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religion-is-a-mental-illness · 6 months ago

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By: Sam Harris

Published: May 13, 2024

This is a transcript of a recorded podcast.

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Well, I suppose I should say something about the campus protests. There is a lot of anger and confusion out there. Just how much of a problem is this?

There is no question that much of the chaos we see online is performative—which is to say that it’s being staged for the cameras. That doesn’t mean that it is entirely insincere. But it is interesting to consider whether the events themselves would have happened, or happened at this scale, and have this character, absent an ability to broadcast them on social media.

Of course, this concern relates to far more than what is happening on college campuses in response to the war in Gaza. The combination of a smartphone and social media appears to be driving our species crazy. We’re all effectively walking around with a television studio in our pockets. And the question is, what is this doing to us?

So, this is just to say that when I see video of crowds of very smug and very hostile kids at our finest universities, effectively supporting Hamas, I’m a little slow to conclude that this tells me everything I need to know about the scope of the problem. As I’ve said before, the entire aftermath of October 7th has convinced me that I have been almost totally asleep to the current reality of antisemitism. So I do think it is a far bigger problem than I realized. But I still don’t know how informative it is to see a video of some imbecile at Columbia or Harvard shouting for the Jews to “go back to Poland.”

What I can say is that the response of these universities has been totally inadequate and hypocritical. Their policies around protests have clearly been violated and have been for months. And, as many people have pointed out, it’s the obvious double standard here that constitutes antisemitism. I’m less worried about the specifics of each ugly incident than I am about the fact that the administrations have been tolerating behavior that they simply would not tolerate had the objects of all this derision and abuse been anyone else. If these colleges had any number of people shouting that blacks should go back to Africa, or that trans people deserve to die, these students (to say nothing of professors who said such things) would be expelled. And this is clearly what should happen to the most uncivil actors here. All the kids who have been physically preventing Jewish students from accessing buildings on campus, threatening them with violence, simply because they are Jewish, should be expelled. Without question.

Even if you concede that Israel is totally in the wrong, this would not justify the behavior we’ve been seeing on campus. Imagine that China was doing something awful and worthy of protest—which, of course, China often is. It has put 2 million Uyghurs and Turkic Muslims in concentration camps, where they are reportedly subjected to torture, and sterilization, and forced labor. Where are the protests? Apparently, no one cares. Not a peep out of Harvard, Stanford, Princeton, or Yale. But let’s say that all these activist students started caring about China’s abuse of their Muslim population and were protesting that. Imagine how the universities would respond if these protestors started targeting other students on campus, just because they happen to be Chinese—as though ethnically Chinese Americans or even Chinese nationals at Harvard could be culpable for what the Chinese government was now doing. Imagine them not letting Chinese students access buildings. This would be immediately recognized to be morally insane, and at odds with every core value of a university, and there would be zero tolerance for it.

But the analogy actually understates the perversity of what’s been happening—because many of these students are not merely protesting injustice and cruelty and innocent death, and just happen to be harassing the wrong people. Rather, many of them are supporting injustice and cruelty and innocent death, explicitly. “Globalize the Intifada” isn’t a call for peace; it’s a call for the indiscriminate murder of Jews. I’m willing to cut college kids a fair amount of slack, but you mean to tell me that students at Harvard and Princeton and Stanford don’t know that Palestinian intifadas entail a fair amount of suicidal terrorism and the deliberate murder of noncombatants? (The deliberate murder of noncombatants.) I might have been confused about a few things when I was 19, but I was never that confused.

How did the kids get this turned around? Well, there are many reasons, but here is one: Qatar, the petrostate, has given tens of billions of dollars to US, Canadian, and British universities. Qatar has given more money to western universities than any other country on Earth. The regime that controls Qatar is directly governed by the theology of the Muslim Brotherhood, of which Hamas is an offshoot. Where Jews are concerned, the Muslim Brotherhood is a fusion of Islamism and Nazism, and actually genocidal in intent. Through another radical group, American Muslims for Palestine, the Muslim Brotherhood funds the student group that has been one of the primary organizers of these protests, Students for Justice in Palestine. They also fund a group of very confused Jews at these protests, Jewish Voices for Peace. This money trail was exposed by Charles Asher Small at the Institute for the Study of Global Antisemitism and Policy. Qatar also owns major soccer teams in Europe, and Al Jazeera, the so-called news organization, which has the same journalistic integrity as Russia Today. It’s just a fountain of Islamist lies. All of this amounts to a psyop on the West, and on Western education in particular. For decades, we have had Middle East Studies departments funded by Islamist theocrats and antisemites. Why have we tolerated this malicious exercise of soft power? It seems that money and oil are still just irresistible.

Students For Justice in Palestine, wrote the following in response to the atrocities of October 7th:

National liberation is near — glory to our resistance, to our martyrs, and to our steadfast people! … Resistance comes in all forms — armed struggle, general strikes, and popular demonstrations. All of it is legitimate, and all of it is necessary.

This was their immediate response in support of the intentional massacre of families and the taking of children as hostages, before Israel did anything in response. That’s the moral vision that inspired these campus protests.

However, direct funding by Islamist theocrats is only one strand of influence, as I’ll discuss. There is also the identitarian moral panic that has deluded the Left for years, which I have covered a lot on this podcast—which maps every conflict in the world to an oppressor-oppressed narrative. Again, I don’t want to exaggerate the scope of the problem. But it is pretty appalling that the largest student protest movement since the 1960s has distinguished itself by being this confused about what is really going on in the world, and is lending support to groups like Hamas, that represent the annihilation of everything these students should value.

The next time I see a job applicant from what used to be a great university—Harvard, Princeton, Yale, or even my own alma maters —Stanford and UCLA, which have been terrible—my first thought will be, were you one of these imbeciles who couldn’t figure out who the bad guys were on October 7th? Really, the brand damage to these institutions has been extraordinary.

We now know that hundreds of professors at these schools support Hamas—which again, is a genocidal death cult. That’s not my opinion; that is how Hamas describes itself. They want to kill all the Jews on Earth and to die as martyrs. That is the recipe for being an antisemitic, genocidal death cult. Any professor who supports Hamas should be fired—as you would fire any professor who openly supported the Nazis in the immediate aftermath of a Nazi atrocity. This is not a first amendment issue. No one has a constitutional right to be at Harvard, in any capacity.

And I can say with confidence, that the first good schools to accomplish a hard reset here—admitting that they have lost their way, purging the DEI bureaucracy and theocracy that they built over decades where the best of intentions grew malignant and metastasized… the first universities to fully reboot a commitment to Enlightenment values—No more money from Qatar, you idiots. No more stealth Islamism in your departments of Middle Eastern studies. No more reverse racism against Asian and White applicants. No more identitarian victim culture. No more dowsing for racists. No more whinging about Halloween costumes. No more intersectional arsonists pretending to put out fires that they started. Just great books, and great teachers, and real research, and no more fucking apologies… The first elite schools to do that, will win so much support and good will, and an avalanche of applications and donors, they’ll solidify their reputations into the next century.

I wouldn’t even know where I would want to send my daughters to college at this point. Happily, we don’t have to think about this for a couple of years. But all the best schools, and even the second and third best schools, appear to be in the process of destroying themselves. Again, I realize that it’s a minority of students protesting on even the most beleaguered campuses. But it’s the response of the institutions themselves that has been so reprehensible.

As a result of all this, there is a widespread sense in the Jewish community that more must be done to combat antisemitism. There is even a bill that just passed the House of Representatives, the “Antisemitism Awareness Act,” which would make it easier for Jews to make civil rights complaints. Unfortunately, this bill seems to conflate certain criticisms of Israel with antisemitism. I will grant that most people who claim to be anti-Zionist at this point are probably also antisemitic. This is pretty obvious from what they are saying and not saying. It used to be the case that you could be anti-Zionist without being antisemitic. My friend Christopher Hitchens certainly was that. And I was sort of that, at one point. But I’m not sure it’s a position one can truly occupy now.

October 7th changed my thinking on this. I remain uncomfortable with the concept of any sort of religious ethno-state. But given the murderous antisemitism of so much of the world, given that almost every country that has had a population of Jews has at some point actively persecuted them and driven them out—literally, almost any country you can name in Europe or North Africa or the Middle East had done this at some point. Given the tolerance of this reality by billions of onlookers—well, then the Jews clearly need their own state, and it should defend itself without apology. We have the two largest religions on Earth, Christianity and Islam, which encompass half of humanity, whose theology has reviled the Jews as eternal enemies for thousands of years. If half the world hated the Yazidis like this, and if much of what the world believed about them amounted to a deranged conspiracy theory, I would say that the Yazidis need their own state too. I’ll be happy to revisit the issue in a hundred years after we have made some moral progress. But until then, count me a committed Zionist.

However, I think talking about “Zionism” is totally counterproductive. We should talk about Israel’s right, as the lone democracy in the Middle East, to defend itself. I also think that focusing on antisemitism at this moment—as much as it really is a problem—is the wrong approach to addressing a much more fundamental problem: which is the hatred of Western civilization coming from so many of its own inhabitants and beneficiaries, and the very real clash between the West (which includes Israel every other civilized democracy) and Islam��in particular Islamism and Jihadism. Depending on the context we can call it “radical Islam” or “Islamic extremism” or “Islamofascism.” Call it whatever you want, but what you can’t do, honestly, is say that this species of belligerent lunacy has no connection to the mainstream religion of Islam.

Why do I think that a narrow focus on antisemitism is mistaken? There are many people on college campuses now who support Hamas—which is as antisemitic, on its face, as supporting the Nazis. However, I think that hating Jews is not really what many of these people are about. As I said, some of them are Jewish. So what explains their behavior? Well, they hate the West, or think they do. They hate Western power. In the American context, they hate Whiteness, perhaps above all—and they think the sin of racism subsumes everything. In the conflict between Israel and the Palestinians, they consider the Jews white and the Palestinians black. Is this utterly moronic? Yes, it is. At least half the Jews in Israel are Middle Eastern or North African in descent. The only black people you’ll find there are Ethiopian Jews, some of whom are fighting for the IDF. So kids, all your concern about white privilege, as you bounce between lacrosse practice and Starbucks is misapplied here. Should you be kicked out of Yale for being this stupid? Probably. But your stupidity is not quite the same as antisemitism.

Yes, antisemitism cuts across this landscape in ways that are very depressing, and I’m not seeking to minimize it. For instance, as you move rightward along the political spectrum, you meet more and more people who effortlessly recognize the derangement of the Left, and the sickening apologies for Islamic fanaticism that come from people who imagine that Harvey Weinstein is the worst person who ever lived—whereas there are whole societies in the Muslim world where a person like Weinstein would be considered unusually well-adjusted in his attitude towards women. The Left is still full of the sorts of people who blamed Salman Rushdie for the fatwa that forced him into hiding for a decade, and which finally got him nearly killed onstage in New York, after 33 years of looking over his shoulder. These are the same people who blamed the Charlie Hebdo cartoonists for having had the gall to get themselves murdered in Paris. These imbeciles on the Left range from current darlings of alternative media like Glenn Greenwald to members of elite institutions whose very purpose is to defend freedom of speech, like the PEN America Foundation.

As you move rightward in our politics, you meet more and more people who easily see the insanity of all this—words are violence but clitorectomies and suicide bombing is somehow indigenous wisdom and the voice of the oppressed? But then, of course, as you move further rightward you meet more and more people who hate Jews: As scheming globalists who want Americans to fight in foreign wars—perhaps today in defense of Israel, or Ukraine, which happens to be run by a Jew. But this allegation goes back to WW1 and WW2. Both world wars were instigated by Jews, don’t you know? This is Tucker Carlson’s audience—the Great Replacement cult. When things went sideways over at the Daily Wire, these are the geniuses who followed the crackpot Candace Owens into the abyss—and finally got a chance to tell Ben Shapiro what they really think of him and his fellow Jews.

But, of course, if you land on just the right spot on the Right, among old-school Evangelical Christians—then you can find people who can generally be counted upon to worry about the fate of the Jews, and who will defend Israel, which is a relief frankly. But their support comes with a strange twist—because they expect that when temple is finally rebuilt in Jerusalem, and Jesus returns—well, let’s just say he won’t be in a mood to debate the finer points of theology with the Jews. So, Evangelicals are philosemitic only up to a point.

So I don’t mean to downplay the reality of antisemitism. A vastly disproportionate amount of hate crime in the US is committed against Jews. It’s not against blacks, and it’s certainly not against Muslims, despite what the Islamist front group The Council on American Islamic Relations (CAIR) would have you believe. In fact, a lot of this crime comes from blacks and Muslims themselves, who just happen to do more than their fair share of hating Jews. Jews are about 2 percent of the population, and they have always received around 50 percent of the hate crime. Even after 9/11 they received far more hate than Muslims did in America. Since October 7th, the number of incidents has soared, and this is in response to the worst atrocity perpetrated against Jews since the Holocaust.

So if you’re Jewish, or even if you’re not, and you think all of this is seriously alarming, I think you’re right. And I’m sure I will do some future podcasts and other work on the problem of Antisemitism. But I also think that Jews should not try to compete in the Oppression Olympics that have deranged so much of Western culture. The direction of progress is not to convince the rest of America that we Jews have it worse than blacks and Muslims, or just as bad. And I don’t think the UK is going to sort itself out by becoming more focused on its Jewish population as a victim group. We simply have to get past the politics of identity. And we have to defend Western values. We have to defend, not identities, but the ideas that make freedom and tolerance possible. We have to recognize that there are real threats to freedom and tolerance in this world, and identity politics is one of them. Another happens to be coming from the fastest spreading religion on Earth which has some 2 billion adherents. Are all Muslims a threat to freedom and tolerance? No. But almost all of them are doing a terrible job of acknowledging, much less combating, the dangerous fanaticism that is seething at the core of their religion.

So I don’t think we need a new Jewish media platform to compete with the malicious fantasies that pour forth from Al-Jazeera, as harmful as those have been. We need the New York Times and BBC to become morally sane again. Again, I’m not suggesting that antisemitism isn’t a problem; I’m suggesting that a real defense of Western values would solve that problem, among many others.

Nevertheless, it is easy to see why some of our kids are confused about Gaza. They are being inundated with misinformation about Israel—that the Jews are settler colonialists, that they have built an apartheid state, that they are guilty of genocide. These lies didn’t start on October 8th. They’ve been promulgated for decades, and it seems that no matter how patiently one corrects them, nothing changes. And the photos coming out of Gaza certainly don’t help. As I’ve said before, there is no political analysis or moral argument that makes sense of images of dead children being pulled out of rubble.

It is also natural for people to look at the history of conflict between the Israelis and the Palestinians, and imagine that there is some moral parity between the two sides. In fact, because Israel has become more powerful, most people imagine that the responsibility for the ongoing conflict falls more on the Jews. Israel is now perceived to be the bully with advanced weaponry, and the Palestinians are merely victims, throwing rocks. Even in the aftermath of October 7th, when you have an avowedly genocidal organization like Hamas, butchering noncombatants and taking women and children hostage, and firing rockets by the thousands purposely into civilian areas, we still have vast numbers of Westerners—and a majority of our own youth, apparently—believing that Israel is in the wrong. And that it effectively has no right to defend itself, or to even exist.

Leaving other variables aside—like the identitarian disgrace of wokism, the oppressor-oppressed framing of everything that has become standard on the Left, as well as the frank anti-Semitism that we know is there—what we are seeing on our college campuses is only possible because people don’t understand the threat that Islamic extremism poses to open societies everywhere. Again, what’s happening on our college campuses is many things, but the level of moral confusion required to support Hamas and to demonize the people who are fighting Hamas, requires that one not recognize what Hamas is.

And in a way, this is also understandable. It is natural to imagine that people everywhere are more or less the same and that they basically want the same things in life. It is easy to see how one might think that normal people would never resort to violence of the sort we saw from Hamas on October 7th—burning families alive on purpose, raping women and cutting their breasts off and then killing them, and shrieking with joy all the while. Normal people wouldn’t do this, couldn’t do this, unless they have been subjected to some unendurable misery and injustice. They must have been driven insane by their own trauma. Let’s leave aside those who claim that those things didn’t actually happen on October 7th. Most people understand what happened, and yet given the assumption that people everywhere are more or less the same, the very extremity of the violence we saw on October 7th seems to put the moral onus on its victims, somehow.

And this weird distortion of moral intuition casts a shadow over the whole history of the Israeli/Palestinian conflict. The fact that the Palestinians could have produced an endless supply of suicide bombers during the Second Intifada—and that they would target noncombatants, even children, with this barbarism—that itself was considered proof that they had been pushed well beyond the brink by the Israelis. Otherwise, normal human beings would never behave in so extraordinarily destructive a way. It is easy to see how uninformed people could make this assumption. This was a very useful point that the writer Paul Berman made twenty years ago in his book, Terror and Liberalism.

Similarly, people assume that groups like Hamas, or al-Qaeda, or even the Islamic State, attack Western targets for more or less normal political reasons. They think these movements are anti-colonial, or straightforwardly nationalistic. And so they think that the extremity of their violence is once again, at bottom, the fault of Western powers. The chickens have finally come home to roost.

