#I don't want to be in this country anymore

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

@dr-reids-fidget-toy#omg I didn’t know that about comic bucky that’s rlly cool

Starting a new post because I have off-topic Thoughts. Comic!Bucky contains fascinating commentary on the Cold War, WWII, and the media representations thereof. MCU!Bucky is (by necessity) pretty watered down. In the Brubaker comics, Bucky isn't brainwashed, at least not in the classic Marvel sense. He's just this guy who believes in the absolute rightness of his country, and has been in combat to support the U.S. since age ~14... and then he gets blown up by a missile, loses his memory, and Department X tells him "his country" is the USSR. So now he's the Winter Soldier. Nothing else about his personality or his politics changes. The Winter Soldier we see in the Brubaker comics is definitely a villain — he kills indiscriminately, kidnaps civilians to get his way, murders Rick Jones out of petty spite. But his personality is basically the same from childhood.

This is Steve remembering Bucky as a kid during WWII:

Brubaker retcons Bucky's role, from "kid sidekick who rushes in first and gets kidnapped, needing Captain America to rescue him," to "kid agent who infiltrates bases first, so that Captain America can follow him." With the memory loss, Bucky goes from slitting throats and setting off bombs for Uncle Sam, to doing it for Mother Russia. He's always been as cold and as willing to kill witnesses as he is as the Winter Soldier. It just never made the news reals.

And that's the other half of his retconned role: being propaganda for other child soldiers (e.g. Toro) who join up in his wake. This is Bucky and Steve watching a Cap and Bucky recruitment newsreel:

As an adult, the real difference isn't that Bucky is Soviet now; it's that he doesn't have Steve holding his leash anymore. To be clear, comic Winter Soldier also isn't free to come and go as he pleases — he's kept in a freezer between missions, he's probably not paid, he's in Department X — but he also has far more agency within the latitude of his orders. He's not dead-eyed and tortured by guilt like we see in the MCU. He goes on side quests to kill other Buckies. He argues constantly with Aleksander Lukin (the comic equivalent of Pierce). He complains about the inconvenience of not just sniping Steve in the head to steal the Tesseract.

Brubaker's point, throughout the comic, is that we have been lied to about World War II being "noble" or "good" or the story of the U.S. saving the day. And that that lie is used to prop up everything from U2 spy planes built with 100x the budget for education, to the Patriot Act nullifying the Fourth Amendment. Because not only is "WWII was a noble war fought without atrocities" nationalistic bullshit, but "Soviets are fundamentally different from us" is too. Bucky's continuity of character reveals both at once. He's a walking Soviet superweapon. Why? Because he was a walking American superweapon first, starting before he was old enough to shave.

Anyway, I get why the MCU had to change his backstory. You have to a) remind the audience who Bucky is, b) show-don't-tell why Steve is sad Bucky is trying to kill him, c) get across the idea that Bucky doesn't want to kill Steve but feels he has to, d) use Bucky to develop Steve's character, and e) set up a way for Bucky to get un-brainwashed. All within the span of ~30 minutes this movie has for this plot, amidst all the other plots. MCU!Bucky plaintively asking Pierce who Steve was, only to get slapped in the face, is sort of like AniTV!Tom constantly pawing at his ear: it quickly gets across that this character isn't acting under his own volition, in a way that minimizes audience confusion.

Plus: it's a Hollywood movie. It wouldn't get funded if it was too critical of the U.S. military. Movies are always, by definition, more conservative than other media because of their need for funding. And the MCU makes a decent effort to incorporate at least some criticism of the U.S., having Zola be involved in Operation Paperclip and having him (while working for the U.S.) order Howard Stark's murder. But a computer ghost reciting dry facts about the CIA recruiting Nazis doesn't have the same gut punch as watching the "good guys" send the literal child to knife his fellow child soldiers during WWII would have had.

[agreeeeeeeeeee]

Hit Me Where It Hurts The Most p.4 | S.B.

feat. Sirius Black x Rowle!reader

SUMMARY: You attend the Lestrange Gala on Rabastan's arm, finally making your family proud. But all things must come to the light, and with time running out, a decision must be made.

CW: MDNI 18+, smut, pure blood ideology, manipulative and abusive families, angst angst angst, protective!Sirius, hurt/comfort, HEA

AN: wow! this is long! but ahhh! can't believe we've reached the final part of the series!! but don't worry, I'm not done with this one quite yet...

series navigation | part one | part two | part three | masterlist

You tried to focus on the book in your lap, but the words were swimming on the page, taking the shape of your argument with Sirius.

He's lying to you.

You don't understand.

Please don't leave.

He'd been so passionate, so single-minded in his desire for you—it scared the shit out of you. His words were pretty, his intentions righteous, but was that enough?

For so long, the story of your life has been drilled into your head. Over and over and over again. A wealthy man's wife, the jewel of his crown, the mother of his children, keeper of the bloodline.

What were you beyond that? Who were you, if not obedient?

The train rolled loudly beneath you, the Scottish country side a blur of green and gray. It was a long weekend, and it seemed loads of students were taking advantage.

Before boarding, you caught a glimpse of James and Sirius with some bags waiting in a patch of sunshine. Of course James Potter would use a free weekend to visit his parents.

Sirius was puffing on a cigarette, staring down at the tracks while James talked animatedly about something you couldn't hear. He looked…sad. And you turned away, following your brother onto the back of the train.

You were in a compartment with Thorfinn, his long legs stretched out and resting on the cushion beside you, his head lolled against the window. But you knew he wasn't sleeping, because his snores would rattle the windows more than the train.

He was oddly quiet, though, and the threat of danger buzzed like a gnat around your head. You wished you'd insisted on sharing at compartment with Rab, but Thorfinn dragged you away before you could open your mouth.

“What are you staring at?” He gruffed, peaking open one of his eyes to peer at you.

You hurriedly looked down at your book, but it was too late. He pushed himself up, cracking his thick neck before bracing his elbows on his knees and leaning towards you.

“We need to talk.”

You closed your book, setting it aside with trembling fingers. “What about?”

He sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. A bizarrely human gesture of discomfort. “Father wrote two weeks ago, the—the business is not going well.”

Your stomach twisted. “What do you mean?”

It looked like it genuinely pained him to be telling you this, and your addled mind couldn't begin to decipher it. “We're running out of money, y/n. Rapidly. If things continue, we may lose…” he trailed off, staring down at his fine leather shoes. “We may lose everything.”

“Why are you just telling me this now?” You asked, voice tight with fear. Was there anything secure in your life anymore? At every turn, if seemed danger and uncertainty lurked.

All you ever wanted was safety, and that seemed more impossible by the day.

“I didn't want it to affect—” he waved vaguely towards the closed compartment door. Towards Rabastan. “I didn't want it to be a factor. Father told me to keep it from you, but sister—” he reached for your hand, the bandage removed by Madame Pomfry that morning, and it took every ounce of willpower you'd built to not pull away. “You may be our last hope.”

You shook your head, tears springing to your eyes. “I can't, Thor—”

“You already are,” he said. “With the Lestrange's on our side, Father can turn this around. Save our family.”

You held his icy gaze, shocked by what was transpiring. Thor hadn't spoken to you like this in…Merlin, years? He'd become so tight-lipped, so hostile, you'd forgotten that there was man inside that brutal, glacial exterior.

But…was he a man you trusted?

“I should go to him now, then,” you said, the compartment suddenly stifling. “Have some quiet time before the party.”

