#this was when you'd have to push a number several times to get a letter

[ifindus]

Hi!! I’m learning Norwegian right now and I was wondering if you have any tips about the language as a native? Maybe some slang or good books you could recommend! :D

🤩💖

I'd def recommend having a look at NRK's website for free shows and films if you have a VPN. As for book recommendations I'd suggest the Phenomena series (I loved them as a kid), or Alvetegnet with Gravbøygen Våkner as an absolute favourite of mine with great folklore inspirations, and Sigurd Drakedreperen by Torill T. Hauger.

Some slang(?) for you:

Skjer? - What's up? lit. trans.: Happening?

Serr? - Seriously? shortening of "seriøst"

Hils - not really slang, but means to say hi to someone else for someone. Like "Oh, you're seeing them later? Hils", and when they see the person they'll say "Oh btw, I hilse from that person".

Lættis - Funny.

Klein - Awkward. Older meaning: ill/sick.

Legg - ID. short for Legitimasjon.

Those are the most common ones I can think of, but there's plenty more in different dialects; sju (skjønner du - you see) and læll (allikevel - regardless) from my own.

[bambambunny]

Fatui Cat (Segment Edition!) pt. 2

Once again I am so so sorry it's been a month. I know how annoying it is for chapters to be slow and this one's pretty short. I have no real excuse but pls enjoy.

Warnings: little bit of existential horror, it gets kinda intense pls be advised

Relationships: Platonic segments / gn cat!reader

Summary: you observe the segments and the reality of your situation finally sets in.

Wc: 705

Part 1

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Slowly but surely, everyone settles into the rhythm of their projects. What a lovely introduction, well aside from being dropped but you’re a sturdy little thing. You let your gaze wander from one segment to the next, from your spot by the door. They didn't exactly all look like the Dottore you knew, they were all different ages. To someone who didn't know better, they would have looked like brothers.

There was the oldest looking one, judging by the greying hair and beard, he seemed to be pouring over some dusty tomes. You recall how he gave #7 room to compose himself. He probably wouldn't be too adverse to you being here. Perhaps like Pierro if he wasn't such a sourpuss…

There was a slightly younger clone, maybe 50; You were never good at estimating ages. In your professional opinion, this one would be the dilf of the squad. He’s furiously scribbling on some blue prints and he has several coffee mugs around him.

One segment looks almost exactly like Normal Dottore and he’s tinkering with his own biometrics. Gross. You get that they’re robots or whatever but it looks like he has blood. Ok thats enough! On to the next one...

There's one who looks like he’d be in college, shorter hair and kinda lanky and no eye mask. He has a whiteboard in front of him with a maddening amount of equations. Good god, there's more letters than numbers! You look away before you get an aneurysm.

Another segment, like the one before but even younger, is flitting about his desk stacked with various terrariums. You can't see what sort of animal the terrariums hold from your spot on the floor but you catch a glimpse of some tropical looking leaves and a heat light. He gets something from a minifridge nestled in a corner and retrieves something that looks like mice? You walk a bit closer and notice they’re glowing an unnatural purple. Nevermind.

The electric crackle of a welding machine catches your attention. When you turn to look, there is a teenager working on a massive robot. And it's not just massive to a cat, it's massive. Suddenly it powers up! You dash away to a dark quiet corner.

Everything’s so big and loud and you don't like it! You push yourself further into the corner and hide your face in your own fur.

Your breath starts to hasten.

It feels like you can't breathe.

For the first time, since you got here, you feel scared. You'd been so caught up in the wonder of a world you only ever saw on a screen that it hadn't occurred to you that you were stuck.

You were stuck.

In this world, in this nation, in this palace, in this body.

There is no feasible way to gain back any of the control you once had – back when you were behind a screen, with a simple user interface and a few buttons to press, you can't even have the control of just some normal human!

You're scared and alone in a place you don't fully understand. No matter how closely you hold yourself to familiar characters, they won't really understand what you are or what you've lost.

As of now, you are the only person in this entire world who holds the knowledge of Earth, of its customs…

…of your life.

One day you will forget, and the memory of your humanity will be lost forever.

…

…

Is this what you wanted?

You are ripped from your thoughts by a gentle but firm hand, it carries you up then presses you to the chest of someone that smells like dust and chemicals. You look up and realise it's the old man.

He pets your head gently, "oh poor thing, did the machines frighten you?

You nudge your head against his hand in conformation. He makes a small hum of consideration then begins to walk to his desk, still holding you.

"I know Prime said not to, but it would not do to leave you like this", he rests you in his lap then continues to mull about his dusty old tomes. He keeps a hand petting your fur until you fall asleep.

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Taglist:

@etherisy @franc-1-s @assassinsnek101

(If you wanna be removed or added to the taglist pls comment)

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #226

Today is Thursday.

We have made the drive to Washington DC.

We are here. And I know it's unwarranted to feel this way, but still… it's almost as though I am just a hair's breadth from you.

Silly. I know. Never mind it.

The air in this place isn't quite as bad as I thought it was going to be. Don't get me wrong, it is some mid-to-upper 90s (32-36 degrees C), but it's not nearly as humid as I expected. Being in this place is kind of like having a hot, wet towel waggled aggressively at you. When I was last in Maryland, it was in Owings Mills, and I remember, even in the morning, going outside was like being beaten half to death with bricks wrapped in hot, soggy towels. I couldn't go outside, except very briefly. I'm glad that the weather here doesn't seem to be like the weather there.

Still, it's enough that I have to be careful about exerting myself if I don't wanna end up using my rescue inhaler. We carried our stuff from the parking garage where the car is to the hotel, and we needed to make two trips to get it done. I am feeling pretty woozy from having overheated, but my lungs didn't close up or anything. Yay!

Along the way, we stopped at a place called Pizza Yeah. That's in a place called Langhorne, Pennsylvania. It was on the route to DC. Last time we were in Langhorne, J was still playing trumpet regularly in all kinds of different places. He had gotten paid to take part in a Christmas performance, so for a number of weeks, we made several weekend trips there, so that J could participate in rehearsal.

