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[aroaessidhe]

2023 reads // twitter thread

The Infinite

end of The Outside trilogy

AI gods, heretics, cosmic horror, aliens

some extra backstory!!

autstic lesbian tries to kill god

[whitehartlane]

“Dhoni finishes off in style! A magnificent strike into the crowd! India lift the World Cup after twenty-eight years!”

2011 CRICKET WORLD CUP FINAL India vs Sri Lanka Wankhede Stadium Player of the Match: MS Dhoni

[hecula-propaganda]

Isaac drew his lips away only to push the hair back from Hector's neck. When he saw the skin smooth and bare, he forcibly turned Hector's head to see the other side. No scars, no evidence of what happened. Isaac frowned and Hector grinned, combing his hair back with his fingers. Obviously he had gotten the wounds healed and the scars erased. That angered Isaac even more; while he did have himself healed after a feeding, he always left the scars.

I have many thoughts about this fanfic, both positive and negative (uhhh trigger warning for plenty of very graphic rape, abuse and torture, especially in the first chapter which is just brutal), but there are some parts I still can't get out of my head.

Why is Hector grinning here? What is he gloating about? It could be the fact that he managed to get the bite marks erased... but I can't help but read it as Hector danging in Isaac's face that he's Dracula's favorite and he's afforded certain privileges.

And like.

Hector being smug and arrogant about being Lord Dracula's special boy, the most beloved and bitable and fuckable, enough to shove it in Isaac's jealous face just because he can? Him taking pride in this, before realizing how wrong the whole situation is? Hector, before affirming his own dignity as a human, loving being his Lord's favorite toy because that's the closest thing to love he has experienced? The spoiled golden child before he grows into an adult and sees that it's all very fucked up?

OH I AM SO NORMAL ABOUT THIS YEP I SURE AM

[welcometoteyvat]

saw someone else’s post on the matter but if hsr is really as good as everyone says it is then just import the shit into genshin duh end of story

[blossom-hwa]

a very fine line, indeed [3] | c.bg

pairing: Beomgyu x fem!reader genre:  fluff, angst, enemies to lovers, regency era!au, nobility!au warnings: mentions of abuse, cursing, period typical misogyny word count: 7.7k notes:  — updates every M/W/F at 8pm EST until the series finishes — assault/abuse scenes are not graphic, but please heed the warnings and let me know if any of it is romanticized or just written in poor taste--I assure you I did not mean it, and I will fix anything needed. — inspiration taken from an amalgamation of different bridgerton stories - let me know what easter eggs you find! — story takes place in the same universe as my duke!yeonjun and earl!taehyun fics - check out the link to the series below for some more easter eggs :) In a society where it only takes a year for a young woman in search of a husband to be considered out of season, it is no wonder that by your third year out, you are desperate to marry. Known as one of the beauties of the ton, such a task should not be difficult for you—but with an absent father, no dowry, and a reputation centered around your inability to keep your mouth shut around one certain Beomgyu Choi, your prospects are more limited than you’d like. While you cannot recover your family or your wealth, however, the one thing you can try to control is your reputation. So when the third season rolls around, you resolve to keep your distance from Beomgyu Choi, your childhood enemy, and the man you hate most in the world. Enter Beomgyu Choi, second son of the Kensington Viscountcy, one of the most eligible bachelors in the ton. His older brother, cousin, and good friend have all recently married, leaving the mamas to salivate at his doorstep for the chance of marrying one of their daughters to him. When Beomgyu walks in on a particularly traumatizing moment between you and one of the most unsavory men in the ton and learns of your desperation to marry, despite your history of enmity, he proposes you a devious deal—to pretend to court you. It seems like a winning situation for both of you—more gentlemen will take notice of you, enhancing your prospects, and he will have the ton’s mamas off his back—and so, despite your misgivings, you agree. With you hell bent on marriage and Beomgyu completely indifferent to the concept, even independent of your hatred for each other, it seems unlikely that any sort of true affection will bloom. But as you begrudgingly put aside your differences to spend more and more time in one another’s company, and as you grow to know each other beyond your ill-conceived preconceptions from childhood, you begin to realize that perhaps you two have more in common than you had once thought. And as your faked acquaintanceship becomes more truth than fiction, a friendship beginning to bloom most unexpectedly— Perhaps you no longer need to convince the ton of the veracity of your courtship, because anyone with eyes can see that it is true.  Part 2 >> Part 3 >> Part 4

Series Masterlist | TXT Masterlist

When your stepmother announces that the two of you will be attending the Harlowes’ upcoming garden party, you decide not to complain. It isn’t as if anything would come of it even if you did. But the Harlowes are a nice family, and their parties are never too intense—it is perfectly acceptable to pull out one of your older, more comfortable gowns for one of these events, and not have to worry about having a new one made. 

Not that you have the money to afford new gowns at the moment. But even so, re-wearing one of your older ones saves you the effort of having to fetch your embroidery hoops and threads to spruce up one of your gowns just to give it the illusion of being new. 

The day of the garden party dawns grey and wet in the morning, but by early afternoon the sun cheerfully shines in a blue sky mostly devoid of clouds. The light drizzle of the morning gives the grass a little sparkle as you step over the green, and to make things even better, a few gentlemen engage you in conversation almost immediately after you join the party, which takes you far away from your stepmother. 

It's a strange feeling, having people around who are actually interested in courting you. You are no stranger to having admirers, it is true, but any admirers you had never showed much interest in actually pursuing you. Even after Mr. Choi started pretending to court you, the general sentiment around you still seemed to be mostly look, don’t touch, until Lord Kim and his friends spoke to you at the Smythe-Smith musicale. With that conversation, it seems as though some final barrier has come crashing down, giving the men of the ton some sort of signal that you are acceptable for courtship. 

You are begrudgingly grateful to Mr. Choi for proposing this idea, and to Lord Kim for being the first to actually begin courting you. But you can’t say you don’t find it a little demeaning that all of these men now asking for your attentions felt the need to wait for other men to approve you first before trying their hands. 

Still, though, you need to be married, and beggars—or third season near-spinsters—can’t be choosers. So you smile prettily the way you’ve learned to and indulge them in conversation. Even though it is a garden party, Mrs. Harlowe has arranged for a short dais to be raised on the grass, a suitable floor for dancing. As the sun sets into evening, you engage some of the gentlemen in a few dances. 

Eventually, though, your mind and body begin to tire, and citing exhaustion, you duck away from your dance partners to find some peace and quiet. You don’t quite find that, but you do find the next best thing—Lady Choi by the refreshments, looking at the desserts.

“In need of saving?” she says as soon as you’re close enough, her lips twisted in a wry grin. “Here, you must be parched.”

You take the glass she hands you with thanks. “Not really saving,” you reply, taking a sip. “I’m just a little tired.” You sigh. “How are you? Is your husband not here?”

“I’m doing all right for myself.” She smiles. “I came alone, but Soobin and his brother said they would join me later. They should be here soon.”

You nod, smiling easily with her. She was married early the season you debuted, but prior to that she had been out for three years before she and Soobin finally realized their childhood love for one another. They were married soon after, but they of course still attended the season’s events, and last year when it became obvious you were not to be married for the second year in a row, she was one of the few who comforted you, rather than mocked you behind your back. You’ve become good friends over the past year despite your turbulent relationship with her brother in law. You can’t imagine how she abides Beomgyu in her daily life, but you only admire her all the more for it.

“Oh, Mr. Choi will be here too?” you ask. “He hadn’t mentioned it to me.”

“Curious, aren’t you?” Your friend snickers knowingly at you. You roll your eyes, because she actually knows nothing at all, but it isn’t as though you can say that right now. “You two are so strange. I suppose it really is true that hate is closer to love than anyone ever thinks.”

You just manage not to spew lemonade all over your friend’s dress. “Love?” you sputter, holding your drink at arm’s length before you spill it more. Already there are a few drops soaking into your gloves. “Where—what—we don’t love each other—”

“Only love could have ended that horrible blood between the two of you,” Lady Choi interrupts, glancing at you slyly. “Trust me, Y/N. If you don’t love him now, you will come to.”

Only love. That, or maybe just a deal made by two desperate people. 

“That is…a long time coming in the future,” you finally say. “He only started courting me a couple of months ago. We may be on better terms, but I’m…marriage…” You feel your cheeks get warm, even with the cool wind brushing across your cheeks. “We haven’t spoken of marriage. I don’t know if either of us is ready for it, or if we will even want it.”

Nothing you just said was a lie. But you still feel slightly nauseous just thinking of it. 

“People have gotten married in less time, and with less reason,” she points out. “Perhaps as his sister in law I am biased, but of all your suitors this season—and you have quite a few more than ever before—I believe him to be the best of all of them, and the best suited to you.” She squints at you briefly, then smiles. “I never thought I would say that. But when I saw you two in the park, talking and laughing…I must say, the two of you do make a striking pair.”

Talking and laughing. She doesn’t know that you two were trading thinly veiled insults almost until the moment you saw them. 

“Well, that is…very kind of you to say,” you get out. You take a sip of your glass of lemonade, ignoring the sticky drops still staining your gloves. The sky has darkened with the onset of evening so no one should be able to see it, but you can feel it. And with your hands cracked between washing dishes and the slowly cooling weather, the stinging lemonade doesn’t feel very good. You rack your mind for something to say, but behind your friend, two familiar figures catch your eye. “Oh!” you exclaim, relieved at the distraction. “Is that your husband?”

Sure enough, Lord Choi and Mr. Choi are coming over the grass, the last rays of sunlight framing their faces. Not for the first time, you envy your friend for her marriage. Lord Choi is handsome, very handsome, but your envy doesn’t come from his looks. Rather, it is the clear adoration on his face as he walks up to his wife and takes her arm so sweetly, the look they share after they greet each other that means a thousand things to them and no one else. 

“Miss L/N.” Mr. Choi takes your hand and you nearly jump, still rattled from your conversation with Lady Choi. Belatedly you realize he took the hand with the lemonade spill, but he’s already pressing the customary kiss on your knuckles so there isn’t any point in trying to pull away. He doesn’t say anything about it either. “I didn’t know you would be here today. How long have you been?”

