#*chucks this in the general direction of people and runs*

[lilacgaby]

lucky me.

prohero!kirishima x reader

you always seemed to attract bad luck, yet you think your life might be turning around as you reconnect with light itself.

today was going horrible, just like every other day.

because of your quirk, luck, everyone's luck around you would be exponentially boosted. everyone, even the people who you hated would be lucky if they were within a 20-mile radius of you. you couldn't control it.

every single lottery won has been because someone was close to you, paychecks would come early, coins would always flip on heads, everyone in your class would always pass exams.. you get the deal.

the drawback? you'd have horrible luck your entire life.

as a kid, you'd trip and scrape your knees everyday. under pressure your voice would crack, or the tears you'd been attempting to hide would come out bursting, making you shake as you tried to speak.

the swings you'd use would snap, the slides would always burn you. your shoelaces would untie and make you fall. you'd always fall flat on your nose and have your nose bleed at the worse times. the only refuge from this? eijiro, who never seemed to mind. he'd call you brave for still doing those things despite knowing you'd get hurt.

he admired you, developing rose-tinted glasses for all things surrounding you over the years. in junior high, he'd hang around you still. he was a bit shy himself at this age, but he never failed to help you.. even as you tripped into a garbage can for the third time this week.

you hung out constantly, you were always at his home and his two mothers adored you. always up in his room as he tried to sing, as he fanboyed over crimson riot with you. you were even the one who dyed his hair, much to his mother's disdain.

you were there when he got accepted into U-A, he hugged you, calling you his good luck charm.

but after that, it seemed life had finally had to take the one good thing in your life away from you. obviously, you couldn't attend U-A, you had slept in the day general studies took their entrance exams, so you ended up in some run of the mill high school that didn't specialize in anything in particular.

eijiro was born a star, you knew it was pointless to love someone like that. someone who was destined for something more than you can dream of.

so you let your friendship die. as his messages to you came fewer and fewer, you let the memories of the good times he'd bring to you be the only remnants of your relationship, so that you could let him fly like he deserved.

after a quirk consultation way too late in your life, you managed to decrease your bad luck by 50%. it made all the difference in your life, allowing you to be in the middle top of your class, and let you get a job as a quirk consultant yourself.

you worked your way up for years, finally getting your bad luck down to 22%, just low enough to start your own consultant company that focused on quirks that would harm the users and cause prejudice against them.

everything was finally good. you were finally happy.

until red riot came crashing through the windows of your front door, the fight entering the office that was thankfully closed since it was a sunday.

"hey! what the hell?!"

"sorry 'bout that! watch out!"

there was a slab being chucked in your direction, just as it was about to hit.. red riot blocked it with a bit of hardening from his quirk. his face was colored with recognition as he saw you, but first,

"[name]?? wait, let me beat this guy first-"

"don't do it in my office!"

"too late for that--"

the villain, a sledgehammer.. man(?), had started removing huge pieces of cement from the inner workings of your wall. before he could get to attacking, your luck started to go to work. because of your consultations, you could now choose who your luck would effect,

but it'd bring your bad luck back to 100%.

eijiro, now unbreakable, easily beat the guy. he carried him out to the streets full of police that took him into custody.

he went back to normal, looking back at you. you were reeling, looking at the months worth of damage done. he went up to place a hand on your shoulder.

"i-im real sorry [name]. but hey, at least i got to see you right?"

"my company is destroyed."

"y-yeah, but hey! could be worse! you could be uh-- dead or something."

you sighed at that. "i guess you're right.. thanks red ri--"

"eijiro." he corrected, adamant as he held you by the shoulders.

"eijiro. thank you for saving my life.. even if my place is wrecked. and my favorite elephant pot too.." he looked genuinely distraught at not having been able to see the pot. "hey, i have an idea to get cheered up!"

she looked hopeful, wanting a moment away from the legal mess she'd have to go through to request funds to rebuild her place. "what is it?"

- - -

so he invited you on a date. can you blame him? you looked even more beautiful than he remembered.

he had the biggest crush on you since junior high. he just thought you were the cutest thing, you were so nice, so sweet to him. everytime you did everything his heart would leap out of his chest.

and this rang true at the date he organized at his new house: a large mansion, decked out in a classier version of his favorite 'manly' style of furniture, with the help of an interior designer of course.

he let you inside, he was letting you sleep in one of his spare rooms since your apartment that was on the second floor of your office was now deemed unsafe.

he had a small, yet probably more expensive than your house itself, dinner prepared for you two.

there were more dishes set out on the table than you think you've had your entire life. as you two caught up, laughed, and slowly became more comfortable like you used to be, he felt his heart soar.

you noticed your bad luck was dropping even faster than it would normally in his presence. it had already become 21% from 100%.

it took you a year to get it that low the first time. you looked at the ceiling thoughtfully, being pulled out of your thoughts by eijiro's joke flexing.

he brought out the final meal. as you two shared a comically huge piece of cake, you laughed at the realization.

he was your good luck charm, as much as your were his.

[hollowtones]

ayy monhun fan! what are you thinkin of what we've seen of wilds so far?

The initial trailer they dropped months ago was pretty cool. "World" is my least favourite game that I've played (even thought I liked it a lot!!), and 90% of why I felt that way was "this is the first time they're making a game of this scale / scope / direction", so it's exciting to see them make a successor to it now that they're not also learning how to make a game like it from the bottom-up & not also building the tech side of it from scratch.

Big desert environments have me excited!!!! I love the way these games do deserts. I'm always dreaming of Val Habar. I love the colour palette they're using for this area. Big fan of Yoshi being a new mechanic. In general I'm noticing a lot of things in "Wilds" that feel like a really cool mix of ideas from "World" and "Rise" in a way that feels a little more grounded. It's cool that they're bringing back a buddy you can ride around on & control. I wonder if they'll let Yoshi fight with you. I don't remember if they showed that off already. Getting to hotswap between 2 weapons without having to run back to base camp feels like a big deal that I haven't really wrapped my head around yet.

The focus mode thing seems fine. More granular control over aiming sometimes seems neat, & the footage we've seen makes it feel like positioning & animation commitment are still a part of it, which I like. Expanding part-breaking into "opening wounds that take more damage & enable special attacks" seems cool! (There was a similar-ish tenderizing mechanic with the Clutch Claw in "Iceborne", and I fuckin hated using it. Loved the idea of it at first. Having to do this whole separate action that interrupted the flow of the fight in a weird way to enable more damage felt awful after a while!! And they designed all the fights around the fact that you have it & use it! So I'm glad they're seemingly taking what I liked about it & chucking out the rest, haha.) I remember there was some hubbub about focus existing at all when news was first dropping. Some people were mad about it? I feel like this happens every time they announce a new Monster Hunter. They reveal a new feature, and a couple guys crawl out of the woodwork to go "THEY HAVE MADE THE VIDEO GAME PITIFUL AND EASIER - THIS IS THE DEATH OF THE FRANCHISE!" The franchise has died every game since the first one, by my count. (They end up buying the game anyway, of course.) I hope they put out a demo soon, though. I wanna get my hands on it & see how it works in the middle of a fight to see how I actually feel about it.

Weapon & armour design so far has been great. Happy about that. The bits of NPC designs we've seen have been cool. I don't really like the smith's look very much. Which makes me sad because I'm pretty sure she's supposed to be Little Miss Forge. LOL

When they first showed the game off I remember thinking "yeah, that's cool, I'm looking forward to this, but it's coming out Next Year & we're not even halfway done with 2024." Well now we're almost two thirds of the way through the year. And they keep dropping gameplay trailers. And they look hype as fuck!! And now I'm feeling more impatient!!! I wanna try this shit out soon!!! I wonder if they'll drop a public demo after Gamescom or something. I wonder if my computer could even run it...

I liked the way Hunting Horn played in "Rise" but it's cool to see the more traditional recitals back. (But faster!! And with new combo paths!!) I think I've spent a cumulative hour or two watching that horn trailer over and over again for little details. The funny bubble reminds me of bead of resonance but it seems like it might also be some kind of AoE team buff? It could also just be extra damage like bead was. But I loved bead. So I'll take it. Being a Hunting Horn fan is accepting that you'll be playing an entirely different weapon in every subsequent game, so I suppose I fuss less about whether or not it plays like any one specific game. But mannnnnn it looks cool as hell this time around.

[hannahbarberra162]

Can't Fix Fix A Broken Heart - Chapter 5

Now on Ao3

Chapter 4 Chapter 6

Chapter 5 - New Beginnings With Newgate

18+, MDNI.

I realized “Moby Jr” is not canonically in OP. It's from “Oh, Sweet Child of Mine” by mamamittens on Ao3. That story got me down the OP yandere rabbit hole in general. I’m not caught up with current OP yet so sometimes I get things wrong. Please feel free to correct me.

Also, there will be more smut eventually. Just not quite yet. We’re sailing in the right direction. 

You walked down the road robotically, not thinking about where you were walking. You had said your teary eyed goodbye to the Brothers - you really would miss them. Walking, you were flanked by the four men, who were slowing down to match your shorter stride. Ace was holding your things at his insistence. You didn’t feel like talking and they weren’t asking you anything. You were already tired and wanted to nap - you didn’t have much stamina. You’d run through a gamut of emotions and fixed all those tables. Normally the fixing alone would have you snoozing. But you had a feeling there wouldn’t be a chance to sleep for a while to come. After all, it was only early afternoon. 

“Cariña, would you like me to carry you? You look like you could use a rest,” offered Thatch. You blushed a little. Carry you? Like a baby? Were you that pathetic? You still had enough pride to walk even if the offer was a little tempting. 

“Ah, no? Thank you though? We’re almost at the wharf,” you said, pointing down the road. And indeed you were - you saw the Moby Jr. gently bobbing on the water. Once the cobblestones of the street ended and the boardwalk to the docks began, your hands started to shake. It was just a lot. You couldn’t even separate all your feelings of sorrow, loss, nervousness and trepidation from one another. 

Vista, Thatch, and Ace all continued walking while Marco stopped you for a moment. He put his hand on your shoulder and turned you towards him. You looked up at him, feeling unsure and weak. He chucked your chin with one large index finger. “Chin up, it will be OK yoi. You’ll be among friends. Oyaji is intense but he means well.” You nodded silently. You weren’t sure about friends but it did make you feel better that you already were acquainted with a few crew members.

