#and yes its still sexism when women do this

[dazeddoodles]

I'm really sorry for what you've been through because of those harassers. I feel angry on your behalf and I'm always on your side.

Scrolling those harassers' accounts, I can tell that they're also misogynists. You're right that they always praise Hunter for the same reasons they hate Amity or Luz. They even think the show favors female characters over male ones. They hate that Luz, the main character who is a girl, and her main sapphic relationship are more loved. More ironically, they always talk about Hunter and insert him everywhere. They constantly say that his trauma is more genuine than Luz's and Amity's or he's the real abused victim, not Amity. Lastly, Willow, they don't gaf about her unless it's something involving Hunter. Yet they're still yapping that he's overshadowed by girl characters. In most shows, side male characters always upstage female ones, especially female protagonists, and it irritates me. That's why I love TOH, because Luz and her sapphic relationship still have the most attention. Still, there is a lot of misogyny in the fandom and it needs to be called out. I'm certain that those harassed you will face karmas for what they did.

Exactly, the problem with these people is that their "criticism" is built off of their own biases that they refuse to acknowledge, and instead act as though it is a flaw with the show for not having their female characters be reduced down to a single easy caricature, or revolve around a man. Like is expected from female characters in media.

But thank you for the kind message, and thanks as well to everyone else who continues to support me.

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being Johnny Lawrence’s daughter

Johnny Lawrence x daughter!reader

warnings: alcohol, underage drinking, classic johnny sexism <3

a/n: WHAT! ME write a fic thats not gn, i know. im shocked too but its just bc i feel johnny is so gender-stereotypey that doing this gn wouldn’t work very well but very open to a son!r or nb!r if anyone is interested (bc seriously. johnny cannot help but bring up genders). also i just want to say that a lot of this (not all!) honestly reminds me of or are actual things that have happened w my dad bc johnny is literally my dad if my dad was like 8 years older i think also i wrote this all in one sitting ALSO NO COBRA KAI SEASON 6 SPOILERS

prompt:

GIRL DAD!

you always kinda just gravitated toward living with your dad

“y/n, i’m so proud of you. i never have to worry about you. you can take care of yourself. robby on the other hand, i worry about him. i think girls are just more self sufficient” -johnny, a little drunk

“thanks dad” -you, also a little drunk (hes a “cool dad”)

he was the type of parent that “prefers that if you’re gonna do something stupid at least do it while he’s around” aka underage drinking

whenever he stays out late you fall asleep in his bed. and lock him out

“y/n! open the door!” -johnny, banging on the door

“no! your bed is more comfortable” -you

he thought it was sweet honestly but he did want to sleep in his bed

sort of like a lesson not to come home late all drunk and gross

he was VERY against letting you drive his car

“dad, i need my license!” -you

“no woman is getting behind the wheel of my firebird” -johnny

“why do you have to make it about women? i’ll fight you” -you

“you’ll lose that fight” -johnny

“oh, so you’d fight a teenage girl? wow, real classy, dad” -you

“no, but i’d fight my teenage daughter. i brought you into this world and i’ll take you out” -johnny

you honestly had a great sense of humor with johnny, but you’d check him if he said anything too messed up

“dad, it’s not the 80’s anymore, you can’t say that” -you

“dont tell me what i can and cant say! the 80’s were awesome, i wish it was the 80’s again” -johnny

“so i’ve heard” -you

he helped you with your homework as a kid until like, 2nd grade when multiplication and division got involved

he did teach you karate growing up! but mostly the basics, for self defense purposes

“hey, never let any guy try to impress you with his karate skills. he’s probably a douche” -johnny, pausing “i sure was”

late night movie marathons (70s/80s classics for sure)

he took care of you during your first hangover (high school parties, ya know)

“didn’t i teach you better than to mix liquors” -johnny

“ugghhhh” -you

yes, you have heard about daniel larusso. enough said LMAO

robby and you had a kind of sweet but distant relationship

occasional check-in texts

robby: are you doing okay with dad? he’s actually buying food and shit?

you: yeah! he’s fine right now, how’s mom? new stepdad yet? is he rich?

robby: mom’s not going anywhere she’d find a rich guy, but keep dreaming

you wear a lot of your dad’s old t-shirts. usually band tee’s

oh and he made sure you got into the “right music”

he used to drive you around in the firebird when you were a SMALL CHILD (front seat, no car seat!) and blast his old cassettes

for YEARS he’d pull the “who is this” “what song is this” game with the reasoning:

“if you wear a band shirt and some asshole asks you to name three songs, i want you to name ten” -johnny

listen. you were still “daddy’s girl” or whatever used to be a cute little saying and is now ruined but whatever

“dad, can i have twenty bucks?” -you

“for what” -johnny

“for fun. pleaseeee” -you

*johnny pulls out his wallet and gives you $40*

could he afford it? no. can he say no? also no.

the absolute fear he felt when you got your first period

“it’s fine, i can call mom” -you

“no, it’s not fine! i’ve had girlfriends before, i got this. stay here, i’ll be back” -johnny

he went to the store and bought the most random assortment of period products and pain meds and snacks and a heating pad

A for effort

when the diaz family moved in across from you guys, miguel took one look at you and johnny said:

“stay away from my daughter”

when the karate fuss got started you tried to keep your distance but sooner or later you joined the dojo and proved to your dad just how “badass” you could be

“take notes everyone, y/n’s gonna be the next all valley champ!” -johnny

taglist: @ravenmoore14 // @retvenkos // @sweetheartlizzie07 // @an4aaa // @summersimmerus // @xoxobabydolls // @sapphireplums // @petersgroupie // @ravenhood2792 // @evilcr0ne // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @elenavampire21 // @elemental-of-magic //

[1shirt2shirtredshirtdeadshirt]

Sexism in TOS: Worst Offender, or Progressive in Retrospect in Comparison?

I see a lot of folks claim that TOS was the most sexist of the Star Trek shows by a landslide -- and while I agree that it definitely suffered from the sexism of the times, I also have other perspectives to share to give some food for thought.

I am of course not insinuating that TOS isn't sexist -- it is, but I have to ask folks to consider the breadth and depth of Berman's sexism in his run and ask yourself: Was Gene Roddenberry genuinely more sexist in his storytelling and delivery than Rick Berman?

I'm not telling you to feel one way or the other, but all I ask is that you hear me out and consider some perspectives and make your own balanced assessments. Nobody is obligated to share my opinion, but it means a lot just to have folks hear it and see their thoughts on the subject. So here is what I was originally responding to:

Someone's response to this photo:

"Devil's advocate. This was a part of the popular form of cardio during the production time of TNG. Yes, it was heavily sexualised by men, but so is literally every other way women work out. Men have been caught taking pictures of women while trying to do dead lifts, running on tracks and working on sled machines. They post them online to share too. The fact is, there is no way a woman can be shown working out without it going there. And yeah,t hat includes the combat forms of workout they do in Star Trek. Just look at how Dax dresses when she spars with Worf. Yes, they're dating, but still, same goes when 7 does and any other female.

Aerobics routines like this were made dirty and cringy. This was what women wore then by and large. This is how the workout was done. We make it cringy."

My response to them:

"I respect your take, but I disagree on a few fronts.

The miniskirt was chosen by the TOS female cast, not the male cast, specifically requested by Grace LW and affirmed by Nichelle and Majel who would go on to vehemently defend the miniskirt over the years as comfortable and embraced by them.

Grace said it was comfortable and seen as a symbol of female sexual empowerment during the 60s and thought it would be a progressive garment (and turns out that it was, as it was later adapted and worn by male crew as a skant on TNG) -- FYI those were designed by a gay man and Gene approved them.

This was also supposed to be Spock's TMP outfit:

Literally lingerie.

We saw both Uhura (who saves Kirk in from Marlena Mirror Mirror) and Yeoman Landon (the first to initiate combat with a classic Kirk-esque kick to help the Captain being attacked in The Apple) carry out their combat training in their Starfleet uniforms without ever being made to change into any ridiculous workout gear.

In fact, I'd argue Jim Kirk was sexualized even more than the ladies of the week on the show and I saw his naked body more than anyone else's on a fairly regular basis. He wore red yoga tights while topless in Charlie X while the women wore full length gymnastic suits that covered their entire body. If anything, it went out of its way to avoid sexualizing women practicing fitness in those scenes and instead focused on Kirk.

Gene confessed that he asked to have Shatner filmed in suggestive/provocative ways to "give something to the ladies", so he -- as he said -- liked to "film him walking away" or have him conveniently busting out of his shirts in just about every episode as it were, because Shatner apparently had great assets. LOL

Gene made an effort to at least sexualize both if he was going to sexualize one, and he carried that attitude forward in wanting the m/m and f/f scenes in the background on Risa for TNG. He also insisted that the men and women wear skimpy outfits on THAT TNG planet. You know the one. LOL I mean the dudes even had on less than the women:

Gene also gave permission to K/S shippers to have their conventions back in the 70s when he was asked for permission. Gene and Nimoy felt with all the skimpy outfits they had the ladies wear, why not let the ladies and gay men have their fun, too? It's how we ended up with moments like this:

Yes, those are two people dressed up as Kirk and Spock's penises doing interpretive dance. Gene didn't give two damns. LOL

In my eyes, that was a very progressive take on Gene's part for the 60s. It was actually PARAMOUNT STUDIOS who had the big problem with K/S stories and vehemently tried to shut them down. Gene literally hired slash authors on his payroll and even had several slash stories/writers published in his official Star Trek books (The New Voyages & The New Voyages II).

I feel I saw Uhura and women in TOS engaged in more physical combat/altercations defending themselves that Troi or Bev were shown holding their own.

In fact, Kirk used to get furious when someone would "dress up" his female crew members without their consent (Trelane episode, Shore Leave episode) because like his male crew members, he wanted them to be treated professionally and to also have his male crew act professionally.

Berman brought some of his own personal biases into Star Trek that in some ways regressed it. While TOS had blatant sexism and was called on it time and again, that show was made in the 60s -- a solid 21 years before TNG. We as a modern audience understood why some of it was cringe/sexist due to the time period -- look at any other media coming out in the 60s and Star Trek was miles ahead of what other shows were doing.

Compare that to Berman who was churning sexist stuff out when women like Starbuck and Scully were simultaneously on screen on other programs airing, and we had already had Sigourney Weaver and other strong women in Holywood playing respectful roles.

In my eyes, there was no need of the sexism seen in TNG but especially VOY and ENT. There was no excuse for it when other shows were writing women far better and a number of those weren't even set in the future like Trek was, making it age even faster due to having those dated perspectives frequently highlighted.

In the Center Seat documentary as well as "The Fifty Year Mission" book you will find cast members, writers and other studio alumni who attest to this. Some discussions from "The Fifty Year Mission":

"First, Berman was supposed to have been a real sleaze ball . . . According to Terry Farrel, he would go on constantly about how her breasts weren't big enough, how she should do something about it, and how his secretary was a good example to follow as she had huge breasts. She even had to have fittings to get larger bras, and that was all done at his behest.

Later Berman and Braga developed a name for Jeri Ryan's character prior Seven of Nine. They originally called the character "perineum" which if you look it up it is the area between the anus and the scrotum. Later they floated the name "6 of 9". I mean, what does it tell you about where these two were coming from in the development of this character if they had names like that put forward in all seriousness for her?"

Gene Roddenberry also had some of his own more progressive ideas for TNG cut or watered down by Berman. Roddenberry agreed TNG should have homosexual relationships and representation at a con in the 80s and insisted on it in a meeting with his writers -- something Berman later would not honor. Gene wanted the AIDS episode, showing m/m and f/f in the Riza scenes -- these were some of Roddenberry's requests to include in TNG that Berman later stonewalled.

Berman's era was sadly dated by his own misogynist bias, IMO, to the point that it can somewhat hurt the shows he worked on through his cringe egoism and blatant disrespect toward his female cast.

There is a reason why Gene could keep female actresses working with him and Berman had a revolving door of women that he couldn't seem to keep working for him -- he was abhorrent to women, on and off set. Gene wasn't perfect at all, he had a lot of issues himself -- but Berman was a whole other level. Just look at what he did to poor Jolene Blalock, Marina Sirtis and his toxic commenting on her body weight which exacerbated her struggles with eating disorders, or how he treated and talked to Terry Farrell.

Anyway, just some food for thought. I'm not saying anyone is wrong regarding a take like that, but there are a variety of ways to look at this. Gene Roddenberry isn't a saint by any means, but it definitely bothers me how folks will tote the Berman era as if it were the lesser of two evils or the more progressive depiction of women when I felt there were far more concerning portrayals of women in his era with far less justification.

(P.S: I don't event want to go near the sheer amount of "creepy old dude/villain preys on innocent/naïve/scared young woman or little girl" stories there were in Berman's era, either. But that's a whole other can of worms I can write about in a part 2.)

[jimblejamblewritings]

love letters and second sons | part 1.

Summary: The princess is finally ready to debut in society. But before she does, she decides to disguise herself and see the true faces of the ton.

Author's Note: Hello! Yes, I'm here with a wip before finishing my other stuff. The Bridgerton girlies have got me. Congratulations to you all. So before you read this, please read: I Hate Accidents by @i-hate-accidents AND Over The Garden Wall by @homeofthepeculiar AND The Ultimate Deception by @maximoff-pan. These stories are some of my favorites and really inspired this fic.

Warnings for the Series: light sexism in line with the times, light classism in line with the times, mental health stigma, shitty doctor care, smut, suicide attempt (will get it's own warning when the time comes),

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x princess!reader

Word Count: 5.4k

Author's Note: To those who have read my other works, you'll notice that the author Mercutio's stories are something special

My Dearest Ton and Wonderful United Kingdom, 

I am pleased to welcome you all to the start of another social season. Of course, people love and look for love all year round but each year the season just seems to invite love to blossom. I hope all of you find the match to your souls. Marriage is a business but can it not have love as well? A business built with love surely must be a business that tries to last. I ask our respectful citizens and subjects of the United Kingdom to make love a part of their search. 

I would also like to ask about businesses that do not involve marriage or love. How are you? In the business of health, is everyone safe from all sickness? In the business of finance, does everyone have enough to eat and clothe themselves without falling into poverty? Are businesses afloat even if only by a small margin? How are you? Truly, I want to know. If you would like to write to me, please do so. The royal mailboxes should still be in perfect condition. 

Of course, if you have something urgent then I am sorry but you must come to the palace and request an audience. My valets hold all letters for a day or a few out of safety for everyone. But rest assured, I read every letter once received. 

I would also like to say that I can feel the winds of the ton calling me to grace their presence and to stop being rude by ignoring them. Naturally, the wind is very rude to say this and then cut through my dress and chill my bones even when it is snowing. But I digress, the wind is right. The time for introduction must be soon. And a lovely time that will be. I cannot wait to meet you all. 

Yours truly, 

A Not So Young Anymore Youngest Princess Y/N Hanover (Truly, I need a proper surname and not just the name of my father’s house)

My Dearest Ton and Wonderful United Kingdom, 

Would you like to know what I have learned yesterday? I know the Americas are still a touchy subject for some but I hope you don’t mind me talking about it, just to share my studies. Philadelphia is the center of American debate. So many great men (and women that have probably gone unnamed but aided their counterparts in their quest of education) have lived and are currently still living there. 

Going to America simply for a debate sounds terribly dreadful. But what if we had one here that wasn’t relegated to just the universities. An entire city becoming a center of debate seems incredibly foolish, not to mention disruptive to its current residents, but buildings of debate do not seem like a bad idea. 

Even if some feel like they aren’t smart enough, they should participate. Ideas are nurtured by sharing them. May some debates lead to great compromise and understanding and maybe even propositions for laws. 

I, for one, debate with my father every day on which science is the most important to teach to young children and which science can wait until university should they like to pursue that path. He believes all of it. I believe that medicinal science is too much for a young mind and they only need to be taught how to mind their health until they can understand better. What do you think? I am delighted to hear your opinions. Maybe mine will be swayed. 

Yours Truly,

Youngest Princess Y/N Buckingham (I am trying out new surnames until one I like sticks)

My Dearest Ton and Wonderful United Kingdom, 

I apologize if my stance may be radical but nothing in society ever got done if the start wasn’t a little radical. I believe that young women should be properly taught about relations… let me just say it, sex. Not when they are children, no, but when they are about to debut. Consider it. You all know that as a royal, despite being a woman, I have been taught all things. Everyone is aware that I know what sex is. But if I and my sisters were taught sex so that we may be aware of malicious advances and be able to protect our virtue first rather than waiting for our virtues to be saved by someone and risk them being too late, then others should as well. Therefore, I implore all mothers and governesses to teach their young ladies about to debut what sex is. And to fathers who may be without wives, please find any woman to teach your daughters.

I shall return with more radical ideas for a better and more prosperous United Kingdom. 

Yours truly, 

Youngest Princes Y/N Kew 

The printed letters delivered to London, had everyone enthralled in the early morning. Some people that lived close enough to the central town square didn’t bother with the prints and went straight to the wooden pin board there to look at the princess’ handwriting on the original letters. Whenever the Young Princess or the author Mercutio Quick wrote, people stopped and paid attention. 

Princess Y/N was the people’s princess. The one who listened to their complaints and wasn’t cheap on her charitable acts. She was so much like her father, Farmer George. Even with his illness he still ran a good country… when he was in charge. So much better than her eldest brother, George IV. Then again, any royal sibling was better than their eldest brother, even if only by a very small percentage. Everyday the public hoped another child would challenge George the Younger. They would rally their support behind them. 

They were hoping that any day George IV’s daughter, Charlotte, would have an heir. If she was pregnant then it would be so easy for the public to support her and convince either George IV to step down or convince Parliament to present a motion to King George. They would have a ruler and an heir. Charlotte the Younger would be the easiest transition for George IV to understand.

But neither her father nor husband seemed to care about the lack of heir. But the thought of succession and coups and duels was forgotten for a moment to read the Young Princess’ letters welcoming them to the new social season with new balls, debutantes, and drama. 

In the Bridgerton house, the family ran around like chickens with their heads cut off. They were trying to get ready to present Daphne to the Queen while also trying to read the Young Princess’ letters. Benedict laughed as he slapped his copy of the letters. 

“Mother would have a fit if she had to speak with Daphne about sex.” 

“I’m surprised she would even suggest such a thing,” Colin said as he returned to reading the first letter, thinking he might actually write to the Young Princess about his familial concerns and wanting to travel desperately but being unsure about leaving them. 

Eloise finally smiled as she came downstairs with the rest of her siblings. “I for one think it’s rather refreshing. She is right. Our mamas should be teaching us more than just how to meet the Queen… Daphne! You must make haste! Do you think she heard me?” 

Colin rolled his eyes. “She most certainly did. But on the matter of the princess, what is wrong with a woman’s husband teaching her about sex?” 

“Everything is wrong with that.” 

“Hmm.” 

He looked down to reread the paper, wondering if he could understand what the princess actually meant. Even though the letters were left at home, talk of the princess never ceased. How could it? The monarchy’s youngest princess might actually be joining them. Everyone wanted to know what she would look like, not in the face of course. Even her fourth brother didn’t take off his mask until after five months of being introduced to society and he was the shortest time it took to see the royal children’s face. 

“Do you think she will be tall like her eldest sister or short? Plump?” Eloise asked as their carriages started their way towards the palace. “I’d imagine I’d be very lovely and plump if I could be stuck in a palace all day with the most wonderful food imaginable. Not that anyone should ever value a woman based on her body but Penelope has stated that her sisters are terribly upset because all the dress makers have started saying that plump is going to be in fashion once again in only a few years time and by the time they become plump it’ll be out of fashion again.” 

Daphne looked out the window. “I wonder if she’ll look like the Queen or the King. Oh, what makeup do you think she’ll wear? What mask did she have created for herself? When do you think we’ll actually see her face?” 

Violet touched the knees of all her girls. “Whatever she is like, do not be rude and gawk. The poor thing will already have the vultures’ eyes on her all night. If she even comes out tonight. Perhaps it will be at a ball this week. That would be quite a fantastic introduction. I do hope she at least meets us this season.” 

