#so to ensure i still got it at the end of the year id just pretend my rent was late for however many weeks the deposit covered

[hella1975]

the 'i totally wrecked my walls' saga gets funnier bc ive spent the past few days trying to figure out how tf to get out of the inevitable fine and one thing i joked about was that i have a lot of hard hitters on my side if shit really does get nasty. like my flatmate's mum is an actual soliciter, my dad is a finance guy who can write an email so scathing you'll cry, my local friend's family owns half the property in the city and knows all the tricks of the trade when it comes to housing, and then there's just my mum who was like 'oh yeah i regularly used to dodge rent in my twenties. you'll be fine' and somehow she's the one im finding the most reassuring rn

[thekatebridgerton]

Today on stories I'm too sleep deprived to write #XYZ

Sometimes I really think about writing a Polin fanfiction where Penelope marries Lucy's uncle and ends up neglected and abused, but doesn't leave him because of teenage Richard and little Lucy. Until she finds out about the deal to betroth little Lucy to Haselby Junior and how her husband is commiting treason and basically wants to sell his young niece to cover it up. So Penelope finds some will to live after years of just taking the abuse to protect the kids and sells her husband out to the crown, on the condition that the Abernathy title isn't affected.

Cue Lucy's uncle officially dying in a mysterious accident and Penelope moving back to London with little Lucy and young Richard. The Bridgertons and the Featheringtons are happy to have her back but Penelope's marriage has changed her and the first one that notices is Colin.

Penelope doesn't smile anymore, she's busy running the Abernathy estates and putting the fear of God into her teenage nephew because Richard is the darn heir to the Abernathy title and he needs to act like it, David did Richard no good and he really needs a good male influence in his life.

'No Colin not you, the last thing I need is Richard deciding he wants to drop everything and go gallivanting across Europe while his aunt and little sister despair in worry... I meant a male influence like Anthony, or Simon'

Colin starts putting the pieces together about her marriage when he sees that Penelope keeps reassuring Lucy that yes everything in the mansion is all theirs and that nobody can hurt them now. And when she keeps pushing Richard to make friends among the ton so his sister can have a better chance when she's presented.

Basically, id love to see a deconstruction of a situation where Penelope doesn't realize she's turning into her mother. And actually begins to see things from Portia's point of view now that she's officially An unhappy widow who's only joy in life will be to see her wards safely married and enjoying the life she never could.

She's Determined to make up for lost time when it comes to building connections and ensuring Richard and Lucy's future, going as far as policing Lucy's friend circle because ' Lucy is too kind and too naive, any false friend could play her for a fool'

Everyone else thinks Penelope is just being Penelope but Colin can see that she's spiraling under the weight of her worries and the ghost of her former husband, and he wants to help, he keeps showing up to everywhere she goes, trying to bring a smile out of her, encouraging her to think about herself, to dream about love, maybe remarriage, like Francesca, live again with a purpose.

Penelope thinks Colin is cute but annoying and needs to buzz off, she may still think he's handsome and charming but gone are the days she would feel over the moon for sharing a dance with him. The harder he tries to cheer her up, the more upset she gets, who gave Colin the right to see through her? Why is he so fixated on helping her, she's fine, she got rid of David, she's got Lucy and Richard and boatloads of money to do as she pleases! Penelope doesn't need Colin Bridgerton's pity!

Bonus if this is an au in which Colin still remains a bachelor, because he never found the love his parents used to have. And always felt guilty for not saving Penelope from the marriage that ruined her life.

But Colin keeps trying. Almost as if he's in love with her or something, but Penelope no longer believes in love. She's only hopeful for Lucy, because that child deserves true love, Lucy will have everything Penelope never did, Lucy is the future...

Even if Lucy IS developing the same predilection for Eton attending Bridgertons that Penelope did in her youth, Penelope will ignore Gregory's friendly attention to Lucy the same way Portia continues to ignore Colin's attention to her.

This won't backfire, not at all

[sapphia]

i wanna tell the US the thing actually good about NZ's democracy.

because we have a lot of things that suck. we have a single house. we have some of the weakest lobbying laws in the world, and at this very second we have a government selling out our environment and our future to mining and oil and tobacco companies because of it. we have an MMP system that gives too much power to far right parties while somehow limiting the power of the left. we have a central right party that spent two decades sponsoring our further right libertarian party into parliament in an underhanded way that has pushed this country to the right in a divisive manner. we have a total lack of accountability for pre-election promises, and a modern political discourse built on lies and manipulation and neoliberalism.

but the one thing we do have is this guy:

this little orange man rises like a cryptid every three years to incessantly tell the people of aotearoa to vote. you will find him in your mailbox, in your phone, on your tv, at the end of your bed, at your local mall, and if you are not careful, while you are walking home at night when he spots you from his orange van and kidnaps you to enrol you by force.

okay, that last one isn't true. but he's the mascot of our electoral commission and they will do anything to get you to vote. australia have their democracy sausage to bribe people but here, we just make things literally as easy as it possibly can be to participate in democracy. there are sign-up stations in every language in every city and town for months before the election. people go around door-knocking to sign you up. you can sign up on the day and still vote. if you don't have an address or a phone number or ID to use, they'll probably give you one. the philosophy is generally that everyone who is entitled to vote should be fully facilitated to do so.

and then our early voting opens weeks before election day so people can just... vote whenever they want. about half of the country do. for three weeks or so, aotearoa turns into an orange maze of pop up voting booths and pensioners. they're in every mall, every school, every hospital, half our workplaces, they drive around retirement homes and villages, they will assail you as you walk past stores -- literally, during our pandemic elections, i was heading into my local shopping center from my car when some middle-aged lady all but leapt out at me from a hidden alcove to ask me if i'd voted yet. i'd only gone down to buy some groceries, but i came back from the shops having spent approximately 2 minutes from start to end casting my vote for my preferred party. democractic duty done.

it actually makes me sometimes tear up with pride a little to think of the work that goes into encouraging voter participation in this country, and just how important it is that that the work done is seen is bipartisan and a key consideration for a strong democracy. what is most broken about american politics, in my opinion, is your established voter disenfranchisement; the years of blatant racism that has made a sport out of the right preventing your poor and your minorities from voting. nz is perhaps a bit different on this front culturally, as we put (perhaps too much) pride in being the first country to give women the vote, and our early indigenous representation in parliament and later MMP system has gone a long way to ensuring our maori voter enrolments are upkept, which is strategically sort of the same as democrats signing up black voters, we've just been much more successful and long-term about it.

but the outcome, oh the outcome -- not only are our eligible voter percentages so much greater, so our are voter turnouts. 77% voter turnout in the last election. sure, we got from it the worst government since muldoon, but even in our year of democratic apathy and exhaustion, three quarters of our population voted.

if there's any hope for us, it's got to be in that.

[thefirsthogokage]

So, the AMPTP basically said that the studios take too much risk to pay people anything for streaming shows. Here's John Rogers and David Slack responding to that.

(link to top of thread)

[Image ID: A tweet thread from John Rogers on July 23rd, 2023 that reads in its entirety:

Last time I had a failure - which was collateral damage in an argument between the studio and the network - I had to personally fire 200 people, they all were off payroll by that afternoon, and I was also out of a job. The executives all continued to get paid. So fuck off.

Actually, that’s not true. The failure after that one happened as collateral damage in one of the mergers, so it had nothing to do with the quality of the show. And I had to wait, forbidden to work, not earning a dime, as they shopped it for six months.

Also several of my writers were cheated of their expected salaries, some losing up to 75%, for reasons too complicated to explain here. Those executives, both studio and streamer, all kept their jobs. So double fuck off.

Actually no, my last failure was a show where after delivery the network made us wait *seven months … for a PASS*. Seven months where I was in first position, and again, was forbidden from working.

Do that was one pilot fee, cut in half with a partner, for a year and a half’s work counting development. Those executives, both studio and network, kept their jobs.

So *triple* fuck off.

Luckily I had my tiny sliver of back end from TRANSFORMERS - no, wait, no, because according to the Hollywood accounting while that movie grossed something like a billion dollars all in, it unfortunately wound up $36 million in the hole.

So QUADRUPLE fuck off.

If you’re dumb enough to take that AMPTP statement at face value, responsible adults should remove all the scissors from your home. You are the reason hair dryers have the “Do not use while sleeping” warning.

/End ID]

I believe that merger one was Leverage or The Librarians. Both were doing REALLY well before they got cancelled due to network shit, I know that much. So the network/studio one could be either of those as well. Probably Leverage?

(Link to top of thread)

[Image ID: A tweet thread from David Slack posted July 21st, 2023 that reads in its entirety:

The studios claim they shouldn’t have to share revenue for the success of the shows we make succeed because they assume all the risk.

Well.

To paraphrase a famous actor: There’s more than one type of risk, motherfucker.

While the studios and their new hedge fund besties may assume some modest financial risk, any losses just go on a balance sheet next to the C-suite’s golden parachutes.

The workers in this industry, on the other hand, risk a hell of a lot more than that.

Most working actors live with the constant uncertainty of never knowing where their next paycheck will come from or how long it will be between jobs. That’s risk.

If they work a second job, they often risk losing it every time they take time off for auditions or jobs.

Actors also generally have little control over the final product, so *every* role is a risk for them. Sure, it could be the hit that changes everything. But it could also be a flop that hurts their career for years. They become “the guy from that thing” and can’t get more work.

Under our old contract, writers put in untold hours of free work developing and rewriting pitches and scripts for features and TV. Much of this work is on spec. That’s a huge risk writers take on — yet the studios are happy to benefit from the upside without taking on any risk.

Writers, actors, crew, and directors also risk our personal relationships, spending long hours at work, frequently across the country or around the world. Our partners soldier on without us. Our kids miss us and we can only hope they’ll understand.

That’s a huge risk.

Stunt performers literally risk their lives for the shows we make. Productions and crews take every possible precaution to ensure their safety, but accidents still can and do happen.

You gonna try and tell us that’s not risk?

All of us risk our health and safety working insane hours to keep up with the schedules our bosses create. When was the last time David Zaslav or Bob Iger worked a Fraturday? Do they even know what one is?

In production, where 14, 15, and 16 hour days are common, people have died from falling asleep at the wheel driving to and from set.

And the studios have the fucking gall to say they’re taking all the risk?

We risk our finances, our families, our friendships, our futures, and sometimes our lives to make a product for you that you have no idea how to make yourselves.

All you risk is money.

And by the fucking way, we *know* you can afford to give us success-based pay — because you’ve been doing it for 83 YEARS.

Remember 1960? When both the WGA and SAG went on strike and won…

residuals for TV?

Residuals for TV *are* success-based pay. Great movies and TV shows re-ran more often, so the people who created and starred in them got more money as a reward for that success. It’s a great system that incentivized workers to bust their asses to make great shows.

And you know what happened to the entertainment industry in the 8 decades studios have been making these success-based payments?

IT THRIVED.

Studios made billions in revenue selling our product all around the world.

But now, the studios say they can’t afford it. They say it’s not “fair” for actors to ask for success-based pay because they don’t take on any risk.

That’s stupid.

It’s offensive.

And it’s a lie.

It’s shameful that the AMPTP and their studio bosses are trying to deny the workers who make their product a bonus for success that is time-tested and has 83 years of precedent.

And that they’re lying about it?

That’s just… uncivilized. #WGAStrong #SAGAFTRAStrong

/End ID]

The absolute fuckery of this statement that came from the AMPTP is that the studios thought this would gain them sympathy. They were wrong. They genuinely thought this was a good statement from them because they DO think they take all the risk because they can't see people who don't have their wealth as real people. They can't.

Wealth is a disease.

No one should make the kind of money these people make. It makes them so out of touch they think of themselves as gods among ants. They step on those ants? They don't notice. They don't care. They just keep moving forward to gain as much money as possible, even though they have no way to spend it.

Fuck the studios, a new system needs to be built around them so that they'll die.

[duckymcdoorknob]

@mystwrites I TOLD YOU ID MAKE THE FIC TEEHEE!!

INSPIRED BY THIS BEAUTIFUL FREAKING PIECE RIGHT HERE!!!

RARARA MULTIPLE TK SCENES BC YES

Voices Carry

Warning! This is a tickle fic!

Ships: None! Char: Kurama and Hiei with a couple teaspoons of Lee!Yusuke

Warnings: This do have tickles below the cut ngl

Prompt: When the boys get into deep conversation one night, Kurama wants nothing more than for Hiei to shut up before he spills some secrets. Kurama would soon eat his words…

Tags: @giggly-squiggily TEEHEE SURPRISE! THIS IS MY “PAYBACK” FOR THAT LEE HIEI FIC >:))

It was a rare occurrence when the four were together and they actually got to enjoy one another’s company. It seemed that whenever they were in the same room, there was something that was threatening their peace that would happen the next day.

Hiei was sitting on the bed, resting his chin on his arm as he watched the rain fall outside of Yusuke’s bedroom window. Kurama lay with his head in the fire demon’s lap, engrossed in a book. Yusuke was trying to mask his excitement—though failing miserably—as he showed Kuwabara his Lego creations, and the orange-haired boy was carefully holding every set to ensure he wouldn’t break it.

Rain was harshly falling outside, so the other three were not going anywhere for quite some time.

“And this is one that Keiko got for me last year. I still keep asking to pay her back for it, but her stubborn ass won’t let me give her a single yen,” Yusuke explained, holding up a large replica of the Death Star.

The pompadoured male’s eyes lit up as he took in the awesome wonder of the huge project. “How long did that one take, Urameshi?!”

“Oh man, let me try to remember…” the green-haired boy murmured, “a good few months at least.”

“So cool…” Kuwabara breathed.

“You wanna hold it?”

“Can I?!”

“Sure,” Yusuke chimed, carefully placing the orb into his friend’s hands. “Just know that if you drop it, you won’t be walking away unscathed. Got it?”

Kazuma paled. “M-Mhm!”

As the taller male observed the craft, Hiei sighed in contentment. He never thought that he would enjoy the company of the two ruffians; moreover, he didn’t expect to find solace in watching rain fall.

“Say, Hiei,” Yusuke’s curious voice sounded from the other end of the room. “Did’ya ever have a raindrop race? Like you watched two drops trickle down at the same time and raced them?”

The black-haired demon narrowed his eyes in confusion before turning to the curious boy. “That sounds unbearably boring.”

“It’s like watching paint dry,” Kurama quipped, his deft fingers coming up to turn the page.

“Hey!” The spirit detective whined. “Oh like you’re any better. You’re reading Dickens!”

The red-haired male’s eyes flickered away from the copy of Great Expectations to an angry Yusuke. “And how did you know who the author was? My finger was covering his name,” he replied curtly.

Yusuke’s face burned in embarrassment. “W-Well-“

Having safely placed the Death Star on the shelf above him, Kuwabara cooed at his friend. “Ooooo! Urameshi likes reaaaadinnngg!!” he chirped, accentuating his teasing words with repeated pokes to the boy’s sides.