Marco moved his hand to your shoulder and you saw some blue flames leave his arm for yours. You screeched in surprise - was the fire going to burn you? Marco looked down and only smiled, keeping his arm where it was. “Don’t worry, those are just small healing flames from the Phoenix. I forget to control them some of the time.” He tilted his head and asked “are you injured somewhere? They don’t appear indiscriminately. I’ll check you out when we get back to the main ship.”

“O-oh, that won’t be necessary, I’m completely fine,” you said nervously shifting your shoulders under his arm. Marco hummed but didn’t say anything else.

Everything blurred together as you set sail on the Moby Jr. Since the visit to your island was for supplies and partying, you weren’t far from the Moby Dick itself. You felt your eyelids drooping - the afternoon sun was so warm and the sea air so pleasant. You had forgotten that being aboard a ship could be relaxing. You knew you were at your limit and needed to rest. You had a hard time sleeping in front of other people - let alone people you didn’t know that well. And the boat was rather small - it would be hard to find a spot where you felt secure enough and out of the way enough to actually sleep. You poked around a little bit and decided to rest between two of the supply crates they were bringing back. Just a quick little refresher and you’d be all set…

You didn’t know how much time had passed before you heard footsteps stop in front of you. You immediately woke up with a start, in full fight or flight mode. You had always been a light sleeper but now were attuned to any noise approaching you when you were sleeping. Marco was crouched in front of you, giving you a relaxed smile. 

“We’re here yoi. Let’s not keep everyone waiting,” he said while ruffling your hair. You took a deep breath and got up, stretching your legs.

You two were the last ones on the boat and you followed Marco to the deck. The Moby Dick was…immense. You had never seen anything like it. It made the Marine ship you had been on look like a skiff. Marco was waiting next to a rope and wood slatted ladder, motioning for you to climb first. You went up to the ladder, frowned slightly, and made the hand gesture for Fix Fix. Only then did you start to climb the ladder.

“I didn’t think the ladder was broken yoi,” Marco said conversationally while you two were climbing.

“It wasn’t yet. But the rope was deteriorating between the second and third rungs of the ladder. It’s been in use for a while and was getting worn down.”

“But if it wasn’t broken, how did you fix it?”

“Oh, um. I can sense when things need fixing, even if they haven’t completely broken yet. I prefer to fix things before they actually break if I can. Like, I can tell that the screw in the left arm of your glasses is stripped and may fall out soon. It’s an awareness I can tune into. It's really not that interesting. And, um, I can also fix your glasses when we get to the top. If you want.”

Marco laughed and said “Thank you. Such a sweet offer.” Suddenly, he let go of the ladder completely and fell as if in a dive. But before you could blink, he was rising above you in his Pheonix form. You could do nothing but stare. It was absolutely breathtaking. He was the most amazing creature you’d ever seen - or would see -in your life. The rippling blue feathery flames, his golden accents, the elegant way his body soared through the air…He was utterly and completely magnificent. You wanted to watch him fly for hours and you knew you’d still want to see more. He stretched his mighty talons as he flew by. You saw their razor sharp edges and cringed at the thought of being at the wrong end of those weapons.

He landed at the top of the ship, partially transformed himself, and offered you a hand to come over the side of the ship. You were still watching his resplendent form and took his hand. He then changed back completely into a man and said simply “Welcome home.”

You wanted to talk to him about his Phoenix form, but it was hard to focus on any one thing when you were finally aboard the Moby Dick. People were milling about, working, people were calling and waving to Marco, Thatch was already drinking and laughing with Ace…there were so many people moving around, so many things to look at, and your devil fruit was calling for you to fix a million different things. And everything was so…large. You felt like you were a kid again, sitting at a chair that was too big for you and swinging your feet. You didn’t have much time to ponder, because Marco once again put his arm over your shoulders really, a simple tap on the shoulder would do and said “c’mon. Oyaji wants to meet you.”

Marco POV

When you looked up at him at the wharf with your big sad eyes, he almost scooped you into his arms up right there. You needed someone looking after you, and he was ready for a new project. You were like a little wounded bird he could nurse back to health. And just like a wounded bird, once he earned your trust and healed you, you’d be thankful and loyal to him. 

When he saw you tucked away, sleeping on the boat? Oh, the things he’d wanted to do to you. You looked so innocent and serene - and calm for once. He loved seeing you at peace, but it brought other thoughts to mind. How would you react to waking up with his head between your luscious thighs, holding them apart, licking and nibbling as a good morning surprise? Would you mewl quietly like a little kitten or would you be loudly moaning his name as you came on his tongue? Would you taste as delicious as you smelled? He knew he’d find out eventually. 

He loved how awe struck you looked when you first saw his Pheonix form. Like he was a God come to life. He didn’t feel bad about pulling out all the stops, he knew the kind of impression his Phoenix gave. He wanted you to see how powerful he was and yes, maybe to intimidate you a little bit. A healthy dose of fear might help you remember that might makes right on the seas, and you needed someone like him.

He knew he and the others were touching you a lot and that you didn’t like it. It did break his heart a little to see you flinch every time anyone came near you. But touching you was the first step of making you comfortable with their attention. And he needed you to be very comfortable for the kind of attention he was going to give you.

Y/N POV

Obviously, this was Whitebeard’s ship. You knew that. It wasn’t a surprise. But you just didn’t think through the idea that you would have to actually meet Whitebeard himself. Marco calmly walked you towards the rear of the deck. You were nervous, naturally. You were meeting a Yonko and requesting to be let on his ship, who wouldn’t be? You saw a dais surrounded by nurses wearing pink uniforms…and thigh high leopard boots. They were fussing over the largest man you had ever seen, who was sitting nonchalantly on a regal looking armchair. He was powerful even at rest. You wanted to stop moving closer but Marco still had an arm over your shoulders, so you were propelled along with him.

“Marco, welcome back my son,” boomed Whitebeard. “I hear we have a new child coming on board.” Whitebeard turned his attention to you - it felt like being in the center of a hundred flame dials. You started fidgeting, and Marco patted your shoulder with the hand that was already there. You briefly turned your head to the side and saw that other people had started watching the conversation from the sidelines - making you feel like you were being watched in an arena. It seemed news traveled fast on the ship.

“Thank you Oyaji. We found someone in need of assistance working with Vista’s brothers. She just got her first bounty.”

“GRARARARARA, what did you do, child? Congratulations” laughed Whitebeard.

Still fidgeting - pinching your fingers, you answered “I, um, didn’t do anything. They said I was part of a pirate crew but I’m not. I think they just want me back. I didn’t do anything, um, bad.”

“Well, there’s always time to change that,” Whitebeard remarked with a smile. Even though he was large enough to squish you like a bug, he gave you a warm feeling. You felt comfortable speaking to him, even in front of the growing crowd.

“What’s your name, child?”

“Y/N”

Marco added “she’s also a devil fruit user. She has the Fix Fix fruit. Maybe could help us out if we ask her nicely.”

“Is that so, child?” Whitebeard said to you with an indulgent smile.

“Ah, yes,” you said, gaining a little bit of confidence. “I can fix almost anything. I’ve worked on ships before so I’m familiar with the kind of repairs they usually need. But I’ve never been on a ship like this,” you said gesturing in a motion indicating the ship as a whole. 

“GRARARARARARA no one has, child. Welcome aboard.” He tossed his head towards the nurses. “Tate can show you where the women’s quarters are. Settle in, and we’ll celebrate gaining another sibling.”

The crew raised their voices in a raucous cheer, which startled you. You had been focusing so much attention on your interaction with Whitebeard you had almost forgotten they were there.

You were astonished at Whitebeard's words - new sibling? You didn’t know that you were going to stay here on board! Did that mean you were in the crew? Or just that you were allowed to stay? Your head was spinning and you didn’t know what to say, so you said the first thing that popped into your mind.

“Um, thank you Captain Whitebeard. Would you like me to fix your chair?” 

You heard Whitebeard laugh again as Marco took his arm off your shoulders and sauntered over to Whitebeard. They started talking in low tones, with Whitebeard laughing intermittently. Tate stepped down off the dais and approached you with a broad smile.

“It’s nice to have another woman on board, Y/N! I'm Tate, the chief nurse on board. Come along with me, I’ll show you where to put your belongings. And as long as we’re going that way, we might as well give you your introductory physical.”

“Physical? Like, a doctor’s visit?”

“Oh yes. Everyone gets one when they first join. It’s standard practice. And you’ve already met the doctor, Marco.”

You gulped - this was not something you had anticipated.

[morskisir]

The public is VERY interested in your Sniper thoughts. Please, I need them. Phobias? Eating habits? Can he dance? *Should* he? Is he aware when he makes direct eye contact he looks scary af? Is he good at poker or does he not even play?

You are one of my strongest followers o7 THANK YOU FOR THE QUESTIONS!!! I will answer them all individually below.

Phobias?

If we're talking about proper phobias and not fears in general, then he doesn't really have any? UNLESS you count social phobia, which, yeah, he's got that. (I would like to clarify social phobia and social anxiety disorder are different things but he's got both of them, so.)

Social phobia is like, specific social situations that will continuously bring you anxiety/fear. The shit that will have him shaking every single time is a person genuinely trying to get to know him. Even a simple question such as "What's your favourite colour?" could set him off into a state of anxiousness. He LOATHES conversations like that, he wants to be left alone, he's not anyone you should pay attention to, he's not interested in doing this, go away. His fear of being known past the point of "professional assassin" is deep and greatly impacts his life. What the fuck are social relationships am I right?

Another social situation would be: phone calls! You can imagine how nice it is for him to only be able to call his parents when he isn't visiting them at their home in Oz. <3 It's the fear of I cannot see this person and I don't know how they're really reacting to this. He already isn't the best at reading people's faces, phone calls are just another level of hell.

2. Eating habits?

MEAT. MEEEAAAAT- if he could get away with only eating meat the rest of his life he fucking would. Alas, meat doesn't give your body all of the fuel it needs. Heartbreaking. (Not for me I dislike meat sdgkhdskg)

He will still insist on having meat in every fucking meal, and do not, do NOT make a steak that isn't at least a little bit raw. This guy's an animal. Give him his blue steak or he'll think your cooking is shit.

Anyways, I wouldn't say he eats a lot. He eats enough, I guess. Cunt's just running on a lot of coffee + a couple of cigarettes. He's more addicted to caffeine than tobacco.