“Well, my stepmother only decided we would attend a couple of days ago,” you reply back. Relief helps you smile quietly at him—you can manage polite conversation like this. “I’ve been here since the afternoon. We are very lucky the rain stopped earlier in the morning.”

“So we are,” he agrees. His gaze skips over behind you, and his gaze turns nonplussed. “It seems my brother and his wife have decided to give us some time alone.”

You turn and sure enough, the two of them are disappearing into the growing crowd, happily linked by their arms. You smile a little. “They’re in love,” is all you say. 

“Yes, I know,” Mr. Choi grumbles. “It was such a pain to watch them figure it out. I swear, Soobin was about to send me to an early grave.”

That startles a laugh out of you. “Was it truly so terrible?”

“Miss L/N, one of the worst things that can ever happen to you is to watch two idiots fall in love and not realize it.” He shudders. “Soobin would deny it every time I tried to talk to him. They just have to realize it themselves, and unfortunately that takes an eternity.” 

You didn’t know Lady Choi before she was married, but she’s told you a fair amount about her childhood. And in the end, it always came back to Lord Choi—Soobin. How they played together as kids, how he wrote to her even when he was in school, how he comforted her after her first season out with nary a proposal in sight. It was so obvious to you just from the way she spoke of him that she had loved him for a very, very long time. 

You try to imagine what it would be like to be around that for five, ten, maybe fifteen years, except without admitting that she loved him. You also shudder. 

It must have been infuriating. 

You say as much to Mr. Choi and he snickers. He doesn’t seem to do that around anyone else. Which makes sense—snickering is not exactly one of the hallmarks of polite society, tittering is more like it. But Mr. Choi doesn’t need to pretend to be polite around you given that you both have seen the worst parts of each other already. 

Hm. You always thought that Mr. Choi brought out the worst in you, but maybe he’s the only one you can truly be yourself around, and vice versa. Flaws and all. 

How ironic.

You drag yourself out of that strange train of thought with difficulty. Maybe you’ll probe it again later, but the idea that only Mr. Choi knows the real you makes you want to hide in the bushes and maybe scream. “Would you like a drink, Mr. Choi?” you ask, motioning to the refreshments. “It seems they have just refilled the table.”

Once both of you have drinks in hand, you congratulate yourself for having whiled away another few minutes of polite conversation with Mr. Choi. Then you realize that there aren’t very many people around here, so you have to continue talking with him. 

Good God. You didn’t realize it would be so difficult to hold a conversation with Mr. Choi that didn’t involve insults that echoed around the ton. It isn’t that you want to hurl obscenities at him now. You just don’t know what else to say. “Any residual trouble with the mamas?” you ask, because your deal is usually a safe topic when there aren’t others around. 

“Only a few of the most determined.” He smiles at you in that conspiratorial way, like you share a secret, and when you smile back it feels almost friendly. It isn’t a bad feeling. “Mrs. Jung…I hardly know anything about the woman, but when she puts her mind to something, she certainly does everything she can to see it to the end.”

You think back to the Mrs. Jung you know, all warm smiles and gentle eyes burning with a passion to see both of her daughters married to titled gentlemen. Her second daughter, Mihae, is a shy little thing—very sweet, very pretty, but very quiet. You wonder how she feels about her mother’s efforts. “Well, you aren’t wrong about that,” you reply frankly. “But she’s a good woman. Very kind.”

“I know. The two aspects are not mutually exclusive.” Mr. Choi sighs, then runs a hand through his hair. Your eye catches on the movement. In the fading sunlight, his brown hair takes on a tinge of gold, and for the first time you realize Mr. Choi really is handsome. You have never been blind to his looks, of course—you know he is attractive, the same way you know you are beautiful. But when he is friendly, when he speaks to you like a person and not someone he holds a childhood grudge against…

He's very handsome. And try as you might, you can’t exactly figure out what to do with this information. 

“Your end of the deal seems to be going rather well,” he says, and you shove your train of thought away. You are never picking that one back up. He eyes a small group of men farther down the green, who all seem to be looking at you with varying degrees of interest. You’re quite sure they aren’t looking at Mr. Choi, at least. “How many suitors have you gathered?”

“A few,” you say, allowing yourself a wry smile. Lord Kim called the morning after the Smythe-Smith musicale, and for once your stepmother didn’t yell at you at all for the rest of the day. There were a couple others, too—Mr. Winslow seemed very kind, and though you don’t think much of Lord Fife, he at least made you laugh a little. “I suppose your plan did have some merit.”

“Of course it did. I’m a genius.” He smirks, his expression so self-congratulating as he raises his glass to you in mock cheer that you abandon all notions of Mr. Choi being handsome. You want to pinch him. Hard. 

“Don’t inflate your head too much,” you snipe, taking a sip of your own drink. “It doesn’t become you.”

He snickers again and for some reason, you feel your annoyance grow. You force it down. You were having a good time, you remind yourself. Mr. Choi was being almost bearable—actually bearable, even, if you’re being nice. You just need to change the subject back to something safe that won’t have you at his throat in seconds, or maybe maneuver yourselves to talk to other people—

“Did you not buy gloves?”

You blink. “What?”

“The other week, when I called. You mentioned you had gone to town to buy gloves.” Mr. Choi looks down at your hands, then back at you blankly, completely oblivious to the way your heart has stopped beating. “Did you not find any? Forgive me if I am wrong, but you seem to be wearing the same pair as always.”

If your heart wasn’t beating a second ago, it is now beating fast enough that you almost can’t breathe. You look down at your gloves. You always wear them—you need them to hide the calluses and cracks that come with your housework at home—but no one has remarked on them before. They’re plain, white, and customary. You’ve always kept them clean and mended them to perfection and you haven’t had to spend your family’s meager funds on a second pair in years. 

Why did you use that as your excuse to Mr. Choi? Why did he have to remember that? And why, just why did he even have to notice?

“I didn’t find anything that day,” you say haltingly. “And I haven’t had much time to go out since.” Your voice grows slightly sharp, and you can’t seem to rein it back in. “I spilled some lemonade on them earlier. I apologize if that upset you.”

A beat of silence follows. You bite the inside of your lip to keep yourself from speaking and making things worse. 

“Damn,” Mr. Choi finally curses, breaking the silence. You blink, but his expression softens, looking almost contrite. “I apologize. I shouldn’t have said anything. I spoke without thinking, Miss L/N.” He swallows, looking uncomfortable for the first time. You start to feel a little guilty for snapping at him. “I wanted to make conversation and so I spoke my thoughts without thinking. I apologize if I offended you.”

“It’s…quite all right,” you say, feeling just as awkward as he looks. “I must apologize for snapping at you. It was not so offensive a question, I was just not…prepared.”

Mr. Choi raises an eyebrow. “That might be the second time you’ve apologized to me, Miss L/N.”

You roll your eyes, but for all his mocking words, you can’t help but feel relieved that he let it all go so quickly. “As I’ve said before, don’t get used to it,” you snap. “And if I recall correctly, you apologized first.”

“So I did.” He smiles, looking almost friendly yet again, and it seems like he’s about to say something more before someone calls his name. 

“Beomgyu!”

The two of you turn to see a man and his wife walking up, his wife holding something in her arms. You don’t quite recognize them, though the wife looks very familiar. You stare at her a moment, trying to place her, but then Mr. Choi smiles widely and calls out the man’s name. “Yeonjun! I didn’t know you would come today.”

And then it hits you. This woman was the diamond of your first season who was acknowledged by the queen during her debut, and who went on to marry the Duke of Hastings, only the most eligible bachelor of the ton in years. You haven’t spoken much to her, but she is beautiful, and from what you have heard, she is also kind, gracious, and very intelligent. 

The Duke of Hastings also happens to be Mr. Choi’s first cousin, which explains why they seem so delighted to see each other here.

A sick feeling curdles in your stomach. What would such a brilliant woman think of you, sharp-witted and foul-mouthed, being courted by her cousin in law? Surely she has read Whistledown or seen snippets of it. Last season, there was a mention of you in every other week, and very few of them were focused on your positive aspects. 

The two of them approach you with bright smiles. You see that the duchess isn’t just carrying something—in fact, she’s carrying her baby, which explains the servant trailing behind her with a small pram. Though your palms remain sweaty with anxiety, something in you melts when you see the child, small and giggly and obviously very happy to be in their mother’s arms. 

“Well, we wanted to get some fresh air. I’ve been cooped up inside for too long.” The duchess smiles and in that one expression, you can see her kindness. “The Harlowes always host some of the greatest parties, so I thought we could drop by.” She looks at you, obviously not recognizing you, but her kind smile doesn’t waver. “Might I ask your name? I’m not sure we’ve been introduced.”

“Oh, I am Miss Y/N L/N.” You curtsy slightly, fixing a smile to your face. “My father is the Baronet L/N, I am not sure if you are acquainted with him.”

To your surprise, her smile doesn’t fade even the slightest upon hearing your name. In fact, she only laughs. “So you are the young lady Lord Choi was telling me about, the one who had such a terrible history with Beomgyu only for him to end up courting her.” She leans closer to you. “Between you and me, Miss L/N, whatever you did to him in the past, I’m sure he deserved it.”

Her words startle a laugh out of your chest, compounded only when Mr. Choi snaps “Hey!” with a deep pout. “I’m not that bad,” he mutters.

“Actually, you are,” the duke replies, smirking, which just sets you off again. 

The duchess, apparently taking pity on Mr. Choi—she might just be an angel—segues the conversation away from teasing him to your courtship, which is a much less welcome topic but also one that probably cannot be avoided. “How long has this been happening?” she asks, handing her baby off to the duke. “The way Soobin told me about it, you two had been at odds for…well, nearly forever.”

You’ve told the story so many times that it is almost second nature for the lies to slip off your tongue. Mr. Choi nods to emphasize some points, and chimes in to finish the story off on his own. You look at him after, just for a moment, to let your secret understanding pass between the two of you.

