#branch line society

[mistrustmusic]

Buy a CD to help save an old train!!!!

[arolesbianism]

Ok no one asked but I've been tempted to make Jackie and Olivia stalien designs since I've been working on some new icons for the eternal gales stalien kiddos and it's been making me also think abt how disastrous it would be if they were in the same stalien society that the main cast are from because dear god would they either die instantly or make things so much worse. Even if they did get lucky enough to be able to be remotely near a position to found a stalien version of gravitas, no way in hell they'd be able to get far enough to even begin their own morally corrupt downfall before one of the other big companies forcibly assimilated gravitas into their own corporations and do the same shit but way WAY worse. Even if Jackie Was in a position to eventually climb the ladder enough to get to a more ceo position shed probably end up painting a target on her back way before she could get there, as her and Olivia's whole infinite power research would be very much unwanted by most of the ceo elders. Oh and Olivia would be fucked even beyond that because she's a biologist lol so at best she's going to be forced to drop every last one of her morals and barely scrape by

[liesmyth]

With the Palleamene and Aiglemene thing. One of my friends and I theory is that both Harrows parents were gay and thats why necromantic implantation wasnt working. They, like Harrow, were too proud and paranoid to ask other houses for help and artificial wombs

They couldn't even handle missionary through a sheet because they REALLy didn't want to fuck!

jk I think the real issue was Pelleamena's inability to conceive because it's already hard for a necromancer, even harder for the children of two necromancers, which makes me wonder why the one who was a direct descendant of Anastasia between Pelleamena and Primhark didn't just... attempt at least to have a kid out of wedlock with someone else, if the only goal is to maintain the line.

I also really think it wouldn't have been an issue anywhere else but the Ninth. They're the only one of the Houses concerned with direct descent (I think the Seventh may come close but not to that level) AND Harrow's incredibly paranoid attitude about asking for help from the other Houses / the Cohort clearly must have come from somewhere. It's just how the Ninth do things. The Eight most likely have vat wombs (because the way they supposedly "breed" multiple potential cavaliers IMO points to that) and so do the Third, who are the Ninth's closest neighbours. I bet the Rev Parents considered genocide a better option than reaching out.

[robertreich]

Project 2025: The MAGA Plan to Take Your Freedom 

A second Trump term would be more dangerous than the first — in part because of something called Project 2025, a plan to extend Trump’s grip into every part of your life.

Trump’s gross incompetence in his first term wasn’t all bad. It kept some of his most extreme goals out of reach. That’s why his inner circle, including more than 20 officials from his first term, have written a step-by-step playbook to make a second term brutally efficient.

At nearly a thousand pages, it’s longer than most Stephen King novels, and a lot scarier. The Associated Press wasn’t kidding when they called it “a plan to dismantle the US government and replace it with Trump’s vision,”

Project 2025 is a road map to ban abortion, give greedy corporate oligarchs everything they want, and strip Americans of our most basic freedoms — all without needing any support from Congress.

There’s more to it than I can get into, but here are three things I want you to know.

#1 How would Project 2025 work?

Every nonpartisan government agency would be turned into an arm of the MAGA agenda.

Some of the worst things Trump reportedly tried to do as president — like having the military  shoot protesters or seize voting machines to overturn the election  — were only stopped because sensible leaders in the military or the professional civil service refused to go along with it.

In a second term, there would be no sensible leaders in the military or professional civil service because Trump would fire anyone more loyal to the Constitution than to him.

Trump started the process in October 2020 with an executive order that would have let him fire tens of thousands of civil servants and replace them with MAGA henchmen. I’m talking about traditionally non-political positions, like scientists at scientific agencies and accountants at the IRS.

Trump could not act on the executive order then because he lost the election. If he wins now, he’s pledged to pick up where he left off and go further…

TRUMP: …making every executive branch employee fireable by the President of the United States.

#2 Project 2025 is about controlling Americans’ lives & bodies

Restricting abortion is such a big part of Project 2025 that the word “abortion” appears 198 times in the plan.

Trump largely made good on his campaign promise to ban abortion.

Thanks to Trump’s Supreme Court justices, 1 in 3 American women of childbearing age live in states with abortion bans. Project 2025 would make that even worse, without needing new laws from Congress.

Page 458 of the playbook calls for a MAGA-controlled FDA to reject medical science and reverse approval of the medications used in 63% of all abortions, effectively banning them.

Page 455 plans “abortion surveillance” and the creation of a registry that could put people who cross state lines to get an abortion at risk of prosecution.

Another way around Congress is to enforce arcane laws that are still technically on the books. Page 562 plans for a MAGA-controlled Justice Department to enforce the Comstock Act of 1873, which bans the mailing of “anything designed, adapted, or intended for producing abortion.” This could be used to block the shipment of any medications or medical instruments needed for abortions.

But Project 2025’s control of American families goes even further. It plans for government agencies to define life as beginning at conception — a position at odds with the process used for in vitro fertilization.

Page 451 declares that “Families comprised of a married mother, father, and their children are the foundation of a well-ordered nation and healthy society,” thereby stigmatizing single parents, same-sex couples, unmarried coparents, and childless couples.

Project 2025 even takes a stand against adoption, declaring on p. 489 that “all children have a right to be raised by the men and women who conceived them.”

#3 Project 2025 would turn America into a police state.

Maybe you live in a blue city or state, where you think plans like arresting teachers and librarians over banned books (which is on p. 5) could never happen. Well, guess again.

Trump has said one of the big things he’d do differently in a second term is override mayors and governors to take over local law enforcement.

Page 553 lays out how to do this, and even plans for Trump’s Justice Department to prosecute district attorneys he disagrees with.

Immigration enforcement is to be conducted like a war, with the military deployed within the U.S., and millions of undocumented immigrants rounded up and placed into newly constructed holding camps. This is outlined starting on p. 139.

Members of the Project 2025 team also reportedly told the Washington Post about plans to invoke the Insurrection Act to deploy the military against anti-Trump protests.

There is much more to Project 2025. There are more than a hundred pages of anti-environmental policies that would help Trump make good on what he reportedly promised to do for oil executives if they contribute a billion dollars to his reelection. It would make drilling and mining a top national priority while killing clean energy projects, barring the EPA from regulating carbon emissions, and replacing all government climate scientists with climate deniers.

There are even cartoonishly cruel plans like slaughtering wild horses. Yes, that’s really in there on p. 528.

I thought I understood the stakes of this election, but reading this plan… Well, it gave me chills. If Trump gets the chance to put this plan into place, he will. The country it would turn America into would be hard for any of us to recognize.

[batbabydamian]

The Boy Wonder #1 by Juni Ba rambling about why every time i open this book, i stare in wonder...HAHA and ofc!! how cute Damian is!!

Juni Ba’s style is so absurdly effective in telling a fairy tale for the ages. It’s a stunning blend of simplicity and complexity I'M GRIPPING THE PAGES AGAINST MY EYES…

Before getting into the interiors, THE COVER!! It associates autumn leaves to Damian's Robin title through the iconic cape shape/color; and on top of that, for a Robin going through a big transition in his life...a season of change one might say...Juni Ba your brain...

Damian and the leaves being the only colored parts of this cover is nice in focusing on those elements, but i also like to think by not coloring the background it prepares you to expect impressive inkwork in this book.

On that note, the interiors!! Starting off with Ba's backgrounds of Gotham as it establishes the strange new world that our young hero has been thrust into:

We get a neat tracking shot following a champagne glass that gives us a glimpse of Gotham from the upper echelons to the downtrodden in "Underwell"

This opening sequence quickly lays out the environment Damian will be traveling through in this series! It also sets the tone for some silliness with the cute zoom on the champagne glass before it BOKs the robber lol. Along with Ba's inks, O'Halloran's colors makes every part of Gotham pop - especially love the golds of the higher society shifting into the blues of the underbelly!!

Besides Damian’s personal conflict, Gotham feels like its own entity that he has to contend with. The dialogue speaks for itself, but within the art as well!!

"This city of ours swallows and crushes everything it can" -> a gargoyle's beak over Damian, crowds of people, and walls of advertising

"You've seen it too...the way it coils around one's mind from below." -> bridges and a passing train on a rail viaduct towering over a civilian

"A dark voice calling as if to say..." -> literally, "FEED ME"

LOVELY SHOT OF MOVEMENT... and i love how Damian's venture into Gotham opens with him passing a tree - its branches and leaves are the most organic element on the page before getting into the gritty details of the city! Some yammering because the inks are. so cool: the delicate lines of the leaves in the tree to the thicker/bigger lined ones closer to the camera on the right; the background inks allowing space around Damian's form + the fine line of his grapple!! More O'Halloran praise - PRETTY, and love his coloring over Ba's bg lines, particularly here, keeping the leaves darker on the right.

It's not only a pretty page it's just a really clean layout!! Ba exhibits this throughout the book but i really enjoy it here - from Damian nyooming, we head into these last 3 panels. his cute lil "Robin" shape easily draws the eye to the tops of the panels as we take in Gotham's liveliness alongside the lettering/narration

and the "Robin" shape?? SO CUTE. it's instantly familiar to us as Robin!! bold outline and filled with yellow...it's a Robin in movement!!...AN AUTUMN LEAF IN THE WIND... yeah, still not over that 😭

Damian's inciting incident is introduced in the former panel with a gorgeous backdrop of Gotham in the distance (plus itty bitty Trinity cameo haha). The shot parallels!! beautifully!! in the final page!! Damian is now in the depths of Gotham, his objective out of reach. The colors are of note too, where the familiar yellows of Gotham are suddenly a startling green after the demon makes its appearance. The Gotham land looks even more unfamiliar, which prompts Damian to seek help.

Some speculation, but the green could also be associated with the more mythical side of demons and such (like the ghost?? of the thief), but it could even imply there's a connection to the Al Ghuls themselves as it's the only other time green is so prominently used.

Now that the land of Gotham is established, popping in other fav bgs!

More lovely mix of Ba's inks and O'Halloran's colors!! especially allowing some of the brush/marker strokes to show faintly as part of the twinkling sky...STUNNING!! 😭 i love this whole page but this panel gets me weepy, SMALL DAMIAN IN THE VAST UNIVERSE COMBINED WITH THIS LINE "He knew he could be great. How unfair of the world to make him feel so small." KICKS MY ASS... i need to lie down

YAPPING AT MORE WONDERFUL INKING: the suggestion of windows offscreen from the frames casting these thick lines over the walls and stairwell; the minute shadow details over the railing; the hatching on the suits in the portrait; the framed portrait being its own panel!! cute hooded Damian in the gutter space looking in on the portrait/panel!! CUTE HOODED DAMIANS!!

SPEAKING OF PANELS, along with general effectiveness and efficiency, there's more whimsy in others!! like this kickass page of Nightwing whipping his escrima from first panel -> afterimage lines going POWPOWPOW hitting demons from a distance to ones closer to the camera -> and back into his hand!! IT'S SO GOOD AND SO FUN!!

Ba's action employs more diagonal panels, and characters are less restrained within boxes - there's more energy and freedom across the page!

not necessarily focusing on the action for this one, but THE WHIMSY!! the border itself is goop!! Also gotta point out that looming hammer shape!!

Nightwing's critical hit spans the entire page!! from silhouettes of a flip -> flashy stomping pose/Clayface -> to a distant shot of Dick landing

and a smooth finisher page!! love the motion lines on Dick's arms and waist + his head and arc effects popping outside of the borders; then the smaller panels for quick activity, and the final WOOB WOOB WOOB LOL i can hear this sound effect just as much as i can see it

Along with O'Halloran on colors, Aditya Bidikar on lettering works seamlessly with Ba's vision!! The text boxes for the fairy tale narration are like strips of yellowing pages from an old storybook!! Had to look up the term for this lol, but also reminiscent of those storybooks, there's even a use of "drop caps" - the big fancy capital letter!

Smaller things of note, but the bit of "Weakness" text from Ra's has a kind of. grandiose feel to it. Then the cute B< Damian behind the window!! Love how the bubble and text are faded behind the glass too! The end of the bubble tail is a nice touch as it matches well with Ba's bg inking :0

Otherwise, it seems Ba has done a majority of the lettering - dropping a couple of my favs below!!

also just this whole page: the very loud AAAH! text draws both Damian's and the reader's attention to the panel below!! it's a cool transition to a new shot where you can see Damian's silhouette on the building! The final panel is cartoony violence off-page through the bold POW BOOM SLAM haha + DAMIAN'S LIL FIST!!🥺 and the guy's tooth RIP

Pure speculation - Juni Ba's concept art included Carrie Kelley, so i'm wondering if the hostage in the beginning could be her and we'll be returning to this moment in time by the end. The worn Robin colors are similar to the design + their head is conveniently covered.

In terms of story, I'm obviously heavily biased, but the initial read got me rolling in emotions with how it has you caring for Damian. Damian as a character is so fantastical in essence - it’s part of his individual charm in the batfam cast! an heir of two kingdoms, born and raised with great expectations suddenly thrust into an unfamiliar land. he has a sword. he has a dragon bat for a companion. he is haunted by the sins he has committed. he is two apples tall. he's truly fairytale material!!

