#they cared about making this country’s image look good for a bit back then but now and recently? mask off; full salute: they don’t care

[r0semultiverse]

Obviously this is a joke, a silly venting out frustrations JOKE. I’m an influencer, we make jokes. It’s all funnies here.

Joking current joking mood is (again this is a joke obviously)

[moonlightpetalz6]

When You're Gone

Characters: Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Nanami Kento

Reader: Fem!reader

Warnings: Angst, readers death, violence, blood, swearing, pet names

Context: The reader ends up dying due to missions/illness. This is their reaction after you are gone.

Word Count: 3,109

A/N: Hi! Hi! I'm pretty new here so I hope I'm doing this right. I wanted to get back into writing so I thought why not give this a try! I hope you all can enjoy it!

Part 2

______________________________________________________________

Gojo

Gojo stood there with his eyes wide and mouth slightly open as he listened to Shoko give him the news. "Gojo… I'm so sorry." She whispered, unable to make eye contact with her old friend. He said nothing; all Gojo could do was stand there, his body trembling as his sapphire eyes trailed towards the open door behind Shoko, whose lips were still moving. There, through the small opening, he could see it. The table in which your now dead body lay unmoving and cold. 'She's right there…' Gojo thought while his fingers twitched, eyes wavering. 

Shoko, who hadn't been able to look at her friend, slowly lifted her eyes only to stare in shock at what was before her. Gojo stood there not uttering a single word while tears leaked from his eyes. Shoko took note of the blood dripping from his lip as he unconsciously bit down on the tender flesh. "Gojo you-" He was gone Before she could finish her sentence. Three days later, he watched as your body entered the ground, or at least what was left of your body. "They say it was a special grade curse. It came out of nowhere and killed her comrades and the other sorcerers with her." Someone whispered. "I heard that Gojo was supposed to accompany them but got busy with another mission." Another added. 

Gojo stood silently before your grave, his eyes masked with a blindfold. Though he appeared like he wasn't listening to anyone, he was. He listened to everyone at your funeral, ensuring that no one had bad-mouthed your name in his presence. 'Good…your name is still clean, my star.' 

About a week after your death, Gojo requested to go on a mission due to his eagerness to get back into the field, so soon after your death, rumors began to spread amongst the sorcerers. Some said that Gojo was running away, while others claimed he never cared for you. As these rumors spread back home in another area of the country, Gojo stood in a deep crater; blood littered the space around him as curses kept coming from all directions. Gojo stood there, his usual sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose. 

He let out a deep breath while stepping forward, his body wobbling as if he wasn't fully aware of his movements. "Enough…" He whispered, his voice filled with venom. The curses paid him no mind while charging towards the sorcerer, each one determined to end his life. Gojo grits his teeth; if his jaw were to clench more, it would break. "Just hurry up and fucking die! All of you!" he shouted, tears running down his face. Gojo's eyes, usually so clear and bright as day, were bloodshot and contained a dark hue. "Die! Die! Die! Dammit!" He screamed as loud as he could while annihilating every curse. 

Gojo's mind was blank of all rational thinking, his breathing heavy while his chest ached with each movement he made. "Why do you keep taking them from me?!?! What did I do to you, dammit?!?!" Gojo cursed all the gods, his heart unable to process any more pain. An image of you flashed through his mind. You were so beautiful as you stood in front of him. Your body language was everywhere as you shyly avoided eye contact with him. 

"Haha! What's got you acting all shy like this? Am I that handsome that just standing next to me is too much?!" He cried out dramatically while pretending to shy away from false embarrassment. You stood there with a pout while looking up at your childish boyfriend. "Oh, shut up! As if!" Gojo just laughed while you punched his chest. You looked at him with a slight frown on your face. "Why do you always do that?" Gojo hummed, looking at you with a curious brow. "You always let me touch you…why?" Your question caused him to look up in thought before he smiled. "Don't know! I guess I love you that much!" He laughed, watching the giant blush cross your face as you looked away. 

"A-anyways, Here!" You yelled, shoving the neatly wrapped gift towards him. He looked at the present, slightly surprised, before smiling as he happily snatched it from your hand. "Oh~ What's this~?" he sang while carefully unwrapping the gift. He smiled, seeing the glasses case, remembering how he had mentioned needing a new pair of sunglasses almost a month ago. He carefully opened the case, noting that this was the brand he loved. You were always so thoughtful and careful when it came to details. He loved how your eye would twitch whenever he purposely forgot an item you needed for events or cooking. 

 "So you won't complain anymore." Your words snapped him out of his thoughts as he looked at you. You stood there with a slight pout as you nervously messed with your fingers. "You keep forgetting so…I thought it would be a nice present." He felt his heart flutter as he watched you grow embarrassed, the blush on your face making him want to smother you in kisses. "Awe! My Y/n is the sweetest and most thoughtful!" He gushed while picking you up bridal style. You just screamed at him, face red, "I-idiot! Satoru put me down! I hate you!" You cried out while he just laughed. 

Gojo stood there panting while the last curse vanished before his eyes. Just then, the bridge connecting his lens snapped, causing the sunglasses to fall from his face. He quickly caught them in his hands, staring down at the broken pieces. Tears formed in his eyes again as he bit his lip before falling to his knees. 

"How am I supposed to get new glasses now, Y/n? I can't remember anything without you."

_______

Geto

Geto ran through the hospital corridors, screaming your name as he pushed past anyone in his way. His heart clenched when he turned the corner and saw his friend hunched over while sitting on the waiting bench. "Satoru! Where is she?!" Geto cried as he reached his best friend. Gojo looked at him with a pained expression as he slowly went and stood in front of your boyfriend. Gojo made sure to take in his friend's current appearance. Geto stood there, hands on his knees as his body heaved heavily with each gasp of breath. His hair started falling out of his usually kept bun while his eyes strained and filled with fear. It pained Gojo to see his best friend looking like such a wreck, and for good reason. 

"Suguru…" He spoke in a defeated voice, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. Getos's heart stopped when he heard his name. he could feel his knees shake as he reached for his friend. "Hey…come on." He started as he gripped Gojo's uniform, his knuckles turning white. "She's fine, right, Satoru? She's really strong, remember! So she has to be…fine…" Geto trailed off as his mind processed the wet feeling on his hands. His body stiffened as he slowly looked down at the clothing he held in his fists. There, he noticed the blood staining the fabric. Tears started to spill from his eyes as he shook Gojo while screaming. "No! No! No! You promised me, Satoru!" cries echoed throughout the empty hall as Geto fell to his knees. 

"You both promised me you'd be fine." Those words stung the blue-eyed sorcerer, who couldn't help but fall to the floor with his friend as he held him in his arms, mumbling apologies after apologies. "Tell me this is just one of her jokes, Satoru… It's one of her fucked up jokes." Geto continued to cry as loud as he could, unable to accept your sudden death. The next day, Geto had you cremated and brought you back to your shared home. You had no family and had always talked to him about how if you were to die first, you wished to be turned to ashes so you could still be near him. "What a stupid thing," Geto whispered as he sat on the floor, hugging your urn like it would vanish instantly, just like you had from his life. 

________

Weeks went by, and no one had heard anything from Geto. He stayed locked inside his home, his eyes void of emotion as dark circles lay under his eyes from the immense lack of sleep. He sat on the floor of your shared room, scanning all the clothes and items that littered the area. His eyes felt so dry from all his tears within the last few weeks. He let out a small groan as he pinched the bridge of his nose before taking note of the small hairpin in his hand. It was a black hairpin with gold flakes splattered around it, a small crescent moon resting at the end with two small star chains that hung off it. He remembers seeing you always wear it, claiming it was your favorite. 

"You know I can always buy you a new one, right?" Geto asked as he sat on the edge of your shared bed, his arm resting on his knee as he placed his chin in his palm. "Huh? What are you talking about?" You asked your boyfriend, a questioning look on your face. You were never one to ask for anything, nor did you like it when people bought you things, which was tough for Geto as he just wanted to spoil you. "The hairpin…you wear that one all the time. Don't you want a new one?" You just looked at Geto with a slight smile on your face. 

"I don't mind wearing this one all the time! Besides, it's my favorite one!" You laughed, a slight hue on your cheeks while you went and gently touched the hairpin. "It's so beautiful and brings me joy…p-plus it reminds me of someone." With those last few words, Geto's ears twitched as a sly grin crossed his face. "Oh~ and do say who that someone is, my little angel~" Geto teased as he went and grabbed you by the waist, making sure to pull you back onto the bed with him. You just squealed as you laughed lightly, hitting his chest. 

"Suguru! Stop it, you dummy!" Geto closed his eyes in bliss, loving how your laugh sounded so angelic to his ears. "Gosh, I love your laugh." He whispered as he hid, nuzzled into the crook of your neck. You blush, a slight smile on your face as the hairpin makes a little noise while you move to kiss Geto. He hummed as you pulled away before you started playing with each other's hair. "I love your hair… It's so pretty." You cooed, giving a strand a small kiss. Geto blushed before doing the same to yours. "I love yours as well." 

Geto sat there, tears falling from his eyes once again as he clenched the hairpin in his hand, bringing it towards his lips and placing a shaky kiss. 

"Y/n…my angel… who's going to play with my hair now…I wanna place this hairpin in your hair once again."

________

Nanami

Nanami stood there, eyes wide, as he held your hand in the hospital bed. You had been diagnosed with an incurable illness when you were very young. He knew this when he first asked you to be his girlfriend. He had thought that the disease wouldn't kill you for a long time as it had been over ten years since you had been diagnosed. He was such a fool. About five years into your relationship, your condition took an immense turn for the worse, and you were left bedridden with a time limit of only three months. Nanami couldn't believe you would be going through his life so suddenly. You, his precious flower. 

He had made sure to visit you every single day, minus the days when he was forced away on missions that you would fight him to go on saying things like, "You can't stop saving people and doing your job just cause I'm sick Kento! That's so unattractive!" You would huff while pointing a finger at him. Nanami would flinch as if he were struck with an arrow by your words before setting off the next day to complete the mission as fast as possible. Each day, he would bring you gifts like flowers, books, desserts, you name it. Each time he did, you would scold him, saying things like 'I don't want you to regret spending your money on me.' or 'Kento darling! Just seeing your handsome face is enough for me!' He knew you hated receiving gifts, but at the same time, he loved seeing that soft smile that crossed your face each time it would process in your mind that he was thinking of you. 

"Kento darling?" You whisper while your boyfriend lies with you on the hospital bed, his head resting on your chest as his arms wrap around you tightly. "Yes, my flower?" He lifted his head just so his tired eyes could meet your own. You smiled at him as you raised your hands to gently hold his cheeks, your thumbs rubbing the dark circles under his eyes. He instantly relaxed at the feeling of his eyes fluttering shut. "Have you been getting enough sleep?" Kento opened his eyes and saw your frown, causing him to let out a small chuckle as he went and kissed one of your wrists. It was true he was losing so much sleep, but he couldn't help it. Not having you next to him in your shared bed was killing him.

"I'm sorry, my flower…you know I can't lie to you." He whispered before nuzzling his head back onto your chest. You pout at this while resting a hand on his head, carefully running your fingers through his soft hair. He knew you hated when he overworked himself and wouldn't get proper sleep, but it was the only thing keeping him together. "Don't worry… I'll get some sleep right now." He whispered before shutting his eyes, drifting off to your heartbeat. "Kento…please take care of yourself for me." You would whisper once you knew he was fully asleep. 

_______

Kento held your hand, tears falling from his eyes as the nurses rushed into the room, one of them gently trying to push him away. He couldn't hear a single word anyone was saying as he gripped your now cold hand, refusing to let go of your soft skin for the last time. You just lay on the hospital bed, a faint smile on your face, while Nanami was pulled out of the room, screaming your name. After your funeral, Nanami completely submerged himself in his work, refusing to take any time for himself or others. Gojo would make sure to stop by to at least annoy Nanami into eating and drinking any of the snacks he would bring to ensure his friend would not suffer from starvation or dehydration. 

"Nanami~ I brought you some delicious sweets from this shop I really liked~ Try 'em ~" Gojo sang as he danced into Nanami's office with a plastic bag. Nanami let out a deep sigh from his desk as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Placing his pen down, Nanami slowly lifted his head to look at Gojo, dark circles under his eyes. Gojo whistled, hand on his hip as he placed the bag in front of Nanami with a small thump. "You look like shit." Gojo laughed, earning a low grunt from the man who was already opening some of the snacks given to him. "Hey I'm gonna be going out tomorrow with Itadori if you would like to join us. It's my treat, so at least consider it!" He laughed, giving his friend a thumbs up. 

Nanami just hummed, already deciding in his head that he wouldn't be going. Gojo just smiled as he went to leave while giving a lazy wave. "Get some sleep, will you?! Y/n wouldn't be too happy with you right now!" Nanami frowned at the mention of your name being used to guilt him into sleep. He finished eating some snacks and placed the rest aside for his dinner tonight. He rubs his eyes, leaning back in his chair, as he loosens the tie around his neck. He glances down at his desk, staring at the small photo of you happily smiling while wearing that sundress he always loved seeing on you. He smiles slightly at the memory before shaking his head. 