Francesca smiled. “I imagine her dance card would be quite full.” 

“She’d have bracelets of dance cards going up to her arm,” Daphne agreed.  

“But she isn’t coming into society yet. She’s just introducing herself to us,” Eloise said. 

“She’s still a princess royal. A very well-known one at that. There’s no way the men would pass on an opportunity to dance with her. They’d want to start making their intentions known now, get ahead of everyone else.” 

The boys’ carriage was speaking of a different matter entirely. The princess and Mercutio had written to the ton at the same time. With the presentation to the Queen taking up so much of the day, most people wouldn’t be able to read his work until later that evening. Colin and Benedict simply couldn’t wait. Colin sat with his brother as he drove the carriage and read the story out loud: 

“Arsehole,” Cecilia muttered. 

Ignoring the sharp stinging of her backside, she hopped off the bed to find something to put on. All she needed to accomplish was getting back to her room, clothed. She knew there must have been some spare clothes in their dressers. It was just a matter of sorting through which garments were hers and which belonged to the others. She had been sorely mistaken to ignore the three members of nobility behind her, thinking they hadn’t heard her. 

Lovell scrunched up his face, resembling a rat. “Is receiving another punishment something you really care for? Because this attitude you’ve acquired is going to earn you one.” 

“Piss off.” 

“Is that any way to talk to your dominants?” Madison asked, adjusting herself in Tommy’s arms. 

Cecilia scoffed as she walked towards the door, placing one hand on the doorknob. “Lavender.” 

The other three faces fell at the use of that forbidden word. Cecilia’s hand reached up ever so gently and wiped away tears. She wondered if the tears were for her former lovers or for finally realizing her mind was deluded to think she would be with anyone above her station such as Lovell. 

“I don’t want this anymore.” 

“Cecilia.” 

“You never believe that I don’t enjoy breaking our established rules. You only listen to Madison.” 

“Cecilia.” 

“It is clear you both like her more than you desire me. I am down.” 

“Cecilia.” 

“You shall see me around this manor, doing my job as I always have. But that is the extent of our relationship.” 

“Please, just give u—” 

“Good day, Lord Parham. Lord Newall, Lady Wilcher.” 

“Riveting,” Colin said as he finished reading. “Mr. Mercutio has done it again.” 

Benedict nodded. “Indeed he has. I was a bit worried when he announced that he wanted to dabble in the themes of erotic pleasures in his stories but this was just as enjoyable as all the others.”

“Agree… Oh, it says here that they have earned a publishing deal. The penny stories will still come out once a week, chapter by chapter but readers can also purchase a book if they would like to keep the story properly or are in a rush to read it. I for one will be buying the books.” 

“I second that.” 

“I wonder what his next story will be about. Actually, no, I wonder what our dear sisters and mothers can be talking about.” 

“The princess, no doubt.”

”Do you think any of our brothers will approach?” Eloise asked in the women’s carriage, more to herself than anything. 

That made Hyacinth’s face light up. “If one of them marries the princess does that mean we get to be princesses too?” 

“As if any of our brothers even could or want to.” Francesca pulled her face away from the window.

“If anyone is going to bring them to the marriage mart,” Daphne started as she fanned herself. “It would be the princess. Anthony would be a good match for her.” 

Violet laughed, thinking of the idea. “A viscount and a princess are a perfect match.” 

All talk of the princess stopped as they approached. The worst thing that could happen could be a footman overhearing them and mistaking their speech for malicious gossip rather than light-natured and report it to the princess or the queen or even worse, King George himself. They would forever be ostracized from society. 

From upstairs, you watched from a window where you knew no one could see you even if they looked up. How you desperately wanted to be down there. All the men were dressed up and looking like penguins. Handsome they were but still penguin-like in silhouette. And the women’s dresses. Some, while upper class, were of a lower social standing and wore older dresses that looked just as gorgeous as the empire and rather shapeless dresses of today. 

But today was not your day. You actually weren’t sure when your day would be. Your mother and father let their children choose when they would be introduced to society. Of course you all had to wait for a certain age and it had to be a date at the start of the social season but you could pick the day. And unlike your last sibling, you wanted it to be at a ball instead of the selection of the Diamonds. You didn’t even care which ball it would be. Perhaps it was selfish but you did want a day all to yourself or at least a day with you as the main focus. But that wasn’t this year. Or any year perhaps. 

You were excited to finally leave the walls of the palace if you were allowed, having proven yourself capable of not causing an incident. Unfortunately, you couldn’t say you had proven yourself without illness. You weren’t that lucky. You and all your siblings were locked inside until the royal physicians could observe and confirm that you weren’t sick with whatever madness your father had. They didn’t have to observe you. That was also why you picked a ball instead of today. You wanted to prove you didn’t need a chaperone literally holding your elbow. You wanted freedom like your siblings. Freedom to explore that you weren’t sure would get because of your illness. 

After a nearly fatal drowning in the lake — an event your siblings still get chewed out for at least once a month — you started showing symptoms like George did. For you it wasn’t about if you would be as sick like your father. It was about how bad and how quickly the illness would get. 

You didn’t get to see George as often as the others. The doctors thought you shouldn’t be around him for prolonged periods of time unless it was after an episode. They thought that too much exposure would make you more like him instead of better. They wanted to send him to Kew but you promised that you wouldn’t go to his quarters as long as he got to stay at Buckingham. 

Charlotte, silly as it may have been, had hope. They caught your sickness early. Nine was a very young age to almost go mad. Maybe you could be saved from a cruel fate unlike George. They were too late for him but not for you. Of course this only brought jealousy from your siblings who didn’t feel like they got as much affection anymore. Every time you even twitched, it became about you. They could never hate you. It wasn’t like you asked to be sick. But it was hard to be around you. Everyday visits became once a week. Still, you cherished those visits. Like the one yesterday. They expressed their sympathies and hopefulness that you would get to introduce yourself and maybe it could even be this year or maybe this month. 

You could have scoffed. After what you did just two days ago, you were unsure. The daylight came into your room before you were prepared for it and you had been convinced that Buckingham was on fire. You couldn’t be calmed down until you jumped into the water fully clothed. Immediately, you pulled yourself out of the trance but no one really cared. The royal physician had been called anyway and you had ruined all chances of attending the presentation to the Queen. 

“Your Highness!” a voice disturbed your thoughts and your eyes from looking at your siblings’ carriages leave in the morning. Your lady-in-waiting approached you with a paper, an entire pamphlet. “It’s already spread through the ton like a fire. We haven’t read it yet. We figured new literature would be a treat for you.” 

“Thank you, Pandora. Shall we read it in the kitchens this morning when we return home?” 

“Not your room?” 

“I’m so terribly sick of my room and the washroom and the balcony and the bedroom.” 

“You are getting restless.” 

“It’s only a matter of time. Maybe even tomorrow it’ll happen. And soon it will only be a couple of years at most before the mask is gone. By the way,” you said as the two started to leave. “Did you hear about the Feather girl that fainted? Is she alright?” 

“Oh yes, she’s fine.” 

“Good. Have someone send flowers to her tomorrow with an inquiry about her wellbeing after taking such a tumble. Oh and no flowers to the Diamond. I want to meet her myself one day. Now, let’s read about this… Lady Whistledown. She already sounds like an interesting woman.” 

Interesting it was indeed. The maids and kitchen staff hung onto your every word as you read the pamphlet. You weren’t exactly sure how you felt about the pamphlet yet but Pandora was right about one thing. It was literature. Lady Whistledown seemed bold enough to list subjects by name. By their entire name as if she wasn’t afraid of any repercussions. You supposed she wouldn’t be since Whistledown was obviously not her real name. 

It wasn’t the subject of what she published that bothered you. A lot of it was standard gossip that goes around during the social season but it was her personal opinion. She almost seemed to want the ladies she wrote about to have miserable ends like inquiring about Daphne Bridergton’s flame burning out quickly. The lady must know that what she published could ruin a reputation. Gossip is no longer gossip when publicly written down. It has the potential to become fact. 

You slapped the pamphlet against your hand. “Well, I suppose Mercutio Quick from York will no longer be the entertainment of the ton. Sad, and right as I earned a publishing deal too. Perhaps, I should take up a different art. Like making dresses for all my days or learning to play the harp and cello properly so it sounds better than a dying whale according to my brothers.” 

The cook shook his head. “Your stories are very entertaining. Even Lady Whistledown couldn’t stop that.” 

“Thank you for saying that. I am rather jealous that she is penning under a woman.” 

“But you have chosen a name based on your favorite characters, have you not?” 

“I have but maybe I should’ve chosen better. This Lady Whistledown might be making more change for women then I hope to accomplish.” 

At this, the staff scoffed. Pandora cleaned up your dishes from the kitchen island in front of you. 

“Your Highness, with the utmost respect, you are the one who is going to do more for women than this Whistledown. Everybody already wants someone other than your kind brother on the throne. They’re all praying your niece gives them any child so they may protest for her with the added benefit of an heir. They love her and what you write about in your letters make her seem even better. Hell, they love you and they don’t even know you. They listen to you. And with your words, Princess Charlotte the Younger will be on the throne and you will prove women are more than capable of whatever and we might have real change. Is she still on board?” 

“Yes. She hates her father as much as anyone else does. George is nice once you get to know him… sort of. But Lettie approves as long as I agree to be in her court. I said yes of course.” 

“Then it is settled. Thank God we might actually get change in our wretched lives. Now you must wash up and oversee the Bridgerton gowns before they are sent off. Shall we pick certain ones from your wardrobe?” 

“Give the Diamond the one with lace and her family’s colors. Pick whatever you want for the rest of them. Oh and patterns must be on the Feather mother’s dress. I noticed she wears the most ill-favored ornamented dresses but she seems to like them. And put in an order with the modiste, I should like to do this often if this first gesture goes well and the gift wardrobe will need more clothes than it has at present. Clothes for the lower classes as well, nothing that could get them attacked and the clothes stolen off their bodies.” 

“Yes, Your Highness.”  

“And, by the way, I already washed up.” 

“Yes, but now you’ve been sitting amongst smoke and smells.” 

You gave up your fight and nodded as you jumped down from your stool and began the walk to your room. No one was around today. They wouldn’t be for most of the social season as they had other duties, including watching your siblings. Despite your madness, you weren’t the biggest concern at all. It was your rakish brothers in brothels, your sisters constantly leaving their husbands or suitors, and all of them sneaking away. You paused for a moment before walking quicker until you reached your room. 

Why couldn’t you sneak out? Now would be the perfect opportunity. And no one was looking for you. It would be so easy to scale the vines up the garden wall and just have fun for a moment. You washed up quickly and put on a very simple dress — one more like the style of today rather than your father’s time. Grabbing a cloak and your mask, you put them down on the bed before sitting down at your writing desk to pen a letter. The slam of the door nearly made you jump out of your skin. You calmed as you realized it was just Pandora. 

“Oh, good. It is just you.” 

“I have the Bridgerton and Featherington dresses but what do you mean it is just me, Y/N?” 

You stood up, abandoning the letter now that someone was around. “I am going out to see the ton.” 

“What?” 

“It is still dark. I have a map, my cloak, and the mask. And I have a very clear destination with vehicles that will get me back in the most discreet of ways should I need to use them.” 

“Your Highness.” 

“Pandora. I am nearing my introduction to society. You will all have to let me go at some point. I know everyone cares for my wellbeing but my happiness is gone. I am seen as nothing but my illness. Before I have an episode in public like the king, let me meet the ton. Let me not be Farmer Y/N for a brief moment of my life before I am a farmer forever, before I stay in that garden just like Father.” 

Pandora’s mouth shut. She simply locked the door and unlocked the window. “You must return before your midmorning promenade and snack. Since you ate downstairs, I can convince them to overlook your absence of a breakfast request. And don’t take your mask. It’s better if they don’t know who you are at all.” 

She gasped as you hugged her. 

“Thank you, Pandora! Thank you! You are truly the bestest friend a woman could have.” 

“Just go so you can come back quickly and I can have my sanity back.” 

You closed the window, shocking Pandora as you pulled a picture frame off the wall to reveal a staircase that led outside. The door was hidden behind the trellis covered in vines and flowers. You pulled the hood over the cloak over you. The last thing you did was check for your bracelet and if your papers were inside. Until you were introduced to society, all the royal children had bracelets that couldn’t come off unless cut off. There were just in case measures with the eldest two but became necessary after so many nights sneaking out. The bracelet wasn’t going anywhere but you didn’t want to lose your birth certificate. It was your first safety measure. Even if you were kidnapped or harmed, you’d be returned to the palace for a pretty penny. You did pull your sleeves down so your bracelet wouldn’t be noticed.  

You couldn’t contain your smile at the excitement of being out. London was so different without all the noise. The brothels and pubs were starting to close down for their few hours of rest and relaxation. You stuck to streets where you could see all the action but wouldn’t be easily spotted. No one bothered you until you arrived at your destination. 

The footman stood to attention. “May I help you?” 

“Yes, hello. I bring a package from Buckingham House for the Bridgertons, courtesy of Princess Y/N.” You handed him a letter with your official stamp at the end of it. 

The footman’s eyes went wide as he handed you back the letter and ran inside. The Bridgertons looked up at the frantic knocking, pulling slips over Hyacinth and Daphne before telling the footman he could enter. The Bridgerton boys came upstairs after hearing the heavy pounding of their employee’s footsteps running up the multiple stairs. 

“Is there a problem, Marshall?” 

He panted before taking in a deep breath. “The Young Princess’ lady-in-waiting is here, bearing gifts.” 

“WHAT?!” 

The Bridgertons collectively yelled before the scramble happened. You tilted your head when you saw the windows open and a maid shake out some bedsheets. She squeaked when she looked down to see you. You laughed as she ran back inside. It couldn’t have been more than five minutes before you were escorted into the house by a very out of breath footman. The Bridgertons stood on the steps at the end of their entrance hall in chronological order with their mother starting the line at the very bottom step. Nervous smiles graced their faces when you finally reached them. You curtsied to which they curtsied or bowed back. 

You gave them a second to assess you before speaking. Even though it wasn’t true in the slightest, everyone thought the ladies-in-waiting and manservants were reflections of the royals themselves. Not in character or value but in appearance. They figured they could form some sort of picture as to what the young masked royals looked like. If you were ugly then surely the princess was too. You hoped they at least found you to be average looking in appearance. 

Anthony Bridgerton — the new head of house from what you remembered of your studies — stepped from behind his mother to greet you formally. He bowed once again, deeper, before offering up his hand. You settled yours in it to receive a chaste kiss. 

“To what do we owe this sudden pleasure, Mrs…” 

“Beckett,” you lied, just using Pandora’s last name. 

“Mrs. Beckett?” He didn’t recognize the name as one belonging to an upper class member of the ton. He wasn’t sure he recognized the name at all. 

“Apologies, I should explain. The princess doesn’t distinguish in her court, we are all there to work. All women are ladies-in-waitings, all men are valets. Regardless of station, regardless of marriage.” 

“So, I am to take it that my earlier statement was incorrect.” 

You nodded. “Simply Miss Beckett.” 

“Well that sounds like very forward thinking actually. All the same, it is our pleasure to meet anyone in her highness’ court.” 

Violet smiled as she watched the interaction. If her son was close to anyone in the princess’ court, especially someone that seemed so close to the princess as to be sent here, then he would be able to meet the princess with good graces. He’d be ahead of any man by leagues. 

“Princess Y/N has sent me on her behalf. She extends warm greetings to the Bridgertons and the Featheringtons whom I will meet after our encounter. The princess congratulates Miss Daphne Bridgerton for earning Diamond of the Season as well as congratulations to the Dowager Viscountess for raising such a fine woman and to Viscount Bridgerton for chaperoning and keeping the family together therefore allowing his sister to shine.” 

He cleared his throat and started to smile. “Please give the princess all of our thanks for the most kind of compliments.” 

“And she would like to assure Miss Bridgerton that I have not been sent on behalf of any princes. Her brothers will not be bothering you today.” 

They all chuckled when you laughed. 

You set the first box down on the table next to you and opened it. “The princess has brought new dresses for the ball. The Diamond and the rest of her family should have the opportunity to shine with the utmost and wholehearted respect and support of the Crown. Please, enjoy them.” 

The family ran to the table, picking out dresses and suits and matching them to the person’s name on the paper pinned to each garment. They kept singing praises and admiring the outfits. Violet turned back to you. 

“When are you planning on visiting the Featheringtons?” 

“In an hour or so, I must be back before the princess’ morning promenade. She has a very busy day afterwards.” 

“Will the princess be introducing herself this season?” 

“Hyacinth!” Anthony and Violet yelled at the same time. 

You laughed. “It is no trouble. I’m at liberty to answer as the princess’ head valet.” 

“Valet? I thought you said they were all men. They are usually all men.” 

“If the princess should become heir to the throne then she will receive a male valet alongside me. For now, it is just me. The Crown believes someone of the same gender should always be with her should she need to confide in someone about very personal matters.” You took a breath before testing the waters. “Such as affections of the heart.” 

It had dawned on you in that moment that you could spy on the ton. When the time came, you would still have to dance with all the bachelors of the United Kingdom but you at least you would have a better picture of them. You’d have to apologize to Pandora for the countless strokes she was about to earn from you but you couldn’t make this your only time sneaking out.  

Violet smiled, knowing she was right. “Well, would you like to stay for breakfast?” 

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose.” 

“It would be no trouble at all. We have more than enough room. Eloise, dear, if Penelope is to come over please request that she do so now.”

(part 2)

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[halitis]

do i have anything anything against jason as a character? no. i actually like him quite a bit! i think hes really interesting!

BUT DO I THINK SOME JASON FANS ARE FUCKING DUMB AS FUCK?!?? YES BITCH WHAT THE FUCK?

im gonna go through all the shit wrong with this comment thread one by one because jesus fucking CHRIST!!!!

1. "that thing" first of all. What. she is literally just a evil-aligned poc woman. she has been raised in this environment and as a result of that this is really the only life available for her and thats the tragedy of her character!

2. "why did she get with roy" THEY ARE FUCKING SOULMATES. THEIR ENTIRE THING IS THE INHERENT LOVE THEY SHARE FOR EACH OTHER WHILE ALSO VALUING THEIR MORALS ABOVE EACH OTHER. IT IS THE COMPLEXITY OF RAISING A CHILD TOGETHER AND ALSO TRYING TO FIND MIDDLE GROUND. IT IS BEGGINT THE OTHER TO CHANGE AND KNOWING THEY WONT.

3. "MY BABY JASON" YOU CANNOT SAY THAT AFTER YOU JUST INSULTED JADE.... LITTERALLY CANNOT. the biggest fucking hypocrytical statement i have ever fucking heard!!! bro!!! jason is Nawt a good person! he just flat out isnt! he has done so much horrid shit, not just to his familt, but to roy's family too. like he is not ur sweet innocent traumatised boy, he is a fucked up grown ass man who was hurt and decided to take that pain out on others. he is no fucking different from jade except he thinks hes doing rhe right thing, at least jade knows she isnt

4. "lian baby mama is jason now" ive talked abt this before, but sexism in fandom spaces when it comes to mlm ships is so fucking common it is fucking absurd. why are women only used as babymakers for ur gay characters?? why can they not be complex characters while men can???? it is fucking absurd how common it is in dc fandom and i frankly dont know why im shocked by it! women are regressed to one of three roles: evil villain who abused male love interest, baby maker, BAMF with no complexity or character at all and it is honestly so fucking tiring and just, boring to read??? like how do you not just hate it??????

5. "unemployed" honestly. i have no words. all im saying is it is No Fucking Shock that the woc is being pushed into these awful stereotypes.

now we are up to the worst part. the final comment...

