#almost forget and this is important for me to clarify

[ratguy-nico]

people I dont know how I did this. the gods guide my hand. Im so proud of the lineart, of course I have problems with some parts, like the background, and the center, and proportions, but it look so good despite this

(I'll probably still hate this tomorrow though T^T)

*In case you dont understand because the placement is awful the text says - YOU ARE FORBIDDEN FROM DYING ON ME - (I apologize to any english speaker or graphic designer for this abomanation)

this was inspire again from a publication of @br1ghtestlight (i feel like a creep for doing this again i'm so sorry, but they have such amazing ideas!) it was a post about Louise being terrified seeing movies like terabithia or my girl cause she imagine Rudy dying on her and that ignite this idea on my brain. I actually make it surprisingly fast for me. I wasn't even expecting on coloring no less everything else, but I just couldn't help it. I was totally invested in the vision.

[wander-wren]

a Thought, tm, if you will

Katsuki is sprinting before he properly knows what’s happening, caught up in green and redredred and Deku. He skids to his knees, half colliding with Deku as he scrabbles for a good hold on Katsuki’s shoulders.

Scrabbles, because his hands are wet and slippery with his own blood and there’s no traction. His eyes are wide, pupils so huge there’s hardly a hint of emerald, his mouth open with gasps for air, teeth stained red.

Katsuki realizes he’s babbling like the nerd himself. “Fuck, fuck, stop moving, I gotcha, I’m gonna get you out of here, just—shit, just fucking—where the fuck is it coming from.“

Everywhere.

Broken bones shift and splinter further under his clumsy hands. Kacchan has never been the one of them that fixes things.

“D—Izuku, hold on, hold the fuck on, I’m fixing you-“

“Kacchan,” Izuku gasps, body jerking, out of control. Katsuki thinks death throes and then thinks over my goddamn corpse.

“Shut the fuck up, you stay with me, you hear? I swear to god, I am dragging your shitty ass home.”

“Kacchan!”

And Izuku grabs the sides of his face with his blood-slicked hands, yanking him down hard and crushing their lips together. Katsuki makes a noise of protest, muffled. He tastes Deku, ozone and sage, and then he feels it.

Lightning crackling through his veins, making a home in his bones. Pure power, generations of it, flowing easily under his skin.

Tenth.

Katsuki rips away with a short, horrified cry, but it doesn’t help. Doesn’t stop it. Izuku’s eyelids flutter shut, the ghost of a smile still on his face, and Katsuki grabs the front of his uniform before he collapses. He drags him in, cradling him against his chest, letting his blood flow red and red and red over both of them and watching Izuku’s quirk dance helplessly on his skin. Like it can’t settle. Like it knows it doesn’t belong to him. The sounds of battle are ringing all round them; it’s only a matter of time before another attack catches them. The fighting’s not over.

Fuck the fight.

Katsuki staggers to his feet and starts sprinting. Save to win.

He hasn’t lost to Deku yet, and dammit, he isn’t starting today.

credit where credit’s due, i saw a tododeku fic with a similar premise (mid-battle kiss to transfer ofa) which i did Not read bc my first thought was WOW I WANNA WRITE THAT and i dont wanna. accidentally steal too much. so i made it bakudeku and now it’s living in my head

[spicyspiders]

Hello good sir, can I request 141 + Alejandro and König where the reader celebrates a certain amount of hears of sobriety from drugs?

Like the reader used to abuse substance because of something traumatic like a death of a loved one or smth like that and now they're celebrating getting out of that situation?

I'm currently 1 year sober from drugs and I'm just rlly happy :)

Love your posts btw ❤❤

Congratulations on your sobriety!

It’s been a while since you’ve felt like you have control over your body. You no longer dig for the bottle. The want is still there, but that’s all it is– a want, when at the beginning it felt like a need. Overall, it’s been a year. A long year, but a year. 

It’s been almost a year and a half since your friend died. The aftermath felt like darkness that you couldn’t find your way out of. Certain days can be harder than others, but you still haven’t reached for a bottle in a year. 

You went out and bought yourself something small after you left your house. You weren’t sure what you wanted to buy even after you arrived at the store. You made the decision when your eyes landed on the sweet treat. 

You knew of people that had parties to commemorate the accomplishment, but you were happy to pick up the individual cupcake to celebrate. The cupcake was small, all wrapped up in plastic and shining under the fluorescent light. Everything used to feel so heavy when you stopped drinking, even the smallest things like getting out of bed, but now, it all feels so small. 

You probably looked crazy walking up to the self-checkout holding a cupcake and smiling, but you felt happy. You thanked an employee on your way out the door, still smiling. 

“Have a good day,” they responded, sending a small smile of courtesy your way. 

“You too.” You walked out of the store and started the walk home. The small walk home. 

Your home wasn’t the way you left it when you got home. It was full of other bodies, talking and laughing, making their presence known from the moment you stepped in. 

“How’d you get in my house?” You asked the group when you walked to where they were in the living room, all of them sprawled out and comfortable. 

“We have a copy,” Soap responded nonchalantly. 

“We?”

Price walked over to where you stood in the entryway and clapped you on the shoulder in greeting, “just him,” Price clarified. 

“Ah,” you weren’t sure if that was any better. 

“What’re you doing here?”

“We know how important today is,” Price said. With his arm around your shoulder, he pulled you to the couch. When you were settled down, your body in between his and Simon’s, he squeezed your shoulder. “It’s been a year?” He asked. 

“Just about,” you responded softly, smiling down at the cupcake you still help, clutching it protectively to your chest. 

“We’re proud of you, you know that?” Your friend would be too,” you could hear the smile in Price’s voice. 

“Thank you. I’m proud of myself, too,” you were getting choked up, but still had the smile on your face. 

König and Gaz sat on your loveseat, their bodies squeezed together to try and fit in the small space. Soap sat near their legs, digging around in his pocket, both of the men on the couch watching him with furrowed brows. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat, suddenly feeling confusion instead of sadness, “is that my key?” You asked when Soap tossed the item on your coffee table. It nearly flew off, but landed just on the edge. 

“It’s the one I used to make my copy.”

“How many did you make?”

“Me, Simon, Price, Gaz, Rudy, Ale-” Soap listed off on his fingers, getting cut off by Gaz throwing a pillow in his face. 

“Do not forget about me,” König said, ignoring the glare Gaz sent his way. 

“He’s the only one that has one,” Ghost said. 

“Has one what?” Rudy asked, who had just walked in with Alejandro. 

“Nothing!” Soap said to the two of them then threw the pillow back at Gaz. 

“You have a key too?” You asked them both. 

“Of course we do,” they both said, coming in to settle down into the space like all the others were. 

You met them all days into your sobriety when you thought it would be better to be out of your house, away from the bottles you knew you still had to throw away. Soap had run into you, the group of men playing a game in the park you decided to take a walk in. It left you with a scar on your knee, which now had the cupcake resting on top of it. 

“Did you all just break into my house to watch television?” You asked after everything had quieted down.

“Soap did, but we didn’t,” Price responded, and laughed softly at the noise Soap squawked out in protest.

[beyondthesefourwalls]

Motivation Tactics

Summary: You’re having a hard time finding the motivation to finish a work assignment with an upcoming deadline. While you're on a conference call, Bradley decides to help you release some of the frustration and tension you’re feeling. His knees may not thank him later, but you sure will.

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 2.2K 

Warnings: oral sex (f receiving), language, talk of work deadlines and jerk coworkers. 

Notes: Some shameless shenanigans, because why not? This can be read as a standalone, though I envisioned it within the RYEWID/Forgetful Boy universe, but there’s no specification on if this is before or after the series. 

______

“God, you are such a fucking dick.”

Bradley raised his eyebrows as he approached your office. He had just gotten home from work and you hadn’t responded when he called out for you upon entering the house. He had climbed the stairs with the intent to find you and clearly he’d been right in his assumption that you were holed up where you spent the majority of your work day. 

“What’d I d-woah,” he exclaimed as he made it to the doorway. 

Something Bradley had learned about you very early on was that you were, frankly put, a neat freak. It complemented his own tidy tendencies well. Your house was always clean and organized, to the point where your friends made jokes about being able to eat off the floors. It was important to you. 

This…was not that.

Your desk was in the middle of the room instead of its normal place against the wall, computer wires stretching from the outlet. Your bookshelf was backed into a different corner than it normally was but all the books and knick knacks were strewn out across the carpet. The chair you kept in the corner was on the opposite side of the room with the throw pillow nowhere to be found. 

You were there amongst it all, seated at your desk chair. Your hair was piled on top of your head, glasses perched on your nose. You barely offered him a glance as you angrily typed away on your keyboard. 

“Not you,” you clarified. “This jerk!” 

“Okay…but why is your desk in the middle of the room?”

Bradley winced at the glare you sent him as you explained you had gotten a bout of writer’s block and started to rearrange your office as a distraction. You had been in the middle of it when you got a phone call from the editor you had been partnering with, someone you had worked with several times and who often sought you out to write for her, telling you that another journalist had requested the assignment. 

“That’s bullshit,” Bradley said, feeling genuine frustration on your behalf. You worked harder than almost anyone he knew, and were so passionate about every story you write. He remembered how excited you had been the night before when this one landed in your inbox. “Is she going to let him have it?” 

“No,” you scoffed with a shake of your head, “but now he’s emailing me trying to tell me that his sources are better than mine and he isn’t going to give me access to them. Well jokes on him because I already spoke with them. But he’s also threatening to write it anyway and post independently on a blog. So I need to get this finished, but I have this stupid conference call in ten minutes that I don’t even know why I agreed to be on. And my office is a mess!” 

