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writersmorgue · 2 months

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Febuwhump Day 17 - Hostage Situation

Inspired by this prompt

TWs in tags || read on Ao3 || wc: 996

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Katsuki watches in horror as the villain raises the gun to Denki’s temple.

The man is halfway to death’s door already, having taken a severe beating in the battle that led them here. He can’t survive much more, definitely not a shot to the head.

“Hold the fuck on,” He curses his voice for wavering, the villain’s eye glinting when he realizes he hit a sore spot, “don’t do any of that shit. What are you attacking the Commission for?”

Katsuki tries to keep his hands steady, pleading no sparks set off and freak out the villain.

The man chuckles, raising an eyebrow, “So quick to negotiate with me, dearest Ground Zero? I thought you’d be tougher than that. I’m sure this pathetic boy is nothing more than a pebble under your boot.” He nudges the gun harder into Denki’s head, smearing blood from an earlier wound.

Denki winces, eyes fluttering. Katsuki sneers, shifting his weight, “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Oh,” The villain takes the bait, “I need to know the location of Overhaul’s little doll. Unfortunately, the heroes I asked before weren’t too keen on letting me search for her freely, so I figured I’d go to the source. They probably keep the lab rat in the lab, correct?”

Katsuki’s jaw flexes at the mention of Eri. The young girl was under Aizawa’s care and had been since she was freed, but that was top-secret information, and no one so motivated had come looking.

“So!” The villain jolts Katsuki out of his thoughts, “Tell me her location and let me go free or the little bitch here gets it!” His finger flexes over the trigger, Katsuki’s blood running cold.

“If I told you where she is, we would both die. I’m under oath.” Katsuki explains lowly, holding his hands out, “Her caretaker would kill you before you made it within a mile of her.”

The villain’s smile widens, “Ah, but you do know where she is? I see.”

Shit. Shit .

Katsuki clenches his fists, shaking his head, “You’ll have to get through dozens of other heroes. The best I can do is let you go.”

For a moment, Katsuki’s heart lets him believe the man considers it. He angles the gun down, grazing it over Denki’s arm.

He lets his eyes close for just a moment, breathing in to steady himself.

A bang and a blood-curdling shriek snap him out of his temporary calmness.

Red eyes snap open, looking first at Denki’s head, but seeing no fresh wounds, he looks down.

The villain had shot right through the hero’s wrist, leaving his hand mangled and dangling at a horrible angle.

“The little brat has a rewind quirk, I’ve heard. Seems to be true from how tightly they’ve got her secured.” The gun travels up Denki’s shuddering arm to his shoulder, “Might want to take us to her if you want this one to live, hm?”

Fuck, FUCK.

Katsuki freezes, totally and completely lost.

He could attack now, catch him off guard when he thinks Katsuki is cornered.

But most likely Denki wouldn’t make it.

No, not an option.

He could agree, but he, the villain, and most likely Denki as well would be taken out for endangering Eri.

He doesn’t have any bargaining power here, what else would the villain want that could distract him long enough for Katsuki to grab Denki and go? He only has his bracers on him, boots, comm device, aids, the dumbass American coin Denki found on their last patrol that Katsuki never took out of his pocket-

His eyes dart up to the blond’s mangled wrist, bloody tears carving a path in the dust caked on his face.

Denki dies or they both die endangering a child.

Katsuki looks down at his hand, ignoring the taunts from the villain tracing the barrel of the gun up and down Denki’s side.

He reaches his palm up and places it at the side of his own head.

The villain snickers, pressing the gun to Denki’s temple again, “You wouldn’t.”

He briefly wonders what his younger self would think of this. Him, threatening to kill himself to protect dunce face of all people? The idiot who almost killed their entire class trying to make toast, the dumbass who fried all of Katsuki’s arm hair off once, the motherfucker who was Katsuki’s second real friend at UA- the one who sat next to him without fear even when he threatened to break his neck.

A hundred of his deaths are worth one of Denki’s. If either of them should survive this, it should be him.

Katsuki takes a deep breath, “I would rather die than kill someone innocent, especially a child.” He smirks, “You’re not getting shit from me. You pull that trigger and I blow: You’re back to the start.”

He can tell the villain is starting to believe him.

“But- the media-”

Katsuki quirks an eyebrow, “You really think the media knows shit about me?”

His hand flexes on his head, and he can feel the nitro seeping into his hair. Even if he lives, he’ll be a walking matchstick.

The villain growls, shaking Denki slightly, “I’m going to kill this fucking brat, and you’re not going to do a fucking thing. You’re just a lowlife hero who cares for no one but himself.”

“Would I still be here if that were true? You took my friend hostage, not me. Fortunately for him, I do give a shit about his dumbass.”

Denki is thrown to the ground, Katsuki flinches at the movement but doesn’t let his hand move from his head.

He winces at Denki’s poor wrist, hoping he can get the guy to a healer in time.

“Take your fuckass twink, I’m fucking out of here.” The villain spins on his heel, sprinting out of Katsuki’s sight.

He heaves a breath of relief, stepping forward to kneel by the other hero.

Fuck, I can’t believe I just did that.

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anonymousewrites · 1 year

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Of Two Worlds Valentine's Day Special 2023

Fushiguro Megumi x Half-Curse! Reader

“And there was a nice young lady at the jewelers, she loved my blindfold, and I’ve been flirting with her for a month so I’ll probably get chocolate from her, and then there’s the guy at the tailor, and then there’s the—” On and on Gojo went, raving about all the gifts and sweets people were going to give him on Valentine’s Day because he’s handsome, kind, gentlemanly, blablabla (only one of those was objectively true).

Nobara tsked. “You’d think he’d shut up after a while.”

“He’s too full of himself to do that,” said Maki, crossing her arms in annoyance.

“—Oh, and I love those little hearts that say ‘you’re sweet’ and ‘be my valentine,’ so I’m hoping I get some of those—” Gojo’s tirade continued unimpeded.

“Tunamayo,” said Inumaki with a deadpan look.

Panda nodded. “Like a puffed-up bird,” he agreed.

“What is Valentine’s Day?” asked (Y/N). The others turned to her. “I never saw people celebrate it growing up here.”

“It’s an American holiday that’s growing in popularity,” said Maki.

“You give chocolate and cards and sweets to someone you care about,” explained Itadori.

“Oh,” said (Y/N). “Are we celebrating?”

Nobara turned a little red. “I’m not sure. It depends on if people give each other gifts or not.”

(Y/N) nodded. Gifts to someone I care about…Like Megumi?

As if he heard her, Megumi walked into the room and saw (Y/N)’s face. It seemed neutral to others, but Megumi saw that it was (Y/N)’s expression of “enlightenment.” She often looked like that after he explained how she was supposed to react or interact with people. However… “You guys didn’t confuse her, did you?”

“No, we were just explaining Valentine’s Day,” said Itadori. He pouted. “Do you think so little of us?”

“Yes,” said Megumi. He looked at (Y/N), who looked deep in thought. He had a suspicion that something in their explanation would be misconstrued by (Y/N).

“I’m sure (L/N) understood,” said Nobara confidently. “We explained why you give gifts and everything!”

“I understand,” said (Y/N), nodding.

Well, it’s not like anything can go wrong with Valentine’s Day, thought Megumi. Still, he leveled a glare at Nobara and Itadori just in case they did confuse (Y/N).

“I shouldn’t be nervous! I’m pretty and strong!” said Nobara, pacing back and forth and holding a card and chocolate to her chest.

“You’ll be fine,” said Itadori, smiling.

“You need to stop overthinking this,” said Megumi.

“I know! I just—” Nobara fell quiet as she saw (Y/N) walk in, her hands behind her back.

She cleared her throat and extended a small box of chocolates out to Megumi. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” said (Y/N), smiling slightly.

Megumi froze, and a blush bloomed on his cheeks. Nobara and Itadori’s eyes widened.

“Go, go, go,” whispered Nobara to Itadori, pushing him out of the room to give Megumi and (Y/N) a moment. (Obviously, they would circle back in a few moments and see what was happening, but that was for later)

(Y/N) furrowed her brow at Megumi’s reaction. “Did I do it wrong?”

“Yes—No—I, mean—” Megumi stuttered as he blushed. “This is…unexpected, that’s all.”

“Why? They said that I’m supposed to give gifts to someone I care about, and you’re my friend,” said (Y/N), cocking her head in confusion.

Megumi took a deep breath and composed himself, the blush still bright on his cheeks. “Itadori and Kugisaki, they meant-they meant someone you love r-romantically,” he explained.

“Oh.” (Y/N) blinked and turned a light pink. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”

“It’s okay. It’s Kugisaki and Itadori’s fault,” said Megumi, sighing.

“Do you not want the chocolates?” asked (Y/N), staring at the package in her hand.

“I won’t reject a gift from you,” said Megumi, smiling. “But, uh—” he looked away nervously “—would you like to share with me?”

(Y/N) brightened. “You want to?”

Megumi nodded. “Yeah.”

“That’s good because they look good. I like sweets,” said (Y/N), sitting down on a small sofa. Megumi joined her as she opened the package. “Do you want dark, white, or milk?”

“What do you like?” asked Megumi.

“I like milk chocolate,” said (Y/N).

Megumi took out the milk chocolate and handed it to them. “There. I like dark anyway.”

They sat side-by-side as they quietly ate their sweets. Finally, (Y/N) broke the silence and said, “Thank you for not making this…awkward. I didn’t know Valentine’s Day was supposed to be romantic.”

“It’s okay. I should have known Itadori and Kugisaki would mess something up,” said Megumi. He smiled at (Y/N). “And we can still give each other gifts in the future. If you’d like that, that is.”

(Y/N) smiled shyly. “I would.”

“Ok, then,” said Megumi. “And thank you, for the gift. I was just surprised.”

“You’re my best friend. I care about you more than anyone else,” said (Y/N), looking down at their hands. “I couldn’t think of anyone else I would want to give a gift to.”

Megumi wasn’t sure what to say. His heart fluttered at (Y/N)’s words. She was always honest, so he didn’t doubt her words, and because of that, he was honored that (Y/N) thought so highly of him. He liked her. To hear her care about him made him incredibly happy, and he wanted to show that he cared for her, too.

“There’s no one else I’d rather spend the day with,” responded Megumi. Allowing himself to be daring, he reached out and squeezed her hand through her glove. (Y/N) tensed for a moment, unused to the touch, before she relaxed and squeezed back hesitantly.

Neither had to speak. Sitting side-by-side, together, hands entwined, was enough.

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popentertainmentmusic · 1 year

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I WANNA DANCE WITH SOMEBODY (2022)

Starring Naomi Ackie, Stanley Tucci, Nafessa Williams, Tamara Tunie, Ashton Sanders, Clarke Peters, Bria Danielle Singleton, Daniel Washington, Kris Sidberry, Marilyn Swick, Naheem Garcia, Greg Roman, Alana Monteiro, Heidi Garza, Tanner Beard, Jennifer Ellis, JaQuan Malik Jones, Alexa Renée, Courtney Caruso, Dave Heard, Rob Lévesque and Lance A. Williams.

Screenplay by Anthony McCarten.

Directed by Kasi Lemmons.

Distributed by Sony Pictures Releasing. 146 minutes. Rated PG-13.

Whitney Houston had a fascinating, exciting, tragic, complex life. There is a whole lot of stuff that went on in her life – both the highs and the lows – probably more than can be explored in a movie. Even a relatively long two-and-a-half-hour movie.

I Wanna Dance With Somebody rushes through the years; the accomplishments, the dramas, the scandals, the complications and the early death of arguably the defining singing voice of her generation, giving the film the feel of a greatest hits medley. However, many of those hits are pretty terrific, so it’s often very entertaining. You just never feel like you’re getting the whole song.

Interestingly, I Wanna Dance With Somebody seems to revolve around a single performance of Houston’s – a live medley of “I Loves You Porgy” “And I’m Telling You That I’m Not Going” and “I Have Nothing” which she did on the 1994 American Music Awards. The film starts and ends on the performance, and also mentions it several times throughout the run of the film as proof that Houston was the greatest voice of her time.

I’m not going to lie, I’ve never heard of this particular performance, and while it was stunningly performed (the film uses Houston’s vocals over the lip syncing by star Naomi Ackie) I’m not sure it was the most memorable performance in Houston’s career, not by a long shot.

And that is what I Wanna Dance With Somebody does best – reminding us of Houston’s music and performances, all with newly remixed and powerful sound.

Actress Ackie does a terrific job in portraying the different eras of Houston’s life – recreating performances, capturing her cadences and attitudes (although she doesn’t exactly look like Houston) and capturing her highs and lows.

It falls into a pretty standard music biofilm structure – the rise and fall of a terrific performer, from obscurity to the top of the world, touching on many milestones and showing the temptations of great fame.

As an officially sanctioned biofilm, I Wanna Dance With Somebody slightly pulls its punches on some of the darker aspects of her life. For example, they toy with the longtime gossip that Houston was gay or bi, and possibly involved with her longtime best friend Robin (Nafessa Williams), teasing the possibility of a relationship – even showing them cohabitation, kissing and Robin getting jealous – before pulling away from the possibility quickly and pretty definitively, coyly suggesting that maybe they were mainly just besties after all.

They also have ex-husband Bobby Brown played in a cartoonishly stupid way, almost feeling like a Chris Rock parody of the guy. Now, no one has ever claimed that Bobby Brown was a deep, thoughtful guy, but I have to believe that he was not the gangsta Casanova loser they play him off as. After all, even the film Whitney acknowledges that the drug addiction that ended up taking her life was not Brown’s fault and he got too much blame for it. (Although, in fairness, he certainly didn’t help…)

Also, super producer Clive Davis (as played by Stanley Tucci) is played out as an exceedingly sweet, magnanimous, supportive force in Whitney’s life. Maybe that is even true, but it’s hard to believe that in a relationship that lasted for well over three decades that there wasn’t some acrimony between them ever. However, the super-nice Clive may just be explained by the fact that Davis is one of the producers of the film.

Also, much like Davis, occasionally the film tends to reduce the diva to her sales figures. In the end credits chyron talking about her life, career and death, they make a point to say how she was the only woman to ever to be diamond-certified three times (her 1985 debut album, 1987’s Whitney and the 1992 The Bodyguard soundtrack). Now, I’m a music nerd, so I know what diamond-certified means (ten million albums sold, also known as ten-times platinum), but I’m pretty sure that stat will go right over the head of most casual fans. More to the point, is it really fair to reduce Houston’s career to units sold, or even awards she won, which the end credit chyron also lists faithfully?

Whitney Houston was much more complicated than that. And while I Wanna Dance With Somebody tries its best to capture the essence of Whitney, it comes off a bit more like the Cliff Notes version of her life. It hits on most of the highlights and lowlights, but it doesn’t explore most of them deeply enough. Perhaps this would have worked better as a limited series for TV or streaming, where the story and characters would have room to breathe and get more in depth.

But, man, what a soundtrack. Just hearing these songs again in full cinema sound is definitely worth the price of a ticket.

Jay S. Jacobs

youtube

#I Wanna Dance With Somebody #2022 #Movie Review #Whitney Houston #Jay S. Jacobs #Music Review

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dmss-blog-salian · 1 year

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Blog Post - 01

Why Representation in Media is Destined to Fail

Like most other millennial humans, I spent my childhood binge-consuming almost every film or series I could get my hands on. Of course, a lot of this included western or various other foreign content. I enjoyed some of them and the others… Well, let’s just say that they were extremely forgettable.

Fast forward to now, I keep people screaming this term. It’s called ‘Representation’. I’ve heard that term before but nowhere near as much I hear it now and definitely not within the same context. Apparently, in western nations, people groups outside of the white majority are not happy with the lack of and/or negative representation in the media. I can see where they’re coming from.

