#not even a hint of anything outside Europe

[b0hannon]

got my dna test results back and it turns out I’m 100% White Boy.

[theonottsbxtch]

THE COME DOWN PT 2 | LN4

an: i'd like to preface this by saying this is not everyone's cup of tea and warn you ahead of time this faces the topic of substance abuse and overdose, so if you're not comfy reading this, step back now! if you or anyone you know needs help, please feel free to talk to me or here are links for who to talk to: united kingdom, united states, canada, europe. these are some of the links i've found, if you need help searching for one, my inbox is always open!

wc: 3.8k

warnings: substance abuse, overdose and mentions of death

part one

The flat was quiet, save for the occasional creak of the old pipes and the distant hum of traffic outside. She sat cross-legged on Oscar’s bed, wearing one of his oversized hoodies that smelled faintly of cedar and something else distinctly him. Her bag sat untouched in the corner; she hadn’t bothered unpacking, too afraid that settling in even slightly would mean acknowledging the enormity of what she’d done. Leaving Lando. Leaving everything behind.

Oscar was in the kitchen. She could hear the clatter of mugs and the low hiss of the kettle as he made tea, always keeping his hands busy to avoid saying too much. He had a way of filling silence that was considerate, like he understood she needed time and space but couldn’t leave her to drown in her thoughts.

Her phone buzzed on the bedside table. She ignored it. It wasn’t as though anyone important would be calling her, and she couldn’t stomach the idea of hearing Lando’s voice, slurred or otherwise. The last time still replayed in her mind, a cacophony of anger, confusion, and shame. She pulled the sleeves of the hoodie over her hands and pressed her fists to her temples, willing the memory away.

Oscar appeared in the doorway, balancing two steaming mugs. His face was a study in quiet concern, his dark eyes scanning her as though trying to decipher what she wasn’t saying.

“Chamomile,” he said, setting a mug on the bedside table. “It’s good for relaxing. Not that I think you need it,” he added quickly, scratching the back of his neck. “But, you know, just in case.”

She offered him a small smile. “Thanks, Osc.”

He stood there for a moment, uncertain, before finally retreating to the sofa in the other room. He hadn’t asked her why exactly she called him three nights ago looking like a ghost of herself. He didn’t need to. Oscar had always been like that—a safe harbour. Dependable. Steady. A friend.

She leaned back against the pillows, clutching the mug in her hands and letting the warmth seep into her fingers. The flat was so different from Lando’s. No art on the walls, no clutter, no hint of chaos or indulgence. It was simple and unpretentious, much like Oscar himself. For the first time in what felt like years, she felt like she could breathe.

But the guilt lingered, gnawing at her. She’d left Lando. Not just walked out, but abandoned him when he was at his lowest. The memory of his eyes, wide and red-rimmed, flashed through her mind. She squeezed her eyes shut. She wasn’t going to cry again. Not now.

The days at Oscar’s flat passed in a blur of silence and borrowed familiarity. She didn’t do much—couldn’t, really. Her thoughts were too loud, her energy sapped by the constant cycle of guilt, anger, and self-recrimination. Most of her time was spent curled up in Oscar’s bed, surrounded by the faint smell of his laundry detergent, trying not to think too hard about anything. It was a losing battle.

Oscar gave her space, which she appreciated. He didn’t hover or press her for answers, but he was always there, lingering at the edges of her solitude, ready if she needed him. Sometimes she found him at the small dining table in the corner of the living room, a book in one hand and a cup of tea in the other.

Tonight was one of those nights. She wandered out of his room with the cup of tea he’d given her. He glanced up when she padded into the living room but didn’t say anything, just offered a small, welcoming smile before returning to his book. She sat down opposite him, curling her legs beneath her, and watched him in the soft glow of the table lamp.

The book must have been gripping because his brow furrowed slightly, and he turned the pages with an almost reverent care. She noticed the way his fingers brushed the edges, like he didn’t want to crease them. She hadn’t seen him this still in years. But then again, she rarely ever saw Oscar now.

“Good book?” she asked eventually, her voice breaking the comfortable quiet.

He looked up, startled for a second, before the smile returned. “Yeah. Bit dense, though. I’m not sure I actually understand half of it.”

She huffed a small laugh, the first real one in days, and it surprised her. He noticed, too. For a moment, he just looked at her, like he wanted to say something, but then he shook his head and glanced back at the page.

The silence stretched on, but it wasn’t oppressive. She stared at the mug in her hands and her mind wandered—back to Lando, inevitably. To his voice, slurred and sharp; to the way he used to be, before everything went wrong. She wondered if he’d even noticed she was gone.

Oscar’s voice cut through the fog of her thoughts. “You don’t have to stay cooped up in there, you know.”

She blinked at him. “What?”

“In the bedroom,” he said, nodding towards the closed door behind her. “You’re welcome out here, anytime. Even if it’s just to sit.”

She hesitated, then nodded. “Thanks.”

They sat together like that for a while longer, him reading and her lost in thought. It was strange how easy it was to be with Oscar, even with all the mess she’d brought into his life. She wanted to thank him, to say something to convey just how much it meant that he’d opened his door to her without question. But the words felt too heavy, so she stayed quiet.

Later, when the weight of the day became too much, she retreated to his bed again. She pulled the covers up to her chin, staring at the ceiling, but sleep didn’t come easily. She kept seeing Lando’s face, hearing his voice. Over and over, the same thought clawed at her—I left him.

The phone call came in the early hours of the morning, jolting her awake. She fumbled for the phone on the bedside table, her heart already racing as she answered it.

“Hello?”

The voice on the other end was barely a whisper, but she recognised it instantly.

“It’s me,” Lando said, his voice cracking.

Her stomach twisted. “Lando? What’s wrong?”

“I… I don’t know what to do,” he mumbled, his words slurring together. Then the line went silent.

“Lando?” she said, louder this time, her voice thick with fear. “Lando, are you there?”

Nothing.

She sat up, her chest heaving as she tried to steady her breathing. She knew something was wrong. Her body knew it before her mind caught up. She stumbled out of bed and into the living room, where Oscar was sprawled on the sofa, asleep under a thin blanket. She shook him awake, her urgency spilling over.

“Osc, wake up,” she said, her voice shaking.

He groaned and sat up, rubbing his eyes. “What’s going on?”

“It’s Lando. I think something’s happened. We need to go. Now.”

Oscar blinked himself awake, shaking off the haze of sleep as he sat up on the sofa. The urgency in her voice jolted him fully alert. “What’s going on?” he asked, his voice low but sharp with concern.

“It’s Lando,” she said, pacing in frantic, uneven steps across the room. Her hands were shaking. “He called me, and something’s wrong. I don’t know what, but we have to go. Now, Osc. Please.”

Oscar frowned, running a hand through his dishevelled hair. “Wait, slow down. What did he say?”

“He didn’t—he barely said anything. But I know him. Something’s wrong.” Her voice cracked on the last word, and she stopped pacing, fixing him with a desperate look. “Please, Osc. We can’t waste time.”

He didn’t ask any more questions. He grabbed his keys from the table and pulled on his jacket. “Let’s go.”

The drive was a blur of adrenaline and recklessness. Oscar’s McLaren roared through the city streets, the tyres screeching as he ignored red lights and zipped through gaps in traffic that barely existed. She sat rigid in the passenger seat, clutching the edge of the seat with white-knuckled hands, her eyes fixed on the road ahead as though willing them to go faster.

“What’s his flat number again?” Oscar asked, his voice tight.

“Four. Top floor.”

When they reached the building, she was out of the car before he’d even fully stopped. She tore up the stairs two at a time, her breath coming in gasps, the blood pounding in her ears. Oscar was right behind her, keeping pace as she reached the fourth floor and darted to Lando’s door. She banged on it with both fists.

“Lando!” she shouted, her voice echoing down the empty hallway. “Open the door! It’s me!”

Nothing.

“Lando!” She banged harder, the sound reverberating through her skull. The silence on the other side of the door was deafening.

Oscar caught her arm gently, his expression grim. “Move,” he said.

Before she could argue, he planted a foot against the doorframe and slammed his shoulder into the wood. The first hit made it shudder; the second sent it crashing open.

The smell hit them first—a sharp, acrid scent that made her stomach turn. She rushed inside, her eyes darting around the dimly lit flat. “Lando?”

The bathroom door was ajar, and she spotted his legs sprawled on the tiled floor. Her heart stopped. “Oh, God.”

She ran to him, dropping to her knees beside his lifeless form. He was slumped against the tub, his head lolling to the side, his skin pale and clammy. An empty syringe lay on the floor next to him, and his breathing was shallow, barely there.

“Lando,” she whispered, her hands trembling as she cupped his face. “Lando, wake up. Please.”

Oscar appeared in the doorway, his face ashen. “Is he—?”

“Call an ambulance!” she cried, her voice breaking. “Right now, Osc!”

Oscar pulled out his phone, his fingers fumbling as he dialled. She turned back to Lando, tears streaming down her face. She shook him gently, her voice rising in desperation. “You don’t get to do this, Lando. You hear me? You don’t get to give up like this.”

The operator’s voice buzzed faintly from Oscar’s phone as he relayed their location. He crouched beside her, his free hand resting on her shoulder, trying to steady her as she broke down.

“Come on,” she pleaded, her forehead pressed against Lando’s. “You’re not allowed to leave me. Not like this.”

The sound of distant sirens filled the air, growing louder with each passing second. Oscar stayed silent, his grip firm but gentle, grounding her as she crumbled.

In that moment, a bitter realisation struck him—a knife twisting in his chest. No matter how much he wanted to, he could never truly have her. Her heart was still tethered to Lando, even in its shattered, battered state. And as he watched her hold the man who had hurt her in so many ways, he knew it would always be that way.

She, meanwhile, was drowning in her own spiral of guilt. She’d left him. She’d abandoned him when he needed her most. And now, seeing him like this, all she could think was, I’m the reason he’s here. I’m the reason this happened.

The paramedics burst through the door, their presence swift and efficient, but she didn’t move until Oscar gently pulled her away to let them work. She stood frozen, clutching the edge of the sink as they checked Lando’s pulse and prepared a stretcher.

“Will he be okay?” she asked, her voice barely audible.

One of the paramedics glanced at her with a professional calm. “We’re stabilising him. He’s got a chance.”

As they wheeled him out, Oscar stayed close to her side, his arm hovering protectively near her back. They followed the stretcher down the stairs, out into the crisp night air. She couldn’t stop trembling, her mind replaying the scene over and over.

For Oscar, the sight of her clinging to Lando’s hand as he was loaded into the ambulance was a final confirmation of what he’d already known deep down. He would always be the one standing on the sidelines, watching as her heart belonged to someone else.

“Come on,” he said gently, guiding her away from the flashing lights. “Let’s go.”

The ambulance doors slammed shut with a finality that echoed in the pit of her stomach. She stood on the pavement, watching as the vehicle sped away into the night, its siren cutting through the heavy silence. Her arms hung limply at her sides, her chest tight with the weight of too many emotions to name.

Oscar stood a step behind her, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets, the tension in his body radiating outwards. He wanted to say something, anything, but he knew better. She needed space, and he wasn’t sure he had the words to make this better, even if she’d let him try.

Finally, she turned to him, her face pale and streaked with tears. Her voice was a whisper, barely audible over the hum of the city. “I can’t believe I left him.”

Oscar frowned. “This isn’t your fault.”

Her eyes snapped to his, the raw guilt blazing in them making him wince. “Isn’t it? I walked out, Osc. I left him. I knew he was falling apart, and I still…” Her voice broke, and she pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes. “What kind of person does that?”

“The kind of person who couldn’t set herself on fire to keep someone else warm,” he said softly.

She stared at him, her breath hitching, but the words didn’t seem to sink in. She shook her head, taking a step back. “You don’t understand. You don’t know what it’s like to see someone you love destroy themselves, to feel like you’re all they have, and then to just… leave.”

Oscar’s jaw tightened. “You think I don’t know?” His voice was quiet but firm. “I’ve been watching you do it. For too long. Staying with him, breaking yourself to pieces trying to save him.”

Her lips parted, but no words came. She just looked at him, stunned, as though the weight of what he’d said was pressing down on her all at once.