I went with him to make sure that he ate and took care of himself; it's a requirement, because if left to his own devices, he'll push himself way too hard, work without taking any breaks, sleep in the car instead of in a bed, try to subsist entirely on granola bars, dry cereal, and water, and then wonder why he's so exhausted and miserable and borderline suicidal.

…I wonder if you two would get along; you and he have more than a few self-destructive tendencies in common, good grief. I swear to goodness, both y'all gotta stop doing that shit. Cut it out, willya???

Anyway, so back then, we went to Pizza Yeah, because it was close to the hotel we were staying in. And Sephiroth... oh my goodness, their pizza is the stuff of LEGENDS. We haven't been back there since we went all those years ago, and this is really sad. But!!! J noticed that it was along the route, so we decided to stop there for lunch! AND!!! It was super convenient, because it was pretty much at the halfway point between our house and Washington DC, time-wise. So we ate there! And it was EPIC!!!

And before you ask, yes, of course I got pictures for you!! You've read enough of my letters by now, no? What do you take me for??? Hahahaha!!

...Of course, I also snagged some pictures along the drive... These aren't in order, though; forgive me...

...I love taking pictures for you, because I love showing you how beautiful this world can be.

Hey? Did you notice? I'm getting better at taking pictures of birds-of-prey in the sky, even in a moving vehicle! Pretty rad, right? Do you like them...?

Well. I had better get ready for tomorrow. We are at the hotel, and I still have to shower, and I have to wash my CPAP and scrub the inside of my face with the tiny bristle brush, and all that stuff.

Hey, Sephiroth...? I'm gonna do the great big scary thing tomorrow. I don't suppose you'd lend me some of your courage, strength, and determination, would you...? I don't suppose you'd lend me some of your ability to be gentle even when I'm tired and frightened... would you...? I don't... I don't suppose you'd watch over me just a little, would you?

I'll do my best tomorrow. And I'll write to you tomorrow, too, when I get a chance, I promise. So please stay safe out there; I'm sure you wouldn't wanna miss hearing all about how it goes...

I love you. Good night...

Your friend, Lumine

[kondo-hijikata]

My most knowledgeable Kondou knower, can I ask you what makes a Kondou RP blog an actual decent Kondou RP blog? What does it take to get this man on paper correctly? What are your tips (if you'd not mind to share!)

*blush blush* you flatter me. D: I can rattle off some info but it’s important for me to toss out the disclaimer: writing is based on interpretation so if anyone happens to disagree with what I lay out here, please go on with how you want to write and ignore me. Why am I saying that? I know how easy it is to see some random post on writing or characterization and feel demotivated. I’m majorly MAJORLY salty about how modern media snubs him and pushes him aside, so if you’re interested in writing Kondo’s character, I’m already supporting you.

As with any character, it depends on what universe/series you’re writing for but I think all the Kat-chans I’ve encountered can fit into some of the same qualities and share the same historical background.

- He is an ideal samurai through and through. That means he’s loyal to the core of his very soul to the Tokugawa regime and sticks to his convictions. He will die for the shogunate. He will send his soldiers to die for the shogunate. Protecting the Tokugawa is his number one priority.

- He has great pride in being a samurai and honoring what it means to really be one because of his roots. Though his father was well-off, he still hailed from a farming family which was the lowest societal class. Before the Edo era, shogun Toyotomi Hideyoshi banned the ownership of swords and other weapons from anyone who wasn’t a samurai. When you’re living in rural areas though, the government can’t protect you from thieves and the like, so farmers studied kenjutsu to look after their own lands and possessions. Kondo was dedicated in his practice and while his father was away, he (as a teenager) and his brothers stopped thieves from raiding their house. His talents were noticed by Kondo Shusuke from the Shieikan, who was looking for an heir. Shusuke went on to adopt him and therefore taking him from the lowest class to the highest. Amazing, incredible. You’re doing great, sweetie!

- At this point in the Edo era, samurai were said to have become lazy as there were no wars to fight in. Kondo rejected this and was dedicated to being what he believed was the ideal spirit of bushi. He was respectful in how he spoke to superiors and other samurai.

- He went through several name changes throughout his life. He was born as Miyagawa Katsugoro. Upon adoption, he took the name Shimazaki Katsuta. When he succeeded in taking over the Shieikan, he was known as Kondo Isami. Toward the end of his life when the Shinsengumi returned to Edo, he was known by the aliases Okubo Tsuyoshi and Okubo Yamato to protect his identity from Shinsengumi enemies quickly closing in on the east.

- He could be good-natured around his friends and had a sense of humor (yes, I’m talking about the good old fist in the mouth) but don’t mistake this for stupidity or naivety. He was extremely knowledgeable about politics and current events. He could debate and wasn’t intimidated to call out anyone on their bullshit. He had the ear of Matsudaira Katamori and even the shogun at one point.

- He was a born leader with magnetism who was capable of inspiring and commanding the respect of those around him. The first members of the Shinsengumi had sworn loyalty to him as their teacher at the Shieikan and stayed at his side for most of the war. Even after Nagakura split from the group much later citing disapproval of Kondo and Hijikata’s “egos”, he went on to build a grave to honor them.

- Speaking of Hijikata, a lot of media today portrays him as the main decision maker with Kondo as some frivolous figurehead who doesn’t know left from right. Pshhh, no. If Hijikata somehow could know his popularity succeeds Kondo’s in this age, I wager he’d be ridiculously upset. Kondo lived to serve and protect the shogunate as Hijikata lived to serve and protect Kondo. He was instrumental in forming the Shinsengumi and absolutely had say in many things, but that didn’t make Kondo irrelevant or incompetent.

- Kondo was a warrior. He killed his enemies, and a lot of them. I can sit here and romanticize about how he was a nerd as a kid who loved reading or how he practiced calligraphy at night in Kyoto, but it can’t be forgotten that he was a soldier fighting a war. He’d seen some shit. He’d done some shit.