You grow up in a country and its culture. You spend time and money to watch the shows and films produced by this culture, but then all you see are a bunch of people who look nothing like you. I can understand the frustration. So, the demand for representation makes sense, but, hear me out before you get ‘triggered’... I think representation is overrated and it’s destined to be a failure.

Let me explain.

Representation is fine. It’s nice to see diversity on the screen or within the pages of a bestselling novel. However, in my personal experience, these representations are largely vacuous. I mean they’re absolutely pointless.

You see, I’m an Indian who grew up in India - you know, the real Indian. Everytime I see my fellow countrymen and countrywomen yell and scream about representation, I become amused. Why? Well, it’s because any attempt to represent Indians will never be authentic enough and I’m sure this is true for every other ethnicity and culture.

In fact, what is authentic when it comes to representation? Culture and society is incomprehensibly diverse. How can we expect any creator to get it right 100% of the time? Even in my own culture, which falls under the broad category of “Indian”, it is impossible to decipher who or what is Indian.

In fact, even when Indians are represented in western media, I can hardly relate. Yes, you’ve got your brown skinned man or woman. But that’s about it. Indianness goes beyond brown skin. Indian representation, even when it’s done “right”, barely scratches the surface. Having said that, this is not a rant or a critique. I genuinely feel representation is overrated largely because it is hard for anyone in a foreign culture to acquire a complete understanding of what it means to be Indian. I’m sure this sentiment is shared by my fellow humans from other ethnicities and cultures.

To illustrate my point, let’s look at ‘Master of None’. ‘Master of None’ is an American sitcom starring popular Indian comedian Aziz Ansari. The show revolves around Ansari’s character Dev Shah, a struggling 30 year old Actor. The general narrative focuses on the struggles and triumphs of a 2nd generation Indian migrant with regard to his career, romantic relationships and various other personal experiences.

I found the show to be generally entertaining and humorous. However, representation-wise, the show failed to meet the standard of “authentic”. You see, the show’s protagonist is only Indian when it comes to skin color and appearance. I couldn’t relate to him as an Indian in any other manner.

For instance, the major focus of the show is romantic relationships. We see Ansari’s character looking for love, going on dates, and finding himself in hilarious and awkward scenarios. This is one of the segments where I simply couldn’t relate. Dating or pursuing your own romantic interests is still very much forbidden in India. As an average Indian, I couldn’t even dream of finding my own partner. Arranged marriages are still how the vast majority of Indians enter into marital union. ‘Master of None’ loses me here.

But, that’s not all. What I found even more amusing is that Ansari’s character is called Dev Shah. That’s a name that you will typically find being used in the Northern parts of India. However, in the show, the flashbacks of the character’s past show him speaking Tamil, which is a language spoken in the southern state of Tamil Nadu. Interestingly enough, Ansari himself is the son of Tamilian immigrants in real life. This, in my opinion, is poor research on the part of the show’s creators and again, a failure to be authentic. The fact that Ansari himself failed to notice this is an indicator of how disconnected the average American-Indian is from his/her roots.

As I stated earlier, some cultures are just too complex to pin down. Errors like the ones discussed above are almost unavoidable. Even so, Master of None was still an entertaining show.

At the end of the day, what makes a movie/TV show/game entertaining and enjoyable is the plot, the narrative, the performance, the character arc etc. For instance, some of my favorite films from the west happen to consist of an all white cast. That’s because they had a narrative or storyline that was far more relatable than any of the characters. I didn’t have my mind blown by ‘Terminator II: Judgement Day’ because it had an Indian character (which it did not); I was mind blown because of the special effects and the existential dread it induced in me with the whole “machines vs. humans” narrative. Now, that’s something most people, irrespective of ethnic or cultural identity, can relate to.

How This Relates To My Own Practice:

In conclusion, all I’d like to say is that creators shouldn't be burdened with impossible to achieve standards. Creating art should be fun - a thing born of passion; a labor of love. Everything doesn’t have to be politically correct. Everyone’s interests don’t need to be catered to. Good art transcends these trivialities.

This is what I aim to focus on in my own work. Representation has its place but I do not intend to sacrifice creativity, engagement and entertainment at the altar of representation.

Source:

Copes, C. (2021). Why All Representation in Media is Flawed. [online] BLK INK. Available at: https://medium.com/blk-ink/why-all-representation-in-media-is-flawed-e4068a5268fa.

Complex. (n.d.). Aziz Ansari, Diversity, and Being Able to Finally See Yourself on TV. [online] Available at: https://www.complex.com/pop-culture/2015/11/indian-american-representations-television.

‌ Wikipedia. (2022). Master of None. [online] Available at: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Master_of_None#Critical_response [Accessed 10 Jan. 2023].

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popentertainment-moviereviews · 1 year

Photo

I WANNA DANCE WITH SOMEBODY (2022)

Screenplay by Anthony McCarten.

Directed by Kasi Lemmons.

Distributed by Sony Pictures Releasing. 146 minutes. Rated PG-13.

And that is what I Wanna Dance With Somebody does best – reminding us of Houston’s music and performances, all with newly remixed and powerful sound.

As an officially sanctioned biofilm, I Wanna Dance With Somebody slightly pulls its punches on some of the darker aspects of her life. For example, they toy with the longtime gossip that Houston was gay or bi, and possibly involved with her longtime best friend Robin (Nafessa Williams), teasing the possibility of a relationship – even showing them cohabitating, kissing and Robin getting jealous – before pulling away from the possibility quickly and pretty definitively, coyly suggesting that maybe they were mainly just besties after all.

But, man, what a soundtrack. Just hearing these songs again in full cinema sound is definitely worth the price of a ticket.

Jay S. Jacobs

youtube

#I Wanna Dance With Somebody #2022 #Movie Review #Naomi Ackie #Jay S. Jacobs

0 notes

anime-dub-transcripts · 2 years

Text

Hetalia: Axis Powers Episode #47 Transcript

This episode has Poland, Britain, and France just before WW2 and America growing up.

Chibitalia: Wumhm! Mr. Austria? I’m so sorry! I didn’t think I’d be so late!

Austria: From the uber metro emotional display…I assume you said goodbye to Holy Rome?

Chibitalia: What?

Austria: Nothing! I was just talking to myself.

Chibitalia: Uah…

Austria: Italy…

Chibitalia: Uah?

Austria: You should really take the day off. If you go around like this, it’s only going to depress us.

Chibitalia: Oh…yes, sir.

Hungary: Oha!

Austria: Ngh…ngh, ngh…ngh, ngh.

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

{Caption: England}

Poland: Nom nom nom nom nom…

{Caption: It was during WW2. At Poland’s house, France and England were proposing an alliance to prepare for the battle with Germany}

Britain: Thanks a lot for the watery tea. Now, are you going to stand with us against Germany or just chicken out?

France: Germany is really becoming such an astounding brute these days; I cannot take it! What do you say? Would Mr. Polski like to fightski?

Poland: Yeah, I already heard about it from Lithuania. So…no. Wasting my life in European politics would make me gassy! Oh! I’m thinking about painting my house a wicked hipster pink! It’d make Romania so jealous!

France: Uh…uhh…oh dear Lord, he’s even dumber than the last time; he’s never going to understand!

Britain: Pull yourself together! We just have to explain it to him better, that’s all!

(France: Wahahahaha!)

Narrator: Polish horses never charged German tanks at the battle---right, anime fans. Germany invaded Poland in ’39---right, American fans. Poland is a country! In Europe!

{Caption: This is the Anglo-Polish Mutual Assistance Pact and the Franco-Polish Mutual Assistance Pact, which were totally useless}

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

Poland: Hetalia!

{Caption: Hetalia}

Britain: Um…so! How are the battle preparations coming along so far, Poland? Well?

{Caption: His look shows that he doesn’t expect anything}

Poland: Ahh…battle preparations. Not much to do there, broski, since I am Poland after all. Yo, but check it before you wreck it! I did something wicked boss to my lethal war machine!

France: It’s like a dream come true!

Britain: Way to be a team player!

Poland: Look, I’m not a dweeb. I know I’ve got to front it A-style when it’s game time!

Pony: Neigh!

Poland: Yo, ‘sup, playa! I got the good deal on 10,000 ponies to add to my arsenal, right? Picture it! They’ll shoot right over our heads!

Britain: Aah!

France: Aaahh!

Pony: Neigh!

Britain, France: Mhn…well, Poland, auf wiedersehen.

(Auf wiedersehen: Goodbye → German)

Poland: Wait! Hold on a minute, guys! You haven’t even seen my kicks!

Pony: Pffff…

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

Britain, France: Hetalia!

{Caption: Hetalia}

France: Ohhon…it’s not like I just abandoned them! At the time, giving them the space they needed seemed like the most important thing to do! Love shouldn’t be forced on someone unless they ask for it. Like I said, it wasn’t my fear that drove me away, but my strength! You can’t really call it an alliance unless there is that je ne sais quoi, that love connection.

(Je ne sais quoi: I don’t know what → French)

France: Mm…in the end, it’s like a passionate spark between lovers. Like I said, I am not afraid, no matter what you’ve heard.

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

America: Hetalia!

{Caption: Hetalia}

Britain: Hey, America, I’ll be leaving now. So take care.

Child America: What? Now?! You can’t leave me here by myself; I’m just a kid! It’s such a huge, scary place, and I’m so tiny and frail! Who’ll put me to sleep with all those boring stories?

Britain: Stiff upper lip. Those boring stories are called history and it’s time you made some of your own. But I’ll be back…so you have to grow strong and be a good country!

(Child America: Wehehehehe!)

Child America: Okay.

{Caption: Later…}

Narrator: Ooh! Pretty music!

Britain: America! I came back just like I said I would!

America: Haha! S’up, British dude?

Britain: What? You just…how’d that…you got big! Uhuhuh…

(America: Hm?)

Britain’s thoughts: He grew up so fast!

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

Chibitalia: 🎵Draw a circle, that’s the Earth! Draw a circle, that’s the Earth! Draw a circle, that’s the Earth! I am Hetali…🎵 Hm?

Children: To be continued maybe!

{Caption: To be continued}

#anime #anime transcripts #anime dub transcripts #hetalia #hetalia dub transcripts

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ventihonklightice · 3 years

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Clingy || Wilbur Soot

word count: 3.5k

~~~

Y/N had been lounging around the flat all day as her boyfriend filmed videos with his fellow Minecraft friends. Wilbur had currently been recording with Tommy and Quackity, another one of their wild Minecraft mod videos. She knew her love was busy and had his responsibilities with his own videos alongside the ones made with his friends, but she had been scrolling through Twitter and saw that he had just gotten verified. There was no way he knew about the news as he had been busy all day doing his job.

A smile grew on her face as she rushed to his bedroom door to share the great news, however she paused as she heard the nature of his current discussion with his friends.

“- but she’s been good. We’ve been really good,” Y/N smiled at his words, seemingly knowing it was about her. That smile quickly disappeared at the words her boyfriend was about to spew. “Just, she’s been kind of needy and clingy or something,” Wilbur shook his head not fully understanding his own words, looking at the wall behind his monitor too lost in his thoughts. He couldn’t quite understand his own thoughts half of the time, especially today as all he has done was played Minecraft. Slowly, the hate he has been receiving has been catching up to him, forcing him into this pit he’d never thought he’d be in which added to the stress that fueled his words. “Like she thinks she always has to be with me. Right now even, she’s at the flat.” Wilbur ran his fingers through his messy brown hair as he proceeded to explain his relationship. “I love her, I do, but I can’t even be with her right now so I don’t understand why she has to be here,” he confessed, mind clouded with tiredness masked by the wine he downed in an attempt to calm his nerves.

Y/N furrowed her brows leaning forward to listen further. “Well, she loves you, so what do you expect her to do? Not want to be with you?” She heard an American accent, likely belonging to Quackity.

“I-I don’t know. It’s just- I’m not used to this. It’s been a while since I’ve seriously been with a girl like this before. I just need space, but she wants to be around me constantly. It’s annoying.” The anger, the annoyance, and the frustration were all evident in his voice, making Y/N second guess a lot of her choices the past few days. She looked down at her hands, the mustard sleeves reaching past her palms belonging to the man behind the door she leaned on.

She closed her eyes in an attempt to push back her tears before she walked away, not being able to listen to him any further. Her eyes began to water more and more as bothering him was the very last thing she had ever wished to do. She sat on the couch before pulling the jumper off of her body, folding it neatly in her hands before pulling on her shoes.

Fanning her face quickly to reduce any possible puffiness or redness, Y/N timidly knocked on the door to Wilbur’s room. “Hold on guys,” he spoke to his friends, muting himself on discord. “Yeah?” She heard his deep voice call from the other side, taking it as her cue to push the door open. His hair fluffed about as he turned to face her. “Hey what’s up?” He asked with a soft smile.

“I uh think I’m gonna head home, got an early shift tomorrow and all,” she spoke softly while avoiding his gaze. Y/N wasn’t one to lie so she felt guilty for doing so but she didn’t know what else to do.

He furrowed his brows, confused at her words. She almost always stays the night, especially when she works early because he lives closer to her job.

“You sure? You’re more than welcome to stay the night. Y-You always do,” he muttered with slight concern in his words as he took his headset off.

She shook her head lightly, “nah it’s alright. Gotta water the plants,“ Y/N fiddled with the door handle as her other hand traced the sweater, knowing full well she doesn’t have any plants.

“Alright, I’ll walk you out,” he stood up, adjusting the chair in order to do so. Y/N reached out to him, his jumper resting in her hand, “where’d you like me to put this?”

He stood up, increasingly getting confused at her actions because he knew that she loved wearing his clothes and stealing them any chance she got. “I-I’ll um, just toss it on the bed,” he pointed to the made bed, slipping on his shoes to walk her out.

She felt his form loom over her as he walked with her out of the flat and to her car. They walked in silence, uncharacteristically. Wilburs’s hands were stuffed in the pockets of his pants lost in his thoughts as he heard her car alarm He walked to the driver’s side, lost in his thoughts while he opened the door for her.

She approached the door, getting ready to sit in the driver’s seat before turning to Wilbur to bid goodbye. He leaned down to kiss her, standard for all of their farewells, but she turned her head at the last second, his lips crashing onto her cheek. His heart dropped at the odd situation he was placed in, wondering why this was happening.

“I-I’ll see you later,” she smiled softly before sitting down and preparing to drive.

He could let her go like this. He had to know if things were good, okay even. Before he shut the door, he leaned down a bit to get closer to her. “Is everything okay? You seem a bit off, darling.”

“Y-yeah I’m just really tired,” she chuckled humorlessly, placing a hand on her forehead. “Sorry, it’s just been a weird day.”

“If you’re that tired you could stay here,” his voice practically pleaded, assuring her once more that she always had a place there.

“I-I’ll be fine, I promise.” Her words were soft along with her eyes, but she just wanted to give him what he desired; space.

“You sure?” He asked once more, extremely concerned, but what answer was he really expecting? Y/N nodded her head, “positive.”

“Alright, text me when you get home,” he leaned back, preparing to shut the door for her. She nodded her head, pushing her keys into the ignition. “I love you,” he spoke sincerely, bending down so that she’d be able to see him better once more. There was an emotion in YN’s eyes that he couldn’t recognize, but the smile on her face was sad. “I-you too, I’ll see you later,” she fiddled with her keys before meeting his gaze.

His heart shattered at the words. You too? What the hell is that suppose to mean?

He gave a tight smile before shutting the door for her. You too, the words echoed in his mind as he began walking back to the front door, pausing his steps on the pavement to watch her pull out of the driveway. He sighed before turning back to his path home. Upon returning, the place felt dimmer without her presence and he quickly took note of that.

Letting out a huge sigh, he plopped down at his desk, unmuting himself on Discord. “Sorry bout that, I’m back. J-Just walking Y/N out,” he spoke, taking the only opportunity his friends quieted down to speak.

“Wilbur!” Tommy yelled as the rest of the VC, which now had Niki, Jack and Fundy, errupted in chaos. “W-What? What the fuck happened?”

“Dude you got verified on Twitter,” Quackity shouted. His eyes went wide, opening the light blue app to see if it was true. Sure enough, a small check mark emphasized his name. He beamed at the sight of it, rushing to make a tweet about how grateful he was.

He went back to his feed, noticing that Y/N had made a tweet about ten or so minutes prior.

y/n✨| @yourusername

so proud of my favorite boy getting verified <3 love you @WilburSoot !!

His heart clenched at the tweet, being drawn back to the events that occurred moments beforehand. He liked and retweeted it, watching his fans swoon at the couple’s interaction without knowing what was happening behind closed doors, before getting back to his friends being completely distracted by thoughts on the girl he loves.