Yusuke squirmed and sputtered as he curled in on himself, falling backwards against the spirit sword user’s torso. “C-Cut that ohohohout!”

Kuwabara trapped Yusuke in his arms, caging him in. The little pokes had turned into rapid vibrations, and soon Kuwabara’s fingers were wiggling into the boy’s sides. “K-Kuwahahahabahaharahaha!”

The orange-haired male flashed him a Cheshire grin, cooing little teases in his ear as he snaked his finger’s under Yusuke’s shirt to spider his fingers along his tummy. The two demons’ attention was grabbed by an adorable squeal of agony.

“Nahaha-nahahahahaohoho! Quhihihihit ihihihit! Stahahahappihihihit!” Yusuke whined as his hips arched off the floor.

“Kuwabara,” Kurama warned. “If he’s asking you to stop, you must be mindful of his requests.”

“Ihihihim okahahahay. Ihihihits juhuhust a- hahahabihihit-HYEAHAHA!” The green-haired boy all but screeched as he felt Kuwabara’s fingers trail down to prod at his hips. “WAITWAITWAIT! OKAHAHAHAY! OKAHAHAHAY! THAHAHATS- THAHAHATS ENOHOHOUGH! KUHUHUWAHAHABAHAHARAHAHA!”

The pompadoured male promptly stopped and smiled, patting Yusuke’s tummy a few times before helping him sit up. “Sorry, Urameshi, couldn’t help it.”

Yusuke panted a bit, his dopey smile still plastered on his face. “Yeah, yeah,” he breathed, “Better watch your back… sleep with an eye open.”

Hiei breathed out a chuckle, a small guffaw leaving him. “Now don’t let Genkai know about this weakness of yours,” he quipped, “You’d never make it through another training.”

The spirit gun user flushed upon thinking of said scenario. By the name of the Spirit World… Genkai would be merciless.

“This gets me thinking… do demons have weaknesses too?” Kuwabara asked, poking Yusuke once more and eliciting a jolt.

“Of course we do. You’ve seen Kurama and I get gravely injured multiple times.” The fire demon replied, a small bout of confusion evident on his features.

“No, no, he’s got a good point,” the green-haired boy interrupted. “He means like- do you have human weaknesses? Like can you see a puppy in danger and stop everything to save it? Do you feel sad at sad movies? Or do you get grossed out when you see a bug?” There was a small moment of hesitation from Yusuke. “Are you ticklish?”

“Well…” Kurama chimed, sitting upright on his ankles, “I do get feelings from my human form. I experience the full spectrum of emotion. I would save that puppy, and sometimes sad movies get me a bit emotional. I don’t very much mind insects, but I’m not a fan of them. I experience laughter and joy as well,” he answered, dodging that last question.

“Oh laughter he does experience indeed,” Hiei interrupted, looking to the boys with an evil smile, “It��s quite easy to incite that experience.”

“Watch your tongue, Hiei,” the redhead growled, “You’re letting too much information go.”

“Oh really? You think I’m revealing too much to our delinquents?” the black haired-demon asked with menace.

“I do. And I think you’re about to let something slip; something with which I would very much not like these hooligans to know.” He rocked forward on his knees, “walking” closer to the fire demon, their faces almost touching, “Lock. Your. Lips,” he demanded.

“Fine,” a Cheshire grin toyed at his lips. “After all, it’s like you’ve always said, Kurama…”

The two delinquents watched Hiei effortlessly push Kurama over, sitting on his waist and holding his wrists above his head with one hand.

“Actions speak louder than words…”

“M-Must we resort to s-s-such childish antics?” there was a new emotion in the fox demon’s voice that neither human had heard before: apprehension. Hiei wiggled his fingers above certain spots, never actually touching down. “These two d-dohohont need to sehehehee what you’re-mmh!- talking abohohohout.”

Kurama sounded like he was fighting off giggling, but his voice was still low and demanding. The usual bass was still present, but the sweet chuckles slipping out gave it a more charming sound.

Hiei remained silent, his fingers finally touching down to wiggle against Kurama’s underarms.

“Agh- Hihihihiehehei-plehehehehease - pffhehehehe- plehehehehease behehe cihihihivil.”

Absolute silence was the fire demon’s reply, causing Kurama’s face to flush a bit in embarassment, his laughter being the only sound in the room.

“S-Say an-ngh-ahahanythihihihing y-you heheheathehen!” the red-haired demon all but begged.

The two human boys watched with fervor, stars in their eyes glistened as they took in the beautiful reality in front of them.

Kurama is ticklish. Kurama is ticklish. Kurama is ticklish.

Kurama is ticklish!

With a bout of urgency, Kuwabara jumped to his feet, rescuing the copy of Great Expectations and dropped a bookmark in it. He sat back down next to Yusuke, holding the book securely.

“Hihihihieheheihihi!” the fox demon whined. “Plehehehehease!”

“Please what? You told me to be quiet, and I’m obeying your command,” the black-haired demon replied. “Don’t blame me; tickling you was too easy of an opportunity to pass up.”

The redhead turned his head to the side, hoping to hide his face. The pink tint on his cheeks was prevalent, further signifying his pure embarrassment. As Hiei moved his hand down to Kurama’s tummy and sides, the fox demon got a bit of a breather. He wasn’t the most ticklish there, but it still got some giggles out of him.

“Oh dear, what a pity that you aren’t ticklish here. It would’ve been quite amusing to see you curl up around my hand,” Hiei teased, letting his fingers rake up and down the other’s middle.

“Jesus…” the green-haired boy murmured in a high-octaved voice. “Being tickled by Hiei is a death sentence.” he felt dizzy even looking at it…

“I heard that, Yusuke,” Hiei reported. “Don’t think you’re off the hook.”

Poor Yusuke’s eyes widened. What did he do?!

The fire demon grew bored, opting to move his hand down and pinch at the fox demon’s hips. Kurama’s eyes bugged out as his breath hitched a bit. He fell into deep belly laughter as Hiei released his arms and dug in with both hands.

“H-Hihihiehehehei yohohOHOHOU bahHAHAHAstahahard!”

No reply once more. What a cruel, cruel man!

Kurama threw his head back against Yusuke’s pillow and squealed, beautiful laughter pouring from his lips. “HihihiehEHEHEhei!”

“What’s wrong?” An innocent inquiry. “Ticklish?” A menacing rhetorical.

“M-Mohohove- HYEAHAHAHA! MohohOHOhove spohOHOHots!”

“Hmph, your human form is such a weakling,” he murmured, causing Kurama’s blush to deepen, “as you wish.”

The fire demon’s hand found their way to the fox demon’s thighs, taking refuge and squeezing there. Kurama shot upwards and tried to push at the hands assaulting his hyper-ticklish thighs. The poor redhead could only fall backwards and squirm, hoping to escape.

“NONONONO! NOHOHOHO! NOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHERE!”

“Oh? Not… here? But I could have sworn that you had said to move spots. It’s not nice to make requests you don’t want fulfilled.”

“Man, Hiei is ruthless,” Kuwabara reported over Kurama’s frantic giggling, placing the book safely on the floor next to him.

“Hmph. Serves Kurama right for always tickling me,” Yusuke pouted through pursed lips.

“YUHUHUHUSUHUHUKEHEHE! KUHUHUWABAHAHAHRAHAHA! HEHEHEHELP MEHEHE!” Kurama all but begged.

The two boys smiled as they stood to their feet and spectated from a higher angle. This side of Kurama was one that only they would be lucky enough to see. His sweater had ridden up a bit, revealing the soft skin of his torso, flushed pink from the previous contact of ticklish fingers. His face was pinker than his shirt, and little tears of mirth dotted the corners of his eyes.

“Aw man, Kurama, you look adorable!” Yusuke chirped. “Of course I’ll help you out.” the spirit gun user chimed as he softly swiped his fingers across the fox demon’s neck.

Well, that did it.

Kurama exploded into cute laughter. Not knowing which person to arch away from, he simply let his head hit the pillow as he boomed with laughter. His chuckles were breathy and desperate, with little hiccups and stutters adorning them.

“YOHOHOHOU TWOHOHOHO AHAHAHRE AWFUHUHUHUL! IHIHIHI- *Hic* IHIHIHI CAHAHAHANT-“

“Guys-“ Kuwabara attempted.

“Awww, poor Kurama,” Yusuke teased in a baby voice, eyes closed in glee.

“Hey, guys!-“

“QUIHIHIHIHIT IHIHIHIT! *snort* IHIHIHITS TOHOHOHOO MUHUHUHUCH!”

“Perhaps you should have thought about that before you spoke to me with such poison on your tongue,” Hiei replied, focusing on squeezing with dexterity.

“CMOHOHOHOHON!! ST-STOHOHOHOP ALREHEHEHEADY!”

“HIEI! URAMESHI!”

The two males stopped their assault immediately, looking at an angry orange-haired boy. Their attention had been dwindled from Kurama for a few seconds..

“You have to give him a break. He’s tired! Can’t you tell he’s had enough?”

When the three looked back upon Kurama, the two humans felt a chill run down their spines. In place of his previously fiery-red hair, long, white strands adorned his head. Large, fuzzy ears twitched before he sat upward, pushing his two assailants off of him.

Before he could register it, Yoko pounced, and their positions were switched. Yusuke was now pinned under the demon effortlessly, squirming in anticipation.

“Now, now, Yusuke,” his smooth voice had murmured. “It seems you know what’s in store for you…”

The boy swallowed. Kuwabara backed up, grabbing a starstruck Hiei and pulling him off of the bed.

“Now, tell me,” Yoko demanded. “What is the difference between myself and my pathetically sensitive human form?”

The spirit gun user squirmed a bit in anticipation. “Y-You have claws?”

A rumbling laugh escaped the white-haired demon. “Astute observation, Yusuke, but that was not the answer I was seeking.”

Yusuke’s body squirmed and squirmed, trying to free himself as Yoko’s hand descended and rested atop of his tummy.

“Shuichi experiences human emotions, and I do not,” Yoko whispered calmly. “And among those emotions…”

Yusuke all but screamed when he felt the demon’s claws begin their ticklish assault on his sides. It was 100x worse than Shuichi’s more gentle approach. His bottom instantly arched up from the bed as helpless laughter poured from his lips.

“Is mercy…”

—————♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎—————

[necrophiliak]

umm. bhaal thoughts nd stuff under the cut. ive seen a lot of stuff mischaracterising/interpreting/whatever and it bothers me. i like him.

bg1+2+3 spoilers btw.

i dont wanna seem uhhh. confrontational or anything so this is just me airing thoughts out cz its true u dont rly Hear from him much directly in bg3 so i guess i get why ppl wouldnt know or think certain stuff. and im not the worlds expert on the topic as much as id like to be. but writing gods in stuff is never easy i think, especially as a fan, since they function on totally different ideas and have worldviews we could never possibly understand, etc etc

i think what bothers me the most is the misconception that bhaal would give a shit what the urge does. he definitely doesnt. the canon bg1+2 is a human male goodguy (derogatory) and even he was still supposedly favoured by bhaal (in that achieving slayer form was from a feeling of 'divine hatred' and not an actual gift since bhaal at the time was dead and he was favoured not for this but in that he was the strongest of all his spawn (this is bg2 stuff btw i highly recommend u play both those games if u liked bg3 durge)) i actually miss how bg2 introduced that form its way better than in 3 but thats a big tangent ToT and i get why since the durge was quite literally made with it in mind anyway he didnt care about the prev spawn because their only purpose was to die anyway. but he doesnt care abt what durge does either. he would not care if he was fucking gortash. the one constant w him is that all he cares about is the end goals, the process doesnt matter at all. i cant be bothered putting screenshots in rn but both the durge's old diary and sarevok say "bhaal cares only for death. death in numbers, death in droves." and the ingame proof is in that even if u refuse to kill isobel u can still get the slayer form by agreeing to accept his gift in the temple. whether u killed isobel or not just determines if u get slayer form early. the other proof is orin, who doesnt follow him as he would ideally want either (too focused on making 'art' with death instead of actually killing) but still gets to be his chosen if u play as tav instead of durge (he also doesnt like the way shes loyal to sarevok more than him) hes pretty pragmatic

also the other thing... abt the butlers. sceleritas isnt there to ensure u are loyal, thats his own prerogative and pride as a butler. tho i think the specifics of him in general are left intentionally vague. the rest of bhaals butlers are always imps, and his own was also an imp (theyre made in his imps image after all), bt sceleritas is made in bhaals image. since he has a glued on nose and the colouring on his face looks like a skull. and the earrings are mirroring the slayers facial horns. thats a bit of a tangent tho umm anyway, my point is that durge got a very special butler for reasons we can only guess at. (tho i enjoy thinking that he really was meant more as a nanny/standin parent figure)

anyway that got sort of long. i love dad a lot. everyones durge can be different frm canon obviously... bt bhaal is an established char, nd a super interesting one (i have a lot of thoughts abt the similarities w mystra+shar especially cz of bg3 and the way sheart+gale narrative's play out bt again thats uhhhhh a HUGE tangent and im not even sure how to word my thoughts)

anyway tldr bhaal is a very hands off parent and doesnt give a shit what u do as long as u get the job done (and i love him very much 🥺)

oh also if u math the years out, durge is 20yrs old at max. and that takes the assumption that bhaal made u ASAP after he was resurrected. trivia. if u wanna read the thing wheree he gets rezzed, its the 'murder at baldurs gate' story which also comes with a rly intensive worldbuilding manual for the city which could help w fanfic or whatever u want. i enjoyed reading it (helping w dnd stuff T_T).

another edit: i doubt anyone except me is rly interested bt i have soooo much to say on the topic of how bhaal treats the urge (positively+unconditionally), sceleritas in general, and the way the urges journey mirrors bhaals own fall from grace and coming back stronger, etc etc, i already wrote half of it on twitter anyway so if theres interest i can share it here too

[dreamescapeswriting]

In general, I understand why you wouldn’t want minors reading smut and I agree with putting warnings out there but you just seem OBSESSED with it. Like more than any other blog I’ve ever seen. To the point it’s really off putting.

They’re going to read it regardless. I completely agree with refusing to write certain triggers or things because I’ve definitely seen some disgusting stuff out there, but I just don’t understand why you’re so worried about the age of your readers or requesters. A 13 year old could create a blog and say they’re 30 so unless you require proof of ID you really didn’t prevent anything.

It seems like just more stress on your part. I used to follow you a long time ago but like every two days you’d post about how you were blocking accounts that didn’t provide their age or have anything posted. It’s just got annoying so I unfollowed and recently came across one of your posts again and nothing has changed.

I think you’re super talented and I’ve always wanted to request something from you but it honestly gives me anxiety so I turn to other blogs that don’t make me feel like I’m doing something wrong even though I’m not a minor. I’m not comfortable doing it off of anon and I don’t want my age and info out there either, even if it’s just for you. It feels like getting a background check just to request something.

It’s your blog and you have the complete right to do whatever you want and I don’t have to follow you either. I know all of that. I also know this is going to come off as rude and I really don’t mean it that way. I guess I’m just trying to understand your thought process around it. Maybe it could open my eyes more and I could see it from your perspective and be more understanding about why you push this so much.