- Let’s talk about the Roshigumi! Hundreds of ronin were rounded up in the east by Kiyokawa Hachiro. They would march to Kyoto to stop anti-Tokugawa forces (lookin at u, Choshu) in their tracks. Upon arriving in the west though, Kiyokawa was like “lmao jk yall. we’re actually opposing Tokugawa and now we all have to walk back to the east and have a battle in Yokohama.” Kondo, ever loyal to Tokugawa, refused. He and his Shieikan men stayed behind and troublesome Serizawa did too since he had no place to go. Serizawa refused to acknowledge Kondo as the leader, so they compromised on having both of them lead. We all know what happened there, Serizawa did a lot of terrible things. Kondo had to clean up his messes and make excuses for his behavior, while trying to make a name for the Roshigumi and gain enough rep to be noticed by Matsudaira. Eventually, he did gain that attention and from there, Matsudaira went on to rely on Kondo’s expertise and his men to keep Choshu down. Like his adoption into the samurai class, this was no easy feat and I’m immensely impressed that he managed to do this.

- HE’S NOT AN OLD MAN. ffs, another thing most modern media would have us believe is that he’s a decade or more older than Hijikata. Kondo was born in November 1834. Hijikata was born in May 1835.

- He was said to be average height (around 5′4/167-ish cm iirc?) with a very athletic build from all the training.

- The last Tokugawa shogun Yoshinobu (*HISS*) and naval commander Katsu Kaishu (*DOUBLE HISS*) expected Kondo and his Shinsengumi to either die off or disband after they fled Kyoto. When he showed up with his men in the east, they didn’t know what to do with them. Katsu then ordered Kondo to change the group name from Shinsengumi to Kouyo-Chinbutai and take Kofu castle where they were severely outnumbered. Basically, he was giving them all a place to die. They’d managed to get some promises of recruits which never showed up, lost the battle, and needed to retreat. The group then settled temporarily in Nagareyama.

- Though there’s no official confirmation, he was executed for a crime he very likely didn’t commit: the assassination of Sakamoto. A member of the Mimawarigumi claimed responsibility for it years later. Sakamoto was a legend in his home of Tosa and people were understandably infuriated at his murder. Kondo was the scapegoat for it. He surrendered himself at Nagareyama to allow the remaining soldiers to escape. Hijikata wanted to surrender himself at the same time so he would die with Kondo, but Kondo insisted he keep carrying their banner and leading the group. I’m not crying, you’re crying.

- His sexuality and relationships are wide open to your interpretation. His marriage to Tsune was arranged, like many were in that time period. He had concubines in Kyoto, Miyuki being the most famous. These are broad statements I’m making here that can’t speak for every person but.... Same sex relationships (marriage/procreation) weren’t accepted because the point of that was to produce children...but same sex relations (physical and emotional connection) among men were rampant. There’s historical evidence from a letter Kondo wrote that he was perfectly aware it was going on in the Shinsengumi. Shinsengumi members went on to say Kondo and Hijikata were two halves of one whole. Again, Nagakura built them a joint grave. You decide. I already have. lmao

- Whether you romantically pair them together or not though, Kondo was the most important person in Hijikata’s life and vice versa. They had an indestructible bond, not even severed by Kondo’s execution. Hijikata fought on to clear Kondo’s name after his death.

WOW THIS GOT LONG......

The tl;dr here is, if I were writing Kondo in rp, these are the qualities I would give him: committed to living his life under bushi code (which has likely been overly romanticized compared to reality but hey), committed to serving the Tokugawa, can be friendly with his closest friends but a little colder with soldiers/others he isn’t close to, knows how to fight, knows politics, knows how to debate and hold his own. Genuinely likeable by nature, has the respect of his followers, has the respect of Matsudaira after proving himself. Has fierce loyalty from his men and even after some leave the group, they won’t let anyone drag his name. Strong-willed and stubborn on political issues he backs. Reflective and thoughtful in down time. Reliable to those who depend on him. Quiet and calculating in groups but absolutely willing to speak up when he disagrees. And never ever ever forgiving of the Satcho coup, or anyone who supports it.

[sundancetarot]

“Red Lights and a Suit” Kirishima x ENBY Reader // SFW COMFORT FIC

Hey Guys!! This is my first fic- I quite literally wrote it for my partner but if you want some of that comfort Kiri love, THEN COME GET YA’LL JUICE LMAOO

Description: After recieving news at school pertaining to a school dance, Kiri helps lift your spirits.

Pairing: Non-Binary reader x Eijiro Kirishima

Word Count: 2279

Includes: Loving relationship, affection, pet names, hugs, and appreciation.

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"Grab my hand and keep your eyes closed tight, I don't want the surprised spoiled!".

Hesitantly, you grab a shaken Eiji as he steers your blind eye somewhere you've never experienced but, it feels familiar... somehow, but how? Two steps turned into four, four into six, six into nine, and so on.

"Okay- one more step... watch out for the step.. another... a third- OKAY! Open.".

You want to see wants behind these hands but your brain is having trouble communicating with your bones. You're not nervous but... envious, in ways. Finally, after your self-to-self speech, your hands lower to come in contact with a foggy image of-

{BEEEEEP}

"SHIT-" That was all that could leave your lips... well, there was also FUCK, DAMN, ASS, and your personal "I've been awakened into a frightened state" favorite- CUNT!

You turn over to your phone to finally shut off the constant ringing of your most recent anime binge watch's opening credits song- not your favorite- your most recent.

After, the all too familiar urge of procrastination, you finally manage to shut off the CORRECT alarm this time. Even so, shutting off an alarm has never had many benefits besides reducing the antagonizing screech of above the volume music... however, until now, you have never been greeted by a sleeping Kirishima on your screen behind the alarm window.

That's right... we fell asleep on Facetime together.

You're not surprised that eventually, you'd have these moments- you find the idea of him next to you somewhat comforting.

His blood red-like hair falling onto his pillow has always been a pretty sight to you. His pointed teeth exposed to you, no one knows what he dreams, as he tends to forget but- the way he smiles, even in sleep... No, especially in his sleep, is behind adorable.

You could see from the angle of the phone he had his red LED lights on the highest setting, (typical, was your immediate thought), he has self-drawn art of him in his Red Riot costume with "MANLY" written in comically large lettering under, above, or to the sides of each portrait, this is too cute.