While understandable, these assumptions have been obviously wrong for decades—for longer than I have been alive even. To believe any of this now, as almost every secular person does by default, certainly as you move left of center politically, is to be totally deluded by a masochistic fantasy. And it is a dangerous fantasy because it is being consciously weaponized against, not just Israel, but against every western society. Islamic extremists know that most of us, especially in our elite institutions, are simply drunk on white guilt and self-doubt. They can see that we live in a perpetual circular firing squad of sanctimony. They know that if they just use the word “racism”—even though it has absolutely no application when we are talking about the fastest growing religion in a hundred countries—they know this word settles all arguments, left of center, no matter idiotic the person is who wields it. They know that we are constantly worried about being the bad guys. They know that our kids find it very easy to believe that we are and have always been the bad guys. And they have been manipulating Western society for decades. And they have been aided by legions of useful idiots on the Left.

And so there is a pervasive inability and even unwillingness on the part of journalists, and politicians, and scholars to recognize the degree to which sincere religious belief and identity drive conflict in the Muslim world—between rival sects and between Muslims and non-Muslims. There is a fundamental lack of understanding about how Islam differs from other religions here. In fact, it is widely considered a symptom of bigotry to even say that Islam is different from other religions in any way that matters.

There are over 50 Muslim-majority countries. None of them are good places to live if you care about human freedom. This is very unlikely to be an accident. Who would imagine that killing people for blasphemy or apostasy would have a chilling effect on free thought? Who would imagine that the explicit denial of political equality for women might have something to do with its absence throughout the Muslim world? Even noticing the connection here, between explicit religious doctrines and the unambiguous abridgement of human rights, is thought to be a symptom of “Islamophobia.”

I want to make a couple of basic observations about Islam, that have the virtue of being important and uncontroversial—or at least they should be uncontroversial, because they are quite obviously true.

And if you think I’ve said all this before, and it bores you—well then just think about how I feel. I wouldn’t touch this topic ever again, if I thought other people were doing an adequate job of it. There’s a spell that simply has to be broken here, because it threatens to ruin everything. And if you don’t see it, as so many don’t, you are just blind.

From the point of view of Islam, our world is divided into two realms: the realm of belief and the realm of unbelief. This is something that Islam shares with Christianity, of course, but the similarities pretty much end there. There is no “render unto Caesar those things that are Caesar’s” in Islam. Rather, Islam is meant to totally subsume a person’s life and the governance of society. It is intrinsically political. Therefore, the modern distinction, upon which so many of us have placed our hopes, between Islam and Islamism—which is the explicit intrusion of the religion into politics—is just that, a modern distinction. It is one that we hope can be made true and effective—and we hope that the latter orientation, that of 20th century, aggressively resurgent political Islam, can be resisted and ultimately extinguished in modern societies. But this secular distinction has little traditional justification, if any. This is where the differences between Islam and Christianity become highly relevant, and ominous.

Take a moment to consider this, as though for the first time:

Muhammad wasn’t the Muslim Jesus. It’s important to notice that the man was not crucified. He was a statesman and a warlord. He fought in dozens of battles and was victorious. And in Islam, Muhammad is the very model of the ideal man. Just imagine how Christianity might be different if Jesus routinely had his enemies killed and their wives taken as sex slaves. You think it might be just a little different? Do you think Christianity might be just a little different if Jesus had been less like a hippie with a steady supply of MDMA and more like Tony Soprano?

The first Muslims didn’t spend centuries, as the early Christians did, as outsiders being oppressed by their unbelieving masters. They tasted political power from the very beginning. The first Muslims created an empire more or less immediately after the death of the Prophet, and then they just crushed everyone for 500 years. Unlike Judaism, Islam enjoins its followers to spread their faith—the one true and completely correct faith—to the ends of the Earth. Christianity is also a relentlessly missionary faith, of course, but from its inception, it was a religion of weakness—again, Christ was crucified. “Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the Earth,” remember? Islam, from the first moment, was a religion of power. The idea of non-Muslims ruling over Muslims, or even having equivalent power alongside them perpetually, has always been anathema. It’s an error to be rectified, through spiritual struggle, sure, but also through physical violence. The fact that Islam has failed to achieve dominance in our world—and has proven, for nearly a thousand years, to be quite backward and weak—is a perennial source of humiliation. By the light of the doctrine, it makes absolutely no sense. It is a sacrilege. From the point of view of Islam, the status quo is intolerable.

And this general attitude of affronted dignity, this yearning for victory, which century after century has been out of reach, affects everything that Islam touches. It is why the history of peace negotiations between Israel and the Palestinians has been so hopeless. Have the Israelis made mistakes? Of course. Do the Jews have their own religious fanatics? Yes. But the peace process between the Israelis and the Palestinians has been rendered hopeless from the start because for a majority of Palestinians, and for vast numbers of Muslims in the region, the mere presence of a Jewish state in the holy land is totally unacceptable. It’s a “nakba”—a catastrophe. It is a perversion of a sacred history. And it is an abject failure of the mission of Islam—which is to conquer the world for the glory of God. And, above all, to never forsake Muslim lands once they have been conquered, which of course Palestine once was. As it is said in the Koran, “Kill them wherever you find them and drive them from the places from which they drove you.” This is not a religion of peace, it is a religion of conquest and submission.

There is a lot to criticize in all religions. And I have certainly done my fair share of that. But it is simply a fact that the doctrine of holy war and a love of martyrdom—and an utter intolerance for blasphemy and apostasy—are central to Islam in a way that they are not central to other religions.

Of course, not all Muslims want to live this way, and that is wonderful. That’s why our world isn’t in total chaos. But the problem is that when you look at the worst examples of jihadist barbarism and atrocity—the behavior of Hamas on October 7th, or the Islamic State on every day of the year—it is very difficult to say how these people are getting Islam wrong. To be clear, I’m not saying that there is only one Islam, and that the extremists have it right. I’m saying that they don’t have it obviously wrong. Their version of the faith is all-too-plausible.

What did the worst members of the Islamic State do that Muhammad himself didn’t do or wouldn’t have approved of? That is a very difficult question to answer. And the fact that is a difficult question to answer, is increasingly a problem for the entire world. If you ask the same question about Jesus or Buddha, it’s a very easy question to answer. What is Hamas doing that Jesus or Buddha didn’t do or wouldn’t have approved of? Everything.

I recently stumbled upon an article in The New York Times from 15 years ago. I doubt the Times would publish such an article today. It’s very short, so I’m going to read you the whole thing.

Fighter Sees His Paradise in Gaza’s Pain

By Taghreed El-Khodary

Jan. 8, 2009

GAZA CITY

The emergency room in Shifa Hospital is often a place of gore and despair. On Thursday, it was also a lesson in the way ordinary people are squeezed between suicidal fighters and a military behemoth.

Dr. Awni al-Jaru, 37, a surgeon at the hospital, rushed in from his home here, dressed in his scrubs. But he came not to work. His head was bleeding, and his daughter’s jaw was broken.

He said Hamas militants next to his apartment building had fired mortar and rocket rounds. [Notice the detail here: next to his apartment building] Israel fired back with force, and his apartment was hit. His wife, Albina, originally from Ukraine, and his 1-year-old son were killed.

“My son has been turned into pieces,” he cried. “My wife was cut in half. I had to leave her body at home.” Because Albina was a foreigner, she could have left Gaza with her children. But, Dr. Jaru lamented, she would not leave him behind.

A car arrived with more patients. One was a 21-year-old man with shrapnel in his left leg who demanded quick treatment. He turned out to be a militant with Islamic Jihad. He was smiling a big smile.

“Hurry, I must get back so I can keep fighting,” he told the doctors.

He was told that there were more serious cases than his, that he needed to wait. But he insisted. “We are fighting the Israelis,” he said. “When we fire we run, but they hit back so fast. We run into the houses to get away.” He continued smiling.

“Why are you so happy?” this reporter asked. “Look around you.”

A girl who looked about 18 screamed as a surgeon removed shrapnel from her leg. An elderly man was soaked in blood. A baby a few weeks old and slightly wounded looked around helplessly. A man lay with parts of his brain coming out. His family wailed at his side.

“Don’t you see that these people are hurting?” the militant was asked.

“But I am from the people, too,” he said, his smile incandescent. “They lost their loved ones as martyrs. They should be happy. I want to be a martyr, too.”

That’s the end of the article.

This is the problem. We don’t have to get into a time machine and sort out the history of the region. We don’t have to talk about 1948 or 1967. Without this specific form of religious fanaticism, the conflict between Israel and her neighbors would be an ordinary conflict. It would be easy enough to negotiate. It would be possible for the Jews and Muslims to decide to build wealth together. They could have turned Gaza into an absolutely gorgeous resort on the Mediterranean. If all you care about is the well-being of the Palestinians, you should want them to be free of this lunatic ideology that has made them impossible to live with.

But for some reason, most academics and journalists refuse to recognize what is being revealed in an article like this. They desperately want to think that specific religious doctrines—like the idea that martyrs go straight to Paradise—are either not believed by anyone, or if believed, have no effect on a person’s behavior. This is without question the most mystifying and infuriating form of ignorance I have ever encountered.

Of course, we all desperately want to believe that there is a clear line of distinction between the real fanatics, in a group like Hamas, and the Palestinian people. And this will be true for many Palestinians, I have no doubt. Those people are effectively hostages. But it’s not true for all Palestinians, and it’s probably not even true for most of them. For instance, whenever polled, support for suicide bombing against civilians has always been sickeningly high among Palestinians—around 70 percent. Support for specific terrorist groups like Hamas and Hezbollah generally ranges between 40 and 60 percent. So we’re not talking about just a few radicals.

Have you seen the videos of Israeli hostages being taken into Gaza on October 7th? The images of blood covered girls being dragged into vehicles and onto motorcycles? Have you seen the men swarming around these hostages, celebrating their capture, shouting Allahu Akbar? Put yourself in the minds of these men. Perhaps you can understand all this jubilance and malice being expressed over captured male soldiers—like the Black Hawk Down incident in Somalia. But imagine celebrating the kidnapping of girls—some whom have clearly been raped and seriously injured. In one of these videos, a young woman appears to have had her Achilles tendons cut so that she can’t run away. Imagine celebrating the capture of a terrified woman holding her children. Can you imagine this?

After 9/11, as an American, traumatized by an act of terror of a sort that we had never seen on our shores, imagine if Seal Team Six had captured some random Saudi women and children and paraded them as hostages through Times Square? Can you imagine dancing for joy and spitting in the faces of these terrified women? Imagine our soldiers dragging the mutilated bodies of other Saudi noncombatants along the sidewalk. Can you imagine people coming out of their offices and shrieking with joy and stomping on their bodies? Can you imagine Israelis doing this to the bodies of Palestinian noncombatants in the streets of Tel Aviv? No, you can’t. Culture matters. Beliefs matter. So whether they belong to the organization or not, the people you see in those videos are the same as Hamas.

Once again, I need to touch the handrail here, so you all don’t fall over: Am I saying that all Muslims are dangerous fanatics? No. Are they all aspiring martyrs committed to waging jihad? Of course not. And that is a very good thing. Do all Christians believe in the physical resurrection of Jesus? I am sure that many, many millions at this point don’t. It is, after all, getting harder and harder to believe such things. But it is, nevertheless, true to say that a belief in the physical Resurrection is absolutely core to Christianity. This is not controversial. It’s like saying Apple builds smartphones. Any debate on that topic is a fake debate. You want to be a Christian who thinks that the Resurrection was just spiritual, or metaphorical? Great. You’ve changed the religion. You’re making progress. We love you for it.

Any debate about whether Islam really teaches, at its core, a worldview that justifies the barbarism of Hamas, is a fake debate, because Islam does teach this. And much depends on the majority of Muslims worldwide reframing, and ignoring, or otherwise relinquishing some of the core tenets of Islam. Because they are absolutely at odds with our common project of building open, pluralistic societies. Acknowledging this and demanding that Muslims themselves acknowledge this is not bigotry. It is basic sanity. The opposition between radical Islam and Western values is an existential concern for Israel, and it could one day become an existential concern for the rest of us.

Am I saying that things are hopeless? No. In fact, it is a very hopeful sign that several middle eastern regimes appear to want normalized relations with Israel at this point. And the fact that the Saudis and Jordanians helped repel Iran’s recent drone and missile attack on Israel was also very promising. However, the fact that Arab monarchs and dictators can see the wisdom of changing their policies toward Israel does not mean that attitudes have changed on the so-called “Arab street”—and what the street will tolerate will limit what even dictators can do. These attitudes will, once again, be massively informed by Islam. There is also the fact that any Arab solidarity with Israel against Iran might have less to do with truly shared human values, and more to do with the sectarian schism between Sunni and Shia Islam. But if these autocrats want to drag their countries into the modern world, I’m certainly rooting for them.

However, the deeper principle is that there is a clash of civilizations between traditional Islam and Western values. And what we are seeing on college campuses is a very successful manipulation of Western weakness—wherein we can have our values of tolerance and diversity and self-criticism and compassion weaponized against us.

Ask yourself: What is it that we want and are right to want, and must defend without apology, in the West? Rational conversation, individual freedom, the rule of law, the consent of the governed, the peaceful transfer of power, a strong civil society, and yes, tolerance of difference—where that difference doesn’t put all other good things in peril. What do these good things give us? They give us open societies, where scientific progress, and creative intelligence, and increasing wealth, and social mobility, and personal security, and public justice, and a healthy environment, and institutional transparency, and a generous social safety net are, more and more, the norm. Obviously, we have imperfectly secured these goods, even in the best societies on Earth. But it is just as obvious that some places have none of them—and worse, some people, some groups, and even whole cultures don’t want most of these things. It is time to admit that not everyone wants a good life as you and I understand it. “Hey kids, Hamas does not want what you want. They would throw your LGBTQ+ friends off rooftops. And, I’m sorry to say, many Palestinians want what Hamas wants.” This is a hard truth, and it has made peace in the Middle East so far impossible.

The people of the future, and perhaps our future selves, will know what we can’t know now: which is, how we handled this moment: how or whether we rose to the challenge of having our deepest principles used against us. Carefully inverted and used against us—freedom of speech, tolerance of diversity, self doubt—these virtues can be used against their adherents cynically and with evil intent. That is what Islamic extremists are doing all over the world. That is what their organizations are doing inside our own societies. This is not a conspiracy theory. This has all been publicly visible for decades. And they are being facilitated by useful idiots, as is now especially evident on our college campuses.

Of course, we are also being played by Russia and China and perhaps other hostile foreign actors who are fanning the flames of our own partisanship and hysteria. But part of that hysteria is that many of us now perceive any effort to limit the spread of misinformation and social contagion to be the first signs of Orwellian repression from our own government. We live in a country where people go berserk whenever they learn that the government can access information, through a court order, that they themselves routinely give to random apps and other services just for the sake of convenience. It is utterly childish to imagine that our interests as a nation are best served by total institutional distrust—where we have people like Edward Snowden and Julian Assange hacking and leaking state secrets continuously. Most people haven’t spent five minutes imagining the gravity of what must be in every US President’s daily briefing. We have to grow up and do what it takes to protect our society from people and groups and foreign adversaries that actually want to destroy it.

Of course, it’s true that fighting terror and confusion can put the very freedoms we seek to protect in jeopardy. It is also true that in the presence of sufficient terror and confusion, we will embrace a regime of surveillance, and censorship, and even violence that could seem to justify the fears of every conspiracy theorist—and make it seem that the real threat to liberty is coming from our own side, from our own institutions and from our own government. We have to perform this highwire act successfully.

We can’t forget our actual values. Take immigration: Providing sanctuary to real refugees fleeing violence, and welcoming immigrants who are seeking better lives, and who want to build those lives in the West, is one of our core humanitarian values. We don’t want to get rid of that. Emma Lazarus’s poem inspired by the Statue of Liberty, which is now inscribed on a plaque there: “Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free!” That’s not just sentimental bullshit. That's the best of America. It’s never quite been our immigration policy. It’s always been aspirational. But we want to be a country that is strong enough and generous enough to be a light unto the rest of the world. Emma Lazarus, incidentally, was Jewish. The Great Replacement started there, fellas, with the Statue of Liberty. (You might want to get on that, Tucker. That’s your bread and butter right there.)

The question is how can open societies like ours maintain their values, and even improve them, in a world where we have real enemies? You don’t have to be a xenophobe or a Christian Nationalist or a Nazi or any other species of asshole to recognize that some people are coming into our societies with no intention of ever sharing our values. Again, this is about culture—ideas and their consequences—not the color of people’s skin. If we imported a sufficient number of communists into the United States, it would be no surprise if we one day discovered that we had a problem with communists seeking to demolish the very foundations of our economy. And it would serve us right—they were wearing their antipathy for capitalism on their sleeves the whole time. They were telling us, ad nauseam, what they want to accomplish—the destruction of capitalism. How could we be surprised if a massive influx of committed communists eventually posed a threat to our way of life? Similarly, if we import a sufficient number of Islamists and jihadists, we will eventually have a problem with political and militant Islam. This is guaranteed. And to my eye, much of Western Europe already has this problem to a degree that it should find intolerable.

It is completely rational, and not at all an expression of bigotry, as an American, to not want to follow Western Europe down that path. Does this mean that I was in favor of Trump’s idiotic ban on Muslim immigration? No. Given that we need to win a war of ideas within the Muslim community, given that we need to inoculate Western societies against Islamic extremism, some of the most valuable immigrants we could have, in my view, are truly secular Muslims, truly liberal Muslims, and above all ex-Muslims. We want people who come from Muslim-majority societies and who understand exactly why life in those societies is not as good as it is in the West—not just because we have more money, but because we have better values. We want people from Pakistan and Iran who are appalled by religious fanaticism. Put these people at the front of the line. There is not a shred of xenophobia, or bigotry, much less racism, implied by anything I have said on this podcast.