3. Can he dance?

No. I don't know if Australian schools did this, let alone in his time, but if they did: he would skip every single P.E. class where they would do dancing instead of just chucking some ball around. He is SCARED he doesn't want to be in such close proximity with someone else hksdgkj (except Spy) (who said that) He doesn't have interest in learning how to dance, either. If he's drunk and you somehow get him to dance you'll see a horrible, non-existent dance move.

4. Should he?

No. Spy would beg to differ.

5. Is he aware when he makes direct eye contact he looks scary as fuck?

Yes and no. When he stares at someone on purpose to scare them away- it works! It's reliable! He's aware of the power that stare holds! He just doesn't realise he kind of always looks like that. The Stare(tm) is simply even more intense. There is a great darkness in his eyes........... /ref

6. Is he good at poker or does he not even play?

He can play it! He's only really decent at it- it's not his thing. Only really learned how to play it through peer pressure. (there is lore to this, but uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh)

Scout begs Sniper to play with him and he very begrudgingly accepts because no one else does hdsghj. He is very bored and would rather read his tracking books, but he cannot escape the ADHD. (You call out the smallest act of sympathy he just did and he'll beat the shit out of you)

^ Scout when he wants to play poker

[1ivinqdeadqir1]

Tear You Apart

Chapter 1: Paranoid

Daryl Dixon x Reader

A/N: soooo as you can probably tell I’ve been watching the walking dead… and I’m almost finished now and I’ve fallen madly in love with Norman. This fic is gonna be a series and slow burn romance and Daryl isn’t in this chapter but will be in the next !!

Era: Prison Era onwards (Pre-Woodbury Fall)

Warnings: allusion to death of loved ones, murder, typical TWD stuff

Word Count: 5k

Masterlist: here

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

You had taken a large step over a display case of alcohol- the bottles now smashed, littering the ground with glass shards. It looked as though someone had thrown it down in a hurry, like they were looking for something hidden behind. Maybe they’d been running from the dead and took the case down with them on the way. You tried not to focus on the mess, and instead, your eyes flickered around the room, which felt much smaller because of the clutter and boarded-up windows. Eventually, your eyes landed on a medicine cabinet by the cash register.

A quick, sharp pain charred into your skin with each breath, so you took them slowly, and they shook against your lips as you inspected the shelves. There were a few brightly coloured protein bars in the road trip aisle so you quickly shoved them into your pockets. Your slouchy cargo pants were already packed full of your belongings- a box of ammo for your gun, your flip-knife and some bandages… a notebook and pen- and even a watch you managed to keep working that told you the date and time. It had been a gift before everything happened, and something your friend had given you on your birthday.

When you reached the cabinet, you shuffled around the boxes in search of some over-the-counter antibiotics. There were a few boxes of menstruation relief medication, so you shoved those into your pockets before throwing your backpack over your shoulder and onto the ground alongside the metal bow you'd been lugging with your sheath and arrows.

At the beginning, when the virus started spreading, the first thing you did was go and pick up as many survivalist books as you could find. You figured not a lot of people would think of that when panic buying. In the books you learned how to make toothpaste, soap and even string your own arrows. The few people you’d grouped with didn’t think it was necessary, but you deemed it more than so and found yourself using the knowledge you’d gained studying those books like gospel during your time spent alone- away from any kind of civilization.

Your free arm swept the boxes from the shelf into your napsack. Now hunched over at this level, you noticed some tubes of antiseptic cream and chucked them in alongside the boxes of pain medication. You struggled to fit it all in alongside your homemade toiletries- but eventually managed and went back to looking at the assortments the store still had.

Then, there was a crunch from the shattered glass and you raised your bow, arrow already equipped- it was second nature at this point yet still the sudden movement had your teeth gritting together so hard you thought you might break a filling.

“One wrong move and I’ll cut you in half”

Your eyes were met with those of a woman and man. She looked to be a few years older whereas he was maybe a year or two younger. Her eyes were dark and focused, her locks fell past her rich mahogany shoulders and down her back. The man looked at you with bright, wide brown eyes. His hair was a short, black mess on his head. He was wearing a navy button shirt rolled up to his elbows. And you noticed he had reached for the gun on his hip but hesitated.

“We aren’t gonna hurt you.”

The man spoke first, holding up his hands as you kept your arrow pointed in their general direction- eyes flickering to the woman beside him. Her cold stare seemed to soften, having now taken you in properly. Your shoulder was wrapped in dirt-covered bandages that needed changing to avoid a gnarly infection, and your skin caked in filth and dried blood. Your clothes were just as bad, the bottoms of your pants were saturated with dirty water and your leather boots scuffed and plastered with dried mud.

“My name’s Glenn Rhee… This is Michonne,” he slowly referred to the woman holding the katana with his right hand. She shuffled on her feet as you swallowed and pursed your lips together- trying to ignore the stabbing sensation in your side. You glared them both down, fighting back tears that threatened to spill from your eyes as they looked at you like you were a small child who needed saving. The man - Glenn - spoke again.

“Are you out here all by yourself?”

Chewing the inside of your cheek, your knuckles white- the metal frame leaving a curved indent in your palm.

“As Glenn said, we aren't going to hurt you.” the woman - Michonne - added.

“He won’t, but doesn't…” you paused, feeling the sharp pain in your ribs again. “How can I be sure you won’t skewer me with that Katana?”

Glenn looked over with pleading eyes, his lips sewn shut in a straight line. As though communicating telepathically, she sheathed her weapon - yet still rested her hand on the tip of the handle. You couldn’t blame her for that.

“So,” she began again, “are you alone?”

You nodded.

It was then Glenn’s turn to speak. “You’ve been alone this entire time?- I mean, you’re far from home. It doesn’t sound like you’re from Georgia, let alone the states.”

You slowly lowered the bow yet kept the end of the arrow between your fingers and the handle- pointing it at the ground with less force as you had been a moment prior. “I was with a group, we were ambushed. There weren’t many of us; we couldn’t hold them off.”

You watched as Glenn regarded you with an empathy that many people seemed to resonate with nowadays. He didn't press any further about the group; from the look in your eyes, he could sense the wound was still fresh.

“So, you moved to the States before everything?” Michonne was the next to ask; from the looks of it, she seemed to have calmed down compared to how she had been.

“Yeah, I was a tattoo artist.”

She nodded and looked to Glenn, who looked back with the same blank expression you couldn’t read.

“You have a name?” Glenn said, his hands now planted on his hips. You were suddenly aware of how filthy you looked compared to the pair. They must have come from somewhere with running water.

“y/n, y/n l/n”

“y/n, how many walkers have you killed?”

Puzzled, you raised a brow weakly, gripping the handle as though it had become fused to your flesh and bone. “I don’t… never thought to count, if I were to guess… about… upwards of 80.”

“How many people have you killed?” he asked that question with just as much conviction as the last. Michonne's gloved hands had now dropped to her sides as she peered down at your pile of belongings and the stray medicine boxes scattered at your feet.

“I… right now? two”

“Why?”

Biting your lip, you thought back to your friend. “The first tried to kill me, and the second killed my best friend, One I had known before this and after.” You fought back tears again, stroking your thumb across the metal frame. You had already cried so much - from the pain of your injuries and losing him - that there were now narrow streams of clean skin that went from your waterline to the curve of your chin. The rivers that had run down your cheeks starkly contrasted the mask of dirt, blood and sweat painted on your face.

“I’m sorry”, Michonne said first, “I can’t imagine what you’ve had to go through.”

“Yeah,” you bit back a laugh, throat hoarse, “you really can’t.”

Glenn stepped forward, and you stepped back, which made you wince and hiss at the stabbing pain in your side. “ We come from a group. We’re all survivors- like you- but we managed to find a place where we can have a chance.”

As you listened to the man, you wondered whether this was too good to be true. You had been all alone, both of you. Hunting and gathering, living in dirt and squalor for the better part of 9 months and here was your chance to start afresh with new people. It may have been the hunger, exhaustion, or innate need to survive that forced you to go along with them.

“Wait, there’s something we have to do first before we go.”

‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿

“Finn? It’s safe to come out now, kid”

You called out into a small wooden shed adjacent to a house which looked to have been burned down. Michonne and Glenn stood nearby with their weapons at hand, you could’ve scoffed as you watched them skittishly take in the view.

“We’ve been here for a few weeks, it was like that when we got here.” you kicked a twig by your feet, ignoring the throbbing in your side when a small boy walked out of the shadows with a knife in his grip. He was no less than 6, and his hair was a mess on his head. His skin was smudged with dirt- less than your own but it still looked as though he had been through a lot. Michonne forced a smile and took her hand off her blade. Glenn placed his gun back into his pack.

“Did you get the things?” he asked, pushing the knife back into his pocket. He had his own bag, and it was almost as big as him. Michonne peeked into your makeshift home, the floor was covered with a blanket and there were a few sacks of meat and cans laid out on the workbench. Beneath the bench, there was a sleeping bag atop a roll-out mattress. Then, on the blanket, adjacent to the bench, a sleeping bag without the extra support.

“I got some stuff, not really anything special but…” you ruffled his hair, picking out a stray piece of fluff that’d managed to work its way onto his strands. It’d gotten quite long, and it now brushed his collarbones. Whenever you offered to give it a trim, he refused and said he’d wait until everything went back to normal.

“Who are you?” Finn looked up at Glenn and Michonne, his eyebrows furrowed inwards- his attempt at a scowl.

“I’m Glenn- Is he your-?”

“Nephew” you cut in before asking the young boy to help you pack up your belongings with a smile. He nodded and got to it, only asking you questions about where you were going once you’d both left the pair standing outside.

‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿

It took the four of you two and a half hours to get back to the prison. With having to carry your heavy belongings, Glenn suggested you all take regular breaks- he had noticed your struggle walking for long distances at a time with your injury. It was a journey you wished you wouldn’t have to make again in a similar shape. Finn, on the other hand, was fine and took the walk in his stride. He made idle talk with Glenn and Michonne- asking if there were other kids like him there. There were a few, according to Michonne, and he seemed more than excited to get back once having learned that.

A small boy, around 13 or 14, greeted the three of you at the gate. He was wearing a cowboy hat and a blue flannel shirt that looked as though it were a few sizes too big for him. Finn tried to hold back his nerves, and he opted instead to squeeze your hand. You squeezed his back twice, and looked down at him- smiling. The boy behind the fence opened it and greeted Glenn and Michonne, although he seemed to be struggling to comprehend what you and Finn were doing there.

“Hey Carl, where’s your dad?”