LIKE...past the panels of only his silhouettes, this is our introductory appearances of Damian. It's laid out clearly in the narration, but this parallel is SO GOOD: from the powerful and ornate visuals of Damian and the Al Ghuls -> to a simple panel of Batman's shadow behind a boy littered in scars, stripped of his home and status

Damian is out of his element and proves himself in the way he knows how!!

just kick me down a flight of stairs why don't you. i don't know which messes me up more, the top 3 or bottom 3 panels. His facial expressions!! his expectations for approval dashed!! Damian's hand reaching for his father!! only to be left alone with the body. The page after this is the final nail in the coffin in feeling just how lost he is in the world before he acts on it. And you root for him the entire way!!😭

Despite Damian's fanciful background there's so much heart to be shown in his struggles and discoveries - and this classic form of a fairy tale lays it out so brilliantly!! It's shaping up to be an amazing balance of heavier elements and whimsy based on this first issue, and it leaves you wanting more!!

Besides being a thoroughly enjoyable read, it's inspiring work!! i've ordered Juni Ba's other books to consume more of his storytelling, and here's the ones i've found so far if you're interested in checking them out as well!!

Mobilis: My Life with Captain Nemo

Monkey Meat

Djeliya: A West African Fantasy Epic

The Unlikely Story of Felix and Macabber

okay shockingly, i didn't blab about how cute Damian is as much as i thought i would, but i think the collage at the top speaks for itself lol

this is all you need to know how cute Damian is in this!! his cheeks are so pinchable, it was done on page!! 🥺 these panels obliterate me

[alphynix]

Ninoziphius platyrostris was an early beaked whale that lived during the late Miocene (~6 million years ago) in warm coastal waters covering what is now southwestern Peru. Its ancestors appear to have branched off from all other beaked whales very early in the group's history, indicating a "ghost lineage" going back to at least 17 million years ago.

About 4.4m long (~14'5"), it was less specialized for suction feeding and deep diving than modern beaked whales. Also unlike most modern species its jaws were lined with numerous interlocking teeth, with heavy wear suggesting it may have hunted close to the seafloor, where disturbed sand and grit would have regularly ended up in its mouth along with its prey and steadily ground down its teeth during its lifetime.

Males had a pair of stout tusks at the tip of their upward-curving lower jaw, with possibly a second smaller set of tusks behind them, which were probably used for fighting each other like in modern beaked whales.

Its shallow water habitat and more abrasive diet suggest Ninoziphius' lifestyle was much more like modern dolphins than modern beaked whales, and other early beaked whales like Messapicetus similarly seem to have occupied dolphin-like ecological niches.

These dolphin-like forms disappeared around the same time that true dolphins began to diversify, possibly struggling to compete for the same food sources, while other beaked whales that had begun to specialize for deep sea diving survived and thrived. Interestingly this ecological shift seems to have happened twice, in two separate beaked whale lineages – although only one of them still survives today – with bizarre bony "internal antlers" even independently evolving in both groups.

———

NixIllustration.com | Tumblr | Patreon

References:

Bianucci, Giovanni, et al. "New beaked whales from the late Miocene of Peru and evidence for convergent evolution in stem and crown Ziphiidae (Cetacea, Odontoceti)." PeerJ 4 (2016): e2479. https://doi.org/10.7717/peerj.2479

Bianucci, Giovanni, et al. A new Late Miocene beaked whale (Cetacea, Odontoceti) from the Pisco Formation, and a revised age for the fossil Ziphiidae of Peru. Bollettino della Societa Paleontologica Italiana 63.1 (2024): 21-43. https://www.researchgate.net/publication/380459192_A_new_Late_Miocene_beaked_whale_Cetacea_Odontoceti_from_the_Pisco_Formation_and_a_revised_age_for_the_fossil_Ziphiidae_of_Peru

Gol'din, Pavel. "‘Antlers inside’: are the skull structures of beaked whales (Cetacea: Ziphiidae) used for echoic imaging and visual display?." Biological Journal of the Linnean Society 113.2 (2014): 510-515. https://doi.org/10.1111/bij.12337

Lambert, Olivier, Christian De Muizon, and Giovanni Bianucci. "The most basal beaked whale Ninoziphius platyrostris Muizon, 1983: clues on the evolutionary history of the family Ziphiidae (Cetacea: Odontoceti)." Zoological Journal of the Linnean Society 167.4 (2013): 569-598. https://doi.org/10.1111/zoj.12018

Lambert, Olivier, et al. "No deep diving: evidence of predation on epipelagic fish for a stem beaked whale from the Late Miocene of Peru." Proceedings of the Royal Society B: Biological Sciences 282.1815 (2015): 20151530. https://doi.org/10.1098/rspb.2015.1530

[dreamwritesimagines]

Garden of Secrets - Epilogue

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback and support throughout the story my darlings! I hope you enjoy the epilogue as well, ILYSM! ❤️

Warnings: Regency era society and social rules, some gender specific language and terms, mentions of sex.

Thank you to @theskytraveler for helping me with the story and the chapter!

Series Masterlist

3 YEARS LATER

“And this flower right here is called a mock orange, any idea why?”

The cheerful babbling was the only answer you got and you felt yourself smiling wide, turning to look at her better. Camellia was the cutest baby you’d ever seen and you were pretty sure it wasn’t just because she was the most perfect combination of you and Benedict. The only person in your life that remembered you as a baby was Josie, and she swore up and down that she looked more like you than Benedict but you weren’t so sure.

“Very good!” you said. “Because it looks like an orange flower!”

Camellia clapped her hands excitedly, as if congratulating herself for guessing right, kicking her legs back and forth in her high chair, accidentally dropping one of the many pencils on the table in front of her but she didn’t even notice.

“And what about this one?”

“Fwo?”

“Flower, yes,” you said, nodding fervently and she gave you a huge grin. You went to pick her up from the chair and approached the table in the middle of the huge greenhouse.

 “This is your flower my sweet, see? Middlemist Red Camellia.”

She gasped when she heard her name. “Me!”

“Mm hm, the most beautiful and precious flower in the entire world!” you said, tickling her stomach while kissing her cheeks, making her happy giggles echo in the greenhouse. You fixed her hair, still smiling bright and took a look at the paper she was drawing on before, full of different colored squiggly lines.

“Perhaps your papa is right, you are to be a big artist,” you said as you walked to the glass door. “A painter like him hm?”

“Papa!”

“And your aunt Lottie says you will be a writer and your uncle Teddy says you’ll be a sculptor…” you said as you stepped out of the greenhouse into the huge garden, the sunlight falling upon you. You grabbed the little hat by the door and placed it upon Camellia’s head while she held onto you, playing with your necklace.

“So many ideas!” you told her as you passed by the winter garden, enjoying the chirping of the birds. A couple of butterflies flew by you, no doubt because you were very close to the butterfly garden and Camellia held her breath, pointing at the blue butterfly.

“Mama!”

“I can see that my love,” you said, pressing a kiss on her small chubby hand, and walked past the orangery. “They’re very beautiful, are they not?”

She nodded fervently, making grabby hand motions as if trying to call the butterflies to her.

“Anyway, as I was saying,” you said, still walking through the main garden. “They all think like that but do you want to know what I think?”

She nodded her head again, still listening to you very intently.

“I think you might just become the biggest botanist in the world,” you whispered. “I mean it only makes sense, no? You already know so many flowers!”

Camellia pointed at the pear tree and turned to you. “Mine? Mine?”

“Let’s get you one then,” you said with a small laugh, reaching up to grab and pick the pear off the branch. You dusted it off, then gave it to Camellia who made a happy cooing sound, trying to dig into it. You raised your head to look up at the house, a warmth spreading through you as your gaze fell upon the window of Benedict’s studio, then you turned to Camellia.

“Let’s go see papa, hm?” you asked her, then made your way to the house to enter the foyer. You hummed a song and climbed up the stairs, then put Camellia down when you entered the hallway leading to Benedict’s studio.

“Go ahead.”

“Papa?” Camellia called out, running as fast as her tiny legs allowed her, reminding you of a duck. She was still holding the pear tight in her fist, and you walked right behind her to make sure you would be able to catch her if she fell. “Papa!”

You let out a laugh as you heard Benedict’s footsteps and he stepped out of the studio, his jaw dropping as he saw her and he immediately leaned down to catch her before she could smash herself against his legs.

“Oh here’s my sweet!” he said as he hoisted her up into his arms, smothering her in kisses, making her giggle happily before he turned to you, that fond look crossing his eyes, a soft smile curling his lips.

“Hello my love.”

You smiled, and stood on your tiptoes to kiss him. “Hello to you too,” you said, letting out a small laugh as he stole another kiss from you. “I figured you needed a break or so.”

“And you were right,” he said, winking at you before turning to Camellia. “How is she always right, do you know?”

Camellia offered him the pear she was holding and Benedict gasped.

“For me?”

“More like it was for her but she’s willing to share,” you said and Benedict grinned.

“Come on,” he nodded in the direction of the studio and walked inside with Camellia in his arms, and you followed them.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing,” you sang in a teasing manner, pulling the hat off Camellia’s head and Benedict shot you a mischievous look.

“Mm, what am I doing?”

“You think you can turn her into an artist if she spends enough time here.”

“I can’t help if she’s naturally talented,” Benedict defended himself. “I mean have you seen her work?”

“The…the squiggly lines?”

“The squiggly lines!” Benedict nodded, rocking Camellia. “She’s a genius artist even as a one-year-old.”

“I still support my botanist theory.”

“Maybe she’ll be both?”

“As you can see my sweet, no high expectations whatsoever,” you told Camellia who was listening to both of you as if she could understand everything you were saying.

“You can be anything you want to be,” Benedict told her as she rested her head on his shoulder, yawning. “Including an artist. Just saying.”

You walked closer to the canvas to see that the background was almost done, and tilted your head.

“What’s this going to be?”

Benedict shot you a grin and pressed his lips on top of Camellia’s hair. You checked the clock on the wall, then rang the bell.

“That one is going to be her,” Benedict said, softly rocking her and you smiled.

“Aw,” you said gently, and walked to caress her soft cheek with your finger. “Did you hear that my sweet? Your own portrait?”

Camellia sucked on her thumb, her eyes closing slowly.

“Is she sleeping?” Benedict whispered and you nodded.

“She is,” you murmured, rubbing her back and turned your head when someone knocked on the door.

“Ma’am,” Paula said. “Mr. Bridgerton. Would you like me to take her for her nap?”

“That would be good Paula, thank you.”

She smiled and took Camellia from Benedict, careful not to wake her.

“I’ll be right there,” you told her and pressed a kiss on Camellia’s head before Paula walked out of the room with her. You turned to Benedict and he entwined his fingers with yours, pulling you into his arms.

“Hey,” you said as he buried his nose into your hair. “Is everything alright?”

“Mm hm, now that you’re here.”

You smiled softly and squeezed his arm. “Are you still tense about the gala?”

He heaved a sigh and you pulled back a little to look up at him.

“Ben, that painting got auctioned and sold in two minutes because everyone was outbidding each other,” you reminded him. “People are talking about you the same way you used to talk about Gordon, everyone agrees that you’re a genius artist, the whole ton—”

“Yeah but it’s different,” he mumbled. “Tonight, it’s only friends and family.”

“Shouldn’t that be comforting?”

“Technically yes but…” he trailed off and shook his head slightly. “Never mind.”

You cupped his cheek, raising your brows. “Tell me.”

“It’s easier when it’s just strangers,” he said with a small chuckle. “Museum owners and Academy directors and such. It’s different when it’s family and friends, and I’d hate it if they thought all those other people exaggerated—”

“Everyone in the Academy and countless artists and museum owners who were on the verge of a fight to get your painting, they all exaggerated?” you asked with a small smile. “All of those people at the same time?”

Benedict thought for a moment. “When you say it like that…”

You let out a laugh and stood on your tiptoes to brush your lips against his, and he heaved a sigh when you pulled back, resting his forehead against yours, his fingers caressing the sensitive skin of your neck.

“Tonight is going to be amazing,” you assured him. “I promise you.”

He shot you a mischievous grin, then leaned down hoisted you up into his arms, making you squeal.

“Benedict!”

“There’s no harm in starting the amazing night a bit early,” he said as he carried you to the sofa and you let out a laugh.

“Scandalous behavior!” you joked and he winked at you, then leaned in to kiss you.

                                                *

Of course the night of the gala went perfectly, as you knew it would. Both your family and Benedict’s had been so excited and were very proud of him, and you could see it melted away the last insecurity that had been gnawing at him before tonight.

His speech that he dedicated the painting -and his inspiration- to you was enough to bring tears into your eyes but you managed to hide it by burying your face into his arm, earning an “aww” from the crowd. After the speech, people scattered along in the gallery to talk to each other, and if you said so yourself, everyone seemed to be having fun. Benedict was talking to Gordon, Henry, Margery and Lucy by the corner, Anthony and Lottie looked like they were in their own world while Colin kept whispering things to Penelope’s ear, making her giggle. Eloise seemed to be in a deep conversation with Simon while Daphne watched them with a small smile, and you smiled at Lady Bridgerton and Lady Danbury as Teddy wheezed past you.

“Teddy don’t run!” you called out and he stopped for a moment.

“But I’m being very careful!” he assured you and returned to chasing Hyacinth and Gregory. Your aunt held up her hands, gesturing surrender as she gave him a fond look and your uncle chuckled.