But let’s not lie to ourselves that our societies can absorb an endless number of profoundly ideological people who only feign tolerance of diversity because they are in a position of weakness—and who, when strong, will seek to impose their religious strictures on everyone else. The truth is, Islamists (to say nothing of jihadists) seek to impose their religion on everyone else even from a position of weakness. And Western Europe has been groaning under that pressure for decades.

As with immigration, so it is with free speech: I think the US is in a much better position than other country because we have the First Amendment. But the First Amendment isn’t a perfect guide for private platforms and publishers in deciding what speech to disseminate, or to amplify algorithmically, or to sponsor. We are simply drowning in lies that are rendering our society increasingly ungovernable. This problem exists equally, if differently, on both sides of our political landscape. Right of center, some of the most prominent voices in alternative media regularly launder Russian propaganda—about elections, and US foreign policy, and the War in Ukraine, and vaccines. Left of center, there is almost pure confusion about Israel and its enemies. At our best universities, we are witnessing a zombie apocalypse of profoundly misinformed kids. Of course, broadcasting divisive lies is generally legal, because it is protected by the first amendment. But that doesn’t mean private platforms and civil society organizations shouldn’t do something to contain the problem.

As I’ve said many times before, if liberals remain confused about Islamic extremism, the appetite for rightwing authoritarianism is going to continue to grow throughout the West. We need to do everything we can to avoid this.

#Sam Harris #hamas #hamas supporters #pro hamas #israel #palestine #pro palestine #terrorism supporters #islam #islamic terrorism #authoritarianism #islamism #jihadism #jihad

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mariana-oconnor · 2 years ago

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The Yellow Face pt 2

Last time I was possibly overly critical of Mr Grant (or Jack?) Munro who was not dealing with his wife's curious behaviour very calmly. I stand by the fact that barging into people's houses in a fit of fury is very much not a good response to thinking your wife is lying, but I guess we'll see if I'm right.

“It seemed to be of an unnatural color, and to have a strange rigidity about the features. When I approached, it vanished with a jerk.”

An unnatural colour. Yes, both 'chalky white' and 'livid yellow' at the same time. I didn't bring this up the first time, but I probably should have. Was the face white or yellow? The title of the story indicates yellow, but the first description definitely, clearly, stated 'white'.

“Have you ever seen a photograph of her first husband?” “No; there was a great fire at Atlanta very shortly after his death, and all her papers were destroyed.” “And yet she had a certificate of death. You say that you saw it.” “Yes; she got a duplicate after the fire.”

A lot of very convenient events right there. And of course the death certificate comes up again - although now there is indication that it might be erroneous. I didn't know until recently that apparently you can just go to the hospital where you were born in the UK and say 'I've lost my birth certificate, I need another one.' I assume there is more to it than that, but I can't imagine there was in the 1880s. 'Hey, my husband died of Yellow Fever and I lost his death certificate in a fire, can I get a new one please. Yes, his name was Coen Siddence?"

"Let me advise you, then, to return to Norbury, and to examine the windows of the cottage again. If you have reason to believe that it is inhabited, do not force your way in, but send a wire to my friend and me."

Don't force your way into the other people's house. Good advice there from Holmes. He only follows it sometimes himself, but I do appreciate that he's being clear on this front. Do not break and enter, Mr Munro.

“I am afraid that this is a bad business, Watson,” said my companion, as he returned after accompanying Mr. Grant Munro to the door. “What do you make of it?” “It had an ugly sound,” I answered. “Yes. There’s blackmail in it, or I am much mistaken.” “And who is the blackmailer?”

OK, so probably not her kid. Probably her former husband who isn't actually dead, I guess. Because the death certificate which was so very specifically mentioned is not real.

“Yes, a provisional one. But I shall be surprised if it does not turn out to be correct. This woman’s first husband is in that cottage.”

Welp, theory 1 it is. Theory 2 has been thrown out of the window.

Her husband developed some hateful qualities; or shall we say that he contracted some loathsome disease, and became a leper or an imbecile?

Holmes... I'm not going to bother to unpack that but... okay then.

Right the term imbecile was one of those that used to refer to a very specific level of IQ and apparently there was also considered to be such a thing as 'moral imbecility' which was believed to be connected to genetic criminality and part of eugenics (hoooooo boy). Basically I don't really know what it means in this context, but I'm guessing he's going for the moral meaning rather than an IQ issue as I doubt someone with "a mental age of three to seven years" would really be hatching a dastardly blackmailing plot. Although my nephew can be particularly cunning sometimes in his attempts to get more cake, and he's younger than that, so... what do I know?

HOWEVER.

After all of this, we have to remember that this story started by saying the Holmes was wrong.

So maybe I'm right after all. Hidden child is back on the table, boys!

I was going to put the 'looks like meat's back on the menu boys LotR gif here, but decided implied cannibalism of theoretical disabled children is probably not the best idea I've ever had, so have this gif of Jeremy Brett as Holmes instead.

"She has been married three years, and believes that her position is quite secure, having shown her husband the death certificate of some man whose name she has assumed, when suddenly her whereabouts is discovered by her first husband; or, we may suppose, by some unscrupulous woman who has attached herself to the invalid."

Ah, no... the blackmailer in Holmes version is the northern woman who opened the door and wasn't particularly welcoming. Though it makes no sense why she'd be from northern Britain when the husband would, presumably, have been cared for in the US and she would, also presumably, have had to come over from there with him in order to hunt down his wife.

So she's either really good at accents or... she was British to begin with and knew them over there...?

Taking down with her the photograph which had probably been demanded from her.

This is a very weird demand if Holmes' theory is correct. The photo was one of the things that made me think it was a child, because giving your child a picture of you to look at is just... a nice thing. Taking a photo of the woman you're blackmailing is... I guess it's a control thing, or a weird stalkery thing.

"...on which the wife, knowing that he would come straight down to the cottage, hurried the inmates out at the back door, into the grove of fir-trees..."

Again, a strange detail for the blackmailing plot. This implies that Effie would have had some sort of control over her blackmailers. Surely they would be more likely to stay? Her husband wouldn't recognise the guy, by his own admission. Or they'd leave of their own volition, surely. But allowing their blackmailee to smuggle them from the house seems very weird.

But we had not a very long time to wait for that. It came just as we had finished our tea. “The cottage is still tenanted,” it said. “Have seen the face again at the window. Will meet the seven o’clock train, and will take no steps until you arrive.”

A round of applause, please, for Mr Munro's self control, which appears to have finally returned to him.

“What is your plan, then?” asked Holmes, as he walked down the dark tree-lined road. “I am going to force my way in and see for myself who is in the house. I wish you both to be there as witnesses.”

It was a brief reunion, alas.

“For God’s sake, don’t Jack!” she cried. “I had a presentiment that you would come this evening. Think better of it, dear! Trust me again, and you will never have cause to regret it.” “I have trusted you too long, Effie,” he cried, sternly. “Leave go of me! I must pass you. My friends and I are going to settle this matter once and forever!” He pushed her to one side, and we followed closely after him. As he threw the door open an old woman ran out in front of him and tried to bar his passage, but he thrust her back

Effie... please just talk to your husband. Clearly the 'trust me' line isn't working. Just... like... tell him. I really hope you married someone you can trust. Although, given... y'know, Victorian era etc. maybe you didn't. But communication is a really good strategy.

Jack, Grant... Grack, whatever your name is... Just.. stop barging into people's homes. And telling your wife you don't trust her like that is a dick mood. You need to calm down and talk this through, too.

In the corner, stooping over a desk, there sat what appeared to be a little girl. Her face was turned away as we entered, but we could see that she was dressed in a red frock, and that she had long white gloves on.

Hidden child. HA!

Also... Grack you just frightened a child. I hope you're happy with yourself, you great numpty.

Holmes, with a laugh, passed his hand behind the child’s ear, a mask peeled off from her countenance.

First - mask! Ha again! I mean... you really shouldn't touch the kid's mask without permission, Holmes.

I... did not expect the mask to be hiding the fact that the kid is Black. But I live in the 21st century, I guess. Yeah...

I burst out laughing, out of sympathy with her merriment; but Grant Munro stood staring, with his hand clutching his throat.

At least she's laughing too, I guess. But Grack, you need to prove yourself not a terrible person pretty damn quick. I still have a few shreds of faith in you.

She touched a spring, and the front hinged back. There was a portrait within of a man strikingly handsome and intelligent-looking, but bearing unmistakable signs upon his features of his African descent.

Well that's a super sideways way to describe his race, particularly after the choice of words to describe the kid. Also, hello racist implications of that 'but' right there. Le sigh. This story is really pulling a bait and switch by calling itself 'The Yellow Face', isn't it. You expect racism against one group of people but Surprise! it's about another.

"When I left her in America,” she continued, “it was only because her health was weak, and the change might have done her harm. She was given to the care of a faithful Scotch woman who had once been our servant."

Not going to touch the colourism of the passage before this with a barge pole. That's a whole heap of ugh that I do not have the historical or personal understanding to unpack in a way the subject deserves.

Also, the woman is apparently Scottish, not just vaguely 'Northern'. It does read as a Scottish accent when I look back on it, but still. Coming from someone living in Norbury, which is in South London, 'Northern' could mean anything higher than Watford! Northern? How vague can you be?

(Incidentally if someone from Berwick-Upon-Tweed calls you Southern, it can mean anything south of Sunderland. The Midlands of England is Schroedinger's land. It lives in a permanent superposition of being both The North and The South. Your interpretation depends entirely on which direction you're looking at it from.)

"But when chance threw you in my way, Jack, and I learned to love you, I feared to tell you about my child. God forgive me, I feared that I should lose you, and I had not the courage to tell you. I had to choose between you, and in my weakness I turned away from my own little girl."

Dick move, Effie. On so many points. My theory was waaaaay more charitable to you than you deserved apparently.

"At last, however, there came an overwhelming desire to see the child once more. I struggled against it, but in vain."

Shucks. You wanted to see the child you abandoned. How terrible.

This little girl deserves so much better.

“We can talk it over more comfortably at home,” said he. “I am not a very good man, Effie, but I think that I am a better one than you have given me credit for being.”

That... is optimistic. I mean... you're essentially just walking out on the little girl immediately. But he seems to be saying that he's not racist, at least. So yay for that?

That poor kid. For so many reasons.

EDIT: It has been pointed out to me that I missed a paragraph when I was reading, where he picks up the little girl:

It was a long two minutes before Grant Munro broke the silence, and when his answer came it was one of which I love to think. He lifted the little child, kissed her, and then, still carrying her, he held his other hand out to his wife and turned towards the door.

OK! Far more satisfying ending if your brain doesn't skip a paragraph. D'oh!

That's really sweet. You have redeemed yourself Grack. Still have those anger and trust issues to deal with, but this is good. I approve. And I approve that Watson approves. Yay. There is a happy ending.

Still some marital issues, though.

Not another word did he say of the case until late that night, when he was turning away, with his lighted candle, for his bedroom. “Watson,” said he, “if it should ever strike you that I am getting a little over-confident in my powers, or giving less pains to a case than it deserves, kindly whisper ‘Norbury’ in my ear, and I shall be infinitely obliged to you.

I remember this ending. I like this little nod to Holmes being aware of his own failings. And his trusting of Watson to keep him in line.

Well... I was right. And I absolutely allowed ACD to manipulate me into feeling smug for having beaten Holmes to the punchline. I was not expecting the race reveal, sure. But I think I can be forgiven for that. Effie needs to take a long hard look at herself in the mirror. Grack needs to sit down and deal with his temper problems. And that little girl needs to not be forced to wear a mask and gloves and stay inside all day.

Also, both Effie and Grack need to learn to trust each other. I get different time period, different attitudes, different expectations, but maybe you shouldn't marry a person if you can't tell him about your kid? And maybe talk to your wife rather than going full on B&E?

#Letters from Watson #Sherlock Holmes #The Yellow Face #long post

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firelord-frowny · 1 year ago

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yall i just read about THE WORSTTTT true crime case i have ever heard of oh my GOD oh my GOD!!!!!!!! trigger warning for murder and poop???????????

ok so. i had actually heard about the case several years ago when the boy's body still hadn't been found yet, but the boy's father was Very Suspicious, to the point where the boy's mom was sure he had something to do with his disappearance. the boy had ~vanished~ during a court-ordered visit to his father's house.

well, something today reminded me of the case, so i decided to give it a google and see if the boy's body was ever found and/or if the dad was ever charged with the crime.

the answer to both questions is yes. partial remains were found close to the father's house, and the father was arrested and charged and convicted.

so like.

the fact that a young boy was murdered by his own father is bad enough. it's horrifying. it's awful to even think about.

but the MOTIVE????

oh my god.

the MOTIVE!!!!!!!!!!

oh my GOD!!!!!

listen.

apparently.

the father killed him in a 'fit of rage' after the boy confronted him with pictures he found...

OF HIS DAD EATING SHIT IN A DIAPER??????

WHAT! THE! HELL!!!!!!

apparently the boy and his brother had found the pictures on the dad's laptop by accident some time prior??? And took pictures of it on their phones with the intention of using them as leverage against the dad in the ongoing custody battle between the dad and the mom??? which, considering that the fucking weirdo KILLED HIS OWN SON, i'd say that the boys had good reason to not want him to have custody of them!

just oh my goddddddddddddddddddddddd.

disgusting!!!

also, not that it fucking matters, but the article i read (or more like Skimmed Through With Conviction because i couldnt stomach letting my eyes linger on the words for any longer than absolutely necessary) wasn't super clear about whether the dad was eating shit "in a diaper" as in the shit is in a diaper and he's eating out of it like a plate, or if he's just eating shit in general while he's WEARING a diaper. but like. both options are somehow more disgusting than each other omfg so it doesnt even matterrrrrrr.

omfggg. i was gonna say 'can you imagine???' but no. PLEASE dont imagine!!!!

i hope he feels like a fucking nasty ass imbecile!!!

like, you're gonna go and murder your own child to try to avoid the world finding out that you're a diaper wearing, shit eating weirdo, only for the whole world to find out that you're a diaper wearing shit eating weirdo anyway! and not ONLY are you a diaper wearing shit eating weirdo, but you're a CHILD MURDERING diaper wearing shit eating weirdo!!!! disgusting!!!! sickening!!! demonic!!!!

omfg you shoulda just taken the fucking L and sat in the humiliation of having your gross kink outed to your friends and family instead of adding Child Murder to your list of disgusting things you've done!!!

like damn, people can forgive gross kinks as long as you're not hurting anybody and you're keeping it private. some people might even feel sorry for you if/when your gross kink gets outed without your consent!

but nobody forgives child murder! you fucking psychopath!!!

ew! ew! ew! ew! ew! ew! ew! ew! ew!

they probably have him under a false identity in prison omfg people probably think he's in for shooting a taxi driver or something bc you just knooooooooooooooooooowwwwwwwwww that the Child Murdere Who Eats Shit would not be well-liked in prison omfgggg.

i kinda sorta highkey hope he offs himself like he shoulda done in the first damn place if the thought of being outed as a shit eating weirdo was soooooooooooooooooooooooo unbearable to him.

like, don't murder your child just because YOU cant cope with your own fucking shame!

you coulda gone to therapy!

you coulda packed your shit up and skipped town and changed your name!

and as a last fucking resort you could have blown your own damn brains out in lieu of killing your son you SICK FUCK oh my god! oh my god! oh my god! im so disgusted! im so angry for the lil boy! and i hope the dad suffers every day for the rest of his life oh my goddddd. oh my GOD i hope he's miserable. i hope the shame and humiliation is neverending. if there's one thing more embarrassing than being a diaper wearing shit eater, it's being a diaper wearing shit eater who tried to keep it a secret by murdering his own child only to be found out anyway.

what a TERRIBLE, TERRIBLE, TERRIBLE reason to be murdered :( that poor boy.

#google 'mark redwine' if you want sources

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luanrabelo123 · 2 years ago

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Surely one of the most moronic things I see is how the Undertale fandom is how they defend Toriel, for the simple fact that Asgore killed the 6 "innocent" children, not all of whom were innocent. Some weapons had some very peculiar descriptions, as did the other souls. And also people defend the fact that he wanted to exterminate humanity, but we all know who started this whole war was the human beings themselves, they were the ones who imprisoned the monsters because the monsters had the ability to use their souls and have an immeasurable power, able even to kill countless humans, but not all. Why am I saying this? Well, because of the simple fact that Toriel said that he needed a human soul to go through and get the other souls, she gave a justification saying that if the Asgore really wanted to free his people, and we know very well that the Asgore only declared the war because of a moment of anger, he never really wanted to start a war, but he couldn't really undo this declaration, because the monsters needed to have hope, since if he doesn't they literally fall and then die...

Toriel is just an idiot, and look she considered the head of the throne... another bull, surely if she was the head of the throne she wouldn't have taken such tragic measures without thinking. She simply abandoned her own people and her husband... and she really didn't even care about the monsters anymore, we can see this because she considers all monsters outside the ruins as the Asgore, only less worse, and also she doesn't care much about the monsters in the ruins (apparently). Because you can kill one in front of her and she doesn't even care if you killed it or not, and she considers the monsters in the ruins as "pacifist"... imagine if they weren't, I even wonder why she just appeared out of nowhere at the end of the game. This woman is really an imbecile, and probably nothing but a crazy person who thinks all these children would be something like Chara, considering them as her little "children".