Thorfinn nodded. “I'm not supposed to allow unsupervised meetings, but…this once I can let it slide.”

“Thank you, brother.” You leaned forward to kiss his cheek, surprising him, before slipping out of the compartment before he changed his mind.

You slumped against the wall, catching your breath and wiping tears from your cheeks. How had this all ended up on your shoulders? Your family, your future, your feelings, Sirius’ feelings—it was too much.

All you ever wanted was safety. Security.

For a moment of delirious hope you thought about tracing down Sirius’ compartment, begging him to take you to the Potter Manor with him. Let yourself want him as recklessly as he did you. But what Sirius offered was a pipedream, a fantasy, and you'd always been a practical girl.

You could only see one reality laid before you. Unrolled like a red carpet at your feet.

No matter how you felt about Sirius, how much you felt for him, could you risk everything for a shot at something as fickle as love?

What happened when he got tired of you in six months? When the novelty wore off? When the heat of an illicit affair turned tepid and stale?

Sirius would resent you. You would resent him. It could only end in heartbreak for the both you. Could only end in pain.

You raped a knuckle on the door of Rabastan's compartment.

“Come in,” he called, sounding a bit distracted.

You slid open the door, peaking your head in. “Am I disturbing you?”

He closed the book in his lap, setting aside the quill in his hand for notes. Dressed in luxurious clothes, even for a train ride he thought he'd be spending alone. “Never, darling. Are you alright?”

You sat on the cushion beside him, his dark eyes sweeping over you, tangible as a caress. “Thorfinn is snoring too loud for me to think straight,” you lied. “And I thought maybe we could spend some time together, before tonight?”

He smiled, turning so his back was braced against the train window and he was facing you, one leg propped up on the seat. It was a casual position, spread out and languid, and your cheeks flushed with heat at the near indecency of it.

Rabastan never did anything by mistake, and this was no exception. His perceptive eyes watched your reaction, and something sinful flickered to life in them as the blush stained your skin.

“Your brother was under strict orders to prevent unsupervised interactions,” Rab pointed out, tilting his head slightly.

“We'll be in London by the time he wakes up, he won't even notice,” you replied.

He made a soft, contemplative sound in his throat. “I didn't take you for the rebellious type, little doe.” He pushed his dark hair back from his face, revealing every sharp angle and curve, a face carved by the Goddess Aphrodite herself. Flawless.

You'd make beautiful, perfectly pureblood children, that was for sure. Not that you cared much for that, beauty or blood status, and you hadn't ever really contemplated whether you wanted children. It was just what was done.

“I'm not, usually,” you said. “I'm not sure what's come over me.” At least that wasn't entirely a lie.

“You always have this lost look in your eye,” he murmured. “Beautiful, fuck, you're beautiful. But sad, aren't you?”

His words struck a chord, tears brimming once more, weighing down the buoyancy of his praise.

You were so tired of being sad all the time, afraid. You just wanted to forget for awhile, and just be.

Rab shifted, setting his feet on the ground and moving closer to you. His hand came up to cup your cheek, turning your face towards him. “Darling, I could make you so happy.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek, achingly tender, and a sob wrenched itself from your chest. “Sh, sh, my love, it's alright now.” He swiped away your tears with his thumbs. “You're safe with me. You'll never know hardship or pain again, if you just let me take care of you.”

You looked up at him with watery eyes, his expression painfully sincere. And you knew he meant it, knew that he would never let harm come to his wife. If you were his, you were as secure as gold in Gringott's. Untouchable.

“Just tell me what you need from me, and it's yours,” he whispered, eyes shimmering with promise.

Right now, all you wanted was to forget. To feel something other than gnawing, consuming fear.

“Don't want to think anymore,” you breathed. “I'm so tired of thinking.”

The corner of his mouth lifted, sharp as a dagger and twice as dangerous. “I think I can manage that.” He dragged you towards him, molding his lips to yours. You leaned into him, letting his mouth guide yours through the lush, toe-curling kiss. His tongue glided over your lower lip, tasting you, and you parted for him, moaning as his tongue twined with yours.

Rab felt so good, so assured and deliberate. It was easy to give in to him, to let him take the lead.

One of his arms looped around your waist, hauling you up and into his lap, straddling him. His hand on your face slid into your hair, gentle but firm as he deepened the kiss. Your heart beat wildly in your chest, heat spilling into your lower belly. You gave a tentative roll of your hips, desperate for more than a kiss, and you felt him smile against your mouth.

“Eager, darling?” He purred, kissing down your neck. “As tempting as you are, little doe, there will be none of that until you're mine.”

“Rab,” you whined, digging your fingers into his muscular shoulders, head tipping back to give him more access.

“Fuck, you sound so pretty.” His arms wrapped around you, pulling you flush to his chest as he thrust his hips up, making you gasp. “Go on, sweetheart. Show me what a perfect little wife you'll be.”

His words send a terrifying, exhilarating thrill through your body, a visceral reaction beyond rationality. It was a like a drunk being passed a handle of whiskey, everything you ever wanted at your fingertips.

Pretty little wife.

A path. A plan. A purpose.

You rocked your hips against him again, crying out when the thick bulge of his cock grazed your clit. Yes, yes, yes. Fuck, it felt so good, losing yourself in him. Letting the world slip free from your shoulders like the moans slipping from your lips.

Rab chuckled low in his throat, his hand skimming down your stomach, dipping beneath your skirt and panties to feel your dripping pussy, leaking obediently into his hand as his middle finger swirled your entrance. “You're a vision, darling. Absolute perfection,” he praised, the words hot and breathy against your skin. “Being so good.” His finger slipped inside of you, curling against your gooey walls, and you keened, aching thighs working you even faster against his palm.

“Mmph—Rab, m’so close,” you whimpered, burying your face into the crook of his neck.

“Go on, let go for me. There's my precious girl, that's it—” his whispered encouragement sent you over the edge, muffling your cry into his neck as pleasure seized you, hips bucking erratically as you rode out your high.

“Fuck, fuck,” you gasped, heart pounding in your ears, between your legs, as you slowly returned to earth, melting into his sturdy embrace.

Rabastan slid his fingers from you, taking a small taste of you for himself before feeding the digit between your lips. “Well done, love. Came so pretty for me.” He kissed along your temple, your cheek while you sucked yourself off of his finger.

He withdrew his finger, patting your cheek like you would an obedient dog, a smug smile tugging at his lips.

Suddenly, what you were doing hit you like a ton of bricks. You'd crawled into his lap like a bitch in heat, desperate and lonely, and so pathetic—your whole body stiffened in his arms, fighting the urge to recoil from him.

How could you have done this? Walked into his trap so willingly after everything? Betrayed Sirius’ open-heart so completely?

It took everything in you to swallow the tears forcing their way up your throat.

The train whistled, long and ear-splitting, and you jumped off his lap, so relieved your knees nearly gave out beneath you.

“Thor is going to wake up, I have to go.” You righted yourself, willfully ignoring the wet spot you left on his designer trousers, the raging hard on still tenting in his lap. “I'll see you tonight?”

“Run along, little doe. I'll see you tonight.” He waved you away.

You hurried back into the hall, nearly tipping over your feet when the train started to slow as it approached the station.

Thor wrenched open the compartment door, blue eyes landing on you. You have him a stiff nod, knowing what he wanted from you, and he grinned, jagged as the spikes of a bear trap.

You stared at yourself in the mirror. The emerald gown Rab selected for you was exquisite, tailored to perfection from its halter neckline to the slit reaching towards your hip. It looked like it had been poured onto you, hugging every curve. You should feel beautiful, but instead you felt deeply vulnerable. Like you may as well walk out there naked. All your secrets from the last month written across your skin.

