#even these things are not entirely strictly correct

[deathbxnny]

hi,may I request some headcanons about Victor, Silco, Ekko and Jayce (and if you can Jinx?) about caring and being with a S/O with ED. thank you! i apologize if the pronouns are not correct, I don't speak english ((

Arcane men with an S/O that has an ED. | Viktor, Silco, Jayce, Ekko x Gn!Reader

Hello anon! I decided to only write about the four men you chose first because of the limit, so I hope that's okay for you! Thank you otherwise for your request, and I hope you'll enjoy this!<33

Content: TW!!EATING DISORDERS, some angst, established romantic relationships, hurt/comfort, fluff, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns.

((Not proofread))

》VIKTOR

Viktor is the first person to immideatly notice the slow shift in your eating habits, yet doesn't confront you about it immideatly. Instead, he simply observes you for a moment to make sure what he was seeing was correct since he obviously didn't want to assume anything... but it was hard for him to ignore how unhealthy it was becoming.

You were trying your best to hide it from him, perhaps out of guilt or simply subconsciously, but it did little to throw him off. He would never outright tell you to your face that he knew and would try to correct your eating by making you have your meals with him. He always has an excuse as to why you should, and thankfully, you can never say no to him, but even that doesn't help in the long run.

When things get too out of hand and your methods become too self-destructive, he finally finds the courage to sit you down and stage an intervention. His approach is gentle and understanding, as he guids you through the next steps and comforts you as much as he can.

He'll compliment you and give you all the reassurance needed during your recovery. Viktor knows that you still have a long way to go, but he isn't going anywhere and wouldn't dream of letting you go through this alone. He's there for you and makes sure you know that as well.

》SILCO

He only noticed that something was seriously wrong when you lost too much weight in a dangerously short amount of time. It wasn't unusual for people in Zaun to be a little malnourished due to their circumstances, but never this much. Especially not when you were dating a drug lord who could afford all types of food.

And so, he just bluntly confronts you about it, never the type to beat around the bush anyway. But he'll still be gentle and careful, the worry clear in his voice as he wonders if it's a physical issue. What he didn't expect, however, was you breaking down and telling him all about your problems, and thankfully, he listened and acted on them.

Your recovery is strictly supervised by him, and he makes it a point to take every meal together. The only way to leave the table is by eating every crumb he gives you. But that's not the only thing he focuses on. From what he understood, the issue came from deeply rooted insecurities inside you, which made him compliment and reassure you often. He may not be the best with words, but it's clear that he means it well which helps.

Silco doesn't entirely understand why you have an eating disorder, but he's nothing short of supportive and caring despite his reputation. He doesn't want you to hurt yourself, or even worse, die on him after all.

》JAYCE

He noticed your self-esteem issues getting worse and worse as time went on, which immideatly alerted him. Jayce knew that there was definitely a bigger issue at hand than simple insecurities and, therefore, at first attempts to just uplift you with compliments and praise. But he isn't foolish enough to believe that that would make everything go away.

Eventually requesting to talk to you, the man sits you down for a long talk about your disordered eating habits and asks you if there is something or someone making you feel bad about yourself. All you really need to do is confide in him, and he'll take it from there, determined to make everything right again.

Jayce takes makes dinner for the both of you that you share together, even going as far as to carefully feed you himself when necessary. He praises you for every plate you finish and for every therapy session you complete. He's just so proud of you!

He definitely makes more time for you in his rather busy schedule, just to make sure that you don't fall back into your disorder. The man wants you to be healthy and happy no matter how much work he misses. You're worth that.

》Ekko

Due to how busy he is as a Firelight, it takes him a moment to notice anything wrong with you. He's become so secure in knowing that nothing could hurt you under his wing, without realizing that it was you who was the "enemy" now. Or rather your disorder. And so when he does come to that said realisation, his heart drops and he immideatly takes action.

He immideatly intervenes you by making you sit down and talk out about what exactly triggered this extreme shift in eating habits. Hearing you mention your struggle with your appearance and weight made his heart ache, as he reiterates how much he loves you and thinks you're perfect. Ekko promises to help you, too, one way or another.

Due to your lack of proper medical resources, however, he comes up with a makeshift plan that helps with your recovery. He takes every meal with you and makes sure you know you're loved and appreciated by everyone in the hideout. You're allowed to take space and wants you to know exactly that.

Ekko is proud to see your progress and praises you every chance he gets. He wants to be at your side forever, no matter how you look like.

[sukirichi]

[ DUSK ‘TILL DAWN : 011 ]

“we who bear the burden of the crown do not need to love. you only need to stay here, with me, in power, in greed, in lust – in victory.”

cw. 18+.modern royal au. infidelity. angst. reader is confused with her feelings. toxic characters. toxic relationships. smut. unedited. implied dub-con. smoking. getting drunk. physical violence.

notes. @sunasbabie bullied me into updating so here it is. alsoo the start of suna’s downfall arc???

wc. 11.8k

series masterlist 

[ ELEVEN ] I care, I care, I care like perfume that you wear, I linger all the time, watchin’, hidden in plain sight. ooh I try, I try, I try, but it takes over my life. I see you everywhere, the sweetest torture one could bear

Rintaro had known from a very young age he was different.

He had brothers, quite a number of them, and yet even when everyone had their own maids and butlers, Rintaro stuck out like a sore thumb. For one, they were strictly not allowed to call him by his name. He was never Rintaro – always His Highness or Crown Prince. He was never allowed to play with his brothers, either, despite being close in age to most of them. Instead, he stood watching from the windows of his study as they frolicked and lived like normal boys. They attended school, played sports, made friends – the normal way of living, even for Princes. But Rintaro wasn’t like that. Her Majesty had different expectations for him. That because he was the only son of the King and Queen, he simply had to be better than the rest.

No, he had to be the best, and he believed it at some point.

Until Her Majesty announced it was about time he learned some ‘proper socializing’ into society. She’d enrolled him in the same private academy as his brothers, got chauffeured to and fro, and was expected to give nothing but the best of grades when he returned. It sounded simple enough – study, excel, and prepare himself for the throne.

No one had warned him that high school came with other unexpected surprises, one that came in the form of a brown eyed beauty he’d been eyeing since his first day.

Her name was Iris – top of the class, all long, lean legs, and a mop of long, wavy hair. It was hard not to notice her. She was popular, in the way that everyone asked her for her notes, and you could trust her to whisper the correct answer when you’d been called to recite in the middle of the class. An academic overachiever, a teacher’s pet – they all had some sort of name for her. A stickler for the rules, too, always appropriately dressed and speaking in polite, clipped tones. She spoke in a manner elders would love, and Rintaro found that fact rather endearing. He wasn’t a great reader of people, but he could tell one thing: Iris was not her true self.

Her smile might be respectful, but something about the way her lips twitched when being told what to do gave him an idea that perhaps she wasn’t as obedient as she made herself to be. And she was always helping others, putting others before herself, but she never did it looking satisfied.

Rather, it seemed that her actions always stemmed from one thing: obligation.

Iris was not who she is because it was her, down to her nature, but because she felt she had to be. It was such a quality Rintaro resonated with. To deny oneself, and to put duty and order first. They both walked with stiffness in their shoulders, with the weight of the world on their heads. They were simply too young to be caring about such. And Rintaro found it unfair – how they’d been deprived of their right to normalcy and had a future they never even wanted shoved down their throats. He couldn’t speak entirely for her, of course.

They had entirely different backgrounds – with Iris as a foreign scholar, who had to work twice as hard to prove she was worthy as any local, and then there was Rintaro, who couldn’t really tell which parts of him were himself, or fabricated by the throne.

They were both young people who lied to themselves. And strangely enough, he found comfort in that. He found comfort in her. He felt less alone when she was around, and she’d definitely made her presence known. Whether it be slipping notes into his desk and walking away without a word, or sharing her milkbread with him during lunch – which he found hilarious, yet cute – or when she simply made the effort to get to know him.

Not the Crown Prince, but Rintaro.

She began to ask things about himself that he’d never thought of before. Like what his favorite food was – he blanked out, because he wasn’t supposed to be picky with food, so he just ate anything. Or what his favorite game was, and sometimes, she’d even asked him to teach her, even if bringing cell phones in class were prohibited.

She made him feel like a real person. She didn’t treat him specially; she didn’t swoon or fall to her feet when he entered a room. She spoke to him normally, treated him like a friend when no one would dare call him as such.

To her, he was just Rintaro. He could just be. And before he’d realized it, he began to look for her – in the hallways, watching her talk to her friends, or being curious on what snacks she brought so he could buy some for her next time, or intentionally trying to get partnered with her on any project.

But he hadn’t fallen for her.

Not until that day they’d rain poured over them unexpectedly, and they retreated under the nearest tree. Class had long been dismissed, and pretty much everyone had left – save for the two of them due to a late tutoring session. Rintaro struggled with English, but Iris was great at everything. And it was also a good excuse to spend more time together.

“You know, you’re different from what I expected,” Iris spoke, tilting her head up to catch some raindrops falling from the leaves with the tip of her finger. “When they said the Crown Prince was going to attend class, I figured you would be more… uptight. Strict. Or, you know, perhaps more arrogant than your brother.”

Rintaro fought the urge what she thought of him now. He’d become curious about it lately, unhealthily so. He wanted her to like him, to think positively of him – to be more than just ‘handsome’ or ‘charming’ or ‘regal.’ Because he most definitely wasn’t regal around her. He could be more himself, which is why he slouched, learned to smoke, longed for a tattoo, and even learned how to curse. Because he wasn’t Crown Prince Rintaro. He was just a normal high school student, Rin. Rin who stood under a tree while rain poured heavily against the pavement, next to a pretty girl who wore strawberry flavored chapstick and introduced him to a world he never imagined he could be part of.

If she had said he was regal, and well-mannered, he would’ve taken offense. But he didn’t ask, turning his gaze away from the way Iris leaned back against the damp tree and pulled out a cigarette. Even the way she smoked had him fascinated because it meant as a sign of trust to him.

The good, perfect student Iris was no longer perfect around him. She trusted him enough to let her guard down, and reveal her flaws. She had no need to impress him. In return, it made him want to impress her by mimicking her habits – even if he would’ve never dared doing them before.

“I have a lot of arrogant brothers. Which one are you talking about?”

“The ridiculously tall and talkative brunette in our year.”

“Tooru,” he said, gladly accepting when she offered him a stick. He didn’t light it though, because he was on his way home and didn’t want to reek of smoke. Well, if he was to be completely honest, he hated smoking. He didn’t like the way it burned his throat and made it itchy. But Iris smoked often, and she revealed more about herself each time she did, so he joined her. Everything he did was for her.

“Iris, why do you speak so casually to me?”

She shrugged and puffed out a smoky breath. “You just looked lonely. And everyone treats you like you’re fragile – always stumbling over their words or being excessively polite. I can tell it makes you uncomfortable, so… But if you truly mind, I can stick to the formalities. I just thought you might want someone to treat you like a normal person.”

“No, I-I don’t mind,” he reassured, “I like that you speak to me normally.”

“So, friends?”

He chuckled at that, and he didn’t stop her when she took out her lighter and lit her cigarette for him. He supposed one couldn’t hurt. “We have been friends for months now.”

“I know,” she beamed, “I’m just waiting to be invited over to your fancy Palace for tea parties.”

“I don’t even like tea.”

“Shame. I would’ve killed for some expensive drinks.”

And so their unexpected friendship began until they were practically attached to the hip. Wherever Iris went, Rintaro followed. She’d started calling him ‘Rin’ too, and Rin had to hide how much he liked it. He blushed madly each time he did, and it didn’t help that Iris had become more physically comfortable with him – locking arms together when they walked in the hallway, absentmindedly brushing his bangs back during their tutoring sessions, or laying on his lap when she had a book to read as they hid in the corner of the library. Each touch of her skin against his sent heat to his groin. It embarrassed him, because he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about his ‘friend’ like that, but could you blame him? He was a growing teenager. He wasn’t immune to a pretty girl’s subtle touches.

“You know, you can make it less obvious that you’re staring at the scholar.”

Glancing away from Iris playing volleyball with her friends, Rintaro glared at his brother. He shared classes with Tooru, but otherwise barely spoke to him. Tooru was too loud and confident; a little flashy for his liking. He also basked in the attention he received from the girls, shamelessly flirting with them and getting their hopes up.

Rintaro thought he was an ass.

“Shut up.”

“Well, well, can you believe that? I believe the Crown Prince just uttered a vulgar phrase that would surely displease Her Majesty. I wonder if she’ll ground you tonight for being such a naughty Prince.”

Rintaro glared at him, gesturing to Tooru’s childhood friend lurking in the corner. “Don’t you have anything better to do? Like reject that poor girl showering you with gifts again?”

Tooru sighed, and upon seeing Maiko’s face light up when he looked her way, he bid his farewell. “Don’t remind me.”

His brother suddenly disappeared. He almost felt bad for Maiko, the heiress from the Rai Clan. She grew up having multiple play dates with Tooru, and they’d been close all the way to middle school when she grew a crush on him – a crush nearly bordering on obsession. When she invited him over to play with her new puppy around the ninth grade, Tooru was met with a ten feet portrait of him in her bedroom. Tooru hadn’t spoken to her ever since. But the poor girl was too innocent to understand his rejections, and she kept following him like a lost puppy.

Not that Rintaro was concerned. Neither was his brother concerned with him, anyway, so they stayed out of each other’s way until they graduated.

Sometimes, Rintaro still wished he never graduated at all. Maybe Iris wouldn’t have disappeared, then. She didn’t have a phone, so they couldn’t keep in contact, but even if she did have a phone, Rintaro wouldn’t be allowed to be casually conversing with ‘commoners.’ Her Majesty would hate it. And he wasn’t certain where she went. Perhaps university, but last he’d heard, Iris was occupied with dealing with some family matters, and Rintaro stopped prying. Her family was one of the things Iris never spoke of. But from what little he knew, she only had a loving mother who did her very best to raise her alone.

Rintaro would’ve never expected that when they saw each other again, they would run into one another at the Palace, of all places. “Iris?” he couldn’t believe his eyes. Had he missed her so much he was beginning to hallucinate? “I don’t understand. What are you doing here?”

Iris looked like a deer caught in headlights.

He almost couldn’t recognize her. It’d been years since he last saw her and spoke with her, but she seemed entirely different now. She’d gone back to speaking in those forced, clipped tones, her posture perfect, and her smile a little stiff for it to be genuine. She’d been lying again to herself and to the world, but he couldn’t understand why. Rintaro still found it hard to believe that she stood in front of him, draped in lace dresses with the Royal emblem pinned to her right breast in the way royals did.

In the way he did.

“Your Highness,” she said, her tone sweet and airy, as she curtsied. Rintaro felt his stomach twist. This wasn’t the Iris he’d liked for so long. Iris didn’t speak sweetly, or said her words like she treaded on air and had that breathy, ridiculously feminine laugh. Iris’ voice was raspy from constant smoking, and when she spoke, it was always carefree. She never called him by his official title before, so why was she doing it now?

Rintaro couldn’t shake the feeling he was being betrayed.

“You mustn’t have been informed. I’m…”

“Do you serve the crown now?”

“No, no! Not quite in that way,” she smiled, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. It was then he noticed the ring sitting on her finger. “I was married to your brother last night, my Prince.”

“Which brother?”

“Prince Kiyoomi.”

He felt like his world had been crushed.

He was never a hopeless romantic, but he was learning. She’d taught him what girls liked. And he… he thought she liked him, too. She must have, right? If she didn’t, she wouldn’t be staring at his lips when he talked. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t hold his hand and rub circles along his knuckles when they were alone together in the library. Or had he just fooled himself all this time? Was he really nothing but a friend to her?

Rintaro felt foolish all over again.

He felt like he was seven years old once more, holding back his tears while Her Majesty lashed at the backs of his thighs because he wasn’t able to memorize a clause from the Royal Acts and Commands. He heard the word ‘stupid, idiotic, slow,’ and ‘foolish’ resonating at the study room again, while his tutor shook his head in disappointment. Taking a step back, Rintaro released a shuddering breath. He wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt. Surely, she wouldn’t befriend him just to make a fool out of him, but if she did… she would pay. He was the Crown Prince. He would become King. He would punish her, humiliate her and put her in her place if she treated him cruelly – but nothing could have prepared him for Iris stepping forwards, eyes drooping with sultriness as her palms flattened against his chest.

Stepping on her tiptoes, she pressed her lips to his.