What pisses me off most about the fandom is... bro? Who cares about those kids, simply nobody... fuck the humans of Undertale, they trapped the monsters and killed their kids, I know it was because they didn't know it was happening and what Chara was dying and all... but still, they made the monsters suffer and killed many in the war. What are 7 human souls compared to that? Simply insignificant. You are all just small-headed and moronic, "ain, he killed 6 human souls and blah blah blah". It is not consistent in the situations the monsters were in and caused by the humans themselves. Are you people dumb? Or do you just play dumb? for children who were not really that innocent... and that everyone would go home and surely kill Asgore (since you need a boss soul to be able to get out from underground)

The only mistake Asgore, which is really a mistake was the decision to have given the false hope, but I really don't blame him that much, since after everything happened and he the one who was most hopeless... he suffered the most, probably even more than Sans, after all... it was his responsibility and he was already more destroyed than several monsters... as people called them... "fallen king". And also his "mistake" was his experiments with the monsters themselves, for not investigating and observing as much, as Toriel did after some neutral endings, this was not wrong, since they had consents from the monsters and were trying to save them, and also to try to bring Asriel back and possibly even Chara(?).

Well, that's it... I really don't understand how Toriel thinks and how she wanted him to free his "people" and still in quotes supporting Asgore to take 6 human souls? Probably from people who are not children? Could it be that in her mind, children are totally innocent beings because of Asriel and Chara, even created this madness of monsters and humans living peacefully without this little bickering anymore? Just for two beings that became friends and brothers? Not everyone is like that, and this thinking of hers is pathetic, she is just a hypocrite who puts her mistakes and failures on others, unlike Asgore who knows he is "wrong" and is even reluctant to fight with the player, throwing even some random fire attacks for him not to hit you, he is not even using the souls or trying to kill you for real, he holds back, so much that he still give you a chance to survive with 1 of HP, because he thinks he doesn't deserve mercy...

He is definitely the most complex among the characters. And let's remember that Asgore can remember a little bit about timelines. Since when you told him, he seems to remember a little, but nothing really compared to Sans.

Nevertheless, I still ship them...

#asgore #undertale #toriel

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pesterloglog · 11 months ago

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John Egbert, Jane Crocker, Rose Lalonde, Terezi Pyrope

Act 6, page 7697-7699

JOHN: what do you think they are talking about over there?

JANE: I suspect Roxy wanted some time to catch up with an old friend.

JANE: I'm sure I would want the same, if I hadn't just had an extensive reunion with her myself.

JOHN: yeah, i guess we should just chill out and give them a moment.

JOHN: it isn't QUITE time to head to our battle stations yet, so we might as well try to relax until it is.

ROSE: I imagine it's a lot easier to relax when another version of yourself hasn't been hijacked by your dead cat.

JOHN: heheh, yeah, it probably is.

JOHN: maybe you should try not to let her bug you, rose. she seems harmless enough.

JOHN: plus, she's pretty funny!

ROSE: Sounds suspiciously like the advice of someone who's never had to deal with an outlandish alternate version of himself.

JOHN: hey, i've bumped into other johns a few times!

JOHN: can't say the experience has been anything other than perfectly agreeable. :p

ROSE: You mean, Johns that were essentially time duplicates? In the course of your retcon quest?

JOHN: yes.

ROSE: Those don't count. Those were just regular Johns.

ROSE: What I'm saying is, you never had to deal with the John who was like, half Harry Anderson, and half Maplehoof the dear departed pony.

JOHN: wow, that sounds GREAT!

ROSE: Come to think of it, you're the only one of us who hasn't. I mean, of our original group of friends.

ROSE: Dave had Bird Dave, Jade had Dog Jade, and now I have... *shudder*... Cat Rose.

ROSE: Why were you let off the hook?

JOHN: i dunno.

JOHN: guess you guys are just luckier than me. :)

ROSE: Even putting aside the wildly unwelcome body horror slapstick routine she represents, and the machine gun salvo of opprobrious remarks and conduct which my cat is apparently capable of releasing from my subconscious,

ROSE: I'm not sure where this leaves me.

JOHN: what do you mean?

ROSE: I felt like I understood my place.

ROSE: I'd gotten myself in order somewhat. My, um.

ROSE: Beverage decisions had gotten more reasonable.

ROSE: I was ready to bear down and play my part in finishing this.

ROSE: I could even handle a stray Rosesprite brought to my doorstep by my sweet imbecile of a pet.

ROSE: Idiotic though that was, I was still clearly Rose Prime.

ROSE: But can I really claim that now?

ROSE: She's a... sprite SQUARED?!

ROSE: How is that even a thing.

ROSE: Can someone tell me how that's even a thing?

JANE: I can't tell you how it's even a thing.

JANE: I think we are all just as flabbergasted as you at its thinginess.

ROSE: What's next? Is there a sprite cubed? Or a...

ROSE: Let's not even entertain this avenue of thought.

ROSE: The point is, she must be quite powerful, insightful, and in spite of the beast she rents headspace out to, intelligent as well.

ROSE: Doesn't she arguably have more claim to being Real Rose than I do?

JOHN: i don't think being the "real rose" necessarily means being the one who is more outgoing and chatty and powerful and stuff.

JOHN: i'm not sure it means... anything?

JOHN: i think maybe we should try to drop the stuff about who is the real version of who anyway. it's weird and it just hurts people's feelings.

ROSE: I don't care if my feelings are hurt, though.

ROSE: I just want to know where I stand.

JOHN: i really don't think she is that threatening to you!

JOHN: believe me, you still seem like the rose i always knew, whereas she... doesn't quite.

JOHN: it seems to me she is a lot more interested in having fun and zipping around like a silly lunatic than usurping you as the main rose.

ROSE: Sure. That's what she WANTS you to think.

JOHN: but why do you care? i thought i heard the other rose say, before she was a cat, that she liked the idea of being some sort of... backup rose.

JOHN: do you not feel that way too?

ROSE: That was a different context.

ROSE: I probably would have felt the same way, if I found myself in her exact situation.

ROSE: Jasprose changes everything though.

ROSE: Now I feel a certain responsibility. Like I have to really step up.

JOHN: step up??

ROSE: Yes. To make sure I stay regarded as the exemplary model.

ROSE: To provide assurance that the concept of Roseness itself doesn't degrade due to black market peddlers of substandard shit.

ROSE: Basically, I need to defend the integrity of the brand.

JOHN: hahaha. oh my god.

ROSE: What?

JOHN: nothing.

JOHN: i just missed you so much!

ROSE: My brand missed you too, John.

JOHN: your brand has good taste in friends, and kicks ass.

TEREZI: (N333RDS)

JOHN: hey, how do you think kanaya and karkat are doing?

ROSE: They're probably getting a stern earful of roiling monster patois right about now.

JOHN: do you think they'll be successful?

ROSE: ...

ROSE: At what?

JOHN: at...

JOHN: talking to a monster?

JOHN: i don't know.

ROSE: I think Karkat will successfully fail to understand the monster, and possibly also successfully shout at the monster.

ROSE: Kanaya I think will probably successfully do something sensible in response to whatever the monster demands.

JOHN: so...

JOHN: you think they're going to pull it off then?

ROSE: I'm still not sure what "it" is.

ROSE: But yes.

JOHN: well, the idea was to release the frog i think.

ROSE: You think so?

JOHN: that's what vriska said.

ROSE: Vriska says a lot of things.

ROSE: That's the basic idea, yes.

ROSE: But monsters can be complicated.

ROSE: Regardless, I think the right person was summoned to handle it.

JOHN: you really trust kanaya, don't you?

ROSE: Sure.

JOHN: not to change the subject too hard, into something maybe you don't want to talk about because of your brand...

JOHN: but i think you make a nice couple.

ROSE: You do?

JOHN: yes, i thought so last time i was hanging out with you both, in the screwed up time line.

JOHN: but didn't say anything then.

JOHN: i think it's still true!

JOHN: i'm glad it didn't change when i retconned some things.

ROSE: I am too.

JOHN: maybe that means it's a strong relationship?

JOHN: if it can survive... god.

JOHN: whatever the hell happened.

JOHN: a hard three year reboot, and then the sudden presence of vriska??

ROSE: When you put it that way,

ROSE: It really does sound like you were trying to fuck us up.

JOHN: haha.

TEREZI: (N3333333RDS)

JOHN: terezi, shoosh.

TEREZI: WH4T

TEREZI: 1 H4V3 JUST B33N M1ND1NG MY OWN BUS1N3SS, 4ND 1N NO W4Y WH4TSO3V3R S4Y1NG 4NYTH1NG D1R3CT3D 4T 4 COUPL3 OF S1LLY N3RDS S4Y1NG DORKY TH1NGS

JOHN: no, you said nerds twice.

JOHN: you always say nerds when in ear shot of other people who are just being friendly.

TEREZI: 1SN'T 1T W31RD HOW YOU 4R3 M4K1NG TH1S OBS3RV4T1ON, 4ND NO ON3 3LS3 1S?

JOHN: what?

JOHN: no.

TEREZI: M34N1NG, M4YB3 1 ONLY S4Y 1T WH3N TH3 P41R OF N3RDS 1N 34RSHOT H4PP3NS TO 1NCLUD3 YOU

JOHN: um...

TEREZI: <3<

JOHN: ack!!!

JOHN: what was that look?!

TEREZI: WH4T LOOK

JOHN: that look you just gave me!

TEREZI: 1 D1DN'T G1V3 YOU 4 LOOK, D1NGUS

JOHN: yes you did!

JOHN: don't look at me like that!!!

TEREZI: WH4T3V3R LOOK YOU TH1NK 1 G4V3 YOU, 1T W4S 1N YOUR 1M4G1N4T1ON

TEREZI: 1T 1S *POSS1BL3* YOU M4Y B3 FL4TT3R1NG YOURS3LF, 3GB3RT

JOHN: oh, whatever.

JOHN: hey, what are you even still doing here?

JOHN: weren't you going to go with dave, and get ready for battle?

TEREZI: Y3S

TEREZI: 1'M JUST G1V1NG H1M 4ND H1S BRO SOM3 T1M3 TO TH3MS3LV3S F1RST

TEREZI: 1 4M SUR3 TH3Y COULD US3 1T

TEREZI: 4ND WH4T3V3R TH3 H3LL 1S GO1NG ON B3TW33N TH3M

TEREZI: TH3 L4ST TH1NG 1 W4NT TO DO 1S 1NVOLV3 MYS3LF

TEREZI: TH4T SOUNDS 3V3N MOR3 4WKW4RD TH4N L1NG3R1NG 4ROUND YOU GOOFY BUNCH OF N3RDS B31NG 4LL CUT3 4ND MUSHY W1TH YOUR HUM4N F4M1LY 4ND FR13NDSH1P STUFF

JOHN: yeah, you sure do sound put off by it.

JOHN: all hanging on our every word and such. :p

TEREZI: 1T T4K3S 4 W1LL OF 1RON, TRUST M3

JOHN: uh huh.

JOHN: but yeah, i actually do agree...

JOHN: it does sound pretty awkward to be around dave and his bro while they, um.

JOHN: get to know each other, i guess?

TEREZI: YUP

JOHN: i'm not sure how well dave really even knew his adult bro, actually.

JOHN: aside from bogusly idolizing him, in a way that was really transparent that he didn't.

JOHN: i wonder...

JOHN: i wonder how different dirk is from him, if at all?

TEREZI: 1 WOULDN'T B3 TH3 ON3 TO 4SK

JOHN: what do you think, rose?

ROSE: I don't think there's anyone who could answer that.

ROSE: I suspect literally no one in the history of anywhere has ever met both people.

ROSE: Until, as of now, Dave himself.

JOHN: ...

JOHN: i hope dave's ok.

#homestuck #john egbert #jane crocker #rose lalonde #terezi pyrope #homestuck act 6 #page 7697 #page 7698 #page 7699 #homestuck act 6 act 6 #homestuck act 6 act 6 intermission 5

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maguro13-2 · 1 year ago

Text

War of Shadow Realm ~ Origins of the Ink Demon Chapter 4 Finale [3/5] ~

"Continuing Transmission..."

*TV BUZZING*

Hal : Hang tight, folks! We're are experiencing some heavy technical difficulties! Things are quite a bit messy around here at Channel 5 and we--*TV BUZZING*

Rosalina : Hey! What happened?! Who's re-broadcasting the thing?! Penny get that thing working!

Penny Crygor : [types quickly] I'm trying to getting back in fast as I can! But someone is hacking into my computer! What a sucker! Can't say for sure who's been re-broadcasting my Communicator, someone really managed to pull this one through!

[Necrodeus appears on the screen]

Necrodeus : Citizens of Real World AU. I am Necrodeus, the leader of the Skull Gang and ruler of this world's darkness. It is my pleasure of thanking the Kusakabe for making these parasites of this planet to protect the legacy of Shinra Kusakabe. His influence has made everyone strong, but apparently heroes of law and justice like you witches have able to monitored the situation, and that's exactly what I must do for our uprising!

Kimial Diehl : It's that righteous son of a b*tch!

Maka Albarn : So that's him, right? That's the Skull Gang Leader, Necrodeus!

[The Skull Gang - Shogo Sakai]

Daroach : So that's one of the mastermind that is behind the scenes in Soul World!

Tifa Lockhart : It's that skeleton guy! That's the leader of that floating skull head gang!

Cloud Strife : Author Ohkubo have led us astray for all of that Soul Eater crap. Who would've thought that floating skull thing finally arrives?

Yuffie Kusagari : What about it? It's no wonder that Soul World was nothing more than a common facade to this Shadow Realm thing. And he had been turning the tables pretty quick.

Ashley : I've know you something from before. You're that creep who turned a pink puffball into 10 clones of him! This was all your doing and including My partner Kimial, which used the meisters and the so-called Meisters as puppets on a string to you the entire time! And now I realize that the Kusakabe legacy was nothing but a piece of data that was created within the database! And let me guess...you are responsible for being the fake Shinigami of Soul World!

Necrodeus : (broadcasting) Let me put my thinking cap on...of course I did it to impress the Real Wolrd like a bunch of fools! What do you think I am, an imbecile?! I only wanted the real world to impress everything and in fact that you are absolutely right, detective! The Kusakabe legacy was really a piece of data that was stored within the database.

Ventus : So, the legacy of Shinra Kusakabe that we've been looking for...

Axel : Ah, nuts! It was in that stupid computer all along and nobody else was looking! All of this was a distraction to protect data from falling into the wrong hands!

Xion : So the meisters and witches have been deceiving from all of those lies. The author of Soul World lied to us, there was no such thing as bringing madness to the real world at all! It's all just a crummy joke to be deceive from the devil's eyes!

Tails : Shinra Kusakabe's legacy was really a piece of data stored within in the database?

Sonic : That's what this is all about? Someone finally knows how pull their tricks up in their sleeves!

Shadow : This case has been officially cracked! Guess that wasn't how Shinra's creation of Soul World isn't going to be.

(Everyone exclamaing)

Maka Albarn : Kusakabe legacy that we've been looking for...was a piece of data? So that's what this is all about, protecting data from being stolen by the hands of a criminal. So that's how the men of Shinra's influence to keep it all a secret.

Necrodeus : So, I am giving you a proper demand that In needed to me within 24 hours to hand over the Legacy, I will plunge this planet and the universe into darkness!

Ashley : Oh yeah? If you're clever of stopping us in favor of saving humanity and witchkind from the forces of true evil, (flips Necrodeus) then how about that I give you a demand of having no authority to respect, you F**king dark prick!? We have no idea of where the legacy might be and that's a clue that will never forget!

Necrodeus : And if you sure about having a fair fight. Watch as I annihilate the real world with the help of my people that I'd like to introduce you to.

Ashley : Charmed. Hope that your so-called friends of the Skull Gang would mind saying the question of--

Skullies : You and what army!?

(An army of the Skull Gang sppears)

Ashley : Oh, those friends of your. That was a stupid question to ask, but rhetorical.

Kimial Diehl : There's no end to these guys, is there? An army of Skulls would be a much of this War on Moon crap. That is a lot of enemies to take down!

Jacqueline O'Lantern Dupre : Even the pink puff has some gutsy moves to beat those guys if there were only 10 clones of himself, the one that Necrodeus pulled a slick move on him.

Mario : So, what do we planning on destroying the moon, Ohkubo's moon? Should we just blow it up with any kind of destructive weapons or something?

Luigi : I don't know, man. But why did we came to the moon of Soul World for that?

Mario : No reason for that matter, Just uhh--

*DBZ SFX : RUMBLING*

All : WOAAAAAAH!!

Luigi : Hey, guys! What the hell is happening?! Why is the universe shaking?!

Rosalina : Is it me or does the universe is kinda shaking the planets right now?

Toad (via radio) : Guys! Something's really happening! We can feel tons of dark energy coming fround somewhere over the planet. And I don't think this is a good one, but I think that something's not quite right for ourselves and I don't think that Bowser's doing this.

Knuckles : What?!

Sonic : What the heck is going on?! Is there a earthquake in Space that we all feel?!

Knuckles : This is no Earthquake!

[Stop the Black Hole - Hideaki Kobayashi]

(a black hole appears with mysterious space craft; it's Astral Babylon from the Sonic Riders series)

Tails : The Lightless Black, it's back! And isn't that...

Sonic : Hey wait a sec, that ship. that's Babylon Garden!

Shadow : What?! This is the instellar spacecraft that disguised itself as an island? You mean Babylon Garden's true form was a spaceship that crashed landed on Mobius! In fact Babylon Garden wasn't an island at all!

Mario : Guys! Everyone! What is going on!

Rosalina : (broadcasting) Oh no, guys! Someone managed to activate the Lightless Black, I bet it's the work of the Time Eater that Homura Akemi mentioned.

Mario : What?! The Time Eater?! the one that destroyed half of the Ohkuboverse?!