The boy - Carl - pointed toward the prison, a concrete slab of a building that seemed more cold than warm. You almost shuddered at the thought of the winters here, and Michonne seemed to sense your apprehension.

“It’s better inside, it doesn’t look like much, but it’s home for now.”

You nodded, having become quiet on the journey. She deduced that you’d only speak once you had been spoken to. As you started walking toward your new home, a slender brunette with short hair and a wide smile ran to you- to Glenn. She enveloped him in a bone-crushing hug, and when he pulled back, she pressed her lips to his quickly. It was strange how people managed to find love in such desolate times. You couldn’t imagine falling in love before, but now, your fear of impending loneliness and abandonment settled to the back of your mind. Being lonely didn’t seem as bad as losing everyone you loved or got close to. Finn was the only exception these days, you loved that kid like he was your own. He was all you had left- after all.

“Who’s this?”

You snapped up from your thoughts and locked eyes with her. She was still smiling, though you chalked that up to the moment she had just shared with Glenn- her husband - by the looks of the ring on her finger.

“‘Maggie, this is y/n and Finn. We found them out alone in the woods… y/n’s injured, but she’s a tough one, I think, a hunter as well.” Glenn held up the knapsacks you’d crammed in the shed. Finn held your hand a bit tighter

Michonne nodded, “Mmhm, we’re gonna go see if your dad would check her up… then talk to Rick about what to do; he’ll probably wanna talk to her.”

You didn’t mind that they talked about you as though you weren’t there- or that you couldn’t hear every word they were saying - in the shape you were in, you couldn’t engage in a full-blown conversation. The only thing on your mind was the ache in your body and the grinding of your joints upon one another from all the walking you’d been doing.

“Ah, that’s great, well… it’s nice to meet you, y/n. I hope we get to know each other better.. you too, little guy, I love your shirt”

Finn’s cheeks flushed red at the compliment, and he thanked her politely- just as his mother had taught him to. You managed to smile small at how kind she was despite your and Finn’s appearances. Caked in blood and gore, you were still being treated like humans and not a pair of animals being taken to the slaughter.

“Me too.”

Maggie grinned before pecking Glenn on the cheek, exchanging a few fleeting words, and smiling at Michonne. Then, she was off in suit of the guard tower you’d passed on the way up.

‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿

The cellblock was cold, as you’d expected, but it was refreshing in a way that the Georgian summer couldn’t provide on days like this. You’d run into only one other person on the way in, Beth, a young lady who was Maggie’s little sister. She seemed sweet enough, her eyes were kind, and her smile was bright with that whimsical nature teenagers seemed to have at that age- full of hope and wonder for what could come next. Finn seemed to like her too, and he made a passing comment that she reminded him of his primary school teacher.

As the three of you trailed further, you heard a baby crying and shushing from a man with the beginnings of a thick beard growing upon his jaw. A baby, you hadn’t seen a baby since before everything, and even then, it had been almost 7 years since your sister had given birth to Finn. You’d wanted children at one point- when you had a job and a home- a boyfriend and even a pet dog. Thankfully for your sanity, the boyfriend had been gone long before the outbreak, and unfortunately so was the dog.

Ozzy was an old, gentle rescue, one you remember fondly for the years you had spent together. That dog had been your lifeline for a while, your main reason for getting up in the morning for work. Sometimes, when you got anxious, you would trace your fingers across your arm- where a tattoo of his name lay in cursive amongst some of your others. Your fingers brushed across the skin now, drawing his name with the pads of your fingers as you and Finn approached the man and his child.

“Rick, can I talk to you real quick?”

Rick turned to Glenn, still holding the baby. You twitched a little in your spot and shuffled your feet, trying to avoid his cold, blank stare. His brow was furrowed with lines that held years of pain and torment. You swallowed thickly as the slate blue of his eyes glowed in the stream of light that peeked through the high windows of the prison, between the bars and onto the floor.

“Sure. Beth, can you take Judith?”

The young lady, Beth, whom you’d met on the way in, nodded with a smile and took the infant from Rick’s arms. The baby - Judith - looked only a few months old. Maybe a few weeks, if you were to guess. Rick walked over to you, Finn and Glenn. Michonne had left on the way up, saying she wanted to clean her blade. After a long morning of slicing through rivers of the undead, it was crusted with dried blood.

“Glenn, what the hell is this?” The older man regarded you with a blank stare. His accent was thick- thicker than Maggies - and his voice rough against his tongue. He then looked down at Finn- his brows raising and eyes widening. You pushed your nephew further behind you, lips tight together as Rick glanced you over again. Finn was still holding onto your hand.

“Y/N and her nephew, Finn. They've been on their own for a while, camping out in the woods a few hours away.” Glenn motioned to you and Finn as he introduced you to Rick. Mouth still shut, you swallowed back the fear and it sank to the pit of your stomach.

“She’s got meat- venison, with her- she’s a hunter, look I-“ Glenn looked at you quickly, “can you step out for a second, please?”

Once a decent space had been made between you, Finn and the two men, you stared blankly at your feet. You could only hear the whispers that reminded you of hissing and the occasional coddling from Beth in the other room. A sick feeling began to creep up inside of your gut, and you instinctively wrapped an arm around yourself to try and keep the bile from rising up your throat. “Do you think they're gonna kick us out?” Finn asked, his voice a slight hum over the buzzing thoughts in your head. “I.. I don't know, kid.”

A few minutes passed, and you were taken out of your head by the sound of Rick and Glenn approaching you both where you stood.

“Alright,” Rick placed his hands on his hips, almost tucking them into his belt. They looked like they had been lightly dusted with a thin layer of dirt and grime.

“You can both stay for now. We’ll see how it goes, and in a week or two, come back and decide if you can stay permanently or not”

You managed a thank you and a small smile, adjusting your metal recurve bow slung over your back. Rick hesitated momentarily, clearing his throat and shuffling where he stood. “One thing, for uh, the first week, we’re gonna keepa’ holda’ your weapons. We have kids here and-“

“You don’t trust me yet,” you sighed and unsheathed your bow and quiver- handing them over alongside your drop-point black hunting knife and glock 22. You also handed over the 6 full boxes of ammo you had scavenged from a camp that had been overrun by walkers. “Don’t worry, non-taken. I get it. I wouldn’t want a stranger around Finn with guns and knives either.” you nodded at Finn, who then pulled out a large hunting knife from the loop on his pants. Sometimes people you crossed paths with would look at you as though you were a bad parental figure for allowing him to carry that, however, you thought it was more than necessary to teach him while his mind was still malleable. Just in case anything happened to you.

He huffed “Well, I guess we can agree on that. How old are you, Finn?”

“I’m 7 soon, Sir”

Rick almost laughed, and you smiled weakly at the small boy as he insisted on being formal- as though that'd be what made their minds up as to whether you could stay.

“Rick’s just fine, Finn”

The boy nodded and handed Grimes the machete, the blade pointing down to the ground just as you had told him.

“You moved here before, then?” He added, quickly changing the subject. You nodded twice. Having explained this already numerous times, you weren’t that pissed about Rick asking. It was all procedural- he was the leader. It only made sense that he knew where you came from.

“I did before the apocalypse, I was a-.” you took in a sharp breath and pressed your hand further against your hip to try and dull the pain. “I was a tattoo artist and worked in a studio- learned how to shoot a bow in summer camp, kept up with it… a friend of mine before and after, he taught me all the survival stuff, he was ex-military so…”

Like Michonne and Glenn, Rick seemed to relax as you told him part of your story. He - more than anyone - understood that everyone had their demons, and that there were probably things you didn’t want to tell him.

“Well, thank you for telling me. Glenn, take her to Hershel, She can stay in the medical cell until we know she’s not sick.”

‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿

Hershel was a kind man. Kind, old and wise. The way he treated you so carefully and gently- even excusing himself whenever he added pressure to your ribs- It almost brought tears to your eyes. He had told you (and Finn, since he’d refused to leave the medical cell whilst you were being treated) how he had Irish and English ancestry and that his father and grandfather before him took pride in where they’d come from. You chatted back and forth for what felt like hours, and before you knew it, you were all bandaged up. He’d suggested bed rest for your broken ribs, and with the gash on your shoulder, he advised being careful when showering and coming back to see him in a day or so to have it changed or if you accidentally got it wet.

“Now, if I were you, young lady, I’d go wash up and get some rest; you’re gonna need it for your injuries…” you slowly swung your legs over the side of the bed, gritting your teeth together so hard it felt as though you were going to crack a filling. “And you, Young man, you take care of your auntie okay? Make sure she doesn’t get herself in any sorta trouble” Finn nodded, adding a ‘yes sir’ as Hershel reached out to ruffle his head. You pinched the bridge of your nose with your finger and thumb. “But i- Rick said-”

“Never mind what Rick said. I’ll let him know you’re healing up, and I’m sure he’ll understand.”

Before you could get up to leave, a woman with short grey hair knocked on the gate- in her arms, she had what looked to be two towels, a pair of shorts and a clean black vest along with some clothes that’d probably be a bit big for Finn, ones he’d grow into. As she entered, Hershel excused himself, letting the woman know where he’d be if she needed him. She then turned her attention back to you and Finn, a smile spread across her face as she moved to place the clothes and towels on the bed beside you.

“Hi, heard you guys were gonna be staying for a while, thought you'd need some fresh clothes and a towel each for the shower”

You nodded in response, and she sheepishly chewed the inside of her cheek. “I’m Carol, by the way”

“y/n”

“y/n,” The lady - Carol - repeated, as though trialling the name on her tongue to see if it fit. “And what’s your name, hm?” She crouched down to Finns level, and you edged forward on the seat, looking around the room for any sort of weapon in case she tried anything.

“My name’s Finn, Finn L/N”

“It’s nice to meet you Finn, I love your hair, it's very long” She held out her hand, and he took it after examining her for a few seconds. “Nice to meet you too Carol” she smiled at him again and stood to her full height

“Well, y/n, are you alright with walking? I'll show you where the showers are, in the meantime I’ll get those clothes cleaned up for you”

A sad smile tugged at the corner of your lips as she spoke, your eyes glassy.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing I just… everyone here has been so kind to me’

Carol sighed, helping you to your feet, an arm wrapped carefully around your shoulder.

“Well, we’ve all been in your position, honey.”

You can only nod, lips pulled taut in a straight line as you concentrate on not toppling over Finn or ripping the bandages when stepping out into the hall.

As you turned to look back at the lady, you notice her eyes trailing across your skin.

“I like your tattoos, do them yourself?”