6. "how are you gonna sleep with my man" ROY LEFT JADE. NOT THE OTHER WAY ROUND. roy was on an undercover mission and fell in love with jade and got her pregnant! he left because he would not be able to arrest her!!! all she fucking knew was one of the first people she truly ever loved had fucking gotten her to trust him and then left her, she had to deal with that pregnancy BY HERSELF. SHE LITTERALLY SAYS SHE SPENT THE ENTIRE PREGNANCY WAITING FOR ROY TO COME BACK TO HER, AND SHE WASNT EVEN MAD SHE STILL LOVED HIM.... she didn't even realise his identity for years!

also why is it always the woman's fucking fault if she gets pregnant? it takes two to tango! roy is as equally responsible for that pregnancy as jade is!

7. "AND THEN LEAVE YOUR KID" OH MY GOD.... [EXPLODES YOU WITH MY MIND] JADE. CANNOT. LEAVE. THE LEAGUE. BUT SHE DOES NOT WANT TO RAISE A FUCKINF CHILD THERE BECAUSE SHE KNOWS WHAT ITS LIKE!! SHES BEEN THAT KID!! jade knows fucking better then to delude herself into thinking she can raise lian safely while still stuck in her life, but lian is her number one priority always!! forever!! she pushes roy and lian away because she knows she is dangerous for them and because she thinks she doesnt deserve to have them and that love in her life!!!

8. "lian should be embarrassed to have her as her mum" i actually fucking wish nothing but hell upon you. have you not fucking read. just a single thing in ur life actually? just like actually can you read??? because i have met TODDLERS with better media literacy than you. LIAN HAS ISSUES WITH HER MOTHER. THIS WAS A BIG PART OF HER STINT AS SHOES. SHE IS DEALING WITH THE COMPLEXITIES OF LOVING HER MOTHER, THE WOMAN WHO LOVES HER AND CARES FOR HER, WHILE ALSO ACKNOWLEDGING THE FACT THAT SHE ISNT A GREAT MUM.

im sorry this is so messy and has so much shouting it actually has me fuming when people r so fucking stupid, idc if you dont like a character but dont just ignore all the bits of a characyer that make them redeemable or interesting to prop up ur male blorbos????

[spirantization]

I'm surprised at the hate that Sokka's character arc from NATLA is receiving. To me, Sokka's development and characterization was one of the strongest adaptations the series made.

In the original ATLA, Sokka's character arc revolves around him unlearning his own misogyny. He makes pointedly sexist comments throughout the early episodes like "Leave it to a girl to screw things up!", "There's no way a bunch of girls took us down!", etc.

Sokka's comments have a strong narrative purpose: they give a platform for women in the show (Katara & Suki mostly) to refute his attitude. Katara emphasizes traditional "women's work" (cleaning, cooking, sewing, etc), which forces Sokka to confront its inherent value. Suki is able to prove to him that women can fight too and he learns to respect female warriors. It's a great character arc and it's well-executed.

It's also characterization that is in direct response to the culture and feminism of the 90s and early 00s. The representation of women in the media at that time was...oof. It was not great. One-dimensional love interests whose only purpose is being saved by the male protagonist, mostly. Female protagonists were not as common, and certainly not ones who were depicted as being able to fight, and certainly not in cartoons. Female protagonists in animation were almost exclusively princesses.

ATLA was progressive in this regard. Katara was a complex female character in a time when there were not a lot of them, in media in general but especially in animation and kid's shows. (I grew up in the 90s; there were no characters like Katara in animation on screen for me.) ATLA incorporated the zeitgeist directly into the story, which is why we have Sokka learning to overcome his sexism in his interactions with Strong Female Characters.

If you go back and watch the original cartoon now, Sokka's sexism feels a bit dated. It's a very 90s, Girl Power, "girls can fight too" style of social commentary. It doesn't match with the media landscape of today. We've got 20 years of media with female superheroes behind us. If your message is "girls can fight too!" the response for the most part is going to be "yes, we know that. And?"

So imagine you're adapting the original ATLA for a live-action remake. You want to keep Sokka's character arc intact, but you want to update it for the 2020s. So what do you do? You look at the conversations that are happening today.

The 90s were about "girls can do everything boys can do", but the 20s are over that. The conversation is more about gender: gender expression, gender roles, gender dynamics. What does is mean to be a woman? What does it mean to be a man?

Sokka's character arc in NATLA is focused on this question: What does it mean to be a man? At the beginning of the series, it's his identity as a warrior that defines him. He needs to be the warrior, the protector, the leader. He's constantly trying to reaffirm this part of his identity, and it's completely tied up in his perception of his value as a man. Instead of his interactions with Suki being about "how could girls possibly be warriors", it shifts to Sokka saying "I'm ALSO a warrior" and trying to justify that to Suki (and mostly himself).

His arc over the series is about him accepting other aspects of himself and relearning how to define his masculinity. He can still have value as man without being the greatest warrior. He can still have value as a man by using his skills as an engineer. He can still have value as a man by offering compassion and kindness to others, like the little girl with the doll & Yue in her final moments. Instead of rigidly defining himself by a specific set of gender roles & expectations, he learns how to define himself through his own strengths and qualities.

I know there are a lot of people who are upset at this change to Sokka's characterization, and the most common thing I see is that it results in changes to Katara's character and her anger in response to Sokka's comments. I think there are valid criticisms to be made about how the show handled the adaptation of Katara's character, but I won't go there with this. In terms of Sokka and his characterization, it was well-done and thematically consistent with the original. It's not an exact port, and it never needed to be. It's still a feminist arc that centres on unlearning harmful misogynistic worldviews, but the focus has shifted from external (roles of women) to internal (his role as a man). And his journey is one that people would benefit from seeing represented.

[ultfreakme]

Actually you know what, thinking on it, Sokka's sexism in the original was really weird and when writing fic, I had a hard time understanding where that even came from. We've been told Gran-gran left NWT because of the sexism and stayed at SWT, Hama was a fighter, Hakoda didn't condemn Katara for fighting or learning bending, there's a trivia thing where we learn Hakoda actually wanted to find a waterbending teacher for Katara. Now sure you can say fighting doesn't mean sexism wasn't present, but Sokka's conveyance of that sexism didn't work if that's the case.

Sokka specifically underestimates girls in fighting. That's how his sexism is largely expressed. Kanna wouldn't have raised Hakoda that way and in turn Hakoda wouldn't have raised Sokka like that.

He would be overprotective of Katara and stifle her as a bender, but not because he's sexist, but because Hakoda said "Hey you're our last warrior"- and this is actually the crux of his character.

One big argument people make is that Sokka's character arc with Suki apparently won't happen. But interviews state that the new focus on Sokka-Suki would be about them finding strength and solidarity as non-benders. In the original we do see Sokka trying to figure out his place and part in the war and among Gaang, he does feel insecure about his strength and ability to protect people. I think taking the new direction would connect well with the Serpent's Pass reunion.

I understand why people are hesitant but I just saw posts saying Sokka's sexism is inherent to his character as Toph's blindness is!?!?!? WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU????? There's so much to unpack there I don't even know where to begin. Like this is getting ridiculous and in trying to say Sokka's sexism is good actually, you guys forget that the original was kinda fumbling its way through Sokka's sexism arc. It's not that fast or easy to make someone dismantle sexism, and the Kyoshi Warriors + Suki are playing into the idea that a woman is only equal to a man when she has combat prowess (I still kinda cringe at Suki saying "I'm a warrior....but I'm also a girl" she says that about her romantic interest in Sokka and kissing him, like why is being a girl or romantic interest associated with 'girl'?). They could've stretched out the arc and included Yue in helping Sokka learn that women aren't inferior but all talks of women's equality was restricted to combat.

I ADORE the Katara v Pakku fight and I think that was a far better discussion and showcase of misogyny and commentary on inequality. Because yes it was a fight, but it was, underneath all that, about Kanna and Yue.

It is the first time we see that actually, Kanna and Yue should get to choose because that is a fundamental right they should have. Healing was allocated entirely to women, but Katara learned it and it was never seen as an inferior form of bending. Everyone should get to pick if they wanna fight or they wanna heal or both. Katara'a fighter, a healer.

So I just wanna ask; Do you want Sokka's sexism to be there to comment on the unfairness of gender inequality? Do you want it there to give this one male character a character arc (because Sokka never talks to Katara- the one whom he hurt most with that attitude- or acknowledges his contribution in suppressing her advances in bending after this little lesson he learned from Suki)? Or do you want it there because the og did it so it has to be there? Because if it's the first, KATARA's arc does it a million times better and that's still in the show.

[undermine-the-instinct]

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝑳𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝑮𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝑯𝒆𝒓𝒆 (Then I Intend)

Sesshoumaru x reader Part ||

Masterlist.../ Previous part.../ Next part....

Summary: The Lord Daiyokai often shuts you up in an inn, every few days of the month, for the demons that are attracted to your bloodscent. It is one of the few graces he allows. You would think its for your safety, and truly it is. Because not only do you seem to forget that he is a demon, but also a man.

Rumors of a bloodhungry demon arise, one that prowls the edges of this ghost town, devouring its residents under the shroud of moonless nights; Of which steadily approaches. Under the dark viel of a new moon, all desires will be brought to light.

Content warnings: Misogny, A LOT of it, era apropiate sexism, (physical) assault, dismemberment (a little and not reader) non graphic.

A/N: A lot of the misogyny here is just characters reiterating what women of this era were expected to do, i.e be homemakers listen to men and whatever. However, the physical assault part will be put under a bar if you need to skip.

Length: 15.8K (This one got away from me bois gn)

Part 2 of 4

What I'm trying to say is that, in this universe which sculpted itself from a baptism of fire, I am the moon swept up by your tendernes. You got me dreaming foreign words: gravity, ellipsis, perigee, until all i can think about is becoming ancored into orbit around the saltwater green landscape of your laughter.

You had another strange dream that night, when you fell asleep.

Rin fretted, so you swung between a light and deep slumber, and the images that flashed behind your eyes were strange, to say the least. The remnants you remember play like a movie.

It's dark, the cloud of your body floating away from you like a mist in the darkness. White scales glow. Another man’s voice, frantic, angry almost. A familiar blade. Tenseiga flashes like the cold white edge of the moon, and then, silence.

And then warmth.

Were you just stressed? Was your mind just filling itself with nonsense after what happened– What almost happened last night?

You’re up before the sun, dawn just a lavender-pink bruise on the horizon.

Numachi-san must still be asleep, because no one stirs as you make a pot of tea, ginseng and ginger, like the old apothecary had intended. You’re not sure if they’re meant to go together but oh well. The earthy, warm drink is also spicy, and does wonders to help finish waking you up so early.

The slightest shuffle in the dim dark, and you whirl. Your Lord steps into the foyer, and you try to ease the sudden pounding of your heart.

He lifts a hand when you bow to greet him, barely sparing a glance and striding past. The breeze of his pace cools the sweat on your brow, and you reach out.

Figuratively of course. “My Lord, would you not stop for a cup of tea? It's…ginger and ginseng. It will help reduce stress for you.”

“I am not stressed.”

“Still, it wouldn't be, uh, very good to start the day on an empty stomach, my Lord.” He turns on his heel. And in the pastel colored dawn cringing its way across the sky, his eyes almost glow. They could be glowing, for all you know. The moment feels too trepidatious to really ask.

Your voice is soft. “...What are you doing today, My Lord?”

“...It is none of your concern.”

“I’m not concerned, I'm just curious. Will you tell me?” And you step forward. Just one tiny step but he tracks it.

“The demon, stalking this village.”

“So they’re real? Not a rumour?”

“Yes. It must have some measure of strength, I intend to test it.” A hand on his blade, not Tenseiga. That is for emergencies.

“So that's why you’re gone throughout the day. Are we... Will we see you at dinner?” He sighs harshly, suddenly, and turns where the foyer leads to the front doors.

“What is the point? Does it bring you some added comfort, my presence?”

“Yes, it does.” He meant that rhetorically, or sarcastically, you only realize. And you answered far too honestly. You backtrack.

“And Rin, too, as well. It would do her some good to know that you are still around. The last time she saw you was early morning yesterday; You leave signs of yourself even when we are on our travels, so I suspect she’s worried. And, that that's why she had a nightmare.” You wring your hands, you’re babbling too much.

Why are you nervous…? This isn’t new territory, not really.

There's always been some odd kind of tension between you and the Lord, even if you were hesitant to call it so. He’s been more lenient though hasn’t he? Besides the night before. He doesn’t really force you to walk on foot anymore when you forgo honorifics, and he’ll just ignore you when you get too obnoxious. Nothing crazy, but he’s already used to you!

You always just figured he wasn't used to company before, especially one such as yours, and there has always been some feelings of safety and attraction on your end. He is rather beautiful, though you wouldn't call yourself vain. Yesterday just breathed to life the embers that have been left smoldering for too long. 

Above all, you just want things to flow naturally.

He sighs. “You so readily coddle the child.”

“Should children not be coddled?”

“No.” He pivots, eyes eerie and pointed. “How will she survive, if you spoil her so?” 

“That is different, she is a child, and the adults have the responsibility to care for and protect her. That is different from coddling.”

“That sounds exactly like it.”

“But it's not. She is still being taught what she needs to learn. And if you're so against this ‘coddling’, why did you let me leave to take care of her last night?”

And just like that, the breath in the room is sucked away at the slightest mention. Sesshoumaru goes still, still in that way that reminds you that yeah, this isn't a human. He isn’t a bomb, steadily ticking towards explosion. No, he’s a mountain, a breath away from a landslide.

But he doesn't say anything. The way he looks at you seems to be daring you to make mention of that again, and you’re not sure that that is such a good idea anymore.

“...It's just…she's a child, and I believe all children deserve a happy childhood and… I'm just eager to please her, My Lord.”

“And not I?” You both catch that at the same time, because when your eyes meet, you see the slightest, just the slightest  shock in them. A reprimand, for himself.

Huh.

He clicks his tongue, sharp and flat. “Nevermind. You are–”

“My Lord,” You’re bold enough to cut him off, gods be damned. “I can’t even begin to imagine what I could do that would begin to please you, with our…differences. Should I start? You have to be clear with me.” You take another step closer, and when did you become so bold? His eyes flit to yours.

The silence doesn't just fall, it crashes, like a boulder landing, like a current pulling you under.

That came out… much more bold than you were intending. But you don't backtrack, you wait.

There are no distractions now.

“I ‘must be clear’, with you?” He steps forward, in that all too familiar way. It's like he’s gliding more than walking, and the proximity makes your heart pound. You hold your tea closer.

It's still a touch too warm, stinging your hands, but it doesn't seem to affect him when he takes it from you, sets it down; With his one hand he grabs your wrist, his hand large enough to dwarf yours, a thumb pressing into the lowest thrum of your veins.

“Your pulse is quick.” He murmurs, head dipped. He’s so close to you. You drink in those regal features, the way he’s so fixed on your hands.

He rubs over your wrist, slow, deep circles that slow your heart under their prudent care. You don’t say anything, you just breathe as he works, oddly…focused.

His nails, his claws, are hued red at the points, fingers long and defined and pretty. Not soft, calloused and rough, he is a samurai…but pretty.

He moves to rub his wrist against yours, and a slight shock of static makes you jump, but he’s too close for you to get that far. Not that you want to go far. You’re reminded of when your mother would rub lotion on your hands, or scented oil into your wrists. He does it once, twice, on both wrists, sliding his skin across your wrist, the inside of your forearms, before he moves to the delicate skin behind your ear.

You laugh and jolt away. “That tickles.”

“Just stay still.”

“I’m trying.” Not hard enough, you jitter away from his touch with breathy laughter, and with a breath of a mutter he cups the back of your head, and replaces the slow drag of his wrist with his teeth.

That stills you. It's…barely a bite, what he’s doing. But his teeth are there and you’ve never felt anything so sharp so close to your neck before. You quiet, under the conscious threat of being near something so sharp. But he wouldn’t do anything.

You're 80% sure.

He murmurs against your skin. “Are you going to keep still, now?”

“Uh, yeah?” you breathe. “Your fangs are at my throat, duh.” He doesn't rise to the bait, he just drags his teeth over the soft column of your throat, his claws tangled in your hair.

“What... are you even doing?” 

He clicks his tongue, and you can almost feel the wet heat of it. “Dense as always.”

“I am not ahh-” a staggered breath, just pushing a moan of your lips when he bites down, just above your collarbone. It's gentle, not even breaking skin, and that's what surprises you.

You’re clinging onto him, you realize, strands caught between your fingers. You lean back, but there's nowhere to go between where you were and him.

He just sighs against your skin, and leans into you more, so your back is arched and you’re melded against him, like a pressed flower.  There's a rumble in his throat you can feel when you squeak. 

Well, two can play at that game.

You reach, press into him with your body and return the favor; your mouth tracts the pointed shell of his ear. When you reach the pointed end you bite down, and he jolts. He actually jolts. 

Not away, mind you. But his teeth clamp down before he moves, leaving an imprint around that plum colored bruise.

You look at each other, caught in this twilight moment. And he draws away. You want to cling, but you have your pride, and reluctantly you let him out of your hold, white strands of silk slipping through your fingers.  His face is smooth but you sense a contentment? There, the slightest sense of smug satisfaction. 

You press your fingers to the spot his teeth were in, just seconds ago, when he leaves. There, just above your collarbone. If you had a mirror you could see it, but you’re certain.  A lavender pick bruise, delightfully sore. 

You press down, hard.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Breakfast is a normal affair, or abnormal, as you were the first person up which happened almost never. Breakfast was served anyways, and it didn't take much cajoling to get Numachi-san to sit down with you again, even if she only accepted a cup of tea, which she poured herself, after she served all of you. Must be a tendency of hers.

“Hey, Numachi-san, have you lived here in this town your whole life?”

“Hm? Oh, no, I moved here when I was quite young, no older than you, actually,” she tells you as she sits. You pout a bit.

“Oh, I was going to ask you some things about the Demon haunting this place. Like whether it's been here longer than you have or something.” She looks at you oddly, with her dark bangs. Her eyes and her hair.

“They've been here a few years before I came here, and the attacks weren’t as bad. They got worse over the years. This used to be a popular spot for a resting Daimyo on their travels, as it was a good spot to rest travel wise. One was eaten though, and his entourage, that's what made people stop coming here. If even a Daimyo isn't safe, no one is. People are too poor and sentimental to move. And some others were eaten, trying. Most don't bother anymore.”

“And…yet you chose to stay? Your sons were able to leave, why didn’t you go with them after you're husband passed, since I'm sure you don't get many customers nowadays…”

“Oh, because when I do get customers, they’re amazing ones, like you honored guests! There's the occasional weary traveler–but I get monks, samurai, swordsmen, hunters looking to take down a fabled demon…those folk hardly return though.

“I…you could say, inherited this place when I came to this town, after I left my village. It was when the Daimyo had been eaten, along with the samurai who protected him and the old inn keepers. I worried it would be too hard a job for me to fix, but my sons helped me. It’s only as furbished as it is now because they helped me with the more tedious things.” She delicately raises her cup to drink.

“How helpful of them. What are your sons like, Numachi-san? They’re visiting pretty soon, right? You must miss them a lot. ” She looks up from the tea in her hands, tilts her head.

“Oh, well, yes of course…I had twin sons, one would have been ideal, but having two...You might not know but twins are an ill omen. When I gave birth…It was either leave one or be banished. So I was driven from my home, and found my way here. No one cares about ill omens in a town that's already cursed,” she shrugs. “Now I’m here.”

“You said your husband stayed with you?” Her smile turns sour.

“Well, no, he…visited. He too believed in the ill omen of twins…and he was a very reclusive person, even at his most affectionate. So the visits dwindled until…he eventually passed away.”

“I'm…so sorry for your loss?” Even though he sounds like an asshole?

“Don’t be, it's a relief in some ways...” The bitterness surprises the both of you, she pauses, and then covers her mouth in horror.

“I-I mean…It's just–”

“You...don't have to explain anything to me, Numachi-san.”

“I don't want you to think I’m ungrateful,” she presses, daring to inch closer to you. Her hands tremble.

“You’re so kind, honored guest, and I’d hate to spoil your image of me. I am grateful for both my sons and my husband when he was with me. I'm grateful for this Inn, and the people in this town who are kind enough to not have chased me out like my birth family. Truly, I am.”

“You don't have to be grateful for the bare minimum.” 