“But I wish it had been you.”

When she kissed him for the first time, Rintaro knew one thing for certain – she had ruined him for anyone else.

Rintaro isn’t a man quick to anger, but he was getting there.

To leave him for a trip with another man was one thing, but to completely leave him on radio silence was another. A whole week you’ve been gone and not once had you texted. No calls, no voicemails, not even an e-mail. He felt like he had no wife, and quite frankly, your determination to pretend he didn’t exist was getting on his nerves. What had he done wrong, anyway? Hadn’t he been sweet to you before you left? He wasn’t going to deny he made mistakes, but he was putting effort into making it all better. He hadn’t spoken to Iris when you were around. He ignored her, and avoided her even when you weren’t in the same room. And he fucking hated it – because why did you make him feel like he was a cheater when he loved her first?

And now, you were messing with his head. He was certain you were.

Apart from some photographs the paparazzi took of you shopping with Kanami, or sharing lunch with her or having coffee dates, he hadn’t seen you with Kiyoomi. He hadn’t the smallest clue what you were doing. Were you sleeping well? Better without him, maybe? Did you miss him, too, or were you just glad to finally be away from him?

He was going insane with every passing second you didn’t speak to him.

“You’ve been unusually quiet.”

Iris’ voice flittering through the loud noise of the music snapped him back to the present. Right. He was at a party attended by celebrities and models, with liquor in red cups and suspicious leaves and powder being passed to one another – the type of parties a Crown Prince shouldn’t be seen at. But the twins had insisted, claiming he should enjoy himself and ‘do whatever the fuck he wants’ since he didn’t have a wife around to criticize him. He thought it was stupid. He didn’t want to do anything to upset you, but Iris wanted to come along out of boredom – Kiyoomi was away fulfilling their duties for them as mediator between two countries, so she had nothing better to do. Besides, Rintaro figured Iris had been itching for these environments. She’d played the docile and agreeable Princess role for several years now. She must be tired of it, and as soon as she saw the opportunity to let loose and be her true self, she wouldn’t dare let it pass.

And maybe his brothers were right. There was nothing wrong with just taking some time for himself. If you could do it, why couldn’t he?

However, he couldn’t convince himself he enjoyed this party he was in. People were making out at dark corners of the hall, and he was pretty sure there were illegal activities happening tonight. Iris didn’t bat an eye on it. The twins, too, seemed to be enjoying themselves as they flirted with a model he’d seen before, but couldn’t care enough to remember the name of.

“Sorry,” Rintaro said, “I just have a lot on my mind these days.”

“Is it her? You can’t stop looking at your phone.”

Grimacing, he offered her an apologetic smile. Iris didn’t look jealous, but then again, it was hard to tell under the dim lights, and not when she was hugging her fifth cup of whatever foul-smelling liquor she seemed to indulge in. But neither did he want to offend her by lying, so he slid his phone back into the pocket of his jeans and feigned disinterest. “She hasn’t texted or called since she left. I have no idea how she’s doing at all,” he glanced at her, “Has Kiyoomi texted you?”

“As if that would happen,” she chugged her drink and gestured to the doors. “Let’s go. I need some fresh air.”

They exited and walked all the way to the balcony. On their way there, Iris hugged his bicep and leant against him, causing the passing by hotel staff to eye them warily. But Iris couldn’t care less, and Rintaro leveled the staff with a warning glare. They should know better than to say anything. Tonight, the world was theirs. Iris was in his arms, as free as they could be, as free as he always hoped, and he swore he wasn’t going to think about you.

With the fresh air kissing his exposed skin, Rintaro immediately felt better. He wasn’t surrounded by the stench of alcohol anymore. He could breathe better here. Leaning against the railings, he and Iris overlooked the Kingdom of Inarizaki laying beneath their feet.

At one point in time, he promised to give all of this to the woman beside him. They’d talked about having children and raising them in the Palace. How they would make great monarchs, and they could finally be powerful while still being free. With them on top of the world, no one could tell them what to do. They could simply be themselves. But just a hundred times better, because Iris would be beside him and sharing the burden of the Crown.

At least, until Rintaro realized none of that felt right.

You were his wife. He didn’t want to share this Kingdom with anyone else but you, although there was a more worrisome voice whispering at the back of his head – Rintaro didn’t want to share you with this world. He wanted to hide you and keep you for himself. He didn’t want you anywhere Kiyoomi, or Tooru. You were his. He was yours. He’s your husband, and you his wife.

You should be the one here with him, and he should be there with you.

Did you feel the same way, too?

Iris lit up a cigarette. Before he could think better of it, he snatched one from her and she lit it up for him, just like she did when they were younger. Her brows rose at his sudden eagerness, “You haven’t smoked since you met her.”

“I didn’t want her to think I smelled.”

“What’s the change?” she teased, “No longer worried she’ll think you reek because you’re married?”

“I just need the distraction.”

“Do you miss her?”

“I’m just worried.” He gritted his teeth, not liking how all of this just felt… wrong. Iris smelled too much of the old perfume she wore when they were teenagers, and it made him nostalgic in the worst kind of possible. Like recalling a childhood memory you thought was great at the time, but growing up completely changes your perspective on it. Rintaro hated it – how he tasted bitterness at something he once craved so much. Worse, he couldn’t keep lying to himself. He didn’t know where his heart was at yet, but something was different.

He desperately wanted to see you.

“I feel like… I feel like she’s going to leave me, Iris. Something’s changed.”

“You’ve changed, Rin,” she snapped, throwing her cigarette on the ground and stomping at it. Rintaro frowned; he’d seen her do it before when they were kids, but seeing her still do it now confirmed his theory: Iris still had her mean temper. She could never hide it even under silk dresses and velvet gloves. “You haven’t been the same since the honeymoon. I feel like we left behind the old you, and the one that came back is someone I barely know.”

Rintaro couldn’t deny it even if he wanted to. She was right. He’d changed. He didn’t know why, or how, but maybe he was falling in love. Could he be? No… maybe he just missed you. Maybe he just hated the way you seemed so resigned and distant when you left.

“I’m sorry,” was all he could tell her, because Rintaro was too lost.

“Are you changing your mind about me?”

“No, no. Gods, I would never. I just – I’m confused, okay? She’s mad at me, and she just left. What if she never speaks to me again?”

“She will. She’s your wife.”

“You don’t even speak to your husband,” Rintaro argued, and Iris rolled her eyes. Once, he would’ve found her irritation appealing. But directed at him? He just felt like he was being looked down on.

“That’s different. You know, Rin, if you’ve changed your mind about me, it’s okay. I already knew before this most likely wouldn’t work out, and even if you did become King and legalized divorces, what would happen, then? I’ll be your concubine,” she sneered, as if the mere thought sickened her. “People would reduce me into nothing but a whore. I don’t want to be hated just because I wanted you.”

Rintaro pursed his lips. Sure, the title ‘concubine’ didn’t come with many good meanings. But it was all he could give her. He couldn’t imagine making her his wife. Iris had too much of a temper for that, and with all the pretending and acts she puts on, he didn’t trust her enough to treat his people right when she wielded enough power.

She wasn’t kind like you.

She wasn’t like you.

He knew all of this, had realized it just now, yet he couldn’t bring himself to just go back. Running his hands through his hair, he sighed in defeat. “I’ve already gone this far. It’s a little too late to tell me to change my mind, you know?”

“I’m just reminding you this was your choice, not mine. And don’t forget if you do legalize divorces, and Kiyoomi and I did separate, does that mean you’ll divorce her, too?”

He threw his hands up in the air, frustrated. “Why are you asking me this?”

“Because I’m not a whore, Rin. I’ve changed my mind. I no longer want to be just your sidepiece, your secret lover. I have been here with you before people even acknowledged your existence. I was here first. Don’t you think it’s unfair she gets to have you in all your glory and I can only have you in secret? Like what we feel for each other is something to be ashamed of,” tears pricked at her eyes, and Iris angrily wiped them away. Rintaro was frozen to his spot. He didn’t even feel like reaching to wipe them for her – his mind was just in a different place entirely. His exhaustion ran bone deep.

“If you want me to divorce Kiyoomi when you become King, you should divorce her too.”

“That wasn’t the plan. You said you were fine being a concubine–”

“It’s either me or her, Rin. Choose. Who will be your wife? Me or her?”

“You. It’s always going to be you.”

“Do you promise?”

“It’s just you!” he barked, surprising both himself and Iris. He’d never raised his tone with her before, yet there was no denying it – he was changing. Iris knew this, too, and Rintaro could tell by the wicked glint in her eye that she would use this against him.

Rintaro didn’t think twice before he slammed his lips to hers.

If she couldn’t be convinced with words, he would convince her with their bodies. It was how they communicated anyway – all arguments would always be resolved in the bedroom. They stumbled together back to his hotel room, lips only leaving one another’s for a brief moment to breathe, before they were clawing at each other’s clothes. She let out her rage on him by pushing him back to the bed, with her on top and ripping his shirt, uncaring of the remnants. When she kissed him, it was everything but sweet. He tasted nothing but hatred and pure anger as she shoved her tongue down his throat, and he choked, tightening his grip on her hips while she bounced.

They did not make love.

They simply shared their bodies for a lack of better things to say. He bruised her and fucked her hard enough the headboard slammed against the wall because he couldn’t say he missed you. She marked his skin with hickeys and claw marks down his back because she didn’t want to hear him say he missed you.

At talking, Rintaro and Iris lacked at.

But they spoke well enough with the violence of their bodies that by the end of the night, they both knew – Rintaro’s heart was no longer in the same room as them.

You took it with you from a thousand miles away.

Rintaro couldn’t sleep the entire night. Iris had passed out as soon as she’d satisfied herself, and after hogging the sheets all to herself, he’d given up on trying to sleep. It felt wrong to share the same bed with her, anyway. So he got up, showered, and scrolled on the latest news to look for you again. Still nothing – but apparently Itachiyama’s citizens were looking forward to you and Kiyoomi attending a movie’s premiere night.

He clutched his phone hard enough it shut off. Sighing, he leaned back against his seat on the couch, an arm draped around his arm. He’d gone past the borders of being pathetic. Now, he was just eager to see his wife again, but he had no way of communicating with you. So like the pathetic fool he was, he couldn’t stop himself from scrolling for hours when a rapid knocking banged down on his door. Frowning, he opened it, and was met with a shirtless Atsumu wrapped in nothing but a towel – his eyes bloodshot red, though he suspected, not from crying.

“‘Tsumu, what the fuck?” His brother reeked of alcohol and sex. Pinching his nose, he scanned the hallway for witnesses before opening his door wider. Atsumu scurried in without a word and plopped down on the seat, his knees bouncing repeatedly. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I… I fucked up.”

“Yeah? What’s new about that?”

“No, I mean, I really fucked up,” he groaned, his head falling to his hands. Rintaro immediately felt bad about him, Walking forwards, he crossed his arm against his chest, encouraging his brother to continue. “Listen, the party was going great, and Yuki just looked even better in person. And she was fucking funny and so perfect, man.  I couldn’t help myself. But she was flirting with ‘Samu more and I got jealous so–”

“What did you do?”

Atsumu’s Adam’s apple bounced as he swallowed. He couldn’t look Rintaro in the eye, and the latter was growing more nervous by the second. “I may have made her drink more than she can handle… and pretended to be Osamu. So she’d sleep with me.”

“You are screwed.”

“I know, I know, but she’s going to wake up soon, and I don’t know what to do. I left the room, and–”

“Okay, calm down. Where’s ‘Samu?”

“Downstairs, eating breakfast.”

“You stay right here.”

Iris chose the wrong time to wake up. She must’ve heard Atsumu’s frantic ramblings and sat up from the bed, clutching the blanket to her naked chest. Upon seeing an equally nude Atsumu, she screeched, throwing the nearest pillow at him. “‘Tsumu, get out!” Atsumu fought back by throwing a smaller pillow her way. They began bickering like small children, and it was too early for any of this. He could feel a pounding at the back of his head already.

Tired. He was just tired.

“Iris, please, just – just stay here, the both of you, okay? I’ll be back.”

At least Rintaro had Atsumu’s mess to thank. He finally had a good enough excuse to not spend another moment in that suffocating room with her – or any of them. He’d wanted to leave hours before, but Iris wouldn’t have taken it well if she woke up without him. For now, though, Rintaro had to take on the role of a responsible older brother; something he’d never done before. Taking quick strides, he swung the door open when Atsumu called out for him.

“Wait. Rin!” Rintaro paused, raising a brow at his brother, whose face had been drained of color. “I’m sorry… I just… I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll fix this.”

Rintaro himself wasn’t convinced by his words. Sure, it wasn’t unheard of before that the Princes got their sexual needs satisfied without having been married. Save for a few like Wakatoshi, Keiji, Kita, and Tobio who all wanted to wait for marriage, he was a hundred percent certain his brothers had been with women before. This normally wasn’t a cause for concern. But Hiroda Yuki wasn’t just anyone. She was a model currently rising to fame, and not only was she inebriated during the act, but she’d been led to believe the man she took to bed with someone else. If she were to found out the truth, and decided to turn to the media to ruin his brothers, it’d be another issue for the throne. It didn’t affect Rintaro directly, but times were changing – people were growing restless the longer the crown sat without its King.

It was high time they chose a King, but a very few number of Princes hardly seemed eligible.

As much as he hated to admit it, he knew Ushijima was the best choice to be King. He was fair, disciplined, and followed the rules to a tee. He also had a happy, stable marriage with a respectable noble woman, and they already have a healthy son. There weren’t any arguments that Rintaro paled in comparison to him.

But that didn’t mean he would give up so easily.

He wanted the throne. He wanted everything.

Shaking those thoughts out of his head, he headed for the lobby in search of the darker haired twin. He’d think about the Crown another time. Ducking his head to hide his face, he nodded at any passing staff and hid behind corners. It was only a matter of time before Yuki woke up. That presented another problem – should they hide the truth from her and keep Atsumu safe, or tell her what had really happened and risk having Atsumu be kicked out of the Palace?

Fuck. Rintaro didn’t know what to do, but maybe Osamu would.

His brother sat at the hotel’s dining area, happily digging into his meal without a care in the world. Oh, how lucky he was to be so ignorant. Out of the twins, Osamu was the more mild-mannered one and got into less trouble, but it didn’t change the fact Osamu was often the instigator, and Atsumu the willing victim who played into his hands. The situation felt more complicated now because Rintaro was unsure. Had Osamu planned this all along? Had he known that Atsumu wanted to sleep with Yuki and left them to themselves just when the both were drunk out of their asses?

Too many questions, and he struggled to form a coherent thought. But if he were Kita, he’d have this resolved within a second.

If he were Kita, but he wasn’t. He was just plain Rintaro, who wasn’t particularly great at anything, yet had unfortunately been branded with an extravagant title he never deserved.

Pulling out a seat before him, he narrowed his eyes at his brother. It was still early in the morning, so they had enough privacy with only very few people having breakfast. No one paid them any attention as Rintaro leaned forward, his voice low and hushed.

“Where were you last night?”

“Good morning to you, too, dear brother,” quipped Osamu through a mouthful of waffles, “Lovely set of breakfast they serve here. You should try some.”

“‘Samu, I’m serious. Did you stay at the party last night?”

Osamu, the little ass, took his sweet time chewing and swallowing before he spoke. “No, I went home after ‘Tsumu went out with the model. I just came back to pick him up. I figured he’d be too drunk to drive home.”

Rintaro wanted to ask for more details. There had to be more to the story. The twins were both cunning when they wanted to be, although he doubted Osamu would do anything to intentionally harm his twin. It seemed possible, but he couldn’t be too careful. None of them could afford any defamation lest the people decided for themselves how uncontrollable and unruly the Princes are. Their father had already broken the people’s trust by having multiple sons with different women. They treaded on eggshells, even more so when Rintaro opened his mouth to speak, and was cut off by the crowd whispering around them.

He and Osamu froze. They could barely make out the words from their mumbling at this distance, but they were no fools. They could feel the eyes of everyone in the room on them. With their phones pulled out, they whispered amongst themselves and sent looks of disbelief towards the Princes. Rintaro’s heart raced as he made eye contact with his brother.

They both pulled out their phones and checked the latest news.

An article published just a few hours ago trended worldwide at number one. A photograph of Rin and Iris making love could be seen through a window, with the headline implying that they were secretly lovers all along. His heart dropped. He scrolled down to the comments, his fist turning white at the knuckles as he read them.