“Some, though it’s pretty hard to do it yourself… most of them are my own designs but done by other people, mainly those I worked with…” having taken a towel and a pile of clean clothes from Carol, Finn asked her where the showers were.

“Just down the hall to the left and then straight on, there should be some shampoo and soap already…”

“Thanks again, c’mon Finn, I'd race you, but I don't think I'm in any shape for running.”

The small boy laughed and reached up to hold your hand, you took it in your own, the towel and clothes tucked under your free arm as you walked with him slowly toward the showers.

‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿

Once you and Finn had finished cleaning up and gotten changed into the fresh clothes Carol had pulled out for you, you paced around the stairs of the cell block and eventually heard someone coming down behind you. It was Carol again, and she seemed a little bit faster with her steps as she locked eyes with you. Finn was busy twiddling his thumbs and trying to make his clothes look more normal by rolling up his sleeves.

“Hey! It's nice seeing you both not covered in all that muck, hand those here honey I’ll get them cleaned for you,” you handed her your, and Finn's clothes and brushed the dried blood and dirt from your palms. You didn’t realize they were that gross. “You guys have met everyone, right?”

You shake your head, “ I don’t know, we met Maggie and Beth briefly, Rick of course… Michonne and Glenn found us, Hershel… the kid- Carl” as you listed off the names (which took you a few seconds to remember) you began to wonder whether you had met everyone. That was a lot of people.

“Oh, well, Daryl is out hunting and Judith can't exactly talk yet…” she picked at the hem of your old shirt before eventually placing them at the bottom of the stairs. “you’ll probably see Axel around as well- he’s the skinny guy with the mustache and light hair, he was apart of a group that was here when we arrived.”

“A prisoner?”

“I guess you could call them that, though I suppose we’re all sort of prisoners now if you think about it”

You nod, huffing as you draw your attention back to the hunter she had mentioned and try not to focus on the fact there were felons (convicted of GOD knows what) living amongst the kind people you had met. It was weird how she talked almost like Axel was a friend and not someone to be suspicious of. Hell, even if they were nice, you couldn’t help but be a little skeptical when showering or when taking off your shirt in front of their doctor.

“I don’t like feeling trapped… like a prisoner”

Carol nodded, smiling at you still. She had a nice smile, a lot of the people here did, although you couldn’t shake the feeling that beneath hers there was a lot of pain. You could see it in her eyes that she was tired.

“That’s great, we kinda need more hunters… food running out and everything, Rick said you’d brought some stuff in with you?”

You nod and call Finn to follow Carol as she makes her way up the stairs and takes you both down the aisle toward a cell on the furthest side, adjacent to the wall.

“Luckily for you, Daryl isn’t all that talkative either” she shrugged, laughing to herself. Part of you wondered whether she was seeing this Daryl person. “But he has a big heart and would die for this group- listen, I don’t know you much yet but I kinda have a feeling you’ll fit in just fine, y/n- and you too, Finn. It’s nice having new faces around, especially when they’re as adorable as yours, little guy”

Carol pinched Finn’s cheek with her forefinger and thumb, to which Finn groaned and blushed pink like he had when Maggie complimented his shirt earlier. You smiled down at him and ruffled his hair, when you said he could pick which bed he wanted, he was off and sat down on one and then the other. Trying to gauge which one was most comfortable. To your surprise, your belongings (minus weapons and food) were already shoved underneath the metal bed frames.

“Thanks again, Carol. For this.”

“Like I said,” she lay a hand on your arm gently, “we’ve all been there.”

[onboardsorasora]

Not sure if I like it, but this not about me😅 so here we are Tennis AU;

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 5

Part 4!

Daniel collapsed onto his back, star fishing on the court in the shade. His white shorts rode up to show off his pulsing sweaty thighs. His leg hairs were pressed down and slick. His tattoos glistened.

He'd been running drills for too long, if you asked Micheal (don't), he'd say it wasn't long enough. They'd been at it all day, running through their program steadily.

His phone went off in his duffle.

"Is that the power rangers theme?" Micheal paused and raised a brow.

"Kim Possible actually, rude." Daniel pointed his racquet limply in Michael's general direction.

"They're the same tone." Blake called out, chin tucked to his chest, typing away on his phone in the shade. "Doesn't explain why you've gone back to it though."

"It's Max's tone." Daniel was grinning, all teeth. "When my phone's like off silent anyway."

"We allow you on one extracurricular and you come back with a boyfriend." Michael teased throwing a tennis ball at him.

"hey!" Daniel cried out and shifted his hips, turning onto his side to avoid it. Micheal threw another and Daniel lifted the racquet to lob it away with a cheer.

The phone went off again and Daniel scrambled up to get it but was blocked by a new barrage from Michael. He ran off laughingly in the opposite direction to 'safety'.

"Nope." Micheal popped the p with his lips, a cheeky grin present. "We're not done yet, you can check your sexts after."

Daniel whined, pouting his lips and batting his eyes at his trainer.

"Save the pretty eyes for Max, now on mark let's go asshole."

"you can send him a pic of your legs after." Blake looked up quickly with a smirk before going back to his phone.

Daniel grumbled but prepared himself for work anyway. The quicker he got through this, the quicker he could see what Max sent him.

They'd been texting since the night of the beach party. They had spent the rest of the afternoon together, chatting away at a table mostly in their own world.

Max had introduced him to a few people on his team and a couple other drivers who had passed through. It was a great time getting to know Max the man outside of the paddock and around people he felt comfortable with. He was very funny, he made Daniel laugh breathlessly the whole afternoon. They bantered relentlessly, creating and extending jokes about everything.

That was two days ago, Max had escorted him back to the flat he and his team were renting and they exchanged numbers. Daniel kissed him at the door and ducked into the apartment quickly to hide his blush. Not the suavest move, but Max made his brain stop working.

Since then, they've been texting when Daniel wasn't getting his ass kicked by his best friend slash trainer. Max appreciated his training camp and he tried to avoid texting during the day knowing Daniel was busy and needed to focus.

They had dinner plans tonight, so realistically the texts could have been confirming their date or rain checking.

That thought stopped him suddenly and he missed an easy volley.

"Focus DR!" Micheal called, calmly sending over another ball. Daniel shook his head physically to dislodge the thought. He'd think of it all after.

They went on until he was gasping for breath, only stopping after Daniel declared a strike, demanded a union and then plopped himself bodily beside Blake who grimaced. He barely dodged the impending wet hug.

Daniel grasped for his phone, swiping away all the calendar notifications and social media messages to find the one he wanted. He was single minded, completely ignoring the freeze pop electrolyte drink that Michael chucked at him. It bounced off of his sweaty face.

He opened the text thread from Max;

Max V 🥵

Are we still on for 8?

Oops, sorry. Tell Michael not to be mean.

"Max says not to be mean to me Mikey, he's a world champ, you should listen to him." Daniel called out, grinning in delight. Micheal snorted a laugh. Daniel texted back

8 is still good for me. Mike's being evil as always. I swear he gets off on suffering😢

Daniel tore open the freeze pop with his teeth and sucked greedily at the cold drink. His phone went off again in his hands.

Max V 🥵

Poor thing. I'll have to take care of you then, I'll pick you up at 7:30.

Daniel tried to ignore the flutter in his chest at the thought of Max taking care of him.

Gonna show me a good time? 👀

Max V 🥵

Do you want to sleep over?

Daniel barely managed to keep from choking, the empty freeze pop plastic feel out of his mouth. He looked around swiftly and shifted in his seat, suddenly full of energy. He could feel his heart thudding in his chest now, a thrumming in his veins that wasn't there before.

He tilted his phone away from Blake's potential gaze, completely regretting sitting so close now. He bit his lip, unable to pinch his grin.

I'd love to.

[justaghostingon]

The Cost of the Crown

An inazuma au, because canon has disappointed me, and moral conundrums are fun.

What if Kokomi knew about the delusions?

Think about it: Kokomi is a War general fighting a losing battle against undiscribeable odds. Her home doesn’t have the soil to maintain the kind of food her army needs, she needs every help she can get.

So when the Fatui approach with an offer of a weapon on par with a vision, she’d jump at the chance.

But Kokomi’s no fool. She knows the fatui are only allies for as long as their goals aline, and that doesn’t make them trustworthy. She tests one out on herself and clocks the energy drain right away.

Now an ordinary person would chuck the delusion in the other direction and run at that point, but not Kokomi. She’s desperate. She is very aware that she is fighting a war. And a bloody one at that. Most of her men are going to die. There’s no getting around it. Can she really give up any advantage, no matter how dangerous? Would it be better if her doomed could use that life to get in a few good punches with a delusion before they inevitably succumb?

She decides to test it out. From the fatui stationed nearby she knows some people can weild it longer than others. So she asks Gorou to gather several trusted men, and bring them to her tent.

She then lays down the truth to them, that delusions are dangerous, but could provide a boost in power. She asks them if they are willing to test them out. This is not a mission, she will not order them to risk their lives. It is completely up to them.

The trusted men accept, one of them being Teppei. They are warriors after all, and risking their lives is something they do every day.

Kokomi tries to be cautious. She limits the times each man can use a delusion. Keeps them under lock and key, personally monitors the men’s health to see that the drainage isn’t to bad.

She also asks the traveler, a known weilder of elemental power without a vision, to train the men, so they can master their use quickly and safely.

She tells the traveler of what delusions are and their risks, but she does not tell them she got them from the fatui. The fatui and the traveler share a grudge, and she does not want said grudge to cloud the travelers mind while they train her men.

For a little while, it works. The traveler fights side by side with teppei and the other delusion weilders, and they’re proud of how powerful their students have become

Then it all starts to go wrong.

Teppei starts rapidly aging after a battle, and despite the traveler immediately removing the delusion, it does no good, Teppei dies to quickly to be saved.

The traveler is devistated, wracked with guilt over their hand in Teppei’s fate. They break into Kokomi’s files looking for answers and discover the delusions are from the fatui

Angry, the traveler confronts Kokomi, who is equally devistated at Teppei’s fate. Blaming herself for making a bad call but…

This is war. Men die every day. Sometimes by the thousands. Teppei was one man. He died, but his actions in that battle saved hundreds.

No one knows that better then Kokomi. She’s a war general. Sending men to their deaths is a reality she must face every day.

She tells the traveler the hard truth. This isn’t a fairy tale, or an adventure story. The heroes don’t always succeed. And freedom is a price paid in the blood of soldiers.