Eiji mentioned last night that he sleeps without a shirt on, he decided to give you this information the moment you started to dose off. Fortunately, waking up before him grants you the pleasure of finally witnessing his rock-hard exterior (I'm so sorry.).

{BEEEEEEEEEP}

"CUNT-" told you. Once again you mistake snooze for the off option. You pick your phone up off the carpet, after launching it several feet in the air. Luckily, your side of the facetime's audio is off and Eiji didn't hear the exaggerated explosion of sounds.

Picking your phone up off the ground which was disconnected from your charger immediately, makes your gut sink deep into your ass, your brain catches up to what you're seeing and pushes your body to practically fly into the bathroom seeing as you only have 40 minutes to get ready now.

That seems like plenty of time if you would have actually showered the night before. Rushing back into your room for your towel, you place Kiri on the sink's counter.

Starting up the shower was a difficult task when you're removing your clothes at the same time, you eventually set it to the right temperature and successfully remove your oversized hoodie with boxer briefs underneath with ease.

After washing your body, you manage to carefully launch yourself back into your room to moisturize and get dressed- you place Kiri on your dresser with a view of you after putting on your underwear.

"Well- aren't you glowing Bubbles?". That humbled cockiness in a person's tone can only come from one person and only this person can make you jump out of your skin in excitement. You turn to face him putting on his shirt because, unlike you, he takes a shower the night before to avoid a rush.

"fuc- don't scare me like that Red!". You definitely miscalculated the emotion there because that was NOT fear, it was a sentiment of emotions on how what he said made you feel inside. Nearly dropping to your knees you tighten up your composure and continue with your routine.

"Sorry babes, you do look unbelievable this morning though." Blushing was definitely out of the question, ain't nothing burning through that melanin babes. Instead, your stomach burns in butterflies as you muster up the words...

"You missed a button on your shirt, Red.". Cool, that was cool.

No, it wasn't.

You can see he wants to make another remark but you notice the new arrangement of numbers on your clock.

[7:27 AM]

Eiji notices your expressions and the faster tempo in your steps as you go from rushing to being quicker than the speed of light. As you reach the door you hear Kiri clear his throat in a way to tell you about the one thing you forgot... HIM! Nearly, slipping under your bed you grab your phone in one swift motion and bolt downstairs.

You don't have time to eat the breakfast your parents teamed up to make so you grab toast and a Capri Sun, hug your parents, pet Rubble; your St. Benard, and bolt for the door.

You hear Kiri's radio in his car blare indistinctive lyrics from his favorite genre "Rock-N-Roll" (I'm so sorry.). You finally start to make your way to school where you pass the place you and Kiri had your first date.

As you ponder the thought of the first time you ever saw him cry, the moment you saw him smile, and the day he said he's his happiest with you casts an unbreakable spell around you. A spell you would never want an antidote for.

After a handful of minutes, you pull into the parking lot across the street from the UA entrance and began the new day. You walk past your classmates greeted with the usual "Hey, Y/N!". From Shoji, "HEY KISSES!". From the always bubbly Uraraka, "Alright boo, heyyy- AH, mwah!" from your favorite person in this school (besides Red of course) Mina.

Speaking of favorite people...

"Guess who?" A pair of hands appear over your eyes and an obviously forced high pitched voice lets you know exactly who it is.

"Hmm... Koda!"

"YE- wait, huh?" Kiri stands there confused arms unraveled from you. You turn with a gigantic smirk plastered across your face, eyes slanted, with defined smile lines signifying your humorous poke at him.

"Oh- haha, laugh out loud- super manly of you." You can hear his sarcasm bursting through his lips. You quickly place your arms around his waist giving him the tightest squeeze letting him know without words how much you miss him. Almost as if without any effort, he grabs you and lifts you into the air, wrapping your legs around him you give him an even tighter hug.

This day, like most, was pretty uneventful so, you zone out... as usual. When you finally come to, you find yourself wrapped around Ojiro's tail, who doesn't mind the immense affection. After your third class period, you meet up with your friends in the cafeteria.

Like any other day, you offer to pay for Uraraka who happily accepts; even when she has enough for a meal you still insist. I mean- why not? Kiri always has your bill.

[2:38 PM]

We finally reach last period and the class president Tenya, announces the school's annual Sadie Hawkins dance. [Brief Sadie Hawkins dance explanation: A dance in a tradition where the girl asks the boy out.]

"Well- what are Y/N and Eijiro going to do?" huh.

"How is Y/N going to ask out Eijiro- they're not a girl therefore how will they find a date to go?" Stupidity graced this one early but, embarrassment graced you immediately.

You couldn't form your words properly to explain or defend, you could only leave. Eiji tries to come after you but you signal him to stay there.

"You're such a douche you know that, right?" Kiri says dropping his almost permanent grin.

"LANGUAGE!" Iida screeches while flapping his limbs completely missing his faults.

[8:13 PM]

You sit in your room foolishly stumped by Iida's uncalled for questions. It doesn't make sense, honestly, you would never let Iida's "no thoughts, just speak" way of speech get to you.

You pause your binge of "Criminal Minds" to go down to the kitchen for a quick snack when you see a bright flare of red pass by your kitchen window wrapping around to the front of your house.

Your immediate thought is that this must be a police car making its way to a crime scene- being a hero in training gave you the instinct of potential bad around every corner. So, this was not a threat nor surprise to you.

{My Red Riot❤️ one (1) new message}

You were wondering where he's been all day. You haven't spoken to him all day, you even tried texting him, and you were left on read by red (I'm sorry once again.) with no response. You are curious as to what he has to say though.

{My Red Riot❤️ : Come outside.}

I won't say I'm nervous but I am definitely confused. I make my way to the front door and take a deep breath while turning the knob...

"Hey, Bubbles." standing there in a grey suit with a red tie, red handkerchief in the left chest pocket, maroon shoes accompanied by burgundy calf socks, and a rose pinned to his suit to top it all off next to his Jeep Wrangler with modified red headlights was your Red Riot.