“I’m not saying it to hurt you,” Oscar continued, his tone gentler now. “But you need to stop blaming yourself. Lando made his choices. You didn’t make him drink, or use, or…” He trailed off, running a hand through his hair. “You didn’t make him do this.”

She turned away, wrapping her arms around herself as though trying to hold the pieces together. “I just keep thinking… if I’d stayed, maybe—”

“Maybe you’d have ended up in that ambulance too,” Oscar interrupted, stepping closer. He hesitated, then placed a hand on her shoulder. “You did what you had to do. For yourself. That doesn’t make you a bad person. It makes you human.”

The tears came then, silent and unrelenting. She leaned into his touch, and he wrapped his arms around her, holding her like she was something fragile and precious. She buried her face in his chest, her sobs muffled by the fabric of his jacket.

For a moment, Oscar allowed himself to close his eyes and just be there for her. It wasn’t enough—not for her, and not for him—but it was all he could offer.

When she finally pulled away, her face was blotchy, her eyes red-rimmed, but there was a flicker of determination in her expression.

“I need to go to the hospital,” she said, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands.

Oscar nodded. “I’ll take you.”

The drive to the hospital was quieter, the urgency replaced by a heavy solemnity. She stared out of the window, her mind miles away, while Oscar focused on the road.

When they arrived, the harsh fluorescent lights of the A&E waiting room made everything feel colder. She checked in with the nurse at the desk, explaining who she was there for, and was told to wait.

Minutes turned into hours, and still, they hadn’t heard anything. Oscar sat beside her, his knee bouncing impatiently. She sat perfectly still, staring at the floor, her hands clenched in her lap.

Finally, a doctor emerged, her expression neutral but kind. “Are you here for Lando?”

She shot to her feet. “Yes. How is he?”

The doctor glanced at the clipboard in her hands. “We’ve stabilised him. He was lucky you got to him when you did. Another half an hour, and we might have been having a very different conversation.”

Her knees nearly gave out, and Oscar steadied her with a hand on her arm. “Can I see him?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“He’s still unconscious,” the doctor said. “But you’re welcome to sit with him.”

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak, and followed the doctor down the stark, sterile corridor. Oscar stayed behind, giving her space.

Inside the room, Lando looked small against the backdrop of wires and monitors. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor was a stark reminder of how close he’d come to losing the fight. She sank into the chair beside his bed, her hands trembling as she reached out to brush a strand of hair from his face.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “I shouldn’t have left you.”

But as the words left her mouth, a small voice in the back of her mind whispered something else: You couldn’t have saved him alone.

She sat there for what felt like hours, holding his hand and staring at the fragile rise and fall of his chest. In the doorway, Oscar watched her silently, his face unreadable.

For her, it was a moment of reckoning. For Oscar, it was a moment of heartbreak.

The steady beep of the heart monitor filled the silence of the hospital room. She sat by Lando’s bedside, her hands trembling as they clutched his limp, lifeless one. He looked fragile under the harsh fluorescent light, a hollow shadow of the man he used to be.

She didn’t know how long she’d been there when his fingers twitched weakly in hers.

“Lando?” she whispered, leaning forward.

He stirred, his eyelids fluttering before slowly cracking open. His eyes were bloodshot, unfocused, but after a moment, they found her. Confusion flitted across his face, followed by something darker. Shame.

“You shouldn’t… be here,” he rasped, his voice thin and raw.

Her breath hitched. “Lando, don’t say that. I was terrified. I thought—” She swallowed hard. “I thought I’d lost you.”

A bitter laugh escaped him, jagged and broken. “Why do you care? You left, remember?” His words cut, even though his voice barely carried above a whisper.

Her lips parted, but she couldn’t find the words. She squeezed his hand instead, her own shaking. “I care because you called me. You called me, Lando. You could’ve called anyone else, but you didn’t.”

He looked away, his expression crumpling. “Should’ve called no one. Let it… end.”

“Don’t you dare,” she snapped, her voice cracking. “Don’t you dare say that. You don’t get to give up like that. Not when there are people who still care about you.”

Lando’s gaze drifted past her, to the doorway where Oscar leaned against the frame, arms crossed over his chest. His expression was unreadable, but there was a tension in his stance, a sharpness in his eyes.

Lando scoffed. “Even him? What, are you here for moral support, Oscar? Come to gloat?”

Oscar’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t rise to the bait. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m here for her, not you.”

The venom in Lando’s glare was palpable. “Course you are. That’s what you do, isn’t it? Sweep in like a knight in shining armour, acting like you’re better than everyone else.”

“I don’t have to act,” Oscar replied coolly.

“Stop it, both of you,” she snapped, looking between them. “This isn’t about whatever history you two have. Lando, you’re in a hospital bed because you nearly died. Oscar, I didn’t ask you to be here so you could fight with him. This is bigger than that.”

Lando’s gaze flicked back to her, and the defiance faded, replaced by something brittle. He closed his eyes, his chest rising and falling unsteadily. “I didn’t want you to see me like this,” he murmured. “I didn’t want anyone to.”

“Then stop putting yourself here,” she said, her voice breaking. “Lando, please. You have to get help. You can’t keep doing this.”

He didn’t respond, his face turned away. She felt her throat tighten, but she pushed on, her voice softer now. “I left because I couldn’t keep watching you destroy yourself. I didn’t want to, but I had to. For me. But that doesn’t mean I’ve stopped caring. And it doesn’t mean you can’t fix this.”

Lando turned his head slowly, his bloodshot eyes locking with hers. “What if I don’t know how?”

Her heart broke at the quiet, vulnerable question. She squeezed his hand, her tears falling freely now. “Then let someone help you. Let me help you. But you have to try, Lando. Promise me you’ll try.”

Lando’s lips quivered, and after a long moment, he nodded weakly. “I’ll try,” he whispered.

Behind her, Oscar exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. But when Lando’s gaze shifted back to him, the bitterness returned.

“Bet you’ve been waiting for this,” Lando muttered. “The great Oscar Piastri, saving the day again. Must feel nice, huh?”

Oscar stepped forward, his expression hardening. “This isn’t about you, Lando. It stopped being about you the day you threw it all away. The career. The friendship. The team. I stopped caring about you a long time ago. The only reason I’m here is her.”

Lando flinched, and she bristled, turning to Oscar. “That’s enough, Osc.”

But Oscar didn’t back down. “No, he needs to hear it. You’re not my responsibility, Lando. You never were. But you made her yours, and you dragged her down with you. That ends now.”

Lando’s face crumpled, his shoulders shaking as he pressed his hand over his eyes. The sound of his muffled sobs broke something inside her.

“Oscar, stop,” she said firmly, standing. She faced him, her eyes filled with anger and hurt. “I know you’re angry, but this isn’t the time.”

Oscar’s jaw worked, but he nodded curtly, stepping back. “Fine. I’ll be outside.” He walked out without another word.

When she turned back to Lando, his face was wet with tears. “He hates me,” Lando muttered.

She sat down again, taking his hand in hers. “Maybe he does. But I don’t. And that’s why I’m asking you to fight. Not for him. Not even for me. For you.”

Lando didn’t answer, but the faintest nod of his head gave her hope.

In the hallway, Oscar leaned against the wall, staring blankly at the floor. His heart ached with frustration and unspoken words. When she finally emerged, her face pale and drawn, he straightened.

“Is he—”

“He’ll be okay,” she said quietly. “He promised he’d try.”

Oscar nodded, his expression unreadable.

He didn't know how this was going to go, but he wasn't ready to mourn the loss of another friendship because of his old teammate's reckless decisions.

the end.

taglist: @waytooobsessedwithlife@iimplicitt

[soloroomies]

lifemate (Chapter 1/ Sakusa x f!reader)

summary: how did it all start? word count. 1.9k cw. marriage pact au, potential mature content a/n. this is my first time writing fic! hope you all enjoy this story! (♡ n pls let me know if you do enjoy them ♡) Masterlist

Every month, Motoya Komori, Sakusa Kiyoomi, and you meet up to catch up and enjoy each other's company. Surprisingly, despite the passage of time and the changes in your lives, you have managed to maintain your friendship well since high school. Your bond remains strong, bolstered by frequent chats in your group chat, where you exchange life updates.

Now you’re all in your late 20s, with you and Sakusa the same age, 27 years old, and Motoya a year older. Each of you is navigating your own unique path in life. Motoya Komori, always the cheerful one, shares his latest thoughts and plans. "Nothing much," he says with a grin, "just thinking about coaching some kids in my block." Then, he adds, "Mia thinks that’s a good idea too," his eyes light up when he talks about his wife, his smile widening. It's been a year since their wedding, and he’s never been happier. He met his wife during an open trip to Europe in his early 20s, a serendipitous encounter that changed his life forever.

Sakusa, on the other hand, often brings up his ongoing struggle with his fame. "I keep trying to decline gifts from fans," he admits, a hint of frustration in his voice. Despite his attempts to maintain some semblance of normalcy, his popularity often complicates things. 

It’s no wonder you think that Kiyoomi is popular among women. A single, talented man who looks dedicated to his career is bound to attract attention. People on the internet often compliment his looks too. Standing at 6’4” with a lean build, his black wavy hair adds to his appeal. You can imagine his struggle a bit—balancing his demanding career with the expectations and attention from fans and potential romantic interests alike.

As for you, you share your own challenges of juggling your main job with multiple side jobs. It’s a constant balancing act, trying to manage everything without letting anything fall through the cracks. Yet, despite the hectic schedule, you find solace in these monthly meet-ups, a reminder of the enduring friendship that has weathered the storms of life.

“Why do you have to do several jobs?” Komori asks, a hint of worry in his voice.

You chuckle lightly and start explaining the reality of life outside the athletic world. “Well, life actually works a bit differently for non-athletes,” you say with a smile, trying to lighten the mood. You go on to explain that you're still early in your career, and your current job is only a mid-paying one. “I need some more money to cover my living costs and to send some to my retiring parents,” you add, your tone growing more serious.

Komori listens intently, nodding in understanding. He realizes that while his career path as a professional athlete offers certain financial stability and perks, your situation requires juggling multiple jobs to make ends meet and support your family.

Komori agrees with your statement about the high living costs, even for him. You continue, “Well, now that I think about it, in this economy, for average people, I think marriage helps a lot in a financial way. I mean, by having two incomes in the household. If we didn’t put children into the equation, though, maybe.”

Komori agrees, “Well, maybe that’s true. But I don’t know much about that since my wife stays at home. But financials aside, having someone to come home to… I don’t know how to put it. But it’s less lonely and, y’know? Feels like someone always has my back no matter what.”

Sakusa interjects, “But you don’t have to get married, you know? You can just move in with your girlfriend.”

Komori shakes his head, “I don’t know, man. It’s a different sense of security.”

You chime in, “Ooh, I get it. Maybe it’s kinda like… all these paperwork you sign? So, it feels verrrry official?” You raise your eyebrow, prompting Komori to laugh.

“Maybe? I don’t know. I’m just happy and secure. That’s all I feel,” he says with a contented smile.

You sigh and slam your hand on the table, “Man, I don’t even think about that. I just think it’s nice to split rent and chores with someone.”

Komori hums at your statement, then turns to Sakusa. “What do you think, Omi?”

Sakusa shrugs, “I just think being married makes it more convenient for me to politely decline some of the persistent and creepy fans.”

You chuckle, “Ha. Ha. Okayyy starboy. Totally not relatable.”

Komori adds thoughtfully, “Hey, in a sense, that applies to you as well in terms of being more secure when walking at night. Ward off some creepy men, y’know?”

You nod, a wry smile on your face, “Hey! That’s so fucking true. Pfft, I hate the world that we live in.” You sip on your drink, finding a moment of solidarity in the shared laughter and understanding.

“Okay. Now this conversation made me want to get married. But I can’t even afford a relationship right now. Trying to start a relationship is too urgh,” you say, scrunching your nose. “Too many steps to deal with. And don’t even talk about the emotional roller coaster! It’s just too tiring!”

You used to be a hopeless romantic at heart, dreaming of the day you would meet that one person, your prince charming. Falling in love so hard that your head feels dizzy, experiencing all those cute butterflies in your stomach, and seeing the world through rose-tinted glasses due to the happiness of love.