“If he changes his mind about being a sculptor…”

“He can become a professional runner,” you joked and turned to Josie and Bess.

“So yes, we’re going to Paris before the season,” you told them. “Around like a month before, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Andrew will give you a list of things to bring from there, just so you know,” Bess said said and you let out a laugh.

“I’m alright with that. Wait, where is he anyway?”

Josie cleared her throat. “I think he and Felix are in the orangery—”

“The moon garden, my love,” Bess corrected her and you raised your brows, stifling a laugh.

“Of course they are,” you muttered and heard someone calling your name. You turned your head to see who it was, then made your way to Lottie and Anthony.

“Hello you two.”

“Y/N,” she said with a huge smile, still holding Anthony’s hand. “We already said goodnight to Benedict, we didn’t want to leave before saying goodnight to you.”

You tilted your head. “You’re leaving already?” you asked. “Is everything alright? Is Edmund—”

“Oh Edmund is fine!” she assured you quickly and Anthony nodded.

“He’s probably asleep already.”

“It’s just—I tire very easily nowadays,” Lottie said, making you pull your brows together. Anthony and Lottie exchanged smiles and Lottie bounced on the balls of her feet in an excited manner, making your frown deepen for a moment before the thought dawned on you and your jaw dropped.

“Are you serious?!” you whispered and Lottie giggled, nodding fervently.

“You’re the first to know,” she whispered and you let out a laugh, then pulled her into a hug.

“Congratulations!”

“Thank you!”

“To both of you obviously—” you said with a laugh, then hugged Anthony as well, making him chuckle as he hugged you back.

“We haven’t told Benedict yet,” he told you as you pulled back. “You know with the gala and everything.”

“Oh he will be very happy for you!” you said and Lottie bit on her lip.

“I wish to be the one to tell him if that’s alright.”

“Absolutely!” you said, waving your hands. “Go on then, go home and rest. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“You’d better,” Lottie joked and squeezed your hand, then they both walked out of the gallery. You looked around, then took a step towards Eloise but someone touched the small of your back, making you look up.

“Well if it isn’t the genius artist,” you teased Benedict and he shot you a happy grin.

“Come with me?”

“As long as we’re not going to the moon garden because if I walk in on them again…” you muttered and he tilted his head.

“Hm?”

“Nothing,” you said and let him pull you out of the gallery. You both passed through the foyer and he led you outside, still holding your hand.

“Ben, where are we going?” you asked with a laugh and he stopped by the main garden, moonlight falling upon you both, showering the gardens in silver. Even though it was the thousandth time you were seeing this gorgeous view, it still managed to take your breath away.

Speaking of things that managed to take your breath away…

You looked up at Benedict, his handsome face under the moonlight, your heart skipping a beat before you giggled.

“Are we sneaking out of your own gala then?”

Benedict shot you a mischievous smile, then shook his head.

“No I merely…I wanted a moment with you,” he said. “Just you.”

You bit down on your lip as he pulled you closer, his fingers stroking over your hair. Your eyes fluttered close when he brushed his lips against yours and you smiled into the kiss, grazing your nails over the nape of his neck, making him heave a sigh.

“Congratulations Mr. Bridgerton,” you whispered. “Your gala seems to be a success.”

He smiled softly, pressing his lips on your temple. “Seems to be, Mrs. Bridgerton.”

You hummed. “Is it too early to say I told you so?”

He chuckled. “I don’t think so.”

“Well then, I told you so,” you said, sticking your nose up in the air. “And you should listen to me all the time because to be honest, so far I’ve—”

“I love you,” he said, and your eyes snapped up to his, a smile warming your face. You let out a giggle and pulled him down so that you could kiss him.

“I love you too,” you whispered and entwined your fingers with his, then took a step towards the house.

“Come on,” you said. “It is your gala my love. Let’s go and enjoy it.”

The End.

[thesweetnessofspring]

This year, I've been working on an Everlark fanfiction project called The Huntress and the Beast. This is an in-Panem AU where Prim was never reaped and Peeta became the sole victor of the 74th Games, earning the nickname "the Beast." Ostracized by society after a horrifying incident at the end of the war solidified his nickname, Peeta retreats to live on the mountainside alone. Years later, Katniss takes a position to live with Peeta and eat dinner with him each night for one year, partly to make up for the bread that saved her family and partly to escape Gale's marriage proposal. Each chapter is one month of this year, as Everlark grow together and build a home.

Or, an Everlark "Beauty and the Beast" retelling.

Leading up to the release of the first chapter, I'm going to be posting a snippet each Wednesday, one for each month of the year. Today is the first, from Chapter One: The New Year which will be out January 1, 2025.

Read the snippet below:

New trees line the walkway, still held up by stakes and twine. I can’t make out what they’re going to be when they get older with only the skinny trunks and branches balancing lines of snow. Up the pathway lies the cabin. It’s a far cry from the luxury of the Victors Village even just from the outside. There’s a porch facing west toward District 12 and a blue door the color of a starling egg against the pine boards. It’s covered in fresh snow, though as we climb higher I can see tracks leading away from it. Tracks that must belong to my new employer. At the porch, we unstrap the snowshoes and then knock on the blue door. No one answers and I think about the tracks leading away from the cabin. Peeta had no way to know we’d be showing up today. “Thom?” a man’s voice says behind us. I startle but compose myself before turning around and facing the Beast. While Peeta had never been anything remarkable in terms of his height when we were in school together, he clearly grew since then. He must be nearly a foot taller than me now and still strong and stocky. His hair has grown down to his shoulders, waves framing what has changed the most—his face. Where other men had beards and five o’clock shadows, Peeta has pink and red scars, twisting like branches of a tree across his neck, jaw, and cheeks. I try not to stare at the scars and meet his blue eyes instead. “I found you a dinner companion,” Thom says proudly. “Do you know Katniss Everdeen?” “Not well,” Peeta says and a deep feeling of shame floods me. I don’t know why. Maybe because I should have thanked him for the bread long ago, before his Games. That we should know each other better, but the fact we don’t is my fault. 

Look out for The Huntress and the Beast on January 1, 2025.

[vezpr]

corporal: ch 2 - expectations

SUKUNAxF!READER ☽☾ HEIAN ERA AU ☽☾ ONGOING SERIES ☽☾ AO3

☽☾ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: CH1: PUNISHMENT ▪︎ CH2: EXPECTATIONS

☽☾ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: You are such a menace that your father decides to offer your eternal servitude as a gift to the King of Curses.

Sukuna has not accepted such a tribute in years, more often opting to eat the young girls rather than put them to work, which is perfectly acceptable as far as your asshole dad is concerned.

Will the demon make an exception for you?

☽☾ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬/𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: 18+MINORS DNI, blood and gore, violence, abuse, true form sukuna, eventual smut (still not yet), references to cannibalism, angst, I suck at tags

☽☾ 𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @sodapop182 ; @moonchhu

☽☾ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: CH: 3.5k TOTAL: 7.7k

If you would like to be added to the taglist, please comment something to that effect. But please put an age in your bio so i don't have to block you. lmk if I'm doing this right, I'm an absolute virgin and open to suggestions. Thanks for reading. 🖤

Tearing through the woods outside of the shrine, you don't think about your sister, this time. You don't think of your father or his men, your mother, nothing. No memories, pleasant or unpleasant, swim up through the ink of night as the trees claw at your clothes and skin. Your mind is eclipsed with a fear as hot and red as the fire in your lungs.

You have not known fear like this for a long time, perhaps ever. All the running that you did from your father and his men was done more out of spite than fear. You had certain expectations of them. You were familiar with their cruelty and the limitations placed on it by society, or by your mother, perhaps. You father was not a kind man, by any means, but his eyes softened somewhat when they looked at her. The only power that you had was that of being able to put them through their paces. Here, you did not even have that. The comfort of expectations does not exist for the monster at your back, no more than the limitations of ordinary men. 

So, you run, spurred by terror long after your rapidly depleting stamina should have forced you to stop. It feels like hours have passed when you finally come to a halt, hands on your knees, panting, muscles burning. Hyperaware of every sound, every sensation, even the trickle of sweat down the line of your back is enough to raise your hackles, but there is nothing but the ragged sound of your own breathing in the stillness.

As you try to slow your respirations, you ask yourself what it is you're so afraid of. Pain? You are overly familiar with pain. Your heart gradually slows as you come to the conclusion that Sukuna can only hurt you or kill you, just like any other man. Pain you can endure. And death? Well, if you are dead, then you won't be bothered, will you? You'll just be dead. What would wound you more is humiliation. Your mouth presses into a grim line as you ponder it.

Did the bastard confiscate your things and let you go, trusting that you would meet your own end in the forest without his help? Not the worst plan, you decide, as it occurs to you, for the first time, that you really have no place to go, no plan beyond running. Beyond escape. You've never had to plan beyond that because you've always been outnumbered, overpowered and dragged back.

Does he think you will return on your own? You scoff into the darkness at the thought. I'd sooner hang myself from one of these trees, you think to yourself as you look up at the branches, silver in the Autumn starlight. Still. Quiet. Unnaturally so, as if the earth itself is holding it's breath. Hiding. 

Even before you hear it, you feel it, looming large and lethal at your back. Larger than Sukuna, even. Much larger. It shifts it's enormous weight, rustling the leaf litter. As you peer over your shoulder, your eyes widen and your heart hammers against your ribs like you never stopped running. A reptilian chittering sound blooms out of the dark: a bony whisper, a rattlesnake kind of warning. The moon outlines it's dark shape in indigo, a moving mountain that tears trees right out of the earth as it moves after you. How you didn't see or hear it before is a mystery. 

Your feet slam against the shuddering ground with the slowness of nightmares as a scream claws it's way out of your throat. You don't make it very far before a root hooks your foot and sends you sprawling. A sickening snap followed by bright sparks of pain shoot up from your wrist as you catch your fall with your hand. When you look down to see splinters of bone jutting out of a ragged wound, a hysterical sob escapes your mouth. You clutch your injured limb against your chest as your heels churn at the dirt, propelling you backwards, too slow as the monster stops short in front of you. 

It is too awful to look at, a twisted amalgamation of drooling faces and colorless eyes shining with idiot hunger as it prepares to stuff you into its many jagged mouths. You dig your chin into your shoulder, squeezing your eyes shut and baring your teeth as you feel it's hot, putrid breath against your skin. Thick, black saliva drips into the dirt between your feet and burns it like acid, white tendrils of smoke rising from the bubbling pool.

The chittering sound rises again, like a demonic chorus of cicadas. Distantly, you realize the effect is created by all of those throats babbling at once. You find yourself too breathless to scream as it's clumsy teeth try to find purchase in the flesh of your calf, only succeeding in lightly scratching and slobbering all over it. Perhaps in frustration, its crying slowly rises in pitch, high and keening.

Then, there is another, quieter sound, that cuts the wailing short. It is soft like a whip cutting through the air before it cracks, like the hiss of lightning parting the sky before the thunder of it crashing back together. Crashing like the quivering weight that descends upon your lower body as the monster inexplicably falls to pieces at your feet. You blink owlishly at the dismantled pile of flesh, hardly daring to believe that it is truly dead, even as its quivering breaths grow still.

Your legs throb under the lifeless weight of it. It is impossible to drag yourself out from under it with your one good arm, so you resort to wiggling on your back in the dirt, removing yourself inch by excruciating inch. You haven't yet had the time, nor the prescence of mind to worry about what lurking horror might have so effortlessly ended the dead thing that pins you to the dirt. That mystery is soon solved for you when a familiar voice comes out of the dark behind you.

"Tch. Pathetic."

You cease your struggles and crane your neck back, pressing the back of your head into the dirt to meet Sukuna's garnet gaze. He leans against a tree, as if he can't be bothered to hold himself up, looking only vaguely interested in the scene before him. 

"Me, pathetic?" You spit, redoubling your efforts to writhe out from under the dead thing. "Was I not easy enough to kill? You had to sic your pet on me?" The thought had only now occurred to you, that Sukuna had unleashed this thing on you, but the notion already has your blood boiling with rage.

Sukuna snorts, "Not mine." His eyes leave you in favor of examining the corpse. "Hm. A grade two, this one," he mutters.

Your eyes follow his and you notice a jagged, black fang, about the length of your outstretched hand, lying in the dirt by your hip.  Glancing back to ensure his eyes are still focused on the monster, you stretch out your good arm and wrap your fingers around it. The edges bite into your fingers, but you clutch it like a lifeline, headless of the pain. 

"Well, do you intend to finish the job, or are you just going to stand there, blabbering nonsense?" You sneer, craning your neck to look up at him. 

His eyes snap back to yours and he smirks, lazily peeling himself away from the tree and stepping towards you. "So eager to die, arent you?"

He lifts the bulk of dead flesh away from you with one hand as he hooks another into the pit of your injured arm and drags you to your feet.

Gritting your teeth, you swing your good arm, arcing your makeshift weapon to catch him in the back, but he snatches your wrist away with yet another arm. Now, you are leaning awkwardly against his chest as he supports most of your weight. You legs are not as useful as you might have hoped. They burn painfully and buckle at the knees as the blood rushes back to your cramping muscles. 

He eyes the monster's tooth in your hand with mild interest. "You want to hurt me with that?" He asks with a mean grin. "Go ahead."