“Well, that sounds just like a love story for the books,” the duke says, smiling in surprise. “I honestly never though Beomgyu would get past his childhood grudge. It’s good to see that he’s matured.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” you tease, which sets off another round of laughs from everyone but Mr. Choi, who narrows his eyes at you with his mouth still fixed into that deep pout. “I jest. But I will admit, it has been nice to see another side of Mr. Choi that I had not been privy to before.” It’s as much truth as it is a lie, so you don’t feel much guilt for saying it.

Mr. Choi, likely sensing that you are veering back into teasing territory, swiftly turns the conversation to the duchess’s baby. Apparently she is just a few months old and already the sweetest thing, but she was a bit small at birth. “Should she be outside like this?” Mr. Choi asks, stroking back a bit of flyaway hair on her head. The duke obligingly hands the child to his cousin, and as he carefully takes the baby, you are reminded of how he spoke to your little sister that day he called. He’s so gentle, so sweet and concerned—he almost seems like a different person altogether. 

“The doctor said it should be fine, and that it would do good for her to get some fresh air every so often,” the duchess says, gazing fondly at her child. It isn’t right, but you feel a little pang of envy—that she is so beautiful, that she can be so kind and have such a loving and doting husband as well as the sweetest child. She’s perfect in every way that you aren’t. “She seems to be enjoying it.”

“She certainly does,” you say softly, holding out a finger to her. She grabs it with her own little hands and you laugh when her big eyes find yours, wide with wonder and curiosity. “She’s lovely.”

“Would you like to hold her?” the duchess asks. 

You take her with reverent hands, feel her small body pressed against yours as she laughs and gurgles at you. She reminds you of Delia when she was small and you helped take care of her, rocking her to sleep before she napped, walking her around your small garden so she could see the flowers. “She’s lovely,” you whisper again, more to yourself than anyone else. 

When you look up, the duke and duchess are gazing at their child with undisguised fondness, but Mr. Choi seems to be looking at you with a strange expression. You frown at him slightly. “Mr. Choi? Is something wrong?”

He blinks. “No, nothing at all,” he says, that strange expression disappearing so fast you almost think you imagined it. You narrow your eyes, not trusting him completely, but then the baby gurgles again so adorably that you have to coo. 

The duke and duchess eventually leave, and then Mr. Choi leads you to the small stage to dance with you twice. You spend a few hours more at the party, just chatting and laughing, before your stepmother decides it is time to leave. 

When you go to bid goodbye to Mr. Choi, that same strange expression flashes across his face quickly before he bows and wishes you a good night. And for some reason, though so much happened during the day, you can’t help but wonder what that expression meant all the way home. 

. . . . .

Standing across the ballroom, watching you whisk your way across the dance floor with another man, Beomgyu comes to the unfortunate conclusion that you are likely actually a good person. This is a very unfortunate finding, as it only makes it more difficult for him to dislike you on principle as he always has.

But he can’t exactly ignore it anymore. The fact has been pushing him to stare it in the face for a while now, but after the Harlowes’ party, where you held the duchess’s child with such tenderness and care…

Quite frankly, Beomgyu has never seen you look so soft in your life. He caught a glimpse of it when he met Delia for the first time, but your tenderness to those you care for has never been more obvious than in that moment when you held the baby. Beomgyu automatically distrusts those who are rude to children—he would never say anyone has to like them, but they are young and inexperienced and never deserve outright cruelty. To those who are not only kind to children, but actively respectful and accommodating for each of their individual quirks and personalities…well, Beomgyu holds such people in quite a high regard. It usually means they have good hearts.

As Beomgyu is beginning to see in many of your interactions with others, you have a good heart indeed.

When he saw you holding his cousin’s baby, your face soft with wonder and tenderness, it struck him then that good people are very beautiful, no matter their looks. And unfortunately, since then, he hasn’t been able to see you the same way he did before—pretty, but unconvincing in your respectability. The more he observes you, though, the more grudging respect he gains for you.

It is true that you have acted abominably around him. But Beomgyu now must conceded that he has let that part of you blind him long enough that he never bothered to notice how you act around others, too. This leaves a bit of a bitter taste in his mouth, though he has to acknowledge that he is at least as responsible for your mutual enmity as you are. 

It doesn’t mean he has plans to apologize just yet, though. 

The current piece ends, and Beomgyu watches you curtsy to your partner with a wide smile on your face. The man doesn’t seem to be one that he recognizes, and he frowns a little. Beomgyu knows almost every gentleman in the ton, simply by virtue of the season and attending school with them for many years. If he doesn’t know who this person is, he must be from out of town. 

It isn’t that rare for some foreign nobility to attend a season to find a partner in London, but Beomgyu feels certain that he would have heard of such a thing from Whistledown. Perhaps this man arrived in the week between issues. The next issue should tell him more about this person. 

No matter. You and Beomgyu agreed to dance a quadrille tonight and that so happens to be the next dance in this set. Foreign suitor or not, he should at least ask if you would like to take to the floor with him. He wouldn’t mind if you refused, as there will be other quadrilles, but he won’t break your agreement. 

You fairly seem to sparkle tonight. As Beomgyu comes closer, he almost stops at the sight of your bright smile directed right at this foreign lord. You’ve never looked so happy—or at least so enamored. Which, to be honest, Beomgyu doesn’t quite understand. Yes, this man is handsome, but what exactly else does he have?

Thankfully, he gets to you when it seems that you’ve reached a lull in your conversation. He catches your attention and to his surprise, your smile hardly fades when you notice him. “Miss L/N,” he greets, bowing slightly. 

“Mr. Choi.” You curtsy prettily, and that’s when Beomgyu realizes why your bright smile unsettled him—it looks completely genuine. With everyone else you’ve spoken to, your expression has been pretty but bland, pleasant but reserved in a way that isn’t quite yourself. Right now, though, speaking to this new person, you look completely at ease with yourself, and not in the way you are with Beomgyu, unafraid to bite back and toss insults in his face. 

No, with this foreign lord, you look completely yourself in your most charming form. And Beomgyu…

He almost feels jealous of it. 

“Allow me to introduce you to Lord Cho,” you say, breaking Beomgyu out of his rapidly devolving train of thought. “Lord Cho, meet Mr. Choi, second in line to the viscountcy of Kensington.”

“A pleasure.” Lord Cho inclines his head, that charming smile never once fading. Beomgyu has to force his own smile not to curdle as he greets the other lord in turn. 

“Lord Cho has just come from the continent to join the season,” you explain. “He hails from Prussia.”

Beomgyu raises an eyebrow. Prussia is a great distance away, not one that most would brave simply to join the London season. He has enough propriety not to say that, of course, but he has to wonder why this Lord Cho could find no one in his home country to marry, with his good looks and charm. “My word, that is quite the journey,” he says neutrally. “I hope you did not find the travel too taxing.”

“Not at all.” Lord Cho smiles easily, which for some reason just puts Beomgyu more on edge. “I love to travel, and if in the end it was to meet Miss L/N, it was all worth it.”

Beomgyu almost gags. To your credit, you don’t look much impressed by his flirty quip, but you do smile somewhat wryly at him. “We have only just met, Lord Cho,” you say. “Do save your deepest compliments for those who deserve them.”

Lord Cho grins. “And do you not think you are deserving?”

That’s quite enough. Beomgyu fixes his attention on you before he does something stupid to Lord Cho, like roll his eyes. Or punch him in the face. “Miss L/N, the quadrille is about to begin,” he says. “I came to ask if you might want to dance.”

You glance at Lord Cho, but before Beomgyu can tell what you’re thinking, you’ve turned back to him and are putting your hand in his. “Of course,” you reply. “Thank you, Mr. Choi. Lord Cho, perhaps I will find you sometime later this evening.”

“I will count the dances until then,” he replies smoothly, and Beomgyu just refrains from rolling his eyes as he leads you onto the floor.

The music begins, and the two of you effortlessly take your starting positions. “How did you meet him?” Beomgyu mutters as you pass one another. 

“It seems he is good friends with Mr. Jung,” you reply. “Lord Cho is staying with him while he decides whether or not he wishes to stay long enough to let a house. He came with Mr. Jung to this ball.”

This makes sense, to Beomgyu. Wooyoung is a social butterfly. If anyone in town were to have foreign friends, it would be him. He spins you under his arm. “You seem to like him very much.”

A little smile involuntarily curves your lips. Beomgyu isn’t even sure you notice it, which annoys him more than it really should. “He’s very charming,” you say. “And he has already asked to call on me sometime this week.”

Well, at least he seems to be serious. Beomgyu wants to ask more questions, but the music is picking up as it nears the climax of the dance, so he forces himself to focus on the steps first as you dip and spin and whirl across the floor. There will be time to probe later. Beomgyu doesn’t wish to think ill of someone he hardly knows, but he has been accounted a fair judge of people’s personalities. If he dislikes Lord Cho, there might be a reason. 

Or it could just be that twinge of jealousy that he felt earlier. 

No. He turns you under his arm, catches your hand. For a moment, the two of you meet eyes. He can’t be jealous—you two have no relationship. He isn’t even really courting you. Sure, the animosity between you two might be fading ever so slightly, but you are still a ways from even being friends. Jealousy doesn’t make sense. This is just…concern. Normal concern that one would feel for any acquaintance who might possibly be in a worrisome situation. 

The music fades out, and as he bows to your curtsy, Beomgyu can already see Lord Cho glancing at you from one side of the ballroom with a group of what Beomgyu will assume to be his friends. Fortunately, the refreshments are on the other side of the room. “Shall we get a drink, Miss L/N?” he asks. “You must be parched after having danced so much this evening.”

You smile at him gratefully, and Beomgyu feels some absurd sense of pride that he’s the one who made you smile this way. “That would be most welcome,” you say, and so the two of you head to a table laid out with an array of glasses. 

Several things happen in rapid succession. 

One: Beomgyu picks up two glasses of lemonade and hands one to you. 

Two: You take the glass. 

Three: Someone’s elbow knocks into you from behind. 

Four: You crash right into Beomgyu, and the two of you fall to the floor in a twist of limbs and lemonade. 