“Hm?” She looks so confused, and the expression she wears nettles at you. You’re not irritated with her, just her attitude. She’s so….timid. Mellow.

“Of course you can be grateful for the blessings, all the good in your life. But it's okay to…not be okay with just the barebones. You don’t have to be thankful for the scraps.” You can be angry too, you know, you want to tell her.

You think of a girl, with twin boys, being driven from a village by her own family. Traveling alone for goodness knows how long, until she reached a cursed village and a dilapidated inn she would painstakingly restore. A husband who only visited ‘sometimes’. 

You would be livid. 

Maybe that’s why you’re always so hesitant when it comes down to the new, the change. A chance of failure is never completely zero. 

Maybe that’s why you’re always so hesitant to take a step forward.

But Numachi-san, unfreezes, and laughs, waving away your words like more than a too cool breeze on an autumn day.

“You’re such a strong-spirited person, honored guest. I admire your strength; and I am a bit envious too.” She rises, and takes the teapot with her.

“I think I’ll go brew a new pot, this one is no good cold. Excuse me.”  Even though her hands on the pot flush pink from the heat, you watch her leave.

Jaken shakes his head at the woman, bug eyes closed.

“That woman is far too meek and soft-spined for a town like this–no husband, no sons…Though, her attitude is the proper one a woman should have, nothing like your brashness and lack of manners and respect.”

“Jaken, can you kindly shut the fuck up?” 

“See! That's exactly what I mean!” 

“Rin.” Rin looks up  from the table she’s been staring intently at. People think just because she’s mute, she is also deaf. She hears much of the world around her, more than people realize. Her eyes are young and wide as you speak to her.

“...You don't have to rely on a man to define yourself. You can do what you want to do, anything at all, alright?” She nods but her eyes drift back to the table. You tap it with your knuckle to get back her attention.

“I'm serious. You have me. You have Sesshoumaru. A-un and Jaken too, I guess. If you need something….”

Jaken cuts in. “Go to the Lord, he’s much more capable.”

“For like...intimidation and murder and money. I got everything else.”

“Like?!” You shrug.

“Well, she’s going to grow into an adult one day..."

‘Like you’re a proper example.”

“I am!”

“Of course you are-’ And Rin breaks out into laughter, snickering behind her hands, eyes crinkled in delight.

You feel your heart warm, swelling three sizes and all, before you reach over the table to tickle the girl.

“Hey! What are you laughing at?!”

You might not be a parent, but Rin is the closest thing you have to a child, and you’re going to do right by her. Coddling and all.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

In your musings it takes more than a full hour to traipse your way to the rice paddies from the inn. You've gotten faster at walking, during your travels with your little group, but it was still away, at the other end of town, at the bottom of a small mountain which a stream ran down from, and fed into the rice paddies. Behind that mountain, miles and miles past, you could just see the peaks of a mountain range. That was where Sesshoumaru wanted to go after all this. It was pretty far, on foot it would take at least…a week, or two? With A-Un, and the Lord, only two or three days.

When you went up to the little house on the hill overlooking the paddies no one answered, and you looked about for any signs of the oldman. 

Rice paddies spread out below you, and you look down the hill to check for any signs of life. Luckily, you did, a group of people working close by in the fields below. You went to meet them.

And promptly fell down the hill.

And oh no, you couldn't just trip and roll down like a normal person, or even bonk your head on a rock and pass out, which would be merciful. Instead, you do this stupid half trip, half wobble and catch-yourself-but-still-very-much-falling dance down the hill like a demented horse, before gravity finally lets you go; You collapse like a maiden struck by a curse.

‘Gods, are you there? Why have you forsaken your most devoted child?’

With an audience to boot. Well, at least you didn't fall into the water of the paddies, you landed barely a foot away from where the grassy hill turned into mud, and sloped down. A guy, thigh deep in the waters gapes at you. Three identical versions of him you see in your swimming vision as he steps forward and nudges you with a wet hand. You give him a thumbs up to show you’re alive. You think he calls back to the others you saw with him.

Some of the words swim in and out your hearing, your head too dizzy to focus on them, so you can only squeal as your world tilts, and you're suddenly held in the arms of the first man (or three) you saw, the world flashing in colors of blue and green and brown.

You try to protest as he starts carrying you up the hill but he doesn't listen to you.

“Excuse me?! I said put me dow–” 

“I can hear you.” His tanned hands are wet and warm from the sun and work, black hair pulled into a ponytail. He looks around your age, if only a few years older.

“So then put me down.”

 “No, that was a long, erm, fall.”

“It was nothing, please put me down.”

“Nope! What if you rattled your head and your brain comes spilling out your ears if you move too fast?” A beat of awkward silence, and he tries to laugh off that crazy ass sentence like it was a joke. 

You have to get out, you're in the hands of a madman.

“Uh… that, wasn't a good thing to say... sorry? Really though, if you’re hurt we should get you checked out–the Doctor is actually here for our father today, so she can just look you over real quick and then you can be on your way.” Finally at the top of the hill, he sets you down on your feet gingerly.

“Actually, what are you here for? Aren't you those fancy guests at Numachi-san’s honjin?”

“Uh, I guess. We’ll only be there for a few days, since we’re there to...recover.” Yeah, you’re not telling him the real reason. But he nods, looking over you, assessing.

“Traveling on the road, even with such a powerful Lord, must be exhausting for you two. Of course you should rest while you can!”

“Us two?”

“You and the child, of course.”

“Oh yeah, of course…”

The tense silence doesn't seem to bother him, in fact, he just waits…and waits. When no one tries to break it, he perks. “Yes!” He shouts and you jump. “How about I help you with what you need? Did your Lord send you to buy an order…?”

Couldn’t have asked that quicker? “No. I’m just running some errands for Numachi-san. Though that's not a bad idea, some rice would be good for our travels…”

“Our rice is grown from the melted caps of the mountain streams, you won't find anything better. Fit for your mighty Lord's tastes, I should say.” And he leans in, eyes gleaming. “Hey, please indulge me, for curiosity's sake… he wears a kimono with two sleeves but he’s missing an arm…did he lose it fighting some horrible demon?!”

He is a horrible demon. Technically. “I…suppose so? He left me in a village so I didn’t see the battle.”

“What about those markings on his face?”

“He was born with them, I believe?”

“And his chinese robe, very strange fashion, but he’s a demon right? Where did he get it, his sword, his armor?”

“The sword came from his father…? And I don’t know about the robe and armor, I’m pretty sure that's a result of his Yoki energy.” Did he make it with yoki or does he acquire it and then have to put it in his inventory, of sorts?

“I don't really know what I can divulge to you…?”

“Oh...” And, damn, the sad way he deflates endears you, like a kicked puppy, so you offer something else.

“I’ve seen other battles though, though they can hardly be called that with the strength of my Lord, if that would suffice.” 

“Yes! I am Takashi, by the way, forget the honorifics.” He bows, and when he rises he winks, ushering you inside.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

“...So he swiped out with his poison claws, and the demon fell to ribbons. It was so quick, so precise, that no blood stained his hand. It careened in an arc in the air, the slice so clean it took a minute for the demon to start bleeding out. We just continued on our way then.”

“Amazing…” He breathes, awestruck. The tale is practically playing behind his eyes and you laugh.

“It must be amazing to be able to serve a Lord like that…”

“Honestly? It is.” Despite your troubles and woes, there are sights that have taken your breath away and moments that are seared into your memory. Even in your world, you doubt you would have ever seen as much, ever.

Takashi-kun, as he cheekily insisted you call him, tilts his head to the side in question.

“You serve him?”

“Yes, it's tedious, but I’m glad for the work, it keeps me busy.” Never let him hear you say that, he would hold it above your head forever.

“...No, I meant being his disciple, not his servant.”

“Yeah, that's what I meant.”

“You are his disciple?” 

“Yes…? The Lord is much too…dignified and proud, to name any disciples of his own. Still the imp wields the two headed staff, and Rin carries a tanto.”

“And you?”

“I can take care of myself, I have to,” you shrug. “I'm a woman, traveling. I’ve asked the Lord to teach us how to wield the naginata, but every weapon’s master we’ve seen never meets his specifications, so he won't teach us until we get the right weapon. ” you pout.

“Seriously, shouldn’t he put more priority on teaching us, if we’re to be traveling on the road with him?”

But Takashi fiddles with his hands, running fingers over some age-old scar there, looking down at it with a pensive expression. “Well why should he? Why would he? You’re a woman.”

“...Excuse me?” He gestures.

“I mean, even in this kinda’ place, we’ve heard of the Lord of the Western Lands. Such a strong and disciplined leader, it would insult him if you continued to pester him about teaching you how to wield an actual weapon, as if he weren’t capable of protecting you and the child.

“It's already awfully gracious of him that he allows the child the tanto, or that he allows two women to accompany him; I assume he provides you shelter and food and the like. Shouldn’t you be more grateful?”

“Huh?” There's this odd look on Takashi-kun's face, just beneath the surface, and the mischievousness that was present there is gone.

“No. No, I'm appropriately grateful. And there's only one woman; the girl is still a child.”

“Yeah, I guess you're more his type.”

You slam your fist down on the table. “Repeat that.”

You forget though, the men in this era haven't ever been taught to heed a woman. So he just looks at you oddly and says,  “I assumed that you served him as steward or maid, though I guess I was wrong.” He points towards the table, the pot of tea that has been sitting there.

“The pot has been sitting for a few moments now, and you have not served. I figured you were enraptured by the grand stories of your Lord, which is understandable. You are a guest here, yes, but as eldest son here it would still be rude for me to serve. Your Lord must be an odd one.” He sighs.

“Were you a sacrifice, from your village? Is the child yours? Oh, is she both of yours? Forgive me for my earlier comment then…Maybe that's what the Tanto is for–I heard Samurai give the Tanto and Naginata to their wives and daughters to defend themselves and the home from enemies. That must be the reason, right?”

“...”

“But again, he is a demon. Who is he to follow human conventions? Perhaps you aren’t a ‘wife’, exactly–” You stand so quickly the table is jostled, and he reaches out a hand to steady it, looking up at you unperturbed and confused at your outburst.

“...Do you not think before you speak?”

“Excuse you?” He frowns. “I’m making basic observations. You are really pretty, and not too old, so you must have been with him for some time, if the child yours. Are you his concubine? Your teeth aren’t black, obviously you’re not a wife,” he sighs.

You want to smash the chipped cup into his face. You want to pour the hot tea into his lap and burn him. He looks so satisfied with himself for this genius conclusion, not even considering the truth of the matter. You are a companion–not concubine.

But you breathe, you reign in your temper. Calm down, he doesn't know any better.

“I…am not a concubine. Nor a wife. No, I do not serve him in those…ways.  I am simply a traveling companion. Nothing more.”

“But you are a woman. What else do you offer?”

Just before you throw the tea pot into his face, an old frail frame strides into the room with purpose–and when you look up you stare right into the hard eyes of the apothecary, and the wrinkled face of the man who walks in with her.

“Oh, Father! Doctor!” Takashi-san rises to feet like he’s going to embrace one of them, but she just looks at him and he backs down. Her gaze turns to you.

“Ah yes, you, young lass. Put down that pot before you spill it. What are you doing this far from your hotsprings and futons and mochi?” You’re ready to snap at her but the old man speaks before you do.

“Oh, you’re that girl who came in with that Demon Lord, right? How about you sit back down and tell us what you came all the way here for.” His wrinkled face is spotted in moles and cherry, and you can’t help listening to the old man.

“Father–”

“Shh!” The old man hushes him, and Takashi-san rolls his eyes, playfully, but you see the exasperation in them. You all sit, and the apothecary is the one who pours. Takashi looks at you.

“I’m just running an errand for Numachi-san, I don’t feel right just sitting still and relaxing when she has so much to do.”

The old man gives a precious wrinkled smile. “Oh, what a kind girl you are. And what a generous Lord to allow his servant to help others.”

“I don’t think he did allow it, Father,” Takashi cuts in. “You weren’t there but I saw him; A Lord of that caliber wouldn't allow his… servants, to run off to do manual labor.”

“And what were you doing so early in the morning, before even dawn, that you saw them go inside the honjin, hm?”

“I…I wasn't! I was here, sleeping! I saw him after, when I was in town delivering!”

“Sure you were.” Old man Taiga, as you know he is, looks up at you, and so fast you almost miss it, winks. “Must have been taking mighty long if you had time to ogle at some demon Lord.”

“He's the Lord of the Western Lands Father!”

“Yeah, yeah, how about you go now and gather up that rice now for the good lady, and pack her an order too, for that Lord you so admire.” You like this old man. Takashi-san doesnt even look at you, he just grumbles under his breath as he shuffles from the table to go to fulfill his father’s orders.

The apothecary grins. Her teeth are white and straight as a US military cemetery. “One good thing about being a haunted town–at least we don't have to pay any taxes! We can eat all the rice and mochi we want and not have to worry about any Daimyo coming to raid the town.”

“A bad thing is that we don't have that many workers for the fields, so we often work more than we eat.” Taiga sighs, patting his back. He looks at you.

“The last Daimyo came to collect taxes since we had not paid for some time, and stayed at Numachi-chan’s inn– Well, it wasn't hers at the time. But he came with some few samurai, which were more than enough for a town like this. But not enough for the demon.”

The apothecary huffs over her tea cup. “I bet he ate well that day. And hasn't eaten that well since.”

“‘He’?”

She shrugs. “Female demons aren't so voracious. Or maybe they are–maybe she’s got a brood she needs fed.”

“What kind of demoness still feeds her kids for thirty, forty years? They’re grown and out now, if they exist.”

“If they exist. I'm betting it's a male demon though.”

“And how would you know?”

She slaps the table. “I’ll find out when I get eaten of course!”

“With how bitter you’ve become over the years? Ha!”

“And with how sickly and tough you are? You got a few good years before your time Taiga. And it won't be by demons!” They laugh, while you look at them over the rim of your cup. They seem to be pretty old friends, if the way they talk is any indication.

“Ah, I still wanna see my son and daughters get married though,” Taiga huffs. “Four daughters and one son…I wouldn’t mind if Takashi was sneaking about to meet a Lady,  but instead he’s training, like the next Samurai that comes in will notice his potential and take him on,” Taiga shakes his head.

“He thinks he’s gonna be the one to slay the demon of this place. He has more luck minding his business and keeping his head low. I’m still here after all, my children and all.” You notice no mention of a wife though, and tamp down your curiosity.

“Does…anyone know anything certain about the demon? Like, what type, or how old?” The apothecary and Taiga look at you, look at each other.

“Only the dead,” she supplies unhappily. “Though, we have seen the marks they left behind… the ones who fight back. And the wreckage the demon leaves behind, like the wrecked buildings in town”

“The demon seems cocky, to openly go into town and just into random buildings to eat people.” Like knock knock, delivery. Oh! You're the meal.

“Arrogance, yes, but no ones seen nor caught em’ yet. Been here for years and will probably move on when we’re all gone or eaten. A mighty demon to be sure, most definitely.” 

“But stronger than her Lord?” Taiga points his cup towards you.

“Lord of the Western Lands…I grew up hearing the myths of this Lord, never thought I’d ever be so close to him… You must be honored to be able to serve such a Lord.”

“Uh…I guess?” What was he, some God? “He’s actually pretty frustrating and pretentious but to each their own.”

That didn't give you the reaction you thought it would. Instead of chuckling, they gape at you, moon eyed.

“...I don’t think it would be wise to talk about such a Lord in that way… Imagine if he heard you, girl!”

“I’d say it to his face.” Again, that doesn't give you such a good reaction. They both just stare at you, though the apothecary’s eyes narrow.

“Hm, well…he must be lenient with his servants…very lenient! Maybe he just is unaffected by a human’s words!”

“No, he’d just tie me to the back of A-un, our demon steed, if you will, and make me walk a few miles. Or cut my food rations. But honestly, he needs to be taken down a few pegs. Everyone is walking on eggshells around him, singing his praises, he needs a dose of reality.” You grin sneakily. “Just a small dose though, so he doesn't realize I’m just blowing hot air and he really is all that.” The old man looks like he could choke, poor him, and the Apothecary shoots to her old wrinkled feet.

“Come on now,” the apothecary grabs your wrist, and with more force than you expected, drags you up and out. You’re only able to pull your wrist back when you’re leaving the front doors of the house, leaving old man Taiga behind.

“Hey! What are you doing?!”

“No, what are you doing?” She throws your hand back. “You’re dumber than I thought if you think you can get away with talking like that in front of that kinda folk.”

“What do you mean-”

“The only reason they’re not ganging up on ya is because they think if they butter up the Demon Lord’s concubine, then maybe he’ll slay the demon for them. Do you even know how rare it is for travelers to actually arrive here, intact, this close to a full moon? It's either intentional or luck, and I'm betting on the former, in your Lord’s case.”

You scoff, but you can't really argue with her words. You’ve seen this sort of thing play out before, so it's not implausible. 

You’ve seen plenty of desolate towns, both with and without your Lord, you’ve been driven out of a few of them. But with your lord, they always beg aid, offering up their most valuable goods, resources, wares…people. Your Lord has always rejected them all. It's very rare if he decides to take them up on their pleas.

Now that you think about it…wasnt it always whenever you were running low on something?

There was one time a rather prosperous village asked for aid in a demon that kept eating its women. Sessoumaru refused, and you nearly left, if not for one merchant, who offered some sweets amongst the things he could trade. You and Rin had perked, Jaken had scoffed, and your Lord...accepted. You and Rin were feasting on mochi for days.

The Lord had killed the demon quickly—but still called it a waste of time.

“I’m not his concubine…” She clicks her tongue at you.

“Yeah, it figures. I assume he wouldn’t let ya wander around on your own if you were.”

“He hardly lets me do that now,” you gripe. “He just always avoids me during these times so I got some leeway now.”

“You mean you can't let yourself get caught out here like this.”

“...It’s not that serious, I just don’t want to deal with him, that's all.” She coughs out a laugh, and slides a hand down her face.

“Oh girl…you might not be a concubine, but you must be something to have the courage to talk about him like that. Out or to his face.”

“Yeah, I’m a traveling companion.”

“Dense as a rock too.” Why do people keep saying that about you?! It's not true.

She waves a hand. “I know haughty types like that, and they’re not the type to take your kinda attitude girly.”

“How would you know? You know nothing about me.”

“Of course I know you, I used to be you.” She sighs and leans back against the walls of the house. You’re staggered into silence, and she takes the opportunity to talk again.

“Same attitude, same talk, same naivety. That's why you ought to take advantage of the things you have, and not leave them to chance. You got something going with that Lord of yours. Do something before he changes his mind–if not for yourself than that girl you got.”

“Rin? But he…” You know he cares. He brought her back to life for goodness’ sake. “He wouldn't do anything.”

“But he could. And if he could then there's always a chance he will.”

But you remember. The look in his eyes as you and Rin feasted on mochi. The almost teasing way he nettles at Jaken, who is none the wiser. The golden shade of his eyes in the lantern’s shine, in moonlight, the dim gleam of dawn. They way he murmured and breathed against your skin, like he wanted to–

You stop that thought right in its tracks.

Your fingers rush up to press against the bruise. The sore throb is a reassurance.

“But he wouldn't.” 

She pauses, and she coughs a little in her incredulity. “Oh, girl,” and her face twists in sympathy. “You’re in love with him.”

“...It's not that serious.” Was it?

“Well, so much for your bluffing, you’re already too far gone,” she scoffs, like you didn't say anything. 

She clicks her tongue, something lighter, and almost…fond? She walks closer, and starts fixing your clothing, like a grandmother would, adjusting things this way and that.

“Did you try the tea?”

“Huh? Yeah, I had some this morning.”

“Take some when you go back, It’ll be good for you.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“Hm. Then take this word of advice too girly,” and she wipes her hands down her front. “Besides talking about your Lord of course. Don't get too chummy with that innkeeper. You don't like being called a concubine, fine, whatever, you can afford that. But some people aren’t given that choice. She’s one of them.”

“What? She’s a widow. Her husband died.”