However, the idea seems more and more impossible as you grow older. Reality has hit you hard. Maybe it’s just bad luck, but you’ve never been lucky in your romantic life. It’s not like no one wants you; there are men who approach you. But the ones who do either don’t meet your standards or turn out to be douchebags when you try to get to know them better and pursue more, leading to frustrating situationships. It’s exhausting to be attached to them and constantly ride an emotional roller coaster.

Moreover, you can’t think of anyone or any way to meet someone new at the moment. You’re not keen on the idea of dating apps either, as you feel like you’re not that fun in chat, and it just feels too unnatural to meet someone new that way. Especially a potential lover. Damn all these standards you’ve set for yourself!

Sakusa speaks up, “I get that, and I don’t understand what girls want either.” Sakusa doesn’t usually talk much during your discussions, but he enjoys listening to you and Komori's thoughts. Right now, he finds himself agreeing with you on the topic. Everyone knows that Sakusa isn’t the most socially adept person. He doesn’t easily make new friends, despite knowing many people from all the training, practices, and matches he has been involved in. However, he can't exactly call them friends. That's why he treasures this friend group, even though one of its members is literally his cousin. It’s something he can describe as “cousins by blood but friends by choice.”

Given this, it’s not hard to understand why it’s not easy for him to have a romantic relationship either. He can be attracted to someone—he experienced it several times during his school days, having little “relationships” that lasted only a few months. But these days, it’s getting harder to form meaningful connections. Lots of girls try to approach him, fans and acquaintances alike. Some have piqued his interest, but nothing has gone beyond a few dates. So, he truly gets it when you say it’s tiring.

“What?! So you don’t understand me?” you exclaim.

Sakusa rolls his eyes. “No, I understand you. It’s different. We’ve known each other since high school.”

“Ha. Right,” you reply with a hint of sarcasm.

Komori is silent, looking at both of you intently. He clears his throat, “Hey, you know, right? There’s something called platonic marriage?”

Sakusa stares blankly. “What’s that?”

“I know!” you chime in. “It’s like you’re married, but you’re not actually involved romantically.”

“Oh. I’ve heard of them. Interesting, I guess,” Sakusa responds.

“Yeah. It’s like you can get the marriage benefits without having to deal with all the emotional roller coasters that relationships give you,” you explain.

“True. But it’s too creepy and risky, right? To marry some random strangers?” Komori folds his arms and laughs.

You give a distasteful expression and respond quickly, “Of course! I wouldn’t dream of it. If I ever wanted to do a platonic marriage, it would be with someone that I know quite well.”

The three of you suddenly become silent. Komori smirks at you and Sakusa.

“What are you even implying?!” you demand.

“Hey! It’s not crazy, though! You mentioned it yourself.” He makes quotation marks with his fingers. “It would be with someone that I know quite well.”

You widen your eyes. He’s right, you think. But still, it’s borderline crazy and something that never crossed your mind. Sakusa? And you?! Sure, you think he looks good. But then again, you’ve never considered any of your friends ugly! Moreover, you’ve always seen him as your friend since the beginning. Which… is actually the definition of platonic. It’s perfect! Shit… But Sakusa would never agree with this kind of thing… right?

You steal glances at him. Fuck. He actually looks like he’s thinking about it. It’s not the usual indifferent face he’s making. He’s thinking. Wow. Years of friendship really do give you the ability to differentiate his micro-expressions.

“Look. It’s just… an idea. A good idea, can I say?” Komori wiggles his eyebrows and smiles proudly. “Given you guys’ predicaments. It’s like the stars aligned, y’know? I’ll definitely support you guys. There. You guys have my blessing,” he laughs.

You and Sakusa exchange quick glances. He shows a lack of repulsiveness. Now that you think about it, this thing actually fits him. But does he really think it is a good idea?

“Some friends do make marriage pacts or whatever it’s called,” Komori adds.

Oh, right. You definitely have heard about that. Something like if we’re not married by the age of… we should marry each other.

“Yeah, I think I’ve heard something like that. But isn’t it complicated?” you ask.

“What would be complicated? It’s all for convenience, right?” Komori replies.

“That’s just insane, though…” you mutter.

You all go silent for a bit but then you try to change the topic and continue to talk about other trivial life updates. Other things that aren’t awkward and, again, crazy to think about. Your mind isn’t ready to handle the full visualization, especially with Sakusa right in front of you.

After another hour, you and the other two decide to head home. You still have to work tomorrow, after all. Urgh, the work thoughts on Sunday are the worst. These meet-ups with Sakusa and Komori always prove to be very recharging to your mental battery. You’re so glad to have this monthly meet-up with your two precious friends.

On your way home, you replay the conversation you had earlier about the platonic marriage and can’t help but think of how good of an idea it is. The words “financial” and “someone to come home to” ring in your head. Shit. You do often feel lonely in your apartment nowadays.

If you ever agree to do something like a platonic marriage, the idea of being married to Omi doesn’t sound bad at all. Your very dear friend since high school. Someone you’ve known for more than 10 years. Someone who knows your antics and vice versa. He can be a pain in the ass a lot of times, insensitive at times. But the good thing is that you can be blunt with him. He might be an ass, but he does always listen whenever you scold him for anything insensitive he does.

But anyway, it’s just an idea. It will be forgotten, right?

Spoiler: No, it’s not.

[zhoras-bitch]

I wonder what's with HSR's weird selective allergy to geographical names. Like, you can figure out that since the squad went from Siberia to Oxford, and they never traveled by ship, it must've been the UK Oxford, and the train they took was clearly through the Channel Tunnel under La Manche. However, the words France, England, Europe, British Isles, La Manche or anything else are never mentioned even once. Even stranger, Lane can say her family is from North Carolina just fine. Is RC afraid the Americans in the audience will instantaneously combust upon the first hint that places outside of the US exist or.

[stormoflina]

I think the worst thing about what Macallister said is it sounds so manipulative. Like it's clearly vetted through and crafted in a certain way that it's meant for Liverpool fans/fans outside of Argentina. At first read it doesn't sound too bad, because he's not saying anything too controversial, there are hints of acknowledgment of the problem itself, but at the end it shines through so clearly that he (and/or the people who are behind the statement) don't think what happened is an issue at all. If anything, it left me with this feeling that there's annoyance in his tone that this is still being brought up, that this is somehow now associated with his teammate(s) and country and that he's only sorry that they got caught. It's gaslighting at its finest, claiming ignorance, trying to act like this is a first timer 'mistake', not even a mistake, more like misunderstanding, meanwhile trying to shift the blame at the oversensitive people in 'Europe', suggesting that it's only an overreaction. I almost think that this is somehow worse than if he just outright said "yeah, i don't care if you think this is racist, now shut up" or something like that, because at least there's honesty in his standings there, you can say that just plain wrong and you are protecting racist behaviour, but this really feels like something that was written with the hope of him being labelled as a mediator, a 'voice of reason'. I might be looking too deep into this, but this is what his words left me feeling. The total lack of acknowledgement or personal responsibility taken is astonishing.

[artistocrazy]

Okay so I’m just going off on a blorbo-specific tangeant because I just genuinely enjoy exploring this subject with Roderich.

This man’s entire political strategy during the empire’s rise to power was catering to the needs of whatever empire or kingdom he was married off to. He’s set to marry Spain? He makes it a point to learn Spanish court customs down to a T and has it drastically impact his personality.

But it worked, and he survived.

So obviously he was going to keep catering to his spouse’s needs and pride himself on being the ultimate trophy spouse. Were he only in existence nowadays, he would risk being a trad wife.

Controversial idea with Europe’s fanciest slut - he’s very insecure about meeting his own needs and taking agency. That’s not to say he doesn’t try to do it, but I find it so interesting that in circumstances where he very well could make a stink and stand his ground against doing risqué things for their own amusement, Roderich sometimes just… does it? Like.. stripping down naked to get a present for Erzsébet, as if it was the only way to negotiate? As if there were no other answers to this situation? And you can interpret his blush in these instances in multiple ways - frankly I’m torn between him being embarrassed at having to do these risqué things or possibly being embarrassed about enjoying it?

Even the way he shows affection isn’t exactly the boldest of approaches. The man gives gifts in secret and doesn’t appear to harbor affections for anyone outside of doing little things and acquiescing to their wishes.

In this token, I suspect it’s challenging for him to actually recognize and easily pursue what he wants, and it’s probably more challenging for him to let his hair down and break away from the polished aristocratic persona/let himself behave in any other way that even hints at him having his own wants and desires. If he deviates for a second from the image, he risks fainting from how worked up he had to have been to cross that threshold. (Throwback to the “Roderich gaslights people into thinking he never poops, despite having a washroom in his bedroom” hc).

But yeah, like I see this guy, who has prided himself on his ability to out-spouse everyone else, as the kind of man who will risk making a fool of himself if he at any point fears his partner thinks him inadequate on anything he believes they would find impressive or useful (but of course he tries to play it off casually, as if he’s had this skill for centuries). It’s almost that competitive deer instinct - like he HAS to outdo any competition for his partner’s affections. And it’s even worse, if he’s opened up to them enough to know his persona is a carefully constructed act. Like, if this partner has seen him do all of the weird stuff he still wants to do while he’s blushing beet red then he’s going to fight for them, if not to protect his own image from being tarnished.

[dailyanarchistposts]

May 13th: From Renault to the streets of Paris

Monday 13 May

6:15am, Avenue Yves Kermen. A clear, cloudless day. Crowds begin to gather outside the pates of the giant Renault works at Boulogne Billancourt. The main trade union ‘centrales’ (CGT, CFDT and FO) have called a one day general strike, They are protesting against police violence in the Latin Quarter and in support of long-neglected claims concerning wages, hours, the age of retirement and trade union rights in the plants.

The factory gales are wide open. Not a cop or supervisor in sight, The workers stream in. A loud hailer tells them to proceed to their respective shops, to refuse to start work and to proceed, at 8am, to their traditional meeting place, an enormous shed-like structure in the middle of the Ile Seguin (an island in the Seine entirely covered by parts of the Renault plant).

As each worker goes through the gated, the pickets give him a leaflet, jointly produced be the three unions.Leaflets in Spanish are also distributed (over 2000 Spanish workers are employed at Renault). French and Spanish orators succeed one another, in shod spells, at the microphone. Although all the unions are supporting the one-day strike, all the orators seem to belong to the CGT. it’s their loudspeaker...

6:45am, Hundreds of workers are now streaming in. Many look as if they had corpse to work rather than to participate in mass meetings at the plant. The decision to call the strike was only taken on the Saturday afternoon, after many of the men had already dispersed for the weekend. Many seem unaware of what it’s all about. l am struck by the number of Algerian and black workers. There are only’ a few posters at the gate, again mainly those of the CGT. Some pickets carry CF DT posters. There isn’t an FO poster in sight. The road and walls outside the factory have been well covered with slogans: ‘One day strike on Monday’; ‘Unity in defence of our claims” ‘NO to the monopolies’.

The little café near the gales is packed. People seem unusually wide awake and communicative for so early an hour, A newspaper kiosk is selling about three copies of l’Humanité for every copy of anything else. The local branch of the Communist Party is distributing a leaflet calling for ‘resolution, calm, vigilance and unity’ and warning against ‘provocateurs’.

The pickets make no attempt to argue with those pouring in. No-one seems to know whether they will obey the strike call or not. Less than 25% of Renault workers belong to any union at all. This is the biggest car factory in Europe. The loud hailer hammers home its message: The CRS have recently assaulted peasants at Quimper, and workers at Caen, Lyon and Dassault. Now they are turning on the students. The regime will not tolerate opposition. It will not modernize the country. It will not grant us our basic wage demands. Our one day strike will show both Government and employers our determination. We must compel them to retreat.” The message is repeated again and again, like a gramophone record. I wonder whether the speaker believes what he says, whether he even senses what lies ahead.

At 7am a dozen Trotskyists of the FER (Fédération des Etudiants Révolutionaires) turn up to sell their paper Revoltes. They wear large red and white buttons proclaiming their identity. A little later another group arrives to sell Voix Ouvriere. The loudspeaker immediately switches from an attack on the Gaullist government and its CRS to an attack on”‘provocateurs” and “disruptive elements, alien to the working class”. The Stalinist speaker hints that the sellers are in the pay of the government, As they are here, “the police must be lurking in the neighbourhood”. Heated arguments break out between sellers and CGT officials. The CFDT pickets are refused the use of the loudhailer. They shout “dèmocratie ouvriêre” and defend the right of the ‘disruptive elements’ to sell their stuff. A rather abstract right, as not a sheet is sold. The front page of Revoltes carries an esoteric article on Eastern Europe.