“Hey hey hey,” he soothed, nearly accidentally tripping over your printer on the floor as he walked further into the room to your side. He swung your chair around to face him as he dropped to a knee to be more level with you. He turned your face to look at him with a long finger hooked under your chin. Leaning in, he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. You were still frowning when he pulled away, but the crease in your forehead had smoothed slightly. Still, he ran his thumb over your lips and to your cheek, pushing up on your skin to force a smile on your face. You swatted at his hand at the action, but you were giggling now and Bradley felt as accomplished as he had been all day; he always did when he was the source of your laughter.

“What are you struggling with, Pumpkin?” he asked. He rested his hands on your bare thighs, rubbing up and down slowly. You were in an old Navy sweatshirt and loose athletic shorts and as much as he loved you dolled up for him, he loved these looks of yours just as much. Truthfully, he loved you in anything, or even nothing at all.

He listened as you rambled on about what you were working on, offering his input when appropriate. He knew that sometimes you just needed to talk it out and he was always happy to be on the receiving end. After about five minutes, you were speaking mostly to yourself as you worked through your ideas, jotting them down in a notebook. He sat back on his feet, just watching you until your computer started dinging to signal the start of your conference call.

He pressed a kiss to your lips and swiped your water bottle from on top of a stack of books, intent on refilling it for you. 

When he got back to your office, your eyes were darting between your monitors and you were tapping your pen against the surface of your desk. He could hear someone droning on about ethics in journalism and sourcing. He knew you were barely paying attention and that your mind was working a mile a minute wanting to get back to work, and that you’d be restless like this until the call was over and you could. 

You chewed on your bottom lip before soothing it over with your tongue, and an idea popped in Bradley's head that immediately had him stirring in his pants. He thought it over for a moment before ultimately deciding that the pros far outweigh the cons, and if you didn’t want it, you could stop him.

With that in mind, he set your water down. You glanced up at him with a smile, and he winked at you before sinking to his knees in front of the desk, crawling under it as best as he could. It was a tight fit, but he made it work. You jerked when he started dancing his way up your legs, just barely ghosting over your skin with his fingertips. When he got to the hem of your shorts, a hand reached down to grab his wrist. He paused in his movements, but after a moment, you let him go and lifted your hips to help him achieve his task of tugging your shorts and underwear down. With a smirk, he spread your legs wider. You scooted closer to the edge of the chair without him even having to ask. 

Bradley left gentle presses of his lips on the inside of your thigh, nipping at the skin every few kisses and then soothing it over with his tongue. You were squirming in anticipation and he stroked his thumbs in the curve of where your hips met your stomach, trying to help you relax. He blew a soft breath over where you were starting to glisten for him and your whole body shuddered. He took your right leg and draped it over his shoulder, shimmying as close to you as you could.  He pressed one hand against your lower stomach beneath your sweatshirt and gripped one of the arms of your chair to keep it steady with the other before he finally leant in. 

He flattened his tongue against your folds, licking a solitary stripe up and gathering your juices on his tongue. He groaned quietly at your taste as he dove back in. He switched between licking into you and sucking your clit into his mouth. He knew the altering sensations were something you enjoyed. As much as your position allowed, your hips started to move against his mouth. He pulled away and the hand on your stomach came down to hold your hip instead. 

“Stay still for me, baby. Can you do that?” 

You let out a breathy promise of doing what he asked and Bradley kissed the inside of your thigh. 

“Good girl.” 

He nudged your clit with his nose before licking into you again. You whined quietly for him, and he wished he could see your face from this angle. One of your hands crept below the desk and found a home on the back of his head, fingers threaded through his curls, holding him against your cunt. Your other leg came to drape across his free shoulder. Your wetness coated his face. He was completely surrounded by your taste and scent and he hummed happily, making you shiver again. 

Bradley wasn’t hurried in getting you off. Instead, he ate you out leisurely. He explored every inch of your pussy with his mouth and tongue. He would focus on the areas he knew you were the most sensitive for a few seconds longer than the rest before moving on. Your fingers tightened in his hair every time he did it.  You tasted so good that he thought he could stay on his knees between your legs like this for hours, his knees and back be damned.

The speaker on the call said your name and you gasped quietly, clearly not expecting it. Bradley paused for a moment, giving you a false sense of security. He heard your mouse click and the small ding that indicated you had taken yourself off mute and pulled your clit between his lips and sucked hard. Your hips jerked and he tightened his grip on the chair to make sure you didn’t accidentally fall. You coughed to cover up the words you stuttered over, clearing your throat. You pulled hard on his hair, but your thighs tightened around his head. 

You didn’t want him to stop, but he knew he’d pay for that stunt later - he couldn’t wait. 

He went back to his previous pace as you spoke. You kept it as short as you could and Bradley almost chuckled when someone asked you a question, forcing you to expand. You were starting to tremble. 

He didn’t really comprehend any of what you were saying, but your voice washed over him like a pleasant hum. He zeroed in on how much he loved listening to you and imagined you were demanding him go harder and moaning his name instead of speaking about ethics and writing styles, never taking his mouth off of you. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but he registered you saying your goodbyes right before your laptop slammed shut, and his name really was falling from your lips. 

“God, fuck, Bradley!” 

You sounded wrecked and it had him doubling down on his efforts. You had been so patient with him and now he was more determined than ever to make you come for him. 

He brought the hand that was holding your hip down to your pussy. He didn’t hesitate before he slipped two fingers inside of you. You were so wet, and as he started fucking you with them, your cunt let out the most obscene sounds. He drew your clit back into his mouth, humming and sucking. You pushed his head further into you and grinded your hips against his face and this time he let you, knowing you were close. The hand that wasn’t in his hair slapped down against the top of your desk. The moment he curled his fingers inside of you, you were shattering. 

The moan you let out was long, loud, and absolutely beautiful. Bradley removed his fingers but didn’t let up with his mouth until you were done riding out the orgasm you had earned. You let your legs fall from his shoulders as your whole body shook.

When your hand fell from his hair, he pushed your chair back far enough to let him pop up between you and the desk. His back popped and he knew he’d be sore later, but it didn’t stop him from licking his lips and grinning at you, slumped back in your chair with your chest heaving. 

“You think you can concentrate now?” he asked.

You laughed breathlessly and sat up straighter to pull him into a kiss. You licked into his mouth with no hesitation of tasting yourself and Bradley’s dick twitched, hard in his khaki pants. 

God, he loved you so much. 

When you separated, the dazed smile was still on your face, but you nodded at his previous question. 

“Good,” he said. “Why don’t you take your laptop out to the back porch and write out there, and I’ll get your office back in order for you?” 

You hummed in response, and after he helped you slide your shorts back on, you followed his advice and unplugged your laptop from the dock it was set up on. Your legs were a little shaky as the two of you stood and Bradley steadied you with a hand on your hip, a smirk threatening to take over his face. 

You rolled your eyes at the look, and before he could even process you were moving, the hand not holding your laptop reached down to palm him through his uniform pants. He choked out a groan as you squeezed. But just as quickly as you had done it, you were stepping away from him completely. Unlike him, though, your smirk was planted firmly on your face. You winked at him over your shoulder as you walked to the door. There was an extra bounce in your step as you called back to him. 

“I’m suddenly feeling incredibly motivated to get this done. Maybe when I do, you can proofread it while I return the favor.” 

------

End Notes: My work days would be SO much better if this is how they went. I hope you enjoyed it, and would love to hear your feedback. Likes/comments/reblogs mean the world💚

Special thanks to Mak and Em for everything, as always.

Masterlist

Tag List (please let me know if you’d like to be removed or added!) :  @roosterforme - @mak-32 - @hoyaharper - @wildxwidow - @gretagerwigsmuse - @bradshawburner - @iamaslytherin0 - @lilyevanswhore - @too-fangirl-to-fuction - @fav-fanficssss - @benhardysdrumstick - @fandomxpreferences - @acatwriteshere - @1234-angelika - @double-j - @cocoskween - @sunflowersteves - @teacupsandtopgun - @littlezee80 - @sometimesanalice - @je-suis-prest-rachel - @khaylin27 - @infamous-reindeer - @hotch-meeeeeuppppp - @sarahjoestewy-blog - @sunnysidesidra - @notroosterbradshaw - @yanna-banana - @inthestars-underthesun -@avengersfan25 - @wkndwlff - @zbeez-outlet - @lt-spork - @indynerdgirl - @loveforaugust - @mssleepy876b

@kassieesworld - @luckylexie - @lovemesomevesey - @mizzzpink - @books-for-summer - @a-serene-place-to-be - @deviltsunoda - @tv-fanatic18 - @memoriesat30 - @melody-death - @imnotcreativeenoughforthisblog - @dabisblackprincess - @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy - @realdirectionx - @waywardhunter95 - @myownworstenemyyy - @sexualparkour - @sadpetalsstuff - @almostgenerallyalways -@alilstressyandlotdepressy - @14readwritedraw96 - @ccbb2222 - @taytaylala12 - @alittlechaotics-blog - @starkleila

@shelbycillian - @mavrellover91 - @vici111 - @merishfit - @plaper1 - @lunamooncole - @pariahsparadise - @bunny-nonnie - @blackwidownat2814 - @huang-the-geek - @jpgliv - @bluelicious - @loveyhoneydovey - @pisupsala - @nuvoleincielo - @olivezeppelin - @jynxmirage - @shanimallina87 - @ouralcohol - @lumpypoll - @discowitchyy - @bellaireland1981- @princessmiaelicia - @eighthwvnder - @floydflys - @smile-child-13 - @rashelruby10 - @csoutsider - @cowboybarbie - @haydensith - @itsizzythebell - @phantomxoxo - @myhealthymarvelobsession - @winterrebel04

