#currently it looks like the house is from the wrong century and the wrong country but well

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Best and Worst of Both Worlds (part 11)

Tw: reader got sick again lol this time to the ER, mentions of violence, kidnapping sequence, queerphobia from Monty

Damn guys i was expecting the other options to win but most of u guys wanted back to the university??

Vote down below guys, will start making the next chapter after 20 votes

Part 12

You decided to head to your university. They don't skimp on their snack budget, hence they provide the best snacks. You took the medicine that Yves paid for you before leaving the house.

Halfway through the bus ride though, you're starting to regret your choice. Your head and shoulders became extremely heavy and you feel like crap.

But it's too late to turn back now. The next bus is in an hour.

You stumbled out of the bus and rubbed your eyes. Yawning and scratching your back.

Bleary eyed, you started walking away from the station. Feeling like you're forgetting something, but you shrug it off. Thinking it should be in your bag.

Except, you didn't have your bag.

You gasped when you realized that you're not carrying anything behind you. But then relief washed over you when you realized that it's at home and not on the bus that's disappearing on the horizon. Then, that also means you left the door unlocked.

You sighed, sticking your hand in your pocket, planning to tell your housemates about it.

You pulled out a rectangular device and tried unlocking the screen.

Except there was no screen. Because it's not a smartphone, it's a power Bank.

That's right, Yves gave you his power bank to use indefinitely. You were charging it right next to your phone... what is wrong with you?

You groan, oh this is bad.

It's the 21st century, memorizing phone numbers is not the trend, you don't know what number to call aside from emergency services or your own. Maybe you remembered the numbers of your parents, but they're in another country. What could they do?

You took a deep breath. This is fine, you're in the university not some sketchy alleyway. You know the schedule of the next bus and if there's an emergency, you could just use a payphone to dial 911.

You have some cash on you and that's fine. You'll live, it's enough to pay for your bus fare.

So you walked, in a zombie-like way. You should have just rotted in bed, scrolling through your social media and burning your phone credits. But no, you just had to leave the house.

At least the weather is cool and the air is fresh. You continued walking, finally reaching past the entrance.

Everything feels severely foggy. You couldn't think straight, there were a couple times where you would stand in front of a potted plant and stare at it for minutes. Then you would snap yourself out of it and walk away. God knows what medication it was, you just took it as per the pharmacist's instructions. You're sure it's playing a part in your current incapable state.

You rubbed your eyes and whined. Pacing around, finding a hard time to figure out what to do. Your head hurts and your entire body isn't cooperating with what your brain is signalling. Your brain isn't even working with you.

What did you just eat? Did you accidentally poison yourself with the wrong pills?

Through your bleary eyes, you spotted a tall figure jogging up to you. But your lowered inhibitions prevented you from feeling alarmed, you just want to rest at home.

"Hey, hey, stop that." You felt someone gently grabbing your wrists, stopping you from rubbing your now red eyes. "Are you alright?"

It's Montgomery. He's kneeling to your level and staring deep into your eyes, his massive hands holding your head in place as he inspect you.

"What's up with you?" He asked, you're still processing what, or who, you're looking at.

"Damn, what did he do to you? You're all drugged up!" He scrambled to get back up on his feet. "C'mon, sweetheart. Let's get you to a doctor."

Confused and afraid, you tried protesting but Montgomery ended up carrying you bridal-style. You tried screaming for help, but he hushed you.

"Shh... it's okay, it's okay. I'm not gonna drop ya'. You're as light as a feather!" He cooed. "I got ya', you don't have to worry 'bout a thing, I'll take care of you, I'll save ya' from that bastard."

He stuffed you into his back seat, laying you down on your back. You shrieked when he climbed atop and straddled your hips, but he's only doing that to fluff the pillow under your head. The man got off and tucked you under his blanket, he then secured you with both seatbelts so you wouldn't roll off when he drives.

"Bend your knees for me, darlin'. I can't shut the door with your legs juttin' out!"

You refused and kept screaming, hoping that someone could help you. Which made Montgomery uncomfortable, not because he thinks you're scared of him, because he thinks you're in pain.

"Shh... I know, I know. I'll make it all better. I promise, you just have to hold out for a little longer, okay?" He gripped onto your calves and pushed them into the car. Immediately after, he shut the car door and dashed to the driver's seat.

You tried unbuckling yourself and unlocking the door, but you're at a severe disadvantage since you're still severely disorientated. You gave up when the car started speeding away from the venue.

Through your haziness, you managed to ask why he's in the university.

"I was hopin' to find ya', and I did. You're lucky I spotted you before some other creeps did! They'd snatch you right up and you couldn't fight back 'cause you're all doped up!"

It's unbelievable that he didn't realize that he was describing himself.

You asked how he knew to find you at six in the morning.

"Well, I remember when I had to go to school. I had classes at 7AM, my folks came an hour early while I came an hour late. 'Cause I was helping out with the farm. I don't reckon you have a farm to help out on. Do ya?" Such solid reasoning comes from the maniac himself.

You asked him what happened yesterday after he was escorted out, not realizing that he would take your curiosity as a concern for his wellbeing, and hence another declaration of your love.

"Aww is someone worried about me? I'm fine, that fucking queer roughed me up a lil'. But he played dirty, bet that asshole won't have the balls to get in a fair fight with me. Bless your heart for witnessing all the ugly. But I'm here now, I'll keep you safe from that monster. What did he do to ya'?"

You wanted to tell him that Yves is your boyfriend and Montgomery is the monster in your eyes. But immediately zipped your mouth closed because you're unsure as to how he is going to react to that, you can't take him on normally, let alone sick and potentially drugged.

"Sweetheart?" He glanced at you through his rearview mirror. You tried speaking, but you found that your tongue was too swollen for you to say anything. Drool dribbled down your chin as you found it increasingly harder to breathe.

"What the fuck..." He muttered under his breath before switching up his tone to calm you down. "I-it's fine! It's gonna be okay, baby. Just... think of the Lord. He'll get us through this!" You heard the whirring of his engine grow louder as he floored the gas pedal.

You wish Yves is here. He would have known what to do.

__

You took the biggest gasp of your life, greedily sucking in the air as it rushes into your lungs. You winced as the searing light stabbed your strained eyes, and sounds of people chattering, beeping, and rushing reached your ears. Coldness nipped at your skin and you felt something attached to your face. The air smelled of iodoform, and you coughed and hacked as everything was overwhelming you.

Finally, you managed to focus and process where you are.

"Mx Joe?"

Who?

"Mx Joe, can you hear me?" You turned your head to the side, the pillow slightly blocking your view. You saw a woman in scrubs and a pair of gloves, next to her were other nurses rushing the code cart to other patients in the room.

You looked at the rubber oxygen mask strapped to your face. Your thigh felt sore and tender, and then you realized why when you saw another nurse nearby holding an empty syringe.

The woman began introducing herself as a medical resident, you didn't pay attention when she told you her name. Soon after, she began explaining how you got here.

She said that your partner brought you in; unconscious, swollen as if you were stung by an army of bees and unable to breathe. You had an allergic reaction to something you consumed, inhaled, or touched. She asked if you ate anything you suspected could be the culprit a few hours ago.

The pill. You must be allergic to the medication.

You and she went back and forth, answering all the relevant questions she asked you. This time you told her your real name and true details. All she did was note it down in her clipboard without asking further questions as to why Montgomery gave her a fake name.

She did a couple more tests to make sure you didn't suffer from other complications. Once she deemed you healthy enough, she sent you on your way to be discharged, the ER is too busy for you to linger there any longer than necessary.

Another nurse wheelchaired you out of the Emergency department and into the waiting room, where Montgomery was there nervously fiddling with his hands while waiting for you.

"Joe!" He exclaimed before running towards you. "God, I was so damn worried! What the hell happened to them?" Montgomery asked the nurse, his hands squished your face into a compressed chunk.

You were reminded once again, Yves's soft touches are superior.

"They had an allergic reaction to a drug prescribed to treat their nausea. They're fine." The nurse turned to you. "Get some rest and drink enough fluids. You're going to feel tired, but that is to be expected. Any questions?"

You looked at Montgomery and he stared at you back.

You were contemplating whether you should scream for help. But... if it wasn't for him, you would be dead. If the police are involved, he will surely go to jail this time. And, you don't exactly feel comfortable ruining his life after he saved yours.

He's mentally deranged, but so far you think he wouldn't cause too much harm to you.

You slowly shook your head and prayed that you wouldn't regret your decision to not snitch on him.

"Alright. That will be all." The nurse told Montgomery the directions to the payment counters.

He began pushing you in your wheelchair with him.

"What a week, huh?" He tried to lighten the mood, but you're as somber as ever. Badly yearning for your phone and Yves's wallet, this is going to be a death sentence for your wallet.

You're dreading your turn. This is not going to end well for you, you can't call anyone aside from your parents who are on another continent. You wished that you memorized Yves's number.

When your name is called, Montgomery didn't react. It was called the second time, and you hesitantly brought your hands to the wheels. He grabbed your wrist.

"Hey, whatcha' doing?"

The receptionist called your name again. You sighed, coming clean that your name isn't Joe M. To your surprise, he wasn't shocked or upset, all he did was stand up and walk towards the counter.

You stretched your neck, trying to gain vantage over the sea of sick people. Montgomery took out a tattered, leather wallet from the back pocket of his work pants. You saw his eye widen momentarily and he seemed to be arguing with the receptionist about something. In the end, he swiped his slightly chipped debit card on the machine. He looked uneasy as he keyed in his PIN number on the card reader.

He collected the receipt before stuffing it into his wallet. Montgomery walked back with a bittersweet smile.

You asked him how much it was.

"Don't worry about it, honey. I'm just glad yer' fine."

You said that he didn't have to pay for you. You could do it yourself.

"Oh yeah? You and with what money? You shouldn't be thinkin' 'bout money troubles at this age. You should be focusin' on gettin' that degree!" He laughed, ruffling your hair. "Any respectable boyfriend would pay for his partner's bills!"

You told him that he isn't your boyfriend.

"Sure, sweetheart." He dismissed you as he grabbed the handles of your wheelchair. You stopped him and said you could walk. Before he could react to that, you used all your might to stand up, mildly stumbling around a bit before finding your balance. He stuck his arms around you, ready to catch if you were to fall.

"Y'know, you shouldn't push yourself too hard. I'm pretty sure the hospital is gonna let us borrow this till' the exit." You began walking away. More like limping.

"H-hey! Wait up!" He jogged to catch up with you.

He wrapped his arm around your waist and urged you in another direction.

"I parked this way, c'mon." He rested his hand on the small of your back. It's a little too far down for comfort and you didn't like how he would rub you.

__

His idea of "sick people's food" is something people eat to get sick.

But you're starving at this point, so you're scarfing down an English muffin breakfast sandwich. Letting the grease coat your fingers and the yolk covers your face, it's a messy ordeal.

"I gotta bring you out to eat more..." Mumbled Montgomery as he watched you devour two of the same sandwiches. He developed a newfound distaste for Yves on top of his strong, existing ones. Montgomery is disgusted that Yves didn't even have the decency to feed "his love". What kind of man let's his beloved starve like this? Definitely not Montgomery.

He only got three bites in and you're now stealing his hash browns. You don't know where you are, this was the first time visiting the hospital. All you know is that he's currently parked in a fast food joint's free parking lot.

It's a seven-minute drive from the hospital. You looked at the built-in clock on his radio.

10:59AM. You have an hour left to get home before Yves arrives and potentially causes a catastrophe.

"So... (name)." You watched him from the corner of your eyes. "What was up with Joe M.?"

You gulped. You said it was an inside joke.

"Well, what is it?" You told him it would ruin the joke.

"Keep your secrets then." He took another bite out of his meal.

You and he ate in silence, mostly him. You were somewhat noisy because you didn't bother closing your mouth when chewing.

"Relax, it's not gonna run away." He chuckled as you stuffed your face with more of the sandwich. Montgomery bought 6 in total, expecting to eat 4 of them. But in reality, he only got to eat 2.

"Y'know, you don't have to do all that for money." You looked at him, waiting for him to elaborate on what he meant.

"I know those wealthy bastards, they go after pretty young things like you and suck your youth from ya' like vampires. It ain't worth it."

You forced a giant chunk of unchewed food down your throat.

"H-hey don't do that! You're gonna choke!" He patted your back as you coughed.

You asked in between hacks if he's talking about Yves.

"Is that what his name is? But yeah, I'm talkin' about him."

You asked him if he thinks you're prostituting yourself.

"No! I- I mean- I don't know, I was thinkin' more of the sugar baby line of work. It ain't necessarily mean you gotta be bumpin' uglies in the bedroom- you don't seem like the type. But I sure do know he ain't got ya best interests at heart." He explained.

You brought your arm up to wipe your mouth with your sleeve. But This time, he was prepared. He held your arm and pushed a napkin to your chin. He took the liberty to clean your face up for you.

You definitely preferred Yves's gentle touch over Montgomery's brutish ones.

"He ain't good for you, (name). Trust me on this." You tried to pull away from his rigorous wiping, but he held your head in place with the other hand.

"Folks from back home were deceived by men like these. They come to the city lookin' to build a better future. Then a wealthy man came along, makin' promises that he can't keep in exchange for their souls." He released you, taking the dirtied tissue with him. Montgomery placed it on his dashboard, planning to dispose of it later.

"...and guess what, those men left them high and dry. They lost their money, their body and their minds. Now, my folks aren't city dwellers, we're from the countryside, they didn't know any better. I know you ain't from here too."

You asked Montgomery what made him think that way.

"You have a heart of gold and hands of sand. Folks born and raised here are damn sadists with a pair of soft hands. Ain't none of them picked a field rake up before."

You said don't think you picked up a field rake in your life either.

"That ain't the point, I'm sayin' you don't blend in with the rest of these fuckin' pricks. And you're attractin' trouble like this Sugar Daddy of yours."

There is no point in trying to correct him. You just nodded in acknowledgement.

He held both of your hands in his, enveloping them tightly into a ball. It hurts a bit.

"Please, darlin'. I beg of you, stay away from him. He's gonna break your heart and I sure hell don't want to see my baby in tears. I will treat you right, be with me and you ain't gotta worry 'bout a thing. I'm gonna feed you, drive you around and buy you stuff you always wanted." He pressed your hands against his cheek, with Montgomery's stubble scratching your palm.

"Please? Could you stop seeing him for me, please, sweetheart? I'll treat you so much better than that monster. I will take care of you." He crooned, placing a kiss or two on your hands. You grimaced when you felt the wetness of his saliva on your skin.

He is insane. You looked around for a possible opportunity to escape, but there isn't any.

You glanced at the clock.

It says 11:29AM.

Montgomery realizes what you're looking at and connected the pieces. He lets go of your hands and begins tidying up around him

"You have class, don'tcha'? I'll get you back to school. But... I think ya' oughta' listen to the doctor and rest at home. You were damn near seeing the pearly gates today." He buckled his seat belt and reignited his engine.

You wince as you hear the car roar back to life.

You thought about the different possible scenarios that could happen. You're thankful that he didn't realize it's your semester break now.