Much invective (but no blows) are exchanged. In the course of an argument I hear Bro. Trigon (delegate to the second electoral ‘college’ at Renault) describe Danny Cohn-Bandit as “un agent du pouvoir” (an agent of the authorities). A student takes him up on this point. The Trots don’t. Shortly before 8am they walk off, their ‘act of presence’ accomplished and duly recorded for history.

At about the same time, hundreds of workers who had entered the factory leave their shops and assemble in the sunshine in an open space a few hundred yards inside the main gate. From there they amble towards Ile Seguin, crossing one arm of the river Seine on the way. Other processions heave other points of the factory and converge on the same area. The metallic ceiling is nearly 200 feet above our heads, Enormous stocks of components are piled up high right and left. Far away to the right an assembly line is still working, lifting what looks like rear car seats, complete with attached springs, from the ground to first floor level.

Some 10,000 workers are soon assembled in the shed. The orators address them through a loudspeaker from a narrow platform some 40 feet up. The platform runs in front of what looks like an elevated inspection post but which I am told is a union office inside the factor. The CGT speaker deals with various sectional wage claims. He denounces the resistance of the government “in the hands of the monopolies”, He produces facts and figures dealing with the wage structure, Many highly skilled men are not getting enough. A CFDT speaker follows him. He deals with the steady speed-up, with the worsening of working conditions, with accidents and with the fate of man in production. “What kind of life is this? Are we always to remain puppets, carrying out every whim of the management?” He advocates uniform wage increases for all (‘augmentations non-hiérarchisées’), An FO speaker follows. He is technically the most competent, but says the least. In flowery rhetoric he talks of 1936, but omits all reference to Léon Blum. The record of FO is bad in the factory and the speaker is heckled from time to time, The CGT speakers then ask the workers to participate en masse in the big rally planned for that afternoon. As the last speaker finishes, the crowd spontaneously breaks out into a rousing ‘Internationale’, The older men seem to know most of the words. The younger workers only know the chorus. A friend nearby assures me that in 20 years this is the first time he has heard the song sung inside Renault (he has attended dozens of mass meetings in the lle Seguin). There is an atmosphere of excitement, particularly among the younger workers.

The crowd then breaks up into several sections. Some walk back over the bridge and out of the factory. Others proceed systematically through the shops where a few hundred blokes are still at work. Some of tees: men argue but most seem only too glad for an excuse to stop and join in the procession. Gangs weave their way, joking and singing, amid the giant presses and tanks. Those remaining at work are ironically cheered, clapped or exhaled to “step on it” or “work harder”. Occasional foremen look on helplessly, as One assembly line after another is brought to a halt.

Many of the lathes have coloured pictures plastered over them: pin-ups and green fields, sex and sunshine. Anyone still working is exhorted to get out into the daylight, not just to dream about it, in the main plant, over half a mile long, hardly 12 men remain in their overalls. Not an angry voice can be heard. There is much good humoured banter. By 1l am thousands of workers have poured out into the warmth of a morning in May. An open-air beer and sandwich stall, outside the gate, is doing a roaring trade.

[lumiereandcogsworth]

ALSO regarding Belle and Maurice, they live in that village, does that mean they were also technically cursed along with everyone else ? do they remember anything after the curse is broken, or did they move to the Villeneuve after and live somewhere else first?

based on my own headcanon and hints from different books from the movie and such, it’s more likely that maurice brought belle there right from paris when she was a baby. so she grew up there. (and that’s where all my beloved little belle fics take place 🥹)

i think that journey took a while, as paris is northern france and they’re in “the heart of france” which i guess is the center? though i still picture them more south than not. southern center… anyway it’s a multiple days’ distance from paris, to say the least. so they still would have stayed in different towns and inns along the way (if i think about how Depressed and Numb maurice was in that journey, i’ll lose my mind) but i think villeneuve WAS where he landed. it was also a tricky journey because the plague was,, happening. so some towns were also closed off to outsiders. it wasn’t easy to stay just anywhere. but eventually, villeneuve let the weary traveler and his baby in. and maurice was too scared and traumatized to ever leave again. plague seemed to sort of evade the village, and he took that as a sign that belle would be okay there, and safe, as he promised maria. which leads him to his mantra that he tells belle in the movie: “small also means safe.”

but to answer the first part, yes!! i mean technically, it seems as though the entire world (or at least all of europe) was under the curse. not a damn soul was sending letters or visiting the french monarch ??? they simply all forgot. my interpretation is that agathe just kind of put everyone in a blissful state about the topic. like, french citizens just never found a reason to wonder/think about their prince. (even though they were DEFINITELY thinking about him A Lot before the curse, lowkey freaking out about the fact that he wouldn’t marry and get an heir in the works.) but in this state they just didn’t worry about their governance. and of course, anyone related to any of the staff members had the same blissful minds. we know that it does leave an odd feeling though, as monsieur jean says at the beginning of the movie “i feel like i’ve forgotten something. problem is, i can’t remember what.” (the thing he forgot was his wife. and his son. sjdksjdk) so it’s not a Total blissful state, but obviously the memory never returns, and in general people don’t seem to be too distressed by the feeling of having “forgotten something.”

as far as maurice and belle are concerned, they’re living like the rest of the world, simply not worried about who’s in charge. Before the curse, i do like to wonder what maurice & belle’s opinion of “the prince” was though. they’d probably hear rumors that he was apparently selfish and maybe a bit reckless. villagers aren’t gonna know all the tea, but they are the LOCAL village, so they’ve definitely seen many a carriage come through, as well as probably heard the loud parties that would occur so frequently. belle probably didn’t pay it much attention, honestly. she was probably aware that prince adam was around her age, but when she heard of his awfulness she was probably just like >:/ imagine having all that power and just Squandering it! but maurice would point out that “well maybe he doesn’t know how else to be. i don’t recall his father being much better.” and belle says “what about the rest of his family?” and maurice shrugs “well, the queen died years ago. when he was a child. i think he’s the only one.” and belle just feels… a hint of sympathy for him. but only a hint, because ultimately it’s not like SHE could do anything to help him… RIGHT?

side note, but i have this old wip/scene/thing set when belle is around seven. and news spreads that the queen passed away. maurice is reading the news like 😟 and belle asks what’s wrong and he tells her and she’s like oh that’s so sad!!!!!!!🥺🥺🥺 and he says yeah:( and tells her that “the prince is just a little older than you. he’s probably quite sad to lose his mother.” and belle’s like “🥺🥺🥺 well he’s still got his papa, right?” and maurice is like [screams internally because stop this feels too real] and says “yes, he still has his papa 🥹” and they carry on with their day, never really thinking about the prince again (until he’s older and in the news more), and not having any idea how awful it is that the prince is now stuck with his father, of course🫠

BUT YEAH ANYWAY, after the curse, memories all come flooding back, and she is suddenly able to connect the dots. she thinks it’s crazy how she could be IN the castle, SEEING portraits of the late king and the current prince, and not recognizing them at all. and adam’s just like “yeah well. the enchantress really had her fun with this one:/“ lmao. and she literally did??? she’s so powerful. she made the whole world forget about a centuries old monarchy. you gotta hand it to her, she really goes all out for making assholes learn their lessons 😮‍💨

[sonadowwiki]

The Differences Between SEGA of Japan and SEGA of America/Europe (Part 4)

One of the main reasons as to why many English medias tend to portray the Sonic the Hedgehog characters very differently is due to them looking at only English medias, employees being hired even though they don't know anything about the Sonic the Hedgehog series (and since they don't know, they take from what they see from fans instead of asking an actual superior employee. So, if a fan says that Shadow is a certain way even though he isn't, they believe them), unprofessional employees putting their or fans' own desired interpretations on the characters, only asking English SEGA/Sonic Team USA on how to portray the characters (the ones who are said to have an agenda) or from looking at manipulated fan medias/sites like the Sonic Wiki Zone Fandom Wiki Site. This is one reason why English made content cannot be taken completely canon as they usually implement certain fan's views and conceptions into their medias and because they don't always consult the Japanese/SEGA Japan in their decisions. Some English made medias may say that they have worked with Sonic Team or that they talked with Sonic Team, but they show otherwise by making content that is very different than how the Japanese portray their medias. Or rather, it would be more accurate to say that they've only worked with Sonic Team USA who is said to have an agenda and often does things without permission and behind Japan's back. But the reason why they don't clarify this is because they want the audience to be tricked into believing that all of SEGA is on the same page in what is made or promoted.

Another main reason why English medias are so different is due to decisions being made by the lore team that was created with mostly English employees. This team has not been approved of by SEGA Japan and they are making decisions about the series based on their own perspectives or personal desires. You can see this with how different Sonic, Shadow, Knuckles, Silver and Amy are portrayed compared to past materials or Japanese content. There are even people on this team that are not affiliated with SEGA, meaning that they don't work for them. Yet even if that's the case, they apparently have a say in Sonic related projects, which is unprofessional since they are an outside voice that should not have a say in what a company does when they don't even work for them directly. This is not the only time they have shown to be unprofessional. This lore team has done a lot of Sonic related things that are not based off of the true lore, despite their team name. Taking a look at the past medias on the characters pointed out before can prove this. They also have members in this lore team that have lied to the audience and stolen art from an artist they later ghosted after promising to reply to the artist. This stolen art was even used in a game that they created without Japan SEGA's knowledge, which can be proven by how the new sprites, packaging art and 3D model (that was stolen) was all from English sources. In short, anything the lore team says or makes would be considered fake and "illegal" due to them doing these things without the permission from the parent company, SEGA Sammy. (To read more on this topic, read The Hidden Truth About SEGA and Observations page. Also take a look at the games to see the difference between medias from mostly English influenced things and past medias that were more influenced by the Japanese.)

Because of such differences between the English and Japanese medias, you can say that the medias they produce are of two completely different Sonics/worlds like mentioned before. It has also been hinted that what the English produce are part of a parallel world that is not part of the canon/main world. Such examples are Sonic Team's bio for Sonic on their website Sonic Channel and in Sonic Frontiers when Tails says that he saw another version of himself while trapped that was mad at him. (To read more about this, go to Observations.)

Vandalize Lyric Analysis

Vandalize

Sound the alarm Shatter me like glass Covered in scars But roses are coming through the cracks

Time that you killed You promised to help me rebuild It caught me off guard Sound the alarm

Said you'd keep me safe, now you're tearing me down Am I laid to waste, now that you're not around? Come and leave your mark Vandalize my heart

Fight the pain away, my head is in ruins Need you in my veins, don't know how you do it Come and leave your mark Vandalize my heart

Did we make a work of art just so you could deface it? Did you let it fall apart just so you could replace it? Had your name on the side of a burning bridge Watch it fade when the smoke rolls in

Time that you killed You promised to help me rebuild Feels like you planned it Took us for granted, oh

Said you'd keep me safe, now you're tearing me down Am I laid to waste, now that you're not around? Come and leave your mark Vandalize my heart

Fight the pain away, my head is in ruins Need you in my veins, don't know how you do it Come and leave your mark (come and leave your mark) Vandalize my heart

Oh, you're freaking crazy Hate me, love you, breaking bottles on the pavement Just to watch it crash

Said you'd keep me safe, now you're tearing me down Am I laid to waste, now that you're not around? Come and leave your mark Vandalize my heart

Fight the pain away, my head is in ruins Need you in my veins, don't know how you do it Come and leave your mark (come and leave your mark) Vandalize my heart

Said you'd keep me safe, now you're tearing me down Am I laid to waste, now that you're not around? Come and leave your mark (come and leave your mark) Vandalize my heart

If we take a closer look at certain lyrics, we can break down what the song means and what it is saying to those who have made the true company suffer for so long.

