#just in case any other late newcomers like you would like to know about The Continuation That Never Was

[taylorman2274]

We Care About You (Part III)

Those who have been with you since the beginning discuss the differences they've noticed with and without your presence.

Content Warning(s): Jean, Kaeya, & Albedo Story Quest Spoilers; Mondstadt Archon Quest Spoilers

Notes: SAGAU; GN!Reader; [T/N] = Traveler Name

Word Count: 2.1k

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Taglist: @silverstarred; @victoria1676; @angelofdarkness2; @areaderspov; @andromeda-gay; @ash1; @mercy-not-merci; @toodledoodl3;

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The sun had fully risen over the horizon by the time all the stores in Mondstadt's main plaza had opened for the day. Blanche was finishing setting up her fruit trays on the counter by the time Marjorie and Timeaus arrived at their respective stores. Sara, on the other hand, had already opened up Good Hunter half an hour ago. This was in case there were any early birds or if any of the aforementioned shopkeepers wanted a quick bite to eat before work.

Today, the Traveler and Paimon were examples of early birds, as the two were enjoying breakfast from Good Hunter. However, as they were eating their respective meals, they were approached by Raymond, a Knight of Favonius.

"Morning, Traveler. Morning, Paimon," he greeted. "Sorry to interrupt your meal, but I'm here to inform you that your presence has been requested by the Acting Grand Master. She requests that you head on over to headquarters immediately."

Paimon groaned. "Does Jean really have to summon us this early? Paimon hasn't even finished her Fisherman's Toast yet."

"I apologize once again, but it would be rude to keep the Acting Grand Master waiting," Raymond replied.

The Traveler shook their head. "No worries. I'm just about finished anyway." They got up from their seat. "Would you like for me to get you a to-go box, Paimon?

"Get a to-go box? Has Paimon not already proved to you what she's capable of? Watch this!" Paimon proclaimed before chowing down the rest of her Fisherman's Toast as quickly as Paimonly possible.

...Said way involved burying herself nose-deep in her plate and practically inhaling all the food left on her plate. The Traveler and Raymond even had to hold their hands up to their faces to protect themselves from any flying food.

Maybe they shouldn't have bought her a triple stack...

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Despite being invited by Jean herself, The Traveler decided to knock on her office door. It was only proper manners.

"Enter."

They opened the door and allowed Paimon to enter first before letting themselves in. As soon as Jean recognized them, she gracefully got up from her chair and walked around to the front of her desk.

"Thank you for coming on such short notice, Honorary Knight. I know you must be tired.”

The Traveler shook their head. "It was no trouble. Paimon and I were already up to begin with."

"Is that so? It's a shame my cuties didn't think to greet me in the library first thing in the morning. Your company can certainly revitalize this mage's energy." Came a voice to their left. Both newcomers swiveled their heads to look at the other visitor partially hidden in the corner.

"Lisa? Were you called here by Jean as well?" questioned Paimon.

"I was," Lisa confirmed, perplexion etched on her face, "Though I haven't been told why yet."

"I called you both here for the same reason. However, not everyone has arrived yet. We're still waiting on two more people. Once they’ve arrived, I’ll explain everything," Jean explained.

To pass the time, the Traveler, Paimon, and Lisa began to catch up with each other on what had happened since they last met while Jean leaned against her desk and peeked at the ticking clock on the wall from time to time.

She wasn't worried about the other two members being late. They each were fellow Knights of Favonius members after all. They know the standards that need to be set in order to maintain their position.

A few minutes later, everyone in the office could hear rapid footsteps from outside the room. Not even a second later the door was thrown open by Amber who quickly entered the room and put her hands on her knees to catch her breath.

pant ... pant ... "Sorry I'm late, Jean. I got caught up with something."

Jean shook her head. "Not to worry, Amber. We haven't started talking about anything yet." Jean snuck a peak behind Amber towards the open door. "Did you happen to see Kaeya on the way here?"

Amber straightened up and nodded her head. "I did, actually. He's..."

"Right here."

Kaeya smoothly walked into the office and quietly shut the door Amber left open behind him.

Jean gave a quick nod. "Good. That should be everybody." Everyone gathered around Jean in a semi-circle. "I bet you're all wondering why I've called you here this early."

"To put it simply, I'd rather get this discussion out of the way before we all start work for the day. This mainly concerns the Traveler, but I promise you all are important to this discussion as well."

Jean turned her attention to the Traveler. "First off, how are your adventures going?"

The Traveler looked at Jean in confusion. Jean called all of them here just to ask them about their adventures? "...Pretty well I guess. I've hit a few obstacles here and there but it was nothing I couldn't handle."

Jean nodded. "That's good to hear. And what about this latest obstacle you're facing?"

Now it was Paimon's turn to be confused. "Latest obstacle...?" she murmured, "Oh! Do you mean [Y/N]?"

Amber, Lisa, and Kaeya all widened their eyes in surprise as they looked at Paimon. Jean nodded once again.

"Yes. That's exactly the reason why I've called you all here. Although I may not know much about [Y/N], I understand that you all have had some experience with them. If you could tell me all that you know about them, I'll get a better understanding of what our next action should be."

The Traveler nodded in understanding before looking around at the others. "Should I go first, or do you all want to share your thoughts now?"

Amber was the first to reply. "Sure! I'll go first. In my opinion, the Traveler and [Y/N] are the same person, but also different people. When I first met the Traveler outside of the Whispering Woods, they introduced themselves as [Y/N]. However, once we dealt with the sources of Stormterror's power in the abandoned Four Winds' Temples, they seemed much livelier. That was when they explained that they were actually [T/N], and [Y/N] was this 'ghost or entity-like thing' that possessed them against their will.

Lisa nodded. "It's true. When we were traversing through the last temple, I felt as if my body was not under my control, but I was still conscious to witness what I was doing. It was scary at first, but after a while, I kind of got used to it."

Jean raised a skeptical brow. "And why is that?"

"Because [Y/N] and I were trying to achieve the same thing. They guided me through the temple, defeated all of the enemies, and destroyed Stormterror's crystal, all things that I originally intended to do myself."

Jean brought a hand to her chin. "Interesting..."

Kaeya raised his hand, signaling to speak next. "It's not just that, either. Later on when I had the Traveler lure some Treasure Hoarders to some ruins, one of them accidentally activated a Ruin Guard while attempting to flee. We managed to take it down, of course, while being guided by [Y/N], but I noticed that I had gotten stronger in between fighting the treasure hoarders outside the ruins and fighting the Ruin Guard. We defeated the Ruin Guard a lot quicker than I thought we would."

Jean furrowed her brows. "But Ruin Guards are a lot harder to defeat than mere Treasure Hoarders. Surely you must be exaggerating?"

Kaeya chuckled. "I can assure you, Jean. The strength I gained when guided by [Y/N] is no exaggeration. Surely you must've felt their presence yourself?"

"Outside of the day when I got burnout, no. But even then, I didn't exactly feel I was much stronger."

"Oh!" Amber blurted out. "Speaking of getting stronger, I've noticed that [Y/N] has improved some of my abilities as well! For example, the day before we pulled that whole sleeping stunt on [Y/N], we were helping them complete some commissions around Mondstadt. While we were completing them, I noticed that I could suddenly fire two arrows with one shot! Not only that, but I was able to manually detonate my Baron Bunny by shooting at it!"

Amber frowned. “The only downside is that I haven't had much success replicating these abilities when I'm not with [Y/N].”

"So you've noticed as well?" Lisa asked. "I thought I was the only one to notice." She turned her attention back to Jean. "You see, [Y/N] typically has me defeat hydro slimes whenever they appear, and with them I'm normally able to defeat them in one or two hits. However, I wanted to test a theory I've been thinking about recently. So I went to go find a hydro slime and see how many hits it took to defeat it. Just as I thought, it took nearly double the number of hits before it was beaten."

"I see. And is this something that we should look into?"

"No. I just thought it was something worth mentioning."

"Alright then. And when [Y/N] does guide you, is it only to complete commissions?" Jean inquired.

"Oh no!" Amber eyes sparkled. "We've been helping the Honorary Knight and [Y/N] all across Teyvat! It's amazing!"

Jean smiled. "Then you all must be enjoying your adventures, I presume?"

"But of course!" exclaimed Amber. "I've always wanted to see the world beyond Mondstadt and it's just as grand as I imagined."

"That's good to hear." Jean then looked down at the floor and sighed. "...Honestly, there are times when I wish I could throw my work to the side and travel alongside you, Honorary Knight."

"Paimon is certain that [Y/N] would love to have you join their Adventure Team! If it becomes possible, Paimon will put in a good word for you."

Jean chuckled. "Thanks, Paimon." She turned her attention to the Traveler. "And what about you? What do you know about [Y/N]?"

"It's a pretty long story. The first time I ever got a clue as to who [Y/N] was was when I was in the middle of helping Albedo with his research. During the middle of some experiments, I felt their presence leaving. However, almost immediately after they left I saw a bright light in the sky. It only lasted for a few seconds, but when the light went away, I saw that it had come from Celestia!"

Jean looked shocked for a moment but quickly composed herself. She had an image to maintain after all. "Really?! From Celestia?"

"Yes. Albedo saw it as well and it piqued his curiosity. To make a long story short, he found out that for a brief moment, the light that spawns from Celestia forms as if one is opening a door to an unlit room. He hypothesizes that whoever [Y/N] is, they are not from Celestia but somewhere beyond it. Maybe even another world entirely."

Kaeya smirked. "From another world, eh? So does that mean [Y/N] is an alien?"

The Traveler shook their head. "I don't think so. Most of the worlds I traveled to before Teyvat were inhabited by humans. I would assume that if [Y/N] is from another world, they would be human as well.

"How certain are you?" inquired Jean.

"I'm like 90% certain they're human," the Traveler confirmed. Amber hummed in thought.

"Do you think they might be a god?"

“A god whose eyes are focused on a world separate from theirs? Sounds unlikely to me,” countered Lisa.

"Regardless..." Jean interjected. "[Y/N] has been absent for a while now, correct?" The Traveler nodded. "Have you thought about continuing your journey without them should they not come back?"

"I've had the thought. But I'm willing to wait however long is necessary if it means I get to see them again."

Jean put a hand to her chin. "Are you sure? I would gladly be willing to have Amber, Lisa, or Kaeya travel with you for the foreseeable future."

Paimon nodded. "It's been almost a week since that incident, and yet Paimon has never seen the Traveler lose any determination at all!"

Jean nodded as well. "I see. In that case, I believe that is all I have to say for this discussion. It was nice meeting you once again, Honorary Knight."

"The same goes for you, Jean.”

Everyone exchanged goodbyes with each other and, minus Jean, prepared to leave the office. However, just before they left...

"Hey. Is it just me, or is it getting brighter outside?"

Kaeya looked towards Amber. "I'm sure it's just the clouds moving past the sun."

Amber shook her head, keeping her gaze towards the window. "No... I didn't see any clouds when I first came in..."

The room was silent. Some looked to the window while others kept their attention on Amber.

Suddenly, Paimon gasped.

"Paimon!" The Traveler shouted in surprise. "What's wrong? What happened?"

"...They're back..." she whispered.

The Traveler tilted their head. "Who's back?"

Paimon was too stunned to speak, but it didn't take long for the Traveler to figure out why. Their eyes grew wide in shock.

"[Y/N]!!" They suddenly exclaimed as they bolted past everyone. Everyone quickly followed the Traveler outside.

Once they all gathered outside. They quickly turned their gaze towards Celestia. Just as they thought, a light, though less noticeable during the day, was slowly getting brighter.

"Sorry, Jean! We've got to go! Don't wanna be late!" Paimon quickly said before everyone aside from Jean was teleported away.

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"It sure is taking a long time to check for updates," you thought.

After countless research, note-taking, and several anxiety breakdowns, you were finally ready to hop back onto Genshin and meet up with the people who you now realize are alive and sentient.

"I hope all this makes a good impression on them."

The door appeared.

With one click, you would be back to where this trouble all started…

Breathe in… Breathe out…

click

The door opened.

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Author Side Notes: I looked at my fanfiction and decided that it needed LORE™

Once again, I'll be editing this chapter over the next upcoming days. I sort of prefer it as opposed to keeping this in my drafts. I don't want you all waiting for the next part too long!

[kiarastromboli]

𝐁𝐞𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧:

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐡𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧.

𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭 𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨 𝐱 𝐲/𝐧

⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱

⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱

𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘: jealous!reader, stalker!Matt, just a bit suggestive 🤏🏼

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: Y/N will meet Sarah, who doesn't seem to particularly please her, and after spending the morning waiting for him, our two main characters will finally be able to enjoy their dates together.

ℕ𝕠𝕥𝕖: I know the really spicy part takes time to arrive, but don't worry, it's coming soon.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏, 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐.

⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐫𝐞 𝟑:

Here we are, Saturday.

This morning when I woke up, I was in high spirits. I was going to spend my day with her, well, at least half of my day, given that I still had to work this morning.

Last night, I had a lot of trouble falling asleep; I couldn't stop thinking about today and how it would go. I was apprehensive, expecting both the best and the worst, but I really didn't know what to expect. Even though she had made advances, Caleb, her so-called friend, had clearly hinted that he also wanted the place I coveted.

So naturally, I spent my night on social media trying to find Caleb's accounts to learn more about him. And to be honest, it wasn't very difficult to find.

"Caleb_the.1, seriously?" I thought when I found his Instagram account. This guy was so self-centered it almost made me want to vomit.

His bio consisted of bro-ish phrases to show that he was an alpha athlete above the others, it was ridiculous to the point of being laughable. How can you hang out with this kind of guy, y/n? Seriously, aren't you ashamed?

