#thank you for your wise words fishy

[blitheringbongus]

Probably,,,

you should probably go to bed

[tiedyeflannels]

Never Let You Go

Park Jimin x reader

Pt.1 | Pt. 2 | Pt. 3 - Masterlist

Word Count: 1.4k

Genre: Angst to Fluff

A/N: Here's the last part! Sorry it took so long, but I hope you enjoy!

6 months. 6 months felt like nothing after returning from the US. Jin and Hobi were busy doing their own things like promotions, content for ARMY, writing and producing songs, and a frickin’ WORLD TOUR. So… Things got busy real quick since I came back, but it’s been a blast!

And now, it’s June and the rest of the members were scheduled to come back from their service soon. We (Jin, Hobi, and I) had already picked up Namjoon and Tae, but when I asked when the others were getting out, they refused to answer me which led to today…

“You promised me that we would get food and that’s what I’m expecting,” I said, crossing my arms and glaring at the members currently sitting in front of me in van. I slumped against the third-row seat of the van as I watched a couple of them smile. It was something that set me ill at ease.

“We will, we just need to stop somewhere first,” Jin said, prompting me to sigh and look out the window. I looked around at the buildings, when something caught my eye.

“You have to be kidding me,” I mumbled under my breath as we stopped by the gate to a military base. “I knew something fishy was happening when you didn’t tell me when the others were getting released.”

Tae snickered as they all started to undo their seatbelts and got out of the car, making me do the same.

“We knew that you wouldn’t have come if we didn’t,” Jin nudged me as we walked through the gate and to an open area with a few other families who were waiting for their sons too. 

“You’re not wrong about that,” I muttered, crossing my arms. I watched as the surrounding families talked excitedly with one another before doubts started to creep in my head.

Should I even be here? What if…

“What if I make things awkward by being here?”

What if he doesn’t want me… here?

“Now, why would that happen,” Namjoon asked, making me turn toward him. 

“Yeah,” Hobi started, “If anything, he should be the one that’s awkward. You did everything you could so you could mend the situation, and he ghosted you. It’s his fault, not yours, so keep your chin up!”

I sent a small smile his way as a thanks, but I still couldn’t shake the nervous feeling in my gut. 

“I’m still nervous though.”

“And that’s okay,” Tae smiled and put a hand on my shoulder reassuringly. “You haven’t seen or talked to him in 2 years, it’s normal to feel nervous, but don’t feel that way just because he might be mad that you’re here. Jungkook is getting released today, so if he asks why you’re here, just say you’re here to support Jk!”

I squinted at Tae with a sly smile, “When did you get so wise?”

He chuckled and was about to say something before someone beat him to it, “It was all that time at the super cool base of his.”

We all turned to the voice and watched as Jungkook happily made his way over to us. 

“Jaykay~” “Jin~”

I chuckled as the youngest and oldest pulled each other into a hug. I continued to watch the others take turns hugging the youngest before it was my turn. I smiled as he turned his attention to me and scooped me into a hug, spinning us around before setting me down. 

“I missed you, Y/n/n! How was America,” he asked, giving me one last squeeze before pulling away.

“It was good! Kind of boring though, without you guys there, but I had fun,” I smiled.

“How was your time here,” I asked glancing at the building that stood a ways away from where we were.

He shrugged, “Eh. Fine, I guess. Don’t even get me started on Jimin.”

I tensed up, letting my nerves get the better of me.

“Speaking of,” Namjoon started, looking at the building Jungkook had come out of, “Where is he?”

Jk looked back, then turned to the group, “He said there was something he forgot to pack when we were starting to leave so… he should be joining us fairly soon.”

Speak of the devil and he shall appear because as soon as Jungkook finished his sentence, Jimin came walking out of the front doors. 

I peaked around Jk’s arm and watched as he made his way over to us with a relieved smile. I was technically blocked by Jungkook, so I watched as Jimin gave some of the members that approached him a hug while striking up a conversation. I smiled fondly as I watched him joke around and happily laugh with the others while he was unaware of my presence behind Jungkook.

That was until said person made his way over to Jimin, leaving me to awkwardly stand out in the open, not sure what to do. I fiddled with my fingers as the group kept on talking before Jimin took a simple glance in my direction, effectively stopping what he was saying.

Anxiety started to run through me as he just… stared at me, with a blank expression.

He dropped his bags and started to slowly make his way towards me while my mind was racing, trying to come up with an excuse as to why I was here.

I nervously chuckled when he stopped in front of me- looking everywhere but him, “Hey… Just setting the record straight; the members tricked me into co-”

Jimin hurriedly wrapped his arms around me in a tight hug and buried his head in the crook of my neck- effectively catching me by surprise and making me freeze against his touch. My brows furrowed in confusion- not sure what was going on until he muttered something that I couldn’t quite catch. I hummed in question, prompting Jimin to repeat it.

“I’m so sorry.”

My eyes widened.

“I’m so sorry that I ghosted you. That I left you wondering what you did wrong. That I let you leave without giving you an explanation.”

Tears started to wet my shoulder as he cried. I finally wrapped my arms around his torso while letting the tears that were building up silently fall down my face as he continued. 

“I read every single text you sent me when you were in the US and I should’ve texted back.”

“Why didn’t you,” I sobbed, tightly gripping the back of his shirt, “I always gave you the chance!”

“I know,” he pulled back, allowing me to see face. It was red and blotchy from the crying with tears still making their descent on his cheeks, but he still looked perfect. 

“But I didn’t think I deserved to after what I said to you,” he continued. “We were about to enlist, and I wanted to push you away because I didn’t want it to be hard for you, but that didn’t work out like I wanted…”

I let out a humorless laugh as I brought my hands to his face to wipe tears. 

“You dummy,” I gently smiled when he leaned into my touch.

“I know. That’s not an excuse and I’m really sorry. If you wanted nothing to do with me anymore; I get it. I wouldn’t want to be with me after that either.”

I shook my head. “Don’t think that! Would I have sent you a text nearly every day for two years if I didn’t want to be with you?”

“No,” he whispered.

I manually shook his head, earning a small smile.

“No, of course not! Though, you’re going to have to make it up, but I’m not that easy to let go.”

He shook his head as a fond smile graced his lips at my confession and wrapped me up in a hug again.

“I could never let you go,” he whispered, making me smile.

“Let’s go home, hmm?”

He pulled apart from the hug, looked me in the eyes and nodded, “Let’s go home.”

Bonus~

“So… how was Jimin during your service,” Jin asked Jungkook, who was accompanying the oldest in the front.

The maknae sighed, “He did great with the jobs he was given, but a lot of the time, he would talk about Y/n. He couldn’t even sleep that well.” 

Jin chuckled, “That’s funny because Y/n/n also had trouble sleeping.”

Both of them smiled and peeked toward the back row of the van where the both of you sat. You had your head on Jimin’s shoulder while he rested his on top on yours, peacefully sleeping now that both of you had each other back.

“It’s kind of funny how they won’t admit that they need each other as much as they do,” Jungkook said, facing forward again, leaving you both to catch up on some much-needed sleep.

[runawrites-blog]

Undercover Ch. 10 (Connor x Reader)

Summary: On your first day back at work, you and Connor decide to make your relationship known. (Female Reader) Warnings: Chapter 10/10. Last One. No Y/N. Petnames (Love, Sweetheart). Detective Reader. Crossposted on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62247359/chapters/159245413#workskin Previous Chapter

---

”--This case and the perpetrators’ motifs have once more sparked a conversation about the manufacturing of donor biocomponents and whose jurisdiction this would fall under after CyberLife was reformed from a place of production to one of repair. The president of the United States has been in contact with the leader of the android revolution, the RK200 Markus, to once more unravel this time-sensitive topic. Get updates on the development of this conversation right here on Channel Four.”

The next news topic faded into the background because as soon as you and Connor walked in, hand in hand, a commotion erupted from across the bullpen. You two had not made your relationship public for the past two weeks, opting to wait until the ripples caused by the case had died down and you were able to go back to work. But now that Ashley and Dave had been sentenced and you were cleared to go back to work -- albeit while working from your desk for the next few weeks -- you two felt like it was the right time to tell your coworkers and friends you were a couple. But you didn’t quite know how to breach this topic of discussion, so you’d just opted for entering the precinct as a couple on your first day back on the job.

“I knew it!”

You couldn’t help but smirk at Gavin’s enthusiastic exclamation and you watched as he hit Nines in the arm to make him look away from you and Connor. The android gave Gavin a surprisingly affectionate look before nodding his head.

“You really did, I have to admit.”

Hank leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest as you and Connor arrived at his desk. “That explains why you’ve been spending almost every other night at her flat. I know your excuse of just feeling safer that way was fishy.”

“It wasn’t an excuse. The two of us really find comfort in each others’ presence.”

“Gross.”

“Gavin, I will smack you.” You hissed at your friend and shook your head. “We were attacked and frankly, even with speaking to a therapist, I feel a little uneasy about being alone which is why Connor spends almost every night at my place right now.”

“Yeah, that and to bang you.”

Hank was the one to smack Gavin, dealing a light blow to his arm to make him stop talking. “Stop it, Reed.”

“Thank you.” Connor nodded wisely. “I had my Thirium pumped ripped from my body, so I don’t find it hard to believe that I’d find comfort in sharing the bed with someone.”

“Yeah, I bet you shared each others’ bed.”

“Can you be serious for one second?” Nines rolled his eyes at Gavin’s words. “The two of them were attacked and injured which can be traumatising even to a police officer and all you think about is sexual intercourse?”

“Fine, I’ll stop.”

“I love the fact that out of every here, you listen to Nines when he tells you to stop.” You chuckled and leaned into Connor’s side. “But I also fail to see how my sex life is any of your concern, Gavin.”

“All I’m saying is that I have to find a good robo-fucker song to set as your ringtone now.” Gavin grinned and narrowed his eyes in thought. “Maybe ‘Computer Boy’ by Poppy?”

“I did fall in love with the man of the future.”

At your joke, Gavin’s grin only grew. “You got a thing for your laptop, computer.”

“I can’t believe Gavin was right about something!”

You all looked up to find Tina approaching you and when she got to the desk she flopped down to sit on it, shaking her head at her friend who just flipped her off much to the woman’s amusement.

“But I’m happy for you two. I knew you two were getting closer and closer every time we checked in on you. It was just a matter of time until you got together.”

“I second that.” Hank said in amusement, giving Connor a teasing smile. “You two were practically fused at the hip whenever we called you.”

Gavin nodded his head in agreement. “And he gave you his jacket, you two held hands, you danced and all that romantic stuff, so I was totally expecting you two to get together. But I’m happy for you two.”

“Me, too.” Nines said with a smile, fixing Connor’s eyes. “I know you’ve been infatuated with her for the longest time.”

“Nines, don’t tell her!”

“Was that wrong of me to say? I was under the impression that it was fairly obvious since you two did start a relationship.”

“I guess you’re right, it’s pretty obvious that I love her.”

You smiled softly at that and leaned in to press a kiss on Connor’s cheek. “I love you, too.”

“That is my cue to leave!” Gavin exclaimed and made a face. “I don’t need to listen to you two confessing your love for each other.”

“Why? Because you’re jealous?”

“Why would I be jealous?”

“He has no reason to be jealous anymore.” Tina grinned and wriggled her eyebrows at Gavin, earning herself a glare from him. “It’s not like it’s a secret that you and Nines banged.”

“Not anymore.” You said in amusement, chuckling as Gavin’s face heated up and he glared at you. “Don’t act like that. You’ve been annoying Connor and me for weeks now.”

“She’s right, you know?”

Gavin rolled his eyes at Connor’s agreement. “You agreeing with her isn’t really a surprise, tin-can.”

“You think just because I love my partner that I cannot be objective, meat-bag?”

You chuckled at their bickering, leaning your head against Connor’s shoulder to which he pulled you closer to his body, his hand beginning to stroke your side. Smiling at his ministrations, you laced your fingers with his where his hand lay on your side. Connor was smiling brightly, making Hank’s lips twitch upwards, as well. Tina was still poking fun at Gavin and the man was just rolling his eyes at her, bickering back while Nines watched them with an amused smirk on his lips.

“I’m happy to be back home.” You said, looking back at Connor with a smile. “And I’m even happier that we’re in a relationship now. I really love you, Con.”

“I love you, too. I’m glad you took the first step and kissed me.”

“I guess Gavin was right, after all.”

“How so?”

“This really was like the plot of a romance novel.”

[shads-shipposts]

"Anachronism" Prologue Rough Draft +LORE✨

Remember how I mentioned that the chapters prior to this would only leave you more confused as to wtf was going on? Well, the prologue is now finished and is being posted.

The background of Anachronism is this: back in 2015 I attempted to rewrite a 2014 RP that included the Tintin sailors (which is my first fanfic ever). True Colors was the name. It was never finished, instead transitioning halfway through into an original fic where the sailors got new names/designs/backstories as they were changed into ocs. The Karaboudjan would become the Caroline, but Scarlett was already a self-insert so her initial character remains (though she's changed quite a bit). Both the original fics and the 2015 are scrubbed from the internet, though I do believe one of you followers actually read that 2014 one when it was on Deviant Art. I am so sorry you had to witness that 😬.

Jump to late 2017-early 2018, the first hints of Anachronism were forming. It wouldn't be until 2019-2020 New Years that I started it in earnest. The story follows myself (yes, I get "isekai'd") as I end up in the same timeline as that 2015 fic. Originally it was the 2014 fic but I really don't want to deal with certain elements of that mess. Anyway, that Anachronism kinda started collecting dust as my Bad Batch hyperfixation hit and Adventures!AU was born. That series takes place after Anachronism, but Anachronism was never posted.

Well, 4+ years, three and a half books, and 500k+ words later I am finally starting to post snippets to curse the world lol. Schedule-wise, Anachronism won't premiere in full until 2029 most likely, as Adventures!AU is still my main project. But I miss the Karaboudjan crew, and my hyperfixation is strong for them rn so I'm posting and working on chapters.

All that to say buckle up, this fic gets wild. Magic elements are minimal in this fic, but they still be there.

Enjoy! :D Feedback is most welcome, I'm still figuring out the characterizations for the fellas as it's been a while since I really wrote heavily with them (Bad Batch has claimed most of my time).

CW: Mild horror elements

1872 words

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

“Scared, Allan?”

It wasn’t the first time he’d found himself here after he closed his eyes. It’d been months since the incident that gave rise to the event playing over and over again in his dreams, but time hadn’t dulled any of his emotions concerning the event.

“I must say, your fear scent is… unique. Fishy and tart.”