[tired-reader-writer]

Not me thinking about Doctor Elise's politics and worldbuilding as I reread it yet again (it's been a long while since I last read this manhwa, I only remember the broad strokes and fully conked out for the stuff after the war— but I do remember how it made me feel and lemme just say it's Not Good™) and I'm just gonna dump my thoughts randomly in bullet points:

So Brittia is an Empire

Based on the British Empire irl

(but the imperial family's surname is Romanov... siiiiiigh)

There's a France equivalent, and specifically it seems to be based on post-revolution France

Look, we all know Britain has a history of treating their colonies shittily

Brittia is also confirmed to possess colonies

Despite the author being Korean (Korea having been a victim of colonization by Imperial Japan, who also has a history of atrocities) the topic of colonies and how the imperial core treats the rest of them never comes up again

The Childe family is most likely multiethnic

Like

C'mon

Albert and Julianne (yes I'm choosing to spell her name this way), children and heirs of House Childe, have dark skin (nobody else in this manhwa does)

Their father, Marquess Childe, is a white man

?????????? Where's their mother, author?? Did Amsel de Childe marry a woman from one of the colonies???

I guess it kinda makes sense, Childe's faction is said to have massive financial influence throughout the empire and even in “foreign lands” (whether the aforementioned foreign lands refer to colonies or actual foreign countries, who knows)

How did everyone else take this marriage??

Is racism a factor in why Julianne/Yulian cannot be Linden's fiancee?

She's from an influential house, and in the 19th century (which uhhhhh judging from how Brittia has steam trains, seems to be the general ballpark of what era this was “historically” inspired from) the aristocrats intermarried with wealthy non-aristocrats as the latter's influence grew via finances, so I can't see why the same principle cannot apply here. It would've made for a powerful alliance.

(an alternative to engaging her to Linden would be to wed her to his half-brother instead— which, yeah, Mikhail and the Childe children are cousins but you should seen how fucked up royal family trees can get, that being said, let's just assume incest isn't a thing in this setting, not even for royals, so I understand how that didn't happen)

The Emperor did wrong his wife/betrothed who did a lot to support him by marrying another woman (I'll talk about how royal titles don't make sense in this manhwa but I'll get to it when my reread gets to those flashbacks) and that woman was Marquess Childe's sister, iirc, so like. C'mon who wouldn't be mad about that. Even setting aside familial bonds you don't just go and offend your allies/supporters like that. Binding the two houses again, this time with the intent that things don't go wrong, could've been a neat play of politics to smooth out any ruffled feathers.

But nope!

To move onto another topic:

Wtf why was someone from an enemy nation, one that Brittia is currently waging war against, someone who ranks up fucking high in not-France's military command chain, at the... prince's... birthday... banquet...

Ughhhhhhhhhh

The war arc was where I started to heavily dislike Linden in my past reads, so I'm... feeling some type of way rn since in my current reread that's the point I'm reaching now.

(to narratively frame an empire, a monarchy, as the good guys and a republic as the bad guys is also...)

Y'know what, I'm not gonna comment on that one.

I mean

We all know these manhwas tend to paint the monarchy/aristocracy system in rosy lenses.

I also have thoughts on the whole romance thing but as this post is about worldbuilding I'm not gonna talk about it here.

I'll be making another worldbuilding complaint post when I actually get to the war :)

[ladymazzy]

There's a discussion happening about the rights and wrongs of Lineker referring to the Nazis in The Tweet. I do think it's more than fair to point out how fucked up it is that 'the Nazis' are so often brought up as an abstract 'Big Bad' with little to no sense of what actually made them so bad (the genocidal antisemitic, anti-roma, anti-lgbtq, all-round eugenicist white supremacism).

Yet, at the same time it is factually correct that the tory rhetoric surrounding immigrants and asylum seekers is grossly dehumanising and in this way reminiscent of the Nazi's antisemitic propaganda in the 1920s & 30s (even though the targets of that propaganda were citizens rather than would-be immigrants to Germany. Baddiel really needs to pull his fatuous head out of his arse...). And, in the spirit of the Holocaust Remembrance exhortation to 'never forget', it is important to point out when contemporary policies and rhetoric drift towards the kind that existed in Germany in the 1930s - precisely because it is so fucking dangerous

If you don't put the 'never forget' fully into practice, the Holocaust is grave danger of becoming frozen in aspic; divorced from the lived experiences of people today and future generations, as well those directly impacted at the time

That said... it is *also* true that UK (and US) immigration policy at the time was rabidly antisemitic. When German and Austrian Jews were trying seek asylum from the increasing hostility and terror, the UK was quick to say 'you ain't coming here'. The Daily Fail was (as ever) quick to side with Europe's fascists. Doors were actively closed on them by the British.

In the same spirit, pretty much every European colonial-settler state from the Americas to Australia had some kind of explicitly white supremacist immigration policy (eg: White Australia , and South American 'blanqueamiento' polices prohibiting non-European immigration to countries like Brazil and Argentina following the abolition of slavery).

The irony is that the same people criticising Lineker for invoking 1930s Germany in his tweet are by and large the same people who criticise anti-racist historians who seek to decolonise curricula and present a broader, more nuanced understanding of British history. They're the same ones that spend every other day pearl clutching about the so-called 'woke agenda' if someone so much as says 'the Transatlantic Slave Trade was fundamental to British industrialisation as it provided both the raw materials and finances necessary to power it'

If the majority of the British population had a better understanding of British history - its long history of antisemitism, and its pivotal role in creating the antisemitic, white supremacist, eugenicist, imperialist values that informed the Hitler's worldview - they would realise that it's not even necessary to invoke 'the Nazis' when discussing a Big Bad. The call has always been coming from inside the house

The UK was (and is - alongside its children-in-imperialism, the USA, Canada & Australia) a Big Bad for millions around the globe for centuries. From the Transatlantic Slave Trade, to the Opium Wars, Irish Famine and Bengal Famine, Millions have died or been displaced, languages and cultures all but annihilated, people dehumanised, economies battered all in the name of the European white-supremacist capitalist hegemony that is distinctly anglocentric

Sure, there have been many Big Bads throughout history, and the UK's own spectacular track record doesn't absolve any of them. But it's about time that people were able to refer to British policies and colonial activities. I mean, we don't have to look back far given that the Windrush scandal is still in full effect; people who should not have been deported are *currently* dying destitute because of this country's racist immigration policies

The UK is indeed *not* innocent, and, as Sivanandan said; 'we are here because you were there'

[thepete]

We Humans are in Trouble and it’s Not How You Think (or Maybe it is?)

If you think about the truly massive massiveness of the insanely vast universe we live in, it's pretty hard to make the argument that we are the only intelligent lifeforms in said universe. Stephen Hawking famously said that we shouldn't want aliens to visit Earth because they might think just like humans do and do what we did when we started "exploring" our universe (also known as "genocide"). But this assumes that all "intelligent" life is selfish, supremacist, and violent toward things they don't (bother) to understand.

I've often heard the reasoning that "intelligent" life learns how to manipulate their environment so that it better suits the needs of the "intelligent" life. Not long after I first learned that theory, I came up with my own: What if truly intelligent life is life that is smart enough to live its life without manipulating its environment? Dolphins, bonobos and octopuses are all very intelligent beings and even have somewhat human characteristics. The smarts to open a jar (octopuses), the social organization to travel in groups and work together on tasks (dolphins), or even negotiation skills that include homosexual behavior (bonobos). What if the aliens that are out there are just like dolphins or bonobos, or octopuses and might be floating by our planet right now? Maybe they've built a space ship in a way that didn't pollute their home world or strip mine it to its core? What if they didn't even do it by exploiting lesser beings or even members of their own species that were less fortunate? Perhaps they learned to live harmoniously with the other lifeforms and themselves and the natural systems on their planet and only wanted to explore space to see what was out there.

What do you think those aliens would think of us?

Would they be impressed with our thriving economy? Would they think our leaders in government and business were doing everything right? Would they marvel at the plastics and other miscellaneous chemicals that have found their way into every animal on the planet? Would their jaws (assuming they have them) drop at the sight of our incredible weapons of war in action? Would they pat us on the back for how we treat our people of color, our women, or less fortunate?

I suspect that they wouldn't feel very positively about us after gazing upon the humanity that we are.

They'd look at the centuries of war, slavery, and human exploitation, and wonder why it is still happening.

The homelessness, famine and poverty that humans still suffer in the 21st century would be equally challenging for them to understand.

The rich living in mansions would seem to them like their equivalent to medieval castles.

The destruction wrought on the physical bodies and culture of black and brown peoples that continues to this day would probably repulse them.

The way we ignore education and under value not just intelligent people, but the teachers who taught them (and the rest of us), would inspire deep shame and pity from these aliens.

We spend trillions of dollars on invading countries and waging war on those weaker than us, while health threats to all human life, like cancer, heart disease, failing water systems, and more are all but ignored.

They'd squint in disbelief when recognizing what we're afraid of: terrorists, gangs, trans people, homosexual people, people using the wrong gender bathroom, discussion of history, discussion of truth, discussion of the clitoris, discussions of rape, guns, financial/gender/racial inequality, infrastructure, hell, there was a President of the United States who banned broccoli from the White House. It's highly probable that they would find us a petty, shallow, base species.

They'd shake their head (if they have something like a head) at the fact that after 200,000 years of humanity existing in its current biological form and this is still where we are at?

These aliens would likely conclude that not only should they not visit us, but they should stay the hell away from us and make sure we don't ever leave our planet. Of course, they know we're too shallow, and fearful to actually leave our planet without a really, really good reason. We're too focused on our own petty squabbles, truly ancient rules, absurd biases and fears, and overly adaptive bigotry (we'll find any reason to hate or discriminate) to actually make a serious attempt to explore space.

And if they're aliens like Stephen Hawking predicted? They'll kill us anyway, so why not at least try to not seem like shitty space neighbors?

[encantowishes]

Writing is perhaps the greatest of human inventions, binding together people who never knew each other, citizens of distant epochs. Books break the shackles of time. A book is proof that humans are capable of working magic. -- Carl Sagan

Break the Shackles of Time

Mirabel would have tripped down the stairs if it hadn’t been for Casita catching her. When the house creaked a floorboard in admonishment, the girl grinned sheepishly and held up a magazine. “Sorry, Casita, I was just so caught up in this story.”

Now that the valley was open, the people of the Encanto had access to things most of them had never even dreamed of. Bus rides, movies, and fizzy drinks were near the top of Mirabel’s favorite new things. But just as amazing were new versions of old things, like records and books.

There were so many stories to choose from! Mirabel and Camilo were currently recommending comics to each other in much the same way Dolores and Pepa traded romances. Julieta liked mysteries, and Isabela was reading a bunch of political stuff. Félix and Agustín were more into biographies and histories.

All these new books seemed to inspire a burst of creativity in the household, as well. As she crossed the courtyard, Mirabel spotted Luisa -- who had been devouring fantastical adventures -- and Antonio -- always asking for animal stories, of course -- hard at work on their epic serial, “Antonio in the Land of Donkeycorns.” Entering the kitchen, she found Bruno sitting still at the dining table, staring at the blank page before him as though the paper itself might suddenly reveal some long-hidden truth of the universe.

“How’s the new play coming, Tío?” Mirabel asked brightly, helping herself to a leftover buñelo. Camilo wasn’t the only growing teen in this house.

Bruno did not move at all, only letting out a distressed groan. The rat on his shoulder started grooming him, presumably in an attempt to soothe.

“Am I interrupting?” came Alma’s voice from behind Mirabel. She carried a worn cardboard box.

“Come on in, Má,” Bruno said, still not moving.

“Can I help you with that?” Mirabel asked, gesturing toward the box.

“Thank you, but it’s only going right here.” Alma set the box down on the table. Turning to Bruno, she said, “I thought you said after you read all those new plays you were full of ideas?”

“I am, I just … I wanna make people cry.”

Alma and Mirabel gave him identical looks of concern.

“No! That came out wrong. I want … I wanna move people. I wanna write something that makes people think, or, or feel. Y’know … something that people will look back on years from now and say, ‘boy, that Bruno Madrigal sure knew how to write a story.’”

Alma smiled fondly. “You never even knew him, and still …” She lifted the lid from the box and began pulling out the contents. There were a few notebooks, and many photos.

“Who took all of these?” Mirabel asked, picking up a photo. A man led a laden donkey through a village street, while children played off to the side. She didn’t recognize any of the people. Or the place. Yet she felt as though she knew a bit of their story, just from this one image. “This is really good.”

“Thank you,” Alma said. “I took these when I was young. Your abuelo had an idea for a book. We were going to call it: ‘Colombia in the New Century.’” She chuckled. “Neither of us had ever been more than ten miles from the places we were born, but we thought we could tell a big story. The story of the whole country. I took the photos, he wrote the words.” She picked up a notebook with a tan cover. “That’s all in here. But what I was really looking for is this.” She pulled out a larger book.

“What’s that?” Mirabel asked.

“A scrapbook.” Alma laid the book on the table and opened it. The pages were filled with photos, a few newspaper clippings, and short bits of writing, notes about funny or interesting things that had happened.

“I’ve never seen that,” Bruno said.

She pushed it toward him. “I put it all away as soon as we came to the Encanto. I’m sorry, mijo, I should have shown this to you and your sisters long ago. But I … couldn’t.”

Bruno and Mirabel began looking through the pages. A picture of Alma and Pedro goofing off at a festival. A scribbled joke. A photo of Pedro playing tejo with other young men. A clipping about a dance competition, with a woman’s name underlined -- a friend, perhaps. A doodle of a donkey. A closeup of Pedro sleeping.

“I’ve decided I want to add to the scrapbook again,” Alma said. “So you all will have it to look back on when -- oh!”

Bruno and Mirabel looked up. Alma gingerly cradled a small red notebook. “I thought this had been lost,” she breathed. She looked at them. “This is Pedro’s journal.” Alma hesitated before handing it to her son.

“Me?”

“Perhaps it will help.”

Bruno read his father’s journal, and then Mirabel did, too. Before long, the whole family had seen it.

Pedro had begun his journal shortly after meeting Alma. He wrote of his deep love for her, and how he admired her strength, even if she was a little scary sometimes. He wrote of how his heart swelled as he realized that this was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, and of his anxiety about proposing to her. He wrote with wry humor of how nearly everything had gone wrong on their wedding day, how they had almost arrived at the jail by accident, how a cart of manure had overturned outside the church, how none of that mattered because they both had said “I do.”

Pedro wrote of his excitement and fear about his impending fatherhood. The doctor said there was definitely more than one baby, but Alma must be trying to work him up with her insistence that there were three. He wrote about his hopes for the future his children would grow up in -- the brand-new twentieth century -- and all the milestones in their lives he was looking forward to.

His final entry was written while Alma was giving birth. The midwife would not allow him to come in, and the waiting had him nearly bursting. But from what he could hear, it seemed that Alma had been right all along. Suddenly, Pedro was the father of three children. Was he up to the task? He had love enough, he knew. He had boundless love for these babies he had not even seen yet. But did he have the courage, the strength, to be the father his children deserved?

“It’s strange,” Mirabel said to Bruno after she finished reading. “I feel like he was telling me his story. I almost feel like I really met him.”

Bruno nodded. “I know what you mean.” But he did not look up from the page he was quickly filling with his own words.