With that he lets go of you and takes a step back.  You cry out in frustration as your traitorous legs buckle underneath you and you land on your knees at his feet. He throws his head back and laughs as you snarl up at him and swing your makeshift weapon at his legs, which dodge your clumsy blows effortlessly. 

"For weeks you lived in peace with me and now all these theatrics, for what reason?" He muses as he steps this way and that to avoid your rageful attacks. It doesn't take long for him to grow bored of this game, and you are taken aback when he sinks to his knees in front of you. Even so, he towers over you so that you have to hyperextend your neck to see his face. His lower set of hands snatch you up around the waist while the upper pain pin your arms to your sides. You grunt at the pain in your broken wrist, but he takes no notice.

"I asked you a question," he snarls, holding you at eye level. 

He huffs when you only writhe in his grip and scream in his face until your throat is raw and you are too breathless to continue.

"Fucking feral little rat," he mutters. "Is it because I touched your leg?" He asks, eyes dragging the length of your body. 

You scoff. Of course it wasn't just that it's...

"Are you throwing a tantrum because I didn't ask permission? Hm? And what was the plan? Where will you go?" He cuts off your thoughts by echoing your own thinking from earlier. It has you subconsciously biting into your cheek hard enough to draw blood. Infuriating.

He smirks. "Just a spoiled little princess playing at running away. Well. Time to grow up, little girl, and realize that you will always belong to a man. Before, you belonged to your bitch of a father, and now, you belong to me."

No longer able to hold in your rage you shreik and slam your head forward in an attempt to split his smirking lips. Of course, he leans away and you only succeed in tossing your hair, drawing another cackle from his mouth. 

"You want to hurt me? Try, brat," he bellows to be heard over your shreiking as he presses his forehead against yours hard enough to bruise. The moment he releases your good arm you sink the oversized canine into his temple and drag it down, flaying his cheek. A second swing and his larger, upper eye is reduced to a wobbling jelly running into the bleeding wound. Slick with gore, the tooth drops from your hand and Sukuna slams you down on your back with enough force to steal the air out of your lungs. 

Then he is folded over you, hand on your jaw tilting your gaze to his wounded face. "Look at me," he instructs and your stomach lurches as the flesh bubbles and warps. Then it is takes its old, unmarred shape, as new and smooth as ever. You stare at it, blinking as if that brief interruption of sight might return it to ruin, as it was seconds ago. As if to dispel your disbelief another of his hands grasp your broken wrist, lifting your hand so that your fingertips brush his new skin. At the same instant, your injured joint transforms the same way his wounds had until it is new and free of pain.

Speechless you stare at your hand on his cheek until you realize that he is no longer holding it there. He leans in until his lips are nearly brushing your ear. "I can touch you however I like, whenever I like," he says, slipping a hand from your waist to trace the angle of your hip bone and the curve of your outer thigh through your ruined kimono. "I can break you and mend you, break you and mend you and never, ever let you die." His hand slips from your jaw to your throat where he squeezes briefly before, suddenly, he hauls himself off of you.

"So, brat," he says, standing over you haloed in the pink light of dawn, "if you are ever so lucky as to have me touch you again, try not to overreact."

All you seem to be able to do is slide your eyes stupidly from your healed wrist to his unblemished face until all the breath decides to leave your lungs at once. The sky, blushing with dawn and tattooed with skeletal branches, fades to black.

...

Emika, grinning, face tilted toward the dappled sunlight, laughter bubbling out of her throat. It is a musical sound until it changes, distorts into a horrible chittering, vacous and reptilian. Her mouth opens, impossibly wide, a poisonous womb that delivers a wailing many-faced blackness that swallows the world. Closer, the newborn horror leans in until all you can see is a single wet, red maw screaming its hunger and eager to feed on you. It is made of hunger and fear. Its tongue lolls out and begins to twist and warp. It pales and changes shape, grows four garnet eyes, a tattooed jaw, a laughing mouth. Sukuna's face leaning close to yours. "Look at me," he says, surrounding you, a universe that leaves you no choice. He is still laughing when he tilts away, falling out of orbit as gravity pulls your back into the dirt. He is replaced by a robin's egg sky seen in patches through the green leaves of spring.

Emika's face glides into view, a smiling autumn moon in the Spring sky.

Her bamboo sword taps your neck.

"Dead," she says.

Dead like the warrior she once daydreamed of being, with a katana on her back and a pretty servant girl at her side.

"Dead." She smiles, haloed in sunlight.

Your eyes blink open. Even as the nightmare fades you realize it holds too many parallels to waking life for comfort. Finding yourself suspended above the ground in an unfamiliar position, your body jerks, your legs inadvertently tightening around Sukuna's waist. He is carrying you like a child on his hip, his lower arm hooked under your backside while his upper one supports your back. Your chin rests over his shoulder, your cheek pressed into his neck. Finding this abhorrent, you squirm weakly.

"I can walk now," you mutter, but you are so tired. Your eyelids, leaden. 

"Walking has caused you enough trouble, wouldn't you say?" He chuckles, a sound that is becoming increasingly annoying. 

In any case, the dead weight of your body against his is enough to refute your claim. 

Your eyes flutter closed, head lolling against his neck. He smells of smoke, blood and earth and he is warm against you. The effect is like a sleeping tincture.

"I want to know," you mutter against his skin as you struggle against your rapidly retreating consciousness. "I want to know what is expected of me."

You are too exhausted to think of your statement as an acquiesence, but that is what it is. Sukuna is taking you back to the shrine and you are accepting it. Perhaps that is why he laughs. Your eyes pop open at the hateful sound and you hope that he does not discern the increasing tempo of your heart with the way that your chest is pressed into him. Wouldn't want to give him the satisfaction.

"Expectations," he says. "You can't live without them, hm? How, then, would you rebel?"

You clench your teeth. He is unbearable. You hate him. God, you hate him. But you are just so tired right now.

"I have no expectations of you, rat." He continues after a pause, although he thinks to himself that you are really more of a mouse, at the moment, as you go limp again with sleep.

...

When you wake again, from a long sleep that is blessedly dreamless, there is nothing to greet you but silence and the shrinking light of early evening. You lie for a moment on the futon, staring at the dark grid of ceiling in your chambers.

Under the thinning haze of sleep that still clouds your mind, a flickering flame of rage persists. When you look down at yourself, filthy with mud, blood, and mystery secretions from whatever that thing in the forest was, it grows brighter. Cast off and forgotten like a broken doll. You flex your healed wrist. Why does it make you even angrier?

I have no expectations 

You tear off your kimono and toss it aside, fuming.

Rat.

You tear the linens, ruined by your dirtiness, off of your futon and thrust them away to join your clothing on the floor.

"Maybe I will go around naked, then," you fume, stomping towards the door, but you stop there, losing your nerve. "Bet you wouldn't expect that. Bet you would find that you have some expectations after all."

spoiled little princess

"Maybe I will go around like this is my home and you are an unwanted guest," you hiss into the silence.

time to grow up and realize you will always belong to a man

You retrieve your dirty kimono and shrug into it, gathering the fabric loosely around your chest with one hand while you rip something clean out of the wardrobe with the other. The shoji door slams against the doorframe as you storm out of the room not bothering to close it. 

now you belong to me

Uraume and Baba look up from their work, picking vegetables for dinner in the courtyard as you tear across it without sparing them a glance. You make quite a sight, blood-streaked and furious. 

"He'll be getting his kicks with that one for quite some time, I'll say... yes," Baba croaks as her milky eyes track your movements.

"Baba!" Uraume scolds.

"It's the truth," Baba crows. "It is!"

...

The steaming water of the hot spring soothes the aching muscles of your legs. This makes encroaching on his territory doubly satisfying, even if he, being a morning bather, in your limited experience - doesn't find out. You close your eyes and hold your breath, sinking to the bottom on your knees. Your fingers rake through the matted mess of your hair, breaking loose the dirt and dried blood. You stay under until your lungs burn and then burst to the surface with a sharp inhalation. 

"What the fuck do you think you are doing?"

You startle at the sound of Sukuna's voice booming over the soft gurgling of the water. He is standing at the opposite end of the spring, kimono pooled around his feet, hands frozen at his waist in the middle of loosening his hakama. 

"Whatever I want, since you have no expectations," you retort, having recovered quickly from your surprise.

He snorts. "Alright."

You glare at each other through the rising steam.

You are the first to avert your eyes when Sukuna resumes undressing, unceremoniously dropping his hakama. 

Your back is turned and you make a point of staying submerged to the shoulders as you make your way to the edge of the pool. You movements increase in urgency, heart thumping faster as you hear him splash into the water behind you. Unwilling to let him see your bare skin, you pull your clean kimono into the water and put it on while still submerged. 

When you drag yourself over the lip of the pool in your dripping robes, he is laughing. Your skin erupts in goose flesh that cannot be entirely attributed to your soaked clothes and the chill in the air. Although it pisses you off to no end, you try to at least appear unperturbed. Chin held high, you make it a point not to look at him as you march back toward the shrine, as if he is beneath your notice. You hope he feels it.

"Come here, rat." 

You pause, your back still turned to him.

"I said, come here." He repeats.

Vacillating between the desire to defy him and the desire to seem unafraid, you settle on the latter and make your way back to the water's edge. There is a deliberate slowness in your movements, to show that you are in no hurry to obey him.

Sitting on the lip of the pool, you let your calves dangle over the edge, lazily treading water. 

"What do you want?" you hiss, meeting his crimson gaze.

[anli-rambles]

No bc the 18th century assassins were actual shit and I'm not just talking about the Colonial branch, like-

The British brotherhood let a Templar GRANDMASTER run off with the son of one of their master assassins after his death and never did anything to save him. Years later that boy grows up to be a Templar, climbs up the ranks of the Order at lightning speed, and kills one of their assassin masters after stealing his hidden blade. And how do they respond to that ? They send one of their novices after him on a ship to Boston to kill him. Alone. And that novice, instead of going the assassin way and stab Haytham in the back or something, tries to defend him from getting killed by some other guys on deck before engaging him in a fucking sword fight during which he gives Haytham, A MASTER SWORDSMAN, HIS OWN GODDAMN SWORD, LIKE WHAT IN THE-

Then you have the disaster that was the Colonial Brotherhood. Achilles, the last student of Ah Tabai, goes on to do the one thing Ah Tabai spent the entirety of Black Flag warning Edward against (tampering with Isu sites) and becomes mentor to absolute psychopaths. They were working with gangs who were harassing civilians for protection money and developing chemical weapons that they planned on unleashing on entire cities, not to mention that they caused two earthquakes that killed hundreds of thousands and were going to do it a third time (and probably would never have stopped) had Shay and Haytham not intervened. Also, instead of talking shit out with an obviously traumatised Shay, they demonised him, shot him off a cliff, and left him for dead without even checking if he'd died or not - they were so bad that they made Shay, the most un-Templaresque person ever, defect to the Templars, which inevitably led to their downfall and you can't even blame the Templars for massacring all of them bc they were an absolute menace to society. Plus they were allied with the Fr*nch and it should be common knowledge that this is the worst crime one could ever commit

AND SPEAKING OF THE FRENCH ! Those bitches were also completely brain dead !! Like, they knew what happened to Haytham and how the man turned out, but they still let the Templar Grandmaster adopt Arno, the son of one of their master assassins, just like the British had done with Edward. Like, they should have known it could end in an absolute disaster. And they banished Arno, probably their most promising recruit since Charles Dorian's death, for doing his fucking job as an assassin just because he broke some rules, which is so dumb coming from people whose motto contains the lines "everything is permitted", I just- ☠️

Ratohnhaké:ton was legit the only 18th century assassin with a functioning brain cell istg

[house-of-mirrors]

Positive post: I like math, it's cool and useful! The culture of blindly hating math is a problem in an increasingly anti-intellectual society. We need some revisions to the way it's taught to make it more accessible and relevant. In fact, an entire branch of science isn't arcane devil magic!

Comment on tumblr "how dare you say we piss on the poor" dot com: you weren't talking to me but this is ableist because some people have dyscalculia

Record scratch.

Every single post I've seen about enjoying math inevitably has at least one comment like this and it entirely misses the point on multiple levels. Would you say reading and literacy is ableist because some people have dyslexia? No, so leave math alone.

Not everyone can do higher dimensional calculus, but not everyone can read middle English or carve a marble statue either. The experts in each field find great beauty in what they study. Isn't the human spirit of exploration and creativity great?

Like... I use a cane, are athletes ableist because not everyone can participate? I have food allergies, is the dairy industry ableist? Is the sun itself ableist because I get migraines? My hands shake and make it impossible to create precise lines and painful to hold an instrument for more than one minute, is the entire field of visual arts and the community around artists ableist?

The rhythms of calculus and physics are as beautiful as a symphony or a poem or a painting, get out of my house

[imfoive]

The Youngest Son - Chapter 4

Minho x Reader (fem.) Genre: non-idol au!, Suspense, Angst, Romance, Mature Warnings: mentions of drugs, cursing, murder, death, somewhat proofread WC: 5.7k A/N: I'm really wowed by how quickly I planned this out. Feedback is always welcome, enjoy! ── MASTERLIST

Synopsis: The youngest son of the Lee family was stubborn, he was arrogant, he was conniving. Hiding it all behind the mask of a calm and collected man, the youngest son was a master at mind games. Playing a dangerous game where trust is a luxury and betrayal lurks around every corner. He had sworn once, to not let family ties or any feelings hold him back. Yet, against all odds, she had him completely wrapped around her fingers, and he had no desire to break free.

