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lord-explosion-baku · 4 years ago

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Trident Tale

Merman!Shinsou x reader, Kirishima x Reader

Warnings: adult themes (Minors DNI)

A/N: read the prologue on AO3

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

(Original image by @maewoahoah)

Synopsis: Moving to an island where everyone is big on the surf scene and other oceanic happenings might not have been the brightest idea for someone so afraid of anything that has to do with water, but you make do by spending your days looking after the Bed & Breakfast, trying not to burn the house down when you fry a few eggs, and obsessively scrolling through Eijirou Kirishima’s social media page. He’ll never notice you, and you think you’re fine with that, until a mysterious force washes into Ms. Shuzenji’s pool after a particularly nasty storm.

Hitoshi Shinsou is a pain in the ass from the get-go, but you put up with him, fins and all, when he promises he can help unite you with your soulmate. The catch? The fish is hellbent on taking back what was stolen from him, and he won’t lift a gracious finger until he gets what he came for.

You’re helpless to lend him a hand, so long as you stay dry. Unless, of course, he has other plans.

You know how the saying goes: you rub his fins, he’ll rub yours.

Storms have never really been your cup of tea. Though you keep yourself locked inside a good percent of the time, there’s nothing quite as suffocating as the compress of clouds overhead. It’s not like you always have to see them to be uncomfortable, but you definitely feel them pressing down, closing in, and caging you, even when you’ve got yourself tucked under a blanket on Ms. Shuzenji’s couch.

It’s been a little over a year since you first moved to the island. All you needed was a new beginning, and you got that, but you got that, and the tropical weather that you’re still getting used to. It’s currently typhoon season, and holy seaweed-on-your-doorstep, is it storming.

There’s little you can do to distract yourself while staying and working at Shuzenji’s bed and breakfast. There are currently no guests, aside from you, so all the rooms are made, and the old lady is on another one of her long vacations, so you’re basically being paid to lounge. You’re grateful for that, at least. But the only thing that’s keeping you physically separated from the terrifying weather is a thick glass pane that water sloshes on every time a wave laps over the backyard walls.

The things that separate you mentally are the old-timey recordings of Shuzenji singing alongside an ensemble cast, and the little device in your hand. If you didn’t have your boss’s haunting melodies echoing throughout the house, and some big, beefy, tatted eye-candy to gawk at during the storm, you’d surely go insane.

Eijirou Kirishima, one of the island’s best surfers, is out on his board, live-streaming his current fight against the waves. His whoops and hollers can be heard over the crashing tides, getting even you excited for what’s about to come. That’s the thing about Kirishima; he’s wild, you’re not, and it’s hot as hell. Oftentimes, you catch yourself daydreaming about joining him out in the surf—he guides you through the waves, maybe yoou impress him a bit with your sudden affinity for wave-riding, and the two of you wash up on shore where you’ll both share your first kiss. It would be feasible if you could swim. It would be feasible if you bothered to learn how to swim, but for now, you’re content with your imagination. At least he can make you hate the terrible weather a little less.

The conspiratorial smirk he shows the camera is borderline swoon-worthy when the swell begins to pull him further out. It’s impossible not to bite your lip every time you catch a glimpse of his arms forcing themselves through the sea. He makes this look easy—like the storm is child’s play, and as the winds blow Shuzenji’s trash bin into the sliding glass door, you welcome the delicious distraction.

As Kirishima stands up on his signature trident board and rides one of the biggest waves he’s seen all day, you’re once again struck with how much of a coward you are. He can fight the elements, while you can hardly bring yourself the courage to talk to him. Mind you, he’s constantly surrounded by a close group of friends—a close group of friends you find intimidating—and when he’s not with them, he’s out in the water. Where there’s water involved, you’re spoken for. Unless, of course, you’d like for the first time you guys actually speak, to be when he’s giving you CPR.

Not the most ideal “meet cute”, but if it works, it works.

A loud crash snaps you out of your admittedly salty daydream. Mango, Shuzenji’s orange tabby, yowls at the blanket of water cascading down the windows, and your stomach sinks. There’s only so many minutes you can pretend that the storm Kirishima is facing isn’t the one that’s destroying Shuzenji’s yard.

With a sigh, you roll off the velvet couch, and grimace when crumbs that were nesting in your shirt fall to the carpet: a mess to clean up later. Without any guests to mind, you don’t have to worry too much over keeping the place spick-and-span, so long as things are nice and tighty by the time the old lady gets back, which will be awhile.

You have an easy enough job—at least, when there aren’t bunches of thick seaweeds crashing over the yard’s wall, flooding the pool.

“Shit.”

Water sprays in every direction. The already trash-infested pool overflows as more kelp rolls in with the maniacal waves, and angry, white foam bangs on the back door. It's a disaster outside, and you’re not sure what to do about it.

Fingers wrapped around the back door handle, you struggle to think of a way to prevent a bigger mess, but even if you could manage to clean anything, nothing is stopping the tempest from wreaking anymore havoc. Best case scenario, you stop a plastic soda-chain from washing out to see and becoming a deadly necklace for an unlucky seagull. Worst case scenario, you slip, crack your head open on the pavement, and drown before you can ever utter the words “mahalo” to Kirishima.

Needless to say, you’ll take your life over a gull’s any day.

Another sigh.

A greater wave collides against the wall, bringing more of the Great Unknown into the pool. This is going to be a fun job to clean. Good thing you’ve got Shuzenji’s service boy, Denki Kaminari, on speed dial. You think if you sound particularly distressed in the morning, he’ll show up to help you out with just about anything in the matter of minutes. God bless desperate fuckboys.

So, for now, you cuddle back up on the couch, watch Kirishima shake saltwater out of his thick, red hair, and pretend that his storm is not the same thing as your storm.

It’s early morning when you finally rise out of bed. You hadn’t gotten a whole lot of rest—something to do with the wailing winds shaking your bedroom window nonstop, but after you finally drifted into dreams about snakes and dragons, you woke to clear skies, and light seagull calls.

From the second story, you can see early birds have already gotten the jump on cleaning up the beach. The sun is shining, the ocean blue and vast. The only trace there was ever a storm is already being taken care of. There are lifeguards riding around on ATVs and younger civilians with trash bags and grapplers picking up seaweed and absconded debris. The respect everyone has for the island is something to be admired, and you half-consider going out there yourself, after you’ve dealt with your yard, which is sure to be a wreck.

There’s no interest in picking out a cute outfit for the morning you’re going to have, even if Denki might see you, so you throw on a already-worn-this-week crop top, some pink shirts, and you’re good to go.

The first thing you do after Mango’s fed is check your socials. Kirishima posted a picture of his breakfast: a hefty plate with three eggs, sausage links, bacon, cut avocado, and what seems to be low-carb toast. The post reads, gotta eat ur gainz 2 gain ur gainz, and it’s so ridiculous that you’re infatuated with this reckless himbo. You wonder if you’d ever be able to hold an intellectual conversation with him, if you could ever manage to speak to him in the first place, but conversation wouldn’t matter if his mouth was between your thighs.

Following his example, you crack two eggs over a frying pan, sigh at the mostly empty fridge, then agonize over the state of Shuzenji’s yard. It’s worse than you thought it’d be. The pool is a sickly green color, and from where you’re standing inside, its murky depths seem to be almost opaque from the seaweed and garbage stewing together. Kelp litters the beige pavement, and there’s trash hiding in the shrubs. There’s a chocolate donut floaty bobbing around in there, too, and Shuzenji doesn’t own any floaties.

What a drag.

Before you get too far in your head about everything you’ll need to do to clean up, you quickly dial Denki’s number. He picks up after a ring and a half.

“I know what you’re about to ask,” says the boy on the line, and from his cocky tone, you can assume it’s not going to be about the cleanup. “I am absolutely free tonight. If you wanted to grab drinks at the Salty Barrel, maybe go on a romantic rendezvous out on the beach, watch the sunset on or in a couple blankets, I wouldn’t complain.”

“I’m not calling to ask you on a date, Kaminari,” you say as you step outside. The pavement is cold underneath your bare feet, and you have to tip-toe around to be sure not to let any kelp touch your skin. Yuck.

“But you’re not, not calling about a date, either,” he counters. By the volume of his voice, you can tell that he’s in his van, talking to you over the speaker. Good. So he’s already out and about.

“I need you to tell me how to drain Shuzenji’s pool.” Call you cold, but you’re used to Denki’s flirty nature by now, and you’ve learned that the best way to deal with it, is to not acknowledge it. Of course, you can’t be too callous when it comes to him, especially when you actually need his help. You eye the dangerously complex-looking valves off to the side of the house, and grimace. “There’s too many twisty thingies! I’m not sure what to do!”

“Now, hold your horses, little lady! Don’t go twisting any thingies just yet. Draining a pool is a process.” There’s a long pause, the loud growl of an engine, then silence. He’d pulled over to talk to you. “How’s your TDL? And what kinda PVC pipes you got?”

“The huh and what?” You don’t need to pretend to be in distress—you have no idea what he’s talking about.

“Listen, don’t touch anything. You’re calling because the pool’s a mess right now, right? You don’t need to drain it; at least, not yet. I can swing by in an hour or so to clean it, but I’ve gotta make some stops first. You’re not the only single woman who wants to watch me do my thang, especially not after yesterday.”

“It’s so bad, Kaminari.” The water in the pool sloshes around, like there’s actually something in it causing the water to ungulate and burble. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“Don’t worry your pretty, little head over it. You've got me, okay? It’s my job to protect and serve.”

“You’re not a cop.”

“Nope, I’m better than a cop. I’m a pool guy.”

He goes on to ask you to check out what kind of drain the pool has, if you can find the drain, then loses you when he starts talking numbers and gallons. While still on the phone, you send a few texts to Shuzenji, explaining the predicament, then Denki mentions rates. You’re getting the cutie pie discount, doubled because he counts Shuzenji as a “cutie pie” too—something you mention to her because she’ll get a kick out of it—then he drops all business to ask about food.

“I’m cooking my breakfast,” you say with a wary glance back at the house.

“But is your breakfast fries and a shake from Tiki Burger?”

You bite your lip as your stomach growls its empty sorrow. “No.”

“Would you like it to be?” His knowing grin is heard through the line.

“…I’m not gonna go out with you.”

He chuckles and you’re grateful that he can’t see your answering smile. “We’ll see how you feel after you see me work my magic. And hey, if you’d like me to wear a Speedo while I work—“

“You’ll be here in an hour?” You cut him off, because Denki in a Speedo is the last thing you need on your mind. The thought of Kirishima in a Speedo, however, gets you a little hot, which is saying a lot, since you’re a part of the Speedos and Dolphin-shorts Are Abominations To Swimwear belief system.

“Maybe sooner. I think my next client just needs me to check out their chemical levels. Inside pool and all. Everyone else knew to put a tarp out.”

The tarp you had blew away, but you don’t bother explaining that to Denki. Let him believe you’re the dim-witted “little lady” he wants you to be. If it means Shuzenji gets a discount, not that she can’t afford any bill Denki’s company throws at her, then let him believe you can’t open a pickle jar without a man’s help for all you care.

“See you then,” you say, and end the call. There will be time to work on your charm once Denki gets here. Until then, you figure you could do some investigating so you’re not completely helpless.

Leaving your phone on the pavement so you don’t accidentally drop it in the water, you make your way around the pool to where you think you remember the drain being. You can’t say you’ll know what kind of drain it is, but if you remember correctly, it’s circular, and like, kinda meshy? That description simply won’t do.

Dropping down to your knees, you peer down into the pool, squinting, as if that can help you see through all the muck. There’s definitely a lot of kelp and algae, sand drifting through the water, someone’s wayward brazier, and oh. A school of fish—little babies circling about. It’s wild, but you suppose it could be possible if all the chlorine washed out and there was enough salt water to sustain marine life.

The fish move together, bopping into each other, mouths gaping open to eat whatever they find in their temporary home. You don’t know enough about marine life to know what kind of fish they are. Silvery little things. Maybe Denki has something that can help transport them from the pool to the ocean. It’s not far—Shuzenji’s house is on the beach. It would be a shame if all the little fish had to die. You don’t particularly care about touching or feeding fish, but a life is a life, and if they can be saved, you’d at least like to try.

