#sharing this mostly because the thought occurred while at work

[fictionadventurer]

Doris Kearns Goodwin wrote books about Abraham Lincoln and Theodore Roosevelt.

The Lincoln book is about how he was able to work with people from vastly different political backgrounds and turn at least some of them from rivals to good friends.

The Roosevelt book is about how he let differences in politics tear apart one of his closest and most enduring friendships.

That vastly oversimplifies both men (and I haven't actually read the Roosevelt book for further context) but the premises seem to highlight the key difference between their leadership styles and personalities.

[man-i-love-fanfiction]

To Share the Space with Simple Living Things - Hozier x Fem!Florist!Reader

Chapter One: Blue Hydrangeas- Gratitude

Summary: Your job as a florist has been the highlight of your day for years. It becomes even more exciting when a certain new customer becomes a regular.

Word Count: 2286

Author's Note: Hey guys! My first multi-chapter fic, i'm so excited!!! i don't have a strict posting schedule, but I won't go more than two weeks without an update. please bear with me here because I have no idea what it's like to be a florist. I hope you all enjoy!!

p.s. special shoutout again to @deprivedmusicaljunkie for beta reading, i can't thank you enough!

fic below the cut :)

You were a part of the small minority of people who actually loved their job.

The concept of this was strange to most people — strangers making small talk, men asking introductory questions on dates, even your own parents. Maybe because it wasn’t exactly a career; more so a job that someone has as a way to make rent while getting their degree, which is how you originally began to work at Earth's Laughter Florists. College had been years ago for you now, and yet you stayed behind the counter, making bouquets for customers with a genuine smile on your face. It got to the point that when the old owner decided it was time to retire, she chose you to take over. Of course, you immediately accepted; this job was the best part of your day. While all of your friends were going insane with their office jobs, you… admittedly still went insane from time to time, just in a much prettier workplace.

You had even taken it upon yourself to learn flower language: different types of flowers having different symbolic meanings. It was almost like extra credit. It gave you a new challenge of arranging flowers while keeping both color and symbolism in mind, and helped you create bouquets and arrangements with more meaning. This, in turn, gave your customers a new incentive to buy different flowers for different occasions based on what they meant. More business for you, more smiles on people's faces, and more money in your pocket. Everyone wins.

Another benefit of the job — your favorite part — was that it gave you small glimpses into the lives of other people. Flowers had a multiplicity of sorts. They were so versatile that people bought from you for almost every occasion. Weddings, funerals, birthdays, dance recitals, you name it. It made you more appreciative of others. Every day was a new insight into whatever your customers had going on. And today was no exception.

You arrived an hour before the store opened, as usual. You went into the back and threw on your apron, adjusting your name tag. Thoughts of everything you had to do before opening ran through your head, and you quickly began to busy yourself with everything from giving some flowers new vases of water to following up on an order for a wedding. Your two coworkers came in around a half an hour after your arrival, donning their aprons, saying their hellos, and also beginning their day. When the time finally came, you flipped around the sign hanging from the door, telling everyone outside you were open. You stood behind the counter and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

One of the only downsides of your job was that it required a lot of patience.

It's not like you were just staring at the clock, biding your time until a customer entered. You still had work to get done, mostly tying up loose ends from what you didn't finish before. Your coworkers were occupied with a tall order of arrangements, so they stuck to the back, with the occasional popping in to ask if you needed assistance. Politely, you declined.

Mundane was the word that kept repeating itself in your head as you did your odd jobs around the store. Not necessarily a bad thing. In fact, mundane meant nothing horrible was occurring (even though it meant nothing was occurring). Of course, mundane never does last long.

You had just finished creating an arrangement to put on display when your first customer of the day walked in.

The bell above the door rang, and you quickly walked back over to where you were supposed to be standing, not even bothering to see who had walked in until you were behind the counter.

The first thing you noticed was that he was taller than you had expected, with long brown curls that fell down to his shoulders. His outfit, a black turtleneck, a brown leather jacket, and black jeans, was the right mix of formal and casual; you could tell he had somewhere to be, but with people that wouldn't mind if he laughed a little too loudly.

To top it all off, he was handsome. You couldn't pull your gaze from him if you tried.

He walked forward, slowly looking around at all the flowers on display until his gaze locked onto you. He broke the silence between you.

“Hello. I need some flowers.”

You maintained your composure and brushed off your previous thoughts. You started your usual routine, asking him the same questions to get to know the situation (and him) better.

“What's the occasion?”

“It's my mum’s birthday.”

“Does she have a favorite flower?” You asked. He replied with no hesitation.

“She loves hydrangeas. Blue hydrangeas. She always has.”

His immediate answer brought a small smile to your face. You nodded intently and began to think of all the possible combinations of flowers that would work well.

“You're specific. I like that. That makes my job easier. Usually guys say something like ‘I don't know’ or ‘the purple ones’ or just ‘roses’. It's like some people don't even pay attention.”

“Well, that's all I know how to do.”

“A blessing and a curse, I imagine.”

“More of a blessing, believe it or not.”

“I have a similar blessing, though it seems to be laser-focused on plants of all things.” You joked. “Speaking of plants, let me start on your bouquet.”

You left your spot, walking over to the wall of flowers on display for you to pick from. You stopped and stood next to the man, fixated on the wall as you tried to decide what flowers would go well together, in meaning and in visuals. Mumbling, you thought out loud.

“Alright. For his mother. Blue hydrangeas… that's gratitude. What can go with that?”

The customer tilted his head in confusion, clearly having heard you.

“I don't mean to interrupt, but what's with blue hydrangeas and gratitude?” He asked. Your eyes widened, and you turned to face him as you started your explanation.

“Oh, it's flower language. I learned about it to help me make more symbolic bouquets. Back in the Victorian era, people would use bouquets of flowers to convey messages they couldn't say out loud. Most of the time it was a love confession, though you could also reject someone if you picked your flora wisely. Individual flowers have meanings, too. Blue hydrangeas, your mum's favorite, symbolize gratitude. There was even a change in the meaning based on which side the ribbon was on, or if they were given upside down, and…” You cut yourself off when you realized you’d been talking for much too long, your excited expression dropping. “I’m rambling about something you definitely don't care about. I’m sorry.”

He gave you a confused look, and a small laugh of disbelief escaped him.

“What? Don't apologize. That was fascinating. I don't know if I’ll ever see flowers the same way again. In a good way, of course”

The fact that he was actually invested in what you had to say pleasantly surprised you. People — not just customers, people you actually choose to surround yourself with — would often tune you out after the first two sentences.

You knew this man for two minutes and he was already raising your standards.

“Well then, I’m happy to give you a new perspective. I’ll get started on your arrangement.”

You stepped back to get a better look at the flowers lining the walls of the room. You already had a vague idea of what you wanted, you just needed to put it into action. Hydrangeas were grabbed first, and made the focal point of the bouquet immediately. Other flowers were picked up and put down, a trial-and-error of sorts until you found which ones truly matched.

Occasionally, you looked over your shoulder to find your customer still standing there, spectating you from a few feet away. He watched you with a certain gleam in his eye, one you would attribute to admiration if you didn't know any better.

Once your selections were made, you picked out a plastic sheet and took the flowers into the back, where there was a smaller room with a much larger table surface for a workspace. The wrapping was laid out, and meticulously, flowers were laid down. Rearranged. Shifted around. After a few small touches, everything was in the exact place you wanted it.

You finally finished up, wrapping the flowers in the silver plastic and tying it up with a blue ribbon. You went back behind the counter and held the bundle of flowers up, pointing at each one as you described the meaning of each specifically selected flower.

“There's the blue hydrangeas for gratitude, white roses for loyalty and beauty, and belladonna delphinium for protection and well-being. You're basically showering your mum with compliments with this thing.”

“It's gorgeous,” he replied, the look of astonishment from before lingering on his face.

“As nature tends to be.”

“I mean, you can't argue with that, but the way you’ve arranged them, it's… stunning. She’ll love it.”

His compliment surprised you; it wasn't too often you got such a compliment for a simple bouquet. It caused your heart to flutter in your chest in a way that definitely crossed the border of the employee-customer relationship you had going on. Frightening. Maybe if you kept acting unaffected, it would magically stop.

“Let me ring you up.”

There was no true cash register, and you instead relied on a pen, a yellow legal pad, and mental math for customers’ totals. It took a moment, but you calculated what he owed you.

“That'll be $54.”

He muttered in agreement, and you watched as he reached into his coat pocket. His hand stayed there, fiddling around. After a moment, he reached the opposite hand into the opposite pocket. He felt around for a second, pulling his hands out and placing them on his hips. His content expression was replaced by one that was much more panicked.

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit!”

Your brows furrowed in confusion.

“What’s the matter?”

“I…I forgot my wallet back at my house. Do you take any online payment?”

You shook your head.

“No, sorry. We're old school. That's alright though, I can put these to the side and you can run home and get your wallet.”

He let out a frustrated sigh in response, angry more at himself than anything else.

“That's the thing. I live thirty minutes from here and I’m meeting my mum in fifteen minutes, and I have specific instructions to be on time. I might just…”

He stopped his sentence, paused, and took a deep breath to calm himself.

“I��ll find something else. Thanks for all your help, though. You have a gift.”

You caught the sincerity behind his now bitter tone, and it made your heart ache. He turned to leave and took a few steps forward. You didn't process that you had said anything until his reaction.

“Wait.”

He immediately stopped in his tracks and turned around, and you realized your impulses led you to call out for him even though you had no plan whatsoever.

Biting at your lower lip, you thought of an idea. You genuinely wanted to help this man give his mother flowers… The fact you found him attractive was merely an added bonus. Besides, the pity you felt for him overrode that. Once the metaphorical light bulb lit above your head, you spoke again, leaning in closer and lowering your voice so only he could hear.

“Okay, I’m not supposed to do this, and this definitely isn't a good business practice, but I can tell you're not just doing this to steal flowers from me, so I’ll make an exception.”

He leaned in as well with a look of intrigue. You continued to explain.

“You can take the bouquet for now, and then within… I don't know, two days, you have to pay me back. I’d just need a name and phone number so I can contact you if you don't show up.”