[ghost-hosts]

Corbin Astrophel

General Information

First name: Corbin 

Middle name(s): Astrophel

Surname: Obitus

Age: 35+

Date of birth: 10/31

Race: Spirit

Gender: indifferent/nonbinary

Sexuality: queer

Current residence: HK Manor, Peach, Louisiana

Relationship status: Single

Social status: Upper Class

Traits of Voice

Accent (if any): Irish

Language spoken: English

Other languages known: Gaelic, some Latin

Style of speaking: poised most of the time, depends on situation

Volume of voice: average

Physical Appearence

Faceclaim: Andy Biersack

Height: 6'2

Weight: 140 lb

Eye colour: Blue

Skin colour: pale

Shape of face: angular

Distinguishing features: eyes, cheekbones

Build of body: skinny but muscular

Hair colour: usually either white, black or lavender

Hair style: longer, to his cheekbones

Complexion: clear

Posture: decent if not over confident usually

Tattoos: several along his arms and on either side of his neck and down his ribs

Piercings: lip piercings, with several ear piercings and two eye brow piercings on the left side 

Typical clothing: suits during the night, otherwise wears pastel lavender and black, usually pastel goth when not working

Is seen by others as: intimidating, bold, confident, mysterious, carefree

Personality

Likes: the manor, morbid things, bones, the mausoleum under the willow tree behind the manor, farther away from the rest

Dislikes: drugs, abusers, pain, touch

Education: high school

Fears: demons, hallucinations, being held onto

Personal goals: To help others heal

General attitude: welcoming, patient, kind

Religious values: pagan

General intelligence: high

General sociability: low to moderate

Health

Illnesses (if any):

drug addiction

mild hallucinations

insomnia

anxiety

depression

PTSD

Allergies (if any):

Sleeping habits: horrible. Looks like he hasn’t slept in centuries

Energy level: moderate

Eating habits: used to struggle with eating

Memory: shockingly good

Any unhealthy habits: vaping, workaholic

History

Birth country: Ireland

Hometown: Dublin

Childhood: Really well, even if his mother struggled immensely

Teen years: tumultuous, his bio dad coming back into his life got him into drugs

Adult years: after losing his crush and four others, he ran away to Louisianna

Past places of residence: Ireland, LA

History of family: comes from a long line of witches, grandfather is Death

Relationships

Parents: Valdis Kemp-Obitus(mother), Vincent Renner(father), Annaline Kemp(great grandmother), Mortem Obitus(grandfather),

Siblings: none

Any enemies (and why): none

Children: none

Friends: Church/Rowan, Zera

Best friend(s): Ace (hiddcnself)

Important friends/relatives (explain):

Love interest (if there is one):

Combat

Peaceful or violent: depends on the situation

Weapon (if applicable): cane

Style of fighting: dirty street fighting

Others

Occupation: Ghost Host

Current home: Hannigan-Kemp Manor

Favourite types of food: sugar

Favourite types of drink: cherry soda

Hobbies/past times: cooking and baking, exploring the house

Guilty pleasures: drawing and listening to stupid podcasts

Pet peeves: loudness, interruptions

Pets: Church(???)

Talents: Singing, art, really good at lying

Favourite colours: lavender and black

Favourite type of music: punk, metal and classical

Biography

Corbin grew up in Ireland, with a mom who worked as a Dominatrix at a sex club. He grew up in the club, knowing the business and learned about safe sex, and what wasn’t okay, which was beneficial when they moved to LA when his dad finally decided to be in his life. It was hard the transition from Ireland to LA, and he got pulled into the wrong crowd pretty quickly. His dad wasn’t in his life for long though. 

His mother inherited HK Manor when he was seventeen from his great grandmother. A few years later, while on a particularly bad trip, he watched his crush and four of his friends summoned demons while high. He held onto his crush trying to keep him from going to hell. Corbin had to watch as he unknowingly sped up his crush’s life. He watched and felt his crush’s life be drained from him, as his skin wrinkled and greyed and his eyes faded, turning to bone and to dust. 

After the event he fled to Louisianna, and put his entire heart and soul into restoring the manor. Though when he turned twenty-five his body started failing him and he kept it quiet until he was visited by Mortem who offered him the job of ghost host when he was ready, once he had his affairs in order.

He believes he is dead now, but his body is in stasis tied to the house, fed by his uncle every few weeks through his own life force.

[frenchelshade]

Illuminating Elegance: The Enduring Allure of Vintage Lamps and American Light Fixtures

Adding vintage lamps to your home is a great way to bring history into your room while also making a personal statement. The unique design and artistic expression of each lamp reflect a period long past. The need for unique and individualistic interior design is likely behind the recent uptick in sales of antique lights in the United States. 

You can make your house a one-of-a-kind expression of your taste and admiration for the enduring beauty of vintage interior design with the help of lamps, whether you're drawn to the elaborate details of an Art Deco table lamp or the simplicity of a mid-century floor lamp.

In this exploration of antique lamps, we will look at their cultural significance in the United States and showcase five stunning models that you can get at a discount from Fenchel Shades.

The Value of Vintage Lamps in the United States

Timelessness and Nostalgia

Vintage lamps transport people to a bygone period through their design aesthetics, making them feel nostalgic. From the Art Deco glitz of the 1920s to the minimalist mid-century modernism of the 1950s, every antique lamp has a history and represents the aesthetic preferences of its era.

Distinct Design Statements

In a time when mass-produced goods predominated, antique lamps were a striking example of individualistic design. They add character to rooms that generic, mass-produced furniture can't always manage, thanks to their meticulous craftsmanship and meticulous attention to detail.

Environmental Friendliness

Embracing antique light fixtures is in line with the current movement toward eco-friendly lifestyles. By reducing the demand for new manufacturing and decreasing environmental effects, individuals can contribute to a more eco-friendly lifestyle by reusing and enjoying existing products.

Wide Variety of Forms

Vintage lamps are available in a multitude of forms, from industrial-inspired task lights to exquisite crystal chandeliers. Because of this adaptability, homeowners can design visually stunning and one-of-a-kind eclectic interiors by skillfully combining modern elements with more traditional ones.

Five Remarkable Vintage Lamps from Fenchel Shades

#1 Pair Of Vintage Aquarium Blue Glass Table Lamps With Polished Nickel Fittings

The enchanting charm of these two vintage aquarium blue glass table lamps will elevate any room. These lamps deftly combine form and function with their mesmerizing aquatic hues and polished nickel fittings. An ideal way to spruce up any space with a splash of color and style.

#2 Vintage Petites Choses Metal Brass Blackamoor Nubian Man With Bird Cages

The craftsmanship of old lamps is on full display in Blackamoor Nubian Man with Bird Cages. Both a light fixture and an enchanting sculpture, this one-of-a-kind item displays the detailed artistry of a bygone age.

#3 Vintage Hexagonal Pagoda Form Brass Painted Lantern, Circa 1940

The Vintage Hexagonal Pagoda Form Brass Painted Lantern will give your room an air of 1940s glitz. The graceful form of a lantern matches the classic beauty of brass in this magnificent work of art. Hanging from the ceiling, it brings an air of old-world splendor to any space.

#4 Pair Antique French Seltzer Bottle Lamps

These lamps have a classic, country-French vibe that will always be in vogue. You can't go wrong with these lamps made from recycled seltzer bottles for your retro-themed home. They bring a touch of history to your space while also serving a practical purpose.

#5 Pair Nickel Dandelion Accent Desk Console Lamps

These lamps capture the carefree charm of nature and will be a welcome addition to any office. The subtle dandelion pattern embodies nature's beauty, while the nickel plating brings a hint of modern elegance. Ideal for individuals who want their old and modern decor to work together.

Finding Your Way Around the World of Vintage Lamps 

Do Your Homework: 

Before you buy any antique lamps, be sure you know their history and can verify their authenticity. If you take the time to learn about the pieces' histories and designs, you can buy authentic ones that suit your taste.

Condition & Restoration:

Think about how well the vintage lamps are holding up in terms of restoration. While little wear and tear could be charming, major damage could necessitate expensive repairs. To make a well-informed investment decision, weigh the costs and restoration options.

Style Considerations:

Antique lamps range from those with elaborate Victorian designs to those with a more modern, minimalist aesthetic. Think about the room's current furnishings and the aesthetic you're going for. Harmoniously enhancing your space is the aim.

Functional Considerations:

Check that the vintage lamps serve their purpose. Take a look at the electrical components, including the wiring and sockets. Although rewiring may be necessary for some antique lamps, others may have been well-cared for and are now ready to illuminate your home.

Adopting a Retro Style of Lighting

Even if trends come and go, antique lamps will always be treasured for the memories they hold and the quality of their construction. Their use in American homes is indicative of a need for genuine, character-filled interiors and a respect for the craftsmanship of bygone eras.

Peruse the hand-picked collection of Fenchel Shades as you set out on the path to include antique lamps in your dwelling. Each lamp has a unique history, shedding light on bygone eras while gracefully illuminating the present. 

Vintage lamps are a great way to take a trip through time with their charming, one-of-a-kind, and environmentally friendly appeal. Use these beautiful, adorable lamps to decorate your space and give them a luxurious look. 

Buy Vintage Lamps at Chandelier Sale from Fenchel Shades

At Fenchel Shades' Chandelier Sale, you will find a collection of vintage lights that exude an air of classic elegance. The understated vintage lighting will transform any room. You can bring a little bit of nostalgia into any space with our carefully selected collection.

These lamps feature one-of-a-kind designs and superb craftsmanship. Careful craftsmanship guarantees a harmonious combination of form and function in every piece, from traditional table lamps to eye-catching chandeliers. 

You won't want to pass on this one-of-a-kind chance to give your home a charming retro vibe. Shop now at Fenchel Shades for charming vintage lamps that will add character and warmth to any room.

Original Source, https://bityl.co/NDEp

[youcantfiremebecauseiquit]

how would you describe your political affiliation then? i don't want to be following any rightwing apologists

Uh, criticizing people falling for communism/"communism is great but it was just done bad way!" is being rightwing apologist? How so? I don't believe "communism done right" scenario is possible. I'm from Poland, I know our history. PRL is not just "cool vintage times and nostalgia". In 1944 red army was just peacefully waiting on the other side til Warsaw burns down and Germans kill remaining civillians and run away (instead of helping anyone as expected), then after entering new authorities started chasing and killing AK soldiers even up until fucking 60's and bothering their families, and up until the end "inconvenient people" were spied, hunted, tortured and executed, people murdered in the streets at protests. Censorship, no freedom of speech, curfew. People getting kicked out of the houses belonging to their family for years, because hey, its the state's property (and in result, hundreds of historical buildings went to waste and literally decayed through these decades, because communists had great ideas like dumping compost inside). Introducing martial law on a whim in 1981. I'm very sorry that i'm not sympathetic towards people who beat others to death and rip out someone's fingernails to make them talk.

"Equal share for everyone!" There was nothing in the shops at times, whoever was first was getting stuff, others weren't. People waited for stuff like flat apartment or a car forever sometimes, especially if they did something deemed wrong by the government. Ever heard of Holodomor in Ukraine in 1932-1933? Great Chinese Famine in 1959-1961? Communism was so great, so great and equal that in fact millions of people died from hunger. The original concept had these grand aims and as a concept it might seem great, but it's always the outcome that matters. There's no equality, only government members and people on highest stands are living comfortably, and resorting to terrorizing others to get what they want - that's how it always ends. "There are people equal but some are more equal than the others". You'll never have leaders who will be wiling to live on the same level as common people and being "equal"to them, that's never their aim. Look at the world and its history and show me any country with this system that hasn't ended up like that. People can bitch about utopian socialism and how everything so far was just "done wrong way", but that's pointless. A fair system in which everybody's equal and safe is impossible. Humans are egoistical and powerhungry, and will put down others to elevate themselves if there;s a chance. Don't treat this as a defence of consumerism (incidentally, my previous sentence applies to it ideally as well) but wanting communism in 21st century and expecting it would be so great is wishful thinking.

I don't support any political party from my country (nor any other). They're all wasteless shit, nothing to choose there. I'm yet to see a side that proposes something that makes sense, and i don't believe there will be a time i'd get to. They're all politicians, and they're shady scum people by default, who have nothing in common with normal people. whoever believes they understand our problems or have any of our interests in mind is naive.

One more thing now that you're mentioning rightwing. Right is currently ruling party in my country (unfortunately). You might find interesting that our rightwing, similar to other parties, is full of ex communists who just rebranded for a new decade.

[alsjeblieft-zeg]

054 of 2023

Do you have a reason to smile right now?

Yeah, I just came back from the sea. It was very windy, but awesome.

Do you start the shower water before or after you get in?

Before. We need our boiler to warm it up for, like, two minutes before it gets hot.

True or false: Your not sitting on a chair to use the computer right now.

True, I’m not.

Do you regret any of your past relationships?

I feel they’ve taught me something, but I only regret wasted months.

How many times have you been to a museum?

I can’t count, but I’ve only been to one in the city I live in.

How has this past week been for you?

Awesome. I travelled a bit around the province and beyond.

Is anything going to happen next month that makes you happy?

Hopefully. We’ll see.

Are you going to be getting any new pets soon?

Probably not. We already have two.

Do you like the rain?

Nah I hate rain. Belgium is rainy by nature and I just can’t get used to it.

Do you like it when stores have sales?

Who doesn’t? Always nice to save some money.

Would you rather be a Panda or Grizzly bear?

Panda, they look cool.

Do you have any of your Easter candy left over?

What? Easter was almost a year ago. I don’t have special candy for that occasion, too. We never buy it.

Is there someone on your mind that shouldn’t be?

Yeah, M. I can’t help it.

Does your ex make you mad?

No, we’re great friends.

Will you talk to someone on the phone tonight?

Why would I?

Do you like BBQ sauce?

I do, but as far as I know, every company has its own recipe.

Do the stairs in your house have carpet?

No, they don’t.

What were you doing at 9 AM this morning?

Stressing out about that door banging situation.

Can you do a twirl like a ballerina?

LMAO.

Would you rather eat 12 hot dogs or 6 hamburgers?

Either, but not in that amount omg. I barely eat.

What color is the door to your basement?

We don’t have any basement. Cellars in Belgian houses are a rarity.

Was your favorite class science because of the experiments?

Not only. By the way, we don’t have science classes in my country. We habve separete biology, chemistry, physics and all.

Do you like citrus pop or any drinks?

Yeah, Schweppes Citrus Mix is pretty cool.

Last time you wore the opposite sex’s clothing?

Never. I’m not a crossdresser.

What’s the last board game you played?

I don’t remember, must have been years ago.

What laundry detergent do you use?

Formil.

Do you trust people too easily?

No. I don’t trust people at all, unless I know them well.

Are you currently fighting with someone?

Not that I know of.

Do you hang out with your siblings friends?

No, we live too far from each other.

Last time you had butterflies in your stomach?

I don’t think I ever did. Maybe something close to it, last year with M.

Have you ever kept anything wild as a pet?

No, unless my cats count as wild XD

Do you set good examples for little kids?

Pffft. Not in the eyes of conservative people.

Does your favorite song mention a famous person’s name in it?

I don’t think so.

Are you counting down the days to anything?

Visiting my parents again, but we don’t know yet when it will happen.

Does your house have a pool?

LMAO XD it’s a tiny house built probably two centuries ago or something.

If you broke your computer, would you be able to fix it by yourself?

Easily. My secondary school diploma is computer technician.

On a scale 1-10, how much does the opposite sex confuse you?

11. Women are so complicated, and I don’t mean it in a wrong way.

When you party, do you get wild?

I used to get drunk a lot, but not anymore.

If you found a wallet full of money, what would you do?

Give it back to the owner. I always try to be fair.

Do you do cheers often?

What is that even?

Do you enjoy fishing?

No, I don’t.

Was your first job babysitting?

Thankfully not.

Did you wear a hoodie today?

I always wear a hoodie, unless it’s hot outside.

Are you embarrassed to talk about stuff with your dad?