 Confusion, horror, shock, disbelief.

“Don’t worry your little head there. I respect you and, strange as it may seem, I do find the need to fear you.”

Yes, fear there too.

“Funny ain’t it?”

And who wouldn’t be scared?

“An Alphian fearin’ a human.”

When they were faced with an alien of unknown magical abilities?

“Don’t see that every day.”

The scene wobbled and fizzled at the edges, like staring at a reflection on the surface of a stormy sea. The secrets surrounding the scene trapped deep in its depths, unreachable even if one tried their hardest to grasp the answers.

Allan Thompson walked through the scene, removed from his own actions as if he were just on autopilot. He couldn’t change the scene, no more than someone watching a reel on a screen.

He sat at the table, across from the half-human, half animal woman that watched him like a hawk. Dark stripes cut through her skin like thick shadows across a moonlit patch in the woods, a black and white tail flicked behind her, and piercing eyes the color of glaciers scanned him inside and out. She was a head shorter than him, yet power radiated off her like heat from an open flame.

His voice reached his ears, muted and distant.

His own and yet… not, in a way.

“Kid… I’m sorry about Turtle.”

The alien looked up at him, the furry ears on the sides of her head flattened against ginger hair.

“Thanks, man.”

Those cat-like eyes shifted to the side, as if searching for any other threats.

He knew it was a dream. Knew what was about to happen.

It did not ease the churning of his stomach.

“Actually,” she continued, mouth moving but voice coming from the very walls surrounding them. “I kinda wanted to ask you about something related to that.”

Allan knew what was coming. Knew what she was going to ask.

Knew how badly it would go, how swiftly the scene would turn dangerous.

But he was helpless to do anything but follow the script. Follow the events as they unfolded.

Eyes on her hands, waiting to see those thorn sharp claws, Allan again heard his voice from far away.

“Aye?”

He wished he could change course. Wished he could prevent what came next. Perhaps, if he could, then things would be different.

But no.

“Let me go after that short slaver with the dark brown hair. I want his head for orderin’ me to kill Turtle.”

There it was. The request that shattered everything. The request that would leave Allan with gaps in his memory that no amount of pondering or searching could ever fix.

He felt the shock course through his body, felt his spine stiffen and his heart skip a beat.

“I’m sorry…” he heard himself say. “But I can’t allow that.”

Ears shot up, a tail bristled, sharp teeth bared, and anger blazed in those icy eyes.

“What?”

If only he could alter his words. Explain more, explain better.

Save himself.

If only.

“I can’t allow you to kill him.”

He had dreams. He had nightmares.

This hell was something else entirely.

Pupils narrowed to slits across from him, jagged scars streaking down the table as wicked claws dug into the old wood.

“Is that your final answer?”

There was red now, deep in those eyes.

He could only watch, silently scream in his head as he fought with all his might to change the memory.

“Aye, I refuse to let you go after him.”

Futile. The scene would play out as it had many nights before this one.

The woman stood, ears low and tail lashing.

“Whose side are you on, Allan? Huh? The slavers?” A snarl curled her lip, the temperature around them plummeting as ice snaked out from her hands across the table. “How disappointin’.”

The edges of the scene corrupted, bleeding red and black.

He wanted to scream. Wanted to run. Wanted to hide.

Hide from the devastation bearing down on him like a hurricane at sea.

But there was no refuge. No escape.

“There will be another time to kill him.”

He had to witness the event that would alter his fate.

Words came faster now, a distorted echo to them that sent chills down his spine.

“But I heard the other slavers talkin’! He’s goin’ on patrol tonight! I can’t pass up this opportunity to claim revenge for what he did.”

“Look, kid. I said no, and that’s final.”

“Nobody’s gonna stand in my way. Not even you. Stand down now, Allan. I don’t want to hurt you.”

He got up.

Walked over.

“I told you no, kid! That’s an order!”

“Give it up, Allan. I’m doin’ this my way. I’m killin’ him tonight and you can’t stop me. Don’t even try to.”

He got close.

Too close.

It was over fast. She winded him with a headbutt, driving him back into the wall hard enough to knock the breath from him. He didn’t even have a chance to rise to his feet, weight pinning him to the floor. A rag clamped over his mouth and nose, drowning the world in a sickly-sweet haze.

 Darkness followed swiftly after, a growl echoing in his ears.

“You brought this on yourself. Sweet dreams.”

And those were the last words he ever heard from Scarlett Hyde.

Allan sat up in his bed with a gasp, cold sweat pouring down his face as he fought for breath.

Was that her now, hiding in the dark corner?

He flicked on the light, fingers struggling to grasp the knob.

Nothing, just his trenchcoat.

It was too hot. Too stifling.

Air.

He needed air!

Staggering to the porthole, he yanked it open and welcomed the sharp chill that rushed in. Allan leaned against the wall, eyes closed as he fought to catch his breath and sooth his racing heart.

After that fight, any and all memory of the Alphian ceased. He couldn’t even recall what happened once he woke up. Because they sure as hell didn’t go from being overrun by slavers to being back at their home port without any sign there was even a hostile force occupying the ship.

Only one man had memories of Scarlett that went past Allan’s; Tom.

His friend and trusty right-hand man. The closest person to Scarlett on the ship prior to her mysterious disappearance.

Allan hoped he could have shed some light on Scarlett. Maybe Scarlett somehow drove off all the slavers after knocking Allan out, accessing some type of beast mode or something. She was an alien, and could shapeshift, so it wasn’t entirely implausible.

But no.

Tom’s last memory of her was Scarlett heading off the ship into the woods. Tom had gone after her, only to find himself face to face with the same slaver Scarlett was after. The slaver attacked him, but Scarlett showed up in some animal form and attacked the slaver. She won the fight but was stabbed in the process. Tom tried dragging her back to the ship after she shifted back to that half-human form, but then his memory too went dark.    

That was it. The trail ended. Went cold. With no hope of recovering the fractal memories.

Maybe Scarlett was around longer, and had some alien way of wiping their memories. Why, then, did he have any memory of her at all? If she truly aimed to wipe all memory of her existence, he should have forgotten her in totality.

Instead he was left with only partial memories and no explanation that could even remotely make sense of the event.

Every port they stopped at, every contact he knew, he asked. When Scarlett Hyde rang no bells, he tried the false name she gave at first; Ice Shadow. Still nothing.

He tried her description, her species, her family, everything.

Nothing.

As if neither she nor her species even existed in the first place.

A knock sounded on his door, and Allan turned away from the window to stare at the clock by his bed.

05:00 am.

His port watch wasn’t due for another few hours, so it couldn’t have been someone calling him for that.

“Al?”

Tom. What was he doing up this early?

Passing through his dayroom, Allan opened the door and found Tom looking almost as disheveled as himself. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Tom rubbed his arm. “It… happened again.”

Allan’s eyes widened. “Scarlett.”

Tom nodded.

Allan stood to the side to let him in. “You too, huh?”

Tom straightened, looking slightly more alert as he sat on the couch in Allan’s dayroom. “Same dream?”

“What other dream would it be?” Allan growled.

Tom wasn’t put off by his tone, but then again he never was. “What are the odds, huh?” he said in a feeble attempt to lighten the mood, a weak smile accompanying the joke.

Allan wasn’t amused. “Real funny.” He leaned on the table, pushing his hair back. “This is the fifth time in two weeks,” he growled. “I do not need this. We got that proud peacock prancin’ ‘round like he owns the damn ship, orderin’ us to and fro like damn dogs. I don’t need this headache on top of it.”

“At least the captain ain’t givin’ us any issues.”

“Don’t think that old man would notice if I scuttled the damn ship,” Allan grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Probably not.” Tom tilted his head. “Don’t think the dreams mean anythin’, do ya?”

“Concurrent dreams about an alien that we both know had the power to alter dreams?” Allan said. “It’s fishy.”

“Think she’s comin’ back?”

Allan shrugged tiredly. “Hell, Tom, I don’t know.” He glared in the direction of the door. “At least Sakharine’s finally tracked down the second ship. Then we can be back at sea, and I’ll have other things to keep my mind on.”

“Yeah, can’t wait to have that guy off.” Tom shuddered. “Gives me the creeps.”

“Feelin’s mutual.” Allan stretched. “Guess I may as well get coffee, not like I’m gettin’ any more shuteye today. Want some?”

Tom nodded, stretching too. “Won’t say no.” He shuddered. “Anythin’ to keep awake after that nightmare.”

Allan understood his hesitation with going back to sleep. Tom’s dream was far worse than his, with the man being hunted down in dark woods by a slaver bent on murder. Scarlett’s animal form wasn’t exactly comforting either, Tom describing it as a large tiger-looking beast with saber teeth that was a third again the size of a normal tiger.

“Alright, I’ll be there in a minute. Maybe the cooks have somethin’ already.”

Tom nodded. “I’ll wait outside.”

As Tom left, and Allan headed back to his room, the first mate mumbled under his breath.

“I really hope it was just coincidence.” He punched the door open. “Because I cannot deal with anything else.”

[vidavalor]

Seems legit fishy to me. 😉 I've also got your shoes/cobbler/cholera thing almost set and the body of water aspect is also a part of that, as you'll see when I post it.

We don't entirely disagree about supreme archangel Aziraphale and I'll tell you why since I know you're probably like ok but vida your every third post is "he's falling, guys"... 😂

I think that there's the one level of the literal rank of the characters in Heaven but there's another level of the wordplay involved in the names of those ranks. It seems that, just as C&A are using demon/angel/fiend, etc. playfully in their alternate meanings, the overall wordplay in the series is such that the angelic and demonic ranks are ones assigned to the characters more to show what they say about those characters than anything else.

For example, the 'throne, or a dominion' is also a visual pun in S1, when Crowley goes from his throne in his flat into the other room and exercises a level of one kind of dominion over his plants. Aziraphale may well have had different ranks in Heaven over time but there's also that cherub is a word implying a sense of innocence while principality is one with an element of the first or an original. Aziraphale, character-wise is the principality-- our main character and the first angel to live the way he lives on Earth. Back in Eden, he was a bit of a cherub, in the more innocent/impressionable sense of the meaning.

Crowley also used "cherubs" to Beez in a way that seems to be more in the meaning of the word as innocent than of the actual rank of angels when he said that The Book of Life was something that the two of them made up "to frighten the cherubs." Not all the angels they teased probably were literal cherubs but they were all impressionable enough to believe the ghost story.

When people say that Aziraphale is going to be The Supreme Archangel in The Finale, they are referring to him being promoted to that position in Heaven, and that's the part that you know that I disagree with because I think we're watching Aziraphale's fall but I don't disagree with the idea that Aziraphale is a lower case supreme archangel. How so? Because what's a supreme archangel?

In terms of meaning of the actual words involved, a supreme archangel is one who is above being superior to the other angels. That's why Gabriel is The Supreme Archangel because he's also the one up there in heaven who is a supreme archangel, right? That title reflects his actual attitude, in that he doesn't see himself as superior to angelic beings (angels, demons, humans) and he rejects the ideas associated with Heaven when it comes to what they say is or is not the behaviors of an angel.

In this way? If you're an angel who is wonderfully above the definition of an angel and rebels against it, you're a supreme archangel... but... you're also something else at the same time, aren't you?

You're a demon.

So, yeah, I think Aziraphale's going to be supreme archangel alright because, while he's struggled with it, he's been a supreme archangel all along.

He's just not going to get the title because there's not going to be just the one person with it any longer. Aziraphale's fall can lead to the democratization of Heaven in the wake of overthrowing The Metatron in The Finale, which means a more equal distribution of power. It's possible that no one person will be Supreme Archangel anymore because our main ones will all be supreme archangels. It won't just be run by Heaven anymore-- the demons are going to be acknowledged as angels again. And what does Hell already have, even if it's a bit useless, thanks to Satan? The Dark Council.

The demons have something of a form of government in Hell. Sure, it's not terribly effectual lol but if the angels and the demons strike a peace accord, the existing governmental structure of Hell (minus the fact that it's run by Donal-- Satan. Run by Satan...) is the closest thing the group actually collectively has in place to a form of government that, if Satan can be taken out of the equation, honestly isn't that terrible in structure.

They struggle to actually use it effectively because they're all currently being held hostage by raging loons in Satan & The Metatron but the demons have effectively formed a system of checks and balances in Hell by having The Dark Council. It is a check on the position of The Grand Duke of Hell, who handles all the day-to-day stuff of Hell that Satan doesn't care about. It's a system that could become a functioning democracy if they get rid of Satan & The Metatron, which basically has to happen in The Finale in order for there to be the happy ending we all know is in the works.

When all is said and done, I'm not sure the position of Supreme Archangel will still exist. The closest thing to someone replacing Gabriel might actually wind up being Dagon, since she's the only one likely to remain with experience of running a form of government.

It's definitely not going to be perfect. The supernatural entities are about to form a government equivalent in irritating lunacy to the humans of the Whickber Street group passing resolutions condemning improper use of apostrophes in signs on shop windows-- but that's a happy ending. Being free to be silly and human and democratic about it is peace.

hello! i've read through a lot of your blogs and i think you've got really interesting ideas! i was wondering if you'd done something analyzing aziraphale's 'human name' and why he picked the name a. z. fell? perhaps it's got something to do with foreshadowing his fall?

Hi there! 💕 Thanks for reading & glad you're enjoying them. *puts on the tea kettle and gets the cookies*

There are two ways of looking at Aziraphale's choice of name, I think, and you mentioned both ways in your ask. One way is what the name might mean to Aziraphale-- why he chose it-- and the other is what the overall meaning of it is in the story.

In terms of the overall meaning level of his name, I think it gets into the question of what a fall is. Aziraphale's surname isn't even just Fall-- it's Fell. It's past tense. In this sense, the show is basically saying that even though Aziraphale's fall-- in the 'an angel literally falling to Hell' sense of it-- is just beginning to occur in the story, Aziraphale really fell, in other senses of the word, long ago.

He's fundamentally no different from Crowley-- something Aziraphale even says to him in the Job minisode when he says that he's a demon after lying to save the kids. He doesn't see Crowley as having ever done anything "worse" than that-- and Crowley and many others likely didn't. They asked questions. They sought knowledge.

A demon can also just mean someone who is knowledgeable about different things. In that sense, Aziraphale has always been a demon, even if he hasn't been a literal demon of Hell.

Aziraphale has always been a fallen angel by Heaven's definition and spiritually one of the demons, even if he has always still been seen by others as an angel. It gets at the idea that these definitions are all b.s. that Heaven has made up. They're all just people; they're all angelic beings walking the Earth who can be demonic in different ways-- just like the humans.