Missed a chapter? - Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3

CHAPTER 4 ───────────────────

Following the death of Lee Jae, the rest of the business circle remained oblivious to the secret project that Park Hyunmin had meticulously planned for quite some time. 

Rose Enterprises. 

Park Hyunmin was still young when he returned from Australia to embark on his entrepreneurial journey. Naming the company after his late Australian mother, who had passed away during his teenage years, held deep personal significance for him. Despite that he successfully transformed the Park family, who had initially started as hotel workers in Australia, into prominent figures in the hospitality industry almost immediately, even expanding into the restaurant business. 

Hyunmin’s reputation and influence were unparalleled, any collaboration with the Park Family and Rose Enterprises promised to catapult an entrepreneur’s importance in their society. However, Park Hyunmin wasn’t seeking just any entrepreneur for this ambitious venture.

L Corporation had solidified its position as a major player in the industrial industry, with its name attached to some of the largest malls, resorts, hotels, and even bridges. They were known for their wealth, intelligence, and strategic business ordeals. They were a perfect fit for Park Hyunmin’s ambitions. However, despite their success, the director harbored reservations about trusting them completely.

Since Chairman Lee’s retirement and the subsequent takeover by his sons, there had been a noticeable shift within L Corporation. The once formidable leadership of Chairman Lee, who single-handedly managed client needs, was replaced by his less competent sons. And despite their shortcomings, they somehow managed to maintain L Corp.’s top position in the industry. 

However, the next generation, the grandchildren, was a mixed bag. Only three out of six were deemed worthy of praise. Park Hyunmin saw potential collaboration with L Corporation as both an opportunity and a risk, weighing the benefits of their established reputation against the uncertainty of their internal dynamics.

The oldest, Jungshin. He was excelling, but mostly took care of their overseas branches. 

Then came Joohyeon. He was always falling short, but still did well. He was once married to some mayor’s daughter, but even that didn’t last.

Jookshin was the only daughter of the family. She was married off early to another big name family in the medical field, she still did her part. 

Jihoon was the oddball. He was never present for anything, people sometimes forget he was also part of the family. 

Jae did somewhat of a decent job, barely hitting the line. The only time he actually hit, was women and drugs. Although he did have everyone fooled that he had changed.

Finally Minho. The youngest son.

He kept his life extremely private. He was always present, yet didn’t have any scandals to his name. It’s surprising that he was able to avoid being corrupted by the not so pretty deeds of his older brothers.

Minho was a frequent topic of conversation for Y/N. Despite being the same age, their personalities couldn't have been more different. Y/N, spirited and carefree, stood in stark contrast to Minho’s stoicism. This contrast intrigued Park Hyunmin.

As a young man, Minho often went unnoticed in rooms filled with older, more established figures. However, his capabilities became glaringly apparent during the press conference following Jae’s scandal involving drugs and an escort a few years back.

At just twenty-one, Minho had adeptly managed the fallout almost single-handedly, impressing Park Hyunmin with his poise and skill.

It dawned on Park Hyunmin then.

Lee Minho was their secret weapon in damage control. A role he seemed to excel in more with each passing challenge.

He was young enough to navigate situations with unnoticed ease, often slipping under the radar without drawing undue attention to himself. Minho maintained a reserved demeanor, always composed yet aware, easily finding solutions to various challenges and obstacles.

However, Park Hyunmin harbored a growing dissatisfaction with the amount of time his daughter spent in Minho’s company.

He noticed how Minho attempted to avoid Y/N’s advances at social gatherings, only to find himself inevitably drawn into her orbit. Despite his efforts to maintain distance, their paths seemed to cross frequently, leading to speculation and rumors about their dynamic.

The gossip mill labeled Minho as Y/N’s “boy-toy,” a rumor that had gained momentum over the past years due to their peculiar relationship. From Park Hyunmin’s perspective, there wasn’t even enough substance to define what they had as a relationship, adding to his unease about their closeness.

They were Business friends.

And everyone knew what that term meant. But he was starting to wonder if his daughter did.

A few months before the grand engagement announcement, during Park Hyunmin and his wife’s anniversary celebration, Y/N’s father had observed Minho being pulled away from a group and disappearing with Y/N onto the terrace overlooking the garden. It wasn’t an uncommon sight but it caught the father’s eye. Concerned, he found Minho later, getting some fresh air along the stairway, or so he claimed.

With a directness typical of him, the father posed a question to Minho that caught him off guard. 

   “Do you see yourself marrying my daughter?”

Minho’s bewildered expression was enough for Y/N’s father to discern that romantic interest was not the reason behind their closeness. So, he pressed further, pointing out the societal gossip surrounding them. 

   “Then what is it? Isn’t it a bit unusual for you two to always be together? People in this society talk.”

Maintaining his composure, Minho stood upright and faced Y/N’s father squarely. 

   “People in this society always talk.” He replied calmly with a polite smile.

   “Y/N and I are simply classmates who have become acquaintances. It’s difficult to find trustworthy acquaintances in our circle. We’ve known each other for years, learned together, so it’s natural for her to seek me out. That’s all.”

Park Hyunmin took a sip of his drink, adjusting his glasses, he mused. “Acquaintances, huh?”

   “Yes, acquaintances.” Minho affirmed. 

They weren’t even friends.

Y/N’s father would be lying if he said he didn’t think of proposing for Lee Minho to get engaged with his daughter, especially when considering how Minho could be an asset in dealing with L Corporation. However, the conversation he had with Minho by the stairwell weighed heavily on his mind.

Besides, pursuing an engagement with Minho would mean entering into a deal with the second son of Chairman Lee, whose capabilities fell short in Park Hyunmin’s estimation. While both brothers had their strengths and weaknesses, and claimed there was no disparity between the sub families within the Lee line, Rose Enterprises’ grand project demanded the best, and the director was inclined towards the more competent option.

Everything had seemed to be going according to his plans, until it went awry somewhere along.

With Jae’s recent death and the sudden decision to delay announcing the broken engagement, Park Hyunmin’s ambitious “Rose Garden” project had to be put on hold.

Despite the circumstances, his daughter Y/N had to maintain the facade of being Jae’s fiancée, a role she reluctantly played for the time being. Other families offered condolences and sent gifts, but beneath the surface, they were all calculating the right moment to propose alliances for the hand of the sole heiress.

In the competitive world they inhabited, Y/N’s engagement had been seen as a significant social event, marking her availability for marriage. Now, as they awaited the appropriate period of mourning to pass, other families were poised to make their moves, eager to secure advantageous unions with the prestigious Park family.

Y/N scoffs at the gift that some no-name nobody had sent her in efforts to woo her. A token of sympathy adorned with pretty flowers and hollow offers of support. The messages always carried the same undertone “if you ever needed someone to talk to” they were always ready to listen.

It’s been six months since Jae died. Initially, it was all the news would talk about for weeks on end, trying to dig deeper, trying to come up with theories of how he died.

But then someone else in high society did something stupid and the media was all over that.

Y/N’s mother was another headache, who just couldn’t catch a hint. Surprisingly her nice mother hadn’t been corrupted, even after having lived in high society for over twenty-five years, but she was easily trusting. She was a simple woman really, who Park Hyunmin had met when he was still trying to make The Rose Enterprises bigger than it was. They had risen together, but that woman didn’t change.

However, Y/N found her mother’s continuous efforts to set her up with potential suitors exasperating. These men were often charming and polite in social settings, but Y/N saw through their facade, politeness merely a pretense to curry favor. But despite Y/N’s attempts to shut down these setups, her mother persisted in her well-meaning, but misguided approach.

   “Isn’t Kim Seungmin the nice young man from the mall?” The mother read the gift card.

   “Yeah, the one whose family owns the Star Mall chain.” She retorted dryly, clearly unimpressed by her mother’s matchmaking efforts.

The mother hesitated, then suggested, “What about giving it a chance? He seemed polite and well-mannered.”

   “Really? Jae seemed like a good person too, until he attacked me in our own hotel parking lot.” Y/N countered sharply.

The mention of Jae’s actions visibly hardened her mother’s expression, acknowledging the truth in Y/N’s words even if reluctantly. It was truly a bad decision that her husband had made, blinded by ambition and the lies about Jae changing for the better.

There’s a knock on the glass door to her office, and a few seconds later Y/N’s father entered, brightening up at the sight of both ladies.

   “Ah, what are you doing here?” He asks his wife.

   “Trying to convince this one to meet someone for a blind date.”

Her father was used to her mother’s naivety, chuckling as he nodded and took a seat next to. His attention immediately drew to the colorful basket of flowers on the table. He picked up the card attached to it, glancing over its contents with curiosity.

   “You know, having the Kim’s at our side isn’t a bad idea. They’re established and even have a few more small projects planned.” Her father begins to say, glancing up at her, cautiously.

   “Just tell me if we’re already engaged. I seem to be the last one to find out about my own engagement anyway.” She muttered.

Her father glanced guiltily at her mother once before looking at her. His expression hardened.

   “If you’re waiting in hopes that Lee Minho will suddenly take an interest in you, you can forget it.”

The mention of Minho’s name brought her attention automatically to look at her father. Brows narrowed.

   “What do you mean?”

   “That young man has a clear set of goals. And you aren’t one of them.” Her father’s words were stern, warning.

Y/N blinked back, taking in his words. She bit back, jaw tightening as she frowned angrily.

Just who did he think he was to reject her? She hadn’t even confessed.

As Minho sat in his office, engrossed in his work, the door suddenly swung open and his mother sauntered in, her gaze sweeping critically around the room.

   “Love what you’ve done to the place. Very…minimalistic.” She remarked, her tone carrying a hint of judgment.

Minho stood up, setting aside his work with a slight frown.

   “What brings you here?” He asked curtly, not eager to engage in an unnecessary conversation with her.

   “That’s not of any importance to you.” She replied dismissively.

He couldn’t help but let out a sarcastic laugh, rolling his eyes in exasperation. It was clear she was here to babble nonsense, trying to get information or even a rise out of him.

   “If you’re in the mood to waste someone’s time, I’m sure father is taking his lunch break.” He retorted, starting to walk back towards his desk.

   “Y/N’s mother has been asking around for decent young men in our circle. Poor woman doesn’t realize we have no decent men in our society, bless her.” His mother continued casually, a smile playing on her lips.

She watched his stoic composure, leaning against his desk, unbothered, unsurprisingly.

   “Does Y/N know anything about it?” She continued.

He turned to face his mother, his expression guarded. She was sharp and well-educated, yet she had a penchant for gossip like any other high-society woman.

   “How would I know what Y/N is or isn’t aware of?” Minho replied coolly, sliding his hands into his pockets.

His mother shrugged nonchalantly. “Well, I assume you would, since you two are always together. Maybe she’d have mentioned it to you.”

   “Y/N and I are not close.” Minho stated firmly, turning his attention back towards his desk, his fingers idly playing with the pens lined up.

   “I have absolutely no interest in her or what she thinks. Her desperation keeps me entertained, that’s all. She’s of no importance to me.”

Just as he looked up, his expression suddenly fell, his eyes widening as they passed his mother and landed on the figure standing in the doorway.

There stood the woman who was of no importance to him.

───────────────────────

The memories of a first kiss are something that a person typically doesn’t forget. Whether it’s was a bad kiss, a fleeting peck, or a passionate embrace, the fluttering feeling in their hearts are etched into memory.

But for Y/N, her first kiss was with a complete stranger.

She dubbed him her “cross-chain kisser.” Amid the pulsing lights of the club, the only detail she could vividly recall was the silver cross pendant hanging from his neck.

Y/N had just turned nineteen, and her father had spared no expense in throwing a grand party at one of their hotels. It was his only daughter’s birthday after all. He always made a big deal out of her birthday, but this one was different. This was her first birthday back home. 

Of course for a few hours of the evening she had to act prim and proper, dressed elegantly in a shiny dress to greet her father’s guests. They all wished her for her grand day, expensive gifts lining up that seemed more intended to impress her parents than please her. She forced a smile, something she still couldn’t get used to after spending the last seven years out of the country for her academics. She felt more like a show-piece standing in between her mother and father, smiling and absolutely tired from greeting all the unfamiliar faces that came up to her. 

The Lee family arrived sometime into the party, each member eager to catch a glimpse of Y/N Park, the heiress to all of Park Hyunmin’s wealth. They showered her with the usual lines of compliments, praising her beauty and noting how she had matured into a proper young woman. That she would finally be able to help with the company and showcase her talent. They didn’t even know her well enough to know of her so-called talent. 

She was bored, she was tired.

Until Lee Minho came forward, his father and mother in front of him, the older woman’s arm was linked around her husbands. Y/N’s gaze brightened up, smiling at the familiar face, dressed impeccably well in his black formal wear and not his school uniform. Y/N’s father was surprised to see Minho, unable to recall they even had a third son. Minho greeted the man, telling him he’ll make sure to leave an impression on him so he won’t forget next time. The birthday girl couldn’t help but smile at his remark, which had made both sets of parents break into a light chuckle.