"We don't need a school dance to strengthen our relationship when we have each other to look at and each other to embrace- I promise to never have this become a rocky relationship..."

You chuckle at the very thought-provoking joke. "... I love you Bubbles." How could anyone be so lucky? You can feel the tears forming already as he walks towards you.

Lifting your chin up to face him he asks you one question...

"Can I kiss you?". You meet his eyes, you feel equal.

"Yes- Of course, you can Red...". He lifts your face up higher and your lips meet he has just confirmed that you are equal- more than partners, but lovers.

You don't know where to put your arms, what to think, or what to feel but it doesn't matter. You feel safe, you feel protected, you are loved.

You pull apart from each other for a moment before getting another quick peck before a grin paints his face, it resembles The Cheshire Cat's smug grin. You don't know whether to be comforted or genuinely terrified by the devilish stare.

"Well- aren't ya gonna get dressed?"

"For?". What has he planned?

"For our Sadie Hawkins- Bubbles, DUH!"

"Oh- I mean, um, YES; of course! Our Sadie Hawkins!". You don't know what he's talking about but, You trust what he does. You rush back inside to my room... time to do the damn thing.

After a while of searching for combinations, You walked out the front door in a black turtleneck, burgundy blazer with black buttons and lining, matching dress pants, and black Doc Martens for footwear to a stunned Kiri.

"Wow- you look... stunning, Y/N." You haven't heard him say my name since we started dating, it's such a genuine feeling. Kiri pauses and rushes back to the car, in a hurry he returns with a small box... this isn't a- right?

Kiri falls to his knee and lifts up the box to a petunia corsage that he slides onto your wrist, completing your look. He picks you up and carries you towards the car door where he reaches out his right arm to open it and places you inside with his left.

The car ride is smooth, no bums in the road and if there were you didn't notice- you could only pay attention to Kiri's presence. You feel a breeze sweep your hand and look down to Red's hand comfortably resting on yours.

He's warm and his hand is incredibly soft definitely the opposite of his Unbreakable form. Being with him in this car feels almost sheltering to you, like a second home of love.

While you were off daydreaming, the car stopped in front of Kiri's house. Your door opens to fully red Kirishima, clearly embarrassed by his blush, you don't react to it much. A sharp feeling strikes your brain as soon as his hand gently grasps yours... you've lived this before.

"Grab my hand and keep your eyes closed tight, I don't want the surprised spoiled!".

Right- your quirk of future vision. It feels dreamlike but as soon as it's put into motion you can pinpoint everything that'll occur after the first stage, it helps with catching villains in the act of their crimes.

"Okay- one more step... watch out for the step.. another... a third- OKAY! Open.".

You let down our hands to a bundle of streamers, lights, and a painted canvas of you and Kiri with a message written on the bottom of it "RED RIOT'S REASON TO RIOT". You don't even give yourself time to process before leaping into his arms with a kiss, you both fall back onto his lawn where you spontaneously combust into laughter.

This night has been the greatest you've ever had- he knew your favorite movies to watch, shows to binge, and music to dance to the entire night. He knows you.

"I love you, Red."

"I love you, Bubbles."

⬇️PLAYLIST BASED ON FIC⬇️

[mimisempai]

Wait for me on the other side 7/8

Summary:

Will we attend the long awaited meeting?

Notes:

Final stretch before the end... How are you doing?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32948254/chapters/82448716

Loki's apartment - 2021

I WANT TO MEET YOU!

FOR REAL THIS TIME!

Loki turned the drawing over, Mobius had added a few words to it.

Answer me after 6pm, I'll wait by the mailbox.

Loki looked at the clock, it was 5:15 p.m., he took his notepad and his pencil and left in a hurry towards the house on the cliff.

Arriving a few minutes after 6pm, he went to the mailbox, scribbled quickly on his notebook, tore out the page and after putting it in the box, he raised the flag.

It was lowered almost immediately, the start of another conversation punctuated by its movement.

Mobius House - 2019

Mobius was pacing around the box, avoiding looking at his watch every minute, wondering if he had frightened Loki with his request for a date, when the flag suddenly rose.

L -How?

M -Pick a place. I will be there. I promise. Tomorrow, what do you say?

L -Mobius. It's not tomorrow for you. You'll have to wait two years.

M -I don't care. I'll wait. Meet me at the restaurant tomorrow and I'll be there. I'll be two years older, but I'll be there.

L -What will you be doing all that time?

M -Think about you. And working out every day, getting in shape, praying I don't lose my hair...

L -Are you sure?

M -I've never been so sure of anything in my life. I've already lost so much time. I don't want to waste any more with you.

Loki suddenly felt almost dizzy. Mobius had two years to prepare for this appointment while Loki had less than twenty-four hours. He took a deep breath before closing the mailbox.

L - See you in two years, then.

M - See you tomorrow night. Where would you like to go?

Frigga  restaurant - 2019

Mobius entered the restaurant and was greeted by the hostess.

"Hi, I'd like to reserve a table for two."

She flipped through the reservation book before telling him in an apologetic tone, "Well, I'm sorry, but we just received our fourth star and I'm afraid it's extremely difficult to get a reservation at this hour. When did you expect to dine here?"

Mobius replied with a smile, "Two years from tomorrow. September 15, 2021."

The hostess blinked a few times and then closed the book, before answering with a big smile, "We should be able to accommodate you, sir."

Loki's apartment - September 15, 2021 - Morning

Loki prepared to leave for work. He looked at the outfit he prepared for that evening. He couldn't remember when he hadn't felt such excitement. He couldn't remember ever feeling this excited.

September High School - September 15, 2021 - 5pm

As he packed up his things after having finished his last class of the day, and was already looking forward to the evening ahead, he was jolted out of his reverie by Thor's stormy arrival in his office.

"Thank God you're still here."

"Obviously." replied Loki, pointing out with irony.

"I'm sorry, I know it's not your week, but can you do a detention watch for an hour? Jane is visiting between flights and I was supposed to monitor tonight's detention, but-"

Loki looked at his watch and sighed, "Yes, I can, but one hour not more. I have a date."