To fall, though, isn't just a literal fall or a fall from grace, like in the Heaven/Hell senses, but also other things, right? To fall in love, for instance... which then gets interesting when you consider why Aziraphale might have chosen this particular word to reflect himself.

I did a bit of a dive on thoughts about Aziraphale choosing the name Fell for himself as part of a post that is also about the fact that Crowley's distinctive signature on the Hell document when he takes the baby in 1.01 is-- rather curiously-- the very same, very unique capital letter F found in the inscription we were shown is in the front of Aziraphale's copy of Modern Magic. Why this is all the same topic will make more sense as you read it, should you be interested:

[five-rivers]

Outsider (Looking In)

Inspired by something Ashynarr said on the NWA discord. :)

.

Hitoshi didn’t think it’d be so easy.

Sure, he’d always intended to make the most of this, he wanted to win not just the match, but the whole tournament. But he’d thought he’d have to spend at least a little time working Midoriya up, getting his temper to the point of snapping, while dodging him and whatever his quirk was.

(Speaking of, Midoriya hadn’t even used it yet, as far as Hitoshi could tell. It wasn’t possible that he had some kind of subtle quirk, like Hitoshi, was it?)

Hitoshi had been prepared for a tough battle.

But then—

“What’d you say?!”

Midoriya was, apparently, ridiculously easy to bait. Hadn’t tail boy warned him?

Hitoshi felt the line connect and grabbed it, mentally pulling it taught to complete the brainwashing, and then…

… and then?

He blinked, trying to clear both his suddenly blurry vision and the ringing in his head. Had he lost time, somehow? He brought a hand up to his head, feeling unsteady.

Except, he didn’t move. Or did he?

His hand was, just slightly, transparent. He stepped backward, out of his immobile body, and stumbled sideways in shock.

“Okay, kids, don’t panic,” said an entirely unfamiliar voice.

“ARGH!” shouted Midoriya. “Who are you? Are you doing this? What’s going on? Why am I not in my body? Shinsou, I thought your quirk was brainwashing? What is this? Is this a side effect of your quirk?”

Hitoshi looked up and, sure enough, there was Midoriya somehow standing outside his body, partially surrounded by weird shadow people.

“That’s what I should be saying!” said Hitoshi. “Midnight-sensei, what is this? Who are these people? Shouldn’t you be stopping the match?”

But Midnight wasn’t looking at him. Rather, she was looking at his body, which he was not presently in.

Hitoshi was approximately two inches from a for serious mental breakdown. He was not under any circumstances supposed to be having an out of body experience in the middle of the most important day of his life (sans the entrance exam).

“She can’t see you,” said one of the shadows, who was resolving into an adult man. “She can’t see any of us. In any case, I’m not sure this violates the rules, exactly. Nana, you’re the one who actually taught here – What are you doing?”

“Trying to see if I can get Toshinori in on this, too,” said a shadow woman who was poking at a skeletal blonde man who was standing in the entranceway behind Midoriya.

“I think you’d have more luck with his ghost,” said one of the other shadows, pointing at a shadow that seemed far less put together than the others.

The first shadow pushed hair out of his face and sighed.

“So, if you can say whether or not this is against the rules, that means you know what’s happening, right?” asked Midoriya, who had his fists half up in a loose guard position and was backing away from the shadows. “Has this happened to you guys before, then?”

Right, his class had been attacked by villains, there was no reason to assume this wasn’t more of the same. Slowly, Hitoshi brought up his fists as well.

“Not exactly,” said the man. “But all things considered, I think we can chalk this up to an unusual quirk interaction. Ninth.”

Hitoshi saw Midoriya stop, mid-step, and mouth the last word. “Oh,” he said. “You’re, uh.” He looked over his shoulder at Hitoshi. “Um.”

“We are absolutely the ghosts who are haunting you as part of your quirk. Nice job last week, by the way,” said a shadow – a ghost? – who was wearing what looked like a high-necked coat. It was hard for Hitoshi to focus on them.

“Do you think we could talk to Toshinori if this kid brainwashed him.”

“Nana, this kid has a name.”

“Which we all forgot immediately,” mumbled another shadow.

“You’re really…” said Midoriya, and oh, gosh, was he tearing up? Was he crying?

He was.

“You’re really here?” finished Midoriya, finally, with a sniffle.

This was when Hitoshi regained the ability to speak. “Your quirk is that you’re haunted?”

“Uh,” said Midoriya, suddenly very shifty-eyed. “Yes?”

“It sure is!” said the ghost in the coat, giving Hitoshi a thumbs up as he put a hand on Midoriya’s shoulder. “But he couldn’t find any ghosts to haunt him for a long time, which is why he’s such a late bloomer!”

Okay, Hitoshi might not be a hero (yet) but he could tell when something smelled fishy. “You’re part of his quirk, but he’s never seen you before?”

Midoriya put his face in his hands. “I’m going to have to change my quirk registry,” he muttered.

“Hey, if his quirk was easy to understand, he wouldn’t have been a late bloomer.”

“I think your teachers are starting to become concerned,” said the first shadow… man… ghost… guy. Person dude. That guy.

“Yeah,” continued turtle neck guy, “we all used to haunt Toshinori over there, but then Izuku met him, and we figured out we could power him up, lend him our strength, but he didn’t really know we were there, so—”

“Sixth,” said one of the more taciturn shadows. “He doesn’t need to know all that.”

“You’re the one that said we needed an explanation.”

“An explanation, yes, for you to explain, no.”

“Rude.”

The first ghost sighed. “In any case, Izuku, we are with you, and we’re all very glad to have a chance to meet you.”

Midoriya nodded vehemently. “Thank you,” he said, tearfully, “for giving me the chance to become a hero. I don’t know how to—”

“You can tell Toshinori I said hi,” said the woman, who was suddenly much closer. Close enough to make Hitoshi jump.

“Okay, and, um, what’s your name? So I can tell him.”

“Nana,” she said, “Shimura Nana. Tell him… tell him I’m proud of him, okay?”

Midoriya nodded firmly. “I will,” he said.

“You know,” said Hitoshi, “this is great and all, but how do we get out of here? I want to finish this match before we’re dragged off to the nurse.”

The ‘ghosts’ (or whatever the hell they were, because Hitoshi was not buying anything they were saying) all exchanged glances.

“Have you tried,” said the first ghost, “turning off your quirk?”

Hitoshi rolled his eyes. Of course, it wasn’t going to be that simple, his quirk wasn’t even on, not really, but he might as well try—

He hit the ground with a thump.

“Ow,” he croaked, amazed and peeved at the fact that had actually worked.

“Shinsou-kun?” called Midoriya from the other side of the arena. “Are you okay?”

“What do you think?” demanded Hitoshi, picking himself up.

No answer. Darn. Midoriya had wised up – Although Hitoshi wasn’t sure he’d have wanted to risk getting kicked out of his body again even if he hadn’t.

“And after that interesting turn of events,” said Present Mic over the speaker, “the match goes on!”

Hitoshi grit his teeth. Yeah. He’d known this wouldn’t be easy.

(But, in some ways, wasn’t that what made it worth it?)

[bandaged-writer]

hi!! since requests are open- can i have jealousy hcs for dazai, ranpo, tanizaki and chuuya with an s/o who’s friendly and doesnt really catch on to flirting? :0

Dazai Osamu

➤ Dazai doesn’t get jealous easily. He trusts you all the way to his bandages and knows how long it takes you to notice that someone is flirting with you. Before the two of you became a thing, Dazai had been excessively flirting with you only and always threw compliments your way such as “Ah, those earrings really compliment the color of your eyes, belladonna!” and you’d just say “I think so, too. Thanks,” before resuming your way of life. Yosano had to tell you that Dazai was looking at you with heart eyes, trying to score a date with you for 2 weeks at that time.

➤ He watches with an amused smirk when the person flirting with you starts getting frustrated. To Dazai, it’s just funny how the person becomes more desperate and the flirting becomes blatantly obvious, yet it’s like you’re immune unless it’s Dazai that does the flirting (yes, you got better at catching his advances). Eventually, Dazai will smoothly join the scene with his hand resting on your waist and pull you close to his side.

➤ “Thank you for looking after my belladonna while I had to use the bathroom, but we’re on a date. If you’d excuse us.”

➤ However, Dazai won’t pull the playful side if the person makes you uncomfortable or uses inappropriate pick-up lines. He knows you’re just too nice to tell the person to fuck off and would rather sit through the experience than potentially anger them.

➤ You can actually see the light in his eyes fading into nothing and his voice drops an entire octave. You’d only witnessed that side of Dazai one or two times, but you will never forget the goosebumps that covered your skin. “Put those paws of yours on her and you won’t see tomorrow come.”

➤ I can see Dazai getting somewhat jealous when it’s someone you have good chemistry with and/or if there’s some kind of romantic background; like someone you’d once gone out on a date with, was partner other and such. He’d stay attached to your side all the time, but not because he doesn’t trust you; he doesn’t trust that person.

➤ While you’re happily chatting away, Dazai is extra touchy in that situation. May it be his arm around your waist, his hand on your upper thigh or gently caressing your knee underneath the table while whispering sweet nothings in your ear. Ngl, he wants to fluster you a bit, just enough for it to be visible or audible. Dazai is a little shit in that situation and wants to make the person feel uncomfortable enough to leave.

➤ “Dazai, you what-?!” You’d slap his arm and blush furiously.

➤ “I don’t like the way they looked at you, my love,” Dazai would say pouting once you’re home and proceeds to suck some purple bruises into the skin of your neck, so that they wouldn’t look at you twice, again.

➤ Can and will continue if you liked what he was doing.

Ranpo Edogawa

➤ That man protects his candy better than his own life and you’re no exception. Sharing ain’t caring and he sure as hell isn’t having it when someone flirts with who belongs to him.

➤ Unlike Dazai, he can’t just watch and immediately sweeps in to stop whatever the person was about to do with both of his arms around you or you behind him. Depends on how badly it rubs Ranpo the wrong way.

➤ Yes, Ranpo’s aware of your overly friendly side and appreciated it. Even flirting with you is fun, because it takes you some time to get it and when you do, it’s the most adorable thing. However, it’s definitely not adorable when someone else tries to gauge that reaction out of you. It’s only for Ranpo to witness.

➤ “Who the hell are you?” Ranpo would say in a tone that would give away that he’s definitely jealous but quickly sigh and stop the person from answering by waving them off. “Have you ever heard of rhetorical questions? Of course, I don’t want to know who you are.”

➤ The type to deny he’s jealous and be all whiny about your accusations until you stop teasing him about it, hold his hand and reassure him. “I really look up to you, Ranpo. My eyes are always on you,” and Ranpo would deadass lose it, because that’s what you said when it was your first time joining him for a murder case and he had told you to watch him.

➤ Gets soft real fast and admits that he just doesn’t like anyone else hitting on you, saying that jealousy is indeed a lame feeling that he’s not fond of. “But you’re beautiful so I can understand, but it’s still so meh.”

➤ Pls give him a forehead kiss. He treasures them so much more than kisses on the lips, cheek, neck, etc. To Ranpo, it’s like a pinky promise.

➤ Will proudly wrap an arm around your shoulder, pull you flush to his side and wanders off to the next ice-cream shop while making walking a bit hard. According to Ranpo, ice-cream cools down heated feelings (pun intended) and it’s a great place for him to show off who’s his.

➤ Can and will use his deduction skills on that person if they’re making you uncomfortable or trying inappropriate things on you. “Ah, I see. You’ve already harassed several people and had to go to the police. Wouldn’t it be a shame if you had to get actually arrested this time?” 

➤ Has that proud and wicked smirk on his face when the person gets scared and makes a run for it. Ranpo will still report them though.

Tanizaki Junichiro

➤ Jealousy-wise, he’s something between Ranpo and Dazai. It really depends on the circumstances, how the person approaches you and all.

➤ If the person treats you with respect and kindness, Tanizaki will quickly inform them that you’re taken by him. He understands that you’re naturally friendly and figures that it’s also the vibe you give off, so he can’t blame anyone for finding that attractive. Tanizaki is just relieved that the person was kind enough to understand the position they were in and even wished the two of you a nice day/date.

➤ Still holds your hand a little bit tighter, though. 

➤ “Wait, did you just get jealous?” It’d hit you out of nowhere once the scene replays in your head and Tanizaki would blush ever so slightly. Maybe he was a bit jealous, but not to a high extent. He’d rather call it protective. “Ah, [Name], it’s nothing like that, I promise.”

➤ Now, y’all have seen that man protecting his sister and he protects you just as much as Naomi. Once the person is creepy and fishy, it’s game over and it’s like a switch turned within him.

➤ When you get uncomfortable and feel bothered by whoever’s flirting with you, Tanizaki takes over faster than you could ask him for help. “I don’t care who you are or what you’re trying to achieve here, but bend even a hair of hers and you’ll severely regret it.” His eyes are dull, voice firm and serious as he gets his point across. 

➤ Feels genuinely jealous when you seemingly ignore him for someone else, though. None of Tanizaki’s tries of joining the conversation are successful, not even him touching your hand or being a bit more touchy than usually gains your attention. It’s then that his voice sounds a little bit more lifeless and gains your observance. “[Name], weren’t we on a date?” You know you messed up.

➤ You kindly say goodbye to whoever’s flirting with you and ask Tanizaki what’s wrong - it’s just not his kind and easily flustered self

➤ “You seemed to be having fun with them, don’t you?”

➤ “Tanizaki, they were just being nice-”

➤ Give him the puppy eyes and everything is forgiven, though. Tanizaki could never, in his entire life, be genuinely mad at you. Yes, he might be upset that you ignored him for good 5 minutes straight, but that’s it.

Chuuya Nakahara

➤ Chuuya rarely gets jealous. He puts 110% of his faith and trust in you and knows that you do the same. A relationship that’s loyal to the bone.

➤ He can stand it for a little while when e.g. Tachihara is getting a little too friendly and touchy with you. Of course, you return the gesture, believing that he’s just being nice to you and not actually flirting. After all, no one but Chuuya had ever really flirted with you or so you believed.

➤ We all know that man’s temper is as short as his height, so it wouldn’t take long for him to snatch you away from Tachihara and dump a load of work on him. “Chuuya, what is all that work for?!” Tachihara would obviously complain, not quite understanding why all of a sudden he was assigned to pretty lame jobs. Chuuya just waves him off, pulling you into his side and temper tested. “You don’t flirt with taken people. If you do, you’ll simply have to carry the consequences.” 