He sits in his chair, preparing to focus only on his work. 'Energy pills,' he thinks to himself, having remembered keeping some stored in his bottom drawer from when he used to work all the time before he had met you. Nanami reaches into his drawer only to discover a small sleeping kit neatly placed on everything else. Nanami looks at it, surprised, before noticing a small note slip out from behind. He carefully picks the letter up while inspecting the sleeping kit. "Did Gojo slip this in here?" He mumbled to himself, unimpressed with his childish friend. He sighs as he opens the note, only for his eyes to widen at the familiar handwriting. 

My Darling Kento, 

Are you surprised? I knew you would be! I had Kiyotaka slip this into your desk to prepare for the future. I'm sure by now I have left this world along with you, my darling, who cherished me like no one else could have if my life had more years. I'm sorry to have caused you such stress, and I know you would scold me for apologizing. I do not regret anything from what we shared. You filled my life with joy, making this illness seem like some crazy thing I made up! I know you are probably working so hard right now, and I want to remind you to take care of yourself, Kento. Even though I am no longer by your side, it would hurt me to know I have caused you so much pain. Please find more happy memories, my darling Kento. I love you so much. Sleep well~ 

Kento gripped the corner of the letter, feeling it crinkle under his fingers. His giant tears dripped down his face, some landing on your handwriting, causing small smudges. Nanami quickly tries to rid his tears while gritting his teeth before letting out a loud yell as he sweeps everything off his desk, gripping his head as he cries, looking down at the photo of you. 

"That's not fair Y/n…you should be making more memories with me."

__________

Let me know if you would like a part 2 for this with other jjk characters!

[moonywritez6]

When You're Gone (Reupload)

Characters: Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Nanami Kento

Reader: Fem!reader

Warnings: Angst, readers death, violence, blood, swearing, pet names

Context: The reader ends up dying due to missions/illness. This is their reaction after you are gone.

Word Count: 3,109

A/N: Hello my sweets! Unfortunately, I got locked out of my old blog account, so I had to make a new one! So, chances of you having seen this before are high as it's on my old account! (I am so sad about it honestly). But I am going through all my old accounts posts and reuploading them here! I hope you can still enjoy my works!

Part 2

______________________________________________________________

Gojo

Gojo stood there with his eyes wide and mouth slightly open as he listened to Shoko give him the news. "Gojo… I'm so sorry." She whispered, unable to make eye contact with her old friend. He said nothing; all Gojo could do was stand there, his body trembling as his sapphire eyes trailed towards the open door behind Shoko, whose lips were still moving. There, through the small opening, he could see it. The table in which your now dead body lay unmoving and cold. 'She's right there…' Gojo thought while his fingers twitched, eyes wavering. 

Shoko, who hadn't been able to look at her friend, slowly lifted her eyes only to stare in shock at what was before her. Gojo stood there not uttering a single word while tears leaked from his eyes. Shoko took note of the blood dripping from his lip as he unconsciously bit down on the tender flesh. "Gojo you-" He was gone Before she could finish her sentence. Three days later, he watched as your body entered the ground, or at least what was left of your body. "They say it was a special grade curse. It came out of nowhere and killed her comrades and the other sorcerers with her." Someone whispered. "I heard that Gojo was supposed to accompany them but got busy with another mission." Another added. 

Gojo stood silently before your grave, his eyes masked with a blindfold. Though he appeared like he wasn't listening to anyone, he was. He listened to everyone at your funeral, ensuring that no one had bad-mouthed your name in his presence. 'Good…your name is still clean, my star.' 

About a week after your death, Gojo requested to go on a mission due to his eagerness to get back into the field, so soon after your death, rumors began to spread amongst the sorcerers. Some said that Gojo was running away, while others claimed he never cared for you. As these rumors spread back home in another area of the country, Gojo stood in a deep crater; blood littered the space around him as curses kept coming from all directions. Gojo stood there, his usual sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose. 

He let out a deep breath while stepping forward, his body wobbling as if he wasn't fully aware of his movements. "Enough…" He whispered, his voice filled with venom. The curses paid him no mind while charging towards the sorcerer, each one determined to end his life. Gojo grits his teeth; if his jaw were to clench more, it would break. "Just hurry up and fucking die! All of you!" he shouted, tears running down his face. Gojo's eyes, usually so clear and bright as day, were bloodshot and contained a dark hue. "Die! Die! Die! Dammit!" He screamed as loud as he could while annihilating every curse. 

Gojo's mind was blank of all rational thinking, his breathing heavy while his chest ached with each movement he made. "Why do you keep taking them from me?!?! What did I do to you, dammit?!?!" Gojo cursed all the gods, his heart unable to process any more pain. An image of you flashed through his mind. You were so beautiful as you stood in front of him. Your body language was everywhere as you shyly avoided eye contact with him. 

"Haha! What's got you acting all shy like this? Am I that handsome that just standing next to me is too much?!" He cried out dramatically while pretending to shy away from false embarrassment. You stood there with a pout while looking up at your childish boyfriend. "Oh, shut up! As if!" Gojo just laughed while you punched his chest. You looked at him with a slight frown on your face. "Why do you always do that?" Gojo hummed, looking at you with a curious brow. "You always let me touch you…why?" Your question caused him to look up in thought before he smiled. "Don't know! I guess I love you that much!" He laughed, watching the giant blush cross your face as you looked away. 

"A-anyways, Here!" You yelled, shoving the neatly wrapped gift towards him. He looked at the present, slightly surprised, before smiling as he happily snatched it from your hand. "Oh~ What's this~?" he sang while carefully unwrapping the gift. He smiled, seeing the glasses case, remembering how he had mentioned needing a new pair of sunglasses almost a month ago. He carefully opened the case, noting that this was the brand he loved. You were always so thoughtful and careful when it came to details. He loved how your eye would twitch whenever he purposely forgot an item you needed for events or cooking. 

 "So you won't complain anymore." Your words snapped him out of his thoughts as he looked at you. You stood there with a slight pout as you nervously messed with your fingers. "You keep forgetting so…I thought it would be a nice present." He felt his heart flutter as he watched you grow embarrassed, the blush on your face making him want to smother you in kisses. "Awe! My Y/n is the sweetest and most thoughtful!" He gushed while picking you up bridal style. You just screamed at him, face red, "I-idiot! Satoru put me down! I hate you!" You cried out while he just laughed. 

Gojo stood there panting while the last curse vanished before his eyes. Just then, the bridge connecting his lens snapped, causing the sunglasses to fall from his face. He quickly caught them in his hands, staring down at the broken pieces. Tears formed in his eyes again as he bit his lip before falling to his knees. 

"How am I supposed to get new glasses now, Y/n? I can't remember anything without you."

_______

Geto

Geto ran through the hospital corridors, screaming your name as he pushed past anyone in his way. His heart clenched when he turned the corner and saw his friend hunched over while sitting on the waiting bench. "Satoru! Where is she?!" Geto cried as he reached his best friend. Gojo looked at him with a pained expression as he slowly went and stood in front of your boyfriend. Gojo made sure to take in his friend's current appearance. Geto stood there, hands on his knees as his body heaved heavily with each gasp of breath. His hair started falling out of his usually kept bun while his eyes strained and filled with fear. It pained Gojo to see his best friend looking like such a wreck, and for good reason. 

"Suguru…" He spoke in a defeated voice, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. Getos's heart stopped when he heard his name. he could feel his knees shake as he reached for his friend. "Hey…come on." He started as he gripped Gojo's uniform, his knuckles turning white. "She's fine, right, Satoru? She's really strong, remember! So she has to be…fine…" Geto trailed off as his mind processed the wet feeling on his hands. His body stiffened as he slowly looked down at the clothing he held in his fists. There, he noticed the blood staining the fabric. Tears started to spill from his eyes as he shook Gojo while screaming. "No! No! No! You promised me, Satoru!" cries echoed throughout the empty hall as Geto fell to his knees. 

"You both promised me you'd be fine." Those words stung the blue-eyed sorcerer, who couldn't help but fall to the floor with his friend as he held him in his arms, mumbling apologies after apologies. "Tell me this is just one of her jokes, Satoru… It's one of her fucked up jokes." Geto continued to cry as loud as he could, unable to accept your sudden death. The next day, Geto had you cremated and brought you back to your shared home. You had no family and had always talked to him about how if you were to die first, you wished to be turned to ashes so you could still be near him. "What a stupid thing," Geto whispered as he sat on the floor, hugging your urn like it would vanish instantly, just like you had from his life. 

________

Weeks went by, and no one had heard anything from Geto. He stayed locked inside his home, his eyes void of emotion as dark circles lay under his eyes from the immense lack of sleep. He sat on the floor of your shared room, scanning all the clothes and items that littered the area. His eyes felt so dry from all his tears within the last few weeks. He let out a small groan as he pinched the bridge of his nose before taking note of the small hairpin in his hand. It was a black hairpin with gold flakes splattered around it, a small crescent moon resting at the end with two small star chains that hung off it. He remembers seeing you always wear it, claiming it was your favorite. 

"You know I can always buy you a new one, right?" Geto asked as he sat on the edge of your shared bed, his arm resting on his knee as he placed his chin in his palm. "Huh? What are you talking about?" You asked your boyfriend, a questioning look on your face. You were never one to ask for anything, nor did you like it when people bought you things, which was tough for Geto as he just wanted to spoil you. "The hairpin…you wear that one all the time. Don't you want a new one?" You just looked at Geto with a slight smile on your face. 

"I don't mind wearing this one all the time! Besides, it's my favorite one!" You laughed, a slight hue on your cheeks while you went and gently touched the hairpin. "It's so beautiful and brings me joy…p-plus it reminds me of someone." With those last few words, Geto's ears twitched as a sly grin crossed his face. "Oh~ and do say who that someone is, my little angel~" Geto teased as he went and grabbed you by the waist, making sure to pull you back onto the bed with him. You just squealed as you laughed lightly, hitting his chest. 

"Suguru! Stop it, you dummy!" Geto closed his eyes in bliss, loving how your laugh sounded so angelic to his ears. "Gosh, I love your laugh." He whispered as he hid, nuzzled into the crook of your neck. You blush, a slight smile on your face as the hairpin makes a little noise while you move to kiss Geto. He hummed as you pulled away before you started playing with each other's hair. "I love your hair… It's so pretty." You cooed, giving a strand a small kiss. Geto blushed before doing the same to yours. "I love yours as well." 

Geto sat there, tears falling from his eyes once again as he clenched the hairpin in his hand, bringing it towards his lips and placing a shaky kiss. 

"Y/n…my angel… who's going to play with my hair now…I wanna place this hairpin in your hair once again."

________

Nanami

Nanami stood there, eyes wide, as he held your hand in the hospital bed. You had been diagnosed with an incurable illness when you were very young. He knew this when he first asked you to be his girlfriend. He had thought that the disease wouldn't kill you for a long time as it had been over ten years since you had been diagnosed. He was such a fool. About five years into your relationship, your condition took an immense turn for the worse, and you were left bedridden with a time limit of only three months. Nanami couldn't believe you would be going through his life so suddenly. You, his precious flower. 

He had made sure to visit you every single day, minus the days when he was forced away on missions that you would fight him to go on saying things like, "You can't stop saving people and doing your job just cause I'm sick Kento! That's so unattractive!" You would huff while pointing a finger at him. Nanami would flinch as if he were struck with an arrow by your words before setting off the next day to complete the mission as fast as possible. Each day, he would bring you gifts like flowers, books, desserts, you name it. Each time he did, you would scold him, saying things like 'I don't want you to regret spending your money on me.' or 'Kento darling! Just seeing your handsome face is enough for me!' He knew you hated receiving gifts, but at the same time, he loved seeing that soft smile that crossed your face each time it would process in your mind that he was thinking of you. 

"Kento darling?" You whisper while your boyfriend lies with you on the hospital bed, his head resting on your chest as his arms wrap around you tightly. "Yes, my flower?" He lifted his head just so his tired eyes could meet your own. You smiled at him as you raised your hands to gently hold his cheeks, your thumbs rubbing the dark circles under his eyes. He instantly relaxed at the feeling of his eyes fluttering shut. "Have you been getting enough sleep?" Kento opened his eyes and saw your frown, causing him to let out a small chuckle as he went and kissed one of your wrists. It was true he was losing so much sleep, but he couldn't help it. Not having you next to him in your shared bed was killing him.

"I'm sorry, my flower…you know I can't lie to you." He whispered before nuzzling his head back onto your chest. You pout at this while resting a hand on his head, carefully running your fingers through his soft hair. He knew you hated when he overworked himself and wouldn't get proper sleep, but it was the only thing keeping him together. "Don't worry… I'll get some sleep right now." He whispered before shutting his eyes, drifting off to your heartbeat. "Kento…please take care of yourself for me." You would whisper once you knew he was fully asleep. 