Hiya darling,

Thanks for sharing your thoughts and being honest with me, I appreciate you coming to me with this and letting me explain my side on this matter. While I understand that it can be frustrating and off-putting to see reminders about what I have on my account it's needed.

Firstly, my main concern is protecting both myself and my readers when I put those mature posts out on the internet. The internet is a tricky and very weird place, and as a content creator who deals with adult material, I have a responsibility to ensure I'm not inadvertently providing explicit content to minors. This is not only a personal ethical stance but a legal one in many places of the world. 

I understand that minors might still find ways to access adult content, not just mine but many others, despite my and many other people's efforts, and I know that it's virtually impossible to prevent it but by setting clear boundaries and rules on my account, I am doing my part to discourage that as much as humanly possible. It's true people lie about their age, but having an age in their bio or not accepting anonymous requests creates a deterrence.

My old (since I have not posted about it since) about blocking blank accounts were always about filtering out any accounts that could be seen as bots, that be porn bots or just random bots that flood Tumblr, and stopping people who solely make accounts just to steal work from hard-working authors such as myself and many others who put content out into the world for free and end up having it stolen from people. Putting those posts out was about maintaining a safe and responsible space for me and others who lurk on my account. It also helps me interact with people who respect these boundaries and understand them and why they're in place in the first place. 

In regards to the stress it might seem to cause to many others, I find that being upfront and putting these kinds of things in place reduces my stress when it comes to posting. It allows me to focus more on creating content without constantly worrying about the age of my readers. The transparency on my part (and those who abide by the "rules" - I guess) helps create a more comfortable environment for those who follow and interact with this blog. 

I understand that not everyone is comfortable sharing their account when requesting smut, which is why I offer to hide your @ whenever people send me requests. Which this has worked for people in the past and still to this day. I would never judge someone for sending me something, as I've always prided myself on keeping a safe space on my account so if for some reason you don't feel comfortable or it gives you anxiety I deeply apologise.

While not everyone feels okay with adding their age on a bio, it's important to me and many other authors on Tumblr so that I and readers all feel safe sharing content intended for those over age. It's crucial that I feel I'm not contributing to the exposure of explicit content to people underage. 

Finding a balance between the concerns I have are a challenge, I and many other authors struggle with it all the time. I realise it's not the perfect solution for everyone but this is the only way I feel comfortable. 

Some people may read adult content regardless of barriers that are set in place, and I respect that people make their own choices, my policies are a way to set a standard and communicate that I'm taking my responsibility seriously, making an effort to guide my content to the age-appropriate audience, therefore I'm morally and legally covered. 

I'm sorry if this causes you anxiety as that is never my aim in life, but please understand that it also causes me anxiety when I don't know the age of people requesting adult content. Imagine how uncomfortable it would be for a 20+-year-old to find out that her explicit writings were asked for by a minor. This is a situation I - and other authors - want to avoid at all costs, both for ethical and peace of mind reasons. Without these policies in place, I would have to consider stopping writing adult content altogether to ensure I'm not inadvertently harming anyone or breaking any laws. Without these things in place, I would have to consider stopping writing smut altogether to ensure I'm not inadvertently harming anyone. 

Thank you for taking the time to reach out. I hope I got my points across without coming across as bitchy as I don't want that to be the case. 

Kind regards,

~M

[rosesradio]

i’m posting a thing that’s not fanfic for the first time, i guess it’s an original work. it’s just my commentary on things i guess, it reads like a black mirror episode lol

tw: thought inspection, suicide mention, bigotry mention

word count: 1.3k

All this trouble, you think. All this screen time on the news, covering up every other issue...

You wished their time would come to an end. That it would all come to an end.

Your phone vibrated in your pocket, and you took a look at the screen:

Hey, said the little notification from TIC. That wasn't very nice. You should demonstrate more empathy for others! 🙂

A cold chill ran down your spine as your fingers came up to lightly touch the back of your neck. There was a chip there, small and unassuming, like Doc Ock's in Spider-Man. Like that chip, you knew full well that it would not serve you.

Want a quieter TIC experience? Upgrade to TIC Plus starting at $14.99.

You remembered going on a forum, one of the last places that was not asking for your government ID, and looking through the discussions. Someone was discussing a hate group gathering in a nearby city; they'd been hurling racial slurs at children.

I don't get it, one of the forum members started, isn't the TIC giving you notifications to cut that shit out? Show more empathy or smth.

Idk, another member replied, his hand proudly raised in his profile picture. Got TIC plus, I'm not dealing with that shit. Freedom of speech.

It probably doesn't matter, a third forum member replied. They pay, they get to stay—that's the TIC way.

The dig was subtle, though you had seen the comment live for a whole two minutes before a large This comment has been deleted by TIC for the safety of minors viewing text took its place.

Strangely enough, you never saw this kind of message for the hate speech on the forum. Perks of TIC plus, you supposed.

Swallowing, you ignored your own notification in favor of rummaging through your fridge for sliced meat and cheese. There was a nostalgia for the days in which you could afford more ingredients for your favorite foods, but—well, the stores didn't sell much of anything anymore. No one can afford anything, but you were lucky you could still make a good sandwich.

As for the TIC, you tried not to think about it when you could help it. Then again, you knew about the white bear experiment—the more you tried to push something out of your mind, the more it popped up.

Repetition helped. It drove you up the wall, but you found the TIC wouldn't harass you with more than one notification if you only thought one prompting thought repeatedly.

The TIC, or the Thought Impediment Center, was still new. It was all anyone could talk about for a year. There was excuse after excuse to explain its existence:

Our handy notifications reach out to tell you that you are not alone during a mental health crisis. Try BetterHelp and get matched with a five-star therapist today!

With this recording of data, we will be able to ensure criminals face charges during the planning period. Crime will go down in droves!

They were right about that. Everything went down in droves. Hollywood had to shut down because of the sheer amount of attention one studio got during their work on a heist movie.

When you thought about it, you were one of the lucky ones, getting one so late in the game. It came in layers—if you don't get one, you can't get food stamps. If you don't get one, you can't get medical care. As if those things weren’t hard enough to access already. College is what got you. You thought about dropping out, but you had to keep going—you couldn't just drop out and give up your dream job.

You didn't dream of work, of course. However, being a librarian seemed like a perfect fit for you.

After that interview last week, though...

You sighed, buttering up your bread and assembling your sandwich on the pan.

You had interviewed for a librarian assistant position last week, though you were rejected for two key reasons.

One was because you had a master's degree, and not your doctorate. Not to mention you only had five years of experience instead of seven. It made sense now that you thought about it—why would you be qualified for that position, with its thirty-two thousand dollar salary? No, you were much better off at the donut shop. It wasn't a bad place at all, though it wasn't where you wanted to remain forever.

The other reason you didn't get hired...

To be fair, the TIC-checking was new. How were you supposed to be prepared for it?

The lady at the interview, a kind, grandmotherly looking woman named Janine, voiced that she was also not a fan of the new TIC checking.

"The TIC in general is a bit of nonsense to me," she said. Her phone vibrated. "Sorry...I had to get one. Otherwise they were going to cut funding for the library, and..." her phone vibrated again, and she huffed. "I wouldn't feel quite so bad if they didn't take my family's chocolate chip cookie recipe. I'm sure you've heard of the Miller's chocolate chip cookie recipe by now?"

You had. You'd used the damn recipe, and the cookies were great. You shook your head for Janine’s sake. That seemed to help her feel better.

Ignoring the barrage of notifications, you had thought about how the TIC had come to the rescue of companies as they had lost money due to online censorship. People logged off social media sites, so they lost money in advertising. They had to have a revenue to make up for that.

It wasn’t just TIC Plus, or it’s advertising. It was the selling of data to third parties. That was nothing new, though this time, it was selling your thoughts. That was how Janine Miller’s family cookie recipe was sold to allrecipes.

At least it was just a cookie recipe. You had heard of Kaitlyn Johnson on the news, the twenty-one year old who had taken her own life after her pornographic thoughts had been sold to ChatGPT 7.2. They’d recreated them and sold the videos featuring her without her consent to sites across the internet.

That was why you had tried to suppress your thoughts as much as possible, though you knew that one day, you would slip up.

It didn’t matter, because as Janine Miller searched through the TIC-provided record of your thoughts over the past couple days, she found the exact sort of information she needed.

It was everything she couldn’t have in an employee. You thought about how much you loathed TIC, how much you loathed the job market and the housing market and the government and the advertising. The censorship, the restriction, the hate in the world. There was even a fleeting sexual fantasy or two, as you could no longer access smut without presenting your government ID. God forbid if you wanted to get off for the first time in weeks, right?

Your thoughts, restricted as they may be, held a fraction of the vitriol and imperfection of humanity you held in your heart.

With your thoughts laid out loud and clear, the only thing Janine Miller could do was look at you. Her gentle eyes were pitiful—perhaps a little disgusted, as if you were a writhing bug on the sidewalk.

She said sorry.

Eyes stinging, you nodded.

And you went home.

You’d cried for an hour or more, no longer caring if your four roommates could hear.

You wanted it all to end.

You had a migraine.

Your phone vibrated. Your mind rang as you heard that familiar feminine voice read your notification:

Suffering from headaches and migraines? Try Excedrin Migraine Pain relief! Guaranteed results in less than 30 minutes!

Swallowing, hands shaking where they rested against the countertop, you nodded.

Added to cart.

[vesselsscarlet]

I sent some asks to crow that never got answered so im not sure if im one of the anons you are referring to specifically. The last ask i sent was one giving my thoughts on extending the deadline as a creative myself. I cant remember all i said, but i was suggesting working on the project somewhat before you decide on whether or not to extend the deadline, suggesting that might be the best way to ensure the best quality final project. I was trying to give a suggestion as a creative, not trying to compare your project to my own creative projects, but it might have come off wrong.

I never sent anything in for a lot of personal reasons. Having my letter perceived by vessel was nervewracking, having my letter perceived by you two was nervewracking, im nervous about interacting with pretty much everyone online for reasons id rather not get into, and because the way you two were talking about the lack of submissions had me doubting my letter would ever get to vessel to begin with and having less letters sent had my fears of being perceived even stronger.

So maybe my suggestions arent particularly welcome because of that, i can understand that. I also was, to be perhaps a bit too blunt, frustrated with your frustration and to some extent or another passive aggressive. But for that last bit, thats unfair of me and i should be more considerate. Im sorry you two are struggling so much with this project not turning out as you wanted, and if i badly handled the asks i sent thats on me. Please try to take care of yourselves, stay safe, etc

Hey anon.

First of all, thank you for understanding and also saying sorry. It means a lot.

The asks Crow received were mostly by a lot of anons, so we cannot actually tell which ones were yours and which not. But the quantity of anon-asks and us being frustrated, with the wordings of some asks (again, we don't know who the anons behind them were) made us upset and also very sad. Because we wanted to make that happen for all of you. The simple reason why we didn't want to extend the deadline was because we announced the ideas back before Christmas 2023. So there was plenty of time. And one can send us a DM and ask for more time if it was needed. We would have found a way.

But being passive aggressive and frustrated because we were (I hope you understand why we were upset etc.) didn't make it easier for us, and we lost motivation in this one. Because we felt like – we are not doing anything worth for Vessel to see, or thinking that you guys would not appreciate it in the end etc. We had serious doubts why we actually had wanted this to work and why we were still putting our hearts in it.

Its fine if you didn't submit anything in the end because of said personal reasons. We cannot blame you on this. But...

But... I don't want to repeat myself again.

It would have been a part of a project anyways.

Vessel would have gotten your message, maybe not in the book we aimed to do but maybe for another project. And we ensured that. Many times. So I don't understand this... We don't want to repeat ourselves all the time.

What I personally don't understand is the part of you being frustrated because we were frustrated. You are allowed to explain it but we were just because of reminding people and constantly dealing with asks of things that we already answered or getting compared to different projects, asking why it was the case of not getting too many submissions, extending the deadline etc. etc.

We decided to take a look if my final words ever reach people and what they say to it.

And then we decide what's best.

One is for sure:

This project isn't going to be handed over this year by me to Adam or Sam.

– Lia

Crow said to this:

After dealing with condescending and passive aggressive asks, I simply didn't feel like answering anything that is not an actual question regarding the project because it only brings in other anon asks and it's a never ending cycle of the same stuff, that I don't want to deal with anymore.

[invisibleraven]

Growing old can go to hell

Reggie's twenty first birthday is not something he's exactly looking forward to. Thankfully Ray and Rose are there to help him through it.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @innytoes!

As a present, I wrote you angst set in your amazing Reggie is the one who survives AU verse.

I hope you enjoy!

On AO3!

Reggie’s first birthday after The Orpheum is a haze. He spent most of his days then so deep in grief that every moment seemed to blur together. He slept when he could, but he was so often plagued by nightmares that he’s not sure when he’s awake or asleep or anything. Those were dark days, and he’s really not sure when he quite surfaced to even note that he was any older.

The next year Reggie is in therapy, but he’s also trying to write music again, trying to live again. It’s hard, and he loses more days than he gains in staring at his notebook, blank of all the things he longs to say. Rose and Ray try to encourage him, but there’s only so much he can do. He’s taken to sitting in the shower, letting the water wash away the black, bleak thoughts that consume him, but he tries not to do it too often. The days still all seem to swim together, so he never really registers when he’s suddenly nineteen.

Twenty is spent in the hospital. He tripped over a cord helping set up at a Petal Pushers show, busting his ankle. The nurse who processes his paperwork is the first one to wish him a happy birthday, and he knows he nods in acknowledgement, but that’s it.

Rose and Ray are a bit dismayed that he never shared his birthday with them. He’d certainly celebrated theirs over the past few years, but never his own. He tells them that he’s never been one for birthdays, it’s fine, he’d rather not do anything. They aren’t happy about it, but they accept the lie.

Which it blatantly is.

Because as a kid, Reggie loved his birthday. MeeMaw would always make him a cake, heaped with frosting and sprinkles, singing in her warm southern drawl with Pops strumming along on his banjo. Gifting him with books, toys, and when he was old enough, a horse named Jake. His parents would not be as warm, mainly ensuring he got clothes and things he needed, but it was a day they didn’t fight, which was enough for him.

But then they moved away from Georgia, and his birthdays kind of just… stopped. Money was tighter, so Reggie understood. He bought himself a snack cake from the 7-11 and quietly sang to himself from then on.

Well until he met his boys.

Luke, Alex, and Bobby always made a big deal of birthdays. Their families all sucked, so they made sure they all had a day that they felt loved by the people that really mattered. They would get each other a cake from the grocery store, and while the presents might be a roll of tokens from the arcade or a pizza, or a new guitar strap, they were filled with love. Plus they would end the night with a jam session and their favourite movies.

Reggie never thought when he ended his seventeenth birthday, falling asleep against Luke’s shoulder while Return of the Jedi played on, would be the last he would celebrate that way.