➤ Tachihara wasn’t aware you were in a relationship with Chuuya. After all, being an executive was a lot of work, he often came home late and your paths with Chuuya didn’t cross as often as you’d like, but y’all still make it work. 

➤ At that moment, Chuuya makes an effort to see you more often during the day, have you closer by his side and let people know that you’re his and his alone. He’ll then bring you along to meetings, lets you sit on his lap when it’s just paperwork he has to finish for Mori and holds your hand at the mafia headquarters.

➤ It’s not like Chuuya has never held your hand. He just never thought of it as necessary and you never complained about it either, so he assumed it was okay.

➤ Chuuya introduces you to Kouyou, knowing that word will get around faster. Now, Kouyou isn’t a woman of gossip but she will assume that Mori is aware of the relationship Chuuya shares with you and casually goes “Chuuya’s partner is pretty cute, don’t you think so, Mori-san?” and Mori stops whatever he’s doing, “You mean like a..relationship?”

➤ Mori will spread word like wildfire. Elise scolds him.

➤ “Now everyone knows you’re mine, shrimp,” Chuuya pats your head and messes up your hair affectionately. You can’t help the huff slipping your lips and look up at him with a questioning look. “Big reaction for someone so small.”

➤ “cOME HERE, YOU LITTLE-”

➤ The next day everyone knows about your relationship with Chuuya and knows better than to hit on you. Not only did Mori run his mouth, but your neck was pretty colorful and Chuuya was extra cocky that day.

[whatifxwereyou]

Ashes Chapter 4: Stars

Pairing: Liu Kang x Reader

Is this progress? You two talk and you don't want to murder each other. Probably progress. Probably. Something fishy is definitely going on.

A/N: Hope you are all doing well! This is more fluffy angst than it is angry angst. But I mean, just wait until the next chapter. I'll make up for it! Hahaha.

First Chapter << Previous Chapter Next Chapter >> Chapter Index

“You forgot your tea.” The woman called to you, and you turned and offered a forced smile that fell quickly. You were handed your teacup and turned to look through the trees. Liu Kang had disappeared within them.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know, dear.” The woman sipped her tea next to you. You had to get to work but your heart was heavy. “Trouble in paradise?”

You choked on your tea.

“Oh?” You cleared your throat and tilted your head inquisitively. The woman gestured to where Liu Kang had disappeared but had a knowing smile on her face. “Oh, no. No, no, no we aren’t… I… just no. He’s having a hard day is all. A hard week.” The woman seemed genuinely surprised.

“I’m sorry for assuming but I sensed that your spirits were intertwined. It was a natural assumption to guess that the two of you were together.”

Oh, good.

“We used to be close.” You felt suddenly exhausted and as if you could cry. The bag on your back was heavy with the weight of Kung Lao and your heart was heavy with the pain of Liu Kang. “I’m sorry for this. He just lost his brother and it’s been difficult. He’s not usually like this. I promise. He’s a good man.”

“Grief is one of the most difficult hardships we deal with. I understand. And I sense that the journey ahead of him will not be an easy one.”

“Yeah. He’s not alone though. I’ll make sure he’s okay.” You would. Even if he did nothing but yell and push, you would at least make sure he was okay. Attraction or not, it was the least you could do. Kung Lao would have wanted you to.

“You must be careful too. I sense great loss around you and great conflict ahead of you.”

“Yeah, I’m not surprised.”

“Oh?”

“I was dating his brother.”

“Ah, that explains at least part of it.” The woman placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. You stood there for a time. You blinked back tears and hoped they went unnoticed but this woman seemed wise and observant. She reminded you of a nicer and less godly Raiden. “It’s a difficult three-day hike through the mountains to reach Nightwolf.” The woman walked before you and offered you a folded-up map and a small coin-sized wolf charm. She cupped her hands around yours. “You will need this to prove that you are worthy to see him.”

“Are you sure? I… I’m happy to explain to you what we’re doing here.” You were surprised. You didn’t know what unspoken trial you’d passed but you were grateful to have passed it. At least one thing was going right.

“No need. I can sense a great many things, dear, and you, without question, are worthy to seek out Nightwolf. Your soul burns radiantly despite the shadow hanging over it.”

You stuttered because you didn’t know what that meant. “Thank you. I’m… we’re grateful.”

“We will provide you both with anything you might need for your trip. When you find Nightwolf then show him this charm. He will know that you are worthy of being seen. I hope that whatever it is you are seeking from him he can provide.”

“Thank you. I really can’t express how grateful I am.”

“You don’t have to, dear. I can tell.” The woman’s voice was soft. “Follow me.” You did as you were asked and followed the woman through the village. A small cabin had been setup for you and Liu. It was quaint but there were two beds and enough space for you to rest for the night out of the elements. That was all you needed and more than you deserved, you thought. You stayed in the cabin after the woman bid you farewell and good luck. You hadn’t even introduced yourselves but your meeting had still been profound.

For some time after, you sat on the bed and held your bag, wondering what to do. Your heart was heavy and so you meditated and prayed for Liu Kang to find peace and for Kung Lao to forgive you. The last one was selfish, but you felt incredibly guilty and there was no easing it. He would have eased your guilt.

Sleep wasn’t coming. You were too worried about Liu getting himself lost in the woods in his anger.

You had no right to worry about him. He’d gotten by plenty fine without you his whole life. You shouldn’t have worried so much but you couldn’t help it. It was natural to fixate on the few things you had control of when the rest of it was so wildly out of your hands.

You left the cabin. Night had fallen and there were only a handful of other people outside. You wrapped the blanket you’d bought around your shoulders and walked around the village until you found a clearing in the trees where you could sit and watch the stars. The sky was beautiful. So many of the lights in the sky reminded you of home but they were also so different. It took you awhile to find your favorite constellations which distracted you for a time.

You felt him before you heard him. The fiery spirit of Liu Kang. He sat next to you. You’d always been able to sense him. Earlier, he’d been bright with rage and now he was a dull roar but by no means at peace. He said nothing but sat watching the stars next to you. You’d done this before years in the past. Sat on dangerous ledges and watched the sky in silence.

It had been comforting then. It was less so now. He put you on edge. Between nerves and attraction, your brain had no idea how to process him anymore.

“I’m sorry.” He broke the silence, and you turned your eyes away from the stars but not toward him. “I apologized to everyone I was rude to, but I figured that I would save the most important apology I had to make for last.” You could hear a smile on his face but also felt how weary he was. Carrying that kind of anger and guilt took a toll. You would know.

“It’s okay.” You had forgiven him hours ago. Honestly, you’d mostly been worried for him. “Believe it or not, I get it.”

“Do you?”

You locked eyes with him and then turned away as you felt the nerves rise in your throat again. He hadn’t made you this nervous in years and there were a thousand reasons why. “Yeah. I go through moments where the world is too much noise and things seem impossibly frustrating. Moments where I can’t avoid being angry no matter how much I don’t want to be.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You turned your eyes back to the stars, but it was hard to think about him losing control like that. It hurt to think about yourself like that too. He scooted a little closer to you and his knee touched just against yours. There had been nights where you’d sat with him after fighting with Kung Lao and he’d held your hand. And briefly, you felt that comfort and that spark that he always ignited, but you stomped it out quickly.

“I miss my brother. And I miss you.” He sighed as if it annoyed him to say. “But being around you makes it more real.” You had a feeling. He had the same effect on you.

“I’m sorry.” You managed to whisper but you thought your voice sounded rather pathetic, broken and as though you were desperate to get the words out without tears.

“It’s not your fault. I need to stop acting like it is. You don’t seem to blame me.”

“I miss him too. And I miss you. I miss a lot of things.” You sniffled away the upset that had come with realizing just how much harder you made it on Liu Kang. Sleeping with him had certainly not helped either. Maybe it had provided temporary relief, but it had definitely worked a lot of old hurt feelings into the mix that you hadn’t needed. “It doesn’t feel real sometimes. I brought his little jade thing with me as a reminder. So I won’t keep expecting to find him waiting for me when we get back.”

“Y/N?” Liu turned to face you. “If he were alive then it wouldn’t be me on this journey with you. It would be him.”

“Yeah. You’re probably right.” He was and you knew it. You hadn’t been on a trip with Liu Kang alone since before you’d started dating Kung Lao. “He’d never liked the idea of me going on trips with you alone. Always insisted on coming with us or replacing you when Raiden suggested it.”

“Oh?” Liu seemed genuinely surprised and you turned to face him.

“Yeah. I asked him why once and he never gave me a straight answer. You know how he was with that kind of stuff. It was like pulling teeth.” You missed your bag. It had become a security blanket in Liu Kang’s presence. “Now I’ll never know the reason. There’s so many things that I’ll never know.” You pulled the blanket a little tighter. Liu Kang was deep in thought and just staring at you and so you let him and avoided his eyes.

“Did you ever tell him?” He was hesitant to ask. Probably afraid you’d flee again. You snapped your gaze up to his in surprise. “About before you two were together.”

“What? No! No, god no.” You laughed awkwardly. “I didn’t want to cause any trouble between the two of you. He could be kind of jealous sometimes.” You liked those memories. It had never been a bad kind of jealousy. It had been cute and he’d always denied until after you’d fought about it and wound up rolling around together in bed. “Did you tell him?”

“I almost did once, but no. We’d been arguing and I almost let it out just to spite him.”

You inhaled sharply. That would have been a mess. “Yikes. Do you remember what you’d been fighting about?”

“It was something stupid. I don’t remember.” Liu averted his eyes. Was it something stupid? Or did he not remember? He was lying but you wouldn’t argue with him. You were in no place to push each other’s boundaries right now. This was the first real civil conversation you’d had while sober since Kung Lao died. “I just remember thinking about the trouble it would have caused you, so I held my tongue.”

“I appreciate that.”

“I knew you would.”

“Liu?” You wanted to apologize, and your gaze caught the scrape on his arm, left untended.

“Don’t worry about it, Y/N.” He inhaled sharply as you touched the scrape, far more than he should have for such a small wound, as if your touch burned him.

“I’m worried about you.”

“Not ready to talk about that. Still… processing.” At least he hadn’t snapped at you. You lifted his arm and he scooted closer as if eager for your touch. “It’s fine. Didn’t even break the skin really.”

“Thank you for helping me back there.”

“I promised him that I would keep you safe.” He assured you and you rolled your eyes at him. He laughed which was short lived but also a wonderful sound. You had never needed him or Kung Lao to keep you safe. It had never stopped them from wanting to do just that. You would let him. If it made him feel better, then that was what mattered.

“That woman gave me directions and a charm to present to Nightwolf. We can leave in the morning but it’s a long hike. Three days, she said. We should rest.”

“I don’t think I can. I’m going to stay outside a bit longer.” Liu gestured to the stars. You’d both found peace in the sky in the past, both separately and together. Some things never changed, you guessed. You stood up and made to leave him on his own. He didn’t want you there and you knew that. So you would go back to the bed and to what little you had left of Kung Lao.

“Goodnight, Liu Kang.” You bowed politely but were surprised when he grabbed your hand. His thumb carefully brushed over the back of your knuckles. Your throat suddenly felt too full to talk. This was familiar. More familiar than it should have been. He’d stopped you that night too. He’d asked you to stay a bit longer with him. You had been drunk but had melted just the same and you were melting now.

“Don’t go just yet, Y/N.” He didn’t look up at you but he held your hand firmly. You considered that it was maybe a bad idea but sat down with him again anyway. He let go of your hand and then you sat side by side and watched the stars in silence. It wasn’t awkward, finally. It wasn’t long before you couldn’t keep your eyes open and had fallen asleep sitting up.

Next Chapter >>

[tough-bit-of-fluff]

FFXIV Write 2021 Prompt 1: Foster

It was a quiet afternoon in a low-rent neighborhood of the Goblet, where small shops and residences pressed closely together, worn but tidy. The heat of the day had urged most shoppers and residents along, either back to their homes for a nap before continuing the evening's work, or down the stone path to the brilliant turquoise pools of the posh Brimming Heart district.

It was from one of the aforementioned small shops though, one blessed at least with a large tree to shade it, that came a high-pitched cry, pleading and dramatic.

“Aww, come on, little guy, you hafta eat *something*! Your cute chubby lil tentacles are starting to look all listless, and you're not half as slimy as you were a week ago!”

The shop was the Compass Coffee and Second Chance Shop, and the cry came from Alyona Amariyo, who ostensibly worked there. At the moment, the fluffy, distraught miqo'te was lying on her belly in the middle of the floor, peering closely at a squat, strange creature that almost defied description. The “little guy” in question. Rejected foodstuffs lay scattered around them.

“Might it not be wise,” rumbled the canny hrothgar merchant Cielbasa from behind the counter, “To be a bit more specific than urging the beast to eat ‘something’?” He ran a hand across his furry face and muzzle, and shuddered, imagining the creature latched there.

“That's a g...good point,” Letharon agreed, sweeping a hand through his own dense thatch of cerulean blue hair. He frowned with concern down at Aly, who was pressing her round, pale cheek against the rubbery lavender hide of the blank-eyed animal in an affectionate nuzzle that went absolutely unreciprocated. “We d...don't even know if it's an am...phibian or insect or…” Or an abomination from the dark spaces between the stars, sent to enslave or consume all of mankind, starting with a too-trusting catgirl. “Or w..what,” he concluded, taking a protective step closer.

“Maybe he's a kind of frog,” Flavia suggested, the taller girl smoothing her skirts as she crouched down to join in observing Aly's new “friend.”

“Your belief is that this squelching, six-legged *thing* is a *frog*.” Ciel raised a bushy eyebrow.

“I like frogs,” Flavia explained, as though that was reason enough.

“I like frogs too!” Beamed Aly. “And I like solving mysteries with my friends. And we'll figure out what he is and what he wants, together!”

“Ninki Nanka,” came the proclamation from a shadowed shop-corner, by the bookshelves. Victor stepped dramatically into the light, causing the staff and scattered customers to gasp. Aly clapped at the theatricality.

Leth blinked. “W...what?”

Qoribucha, a tall Xaela shop regular sipping a comparatively tiny cup of espresso, offered a grave nod. “Perhaps he is speaking the words which shall release it back to the Void.”

Victor repeated, “Ninki Nanka. That's apparently what this thing is. Or at least I'm reasonably sure. Look at the striations on its tail.” He gestured to the book he was holding.

Cielbasa frowned. “Let me see that.”

Victor shrugged, and, focusing, used his telekinesis to float the tome across the room to the leonine shopkeep’s hands...perhaps with a bit more force than was strictly necessary.