But all your thoughts of saving fish life stop when you catch something moving in the water. It’s not the fish—they’re not that big, but it’s definitely fishlike. Fish plus. It moves like a shadow, serpentine and fluid. You catch a glimpse of scales, so it’s definitely not a dolphin—even then, it’s bigger than a dolphin, and more graceful than a shark. You begin thinking of leviathan, and other mythical creatures, as ridiculous as that is, when you see a long flowing fluke.

Okay. This thing is not just big. It’s gargantuan, and to see this much of the creature without seeing its head makes your skin crawl. You imagine falling in and being swallowed whole, suffocating in the dark, drowning in a monster’s belly.

The thought spooks you static, just in time to meet a pair of eyes in the water. This is your overactive imagination—you’re scaring yourself insane, but you don’t look away, and those eyes, almost human and curious, don’t disappear.

You’ve consumed enough media to know how these impossible interactions go. The creature is inquisitive, but keeps its distance. It often has to be coaxed out of hiding, and even then, the thing is skittish and untrusting. You’re certainly not one to go “pspsps, hey little guy, I’m not gonna hurt you,” but even if you were, you don’t get the chance, because this thing you’re looking at isn’t the least bit skittish, and in one second, you’re making eyes at at it, and in the next, the thing is exploding out of the water.

A large, broad chest towers over you. The thing pushes itself up with arms, human arms, but it’s anything but human. Sure, it has hair, although an odd purple color, framing its angular face and jaw, which are both human enough. Also framing its face are a pair of long, pointed fins sticking out from where human ears should be. Water dribbles down its chest, down to its navel—its navel. Your brain screams mammal, but underneath its navel are scales, rippling down to where its legs should be. Not human. Not fish.

Fish plus.

Man.

Fish plus man.

Fish-man.

Its eyes are almost the same color as its hair, only a shade lighter, and much sharper, narrowed in on you. It’s glaring. You realize this at the same time you realize that you're staring at it with your mouth agape. This would be so rude in any other setting. It’s also rude to pop out of a pool that isn’t yours without any other warning, but you’re not about to chastise the thing. You’re far too scared.

Then the thing reaches out to you, sprinkling water on your thighs and your shirt. Its hands look like a man’s hand, but its long fingers are connected by thin, indigo webbing that matches its tail. Its tail. You lose focus trying to find the word for this creature that’s barely on the tip of your tongue, when you realize the palm of its hand, its fishy, webby hand, is hovering over your cheek, the other carefully placed next to your knee to keep it upright.

You open your mouth to speak, but only a hiss comes out. The creature, wary, brings its hand back, but only slightly. Not enough to put you at ease, but enough to allow you to gain your composure, and scream.

“H-help!!!” You screech. “Help! Somebody! Help me!”

It claps its hand over your mouth, knocking you back. Water drips down on your shirt as it leans in, mouth curling up with distaste. Then, it does something impossible.

It speaks.

“So loud,” it growls in a low, masculine timbre.

It speaks, you think, it speaks and it has no manners!

You try to yell back, probably something with little thought, but you have a mouth full of fish-man hand, and the more you warble in its palm, the more apathetic it appears.

“Be quiet and still,” it commands, as if obeying it is supposed to be the most natural thing—something it expects from you. It catches you so off-guard that you actually listen, only trembling a little bit as those indigo eyes scan over your form. It’s uncomfortable having an unknown but cognizant creature observe you so closely. You shiver when its gaze roams over your belly, down your legs. You want to curl your legs up, move away, but you’re afraid if you even twitch more than it’s comfortable with, it’ll grab you and drag you into the pool. Your nightmare.

Instead, it does something slightly less worse. It moves its hand from your mouth to your cheek. The palm of its hand warms your skin in an unnatural way, like you’ve been laying in the sun for half an hour and it’s only your cheek that heats up. The creature's eyes widen as light begins to emanate, either from you, or from it, you’re not sure, but definitely from where it touches you. Tingles run from your neck down to your spine, and you wish you’d put a bra on before going outside, because this thing’s touch is making your body react in a way that it shouldn’t.

“So easy,” it purrs appraisingly, somewhat less insolent, but you’re still taken aback, ears hot with embarrassment.

Un-fucking-likely.

“Easy?!” You squawk out. “What do you mean by easy?”

It doesn’t answer you, and instead, moves its fingers from your cheek, down your jaw, to your chin. It begins leaning closer, heavy lids closing. You notice its lips for the first time: a defined line and a pretty bow. If you were in a less dire situation, you’d be able to admit that they’re very nice lips, but they’re getting closer to you, closer still, and you realize with a jolt what it’s trying to do.

Your foot meets its chest in a heartbeat.

“Nope!” You belt out, extending your leg so there’s more distance between you and the impolite beast. “Not today, fish-breath!”

Unperturbed, it lifts a lazy brow. Then, to your absolute horror, it presses both of its hands into your bare leg, and again you’re lit up, warm, and tingly, only far worse than before. Stomach tightening, you make a choked noise, trying to hold in the sigh that claws at your throat.

“Fish-breath.” It repeats your insult like it’s a balled-up piece of paper to be thrown in the trash. “I’ve been told that my aroma is quite appealing.”

“By whom? Other fish-breaths?!” You wriggle your leg out of his embrace, or whatever you could call that invasion, only to have it slip down so your foot rests in the fish-man’s hands, bright as the stars in the sky. “Eww ew! Don’t touch me! Get away!”

The creature scoffs, but let’s you go, and you both watch as the light disappears from the arch of your foot where he’d been touching. Fish-man slinks back into the murky water, hiding under a blanket of algae.

You have enough time to gather your composure, wipe the water droplets off your face, and rub your eyes. For a moment, you try to convince yourself that this has all been a sleep-deprived hallucination, but you’ve never really been one to delude yourself, unless your Kirishima fantasies were involved, and you know that you’ll have to try another tactic to accept the reality of your situation. Perhaps you can try to be civil with this creature, ask it if it’s…hurt, or if it needs a late night escort to get it back to the sea. But then, the thing resurfaces on the opposite end of the pool. It faces you, and leans back against the wall, arms spread out against the pavement, basking.

“You know,” he says, “your decorum is severely lacking. Don’t humans have classes that teach them proper etiquette—how to be more polite towards their guests and such?”

What’s lacking is your patience for marine life.

Standing up, you take in the thing, which you’re now pretty sure is in fact a man of sorts, in its entirety. His tail is long, longer than human legs, extending past the halfway mark of the pool, if your measurement counts his fluke. There’s a golden cuff on his right arm that spirals around, accentuating his large biceps. You stubbornly admit that it’s attractive—he’s attractive, at least, he would be for people who were into fish and not surfers. You brush whatever you’re feeling in the pit of your stomach off by telling yourself that you’re simply awestruck, and move on.

“Where I’m from-“ you begin, straightening your sodden crop top- “we offer our guests various beverages and snacks, depending on the time of day.”

Annoyingly, he looks interested.

“Since it’s the morning, I’d offer a guest tea, or coffee, and if I’m looking to impress, I’d maybe cook them a hot meal.”

The creature offers you a sardonic smile. “I happen to be famished.”

“However, with home-invaders, we’re more likely to pull a gun on them before heating up the earl grey.”

He loses the smile, and you’re glad that he might have an inkling of what a gun is. You’ve never owned one, and they don’t allow firearms on the island, but the threat stands. But if he was intimidated, even for a moment, he doesn’t show it anymore, and proves just that by turning his back on you, and resting his head in his arms. He has a dorsal fin with what looks to be a deep, x-shaped scar near his tailbone. You try not to wonder what that could’ve been from.

“Then how do you propose I go from a home-invader, to a house guest?” Asks the creature with little interest.

Cautiously walking around the pool with your arms crossed, you begin to list things off for the far-too-comfortable fish-man.

“You can start by telling me who you are, what you are, why you’re here, what you want, and why you think you can lay your webbed hands on me.”

“Oh, is that all?” He hums noncommittally. Content. Aggravating. “Why don’t you start then? Who are you, and why are you here?”

The back of your neck grows hot and uncomfortable. “How entitled do you have to be to—!” You start, but you’re swiftly cut off by the shrieking of the fire alarm. Smoke plumes from outside the house’s windows, and you curse under your breath before darting towards the door. You’d completely forgotten about your eggs.

In your haste to move the pan off the stove, you burn your fingers and drop the pan to the kitchen floor, two blackened egg crisps flaking off and diving in different directions. Mango yowls at the commotion and investigates one of the fallen egg crisps. Before you can tell him to buzz off, he loses interest in your mess, not bothering to give it a taste. You don’t blame him, but the eggs didn’t appear to be cat-bad. Ah, you can’t kid yourself. They are cat-bad. They’re completely inedible. Now you’re going to have to head to the market, while worrying about a man trapped in Shuzenji’s pool.

Your stomach roars at you.

After cleaning the mess as best as you could while desperately and ruefully wanting to return to your guest—no, not guest—invader, you get the alarm, half-heartedly fan the smoke out of the house, and return. Angry. This guy better start talking soon, or things are going to get ugly.

To your utter displeasure, he looks all the more amused at your newer, messier state.

“Was that supposed to be the hot meal,” he asks, cocky. “Because if so, I’ll pass.”

Instead of biting his head off like you’d like to, you present him with the still-dirty frying pan, pointing it at his head like you intend to use it.

“Start talking, fish-for-brains.”

The beast snickers, raising his hands in the air in mock-surrender. “Easy there, tiger shark. You know how to use that thing?”

You refuse to humor him. Instead, you keep your scowl tight, your arms steady. If he’s not threatened, he’ll lose interest in this game, then he’ll have to talk.

Lo and behold, you’re right. The fish-man rolls his eyes, and looks at you, again, with apathy.

“My name is Hitoshi Shinsou,” he says, lackadaisical, like he’s already bored of himself. “I’m one of Ryūjin. What humans have learned to call merpeople are actually descendants of the sea gods who lived centuries ago. I’m here, simply because the storm washed me here. What I want is to retrieve what’s mine. I thought I could lay my webbed hands on you—well-“ the corner of his mouth tilts up-“darlin’, it was because your body reacted to me.”

Mouth forming the beginning of a question that never comes, you stare in disbelief at this myth. Then the last thing he said dawns at you.

“I did not react to you!” You rebuke, steady hands now shaking.

“Oh no?” He says, but it’s not a question. It’s a challenge.

Hitoshi grabs the flat end of the frying pan and yanks it, and you, closer to him, closer to the water. You cringe and whine when a wet, webby hand closes around your wrist. Inadvertently, you drop the pan, but he pays it no mind as it sinks past his tail. Your skin begins to glow underneath his palms, and the tingles come back, shooting up your arm, causing tiny goosebumps to appear.

“Would you look at that,” Hitoshi croons, slow and almost sensuously. His indigo eyes narrow on your index finger where you’d burned yourself. To add to this nightmare, he closes his lips around it, and begins to suck. Your stomach flips, and you’re not sure if it’s because you’re disgusted, or scared, or…enjoying the feeling of his warm mouth, his tongue, touching your skin.

“Stop.” It’s a whisper. It means nothing. You think you want it to mean something, but your thoughts are buzzing into a blur. Knees growing weak, you descend, leaning closer to him, not caring about the water or the seaweed or the fish, and instead, entirely focused on his mouth. It’s glowing, his mouth. Faintly. Like a single candle lit in an otherwise empty room.

When he eases off of you, he runs his thumb over your now-healed finger, and let’s your arm fall limply at your side.

“All better,” he whispers back at you.

There are prickles all over your skin once you regain an ounce of dignity.

“What the hell was that?” You ask, breathless for no other reason than shock.

“The glowing?” He asks. “The healing?”

“Both.”

“Your reaction to me.” He’s cocky again. This is something sick. Mythical creature or not, this has got to be a game he plays, washing into people’s pools, causing problems, sucking on lonely girls’ fingers. He probably gets his kicks this way, and uses whatever other kind of magic he has to erase whoever he’s tormenting’s memories, if he doesn’t end up eating them when he’s done. Bogus.

You won’t let him get to you.

“Alright, Hitoshi Shinsou, how would you like me to get you back into the ocean? You healed my finger-“ although it’s essentially his fault you were burned to begin with, if you take into account the sequence of events-“so helping you out is the least that I can do.”