A natural charmer, that one.

She saw the quick glance he gave her while their parents engaged in conversation. She waited for him to come forward, they hadn’t gotten a chance to meet after returning back from school. It had been weeks. Much too long for Y/N, who had gotten into a habit of bothering him for the past four years. But he didn’t come forward. 

She frowned, refusing to give in and be the one to walk up to him. Y/N crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at him and not hiding her displeasure. He looked in her direction, watching as she bites the inside of her cheek, her disappointed expression not leaving her face. With a sigh, Minho slid his hands into the pockets of his slacks before finally walking towards her. Y/N couldn’t help but smirk, her head tilting cockily, silently asserting her victory to the one-sided battle she was having. He didn’t really see what was so wrong in coming up to your greet your guests, but it was her birthday party after all, and he didn’t need her complaining. Especially if her complaints reached his parents’ ears, something he didn’t need right now.

Putting on his polite smile, the kind Y/N had learned to recognize after years of observation, Minho greeted her.

   “Happy Birthday, Miss Park.” Minho’s tone dripped of formality. 

The way he addressed her had irked the heiress, as if he was putting a distance between them, emphasizing to any onlookers that they were mere acquaintances.

   “You clean up well.” She responded instead, her arms still crossed, eyes glancing over him.

He cleared his throat, muttering a low “hmm.”

   “How do I look?” Y/N inquired, lifting one side of her dress slightly to show it off.

Minho watched the fabric shimmer under the bright lights before meeting her expectant gaze. Obvious, she wanted a compliment.

   “Like a disco ball.” He coolly stated.

She rolled her eyes, expecting that sort of response from him. Instead she looked around, then stepped in closer. Her actions garner him to instinctively pull his head back stunned, watching her lean closer before glancing side-to-side, she starts speaking in a low tone. 

   “Some of the other kids and I are going clubbing later. They want to give me a big welcome back, join us.” Y/N whispered, smiling and nodding towards a group of young adults in their circle who were mingling at a nearby table.

   “Have fun.” He said instead, making her blink back a little surprised.

Minho back in Australia would have said he’d be there if she pressed. He would have ultimately agreed to go together even.

Minho back in Australia wouldn’t have called her Miss Y/N.

He nodded politely and smiled, glancing briefly at his parents who had already moved on to socialize among the other wealthy guests. With a slight smirk, Minho took a few steps backward, his gaze and smile almost taunting her, before turning and walking away. As if he had won.

He did in fact not show up that night.

Y/N even wore a black dress, slit daringly higher than appropriate, but enough to tell everyone that she was an adult. A grown woman. But he didn’t show, like he had said. 

She was upset.

More angry than upset really, not that she should have been because he had already declined the invite. His words were clear. But imagining his smug expression as he walked away earlier that evening, pissed her off even more.

The other kids kept offering shots. She downed them one after another, pretending to be a seasoned drinker while inwardly cringing at the burning sensation and bitter taste that threatened to overwhelm her, a taste she was not used to. She couldn’t let them see that, her brave face smirking confidently at every other shot and drink coming at her. 

At some point in the night, Y/N found herself on the dance floor with someone’s arm around her waist, though she couldn’t quite distinguish whose it was. The dim lights and the haze of alcohol made faces blur together. It might have been Chunyang or Chaeyoung, she couldn’t remember and didn’t really care. Everyone was starting to look the same to her.

Y/N had never gotten drunk before, she didn’t know what being drunk felt like. But if the inability to stand still and the blurry vision were any indication, she was a little more than drunk. The guy and girl in front started making out on the dance floor, something Y/N almost looked at curiously.

Something she hadn’t gotten a chance of doing yet.

She was drunk, but her brain wracked. The kids here have so much more experience. They’d down alcohol like juice, kiss and dance like experts. The academy back in Australia was much more strict, she guessed.

Suddenly, Chunyang or Chaeyoung screamed something in her ear, which made Y/N flinch. It was something about throwing up, but she couldn’t quite grasp the details. She realized soon after that the group she had arrived with had dispersed throughout the nightclub. The couple that had been dancing and kissing intimately had moved to a different part of the floor, and the girl who had been dancing closely with Y/N had disappeared. 

Squinting through the colored lights and the darkness of the dance floor, Y/N struggled to find any familiar faces. Eventually, she managed to squeeze her way off the dance floor and make her way to the bar. The bartender yelled something over the music, smiling as they handed her another birthday shot of whatever she had been downing all night.

Just as Y/N was about to bring the shot to her lips, another hand intercepted it, and he drank it without a word. Y/N watched his adams apple bob as he swallowed the drink, a silver chain glistened around his neck. Her eyes linger on the cross pendant hanging with a tinge of fascination. He almost slams the shot-glass down, bringing her back to reality.

A reality where he had drunk her birthday shot.

She frowned, her words slurred as she pointed at him.

Something along the lines of “why’d you drink my drink?”

He probably replied with “what are you gonna do about it?”

   “You’ll pay for it.” She replied defiantly, brows furrowed in anger.

Y/N grabbed his collar firmly, pulling him close, their lips meeting in a sudden and unexpected kiss. In the haze of alcohol and emotions, she couldn’t recall the exact details of the kiss. 

Did she perhaps lick his lips in a stupid attempt to reclaim her drink?

The thought made her cringe inwardly for weeks afterwards.

Or maybe it was a subconscious response to witnessing the couple on the dance floor earlier, a display of intimacy that had sparked something in her?

It was her first kiss, and her drunk mind thought kissing a stranger was a good idea!?

Another thought lingered, one that she still thought about from time to time.

Did he kiss her back?

Y/N woke up disoriented in the back of her car, immediately hit by the unpleasant sight and smell of vomit on one side of the seat. It made her gag involuntarily. Hastily fumbling with the door, she stumbled out, clutching her pounding skull in pain. Groaning loudly, she leaned against the car, trying to gather herself. The bright lights of The Rose hotel parking lot only made her headache worse.

Bits and pieces of the previous hours flashed through her mind, but the majority of it was a blur.

She was sure a designated driver service was called, dropping off what’s-her-face as well. But beyond that, the details were fuzzy. The irony of being at one of her family’s hotel did not escape her, but she was too busy staring mortified as she suddenly recalled something.

Embarrassment flooded over her as she tried to piece together the events, particularly the memory of kissing someone. Her fingers instinctively touched her lips, the sensation vivid against her fingertips. She blinked, wondering if she had truly been bold enough to act on impulse like that. Her heart beat rapidly.

A persistent thought in her mind whispered.

Call him.

Y/N didn’t even need to second guess her thoughts, she turned back to open the door, immediately backing away because of the vomit stench. She really had to do something about that. Clasping her nostrils with one hand, the other searched the back seat for her cellphone. Body half in, half out, she managed to fish it out from underneath the seat.

Her eyes hovered at his contact. It was 3:56 AM. She must be crazy. But the badgering thoughts in her mind made her heart beat faster at each passing second.

It rang, and she stood straight, foot tapping anxiously. By the sixth ring she was about to hang up, but the click on the other side made her freeze.

   “Hello?”

His voice sounded groggy, as if he’d just woken him up.

   “If you’re not gonna talk I’ll hang up.”

   “No wait!” She shouted immediately.

   “What do you want?” He muttered.

She bit her lip, nerves and a strange tingle of memory swirling within her.

   “Did you come to the club?” She asked.

There was a pause on the other end, prolonging her anxiety.

   “Do I look like the type of person to go drinking and dancing at a club?” He retorted.

She hated when he counter questioned her as a response, frustration bubbled within her.

   “Hey! Did you show up or not?!” She snapped, her patience wearing thin.

   “I didn’t.” He calmly responded.

Silence fell between them, Y/N sank back against her car, absorbing the revelation.

   “Did I kiss you?” Her voice was barely a whisper, filled with uncertainty.

   “You must’ve had a really wild night to call someone who wasn’t there at four in the morning to ask what happened.” He remarked dryly.

   “Go back to sleep, jackass.” She shot back sharply, ending the call almost immediately.

Minho sat on the edge of his bed, still dressed in outside clothes, the cross necklace dangling around his neck.

He set his phone down on the nightstand and rubbed his face with both hands, letting out a weary sigh. Hearing Y/N’s voice had brought him a sense of relief, despite the chaotic night they both had.

She seemed oblivious to what had transpired, and Minho was grateful for that.

He didn’t want her to remember.

And he would continue to deny it. He didn’t want to get entangled with her, despite his unspoken desires. Minho didn’t want to be in a mess created by her.

But he always ended up in Y/N’s messes.

As he sat there in the dim of his bedroom, thoughts circled back to that fleeting moment under the colorful lights, one that he couldn’t easily shake off. Even if he decided he would deny it ever happening. He brought his fingers to his mouth, the phantom feeling of her warm lips against his left a tingling sensation.

Did she know he kissed her back?

───────────────────────

   “I have absolutely no interest in her or what she thinks. Her desperation keeps me entertained, that’s all. She’s of no importance to me.” Minho’s words were cold.

Y/N stared at him, her hurt clearly visible. She had overheard his cruel words, which he had thought were shared in private, just between him and his mother.

The carelessness of his remark, her sudden appearance, and his fleeting remorse hung in the air.

Minho caught his mother’s glance from the corner of his eye and swiftly masked his regret, but Y/N saw the shift in his expression. His face hardening in the midst of the whirlwind of her emotions.

She looked at the older woman, who offered an awkward smile, clearly trying to pretend they hadn’t just been discussing her.

   “Y/N, dear! What brings you here?” Minho’s mother greeted warmly, her arms outstretched in a practiced show of affection.

Y/N glanced between Minho and the suddenly quiet room, then focused on his mother. 

   “I was in the area and thought I’d share some news before you heard it from someone else.” She avoided Minho’s gaze, offering a polite smile to his mother instead.

   “I’m going to New York for some time.”

Minho’s expression remained unreadable and Y/N didn’t care to decipher it this time.

His mother looked taken aback.

   “Really? Why—I mean, so suddenly?”

Y/N smiled softly and touched the mother’s hand that rested on her shoulder.

   “I just made the decision.” She attempted to keep her smiling composure.

His mother raised a brow.

   “My father and I believe I need more exposure to learn how The Rose Enterprises work. I’m going to be in charge of it one day after all.” Y/N’s forced smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, masking the tears she had been holding back.

The older woman nodded in understanding, but the tension between Y/N and Minho was heavy. She looked back at Minho, who neither smiled nor frowned. His usual stoic demeanor made her roll her eyes, expecting nothing else. The mother turned back to the young lady close to her with a grin.

   “Would you like to join me for lunch? It’s about time everyone steps out for their lunch break.” She glanced at her watch and then back at Y/N.

   “You go ahead. I have a lot of preparations to make.” Y/N said, clearly intending to speak with Minho alone.

His mother nodded and, though she didn’t look back at Minho, she had caught on. She gave a final smile as she left, clearly amused by the situation.

The door closed behind her, and the room fell into a heavy silence. Minho and Y/N stood a few feet apart, but the distance between them felt far greater all of a sudden.

   “I…” Y/N broke the silence, and Minho realized he had been holding his breath.

   “I ran here to ask you something.” She said, meeting his gaze with a mixture of confusion and pain.

The forced smile she had worn earlier was gone, replaced by the hurt she had felt from his harsh words.

   “My dad asked if I wanted to get married and take charge of his grand project, or go to New York and put his dream on hold.”

Minho’s expression hardened. He already knew what she had chosen.

   “I thought, ‘Why marry some other jackass when I already have my eyes set on one?’” Y/N laughed bitterly at her delusions, struggling to hold back her tears.

   “I’m not sure why I came here, really. I thought maybe you’d tell me not to go or you’d find some solution. You’ve always been good at that… But of course, I’ll never hear that from you. I forgot for a moment.” She couldn’t hold back the tears any longer, they began to fall freely.

Her words pierced him deeply, yet he struggled to find the right response, staring at her with an intensity he had never shown anyone before.

   “I’m glad you were entertained, Lee Minho. I’m glad that I got to hear what you really thought of me.” Her face contorted.

   “My father was right. You have clear goals, and I’m not one of them.” 

   “Y/N—” Minho began, his voice just a faltering whisper.

   “I knew you didn’t like me clinging to you. I know my behavior makes you uncomfortable sometimes. I’m even aware that I can be overbearing—But I didn’t know you hated me.” She finally broke down in a sob.

Minho felt his face flush with heat and his throat tighten painfully as Y/N’s words cut through him. Before he could gather himself, Y/N continued with words that made him stare in shock.

   “Maybe I should accept what my dad had proposed, maybe I’ll marry that stupid Kim Seungmin.” She declared, her tone resolute.

His figure stiffened at her proclamation, eyes glistening with shock.

   “Or I can just go to New York, away from you. Either way, you can rejoice. You won’t have to worry about how you can avoid me.” She muttered, her mind coming to her own unknown conclusion, expression hardening. 

Y/N took a deep breath, wiping the tears from her chin with the back of her hand.

   “I’ll hate you like you hate me.” She spat bitterly, turning away to leave.

Minho’s hand instinctively reached out to stop her, but he hesitated, paralyzed by his own conflicting emotions. 

Like a coward.

The door closes behind her with a soft click.