You snatched one of your business cards from the display and flipped it over so the blank side faces upwards, leaving a pen in front of you so he could write. He picked up the ballpoint, seemingly scribbled for a moment, and then slid the card back over to you. Written in surprisingly beautiful handwriting, you read his name aloud.

“Andrew… Nice to meet you. I’m Y/N.”

“I know.”

This caught you off guard. For a second you wondered if maybe you did accidentally give a free bouquet to a shady guy.

“Excuse me?”

Andrew’s mouth went agape as he realized the connotation behind what he said, and he quickly muttered an explanation, flustered. “Oh my god! No. Not like that. You… your name tag.”

A sigh of relief escaped your lips, and you gave him a nod.

“Right. Forgot that was there for a second. Alright, take your bouquet. Happy birthday to your mother. And remember, two days.”

He gave you a gesture showing his gratitude, pressing his hands together.

“Thank you. So much. I don’t know how I’ll repay you.” He said, grabbing the bouquet.

��Hopefully with money in two days,” you joked.

He let out a laugh.

“Money would do the trick. I’ll see you soon.”

“See you soon.”

You watched as he left, the smile of your face growing as you noticed his appreciation of the flowers you had arranged by the doorway. He paused for a moment before opening the door and leaving, and you caught him humming a tune you'd never heard before.

You hoped he would come back much sooner rather than later.

[almightyellie]

i'm not in love

in which angus always preferred being alone. at least, he used to.

pairing is angus tully x fem!reader

word count is 3.4k

author says don't look at me <3 not proofread bc it's me

you should watch out for college-aged angus, mostly just two besties who are so in love it makes them stupid

title song is i'm not in love // 10cc

angus tully answers his mother’s biweekly calls diligently. not because either of them truly want to speak to each other—it’s more perfunctory than anything. she calls and asks about school, and he tells her it’s good. then he asks about stanley, and she tells him about stanley’s job, and then she’ll ask angus about his job. he tells her it’s fine, and she offers him money that he’ll accept only if he’s in a particularly foul mood. after three years, they almost have it down to a perfect script. 

at least, he thought they did. 

“how’s y/n?”

the question catches him so off-guard that his sharp intake of breath makes him choke, but judy waits patiently for an answer. he mentioned you every once in a while. mostly, he likes that you’re an entirely separate part of his life from his mother and stanley. he’ll bring you up if she asks why he isn’t coming home on a holiday, or on the off-chance she asks about his weekend plans. yours is one of the only names he’s ever given her when he talks about school, and one of the only ones that seems to stick around longer than a few months at a time. “she’s…good,” he responds tentatively.

“what are you guys doing tonight?”

he stares at his phone in bemusement. “what is this?”

she sighs, and he can almost see that displeased look on her face. he had it memorized. “when are we going to meet her?”

“why do you want to meet her?” he asks. if he really thinks about it, it makes sense. you two had lived across from one another for three years, and you had fallen together in a way that almost felt predetermined. you are the longest standing person in his life post-high school, and his mother knows this.

he had always preferred being alone. even as a child, he had no interest in playing with the neighborhood kids in the middle of the street. he liked doing things by himself. he liked doing what he wanted without having to inform anyone else. when he had gone to college and found a semi-affordable apartment that he wouldn’t have to share, he had been elated. the cute girl across the hall had just been a plus. 

you two had always just worked. he holds everyone at arm's length, but it had never even occurred to him to shut you out. you two end up together most nights, watching movies or doing homework. it happens so easily that he hardly recognizes how strange it is. perpetual wallflower angus tully is attached.

“well, you two have been together for a while. if things are serious, i think it’s best that we meet her.”

angus blinks, shocked, before a nervous laugh bubbles up in his chest. it starts low, but the longer she waits in her own confused silence, the louder and more unruly his laughter becomes. he’s laughing—not because the idea is ridiculous, but because it’s so plausible that it takes him by surprise. he had spent the last two years trying to bury his feelings for you, and he had been so unsuccessful that even his mother had picked up on it.

“angus,” she snaps, and he giggles, even though it isn’t funny, even though his stomach twists and rolls in a way that makes him feel sick.

“i’m sorry,” he gasps, covering his eyes. “just…we—y/n and i aren’t together.”

there’s a long moment of silence where he catches his breath before his mom says, “angus, that’s not funny.”

“well, it is, if you think about it really hard,” he offers. she sighs, exasperated, and angus rubs his eyes. he can’t possibly explain to his mother what about this situation is truly amusing, because really, it isn’t funny. it’s not funny that he’s desperately in love with his best friend, and it’s not funny that she oscillates between entirely oblivious and seemingly aware. 

“you’re telling me you’ve been missing family holidays for a girl you aren’t dating?” 

he can tell she doesn’t believe him, and he doesn’t bother reminding her that they haven’t had a real family holiday in years. long before he started university, and long before he met you. besides, answering that question honestly is dangerous, and should he not handle this delicately, he’ll find himself on the wrong side of his mother’s wrath.

“uh…”

he’s fumbling, panicking, and it only gets worse when he hears his front door open. “angus?” you call, and his whole body cringes, his head falling to rest on the wall.

“angus,” judy warns.

“yeah,” he blurts, watching you round the corner. you smile, offering only a small wave as you drop your bag onto his kitchen table. “no, mom, obviously not. that would be ridiculous.”

as he feels her anxiety cease, his own skyrockets. he’s focused entirely on you; your back is turned toward him as you open his fridge, searching through the shelves for something to eat. if it were anyone else, he’d be irritated, but he almost loves it when you do it. loves that you feel comfortable enough in his home to make yourself feel at home, that he can take care of you in the smallest way. most nights, when he lies in bed and thinks of you, he finds himself thinking of the ways he could take care of you. the ways he could give you what he never had, the things that had been ripped from him. security. unconditional affection. peace. he’s barely listening when his mother sighs again. “you know, i don’t understand your humor sometimes.”

“i know,” he says. you kick the fridge closed, enough food in your hands to feed both of you. “hey, she actually just got here. can i let you go?”

“not until you answer my question.” her voice is clipped now, and angus winces. some nights she’s a little more forgiving with his distraction, a little more responsive to the things he says that she doesn’t necessarily understand. tonight, he’s more distracted than usual and less decipherable than ever. “when can we meet her?”

angus groans, and you smile over your shoulder. you know better than anyone how much he struggles with his mother. you’ve listened in on many of their phone calls, and patiently listened to him complain about them later. “i don’t know, mom.”

“how about easter?” she asks. angus turns to lean against the wall and watch you, and you lean against the counter, waiting for him to be done. he rolls his eyes, a silent cue that things are taking longer than he’d like. “stanley and i can drive up that saturday and take you guys out for a nice dinner. on us.”

reluctantly, only because he knows that she’ll blow a gasket if they don’t nail down plans on this phone call, and because he wants this to be over, he huffs. he pulls the receiver away slightly and asks, “you want to have dinner with my mom and stanley easter weekend?”

you blink owlishly. “what? why?”

“they want to meet you.”

“why?” you insist. he glares at you impatiently; knowing angus—more, knowing what you know about his mother—an answer is needed now, and explanation must come later. the idea of meeting his mom makes your stomach turn uncomfortably, but there he stands. even with a hard glare, you feel safe with him. you feel the need to do what he asks of you, and you know him well enough to know that he wouldn’t ask if he thought it would be something you couldn’t handle. “uh…i guess, yeah.”

he offers a grateful smile. “easter weekend sounds great, mom.”

they quickly finalize plans before hanging up, and the second the receiver is back on hook, he groans loudly, rubbing his eyes. you wait for him to speak, but he stands with his hands over his eyes, hiding from you. “angus.”

“she thinks you’re my girlfriend,” he blurts.

you really don’t mean to start laughing. “what?”

his lips turn up in a sheepish smile. “i guess they’ve thought we were together this entire time,” he chuckles. “and i panicked! she accused me missing holidays to spend time with you and i didn’t want to get in trouble—”

you clutch your stomach, doubled over in laughter. he doesn’t want to laugh—frankly, he’s a little hurt that you find the idea so laughable, but he had laughed, too. “you caved,” you gasp. “you caved and told a lie because you didn’t want to get in trouble with your mommy.”

“okay.” he rolls his eyes. “whatever. you’re part of this now, too.”

your giggles die down and you turn to take the food out of the microwave. “hey, i could back out. i could break up with you at any time.”

he scoffs, but doesn’t respond. often enough, when you’re doing exactly what you’re doing now, angus’ feelings become overwhelming. watching you move around his kitchen with the kind of natural domesticity makes him feel choked, buried under his overflowing affection.

the harder he fights his feelings, the worse they get. you’re his best friend—it’s not on purpose, either; you aren’t at all the kind of person he ever thought he would fall for. you were bitingly funny, of course, but you fought him constantly. he wouldn’t even say you were particularly nice for the first few months you two knew one another. you’re entirely out of left field, and he can’t even get a read on you half the time—not that he even really wants to. part of him thinks that knowing exactly what you think about him would be truly crushing.

“i guess a free meal could be nice,” you tease, stirring your dinner with a knowing smile.