~~~

Y/N never texted him to tell him that she was home. She woke up late that morning seeing a few texts from him about twitter, how his stream went and so on.

As she looked at the time on her phone, realizing the lie she told him about working early and chose not to answer quite yet.

She spent the rest of her day around the house, cleaning, cooking or watching TV. She wasn’t in any mood to go on social media, not wanting to interact with Wilbur quite yet. Y/N sighed thinking about yesterday, thinking that it would be a better idea to just give him some space.

And so she did, for several days before Wilbur’s worry consumed him.

He sat on Discord with his friends, days after his last interaction with his girlfriend. “It’s just weird because she’s never like this. She always calls or texts me whenever she gets the chance regardless of whether or not I ask,” he expressed to his friends as they were fucking around on their own Minecraft world. He wasn’t even paying attention to what he was doing in the game, just aimlessly pressing buttons and moving his mouse as he thought of Y/N.

Tommy chuckled shortly, “now look whos being needy.”

“Shut up Tommy,” Wilbur explained, running a hand across his chin, fingertips gracing his incredibly overgrown stubble. “Look I’m just saying,” the blond furthered, “there’s no need for you to say she’s clingy or whatever when your freaking out over a text! Like you saw her less than what, two, three ago?”

Wilbur shook his head, fuming now, “Oh my god, shut the fuck up Tommy! How would you, a literal child, know anything about what’s going on? You’ve barely hit puberty!” His outburst caused his friends to quiet down, them not being used to anger being directed in such a way.

“Wilbur,” Tommy started once again, becoming more serious, “I know you. You worrying over a few short days almost disproves everything you said the other day. I think you don’t know how to handle affection well, not that she’s clingy or whatever.” Hearing Tommy acting serious and not childish for this one second made something snap within Wilbur, knowing that the child was right.

He sighed, “I-I’m sorry for snapping at you. Everything is happening at once in my life right now and Y/N not talking to me has me worried. This isn’t what’s normal between us. It’s strange.”

“But isn’t this what you wanted? She isn’t being as ‘needy’ now. You got your wish, didn’t you?” George chimed in, hoping to help even though his own experiences with relationships hasn’t always been the best.

“Yeah, and I fucking hate it, I don’t know why I even said that. I don’t mean it. I love when she’s around, I hate when she isn’t,” Wilbur went on, his thoughts focusing on the good memories he has with his girlfriend.

“Be careful what you wish for,” Dream spoke ominously, feeling as if now was the most appropriate time to speak.

“I-I’m gonna call her,” the distressed twenty year old expressed, whipping out his phone to go to her number. As the phone rang, he became more and more nervous.

“What if she got in an accident? Or someone kidnapped her or something?”He rushed before him and his friends heard “please leave a message for 3-“

“Wilbur, she’s probably fine. She probably had a long day at work or something,” Niki spoke, hoping to add a small but of optimism to the situation.

“Yeah but she would’ve told me that. She would’ve called me to rant about her day, and tell me how much she wanted to see me, but she didn’t.” He leaned back in his chair, getting more and more stressed out over this.