That’s disgusting! Wasn’t Prince Rintaro recently married? It seems like being a cheater runs in the blood, after all. He’s just like his daddy To think they did this while their spouses were away for official duty… unbelievable. Disappointed, but not surprised. Princess Iris always seemed like a skank. Never liked her. She came to give aid when there was a storm in our village once, and she kept complaining she was tired. Now she’s going around sleeping with other people’s husbands *laughing sticker* lol she sounds like a bitch Is this real?????????? This has to be fake. The Crown Prince loves his wife! Delete this post now! You’re in trouble once the Palace sees this!

Rintaro pocketed his phone. “We need to leave.”

He dragged Osamu by the arm, ignoring his brother’s complaints that he hadn’t eaten his berries yet. One glare shut him up. They had bigger things to worry about than some stupid fucking berries.

“Call Shinsuke. We need help.”

All four of them hid in Rintaro’s room until Kita arrived. It hadn’t been long, maybe less than an hour, but the wait was nerve-wracking. Thankfully, he’d brought a security team with them. The Princes were escorted out through the back doors and into their cars, although it was too late. Reporters and journalists were already swarming outside the hotel. Kita had stayed back to tell the hotel staff they were not allowed to speak of what they saw or heard during last night’s party under no circumstances. The Princes’ safety were their utmost priority. Everything would be dealt with accordingly. Just as they pulled out of the hotel’s parking, Atsumu informed Kita about Yuki, and the situation he left her in.

Shinsuke’s lips thinned. Already, he looked bone tired. Waving a hand, he dismissed his brothers and promised he’d take care of her once she woke up. For now, they had to stay low and keep out of the public’s eye until the situation died down.

“You all best behave when you get back,” Shinsuke warned, “Her Majesty is furious.”

Of that, he had no doubt. Her Majesty had been eerily quiet since everyone’s return from the honeymoon. But Suna knew his mother better than anyone; she wasn’t letting things pass by, she was only watching from the sidelines, waiting to see who would drop the ball first. And to no one’s surprise, it would be Rintaro.

Her Majesty was right. He couldn’t keep this secret affair with Iris forever.

One way or another, the truth would be revealed, and the truth itself would be his damnation.

None of them uttered a word as they sat next to each other in the car. Atsumu’s still bouncing his leg, causing the seat to shake, but Osamu could care less. He simply gazed out the window. Iris, on the other hand, hadn’t stopped crying, her shoulders shaking silently. Mascara ran down her face in streaks, her lipstick smudged and her torn dress doing very little to hide the love marks on her skin. Gods. Rintaro’s headache worsened. If they got out of the car and the paparazzi took even one photo of Iris in her post-sex state, they were done for.

Rintaro could kiss his precious Crown goodbye.

Walking back to the Palace was akin to walking to your own death.

The lobby was torn upside down. Calling it a mess would be an understatement. The Queen stood in the middle of the furniture she’d flipped and thrown, shards of broken glass all around them as she heaved. The pure image of rage – and he had been the cause. “Fools! Idiotic fools, all of you!” she screamed, stomping through the glass as she reached up to fist Iris’ hair.

“Ow, Your Majesty–”

Her Majesty scrunched her nose at the scent of smoke and alcohol coming off from her, further fuelling her anger. “And you! By the Gods, I knew marrying you into this family was a grave mistake, but you just keep making me regret I ever laid eyes on you, don’t you? You lowly, good-for-nothing whore.”

“Mother!”

“You do not get to speak!” she turned to him and harshly let go of Iris, causing her to stumble and fall onto the broken glass. Panicked, Rintaro reached out for her, but the Queen had caught his arm, reared hers back and landed a slap on his cheek. Rintaro was stunned – she’d been harsh and cruel, but she never laid a hand on him. “Do you have any idea what you did? The throne is all in shambles because of you! The Cabinet hasn’t stopped bugging me ever since that article came out, and I have all our lines busy with people demanding for answers! And you dare raise your voice at me? I told you, multiple times, that you need to stop with your trysts. How will you be King now that you’ve lost the people’s trust?”

“He will not become King,” announced a deep voice they knew all too-well. Like a demon that only showed up in your worst nightmares, Ushijima strutted inside the room, an air of authority and finality surrounding him. “I should be the King. Help me have the throne, and I will resolve all of this,” he studied them all – Atsumu with his guilt, Osamu who was too scared of the Queen to move a single muscle, Iris clutching her bloodied arm, and Suna with disappointment written all over his features. “Clearly, he is not fit to lead this country. He is still but a foolish, young man.”

Foolish.

Stupid.

Reckless.

He’s just like his father.

He’d be a failure as King – just. Like. His. Father.

So that was who he was then. A failure. He’d become the one thing he swore not to be. How would you look at him now? You always gazed upon him with stars in your eyes, like he was the best thing to ever happen in your life. No one had ever looked at him that way before – not his mother, not even Iris. In Iris’ eyes, he was simply… a boy. A boy with no knowledge and experience in this world, a boy who she felt she had to teach because he knew so little. Only you looked at him with adoration, and even that had been taken away. Or, no, he ruined it. Just as he was the reason you used to smile, he’d also become your greatest pain. And maybe, once you’d returned him and seen how the entire country and his whole family had hated him, you would see him for who he is too – nothing but a failure.

The good for nothing Prince.

He should have known. The Palace was no place for the likes of him. He should have just stopped trying so hard to be King. He should have never used Iris as an excuse to quell his insecurity. But was it truly a crime to want to feel like he was needed?

He didn’t know anymore. The only thing he knows now was that he needed to leave, and without another word, stepped out of the room.

“Rintaro! Where are you going?!”

He ignored his mother calling for him. Perhaps he should stop calling her that, too. She’d barely been a mother. She was more of a Queen, bending and breaking her back to His Majesty’s will. She loved the crown and the power it gave her more than anything, that she willingly sacrificed her dignity to keep her position. For many nights, Rintaro watched his mother leave their quarters crying, battered and bruised. It was confusing for a young boy like him. Weren’t mommies and daddies supposed to love one another? But the Queen would scold him for being awake past midnight, and rush him back to bed while she limped on her way. She never loved the King, and because he was his son, she never loved him, too.

Rintaro was nothing but another tool for Her Majesty to stay in power.

She could never become King and hold the Kingdom for herself, but he could. Wasn’t that why she kept him locked away for years and groomed him to take in his Father’s steps?

I kind of did, he thought sarcastically, I’m a horrible husband just like him.

When you arrived in Inarizaki, the country was in chaos. People flocked you from left and right when you and Kiyoomi left the plane, causing the older Prince to break his silence and scold the nosy reporters. Flabbergasted at his sudden outburst that seemed out of character; they lowered their cameras and gave you enough breathing space. The peace, however, did not last long. Her Majesty was furious beyond what one can imagine – akin to a dragon breathing fire down to anyone who dared come near her tower. The twins, who apparently started this fire and caused Rintaro to be the fuel, had been shut away in their rooms in fear of angering her. Iris, from what little you heard about her, was being ruthlessly flamed by the media. They’d called her all sorts of unkind things you would’ve never dared say out loud.

But for some reason, seeing their downfall did not give you any satisfaction.

Because at the end of the day, they were the people you and Kiyoomi returned to. You may walk down the same hallways in the Palace, but he would always be in Belleview Manor to look for her. And you were well on your way to search for the Crown Prince who walked out on his mother.

The guards took some time to find his location, but once they did, they did not hesitate in informing you. Everyone believed you were the only person he’d want to speak to right now. So you drove up to the mountains, where it was barren and cold, and you had to use a truck to survive the rocky terrain. Seriously, out of all the places he could be, he chose to wallow in misery at the top of the world – in the pouring rain, no less.

Boots muddied from the storm, you hopped out of your truck and opened an umbrella, clutching your coat tighter as you watched your husband from afar.

This mountain served as a border between Inarizaki and Itachiyama. From where you stood, you could see the two countries – Itachiyama with its rich nature, and Inarizaki with its towering Castles and bustling cities. Once a united nation, now split into two – all because of love. A tragic story, yet a realistic one. It only goes to show how powerful, and dangerous, love could be. You knew better than anyone that whatever made you happiest could also be your greatest demise.

And there was the said demise – crouching as he picked up pebbles and threw it off the mountain wall. He wore the same shirt as from the photograph; wrinkled and stained with lipstick. Even from this distance, you could smell her on him, and you wanted to laugh. Perhaps Kiyoomi was right – maybe they never loved each other. Maybe they were just lonely.

Extending the umbrella until your husband was shielded from the rain, you softened. Rintaro visibly froze when the rain stopped pelting against him. His wet hair stuck to his face, his shirt plastered on his skin.

A myriad of emotions flickered through his devastatingly handsome face: relief, worry, surprise.

You broke the silence first and crouched down next to him. When Rintaro stiffened, you smiled, showing him you were not here to be his enemy. “My Prince. You are a difficult man to find.”

“Princess,” he breathed out, and you realized the poor Prince was shivering. His face broke into that of despair upon seeing you. “I didn’t know you would be home so early.”

“I had some matters to attend to.”

“You saw the article,” he guessed, and you nodded. Rintaro then stood to his full height, and you followed, causing his head to bump into the umbrella since he was taller. For a moment, he crouched to fit in under the small space. But it was uncomfortable, and soon, he was gently taking the umbrella and holding it for the both of you – more for you, though, since rain still trailed down his back. “I’m sorry.”

“It was bound to happen,” shrugging, you gestured for him to take a walk with you. It was far from being the most scenic place to have a peaceful walk in, but it would do.

You two were silent for a moment. Rintaro seemed to have a thousand thoughts running through his head when you finally spoke.

“How are you?”

“Tired. And you?”

“I’ve had better days.”

Rintaro stole a cautious glance. “Are you mad at me?”

You chuckled, and the sound of it stupefied him. His eyes widened as if afraid, but truly, there was no need to be. You weren’t in the mood to argue with him. “Not really. I feel like I was mad at you a long time ago, and now I’m just… Numb to it all, I suppose,” you said, absentmindedly spinning the wedding ring you both wore. Such a simple jewelry, yet it symbolized so much more. When you spoke again, the rain had calmed down a little bit, but the cold had already seeped into both of your bones. “Marriage is difficult. You have to stay true to your vows, even when the times are challenging. In sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, for better or for worse. ‘Till death do us part,” you glanced up at him, taking in those handsome features you fell in love with – his hazel eyes, his soft lips you loved to kiss, and his face you often cradled in your palms. Even right now, you wanted to kiss him, if only to give comfort, but you had to know first –

“Do you intend on keeping your marriage vows, Your Highness?”

He averted his gaze. “I doubt our marriage is valid anymore. The country thinks I am a horrible husband to you.”

“It’s not like I’ve been the best wife myself,” you admitted, your chest aching as you remembered the Second Prince – his gentle smiles directed only at you, the castle ruins, his large palms holding you tenderly, and the crestfallen look on his face when you told him you had to look for your husband. Such a great man, but the timing couldn’t be worse. And Gods, you couldn’t help it. You cried. You mourned the love you could have had.

You grieved for the life you could have had, the person you could’ve become.

If it had been Kiyoomi, it would be so much easier. He would love you in the way you wanted. He would you close to his arms all night long because he wouldn’t want to let go. He would chase away those stupid chickens for you. He would hide you away from the rest of the world and given you a life of solitude and peace – it would’ve been simple, and it would’ve been perfect.

But Kiyoomi was already married, and so were you.

And you felt horrible because he was great, but then you’d become a horrible wife. You would be exactly like Rintaro if you had given into your desire and kissed him. Kiyoomi wasn’t yours. But was Rintaro? Your heart was everywhere and nowhere all at once.

Why couldn’t it all just work out?

Why couldn’t it be him?

Wiping your tears with the back of your hand, you forced the thoughts of the curly-haired prince out of your head. “I wish I hated you, Rintaro. I wish… I wish I never met you. I wish you never danced with me at your brother’s ball. I wish you never courted me. I wish you never came into my life and changed everything. It would have been better to never have been loved, than to have loved and been betrayed.”

Rintaro stepped forward, his arm extending to wipe your tears for you but even he could tell you were refused. So he kept his distance, clutching the umbrella tighter as his voice broke. “I’m sorry. I really am. It just… I didn’t want for it happen. You were all I thought about. When you were gone and you didn’t call or texted once, I thought I was losing you. I wanted you back.”

You shook your head. “You cannot have everything you want. You know that.”

His face dropped.

“Are you going to make me choose, too?”

“No. I already know who you would choose,” and you did, yet your heart still ached for him, for your husband, the one thing you couldn’t have. Only you didn’t feel like laughing, not when Rintaro looked at you with just as much confliction. “Is it foolish of me that I still love you even after everything you’ve done?”

His lips curled the slightest bit. “A little, but I am the last man to judge you if you were foolish, which you aren’t.”

You laughed sardonically. “I love you, do you know that?”

“I know,” he mumbled.

Who knew two words alone could puncture one’s heart so much?

Looking away, you both remained silent until Rintaro dropped the question. “What will happen to us now? Divorce is unlikely, but I might be stripped off my titles. I don’t know. But I have a feeling I certainly won’t become King anymore.”

“Do you want to be?”

Rintaro thought about it. “I do. It’s all I’ve ever known to pursue.”

“Then stand tall, my Prince. A future King doesn’t bow down to anyone, not even his Queen, and most especially not when the world is against him. We can fix this. I can fix this. I can restore your glory, but I need you to place your full trust on me.”

The plan you formed in your head would be considered insane. Her Majesty would certainly be furious, but if this was the only way to leave Rintaro, you would do it. You would protect him. You would give him back his power, and once he’s had it all, you’ll remove yourself from his life. He cannot have everything that he wants – but if you could not have love, then you want power. Even for just a brief moment, you were determined.

You were going to ruin her.

The drive back to the Palace was silent. He’d agreed to whatever plan you had, regardless of what the outcome might be. He didn’t even know what you truly had in mind. He just trusted you wholeheartedly like you asked, and told you to do as you pleased. Right now, the Crown Prince was weak. His mind was far too disturbed to process anything correctly. You would take advantage of it, simply because his compliance would be the only thing to ensure your success.

He just needed to remain silent.

Claiming he was exhausted, Rintaro went ahead first. It’d be another night where you’d sleep separately, and you would both definitely be awake the whole time. Just as you rounded the corner, you saw a hunched figure resting against the wall. He looked like he’d been waiting for you for a while. Upon hearing your footsteps, Kiyoomi raised his head – his dark eyes vulnerable, almost if hoping you would be the same as you were yesterday.

You wanted to. Truly, you did.

But the person he’d been with in Itachiyama was someone else entirely. She was someone happier, someone who didn’t have a broken marriage to worry about. She was someone who could have loved him.

Now, you were the same Princess he’d always known – the one who could never choose him.

Kiyoomi nodded to himself. He must have realized everything by now. What happened in Itachiyama stayed in Itachiyama. Pushing his weight off the wall, he strode to you with a blank expression. His eyes had gone cold again.

“We will never speak again, will we?”

“I’m sorry,” you breathed out, “He needs me right now.”

“I know,” Kiyoomi had never sounded so defeated broke, and it broke your heart. It made you want to run into his arms, to tell him it could’ve been him if you met him first. But that would sound wrong, wouldn’t it? He had been first. He’d been the last dance; the destined lover. The fated one. But man’s willpower could be so strong it battled even destiny itself, and you were both nothing but a fragment of the could’ve been’s.

“Good luck, Princess, in all your endeavors,” and then, just when you thought he would kiss you as he leaned forward, you closed your eyes. Waited with bated breath.

But he never did.

Kiyoomi only kissed your cheek, and then his scent and his warmth disappeared sooner than you would like. When he walked away, you saw all the what if’s you had to let go of.

The dream life with Kiyoomi vanished into thin air.

Wiping the tears from your cheeks, you forced yourself to turn and never look back. Kiyoomi was surely doing the same. He’d come to peace with it eventually, the love he could’ve had, the marriage he should’ve had. Itachiyama was nothing but a fantasy anyway. He wasn’t a real farmer just as you weren’t someone he could call his. It was a story doomed from the beginning.

Numbness spread all throughout your body. You’d been too drained to cry further, too exhausted to regret what you’d just done. The voice in your mind, the one who craved Kiyoomi like man needed air, had been eerily silent, too. It was if she, too, knew there was no point chasing after something that didn’t want to be chased in the first place.

All you could do was close your eyes and push the image of Kiyoomi’s smile out of your head.