“yeah, you’re so unused to those,” he bites, pushing himself off the wall. you beam.

it’s surprising, in a way, that you hadn’t met angus’ mom and stepfather already. he’s met your family a thousand times over; they take you both out to dinner every single time they visit you. they had sent him a birthday gift this year, for christ’s sake. but you could probably count the amount of time angus had seen his mother in the last three years on both hands. you were surprised enough that she even remembered your name.

you had spent your entire friendship with angus thinking about his mother. being angry with her. your best friend is caring, in his own stilted, modest way. he’s witty and so smart that it intimidates you, and he’s loyal. it tells you all you need to know that his relationship with his mother isn’t strong. 

he bumps you out of the way, and you let him. you watch him open the cupboard for plates to evenly split the leftover pasta, and your chest nearly heaves with confused affection. you see the way he looks at you when he’s not careful. with an unrestrained reverence, with a tenderness that can’t be forced. it had made you uncomfortable, at first. made you feel like you couldn’t be around him anymore. you had tried to pull away—for a day or two. 

the reality of the entire situation is that angus tully belongs in your life. you adore him too much to cut him out, and even if you didn’t, it kills you to think of him alone. he’s a lone wolf; it’s amazing enough that you two have connected the way that you have. if angus didn’t have you, he had a few friends from class. maybe two or three guys from work. but nothing as deep, nothing as serendipitous as your friendship. 

discomfort with his feelings had grown into a tentative acceptance once you realized he had no plans on acting on them, and after a few months, tentative acceptance had grown into…something else entirely. you aren’t sure exactly what it is. it isn’t like those juvenile, giddy crushes you had harbored in high school. angus doesn’t keep you up at night, nor does he make you lovesick. he puts you at ease. he makes you feel safe. he makes you feel like yourself.

you don’t want to confront the strange sense of peace that angus has offered you without even knowing. without even trying. you don’t want to change your friendship, or misattribute your feelings, so you ignore them. and you ignore the way he looks at you, and how he insists on making your favorite dinners, even though he complains about you eating his leftovers, and how he uses your spare key to lock your door every single time he leaves your apartment without fail. 

your knees bump together under the tiny table in his kitchen as you two eat dinner. you listen to him talk about his coworkers, lulled into relaxation by his deep voice; you always loved your dinnertime conversations. mostly, one of you just talked. you would talk about school and work and your classmates and your days; they aren’t even really conversations. it’s just an excuse to talk and an opportunity to listen. he doesn’t mind when you don’t respond, and neither of you care if the other person talks the entire time. it’s time spent together more than anything else. you think about how effortless it feels. how you could do this every night with intention, not under the guise of getting out of your apartment. you think about the dinner with his mom, and how you’ll both put on nice outfits to go out, and how you’ll come home together, and how you’ll dissect every detail of the dinner and the conversations for the entire night, if not for days afterwards.

you notice only a moment too late that you’ve zoned out, and angus kicks your shin gently. “you good?”

with a reassuring smile, you nod. “yeah. i’m just thinking about dinner with your mom.”

he’s bashful when he laughs quietly. “yeah…sorry. i know i kind of screwed you over.” you can tell that he truly does feel bad, but the longer you think about it, the less you dread it. you think you might actually like an excuse to acknowledge the way angus looks at you, for him to not have to hide it. 

“i don’t know…i’m kind of excited,” you admit, pushing food around your plate. angus looks at you from under his lashes, taking pause at your tone. you refuse to look at him, and it sends his heart into overdrive; he’s panicked, certainly, and so in love with you that it makes him nauseous. he isn’t entirely sure that he’ll survive a night of you pretending. of it all feeling so real.

he can feel a confession coming, bubbling up in his chest, and he swallows in panic. “she’s—she’ll like you, i think.”

with a slight smile, you push your plate away from you. “i’m not sure i’ll like her.”

which he loves about you, naturally. 

he clears his throat to bury the confession and stands; angus grabs both plates and turns his back to you to hide his flushed cheeks. shamelessly, since he can’t see you, you watch him, soothed simply by the way he moves. by how familiar he is. by how you can almost predict every move he makes. the words fall out before you’re even cognizant of them

“just so you know, i don’t mind your mom thinking i’m your girlfriend.”

the way he freezes makes your shoulders tense. you hadn’t meant to say that. it was true, but he didn’t need to know that. angus’ mind screeches to a full stop before it starts running ten times faster than before. what did that mean?

slowly—so slowly that you almost don’t notice—he sets the plates in the sink. you won’t get out of this. you know you won’t, because you know angus. once the door is open, he’ll take the opportunity to push it every single time. “why?” he asks, his voice a carefully constructed tone of ease. he plays it well; his nonchalance is almost perfectly natural. it nearly tricks you.

still kicking yourself, you shrug even though he can’t see you. instead, you start emptying your bag to distract yourself. textbooks and notebooks and pencils clatter against the table. “just…we could sell it, don’t you think?” it’s not even close to what he wants to hear, and you buckle down even though you know you won’t win this one. “we know everything about each other.”

he snorts, and it puts you at ease. not because you’re going to get out of this. you know something dangerous is going to come out of this conversation, but because it’s angus. it’s your best friend. and you know him, and you know the way he treats you is symptomatic of something much larger. it used to scare you, but it doesn’t now. not now that he washes your dishes, the sleeves of his sweater pushed up to his elbows. you trust him. you know that any vulnerability you share will be returned to you tenfold.

“yeah, right. that just makes it convenient,” he says knowingly, head tilting. he watches you sort through your textbooks, hiding your anxiety while you busy yourself.

part of you hopes that he’ll just drop it. not because you don’t think things will work out, but because you love how things are between the two of you. the almosts, the what-ifs, the wondering is something you so love to savor. it’s still so easy between you two; all of those what-ifs still exist only in your minds, only in the silent space between you that neither of you are willing to acknowledge. there’s plausible deniability. there’s safety.

you smile shakily, glancing up at him. “i guess i mean…that we…work?”

he smiles back, comforting but still audacious. “and by that, you mean…”

with a groan, you fold your arms and bury your face in them. you know this leap can only be beneficial, but you’re struggling to let yourself admit anything. it’s more frustrating than the denial. 

angus stares at you, suddenly the emotionally constipated one, and his heart is pounding in his ears. he can feel it beating against his chest; he’s not brave enough to hope. it’s too scary for him to wonder if this is finally it, if you had been as keenly aware as he had assumed you to be. 

“just…i think there’s a reason my mom thinks we’re together. just so you know.” you groan louder, unmoved by his words, and he continues, “beyond the fact that we’re constantly together.”

you peek up at him, your chin still pressed against your forearms. he watches you, big brown eyes wide open with vulnerability. he’s waiting. you figure it’s as good of a segue as he’s going to give you. with a deep breath, ignoring the turning and rolling of your stomach, you say, “i feel like…things could be like that between us.”

he breaks into a smile so wide that you have to look away from him. “oh, is that what this is about?” he asks facetiously. 

you grunt, irritated. “don’t tease me.”

he laughs, uncrossing his arms. you don’t even want to look at him, humiliated. he hasn’t rejected you—in fact, you know he’s just keeping you on the line to tease you. it irritates you, but he seems giddy, even if he tries to act like he’s unaffected. he can’t keep that goofy smile off his face. it entirely gives him away. “hey,” he says, voice bright. “c’mere.”

“no,” you spit, annoyed. you know that the second you give in, everything will change. for the better, you think, but it will change. you hold on to the wondering for just a moment longer, but you can’t help yourself. he waits patiently at the counter, holding on to the ledge. you like the wondering, but you think you’re ready to find out if it’s as good as it seems it would be.

self-conscious, you cross the room to him. you stand only centimeters apart, and he grins at you, fingers gently stroking the hem of your collar. “you know, right?”

you don’t have to ask what he means. you know. maybe not the depths, but you know. the way he looks at you is enough to let you know. the way he takes care of you tells you what his words haven’t yet. they will. “you can’t hide from me, angus tully.”

he loves that about you, too. he’ll tell you all the specifics later. for now, he kisses you, a long arm around your waist, and you think that this is much better than the what-ifs.

[merrybloomwrites]

Something Great (Larry x Bandmember Reader)

Summary: When you find yourself the sole girl in a band with five boys, of course your main focus is the band. But the boys? Well, they also have your attention. Navigating relationships is hard, but if you're lucky, that work can be worth it in the end.

Word Count: 2.5K

AN: Thank you to the anon who requested Louis x Harry x bandmember reader ages ago! Thanks both for the request, and the patience as I dealt with some major writers block on this one.

This isn't going to be a series so much as a little universe where I add random stories to it. So this is the getting together story to create the universe. I have a few ideas so far, but if there's anything specific you'd like to see feel free to send a message or leave a comment!

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Singing has always been a passion of yours. Your mom had put you in the children’s choir at church when you were little, and you’ve been singing ever since.

When your friends heard about auditions for the X-Factor they had all encouraged you to go. Or well, basically forced you. Even when you said it was silly, that you weren’t that good, they still told you that you had to at least try.

You never thought you’d make it, and when you didn’t get accepted after your audition you figured you’d been right. But then you and five boys all got called back and were put together in a band. 

Next thing you know you’re competing, spending all of your time with these five boys to practice and do interviews. You thought this would be short lived, that it would end once you lost the competition, but the opposite had happened. You’d all quickly rose to fame, becoming loved by people all over the world.

It’s a busy job, and doesn’t leave time for much else.

Except you’re a teenage girl, now sharing a tour bus and effectively living with five teenage boys. Five boys who have somehow quickly tamed their fluffy hair from messes into attractive styles. Five boys who are more open and vulnerable about their feelings with each other than anyone you’ve ever met. Five boys who are silly, and protective, and kind.

So yea, of course you can’t help but develop crushes on them. However, while your attention definitely cycles through all of them, you find yourself focusing mostly on Harry and Louis. 

Harry, well you’ve had a crush on him since day one. But you watched the way he was with Louis, the looks and touches they shared. This puts two conflicting thoughts in your mind. The first being that Harry is probably not interested in you, or girls for that matter, because, I mean, look at him with Louis. There’s no doubt that he has feelings for him. On the other hand, it made you pay even more attention to Louis, thus deepening your crush for him as well.

You’d find yourself switching between daydreams about being with Harry and then daydreams about being with Louis. So really it was only a matter of time until that all blended together. Without you even realizing it, you were now daydreaming about it being the three of you. 

Admitting to yourself that you want a relationship with both of them was difficult. Because you knew that it could never happen. So you tried to bury those dreams deep down until they would eventually go away.

It worked for a while. Things got even busier and your focus turned fully to the music.

And then you walked in on a sight you should have expected. But still, seeing Harry and Louis kissing was somehow a shock. One that left you feeling so sad, and lonely, and somehow rejected. 

They didn’t know you caught them, so you had backed away and let them continue their moment in private.

But it was clear that a shift had occurred in the dynamic. The boys kept their secret for another week before telling the rest of you that they were together. You watched as Liam, Niall, and Zayn congratulated them on finally figuring out their feelings. You joined in, hoping your enthusiasm matched the rest. 