_______

Kento held your hand, tears falling from his eyes as the nurses rushed into the room, one of them gently trying to push him away. He couldn't hear a single word anyone was saying as he gripped your now cold hand, refusing to let go of your soft skin for the last time. You just lay on the hospital bed, a faint smile on your face, while Nanami was pulled out of the room, screaming your name. After your funeral, Nanami completely submerged himself in his work, refusing to take any time for himself or others. Gojo would make sure to stop by to at least annoy Nanami into eating and drinking any of the snacks he would bring to ensure his friend would not suffer from starvation or dehydration. 

"Nanami~ I brought you some delicious sweets from this shop I really liked~ Try 'em ~" Gojo sang as he danced into Nanami's office with a plastic bag. Nanami let out a deep sigh from his desk as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Placing his pen down, Nanami slowly lifted his head to look at Gojo, dark circles under his eyes. Gojo whistled, hand on his hip as he placed the bag in front of Nanami with a small thump. "You look like shit." Gojo laughed, earning a low grunt from the man who was already opening some of the snacks given to him. "Hey I'm gonna be going out tomorrow with Itadori if you would like to join us. It's my treat, so at least consider it!" He laughed, giving his friend a thumbs up. 

Nanami just hummed, already deciding in his head that he wouldn't be going. Gojo just smiled as he went to leave while giving a lazy wave. "Get some sleep, will you?! Y/n wouldn't be too happy with you right now!" Nanami frowned at the mention of your name being used to guilt him into sleep. He finished eating some snacks and placed the rest aside for his dinner tonight. He rubs his eyes, leaning back in his chair, as he loosens the tie around his neck. He glances down at his desk, staring at the small photo of you happily smiling while wearing that sundress he always loved seeing on you. He smiles slightly at the memory before shaking his head. 

He sits in his chair, preparing to focus only on his work. 'Energy pills,' he thinks to himself, having remembered keeping some stored in his bottom drawer from when he used to work all the time before he had met you. Nanami reaches into his drawer only to discover a small sleeping kit neatly placed on everything else. Nanami looks at it, surprised, before noticing a small note slip out from behind. He carefully picks the letter up while inspecting the sleeping kit. "Did Gojo slip this in here?" He mumbled to himself, unimpressed with his childish friend. He sighs as he opens the note, only for his eyes to widen at the familiar handwriting. 

My Darling Kento, 

Are you surprised? I knew you would be! I had Kiyotaka slip this into your desk to prepare for the future. I'm sure by now I have left this world along with you, my darling, who cherished me like no one else could have if my life had more years. I'm sorry to have caused you such stress, and I know you would scold me for apologizing. I do not regret anything from what we shared. You filled my life with joy, making this illness seem like some crazy thing I made up! I know you are probably working so hard right now, and I want to remind you to take care of yourself, Kento. Even though I am no longer by your side, it would hurt me to know I have caused you so much pain. Please find more happy memories, my darling Kento. I love you so much. Sleep well~ 

Kento gripped the corner of the letter, feeling it crinkle under his fingers. His giant tears dripped down his face, some landing on your handwriting, causing small smudges. Nanami quickly tries to rid his tears while gritting his teeth before letting out a loud yell as he sweeps everything off his desk, gripping his head as he cries, looking down at the photo of you. 

"That's not fair Y/n…you should be making more memories with me."

[yaboywillyshakes]

tfw someone gets a historical fact wrong in a fanfiction but it's about something you care about, so you end up making tag yourself memes for two days as if that's gonna solve it

[image IDs under the cut]

First Image: A "Tag Yourself" meme on a white background. It is titled "Tag Yourself: Butte, Montana Edition." Underneath the title are three rows of three pictures. Starting from left to right, the first picture is a white and black restaurant logo for Pork Chop John's which includes a pig's head wearing a crown. Above the logo is written "Mr. Pork Chop John." Below the logo are the bullet points: "best with miracle whip," "really loves bread," and "branding? who's that." In the middle top position, there is a black & white picture of a white man in a newspaper clipping from 1918. He is wearing a dark suit & there is no background to the picture. It is titled "Local Hero Manus Dugan." Beneath the picture are the bullet points: "hard to photograph," "puts others before themselves," and "error: location not found." The picture on the right of the top row is of a mineshaft headframe silhouetted against the sky. It is titled "Mineshaft Headframe," and beneath it are the bullet points: "looks great in profile," "was useful once," and "named something cool." The leftmost picture in the middle row is of a snow goose. It is titled "Arsenic-Filled Snow Goose," and is followed by these bullet points: "bad at choosing housing," "dead inside," and "always travels with the squad." The middle picture is a logo for a casino called "Lucky Lil's." The logo is multiple shades of purple and white, and contains the name of the casino and a drawing of a saloon girl with blonde hair." The image is titled "Lucky Lil," and the bullet points below are: "always has the good liquor," "house always way too dark," and "cleavage causes lesbian awakenings." The picture on the right of the middle row is of a huge, solid white statue of the Virgin Mary perched on a mountain top; it has similar vibes to the statue of Christ the Redeemer in Buenos Aires. This image is titled "Our Lady of the Rockies," and is followed by the bullet points: "really over it all," "fond of helicopters," and "doesn't understand the separation of church and state." The picture on the left hand side of the bottom row is another casino logo; it is a white woman with brown hair wearing cowgirl attire encircled by a horseshoe over orange block letters that read "Montana Lil's." The logo is titled "Montana Lil," and the bullet points beneath it are: "trying too hard to be country," "never pays your money back," and "mafia connections?." The middle picture on the bottom row is of a hand pie on white plate. The pie is split down the middle and contains meat chunks, carrots and potatoes. It is labelled "Traditional Cornish Pasty." Beneath the pasty are the bullet points: "full of good things," "forgets to wash hands," and "easy to get along with." The picture on the bottom right of the meme is a black and white picture of a white man looking directly into the camera. He is wearing a medium toned suit and a fedora worn at an angle, and has a bit of a lopsided scowl. The picture is titled "IWW Organizer Frank Little," and is followed by the points: "has the charisma," "likely to die under mysterious circumstances," and "really over capitalism."

Second Image: A "Tag Yourself" meme on a white background. It is titled "Tag Yourself: Helena, Montana Edition." Underneath the title are three rows of three pictures. Starting from left to right, the first picture is of some teenagers dressed in cowboy attire climbing makeshift gallows on a parade float. Above the picture is written "Vigilante Day Parade." Below the logo are the bullet points: "likes the cheap beer," "celebrates local history," and "racist undertones." In the middle top position, there is a color photo of a gothic style cathedral with two steeples, made of tan limestone with a red tile roof. An airplane emoji has been pasted between the steeples. It is titled "Catholic Aerial Stunt." Beneath the picture are the bullet points: "needs to lay off the whiskey," "incredible eye hand coordination," and "no respect for architecture." The picture on the right of the top row is a black and white mugshot of a white woman in mid-to-late middle age. She has a tired expression, a somewhat jowely face, and dark curly hair styled in a 1950s bob. She is holding a signboard that reads: "Lewis and Clark County Sheriff 2715 1-18-57." The mugshot is titled "Big Dorothy," and beneath it are the bullet points: "ungovernable," "pillar of the community," and "cool aunt but bad mom vibes." The leftmost picture in the middle row is of an abandoned strip mall. It is titled "Signs of Urban Decay," and is followed by these bullet points: "vaguely morose," "likes a good burrito," and "doesn't understand landscaping." The middle picture is a black and white photo of a man dressed head to toe in mid century firefighter's gear. The image is titled "Smoke Jumper," and the bullet points below are: "sick threads," "cares about the laws of thermodynamics," and "chased by the reaper." On the right of the middle row is a picture of a whitetail buck at night taken with the flash on. The buck walking past what appears to be a wall of a building in a residential area. This image is titled "Urban Outlaw," and is followed by the bullet points: "has beef with every dog," "wanted by law enforcement," and "hates the paperboy." The picture on the left hand side of the bottom row is of a theatre building made of a red stone. It has three arches over the front door, a triangular roof & a large, round strained glass window over the door. A bedsheet ghost has been poorly photoshopped onto the stairs leading to the door. The image is titled "Grandstreet Theatre Ghost," and the bullet points beneath it are: "constantly misplacing objects," "loves a balcony scene," and "good with kids." The middle picture on the bottom row is a landscape photo of a mountain that vaguely looks like a man laying on his back. It is labelled "Sleeping Giant." Beneath the Sleeping Giant are the bullet points: "#naplyfe," "really photographs well," and "loves a lake day." The picture on the bottom right of the meme is a color photo of a wooden tower structure with four legs and a circular lookout room at the top. The picture is titled "Guardian of the Gulch," and is followed by the points: "the tall friend," "helpful & perceptive," and "has a love/hate relationship with fire."

[bisexualbrainrots]

sooo I was in the shower listening to dua lipa and got this idea. it could follow the kiss probably, but in short: oliver and lou had a fling but fought around november, they’ve been away since then and oliver traveled across the country, lou gets a call around the week he’s back in l.a.

The book wasn’t bad, not at all, but Lou was regretting the spur of the moment purchase of a self-help book. He tried to concentrate, he really did, but his mind kept drifting away to the same reason he bought the book in the first place.

He reached for his phone, about to log onto his Instagram, until he got a call incoming.

He was calling.

Lou cursed under his breath, Why haven’t I blocked his number yet? he thought

Because you still miss it.

Despite the way his body was screaming at him not to answer, he swiped green and put the phone on speaker, the book in his hands as he tried to get back to it.

“Hi”

He rolled his eyes, “And why the fuck are you calling now?”

Lou knew he sounded hostile, But what more could you ask when the last time they talked it was through an unresolved fight? When the asshole didn’t admit he had been in the wrong, when he didn’t want to admit that this pattern was damaging for both of them.

“Well nice to hear from you too Lou, I’m doing good, thanks”

There was no way he was going to concentrate on the damn book if he kept hearing that stupid voice. Lou threw the book on the bed and laid flat on it, feeling the softness of the duvet.

“Oliver I’m not in the mood to entertain whatever this is, What do you want?”

He heard a sigh and something else he couldn’t pick up on, but it didn’t matter to him.

It wasn’t supposed to matter.

“Okay, uh, Lou I was calling to apologize, like actually apologize”

Lou was baffled “And you wanna do this over the phone?”

Oliver scoffed “Hey at least I want to talk, you're the one who cut contact with me”

He ran his hands through his hair, this guy was making him crazy.

It’s true that Lou cut contact with Oliver after their fight, he thought it was the logical step. Who cares if they were sleeping together? Who cares if they’d spent months of their lives, an entire summer, learning all their weak spots and how their bodies moved? Who cares if Lou had ultimately caught feelings for somebody he knew was never going to reciprocate them?

“Yeah, because I thought I could trust you”

There was a silence a little too long, and Lou thought he had hung up.

“I’m sorry, okay? I-I know it was shitty of me to say all those things to you, and, I understand now you were struggling so much it’s just… I’m really sorry Lou”

He bit his lip, his eyes wide shut “You know what’s so fucked up about this?... I had to show you all the things they were saying about me so that you could believe it, a-and you knew about it”

“I didn’t know all of it Lou, I just—”

“You just what? Knew all your co stars were being harassed and did nothing? I get it, it’s not your job to defend me, but I thought that we… that I could be…” Lou sighed, feeling his eyes burn as he fluttered them open “I thought that the fact that we’d been fucking meant something to you”

He heard a hitch in Oliver’s breath and a muttered “Of course it meant something Lou, for fucks’ sake” 

“Then why… forget it, I’ll hang up”

“No! Please, Lou, bloody hell you’re like a mule sometimes” he sounded exasperated, like Lou was the most stubborn person he’d ever met.

Lou blinked “That is not making it any harder for me to hang up, jerk”

He heard a deep breath “Look, after we ended things I did something… I traveled”

Lou frowned “Like abroad? I mean, good for you if that’s—”

“No, not fucking abroad, I… went across states on my van”

Now Lou was confused, a surprised laugh escaped him “You what?”

He could see it though. The mental image of Oliver travelling across the country with a car, his camera and a dream made him smile, which quickly turned into a frown as he realized what he was doing.

“Yeah, I don't know, I just… I wanted to be in with my thoughts for a while” any other day Lou would've rolled his eyes at the phrasing, but right now he was intrigued “And I thought that traveling on a van would be good a-and it was… and so I had time to think, about us”

Lou sat up on his bed, looking intensely at his phone “And?” he asked, elongating the word.

He heard a nervous chuckle “God, I miss you, I miss… this, and I know I was an arse there's no doubt about that, but it's just… I'm really sorry”

Lou clenched his hand around his shirt. It was all so painful still, avoiding Oliver for over a month only helped to bury his feelings, but it was like burying them in sand. And now the ocean was bringing it back to the surface.

“Lou, you there?”

“Y-yeah it's just… shit, I miss you too”

He was a weak man, there's no other explanation for what he was doing. 

Lou knew Oliver was smiling on the other side, he could just feel the corners of his lips curling up and his teeth showing through the phone call. And it was making him feel things.

Things he hadn't allowed himself to feel for weeks.

“If you wanted, maybe we could meet up one day, and have a better conversation than this” Lou nodded, even though Oliver could not see his face. 

“Okay, sure”

He heard Oliver exhale deeply, like he had finally found a bit of peace after all this time. Lou was envious of that. 

“Lou?”