He wasn’t yours. He could never be yours.

After what seemed like hours, you finally arrived at your shared quarters. The same room you left your husband in, and quite possibly the same room he slept with his mistress while you were gone.

You sighed. Opening the door, you were met by the sight of Rintaro pouring himself a drink. He’d already changed clothes – ones free of Iris’ lipstick and perfume. He looked fresh, much more composed than when he was a mess hours ago, yet he seemed… distant. Usually, he’d already perk up at you entering the room. But his face was devoid of any emotion as he poured wine into a second glass, deftly picking it up before downing it in one go. Your gaze fixated on the bobbing of his throat. How Iris’ lips kissed the column of his neck, how she’d whispered praises into his skin, how Rintaro allowed it all.

He slammed his empty glass down on the table. Leaning forward, he rested his arms on the sides of it, his voice unnaturally low as he spoke. “You know, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

“About what?”

“Why you weren’t mad after reading the article,” his knuckles turned white from when he tightened his grip. He took slow exhales as if to calm himself, his grip loosening before he snatched another glass.

Back straightened, Rintaro towered over you as he took slow, careful, deliberate steps – akin to a predator sneaking up on its prey. Your heart drummed in your chest, loud enough it could’ve echoed in the spacious chamber, but you stood your ground. You wouldn’t let him have the satisfaction of seeing his effect on you. Then, he stood in front of you – close enough you saw the steady rise and fall of his chest, the tipping of his head to the side as he narrowed his gaze at you. Inquisitively, suspiciously, like peeling away the layers of your skin to reveal your dirtiest secrets.

“Strange, don’t you think? Any sane wife who found out their husband was cheating on them would’ve screamed and kicked already. You didn’t do any of that.”

“I told you already. I’m too tired for any of that.”

“It could be that,” he raised his glass to your face, a portentous smirk dancing on his lips. “Or you could also be directing your affections to someone else.”

“What are you trying to say?”

He rolled his eyes, but otherwise kept his gaze on you as he sipped his drink and taking his sweet sweet time. “I wouldn’t have slept with her if you didn’t leave. You know I despise Kiyoomi, yet you still went. You completely disregarded my feelings when I said I didn’t want you to go,” he grounded his teeth, jaw clenching from the effort of holding himself back. “Is it him, then? Are you choosing him over me?”

He sounded so serious in his accusations you almost believed it yourself. “Don’t be absurd, Rintaro.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I strike a chord?” he said in a sing-song manner, the smile dropping from his face when you kept your lips shut. “So the rumors were right. You went with him to get back at me.”

Your jaw dropped. Yes, you enjoyed the time with Kiyoomi. Yes, you wished you never left, and you were already regretting each minute you spent longer in this damned space with him. Yes, you thought about Kiyoomi in ways you shouldn’t have – and god forbid you nearly asked him to kiss you, but not once did you think about using his brother as a ploy.

You weren’t like him.

“That’s not true, and you know it.”

Rintaro fumed. He flung his empty glass across the room, the shattering sound muted by his yells. “Prove it to me, then!”

“Are you even hearing yourself? I’m not the one who cheated! Don’t you dare turn this around and make it seem like it was my fault.”

“But it was! If you didn’t go around fucking my brother behind my back, I would’ve stayed loyal to you! I would’ve waited until you returned! What, you thought I wouldn’t know what you were doing there with him? Doing fertility dances, sharing dinners with his mother like you’re his wife, lighting stupid fucking lanterns–” swinging your arm back, your palm connected with his cheek, a resounding slap rendering the Prince speechless. He stepped back, clutching his reddened cheeks as he stared at you in disbelief.

“That is enough. Utter one more word, and I will never speak to you again.”

“You aren’t even denying it,” he spat out, “Have you fallen for him?”

You were done. So done. You wouldn’t have any of this anymore. Sidestepping him, you walked past and away from your husband, heading for your bedroom where you planned on slamming the door in his face. You’d cry for hours there if you needed to – anything to have him leave you alone. But your husband was just as stubborn as he was determined, catching up to you with ease before catching your wrist. He spun you to face him, and you froze – he reeked of alcohol, his lips and cheeks painfully red, but his eyes.

You couldn’t tell if he wanted to kill you or keep you.

“Answer me!”

You fought against his grasp. He was stronger than you by all means; you struggled and kicked and pounded your fists on his chest, but Rintaro didn’t budge. He let you hit him however you pleased, demanding repeatedly to tell him he was wrong – how you wouldn’t choose his brother over him, how it’d be him – forever and always.

“I hate you!” you bellowed at his face, falling limp in his arms from all your fighting. “I wish I never married you – it should’ve been him! I should’ve married your brother!”

“That’s a lie!”

“Oh, don’t look so hurt now, Prince. You don’t even feel a sliver of what I do. Need I remind you that you constantly choose her over me, your wife? Why should I be loyal to you when you’re not even mine?”

“I am yours.”

“You’re hers, too,” you reminded him, your eyes glinting with mischief as you recalled Kiyoomi’s words. Just then, cruel laughter bubbled from your lips. Two could play this game, and you would be the winner. He wanted to hurt you? Fine. You could hurt him even more. “You know what’s laughable, Rin? The woman you’re fighting tooth and nail for doesn’t even want you.”

“Shut up!”

You laughed harder, practically shaking in his arms as you did. Taunting him, you nudged your nose with his, forcing him to look at you and feed on your wrath. “I’m right, aren’t I? She doesn’t like you. She’s merely using you for fame and pleasure because her husband isn’t attracted to her–” the breath was slammed out your throat. In mere seconds, Rintaro had shoved you against the wall, his lips crashing down on yours with such ferocity it burned you. Your eyes stung from your tears, the back of your skull beginning to throb. But Rintaro wasn’t done with you yet.

Pinning your wrists above your head, you gasped, and he took the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth. He tasted like scotch and smelled faintly of her perfume. It made your stomach churn, and soon, you were groaning into his mouth, desperately trying to win in this battle of dominance. He was angry as you were frustrated, your lips molding against each other’s like swords clashing in a battle. He struck first, his kisses passionately bitter, but his taste addictingly sweet. You fought back against his hold, your breasts sliding down across his chest and you moaned – he groaned – tugging your bottom lip between his teeth until you couldn’t tell who the enemy was anymore. You shouldn’t kiss him, you shouldn’t enjoy it, but his lips were as familiar as a sunny day and you were a woman in need of light in your life.

He’s repulsive, your mind argued.

But he’s mine, your heart decided. He was, and always will be, yours. He could have Iris for as long as he wanted, but it was you who’d taken his name. It was your ring on his finger, your face next to him in the royal portraits. You weren’t the shameful mistress – you were the rightful wife. You could have him as you pleased, ruin him to your delight. Break him into thousands of pieces only to pick him up again because he was yours, yours, yours.

Threading your fingers to his hair, you dragged him closer to you. Breathed him in, pawed at his shirt in a demand for him to take it off. He was more than willing to oblige, the two of you making quick work of his buttons in between messy, breathy kisses. Shirt discarded, he grabbed your ass and your legs wrapped around his waist on instinct – the next sequence of events like a movie you’d seen before.

Your clothes on the carpeted floor.

Rintaro on top of you, your fingers intertwined beside your head. His lips on your neck, bruises on your skin and the imprint of his hands on your hips. Your mewls right on his ear. The quivering of your thighs, the stain on the sheets – the day turning into night, from dusk until dawn. He thrusts deep, enough to have you inhaling sharply through your nose. And there it was – the unmistakable scent of a vanilla perfume you’ve never owned. It’s everywhere in the room now that your eyes opened, the hazy cloud of lust ebbing away. Iris’ perfume on your vanity area, a discarded pair of white lacy thongs that wasn’t yours peeking from under the closet, and her scent – her stupidly sweet, innocent scent – blanketing the silk of your sheets.

Slowly, your fingers detached from Suna as you turned to the sides, inhaling the sheets once more because it couldn’t be, right? Maybe you had it wrong. Rintaro wouldn’t do that, he couldn’t be so cruel. You never even shared this bed with him ever since you got married. You’ve never had him hold you close as you fall asleep, never had your head resting on his chest while you both waited for the next day. He was a cruel man, yes, but he wouldn’t dare do this to you. Not while you were gone, he wouldn’t, he wouldn’t, he wouldn’t.

Yet there it was, the scent of a floral shampoo you couldn’t recognize on your pillows, and the faint smatters of vanilla and cinnamon lingered behind.

And when the damage is done, and your heart is more confused now than ever – Rintaro momentarily slumps before you, held up only by his arms, he realizes too late the tears stained on your cheeks.

“You brought her here.”

It wasn’t a question, not even an accusation. You spoke nothing but the truth, and Rintaro’s crestfallen face said it all. He’d brought her here, made love with her on your bed. Somehow, finding out that he’d fucked her in the one place you found solace in the Palace hurt more than knowing he fucked her everywhere else.

It was as if he’d stained you. Spat right at your face. Desecrated the one place you wished to hold him in, and rubbed it in your face that he couldn’t make love to you in your bed. But he could with her, because it was always going to be her, wasn’t it?

No matter how hard you tried, it was never going to be you.

Silence dawned on the room. There’s nothing but the rapid beating of your hearts, and the soft sniffles you muffle behind your first. He sees two things on your face that night: one of beauty, and one of regret. He dared himself to be brave, to wipe your tears with the pad of his thumb. The motion was oddly comforting, and for a moment – just a quick moment – you allowed yourself to be vulnerable. Leaning into the warmth of his palm, more tears dampened his skin. You were torn between asking him to stay, to hold you until it hurt less, and asking him to leave and give you a moment for yourself.

But Rintaro had already decided.

With a final kiss to your forehead, your husband crawled out of the bed. He glanced at you one last time before slipping his ring off, setting it on your bedside table, before quietly – and resolutely – leaving you behind.

[joe-leviari]

Simon Ghost Riley is annoyed.

" So you ended up working together, you ended up helping one another, you ended up not liking each other. " || Ghost listens in to you having sex ||

for adults only; NSFW; sexual themes; stalker!Ghost; smut; other COD characters briefly mentioned; backstory for main character; afab!reader x konig; no use of y/n; English is not my first language, feel free to privately message me to correct any mistakes.

Much to Ghost’s annoyance, they need you. 

You being the highly-trained-deadly-skilled-gun-for-hire of a now nearly collapsed criminal enterprise, and the only one left alive with the intel that they need. 

But that’s alright, because, as it turns out, you need them. 

Them being the task force 141, the very same that has been sistematically dismantling the above mentioned criminal empire and hunting down the above mentioned highly-trained-deadly-skilled-gun-for-hire. Little-fucking-nuisance, according to Simon. 

So you ended up working together, you ended up helping one another, you ended up not liking each other. 

Much to Ghost’s annoyance, judging by the way Gaz has been telling you stories from his childhood, the way Price has been calling you silly nicknames through the crackling comms, and the way Soap has taken the habit to fully lean into you every time you show him something stupid on your phone, the only one who doesn’t really like you is Ghost himself. 

Not liking you is fine; that’s something he can deal with for the simple fact that he does not really have to deal with it. Disliking you is a mere subjective perception that he acknowledges in passing, almost distractingly, when he lays his eyes on you. The real problem is that he does not fucking trust you. Now that’s something he has to deal with; that’s HIS duty, that’s HIS team. 

Sure, you are constantly monitored, they are not stupid: you have lived most of your life like a criminal, surrounded by criminals. You have the resources, the knowledge, and fairly good reasons to fuck them over. That’s why you are never left alone and never trusted to carry any weapons unless strictly necessary. Your location is always traced, your heartbeat is polygraph-tested every time you have to be questioned.  The thing is, you were very well made aware of all this when you signed on the dotted line the day that Laswell came to see you in the prison’s infirmary. 

A few days later, there you were, with a bruised face and an even more bruised ego, getting yourself nice and comfy in the room down the hall. 

So it was for the sake of HIS team that Simon had to break into the room down the hall to carefully bug it. With a bit of patience, he will find something compromising that will force Laswell - who seemed to take a shine on you for whatever bloody reason - to send you back to prison. Or anywhere else, really, as long as you were out of sight. And with that, out of mind. 

Much to Ghost's annoyance, you moan differently than he expected. Simon assumed, definitely assumed, and NEVER fantasized that you would moan like a fucking pornstar. 

No, this… This is something entirely different. And now that it thinks about it, it is more like you. You have a wicked sweetness about you, the kind that makes men want to either break you or protect you. 

You have the cheekiness that gets you in trouble—the same one that gets you out of it. Ghost adjusts the ear buds in his ears and draws his eyebrows together. 

The man on you (behind you? Under you? Most definitely inside you) is babbling, grunting, and moaning, visceral and guttural. And you... You sound breathy and airy and wet and light. In a delicate voice, you are giving him directions, but you have to repeat yourself a few times before he snaps out of his daze and complies. And when he finally does, oh, you are all praise. 

How the fuck did he menage to get into your pants? And why, on God’s green earth, would you let him?

Ghost has witnessed you flirt before: sometimes you were just doing your job, other times you were having fun dancing with recruits in bars, flashing them a little smile with a pretty blush on your face. You were quick to throw them a bait and even quicker to retrieve it. “Don’t push your luck, soldier” you would say with an easy grin. Cheeky little thing. 

Simon would scoff at your antics and at the men and women who would fall for your little act. That’s why he is so surprised now, because with you, everything seems to be either an act or a transaction. I’ll give you what you need if you offer me something better first.

That’s what he thought you were doing with Konig when he caught you complimenting his skills and commenting on his strength. Just being smart, just trying to have one more ally. 

But the way you were panting, mewling, and pleading told him a different story. You could not be trusted. And now HIS team is in danger because you couldn’t keep your legs shut. Are your legs actually wide open? Are they on his shoulders? No, Ghost is not thinking about your legs. Instead, he is thinking that he wouldn’t need you to give him pointers on how to adjust the rhythm or how to angle himself to hit your sweet spot. With one hand on your mouth, he’d know exactly what to do to you. You wouldn’t need to say please and thank you; you wouldn’t need to be so polite. 

Simon is startled when you let out a sudden giggle, immediately followed by a whimper. You are confusing, half crying and half elated, half begging to stop and half begging to continue. It’s intimate—you sound so defenseless, so vulnerable. You are definitely not to be trusted. 

Much to Ghost’s annoyance, a little escapade with a fellow soldier is not enough to get you to fuck off somewhere else—somewhere far, far away from him. If that were to be enough, the base would be empty by now. He just has to be a little more patient and wait until he hears you say something compromising to the mercenary (or any other bastard that you’ll let into your bed, for that matter, a slut like you). Eventually you'll let something slip that will put the safety of the team at risk and thwart your credibility in the process.

Ghost is just going to have to endure more of this bullshit, and THAT is what annoys him the most. Not the fact that while listening to you, he is reminded of that one time when you dislocated your shoulder. He lets his focus drift to your moaning, desperately trying to conjure the memory of the way you turned your big, watery eyes on him, looking like a wounded animal. He can see it now; he can hear it now—the barely audible plea that escaped your lips, “Please, please don’t hurt me,"  as he was grabbing your arm and trying to fix you. It is only a pang in the pit of his stomach that snaps him out of it; he should not find the idea of you getting hurt so damn erotic. 

You little fucking nuisance.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

hi sex batman <3!!! i know people have a knack for thinking their problems are strictly unique or worse on the broad scale of people who have the same problems, and im definitely falling into that pattern, but i just wanted to know what you think about this. gotta ask the professional.

so basically, i am a lesbian with a vag. and also a virgin. this, in my experience, makes it sort of hard to ‘confirm’ im a lesbian to myself (weird and insecure of me, i know.) don’t get me wrong, it is completely ok to be a lesbian and not wanting to have sex, but the thing is, i do actually wanna have sex (i literally jork to thoughts of women). my problem gets a bit more complicated to me tho, as I’ve also had thoughts (and even like a singular dream) of being in romantic and sexual relationships with men, even though I have no actual interest in doing that (circling back to that dream, it was a sexual one with a dude.) so basically before it sounds like im asking you to magically conjure up my sexuality even more, (sorry, sex batman!) is it like entirely unheard of to be aroused at the concept of being plowed by a guy even though you strictly thought of yourself as lesbian, especially when you have no interest in acting on those fantasies? and even when you haven’t been like that sexually with a guy, girl, or anyone else? just want a little perspective from someone else who isn’t me or heterosexual :)

hi anon,

well, evidently it's not unheard of to be a lesbian who has sexually fantasies about men, because you're doing that. so it's been heard of!

listen. if you know that I believe people have a bad tendency to assume their problems are uniquely terrible, then I hope you also know that I really truly absolutely do not believe anybody's sexual fantasies should be assumed to be a 1:1 representation of shit that they actually want to see or do in real life.

you can fantasize about whatever you want. made up things that happen in your head don't have any bearing on who you are or what you can call yourself. to that last point, nothing has any bearing on what you call yourself except for you and what terminology feels most correct to you.