Weeks pass, and you’re constantly having to watch Harry and Louis together. They have to hide the relationship from the outside world, which means they’re practically attached at the hip whenever they can find privacy. And apparently that includes times when you, Niall, Liam, and Zayn are there. 

They never get too over the top, but when it’s just the band, they’re always touching in some way, or sharing the occasional kiss. 

It should be sweet, and it is, and you’re happy for them, truly. But jealousy is an ugly thing. And the more you have to watch them being so cute together, the more your jealousy rages. 

You’ve had to start distancing yourself from them, worried that you’d do or say something that you’d later regret. They picked up on this of course, and one day they come to confront you about it while you’re all waiting backstage between sound check and a show. 

“Do you have a problem with us being together?” Louis asks. He’s holding Harry’s hand, and the sight of him running his thumb gently along the back has you almost crying. You wish you were in their position, either of their positions. But no, you’re alone.

“I don’t have a problem,” you reply.

“Really? Because you’ve been avoiding us for weeks now,” Harry says. “Is it because we’re two boys?”

That shocks you, and you say, “Of course not! I can’t believe you’d accuse me of being homophobic! That you’d think so little of me that I’d be bothered by that!”

“Well you’re clearly bothered by something! And we know it has to do with me and Harry being in a relationship,” Louis retorts. 

“I don’t have a problem with you two being in a relationship! I just-” you throw your arms up and turn to step away. Harry reaches out and his hand wraps around your wrist as he says, “Please don’t walk away! Not until we figure this out. I don’t want us drifting apart like we have been.”

Your breath catches, both at his touch and his pleading words. You pause for a moment before finally turning back. Harry drops his hand and your skin feels cold in his absence. 

“What is it, Y/N?” Louis asks calmly. You can tell by his expression that he wants to fix this, that he wants to help you. But you have no idea how to explain the problem without admitting your feelings for them. 

“I guess I’m just feeling lonely. And watching the two of you be so happy together makes that worse. Also-” you cut yourself off once more, not wanting to let anything slip.

“Also?” Louis prompts.

“I guess that as the only girl in the band I thought that if anyone would be in a relationship with a bandmate, it would be me. But I didn’t want to complicate things so I just, you know, squished my feelings down so they’d go away.”

Harry quickly says, “But I mean, you still can. We can even help you! Who is it? Liam? You two would be so cute together! Or is it Z, or Niall?” 

Harry doesn’t notice your expressions he speaks, but Louis does. He immediately understands what Harry hasn’t and says, “Is it one of us?”

Your face flushes and you want so desperately to hide in embarrassment at being called out like this. But you just reply, “I mean, yes and no.”

They both look at you confused before putting the pieces together. “You like both of us,” Harry states. You nod yes. “Did you want to be with one of us?” he asks. You shrug, not really knowing how to reply. “Did you want to be with both of us?” he finally asks. 

You know you can’t lie, that they’ve cornered you and now you have to admit this. “Fine, yes! Okay, yes, I like both of you and I wanted to be with both of you but I knew that wasn’t an option and now you’re together so neither of you are options and I just have to deal with that. You know the truth now, so I’m going to go hide in shame for a little while.”

This time you don’t let them stop you, walking away swiftly and hiding in a nearby girls bathroom where they can’t follow you. 

Things are awkward for the rest of the day but everyone does their best to put on a good show. You wake up the next morning in your hotel room and quickly check twitter to make sure there were no negative comments. Seeing nothing, you’re relieved that the fans didn’t pick up on the tension between you, Harry, and Louis.

You get up and make a cup of tea, and just as you go to take a sip there’s a knock at the door. Never a moment of peace, you think to yourself. That thought gets emphasized when you look through the peephole and see who’s on the other side. 

Somewhat grudgingly, you open the door to let Harry and Louis in.

It’s awkward as you share good mornings. It’s a small room, so the only sitting option is the bed. Knowing this is likely about to be a sit down conversation, you wordlessly turn and sit cross legged on the bed, your back against the headboard. Louis and Harry both perch at the end of the bed, leaving space between them.

For a second you feel guilt, wondering if the conversation yesterday caused a rift between the two boys. But then they share a look and you know that’s not the case. 

“We wanted to talk about what you said yesterday,” Louis begins. 

“Well, actually we talked to each other about it quite a lot last night,” Harry adds. “So now we wanted to include you.”

“I've said everything I have to say,” you state, tired of having this conversation again. 

“Yea but we haven’t,” Harry answers. “You were honest and vulnerable last night. Now it’s our turn.”

There’s a small spark in you, a spark of hope that you try to tamp down in case this doesn’t go your way. 

Louis speaks next, “Harry and I were talking last night and we learned that on top of our feelings for each other, we both have feelings for you as well.”

“You're just saying that now that I’ve said it,” you reply defensively. 

“We’re not! I promise!” Harry interjects. “You can call our mums, they’ll tell you that we’ve called them to talk about how we both have crushes on two band members and don’t know what to do.” 

It’s clear he’s telling the truth, and it makes your mind spin. These two boys, whom you like, both like you as well. But they also like each other. And are in a relationship. So where does that leave you?

“Ok, so we all like each other,” you say. “What now? Does anything change or do I just have to live with this information?”

“We’d like if things would change,” Louis says. “We discussed it last night, and we both want you to be a part of our relationship. If you want to, that is.”

You almost ask for time to think about it. But you’re tired of thinking. “I want to. I want to be with both of you.”

You know it will be difficult to navigate a three person relationship, especially when you’re all under such high levels of scrutiny at all times, but right now you don’t care. Right now, you’re getting everything you’ve ever dreamed of. 

“Will you go on a date with us? Tonight?” Harry asks, his cherubic face full of hope. 

“But we’re not allowed to leave the hotel,” you say. 

“Who cares?” Louis adds. “We’ll get takeaway and eat together in my room. It’s completely clean, l’m staying in Harry’s anyway.” 

“Will you have dinner with us?” 

“Okay. Yes, I’ll have dinner with you guys tonight,” you answer. 

“It’s a date,” Louis says with a smile. “Room 328, 6pm.”

“I’ll be there.”

The three of you stand and walk over to the door. Harry leans in for a bruising hug, holding you tight. Louis is next, and it feels so right to be tucked into his arms. They say goodbye and promise to see you later. 

You spend the rest of the day on cloud nine. Each time you go to do something you pause and think about Harry and Louis, and your heart fills with joy. 

You take a long relaxing shower and dress in a nice pair of jeans and a comfy sweater. It’s not often that you put on makeup and style your own hair but you do so today, wanting to look nice for the boys. 

They each greet you with a kiss on the cheek, and you feel heat rush to your face at the gesture while butterflies flutter in your stomach. You have a lovely time, getting to know Harry and Louis even more. 

When you’ve all finished eating you sit together on the bed to watch a movie. You’re sandwiched between the two boys, and overwhelmed by the feeling of comfort that provides. Halfway through the movie, Harry places his hand gently on your thigh. Minutes later, Louis does the same on your other leg. It feels so good and drives you completely crazy at the same time. 

Nothing more happens during the movie. But there’s a certain energy when it ends, and you can’t help but wonder what might happen next. 

In the soft glow of the TV screen you watch Harry and Louis share a glance, followed by a head nod. Harry squeezes the hand that’s resting on your right thigh, then brings his free hand up to cup your check. He gently turns your head to look at him and you watch as his soft eyes dart to look at your lips. 

Your breath catches as you realize what’s happening. Time seems to freeze as Harry slowly leans closer. You try to memorize every moment of this, knowing it’s the start of so much more. Harry’s thumb caresses your face and finally, his lips brush against yours. 

He pulls back a centimeter and takes a deep breath before firmly connecting his lips to yours. The kiss doesn’t last long, but it fills you with warmth from head to toe. 

Harry has the brightest smile, his eyes sparkling with joy. 

“Lou’s turn?” He asks and you happily shift to face Louis now. 

He bites his bottom lip, and you wish he wouldn’t. You’d much rather do that for him. He releases it and his tongue darts out to lick it. Again you can’t wait until you’re able to do it instead. 

His hand goes to your waist and he moves close. You breathe the same air and then, he’s kissing you. This lasts a little longer, his lips sliding against yours for a moment before he pulls away and places one more kiss just at the edge of your mouth. 

You rest your head on Louis' shoulder and lace your fingers with Harry’s. The three of you relax like that until you start to doze off. 

The boys walk you back to your room, but not before each giving you a good night kiss. 

You lay in bed reflecting on the past two days. You know this won’t be easy, navigating a relationship like this. But you know it will be worth it. 

This is clearly the start of something great.

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AN: Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed and I'm looking forward to sharing more about this little trio!