This year was somehow all the worse though, because they had made plans for this year. Getting into a real bar without having to use the truly awful fakes that Bobby had gotten them. Drinking something that wasn’t the watered down beer Alex stole from his dad in a fit of rebellion. Going to every bar and trying to get a gig there now that they were legally allowed in.

But now they wouldn’t get to do any of that.

And Reggie broke down into sobs when it hit him that Luke, Alex, and Bobby never would. They would never be any older than seventeen. They would never have a real ID to use on the disinterested bouncers on the Strip, or be able to buy their first legal drink.

Reggie knew he needed to keep living, Dr. Butler and him had many a long talk about not giving into despair, that he needed to keep going, live the life his boys never would. Which was what he had to do, because Reggie was 21 now, and soon enough he’d be 22, 25, 30… he would keep on aging, getting older.

Alone.

No, that wasn’t fair. He might not have the guys any longer, but he still had Ray and Rose. The two loves of his life, who supported him in every way, who picked him back up when things were the bleakest. He could still celebrate with them. Grow old with them, even if Ray had forbidden cracks about the few years that separated them long ago.

He was sure Rose was just waiting to ask what he wanted to do for his birthday, and while the temptation to say nothing was there, he decided that for them, he could celebrate again. Just… not in the same way, that would be too hard.

Sure enough, it was a day or two later that Rose pounced. Well, more so made circles with her finger on his chest as they all came down from their orgasms, Ray snuggled into his other side, a mere moment away from dreamland.

“So tesoro,” Rose started. “It’s your birthday in a few days.”

“Yup.”

“What do you want to do? It’s a bit late to plan a surprise party…”

“Oh God, don’t do that,” Reggie pleaded with a grimace. “I hate surprise parties.”

“We could have a few people over?” Ray suggested sleepily. “Tori and the Petal Pushers, maybe a few people from the studio?” He nuzzled his nose behind Reggie’s ear, then along his jaw, and even as sated as Reggie was, the move still made him shiver.

“I think I’d rather just have a quiet night in with the two of you,” Reggie confessed. “Eat some cake, go to bed early.”

“Are you sure? Twenty one is a big one, we have no problem making a big fuss, or going out to a bar with you,” Rose offered.

“No,” Reggie shook his head. “Just… low key birthday at home. That’s all I want.”

“Can we at least get you a present?” Ray asked.

“Nothing big,” Reggie said. “I… birthdays are hard for me. I just want to get through the day.”

“We don’t have to celebrate if you don’t want to,” Rose whispered, pressing a kiss to his heart.

“I know you want to though,” Reggie said, lifting her hand to press a kiss to her knuckles, then repeating the motion to Ray. “You’ve both done so much for me, the least I can do is let you throw me a bit of a birthday.”

“Red velvet cake then?” Rose said with a smirk.

“My favourite,” Reggie said with a smile.

“Pizza, cake, presents, sounds like a good birthday to me,” Ray remarked with a yawn. “Sleep first though.”

The other two agreed, and before long, they were all asleep, and Reggie smiled as he dreamed of cake.

~

The day of Reggie’s birthday was gray and misty, which he thought fitting, as it matched his gloomy mood. How could he even think of celebrating? Here he was, alive and healthy while his best friends were dead, and if it weren’t for fate, Reggie would have-should have-died with them. It wasn’t fair that he got to grow older, to live life to the fullest when their lives were just… over.

He peered open his bleary eyes, wiping his palm over his face. It was rare he slept alone these days, but he had begged for solitude the night before, and his partners had granted it. Probably for the best, since he had no wish to see them. To see their disappointment when he could barely manage to get up, let alone spend the day acknowledging his birth.

He groped for the phone, finally bringing it to him, and sighed. He should call someone, let them absorb his worries and guilt, absolve him of his melancholy. Only… who on Earth would he call?

Alex, Luke, and Bobby were gone, and he had little to nothing to do with their families. Bobby’s lola Celia was the only exception, but she was in a home now, and he felt weird calling her so early. He knew that Luke’s parents had tried reaching out a few times, but after no response from him, they stopped. Reggie couldn’t find it in him to talk to Emily, to look her in the eye and explain why her darling boy was gone, but he was still here.

He hadn’t seen or spoken to his own parents since that fateful July day, and that was a mere “I’m going out!” at them while they argued. He’s not sure where they think he is, and he had only gone back to get his things when he knew they were out. Sure, it was cowardly, but without the guys to back him, Reggie knew returning to that house would only spell disaster.

He could call MeeMaw. He should call MeeMaw honestly. He was all she had left really, and they talked every week for the most part. But then he remembered that she was out with some of her friends on some cruise or another. She had told him she’d try to call if she could get reception, but if not, she’d ensure they had a long jaw when she got back, and that his card was in the mail.

But Reggie called none of those options, instead dialing a very familiar number, oh so slowly rotating the dial for each one, and then hoping and praying that there would be no answer as the call connected.

“Dr. Butler’s office, Inez speaking.”

“H-hi Inez, it’s Reggie,” he said softly. “Is she free?”

“Oh hi babe, lemme see… Yes, she had a cancellation this morning. Gimme a sec and I’ll patch you through.”

“Thanks Inez, you’re a doll.”

“Anything for you sweetcheeks,” Inez giggled. Reggie knew the woman enjoyed their little flirtations, she claimed they made her feel young again. Even when Reggie protested that forty five was not old, nor did she look it. “Oh and Reg? Happy Birthday.”

Reggie was sure he choked out a thanks as the hold music played, his grip on the phone almost white knuckled. Finally the awful tuneless gibber was done, and the smokey voice of Pepper echoed down the line. “I was wondering when you were gonna call.”

“Hey Pep.”

“Hey sweetie, doing okay?”

Reggie gave a mirthless laugh. “What do you think?”

Pepper hummed. “Well I don’t know Reginald, I’m not a mind reader, remember. That’s the whole point of you coming to me right? So you can tell me how you’re feeling and I come up with ways to help you cope or deal or whatever it is you need. So I’ll ask again, how are you?”

“Pretty shitty, honestly,” Reggie admitted. Then told her how he was feeling-the black mire of guilt that he was here and his friends were not. That they never would be, and the unfairness of it all.

“It is unfair, yes,” Pepper said. “But it’s not your fault Reggie, we’ve been over this.”

“But if I hadn’t gotten distracted by that dog…”

“Then you might have very well eaten the street dogs too and be dead as well.”

“Maybe I should be,” Reggie said. “It feels… wrong that I’m not.”

“Do you think any of your friends would feel that way if it had been them that survived instead of you?” Pepper asked. They’d gone through this dialogue so many times before, and Reggie knew what his depressed brain wanted to say, and what answer Pepper wanted to hear.

“No,” he sighed. “They would keep living, keep going. Which is what I need to do.”

“Good,” Pepper hummed. “First step though; get through today. I know it’s going to be hard, but you’ve got your partners there with you, and I’m just a phone call away.”

Reggie slowly breathed out of his nose, centering himself. “I know.”

“You got this kiddo,” Pepper said reassuringly. “Now go demolish a slice of cake for me and I’ll see you next week.”

“Thanks Pep.”

“Happy Birthday Reggie.”

There’s a knock on the door as he places the phone back on the receiver, and he calls out a hello. Ray and Rose tentatively open the door, apprehensive smiles on their faces, and Reggie grins, beckoning them closer. Moaning when he sees the try piled high with breakfast.

“Figured we’d start the day off right at the very least,” Ray says, pressing a kiss to his temple.

“You sleep okay?” Rose asks, swiping a piece of toast as Reggie takes a deep drink of the coffee they brought, already doctored just the way he likes it-black as night with enough sugar to kill a man.

“Not especially,” Reggie admits, taking a bite of the crispy bacon. “Nightmares and the like.”

“You know you can always come to us when you can’t sleep tesoro,” Ray reminds him.

“I know, but I was tossing and turning-I wanted at least you two to have a good night’s sleep,” Reggie replies. “Plus it just means we can all snuggle and have a nap later.”

“Devious ulterior motive,” Rose says.

After that there’s little talking as they polish off the food, and as much as he wants to, Reggie doesn’t ask what their plan is. He knows that if he does, he’ll protest them making a big deal out of him. Instead goes with the flow, lets them put the dishes away and then lets himself be pulled into a hot bubble bath. He sighs with contentment the moment he sinks into the water, head lolling against Ray’s shoulder, hands coming up to embrace Rose. Giggling when she pokes his side, wiggling her eyebrows and motioning to under the water where he is poking her.

Reggie really loves baths okay?

They stay in the bath a while, sloshing the water about, until their skin is pruned, their legs are wobbly, and they are freshly cleaned under the shower spray after making the bath water just a little dirty. The warm towel envelops Reggie and he laughs when Ray uses it to ruffle his hair, while Rose frees her curls from the bun she had sported in the bath.

From there they get dressed, all casual lazing around clothes, and Reggie takes a small comfort in his favourite flannel, welcoming him and shielding him a little, like it was armour instead of worn cotton.

They spend the rest of the morning in the garden. Rose has the green thumb of the three of them, and she putters around, tending to her flowers while Ray weeds, adding the pile to the compost. Reggie takes out his acoustic, strumming idly and fetches them a pitcher of lemonade to enjoy as the sun grows higher in the sky. He’s learned long ago that he and plants don’t get along, so aside from watering the ones that fill the studio-his own form of meditation and prayer-he tends not to touch the greenery, lest he kill it all.

Lunch is simple grilled cheese, eaten on the patio, the radio playing softly and Reggie gives a soft smile as one of the songs that comes on is one of his. A sweet tender ballad about lost love that Rose helped him pen. She had refused the credit, but Reggie still sneaks half the residuals from it into her account every month and Ray pretends he doesn’t know when she questions them both about the extra money.

The afternoon is spent napping. Reggie curls in between Ray and Rose on their bed, sighing in comfort as he sinks into the mattress. Inhaling their combined scent, the sweet apple pie scent of their fabric softener, the flowery scent of Rose, the more citrusy scent of Ray, and Reggie’s own smell-the cedar and bergamot aftershave that Alex had bought him one year and he kept buying even if it wasn’t his favourite, just to keep that part of him alive.

He sleeps fitfully at first, but Rose just grips him tighter, singing soft lullabies in Spanish, while Ray adorns his face and neck with soft kisses that eventually helps settle his restless being. He awakens as it gets close to supper time, stretching and yawning. He’s slightly surprised to find Ray and Rose there with him, but ultimately pleased. Rose is reading a book while Ray is quietly doing a crossword puzzle, both of them smiling down at him.

“Good nap?” Ray asks quietly.

“Much needed,” Reggie replies around a yawn. “Thanks for staying.”

“Never an issue hun,” Rose assures him, leaning down for a simple kiss before they all slowly leave the bed. Rose calls for pizza, and they devour it in front of the television, watching some of Reggie’s favourites; The Breakfast Club, Star Wars, and Labyrinth.

“Time for cake?” Ray asks as Bowie starts to sing.

“Cake?’ Reggie asks, then freezes. He had forgotten it was his birthday. He had simply spent a day with his loves, as they had never mentioned it. A wave of feeling washed over him. “Yeah, sure, cake.” He knew his voice was low and sad, but…

“We won’t sing, or make you wear the hat if you don't want,” Rose said.

“No no it’s just…’ Reggie starts, wiping at the tears starting to form in his eyes. And just lets loose all his hang ups about this day. A torrent of grief and regret, and guilt, so much guilt. But Rose and Ray hold him through it all, clean his face when he’s done. And promise to always be there, to remind him of what he needs to-what he has to live for.

They might not understand, but Reggie’s eternally grateful for the two of them, and with watery eyes and a snotty smile, urges Rose to get the cake. “Think I need it after all that.”

Ray jumps up and gets them all stupid party hats, Reggie not even complaining when the elastic cuts into his chin. Manages to keep smiling as Rose enters with the cake, a deep red colour coated in heaps of frosting, a few candles burning atop it. Rose and Ray sing Happy Birthday to him, in Spanish and English, even though Ray is horribly off tune, and Rose is trying her best not to laugh at his horrid singing.

Reggie looks at the dripping wax, and knows he should make a wish. But the one thing he wishes for, he can’t have. No amount of candles will bring his boys back. Instead he wishes for happiness, for the hurt to lessen, and for many more birthdays like this one, surrounded by the loves of his life.

The cake is delicious, as always, and Reggie wonders if he can get away eating another slice for breakfast the next day. Then it’s time for presents. Reggie protests that they didn’t have to get him anything, but Rose holds a finger up to his lips to silence him.

“It’s your birthday, presents are mandatory,” she says. “Plus we spent very little on them, so shush and open them.”

Rose gives him a little coupon book; a get out of dishes card, a massage, breakfast for dinner, silly little things that he can turn in anytime before next year. He loves it, and tells her so. Ray hands him a framed photo of the three of them, squished together in a hammock and looking radiantly happy, Reggie can’t even remember the photo being taken, but he does recall the contentment he felt at that moment, and kisses both of his partners in thanks.

“We have one more,” Ray says, and he looks almost… apprehensive as he hands the box over.

Reggie tears the paper off, and sucks in a breath. It’s a scrapbook, and the cover has the Sunset Curve logo across it. With trembling fingers he opens it, sucking back a sob as the first photo is a shot of the four of them at a gig, sweaty and smiling, not a care in the world. What follows is shot after shot of Luke, Alex, and Bobby. Reggie features in the group shots, but he took a lot of these photos himself, and had stored them in a shoebox in his closet.

There’s ticket stubs to their gigs, handwritten lyrics, liners from their demo, it’s all here. A testament that Sunset Curve existed, that they lived. The final photo is what breaks Reggie though, the tears flowing freely, as it shows the guys surrounding Reggie as he blows out the candles on the cake they got him for his 17’th birthday.

“This is… this is so much,” he finally manages to get out.

“We wanted you to always have a piece of them,” Ray said.

“They’ll always be here,” Rose states, tapping his heart. “But know they can be right here, whenever you need them.”

“I love you both so much,” Reggie cries, letting the tears flow freely as they hug him tight, the book falling to the coffee table as he brings them in closer.

Reggie will never be a big fan of his birthday, even if they do get easier in time. But this one? This one will always be his favourite.