[charles-leclerc-official]

2024 Monza Grand Prix Race Analysis

Charles brought home his second career victory at Monza with one of the most impressive drives of the season. Let's take a look at exactly how he pulled it off.

Table of Contents Ferrari - Charles - Strategy - Tyre Management - Data Analysis Carlos Mclaren - Team strategy - Oscar - Lap 1 overtake - Lando Other moments and drivers of note Final Thoughts

This analysis is goign to be very Ferrari and Mclaren focused, because they were the main teams of interest. There are a few other mentions, but the competition at the front of the field is where the bulk of this analysis is aimed at.

Ferrari

Ferrari brought a few upgrades to the SF-24 this weekend. The most notable of which was a new floor. The floor was meant to address some of the problems previous upgraded floor specs had introduced to the car in previous rounds. Given the results both drivers saw it is safe to say that Ferrari seem to be back on track with a competitive car. The Ferrari was very close to the Mclaren on speed this weekend. Which is looking promising for a competitive from field in the final races of the season.

Charles qualified P4 and finished P1. Carlos qualified P5 and finished P4.

Charles

It’s one thing to win at Monza once behind the wheel of a red car, but to do it twice? Well that’s called building an unforgettable legacy. 

Charles brought home his second career win at Monza, with one of his best performances this season and indeed another career highlight.

There were quite a few things that went into this win. From an excellent lap one overtake, to masterful tyre management Charles really reminded the entire grid what he's capable of with this drive.

There is a lot of strategy and data to get to, so we are just going to dive in!

Strategy

The strategy of both Ferrari and Mclaren were the deciding factors in this race. There are a lot of little details and key moments so I going to present this in a timeline of events.

First, Monza was hot, while ordinarily this race is a pretty straightforward one-stop, teams were anticipating needing to do a two-pit stop strategy going into Sunday, due to the high tyre degradation observed in the hot temperatures. Both Ferrari and Mclaren seemed to have planned on a two-stop as their base strategy.

Second, with George starting in P3 it was assumed he was not going to hold that position. The Mercedes was not handling the heat well, and he was not going to hold third for long. Ferrari and Mclaren seemed to both have assumed this. And this was a correct assumption.

With that in mind, it's lights out and away we go!

Lap 1

On turn 4 Charles took advantage of an opening Oscar exposed when he passed Lando. Lando didn't close the gap quickly enough and he was more focused on Oscar, so Charles had the opportunity to overtake. So right off the bat he made it from P4 to P2.

George also went off at turn 1 due to a lack of grip and that was where the other place came from.

Lap 15/16

On lap 15 Lando pit, undercutting Charles and gaining a place back up to P2.

On lap 16 Charles pit in response to this undercut. This was to try to save something against Lando who had just undercut him. It’s an automatic reactionary strategy call. Charles wasn’t pleased with this from the team as he felt the tyres had more in them. I think that the call to box here while not strictly necessary it wasn’t bad either as allowing Mclaren the chance to get further ahead on hards was not going to be good, given the rate at which the mediums were degrading.

This pit was really the deciding moment of the race though at the moment it felt like it wasn’t in Ferrari’s favor. Ferrari said they always had considered the possibility of a one-stop, they knew the car and drivers were capable, but with the temps it was a little iffy before they saw how the hards performed on race day. Charles making that early pass really set them up to benefit even more from this strategy.

The option for the one-stop was discussed on radio as early as lap 11. And I think a lot of the waffling over the radio after that first pit about strategy was running interference against Mclaren. Ferrari were trying to make sure they two-stopped while they stayed on a one-stop.

Lap 33

This was the lap where the race changed. This was where Mclaren revealed they were going to stick with a two-stop, and this was where Ferrari decided that Charles should one stop.

Charles was told to box opposite Mclaren. At this point in the race it was unclear if Lando or Oscar were going to box first, both were experiencing graining on the hards.

But then Lando pit. This gave away Mclaren's strategy, and also I think Ferrari were expecting Oscar to pit first. They were trying to trick Mclaren into pitting Oscar first over the radio, but Lando was struggling more and Mclaren are always reluctant to give up the lead of the race even for a bit.

On lap 33 Oscar was informed that Lando pit, and also Oscar reported the graining on his tyres was getting worse very quickly.

Charles was told to build on his delta by speeding up, I think to try to make it look to Mclaren like they were not trying to conserve and they'd also do a two-stop.

I will cover a little more on this specific stint in the data analysis section.

But the important thing to note is that this is the lap where the strategy was decided by both teams, and effectively Mclaren's fate was sealed.

Lap 39

On lap 39 Oscar pit and this was when Mclaren's chances were over. They couldn't stay out longer and had to commit to the two-stop even though it was clear that was going to lose them the race. Their car and drivers were not able to handle the graining.

This was also the lap when Ferrari reaffirmed the strategy choice for the one-stop with Charles.

Checkered Flag

Charles ran the remainder of his hard stint pulling off effectively perfect lap times for 38 laps. He didn't see any drop in performance in the tyres, and held the lead of the race comfortably after Oscar pit on lap 39.

This win came from three factors. 1) Charles' brilliant overtake on turn 1 gaining him several places up the field 2) Good strategy calls from Ferrari to effectively counter Mclaren 3) Genius tyre management from Charles to get the maximum out of the hard tyres in difficult conditions for tyre deg.

Now when it came to the call to make the one-stop strategy there has been some confusion about who made it and when. Some have asserted that Carlos somehow was the one behind the call to make the one-stop, which is not what happened, and also is not how strategy calls are made in the team. 

Here are the radio messages transcribed on the lap they occurred. Note that “Plan B” is the one-stop strategy

*note there are a lot of radios that I did not include as they were not relevant to the strategy call at hand, this is just for simplicity

The thing I think that has been misunderstood about these radios is that Carlos is speaking about plan B for himself. He was going over how to properly cover Lewis in the pits with his engineer, Charles was not mentioned at all. The info that Bryan shared about Carlos with Charles was because if Carlos felt plan B was possible they wanted to ask Charles if he felt the same. So this wasn’t Carlos putting the whole team on plan B, it was him making the best strategy call for himself, which is normal and it was the correct call, but to claim his choice made the decision for Charles is incorrect. 

It’s also important for the team to communicate to a driver if their teammate is going to be on a different strategy, as that was a possibility. It’s just information they need to have.

Note that Charles was already considering a one-stop on lap 11, and there was no mention of that plan to Carlos on his end. So this was a strategy Charles and the team were considering much earlier. With the undercut I think it led them to flip flop some on which strategy would be best, but then on lap 33 they locked it in.

However, listening to the full radios, I think that the final choice for Charles to be on the one stop was when they asked Charles to stay out on lap 33, and then asked about his tyres on lap 35. The message from Bryan to Charles on lap 39 was him informing that his teammate was also on the same strategy. This is also further evidenced by the radios in between being focused on building a good delta, setting the target lap time, which was the lap time needed for the one-stop, and also aiding Charles in managing certain turns for management. All of this happened prior to Charles receiving the message about Carlos on lap 39. 

Also a very important detail comes from Lando’s post race press statements. When asked when he was committed to the two-stop was when he boxed for the second time. Lando boxed on lap 33, the same lap where Charles was told to stay out. I think that seeing Lando box and confirming that Mclaren were on a two-stop that was when Ferrari locked in the one-stop for Charles. He was not told to plan on boxing again opposite Oscar or anything, which they also knew was coming. Lap 33 was the deciding lap of the race. 

I am not trying to discredit Carlos here, but the data/timeline backs that Charles was already on the one-stop strategy before Carlos even said anything. I think the team very quickly switched Charles on the one-stop around lap 33 when they decided not to pit. 

Fred

I want to include a few quotes from Fred on the team strategy as well as they confirm what I parsed over the radio as well as the behavior on track.

"It [the one-stop] was a good strategy. We had it planned from the start. We saw the high degradation at the beginning and were surprised, but we stuck with our choices. A bit risky, but it went well. The drivers managed the tires very well, without over-pushing. We made a good strategy like in Zandvoort, but here we also won."

So Fred is affirming that this was their chosen strategy going into the race. It makes sense at this has been a strength for Ferrari all season and Mclaren has not been able to counter the SF-24 and Charles on tyre management. It was especially optimal as most teams were thinking it had to be a two-stop.

"At one point, though, we thought we would go for two stops. Even if we didn’t experience any degradation in the second stint. However, Charles felt comfortable. When we realized that the worst-case scenario was finishing on the podium, we went for it. We said to ourselves: ‘Alright, let’s stay consistent with the lap times and go for it’. Everything went well. I believe Charles had everything under control; he drove perfectly."

This is reflective of the middle when they might have been considering that plan C option that included another pit, likely informed by the graining they were seeing on the Mclaren's and the Red Bulls. This would have been around lap 30-33.

They checked in with Charles on his lap times and he was just a machine on track not wavering, so there was no reason not to. After that it was mind games with Mclaren trying to get them to mess up their pit timing with Oscar even more.

Carlos

Carlos ran a solid race. I think as a final race at Monza with Ferrari this was a good drive. He kept things clean, also pulled off the one-stop, caused a little interference to help Charles at the front. All around a good drive and a good effort with the team.

I would have liked to see him make the podium of course, but with the Mclaren’s on a two-stop his chances of that were slim. Because with his track position he was going to get passed by them on newer tyres.

Carlos struggled more on the one-stop, as he did hit a wall with his tyres on the final laps of the race. Which really highlights Charles pulling off the consistent performance he did on 4 lap older hards.

In spite of all of this I think this was one of Carlos' strongest performances of the season as well. It was a challenging order to do the one-stop and he help his place with it.

Just adding this to be abundantly clear.

“Carlos came up with Charles strategy!”: No, Charles and the team already switched to the one-stop before Carlos’ radios, and also the car behind is not making strategy calls for the car ahead, that doesn’t happen. Carlos was simply communicating with his own engineer about the strategy that would suit him best in his own race, as he should.

Data Analysis

We have some excellent data to examine from this race. And it really informs what was an wasn't possible for certain teams and drivers.

First I want to do a comparison of Charles and both Mclarens, this is probably the most important data comparison for this race.

There are two things to note, first all drivers saw a drop off in performance with the mediums around lap 11. More important is that second stint on the hards. 1.23s as lap times was the target, for both Ferrari and Mclaren, it seems that target lap time was determined to be best for management and speed. So it's not like Charles was going any slower to conserve, no they were all going at the same pace on those tyres, and the Mclaren's just couldn't keep that same pace up without graining. About 15 laps in Lando reported loss on his front left, and Oscar reported the same issues. They were all on the same lap times, so it's not like Mclaren were pushing harder and burning through their tyres faster(that came later) They just couldn't sustain that pace.

I think that the first 10-15 laps of that second stint both teams were feeling each other out, they were trying to set a pace they could sustain if they needed to one-stop. Mclaren experienced graining about halfway through the stint and found that they couldn't' sustain the pace needed for the one-stop in the conditions. Both drivers confirmed this both on the radio and also in post race press statements. This was kind of a game of chicken. Both teams on one-stop pace, trying to see who would blink first and pit. Mclaren blinked, they pit and Ferrari ran away with it. I think Mclaren thought that possibly this was still a game of who could pull off the undercut timing, while Ferrari were trying to ensure Mclaren gave up the places at the front.

You can see in the second hard stint that the Mclaren's really pushed the hards, that is what pushing on them actually looks like. But again at the end of the stint Oscar kind of hit a small wall with them and couldn't keep closing the gap, and it was also too late to make up the final time he needed.

What this really shows is that Charles and the Ferrari were capable of the optimal strategy in the second stint and Mclaren were not.

Quick look at Charles vs Carlos.

This really just highlights the performance of the SF-24. You can see around lap 45 where Carlos had to contend with Lando and that was also around where he hit the wall with the tyres and started to lose performance compared to Charles.

Here is Charles' data on it's own just to highlight the consistency of those lap times, he didn't experience any drop off in performance and even had the tyres left for a little bit of pushing on that final lap. This is really a visual representation of the skill Charles showed on track. At no point was he losing the tyres.

Charles was told a target lap time and he set it for 38 laps straight without fail. And he had a little left in the tank for a slightly speedier lap for the victory.

And here is Oscar vs Charles

At the end on the final two laps you can see that Oscar's pace was good, it was faster, but it wasn't increasing, so he wasn't going to catch Charles. It's unclear if he really burned through his tyres too much to be able to keep closing the gap. But Mclaren needed to find the right balance of giving him enough time to try to catch Charles, but also a window where his tyres wouldn't give out. It may just not have been possible without more conservation, and on that final stint Oscar was not doing any conservation at all.

Ferrari pulled off brilliant strategy playing to their strengths both in their car and in Charles. Even if Mclaren had had better strategy they were not going to be able to effectively counter Ferrari. They had to hope Ferrari made a mistake. And that wasn't happening, not this weekend, not this car, not this driver.

All in all a brilliant race from the entire team. And remember, if it comes down to a contest of tyre management Charles will come out on top.

Mclaren

Obligatory disclaimer you are reading about Mclaren on a Ferrari blog, and you are reading about Monza on a Ferrari blog.

That being said I don't feel too concerned about bias as Mclaren fans are also not pleased with Mclaren's team performance, so it's not just me, the team is actually just not delivering.

Lando qualified on pole and finished P3, Oscar qualified P2 and finished P2.

Now, I will say that Mclaren really were in a no-win situation the moment Charles was on a one-stop. They couldn't do a one-stop themselves so they really were left with no real way to counter. That's just the way it goes when you are up against the best tyre manager on the grid.

However Charles being brilliant does not excuse the continued bad strategy from the team.

Team Strategy

"Papaya Rules"

I feel like everything that can be said about Papaya rules has already been said, but this is the obligatory section in this analysis to say that this is a dumb name and I am not sure how anyone is meant to take the team seriously with code words like this.

Now I have also been saying this constantly this season, but Mclaren seem to really like making me repeat myself.

Mclaren have had strategy issues all year. And this one is interesting because seemingly they started off okay. Lando lost a place to Charles early in the race, but he was able to gain it back with that undercut in the pits. Mclaren specifically have struggled to get their pit timings right with Ferrari. 

However. 

I think the biggest weakness in Mclaren strategy has been the inability to account for certain possibilities, and also the inability to change plans as the track evolves. They made a lot of assumptions about this race and that led to issues for them. They assumed Ferrari were going to do a two-stop, and didn’t change that assumption until it was too late (even though Ferrari and Charles have literally undermined them before in this same way) I will given them some lenience in that the team did ask Oscar about the possibility (when it was already too late) and Oscar confirmed that a one-stop wasn't viable on his end. But they were also making that determination way too late into the race.

I wouldn't go so far as to say this was Oscar's race to lose. It was Mclaren's race to lose, and as we now know with hindsight, their inability to one-stop really meant neither driver had a chance. I don't see this as a missed win for either driver or the team simply because Ferrari and Charles were just better, and there wasn't an effective counter to a strategy they couldn't replicate with their drivers or car.

Probably the most entertaining part of this race was Mclaren thinking they successfully undercut Charles with Lando to get P2 back. Well, look how well that went over. So even when they successfully undercut they still lose.

Mclaren pit wall: 0 Charles and Ferrari: 3

One Stop a possibility?

The short answer is no. The long answer is that Mclaren asked Oscar if he thought a one-stop was possible and Oscar said no. 

Put simply, they didn't one-stop because they couldn't. Neither of their drivers thought they could one-stop with the graining they reported. And they were on the same pace as Charles in that second hard stint. So it's not like they were pushing harder on those tyres, the team wanted to see if it was possible and it wasn't. They just don't have the car and the drivers for it.

Carlos, who is better on tyres than Oscar, and was on fresher tyres than Charles had lost his tyres by the final laps. He is better or matched with the Mclaren drivers on tyre management, and also in the SF-24 which for all the faults the car may have it is the best car on the tyres, and he was hitting a wall. So do we really think that Mclaren were going to fare better? I think not. 