[yoru-exe]

⊹₊ COMING HOME LATE ₊⊹

in which they come home late into the night after practice

featuring: tsukishima kei, miya atsumu, oikawa tooru

a/n: its been a very looong time since i write haikyuu huwaaa (the dumpster battle brought be back here and i'm glad!)

tsukishima kei

he always made sure to tell you in advance if he's coming home late because he doesn't want you to stay up and wait for him. while you would go to bed first, tsukishima never goes to sleep on his own. it's one of those night again today, one that made him deeply grateful for your presence in his otherwise quiet life.

he sighed in the dark hallway, tiredness washed over him as he took off his shoes. a soft smile carved it's way on his lips to the sound of soft footsteps approached him. "welcome home", you buried your face against his back. "i'm sweaty" he replied but made no effort to move away from you, his bigger palm squeezing yours on reflex.

you giggled, "i'm your wife, nice to finally have you back home". he rolled his eyes and continued to bask in your comforting embrace, his fatigue melted away. when he's finally ready to move, he guided your chin so that you face upward before kissing you softly on the forehead, "i'm home".

miya atsumu

it's nothing new for him to come home late from practice, especially during tournament seasons. sometimes, he'd stop by osamu's shop, way after it's closing time, and hang out to ungodly hour. this time, he'd lost track of time practising his serve. you're grateful for hinata's thoughtfulness to let you know about it.

on nights like this, you love to do your more lengthy self-care routine that otherwise would be impossible with atsumu around because he'd cling to you for your attention. you started to gather your things — bathbomb, current series you're binging, skin care products. by the time your husband's back, you had your sheet mask on as you made your way to the dark hallway to greet him.

he didn't expect you to still be awake, so when he saw a women in white out of nowhere, he's spooked so bad he panickily scrambled for his key to get out of the door. "should have captured that. suna would love the look on your face", you unsuccessfully stifled your laughter, mostly to not bother the neighbours rather than hurting his feelings. "hey!".

oikawa tooru

you didn't know if he's coming back at all for the night. in fact, you're fairly certain that he's not. so you thought it was safe to watch the series you've promised to watch together. to be fair, the promise was made weeks ago, which he didn't manage to fulfil yet because of his late returnings.

you're a few minutes away from finishing the 5th episode when you heard a very dramatic gasp behind you. "you promised to watch it with me!", oikawa clasped his jacket where his heart should be. an unsurprising reaction, you thought. he might changed his nationally, but deep down, he's still the drama queen he always has been.

while you did not expect your husband to return home tonight, you did thought of a plan in case this situation occurs — to charm your way out. "but you're never home, and i need to distract myself. it's too lonely otherwise", you mustered your best puppy eyes. unfortunately for him, it worked. his pout was still there when he scooped you away to your shared bedroom, "fine, we're watching it tomorrow, but you're starting back to episode one!".

[lacy-oh-lacy]

Sidney Prescott ･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

NSFW Alphabet

Scream Masterlist | Main Masterlist

CW: Fem!Reader, general smut, praise kink, oral, bondage, edging

Aftercare

Even if you had the most vanilla sex in the world, Sidney understands the importance of aftercare. She wants you to feel loved and she wants to feel loved back. Cuddles and pillow talk are vital.

Body part

On herself: She’s never given it much thought but she does like her body in general, she appreciates how athletic and durable it is, and she certainly enjoys how much you like it.

On you: She really loves your mouth. Your smile still gives her butterflies, she can’t see you without kissing you and yeah, feeling your mouth work her into an orgasm is her favorite kind of pleasure.

Cum

When Sidney’s in the moment she doesn’t mind getting a bit messy but she does want to get cleaned up soon after you’re finished. Which means post-sex showers together.

Dirty secret 

She’ll eventually open up to you about any dirty secret she has. They're mostly just sexual fantasies that make her blush.

Experience 

Sidney had a couple experimental hook ups in college but you’re the first girl she’s gotten serious with. She is a quick learner and the two of you have good communication so you’re definitely kept satisfied.

Favorite position 

She likes to see your face and make eye contact during sex, so she tends to go for simple things like missionary or cowgirl. Besides it’s not like she needs a complicated position to give you a mind blowing orgasm.

Goofy

Sidney can be pretty silly, especially as you’re getting started, but she gets more focused and intense as you really get into it.

Hair

Shaving down there isn’t much of a priority for her. She has a bush most of the time.

Intimacy 

Intimacy is very important to her. Sure, sometimes you have heated, hormone-driven sex that would appear straight out of a porno, but sweet and romantic sex where you can really feel your love for each other has a special place in her heart.

Jack off

Not often. She’d rather get off with you even if that means waiting a while. 

Kink

Sidney likes experimenting with different kinks but she does usually lean vanilla. Her regularly occurring ones are mommy kink, praise and edging.

Location 

Pretty much only your home, but not just the bedroom. You have your share of fun on the couch, in the bathtub, up against the wall and so on.

Motivation 

A lot of the time Sidney wants to have sex to express her affection, so in that sense loving you is what motivates her. On a more carnal level though when you act flirty or walk around in nothing but one of her shirts, that really turns her on.

No

Well, she’s got a lot of trauma so things like choking, blood or the hard forms of pain play are out.

Oral

Giving and receiving oral are two of her favorite parts of sex. She usually opts for giving but of course you reciprocate plenty because she absolutely deserves it.

Pace

Slow and soft sex definitely happens but she actually loves fucking you hard and fast a lot of the time too, she still has a way of making that feel loving though.

Quickie 

It’s not proffered but she does like them. She’ll take any chance to get your hands on each other and it is kinda fun seeing how quickly she can make you cum.

Risk

Not her thing, Sidney rarely takes unnecessary risks. She doesn’t need an added layer of excitement anyway, just having you so close thrills her enough. 

Stamina 

You can’t survive multiple serial killers without having some serious stamina. Sidney can be hard to keep up with sometimes.

Toys

She probably doesn’t suggest any herself but if you want to bring some sex toys into the bedroom her curiosity is peaked and she’s happy to try them out.

Unfair

She can definitely be a tease but more often than not it’s in a playful way. 

Volume

She isn’t usually that loud but her voice does get pleasantly high pitched as she gets close to coming.

Wild card

You’ve experimented with bondage during sex a bit, but less to be kinky and more as a trust exercise. Sidney does like it but it’s rare she feels comfortable enough to do it.

X-Ray 

Sidney’s body is athletic but also so soft, spare the rougher patches of scarring. 

Yearning 

She doesn’t have the highest libido in the world. She can go a while without having sex but she does get pretty needy when she’s in the mood.

Zzz

She loves falling asleep with you so she definitely pulls you into her arms and drags you to bed if she’s feeling dozy after sex.

[frownyalfred]

Hello! A random and specific question has occurred to me, and I think you might have some thoughts, if you're ok with answering!

So, most of the time Judaism is passed down matrilineally. I know there are some exceptions, and some groups that believe Judaism can be passed down through either parent, but generally it's just through the mother. This is how dc accidentally made Bruce Jewish.

However, is it the birthing parent who makes a child Jewish? Or is it strictly the mother, regardless of if she gives birth to the child or not?

I know that sounds like I'm asking about trans Jewish people, but I'm actually curious how this would play out in a world where mpreg is normalized, like in an abo alternate universe. For instance, if Bruce is Jewish and gets pregnant as an omega, would his kids also be Jewish? I did look up perspectives on trans Jewish people having kids, and unsurprisingly views are divided but it seemed like people mostly consider the birthing parent being important, i.e. a trans Jewish man would have Jewish children regardless of the other parent. What are your thoughts on this, if you're open to sharing?

(This ask got longer than I meant, sorry I wrote you a whole essay lol. Also I really hope this doesn't come across as rude, and I sincerely apologize if it does. Tone is difficult on the internet!)

Oh, that's a very very interesting question. Another one I'd like to ask my rabbi if I ever work up the nerve.

I'm no scholar, so if someone else wants to correct me on this one, feel free. But here's my best guess:

The gist of matrilineal descent is that it emerged from a time when the only way you could guarantee that a child was Jewish was to witness the birth from a Jewish mother. Rape, missing fathers, etc all made it a grey area, and back then, it was the only way to be "sure" that a child was halachically Jewish.

The interesting thing is, this was a change from patrilineal descent, but people still argue about when that change happened. Depending on the denomination, matrilineal descent is very very important beyond just determining Judaism, or it's a vestigial practice that has stuck around because it's, well, tradition.

Now, origin and existence are two different things. While it might have emerged for certain reasons, modern standards have obviously changed. We can do DNA tests and other rituals. But a lot of major denominations will turn away patrilineal Jews or hold those with Jewish DNA at arm's length until their Jewishness has been determined. That's only changed recently, and even then very slowly.

So, now that that's out of the way -- how does this relate to omegaverse? I suppose carriers in a/b/o universes would be considered de facto mothers, because they give birth. From my (limited) understanding, the core of most strict matrilineal arguments are 1) we've always done it this way post reception of the Torah 2) it was the only way to ensure someone was Jewish and 3) there are inherent attributes to mothers/the feminine that Rabbis argue are metaphysical and important to consider.

But it depends on how you write omegas. Are they defined by their ability to birth? Are they dual sex or single sex? Do they have the ability to sire offspring in addition to carrying them? Do they serve a "motherly" role in addition to giving birth? All things to consider.

Me personally, I'm a big proponent of accepting all Jews as they are, as long as they're not proselytizing or cosplaying as Jewish from another religion. It's a closed practice but we're also dwindling in number, so turning away people because their father was Jewish and not their mother is bizarre to me. Especially if they were raised in the religion -- at that point it's a technicality, but many rabbis will still make you go through a conversion which is wild to me.

I would throw out there, for the sake of omegaverse -- if the carrier is Jewish, generally, in most cases, the pups are Jewish. That makes sense to me.

[critter-ghosting-some-tricks]

Maybe ghost trick spoils ahead but heres a post for @alto-tenure's prompt "Lynne and Memry swap with Jowd and Cabanela AU" given for @fyeahghosttrick's Ghost Swap 2024

I’ll be completely honest here- I did NOT expect this prompt to make my brain pop off but when I read through the prompts the first time I hesitated on this one to think for a second about “how would that work?” And boom- my first ghost-swap entry, my first attempt even vaguely trying to emanate another artstyle in a long time and a multitude of files. Enjoy it though, obviously. 

Anywhere here’s my thoughts on this version:

I’m well aware of the fact that it’s possible that the prompt meant to simply swap Memry and Lynne with Cabanela and Jowd cleanly and not change the story much but my brain couldn’t figure it out or get that version to care. 

So first things first is who I swapped with who. As you can see I put Lynne in Jowd’s place and Memry in Cabanela’s place. At first I wasn’t sure about it because it’s hard to imagine Lynne as depressed as Jowd is but it just makes sense to me. I mean- Jowd is Lynne’s hero, Lynne and Jowd already share many similarities due to this and Lynne would still be a target for Yomiel. Mostly, though, the decision was made because of the similarities I realized Memry and Cabanela have- namely determination and how weirdly others view them. 