Scrolling through his profile, I found about fifteen shirtless photos of him, of course, it goes without saying. And honestly, it's not very prudent of him to expose his life so much on social media. In less than five minutes, I knew which gyms he frequented, his favorite restaurants, and all the places he liked to go daily, giving me the opportunity to learn a little more about him.

But for now, he'll have to wait. My priority is y/n, and I'll deal with his case after our appointment.

"You're late!" Sarah said to me when I arrived at the bookstore.

"Sorry, traffic was jammed this morning," I lied. I didn't have an excuse; I was late only because I spent an extra 20 minutes scrolling through Caleb's profile this morning to learn more.

"Matt, since when does traffic matter to you when you're on your bike??" she said, confused.

"It's none of your business, Sarah, stop asking me questions," I said, shaking my head.

"Yeah, you're lucky I'm your friend; otherwise, I would've fired you!" she said before turning around and going back to her tasks.

It's true; I'm lucky to have a friend like Sarah. I probably don't think enough about thanking her.

I went back to my post and continued my morning, chatting a bit with her; there weren't many customers today.

"Matt, you're lying; you're not going to tell me you've never thought about that before!" Sarah said, shocked that I've never had any weird fantasies about a celebrity.

"No, never, and I find it weird that you were obsessed with Zac Efron until the end of high school!" I said, laughing.

"First of all, I wasn't obsessed! I just had a little crush on him, and secondly, everyone had a crush on that guy back then!" she said, justifying herself.

Meanwhile, I hadn't noticed, but someone had entered the shop at that moment.

"Yeah, in middle school, Sarah, not in high school!" I replied, laughing.

"Screw you, Matty!" she said, chuckling and giving me a light push.

We were interrupted by the voice of a newcomer behind us.

"Hey," she said, her voice a bit sharp.

I immediately turned around, recognizing y/n's voice.

But something was different; her voice wasn't as gentle as usual, and I couldn't see her usual smile.

"Oh, hi, y/n," I replied, smiling.

"Um, this is Sarah, my colleague. I didn't know you'd come so soon," I said, scratching my neck.

"Hi," Sarah said, smiling and extending her hand.

"I've got my hands full, sorry," y/n said to Sarah, giving her some sort of fake smile.

"Yeah, I thought I'd come a little earlier to bring you some coffee," y/n said, turning to me.

"Oh, um, thanks, you didn't have to," I said timidly.

"No, of course, I insist. It's the least I can do after you gave me a ride home last time!" she said, casting a fleeting glance at Sarah.

I'm not sure what game she's playing, but I don't get the feeling she likes Sarah too much.

"Yeah, well, I'll leave you guys. I still have a lot of work. Matt, don't linger too long; we still have to do inventory," Sarah said before leaving us.

A brief silence ensued before I decided to speak.

"It's really nice of you to get the coffee, y/n," I said, smiling.

"It's nothing, I got you a decaf," she said, handing me my coffee.

"Wow, wait, this is my favorite. How did you know—" I started to say before she cut me off.

"Just lucky, I guess," she said, smiling.

Maybe this girl knows me a little better than I thought. I thought I was harder to read than that.

"Well, thank you very much. I finish in 2 hours. If you want, you can browse the bookstore while you wait for me," I said.

"That works out perfectly; I was in the mood to read today," she said, smiling before heading off to explore the bookstore.

It was nice working with her around. We exchanged little glances, and most of the time, she would smile at me.

Honestly, I could get used to working under these conditions.

"Matt, focus. I don't mind you having your friends over here, but I can't handle the customers and inventory all by myself!" Sarah said, getting annoyed, interrupting yet another exchange of glances with y/n.

"Sorry, if you want, I'll take care of the inventory and close the shop today," I said, trying to make amends.

"Okay, but hurry up. We have 45 minutes left before closing, and there's still a stack of books in the back room," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Yes, ma'am," I said, smiling, and she couldn't help but smile back before I went to do what I needed to do in the back room.

POV of Sarah:

I watched Matt walk into the back room, smiling and shaking my head. How could I stay mad at him after all?

Anyway, I headed back to the counter to tidy up the things lying around when I noticed Matt's friend heading towards the back room.

"Hey, sorry, but you can't go in there," I said, stopping her in her tracks and pointing to the sign on the door that specified "Employees Only."

She stopped and turned to face me.

"Sasha, right?" she said, crossing her arms.

"It's Sarah," I replied.

"Yeah, whatever, Sarah. Have you had feelings for Matt for a long time?" she asked, catching me off guard.

"W-what?" I said, furrowing my brows.

"Let's not play this little game, please. It's not going to work with me. You and I both know you have a huge crush on him, and frankly, it's pathetic. You can see he's not interested in you, so I suggest you keep your distance and let those who actually have a chance take theirs," she said, staring me in the eyes.

I didn't even know how to respond. I couldn't deny it; everything she had just said was true. But there were much better ways to say it.

There was something off about this girl. She had this threatening air about her towards me when I hadn't done anything to her.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go join Matt," she said, before striding off and pushing through the door without giving me a chance to say anything.

Back to Matt's POV:

I heard the door open, thinking it was Sarah coming to say goodbye.

"What, already? It's closing time, and I haven't finished the inventory yet!" I said before seeing y/n appear.

"Oh, it's you," I said, a bit surprised because she had no reason to be here.

"Yeah, I asked Sarah if I could come give you a hand," she said, smiling.

"And she said yes?" I asked, surprised because Sarah is usually strict about the rules, so it would have been strange for her to let y/n in without any objections.

She paused for a moment as if she was taking time to think before answering me.

"No," she said, chuckling, "I waited for her to turn her back before sneaking in here," she confessed, and I laughed.

"I feel like you're going to get me into trouble," I said, smiling.

"Come on, it's not like I'm going to steal any books. Plus, I think it's stupid to restrict access; it's just a back room," she said, rolling her eyes.

"And honestly, I find your colleague rather annoying," she said before covering her mouth.

"Sorry, I spoke before thinking," she said, embarrassed, and I chuckled at her action.

I couldn't help but find it cute.

"Firstly, access is restricted because there are some pretty old books here, the kind that should absolutely not be touched unless you're a professional," I began to explain.

"And secondly, yes, Sarah can be annoying, I'll give you that, but she can also be really nice. I'm sure you'd get along great with her," I said, continuing to do the inventory.

"We'll see about that later. For now, let me help you with all this so we can finally go for a ride on the bike," she said, chuckling before coming to help me.

With y/n's help, I managed to finish the inventory just in time for closing.

As we were about to leave the back room, Sarah shot me a look and nodded towards a section of the bookstore, indicating she wanted to talk to me privately.

"I'm going to do one last round in the aisles just to make sure everything's in order before closing. Wait for me here," I said to y/n, realizing Sarah wanted to talk to me alone.

I walked over, and she pulled me a bit further into the bookstore to ensure y/n couldn't overhear us.

"Hey, what's going on?" I said, chuckling.

"Listen, Matt, I'm your friend, and as such, I can't keep this to myself, you understand?" she began, confusing me.

"Your friend y/n, or whatever she is to you, I don't trust her. You shouldn't hang out with her; that girl is really weird," she said.

Here we go.

Seriously, Sarah, instead of being happy for me, you're having a jealousy fit?

"Okay, I don't know where you're going with this, Sarah, but y/n is a great person, and I won't let you badmouth her just because you're jealous," I said, rolling my eyes.

"Jealous? Matt, she threatened me earlier, specifically telling me to stay away from you! I'm not jealous!" she said, getting annoyed.

My y/n do something like that?

It's not possible; she's way too kind and gentle to threaten someone. I knew Sarah had a crush on me, but I didn't think it was to the point where she'd throw a jealousy fit as soon as I was with another woman.

It disappoints me to see her acting this way; I thought we were past that.

"Whatever you say. I'm done with this," I said, rolling my eyes before turning to leave, but she grabbed my arm.

"If you don't want to believe me, that's your problem, but I'm telling you, Matthew, there's something strange about that girl. You should stay on your guard," she said before letting go of my arm and going to collect her things to leave the bookstore.

I stood there for a moment, feeling confused, before joining y/n.

"Is everything okay?" she asked, smiling.

"Yeah, ready to go?" I asked her, returning her smile, and she nodded.

Once the bookstore was closed, y/n and I hit the road before stopping at Central Park.

"Central Park, you couldn't have found a more cliché place," she said, chuckling once she removed her helmet.

"I thought it was the company that mattered, not the place," I said, pretending to be offended.

"Okay, don't start, Matt!" she said, pointing her finger at me, and I smiled.

"You know what, there's a pretty nice museum nearby. Let's go there," she suggested.

"So, no stroll in the park," I said, putting on a falsely sad face.

"We'll do that after your park stroll, idiot. Come on, follow me," she said, rolling her eyes.

We walked for a few minutes before finding ourselves in front of the museum she mentioned.

We entered and strolled around, observing the artworks. It was at this moment that I learned something new about y/n—she's been passionate about photography since she was a child.

We spent a good two hours in the museum, chatting about everything and anything. We almost forgot that lunchtime had long passed.

"Oh my God, it's 1:30 in the afternoon, and we still haven't eaten," she said, chuckling when she checked the time on her phone after leaving the museum.

"Really?" I asked, surprised, and she nodded.

"That's your fault; you talk way too much," I said, chuckling.

"Yeah, like you don't love that," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Are you hungry?" I asked her, smiling.

"A little, and you?" she said, looking me in the eyes.

"A bit," I replied, shrugging.

"Hmm..." she hummed thoughtfully, scanning the surroundings.

"Look, a hot dog stand!" she said excitedly, pointing at the stand before grabbing me by the arm and running towards it.

"And you thought strolling in Central Park was cliché, huh?" I teased once we arrived at the stand.

"Shut up," she said, smiling, before turning to the vendor.

"Two hot dogs, please!" she said cheerfully to the vendor.

"So, I don't even get to choose my meal?" I frowned.

"No, just be quiet and take what I give you!" she said with a smirk, and I chuckled.

"No ketchup!" she added to the vendor as he reached for the sauce compartment.

I hate ketchup, but I don't think I've ever told her that.

She grabbed the hot dogs and paid before I could say anything.

"Ugh, sorry, I hate ketchup, I didn't think to ask if you wanted any," she said, handing me my hot dog.

So it was just a coincidence? You and I probably have much more in common than I could have imagined...

The more time I spend with you, the harder it is for me to believe that you're not the literal definition of perfection, y/n.

"It's okay; I don't like ketchup either anyway," I said, smiling.

"Really??" she said, surprised.

"Yeah, I can't stand it," I said, chuckling.

"Or maybe you're just trying to copy me, huh? I see what you're trying to do, Matty!" she said, narrowing her eyes before taking a bite of her hot dog.

Matty, so we're already at the nickname stage?

"Yeah, that must be it. Keep dreaming," I said, shaking my head and taking a bite of my hot dog.

We continued our little walk to the park.

"Can I be honest with you?" she said, turning to me.

"Go ahead, I'm listening," I replied.

"These hot dogs are really terrible," she said, grimacing, and I laughed.

"I agree," I replied, and she laughed too.

"But I really want to finish them; I hate wasting food!" she said, pouting like a little girl.

Y/n, if only you knew how much you softened my heart.

"It's alright, sweetheart; I'll finish it for you if you can't," I said, smiling.

"Matt, you're so cute, bro," she said, blushing before turning her head.

"Bro?" I chuckled. "That hurts."

"What were you hoping for?" she said, rolling her eyes. "That I'd call you baby?" she said, smiling.

"Okay, go ahead, mock me some more," I said.

"With pleasure, baby," she said with a smirk.

"You're not funny, y/n," I said, finishing my hot dog.

"Maybe, but you adore me anyway," she shrugged, offering me her hot dog for me to eat as agreed.

"I can't deny that," I replied, taking her hot dog.

We continued our walk, chatting about everything and nothing.

I wasn't usually talkative, but with her, everything was so effortless. I loved listening to her; she always had something interesting to say.

She was full of surprises, always having a different opinion or perspective on the world, which made me feel less alone.

"Oh, Matt, look, an ice cream stand!" she said, hopping.

"You're such a child, y/n, you know that?" I chuckled.

"Yeah, I love life, sue me for it," she said, raising her hands sarcastically.

I shook my head before following her to the ice cream stand.

"Oh my god, they have rose-flavored ice cream, it's my favorite scent; you absolutely have to try it!" she said excitedly.

"I don't really feel like ice cream," I started to say before she cut me off to talk to the vendor.

"Two rose-flavored ice creams, please," she said, turning to me with a big smile.

I looked at her bewildered before bursting into laughter; she's completely insane, but I love it.

"Here you go," she said, handing me my ice cream before happily continuing to walk in the park.

How can she have so much energy and smile so much?

It's true; this girl was like a sun; she lit up every place she went.

And me, on the contrary, I felt like I was the moon next to her.

"So, how is it?" she said, smiling, referring to my ice cream.

"Delicious," I replied.

"See, I knew you'd like it," she said proudly.

"Oh, wait, you have some ice cream right there," she said, chuckling before approaching me.

Standing on tiptoes, she placed her hand on my cheek and used the finger of her other hand to wipe the ice cream from the corner of my mouth.

"Here," she said, looking into my eyes and offering me her finger with the ice cream to lick.

Her gaze and expression changed at that moment.

What are you playing at, y/n? Is this your way of making suggestive gestures towards me? If so, you have absolutely no idea the effect you're having on me right now.

I took her finger into my mouth without breaking eye contact, and she bit her lip.