“I-I think I’m gonna head to her flat.”

~~~

The drive was long as his anxiety slowly but surely began to increase with every green light. He pulled into her complex, parking and building up the courage to confront her.

“It’ll be fine. Things are fine,” he muttered to himself as he walked up the steps to the familiar doormat.

He knocked on the door, wiping his sweaty palms on his pants. After a minute, there was no response so he knocked again with more ergency.

“Just a minute,” he heard her soft voice yell out, flooding him with relief. The voice wasn’t as warm as it typically was, only increasing his nervousness.

Before he knew it, Y/N opened the door, eyes meeting his chest before trickling to his eyes. “Wilbur? What are you doing here?”

He froze, shocked at the situation that he forced upon himself without realizing it. “I-You weren’t answering any calls or texts. I was worried,” he mumbled, immediately taking note of her puffy eyes.

“Have you been crying?” He stepped closer to her with concern lacing his voice. He reached out to hold her waist, caress her cheek, anything, but she stepped away slighted. Y/N blinked, “y-yeah, it’s just allergies.”

“You don’t have allergies like that Y/N. May I please come in?” Wilbur knew her better than that, probably even better than she knew herself. She nodded shortly opening the door wider for him to enter, looking down at her sock clad feet.

He entered the tiny flat, taking not that the once welcoming space has become littered with turmoil. The tissues by the sofa didn’t go unnoticed and neither did the pile of dishes in the sink. “What’s been going on? These past few days you’ve been acting strange,” he asked sincerely.

Y/N looked around, finding something and pretending to be busy with it. “I’ve just been busy,” she mumbled looking over the pile of mail she refused to actually look through. “Oh gosh, I’m so sorry, would you like some tea?” She asked, realizing her manners.

“Y/N,” he spoke defeated, “come on talk to me, please.” He practically begged as he followed her steps into the kitchen to start the kettle, even though he didn’t give her an answer.

“Everything’s fine, Wilbur,” she replied absentmindedly as she searched for her various teas. “We got chai tea, black tea, Engli-“

“Y/N, I dont fucking want tea right now I want you to talk to me,” he shouted, approaching her in the kitchen and forcing her to face him by pulling her waist gently. She gasped at the loudness of his words, not used to him yelling at her.

“Wilbur,” Y/N whispered, her hands on his chest as he looked down into her eyes. Desperation was clear in his before being mimicked in his words, “this is the longest you’ve gone without calling me Wil. Come on Y/N, please.” His voice cracked towards the end, the shakiness not leaving.

She closed her eyes tightly before she pulled herself out of his arms, turning to grab two mugs out of the cupboard, “you’re getting chai tea.”

“Love, I just want us to be okay,” he spoke passionately, pleading for things to be right.

“We are okay Wilbu- Wil,” she corrected, more so forcing the nickname to combat his complaint. As she prepared each cup, putting Wilbur’s desired amount of sugar into his cup and respectively her own.

He shook his head, not believing her words as his own eyes began to turn red, “there’s something wrong and I can tell. Please just-please Y/N.” His voice was completely broken and she knew she had to express her concerns. She paused her motions, staring at the jar of sugar she just placed onto the counter.

“I-I didn’t want to bother you,” she muttered softly, examining the mugs before her.

The man sniffed, confusion growing within him. “W-What do you mean? You could never bother me Y/N,” his voice soft, approaching her once again.

She shook her head, moving to put sugar in each cup, forgetting that she already did so, “but that’s not true. We both know that.” The water remained on the stove while copious amount of sugar occupied each cup. Wilbur gently grabbed the hand holding the spoon that shoveled the sugar into the mugs, making her stop her own actions.

“Yes it is, love.” Wilbur whispered softly as she put the spoon into the jar, coming back to reality. Y/N let out a shaky breath, facing the counter while Wilbur occupied her side, facing her.

“So why’d you tell all of your friends that I’ve been clingy and needy and overbearing and everything under the sun?” She whispered as her voice wobbled, indicating that tears would soon come falling down.

Wilbur furrowed his brows, confused at the words she expressed. He scavenged his mind, not understanding what she was stating. “What are yo-“ he cut himself off, taking his hand from hers as he remembered that conversation.

Guilt washed over his soul as he realized the greater impact of his words. She thought she had to change....for those idiotic meaningless words expressed in a fit of stress and exhaustion. He shook his head lightly, refusing to look at her, refusing to look at the damage he’s caused.

“I didn’t mean it Y/N. I just-there was a lot on my plate and I just had to complain about something. A-And you were there to complain about.” He spoke honestly, knowing that it doesn’t excuse his behavior. The sound of the kettle went off, the whistle tones attacking his ears while Y/N ignored it to focus on the conversation at hand.

“I just didn’t want to be a burden,” she muttered with a wobbling bounce that made the tall idiotic man pull her into his arms.

“No,no,no don’t ever ever think that again. You are not a burden. You never were Y/N. This is on me, I shouldn’t have said what I had said,” he muttered into her hair, repeating apologies like a mantra while kissing her hairline.

She let go, allowing her pent up feelings from the past few day flow out through tears while in the comfort of his arms, “my biggest fear is bothering people. I-I didn’t want to upset you.”

“You didn’t,” he pulled away to hold her tear stained cheeks in his hands, regret prominent in his gaze, “you have been nothing but patient with me these past few months and that is something I don’t even have the words to express, love.”

“You, Y/N L/N, are not a burden, not now, not ever,” he whispered lovingly. “I’m sorry I made you feel that way. I’m sorry I even said it. I didn’t mean it, but fuck I shouldn’t have. Look at what I’ve done to you,” his voice wavered as he pulled away to assess the damage. “Fuck,” he shook his head as a sob escaped his lips before he could pull her into his arms again.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, holding her tight while the whistle pierced his ears. She leaned back slightly, pressing her forehead against his while closing her eyes, “I know, I know. It’s okay. I know you. I know you wouldn’t mean it.”

“I love you,” he whispered, holding her head in one of his hands. “I love you too, Wil,” she whispered back, pulling his lips onto hers, sealing their words with this actions.

As much as he loved the feeling of her soft lips on his once again, he pulled away. “Okay, okay, as much as I don’t want this to stop, that damn kettle is driving me mad,” he expressed, making Y/N chuckle before kissing him on the cheek and going to turn off the stove.

He watched fondly as she was about to pour the water into the mugs, stoping to see the plethora of sugar in each. “Oh shit,” she paused, laughing at the mess she had made. Wilbur snapped out of his gaze, examining the scene that caused her words.

He shook his head lightly, grabbing the kettle from her hands before placing it back onto the stovetop. “You,” he turned to face her, poking her cheek, “go to bed, get all comfy and put on a film. I will finish the tea and bring it to you.” His eyes got soft towards the end of his statement as he went to assess the mug situation.

“Then,” he spoke gently, grabbing her waist once again, littering her face with kisses that trailed down her neck, “I’ll spend the whole day making it up to you.”

Y/N laughed, running her fingers through his soft hair, “can’t wait.” His lips stayed pressed onto her neck, before they made their way back to her own.

#Wilbur soot #Wilbur soot imagine #Wilbur soot x reader #Wilbur soot one shot #Wilbur soot fanfiction #Wilbur soot hc #Wilbur soot smut #wilbur mcyt #mcyt #minecraft #mcyt imagine #mcyt x reader #dream mcyt #dream #dream team

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thegreatstoryteller · 2 years

Text

TF Therapy: Miguel

Dr. Evan Chang walked through the spa doors where he found his patient reading one of the magazines set throughout the waiting area. A beautiful rock garden with an indoor river and pond filled the expansive area. The chriping of birds could be heard and the peaceful running water was calming.

There was large man laying on one of the chairs by a nice lounge area who immediately noticed the doctor’s presence.

“안녕하세요 박사님!” he said, causing the doctor to look at him confused.

“One moment,” Dr. Chang said before taking out his phone and tapping a few items. A small ringing went through the air causing both men to flinch.

“What was that doctor?” the man said in a deep and smooth easily understood voice.

“Sorry for that. It’s one of the devices used to help facilitate our sessions. Helps with cases where language barriers are formed. It’s Miguel Villanueva correct?” Dr. Eric said sitting by a nearby bench and setting up his notes.

Miguel nods. “Yes. That must make you Dr. Eric Chang. I must say I’m thrilled to meet with you. All of this is... rather new to me. I think we have much to discuss.”

“I would agree. Let’s start with some introductions. You already know me, Dr. Eric Chang. Your assigned therapist and counselor after your recent transformative experience. The survey you filled out shows you’re comfortable discussing your incident freely. So why don’t you introduce yourself and tell me what brought you to this situation.”

“Right. So my name is Miguel, born in Mexico as a kid, but was brought over to Texas as a baby. Worked as a translator and civil rights guy all through college. Started my first real job in Guadalajara, Mexico last week when all this happened. I wasn’t sure why someone was there to do... whatever they did. It was just a small meeting between some American representatives and local politicians. Then one loud bang and people are just running around screaming about being different people. The bomb? It was a bomb right? It went off and lots of panic happened, but it wasn’t till the second one went off that I found myself thrown... well into a different place all together speaking Korean!”

“Wonderful observation of your incident Miguel. This aligns exactly to my report of the event. To answer you question yes, it was an explosive that went off at your meeting. The common name for this item is Body Swap Bomb, an explosion typically meant to cause mass confusion and panic. As you’ve experienced, this bomb had an unexpected event of placing you in the body of a young man in South Korea.”

“Not that I’m complaining either! Have you seen this body? I never thought skinny me would ever be this huge. I’ve gotta be like 5 or six inches taller and twice as heavy!”

Miguel stands and Dr. Chang could see what he meant. This body towered over the bookish man with expertly carved muscles in every visible area of the body.

“Speaking Korean was fun too. Never realized how many ways I could say certain words. But yeah, I don’t really know why they sent you. An agent explained most of this to me already. That’s why they kept me here, safe in one of your Seoul locations, till I can return to my body. When is that going to happen anyway?”

Eric’s once blushing disposition shifted. He realized it as soon as Miguel had asked. They hadn’t told him.

“Um... Miguel. I’m glad you’re enjoying your body as it is... and I’m glad the agents briefed you on the subject matter regarding your change. However, I’m afraid there’s more... nuance to your situation. While it’s true that Body Swap Bomb victims are able to return to their bodies given our advance technology... you may be unable to.”

It was Miguel’s turn to be shocked. His expression grew gaunt and afraid as Eric continued.

“The body swap bomb only has one initial phase of blast and swapping. They occur simultaneously. This bomb... had a delayed secondary charge that allowed for you to inhabit a body so far away...We... are still researching ways to reverse atypical body swaps and possessions.” At this Eric gripped his fist tightly thinking back to Chris. Miguel looked to be on the verge of tears.

“Secondly... both bodies need to be present for the process to work. Your body... hasn’t been recovered since the incident. This either means the initial blast... destroyed your body or... that someone now inhabits your body and fled the scene of the crime.”

Miguel was sputtering with more and more questions at this point.

“Ok, but what about my family? I gotta call my mom and dad to let the m know what happened.”

“They’ve been informed of your missing status since the day of the bomb.”

“Why!? I’m right here. Let me speak with them!”

“Unfortunately until the investigation concludes you will be unable to contact them. They’re hoping your original body reaches out to them as part of an ongoing operation.”

“Fuck you! I’m... I’m.. this is illegal. You can’t just hold me here against my will!”

“Miguel. Please calm down. This will only aggravate you more I promise everything will be alright.”

“Liar! Let me out of here. This is... this is...” The tears could not be held back any further. Miguel began bawling in front of Eric in a mix of confusion and despair. The doctor didn’t have the heart to tell him that being an American citizen swapped into a foreign body removed any country based rights he had OR that even if he spoke to his parents he was stuck only speaking Korean till he relearned Spanish and English.

A loud plop in the nearby artificial river of this area shocked Miguel out of tears as he jumped in shock.

Eric looked at the scared man once more and sighed. He got up, offered the sobbing man a tissue and a cup of water. “Miguel. I’m so very sorry for the terrible events that have come to pass. I will do my best to provide whatever support I can, as well as talk to your handler about this situation. In the meantime, I can assist you with processing any form of emotions you’d like to exert. If you’re angry, sad, frustrated, or terrified, please know, you can express whatever you’d like during our session.

The two talked for the duration of their session until a timer on Eric’s device went off. “I’m sorry Miguel. This marks the end of today’s session. Please consider the journaling exercise I’ve mentioned and I’ll look forward to seeing you next week.”

“Please, can’t we have a little more time. I’ve got so many questions and- 나는 나 자신을 어떻게 해야할지 모르겠다. 머물러 주세요.“ Miguel requested. Another high pitched ringing marked the end of the translation technology. Soon agents were ushering the doctor out of the room, leaving Miguel alone in the peaceful waiting area.

Eric immediately marched through the metallic hallways angrily going into one office. “Agent Alphonse, may I have a word?” Eric asked opening a door without knocking, glaring down at a well dressed man.

“How was today’s session with Mr. Villanueva? I trust you completed the briefing?” the agent responded not even meeting eyes with the angered doctor.

“I require a level of stability and trust with my patients when I work with them. Handing them news that should’ve been covered upon their entry into the handling program is not part of my job description.” Eric said, his glare unwavering.

The agent stood to his full height and towered over the doctor. “But you’re so good at it Dr. Chang. Now I’m going to excuse your lack of decorum by bursting into my office if you’ll excuse my frankness. Your job here is to follow the agency’s authority. In this scenario that is me. If I need you to complete a briefing you will do so. Otherwise your private project may come under more... scrutiny. Now you’d hate to have that happen when you’re still gathering information for... what was his name again? Oh Chris! That’s right.” An over confident smirk overtook Alphonse’s face.

Eric knew when someone was trying to be emotionally manipulative so he took a breath and did his best to compose himself. “I appreciate the... feedback Agent Alphonse. I’ll keep this in mind.”

“See that you do Dr. Chang. Now close the door on your way out, I’m quite busy.”

With a tightly gripped fist Eric walked out of the room and slammed the door.

Dr. Evan’s Chang’s Notes on patient: Miguel

Age: (21) 32

Height: (5′3) 6′1

Race: (Latino) South Korean

Insufficient time and resources to provide proper prognosis. Subject appears to be processing the potential permanence of being stuck in the body of former bodybuilder Kim Min Su. While initially enjoying the novelty of the unfamiliar size and strength, this does not appear to deter the trauma of losing access to one’s family and life. Subsequent sessions will hopefully build a longer lasting trust between the two of us and become less focused on briefings. Subject appears to find the loud noises even in the waiting area to be intense stimuli. Note keep a look out for potential signs of PTSD and associated survivor based conditions. Additionally subject would like to relearn languages, so I should provide resources for him to use during next session.

Private note. It appears Sr. Agent Alphonse Marx is the current case handler for Miguel. Will keep this in mind for any... sensitive information provided for personal projects. The existence of a body swap tech that has that kind of range and permanence may be the solution to my problem.

#tf therapy #thegreatstoryteller #race change #racial change #body swap

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gar-trek · 3 years

Note

please share what you have to say about food cubes!!

I was feeling a little apprehensive about releasing the TOS Food Document™ because it is so damn long…. But since you asked anon

DISCLAIMER:

This is focused solely on food as it appears in the original series. Whatever explanation of food synthesizer/replicator that may come in later series does to apply here. I am also not a Star Trek expert. I’m sure there is some super fan out there who knows everything there is to know about food in TOS, but that person is not me. This is just my thoughts as I’ve observed instances where food is shown or mentioned in TOS. If my thought process is flawed, or I make some claims that don’t really make sense, I am sorry. The food canon is very complicated and vague, so this is me just trying my best to make sense of it. I’d also like to mention I did not explicitly cover the meal scene in What Are Little Girls Made Of? Or the ice cream scene from And The Children Shall Lead, but I do make reference to them. I’m sure there are other food scenes I didn’t get to cover here, so if I’m missing a few pieces, I’m sorry.

Anyway… let’s get into it!

The original series, food, and other things that keep me up at night

I don’t care about continuity or plot holes in Star Trek: The Original Series, and if I did, I think the show would become rather unwatchable. It’s not about what happens to get us from plot point A to B, but more important that we do get there (ie, who cares how or why Spock’s brain has been removed from his body, it’s more important that we do get it back inside).

This being said, there is one aspect to TOS that baffles me to no end, and its something I just cannot overlook: the food. Food, the entire concept of it as it appears in TOS haunts me. Each time they show or mention food it makes less and less sense. It’s a never-ending nightmare and I spend every day trying to understand what goes on in the Enterprise Cafeteria. Today I would like to explore a couple food instances on TOS, and hopefully make a little sense of what is happening.

The first chilling incident: The Man Trap (S1E2) - Rand is a thief

In this episode, we see Yeoman Rand on her way to deliver Sulu his meal. She is carrying a tray of colored food cubes (which is what I will be referring to them as here, because there is no official name) and what we can assume to be some kind of alien variant of celery (earth celery with some red crap stuck on top). While waiting for the turbo lift, Rand eats one of the celery sticks intended for Sulu. My question is why. Like literally why does this happen. Sulu never mentions it (maybe he doesn’t notice). She never mentions it to him, which means we can assume she doesn’t want him to know. So why is Rand stealing food? Does she not get enough to eat? Is the limits for how much you get to eat on the Enterprise that strict you need to turn to thievery to get a proper meal? and if that the case, she’s shorting Sulu on his allotted food. In this same scene, we see Ensign Green (who is really a salt-sucking monster) make a grab for the tray as if he too is going to steal Sulu’d food. However, Rand slaps his hand away and asks “who do you think you are?”, a hypocritical statement considering Rand is also in the act of stealing food. So Rand, I must pose the same question to you. This scene has no resolution, so any interpretation is up to the viewer. Whether you think Rand's actions make her a girlboss or a thief, is up to you, however, one thing is undeniably true: Rand eats food off other people's plates.

Other food-related things of note in this episode is that Sulu sprinkles salt on the celery sticks. This means they are either bland or that's just his personal taste. Also, when Rand gives him his tray, he says “may the great bird of the galaxy bless your planet” and this has nothing really to do with food, I just thought it was kind of badass.

(Sulu’s food tray with 3 celery instead of 4 because Rand ate one)

Incident two: Charlie X (S1E3) - synthetic meatloaf

In Charlie X, we see Captain Kirk make this comment in passing:

“Today on earth it is Thanksgiving, if the crew has to eat synthetic meatloaf I want it to look like turkey.”

This statement leaves us with a couple undeniable truths:

1. Meatloaf is a meal option on the Enterprise.