Oscar himself said that he was seeing pretty severe graining into his first hard stint and he wasn’t going to make it. You might say “oh but Oscar was driving assuming a two stop, he’d have conserved more if he’d known he was going to one-stop” and this is true, however he was on a similar hard pace to Charles in the hard stint, and he had graining, if he’d have had to slow even more to conserve he’d have lost the place to Charles anyway. Lando also saw graining on the front left about 15 laps into the stint. Both Mclaren drivers reported that the graining they experienced was not manageable and they would not have been able to pull off the one-stop. The team even asked Oscar if he could one-stop and he said no. I think at that point Mclaren knew Charles was going to stay out and realized they were going to lose unless Oscar could somehow make his tyres last.

Furthermore, while a driver who is exceptional at tyre management could have pulled off a one-stop in that Mclaren car, neither Oscar or Lando are really the driver for that. And I have been saying all year if it is a contest of tyre management Charles will win. They might have stayed out lost their tyres before Charles and he passed them anyway. 

Oscar especially, he is not as bad on tyres, he’s been improving, but to expect him to have improved to the level that he’d be able to hold the lead of the race for that many laps in those conditions while the car was graining on the fronts at the rate they observed is beyond his capabilities at the moment. 

The fact remains that if it comes down to a contest of tyre management Charles will win, it’s just a matter of time. It’s very difficult to counter because they can’t even copy his strategy, he has the skill and a car to pull off something that the Mclaren car cannot. They just have to watch him do it unable to really do much about it. 

Oscar

Oscar ran a solid race on his end, and it might have been a race winning drive, if Ferrari had been on a two-stop strategy. Ultimately he didn't gain any places in the end result, but he did gain one on his teammate.

The most notable part of Oscar's race was on the first lap when he overtook Lando to take the lead of the race into turns 3 and 4.

I think the footage is pretty clear, it's a clean pass, shooting for a pretty clear gap.

Lando made a mistake. He relaxed after getting through turns 1 and 2 with the lead, he broke early and eased into the corner leaving himself wide open on the outside. So open that Oscar and Charles had the opportunity to get by. He was not on guard, and you have to be if you expect to hold the lead of a race. He even left that spot open after Oscar passed which was how Charles got through.

Lando also lost some grip into turn 3 and that did not help in his ability to defend against Charles.

Oscar's overtake was fair, clean, and one of his best so far this season.

"Oscar made contact with Lando he was not in compliance with the papaya rules!": No there was no contact, it would have been mentioned on the radio if it was significant in any way. Lando also confirmed after the race that no contact was made. They got close but didn't touch.

"Oscar shouldn't have attacked his own teammate": His teammate shouldn't have left a 2 car opening and gone slow on the entry into the turn

"The team should have given orders for Lando to be ahead": they specifically didn't do that. So that's not a priority.

"Oscar is a bad teammate he should have helped Lando": He wasn't told to, in fact he was told they could race. And if Lando wanted to be ahead he should have defended better. To win you have to beat your teammate too. I can't make Mclaren give Lando priority so unless they change that Oscar can race as much as he wants.

Now, as far as teammates racing each other go I am generally in favor, so long as it's clean. And that is what happened here so I take no issue. I am not a Mclaren fan, I don't care if they should have prioritized one driver over another. However, the team's reluctance to issue team orders is certainly interesting and will likely be a problem again in future races.

The rest of Oscar's race was determined by how he was faring against Charles and Ferrari. I already outlined in detail above how that was not going to end well for him. But he was asked if he thought he could one-stop, he said no he didn't think it was possible. He reported graining and losing the tyres about 15 laps into the stint, at that rate with Ferrari reporting none he was not going to make it to the end. He ran about as good of a race as he could with the strategy that was possible for him.

Was he going to catch Charles at the end? No. There weren't enough laps left, and he pushed the hards too much closing the gap down to 2.5 seconds. They didn't have it in them to continue that.

Lando

Lando's race was determined by 1 mistake, after that he was playing catch up the rest of the race to recover places lost. He lost the lead to Oscar on lap one, and that was due to his own driving leaving a gap exposed long enough for not one but two drivers to take advantage.

He got a good start into turn one for once, and immediately thought he was safe because he pulled it off, he was then easy on the breaks into turn 3-4 and opened up to a move from Oscar that realistically should have been a window for Oscar to take. And if Oscar hadn’t I can promise you Charles would have. He just does not have the ability to defend his position, and makes very rookie mistakes. He isn’t new to this, he’s been driving in F1 for years, that time is meant to be so when he’s in a championship fight he can pull it off, and the results from this year have been weak. 

If he can’t defend from his own teammate, who is the one who will race him the cleanest (you think Max or Charles would have been easier on him?) then he can’t defend against an actual rival.

He also lost a few seconds in the pit lane when he hit the sign. Which was just weirdly sloppy even for him. It may be evidence of how bad the condition of his tyres was.

I don't have much to add about his race. I don't think he would have won, as I stated above both Mclaren's were going to end up behind Charles with that strategy.

Other Moments and Drivers of Note

George: George went off on the first chicane because he lost grip. The Mercedes was not handling well in the heat and he was never going to hold on to P3 for long. He had both Ferraris which had better race pace and handled much better in the heat behind him. It was not a matter of if but when. The Mercedes car really struggled with the track and the heat.

Only 4 drivers pulled off a one-stop in the points: Charles, Carlos, Alex, and Kevin.

Drivers outside of the points who ran a one-stop were: Franco, Daniel, Esteban, Valtteri and Zhou. Again I would not take this as evidence it was within the cards for Mclaren.

Red Bull: the red bull car was having power issues and had to operate in a lower engine mode, which compromised the team's race. I think the heat being a factor was part of the issue. The car hasn't been cooling as consistently as past models. Max and Checo were therefore more limited this weekend unable to reach full top speeds.

Final Thoughts

This race reminded us that the season is far from over, Ferrari are back at the front fighting for wins. With 8 rounds to go a lot can change on the WDC and WCC front.

Charles delivered another legendary win, Mclaren are still unable to form a strategy. Would love to see this repeat until the end of the season.

That's all I got, see you in Baku!

[utilitycaster]

Here’s my C3 hot take: I think Matt just messed up. I think att just didn’t do a good job DMing this one, and I’m sad but I don’t think the players could have solved the problems entirely on their own. The lack of a session zero makes no sense, but more to the point I think Matt just has to much Catholic Trauma tm to have told this story. His blind spot to religion v. Personal worship in his world building is to big to stick this one. His excitement about the culmination of these narratives after 9 years made him play story beats to close to his chest looking to surprise and shock his players, and also, because he was so tied to it, he didn’t pivot, or change the story to guide the players through. The pacing, especially at the beginning feels like he was entirely to excited to get to the clever plot.

Honestly… and this makes me sad, a lot of the issues feel like he sort of started believing his own mythology. I am so happy for him to be self confident but this all feels like a story guided by someone who thinks their terribly clever and so don’t have to rely on the same level of hard work, collaboration, prep, planning etc. of previous works (and also wanted to be novel, I just think of their original campaign announcement where they said “anything might happen” and sigh a little).

My bit of hope? That’s a really easy thing to come back from! I hope they reflect and improve going forward!

p.s. this isn’t to say the others couldn’t have made things BETTER, they could have, for sure.

Hi anon,

I disagree with most of this. Most crucially, this is not the form of campaign I think would come of Catholic religious trauma. Matt's mentioned he was raised nominally Catholic but he's also mentioned his parents were artists, hippies, and D&D players, and he seems to be on pretty good terms with them. I think this is a vast overstep on your part that came from basically nowhere, especially since the logical outcome of a Catholic Trauma campaign would in fact be one that actually did portray Vasselheim as a vast controlling force within the world regulating the worship of the gods across it. A pretty massive hole in the worldbuilding, at least as this campaign demands we see it, is that we really haven't seen religion as an oppressive force except in one highly specific case, and even that was spearheaded by mortals and not the gods and is indistinguishable from a purely political land grab. Like, the blind spot you mention is actually a sign that he was not raised particularly religious; someone who was raised strictly Catholic would be extremely aware of religion as a highly organized hierarchy with clear rules and a vast worldwide network and not "a few missionaries who didn't kill anyone or even forcibly convert anyone, Vasselheim seen as a good meeting spot for a worldwide conference, and Ludinus's grievances are all highly personal." Like, the Catholic Trauma version of Exandria has Vasselheim at war with the Empire for their banning of half of the prime deities, or going full Inquisition/Crusade on Hearthdell.

I want to be clear: when I accuse fans of projecting religious trauma it's because they outright have said shit like "I always like when a narrative kills the gods bc I'm a white southerner who was raised Christian". I do not say it just because they are affiliated with a specific religious denomination.

I also don't think the issue is so much believing his own mythology as much as the one major correct thing you said, which is the lack of not just a session zero but a heavy hand in character development, coupled with a very specific plot he wanted for this campaign. Campaign 1 worked because he tailored a campaign heavily to the interests and stories of the characters, and built a world around them. Campaign 2 similarly allowed for that same give-and-take; characters like Trent and Uk'otoa and Marion and the Gentleman came from the backstories the players came up with. Some of the players' ideas were changed as part of that heavier hand in character creation. The guidance for that campaign (morally gray and complex) was actually accurate, and when the characters took a sharp turn away from the planned story, Matt was able to pivot quite gracefully.

The problem really is that it's clear Matt had a very developed vision of this campaign and didn't realize that the characters of Bells Hells largely failed to fit within it. I don't think hard work wasn't done (I think there was in fact a TON of prep that we haven't seen, eg, I 100% believe Matt has an extensive amount of work done on Otohan, Ozo Cruth, Marquet, the Apex War, etc that Bells Hells simply did not see); I think, in fact, that like three hours of work that probably would have resulted in scrapping or drastically changing the characters to fit the intended story would have fixed the vast majority of problems here. It is only, frankly, because the characters are such a bad fit that the issues we're talking about (little establishment of organized religion vs. personal practice) even became issues! But it's literally that - it's not realizing that even a longform campaign can live or die on character creation. It might even be that too much prep was done ahead of time and he was too unwilling to abandon it.

[sofreddie]

Resigned 11

Summary: Y/N and Jensen are more than ready to be back home in Texas. But it seems the OE is determined to pop their bubble of happiness.

Characters: Alpha!Jensen x Omega!F!Reader, Jared, OE Agent Gus Fowler

Warnings: A/B/O Dynamics, Angst, Fluff, Smut (Unprotected sex, Knotting)

WC: 3,063

A/N: Another chapter! Woo, yay me! And yay you!

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

Part 10

Jensen was excited about the hiatus and more than ready to have Y/N home. There, they began to correct and make things right between themselves. Y/N had already spent time packing and shipping some items, so come morning, all they had to do was grab their travel bags and go.

Y/N made sure that she strictly followed the laws. Her collar was on and clearly visible. She kept her head down, mouth shut, and followed Jensen's lead, which she noticed put him at ease. He'd have less to worry about when she 'acted right,' and she tried not to beat herself up over doing that to him, even if she didn't mean to.

The studio had arranged a smaller, private flight for Jensen and Jared, so they didn't have to worry about traveling with an Omega like before. However, they couldn't avoid the paparazzi entirely, who were outside his condo building and waiting at the airport. With all the pictures, he knew someone would catch his mark, and the news would likely blow up by the time they landed in Texas.

Jared, Jensen, and Clif worked to shield Y/N as they boarded the small jet, and soon enough, they were in the air. Jensen let out a long breath, finally feeling like he could relax, if only for a moment.

Jensen relaxed in his reclined seat as Y/N and Jared chatted together. She seemed utterly comfortable around Jared, relaxing and laughing as he talked with her. He'd never seen her quite so animated and alive. The thought made jealousy bubble up again that another Alpha could have that effect on her.

But he knew Jared was only trying to make her feel better and included. He was looking out for her because he considered them family and pack. Except it occurred to Jensen that he was the only thing Y/N had. If something happened to him, she'd be alone and in danger.

He thought it might be in her best interest if they were a pack. Jared could be registered as an alternate Alpha—instead of a father, brother, or uncle—and could be a legal pack member. Jensen was confident that Jared would take care of her if anything happened.

When Y/N excused herself to the restroom, Jensen took the opportunity to talk alone with Jared. While he would need to speak with Y/N, he could start with Jared and see if he would be willing to do so.

"Hey, Jare?" Jensen spoke as he settled next to him. "I was just thinking, you know, about how alone Y/N and I are or feel."

"Hey man, you know I'm here for you. Both of you."

"We're practically pack," Jensen nervously chuckled. "But I was thinking maybe we could make that legal."

"What?" Jared chuckled.

"I want you to be her alternate Alpha in case anything happens."

Jared was quiet for a moment as he thought it over. "Have you talked to her about it?"

"Not yet."

Jared nodded, "I need to talk to Gen, but I think it's a good idea."

Jensen smiled and patted Jared's thigh before returning to his seat just as Y/N returned. She paused to peck his lips before returning to her seat and talking with Jared. This time, Jensen wasn't jealous. Instead, he was grateful and settled in for a nap.

-

While all three were well-rested on the flight, it didn't take long before the guys were full-on Alpha, and Y/N was panicking. She focused on the laws and what was required of Omegas. The overwhelming scents of angry and protective Alphas filled the sealed cabin, soothing and choking the Omega.

As feared, news of Jensen's claim had gone viral. When they landed, his phone was flooded with social media messages and messages from friends and family. Most of the messages he received were supportive. The media and public had mixed reactions, further fueled by the international debate over Omega's Rights.

Thankfully, Clif got them from the plane and took them to their respective homes without incident. As the doors of their homes closed, shutting out the world behind them, Jensen and Y/N let out a collective sigh of relief.

"I'm so happy to be home," Y/N sighed.

The last time they were here was like a honeymoon. The trip to Vancouver hadn't been as great as they had hoped. Back in their home, their nest, where their family would one day grow, they could move past the ugliness and into a happy normal.

"Me too," Jensen agreed, wrapping his arms around her from behind and kissing behind her ear.

She tilted her head as he brushed her hair to the side, gently removing her collar before carelessly tossing it somewhere in the room. Her eyes followed where it landed, and she fought the urge to retrieve it. Instead, she gave in to the sensations that jolted through her as her Alpha kissed sweetly over his claim.

Turning in his arms, her eyes landed on her claim on his neck. Gently covering it with her hand, she fought back tears. Once again, he was facing worry and ruin because of her.

"Don't," Jensen interrupted her thoughts, feeling as if he could hear her through their renewed bond.

"I feel like I just make things worse for you. If I just behaved-" She cut herself off, sobbing.

Jensen kissed her, deep and passionate, trying not only to chase away her invasive thoughts but to show her how wrong she was. He was grateful for her, loved her, and would do anything for her happiness.

Jensen scooped her into his arms, delighted in her surprised squeal and giggle. She buried her face against his neck as he carried her upstairs. Teasing him, she kissed and nipped at her claim. He growled as he burst into the bathroom, putting her on her feet only to cup her face and kiss her fiercely.

"Get naked," Jensen spoke against her lips, and he hastily removed his clothes. She grinned and followed his command, knowing it was a request. One she was all too eager to comply with.

The moment she was nude, Jensen had her in his arms, kissing her as he ushered her into the shower. He turned on the water, kissing and caressing as the water cascaded down upon them. He needed her to feel and know he wasn't upset with her, disappointed, or having regrets about anything between them. It was the world that was wrong, not them.

Driven by a desperate need to prove himself, Jensen turned Y/N against the tiled shower wall and dropped to his knees. She gasped and clung to him as he lifted one of her legs on his shoulder, opening her up for him. He places kisses from her knee and up her thigh, building her up for what was coming.

It didn't take long for him to have her coming, her sweet tang on his tongue easing his cravings for her. He left her leaning against the wall, catching her breath, watching her with a sly grin as he hastily washed himself.

Once Y/N gathered herself, she was flushed and hungry for her Alpha. Returning his grin with a coy smile, she lowered to her knees, desperate to taste him. Jensen stopped her, lifted her to her feet, and kissed the pout from her lips.

"Not yet," he spoke as he turned, putting her under the warm spray. "Let me?" he asked, holding a washcloth.

Y/N bit her lip and nodded, letting Jensen bathe her from head to toe. He lingered, kissing in various spots, gently washing her skin. It both relaxed and aroused her. Once the water was off, Jensen dried them off before scooping Y/N in his arms. He carried her into the bedroom and laid her gently on the bed, climbing over her as he did, keeping them close.