I can't be imagining things; she's not as innocent as she pretends to be.

She then returned to standing normally on both feet before taking a bite of her ice cream, still looking me straight in the eyes.

Fuck, does it really take so little to get me hard?

"Mmmh, my favorite," she said, closing her eyes before turning around and starting to walk again as if nothing had happened.

Is that all? Are you going to leave me hanging like this?

If you only knew how much I dreamed of being in your ice cream's place right now, y/n...

From that moment on, it was difficult for me to focus on what she was saying. My mind was filled with ideas... of all kinds.

But regardless, we resumed our conversation, stopping on a bench to finish our ice creams.

"Fuck," she said, taking her phone to check the notification she had just received in the middle of our conversation.

"What's wrong?" I asked her.

"It's my dad, he needs me for his charity gala next weekend," she said with a sigh.

"His charity gala?" I asked.

"Yeah, it's something my dad organizes every year. It's a big event where he invites his most influential friends to raise funds for cancer research," she replied.

"Oh, um, do you want me to drop you off?" I offered.

"I'm really sorry to cut our outing short like this," she said with a sad look.

"Hey, it's okay, don't worry about it. We can hang out again this week," I said, putting my hand on her back and smiling.

"You're the best," she said, hugging me, and we headed back towards my bike this time.

"Where do you want me to drop you?" I asked as I put on my helmet.

"Take me home, I need to pick up some stuff anyway," she said, putting on her helmet as well.

We got on my bike, and I started driving towards her place.

This time, she seemed to hold on to me a little tighter, as if she didn't want this moment to end.

Oh, so you'd do anything to not have to leave either?

Once we arrived at her apartment complex, I parked, and she got off, taking off her helmet.

"I really hate that I have to go. I wish I could stay with you," she said, looking down at the ground.

I took off my helmet before responding.

"Y/n, you have important things to do, and I'm not going anywhere. You'll come back to me when you have time," I said, placing my hands on her cheeks without thinking.

She looked up at me, and damn, how badly I wanted to kiss her.

Is that what I should do? She's not saying anything anymore, maybe that's what she's waiting for from me?

"Thank you, Matt," she said softly, smiling after several seconds of staring into each other's eyes without saying anything before stepping back and turning to go inside her place.

And I missed my chance again, what an idiot.

Next time, I promise you, y/n, I won't let my chance slip away.

⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱

Taglist: @mayhem-72 @tillies33ssss @junnniiieee07 @bernardenjoyer @whicked-hazlatwhore @nicksmainbitch @vickyzloserz @stingerayyy2

[cr4yolaas]

the night shift — prologue

masterlist | day 1

it's cold. too cold.

it's a little too late at night for any customers to arrive. tokyo is deemed one of the many cities that don't sleep, but with how quiet it is inside and out and the snow collecting softly on the windows, it seems that the world has come to a slumber.

the overhead lights flicker, slightly. someone would have to squint their eyes to see it. the freezers hum in the background, forever running for the satisfaction of others. a gentle melody that neither of them knows the name of loops from the speakers. it's just about the same as every other branch in the city.

and yet, for them, it's a sanctuary.

to escape from the reality of their lives is a blessing, and they find that solace in the walls of the convenience store, almost every night.

he likes to observe her. when their shifts align and they find themselves seated together behind the register, just like every other night, he observes, and observes, and observes, but he can only absorb so much. the color of her hair. the tint of her cheeks. the little habits.

he knows there's more to it. that, beneath the mass of flesh and muscle and bone, there are more intricacies than he could count on his fingers. but he reminds himself, every night, that there is no point in bothering himself with it. because, after all, they're just coworkers.

the alarm on his phone, set at exactly 11:30 in the evening, rings inside his pocket. they're both pulled out of the reservoirs of their minds and dropped into something more secure, something more familiar. a routine.

while he gets up to sanitize the counter, she moves to the register, the metal clinking at the little drawer pops open (he doesn't know, but she counts the money in her hands and wonders what it'd be like if it were all hers, just for a day). the heater shuts off and the door to the break room clicks shut. old shoes squeak against old tile while pen meets paper, little notes jotted into her mind that she'll (hopefully) remember to tell her manager about tomorrow.

silence washes over like a blanket. they don't fight it.

a sense of agreement, albeit not verbally disclosed, is shared between them — that much has been established since they were both employed, standing side by side in a line full of newcomers with too little shoulder space. there is no need to say anything. there is no need to do anything, other than their job. it's routine. it's necessary. it's comfortable.

but, the night shift drags on. and the more it does, the more he wants to break the routine.

ᡣ𐭩 thank you for choosing to read the night shift !!

ᡣ𐭩 this is one of my favorite projects ever i think. i'm so so excited for it

ᡣ𐭩 i wanted to introduce the ambiance and general vibe first so i hope this little prologue captured it well ^_^

ᡣ𐭩 in case you missed it, the convenience store that kags and yn work at is a common branch in this au. therefore it's not exactly a mega company but it's not a family business either

ᡣ𐭩 yn texts the manager's son bc he's an old man who stays around just for the fun of it. may or may not hate the son's guts, bc he's a bit of a privileged nepo baby

ᡣ𐭩 kageyama is a people watcher imo. bc of his analytical skills that are constantly applied to volleyball, i feel like he tries to apply similar skills to those around him sometimes. and who better than his coworker !!

ᡣ𐭩 anyways. i hope this smau turns out well !!

taglist: @causenessus @strawberryuri @iiwaijime @savemebrazilhinata @tiramizuloz @conrad4life13 @wyrcan @zazathezaer @nperoconelcositoarriba @winniethepooh-lover

italicized names cannot be tagged. check your account settings!

[valeskawhore]

“Y/n Dracula?”

PART TWO!!!!

Word(s): 1.3k

Character(s)/parings: Wednesday x Fem! Vampire! Reader! (GirlxGirl)

Series/show(?): series— 2/??

*~*~*~*~*

Dark, creepy, and dead silent. Those are the words I would use to describe Nevermore. The weatherman wasn’t kidding when he explained that there was barely any sun in Jericho, vermont. It was like autumn all year round.

Everything that caught my eye was like copy and paste. It’s like the town was under some spell or trance that caused them all to be depressed at the same time. Not one smile on our way here, no one stopped to wave or say hello like usual when they saw a fancy car drive by.

They glared, as if they were offended by newcomers.

A town with this small of a population— it was to be expected that they didn’t easily accept newcomers, the town had quite the interesting history of banning outcasts.

Alec tried making small conversation here and there but gave up halfway through when it finally sunk in his mind that I was making no attempts to answer him or even care about what he had to say.

I felt a guilt bubble in my stomach, he didn’t deserve my wrath but it was the only thing on my mind so I just did my best to ignore him without trying to lash out. It wouldn't help my situation anyways. Either way, I'm going to this ridiculous school and there's nothing I can do about it.

Two things caught my eye,

One was an old antique shop, and the other was a fairly busy cafe on the corner of a T-section. It had fairly good business, something they were selling must have been good enough if it was still up and running. Though, by the looks of it, we’ll see how long that’ll even last.

I like shity cafe music… Maybe that’ll be something to do when I finally get permission to go into town.

*~*~*~*

“Hmm, Nevermore doesn't usually accept newcomers this late into the semester.” Principal Weems adjusted her glasses, skimming through my paperwork. “You’d have to do some extra classes in order to catch up on credits.”

“I don’t mind the work, that won't be a problem.” I added in.

“Well… Miss Edith, given your 4.0 GPA, that doesn't surprise me. You haven't failed a grade, never missed a day of school, your IQ level is above a 150– which is more than intelligent enough. “ she smiled, setting the paperwork to the side and giving me her full attention. “Besides,” she smiled once more, “Who am i? To turn down the one and only– Count Dracula’s only living heir. I'm surprised he enrolled you as late as he did.”

I kept my posture straight, crossing one leg over the other. “He is something.”

She laughed, “I would expect nothing less from a Dracula.”

I let out a breath of relief, smiling slightly. Her blue eyes scanned my figure, looking me up and down as if judging me right then and there. If I wasn't as sharp as I was– I'd probably say something dark was swirling around in her eyes as she smiled at me. Something felt off about this woman, I just couldn't put my finger on it just yet.

Finally, she let out the question she’d been holding in,

“You are aware of how to control yourself around others, correct? Especially normies??” she asked, “Because as you and I both know sweetie, being dracula means you’re a lot more… Different from others.”

‘Ah… that’s what she wanted to ask.’

“What all can you do exactly? Miss y/n?”

I dropped my head, suddenly feeling ashamed. She’s right, I am different. And not because I am a half-blood but because, unlike other vampires who can take medication to control themselves– I was a problem.

I was stronger than others, faster, and I craved actual blood. I couldn’t be out in the sunlight for too long on actual days when the sun was finally out.

I could glamor people to get what I wanted but in-order for that to work, I needed to be superior to them in power. In my case, that wasn’t a problem. I haven’t met someone I couldn't glamor… yet.

Every second that passed by, I felt more and more like I was being judged. She expected an answer while staring at me so intently, I thought she was going to burn holes in my skull.

I finally gave her one,

“I.. have my own personal supplies on things I need. As for power, I can't be out in the sunlight without my ring for too long, but besides that– pretty much the same for other vampires. I'm able to keep human food down long enough for it to digest, but that still doesn't stop the urges.”

She stared for a long time, scanning my face for any traces to which I'd be lying.

After a few moments, she smiled, feeling satisfied with my lie. “That’s perfect, I trust you can manage your own supplies correct?”

I nodded.

*~*~*~*~*

“Welcome to Aurora Hall! We are so excited to finally have someone new joining us!” The young girl buzzed with excitement, damn-near shaking in her boots while she held the door open.

“I’m your new roommate! My name is Abigail but my friends call me Abi! We’re friends right!? Since we’re roommates!? That definitely automatically makes us—”

“Woahhhhh honeypie, I understand you are very excited– but let’s give Edith sometime to settle in, hm?” My dorm mother explained. Marylin? I believe her name was.

Very nice women.

I smiled nervously, not really knowing what else to do. Abigail was definitely someone I'd have trouble getting along with, I realize I might have to set boundaries if I'm going to make this work.

Shrugging everything off, I picked my suitcases up from the ground and gently carried them into the room.

It was huge. The room was already divided into two separate halves and it was already obvious which one was Abigails. She specializes in terrakinesis– she had a green thumb alright, abi could make anything grow.

Her side of the room was filled with green and black vines growing up the walls with flowers blooming around every corner. They spread everywhere around her side of the room. Abi also had dozens of small plants littered around her room, growing all types of flowers– And believe me when I say, Abigail absolutely adored flowers.

DVD players and radios stacked up on one side of the room, next to her bed. Almost working as a nightstand without the drawers. She had an electric guitar also, with a microphone setup with speakers.

Maybe this chick wasn't so bad afterall.

The other side of the room, my side– was as to be expected. A queen sized mattress with a large frame reaching the ceiling sat in the corner neatly.

Definitely compliments from my father– added with two wide dark burgundy dressers to match. Everything else was completely barren, waiting and ready for me to unpack.

I gave a small smile, turning back to my dorm mother when she called my name.

“Here,” She smiled at me, holding a flower pot out. “I try to match just the right flower to all of my girls. This one is a—”

I cut her off, “Wolfsbane. Which is highly dangerous.. Also more commonly associated with werewolves, witches……. and even—”

“That's right, Vampires…I found it fitting for the one and only heir to the Dracula legacy.” She smiled widely.

I stared at her, holding the flower.

After a moment, I smiled as widely as she did, my fangs releasing from the roof of my mouth. She was taken back by how quickly they ejected,

“Thank you,” I laughed, “How very stereotypical of you.”

Marylin struggled to smile, taking a few steps back before making her way to the doorway. “Well uh,” she coughed, raising her hand to her mouth nervously, “Let me know if I can do anything for you girls.” She excited the room quickly after, shutting the door with a loud click.

I Laughed almost immediately, retracting my fangs. A skill only a dracula ascendent could master. We could almost pass off as a normie if it wasn’t for the restricted sunlight, the pasty white skin, dark red rimmed eyes and the two sets of retractable fangs.

I began to unpack my suitcases, Abigail offered to assist but I shot her down and did my best to be polite about it. Having a ‘bright’ ‘innocent’ girl like herself put away packaged bags of blood among other things was too much of a headache to have to deal with. She understood, and offered to give me space and time to unload everything.

I thanked her, nodding my head. “I’ll be faster unpacking alone.'' I threw in, not wanting to sound like an asshole. “Give me a few minutes and I'll let you assist me in grabbing my uniform and schedule.”

Abigail almost jumped out of her skin at the opportunity. “Yes!!! iI would love it too! Of course, no problem– I'll be down the hallway when you're ready!”

As soon as she left the room, I sighed.

“Father…what have you gotten me into now..?”

[shiraishi--kanade]

Any thoughts on the fact An starts the vivid bad squad story and not kohane (the actual leader)? Could An have become the leader of VBS?

I've been thinking about this a lot, and basically, when I approach it from a "what were they trying to do here?", my answer boils down to this:

Kohane is obviously an audience self-insert. I'm sorry to all Kohane lovers hurt by the statement, but it's just true from a writing perspective (it doesn't necessarily diminish a character unless done badly). She is the newbie that's a newcomer to both the culture we end up exploring on Vivid Street; while the same can be said for other characters, especially Minori, who is also in the same position, Kohane is more unique because of the nature of VBS's story.