He hummed as a reply, loud enough for him to hear, as he laid back on his bed. His cheek resting on the heel of his hand.

“Don’t you miss it sometimes?”

He frowned, looking intently at his phone “Miss what?”

“My hands on your body”

He heard the record scratch in his brain, feeling a little… offended? Conflicted? Aroused?

Aroused was definitely in there, but his pride was stronger at that moment. 

“Oliver are you serious—” he stopped when heard a groan that made him grip at the bed “What are you– Oliver”

“I’m not really doing anything, just… reminiscing” he pulled his reading glasses up to his head and covered his face with his hands when he heard that voice, the one Oliver did whenever he wanted to get something from him. 

Which always ended up being related to his dick somehow. 

Lou pushed the heels of his hands to his eyes, shaking his head at the ideas that were forming in it, “You cannot just… damn it Oliver, where are you even?” 

Oliver chuckled, now he really wanted to punch him “I’m seated and safe if that answers your question”

“It really does not” he threw a short laugh, letting his hands rest on his belly “... What are you wearing?”

He was just a man in the end, a weak one, but a man nonetheless.

Oliver's soft laugh felt like music to his ears “Just, a simple shirt and sweatpants… nothing under if you were asking yourself that”

“I was not, thank you very much” he sighed, his hands finding their way under his shirt, caressing his happy trail “I do miss it”

“W-what?”

“I… I miss your hands on me, I miss your body and the way you used to say my name, Oli”

He hasn't called him like that in a long time.

“Fuck, Lou… I miss all of that too, I-I really miss all of you it's… fuckin' hell” he heard a hitch in Oliver's voice, and now Lou was definitely wondering what was going on on the other side of the line. 

So he pressed.

“Touch yourself Oli, over your clothes” he heard a whine on the other side and chuckled “Now that's another thing I missed about you, I missed hearing you desperate for it” 

His own hands traveled to his crotch, pressing on it with the heels. His toes curled when he heard a moan come out of Oliver.

“Shit, I… I'm not desperate” he liked to do that, to fight Lou off and bicker until the only thing they could do to shut the other up was with their mouths.

“Sure you aren't”

“W-where are you right now, Lou?” he looked around, appreciating the fact that he was completely alone at the moment. 

“My bed, obviously, I was actually trying to read a book when you called” there was a pause on the other line.

“You have your reading glasses on?” Lou adjusted the glasses and smiled, remembering the times Oliver had seen him with them on. 

“Yup” he said, exaggerating the p sound.

Oliver groaned “God, you look so hot with those glasses, makes me want to…”

Lou smiled as he heard the soft sigh come out of Oliver’s mouth. The younger had a thing for Lou’s glasses and it was sort of endearing. Even though it always ended up with the older’s soul getting sucked through his dick, but it wasn’t something he couldn’t manage. Sometimes he put them on on purpose, just to tease.

Lou took off his shirt, his body heat making the layer of fabric feel uncomfortable “Touch me? Fuck me?” one of his hands went up to his chest, caressing the area.

There was a whimper, and Lou moaned softly at the sound “Fuck, yes, I just… I just want to feel you once again Lou”

“You could if you were here”

Oliver snickered, “Is that an invitation?”

Lou rolled his eyes, smiling playfully “Not unless you find a way to convince me that is a good idea” the thought of the younger coming to his place made him sigh in content, arching his back as he lowered his pyjama pants down to his thighs. His free hand went towards his hard cock, and started to jerk himself off.

“The thought of me inside of you wouldn't be convincing enough?”

He moaned loudly, throwing his head back on his pillows as his hips rolled against his hand, going a little faster at the idea “Oliver… fuck”. The images of the younger lifting his hips to get a better angle and touching every part of his body made him squirm.

“What are you doing right now Lou?” Oliver’s voice reached a new level of deep, making Lou rock his hips with an intensity that made the bed squeak.

“Fucking my fist Oli, I also… I also don't have my shirt on” he cursed under his breath when he heard a needy sound come straight out of Oliver's throat. He smiled knowingly, the fact is that the younger also had an interest in the older's chest, the dozens of bruises he left in the past were proof of it.

“God… grab your pec Lou, do it like I would, c'mon” 

He did so, grabbing one of them with a tight grasp and then kneading it like dough as he stimulated his nipple. 

“Oli… Oliver I don't know if your hand's still over your clothes but pull your dick out, fuck, I want to hear you”

“Lou— shit, ah, okay yeah I'm… fucking hell, I want to be there with you Lou, you have no fucking idea what I'd do to you” a wet sound made Lou's eye roll and bite his lip in a way that made him taste blood, his palm slick as it was being covered with precum.

“I know you’d love to be here Oliver… to have your head between my legs as I fill your throat with me, and you'd… you…” He couldn't find the words, the pleasure making his brain melt out of his ears.

“I’d let you fuck my throat Lou, pull my hair and keep me there until you’re satisfied”

Lou moaned loudly, blabbering a trail of yes yes yes as he stilled his hips up, pumping his cock with a firm grip.

“... Then I'd fill you up, fucking you until you come a second time, fuck, h-how would you want to take me Lou?” Oliver's breathing was agitated, he was close, so close, and Lou was too.

Lou whined “Riding you in reverse, bouncing on your cock while you leave marks up to my shoulders— holy shit, I-I’m gonna come”

“Come for me Lou, c'mon do it baby”

And the pet name does it. He arches his back so much it could snap, and comes in a guttural scream, spilling all over his hand and lower belly as his body spasms. He rides the orgasm wave as he hears the loudest moan come out of Oliver, and milks himself dry. 

“Did you… did you just call me…?” his chest was heaving, body covered in a layer of sweat as he stared at the ceiling, dumbfounded.

“I did, yeah… w-was that okay?” Lou's cheeks blushed. They had never called each other by any pet names, too intimate for the kind of relationship they had. 

He smiled and looked at the phone before taking his leap “Baby… I like it, would you like that I—”

“Call me like that, please” Lou heard Oliver sigh, and it only made his smile grow wider. 

They were idiots.

Lou sat up, leaning towards the nightstand and opening the drawer to take the toilet paper he kept for situations like this. He cleaned himself and giggled as Oliver complained about his cum stained clothes “Hey, you could've taken them off like I did Oli”

He heard a grunt and knew the younger was probably rolling his eyes, “Maybe, but I—” a noise made Lou frown, and he turned off the speaker, pulling their phone towards his ear to listen well, without much success. 

“What was that?” he asked when the younger returned to talk to him..

Oliver chuckled nervously “Oh, just… one of your neighbors”

“What?!” Lou looked out the window as he straightened up, wide-eyed “Where are you?”

“In my van” he sounded embarrassed, and Lou couldn’t really blame him, even though it all felt unbelievable to him.

“Oliver… you've been outside this whole time?”

Oliver chuckled “Can’t seem to stay away, right?”

He laughed, almost hysterically. He couldn't believe the younger had been there this whole time instead of knocking down his door. Though he supposed it made sense, in a weird way that he understood.

He doesn’t think he would’ve dared to knock on Oliver’s door had the tables been turned.

Once he’s calmed he pulled up his pants and walked out of his bedroom “Come in”

“Oh I will, baby” Lou rolled his eyes but laughed softly, shaking his head as he approached his front door.

“Shut up”

And they were back to where they left, tangled bodies and whispers in their ears.

Neither of them knows if the cycle will repeat, or if they’ve found a way to break it. All they know is that they couldn’t stay away from each other for too long.

Not even if they could help it.

read on AO3.

[jeffreyprynce]

This was written about a year ago, posted to Substack. I’ve since migrated Substack posts to Tumblr.

Spirit of America,

My brother and I are freakishly alike. There’s a four-and-a-half year gap between us — I’m the oldest — but friends and family have remained perplexed by our similar physical traits, personal beliefs, philosophies, hopes and dreams, and other miscellaneous things that make us tick. We’re basically twins with a chunk of time between us.

Such as it is, we’ve had this… thing… where when something meaningful happens in our collective presence — something significant enough to give us pause — we look at each other. It sounds trivial, but it’s anything but. At such a time, we are indeed compelled to look at each other and hold each other’s gaze. I’ve come to refer to this as our moment.

Our moment is a phenomenon that happened often throughout our childhood as we watched shows and movies. If something particularly cool — or gruesome, in the case of horror films, which we were huge fans of then and continue to be today — happened, it would undoubtedly occur. I remember one such moment in 2000 as we watched The Exorcist: The Version You’ve Never Seen in a theatre. Immediately following the spider-walk scene, infamous at the time for its removal from all previous versions of the film (the wires used to suspend Linda Blair’s stunt double were a bit too visible, requiring computer-generated assistance for their erasure), we had a moment. I recall it vividly, that as the guttural growl and subsequent reverb of the possessed Regan MacNeil faded away, we looked at each other in the semi-dark of the theatre.

I had goosebumps. I’m sure he did, too.

It’s just like me to insert horror pop culture into a seemingly unrelated post. Ask my friends and family: you can’t talk to me for long before I bring up some paranormal or supernatural event or miscellaneous ethereal “coincidence”. You’ll have to excuse me.

The moment I’m here to really dissect is one we had on the evening of November 4, 2008. We were in Toronto, eight years out from a thirteen-year stint at trying to make a life for ourselves in the U.S. They were often good years, often tough years. They were dramatic years, frustrating years. They were years filled with the kind of ups and downs often experienced by black folks trying to thrive in America. Having thrown in the towel, even being Canadian born, we felt — my brother and I — a certain obligation to know and care about what was happening in the U.S. It was a curious sense of commitment that we harbored, and still do; that having escaped (back) to the more black-friendly north, we remained concerned about the loved ones we’d left in our dust. It was like leaving your family behind when they were in a pickle; in a third-world country, perhaps, where dreams of better places, better situations abound, or a war-torn region, where just as the enemy had begun to encroach upon your own neighborhood, you’d been scooped up and swept away to what amounted to paradise in comparison. We hurt for our good-hearted allies, of which there are many.

So it was that when Barack Obama was officially projected to be the next president-elect, we converged upon the living room that evening after dinner in our Scarborough, Ontario home, my mother and stepfather embracing on the couch, my brother and I standing, so riveted were we. And there was something about seeing Barack on that stage, with his supporters surrounding him, trying (and failing) to control the volume of their cheers in anticipation of the truly momentous speech to come. The convivial contrast of a cool November night beyond them made the image dream-like, and my brother and I had a moment. It had happened: a black president of the United States had been elected in our lifetime.

There were a number of images that came to mind in that moment, and they were all of the same theme: Martin Luther King’s dream had finally come to fruition in full. We were no longer trudging uphill, faces stonily set against cold winds emanating from cold, bigoted hearts. It was a downhill journey from that point on, no exertion needed. From that point on, the election of a black president of the United States (and a good man, an exceptional man), would carry us through to the promised land. Right?

As one Donald Trump derisively intoned as he leaned in to the microphone on his podium during a debate with Hillary Clinton, pursed lips resembling a pink puckered anus: “Wrong.”

Incidentally, I wonder if any of you remember a certain thread of discussion that was making the rounds on social media platforms just after his election. It can be summarized essentially thus: Black folks been knew, and white folks didn’t listen to us; have never listened to us.

Immediately post-election, all over Twitter, black folks young and old were nodding and smirking and shaking their heads, saying, “We warned you.” And with some context and education, you came to know what we meant then, but I fear you’ve since forgotten, that what’s happening to your country right now is, quite literally, all about race. Had you heeded our collective call that white nationalist racism was coming to a boil, and that the nation was the proverbial frog thus slowly, insidiously being cooked, you could’ve mobilized. You could’ve prodded that frog; gave it a little poke; jump, Mr. Toad, jump.

Here you have Donald Trump at an about-face. He’s back. And I don’t think it’s going to be a landslide victory for the Democratic Party come November, if it does manage a victory. If the Democrats do win, it’ll be a victory they eked out; a tight squeal, like that thin, wounded sound that seeps from the pinched orifice of a balloon.

I do pray that you won’t wake up on November 6, 2024 with Donald Trump as your revenge president-elect. I pray he won’t spider-walk into your lives as commander-in-chief once again. Though, do take heed that after an exorcism, the exorcee is grandly advised by the exorcist, himself weary and battle-scarred, to be spiritually on the defensive. Always. Because he knows that if the demon returns, it won’t come alone; it’ll come with seven others. Seven devils. And the state of the body again possessed will be worse than it was the first time. Much worse.

In an architectural sense, do not be mistaken: Donald Trump’s reign over the Republican Party is not being held up by politics. It is not being propped up by a desire for a better future for all Americans. It is not innocent. It is being propped up by a hatred for people who are not white. Yes, it is indeed that simple. If you think otherwise, ask yourself this: If you could rewind society to what it was in, let’s say, the late 1980s, when cultural and racial diversity were less visible and whiteness was the order of the day everywhere you looked, do you think Donald Trump would be on the ballot, let alone seeking a second term?

I don’t think so.

I think Donald Trump would be in New York, doing Donald Trump things; wheeling and dealing in real estate, managing hotels and casinos, running fake establishments (universities, et al.), appearing on WWE Smackdown, that sort of thing. As it is, in today’s society, he is a living martyr and a wrecking ball for the kind of people who get together to uniformly wear Polo shirts and clutch tiki torches, chanting, “You will not replace us!”