Kimial Diehl : So that Time-eating creep was behind all of this! Planning to wipe us all out! So it wanted to destroy the Ohkuboverse that badly because of the spreading influence! And it's all of Ohkubo's fault that he started Soul World in the first place!

Shinra (Devil Chaos Chao) : But at this rate, the moon that the Author designed is going to be swallowed! We have to evacuate this area now!

(Abis Roars)

Shinra (Devil Chaos Chao) : What was that noise!? Was that my grandson making noise!?

Kimial Diehl : Umm, Guys? Look! (Points at something in horror what appears to be Master Core : Abis) that robot with a Meteortech symbol on his head , I believe it's...(flashing images of SCR-HD of himself)

Sonic : Hey, That's MeteorTech's leader, it's one of Eggman's robots! I think it's time for a rematch with this fella.

??? : Then leave this one to us! I'll help you guys on saving earth from that tin can!

Sonic : It's you...*DBZ SFX : Surprise* Jet!

Jet : Did you miss us, blue rodent? Haven't seen you awhile since our last race at the tournament and the Olympics! But it's a good thing we decided to help with someone from earth.

Sonic : But with who?

??? : Because that So-called Shinigami is such a charlatan. Only a true reaper is capable of having no boundaries between the balance of life and death. I do not care about the money, I care about saving lives in earth. But do not worry, Adam Blade and the other won't know thing that I will be Japan's truest Shinigami.

Sonic : "Truest Shinigami" So, you wanted to be someone that is a true Shinigami, a Shinigami that protects the innocence and defends humanity from the threats of evil. The girls who is cold deathless that wields a powerful sword created by the death gods, and perhaps it's wisely that the detectives have known you somewhere before...You are blonde girl that met Adam Blade for the first time in Japan and you were the shinigami chosen by the death gods. You...are...Seto.

Seto : Yes...You are correct!

[Jingle : Round Clear (Shadow) - Jun Senoue]

[NEWCOMER : SETO RETURNS FROM THE AFTERLIFE]

Seto : Let there be judgement against tyranny, cause the Shinigami is here today!

~ Seventieth Scene : The Girl from a Needless World

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georgiaheartsdilfs · 2 years ago

Note

Reader is jealous Davina keeps flirting with Kol and she gets enough courage to go up and kiss him so she can back off. The thing is reader she isn't sure what came over him, Kol went along with it cause he does feel for her but was waiting for her to say or do something about it. He makes a joke about how long it took her to admit it. /Playful banter between Kol and reader, she is vocal about not liking Davina but never gave a real reason but it was cause she wanted Kol to herself.

Well That Took A While. | Kol Mikaelson x Reader

my masterlist ↪M A S T E R L I S T

"Now you tell me, if Davina can make better pancakes than that." I smirk sliding a plate of pancakes down the end of the table to Kol who had been sitting patiently for 20 minutes for me to make him pancakes.

"You have a bit of a jealousy problem." Kol laughed at my remark, eating my pancake before melting into bliss "it's good huh?" I ask him and he nods "and no I don't have a jealousy problem. I just don't like her all too much, shes... irritating." I shrug

"you say that about Davina more than anyone else." Kol says with a mouthful of food "yeah because she's always up in your face." I shrug "who is that?" Davina walks into the room, taking a pancake off of Kol's plate and comfortably sitting down next to him.

"Y-" "Some girl she bumped into in the bar." Kol cuts me off and I give him the death stare "what, no." I say angrily "oh well most people are lovely here, if they bumped into you its because they don't like you, isn't that right Kol." Davina winks to Kol.

God I had hated her guts since she came into this stupid Mikaelson family thing. It's always about her and Kol or about how the world hates me because I can't get anything, which doesn't make sense but to her it does.

"Well aren't you both in a mood today." Kol scoffs "it wasn't me, i've made it apparent how I don't like her." I point to the teenage imbecile sitting next to the man of my dreams.

"Besides it's like she lives here, I do, she doesnt." I say snatching the rest of the pancake out of her hand and stuffing it in my mouth.

"If you didn't like me so much, why would you eat my food." I say at her angrily with my mouth full of food.

"Well it's because Kol is here, wherever he goes, I go." she smiles like a fucking idiot. I can't believe she even thinks of having a chance with Kol.

I give her a death stare, Kol obviously finding it funny with the subtle snickers as he hides behind Davina trying to hide it from me.

"You fucking creepy teenager." I say "Harvest Witch" she corrects me "Harvest Bitch, Davina Cole is a Harvest Bitch." I correct her before she rolls her eyes at me in a petty way before looking at Kol with loving eyes.

"Besides if Kol wanted you, he would have done it a while ago, wouldn't you Kol?" Davina asks "Uh-" "Kol shut up, Davina you're just upset because Klaus didn't give you what he promised, neither did Elijah so you're just being a little bitch because you know that you are no longer of use therefore meaning no more raging popularity for attacking the Mikaelsons, you're just a little girl now." I say.

She did get a rise out of me, not in a good way either. It was like she hated me, I suppose she did but I did nothing towards her.

"well if Kol liked you so much-" Davina continues talking and I block her out, walking over to Kol and kissing him passionately, placing my hands on his cheeks. Loving every part of the kiss until Davina screamed out.

"UGH" she says before storming off.

Kol and I had never done anything like that ever, so of course she would get mad and storm out of the room like a little 9 year old about to throw a tantrum.

"woah" Kol says as I pull away wiping my mouth wiping my wrist. "Don't say woah, you went along with it." I mumble going back to what I was doing before Davina came in.

"it was just the heat of the moment, I had to do something to get that bitch off my back." I mumble and Kol nods.

"well that took a while." he scoffs "did you taste the pancakes?' he asks me in a joking mood "what do you mean it took a while" I say turning my back to him "well it took you a while to do something about your little crush, darling." Kol says and I can just tell her has a smug look on his face even though my back is facing him.

"what, no i don't have a little crush." I spin around only to find that my assumption about the ok on his face was right. "you do, what other reason do you have to still be in this conversation right now." Kol winked.

I couldn't lie to him because even if he knew I was lying he could hear my heartbeat.

I guess that took a while.

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bluexiao · 3 years ago

Note

if requests are open, may i request scaramouche, lisa and hu tao (if you write for her) with a dendro reader? i'm sorry if it's too vague!

Falling for them as a Dendro Vision Holder

—in which you are a dendro vision holder who works as a nurse and fate led you to meet them one way or another

CHARACTERS: Scaramouche, Lisa, Hu Tao; gn!reader

WARNINGS: several curse words from scaramouche. also a few spoilers from lisa’s story (which i’m sure most have already known? but it’s not that explicitly said so it’s fine)

THEME: fluff. first meetings. character analysis?

NOTES: i honestly am so confused how to write this but hopefully this is fun enough to read! I didn’t imply much about the vision because it’s difficult? But it’s there! Also, scara is apparently the character i usually enjoy writing hahahah. To anyone who wants to request for scara when i open my requests, bring them on!And yep i changed a bit of my posts?? I think it looks better this way? Idk what do you guys think? Should i keep this kind of theme?

SCARAMOUCHE

You were one of the nurses that were part of the medical team that was assigned to his team one time and apparently, that was one of the rare times that he came back to the camp; heavily injured, due to some altercation it seems

He demanded for the most competent out of all of you, and apparently, everyone had their gaze on you and he glared at you, telling you to hurry the f up

Fortunately, you were able to treat him with the care that he was pleased at and it was when he questioned you how his injuries healed quicker than he expected, you answered him that it was about your Dendro Vision.

He became interested that day—not romantically yet but he felt like you were someone who he can actually entrust something with

Since then, he seems to have given some sort of favoritism towards you. It’s not really obvious enough at first but whenever he’s on another mission, you were always there in his team. You only found out when someone whispered to you that he actually personally asks for your presence in his missions.

You didn’t think much of it, however, people began chattering about it that it reached his ears one day and he was really mad about it

“Have you worthless imbeciles got nothing else to do but spread false rumors about somebody else? Fine then, you and you, go to the front lines and make sure you come back alive and well. The medical team wouldn’t be helping your as*es off when you return.”

He wouldn’t actually care about the talks about the two you, but he would be a little bit harsher with you, all the while still showing favoritism in his own way. In his mind, it would only fade as time passes, and it did, of course.

The transition for a romantic relationship is difficult, let’s be real. He’s a Fatui Harbinger, you’re merely his lackey at this point. Let’s say you like him already and I tell you, he’d immediately sense that if you are not too careful.

For him, relationships or maybe the concept of love itself may sound like a weakness. It is only natural for him to reject you if you try to make a move on him, but if you show him your competence and strength, that would be one step to making you look attractive to him.

He’s a powerful man, not just by his title, of course, he’d want someone who can “equal” him, me thinks. It may sound unfair but yeah that’s how it goes. Harbingers are molded to be heartless, you won’t find his heart if you don’t make an effort to do so.

“Oh? I didn’t know you could fight too. Interesting… why didn’t you train for offense? Either way, you proved yourself worthy, Y/n.”

If you show him that you can defeat enemies with your vision, then that will surely pique his interest.

And did he just call and refer to you with your name? Huge improvement

Honestly, even if you don’t have powerful abilities and you’re just strong in your own way, he’d definitely be intrigued and would want to get to know you more. It’s a process though since he did seem like he wasn’t an impulsive person.

By the time you got him looking at you, that’s the only moment you’d show that you do feel something more for him. It’s not that guaranteed, but it is safer than when he practically was supposed to hate you.

“Are you seriously flirting with me?” he’d smirk and huff a scoff, “You’ve got the guts, huh? Well then, ready yourself, you’re staying with me on our raid tomorrow. I expect no failure, understood?”

LISA

She probably met you while she was studying in Sumeru Academia, at that time you were doing the same for your own medical studies.

You were the one who was amazed by her intelligence and basically as a whole itself.

She doesn’t give much effort to her works but that seems to be only on the surface for she does work just as hard as everyone else. You’ve always seen her in the library and even if she does sleep there a couple of times, she does read lots of books. And she’s also a fast reader.

You admired her from afar, and you thought she didn’t know a single thing about you until you found yourself being approached by her one day in the same library you always go to—where she reads in as well

“Hey there, cutie. I always see you around here, perhaps, are you one of my admirers?” she says in a sweet manner, but before you could retaliate, she giggles softly and proceeds to take a seat beside you. For a moment there you could tell that she’s quite graceful with her movements in a way.

“I’m just kidding, although it seems that you study a lot here that it made me curious about what you study about.”

She has a way of making things sound easy and not of a big deal, that’s why you two immediately became friends right after that encounter.

It’s really quite easy to fall for her, honestly. What’s difficult is knowing if she has feelings for you too. She’s practically flirting to anyone she finds attractive and even if it’s quite subtle, as one who knows her better, it would be clear to you.

“You’re saying that you can make poison with your Vision, but you still pursued the medical field. I must say, that’s brave of you, cutie.”

She would help you in your studies, even with your training as a Vision holder, and she’s really knowledgable so you can ask her several things even if it shouldn’t be part of her usual line of intelligence.

She doesn’t really care if your abilities are dangerous she trusts you enough to hangout with you even if there are people who are afraid of your abilities.

It’s really hard not to fall for her deeper than before because of the way she acts. So when she left the school and went to Mondstadt, it hurt you that you cannot follow her. It’s not like she did tell you about it until the day she left. She also told you about the reason why and it ended up with you convincing yourself that you should finish your years in the academy to be a licensed nurse and help her in any way possible.

And yes, it took a while before you and her saw each other once again.

“You didn’t have to do it for me, there’s nothing else that could help me now, and I’ve accepted it over time.”

You don’t, and when she sensed that you wouldn’t anytime soon, she let you be, but she urged you to spend a lot of time with her since

“I don’t want to regret not spending time with someone I like the most now would I?”

HU TAO

Most likely, when you two first met, it was during her work

It was a really humorous encounter actually since she got introduced to you, a professional licensed nurse who her “client” insisted on seeing since Dr. Baizhu was out for the moment

Apparently, she was trying to convince her “client” to avail her services because they have an illness that was fatal but it’s not like they will pass away anytime soon

In the end, you were able to help her gain a client since it was indeed a fatal illness and there was nothing wrong to avail the services of the funeral parlor

You didn’t get to see her after that, not until you bumped into her one day in the harbor and she offered to treat you to a meal. Apparently, she was grateful for your “help” and she felt the need to repay you. If you deny, she’d say;

“None of that! Now come on, let’s eat! Oh! Do you want to go to Wanmin Restaurant or—on second thought, let’s order there instead! Maybe Chef Mao might be interested in accepting my offer today.”

When Chef Mao did, she called you her lucky charm afterwards.

And one day, while she was helping you gather herbs since she insisted to, you were attacked by monsters and that was the day you two found out that your vision elements compliment each other.

“Uwahh! That’s one of the best fights I’ve had! We fit so well, don’t we?”

It’s difficult to know if she likes you as a friend or more, but she’s pretty straightforward—more than the two above. If she likes you romantically, she’d say it.

“Hey hey, I like you. Oh? I wasn’t too obvious? Hmm… I thought I was. So? Do you like me too? Wanna go on a date with me, yea?”

#genshin x reader #scaramouche x reader #lisa x reader #hutao x reader #hu tao x reader #genshin drabbles #genshin oneshots #scaramouche headcanons #scara x reader #lisa headcanons #hutao headcanons

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cipheress-to-k-pop · 4 years ago

Text

Kiss my ass, Hargreeves!

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 800 words

Anonymous said: can i request a five hargreeves with a wife reader? <3

Author’s Note: It’s more of a drabble than a one-shot because I was short for time but still I hope you like it. I’m also horrible at coming up with titles so Imma do this thing where if I can’t come up with one then I’ll use the last few words for it

Forever Taglist: @simonsbluee

“Ow...” You whined, trying to catch your breath. Your head throbbed and your hands and knees were most likely scratched up from trying to break your fall. You felt your palms sting when you pushed yourself to sit upright.

“Could’ve given me some warning,” You snapped, eyes darting to the person who fell alongside you but once your eyes landed on him, your mouth dried and you sucked in a harsh breath.

“Oh, boy.”

The boy in question looked at you for a second before looking at himself and then sighed, “Good grief.”

You gave him a comforting smile, trying to adjust your dress that was uncomfortably big, “It’s okay, at least we’re humans, I mean we could’ve been turned into ducks.”

You heard someone clear their throat and turned in surprise to the alongside group of people that were surrounding you. You gazed up at them expectantly and then gestured to the man—well, boy beside you.

Once they finally recognized him, they gasped and seemed at a loss for words for a second and he sighed again before standing up and offering a hand to you. The two of you walked inside the house, ignoring the rest of them and he shrugged off his jacket before giving it to you to cover yourself.

The boy lead you to the kitchen and sat you down, grabbing some things to make the two of you a sandwich. It wasn’t long before his siblings followed him into the room and took seats on the opposite side of the table.

Five, as expected, answered their questions with the least interest and most sass which mildly amused you. But when you sensed his siblings growing antsy you had to stop him from answering too quickly and irritating them more.

“Don’t be so hasty, Five.” You urged softly, not even bothering to move from your seat at the dining table.

It was only then the older half of the room noticed you.

“And who exactly is this?” Asked who you assumed to be Diego and you gave him a gentle smile, extending your hand.

“(Y/N) Hargreeves, it’s nice to meet you.”

“So not only does one sibling mysteriously show up, we get another now too. You know, last I recalled, I don’t remember siblings being a two for one deal.”

You scoffed, “You’re one to talk, you have 6 siblings.”

“And now apparently I have seven.”

Five rolled his eyes, before jumping to the table, handing you your sandwich and a cup of tea, just how you liked it.

“She’s not your sibling, you imbecile. She’s my wife.”

You really wished you had a camera to capture the look on their faces. While you were amused at their reactions, Five was only growing more irritated.

“You can’t be married! You’re thirteen!” Allison exclaimed.

“Physically, yes. But we’re actually 28 years older than you. Well, Five is. I’m a year younger. Which reminds me,” You muttered, pulling out your ring from Five’s pocket and flashing the wedding ring to the rest of the siblings, “Do you happen to have a chain I can hang this on? I can’t imagine it would fit on these tiny fingers.”

Allison stared at the ring in shock, noticing the diamond on it, “It’s bigger than mine when I got married.”

You giggled thinking about your wedding. It had been an extremely small ceremony, consisting of only the two of you but it was still one of the happiest days of your life, “Well we couldn’t really have the big, fat wedding so I settled for a big, fat diamond.”

Five chuckled before grabbing your hand and leading you out of the room.

“Wait that’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

“What else is there to say? Circle of life.” He replied haughtily and you chuckled, patting his hand gently.

“I can’t believe we have to go through puberty again.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. You smiled at him, kissing his cheek and then ruffling his hair, laughing when he squirmed and complained.

“Well when we stop the Apocalypse, at least I’ll have more options when I want to get married again.” You wondered, looking around his old room.

“What? Wedding destinations? Honeymoons?” He asked teasingly and you scoffed, smacking his arm, “I want a wider range of potential grooms for a start.”

He mocked you, scoffing in a high pitched and snooty tone, making you laugh in disbelief but at the same time it was nice. You never got to see Five relax and just be immature and playful. Of course, he still had a huge burden on his shoulders but something about being a child again made him feel more free.

“Give me back the ring then!”

“Kiss my ass, Hargreeves!!”