Shatter me like glass

Covered in scars

But roses are coming through the cracks

From these first few lyrics, we can see that someone broke the true company like glass, but from those broken pieces, they tried to put themselves back together. Though from those damages, scars remained and made them covered in scars. After that, they mention how even though they tried to fix things with scars as proof of that, the "Roses" still got through to them through cracks in the scars left from trying to fix things.

Time that you killed

You promised to help me rebuild

It caught me off guard

In these next lines, it talks about how the people, or person, wasted time and lied to the true company about wanting to help them. It also states that this threw them off guard because they trusted the individual, or individuals, who said that they would do what they can to help the true company.

Said you'd keep me safe, now you're tearing me down

Am I laid to waste, now that you're not around?

Come and leave your mark

Vandalize my heart

In the next lyrics, it continues on the thought of trusting the individuals who said that they would help the true company by saying that they said that they would keep them safe, but now they're trying to destroy them. Again, mentioning that they lied to them. It then questions that if they get rid of them, would that make things harder? But then the song states that it wants to see what these corrupt employees are like so that they can understand why they do the things they do. So they tell them to do what they want and hurt him. This can be seen as the true company gave a lot of leeway to the Americans in the creation of Sonic Frontiers.

Fight the pain away, my head is in ruins

Need you in my veins, don't know how you do it

Come and leave your mark

Vandalize my heart

Continuing on from the last lyrics, it states that the true company is trying to fight back the painful things the corrupt employees do and that it's making them in shambles. It also continues on with the last thought saying that they are letting the corrupt employees do their corruption in order to understand them.

Did we make a work of art just so you could deface it?

Did you let it fall apart just so you could replace it?

Had your name on the side of a burning bridge

Watch it fade when the smoke rolls in

In these lyrics, the true company is asking the corrupt employees and fans that if they made something just for them to desecrate, disrespect and deface it. This refers to any of their creations such as video games, stories, characters and so on. They continue to ask them if they let things get ruined so that they could replace him or replace their works with their own. One can take this as them saying that the corrupt people made their creations do poorly on purpose so that the corrupt employees can replace them with themselves; replace their works with their own. Examples of this is like having their "fans" say that Sonic Forces is horrible so that the English had more of a say in the next game, Sonic Frontiers. This can also apply to characters where the corrupt employees have the fans who are working with them say that certain characters are horrible while others are better in order to make an excuse for the corrupt employees to do certain actions since "fans are asking for it." The main example for this would be the "fans" saying that Shadow is a horrible character or is written horribly while saying that Amy Rose is a great character and should be around more. The corrupt employees can then come up with the excuse that Shadow should not be shown around more because "fans" complain about him, while on the other hand, they also say that Amy should be around more because "fans" demand for her. Therefore, in this case, "replace" would refer to replacing Shadow with Amy; to replacing Shadow content with Amy Rose content as well as Amy replacing Sonic as the mascot. It goes on to say that whoever is doing this has their name on a bridge that is burning. In the end, the name will burn away. This refers to the corrupt people doing actions that would cut the connections between the true company and the corrupt employees; that they're doing actions that would cut their relationship with each other. In the end, the corrupt employees are the ones who will disappear or lose.

Time that you killed

You promised to help me rebuild

Feels like you planned it

Took us for granted, oh

Some lyrics are repeated here, but the new lyrics say that the true company is saying that the corrupt people's actions feel like everything was planned. In the next lyric, is states that they were taken for granted by the corrupt people, therefore also confirming that they know that their actions were planned on purpose in order to bring them down. The true company believed in the corrupt people, but because they did, they ended up getting taken for granted by them. These lyrics are solidifying more that the true company knows that they were lied to and betrayed by the corrupt people who made them believe that they could trust them, until now.

Oh, you're freaking crazy

Hate me, love you, breaking bottles on the pavement

Just to watch it crash

These lyrics are then the true company speaking to the corrupt people. After knowing everything and how they are, they say that they are extremely crazy. They go on to say that the corrupt fans who work with them makes everyone hate him, but love the corrupt employees. They continue with saying that these corrupt people love chaos and to cause chaos just for their own personal benefit; that they cause chaos for no good reason. The only reason they do this, is for sick pleasure or sick benefits to themselves. The corrupt people make others suffer because they enjoy it and because they love being praised for it. That's why they manipulate the public opinion with their corrupt fans so that the corrupt employees are loved while the true company is hated unjustly.

The rest of the lyrics are repeated, but what we can get from this song is that the true company is very distressed and angry at those who planned their demise on purpose. They know who are the ones who are the cause and they are very angry at what they've done to them for years. They are very angry that they manipulated things to stunt his growth for years, just for their own pleasures and personal benefits. They're upset at being used by them and lied to by them. They trusted them, only to get betrayed in the worst way possible. And this was all done so that these corrupt employees can steal the company and series from them. Everything was fabricated against them to lead up to them taking everything from the true company. And now that they know this, they are not happy and are not going to just let it happen.

[immobiliter]

navia + how the spina di rosula operates

okay so this is a meta i wanted to write fairly early on and will become a cornerstone of my portrayal of Navia since she is the Spina and so many of her interactions will revolve around it. i mentioned before that the Spina is, in my opinion, a watered down version of the mafia/mob who, at least in the way that it is presented and led by Navia, wishes to do good ( for the most part ) and acts for the benefit of the ordinary citizens of Fontaine. unlike the mafia, it's an organisation that isn't explicitly criminalised or hunted down by the Maison Gardiennage as far as we know, but the Spina very much operates in the underworld of Fontainian society ( quite literally — the Fleuve Cendre is located beneath the Court of Fontaine, the symbol of Fontaine's opulence and splendor and seemingly huge wealth divide ).

there's also the name — whereas the majority ( though not all ) of the landmarks and areas in Fontaine take inspiration from the French language, Spina di Rosula doesn't look obviously French? it feels Italian ( though while spina translates to thorn in Italian, rosula doesn't mean rose in Italian. nor does it mean rose in French either lmao ), but google translate tells me it's Corsican, which is even more interesting since there was such a thing as the Corsican Mafia, who historically operated both within the French underworld and the Italian Mafia. Corsica also has its own regional language in addition to them being French speakers, which is interesting to me too — obviously hoyo has taken wider inspiration from Western Europe when it comes to Fontaine and therefore different countries are sprinkled in here and there with no obvious connection, but for the Spina quite literally by its etymology to exist in a space between French and Italian is definitely significant.

Navia claims that the Spina is funded by donations and I don't doubt this girl's word, but a common practice of Mafia groups were so-called "protection rackets", essentially guaranteeing businesses and people protection outside of the law in exchange for money. considering that the Spina controls the Fleuve Cendre and have their organisation logo visible and large above their "base of operations" ( the tavern area you meet Navia in during the AQ and see her in at the start of her demo — in her demo you literally see the Spina's symbol before anything else ) in order to signify the fact, I can absolutely see this as a method that the Spina uses. "voluntary" donations to ensure that businesses and individuals are protected from rival factions, since it's sort of hinted at in the AQ that control of the Fleuve Cendre was hard won by Callas, Navia's father, and we know that he had to partner with Marcel and the Confrerie of Cabriere in order to control Poisson. Marcel's organisation is called a "sister organisation" of the Spina, though I am sure there was a time early on in Callas's reign where they were bitter rivals — plus the Mafia does tend to adopt a familial model when it comes to ranks and alliances, so calling it sister is kinda appropriate. you also see in the latest event that a) despite growing up in the Fleuve Cendre, Chevreuse isn't necessarily welcome there considering that she is a part of the Maison Gardiennage, and b) that there are all kinds of unspoken rules she needs to follow in order to navigate the area.

I do think the Spina was much more ruthless and domineering under Callas. it's described in Navia's story quest as the Spina's golden age, and before you find out about Colter's animosity towards Navia, he makes a remark about the "eye for an eye" culture of Callas's Spina di Rosula. we also find out that Callas was "stiff as a board" according to Navia and used to be better at taking counsel from others until Clementine's death, when presumably his stance and willingness to listen to his subordinates hardened quite a bit. but Callas did also partner with both the Court of Fontaine and the Fontaine Research Institute on the Aquabus lines — something which caused a split within the Spina itself, and it's explained that he did this to forge alliances. I think it could also be true that Callas did this in order to gain tacit permission by these institutions, particularly the Palais de Mermonia, to operate without interference from law enforcement ( or at least for them to look the other way concerning some of the Spina's practices ). considering the fail safes that he put in place in order to protect Navia when he was wrongly accused of murder, I think Callas was an incredibly shrewd and ruthless businessman and knew that he needed connections in both the high and the low of Fontainian society.

it's possible he was also able to successfully hide the more shady sides of the Spina's business too: we know that the Maison Gardiennage basically has no jurisdiction over the Fleuve Cendre and leaves it alone for the most part ( which says something about the wealth disparity in Fontaine as a whole imo ). considering that the Spina does do a great deal of good for the ordinary Fontainian and is presumably well-liked by the general populace ( if not so much by the Palais Mermonia ), it would likely be more damaging for the Maison Gardiennage, for example, to attempt to dismantle it and face resistance from the common people than it is to just leave it alone.

considering that Callas's name and reputation were disgraced by being falsely accused, that could also explain why the Spina is struggling more under Navia — perhaps before Callas's murder charge, the powers in Fontaine were more willing to look the other way, whereas once his name was disgraced, it became easier to weaken or suppress the organisation's power and reach.

as far as what this actually means in terms of interacting with Navia and the Spina — unlike in Act 1 of the Fontaine AQ, where Navia literally rocks up outside the Opera Epiclese courtroom with Melus and Silver to offer Paimon and the Traveler help, professionally speaking it would actually be pretty tricky to get an audience with Navia herself since she is at the head of the Spina. personally would be a very different story since we know that Navia is something of a socialite and a celebrity and does have many well-connected friends in Fontaine, but in terms of business, Navia is heavily protected ( despite the number of attempts on her life let's not talk about that ) and it would not be easy to get to her if you're not already known to her or to the Spina.

[medicinemane]

God... the other day my grandma casually said just one of the most antisemitic things I've ever heard

Like she has dementia at this point but... it was a story she's told over and over for years, and this time she just said an extra opinion so it felt more like her losing a filter and saying what's been on her mind the whole time than the dementia rotting her brain

She was on the phone with my mom, and I was just walking by and ended up just gob smacked by it while my mom had to be like "uh... no... pretty fucking sure that's not actually true"

And part of me wants to share it cause it was just such a fucking wildly awful thing to say delivered so casually without a hint of realization of what she was getting at

...but also like... fuck man, I don't really think any Jews who happen to see this need more random antisemitism in their lives right now

Don't need to hear what an old lady with dementia said when there's plenty of shit being said all the time from all sides online

...I'm not Jewish, but a lot of my friends were growing up. All the Jewish people I've run into through out my life happened to be really cool (like I know there's shitty people in literally every group on the planet, but I never ran into them), so like... how to put it...

I'm not Jewish and I never will be (though if I was gonna convert to anything it would be Judaism, it resonates most on a lot of subjects), but like growing up my school celebrated Hanukkah along side Christmas... looking back I'm not gonna say I was surrounded by Jewish culture cause a lot of it was more surface level sharing than like some kind of deep integration, but I felt it and it was important to me and even if I didn't... mhh...

What I mean to say is more or less that while I may not have come away with a deep knowledge of Jewish culture and history and theology, while I may not have any real ties, it did have a profound effect on me

Guess what I really mean is there's no doubt I'm still an outsider, but honestly the Jews I knew were one of the few actually good parts of my childhood

So seeing all this antisemitism, it eats at me. It doesn't effect me directly, but it eats at me

Still to this day the Jews I happen to have run into over the years on here are some of the people I like best... so it fucking gets to me man, seeing how bad shit has been for some time, but especially how bad it's gotten lately

Like I want to be clear, this shit isn't about me... but it's not good...