The said nature is the fact that VBS centers RW to an absurd amount, and a lot of said story is characters discussing it's impact and analysing it. So, obviously, we need to actually see what the talk of the town about - and though we don't fully actually "see" RW until as late as LUtF, that little An flashback in the beginning gives the reader a rough idea of what's going on, as well as who An as a character is.

Both are important - it acts as a hook to the main story and gives us a connection with An, a very important character who we, a Kohane stand-in, need to connect with in order to cheer for them and against Akito and Touya, who initially act as an antagonistic force. And we need to cheer for Vivids vs Rad Dogs because that's the only way the reveal of Touya's inner conflict and Akito's "caring side" is going to be effective and make you go "ah, what's why these two were briefly assholes" instead of just always knowing they were good and sitting there bored until they all team up. Even in the very beginning, when Kohane wanders into WEG, we already know who An is and that she's a good person, so we also cheer for Kohane to get closer to her. It gets you emotionally invested in the main conflict of the story. You get the idea.

Therefore, showing us RW was a necessary writing choice. However, Kohane was... Absolutely not there. Also, it would have not worked well for the audience to just wander around aimlessly and lost with Kohane. Honestly, because Kohane doesn't even know what she's doing with herself pre-main story, she has nothing to tell the reader in the opening - remember that she... Basically doesn't have a backstory, unfortunately. Choosing An to narrate the scene instead is a very obvious choice to come from that.

That's my explanation for this situation as a writer. As a fan, however, I find the idea of leader An to be very fun. I think she both has the potential to become one, narratively, in the same way Honami did - she, along with Akito, has served as VBS's "public face" for a long time, and was also the one who offered them to team up - and I also think that the idea for An to be a unit leader was on the writer's mind and then ended up being scrapped is also possible (likely to follow the Shounen formula and/or trying to avoid outright repeating personality archetypes for leaders, in which case An would resemble Tsukasa too much on the first glance, in contrast to timid Kohane). I'm honestly happy that scene exists either way, so as much as An being the leader would be very cool for me personally, as an An oshi, I'm absolutely content with her not being one lmao.

Thanks for the ask!

[voasprofile]

replaced au pt 2

loosely (and by that I mean literally like one scene was taken out of it)based on a movie that came out recently guess what it is and you'll get nothing

gn reader but was referred to as 'minx' can that be used to refer to people who are gn or male alligned

cause for me minx means a cunning person, almost like calling someone a fox

but apparently google says a minx is a 'an impudent, cunning, or boldly flirtatious girl or young woman.'

so if you're not comfortable being referred as a minx scroll away

female yuu

nb! reader

forgor to mention that characters may also be ooc

also rushed so maybe shitty

damn a lot of my fics are rushed I just noticed

replaced au pt 1

malleus couldn't believe it, he just couldn't!

after saving the seven overblot victims from dying, without a prize or even that much appreciation

she was suddenly branded a villain?

malleus knows humans can be just as possessive as anyone of them here, but was that really the case?

but his suspicion really arose when the people once could be called her friends weren't acting consistent

one day acting like the ground y/n walks in were as pure as a newborn baby's soul

others acting like y/n was any other student

those incidents, and the headaches the nrc population has been dealing with. especially the first years

some days leona too is suspicious some days he could care less

the lazy days, he's bothered with the smell of dried roses and cinnamon

this discourages him to go to populated areas, as it concentrates there 

other days he himself is drowned in such scent

but really who cares it's just a scent

leona hasn't been attending any of his classes, going to populated areas including the open area in his dorm in days 

the headaches from the perfume was gone. god who even wears that much perfume

so he finally went out, he didn't know where to go but somewhere no one was would satisfy him

he walked and walked until it lead him to a familiar trail, ramshackle

he quickly turned back, no use in getting associated with people like that

but a few feet away from him was a bastard, a horned one that is

"what are you doing here?" the bastard asked

"nothing just leaving" he muttered passing him, they were again a few feet apart when he heard the aggravating voice again

"do you believe her?" malleus had asked

truthfully it had slipped his mind, but when the horned one asked about it, he remembered the incident that took place a month ago

"who?" he turned around to see malleus already facing him

"y/n, do you not find anything suspicious?" malleus asked tilting his head to the side

"no" he turned ready to leave as this situation was bothering him

"I did, do you not find the first years once around yuu acting strange? the inconsistencies? the headaches? nothing really?" malleus pressed

getting fed up he answered "yes, I did find something strange. but why would I tell you? do you have something that's useful or interesting for me?"

"I believe that y/n had deceived everyone in the school, and yuu is suffering for it" he replies

damn the one he likes was suffering because he bumped into the newcomer

so he caves "the whole school is covered in this scent, I suspect the one causing the headaches and weird behaviour,  the more people in the area the more dense the scent is" he paused

"like a diluted love potion" 

leona was smart. he may not attend classes, but somehow he still get good grades. so how did he only notice now

a certain minx smirked from the dorm near them

the two planned to go to the headmaster about this

malleus wanting someone with authority to properly locate the problem and punish who did it

leona not wanting to handle it his own

but right now leona was waiting for malleus near the headmasters office, he was late. and this time he did knew where the event was happening

after a few minutes leona got impatient and started to look for him

'damn him, planning this whole thing, dragging me along. then had the guts to leave me waiting?'

he stormed over to the cafeteria, that's where most people are at this hour

his eyes scan the room, landing on one particular table

there, a particularly love sick fae and the newcomer acting as if they were dating the two months they've known each other

but what really bothered him was y/n sent a knowing smirk to him, and went back to being all sweet and gross to the person leona was supposed to be with in the headmasters room

so leona left, maybe it was because of the headache, maybe it was because he felt pity to the ramshackle prefect

someone was knocking on the door, yuu thought that maybe y/n has a visitor so being a good roommate she opened the door

it was leona, so she was sure that it was for y/n

"oh, y/n's out right now" she whispered closing the door

but his foot prevented that

"yuu look, I don't know how to apologize properly. so I'm sorry" he took a big breath before continuing "the new comer love potioned most the school to get in our heads and manipulated us"

the scene escalates as yuu finally breaks

that's why they're villainizing her?

hours of comforting yuu, leona let's her rest

after that hellish month, he can't even comprehend how tired she must be

ending in a comfortable position of him laying on the sofa, and yuu on his chest

"yuu?" he asks thinking she'd be asleep "hmm?" she mumbles

"aren't you angry?" he asks "you know, malleus knew about the potion, he knew about the lies." he slid in

"what?" she couldn't believe it, how could he?

they were friends, now he sides with them knowing that?

"yeah, earlier I went to the cafeteria and saw them acting like a couple" he says 

y'know honesty is the best policy, so he should be honest with her. sort of

"how could he do that to you? I thought you two were close friends" he continues

"I guess we were" she mutters nuzzling her face more into his chest, just wanting to rest

"he really fucked up, I mean your special. but people refuse to see it." he whispers

"you were honest, kind, patient. forget about him, let's expose their lies" he says

"can I even do that? I mean the whole school is at their disposal" she wants to yes, but she doesn't want to lose to a wannabe like y/n

"trust me, I'll make them pay for what they did to you" he says caressing her hair, lulling her to sleep

waking up, she feels the most refreshed she's been in weeks. maybe it's because leona comforted her, or because she slept with him. but whatever

asking about his plan now, she was worried. what if it doesn't work?

but listening to it now, oh it's gonna work alright

"I learnt this yesterday, the staff isn't under their potion, so that's an advantage to us. also there are days where the potion is weak, we'll have to strike then" he says

"but for now, let's collect evidence against her" so that week consisted of yuu following y/n around to catch them doing shady things

but as the days go on, she feels disheartened. literally nothing happened, in fact her previous friends look happier with them than they ever did with her

so she tells herself this is the last day, maybe leona was wrong. there was no potion

following them into an abandoned hall of the school, they enter a room. a library with miscellaneous things as it was used as a storage room of sorts

so she hid behind one of the book shelf, when a strong smell of roses and cinnamon attacks their nose

she held her nose and peeked, what could cause such strong smell

it was y/n filling up a bottle with the contents of an old cauldron, smiling to themselves

yuu took that opportunity to record the whole thing, and stayed back to get a sample of it

once done she immediately met up with leona to tell him what she caught

"then I saw them filling up a spray bottle with the potion, do you think that this will be enough?" she asks him

"this is perfect, you're amazing yuu" he smiles at her

oh no, don't blush don't blush don't blush

"thank you" she smiles back

as yuu was getting evidence, leona was looking to see if the potion was weak today. it was

so the two marched up to the headmages office to tell him everything

to their luck the staff were holding a meeting

their lies, the potion, the hell they put yuu through. with evidence of course, presenting them the video, and the sample

"oh my, to think they would do such thing" crewel mutters

"could you lead us to that room?" crowley asks

crowley was normally laid back, but this this is not okay

the staff went to the room were the potion was brewed, and there they were

standing over a cauldron brewing more, they're assuming after running out

they got startled, dropping the container

"professors! haha what are you doing here" they said fidgeting almost immediately

"puppy step aside, we'll have to inspect the potion you're making" crewel says

y/n trembles. no this cannot happen, they almost won!

their eyes shot from crewel to the other's in the group

who could have known? was it apart of the staff? was it a student? it was yuu!

y/n glared at her

this bitch, how dare she

at a last attempt of escape y/n tipped the cauldron hoping for it to splash on all of them

but before it could really splash, crowley had stopped the liquid mid air and tying them up with his whip

how could they have lost? everything was at their hands! they could've won!

they slumped, giving up. what could they even do now?

heading back to the headmages office, sending anyone who knew how to brew an anti-love potion to a closed classroom then handing it out to every single student

crowley called for a dormleader meeting and that's where he explained everything

everyone was aghast how dare that vile-

he also explains now that they are going through a trial, as a citizen of this world and as an adult. due to the severity of the crime

no they were not imprisoned, but was sent to a secluded building with 24 hours surveillance camera, and a therapist

no they were not satisfied, a month was wasted because of them. but they guess that it's fine, they are in isolation and away from everyone after all

yuu had never been spammed irl

but I guess there's a first for everything. they remember it all the way they ostracized her, almost like they forced her into isolation

but leonas words were stuck in her mind

aren't you angry?

yes I am

you were honest, kind, patient.

yes I was

forget about him

I will

and so she did

she forgave all those who were under the potion, but malleus, oh malleus she could never forgive. even in her dying breath

he betrayed her, why should she forgive him?

she won't

a lazy lion smirks knowing this

I am brewing sum mf angst in my wattpad my works thing. I am in a angsty roll goddamn who hurt me. I'm so tired from school and like there's no cute guys there, and literally no one caught my eye guy or girl

ooh also I forgot to mention this is based on the movie school for good and evil(is that the title i forgor) in netflix

[acerathia]

pink camellias || Chapter 3: valerian

Chapter Summary:

valerian: readiness

Wordcount: 2.6k

Read on AO3 || Masterlist

Pairing:

Bakugou Katsuki / Reader

Tags/CW:

royalty au, inspired by Mulan, war and its consequences, violence, childhood friends to strangers to companions to lovers (i am sorry), Angst, Acts of Service, Character Death (Major, and Minor), swordfights, misogyny, f!reader, kidnapping, implied torture, let me know if I missed anything lol

Note:

this is unedited, so sorry for any mistakes oops

As usual, because you had to drill yourself for years, you woke up early with the sun. To your resignation you accepted missing the sunrise, as it would be too late in the current season to do so, while maintaining a proper sleep schedule. The first months had hit you deep with your loss of sleep and you whined and babbled complaints. But it was worth it in the end, as you seemed to gain more time to properly stretch in the morning and to take a light jog, until breakfast was served.

So you stretched and went for a jog as usual, only to notice the lack of space, due to the buildings sitting cramped beside each other. But as you walked farther into these grounds, you discovered the training space, which would be sufficient for a run. At least if you just lapsed around it. There wasn’t anything better than this place, so you just took what you got.

After running you went through some cooldown stretches, enjoying the current silence, because it seemed like nobody was awake yet. You were curious as to why. Were they being lenient on the newcomers, perhaps? In any case, it wasn’t your responsibility. You just left the ground and went back to your barrack for a quick wash up, before you headed towards the dining hall. Prior to your run you had some time to look around and build a simple layout on the inside of your head.

Upon finally entering the dining hall, you felt several looks land on you, but you elected to ignore them, unless there was a good reason not to. With no reaction you stood up in line to get your breakfast, whatever they currently served. Still, you thanked the server with a slight smile, even if you got no reaction.

With your tray you found a quiet place to sit and to eat. You shoveled the food into your mouth while staring out of the window, until a loud figure entered this space. You said loud, because his steps seemed to rumble through the ground and his aura bordered on menacing.

“Listen up, twerps, you have ten minutes to finish, before we meet at the training grounds. Don’t be fucking late, or you will run laps, or whatever.”, he barked, while looking around, seemingly drilling his stare into everyone separately.

The moment his eyes landed on you, you noticed slightly how his jaw tensed, and you were inclined to continue and hold his gaze until he broke eye contact, but you would rather avoid any confrontation. Especially with someone with a higher standing than you. Because you were very well aware of your current status as an expendable soldier. To them you still didn’t have any worth, not until you prove yourself. And you would. But not now. So you broke the contact with a nod, before turning to finish the rest of your food.

The blond left immediately with his loud steps, even if strangely he didn’t seem a clunky person. After some seconds of waiting to make sure he was truly gone, the people started talking again, mainly discussing the behavior and aura of their new boss.

You tried to tune it out, but because you were walking between tables to return your plate, you heard someone talking about some kind of manliness. You furrowed your brows, that was a weird way for someone to express themselves, but considering the company you would be having for the next while, you didn’t mind. It almost seemed exciting for you to learn how other people talked to each other, besides the painstakingly high language in court.