#five hargreeves #five x reader #umbrella academy five #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves x you #the umbrella academy #tua x reader #tua five x reader #tua five #tua #5 x reader #number 5 #number five #number five x reader #number five x you #number 5 x reader #aidan gallagher

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peralta-guaranteed · 3 years ago

Note

After that Jake-Mac-Rosa fic, you dropped this queen: 👑 Next time, a Jake-Mac-Holt piece?

Oh dang, THAT's where I left it. Thank you for that. 🤪

Grandpa Holt is always a pleasure to write, but let's try for some Dad Holt too...

"Is everything alright, Peralta?"

Jake has been sitting off to the side of the group for a while now, so Holt finds it necessary to inquire. He's not used to the eager detective being so closed off and quiet unless something is wrong, and nothing he can think of right now strikes him as 'wrong': they have been celebrating the end of a rather arduous case for Diaz and Boyle, and Peralta had been as helpful as he could be as a tertiary, which was not his preferred position at all. The first round at Shaw's had been paid by himself as Captain, obviously, and the next by Diaz, so Boyle has promised to shoulder the third, were it to happen. Ergo Peralta could not be thinking about his usual money problems, which have lessened anyway ever since Santiago took over his budgeting.

That means something else entirely must be 'wrong' in order for Jake to keep out of the conversation, only reply when he is mentioned by name, and drift off to a corner of the bar while the other congregate around the various game options of the room.

"I'm good, Captain, thanks." Jake answers with a smile and an obvious lie, so Holt doesn't even bother replying, just raises one of his eyebrows a quarter of an inch, which he knows usually gets him results with Peralta. The ensuing sigh shows that it is still working.

"It's just..." Jake shrugs and rubs the back of his neck, another tell of his discomfort. "This is my first night out alone since the baby."

"Indeed." Holt replies. "I remember your phone call to Amy to inform her you would be back late today."

"Yeah." His hand is still on his neck, the other one clutched around his half empty beer bottle. "She told me to have fun. But..uh... I still kinda feel like I shouldn't be here."

"Do you think having a child robs you of autonomity? I know I am not speaking from experience, here, but it does seem to me like you are allowed to enjoy time away from your family, especially if your spouse insists you do."

"Getting drunk at a bar while my kid might be crying at home doesn't feel like the responsible thing to do, is all."

"Ah, I see." Holt nods, and he does see - he actually sees a lot more than what Jake might be trying to imply in his statement. He remembers how he used to self-medicate with alcohol in the past, after ending his relationship with that defense attorney, or even before, while feeling heartbroken over Santiago. He also remembers anecdotes about his father's drinking, not from Peralta himself, obviously, but from the rest of the squad, whenever Jake would cancel on a promised night out after Roger Peralta's visits. As much as Holt hates idioms, one of his most despised is probably 'the apple doesn't fall far from the tree', and Jake seems to fear it as well.

"Here is my solution, then, if you are willing to listen." Jake looks up at Holt as he's standing in front of him, and his hand drops from his neck. "You make the beer you are currently drinking your last for the night, and spend some quality time with your colleagues instead, enjoying a few parlour games, and then you head home at an agreeable time and still see your child before he falls asleep."

Jake grins and takes a sip of his beer.

"Sounds like a plan, Cap." He nods, and Holt doesn't ignore the fact that Jake has been using this shortened nickname for him a lot lately, and how eerily similar it sounds to 'Dad' in his voice.

(An hour later, he receives a picture on his cellphone from Peralta: The man himself, asleep on his couch, with his infant son equally asleep on his chest. Santiago must have commandeered his phone, and Holt is glad for it.)

-*-

"Grampa!"

The sound of that little voice echoes through the hallway as loudly as the ensuing footsteps, and Holt feels something warm and solid wrap around his legs.

"Hello, McClane." He smiles down at the little boy currently clutching his knees, and he smiles back before raising his arms in an obvious demand to be lifted up. Holt obeys it immediately.

He notices Mac looks surprisingly tired for an otherwise very energetic two year old, and Amy, who's now following him to Holt's side, looks equally exhausted.

"Good afternoon, Captain. I'm so sorry, I should've messaged you that I have to bring Mac in for an hour, the babysitter cancelled and the day care couldn't keep him longer than-"

"It is quite alright, Santiago. McClane knows how to behave himself at the precinct, right?" He gives the little boy in his arms a look, and receives a strong and eager nod in reply, the curls on his head bouncing back and forth. If anyone were ever to question Peralta's parentage, that alone would classify them as an imbecile. "I can watch him for the time being, if you have paperwork you need to get in order before leaving for the day."

"God, Captain Holt, would you- that would be so- I was going to ask Rosa, because I know she's at her desk-"

Amy seems far more frazzled than usual, and Holt realises that her regular schedule must be in quite a disarray, considering she has been a single parent for about a week now. Mac must not have been making it easy for her, either, nor must the baby currently growing in her stomach, which has started to show about a month ago, at which point they finally informed the squad about it (when everyone had already figured it out just like last time).

"RoRo!" Mac yells, happily, almost leaning out of Holt's arms, but he quickly hugs him tighter.

"Your aunt Rosa is working, McClane, and we should not interrupt her. We can spend the time in my office, and you can draw if you would like."

"Roro working." He echoes like a little parrot. "Like Daddy."

"That's right." Holt has learned from the parenting homepages he's visited that you are to encourage a child trying to talk and string together a coherent topic, no matter how long it might take.

"Daddy's working away." Mac continues, and out of the corner of his eye Holt sees Amy's forehead wrinkle in worry.

"Yes, your father is in New Jersey for the week to work on a special case." It's not a dangerous case at all, rather a boring standard task that happened to involve some out-of-state suspects, but Jake had still been trying to hand off that trip to anyone who might be willing to help him out. Seeing his son with bags under his eyes and his wife with stresslines around her mouth and her hand on her belly, Holt understands why.

"He comes back." Mac says next, and it is a statement, but the look in his eyes makes it a question, and Holt is quick to answer. He's glad that he has a definite answer to that, instead of the empty promises and assurances he sometimes has to make as the head of a police department.

"Yes, your father will be back soon. In two days, in fact."

Mac holds up two grubby little fingers, and Holt nods with so much fervor it surprises himself.

"Very good, that is two. Only two days and two nights until your father is back home." The worry in Mac's eyes seems to dimish a little at that as he stares at his own fingers. "If we go to my office, we can check on the calendar exactly how long that is." He barely waits for another nod before taking the diaper bag out of Santiago's hands, who whispers a quiet, but relieved "Thank you" to him. He understands again that it means far more than to thank him for taking care of the child for an hour so.

(If he uses that hour to assure Mac several times that no matter what, his father will always find a way back to him with far more emotion in his voice than he'd usually use, well, no one needs to know. Peralta certainly seems happy about the picture he sends him of Mac with his captain's hat behind his desk.)

-*-

"Congratulations." Holt's hand on his shoulder is heavy, but not uncomfortably so, and it gives a quick squeeze before dropping.

They've done the whole customary introduction to the newborn baby, the apparently necessary picture round, and now Kevin is having an amicable chat with Amy in her hospital bed. They've waited two days for their official visit, to give the new parents a chance to get at least a few of their bearings. (Holt was there merely an hour after the birth, of course, with the rest of the squad, but that was a moment of joyful chaos and many voices.) Now the room is filled with an almost serene quiet, Amy's and Kevin's voices low and comfortable in the background as Holt watches the man he truly considers a son hold up his new granddaughter.

"Do you want to hold her again? I know you already did for the photos but-"

Holt only nods and takes the infant out of his hands with perfect ease. He's more used to a wriggling toddler now, but he still clearly remembers the days when Mac was equally quiet and frail in his arms. The little one in them now is asleep amidst all that is happening, her tiny mouth open just a fraction, and he feels her arm bump against his chest while she seems to be having a dream.

"She is as perfect as her older brother, Jake."

"Yeah." Jake smiles, and there's nothing of that boisterous, loud, cocky detective grin left in it that he used to know. It is soft and kind and full of love, and it might be one of Holt's favourite expressions. "Amy did a superb job again."

"As did you."

"I'm sure I don't gotta explain this to you, Cap, but I didn't really do much." Jake jokes, and Holt can tell he's trying to divert the attention to a simpler topic, but sometimes things must be said.

"You do a lot, Jacob." He continues, then. "Far more than a lot of fathers do. Far more than many would expect of you. And you do it all perfectly right, with heart and determination."

Jake nods, swallowing down a lump in his throat, it seems, and it might be a step too far for his already emotional state, but Holt feels like it needs to accompany his accolades.

"I am very proud of you, son."

Jake is very obviously fighting back tears as he replies.

"Thanks, dad."

The little girl in Holt's arms stirs right at this moment, and Jake seems to want to interject immediately in fear that she'll start crying, but she simply stares up at Holt with impossibly big, brown eyes for the first time. And he realises, just as he did two years ago when Mac's little hand tightened around his finger for the first time, that there is a child in this world that he would literally do anything for. There are four of them now, even if two of them have not fallen under the category of a child for several decades.

"Hello, Maya." He says to the little face that seems to be inspecting him. "I'm Captain Raymond Holt. Your grandfather."

He looks up at Kevin and Amy, who've stopped their conversation while Amy is lifting her phone in their direction, and then at Jake, who's looking at Maya as well with shining eyes. Then he looks back down at Maya, stretching her arms out of her swaddle as if she's reaching for him.

"You are a very lucky little girl."

#b99 #brooklyn 99 #jake peralta #amy santiago #peraltiago #mac peralta #maya peralta #raymond holt #captain dad #my writing #ficlet

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phoebe-delia · 3 years ago

Note

could u write a drarry oneshot inspired by sweet creature of harry styles? :)

Hello Nonnie! I absolutely can. This is a great suggestion, I love this song for Drarry. I hope you enjoy it. Warnings: injury, drinking, attempted sexual assault that is VERY QUICKLY STOPPED and NOT H/D!!! Thank you to @apr1cots for the beta!

3 Times Harry Brought Draco Home...+1 Time Draco Brought Harry Home

The first time, Harry found him in the cafe near their flat.

He sat down in the chair across from Draco, who glared at him over his cup of tea. "I thought I told you not to follow me."

"I waited three hours. I figured that would be enough time for you to come to your senses, but you didn't come back, so I got worried."

"I can handle myself, thanks."

"I know you can. But you didn't tell me where you went."

Draco's eyes flashed. "That was for a reason, you imbecile."

Harry shook his head. "Flatmates don't do that—disappear for three hours after a fight without saying where they’ve gone."

"I'm an adult. And you're not my father or my boyfriend, so back off."

"No, but I am your friend. And your flatmate. And I don't want to be worried sick for three hours when you fuck off to Merlin knows where because you're feeling pissy!" Harry snapped, letting his anger creep into his voice.

Draco sighed. He took a moment to sip his tea, and then he looked at Harry. "I'll tell you what. If we fight, and I don't return, send an owl, Floo or contact you in some way within six hours, you can send out a bloody search party."

Harry shook his head. “I will give you three hours.”

“Five”

“Three and a half.”

“Four and a half.”

“Four is my final offer.”

Draco scoffed. “Is that so? What are you going to do, show up with half the Auror department?”

Harry pursed his lips. “Not if I don’t have to. But I would.”

“No, you wouldn’t.”

“Care to find out?”

“You’re mental.”

“Maybe,” Harry shrugged. “Trouble is, I don’t care. Now, will you be here for a while, or are you coming home with me?”

“I suppose I'll go, but only since I've already finished my tea,” Draco said with another sigh, which Harry ignored as they both rose from their seats. While they walked to the Apparition point together, Harry replayed in his mind the flicker of emotion on Draco’s face when he said “home.”

The second time, Harry’s glass nearly shattered in his hand from how firmly he was gripping it.

He ignored Hermione’s knowing gaze and Ron’s eye roll as he unabashedly stared daggers at the bloke practically groping Draco at the bar. Harry saw Draco’s eyes widen imperceptibly, noticed his smile falter and his cheekbone twitch.

Yes, he observed this from across the room. You get to know a bloke after living with him for almost a year; besides, Harry was very perceptive—constant vigilance and all that.

Speaking of being an Auror, Harry was pretty sure this prick was breaking some sort of public indecency laws by the way he was sliding his hand further and further up Draco’s leg. Draco gently pried the man’s hand from his thigh, only for the stranger to laugh and reach over again, gripping it even more firmly.

Harry didn’t think beyond getting up from his seat and striding toward the bar, quickening his pace when he saw Draco’s eyes widen in panic. He barely registered the look of horror on the stranger’s face when he grabbed the hand gripping Draco’s thigh and pinned the man face-down on the bar.

“He said no,” Harry said through clenched teeth, ignoring the man’s grunts and protests.

“We were just talking!” The man sputtered, his cheek pressed against the counter as he twisted and wriggled to get free.

Harry tightened his grip. “Conversation’s over. If I catch you trying to ‘talk’ to him again, I’ll make sure you have a nice chat with the Wizengamot about sexual assault. Now, apologize.”

“But—”

“Apologize!”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry.”

Harry smirked. “Good.” He released the man’s arm and let him right himself. The man froze, looking between Harry and Draco expectantly.

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Leave. Now.”

The man nodded, scurrying out of the now silent bar, the bell attached to the door tinkling behind him.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know.” Draco’s face was blank other than a raised eyebrow.

Harry shrugged. “Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“No, I’m not. But I am glad you’re okay. You are, right? He didn’t hurt you?” Harry’s chest tightened at the suggestion.

But Draco shook his head. “No, I’m fine. But I think that’s my sign to head home.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“You don’t have to. I’m fine to Floo.”

“I want to.”

“What about your friends?”

Harry cringed and turned back to face the table to see Ron and Hermione looking at him, expressions full of nausea and amusement, respectively. He held up a hand in a small wave. Hermione shook her head and smiled fondly.

Harry grinned and turned back to Draco. “They’ll be alright without me. C’mon, let’s go home. I’ll make us some tea, yeah?”

Draco hesitated at first, but he nodded. And if Harry let his hand linger lightly on Draco’s back when they headed toward the Floo, they could both chalk it up to a safety measure.

The door to Pansy Parkinson’s flat swung open before Harry could knock.

She took one look at him and rolled her eyes. “Could you have taken any longer to get here?”

Harry bristled. “I was—”

“Don’t care. Get in here, he’s on my couch.” She turned and walked away purposefully, and Harry trailed behind her.

“I thought you two were just going for drinks?”

Pansy sighed. “We were, but then we came back here for a few more, and he got into my tequila when my back was turned.” She shook her head. “Tequila is his one weakness—well,” she smirked. “One of them, anyway.”

Harry furrowed his eyebrows and opened his mouth to respond when a shout sounded from the living room.

He looked over to see Draco sprawled across the couch, an empty glass in one hand and the other nearly touching the floor, his leather-clad legs spread wide.

Draco grinned at Harry. “Harrryyy!!! Come to join the party?”

“He’s come to end it, more like,” Pansy crossed her arms. “It’s time for you to go home, love.”

Draco let out a high, keening whine and burrowed himself further into the couch. “Don’ wanna. Tired. Stay here.”

“No, Draco, we’ve got to go home,” Harry walked up to the couch. His breath caught when gray eyes blinked wide and pleadingly up at him.

Draco held out his arms. “Up.”

“Er, what?”

Draco jerked his arms up and down, keeping them in the air. “Up! Help me up, you great oaf!”

Harry sighed and bent down, taking Draco in his arms and nearly stumbling when the blond let his body weight fall into him.

Draco smirked lazily. “Oops,” he said with a grin in his voice. “Guess you gotta carry me.”

Harry scoffed, looking to Pansy for appeal.

She waved a hand dismissively. “He’s your problem, now. Just get him out of my flat and back home intact, will you?” She didn’t wait for him to respond, walking away into another room.

Harry sighed. He wasn’t sure about the safety of Apparating or taking the Floo with someone in your arms, and the twists and turns of the Knight Bus could make a sober person sick up. With a grunt, he hoisted Draco up and into his arms bridal style, and the other man yelped and then giggled wrapping his arms around Harry’s neck.

“Home,” Draco said softly, and affection spread through Harry’s chest.

“Okay, Draco,” Harry whispered as they made their way out of the flat. “I’ve got you.”

+1.

Harry woke to the sound of muffled voices shouting at each other and the constant beep of a monitor.

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, wincing as a sharp pain exploded in his side with the effort. Memories came rushing back: the raid, turning his back for a split second to shout something at Ron, blinding pain, then darkness. He tried to sit up in the hospital bed, but he let himself lie back down when his side throbbed once more.

Suddenly, the door was opened and then promptly slammed shut. “Honestly, the nerve of these people. If he needs bed rest, then where is better than his own bed? Is my Healer degree rendered meaningless the moment I’m off the clock?” Draco muttered, running a hand through his hair as he paced the room angrily.

“Draco?”

Draco jumped and turned to Harry with wild, startled eyes that made Harry laugh, and then wince in pain.

“You’re awake, thank Merlin,” Draco approached the side of the bed, relief replacing the shock on his face.

“How long have I been out?”

“Two days. You were hit with a rare curse that caused an ever-bleeding wound in your side, and the healers had to put you in a magically induced coma to reverse it.”

“That sounds good. Do Robards and—”

“Yes, Ron gave Robards the full briefing. You’re not expected in the office until a Healer permits it.”

“So, can I go home?”

“Yes, now that you’re awake, you can go home. I’ll monitor you from there.”

Harry frowned. “You don’t have to.”

Draco let out a short, humorless chuckle. “You were in a coma for two days, Harry. The only reason they’re discharging you is that you’re going home with a Healer.”

“But you don’t actually have to stay and watch me all day, right?”

“What part of ‘I’ll monitor you from there’ don’t you understand?”