The silence enhanced every look and touch. Neither of them needed words to understand what the other wanted and needed. They moved in sync, changing positions and taking turns giving and taking pleasure, driving it out until the need to release was too much to bear.

With a final change, Y/N was on her knees, legs wide and belly pressed into the mattress as she presented and mewled for her Alpha. Jensen groaned in approval, sliding deep within her core, a feeling of coming home. Angling his hips, Jensen fucked Y/N hard as he drove them both toward their final release.

Y/N came first with a shout, Jensen's knot popping and locking them together as they rode their highs. Kissing her claim, Jensen carefully moved them to their sides to spoon while they waited for Jensen's knot to recede.

-

Leaning her hip against the frame, Y/N gazed out of the glass doors into the backyard, sipping at her coffee as the sun began to rise. She had already made breakfast, knowing her Alpha would wake soon.

As if thinking him into existence, she smelled her Alpha before his hands slid around her waist from behind. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she hummed content, tilting her head as Jensen placed featherlight kisses around his claim.

"Morning, Alpha," she whispered, turning in his arms. She handed him her mug, giggling as he mumbled something that sounded like "mornin'" and chugged the remainder of the coffee. Without a word, Y/N took the mug and maneuvered around Jensen, pouring two fresh cups and handing him one.

"You cooked?" Jensen asked, finally awake enough to speak and notice the food.

Y/N simply smiled and prepared him a plate. Setting it on the table, she ushered Jensen to sit, kissed him on the head, and headed to make herself a plate.

Before Jensen could take a bite, a knock on the door interrupted their morning. Glancing at the clock, Jensen saw it was only nine in the morning. Looking through the peephole, he saw a large man with an OE badge hanging on a lanyard around his neck.

Y/N could sense the presence of an Alpha other than Jensen. She took a deep breath and rushed to retrieve her collar. Another series of knocks sounded as she secured her collar in place, and Jensen opened the door to greet the man.

"Jensen Ackles?"

Jensen huffed as he stood tall and squared his shoulders, nodding minutely to the Alpha on his doorstep—a threat to him and his Omega. The man smirked at Jensen's display.

"My name is Gus Fowler, Omega Enforcement Officer assigned to you and your Omega's probationary cases. May I come in?"

Jensen wasn't sure if he had given access or if Agent Fowler had forced his way in as they moved in sync, granting him entry to their home. He couldn't refuse him if he wanted to, not without causing even more trouble for Y/N and himself. Jensen closed the door, focusing on the Alpha in their home as Agent Fowler glanced around the place.

Y/N stood still in the foyer, her head bowed and hands clasped in front of her, silent and waiting. Jensen hadn't even seen her out on the collar. He'd never seen her so obedient, which made him feel sick and enraged. She knew Jensen was uncomfortable and decided to take the lead.

"Welcome to our home, Agent Fowler," Y/N greeted, her eyes and head lowered to the ground as she spoke. "I have just made breakfast and coffee."

"Coffee would be great," he answered, following Y/N with a satisfied smirk.

Pulling out a chair, Y/N gestured for him to sit as she moved to the kitchen. Jensen sat at the table, focused entirely on the Alpha in his home. Y/N brought coffee service to the table, setting the tray between the men and standing off to the side like a servant awaiting orders.

Now, Jensen was thoroughly confused. First, he had no idea they even owned a coffee service, but it was a pleasant and seemingly useful surprise. Second, Y/N was acting entirely out of character. She was the picture of an obedient Omega and wife, to a point that made his stomach churn. It was everything he didn't want for her.

He knew she had been studying. Now, he could see that put to work, playing her part to the legal letter. She was sending him soothing vibes to keep him calm, but it was only helping so much.

Agent Fowler smirked as he looked over Y/N and prepared a cup of coffee for himself.

"Can your Omega join us?" he asked Jensen as he sipped.

Nodding, Jensen gestured Y/N to him on his side, out of reach of the other man. Agent Fowler grinned at the action, opening a file and sipping his drink. Y/N kept her gaze on the table. Jensen kept his hand firmly on her thigh, both protective and possessive.

"So, as I mentioned, I'm here on behalf of the OE to explain your probationary terms now that you're home and on break."

Jensen tried not to scoff. This man represented everything Jensen had come to despise. While making it seem like a courtesy call, he knew it was anything but.

"I'll start with the Omega."

"Y/N," Jensen spoke through gritted teeth.

"Very well," Fowler jotted down notes with a huff before continuing. "Y/N. As of now, you are not to leave this property unless you are with Jensen or another authorized Alpha."

"I understand," Y/N whispered, trying to fight back her emotions and remain calm for her Alpha's sake. She could feel he was on edge, and she didn't want either of them to suffer further.

"I'd like to add an alternate Alpha," Jensen requested.

"Are they blood or pack relation to you or Y/N?"

"We're a pack," Jensen responded. "Just not on paper yet."

"Alright," Fowler nodded, pulling papers from his file and handing them to Jensen with a pen. "If you fill out these forms, I can submit the pack and Alpha registrations for you."

Jensen huffed but began completing the forms. Perhaps naively, he thought this would be a quick visit. He hadn't even talked to Y/N about his talk with producers. The OE wasn't messing around and determined that he and Y/N would comply with their terms.

As Jensen completed and returned the forms, Agent Fowler put them away and focused on the Alpha.

"Mr. Ackles, you have been ordered to complete Alpha Ownership and Rut Management classes. The OE has coordinated through your manager and lawyer on your schedule, so there are no overlaps, and you can complete the legal requirements without issue."

Jensen growled under his breath as Fowler jotted more notes. He was constantly making notes as he spoke, questioned, and observed.

"As discussed with your team, you cannot leave the state until the classes are completed; all other things fit around that."

Jensen sat a little taller, and his eyes narrowed at the Alpha across from him. Fowler’s eyes drifted to the claim on Jensen’s neck, his disapproval evident.

“I recommend you cover that,” Fowler said as he jotted more notes, gesturing to the claim with his pen. “At least while you’re attending classes.”

“Is it illegal for an Alpha to have a claim?” 

Fowler sighed, dropping his pen and clasping his hands together as he looked between the pair before him. 

“No. No laws prevent an Alpha from being claimed by their Omega. But it is frowned upon and might make things harder for you, especially with other Alphas.” 

Fowler sighed again, some of the tension and assertiveness going out of him. “Look, I’m not here to judge you. I’m here to enforce the law. Whether I or you agree with it or not, the law is the law.”

Agent Fowler jotted down a few more notes before finishing, standing from his seat and tucking the chair back in. “I’ll visit with your Alpha friend and complete the Alternate and Pack establishment registration. You’ll receive official copies, which should only be a few days, a week at the most. Here’s a copy of the schedule for your classes.”

“I’ll show you out,” Jensen grumbled, kissing Y/N’s head before following Fowler to the door. 

The second the door closed behind him, Y/N took a deep breath, relaxing a little from all the stress. She dashed out the back glass door into the garden, inhaling a deep breath with her eyes closed. The overwhelming stench of Alphas in a pissing contest wasn’t doing her any favors. Jensen was so angry and on edge with having an unwanted person and Alpha in his home. It took everything she had to keep her composure and not whine over her Alpha’s distress.

“Omega?”

Y/N turned to see Jensen approaching her with an inquisitive gaze, though he was still agitated, and his scent was thick.

“I’m so sorry.”

“For what? You were fucking perfect in there,” Jensen defended. “Which, by the way, really freaked me out.”

“You have to go through all of this because of me because I wasn’t a good and proper Omega.”

“Y/N-”

“I’m so sorry,” she whined, and Jensen could no longer resist the urge to have her in his arms.

He hugged her tight as she dealt with her surge of emotions. He could feel the rollercoaster inside her and gave her the comfort she desperately needed, taking the chance to scent her, her essence calming him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about my talk with the producers, Jared, or any of it,” Jensen softly spoke. “I was going to this morning, but I didn’t know he was coming, so he just dropped all that.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “I knew after everything and the claim that you’d probably have to talk to someone about it. Again, my fault.”

“Stop.” Jensen insisted, pulling back just enough to capture her gaze and hold it firmly. “The world is wrong, Baby, not us.”

Y/N nodded and smiled, tucking herself back into his hold, her head under his chin as she soaked up his warm and rich scent, now less angry and more just him. One way or another, they’d get through this. Together.

PART 12

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[ssahotchnerr]

I just had a bit of a spooky experience, and I was wondering if you could do something fluffy with Aaron and a reader whose afraid of the dark? Just need something sweet and reassuring. Love your stuff xx

hold onto me

omg i'm so sorry i hope you're alright <333 cw; mild descriptions of anxiety and fear of the dark, established relationship

storms were scheduled on the forecast all week, so it was bound to happen at some point. and of course, at the most convenient of times.

aaron and yourself were in the old bau bunker, or as dave strictly corrected you both - the bsu bunker. the two of you were in search of some old files that had been collecting dust, files that would hopefully be helpful and a reliable reference in a project the team was collectively working on.

you had to admit, going through the contents of the room was fascinating. it held an extensive amount of history and memories; it was the literal beginning of the bau and what it has come to be. in addition to the ancient files, both of you would occasionally come across other various items to show one another: old photographs, some of gideon's ancient bird books, and aaron happened to find an old wedding ring lost in a drawer - which you swore had to be one of dave's.

and both related and unrelated, the most important factor to you, the bau had brought you to your aaron.

it was another world down there, so you'd nearly forgotten that it was storming gravely outside. but, a sudden crash of thunder shook the entire building, and the room submitted to darkness faster than you could blink. and it being as old as it was, it didn't contain emergency lights, or windows for that matter, hidden deep in the basement. the two of you were surrounded by a seemingly endless void; you wouldn't even be able to see your hand in front of your face if you tried.

you jumped immediately, the side of your thigh hitting the table and rousing all the items on it, some even clattering to the floor. you didn't even notice the instant ache that shot down your leg, your fear all-consuming.

"shit. stay where you are." you could hear aaron moving about, bumping into things as well as he attempted to make sense of the darkness, and to get to you, fully aware of your intense fear of the dark, "honey, are you alright?"

you didn't answer, eyes squeezed shut as you shrunk back against the closest wall you could find. besides the sounds of aaron cursing under his breath, 'of course my damn phone is in my office' or his reassurances, 'i'm almost there, it's going to be okay', it was deathly silent; so quiet it was almost threatening.

you didn't even realize you were shaking profusely until you were in secure in aaron's arms. he wrapped you tightly in his embrace, your face pressed into his chest as he shielded you. instead of the grimy, stiff smell of the bunker, you were encircled with the familiar scent of aaron, something soft and sweet but still vastly masculine.

"you're okay sweetheart. here, let me..." he reached into your back pocket, finding your phone and turning the flashlight on, unforgotten to yourself in your panicked state. the light illuminated his face, thankfully, but also casted shadows from the furniture and whatnot onto the walls. it made the musty old room more menacing, terrifying.

your fingers gripped onto his dress shirt, closing your eyes once more as your face burrowed into the crook of his neck, searching to be closer, "aaron."

"i know, i know you hate it." he consoled you, one of his hands spanning your back. "stay close, hold onto me."

his hand placement, and the fact you were clinging onto him, allowed him to guide you easily, without you having to remove yourself from him - to be fair, you couldn't even if you tried. he navigated the two of you out, vaguely manhandling you and taking the brunt himself as he ran or tripped into lingering objects. he only had one objective, removing you from the situation as safely and quickly as possible.

once in the hallway, could you finally breathe. the power was still absent, but it was brighter, emergency lights on a bit further down the hall. it took you a second to regain your senses, your heart rate slowing to normal.

aaron's hands cupped your face, his thumbs running against your cheeks gently. his eyes searched yours, lined with concern and a gentleness, "you okay?"

you nodded, pressing your forehead to his for a brief moment.

"you're okay. you're safe." he repeated, in case you needed another reminder, another reassurance. he pressed his lips to yours for a moment, a hand moving to the small of your back, "i'll have dave and reid head down here a bit later instead. let's get you upstairs love."

[actualori]

wrote a little fanfic based off a headcanon discussed in the flower husbands discord

summary: scott and jimmy have known each other for years but have never seen each others faces. they both had been mandated to wear veils to cover them, up until today

content warnings: low self esteem and highly negative view on self image, slight panic attacks, and a lot of spiralling

Jimmy’s heart was about to pound right out of his chest. Today’s the day. He’s been waiting for this ever since he’d started dating Scott. The day that’s been carefully planned out by so many different people, none of which being him. The day that’ll determine the course of their relationship forever.

They could finally take their veils off.

Veils were significant in both their cultures. For Jimmy, it was a symbol of honesty. Lovers wore veils throughout their whole relationship to ensure their partner would fall in love with them for who they are, and not how they look. For Scott, it was a symbol of purity. Elves are highly religious, and most forms of intimacy early in a relationship are strictly forbidden. Ancient priests had mandated veils to try and prevent it. Much to their dismay, the procedure was ineffective and as a result, the veils became optional, save for royalty.

(Rumour has it that their beauty is so unreal it’s terrifying. Scott had just laughed when Jimmy brought that up.)

So here Jimmy was, sitting anxiously on a chair waiting for his lover, having no idea what to expect. Scott had tried and failed to describe his face to Jimmy countless times before, every painting he’d seen of the elf looked different than the last, and all witnesses of his beauty could only claim his beauty was extraordinary and unmatched.

Jimmy shot up at the knock from the door. He adjusted his veil, strode over to the door, and swung it open. Scott stood on the other side, anxiously wringing his hands together. At least Jimmy wasn’t the only one nervous.

“Are you ready?” Scott asked after what felt like years of awkward silence.

Jimmy nodded and stepped back, allowing Scott to enter the room.

“Where do you want to be?” Scott asked.

Not trusting his voice to be steady when he spoke, Jimmy pointed to his bed. They settled on Jimmy’s bed, with Scott kneeling at the end and Jimmy squished into the pillows. He ran his fingers along the smooth sheets to ground himself and took a deep breath.

“We don’t have to do this,” Scott whispered, sensing Jimmy’s anxiety.

Yes, they do. They have to do this today. Jimmy wishes they didn’t- the thought of showing anyone his face makes him want to vomit. But he can’t say no, he’s not allowed to refuse. And even then, Scott’s been looking forward to this day for their entire relationship. Jimmy couldn’t rob him of this.

And there’s some small part of him that aches for this, just as much as Scott.

“No no,” Jimmy lied, shaking his head. “I want to. I’m just nervous.”

“Do you want me to go first?” Scott asked slowly, taking Jimmy’s hand and rubbing his thumb along his scales.

“Please,” Jimmy whispered, barely audible.

After taking a deep breath of his own, Scott let go of Jimmy’s hand and brought it up to his veil.

Jimmy watched, entranced as Scott’s perfectly manicured hands unpinned the veil from his clothes. His breath hitched as the fingers disappeared under the white cloth. And in what felt like slow motion, the veil slipped off Scott’s face.

Scott is beautiful. Gorgeous. The rumors were correct. This was a type of beauty no painting could ever translate and no words could describe. Ice blue eyes gazed into Jimmy’s brown and plump pink lips turned up in a nervous smile. Pale skin and rosy cheeks matched his delicate hands, that clutched the discarded veil. Jimmy knew he was gawking but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from his lover's face.

A cold realization flooded Jimmy’s body. How on earth could Jimmy compare to that? Scott was a literal goddess on Earth and Jimmy was, well, a fish. Cod weren’t known for many things, and beauty definitely wasn’t one. Even then, Jimmy looked a lot more fish-like than the other Cod, something he’d always been insecure about, and wearing a veil effectively hid it away.

His eyes were wide and far apart with a small smooth nose between them. His lips were thin and his mouth was wide. Hundreds of green and brown scales covered his cheeks and forehead, save for the small space reserved for his gills.

Nothing about that anybody had seen as beautiful.

“Are you okay?” Scott murmured, reaching over to hold Jimmy’s hand again.

“You’re beautiful,” Was all Jimmy could muster for a response.

Scott laughed softly. “That’s what I’ve been told. Are you okay with taking off yours now?”

Jimmy squeezed his eyes shut and tried to calm his racing heart. After a minute of shallow breaths, he nodded his head.

It felt so surreal watching his free hand lift up to his face. He felt detached from his body as his fingers unclasped the veil. There was no chance Scott would love him after this. He deserved someone much better. Glancing up, Jimmy saw Scott’s soft and understanding smile.