Does she want to let the men continue to use the delusions? Of course not! But she gave that choice to the men who hold them. They knew the risks a delusion posed. She could order the men to give them back, she knows they’d listen to her. But as a general, she knows she cannot. Not over the fate of one man.

However, she does know the traveler can pull off miracles. She’s heard what they’ve done in Liyue and Mondstat. So she offers the traveler a deal, strictly off the books. She will confiscate the delusions, for now, If the traveler can successfully find a way to match the delusion’s power in battle.

As a war general, she can only give the traveler a couple of weeks to pull this off. But as the head shrine maiden of Watasumi, she begs the traveler to succeed.

Now the Traveler is doubly motivated. Both to avenge Teppei, who they trained, and to save the rest of Watasumi: from those who would throw their life away on delusions, to the gentle war general who despite everything, has not given up hope.

[helladirections]

HOW DOES POLITICS WORK??

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ASKING. I HAVE SEVERAL RANTS BELOW THE CUT:

Primaries are not necessarily real

There wasn't an official Dem nominee yet anyway

Line of succession doesn't really matter, but pipeline of talent does

1. Primaries are not necessarily real

Ok so we all know how the process appears. On your state's primary election day (different days for different states, annoyingly) you vote for who you want for president. The person with the most votes wins the state.

But here's what people don't always know...

Each state party has different rules about how delegates are assigned. Some give 100% to the winner of the popular vote, some go proportionally. But regardless, these delegates (who are also voted on as a super down ballot thing that most people don't pay attention to) go to the DNC convention where they do the official ballot. Think of this as the electoral college but just for the Dem Party. Each state has a number of votes, theoretically the popular vote guides how the delegates vote, but legally there is flexibility. PLUS, you might see some history or that Netflix biopic where you hear things like "releasing delegates" or "releasing delegates to...". What that means is a candidate who doesn't have enough delegates to win can "release" their delegates to vote for whoever they personally want, or whoever the candidate directs them to. "Multiple ballots" at a convention means that no one has enough delegates the first time and they have to vote again. And in between those votes the candidates and their teams make deals and discuss and ideally people drop out and release delegates.

So your vote in your state is incredibly important. But also. It might not be.

2. There wasn't an official Dem nominee yet anyway

As I explained above, the nominee is decided officially at the DNC convention. You saw the same type of system at the RNC this week. It wasn't until the last day of the convention that they did the official vote and Trump officially accepted the nomination from his party. Before that, there wasn't technically an official nominee yet. Legally. Procedurally. That's part of why it was so weird that they had a debate so early.

Similarly, the DNC hasn't happened yet, so there's not an official nominee either. Typically people don't run against an incumbent president though so it's mostly for show. Obviously, this year it won't be for show, and some of what I talked about in #1 will be relevant.

3. Line of succession doesn't really matter but pipeline of talent does

You may know that the VP takes over as President if the President dies. Next in line is the Speaker of the House, and then it goes down a long list. But Biden didn't die, he just isn't running for reelection and waited until the last minute to do that.

Biden did endorse Kamala. But that doesn't mean Kamala is definitely automatically the nominee. And there's no guarantee of who the VP candidate would be. It just means that she's the front runner and likely has access to the entire campaign infrastructure (including money) that Biden had.

So who else besides Kamala? It doesn't have to go by current position, which is why the line of succession doesn't really matter. It's the pipeline of talent - meaning who else is relevant doing good work and has name recognition. Some names that have been floated:

Gavin Newsom (CA Governor) Gretchen Whitmer (MI Governor) Pete Buttigieg (Mayor Pete, tranpo secretary, former candidate) And others

And names that people float but will never happen: Michelle Obama Hillary Clinton Nancy Pelosi Chuck Schumer etc.

So who's gonna run for president in November?

TBH probably Kamala because she has the biggest head start and those endorsements are powerful. She'll probably pick the most generic white man as her VP. But other people are likely to try and give it a go as well and it wont be official until the last day of the DNC

THANK YOU FOR ALLOWING ME TO VOMIT. I MISS DC AND IT'S NICE TO USE MY POLI SCI DEGREE FOR SOMETHING

[coolcattime]

Back on my yuri train of thoughts, this time with some Capsize and Martha thoughts.

So, my little setup thought of this is that Capsize is in Ruxomar and the champions know this but not where she’s ended up. I've not thought of the exact reason why and it's not all that important so let’s just say she got chucked into the void in the S1 finale.

Capsize doesn’t arrive in Dagrun, rather she falls from the sky half the world away where Martha currently is. She wakes up a few days later aboard the airship, her wounds bandaged and tended to. And Capsize is confused as all hell. The last she remembers she was imprisoned and while she remembered Ianite reassuring her that rescue was coming, being surrounded by objects she’s never seen before makes it clear that something entirely different has happened.

Martha enters, happy that the woman has finally woken and immediately introduces herself. Capsize all the more confused by the stranger but relieved that she does seem to be out of Dianite’s clutches and similarly introduces herself. Even just within this first conversation, the fact that Capsize is from another world becomes pretty apparent. Martha gives her the run down on the situation in Ruxomar (Mianite being the "one true god" with Dianite dead and Ianite missing), but not her own family connections to the situation. The two get set on researching ways to get Capsize back to her own world, currently oblivious that others have also arrived.

Their relationship is kinda odd. Neither would describe it as anything romantic. Capsize is more focused on attempting to come to grips with the new world she’s found herself in. While, Martha is focused on researching way she might be able to send her back to her own world between the jobs she’d typically be doing prior to gaining a passenger, solving magical problems for those who cannot solve them themselves.

But they certainly grow close. Capsize enjoys the exploration provided by Martha who has frankly never had someone actually listen to and want to learn from her for this long before. On days where they’re sailing, they can spend hours just talking. Martha is as curious about Capsize’s world as the pirate is about the one that she finds herself in so they’ll often end up talking about their own lives and experiences. Also the airship only has one bed sooooo…

Eventually Martha gets the letter from Steve about the problems arising in Dagrun. She knows it must be important, so reluctantly she sets course for that direction. She does however give Capsize a warning that the town’s leader (who she decides to not mention is her brother) is particularly anti-Ianite so to really just lay low while they’re there and hopefully whatever this is won’t take long.

And Capsize does plan to do just that, to not get too involved in whatever is needed in the town and hopefully just explore around the general area while Martha sorts whatever problem is present. Except they’re greeted by people Capsize recognises. She quickly gets swept up in the reunions, getting promises to be told what she missed when they’re somewhere more private. 

Then someone starts up the Sparksize bullshit again, Capsize grimacing as she did not miss this. Except Martha has only been half paying attention and goes: “Oh darling, is he your ex?”

And immediately Tom starts yelling about having been right, that he knew that Capsize liked women. Capsize knows she is not going to be able to convince them that she isn’t dating Martha, but it’s at least better than them insisting she’s dating Jordan.

And suddenly Season Two has even more romantic stupid bullshit going on but now it's yuri!! (and idk, maybe Steve and Jordan both try their "that's my girl" bullshit to zero success)

[eisforeidolon]

So I came across a meta post based on screenshots [X][X] of the list of book titles shown in 4x18 that Chuck published. There's a discrepancy where only 24 titles are given when there are 60 tv episodes across that span. Now not only did the meta author skip right past the possibility that since novels are generally longer than a tv show episode, books might generally cover multiple episodes? As well as the even more likely possibility that whoever was typing up the list for the props department got lazy?

The post directly jumped right into full on stan conspiracy-think of how this must be why all the fans in the SPNverse are Sam girls because Chuck purposefully omitted all of Dean's best episodes! Naturally this gets built on in the replies & comments, with even more conspiratorial leaps about how the writers were trying to make fans in-universe love Sam and think he was a hero because nobody does in the real world (snort) yadda yadda Chuck won theory is true yadda yadda D/C was silenced *sob* yadda yadda the story was writing itself without the permission of the writers writing it [crazy eyes].

My other glaring issue - aside from the obvious of what an absurdly biased load of batshit all of that is? I just do not understand why someone trying to suggest a genuinely legitimate theory about a show spanning fifteen years and many different writers? Wouldn't consider for a hot minute before running full tilt with an idea: Hey, this is one random-ass prop screen from one episode that Sam scrolls by fairly quick, does this actually line up with how much of the story we're shown the in-universe fans getting elsewhere? Spoiler: No.

Let's ignore that Chuck specifically mentions the ghost ship from Red Sky at Morning, which isn't on the list, in that very same episode. He could be getting visions of stories and not writing them - unlikely but possible. No, lets jump to Crowley using the books in Clip Show to track down and kill "everyone [Sam & Dean have] ever saved". He says he's able to do it because he has "his sources and a crack research team" as he's shown with a pile of Chuck's books as he's saying it [X]. It's unlikely he would have found Sarah from Provenance through another source besides the books, but theoretically possible.

What you can't use handwaves to set aside, though? Is that as the scene continues, he holds up a copy of what is clearly A Very Supernatural Christmas [X], which is not on the list. It's shown again as part of Metatron's library in Meta Fiction, along with Tall Tales [X], also not on the list. These are direct in-universe physical books shown onscreen. While we're at it, there are a couple of times fan characters make it clear in dialogue other episodes/books exist. In The Real Ghostbusters, Demian and Barnes walk by Sam and Dean playacting a scene directly from Hunted about John's last order regarding Sam. Same episode, Becky tells them about Crowley getting the Colt from Bela, specifically citing the title of Time is On My Side. Last one, in Fan Fiction, Marie immediately jumps to knowing what a tulpa is and says, "Well, in Hell House, Sam & Dean-". None of those three books are on that list. So that list is NOT a comprehensive one for all the published books in-universe.

Part of me really wants to go on an even more extended rant here about fixating on one blink-and-you'll-miss-it detail and imbuing it with six metric tons of meaning without even once seeming to consider if it's actually remotely significant or, y'know, put in with legitimate intention. Even if the meaning being projected isn't completely bonkers. Seeing this done over and over again by people latching myopically onto whatever random tidbit will let them jump to the conclusions they already want ... sigh. Like, this is not how you come up with a good theory, starting from an utterly rotten base!

[plethoraworldatlas]

Campaigners have issued a "red alert" over language included in the 2024 Federal Aviation Administration Reauthorization Act that could pave the way toward banning student loan cancellation.

The current draft of the routine bill bars executive branch officials from cancelling or forgiving student loans taken out to pursue flight training or education at the undergraduate level, the Debt Collective warned on Wednesday.