2. It is synthetic, meaning the meatloaf may not contain any meat at all.

3. It is not shaped like turkey, but it is possible to do so.

if the meatloaf served on the Enterprise is synthetic, then it very well could be made out of the same stuff the colored food cubes are made out of. Also, (and this is pure speculation so take it with a grain of salt) since we never hear anyone refer to the colored food cubes by name, they could literally be the “synthetic meatloaf” that Kirk is referring to here. In this case, the term synthetic meatloaf would not mean a synthetic version of the popular American dish meatloaf but instead loafs of synthetic meat. Since we do not know exactly what synthetic meat looks like, it very well could be brightly colored cubes.

In either case, Kirk is asking them to turn synthetic food from one shape to another. We understand this is possible through the food synthesizer, however, if all the food they eat on the Enterprise is synthetic anyway, then why did Kirk specifically mention synthetic meatloaf in the shape of turkey? would the turkey not instead be made out of synthetic turkey? why must the synthetic turkey be made specifically out of meatloaf? isn’t every single food that comes out of the food synthesizer made out of the same thing? It would have made more sense for Kirk to say “it's thanksgiving so can you made the food synthesizers produce turnkey?”. However, Kirk is like, a really cool guy, so it is possible that the meatloaf comment is just a fun joke. Either way, we know that synthetic meatloaf is a standard menu item on the enterprise, yet we have never seen anyone consume it.

Incident 3: The Corbomite Maneuver (S1E11) - Green leaves

In this episode, Kirk goes in for a physical, and Doctor McCoy reports that the captain is 2 pounds overweight. In response to this, the Doctor changes the captain's dietary card to help him lose a little wight (🙄). We later see the captain served a “dietary salad” in place of his usual meals. The existence of dietary salad is interesting for many reasons. Most importantly, we understand that dietary salad is somehow better for you than what is usually served on the Enterprise. It most likely has a lower caloric intake than say, colored food cubes. However, as discussed before, most if not all the food on the Enterprise is synthetic. If the food is created, and not naturally made, then one can assume its caloric value can be controlled. Would it not be possible to make a lower-calorie version of colored food cubes? one would assume that the cubes are made to have the perfect amount of nutrients to satisfy yet keep humans a healthy weight if they are in fact a form of synthetic man-made food. How would the captain overeat, if portions are pre-determined by dietary cards? Is Kirk somehow going rouge and consuming food that is not created by the food synthesizer (the captain's secret cookie stockpile??).

The existence of this salad also begs another question: is it synthetic as well, or are they growing fresh salad on the Enterprise? We do know that they are able to grow things on the ship, however, there has never been any discussion of growing crops specifically for consumption. If this is the case though, it may explain why we often see crew members eating celery sticks. Perhaps things like celery sticks and dietary salads are grown on the Enterprise, but all other food is synthetically created. In which case, who’s job is it to harvest food and prepare it for meals? Did Rand have to put that dietary salad together all on her own?

One more interesting point about the Salad: When Kirk first receives it, he asks

“what in the devil is this? Green leaves?”

which prompts Rand to explain that it’s a salad. It is very possible that Kirk genuinely has no idea what a salad is. He may have never had one, nor heard of the food in his entire life. Later we see him eat the salad with his hands, which further proves the point that captain kirk doesn't know what salad is. Why captain Kirk would somehow have no knowledge of salad is up to speculation.

Incident 4: The conscience of the king (S1E14) - Cry over spilled milk

In this episode, Lieutenant Riley is served colored food cubes and a glass of what appears to be milk. There isn’t much of significance here, other than the fact we know it is possible to get a glass of milk with your meal on the Enterprise. Unlike Sulu, Riley doesn’t have any celery sticks but seems to have a larger serving of colored food cubes as compensation. We also learn that milk is served in a large glass, something that seems very impractical on a starship.

Riley proves my point moments later when he spills milk on a control panel and shatters the glass. This begs the question, who is going to clean that up?

Incident 5: Tomorrow is Yesterday (S1E20) - Chicken noodle soup

In this episode, the Enterprise accidentally beams a 60′s army man abroad their ship (for the second time). This random chad ensign asks the man if he’s hungry because he’s a troll I guess and he wanted to flex their cool future food machine. The army captain guy is like sure, I could go for some chicken soup right now (a very natural response to being beamed onto a spaceship for the first time). Chad ensign has like three cards in front of him, and I guess one of them just happens to be chicken soup because he puts it in the machine and the soup appears. Grant it, we never actually get to see the soup with out own eyes, but the army captain does seem to be pretty convinced that it is chicken soup just by the smell. This opens up a couple possibilities:

-The food synthesizer can make almost anything you want, and the card is maybe like a very broad category, like a dinner card, and when you put it in you can pick any dinner food you’d like.

-The food synthesizer can only make what is specific to each card, and the ensign just got extremely lucky and happened to have a card that was the exact food the army captain wanted.

More evidence, which we will go over later, points more towards the theory that one card is equal to one specific type of food. In this case, it is unclear how the synthesizer food cards are distributed, or how you get your pick of what food you would like. It is also more likely that options would be limited. This does make sense, however, it makes this scene very confusing, as, as I’ve pointed out, the ensign had a very limited number of cards, but exactly what the captain had asked for. Pure luck? what mind game was that Chad ensign trying to play with the poor man who was abducted from earth... we will never know.

One more very interesting thing is established here: The transporter room has a food synthesizer. Why this is is purely up to speculation. In my mind, having a food synthesizer in the transporter room would be like having a full kitchen where you park your car. Seems pretty useless, but maybe the guys in the transporter room requested easy access to snacks? Why the transporter room would get this special privilege is again, up to speculation.

Incident 6: Space Seed (S1E23) - Dinner with Khan

In Space Seed a special dinner is put together to welcome Khan onto the Enterprise. We see that they are being served colored food cubes and celery sticks. Doctor McCoy walks into the dining room and comments about how the display is “very impressive”. However, this seems like a very unusual comment considering we are shown the only food we have ever seen consumed on the Enterprise. What exactly makes this food “impressive” as compared to other celery sticks and colored food cubes? Is there some way to tell this particular food is better that we don’t know about, but is obvious to everyone on the Enterprise?

There is also a chance that Doctor McCoy is just very easily impressed with food, and upon seeing any food spread he is likely to comment in wonder. Note the way Scotty is looking at McCoy. His face is a mixture of confusion, judgment, and pity. Perhaps Scotty is thinking to himself “bruh, it’s literally just colored food cubes chill out man,”. There is no explanation as to why Scotty is giving McCoy such a look, so this very well could be the case. Even though it is a silly explanation, I don’t think it should be ruled out that one of McCoy’s personality traits is being overly excited about food of any kind.

Incident 7: Journey to Babel (S2E10) Party food

Much like in Space Seed, in this episode, we get to see a meal put together for a special occasion. All the diplomates are getting down at a mixer where a spread of food has been provided. These snacks seem very similar to colored food cubes, however I do think they differ. They may be the same type of food, but different in some way. In which case colored food cubes is an overarching category of food, and here we see two different types. The smaller more brightly colored cubes can be put in drinks, though if this is what you are supposed to do with them, or just the preference of that one alien species I do not know. Though I must point out, we have seen colored food cubes served in brown sauce in What are Little Girls Made Of? (S1E8) so it is not completely unheard of to have your colored food cubes served soggy.

The other type of colored food cubes we see are a lot larger and more pair shaped (in reality, they probably were just skinned pairs dipped in food coloring, but for this essay, it’s important that we completely ignore the fact there is another life outside of Star Trek). Now to me, these are very interesting, because the dull color and apparent texture are a lit more similar to standard colored food cubes we have seen thus far. I would even go o far to say that this is the same exact food, just sans the cubed shape. So really, standard colored food cubes are just the cubed version of whatever this food is. This, again, is just speculation, but it does point us to the fact that colored food cubes are not naturally cubed (I’m going somewhere with this is promise)

Incident 8: The Trouble With Tribbles (S2E15) The trouble with Chicken sandwichs

Here we see Kirk attempting to order a chicken sandwich and coffee. What he gets instead is a plate full of tribbles, hilarity ensues. I think this scene is interesting because we can add to our list of food items that are on the menu at the enterprise cafeteria: chicken sandwich. However, this is another food item we do not see. There is no way of knowing if the Enterprise's version of a chicken sandwich is what we would imagine a chicken sandwich to be. Much like the meatloaf and the soup, because we do not see it, there is no way of knowing if the food exists in the way that we as 21st-century people understand it. The events of TOS take place more than 200 years in our future, so to speculate that food could change a lot during that time isn’t a stretch. I don’t know, just some food for thought (lol)

Incident 9: By Any Other Name (S2E22) Living deliciously

In this episode, an alien taking the form of a human enjoys some colored food cubes. He makes a comment about how they are good they are while enthusiastically eating his food. This is a very important moment because it tells us that colored food cubes do taste good. In fact, they taste really good. Just before he eats, the alien comments on how humans could just take pills that give them all their nutrient needs and give up food completely (think the Jetsons cartoon). On the Enterprise, they do not eat just to live, but because they enjoy their food as well. This tells us that colored food cubes are at the very least, worth eating, and at the best, very delicious.

One more interesting thing: Spock is eating some kind of soup while everyone else enjoys colored food cubes. This could be a Vulcan preference, however, we know that Spock is vegetarian. This could be alluding to the fact that Colored Food Cubes are made out of meat.

Conclusion:

Yes, I asked a lot more questions than I answered. There are some things that make absolutely no sense to me, primarily, the food synthesizer and diet cards. Some evidence points to the fact that the food synthesizer can make practically anything (see Tomorrow is Yesterday, And the Children Shall Lead). However, one dietary card is equal to one specific food, which would mean they would have to produce a lot of these dietary cards if there is many meal options. How these cards are distributed, and what their limitations are, we do not know. And although we do not know the limits of what the food synthesizer can create, we do know these food have been served on the enterprise at least at one point:

-colored food cubes (variety)

-celery

-synthetic meatloaf

-synthetic turkey (Thanksgiving Special)

-Dietary Salad

-Milk

-Chicken Soup

-Chicken Sandwich

-Mystery Soup

-Ice cream (variety of flavors)

All of this food (except for maybe the dietary salad and celery) are synoptically created, so what they are actually made up of, I cannot say.

And finally, I would like to make a point about the colored food cubes. I think upon first inspection one would assume colored food cubes is a dish created specifically for space travel (think the food created for modern-day astronauts to consume in space). However, we learned that there is possibly a variety of colored food cube dishes. Since there is such a wide variety of food on the Enterprise, why would they also need to create a food specifically for space travel? I think that colored food cubes are actually a common dish, not intended specifically for space travel. Perhaps it was an alien food that got popular on earth, maybe it was a dish developed later in Earth's history by humans. I can only speculate, but I do think it is more than just boring space food. Everyone seems to have a preference for it, so I think it’s a dish you can eat over and over again and not get sick of. What colored food cubes taste like is completely up to speculation, but I would assume they are a savory food, considering we often see people enjoying them for their main meal.

I still have more to say, but for the sake of everyone, I’ll end it there. This was a lot of thought dumping, so if some of the things I said made no sense at all, I’m sorry. I’d love to hear some of your thoughts on TOS food! please share with me what you think colored food cubes would taste like :)

#star trek #tos #star trek tos #the original series #anon reveal yourself so i can kiss you #please #whole ass ted talk #sorry this is so long #colored food cubes #kirk #james t kirk #spock #bones #leonard mccoy #journey to babel #space seed #yeoman rand #sulu #hikaru sulu

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incorrectsmashbrosquotes · 2 years

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Watchbros.

Snake: I heard joke once: Man goes to doctor. Says he's depressed. Life seems harsh, and cruel. Says he feels all alone in threatening world. Doctor says: "Treatment is simple. The great clown - Pagliacci - is in town. Go see him. That should pick you up." Man bursts into tears. "But doctor..." he says "I am Pagliacci." Good joke. Everybody laugh. Roll on snare drum. Curtains.

Ganondorf: I'm not a comic book villain. Do you seriously think I would explain my master stroke to you if there were even the slightest possibility you could affect the outcome? I triggered it 35 minutes ago.

Link: What happened to us? What happened to the American Dream?

Wolf: "What happened to the American Dream?" It came true! You're lookin' at it...

Samus: Do you remember that crazy guy? What did he call himself... Captain Carnage. The one who used to pretend he was a supervillain just so he could get beaten up all the time?

Link: Yeah, he tried that on me once. I just walked away. He starts following me down the street in broad daylight, yelling 'Punish me! Punish me!' I'm just saying 'No! Get lost.'

Samus: God. Whatever happened to him?

Link: Well, he pulled that on Snake, and Snake dropped him down an elevator shaft.

[pause, then both laugh]

Samus: Oh my god. That isn't even funny.

Link: [laughing] It is a *little* funny.

Snake: We need to squeeze people.

Link: [sarcastic] Sure. We'll pick them out of a phone book.

Snake: You forgot how we do things, Daniel. You've gotten too soft. Too trusting. Especially with women.

Link: No, listen, I am through with that! God, who do you think you are, Rorschach? You live off people while insulting them and nobody complains because they think you're a goddamn lunatic!

[Snake approaches Link, who sighs and turns to him]

Link: I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that, man.

Snake: Link? You are a good friend.

[extends his hand and Dan takes it]

Wolf: Justice is coming to all of us, no matter what the fuck we do. You know, mankind's been trying to kill each other off since the beginning of time. Now, we finally have the power to finish the job. Ain't nothing gonna matter once those nukes start flying; we'll all be dust. And Ganondorf here will be the smartest man on the cinder.

Kirby: Will you smile? If I admit I was wrong?

Samus: About what?

Kirby: Miracles. Events with astronomical odds of occurring, like oxygen turning into gold. I've longed to witness such an event, and yet I neglect that in human coupling, millions upon millions of cells compete to create life, for generation after generation until, finally, your mother loves a man, Wolf O’Donnell, the Comedian, a man she has every reason to hate, and out of that contradiction, against unfathomable odds, it's you - only you - that emerged. To distill so specific a form, from all that chaos. It's like turning air into gold. A miracle. And so... I was wrong. Now dry your eyes, and let's go home.

Ganondorf: Do you see? It's your super powers retreating from war. I've saved the Earth from hell. We both have. This is as much your victory as it is mine. Now we can return. Do what we were meant to.

Snake: We were meant to exact justice! Everyone's gonna know what you've done...

Ganondorf: Will they? By exposing me, you would sacrifice the peace so many died for today.

Link: Peace based on a lie.

Ganondorf: But peace! Nonetheless.

Kirby: ...He's right. Exposing Adrian would only doom the world to Nuclear destruction again.

Samus: No... we can't do this.

Kirby: On Zebus, you taught me the value of life. If we hope to preserve it here, we must remain silent.

Snake: Keep your own secrets...

[the others look as Snake leaves, then Kirby and Ganondorf make eye contact]

Link: Don't even think about it.

[Goes after Snake]

Link: Snake! Wait.

Snake: [Turns] Never compromise. Not even in the face of Armageddon. That's always been the difference between us, Link.

[Leaves the building]

Ganondorf: I've made myself feel every death... see every innocent face I've murdered to save humanity.

[Turns to Kirby]

Ganondorf: You understand, don't you?

Kirby: Without condoning... or condemning. I understand.

Snake: [Outside, in the snow, Snake comes across a copy of Kirby standing in the snow] Out of my way. People have to be told.

Kirby: You know I can't let you do that.

Snake: Suddenly you discover humanity. Convenient.

[Takes off his bandana, given to him by Meryl, all those years ago]

Snake, accusingly: If you'd cared from the start, none of this would've happened.

Kirby: I can change almost anything... but I can't change human nature.

Snake: Of course, you must protect Ganondorf's new Utopia. One more body amongst foundations makes little difference. Well, what are you waiting for? Do it...

[Kirby hesitates]

Snake, tears in his eyes: DO IT!

[Kirby swallows Snake, condemning him into oblivion]

Link: NOOOOOOOO!

[Link falls to his knees, crying. Snake’s bandanna floats down to the snow covered ground, just another piece of fabric]

Kirby, sitting alone on the Moon: I am tired of Smashing. These Bros. I am tired of being caught in the tangle of their tournamnets.

#incorrect super smash bros #super smash bros #incorrect quotes #smash bros #Kirby #Ganondorf #Wolf #Wolf O'Donnell #Link #Samus #Solid Snake #Snake #source: Watchmen #Legend of Zelda #Star Fox #Metroid #Metal Gear Solid

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spunky-89 · 3 years

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All Power (Kol Mikaelson x Female Reader)

A/N: Woo a new fic! Cause updating or finishing old WIPs is apparently not as cool. Also, this fic is a bit of a crossover from Teen Wolf, not anything like major, just some references and such.

Word Count: 1.8 k

Warnings: None that I can think of

The air was tense in the courtyard as Kol stood protectively in front of his lover, facing off against his pain-in-the-ass hybrid brother. Elijah stood between the two trying to keep them from tearing each other apart. Freya was off to the side holding herself, feeling guilty for starting this disagreement.

“You come anywhere near her Nik and I swear it will be the last thing you do.” Kol threatened.

“I don’t like liars, especially not in the house where my daughter sleeps,” Klaus growled.

“You really think I wouldn’t make sure that my girlfriend had no ill intent towards my niece? Do you think that low of me brother?”

“Enough, both of you,” Elijah spoke, turning slightly to look at his youngest brother and his lover. “Now, would you care to share what this ruckus is all about?”

“I don’t know, ask Nik.” Kol spat, rage in his eyes.

“You stand there and make me the bad guy when it is your pet human that is lying and has been her whole time with us.” Klaus proclaimed.

“And how do you know this Niklaus?” Elijah inquired.

“Because I sensed it,” Freya spoke up, moving closer to the brewing storm.

“Sensed what Freya?” Kol snapped, becoming more and more fed up with the current situation.

“Something… off,” She tried, struggling to find the words.

“You need to do better than that sister, or else this is a waste of time because you have no grounds to accuse my girlfriend of anything.”

“Enough.” The woman came out from her position behind Kol and came to stand next to him. “Please just stop, all of you.” She requested.

“Darling?” Kol gave her a questioning look and she gave a heavy sigh.

“She isn’t wrong, I’m not human,” She started, avoiding eye contact and staring at the ground. “Well, not entirely human I should say.” She then looked to Klaus, “I’m honestly surprised you didn’t sense it. I mean typically wolves have a sense for this sort of thing.” She remarked.