After departing from the train, you and Thorfinn met up with your parents for tea, and you endured their endless questions and backhanded praise, leaving you feeling battered and even more ashamed than you already had.

It all felt so…hopeless.

Your eye wandered to your trunk, where the invisibility cloak was hidden away. A final sliver of hope. You didn't think you were brave enough to use it, if this morning was any indication. But you'd brought it anyways, knowing it was what Sirius wanted.

Your mind tugged one way, your heart another. Without this marriage your family could be left destitute. Your future a compete mystery.

And clearly, the allure of Rabastan's security and power was more formidable than you'd bargained for. The slightest push, and you'd folded. Fear making you desperate, foolish, cowardly.

And maybe that's what you were. Maybe Sirius was wrong about you.

The door to your suite creaked open, your mother sticking her head through the crack. “Are you finished yet?”

“Yes, mother,” you replied, rising from your makeup table and smoothing your dress. “I'm ready.”

You walked arm and arm with your mother down to the party, tuning out her endless instructions on how you should act and heave, who you should speak to, who you should ignore.

But as soon as you stepped into the ballroom, she fell silent in awe. It was stunningly lavish, every table dripping in velvet and diamonds,the glittering chandeliers overhead extravagant enough to compete with Gringotts. The marble floor clicked under your heels, the sound swallowed up by the band on the stage and the mingling voices floating on the air.

You knew the Lestrange's were wealthy, but this…

“Ah! There are my beautiful girls!” Your father appeared, Reinhard Lestrange on his left, Rabastan and Rodolpus flanking him like sentinels. “Don't you look lovely, darling.” Your father took your hands, bringing your knuckles to his lips, and you had to fight to control your expression. Your father never showed affection

Unconsciously, you glanced up at Rabastan. His eyes were trained on you, a pleased gleam lighting up his face, and you flushed. Reinhard seemed to notice the exchange, and looked at you with more interest.

“It's a pleasure to finally meet you,” he drawled, his voice having the same smooth cadence as his younger son. “Reinhard Lestrange.” He offered a hand, and you placed your fingers in his, and he brushed a kiss to your knuckles.

“It's an honor, sir,” you cooed despite your heart beating wildly in your chest, curtsying low.

A small smile ghosted his mouth, an echo of Rabastan's. “No wonder my son is so besotted, it's rare to meet such a competent young lady. Let alone one as striking as you.”

Besotted. You caught Rodolpus and Rabastan exchange a look, Rodolpus a teasing smirk, Rabastan a half-hearted glare.

“I only have my parents to thank for my nature, sir,” you said, and your parents beamed.

Reinhard chuckled. “So, what went wrong with your brother then?” Reinhard teased, surprising you with his sense of humor.

“Well, there's always one,” you shrugged, glancing at Rodolpus, and Reinhard burst out laughing.

Rabastan gave you a proud wink, and you bit your lip to stop from grinning. Rodolpus chuckled too, elbowing his brother, and you exhaled in relief. Maybe you could do this.

“Quite right, darling. Lucky Bella didn't hear that though, she's rip those pretty eyes right out.” Reinhard clapped Rodolpus on the shoulder. “Come, dinners about to begin.”

Rabastan swooped in as your party began to move, looping your arm through his. He looked wonderful, like one of those American movies stars, so dapper in his perfectly pressed black suit.

He leaned down towards you, keeping you close as you navigated the crowd. “Masterfully done, darling. I haven't seen my father laugh in weeks.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, waving at Evan and Regulus as you walked past them, their jaws a bit slack as they stared at you.

Rab cast them a warning glare, and they snapped their heads back to one another. “You look beautiful, though I doubt it needs to be said considering the trail of broken necks.”

“It's the dress, Rab. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever worn,” you said, looking up at him through dark lashes. “I'm so grateful.”

He leaned forward, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. “You'll have a closet full of the finest things, little doe.”

You reached the table and he pulled a chair out for you. You sat down, letting him slide you closer to he table before taking his seat beside you, to the right of his brother. Thorfinn sat beside your father, who was at Reinhards left. Your brother cast you an appraising glance, but turned his attention back to your father with barely an acknowledgement. Your heart deflated a bit.

Rabastan shook his head, frowning at the hurt tugging down the corners of your mouth. “And I thought my brother was an arse.”

“I resent that,” Rodolpus muttered, taking a sip of champagne. His wild-haired wife sat beside him, curled around his arm like a snake, her eyes meandering over your face.

Bellatrix Lestrange, once a Black. You could see the Black genes written all over her, from the bone structure to the haunting gray eyes. A jilted pang made you wince down at your plate.

How badly you wished Sirius was here. And he would be, you supposed, if Walburga and Orion Black weren't despicable wastes of oxygen.

You glanced down the table, finding them sitting with Regulus' between them, his eyes cast down at his plate while his parents talked over his head. From the movement of Walburgas mouth, you knew what they were talking about: Sirius.

Regulus felt your gaze and looked up, his eyes connecting with yours. His jaw feathered with tension, and thread of connection in spooling between you. He must see the hurt reflected in your eyes well.

You looked away.

Dinner dragged down for what felt like eons, tiny plate after tiny plate of priceless, exotic food, and endless flutes of champagne.

After dessert, Rabastan coaxed you out onto the dancefloor, where you waltzed and turned for another hour or so. But you couldn't get Regulus' expression out of your mind, couldn't shake the harrowing feeling it left behind.

We aren't supposed to be here, it screamed.

You'd never particularly enjoyed these parties, volleying with Sirius had always been your favorite part even if you'd never admit it. You felt his absence like a missing rib.

Had you ever missed Rabastan like that? Felt a moment was lacking, a meal was tasteless, a song was hollow, because Rabastan wasn't there to enjoy it with you?

The answer came with dizzying clarity: not even once.

But you felt it constantly with Sirius. Even at the wretched party, you so wished he could hear the sonorous band, or got to taste the bizarrely sweet squid patté just so you could exchange the same disgusted glance.

Everything felt brighter, lighter with Sirius.

But, the toll of the Lestrange clocktower sounded like a death knell. There was no going back.

You heart fractured, sending a wave of despair so intense, you stumbled over Rabastan’s foot.

He hauled you closer to his chest, steadying you. “Are you alright, darling?” He murmured, gently brushing your hair from your forehead. “Ready to sit for a spell?”

You nodded, allowing him to escort you towards a set of chairs in a quieter corner of the party. He flagged down a waiter to bring you a glass of water, and procured a fan from another.

“I have some business to discuss with my father, will you be alright on your own for a bit?” He asked, petting the top of your head.

“I'm alright, thank you, Rab,” you replied, taking a sip of water to try and force down the knot of emotion in your throat.

He kissed your cheek before disappearing into the crowd. You noticed your brother peel off from his place at the bar with some girl to follow him, and alarm bells sounded in the back of your mind.

You had a terrible, bone-deep feeling that the business they were discussing was you.

When you looked around, no one was paying you any mind. Your parents were nowhere to be seen, and neither were the male Lestrange's.

This might be your only chance to find out what they had in store for you.

As quickly as you could without drawing attention, you made your way out of the party and up to your room, fanning yourself and hoping anyone that noticed you would simply think you were poorly and retiring to your room.

You ditched your heels and grabbed the invisibility cloak, wrapping around yourself. You watched yourself disappear in the mirror, and a thrill of excitement shot up your spine. Sirius' cologne still lingered on the fabric, and it brought you a bit of comfort.