“I could use your help,” he muses lightly, turning his body back around to his chest and abdomen are turned towards the sun. You tell yourself not to stare like you know he probably wants you to. Though his eyes are closed, he peeps at you, sneaking a glance. “I don’t want to go back into the ocean, though. Not until I get what’s mine.”

With the might of a girl who just wants to go back inside and scroll through her phone, you swallow your bite, and ask, “what would that be?”

“Oh, this and that-“ he waves his hand around dismissively-“other things.”

With the might of a girl who just wants to go back inside and find another frying pan, you say, “alright, listen. Someone is on their way to the house to clean the pool. I don’t know what one of Ryūjin means, but I’m guessing people like you don’t always want to be discovered by people like us. So you either tell me what it is you need, or see how my pool guy reacts to a mermaid lounging around in my backyard! I wouldn’t put it against him to call the local news station. Get this place flooding with cameras. Does that sound like a pretty picture to you?”

Absolutely none of your threats penetrate Hitoshi’s cool nature. In fact, he laughs.

“When he gets here,” the merman drawls, knowing he’s got you hanging on every word, “invite him to swim.”

#bnha mermay #mermaid au #siren!shinsou #mermaid!hitoshi shinsou #hitoshi shinsou x reader #shinsou x reader #bnha x reader #bnha x you #bnha imagines #bnha reader insert #reader insert #trident tale

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cozymoko · 3 years ago

Note

How would yandere Kakashi, yandere Hashirama and yandere Tobirama deal with reader and her rival constantly arguing but her rival actually has feelings for her? Sort of like that from enemies to lovers thing?

Kakashi Hatake • はたけカカシ

📚 Now this is something new, something new entirely. Kakashi isn't the most confrontational, primarily over matters like this. Likely, he'll just snoop around, probing your "nemesis" from afar. It'd be quite rude of him to not evaluate who his beloved has been rambling about for the past few weeks. Considering it took away much-needed time that you could've been doting on him in.

📚 Not impressed, a bit skeptical about them too. He almost knew something was off when he first laid his eyes on them. Making his eyes narrow quite a bit at his realization.

📚 Their little crush on you didn't go unnoticed, not by Kakashi at least. He could tell from the small stutters and the small boosts of energy they receive when you're mentioned. Kakashi cares little–well, nothing about their existence so why not play with their emotions? By purposely hugging and staying close to you, at all times might I add. It may be to the point that you begin to question his actions.

📚 This may or may not work, it's a hit or miss. But once he sees how persistent they are, sharing your attention and your oh-so-cute angry faces was no longer on his agenda. All good things must come to an end, this rivalry is a prime example. Soon Kakashi will close in on them, asking them to pick life or death right on the spot. There's only one winner to this pointless "love triangle" I'm sure you know the name dear.

Hashirama Senju • 千手柱間

🌳 Hashirama is nothing shy of a charming man but even his boundaries can get crossed. He has no problem listening to your tirades about your days as it's essentially become a part of your routine. Although the word, "rival" did pique his interest in the worst way feasible. Various unpleasant scenarios played through his head as he thought of what they could have done to you or how long this little rivalry had gone unseen by him. He must greet this man of the hour.

🌳 Reasonably irked about all the bickering between you and your foe, it's certainly questionable. Their boasting about how they're "...so much better than you!" got old rather hastily. Watching them belittle you got old even quicker, he can only tolerate it so much. He's so good at restraining himself, too bad we all snap eventually.

🌳 The nicest of them all, in his approach and reaction. If anything it's likely that he wouldn't address them at all and let them crush on you. He's far more refined to not act on his emotions, even if they compel him to. As Hokage it's a must to keep his composure, correct? Well, that's only if they don't make any insignificant advances towards you.

🌳 Hypothetically speaking, let's say they did! That's such a tragic ending, it's almost as if they disappeared right from under our noses. You don't know? They went missing all of a sudden! Though I shouldn't be surprised that you were unaware, after all, Mr. Hokage swept it all under the rug.

Tobirama Senju • 千手扉間

🌊 The whole ordeal is simply exhausting to him, if he wasn't devoted to you he'd certainly pass upon hearing any story. When you did tell him Tobirama was a little disinterested. You were past their status and to dumb yourself down to someone who doesn't correlate is disheartening. Why wouldn't he desire to meet this man who's successfully attained the title "competitor"?

🌊 When you introduced them to Tobirama he frightened them and I doubt it was unintentional. Perhaps it was the death glare? Moving on, the two of you were training and your partner happened to tag along. Just inspecting from the sidelines made everything click, they liked you, this was more like playful banter than fighting. It took everything in him not to tear that man apart where he stands.

🌊 As the assertive man, he is he'll stride up and demand that they tell him how they feel about you. Even if it's more than apparent. Once they've corroborated Tobirama will sternly spout, "Forget this little crush of yours, forget it all. If you do only good things will come of it...However, I can't say the same if you don't."

🌊 If they choose to test their luck, Death is the only solution. He can't have someone swoop in and steal his beloved even if they were inferior to him. The only civil idea is to get rid of them, leaving no trace of their existence, their voice suddenly becoming unheard.

#yandere naruto #yandere kakashi #yandere hashirama #yandere tobirama #yandere hashirama x reader #yandere kakashi x reader #yandere tobirama x reader #kakashi headcanons #kakashi x reader #hashirama x reader #tobirama x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x reader

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theravennest · 3 years ago

Text

Hot Loki Take: Sylvie was Right

*Spoilers for all of Loki the series up to and including ep 6.

Sylvie was right to kill He Who Remains and free the timeline.

I’m deadass.

He Who Remains forced reality into an endless cycle between a time of Order (he rules as dictator) & a time of simulated and controlled "Chaos" (his Conqueror variants wage war). I say this “chaos” is simulated because when you think about it, it’s chaos that He Who Remains arranges himself by manipulating Lokis.

He Who Remains is so fucking sus but for some reason people are just tripping over their own feet to believe everything he says and vilify Sylvie for killing him.

He literally tells them (and us) that his methods are deceptive and we know for a fact that he’s willing to murder trillions upon trillions of people, planets, and realities to get the outcome he wants. Yet some are still believing everything he says cuz he said maybe 4 things that were truthful, I guess, and cuz he’s cute. Some of us are so blinded by the fear/anticipation of Kang the Conqueror’s arrival, we are letting him bamboozle us.

He Who Remains perfectly and personally tailored the Ordered period of the timeline to produce this exact Sylvie and this exact Loki, had them meet/influence each other, and then had them travel to the end of time...to him.

Now Lokis by nature are agents of chaos and could suddenly swerve left, so to speak, for no reason. So let’s assume I believe that He Who Remains didn’t 100% know what they would choose once they crossed the Threshold (if the Threshold he described is even real, tbh). He also so carefully molded both of their entire lives for that moment in the Citadel. He may not have known 100% but he knew at least 90% of how they would react to everything he said and did when they were both pushed to this place/mindset.

Notice how he teed them up for the fight that ended in his death:

Manufacturing a scenario where they would meet via the TVA’s variant pursuit.

Manufacturing a scenario where they would travel to the Void and meet Alioth.

Kid Loki being in just the right place to give his sword to Loki.

Miss Minutes appearing to menacingly offer an obvious devil’s bargain.

Him slyly telling Sylvie that she can’t trust Loki, putting it into her head just before he gives them his ultimatum.

All of these thing practically gift wrapped that ending to the Loki on Sylvie fight.

Let’s elaborate.

What was even the point of Miss Minutes offering to re-insert them into the same Sacred Timeline with both getting their hearts’ desires there?

Not more than ten minutes later He Who Remains told Loki and Sylvie to their faces that he manipulated all this for the sole purpose of making them choose between taking over as rulers of the TVA or killing him and ushering in a Multiversal War. Neither of those choices would result in re-inserting Loki and Sylvie back into the timeline.

So what is the truth? Why waste precious moments with a creepy Miss Minutes menacing them in that vestibule scene?

Notice how Miss Minutes’ words pushed Loki further onto his path of no longer wanting power or a throne but desiring to change his attitude about himself and the universe. Notice how her words conversely pushed Sylvie into balking at the idea of accepting another “fictional” life after a lifetime of being manipulated and made her double down on her mission to free the timeline and get revenge.

Sylvie has the ability to see memories but interesting how he kept her distracted by condescending to her and provoking her, just stoking the fire to make her react negatively. (Interesting how he was far more focused on Sylvie’s reactions than Loki’s, most likely because he needed her to kill him for his plans to work.)

Now I don’t want to completely shift responsibility for her choices away from Sylvie. In truth, if she had held in her vengeance for let’s say an hour and trusted Loki a bit more, they could’ve sat down to talk about things and maybe found a third solution other than starting a Multiversal War or ruling the TVA that still could’ve even allowed her to get revenge. (More on the ultimatum later.)

But I can’t blame her for losing her cool, either. He Who Remains made damn sure she would burn as hot as possible because he tailor made her life to give her the personality he wanted. And any other version of her out there who might have made a different choice would’ve already been pruned.

He Who Remains tells Loki and Sylvie straight up that he set them on their particular life paths because he needed them to be “changed by the journey” to ensure everyone in that room was in exactly the right mindset to do what was needed to “finish the quest” and presumably “slay the dragon,” aka Him. (Notice the parallels to the speaker narration just before episode 2′s fight at the Ren Fair.)

We don’t know! Sylvie never enchanted him to read his memories because she was so filled with rage and Loki was too busy trying to stop her, he didn’t think to do it either. And we’ve already established that He Who Remains trained them that way. Nothing that happened in that office was without He Who Remains’ influence and meddling.

Another nail in the coffin that convinces me that He Who Remains is a no good dirty liar is Renslayer.

If He Who Remains’ end goal was to either have the Lokis choose to rule the TVA or destroy it and thus end up with no memory of her previous TVA judge role/life, why did he send Miss Minutes to Ravonna with files that caused her to pack her bags and search for what she calls “free will,” AKA the one in charge?

I’d bet dollars to donuts that when the next season rolls around the only people who will know what’s going on and still have their memories will be Loki, Miss Minutes, Sylvie, and Ravonna. (Maybe Kang the Conqueror will know as well but I could see it going the other way too. I’m 50-50.)

He Who Remains was planning something by pushing Ravonna the way he did. Does he want her out of the TVA so she doesn’t lose her memories when everything resets? Does he want her to go find the Conqueror version of himself? I mean, at this point, practically everyone knows who she is to Kang in the comics, so let’s not pretend that’s not an option.

Another thing to think about...it’s super suspicious that he was so eager to make them believe he’s one of the “good versions” of Kang and all these others are much worse while giving absolutely no evidence of that outside of an interactive blob powerpoint, a quirky attitude, and a couple of sad, weary faces????

Who’s to say He Who Remains isn’t playing the long game and always manipulates his variants to eventually give him the chance to seize control of the multiverse?

Who’s to say he’s not one of the Kangs that wanted to conquer too? Funny how the “pure of heart” Kang is the one who still wrested control of all reality, killed off every other timeline with a weapon of mass destruction, installed a fascist time bureaucracy, and set himself up as the dictator. Sounds an awful lot like some conqueror shit to me, just saying.

Even wilder theory: what if this really is the same Kang the Conqueror but at the end of his life? We only have hhis word that he’s a variant. He Who Remains tells Loki that this fight is for the “young and hungry.” Maybe the “young and hungry” he’s referring to is not Loki and Sylvie at all but his literal younger self. Perhaps he set up this entire cycle of chaos and order so that he can perpetually live, conqueror, rule, die, and start all over again? Reincarnation, as he says...

But let’s set that wild theory aside for a moment. Let’s circle back to the Multiversal War debate and say it really is is caused by an infinite amount of his variants.

I think it’s hella sus that He Who Remains was so insistent that Loki and Sylvie only had two choices to resolve this riddle: Multiversal War or running the TVA almost exactly the way he did while maintaining only a single timeline. Those are definitely not the only two options they had. In fact, I could probably name 1-3 other options off the top of my head right now:

Keep He Who Remains alive while learning how he manipulated time and using those skills to slowly unleash the multiverse while killing every version of Kang to prevent him from existing as either conqueror or dictator.

Kill He Who Remains, take over the TVA, and slowly change it to something not horrific or even build a brand new system for governing time.