“Get to the point, my patients is waning fast,” Klaus warned. As he did so, Kol took a threatening step forward, only to be stopped by a hand on his arm.

“Okay, calm down. The short version is I’m a werewolf.” The woman stated plainly.

“You can’t be, you’ve never turned on a full moon,” Kol stated, looking to his girlfriend in confusion.

“That’s because I’m a different breed and I’ve learned to control it.” She then gave a bashful smile at him and said, “I also happen to have an amazing anchor that keeps me grounded.”

“That’s it,” Klaus growled and sped at the supposed werewolf and pinned her to the wall, his eyes glowing golden. “Who are you?”

She saw Kol move to intervene but she shot him a look to let her handle this. She smirked as she took a deep breath and closed her eyes, opening them to reveal her eyes were glowing a vibrant purple, wolfish features taking over her face slightly. And before Klaus could make a comment or move, she dug her claws deep into his side and rake them upwards, causing him to release her in shock. She used that moment to roundhouse kick him away from her.

“Who am I? Well, I’m someone you really don’t want to piss off.” She huffed, fixing her clothes.

Kol was looking at her wide-eyed, never having seen her like that before. He watched in fascination as her face shifted back to the one he loved so much, though the claws on her hands didn’t disappear.

While Kol was focused on her, she was focused on Klaus. She knew she just poked the sleeping bear, or well in this case wolf. She acted casual, but she was ready for a full-fledged brawl. She heard him let out a chuckle, and her heart went icy cold. She knew that kind of chuckle. It was the kind that told her she’d just pissed him off and he was amused by her attempt to hurt him.

“That was a neat trick, love,” He said as he stood back up to his regular height. “But you’ll have to do a lot better than that if you want to hurt me.” He growled as his eyes flared and he started to rush towards the woman. Before he could even get close Kol threw him to the other side of the courtyard.

“I told you Nik, not a hair.” He seethed, standing protectively in front of his girlfriend, who was now minorly terrified and clutched onto the back of his jacket.

“Maybe I should just go,” She murmured to Kol.

“Nonsense, you are still welcome here,” Elijah promised.

Klaus had gotten up and was getting ready to argue when Elijah cut him off.

“Why don’t we give the lady the benefit of the doubt. As it stands, if she had wanted to harm any of us she’s had ample opportunities to do so and has not. We shall hear her out before we jump to any more conclusions.” He stated, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Everyone was slow to move, but eventually, all were gathered in the seating area.

“What do you want to know?” The woman asked, practically perched in Kol’s lap.

“First off, how is there another breed of werewolf?” Elijah asked.

“Well, there’s actually a few. I’m from the French line of werewolves, whereas your brother is of the North American breed. As far as I know, the only other breed is English wolves. But there are many different shifters out there from many cultures. Kitsune, for example, come from Japan.” She explained as best as she could.

“How is it we’ve never heard of any other wolves or shifters before?” Freya asked.

“That I am unsure of, but I’ve met loads of different shifters and other creatures. Where I come from, it’s practically a beacon for supernaturals.”

“And you can control your shifts?” Kol piped up.

“Well for the most part. The way French wolves and shifters work is that you can shift at any time, not just on the full moon. But the full moon makes us more susceptible to turning. But for older wolves, it becomes easier to control your shifts. Whereas baby wolves tend to be much more at risk of turning uncontrollably.”

She then spent the next hour or so explaining the differences between the different wolf breeds and other supernatural creatures, although she never really explained what she was. It was actually Kol that brought up the question.

“Me? Well, I’m kinda a special case. I’m a werewolf, but well, an extremely rare one. It’s why I didn’t tell you who or what I was.” She explained, clearly nervous to reveal who she was. But with one squeeze of the hand from Kol, she sighed and started speaking, “I am the twin sister of Scott McCall, the True Alpha. I am his opposite in most cases which makes us an elite team that is nearly unbeatable. So I am what is called a Compliment Alpha. Part alpha, part beta, all power. It’s why my eyes are purple. It combines the red of an alpha’s eyes and the blue of a beta’s.” She explained, once again flashing her eyes.

“Does that satisfy you Nik? Or does she have to go through her life story before you trust her?” Kol asked, seemingly done with his girlfriend being interrogated.

“I swear to you I am no threat to your family. I didn’t even know of your existence until Kol revealed who and what he was. Vampires are kinda new territory for me. This is not some evil plot to harm you or any Mikaelson. You all have become my new pack, and you don’t hurt your own pack.” She swore.

“I shall allow you to stay, but be warned little wolf, I see even the slightest hint of your inevitable betrayal and I will end you and your brother.” Klaus threatened, but instead of being scared she just gave him a smile.

“I would expect nothing less.” She teased as she stood from the couch. “But just so you know, my old pack and I are hard to kill. Trust me, many have tried, yet here I am.”

Kol stood as well and took her hand as they left for her apartment on the other end of town. He pulled her close by her shoulder and kissed her head as they walked out of the compound.

-----------

When they finally made it back to her apartment, he could see her noticeably relax.

“I have to say, darling, I’ve never seen you kick ass before but I would love to see it again,” Kol murmured as he wrapped his arms around her waist and laid kisses on her neck. She giggled and tried to push him away.

“Stooop,” She whined as she tried to wiggle out of his grip.

Kol, unfortunately, refused to let her go and held her tighter as he relished in her laughter. Moments like this were his favorite because there was just joy in the air. All troubles forgotten and burdens lifted to make room for the contentment he felt when he was with her.

The two settled down on the couch and just sat cuddled up in silence for a while. Kol was the first to break it after about half an hour.

“Would you have ever told me?” He asked, looking down at his lover who suddenly seemed very interested in the couch.

She sighed and sat up. She hated this. She knew he would eventually ask this. And she dreaded it because she didn’t have a good answer. But she knew she had to give him something.

“Honestly, I don’t know,” She started, “My identity and my secret is the reason why I ran here in the first place. The danger became too great for my brother and me to stay together. We had to separate, at least for a little while. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.” She paused as she recalled the day she had to say goodbye to her mother and brother. The physical pain she felt when she got on the plane without him. “I was scared.” she admitted, “I trust you, and I wanted to tell you so many times, but…”

“But what darling? Cm’on darling, I just want to know.”

“If my identity was found out, I would have had to leave again. Which would mean leaving you. And I couldn’t- I can’t lose you too. It would break me. Shatter me to a point that I would become volatile and dangerous to those who came across me. Because my heart’s been broken a few too many times for me to be able to come back from that.” She said quietly, not realizing that tears had begun to stream down her face.

Kol pulled her back into his arms and just held her.

“I swear to you my love, no one will keep me from you. Not even my brother.” He vowed.

#kol mikaelson x reader #kol mikaelson oneshot #kol mikaelson x you #kol mikaelson imagine #kol mikaelson #the originals #teen wolf #klaus mikaelson #elijah mikaelson #kinda au #werewolf

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plaidbooks · 2 years

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Ask a Dad part 2

A/N: Like I said, I’ve had thoughts about this story (and no, I couldn’t think of a better title, thanks). The beginning of this story is more based around reader and Jude, but Sonny will become more of a character later, I promise. The thing with Sonny, though, is that you all know his character, so it doesn’t need as much explanation yet.

Again, for non-Americans, Freshman is 9th grade (14/15yo), Sophomore is 10th (15/16yo), Junior is 11th (16/17yo), and Senior is 12th (17/18).

Part 1

Tags: none

Words: 1092

Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @permanentlydizzy @ben-c-group-therapy @infiniteoddball @glowingmess @whimsicallymad @lv7867 @storiesofsvu @cycat4077 @alwaysachorusgirl @glimmerglittergirl @joanofarkansass @caracalwithchips @beardsanddetectives @reading--mermaid @averyhotchner @mrsrafaelbarba @detective-giggles @crowleysqueenofhell @dreamlover31

It was Saturday, which meant it was grocery shopping day. On Saturdays, you took Jude out to lunch, catching up with your weeks, asking about school and life. Once no longer hungry, you’d both go grocery shopping for the week. This usually worked out because if Jude was hungry when shopping, you’d end up buying half the grocery store…which still happened sometimes; he was sixteen, and he was growing fast. Which meant he had become a black hole when it came to food.

The other reason he shopped with you was because he’d grab things that he could make for nights when you were late coming home, or just couldn’t bring yourself to cook. Plus, he had a better memory than you did at the end of a busy week, and he’d make sure nothing on the list was forgotten.

You always made two stops on shopping day; Costco for the big, bulk buying, and the local grocery store for the perishables like deli meat, produce, and dairy products. Costco was done first, and now you were buying the rest of the little things.

“I don’t know—I’m interested in art,” Jude started, “but I don’t know if I want to make a career out of it. I’ve heard that making a job out of a hobby could make you start to hate it.”

It was true that he liked art, and he was very good—at least, you thought so. His drawings seemed so masterful, but you also didn’t understand much about art. You paid attention when he tried to explain different styles, and would take him to museums, but it all went over your head most of the time. You understood “art pretty,” and that was about it.

“Well, have you talked to your teacher about it? She always says such nice things about your art,” you asked.

Jude threw a package of shredded cheese into the cart. “Yeah, I have…but she seems, I don’t know, kinda spacey? I don’t think she’s the best person to place my future in.”

“Maybe you should talk to the school counselor. Make a list of three or four things you may like as a career and sit down with him,” you suggested. College and career talk was always a bit of a sore subject for you; you had such dreams of college, then never applied. You had met your ex your junior year, and slowly, all your dreams for yourself had vanished.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when you noticed Jude dart across the store, away from you. You followed in a panic, pushing your cart and wondering what happened. But your eyes widened when you saw what he had, and you slowed to a walk. Jude hadn’t been running away from you; he was heading towards something. Or rather, someone.

“Oh my god, are you Sonny? From ‘Ask a Dad’ on youtube?” Jude asked the man he had run up to.

The man turned towards Jude, and you gasped; it was absolutely him. “Oh!” he said, surprised before smiling. “Y—yeah, that’s me.”

“Can I get a picture with you? Please?” your son asked.

Sonny seemed genuinely taken aback, and you suddenly remembered your manners. You steered your cart over to the two, giving Sonny an apologetic smile.

“I’m so sorry, sir—I hope my son didn’t offend you,” you said, reaching and grabbing Jude’s arm. He muttered a soft, “but mom, it’s Sonny,” to you, but you just tightened your grip in warning.

Sonny smiled warmly at you, and you couldn’t stop the butterflies in your stomach; he was even more attractive in real life. “No, it’s fine! I’ve just never been recognized in public before—I was a bit shocked. But absolutely you can have a picture.”

You released Jude’s arm and watched in surprise as they took a selfie together. You had no idea Sonny even lived in New York, let alone shopped in the same store as you. Almost unconsciously, your eyes drifted to his shopping cart, curious. He was buying a lot of vegetables, and a lot of ingredients to make things. You knew from his videos that he made his own pasta noodles, and you saw the makings in his cart.

“There we go,” Sonny said after the picture was taken, and you flicked your eyes back to him, embarrassed about being so nosy.

Jude turned to you, “do you want a pic, mom? You’re a bigger fan than I am.”

Sonny looked to you, those bright blues locked to your eyes, and you felt like the store went up about ten degrees.

“No, no, I’m okay,” you managed, smiling sheepishly. “I’m sorry for interrupting your shopping,” you added on, turning your cart around, planning to take your son and flee.

Sonny’s smile widened. “It’s really no problem; it’s nice to know I have at least two fans of the show.”

“Um, only two?” Jude said. “Your videos get thousands of views!”

Sonny blinked, obviously confused before he covered it was a smile. “Ah, I guess I don’t pay much attention to it. It’s just a little hobby.”

Embarrassed enough for the rest of your life, you linked your arm with Jude’s. “Okay, let’s let Sonny get back to his shopping—we still need to finish ours.” You turned to Sonny, “thank you for being so kind; it was a pleasure meeting you.”

“Pleasure’s all mine,” he replied, eyes crinkling with his grin. God, he’s cute, you thought, and your face heated. Unable to think of what to say, you turned and walked away, dragging your son with you.

Once far enough away, you said, “we need to work on your manners, young man. How should you approach people?”

Jude groaned, rolling his eyes. “Excuse me, sir—but mom, it was Sonny! He’s, like, famous!”

“That doesn’t mean you treat him any differently than anyone else,” you asserted. But even so, you were glad that he seemed just as nice as he did in his videos. It would’ve been devastating if he had been a jerk to your son.

Shaking the thought from your mind, you continued shopping, always keeping one eye on Jude and another checking your surroundings, almost hoping to run into Sonny again, if only to see that smile directed at you once more.

It wasn’t until you were home, groceries put away, that Jude showed you the picture. Sonny had a hand up in a wave, and it was then that you noticed he still wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.

#sonny carisi x reader #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfic #fanfic #my writing

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txbbo · 3 years

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I've been debating making this because this is definitely not what my blog is known for and I was worried that people wouldn't want to see it, but with the amount of shit im seeing on twitter it's compelled me to make this because I'm so frustrated.

I feel like I could make 100 posts about 'Cancel Culture' and it wouldn't be enough, so I'm just going to focus on what caused me to write this tonight - the Tommy situation. *Warning for a VERY long post below*

To be clear, Tommy has been in 'hot water' on twitter for the past couple weeks, roughly starting with the KSI collaboration where he made a joke about dream stans.

Last week, when the SBI 'exposing account' got made and twitter hyped it up, someone made a Tommy account and made a thread of things he needed to be '''educated''' on: https://twitter.com/idktommyinnit/status/1379158964148002821?s=20

I'll let you read it for yourself (and come to your own conclusion) but to me.... half of this stuff does not require a twitter thread? Breaking it down accusation by accusation:

1) 'The Mexican accent' - the clips show he is clearly only doing it when copying big Q (who famously exaggerates his own accent) and there is zero malicious intent (Big Q is also IN the 3 clips mentioned in the thread, and obviously didn't tell Tommy it was offensive). There's debates in the comments from people who think it is offensive and people who don't, so I'm not trying to pick a side. To avoid accidentally offending anyone, maybe it is best for him to stop, but the way twitter acts as if he was purposefully doing this to offend people is just not true.

2- 'Making a slave joke' - Even saying that feels wrong, because it suggests Tommy is doing something awful. Instead, they are referring to the 'bit' that Tommy, Techno, Tubbo and Ant were involved in, when Tommy and Techno took Tubbo and Ant as their slave. People are taking this vod and using it to accuse Tommy of being insensitive to Black people, but I think people are just assuming the worst. Slavery existed long before the transatlantic slave trade and still exists today. This is a role-play server - Tommy 'forced' Ant to work for him and used the word slave, which to me is exactly what was happening? People 'murder' others on the SMP, people 'kidnap' on the SMP, people are 'terrorists' on the SMP, and all happen without issue. To add, Ant is a WHITE man. Tommy taking a WHITE man as a slave is not something uber problematic.

3- 'His reply to Techno's 'murder is bad' tweet'. - I get people saying that Techno's initial tweet was insensitive, but saying Tommy's agreement to this from almost over a year ago is something notable and worth addressing is just super nitpicky and is clearly only in there to pad out the thread. It also makes me wonder what other CC's interacted with it and if THEY should be cancelled too (according to twitter).

4 - 'The saying slurs' tweet / jokes about 'whats the worst word you know' - This one I can kinda see how people might not like it. However, it's clearly a 'poke' at his friends, making them seem like bad people. To me, its in the same vein as 'Tubbo is a Tory' or when Tubbo shoots back that 'Tommy is a Nigel Farage fan'. They're obviously not, but its making fun of your friends by saying they are, and mockingly making them out out to be bad people.

5- 'Covid jokes' - People are taking jokes he made about him 'having covid' and saying he shouldn't joke about this, even going as far to linking it to asian hate crimes. I don't even know how to explain that that this is just? not a 'cancellable offence'? I'm sorry but if I hear anyone in my family coughing I make a little joke that 'they better not have covid' and I know other people do. I have someone in my family who is extremely vulnerable to Covid and if they caught it, would quite literally die, but I can understand that jokes like these are harmless. The whole internet had a running joke that we were in a 'panoramic' or 'Panera' or 'insert any word that sounds like pandemic.

This thread got a lot of attention and anything he tweeted afterwards was spammed with the link and there were so many people upset that he hadn't addressed it. I saw so many people say how 'upset' and 'disappointed' they were in him.

Going on to today, this happened: https://twitter.com/khasiid/status/1380611890104139776?s=20

I get it, it looks bad. But for context (which the tweet doesn't give), the reply was only up for less than a minute. It was obvious to me, even BEFORE Tommy addressed it in his stream (clip here: https://twitter.com/cowrpse/status/1380640046202593283?s=20 ) that it was a mistake. In the clip, he clearly acknowledges his mistake and seems embarrassed. To me, this situation should just be laid to rest because a mistake does not need this much attention, but twitter disagrees.

In case it wasn't obvious by now, the tide is turning against Tommy and people are less willing to ignore genuine mistakes and assume the worst.

Today, during his birthday stream people were clearly already waiting for him to mess up. Around half way through, he started saying 'finna' out of context and Tubbo joined in. This led to tons of tweets telling him he was misusing AAVE, and while there were plenty of people willing to be patient and educate, there were also people seeing this as an example of him being a 'bad person' and someone who should be 'without a platform'. I think people forget that not everyone has the same internet upbringing as they do. In general, I think its noted that the misuse of AAVE is something that has just recently been brought to attention. I learned about it through tiktok and stan twitter, and I don't think it's unimaginable that a British 17 year old boy (who is not active on either) has never heard of 'African American Vernacular English'.

Just for a fuller picture, today has also brought about another 'criticism' that I just had to address.

1) 'Tommy made a KKK joke' - Like the 'slavery' point, saying this is extremely misleading. It makes people think the worst. Here's the clip: https://twitter.com/ghostburz/status/1380673589612011522?s=20

Here, Tommy and Tubbo are both joking about Tubbo's 'bit' of naming his alt streams 'aaaaaaaaaa', 'bbbbbbb', 'cccccc', etc and how it would've been bad if it was 'kkkkkkkk' (for obvious reasons). That is literally it. It is a less than 20 second clip. Acknowledging that people woulda thought about the 'KKK' is not him 'not understanding Black issues', its a throwaway joke about the obvious.

Lastly, someone on twitter has made a tommyinnit (address asap) doc - https://docs.google.com/document/d/1tZEZtBzikS-EYYkssfFtwVOoFqOwCK0zhStLe6H1wCc/edit