"They're trying to make relief illegal," the group posted on social media.

Buried 1,000 pages in, the language flagged by the Debt Collective comes under the heading, "Prohibition on mass cancellation of eligible undergraduate flight education and training programs loans."

"The secretary, the secretary of the treasury, or the attorney general may not take any action to cancel or forgive the outstanding balances, or portion of balances, on any federal direct unsubsidized Stafford loan, or otherwise modify the terms or conditions of a federal direct unsubsidized Stafford loan, made to an eligible student, except as authorized by an act of Congress," the text reads.

The Debt Collective named Sen. Chuck Schumer (D-N.Y.), Rep. Hakeem Jeffries (D-N.Y.), Sen. Maria Cantwell (D-Wash.), Sen. Tammy Duckworth (D-Ill.), and Rep. Rick Larsen (D-Wash.) as particularly responsible for the language.

"Forty-five million student debtors need to see this and get very, very loud," the group said.

While the language only prohibits the executive cancellation of a certain subset of loans, experts and advocates warned lawmakers would not stop there.

"Make no mistake, this is a test flight," author and Debt Collective co-founder Astra Taylor wrote on social media. "If they can make student debt cancellation illegal for some people, they will do it for others. Student debtors and their allies need to stick together and stick up for each other."

Taylor urged anyone concerned about the language to contact the legislators flagged by the Debt Collective.

The Debt Collective called the language a "test run."

"If Congress will stop debt relief for pilots now, they'll do it to nurses tomorrow, teachers the next day, and social workers the day after," the group said.

[bustyasianbeautiespod]

(1/2) heyo! I am running behind and just listened to your ep on 4x22 (fantastic as always). I havent listened to the season 4 wrap up yet, so if you have already addressed this feel free to disregard! you mentioned a few times being confused by lilith's actions this ep and i just wanted to say that i have always read this ep as very much her following the plan, not trying to survive. she is at the st mary's precisely so that sam can kill her there and raise lucifer. ik y'all like the sam as the

(2/2) Jesus to Lucifer's Gd ideal but imo for the demonic version of christianity, that is Lilith! She is the child of her god, in whom he is well pleased, and with her death the curtain in the temple is torn asunder and the people are given direct access to her god! she is the sacrificial lamb, sam is just like. the roman state? ig? and 4x18 is just her garden of gethsemene moment where she is bargaining for a way to have the cup taken away from her. but she and ruby were in it together

HELLOOOO TY FOR THIS we did not mention it in the s4 wrapup! first u r sooo right about lilith as a jesus figure!!! like lucifer twisted and shaped her soul and then led her to the abattoir! sam as roman state is so true maybe w a dash of pharaoh bc azazel kept hardening his heart through the baby demon blood feeding and the psychic hunger games and the ruby in general. and 4.18 as garden of gethsemane makes so much sense actually! (lilith should've sung jesus christ superstar in 4.18 or they should've killed wishful thinking worst ep evah to put a musical episode in after 4.18. they could justify it as a "chuck's author powers go off the rails" fun time. this is what riverdale does right) and after she has her moment of doubt she recovers and tells ruby where to find her personal chef so sam can drink and kill her in preparation for the big sacrifice. i think i was also thrown by "don't be afraid. we're going to save the world" in 4.22 but to her paradise on earth IS demons coming up to rule it so that works too. man sorry to lilith that all that happened i hope she and ruby are lying next to each other in the empty complaining about sam and swapping torture tips

- Crystal :)

[meissashush]

7, 13, 18 for the behind the scenes ask game

7. Which part of writing do you struggle with most?

The writing bit haha. I mean, I'm sure most writers feel the same, but there are days I sit down to write and absolutely nothing comes out. I guess, if I want to be more specific, I'd say the issue I encounter the most when it comes to writing is that I can almost never tell if I can't write on certain day because of needing to push through a block, or if it's because I need to take a break. There's a fine line between the two of them, and I am not good at recognizing the difference.

13. Is there a trope you wouldn’t write if it was the last trope on earth?

Ukefication. I'm a devoted lover of bad-asses. Even in the whumpiest of whumps, I want my characters to have agency and a spine. I feel like there is a very big difference between letting a character be vulnerable and making them into nothing more than a shivering brain-dead trophy.

18. What is a line/scene you’re really proud of? Give us the DVD commentary for that scene.

(Forcing myself to do this about a published fic lmao)

Goose Step has a scene in it that was not planned, but ended up being one of my favorite I've written.

“You’re seriously gonna do a little dance for His Majesty?”

Nyx lobbed a knife at Lib’s stupid smirk, watching with annoyance as he flickered around it easily. He lazily chucked another three in the general direction of the blue sparks, snorting as one pinged harmlessly off Lib’s knee-pads.

“Not really being given much of a choice,” Nyx said. “You have to practice phasing without the gear at some point.”

Lib glared at him, rubbing at his knee. “Yeah, I will when it’s not you doing the throwing.”

I wanted it to be clear that Nyx was being a bit of a coward, and that meant that someone other than Cor the Immortal would have to tell him so. I figured I would have someone Nyx was much more inclined to trust say it, so that his refusal to listen would stand out more as a product of fear/anxiety rather than based in any unseen past experiences. Naturally, Libertus was the best choice.

We start with my favorite activity for this duo, Libertus and Nyx giving each other shit.

It always kind of annoyed me that, while I know warping is supposed to be one of the harder magic techniques, Libertus didn't seem to be capable of even phasing when most of the other Kingslgaive are shown doing it. So I decided to make Nyx annoyed by it too, which is why Libertus is being given one-on-one training in it.

Lib, of course, uses the opportunity to make fun of Nyx for being spineless. Bit of glass-house move, given the circumstances, but I've never been above throwing stones so neither is Lib.

I absolutely agree with his decision to wear protective gear while practicing with Nyx, though, whose aim is more instinct than is strictly safe for people who spar with him.

“Coward!” Crowe called, dangling lazily from the ropes overhead.

And here's where the scene immediately went of the rails.

Crowe always has a talent for throwing me completely off in my writing (which is why her fic is taking so freaking long). She's a lot of fun to write because of this, but she also has a tendency to run off and world-build on her own. Such as, the Warp Obstacle Course, of which she is currently dangling from. Yes, it also bothered me that we saw almost nothing of her talents in the movie, so she gets to warp too.

“Mind your six!” Nyx yelled back at her, watching as one of the greener Glaives tried to warp up behind her. Anya, he was pretty sure. The rare Nif with a talent for magic. 

An OC! Yeah, Anya is actually a glaive you should get used to seeing in my fics, since I consider her to be one of Nyx's more trusted officers. This is early into her training, though, and I made a nod to the Comrades lore here that Nifs aren't typically as skilled with magic.

“You should just hire one of those troupes to do it for you. Less embarrassing for Galahd that way. I’ve seen you dance.” Lib said as he tossed the knives back into the Armiger.

Nyx pulled them out again and readied his aim. “Yeah, keep talking and I’ll make you do it.”

Nyx can't dance. He can do the training sequences just fine, but I don't see him as the kind of guy who can let himself go long enough to feel comfortable making a display of himself. Part of this is because I love to juxtaposition 'grandiose' characters with crippling anxiety, and part of it is because in the movie, he is described by other characters as being a show-off, but he doesn't really do that outside of it being a by-product of him doing what is necessary.

I also loved this little interplay of the armiger here. I have a fairly nuanced idea of how 'my' version of the armiger works, and I love hinting at it in places.

“Or,” Luche said, clapping a hand on Nyx’s shoulder. “You could grow a pair and tell his royal arse to shove it.”

Ah, Luche. Eloquent. A good portion of this whole over-arching AU is to redeem the Traitor Glaives, since I think they're neat.

Nyx held the knife over his shoulder, offering it to Luche, who took it immediately.

“You’re late,” he said as the knife whipped past his ear and towards Lib’s chest.

“Yeah, well, blame yourself for putting me on guard on the other ass-end of this fucking city.”

“Blame yourself for running your mouth in front of Councilor Balneum.”

Luche scoffed, grabbing another knife from Nyx’s hand and pitching it at Lib. “He had it coming.”

I also like to explore the relationship between Nyx and Luche as friends who had grown apart, and how that changes when Drautos isn't purposely driving a wedge between them. I see them as two people who know each other extremely well, but don't always have the same ideals. They do, however, both enjoy throwing knives at Libertus.

Nyx nodded slightly in agreement, sniffing once. “Yeah, he did. Doesn’t change the fact that I had to do something about it, or risk him mouthing off to someone else with more sway.”

I don't think a lot of people caught this detail, despite the fact that I made a point of it in the scene prior, but Nyx is subconsciously using the same behavioural cues that he was examining in Cor. Specifically, this is the 'slight sniff to denote agreement', though Nyx notably also voices his opinion where Cor tends to leave it unspoken.

“Fucking politics.”

Nyx laughed, “Yeah, welcome to the Citadel, Luche. You still want to be my second?”

This is the first time I mention in this series (or any, for that matter) that Luche is Nyx's second in command. I will delve into this more in his planned KGLegends22 piece.

“Shut the fuck up,” Luche sighed, throwing the last knife at Lib and missing by a meter. “Let me take a nap instead of running drills, and we’re even.”

Lib watched the knife clatter off in the other direction, bemused.

Luche is just tired, here. His aim is actually very good.

“How about you go relieve Crowe of her flag and I won’t make you do target practice for an hour to make up for your shit aim?”

Nyx has to balance being a Captain and not being a hardass. He's being a bit soft here, but part of that is to gauge just how sour Luche is, since this is early into their Captain-Second partnership. They already mesh pretty well, but the last thing the Kingsglaive need is interpersonal conflict between their leadership. It's about toeing the line between authority and comraderie.

“Oi, fuck you!” Crowe shouted, now dangling slightly to the left of where she had been earlier and attempting to shove Anya off the course.

“Deal,” Luche laughed before shattering into blue sparks behind him.

One of the parallels I am making in this scene is the connection between Fighting and Play in Galahdian culture. Nyx's training style and leadership is drastically different from Drautos', largely because Nyx is letting his own upbringing inform how he leads. Rather than warp training being traumatic as it is in the movie, they utilize various techniques in team building activities, simultaneously training the magic as they build trust in one another.

I am annoyed at myself for not mentioning that there are other Glaives taking part in this capture the flag game, though. It's not just the five of them in there.