For further clarity, look no further than the words of Toni Morrison, as they appeared in The New Yorker ten days after Donald Trump was first elected:

“These sacrifices, made by supposedly tough white men, who are prepared to abandon their humanity out of fear of black men and women, suggest the true horror of lost status.

“It may be hard to feel pity for the men who are making these bizarre sacrifices in the name of white power and supremacy. Personal debasement is not easy for white people (especially for white men), but to retain the conviction of their superiority to others — especially to black people — they are willing to risk contempt, and to be reviled by the mature, the sophisticated, and the strong. If it weren’t so ignorant and pitiful, one could mourn this collapse of dignity in service to an evil cause.”

Morrison wrote of the extremes white nationalists have gone to in an attempt to “restore whiteness to its former status as a marker of national identity”. She wrote that “Unlike any nation in Europe, the United States holds whiteness as the unifying force” and that “These people are not so much angry as terrified, with the kind of terror that makes knees tremble.” Given that she wrote the essay in response to Trump’s election, you’d do best to print it out and pin it to your wall or your fridge, or, at the very least, to fold it up and tuck it into a folder or journal for easy reference when your conservative peers and/or family members say or do things that confound you.

Only when you understand this and accept it will you have a chance at staving off the storm Trump is riding in on, like some apocalyptic herald. Because when you’ve accepted it, you’ll see it all around you. Little fires everywhere. Then and only then will you be able to stamp them out before they conjoin. With your friends. With your family. And, most importantly, those independent voters, the ones on the fence who will see the Republican Party for the repugnant, shambling thing it has become, and subsequently tip the scales.

As of my writing this, there’s still time. The drive to suffocate racism in America is the banner under which you’ll find victory; if not for this election, for the soul of your nation. I shudder to think of how a vengeful second term of Trump in the White House will affect the conflicts in Gaza and the Ukraine, for example, or South Sudan, Ecuador, the Congo. And I'd be remiss to remind you that in terms of the bloodshed in Gaza, of the two candidates, Donald Trump is the one who is least bendable in terms of seeking to end the wholesale murder of innocent Palestinian people. While Harris is prone to listening to those of us who plead for Palestinians, and prone to scolding Netanyahu as Biden did ("Bibi, what the fuck?"), Trump is not. Quite the contrary, Trump has said he will side with Benjamin Netanyahu unwaveringly.

Lately, when my brother and I see each other, now as Canadian men having mostly recovered from the constant, hovering threat of racist white Americans, we inevitably have our moments about what antics Trump has been up to. We never have much to say about him and his enablers anymore. Not like we did in 2016. Because there’s nothing new under the sun, is there? What we understand is that y’all still aren’t getting it. We handed you the keys and you fumbled them once again, unaware that they’d long since tumbled into that cold, damp manhole sewer of blissful American ignorance.

And yet I wish the best for you. I hope for a miracle, fingers and toes crossed, prayers up, and incense lit.

From Canada with love,

Your Wayward Son

[bedtimegiraffe]

Here's my little essay about King Arlan (and a little bit about Baldur) and their complicated relationship with ruling effectively.

Arlan, the (overall) very good king

King Arlan is keeping the kingdom running well

In the very first lore tablet, you learn that, "King Arlan Valleros VII currently sits on the throne. Known as the Gentle King, Arlan has reigned over a period of great peace and prosperity."

Periods of great peace and prosperity are not easy! It's a combination of luck, delegating effectively, and putting in a ton of administrative work to make sure the laws and policies work for the unique situation your nation is in at this moment. That stuff does not happen on accident.

Based on Aerin's statements that he never really saw his father, I'm assuming Arlan keeps busy with actually running the country. We never see Arlan show interest in hunting or any vices that would take similar amounts of time. I also don't get the sense that Arlan and Baldur are always like, hanging out. And we don't interact with many administrators, making him seem pretty hands-on.

King Arlan knows how to maintain an image

When you return from the Shadow Realm...

King Arlan is very savvy. Maybe he's sincere, who knows! But publicly honoring the heroes who saved your ass is a great way to get goodwill for yourself and make it so you no longer owe those heroes. Your party puts in quite a lot of work to save Morella and King Arlan just lets you take some weapons and armor no one was using anyway. Doesn't even send a single guard to help. Unlike Book 2...

Before the battle he does a great job making it seem like he's doing you a favor. Like you asked for his help and he's magnanimously granting it, even though the Ash Empire is very much coming to destroy his capital!

Which brings us to his take on Aerin being gone (assuming he was imprisoned previously)...

This is an awful thing to say about your son! But it's actually a pretty cunning move as a king. Arlan was absolutely right- his best move was to let Aerin go and hope he got killed. He gets to eliminate a problem making him look bad to the court (his son who committed murder and treason in a very public manner) and keep his reputation as a nice guy. He's the 'Gentle King,' not the 'Strong King' or 'Decisive King.'

And in the very unlikely (in his estimation) chance Aerin did come back alive and looking heroic, Arlan could keep him imprisoned indefinitely. Or (much less likely) he could say Aerin was corrupted before and use his success as an excuse to get one of his kids back in the line of succession. That's good for your ego and can help prevent a succession crisis if there isn't a super clear heir in place (which seems to be the case currently).

Overall, (and completely separate from him being a horrendous father) it seems to be like Arlan is actually a very good king. But there is one part of the job he sucks at...

Arlan's fatal flaw is that he is terrible at reading people.

'Baldur's great, no concerns!'

Obviously, we know that thinking that Baldur is going to be a good king is stupid.

But why didn't King Arlan know that? Aerin (who does seem to be pretty good at reading people) says he's, "handsome, bold, outgoing." Those things are all great for winning people over!

But not nearly enough to actually run a country. We know Baldur's not really even trying to have any of the practical, administrative skills that requires. And this system does not seem set up to function with a figurehead.

You know that tutor must have clocked that Baldur was asleep! It was probably common knowledge at the palace that Baldur never learned a damn thing. Either Arlan didn't realize his heir was not gaining any practical ruling skills (bad sign) or he didn't care (also a bad sign).

Even monarchs who aren't invested in their kids as people are usually very invested in their education. Because that's how you make sure the wheels don't fall off once you die, ending your glorious bloodline.

Aerin tells us that Baldur would never contradict their father. So Arlan absolutely could have forced him to read a damn book. But for some reason, he didn't.

'My second son sucks...

Arlan truly thinks that Aerin is useless. Which is a wild stance to take after you watched him kill big strong Baldur in a single blow and open a portal to the Shadow Realm.

Arlan got there a little late for Aerin's full villain monologue. But the second your party disappears through the portal, the smart thing would have been to determine if Aerin did any more damage. It didn't feel like it to Aerin, but he had tremendous access to people and resources. For all King Arlan knows, this could have been just one piece of a bigger plot.

And it was! Aerin admitted to corrupting dozens of people, usually very connected people. That's a ticking time bomb just waiting to cause more damage. One it doesn't seem like King Arlan ever looks into.

Arlan seems to just assume that Aerin can't cause damage because he's... not physically imposing? Because knowledge and connections are never a threat to power?

Pre-crisis, Aerin also talks about trying to smooth over Baldur's brash decisions. Having someone to soften the blow of harsh or unpopular decisions is absolutely crucial for any ruler, but especially one like Baldur. Yet Arlan doesn't seem to have any awareness of that either.

So Arlan at least picked up some vibes from Aerin that he was... something. Troubled could be 'miserable,' but this statement makes it feel more 'he creeps me out.'

-and I'm not worried about that.'

Even if Aerin was incompetent or messed up, King Arlan should have been concerned about that! Baldur is very strong and presumably good at not dying. But he throws himself into dangerous situations all the time for fun! There is a very good reason most monarchs don't stop at one kid if they can help it.

History is absolutely littered with examples of people who inherited a throne and ran things into the ground because they didn't have the ability to manage the amount of power they had effectively. If Arlan thought Aerin could fall into that category, he should have had people working around the clock to get him up to standard just in case.

Instead, King Arlan fully ignored Aerin, letting him just haunt the archives like a depressed ghost.

'The Heroes of Morella obviously agree with me, they're important!'

King Arlan makes the assumption, based on your party's status, that you'll agree with him on the 'complicated politics' of executing your own kid. Because you're not 'commoners.' Your party includes one elven noble, one orcish (until like 2 days ago) princess, and one human with a very prominent position in the Temple. Mal is more under the radar, but he was still proclaimed a hero. And your character is the most Hero of all.

So Arlan basically does that thing some people do where they trash talk a marginalized group, because everyone in the room looks like they belong to the majority group, so why would they object? (Never a good look.)

But Mal and Nia are both, at least to you, visibly angry with Arlan for being excited his son is (presumably) dead.

Still, no effort to backtrack or soften the blow from King Arlan. Just sails right over the dude's head that Mal looks pissed and Nia is using her damn customer service voice.

Seriously, King Arlan should probably keep an eye out for Mal... Not a big monarchist, that one.

Bonus Baldur, the tremendous idiot

The fact that Baldur thinks he's the first of his name, when "Baldur Valleros" literally founded his dynasty, is incredibly funny to me. Such ignorance. Such hubris.

I am not about to give him the benefit of the doubt that maybe Baldur I went straight to being king, so our dumbass is the first "Prince Baldur Valleros." His father is Arlan VII, there's no way no other king has named their heir after the founder of the dynasty. More evidence that he has never once learned a thing.

(Don't worry about Kade- he took a shadow lance to the face but he's fine. He's mostly fine. Feel free to look at my older posts if you're curious how that went down.)

Baldur seems to make the same assumptions about people based on their status as his father. I don't think it's an accident that when Baldur wants to tell gross stories (including the phrase "slum girls"), he immediately grabs Mal, the human man. Mal isn't all that subtle about his disdain for the nobility, but he still looks like the best one for Baldur to win over. Mal is also the one who steps up and negotiates for the group, making him look like the leader- even more Baldur catnip.

[too-damn-joji]

In Your Dreams

Welcome to my first ever fanfic!

Theme: Y/N x Han. After having a random and intense dream about Han Jisung, someone you see at work every day, you're unable to look him in the eye. Noticing, he keeps pressing you for details on why you're blushing every time you two talk.

Contains: Fluff, the beginning of something, build up, small mention of sexual content. Next chapter will probably contain actual sexual content.

Word count: Around 1100

Normally, if you weren't having some kind of nightmare, your dreams were just made up of things you'd seen that week jumbled with the typical fantastical nonsense everyone dreams about. But this morning - when you needed to be focused and professional for the day - you were woken up mid-climax while dreaming about Han Jisung underneath you.

You'd become friends over the last few months of working together, and knowing that you were going to be colleagues for a while longer, you'd been careful not to spend much time thinking about how cute he was.

That had been becoming harder lately. His hair had grown out to a frustratingly attractive length...

Today, you were heading to a camp ground location for a new SKZ episode. As a creative brand lead, going on shoots was the most fun part of your role.

Most recently, your job had taken you to South Korea, and though you always planned to keep on travelling country to country, you've been here now for over half a year. Working with idols was a huge step up career-wise, but that wasn't exactly the only reason you were staying so long.

By the time you're on location helping to mock up the sets, overlooking the scripts and member's missions, getting things looking 'Stray Kids', Han had come over to chat a handful of times already. You couldn't help but be kind of standoff-ish and you were sure he'd noticed.

Now, with filming kicking off soon, he was heading back over, freshly dressed and made up, looking too good.

"Y/Nnnie, I gotta know what today's missions are! One hint." He pouted sarcastically.

You couldn't help but smile back, "No. They're easy anyway, you'll be fine."

"One hint. One hint and I'll buy you lunch."

"Wow, we've got a big spender today!" You joke. "Lunch is free on shoots." While the two of you are joking around, you're unable to meet his eyes properly, images from the dream flashing into your mind's eye. It feels like if you make eye contact, he'll be able to see them too. Your cheeks go red.

He notices. Dammit, he notices. "What?" He leans down, trying to catch your eye, "What is it?"

Your stomach twists; this is a workplace and he is a work friend, not to mention famous and way out of your league, act normal. You give in to get him to leave, "Fine one hint; don't pick a red card, try to grab a blue one, the blue mission is way better." You attempt a normal smile and brief eye contact. Totally nonchalant. Completely relaxed.

He continues to look at you for a beat before he responds, assessing, "You've never given in before! I'm not complaining but, you okay?"

"Yeah, of course. See you later for my super expensive lunch." You pat his arm and go to join the rest of the staff. That brief bit of physical contact will be the only touch you two have - and that's definitely enough. Or it'll have to be.

The first half of the shoot goes well, Han snags a blue mission card and manages to sneak you a wink. Some of the morning's highlights include Seungmin sabotaging Changbin's mission, Lee Know threatening the lives of two other members, Chan getting way too into his role and Hyunjin finding a place to lay flat on his back and nap mid-mission.

Han finds you on the break. "You're so lucky this episode doesn't involve us cooking, I'm pretty sure that's almost the opposite of buying you lunch."