[octuscle]

Goddamn dude you’re two for two, I’d fucking kiss you if Boss wouldn’t have my ass for it. He says I’m all hisSNDNFIDDN

Shit sorry, hard to type while I’ve got a weapon of mass destruction up my asSKSHFDBD

Okayokay shit I’ll make this quick ‘fore he breaks my phone. He doesn’t like it when my attention ain’t on him. I know you’re probably sick of all my requests but I really need this one from you man. I don’t want Boss to be my boss anymore. Or, not just my boss. I…I-uhh wannaAJSFHRI

AAAH FUCK okay I want ‘im to be my husband. Lock him down so I can always be his and he’ll be mine and all that sweet shit. Call me a romantic, or a whore I don’t care. My problem is, apparently our situation is “unethical”. Yeah he’s Big BoOPSNXD

Fuck! He’s Big Boss to me and all the guys under me but even he’s got assholes in charge of him and they’re already breathing down his neck for all the private meetings with me. But I don’t wanna leave this job. I love the guys, I love leading them and working with ‘em, they’re like family. So is there a way you can make boss above all those dickheads in suits above him? Or maybe just persuade them or make them more understanding of our—oh shit, am I gonna say this? Of our lovVEGEIDHHK

CHRISTONABIKE alright fuck it dude I’m sending this shit as is, just please help me out again, I swear I’ll do anything you ask for it. FUCK yes sir I’m putting it down I’m putting it down—-

This is a sequel to this asks here:

Dude, like I always say: Never fuck the company! That's why my supervisor always makes me a muscular employee at KFC when he has a craving for my cock. But that has not been the question at all.

It didn't take long for word of your affair to spread all the way to the board. And it only takes afew hours that you have an appointment with the CEO and the head of HR. To relieve the stress, you had another quick fuck in the bathroom. Now your suits sit reasonably well over your muscular bodies again, the wide open shirts show a lot of your hairy chest! You look great, unlike the two fat guys sitting across from you in the conference room. They've certainly never seen the inside of a gym or stood in the mud of a construction site in their work boots.

Head of HR begins his speech. "It has come to our attention, Jack, that you are having a sexual relationship with one of your co-workers and are doing so in the workplace." Your boss or daddy raises his hand, asks to interrupt for a moment, puts one hand in the inside pocket of his jacket, pulls out a ring, takes your hand, puts the ring on it and says "Just to clarify, this is not just a co-worker but also my fiancé." You can't help but stick your tongue down his throat. For a brief moment you forget about the two assholes in the room. But when you end the kiss and look back at the CEO and Head of HR, they both look changed. Most noticeably, their stern expressions have given way to an almost cheeky grin. And somehow there's the shadow of a beard on their flabby chins. And the facial features are starting to become less flabby.

"So Jack and Mike," the CEO begins. "You know that diversity is extremely important in the company. We think it's great that the two of you as a couple set such a great example of an open and colorful society." You grin. Your fiancé and you tend to wear black. Black suit and black shirt at the office, black leather at night. Colorful? Well… The head of HR continues: "We know it's not really your job, but could you imagine being the faces of our new recruiting campaign? Both take off their jackets and hang them over the backs of the conference chairs. Fuck, they spend every free minute in the gym. You secretly stroke Jack's bulge under the table.

The CEO is no longer so discreet. He stands up and sketches the campaign schedule on the flipchart with one hand. And has the other in his sweatpants. And his colleague is also kneading his bulge. The two of them are barely older than you. Certainly a few years younger than your fiancé Jack. The head of HR turns to you, looks you in the eye and licks his lips. The CEO leaves the flipchart and goes to Jack, stands behind him, runs his hand down his unbuttoned shirt and starts playing with Jack's nipple. A few seconds later, the Head of HR has lowered the blinds and dimmed the lights via the building control app.

After an intense interaction, Peter and Steven have given you the rest of the day off. You should celebrate your engagement. And the two of them have a lot planned for the rest of the day anyway.

Pic of your CEO and head of HR found @maxx-magnum

[yakool-foolio]

what would you say are the traits to keep in mind for preventing mischaracterization of Yuma?

It's worth clarifying before I go into this that these are traits I personally look out for whenever I plan to write for Yuma. This isn't a targeted critique at anyone else's interpretation of Yuma. Writers are free to write however they want for a character, and I just happen to stick closer to canon while still taking creative liberties with elements that I believe can be expanded upon. If anything, this is just a nice reminder for myself, while potentially giving advice to those looking for it. Anyways, I gotta actually answer the question!

I haven't written as much with Yuma as I've done for Vivia, Yakou, Yomi, and even Shinigami (I really need to write more for Hitman Zilch too augh). But I still like to have some things in mind just in case I ever decide to write for him. The main aspect of Yuma's characterization that I try not to slip up on is his amnesia! From what I've noticed, Yuma remembers what things are, but doesn't remember any experiences he has with those things. For example, he knows what detectives are, but he doesn't remember ever working as one, which extends over into all memories of the WDO. He knows what cooking is and remembers the basics of how to cook, but he can't remember any actual recipes that he's read, so he ends up making horrible food. In essence, it's like if a phone wasn't factory reset, but the photo album and downloaded apps were completely wiped, and only the basic apps automatically on the phone remain.

This next element isn't necessarily for Yuma specifically, but it's a very important part of his arc: don't forget Shinigami! She's here, she's there, she's everywhere! While she can turn invisible at will (as shown by chapter 0's aftermath), she's still chained to him throughout the entire game and loves to comment about almost everything going on around them. They tend to bicker in their shared thoughts, which is fun to capture when thinking about scenes for them. This is something that matters to me a lot since I'll be writing a lot of Shinigami for my Death Knight Yakou AU. I always want to keep in mind that Shinigami will most likely have something to say at anything that catches her eye, and whether Yuma (or Yakou in my case) ignores it, replies to it, or turns it into a full-on conversation depending on what's called for and if it'll add anything small to their characters or have some entertainment value.

Last but not least, Yuma isn't wholly innocent or exempt from indirectly killing culprits. Yuma actively decides to access the Mystery Labyrinths as a sort of self-defense mechanism. When he or his allies are at risk of being hurt or killed, he calls upon Shinigami, despite knowing that the culprits will be killed and that it won't ensure their safety. The only reason Yuma and his allies weren't killed in chapter 3 and 4 was because of good timing from others intervening. He may have killed in an act of self-defense and to better understand the conflict, but it doesn't mean he's clean of any blood on his hands, especially when he wanted to kill Icardi for the murder of Shachi. When he's angry, he's angry. He has shown that he can be enraged enough to want someone to die, so I like to have that stored in the back of my mind if ever I need to write for a wrathful Yuma that can and will choose violence if his back is to the wall and his allies are in danger.

[houseofbrat]

I’m so interested to hear your thoughts on the announcement HoB.

Unpopular opinion probably but me personally - I’m not buying it. It wouldn’t have taken this long to reveal cancer post her surgery date.

Nor do I buy that William is the hero that Kensington Palace is desperately trying to paint him as. It’s crass how their children are used as human shields in that statement.

It will be interesting to see the online reaction to this because the timeline on this story is fishy as hell and against Willy is hiding behind her skirt to save his reputation.

So I listened to Sky News for the announcement and the immediate commentary afterwards, which included an oncologist.

I think it's important to remember that she does NOT have an active cancer diagnosis, which people seem to be forgetting. Her own statement said "preventative chemotherapy," which as the oncologist on Sky News clarified is an adjuvant therapy. Adjuvant therapies are something to prevent cancer from returning, not active cancer treatment. The Sky News oncologist speculated that she was diagnosed with colon cancer, which has already been treated.

The sequence of events seems to be that she had "major abdominal surgery," which was probably on her colon. They did routine pathology on the tissue that was removed. Pathology usually takes seven to ten days to confirm. The pathology on an unspecified amount of tissue came back as cancerous.

They've known about this since February. She was not diagnosed with this in March. It seems to be more that she had some kind of emergency abdominal surgery in January--due to an intestinal blockage, perforation, or whatever. Recovery in the hospital for almost two weeks, which not even every colon cancer patient requires. They received the pathology results after she probably got out of the hospital. She started adjuvant therapy/"preventative chemotherapy" after her medical team determined it was appropriate post-surgery.

I know everyone is freaking out about CANCER, but she does not currently have cancer. Again, her own statement "cancer had been present." (Past tense!) She had some cancer that was removed during surgery, which may not have even been a surgery designed to remove cancer in the first place, and is now doing preventative therapy.

The problem with all of this is that they've known that she's had this SINCE FEBRUARY. It doesn't take two months for pathology to come back. That's where the PR problems are clearly evident. We all know when the kids go on break. They had a week long break in February, and they didn't announce this when they could have.

If they really had wanted to just wait until the kids were out of school for almost a month, then why didn't they create a strategy based on that weeks ago? Why release the problematic Mother's Day photo if you were planning on making an announcement when the kids are going to be out of school a few weeks later? Why not make a better strategy in dealing with the press? Why throw a fit about Carole & Kate being photographed on a public road? Why throw a fit over The Colonel's Review in June?

Oh, wait, all is supposed to be forgiven now because Kate HAD cancer.