Ciel flipped rapidly through the pages, while Aly unsuccessfully offered the possible nanka a carrot, a gysahl green, and a handful of birdseed.

“A, ahem, ninki nanka, does not have six legs,” Ciel stated, tapping an illustration with his clawed finger.

“There will be more meat to harvest, when eventually its time comes,” Qori observed. “Perhaps it is a boon.”

“Maybe...this one's just special,” Aly suggested, not responding to the au ra’s suggestion, and massaging the nanka’s back. It made a wet noise that might have been a growl or a trill, or simply the passing of gas. A faint fishy smell filled the air, wrinkling the noses of everyone in the room, aside from the two enamored, oblivious women, and the creature itself, which didn't have a nose to wrinkle.

“You do tend to find the special ones,” Victor chuckled, reaching down to rub a pink, fuzzy ear.

“Ohh, no no, don’t eat that, silly!” Flavia chided the creature, who was waving its tentacles inquisitively at a “coffee” concoction she had made with unground coffee beans, an entire cup of sugar, and, by the look of it, several small pinecones, their sap-encrusted ends protruding from the unwholesome brew. “That’s people food, and it could make you sick.”

“That’s h...half right,” murmured Leth, bemused.

“I dunno,” said Aly. “He hasn't shown this much interest in anything at all today, maybe you could let him have a...bite? Sip? However you would interact with all that?”

Flavia nodded, holding the mug out to the nanka. It waddled over and descended upon the brew with a savage enthusiasm, tentacles flailing, thick tail thumping, as surprisingly loud slurping, splorching sounds filled the air.

“He likes it!” Aly cheered. ”Flavia, you're a culinary genius specifically for nankas, that is a highly specialized skillset, good work with that!” The other woman beamed at the peculiar praise.

The group watched the strange, six-legged nanka messily finish its decidedly unwholesome repast, then scurry around the floor in circles, before scuttling around the corner and down the stairs.

“He certainly seems...energetic, now,” Victor remarked, brushing off his vest and shirt-sleeves as if he felt slightly less clean for just having been in the same room as the strange animal.

“Maybe he went downstairs to get more coffee,” Flavia suggested.

“That's p...probably not the best idea,” Leth said, heading downstairs himself. The others followed his lead.

But when they arrived, the sight that greeted them was not of a nanka burrowing into the beans, but of a nanka frolicking in the fountain. Aly clasped her hands together joyfully, and ran to the creature's side. “Look how moist he is again! And ooh, you're making so much slime, little guy!”

Leth joined Aly and looked down with dismayed distaste. “The w...water’s turning all viscous and s...slimy, like from a h...hagfish!”

Aly nodded, tapping her lips in thought. “Do you think we should save some slime for the next time he's looking a little dried out? Or maybe he should just stay in the fountain…”

Leth put his hand on the miqo'te’s shoulder. “Aly, this is a w...wild animal we don't know much about. D...do you really think it's a good idea to k...keep it?”

Aly looked up at Leth with earnest gray eyes. “There's a lot about *us* we don't know yet. Stuff about my past, the way your machine parts work… And besides, isn't this supposed to be a place that helps travelers who aren't sure of their way? This little guy is a long way from home, and he needs our help!”

Letharon, a long way from what he once called home himself, sighed. “What are you going to c...call it? It probably won't be a l..little guy, forever,” he noted with no small amount of trepidation.

“Yes,” Ciel agreed archly from the stairwell. “What are you going to name the ‘frog’?”

“That's a great idea, Ciel! We will name him Frog.”

In the fountain, Frog ceased his splashing, and put his front feet on the ledge. He looked out into the basement café, and seemed to nod. His tentacles bobbed in apparent agreement, and his tail swished and gently sloshed in a satisfied way. Another wayward wanderer had come to the Compass to stay.

@eorzeanharmony @garleanfluff @sharp-cast-sharper-words and more, thank you for sharing your wonderful characters.

You can visit the Compass too! https://compasscoffee.carrd.co

[busterkeatonfanfic]

Chapter 31 Part I

Buster tried his darnedest to get her a date for the party. He first suggested John Barrymore, apparently forgetting (or not caring) that Barrymore had once been his greatest rival for her affection. Nelly’s opinion of him hadn’t changed since Tempest; hanging onto the arm of a crude drunk all night was not her idea of a good time. She said no. He next suggested Buster Collier. She’d never met him, but he’d been in so many pictures that she knew his face well, though she couldn’t say what the films had been about. Buster Collier had been going with Constance Talmadge until recently. The break-up wasn’t personal; Buster told her the two were still friends.

“Certainly not, then,” said Nelly. “She’ll want to know who I am, how he met me—no. She’ll know something’s fishy.”

The suggestion of Charlie Chaplin followed. She gave more consideration to it. Charlie was charming and easy to talk to. In the end, he was out of the question given the many rumors about his sexual excesses and questionable behavior with women. She didn’t think it was a wise idea and Buster had to agree. The two were friendly but not pals, and he admitted he didn’t know how far to trust Charlie either. In desperation, he floated the idea of his brother, Jingles.

“Are you kidding?” she said. Buster had told her enough about his family that she’d gotten a pretty good picture of Jingles, who lacked his big brother’s confidence in all areas of life and was a hopeless failure with women. “No one will believe that for a second.”

“Well, I’m out of ideas,” said Buster, sounding annoyed on the other end of the phone.

“Let me ask Bradford. He was my dance partner for Tempest. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t go for girls, anyway, so he’d be perfect.”

Nelly didn’t know that her proposition was any better than Buster’s. To his guests, Buster had treated her presence at his party in October as no big curiosity, a matter of course, but she couldn’t help but wonder what he’d say now to them now, what he’d say if Natalie in particular asked why he’d invited two big nobodies like her and Bradford. Natalie might rightfully wonder why they among hundreds of aspiring actors were there. Buster’s quick mind would probably come up with an explanation that passed muster, but Nelly worried. He’d mentioned once, an offhand comment that was far more significant to her than it was him, that Natalie had fits of jealousy over him. Nelly’s instincts told her that attending the party was a bad idea, that she’d be too much temptation to Buster and he’d give their affair away with a look or a word or, worse still, a tender caress. Regardless, she couldn’t refuse even if she’d wanted to. He’d hinted about a birthday surprise and she couldn’t let him down, not to mention she was dying to know what he’d cooked up. Aside from the tabletop phonograph and occasional record, he’d stuck to his promise not to shower her in gifts and she knew he wasn’t about to present her with something in front of his wife and guests.

Uneasiness gnawing, she directed Bradford to the Villa at dusk on Friday night. He was just as keen as she was to break into pictures, so he’d agreed to drive her to the party and be her date without hesitation, especially after she explained she only wanted to go as friends. He’d gotten a minor role in the newest D.W. Griffith, the picture she’d tried out unsuccessfully for, and was happy to tell her about it while they drove, far less stoic than he’d been with her on previous occasions. His chattiness, she guessed, was due to his eagerness to meet and charm as many stars as possible and he was having trouble controlling his excitement. As Bradford recalled how he’d spoken briefly to Griffith on the set earlier in the week, she wondered, as she’d been wondering lately, about her career path in Hollywood. There were murmurs at the United Artists canteen about a Mary Pickford talkie with Sam Taylor directing, not Shakespeare. It gave her mixed feelings. On the one hand, maybe Mr. Taylor had forgotten about directing Pickford and Fairbanks in The Taming of the Shrew. On the other, she’d been relegated to the prop house for Lady of the Pavements, the new Griffith. A niggling fear had begun to creep on her, that her much more mundane talents at management and organization were impeding her career as an actress.

As the long white drive of the Villa became visible in the distance, she asked Bradford the question she’d been dreading, knowing he’d have his own questions in turn. “When we get there, would you pretend like we’re going together?” she said.

“Pretend like we’re going together?” said Bradford.

“Yes,” she said, running her fingers over the thin chain-metal handle of her handbag. “Just, you know, hold my hand or put your arm around my waist while we’re there. Dance with me more than the other fellows. Maybe a kiss on the cheek once and awhile, that kind of stuff.”

“I’ll do it if you really want me to, but why?” he said, sounding mystified.

Nelly weighed whether to tell him the truth and decided she didn’t have a choice. “I’m seeing someone who’s going to be there and I don’t want his wife to get suspicious,” she said, being careful with her words.

Bradford chuckled. “Now I get it. I was wondering why you asked me of all people.”

She felt defensive. “You’re the closest I have to a friend, a friend who’s a fellow. I’ve been too busy to get to know very many people. It’ll be no different than if you were acting.”

“Relax,” he said, leaning over to elbow her in a friendly way. “You think I’d miss this? I don’t care what you want me there for, frankly. I’m at your beck and call.”

Her shoulders relaxed; she hadn’t been aware that she was clenching them. “Thank you,” she said. “I do like you just fine, I just didn’t know who else to invite. You’re the first fellow who came to mind.”

“Relax,” said Bradford again. He continued talking amiably as his Ford crept up the Villa drive. He wanted to know how she knew Buster and she reminded him of her involvement with Steamboat. “When’s that coming out, anyhow?” he said.

“Any day now from what I’m told,” she said, her mind only half on the conversation. Butterflies tickled her abdomen from the inside.

The circle drive with the fountain in the center was ringed with expensive cars, Packards, Rolls Royces, and Lincolns. There was a man leading a woman wrapped in a white fur stole up the steps and into the house. Bradford grinned like a little boy as he drank it all in. He helped her out of the Ford which was dismally out of place, but there was no sense in worrying about it now. She reminded herself that she was an actress and could every bit pretend to be a person who belonged to the ranks of the stars. With this in mind, she ascended the steps with her arm hooked in Bradford’s elbow and let him open the door for her. “Thank you darling,” she said, practicing that acting as he took her arm again. She hoped that the figure dressed in the beaded navy-blue dress and standing beyond the vestibule had heard it. Natalie was greeting the guests ahead of them. Seeing her, Nelly felt a little on the faint side. She’d rented her dress at Carmela’s again, this one $25 and less eye-catching. It was sleeveless and of bright purple damask. It had no beading or ruffles, just modest ruching around the waist. She’d accented it with her own glass amethyst pendant necklace and ivory silk stockings. She had wanted to look less noticeable, but the light in the vestibule made the satin threads in the dress dazzle and flash. She’d done a formidable job of keeping worry about her mistake with Buster at bay the past week, but Natalie’s nearness and realness brought it home. Slim though it was, a chance existed that this woman’s husband had made her pregnant. Before Nelly had time to gather her wits about her on this matter, she and Bradford were advancing to greet Natalie.

“How do you do?” said Natalie, and Nelly and Bradford echoed her.

Bradford answered Natalie’s unspoken question. “We work with Mr. Taylor at United Artists.”

Nelly could only manage a desperate smile as she took in all the flesh-and-blood details of Natalie and remembered how Buster had looked in the mirror as he’d thrust himself into her. She wondered if Natalie recognized her from the party last autumn and was relieved at the sound of the front door opening behind them and the excuse to move on from the hostess so she could greet her next guests.

“Holy mackerel,” Bradford said under his breath, as he led her into the foyer and looked around him.

Nelly took stock of who was at the party already. She saw Norma Shearer, Bebe Daniels, Marion Davies, Pickford and Fairbanks, and before her eyes had gotten any further, Buster. Her heart went at a clip at the sight of him. She’d expected him to be upstairs and make a grand entrance as he’d done at the previous party. He was wearing a smart brown suit and his hair was neatly combed, every errant strand in place. He swirled a glass of whiskey and took a sip, talking with Norma Talmadge and a dark-looking man with Spaniard features. “That must be Gilbert Roland,” she said, mostly to herself.

“Hmm?” said Bradford.

“Norma Talmadge’s boyfriend. She’s married, but everyone knows she’s seeing Gil Roland,” she said, reciting the gossip she’d heard from Buster.

“You’re back,” said someone cheerfully.

She turned and beamed when she recognized Charlie Chaplin. The sight of him reminded her how fun it was to be among the brightest stars in Hollywood and her discomfort about Natalie eased. “Hello again,” she said. She held out her hand to his extended one and he kissed it, his lips soft and cool on the back of her hand. She giggled, thinking she really would have been in trouble if she’d attended the party with him. “This is Bradford. He’s with me at United Artists.”

“Oh, that’s simply heartbreaking. Don’t tell me you’re taken!” said Charlie, his hand going to his heart.

“I’m afraid so,” she said, leaning her head on Bradford’s shoulder briefly to demonstrate. “I’ll still save a dance for you.”

“If you’d be so kind,” he said, his accent rich and irresistible. “But why haven’t I seen you at United Artists?”

Nelly smiled and squeezed Bradford’s arm. “We’re undiscovered I’m afraid, but D.W. Griffith has his eye on Bradford. They spoke just this week. Me they’re keeping locked up in the prop department right now, but just you wait.”

Charlie winked. “Well, we’ll have to do something about that, won’t we? Will you be about next week?”

She could hardly believe it. And she’d been so worried about her career. “Of course.”

“Good. It’s settled. I’ll catch you when the band starts, hmm?” he said. “Lovely to see you.” He pressed her hand and turned away, disappearing into the crowd.

Her head whirled. One minute she was worried about Natalie Talmadge finding her out, the next Charlie Chaplin seemed to be promising her some sort of a future in films. And there was a band!

“Drink?” said a butler she didn’t know, stopping in front of them with a tray on which were arranged a number of delectable-looking drinks, all of oranges, deep reds, and yellowish creams.

“Thank you,” she and Bradford said, choosing drinks after a few moments’ consideration. She went for the cream-colored one.

Another butler materialized with hors d'oeuvres. She plucked up one of the bite-sized trifles and popped it in her mouth. She tasted dill and some kind of fish. Bradford sampled one too before returning to his drink. She didn’t recognize the butler. Buster must have hired help for the party. Bradford wound a hand around her shoulder. “Thanks for all this, darling,” he said. The endearment was scripted for anyone within hearing, but he meant the words.

“You’re welcome,” she said, sipping her drink. It had the flavor of pineapples, a California taste if there ever was one.

Her eyes roamed over the guests again. She recognized Constance Talmadge, Harold Lloyd, Buster Collier, John Gilbert, and Gloria Swanson. There were many men she didn’t know, some of middling looks, some downright unhandsome; those were the directors and big shots. Her gaze flickered to Buster just as he looked over at her. He gave a small, unsmiling nod and returned to his conversation. A mild pang struck her at the coldness of his acknowledgment, but she was relieved that he was being careful. She and Bradford kept to themselves, smiling and responding in kind whenever a guest nodded and said hello. She missed Louise Brooks and wished she had a girl friend to keep her company.