No. I’d rather talk to him than to my mum. He’s a man like me, after all.

Taylor Swift or Carrie Underwood?

No.

[linception]

Act VI: The Case of the Missing Asian

A door opens. Commotion in the gallery. Lawyers shuffle papers. The judge enters the courtroom. Stares you down.

Green and Turner in the first row, just behind you, ready to testify for the prosecution. The judge smiles at them.

Bailiff

All rise. Case No. 47311, People vs. Wu.   (then) The Case of the Missing Asian.

_____

Prosecution

Now then, Detective, how is it relevant, your observation of Mr. Wu’s character?

Turner

He’s internalized a sense of inferiority. To White people, obviously. But also to Black people. Does he realize that?

He thinks he can’t participate in this race dialogue, because Asians haven’t been persecuted as much as Black people.

Don’t you need to take some responsibility for yourself? For the categories you put us in? Black and White? I mean, come on? Do you think you’re the only one who’s trapped?

_____

Green takes the stand. The prosecutor makes eyes at her.

Green

What are you looking for? Do you think you’re the only group to be invisible?

How about: Older women Older people in general People that are overweight People that don’t conform to conventional Western beauty standard Black women Women in general in the workplace

Are you sure you’re not looking for something that you feel entitled to? Isn’t that a kind of narcissism? (then) Are you sure you’re not asking to be treated like a White man?

Older Brother

He’s asking to be treated like an American. A real American. Because, honestly, when you think American, what color do you see? White? Black?    (dramatic pause) We’ve been here two hundred years. The first Chinese came in 1815. Germans and Dutch and Irish and Italians who came at the turn of the twentieth century. They’re Americans.    (points at himself) Why doesn’t this face register as American? Is it because we make the story too complicated? Because we haven’t figured out how yet. Whether it’s a tragedy or a comedy or something in between. If we haven’t cracked the code of what it’s like to be inside this face, then how can we explain it to anyone else?

Prosecution

Objection. Who cares?

Older Brother

This is the Case of the Missing Asian, right?

Judge

Yes. What’s your point?

Older Brother

If I was the Asian who disappeared, and now I’m back and standing here and obviously okay...

Prosecution

There was another guy who disappeared.

Older Brother

Who?

Judge

(points at you)

You.

You

I’m on trial for my own disappearance?

Older Brother

Welcome to Black and White.

Judge

Defense will call its first witness.

Older Brother

You ready for this?

You 

I am. Also, do I really have a choice?

Older Brother walks across the room.

Older Brother

Mr. Wu, is it true that you have an internalized sense of inferiority?

You

What?

Older Brother

That because on the one hand you, for obvious reason, have not been and can never be fully assimilated into mainstream, i.e., White America–

You

What are you saying?

Older Brother

And on the other hand neither do you feel justified in claiming solidarity with other historically and currently oppressed groups. That while your community’s experience in the United States has included racism on the personal and the institutional levels, including but not limited to: immigration quotes, actual federal legislation expressly excluding people who look like you from entering the country. Legislation that was in effect for almost a century. Antimiscegenation laws. Discriminatory housing policies. Alien land laws and restrictive covenants. Violation of civil liberties including internment. That despite all of that, you somehow feel that your oppression, because it does not include the original American sin-of slavery– that it will never add up to something equivalent. That the wrongs committed against your ancestors are incommensurate in magnitude with those committed against Black people in America. And whether or not that quantification, whether accurate or not, because of all of this you feel on some level that you maybe can’t even quite verbalize out of shame or embarrassment, that the validity and volume of your complaints must be calibrated appropriately, must be in proportion to the aggregate suffering of your people.    (then) Your oppression is second-class.

You

Which side are you on?

Judge

It’s a fair question, counselor.

Older Brother

Someone who can’t be viewed through either lens. Whose case cannot be properly considered by this court, where the rules and assumptions are based on particular dialectic. Someone whose story will never fit into Black and White.    (then) The error in your reasoning is built right into the premise– using the Black experience as the model for the Asian immigrant is necessarily going to lead to this. It’s based on an analogy, on a comparison, on something quantitative. But the experience of Asians in America isn’t just a scaled-back or dialed-down version of the Black experience. Instead of co-opting someone else’s experience of consciousness, he must define his own.    (then) I would draw the court’s attention to the case of People v. Hall.

Older Brother

The legitimacy of categorizing “Asiatic” in such a way as to justify lumping them into the clause “Blacks and Indians” (in order to deny them the right to testify against Whites) is based on the subjective state of mind of a single man (Christopher Columbus) at a particular historical moment hundreds of years ago, who happened at that moment to be spectacularly and egregiously mistaken about where on the globe he had drifted into; thus a navigational misunderstand of the world itself becomes the justification for a legally binding category.

Judge

Basically, a mistake.

Older Brother

Exactly. To put it another way, because in 1492 Columbus had no clue where he was, Chinese should have the same rights as Blacks, which is to say, no rights. Forget that this is likely a fiction–even taking the argument seriously on its face, the effect of this is that we have codified with the force of law a category: Blacks and Asiatics, separating them (because obviously, creating a new category of non-White), a secondary effect is that it also codifies Asiatics as outside the Black category.

Inferior, and yet not the same way Blacks were considered inferior.

Older Brother continues.

Somehow, in two hundred years, every wave, every new boatload of Asians, still as fresh, as alien to this land as the first.   (then) This is it. The root of it all. The real history of yellow people in America. Two hundred years of being perpetual foreigners.

Older Brother pauses.

They zoned us, kept us roped off from everyone else. Trapped us inside. Cut us off from our families, our history. So we made it our own place. Chinatown. A place for preservation and self-preservation. Give them what they feel is right, is safe. Make it fit their ideas of what is out there. Don’t threaten them. Chinatown and indeed being Chinese is and always has been, from the very beginning, a construction, a performance of features, gestures, culture and exoticism. An invention, a reinvention, a stylization. Figuring out the show, finding our place in it, which was the background, as scenery, as nonspeaking players. Figuring out what you’re allowed to say. Above all, trying to never, ever offend. To watch the mainstream, find out what kind of fiction they are telling themselves, find a bit part in it. Be appealing and acceptable, be what they want to see.    (then) My client was part of this system. Both victim and suspect, he killed countless Asian men. still as fresh, as alien to this land as the first.  (gasp from the gallery) Killed them and then, six weeks later, became them again, as if nothing had happened, as if he had no memory or remorse. He allowed it to happen, allowed himself to become Generic, so that no one could even tell what was happening. He is guilty, Your Honor, and ladies and gentlemen of the jury. Guilty of wanting to be part of something that never wanted him.    (beat) The defense rests.

- Charles Yu, Interior Chinatown

[norsesuggestions]

working at making my irl sommer house in the sims 4, aaaand. the functionalist mid 20th archictects of sweden were right. traditional swedish archicteture when you exchange the woodlogs for flat walls, are just boxes stacked on top of eachother

(this has the side effect of making this build currently look like the swedish “fake historical building” look from the late 1980s instead of genuine article BUT WELL. I can fix that. maybe??)

(also, rip the actual 4 windows of my summer house, it just looked too bad in the sims 4 with so few windows)

i am not done yet, but when i am done i am gonna publish a link to it in my the sims 4 gallery, so one can observe the.... experience of a traditional food storage unit converted into a living space in the 1950s ;P)

my actual sommer house irl

ps. building is not my greatest strenght in the sims 4, but i just thought this would be a fun way to share how traditional swedish houses which are still in use can look like)

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Crisis Redo Pt 13

Lillian Luthor's nose crinkles into a sneer as she watches the highway melt into back country roads. She's no stranger to winding roads, of course, but usually they carry her to luxurious chateaus and manors, not the mid century clapboard houses that pepper either side of the road as her driver takes them further into the heart of Willow Creek.

It's... rural, in the plainest sense of the term.

At least the town's main street is quaint enough, in the way small towns tend to be. Lillian surveys the small shops that line the town square, but lets them slip from her mind the moment she's past.

Her destination is past the main town, off a side street that takes them to a quiet lane terminating in a single large house. And it is a house, complete with a wrap around porch and inlaid-glass front door. The only thing that betrays its true purpose is a small sign that stands at the base of the walk.

Willow Creek Medical Care

Innocuous. Charming.

And oh, so quiet.

Lillian exits the vehicle and steps into the winter afternoon, tugging her coat a little closer around her neck. It's colder here than in National City, even Metropolis.

She takes the porch steps up to the front door, and though it is outside the operating hours listed on the sign, the knob turns easily, unlocked. The first thing Lillian notices is that the grand foyer has been turned into a waiting room, as has the first room on the right.

A patient is coming out as Lillian enters; he gives her a strange look but says nothing. When the door shuts behind him, the place is completely empty, as she had hoped it would be. Well, empty save for the trim figure in a white lab coat currently wiping down an exam table.

Lillian watches her daughter in silent appraisal, taking in the faint humming as Lena works and the dark braid tucked over one shoulder. Her clothes underneath the lab coat are at least professional: dark slacks and a pair of dress boots coupled with a gray turtleneck.

She waits, watching, until Lena turns to put away the disinfectant.

Lena freezes at the sight of her.

Surprise quickly melts to recalcitrant suspicion in Lena's eyes, her features hardening in recognition.

"What are you doing here?"

"Is that really how you greet your mother?"

Lena's chin lifts. "You must be mistaken--"

"Don't bother pretending, darling," Lillian returns. "This may not be the reality in which I raised you, but Lex ensured I remembered everything when the realities merged."

"How generous of him."

"Hardly. He simply recognized the benefit of his greatest ally retaining their memories." Lillian steps forward, casting her gaze around the waiting room and the exam room beyond. It's tidy, if hardly clinical. But then again, it's hardly like any surgeries are transpiring here.

"Dr. Walsh," Lillian says slowly. "Imagine my surprise when I found my daughter had become a doctor of medicine."

"What do you want?" Lena says crisply, folding her arms over her chest.

Lillian looks at her, feigning innocent. "Don't get me wrong, I'm honored--"

"You had nothing to do with it, I assure you."

Lillian continues, unfazed. "But sweetheart... country medicine is below someone of your caliber... in any reality."

"I'm not sure you're the best judge of that," Lena snipes, "seeing as you no longer have your medical license."

Lillian stops short with a sharp glare. "My point is," she continues, "I expected more of you."

To her surprise, instead of quailing Lena sinks into a cocky stance, a smirk on her lips. "Then it'll kill you to know that I volunteer at meth clinic in National City."

Lillians tsks.

"And I offer free healthcare for the migrant workers who tend the illegal pot farms by the river."

That makes Lillian pause.

"And half my patients are aliens."

"Enough," Lillian snaps. Then she sighs. "I'm not here to fight."

Lena rolls her eyes. "Right."

"Is it so hard to believe that I missed my daughter?"

Lillian isn't sure why, but that makes Lena pause. A crack forms in her combative facade, and Lillian spots a glimpse of the girl she once raised.

Lena frowns. "How did you even find me?"

"Once you helped put Lex in prison, you had to know it would only be a matter of time before someone came looking. You're simply lucky it was me and not someone... nefarious."

Lena's frown deepens into a scowl, and Lillian softens. "You need to be careful, Lena. If I could find you, so can others. Others who may mean you harm--"

"I'd like you to leave," Lena interrupts. She draws herself to her full height, and Lillian finds herself doing the same. "I'll tell you the same thing I told Supergirl: whatever you might remember, it's a different world now. I am not your friend, and I am not your daughter. I want nothing to do with you."

Lillian keeps her face impassive, holding Lena's gaze for a long moment. New reality or no, she knows the woman in front of her well enough to know she won't get anywhere further today.

"Very well," she allows. She turns to leave, but pauses before she hits the threshold of the foyer. "You're wrong about one thing though," she says over her shoulder.

Lena regards her with a cold gaze.

"You will always be my daughter."

[papipopsicle]

AFTERTASTE PART SEVEN

Pairing: Archie Andrews X Reader

Summary: In which two best friends since childhood test whether sex and friendship can co-exist without causing conflict. Including OC's Flick and Cherry, a bisexual and lesbian in a sapphic relationship who are best friends of Y/N.

Song: Dream Boy by Waterparks

Warnings: swearing

Words: 2.1K

MASTERLIST

feedback is always appreciated

Y/F and Y/M Robins were far from perfect parents. Y/F had the mental age of a toddler at times, and being an estate agent who always has to go the extra mile- he often wasn't home when his wife needed him the most. Y/M, on the other end of things, had been a stay at home mum until Y/N turned 16 last summer, and now she helped with all the administrative work for Mayor McCoy. She was a maternal creature which, coupled with her brilliant sarcasm, made for some explosive conversations. The two met on the first day of university and got married a week after the last.

When Y/M first found out she was pregnant with little Y/S Robins, the two realised they wanted a quiet bubble of a town to raise their children and grow up with them. But it wasn't until their second daughter was about to turn seven until they found their forever home in the quaint town of Riverdale. Ten years passing before their eyes, and the picturesque place didn't seen all that anymore.

Jason Blossom's death had nothing to do with the short gunshot sounding over the waves of Sweetwater River, the noise which woke Y/N from her sweet unmemorable dreams every few nights. The summer days rolled into early August without anyone caring, Y/N spending most of them at Cheryl's side listening intently to her past adventures with her brother. Betty threw herself into an internship at a publication house; Flick and Cherry had volunteered at a summer camp, and Archie was helping his dad out more and more with constructions job.

Although it hadn't been the start to the relationship Y/N had hoped for- the nervous giggles and hand holding, short and sweet kisses on late night walks followed by poetry worthy cuddling. There was a magnificent silver lining as Archie's muscles gained definition, and he suited the sweaty builder look far too well.

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y/n Humph!

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"Earth to my gorgeous queen? Y/N/N?" Cheryl quizzed her friend, who currently resided at the poolside of Thornehill Manor. Her mind was off on a glorious tangent about her rendezvous in the kitchen at two in the morning. Fixing herself a glass of water, when Archie slips his hand into her pyjama shorts, his other around her mouth muffling her needy moans.

The red headed beauty shoved her y/h/c friend playfully, warm skin sweaty under her pale touch. Y/N blinked innocently and sent her an apologetic smile, "What?"

"I asked if you've thought about dating anyone else since Clayton?" The fiery ginger girl enquired with her usual upbeat tone.

Cheryl knew she had a unique quality about her which made it almost impossible for Y/N to lie to her face. The y/h/c girl scrunched up her nose, hiding the smile the idea of Archie Andrews brought to her face. 'Yes. We started off as fuck buddies but never actually fucked. Then I drunkenly asked him to be my boyfriend, now a month later I think we may genuinely work out.'

"Maybe." Y/N bit her bottom lip, listening to her friend's squeal as she squeezed her sun tanned arm.

"I knew it! You have this euphoric glow you only get when someone else makes you climax." The redhead affirmed confidently, watching the Robins girl's eyes bug out before hitting her arm, "Y/N/N, you know your secret's safe with me."

"Fine." She sighed and took a sip of her fruity cocktail, "It started off as just fooling around, honestly I just needed to let off some steam after everything. I knew he was into the kinds of things I was, I mean he used to tease me about it non stop. And it was good, so good I stopped being a pussy and asked him to be my boyfriend."

"Holy freaking hell!" The Blossom girl grinned with excitement, "Dare I ask, who is it?"

Y/N deadpanned at her friend, "Guess."

"Please don't tell me it's that muscular oaf Reggie, he's pretty but there's not exactly much going on upstairs." Cheryl tapped her temples and rolled her eyes at the thought.