I've basically already covered everything in this document, but I wanted to mention how extremely 'guilt trippy' the whole thing is. I struggled to come up with the perfect word for the situation, and I am open to hearing other peoples opinion, but as I have mentioned none of these things Tommy has been accused of were done with malicious intent, and some I believe don't even need addressed at all.

'slavery is a source of astronomical trauma for black people, and isn’t something to be taken lightly if you’re to look into the horrors of the slave trade."

and "Oftentimes they are the last words we hear before we die and it really is not Tommy’s place to joke about words that affect us so negatively."

Are extremely emotional words for a 17-year-old boy to hear on his birthday, for stuff that I believe has been taken out of context and blown out of proportion.

I really feel bad for him, because such a large proportion of twitter (which ofc is the loudest side of the fanbase) is angry at him and is demanding (as the document says) ''either a stream or twitter thread/twitlonger to addressing this' and 'a long and serious apology instead of a short statement pre-stream'.

We all know how twitter works, and unless his apology is perfect (which to me means apologising for stuff that he should't have to, as explained in the thread), twitter will continue with this weird hyper focus on everything he does, and it's not going to end well.

Twitter's mentality of 'putting everything this person has done that could ever be considered problematic' into one neat little thread is so unhelpful and counter intuitive. I got overwhelmed reading some of the stuff people were saying about him, I can't imagine how he feels.

I feel like I have more to say but at risk of writing an essay longer than my actual work I have to do, I'm going to end here.

#this was incredibly cathartic to write #turns out im not just a c! Tommy apologist LMAO #tommyinnit #dream smp #tommyinnit neg #tommyinnit critical #tommyinnit crit #Tommy crit #Tommy neg #twitter neg #cancel culture #mcyt crit #mcytwt crit

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howelljenkins · 4 years

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As a muslim Iraqi American with a significant tumblr following, I feel as though I should let it be known exactly where I stand when it comes to Riordan’s statement about Samirah. I have copied and pasted it down below and my reaction to it will be written down below. This will be the first time I have read it. If you want to engage with me or tell me that I’m wrong, I expect you to be a muslim, hijabi, Iraqi American, and from Baghdad. If you are not, I suggest you sit down and keep quiet because you are not the authority on the way I should be represented.

Like many of my characters, Samirah was inspired by former students of mine. Over the course of my middle school teaching career, I worked with dozens of Muslim students and their families, representing the expanse of the Muslim world and both Shia and Sunni traditions. One of my most poignant memories about the September 11, 2001, attack of the World Trade Center was when a Muslima student burst into tears when she heard the news – not just because it was horrific, but also because she knew what it meant for her, her family, her faith. She had unwillingly become an ambassador to everyone she knew who, would have questions about how this attack happened and why the perpetrators called themselves “Muslim.” Her life had just become exponentially more difficult because of factors completely beyond her control. It was not right. It was not fair. And I wasn’t sure how to comfort or support her.

Starting off your statement with one of the most traumatic events in history for muslim Americans is already one of the most predictably bad moves he could pull. By starting off this way, you are acknowledging the fact that a) this t*rrorist attack is still the first thing you think of when you think of muslims and b) that those muslim students who you had prior to 9/11 occupied so little space in your mind that it took a national disaster for you to start to even try to empathize with them.

During the following years, I tried to be especially attuned to the needs of my Muslim students. I dealt with 9/11 the same way I deal with most things: by reading and learning more. When I taught world religions in social studies, I would talk to my Muslim students about Islam to make sure I was representing their experience correctly. They taught me quite a bit, which eventually contributed to my depiction of Samirah al-Abbas. As always, though, where I have made mistakes in my understanding, those mistakes are wholly on me.

As always, you have chosen to use “I based this character off my students” in order to justify the way they are written. News flash: you taught middle school children. Children who are already scrutinized and alienated and desperate to fit in. Of course their words shouldn’t be enough for you to decide you are representing them correctly, because they are still coming to terms with their identities and they are doing this in an environment where they are desperate to find the approval of white Americans. I know that as a child I would often tweak the way I explained my culture and religion to my teachers in order to gain their approval and avoid ruffling any feathers. They told you what they thought you’d want to hear because you are their teacher and hold a position of power over them and they both want your approval and want to avoid saying the wrong thing and having that hang over their heads every time they enter your classroom.

What did I read for research? I have read five different English interpretations of the Qur’an. (I understand the message is inseparable from the original Arabic, so it cannot be considered ‘translated’). I have read the entirety of the Sahih Bukhari and Sahih Muslim hadith collections. I’ve read three biographies of Prophet Muhammed (peace be upon him) and well over a dozen books about the history of Islam and modern Islam. I took a six-week course in Arabic. (I was not very good at it, but I found it fascinating). I fasted the month of Ramadan in solidarity with my students. I even memorized some of the surahs in Arabic because I found the poetry beautiful. (They’re a little rusty now, I’ll admit, but I can still recite al-Fātihah from memory.) I also read some anti-Islamic screeds written in the aftermath of 9/11 so I would understand what those commenters were saying about the religion, and indirectly, about my students. I get mad when people attack my students.

And yet here you are actively avoiding the criticism from those of us who could very well have been the children sitting in your classroom.

The Quran is so deep and complex that its meanings are still being discovered to this day. Yes, reading these old scripts is a must for writing muslim characters, but you cannot claim to understand them without also holding active discussions with current scholars on how the Quran’s teachings apply today.

When preparing to write Samirah’s background, I drew on all of this, but also read many stories on Iraqi traditions and customs in particular and the experiences of immigrant families who came to the U.S. I figured out how Samirah’s history would intertwine with the Norse world through the medieval writer Ahmad ibn Fadhlan, her distant ancestor and one of the first outsiders to describe the Vikings in writing. I knew Samirah would be a ferocious brave fighter who always stood for what was right. She would be an excellent student who had dreams of being an aviator. She would have a complicated personal situation to wrestle with, in that she’s a practicing Muslim who finds out Valhalla is a real place. Odin and Thor and Loki are still around. How do you reconcile that with your faith? Not only that, but her mom had a romance with Loki, who is her dad. Yikes.

First of all, writing this paragraph in the same tone you use to emulate a 12 year old is already disrespectful. “Yikes” is correct. You have committed serious transgressions and can’t even commit to acting serious and writing like the almost 60 year old man that you are. Tone tells the reader a lot, and your tone is telling me that you are explaining your mistakes the same way you tell your little stories: childishly and jokingly.

Stories are not enough. They are not and never will be. Stories cannot even begin to pierce the rich culture and history and customs of Iraq. Iraq itself is not even homogenous enough for you to rely on these “Iraqi” stories. Someone’s story from Najaf is completely unique from someone from Baghdad or Nasriyyah or Basrah or Mosul. Add that to the fact that these stories are written with a certain audience in mind and you realize that there’s no way they can tell the whole story because at their core they are catering to a specific audience.

Yes, those are good, but they are meaningless without you consulting an actual Baghdadi and asking specific questions. You made conclusions and assumptions based on these stories when the obvious way to go was to consult someone from Baghdad every step of the writing process. Instead, you chose to trust the conclusions that you (a white man) drew from a handful of stories. Who are you to convey a muslim’s internal struggle when you did not even do the bare minimum and have an actual muslim read over your words?

Thankfully, the feedback from Muslim readers over the years to Samirah al-Abbas has been overwhelmingly positive. I have gotten so many letters and messages online from young fans, talking about how much it meant to them to see a hijabi character portrayed in a positive light in a ‘mainstream’ novel.

Yeah. Because we’re desperate, and half of them are children still developing their sense of self and critical reading skills. A starving man will thank you for moldy bread but that does not negate the mold.

Some readers had questions, sure! The big mistake I will totally own, and which I have apologized for many times, was my statement that during the fasting hours of Ramadan, bathing (i.e. total immersion in water) was to be avoided. This was advice I had read on a Shia website when I myself was preparing to fast Ramadan. It is advice I followed for the entire month. Whoops! The intent behind that advice, as I understood it, was that if you totally immersed yourself during daylight hours, you might inadvertently get some water between your lips and invalidate your fast. But, as I have since learned, that was simply one teacher’s personal opinion, not a widespread practice. We have corrected this detail (which involved the deletion of one line) in future editions, but as I mentioned in my last post, you will still find it in copies since the vast majority of books are from the first printing.

This is actually really embarrassing for you and speaks to your lack of research and reading comprehension. It is true that for shia, immersion breaks one’s fast. If you had bothered to actually ask questions and use common sense, you would realize that this is referring to actions like swimming, where one’s whole body is underwater, rather than bathing. Did you not question the fact that the same religion that encourages the cleansing of oneself five times a day banned bathing during the holiest month? Yes, it was one teacher’s opinion, but you literally did not even take the time to fully understand that opinion before chucking it into your book.

Another question was about Samirah’s wearing of the hijab. To some readers, she seemed cavalier about when she would take it off and how she would wear it. It’s not my place to be prescriptive about proper hijab-wearing. As any Muslim knows, the custom and practice varies greatly from one country to another, and from one individual to another. I can, however, describe what I have seen in the U.S., and Samirah’s wearing of the hijab reflects the practice of some of my own students, so it seemed to be within the realm of reason for a third-generation Iraqi-American Muslima. Samirah would wear hijab most of the time — in public, at school, at mosque. She would probably but not always wear it in Valhalla, as she views this as her home, and the fallen warriors as her own kin. This is described in the Magnus Chase books. I also admit I just loved the idea of a Muslima whose hijab is a magic item that can camouflage her in times of need.

Before I get into this paragraph, Samirah is second generation. Her grandparents immigrated from Iraq. Her mother was first gen.

Once again, you turn to what you have seen from your students, who are literal children. They are in middle school while Samirah is in high school, so they are very obviously at different stages of development, both emotional and religious. If you had bothered to talk to adults who had gone through these stages, you would understand that often times young girls have stages where they “practice” hijab or wear it “part time”, very often in middle school. However, both her age and the way in which you described Samirah lead the reader to believe that she is a “full timer,” so you playing willy nilly with her scarf as a white man is gross.

For someone who claims to have read all of these religious texts, it’s funny that you choose to overlook the fact that “kin” is very specifically described. Muslims do not go around deciding who they consider “kin” or “family” to take off their hijab in front of. There is no excuse for including this in her character, especially since you claim to have carefully read the Quran and ahadith.

You have no place to “just love” any magical extension of the hijab until you approach it with respect. Point blank period. Especially when you have ascribed it a magical property that justifies her taking it on and off like it’s no big deal, especially when current media portrayals of hijab almost always revolve around it being removed. You are adding to the harmful portrayal and using your “fun little magic camoflauge” to excuse it.

As for her betrothal to Amir Fadhlan, only recently have I gotten any questions about this. My understanding from my readings, and from what I have been told by Muslims I know, is that arranged marriages are still quite common in many Muslim countries (not just Muslim countries, of course) and that these matches are sometimes negotiated by the families when the bride-to-be and groom-to-be are quite young. Prior to writing Magnus Chase, one of the complaints I often heard or read from Muslims is how Westerners tend to judge this custom and look down on it because it does not accord with Western ideas. Of course, arranged marriages carry the potential for abuse, especially if there is an age differential or the woman is not consulted. Child marriages are a huge problem. The arrangement of betrothals years in advance of the marriage, however, is an ancient custom in many cultures, and those people I know who were married in this way have shared with me how glad they were to have done it and how they believe the practice is unfairly villainized. My idea with Samirah was to flip the stereotype of the terrible abusive arranged match on its head, and show how it was possible that two people who actually love each other dearly might find happiness through this traditional custom when they have families that listen to their concerns and honor their wishes, and want them to be happy. Amir and Samirah are very distant cousins, yes. This, too, is hardly unusual in many cultures. They will not actually marry until they are both adults. But they have been betrothed since childhood, and respect and love each other. If that were not the case, my sense is that Samirah would only have to say something to her grandparents, and the match would be cancelled. Again, most of the comments I have received from Muslim readers have been to thank me for presenting traditional customs in a positive rather than a negative light, not judging them by Western standards. In no way do I condone child marriage, and that (to my mind) is not anywhere implied in the Magnus Chase books.

I simply can’t even begin to explain everything that is wrong with this paragraph. Here is a good post about how her getting engaged at 12 is absolutely wrong religiously and would not happen. Add that on to the fact that Samirah herself is second-generation (although Riordan calls her third generation in this post) and this practice isn’t super common even in first generation people (and for those that it DOES apply to, it is when they are old enough to be married and not literal children).

As a white man you can’t flip the stereotype. You can’t. Even with tons of research you cannot assume the authority to “flip” a stereotype that does not affect you because you will never come close to truly understanding it inside and out. Instead of flipping a stereotype, Rick fed into it and provided more fodder to the flames and added on to it to make it even worse.

I would be uncomfortable with a white author writing about arranged marriages in brown tradition no matter the context, but for him to offhandedly include it in a children’s book where it is badly explained and barely touched on is inexcusable. Your target audience is children who will no doubt overlook your clumsy attempt at flipping stereotypes.

It does not matter what your mind thinks you are implying. Rick Riordan is not your target audience, children are. So you cannot brush this away by stating that you did not see the harm done by your writing. You are almost 60 years old. Maybe you can read in between your lines, but I guarantee your target audience largely cannot.

Finally, recently someone on Twitter decided to screenshot a passage out-of-context from Ship of the Deadwhere Magnus hears Samirah use the phrase “Allahu Akbar,” and the only context he has ever heard it in before was in news reports when some Western reporter would be talking about a terrorist attack. Here is the passage in full:

Samirah: “My dad may have power over me because he’s my dad. But he’s not the biggest power. Allahu akbar.”

I knew that term, but I’d never heard Sam use it before. I’ll admit it gave me an instinctive jolt in the gut. The news media loved to talk about how terrorists would say that right before they did something horrible and blew people up. I wasn’t going to mention that to Sam. I imagined she was painfully aware.

She couldn’t walk the streets of Boston in her hijab most days without somebody screaming at her to go home, and (if she was in a bad mood) she’d scream back, “I’m from Dorchester!”

“Yeah,” I said. “That means God is great, right?”

Sam shook her head. “That’s a slightly inaccurate translation. It means God is greater.”

“Than what?”

“Everything. The whole point of saying it is to remind yourself that God is greater than whatever you are facing—your fears, your problems, your thirst, your hunger, your anger.

337-338

To me, this is Samirah educating Magnus, and through him the readers, about what this phrase actually means and the religious significance it carries. I think the expression is beautiful and profound. However, like a lot of Americans, Magnus has grown up only hearing about it in a negative context from the news. For him to think: “I had never heard that phrase, and it carried absolutely no negative connotations!” would be silly and unrealistic. This is a teachable moment between two characters, two friends who respect each other despite how different they are. Magnus learns something beautiful and true about Samirah’s religion, and hopefully so do the readers. If that strikes you as Islamophobic in its full context, or if Samirah seems like a hurtful stereotype . . . all I can say is I strongly disagree.

I will give you some credit here in that I mostly agree with this scene. The phrase does carry negative connotations with many white people and I do not fault you for explaining it the way you did. However, don’t try to sneak in that last sentence like we won’t notice. You have no place to decide whether or not Samirah’s character as a whole is harmful and stereotypical.

It is 2 am and that is all I have the willpower to address. This is messy and this is long and this is not well worded, but this had to be addressed. I do not speak for every muslim, both world wide and within this online community, but these were my raw reactions to his statement. I have been working on and will continue to work on a masterpost of Samirah Al-Abbas as I work through the books, but for now, let it be known that Riordan has bastardized my identity and continues to excuse himself and profit off of enforcing harmful stereotypes. Good night.

#*#og #rr crit #samirah al abbas #rick riordan

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garbagevanfleet · 3 years

Text

Brightest Blue (series)

PART ONE

Pairing: Josh & female!Reader Warnings: None yet. Summary: Things are changing. New state. New school. New roommate. You just pray things are going to click into place. Notes: Here we are everyone. This fic has been a long time in the making, but I’m pretty dang happy with it so far! I made Josh extra lovable and squishy for you all. I hope you enjoy! This fic is edited by the amazing and gorgeous, @lantern-inthenight. And big thanks as always to @myownparadise96. I literally could not have found the motivation to do this fic without you.

MASTERPOST

taglist: @myownparadise96 @n1-party-anthem @valleyd0ll @bigblack-catattack @guitarfingers @thebohemianpenguin @oblvions @hansonobsessed @satingrass-maidensfair

The scenery in Michigan was vastly different than back home. You were used to and comfortable with the nearly unforgiving heat of the American South West, but the farther away you got from home, the more foreign everything seemed. The scrubland slowly started being replaced by emerald green grass and dense forests of towering pines. Once you hit Illinois, little farmsteads were scattered along every road you took, boasting fields thick with corn and beans.

It was a bit over a full day’s worth of driving. You had originally thought you could just drive right through - after all, you were young and you had plenty of caffeine at the ready. In reality, you wound up digesting the trip over two days.