After stuffing some pillows under your duvet, you slipped out of the room, invisible as a wraith, a closed the door softly behind you. You hurried down the halls of the massive manor, wracking your brain to remember the brief tour their house Rabastan gave you upon arrival. You turned down the hall you remembered him skipping over, the walls decorated with art too fine to be unimportant like he'd implied.

A few feet down the hall, you could hear your father's voice floating through a crack in the door.

“This is my daughter we're talking about, Lestrange,” he bit.

“What you're proposing is absurd, Rowle,” Reinhard replied, sounding almost bored. “Especially considering it seems she'd marry my son of her own volition.”

“Not without our permission, she wouldn't. And she will have no such blessing until the amount is paid in full.”

Your throat dried. What amount?

Rabastan chuckled, the sound low and patronizing. “You think she cares what you think, Thorfinn?”

“Of course she does,” your father snapped. “Don't pretend you know her, or care about her.”

Silence echoed around the hall, drawn to a razors edge. You shifted to peer into the room, finding Rabastan leaning against his father's desk, eyes dark with rage.

Thorfinn stepped between Rabastan and your father, and Rodolpus moved to stand beside his younger brother, looking decidedly more casual than the rest of them.

Rodolpus alone could mop the floor with your family, and they knew it.

“Care about her?” Rabastan growled. “Have you not come to my house to sell her like merchandise?”

“Rabastan,” Reinhard warned.

Rabastan pushed off the desk, prowling closer. “Merchandise, which, I feel inclined to mention, you damaged?”

Your stomach dropped, and Thorfinn blanched.

“What?” Your father hissed, turning to Thorfinn.

“Damaged how?” Reinhard asked, placing a hand on his son’s shoulder.

Rabastan went quiet, letting Thorfinn sweat, before he shook his head. “Damaged metaphorically, of course,” he said, leaning back against the desk and Thorfinn sagged a bit in relief.

“Regardless, you ask too much, Rowle,” Reinhard continued, casting a warning glare at Rabastan.

“How much would a daughter of your own be worth, Reinhard?” Your mother asked, and you gasped. Your mother was never one to speak out of turn.

Reinhard’s expression darkened. “That's the difference between us, witch. I would never put a price on my child's head,” he snarled. “I've only agreed to be a part of this because my son insisted.”

You braced a hand on the wall, shock rocking through you. Not only were they trying to sell you, Rabastan wanted to buy you?

“Father—”

“Enough. I know you're soft on the girl, but—”

“Fine,” your father interrupted, making Reinhard grit his teeth. “Make it 15,000 galleons.”

You felt like you might be sick. How could you family do this to you? Thorfinn's words earlier echoed in your mind. The business is not going well. You may be our last hope.

You didn't realize he meant it so literally.

Reinhard looked at Rabastan. “Is she worth it, son?”

You couldn't stick around for his answer. You took off down the hall, bare feet slapping on the marble, tears streaming down your face.

An arranged marriage, one of mutual gain, was one thing, but to be sold? It made you sick. How could Rabastan agree to that? How could he touch you, kiss you, knowing that he was purchasing you like livestock? Had you ever had a choice? Would they drag you down the aisle in shackles?

You pushed your way through the party and out the grand front doors, flying down the steps. The ground was frigid and rough beneath your bare feet, but you ran anyways, leaving the shadow of Lestrange Manor far behind you.

You couldn't get back Hogwarts without the train, and there was only one other place you could think of to go.

In a sickening whirl of color, the spell spit you out on the stone steps of candlelit porch, framed with enchanted flowers that bloomed brightly despite the winter chill: Potter Manor.

You stared up at the front door, heart racing so fast you could barely breathe. There was no turning back from this.

You reached a hand up and knocked three times.

A few moments later, James pulled open the door, dressed like he was about to go to sleep. Fuck, you hadn't even considered how late it was.

“Y/n?” He asked, adjusting his glasses.

“I'm sorry, I—”

“Y/n?” Sirius pushed in front of James, eyes wide. He was shirtless, flannel sweatpants slung low. His smattering of archaic ink a stark contrast to his fair skin, and for a second you forgot what you were doing here. “Are you okay?” Sirius asked, ushering you into the foyer and closing the door. “Are you hurt?” He pushed the cloak from your shoulders, revealing the gown you were wearing, and his eyes widened in surprise.

“No, no. I—” a sob welled up, choking off your voice.

“Oh, darling, come here.” He bundled you into his chest, wrapping his arms protectively around your body while you cried into the curve of his neck, fists balled up against his abdomen. “Sh, sh, it's alright, love. I've got you,” he murmured into your hair, pressing kisses into the side of your head. “I've got you now.”

He held you a bit tighter, lifting you into a bridal holding, making you cry harder.

“What's going on?” You heard an unfamiliar man ask, and you clung tighter to Sirius, fear streaking through you.

“Shh, it's James' father. You're safe,” he whispered, carrying you across the house and depositing you onto a chaise in a sitting room.

Distantly, you could hear James explaining who you were in a hushed voice.

“I didn't know where else you go,” you sniffled, taking a stuttering inhale. “I'm sorry for barging in.”

“Nonsense,” he shushed you, crouching down in front of you and offering a handkerchief. “You're right where your meant to be.”

You dabbed your eyes and nose, smearing mascara all over the clean fabric and cringed.

“Can you tell me what happened, love?” He asked, brows furrowed with concern.

“They—he—” your voice splintered, another wave of panic and sobs dragging you under.

“Okay, you don't have to say anything.” He shifted to sit on the couch and pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as you trembled. You buried your face into his neck and let yourself cry, and cry, and cry.

All the stress and fear of the last few weeks bubbled up and poured out of you until you were gasping, hollowed out and raw.

Something shuffled in the room, and you suddenly remembered you were not alone. Sirius appeared to have the same realization, glancing over his shoulder at his friend and his parents.

You braced yourself for the barrage of questions, but instead you heard James’ mother murmur, “Would she like some tea?”

“Love?” Sirius asked, turning to you. “Do you need anything?”

You shook your head, embarrassment scorching your cheeks. “M'okay, thank you Mrs. Potter,” you mumbled.

“Chamomile tea would be great, mama, thank you,” Sirius answered for you, a twinge of exasperated affection in his voice.

“’Course. Be back in a bit,” she said, her voice so gentle it brought tears to your eyes once again, and you heard three sets of slippers shuffle out.

“Look at me,” Sirius murmured, cradling your face and lifting your head from the crook of his shoulder. “I need to apologize for yesterday. I let my own feelings cloud my judgement and I—I’m so sorry if I frightened you.”

“It frightened me because it was true.” You barely recognized your own voice, hoarse and small. “Because I wasn't ready to face it.”

“And now?” His gray eyes welled with something dangerously close to hope, and your heart gave a silly little flip.

For the first time, you didn't try to fight it. You just let the feeling bloom in your chest, warm and glittery, and you nodded into his neck, wrapping an arm around his middle.

“Now I know that I was building my life, myself, around a lie. None of it was real—” tears threatened to choke you again, but you fought them down. “How I feel about you is the only thing I know isn't stained by their lies. I know that it comes from me, the real me. And that’s why it scared me so much. They taught me not to trust myself…”

Sirius was quiet, eyes glossy with unshed tears, his thumb catching a stray tear as it rolled down your cheek.