Kill or keep He Who Remains, still take over the TVA, slow rollout the Multiverse and kill or prevent every Kang along the way.

(I’m not saying these aren’t also morally questionable options, I’m just saying they are different from the two choices He Who Remains presented.)

But let’s say these options I suggested are not feasible. I just randomly came up with them ten minutes ago so it would be fair if they were picked apart logically.

So let’s contemplate this, instead:

Why should we assume/believe that a Multiversal War is actually a bad thing again??? Why are we assuming that He Who Remains’ Sacred Timeline really saved reality from total collapse?

Assuming he told the truth about his motives, maybe he was just...wrong about the end of reality. Maybe he saw what he thought was the conclusion to the Multiversal War coming and erroneously believed it to be the end of everything but actually it was the multiverse sorting itself out and everything would’ve been fine after.

We (and He Who Remains too) will never know because not only did he not show any evidence to back up his claim that reality was on the brink of collapse, but he himself never allowed things to play out naturally. Whenever the end of the war comes to the brink of something, he always panics, weaponizes Alioth, and traps the universe in his cage of Order with the TVA.

Even more controversial take...maybe the collapse of timelines and the end of everything should be allowed to happen. Maybe the natural cycle of reality is to build and build, splinter and splinter timelines, until it collapses and starts all over again from the void.

Nothing is created and nothing is destroyed, all things exist in a cycle so why should the multiverse be any different?

After all in all, in all three possibilities an infinite number of timelines is destined to suffer and die. Whether it be during the Kang-controlled Order period, Kang-controlled fake Chaos period, or the unrestrained natural Chaos that collapses in on itself...an untold amount of people are dying anyway. There’s only one of those scenarios that has actual unrestrained free will where those people get to exist how they want, make choices they want (even bad ones) for as long as they can.

(Personally, I’ll take that over what the Kangs have wrestled the multiverse into.)

I’ll just take this moment to re-iterate: trust nothing He Who Remains says. He’s a known liar and manipulator, and unlike Loki he has done absolutely nothing to actionably show he’s not still lying or to show that he’s trying to change outside of some sad looks. It’s all pantomime, bruh. Like, the pageantry of it all astounds me.

Is he maybe telling some truths? Sure. But that doesn’t mean he’s not using the truth to manipulate everything. It’s an illusion, I’m telling y’all! He was up to no fucking good.

Sylvie was far more right to kill him than to not. Loki, Sylvie, & team (prolly also the latest Avengers lineup too) now just need to find a way to break this Kang cycle.

#loki #loki laufeyson #sylvie laufeydottir #kang the conqueror #he who remains #loki spoilers #mcu #mcu spoilers

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birdwonder · 5 years ago

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Can I get one where Fugo comes out to his fem s/o that he’s mega bisexual but is scared to tell her

Panacotta Fugo | Coming Out

Biting onto his fist was never a habit Fugo had before, not even when he was trying to contain his explosive anger that threatened to boil right out of the pot. His teeth scrapped and dug into his slender yet rough digits, trying to sooth the anxious feeling that pulled and tugged at his gut. It felt almost humiliating to have developed such a nervous tic, like he wasn’t fit to be in a gang because of it, and what was worse was that it was happening because he was too much of a coward to approach you.

It was stupid of him to not want to talk to you, you were his girlfriend and one of the only people who he could actually find solace in. Not only have you always been there to support him and cover him in loving affection, to which he always tells you to cut out despite internally lavishing in it, but you have never so much as insulted him. There had been times you criticised his harsh methods with Narancia, though that was from you trying to better him - not demean him.

The problem was however, he had come to terms with a side of him a while ago that he had never confessed to you. Something that he felt wrong for hiding.

In his heart, he found himself being able to find not only women but men attractive as well. Provided that the man could treat him as well as you did to him.

This didn’t mean he had feelings for a man though! Fugo was solely devoted to you and you only, not a single soul could get in the way of that; he wasn’t looking to experiment with another person either, regardless of their gender. He just wanted you but only if you could accept him for who he was.

When the blond finally forced his frozen legs to move, he made sure that his direction led to you. You were sitting down by a table, a book in your hand that you happily placed down as soon as you spotted your boyfriend, your face lighting up at the sight of him. “Pani! What’s up my strawberry sundae?” You greeted cheerily, your obnoxiously adorable nicknames for him for once not complained about which for a split second concerned you.

“Uh, hey [F/N],” Fugo tried to return the greeting politely but failed to so much as make eye contact with you, fists clenched by his sides with nails digging harshly into his palms. If things got worse, he might go back to biting his fist again. He didn’t want that though, he wanted to be a man and face the problem head on like the sort of boyfriend you deserved. So with a sharp inhale, he began to speak firmly, “listen. We’ve been together for a long time and I really want to tell you that, I love you.”

Your eyes widened slightly. Fugo wasn’t the type to boldly proclaim his love at all, especially unprompted. It had sent you into both a state of panic while simultaneously feeling flattered by his declaration, “honey are you o-”

“No, no. Let me keep going,” he hushed you, waving a hand to signal for you to not say another word. He didn’t want to be rude, at least not to you of all people, but he had to get it all out in one go or else he might not be able to even mouth another word. “I don’t want to sound pathetic here, and if anyone finds out about this then... Let’s not. I just, I need to tell you this at the very least because, well,” a hand was then placed onto your shoulder, Fugo’s averted eyes now staring into your’s with determined seriousness mixed with a deep, almost hidden look of fear.

“I really do want to be with you for a long time, [F/N], you’re just someone I couldn’t handle losing so I’m scared to tell you this. But I also don’t want to be the world’s worst boyfriend and live our lives with a secret.”

Assuming you still couldn’t talk, you reminded quiet while many thoughts swarmed in your head. What was this about? Worry was starting to take over you and you couldn’t do anything to stop it, not until Fugo finished what he wanted to say. You could only pray that he wasn’t telling you that he was in danger or had something that could affect him for the worse; your strawberry didn’t deserve that, no matter what anyone might say about his crabby attitude.

“I like you, you know this. Women if we’re being general and men. Both.”

It was hard to tell what either of you were thinking when that bomb dropped. Fugo was desperately trying to scan over your face for a reaction and you were simply blinking, lips closed together and hands held politely in your lap, like you were waiting for something to happen.

“...Can I talk now?” You queried with a tilt of your head. You were clearly perplexed at that current moment, unsure of what Fugo was trying to get across to you. “I’m not really seeing a problem here, Pani.”

Fugo was taken back. He wasn’t expecting this, nor did it match any of the one hundred scenarios he had created in his head to how you were gong to react, after all he did take the initiative to try and plan ahead before telling you the truth. Even if he thought there was a chance of you accepting him, he had no idea you would be so nonchalant about it.

“But I- I’m telling you that I’m interested in men! Ah, not a specific man of course just in general.” He tried to explain further, convinced that perhaps you were just not understanding what he was trying to tell you.

Laughing lightly, you raised an amused brow at his fretting. “So? You’re bisexual honey, that’s absolutely fine!” You took ahold of the hand that he had previously placed on your shoulder and pressed a kiss on the knuckles, along with the red marks that his teeth had left, something you would ask about later. “I fell in love with you for how cute you are, how smart you are and how whenever I’m around you, I want to give my all in making you happy!”

The male gangsta couldn’t believe his ears. There was no way, no feasible chance that he was so god damn lucky to have a girlfriend like you.

Were you really alright with him? Was this seriously happening? How could he even deserve you?

“I don’t know what to say,” Fugo admitted, jaw slightly slacked. Standing up, you intertwined your fingers with the hand you kissed and stood close to him, giving him a reassuring and patient look.

“How about you start with how your day was, hm? Nothing’s changed, Pani, so let’s just go on as usual.”

Nodding slowly, everything had slowly caught up with Fugo and he smiled, a rare, cherished sight for you. “Yeah, that sounds good. I love you, [F/N].”

“Not as much as I love you, my Strawberry Sundae.~”

#fugo x reader #panacotta fugo #jjba x reader #request

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lady-divine-writes · 5 years ago

Text

Squatters’ Rights - (Rated PG13)

Summary: Chaos ensues at their daughter's Christmas pageant when some unexpected visitors hijack a very important prop. (1878 words)

Notes: Written for the @klaineadvent 2019 prompts emergency, ground, hiccup, interrupt, nest, and overwhelm, and the @gleepotluckbigbang Prompt 'Christmas Trees'.

Read on AO3.

“Ku-rt … oh Ku-rt,” Blaine sings in a nervous falsetto. “I need to talk to you, Kurt.”

“Yes?” Kurt snaps, too overwhelmed this close to curtain to handle anything that might go hand-in-hand with that unsettling voice.

“We might have a problem.”

“What?” Kurt storms a step towards his husband who leaps three steps back in response, concerned suddenly for life and limb. “What problem!? It’s fifteen minutes to show time! Don’t talk to me about problems!”

“O…okay,” Blaine says, splaying his hands in a conciliatory gesture, “then let’s call it a hiccup?”

“No, a hiccup is a safety-gated synonym for problem and I refuse to accept that there are any problems.”

“And yet, we still have one.”

Kurt sighs, throwing a hand to his forehead to shield his already blooming headache from whatever stupidity this is, and ends up smacking himself with his clipboard. “Fine!” he groans, rubbing the sore spot. “What is it!?”

“Look up there.” Blaine reaches out to take his husband’s shoulder and redirect his attention, but after considering the possibility of getting his hand bitten off, he motions with his chin instead.

“Up where?”

“Up … up there. In the Christmas tree. And … uh … tell me I don’t see what I think I see.”

“What? Is Mrs. Popson complaining that the ornaments are unbalanced again? Are we going to have to re-Feng shui the lights to better complement her third graders’ angel piglets?” Kurt allows himself a snicker as he follows Blaine’s instructions and gazes up. Eight dozen ridiculous things have happened so far and their little pageant has yet to even open. That’s probably all this is. Something ridiculous – a minor inconvenience blown way out of proportion.

At least, that’s what it had better be.

But as he peers through the branches of their picturesque twelve-foot Fraser fir, he realizes no. This isn’t a little thing. It’s a rather large thing. So large, he wonders how come he didn’t manage to notice it before now.

“Oh … shit,” he mutters.

“Yeah,” Blaine agrees. “That’s what I said.”

“This!” Kurt hisses, jabbing a finger upward. “This is why I told you I wanted an artificial tree for the Christmas pageant! Where did we get this thing anyway?”

“It was donated, Kurt! By Father Bruno at St. Adalbert’s Parish. As a show of support for out LGBT inclusive program! He went out to the woods and cut it down himself!”

“Right!” Kurt folds his arms over his chest, expression pinched sarcastically. “He probably planned this! Did it on purpose to sabotage our pageant! You can’t trust the Catholics, Blaine! Don’t I always say that!?”

“No!” Blaine pulls a face. “I have never heard you say that!”

“Well, you can’t,” Kurt sniffs. “And whether I said it or not, it’s generally implied.”

“I don’t think he did this on purpose.”

“Really!? Then let me ask you this - during the time it took the good father to cut this tree down and drag it over here, he never once noticed there was not one, not two, but three nests inside!?”

“I guess not! But neither did y---we,” Blaine corrects, his life flashing before his eyes when he almost implicates his husband in being at fault. “We got the tree last minute. I guess they slipped through the cracks.”

“Obviously.” Kurt sighs. He closes his eyes and drops his head, searching for an answer in the dark behind his lids.

Five minutes.

By now, they only have five minutes left until show time. He can hear the children lining up with their teachers backstage while he and his husband argue. But they need to stop arguing and come up with a solution.

And fast.

He takes a deep breath in and exhales out, the inklings of a plan forming in his head.

“It’s okay,” he says, reassuring himself more than anyone. “It’s going to be okay. They haven’t let the parents in yet. They’re still in line outside. We can fix this. We can still fix this.” Kurt’s eyes pop open. “Sam’s here, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah!” Blaine exclaims, the inclusion of their friend in this scenario of some bizarre comfort to him. “He’s doing final checks on the lighting! Up in the catwalk!”

“Great,” Kurt says, over-enunciating consonants through locked teeth. “Can you go get him please?”