As for other characters and story beats I admit I had a very tricky time deciding who the new Lynne would be (while Memry could admittedly be replaced by any rooky detective. However I think I have something I’m somewhat happy with where it’s basically that the revenge and Temsik plot gets delayed for some reason (including the part about Alma) and a different Kamila attraction ends up killing Jowd and Lynne is the one to walk in and turn herself in. She (very foolishly) connects the mysterious fortune to the mysterious death that happened to the man that kidnapped her. Cabanela leaves the industry (or takes a break from it at least) after Jowd dies and ends up working with Pigeon man for some reason. Then he maybe takes over when Pigeon man moves away? I’m not sure where Cabanela would really be tbh but that makes some sense to me at least. That or he does just swap with Memry and is lower than he ever would have been in the social ladder because of taking a break and losing drive without Jowd.

 When the night of the game takes place I’m still not entirely sure who takes Lynne’s place but I think it would be neat if it was Alma, trying to make sure the actual killer of her husband gets caught when she doesn’t think Lynne did it (plus then the Lynne character and Kamila still live together). Also, before Jowd’s death Kamila and Kynne grow close faster than canonly so that her absence allows them to still care for each other so deeply. Lynne managed to become Kamila’s hero at that time and basically a daughter to Alma as well as Jowd. To be fair there’s also longer for them to have known eachother since, as previously stated, it all would have to occur later so that Memry and Lynne could have been close detective partners before Jowd dies. 

But why would Yomiel still go to frame Alma for murdering him when she wasn’t at the park and Jowd is dead? Well, I think he would think that having Alma and Lynne in jail would make Jowd roll in his grave. 

Or alternatively Kamila could be the new Lynne and Alma is on some sort of work trip and Amalie really is kidnapped but I don’t like that and Yomiel framing her would still just be to hurt Lynne and Jowd’s spirit. 

But anyways, other than that plot is very similar to the normal game. Memry (who would have also gotten close to Alma and/or Kamila through Lynne and working on her case+ working with Cabanela /pigeon man) rises the ranks and takes the path of the white coat because she knows that Lynne never would have killed the person she looked up to and loved so much. Lynne learns to paint and eventually learns to actually blame herself for things that aren’t her fault. They reunite outside of the prison and learn about what really happened from the Justice Minister. Lynne, Missile, Sissle and Yomiel go back in time and fix everything. You know the drill. 

A few small but specific things that I imagine changing are

Memry rollerskates everywhere instead of dancing and people remark about how nobody “gets from place to place” the way she does and she’s seen as an “odd girl”. 

Bugs are used more frequently in the plot and in how Memry rises through the ranks and figures stuff like point X out. 

Lynne doesn’t paint portraits but is more abstract. She also doesn’t remember what Yomiel looks like, just his colors and voice. 

Lynne is just as adored by everyone who talks about her as Jowd is so that doesn’t change but instead of people calling her their hero, words such as “she was always such a ray of sunshine in the force” are used. 

And maybe I’ll think of more but for now that’s all I feel like writing on it that I don’t think are covered by the art. Thanks for dealing with this rambling- I hope you enjoy my take on this prompt!

[missjomarch]

Plz write me the fluffiest Nico you can!

✨ imagine ✨ like sick cuddles or sleepy morning smooches and falling back to sleep 🥰

No because I was so sick last weekend and my own personal Nico Hischier definitely would've fixed me right up. Using my favorite ladylooch trademark Nico nickname (sweets) in honor of you requesting this.

You felt fine when you left for work this morning, but as the day progressed the pounding in your head and the aches in your body only got worse. All it took was one look from your boss and you were being sent home to rest.

The drive to the house was only 10 minutes, but you honestly weren't sure you'd make it. You were completely out of it. It hadn't even occurred to you that you should probably text Nico, your boyfriend, that you had left work early and were headed home.

You left all of your work things in the car, barely managing to drag your own self up the stairs to the front door. When you opened the door, Nico was folding laundry on the couch. The domesticity of the action would've warmed your heart had you not been actively fighting a wave of nausea. His head whipped in your direction, clearly not expecting anyone to be entering his house unannounced at this time of day.

Confusion washed over his features when his eyes found you standing in the door way, and he picked up his phone to check the time. When he confirmed that 5 o'clock hadn't magically arrived without his notice, he returned his gaze to you.

"Babe? What're you doing home so early?" He's making his way towards you as he's speaking. You take two steps forward before deciding that it might be best to just let him come to you. A look of concern is growing on his face as he nears you, but he chooses not to mention your pallid complexion. Instead he wraps you in his arms, placing soft kisses to your hairline.

"Work sent me home, don't feel good," You manage to mumble.

"What's wrong, baby?" His chest rumbles as he speaks, lulling you momentarily. You close your eyes against the spinning room, willing the nausea to stop. Bad idea. Suddenly your yanking out of Nico's hold and sprinting to the half bath down the hallway.

You barely make it to the toilet before you're emptying your stomach. Apparently Nico wasn't far behind you because you can soon feel his hands pulling your hair back.

"Let it out, baby," he soothes, hand rubbing comforting circles on your back. When you're done, Nico leaves your side for a moment only to return with a cold washcloth. You take it from him and press it to your face, the coolness alleviating some of your discomfort.

"Sorry," you mumble, not exactly sure what you're apologizing for. You just know you don't love the idea of your boyfriend watching you hurl your guts up.

Nico shakes his head, "don't apologize. If I knew you didn't feel good I would've picked you up from work."

"I just thought I had a headache."

"Do you feel better now?" Nico's hand returned to tracing shapes on your back.

"Nope." Your stomach was still churning, your head was still pounding, and you still felt like you were on the verge of puking. You felt Nico place a soft kiss to the top of your head before watching him leave the bathroom again, mumbling that he'd be back in 2 minutes. Halfway through those two minutes you were vomiting again, and Nico came rushing back to the bathroom.

"Breathe, sweets." Nico coaxed as you gasped.

"Okay, now I feel a bit better." You sighed once you were done.

"Let's go lay down, yeah?" You nodded, wanting nothing more than to pass out in Nico's hold. He helped you get cleaned up before carrying you to your shared bedroom. He had already moved a plastic trashcan beside the bed and a new washcloth and water bottle were waiting on the nightstand.

Nico was sat against the headboard with you between his legs. The position kept you mostly upright in an attempt to keep the sickness at bay. Nico's right arm wrapped around your waist while his other hand ran through your hair.

"Thank you," you whispered, "I know this is gross." You could hear Nico's scoff lightly at your comment.

"You, my love, could never be gross. I just want to make you feel better." Your heart warmed at his genuine disheartened tone, clearly upset he couldn't magically cure your illness. Though you had no doubt he'd be the first to attempt it if he had the means.

"I love you, Hisch." The sentiment is mumbled, but Nico hears it loud and clear.

"I love you more, sweets. Get some rest."

[snake-and-mouse]

Regarding the issues surrounding the Kindergarten Mafia discord server, a large fandom server mostly dedicated to the kinnporsche fandom. It is an issue that encompasses multiple events and many other people have been hurt who I do not want to speak for, so this will not be the full picture, just a part of my part. If anyone reads this and has questions, they can reach out to me.

I am Will/Logan, also known as Sweet-William in fanfic circles, and I am not making this post because I have a vendetta, or to be malicious, as some of my previous actions have been called by the moderators of the server. I am making it because I have the right to speak on my experiences (as others I hope will speak up and share theirs, now that they know they are not alone), and because I want to warn people so what happened to me does not happen to them.

I am also making this post because @accal1a aka Hann the admin of the server has refused to delete content created by myself and many of my friends from the server, all of who left because they like me felt unsafe. The original request was sent by proxy as Hann has me blocked, and though they said they would unblock me so we could discuss it, they never did. As a writer I take it seriously when my work, and also details of my personal life, are taken. When I even offered to go through and delete it all myself if temporarily given access to the server, my messages were completely ignored.

The server is not a safe place for people of colour. It is not a place safe from racism, or xenophobia, and its leadership has historically been and continues to this day, to perpetuate racism in fandom spaces and shelter people who have hurt others with no real repercussions, accountability, or transparency.

The original issue was the result of this conversation between myself and Rachael, one of the moderators. I earlier stepped into a conversation where several microaggressions occurred regarding native american culture. As a Native, it was my right to speak up.

After this conversation I was urged to bring the issue directly to Hann, and from there the issues spiralled out of control. Hann originally was very supportive, and we became what I thought to be close friends. They made many reassurances Rachael would be held accountable, and changes would be made to the server to make it a safer place for pocs.

Rachael was never actually held accountable. Even when it came to light she had messaged me to issue the warning while lying to the rest of the mod team that she had "checked in on me" to see if I was alright after the incident. This was not the only time she secretly issued warnings to people, usually to defend her friends.

She was "demoted" but in actuality, the entire mod team was restructured and she simply was not on the top rung. Over the next two months many things happened, most of which are not my story to tell, and then it came to light Rachael had even further lied and never issued any warning or otherwise spoke to the person originally being racist in a mod capacity, this person being her friend, and refused to show what messages she did actially send.

To avoid any punishment she tried to "step down" as a mod before a choice could be made. And this was allowed. She was allowed to step down and continue to be in the server with no one knowing the actual story or that she couldn't be trusted and had abused her position.

After an incredibly vague statement was posted by the mod team regarding Rachael no longer being a mod, I broke and posted the conversation publicly and laid out the actual events. This was met with an overwhelming negative backlash, where it became clear to me this was a community where I was not safe, and any poc speaking up and calling for accountability would be seen as malicious and rocking the boat unnecessarily, while the moderators just watched on in silence.

The few moderators who were advocating for the poc server members were promptly fired, and though at one point a timeline vaguely outlining the events was posted, it and all evidence of what happened to me has since been deleted. And while Rachael originally left saying I was obviously trying to run her off the server, she has already returned at the urging of Hann.

Protecting people of colour and standing up to racism and xenophobia was never a priority in the kingergarten mafia server. And now that Hann has escalated to stealing work from people of colour that they have absolutely no right to, I am speaking up.

Respect us, be an ally, or face the consequences of what your community looks like with us gone.

[azullumi]

fatui!scara with a son and his wife? (req)

summary — he had never thought that he would come to that part in his life wherein he has something he wishes to protect more than his heart, more than the ambitions that he hold.

pairing — wanderer or scaramouche/female!reader

tags — fluff, established relationship, domestic life ; headcanons

words — 714

note — hellooooo it seems like my schedule of uploading 1 fic each day is going to be delayed or put on pause for like a few weeks because im in a cultural performance for our school :DD anyways! here, i hope you'll like this anon!