"Nope."

The ginger thought for a moment, consulting her liquid courage and splashing her feet around the waters edge, "It's Archie."

All it took was a side-eyed glance at the y/h/c girl's blooming rosy cheeks to know she definitely wasn't wrong. Y/N severely lacked the ability to lie, even if her tone held conviction, her features were far too expressive and told the truth all on their own. It's not like they were hiding it from anyone, but the past four weeks had gone far too quickly without any moments to spare for the world around them. They slept together each night, the majority of that time not actually spent sleeping, but they hadn't been given the chance yet to explore more romantic avenues.

"It's fucking Archie Andrews- you're fucking Archie Andrews and don't you dare deny it." Cheryl gawked in her gorgeous white and nude bikini, watching as her friend lay back against the hot marble slabs which encased the large pool with the largest grin adorning her plump lips.

"We haven't had sex yet, so technically you aren't completely correct." Y/N winked but carried on before the girl exploded with a hundred questions and could never be turned off, "Trust me, I want to, and I'm sure he does too. But you know, it's his first time, I want it to be perfect for him."

"Y/N/N, you really love him, don't you?" Cheryl gagged to begin with, but she found it sweet in truth. She wanted someone to hold, who would hold her right back just as tight for no other reason than needing to.

Y/N sat back up and paddled her feet, "You have no idea, Cher."

Arch 🧡

That new post should be illegal

Tiger 💛

Ooo

I like this reaction

Maybe I should post more

Like this one

Cheryl pushed me in the pool

And I may have had a drink

Or three

Arch 🧡

Well that's sexy

I swear nobody looks good like that how on earth

You're a goddess

But also

How's she holding up?

Tiger 💛

🥺😇

Broken

But she's strong yk

You coming over for dinner?

Arch 🧡

Yeah Y/D invited my dad too

Need me to pick you up from Cheryl's?

Tiger 💛

Awe cute we love a bromance, and it's all good my mommas coming now anyways :))

Hours had elapsed far too fast and soon the summer heat simmered into cool waves of wind brushing over sun kissed skin. Cheryl's arms were clasped around the blonde's shoulders in a tight embrace.

"Thank you so much, Y/N/N, I don't know what I'd do without you!" The Blossom girl professed with sparkling eyes and a brilliant smile.

Y/N beamed up at her, fingers carding through her damp y/h/c hair as she looked over her shoulder to see her mum pulling into the driveway, "You don't need to thank me, Cher, friends look after each other. Message me if you need me, okay?"

Cheryl promised she would and the two teen girls hugged goodbye, with Y/N soon heading home- listening to her mother gossip about Hal and Alice's screaming match last night, Y/N loved her inability to keep her mouth shut sometimes.

"Mom," The y/h/c stopped her mid sentence and received a side eyed glance in response, "I need to tell you something and you're totally not allowed to freak out while you're driving."

Y/M's eyes widened and her grip tightened around the steering wheel, her daughters very rarely confided in her. While she knew her youngest was safe in her promiscuity, neither of Y/M Robins' girls ever shared their secrets so for the most part she took finding out into her own hands.

"Honey," The forty four year old's calm tone was hardly comforting to the teenager, "if this is about you and Archie fooling around, your father and I figured that out a long time ago, like so long ago. Who do you think does your laundry? When your underwear starting looking like dental floss, we caught on pretty quickly."

Y/N felt like a deer in headlights, "Mum, what the hell?" Her cheeks heated to an inhuman temperature.

"It's nothing to be embarrassed about, as long as you're being safe and he's-"

"For the second time today, and I can't believe I'm saying this to you, but I am not having sex with Archie Andrews!" Y/N's high pitched voice sounded through the car. It truly was a blessing and a curse to have such open minded parents in situations like this. She thought about telling her mother the truth, but Y/M was a blabber mouth as well as a gossip, so Y/N chose to withhold certain pieces of information.

The Robins matriarch dropped the subject but didn't forget about her daughter's tone, and continued to ramble on about how odd she found Penelope Blossom and the whole Blossom family in general. "Like why on Earth is Rose in a wooden wheelchair? They know it's the twenty first century, right?"

As expected, the Robins household was once again filled with warm laughter and copious amounts of food. The topic of Jason was skimmed over, and Y/S found herself away from the dinner table. The eldest Robins sibling was currently pleading with Alice as she began shoving all of Polly's belongings in the boot of Hal's car. She couldn't comprehend life without her best friend, not after losing Jason. They were meant to be going travelling together for a year- working the worst jobs and staying up all night to watch the sun rise in different countries. But instead, Y/S's eyes were blinded by tears as she screamed down the street at the speeding car, with Polly Cooper taken out of her life indefinitely.

Y/N was oblivious to the dark inner workings of the Cooper clan, Betty's knowledge about her and Archie unbeknownst to the loved up teens. She'd spent every second not occupied by her internship trying to justify the romantic act as a fleeting moment of loneliness fuelled by alcohol. She wrote in her diary ideas on how she could win Archie back over, not knowing it was in fact, too late. Betty found herself hopelessly in love with the boy next door, unfortunately for her, the girl across the road was the only one his mind found.

Archie and Y/N washed up while their parents resided to the living room with three glasses and a bottle of white wine. The short girl turned the tap off after placing the last utensil on the draining board, flicking her sudsy hands at the boy's face. "What the-"

She didn't give him a chance to finish that thought, jumping up and wrapping her legs around his torso- planting a kiss onto his lips, then cheeks, then forehead. The two fell entranced by each other, planting pecks across nape of her neck and top of his head.

"Son," Fred's voice called out from the next room and the two immediately pulled apart, hearts beating in their ears, "we're going in a minute."

"Alright." He replied, placing his girlfriend on the floor once more.

"I wish you'd stay." Y/N pouted childishly, she meant the words entirely but hated feeling overbearing. Her life had been turned upside down this summer, it started off with her unable to fall asleep with another person next to her- now Archie's chest was her most comfortable pillow and is arms were the warmest blanket.

"Tomorrow night instead, Princess? I promised my dad I'd spend more time with him before senior year." The boy reasoned, holding her close and unknowingly feeling the exact same way, he adored holding her by her waist and pulling her close under the duvet.

"Monopoly night at yours?" She grinned and he nodded back in reply, the two sharing a final kiss in the kitchen before walking into the hallway.

Y/N felt at ease as she wished the two a goodnight and headed up to bed. She took off her tea dress and replaced it with Archie's bulldog t-shirt, managing to reach the same length on her thighs as her dress did.

Arch 🧡

I can still smell your perfume on my sheets

Tiger 💛

Marking my territory obviously x

Arch 🧡

I love it

Hope you sleep well baby x

Tiger 💛

Call me that tomorrow and we won't be sleeping so you better rest up tonight x

Arch 🧡

Whatever you say, baby x

Tiger 💛

Goodnight x

Arch 🧡

Night princess x

part eight?

wanna be tagged? just send in an ask x

[shini--chan]

Allies with an s/o with separation anxiety?

Before I start, one thing – separation anxiety is a big burden for those who have it. So, if you’re reading this and have it, I recommend you seek out treatment.

Warning: abuse of a mental condition

Yandere Allies – Discidium

America

Alfred gleaned at your medical certificate on his computer screen. From experience he knew that the medical history of a person could be very telling, and a lot could be deduced from it. Allergies could be used as torture; medication could be withheld until a trade was offered. But the really interesting part was the psychological section of such reports. They weren’t always filled out, since people didn’t always have noteworthy defects or maladies in that directed. Therefore, when they were, they were all the more insightful.

Keenly, he scrolled down to the sought after part – and wasn’t reported. There, clearly visible, stood a very particular remark:

…patient shows signs of separation anxiety…

It was rather recent too, he realized when he traced the digital footprint. And idea began to form in his mind. As he steeped his fingers together and rested his head on them, a most devious plan of action came one step closer to being realised.

Since Alfred would really turn up the charm when it would come to wooing you, you would quickly become attached to him, a fatal mistake on your behalf. For even if he wouldn’t find out about your metal state from a series of documents, he’d quickly derive the truth from your actions or make you spill the beans. He would portray himself as considerate, only concerned for your wellbeing – which would be why you’d promptly move together.

As cruel as it would be, it would be a boon for him. America wouldn’t have to be concerned about you running away. Out of that reason he wouldn’t install any elaborate locks or security measures – your chains would be intangible. However, he might use your anxiety against you as a form of punishment. Alfred would tie you up in a dark room and leave the house for some time, or threaten to do so.

Canada

Matthew didn’t have to sharpen his ears or turn around to know he was being followed. Who ever it was, was being very obnoxious and clumsy, the snow crunching with every other step. At least they were putting some effort in matching their steps with his. Yet that wasn’t enough to throw him off – it never was.

Without any forewarning, he whirled around and caught sight of the flaps of your dark coat as you leapt behind the thick truck of a fir tree. Not fast enough – Matthew had always been something of a hunter, reflexes sharp as well as his intuition. You’d never be able to beat him in a game of hide-and-seek, or successfully run away from him, not without a giant handicap.

So, you had gotten out. But why hadn’t you used the chance to at least attempt an escape and had rather chosen to tail him?

“Why are you following me? I told you to stay in the house.”

You emerged from your cover, a sheepish look on your fine face. Tangling your fingers together, you approached him, lips twisted as you pressed out.

“I simply didn’t want to be alone.”

An understatement, as he was later to find out.

Matthew would probably find out relatively fast that you’d have separation anxiety. Not because he would obsessively stalk you (he would rather gradually get to know you), but through the obvious behaviours. Whether or not you’d attempt to hide it, he would eventually catch on. And he would be delighted and worried in equal measures.

Delighted, because then he wouldn’t have to worry about you running away. Canada wouldn’t be an extrovert, having a rather reclusive nature for a New World country and a small circle of friends – so he would spend most of his time with you.

Worried, because somewhere in the back of his mind he would know that his feelings for you wouldn’t be right and that you don’t lock people away. Your behaviour would only endorse his in a twisted way.

China

Yao had never been a long sleeper. Maybe it was the centuries that he had already lived or the result of all his lifestyle choices. Nevertheless, his sleep was always brief, 3 hours usually being enough rest. That why when you started twisting and turning in a dreamy haze.

He was just starting a new chapter in his current novel when you started groaning in your sleep, uncoordinatedly swinging your arms around with increasing panic. Upon realising what was going on, he quietly laid his book away and dimmed his reading lamp a bit. Then he turned around to you and waited for you to awaken from your nightmare.

It took a few minutes, worry building in his chest in a poisonous knot as time trickled by. This was why you were always meant to be with him. You were one of the finer things in life for him – in no way tawdry, rather with a splendour and depth. A sort of medication to distract him from the atrocities of the past, present and future. He was the same to you, he was sure of that.

So when you eventually shot up, perspiration on your forehead and tears in your eyes, he felt a sick joy. One that was only amplified when you gasped: “Please don’t ever leave me!”

Family is important to him; marriage is important to you. So you having a mental condition that would cause you to have anxiety attacks at the notion of him leaving you wouldn’t be all that unappealing to him. It would just strengthen your bond, and cause you to be more drawn to him, ignoring all the red flags. Yao would just have to play all his cards right in the beginning.

However, there would also be the issue with the other people in your life – your family and friends. While he wouldn’t mind you staying in touch with your family (with certain limits) your friends would have to leave your life. Something that would be all the more difficult in your case. Still, he would set to the gruelling task of cutting people out of your life and dealing with the fall-out.

England

“You know you would be all alone if you use that knife”, he casually commented, not even turning around to regard you. To you, it seemed as if he hadn’t even lifted his eyes from the newspaper he was so avidly reading, creating the illusion of having eyes in the back of his head. Actually, he had seen your reflection in the window pane when you had started to approach him, the steel glinting marvellously in the sun-light.

It surprised you that he took such a treat so nonchalantly, him as well to an extent. Arthur guessed he wasn’t as shocked he had expected himself to be, because he had intrinsically suspected that such a scene would play out.

“Are you sure, I’d either end up in police custody or…”, you tried to reason before trailing off. You had realised that something was amiss here, and it unsettled you.

Coolly, he set away “The Times” and turned to you, watching you as your resolve crumbled and fear welled up. “Do you really think that?”, he asked.

You trembled, your convictions crumbling. Through hard lessons you had come to learn that he was far more powerful and cunning than he seemed at first glance. At the moment, you didn’t know if he was just bluffing or telling the truth. Probably a mixture of both, and that was bad enough.

Arthur would mercilessly use it against you. You being scared of being separated from him would mean he wouldn’t have to regulate his sharp tongue or his more volatile tendencies. You being scared of being separated from him could be used as a threat, actually separation as a punishment. It would be something he would constantly hold over your head as a means of making you behave and as an insurance on his behalf.

On the other hand, it would also immensely frustrate him. England would be very attached to you, possessive of you, but he would also want to have some quality time with himself. That wouldn’t really be accomplishable with you clinging to him.

France

“Please, don’t leave”, you murmured.

At first, Francis thought he had somehow misheard you, but then, when he glanced up from where he was tying his shoelaces, he saw that he hadn’t. Your eyes were glassy, the skin around your cheeks and collar bone blotchy with the beginnings of a rash and your breathing was shallow.

It puzzled him and delighted him simultaneously. He didn’t know what had provoked such a reaction – it was late at night and he was leaving. Customary at this stage in the relationship since you didn’t live together … yet. To see you already be so attached to him delighted him in a sick way. It also concerned him since he didn’t like seeing you in anguish.

“What is wrong, ma cheri?”, he inquired carefully, standing up and gently cupping your cheeks. He watched with piqued interest as you leaned into his touch, the hypertension leaving your body for a few seconds.

“I get anxious just at the thought of you leaving. Please, at least stay the night.”

Besides being delight about you being drawn to him, like all the other on this list, he would also be very concerned. You having anxiety attacks just at the notion of you leaving would immensely worry him. He would encourage you to seek out treatment, even treat you himself, just to erase the worst parts of your condition.

Apart from actually caring a lot about you, his motivation would be partially selfish. Aiding you in such a manner would convince him that he would be a good person, and in a series of complicated mental gymnastics he would overexaggerate it, and thus convince himself that his obsession with you and all the actions that would spring thereof would be good and virtuous.

Russia

A knock sounded on his door, causing him to look up from the paperwork he had been pouring over for the past two hours. Internally, he snarled. He had said he was only to be disturbed in an emergency, something he had explicitly told the guards.

Nevertheless, he sighed and called out: “State your name and business.”

The answer came immediately, dull from the monotony of the man’s voice and muffled from the wood of the door: “There is somebody here that wants to see you. Had a nervous breakdown in the entrance hall and claimed it was urgent.”

Ivan rolled his eyes at the explanation. He really wasn’t in the mood for dealing with people that had nervous breakdowns anywhere on that matter, thank you very much. He’d really have to have a word or two with the personal here.

“Send them away.”

Instead of an answer, he heard some commotion and swears from beyond the door. Frowning, he stood up, half wanting to go to the door and give the group in front of it a piece of his mind. Yet before he could take a single step or even decide what he wanted to do; the door was slammed open. You stormed in and took a running jump at him.

Ivan would be a lot like Arthur in this scenario. You having separation anxiety would be one of the few things that would completely convince him that you would never leave him or betray him. So, there would be no therapy for you – indeed, he would even take steps to worsen it.

Yet he would also want to have his privacy. Russia would have been alone for a long time, so demanding he go from solitude to constant company would be too much. You following him wherever he would go, even to work and other shady places, would make him feel guilty and remorseful.