“By her own design. Why do you think her sons left her? Normally I wouldn't fault her–do you know how many potions I sold to all sorts of women? But her? I can’t forgive her. I won’t. ” With those ominous words and her hawk gaze, she walks away.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Takashi-san, whose Father insisted on ‘assisting’ you, who had insisted on carrying the rice bag because’ it’s much too heavy for you, you’d probably make it to the inn by sunset!’, nevermind that it was barely noon now, is annoying you. Damn chauvinist.

You didn't let slip the change in attitude he had, since you mentioned the Lord and the tanto thing. Before was the politeness and cordial attitude of a person talking to the servant of a nobleman or something. And yeah, you were used to that. That attitude, and even the cloying, patronizing way that this boy spoke to you was better than the outright venom that people spat at you with, when you dared to call yourself his travel partner…

It was still no less frustrating.

“Shouldn't we head to the inn as soon as we can?” he called to you, as you left him near the bottom of the stream.

“I wouldn’t want to upset your Lord because you’re not where you’re supposed to be.” A vein could pop from how tightly wound you are.

“I have chores to do, and then you can ‘escort’ me back. You followed me, so we’re going by my schedule.”

“Did your Lord grant you permission for you to be on your own?”

You pause, and turn to him slowly to show your displeasure. “...He doesn’t care. What does it matter?”

“But still…I should at least accompany you on your way.”

“You really shouldn’t. I'll be fine on my own. I've lived nearly the same amount of days on earth as you have, and I’ve definitely traveled farther. I'm good.”

“You’re very audacious for a woman.” And he wants a rock to his head, doesn’t he. “I'm offering my help. Even if you were being bashful, trying to deny me, you could be more pleasing.”

“...You have a shallow ego don’t you?”

“What?”

“....Takashi-kun, I appreciate how kind you are, but I would be remiss if you were to aid me any further. I want to please my Lord by bringing something pleasing for dinner, but if you help me it would just ruin all my efforts. Please wait here for me, please?” You make your voice sickly sweet, and bat your eyes. Though his brow twists, he doesn't offer a rebuttal, struck dumb by whiplash.

…Is it really that easy? “That…does make sense. He’s already letting you stay at a honjin, you should do something to thank your Lord.”

“Yes of course. Now, I have to hurry so I’ll be quick, alright? I’ll be quicker on my own anyways, and then the Lord will praise you for your efficiency. I’ll call you if I need you Takashi-san!” And you scamper away with your basket and a wave, letting the wide smile you put on drain away as you roll your eyes. You were sooo fake, did he really not notice?

Twenty, thirty, forty or so paces upstream, just underneath a few big rocks, nestled in the low current, the traps lay. Just where Numachi-san told you. The current was lazy, about waist high as you hopped along the rocks dotting the banks. You set your basket on a tall rock. There, you strip to your innermost layers, and stride in to catch your fish.

You have to be quick, and careful, odd high waves often rolled over, Numachi-san warned you. There were also other animals that came here to hunt, so you had to scurry.

There are only three or four bright red snapper fish as you checked, and pretty young by the looks of it, barely over a foot long, and weakly trying to swim free; despite your sympathy you know it was your job to bring them back.  Alas, why must so many of the tasty foods come from things alive?

And then you realize something. Beyond the bumbling stream, you can't hear anything.

And no, the water isn't loud enough that it blocks everything else out, no. It's just silent. No birds, no shuffling, no wildlife. Silent.

Somethings here.

Your hair stands on end as you reach for your tanto. There's nothing on the banks, and no movement in the undergrowth but there– 

For a second, a blur races out of your peripheral vision. Cold dread followed by a flush of heat under your skin. You bring up your knife and whip your head to chase the sight, but it runs quickly and you only see a dark smear slither into the trees.  

A few moments pass in tense silence, before you hear the birds again. You untense, and lower your knife. The blur was pretty large, probably…a bear cub, wandering from its mother.

But that silence… Still, you need to hurry, lest you want to wrestle with some bears over fish. There's a specific way to untie the part of the net that would free the fish-of course, you grab onto the tail of one so it can’t slip away, already flipping around in your hold. But you can't pick at it.. You’ll have to go under to do this.

 So you hold your breath, and plunge.

The water is just hitting the edge of too cold as you go under; It's rocky and craggly under, and quickly you untie the net and grab your fish, one by one; The first two you grab by the tails and stride over, hurriedly tossing them into your basket and closing the lid after. The other two are harder. With extra room to move they fight, and you barely get the third in before you notice the water receding.

You’ve read enough to know when an incoming current is gathering. Quickly, you duck back down to untie your last fish, fumbling your fingers over the knot. You get it loose, but the fish, smarter than its brethren and slippery, darts around your hand and tries swimming off.

‘Oh no you dont–’ you turn under water to chase it, just grabbing the ends of its tail and holding on, but your foot gets caught in a crevice between rocks.

You get your face to break water right as the current comes in, knocking you back, hard. You don't land on the rocky bedfloor, but you’re thrown off balance, your foot stuck. You’re left floundering, you don't know how you don’t let go of the damn fish, but you don’t.

You try to reach up again, lungs burning, only to snort water as another wave smacks you dead in the face, pulling you back under. You’re losing air, and fast. You reach a hand, trying to break the surface, and kudos to your incredible luck, someone grabs it.

You are yanked out of the water, ankle scraping painfully against the rocks, choking on air on your way up.

“What are you doing?”

“Takashi-san?!” He pulls you up, your arm socket protesting the movement; He gathers you into his arms and drags you onto the banks.

“You followed me?!” 

“What was I supposed to do, leave you on your own?”

“Yes, that's exactly what you were supposed to do.” You wrestle in his arms, they way he just lugs you over to the banks like…like a bag of rice. Of which he had, now you cannot see. You look around and reach for your basket that teeters dangerously on the rocks.

“You thought you could sweet talk me into acting like some…some–!!”

“Some what, Takashi-kun.” You wipe the droplets from your brow. Takashi-san sees this, the inner robes you wear. You’re still in his arms. He goes red. 

“I knew you were just faking that demureness. How shameless.”

“Oh? And what gave it away?”

He drops you like hot coal.” You called me Takashi-san. Normally I wouldn't question this, it's only proper, but you’ve been calling me Takashi-kun. You slipped up.”

“Oh darn,” you roll your eyes. “And here I was thinking I could ditch you.”

 “I couldn’t just leave you be, you know there's a demon lurking around here–”

“Like you can fight off a demon?” You rub the hip you landed on, and grab your basket. Seems he tossed rice to the side, presumably when he went to rescue you.

“I’m more capable than you are?” 

“I'm not in danger of drowning now, am I?”

“Listen woman,” he hisses, his mirth replaced with irritation. He reaches out to grab your arm but you dodge out his way. “You’re a stranger here, you don’t know these parts. No one comes up here to fish, it's too far away and if you screamed, I wouldn't have heard you over the water.”

If you scream now, no one will hear you.

“Then fine, let me just grab my things and we can head back, alright?” 

But his eyes narrow, and he shakes his head.

“No. We’re going back to my father’s house, it's closer. Then you’re going to wait for your Lord, or that Imp to escort you back.”

“I am not a child, nor do I need a chaperone–”

“You were taking too long!” He keeps advancing and you keep retreating. “I was waiting, and the woods went silent. That’s never a good thing. I had thought a demon had gotten to you, and then what would I say to your Lord!”

You roll your eyes. “Glad to see you’re so worried for my well being.”

“Good! You’re welcome!”

A harsh sigh drags its way past your teeth. “I did hear that odd silence, that’s why I was rushing. But maybe if I didn't feel so rushed, I would have waited until the high wave rolled over.”

“But you didn't, instead you almost drowned. Should you even be out? I mean, hunting surely isn't your strong point.”

“And keeping your mouth shut sure isn’t yours.”

“Excuse me?” You know that drop of voice. You could recognize it in this century or the next. So before he could get on with his next tirade, you snatch your outer layers, hurrying them on and making your way back down with your basket.

“Where are you going?!” you hear him fumble with the rice, but he decided to carry it, so that’s his fault.

“Back to the inn, where else? Are you following me or not.”

“You need to do as you’re told! You're not going to–”

“Listen Takashi, you're a rather pretentious prick, so if you have nothing of value to say, then be quiet.”

“You are supposed to–” you whirl around and he stops in his tracks, brow furrowed and one hair away from a full blown scowl.

“I didn't ask you to be my escort, protector, or chaperone. You were the one who decided to take the roles on yourself, so don’t get upset that I'm not playing into your little fantasy of being some noble village boy helping the poor maiden. Who are you to tell me what I'm supposed to do? You, some village boy?” You would poke his chest to emphasize the words, but you’re not getting as close as needed for that.

“And for the record. The Lord isn't going to acknowledge you just because you ‘escorted’ me. I’m not his pet.”

“But you are a woman,” he grits. “And you are his. There are basic rules you must follow for order–”

“Rules are meant to be broken.”

“You shouldn't even be wandering out on your own. Look what happened when you did, you nearly drowned!”

“I didn't nearly drown because I'm a woman idiot, my foot was stuck in a crevice.” Your ankle which, now that you’re on land, smarts. You can feel the blood dripping, not yet clotted over.

“Thank you for your aid in getting me out of that, honestly–Your attitude could use some work though.”

“My attitude?” And you turn away from him. That is your mistake.

A hand yanks you back by the back of your collar and you choke, dropping your basket. Your instincts kick in when he tries to wrap his arms around you. You drop, and while he fumbles with your dead weight you grab his ankle and topple him over. 

He must fight with his sisters a lot or something though, because it's hard keeping him down, even as you claw red lines into his face and skin, making sure he doesn't pin you instead. He seems to know where you’ll kick, the vital points you try and dig your fingers into. But you persevere, you get the upper hand when you get him face down in the grass and pin his arm behind his back, a knee in the soft dip of his spine.

He huffs against the dewy grass, a soft angry-laugh. “I'm going to make you regret this.”

“Oh yeah?” Your tanto knife looks deadly against the skin of his throat, and he stills. “Repeat that for me.”

“Your Lord–”

“Can you not imagine any woman’s choice or actions being independent of anyone? What about my Lord? If you've  forgotten, he’s a demon. He’d care less about me killing some human than whether it’s going to rain in the coming days.”

“Guess you don't know how crucial rains are for rice growing.”

“Save me the metaphors.” You huff. You tap the knife against his neck as you speak, if only to make him flinch.

“You know? I used the little blade on more men than I have demons. Isn't that something?”

“...I bet you don't even know how to use that.”

“That's for you to figure out. Try me. And do I really have to know how to use a blade to be able to stab you?” 

“Your Lord-”

“I call him that out of gratitude and habit, but he is not my Lord.”

“You still must obey him.”

“Because he offers me protection, shelter, food, whatever else I could need. Mostly, because he is a demon.

“ou and I are on two very different boats, in two very different waters. So. you’re going to get up, and pick up the things you dropped. You will walk in front of me. You will not speak and if you even try to pull a stunt like that again, I will make you bleed. How much depends on what you do, but you will bleed. Understand?”

And it takes him a moment to quell the hate in his eyes and swallow, but he jumps as your blade digs in, red dripping down, and stutters out a “Y-Yes.”

“Good. Thank you. You can do just that.” You stay close, in case he tries to get some distance on you for a hit or grab, but he just does as you told him, hateful eyes cast to the floor, and starts walking.

You follow him back down to the inn. You don't sheath your tanto.

You don't parade Takashi through the streets, but enough people stop in their tracks to stare at the way Takashi walks in front of you, face stormy and pace brisk. He probably did that to spite you to run after him, but again, you’re used to traveling so it is no issue for you.

In no time at all you reach the inn, and Numachi-san is already pacing the entrance, wringing her hands in worry, she rushes up as she sees you two approach.

“I’ve had a few people come up to the inn already to tell me something odd has happened. J-Jaken went with the Lord into town and should be back soon. Rin is here…So is everything alright?” She rubs at the side of her neck, like theres a kink there. You shake your head.

Word does travel fast in small places. “Everything is fine.” You had long put away your tanto when you entered the village, but kept it in your sleeve, flashing it whenever Takashi looked back.

“We got the rice and the fish–”

“I would like to sit inside and rest, if I may, Numachi-san,’ Takashi cuts you off. His face is cool and he doesn't look at you.

“I’m tired from walking all the way from my home to here with such a heavy load. Will you let me inside?” Her dark eyes flash between you two, her hands worrying that spot on her neck. She meets your eyes, and you shake your head, warning her with your eyes. 

But she looks back to Takashi-san, the tense way he waits like a coil about to spring, and sighs. “Perhaps… just for a cup of tea, before you go?” You throw your hands in the air, and stomp after him as he walks in.

He settles down, and Numachi-san is ready with the tea quick enough. But he goes on talking, or stalling rather, and you’re not stupid enough to wonder what he is stalling for. You glare at Numachi-san, who only has the courage to meet your eyes for a few seconds at a time, keeping her head bowed to the young man.

For someone who might’ve killed her husband she sure is meek.

“I’ve never seen the inside of this place, but it's wonderful, Numachi-san!”

“Thank you, Takashi-san.”

“I mean, I was just a child when the last owners, erm, moved on, but the building seemed damaged beyond repair. The fact that you restored it, and ran such a thriving business before the demon attacks increased–just proves what a dedicated woman you are.”

“You’re much too kind Takashi-san.” She refills his cup and he sends you a pointed look, like you’re supposed to feel something other than annoyance. Out of the corner of your eye you see Rin poke her head into the room. She’s not sly though, and Takashi catches note of her.

“Is that the child that accompanies you? What's your name girl? You don't have to be–”

“You have no right to speak nor look at her, and I suggest you leave before you dig yourself in any deeper,” you shut that down real quick, and Numachi-san’s shoulders hunch up to her ears. 

But he just tilts his head at you, like he’s looking at a bug.

“Speaking without being spoken to, such base manners. I’ll be sure to bring this other point up to your master. I hope you’re teaching the girl to be better than that.”

“Am I supposed to be scared?” You take the pot closer to your side so Numachi-san can't refill his cup, knowing he wont do it himself.

“And it's still better than a prick who derives his worth from how well he can be served by a woman. Or one who attacks another from the back because their pathetic ego was injured.” 

Takashi-san slams his cup down. “Better than one who doesn't know their place or lot in life.”

“What place? What lot?” You laugh. “If anything, take your own words to heart. You just can't handle seeing someone else living your dream while you waste away in a place like this. You can't handle your fragile ego being challenged by a woman, no less. That's why you attacked me.” 

You grin as he leans forward. Your voice drops to a hush, a loud whisper. “I'll be sure to savor it more in your place when we leave.” You see Rin dart away from the corner of your eye, gone like a leaf in the wind. Good. Better she doesn’t see this anyway.

“You are so insolent. Your Lord allows this?”

“And you're a simp. Always mentioning ‘my lord’ this, or ‘my lord’, that. It’s like you’re the one that’s in love with him.”

“I’m going to–”

“What? Try me, make my day!”

“Please!”  Numachi-san cuts in, waving her hands between you two. “Let's just settle down now. There's no need to get so agitated. Look, the tea is getting cold.” She tries to take the teapot back from you but you don’t let her.

“I would love to Numachi-san, but someone has to tell this one that their manners are uncouth,” He grits, “Befitting of a low class sow.”

“Aha, you’re mad,” It's childish but you poke your tongue out. “And jealous too. It's not a very pretty look, you know?”

“Be quiet!”

“Make me!” 

“What is going on here?! ” Both of you turn, and Jaken stands there in his bug eyed glory, that eerie two headed staff in his hands, eyes narrowed. Takashi immediately gapes– for a resident of a town stalked for decades by a demon, he acts like he never heard nor saw one of one until this very point.

“Human.” He points the staff at you, and both Numachi-san and Takashi flinch. “Explain.”

“The boy overstays his welcome,” you drawl, “though he was never welcome to begin with. He took it upon himself to be my chaperone and insists on staying to meet the Lord.”

“Ha!” He squawks, and Takashi’s eyes dilate at the sound.

“You? Meet the Lord?”

“I just…I-I just wanted to, to explain! Yes, explain what happened today. His servant nearly drowned in the streams–”

“I did not–”

“And t-the silence… I just wanted to advise the Lord that maybe it's best that she remains…here. Women aren’t suited for manual labor, you know…?”

“I know?” Takashi pauses, gulps. “So I just…wanted to offer my services, is all!”

Jaken doesn’t look impressed, but he rarely does. “You’re trembling in front of an imp, and you think you can be of service to the Lord?” Takashi shoots you a baleful glare as you snort, and draws his shoulders up.

“Yes. Yes I do.”

You see Takashi-san tremble when Jaken smiles, perfectly too wide and uncanny, and on purpose. “Well good. You can plead your case to the Lord then, he is here.”

“What?”

“And that's my cue to go.” You rush to your feet, and don't bother with bowing or muttering your goodbyes.

“Wait, excuse you?! Where are you–”

“Human–”

“Don't forget to tell the Lord how you tried to pin me down on the banks. And everything that we’ve said to the other. Everything.”

“Running, are you?” He grins. It shakes at the edges.

You just smile, really smile; Wide, and with your teeth, gleeful and mischievous, pulling at your cheeks and crinkling your eyes.

“You know, you’re much more tolerable, and cuter, when you keep your mouth shut. Remember that.”  And as the confusion settles on his face you go. 

You hear the sliding door rushes open, and you disappear around the corner quick enough not to be seen. You can hear the muted, frightened, greetings of the two you left, but that's none of your concern anymore. Numachi-san should have never let them in and he shouldn't have been such a sexist prick.

You bathe first, the day's dirt and sweat sloughing off your skin in the water, and you wash quickly, eager to soak in the hot springs. You clean off the dried blood on your ankle. You dip your toes in when you’re ready, it's a touch too hot, but nothing unbearable, and you dip into the water with a wince, then a sigh. The heat smooths away your aches and pains, and you sit in the spring, content.

You don't know how long it is, but moments later, you hear banging, and rushing, yells. A man’s voice, Takashi-san. It doesn’t sound like he’s being murdered. The Lord is efficient enough you wouldn't hear him scream. Maiming it is then. Takashi-san sounds high pitched and afraid, and you listen to the sounds of crashing and screaming throughout, and then, silence. Nothing. 

Nothing else. Rin appears, comes over to the edge of the pool you're in, toiletries in her hand.

“...You okay?” she nods. “Where did you go earlier?” She points back inside. “Went to get L-Lord Sesshoumaru.”

“That was you?” A nod. “He was actually c-close b-by.”

“...Okay. Okay, thank you Rin.” She hums when you pet her hair. “That guy was being a j-erk.”

“Yeah, he wouldn’t stop going on and on about what I should or shouldn’t do, because my Lord,” You groan and roll your eyes. “What happened after I left?”

“That guy told on you,” her breath is hardly above a murmur, but steady.  “You were in trouble at the stream. Wood went silent so he followed. Fought with you. He said you, y-you shouldn’t be on your own. No common sense. He said he could h-help.”

“Ha! Stupid.” You roll your shoulders as she lays out the towels.

“And what did our noble and regal Lord say to all that?” She gives you a look like you don't know exactly what he did. 

“Are you alright?” She nods again, then thinks, shrugs. “The Lord l-looks upset. He took his ear.”

“...I asked about you. Did you eat, bathe already?”

“Yeah. A-And Numachi-san gave me snacks. So it's your turn n-now.” You smile at your girl as she reveals what she hid in the bundle of towels, a cup of tea and some mochi.

“Wow, wonder where Numachi-san got Mochi from in a place like this.”

“She made it.” Oh. Maybe that's what the rice was for. Rin supplies. She sets down her wares and pats your arm. 

“Don't take too long, or you’ll faint. Dinner w-will be ready soon.” And her feet pitter patter away.

You don’t know how long you speak there, but the light dims from what peaks under the rag, oranges and red slowly bleeding into evening. You hear nothing save the water and crickets and the wind, Jaken on the inside scurrying to do who knows what. Rin said that dinner should be done soon, so Numachi-san is fine, and the Lord was either in his room, or long gone, back to find whatever demon was plaguing this town. You sink deeper into the water.