With long strides you arrived at the training grounds and without any prompts started to warm yourself up, doing simple stretches. While doing so, you felt the stare of the blond from earlier on you, both you decided to think nothing of it.

Slowly, everyone else arrived with some chatter, before a sharp whistle interrupted everyone.

“In a row, now!”, the captain barked at everyone with his rough voice.

Again, he stared everyone done before speaking: “Welcome. I’m the captain of this infantry. I don’t care what your name is. You all are here, if you’re lucky, to fight in the war, either as a good asset, or just as cannon fodder. Whatever you want does not matter, we’re not here to play games. Now, everyone runs five laps around the training ground to warm up.”

He didn’t even allow anyone to even react to his words, but started threatening the stragglers outright, swinging his sword just in front of their noses. You would rather avoid the blade of his sword, thank you very much, so even if his brashness shocked you, you forced your legs to carry you over the sidelines of the field.

Maybe you should refrain from your daily jog, if the program contained running anyway? You shook your head, no, it would be better to gain some kind of advantage, especially considering how these men most likely had more strength in them.

Before you knew it, you already absolved the five laps, with a slight lead and barely out of breath. Well, there it was. Your year-long training was actually paying off. Huh. Still, you didn’t stop completely, lest you experience a circulatory collapse, walking a bit around, until everyone else joined.

To your disgruntlement the run was already your peak. With everything else they looked at, you barely stayed in the average. You grew more annoyed with every exercise. You had a pretty strong musculature and good coordination, all due to your rigorous training, or you couldn’t even lift a sword properly. But these buffoons easily outplayed you, only because they could. Only because they had that innate advantage. And you wished you could curse all of them out. But you didn’t, couldn’t, shouldn’t.

But, oh, you were close to punching someone in the throat. Especially after the captain told them that no, they would not use the swords today. The only sign for your disdain was a small scowl, barely noticeable unless you looked for it. And unless you fought a social fight in the noble court, nobody would.

After they have been released, you returned to your room to wash up and change into some cleaner clothes, before making your way to dinner.

Repeating the same movements of earlier this morning you sat down with your food in front of you. And you were already half through your plate, the moment someone stopped in front of the table. You suppressed a groan, but didn’t look up, waiting for that person to speak up.

Suddenly a muddy shoe landed beside your plate, shaking the whole table, forcing you to look up with a frown. Your eyes immediately locked with the burning red gaze. The captain looked pissed, if his tense jaw was any indication.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing here? Is this just a game to you?”, he asked with a growl, his rage barely contained under his skin.

“Hm, good evening to you too, captain. I would be glad, if you could remove your shoe from my food…”, you answered, fully aware that ignoring his question may enrage him further, so you had to add. “And obviously I am here to participate in fighting, why else would I even be here?”

He didn’t seem to like your answer, pushing the table and shaking you in the process. You couldn’t suppress the disgusted scowl as some of the mud from his shoe actually jumped into your food. Gross.

“I really hope you don’t expect anyone to treat you like a noble, princess.”, he growled, staring you down before turning around and leaving the hall altogether. Huh, that was weird.

With a sigh you stood up, taking your plate to bring it back. A shame the food had been spoiled like that, but you could manage without food till breakfast tomorrow. You just wondered why the captain seemed so angry. As far as you were aware, you didn’t do anything that could lead to the conclusion of not taking anything seriously. Usually you would just shrug it off, but he was the captain of this troop, ignoring any kind of authority couldn’t end well, so it seemed like you had to endure whatever weird feelings he experienced. You wished you could stab him.

Whatever, you didn’t come to this place to make friends, as much as you secretly wanted to. You came to this place to live some proper adventure, and of course to protect your father from whatever might be happening in this war. Maybe there was a chance of something special happening, like in all those books you had read. Maybe magic? No, there was no way magic actually existed, that would be stupid. But an adventure was an adventure and no matter how scant the magic might be, your experience here might just be enough. You just hoped it started soon, or else you would start to get bored again.

After getting rid of the soiled food, you didn’t return to your room. Instead you made your way to the training grounds, looking for a place to sit. Making yourself comfortable on a tree stump, you took your whetstones out of your pocket. Once your sword had a stable position on your thigh you started grinding and sharpening it.

Tschik. Tschik.