You weren't sure if you were ready to give voice to what you heard, but you wanted to offer some kind of explanation for your sudden appearance. “I overheard something, and my instincts were screaming at me, and I just…I listened.”

“That's good, love. That was the right thing to do,” he murmured, rubbing soothing circles around your back. “And I'm glad you came here.”

James sauntered into the sitting room, tray in hand. “I was wondering where the cloak went,” he said, crouching down in front of you and handing you a mug of tea. “You alright, mate?”

Mate. The word made your broken heart glow.

“I thought you ran it by him?” You asked, quirking a brow at Sirius.

Sirius shrugged. “James is a loud mouth.”

“Hey!”

“I heard you tried to go toe to toe with my brother,” you said, providing further proof of Sirius' accusation.

“And I'd do it again,” James huffed. “I'll do it now, if you want. Where is he?”

“Not Thorfinn, unfortunately. But you can tangle with me, if you'd like.” A low voice filled the room, startling the three of you to your feet. Rabastan stood leaned against the doorway, twirling his wand in his fingers. “Trusting sort, the Potters. Let me right in.”

James bolted out of the room in search of his parents and Sirius withdrew his wand, tugging you behind him.

“What did you do?” Sirius growled, and Rab rolled his eyes.

“Nothing, cousin. Now, get your hands off of my girl.” Rab straightened to his full height, but Sirius didn't falter.

Fuck this. “I heard you,” you snapped, stepping out from behind Sirius and raising your own wand as you stalked towards him. “I heard you talking with my parents. You fucking bought me?”

Rabastan's smug smile dropped. “No, I--”

“What am I worth, Rabastan? 15,000 galleons? Twenty?” you hissed, jabbing your wand under his chin.

“You didn't stick around for my answer, darling?” He countered, taking a step forward, closing the gap between you. “I said you were worth the trip to Azkaban after I gutted your brother like a fucking fish.”

You blinked. “What—”

“We were never going to buy you,” he admitted, his voice softening. “Or at least, I wasn't. I would only have you if you wanted me in return.” His fingers came up to caress your cheek, and you flinched away, taking a step back. “I thought you wanted me too,” he whispered, hurt straining the edges of his voice.

“You've been lying to me,” you said, taking another step back. “I can't trust you, or any of them.”

Rab's jaw flexed, his chin dropping to his chest in shame. “I'm sorry, little doe—”

“Don't fucking call me that.”

He turned his head like you’d slapped him, his hand flexing around his wand, eyes squeezing shut. A part of your heart ached with guilt, but you couldn’t forgive him. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

James returned, wand raised. “You need to get out, Lestrange. Now,” he ordered.

“James, wait,” Sirius said, stepping forward and placing a steady hand on your shoulder. “So, you didn't go through with it?” The question was directed at Rab, who lifted his head to meet Sirius’ eyes.

“That’s why I came,” he said, looking back at you. “I called it off. All of it. But I need you to understand, you...you can’t go home.”

“What?” Panic closed like a fist around your throat.

“I’m sorry, darl—y/n.” He took a tentative step towards you, pocketing his wand. “When we discovered that you ran, your father—he disowned you.”

You sagged to the side, Sirius catching you around the waist. They disowned you. Cast you side like damaged goods. Like you were worthless to them now. “W-what?”

The room tilted around you again, your vision tunneling to a pinprick--

“Easy, love.” Sirius eased you back onto the chaise, cupping your face in an effort to keep you tethered to consciousness. “Take a breath for me, in—good girl—now breath out. Nice and long, that’s it.”

You followed his instructions, taking big, deep breaths until the darkness at the edge of your vision receded, your heart rate starting to slow.

“All they’ve done is set you free, doll,” Sirius said, smoothing your hair from your face. “You’re going to be alright.”

“Where will I go?” You sniffed, clutching at Sirius’ shirt. Over his shoulder, you saw pain flicker across Rabastan’s face, but he looked away, towards James.

“If I provide a stipend, would your family be able to house her? Since you Potter’s like stray’s so much?” He gestured to Sirius.

“It’s up to her,” Sirius interrupted, throwing his cousin a glare. “She can go where she wants.”

“You’re more than welcome,” James said, looking past the others towards you. “We’ve got plenty of room, no stipend required.” The last bit was directed at Rab, his voice turning barbed.

“The semester’s almost over,” Sirius added. “Could stay for the summer, than get your own place in London. If that's what you want to do.”

“And we’ll keep your brother far away, if needed,” Rabastan added. “I meant what I said. Whatever you need, I’m here.”

Despite yourself, some of your resentment towards him loosened. He’d done the right thing in the end, and perhaps it wasn’t all a lie. This world had chewed you all up, one way or another, how much could you fault him for baring the scars of the monster that made him?

Those same scars nearly cost you everything. Everything being the man on his knees in front of you, the sincerest and most loyal person you'd ever known. The only person you ever trusted unconditionally and without restraint. He was everything you'd ever wanted, you'd just been to blinded by fear to see it.

“Thank you, Rab,” you murmured, and he dipped his chin. “And thank you, James,” you said, and he gave you two thumbs up. You took Sirius’ chin, turning his face to yours. “And you, Sirius, there aren’t enough ‘thank you’s’ in the world,” you whispered, and the smile he gave you was so lovesick, it nearly brought tears to your eyes.

“Don’t you dare thank me,” he said, taking your hand from his face and placing it over his heart, beating rhythmically in the center of his bare chest. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, love. I’ll maim Lestrange’s pretty face right now if you want—”

“Fuck off, mutt—”

“That won’t be necessary,” you chuckled, leaning in to peck Sirius’ lips. “But I appreciate the sentiment.”

“I suppose that’s my cue,” Rabastan said, adjusting his cuffs and looking everywhere but you and Sirius. “I’ll see you around the common room, then?”

“We’ll see—”

“Of course,” you placed a hand over Sirius’ mouth, silencing his attitude. He nibbled your palm in retaliation.

Rabastan dipped his chin in farewell and took his leave, glancing back at you a final time before stepping out into the quiet night.

You lowered your hand from Sirius’ mouth, giving him a phony scowl, and he bared his teeth, teasing you back.

“I’ll talk to my parents,” James said, rubbing the back of his head. “Sirius can show you to the empty guest room, though I suppose you won’t be using it—oi!” Sirius launched a pillow at James’ head, and he scampered away, disappearing down the hall.

Sirius turned his attention back to you, expression softening. “Are you alright, love?” He asked, holding your hands in his.

You nodded. “I’m okay…afraid, I suppose. But in a different way.” You traced the web of your fingers with your eyes, and brought your joined hands up to kiss across his scarred knuckles. “But Sirius, I’m not sure we should jump into anything quite yet.”

Sirius nodded, his eyes lingering on your lips. “We’ll go at your pace, whatever you want—so long as I can kiss you every six hours.”

You grinned, affection blooming like a burst of sunlight in your chest. “I think we can arrange that.” You leaned forward, pressing your tear-dampened lips to his, and for the first time, it didn’t hit you where it hurts the most, in your battered, bruised heart. It touched your soul instead, somewhere deeper, uncharted.

Somewhere new.

Thank you so much to everyone that read and supported this series! I'm so proud of it, and it was a joy to scream about it with you all 🫶

But don't worry, you haven't seen the last of Rabastan 😉

taglist: @lovelykat001, @carmenschemtrails, @lolalleins, @fangirl-swagg, @batboysanonymous, @watchmerora, @iheartnostalgia, @simars3, @elizabethblood9, @unstable-cucumber, @holholliday, @itisjustwhatitis

[redpill-tfs]

sup mate I'm british can I get a red pill I hate it here.