You were a fortunate enough person that you had a reliable car, which made up for the fact that it wasn’t very pretty to look at. It didn’t exactly sip gas, but that had never even been a concern before this - it wasn’t very often that you left home, let alone make a trip across the country. But you were able to breathe a sigh of relief when you started seeing the exit signs for Ann Arbor.

Your parents had been a bit judgemental about you picking a school so far away - they were even worse homebodies than you, and they knew that you being across the country meant they wouldn’t be seeing you until the school year was over - but there was no way you could turn down an opportunity like this one. You had worked your ass off to qualify for a scholarship, knowing full well that there was no way you could afford higher education otherwise. MU hadn’t been your very first choice but with one of the better programs in the country for your desired field, you just couldn’t turn it down.

You had to pull over into a McDonald’s parking lot to pull up the address you were looking for and program it into your phone’s GPS before continuing further into the city. Your mother had been particularly wary about your living situation. See, she was a woman that adamantly liked to have a plan and then stick to it - she didn’t see any value in just letting things happen. “Go with the flow” wasn’t in her vocabulary, but you’d always romanticised the idea. Which was why, when you pulled up to the apartment that you were going to be living in for the next year, it was the first time you’d ever seen it.

You had found the listing on the Facebook marketplace for the area, looked at a couple of pictures, and signed the lease agreement online - all without knowing what you were really in for. You’d been informed that you’d have a roommate when you’d contacted the landlord, but she hadn’t mentioned a thing about the person other than that. All she really said was “no pets, no smoking, and one month’s rent for the security deposit. You had told yourself that it didn’t really matter what the situation was as long as the other person wasn’t outwardly malicious and the place wasn’t infested with pests or anything, even though you knew it mattered a little.

An audible sigh of relief left your lips when you pulled into the apartment parking lot and found that your new home looked well kept. The building had old, slide-up windows, but the brick siding was clean, and the shrubs that lined the property were trimmed and neat. You and your back seat stuffed to max capacity with house plants had made it - and with only a bit of sleep deprivation and caffeine jitters for damages.

After you got out of the car, you grabbed your very favorite potted cactus and found your way into the building, meandering down the dim hall until you came upon the door marked 6. You hadn’t been given a key yet, so you knocked with your free hand and waited until you heard someone shuffling around inside.

You would be lying if you said you weren’t nervous - obviously, you were - but more than anything you were excited. Anxious, maybe? That seemed like the right word.

The door opened to reveal a boy, around your age, hair a mess of curls on the top and shorn tighter to the sides of his head. You were immediately taken aback by the depth in his eyes, chocolatey and warm.

“What’s up?” he asked casually, leaning against the door frame, a pair of old-school headphones dangling from his hand.

You frowned at him slightly, suddenly terrified you’d gotten the wrong apartment number. You weren’t sure how you’d live with that embarrassment, especially if you had to live next door to him - you’d just be that stupid girl that didn’t even know where she lived. “Oh, I think I’m your new roommate? This is number six, right?” You peered around the other side of the open door, just to confirm.

A beaming grin spread over his soft face, showing you his blindingly white teeth and the deepest pair of dimples you’d ever seen. “Oh, cool, yeah. Come on in.”

He stepped aside, giving a dramatically flourished bow as a gesture for you to enter. You obliged, and even though this was your new house too, you paused and waited as he shut the door behind you.

“Sorry, I was expecting you yesterday, so.” He trailed off with a sheepish smile and then extended his free hand to you. “Anyway, I’m Josh.”

You shifted your cactus to one arm so you could shake his hand. “Y/N. Yeah, sorry, it took me longer than I expected to get here. Which is why my stuff apparently showed up before I did.”

You eyed around the apartment, spotting boxes of your things in piles. The original plan your parents had come up with was to have you rent a U-Haul, but since you’d never driven anything bigger than your Camry, you had quickly shot that idea down. After some expert negotiating, they had agreed to hire a moving company. You hadn’t had the balls to ask what a service like that had set them back - decided instead that it was better if you didn’t know.

“Oh yeah,” he replied, rubbing at the back of his neck. “It all showed up yesterday at like noon. One of the boxes was open a little, and I saw records so I looked through them to make sure you weren’t some kind of freak.”

It was more of a statement than a warning, and the smile he gave you showed not even a shred of an apology so you just smiled back. “Find anything you like?”

He turned on his heel and headed into the kitchen - connected to the living room by a huge square archway. “Your music taste is,” He paused, opening a cupboard and pulling down two mismatched glasses. “Eclectic.”

You laughed at him, bending to gently set your plant down on a side table. “That’s true.”

“But I found plenty I could listen to, so I guess you’re okay. You want some juice?” he asked as he held up a paper carton of store brand orange juice

“That would be lovely,” you agreed, standing stick straight the way you did when in the presence of new company. “My dad used to take me to a lot of thrift stores and we’d go home with a minimum of two records per trip.”

“I love thrifting,” he said simply, giving you an alarmingly serious look. “There are three here, I think. Every once in a while you can find something really worth keeping. I have kind of a ‘catch and release’ policy where if I don’t instantly know what I’m going to do with an item, I leave it there, but I think - like - a third of my wardrobe is from thrift stores.”

You listened, feeling oddly entranced by the way he was handing you thoughts as they came to him. There was something truly honest about it - a quality people back home didn’t seem to have. It was charming.

He brought your glass of juice to you and then motioned to the rest of the apartment. “You want the grand tour of Casa De Joshua-” He gave you a pointed look and a cheesy grin. “And Y/N?”

You breathed a laugh at him, nodding as you sipped. “Please.”

“Okay, try not to get lost - this is obviously the living room. I do most of my living here as the name would suggest. I found this couch on the side of the road - actually almost all of my furniture is adopted.” As he explained, he was gesturing to items like Vanna White.

The couch looked. Well-loved. You could tell just at a glance that it was probably past it’s prime when Josh had stumbled upon it, but it did look comfortable, and it wasn’t like you had a couch to offer, so you were happy with it.

“I have this TV but it’s really only for movies and stuff because I’m twenty-two and I’d rather die than pay for cable. But there are literally hundreds of DVDs in the TV stand that you are welcome to peruse at your leisure,” he informed, his hands gesturing almost arbitrarily as he talked.

You followed as he moved on through the archway. “This is the kitchen. All of the food lives here. There’s lots of stuff, but I try to just make two bigger meals per day. I don’t have a real ice tray so I’ve been using a chocolate mold- Well anyway, our ice will be in the shape of wiener dogs.”

You were shocked at the laugh that escaped you, genuine and uncontrolled. He grinned over at you, clearly also surprised - but pleased with himself for getting the reaction he was aiming for.

“I think I can live with that.”

“Good,” he agreed simply, giving you a new kind of smile - something sweeter. After a beat, he motioned down the hall with his eyes, letting you lead. “The bathroom is this way. The water takes like three or four minutes to get hot. I realized that I have a lot of products for some reason, but I condensed them all into this one area in the corner just in case my new roommate was a girl, and you are so that’s great. I’ll probably get a shelf.”

There was a proud quality to his voice like he felt gentlemanly for letting you have all the space you needed. For some reason, that made you feel warm and fuzzy.

“And what if your new roommate had been a boy?” you inquired with a smirk.

He put a finger on his chin, taking on a contemplative look for you. “Hmm. Then I guess I slowly would have moved my stuff back to the cabinet - probably just one thing per day so he wouldn’t notice. Unless he had a lot of makeup or something, then I’d just let him have it.”

He grinned as you teasingly shook your head.

“This way is the sleeping quarters. My room is there on the right and yours to the left.”

You stepped into your new room and let a sigh of relief. Two huge windows took up a lot of the far wall, framed underneath by large sills. The space was bright and roomier than you’d pictured. Your bed was set up in the very middle of the room, but you already knew exactly where you wanted it to go. For some reason, you had been concerned that you wouldn’t like the space, but it was kind of perfect.

“This is great,” you breathed, turning to him and giving him a sly grin. “Wanna give me a hand moving my furniture around?”

He pretended to consider for a moment until you spoke again.

“My mom sent money for pizza while I get stuff unpacked,” you said coyly. “If you needed any convincing.”

He laughed, showing you his teeth. “You drive a hard bargain. Okay, I’ll help as long as I get to look through your stuff while we move it.”

You gave him a questioning look, earning a one-shouldered shrug in return. He looked benign enough standing there, propped against the door frame with a goofy upturn to his lips, so you relented.

“Deal,” you agreed.

You were positive you would not have been able to move stuff without his help. For being a slender boy, he seemed to easily be able to get things where they needed to be. He dutifully helped you shove your furniture into place - your bed against the window wall, your desk and vanity on the wall with your closet door. Then, bless his little heart, he helped you move it all again when you decided you didn’t like the arrangement (but not without some light griping).

One by one, you brought in your boxes from the living room and you allowed him to poke through them, perched on your bed. He flipped through your books, thumbing pages of ones that piqued his interest - you could only imagine that he was already planning on borrowing some of them. He reacted similarly to your framed photos, as he unwrapped them from their packing paper.

When you got your record player set up, he put on a vinyl and started to hang your art prints on the wall where you instructed him to. The look of concentration on his face was rather endearing as he held a few nails between his teeth and hammered them into the wall, one by one. There was a time or two you were convinced that he was going to mutilate his thumb, but he didn’t, and when the last picture was hung, you breathed a sigh of relief.

You called in a pizza, adorned with his requested toppings as you hung your clothes into your closet, your phone tucked against your ear and shoulder for maximum efficiency.

Plants collected on your bed until there was no more room for them - after that, he started setting them on the floor as he brought them in from your car. He didn’t seem to be judging the sheer amount of them, even though he had every right to.

“It’s going to look like a jungle in here,” he stated finally as he took a bite out of a slice of pizza that he was holding like a taco, his eyes raking over all of the foliage scattered around your room. Rather than sounding like he was teasing, his tone seemed excited.

You grinned at him, starting to arrange them on the window sill and your bookshelf that had only ever served you as a plant shelf since you’d bought it. “Plants are my passion. Botany major,” you explained as you fluffed up your Monstera’s huge leaves.

“Ooh.” He raised his eyebrows at you, pulling one of his legs up underneath him on your bed - now fitted with sheets. “I think that’s going to be nice. Give it some life in here.”

You grabbed another slice from the pizza box on your nightstand and tried to think of the right tone of voice to use to ask the next question. “How long have you lived here by yourself?”

He hummed, eyes flicking around distantly as he thought. “Well, I’ve lived here just over a year, and my first roommate dropped out and moved back home about...six months ago?”

“Have you been lonely? You seem like a social guy.” You gave him an empathetic look but he just shrugged at you. You hadn’t known him long enough to know for sure, but you suspected he was more affected than he was letting on.

“I mean, a little lonely. But I got used to it for the most part.” He paused for a good couple of seconds before a smile spread across his lips. “And Penny’s kept me company.”

“Oh, does your girlfriend stay here too?” you prompted, trying to remember if you’d seen any feminine looking items lying around that weren’t yours.

“What? No,” he said under a chuckle and stood, gesturing for you to follow him across the hall.

The second you walked through the doorway, you were met with the smell of incense sticks and linen. His room was dimmer than yours and kind of cramped with all of his mismatching furniture, but he had a huge bed - you thought it could easily fit three people in it. There were some clothes strewn about around a laundry hamper by the door and you tried to not be jealous that his closet seemed to be about twice the size of yours.

He crossed the room to crouch in front of a coffee table that he seemed to be using as a catch-all. The varnish was worn off the top of it in rings because sitting on the coffee table was a globe of water and a calico colored goldfish swimming around aimlessly inside of it.

“Ah, so this is Penny,” you giggled as you bent over next to him. When the fish spotted him, it rose to the surface of the water, opening its mouth in demand for food.

He grinned down at it. “Light of my life. We’re not allowed to have pets but I figured that a fish didn’t count.”

You hummed, admittedly a bit charmed by the whole situation. “But don’t goldfish require a lot of space?”

The smile fell from his face, adopting a level of concern you hadn’t yet seen from him as he peered over at you. “Do they?”

Immediately, you felt guilty for putting that look on his features. Your brain kick-started - trying to think of a way to make it right again. “I think so? Maybe we can find her a small tank? Put a few little plants in there for her?”

Josh nodded at you, stroking his fingers over the glass with a frown. “I’m a bad dad.”

“No, no!” you assured, putting your hand on his head but then removing it instantly when you realized that you didn’t really know him, he’d just already made you feel like you did. Either way, you figured it would be inappropriate to touch him. “You’re great. She looks really happy.”

“She’s great at begging for food, so don’t get tricked,” Josh instructed after a moment, seemingly able to put his concerns aside to jest you.

You nodded in agreement. “I’ll be ever vigilant,” you promised, making him smile again.

He stood back up, so you did as well.

“Well, I’ll give you some time to get comfortable in your room,” Josh said, sitting back on his bed. “Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

“I promise I will,” you assured, tapping your hand on the doorframe on your way out.

By the time the sun was set, your room was shockingly well put together. The emotional rollercoaster that was the album Rumors helped you keep on task, losing yourself in the music so it didn’t feel like work at all. You hadn’t been expecting it to come along so quickly, but you guessed that was because you hadn’t anticipated such a friendly roommate. The nesting had always been your favorite part, so you took your time to enjoy placing out all your knick-knacks and photos.

You took a break to shower when you decided you were done for the day, reveling in the feeling of the water after such a long time in your car - He was absolutely right about how long it took to warm up from ice cold. When you got out and changed into your pajamas, Josh was sitting in the living room with a laptop across his legs.

“You wanna chill?” he asked when he heard you padding down the hall, shutting the lid of it and setting it on a side table. “Or if you’re too tired, that’s okay too.”

“No, no. I’d love to talk.” You sat next to him, leaving a comfortable amount of room between you as you pulled your knees up to your chin. “Tell me more about yourself,” you requested, tugging a blanket from a beat-up wicker basket on the floor and wrapping it around your body.

“Hmm, okay,” he started. You wondered how long it had been since he had to introduce himself to someone new. “I’m from a tiny little town here in Michigan. I’m the oldest of four - two brothers and a sister. My brother, Jake, also attends MU and lives just off campus.”

You frowned at him. “Wait, why wouldn’t he live with you?” you asked through a disbelieving laugh.

“He lived with me long enough,” Josh explained in a humored tone. “There are only so many people where I’m from and well - we wanted to meet new people, you know?”

“I guess I should be grateful for that.”

“Yeah, probably,” he teased and then paused to think. “I’m in performing arts - I’m actually putting on a production around Christmas with some elementary school kids.”

You suppressed the aww that was threatening to pass your lips. “You like kids?”

He beamed you a smile, shaking his head. “Love them. I want to have like ten of them someday.”

The thought of him surrounded by kids made you soften. You were genuinely shocked about how easy he was to talk to - how easy he was to like. You had never thought in a million years you’d get along with your roommate so well, let alone the first day meeting them.

“I hope you get to,” you said as genuinely as you could muster, prompting him to give you a grateful smile.

A yawn escaped you before you could hide it, and you quickly breathed an apology, but he just waved you off.

“You must be exhausted from that drive,” he said, his voice soft. “You should get some sleep.”

You nodded in agreement and gave him a thankful smile. “Is it okay if I sleep out here?”

The look on his face was quizzical, forcing a laugh from you. “Why would you do that?”

“I have this tradition where whenever I’m in a new place, I always sleep in the living room on the first night. It’s good luck.”

“Whatever you say.” His lips pulled back into an unconvinced smirk. “Well, yeah, you live here now too, so you can sleep wherever you’d like.”

He disappeared into his room for only a moment before popping his head back out, fingers wrapped around the door frame.

“Do you mind if I join you?”

You tried not to look too taken aback by the question, but you could feel your cheeks flushing warm. You raked your eyes along the couch, entirely positive that there wasn’t enough space for the two of you to lay out on it together fully - at least, not without being pressed flush against one another. However, his face looked innocent and soft - not a single tint of mischief colored across his features.

“Yeah, that-. I guess that’s okay,” you agreed sheepishly with a shrug. “But I’m not sure we’ll both fit if I’m being honest.”

He frowned questioningly at you, his brows lacing together until he realized what you thought he meant. His face instantly turned a light shade of pink to match yours. “No, no,” he quickly assured in between a breathy laugh. “I’m not going to sleep with you - I’ll take the recliner.”

“Oh, right.” You gave a nervous laugh of your own, cursing yourself out in your head for being so dull.

You were still well embarrassed as you made a nest of blankets on the couch and he brought out a pillow for you when you realized yours were still tucked deep in your bag of bedding. When each of you was situated on your respective pieces of furniture, he flicked the light off with a comfortable sigh.

It was silent for a moment before he spoke again, his voice taking on a tone that was far too smug for your liking. “You were awfully quick to agree to sleep next to me. You don’t have a crush on me, do you?”

You knew he was teasing, but your heart rate still managed to pick up under the pressure. You had never been particularly good with awkward social situations; you rolled your eyes in the dark, thankful he couldn’t see how red you were. “No, Josh. I do not have a crush on you.”

“Okay,” he said through a melodic laugh, and you got the feeling that he’d gotten the reaction he was aiming for from you. “Should we be best friends though?”

You snorted a laugh of your own, wanting to be annoyed at how likable he was, but falling short. “You are the most peculiar person I’ve ever met, I think.” You curled up, clutching your blanket tight to your body. “But yes. We can be friends.”

“Okay, cool - I’ll order matching t-shirts for us.” You could hear the pleased grin he was wearing, making you feel warm and cozy. You pulled the worn blanket up to your chin.

“See to it that you do.”

Author’s Note: okay, I hope you guys like it! please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list or removed from it. I’m using the same taglist from my Jake!fic, so no hard feelings if you don’t want to be tagged!

#josh fic #josh kiszka fic #josh x reader #joshxreader #greta van fleet fic #gvf fic #brightest blue fic

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