"You guys aren't that bad at cooking, just... don't offer me whatever it was you made last time ever again." You're about to make an excuse about needing to work through the break instead of joining him when he pulls you by the elbow to the food truck.

"Let's go, we've gotta beat everyone else to the good stuff."

Now, food in hand, he picks a spot to eat a little ways away from everyone else and sits down next to you. Before taking a bite, he asks, "So what's up? You've been a bit... weird? today."

You're painfully aware that your hips and thighs are touching as you glance up, feigning surprise. Somehow, you've managed to make a living off content marketing despite a genuine inability to lie. "I'm sorry. It's nothing, really. Just ignore me."

He bumps against you playfully. "I could never ignore you, y/nnie. Is something wrong?" He takes a big bite and looks at you with wide eyes, and the image of him being so earnest while stuffing his face makes you giggle. "What?" He asks, eyes going wider.

You sigh, deciding on a half truth and say, "I just had some weird dreams last night and they've been on mind all day. I'll forget about it soon enough and be back to normal."

He covers his mouth, still chewing, as he says, "Oh no! Like nightmares? Wait, you told me once that you get bad nightmares sometimes, you okay?"

You take a bite of your own lunch before answering. "Nah. More like the opposite of a nightmare, though last week I had this one nightmare where JYP was 10 foot tall and if you messed up a dance routine he'd come and control you like a puppet til you got it right."

Han laughs out loud, making you smile just to see him happy. "If JYP was a giant puppeteer I would be in so much trouble."

You guys fall into your natural rhythm and chat about nothing in particular while you finish eating, then stand up ready to get back to work.

Before you go though, he grabs your arm again, looks at you with a confused frown. "Wait, you said the dream was the opposite of a nightmare? How does a good dream make you act weird all morning?"

This time, your blush isn't just on your cheeks, it's your whole face and even your neck. Han looks at you strangely, like he's putting two-and-two together and your expression goes from embarrassed to horrified. Thankfully, he's called away by Chan, who's loudly yelling at him that it's time to start. He gives your arm a squeeze and heads back to set.

This is so not professional. Or how friends should act. You swallow thickly and go grab some water to cool off. You'll think of a funny excuse of a dream before you two chat again and then he'll never feel like his colleague was hinting at something sexual.

An hour later, you get a message from Han. You look up to see him sneakily using his phone while Felix and I.N. are doing their piece to camera.

Hannie: "You're right, free lunch on a shoot doesn't count. Let me take you out tomorrow for a real one?"

When you look back up, he's glancing in your direction and this time he's blushing. You write back, telling him that sounds great.

It's lunch between friends, right? He's probably going to bring one of the other members or staff. Your stomach being full of butterflies right now while your mind vividly replays last night's dream is just your own personal problem.

You focus on the shoot for the rest of the afternoon, trying to ignore how much you want to check your phone for another message from Han.

[tuulikannel]

There is this song by a Finnish band I like, CMX, and it always makes me think of Gakushuu and Gakuhou. I once started writing a fic based on it, but I doubt I'll ever really finish it. So I figured I might as well post here what I've written & my thoughts about the rest of the song.

So, it's Gakushuu & his dad angst time! ^^

Three Miles North from the Crossroads of Death

“And what happens then?” Ren asked quietly.

Gakushuu blinked, raising his eyes from his book.

“What?”

“What happens… once you have done… all that?”

Gakushuu frowned. “I don’t quite understand what you mean. What happens then?” He shrugged. “Anything I want, I guess. I’ve reached my goal, I have won. What happens after… it’s ultimately irrelevant.”

Ren looked at him, something quiet and shadowy in his eyes, but then he smiled. “Yeah. I guess.” That smile… didn’t quite reach his eyes, Gakushuu thought, but the boy looked away so quickly he couldn’t quite be sure. And honestly, whether it did or not… that too was irrelevant.

Gakushuu turned back to his book. He didn’t know what had brought on that question, and didn’t really care, either. Ren was a bit weird at times, that was all.

As he walked home in the evening, that question returned to his mind. What happens then?

Gakushuu smiled a little at himself. If only Ren new… all the fantasies he had of what he would do once he finally, one day, would crush his father. Well, Ren would never know, of course. He would never talk about all that to anyone. And, he had to admit to himself, much of that was nothing but silly daydreams. The reality would most likely be something much more boring.

That too was, ultimately, irrelevant. One day he would defeat his father, for good, and then… then he’d have all he had ever wished for at his hands.

Wouldn’t he?

For some reason, the image of Ren’s eyes flashed in his mind. If he didn’t know better, he would say his friend had looked worried. The way he had looked at Gakushuu… it was as if he had seen something troubling.

Having reached his home, Gakushuu paused for a moment at the front door. Yes… once he won… he would cherish that moment. All the hard work it would take to reach it. And after that…

…well. Maybe he didn’t quite know, yet, what would come next. Perhaps, having once reached the top position, he would simply have to continue working hard to stay there. To keep his father down. That was, most likely, all that there was to it. There was no point to think of all that quite yet. No reason to let whatever had been troubling Ren about this to trouble him, too.

He took a deep breath and, trying to push away the cold emptiness inside him, opened the door.

He would reach the top, one of these days, and he would stay there. That was all there was to it. What would happen then was hardly something to fret over.

That night Gakuhou returned home quite late. Spending hours eating and drinking (mainly drinking) at a restaurant was quite ridiculous, but thinking of the deals he had managed to struck with his rather drunk business partners, it was still time well spent.

Checking on his son, he saw that Gakushuu had already retired for the night. He stood a moment in the doorway of his son’s room, watching the sleeping figure. The younger the child, the more sleep it needs, he knew that well. Gakushuu… wasn’t such a small child anymore. Perhaps he could start staying up a little bit later. Of course, he didn’t yet have so many things on his schedule he would have to take also the wee hours into use, but it would not hurt to start schooling his body to adapt to less sleep.

It was, ultimately, all about efficiency. Even a couple of hours of sleep could do a lot, as long as you sleep tightly.

Gakushuu had never really been a good sleeper. Even as a toddler he had taken a while to fall asleep, no matter how tired he was. Lying in bed but not sleeping… that if anything was a waste of time.

This boy… held the potential to be the top elite of the country, one day. Wasn’t he already that, in his age group? But he still had much room for growth. He spoke so big, of how he would someday bring Gakuhou himself down. There was still such a long way to reach that goal. If the kid was serious about that – as he better be – Gakuhou would have to make sure he’d become even more disciplined than he was now.

He was about to leave, but as he glanced once more at the sleeping boy, he couldn’t help pausing. How relaxed that face was in deep sleep, how young… all that sharpness that made Gakushuu rise above his age group lost. He remembered suddenly the little child who struggled to sleep. The patter of small feet in the middle of the night, as Gakushuu ran to him and snuggled up close.

He had been, back then, so very accommodating. Spoiling the kid, really. He should have told him to go to sleep in his own bed.

…then again, Gakushuu did always fall asleep quite fast after coming to his father, his head resting on Gakuhou’s shoulder, small hands squeezing his. And he had learned to sleep in his own bed, hadn’t he? No harm done in the long run, maybe. Certainly he would never again ran to sleep with his father, that was for sure.

Seconds ticked by, and Gakuhou stood still, watching the sleeping child.

This boy… would reach his goal someday. He would reach the top. Be strong. Not dependent of anyone or anything. He would not be someone anyone could kick down, no; he would be the one who could kick down anyone he wanted to.

He would survive, no matter what the cost.

Gakuhou stood still, watching the sleeping child.

That day would come, he knew it. And he would be so proud then – not that he would ever let Gakushuu see that. That was nothing but useless sentimentalism from his part, not something this boy – then a man – would need.