“Yes! Yes, I can! Sam! Sam!” Blaine bellows before he runs off behind the curtain. Kurt flinches, the headache simmering behind his eyes threatening to become a full-blown migraine. He considers informing his husband that he could have yelled just as easily, but quicker than quick, Blaine returns with Sam in tow, pointing animatedly at the tree, running his mouth a mile a minute. Sam listens, nodding and smiling, telling Blaine it’ll be okay every time Blaine stops to take a breath – which isn’t often. But a foot away from the tree Sam gets a better glimpse. He slows down. His smile falls. And to Kurt’s dismay, he shakes his head.

But Kurt adamantly objects to hearing anything that so much as stinks of bad news, so before Sam can say a word, he jumps the gun: “So, you can move them right? Just … shimmy up there and get them down?”

“Uh … no. I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” Kurt counters, teeth clenched so hard they’re about to pop from his skull. “Skitter your way up there and pluck them out. It can’t be too difficult.”

“I’m sorry, Kurt …”

“We’re not going to hurt them,” Kurt interjects as if that might be the big hold up. “We’re going to relocate them.”

“Kurt …”

“There’s a cat carrier in the fifth grade room,” Kurt continues desperately. “We’ll toss them in there for the time being and then …”

“Kurt!” Sam barks, which he never does, so Kurt knows the impending answer truly is no. “We can’t move them.”

“And why can’t we?”

“Because those aren’t just any birds.” The three men look up at the exact moment nine fluffy bird faces peek over the edges of their nests and look down, probably wondering what all the commotion below is about. “Those are loggerhead shrikes.”

Kurt and Blaine both look at their friend with confusion on their faces.

“How do you know that?” Blaine asks.

“I happen to be an Eagle Scout. And an active member of the Audubon Society.”

“I didn’t know that!” Blaine pats his proud friend on the back. “Good for you, man!”

“Thank you,” Sam replies a la his favorite Elvis-impersonation. “Thank you very much.”

Kurt throws his arms up in frustration at the unexpected arrival of the mutual admiration society. “Okay! Great! They’re loggerhead shrikes! So?”

“Loggerhead shrikes are threatened. That means they’re protected. We can’t move them ourselves. We might not be able to move them at all without taking the tree with them.”

Kurt’s eyes bug. “We can’t … we can’t … the tree!? Oh great! This keeps getting better and better!”

“Kurt, relax.” Blaine takes the risk and puts his hands on Kurt’s shoulder. He tries to massage them, but they’re hard as rocks. “It’s okay. We can still sort this out.”

“And how do you suggest we do that!? Huh!? Our Christmas pageant, which your daughter is starring in by the way, and is supposed to start in …” Kurt spins around in search of a clock. When he can’t see the one on the far wall, ironical for the tree, he fishes his cell phone out of his pocket and checks the screen. His eyes bug out farther “… two minutes! has been hijacked by birds!”

“Look. They’ve been chill so far. Maybe we can have the pageant with them there and move them after. Problem solved.”

“You’re right,” Kurt agrees optimistically, seeing how, with no time to spare, this could be a feasible option. “We’ll let them stay! Problem solved! I mean, what’s a few birds? It doesn’t look like they can even fly yet. And they’re cute! They’ll add realism. They won’t be any trouble.”

“Not exactly,” Sam says, and Kurt as never wanted to punch him in the face so hard in his life. “There may be a whole other bigger problem.”

“And that is?”

“Those are the babies. Juveniles, specifically. I don’t see any moms. Or dads for that matter.”

“I know I’m going to regret asking this,” Kurt moans, resigned to whatever fate Sam’s knowledge is about to bestow upon them, “but … that’s a problem why?”

“Because loggerhead shrikes are protective. Being separated from their chicks, the parents will get aggressive. Also, if the babies don’t know where their parents are and they get nervous …” A series of jarring screeches interrupt Sam’s explanation. Kurt glares up at the birds, mouths open wide, cawing loudly into the air. Sam points up. “They’ll do that.”

“Great!” Kurt yelps, at the end of his rope. “So we have potentially agro birds loose in the theater, baby birds that spontaneously scream bloody murder, and a play set to start in half-a-minute, which we may have to postpone indefinitely in case we need to call animal control - do I have that right?”

“Basically, yes.”

“Well, skippidy do! Is there anything else!? Anything at all you’ve forgotten to tell me!? Because what else could possibly go wrong!?”

The doors at the back of the auditorium fly open and Kurt blanches, knowing that right then and there, his question is about to be answered.

“Kurt! Blaine! Come quick! It’s an emergency!”

“What? What, what, what is it now!?”

“Insane birds are dive bombing parents in line outside! Three people have already been pecked! Everyone is scattering! It’s like an Alfred Hitchcock movie!”

With the doors thrown open, Kurt can hear it – the panicked yells of parents outside, banging on the doors, begging to be let in. Above that, the shrieking of the birds searching for their babies echo through the halls, their screams so high-pitched and piercing, they make their way through the thick stone walls and heavy metal doors. Hearing their parents’ cries, the baby birds respond, frantically flapping their wings in an effort to take flight themselves and reach them.

Bitterly Kurt thinks all of his problems might be solved if they give it a go, plummet to the ground, and break their little birdie necks.

How un-festive of him.

Blaine looks sympathetically at his done-in husband. “Do you want me to go outside and handle this one alone?”

“No.” Kurt straightens his back, squares his shoulders, hands his clipboard over to Sam, and makes for the stairs to the stage, head held high like a gladiator going off to fight an unwinnable war. “I’ll go. Sam? Tell the teachers … there’s been a bit of a delay.”

“Right-y o, chief,” Sam says, leaving the stage with a solemn salute.

“And Blaine?”

“Yes?” Blaine says, falling in behind his husband, unwilling to let him walk off into the bird battle alone.

“Do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

“The next time I ask what could possibly go wrong - gag me.”

“Don’t say that …” Blaine smirks, preparing to die on the hill of bringing a smile back to his husband’s face. “Between that and all this bird talk, I can’t wait to get you home.”

#klaine advent 2019 #gpbb drabble december #klaine advent: overwhelm #klaine fic #klaine fanfiction #frankie writes

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gascon-en-exil · 5 years ago

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FE16 Blue Lions Liveblogging

Chapters 17-18. Lots of heavy plot content here.

The further along I get in the war phase the more superfluous the monastery content and calendar system becomes. I haven’t gotten any new paralogues since Annette and Gilbert’s, because I believe you only get ones for characters you’ve recruited and I’ve exhausted all of those. I’ve read that Dimitri may have one toward the end, and Mercedes shares hers with Caspar of all people so that’ll have to wait for a playthrough when I do inter-house recruiting, but apart from that everyone in my army has had one. There’s little to do at the monastery but grind professor rank and Renown, mostly for supports and a last few skill ranks. What little there is in the way of quests is just Gilbert asking for resource contributions. It’s like the endgame WoW of years past, only without even the option to do group content (not that I would, but regardless).

The enemy AI for the school phase’s Battle of the Eagle and Lion allowed it to feel like a genuine struggle between three opposing armies, but round 2 in the war phase sacrificed narrative for the sake of difficulty. The Alliance forces charged my position after a few turns and didn’t go for the Empire at all, leaving me to play more defensively to neutralize their flying archer lord (...I really hope Claude spontaneously getting a wyvern gets some kind of explanation in the Deer route, something more than “because Almyran, just go with it”). Dedue once against punched Edelgard into submission because he’s distinctly good at that - really goes along with the hunting her down and killing her bit in another route, which TVTropes is now claiming can still happen if you choose to spare her. Huh.

Student kills: Ferdinand and Bernadetta from the Eagles, Lorenz, Raphael, Ignatz, Leonie, and Lysithea from the Deer, with the others either retreating or still unseen in the war phase. Petra was the only one who really surprised me by retreating instead of dying.

Starting in Chapter 18 Dimitri can be interacted with again like a normal unit. While I have issues with some of the presentation behind his change of heart (see below), it’s good to have him working on supports and building his skill ranks during training sessions again. Not that he really needs the latter; his stats are massive and both his sword and lance ranks are nearly maxed out.

The story map for Chapter 18 introduces magic/technology hybrids that act like either monsters or siege towers, on top of having at least one enemy caster with a traditional siege spell. Adding a lever far into the map to shut down the lightning towers was a nice touch.

Most of the master classes have been a pain to grind toward, as only a few units have what it takes to be true hybrids. Sylvain is evidently one of them, but sending Mercedes through cavalier to work on her riding for holy knight made her borderline useless. At least some of the advanced classes are good enough to where they could feasibly work for endgame (but I do still want a holy knight, so Mercedes will continue poking things for a while).

Story/Character observations

I’ve been getting all kinds of A supports. Dimitri/Dedue and Felix/Sylvain are as gay as advertised. Catherine/Ashe is one of those rare plot-heavy support lines, where we find out more about Lonato and Ashe’s own drive for revenge. Byleth/Gilbert is not even slightly romantic even late into their A support, which makes me wonder why he’s an S rank option for either gender when it’s more about pushing him to go home to his wife. Ditto Gilbert’s supports with Annette. Ashe/Annette gets kind of cute in the end, but Felix/Annette involves entirely too many of her comically bad songs to be endearing. Manuela cuts out the cougar routine when she spies on Sylvain being an asshole. Catherine thought young Dimitri was a maiden based on his haircut (as seen in the CG of him dancing with Edelgard - this guy is forever doomed to multiple varieties of bad hair) and repeats Felix’s taunt that Dimitri used to get so excited while training that he’d break swords in half but he’s better with lances even though they have less durability? I forget with whom, but Dimitri shuts down the impossible dream of fellow lance lord Ephraim by acknowledging that his traveling the world as a warrior would be irresponsible. The gender of Shamir’s first love might depend on Byleth’s - will have to see how the f!Byleth support words it.

As for the story, this is the moment where Dimitri makes his turn back toward sanity and a sense of personal responsibility. Just as I predicted, his decision to allow that unnamed orphan girl to join the army turns out to have been a bad one. After Rodrigue takes a blade for his prince and Byleth shows himself again adept at swift executions, Dimitri is moved by the death of yet another of his loved ones to go walking in the rain and respond favorably to vaguely inspirational dialogue choices. While I understand what the writers were going for, I have two issues with this sequence of events. The first is minor, in that the CGs used for them - of Fleche preparing to stab Dimitri and Rodrigue stepping between them, of the dying Rodrigue cradling Dimitri’s face, and of Dimitri in the rain - don’t do a very good job of matching the intended mood. The first two use sunset lighting and thus appear much too soft, while Dimitri in the rain with his hair plastered to his head alone against a black background looks unsettling and almost creepy for what’s meant to be his big moment of redemption. That’s a small quibble with artistic choice, however.

On the other hand, my other issue will take a whole post to explain. I’ll be saving that for a larger Dimitri/Dedue project after I’ve completed playthroughs of all the routes routes, but my basic argument is this: Dedue being removed and then optionally re-inserted into the Blue Lions storyline was necessary for Dimitri’s emotional arc to make sense, and to allow Byleth a much larger role in said arc than they otherwise would have had. Yes, I have major shipping goggles on here, but try to imagine a scenario where Dedue saves Dimitri from prison and they go on the run together for five years, before reuniting with everyone at the monastery.

To no one’s surprise, Dedue takes up watching after the prince in the monastery the chapter after he returns. In Chapter 18 he comments that he’s the only that Dimitri hasn’t really changed despite appearing more sane, that he’s still too kind and sensitive to the suffering of war and that Dedue admires him for that. They’re just laying the subtext on thick now.

Related to my problem with the Alliance AI in the threeway battle, it’s never explained why Claude joins the battle at Gronder Field (apart from getting him into that cutscene they all share, anwyay). Prior to that battle House Reigan opposed the Empire and even engaged House Gloucester’s pro-Imperial faction to distract them from Chapter 16′s bridge. As the next chapter’s title references the Deer however I imagine I’ll get an explanation sooner rather than later.

Cornelia’s cleavage may be impossible, but as far as under-dressed female villains in this series go she wasn’t terrible. She doesn’t flirt with anyone and apparently got her lofty position in the Kingdom through her talents at magic and infrastructure reform (which may have included the turrets and giant robots in Fhirdiad? Was that the implication?). Her dying revelation about Dimitri’s stepmother would have landed better had we ever seen anything of her, but I suppose as Edelgard’s birth mother she’ll be brought up again in some capacity on her route.