The movements and sound always had a calming effect on your mind, and even if you weren’t agitated at the moment, it gave you a sense of home, of relaxation. And as much as you were filled with excitement over your current situation and all the possibilities, your heart was starting to yearn for your home. To simply break your fast with your father and to compete with the knights of the household. Getting ripped out of your daily routine hurt more than you had anticipated. Still, you couldn’t find the heart to regret any of your decisions.

~~~

Once again you repeated your morning routine in this faraway place, before awaiting the next orders of the captain. Usually you would call this training, but he seemed to enjoy seeing everyone in pain due to the muscle aches they suffered, if his grin was any indication. It made the urge to hit him grow. But you refrained from doing so, and you were quite proud of your restraints, you almost patted yourself on the shoulder.

You still slipped and let your grin show once he announced a fight with swords. Well, with wooden swords, but swords nonetheless. With eager hands you grabbed the next best swords and twirled it a couple of times in your hand, getting a feel for its balance and composition. It seemed like pretty good quality for a training sword, the hilt balancing on your fingers like a proper sword was supposed to. The feel of wood on your fingers making you reminisce about the beginning of your dreams, about the mudden yard with the once forgotten boys. With a simple throw you let it land into your palm again, waiting for whatever was about to be coming next.

After everyone settled with their wooden swords, the captain went around and let everyone draw straws to determine who was going to fight who. And if you didn’t know it better, you would think he was avoiding you, the way he seemed to walk up to everyone first.

By the time he finally arrived you had gritted your teeth, they felt like they moved out of their place. Still, you took that last, measly straw and despite your upbringing, you didn’t thank him. Rather you turned around and went looking for your first opponent.

Another blond. There seemed to be a pattern and you disliked it greatly. Despite his sure grin, this one didn’t do anything to make you hate him yet, so you just waited for the other shoe to drop. So you just leaned on the fence to watch the first match.

All these matches were probably to assess the skills of everyone here. And through every match you had to admit, no one lacked any skill or talent. Rather everything was raw and could need some sharpening, but you guessed they would get that from the future training.

Almost as expected, your match was the last one. Almost like the captain wanted to have some fun for everyone to relax, just that possibility made you grind your teeth again.

With light steps you stepped into the makeshift fighting arena, standing with proper footing in front of the grinning blond. He seemed so confident in his alleged win. Saying to his friends, he had this in his pocket.

And how much you loved to destroy some man's ego.

He barely waited for the sign before dashing in, his form barely there, his talent keeping him at the seams. You gave him a simple smile before just stepping out of his reach, letting him stumble and miss you. And how easy it would be to just hit him on the back of his head and finish it, but you had to deliver a proper performance, didn't you?

So you allowed him to recover. This time around he seemed a bit more cautious, watching every move of yours carefully. At least someone was capable of learning, almost a surprise, if you were honest.

You didn’t have a reason to wait for him to strike first, so you moved. Your sword aiming for his knees, letting those buckle slightly under him, and before he could react properly to any movement you made, you had stepped behind him, pressing the wooden blade against his Adam's apple, feeling him swallow.

“Tschik. Dead.”, you announced his loss to him, removing the sword after making sure he understood that.

You didn’t even break into a sweat. The only person, who could possibly hold a blade to you, was effectively the captain, as much as you hated to admit it. Maybe the others could improve, but that depended on their psyche and determination.

You turned to your audience, smiling and curtsying. “Thank you for watching.”

You swung the sword to put it onto your shoulder, before leaving for dinner, even if the captain didn’t release you yet. But after that set-up, you could at the moment care less about his opinion of you. Fuck courtesy, his authority too. And you would be keeping the sword too, let's see how he can stop you from that.

Maybe that was why you expected him to turn up at your table again. But it wasn’t the captain, it was the blond from earlier.

“Hello, my name’s Denki Kaminari, nice to meet you! Do tell, where did you learn to handle the sword like that?”, he immediately got into the deep questions, startling you a bit. You weren’t used to such forwardness, too used to useless small talk. But you didn’t mind, you discovered.

You introduced yourself too, leaving any pleasantries aside. After that you explained how you were trained to be a swordmaster, achieving some kind of mastery in that skill. After that the conversation steered in any possible direction and you couldn’t help yourself but dive with the same enthusiasm into the talk as he did. Talking like that with someone felt freeing and actually was more fun than you could have ever anticipated.

Huh, you actually enjoyed his company. And he seemed to do so too, because the very next day, he sat down and began eating with you. With his jokes, the days of monotone training didn’t seem as bad as they could be.

[ananxiousgenz]

SONG FOR A CAGED LOVEBIRD: PART 11

part 11 whoopie!!! apologies that this didn't get posted yesterday, i had some schoolwork to catch up on and i also had to do some filming for a friend's music video class project :)

kisses to all the lovely people who read this regularly i love you all <3

@smidgen-of-hotboy @ceaseless-watchers-special-girl @urjover @one-joe-spoopy @waters-and-the-wilde @demonic-panini @the-private-eye

He went because he thought it was a job, and easy one at that. He always went for the jobs. Always hungry for what he could never quite get his fingers on.

He never expected to get caught.

In some respects, Peter Nureyev knew he was a songbird in a cage. A pretty little thing made to sing for its supper, the strings getting pulled by someone higher up the food chain than he'd ever go. Ben and the others jokingly referred to him as much. They didn’t know just how true it was. But in most cases, he was just trying to get through another day. Another hour. Another minute.

It was so damn hot down here. And he wasn't even near the furnaces.

He wiped the sweat from his brow, stopped to catch his breath, and wondered for a while if he'd ever get free of this little cage he had built for himself. How long had he been down here now? It felt like years, but he knew deep down Juno wouldn't have left him down here that long. He was a stubborn ass who wouldn't take no for an answer, so Nureyev doubted it would be long until he showed up, probably banging on the gates to hell like a tax collector at a house that was a day late in payment. Why was he like that? He never gave up, even when circumstances were at their worst, even when the world was against him-

And then he was thinking about Juno again, sweet, honest, stubborn, lovely Juno, with a wide brown eye and a voice like sweet summer rain and cherry blossoms and the promise of change. I know how to bring spring back, he'd said. He was going to sing a song and the world would shift back into place. It seemed so simple. So easy.

That first time Nureyev heard him sing, still in a barkeep's apron with a red bandanna knotted around his neck, he found, to his surprise, that he believed him.

Juno's voice had soared through the air and refracted, echoing back in impossible harmonies and for a moment, a single solitary moment, sun spilled in through the window despite the rain and the whole room smelled of hyacinths and roses. When he finished, he held in his hand a single dahlia, its petals pristine and still faintly touched with dew.

Nureyev didn't know then what that feeling he got when he saw that stupid flower was, but he knows now.

It was hope.

For the first time in as long as he could remember, he had hope.

Not any more, of course. That had faded long ago. There was no room for hope down here in Hadestown. 

He picked up his pickaxe and got back to work.

Breathe. Strike. Lift. Breathe. Strike. Lift.

He wanted to leave, of course he did. But Hadestown had a way of stealing your mind as well as your hope, the work slowly taking hold of you, body and soul. He didn’t want to admit it, but just like the rest of them, he couldn’t quite remember where home was. Even his name was beginning to feel like a distant dream.

He supposed he was at least lucky to have made some friends down here. He couldn’t tell them his real name, and didn’t want to in case the bosses were out looking for him, so they all had their own little names for him. Ben, the one who had initially found him, called him Glass, after his broken glasses. Another called him Ransom. Another called him Rose. He answered to each name in turn. 

Breathe. Strike. Lift. Breathe. Strike. Lift.

They were an interesting little crew, he had to admit. The woman with spiky, neon green hair and lip in a nearly permanent snarl, Vespa, got suspicious when he wasn’t talking much, and had muttered, rather sarcastically, about what a little songbird the newcomer was. The one with long, white dreads and burn scars on their hands, M’tendere, rolled their eyes and told Nureyev to pay her no mind, and that she was really quite sweet once you got to know her, but Nureyev decided quite firmly that he had no intention of doing so. Ben had been the life of the party, producing flowers and bottles of wine out of thin air like an old-fashioned magician. It had been a blast until the bosses had taken notice and forced them all back to work.

Breathe. Strike. Lift. Breathe. Strike. Lift.

Ben had such a warmth to him. People always seemed to smile and laugh more around him. Working near him on the wall made the load feel a little lighter. Even just standing in his presence for a while felt like standing in the shine of the summer sun with lilac on the breeze. It was no wonder that Juno never really got over his loss. 

He had wanted to know all about what was happening on the surface. So, later that night Nureyev told him as best he could, switching between writing things down on the small scraps of paper they scrounged up and the sign language he could remember from his days of thieving. M’tendere translated, as they often worked in the noisier parts of town and had to sign to communicate.

He told them about the bar. About Buddy, Juno, Jet, and Rita, and watched one by one as their faces lit up in recognition and delight. He told them all about the eternal winter. About the dying crops and people. About how the world had gone sour and was getting worse by the minute. 

Breathe. Strike. Lift. Breathe. Strike. Lift.

He told them about Juno’s song, and the hopes they had. About how it helped ease the winter a little, but not nearly enough. About the bad deal he made to protect himself and his husband, and at the mention of the word “husband”, Ben practically sprang through the roof of the shitty building they were all holed up in.

“HUSBAND??? YOU MEAN YOU MARRIED MY BROTHER, GLASS??? YOU LIKED LADY RAINCLOUD ENOUGH TO MARRY HIM??? HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME???”

Vespa had to tackle him back down to the ground to avoid drawing unnecessary attention from the bosses. It took M’tendere a few minutes of howling laughter to compose themselves before they could continue, and even now, it still drew a silent chuckle from Nureyev. 

Breathe. Strike. Lift. Breathe. Strike. Lift.

Ben, face slightly pale, told his own story, the little that he could remember. He’d been brought here by his mother when he was a teen, and exchanged as a part of some kind of deal with Slip. He knew he had some kind of power over plants and wine, but didn’t know the full extent of it. 

“I’ve got this funny feeling that I have something to do with the spring being gone,” he admitted, chewing on his lip as he stared off into the distance.

“Don’t give yourself too much credit, there, Ben,” Vespa said gruffly, gently slapping a hand onto his shoulder. “I’m sure it’s not your fault.”

Peter vaguely remembered that story Buddy had talked about, gods dying and reincarnating in different forms, and wondered briefly if Ben was a new version of Persephone, but that’s not exactly a topic of conversation one brings up when talking with unfamiliar people.

Breathe. Strike. Lift. Breathe. Strike. Lift. 

His breathing was harder now, the sweat pouring down his temples and neck. He had to keep thinking. Keep remembering. It was so easy to lose yourself to the rhythm of the hammer strikes and the work songs that hummed out a steady beat all across the town.

He’d already seen the older workers, the ones who had been there for who knows how long. Most of them had gone blind or deaf or come down with black lung from the mines. Their hands shook and their backs remained permanently bent to their work. Never looking up. Never looking others in the eye.

He couldn’t stand to live that way, even if he wasn’t alive.

Breathe. Strike. Lift. 

He thought of… what was his name?

Breathe. Strike. Lift.

His memory was fading fast.

Breathe. Strike. Lift. 

Couldn’t recall his name. Didn’t know where he came from, either.

Breathe. Strike. Lift.

All that existed was the pickaxe and the dirt.

Breathe. Strike. Lift. 

And so Peter Nureyev became just another worker in the crowd of Hadestown.

Breathe. Strike. Lift. Breathe. Strike. Lift.

[countlessrealities]

Plotted starter for @ofmoraliity ~ Alastor & Vox [ ft: Velvette & Rosie ]

Alastor idly ran a clawed finger along the thin cane of his microphone, eyes fixed on Carmilla and wide grin firmly in place, making it impossible to tell what might be going on in his mind. It had been a long time since he had attended one of those meetings. Ten years? More? In any case, it had been longer than he cared to remember.

The truth was that, even before his, ah, "sabbatical", he used to attend them only sporadically. While he understood the strategic value of such events, he had always found most of them quite pointless. It was all about settling disputes over territories and all the sort of politics no one cared about. Fact that was proven mere hours after said meeting had ended, when one of the Overlords crossed the lines they had voted to establish, as if the discussion had never happened.

In spite of all that, he was ready to admit that things seemed to have changed since the last time he had been in town. With Carmilla Carmine holding the reins, the discussion was handled by someone who not only had some proper common sense, but who also never beat around the bush and wasted everyone's time.

Also, unlike the previous times, he had an actual stake to defend, since he was sponsoring Charlie's hotel and said little endeavour was intimately connect with the whole Extermination talk. So, perhaps, that meeting would have turned out to be productive, to an extent. A little disappointing, since no one seemed to care about his prolonged absence, but not a total waste of his time.

Or, at least, he had believed so until the door had been shoved open, cutting Carmilla's off mid-sentence, and Velvette and Vox had stepped in the conference room. "Fashionably late", someone would have called them, but in Alastor's eyes, it was merely rude cheekiness.

The Radio Demon's expression remained unchanged, even if that took an extra effort when Velvette hopped in the spot at the other head of the table, leaving her associate the only still available seat. Namely, the one next to Alastor himself.

Oh deer.

He could have almost sworn that Velvette's eyes had locked on him for the briefest moment, before she had directed her attention back to her phone. Paranoia wasn't something he often indulged into, since he found it extremely inconvenient and annoying, but he couldn't help wondering if her choice of seat had a second aim.

"Before you ask, it's just me and Voxxy," the fashionista spoke up, before anyone could address the newcomers. "Val has better shit to do than listening to an old windbag like you. I was planning on coming on my own to represent, but someone insisted on tagging along."

Only then her gaze left the screen once more, this time landing on Vox, her painted lips curling in a subtle grin that was half way between knowing and mocking.

"Isn't that right, my darling?~"

[victorluvsalice]

Merry Christmas Newt!

@dont-offend-the-bees Sooo, you had no specific prompts for me, which opened the floor for me to write something -- weird. Something that combined a couple of things I know you're interested in, because I've seen them on your tumblr. Something that, specifically, crossed over your new obsession with the Saw movies...with a certain British gameshow hosted by Greg Davies that I myself rather like. I actually came up with this idea a little while back and meant to message you about it, but forgot -- and I'm kind of glad I did, because that allowed me to write this ridiculous thing as a surprise. XD Hope you find it funny!

Tasksaw

“Well – we’re in a bit of a pickle, aren’t we?”

“I’d say it’s more than just a pickle,” Josh snapped back, tugging on the chain attaching his leg to the wall to test its strength. Depressingly, it seemed to be pretty damn well bolted in there. “Or do you get drugged and wake up in moldy old bathrooms with your leg manacled to the nearest wall often?”

“I can’t say I have,” the other fellow – who’d introduced himself as James – admitted, giving his leg a cursory kick. The chain attached to it rattled, snaking across the filthy floor. “Though I have been in my fair share of shitty bathrooms before.”

Josh squinted at him. “Was that an intentional pun, or. . . ?”

James just gave him a smirk – which was quickly replaced by a frown as he looked around the room again. “It is a very odd place, though. You have any idea why we’re here?”

“Not a bloody clue, mate,” Josh said, letting his chain slip from his hands. “I mean, obviously we pissed off somebody, but I don’t know who or why.”

“Yeah, me either. The guys in Pindrop weren’t that upset about us breaking up,” James muttered, scratching his head. “Which was actually a bit insulting, if you think about it – oh! Hang on!” He snapped his fingers, pointing frantically at Josh. “We need to check that our kidneys haven’t been stolen!”

“Our – our kidneys?” Josh repeated, baffled.

“Yeah! That’s the main reason people get kidnapped, isn’t it?” James said, rolling up the side of his shirt to stare at his abdomen. “To get their organs harvested? And I rather appreciate having my kidneys inside my body!”

“You’ve been reading too many conspiracy theory sites,” Josh said – though he did slip a hand under his shirt, just to feel for any new scars. “Besides, I think we should have woken up in a bathtub full of ice if that was the case.”

“Nobody said our kidnappers had to be good at harvesting organs.”

“Excuse me!”

Both men looked up as the door on the far wall, just out of reach of their chains, opened, admitting a rather awkward-looking man with a scruffy beard and gapped teeth, dressed in a smart black suit and carrying an iPad. “Hello,” he greeted them, with a smile that didn’t seem entirely natural. “Would you like to play a game?”

Josh stared for a moment, trying and failing to come up with an appropriate way to respond to this. “Um. . .”

“What game?” James said, rolling his shirt back down and giving the newcomer a suspicious look. “Who are you?”

“Right, right, let me just. . .”