I'd be glad to help you out mate. I'll send you the pill and a plane ticket shortly. You'll know what to do when you arrive at your destination.

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

You arrive at the London airport about a week later, ticket and pill in hand. Nothing else will be needed for your new life. You weren't told where you were going, and the ticket strangely doesn't say. It just has your name and the gate number. You're starting to feel a bit weirded out by it but anything is better than staying here in Britain, right?

You get through security with no issues, arriving at your gate just as the passengers are boarding. You sit down in your seat, ready for your new life to begin as the plane takes off not long after. The guy next to you is in a military uniform, looking at the nearly naked women in a magazine he brought. You try to hide your disgust in having to sit next to this guy for the whole flight. Those imperialist douchebags just bragged about the women they fucked and flexing in front of the bros. Totally unlike you in every way.

You remember the pill in your pocket and pull it out. It sits in the palm of your hand, almost begging to be swallowed. The in flight TV is playing news about debates in Parliament, but you can't bring yourself to pay attention. It's not as though British politics will matter to you anymore. that isn't to say you paid much attention before, not even taking the time to vote.

As the flight attendant brings you your water and the smallest bag of pretzels you've ever seen, you take the chance to finally take the red pill. It goes down on the first gulp. At first you don't feel anything. Was this all a scam? Are you going to be stuck in the US with only the clothes on your back and no way to contact anyone back home?

You don't have to worry for long, however, as you get a tingling feeling in your stomach. You squeeze past the guy sitting next to you and rush to the airplane bathroom, quickly locking the door behind you. You press your hands against the sink to support yourself. Were they always that big and calloused?

You take a look in the bathroom's mirror. Your hair has been cut into a short, standard brown haircut, not a hair out of place. Some stubble has grown onto your face, giving a nice mature but rugged look.

You stare in shock as your body changes. Any fat on your body is gone in an instant, replaced by pure muscle. Not too much, just enough to show you're in shape and train regularly. You feel your feet grow larger, now a size 14.

Your old clothes disappear in a flash as new clothes materialize in their place to match the new you. Your old nerdy t shirt is now a plain dark green, complimenting your new figure. Dark green camo pants accompany the look, perfectly showing off your longer legs. Was your butt always that much of a bubble butt? The pants sure don't hide it. A camo jacket drapes itself over your shoulders, the American flag displayed proudly on your bigger arm. Finally, a pair of boots plops onto your feet, ready for the days of training ahead. (Wait, training?)

That's right, you're heading back to base after taking a short vacation to the UK with your bro Jake. You've been in the army since you turned 18, hating your time in school and wanting to serve your country proudly, just as your father and grandfather did before you. You met Jake on the first day of bootcamp and became the best of bros ever since. You two constantly worked out together, ate meals together, and of course hit on women together when you took trips off base. You couldn't ask for a better wingman if your body count was anything to go by. The ladies love a man in uniform after all.

You give yourself one last look over in the mirror before you head back to your seat, giving Jake your special handshake as you sit back down next to him.

"You okay, bro? You were in there for a while."

"Yeah, broski. Just making sure I look good for the chicks, ya know?"

"If you say so bro. Hey, check out this chick in here."

As you refastened your seatbelt, you take a look back at the TV. FOX News is reporting how Trump is passing tariffs on Canada and Mexico. You smirk as you listen. You can't think of a better president than Trump, besides maybe Reagan. He was turning the country back around, making it a force to be reckoned with soon the global stage. Those sissy snowflake libtards could cry about it all they wanted, but you knew the country was on the Right path once again. You voted for Trump all three times he ran of course.

The flight landed in South Carolina not long after, and you and Jake set off back to Fort Jackson. Though sure no one would notice if you two snuck in a quick trip to a bar for a one night stand!

[jamethinks]

Chapter 111... let's talk about it.

Firstly, that is not Anya's real mother. That is her birth mother. Biological if you want to get technical. While I don't think anyone is going to turn their backs on Yor as Anya's mother, language is still important. Resist the nuclear-monogamy family propaganda. No hate no shade but this is touching on very triggering territory for me and I am weary of what I will have to suffer through. The batfam fandom has been pissing off as it alright. Wrap it up.

Now for the actual chapter

Died 852 Born in like 1950s/1940s. Welcome back Eren Yeager

Theory: Anya's mother was experimented on during the second war (during WW2 we say a lot of unethical practices and experiments going on so who's to say). At some point she would have gotten pregnant (likely not on purpose) and had Anya. Then she would have broken Anya out or something.

Questions: Can Anya's mom read minds? We know Anya can and that the scientists were interested in this ability but also there does not seem to be any interest in finding her. No easter eggs or discussions. Seems rather odd to just let something like go unless you had something more interesting/valuable in your possession ie Anya's mother.

Alternatively, given the nature of the story it is possible nobody gave a rat's ass until. And by nobody I mean Endo. This could be the intro into unraveling the story behind Anya and finally going into the actual mystery of the story. I guess now that they have decided what that mystery is we will look into it. But it would have been nice to have a few easter eggs but have it your way

There is a way this could work. They just thought Anya was dead. Her mom killed her setting her free like a butterfly and stayed with them so her daughter does not have to go through that torture anymore. Granted she didn't actually kill her but that is what she wanted them to believe hence why they never looked for her.

One of Ashe's powers was the ability to make people see illusions. Within the context of the story they are treated a truthful premonitions. If we assume her mother had these abilities then that would make for a lot of interesting possibility regarding Anya's escape. Would also link her to Bond but who cares.

Farfetched theory: she is a clone and that woman is her mother but also not really get freaky with it idk

The existence of an adult telepath does open up an alternative possibility. In one of my fics, Anya's mother is a Russian spy who would use her telepathic abilities to help the country advance in war and such and Anya was created in hope of giving Ostania access to that ability. I think that may be what happened here as well. Anya's mother was used as a tool by the Ostanian government to help sniff out spies and shit. Given the high rates of espionage and distrust, it does seem likely that they would want a telepath in their bank to advance their own war efforts. This could also explain why Donovan may seem like he can read thoughts. He could use her to read the thought of people he suspects or whatever and report back to him. It's a farfetched theory but anything to prove he can't read minds.

Lastly, it seems Melinda's delusions are affecting Twilight a bit. The way he reacted to Yor seemingly reading Anya's mind is interesting. Even though he may not necessarily believe Melinda it does seem like it made him debate his understanding of reality. He's a skeptical man by nature so I think he might just become more observant of the people around him. As if he himself is debating the existence of telepaths and mind readers. This not only puts Anya in awkward position but also Yor. Even if he doesn't devolve into a paranoid man convinced that everyone can read his minds, it will make him question her more and possible bring those early day suspicions of who Yor truly is.

Besides he's also getting close and attached to them. It won't surpise me if in defense he starts making up insane scenarios and explanations to forcibly detach himself from them. One trait he has always shared with Donovan is paranoia and distrust of others. Of course we have seen what that distrust can do to you.