HAD.

Past tense people.

King Charles has an ACTIVE cancer diagnosis. Kate's cancer has already been solved. It was solved back in January when it was removed during surgery. She is only doing preventative treatment currently to decrease the future risk.

But, hey, Kensington Palace and Catherine used the c-word (CANCER!), so all those previous fuckups should be forgiven.

[unrivalling]

"Just When Was Grell Sutcliff Alive?" Part 1: Establishing a Timeline

So as many of you know, I recently got into Black Butler (I know, about 17 years too late), and I'm almost caught up. However, I want to talk about how I'm still thinking about Vol 29 and some of the lore dropping Othello does at the beginning there.

Namely I'm fixated on possibly having a timeline for Grell's human life and death.

This wasn't intended to be a proper meta. It's been too long since I've written one, and there's probably important stuff I'm forgetting or don't know. But I wanted to write all of this down to get it out on the page, for posterity. Then it accidentally became a meta. Oops. Mild BB spoilers up to Vol 29, and heads up for some discussion of historical homophobia, transphobia, and state violence at the end. As well as a canon-typical suicide mention. I use she/her pronouns for Grell, but broadly interpret her as queer and transfeminine given the complexity of talking about identity in the time periods I'll be referencing (I use "queer" as a reclaimed, academic, blanket term). I'm also largely taking a Watsonian approach (Grell's experiences from her perspective), although a Doylist approach to Grell (as in relating to the author's intent and cultural context rather than the character's) is also really interesting one, but feels like more well trodden territory. With that out of the way, let's begin.

The info we have So. Something really interesting happened in Vol 29. We got a lot of great Undertaker backstory, but Othello said something relating to Grell that made me eyes emoji.

"Weren't you around 70 years ago?"

So, she never replies to this. But it seems highly plausible this means Grell was not a reaper 70 years before the current date in the manga. We don't quite know what the lag time is between someone dying and becoming a reaper, but I'm taking this to mean she had not died yet, as I assume she would have remembered an event like the one Othello describes. I believe this is the implication. Now, I am making some assumptions:

- To clarify, I know this is all guesswork. I'm just having fun with different possibilities. - Like I said, we don't know what the lag time is between someone dying and becoming a reaper (as in, the new state of being, not the job), and we don't know how long it takes to go from trainee to collections to senior. - That Grell was around 25 when she died. It's hard to tell anime character ages from 20-40 at a glance, but her design seems similar to me to characters that are in their 20s in other series. She could be older or younger, but I'm using that in lieu of a better option. It's not precise, but it'll get us in the ballpark anyway - Black Butler has a lot of anachronisms. However, Toboso is known to research things heavily and her changes are typically very purposeful (the purpose is usually "Rule of cool" and that's why we stan). I'm assuming historical events happening in BB to mirror the real world except where indicated otherwise. - I'm also assuming she's English. The names Grell and Grelle are both German in origin, but there are a lot of Germanic names in English and Sutcliff as a surname originated in Yorkshire. This is only based on a quick Google search--I could do more later, but this seems in line with Grell not being presented as "foreign" to England in any way in the series making her stand out in the same way her flamboyance or flirtation with men does. Establishing a range

The series takes place in 1888 and 1889. 70 years ago would put Undertaker's defection at 1818. If what Othello says is true, this means Grell became a reaper sometime after that date.

Let's establish the outlier possibilities first (again, assuming a pretty rapid transition from human death to becoming a reaper).

The earliest possible date Grell could have become a reaper: sometime in the following year, around 1819. This would put her birth at around 1794, and her death that year in 1819. This feels unlikely because it seems like she would have been exposed to people talking about Undertaker defecting since it was such a catastrophe, but who knows.

The latest possible date Grell could have become a reaper is 1887, which would place her birth at around 1862. This is massively improbable to the point of being impossible since she's a senior in collections and I assume that didn't happen in a year, but again, it's important for establishing a range. Basically, tldr, according to this framework, Grell became a reaper sometime between 1819 and 1887, which puts her human life (and death) in that timeframe as well. This would place her in the Georgian-Victorian eras, or possibly even the 8 year Regency period.

Will the Reaper OVA I've only talked about the manga so far since the 1st anime canon is wildly divergent in a number of ways, but if we include the Will the Reaper OVA, this would push things towards the earlier end of that timeline. I don't know much about the history of fashion (especially not middle and lower class dress), but it seems distinctly late 1700s/maybe early 1800s to me. Which if I'm reading right, would actually push Grell becoming a reaper back as far as the 1790s or 1810s, and would dispute the 1819 date implied by Vol 29. IF ANYONE KNOWS MORE ABOUT THE FASHION REFERENCES HERE, PLEASE FEEL FREE TO TELL ME. I WANT TO KNOW.

(Baby....Grell...furious and stark raving mad recently dead stray cat making it everyone's problem. I'm fine) This is subverted a little bit by the reaper outfits appearing more like Victorian businesswear, but Reapers always seem to be a few decades ahead of the world in terms of fashion and technology. My personal assessment is that the fashion in this is to make it immediately, visually clear that the OVA takes place in the Georgian rather than Victorian period, however that forces me to break my largely Watsonian approach for a Doylist one ("the animators perhaps decided it was necessary to show that time had passed since the events of the OVA"), but considering it came out so long before the lore drop in Vol 29, who knows.

I'm not inclined to take it as gospel truth for the manga canon, but considering Toboso did collaborate on that one, I think it at least worth talking about and considering as supplemental information.

I personally take this to support (but not solely uphold) the idea that "Grell became a reaper sometime during the Georgian period (1713-1837)", but again, grain of salt.

What would it mean for Grell to be a queer person in England in the 1700s and 1800s?

As far as I'm aware, we don't know anything about what Grell's life might have been like before becoming a reaper. Unless I'm missing something, that's a black box until Toboso reveals more.

But establishing this timeline gives us a great opportunity to consider the circumstances she would have lived under.

Understand that I'm not speaking in absolutes here, more "here are some interesting things I like to think about when considering why this character might be the way she is". I'm also not saying Toboso intended any of this to be read into Grell, but as readers I believe it's reasonable to assume Grell may have encountered these events or they might have impacted her unless stated otherwise. A brief list of things Grell would have been living under or around or could have been aware of. I want to do a part 2 talking about how these things might relate to someone like Grell, as well as talking about other major historical events not directly related to queer people (like, you know, the Napoleonic Wars), but this post is already feeling long enough: - The Buggery Act and the Offenses Against the Person Act, which made a variety of sexual acts punishable by death, including acts like anal sex. These laws were used to persecute people, usually queer men (although people who would today be called trans women and nonbinary people were also certainly prosecuted as well*), particularly in the 1700s and 1800s. I believe as of 1862 it was no longer punishable by death, but people still lived in fear of prison and hard labor (Oscar Wilde going to prison in 1895 being a famous later example). Here's an article about the men killed under the Buggery Act. *Trans men were not exempt from this, even if the specific legal and social threat was likely different. If memory serves, Dr. James Barry was jeopardized by rumors that he may have been Too Close to one of his cis male friends. - Molly houses. Generally considered places in the 1700s and 1800s where queer men gathered to socialize and find sexual partners. There was a lot of gender divergence in these spaces, and it's widely believed they were frequented by people who, again, today, could have a variety of gender identities. This article about molly houses and gender is really interesting. This article specifically talks about one in Whitechapel. - The Chevalier d'Eon. This one is just really interesting. While the Chevalier d'Eon was likely one of the first examples of legally recognized gender transition, this person was very famous and wealthy and the circumstances are buckwild. This video is highly watchable and informative. Grell

As a queer person and someone who likes history (I don't have any specific training, I just like learning about it), I already think a lot about what it must have been like to live during this specific time period, and Grell slots into that pretty well as a character to fixate on, since she dovetails with the other existing hyperfixation. By extension, I like using this information to think about what Grell's human life might have been like, and how those experiences could be aligned to explain a lot of her behavior, and seems especially poignant to me in light of all reapers having been people who committed suicide, another recent lore reveal in the manga. Maybe she lived closeted and lived in fear of discovery. Maybe she wasn't afraid! Maybe she was impulsive and endangered herself and others! Maybe she got blackmailed. What if she experienced her first taste of femininity at a molly house? Does she only go after men who reject her because she lived during a time where her affections being returned was intensely dangerous? Did she care about anyone? Is anyone she knew still alive? Thank you so much to everyone who read to the end! If I'm able to rally, I do want there to be a part 2 to this going more into detail about how it makes sense to me that these homophobic and transphobic societal pressures could have created a character like Grell.

[in-my-shifting-era]

A Knight In A Leather Jacket

Eddie Munson Fluff

Summary: After her brother Steve forgets to pick reader up like he promised Eddie comes do her rescue.

Warnings: none really this is just fluff. Steve being your brother if you don’t like that. Eddie is kinda a perv for like a second. Also some use of y/n.

Authors note: I’ve been back in an Eddie mood so here is this. Also sorry for not updating sooner I took a mental health break.💕

———————————————————————————————————

4:30pm. That’s the time you asked your brother Steve to pick you up from the auto shop to get your car fixed early the next morning. He promised he’d be there to pick you up. There wasn’t any Hellfire tonight so he didn’t have to pick Dustin up. Today is his day off from family video so that couldn’t be his excuse. What could Steve Harrington be doing that is so important he forgot to pick you up? That what you’ve been asking ever since you left the auto shop at 5:30pm, according to your watch.