He would be so proud… so why was there something cold within him now, an empty ache that made him rub his fingers together, remembering the touch of a small hand in his own?

~~~~~~~

And that is as much as I’ve written of this. But here’s the song (in my translation) and my thoughts about the rest of it.

I feel cold at the sheer thought of victory I feel cold thinking of the moment of reaching the goal

Those two lines are, obviously, the beginning of the fic. That’s how far I got. XD I feel that, funnily enough, these two have the same goal: Gakushuu becoming strong enough to rise above anyone, even his father. After all, isn’t this why Gakuhou is doing it all, to make sure his son (and the majority of his students) become as strong as possible?

The next part would have been about Gakuhou, quite obviously, I think:

When you’d see all your thoughts in the right light How inadequate is your love, how ignorant your knowledge

The only question is, how much would it take for him to realize this? Maybe sometimes, in the dark hours of the night when he watches his sleeping child, there is doubt within him, but does he listen to that? Certainly not, such thoughts are nothing but a weakness that needs to be suppressed.

And then we would be back to Gakushuu, who to his dismay at some point would realize how similar he really is to his father – of course he is not his father, we know this, but does he see it too? Sometimes people might look at him with similar expressions as they look at his father, and that makes him wonder.

And did I realize it only now I’m no more remarkable than you You, who I’ve always hated Despised and feared

Where does it all lead to? What is, ultimately the point of all the efforts? Sometimes, Gakushuu might start doubting it all. Just how remarkable is either of them, really…

We, two wretches Hanging side by side And after we’ve trashed our time We’re thrown into a hole

And there are times when Gakushuu despairs. He tries to hang onto his goal, but it feels impossible. How far? How far does he still have to go to reach his goal? No matter how great his achievements are, his father remains unreachable. No matter how much he struggles, nothing ever changes.

From the crossroads of death Still three more miles to the north

And even though he excels in everything, that doesn’t mean everything is easy. He keeps up the façade of perfection, but ultimately it’s only that. A façade.

Who demands for an easy song In the senseless world Where every song is difficult to sing Even if it’s only a beautiful lie

And let’s not even get into what lies within his father, all hidden under a façade not so different from Gakushuu’s (snakes, centipedes, big difference)

Who demands you to say what storms in your chest When in the twisted world of your chest There are a million snakes, tangled up.

And always, always, his father remains unreachable. How could he not? He’s decades older, he has already accomplished so much, everything Gakushuu can do, his father has done long ago. Ren is the one who points out something to him, when he is (in an uncharacteristically weak, embarrassing moment) fretting about all that to his best friend (and only to his best friend.)

Everything you do has been done Everything you see has been seen Everything you touch Has been touched by many hands But not with your hands Not with your eyes Not within you Before you do it yourself

But of course, Gakushuu being Gakushuu, he simply concludes that this means it doesn’t matter if his father has done something before him, as long as he does it better than his father.

And so he keeps on going… and going. And going. But how far?

From the crossroads of death Still three more miles to the north From the crossroads of death Still three more miles to the north To the north, to the north…

Here's the song on youtube, Kuoleman risteyksestä kolme virstaa pohjoiseen:

(about the song, the first minute and a half is kinda weird, I give you that XD)

[perfectsunlight]

𝐜𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐬 [𝟐]

𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘅 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: 𝘀𝘂𝗯𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝘂𝘀𝗲, mentions of racism, 𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘂𝗮𝗴𝗲

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 1,971

𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀: 𝗴𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗽𝗶𝗲 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲

the shutters and camera flashes were both the bane of ning’s existence and the object of her desire. it was a constant reminder of her status, as well as the biggest downside that came with being a star.

because that’s what ningning was: a child star turned idol.

in all honesty, ningning didn’t care about anything other than being on the stage. even when she was a trainee, the only reason she stuck with it was because she knew that she had the talent. the idol life never was her dream.

truth be told, ning would have rather been a solo artist in america, that way she wouldn’t face so much hate from the koreans.

it used to mess with her a lot when she was younger. being a foreigner in a new country was already hard enough, but to come from a country that was hated by the entire republic of korea? it made everything much worse.

she felt aeri’s arm tug her forward, leading the way for the both of them as they made their way through the crowd of people surrounding them as they made their way towards the company car.

they had a busy day scheduled ahead of them, and the young idol was starting to regret her outing from the night prior.

actually she wasn’t regretting it. she was just upset that she had to deal with so many people shoving cameras in her face.

her younger self would’ve been bowing in every direction, making sure to wave at the cameras even though they were blinding her. she would’ve tried to look as nice and good as possible, because maybe then they would accept her.

but now? after realizing that no matter how hard she tried, she would only be seen as “bad?” ning couldn’t care less.

“ningning is it true you got into a fight last night?”

the idol rolled her eyes behind her designer shades. she may or may not have gotten into a bit of an argument, but the other girl definitely deserved the bottle of beer dumped on her head.

once they got into the car and the doors shut behind them, karina’s head whipped around from the front seat to look at the youngest member.

“ning, you got into a fight?” the leader hissed, disappointment lacing her voice.

the chinese woman turned her head away to face the window. she didn’t want to deal with jimin’s scolding right now.

minjeong turned to look at the younger girl and titled her head to the side. “ningie, is that why you asked for an ice pack last night?” she asked softly, countering karina's rough approach.

aeri’s head also turned her attention to get a look at their younger member. she didn’t say anything, only frowning at the sight of ning’s cold shoulder.

“ning yi zhou,” jimin called out to the vocalist once more. as a leader, it was her job to keep the group’s image from being tainted. however, ning didn’t exactly make that job the easiest. “what happened?��

their manager made their way to the front seat and started driving off. jimin’s eyes never left ningning’s figure. the ambience of the drive, as well as the soft music coming from the radio filled the otherwise empty silence that lingered between the aespa members.

maybe it was 10 minutes, maybe it was 20, or maybe it was 30. but after what felt like quite a while, ninging finally broke her silence.

“she told me to go back to my country.”

karina’s gaze softened, aeri’s heart broke, and minjeong’s body deflated at the revelation revealed unto them. they all knew how brutal the korean fans were when it came to chinese idols. either they were well loved, or extremely hated. ninging was one of the very few who experienced both.

giselle bit her bottom lip, recalling how the koreans had their opinions about her since debut as well, but she witnessed the waves of hate the youngest member received from even before debuting. even as a trainee, the chinese girl was bullied. aeri could not help but think that all those years of training in a country that hated her were catalysts into shaping the person her fellow member became today.

minjeong actually walked in on ning a few times when the youngest member was looking through all the hate comments. ning wasn’t one to care about anything anymore nowadays. except, winter couldn’t feel as if her friend was acting out this way because of her past.

in reality, no one knew what to say. because they all knew that ningning didn't want to get into a fight, but rather the fight was picked on her.

jimin felt guilty for immediately assuming that ning had done something ridiculous again, but as the leader stared at her youngest member, she could not help but feel bad for her.

it was in that moment that karina realized that no matter how much trouble ningning got herself into, it didn't always mean that she deserved it.

the remainder of the drive to the airport was silent, only the road ambience filling the void of space. however, ningning decided to focus on the only good part of this upcoming fansign in LA: the fact that she could party after.

the flight from seoul to los angeles was long, and quite boring. usually ning could sleep for hours on these types of flights, but this time she wasn’t tired at all. in fact, she wasn’t tired even when they landed and got to their hotel rooms.

thankfully each of the members had their own rooms, which mean the chinese woman could relax by smoking. she knew weed wasn’t illegal in california, but she also was not exactly in the mood for marijuana.

the gray smoke flowed from her lips as she exhaled before bringing the cigarette to her mouth once more. the youngest aespa member leaned over the balcony railing and stared at the bustling streets of LA. her room was on the 13th floor, making everything look so small.

thirteen. an unlucky number. was she an unlucky idol?

she had done everything, beat the odds and then some. so why did it feel like she wasn’t happy with the dream she once would’ve given everything for?

the chinese woman sighed as she breathed out the smoke from her cigarette before staring across at the streets. there was a bar directly across from the hotel. she could either stand up here and think about her feelings about her life….or she could grab a drink.

it was obvious which choice she went with.

ningning swirled the liquor in her glass, eyeing the whiskey as it danced in circles. this was her fourth shot of the night. except, she seemed rather tame at the moment. her head leaned against her palm as she held the glass in her other hand.

“rough day?”

her head slowly turned in the direction of whoever was speaking to her, only to be met with bright eyes and a gentle smile.

you took a seat next to her, motioning for the bartender to give you a shot of something.

the idol raised an eyebrow at you. did you not know who she was? aespa was known in the states too, but did you have any idea who you just sat next to?

“i’m sorry?” ning said slowly, confusion laced on her features.

“you looked really down, so i figured i’d come and see if you’re alright.” you smiled softly as the bartender slid a glass in your direction.

ningning stared at you for a few moments, blinking slowly before forming a sentence again. “do you know me?”

a soft chuckle escaped your lips as you downed the glass in your hand. grimacing at the taste of the burning liquid as it shot down your throat.

“i do.” you said, small smile ghosting your lips. “you’re ning yizhuo.”

so you did know who she was. interesting. except why were you acting so calm and casual with her? usually when she met fans, they’d either harass her like the paparazzi or try and flirt with her.

but you seemed to do none of those.

“why are you talking to me?” she asked slowly. “i mean, if you want a photo or something i’m not up for it right now. so what do you want?”

your gaze softened at the sight of her like this. you were a huge fan of aespa, and you knew everything regarding ning’s infamous reputation. but you somehow felt bad for her.

“i don’t want any of those things.” you reasoned quietly, eyes staying locked on hers. ning was your bias actually. you knew everything about her from pre debut all the way until now.

every single moment, every single scandal, you knew about it all. but right now, you wanted to know why your favorite person looked so upset.

“you just don’t look happy, that’s all.”

the idol’s eyebrows raised in response to your statement. “so what if i’m unhappy? what’s it to you?”

you smiled softly at her, already knowing this was part of her personality. maybe you could get her to open up? even just a little.

“you may just think i’m just a fan of your music, but i admire you as a person as well. i want you to be happy.” you explained, hoping she would understand.

admire. that was a word no one ever associated or used in the same sentence with ningning. to hear it from you for the first time in her life?

it felt good. really really good. maybe tonight she would make a friend.

a friend who admired her.

“want to go outside for a smoke?”

you two eventually made your way outside the back, and leaned against the wall smoking cigarettes with each other.

truth be told, this kind of domestic interaction felt nice. you were so easy to talk to, and for a moment ningning felt better than she had when she first landed in LA.

“are you from LA?” she asked genuinely.

you shook your head, smiling over at her. “i’m from seoul, but i’m just visiting for the week.”

the chinese woman raised her eyebrows. “what are you doing all the way over here?” she inquired as she brought the cigarette to her lips.

the smoke escaped through your mouth before you answered her, that bright smile still on your face. “i’m here for your fansign, duh.”

“oh,” the idol chuckled and nodded. “i forgot about that.” she sighed as she tapped her cigarette against her thumb.

“can’t believe i have to get up at 5 in the morning for that shit." she muttered under her breath.

you hummed in agreement. “yeah, hopefully you’re not too tired.”

“i’m always tired.” she scoffed lightly before turning her head to look at you. “what’s your name, stranger?”

“y/n.” you answered casually. “y/n park.”

ning hummed in acknowledgement, giving you the ghost of a smile. “it takes dedication to come halfway across the world for a group you like, you know.”

your smile widened as you took another deep breath from your cigarette. the smoke danced in the air as you replied.

“what can i say? i’m just a big fan.”

the chinese woman narrowed her eyes playfully. “what are you? a groupie or something?”

your eyes narrowed back at her, the tiniest smirk on your lips. “and what if i am?”

“touché.” she chuckled as she threw the rest of her cigarette on the ground before stomping it out with her shoe.

a few beats of silence passed. your eyes remained on hers as she turned and looked at you, pulling her cap tighter over her head.

“i’m going to head back. i’ve got to be up early.”

you nodded in understanding, fully knowing that waking up at 5 in the morning was a rough time for anyone, celebrity or not.

she quickly bowed her head slightly, indicating she was heading out now. the gravel beneath her footsteps gave you auditory confirmation of her walking away from you.

you turned your attention to the alley wall in front of you, putting the cigarette to your lips once more. your head leaned back against the wall behind you, as you closed your eyes.

then that’s when you heard it. the familiar raspy voice from a chinese idol that you adored, and oh you just couldn’t help but smile.

“i’ll see you tomorrow.”

-

𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧: @jiihu @silantryoo @rosiehrs @craftymasterlistcomicsprune @skisk1 @jisooftme @babycubchae @yunjinhart @pandamiswifey @jenoteamo

[foreverformula1]

Chain Bear put the words I have been struggling to come out with quite gracefully.

It is one thing for drivers like Alonso and such to do this as they were born and little when Senna passed away, but it gets a tiny bit weird when drivers born 20+ years after his death do this. It feels “forced”. I don’t blame them for this, especially not individually. I am referring the broader aspect of it.

And surely I do not want the F1 community to forget about it! But the more time passes, the more this level of dedication gets weird. By “this level of dedication” I mean multiple drivers doing this almost every anniversary (or similar milestones of Senna).

I also want to add that although it is very much reasonable for companies and brands that once were affiliated with Senna to do this, it is…interesting when it’s a regular yearly thing to make projects to show respect to him. I indeed suspect that many brands in general (not just F1!) do some stuff to make it look like they have something going on for them, to look nice and respectful and I believe that some are genuinely wishing people a good Chinese lunar year and care about Bees, Earth, Friendship day etc or even I understand if they do these things “just because, but with a innocent nice thought behind”; but why would brands/people that have nothing to do with Chinese lunar year or Ramadan other than MAYBE affiliations with countries that believe in those make multiple posts, projects and products? Weather they sell merch/products with this concept or not, it feels first of all an excuse to “celebrate” and public display of “You see? We have things in our calendar, we are not a doormat company”, in this case of gratitude, sometimes it feels like a way to remind people that at least at some point, they had things going on within themselves, and they still can come back; I assume it’s maybe for the workers there, not just the public. Also to remind others of their own greatness and legacy. When products are involved it gets more obvious; they use the opportunity like a party+to release limited edition designs when they could do that any other day but they want to bank money from minimal red T-shirts for CLNY. Just to make the designers do something different (good for them) and showcase versatility. But no concrete belief or thought behind. -Assuming none o few of the people in the board don’t share the culture one bit and are just being nice. But you can be nice without making it your image for a week when don’t care that much deep down. That’s what performative means. Surely, it is different for individual people, but you get the message.

I don’t blame anyone one bit, especially it is the 25th (?) anniversary since he passed away. And it is public knowledge that the multiple of 5 are milestone years for ANY brand or person. So the emphasis this year is normal, especially considering the Netflix documentary about his story coming out soon.

I have been wondering this for at least the past 2 weeks: Would X person would want to be remembered to THIS length by individual people twice a year every single year? Because it’s kind of okay and “personal” if not every year.

In general, many public figures have been doing a lot of public over gratification. Especially the more famous the other person is. Sometimes they enhance it in the period in which the other person is getting “viral” again. Over gratification is a problem beyond late celebrities. I have been seeing it a lot in MANY ways. A lot of times pushed by the expectations of the public, seeing as the result in not publicly displaying it to them, results in nasty responses from them. This is a broader discourse for another time. But yes, in (I think) all of these many cases of different types of over gratification which has risen in the past 7 years, it feels performative. Even if they genuinely care, it always seems a bit performative for the public, to “humble” themselves. (Nowadays, people seem desperate for celebrities to get humbled-but once again, this is another long topic for another time on another blog).