[capituloperdido1]

ACOSAS

Chapter 4

Happy Wednesday everyone! i apologize for the following chapter, it might be a little slow because i am trying to move some of the plot forward.

I will make it up to you guys with a Mor and Emerie one-shot that will come up later today or early tomorrow! Let me know if you want to be tagged in that.

As always, enjoy and let me know if you want to be tagged!

Warnings: Mentions of violence, anxiety attacks.

Gwyn had awoken at sunrise; she had dreamt of her sister again, the last two weeks had been a repetition of the dream. After the night she had accidentally made a bargain with Azriel, she had begun to cope with the weight of the dream much better.

She put on her Valkyrie leathers on, ignoring the need in her chest to knock at Azriel's door. The shadowsinger had been practically sleeping at her door each night, waiting for her to scream, talk or run out of the door startled.

Today was different, she had awoken conscious that what she had seen in her dream was not reality. She had decided once her eyes were open that she would not bother Azriel, even if his company helped ease the terror in her guts as she thought of the voice of her sister pleading and screaming.

Today, she had decided to go run at the beach.

Gwyn had grown accustomed to roam in the palace by herself, and even leave without anyone to the coliseum and the gardens. The palace at the top of the Lux city seemed to have no one around at any time; that made her feel comfortable, and safe.

Walking down the sidewalk towards the beach, Gwyn admires the view of the dawn's sky in the reflection of the salt-water. There was such beauty on the Day Court, the waters were clearer, the grass and trees fertile and strong, the animals seemed to have brighter colors in their skins. She did not remember much of her time in Sangravah, but she knew that unlike the Night and the Day court, the temple had lacked brightness and color. Or maybe that was just how her mind remembered, she didn't know.

The beach of Lux was as white as every wall in every corner of the city, the sand was soft, the seashells were pink and purple. She wondered how other courts did not become envious at the sight of such magnificent landscapes. Rhysand had the biggest court and Tarquin the best weather, but there was no doubt that Helion had built the court to be the best at everything else.

As she began stretching for her run, she heard the roaring sound of steps behind her. A spark lit up in her chest, hoping for a certain winged-male to come up behind her.

-I see the shadowsinger finally left your side- Amanecer said.

Disappointed, but happy to have some company, she looked at the female with bright eyes, - i think its the other way around, i finally left his side-

Amanecer took seat besides her, her training clothes were the color aesthetic of the court; white, gold and beige combined in her leathers. Her long locks were tied with a black band in the back of her head. -Do you mind if i train with you?- she said.

-Not at all, i am used to having someone around anyways-.

As they stretched, Gwyn began practicing some breathing exercises for long-distance training. Valkyries had developed different breathing patterns for different types of training; each one of them to control your mind and muscles to sustain whatever work they would be put under.

-When Helion mentioned you were training as a Valkyrie i did not believe him- Amanecer said, -It has been centuries since someone recognized them as warriors. After they were massacred, it was as if everyone forgot about them. I thought no one had any records of them, i see i was wrong-.

-Did you know them?- Gwyn asked.

Amanecer smiled, -my girlfriend was a Valkyrie, her name was Fortis, she was also from Lux; she worked in the court with Helion and my mother. I was able to train with the Valkyries, i studied with them and almost became one. -

-Why didn't you?-

-I tried, but i was not able to pass the final test- Amanecer responded.

Gwyn frowned, -I have not heard of a final test in the Valkyrie records i have-.

-That's because this court has most of the records, Helion was able to save their scrolls after they were massacred. We have them in a special part of this library-.

Gwyn felt her eyes open wide and her mouth gaping, -Can i see them?! I have been searching for more stories about them! I want to be able to honor them in our training back home-.

Amanecer's eyes found hers, her smile spreading as she heard Gwyn -I will take you there after we take our run- She said as she stood, - i will also teach you how to continue to focus on your breathing as you exercise, that will help your organs get stronger. It will help you channel the strength of your movements-. Amanecer began running as she finished her sentence, not looking back.

Gwyn followed her, writing down all the questions she would ask the female later in the morning in her mind.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

-Look at this bastard- someone said. -He believes he has the right to see the light, he should be kept here all day. No one should be able to see him, it would shame our family-.

Male laughter startled him a he opened his eyes.

He was ready to dream about it today, he always was ready.

But as his eyes opened in the dream he did not see himself kneeling in the ground looking up at his brothers; he was standing, looking down at a frail boy with long-curly hair and small broken wings.

The boy looked up, his honey-golden eyes and sharp features revealing the face of his brother.

Cassian was looking up to him, blood on his nose, his hands extended towards Azriel as voices besides him laughed.

Azriel heard a bump, and another body was placed besides Cassian. Long, dirty blonde hair and small female body keeled in front of him.

Mor.

Her brown eyes showed despair, they looked at him pleading. She trembled as she saw him.

Both kids looked at him with fear; their bodies bruised and bloody, their hands extended.

He realized as he moved his hands towards them that he was not in control of his own body. That these were not his actions.

In his right hand he had a lit up torch, in his left he had oil.

One male grabbed Cassians hand's, pullling towards Azriel.

Unable to do or say anything, he dropped oil on top Cassians hands, he neared the torch to his tiny hands...

As Cassian screamed in pain, Azriel tried and failed to stop, move away from his brother.

But he couldn't.

It wasn't long until he did the same to Mor, watching her fall into her knees as the pain of being burnt consumed her.

In his mind, he screamed and tried with all his might to move away from them, to stop inflicting pain.

But as Azriel saw Cassian's and Mor's hands being burnt to open flesh, he realized that he was in the body of one of his brothers. He was finally the monster he always thought himself to be.

Shooting upright Azriel lifted himself from the bed, startled and with tears in his eyes. He moved towards the bathroom, looking for cold water that would confirm this was real.

He remember how vivid and real that dream had been, the smell of the room, the feeling of the torch and the oil in his skin. As if the dream had been a reality.

But looking down to his hands he confirmed that it had been just that. A dream.

As he prepared himself a bath, he began recalling every instance of the dream. It had not been normal, the realistic feel, the fact that he was seeing Cassian and Mor so clearly.

He had met Mor as a teen, never as a child.

Something was wrong.

He had begun to suspected when Gwyn told him that the nightmares with her sister had continued, that they got more and more realistic as each night passed. As if with each passing night, the dreams became more the reality; and one day, neither of them would be able to awake from his nightmares.

Azriel had never dreamt of being the one inflicting pain. Whenever he dreamt about his brothers or his mom being burnt, he was on the sidelines doing nothing. He was never torturing.

Something was wrong, and he would find out. Before the nightmares would make him and Gwyn never sleep again.

-.-.-.-.-.-.

Valkyries lived all across Prythian, they had a temple in every court, and all high lords had been forced to recognized them as warriors. According to the books Amanecer had lent her, Valkyries had been around for millennia; they had fought besides the High King, had endured the first wars and some of them had made it to some of the wars of the last five centuries.

To the world, they had been eradicated after a surprise attack in the war of five hundred years. Some of them had survived the war, going into exile from all societies. A few of the high lords of the time, Autumn, Dawn, Spring, and Night had trashed or burnt every record of their existence. Others, like the Summer and Day court, had taken the scrolls and weapons from certain temples in their courts into safe-houses.

There were theories that the attack had been an inside job from some courts that wanted to stop the females from gaining popularity among women in patriarchal societies.

In the night court, according to the law of 300 years ago, spreading the story of the Valkyries was prohibited and would be punished by death.

Some high lords had fought side by side with the warriors; Helion had been one of them. One of the scrolls revealed that the High Lord had mandated that all young women would have training in at least one form of Valkyrie fighting style. He had even made a female unit just for his safety.

As she read, she realized that all of Prythian had done an excellent job of forgetting the power and influence of the female warriors. Amanecer had explained that everything they owned concerning the Valkyries had to be protected because of certain groups that wanted to erase them from history.

The book she currently read revealed several locations around the country where temples had existed. Each Valkyrie temple specialized in one form of fighting, they trained for different weather conditions, enemies and defense strategies according to where the temple was located.

A symbol marked with silver ink marked the temple Gwyn guessed was the principle one, across borders of the Spring and Summer court:

The temple of Ivor is in a forest thick with trees, slippery leaves, and rough vines; with a hot and humid temperature. The combined scent of vegetation, moisture, soil, and decaying plants and wood will be overbearing as you walk towards it. The location of Ivor had been decided in order to maintain people away from it.

Ivor is a place were only few warriors live at, but all warriors must survive.

There is a creature, deep in this forest that will test your bravery and will. Not many are able to survive it.

Only the worthy will pass to Ivor, only the worthy will become Valkyrie.

Heavy and slow footsteps pulled her out of her reading trance, as she lifted her head, she was welcomed with the sight of a winged male with a face looking towards the floor and hair covering his honey eyes.

-What's wrong?- she asked him

He took a moment to respond, walking closer to her and closing some distance between them. -I had a bad night- he said quietly.

She stood, bringing a chair to her current space of work and tapping it so he would sit next to her. -Do you want to talk about it?-

-No.- He said, quiet and harsh.

-Hmm.... would you like to go relieve some stress?- she said, trying to lighten his mood.

-If you don't mind, i would like to go train right now. Maybe that would help- he answered.

She smiled slightly, and nodded. -Go Azriel, i am sure i can be by myself a little longer.-

Without saying anything else, Azriel turned his back to her and walked out of the library and left.

Gwyn tried to go back to reading, tried to involve herself into the story as much as she could. But she was failing to read more than one sentence without thinking back to Azriel and his sad eyes.

She was worried about him.

He took everything that happened to him too hard.

He thought of himself so low.

Sometimes, she worried that he would not be able to move on. That he was not going to ever be happy.

She stood, putting the books in a pile she would likely not come back to until the next day.

She walks toward the door with one goal in mind: she is going to make Azriel smile, no matter what.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

The rock weights are heavy against Azriels sweaty shoulders, he squats low for the fiftieth time, trying to feel the pain as he releases all his emotions through the exercise.

He has been training for two hours, running, lifting, jumping and swimming. Doing everything in his power to stop thinking, stop picturing the nightmare in his mind.

He has not been able to.

-Oi! you're going to break your back if you lift more rocks man- Helion says.

He looks towards the high lord, dressed in his typical white robes and golden accessories. He carries a small envelope, he is coming towards him.

-I have good news my friend- he says, extending the paper towards him.

Azriel grabs the paper, and opens it without responding to Helion.

-It's an invitation to the next big event of Prythian, Cassian and Nesta are finally doing it. - Helion says,

Azriel had guessed that neither Cassian nor Nesta were going to come and give the invitation personally. They were probably too busy to stop by and check on them. Besides, the ceremony would be in less than a month; they were seeing them soon.

Azriel was glad that Cassian was not here, if he saw his brother he would probably fall down to his knees and beg him to forgive him. Forgive him for something he had not yet done.

-Thank you, Helion- Azriel said, going back to his training.

-What's got your wings on a twist now? - Helion asked

He rolled his eyes in response, -nothing, stop being such a busy body-

Helion smiled, getting dangerously close to him, -you use to like it when i was a busy body-.

Azriel couldn't help but to look at him amused, -stop flirting, you can't handle me- he dropped the weights and walked towards the water station. -Actually, i do have a question.... Have you had any unusual dreams, as of late? Anything that seems too real, to be true?-

The male looked at him surprised, -well... yeah. The last few weeks I've had terrible nightmares, I've barely been able to sleep-

-When did they start exactly-

-Well... when Rhys informed me that you guys were coming. At first they were just glimpses during my afternoon nap, but lately is every time i sleep. I feel like i am inside of the dream, actually living it. But, i wonder, why are you asking me?-

Azriel served the High Lord a cup of water, pouring one for himself, - Gwyn and i have been having them as well. She has been dreaming about the same thing nonstop. getting progressively worse. In my case, well, i had a nightmare that was out of the ordinary yesterday-.

-So what's the hunch?- Helion said.

-They are not normal, i think someone.... or something is causing them. And i think it has to do with the trove, the fact that we are looking for it. I think we should be careful, if there something that we should've learned by now is that magic is not subjective to what we know. There is so much that exists, so much we don't know about it. And we also have so much enemies, that we should not be surprised if they are doing something to us for trying to get somewhere we should not.-

Helion nodded, - alright, tell me what to do. I will help in any way i can, you're the spy after all-.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Azriel was stretching when Gwyn arrived.

She had guessed that he needed time by himself, but she was not giving up on talking to him yet.

-It seems as if an earthquake passed through this training field- she said, walking towards him.

He smiles as he looks up towards her, -I had to try out the equipment, before you go ahead and break it-.

Her heart flutters as he sees the half smile he throws her way, she had come all this way to make him smile and she had done it in less than two minutes. -I do not break the equipment, it is simply bad quality and using ti properly destroys it. The Night court is just too cheap to buy it-.

He stood, walking towards her as he used a towel to wipe the sweat off his brow. -I will tell your High Lord and Lady that you just called him cheap-

-You would not dare!- she said.

-Try me.-

She dropped her gaze slightly, feeling the heat rising to her cheeks at his proximity. -Are you... feeling better?- she asks, trying to ignore the filthy thoughts in her mind at the sight of the beautiful sweaty male in front of her.

His smile falters, -a little... I needed to sweat it out.-

-What happened? You were really affected by it- she says.

He stays quiet, looking deeply at her.

A minute passes, he does not answer. Instead, he exhales and says -we are working on our bargain today, there is something i want to show you-.

He does not want you to know, she realizes.

She drops the subject and smiles, -where? are we going today?-

-We are going to a board walk around the city, later tonight. It has some shops open, but it won't be crowded- he explains. -then tomorrow we can try to practice going near my mom. If you are comfortable flying towards the Night Court with me-.

-You know i wont back down, sounds like a deal shadowsinger- she said, leaving him to start getting ready for the night.

She wished she had Nesta besides her to get ready.

Nesta could've told her how in the mother she was to put on the dress she had in front of her.

The deep green gown decorated with white flowers had been a gift from her friend, who had encouraged to wear something other than her training clothes and her priestess robe. The dress was long, and it seem to be loose fitted with a somewhat tight bodice. The trick was to tight it in the back, the straps of the dress were supposed to form a corset like back that would be tight according to the body of the person using it.

She was nervous, freaking out even.

She could not believe she was finally going to a city, walking around with people besides her.

Two months ago this would have not happened, she would've never left the library. But now here she was, getting ready to hang out with the man she loved while also wearing normal clothes.

Gwyn looked at herself in the mirror, looking at the dress falling down to her knees, the long crimson hair that she had brushed so it would fall straight around her face. She looked different, powerful, pretty, happy.

Something is missing, she thought as she went towards her jewelry box.

She had not worn the pendant since it had arrived in her room all those months ago in solstice, it was the first gift she had received in the two years she had been in the library.

It was her most priced possession.

As she placed the flower pendant in her neck, she dreamt of finding whoever had given it to her. She had asked Nesta and Emerie about, both looking confused when she mentioned how it had arrived to her rooms.

The necklace was beautiful, the golden flower had a small amethyst stone as the center of the pendant making it delicate and elegant.

She looked at herself again, and smiled.

She gathered her courage and left the rooms, hoping this night would also bring her courage to get closer to the man waiting for her at the entrance of the palace.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The sky in Lux was rather overwhelming, during the day it was bright and it shined excessively. At night, the stars seemed like another sun came into view, many parts of the city did not need to use oil lamps to light up their streets, the stars bright enough.