You huffed in annoyance as you made your way home on foot. Your anger towards your brother would have subsided quickly if it wasn’t for the down pour of rain that started not even 5 minutes after you started your walk. You try to keep your pace as quick as you can without being in a full sprint.

The sound of a car approaching behind you makes you sigh lightly and move closer to the side of the road. Keeping your head down and hugging your rain soaked sweater you attempt to avoid any sort of eye contact. It almost seemed like it was working the car slowed down and the driver started to roll their window down. “This really isn’t walking weather you know.”

You knew that voice. You looked up to confirm your thoughts and where met with Eddie Munson’s infamous smirk and roll your eyes playfully. “Steve promised he’d pick me up at 4:30 at the auto shop. I gave up and started walking home at 5:30. This walk wasn’t my first choice Munson.” You would have graduated with the “freak” of Hawkins High if he had graduated his first time around. You and Eddie where never really friends in school. You weren’t really enemies either; there was just always this playful banter between you two.

You’re shocked when Eddie actually stops his van at your comment and opens the passenger door. “We’ll get in before you catch a cold in this rain and I’ll let you complain all about Steve being late as I drive you home.” You smile thankful and getting into his van as quickly as you can. You take a moment to gather yourself before you shit the passenger door and buckle quickly. “I apologize for getting your seats set.” You smile apologetically at Eddie as wet pieces of hair frame your face.

Eddie gives you a comforting look as he starts to drive again. “Don’t even worry about it. These seats have seen worse.” You give him a look and don’t even get a moment to respond before he’s clarifying his statement. “Uh like Dustin spilled a chocolate milkshake in here just last month. That’s kid is a menace.” You laugh softly and smile. “I wonder where he gets that from.”

Eddie acts completely offended at this statement. “You’re going to blame his actions on innocent old me? He hangs out with your brother as well. I think he gets his menace behavior from him.” You roll your eyes in fake annoyance at this. “No. He gets his menace behavior from you-” You poke Eddie’s upper bicep playfully. “He gets his sassy tone from Steve.”

Eddie laughs loudly at this and looks over at you. “The kid really does have a tone problem!Now that you say it though Steve does have the same tone at times.” Ignoring the say your heart flutters hearing Eddie laugh you give him a wide smile. “I’m glad we can agree on something Munson.” Eddie catches on to your smile and nods. “I think we can also agree your brother is a forgetful idiot sometimes.” Remembering why you’re in the car with Eddie makes you sigh annoyed. “And going home just means I have to hear all about why or how he forgot.”

As the car stops at a stop light Eddie looks over at you. “Why don’t you come over to my place? You can dry off and warm up. The. you won’t have to see Steve just yet.” You give him a slightly confused look. “Are you sure Eddie? This is my first time in your car. Now you’re going to take me home?” Eddie nods nonchalantly. “Why not? My uncle is working at the plant all weekend so having some company over would be nice actually.” You hide your blush with a nod. “I’d love to come over then. Thank you Eddie. For all of this.” Eddie gives you his sweet smile as an impatient car horn brings you both out of the sweet tender moment and signals Eddie to turn off towards the trailer park.

You pull into his driveway after a short drive from the light. You get out and run to the stairs of his trailer with him, he unlocks the door rather quickly. You work on keeping your shoes on his rug as you shiver gently the cold of the rain suddenly getting to you. “Uh if you want the bathroom is down the hall on the left. You can take a shower and I’ll leave some clothes outside the door for you to wear while I put yours in the dryer.” You smile and take off your jacket and leave it by your shoes. “I’ll probably just take the change of clothes if that’s okay.

Eddie nods and walks into the trailer more stoping at the basket of folded clothes on a dryer hidden in a closet by the kitchen. He grabs an old band tee for you and a clean pair of boxers since he doesn’t think he has pants that would fit you comfortably. You take the cloths with a thankful smile and make your way to the bathroom to change.

After locking the door you take off your rain soaked clothes and put on the boxes and faded band tee. Eddie’s scent fills your senses. Some how the dork makes old leather, weed smoke and cheap cologne smell comforting. The boxers looking more like shorts on you as they peak out just under the band tee. You run your wet hair through your fingers to try and tame it. Once you feel more presentable you step out with your wet clothes in hand and hand them to Eddie who is still by the washer.

Eddie places them in the dryer and starts them turned to you to smile. “If you can reach go pick a mug for some tea or hot chocolate to warm you up.” Eddie nods to the living room where you see mugs lining the walls. You ignore the smirk on his face and the blush it brings to your cheeks as you walk over and browse your options. When you see a grumpy bear Care Bears mug you know that’s what you want. It happens to be just out of your reach and you wince.

You see Eddie take notice of this and laugh from his place in the kitchen. “Need help sweetheart?” You ignore his comment and look around for anything you could stand on to get the mug. After a moment of searching you see Eddie make his way towards you and think quick in your feet and go on your tip toes giving Eddie’s a view of his boxers on your hips. Eddie stops in his tracks seeing You struggle to reach the mug. You take his moment of being distracted and gracefully change your position and get the mug. You turn around and smile triumphantly at Eddie. “No tough guy I got my mug!”

Eddie snaps his eyes from where they laid on his boxer to meet your gaze. “Grumpy Bear doesn’t really suit you sweetheart.” You roll your eyes playfully and pout up at him not amused by his comment. “I stand corrected. That was a good impression the mug’s yours.” You hand him the mug the same playful glare on your face. “Hot chocolate please.”Eddie takes the mug gently and gives you a fake salute and marches back to the kitchen and starts on your coco.

You sit at the kitchen island and watch Eddie make the two hot cocoas. He hums lightly to himself as he gets the whipped cream out and tops off your mugs before handing you yours. “For m’lady.” You take your mug happy and sip it slowly. Eddie sips his out of his Garfeild mug. “That mug suits you Eddie. Grouchy but lovable.” You smirk playfully as you take another sip. Eddie narrows his eyes at you. “I’m not grouchy.”

You place your mug down. “That glair you have is telling me other wise grouchy pants.” You go to have another sip of coco when Eddie takes you mug from you. “Take it back and you’ll get your mug back.” You huff and reach over the counter for the mug making Eddie pull it back and stand away from the counter with it in hand. “Take it back and the mug is yours.” You huff stubbornly and walk around the island and right towards his in an attempt to get your mug from his grasp. Eddie sips his mug and holds yours above his head.

“Eddie you called me Grumpy and I didn’t hold your mug hostage. Give me my hot chocolate back!” You stomp your foot like an annoyed toddler not getting their way. Eddie keeps your mug high and puts his mug down. “No I was impressed with your grumpy bear impression.” You roll your eyes. “Eddie it’s going to get cold! Fine you’re not grouchy.” Eddie hands you your mug immediately. “Now wasn’t that easy sweetheart.” You huff and sip your now warm coco.

You jump when a pounding is heard at Eddie a trailer door. “Munson! Did you pick up my sister? Dustin told me he saw her in your Van and she hasn’t made it home! ” You look at Eddie quickly then towards the door. “He sounds kinda grumpy don’t you think?”

[lyrenminth]

NUMBER ONE PICK

N/A: this is kinda like enemies to lovers. You are an athlete, the story happens in college. It will have a second part because I don't like long posts lol

Joe fucking Burrow.

Ugh.

Why couldn't he wear that stupid helmet everywhere? Or why couldn't he move to another university? Stupid football players, stupid football, and stupid administration.

Your volleyball team was doing fine, the media started noticing your progress and decided to made a short documentary about the players, but since LSU football team was doing extremely well since Joe Burrow arrived, the school media decided your team wasn't interesting/engaging enough and cancelled the short documentary.

You were excited, you were happy someone was paying attention to the effort put in by all the girls. You had seven wins in a row, come on. So, when they gave you the news, you were pissed. It ruined your day. Bad.

It didn't help that you were sharing a class with him, and after an important game where the tigers won everyone was sucking his cock. And he was enjoying it.

His stupid cocky ass.

That documentary should be about the volleyball team, not Joe Burrow. You didn't talk to him so much, you had friends in common but never were at the same time in the same place for different reasons. Besides, you didn't like how everyone worship him. Yes, he was good. The same with the other one hundred athletes in college. And yes, you were damn salty.

So, when your friend invited you to the party to celebrate the win, you said no. She was taking it better than you. Everyone in the team was taking it in a better way. They prompted you to go, saying Joe wouldn't be there because he didn't like people. A fucking lie, of course. What convinced you was the alcohol, you need to forget for a couple of hours.

The party was nice. There were students-athletes and members of sororities. At the beginning you didn't see Joe and thought he wasn't there, but when you went to the garden in a hidden corner to take fresh air he appeared like the fucking Houdini.

Great.

"Hey, you are y/n?"

You nodded, holding your cup with both hands, trying not to look so much his face because for the heaven and hell, he was hot. Everyone knew that, it was a reason why girls loved to show them tits to him. He was tall, well-built, a jawline which could cut your veggies and his laid-back, confident personality.

"I'm Joe Burrow" he said. You almost roll your eyes. "Yeah, I know" he read your expression, knowing you weren't happy with his presence.

"So, I just want to tell you I'm sorry for the doc" he explained. He didn't sound drunk at all. You were drinking but still thinking clearly.

"Yeah, me too" You couldn't hide the bitterness in your voice. Gosh, people didn't understand how important was for you, for the team. Everyone said "it just a documentary no one is going to see" and that hurt because you were working so hard and nobody cared.

"I didn't say or did anything if that's what you were thinking" he added "I'm just good"

His last comment sent you to hell. What the fuck?