(Side note: Yor immediately clocking his confusion and clarifying for him is so cute. Like she knows her paranoid little man. Granted, it will come to bite her in the ass if he starts to spiral out of control)

[tanukitsuneko-suki]

build episode 37 thoughts:

- the suit actor for evol rabbit has a really nice ass

- the evol trigger doesn’t work even when he’s in sento’s body. i think it would be really funny if the reason why it fails is because he does not have love in his heart (ryusen love each other clearly that’s why the evol trigger works for them 😂)

- “sloppily possessing a human body is probably why i still can’t use the pandora box” no you’re just ugly

- I MISSED YOU SO MUCH. MY BABY

- HE CAN'T HENSHIN??!!?!?!?!?!?! IT'S SO FUCKING OVER YOU GUYS

- to be honest i thought the opening was kinda underwhelming when i first watched build but rn i'm in the middle of watching it and felt myself become teary-eyed what the fuck what the fuckkk

- 'my dna in you has been stripped away' oh okay so it's not selfcest then

- are we fucking serious

- my alien wife who is not an alien now so i cant even claim to be a monsterfucker anymore

- k-kazusen..(i get taken out the back and shot) (i really don't ship it as i am a senryu truther. but i would understand if this brought someone in a very deep rabbit hole..)

- my crackship (vernage and evolt)

- i wonder if evolt's personality changes slightly depending on who is his host (eg. becoming more curious about how humans work when he's with sento, aggressively attacking the country while he was with banjo, loving the 'game' and being playful while he was with soichi)

- in my head evolt isn't really a person in the conventional sense, but a culmination of impulses, the aggregation of desire and instinct. just like how the pandora box aroused the hidden ambitions and ruthlessness of everyone exposed to it, evolt for me at the moment is the personification of all these stray impulses, who does technically have its own thoughts but mostly goes along with the stupid selfish desires of those around it

- banjo asking gentoku to make him a rider as if gentoku wasn’t chilling by the sofa as the guys with actual illegal experiment knowledge aren’t the ones gassing the smashes up

- “i can’t do that for you. i don’t know a thing about science” i started tearing up giggling 😭😭 YEAH LIKE I SAIDDD

- “i got the job…” …BECAUSE OF NEPOTISM!??? IS HE GONNA ADMIT TO BEING A NEPO HIRE 😭

- 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

- this heated drama between men..

- “but i ended your girlfriend’s life” yeah damn his guilt runs deep because even EYE forgot about that

- nothing is funnier to me atm than kazumin and banjo setting their grudges aside to ask gentoku for help and he just. “I KILLED YOUR FRIENDS DO YOU REMEMBER‼️”

- gentoku: i killed your girlfriend

banjo: exactly.

gentoku: so why are you asking me

banjo: because of that, i didn’t want to lose anyone i cared about

second kasumi-sento parallel oh wow oh mann

- BANJO’S VOICE CRACKED OHHHHH EIJI AKASO YOU’RE DOING TOO MUCH YOUR CHARACTER SO TRAGIC YOUR SETTING TOO QUEER

- SENTO’S PHONE CALLING ENOUGHHHHHH

- i had to pause for a moment and stare outside because i had tears in my eyes when evolt said “even if you won’t see sento again?” GUYS PLEASE THIS BIG BAD VILLAIN OF THE SEASON IS A ONE-TRICK PONY ASS CLOWN AND YALL FALL FOR IT EVERY SINGLE TIME 😭😭

- evolt isn’t a mastermind he’s just a guy who discovered that if you threaten sento or banjo the other guy will for SURE do what you want . he just stumbled upon this bullshit cheat code and started using it every single goddamn time

- inukai looks really good acting like a villain asshole

- “i can erase his personality whenever i feel like it” ok now i’m not laughing

- kazusen..

- KAZUSEN… why are they getting moments all of a sudden.. stop it..

- jagaimo 😭😭😭😭😭😭 okay 🥔

- WAIT HE’S RIGHT…TOUTO HOKUTO SEITO RIDERS..TEAM UP..

- “but i can help build for a better one” HAHA

- MY WIFE😭😭😭

- AI WA MAKENAI 😭😭😭😭😭

- MAGMA WASN’T HIS FINAL FORM!?!?!!😭😭

- “we’ll create a future using the power you gave me” Ok

- i started tearing up cackling again what the actual FUCK banjo ryuga 😂🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

- HE’S BACK. ah. evolt!sento lasting for exactly two episodes…

- black hole… SHINDA HENSUU DE KURIKAESU. KAZOE KOTO GA HARANDA NETSU

- SENRYU REUNITING..! ALSO THE WAY BANJO CALLED OUT SENTO’S NAME…AUUUUUU

- “… you are—“ oh SHIT IS THIS KATSURAGI

- WE’RE HIT WITH A GODDAMN AMNESIA PLOT??!!!!!! FUCK OFF 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

- i hate it here

[ange-de-la-mort]

Okay, guys, thank you all for your time. The randomizer has spoken and I'll contact the following people in a moment: @sexuallyvague @patheticgirl127 @st8rkey @rafesallerton @ellatehe @darknessanddistance

For those of you who didn't win today, please don't worry. The movie is still rolling out in my country (but it's harder to check where since darling MUBI doesn't let me look for cinemas anymore but wants me to stream it instead, not cool, MUBI), so if I get more postcards or basically ANYTHING else, we'll be here again. <3

GIVEAWAY!

Happy Queer (2024) digital release day to those of us who celebrate.

Since I am one of the lucky people in a country with MUBI as the distributor, I have the chance to share some love with the Queer community (and the Leegene community, shh).

I'm giving away some rare movie poster postcards to six people in total. Open worldwide, free shipping.

1x the full set with all three cards 2x a set with two cards 3x one card randomly chosen (either with the centipede necklace or the leg touches) Ends 31st of January.

The rules are: - reblog = 1 entry - like = 1 entry - you need to be comfortable with giving me your legal name and irl address if you win (it might seem self-explanatory, but I've had problems in the past where people were surprised and uncomfortable with me needing their irl address to send them physical mail) That's it. You don't need to follow me. You don't need to read my fics (thought you should, I'm very proud of them, shh)

I have not seen people talk about having gotten any of these cards outside of Germany yet, but I have seen scalpers sell them for ~20 bucks on ebay, which I think is shoddy as hell. So here we are.

Good luck <3

[witch-craft-works]

I don't talk about politics In fact I hate talking about politics because I really hate bringing real life issues onto my blog. I use this as an escape because I love Pretty Cure and I love Twisted Wonderland and I want to make people laugh with my stupid incorrect quotes because I love making them.

I'm so sorry if I sound crazy but i'm venting rn. But I really feel like I have to now

In the last week I got dog slammed by my dad, stepmom and brother (he's 11 I don't know why he's talking) because I voted for Kamala Haris. My dad even made a comment that I'm not allowed to vote if I'm going to vote for Kamala.

As I was writing this my mom called me to rub in my face that Trump is going to win. I think i'm going to cry as I'm writing this because yeah theres a good chance that Trump will win this election.

I'm going to cry because our rights as women will be taken away. My younger sister, and younger cousins will have to grow up in a country that doesn't value women because old men who look like they came out of the stone age feel that we can't control our own bodies.

There have been women who have died because they couldn't get the care they needed because of those stupid abortion bans. My state is included so if anything happens to me (God forbid) I can't get the care I need. Especally if they decide to make it a law that you can't travel to get care.

So yeah I hate the fact that people feel like an accused rapist and criminal should run our country. So yes if our country starts to look like fucking Gilead from the handmaids tale soon I blame the people who voted for Trump and or didn't vote at all.

This was my first time voting and I was really hoping for the best.I hate it so so much and the bottle of bleach is looking so good rn.