"Thank you, thank you! I promise, it's just an hour, no more. But I want to hear all about this date tomorrow, okay?"

Loki shook his head and chuckled, "Alright, alright, go meet Jane!"

Before leaving, Thor threw over his shoulder, "I don't know who that is, but I've never seen you smile like that before, Loki, and it suits you! Bye!"

He was gone before Loki had time to answer.

An hour later, Loki was walking quickly towards his apartment. He entered in a hurry, ran into the room and threw off his clothes.

Croki followed him around, curious, as Loki muttered, "He waited two years. What's another half hour? Right?"

He continued his preparations, but at a calmer pace. He put on a dark green v-neck sweater, of a shade that he knew brought out his eyes, at least that's what the saleswoman had told him, a pair of charcoal-colored pants that highlighted his silhouette. He looked at himself two or three times in the mirror before shrugging his shoulders.

A few minutes later, he left his building and took a cab to the restaurant.

Frigga Restaurant - September 2021

Loki stopped before entering. He inhaled several times to calm himself. He was ready, excited but confident. He opened the door with a firm hand.

While removing his coat, he scanned the room. There are not many tables. Before he could find Mobius, the hostess approached him.

"Good evening sir, can I help you?"

Loki cleared his throat, "Yes, I have a reservation. Laufeyson. Or Mobius, I'm not sure what name it was made under."

The hostess examined her book and looked up with a huge smile, "Oh yes! You're the..." she paused before pulling herself together, "Follow me."

Loki was led to a table for two. It was empty. He was a little surprised.

The hostess turned to him and said, a little embarrassed, "I hope you'll forgive me, but I can't help asking..."

"Yes?"

"This reservation is sort of... legendary. It's been here longer than most employees. There's always been intense speculation about who made it, and why, and whether you were really going to show up. Some of the team members even made bets..."

Loki looked around. Throughout the room, waiters were glaring at him. The chefs and kitchen helpers were looking out the kitchen door. Loki suddenly felt very embarrassed.

The hostess immediately apologized, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have... I'll send the waiter to get your drink order right away."

A little later a waiter returned and poured Loki a glass of champagne.

"Compliments of the chef."

Loki nodded in thanks.

Just before leaving, the waiter threw him a small smile, "Good luck."

Loki began to sip the champagne, a little more nervous.

Some time later, his glass was empty and he was still waiting, alone at the table. The waiter approached to refill his glass, but Loki stopped him.

He was aware that the restaurant staff was watching him, whispering among themselves. Two hours passed, other customers lingered over dessert, coffee, chatting intimately at the candlelit tables.

Loki was still alone.

After a long moment, he pushed back his chair and stood up. Everyone was looking at him, gravely.

He walked to the front, expressionless, and took his coat, without speaking to anyone before leaving under the sad look of the hostess watching him leave. Loki returned home, alone. His stoic facade began to crumble. He had tears in his eyes.

He took a paper and wanted to write but didn't have the heart. Not now.

House on the cliff - September 16, 2019

The day was gray and windy, Mobius stood in front of his mailbox and read the words "YOU WEREN'T THERE." He shook his head, lost.

M - I'm really sorry. I don't understand. Something must have happened. Look, I have two years. I'll try to fix it.

L -No, Mobius... You don't understand. It's too late. It's already happened.

I'm not upset. I mean, I was at first.

But now I just feel stupid... that I forgot how much a person's life can change in two years.

And for expecting yours not to change.

For expecting you to wait, to stand still, to put your life on hold, for me.

M - But I can do it. I can wait for you. I know I can. I won't forget.

L -Maybe you did. Maybe, wherever you are, you are busy, happy, and living so fully in the present that the dinner you planned two years ago just... slipped your mind. Just like you forget about impossible fantasies when they're over, when you get on with real life.

M - You mean I should go on with my real life?

L- I mean... I think we both should.

After seeing his words, Mobius hurried to answer, his hand trembling with emotion.

Please write to me, answer me.

Mobius put his letter in the mailbox and raised the flag. It stayed up.

An hour later, the flag was still up, Mobius opened the mailbox, there was only the note he had put in.

Hours, then days, then months passed, as Mobius wrote and posted letter after letter. Finally, there was a stack of his letters in the box. They continued to pile up, unanswered. Until the box was so full that Mobius could not put any more letters in.

Bi-Frost Bar - Février 2022

It was winter, everything outside was covered in snow.

Loki was sitting at a table with Bruce, Thor, Heimdall and Carol.

They were now meeting here at least once a week after work.

As Bruce and Carol debated some obscure point of astronomy, mediated by Heimdall, Thor leaned toward Loki and put his hand on his arm.

"Are you okay?"

Loki gave a half-smile and answered honestly because Thor was one of the few people who could read him, "I've been better."

"Are you still writing to your mysterious pen pal."

Loki, his throat tight, could not answer and shook his head.

Thor simply said, without insisting, "I'm sorry, Loki, if you need to talk, you know my phone number."

Loki did not answer.

Later, as he returned home, he found a message on his answering machine.

"Hi, Lo. It's Sigyn. I'm in town. I had to come in for a meeting."

Loki started to press the button to delete the message, when Sigyn's voice continued, "A real one this time. I swear to you. Call me. Only if you feel like it."

The next evening Loki and Sigyn were sitting in the pizzeria where they had met before. Neither of them really felt comfortable.

Sigyn said quietly, "I didn't think you'd come out."

Loki replied wryly, "Don't take this personally but..."

Sigyn interrupted him, "You couldn't say no to the free meal."

"Exactly." they both laughed.

Then Loki asked, "So. How did your ' meeting ' go?"

Sigyn looked slightly offended at the way Loki had emphasized the word meeting.

"I told you I didn't make it up, it really happened. They offered me a job.A bigger firm. I'm going to be in-house counsel." She smiled proudly before continuing, "Call them if you don't believe me."

A little later, they arrived in front of Loki's residence which was on the way to Sigyn's hotel. They stopped at the door.

Sigyn said quietly, "I took this job because I wanted to. This is not an ambush, Lo."

Loki nodded and replied softly, "Well, that's great news.  Congratulations, Sigyn. I'm really happy for you."