...anyway, had the stuff my grandma said brewing in the back of my head and I suppose it turned into this post... tell you what, I'll put it under a cut so you can see it if you want, but so you don't have to

So she grew up in... think it's Middletown NY, and she says that every summer Jews would pass through on the way to go holiday, and she's fixated on this time that this family let their little boy out and had him just take a piss on the sidewalk before they drove off (which to me is rich people treating others like shit, not a damn thing to do with any other trait about them... not that different than when people were devastating small towns during the pandemic)

Anyway, can't say exactly what she said cause kinda went into shock as I heard it and I just sort of left cause I was just going what the fuck about it, but it was something along the lines of

"Well, if they behaved like that in Europe, entitled like that, I guess I can see why they didn't want them", and it was said so damn causally, as if that's not... probably... no definitely the single most antisemitic thing I've heard first hand

Like holy shit... and yet she's also complained about the rise in antisemitism cause "she lived through it the last time", and it's just like fuck me mate

...no one thinks they're antisemitic, they just have this or that "small" probably with a "specific" thing or group of Jews... but then you hear it and it's just like holy hell there's not a huge jump from what you said old lady to... condoning a whole lot of bad shit

A bold stance from me that trying to drive a group of people out of your country is bad, and that perhaps all Jews aren't this "entitled" and that even if they were that doesn't justify trying to drive them from Europe

...her brain's uh... listen, I'm messed up and often feel like naming a thing can bring it about even though I know that's not true, so I won't say much about her condition but I'll just say that getting even simple information through to her these days is often hard, so explaining my actual thoughts on this to her... I don't think it would take

It's just chilling though how normalized this has become... and like I said, I don't think this is new, I think she was thinking it every time she told that story, it's just this is the first time her filter was gone enough to finish the thought

...really really wish I could do more... I reblog some stuff, but a lot of the really good stuff... it's long, and I know how people's attention is these days so I... I only share a fraction of the stuff

But this fucking sucks man... not as a Jew, as an outsider who just happens to always get along with all the Jewish people I've ever bumped into in this world

Like it's literally just people trying to exist, normal ass people, and we can't stop making up conspiracies

...it's bad shit (also sorry, my insomnia's hitting hard right now so I feel like I'm sounding real stupid while talking about something I want to have a lot of tact with cause it's really important)

[help-help-i-need-an-adult]

Yeah. Saint Nicholas is who they mixed Odin with to get Santa.

I grew up with my very German Lutheran Christian mom making sure I knew “Santa is real, he just was a monk named Nicholas and died in 343 AD and he used to leave money in girl’s shoes so they could afford to get married.” I woke up every December 6th excited for Saint Nicholas day and the candy in my shoes and hoping there weren’t too many switches. I’m very aware.

I even know the Saint Nicholas story about him reviving the pickled boys (one of the miracles that made him a saint) and I wasn’t raised Catholic, but the German Christian heritage I grew up in demanded I knew this.

And according to that same mom, we made him into “Santa” because it was “fun”. She also never studied mythology outside of Christian Mythology. (It’s mythology by the very definition of the word.)

But I did. And I found some people who still practice those religions. And I learned some stuff.

Guess who had a flying sleigh and would travel the world on the longest coldest night of the year protecting Midgard from frost giants? Guess what Norse Pagans did with family for comfort while they stayed inside where it was safe from the battle being fought by their gods and the giants that night?

You don’t get Santa Claus without Odin.

Christians stole and twisted pagan traditions to help genoci… “convert” pagans. Do you know why you kiss under mistletoe at Christmas? I’ll give you a hint. It’s about Norse Paganism. What the fuck do bunnies and eggs (sex/fertility symbols) have to do with the ritual sacrifice of a demigod? Not a damn thing, but better tell the heathens it does so they’ll stop running naked in the woods and fucking to make plants grow.

I wouldn’t be shocked if Saint Nicholas is just as offended by the hybrid morphing as Odin.

How DARE they make him a pagan god’s mask? Was he not good and magical enough as a fucking saint? Driving a magical sleigh of fucking reindeer? How about the BOAT he saved from a STORM because he could perform MIRACLES?

Toys? He wanted the poor girls of his village to have a future! (And isn’t it sad that “marriage” was the best future he could think of, but that’s pre-middle ages Christian Europe.)

But guess what else my German Christian mom insisted I knew? That the Christians “adopted” these traditions on purpose to “save more souls.”

“Oh no, you’re actually already Christian because we do that too. You’re just confused. Come, learn about how decorating your house with a tree is about the birth of Jesus.”

Same woman who didn’t bother to learn anything about the pagan traditions she was practicing insisted it was ok because they were Christian now, and they were fun, and practicing them was harmless. After all, it had “saved souls” and taught heathens “the truth”.

Not the only genocide that was committed in the name of “saving souls” she defends and paints over with white. She’d never call it genocide. You’ll never hear them call it genocide, but that’s what it was.

“They were heretics” or “they were pagans” seems to be valid enough reason to her as it was to the church back when they whipped out people who followed Arius. They were killed off for believing some of the same things that Unitarians and Jehovah’s Witnesses believe in today.

Killing them off would be a blatant crime today, but it was fine back when they wrote the Nicene and Apostles Creeds? Sure, Janet. (Somehow mission trips are ok, though. Probably because it’s less murder and more “convince them they’re wrong or already Christian and just don’t know it, or just the wrong kind of Christian and that’s why their in poverty but our right kid of Christianity can save them”. It’s same shit, different century.)

The creation of “Santa” was just another method. Just another way of erasing one culture to replace it with another. “Santa is just Saint Nicholas made more fun for kids” is the white washed explanation told by the victors. It’s washing the blood from their hands.

I grew up with Christian’s blatantly admitting to the past and current crimes. I just connected the dots and saw what they hoped their nice words wouldn’t let me see. What many of them do not see because they were told not to see it.

So maybe Saint Nicholas would be fine with the morphing because “it saves souls” or whatever. But miracles or not, I’d pay money to fight him over it, and I’d come armed with a battle axe.

Make Santa Odin Again.

As we enter the Christian holiday season, just your friendly reminder that "non-Christian character discovers the magic of Christmas" is not a trope you should be writing for a holiday themed fic. Cut that shit out.

[alsjeblieft-zeg]

270 of 2023

The Colors of the Rainbow

Created by joybucket

Red When was the last time you were angry, and why?

Probably from the morning today, because I was in hurry to work.

When was the last time you ate strawberries?

A few days ago, the Dutch ones from Albert Heijn.

Did you have a valentine last Valentine's Day?

Yeah, my husband.

Have you ever ran a stop sign?

I don’t drive.

Are you bold?

Some say I am. But let the others decide.

Orange Do you burn with passion? What's your passion?

Yeah, I’m very passionate about photography and travels.

When was the last time you ate carrots?

Yesterday, in a soup.

Do you own a shirt that's orange?

I don’t think so. I have almost all colours, but not this one.

Do you celebrate Halloween?

No, I don’t.

Do you like candy corn?

I don’t even know what it is, honestly.

Yellow Are you a generally happy person?

I al, even though life is hard sometimres. There’s a huge will to live in me.

Do you like to lay in the sun?

I do, but I prefer being active, especially at the beach.

When was the last time you ate a banana?

I don’t like bananas.

Do you like to drink lemonade in the summer?

I’m afraid lemonade means something entirely different in America than in Europe.

Would you ever plant sunflowers?

We used to have sunflowers in the garden when I was a kid.

Green Is there someone you envy right now?

No, I don’t envy anyone.

Do you have good luck?

I do. I must have multiple lives like a cat.

Have you ever found a four-leaf clover?

Yes, more than once.

What was the last green thing you ate?

Broccoli.

Are you part Irish?

Not that I know of.

Blue Are you a romantic?

Not at all, I think I’m in the aromantic spectrum.

Do you like to swim?

I’ve never learned to swim, even though I was born and raised at the sea.

Are you an easygoing person?

Some people say so.

Do you own a blue shirt?

Yes, a few t-shirts.

Do you like to stare at the sky?

I do, but not when it’s too bright outside because it hurts my eyes.

Indigo Do you what color indigo really is?

I don’t see any difference between this and blue, for me it’s just a shade of blue.

Do you like blue jeans?

Yes, but I prefer light blue ones. Like, washed.

Would people describe you as warm or cold?

It depends on a person. Some say I’m very warm, some say I give off the cold vibe.

When was the last time you ate grapes?

Yesterday.

Are you an oddball?

Definitely.

Violet Do you see yourself as royalty?

No, everyone is equal to me.

Do you own a purple shirt?

I’m not sure, probably I do.

When was the last time you ate blueberries?

Last week.

Are you an intuitive person?

Somewhat. I better trust it more.

Are you a peaceful person?

Most of the time.

And some bonus categories....Pink Are you girly?

Not at all, I’m just a stereotypical dude in some way.

Would you ever own a poodle?

Not a big fan of dogs.

Do you like the color pink?

Not in particular. But I don’t hate it either.

Have you ever dyed your hair pink?

Yeah, I have.

Is there anything pink in your room?

One of my calendars is light pink.

And some more questions... What's your favorite color?

Black and green.

What's your favorite color combination?

Black and neon green, black and purple, black and hot pink, surprisingly.

What's your least favorite color?

Brown. So boring.

What are your favorite colors to wear?

Black or white, with a hint of another colour.

What colors are your bedroom?

Green, blue and white. All bright.

What color are your nails right now?

The colour of nails lol. I don’t see the point of painting my nails.

What color is your car?

Black.

What color are your eyes?

Grey.

What color is your hair?

Brown.

What color is your phone?

Light blue, and metallic.

What color is your laptop?

Black, but with lots of stickers.

Rainbow Do you support gay pride?

Well, I’m gay myself, and I’m with them forever, and I will always support people of different sexualities and gender identities. But I don’t really identify with the LGBT+ movement because I’m neiother proud nor ashamed of who I am. Sometimes ythings just happen, it’s not like my orientation was a choice.

Do you feel free?

I do. Even my disorders don’t restrict me; I always come back to the game.

Are you free?

I live in a free country, so yeah, I am. I can express myself freely.

When was the last time you saw a rainbow?

Two months ago, I think. But it was short and faint.

Have you ever seen a double rainbow?

Yeah, I have. But it’s been years ago.

Have you ever seen a full rainbow?

Yes, but it’s been more than a few years.

And lastly... What's your best friend's favorite color?

Red, definitely. And black to wear.

What colors do you like?

Except my favourite ones, I like red and purple, too. And blue.

What colors do you dislike?

Brown, and I’m not a big fan of yellow and orange.

What color is the shirt you are wearing?

I’m wearing a hoodie, as usual.

What colors look good on you?

I couldn’t care less.

What colors don't you look good in?

I couldn’t care less either.

What color was your senior prom dress?

I know everything’s acceptable these days and I’m tolerant and accepting as well, but I cazn’t see myself wearing a dress as a guy.

[khalixascorner]

Foundations Pt 1

Summary: After agreeing to let Tony take care of him, they have to establish the foundations of this strange new dynamic. Peter stumbles a bit along the way, but Tony's there to catch him. Part 2 of the Priorities Series.

Tags: Slow Burn, Like so slow it's glacial, Still technically pre slash here, Platonic BDSM, for now, Dom Tony Stark, Sub Peter Parker, Friday and Karen gossip

Read on AO3

It was child’s play to find the evidence he needed to disgrace the Osborn heir. A few clear photos of the underage heir drinking and doing lines off of his latest fuck of the week and he was out. Jetted off to somewhere in Eastern Europe where they wouldn’t look down on him for that behavior while the American media had its day with his reputation. 

Meanwhile, Tony was outside of Peter’s apartment. As he waited for the younger man to come down, his mind was already planning upgrades and new safety measures if Peter still meant what he said. Tony was starting to get impatient when Peter came rushing out the door, his hair still slightly damp but dressed in the charcoal slacks and deep blue shirt he had sent. It was the first test because Tony had also included shoes, socks, and underwear with a note for Peter to wear them. 

“Sorry for making you wait, sir,” Peter gasped as he slid into the passenger seat. “I was trying to work ahead on some homework and lost track of time.”

Tony waved it off, willing to let it slide this once since Peter wasn’t officially his. 

“How were classes this week?” Tony asked instead, pulling the car out to head to the restaurant.

“It was crazy busy,” Peter replied with a sigh. “We’re not quite to finals yet but everyone is already starting to ramp up for it.”

“Anything in particular giving you problems?” Tony asked, glancing over. 

“Not really,” Peter said, waving off the concern. “It’s just a lot of final projects, papers, and extra assignments that the teachers want turned in early.”

“Nothing you can’t handle then,” Tony agreed. 