Outside, the desks of Minho’s team, now deserted for lunch, mocked Y/N with their vacancy. The absence of witnesses should have been a relief, shielding her from the embarrassment of leaving Minho’s office in tears. Yet, she couldn’t shake the overwhelming sense of being so alone.

Her mind was in a frenzy, her walk to the elevator felt longer than it usually took, the silence of the halls was deafening. 

How could she forget about Lee Minho?

It was a question that gnawed at her, as she struggled to comprehend when and how she had even fallen so deeply for him.

The realization cut deep.

Y/N couldn’t move on. Unable to fathom marrying anyone else while her heart still yearned for him. 

Her eyes welled up again at the thought of Minho hating her. It was obvious yet she had always ignored it. She thought even if he didn’t like her like she did him, he would’ve at least gotten used to her constantly at his side.

So used to her, that he wouldn’t be able to see a life without her in his sights. 

Pathetic.

The elevator’s ding shattered Y/N’s thoughts, abruptly pulling her back to the present moment. She looked up, hastily wiping away the traces of tears from her cheeks, suddenly aware that there might be others sharing the lift with her. But as the doors slid open to reveal an empty interior, a wave of emotion overwhelmed her.

Her lips quivered involuntarily, betraying the facade she struggled to maintain. There was no hiding her heartache now, no reason to pretend she was anything but defeated. With a heavy sigh, Y/N stepped inside the elevator, shoulders slumped with the weight of everything that just happened.

You’ll be happy right, Lee Minho? 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ to be continued.

── ask to be tagged! - @minh0scat, @qwonyoung23

[panickedscribbles]

I've heard people talk about the Themes of Across the Spiderverse, and about how "You can't have your cake and eat it too," and about how their excited to see how Miles chooses between saving his dad and being Spider-man, but I don't think that's actually the theme of the movie at all.

Miles himself says that you can have your cake and eat it too, if you have two cakes. I think a lot of people write this line off after the scene where he literally tries to bring two cakes to his dad's party and they both get ruined, but that, in my opinion, is the point. You can have two cakes, but you can't carry them alone.

Look at what happens in Mumbhatten. Pavitr tries to save his girlfriend and her father, he tries to have both cakes, and it Works! But only because Miles stepped in and helped. Or later when Miles escapes Miguel's force-field. He only manages that thanks to Hobie's advice. Or what about the end of the film when Miles is stranded in the wrong dimension, with no way to get back. The only way he'll get home in the third film is because his friends are coming to get him, who are themselves only in a position to help because Hobie provided them with Home-brewed Multiverse Watches.

That's the core theme of the film, Community; how instead of working alone and being forced to accept the most optimal compromise, we can work together and find a better path forward. That's why the Spider Society are the film's villains. Because they've built and entire secret base, full to bursting with the greatest Spider-people in existence, and yet they've sworn off helping each other.

They have super-scientists from every branch of reality in there. They have hyper-advanced technology. They have nigh-unlimited resources and manpower. And yet, none of them are trying to find a solution to the Canon Events, none of them are trying to stop these tragedies from befalling yet more spiders. They all just sit back and say "This is how it must be, and there is nothing that can be done to change it." No, actually, it's worse than just sitting there and doing nothing, they actively intervene to ensure these horrific events take place.

That's why Miles is able to evade all of them. Because, despite their numbers, none of them are working together, none of them are fighting as a team. And that's why, in Beyond the Spiderverse, Miles will get both cakes. Because he'll have a team backing him up.

[stevieschrodinger]

I really want to write this as like a fully fledged, 100k word fic, but I just do not have the time. I need to get the idea down so here it is.

So modern AU. Steve is an Alpha, always known he wanted to help people, little boy who wants to be a police officer or a firefighter, that sort of thing. Mother humors him, Dad is disinterested, both parents are hands off to the point of being borderline neglectful without actually crossing the line - the second Steve can legally get out, he goes to college. Ends up taking an interest in Omega studies, of all things - which leads neatly into the career choice that Steve didn't even know he needed.

By the time Steve is 23 he's leading his own little team under the watchful eye of his superior - Jim Hopper. They're a special branch of the FBI, geared specifically to finding and breaking up illegal Omega abduction and trade rings. Steve's good at what he does - really good - top of his class for firearms, has an affinity for the Omega he comes into contact with, and his control over his Alpha is pretty second to none. Steve can radiate comfort in the middle of a firefight if he has to - if it means keeping these people safe.

Steve sees some pretty horrible shit - he's miraculously well adjusted, goes to his mandated therapy sessions like a good boy, and gets on with Hopper surprisingly well for how surly the guy can be.

Steve's worst attribute is that he's a workaholic - he has a history of failed relationships, so he gives up entirely and has no social life to speak of.

And then Steve's out with his team - it's taken months to track this down. Steve's been supervising undercover agents, starting with a tip off about illegal drug trades that pinged Steve's radar as Omega hormones. So rather than heading in and arresting at base level, Steve, with Hopper's nod, pulls the thread.

They assumed the hormones were heat inducing - they were wrong, and what they find is horrifying. The drugs have been used on un-presented kids. Stolen kids, as young as 11, to try and force them into presenting as Omega. These kids have been abducted from everywhere, no sense to it that anyone can see - except that these kids all come from poor families. Marginalized by society - in a lot of cases, kids that haven't even been reported as missing.

To top it off - the kids are being abused. Neglected, starved, left in filthy conditions and being regularly sexually assaulted. It is by far the worst thing Steve, or even Hopper, in his long carer, has ever seen.

They go in, break up the ring, the perpetrators are either killed in the ensuing firefight or captured and brought in.

Steve sustaining only minor injuries in the altercation, continues on with his job to clear out the kids and get them to safety- in his haste to get to where the final group of kids are being held, sets off a booby trap of some sort.

Steve is badly injured- his lower left leg taking the vast majority of the damage- for the first time in his career, Steve panics. But then he has a kid with him, big brown eyes and a mop of curly hair, skin too pale and drawn, dirty fingers and bare feet. And this kid is trying to comfort Steve, obviously understanding that this is a rescue. By the time the rest of his team get to him, Steve is finding comfort in the scent of un-presented pup - the little guy curled up right against Steve.

The pup is, evidently, also finding comfort in Steve, both of them locked together, faces buried in each others scent glands.

They wont let go of each other, even in the ambulance, and it's decided pretty quickly that if they're keeping each other calm, to let them stay that way. On arrival to the hospital, they're both sedated for their own good - Steve wakes up to find he's missing his left leg from the knee down, and Hopper asleep slouched in the chair next to him.

The first thing he does is ask about the pup - Hopper tells him what he can, the kid is called Eddie, was small because he was starved and actually was thirteen years old - and he's safe and well, already reunited with his uncle.

Steve can relax. But not really. Because once his leg heals, he's in physio, and then learning to regain his mobility with a prosthetic, also dealing with the deafness the explosion left him with in his left ear, and the scarring that stretches all the way up to his left hip.

Hopper is determined not to loose Steve off his team - he basically invents a roll for him, if he wants it - Steve is too good to be wasted, so he goes back to work for Hopper in an investigative roll. He'll never work in the field again, but he becomes the brains behind a lot of successful operations.

But still, he's listless, missing the hands on aspects on his roll. He treads water for nearly two years, before he happens to have a conversation in the office break room, with one Robin Buckley.

Steve's known Robin for years, she's an Omega behaviorist, and works a lot with traumatized Omega, rehabilitating, therapy, that kind of thing. She's always been there, on the periphery of Steve's team, taking the Omega off their hands. After Steve's rescues, it's with Robin that the real work often begins. From the conversations they've had previously - Steve handing over information about conditions he'd found Omega in, likely what they've been put through, and anything else that will help Robin do her job, he's always found her sympathetic but no nonsense. He's always respected Robin.

And maybe that's why their conversation easily slips into Steve confessing his listlessness - and what prompts Robin to suggest he retrain. She's heard herself how bombproof Steve's Alpha is in the field - would he be interested in a day or two a week with her team? Positive Alpha exposure is often a vital step in the reintegration process.

Steve thinks about it. He talks about it with Hopper. Between them both, Steve figures he has nothing to loose, and Hopper agrees to release Steve a day a week to Buckley's department on a trial. Steve takes on extra training - bolstering up his Omega Studies qualifications from College. Steve loves it. it's fulfilling. It gives him the hands on aspect of his job he'd been missing.

And then Hopper lands a file on his desk - it's come to them via unorthodox means, through a local doctor, then a hospital specialist, then flagged by Buckley's team as it's an old rescue case. A closed case. And Steve opens the file to find a picture of himself, grainy, black and white, but unmistakably Steve. He's sitting on a gurney, someone desperately doing something to the mess of his leg, but in his lap, the curly haired pup he hadn't let go of that day.

The pup who, apparently had presented an Omega. Steve reads, doing the math, reading the hospital records from that day. The kid had presented basically the second he'd woken up. He'd presented, most likely, while Steve was in surgery still.

That stirs something in Steve. Something a little unfamiliar; the feeling that he hadn't been there and he should have been.

There's another picture, Edward Munson, the kids put on weight, he's grown some. Still has big brown eyes looking out of a very pretty face; and that stirs something in Steve too.

Munson basically hasn't been okay since the rescue. At first they put it down to the usual stuff, the kid had survived being abducted, drugged, sexually assaulted, physical harm, that kind of trauma can take years to work though, decades, a lifetime. But everyone is maintaining there's something a little off with this kid, something else wrong, something hindering his recovery that really shouldn't be; it's like he's mate sick.

But he doesn't have a mate.

The one time they tried to expose this kid to an Alpha, it ended so badly he became aggressive. And then someone dug deep enough to find this photo, to read this file.

Steve's standing up before Hopper gets to the end of the question, yes, he wants to see the Omega, yes, he's going to work with the Omega.

There's a frustratingly long song and dance around it - Buckley wants to follow protocol to the letter, so their first meeting is in one of the Omega work rooms, just Eddie and Steve, very calm, very controlled, with Robin and Hopper observing from the other side of a one way glass mirror.

Eddie backs away at first, is dubious of Steve, but Steve has a worn shirt with him and leaves it on a chair within reach, and once Eddie, finally scents it, he bursts into tears, "is it really you?" he sobs, and Steve confirms that it is, and Eddie is climbing into Steve's lap, still sobbing, "I thought I'd never see you again."

And they stay like that, until Robin finally breaks them up, but Eddie will not let go of Steve, not completely, and Steve doesn't want to let go of Eddie either, but he has to.

He has to make his case. He has to explain that that sixteen year old Omega, a decade Steve's junior, is without doubt Steve's mate. There's a lot of back and forth, they need the uncles blessing, which after a thirty second conversation with Eddie, Wayne doesn't hesitate.

Steve takes Eddie home, with instructions from Hopper to take all the time he needs.

This is where the real work starts, Eddie is traumatized, has been mate sick since the day he presented, and needs a hell of a lot of work. Their bond is solid, but formed in trauma, so the attachment issues become almost immediately apparent.

They put in the work - Eddie has a therapist who is not Steve, and Steve still goes to his own therapy sessions like a good boy. They deal with a lot of things, Eddie's night terrors, his awful relationship with food, his inability to settle, the panic attacks. Eddie's first heat, where nothing happens because Eddie is still terrified of sex. They work through Eddie's confused feelings; Steve falls utterly and completely in love.

Eddie slowly picks up his reading - the education he's missed - starts gently with a distance learning course. Steve goes back to work, a gentle three half days a week to start with.

They get through it all, and make a life together.

[hd-junglebook]

The Other Side

Part 1 - Word Count 2463

Crouched on her tree branch overlook, Y/N watched curiously as the group of five approached the cliff's edge. She was intrigued by these strangers, the first new people she had encountered since witnessing the ship crash.

The boy with long hair moved to grab the rope swing first but was interrupted by another wearing steampunk-looking goggles.

After a brief exchange, the long-haired boy moved back, now standing next to a pretty blonde girl. The four of them exchanged weary glances, silently communicating after they switched places.

The goggled boy backed up several paces, then sprinted forward with a leap, launching himself from the cliff. He swung out in a wide arc, whooping excitedly. At the apex of the swing, he released the rope and landed gracefully on the far ledge.

The group stood in silence watching before they erupted in shouts at the Mount Weather sign. She sat for a moment watching the pure joy of these strangers, hesitating, debating whether to reveal herself. Her curiosity was piqued, but she knew little of their motives or intentions.

The commander sent her down here to gather information with Lincoln, both splitting up as he stayed by their camp, performing a headcount.

Y/N was impressed by his bold daring. She studied the other four strangers, wondering about their origins. They appeared around her age, and wore weird clothing, the material all cobbled together. Perhaps they had banded together after some other disaster or tragedy.

Lexa wouldn’t like any of this, dread filled y/n and she reminded herself that they weren’t going to live long after she traveled back to the capital.

Lexa was stuck in the old ways, never straying from harsh and outdated rules placed by their grounder society. Not that Lexa could change anything, if she allowed these invaders to live, her people would see her as weak, and she couldn’t have that.

Y/N couldn't help but smile as she observed the scene from her hidden vantage point among the trees despite her thoughts.

In that fleeting moment, with their guard down, she saw only vibrant youth, not strangers to fear. She remained hidden for now, but hoped someday their paths might properly cross if fate worked in their favor.