Scaramouche had never thought once in his life that he will be looking forward to something at the end of the day, to have himself giddy and anxious throughout the whole time as he accomplishes his missions or sits behind his desk to do whatever paper he was given. He had never thought that he would come to that part in his life wherein he has something he wishes to protect more than his heart, more than the ambitions that he hold. he had never expected any of your arrival along with a child who has your looks and his personality.

Due to his demanding and busy schedule, usually having to accomplish tasks and missions given to him by the Tsaritsa, you rarely see him come home early and it is only on events that occur once in a blue moon that he will do so. If you ever try to stay up late in order to wait for him, however, he will scold you even if deep down he feels happy. It worries him seeing your tired state, eyes trying to stay open and body threatening to relax to sleep, and it makes him wonder how much you pushed yourself just so you could greet him once he comes home.

Although you frequently sleep with nobody by your side, you wake up with him beside you—either awake and watching you or also still asleep and trying to catch up on the rest that he needs. Occasionally, your son would also join in the bed and would be sleeping in between you two, cuddled and cradled, and when you and Scaramouche are already awake while he’s still unconscious, you’ll stay in bed a little bit longer and talk to each other quietly. It is in those peaceful moments shared in the morning that he forgets all his worries and problems.

He is usually exhausted from his work so he prefers spending time with you sleeping in bed or doing anything together that doesn’t require that much energy. He spends some of his time watching over his son and teaching him about all the things that he has to know, although majority of the time he comes off as intimidating due to his nature and personality—you have to tell him what to do to not scare his own child and to build a proper bond with him because after all, he’s a little bit clumsy and unfamiliar with such relationships and manners.

Even if he’s always away, he tries to always be there especially for his child. He makes an effort through sending letters, buying souvenirs and gifts he got from his trips, spending time with you all as much as possible once he comes home, and many more.

When he’s on his day off or break, he’ll take everyone out to spend time together—mostly in places that don't have that many people as he doesn’t wish for anyone to disturb the only time that he gets to have with his loved ones. Although if you insist and you plead for the three of you to go to a festival or event together, he’ll eventually give in but then of course, he’ll always be on his guard and have people on stand-by on each corner in case something happens. He just can’t afford being too careless.

In order to protect his family, he keeps the fact that he has a family—a wife and a son—as a secret and only close and trusted people know it. After all, he’s a Fatui Harbinger and it’s not uncommon for him to not have enemies so for his beloved ones to be safe, he’ll keep your existences in the dark and have people guarding you at all times when he’s away due to his work.

Oftentimes, he stays up all night while you’re asleep and his child is sleeping beside him and he wonders, thinking and contemplating, if he really deserved to have this kind of happiness after all the misery that he had. You were an escape to his problems, the peace to each of the conflicts that he has, bringing an illusion of serenity to his living of chaos and turmoil and if ever something happens to either of you two, he’ll gladly burn with his hands.

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.

[khaire-traveler]

what are ways to connect with hermes as a psychopomp/chthonic deity? aside from like when an actual death occurs. im realizing i never really have, but id like to!

Hey, Nonny, great question! I don't often see interest in this topic.

A big part of honoring Hermes' Chthonic aspects, from what I have seen, has actually been honoring the dead themselves. During the celebration of the last day of Anthesteria, for example, offerings were given to both Hermes and the souls of the dead, honoring them alongside each other. A specific food offering, called koliva, was given on that day.

With this knowledge, a good way to honor Hermes Chthonios/Psychopompos would be honoring the dead. Doing such things as visiting a loved one's grave, leaving flowers at graves (with permission, of course), and even interacting with ancestors can be ways of connecting with him more. I think another great way of devoting to him is showing kindness and respect to your fellow human. While this can be for Ouranic Hermes as well, I think having compassion to others (not at the expense of yourself) is still a great devotional act to Chthonic Hermes. As a Psychopomp, I'd have to imagine he has to be pretty compassionate towards the souls of the dead to effectively do his job. I'm sure he's helped terrified souls, furious souls, and confused souls cross the threshold into the afterlife, so practicing that same kindness towards others in your life is a great devotional act. Help life be easier and more enjoyable for one another. :) Simply working to enjoy your life can also be good. Trying things you've always wanted to try, engaging in activities that make you happy, volunteering for causes you care about - such activities could all be dedicated to him. Enjoying the life you currently have is an underrated form of devotion, in my opinion, and it's something I've found Hermes likes a lot (he's even actively helping me with it).

Something I like to do to as well is engage with media that discusses death. Two movies I recommend watching with Hermes Chthonios would be Puss in Boots & The Last Wish and Coco (I know Coco is a different culture, but the way it approaches the topic of death is very nice, I think). Also, media like Ask A Mortician on YouTube works because it engages your curiosity - a trait Hermes seems to value - and helps resolve any fears you may have towards death/educates you on the topic.

As for offerings to give to that aspect of Hermes, I would say incense that reminds you of his specific energy is a good option. You can give him classic scents he normally likes as well, such as frankincense, lavender, and myrrh. Black gemstones or rocks make a good offering as well; I'm personally a big fan of black tourmaline to represent Chthonic deities. Dedicating the tarot card Death to him from one of your decks (if any) could be good. Speaking of, any art you make of him works perfectly. In ancient Greece, butterflies were thought to be the souls of the dead, so butterfly imagery would be great, too. Giving him drink offerings such as black coffee, warm milk with honey and cinnamon, and lavender tea would work. Maybe also dedicating water placed under a new moon (I would specifically give it to him at night). A reminder that these are mostly based on UPG (some are historical)!

If anyone else has more suggestions, please feel free to share!

I hope this helps a bit. I hope you enjoy connecting with Hermes on that Chthonic level. Good luck to you, and have a good day/night. <3

[exhausted-archivist]

A really interesting article from EuroGamer talking about map making in fantasy, but specifically Dragon Age, was released yesterday.

I've found it really interesting to hear from map makers of games and fantasy but also Gaider talking about how the Thedas map was made. I will probably break this down later because I have a lot of thoughts.

I'll include the maps below the cut. These are photo copied maps that Gaider made to map out the history of Thedas. Strongly recommend reading the article to hear the thought process that he shared.

It was also shared that while he did these maps, the final map we're all so familiar with was done by an artist without his input. To quote:

Some things bother David Gaider about the Dragon Age 1 map, still, and they occurred when artists prettied his sketches without his involvement. "Oh," he said awkwardly when they were presented to him. "I didn't want it to look like this, exactly." He says they added a lot more rivers and mountains, and flipping between his sketches and the Dragon Age: Origins map, you can see some have moved around, or gained prominence, and places like Redcliffe have shifted. Apparently people would take to the BioWare forums after the game came out to complain about the map's geography. "And I'm like, 'You know what? You got a point,'" Gaider says. This is mostly anger at himself, though, for not doing more about it. Similarly, he wishes he'd been able to sit down with artists and work out what the rest of the continent you don't see in his sketches looked like, so they didn't have to have "the continent just keeps going..."-like messages at the edge of it. "But to where?" Gaider says.

[babybulls15]

(Carlos Sainz Jr./Max Verstappen, 1.4k, rated G, 1/1)

(Pre-Relationship, Feelings Realization, Max Verstappen Needs a Hug, Max Verstappen Gets a Hug, thats it, thats the fic)

Summary:

I didn't know where else to go.

Read it on Ao3 or below. :))

(This was written for Day 1 of the All Ships Ship Week 2024 run by @ficwip for the prompt "I didn't know where else to go".

I've been working on it for a while and I am very very happy with the way it turned out! It's technically part 1 of a series inspired by the prompt, because I had so many ideas that I would love to put to paper and share with you!

Until then, I hope you enjoy my take on the prompt and I’d love to hear your thoughts! <33)

---

Carlos’ Driver’s room – 2015

“I didn’t know where else to go.”

Max sounds nervous, unsure.

It’s very disorienting. Very different from how he usually sounds.

Not that Carlos would be a fitting judge of that. They barely know each other.

Sure, they’ve been teammates for half a year now. And sure, they've spent a lot of that time basically living in each other's pockets - becoming friends even. But just because you’re frequently around someone doesn’t necessarily mean you know them.

You certainly know things about them. Carlos knows a lot of things about Max. Max knows a lot of things about Carlos. Inconsequential stuff - favourite foods, TV shows, ice cream flavours, the works.

(They’ve had a lot of downtime, which meant lots of opportunities to play dumb icebreaker games, when neither of them wanted to pretend to be busy on their phone.)

And yet, to Carlos, most of the Max Verstappen jigsaw in his head is still just a bunch of 2- or 3-piece clumps that he has no idea how to fit into the bigger picture.

I didn’t know where else to go.

Carlos knows how Max sounds when he’s in work-mode. How he talks in briefs and de-briefs, on the radio, in interviews and even those silly PR-videos the team makes them do.

There’s a certain harshness to his voice, that makes him sound almost angry at times - even when he’s just stating facts. (It gets him in trouble sometimes, but mostly seems to work well as a deflector. To keep all the drama at a distance.)

The thing is, most people only encounter Max in work-mode. So it’s easy for them to get the impression, that that’s just how he always sounds – how he always is – and put him into a corner because of it.

But Carlos has also heard how Max sounds when he talks to his family.

The harshness is still there – most likely an integral part of any version of him - but it’s not as pronounced. Instead it’s almost overshadowed by something Carlos can’t quite figure out. Something that continuously betrays his annoyed teenager exterior, revealing the fondness he has for the people closest to him with every word he speaks.

He’s never heard him sound like this though.

I didn’t know where else to go.

Carlos had expected a lot of things to happen this year. Had thought through all kinds of possible routes the season and the relationship with his teammate could take. Had talked about it at length with his father as well.

At no point had any of what he is currently faced with even crossed his mind in passing – meaning Carlos is not prepared for this in the slightest.

(Then again, where would a precedent for Max Verstappen breaking down and somehow seeing Carlos’ driver’s room as his only refuge even come from?)