“But I’m fi-!” The last word was cut off as Harry hissed through another spark of pain.

“Fine, are you?”

“Shut up.”

Draco smirked. “Not likely.”

Harry scowled, eliciting a real laugh from Draco, who moved to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Flatmates don’t do this, y’know.”

Draco’s eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

“Take several days off of work to care for the other when they’re injured. I’m not even sure friends do that.”

Harry noticed Draco’s jaw tighten. He ached to reach up and relax it with a gentle touch, but he kept his hand at his side.

“What are you saying, Harry?” Draco asked, his voice low and even.

“I’ll tell you what,” Harry swallowed. “I won’t argue about you wasting days away from work if you let me take you to dinner when I’ve recovered.”

The beginning of a smile curved Draco’s lips. “And what will we do in the meantime?”

Harry waggled his eyebrows. “I can think of a few ways to pass the time.”

Draco chuckled. “If you think I’m missing work just so you wind up back in here because you restarted bleeding during sex, you’ve another thing coming.”

Harry pouted halfheartedly. “Apparently I won’t be coming at all.”

Draco mimicked his petulant frown. “Aww, ickle Harry, being waited on for days by his flatmate-turned-boyfriend.”

“I’ll tell you what—”

“Didn’t we already make a deal?”

“I’ll tell you what: I won’t argue about you missing work or not having sex until I’m recovered if you let me take you to dinner once I’m healed and if we can snog as much as we like.”

"What makes you think I’ll agree to those terms?”

Harry shrugged. “If you don’t like those terms, I can come up with more. Now that I’m on bed rest, I’ve got plenty of time to think.”

“You’re not supposed to strain yourself,” Draco smirked when Harry glared at him.

Harry huffed. “You need to work on your bedside manner, Healer Malfoy.”

“I’ll get plenty of practice this week, then, won’t I?”

“Yes, you will. Now, can we get out of here? I want to start my healing regimen right away.”

Draco laughed and laced their fingers together. “Alright, Harry. Let’s go home.”

Send me an ask about Harry Potter, broadway/musicals, The West Wing, and/or Taylor Swift! Or just about life in general :).

Also, I have a playlist of my 99 most listened-to songs of the year so far. Pick a number 1--99 and send me an ask and I'll write you a fic based on it!

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hatterstan-shameblog · 3 years ago

Note

💫✨💕send this to ten bloggers you think are wonderful. keep the game going 💕✨

Have a nice day/night/dance battle with the peacocks! :D

Alright, since you are a) very cool and fun and b) you took the time to send such a lovely message, I’m going to give you a part of a fic series I started many moons ago and abandoned for other things

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Hatter Has Definitely Kissed Every Executive At Least Once And This Is How It Went: Ann Edition

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Rating: PG-13

Tags: Alcohol, shenanigans, everyone’s cutting loose, mild reluctance (but these people don’t turn down dares so y’know)

Summary: As a “team building” exercise, all of the Executives have met for a little get-together; and with alcohol and a rousing game of “truth or dare” involved, what could possibly go wrong?

“Ann,” Chisiya says, “truth or dare?”

Ann sighs. Her red-lacquered fingernails tap rhythmically against the green of a beer bottle, the glassy sound barely audible above the chatting of the half-drunk executives.

“I already told you, I’m not playing.”

“The fuck you aren’t,” Niragi snaps, grip on his rifle tightening as he downs another shot of vodka, “no skips, that’s the rule.”

“If I had to do it, you have to do it,” Keiichi offers mournfully, taking a sad sip of bourbon from a crystal-cut glass, “it’s only fair.”

Ann turns her attention towards Hatter. He’s taking a healthy swig from—ew, is that a bottle of peppermint schnapps? She wrinkles her nose in disgust as he raises his eyebrows in a suggestive arch.

“This is a terrible idea,” she tells him for the fourth time in the last hour, “and you should feel bad for making us do this.”

“Ann. Sweet, darling,” Hatter takes note of her unimpressed grimace, “angry Ann. This is all an exercise in trust. A way for all of us executives to bond.”

“And because he loves the drama,” Aguni adds.

“I really do,” Hatter says wistfully, “So, come on. One round and then you can go back to summoning demons or whatever you do in your little basement crypt.”

Ann sighs. Everyone is looking at her with expectant eyes. She finishes the rest of her beer and puts the empty bottle on the table.

“Fine,” she says, “One round, and then I’m leaving.”

“The ice queen giveth in,” Chisiya says, the corners of his mouth turning up onto a mischievous grin, “So, pick your poison. Truth...or dare?”

“Dare,” Ann says coolly, and the room erupts. Even Last Boss, who had been lurking in the corner until now, gasps. In a rare show of camaraderie, Niragi slaps Chisiya on the back and tells him to ‘give that bitch a good one.’

Imbeciles. All of them.

“Everyone gather ‘round the table,” Chisiya purrs—yes, purrs—as he looks her with a twinkle in his eye, “because this particular date involves each and every one of you.”

“Even me?” asks Last Boss.

“But of course,” Chisiya says, “we need everyone if we’re going to play...spin the bottle.”

Ann feels the blood drain from her face. Oh, this little blond twerp is despicable. He is evil and terrible and—

“No re-spins. No backing out. The kiss must last a minimum of five seconds, but it can go longer if you feel so inclined.”

“I won’t,” Ann answers curtly. There is not a person in this room she could ever want to kiss. (Except for Mira, but. Well. That’s a thought for another day.)

“I don’t know,” Niragi says with an exaggerated flick of his tongue, the silver piercing winking at her in a supposedly seductive manner, “once you get a taste of a real man, you might find yourself hooked.”

“Perhaps Niragi wouldn’t be so bad,” Mira muses with a serene smile, “his oral fixation is off-putting on the best of days, but it might translate well to a more intimate experience. That is, until he starts talking again. Then it’ll be terrible.”

Niragi’s face twists into a sharp scowl as he tries to sputter a comeback; drunkenness and embarrassment have apparently robbed him of his mental faculties, so he crosses his arms over his chest and pouts.

“Alright, let’s get this over with,” Ann says with a huff.

She places her empty beer bottle, label-side down, on the long wooden table. For the first time this evening, everyone is silent. Honestly, it’s kind of nice—it would be better if she didn’t have to end up kissing one of them, but, beggars can’t be choosers.

“You know,” Ann says, “there is a possibility it could land on me. Does that mean I don’t have to kiss anyone?”

“That means you get to choose,” Chisiya says, “which...well, that will most certainly add some spice to the night, wouldn’t it?”

“Very evil,” Aguni concludes with a nod, “I like it.”

Hm. Well, it was worth a shot.

With one final, annoyed sigh, Ann places her hand on the bottle and gives it a powerful spin. Maybe it’ll spin right off the table and shatter on the floor. She wouldn’t have to do anything weird, and then she could just go back to her room and take a long bath. Alone. The way the universe intended.

It’s impossible not to watch the bottle spin, light refracting off the glass and casting flickering spots of light around the room. It’s just a kiss. She’s kissed people before. Many people. At least two.

Friends kiss each other all the time. Not her friends, but other people and their friends. And these people aren’t really ‘friends,’ but they’re...acquaintances. Colleagues. Does that make it better or worse?

It’s slowing down now. With each passing second, her fate is being decided by the neck of the bottle. Mira, Last Boss, Keiichi—oh, God, please don’t let it be Keiichi, they have a meeting in the morning, that would be so awkward...

But, luckily, the bottle does not land on Keiichi. It does not land on Niragi, nor does it land on Chisiya. Last Boss has also been spared, as have Aguni and Mira. That leaves only one candidate...

“Oh, Ann,” Hatter says, clapping his hands together and looking entirely too pleased with this very strange turn of events, “I always knew there was something between us!”

The thing he’s talking about is tolerance—she tolerates him because it is both sensible and beneficial to be on his good side. He also, surprisingly enough, defers to her expertise on certain matters, which is more than can be said for her previous employers. They are friendly, certainly, but most certainly not friends.

And...lovers?

Out of the question.

But Fate (and a smug little blonde) have decided that they share a moment of passion. Could she have spun worse? Yes. Could she have spun better? Absolutely. 100%. Without a doubt.

But Ann is a woman of integrity. When she commits, she commits. And so, as she walks to the other side of the table, she keeps her spine straight and her head held high. She refuses to let these people see her falter.

“In addition to the parameters already given, I’d like to establish some rules of my own,” she says coolly, barely resisting the temptation to roll her eyes when he takes another gulp of alcohol. Yep, that’s definitely peppermint schnapps he has—she can tell by the stench of it, the way it’s sharpness burns at her eyes.

She’s always hated peppermint schnapps.

“Fine, fine,” Hatter says with a wave of his hand, “as long as you promise not to fall completely in love with me in the process.”

That gets a laugh from everyone—and even Ann considers cracking a smile at the thought of someone like her ever feeling something for someone like him.

“No tongue. No teeth. And,” Ann tell him firmly, “if you want to leave this room with your balls intact, I suggest you keep your hands to yourself.”

The group ooh’s at that. Ann doesn’t look at them. She keeps her gaze focused on the man in front of her, watching him intently for any signs of weakness.

All she gets is a smirk.

“I would expect nothing less of you, Ann,” he replies, “however, you’re more than welcome to put your hands anywhere on my person.”

He leans in slightly, almost as if he’s letting her in on a secret.

“I could even give you a few suggestions, if you like.”

What a perfectly hideous thing for him to say. It doesn’t help that he’s fluttering his eyelashes at her like some kind of lovestruck cartoon character.

It’s annoying.

He’s annoying.

With a roll of her eyes, Ann grabs Takeru by the silk of his obnoxious robe and crashes her mouth against his-- because she’ll be damned if he’s the one kissing her.

Five...

The group gasps-- Takeru included, the noise muffled by the seal of their lips as she kisses him fully and firmly.

Four...

And it’s...not as gross as it could be, but it’s still a very odd experience. His lips are soft enough, and his beard-moustache-whatever-the-fuck is scratchy in a way that is. Well, it’s interesting. Not good, but...interesting.

Three...

“This is fucking weird,” Niragi shouts, sounding very disgusted.

Two...

“It’s like watching my parents,” Last Boss adds, “when they were still trying to convince my sister and I they were still in love and weren’t going to get a divorce.”

One...

And done.

“Okay,” Ann says flatly as she pulls away and swallows a grimace at the sight of her favorite shade of lipstick on Takeru’s lips (and is actually a very nice compliment to his skin tone, frustratingly enough) “Can I go now.”

For good measure, she releases his robe with a disdainful flick of her fingers and subtly brushes her hands off on her shorts. It’s not enough to get the scent of peppermint schnapps and awkwardness off of her skin, but it can’t hurt.

“A deal’s a deal,” Chisiya concedes, his eternally mischievous smirk stretched across his cheeks, “And I must say, I didn’t expect you to fulfill your end of the bargain so...enthusiastically.”

“That’s because nobody can resist me,” Takeru gloats, bottle of alcohol back in his grip as if it had never truly left, “It’s not her fault I’m so delectable--”

“Detestable,” Ann corrects under her breath.

“--And, even though you’ll try to deny it,” Takeru continues, disregarding her comment, “both of us know that there’s a part of you that liked kissing me.”

“I liked the part when she stopped,” Mira chirps cheerfully, “In fact, I think we all did!”

“You have no idea,” Aguni murmurs solemnly into his drink, his eyes darting towards Takeru with an unimpressed look. That’s...hm, there’s clearly some kind of story there, although Ann isn’t sure she wants to know about it.

Everyone begins talking amongst themselves once again-- Niragi has offered to spin the bottle next, and there’s a small argument breaking out over whether or not the group should continue with their original game of ‘truth or dare’ or pivot to this new one.

And, Ann?

Ann doesn’t stick around to find out.

#writings and such #alice in borderland #alice in borderland netflix #hatter/ann #what a horrifically cursed tag #NOBODY IS SAFE y'all better watch out #ann rizuna #danma takeru #last boss #niragi suguru #takatora samura #aguni morizono #mira kano #chisiya shuntaro #keiichi kuzuryu #fun fact: this takes place before arisu shows up so that's why he's not here

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gentrychild · 4 years ago

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BNHA chapter 291 reactions

That’s one adorable child and that’s also one horrible way to die.

Not that we’re sure that he actually die, since 1. He is here and living his full theater kid potential. 2. For anyone who is reading BNHA vigilante, you would know that it’s not the first time AFO grabbed a hero student who may or may not have died.

Now, my question is “Where do that lower jaw bone came from?” Can you still extract DNA from something that was practically cremated? If not, does AFO have a room with a bunch of bones that he can drop on his way out?

Also, how old is Touya here? I know he looks younger than he is but is he old enough to be in UA?

I. Need. Answers.

That’s the second kid who got white hair after a ridiculously powerful quirk appeared and I now have other questions.

Such as, will I get a white-haired-Izuku anytime soon?

By the way, can we consider that Tenko and Touya have quirk singularities?

1. I can hear half of the writing community weeping because Touya had red hair. And at least one other person grumbling because Touya changing hair color with the seasons.

2. It’s incredible how tiny Touya doesn’t look like the Touya we know. He had a completely different demeanor.

3. Good to know Endeavor was not always a dick.

Don’t mind me, I am just fascinated at seeing tiny Touya looking at Baby Fuyumi (while clutching my chest because them being twins is jossed). That’s the most adorable thing I have ever seen.

Also, very relieved to know that Rei agreed to have several kids.

Now, I need to know what happened to make that family collapse.

Touya is wearing different clothes than in the first image so that means he might have some resistance at first but his fire grew too hot for his body.

Now, my question is: how come he couldn’t regulate the temperature of his flames like fire users in his family?

Am I... feeling bad... for Endeavor?

Oh my.

You know, you might have been invited if he had known you were alive.

I love Dabi’s face here. He is such a little shit.

Reminder that they are all stuck here until Shigaraki actually tells Machia to move.

I don’t know about you but I find it absolutely hilarious that Gigantomachia picked them up, brought them to the most dangerous place in the whole combat zone as the number 1 hero and the craziest hero students around are here, and is now refusing to move.

Honestly? If Dabi wasn’t accidentally holding the floor, they would have been incinerated.

What are you trying to say, Harima Oji?

Are you a secret Todoroki family member too?

Or did you hear Shigaraki call Izuku little brother and you’re now trying to wrap your mind around everyone around here apparently being related and this war being the messiest Sunday family dinner ever?

I actually wanted to talk about that because this DNA test is absolutely useless. I can assure you that people probably can’t even read those pages and even if they can, it would be just so easily to fake.

Actually, you know what? If Dabi didn’t do that on his computer on his own, I would just be so disappointed because waving a DNA around is just pointless in this situation.

Especially as I don’t see when he had the time to get some blood from the Kyushu fight? He only had the time to take two steps in Endeavor’s direction before running like hell when Miruko arrived (which was a rare sign of common sense, so kudos to him, I guess.)

You hear that sound?

That’s the sound of Dabi destroying his family every chance at being normal once again. Forget all the progress they made, they will now be under public scrutiny forever, everyone having an opinion on their family.

That will wreck them.

And I am not even talking about Rei.

I see that at this point, Dabi is just ending for everyone’s career...

I am just going to stay there and stare at the wall as I am thinking about Dabi broascasting a murder on every screen of the country.

That’s just so disrespectful to Twice. He fought for his friends and instead, Dabi turned his last moment in him desperately pleading.

Also, that was a really dumb move.

Listen here, kids, when you throw a mind-breaking revelation at someone, you stick as close to the truth as possible because if people find anything that doesn’t make sense, your whole story will be doubted.

Also, casual reminder...

Hawks recorded what was going on.

That means that if this recording thing is found, they can discredit Dabi’s entire story.

At this point, I am just trying to see if he still has his wings. That’s all I am asking. A confirmation that his feathers will grow back.

Just... stay asleep, Hawks. Rest for a week or two so someone can sort this mess. That’s your best course of action because if you woke up now, you would probably crawl back into a coma.

Was that a bird pun?

Now, that’s just being mean.

I think I remember than in Japan, being related to a criminal is not good, but since BNHA is set in the future, maybe things changed?

If not, I am curious to see how this revelation will affect Hawks. You know, just for sociological purposes.

*hangs on to Izuku who is related to the worst villain this country had ever know, and who actually destroyed Kamino and almost murdered All Might not too long ago*

*squints as I am trying to know what they are advertising*

Dabi: “Think more critically! Try to see things through my point of view, right after I admitted I killed 30 people!”

Reminder that the OG group who fought Shigaraki sacrificed everything to stall him, they are half dead, and they are now facing the end of their society as they know it.

That’s what despair looks like.

Be careful what you wish for, Todoroki Enji.

Shouto is just breaking my heart right now. This is a nightmare. He is the boy who made sure that they were alone when he told Midoriya about his family history. He is the boy who was just started to consider forgiving his father, or at the very least, working so their family would be happy. Things were starting to get better, and now, he has to deal with imminent death, his, his friends and his father.

He isn’t even asking Endeavor to fight Dabi. He will do it. He must know that Nejire and him simply can’t win against the LoV and Gigantomachia but it’s not like there is anyone else.

Everyone is down and right now, the number 1 hero is too shocked to even blink, and if he doesn’t pull himself together in the next second, they are going to die.

Damnit, Shouto actually called him father.

Hey, remember that attack that incinerated a noumu with Regeneration? That attack that Endeavor had to use high in the sky or the collateral damage would have been hellish, in every sense of the word?

Yeah, they almost all died right there.

WE STAN ONE HERO.