Azriel hated seeing something so bright when he was trying to be as broody as possible.

Even with all the hours at the training field, he had not been able to forget or evade the pain in his chest as he thought of the dream that haunted him.

He was such a hypocrite, two weeks ago he followed Gwyn everywhere to make sure she would not suffer from her nightmares. But here he was, burying himself in his feelings and ignoring anyone who wanted to help him.

He knew Helion and Gwyn would not judge him by his dream, but he was too embarrassed and angry at himself to tell anyone what he had seen.

He should be smarter, knowing it was just that... a dream.

But it had felt so real.

He had actually wanted to send a letter to Cassian to ask if he was okay.

Mor... he would evade Mor for a little while more. When he saw her again he would probably not talk about his dream, but they would finally have that talk he had needed for so long.

Azriel ran his fingers through his hair, pulling some strands to make himself distract that feeling in his chest that had been messing with him since the morning.

He would start investigating, the dreams were not normal. There was something wrong and he would find out what, before he could see anyone else being hurt by his hands in his dreams.

He exhaled, letting his mind travel to the flashback of the dream. Drowning himself in the pain of being alive.

The doors at the palace entrance opened, and a gust of wind settling him into reality.

Light, fast step sounded nearer as he lifted his head.

-I am so sorry I'm late, i could not find this damn exit anywhere- Gwyn said.

His eyes widened as he took her in.

His shadows darken and begged him to fly towards her, embrace her.

She had change out of her training outfit into a beautiful green dress, her hair down and flowing as she ran towards him.

But what caught his attention was not the dress, or the shoes.

The priestess wore the pendant he had given her in solstice. The golden chain jumping up and down in her neck as she neared him.

He thought he heard Gwyn say something as she stopped in front of him. But he was not listening, focusing his stare in the neck of the woman in front of him.

Something in his chest fluttered, happiness rising in him for the first time in the day.

His stupid male pride growing, Gwyn was wearing something of his around her neck.

A declaration his mind was not ready to understand but his heart pushed forward.

He finally moved his eyes to see her, chocked with how only three weeks of being in a new court has made Gwyn shine so brightly.

She seems happier, stronger, and even more beautiful.

He feels a smile appearing in his face, broad and full as he takes her deep blue eyes looking at him.

She is so brave.

She catches him smiling, and her eyes shine even brighter. A smile of plump lips and white teeth forming on her angelic face.

Right there, makes a promise to himself to try harder, to follow her example.

To do anything to bring her to smile like that again and again until it sticks forever.

TAGLIST: @imsointobooks , @gwynkyrie , @trashforazriel

[aspiringharlot]

Redolence

You’ve got a pretty lame quirk, but it manages to catch someone’s attention.

Word Count: 5.8k

Okay, second attempt at this whole y/n fanfic idea…I also tried formatting the this beginning bit,  hope you’re still bearing with me!

Trigger warnings: Stalking behavior, noncon/ noncon turned to consent, public sex, name calling (let me know if I forgot something)

Tagged for: @palbabor-writes, @tod0oki, @kugutsuu

p.s. @cupcake-rogue, I know that this isn’t explicitly yandere/incel focused but I figured I’d direct your attention anyways!

For Palbabor, a sprinkle of Hawks!

 Was Hawks the kind of guy to play it fast and loose? No, not even close. Sure, he acted out the charismatic, playboy persona crafted by his PR team, but a careless man he was not. Hawks had self-control, and a sense of self discipline, he’d never just make brash decisions capable of jeopardizing his standing as a hero.

And yet he’d entangled himself in this situation.

It all started when he caught a whiff of you.

Being a Hawk-man had many upsides. Hawks had phenomenal vision, unmatched speed and reflexes, and even telepathic control over his wings, though, that last ability may not be as Hawk related as the others. Still, despite the multitude of benefits, Hawks, like many birds, had a weak olfactory sense.

He’d lived his whole life like that, never seeing the downside to this facet of his life. How could he? Can’t miss what you never had, right?

And then, on a sweltering day approximately two months ago, he smelt a distinct scent.

He had no reference to judge the scent. How could he explain it? It was… good?  

That was your quirk. You’d always lamented the lameness of your quirk, an emitter type known as “Redolence”. You could inspire interest and appreciation in others through your pheromones, in most cases only minutely affecting another’s perception of you. This had helped you out a few times. Before job interviews or dates, you’d typically avoid wearing perfume or using scented soaps, making you more likely to receive a call back, but that was really all it could do.

 You’d never put much thought towards how those with a weak sense of smell would perceive it. Surely, they’d be unable to smell your pheromones and would go on with their day, right?

Wrong.

The scent of your pheromones penetrated all noses, regardless of their capabilities.

It had been months since that fateful patrol in which Hawks had smelt a scrunchie you’d lost on the sidewalk. The smell at first caught him off guard. It wasn’t often that he smelt something, let alone all the way up in the air and that made him curious. He dove lower to the ground to see what that smell could possibly be. Perched at the top of a building he scanned the street side with his trained eyes.

He didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. An average crowd of people milling on with their day, seemingly oblivious to the mouthwatering aroma encompassing the neighborhood.

Really, Hawks should’ve just went back to his patrol. Nothing terribly strange was happening, he just smelt something.

‘Get back to work, Hawks.’ He thought to himself. ‘wasting time now means you’ll get your route done later and that means less personal time when it’s finally over with.’

The hero stood, readying himself to soar back in the air.

Instead he dove down.

The action wasn’t especially discreet, and several citizens flocked to Hawks, asking for pictures or autographs. He dealt with them as he would any other fan, patiently but not allowing himself to be pushed around. Eventually, as they were leaving him to himself, the blond reached out and asked a pair of friends if they’d smelt the pleasant aroma floating through the area.

They looked to each other confused before the shorter of the pair gained a spark of recognition in her eyes.

“Oh, do you mean that super sweet smell? It was a little stronger back the way we came but it wasn’t all that unusual.”

“Hm.” Hawks grunted gruffly, before seeing the taken aback faces of the pair. Misstep, that grunt was too aggressive, mask it with a more carefree response.

“Oh uh, sorry girls, I suspect there’s an illegal quirk user right in the area.” He pushed out a hardy, fake chuckle. “Not that’s anything a pair of beautiful young girls like yourself needs to worry about.”

They began to blush and stammer, allowing Hawks the perfect opportunity to exit the conversation and head off towards the area the short girl referenced. What an easy distraction a simple complement could make.

As he moved on, he smelled that scent becoming stronger and more powerful. His heart was beating, and butterflies began to form in his stomach. What was this smell? And why was he so desperate to find the source of it?

Eventually the scent began to fade slightly. Shit, he must’ve walked right past it. A game of hot and cold began, Hawks walking in circles like an idiot to track down the source of the smell. And then he found it.

A scrunchie, pink and velvety with prominent ruffles.

That was all, just a hair tie. Mystery solved, pack it up, time to move on.

Hawks was pathetic, feeling like a freak, as in one fluid motion he bent at the waist to collect the scrunchie. He held it to close to his face, mouthwatering as something stirred inside him. The scent emitting from the hair-tie was what he’d always thought cherry pie would smell like. Was this sugar? If it was, he had no idea how bakers managed their day to day lives, the scent alone making him feel increasingly excited.

Was he really going to do this? Snatch a hair tie from the sidewalk grate and keep it like a desperate weirdo?

The scrunchie was tucked into one of the many pockets lining the inside of Hawks’ coat.

From that day on, huffing that hair tie became a part of Hawks’ routine. After a long day he’d come home to shower and tend to his wings before reveling in the scent. It came to a point where he’d please himself, in one hand holding the scrunchie to his face as the other stroked his cock. He didn’t know how, but he had fallen in love with a scent.

Tragically, overtime, the smell faded like autumn leaves losing their crunch. He was going to have to stop relying on the scrunchie.

No, he was addicted to this smell, he couldn’t just let it fade out from his life. He thought back to the day he found it. It was left behind in public, maybe there were cameras which had captured the owner of this hair tie. Cameras that captured you.

Being a top pro hero gave Hawks much leeway- contacting the owners of nearby businesses and asking for copies of their security footage inspired no suspicion.  Within a day he had several angles of perspective on the drop sight. He stuck an intern at his agency with the responsibility of reviewing the footage to detect who had dropped the footage.

Five hours later, Hawks saw you for the first time.

His heart fluttered. He saw a beautiful, no- a gorgeous girl resign herself to the side of the path as she dug through a small bag, digging for something.  In frustration she pulls the bag open wider and ruffles more intensely until finally she pulls out a phone. In the roughness, the scrunchie he had held so close for two months now, slipped out of her purse. She hadn’t noticed, instead checking her phone only to noticeably sigh in relief as a car approached her. She entered the car and it drove away.

Finally, Hawks could put a face to a smell. Now he just had to find you.

That poor intern began to reevaluate his position as the agency when Hawks told him to track you down- Hawks wanted an entire file, complete with a name, date of birth, address, summative history. The whole works.

It took several days, but the intern got all the information and organized it in a neat manilla folder, giving it to Hawks as soon as it was completed.

When Hawks received the folder, he could hardly contain his excitement. This was it, using this file he could track down the smell and subsequently the person that he’d been obsessing over for the past two months. After his intern left, he raced to his room, digging the scrunchie from the plastic baggie it was kept in to sniff at it as he read your file. He tore it open right after pulling his pants down to his ankles. He immediately began palming at his erection, softly exhaling as he began to read over your file.

--------

 (Photograph of you)

(clipped behind, are nudes that were obtained from your phone)

-------

Hawks stopped himself immediately to look slack jawed at the nude photographs of you, squeezing himself around the base of his cock to remind him of restraint. He laid the photo out next to the file to reference as he massaged his cock.

---------

Name: (y/n) (l/n)

Date of Birth: (y/D.O.B.)

Gender: Female

Sex: Female

Relationship Status: Single, no romantic partners or interests.

Sexuality: Unclear

Quirk: Redolence (emitter) - produces mood altering hormones capable of influencing perceptions of others. Low calculated threat as a combatant. Possible use in support position.

­­­­­­­------------------

‘Well,’ thought Hawks. ‘That certainly explains how I’ve gotten into this situation.’ He pumped his cock slowly, savoring the information he was learning.

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

Legal status: Immigrated Citizen – all paperwork has been processed and completed as of 12/14/20XX

Criminal History: Nonexistent

Address: (Nearby address)

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

‘She’s been that close this whole time?’  Hawks couldn’t help but picture you, walking down his street, your quirk turning heads as people wondered why they wanted you so badly. The inadequacy those strangers would feel when they saw Hawks swoop down to lift you off the street and into the air. Hawks felt even more turned on.

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

 Summary: (L/n) works at (place of employment) as (job position). Current income is ($$) per year. Has scarcely active social media profile. Not a public figure. Little contact with friends and family (out of country, no files available to draw information from). No roommates. No house pets. I.P. tracking shows recent queries centered around, heat death of the universe, 20th century American criminal Ed Gein, plane tickets to (your state), and pornographic material containing Consenting Non-Consent (CNC), public sex, indecent exposure, chikan and degradation.

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

‘Oh boy,’ Hawks felt his cock twitch. He couldn’t believe that you’d be such a naughty little slut. He took a deep inhalation, melting at the fading scent. Right now, all he had was this scrunchie, but soon he’d have you. The reassurance made him being to pump his cock faster, the member throbbing in his calloused hands.

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

Medical history shows she is prone to cavities, complications have arisen from improper healing of a torn muscle. Currently attending physical therapy to aid recovery. P.T. backed by health insurance.

Schedule:

Sunday- Grocery shops at approximately 11:20. Returns home to clean and watch television. No notable pattern excluding these events.

Monday- Attends work from 8:00 to 17:00. Purchases takeout on way home. No notable pattern excluding these events.

Tuesday- Attends work from 8:00 to 17:00. Returns home. Exits at 20:00, goes to building laundry office. No notable pattern excluding these events.

Wednesday- Attends physical therapy from 10:00 to 11:00. Attends work from 12:00 to 20:00. No notable pattern excluding these events.

Thursday- Attends work from 8:00 to 17:00. Returns home. No notable pattern excluding these events.

Friday- Goes to (specific area) public park at approximately 12:00. Remains for approximately two hours. Returns home and orders take-out. No notable pattern excluding these events.

Saturday- No notable pattern detected.

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

Hawks was more than pleased with the information that had been gathered on you. And the schedule, that gave him more than enough time to plan out your first meeting. He could see it now, this Friday he’ll swoop through the park and casually run into you.

“Oh, hey there pretty lady, its funny running into you here, I think I saw you a few months ago…” You would start blushing and stammering right away, you’d feel so honored that the Pro Hero Hawks had remembered you, even if you hadn’t technically met.

From there he’d pull out the scrunchie that you lost and play it off like he’d seen you drop it recently. He’d say something like, “Anyway- I saw you drop this a few minutes ago and I thought I’d catch up and return it to you.” He’d hold it out to you and get a little closer than would be strictly necessary. You’d look into his eyes and Hawks could tell you how beautiful you are. He’d offer you out to coffee, he knows you have nothing planned afterwards so there’s no way you’ll say no.

By the time you finished your coffee you’d be in love with Hawks, equally infatuated with him as he was you. You’d shyly ask if he was busy and if maybe he wouldn’t mind walking you home… As soon as you got there, you’d offer yourself to him, stripping off your clothes to reveal your sensual breasts. He’d eagerly be led to the bedroom and immediately work himself down to your core, hoping for a chance to smell your sex. He’d lap at your folds, savoring the taste as he’d dip is tongue past the ring of muscle protecting your hole.

You’d mewl beneath him or pant his name and just beg him to fuck you with his cock. The sounds you’d make underneath him, downright sinful. You’d cum on his cock and flood the room with the smell of your pheromones, making him cum right inside you before he’d collapse on top of you to breath in your scent at the source.

In reality, Hawks was pumping his cock fast, occasionally twisting is hand to change up the rhythm, getting closer and closer as he dropped the scrunchie to instead hold the nude photograph. As he imagined the way you’d beg for his cock he came, hard, shooting white ribbons of cum right onto the picture of you.

He smiled.

Yes, Hawks had this whole thing planned perfectly. This encounter was going to end spectacularly.

When Friday came, Hawks came to the park an hour early, keeping an eye out for you just incase you’d decided to come early. The pro hero was circling the circumference of the park, his eyes darting from person to person until finally he saw you. Or, more accurately, smelled you.

You were entering the park from the west end, in your arms a yoga mat and a large opaque water bottle. On your body was a pants tightening outfit- black high-rise spandex cupping your legs and ass with a white cropped t-shirt straining against your tits. The little shirt was tied into a little knot in the front, the shin white fabric doing nothing to hide your black sports bra, enticing glances from men and women alike. Your hair was another matter of interest for Hawks, the soft strands clipped out of your eyes, only allowing the barest element to frame your face.  Most importantly, you smelled great, Hawks could tell from all the way up in the air. The smell was not the same as the smell of your scrunchie- that one had been more, flirty somehow. Today all that Hawks could smell was that underlying scent that screamed ‘you’. Hawks didn’t mind though, he’d work your quirk’s full potential out of you when the time came.

The way he was getting excited, Hawks didn’t think he could wait any longer, he had to go down and make contact.

He managed to hold off another 7 minutes, allowing you to position yourself in a secluded area of the park, ideal for yoga and meditation. At this point he’d grounded himself to be more discreet and was casually approaching you, not that you noticed with your back to him and eyes closed.