[eternalera]

My theory is that Mimzy was once Alastor’s best friend, he maybe even thought he might have been in love with her at one point, in that manner aroace people who don’t know they’re aroace often do, that she was then sacrificed by this cult, and that Alastor had them infiltrated and taken down every member of that cult over decades, losing more and more of himself each time as those he killed grew less and less directly connected to the crime, “sorry you just got in my way, maybe I enjoy it just a little bit does that make me insane”, but that in the act of doing so, that contradiction of righteous intent and pure depravity, along with whatever ritual for power the cult had initially started upon, let’s say in honour of Roo (the root of all evil in the Hellaverse, a character yet to be introduced), and that on Alastor’s eventual death, he then found himself in Hell all-powerful, and set about bringing down those Overlords beneath his power continuing this moral code, until he hit a wall, finding himself having ended all Overlords less powerful than him / otherwise came to his senses on meeting Mimzy again and finding her to have gone to hell, recognising that “weren’t you an old pal of mine” and really nothing more and deciding mere power, entertainment is all he now desires. But that still, out of obligation, that he must kill Lucifer, the Devil, for a sense of completion, while still being allowed to exist himself afterward. Which leads to whatever deal he ended up trapped in seven years before the events of the series, and him getting Charlie to make a deal with him to “harm no one” at a certain point in the future: to ensure that when the time comes that he will be able to kill Lucifer, and the one person able to stop him won’t be able to. To really make Alastor a true Exterminator, more measured, the embodiment of how the road to Hell is paved with good intentions.

i do like the idea of alastor just wanting to take down everyone and even lucifer and using charlie as a way for that.

although their condition of the rule 'it cant harm anyone' is kinda vague but im pretty sure it mainly pertains to charlie cant hurt anyone. but if alastor wants to harm someone then charlie has to step away and let him do it instead of interfere. would that count as harming someone? id say it really depends on both of their interpretations of the deal as we have no actual contract or definition for that part of it

honestly im really excited to learn more about alastor and watch the deal he made with charlie play out :>

[the-somewhat-rambling-reviewer]

Cherry Magic Ep 6 (Thailand)

Nice of the rest of the boat to just patiently wait for this private conversation to be finished.

I’m not sure if this was a translation error or not. Achi saying he’s always known Karan’s feelings is incorrect from a character standpoint, but him saying he already knew would be accurate.

Respect when someone says they don’t drink, jerkass.

I do feel genuinely bad for Karan, just like I did for Kurosawa. Both were prepared to be very professional, and both were not only treated horribly inappropriately with it arguably verging into sexual assault territory, especially in Karan’s case, both were penalised for their, actually, relatively mild reactions to being treated so badly.

I did like how this version handled Karan taking a metaphorical bullet for Achi.

Part of me is always going to love how unique the Japanese version is with Adachi really not registering Kurosawa on any significant level until the telepathy came into play, but I do like how these flashbacks set up the present dynamics between the two. Achi never got to know Karan on a deeply personal level back then, but he saw how thorough Karan was, he recognised the kindness Karan extended to him, and unlike in the Japanese version, he truly gained a genuine respect for Karan as a person, whereas, Adachi just had a basic respect for Kurosawa as another human being.

Also, the memory pen thing was sweet and adorable, but it’s a shame Karan went along with it instead of being a little braver and approaching Achi when sober and in a better emotional place. He could have offered the pen back, thanked him, and made an overture of friendship.

What is Achi, the pen warden?

Poor Karan can’t get up the nerve to ask Achi to see a concert with him, but he’s so gone that he’ll take something given to him in a quasi-scolding manner as a cherished gift.

Jinta has a point. I’m not really fond of the romcom trope of a relationship expert suddenly needing to find a partner, but it’s valid to want someone’s credentials before deciding whether or not to spend money on the material they produce.

I wouldn’t be surprised if Jinta and Min end up like that meme, Jinta: You’re flirting with me? Min: Have been for some time, thanks for finally noticing, also, I think I might need to talk to your bestie about his coworker if him being friends with you is any indication on his ability to receive signals.

Achi piecing together all Karan has quietly been doing for him for years was neat.

It’s also nice his reaction is wanting to make sure Karan is okay, feeling sympathy for what Karan has been going through, rather than it being framed as him missing being taken care of.

In an earlier episode, he was worried he was just using Karan due to liking being taken care of, but whether he realised he’s realised it or not, he knows now this isn’t the case.

Did Karan have Achi temporarily blocked, or was his phone turned off?

Oh, for frell’s sake. Pai could have just told Achi the information. She really doesn’t have any right to be so irritated about Rock inviting himself when she’s invited herself to what is clearly something private between her two coworkers.

That being said, her being, look, here’s my phone, ID, and the proper amount of money, so, even if I’m technically still stealing, I’m hoping you’ll allow it, hop on, Achi, I can and will drive this, was awesome.  

Why was Rock the one driving the motorbike instead of the actual driver? Or did Rock just find a nearby motorbike and go hey, I’ll take you to my awesome coworker who might have technically stolen your bike but I’m definitely driving?

I kind of imagine Karan hearing that Pai took Achi on a maybe stolen bike, they ran out of gas, and then, Achi ran in the hot Thailand weather and just immediately going, okay, Achi, we can have whatever type of relationship you want as long as it will ensure you never, ever get into a situation like that again.

I notice Pai rode side-saddle with Rock. I couldn’t actually see how she was sitting with Achi. Please, tell me she didn’t drive sitting side-saddle.

Damn, how far away was the airport? It was afternoon when Achi started running, dusky when Pai and Rock talked, and outright dark when he finally arrived.

Achi’s thought of receiving magic due to something higher favouring Karan is interesting, in-character, and exasperating. I’m not saying he might not be proven right later on, but it’s just as likely someone/something higher took a shine to him and realised the only way he’d get a person who utterly adores him and will always try to treat him right is if something drastic gave him the push to see said person was standing right in front of him, desperate to do just that.

[littlebigmouse]

Can you imagine, if Archie's daughter had access to AITA-reddit in 2012, after the Last Dam Job? "AITA for ignoring my father after I found out he has a secret daughter and he disappered on me for days? I (F, 42) recently visited my father (M, 72) with my husband and daughter. The relationship between me and my father has been a bit strained lately, ever since my mother passed about 6 months ago. Since he'd retired from his job as an accountant a few years ago, he doesn't really have anything to do. I had been worried he was getting lonely by himself in his old house, and suggested several solutions such as moving closer to me and my family, or even residential care (he uses a cane, and can barely walk at all on bad days) but he always shot me down, telling me he was fine. He's always been a bit distant, and can be really stubborn, so I didn't think anything of it, but I live out of state and can't exactly take care of him like this. During the recent visit, my daughter, my father and me went for a walk in the neighbourhood, where I raised the topic again. However, we were interrupted, when a strange blond woman (F, early 30s?) bumped into us. My father turned around and called out to her, and asked she return his wallet, my wallet and my daughters candy! She must have pickpocketed us without me noticing, but my father seemed strangely happy about it. I asked whether they knew each other and my father just hooked his arm around the woman, said "That's my daughter!" and walked off with her. I was too shocked to follow, and by the time I had caught myself I couldn't find them. We returned to my father's place and tried to call him several times, but he didn't pick up. My husband is far more patient than I am, and told me my father would surely be back and that this must be a misunderstanding, but when he still wasn't back by several hours later, we got worried. We asked around the neighbourhood, but no one had ever seen the blond woman before. We contacted the police but they told us they couldn't help. The next morning I'd gotten a message from my father, telling me he'd be dealing with some "important family business" for a few days and that we shouldn't worry about him. I tried calling him again, but couldn't reach him. I didn't know what to do by then, so I started searching through his bedroom and his office. I don't even know what I was looking for anymore, but after a while I found some hidden compartment behind one of his book shelves, with a box of fake ID's and newspaper clippings, mostly about robberies all over the world. This on its own wouldn't be too worrisome, as my father is a an art enthusiast and most of the articles seem to be about art robberies, I'd chalk it up to a weird part of his hobby. But for example one of the newspaper articles is from a french paper about a men dying in a car crash about 10 years ago, which matches one of the fake ID's. I still don't know what to think, but there's clearly more going on. I couldn't find anything on the woman, however. By then, my husband suggested we should go home the next day, as the end of our planned stay was coming up anyway and I was clearly shaken. However, the next morning, my father returned, happy and acting as if nothing had happened, and I snapped. I yelled at him about how worried we were, and that I had found his secret stash of ID's in his office. He got mad in turn, told me that I had no business snooping through his stuff. We said some pretty hurtful things to each other, but in the end he confirmed the woman's name, and that she was "his daughter". He told me in no uncertain terms that he would not discuss anything about her, as it wasn't my business and that we should just "trust him", but he ensured me that he had never cheated on my mother. I don't know how he thinks that works, since the woman was clearly younger than me and my brother. Still fuming I packed up my family and went home. He tried calling me several times in the following week, but I was so pissed I blocked his number and his facebook. My husband suggested I

should attempt to talk to my father again, and that I should try to calm down and try to salvage the situation, as there was clearly more to the story than we knew. But I have a right to be mad and frankly, since my father is making no effort, I want nothing to do with this mess anymore. Am I overreacting? Edit: Thank you for the many supportive messages, it feels good to know I wasn't overreacting. In the end, I informed my brother about the situation, like some of you suggested. He also had no idea what to make of any of this. In the end, however, my father came to visit (unannounced) and we had a long conversation I'm still a bit overwhelmed from. My father told us he met the woman when she had been a homeless teenager. She tried to rob him, and he caught her and decided to help her out, so over the next few years he gave her financial support. Her recent visit was because she ran into some kind of legal trouble (he remained cagey on what exactly, but assured us the situation was resolved) and reached out to him for help. He said he never told us about her because he knew how it would look if a man like him suddenly came home with a strange child. Our family is fairly wealthy, but at least that would explain all the extra work shifts he used to take on. When we asked why he didn't put her into foster care, he said that she had had severe behavioural issues back then, and would have just ended up on the street regardless, at least by providing her with money and shelter, he knew she would be fine. There's still some things I don't understand and I'm still reeling, but I really hope he's telling the truth and that he was a misguided philanthrope instead of cheating on my mother. I never would have expected anything like that from him. I still feel like I'm missing something, and he is far from forgiven, but at least some of the situation seems to be resolved.

Edit²: So it has been a while, but I guess you people deserve an update because a lot has happened since then. Since my father refused to give out any information on the woman, I kind of dropped the subject and our weekly calls, because I was still mad at him from keeping such a big secret. However, since my brother and I both felt like we were missing information, he ended up badgering my father about the woman's contact information, and my father eventually caved. We managed to contact her, and she essentially confirmed what my father had told me about her. She used to be a homeless orphan until my father caught her pickpocketing. They hadn't had much contact over the past few years anymore, and he had explicitely forbidden her from interacting with us the entire time they knew each other. I don't think she felt too comfortable interacting with us, but I felt kind of bad and extended the offer that we could keep in contact... She really didn't seem like she was lying, and if anything, the whole situation isn't her fault anyway. Long story short, we called each other a few times since then, and I ended up asking her about the fake ID's and some other weird things she mentioned. She went really quiet and said that this was my father's secret to tell. Fed up, my brother and I joined forces to get all of the answers out of my father once and for all. It was a very intense conversation, but here is the gist of it: Apparently, my father was faking being an accountant for our entire lifes. He used to be a successfull international art thief up until about ten years ago, when he "retired from the business" by faking his death in a car accident, which was about the time he found the pickpocketing woman. He let her stay in a warehouse (?!) and trained her up to be his successor as a thief, although my father claims she also got out of that business recently and is now running a restaurant with her boyfriend. My mother never found out about any of this. Also, his cane doubles as some sort of taser, which I found out because my daughter almost zapped herself with it. Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought anything like this could be real, and I really hope this is the last surprise in this particular mess. Thank you for your support and all the comments. I'm still mad at my father, but the entire situation has become so absurd I really don't know what to think anymore."

[hottestthingalive]

just want to extend my sincerest well-wishes to folks living in new england right now. if henri remains a hurricane and makes landfall in new england, it will be the first hurricane to do so in thirty years. in the past few decades, tropical storms and super storms (even the ones where new england only got bands of the storm and never entered the eye) have been enough to devastate the area. speaking from experience, a hurricane is a very different beast, especially in the path of the eye, and henri is predicted to possibly generate tornadoes as well. it’s also happening near a full moon, meaning tides are already high and flooding risks are huge. this is far more serious than many folks are taking it to be.

if you live in the predicted path of henri, please treat this seriously. a hurricane, even a category one, is enough to cause massive amounts of destruction, especially in areas unprepared for such weather conditions like new england. i’m hoping for the best, but i advise all of you to prepare for the worst. have necessary supplies like food, clean water, medication and lanterns stocked and ready, charge all electronic devices now, get gas for cars, generators, stoves, etc. beforehand, and do whatever else you can think of. there’s not much time left to prepare, so here’s a checklist for how to be as safe during the storm as possible:

-make sure you, your family, your pets, and anyone else in your household stay in one area, preferably a single room, as a sort of base. this room should have as few non-reinforced doors, windows, or walls as possible. if you are living in a house, do not go in the basement unless necessary (while the walls are likely more reinforced, it will be more easily flooded) but try to also avoid upper floors unless necessary, as branches and trees falling on or into them is a huge risk, not to mention well tornadoes. if you are living in an apartment, try to stay in a room with as few windows as possible, towards the middle of the apartment or wherever would be most stable in an emergency. in both scenarios, i’d advise bathrooms as generally good bases.

-keep the majority of your supplies in this room with you, including food, water and sleeping materials. ideally, you should be able to stay in this room without leaving it for hours at a time.

-pack go-bags, and keep your stuff organized and ready to tranport. if things get really dire, you will want everything easily moveable, even if you aren’t leaving the house: moving upstairs if your home begins to flood is far easier and safer if you can grab everything in one go instead of having to pack it all up.

-keep valuables in plastic bags. if you’re especially worried, use more than one bag and air-tight containers. make sure they’re still easily transportable, though, and have them packed up at all times. if possible, do this with electronic devices early on: you will not want your phone to die if you lose power, so you should not be using it for any reason but an emergency until you have a guaranteed way to charge it again.

-have an evacuation/escape plan. if things get bad, know where you’re going and how to get there. make sure all paths to your home’s exits are completely clear of obstacles. monitor your state’s policies on the matter of evacuation. if you’re told to evacuate, even if it is beautiful and sunny outside and seems completely fine, do so immediately. if you have to take a car and your tires are worn or not good for driving on slick surfaces, see if you can change them or get another vehicle beforehand. new yorkers and other city dwellers, do not use the subway or other below-ground transport under any circumstances until you know for certain they are completely safe or unless you have absolutely no choice in the matter. however, you should be aiming to avoid moving from your home after the storm starts until it ends: travel is extremely dangerous during hurricanes, and you want to stay in one place for as long as it is possible.

-have money withdrawn from your bank in cash, and keep it on you. make sure your important documents (passports, id, social security card, licenses) are all accessible and safe as well.

-make sure you are able to eat and drink and are doing so. if you will not have safe access to a stove during the storms, make sure you have food with you that does not require such preparation. you should also always have water, medication, and other necessary survival items with you whenever possible.

-if you have a car, make sure it’s not under any branches or structures that could fall on it during the storm. also, try and ensure it is on stable ground and is steady in place even when not braked. if you have immediate, obvious evidence to support the belief that your car could be moved or damaged during the storm, it is not in a safe space. if it is in a garage, ensure it is fully closed up and that the path to it is clear and, if you must enter the garage, try to use side doors or the like.

-do not go out in the storm, even if you think it is abating or gone, until you have full confirmation that it is. if you end up in the path of the eye, remember that the eyewall is a circle: the relative calm in the eye is a prelude to a second round of terrible winds. in your place, i would genuinely not risk going outside until at least 1-3 hours of little to no rain and wind had occurred on Monday (as many predictions expect the storm to last until Monday morning). staying inside is almost always safest.