An example in F1 which I can give though, is exchanging helmets. Probably some like it as it could be fun to keep a memory of the other with themselves but…If it were me, I would rather give away my trophies than helmet; helmet tell my history + I basically wore them + I wouldn’t care less of other people’s sweaty hats, I know that if I were a driver, I would customize my helmet each GP, therefore they would be collected in my home. The trophies can all stay to the team (not other drivers), except first and last and the aesthetically pleasing ones…returning to the original line of thought, maybe indeed because some drivers might not care, I would feel less confident to do this. They don’t care if they switch their own helmet for another, will they admire my helmet like I do and polish it every month or hide it somewhere because it is less important than their owns but more symbolic/pricy and delicate? Those are all theories. Take it with a grain of salt. But yes, helmet switching is a sign of mutual gratification. I wouldn’t do it but I am neutral-positive of the thought is there for drivers. Beautiful thought though, to whoever started this recently.

[paraliveimaginesblog]

Purple Lilac - love at first sight.

Ryoga’s mother had always been kind-hearted.

Despite the living situation they were in, she had told him one night that she was taking in the child of a mother she was close friends with. They were traveling to another country but didn’t want to upend their child’s life, which made no sense to Ryoga but he didn’t think about it for long. This was his mother’s home and she was allowed to invite whoever she wanted into it, even if he dreaded having to meet a new person and figure out what personality he’d be dealing with until their parents were back home.

To say he was surprised would be an understatement; it was more like he was whacked upside the head with his back turned despite the warning he had received. Looking back at it now, when you first appeared in his life, you hadn’t looked special. You looked tired and like you had packed your things in a hurry, but you were polite, even granting him a smile (which was not most peoples first reaction when meeting him). There wasn’t an ounce of fear in you despite his size, or the direct way that he talked, or any other factor that made delinquents on the street immediately challenge him to a fight (that they always lost).

Ryoga doesn’t think about how struck he was by you until he’s in bed that night, or his new bed which was now the couch in the living room while you got yourself comfortable in his actual bed. You had appeared awkward about it, insisting the couch would be just fine for you, but it didn’t sit right with him to let it happen. He wouldn’t claim to be a man with great manners but it’s not like he was an animal – he knew how to treat guests. You seemed reluctant but when Ryoga had grabbed a spare blanket and had taken his place on the couch, there was no more room for argument, and your voice had been soft as you thanked him for his kindness.

Now that was something he really didn’t hear every day.

After you’re in bed he’s thinking about you. The way you walked, the outfit you were wearing, the sound of your voice and how it changed the slightest bit when his mother wasn’t around. It was like you were comfortable with him right away, not unusual considering your ages were similar but he wasn’t used to people being comfortable around him. He was either getting cursed at, ordered around, or altogether avoided. The meat you made that night was delicious, and you were going to be more help with taking care of his mom, who had only been getting sick more often in the last few weeks, so he couldn’t say your presence was unwelcome. Maybe you could be the good kid that he never was.

There had to be something more to that, maybe just because he was attracted to you and it wasn’t something he was used to. Romance had never really fit his image, never grounded itself in his head, it didn’t seem like a concept meant for him. Imagine someone who looked like him having a crush. Not to mention he was horrible at flirting even if he attempted to try. He couldn’t get words out in normal conversation, how the hell was he supposed to be smooth and charming in front of someone he was infatuated with?

He doesn’t know why he’s having these thoughts. They’re annoying, interrupting his sleep, and making him shift around at the concept of you walking into the living room to see him staring up at the ceiling rather than sleeping. He huffed, turning on his side, trying to settle himself into the couch that he was far too big for.

Ryoga didn’t believe in love at first sight… but what else could this be?

[bobbybutterfly]

I’m back ya’ll with more art! I had all the characters designed for a while but didn’t get around to posting them. Now I’m going through sort of an art block. I’ve got lots of ideas for stuff but everything I draw is crap. So I thought I should catch up on my other stuff. Like talking about this squirrel design for Apple Jack. Now isn’t she cute!

I really like the colours on the powered up ponies. Though I did give her a different shade of pink I thought suited her better. I also gave her a bolo because southern. These uniforms aren’t supposed to be realistic. More like something they would wear in promo images. Lastly look at the little band I put in her tail. I should do something like that with other squirrels.

I made her a squirrel because they’re farmers and Apple Jack’s personality is farm. Nah. I don’t approve Apple Jack hate. I didn’t think of her all that much, when I watched MLP as a kid. Now as an adult (it feels so weird writing that) I find her relationship with her family quite interesting. She always puts herself last. Probably because she was parentified, by having to take care of Apple Bloom and the farm. One of these days I got to write an Apple Jack / Rainbow Dash fanfic. I think she contrasts well with Rainbow Dash’s selfishness.

In the Squirrel and Hedgehog universe she would be raised very patriotic. She would often be the voice of reason. Though she would butt heads with Pinkie Pie over leaving her family and Fluttershy for not wanting to serve her country.

I don’t know why my ramble about the first character is always so long. Anyways. One of my best designs, Rarity! Originally I wanted to make her a mouse and reserve the weasels for the alicorns. But come on. Rarity deserved all the glam only reserved for high ranking military officers.

She was born into a royal family. Given a high ranking position in military since birth. Rainbow Dash had to earn her high rank through blood sweat and tears. With both of them having quite strong personalities they would of course hate each other. Rarity likes being in the military and bossing animals around. Though she can be a bit too much sometimes, she has a soft spot for mice. She doesn’t see them as her equals, but treats them better than many weasels.

Lastly Twilling Sparkle! My best design. It’s the bangs and eyes. I specially didn’t put any highlights in them. The idea for her came from my IRL friend. She told me Twilight Sparkle should be a lab rat. Technically she’s a lab mouse but the joke still works! Once I get over this drawing problem I might do the honorary seventh members. Sunset Shimmer (probably a fox) and Starlight Glimmer (definitely a hedgehog).

Until now I haven’t thought of how Twilight became a scientist. She probably started as a regular soldier. Then one day they needed a lab assistant. She would prove to be quite good so the scientist decided to teach her the ways.

Now I guess I should mention my idea for this MLP Squirrel and Hedgehog fanfic. Basically the mane six would crash on a deserted island. They would have to throw away all their prejudices to survive. Proving friendship is magic. I should do some research how war prisoners are transported. And some research on military ranks too. I’m not sure who is captured. I thought it would be the weasel side considering there’s a scientist amongst them. But on the other paw how would a group of ordinary soldiers manage to catch such high ranking animals?

If you got any ideas for this story, please write to me.

[lilacella]

🎂Sirius' Birthday Week Day 4: His relationship with Harry

Alright, we all know what canonically happened on this date but in this instance FUCK CANON! (*Stede Bonnet voice*: No, not literally! STOP!!!)

So what if Harry got to grow up with godfather Padfoot?

This got a bit lengthy but I just had a bunch of thoughts about this. Good uncle Padfoot is very important to me.

I think Sirius would be sceptical about becoming godfather while Lily was pregnant. He wouldn't tell the happy parents and was of course overjoyed that they thought of him but he had his reservations. He just couldn't image he'd be good at that.

When Harry was born and he held him for the first time he was terrified he'd drop him. He was so scared he would do something wrong and hurt the child in whatever way possible and for that reason did not want to be around baby Harry all that much.

But James and Lily needed his support. With the grandparents out of the picture, he was their "village" and Sirius had sworn he would never let James down. So - Sirius being an all or nothing type of guy - he dove right in. Buried himself in parenting books - muggle ones, he has lost all trust in magical parenting due to his own upbringing -, buys one of these baby carries for his chest and takes Harry on little walks through the park when the new parents are close to a breakdown.

The two soon find their rythm and when Harry is three months old, Sirius is entirely smitten. He would murder for this child in a heartbeat. When he comes to visit and picks Harry up he covers his little head in kisses and Lily starts joking that he is fussing more about him than her (that is a lie).

As Harry grows older they keep bonding. Whenever Sirius leaves the country for work or vacation he always writes Harry postcards. At first James has to read them for him but when Harry is older he starts writing back. For the first year or so the cards and letters are entirely unreadable but Sirius still keeps all of them in a box in his wardrobe, together with every messy drawing he ever gave him.

Friday night is Padfoot night and Harry sleeps at Sirius' place. They always do something fun together: Watch a movie in a muggle cinema, play all the boardgames Harry has managed to carry in, go for a camping trip on a hill to look at the stars.

Harry loves Padfoot night.

He also loves Padfoot. He rides on the giant dog until he is too big and heavy. Then they switch to playing fetch. Harry is the only one Padfoot would ever fetch anything for.

When Harry goes to Hogwarts, Sirius gives him a reassuring talk that he is loved, no matter what house he will end up in. He means it.

During school years, there is no Padfoot night but instead Sirius will send Harry letters every week. At first Harry loves that but when he becomes a teen he is annoyed. The ususal way of life. Sirius is a little hurt but he understands and doesn't hold it against him.

When Harry starts playing Quidditch, Sirius will make a point to come to his games, sitting behind Lucius Malfoy and clapping loudly next to his ear whenever Griffindor scores. It has the desired effect.

Sirius would be a constant in Harry’s life, just as his parents intended. He is the fun wine aunt but at the same time he isn't. Because he is just as worried and concerned about Harry’s wellbeing as his parents. Maybe part of this is about proving to himself that he can do better than his own parents. That he can provide a child with love and care and safety. And he can. And he does.

When Harry moves into a new house, James and Sirius build his kitchen together.

When Harry gets married, Sirius is there and holding a speech. Padfoot brings the rings.

When Harry's first child is born, Sirius is just as involved as the actual grandparents.

They would be close, unbothered by the ups and downs of life. Even when they don't talk for a while, Harry knows he is alway welcome with Sirius. He will always greet him with open arms no matter what.

[someonefromsometown]

CIV VII; A defense of civ choices

I have seen significant backlash on the forums regarding Firaxis' choices in regards to what civs to include and not to include within Civ VII.

The image above contains the complete list of base game civs, as understood from official sources and leaks. The most common issues levied agienst the roster are:

No British Civ in the Modern Age

No Portuguese Civ in the Exploration Age

6 slots being dedicated to China and India

A majority of countries lacking a true "Historical" pathway

After mulling over the list for a long time, I eventually realized that I'm okay with the compromises made here, even if they lead to some occasionally strange results.

Let's agree on one fact to start: 30 civs was the maximum. Given the constraints of developer time and resources, we couldn't have gotten any more Civs in the base game. If that is the case, what needs to be prioritized when choosing what goes into the game. I would argue that the intention was diversity in game play.

When I say "diversity in game play" I'm not referring to capital D "Diversity", but rather the different play styles and a game allows. If a Civ game were comprised of only militaristic Civs, then the experience would be lesser. The game would either boil down to who can be the best at war or make war useless as everyone is good at it. Civ, despite being a symmetrical grand strategy game, needs asymmetries in the strategies a player would employ.

Civ VII seems to want to embrace all styles of play. Give the age goal mechanics, ideally you want to be able to choose a CIV in the next era that is able to capitalize on good science, culture, or what have you from the previous era.

That brings me to Britain and Portugal. Are they important historically? Yes! Do they bring something new to the table? I'd argue no. Britain is a shoe in for expansion and economics. An economic powerhouse built on a massive empire. Heartbeat of steam. That also all applies to America. Similarly, we have Portugal. Great navigator, colonizer, and empire builder. They sail off into distant lands with intentions to bring back as much as they can. And so did Spain.

The question for them is not "why not replace someone?", but rather "why America over Britain?" and "why Spain over Portugal". For the former I don't know, and honestly I find the decision to be one built mostly on preference. For the ladder I'd assume it's because Spain has a stronger military association with their actions in the new world, allowing them to be a naval civ with a military focus rather then the near total economic expectations that Portugal holds.

As for China and India, we find Civs that have very unique gameplay styles. The Ming live with a tradeoff of science for adaptability. The Chola are the highly diplomatic naval power. The Qing works as a land empire wanting international trade, with issues of falling behind on science. These are experiences that aren't in the game otherwise. Compare if we had a German trifecta, where we'd run into issues with redundancies with other military land based empires or diplomatic empires.

Oftentimes we'll find that the historical choices are going to run into issues of redundancies. While any given European power is not interchangeable, co-existence leads to similarities, both between eras and within an era. Venice is a civ I would love to see return as a path from Greece or Rome, but I acknowledge that it would be a similar experience to Chola. If this game has 30 unique civs, I don't want two of them to play the same. Even if that means that it looks a bit like a hodgepodge

This isn't all to say that these civs will never come, that there aren't other factors involved, or that I don't care about the history. I can't wait to see how they try to differentiate Portugal or Britain or any other power that's been left out. The Civ list does have issues; there's somewhat worrying implications to having no native modern era civs, South America doesn't get anything, and the middle east feeling strangely bear. But, all and all, I don't mind the list we've been given because it looks fun. And why else would I play CIV VII

[eternclsunshine]

more in-depth lore about Camille's family.

Angelica Byron and Tripp Rose - the parents. a once iconic Hollywood power couple. Angelica was a famous broadway actress in her prime, later turned television soap opera actress once she became 'too old' or 'middle aged' in her own words. Tripp was a big time film actor in the 90's and 2000's, primarily known for his roles in action films.

They're slightly inspired by Jolie-Pitt family. But only in the sense that they've adopted several different children from multicultural backgrounds. The reasons Angelica/Tripp (the parents) chose to adopt were for positive optics in the media, and Angelica is too vain/selfish to carry out pregnancies because she didn't want it to interfere with her career or physical appearance. Also the fact that she saw these children more like 'accessories' rather than building a family. She basically saw these poor orphans from third world countries and went "that's cute I want one of those"

In total there's four children - Nadine, Camille, Beau, and Yvonne. A lot of their childhood years were spent being paraded around as a family on red carpets and events.

Around when Camille was in her early teens, her parents went through a very public messy divorce. They were both terrible and equally at fault. Often slammed each other in the press and in front of their children. Purposely created a rift between their family and forced the kids to take sides. Camille took their mother's side while Nadine took their fathers - and the younger two remained neutral bc they were too young to really understand.

Fast forward to adulthood, when Camille and her siblings are all still divided and have taken to publicly feuding with each other.

Most of the drama is between Camille and her older sister Nadine since they're the most vocal about their personal/family issues. Nadine is very calculated and petty, often shading Camille and their little sister Yvonne for not having 'any talent' and relying on nepotism to stay relevant. Which is... lmao considering her acting career is built off their dad's connections. The hypocrisy pisses off Camille to no end and she has no problem crashing out or dragging her back. Which doesn't help her reputation at all but she doesn't care.

Camille doesn't have an issue with Beau or Yvonne to the extent she does with Nadine, but their lack of opinion and them 'staying out of the drama' irritates her. She feels like they're unintentionally taking a stance against her or making her look bad.

She does fight with Beau quite a bit. Mostly because he likes to stir the pot and say stupid shit in the middle of Camille/Nadine's internet fights. He's very much the person to be fake unbothered and indirectly shade them on his stories or posts. He's definitely said stuff like "Idk I was asleep" "bitches are so messy" or a simple "LOL". He's been called out on it from Camille or Nadine, but he's too much of a coward to address them directly.

Camille is closest to Yvonne. She's sweet and wants everyone to get along, but will never say anything or try to back anyone up. Doesn't have much of a backbone or opinion on anything, even if she's the one getting dragged or called out. Will occasionally play the victim if things get nasty.

context on each of the siblings:

Nadine Rose - camille's older sister. a film actress and absolute diva. got to where she is due to her dads connections and bribery. took their dad's surname in solidarity with him. has an excellent PR team who always makes her look like 'the good guy' in all this.

Beau Rose - camille's younger brother. an up and coming fashion designer renowned for their innovative, androgynous / gender-defying designs. only took their dad's name because it 'sounded better' for their brand and image.

Yvonne Rose-Byron - the baby of the family. beauty influencer and wannabe makeup mogul (insp by k.ylie j.enner). struggling to find her place in the world but has zero ambitions. optimistic and delusionally wishes her family would get along.