They were on their second drinks when attendees began to nod at each other and move in the direction of the living room. Exchanging looks, Nelly and Bradford followed. The living room, fully decorated when she’d last seen it five days ago, had been denuded of all furniture. Against the loggia on the southwest wall, a full orchestra was arrange in a suite of chairs. The members held instruments of all sizes and shapes, violins, saxophones great and small, trumpets, clarinets, a drum kit, a piano, an upright bass, even a huge tuba sitting somewhat uneasily in one man’s lap. There were at least two dozen men in the band at Nelly’s quick count, dressed alike in black tuxedos and bow ties. With the furniture and grand piano moved out, the living room was more spacious than ever.

“Why, it’s Paul Whiteman’s Orchestra!” Bradford said into her ear, voice hushed. He nudged her and flicked a finger in the direction of a fat man with a round face standing to the right of the orchestra.

Nelly was dazzled. The realization that one of her favorite bands in the room burst through her like a beam of sunshine. She couldn’t find words for her awe, but clutched for Bradford’s hand and squeezed it. The orchestra was burbling in a tuneless way as violinists tested strings and trumpets and saxophones tried out notes. A kind of restlessness pervaded the scene, musicians keen to begin, partygoers eager to dance. This went on for a few minutes until Buster threaded his way through his guests and stood facing the crowd with his back to the band.

“Nate and I want to thank you for coming tonight,” he began. “It’s an honor and a—” He looked over the crowd for a few moments as though he were thinking about what to say next. “An honor, a pleasure … you know, that kind of stuff. Anyway, I’d like you to give a hand for this gentleman and his little band here. They’re not very well-known, but if you’ll just, uh, pretend a little I’m sure it’ll make them very happy.” He straightened his tie, took one step forward, and fell on his face. There was laughter. As Buster stood up and brushed himself off, Paul Whiteman took his place. He was even less a man of words than Buster, saying only to the guests, “Thank you very much for having us tonight.” He walked to the left of the musicians and addressed them. “Gentleman …”

Two men assembled at the front of the orchestra near the upright piano. Nelly wondered for a second how they transported it from gig to gig, but forgot the question when Whiteman lifted his baton, held it in the air, and dropped it. The two men and the one at the piano began scatting a capella.

Wot-dot-dot, doh-dot, dot-dot-doh

Wot-dot-dot-dot, dot-dot-doh …

The man at the piano laid his hands on the keys just as one of the singers started in a smooth baritone, “You’ve heard of the Charleston, the Black Bottom.”

“I’ve got a rhythm that’s really got ‘em,” chimed the other singer. “It must be something new.”

“Gonna start it for you,” sang the man at the piano. It goes like, One, there it is.

His companions joined him:

One-two, there it is,

One-two-three, can’t you see where the merit is?

One-two-three-four, everywhere it is,

One-two-three-four, five steps!

At this, the snare sounded a beat and the whole orchestra burst into voice. Bradford grabbed Nelly’s hand and waist and swung her into motion. She yelped with delight. The rhythm was too fast for her to think about whether her feet were doing five steps; she just clung to Bradford and tried to keep up with the foxtrot he was leading her in. Over his shoulder, she could see that all the other dancers were smiling, Marion Davies dancing with Charlie Chaplin, Gloria Swanson paired with John Barrymore. She felt a sudden, uncanny sense of belonging as she and Bradford galloped along. A clarinet soloed, followed by a violin in a high, reedy voice like a grasshopper.

One, there it is,

One-two, there it is,

One-two-three, can’t you see where the merit is?

One-two-three-four, everywhere it is,

One-two-three-four, five steps!

One, got to learn,

One-two, got to learn,

One-two-three, there is not such a lot to learn,

One-two-three-four, aren’t you hot to learn?

One-two-three-four, five steps!

As the singers carried on, it was all Nelly could do to keep her rhythm and her breath. She was panting and laughing when the final note sounded. She and Bradford withdrew from the dancers to get a drink of punch from the bowl on the table in the foyer. As soon as their thirst was quenched, though, she took Bradford’s hand and hurried back into the room. She wasn’t going to miss a moment of the Paul Whiteman Orchestra’s set if she could help it.

The orchestra had begun a sweet, wistful melody led by trumpets. She recognized it at once as “Mary,” one of her favorites. Rather than dancing, she stood on the edge of the crowd with Bradford and watched. The trumpets piped and her heart was overfull as she soaked in the music and her surroundings with all of her might. Dancers kicked up their heels in a slower foxtrot as the full orchestra echoed the trumpets’ melody. She could have watched all the beautiful stars before her in their tuxes and brightly colored dresses, but she had eyes only for the orchestra and Whiteman’s graceful conducting. It was a marvel the way he brought different sections of the band to life with just a flick of his baton.

One of the singers stepped forward as a violin finished off the melody. He was perhaps a little taller than Buster, but slightly husky, with ears that stuck out and eyes as blue as a spring sky.

What are you waitin’ for,

What are you waitin’ for, Ma-ary?

What are you thinkin’ ‘bout,

Who are you thinkin’ ‘bout, Mary?

The bees are buzzin’,

They’re buzzin’ right in my ear,

And they keep on asking,

Hey, what’s the big idea?

He was the one with the smooth baritone like poured honey. All his notes flowed together without a single hitch. She recognized his voice from many of Whiteman’s records.

“He’s incredible,” she said, standing on tiptoes to whisper it in Bradford’s ear. He nodded in return.

Why do you lead me on,

Why do you be so con-trary?

You wouldn’t let my castles

Come tum-tum-tumblin’ down

Think of the things in store,

What are you waitin’ for, Ma-ary?

The violins concluded the melody and the brass took it up again. Her senses were filled with trumpets and the snare, then the orchestra singing as one voice.

She didn’t notice how spellbound she’d become until applause startled her back to reality. She clapped along with everyone else and the singer gave a bow and a modest smile. Bradford was bending to say something about the music when Nelly felt the cloth of a suit on the bare skin of her left shoulder. She turned to see Buster. He looked ahead, nonchalant, and her heart gave a fond trot.

“How d’ya like your birthday present?” he said quietly, still looking ahead.

“Oh, don’t kid me.” Even as she said it though, she knew in her heart of hearts that he wasn’t joking. The band was for her.

Still not looking at her, he gave the slightest of smiles. “Pretty good joke, huh?”

Her eyes welled. “I don’t know whether to kiss or kill you. You’re out of your mind and I don’t know how I’ll ever begin to thank you.” When she looked at him again, he was finally looking back, his brown eyes so affectionate she was in danger of throwing her arms around him in front of all of Hollywood, including his wife.

“Who’s your boyfriend?” he said, but his tone was curious, not suspicious.

She wiped the trace of tears from her eyes and turned to Bradford, who by then had noticed their conversation. “This is Bradford,” she said, laying a hand on his upper arm. “Bradford, this is Buster.”

“How d’you do, Mr. Keaton?” said Bradford, extending a hand. He glanced from Buster to her as they shook hands and she saw him connect the dots. Her insides went hot and cold. In hindsight, her casual introduction of Buster was a dead giveaway.

“Where’s Louise?” she said, moving on and trying not to punish herself for her mistake.

“Brooks? Or my sister? Sis is here somewhere. Probably trying to corner Ramon Novarro by the punch bowl.” He removed his cigarettes from his breast pocket and pulled one out. “Brooks, you know the score. Wife thinks there’s some funny business going on between us and if I invite her to another party I’m dead meat.”

Trying to be friendly or playing an angle, Bradford butted in. “How’s your new picture, Mr. Keaton?”

“Buster,” he said, taking a drag off the cigarette. “Going alright I guess. Can’t complain. You in pictures?”

Bradford chattered away about D.W. Griffith and Nelly looked around them briefly to see if anyone was paying attention to their interaction. None of the Talmadges were near. She spotted Natalie and Norma chatting with Douglas Fairbanks across the room. Constance was standing nearer and speaking to a man Nelly didn’t recognize, but her back was turned to them.

“Wanna dance?” said Buster, fingers curving into her elbow.

She gave an anxious glance at Bradford, worried about him overhearing, but remembered he already knew. She said in an undertone, “I don’t think we ought to. Not for a few more songs at least. You should dance with a couple other girls first.”

Buster squeezed the crook of her arm and dropped his hand. “Alright, if you say so. I’ll be back.”

Half an hour later, he had taken her advice. The band had played “I’m Coming Virginia,” “Mississippi Mud,” and “Grandma.” Her next two dances had gone to Bradford and she’d sat “Grandma” out. Buster had danced with Constance Talmadge, Bebe Daniels, and Marion Davies. The crowd of guests had gotten louder as more cocktails circulated. Nelly had accepted a third drink, but was tempering herself and had taken only a sip. The blue-eyed singer stepped forward and commanded the crowd’s attention.

“We just added this one to the repertoire. It’s from a musical they’ve got in New York right now called Present Arms. Harry and Al and me, we’ll introduce you to it,” he said in a smooth, affable voice. He smiled, showing white, even teeth and snapped his fingers at the orchestra to cue them, eyes on the audience.

She was so focused on him that she was startled when someone seized the drink from her hand. Buster walked away from her and set her drink on a side table on the periphery of the room. “Come on kid, I’ve waited long enough,” he said, setting his hand on her waist when he returned. The orchestra was in full swing, the brass section taking up a melody that the strings underscored and singing out cheerfully. A clarinet butted in every several measures, rich and mellow. Nelly had danced with Buster a dozen times in her apartment and his bungalow, but as he folded her hand into his, she remembered just their first dance at the party in October. She’d been spooked then about her changing feelings for him and nervous lest Natalie think something was afoot. Now that they were really having an affair, the dread and nervousness were like a thousand pin-pricks to her skin. She was sure it must be obvious that Buster and she were more than simply acquaintances.

Buster led her in a medium-tempo foxtrot, his eyes cast upward, as though dancing with her among all the other women was no big deal. Only his thumb massaging her palm gave him away. He smelled like aftershave and cigarettes. She tried to pay attention to the dance, the rhythm of her hips and her feet and not the sensation that every person in the room was staring at them and wondering about the girl Buster was dancing with.

He leaned in, his cheek almost resting against hers. “Loosen up,” he said in her ear.

She put her mouth by his ear in turn. “I feel like everyone’s watching us.”

He gave a calm, closed-lipped smile. “Everyone’s too busy getting ossified and cutting a rug to pay us any, baby.”

“I still don’t feel—”

“Hush,” he said. “Just enjoy yourself.”

The brassy trumpet and an oboe bantered for a while before the full orchestra cut back in.

I’m a sentimental sap that’s all

What’s the use of trying not to fall?

I have no will

Aw, you made your kill

‘Cause you took advantage of me

It was the blue-eyed singer again. In the background, the two others crooned softly. Nelly closed her eyes for a beat and watched herself as Natalie might, were she able to peer inside Nelly’s head. Buster. The Villa. The Paul Whiteman Orchestra.

I’m just like an apple on a bough

And you’re gonna shake me down somehow

So what’s the use?

You cooked my goose

‘Cause you took advantage of me

Her purple dress. A room full of stars.

I’m so hot and bothered that I don’t know

My elbow from my ear

Suffer something awful each time you go,

Much worse when you’re near

Playing billiards in Buster’s game room. Buster enclosing her in his arms on his bed.

Here I am with all my bridges burned

Just a babe in arms where you’re concerned

Buster’s lips and tongue and fingers and hands. His prick.

So lock the door and call me yours

‘Cause you took advantage of me

The shower. The down blanket and the stars sparkling over Beverly Hills. Buster’s body warm against hers.

The brass section sang out again, boisterous, confident, the strings wrapping its melody. Nelly moved her feet, scarcely conscious of the dance. Her head was still planted in the clouds when it ended and Buster’s hands let go. She couldn’t help glance around her, wondering who’d been watching. To her relief, the one person who caught her eye was Bradford, who had just let go of Marion Davies. He kissed Marion’s hand and said something in her ear that made her laugh, then walked back over to Nelly.

“Don’t make me jealous now,” he said, kissing her cheek.

“Look who’s talking!” she said, giving him the smile and all the weight of feeling she would have to Buster had she been able.

“Don’t forget your Orange Blossom,” said Buster, pressing it back in her hand. “I’ll be back for you in a little bit.” He turned away and she saw him catch John Gilbert by the arm and demand something that made Gilbert roar with laughter.

“How’d you enjoy your dance with Miss Davies?” said Nelly to Bradford.

“Oh, I expect I’ll be playing the lead in her next picture,” Bradford said, winking to show that his boast wasn’t serious. “How was your dance with Mr. Keaton?”

“He dances well,” she said, playing along.

A cool hand on her arm made her turn. Nelly blanched when she saw who it was.

“Have we met?” said the blonde woman, her smile warm.

“I don’t believe so. You’re Constance Talmadge.”

Constance smiled. She had a small, prim mouth outlined in a rose-colored lipstick. Her hair was waved and golden, her throat sparkling with a sapphire and diamond choker.

One of the singers was singing, “Baby face, you’ve got the cutest little baby face …”

“That’s right. And you?” said Constance.

Nelly reminded herself that she could act with the best of them. She put a hand on Bradford’s back. “Bradford and I work with Mr. Taylor at United Artists.”

“I’m in the new D.W. Griffith,” Bradford offered.

“Oh, that’s fine,” said Constance, sounding interested. “What’s your role?”

Bradford smiled. “Well I’m just an extra at the moment, but Mr. Griffith said Thursday he’s going to fit me into more scenes. He found out I can play piano and thinks he can use me for a bigger role.”

“I loved you in Breakfast at Sunrise,” Nelly said to her. “It’s such an honor to meet you.”

“Why thank you.” Constance was as friendly as could be, but there was something about her appearance that made Nelly uneasy. “Is this your first time at one of Bus and Nate’s ‘dos?” she asked.

Nelly put on her best casual smile. “My second. I was here last fall.” She didn’t offer to explain how she knew Buster and hoped that Constance wouldn’t inquire. Distantly, she heard the orchestra and saw the bodies around them moving in time to the music.

“Oh, then you’re old hat. Have you tried the crab croquettes?”

Nelly said that she hadn’t. She was wondering where the conversation would go next when Bradford broke in. “Miss Talmadge,” he said, his voice brimming with charm. “Would it be too forward to ask you to dance?”

Constance smiled. Nelly could tell she was genuinely charmed. “Even if it was, I’ll say yes.”

“Wonderful.” He palmed her waist which was clothed in blue silk and chiffon. Glancing at Nelly as he took Constance’s small, white hand in his, he said, “Sorry, darling. Don’t be jealous.”