Sigyn smiled, "Thank you, and thank you for coming."

Loki leaned over and kissed her goodnight, briefly. Sigyn looked surprised and pleased.

Loki watched her, it was comfortable and familiar, but then his gaze slipped to the tree behind Sigyn. Its leaves swayed in the night air. It was the tree Mobius had planted. Loki looked at it, then closed his eyes and shook his head. "No, I'm sorry Sigyn, but I can't."

After a tearful goodbye, as he walked back up to his apartment, Loki muttered to himself, "I may not be able to meet him, but I can't lie to myself either."

Mobius House - 2020

The mailbox was covered with snow. It was so cold that the lake had frozen over. Mobius, who was walking outside, looked inside the mailbox, by reflex. It was empty. He closed it slowly, disappointment on his face.

Distracted, he didn't notice that Croki was walking away quickly, towards the forest.

Mobius finally looked around.

Croki started to run. Mobius chased him. But soon, in the density of the forest, he did not see him anymore. Mobius ran straight ahead, continuing to call. He tripped on a stump and fell into the snow, he got up and called again, looking around, upset. Croki was really gone.

Mobius was about to run again, when he suddenly stopped. A realization dawned on his face.

Croki was going to find his new owner.

Mobius knew what he had to do.

A few days later, he was talking in the living room with Casey.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

Mobius replied with a wistful look on his face, "Yes, I need to move on, staying here, I won't make it."

Casey nodded, understanding and added simply, "If you need help, you can count on me."

A few weeks later, "Mobius packed the house methodically and with determination. He assembled boxes with tape and threw his things in. He put the trash in bags, swept and mopped.

As he was tidying up, he found the stack of letters from Loki. He looked at them for a moment, then packed them up and shoved them in the bottom of a cardboard box before carrying the box to the attic and sealing it.

Hill & Fury Law Firm - 2020

Mobius checked the address on his phone, walked in, and headed to the front desk.

"Hello, I'd like to speak to Sigyn Iwaldi, I don't have an appointment, but tell her it's Mobius and it's urgent."

A few minutes later, Sigyn arrived in the lobby, and motioned for him to follow her into an adjoining meeting room.  She barely greeted him and did not look happy to see him.

Mobius didn't wait and asked her point-blank, "Do you still want to rent a house by the lake?"

He didn't wait for an answer and tossed her a bunch of keys. Sigyn looked puzzled.

Mobius continued, "That's what Loki wants."

Sigyn looked angry and asked him abruptly, "How can you know that? How can you know what he wants? Besides, we're not even..."

Mobius shook his head, "I don't want to know anything, but trust me this is what he wants."

Mobius waited no longer and stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Later, as Sigyn was opening her car, something caught her eye in the distance. An alligator was slowly strolling down the street, looking lost but heading straight for her. It was Croki.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 (End)

__________

I've said in the last chapter, as a reader I hate cliffhangers. So for you, I've put the turbo on and I'm just saying, stay tuned... you won't have to wait until tomorrow for the last chapter... maybe with only one comment on this chapter, I'll be convinced to publish it even sooner... 😏

[the-firebird69]

There's several things happening when is he's making me very happy because he had this idea so we're able to get ready and he kept saying you encapsulate the city then you walled off and you mow the area and push it off and started working and started to get very happy the other day he didn't know it was going on. They're a giant errors that you Max and Mac tires keep making with us and you don't care but we do and we're going to slaughter you for it if you don't care about getting slaughtered this huge piles of you you they are not clothes they're only about 10% clones now most of them are dead so facilities are all taken or destroyed ripped out and crushed or destroyed because they're contaminated we don't have any time for you anymore such little assholes you don't know you're dying if you did you'd be worse which is terrific no so we have to exterminate you like bugs. The walls performing and we're opening this chasms and it's going to weaken you it already is we cut you off and we're doing this New Vegas stuff and we're doing the wall stuff it's moving very fast we have huge numbers of people helping of ours gigantic hordes and hordes of people signed up they're going into our Thunderdome which are now shatteredome and we're arming them with everything we can Jaegers guns for training we're using demons they're training on demons it's a huge huge thing you've got a massive Force gigantic tanks all sorts of things you never think of there's tons and tons of housing in there too huge amounts of oxygen in the air and yeah there's food there too tons of it the growing tons of it it's a massive massive Army that we've raised it is just huge tons of them want to get out there and bust you up free our people and just staying in time but the wall is working terrific you soon will be moving it again and in his fashion just we're going to pull up new sections and put them in and we're going to advance it it leaves a wall there that way encapsulated what was there and then removing it and then moving it and removing until it's up north pretty soon it will be up there it'll be closing it off and floor is will have to come in the way they should have been coming in so just pushing the idiot at you what's going on all over the world it's only heard about New Vegas and they're heading there cuz I'm check it's going all over the world this huge Buzz about it I'm putting in giant casinos all of them seemed Vegas is getting real upset Dan is so humiliated and embarrassed that he's going to go out there and say take over his father's casino cuz he's dead. Actually show Trump's getting revived in a movie so he wants me to tell him what that is.

It's also affected the letter right now Topeka is within two walls and the letter will move momentarily if not immediately it's getting pulled out of there by corky and his idiots in Utah who want to be women and it's the most vulgar display of vulgarity ever this stupid state is going to be full of fake women we're all corky and it's such a massive living assholes to each other and others that you can recognize who these people are they been doing all sorts of things in the woman's name starting the revolution off getting the rights there's civil rights activists they're like Rosa Parks the actual Rosa Parks it is so disgusting you and not believe it unless you saw it they're mostly massively repulsive losers it's weird as hell it's angry people will kill all of them just to see visit Utah but they want to be there for the will reading and they want to do all some stuff like that so they want to be undercover and they're both getting killed the largest domestic dispute the history of man would be surprised at the max started it but I don't think so they both going in there and killing the idiots

Hera Zues

There's a huge difference between what we're doing what they're doing they're kicking our ass and we're kicking our ass

Mac

[austinstahl]

City Paper is Dead, Long Live City Paper

It's hard to describe, to someone who's never experienced it, the pleasure of being a part of something you'd previously loved from the outside. It's what I imagine it might feel like to be drafted by the team you grew up rooting for.