But their happiness was short-lived, shattered by the sudden violence that erupted as a spear was hurled at the unsuspecting boy. His friends' screams pierced the air, echoing with terror. She quickly sprang into action, leaping down from the tree with a soft thump.

Her horse, sensing the distress, whinnied softly as she approached, offering a comforting presence in the midst of chaos. With a swift pat on his flank, both of them set off back to civilization.

With a final glance back at the scene unfolding behind her, Y/N urged her horse forward, their hooves pounding against the forest floor as they disappeared into the safety of the woods, leaving the invaders and their violence behind.

…

“Lincoln?” y/n called out, searching the brush for any sign of her friend. “Lincoln it’s me.” She continued, cupping her hands around her mouth.

There was no reply except for the sound of rustling leaves and the echo of his name. She sighed, weighing her options briefly before heading back to her horse, weaving through the twisted trunks and stomping over the bed of fallen leaves and twigs.

The sound of crunching filled the open space, quickly she grabbed her bow, notching an arrow before scanning the tree line again. Lincolns burly figure melted out from behind a massive oak, his face paint smeared haphazardly across his face from the sweat and heat.

“Lincoln!” she breathed out gratefully, loosening her grip on the bow before stepping forward to greet him. Lincoln stood before her, his calm gaze surveying her from beneath the hooded cloak draped over his shoulders. “I was starting to think you forgot I was coming.”

The barest hint of a smile played across the grounder’s lips. "I am well-versed in the ways of these woods.

It is you who makes noise like a stampeding gorilla." y/n rolled her eyes good naturedly at his teasing. “"Well? What did you see? Anything we should be concerned about?"

Lincoln's expression turned serious once more as he relayed his findings. “I counted about 100 of them. A blonde girl she’s their leader.”

After their discussion, Riss gave him a nod farewell. "I should get back before the Commander sends out a search party for me too." With that, she turned and headed back through the shadowy forest, leaving Lincoln to fade back into his camouflaged surroundings like a ghost.

Y/n strolled through the bustling streets of the capital, the cobblestones echoed with the rhythm of her determined steps.

Street vendors peddled their wares, their voices blending into a vibrant cacophony of commerce. The scent of sizzling street food tantalized her senses as she navigated her way through the throngs of people.

Approaching the imposing structure of the commander's building, she felt a surge of anticipation mingled with a hint of apprehension. "State your business," one of the guards demanded, his tone gruff.

She met his gaze with steely determination, her hand resting casually on the hilt of her hidden sword. "I seek an audience with the commander. It's a matter of utmost urgency."

The guards stationed at the entrance scrutinized her with suspicion until she presented the emblem of her authority.

The guard exchanged a wary glance with his companion before nodding reluctantly. "Very well, you may proceed."

With a satisfied smirk playing on her lips, she passed through the threshold and into the hallowed halls beyond, her gaze fixed on her objective: the commander's hall.

Her steps seemed to melt into the background noise of the bustling corridors, her presence almost unnoticed amidst the chatter. With purposeful strides, she approached the ornate door, its imposing frame a gateway to power and intrigue.

With a soft creak, the door swung open, and she stepped into the chamber, greeted by a gentle breeze that whispered through the open terrace door, ruffling her hair. "Commander," she greeted, her voice carrying respect.

Lexa, seated at the head of the room, smiled warmly, her gaze flickering with recognition. With a graceful gesture, she dismissed her companions, who filed out of the room one by one, leaving the two women alone to discuss matters of consequence.

"Ah, it's good to see you," she began, rising gracefully from her chair. The room seemed to hold its breath as she approached Lexa, her steps deliberate and purposeful.

"What brings you back so early?" Her voice was calm, but her eyes betrayed a flicker of curiosity.

As Y/N spoke, she couldn't help but notice the subtle tension that crept into the lines of Lexa's face. A furrow appeared between her brows, a silent question hanging in the air. Y/N pressed on, her own resolve mirrored in the unwavering gaze she held with Lexa.

"I spoke with Lincoln," she declared, her voice steady, each word carefully chosen. Lexa leaned forward, her expression a mix of anticipation and apprehension.

The silence stretched, broken only by the soft sound of Y/N's footsteps as she paced the room, the click of her boots echoing the rapid beat of her racing mind.

As she spoke of her findings, the space between them seemed to shrink, the distance bridged by shared secrets and unspoken truths. The dance of words and emotions played out in the quiet expanse of the room, a delicate balance of power and vulnerability.

Once she finished her account, Lexa rose from her seat. Y/N observed the subtle shift in her body language, noting the resolute set of her jaw and the firmness of her posture.

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention," Lexa said. "We must deal with these invaders if we are to protect our city from chaos."

…

Y/N rode on horseback through the lush, green woods, the earthy scent of pine filled her nostrils, mingling with the sweet fragrance of wildflowers.

The sunlight filtered through the forest canopy above, casting a warm, golden glow upon the trail as she journeyed down familiar paths - passing by small villages nestled amongst the trees.

She couldn't help but smile as she passed by, exchanging friendly nods with the villagers who went about their daily tasks. Y/n had been away from home for some time and was eager to return.

The steady clop of hooves marked the miles melting away as the trees thinned. She spotted her modest log cabin in the distance, its weathered exterior a welcoming sight against the backdrop of the forest.

Reaching the edge of the property, y/n hopped down from her steed, her boots sinking into the soft earth beneath her feet. With a gentle pat on her horse's neck, she released him to graze freely, knowing he would find his way back to the stable when he was ready.

Y/N took a moment to close her eyes and breathe deeply, cherishing the scent of pine and wildflowers. It was good to be back. She hitched up her pack and strode towards the front door, the familiar scent of aged wood enveloped her, a comforting embrace that welcomed her home.

Setting her pack aside, she moved with purpose to the corner where her woodworking bench stood. With practiced hands, she began to carve arrows, the rhythmic scrape of the blade against wood echoing in the cozy confines of the cabin.

the moonlight filtering through the canopy above cast eerie shadows on the forest floor. The night was still. Heading out into the night to gather firewood had become a routine for Y/N, a solitary task that allowed her moments of quiet reflection amidst the whispering trees. Tonight, however, a feeling that prickled at the back of her neck as she navigated the winding path.

y/n began to gather the fallen branches, a sudden sound shattered the silence. The unmistakable sound of running feet echoed through the trees, sending a shiver down Y/N's spine. Instinctively, she dropped the firewood and reached for the dagger she always kept strapped to her side.

Moving cautiously towards the source of the noise, Y/N's senses heightened, every rustle and snap of a twig magnified in the stillness of the night.

Y/n's heart pounded in her chest as she approached a clearing, the moonlight revealing a figure hunched over, gasping for breath against a gnarled tree trunk.

Drawing closer, Y/N's eyes widened in surprise as she recognized the figure of a boy, his face contorted in pain and exhaustion. His clothes were torn and dirt-streaked, his hands clutching at the rough bark for support.

"Who are you?" Y/N's voice cut through the night, a mixture of concern and caution lacing her words. The boy looked up, his eyes wide with fear and desperation, a silent plea for help etched in his gaze.

Her body subtly leaned forward, indicating her readiness to assist if needed, while her hands hovered near her sides, poised to react to any sudden movements.

The moonlight bathed them in its silvery glow, Y/N and the mysterious boy stood facing each other in the heart of the forest, the boy steadied himself, before sucking in a breath and speaking.

"I could ask you the same thing.” He replied, the boy's voice was deep and raspy, his words were slow and deliberate, as if he was rehearsing a speech.

Their gaze locked in a silent standoff, a sudden eruption of yells in the trig language pierced the stillness of the woods. Y/N huffed, a hint of sarcasm coloring her tone. "Those your friends?" she quipped, a wry smile tugging at the corners of her lips. John shook his head.  

Undeterred, Y/N pressed on, her voice firm yet tinged with intrigue, the trees towered above her, their branches creaking ominously in the gentle breeze.

"Who are you?" she asked, her curiosity driving her forward. The rustling leaves and distant echoes of the forest seemed to hold their breath, waiting for John's response.

After a moment of hesitation, John relented. "My name is John," he admitted. His voice was calm now, yet his eyes were a little wild. He looked like the man who had been on the verge of being killed, his head bowed in prayer.

"I can help you, John," she said, Y/n felt a shiver run down her spine as she looked into John's eyes. They were deep and piercing, like two black holes that seemed to suck her in. She couldn't look away, even though she knew she should.

John hesitated, unsure if he could trust her. But the thought of surviving in this harsh new world was too tempting to resist. "Okay," he said, his eyes darting between y/n and the area where the voices came from.

"I'll follow you." He approached her cautiously, keeping a safe distance. Y/n nodded, a look of satisfaction on her face. "Good," she said. "Let’s go."

…

Y/N and Murphy made their way back to her cabin, the shadows of the forest casting long, eerie shapes on the path ahead. "I need you to help me gather resources," she said.

"Food, water, weapons. Whatever I need to keep me alive. And in return, I will keep you safe from my people." She stated, looking back at Murphy as she climbed the steps to her door.

John nodded, his heart racing but he knew he had no choice. "Yes," he said, his voice firm. "I'll do it. Whatever it takes." Y/n could tell he wasn’t sure about his own agreement but kept walking anyway, opening the rusty door and entering.

Murphy hesitated at the threshold, his eyes scanning the surroundings warily, a flicker of fear betraying his tough exterior.

Y/N chuckled softly, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes. "Come on, it's not a trap," she reassured him, her voice warm and inviting. Murphy stepped inside, the cozy interior of the cabin enveloping him in a sense of unexpected comfort.

The aroma of cooking rabbit wafted through the air, a tantalizing scent that stirred memories of simpler times with her family. Y/N moved with practiced ease around the small kitchen, spooning steaming stew into an old wooden bowl before handing it to Murphy.

He accepted the bowl gratefully, the hunger evident in the way he practically inhaled the hearty meal. Y/N watched him silently, her gaze lingering on his worn appearance and the shadows that clouded his eyes.

"What happened to you, John?" she asked, her voice soft yet probing. The question hung in the air, laden with unspoken implications.

Murphy paused, setting down the bowl with a nonchalant shrug. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you.” he replied through gritted teeth. “Let's just say I've had better days."

…

[redishflavor]

if you saw the other one no you didn't

someone's John dory ask got eaten and I can't find my previous draft on it 😔

A/N -> I'll be starting school soon again so I won't be able to write as many fanfics as right now, but still send it requests! I just won't be able to publish them as fast as before 😅

but anyways (this is way longer than my last one damn)

John dory x reader headcanons

okay let's get one thing straight

this man has been in the wild for over idk how many years

he probably is secretly touch starved

and he's probably really bad at flirting

let's say this is after the events of TBT, so he's back in society again (probably)

hes bumped into you a few times and during those few times it was just some small talk here and there

but then when he bumped into you again he decided to flirt

with a terrible pick up line

after he said that he gave a look that was like "Yep, still got it"

he does not got it

you just looked at him, looked away and snorted

he thinks it's working

it might be

without him asking, you gave him your number on a peice of paper

there was a small not under the number (yall choose idk what to put) with a small heart at the end

(ur stinky but funny ❤️) (I sorry I had to😭😭)

he didn't read the note, he js put it on his wall in a frame

he was the first to text you

just a simple "Hi this is John dory"

and you know how some people type something but not send it?

he did that

"PLEASE PLEASE DATE ME 🙏🙏" then he deleted it to respond 'normally' to your text

after a few weeks of talking to each other you were the first to ask if he wanted to go on a date

he probably has never responded so fast to someone on his life

I js had to add this but he probably lost his other glove bc Rhonda ate it

anyways back on track

the first date you two went on was at a small Cafe (idk I panicked😭)

you two talked about a hunch of stuff but then settled on the topic of bands

one of your favorite band was BroZone

his eyes visibly lit up at the word BroZone

asks a bunch on questions like "who's your favorite band member" or "what's you favorite song"

takes his SWEET TIME telling you he's THE John Dory from BroZone

so many questions from both him and you

but after that date he offers to walk you home

and that's also how he got your address

a few more dates later he's the one to make the first move

a small text saying to meet him up at the Cafe they had their first date in

hes already there looking a bit flustered

after you two sit down he asks if you want to date

and that's how yall start dating (I am so sleepy rn guys)

every now and then he would send small gifts to you like flowers, candies, anything that reminds him of you at almost any store he goes to

he likes compliments, both giving and receiving them

when he's spending the day at your place he likes to cuddle with you

or hold you in any way

hug, hand holding, any touch basically

LOVES when you kiss him

like pepper him with kisses and he's melting

grab a bucket and mop he's gone

when he first introduced you to his brothers they had many questions

when Poppy met you (probably through Branch)

you two both bonded over dating a member of brozone

as you and Poppy were fangirling over them JD just looked at you lovingly

like he almost forgot his brothers were there

he loves you too much

he also gets you free tickets and backstage passes to every single one of BroZone's concerts

you've never missed a single concert

and you have way to much merch (mostly JD's merch) (and it's signed with his signature)

I think I might end it here bc I'm running out of ideas and any longer to post this would end up taking longer to post because school starts in like 2 says for me 😭😭 anyways I hope this was good for whoever asked this and again so sorry I lost your ask! I hope you have a great day/night!!