BEAST JEANIST, BACK FROM THE DEAD, READY TO JUDGE DABI FOR HIS CRIMES AGAINST FASHION (and also the war crimes, if you insist).

THAT’S WHY YOU FACT CHECK EVERYTHING, DABI. SO YOU DON’T LOOK LIKE AN IMBECILE AFTER YOU ACCUSED THE NUMBER 2 HERO OF KILLING THE MOST FABULOUS MAN OF THE COUNTRY.

#bnha 291 #bnha spoilers #bnha #bnha reactions

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keichanz · 4 years ago

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Mistake

kay so i really don't care if some of this doesn't make sense because this is the first thing i've written in a while that i don't absolutely hate. well this version at least. ending up scraping the first draft because it just seemed wrong and went in a different direction. im glad i did cause im happy with it.

anyway i realize that this may not get much feedback because i took a different approach to it, aka the entire pov is from an OC but i can't bring myself to care too much because i wrote this purely for myself. got inspired, started writing, and i actually liked the content i was writing. end of.

btw the oc doesn't refer to inuyasha as a half-demon because he's unaware he is one and i was too lazy to delve into those waters anyhow.

also for the sake of this oneshot pls dont look too closely at the ranks of diplomat and ambassador. i was too lazy to put much research regarding positions of power so just...go with it.

inspired by @stillunderyourbed's art that can be found here.

It was…quaint. Smaller than what he'd expected. The housing structures looked subpar, there didn't appear to be any wooden walkways, and he could detect the distinct odor or fish in the air with hints of manure. There even seemed to be a perpetual dust cloud hovering at about waist high, thickening from the numerous carts, wagons, horses, and villagers kicking up dirt as they went about their daily lives. Already he felt like there was a layer of dust caked on the inside of his lungs and he wasn't even inside yet.

All in all, it was your typical countryside village, home to simple folk that made a living off of fishing, farming, and trade. The diplomat sneered in disgust. For being the rumored home of the creature strong enough to destroy the despicable Naraku, the village was…less than impressive. And to say that he was underwhelmed would be a vast understatement.

Shifting atop his mount, a chestnut gelding that had been his faithful companion for the last four years, Takeji frowned as he surveyed the sight before him. It was early afternoon, so men were out working in the fields, women were chatting amongst themselves as they laundered clothing at the river, and children were running about, playing and laughing while dogs barked at their heels. He could see the great red torii gate and the stone staircase that led to the shrine and he could hardly refrain from rolling his eyes.

The village was obviously poor, possibly even teetering on the edge of poverty, and instead of feeding themselves for a good long while, they decided to construct that monstrosity. He would never understand the minds of simple common folk. Daft. All of them.

Barely keeping himself from scowling, Takeji reluctantly climbed off his mount and forced himself to move forward into the pathetic excuse for a village. Already he knew he would have to burn his expensive attire; there would be no getting the dust and stench out of it after his ghastly visit. A visit he had not wanted to make, but being a highly revered and prestigious diplomat, it was his duty to travel to far off lands in hopes of establishing a profitable relationship that would ultimately benefit his homeland.

Although, looking around and fighting against the urge to retch at both the nauseating stench and the mere sight of all the unwashed villagers milling around, Takeji wondered not for the first time why he even bothered to accept this task. True, it was said the slayer of Naraku did hail from here, but surely having his homeland associated with this hovel would garner nothing but loss. So why had he agreed to come?

Oh, yes, he mused, grimacing as he stepped over a large manure pile right in the middle of the road. Because apparently, being all chummy with the nation's hero will allow us to have him at our beck and call, because who doesn't want a powerful demon capable of slaying the most evil demon in all of existence as an intimidating presence during negotiations, and let's not forget he alone would be equal to about one hundred soldiers in battle.

Rolling his eyes, Takeji tied his mount to a hitching post, withdrew his satchel with all the necessary paperwork, and set about finding this Inuyasha fellow. He'd been told the demon wore scarlet robes, carried a sword at his hip, and had white hair so no doubt he would stick out like a sore thumb amongst the droll browns and grays of the common folk, which suited him just fine. The sooner he was done, the sooner he could leave because there was no way he was staying even a second more in this village than he had to. Even if the next inn was hours away, he'd make the journey; the inn here was probably as unclean and riddled with bed bugs or something. Ugh. How vile.

Shrugging the satchel over his shoulder, Takeji bit back a groan, sighed, and hadn't even made it a single step before the sound of screaming froze him in his tracks. He gasped and immediately started looking for the danger, body tense, preparing to hop back onto his steed lightning fast and make a hasty getaway.

But as he looked around with wide eyes and a frantically beating heart, Takeji couldn't help but notice that he was the only one that appeared to have heard the sound of terror. The villagers were just continuing to go about their day, calm as you please, either severely deaf or completely uncaring. Takeji was beginning to wonder if he was perhaps hearing things when it happened again, a high-pitched sound that he realized with dread belonged to a child.

Takeji gaped. A child was in danger and nobody cared?! What kind of village was this?! Another shriek pierced the air, and Takeji made a decision. Very well; if these imbeciles weren't going to do anything about it, then he himself would see to the danger. While by no means a swordsman or warrior, he did have some weapons training he could fall back on for this precise reason. Traveling alone was dangerous, and you never knew what you would encounter.

Resolved, the diplomat set his jaw, unsheathed the dagger at his waist, and darted toward the direction the screams were coming from. He meandered between houses, hoped over lazing dogs, dodged startled villagers in his path, and he came into a small clearing by the forest's edge. The sight that greeted him was…not what he expected.

Coming up short, Takeji watched with a befuddled frown as one child chased around two other, slightly older looking children. One might think they were playing a game of sorts, and the diplomat started to believe that was indeed the case…until the one doing the chasing, clad in red, suddenly jumped high into the air, over the heads of the other two children, and landed before them with hands raised.

Hands, Takeji noticed with growing dread and disgust, tipped with claws on each finger and he quickly realized what exactly was happening. That wicked little demon brat, that creature was toying with those helpless children! It was keeping them trapped, preventing them from running away by leaping over their heads and blocking their route of escape! They screamed, the demon child laughed, and so potent was his fury, so enraged was he for the fact that the villagers apparently did not care about what was happening right beneath their noses, Takeji failed to notice the wide smiles on all three of the young one's faces. The blood pounding in his ears prevented him from hearing the gleeful giggles as the two human kids scrambled away from the one clad in red, and without another thought, Takeji moved.

"Run, children!" Takeji ordered as he hurled himself into the clearing, dagger raised as he charged toward the demon brat with a baleful glare. "I will take care of his filthy animal!"

All three children froze in place, eyes wide as Takeji inserted himself between the two human children - twin girls, he idly noted - and the demon spawn that dared raised its claws toward them. The brat stared up at him with big brown eyes and it - she - actually looked confused. Takeji scowled. He would not fall for such a ploy.

"I will not allow you to harm them," he spat and pointed his dagger at her. The child blinked at him and then looked behind him at the two girls who still had not taken the chance to flee. In shock, perhaps? Stunned? No matter; they were safe, so long as he stood between them and the threat.

The demon child made a face and started to walk around him, completely disregarding the weapon trained on her, but Takeji shifted and stopped her once more. He heard the two behind him whispering as the spawn looked up at him once again, this time frowning at him with narrowed eyes. And was that a growl he heard? He snorted. Was she actually trying to appear threatening? Pathetic.

Scowling, Takeji lifted a foot, placed it on her stomach, and shoved. The demon gasped as she stumbled back and then landed on her behind with a small grunt. He heard a gasp from behind him, urgent whispering, and then hurried scrambling. A glance over his shoulder told him they'd finally gotten wise and ran away. He nodded. Good. Now he could deal with this vermin without innocent eyes to bear witness.

But as he stared down at the pathetic sight before him, Takeji wondered maybe if such measures would even be necessary. The beast was still lying where she had fallen and was staring up at him with wide eyes brimming with…wait. What? Were those tears? Oh, you have got to be joking.

Rolling his eyes, the diplomat scoffed at the pathetic play for mercy and careless waved his dagger at her. The child actually flinched and followed the blade with her gaze, wariness clear in her eyes. Well. It appeared her self-preservation instincts have finally kicked in.

"Cease your theatrics," Takeji drawled, unimpressed. "They do not fool me. Now lucky for you, demon spawn, the pathetic sight you project has made me decide to spare your life. Your tainted blood is not worthy enough to soil my blade, so I will say this only one and you would do well to heed this warning, beast."

Hardening his stare and curling his lip into a sneer, Takeji spat, "Leave this place at once and do not return. There is no place for the likes of you, an abomination that preys on helpless children. Now get out of my sight, afore I kill you on principle. Your vile presence disgusts me."

The child grunted and Takeji watched, stone faced, as she got to her feet. Then to his surprise the little demon balled her hands into fists at her sides and glared at him, but the effect was ruined by the tears he could clearly see brimming her eyes. He cocked a brow, unmoved. She sniffled once, twice, and then to his utter surprise and bafflement, her face suddenly crumbled, her lower lip trembled, and she promptly burst into loud tears before spinning on her heel and running away.

"P-Papaaaaaaaaaaa!"

Takeji frowned. Papa? Were the brat's kin nearby, then? Body tense and weapon raised, he waited, prepared to either fight or flee - because he wasn't a fool and knew when he was in over his head - but when no demons came bursting out of the tree line, Takeji slowly relaxed.

Bewildered and more than a little annoyed at the whole debacle - what a waste of time! - the diplomat scoffed in derision as he turned to watch the little demon brat scurry away. And then right at that exact moment, a figure donned in red dropped to the ground seemingly out of nowhere and Takeji felt a wave of relief sweep through him. Finally! This had to be his demon quarry.

Nodding, Takeji stepped forward and opened his mouth to call out a greeting—

And then froze in his tracks as the greeting abruptly died on his tongue. Because the little demon girl, the one he'd just pointed his weapon at and shoved to the ground, ran straight to the figure robed in red and Takeji could do naught but watch with a growing sense of horrified dread as the older demon knelt down to take the child into his arms.

All color promptly drained from his face and Takeji suddenly felt sick to his stomach. He glanced behind the pair and he was somehow not at all surprised to find the twin girls from earlier glaring at them and holding onto the skirts of their mother with a monk garbed in violet robes beside her. They too were staring at him in a not so friendly manner, but upon returning his gaze to the two demons, Takeji numbly thought that if looks could kill, he would surely be dead by now.

Because the demon robed in red - which was now unmistakably the child's father and none other than Inuyasha, the demon he'd come here for - was glaring absolute murder at him and it was obvious that he was. Not. Pleased.

Takeji swallowed and unconsciously backed up a step. With one small hand fisting her father's robes, the child had the other pointing an accusatory finger at him as she no doubt recited to him their earlier…ah, exchange. Inuyasha said nothing in response, but he didn't need to. The deep, nearly subsonic growl that erupted from his mouth, complete with fully bared fangs in a truly fearsome snarl, told him very clearly of his thoughts on his daughter's mistreatment by him.

Which, if Takeji had to guess, were not very Takeji-friendly. At all.

Somehow managing to fight against the urge to flee, Takeji swallowed hard as Inuyasha pushed to his feet and stalked toward him with that same murderous look on his face. Something told him, perhaps some deeply rooted self-preservation instinct, that if he even tried to run right then, it would not end well for him. So he remained where he was and tried valiantly to control the trembling in his body as he slowly, very slowly, tucked his dagger back from whence it came.

Inuyasha stopped in front of him and Takeji cleared his throat before attempting a placating smile, but it looked more like a grimace than anything. "Ah…I assume you are…In—"

One second Takeji was staring into the scowling features of one pissed off dog demon. The next there was a bright flash of light and then he was staring at the business end of a very large and very sharp sword. With the tip just a hair's breadth away from his nose, Takeji gasped sharply and stumbled back a step out of instinct.

Sweet merciful heavens! How—?

"Usually I'd ask who the fuck you are," the demon growled, his eyes twin slits of baleful gold. "But honestly, I can't really bring myself to care enough to know the name of the asshole who threatened my daughter when she was doing nothing but playing with her friends."

Takeji blanched for the second time and he could actually feel himself breaking out in a cold sweat. He fucked up. Oh dear god he'd fucked up so bad—

"There's—there's been a misunderstanding," Takeji tried in a voice higher than usual, raising his hands up in what he hoped was a placating gesture as he eyed the very sharp point of that blade. "I—I admit I've made a grave mistake—"

"Shut the fuck up and tell me why I shouldn't gut you where you stand," Inuyasha hissed, lips feeling back off his fangs in another fierce snarl. With his ears pinned back and those golden eyes glaring absolute death at him, the demon made quite the menacing picture. Takeji had the brief, if a bit ludicrous thought, that perhaps the demon Naraku perished from the sheer animosity that was coming off of the silver-haired demon in waves.

Swallowing once, twice, Takeji realized that he only had his quick wit to get him out of his certain predicament. So bracing himself, he opened his mouth—

"He's from the continent, Inuyasha. You can't hurt him."

Startled hazel eyes swung toward the source of the voice but amber eyes stayed locked on their target, the only acknowledgment of the voice a flick of an ear.

The owner of the voice the human diplomat could only presume was the child's mother, as the child in question was standing behind her legs and was actually smirking at him. He frowned.

"You're from Shenshi," the woman remarked and Takeji swung his gaze back to her. "Right?"

Though her expression wasn't openly friendly, it wasn't exactly unfriendly either, however the human diplomat still felt he needed to tread carefully. Because while her face didn't betray anything, her stare was hard and her mouth had tightened into a thin, flat line. She had one hand on her daughter's head while the other clutched a longbow, and belatedly he realized she had a quiver of arrows slung across her back. He barely held in a flinch as he realized this was one of the demon's companions that had assisted in slaying Naraku, possibly the young woman in which Inuyasha held a more meaningful relationship.

A much more meaningful relationship, if the child currently glaring daggers at him was anything to go by since she was more or less living proof of it.

Wonderful. So he'd gone and threatened the only child of two of the most powerful beings in Japan. Clearly he'd stepped over the wrong grave and pissed somebody off.

Clearing his throat and aiming a strained smile toward the woman who was still awaiting his reply, Takeji nodded once. "Ah, y-yes, my lady. I'm—"

"The diplomat Ambassador Sharaku sent to convince Inuyasha to join his ranks so he'd have the support and protection of 'The Great Slayer of Naraku.'" The woman raised a delicate brow at him. "How am I doing so far?"

Takeji had the good grace to look a mite sheepish. "Ah…well—"

"You can't kill him, Inuyasha," she repeated and Takeji thought she sounded disappointed. "If he goes missing, the ambassador will send his troops to find out what happened or if he returns injured, it could be taken as an insult and you can imagine what would happen after that. You would risk mine or Moroha's life like that, and you know it."

Inuyasha growled but said nothing to refute her words, so Takeji assumed he agreed.

"He threatened her, Kagome," the demon spat, inching the blade closer to his throat and Takeji flinched. "Called her a fucking animal, shoved her down, and waved a goddamn dagger in her face! You can't honestly expect me to let that—"

"Papa," the child - Moroha - suddenly said, successfully stalling her father's angry tirade. A quick glance revealed the girl, still sticking close to her mother, was staring at the older demon with big brown eyes, bright with the threat of tears as she worried her bottom lip. And evidently the sight was enough to calm the raging storm of Inuyasha's fury because he grimaced, released a low growl, and then Takeji watched in stunned amazement as the massive sword suddenly transformed into a rusty katana before it was sheathed at his hip.

With a weapon no longer at his throat, Takeji could breathe a little easier and he released a breath he hadn't even been aware he'd been holding. But then he sucked it right back in when Inuyasha suddenly stepped in close and got in his face, a low, threatening growl leaking past rightly clenched teeth bared in another snarl. Golden eyes bore into his own, filled with a lethal warning that had the human male's back straightening and his blood to run cold in his veins.

"You listen carefully, asshole," Inuyasha hissed, glaring so heatedly it was a wonder Takeji didn't burst into flame. "Don't you dare think that my wife's words have any sort of sway over my decision to spare your pathetic life. I'm not scared of your weakling ambassador and I sure as hell ain't scared of his little human army. No, the only reason that I let you live is because I don't want my daughter, the one you foolishly threatened when she had done nothing wrong, to see me sully my hands with your disgusting blood when I reduce you to nothing more than a bloody smear on the ground."

Takeji paled and swallowed thickly. That particular image was…not pleasant.

Inuyasha watched the color drain from his face. Satisfied, he sneered before saying in a growl filled with sinister promise, "Now get the fuck outta my village and if you ever touch my daughter again, I'll gut you so fast you won't even have time to fucking scream."

Then with that, Inuyasha leveled him with one last dark scowl before spinning on his heel and stalking away, a clear dismissal. Neither mother nor daughter even spared the frozen human male a glance as Inuyasha paused to pick his daughter up into his arms before striding away, his wife close to one side and his friends on the other.

From over his shoulder, Takeji could only watch in a mixture of shock and befuddlement as the little demon girl named Moroha smirked and then stuck her tongue out at him, safe and sound in her father's arms.

Left standing in a state of numb bewilderment, Takeji blinked, looked down at himself, and had the passing thought that it was a very good thing he'd decided to wear brown trousers that day.

#mistake #inuyasha fanfiction #inuyasha #inukag #moroha #oneshot #keizfanfiction #papayasha to the rescuuuuue #i deliberately did not tag anybody in this and no i will not say why #and yes i did use sharaku because it sounds like naraku #listen dont fuck with his wife or kid #you will die #if you dont understand that last sentence #tough shit im not explaining it lmao

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