And yet, here they are – Max curled up on the couch, sounding like he might burst into tears in the next five seconds and Carlos standing awkwardly in the doorway of his own driver’s room, utterly out of his depth.

His head is filled with questions. Most of them variations of What happened?, What do you need? and What the fuck happened?. The timespan between them parting ways after the de-brief and now seems to small for any earth-shattering event to occur.

But apparently it has.

Max is looking at Carlos, eyes filled with the same nervousness and uncertainty as his voice.He is looking at Carlos, like his world really is lying at his feet, broken into a million pieces. Like he has reached his absolute limit and can’t puzzle it back together by himself. But also like he isn’t entirely sure if Carlos would be willing to help him with it. Like he thinks that there’s a possibility his teammate – his friend – will actually kick him out in a state like this.

I didn’t know where else to go.

Realizing what his prolonged stunned silence probably looks like to Max, every question about What, When, Who is flying out of Carlos’ head and he finally manages to push through his shock and into action.

Usually, mostly due to Carlos’ own tendencies, physical contact is not uncommon between them. But he has no idea where Max’s boundaries lie when he’s this upset.

So, as he crosses the distance to the couch and sits down next to his teammate, Carlos makes sure to leave a moderate gap between them.

Just to be safe. Even though everything in him screams with the urge to just hug Max and hope it makes everything okay again.

His caution proves unnecessary, when not 3 seconds later, Carlos is hit with an armful of sobbing Dutchman, clinging to him like his teammate is the only thing tethering him to earth.

Mind still blanking on anything even remotely helpful to say, Carlos settles on simply giving in to his instincts and wrapping his arms around the younger man, gently rubbing his back.

When, after a few minutes, the sobs gradually simmer down to sniffles, Carlos is glad that it seems to be enough for now. That even though he has no idea how to go about this, he still managed to help somewhat.

It surprises Carlos a little bit, when Max relaxes more into his hold the longer it goes on and doesn’t make any move to pull away. To get away. He’d expected at least a little bit of that typical teenage embarrassment over having emotions, but, his initial fears assuaged, Max seems to trust Carlos enough to just let himself fall and be held.

The sniffles become fewer and more far between until Max’s breathing completely evens out. With no small amount of satisfaction does Carlos notice, that the younger man has fallen asleep in his arms.

It helps Carlos relax a bit as well – finally having at least a hint of an idea on how to manoeuvrer this uncharted territory in their relationship. If all Max needs is a safe place to land after whatever happened, it’s reassuring to know that he considers Carlos as such.

I didn’t know where else to go.

Carlos has no idea how long they’ve been sitting like this – Max fast asleep in his arms,  Carlos gently drawing patterns onto his back – when he realises that, if a situation like this arose for himself, he wouldn’t hesitate to do the same.

That he too would feel comfortable enough with his teammate – his friend – to let himself be comforted. That he too would trust Max to hold him up when he couldn't do it himself.

This line of thinking seems so far removed from the way Carlos has seen their relationship up until this point and also how he usually thinks about his more casual, circumstantial relationships. Extremely far.

Maybe Carlos has been fooling himself. Maybe it’s impossible to spend as much time together as they have over the last few weeks alone and not grow close enough to trust each other like this. Maybe he just didn’t want to admit that he’s grown quite fond of his teammate. Because maybe, whatever is happening between them is starting to feel unlike anything else Carlos has ever experienced with a friend.

It’s very disorienting.

Especially since the whole thing seems to only be a surprise to his conscious brain.

There’s no tension in his body at their closeness, his limbs oddly calm and comfortable about it all. No subconscious urge to find a way to end it either. Everything about their embrace feels like it could go on forever and all of Carlos would be content with that.

Like it’s been this way for a while. Like Max and him having a connection that goes a bit deeper than just casual friendship is not even yesterday’s news, but last month’s. Like most of him has just been waiting for the last few bits to finally get with the program.

I didn’t know where else to go.

Carlos knows there's a lot to unpack here.

He should probably ask Max what happened. What got him so freaked out on a race weekend, that objectively hadn’t been a complete disaster.

He should probably also figure out what else he has missed in their relationship. And what that means exactly.

But with Max breathing evenly against his chest - a warm and calming weight on top of Carlos, slowly pulling him to sleep as well - he thinks it’s probably best to leave everything tied up for just a little bit longer.

[right-there-ride-on]

For me the key to understanding SBR was to read it as a narrative instead of a jojo part. I feel like with the rest of jojo you can almost read each part as less as a narrative and more as a series of fights with a loosely connected story. When I first read Part 7, I was reading it through the same lens I do other parts; namely, the story occurs around the fights. What I mean is that I feel with most of the previous parts, the story was a vehicle for the fights, not the other way around.

It’s easy to say SBR is a fresh start / reboot but I think I just so strongly associated it with the rest of jjba that it took forever to me feel like I actually ‘got it’. With other jojo parts I feel most everything is surface-level (I don’t mean this in the bad way, just that, like the rest of the series, it’s very ‘in your face’). But Part 7 is unique to me in that it’s a narrative where I can keep digging and finding new things.

All this to say that it took me several re-reads to feel like I actually caught on to some of the subtext and other things going on. For example, while there’s blatant references to religion throughout SBR, I hadn’t realized how ingrained it was in the story proper until I went back and did the religious analysis of the text, which in turn better informed my understanding of the characters. So much flies over your head the first time you read it. For another example, it took a lot of time and revisiting the text for me to even begin understanding the True Man’s World, and I hadn’t even thought to seriously consider the cultural context of SBR’s setting until someone else pointed out how Ringo’s ideas would have tied in with Jeffersonian rhetoric about American Individualism. Maybe that was my problem: I wasn’t taking SBR on its own terms, and frankly I think I might have dismissed a lot of what Araki was trying to say with this piece by considering as Part 7 instead of Steel Ball Run.

Parts 1-6 are very enjoyable for what they are, but to be quite honest I don’t think they had a larger message besides fate and possibly abuse of power. They had themes, obviously - family and legacy as an overarching one; love comes to mind for Part 1, friendship for Part 2, the journey / friendship for Part 3, etc - but I don’t think Araki had something he was trying to say with them. He wrote Parts 1-6 because he had ideas he wanted to express, and most of those were action-oriented stand battles. That’s not a bad thing, it’s just an observation. The story functioned around the stand battles.

In contrast, with SBR I feel the fights are part of the story, and help inform the greater whole. Lucy’s whole character, as a non-combatant who does important things to keep the plot moving, reflects this change in approach. Sugar Mountain is dedicated to highlighting Gyro and Johnny’s evolving relationship. Compare Bohemian Rhapsody with Diego & Hot Pants vs Valentine. As a narrative SBR demands consideration of values and reflection on what we hold important. It encourages you to think deeply and pull it apart to see what it’s trying to say.

Again, this isn’t to dismiss any of the other Parts, and in no way is this an attack on them. Furthermore, SBR is longer and was afforded a monthly publishing timescale; perhaps there’s an argument for Araki simply having more time to do things. However, I also think the comment from Araki about feeling as though he’d hit his creative limit with Part 6 is reflective on his mindset at the time of writing Stone Ocean. Steel Ball Run was his chance to start fresh as a more experienced writer with a message he wanted to share.

This post is mostly just a reflection for how I want to approach other works in the future.

[cepheustarot]

How can you improve your relationship with the person you are thinking about?

Attention! This reading is for entertainment purposes only. This tarot reading does not give a 100% guarantee that all the described situations will occur or being ultimate truth. You build your own life and destiny and only you know yourself best.

Paid readings

Pick a pile. Choose one or more pictures. Trust your intuition.

Pile 1: As I see here, some of you threw yourself into work, study, other activities and, accordingly, spending time with this person has decreased, while this situation has been going on for a long time. And if earlier a person actively participated in a dialogue with you, willingly told you about himself, his news, now his interest is gradually fading. He behaves quite aloof, sometimes cold, can be taciturn with you and make do with general phrases without going into the details of his story. 

How can it be improved? Here I will immediately note that both of you are worried about this situation, you are sad that everything has turned out this way and communication is difficult, for you it is not the same as before and some of you may miss the times when you were close and closely communicated. The cards give advice to talk to this person on this topic and if it didn't work out the first time, then try again, but here focus on your feelings, share your thoughts with the person. You can also offer a person your help, help him deal with some issues or cases, but moral support will also be appropriate, and the person will appreciate your kindness and care.

Pile 2:  Most likely, this option was chosen by those who have a difficult situation in a love relationship with a loved person. Here your romantic interactions have come to naught, you both do not feel the same passion and spark, the same feelings, and everyone is now fixated on himself. This situation feels like the weight of the world on your shoulders. You can also do something alone to improve your relationship, and in response you do not get what you expected, there is no initiative from your partner. 

How to improve? You could have been too soft and kind with your partner for a long time, and he could also ignore your requests, because he knew that you would forgive him many things. Here, the cards advise you to show your nature, you are strong in yourself, you can stand up for yourself, if necessary, you can really put a person in his place. And here it will be best to show your character, show yourself on the other side, express the things that bother you. Of course, a person may not expect this from you and be very surprised, but in the end he will listen to your words and take the initiative, at least offer several options on how to cope with your current situation.

Pile 3: The person showed great interest in you, he genuinely liked spending time with you, talking about everything, and he could openly talk to you about it, he really is very comfortable with you. But over time, his interest began to fade, he began to behave uninterested, coldly with you, could ignore your messages for several days, could just read and not respond to them, could deal with you in general phrases when talking, answer briefly. 

How to improve? Most likely, he is behaving this way now because he wants to see how you will behave with him, he believes that the initiative was mostly on his part and now he is waiting for your actions. He is still interested in you and your relationship, he is still comfortable with you and wants to spend time with you, but again, he is waiting for action on your part. Perhaps you are not an emotional person by yourself and are not used to talking about your emotions, so he thought that you did not share his feelings. Here the cards tell you to act and take the initiative, try to at least also tell about your emotions from communicating with this person.

Thank you for reading! I will be glad of any feedback 🖤