Nelly could have kissed him. With only one thought in mind, she elbowed her way out of the crowd and to one of the butlers, she helped herself to a minty green drink from his tray. She tossed it back, grabbed an Orange Blossom, and gulped that too. To his credit, the butler was too well-bred to react. She would have explained to him if she could that she wouldn’t be able to enjoy another second of the party without being drunk. The encounter with Constance had brought her jitters to a fever pitch. Nodding her thanks to the butler, she took another Orange Blossom in hand and went to track down the washroom.

The blue-eyed singer’s baritone followed her down the hall.

Birds are singing merrily

The sun is shining peacefully

Because my baby don’t mean maybe now

She locked the door behind her and set the drink on the edge of the sink as she relieved herself. Her make-up needed no touching up, and her cheeks were flushed with drink. Buster had engaged the Paul Whiteman Orchestra as a birthday gift to her and she was going to relax if it was the last thing she did. Technically it wasn’t her birthday for a few more hours, but even if they didn’t know it, everyone out there was dancing in honor of Nelly Foster’s twenty-seventh year on earth. She exited the washroom feeling more secure with this thought. Bradford was playing his part perfectly. The Talmadges didn’t suspect anything. It was okay if she loosened up as Buster had urged her to do.

[jalebi-weds-bluetooth]

Ishqbaaz Liveblog, E4: Anyone Between 40-59 is Shit

Previously: E3 “A really good premise”

Welcome! My liveblogging continues. Check out @australian-desi​ and @tellywoodtrash​ for more IB liveblogs (if you’re interested in this, TTji is my ultimate guru to lb-ing)!

So far I’m waiting and seeing if IB will break Kasautii Zindagi Kii 2, cause KZK2′s plot and non annoyance meter stood firm till 5 episodes. Until new Prerna decided to mega sacrifice herself and marriage a CREEP to save her family’s home. I noped out of that so hard after Prerna’s decision. 

And so far I’m pleasantly surprised by IB, and genuinely enjoying it plot-wise. 

Here’s the end of my yapping, now enjoy the liveblog!

Episode 4: “Anyone Between 40-59 is Shit”

- Deva Shree Ganesha continues. Till now Nakuul’s chin level is steady (later in the show his nose is permanently in the air - as noted by @ridzmystique​)

- Burning Man continues, literally. 

- Ganesh Ji also getting nice footage. 

- Where is the thunder in the bg music coming from? 

- Why ISN’T ANYONE DOING ANYTHING TO STOP THE FIRE? AH SHAKTI nearly went but was stopped by Tej. 

- Tej doing damage control. Ofc, classic Tej. Dramatic shot continues, Tej is dramatic AF.

- HEY WE DIDN’T SEE MUCH OF THE OBROS TRYING TO SAVE BURNING MAN. But we must assume cause Shivaay is a bit burnt. 

- Shivaay hurt his hand too? Shivaay, are we connecting too? Why? (My hand is hurt too)

- Ah, their first factory was burned but Dadaji decided to save the people instead of inventory #dadajirocks 

- Shivaay taking the full pressure of things, as usual. Oh, Nakuul is acting really well in this scene - what do they do with him later?

- Poor Dadiji, she’s so sad - she’ll get a heart attack one day.

- Good vaada to take from older brother, make sure bhaichara remains between all of them. 

- Sometimes it is so important to not be like your parents, if your parents are shitty. 

- Oh the Mandir is BEAUTIFUL. 

- DRAMATC TEJ APPEARS. 

- WTF ACQUIRING LAND BY FORCING THE FARMERS? Tej must like what crap the government is pulling right now. #farmersprotest (please check it out and give it the support and awareness it deserves)

- Good, thank God Shakti has some sense. Oh, a flawed man with a conscience - I really like Shakti, he’s very layered. 

- Tej is dramatic AF, Shakti is frickkin layered. These two bros are playing well against each other. 

- WHO? DADI AND HER TWO SONS FACE OFF. 

- YAY THIS POOL IS DEEPER THAN 1 FOOT! (Imagines Arnav swimming through this *cough*)

OK STOP DISTRACTING ME GUYS, LET’S FOCUS ON THE SHOW. 

ISS PY

ISHQBAAZ

WHERE THERE’S A POOL

AND NO OTHER THOUGHTS

YOU KNOW WHY I GOT DIVERTED, BECAUSE OF YOU GUYS, YES

ANYWAYS,

- Shivaay… wondering about family name even though someone died? 

- You know, what I like about this convo is that both Om and Shivaay are right in their positions. 

- Om: worried that a person died, Shivaay: reputation matters 

- Damn it, this was a good conversation.

- Ah Rudy. I LOVE LOVE LOVE HOW THEY USED THE BABY BROTHER TO BREAK THE TENSION. The great thing of Rudy not smiling is that you know shit has hit the fan when that happened. 

- I don’t like how they’re treating Guggi - the way they tried to make her ‘comedic’ because she doesn’t fit the standard of beauty. I DO NOT like this. 

- FINALLY DADI! Finally have a word with your sons. 

- Just ignoring Pinky. Jhanvi, I Stan you as always. 

- Ah Rudy, I LOVE HOW SHIVAAY AND OM CALMED AND THE CRACKS HEALED BECAUSE OF RUDY BEING THEIR BABY. 

- HAHAHAH! Shivaay yelled Om for hitting Rudra by showing Rudy how to hit better! 

- HAHAHAH THEY’RE MAKING RAJNIKANTH OUT OF SHIVAAY! I LOVED how in one scene, without too much, showed how Rudy is the glue between two brothers who love each other but are ideologically different (and a difference that can cause a crack if not healed at the right time)

- DADI BRINGIN IN THE KASAM to make sure her two fishy sons tell the truth. Shakti told half truth, smart. WHY IS DADI SMILING? 

- OK dadi your sons have a LOT of issues, your sanskaar totes failed. 

- Okay, Anjali has transformed to Sahil (I guess that’s the kid’s name). Do we need to be orphans and have a limping sibling to be a television lead? (Taking a hockey stick and heading to my brother)

- Why is the landlady and constables standing in filmy line too?

- UFF THIS LANDLADY KA OVERACTING - OH WAIT SHE’S ACTUALLY ANIKA’S BUAJI BUAJI - DAMN WTF IS SHE. THIS BUAJI IS OVERACTING LIKE SHIT.

- Totally not interested in this character. 

- Dude Anika is anaath, isme tera kya jaata hai?

- Yes Anika, kill her. 

- Woah who’s manhandling Anika?

- THAT IS A FINE ACTRESS, please don’t make her do a shitty role. WTF? POLICE VIOLENCE. 

- Phirse gaana? These three bros should have an album after their name. In case their other businesses fail, this one should keep things floating :D *did I foresee something in this sentence, I might’ve*

- I would call thing cringy, if I didn’t do the same shit with my bro. We’re dramatic AF too, dancing to random songs all the time. 

- The police waali has personal vendetta against Anika. Why? 

- Ok, almost every 40-50s person in this show is terrible. 

- Ok how is this terrible Buaji and the police waali connected? Is this police person a relative or something to Buaji?

- Ok I love the kid, I love how much he loves Anika. 

- Ok, we have reason why Anika should be removed from this situation asap (already murdering Shivaay for the future marriage condition).

So it is interesting and I’m eager to see what all tropes would happen when Shivaay and Anika meet. In her words, I have very low tolerance for michimichi! For example: I (largely) hate the swami track, post marriage comedy, sheetal track, when Khushi gives ‘gyaan’ to either Lavanya or Arnav about marriage or anything and all that in IPK. 

But I’m also waiting to listen to O Jaana and see the staring, wind and all cause I’m a wee bit sucker for those. 

So goodnight and see you tomorrow!

- S

Next up: E5 “Devi Maiyya working overtime for Shivika to happen”

[heras-princess]

There are stories that haven't been told or were overshadowed by others and eventually forgotten over time. The story of how Uga Benzaiten became the Queen of Curses is a forgotten one, unfortunately.

AUTHOR’S NOTES: this fanfic has my original characters; this is also on my wattpad and archive of our own accounts

WARNINGS: original characters, romance, lgbtq+, sukuna being sukuna, references regarding japanese mythology/lore, executions, propaganda, manipulation, murder, corrupt positions of power, brainwashing, family drama, and many more.

Words: 1,183

𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐑𝐎𝐘𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐘 (𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄)

𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑

“Your Majesty, I apologize to inconvenience you at this time, but the Imperial Princess Uga is nowhere to be seen.”

The throne room quickly fell silent.

Not a single person spoke for what seemed like hours but was only a minute in reality.

“...I’m sorry, but I fear that I might’ve misheard you on what you have just told me,” Despite displaying a polite smile, Emperor Nintoku’s voice was filled with nothing but venomous malice. Did he hear that right? No, of course not. Perhaps he misheard the chambermaid’s news. Either

The lowly servant further explained the situation to her superior, “Her Imperial Highness requested some time alone in her chambers after her recent training sessions. When I was entered in order for her to receive dinner, I’ve noticed that her Highness was nowhere in her room and her window was open. I have reason to believe that she has ran away when she was alone.”

After telling her side, the chambermaid awaited and feared on what her emperor planned on saying or doing next. He stayed silent for a moment, and his facial expression - she hadn’t dared to look up to see his face out of respect and fear.

Smack!

The maid whimpered in pain as she fell on the floor, tears threatening to soak on the room’s floor. Her right cheek has a reddening mark from Nintoku himself.

“What a joke of a chambermaid. You avert your eyes from the high priestess and she manages to leave under your nose,” he began to tear into the maid, not caring if she’s starts crying. Uga leaving was the maid’s fault. And here she was, paying the price for her carelessness.

Today certainly has had its ups and downs.

First his men found a kappa hiding itself in an alley and brought it to him. The emperor began to ask them questions about Ryomen Sukuna, in the hopes if locating him. Unfortunately, the kappa said nothing. EIther it didn’t know anything or refused to say anything is left to only his imagination. Either way, he’ll continue to interrogate the yokai until he gets something out of it or it dies. He would be fine with either outcome.

Just then, one of the warriors burst into the throne room, interrupting the emperor’s thought process.

The warrior deeply bowed, “Apologizes for barging in, Your Majesty. But the kappa you’ve taken captive has escaped from it cage!”

Huh. Looks like he was wrong.

Today has been more of a bad day than most.

Nintoku then began to chuckle. His chuckle turned into a laugh, and his laugh became a hearty guffaw. “Well, I’ll be damned. I believe I am able to piece together what has occurred in these late hours. It appears that my dear Uga freed the kappa and took off. Right underneath not only your noses but mine as well.” He tried to catch his breath after finishing his little fit. This whole thing was amusing, to say the least.

That girl surely is something.

Why couldn’t she stay quiet and in line like the rest of her siblings? Maybe if she had, then her father wouldn’t pay so much attention to her. He always knew that Uga wasn’t as afraid of him as her siblings were, never trembling in fear whenever he would merely glance at her.

And her jujutsu training was a thing to behold. His daring daughter was a quick learner, that one.

He turned around and waved off the troop, “Send out your best searchers and find the Imperial Princess. And should you find the kappa along with her, bring it as well. Oh, and do not be afraid to use some cursed energy if she’s spotted.”

Alright, Uga.

You’ve made the first move in this hunting game you decided you want to pay.

Now it is my turn.

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

Uga hasn’t stopped running through the forest even though her feet were ready to give out soon. She knew better than to stop at this point. She had the kappa that she freed from her father in her arms. Her plan was to drop off the kappa at a nearby river and continue hiding from the imperial searchers. The chambermaids must’ve learned about her disappearance and have told her father, who probably send out searchers to find her and the kappa.

That was when Uga finally found a river a few feet away. Once the kappa started to sniff a familiar fishy scent from the body of water, it wiggled out of the imperial princess’s grip and dove into the river without any form of hesitation.

Uga took out a few whole cucumbers that she stole from the kitchen when the cooks weren’t looking and showed it to the water spirit. “Here. I know well enough that you haven’t really eaten anything since you were brought to my father.”

The kappa looked between its’ offering and the young high priestess, most likely scared thanks to its recent past experience with a jujutsu sorcerer. Eventually, it quickly snatched a cucumber from her hand and took a couple of bites of it while staring at Uga.

She took off her shoes so she could soak her sore feet, sighed in relief once the feet hit the water. “I really needed this soak.” The princess made eye contact with the river yokai, who was slowly eating the rest of the cucumbers right beside her. “I’m guessing you don’t trust me still. Fair enough. I wouldn’t trust the next jujutsu sorcerer after what you went through.”

When she was younger, Nintoku would often tell her and her siblings stories that painted mythical creatures horribly and told them to run as jujutsu sorcerers who encountered a mythical creature and stay were those with a death wise. He wasn’t really wrong, but she still thought differently. She wanted to understand the mythical, not really hurt them like her other siblings wanted to once they were strong enough jujutsu sorcerers.

Oh, how she wished that some of her other siblings believed what Uga did. Maybe they could’ve run away together and learn about the mythological mysteries.

“If I continue on feet, then those searches would surely catch up to me,” she said to herself. That was when she came up with the perfect idea. Her father was in charge of her cursed energy training and he was worse than the official trainer. He wanted them to have the strength of a Special Grade. Unforuently, at least half of her siblings could barely handle a Grade 3 spirit, with Uga being the lucky few with immense cursed energy.

The searchers, on the other hand, couldn’t handle a Grade 2 curse.

“It appears that Father did manage to teach me something during my training period,” she then made an arrow from the river water and looked at the kappa one last time before getting up. “What to do when a challenge presents itself.”

She ran away from the river and went in the direction that she just came from, leaving the kappa confused. It took the remaining cucumbers and swam away from the shore.

[thejustmaiden]

Just bcos u PERCEIVE SessRin as something that promotes pedophilia and grooming doesn't mean that's how the author portrayed it. It's disappointing to see that antis force such idea, as if they know what's inside Rumiko's mind. It is fine if u find sessrin cringey. Just don't force your idea of pedophilia and grooming as THE CORRECT PORTRAYAL OF SESSRIN.

Hello there, nonnie! You had quite the party in my ask box, I see. Breaking it up in parts may actually help me get to the point and address your concerns swiftly and accordingly. Here goes nothing. 😉

This answer is for your first two asks by the way. Firstly, you're putting words in my mouth because I do not view Rumiko as an author who promotes pedophilia and child grooming and never have. She never once placed an ounce of romance into their scenes. Rin was essentially introduced to serve as a catalyst for Sesshomaru's character growth. That's major in and of itself, which is why I'm not sure why she needs to be the mom on top of all that she's already done for him. It was you, Sessrin shippers, who had to go and make it romantic, not us. It was you who took every innocent scene and turned it into a romantic one. You'll even use some of their scenes as proof they will end up together, then back-pedal later and say those very same scenes weren't romantic in order to protect the sanctity of your ship. I mean, which is it? It can't be both, it's either one or the other.