For a tense moment, Hawks stood silently in front of you, breathing quiet. His heart pounded, ba-dum, ba-dum.

“Hey there.” You jumped in surprise, eyes shooting open as you gasped out an awkward sort of “guUh!” noise.

“Whoops!” Hawks chuckled merrily. “Didn’t mean to spook ya there.” When you looked at him, it took you a moment to process that there was a pro-hero in front of you. As you looked up at him, you took notice of his stance. He was calm, standing languidly and unbothered. He must have just felt like acknowledging you and now that he had, he’d probably move on with his day.

“Hey, don’t I know you from somewhere?” you blanched. Did he know you?

“ah, no, uh… you must be thinking of someone else.”

“No, No, I wouldn’t forget a pretty face like yours.” He winked confidently. ‘What?’ you thought.

“What?” you said.

“Where was it… Oh!” He snapped, pointing at you. “On the sidewalk outside (business), about two month’s back, yeah, that’s it! (y/n)! That’s your name!”

You furrowed your brow trying to remember what the hell he was talking about. Sure, you’d gone through that area several times in the past three months, you had to in order to get to your physical therapy appointment, but you couldn’t recall seeing Hawks there. You’d never seen the guy in person to begin with!

“Uh, yeah maybe…” Hawks smirked at you.

“Oh, it’s fine if you don’t remember,” his face switched from playful to informative. “there was that villain with the memory erasing quirk, he probably hit you.” You supposed that made sense. Perhaps you did have a conversation with Hawks at some point, that’d explain why he knew your name.

“So-ahem,” you cleared your throat. “what’d we talk about?”

“Well, I saw you drop a few dollars and a hair tie from your purse and decided to do the heroic thing and return them to you” Hawks became carefree again. “We were chatting, and this little stand offered me some chicken kebabs- I asked if you could have some too and we just chatted until that villain came through. If I remember correctly, we were talking about exchanging numbers.”

You widened your eyes. Not only had you been approached by Hawks in the past, but you’d been about to get his number? You weren’t even a huge fan of hero’s, how had that happened?

“Wow, uh, I don’t know what to say.” You giggled.

“You know, I’m free at the moment, mind if I sit and enjoy the park with you?” Without waiting on a response Hawks plopped himself down near you, his great, red wings flexing for a moment before relaxing.

“Oh, uhm, sure…” Now you weren’t sure what to do. You were clearly here to do yoga, but would it be rude to keep doing it while someone was with you?

As if he read your mind, Hawks opened his mouth again, saying, “Don’t mind me, you can go on with your yoga.”

Now it’d be rude if you didn’t continue. You moved into a high lunge pose, stretching your thigh muscles before groaning just a little. Your sore muscle still experiencing some pain.

“Oh, was that the leg you were going to physical therapy for?” he asked innocently. You looked over to see him sprawled on the grass watching you.

“Yeah… I told you I was going to physical therapy?” Something about the way he said that ground your gears. Come to think of it, you only went through that way as you where heading to your appointment. Why would you stop and chat with Hawks beforehand and risk being late?

And, who would be serving chicken kebabs at 9:30 in the morning?

Something was off.

“Oh yeah!” Hawks brought you from your thoughts. “You were talking about how you couldn’t hang out long, you had your appointment to get to. Heck, you left in such a hurry I forgot to hand that hair tie back to you… hmmm… I wonder if…” Hawks began shrugging his coat off before rummaging through the pockets.

So, it seemed possible that you may of ran into Hawks at some point, but he must have been lying about the kebab thing… or maybe he was exaggerating to justify his interest.

“I knew it!” He pulled a pink scrunchie from one of his pockets and sure enough you did recognize it. It certainly was yours.

“Your scrunchie, m’lady.” He scooted closer to you and offered it back.

“Thanks…” you accepted it, wrapping the tie around your wrist twice. You noticed that some of the material seemed worn and stretched, like it had been handled a lot. “I’m surprised you kept it this long.”

“Me too,” Hawks laughed. “To be honest, I forgot all about it till just now.” His face was lit with a cheery smile. He held the smiled uncomfortably long and you weren’t so sure he was telling the truth.

Similarly, you were holding your yoga position too long. When you went to shift your position you grunted, your butt hitting the ground as you were destabilized.

You let out a high pitched, “Shit…” as you felt pain envelope your thigh.

“Oh, fuck, are you okay?” Hawks asked, sitting up and moving even closer to you. It was kind of weird how he kept scooting closer. Brief conversation or not, you were still strangers.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” you assured. “This happens sometimes, I just have to rub the area a bit, it’s just a pain doing it myself-“

“I could do it.” Hawks eyes kept moving from your inner thigh to your face and back again.

“heh, uh, no thanks…” you tried to laugh it off.

“No really, let me at it. You’ll feel much better.”

“Uh, thanks for the offer but, it’s not that bad.”

Okay, that was weird too. That was really weird. People don’t just offer to… do that, nor do they insist, and he seemed completely serious.

You were starting to feel not so safe around Hawks. Several things weren’t adding up. A villain with a quirk that could alter a person’s memory… When would you even be hit with that quirk? You did make it to your appointment- Hawks said so himself, so at what point would you get hit with a quirk like that?

The two of you sat it tense silence, not that Hawks acknowledged it. At the moment, he was just happy to be close to your scent. It would’ve been ideal if you’d let him in between your legs to massage your sore muscle but, could he really complain right now? No, even if this was awkward, he could see this working out for him.

“So, Hawks uh, how did I get hit with a memory loss quirk?” you asked.

“I don’t know that one, I just figured you had since you didn’t remember me and there was a villain with that quirk in the area, you must have been hit.” He seemed nonchalant and by all means, trustworthy; he was a hero for crying out loud!

But you couldn’t shake the gut feeling that something was wrong. Hawks would look at you, smiling charismatically, but you couldn’t help but feel like a chicken trapped in a fox’s den.

You’d really rather be going.

“Well, um…” you awkwardly start. “I think I’m going to head out…”

Hawks tilted his head as he looked at you. “What? Are you kidding? You’ve only been here for 20 minutes…Oh, don’t tell me that your one of those people who only does yoga in the park to say that they did yoga in the park.” His inflection. Were you imagining the bite you heard in his tone?

“O- oh, no, it’s just ah… I’m not feeling well…” You started to gather your stuff together, rolling up your mat before starting to stand. Before you fully straightened yourself out you started to sink back down, your leg muscle throbbing. You yelped and Hawks caught you, lowering you back down.

“’Not that bad’, huh?” Hawks chucked and he started to lightly push you back. You resisted, anxiously blabbering, “No, Hawks, I’ll be fine- I think I’ll feel better once I’m back home.”

You couldn’t stop him from pinning you down. Hawks straddled your good leg, holding the knee of your bad so you couldn’t close your legs. Humiliatingly, a single feather flew to rest on your forehead, subtly preventing you from lifting your upper body.

With his free hand, Hawks tenderly explored your inner thigh first only rubbing you through your spandex with the pads of his fingertips.

Alarms were ringing in your head, red alert, red alert, stranger pinning you down to creep on your thighs

“Hawks please-“ you tried to start.

“If you’d just let me finish this, you’d be out before you even realize I touched you.”

You tried being quiet, maybe submission would aid you.

Hawks got rougher with his caresses, making you whimper underneath him. Frustratingly, the position he’d pinned you in was… kind of erotic. There was this handsome man, holding you down, forcing your legs open and subsequently exposing your core. Your brain was recognizing the pattern, remembering all the porn you watched, the erotica you read. Your pussy started getting wet.  You hoped to God that your quirk wouldn’t activate- it’d only make Hawks more aggressive.

You didn’t realize the half of it.

Because Hawks could smell your pheromones, inviting him to continue, making his head feel dizzy with excitement. His mouth watered and he began to lower closer and closer to your legs. Closer to your pussy.

“Oh (y/n),” he crooned. “Your leggings are getting in the way, I hope you don’t mind if I just-“ a feather detached itself from his wing, sharpening and dragging across your pantleg. A slit was torn in the fabric, exposing your leg to him.

“Hawks- please stop!”

He didn’t stop. Instead you felt his hands wander to the slit to physically rip a bigger hole, making the leggings a mere scrap of spandex. The action revealed your clothed cunt and the increased intensity of your pheromones drove Hawks wild, making him as feral as an opossum. He gave up the pretense of massaging your sore muscles and cupped your pussy with his palm, feeling your heat and wetness through your panties.

For a moment he just held it there before taking the hand to his nose and inhaling deeply.

And then you understood.

The scrunchie wrapped around your wrist, you last wore the thing on a hookup. Your pheromones must have gotten into the fibers of the fabric. If you lost it… and Hawks found it…No wonder Hawks had held on to it for so long… the fucker developed an obsession with the scent of your pheromones.

And then, he sees you, in public- of course he’d try to initiate something with you… Shit.

You’re taken back to the reality of your situation when you feel the scrape of a feather against your shirt. That- That fucker was cutting open your shirt! How the fuck were you going to get home in a bra and panties… soaked panties at that.

Rip Rip

Okay, scratch that, now all your clothes were shredded and unwearable.

Hawks finally changed positions, swinging around to hold you in a 69 position. The action kept you pinned down even when you jumped in surprise at the sensation of Hawks dragging his tongue over your pussy lips. He didn’t hesitate to dive in, eating your pussy like a man starved of nutrients for 12 to 13 days.

You hated to admit it… but it felt fantastic. The feeling of his stubble dragging against your skin while he alternated between licking and sucking your clit was making your pussy gush. The taboo of it all as well. Fuck, this shit was all your kinks rolled into one.

You wanted to hate what was happening. Hawks, he was overpowering you- making you feel small and weak. This was wrong…

Fuck it, you were horny.

To Hawks’ surprise you started palming at his erection, trying to work the zipper down to free his cock. Despite his surprise, he was thankful. Hawks Junior was starting to feel like a caged bird, trapped in his pants the way they were.

He was doubly as thankful when he felt your small, soft hand start working his cock, pumping it, letting the tip rub against the skin of your breast. Hawks shakily exhaled, taking a moment’s break from eating you out to focus of the pleasurable sensations overtaking his cock.

“Hawks~” you whined. “You’re wearing too many clothes…”

“Huh?” he said, dumbfounded for a moment.

“Take your clothes off.” He looked down at himself, raising his eyebrows when he compared his state of dress to yours.

“Oh, yeah, right!” He was quick to strip down, undoing his belt and allowing his pants to fall to the ground. His goggles, coat and shirt followed suit and you took in the sight before you.

In a moment of confidence, Hawks fully extended his wings and allowed you to look upon his toned body.  His muscles were well defined and displayed the power housed within his skin.

It made you want to blow him.

You got on your knees before him, nuzzling his cock before taking it into your mouth- not an ounce of hesitation left in you anymore.

“Oh, so is this it real (y/n)? Not some nervous, bashful girl? She’s actually a worthless slut?” he cupped your face in his left hand, pushing your head down further onto his cock. Unprepared, you gagged- pulling yourself off his cock to cough and wheeze. He wasn’t thrilled at that, he wanted to feel your throat convulse around his cock, you weren’t allowed to just pull off.

Hawks grabbed you by the hair, yanking you so you toppled to your hands and knees before his feet.  

“Oh come on, you can be a better slut than that!” You looked up to him, lust making your eyes dilated. Eagerly you repositioned yourself onto your knees, again not hesitating to slurp on his cock. He pushed your head down again like last time, triggering your gag reflex but you held down, forcing yourself to relax overtime, swallowing around his cock on occasion.

“See,” he cooed condescendingly, “there’s a good slut.” Wetness dribbled down your thigh. You pulled off his cock with an audible pop and said three words that made Hawks want to fuck you till you went blind.

“Please fuck me.” The look of it all was so erotic. You, naked on your knees, face red and makeup running, lips, puffy and red from sucking cock, begging to be stuffed with cock.

Hawks grabbed you by the hair again, dragging you to a gnarled tree. “oh, you want to be fucked? Fucked right in your needy hole?” you nodded eagerly. “Good slut, now go on, position yourself for me.”

You braced yourself against the tree, arching your back and planting your feet. You could feel the rough bark against the soft skin of your pillowy tits. It hurt but you didn’t care. You were too caught up in the eroticism of what you were doing.

When you felt Hawks tease his cock against your cunt, you couldn’t suppress your squeal of excitement or stop yourself from eagerly spearing yourself onto his cock. You shivered at the sound of Hawks groaning as he entered your tight, slick, heat.

“Fuuuuuck,” He moaned out as he adjusted to your tightness. It wasn’t long before he was bucking into your, searching for the spot inside you that would make your legs shake.

Three or four thrusts in you squeaked- eyes fluttering shut.

“Oh there? Is that where the little slut likes feeling my cock?” you nodded eagerly but that wasn’t enough for Hawks. “No, I want to hear you say it. Say it!”

“Yes! Fuck, that’s where I like feeling your cock!” Hawks pulled out completely.

“That’s where who likes feeling my cock?” your eyes widened with recognition.

“That’s where the little slut likes feeling your cock!”

“Oh, Good Girl!”

He thrust back in, aiming directly for that patch of skin inside your tight walls that made you see stars. Hawks’ own cock was feeling fantastic, the warm heat making him go a little crazy, groaning louder and louder.  He kept thrusting in, harder and harder, making your brain rattle around inside your skull. He reached around to grind his hand against your clit, adding to the cacophony of pleasure you felt.

You were getting really close and Hawks’ wasn’t far behind you. With each thrust he could feel his muscles tense up in preparation to cum, the only thing keeping him from erupting inside you being his own willpower.

Finally, as the pleasure built inside of you, your muscles firmly clenched around Hawks’ thick cock, milking it around your own orgasm. The pro hero’s hips slowed their pace, fucking you through both of your orgasms until finally they stuttered to a halt, stuffing you to the brim with his cream.

He remained like that for a moment, cock feeling too sensitive to pull out but finally, he eased his cock out of your hole, removing the dam which had kept all of Hawks’ cum inside you. He watched in satisfaction as his cum leaked out of your used hole, completely transfixed until he heard the snapping of a branch.

He whipped around, eyes locking onto a teenaged boy holding his phone up from the bushes. The kid was tiny, with the strangest hairstyle Hawks had ever seen. Purple balls that didn’t even resemble hair. All and all an ugly kid. Even worse was to see that while one hand was occupied holding his phone, the other was held suspiciously low.

Luckily, at sight alone, the kid made a man dash to avoid a scolding. Unluckily, that kid for sure had a first of its kind, hero sex tape.

Hawks looked back at you, now slid to the ground, breathing heavily. Your naked form was a work of art, and his satisfaction with the sequence of events left him with a clear head. He looked around the clearing the two of you had occupied.

Oh, right. He’d completely destroyed all of your clothes… that was tricky.

“Hey, sorry for ruining all your clothes.” He didn’t seem too sorry.

“Its, whatever… I’ll just have to figure out a way home.”

“Well, I could fly you home… no one to enforce public decency when you’re in the sky.” You were not thrilled at the prospect of flying through the air naked. You looked down at your nude body. Unfortunately, you had no choice.

“I don’t really have any other options…” you helped clean up the clearing, and when all was set and done, allowed yourself to be carried bridal style by Hawks.

He leapt into the air, soaring seemingly higher than a plane. The cold made your nipples rock hard.

“oh by the way, (y/n)?” you looked at him.

“When we get to my apartment I’m gonna need you to rub your scent on my bed.”

 Sometimes, you hated your quirk.