-tornadoes in hurricanes are dangerous and unpredictable. if you suspect one to be nearby or passing overhead, stay away from all windows and outer doors and walls, and try to hunker down.

-if any property of yours is damaged outside, even if it is your car or house, do not go outside to deal with it until the storm is over unless that damage actively threatens your safety. if your chimney is blown off but no water is entering your fireplace and your roof seems intact, stay inside: however, if a tree breaks through a window, wall or roof and allows wind and rain to enter, address it immediately, although try to do so from inside when possible.

-use ‘oxygen mask on an airplane’ logic. your own safety needs to be your first priority, and then that of your housemates, and then that of anyone else. you are in pure survival mode, and odds are that playing at heroism or martyrism will not only actively endanger you but those around you as well.

-bring a book, a sketchbook, cards, or other forms of entertainment into your base: you’re gonna be waiting out this storm for a while. i’d advise not trying to sleep through the worst parts of the storm unless you have someone on watch, though: you do not want to be caught unawares by flooding or damages. i would also not advise using electronic devices that you may need in an emergency for entertainment (which includes anything that could be used to contact emergency services, even ipads or the like) although things like cd players are viable options. if you have a radio, use it to monitor alerts, and only use it for entertainment if you can be absolutely positive that you can recharge it (via batteries, for example).

if anyone has anything else, please add it. to sum this all up, though:

don’t take risks, be smart, and be safe. you can do this. i believe in you.

[haikyooot]

What Makes A Mother

Setsuko wasn't afraid of the years of hardship, because she had Keisuke. And Keisuke was her treasure.

A story of Baji's mother going through grief and the past of this mother-son pair.

WC: 7.6k Genre/Warnings/Tags: Heavy angst, Hurt/Comfort, Nonlinear storytelling, Death, Mother-Son/Parent-Child relation, Grief/Mourning, Single Motherhood, Mentions of domestic violence, Kazutora’s abusive past, brief scene of pregnancy/childbirth

AN: Something quite different than what I normally write. But the plot and scenes have been weighing on my mind so much, I felt compelled. And with that...this blog officially becomes multifandom lol. 

Setsuko was a proud woman. She lived her life according to her principles, holding all that she treasured close to her heart. At the center of all of her affections was her son, Baji Keisuke. She knew from the moment she had walked out the door, a small bundle tied to her bosom, that she would do everything to protect him, raise him, love him.

Baji didn't deserve a father like that man, nor could she bear to live under the same roof as such a husband. Setsuko was convinced that she was all that Baji would need. With each step she took leaving that dreadful place, the violent shouts impaling her from behind became quieter and quieter. She wasn't afraid of the years of hardship, because she had Keisuke. And Keisuke was her treasure.

--

Setsuko rolled her neck and massaged the small of her back. There were still so many rooms left to clean on this floor. She rolled the grey cart and passed a Do not Disturb sign until she arrived at the next room. After a few knocks to ensure the guests weren't in, she swiped open the door and got to work by stripping the bedding first. The trash cans were emptied, surfaces were dusted, and she was halfway through wiping the bathroom counter when her phone rang. Setsuko let the ringtone play out for just a moment, while she removed one of her gloves.

"Hello. This is Baji speaking."

"Hello, this is Tokyo Metropolitan Hiroo Hospital. Are you Baji Keisuke's mother?"

"Yes, I'm his mother. Is something wrong? Is my son okay?"

Setsuko gripped the cell phone tightly and swallowed. She looked at herself in the mirror while she listened to the operator on the other end. The woman in the mirror didn't look like Setsuko at all. At least, the person who stared back seemed so lifeless and broken, her expression was tight and grim. After the phone call, Setsuko walked out of the half-cleaned room and found her manager to be excused.

The early winter wind whipped onto her face, while she tapped her feet waiting for the bus. Setsuko found herself unable to think or concentrate on anything at all, solely on auto-pilot to get to the hospital destination. When she found a plastic seat in the corner of the bus and sat down, the bus lurching ahead in short bursts, she accidentally let her mind wander just momentarily. The bus passed by an elementary school, where the children in their small uniforms and tiny bags happily walked with their mothers and fathers.

Setsuko would never wish ill on another person, much less a child. But she hoped, prayed that when she got to the hospital, whoever, whatever she would be presented with, had nothing to do with her Keisuke. Perhaps he got into a fight and someone took his id. Maybe there was another Baji Keisuke in the system and the staff dialed the wrong number. There were countless scenarios that played through Setsuko's mind. There was only one, that she did not dare to think about. She would not, could not, suggest that thought.

--

"Ah, Setsuko! It's already 8 in the evening, don't you still need to get home?"

Setsuko tucked her hair under the headband and bowed frantically. "Yes! I'm sorry, my son...I'm so sorry!"

"Don't worry, just go."

She quickly stripped in the locker room, pulling on the sweater that was patched at the elbows, and ran out the backdoor, hoping to catch the bus in time.

"Please! Wait!" she called desperately, but the bus already began to pull away into the blinking traffic.

By the time Setsuko arrived at the center, she began another round of apologies. The daycare worker huffed and told Setsuko that this was her final warning; one more time and they would refuse to look after Baji.

"Mom! Let's go." Baji buried his face into his mother's skirt, pressing his face into the familiar scent. He took her hand and dragged her away from the hellish place. He hated the daycare, where the workers looked at him with disdain arguing who would stay late to wait with him. He hated this place, where the other kids made fun of him and other parents pitied him. Baji held onto his mother's warm, calloused hands. He pretended not to look when his mother shoved a few crumpled bills into the daycare worker's hands, but he couldn't tune out his mother's apologies. How dare they? What was wrong with just Mom?

While mother and son walked home, Baji held onto his mother's hands tightly. He wanted to make her proud, make her smile, and one day, he was going to make sure she didn't have to apologize to anyone.

"Keisuke? What are you thinking about?" Setsuko asked, swinging the arm holding onto her son.

She smiled when she saw his little fangs glistening under the streetlamps, his big eyes waning into crescents.

Baji's grin grew wider, childish laughter chiming. "How much I love mom!"

Setsuko laughed happily with him. "And I love Keisuke so, so much too!"

--

The air conditioner inside the hospital felt colder than the wind outside. Setsuko wove her way between patients and staff to rush towards the help desk in the emergency room. The young woman greeted her and calmly asked for some info. A quick search in the system soon had her brows furrow; she quickly pressed a quick-dial before she turned back towards Setsuko.

The sound of a stretcher rolling across the room screeched. Hurried footsteps and assertive orders sounded throughout the room as the emergency responders wheeled the patient away. A physician cleared their throat and led Setsuko away from the lobby. Setsuko followed the physician, soon joined by a nurse, down the hall opposite of the emergency room.

They led her into the small office, where the nurse invited Setsuko to sit down on one of the chairs. Once seated, the physician got straight to the point.

"I'm afraid we're here to break bad news. Baji has died."

Silence flooded the room while Setsuko blankly stared at the two medical professionals. Her thoughts were delayed and slow. It felt as though hours had passed when she finally croaked out, "Keisuke?"

"He had been badly wounded when the ambulance brought him here. By the time he arrived in the emergency room, it was too late. He was already gone."

The nurse waited for Setsuko's nod before gently continuing, "We have him..."

Words began to jumble and mix together. It was a nightmare that Setsuko couldn't wake from, even after digging her nails into her forearms with all the strength she could muster in her current state.

Afterward, Setsuko asked to see her son. The nurse helped her up to her feet and guided her down the clinical hallways. The temperature dropped exponentially while Setsuko felt her body growing heavier and heavier. But she had to see him, with her own eyes. She couldn't accept anything otherwise. Setsuko dragged her feet one in front of another until she was guided into a private room at the hospital morgue.

--

Setsuko ran out of the apartment, wandering around the dark streets in her house slippers and apron.

"Keisuke! Keisuke!" she called out, making a frantic turn around a corner and continued her search. "I'm sorry, baby, I'm so sorry. Don't scare me, please, okay? Keisuke?"

It was never her intention to lash out at the young boy. She knew that what she did was unacceptable and wrong, no matter how stressed she was. None of her burdens seemed to matter when her baby was missing; losing her job today seemed trivial, the eviction notice she received was only a piece of paper, and the debt collectors sounded harmless.

Setsuko darted past the junkyard and circled around the surrounding parks twice, desperately calling for her son. She finally found him on the base steps of a shrine, kicking a pebble between his two tiny feet. The delicate skin around his eyes was rubbed red and raw.

"Thank goodness, oh thank goodness I found you," Setsuko exclaimed, quickly running over to check Baji for injuries. She knelt down in front of her son after seeing that he was fine and finally broke down. "I'm sorry for yelling at you, Keisuke. I was wrong, Mommy shouldn't have shouted at you. You didn't do anything wrong, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

Baji felt his nose prickle and tears puddle in his eyes again. He hated to see his mother cry, couldn't bear to see her hurt. He threw his short arms around her neck and fell into her embrace. He ran his fingers through her mother's hair, which he had always thought were lovely. "Don't cry, Mom. Don't cry, Keisuke's not mad."

After mother and son dried their tears, tired smiles returning to their faces, they made a slow walk up the steps of the shrine. They tossed a coin into the well and together, they prayed.

For happiness, for safety, for each other.

--

The bodily form was covered by a sheet of white cloth. The length matched exactly. The nurse had already warned her of some of the physical injuries and lacerations that would be on his body. Setsuko prepared herself when the sheet was drawn down. She saw his long black hair spread out on the cold steel around his relaxed expression.

The room was left for Setsuko and Baji. Setsuko took in every little detail on his greying face, void of any flush of life. Cuts marked his skin, and she couldn't dare reach for his head where the doctor notified her was also struck with a blunt object at some point. So many injuries. Setsuko couldn't even begin to count them all. She clamped a hand tightly over her mouth while she murmured, "Keisuke, I'm sorry. Mommy's late again. How could you....how could you?"

Setsuko's hands trembled as they hovered over Keisuke's abdomen. Her whole body shook violently as her hands balled into a tight fist. "You. How could you even..." Stab? Knife? How could he do that to himself? "My son, my son. Did you even think of your poor mother! Ah?!"

How much resolve would it take for a person to drive a blade into their flesh with no hesitation? How much pain he must've been in. Setsuko crumbled down onto the cold tiles, shoving away the nurse who stepped into the room to help her.

"Keisuke! Keisuke!" her wails came out choked and hoarse, echoing down the hall until they were swallowed by the walls. Setsuko cried until she was dizzy and later found herself covered by a hospital blanket. Setsuko found herself alone.

--

Setsuko couldn't believe her good fortune after what she had thought was the worst-case scenario. She was nearly at her wit's end before she learned of the opening of an apartment near Shibuya. Although the neighborhood was old and run-down, it was relatively peaceful and quiet. There were schools nearby, and most of all, the rent was incredibly cheap...almost too cheap. One of the agents quietly told Setsuko, against their manager's instructions to hide the information, that the reason for this bargain was due to noise complaints about a particular neighbor and the rumors spread that it was a family of gangsters.

She visited the area one day after work, Baji in tow. She asked him to look at the surroundings carefully and to tell her if this was a place he wanted to live in. Baji just laughed and said, “Anywhere is fine because I have Mom!”

What a good son, Setsuko thought to herself, giving Baji’s hand a gentle squeeze. Even if she had nothing left to her name, she was proud to have a son like Keisuke. To both of their delight, the neighborhood felt perfect. And the neighbors that they were warned about? The Sano family couldn’t have been kinder and more welcoming.

Baji was immediately drawn into the Sano family’s dojo and watched  Mikey and Shinichiro practice their katas across the wooden floor. Grandpa Sano invited Setsuko and Baji for dinner, letting mother and son join his grandsons at the table, even though Setsuko told him nothing was finalized yet.

The next day, Setsuko signed the papers for the lease. A week after, Setsuko found a new job as a cleaning worker at a new hotel in Marunouchi, the financial district of Tokyo. Although far away, the pay was much more generous than other jobs Setsuko had.

--

Setsuko wondered why there was so much paperwork involved with the death. The ink on the paper blurred together and the empathetic words from the physicians, hospital staff and funeral workers were warbled, even at her best attempt to concentrate.

The funeral directors discussed options with her, comparing services and costs. They were patient while Setsuko flipped through the pages with pictures of examples as though it were a catalog detailing the season’s most sought-after funeral events. The cost didn’t matter; they were just numbers printed on a page. She had the money now.

Setsuko had a special account she carefully stowed money into for Baji’s future. It was a bankbook she hid in a special drawer that she never told Baji about. She didn’t plan to until he became an adult, and she could proudly give him the funds for him to become completely independent. Regardless of how touching the whole gesture was, they were all empty dreams.

Baji’s death was complex and entangled with a bigger gang fight where police had also made a number of arrests. She was also tasked to come into the station for a full briefing of the events that had occurred. They spoke of the process that would follow afterward and presented Setsuko with another stack of papers. Setsuko flipped through the sheets before looking the officer in the eye.

“Officer, when can I go home?”

--

Setsuko sat down in the hotel staff break room. She felt tired, weak, and short-breathed. Last week, she had thought her world was going to crash down. The manager called her aside and told her that the police station was calling for her regarding Baji. She asked to be excused and quickly ran off to the station. She couldn’t understand the situation of how her son could have possibly been involved with theft and murder.

Theft. Murder. And Sano Shinichiro’s no less. The crimes seemed too elaborate and heavy to be related to the young boy, with a striped shirt, who was sobbing in the plastic chair.

Parenting books taught about how best to perform infant exercises, what foods to focus on, and how to deal with picky eaters. None of them wrote about how a single mother should handle her son’s involvement with juvenile crime. She didn’t even know of the juvenile organizations or laws until last week.

Near the end of the break, a few fellow coworkers checked in on Setsuko.

“It’ll be alright, Keisuke’s mother. Let me tell you, my son was in a gang too when he was in middle school. That rascal was crazy! I had to whoop his ass almost every night, and he still dared to run off on his bike. Should’ve broken the wheels off!”

“Oh my!” another chimed in.

Setsuko wondered if she was too soft on Baji, whether she should’ve been a lot firmer in setting expectations and ground rules. Maybe she never should’ve let Baji get that bike of his. She only agreed after he begged and begged, and even dragged Shinichiro to vouch that he would learn how to operate the bike safely.

“Keisuke’s mom,” the first co-worker called out. “Setsuko?”

Setsuko returned back to reality. “Yes?”

“Don’t you even worry. He didn’t do anything super serious or anything. Boys just get into trouble at this age, it’s how they’ll become men! Look at my son, he’s doing just fine now. He’s even getting married in a few months!”

“Yea, Setsuko. Keisuke’s a good kid. He’ll be alright. You’re just too kind and worry too much.”

“I hope so…”

“And look at the time, let’s hurry back before the manager scolds us!”