Beomgyu blinks, drops of lemonade stinging his eyes slightly as he tries to take in what just happened. You’re on the floor and clearly took the worst of the fall—you may have knocked into him, but your cup shattered on the ground and little glass shards lie all around you, glinting in the candlelight. "Bloody hell,” he curses under his breath. Someone’s apologies sound vaguely against his ears but he can only hear your slight hiss of annoyance as you try to stand. “Miss L/N, come—you need to get out of the glass.” You cry out in pain when he tries to take your hand so he gingerly grips your fingers to help you up. “Come, I’ll help you to another room,” he says, glaring at those who have come to gawk at the scene. “Move, please,” he snaps at the crowd. 

Somehow the two of you make it to a small, empty room, where a servant rushes in with a little basin of water and a cloth. Beomgyu looks at you, unsure what to do. Your gloves are covered in sticky lemonade and part of the front of your dress is also soaked in it, but worst of all…

A line of red seems to have soaked through your gloves. You’re bleeding. 

“You’re bleeding,” he says as calmly as he can. “Miss L/N—”

“I know,” you snap, jerking your hands away from his, which doesn’t make sense because he’s the one who has the cloth to wipe the blood with. He doesn’t relent, though. “The glass must have scratched you,” he says, reaching for you again. “We need to clean it.”

You look at him. He looks at you. Then, almost as one, you look down at the blood seeping through your gloves. 

Through your gloves. Beomgyu blinks. There are no rips in the fabric, just stains from your blood and the lemonade. 

Which means the glass didn’t cut you, and the blood is coming from something else. 

“Miss L/N,” Beomgyu says slowly. “What happened to your hands?”

. . .

You stay silent for a moment. When you raise your head, a dull expression resides on your face. “Leave me, please, Mr. Choi,” you say, reaching with your unbloodied glove. “I can clean myself up. You need not be here.”

Beomgyu snatches back the cloth. “No,” he replies shortly. “How exactly do you plan to bandage your hand on your own? Do you even have anything to bind it with?”

“Just leave me!” you snap. “I will find some way on my own—”

“Would you just let me stay here and help you?” Beomgyu explodes. “I know you don’t like me, but I only want to help!”

Then he remembers that the door is still open. 

Dead silence falls. But though no one comes in and he hears no whispers outside, meaning their deal is probably still safe, he looks at you and you suddenly looked hunched in and—terrified. Beomgyu feels awful. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “I didn’t mean to yell, and I certainly didn’t mean to say that.”

You swallow hard. Beomgyu is reminded of the terrible night of that first ball, when Mr. Thompson tried to assault you and you went into something like shock. This time, though, you manage to speak. “It’s all right,” you say quietly. “I’m sorry, too. It’s not because I dislike you. It’s…” You turn away. 

Beomgyu reaches out. Takes the hand with the bloody glove gently. You flinch slightly and he almost lets go, but with seeming effort you force yourself to relax. You don’t pull away even as he begins to peel back the worn cotton layer to reveal your bare hands. 

A lady’s hand is meant to be smooth, soft. The hardest labor they might do with their hands is sew embroidery, or pen letters and documents every day. But your hands are rough, littered with small calluses and cuts left in tender skin. The pads of your fingers look pricked and raw while your palms seem slightly swollen. Beomgyu recognizes the cracks that come from the mixture of harsh wind and exposure to cold water. He got plenty of those when he used to play outside in the winter, but young ladies your age don’t play outside, especially not in this harsh winter season. These marks have no place on your hands. 

So where did they come from?

Without a word, Beomgyu dips the cloth into the basin and presses it against one of the cracks still oozing blood on your palm. Silence fills the room save for the sound of your breathing, the ripple of water in the basin as he wets the cloth again. 

“You’re not going to ask what happened?” you ask roughly. Normally, Beomgyu would bristle at your tone and the sarcasm littered through it, but in this moment he recognizes that this is your last defense in a moment of weakness. He doesn’t rise to the bait. 

“No,” he replies quietly. “Not unless you want to tell me. I will not pry.”

You stay silent for a moment more. Beomgyu continues cleaning off the blood and lemonade, acutely aware of your eyes warily searching his face for something. He doesn’t quite know if you find it, but as he’s dipping the cloth back into the basin, you take a breath. 

“On your honor,” you say, voice trembling, “what I am about to say does not leave this room.”

He nods. “On my honor, and that of my family, I swear it.” 

Something in your face seems to relax, though your shoulders remain tense. “I have no dowry.”

This is common knowledge. Beomgyu says nothing of it, though, and just waits. 

“My family is poor.” You state the words with a dull finality. “We may still have our house and estate, but we do not have a full array of servants.” You pause to take a deep breath and Beomgyu has a sinking feeling he knows what you will say next. 

“And so someone must help them with the chores they cannot summon the manpower to do.”

Beomgyu lets those words mill around his mind for a bit before he says anything. “And that person is you,” he states. 

Your lips curve in the semblance of a smile, though no mirth reaches your eyes. “How ever did you guess?” you ask, sarcasm in every word. 

Silence falls again. Beomgyu takes the time to sort through the revelations you’ve given him. Your family is far poorer than the ton even knows. There is not enough money to hire the number of servants needed to keep your estates in order. Which means you must help them with their work, resulting in these rough, callused hands. Beomgyu can see exactly where these cracks come from. Doing laundry in the cold air, icy water drying out your hands while the wind chaps them…

A sick feeling rises in his stomach. No wonder you wear gloves all the time. And no wonder you have worn the same pair for…however long. Probably longer than Beomgyu even knows. You likely don’t have the money to spare for a new one. 

“Does your stepmother know about this?” he asks quietly.

You snort. “Who do you think ordered me to begin with it?”

He stops. Stares. “What?”

“My stepmother hates me,” you snap. “I am a daughter, and not even one by her blood. If I wasn’t already known to society when she married my father I’m sure she would have dropped me off as a maid in someone else’s home and been done with me.” Your voice starts rising, but with visible effort, you rein yourself in. “Unfortunately, she is stuck with me, so I must earn my keep as a daughter who brings no monetary value to the household.” 

Beomgyu’s head is reeling. So he was right—you and your stepmother aren’t on good terms. But what he hadn’t realized was just how bad those terms were. Not only does your stepmother know about your servitude, she’s the one who started it. And Beomgyu doesn’t have to ask to know that your stepmother has likely never lifted a hand to help even when you started. 

He feels a little nauseous. Maybe you really do fear your stepmother, if your relationship is more of a master and servant than a mother and daughter. It sounds terrible, but the more you say, the more likely it becomes. 

No wonder you are so insistent on marrying before society takes you off the marriage shelf.

Something of his thoughts must show on his face, because you jerk your hands away. “Don’t pity me,” you say dangerously, a snarl creeping into your words. Your eyes shine strangely and Beomgyu thinks you might be about to cry. “I am telling you now, Mr. Choi—don’t you dare give me any of your pity. I don’t want it. If that is what keeps you in here, you can leave right now.”

“I don’t pity you,” he replies quietly, reaching for your hand again. “I could never pity a person as strong as you.”

Tension hangs in the air, so thick it feels like a noose wrapping around his neck. Slowly, though, you extend your hand back to him, and the air relaxes slightly. “Does your father know?” he asks. 

“No. He is always on his nth business venture, trying to make money for the household so my brother will have something to inherit.” You shake your head. “His last letter was months ago. I have no idea where he is or if he’s even still alive. Anyway, my stepmother would never have me work whenever he was home, and he’d never believe me if I said anything anyway.”

Beomgyu sucks in a breath. Lets it out slowly, very slowly. “I see,” is all he ends up saying.

You watch in silence as he takes a clean handkerchief from his pocket and wraps it around your hand, covering the cuts in the white cloth. It takes him a few tries but he finally manages to tie the ends in a knot. It looks a bit clumsy, but it is functional. “You’ll want to bandage that properly later,” he says. “Do you still want to return to the party?”

He sees the answer written on your face even before you reply. “No,” you whisper, and for the first time that evening—the first time ever—you look broken. It shatters something in Beomgyu’s chest. “No, I really don’t.” You swallow. “But my stepmother is still here and she won’t want to leave so soon…”

“I will send you home in mine,” he interrupts quietly. “I had planned to stay a few hours longer, anyway. If anyone asks, I will say that the mess was too great, and you went home to clean up and rest.” He holds out a hand. “Will that be all right?”

Relief crashes over your face as you nod. “Yes,” you say. “Thank you very much.”

The two of you slip out of the room. Beomgyu is thankful to see that no one seems to have been in the hallway. You alert a servant to the basin and cloth you left in there, and then Beomgyu manages lead you out of the mansion without anyone asking too many questions. You don’t speak until you’re in front of his family’s carriage and Beomgyu has given directions to the footman. He offers you a hand to help you inside and you take it, but you don’t step up yet.

“Thank you, Mr. Choi,” you say quietly. “I must apologize for any rude behavior I displayed earlier. I am ever grateful for your help, and your understanding.” You swallow. “I owe you.”

“You owe me nothing,” he replies. “And there is nothing to forgive. You were forced to show me something you have kept secret for a long time, and understandably so—I cannot imagine anyone would have reacted gracefully in the face of that.” He looks at you, moonlight glittering solemnly in your eyes. “And, Miss L/N, I swear on my honor and those who came before me that what you told me tonight will never pass my lips to another. Not without your express permission.”

You look at him for a long moment, gaze unreadable. “Mr. Choi,” you finally say, “for all the faults I once perceived in you, your honor is the one thing that has never been in doubt to me.”

Reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed this, and have a lovely day :)

[pettypartypooper]

! lee know fic recommendation part 2 ¡

lee know fic recommendation list part 1

other members fic recommendation lists

s = smut , f = fluff , a = angst

quiet love-making with lee know [s] by @lixiesol​

little do you know series [s] by @illusivedark

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just you [sug] by @hyuniyz

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just watch [s] by @ksmins

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a pillow in between [s,a] by @starlostseungmin

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enemies to lovers trope

6:19 pm [s] by @bbyquokka

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[11:36] ft lee minho, han jisung [s] by bbyquokka

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he's soft for you [s] by @httpseiki

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between us (lee know, kim seungmin) [s] by @cb97percent

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host requested: lee know from one night at the back door series [s] by cb97percent

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minho + bondage kink [s] by @lix-ables

minho + voyeurism [s] by lix-ables

[5:27pm] [f,a] by @propertyoftoru

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smother me [s] by propertyoftoru

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summary: the lines between friends and lovers is quick to blur. there isn’t anyone you would rather spend your time with, and he finds his sweet escape when he’s alone with you. what started out as casual thing that was supposed to be secret kept between the two of you leads to so much more

sudden desire - i want everything with you [s] by straylightdream

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bad day (lee know, kim seungmin) [s] by @gimmeurtmi

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audience ft lee minho, kim seungmin [s] by gimmeurtmi

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summary: min & y/n (ft. minho) engaging in exhibitionism. y/n has a wet dream about minho and it’s kept her restless and horny — obviously seungmin takes note and asks whats going on and y/ns all like nooo youre gonna think im weird and i feel bad i don’t want you to hate me but he’s quick to shut that down and reassures her that he’s into it too because no matter what y/n will always belong to him

piercings (lee know, kim seungmin) [s] by gimmeurtmi

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kisses with minho [f] by @rachalixie

the best man [f] by rachalixie

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feel the beat [s] by tasteracha

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minho's long hair [s] by tasteracha

minho eating your pussy like it's a five star meal [s] by tasteracha

cockwarming computer science major minho [s] by tasteracha

kisses with minho [sug] by tasteracha

between (bang chan, lee know) [s] by @tasteleeknow

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summary: your two roommates are your best friends in the world. you’d also love nothing more than to be sandwiched between them. queue tension and smut with feelings

strawberries ft lee minho, han jisung [s] by @tasteleeknow​

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everything and no one [s,f,a] by tasteleeknow

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summary: you’re a royal servant, someone who was supposed to sink into the shadows and speak only when spoken to. power: you had none… except when it came to the crown prince

addicted to you: one week [s] part 2 by tasteleeknow

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summary: you’re insecure, both about being inexperienced and about revealing your body to him fully. minho asks if he can show you how much he likes you. a sickly sweet, body worship, virgin!reader smut

feast [s] by tasteleeknow

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summary: minho teaches you self defence and then…. well ya know

knife kink [s] by tasteleeknow

lee know fic recommendation list part 1

other members fic recommendation lists

[whumpy-daydreams]

Capture the flag

Writing Masterlist

Previous Next

apologies this got so long and its not even that whumpy?? anyway have a sci fi action sequence

CW: guns, military whump

327 missed their team. They wondered what they were doing, how training was going, whether they missed them too. They wondered if 305 would be angry.

But the month was almost up. Only two days before they reunited with their team. First they had to get through two days of evaluation, and the first was with Whumper.

327 had no idea what to expect as they were escorted from their cell. They weren't led to the training rooms though, instead heading to the armoury, Whumper standing with crossed arms in the doorway. 327 saluted, keeping their eyes forward.

"For your combat evaluation you will be assisting with Company 4's defence training. You have three hours to retrieve the flag in sector seven and return to the extraction point. Any questions?"

327 knew Company 4. They still had 3 years of training left before getting deployed, though that didn't mean they were harmless. Like 327 they had been trained since birth, moulded into perfect weapons.

"Am I to engage with Company 4, sir?"

"What the fuck do you think?" Whumper stepped aside. "Suit up."

327 didn't waste time getting into their armour. It felt comforting to be inside the padded gel suit again, to know there was a layer of metal between them and the world. As they slipped their helmet on the neural interface fired up, the visual display merging seamlessly with their vision.

_

A sea of jungle spread out below them. 327 stood at the edge of the open jet door, waiting for the order to jump. They were glad Whumper had chosen this location - it was a place they'd trained in many times before.

"Preparing to drop in three... two..."

327 stepped off the jet. Arms tight to their sides they plummeted towards the canopy top, numbers dropping at the edge of their vision as the suit calculated the time to impact.

The armour was designed to absorb the force as 327 hit the earth. They rolled, retrieving their rifle, scanning the trees for any heat signatures.

All they had to do was think and a translucent map of the area was displayed, overlaying the jungle around them. Three miles north-east. 327 doubted any of Company 4 would spread so far away from the site they were protecting.

Unless... They activated their camouflage, the surface of their black armour rippling to refract light instead of absorb it. It wasn't perfect, but it would help.

327 set off through the jungle. It didn't take long before they were close to where the flag should be.

But there were still no heat signatures. No signs of movement. No signs of anything in the forest. 327 checked the map again. Yep, they were definitely in sector seven. So where was Company 4?

They made sure to scan the area thoroughly, on guard for ambushes. There was nothing there though.

"Colonel Whumper this is 327 in sector seven. No sign of Company 4 or the target, sir. Over."

327 waited for a response. "This is 327 requesting situation update. Over." Their comms were silent, not even static to suggest interference. 327 was on their own.

Maybe this was part of their evaluation. Think. What would you do if you were hiding a flag? The answer was painfully obvious. They weren't protecting a location, they were protecting an object. So Company 4 had left sector seven.

It was just a question of which direction they'd gone in. 327 scanned the ground. They didn't know how many people weapons they were trying to find, but they would have left signs. It didn't take long to figure it out.

327 moved north. Company 4 hadn't left much to show their path, but that didn't matter. They'd made enough of a dent in the forest for them to follow.

_

Finally there was a flash of movement. The heat signatures were low - the suits shielded a lot of radiant heat - but it wasn't hard to miss three figures in black armour in a sea of green.

327 crouched down, silently ordering their armour to engage cooling mechanisms. It could only maintain it for an hour before draining the power, but when you were outnumbered... well, it was worth it.

Attacking now wasn't the right choice. 327 was made for stealth, designed to infiltrate behind enemy lines or eliminate targets from a distance. The three figures weren't heading anywhere. 327 recognised the stance, the bored alertness of being on guard.

As silently as possible they crept to the left, hidden in the undergrowth as they went around the first set of guards. A voice in their ear almost startled them.

"327, this is Colonel Whumper requesting status update. Over."

Why now? "Colonel, this is 327. I've located Company 4, preparing to advance. Over," they whispered, quickly setting the suit's settings to silent.

"Understood. Over." 327 resisted the urge to grit their teeth, turning their attention back to the mission. Enhance heat signatures, they commanded the neural interface.

Glowing yellow shapes brightened, revealing fifteen- no, twenty - people scattered through the jungle ahead of them. From the way they moved, 327 could guess the flag was at the centre of the concentric circles they made.

327 got as close as they could before opening fire. Four people were on the ground before a single hit landed on 327. The beam of a stun laser glanced off their electromagnetic shield as 327 sprinted, using the trees for cover as much as the could.

Rays of light shot through the jungle, the quiet ambience turning into a symphony of energy as Company 4 began to group together.

Their suit could take ten full hits before the shielding failed, and another five before it would malfunction completely - a simulation of mortal injury.

327 changed tactics. Using the undergrowth as cover they changed position constantly, able to down another five people before taking a full hit. The biometric display flashed orange.

That wasn't right. It was registering three hits, not one. 327 didn't have time for this. They'd spent almost an hour finding the company - they'd have to be quick if they wanted to get to the extraction point on time.

From their position they picked off one person after another, keeping an eye out for any sign of the flag they were supposed to be retrieving. Finally they saw it: a piece of black fabric wrapped onto the arm of one of the weapons.

327 ran. Orange flashed again, another warning that their shields were compromised. It didn't matter.

They dropped the people flanking the flag-bearer and tackled them to the ground, straddling their chest as they grabbed their pistol. As 327 neutralised the flag-bearer, their shields went down.

It was time to get out. 327 sprinted west, their map overlaying the trees as they headed for the extraction point. They didn't need heat signatures to know there were six people on their tail.

A flash of light went overhead as 327 ducked just in time to avoid a stun ray. They rolled, taking position behind a tree. Light filled the air again as they went up against six opponents, keeping one eye on the charge left in their weapons as the felled two people.

Suddenly it occurred to them that Whumper had tampered with their equipment. The realisation was unwelcome but not unsurprising. 327 pulled back as a stun ray zoomed dangerously close to their head.

There were still three people left when their weapons ran out. If 327 wanted to reach the extraction point without 'dying' they needed to eliminate the others.

When another shot hit them, the visual display shot red.

But 327 was already there, swinging out a leg to down the person on the right, fist knocking another's head back. They grabbed a handgun from the first, quickly shooting three rays at their helmet, not bothering to watch as their armour disabled, rendering them motionless on the ground. Two more to go.

Red spilled across their vision again. One more hit and 327 would fail their evaluation. They spun, each shot hitting its mark as their target fell prone.

The visual display shuddered as a powerful kick to the stomach sent 327 to the ground. Their gun fell to the side, their opponent scrambling to get to their own. 327 got there first.

Luck was on their side. The last member of Company 4 fell to the ground with only one shot.

327 clambered to their feet, fallen opponents scattered around the jungle floor. One hour to get back to the extraction point. Tying the flag to their arm, 327 started running.

_

They could see the jet through the trees, positioned in a clearing, already prepared to take off. Whumper was waiting by the door, focused on his watch as 327 halted in front of him, saluting. Two minutes. Just two more minutes and they would have failed.

"The flag." Whumper held out a hand. 327 handed it over. "Cutting it close. Get on."

It was as much praise as they could hope for.

[flagwars]

Regional Flag Wars: Round 1

Welcome to the Regional Flag Wars! It will focus on the flags of regions/administrative divisions, with one flag being allowed per country. This tournament has been a long time coming, as I’ve been holding many preliminary rounds to decide the best regional flags of various countries over the past year, including the tournaments the Japanese Prefecture Flag Wars and the Russian Federal Subject Flag Wars. This tournament is one of my largest, with 82 flags and six rounds. The first round will begin this week. I hope everyone is excited to vote for the greatest regional flag in the world!