The man did something on his iPad, then held it up, displaying an image of a rather portly and extremely tall late-middle-aged man in glasses, sat upon an ornate golden throne. “GREETINGS, PEONS!” a powerful voice rang out from the tinny speakers. “Allow me to introduce myself – I am THE TASKMASTER! Your one true love, your reason for getting up in the morning, your NEW GOD AND MASTER! Over the next few days, I shall set you a series of tasks, overseen by my admin and general puppet-man Little Alex Horne! I shall score these tasks according to my whims, and at the end of our time together, whoever scores the most points wins the most valuable prize of all – THEIR LIFE! The loser will be killed in an appropriately ironic fashion. So play well, and amuse me. Puppet-man, I leave things in your hands. DON’T SCREW THIS UP!”

The recording ended in a burst of simulated static. The man – Alex – immediately pulled a piece of paper, folded and sealed with a red wax bearing a “TM” logo, out of his jacket and delivered it to Josh. “If you could just read that aloud, please?”

Completely and utterly baffled, Josh broke the seal and unfolded the paper. “‘Clean your half of this bathroom,” he read out. “‘Cleanest bathroom half wins. You have one hour. Your time starts now.’” He blinked, then looked up at Alex. “Clean – what? How?”

“All the information’s on the task,” Alex replied calmly, starting up a timer on his iPad.

Josh facepalmed into the paper. “Seriously? You’re going to be like this?”

“Well well well – looks like we’re going head to head on this one, Josh!” James said, with perhaps more enthusiasm than the situation warranted. “And I plan to win – puppet-man! Get me a cabbage and a red dress.”

[meanscarletdeceiver]

Thank you for your amazing answer. I would love to pick your brain on one other thing. My friend says the Strike Trio(TM) are Gordon's best friends. I think Gordon and James' friendship is sort of shallow so I say All three engines are now great friends(TM) are Gordon's best friends. Thoughts? 

¿Por que no los dos?

Ultimately I think you guys have to define what "best friend" means here.

I do think you raise an interesting point about Gordon and James but there are still... a lot of caveats to consider.

(The tl;dr is gonna be point 6 out of 7 under the readmore.)

1. I would emphasize that, overall, Gordon's most important circle is the other five original engines. In the RWS timeline, Thomas, Edward, Henry, Gordon, James, and Percy went through the Depression together. They went through World War II together. They went through Henry's wreck and rebuild together. They saw the beginning of the RWS books' publication together. They faced the huge unknown of nationalisation together. The only other engine acquired by FC1 was Toby and even Toby arrived late in his tenure, after all those formative experiences. I suspect there are others of the Nameless Eighty who were actually there pre-Toby but it's probably no coincidence that we don't know them—I'm sure they haven't broached Gordon's circle of trust.

It's not that I think Gordon is on the whole ill-disposed to newcomers from Toby on. (That's James's job!) Like I'm sure he counts the other characters we know of as friends too but I doubt he ever bonded with any of the newcomers on the same level. (BoCo is a bit of an exception but there is also some ambiguity there as to how much BoCo is humouring him. I hope it's more than that because Gordon really puts himself out there in that relationship in a way that always amazes me but it's hard to be certain from the text that BoCo is doing more than just being polite.) Almost all the other original six are seen to really be able to integrate comfortably with new characters. But I'm not surprised that Gordon struggles because he has that aloof quality. It's going to be hard going for him to emotionally "overlook" a missing twenty years or more of developing trust...

So I think it's better to think of Gordon's relationship in terms of tiers. The original group is all of a tier, and we are in danger of splitting hairs if we try to rank his relationships within that tier. I'd say these relationships are different but they all very important to him.

2. That said, Gordon's "best friend" is pretty obviously Henry. Like, we all seem to agree on this, yes? Beyond that, you guys seem to be trying to rank James and Edward... And again, I fear it's too easy to start getting into splitting hairs. Like to me ranking all your friends is a bit middle school, you know? There are friends that give me different things, that bring out different parts of me, while not necessarily being better or worse than other friends...

That came out more accusatory than I meant, heh. I just like emphasizing this part. Gordon and Henry's friendship is so THERE and so important. Moments like "Henry's not going" and "That's settled, then" and "Tugboat Annie!" are just. I can't. Literally one of the best and most consistent things about the series. ♥

3. On your side, there is something particularly important about the ATEAGF™ (lol) group. It's just a vibe that is obviously felt pretty widely. I mean the original line came from the first RWS book, with all its Pilot Episode Weirdness, and it would have been easy for Awdry to memoryhole it as he introduced, well, James—but he very much didn't. In Henry's and Edward's later books, there is a story in each dedicated to revisiting the Three Railway Engines dynamic over the years asdfk;ladsf; (Arguably Gordon's book at least flirts with it too, though in that case James is also always in the mix—but we'll tackle James in a moment.) In these showcase stories, there is conflict but they're also still undeniably tight. In the Christopher Awdry books he doesn't focus on this relationship but he does throw in one line showing Gordon speaking of Edward warmly, deliberately assuring us that it lives on. This is also why Gordon's panic at Edward and Henry's departure in "Forever and Ever" will always be Andrew Brenner's most iconic moment (even if it's also his most controversial, lol). Like, we the fandom viewers may not have been on board with the concept, but despite our resistance we felt it. It's not like other TVS what-the-hell moments where you can ignore it—Gordon's characterization there DOES resonate.

As I've discussed before—way back when—he can be really brutal at times to Henry and Edward even after he's supposedly their long-time friend and I diagnose this as Gordon just... letting himself be messier with them, essentially? His crushing commentaries at the beginning of "Gordon's Whistle" and "Edward's Exploit" are totally inappropriate. But I don't think he's conscious of any malice in either case, I think he's scared because he's thinking of his friends' mortality and he doesn't know how to handle it, but. BUT. For whatever reason, in these cases he doesn't choose to put on his usual mask of the gallant hero dismissing danger. Instead he's more... honest, I think, than he usually is. (And frankly, when he is being honest I think we can see why he normally keeps all his shit buried because he clearly does not know how to deal with these emotions.)

Anyway I think the significance for all of this is that Gordon (the Loftiest Creation in All Existence, Doncha Know) has, in his heart if not always in his head, bestowed upon Henry and Edward a sort of honorary equality. Like, he relates to Thomas, Percy, and even James in the role of a benevolent patron (whose long-suffering benevolence is sometimes justly tired!) For Whatever Reasons, Gordon seems to really see Edward and Henry as friends in the sense of the engines that he is the most willing to be vulnerable with. And even that degree of vulnerability is... not a lot. But it's something.

I say for "whatever" reasons as I'm not convinced that just pointing to the events of The Three Railway Engines explains it. Then again, perhaps it does. Perhaps it all comes down to Henry and Edward, elated from their success, were very nice about it when they came back to take Gordon home and it was just the first time in Gordon's ultra-competitive life that he was down and another engine didn't kick him while he was there. I mean, we have a sense of what the other Sodor engines were like and honestly it could well be that the Doncaster Prototype Circuit (Gordon would not have been the only one) was pretty cut-throat. So yeah, maybe that was enough. But then again, maybe there's more to it—not least of which, I don't think it hurt that Henry and Edward were not competition for him at the time the way the other Sodor tender engines were—and, ofc, Gordon melted down a bit once Henry was rebuilt and he was, and come to think of it Duck did cite jealousy of Edward as a reason for everyone acting like asshats, and hmmmm... yeah.

Okay, so in short: Perhaps Gordon let his guard down, way back when, partly because Edward and Henry didn't have a go at him after his burst safety valve and were just generally pretty decent, and also they were safe for him to relax around because it's not like they were going to challenge his primacy.

Not the way that, in a couple short years, James would.

4. Which brings us to James, and therefore to Strike Trio.

But I want to note the foundation of the Gordon and James relationship. Because here there is jealousy from the start:

In 1925, James comes back from overhaul. He's new and improved and in a shiny new color and he immediately starts getting attention from passengers.

We do know that Gordon starts in on James right away—in the RWS version of their double-header, James is already fretting a bit about Gordon, to the point where Edward tells him the story of Gordon getting stuck on the hill as a way to reassure him that Gordon's kinda full of hot air. But Gordon doesn't appear till later in the book, where "[he] and Henry would talk of nothing but bootlaces." But this is brought up in relation to the fact that James is rising again in the Fat Controller's estimation. And Gordon in particular feels the need to talk down to him. "You talk too much, little James... A fine, strong engine like me has something to talk about... [boasting continues]... What are you doing? Odd jobs? Ah well, we all have to begin somewhere, don't we. Run along now..."

It's enough to make anyone want to commit murder tbh. But also, as is pretty typical with Gordon, it's not outright insults. It's patronizing.

And then of course James becomes only the second Sodor engine who can pull the express on his own.

And Gordon immediately—while still being patronizing about it!—switches gears into treating James like a chum.

I am not here accusing Gordon of conscious politicking, especially as I don't even think he's capable of it (certainly he isn't in 1925). I think when he expresses warmth it's because he damn well feels it. He's capable of simply being impressed, and he was. But I said all this to sketch out how, throughout James's book, James is clearly a threat to Gordon.

This makes it hilarious how Gordon never seems to quite get over treating James like a junior friend. "Never mind, little James. I'm going to push behind." Like. In this book, James is clearly in the same category as Thomas (and therefore the same category as Percy!)—"protege" or a "little brother"—a little engine who is needlessly rude and disrespectful but whom Gordon grandly forgives.

The dynamic painted so far—Gordon taking James under his wing; Gordon bestowing on James the honor of being his friend, and furthermore James agreeing to this dynamic—continues in Brenner-penned TVS. The scene in S3 "Trust Thomas" comes especially to mind—Gordon pulls the same evil-mentor shenanigans on James that in RWS he did with Sir Handel: "Now, if you were ill, you couldn't push trucks here, or go to the quarry there, now could you?" And again! James is comfortable with it! "What a good idea, I'll try it..."

I guess this point actually circles back to All Three Engines Are Now Great Friends™. James could challenge Gordon's primacy—I mean he'd probably lose out, but he could—and so it seems to me that Gordon never, ever lets his guard down around James. Puts James in the "little engines I've adopted, to save them from themselves" category, because that allows a version of intimacy... but without Gordon risking the loss of any face. Henry I and Edward could not challenge Gordon's primacy, and therefore I'm inclined to think Gordon did let his guard down around them, in the early years, in a way he never had with anyone else before, and wouldn't again for a very long time—if ever.

Gordon can and will verbally savage Edward and Henry if he starts to feel Feelings when they're at their weak points. But when Thomas and Percy and James are at their weakest points, Gordon would never.

It's just two different kinds of intimacy. But I'm eternally amused at the mental and emotional gymnastics Gordon went through to put James into that second category, back in the '20s.

(And why are we focusing so much on the '20s? Well, because I think Gordon grew from there, but at the same time he's very emotionally conservative so whatever dynamics and habits he fell into in the 1920s are still going to be going pretty strong even now in the 2020s.)

5. All this said, I gotta say, on the other side of things: I would not, I would not, underestimate the strength of the Strike Trio™ friendship.

It's a different kind of friendship but I hesitate to go so far as to say it's "shallow." Actually I think it has a very strong foundation—their friendship was forged in fire (I will never believe for a second Henry and James had even really begun to do more than tolerate each other before) when they took collective action against the Fat Controller, who (as he had already demonstrated before, in pretty dramatic terms) has power of life and death over them.

It doesn't matter here how shallow their reasons for doing so may have been. I'm talking here about the way they came together over their complaints. They shared them, they fed into each other's sense of grievance, the sum of their discontent was much more than the individual annoyance they all brought to the table. They banded together and together they faced the lions.

It's unprecedented in the series, and there's never anything quite like it afterwards. It was gutsy, it was seismic, it was huge. They were also willing physically to turn against Edward, whom they had all been friends with before, and again it's not their shining moment as individuals but let's be for real, dramatically excluding others is a very powerful group-building exercise, it's why so many groups wind up doing something like it, it works so far as establishing a collective identity.

Then they were all basically thrown in locomotive prison for a while, together. It must have sucked but also? It would have also really put the final seal on things. Prior to this James was punished in this way by himself, Henry was tunnelled for a very long time but also by himself, Gordon in particular is noted to have been on hand watching Edward's tenure in the sheds and putting allllllll the distance between that and his own reality. Now the hammer falls again on all three alike—but they face it together.

I'm not the least surprised that they would be firm friends after all this.

There's one other factor that I think gives your friend a very strong case. For all I agree that there's a special, particular bond between 2, 3, and 4... 2 isn't around. Not regularly, at least—not every morning, every afternoon, every evening, all night. 3, 4, and 5 live together. That degree of intimacy, that sheer number of face-time hours—multiplied over what is by now one. hundred. years.—uhhhh yeah. That's going to be hard to overtake. There is going to be a Strike Trio closeness that Gordon will not have with Edward and that's about that.

We have been talking lately about the possibility of the Strike Trio drifting apart over the years, and to what degree they did, and what it signifies... those posts were after your ask, but I'm sure you saw them. And to some degree felt vindicated! But I think it's the same phenomenon of The Three Railway Engines after 1923(?) or whatever—there is a drift, there is distance, the relationship itself is not erased. And if that was true for them, it would be even more true for Strike Trio after decades living and working together so closely.

6. So I guess ultimately I agree with your friend, bwaha.

Mostly, though, I think they're all just really lucky to have so long to grow and develop, and to have newcomers arriving to mix things up and help them grow even more, but most of all to be in a position where no one has to lose touch with the friends who have touched their lives. We should all be so blessed, honestly.

7. (Also, the more I think about it, the more I realize that Wilbert Awdry was kinda full of it. Like, yes, I sympathize with his frustration in that 'Thomas isn't the main character! it's an ENSEMBLE SERIES.' But also, this discussion makes me realize '... yeah, buddy, sure, but it IS amazing how much of your series and its beats we preserve even if we boil down the whole RWS to just 'Gordon the Autistic Aristocrat Engine's Lifelong Adventures in Forming Healthy Relationships with Others and Himself 💙'. )

[danbisroom]

Ep. 11 - Hey You! I Long For You…

My beloved fellow souls,

welcome back to Danbi’s Room, your weekly dose of safe space. Go grab a cup of something warm and get yourself cosy.

I hope you had a nice and fulfilling week where you learnt a lot of interesting stuff, whether is was about the world outside of you or the world within you.

My intention for today’s piece is to dive deep into our souls maintaining a delicate touch. Being soft when approaching situations or feelings doesn’t equal being weak. It’s often the strongest answer. Most of the time, the best way to respond to hardness is not with other hardness, but, in fact, with softness. Softness is capable of taking the hit, of welcoming it and then to gently ponder which action should be taken next: retaining and grooming the newcomer or urge them to leave our secret garden immediately?

I believe that in the majority of cases both will happen consequentially. It is indeed challenging and burdensome to usher in “bad feelings”, but they, more than anything else, are in dire need of being loved unconditionally, until we learn to understand them so that we can finally release them. They must be given their rightfully owned dignity and regard. We must acknowledge their immense generosity: “bad feelings” teach us so much! If only we were willing to attentively listen to them with an open heart! On the contrary, we’re just so quick in shushing them off…Poor things are just looking for a warm shelter! A balmy haven to snug into while gifting us hints, on everything: what do we need to work on? Why do we fear certain things? What does actually matter to us? Do we feel listened? Do we need to move somewhere else? The list is endless. I know, you might be wondering how an enormous pile of uncanny questions could ever be seen as a stack of presents.

It’s because we really need those questions, but we would never dare to ask them without the help of those tumultuous feelings. Avoiding any pinch of discomfort is something deeply ingrained in our human nature. But we can learn how to love even that. To the point where we miss feeling those storms coming at us, as frightening as they can be. We long for that turbulence crushing our synapses.

Feeling everything so very deeply might be a curse, but it’s the breath of life. Sometimes we lose it and we become indescribably numb, almost non-exhistant, dry, like a faded photo. Our soul doesn’t even have seasons anymore. Everything has withered away, even silence. Now, that, I believe, is the most terrifying circumstance a human being can ever find themselves into. Wistfully, this condition is much more widespread than you would think. In my opinion numbness is the most pervasive pandemic of our time. It has various faces: at times we are so overwhelmed we turn blind to our surroundings, or maybe robotically complicit, or we just shut down any type of sensitivity hoping it will be enough for it to stop. But it doesn’t stop. We just become number and number, resorting to meaningless noise.

Is it possible to come out of it?

Is it possible to light up again?

Is it possible to ignite our little flame again?

Is it possible to slowly turn it into a bigger fire that it had previously been?

Yes, it is. It’s possible. As always, my precious fireflies, there is the community, there is the pack, where we can share our lives and talk and walk together and know love. We can share the same breath and love unconditionally, without a reason, swimming in a happy, tepid pond. We can share love and pain.