While cleaning one of the master suites, Setsuko thought of Kazutora, the other boy involved with the case. She learned that even after three days of being detained at the station, his parents never showed up to pick him up. Coupled with Kazutora continuously saying that he was responsible for everything, he was soon sent to juvenile detention.

--

Setsuko remembered the night Baji was born very clearly. Her water had broken while she was cooking in the kitchen. Her then-husband couldn't be reached at all. Setsuko laid on the couch and counted the durations between each painful wave while calming her breathing down and cradling her belly.

"Keisuke, are we going to meet soon?"

She had hissed in pain through her excitement while she had picked up the hospital bag that was already packed. She checked in at the very last moment right before the excruciating pressure on her lower back was too much to bear. Labor took nearly eight hours, stretching into the next day, but fatigue completely washed away when she later heard his loud cry echo in the delivery room.

Baji's cry rang so loud and clear, lighting up Setsuko's heart in a moment. The squirming little bundle the nurse placed onto her chest felt magical. Setsuko caressed his wrinkly nose with her pinky, admiring the dark hair curled on top of his small head.

"Keisuke," she had softly called out, her voice light and airy. "Welcome to the world, Keisuke."

The funeral hall was solemn as guests dressed in black followed the organized line to pay respects to the Baji family. Setsuko lifted her head from another bow thanking the guest for coming today. She took a deep breath, smelling the faint scent from the flowers that laid around Baji's portrait and casket.

Mikey stopped in front of Baji's photo for a long time. He stood frozen in the spot, expression focused and tense. Draken followed closely with him and the two knelt down in front of Setsuko. Their foreheads touched the floor in a quiet thud.

"I'm deeply sorry," Mikey spoke quietly and waited for Setsuko's response.

Setsuko sighed and reached out to encourage the boy to sit up. "Thank you for coming today." She paused for a moment before mentioning, "Keisuke...always spoke highly of you two. Thank you for being there for him..." When I couldn't. Mikey and Draken bowed again once more before they took their leave and Setsuko turned her attention to the next guest. She felt her knees void of feeling by the end. Her lower back fiercely ached. That night she kept vigil with her son, passing through the night until it was the third of November.

--

Baji stuffed his hands in his pocket and walked half a step ahead of his mom. He didn't want her to see his bruises or the band-aid patched on his forehead from where someone threw a stone at him. His uniform was torn too, the second one that would be out of commission this month.

When they arrived home, it was already very late in the evening. Baji made a beeline to the bathroom to wash up while Setsuko went to fix a quick dinner in the kitchen. The fridge was nearly empty and Setsuko was too exhausted, mentally and physically, to whip up anything from scratch. She filled the kettle and flipped the switch before collapsing into one of the dining chairs to wait for the water to boil.

Baji stepped foot into the kitchen, stomach growling after he smelled the savory scent of instant yakisoba. He watched his mother finish mixing the sauce and put the styrofoam tray down in front of him, before sitting down in front of him with a tray of her own. The silence felt so uncomfortable.

“You,” he began, unsure of how to continue. He thought back to the strange, livid woman at the principal’s office today. “Mom, you scared me.”

“Did I?” She paused for a brief moment. “I don’t like violence. I don’t like my son fighting others, breaking their noses, or threatening to ‘bash their heads in'. I didn’t allow you to learn karate at the Sano dojo to be violent, but…”

Setsuko reached out over the table to hold her son’s scraped hand. “But I’m also proud of you too. Thank you for defending me today, Keisuke.”

“I wasn’t about to let those assholes say that sort of shit about you,” Baji huffed, returning to his usual demeanor.

Setsuko didn’t bother chiding him about his vocabulary this time. She knew that Baji only took down those four upperclassmen who had been bothering him about his situation growing up in a single-parent household. It wasn’t new to Setsuko or Baji anymore.Teachers had side-eyed and called her in before because Baji’s lunchboxes were what they had deemed “inappropriate” and “inadequate”.

She already did her best and she knew Baji didn’t have it easy either. But she was the mother and he was the child. It was her responsibility to stand up for her son in front of the school and all who tried to demean him.

--

The screech of the cremation gates closing was jarring. A funeral worker helped Setsuko to a seat outside while the flames inside the box transformed her son. Setsuko wondered if the flames were painful if the space was cramped. She couldn't move past any thought other than, my child, my child, my child.

Ten whole months of pregnancy, nearly fifteen years of life. What was the magnitude of a mother's devotion or the weight of a boy's life? Setsuko carefully picked the pieces of Baji's bones from the ashes. Each piece was treated with all the care she could muster, each time she placed them into the urn, she felt a part of herself breaking away along with it. It had been many, many years since she could carry her son in her arms.

Even as a young boy, Baji never pestered his mother for piggyback rides or asked to be carried. He seemed to already know the amount of weight on Setsuko's shoulders. But the box that carried her son was so light. Setsuko couldn't believe that was all that remained of her son, right between her palms.

What went on in the mind of a mother who had to bury her son? Setsuko felt her balance nearly topple over until a hand steadied her. She saw from her peripheral that it was Mikey. He didn't let go and supported Setsuko standing while they watched the urn lower into the ground. Once the gravesite was cleaned, Setsuko wondered who she was now. After all, a wife whose husband passed away was a widow. Society called the children who lost their parents orphans. The characters Baji Family Grave stared back at Setsuko, as if demanding an answer to the question, what about a mother whose child had crossed over the Sanzu River?

--

“Mom! Please!” Baji yelled, sliding himself between his mother and her broom, and his beloved bike. The rearview mirror was already shattered on the ground.

“Step aside!” Setsuko roared. “I’m done with this behavior now! I can’t believe you. Flunked the grade?! What have you even been doing!”

It was all because of the bike, Setsuko concluded, and Baji’s “friends”. After all of the hours, she put into work, late nights slaving away scrubbing the grout between tiles that cost more than her income, the meals she skipped to save more money...everything she did and sacrificed to support this fragile household?

“Baji! Keisuke!”

“Mom!” Baji remained in the same spot. “If you’re angry, just hit me. This bike...this bike is really precious to me! Shinichiro worked on it together with me!”

Setsuko gritted her teeth. Fury washed her vision with rage. Just hit, hit him, hit the ungrateful son. She gripped the broom in her hand tightly until her knuckles turned white. But she felt her resolve slip at the sight of her son’s pained expression.

“I’m disappointed in you Keisuke…” she weakly let out before throwing the broom off to the side and heading back into the apartment.

Baji was prepared for physical pain. He was used to scuffles, kicks, and punches. He was ready for whatever his mother was going to beat him with. But instead, it was her soft, defeated voice, her quiet departure, that felt the most torturous.

After he cleaned up the broken glass, Baji also went back in. He was on his way to his room when he heard a sniffle. Baji stood outside his mother’s room, head hanging low, and listened to her mumble to herself about everything she thought she did wrong. How she felt guilty for putting so much pressure on him, how she berated herself for being unable to help him with his studies. Baji bit his lip and went to his room. He hopped under the blankets and felt his own guilt eat away at himself.

A few hours later, Setsuko wiped her eyes and quietly slid open Baji’s door. She saw the huddled form on the bed with covers thrown to a corner and carefully pulled the blankets until they covered Baji’s shoulders. Crouching down next to him, she cleared the hair over his face and whispered a faint sorry. Setsuko sighed and got up. After picking up a few dirty clothes that were on the floor, she exited the room.

When he heard the door close, Baji opened his eyes and tossed the blanket aside again. It was really too hot to be using that thing. But he wanted to cry, he wanted to do so much for his mother. Baji felt around for a random pencil and scribbled on the underside of the shelves that was the roof of his bed nook. I will never flunk a grade ever again. I will study hard and make my mom proud. -Baji Keisuke.

--

The day of the trial was very stormy. The buses ran on a slight delay as roads were wet and slick. Setsuko smoothed out her suit attire and listened to an accompanying officer give their final remarks about how the proceedings would occur. She followed their lead up the courthouse stairs, avoiding any microphones or calls for attention shoved by journalists.

"Baji, please, a word?"

"Is it true that Baji was an important leader in a gang?"

"Were you aware that your son was a gangster?"

"Can you comment on how your failed marriage resulted in Baji deviating from the moral path?"

"Statistics show that 40% of youth delinquents come from single-mother households, can you comment?"

"A word please?"

"Can you comment?"

Anger boiled in her veins as she suddenly turned around to face the journalist crowd. They knew nothing. Short, hurried breaths seethed out between her lips. Flashes compounded and notepads were flipped open, eager to capture the story of a dead, criminal youth's mother. The officer stepped in-between and waved their hands to shoo the crowd. "We're not providing any commentary."

The hall was mostly empty, save for a few familiar faces sitting in the corners. She spotted a few of the Toman boys dispersed around the seats, dressed in the same modest clothing as when they had attended the funeral. Setsuko took a seat near the front, where she wanted to see, up close, what would be the fate of that boy who killed her son.

Then the doors opened. Setsuko saw Kazutora, eyes blank, his hands confined together with metal cuffs. The boy seemed so weightless, easily tugged and pulled by the officers who had their grip on his elbows. The family court decided that he would be tried as an adult, and so they have all gathered today for the trial. All eyes in the room followed Kazutora until he was seated.

Setsuko was quiet throughout the entirety, except for the moments where she had to speak. She limited her words because she had nothing to offer. The efficiency of the law was to make society whole again after the damage had been done. But Setsuko thought that none of it mattered because ultimately, the damage was irreparable. Still, she wanted justice for what happened to her son. She wanted retribution, she wanted them all to suffer the way her son did and feel the same pain that she'd be burdened with every day henceforth.

Kazutora was sentenced to ten years in prison.

--

Baji waited for the bus to arrive at the station. The first few passengers exited the door and went left or right. When Setsuko stepped onto the pavement, she felt a hand lift her bag from her shoulders.

"Thank you, Keisuke."

Baji slung the bag over his shoulder easily and walked next to his mom, turning into the street that would lead to their neighborhood. The streetlamps flickered along the quiet road; most people were already home at this hour.

"Mom?"

"Hm?"

"How do you...endure it all? Put up with all the shit you had to go through?"

Setsuko smiled, thinking back through the time when she flinched under her boss's harsh words or cried while sitting in the empty toilet stall she was supposed to clean, but also remembering seeing Baji's chubby cheeks while he slept soundly next to her, the cold yakisoba left for her on the kitchen counter. She looked at Baji next to her; his baby fat still padded his cheeks but it was slowly beginning to fade away and he was just as tall, maybe even a smidge taller than her now.

"My Keisuke is growing up," she remarked. "Well, we gotta survive somehow right? And I can take it all because of what's most important to me. My treasure." She reached out to tousle his growing hair, letting his growing locks fall through her fingers. "Becoming so handsome now."

"Stop! Ah, you're fucking it up!" Baji scowled and trudged ahead in wide steps.

"Language!" Setsuko called out after him, laughing internally as Baji's quick steps soon slowed down to let her catch up.

"What's for dinner?"

"Just say you want yakisoba again."

"Okay." Baji grinned, fangs peaking out in the corner. He knew it was an expression that his mother couldn't deny. "Mom, I want yakisoba again."

Setsuko snorted and shook her head. "Fine, fine. Yakisoba it is."

"With a fried egg on top."

"Okay, fried egg on top, and extra bonito flakes."

"You're the best."

"Mhm. I know."

--

The door to Baji's room slid open as Setsuko slowly paced in. The room was in the same state as Baji had left it months ago. Setsuko looked around the room, organizers carefully Tetris-ed to maximize the space. There was the half-empty bag of cat food on the desk and the food tray he had bought with his own allowance money.

Meow.

Setsuko heard a quiet scratch at the window and peered over. Two large eyes look at her, tiny teeth flashing in the night. She carefully slid the window open and filled a tray with some food, offering it to the stray cat.

Baji loved cats. He adored animals. Always did. He was a rough boy, but he was loving and gentle. He defended those in need. He put himself at risk for others.

“Do you come here often?” she asked the cat who was nibbling at the food expertly.

The cat paused and looked at her.

“Keisuke’s gone now. I’m his mother...my son’s gone now.”

Meow. The cat licked its nose and stretched before looking around the room. As if it really couldn’t find the boy who would welcome it every night, the cat meowed again and soon left. Setsuko sighed and closed the window.

She took a seat on the nook that was Baji’s bed. She had wanted to redo the room for him, get him a bigger bed to accommodate his growing height. Baji often complained about banging his head when he got up in the mornings and muttered that it was exactly why he "didn't have brain cells".

Setsuko laid down and traced a few pencil doodles marked on the underside of the upper shelves. I will never flunk a grade ever again. I will study hard and make my mom proud. -Baji Keisuke.

Setsuko closed her eyes and tried to sleep, completely exhausted and broken. But the darkness she saw when her eyelids closed would bring the sound of the judge's gavel and the passionate arguments of the lawyers back into her ears. She thought about her feelings when she heard Kazutora’s sentence. There wasn’t any sort of satisfaction at all.

Kazutora was about the same age as her son. He had already suffered an inadequate family life and spent his childhood years in juvenile detention. Baji had told her before too, “Kazutora...he’s in a lot of pain. I know he just needs some help.”

Setsuko blamed herself for not acting sooner. Why she was too sidetracked with work, focused solely on money, money, money under the excuse that everything was for Baji, and did not pay attention to her son’s friendships. Why she, an adult, turned a blind eye to a vulnerable child not once, but twice.

“Keisuke, I’m sorry,” Setsuko sobbed, covering her face with her hands.

She didn’t know how long she cried for or when she fell asleep. But by the time she woke up, the sun was already filtering through Baji’s bedroom.

--

Setsuko worked increasingly long hours at the hotel, often picking up night shifts as well. She reasoned that Baji was more than old enough to take care of himself now and that it would be best if she worked harder now while her health and stamina were still strong. For the past years, the rent at their place had been increasing, along with the general cost of living. Setsuko was determined to keep up with the pace and pull ahead as much as possible.

The wage wouldn’t just pay for rent and necessities; she could afford multiple school uniforms for Baji, and if she were really careful, even save up for his university tuition. Deep down, she knew that Baji wasn’t really cut out for school. She would have to thank the temples for blessing him with a high school diploma. But a mother could hope, and all she could do was try to amass the funds.

Setsuko didn’t worry about Baji getting bullied anymore. Even though she was adamant that he didn’t go around fighting random people, she was a little reassured that his black belt in karate from the Sano dojo would shape him into a fine person. Mental discipline, physical fortitude were all important characteristics.

But Setsuko worried nonetheless. She wondered if Baji had good friends, close friends. The time she spent away from home so often also resulted in a rift between mother and son. He stopped telling her a lot of what was going on in his life, frequently shutting the door or coming home late at night unexplained. Setsuko didn’t want the already rare mother-son times to end in shouting matches. She never liked to raise her voice either. So, she simply worried.

Ring.

“Keisuke? Yes?” Setsuko said into the microphone after checking the caller id. She heard some cats in the background. “Are you at home?”

“Yea, Chifuyu’s over.”

Ah, Setsuko knew Chifuyu, a very polite boy. He hung out with Baji quite often.