“Still should just tell them off, Hero,” Lib said, sauntering back from retrieving Luche’s stray throw. “Or at the very least have someone else do it. No reason to make a fool of yourself for the royals. You’re not just a random Glaive anymore and they need to remember that.”

“Easy for you to say,” Nyx scoffed. “You’re not the one standing in a room with them every day.”

“Sounds like you need to remember it too, Captain."

Libertus has never exactly been subtle, but that's just as well, since Nyx is being extremely obtuse here. You'd think he'd pick up on it, but nah. Which is a good think for us, since otherwise we wouldn't have gotten Nyx doing a little dance for Cor in the very next scene XD

[charlesandmartine]

Sunday 15th January 2023

Sunday has dawned hot from the get-go. No messing around with the thermostat today. Before 8am it was 24 degrees with the sun beating down as I ran down to the quay and back. Many people already out for a promenade, run, walk the dog(s), cycle or maybe all of the above. Some pruning shrubbery even. Many gardens back onto the coastal path spilling exotic blooms and foliage towards the pathway, escaping from the multi million dollar properties that lay behind them. I'm surprised they let riffraff like me run past them!

Evidence of a newspaper person's route lay on the pavements in the form of discarded plastic wrapped Sunday Telegraphs delicately dumped (delivered) in the general direction of the purchasers residence. (perhaps).

Back home for breakfast; usually a slice of toast. We have here an over active, vigorous Breville toaster that practically launches the toast when it assumes it's done, rather like a clay pigeon thrower. It could perhaps become a new sport.

Martine has completed the required 100 lengths of the pool under ideal conditions so we are now both exercised and ready to meet the challenges of the day.

The plan today is to slap on the factor 50 and take a 173x & 199 bus to Narrabeen, further up on the northern beaches. We've never been to Narrabeen, so it'll be good to have been. Once again it's capped travel costs, so now is the time to explore. This is a very popular coast and many people come out of Sydney especially at weekends to soak up the sun on these lovely long golden beaches.

On reaching Narrabeen, it was very pleasing to come across a restored R Class tram No.1753 which last ran on the Manly to Narrabeen in 1939. Today it is an important addition to the Tram Shed Cafe. Naturally we had to check what a flat white would taste like when aboard. Each 3rd Sunday in the month a market is held on the Berry Reserve between the cafe and the South Creek lagoon. It was the kind of market that could be anywhere; international food stalls, arts and crafts as well as bric-a-brac. I bought a hat, under duress. A very pleasant lagoon as lagoons go, and could have formed a real alternative to sitting on the beach.

The beach was close by however and proved a ideal spot for a bit of luncheon gazing out to the Pacific Ocean. Not crowded, breezy and very amusing watching small families struggling to erect huge gazebos in the prevailing onshore wind. It was a problem that would have foxed the greatest of engineers! Brunel would have chucked in his theodolite long before, but they struggled on nonetheless. The biggest problem going to be how to get it back in the tiny bag to go home. Then when complete, they just leave it and go jump in the sea!

Popped into Woolworths to top up on Sauv.Blanc and returned on a slow bus back to Manly. Great day out again and ready for a curry which is the last of the latest rubbery chicken.

[mickgaydolenz]

Since the link won’t work for you ;_; here is what the site says:

MONKEE BUSINESS THE MUSICAL, featuring exotic locations, far out cars, groovy spies and The Monkees’ biggest hits, is swinging into the Manchester Opera House for its world premiere, follwed by performances at the Glasgow Kings Theatre and Sutherland Empire.

Take a look at the Monkees production shot below!

It’s the story of four innocent boys who fall prey to an evil record producer and are tricked into impersonating one of the biggest bands in the world. As they struggle to conceal their own personalities, a frantic world tour leads to entanglements with a harem of sexy Russian spies, an army of Tower Beefeaters and a railway carriage full of nuns.

From the producers of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang and Spamalot, Monkee Business the Musical will pay homage to both the crazy chaos of the Emmy Award winning TV series and the brilliant music of The Monkees featuring hit after hit including I’m A Believer, Last Train to Clarksville, Hey, Hey We’re The Monkees and the smash hit Daydream Believer alongside many more iconic songs from the era like My Boy Lollipop and You Don’t Have to Say You Love Me.

Made instant world-wide stars by the famous 1960s TV series, The Monkees, made up of Manchester-born Davy Jones, Micky Dolenz, Peter Tork and Michael Nesmith, became one of most successful bands of their generation – at one time even outselling The Beatles and The Rolling Stones – releasing 121 songs on nine albums and influencing many future artists.

The cast includes: Ben Evans (Chuck – posing as Davy Jones), has a wealth of West End credits already including Jersey Boys, Les Miserables, Olvier! Mamma Mia! and The Lord of the Rings; Oliver Savile (William – posing as Peter Tork), after graduating made his professional debut in the UK tour of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat and has recently been touring the world in the international tour of Mamma Mia!; Stephen Kirwan (Andy, posing as Micky Dolenz) made his West End debut in Cameron Macintosh’s Mary Poppins. He has also toured the UK in Fiddler on the Roof and Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. Most recently Stephen has appeared as Claude in the European tour of Hair; and Tom Parsons (Mark – posing as Mike Nesmith) has appeared in the West End in Mamma Mia! and most recently as Nicky/Trekkie in Avenue Q.

Joining Ben, Oliver, Stephen and Tom in Monkee Business the Musical, playing the role of the boys’ unscrupulous manager Joey Finkelstein will be the extremely familiar face of Linal Haft. Linal – most recently seen as Harry Gold in Eastenders – has a wealth of theatre, film and television credits to his name. Theatre includes Slaughter City (RSC), Happy Birthday Brecht (National Theatre), The Old Neighbourhood (The Royal Court) and most recently the award winning Burlesque at Jermyn Street Theatre. TV includes Minder, Shine on Harvey Moon, Great Expectations, Vanity Fair, Rome and the aforementioned Eastenders with films including Moulin Rouge.

Monkee Business the Musical is written by Peter Benedict (Naked Flame, Fire Down Under, Deadlock), directed by David Taylor (Cats, The Prisoner of Second Avenue), choreographed by David Morgan (Chitty Chitty Bang Bang) and produced by the madcap Michael Rose Ltd in conjunction with the seriously-off=the-wall Ambassador Theatre Group.

Monkee Business is premiering at the Opera House as part of Manchester Gets It First, Ambassador Theatre Group’s commitment to making Manchester the UK’s official city for launching theatre’s biggest and best new musicals, a scheme which has won the backing of the city council. Ghost the Musical was the first MGiF show, and last month saw the second, the record-breaking All New People – written by and starring Zach Braff.

The Manchester run of Monkee Business The Musical will be dedicated to Davy Jones, a wonderfully talented musician whose songs brought happiness to millions of people around the world.

information goldmine ✨👀✨!!!!! i knew about the musical, but i did not know all of this!!! thank you so much 🙏😔. also damn can’t believe someone who worked on cats worked on the fucking monkees musical…..

[nothingunrealistic]

Goldcrest Post is currently providing sound editorial and mixing for the sixth season of Billions, Showtime’s critically-acclaimed and popularly-received drama about power politics in the world of high finance. Supervising sound editor/re-recording mixer Gregg Swiatlowski and re-recording mixer Eric Hirsch lead the sound team, as they have from the show’s first season, delivering a soundtrack that blends the show’s razor sharp dialogue with iconic pop songs and sound effects that capture the rarified ambiance of Wall Street brokerage houses and other hang-outs of the super-rich. The show was recently renewed for a seventh season.

[…]

In shepherding the show through post-production sound, Swiatlowski and Hirsch work under the direct supervision of Koppelman, Levien and Co-Executive Producer Michael Harrop. “Billions is very much a dialogue-driven show,” says Harrop. “Sound post-production is nuanced to ensure that the dialogue between the characters is highlighted, and the performances are clean. Eric and Greg are masterful in their technical aspects of sound, but they're also storytellers themselves and skilled in making sure the emotion pops. They’re artistry helps make the show sing.”

Background ambience is highly refined and pristine. Hirsch notes that sound effects are kept to a minimum and chosen with care both to avoid distracting from the dialogue and to subliminally underscore that notion that everything in the world of high finance is under tight control. “If you are a billionaire, you can afford the best soundproofing, so when we are in the company run by Mike Prince, it’s very quiet,” Hirsch explains. “The same sound aesthetic applies to other locations. Restaurants are upscale venues that only the super-rich have access to. The challenge for us is that many of the shooting locations are relatively noisy and require extensive clean-up to create the effect of serene silence.”

Post sound effects are applied with restraint but serve a critical function in establishing a sense of place. The many scenes set in Wall Street trading rooms include a patter of office sounds, but they are generally kept tucked away. “The trading rooms are almost hermetically sealed. You rarely hear phones as you would in a normal office,” observes Hirsch. “And the dialogue has to be more than just clear. Each cast member has a distinctive and interesting voice. We have to apply the right EQ for each person to capture the individual character of his or her voice.”

An exception to the quiet background environments is the U.S. Attorney’s office where Rhoades works. In contrast to Prince’s firm, it is a beehive of activity full of traditional office equipment and people coming and going. “We employ a regular loop group to create ambience. When you hear them, you immediately know you’re in Chuck’s office,” Hirsch explains. “But, even there, it’s restrained. You hear it but it’s not a focus of attention. It never distracts from the story.”

“Sound defines the spaces that the characters live in, but does so subtly, so viewers don’t notice adds Harrop. “Eric and Gregg excel in that way. They make you feel like you are inside the show.”

One other big component of the soundtrack is music. The show has garnered wide praise for its deft use of pop songs, both familiar and obscure. The fifth season included songs by artists as diverse as Patti Smith, Bad Company, U2, Warrant, Cat Stevens and Metallica. The Rolling Stones, the Allman Brothers Band and Public Enemy are among the artists featured in season six.

“Music is a constant; it’s almost as omnipresent as the dialogue,” notes Hirsch. “It adds intensity to the mix, but, as with the sound design, it does so in a subliminal way. We shape and blend it so that it doesn’t mess with the dialogue. It pokes through now and then, but otherwise it’s an underscore that serves to ratchet up the tension.”

Music cues are deployed effectively to drive the story forward and set the mood. Hirsch points to a scene from the show’s fourth season that made brilliant use of the Fun Lovin’ Criminals track The King of New York The track “It was a fun sequence,” he recalls. “It’s a montage that follows Chuck as he visits several upscale restaurants. It was a chance for us to pump the sound, while creating a mood and a contrast to quieter moments.”