#Fire Emblem #FE16 #Fire Emblem Three Houses #Spoilers

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manifestoonmoralmanlove · 6 years ago

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Jealousy Rant

Hello you Rotten Folks,

Due to real life stuff I have been posting less frequently but in particular that long-form stuff. So have this big olde rant on jealousy in BL I may or may not edit more, and may or may not make into audio.

Triggers: for discussion on abusive behavior including physical violence, stalking, controlling behavior, and sexual assault.

Why jealousy is a bad trope:

1.) It’s toxic

2.) It’s non-conflict

3.) It doesn’t actually deal with the roots of jealousy

Are you a fan of Fap’s furious fujoshi fumes, but want a meta-analysis of the genre as a whole instead of specific titles?

Oh no it seems literally no one is asking for that…no one except Faps and FUCK YOU I DO WHAT I WANT HAHA!

So that brings me to “Trouble with Tropes” or heh heh TROUPLES!

Anybody who’s ANY fan of romance has had to stare into the unrelenting green eyes of this trouple. I speak of no other than Jealousy. While I think some of what I’m going to say will resonate with how jealousy is used in fiction on a whole, I’m going to focus on how it’s used in BL…which I feel is a very potent and distilled version of it. Also heaven forbid I read about anything beyond nasty gay tonguings.

What better place to start than What IS jealousy?

Jealousy can cover a variety of topics but in the case of romance here I will be talking specifically about romantic and sexual jealousy.

Dictionary.com states that - feeling or showing suspicion of someone's unfaithfulness in a relationship.

Seems to be the one best suited for a romance but I’d argue that the definition that suits BL’s brand of jealousy is more like

fiercely protective or vigilant of one's rights or possessions.

Why do I say this?

Well because sometimes they literally say their partner is a possession. And even if not outright stated, it is heavily implied in the script.

(examples: Cute Devil + lamb project + Radical blood monster + Others)

There’s also the fact that very rarely is infidelity even considered a legitimate thing that would occur. As I said, the jealousy in BL is very, very POTENT and therefore has escalated beyond a suspicion of COULD BE UNFAITHFUL to a PERSON IS MY PROPERTY AND MY PROPERTY IS NOT ALLOWED TO INTERACT WITH OTHER HUMANS!

Getting real

Before I start ripping through this topic like a repressed teenage boy rips through a heavily populated street in Grand theft Auto… allow me to say that jealousy is a valid emotion to experience. When I rip on this trope it is not my intention to invalidate people who do struggle with jealousy in their relationships. However if you experience an emotion it doesn’t give you carte blanche to behave in any way you please. It’s the same as regular old anger. It’s normal to be angry if a partner forgets to let the dog out so the dog pees on the rug. However beating the shit out of that partner is NOT the right way to handle the forgetfulness or your own anger. Same with jealousy, it’s not unusual to get jealous of someone close to their partner. However that person responding to that with physically removing them, and screaming threats at them is SUPER NOT OKAY! Yet that is not uncommon in BL.

One must also maintain an acceptable amount of jealousy in order to maintain a healthy relationship. It’s not wrong to feel really angry or sad when you’re jealous…but if you get these feelings ALL THE TIME and due to things that are not a threat to your relationship, then that’s something to manage rather than something to blame on your partner. Capice?

TOXIC

The main problem is that the jealousy that is common in BL is HELLA TOXIC! Jealousy is regularly tied to deeper issues of personal insecurity yet the fact there is any kind of insecurity is very rarely mentioned in the text or even subtext of the story. Instead of this becoming a problem that one has to deal with on a personal level, it becomes a problem of the other having to obtain unrealistic standards. Sometimes the source of the jealousy is not a feasible such as a TODDLER NEPHEW or the fact that strangers GLANCE AT THEM when in public and sometimes the source of the jealousy isn’t even human. I have seen characters throw jealousy tantrums over pets, work (school or career orientated), and even the vague concept of a SPORT! So if you’re trying to avoid jealousy in a BL make sure you don’t go to school, don’t have a job, don’t own pets, don’t have family, don’t go out in public, and DEAR GOD don’t have hobbies either! Woah faps those things aren’t humans so it’s not like romantic or sexual jealousy. That’s a fair point…but the thing is the romantic/sexual jealousy functions the exact same way in those non-sexual/romantic scenarios. HOW COULD THAT BE???? Well the jealousy that we see here is in part about being left out when a partner does other things but is in large part about dominance. You got no other man to posture against? Well then just posture at a child, a puppy, or at a basketball why not?

Not only does jealousy crop up to unreasonable situations, an unreasonable amount of time (I’d estimate it occurs in 80% of BL mangas) but the way it’s handled is usually problematic as well.

The most common response I’ve seen to jealousy is the seme grabbing the uke by the wrist, dragging him away from the source of jealousy, pinning him to a wall, explaining that the source of jealousy is bad for the uke or that the uke is behaving poorly/stupidly by simply interacting with the source of jealousy, and they a fit of forceful jealousy induced make-outs or sex occurs that range from consensual to downright very non-consensual. Sometimes the uke will protest this treatment or the characterization of the jealousy fodder but this is pointless because it doesn’t become a conversation. It is simply about the seme controlling the uke and asserting his dominance.

Stalking is also extremely common if there is suspected jealousy. Troubling jealousy behavior can range from as tame as going through someone’s phone without permission to drugging, kidnapping, and nearly killing a partner for one of these trespasses.

HEY HEY HEY NOW! You man-hater! Ukes can be super creepy jealous too! …but ukes are men too… THAT’S NOT THE POINT! You’re acting as if only dominant partners experience jealousy!

No, no, no, you’re right. Ukes get jealous too and sometimes to the same batty degree. Yet, as a whole, uke jealousy tends to be less common and less destructive than jealousy of the seme variety. The most common situation where an uke gets jealous of what a seme is doing is, the uke is pushed into a corner to admit he’s jealous. The seme will reassure the uke he’s misunderstood and they make up. On one hand you can argue that this is a much healthier way to settle a jealousy problem. On another hand you may view this as something of a double standard.

If the uke’s jealous…it’s the uke’s fault and it’s nothing to worry about. If the seme’s jealous...it’s the uke’s fault and it’s deadly serious.

This double standard even extends into how we view violent reactions for either side. If a seme hits an uke for a trespass it will usually be framed as serious and scary. If the uke hits the seme for a trespass it will usually be framed as a silly, and harmless outburst of tsundereness.

…Yes that’s right, the patriarchal set up of the seme/uke dynamic doesn’t just take a shit on ukes….though 9 times out of 10 it’s the ukes that do get the short end of the stick here.

Okay but let’s get the root of the problem…why is jealousy used?

If you’re a person who is not a bitter feminist killjoy who says aggravating SJW shit like, “TOXIC MONOGOMY CULTURE OPRRESSES MY GENDER NEUTRAL GENITLES” you may argue that jealousy is romantic. I personally don’t think it is, but you’re fully allowed to view jealousy, as a concept, as a touching display of vulnerability and investment in a relationship.

However if you’re a cynical over-thinking fujoshi brimming with resentment to the genre you’ve mistakeningly dedicated your free time to, you may say the frequent use of jealousy is simply because it’s EASY WRITING!

It’s handy throw-away drama you can use in an established relationship that won’t have deeper ramifications for the relationship even if it’s on-going. You can solve this pretty easily at any given point or decide to reintroduce it despite it previously being wrapped up. You can use this almost TOTALLY regardless of either of the characters’ personalities or back stories. It’s good for a quick antagonist, or to tantalize fans with a different flavor of sexual tension. This is usually dependent on the gender of the jealousy fodder.

Ugh I’ve heard you use the term ~jealousy fodder~ like a billion times. Why do you call it that?

Because these characters rarely have anything going for them besides the fact they’re the conflict du-jour. You’d be hard pressed to learn an interest of the fodder’s outside of “TRYING TO BANG PROTAG!” and they rarely do anything else in the story besides create this shallow drama. Sometimes the jealousy drama is totally auxiliary to the main conflict of the story to boot. If you’re lucky and ONLY if you’re lucky the fodder will be shuffled into another couple. Sometimes you won’t even see this jealousy used in a love triangle way. It’s usually pretty obvious from the beginning that the protag is going to choose even if the other option is an objectively better person and choice for them.

In my years of reading BL I have only encountered 2 instances of a character being jealous and the other character ACTUALLY cheats on him. (Zetsuai Bronze and Totally Captivated.) Now people have different standards of what “cheating” is. Some goes so far as to say that “Thinking about cheating” is CHEATING. Even by that (pretty ridged standard) I would still say only the above.

Despite this low, low number, I see jealousy used in manga 80% of the time. Are you picking up what I’m putting down here? A breach of actual trust is not actually going to happen…99.99% of the time. Oh but what if the jealousy is something a character has to work through to feel less anxious? Excellent idea! I’ve seen that approach FUCKING ONCE! (Café Latte Rhapsody) So if there is no actual threat of trust breaching and it’s not something either of them has to work through on a mental or emotional level….WHAT KIND OF CONFLICT IS THAT?

NON-FUCKING-CONFLICT IS WHAT!

I’d be much more entertained by staring into my own fucking bellybutton….but faps obviously you would since you navel-gaze as if you have a gemstone there. IF I BELIEVE HARD ENOUGH I’LL BECOME I CRYSTAL GEM OKAY!?!?!?!?

Eh-hem!

But you will see jealousy commonly used in one instance of actually plot important drama. And that is the ever, important, cementing of a couple’s relationship. I call the use of jealousy in this instance:

TOY TRUCK CONSUMATION

Da fuck is that? Toy truck consummation is a character will only realize he truly cares romantically for someone because he experiences jealousy. He didn’t want that toy truck until somebody else was going to play with it. Thankfully I don’t see this often outside of high school settings. A grown-ass man who is that fucking blind to his own feelings and childish enough to throw a tantrum out of it, can fuck RIGHT OFF! ….Though honestly teenagers behaving that way is still deeply shitty.

This is not an auspicious beginning to a loving relationship, if it’s formulated over single-mindedly hating a 3rd party, a 3rd party that is typically on good-terms with the target of affection. So, a relationship we’re supposed to root for is predicated on a dude swooping in and ripping a valued person away from them for entirely selfish reasons. I wouldn’t consider it dreamy if a seme threw an uke’s beloved play station 4 out the window because it holds the ukes attention sometimes. I consider it even less dreamy when it’s something even more valued like yanno a friend. (Though of course this can happen from the uke to the seme as well.) While sometimes, this individual is romantically interested in one of our leads…I’d say a good half the time if not more…they’re not at all.

“Why are you losing your mind over someone, you’re not dating, hanging out with their friend? Even if the friend very obviously has 0 romantic or sexual interest in them? Is it because you’re an anal fungus that causes people to shit their pants for no reason? It’s probably because you’re a parasitic ass mushroom that makes people poop uncontrollably”

This, also, is pretty damn lazy. Writing someone coming to grips with a difficult emotion is hard in itself. Writers will usually use 3rd parties to help bounce information back to a struggling individual to help give them insight. And that can be used in this case as well! Interacting with another couple, talking to someone who’s an out LGBTQ person, or even just a friend or relative that can relate! However all of that is harder to pull off as melodramatically as a petty fuck-lord gut-punching a jealousy fodder out of the blue. Hoo boy sonny! We should have a parade in his honor cause golly isn’t that the way to handle your problems!

But what if the jealousy fodder was really after them?

Then I would say the story may feature the trope….

Irrational jealousy magiced into rational jealousy!

What I mean is that there is a dominant that appears to be irrationally jealous. There is no indication in the text the jealousy fodder is not on the up and up and the dominant is not privy to classified documents that make him secretly suspicious. However turns out the harmless friend, acquaintance, co-worker, boss, mail man etc is actually a heartless rapist just trying to lower the submissive’s guard.

This trope makes me foam at the mouth because not only is it cheap, cliché, and annoying but it justifies abusive behavior. It states that No matter what crazy shit that lunatic boyfriend of yours spouts he’s fucking infallible. If he tells you that the atmosphere has become poisonous to you and the only breathable air is in his testicles, you better clamp down on that cocktail wiener like a pit-bull because any damn self-serving nonsense he spews must be followed to the fucking letter. Why? Because he is a mind-reader, a genius, and a clairvoyant with flawless judgment by nature of being born a DOMINANT MAN! TA-DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!