“Ma, we’re out of Peyang again. Can you buy some more later?”

A coworker interrupted in the background. “Oi, Setsuko! We need to clean conference room 3.”

Setsuko covered the microphone and called back, “Yes! I’ll be right there!” Then she pressed the cell phone against her ear and quickly told Baji, “Okay, okay, I’ll bring some back. Don’t eat too much of that stuff too okay. I have to go now.”

“Cool.” Then Baji ended the call before Setsuko could say anything more.

She sighed and returned to pushing the cleaning cart down the winding hallway. The tall, full-length glass windows gave her a full view of the most contemporary district in Tokyo. Everything was changing so quickly, technology transformed so much. It was a good idea to purchase that mobile phone for Baji. Even though phone calls were short and expensive, hearing his voice for just a while here and there reassured her.

--

Setsuko walked down the rows of the cemetery. It’s been many months since Baji’s death and Kazutora’s trial. She saw a figure crouched over Baji’s grave. Chifuyu swallowed the last bite of noodles and placed the styrofoam tray on the stone altar.

"This half...Baji, is for you," he whispered. Chifuyu noticed the presence next to him and turned around, shoulders tensing after seeing who it was. He scrambled up to greet Setsuko. "I'm sorry, I'll get going-"

"No worries, sit with me for a bit. Keisuke would hate me if you had to leave so soon."

Chifuyu nodded and sat down after Setsuko set down a bouquet of flowers and took a seat herself. Setsuko looked at the tray of noodles and let the corners of her dried lips tilt upwards. "Eat slowly, Keisuke. Don't choke."

Chifuyu observed Setsuko’s empty-looking frame. Her clothes seemed to weigh her down. He wondered if she had been sleeping at all, the dark shadows under her eyes, and the worried frown she wore was ingrained on her forehead and brow

“I must look dreadful,” Setsuko commented.

“No!” Chifuyu blurted out, a little embarrassed for being caught staring. “You...seem tired.” What would Baji think, if his mother looked as though she was waiting for her lifespan to burn?

“I’m trying to forgive him...Kazutora. Forgive everyone and my unfilial son who left his mother behind.” She picked up the tray with the cold noodles and took a bite of Baji’s half. “I’ll pick up the pieces he left behind...the bitterness, the regrets...I swallowed them all.”

Chifuyu sat in silence next to Setsuko, offering his presence to the grieving woman. After Baji’s death, he sat in his room and thought about the why and how. Mikey had also come up to him and they just talked about Baji, about Kazutora, the childhood that seemed so far away, and the future that felt bleak.

“Thank you Chifuyu.”

Chifuyu turned his head aside. Please don’t thank me, he wanted to say. Not said in the same way Baji did. “I owe him so much.

"Chifuyu...could you tell me? Did he say anything else?"

"Baji...he was smiling." Chifuyu fondly remembered. "He said..."

Toman. They are my treasures.

"Treasures,” Setsuko repeated slowly, absorbing every syllable. “Treasures…”

--

Setsuko tore off the October 30th page of the wall calendar before she slipped on her shoes at the front door.

“Mom, you’re leaving?” Baji asked, coming down the hall. “I thought you finally got your schedule adjusted.”

“If I go early, I can come home early, right? Besides—”

Baji wrapped his arms around his mother, resting the weight of his head on her shoulders.

“Keisuke?” she asked, patting his back gently. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing...just wanna hug you. Didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Ah, take a nap later then.” Setsuko brushed her fingers through his hair, easily detangling the morning bed hair. “I have to get going, Keisuke, or I’ll miss the bus.”

Baji didn’t let go. “Mom?”

“Yea?”

“Thanks for everything...I know you endured a lot for me.”A lot of memories flashed in Baji’s mind, all the times he wanted to punch himself after because he knew he messed up. “I get into a lot of trouble, fight in the streets, get called into the principal’s office all the time...I’m not really good with books and—”

Setsuko squeezed her son tightly. “Keisuke, is there something you’re not telling me? You know, you can tell me anything right?”

Baji gently broke the hug. “Nah, I just saw you in the doorway and thought, ‘Wow, that’s my mom. Most beautiful woman ever and I’m blessed with her looks.’”

Setsuko snorted and shook her head, running a hand through her long dark locks where a few silver strands were beginning to appear. “Okay, okay. Enough with the flattery. I’ll be going now, okay?” She pushed open the front door.

“Mom?”

“What now?”

Setsuko turned around and saw Baji smiling widely, showing off the little fangs that she found adorable. “I want fresh homemade yakisoba.”

Setsuko took half a step out of the apartment. “Fried egg on top?”

“Fried egg on top.”

“With extra bonito flakes,” she finished with a matching smile. “Got it, got it. Instant, street stall, homemade... You never get sick of yakisoba, do you? Call if you need anything okay?”

“Mhm , bye Mom. Love you.”

Setsuko gave Baji a little wave. “Love you too Keisuke. I’ll be off now.”

--

"There's someone waiting for you in the front."

Kazutora nodded thanks and slung the knapsack over his shoulder. He gave the gates one final glance before following the warden out. Stepping into society again felt intimidating and new. The air seemed different, the sounds were busier. Ten years changed him, but also all of Tokyo — no, the world.

Kazutora wondered who could be waiting for him at the front. Was it Mikey? Draken? Perhaps Chifuyu? Kazutora couldn't have ever imagined that the person welcoming him into freedom would be her, Setsuko, Baji Keisuke's mother. She looked much older than he had remembered, deep sets of wrinkles embedded in her face. The folds of her eyelids began to sink lower and her hair was peppered white.

Setsuko's first look at Kazutora was one of surprise. The boy, the man, was very different from when she had last seen him. He wore a gentle expression on his face, and his eyes held the warmest light. Setsuko immediately noticed Kazutora's hair, long locks that swept past his shoulder, in very much the same way Keisuke's did. She smiled, nervousness washing away as she took a few steps towards him.

Setsuko and Kazutora chatted quietly, exchanging simple pleasantries. She asked him if he had anything he wanted to eat in particular, but instead, Kazutora asked to visit Baji. He quickly apologized, suggesting if that were something that would make her uncomfortable, he would respect her wishes and stay away. Guilt burdened Kazutora's shoulder for ten years as the vestiges of the dead and the past haunted him. Even after working through the knots, sessions after sessions, Kazutora felt vulnerable.

Rather than turning him down as Kazutora had expected, Setsuko nodded. "Keisuke would love that very much. Let's go together."

Visiting Baji’s grave together was peaceful. For Setsuko, almost cathartic. Ten years of a journey wandering and feeling lost seemed to have finally arrived at an ending point with Kazutora’s release.

"Thank you."

Setsuko turned towards Kazutora and quietly asked, "What for? I didn't speak up then, nor was I able to lessen your sentence. These years you had to endure alone...it mustn't have been easy."

"I deserved those years. Besides," Kazutora smiled, "I don't think it was all bad. I received a lot of care and help, finally confronted my past and my feelings to make sense of what happened. And the package during the holiday...they must be from you, right?"

Setsuko surveyed his expression before acknowledging a small nod. "Forgive me, I couldn't bring myself to meet you in person. I didn't know what you liked or disliked..."

Kazutora shook his head. “No, I loved it very much. It felt...nice to receive something like that from someone.”

“I’m glad.” Setsuko stood up and began to say her farewell to the stone tablet. “Keisuke, I’ll visit you soon, okay?”

Kazutora also stood up, brushing off some of the dust on his pants. He decided he had to seize this moment, or else there would be no next chance. “Um..excuse me…”

“Yes?”

Kazutora’s gaze met with Setsuko. "If you'll allow me, may I come visit you often? Baji loved and looked up to you so much. I...I want to help him take care of his mother. In his stead."

He couldn’t make out the meaning behind Setsuko’s surprised expression. Her eyes looked over towards Baji’s tomb and flitted back to him. Then she smiled and held her arms slightly open. "May I?"

Kazutora nodded and soon felt himself pulled into a tight embrace that felt safe and maternal. He hugged back.

"Thank you. Thank you for thinking about Keisuke and thinking about me, "Setsuko whispered. She patted his upper back gently. "But you don't have to live in his stead. Kazutora, you're free now to find your own path. I'll happily be there for you in any way I can. As a mother figure or just a friend. I ask that you'll find peace and happiness." This was what Keisuke would have wanted for everyone. This was also her dream for Keisuke’s friends. With Kazutora’s blessings, Setsuko felt her own burdens finally lifted off of her heart and shoulders.

In the years after Baji's passing, she constantly remained in a tense and difficult state, but now, the cathartic feeling of freedom also washed over her. She was Setsuko, always Setsuko. And she was Keisuke’s mother, always would be his mother. That was never going to change. Until the day when mother and son would reunite, Setsuko would continue to proudly live her life.

Kazutora and Setsuko took their time to walk out of the cemetery, quietly strolling in the garden continuing their conversations. The clouds in the sky cleared, making way for the sun's rays to shine through. A warm glow cast itself over the rows upon rows of tablets, lighting up Baji's tombstone, the polished stone glinting.

[marauder-exe]

Minecraft Bed- Wilbur Soot x reader

Word count: 1.3k

A/n: hhh im in love with this man. Requests are open for mcyts! also if anyone has any writing tips, hit up my inbox

"Can I put my Minecraft bed next to yours?" Wilbur asked, shift-clicking in the middle of the room. You were quiet for a moment. "No" You responded, hitting him until his screen lit up red. He let out a groan. "All my stuffffff" You let out a huge laugh as you fell back on his bed, clutching your stomach. He turned around in his chair and gave you a deadpanned look. This causes you to laugh even harder, eyes watering. He turned back to his screen and hit the respawn button. He quickly rushed over to you while you were occupied with laughing your arse off, and whacked you until your screen lit red. He immediately heard your laughing stop, turning around, he already anticipated the death glare you were giving him. He was right. It was his turn to burst out into laughter. You pulled a pouty face and marched over to Will's desk, face close to the microphone. "Wilbur Soot is a big fat snake" You spoke to the suspiciously quiet discord call. Everyone burst into laughter as you marched back over to your bed, still pouting.

Will stretched his arms and legs in his chair and let out a sigh. You recognised the all too familiar feeling of body stiffness from playing games too much. He got up from his chair, alerting the call that he was getting a drink and going to the bathroom before muting his mic. You decided to use this time and mute your mic and stretch your aching limbs properly. "You want anything, Pouty arse?" he questioned just before he left the room. You smiled warmly and asked for a cup of Tea. Of course, he accepted "Anything for you", with that he left the room. You returned to your original position, resuming whatever you were doing on Minecraft. About 5 minutes of idle chatter passed before Tommy spoke up. "Y/N?" The young man asked. Your ears perked up as you looked towards Tommy in the game. "Wheres your boyfriend? We need him for a quest" He asked shamelessly. Your heart rate quickened at the thought of Wilbur being your boyfriend. She searched her mind for some kind of response. "1. He's not my boyfriend. 2. I think he's still making my tea" You responded, quickly sprinting away from his character and going silent. " Have you told him that?" He questioned slyly. You turned your head, confused at his words. "What do you mean?" You asked genuinely, but as if right on cue, Wilbur walked in holding your tea, some snacks, a blanket and his own bottle of water. You had offhandedly mentioned you were cold or hungry at some point during the game. As if it were a movie, all the puzzle pieces clicked in your head. You gawked at Wilbur as he gave you a confused look, holding out your cup of tea for you to take. It took you a good few seconds to wipe the disbelief off your face. Wilbur liked you, that's what Tommy was hinting at. You took the tea from his hand and tried to make your best 'i am not freaking out right now' face, although you weren't sure how well it was working. Wilbur returned awkwardly to  Minecraft. You looked over to ensure he was still playing and quickly switched into the discord call. Tommy was looking at you expectantly, your hands full of the tea, snacks, and blanket Will had brought you. You pulled an overexaggerated shocked face, although you weren't actually being dramatic, you really were shocked. Tommy let out a laugh at your face. You gave a glare to shut him up and signaled to your phone. He nodded, understanding you needed to call him. You and Tommy had been friends for a while so this wasn't out of the ordinary. You hopped from the bed and slowly walked to Wilbur's desk. "Hey" You said softly. "Just going to the bathroom." He smiled warmly, his insides feeling all goey at your soft voice. "Be fast love we have cats to tame!" He said loudly as you laughed. You exited his bedroom and ran to the bathroom just as Tommy's caller ID lit up the screen. "Since when?" You answered, getting straight to the point. "Since always Y/N, you've just always been too blind to see it, that's why I had to do my civil duty and point it out to you. let's be real, this constant pining for each other with no result, it's getting kind of old." You scoffed as you rolled your eyes. "I do not pine for Wilbur Soot" You said adamantly. "Cmon Y/N, you're not fooling anyone, you've had those big love-struck puppy dog eyes for him since you met a year ago. You just haven't realised that he's got 'em too." You sighed as you plonked down on top of the toilet seat. You let out a long groan. "Ughhhhhh, what am I gonna do?" You pleaded into the phone. "Tell. Him." Tommy insisted. You sighed, you knew it had to be done, now or never. You thanked Tommy for helping you realise and ended the call. You sat for a minute, stuck in your own head. Wilbur liked you, he actually liked you. All those sleepless lovesick nights, they were all worth it. You let out a squeal of excitement before you collected your thoughts, and flushed the toilet. You exhaled and walked back to Wilburs room. You had a plan.

"Will! When I was in the bathroom I was wondering if we could make some progress on our server" You said softly, grabbing onto the sleeve of his jumper. He practically melted in his chair at your sweet voice, and he knew he couldn't say no. "Uh, hey guys, Y/N and I are gonna go make some progress on our world before our next video" They all said their goodbyes as you smiled at Wilbur. That smile he had loved for the last year. You skipped over to the bed and loaded up your shared world. You both left the VC as your phone screen dinged with a text from Tommy. Big T: Good luck ;) x You read it and playfully sighed, a smile lighting up your face. Will actually liked you. it was like a dream come true. About 5 minutes into the game, you put your plan into action. "Hey Wilbur, will you come put your Minecraft bed next to mine pleaseee" You whined. Whenever he put them together in a game, it would send butterflies rampant in his stomach. He giggled and responded with a 'sure'. As he was crafting a bed, you crafted a sign and ran upstairs to your Minecraft bed. Next to it, you placed a sign that simply read: 'I like you too <3' You nervously waited to see his character come upstairs. once he did, he saw you sitting on the bed, with a sign where his bed should be. He walked over and read it slowly. As he did, it felt like every bad thing he ever felt had gone away, his insides were practically melting and his heart rate quickened. He swiftly turned around in his chair, disbelief painted on his face, to see you already looking at him. There was a beat of silence. Then another. And another. you started to believe neither of you would say anything. That was up until Will dashed from his chair, quickly walking over to you. You barely had time to stand up before his hand was on your waist and his lips were on yours. You fit together like puzzle pieces, lips moving in sync. Everything you'd ever wanted for the last year, was right here. Wilbur was finally yours, and you were his.