[keferon]

I. AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH. I’m okay I’m fine I’m okay I’m fine I’m oka

The fic I'm illustrating and losing my mind about 👉 Mistakes on mistakes until

[suratan-zir]

we're gonna freeze in darkness this winter and no one fucking cares

it's only June but our energy infrastructure is already severely fucked by russian attacks and it will only get worse

worse than before

the whole country descending into the stone age worse

and it still won't be an escalation as long as it's Ukrainian lives that are at stake

[houkagokappa]

Bless Mokumokuren for outright stating that the genre tags for Hikaru ga Shinda Natsu have never changed, i.e. the official site never dropped the "BL" tag from the series as it got more popular to reach a wider audience. It's been a persistent rumor in the fandom, and one I'm afraid will start circulating again once the anime starts airing.

If you mainly follow English language sources, please remember that whatever tags different anime and manga sites, databases, aggregators etc., either add or leave out don't always reflect the author's intent and the official sources, and should NOT be used to argue for what genre or demographic a certain work belongs to. It can just be random people claiming whatever they want based on their own interpretations and I've seen plenty of errors and real time changes to them based on new chapter developments, that might help catch the attention of some people, but don't suddenly change the genre of the work itself.

Not having BL as a genre tag also doesn't mean that a work can't include any boys loving. The queer themes have always been present in HGSN, and if you're up to date with the manga, they've been outright stated. Having queer characters or a queer story line doesn't automatically mean that a work is BL or yuri, and not including those tags doesn't mean that it's just "baiting". This gets brought up so much I think Mokumokuren's gotten tired of it, because the other day they clearly spelled it out for everyone, assuring that the story is queer, although it's not tagged as BL or focused on romance.

Here's what they shared on their Bluesky account:

The genre tag and advertising direction on the official website have never changed since the beginning of serialization. From the beginning, it has been consistently promoted as a "coming-of-age horror" within the official reach. (It's also true that the official reach is very limited…) Whatever the genre tag is, and even if this story isn't a romance, as the author, I guarantee that it is a queer story. There seems to be a persistent false rumor going around that "the author suddenly removed the BL tag from the official website by the 3rd volume," but the truth is that there was never an official BL tag from the beginning. (This is not to deny any queerness.)

And further back:

My opinion that the genre of The Summer Hikaru Died is something that the readers are free to think about on their own remains unchanged, but I view it as a story that sympathizes with those who have been left out of stories about love and sex, so I describe it as "coming-of-age horror." I think the key is the fear of not being “normal” and not having a place to belong, which is common for all kinds of people regardless of their attributes. I think it's fine for queer stories that aren't romances to exist. That's why I've been careful not to position it as a love story from the start.

Let's stop obsessing over tags and allow queer stories to exist and thrive, even when they lack a clear romantic plot or subplot and are more subdued.

[ramshacklerumble]

.

[carmen-berzattos]

I have never felt this level of impatience and frustration in my life before. I want to burst in tears or in screams or both. My head is full of fire and my chest is just acrid acid eating away at my insides. I want to crawl out of my skin and shrivel and dry. Maybe then there will be absolution. All conversations seem like a play, acting at normalcy to suffocate your pain. Smiles seem fake and callous. I look at my American co-workers and friends and I want to scream in their faces: YOU'RE ALL THE SAME TO ME YOU'RE ALL THE SAME. YOU HAVE ALL BECOME MONSTROUS IN THE SPAN OF A FEW WEEKS. I CANNOT STAND YOU I CANNOT STAND YOU I CANNOT STAND YOU.

[blushblushbear]

Hellooooo! 👋

Thank you again for taking my previous request with the immortal x reincarnation Headcannons 🥺 I forever love that trope to death

I enjoy seeing others Headcannons for the guys💖 thus why i’m requesting another Headcannons for once again, the Kitsunes

Since it’s December 👀 do you think you could come up with some Headcannons for what the three Kits would do on Christmas?

Like Aki trying to trap Santa for example🥺

SO! 👏

A quick history lesson to preface this! (Which I had to google, these fox idiots and fan fics involving them have me googling so much lately)

While Christmas first appeared in Japan in the 16th century, it wasn't widely celebrated until the Meiji Era (1868-1912)

If we take their release date as the canon date for things (so they got foxified 200 years prior to their release) that means they got turned into foxes around 1823, aka the Edo Period

So yeah, they have been foxes for the whole of christmas being a major/regular thing in japan and also being kitsune probably did not even celebrate it cause it might be competition???? (would they bro out with Jesus or try and fist fight him in a parking lot?????? surely not on the dude's birthday! No one is that cruel)

but yeah, it's safe to say their christmas this year (or maybe in 2023 cause they WERE released on December 5th, how quickly did you unfox them??) with you is like---- their first christmas EVER

ALSO SPEAKING OF CHRISTMAS IN JAPAN

it's considered a couples' holiday-- or at least one you spend with friends at a party or something

sooooo with that being said

Aki:

ya know originally when you said he'd try to catch santa I was like 'nah' but then I thought about it and like

actually you're so right??

he totally would though

at least he would try

is he gonna ransom santa??

beat him up???

strike some kind of deal for presents???

JUST VIBE WITH THE DUDE????

even he's not sure, he's gonna see how it goes

I think he's very santa focused until he hears that christmas is a couple's holiday

then his gears shift so so fast

and don't even get me STARTED about after he heard about mistletoe

his santa trap plans become you trap plans so quickly

and all of them end with you kissing him

also he heard there's cake and fried chicken and frankly

he thought all this was really silly when he first heard it but it's low key one of his favorite holidays now

Haru:

Hoe hoe hoe

okay but no LISTEN

there's this saying that the most sex in japan is happening on christmas or something to that tune

so like

Haru has known about this holiday for a while

he's actually the only one who knew about it before hand

though his views on it are very like-----

in a horny japanese way

he only knows it as the go to a party and getting laid holiday

which fair

but yeah

his views on things sort of change a little now that he's got his powers back and is not stuck in fox mode for the first time during this holiday

well-- his views haven't changed but the mood has for him

he's still wanting to take you out and wine and dine you and also end up back at one of your places

but 1) it's more romantic to him now than just a fun lay like it would've been before you

and 2) frankly this is just his usual m.o. just more christmas flavored

it's like a pre-valentine's day as far as he's concerned

aka another excuse to take you out, show you off, give you a good time then end the night with some alone time back at your place <3

Fuyu:

The oldest and most shinto-y of the bunch, he's the most taken aback by this holiday

he doesn't hate it or anything but he does see it as humans doing kooky human things

but you've opened him up to a lot of new experiences recently so ya know what??

alright!

let's go out and have a modern little christmas date

it's different but it could be fun!

and it is fun actually

he tries a lot of new things and he actually has a good amount of fun with you

it's very much a cute little sweet christmas date

he tries fried chicken for the first time

well, okay--- yakitori exists but my understanding is that that's more grilled, and tempura exists but that's sort of different to like------- KFC style deep fried shit

he's def had stuff like it but not like---- KFC ya know????

he likes it fine

lil greasy for his taste but it's nice for a treat

but yeah it's mostly just a pleasant little date, you and him just kinda enjoying the sights and sounds together in this new world that he refused to partake in for so long

and it def ends with a christmas cake

and maybe you showing him mistletoe

aaaand maybe telling him about the spike in spicy times if you feel so inclined ;3

[vt-scribbles]

Please still be here in 4 years.

Please.

[a-flaming-idiot]

Seeing other countries protesting against Donald Trump and Elon Musk feels like being an abused child who watches as their entire block suddenly stands up against your abusive parent.

[wutheringheightsfilm]

my parents said no to letting my boyfriend come down and stay with us tomorrow for the literal last two and a half days im in the country and now im going to drink bleach