"Yeah, and we are fucking trash although we are in a winning strike"

"I didn't mean it that way" he clarify, bothered after hearing your harsh tone.

"Yeah, I don't care" you took a deep breath realizing how rude you were. Yes, it wasn't Joe's fault, he was an exceptional quarterback and you only wanted to fight a wall "Sorry, I didn't mean to be rude. It's just frustration"

"I see" he said quietly.

"What does it feel that everyone around you thinks you are great, cool and hot?" you asked, regretting it a few moments later.

"Do you think am I hot?" he said, amused.

"That wasn't the question"

"Um, I don't know. it is who I am" he shrugged.

"Well, yeah, thank you for the clarification. You deserved it though" you replied, referring to the doc.

"I mean, yeah, but you played well. I think is unfair for you and the team" You raised your eyebrow, not expecting that answer from a guy like him. "I mean, you can't avoid being popular" you stated.

"I don't like it as you suppose" he answered, looking around. A blonde girl was smiling at him "I just want to play"

"Well, doesn't matter what my opinion is. Congrats"

After that talk, you realized he wasn't such a prick. In fact, he was kinda weird. Not in a bad way, but you could tell, he didn't receive so much attention before. Also, the perfectionist and competitive traits pushed him to give his all. LSU did better not only for him but other key players. And you didn't want to get to invested, but Joe started following you, talking to you in class, sitting next to you. Weird stuff which made you uncomfortable because the last thing you wanted was to be labeled as his girlfriend when you were an athlete too. It didn't help the comments he used to make when you were lonely:

"You help me to be better, to improve my game"

"You are more competitive than me, I like it"

"I could learn from you too"

"My coach says you are the best in your position, I believe that's true"

You didn't know when your hatred vanished; when your walls fell down.

"You should sleep with him" Mindy, your friend and teammate said "He is the moment, he is hot and soon-to-be number one pick in the draft"

"No" You had a flashback of his back muscles, the long thighs, the pecs, and the dreamy booty. How many dreams have you had about kissing him below the ear?

"Not every day you sleep with a number one pick" she argued.

"Mindy no" you push the lustful thoughts aside.

"He likes you"

"Hell no" you replied, feeling uneasy.

"Hell yes" she said, grinning like a damn maniac "You are clueless and in deep denial. The poor boy follows you like a lost puppy. The other day I saw a girl trying to kill you with her glare when you were speaking to him. Those bitches dream to be you"

"You know that I have my goals too"

"Oh, come on! You didn't like volleyball either, you did it for the scholarship. Are you thinking of having a career?" Not really. Mindy knew your well "Or are you scared you like him as he likes you?"

"He is gonna be famous, and I wouldn't know how to handle that" you confessed. College and NFL were different lives. "You let it flow, baby" she said "And also, do you think he is going to let you go away?"

No, Joe always worked hard for what he wanted.

The thought made your cheeks red and your knees weak. But, there was this unnamed relationship, very close to a couple. He supported you, listened to you and you reciprocated. It was easy to do because...well, because you liked him too.

You took a deep breath, thinking about all the reasons why you should not date him. Stick to them, even if it hurts.

-----

Joe got nominated for the Heisman.

He invited you to the awards. Everybody thought you had something going on. I was strange since slept in a sexual way (once you got wasted and slept together) and kissed a couple times. You were going crazy. What Joe Burrow wants from you?

It was time to put your big girl pants and asked him directly. So you invited him over, and he arrived after practice, freshly showered. Joe was happy to be there, and bought you a Subway on the way since you told him you haven't eat. It was those actions what cause confusion and ache. You needed to get the thing straight.

"Do you want to eat, first?" He said offering the Subway.

"No, later" he raised an eyebrow because you rarely rejected eating "I want to talk about us. I know you invited me to the Heisman ceremony and I would like to go, but I want to be clear that I'm not willing to wasted my time if we are not a couple. I'll go to the ceremony as your girlfriend nothing less"

Joe wasn't the only taking decisions. You wanted you piece of cake too. You were serious about this, after thinking so much about the pros and cons, the lifestyle of Joe scared you, but with a good support system you should be ok. You talked with your parents, friends and strangers on internet. Again, you were going crazy for this relationship.

"Ok" he said, and you almost threw a pillow at him. "Ok, that's all?" You asked skeptical.

"Yeah, I mean is weird you asked because in my mind we have been dating for a while, but I'm willing to go and said to the world you are my girl officially"

"In your mind?" he shrugged, a shy smile on his lips "Joe, wtf? I was dating you without knowing. Dude, we haven't had sex yet" his laugh made you stare at him "What?"

"From now and on, we have so much time to do what you want. Kiss, fuck, watch movies. Whatever you want" he said, happy. You noticed that he was fully committed. He had that determined expression he used to have before important games.

"I'm confused" he got closer to you and kissed you. You were getting used to his soft lips. Needless to say, he was a good kisser.

"Don't be, you're mine, I'm yours, everything is fine"

[dappledpaintbrush]

Are you the one who wrote 'A Jester's Lament'?

What inspired you to write it? (41 chapters!)

Oh no no no, I’d HATE to be that weirdo who wrote 400 pages worth of mario fanfiction! haughty laughter is then interrupted by 500 drawings of Lament Dimentio falling out of my pocket

Tbh what inspired me was. Myself? Weirdly enough? I mean of course SPM being my biggest interest was absolutely part of the reason why it’s so long and why I wrote it to begin with. But what specifically sparked the story of AJL was the fact there was an extremely specific type of Dimentio redemption story I was looking for. Of course, I’m not saying AJL is the first of its kind or something because it most definitely is not lmao😭😭 But there were just some things I preferred in an AU that tries to redeem Dimentio, and after searching for a while for, again, that extremely specific story, I thought, “DUDE JUST MAKE IT YOURSELF💀💀💀💀” and so I did. And a lot of people just ???? happened to like it??? :

Even though story length was one of my specific wants, I highly doubt I could’ve completed 41 chapters without the immense support I received. I genuinely cannot thank you guys enough. Seriously, if you like a fic, I highly highly reccomend commenting. You have no idea how much that means to writers 🤍

I’m putting this under a read more so I don’t clog people’s feed, but if anybody’s curious, some of my specific wants were:

- Length. I needed this fic to be almost unbearably long. I needed people to say GODDD DAAMMMNN when they looked at the word count.

- Dimentio somehow getting more unredeemable before he got redeemed (idk if I fully accomplished that, but I tried) (it’s hard to get worse than the complete annihilation of life) (I just tried not to purposefully write him in a likable way early on in the story)

- Dimentio dying the same amount of times he killed Luigi in the game

- Dimentio in general getting shit absolutely rocked

- Luigi not being a doormat, ESPECIALLY SINCE DIMENTIO ABUSED HIM

- DIMENTIO. BEING. IN. CHARACTER. THIS IS NOT JUST SOME SILLY GOOFY CLOWN!!! HE IS EVIL!!! HE TRIED TO KILL EVERY SINGLE ENTITY THAT HAS EVER EXISTED, DEAD AND ALIVE. HE IS SUPPOSED TO BE TERRIFYING AND SCARY!!! yes he’s naturally charming, write him as such, BUT NEVER FORGET THE THREAT HE IS!!!!

- Dimentio having a backstory that’s emo enough to explain the person he became but not emo enough to be his main source of redemption via pity if that makes sense. I think I achieved this? But of course that’s subjective, and looking back there were better ways to go about it. Basically what I tried to do is give him a good childhood with loving parents- minus the “accident” of course- and have Dimentio himself clarify in Chapter 15:

Basically: the loss of his family and the shit he went through definitely played a role. However, instead of a Blumiere-like “My loved one(s) died, now all worlds are without meaning and deserve to be destroyed,” Dimentio’s grief triggered a very deadly greed that did not revolve around the ones he lost. Blumiere’s motivation for destruction, including himself, was purely the loss of Timpani. Dimentio’s motivation for destruction, excluding himself, was, well, himself. For once, Dimentio wanted to earn, not lose. Making Dimentio have an understandable backstory but be “less sympathetic” than his counterpart, Blumiere, was important to me during the creation of AJL. But this gets extremely complicated because something like hmm uh idk erm MASS MURDER is impossible to truly make sympathetic. Regardless of intention, Dimentio and Blumiere did the exact same thing. Regardless of intention, Dimentio and Blumiere were both selfish. You can’t exactly destroy life itself in a non-selfish way. Both characters are equally unredeemable (or… equally redeemable, technically). Strip their actions down for their bones, and all you’ll see is two characters that tried to ERASE EXISTENCE. Sure, you can FEEL more sympathy for one than compared to the other, but feelings are subjective. Facts are objective. And the fact is, Dimentio and Blumiere attempted mass murder. You see why this is difficult to explain and even more difficult to write? I have a headache. God speed everybody

- More shit I’m probably forgetting

- Picture of a cat I found

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

People are forgetting something important. Everyone has a right to write what they want, and/or state an opinion on their own blog. The nuance is that there is a way to do it. There is a difference in these next 2 sayings:

« I don’t like to drive. It just doesn’t make me feel good and I don’t see the point of it. »

vs

« I don’t like to drive, can we all just fucking stop driving? As if that even made you cool! Since when is driving something that gave you importance? Are we even living in the same world?? »

In both these statements, an opinion is stated. In the second example however, the tone is condescending, almost belittling. That is all the difference. That is why people reacted the way they did. The opinion was never wrong. The way it was stated was. As if people who did not share your opinion, were less intelligent. That is why they are upset. Not because you don't like one fanfic trope.