May I just add this is not a trope specific to BL but a trope that makes me want to drink into a stupor each time I see it.

Well if you’re so fucking relationship savy, how would you handle jealousy in stories huh!?

…By actually tackling the causes of jealousy which are very rarely acknowledged in BL. As far as I can tell there are 3 major roots of jealousy.

1.) Insecurity – I am not a good enough partner so my significant other is going to drop me as soon as they find somebody better.

2.) Distrust – My partner does not respect our monogamous agreement and will sleep with other people if they can get away with it.

3.) Missing out - I feel left out if my partner is doing something without me.

I have seen all three roots play a role in fictional jealousy outbursts and they’re usually tied intimately together. However the 1st two are the keys here.

Mistrust is an interesting situation because 99% of the time the mistrust is not that the partner will sleep around given the chance. However the mistrust is shown as more of a, “I cannot trust my partner to avoid situations where they’ll be sexually assaulted.”

While this is framed as a jealousy issue at times, I don’t think it should. Why? If a character is sexually assaulted it is NOT the victims fault. But haha welcome to the 50 foot deep pit of backwards sexual politics that is BL. YOU’RE WELCOME!

Insecurity plays a large role in BL jealousy…but I have only seen it addressed directly as a failing of personal confidence once. (Café Latte Rhapsody)

Most of the time characters that are subtextualy highly insecure are portrayed as powerful and that their jealousy tantrums is just ~how strong men act~ rather than ~they obviously hate themselves and fear their partner would find someone better.~

I’ll be quite frank, a lot of the time…they’re correct the uke could do a lot better than the jerkass seme they’re saddled with. However, instead of changing their negative behavior for the better they just control the uke’s every movements which is yanno not doing the uke OR the seme any favors. Sometimes this functions realistically in a story like in Space Between where Riki is an unwilling sex slave and Iason keeps him under his thumb. However the majority of them treat this like a normal and healthy relationship…but

Wouldn’t it be better if one is not constantly wracked with fear over their partner leaving them?

Wouldn’t it be better if the other can have friends and leave the house?

I’m not saying the two can’t struggle with issues of jealousy…but I mean…can’t we treat jealousy like something they work on together instead of just,

“I can’t believe you talked to them! I DIDN’T MEAN TO!”

That sound clip? Just play it on loop

“WELP LET’S HAVE THIS SAME EXACT PISSING CONTEST FOR THE 90TH FUCKING TIME! IT’S NOT GOING TO BE DIFFERENT NEXT TIME BECAUSE WE’RE NOT GOING TO TREAT IT LIKE ADULTS WOULD!”

So the problem with jealousy as a trope in romance and BL fiction is thus:

1.) It’s toxic, doesn’t treat it as toxic, and sometimes justifies the toxicity.

2.) It’s pathetic, cliché, non-conflict

3.) It doesn’t really even understand what jealousy is.

#trouples #trouble with tropes #rant #my rant #jealousy

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clockworkdryad · 7 years ago

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A Plan, of Sorts

She woke from a nap with a start, heart pounding and short of breath. The nightmare faded, leaving only echoes of the terror it had carried with it: the memories of voidsent.

No, she was safe. She looked around, she was in the lounge at the tea house, laying on a couch. Her daughter was nearby coloring in a book (thankfully, one designed for such things). She had simply fallen asleep on the couch. Well, she needed a nap.

She didn’t need a nap, she could have taken one of her stimulants to stay awake, but those were in short supply now.

Nihka closed her eyes and sighed, letting her anger at her retainer wash over her and slide away. She hated more than almost anything, when someone treated her like they knew what was best for her. The thing she hated more? Those few times the other person was right.

Her thoughts, then, drifted to Orrin. Surely he meant well, but his condescension drove her crazy. By now, Kiht would have talked to him about what they’d discovered about the baroness. How had he reacted? What would he say, next time he saw Nihka? Would he try to tell her to stay home and stay safe? Would he tell her that messing with voidsent was dangerous, as if she didn’t already know?

Focusing on this anger, though, her heart rate only climbed. Her carbuncle approached and nosed at her, worried, and she rolled onto her side and forced a smile, petting the lovely creature.

In the end, her feelings regarding Orrin didn’t matter so long as they could work together to ... what were their goals, anyway? What did they want to accomplish?

She sat up and grabbed her journal where it lay on the floor beside the couch. Their goals, what were they? She started to write.

Goals: preserve Fae freedom; save girls nest bird; purge void all form

Assets: Kiht, Nihka, Verad, Bartu, Anonymous, lalafell bodyguard, Spahro, Alrix, Mathieu?

She hesitated, then added Orrin to the list of assets. She could swallow a few insults from him. He probably didn’t even realize he was insulting her. (Still, it didn’t quite occur to her to approach him and explain why it was so insulting. Such a mature line of thought was still a few suns or moons away. She would get there, eventually.) Who else could she ask for help here? Anstarra? No, as long as Anstarra’s brother was still a threat, Nihka didn’t want to take any of her beloved’s attention away from resolving that issue. Okay, keep it small for now. Move on.

Skills: Alchemy, Hunt/stalk, Cute, polite, fight, shite, dubiousness

So, technically not all of those were skills. More like approaches. She scratched out the word skills and replaced it with a more appropriate label.

Avenue:

Ilviene Drudoy

Temple Knight (compromise?)

Inquisition (DANGER!)

Construction company Ishgard

Need

Map of manor

Way in plural

Secret chambers. More?

Info Nest Cage as much possible

Locate to protect Fae

She sighed. It wasn’t a comprehensive list, but it was a good place to start. There were things that needed done. If she and Aya went to talk to Ilviene, they might be able to learn more information about the Nest and the Caged Bird. What about more legal ways? Well, she only knew one person who knew the way Ishgard worked. She pulled out some paper and started drafting a letter, little more than a quick note.

Orrin

I am send this letter with personal courier. By now Kiht talk to you. You aware are aware of a threat in the family. You are only person can think to talk to about. I am assume that is very likely; tied to noble family, even many knights will side with noble more than right. I know family tie to inquisitor. Need some way to know: which inquisitor, which knight, will not side with villain.

Maybe is paranoid; I worry if try say public, family will hush news. Worst case scenario: Inquisitor will side with family. You are probably already work on: identify which can be trust to side against threat. If you are not: you are only one who can. Please do.

Have evidence. Not enough. Need to know who can trust. I trust you. You need to know who you can trust.

She frowned. Such horrid writing, but it was so much better than it used to. Singing, it seemed, had done more than help her speak. It still looked like someone illiterate had scribbled out jumbled thoughts in flawless handwriting, but it was better. She tapped her lip, then pulled out another sheet of paper.

Bartu

I have job for you. Very important. Very important person; I expect will be try travel far east. You know the person. You know she will travel with new mate. With horse. Can only guess: best place to get boat: Limsa. Talk with merchant, talk with shipyards, talk with any able. In order to protect friend, need to be able to find.

Also important: look for people try to follow friend. If people try follow, all us need try to stop. All us need to know if attempt to follow.

Nihka bit her lip, then folded up the two letters and prepared them to be sent. She would ask her retainer to hand deliver them: she didn’t trust the moogles. Too mischievous. (Though, Min could be quite mischievous herself.) With those letters written, she turned back to her journal.

Ambush. Fighters: Kiht, Lalafell Bodyguard. Anonymous. Why? Why is she bait? Orrin?

Goal? Find faceless. (dangerous). Capture? Kill?

They wanted to bait out the faceless man, but they would need as many capable fighters as they could to capture him. Of course, was capture even feasible? Or were they just planning to kill him. Assuming, of course, killing was possible. She kept writing notes, moving down the list of assets they had available. Spahro would be able to spread word quickly, but it was far too early to publish anything. Such action now would only put their enemy on guard. Was there, however, some other thing that Spahro could do? What rumors might help, rather than hinder? If they wanted to lure someone into a trap, maybe Spahro could put out a piece to help with that. Nihka underlined that note, and moved on.

Alrix. Mathieu. Two of the suitors that seemed like they might be trustworthy. How much did she want to share with them? If she shared too much with Alrix, he might go gallivanting off to save the day. The thought of him getting hurt? He was too pure, too earnest. His younger sister was too wonderful to bring any more hurt into her life than might already exist. She paused for a moment, then added a note and underlined it five times:

Send candy to Marjorie

There was more work to do. There would always be more work to do. But, she had just woken up from a nap and now her stomach was rumbling. It was time to go make something to eat, it was time to spend some time with her daughter.

#Verad Bellveil Vs The World #ffxiv rp #nihka mioni

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bakusquadup · 7 years ago

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Since you seem to have an obsession with brother bakugou now, how about some Headcanon of the guys of your choice as big brothers?

Honestly, all of y’all are just feeding too much into this older brother scenario, letting me become obsessed with it. It needs to stop, but it also needs to keep going, because I love it. A lot. Without further ado, here are some of BNHA boys as big brothers. P.S. I was gonna do Todo as well, but because of his whole situation with his family, it didn’t seem feasible that he’d ever have a younger sibling.

Bakugou’s one (the one that started it all) can be found here.

Kirishima Eijirou

Will definitely be your stereotypical big brother, calling the younger sibling “squirt” or “kid” and being super protective of them.

If he has a brother, he is constantly telling him about how to be “manly.” If he has a sister, he is listing off all the strange guys to avoid. Either way, the younger sibling probably really look up to and love their big bro.

Some minor rough-housing occurs a lot growing up. The younger sibling’s quirk first appears in the middle of tackling Eiji, giving him a large scrape up his arm. The younger one cried more than he did

Iida Tenya

He’s going to do his best to be to the little one what his older brother was to him. He wants to be the role model for the youngest.

The youngest probably completely idolizes him at first, but as they get older, they get more and more annoyed at his goody-two-shoes tendencies. Iida is almost grief-stricken when they yell at him to leave them alone one day.

They come back around eventually though, knowing their brother just means well. They still love him

The two younger siblings will watch any and all news about their older brother together. They feel incredibly proud to be related to such an amazing hero.

Bonus: when Tensei stops home occasionally, he and the youngest will team up to mess with Iida

Tokoyami Fumikage

Think of it though: dark, emo older brother and a cute, happy younger sister. Or don’t because you may cry like me.

When his little sister is born, Tokoyami is actually terrified that something so delicate is in the house. He’s afraid that he’ll just break her in half. Holes up in his room for a week.

Eventually, Dark Shadow convinces him to go and meet the baby. His sister is overjoyed to see him, gurgling happily and grabbing at the feathers on his head.

Toko almost acts as two older brothers in one because of Dark Shadow

Sometimes Toko will stay inside his room for extended periods of time, just wanting to be alone with the Darkness™ but he’ll also come out to spend time with his little sister if she tells him she’s lonely.

#kirishima eijirou #iida tenya #fumikage tokoyami #bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #my hero academia scenarios #boku no hero academia scenarios #imagines

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rebeccahpedersen · 7 years ago

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Either You “Get It,” Or You Don’t

TorontoRealtyBlog

People. Honestly. They’re the worst.

I’m channelling my inner-Seinfeld with that quote, but seriously folks – I was just shocked by some of the people I met two weeks ago when I had a hot listing for sale, and I couldn’t believe how they approached both the price of the property, as well as the process surrounding the sale.

I’m constantly amazed at how a person can be so intelligent, yet have so little common sense. And during the course of this listing, “those” people were lined up in droves.

You either “get it,” or you don’t. And try explaining to somebody who doesn’t “get it,” and you’re wasting your time…

Remember the good old days of including a photo of your family, and a hand-written note with your offer?

Those days are almost gone, right?

Once upon a time, when prices were lower, and when the spread between the lowest and highest offers was smaller, those personal touches did have an effect.

I remember submitting an offer for a family member back in 2006, with a cute photo, and a note. And although we weren’t the highest offer, we were in the top two – out of twelve. And we were given a chance to improve our offer, and we won.

I’ll be the first person to suggest that no seller out there (save for the one that spawned a much-shared newspaper article a few years back) is going to take substantially less money for his or her home, because the buyers are nice.

But it certainly doesn’t hurt, and in some very unique cases, the home-owners might want to sell to you, and give you a second chance, or give your agent a push.