-----------------------

Tony kept the conversation light as they drove, and Peter found himself relaxing in the older man’s presence. It had been so long since he’d been around his mentor that he had almost forgotten how nice it was when things had been good. Had stored it away in his memories but couldn’t help but wonder how much was fabricated versus real. 

The restaurant was nicer than anything Peter had gone to in recent memory. It was also louder. Voices rose and fell in a discordant symphony that made him flinch. Silverware clinked against fine porcelain dishware with the occasional clatter of a busboy hard at work. 

Peter tried to take a deep breath, hoping to bring it under control, only to be swept under an aromatic assault. Notes of citrus and vinegar from a nearby table’s salad burned his nose, only to be covered up when a waiter walked by with a seafood dish that turned Peter’s stomach. He tried turning away from it, only to get a nose full of a woman’s overbearing perfume as she handed off her coat to the maitre d’. 

His eyes watered, and Peter could only be distantly embarrassed as a complete overload threatened to literally bring him to his knees. He hadn’t even realized he had closed his eyes until they shot open in surprise when a warm weight settled on his back between his shoulders. 

“This way, Pete.”

Tony’s voice was like a beacon to orient himself by, and the heavy weight of his hand was an anchor to his body, grounding him against the external stimuli. With a bit of effort, he could pick out the faint hint of Tony’s cologne and the background smell of coffee and metal that always clung to the man. 

His focus narrowed until only that spot of warmth, familiar scent, and low baritone mattered. Everything else was muted and ignored so completely that Peter didn’t even realize when it all disappeared. 

“-te, Pete? Take a deep breath now,” Tony’s voice rumbled in his ears, and just as always, Peter couldn’t help but obey. “That’s it, in and out. Nice and easy.”

Ever so slowly, his senses returned. Hearing was first, with Tony’s soft commands to breathe and the steady beats of their hearts filling his ears. He basked in it, tension falling away and his shoulders dropping as the anticipated pain never came. 

As if the movement triggered it, his sense of touch came back next. Awareness spread from Tony’s hand on his back to the one now holding his wrist. From that second point of warmth, he felt a third, underneath his palm. Smooth fabric with buttons rose and fell beneath his hand, while a rhythmic thumping pounded away steadily. 

Touching the fabric, realizing it was Tony’s shirt, helped his brain remember what clothes were. Suddenly, he was very grateful that Tony had provided the entire outfit because instead of rough cheap blends, all his skin felt were soft smooth cottons and silks. 

He let himself relax further, still not opening his eyes but daring to take deep breaths. Tony’s scent was safe and familiar, flushing out the memory of the others, and finally giving Peter the courage to open his eyes. 

“There we go,” Tony murmured as their eyes met. “I was getting a bit worried there, kid.”

“S’rr- s’r,” Peter mumbled, still not quite up to talking coherently as his system finished its reboot. 

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Tony said quietly. “I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say you haven’t had that happen before just from going to a restaurant.”

Peter shook his head, eyes fluttering when the room seemed to spin. 

“Alright, spider kid, let's get you sitting down and some water I think,” Tony said, slipping his arms more firmly around Peter as he guided him to a seat. Thankfully, it was a booth and he could rest against the wall as Tony stepped away to speak with someone at the door. 

Peter drifted in and out while he waited for his mentor to return. His limbs felt like lead and it was a losing battle to keep his eyes open for more than a second. 

“Drink,” Tony commanded even as a cool glass was pressed to his lips. 

Peter started with a sip, only to realize his mouth felt as dry as a desert. Tony didn’t let him gulp it down, but it was a close thing. The drink wasn’t water, Peter realized only halfway through the glass but instead was lightly flavored lemonade. The sugar seemed to perk him up, and by the end of the glass, there was only a little residual shakiness left. 

“Better?”

“Much, thank you,” Peter replied, unable to fight the flush of embarrassment.

“None of that, kid,” Tony said with a wave. “Everyone’s got weird quirks from their super powers. It’s a thing, so don’t feel bad.”

“Even you, sir?” Peter asked in a moment of braveness. Tony looked at him, gaze heavy for a long moment before replying. 

“I compulsively upgrade the suits because there’s always the next bad guy, the next random power that could get used against us,” Tony said softly. “My brain can’t help but try to quantify the threat and pre-make at least 3 potential solutions. Not quite as fancy as weird metabolisms or allergies from super soldier serums, but it is what it is.”

“Oh, ah- thank you. For telling me,” Peter said, suddenly feeling shy. “I, ah, it's more than just the metabolism but yeah. Lots of weird quirks from mine. Guess that’s the trade off from my powers coming from a spider instead of a bottle in a lab.”

“Nothing we can’t work around with a little bit of applied brain power,” Tony said confidently, leaning back against the booth. “Now, I ordered a wide variety of relatively easy to eat foods that aren’t too pungent and they’ll all be brought out in individual courses with palette cleansers in between just to be on the safe side. Eat as much as you like, but don’t feel obligated to finish anything you don’t. This is just a chance to get a feel for what you like.”

Tony said the whole thing so casually and yet, Peter still felt blindsided by the thoughtfulness and also willingness to put others out. Surely that would drag their dinner on extra long, and rooms like these were probably in high demand. Yet, Tony didn’t seem to care in the least. Peter wanted to argue, to say it wasn’t necessary, but the hint of challenge he could see in Tony’s gaze deterred him. 

“Thank you,” was all he said instead. 

Tony’s pleased smile brought a small one to Peter’s face as a warm feeling bubbled in his chest. Making Tony happy and proud had always made Peter feel happy as well, and it seemed like years apart hadn’t changed that. 

“Not a problem, Pete,” Tony said warmly. “I take care of what’s mine.”

Peter shivered and just nodded, eyes dropping to the table. 

---------------------

Tony wanted to say more but their first course arrived before he could open his mouth. He bit back a sigh, knowing that Peter needed more than just lemonade to help him bounce back from the strange reaction to the restaurant. Tony hadn’t seen one of the kid’s overloads in years but they seemed worse than ever if that one was any indication. 

He held his peace though, as course after course came out. At first, Peter seemed unsure about trying the food that had set his senses off just a short while ago. However, the time to relax had done the younger man good, and after a few bites, he was digging in with gusto. There were one or two he seemed to like less, and Tony had Friday make a note of it for the future, but otherwise, he kept the light conversation going, eating a few bites occasionally after Peter had commented that it was weird to be eating alone. 

Tony didn’t fight the satisfied feeling of seeing Peter taken care of properly. He was dressed in the clothes Tony had picked for him, eating the food Tony ordered, and all around looking happier than when he had seen him just a few days ago. And Tony hadn’t even gotten to his true gift for the night.

Only after a large dessert spread was laid out before them did Tony finally bring his phone out.

“So, I had one more gift for you tonight,” he said, activating the holo function as Friday brought up headline after headline. “I told you earlier that I wanted you to really think about it before saying yes to me. To understand the lengths I would go to. And well, I think this makes a pretty good sampling.”

Tony watched as Peter read the headlines, eyes going wide and they flicked from Tony to the holos and back to Tony again.

“He-he’s really gone?” Peter asked, his voice almost fragile.

“Yeah, he’s gone. Because I’m not gonna leave someone around that could hurt you when I’m not there to protect you,” Tony said. “You didn’t want to involve campus security or the cops so the issue’s been resolved without your name being involved at all.”

“How- it’s only been three days- that’s, it shouldn’t be possible,” Peter said, his voice an awed whisper. 

Tony wasn’t expecting quite that response, but he wasn’t going to complain about it either. He was trying to be fair, trying to ensure Peter knew what he was getting into, but he also knew what he wanted and exactly how to get it.

“I told you that I take care of what’s mine, Peter,” Tony said solemnly. “So now the question is, are you going to let me take care of things? Of you?”

----------------------

Peter’s heart was pounding in his chest like when he squared off against the villain of the week. He felt like he was about to launch himself off the top of a building without checking that his web shooters were full. A leap of faith. Faith that Tony would catch him. That the older man meant what he said and would follow through on it. Life had beaten Peter down again and again, had taken everything from him that mattered, but maybe that made this easier because he had nothing to lose.

Peter took a deep breath and looked Tony straight on, unflinching despite his trembling hands that he hid beneath the table.

“Yes, sir.”

[soft-boi-eli]

Helloo! Could I ask for cc!SBI x GN! Streamer Reader during TwitchCon (I'm not from the US nor Europe so I probs won't be able to go next year, but at least the thought of it seems nice)? Thanks, and remember to stay hydrated! <3

Yes. And I will keep hydrated. Sorry if it take a bit I want it to be as good as possible.

Pronouns:nonbinary

Tw: cussing, mentions of anxiety

Not proofread.

Why is there a tag limit of 30?

Best friends are family.

The flight over was he'll. Leaving you tired and jet lagged as you wandered the air port.

You were to meet up with four people. As you had been a part of a huge server with them.

Not only did you guys play minecraft together. You had streams where you just talk, anwser questions, play little games with them. Even just had one of your guys just talking to the other person while they streamed. It was the only relationship you had. They were your family. Well best friends.

But that doesn't matter right?

When you finally locked eyes with this brown haired guy, glasses, quite tall, looked quite like one of your four friends you immediately froze.

This was real. They weren't fake.

"Techno?" It was quite and was nearly drowned out by the sounds of the air port.

But the brunette looked your way. Eyes widening slightly as he had seen your face on face time before. You two were faceless streamers. Or nearly faceless. Only really showing your faces on huge achievements or to people you know. So most people didn't know what you looked like.

"(Y/n)?" Nodding to him you smiled under your mask.

He had a smile in his eyes as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder. "Let's get out of this crowd. Phil took tommy and wilbur outside since they had a long flight." you both weaved through people. "Understandable. I mean look how many people exsit here." You spoke.

With a chuckle he lead you to the exit. The two blondes and one brunette stood near the door, obviously kind of relived from being out of the crowd.

"Look who I found." Technos voice brought the other three to look in your direction. "Hey! (Y/n) have a nice flight mate?" Phil's question was heartfilled but honestly you didn't want to think of the horrid experience.

"Not too bad not too good. Hopped on the soonest plane. And dear God it was hell." It was obvious by your tone that you didn't want to speak about it. So they were quick to shift the subject.

"So the b&b you're staying at? Where is it?" You looked at tommy confused. Didn't he know that you all are going to the same b&b?

"Same one as us tommy. Did you even listen to us on the flight?" Wilbur spoke up before you could deliver your sarcastic comment.

"Really? Didn't expect that." Tommy seemed confuses. Rolling your eyes at the teen you spoke. "Ah yes let's send one of the most socially awkward people out to rent a room in a b&b alone. How smart." Getting the hint tommy chuckled at the sarcastic comment.

"Oh yeah. I forgot that you had that bad of anxiety." Looking back to him with a 'bitch really?' Look he laughed. "You forgot I had crippling anxiety. It took what? 5 months before I started to fully talk to all of you? It was literally just you guys talking to me until one day out of the blue I started talking back." As you spoke you guys got to technos car.

As techno had driven here he was the one that was driving you the the b&b. No need for rental cars.

"So, (y/n), Phil, tommy, wilbur. Have do you guys wanna pick up some food first? Or nah?" Techno was quick to ask. And having a hungry teen in the car it was automatically a yes.

The day flew by. Jokes were told, food was eaten. And naps were quick to happen.

But that all came to a hard stop. TwitchCon. You weren't on the main panel like most of the others. Having been just added and just climbing up. But you did have your own meet and greet station.

And that was enough to pick at your anxiety.

But you decided to breathe through it. Hoping to get through this and live another day.

What helped was the fact that not many people came up to you. Having no idea if you were the real one. But when you got to your booth hell rang loose. You were now confirmed to be the real you and people wanted autographs, photos, videos, little trinkets you ended up selling.

It was not as bad as you thought. Not many people pushing past your boundires.

"Omg it's (t/n)! (Twitch name) they are so cool can I go say hi!" The younger child was quick to rush up to you as their parents nodded.

"HI! I wanted to say i love you and your content! I was wondering if I could get an autograph. Also how do you do it? How do you look so genderless!" This child was going miles a minute and honestly it was one of the sweetest things. "Well it takes years of work and finding what's best. here's your autograph. Would you like a photo?" They nodded so fast it was almost like their head was going to fall off.