When you open your eyes, Sesshoumaru is there at the brim of the spring, staring at you.

You gasp, and choke, consequently.

He watches you flounder, as you hack up the water you inhaled.

“Almost drowning twice in one day. A record for you.”

“Not on purpose!” you flick water at him and speckle his cheek with water drops. But he’s unperturbed.

“I heard,” he drawls. “That something happened at the stream.” and his eyes, so they dilate?

“Tell me.” He leaves no room for rebuttal or refusal. So you tell him what happened at the Old man Tianga’s place, at the stream. You don't mention the odd silence, mainly because he didn't ask yet.

“....The boy is not wrong in what he said. But he put hands on my belongings; That warrants punishment.”

“Belongings?”

“You are my servant, and he deigned to put his hands on you.” He takes your wrist and pulls your arm, gingerly, out the water. He turns it, this way and that, and only now do you see the faint marks from your scuffle in the banks.

“They’re not that bad.”

“The problem is that they are there at all.” His eyes are bright, and angry. You only know that lookin passing–whenever you would annoy him too greatly. This is ten times that.

“Not only that, he insulted you, b y extension me. And to have the audacity to ask to be my disciple? I should have taken his hands and his tongue, not two simple fingers.”

“And an ear. Which I wonder about…you were lenient with him, my Lord.” 

“I was,” he lets your arm slip back into the warm waters.  “The child was watching.”

“Ah.” Rin was no stranger to gruesome sights- they were unavoidable with a demon samurai Lord for a master, but at least he had some discernment, if not compassion for the young girl.

“So why the ear?”

His jaw is tight, as is his voice. “The boy didn’t heed his senses. He continued to spout nonsense.”

“Haha! That's what you tell me all the time.”

“Yes, those inane tales you drivel on about… at least they serve a purpose.”

You cross your arms on the lip and rest your arms in their cradle, looking back at him. “What, entertaining Rin and staving off her nightmares?”

“No. Beyond that. You speak of the future–that I will live to see.”

“Like, wait what? That's… hundreds of years in the future, Seshoumaru.” You almost slap a hand over your mouth over the lack of honorifics, but he doesn't correct you.

“I will still live to see it. These things you speak of, skyscrapers, electricity, automobiles, public parks and libraries and sprawling cities. I will be witness to it all.”

You didn't think he paid any attention to the things you rambled about. You didn't think he listened. Or cared. “So what am I, like, your seer?”

“Exactly.”

“...I never thought of it like that.”

“Dense.”

“Stop calling me that! I am not dense.” You huff and pout, but he ignores you, as he often does, choosing instead to lean over, looking into the waters for…something.

“You’re injured.”

“Huh?” What? He just saw your arm. It takes you a moment to realize he probably means your ankle.

“Oh yeah.” How did he know? You almost forgot. By now the wound wasn't so fresh, not yet scabbed over and just starting to heal. Soft and pink and shiny.

Sesshoumaru looms over you.. “Show me.”

“...?” How? Are you supposed to do a handstand underwater? He sighs, annoyed, and reaches down–

And suddenly he has you by the collar, pulling you up and out of the water to sit at the brim. You splutter, but he pays it no heed, just crouching down so he could inspect your ankle closer. Despite the furrow to his brow he sets you down so gently.

“It's fine, it's already started to heal.”

“That's for me to decide.”

“Oh really, of course, of course. Tell me when to breathe too, I’ll keep your words in mind.” And, quicker than you could blink he reaches for your ankle, pulling you forwards a bit. You almost topple back into the waters, your third drowning of the day, but right yourself in time, casting a glare at Sesshoumaru. Your ankle is bird thin and fragile looking against his pale hand. This touch too, is careful.

You're still technically in your underclothes. If he lifts your leg up any higher he's going to see something.

He just…stares at the wound, soft from the water, something pointed and uncanny in that gaze. He looks at it, this way and that under the mellow torchlight, evening deepening into a darker hue of blue, sunlight gone.

“I should have taken both his hands…”

“I think that would have been a tad too much.” Yeah, he's a prick but you didn't want his life ruined.

Sesshoumaru hums under his breath, a light note. “You defend him?”

“Like any good samaritan will do,” you respond cheekily. “Plus, he’s the only son of old man Taiga, so he stands to inherit the rice paddies.”

“So?” The tone he uses is still light, but dangerous for its levity. 

“If there's no more rice how will they make any mochi? This is the best we found in recent months.” You reach behind and snatch a piece from the plate Rin left you, humming at the treat.

“I can forgive any slight so long as I’m awarded treats in return.”

“Glutton,” he pushes out a breath. “I knew you were never loyal.”

Oh, was that a joke? You laugh. “What can I say? I have needs that must be satisfied.”

As he looks over your ankle you take the moment to look over the contours of his hand, the elegant wrist disappearing underneath the robe, the crips collar of his Kimono. Even here, like this, he looks so unruffled. 

“Needs?” And he lifts your ankle higher. “Do I not account for them all?”

“...My most pressing and immediate ones.”

“Hm. And seeing as those are met, which others might I satisfy?”

Oh.

And your heart pounds into overdrive.

He brings your ankle closer to his face… and licks.

You flinch back in reflex, but that only amounts to an inch within his grip. His eyes flash over to you, but when he meets no more resistance his tongue darts out again, lapping over the wound. 

It doesn't hurt– his tongue is wide and flat, and thin, like a dog, you think, and just swipes over, cleaning the skin almost. But it feels weird, and you’re puzzled, and his grip tightens as you flinch back. 

You’re trying not to tremble, but when his mouth moves to the thin part on the back of your ankle you gasp. There's a pause he takes, before he bites down. It's just a nip really, but you gasp again, and then his teeth are trailing, up, up your calf– then he stops.

Well, only for a second. His hand moves, smoothing along the soft skin of your leg, underneath the wet cloth. It slides to your thigh, and he pulls up and back. He slots forward in the open space between your thighs, leans forward, and suddenly you're folded up tiny against the grass and his chest, one leg on his shoulder and the other pretty close.

You squeak, hands flying to his shoulders, while his nails trail softly over the back of your thigh, raising goose flesh, creeping on dangerous territory.

Something soft rumbles in his throat.

“You still smell like that boy…”

“O-oh?” you squeak, breathy.

“I don’t care for it.”

“Well, it wasn’t like it was on purpose.”

"I should hope not." And he moves even closer. The spikes of his armor press into you and he's all around you--His hair a curtain that blocks off the outer world, a few strands dipping into the springs. Like earlier, he goes straigh to your neck. He trails the tip of his nose along the conturs of your neck, the under curve f your jaw, dipping down to your collarbone and starting the journey over again. Almost like he's nuzzling you.

He takes slow, deep breaths through his mouth. He breathes in, holds it...and releases it steadily, like he's trying to make your scent stick to the back of his throat. You smell nothing on him but cold, and metal, and silk. But beneath that frigidness is something...softer. Not gentle, more refined, almost. fresh, not unlike linene, or fresh cut greenery. You like it.

But you can't really move, and it's getting hot, and not in a good way. You feel his weight, yes, but it feels more imposing thatn comforting. The gurgle of the water is all you can hear; that and the blood in your ears.

If you scream now, no one will hear you.

"Wait, wait," you gasp, your voice a pitiful breath. "I can't...wait a moment." For a second you think he's not going to move, he presses closer into you, further pushing the breath from your lungs. But with a growl deepening in his throat, he moves away.

You can't help feeling like his gaze is accustaory when he looks at you

"You breath is scarce. Calm yourself."

"I am calm."

"Hm." And he takes your wrist, presses his thumb to your veins. For a minute you think he's going to slide his wrist across yours in that soothing motion, he moves to, but he doesn't. Its disappointing.

"No. Your pulse is too quick." He lets you go. "I can smell your lust. But above that, your fear. I told you, I wont have a tearful servant girl in my bed. You must be willing or not at all."

He rises to leave, but you panic, leave, dont leave---you're confused between the two. But you grab onto his sleeve, and he stops.

"Im not...Im not scared of you, not exactly...not really."

"I can--"

“Just--!! I don't understand. Why do you want me? What do you get from me?” You scoot back.

“Everyone keeps calling me your concubine or wife but I want to hear you. You said I was your seer, but what is that? Is that all you want from me? I don’t think it is.” Beads of water stumble down the cradle of his jaw, and you watch them instead of his eyes.

“You said 'willing or not at all'… Why do you care so much if I'm willing? You can just take.”

“There's no pleasure to be had when it’s forced,” he says. “And there is no need for force. You wouldn’t have come to my room if you weren’t enticed.

“And are you enticed?”

“I am. But that's not the issue here.”

And you think he’s going to sigh harshly, glare, or worse yet, leave. You don't want him to leave now. You see his furrowed brow and his waning patience, and you want to huddle into yourself against the brisk cold he’s sure to blow your way.

And he does sigh, but he doesn't leave. He lends back, and lands you back your space. “Then what is?” 

"You're going to listen to me?"

"Yes."

"...Why?"

"Because I want to."

The emotion that swells in your breast makes you duck your eyes, if only to hide the tears that have suddenly, embarrassingly, sprung. "Does a mountain need to heed the clouds?"

"The clouds dictate the skies. Even mountains are weathered by storms, and thrive in sunlight." He extends an open hand to you. "No more of this timidness. Speak plainly."

And so, you try.

“....I know this world is different from mine. In just the way I’m perceived. I am not your servant, your steward, or a disciple. I am not a companion, but a concubine. A wife if I’m lucky.” You snort.

“....But I’ve always been more than just my body, my Lord, and I do have my pride, meager though it may be. I've never belonged to anyone but myself. Whether this pride is at odds with you depends on your answer,” you sigh.

“I’ve named so many titles already. But what exactly am I to you?”

—------------

Torment. Lovely. Inferior. Endearing. Mine. Mine.

Damn instincts. Instead he asks, “...What need is there for specifications?”

“Forgive me my Lord, but…it is needed. What I am dictates what I can give.” You fumble with your hands, before clasping them together and holding them between your thighs, where he was moments prior. He should be back there, lapping at the slick dripping from your core, tasting it, tasting you but--- Ah, you're speaking. You said something. He has to listen.

“What do I give that is of value to this group? To you? Actual value, not those silly stories. I can neither set up camp quickly enough nor forage, fish or hunt better than the others can. My etiquette, or lack thereof is obvious. I'm much too insolent, in Jaken’s words. I take care of Rin and I love the girl to death but she’s mostly independent... She prefers Jaken anyways.”

Rin, who you took under your care and nurture, The same girl who could barely look him in the eyes or utter a sentence running in the middle of a dilapidated, haunted town to find him, for you.

“...So what do I offer you, that makes it so that I’m pulling my weight here? I don’t want to be useless.” And I don't want to be coddled either, he hears the unspoken words. So he answers you.

“Spring wears

A cloak of mist.

A thin fabric,

For the mountain breeze

Would, doubtless, disarray it.”

Your brow furrows.  “I don’t–”

“An exercise in subtlety,” he remarks. “And an answer to your question.” He gestures. “Go on.” Ariwara again? So you reply,

“In my yearning

I am fading completely as

The morning dew;

This morning to arise

Was beyond me.”

He ‘tsk’s’. “Again, with the dew?”

“I mentioned it, what, once last night? You can't fault me.” You say it a bit too defensively; You wish he would just answer you, or leave you be, but he does not. You just have to stay there and listen as he recites, your breath stuttering when his hand moves to your face, a finger over a cheekbone, nothing more.

“More even than the dew

From an illustrious house come

This chrysanthemum, so

The flower’s Mistress

Will live longer still, I believe.”

Chrysanthemums… Sunlight?

“The colour of this flower

Has already faded away,

While in idle thoughts

My life goes by,

As I watch the long rains fall.”

He responds back, just as quickly, 

"At Yoshino River

Waves crash high above the rocks

The rushing water

Swift as your

Lodging within my thoughts."

“...I nearly drowned today my Lord, is that not inappropriate?” 

“Something more tasteful then,” he comments.

“If it be so, Then so be it

I thought once, but

As white snow falling,

With the passing day

My yearning grows ever stronger.”

There's no mistaking the context of his words. But also not the roiling emotions in your heart. You reply,

“...An ancestral home

It is not, so

Towards me why

Is his heart

So cold and distant?”

His body language goes stiff, the ease in which he held himself something you hadn't noticed until it was gone. You are sorry to see it.

“...Don’t respond so hastily if you don't want to be answered in the next breath,” you exhale. You could wonder at your own audacity, and you might have imagined it, but he pauses before he recites another.

“A secret it is, but

When I feel love rise,

From leg wearying

Mountains, the moon

Sets out, and so do I.”

“...My Lord, please, don’t.” You don’t even know what he’s asking,  but he’s running his fingers over your neck, the dip at the base and pressing onto the mark he left. It makes you shiver. You notice it for a soothing habit, and it makes you wonder. But he continues.

“This world of men

Is such a place:

The gusting wind,

Invisible, as she I’ve never seen

And yet do love.”

“My Lord, w-wait--”

“Do you wish to reply?” He’s just petting you with that stray finger, and stuck between your passion and hesitance, you can't speak.

“...I, I just…” he hums a note, too low to be anything more than a vibration in the air.

“Night deepens

With the sound of calling deer,

And I hear

My own one-sided love.”

“It's not!” You rush, your hand coming to the one at your throat. You lean forward. “It's not!”

“Then why this hesitance? Why do you care so greatly for the words of others?”

How do you explain that kind of fear, that kind of insecurity, just like that? “...I’m scared that their words will prove right. That I'll just be another woman of circumstance.”

“You’re unlike any woman nor demon I’ve encountered in this era. If I haven’t killed you yet, what makes you think I would now?”

“...I’m scared of more than just death, at your hands any less. I’m wary of your ire, and the slow rot of my self under domestic subservience,” you admit. It feels like being flayed alive.

“You were never subservient,” He shuts that down. “Why would you start now?”

Why would you start now?

…Yeah. Wait, why would you?

"What...?" Wait...

“I can barely keep you tethered and quiet in one place for an hour, or keep enough sense in your thick skull to keep you out of danger. If anything, this is more work on my end,” he drawls. “So again, why would you start trying to be competent now?”

You start laughing, big, belly shaking laughs that have you holding yourself together. Yeah...yeah! Why would you?

And that, that realization, that relief, is like a breath of fresh air. What were you even worried about?

“What is this–”

You rush forward, laughing still, lacing your fingers in his hair and pulling him down into a kiss.

>_>_>_>_>_>_>_>_>_>_>_>_>

You rest easily, in his futon, under his sheets. He has no pressing need for slumber, now or otherwise, so he’s never used the bedding here. He regrets it almost–There so much you’re missing, that you don’t know. You deserve a nest–full of pillows and quilts and whatever strikes your fancy. Clothing articles, his, naturally. You don't have the same sense of smell but he’s sure it would be just as effective. Because even now, you burrow into his side and sigh contentedly in your slumber. 

A new bruise sits above the one he first gave, darker, and larger. They’re joined by others, varying colors of bruises. It's not a mating mark–not yet. He plans to give you it when you mate, so that the pleasure could override the worst of the pain. 

It doesn't matter if you're human or not. He has decided that he wants you. He finds the emotion is reciprocated, and thus, you are his. Honeysuckle scent and annoying behavior and all.

He smooths over the faint marks with a finger, under the curve of your jaw and your parted, kiss swollen lips. Your lashes flutter under his touch, ghosting over your skin and the scent glands right beneath your ears. He bit here too. Not as deep as he'd like.

You just sigh deeper, but dont wake, a steady wash of honey over him as he presses against the glands. He can still taste your skin on his tongue, the way you shuddered.

“Sleep here,” he demanded. But it was not forceful, because he knew you would agree.

“And what about Rin?”

“Tell her, and come hither after she falls asleep then.” He clicked his tongue. “You and your fretful worries…”

But he doesn't mind it. A faint scent of milk lays over your skin, and it’s endearing, for how familiar it is. It doesn't vex him as greatly as it should.

Alpha children are born with more mild versions of their scents, which mature quickly with age. The mild sweet milk scent fades a few weeks after birth. For betas, it stays a year or so, before settling into something bland and weak. For omegas, the scent lasts up to teenhood. Rin has barely finished her first decade.

Two omegas under his ward. What are the chances? He dreads the day of her maturing, twice as many demons following their trail. Perhaps you were right in wanting you both to learn swordplay. If anything, a person should be their own last line of defense.

And you two are especially weak.

He has to tamp down on that dark satisfaction that builds, in your case particularly. Rin is a child, he will ensure her safety and comfort. But you…He has to remind himself despite his instincts. You are not some soft, pampered omega mate he keeps in his abode. Your weakness is not what draws him to you. And neither will it ever, he detests the weak and aimless. It's your fearlessness he favors. Your mind, thick as it is.

A man threatened you and you didn't simper, you pinned him down and drew your blade against his throat. He’s disappointed in you that you didn't decide to draw blood, but he’ll take care of that on your behalf. The thought of the boy and his murky, spicy scent over yours makes his eyes bleed red. He insulted you. Put his hands on you. He cannot let this insult be.

He needs a proper lesson. So he slips away from your lovely warmth, your aroma, and slips outside.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

It's easy to find the salt and musk trail of the boy, even easier to walk his way to the rice paddies. But the boy isn't there– He hears the struggling breath of an old man, and four sets of gentle, even breathing. Not there. There's a hidden path leading from the house, down to the streams and into a secluded area. It looks like only one set of feet made this nothing trail, and it's exactly who he’s looking for. Though, It's still close enough that should he scream, people will hear.

He plans to be quick.

He’s training, with a bamboo sword that must have been hand made, decent, despite its crudeness. Sweat and blood and the stressed scent of pain lacerates the air, his skin flush with exertion. He practises a basic set of moves, efficient, but lacking proper stance.

He stumbles, and when he pauses, Sesshoumaru notices he leans towards the side missing an ear, bloody bandages around his hands, gripping onto the makeshift weapon. He lacks talent, and manners, and dicipline, but holds no small amount of tenacity. Which unfrtunately will remain unrewarded.

Sesshoumaru stalks. He doesn’t crouch nor hide–he moves too fast for the discernible, human eye as he circles his victim, looking for the best angle to slice him. His nails and teeth lengthen. 

The wind stills and the animals silence themselves. Insects no longer cricket or tribble, and the birds still, ready to burst into flight at the slightest movement.

The night is at standstill. But he is not the reason why.

He steps away. His blade slips out its sheath like water poured out a glass. It rests above the pale throat of its target, the faintest red line rising underneath its honed edge.

The demon raises its hands, a Naga; White scales that would stand out in the pitch darkness, he must use demonic energy to hide himself. The scent of it is thin and acrid, rot-sweet. An alpha, but a weak one.

It spreads it's raised hands, not in surrender, but supplication. It tilts it's head down the slightest bit, even if it digs its throat deeper into the blade.

“You are the demon hunting this town.”

“That is I,” He expected a thin, hissing voice, but the naga sounds like any normal human male. Again, weak.

“And you are the Lord of the Western Lands, the Great Daiyoukai Sesshoumaru. I am honored to be in your presence.”

“And foolish.” Skin parts like butter under the blade, dripping a thin red.

“I let you live so long as you stayed out of my sight. Now you lose your head.”

“Ah ah!” It tries to placate. “I truly apologize, my lord, but If anything, I was hunting here first. You came to me.” It hisses low as Sesshoumaru presses. “And you came to meet your end.”

“Didn't you come here for the boy?” The naga points back. “I’ll, I’ll back off! I was planning to eat him and one of his sisters, or two, but I’ll go! You need not see my face again!”

He seems a pretty weak demon.

But the luminosity of those teeth and scales belied the cowardice It had shown. The wreckage left in the town discredited it further.

Strangely, there is soot over the wrecked buildings, like something had been burned. This would not be difficult to believe, if a demon trespassed into a home and knocked over lighted oil, but there is no sign of fire damage around the buildings; The grass is still fresh and green around it. The buildings are a few years old, yes, but if there had been a fire there would be more pressing signs, Jaken stressed.