Whether those days have passed, or not, I don’t think a buyer should take the opposite approach, and go out of their way to be rude to everybody involved in the process.

The following story might be lost on some of you, but I see things through a different set of eyes: those of an agent. I’m constantly amazed by buyers who are completely out of touch with market reality, whether it’s the price of real estate in 2018, or the process, and who fail to accept current market conditions for what they are.

Two weeks ago, I had a listing in North Toronto where the sellers were 90-years-old, and had been in the home for almost a half-century.

The sellers were going to be home for every showing, which ordinarily, as you know from reading this blog, I would never suggest, or allow. But as we had expected 30+ showings in a week, and with the age of the sellers, it just wasn’t feasible for them to leave the property for an hour, several times per day, and we didn’t want to restrict showings by asking for 4-hour’s notice.

In the end, the sellers being home became an asset, as “Gramma,” as we’ll call her in this story, bonded with just about every single set of buyers that came through the door.

I’ll be honest – the interest level was far higher than expected, and although I figured builders could be all over this property due to the age, most of the buyers looked at the home as a classic gem, and planned to do a modest renovation, or even move right in after some minor repairs.

This house was charming, historical, and full of character. I know that real estate agents say that about just about every property in Toronto, but you’ll have to take my word for it here. And as a result, almost every buyer through was looking for the history and character that a house like this could provide, and they loved meeting the owners, and exchanging stories.

For the owners, who had been here for 49 years, this was like a Broadway play being acted out in front of them all day, every day.

They loved it.

Perhaps it’s cliche to say “old people love to chat,” but in this case, it’s an understatement.

“Gramma” got the down-low on every person that came through, and for the most part, it was a two-way street.

I think the word was out pretty quickly that there would be action on this home.

I’ll spare you the surprise – we had nine offers, and we would have had more, but one rescinded right before offer presentation, and several others just didn’t want to get involved.

Suffice it to say, I think most buyers through the house figured, with the sellers present, they should try to make that personal connection that might help them on offer night. As a result, every time I came by the house to do a showing, or check up on the property, I found the sellers engaged in the middle of a story-exchange with the buyers.

Wow, did they talk. Talk, talk, talk, all week long.

But these buyers were savvy! They knew it was a small city, and you’re bound to know some of the same people.

One set of buyers came back with their parents, and their grandparents! And the grandparents lived in the same condo that the sellers would be moving to.

Another set of buyers had a connection to the same vacation complex that the sellers frequented.

Another set of buyers knew the sellers’ friends from bridge.

Over and over, buyers paraded through, and spent an equal amount of time looking at the house, as they did chatting up the sellers.

I showed up one night and saw “Gramma” holding both hands of one young buyer, facing eachother, in a heartfelt moment.

Just about every buyer through, “got it,” and knew how to play the game.

Just about, as the story goes…

I received a cold call on the property, and I had arranged to meet the buyers there at 7:00pm one night.

The house was a revolving door of action, all week. 7pm most nights, there were 3-4 groups through.

So by 7:25pm, when I sent a text message to the cold-caller to ask where he was, he responded, “In the basement.”

Unbeknownst to me, this young couple had waltzed through the front door, didn’t look for “the agent,” being me, and took it upon themselves to walk through at their convenience.

Upon meeting them, and introducing myself, I was asked, “So what can you tell me?” by the 40’ish young gentleman, with his wife in tow.

I gave him the rundown of the home, the pros and cons, and each time I finished a sentence, he responded by essentially putting words in my mouth.

“The house was built in 1936,” I said, to which he replied, “So it clearly isn’t in good shape, right? That’s going to affect the price?”

“There’s a beautiful ravine lot in the back,” I said, to which he replied, “So a lot of buyers looking to put in a pool won’t like it, you mean?”

Over, and over, and over. I know this “type,” and hey – whatever floats your boat. But in this market, and for this property, the attitude made no sense to me whatsoever.

He constantly disagreed with me at every turn, and feigned a real estate expertice that just wasn’t there.

Things went a bit off the rails when I told him that we’d be reviewing offers the following Tuesday.

“Offer date?” he said, with a deliberate throw-back of his head. “You have an offer date? Why? This house isn’t worth even close to the asking price.”

I’ve mentioned on occasion that I don’t blow up, I don’t take bait, I don’t fight back, and I always take the high road. I wasn’t going to argue with him, but I did engage him.

“Well,” I began, “We’ve had over 40 showings so far, I’ve had agents ask about bully offers, and if I had to guess, I’d say we’ll get our asking price, who knows – maybe more.”

“But an offer date?” he said. “Nobody is doing offer dates anymore. That time has passed.”

“Actually, just about every freehold house in Toronto has an offer date,” I told him. “The market is alive and well again.”

“No, it’s not,” he said, so matter-of-factly that your average Joe would be convinced.

Not wanting to belabour the point, I simply said, “Well, I’ll know if I’m wrong, next Tuesday.”

He shrugged, and walked away, and continued to point out issues with the home.

As I said, I know the type. He figures he can create this scenario whereby what he wants, and what he believes, could come true.

Meanwhile, there was a young lady in the kitchen with “Gramma,” laughing and sharing photos of her children. Gramma was one minute from going upstairs to get a photo album…

I walked to the front door with Mr. 40-something and his wife as we finished our tour, and he asked about offer night. He then added, “We don’t have an agent,” to which I said, “I know, I had asked your wife that when we spoke two days ago,” and amazingly he said, “Well…..heh….I mean, we would get one. We know a couple of guys that will do the offer for us and just refund their commission.”

Now the reason I ask cold callers, “Are you working with an agent?” isn’t because I’m trying to pick them up as buyers, and the issue has nothing to do with commission – at least not for me. It’s about clear and identifiable representation, and I’m not going to show somebody else’s client a home, because it puts me in a position I don’t want to be in. It’s a clear conflict of interest.

In any event, I told Mr. 40’ish, “Your wife had told me last week that you didn’t have an agent, that’s why I’m showing you the home. I have to ask, why didn’t you get your agent to show you the home?”

He replied, with an aggressive undertone, “Well, I obviously didn’t waste his time.”

And here’s where I really fail to this guy’s “strategy.” He’s snuck into the house, he’s already gone through the house and criticized it, he’s made no effort to speak to the sellers, and now he’s effectively telling the listing agent, “I want to waste your time.”

I wasn’t hurt, and I wasn’t fussed about the wasted time. I would have lived in that listing if I had to, but I just couldn’t figure out why he couldn’t see the error of his ways.

He went on to explain, “I’m a lawyer, you see, and if I make an offer, I’m going to put some pretty complex language in my offer regarding commission, so I don’t want you to be caught off guard.”

So now he was telling me I’m a moron as well.

I could have told you this guy was a lawyer from the moment I met him, and I’m not knocking lawyers – my father just retired after a 40-year career as a criminal lawyer. My uncle is a lawyer. My aunt is a Supreme Court justice. But I knew this guy was a lawyer, and perhaps it explained why he was trying to create his own narrative.

That following weekend, an agent called me from a brokerage I had never heard of, and said he would have an offer on Tuesday for the property. He said, “My buyer wants to be in the presentation room though, is that okay with you?”

It was an odd request. Sometimes buyers will accompany their agent to the brokerage, but to be in the presentation? I’ve never see that.

I asked the agent simply, “To what end?” and he replied, “He wants to explain his offer, maybe chat with the sellers a little bit.” Right. I read that as, “He want’s to present his own offer.”

My spidey-sense was tingling, and I thought of Mr. 40’ish, so I asked the agent, “Is your client’s name John Smith?”

Of course it was!

This young lawyer, who’s occupation is to make arguments, wanted to come into the presentation room with the sellers, and berate them with reasons why his offer was the best, why they should sell to him, and probably why they should take less money too.

In any event, offer day came, and we had nine offers. We were shocked by the response, as we really didn’t intend to under-price the home, but as is the problem with all of the city right now – there’s just nothing on the market.

The first agent came in to present his offer, and he had with him a letter written by the buyers, complete with a family photo.

I handed it to “Gramma” to read, and she immediately started to cry.

So then I started to read the letter, and as she gently sobbed away, and as “Grampa’s” lip began to quiver, I got emotional as well.

I eventually handed the letter to their grandson to read, which he did. By the end of it, “Gramma” was wiping away tears.

She remembered the buyers from both of their visits to the house. I recall she looked up at the lady at one point and said, “How come you’re so tall……..and I’m so damn short?” while sitting at the kitchen table, knitting away, with people pouring through her home.

They had a good laugh, she explained, “You know…..I used to be a lot taller,” as any old-lady would, and she got to see the whole family on the second viewing when the kids were running rampant through the home.

Their offer was certainly in the mix, but it helped that the sellers liked them.

We went through a few more offers, and eventually in walked an agent I had never heard of, from a company I had never heard of, in an Ontario suburb.

He had a letter of his own, but this one would be very, very different.

The offer, and the letter, was from Mr. 40’ish. And it began with something to the extent of:

“I would have liked to be sitting with you in person right now to present our offer, but unfortunately, your agent advised us this wasn’t possible, so we will have to rely on our agent to present our offer instead.”

Great start.

As I’m the one reading this, and his letter is already taking a swipe at me, again, I couldn’t understand what he was thinking.

The letter went on to talk a whole lot about the buyers themselves, and less about the sellers and their home.

Then came the clincher:

“Rather get enter into a prolonged negotiation with you, we’ve instructed our agent to make an unconditional offer at your full list price.”

Do you see the problem here?

We had nine offers.

The property sold for a quarter-million over asking.

And his offer was the lowest of the nine offers.

Now at this point, I may have already lost some of you.

Some of you might think this was just a guy, trying to do what was best for his family, or that he didn’t “need” to “over-bid” for the property.

But I don’t see it that way. I see things in black and white, and I live in the reality of our Toronto market.

This young man decided that he was smarter than everybody else, and that he was going to talk his way through the process, and win. That’s his legal background working its way into his personal life, and the competitive world of Toronto real estate.

But honestly, folks, he made a mistake at every possible juncture.

He called the listing agent and said he didn’t have an agent, when he did.

He walked into the house when the front door was open, rather than calling the agent, or ringing the doorbell, and saw nothing wrong with doing so.

He made no effort to connect with the sellers, let alone, say hello to them.

He belittled the house.

He insulted the listing agent, on multiple occasions.

He “hired” a bum agent who was completely unprepared and unqualified to present his offer, because he thought he could save money.

He asked to present his offer in person, which is something I have never seen done before.

He wrote a “me, me, me” letter to the sellers, in which he threw the listing agent under the bus for not allowing him direct access to the sellers.

He offered the list price, and tried to use some sort of reverse psychology in saying “I don’t want to negotiate, so here’s your list price,” to try to sway them.

He did everything wrong, at every possible opportunity.

And in the end, the nice “tall lady” got the house. Her family had the highest offer once the process was completed, and the sellers saved their personal note, along with two others that were just beautiful.

Mr. 40’ish’s letter went in the recycling.

I’m not faulting Mr. 40’ish for not wanting to bid higher; that’s not what this is about. I’ve re-read this post twice now, trying to see it from the perspective of your typical Toronto buyer, to see how the view might differ from that of an agent, and the one thing perhaps you might see, that I didn’t, is that I’m somehow blaming a buyer for not having a crystal ball, or not wanting to spend past their budget.

But this wasn’t about the sale price.

This was about the buyer, who just didn’t “get it.”

From start to finish, there was no common sense. And while I don’t want to turn this into an advertisement for hiring buyer-agents, certainly if this guy had a buyer agent who had two wits about him, the agent would have told him to be a little more courteous, and perhaps that the list price up against eight competing offers, wasn’t worth the paper it’s printed on.

There are a lot of buyers in this market who just don’t “get it.”

Buyers who want to create their own narrative, and who hope, pray, wish, and dream about and for market conditions that don’t at all reflect reality.

We can all dream, but most of us snap out of it, and get back to our lives.

Many buyers don’t. And they’re left in the false reality they’ve created, forever.

I have other stories from this listing, and from the last couple of weeks, that underscore this idea of “getting it,” or failing to live in market reality. Perhaps I’ll come back to it on Thursday…

The post Either You “Get It,” Or You Don’t appeared first on Toronto Real Estate Property Sales & Investments | Toronto Realty Blog by David Fleming.

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