I am not writing this to stir drama even more. I geniunely like you and your blog, I am just trying to explain what I feel is the reason for the drama around your reblog. Maybe you can understand where others are coming from and why they got upset and hurt from your reblog.

Hello. Thank you for the message, and thank you for keeping it civil. I appreciate that!

I had considered waiting until I returned from my hiatus to respond to this, but there are a few things that have immediate relevance that I feel are worth pointing out.

When responding colloquially to a post, as I had in that instance, I tend to type how I talk - it can come across as a bit abrasive, but my intent was never to upset anyone. I was just venting, not suggesting anyone stop doing what they are doing. More of a “this really boils my piss” rather than “don’t ever do this or I will tar and feather you”.

My mistake was in replying to a user that had reblogged my response - I wanted to clarify my intent, but hadn’t realised that this was a person who has previously been involved in spreading hate about me on this website.

Their responses to me grew increasingly hostile, and as soon as I realised who they were I blocked them. But it was too late.

You see, it doesn’t matter what I say, this person and the people they associate with will find any excuse to drag me. I could say the sky is a lovely blue colour today, and their response would be “oh my fucking god, she has a problem with all other colours!” When you’re determined to hate someone then nothing will stop you. That post was effectively a red rag to a bull.

I don’t really mind that they are publicly being nasty about me - I am an advocate for freedom of expression and it is their right to call me a cunt, etc. I may not like what they have to say, but I will defend with my life their right to say it.

What I do have a problem with is them suggesting I am xenophobic/racist. That is defamation of character, that is libel, and you can land yourself in serious legal trouble with that sort of chat.

To clear things up, this stems from my scepticism over the initial announcement of Ewan attending CCXP. I refused to believe it was true until it was officially confirmed, which I think is a rational mindset to have, but apparently that equates to me hating Brazilians?! Let’s be clear, I’d have reacted the same way to Ewan being announced for a con anywhere in the world, because he has previously refused to do them.

Sorry this ended up being much longer than I anticipated! And to clarify, this is not an invitation for people to send hate to the people I’m talking about, so please don’t.

[goddessofroyalty]

Fandom: Final Fantasy VII

Verse: Cloud is the Remnant’s carrier

Opened the scribble book to write another thing and found this in there that I kept meaning to type up and forgetting to. It’s also been long enough where I feel like this isn’t in the spoilers territory (which it still kind of isn’t because of how the game actually ended vs this being if Zack’s universe did get merged with the main one)

Tags: mpreg, omegaverse, implications of science fuckery

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

It’s weird returning to Elymira’s house after everything.

Aerith and Cloud aren’t upstairs comatose in their recovery from what happened to them. Instead they are right there in the living room – Aerith leaning on Cloud to whisper something in his ear that makes his eyes go wide and glance up at the stairs and back at Zack.

She seems to know what happened in the alternative timelines before they collapsed in on each other so Zack figures she is just telling Cloud about how Zack looked after them both. He pays it no mind how she puts her finger in front of her mouth in clear indication for Cloud not to say anything before grabbing hold of Tifa’s arm and leading her upstairs. She probably wants to show Tifa something in her room. Five years ago Zack wouldn’t have assumed the two of them would be friends but they seem to almost share thoughts at times with how close they are.

It’s nice to know Aerith isn’t as alone anymore.

“Thank you again for looking after my Marlene,” Barret says to Elmyra, drawing Zack back into the conversation as Cloud leans against one of the walls.

“It’s no bother,” Elmyra says. “She’s a sweet girl. A pleasure to look after. Unlike some other children.”

She looks over at Cloud at the comment and Spike just shrugs his shoulders not even meeting her gaze. Zack feels, far from the first time, like he’s missing out on something important.

“Well what do you expect with where they came from?” Barret jokes. “Ain’t no way they weren’t gonna’ be handfuls.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Elmyra says with the same awkward humor and Zack is about to ask what it is they are talking about when footsteps rush down the stairs.

“Daddy!” Marlene calls, throwing herself into Barret’s arms and the tough guide façade of his immediately melts as he wraps his daughter into a tight hug.

“Oh my baby girl I’ve missed you so much,” Barret practically sobs. And it’s sweet to see just how much he cares about his daughter.

The two eventually separates and Marlene goes over to where Cloud is. Waiting for him to kneel down to her height so she can talk to him at mostly the same leave.

“I made sure they were safe,” she says.” Nobody came after them.”

A flicker of surprise crosses Cloud’s face before it settles on a serious one.

“Thank you.”

Marlene nods at it before returning to her dad. She clings onto his leg before finally noticing Zack.

“Who are you?”

“What do you mean who am I?” Zack asks before remembering this isn’t the Marlene he lived with while waiting for Aerith and Cloud to wake up.

He kneels down in front of her because while she may not be the Marlene he remembers she clearly also likes when people talk to her at her level instead of down at her.

“I’m Zack Fair,” he says holding out his hand. “And, well, I don’t know if you will understand but I come from a world where things happened differently.”

“And you knew me?” Marlene asks, curious but firm.

“Sure did! I was kind of like you’re… uncle Zack.” Or close enough to it. And he kind of likes the idea of being called that.

“Uncle huh?” Cloud says and Zack’s a bit surprise he has any comment on it. “Want to meet your nephews then?”

“My nephews?” Zack doesn’t remember there being any other kids staying with Elmyra and even with all the timeline confusion he’s pretty sure he would.

Aerith and Tifa returning downstairs clarifies some of his confusion. Aerith carrying one crying silver-haired baby and Tifa two, more settled, ones.

“Wha-?”

“They’re mine,” Cloud says as he takes the baby off Aerith so she can relieve Tifa of one of the other two. His tone short in the way he talks when he doesn’t want more questions asked. “Hojo.”

“I-“ Zack doesn’t know if Hojo is a better explanation than the one he had immediately thought of when told that Cloud had three silver-haired babies. “Shit Spike.”

“No swearing around the kids!” Barret snaps like this situation doesn’t deserve much stronger curses than shit.

If Zack could he would revive even piece of shit scientist just to kill them himself. Hell, he might see if Aerith can pull some timeline strings so he can go kill some other version of the fucker to see if it will make him feel slightly better at not being able to prevent the asshole from ever getting his hands on Cloud.

Cloud just shrugs.

Zack supposes that’s the only response to give. What else is there to do with three babies clearly made from Sephiroth’s DNA? Give them back to Shinra for whatever lackeys of Hojo’s that are left alive to poke at and try and turn into the next generation of Shinra Super SOLDIERs?

“Okay.” It’s not like Zack’s gonna’ just leave them for Cloud to deal with alone even if it’s clear the others don’t plan on it either. “I’m not sure what to do with a baby but I’ll be the best uncle around.”

And maybe doing that will relieve him of his guild for everyone he failed.

[onigiri-dorkk]

I’ve been wanting to make something like this for a long time. When going back through the timelines of things the biggest thing that hit me was: 145 generations IS A LONG ASS TIME!!!

Think about how many branches of Ymir’s blood have been created in that time to have filled the Walls of Paradis. The Paths tree is known to be a visualization of just how many descendants of Ymir have come to existence.

And THAT ^, my friends, is the same visualization we can and should have regarding descendants of the Ackermans considering Ackermans were created during King Fritz’s lifespan during his Titan DNA experiments immediately after Ymir Fritz died/was eaten by her children. (Ackerman line began when Subjects of Ymir did!)

The Ackermans are likely more widespread than expected. It wasn’t until the 145th King Karl Fritz that they BEGAN to be persecuted. Meaning before persecution, Ackerbabies everywhere multiplying and spreading.

And guess what!? They weren’t totally killed off. It says that the remaining Ackermans, once experiencing persecution, avoided telling their children and children’s children about the world before the Walls. So generation after generation the Ackerman’s grew up without knowledge of world before walls NOR of their Ackerman/Titan DNA descent. (It was a way of making Ackerman’s ignorant to what made royalty/nobles afraid of them… just make them forget over time)

Meaning two important things:

1) There are absoluuuuutely more unknown people of Ackerman lineage around the world who simply don’t even know they have that DNA. If they didn’t know they were Ackerman’s, they wouldn’t be pursued. (I would be interested to read about someone who doesn’t turn into a Titan, only to find out they are an Ackerman!)

2) Levi and Mikasa are DEFINITELY from separate branches that are SOOOOO many generations off from each other. Literally broken off during the 145 generation gap.

We know that Mikasa’s father likely did not even know he was an Ackerman, meaning he is a product of the generations of one of the side branches who did not even learn about their ancestry or the pre-Walls history. (Again, the only branch that DID know was Kenny/Levi’s, who was the Head/main branch!) They painted Mikasa’s dad as such an ordinary human and he never had his powers awakened either.

Isayama’s lineage tree illustrates this so clearly and we’ve KNOWN THIS! Mikasa’s branch breaks off DURING THE 145 GENERATION GAP preceding Kenny’s Grandfather (Levi’s great grandfather).

And AGAIN…

To reiterate it even more?

Canon AoT recognizes that Mikasa and Levi merely share a name. A name that connects them generations and generations and generations ago, almost like a sub-race. Not a small family.

We also know how Isayama emphasizes the power of lineage and bloodlines in general. Come on: Subjects of Ymir! They’re all connected by Ymir and though they share maybe small % of DNA to their ancestor, that is more than enough to turn them into full Titans. Marleyans are Marleyans who hold onto ancient tales of Marley trampled by Eldia; Eldians the same. So Ackermans created by Titan DNA experiments are similar too. By only having any small amount/percentage of Titan/Ackerman DNA, does this allow them to access this inhuman Titan strength. Ackerman’s are emphasized by Isayama to be closer to something like a sub-race of Eldians, just like Subjects of Ymir are a sub-race to Eldians too.