“The female head of the staff spews water, and the old male head spews fire, so I know the destruction both could wreck,” the imp pondered. “All the buildings have soot, but very slight burn marks. With how close and tight the community is, there would have been more obvious tells. No one in this town seems to have any breathing problems, or limps, and with these many ‘fires’, this town should have been burnt down, no matter that they live so close to a mountain stream,” He squawked.

“Something is suspicious with this town…”

And he was looking at that something.

“Tell me, why should I not kill you now and ensure that future myself?” A hiss slithers in the Naga’s throat, but It doesn't bear It's fangs. It's tail slashes the air anxiously.

“Because…Because I have done you no wrong nor do I intend to.” The blade presses in and It fights, Sesshoumaru sees, not to lash out. It knows attacking means earning his ire, which is certain death.

In most cases, not yours.

“B-Because I have information!”

“Lower your voice,” he says in low tones. “What information?”

"You, you must swear not to kill me afterwards. I want your word as a samurai!"

"You have my word I wont kill you if its not useless." He gripes. "Now speak or lose your life."

“That, that innkeeper…she's an omega as well.”

“The hag?” He can't even recall the color of her eyes, her head always bowed, let alone if her scent had the telltale sweetness of an omega.

“She’s human, and a widow.”

“Yes, and old, so the scent withers off to nothing. If some desperate alpha re-mated her, it might make a reappearance.”

“Re-mated,” he said. “She was mated by a demon?”

“Well, humans couldn’t mate with each other even if they knew how. Yes. That's why she was driven out her village, and came here.”

“And you made her a widow when you killed her husband.”

“I ate him for power, yes, he was very strong. And delicious."

Hm. She does show all the typical signs of an omega, if he recalls. He just can't imagine her paired with a demon. She should have more a backbone, if so. She seemed a pretty meek thing when he confronted her after the boy had ran from the inn.

The boy drips blood and tears, sobbing pitifully as he staggers from the inn, holding his parts. When Sesshoumaru turns the innkeeper is kneeling in seiza, trembling, head to her hands on the floor.

“M-My Lord–” He tosses her the cut off ear, still warm and dripping.

‘You stand to lose much more if you allow anyone else inside.”

“M-My sons are coming to visit me, tomorrow or the day after, my Lord.” More nuisances.

“I don’t want to see them. I don't want to catch a scent nor sound. Understood?”

“Y-Yes, yes, my Lord. Of course, My Lord.” And so he goes to you.

"And what of her children?"

“Her sons?" The naga's nose wrinkles. "They are hanyo’s, half bloods…disgusting, I know. One of them is a beta, and the other is an alpha.” It casts a knowing look. “So I suggest you keep your little omegas from wandering about too far.”

His blood spikes. Yes, he has the demon of this town at blade point, but it was a weak and a coward, and now there were two others, no matter that they were the innkeepers' sons, heading straight for the lot of you.

So he sheathes his blade. He turns and shows his full back to the demon, a blatant insult.

“The next time I see you will be the last. You have my word.”

“Well, I sincerely hope it wont be,” he can hear the relief in it's voice. “And, were you not stalking the boy…?”

“Take him, his lack of situational awareness is his own undoing.” He thinks. “But leave the rest of the family be. Just the boy. That and your life is the reward for your information."

“The only thing better than a daughter is an oldest son,” the naga laughs. He bows where his waist tapers into scales.

“And it's always good to live one more day. Thank you, my Lord.”

“I intend to know the name of the next demon I kill.”

“Oh, my name?” the naga grins, each tooth pointed sharp and gleaming.

“It’s Shingetsu Numachi.”

________________________________________

Taglist: @tanspostsblog . @xmenteria,

________________________________________

Poetry links

Ariwara no Yukihira / Ariwara no Yukihira / Fujiwara no Masatada / Ono no Komachi / Ki no Turayuki / Ariwara no Narihira / Ise / Tsurayuki / Tsurayuki / Ono no Komachi

A/N: I used a lot more poetry in this one, but can you believe I cut it down? I wanted to add more but stuck with the ones that lent more to the plot. So I stood with the really romantic 'era accurate' poems (smh Sesshoumaru has to confess via poetry bc our mc really is that dense) lol.

__________________________________________________

[luna-rainbow]

Allow me to present the defense case for Peggy Carter.

I don't mean the PC who is in What If BTW. I don't know who she is, but she's not Peggy. I mean the original version from 2011-2014, especially from recently re-watching The First Avenger.

Peggy comes off as being very aloof, detached and rather condascending at times. I argue that's because she had to be. Its very hard for women in the armed forces even today- but back in the 1940s it would have been even more difficult for a woman to hold her own in a male dominated context like the army. She'd have had to worked many times harder to prove herself and to gain the respect which her male counterparts took for granted purely by virtue of their gender and rank. If she showed any kind of emotional vulnerability or it seemed like she didn't know what she was doing, the men would have pounced on it and taken it as "evidence" she was just a weak and feeble woman who didn't belong in "thier" world. Even then... we still see people being insubordinate and talking down to her. When she punched that soldier who was making lewd remarks (can't remember his name) I don't see her being a bully. I see a woman having to deal with the type of casual sexism she probably experienced on a daily basis. When men who were far below her in rank treated her with contempt or just saw her as a sex object. No way that soldier would *ever* have spoken to a senior ranking male like that... She was also dealing with it in a very masculine way. Like another soldier would. In regards to Steve: again I don't think Peggy is ever intentionally mean or cruel to him. Yes, she's sassy and snarky, but I think she had to learn to be like that to hold her own among men. Her interactions with him in the movie are actually quite positive overall: she smiles when he uses his ingenuity and jumps on a dummy grenade, she doesn't talk about how weak he was she views him as a proper soldier when a lot of others don't: including Colonel Phillips. Even after the Serum Philips just sees him as some glorified performer whereas she trusts his judgement: reluctantly at first but willingly afterwards.

For his own part, Steve never talks down to her or views her as inferior. He was probably one of first men who did that only after Howard Stark perhaps.

When she said that Bucky was probably dead: again I don't think she was being uncaring. That line came after just after saying the 107th had been through "more than most" upon seeing an ambulance bringing an injured soldier back from the front. It seems to me she didn't want to see *another* man die in what she had every reason to think was a suicide mission. I mean, its very likely she'd lost friends before, maybe even had family members killed. Besides of which, she ended up helping Steve go on that rescue mission by persauding Howard to drop him near the HYDRA facility on his plane. Then didn't apologize for her actions afterwards even though Colonel Philipps basically threatened to basically demote her.

Finally, that scene where she fires her gun at Steve's shield: again I don't see that as bullying. When he kissed that other woman (*who did it very deliberately in front of Peggy*) it was quite obviously an attempt to make her jealous. (Not on Steve's part, but the other woman). I think in that moment she felt betrayed, because she believed Steve was different to the other men she encountered. Men who just saw her as a conquest or an airhead. She thought he was behaving "just like the other soldiers"- i.e treating women as objects, and she had an emotional reaction. She was actually wrong, but that proves she's flawed. She's human after all!

So yeah, Peggy in The First Avenger is great. She's sassy and snarky but she does seem to genuinely care for Steve as well. I see them as having a lot in common: both people who struggle to be accepted by others but find their place eventually.

Okay, before I start, I want to say that I did like her mannerisms when I first saw CATFA, because I like no-nonsense female characters. However, movies!Peggy was not a fully formed character — just as movies!Bucky wasn’t. One was the token love interest, the other was the token best friend. Hence, there are specific traits embedded in Peggy’s characterisation, or rather her story roles, that are factors of a male author writing a female love interest for a genre about macho superhero men. Which in itself is a product of the misogynistic nature of 2010 MCU.

Firstly, she’s never actually had her rank or her professional role specified. She introduced herself as an “agent supervising all operations of this division”, but all she does is hover around Howard and Philips in their offices. She’s not on the battlefield with Steve (no matter how her own series tried to rewrite it). She’s not in the field acting as a spy/agent. We are told she’s important, because somehow as an agent she’s giving orders to military trainees — a weird role but we can give her that suspension of disbelief — but we are never shown her doing anything important to contribute to war efforts. More than this being Peggy is a useless person, it’s a symptom of the writer not knowing how to handle a female professional in WW2, to the point of calling her an agent but having her both being in the science division and giving military trainee orders but hanging around looking like a secretary. And why exactly could Philips threaten to demote her? Who does she even work for? He could demote her if she’s military but she’s not. So it’s never clear that those soldiers are her subordinates, because they’re not. She’s not in the chain of command! And so why should they respect someone who’s not in their chain of command telling them that she’s going to give orders? She does have to earn it.

You and I remember that kissing scene very differently. Firstly, Lorraine pulled him into a kiss, Steve didn’t kiss her. We need to get the instigator clear here. We can debate how much of a willing participant Steve was, because that scene can be read anywhere from “Steve was unsure at first but then started to enjoy it” to “Steve was in shock the whole time and his hands came up to push her away”. Secondly, there’s no suggestion that either Lorraine or Steve knew Peggy was within watching distance, so I don’t agree with the interpretation that anyone did it to make Peggy jealous. Thirdly, Peggy and Steve were not an item at that stage, so it’s rather presumptuous of her to “feel betrayed”. What did he betray? He said he was waiting for the right partner, he didn’t say the right partner was her. She’s the one who’s taken it upon herself to demand his faithfulness. He never indicated he was happy to enter into that social contract. Fourthly, you’ve acknowledged that her emotional response to another woman kissing Steve was “flawed”, but object to that violent retaliation being called “bullying”. So let’s call it for what it is: unprofessional, unethical, unromantic, and bloody unhinged.

I’m sorry, there is no possible justification for discharging a gun at a man (and specifically in this case a man who is not in a relationship with you) over a kiss in an enclosed space at work where other bystanders could get injured.

But you know what? That scene is another symptom of male writers not knowing how to write a strong female love interest. In 2010 everyone knew it would be bad form if a man hit a woman for being kissed by another man, but violent anger from a woman directed at a man? That was seen as cute and funny and sweet. And that view exists because of the infantilisation of women. Female anger is seen as “not that hurtful” and “not that important”, dismissed as a momentary “emotional outburst” because women are prone to emotional outbursts, it’s a womanly thing to suddenly lose grip on logic over a jilted love. Where in a man that emotional volatility and violence would be a major character flaw that would turn him into a villain, in a woman that’s…cute and harmless.

So you know, Peggy was at the same level of neglect that Bucky-with-two-birthdates was. She was not a character they cared enough about to even give her a proper professional role in the army. She’s there because the movie needed a love interest. She’s there to show how unwanted Steve was before the serum, and how desirable he became after the serum. She appears, every now and then, to remind the audience she exists, but never in a way that directly affects the plot. @amarriageoftrueminds has multiple excellent metas explaining why the story could have proceeded without Peggy being present. She’s a character we are continuously told is important, but the narrative gives her only counselling type dialogues, and while those conversations are placed at narratively important milestones, none of her suggestions make any sway on Steve’s original plans before he started talking to her, making her someone who has minimal impact on Steve’s arc and on the story as a whole.

[sweettsubaki]

Ok I like characters getting better as much as the next person but every time a fic tries to tackle Sanji's sexism problem it just takes me out completely.

Like not every time obviously, but so many people seem to like...Not understand it ?

For one thing, part of it is linked to Oda's own sexism and the general sexism of the series (highly lessened in a lot of places thanks to Oda being an actual good writer who cares about his characters but it's still there) which means most characters are somewhat sexists (yes even Zoro king of I'll cut up anything and my childhood girl best friend could have been the greatest swordsman). So the fact that they usually just focus on Sanji but keep the rest kind of weirds me out.

Then there's the common "the girls don't like you back because your special treatment makes them uncomfortable" often answered with something along the lines of "but I respect them, I think they can do no wrong".

Which is so wrong on so many levels. Not the idea itself, but its application to Sanji. Like, he doesn't want to get anything out of those women (except seeing them naked and being stomped on but we're not getting into his kinks here). He does believe women are better than men...which includes him. So at no point does he want or expect anything other than being able to serve them which is part of why Oda focuses his development on his own self worth rather than anything else.

That boy does not have the self worth to actually try to flirt with anyone with the expectation that something could come out of it.

So like...Not wrong per se but this advice is very much a "missing the forest for the trees" kind of situation. He also does consider them to be people with their own wants and personalities.

Then there's the Nami/Robin part of it. Because people seem to think that they aren't close and that it's because of Sanji's behavior ? So first things first, they are close. They can have conversations and have fun even if Sanji will put them ahead of everything and everyone including himself (I'll touch on that bit in the part after this one). And like while he always agrees with the ladies BECAUSE they're ladies and it is an issue, he still like...listens to them ? And does think they're right most of the time (he'll also say it when he truly disagrees with something, like he did in Water 7).

- Let's start with Robin who behaves toward him the same way she behaves toward the east blue crew + Chopper, aka all the kids (yes, again, including Zoro, just because he's calmer doesn't mean he isn't also just a dumb kid). She entertains their excentricities in a way different to the way she treats the other adults. Sanji and her are actually fairly close because thay have a similar personality (and now they both know they also have similar backstories too). While he puts a big horny and romantic flourish over everything, he basically just treats her similarly to how he would have treated Reiju (how he did treat her in WCI) had they not been on different "teams".

- Then we have Nami. And I find it the funniest because she also has a bias toward women. A slightly different one sure (because they don't have the same issues) and it's also something I'll go over in the next part but it is a parallel between them that's pretty important and people often act like it's non existent and does not play a role in their relationship. Now they're both friends and before they met Vivi they were the most "mature" of the crew, the caretakers, and this is something that bonded them pretty early on. So yeah they're not the closest and Nami doesn't understand Sanji perfectly (that's part of why she needed to be in the WCI part as opposed to most of the Dressrosa/Wano crew) because they have basically similar symptoms but different reasons for these symptoms to exist, one of them being their self worth. It does not mean that they're not close or even friends. And because of Nami's own bias she has no problem taking advantage of Sanji's simping even if she can get a bit annoyed during serious situations and she has no problem telling him off when she wants to. So she actually encourages him and plays with his simping. And most of the time they're both fine with it. It's not one sided ! They're basically in a symbiotic relationship at this point....

Now let's talk about double standards and lack of them. Nami and Sanji both treat women better than they treat men (tho Sanji goes pretty girls first then other women, then boys while Nami just generally prefers women). Nami would give girls her treasures while making sure the men are indebted until even after their deaths.

So like...way better. That's why it's not just "treat them less like goddesses, more like people" or "this is the way to get girls to like you" problems.

Sanji's relationships with other men aren't "better" than those with the girls, and especially not because he treats them more "equally" than he does women. Like...Sanji is a brat, an asshole. He's closed off and emotional at the same time. He believes no man deserves women and especially not himself. He's kind but he's not particularly nice. He'll still protect and feed other men and just generally take care of them but he'll be mean about it.

And that's the thing, he's generally different in his overall words and attitude, but not really in his actions with a few exceptions. Like in chapter 700, he'll still make Onigiri for Law who doesn't want bread aka doesn't want sandwiches and he'll cut tiny sandwiches so Momo's tiny dragon hands can eat them normally despite being an ass toward them half the time.

Women aren't the only ones who get tailored help. He just does it with heart eyes for women and for the men he does it while insulting them.

His level of closeness is the about the same between men and women and the difference depend more on how the others chose to take him at face value than their gender. Because he hides from everyone and feels empathy for many others (event if he often won't admit it). It's the main difference between his relationship with Nami/Viví and Robin. Because Robin and Sanji have clown to clown communication.

I've reblogged this post recently, about how Sanji's empathy is directly linked to how he treats women, how "Sanji has an understanding that sometimes a woman has to lie." is linked more to his trauma and empathy than sexism tho that's how it manifests. You can add that the way he treated Usopp in Water 7 was actually fairly close to those too.

Also generally you have people who are either team "he's sexist because of his mom and sister" or "he's sexist because of Zeff" and it's kinda...weird ? Like it's both. Zeff offered him a way to channel his trauma and the way his sister and mom play into it plus because Sanji doesn't do things by halves, he went ahead and ran with it way too far.

So yeah Sanji has a sexism problem but so many fics (and fans in general) tend to see it as the cause of his behavior and not just a symptom of a different problem which is that his self worth is worse than that of a twig and his sexism is part of a coping mechanism for his trauma.

[unreadpoppy]

bg3, infographics, misogyny and you

Preface: this is a long ass post that I wrote some many weeks ago, and that because of some stuff I've seen, I'm compelled to finally post it. It's very like a spurn of the moment thing, not extremely well thoght out but I still think it's relevant.

.

Recently, a few people have posted some, in my opinion, really insightful infographics showing the difference in content to how many works (in AO3) there are to the female characters vs the male characters of BG3 and I've been thinking about how it relates to fandom in general, but also...everything.

As a quick rundown, what happens is: almost all of the female characters have a lot less content when compared to their male counterparts (at least writing wise). And I think this is a great moment to stop and think on why is that.

There's a lot of point to begin with but I want to begin with something larger and that is the society most of us are raised in. Obviously, I can't speak for everyone, but I think it's fair to say that most people grew up in places that had its fair share of sexism and give it or take, that does shape how we view the world.

I'll speak from my own experience. Even thought I had a mostly liberal upbriging, I went to a very conservative school and when I was growing up, I saw a lot of videos on youtube that anaylized media in what i can only describe as "god forbid women do anything". Video after video, I saw people commenting on how x female character was a mary sue, how she made no sense and ruined the plot, so many video essays on the """strong female character trope"""" that would end up just enforcing gender roles again. And I'll be honest, this DID affect how viewed female characters.

The best example I can give of this is with bg3 itself. There was one day that I stopped and realized that Minthara was the first time I ever obsessed over a fem character as much as any male character. And the second thought I had after this was 'oh my god why???'

Why did I always cater more to the male characters than I did to the female ones, when most of the times, I liked a lot as well?

I'd like to point out that I've seen the topic of "Most fic authors are cis straight women" being brought up a lot and frankly, I'm not the biggest fan of it. First, because I think it's overall a very...heteronormative way of seeing stuff and it's assuming a lot of stuff that puts a sour taste on my mouth (as a queer woman myself, I really don't like that implication but that's on me). Second, because saying that 'obviously women are going to write more about men' feels very...weird. Third, I just think that this argument fails to really question the why of it all and gives too simple an answer to something is anything but.

One can make the argument that these female characters are written differently than the men, and yes that is true and it's even historical (I wrote a whole project on the invisibility of women in theater through the ages and a lot of it has to do with how women were written, but that's a story for another time).

But I don't think that's true for all cases. It's easy to blame an imaginary writer's room than question that you might have internal biases.

Because at least it's what happened to me. I grew up hearing how female characters were inferior to the male characters and it affected how I viewed them. It's something I had to stop and reevalute and it led me to appreciate characters I once loathed.

And it sucks to realize that. It sucks to realize that even as a woman myself, I was not immune to commiting sexism, that I hadn't fully outgrown the shit I saw as a kid. Does that make me a bad person? No. You're not to blame for being raised in a way that leads you to have certain prejudices.

But it doesn't mean you can't do anything about it.

And no, the solution is not to suddenly go write a bunch of femslash. Because no one is saying that you should feel ashamed for writing more for men, or forcing you to like female characters. But, I ask you to do something much simpler.

Think on the why. Why, even when we love female characters, we don't show them as much love as we do to the male ones. Why we might feel more compelled to write for the men than for the women. Because sometimes it's questioning ourselves that we can find something about us we didn't know and change how we engage with media.

And you can brush this off as just fandom stuff, but I think it does, in some ways, also reflect a bit on how we act as whole as a society. Hell, writing this whole thing made me think of how the way I was raised still interferes with my own sexuality (which is a very personal topic for me to get on here but it was worth mentioning). What I'm trying to say is that sometimes something small is an easier way for us to understand the bigger, systemic issues around us.

I know that it sounds like there's nothing to be done cause fandoms have always been like this. But, personally, this sort of conformity to the norm causes more harm then good. Things won't change unless you decide to do something about it. And the good thing about fandom is that it's small enough that doing literally anything can create some impact than, I don't know, trying to solve big, real life societal issues.