Round 1:

1. Baja Verapaz Department, Guatemala vs. Tierra del Fuego Province, Argentina

2. Yucatán, Mexico vs. Alexandria Governate, Egypt

3. Nakuru County, Kenya vs. Panevėžys County, Lithuania vs. San José Department, Uruguay

4. South Ostrobothnia, Finland vs. Hirshabelle, Somalia

5. Northern Territory, Australia vs. Vysočina Region, Czechia vs. Bali, Indonesia

6. Azores, Portugal vs. Chuquisaca Department, Bolivia vs. Lower Austria, Austria

7. Brod-Posavina County, Croatia vs. Olancho Department, Honduras vs. Chuvashia, Russia

8. Brest Region, Belarus vs. Sicily, Italy vs. Batken Region, Kyrgyzstan

9. Akwa Ibom State, Nigeria vs. Amambay Department, Paraguay

10. Sarawak, Malaysia vs. Bukidnon, Philippines vs. Bratislava Region, Slovakia

11. Kosrae State, Micronesia vs. South Darfur, Sudan vs. Saare County, Estonia

12. Mpumalanga, South Africa vs. Nakhon Si Thammarat Province, Thailand

13. Gagauzia, Moldova vs. Chontales Department, Nicaragua

14. Adjara, Georgia vs. Grande Comore, Comoros vs. Wallonia, Belgium

15. Emirate of Abu Dhabi, United Arab Emirates vs. Tuzla Canton, Bosnia and Herzegovina vs. Magallanes Region, Chile

16. Töv Province, Mongolia vs. Balochistan, Pakistan vs. Tocantins, Brazil

17. Amhara Region, Ethiopia vs. Covasna County, Romania vs. Canton of Bern, Switzerland

18. New Brunswick, Canada vs. Angaur, Palau

19. San Jose Province, Costa Rica vs. Macedonia, Greece vs. Occitania, France

20. Saga Prefecture, Japan vs. Ebon Atoll, Marshall Islands

21. Greenland, Denmark vs. La Libertad Department, El Salvador

22. Donetsk Oblast, Ukraine vs. Central Equatoria, South Sudan

23. Valencia, Spain vs. Coclé Province, Panama

24. Mon State, Myanmar vs. Malampa Province, Vanuatu

25. Lublin Voivodeship, Poland vs. Santo Domingo de los Tsáchilas Province, Ecuador

26. Uva Province, Sri Lanka vs. Zulia, Venezuela vs. Agder, Norway

27. Karakalpakstan, Uzbekistan vs. Friesland, Netherlands vs. Enga Province, Papua New Guinea

28. Leicestershire, United Kingdom vs. Choiseul Province, Solomon Islands

29. Bavaria, Germany vs. Kukës County, Albania vs. Kalmar County, Sweden

30. Department of Cuzco, Peru vs. Vojvodina, Serbia vs. Heves County, Hungary

31. Alaska, United States vs. Haut-Ogooué Province, Gabon vs. Grand Gedeh County, Liberia

32. Otago, New Zealand vs. Boyacá Department, Colombia vs. Connacht, Ireland

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

A Mouse in a Lion’s Den Pt.8

Pairing(s): Rhaegar Targaryen x Lannister!Reader, Jaime Lannister x Cersei Lannister, implied Rhaegar Targaryen x Lyanna Stark

Warnings: none

Words: 2010

Summary: You must break up a fight between your brother and Rhaegar.

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7  Part 9  Part 10  Part 11  Part 12  Part 13  Part 14  Part 15  Part 16  Part 17  Part 18

Book One of Heir of Ash and Fire

Fire. Endless fields of fire was all your vision could take in.

One foot in front of the other you examine your surroundings in titillated fear. What was going on?

Then you heard it.

A deafening shriek that did not come from any human or animal. It came from something entirely different. Something ginormous.

You wanted to flee the scene but your feet seemed to have a mind of their own as they led you further into the field.

The same horrendous wail raises again, this time it struck every nerve in your body. It woke something up. Made you no longer scared to venture further.

Tall grass kiss at your exposed arms as you hurry now. Whatever was making that sound, it was calling to you. It meant you no harm. You knew for certain, without a doubt.

You quicken your pace, nearly tumbling forward.

Pulling back a thicket of long grass and finding a clearing you-

**

Jolting awake, heart beating furiously in your chest, you hear the knocking again. Urgent in it’s rhythm. Every part of you is a trembling mess though and you doubt you’d be able to make it to the door to answer.

“Lady (y/n), please open the door!” You recognize it as your handmaid from Dragonstone. Thalina’s voice matched her knocking. “You must come with me immediately!”

Shakingly you push off your covers and cautiously pad over to your door. You realize then that your drenched with a film of sweat making you feel uncomfortably clammy. Your hand slips on the handle before you turn it and find her panicked face. “What’s wrong Thalina?” Apprehension and adrenaline are ready for any moment to flee. Maybe Aerys was upset with you for breaking your engagement so close to the wedding? You wouldn’t put it past him to send someone to kill you.

“There’s a fight! Ooooh a terrible fight going on! I fear they might kill him!” She says fretfully, not really making much sense as she continues to jabber and grab your hands.

You groan. “I don’t understand. You woke me up for something so trivial?” A part of you was upset with her that she had disrupted your dream.

“Trivial?” She turns on you as if you had just slapped her grandmother across the face. “It is anything but trivial! For this act of treason your brother could potentially lose his station!”

Jaime.

The last person you wanted to see.

Well, one of the last people you wanted to see. You didn’t know who you were more upset with at the moment and didn’t really have the time to figure it out as Thalina continued to drag you through the dark halls; past Rhaegar’s room making your chest ache.

*

“What did you do.”

Not a question, so Rhaegar couldn’t really answer him. Exalting a sigh he sets his harp down beside him to look up at Jaime. The moon’s gentle glow made his hair appear the same hue as Rhaegar’s and not the rich gold that all Lannisters possessed.

“I can’t possibly fathom what you’re talking about.” Rhaegar had gone to the courtyard to be alone. No one was ever out there so late at night except for a few patrolling guards and they knew better than to bother him.

Jaime didn’t appear to like that answer as he stormed closer to Rhaegar. That’s when the prince caught sight of something gleaming. “You brought your blade to talk to me? How unwise of you.”

“You did something to upset my sister. To upset (y/n). She would never. . .” He clenches his jaw and hesitates a moment. What he had to say was a little painful for him to let out. “She would never end the engagement unless something terrible happened. Unless you did something terrible. Something so unforgiving that even someone like (y/n) would stop loving you.”

Despite being engaged to his sister, Rhaegar knew little to nothing about Jaime. One thing he was aware of was his relationship with her via (y/n). (y/n) had told him that Jaime favorited his twin sister, sometimes to a fault. He remembered a specific story that involved the Casterly Rock cellars and a lion. Even at the tourney for Viserys’ name day, Jaime didn’t seem too concerned about his sister. Like (y/n) had said, he favorited Cersei.

“Why are you so concerned about her now? Whatever has transpired between (y/n) and I is our business.” He felt bad when he had to put it so coldly. When he had to talk like he didn’t care about such a warm person.

That made Jaime’s fingers twitch at the side of his pommel. “Stand up.”

Raising an elegant, silver, eyebrow, Rhaegar presses his back against the tree that he had chosen to play under. “Do you dare threaten the Prince of Westeros? Someone you’re sworn to protect? You are a member of the King’s Guard, are you not?”

“I want to hear the pathetic excuse you have for hurting my sister.” He growls in reply, his hand finally gripping the hilt of his sword. There was no rational thinking at that moment. All he could hear were (y/n)’s sobbing. All he could see was the tired, heartbroken expression on her face that was devoid of any sun. Rhaegar had broken her. Jaime wasn’t about to let him get away with it. To hell with his vows.

He lifts his sword from his sheath. . .

“Stop right there, Lannister.”

“Connington. Should’ve known you’d be lurking around. Never too far away from your master.” Jaime scoffs and turns around. Jon Connington had snuck up on him, his blade ready and aimed at Jaime.

“Have you lost your bloody mind?” Griff snarls, his red hair bright in the dark.

Rhaegar finally gets to his feet. “Lets all just calm down, shall we?” He had to keep the peace. Or at least try to. One wrong move, one badly chosen word and there would be a fight. Jon Connington was incredibly protective of his Silver Prince. To begin with, Jon didn’t much like the Lannisters. To have one outright threaten Rhaegar? That was too much.

“He was going to harm you!” The red head tried to reason. “This vile lion threatened you!”

“I don’t take too kindly to being called vile.” Counters Jaime.

The situation was escalating quickly. “Enough. Let’s just let bygones be bygones.”

“Then you and your wretched family shouldn’t act like it. Thank the gods that a Lannister won’t be any closer to the throne. Your sister was an ill match.”

“Jon.” Rhaegar says in a warning tone. Even he felt his skin bristle at that. He had always seen the man as a very close friend. A brother even. But Jon Connington never gave (y/n) a chance just because of her last name. He didn’t know her like Rhaegar did. That she wasn’t a golden lion. That she was softer and wielded such a beautiful heart. He didn’t know her at all. He didn’t know that with each glare he sent her, (y/n) wilted. She always wanted people to like her. There weren’t many opportunities for her to make friends at Casterly Rock or Dragonstone. And because she loved Rhaegar so much, she wanted Griff to like her too. She knew that Rhaegar had no better ally than he. Connington didn’t give her a chance. He only saw her as a lion.

Jaime struck him quicker than any serpent. But Griff had anticipated the blow and absorbed it with his steel. *

Thalina led you all the way to the courtyard. Out of breath and even more sweaty now, you wheeze and beg her to slow down. You hear it though. You hear the singing of blades and the yelling of men.

You lift your head up and in the very center you see Rhaegar. You should’ve been more concentrated on the two dueling, but your eyes always managed to lock onto Rhaegar without fail. His harp lay a few feet away from him, forgotten in the chaos. There were guards already running out to his aid at the sound of the struggle. They were more concerned about protecting their prince than stopping the fight. You turn your face to finally find out who it was that was fighting.

Jaime and Jon Connington.