I repeat, NO we don’t actually think Rumiko wanted to portray this relationship with pedophillic or grooming tendencies. It's you shippers who insist there is no other way for their relationship to evolve, as if you speak on behalf of Rumiko. Your interpretation of Rumiko's work is what implies child grooming; she may not be condoning it but your perspective sure is. You talk down to antis who disagree, because in your opinion, your interpretation is not only superior but already canon in your eyes. You're doing a disservice to this fandom by spreading false information like that when you try to pass it off as official. So if it's anyone that assumes they know what goes on inside Rumiko's head, it's YOU. Somewhere down the road in the (un)foreseeable future, it's you who changes course since remember we were all in agreement at the beginning that their relationship wasn't romantic. So what did I miss? Please break it down for me and explain what exactly influenced you to change your mind, then describe in detail how again this transition in their relationship magically came to be. It's you who came to that decision on your own- nobody helped you get there, and certainly not Rumiko (as you said yourself). The user boycottyashahime put it better than I did, so here is the link to their post. I highly recommend you read it if you haven't already. I urge you to keep an open mind about it while reading, too. You may not like what they have to say, but there's no denying they make excellent points all the same.

I'm pretty sure I catch your drift, but can you clarify if you're referring to historical context or cultural context? I suppose both can be applied here. haha Anyway, from what I gather, you believe that fans should be on board with the idea of Sessrin and at the very least tolerate the pairing. Whether they ship it or not, you believe this simply for the fact that the story takes place in the feudal era and couples with a similar relationship back then were more than acceptable. The thing is, we may be transported to Feudal Japan in this story but we're still taking our modern day morals with us for the trip. I have a whole ass blog dedicated to the significance of fiction in real life (convienently pinned on my page) if you wanna check it out. I also discuss what age-appropriate content is and isn't for Inuyasha viewers in this recent ask here that I find is also pretty relevant to the convo.

Alrighty, moving onto your next point. I can't stress enough to you guys that this isn't a mere Caucasian vs. Non-Caucasian dilemma. I'm a POC, so I ask that you please not presume to know things about me you couldn't possibly know unless we met or I shared it with you. In fact, many of the other antis I frequently chat with are POCs like myself. So for all that's good and holy, please stop ignoring us when we say: THERE ARE FANS IN JAPAN WHO HATE THIS SHIP TOO. THIS ISN'T A DIFFERENCE OF CULTURE, THIS IS A DIFFERENCE OF OPINION (& FACT). It may have not been called child grooming during that time, but that doesn't mean that it wasn't; it just went under a different name, that's literally it.

Let me give you another example. So if I'm watching a movie about WWII in Nazi Germany, am I supposed to sympathize with an SS officer if the story is being narrated from his point of view? Because in his mind and during that time period, his ideology is right. Like a lot of Germany during that war, I rally to support his leader for what is in my opinion a just cause. Tell me, how does context matter in this instance? Does it matter so much so that you would adopt the same ideals just because it was "historically accurate" and you don't see anything wrong with it when you put yourself in their shoes? Does the "it's just fiction" defense come into play here, too?

The illustration I believe you are referring to is the calendar with that one official illustrator for Inuyasha, right? The thing is, an official illustrator doesn’t equal the creator of Inuyasha. They may support the Sessrin ship, but their work has no connection to the Inuyasha series in any way besides the name affiliation. I've heard that the illustrator also included Kagome x Koga art, so should we take that seriously then too? Rumiko never once alluded to a future romance between Sesshomaru and Rin, to which you even (kinda) agreed. She described their relationship as neither parental or romantic, and she added that she even contemplated making Rin a boy at first. Fun facts, y'all!

I've heard about those magazines but they sound fishy to me. Would you mind sending me a link to a reliable source that comes with an English translation? I'd like to emphasize again that illustrators or VAs can do and say as they please, but their opinions are still only opinions at the end of the day. Nothing is set in stone until Rumiko says it is.

For one, I never said my interpretation was the only correct portrayal. That's you putting words in my mouth again. What I did say, however, was that my interpretation was more logical and reasonable than yours based on popular and widely-accepted story patterns found in real life and in fiction. Look this isn't about who's more "correct" or not. You can perceive Sesshomaru and Rin's relationship any damn way you want, BUT what you cannot do is dictate how we react to your depiction of this ship. You can't demand us to view your ship a certain way to fit your preferences. I'm sure all the hate on your ship can be unbearable at times, but that's just the cross you'll have to bear for supporting such a problematic couple. If a large part of any fandom is strongly against a pairing and what it represents, then there's usually a very legitimate reason for that. You may not want to hear this, but certainly you must realize there's some truth to it all. A couple of your fellow shippers have even admitted to me that Sessrin would be wrong IRL. You see what I mean? Even if we find the ship gross, antis don't care if you choose to ship Sessrin. All we care about is you acknowledging that, like IRL, Sessrin potentially poses a lot of problems for young viewers and how they come to make sense of and view similar situations that are borderline grooming or the very thing itself. Teens watching this show are more vulnerable and impressionable, which is why it's crucial to not show relationships like Sessrin in a favorable light. If they're ever put in a situation IRL that resembles Sessrin, they need to be aware and understand that it's not at all normal or healthy for that adult to make a move on them. Let's say Sessrin does go canon, then that would mean Rin had to get pregnant around 14 or 15. Sending that kind of message to an audience made up of mostly teenagers isn't exactly wise if you ask me. Please really think about that and sit with it if you need to.

I'm positive I'm following the same story, thank you very much. Also, how can you be so confident making a statement like that when I have actual Sessrin shippers praising me for making valid points? Sorry to break it to you, but I don't think I'm as lost as you claim me to be or wish that I was.

That's a wrap, peeps!

Read over what I had to say again later and then get back to me if want, but only write me back if you plan to be respectful. Otherwise I will decline to answer. Just keep that in mind. And may I suggest only sending 1 or 2 asks at a time? Please and thank you!

I think I may know exactly who are, nonnie, but I can't say for sure. Besides, it doesn't really matter, as you have a right to stay anonymous if you so wish to. Listen, don't forget you are also more than welcome to interact (but appropriately) on my blogs/asks/etc. If you are who I think you are, then you recently did make a comment on one of them but didn't stick around when I replied back (and for good reason). Finally, if you hope to ever have a real discussion about this topic someday, first put your ego aside and refrain from throwing insults and then I'll hear you out. I have never once put you down in all of our interactions, so there's no need to show up here all riled up and aggravated in the first place. There's also no need to laugh at or mock other's opinions. Don't take jabs and assume I must not know something about Inuyasha just because I don't support your point of view. I may not agree with your opinion, but you don't see me having a condescending air about it.

Apologies if you're not the member I believe you to be, but no offense, you probably still needed to hear all of that too. It's not included here since I answered it immediately, but that final ask you sent me where you got angry and assumed I wasn't going to answer you was totally uncalled for. If you ever hope someday to participate in real discourse with me or any other antis, you should take my advice and seriously chill and learn how to be patient.

Hope this finds you well, nonnie!

[bomberqueen17]

The bit in Little Fishie, where Geralt passes his super-cryptic message for Jaskier to the soldiers, made me laugh out loud in the midst of a pretty heavy angsty scene. I love the way you can insert those moments of absurdity that feel so real.

<3 Thank you! (I am still doing this askmeme guys, don’t judge me. I put it in the queue because it cheers me up so much all this time later.) And it’s funny because someone else commented on the whole extended reveal situation, but this part of it specifically is a part I enjoyed-- of course having Geralt laugh until he can’t breathe is entertaining but I really love this kind of shit, where there’s room for humor in a real dark scene. I have been a fan of this for ages, and it’s something you see in very old sources. I wrote a whole paper on it in college about the sudden whiplashes in tone in the Irish medieval epic the Tain bo Cuiliagne, where you’ll have the hero give a lengthy speech about the dignity of his foe and how little he wants to fight him, and then conclude it with “but if he dares to face me, I’ll still rip his head off” more or less verbatim-- of course I wrote this paper so long ago I don’t have any of the materials digitally, ha (O WordPerfect I hardly knew ye).

But I’ve always been a big fan of that sort of thing, and I love incorporating that into scenes. Geralt is a perfect protagonist for that, as well, since he’s got that inhuman ability to recover from very serious wounds, and the whole Witchers Don’t Feel Pain ridiculous stoicism that’s clearly fictional but equally clearly meaningful as an ethos, and so on-- really ripe for this kind of shit. I was delighted to get to pull it off.

Sometimes as an author you’re like hm perhaps this reveals too much of me but I’m sort of past that now, though it’s been humbling to go back thru my stuff for this askmeme and be like oh heh all these stories have the same underlying themes and in fact sometimes the thing someone’s mentioning occurs in more than one place. ha ha. But I’m not all that self-conscious about it. my id is pretty uhhhhhhh obvious. I definitely like pretty boys badly injured stoically cracking wise on death’s door, and that is not an uncommon literary theme, so. (from Little Fishie, chapter 5.)

“It might kill you,” Eirich said. “Do you have a family? Is there anyone we should send word?”

The Witcher closed his eyes for a moment. “Just-- give my medallion-- to the next-- Witcher you see,” he said. “They’ll know.”

Eirich nodded, and went to his bag, laying out supplies. “Anyone else we should send word to?”

“Your friend,” Benrick said. “Or-- weren’t you traveling with someone?”

The Witcher blinked, glanced at him, and closed his eyes again. “Yeah,” he said. “The kid. Jaskier. Bard.”

“I heard he was ill,” Benrick said. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah,” the Witcher said again. “But if he lives-- I promised him-- answer to a riddle.”

“I’ll tell him,” Benrick said.

The Witcher opened his eyes. “Only if he lives,” he said.

“Nobody lives forever,” Benrick pointed out.

The Witcher laughed a little, and coughed, and blood came out of his mouth, shocking red on the white of his skin. “Fair,” he said. “Nngh. Tell him-- she eats them.”

“She eats them,” Benrick echoed, a little puzzled. It wasn’t a riddle he’d heard before.

“He’ll understand,” the Witcher said. “She. Eats. Them.”

“I’ll tell him,” Benrick said.

“Only if he-- lives,” the Witcher said again. He squeezed his eyes shut, clearly in pain.

[tina-nina]

Lauriam, Marluxia, call him what you want, we know you want to talk about him

MY BOY

Why I like him: he’s fabulous and knows it. He may have been mistaken, but he DID know there was something fishy about the Org and proceeded to try and do something about it. His solution left a lot to be desired but hey: it was a solution even if it was a  b a d  one. As Lauriam he is a Good Big Bro full of sass. His death scene made me cry. His scythe is super cool and gets summoned in a flurry of flower petals.

Why I don’t: This more has to do with his CoM personality (before he and roughly half the org were chilled out for future games), but he’s cruel, does not care for the lives under his command, blackmailed and mentally tormented Naminé enough that she was terrified of him, and also was just an all-around Dick in that game. (though that could be said about all the CoM group, they were pretty shitty people until it was decided that they were needed for future games and that they needed to be at least somewhat likable. Axel, I love you, but you are trash in CoM).

Favorite scene: It may have made me cry but his KH3 death scene was *chef’s kiss*. Honorable mention goes to UX scene with him and his sister talking before the whole white coat thing we still do not have a proper explanation for 

Favorite Line: “And now I am on the cusp of reclaiming my identity... my purpose for being... thanks to you, Sora.”

Favorite Outfit: He only has two, and as cool as his Organization coat is, I like his Daybreak outfit better

OTP: I don’t really have one for him, or at least not any ship im more partial to over any other, at least keeping inside KH as a fandom. I always thought Marluxia/Larxene was cute enough, but also @arya-rayne‘s fic Bloody Sakura Rose has Marluxia/Summer Rose as a ship and I think it's super cute

BroTP: Marluxia and Larxene, Marluxia and Demyx (no in-game evidence but shhh), Lauriam and Blaine

Headcanon: why has my brain suddenly fled Canon wise, Marluxia was particularly vicious to Namine cause she reminded him of something or someone but since he couldn't remember what it made him angry instead.

Unpopular Opinion:  I don't want him to turn evil back in the AoF and have that be his start as a nobody (is that unpopular? I dunno)

A Wish: Let him see his sister again pls. let him make amends even if its just living life on some remote world as a florist with his sister

An oh-god-please-dont-let-this-happen: Please don't stay dead, your story is NOT over (in my heart if nothing else) please come back and bring more UX lore with you into something that isnt a phone game

5 words to best describe them: oh god uhhh Conniving, Pretty, tragic, flowery, sad

My Nickname: Marly/Laurie

[dreams-of-middle-earth]

Tagged by the lovely @the--queen-of-hell thank you!! 😄

Rules: bold the statements that apply to you, italicize your aspirations, then tag nine people.

AIR

i have small hands / i love the night sky / i watch small animals and birds when i pass them by / i drink herbal tea / i wake to see dawn / the smell of dust is comforting / i’m valued for being wise / i prefer books to music / i meditate / i find joy in learning new truths from the world around me

FIRE

i don’t have straight hair / i like to wear ripped jeans and overalls / i play an organized sport / i love dogs / i am not afraid of adventure / i love to talk to strangers / i always try new foods / i enjoy road trips / summer is my favorite season / my radio is always playing

WATER

i wear bracelets on my wrists / i love the bustle of the city / i have more than one set of piercings / i read poetry / i love the sound of a thunderstorm / i want to travel the world / i sleep past midday most days / i love dimly lit diners and fluorescent signs / i rewatch kids’ shows out of nostalgia / i see emotions in colors not words

EARTH

i wear glasses or contacts / i enjoy doing the laundry / i am a vegetarian or vegan / i have an excellent sense of time / my humor is very cheerful / i am a valued advisor to my friends / i believe in true love / i love the chill of mountain air / i’m always listening to music / i am highly trusted by the people in my life

AETHER

i go without makeup in my daily life / i make my own artwork / i keep on track of my tasks and time / i always know true north / i see beauty in everything / i can always smell flowers / i smile at everyone i pass by / i always fear history repeating itself / i have recovered from a mental disorder / i can love unconditionally

I tag: @liliemsharpe @insert-geeky-things-here @ohdebt @emilyymichelle @vtforpedro @fishy-strawberries @sweetestgbye and anyone who wants to join!