You never walk alone, yes, we can love.

Today we have two song recommendations since a certain prince worked so much lately: Long For You and Hey You by Hyunjin. Let’s show him a lot of support for these endearing artworks.

I hope you enjoyed this episode and that you have a beautiful week ahead of you!

I’ll see you in the next one, big hug!

With love, yours,

Danbi

[bunbeeplays]

The Lemon Legacy: Generation 1, Chapter 8 - A Notable Moment

Ophelia's a bit nervous for her next shift. She tries to regain passion for her job, maybe a little too hard.

Ophelia: You are confident, you are talented, and you are going to keep working to get the recognition you deserve, EVEN IF IT WOOHOOCKING KILLS YOU.

Right before she gets ready for her shift at the Blue Velvet, her phone starts blowing up with texts and calls from Travis, Summer and Libby! Something about her showing up in some paparazzi photos from yesterday... There's no time to chat, guys, she's going to be late for work!

Work goes great! People are paying attention to her performance! She even hears people whispering about her in between sets.

Townie: That's the girl in those Brytani Cho pictures! In our own little nightclub!

The tips, the applause! Is Ophelia becoming a local celebrity?

With her new-found status as an up-and-comer, the local coffee shop invites Ophelia to perform a couple gigs for their patrons. She can't say no to more tips, plus maybe she'll get a free coffee.

Of course, because celebrities cannot mind their own damn business in this game, who else would show up but Brytani Fucking Cho

Brytani: My maid keeps getting gigs, good for her

Forget Brytani Cho, and apparently Judith Ward who is also in the background somewhere. They pale in comparison to who would happen to walk in next: The larger than life and insanely fabulous Penny Pizzazz. She leaves a hefty tip and requests to talk to Ophelia during her break.

Penny: Hey, hun, thanks for chatting with me.

Ophelia: Are you kidding? I love Penny For Your Thoughts! It's my favorite blog!

Penny: Perfect, so you already know who I am.

Ophelia: Of course! Anyone who's been on the internet ever has heard of Penny Pizzazz!

Penny: I appreciate the flattery, darling, but I actually wanted to talk about you. I'm assuming you saw my blog post where I announced I recently got engaged.

Ophelia: Yeah! Congratulations to you and Miko!

Penny: Thank you. We're beyond excited. We were actually just looking into a place to have the wedding at in Tartosa. The couple that runs the wedding venue we were touring mentioned your name. Hector and Hilary Laurent?

Ophelia: The Laurents? Oh yeah, they've seen me perform at my night job at the Blue Velvet a couple of times. They said they might be interested in having me join their in-house wedding band but they don't have any openings.

Penny: Well they might just have to make one.

Penny: We listened to their current singers. They're perfectly fine. Very professional, polished. Now, clearly, you can tell I like things that stand out a little more. That's where you come in. We told the Laurents we weren't feeling the music and might shop around for other options. That's when they told us about you. You're making quite the name for yourself, aren't you, Miss Notable Newcomer?

Ophelia: Wait, you want ME to sing at your wedding? I'm sorry, I don't understand. Not that I don't appreciate being considered, but couldn't you have like... a real celebrity sing for you?

Penny: You're damn right I could but that's not how Penny Pizzazz rolls. When I was a measly media intern, getting coffee and picking up dry cleaning, I begged for people to see my potential but no one did. There's something about you, I can tell you're a go-getter like me. I'm always looking for something fresh, fun, and baby, that's you.

Ophelia: Wow, I don't know what to say. Thank you would be a good place to start.

Penny: Don't thank me, girl. This isn't a charity case. You've got some raw talent. Who knows? Maybe someday I'll get to tell people the world-famous Ophelia Lemon sang at my wedding. Now, this isn't a done deal. My fiancée's shift ends soon. She wanted to listen to you as well, but trust me, I'm a much harder nut to crack than her. If she agrees, I'll let the Laurents know we want you at our wedding. Trust me, they'll find a way to make it happen.

Penny was right, Miko stopped by not long after Ophelia got back on stage to sing a few more songs. She seems pleased with what she's hearing!

After finishing the next set, the girls sit down to chat.

Miko: It's such a funny story, actually. I was in charge of setting up the yearly fashion show fundraiser for No Sim Left Behind, but my boss has coordinated everything with the celebrity emcee so I had no idea who it was.

Penny: It was me. When I showed up, she thought I was a volunteer and put me to work setting up chairs!

Ophelia: OMW!

Miko: Sorry I'm not chronically online! You didn't even tell me. You just started setting up chairs. My boss had a fit when she saw me giving you orders!

Penny: You looked like you needed help and I had two perfectly good hands! Besides, I liked that you didn't step on eggshells with me. Even after you found out who I was, you were embarrassed, but you didn't treat me like Penny Pizzazz. You treated me like Penny.

Miko: Aww

Penny: What did you think of her, sweetie? You have the final say.

Miko: You have a lovely voice, Ophelia. You're just what we're looking for. We'd love to have you sing at our wedding.

Ophelia: Thank you both so much, this is such an honor! I won't let you down!

[thenightlymirror]

I, of course, knew about Quaker services from Six Feet Under, and I feel a little embarrassed that I work at a cemetery and I’m basically doing a Disney theme park ride for yuppie spiritual tourism a la prestige TV. But also my great grandfather was a Quaker, organized against the KKK in Wisconsin. I knew about Quakers from studying radical Protestantism in America and joining the American Friends Service Committee (mailing list) after 9/11. So, it wasn’t exactly that.

The Quaker service, or friends meeting as it’s called, has always been the ideal church service in my mind. Quakers are radical egalitarians. I said Sir a few times out of habit (I admit it’s a strange habit. I tend to answer objections to Sir with “I meant no respect.”) They sit silently together until moved by the spirit to speak. The point is to listen.

For me, I have lived here on the North Shore for a year, and learned there were Friends meetings almost immediately, but I’ve never attended because I’d rather get breakfast, I slept too late, or there is no God. That’s the case any given Sunday, to be fair.

But today I went. Mostly because I enjoyed officiating the wedding, and I feel like I would get into a fist fight with Unitarians. My friend woke up dead this week, either that or he killed himself, I don’t have the courage to ask. And I spent Friday night in the ER waiting room because I was suddenly woozy after work and almost fell down, had trouble walking. I stayed for two hours until there was almost a revolt from people who had been waiting four. So I just went home.

Today, I woke up early. Ate breakfast. Had a comfortable window to decide. And went.

I was met at the door and asked to wear a mask. I had one. Lois said she had never been to a service either, and it will be a bit strange and no one will talk, but they will talk after. I said I understood, and thanked her.

I was worried about the talking more than anything.

I’ve spent all month watching Hamas videos with admiration and wonder. They do in fact have that dog in them. When I was 17, and probably for the 13 years after that, I was a radical pacifist. In fact, I’d say it’s just how I’ve always been. A sub. A natural masochist who has loved the lion’s den, and yearned for it from a very young age.

I don’t know that I would describe myself as a pacifist anymore, but the rest remains true.

For me, I feel a calling to be the soul of the room I’m in. To be human and kind. To confront inhumanity directly in my daily life. Bloch’s warm stream of Marxism and whatever radical Quakerism I’ve imagined all my life are not too different. Again, in my mind.

I took a seat on the walnut pews arranged in a circle, democratic. There was a stack of pillow cushions that regulars took from. I sat and stared at the wooden ends of the two pews in front of me that formed my semi-circle, at a certain distance like a spark gap that reminded me of the Mercy Seat.

I was consistently meditating on this gap. That Quaker church is not too different from a room full of teenagers on their cellphones, friends on their laptops stoned on the hot couch, who don’t speak to each other for hours at a time. Quakerism is always two things. It’s the radical religion of Protestant and capitalist introversion. It is also love. It is the most profound and honest method to meet God where he is, in silence, but also in people. And that is the catch.

I can only imagine so many Larry David interactions between people who must be regulars here. Surely one service is profound, but what about this woman Carol who wants to take newcomers into the library. See, Badiou insists that every rupture is named. You have an event and then the truth is prescribed. But I don’t know about that. Every truth procedure is subject to entropy, so what I believe was revealed will be revealed in time as never the revelation itself. Duration, the fullness within silence, is the only substance. And that which is done out of love is necessary and right, always a kind of fumbling experiment but for that first grace. But that journey is the point regardless. The silence is only silence otherwise.

So, I am watching the warm sunlight on wood, but I am also among this “sack of potatoes”. These Protestants. God speaks to me frantically, sometimes kindly. “Various eyes,” he says. I think about how God’s body is a bit like mine. Hideous, astronomically huge, mostly war. Be kind to God’s body. This old thing. “This old thing?” With a question mark? This old thing?

An ambulance siren wails outside and we all listen long to its Doppler disappearance. Gaza is out there, and it’s besieged ambulances. Kindness, kindness. The light colder. I say a prayer for each person I am at war with. Kindness.

A young gay man with a considerable five o’clock shadow whips his arms out like he’s trying to break out of a straight jacket. He’s in a very different place than myself and shocks me out of my prayer to the same God, in which I only hear myself. I think about the God of Job, an edgy guy who creates sea monsters and plagues to amuse himself. What if God is a very chill handsome man with a five o’clock shadow, who isn’t thinking of anything in particular? Sometimes he sits and thinks, and sometimes he just sits, while I imagine infinite montages of suffering and light. His body is beautiful, slim, a little hairy.

I try not to sit too stiffly. Thats too pretentious for what this performance is supposed to be. I see a middle aged man who reads a book, cross-legged across from me. Not a care in the world. It’s just Sunday morning to him.

A woman stands. I should say that there is also some kind of Zoom feed witnessing all this silence at the same time. Elderly faces in prayer on a screen in the room. She stands, emotional, her voice quivering. “I want, I feel I have to remember, this saying from George Fox, that we have to walk this world with kindness and joy.”

And then she sits and then we sit for a little while more and break out into waving at each other from our pews. People shake hands. We go through the church introducing ourselves. A black couple who has been to a service before, but not here. A beautiful young woman named Kat. A gay man named Berkeley. Carol, who will be in the library stealing souls like a spider. Various invitations to potluck. Joy and kindness.

When Carol intercepts me at the entrance, I take it as a challenge and accept. When I get to library, Kat is there and when Carol tries to pin her down, she tells her she’s been a Quaker all her life, to say, please fuck off. I take this as a sign, a permission, a forgiveness. I’ll leave too.

[jonmcbrine-author]

The Fandom Game

I’m not that kind of nerd…”

I like to say this when it comes to repairing equipment like computers or knowing how to write code. If it is more of a technical skill or a problem that requires practical knowhow, then, well, I’m not that kind of nerd. If you want useless sci-fi trivia and deep-seated opinions on superhero costumes, then I am the dork you are looking for. When it comes to video games, I am definitely an outlier.

Not possessing any talent for playing games from any generation’s console isn’t the only reason why I am not a gamer. The hardware and downloadable content can get expensive, but the cost is only a partial factor for my gaming negligence. Like so many things in life, it comes down to time and the lack thereof.

Gaming continues to develop its own broad subculture, and like any major form of entertainment, video games are varied among not just genres, but fandoms as well. When I was kid, of course I played. My gaming habits dwindled as I entered my late-twenties and gradually evaporated further as I crossed into my thirties. Now in my forties, playing something as simple as solitaire on my phone doesn’t interest me. I don’t feel superior to gamers, but the fact remains that when I do have recreational time, it is never a choice of mine to fire up the gaming console. The older PlayStation in my home mainly serves as a way to stream series and movies - and that’s the machine gets activated at all.

A lack of spare time plagues many people, and it is true that the older you get, the less interested you are in the hobbies of one’s youth. This is the case for me, but the video game industry is still producing games and content. The video game business takes its wins and losses like any other, but the gaming community remains active and steadfast. They certainly don’t need me, though I like to think I’d be welcome. But would I actually be, though?

It’s very easy to focus on the ugliness of a fandom. Comment sections and forums are rife with negativity, and the nasty gatekeepers seem to be the most prevalent. On any end of the gaming fandom spectrum, there will be bitterness and rage, so it is not difficult to be turned off and ignore the whole thing. Despite this, I have a curiosity about what goes on in the gaming universe despite not playing myself (it’s not too far of a stretch since my appearance is that of a standard nerd). This peripheral interest is nurtured by what my social media feeds think I want to see. Even my digital presence is misconstrued as a gamer.

Dipping your toe into a new fandom can always be daunting, so what is it about gaming that feels so unwelcome? Especially when I have a preexisting fascination? Perhaps feeling like an uninvited outsider isn’t accurate. Numerous gaming communities and channels are fun and operated by friendly folks who encourage noobs to join in. The unappealing element of gaming belongs to anything that makes seem not fun.

I don’t expect to enter any new fandom thinking I am familiar with every nuance that exists within lores as well as the history of the subculture. A casual scroll through X showcases several hot takes by gamers displaying their thoughts on the app formerly known as Twitter. There is an abundance of accounts posting what at least seem to impulsive opinions on a character’s appearance or how they are used in a story. Welcome to the Internet, right? I’m not even going into the whole “toxic” territory. Frankly, it doesn’t matter much which sect of fans it is or where their extreme views come from. Eventually, it all becomes, well, not fun.

A legion of nerds with bad taste isn’t exactly a new phenomenon or enough to dissuade me from simply trying something new. Board games, films, television series, sports, comic books - no fandom is immune to the eye-roll-inducing cringe-base that seem like they are only around to purposely turn off potential newcomers. Again, you’d think it’s day two of my online journey and I’m just now discoveries that meanies log in and tweet out things other than kittens and fluffy pillows. What I’ve deduced after considering so many similarities shared by multiple forms of entertainment is that yes, there will be unpleasant people who “well actually” folks while they themselves need to be well-actually’d - and sure, I will disagree with the majority of my my fellow fans other opinions - but the bottom line is, I only have so much bandwidth.

In my early forties, there isn’t enough motivation to shoehorn yet another obsessive pop culture hobby thing into my already taxed fan-brain.

Play on to those that play. I’m sure the gaming universe will continue just fine without this kind of nerd.

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[cackled0g]

Okay, so this is something I didn't really want to address because I'm past this point in my life, but unfortunately I've been getting some traction on old posts lately.

I no longer wish to associate myself with the tr@nsandrophobia community or any communities similar to it who have a different name (transm1sandry, androm1sia, etc).

My thoughts on the bigotry towards trans men and transmasculine people are many, and too long to post here, but suffice it to say that I do believe trans men are impacted by transphobia and that, in some cases, this transphobia--while it may also be leveraged against other groups--is sometimes of a variety specifically aimed at trans men and transmasculine people. I think that some points brought up by those in the aforementioned groups are good, but I am disturbed by the level of transmisogyny I have seen in these spaces as well. There is no excuse for transmisogyny, and there is no excuse for ignoring it. I deeply apologize for anyone who may have been hurt by anything I posted related to these groups previously, and I apologize again that the only thing I can offer up is a commitment to doing better in the future.

For those within these communities that continue to follow me: look around yourself and ask yourself if you are truly acting in good faith. Ask yourself if you are truly entirely comfortable with the things some of the people around you are saying. Ask yourself if you have sought opinions from people outside of the group. I would also kindly ask that this post is no screenshotted (screenshat?) and shared around. I do not wish to hurt anyone with this, and this post is not an indictment of everyone who follows these groups. I am not seeking to blame the existence of transmisogyny on trans men or transmasculine people, and I am not implying that trans men have "male privilege" in any real sense of the word. This, and I say this with my entire chest, is not about trans men or their very real suffering at the hands of bigots.

If you are a part of these groups, don't hesistate to send an ask or something and talk to me. Feel free to keep it on anon. As long as people are civil, I'll keep anon asks on. At this time, I am deleting some of my old posts about this topic, and I will not be posting more.

As an aside to people who are incredibly anti-these groups, I would like to make a statement. My mind was not changed by anon hate or by fights in comments sections, nor was it changed by being publicly tagged on a large blocklist with other trans men and mascs. My mind was changed by seeing factual evidence and processing in my own time. Consider how the impact of outgroups of angry people sending violent messages to a group of gender minoroties may make them less and not more likely to seek out opposing views. I humbly suggest that you think twice before sending something hateful.

I don't have much more to say. This isn't a discourse blog. I haven't interacted with this community for over a year. I just want newcomers here to know where I stand on this issue, as a few older posts of mine with harmful opinions have seen recent activity. Be kind to each other, and question what you are told by strangers.

Once again, my asks and dms are open. If I have any mutuals or followers left from these days, feel free to talk to me, though I fear I don't have much more interesting things to say.