To further clarify this?

If Levi and Mikasa were actually cousins or uncle as 99% of the fandom claims, wouldn’t they claim familial bonds with each other immediately after finding out about their shared ancestry? They both have literally lost all their family. They know they are the last of their lineage. Why didn’t Isayama portray them as family? MAYBE BECAUSE THEY ARE NOT FAMILY and they know they are simply part of the sub-race.

Ok, I’m done for now LOL. I am regurgitating all of these thoughts to make sure I can communicate it clearly to my husband when this PowerPoint happens 😂😂😂😂

LEVI AND MIKASA ARE LIKELY LESS RELATED THAN EVERYONE IN THE DAMN WALLS

[autisticlancemcclain]

“So let me get this straight,” Lance says, squinting. “The crystal we almost died for is somehow nearly out of juice, and until we can get a replacement, we have to shut down less important Castle systems?”

“That’s the short of it, yes.”

“And the translator is one of these systems,” Hunk clarifies.

Allura nods, looking frustrated. “Yes. The translators, luxury heating, power to nonessential rooms, anything we don’t need to keep the ship running will be shut down for the three quintants it will take us to arrive at the nearest Balmera.”

“Oh that’s not nearly as bad as I thought,” Lance comments flippantly. “I figured we’d have to shut down running water and lights and stuff like that.”

“Lance,” Pidge says slowly, “we won’t have translators.”

Lance looks at her funny. “Okay? I don’t understand the problem.”

“What do you mean, you don’t see the problem? What about the language barrier? It’s not like you can speak Altean!”

In a millisecond, Lance’s expression shifts from confused to guarded and angry.

“Of course I can speak Altean,” he says angrily. “I know you guys forget that I’m not a pure dumbass, but I’m just as capable as the rest of you!”

“Lance,” Shiro interjects gently, “I think there’s been a misunderstanding. None of us think you’re a dumbass. We know how smart you are, how beyond capable you are —”

“Then why do you think I’m too stupid to learn the same Altean the rest of you did? Why —” he demands.

“Lance, none of us can speak Altean,” Keith interrupts bluntly.

Lance blinks. “What? How?”

“Okay, hold on,” Hunk says, making a timeout sign. “Lots of confusion going on here, so I’m gonna clarify. Lance, no one thinks your dumb. Promise. We tease, but none of us think any lesser of you, and if our jokes are going too far we’ll stop them immediately. Also, we’re shocked that you know Altean because aside from Pidge, who’s been doing that occasional class stuff, the rest of us have been relying on the translators.”

“But what did you do when your lion cut off your translators?”

“My lion didn’t… do that,” Hunk responds after a moment. “Did anyone else’s lion cut off their translators?”

Everyone else shakes their heads, just as bewildered as Hunk.

“Why did Blue cut off your translators?” Allura asks curiously.

“So I could learn Altean…?”

“How the hell would preventing you from understanding important conversations help you learn Altean?” cuts in Pidge.

The defensiveness that had gone away when Hunk clarified the miscommunication starts to return in the tense curl the Cuban’s shoulders, the clench of his fist.

“Blue knows what she’s doing,” Lance says protectively.

Pidge holds up her hands. “I’m not saying she doesn’t!” she adds hastily. “It just seems like it would be remarkably difficult to learn a language from being forced to just listen to conversation you don’t understand.”

“Oh, it’s not that hard,” Lance replies, some of the prickliness leaving his posture again. “I mean, you guys responded in English, so I got the gist of the conversation. That’s more than I had learning English when I got to the Garrison, so it was honestly kind of simple. It only took a couple months to get mostly fluent. Plus, Blue would tell me if I missed something important.”

Surprisingly, it’s Keith who responds to that first. “Holy shit, dude,” he says eyebrows raised, “that’s insanely impressive. It took you two freaking months to learn a whole-ass alien language? A really difficult one, at that?”

There are noises of agreement among the team, nods and shocked looks abundant.

Lance flushes under the praise. “Well, it’s not that impressive,” he dismisses. “I’m sure if you guys put your minds to it you could learn much faster than I did!”

“I don’t think that’s true, my dear,” Coran chides, speaking up for the first time. “Besides the fact that you are very talented with words and language in general, no one else took the initiative! I must confess that I am ashamed that I did not take the time to learn any of your Terran languages.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t call it ‘initiative’,” Lance mumbles. “I didn’t ask Blue to cut off the translators.”

Pidge tilts her head, calculating. “I want you to be completely honest.” Lance nods his assent. “If Blue hadn’t turned off your translator, would you have still learnt Altean?”

Lance hesitates a moment, but eventually nods his head. “Yeah,” he admits eventually. “I’d feel bad if five of us spoke one language and two of us didn’t. Also, I thought you guys were also learning Altean, and I have serious FOMO issues.”

Pidge snorts, punching Lance in the arm. “Yeah, you do. Dork.”

Shiro, sensing an impending tussle, takes steps toward them, placing a kind hand on Lance’s shoulder.

“FOMO or not,” he said warmly, “I’m really glad you did this, Lance. There’s no one else I trust more to translate for us than our resident sharpshooter.”

[sasster]

Stories yet to Unfold

[Google Doc!]

--

He's surprised, you think, to see you standing before him. In his church. Or at least he would be if he had the capacity to express as much. You always wondered how the Father was able to navigate his emotions on an internal basis. Even when you watched the world through his eyes, past or future, the emotions felt muted. As though Father Roatus operated independently of them, on logic alone. Forget that, now is not the time to be analyzing him, didn't you come here to get help?

Ailzea watches you with steady eyes, obviously studying you just the same. It's easy for him to understand life restored at his hands, with rules he has known since he was a child, harder to consider acts of necromancy performed by outside forces. Is he fascinated with your predicament?

Maybe he doesn't have the answers you are looking for.

What answers are you looking for?

   "Do you feel any different?" He finally asks, his disturbance of the silence a welcome distraction from the pool of agony your thoughts had become. The gentleness of his voice grounds you almost instantly, but it also invites a dull ache to radiate from your heart.

You miss Thanat.

Ailzea does not rush you for an answer, he watches quietly as you adjust to the new weight of a heavy heart.

   "No, uhm." You pipe up with a voice smaller than it's ever been. "Well. At first I couldn't… My powers felt like they were gone. I thought I couldn't use them anymore…"

   "And now?" 

   "Just in my dreams…" You feel broken. “My dreams are visions.”

He nods his understanding.

   "I imagine you were not doing much speaking in the beginning, either."

   "No."

   "Higher functions often take a longer time to be returned, Orfuse. This is normal." He reassures you. There is such a kindness in his eyes, it's almost jarring that the expression does not reach beyond them.

It's a little uncanny.

The Father must sense your relief, he straightens up and folds his hands behind his back. It is only in that moment that you realize he'd adopted more relaxed body language when you appeared to be in distress. 

   "While I do not possess all of the information regarding your revival," His gaze sweeps over you like a blanket, you just about wish you could wrap yourself up in it. "It appears to me that you have been returned to us intact."

   "Father Roatus," You start slowly, gripping at the edge of your jacket to keep yourself grounded as you search for the words that will articulate your fears. "What if I am unable to die now?"

   "My child," says the man that is nearly one hundred sweeps your junior. "You are worried over your mortality?"

Again you nod. It is one of the many worries that make your shoulders feel heavy. You'd come to terms with mortality, your death, by the time you were seven sweeps old.

Eternity is much scarier.

   "Is it my help that you seek in that regard?"

   "I think so? If you don't mind. I'm not trying to take advantage of you. I know your powers are…I just. I'm just."

Ailzea raises a hand, perhaps sensing that you would not stop your apologetic rambling without outside intervention. 

   "You need not explain yourself. I ask only to clarify."

   "Will you help me? Is that okay?"

He does not answer right away, letting another comfortable silence settle between the two of you as he considers. At least you hope he is considering it.

   "Are you not worried that it is too soon?"

   "Too soon?" You ask helplessly, deflating a little.

Obviously he is not obligated to use his powers for you, but a flat out no will have been more satisfactory than what was offered.

   "Orfuse, how long has it been since your return?"

   "Uhm. Just a few weeks." Your voice cracks. Has so much time passed already?

   "I see. May I be honest with you, my friend?" He is leaning toward you again, the pity hiding behind his eyes betrays the neutrality he expresses.

Oh, poor pitiable Orfuse! He is always finding himself in situations. Poor stupid Orfuse! Doesn't even know if he is immortal now. Poor self important Orfuse, beating himself up because he isn't getting his way.

Grow up, Orfuse.

At least he called you friend. 

   "Go ahead." Defeat weaves itself into your voice.

He almost frowns.

   "I think that you have spent enough time and energy focusing on what is out of your control."

You sigh, he does not relent. 

   "How much of your life did you enjoy? What of it were you present for?"

How gentle a chiding, he even rests a hand on your shoulder. It isn't until he gives it a firm squeeze that you find yourself wrapping your arms around him.

Ailzea hugs you back.

   "You will not find peace worrying after the past, nor will it come with fretting the future to come." He pauses, you are so focused on the steadiness of his voice it catches you off guard.

   "It is enough to just simply be."

   "I – I know."

This is not what you expected when you made the decision to visit the House of Restoration.

Do you know what you expected?

You let out a shaky sigh.

   "I know."