I'd been reading the Baltimore City Paper since high school in the late ’90s, when I'd pick up a copy on occasional trips into the city, and it was a window into a world of arts and music and general adult freedom that I longed to enter. After I moved to Baltimore for college, it became an indispensable companion to the city I was now exploring, and to a growing music scene that I was attempting to infiltrate. And it was a consistent source of great writing about things I cared about — it seems weird to say now, but at the time, it was not easy to find genuinely good writing on the internet — with great photography and illustration alongside it.

So when, as a newly-minted college grad in 2004, I got invited in for a job interview after an acquaintance had recommended me, it was both exciting and surreal to see where this thing I loved got made. (I believe the only time I ever used the stately front entrance to the offices at 812 Park Ave, a converted Mt Vernon rowhouse mansion, was for that interview; staffers, as I soon learned, customarily slipped in via the back alley.) I had spent the previous several months searching for a “real” graphic design job, and this City Paper position was for a production assistant, so I wasn't entirely sure it was the right move, but it seemed like too much fun to pass up. Even for a measly $12 an hour.

It was. The vibe of the Production department was like being in a class populated entirely by class clowns, on a day where you had a substitute: You knew you'd need to get your work done eventually, but in the meantime a feeling of let's-see-what-we-can-get-away-with anarchy hung over the whole enterprise. We occupied a large room on the second of the building's three floors, appropriately between Editorial (above) and Advertising (below). There, six of us laid out some parts of the paper—whatever wasn't handled directly by Joe, our goofily ebullient art director—and designed a massive number of small ads for local advertisers. (We offered this service for free, and it was like layout boot camp.) Music was usually blaring from a boombox perched on the mantel of what had once been a bedroom fireplace, often controlled by the eclectic tastes of our senior designer Matt. A second sonic layer, made up of constant jokes and banter, floated overtop of and intertwined with the music. Even if the work itself sometimes felt like drudgery, I was never bored.  

On Mondays, we worked a 12-hour shift as final ad approvals came up the stairs from Advertising and final article edits came down the stairs from Editorial, all needing to be placed onto pages. At dinnertime we'd wait anxiously for a call from the basement to tell us the company-provided pizzas had arrived, and then march down past “the morgue,” where nearly thirty years' worth of papers were archived—a weekly reminder that this madcap pursuit had a long history (longer, indeed, than my life to that point).  

I'd gotten a lot of advice in design school about making sure my first job was one where I could keep on learning, and while I'm not sure that CP was quite the type of job these advice-givers had in mind, I was undoubtedly learning plenty: When to push back against bad ideas (no, Mr Advertiser, the fact that the ad we designed for you contains a few slivers of white space does not mean that we can now cram 50% more content in) and when to grin and bear them (usually making private use of my colleague Rebecca's oft-repeated saying: “If that's what you want...”). How to wrangle disparate pieces of content into a coherent whole (it was our job to create “The Map” that determined which content/ads went onto which pages, no small task when we had so many different ad sizes that we used the letters of the alphabet to refer to them). How to keep your cool when the pressure was on and tensions were rising.

And though I didn't fully recognize it at the time, I was beginning to learn that publication design was what I was meant to do; I loved spending my days working alongside people who were putting something of value into the world. As difficult as I found the schedule—after Monday's 12-hour slog, you'd grab some sleep and then head right back for the mad dash of Tuesday morning, sending pages off to the printer—I immediately appreciated too that if a week's work wasn't your best, well, you didn't have to wait long for a chance to do it better.

After a little less than a year, though, I was growing weary of that weekly grind. Adding to my weariness was the peculiar mix of entitlement and insecurity that perhaps only young twentysomethings can feel with the ferocity that I did; I felt that my numerous design talents were not being properly utilized as a mere Production department drone, and simultaneously feared that dronehood was perhaps all I was capable of. It didn't take long for this mixture to curdle into a bad attitude that I evidently didn't hide well—at some point that summer, our production director, Athena, called me down into the alley (the only place one could have a private discussion at 812 Park) to ask if I really wanted to be working there. I admitted, to her and to myself, that I didn't.

(Athena, thank you for putting up with me.)

So I moved on. I only worked at the paper for less than a year, but that time has taken on an outsized importance in the life story I tell myself, looking back with a dozen years' distance. As short as my tenure was, I had the privilege of being a small part of this local institution, this forty-year history of documenting and shaping the social and cultural life of my city. There's a pride in that, which I expect will never go away.

City Paper itself, of course, has now gone away, killed by its parent company earlier this month. Count me among those who felt the paper had experienced a sharp decline in quality and consistency in recent years, though to be fair, at least some of that must have been due to rapidly shrinking resources. Certainly they were still capable of great heights: their dispatches from the summer's Baltimore Ceasefire and their longform deep dive into sexual harassment and abuse in the arts scene, to name two from the final few months, were engrossing and important pieces. These are the kind of community-serving features that they seem ready to continue in new form over at the Baltimore Beat, which launched this week under the leadership of some recent CP vets. I look forward to following it.

City Paper's demise has been framed widely as a symptom of the 21st-century media landscape, where the internet has killed print advertising so thoroughly that no free print media can survive, but apparently CP was still profitable—just not profitable enough for the corporation that chose to end it. The narrative that it really fits into is the one where more and more independent media entities, print and digital alike, are bought up by the rich and powerful and don't always survive the whims of their new patrons.

I still have a copy of the first issue of City Paper I worked on, from October 20, 2004. It contains 136 pages (compare this to the final issue's 40) and lists fifty-one employees on the masthead, not counting contributors or distribution. (Baltimore Beat's full-time roster, reportedly: five.) So, yeah, independent media in 2017 is leaner in more ways than one. But I think it can still be a force, a beacon to draw kids like me to cities like ours, and a vital resource for those who are already here. Even if there are fewer opportunities to be drafted by the home team, I have to believe that there are new teams to start, new games to invent that we haven't yet dreamt of.