Laughing lightly you wrapped an arm around their shoulder and they wrapped theirs around yours.

Their parents were quick to snap a photo and call their child back to them. Not wanting to take up too much of your time.

And to you luck the four boys you were waiting for had arrived. Relife.

You smiled and waved them over. "(Y/n). You seem happy." Technos voice was calm.

"Just a very kind and energetic fan. It was nice too see someone like them." You looked in the direction of the kid. Noticing something you hadn't before. They were bald. Looked kind of sickly. And seemed kind of off. Excusing yourself you grabbed something from under your table. One of the many stuffed animals you had onder there with a embroidered signature from you. It was a little stuffed snow leopard.

Rushing to find the child you tapped their shoulder. Turning around they seemed confused. "(T/n)? What are you doing over here shouldn't you be over near your stand?" You smiled under your mask.

"You seem to be going through something and I wanted to make sure one of my number one fans had something special to make them feel better. Here you go. My channels mascot with an embroidered signature so you will always remember to fight on Cub." Your followers are known as your Cubs. And this one was a special one. They made your day.

Now it wastime for you to make their day.

With gentle hands they took the plush to their chest tears in their eyes. They latched onto you as they cried softly. Rubbing their back you saw the parents tearing up. Their mother pulled her mask down mouthing thank you then pulling it back up quickly.

Nodding gently you hug the child lightly. Letting go slowly you look at them. "I belive in you. So you take these words. Fight on. Never give up. You are one of the strongest people I have seen alright? You're gonna make it through this no matter what." Patting their head you smiled as they nodded.

There was a new spark in their eye.

This powerful Cub. Phil and the other came up behind you. "Hey there mate. Having a good time?" The child seemed so happy.

This is what you guys were here for. To see these joyful expressions. To make your fans happy. To give them some kind of escape.

There was no way you'd let anything get between you and your fans. No matter what.

I needed wholesome.

So I apologize for this taking so long but I was stressed about other things and that caused a chain reaction in my life. But next week I should start school so that's a plus.

Also when I do start school again imma be working slower. And I do apologize about that.

I'll try my best to get more of these out. So E.

Anyways hoped you enjoyed.

-Eli out!!

[kimyoonmiauthor]

I have the benefit of anthropology degree, food geekery, cooking skill enough to make kimchi and soy sauce from scratch. TT So hard. I'm currently trying to make yellow corvina fish sauce from scratch. And I've done the wrong ways to do recipes on purpose to figure out why the "right way" was engineered as the way it does pretty much from Middle school-ish. I also invent recipes.

I also garden and know what farm to table to farm again roughly looks like. And also the philosophy of nothing goes to waste. (Permaculture, intercropping, Chaos gardening. Done them. I know what works and doesn't.)

You do not need a fancy magic system for this. All you need is the techniques that people have done for a thousand or so years from these temperate regions:

Take my hints in the doc:

Greenhouses

this one is a bit tricky. Glass and metal can be expensive in a pre-industrial society. Even in an early industrial one. Look up pineapple in Europe and probably regency. Clear glass is hard to make. And there are special pests that come with greenhouses. You know this if you garden.

Preserved meats in the dead of winter.

This is hard tack, jerky, salted&preserved, dried, freeze dried on purpose (this is pretty easy to achieve without magic or machines. Look it up. It's a plot bunny and a half. You're welcome.). Remember, there are migratory and hibernation patterns for animals too. Bears sleep. Also, remember that you don't want to deplete too much of the original stock. That's called endangered and extinction. Even chickens slow down laying eggs.

Long preserved vegetables- dried. Or things like potato. Sweet potato. (As I said in other posts, Indigenous peoples were ingenious at these sorts of things.)

Fermentation- What is winter kimchi? What is kim jang?

Just saying, but the masters of fermentation are Koreans. All you Europeans should have worked on preserving food better. I mean we have 350 year old soy sauce. (I already listed the best cultures for various things). Korea being mountainous with limited farmland in most regions meant higher rates of preservation. (I said this a thousand times, work with a world map first, and one that makes sense).

If you want to experience masters of the craziest fermentation on the planet, then Koreans are your best bet.

And believe me, I've done preservation techniques from every other part of the planet. No one is as passionate and fearless as Koreans in this area.

Have a character who can refrigerate food for you on the regular. Even as a "rags and bone" type of character. (You'd have to look up rags and bone and what that means, if you don't have the historical context.)

And lastly TRADE

Rich people traded all of the time. That's why they are rich. But I've said many times on this blog there are implications to trading too. (though not point by point, but you should intuitively know them. China was brought up and Europe too).

People have to stop forgetting about anything outside of temperate zones and imagining a force field around your little zone. Oranges, which I alluded to, preserve fairly well. I tried to dry out a small one and it took over 2 months. [AKA things that I do to write fantasy.] Obviously Pommelos? Effing good for a while because of the thicker skin.

If you were going to die from a nuclear winter, and you had a team of people you wanted to help you survive it, I would nominate:

An indigenous farmer who knows all of the old, old farming techniques from those who grew potatoes, etc. You're looking at Andes, Bolivia, etc. I might add one from Southern China too. Fujian province style. Maybe Iranian farmer. I talked to a water engineer from there once. Fascinating conversation. Useful for worldbuilding.

Korean(s) who knows all of the old preservation techniques and why (I'm probably making it onto that team. I'm almost up to beef jerky.).

Aboriginal hunter. ^^;; I admit I love the hunting lore. Maybe a Bush Hunter from Africa in addition.

Polynesian sea navigator. Also knows extra farming techniques.

Maybe a French chef. Maybe.

250-500 general population of humans and 250 each per animal except livestock. The best being the ole chicken. Kill the horses and cows. Contemplate goats. Probably not the sheep. (Sheep need vast grazing land). Pigs will be in competition. Pigs were traditionally killed before winter if they weren't breeding stock.

Water engineer to clean up the water supply. They should also know basics of fluvial mechanics in different environments.

Sanitation and sewer engineer expert and a biochemist.

Probably need a nuclear engineer too

Doctors.

If you eff up the farming, BTW, the whole population is going to die in this scenario. So as I said, the government effing up trade deals, etc should get them killed or at least taken off their perch. Temperate zones aren't locked. Some of them survived by virtue of the trade deals they made or running the government like China, where Southern China was often controlled by Northern China until Northern China was taken over and the government fled south.

Read History, kids, it helps?

You don't need magic. You need to know something about world history and give up the notions that Europe was a white haven which never traded in its life and rather die of starvation than trade with anyone. Didn't I go over why this is a terrible idea? I did. A post called Europe Without Trade, A World Building Exercise (link)

While you're at it

I wrote that reaaaaallly long post (50 pages) on Subsistence Systems and Worldbuilding so you can think about how to get your characters through winter. (I'm saying TRADE. !@#$ A million times what the hell is it with people who write temperate climates and are like unh, trade isn't important. No, it's effing critical and stop dreaming of a 100% white country with magically no Gulf Stream and somehow agriculture as far north as 60 N- 90 N. WTH man, science does not back it. Later Tolkien would have fits with you.)

There's a pretty good argument on why Europe went to conquer the world is that they were running out of wood (BBC Doc on colonization) due to laws the gentry had (easy to look up, BTW), the subsistence system being in a strange location (Europe is weird. Like really odd. Probably the worst example for worldbuilding if you don't know basic fluvial mechanics), and man, they were running out of food. (But oddly in the long term effed themselves over with the industrial revolution now effing up the fluvial mechanics of the streams, because the Gulf Stream is about to be royally fucked. I hear complaints about the effects from friends across the pond.) The reason Europe isn't currently going completely under is because of trade agreements, etc. Though England kinda fucked themselves there with Brexit, but ya know, still got trade agreements. (I also have a post covering how Europeans became white and racial aspects Physical Anthropology as part of the Worldbuilding series.)

The thing with trade is that you can acknowledge it without doing a whole worldbuilding exercise on the other countries. You saw a few brown people at port one day and it wasn't a big deal. They must have brought in new and "exotic" goods. But white supremacists do make a huge deal of it like they are dying and seriously what better way to say fuck you when writing a temperate climate than to mention Black and Brown traders being critical to the survival of your peoples?

Anyway, the point is that a *tiny* bit of acknowledging a long term plan for important and critical dishes and seasonal variability in your writing can help.

It's easier to think about the people who don't have magic and use the real world a bit before you magic things up.

Also another tip:

Refrigeration is critical to industrialized foods

and often the snobbery around food is about 50% about the refrigerator, though you don't realize it. Fresh seafood, for example. There is a pretty good doc series from the History channel on Modern food. And it has one on freezing and the invention of freezer trucks. This is how you are able to get fish inland without dying.

In our contemporary world,

the other percentage is basically historical amnesia on imperialism "OMG, your country eats RATS." (After we decimated all your farms, killed all your livestock, bombed you with chemicals, and then stole a large percentage of your children and killed your elders who had any chance of preserving any info then put embargoes on you and then said YOU had to pay for the war usually for some stupid reason like you were refusing to let our soldiers r*pe your women in an organized fashion [See all of Asia. Yes all, not just East Asia. I found this out in the most depressing way possible. Ah, Madame Butterfly, the gift that makes you want to hurl.], you wouldn't give us the secret of black tea [Opium Wars], you wouldn't give your spices for free, etc) "how utterly PRIMITIVE you are."

People get snobby about poverty around food, but what is poverty around food but trying to use everything you have in front of you, and not having enough to have the fancier meals? (Jewish-ish rhetorical question) Is it awful or offal?

Slight note about the system of food.

'cause adding it to the large doc might crash my computer?

I've realized that though historical fiction minds this more when set in pre-industrial times, that often fantasy set in agricultural societies doesn't seem to do this, though it should.

So I'll give you an example...

Almost everything in Korean food is centered and bred for two things: Kimchi and soy sauce.

But what you don't realize in your industrialized state how freaking long it takes to make these things and how much planning is involved and how much you have to mind the seasons in order to make it correctly.

Kimchi:

Baekchu (or other vegetables) that's often harvested in fall.

The salt, which was traditionally sea salt was harvested in the spring and summer months.

Garlic is a spring to mid summer crop.

The sweet rice that goes into winter kimchi takes a ton of work to make and can take from Spring to fall.

The fish sauce that goes into Kimchi that helps preserve it for over a year, takes and ENTIRE YEAR to make. Yes, a year. You really, really have to plan on that. And what do you do if the fishing is poor for that year?

Spring onions are faster to grow, but you still have to time it for the fall kimchi making.

The fish are seasonal. For example, Yellow Corvina is taken in Korea in the spring. Shrimp in the summer (June), and anchovies in early spring to fall.

Your timing has to be impeccable and you need an entire year to plan this one dish.

Meanwhile, you, industrialized person, take for granted that you can get fish sauce any time you like and can pour it over kimchi.

In fantasy this could add flavor to your fantasy make up, if your character can only get this dish once a year. It can add political unrest (What do you mean the salt harvest was poor and we're left with the shitty metallic salt), because your characters in an agricultural society will be subject to weather changes, which you get when reading historical fiction and so on. Three seasons of poor harvest, daaaamnn... the people might overthrow their government. There might be new religions that pop up, there might be uprisings because the King and Queen are eating feasts every day while the peasants are eating things that are empty calories.

What I'm saying is that you can't be too entrenched into industrial mindset if you're not writing an industrial setting.

That orange is seasonal and only comes about in a connected system that has winter and a warmer climate.

Maybe there are key foods for your climate that are highly treasured or sought after. Mandarins once were. Cacao. Think a bit about those things and how it might interact with the larger world. When does your plant mature and when can it be harvested? is it different from different climates? There's wars that have been fought over food. (Tea, famously, at least a few times).

A staple crop failing is going to have devastating consequences.

And yet, often in fantasy, I often see people going, ya know what I can eat in the dead of winter, strawberries. Do we have greenhouses? No. Did we have freezers? No. But you know what my character is eating? A strawberry. Yeah, think about that. Strawberries don't preserve well. So plan out the timing of your dishes a bit (to the climate and subsistence system) and it can give a bit of background worldbuilding to your dishes and food.

I do have to say that the small mentions from Rings of Power n what's in season or not and why kinda made me feel like the world and the traveling was more "real" with the Harfoot. There's small references to fall v. spring crops.