“Do something my lady!”

What could you do? You liked Thalina but sometimes she could be very naive. These were two grown men fighting with deadly swords. You were a young lady much smaller than they were with no fighting skills whatsoever. Connington didn’t like you and Jaime was as stubborn as a mule. These two would not stop fighting even with your presence. If Rhaegar couldn’t stop them then you curely couldn’t.

Sighing you step forward. It’s then that Rhaegar notices you. “(y/n)!”

You notice a halt in Jaime’s swordplay, just after he blocks a blow from Griff. It was just enough for the other guards to wedge themselves between the two and prevent them from attacking each other again. Griff is about to put up a fight until he catches Rhaegar’s reprimanding gaze. He wilts at the harsh lavender irises that were glaring at him. Jaime on the other hand was fighting his captors, nearly frothing at the mouth. You knew Jaime hated anyone who got between him and something that he wanted. And he wanted to fight.

“Jaime, stop this nonsense right now.” You walk toward where three guards have your brother’s arms pinned behind his back although they’re struggling to contain him.

“Lady (y/n), don’t come any closer. It’s dangerous!” One comes in front of you to prevent you from advancing.

Jaime’s wild green eyes flick toward you, his teeth bared. “This cur deserves a beating!”

“You forget yourself, brother.” You warn him. “You’re a King’s Guard. Act like it.” You couldn’t be bothered to even try and have any warmth in your voice. Not after. . .

It still burned fresh in your mind.

Jaime’s lips all over Cersei. His hands seemingly frantic as they groped blindly at her. It just made your skin crawl all over again.

Your words appear to get through to him as Jaime sobers up and straightens his back. He no longer makes any attempts to escape and the other guards ease their grip on him. Jaime looks at you, puzzled at your cold demeanor.

“What should we do, Your Grace?” The others turn to Rhaegar for confirmation.

Rhaegar glances over at Jaime and Griff for a moment before addressing them. “Bring them to my chambers. Tell nothing of this to no one. Especially my father.”

They follow his orders and you try to take that opportunity to escape but Rhaegar calls back to you. Wincing, you stop in your tracks and hesitantly look over your shoulder.

“We. . . We must speak.”

You chew on your bottom lip and curl your fingers. “I’m pretty sure there’s nothing left to speak about.” Feeling your chest clench again made you want to run. You didn’t want to feel that sensation again. You had cried rivers over Rhaegar. You were tired of crying. There really was nothing left to discuss. He didn’t love you. That was simple enough. Sure you could probably still go on to marry him and there not be any love between you two, but the fact that he was in love with someone else was torturous. You knew every day with him in a marriage like that would only kill you considering that you loved him so much.

“I didn’t want to hurt you.” He says woefully.

“And yet you have. You know, I always thought that you would be the last person to hurt me. I thought. . .” Damn. You were gonna cry. You felt it so strongly as if it was going to explode from inside of you. You had kept yourself together so well. The effort it was taking you to hold everything in was draining you. “I’m still such a delusional child. . .”

--------

TAGLIST:

@esposadomd

[alpaca-clouds]

Something I will never understand...

Kinda based on what I wrote yesterday about the entire diferentiation...

You know, something I am never going to understand is the people, who will get super angry over any sort of adaption of whatever media they like. Putting Trevor in here, because I currently see it the most with Castlevania, but I might as well have put in here a gif of Lord of the Rings, the Witcher and what not. Because it is always the same. People, who have gotten to know a fandom through one form of media and then will spend so much effort into... hating any sort of adaption.

Heck, Witcher might be the best example, given that there are book fans hating on either games and Netflix series - and game fans hating the series. And... Probably also series fans who hate the games. And... I don't know.

And quite frankly, I don't get it. Because even if whatever adaption does not do it for you... So what? It did not take away from whatever the original medium you liked was. That medium did not vanish. The Witcher books did not vanish because of either adaption. Heck, contrary, they finally got translations into languages they did not get translated into before. The Castlevania games did not vanish because of the TV series. Same goes basically for any adaption. Chances are in fact quite good that a lot more people got into the original medium through the adaption - and that because of that the original medium was made more accessible to more people.

But guess what: People are gonna think twice about whether they actually want to engage with whatever the original medium was, when they got into the fandom through an adaption and all the fans of whatever original medium do is bash the adaption that made people fall in love with the franchise.

Sure, I get that at times it is frustrating when the adaption has more fans than the original medium and all you want is some fanwork and what not for the original medium.

Heck, Witcher is one of those cases for me. I read those books as a teenager and they mean the world to me. And it is not even as if I dislike any of the adaptions (well, except maybe the first game with its stupid "sexy card collection game" and what not), but I also will very firmly remain in the camp of "neither adaption quite gets the book and what it went for". And I absolutely have experienced people trying to argue something about that world and those characters... who have not read the books or even engaged with what theming there is in the games and series. But I... just ignore it.

I will watch the series as its own thing. And will play at least the second and third game on their own merrit. But yes, the books are my favorite. But... I do not spend time with hating on that stuff.

Heck, I could go on and on for hours about how I disliked what the MCU did with certain storylines frome the comics. But I don't (at least not unless someone asks me about it). Because it is just an absolute waste of time. I can rage about it, sure, but it will not change the way Disney is gonna produce those movies. All it would do is sour the mood for everyone else. The comics are still there. I can still read them. I do not need to watch Iron Man 3 or Avengers 2.

And sure... there are times, when I really get annoyed with adaptions. For example if they white wash and what not. Or just are plain bad (*coughs*Artemis Fowl*coughs*)... But why waste my time thinking and raging about something I do not like - rather than engaging with a thing I actually do like?

Maybe I am just too old for this kinda stuff. I don't know.

Kinda reminds me though of some of my old fandoms. Like Digimon or Pokémon, where with each new itaration people are gonna be up in arms about how much they hate the new thing and how much better old thing was. Going so far to just constantly attack folks who like new thing. Especially new fans, who find their way into the fandom through this.

And it is like... Yeah, you guys do a great job discouraging people from engaging with your fandom. Top. Amazing. Couldn't do it better.

I mean, sure, to me the Witcher games or the Witcher Netflix show will never reach the greatness of the books. But... to others they do. And that is fine. It is fine.

Because I know that telling those people: "You will actually never understand the greatness of the Witcher, because you like those silly games" will not get anyone to actually read or like the books.

[mantis-lizbian]

you know what i hate most about 5e?

Hasbro has stripped everything from it but the Product. and here's what i mean. back in 3e, just about every book you purchased would, on the back, mention how it had an accompanying "web accessory" for free on the D&D website. these accessories would frequently be something like a 3 or 4 page mini-adventure or encounter using the content introduced in the book, or a little extra something cut for space or time. and it's not like there was a proof of purchase or unlock code you had to put in. all of these were freely available to anyone.

and if you went onto the site to find them, you'd find tons of other articles put out by the WotC staff in dozens of columns about things like how to build more engaing encounters, ways you can tweak monsters or classes for a change of pace or to suit a particular design need, insight on how the game was designed or interesting character builds to try out next time. there were even tools to keep track of the phases of the moons in Faerun and Eberron.

in 4e this was pretty much stopped but did sort of carry on in the now-online Dragon and Dungeon magazines. the fact it had a modest price tag was made up for by having more frequent, longer, and more in-depth articles.

early on, 5e had its Plane Shift articles which suggested some kind of continuation, but even before Strixhaven nailed that coffin shut, it had been a long time since they put anything other than their crowdsourced playtesting material, Unearthed Arcana.

there is nothing any more that isn't simply selling you books or being used to cut down on development costs to sell you those books. even the monetization of fan content is simply there so that WotC can get a cut of the pie.

[plethoraworldatlas]

A landslide that struck a remote part of Papua New Guinea on Friday may have killed more than 2,000 people.

The death toll was reported in a letter seen byThe Associated Press that was sent by National Disaster Center Acting Director Luseta Laso Mana to the United Nations resident coordinator on Sunday.

"The landslide buried more than 2,000 people alive and caused major destruction to buildings, food gardens, and caused major impact on the economic lifeline of the country," Mana wrote.

The landslide buried the village of Yambali in Enga Province beneath 20-26 feet of earth, according to U.N. News. It took place at around 3:00 am local time on Friday, May 24.

"It has occurred when people were still asleep in the early hours and the entire village has gone down," Elizabeth Laruma, the president of the Porgera Women in Business Association, told the Australian Broadcasting Corporation (ABC).

Laruma said the entire face of the mountain collapsed, squashing homes. Images showed rescue workers moving around downed trees and boulders. Some of the stones unleashed were larger than shipping containers.

"I have 18 of my family members being buried under the debris and soil that I am standing on, and a lot more family members in the village I cannot count," resident Evit Kambu told Reuters. "But I cannot retrieve the bodies, so I am standing here helplessly."

Initial reports put the death toll at around 100. Then, on Sunday, Serhan Aktoprak, country head of the U.N.'s International Organization for Migration (IOM), said that approximately 670 people were thought to be buried under the debris and that "hopes of finding them alive are shrinking."

It is not clear how the government reached its figure of more than 2,000 dead, and IOM has not altered its figures.

"We are not able to dispute what the government suggests but we are not able to comment on it," Aktoprak told AP, adding, "As time goes in such a massive undertaking, the number will remain fluid."

The landslide covered 150 homes and displaced around 1,250 people, according to IOM. It also blocked off the only highway traveling into the affected province, making rescue operations more difficult. So far, only five bodies have been pulled from the debris, according to AP. Rescue workers and survivors had been attempting to dig people out of the earth with shovels and farm equipment until the first excavator was donated by a local construction business on Sunday.

In the letter to the U.N., Mana said the ground was still shifting, making the situation "unstable" and posing "ongoing danger to both the rescue teams and survivors alike."

There have also been challenges delivering aid to the survivors: a Saturday delivery brought tarps and water but no food, while the local government gathered food and water on Sunday for only 600 people, The New York Times reported.

"This situation necessitates immediate action and international support to mitigate further losses and provide essential aid to those affected," IOM spokesperson Anne Mandal told the Times.

...