This is getting long so I'm gonna try to wrap this up quickly. No one is shaming you if you write or obsesses more or even care more about male characters than you do female ones. I just ask you to think about it and be honest with yourself. Because then maybe, just maybe, next time you engage with another media, you might end up enjoying a female character much more and obsessing over them just as much.

[bibibbon]

I find Child Toya's thoughts of responsibility to be interesting.

Regarding his violent outburst, he views both him and Endeavor as responsible. Him for taking action and Endeavor for having them as successors.

Then, you have Rei's situation. Despite knowing about her parents selling her off, Toya still blames her for his suffering / birth, while the Himura don't receive as much scorn (likely due to not being present in his life).

So, child Toya thinks being a victim doesn't excuse one's actions OR inactions causing suffering. While the former is a complex debate, the latter is victim blaming. It's interest to see how child Toya can widen his scope and narrow it down to blindly degree.

I find it more interesting that when we see Touya's beliefs he is 13.

Touya is a 13 year old child with many concerning beliefs like sexist beliefs that he has which cause him to be distant and look down on fuyumi.

Like I said and I will say this again Touya's sexist beliefs most definitely came from enji and what enji would probably tell him. It's why he looks down on fuyumi and doesn't include her in conversations about them being their fathers creations because enji wanted a boy to be his masterpiece. Also children aren't born with thoughts like this sexism is learnt and in this case touya probably held on to this belief because of how much he cared and wanted his father's approval and love.

I think there is even a bit of victim blaming beliefs that he holds towards himself and others. Touya believes that everyone involved in the situation holds accountability heck even the victim holds a bit of accountability for what happend and its interesting to see where this belief that he has comes from.

Touya blames enji for creating him and discarding him as a failed creation. Touya also doesn't view his mother as completely innocent and blames her for being in the situation she is in? Or does he blame her for the lack of agency she has within the relationship? Yes, rei also did bad things like neglecting her kids but unlike enji she continually expressed regret and suffered consequences. So what does touya really blame rei for? Is this blame tied around a sexist belief? Does he blame rei for being a women in this situation or is this something else entirely?

I think it's interesting that touya is stated to blame rei in chapter 301 because we don't know what he blames her for specifically. Maybe touya blames her for everything and maybe it's just something small like her trying poorly to help him? We don't know but we can speculate.

Touya when waking up ends up blaming himself for being rude to everyone and his mother. He also kind of blames himself for not being good enough. Then again this self blame quickly grows into hatred for enji.

I think that child touya's beliefs where mainly influenced by enji. I doubt sexist beliefs and even victim blaming beliefs can thrive within the school touya went to and its even mentioned that touya was never active in school he always kept to himself and didn't have any friends meaning that the only active interactions and conversations he had were with his family which isn't a good look.

Children maybe naive but that naivety is hard to keep and shelter the moment it breaks the moment we see just how observant and cunning children can be. Heck there are various psychological studies that show children can easily pick up on little signs especially if they concern love within their home lives so touya who found out at the age of 8 about his existence in the world and purpose must of went through a rollercoaster of emotions after seeing enji replace him to find a masterpiece and he must of blamed of himself which is where we can assume that's where his victim blaming beliefs came from.

I do believe that overtime his victim blaming beliefs do become more nuanced and develop to the previous idea that being a victim doesn't excuse one's actions/inactions but i also think that even with that development there is a clear victim blaming sentiment to that belief he holds.

[sora-of-uranus]

The removal of the sexism pisses me off not because it just affects Sokkas character but because it has ruined almost every woman in the show.

Suki takes off her make up often, as if it isn't a large part of her cultural identity and personality, as if her being a kyoshi warior and her destinctly femenine clothes are something to be ashamed off or that hinders her. Because its only her that gets this treat amongst the warriors, and shes the only main kyoshi warrior for the audience.

Yue's entire character is removed. It is replaced with what I think is meant to be a sympathetic princess to the people, she joins the nans in the kitchens and make deserts for the children. Like a disney princess whose quirky and silly and held back only by her title of a princess. Gone is the battle between her desire to help and her duty to be a water tribe ideal woman. Gone is her realising that the best way to help her people is to not be an ideal woman, but to take action and to do what no one else can, to become one with the moon so that she can forever help not just her tribe but the entire world. It is depressing, it is deep, it isn't fair to her but when has the world ever been fair?

Katara aswell. Her bending is forever unlocked by men (Aang and Jet), her defiance of authority is lessened and her naievety is also changed. A lot of her motherhood role is also completlty gone since they have changed Sokkas sexism into elder brother smothering. Her fight with Paku holds a lot less significance since she has no RAGE behind her. No rage that has built for YEARS as time and time again people have said no to her face for being a woman, for being weak, for not being enough simply because of who she is. that doesn't exist for her anymore because the water tribes are just...nice. We see one bad person in the water tribe and its Hadoka and he's mean to sokka! Kataras rage comes from Paku saying no to her, and whilst thats swell, it changes her entire "I'm a master now" moment into just...lame girlbossery. Thats kinda how the entire last 2 episodes felt like for her character. A common girlboss character without the emotional depth to make it femenism.

I think my main issue is that both shows set themselves up as being femenist by nature. The og show wanted to tackle issues with sexism, using book 1 as its main demonstration with it, but the theme still follows throughout the narative. netflix's show outright said they were removing the sexist elements. When you place youself onto that pedastal, any sexist writing you have becomes emphasised.

The og show undoubtably has sexist moments! Irohs comments to June are the most obvious to me, a long with a couple comments from Zuko later on. You can certainly argue that the extreme lack of GOOD mother figures is an issue (Kat and Sokkas mother is dead, Zukos is 'dead', and Toph is awful and rather quite compared to her father). Theres other examples, although currently my brain cannot think of any since I don't often write indepth critisms.

The live actions main point of sexism is its female main characters. we literally meet Yue in the kitchen! Women can be in kitchens but that is certainly a choice! Theres this strange hatred for make up aswell, yes with Suki but also with Sokka. His war paint is removed. Its like saying make up cannot be worn by strong fighters which is rather sexist. Speaking off: not putting Sokka in the kyoshi outfit is just...dumb? If you want to show him learning the style, having him wear the outfit. Its an aspect of the style and philosophy. A man wearing make up and a skirt doesn't emasculate him yet the show makes it feel that way with the refusal to do it. "Oh but then you'd have Sokka and Suki kiss in the kyoshi outfits" who cares. "it will look like lesbians" it won't. Even if it did, who cares? you can't be 'femenist' and anti-lesbian. Putting Sokka in the Kyoshi outfit, having him respect it, is just as important as having Aang learn the other elements, or Iroh creating lightning redirection. Why? because it shows a respect of culture, and how you can blend that into your own way of thinking. It's cultural extchanged based on respect.

When you name yourself femenist, yet have explicitly sexist writing, your GOING to get dogpiled with critism based on that 'femenist' msg.

[horizon-verizon]

Is it just me or does TG's argument that Criston Cole is a victim of Rhaenyra seem like really demeaning? Like the fact that their argument hinges on the fact that Cole is played by a poc/is Dornish. Pretty much everything I've seen from them about that scene is how Rhaenyra, who is white, took advantage of a defenseless poc. It's just infantilizing him purely due to his race. I might be reading too much into it, after all every TG argument is them grasping at straws, but this one just really rubs me the wrong way.

@pessimisticpigeonsworld

"Infantilization":

over-simplifying explanations, using demeaning nicknames (e.g., "sweetheart" or "honey"), or suggesting that the infantilized person would not understand a topic without reason to treat a person as if they were a prepubescent child with no experience whatsoever in worldly matters treat (someone) as a child or in a way which denies their maturity in age or experience

Yes, it should be demeaning, but it is a way of them applying victimhood where there was none in either show or book. Its more uwuing him bec he's a man than PoC, as he's not PoC (the Dornish are "spicy" "whites" in-universe, "olive" skin is a trait many Mediterranean Europeans have). Even if he was, it'd still be more bc he's a man than bc he's PoC. to them.

They make as if Criston was totally helpless when he is both Kingsguard and a man where the girl approaching him is a girl in a court that some think she should never be heir on account of her gender, and women/girls both already have to fear their entire reputation being ruined by mere well placed rumors (and have less chance of marriage, bc marriage was the way they most likely could stay economically secure for their futures). Criston could threaten Rhaenyra quite easily to make some gains on her. Or get into an affair with her, sleep with her while she's inebriated, and threaten her and she'd be the one blamed by both her father ad larger society!

She'd be labeled the seductress largely, and Viserys would, like he did abt Daemon, that Rhaenyra's "desires" or "allowing" to have her virtue ruined even just by name and repute hurts herself & the monarchy. Viserys explicitly tells her the truth doesn't matter, only the image in epi 4. Really, the only good thing that we can draw from his image-loving self is how he decides to protect her and her kids…but even then a lot of it is also so he retains his chosen heir…and yet it's is true that he genuinely loves her and his grandkids [bk and show]. (What a mess)

So it's not really the same sort of infantilization people commit against grown women to make them seem weak and thus "need" a man to "guide" them, but closer to the sort of "infantilization" that is designed to give white women the "privilege" of being seen as the eternal victims who can do no wrong as well as masters of others' bodies (Cole can demand Rhaenyra to run off with him & abandon eveything bc she "owes" him; she can't request him to sleep with her when she teased him). And I mean that it mirrors this by the green stans' intent, not necessarily the nature of the infantilization that is not infantilization--green stans intend to make Cole seem helpless and cutely dumb in order to make Rhaenyra seem a predator and that become the lynchpin of her being bad for rulership. Bec she somehow reinforces all that classism, instead of Alicent/the greens reinforcing all that classist-sexism for personal, baselsss "revenge" and order-keeping.

It's the green stans doing something that I learned concerning peoples switching between ideas or phrases in bad faith to support another contradictory thing--something integral to bigoted talking points.

[mitziholder]

I find your thoughts on fandom interesting, and in general, I'm really glad to see more discussion of the bad shit fandom can/is doing to young women in radblr spaces. But I mean this as an honest question: Why do you consider fandom not challenging writers/readers such a problem? These aren't professional writing spaces, and the vast majority of fanfic writers don't intend to go into them. Does an artistic hobby *need* to challenge its participants to be worthwhile? I mean this all really genuinely, especially as someone who *does* work in the arts and *does* actively want work that challenges me, and has traditionally prided herself on it -- are these inherent moral goods? Am I a reasonable standard to expect of other people? Is engaging with boundary-pushing art a requirement of healthy maturity? Why? Is, say, a human rights lawyer who spends her free time watching trashy reality shows blighted, somehow, by that fact? What about a cashier who watches the same stuff because she's genuinely not interested in anything else? And, given the vast majority of readers of actual books basically read the way fanfic-only readers read -- the same genres, which use well-worn tropes -- do we think fandom is actually keeping its participants from more worthwhile experiences? (I suspect you might argue this is dumbing down the publishing industry, which I would really disagree with, as someone in publishing -- I know we can all point to Ali Hazelwood or a million YA books that advertise with tropes, but I really can't emphasize enough that this has been the case since modern publishing began, and I think pinning "so-so prose that's The Same Old Shit" on the current young female writer cohort borders on sexism, tbh.) I've been thinking about these questions a lot lately, and I just don't know the answers. My gut wants to say yes, it's good to present challenging work to people, especially women, because art is a key part of the human experience, and can effect all sorts of societal things. But also ... I know very little about the environment, including my immediate natural environment, and if I'm honest, I'm not really inclined to learn. I'm sure learning about it would effect all sorts of change in my life and concept of self. But I'm probably not going to do it because I have a limited amount of time and I'd rather give it to other things. Is that better or worse than engaging with challenging art? Is it better or worse to be me than the woman reading the same old tropey fanfic in her free time? I think what I WOULD argue is that, specifically, fandom as it is reinforces patriarchy and induces a lot self-destruction and alienation in young women, with particularly vile effects on young lesbians, autistic women, etc. But if it didn't do that....would I still have a problem with it? I don't know. But it's interesting as hell to think about, and I'd love your thoughts on it.

hello nona :-) many interesting points, much to consider

>Does an artistic hobby need to challenge its participants to be worthwhile?

no. I’m sure there are plenty of people who enjoy crochet or knitting or something like that for the sake of it or to de-stress. I’m sure there are also plenty of people who write and draw for the sake of it with little interest in grinding for improvement. that’s fine. the problem is when you have people who replace reading and personal edification with endless fluff + pointless indulgence.

reading... things... that are above your level, that actually make you think, is how you increase your vocabulary, your linguistic competence, your critical thinking skills, your ability to express yourself. difficult and complex texts present you with opportunities to broaden your perspective. they stimulate your mind, present you with new ideas; they can help you grow as a person in ways that the Same Old Shit simply won’t/can’t. it would be like benching the bar every day for 10 years straight and expecting to get stronger... I presume. I don’t lift weights.

as I said previously, I don’t think fanfic is going to destroy your brain, but if you read nothing but fanfic, that is on the same level as (or maybe worse than) reading nothing at all. of course I’m going to be critical of a community of people who humblebrag about how they can’t bring themselves to read 25 pages of literature in an academic (non yaoitastic) context.

ya ya it’s a joke they’re joking very funny, but do you see people of other creative pursuits or hobbies joking about how they can’t bring themselves to focus on a piece of actual literature or nonfiction? how they have zero interest in anything outside of anime boys kissing each other? it’s a sign of intellectual stagnation (and eventual regression imo).

I watch a lot of shitty youtube videos, but I acknowledge that they are basically a waste of my time. meanwhile you have post after post singing the praises of how culturally important and worthy of respect Our Beloved Fic Writers are in spite of the fact that their work is, by and large, completely self-indulgent shit! there’s just so much potential that isn’t being tapped into & so much complacency... it’s very frustrating to me. I find it dishonest. red white and royal blue is not going to change the world... lol

for the record, yes, you are right, lots of Real book-readers also read mostly self-indulgent shit. genre fiction is far more popular than anything else... and I don’t care for booktok either. in fairness, literary fiction isn’t always good, and I’m sure there were many women who read nothing but terrible pulp novels 70 years ago too. that doesn’t make fandom any better! not to say this is all women’s fault - I just have zero frame of reference for how “cultured” men may or may not be, and I don’t really care either way. I focus on fandom girlies because they’re what I know, & I want women to be... better, or at least more interesting. this is, of course, sexist by definition. I hold myself and other women to higher standards. I will admit to that. I’ll also admit to the fact that I do not care about men or what they are writing or reading and would not give a shit if they all became illiterate thoughtless slugs. it is what it is.

truthfully, I have no interest in moralizing any of this. I just find it depressing! it’s resulting in more and more women who cannot relate to and have zero interest in anything outside of the narrowly defined fanfic bubble - so, more and more women who can’t relate to me or what I care about. I’m selfish, and I think it’s unfortunate that there are so many young female writers clearly capable of writing something interesting who nevertheless restrict themselves to lowest common denominator coombrained garbage because it’s what’s easy and popular.

do we have a responsibility to pester random strangers about their amateur fanfic? naw. who has the time? all I know is that conversations I’ve had with my female friends about our original works or other women’s writing have been vastly more substantial and enlightening than any argument about who tops or bottoms in supernatural... imo. in my opinion

re: the environment and social responsibility, I also have no interest in debating what matters are the most important and whether you have a personal, moral obligation to educate yourself about them. I recognize that we all have a limited amount of time and energy to dedicate to something which is admittedly fairly peripheral to most people’s everyday concerns (such as... paying the bills). then again, so is almost everything.

at the end of the day, I just think it is an awful shame that some women would - and they freely admit this - rather turn their brains off and do nothing, think about nothing, read the same shit over and over, watch the same shows over and over, draw and write the same things and dynamics over and over... than do anything else. anything different or thought-provoking or uncomfortable. it is a loss for the breadth and the depth of women’s contributions to culture as well as their empathy and intellectual curiosity.

obligatory food analogy: a little bit of junk food won’t kill you, but if that’s all you’re eating, you are probably not... doing... well

and that’s not even getting into the social contagion present within fandom re:mogai, relationships, and gender identity shit (which I would say probably has a lot to do with the underdeveloped critical thinking skills and worldviews of girls who read nothing but fanfiction). I would love to come back to that at some point, but I think this post is long enough, so I’ll just put a pin in it. there’s honestly an insane amount that I have to say about common talking points regarding the value of yaoi/fanfic (in terms of how they portray Marginalized Identities and Relationships and how it supposedly helps women navigate their own trauma through a proxy or some shit like that) oh god this is a horrible run-on .... that’s all for now! send post!

[velvetvexations]

I think half of some of the issues some trans fems have with trans masc stuff is that some people find being seen as a woman to be traumatising and would rather deal with the trauma and danger of being seen as a failed man or faggot, like it's not appropriating anything it's that women find it traumatising to be seen as men and men find it traumatising to be seen as women like it's not appropriating for trans fems to find experiencing standard misogynistic sexism as affirming (which some women have found, even if they also find it upsetting or find upsetting at a later date)

a lot of it is very unhealthy though and directly leads to things like "yeah I'll believe I have power I don't have because it makes me feel more secure in my masculinity"

Velvet I hate to say it but yes they do in fact think that when men are sexually assaulted or beaten for any reason they are taking on a woman’s role in society. I’ve tried to pick apart how that narrative is just. Horrendously anti-feminist in my eyes - that’s what you think a woman’s role is/must be? holy fuck - but uh. Yeah. Yes.

TRFs will be like "my status as a woman objectively exists because Woman is an underclass in patriarchal society that I am classified under" and then you're like "so we should get minimize those classifications and drain them of meaning right" and then they suddenly go real quiet because they literally don't know how to conceptualize themselves except as someone who experiences misogyny

sad tragic terrible day: not one but two artists I had a lot of respect for decide to be a mask-off transandrophobe. sigh. at least I can always rely on you to have good takes and massive tits 🫡

my tits are huge and my love is boundless

why is it always the most insufferable people tilting at windmills. there are enough actual problems they could focus their self-righteousness on, but they'd rather imagine insane shit to attribute to other people.

scoring notes spreading malicious lies about other trans people on a dying social media site is more fun than dealing with the ongoing genocide targeting all of us

I get sooo pissed off by trfs going "listen to oppressed people about their oppression!" Because what they mean is "listen to us that this other group's oppression is Actually Our Oppression and them talking about their experiences and ppl listening to them talk about their experiences is Transmisogyny"

lmao literally

howdy velvet, here to leave a thought i had- 1 tumblr recommending me a transradfem blog in my "similar to those you follow" which was like. 3 fandom posts before it gets right into some of the nastiest overtly transandrophobic shit. and 1 tumblr stop recommending me people who dont think transmasc people are real people because i follow blogs who talk about....the opposite of that.... even if they reblog 1 (one) fandom gif. The main point is- JESUS christ do these people get really cruel about transmasc bodies like. immediately. its pivoting to calling us the c word and insulting dicks like we're all "smol beans" and its like....man. fuck is wrong with these people. why do they immediately feel entitled to shit on people's bodies?? it's just such an immediate kneejerk. total lack of consideration for other trans people's possible dysphoria and you know. just, not being a huge asshole.

I'm sorry, anon. No one should be treated like this.

You know something that really bother me is that people (who are not Ukrainian) act like basically 70 years of Ukrainian history is just a complete black hole. Was the Soviet era difficult? Of course. And bad at times? Of course. But it wasn’t literally nothing. The way these people discuss like Ukraine froze in 1930 and only started existing again in the 90s make me so uncomfortable. We weren’t “poor people starting entirely over 🥺 they are basically so far behind”. People still made things and made good memory and lived and loved and had family. It wasn’t literal misery all the time. And it really makes me uncomfortable when people act like it is, unless my whole family and bf’s family and everyone else is lying about good memories of their child hood or young adult hood I guess. It somehow is giving white savior despite most Ukrainians being white (well debatably, depending on how white you find Slavs but that is other conversation) especially when coming from Americans. Okay I guess you also must have nothing good going on ever because you are under bad government too right?

People are chronically unable to deal with other people as actual people, even when in sympathy.