The cause of Friday's landslide is under investigation, according toThe Washington Post, but some people in the area have attributed it to a lightning strike or a month of heavy rainfall. The mountain was also already unstable because of a previous landslide, according to U.S. Geological Survey geologist Kate Allstadt.

Papua New Guinea is often struck by fatal landslides, according to ABC. Partly this is because it is a mountainous, tropical country on the Ring of Fire, where both heavy rainstorms and seismic events can destabilize hillsides. It also has a poor, rural population who are more likely to live in a landslide's path.

However, human activities also increase the risk, with industries such as mining, logging, and liquefied natural gas destabilizing terrain or contributing to deforestation. The climate crisis also makes extreme weather events that trigger landslides more likely.

[dubairealestate24]

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Market Trends: Analyze recent sales in your area and compare similar properties. Look at the average time houses stay on the market and identify trends that could impact your sale.

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2. Setting a Competitive Price

Pricing your house correctly is one of the most critical factors in achieving a quick sale. Overpricing can deter potential buyers, while underpricing can lead to a quick sale but at a financial loss.

Competitive Pricing: Set a competitive price based on your market analysis. Consider pricing slightly below market value to attract more buyers and create a bidding war.

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Flyers and Brochures: Create high-quality flyers and brochures with detailed information and attractive photos. Distribute them in your neighborhood and at local businesses.

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Effective marketing is essential for selling your house quickly. By combining digital and traditional marketing techniques, enhancing your home’s appeal, and leveraging professional expertise, you can attract more buyers and achieve a fast sale.

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[finniestoncrane]

3, 24, and 38 for the questions post pls! I hope you're having a good day

kjkhasd THANK YOU i hope you are having the nicest day omg

3. 3 films you could watch for the rest of your life and not get bored of?

there already are three films i watch constantly and have not been bored of and those are shaun of the dead, [rec], and the 2004 remake of dawn of the dead u-u

what's one thing you're proud of yourself for?

hmmmm... i'm proud that i came back to tumblr and started having fun again! engaing with fandom, losing the cringe, being free and silly!

fav song at the moment?

sometimes a song just gets stuck in my head and unfortunately that song is the holiday rap right now. i made a presentation for my husband where i broke down each bit of it that made my brain tingle

[alitwebster]

Closed starter for @aindreisblythe

10:24 pm  Text from “Angel face” : Almost here.

Text to “Angel face” : In the greenhouse. 

The apartment as you discovered it when you finally arrived was an absolute chaos. The table was still covered in half-finished plates surrounding the once beautiful table runner and decorations Ali had put up to greet your family tonight. The TV showed an interrupted “chill night” playlist, and the silence in the house was deafening. Was everybody sleeping, or had they left already ? You clearly weren’t going to knock on everyone’s door, that wasn’t proper, and given how late you were, pretty disrespectful, so you only had one choice if you wanted answers and Ali knew it : Up to the rooftop greenhouse you went. Your partner knew what he was doing when he decided to climb up here and let you come up to him. He knew that from up here, nobody would hear you, and he knew that he wasn’t going to let you leave before you had figured your shit out. This greenhouse had already been the scene of so many moments, cute moments. Ali hated that it was going to become the scene of what he had to tell you right now. He resented you being late even more because of that. You had fucked up. Bad. 2:56 pm Text to “Angel face” : Hey love, I just received a text from your mother asking where you are. Their plane landed half an hour ago. Are you okay ? 

At this point, Ali was just worried. He had received no text from you saying you’d be late, and it was your family we were talking about. The move to East Haven had meant you were, once again, very far from them. As he got to know your story a little better, Ali understood what your family meant to you. So he just reassured your parents, told them to take their time, grab something to eat and rest, while you were finishing up work. 3:15 pm Text to “Angel face” : Still no news, guess you’re stuck somewhere. I’ll tell them to wait for you in a café. 

That was when worry got mixed in with some anger. What were you doing ? The plan was clear, it had been from the very beginning. You were picking them up from the airport, Ali had bought bus tickets in advance for all of them to reach East Haven safely, and then, after a small tour of the city center, you were to bring them to the apartment, where Ali would greet them with a nice dinner, altogether. It was all planned out. The only thing you had to do, was be on time, and you weren’t. And Ali was here, in the apartment, not knowing what he should do. Maybe you were on your way ? Maybe your phone died and you couldn’t respond ? He was sure you took your charger with you this morning. And well, Gemini surely had chargers hidden in some drawers. 3:45 pm Text to “Angel face” : Alright I’ll go pick them up. You had replied, stating you were sorry, that something at work came up, and you didn’t see what time it was. These days, something was always happening at work. So no, Ali wasn’t surprised. It was worse. He was disappointed, and sad. He couldn’t imagine the reactions your parents would have. Well, they’d be polite, that went without saying, but how would they feel ? Sure, Ali and your family got along well, but they weren’t here to spend time with Ali. On his way to the airport, Ali got angrier, and angrier. He ordered a taxi for the people that wouldn’t be able to fit in his car, and told Celeste that they all should wait for him outside of their terminal. He would be their guide for the rest of the afternoon, while they were - all - waiting for you. In front of them, Ali remained calm, and smiled. Your father had this calm, quiet aura that Ali loved, your mother was a sunshine, and Danny was…well, Danny. They were cordial. But Ali being Ali, made the most of the situation. Once the suitcases were all in the guests’ respective rooms, he took them out for a nice cup of tea and cake. “Oh it’s a shame Andy can’t be here with us, that weather is lovely.” said your mother, around 5:15. 

Ali was clearly embarrassed. He’d noticed the engagement ring on Rose’s finger, and past the greetings, it didn’t feel right having to entertain your family, when they were here to discover where you both lived and worked. You should be here. You should have, but you weren’t. They went back to the apartment around 6:30, and Ali had a moment alone when each of them unpacked and took turn in the bathroom. text to “Angel face”, 6:50pm : I know you’re stuck, but I think today, your priorities should lie elsewhere. I feel like a fool. I’m mad. I love you tho. Idiot. Being in silence helped a bit, and a quiet, smoke break in the greenhouse relaxed him before going back down and serving the appetizer. “Well, Andy warned me he is going to be stuck there a while. We should start without him. He’ll miss on that delicious food I made, his loss.” Ali joked, while getting everything ready on the table, with the help of Rose and Neil. 

And at first, that dinner was, indeed, delicious. The food as much as the conversation going on. East Haven, things that were happening in Scotland, news from other members of the family, photos they had to share and couldn’t wait for you to come back to get them out. Ali was having a great time. So when did everything go to shit ? He had absolutely no idea. Between the appetizers and the main course, Ali had gone off to the kitchen on his own, and because the whole conversation was in sign language, he hadn’t heard the shift in conversation subjects. However when he came back, the smile on your mother’s lips had dried, and the rest of your guests were embarrassingly looking at random objects on the table. If they tried to go back to the way they were talking before Ali left, it all seemed superficial now, and Ali made the mistake of asking if everything was okay. From that moment onward, they were all signing too fast, and Ali couldn’t follow. He raised his voice, and just heard a “that’s between Danny and me.” from your mother. They continued yelling with their hands for a moment before Ali, who wasn’t really looking anymore heard a “I think we’ll go to bed” from your mother. “The dinner was amazing Ali. We’ll see Aindreis in the morning, if that’s okay with you.” And so Ali nodded, and coughed. Five minutes later, he didn’t even know if they were all actually in their bedrooms. He didn’t know what to do with himself, and the whiplash of everything that had just happened was intense. He didn’t understand a thing, other than his name being mentioned, and yours, and some other words he wasn’t able to put back in meaningful sentences. He was so ashamed, so embarrassed. Had he done something wrong ? Sure, Danny and he didn’t get along very well, but that couldn’t have been the reason of this scene, right ? For an hour, Ali recreated the evening in his mind, but then decided to isolate himself once again in the greenhouse, this time with the bottle of white wine he had opened for dinner. When you finally came back home, the bottle was almost empty, and Ali had been sitting in silence for a long while, rehearsing what he was going to tell you. What was there even to say ? You were aware of the mistakes you made, and the evening had been so chaotic the man didn’t even know where to start. When he finally turned his head to see you, his eyes were swollen with past tears that had dried on his cheeks. 

“They’re all asleep, I think.” He coughed out, before emptying his current glass. “I trust you’ll forgive me for not having cleaned the dinner table just yet, it was a pretty interesting scene to watch back, from an outsider’s perspective.” 

[vetoing-clocks]

Title: Ceremonials

Summary:

Being the king didn't make Kaoru any more worthy of Kojiro.

If anything, it only made it more obvious how little he deserved him.

Characters: Sakurayashiki Kaoru | Cherry Blossom, Nanjo Kojiro | Joe, Kojiro’s mom, Aiichiro Shindo, background and cameo characters

Pairings: matchablossom | joecherry. Background implied/mentioned tad//aai and r//enga

Fandom: SK8 the Infinity

Rating: E(xplicit)

Notes:

3 chapters (25.2k words)

Fantasy + Royalty AU

Knight!Kojiro, King!Kaoru

Trans Kojiro

Sequel to “Accolade”

For reasons Kaoru couldn’t figure out, Kojiro had decided at some point in his life that he loved him. Then some miracle had made him stay in love with him through the years. Often, Kaoru suspected that he’d simply been lucky and pretty enough to meet Kojiro before he realized that love was built on more than fascination, after which Kojiro had been too stubborn to stop loving him. The man was the sort that committed to his nonsense once he started it, and his feelings for Kaoru, after all the suffering they’d brought him, was the ultimate form of nonsense. Of course he wouldn’t want to admit his foolishness, not even to himself.

Following that logic, it could have been argued that Kaoru should have tried to be a good person and rejected Kojiro when his affections came to light. The problem with that idea, however, was that Kojiro loved Kaoru, and Kaoru would give Kojiro anything and everything he asked for. If Kojiro wanted him, he’d have him.

As soon as he had the chance, Kaoru gave Kojiro his mind, body and soul, and disguised the offering as a marriage proposal. Kojiro cried. Kaoru held strong.

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