Well, it's better to get dumped now than later.

Mustering up all the strength he could, Jimmy ripped the veil off his face. A surprised gasp was heard from across the bed. Jimmy stared hard at the intricate blankets, convinced this was the last he’d see them. This was probably the last time he’d see any of this room, palace, or any of Rivendell.

Hot tears slipped down his cheeks. It was over. A whole year, the best year of his life, gone. The constant love and affection he’d received, now surely about to be taken away.

“Jimmy? What’s wrong?” Scott asked worried, his voice barely reaching Jimmy’s ears.

He is ugly. He is so ugly. He’s hideous and Scott is gorgeous and doesn’t deserve someone so atrocious.

The tears escalated into sobs. Jimmy’s hands ripped out of Scott's, earning a cry of concern. Shudders wracked through his whole body and he curled into a ball. This was a bad idea. Why did he think he could do this? Why did he think this would ever work?

Cold hands reached into his cocoon of despair and were immediately swatted away. Scott’s panicked shouts sounded from a million miles away.

It was over it was over it was-

Comforting arms wrapped around him. Jimmy’s sobs paused as his body was pulled into his lover's lap, kept in a secure embrace.

“Jimmy,” Scott whispered into Jimmy’s hair “Why are you crying?”

Scott’s voice was gentle and sympathetic. Shouldn’t he be yelling at Jimmy? Shouldn’t he be insulting and berating him? This didn’t make any sense.

Jimmy dared to look up and was met with a face full of worry and fear.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m ugly,” Was all Jimmy could say.

Concern morphed into confusion as Scott glanced over Jimmy’s face.

“Ugly?”

Jimmy nodded. “You’re so pretty and I’m not and now you’re going to leave me forever.”

To Jimmy’s surprise, a soft laugh sounded from his lover.

“Petal,” Scott smiled “My beauty is rotten compared to yours.”

What?

Jimmy shifted in Scott’s lap and faced him properly.

“You really think so?” He whispered in disbelief.

“I know so,” Scott replied, pressing his forehead against Jimmy’s. “You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. Why would I ever think otherwise?”

“Because… I look… weird?” Jimmy guessed

Giggles erupted from Scott. “So? I would never leave you for looking weird.”

Embarrassment crept through Jimmy, turning his face red. He groaned and flopped his head on Scott’s shoulder.

“I feel silly now,” Jimmy said, muffled in the fabric.

Scott hummed, reaching up to card his fingers through Jimmy’s hair. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I’m sorry,” Jimmy whispered, shifting his head to face Scott. “I was scared to take off my veil because I thought that you were going to hate me for being ugly. I overreacted a lot and you didn’t deserve that.”

“Thank you for the apology,” Scott cupped Jimmy’s face in his hands. “I promise I will never hate you for how you look. And I’m sorry for pressuring you to do this with me.”

“I’m glad you did,” Jimmy sniffled, “I feel a lot better about myself now.”

“That’s wonderful to hear,” Scott murmured as he pressed a soft kiss to Jimmy’s head. “Do you want to put your veil back on?”

“No. I’m okay now.”

“If you change your mind I promise I won’t judge you.”

Jimmy wiped his eyes and sighed. “I love you petal.”

“I love you too.”

[trainsinanime]

I feel like we need to separate some related concepts here to have better discussions; on particular separating art from the artist, death of the author, and one that doesn’t have a direct name so I’m calling it the JK Rowling problem.

I am not an expert about any of this, and I probably get some things wrong, but here is how I would briefly distinguish these terms:

Separating art from the artist is about enjoyment. Do you still like the work now that you know the scandal behind its creation? This is a strictly personal thing, in my opinion there are rarely completely wrong or completely right answers here. This is all about how you feel.

Death of the author is about meaning. It comes from an essay about the actual meaning of texts, and states that there is no one meaning and in particular the author's intention is irrelevant; only what you read and get out of a text matters. It is not more correct to find out the author’s biography to answer open questions, and even if you ask the author, their answer is just an opinion like yours, not an undeniable truth.

As a philosophical approach to analysis, death of the author does not deal at all with any scandals. It applies whether you like the author and/or text or not. And it isn’t itself an immutable truth; you can do analysis from this point of view, or explicitly analyse a text from the view of „how does this mesh with what we know about the author“.

Finally, the JK Rowling problem (name pending) is about money. Am I willing to pay this person money by buying their books? Their merch? What about movies and TV shows (which get far lower residuals)? This may seem fairly obvious at first gets more difficult the more steps you add in between. E.g. is it okay to wear merch I bought before or does this still advertise the work and keep it culturally relevant? What about using the made-up classification systems of that fantasy world to describe myself? What about writing fanfic? What about writing weird fanfic? (And also „What do any of these things say about me?“, which is arguably another question entirely.)

This question isn’t really about art at all, it also applies e.g. to people who own or are considering buying a Tesla car. It’s about capital, both literal and political.

I‘m not trying to answer any of these questions here, I just want to point out how they’re different. They are still closely related and typically all appear at the same time, but it’s okay to have different answers for them. Enjoyment, Meaning, Money, those are linked when it comes to fiction, but they’re still distinct questions.

[tossawary]

Regarding "The Hobbit" film trilogy, even if I ended up personally disliking and resenting how much time and focus the elf characters (and others) ended up taking away from the dwarves whom I think deserved more focus as rich internal characters (I know that studio pressures are a factor in that terrible love triangle and so on), I still... vaguely appreciate the effort to create and include named female characters like Tauriel, when the book is sadly lacking in them. I think she's fine, actually. Comparatively, there are many other elements in these adaptations that I think are much, MUCH worse.

But still, if you want to add female characters to this story, the obvious answer to me seems to be to just make half the Company into dwarf women? (With similarly fancy beards and other facial hair! Because I think that's fun.) It's just... so much easier?

Do NOT come at me with that "dwarf women are rare" bullshit. Unreliable narration. Logistically unlikely. Also, if you believe that "men are the warriors and craftsmen, the women stay at home" is how dwarf society strictly functions (boring, honestly, on top of being incredibly sexist), I could argue that the Battle of Azanulbizar and other struggles probably left a significant dent in this dwarf group's male population, leaving behind many widows and mothers without children to pick up the work. The battlefields have come to and TAKEN both Erebor and Moria from the dwarves. I see no good reason why dwarf women would not have equal investment in reclaiming their home and the gold. Many of the Company are not presented to be formally trained warriors, anyway.

Now, ideally, we could do way queerer stuff in terms of both romance and gender here, but we know cowards with veto powers would not let this happen. Still, I feel like basic genderbending would have been a very doable move and is, actually, a very reasonable ask of an adaptation that would have added some depth to the story even if you didn't acknowledge the change at all.

Like, preferably, this would be an adaptational change that would be directly addressed. Maybe all of the Company appear male at first due to traveling that way (and assumptions made by humans and hobbits), then Bilbo might learn that some of the Company are dwarf women when he becomes closer to all of them. We could have a brief scene acknowledging that dwarf women are fighting these battles for their pasts and their futures too. It doesn't have to be a big thing! They can just be there. Existing. Participating.

I even think it would be fun if two of the dwarves were actually an older married couple traveling together, instead of brothers or cousins, because loving married bickering and battle couples are fun. You can have running jokes in the background about how Smaug's invasion ruined their wedding day, and going back and forth with "you never take me anywhere nice" @ each other whenever they're stuck in Goblintown or the Mirkwood dungeons. (I like seeing good marriages & partnerships in fiction and established couples going on fantasy quests together. I just think it's neat.)

But another (sillier) direction is that you could just cast some actresses in beards to play some of the dwarves, then leave the fact that some of these characters are probably dwarf women (traveling as men) as a fun detail for the audience. Bilbo is either too oblivious to notice or much too polite to bring it up at all. It's canonically compliant to the text this way!

Now, obviously some few people would have complained that Tolkien's work was being ruined by "political correctness", but they complained anyway about Tauriel (when there are MANY other bad choices in these movies), and what worthwhile arguments could they have possibly made against genderbending some of the THIRTEEN dwarves? Like, most casual fans I know cannot NAME the entire Company, who get so little character development in the book that the films had to come up with unique designs and backgrounds for most of them anyway. Bro (directed towards someone objecting to the idea of including female dwarves), be real, there's no way that you honestly cared this much about "Nori the Dwarf" before right now.

[bunningchaos]

Runaway

I finallllyyy, got this done- story thingy for KVAU on the sideline, so far got the first introduction chapter up

↼↼{Nil} - {Next}⇀⇀

Original Nightmare/Dream belongs to jokublog, on Tumblr!

Summary - Having nowhere else to return to, and forced to be on the run. Away from the hands of whom he once addressed as 'Brother'. Nightmare travels from one universe to another, in an attempt to remain undetected. Until he comes across tormented souls that screams for help. Unable to look the other way, takes them under his wings.. not without facing some issues.

Link to the AO3 for the chapter

And because I can, here's the drawing without the text

Anyways

✕-✕

Being on the run constantly, never having even the smallest amount of time to take a breather. His legs were beginning to ache with every heavy steps forward, one after another weighing him down more and more. The echoing footsteps accompanied by a noise similar to that of a wet cloth being dragged across a kitchen's counter, the accursed tendrils that drips with black goo. Staining the path he takes, it reeks heavily of negativity. That damned corruption that won't leave his body - every since THAT day, spurting out from his back yet can't even maintain a proper form. No matter how hard he tries to keep it hidden, or to control it to do something, anything. Nothing worked. The least he could muster was lifting up the tip of the extra appendage just to do a tiny wave, if it could even be counted as one. Given how useless it's proven to be so far.

Hah.

To hell with that. No, damn every single thing!

This forsaken body of his, riddled with corruption and adding onto the fact he have a rather weak physique from the get-go.

The desperate need to slow down when he knows for a fact, that danger is lurking right behind him. Yet he couldn't push forward for longer than his limits could allow. Resulting in close-calls where he could practically feel the presence of whom is hunting him down right next to him, staying as silent as possible and even curling in on himself where he hid. Praying desperately that he'd remain undetected. To not be found, dragged back to the hell he once called 'home'.

Why can't his very own body, listen to himself? Why must it get exhausted so easily, to crave for food and water. It wasn't this bad in the past, he could go for days on end without giving into mortal needs such as those. When he was with his brother..

 

...Right, his brother. His other half, the only sole person he had in his entire life. Aside from those residing in the village near the majestic 'Tree Of Feelings', sure they were the probably nicest bunch of people he's ever met in his entire life!- correction, his entire childhood. He still preferred Dream at the end of the day, his beloved precious twin. Whom were always the one closest to him, and vice versa. They were usually together- or so he recalls, no matter what they've always been by each others' side. Through thick and thin, not once have he allowed anyone else into his SOUL, to understand him as deeply, it was all limited to strictly Dream. Perhaps he didn't connect with others as much? Whatever, it wasn't an issue, it never was. Though it's strange, he never actually got the chance to see Dream within the village. But, at the end of the day, when they both retreat out of the lively town and back underneath the tree. Nightmare always beams at the sight of his lovely brother, the sunshine adored by all including Nightmare

This very sunshine, Dream, returned the same adoration towards the moon that didn't shine as brilliantly. Words weren't necessary, Nightmare could literally feel the adoration his brother held for him and that was enough.

 

So, the day that incident occurred? To simply say his whole view on the definition 'trust' was broken, shattered into pieces, were an underestimation. Every fiber of his body hurt from inside out, the overwhelming, nauseating scene induced the urge to throw up.  What hurts the most wasn't the dreaded condition everyone fell under, nor the sickening laughter that rang and echoed within his mind.

It was the absolute realization of betrayal from his twin, no less. Why? Why did he have to do what he did?

Everything was fine.

Life was going okay.

No one was unhappy.

 

No one...

 

...

 

Was Dream ever happy?

 

Was it all a delusion?

 

Did Nightmare do something wrong?

Had he blind himself to the truth?

 

What have he not seen that led to Dream having to take such drastic actions?

 

Even now, he could still remember the way Dream cried- golden tears streaming down the delicate ivory bone. Positivity burning brightly and engulfing the surrounding with nothing but scorching warmth, comforting but deadly. The way he smiled, through the burning pain. As if he didn't hold a single ounce of regret for his decision, that twisted joy. It was horrendous, terrifying. It scarred him mentally.

 

"Ugh--" Wincing, his head throbbed. That was the furthest extent he could remember, everything else was a blur. Vague recollection of him holding onto five darkened apples within his arms were the only other thing he's capable of pulling up from the muddled, fuzzy mess.

 

How long has it been since his last rest? Surely now should be alright to relax, even for just a few minutes. Right? Singular violet eyelight glancing around, scanning the surrounding to ensure there wasn't anyone nearby. Specifically more aware about even the slightest bit of positivity. As that'd usually be a huge indicator that a certain someone were nearby, prompting a hurried, poor attempt to hide.

However, coming to the conclusion that he was safely alone. He could finally ease the tension within his body, though that made him all the more aware of the temperature. One simple breeze sent shivers down his entire body.

 

It's cold, so cold.

..Dream

 

Brother.

 

It's so lonely.

 

"..I don't want to be alone...-" A sob broke out from his gritted teeth, purple droplets rolling down his cheekbones- ones that fell from the left socket, mixed in with the corruption that oozed from the top of his skull, nearly covering that entire upper-side of his face except for a small bit that grant him the tiniest remainder of vision on that specific socket.

Alas, this serves as another way to bring attention to his very skull, the same socket itself was melting. Perhaps an additional aftereffect induced from the consumption of the very fruits that he was tasked to protect with his life. 

Going against his sworn duty for which his birth were created for, having to bear with the overwhelming negativity that flooded every fiber of his body- one bite after another into the apple, Letting the magic surge within the pathetically fragile body he possesses.

Agonizing, the entire time feeling like he's being ripped apart limb by limb. One bone after another, alongside experiencing the lowest drop in temperature that even a monster wouldn't be able to handle.

No ordinary living being would, one can even compare it to being thrown straight within space, locked within containers filled with nothing but ice-cold water where the chill gets drastically worse. At points nearly coughing out the bits of fruits that he took, having to forcibly coax his body into swallowing it all- to consistently encourage himself.

'This is for your own good',

'You're doing great.',

'One more apple, just the last one'

and.. 'The pain will be over soon'.

All of those, being lies, pure deception to lull himself into the final digestion of all five apples he snatched from the tree. His own mother- creator, who gave him and his brother life. Moments before fleeing from the latter that did the exact same thing he had done, the only reason he pulled the same thing off was the terrifying reality regarding the apples' safety.

No doubt, Dream is seeking for it all back, ultimately having turned majority of the once evenly-split amount of fruits that the almighty tree beared, into absolute positivity. Ridding negativity to a extreme, a drastic low where even Nightmare struggled to function for a few.. weeks? Months? He lost track of time really, or was it years?

 

Everything, regardless of where he stepped foot in- was hot, calescent. For the first few.. months, or so he assumes. Positivity raging like a hellfire that burnt everything in sight, affecting even those that remained blissfully unaware of the changes. Similar to that of a tsunami that comes full-force and slowly subside, things gradually calmed down.

At the same time, negativity began arising from the pit that it was shoved down into. That's not to say Nightmare is pleased nor agree with the horrific acts and scenes that he witnesses when attempting to stay within one of those few universes at first to recope and recharge but, interfering wasn't in his range of capability during then. Having to learn how to drown out the surrounding noises, pretend he's hard of hearing and sight.

Only taking his leave when he's able to recover enough strength to carry on for a few days. Even just an hour's worth of negativity, which weren't much, have the potential to keep him going for days if he manages his reserve well. That is.

...At times not even managing to get that much, the least were five minutes at max. Courtesy of Dream showing up.

 

Although he now knew the physical and mental torment that Dream had to endure, one thing he couldn't remotely grasp was. The other's change in behavior, his entire attitude and mindset seeming to have morphed into someone new entirely. To the point that even Nightmare couldn't identify who the opposing guardian were, if not for the sheer positivity he emanated and the familiarity of his soul.

Their souls, intertwined in such a way that there’s an invisible connection which granted them the capability to speak telepathically, similar to that of soulmates, rather, bondmates would be much easier to explain. By no means were they in a contract or pledged any vow to one another, those were never necessary. They're two halves of the same coin afterall. Understanding each other pretty well. with or without words.

But that was the exact same thing that Nightmare despised. Loathing it so much as it allowed Dream to constantly attempt talking to him through their bond. Coaxing him to return, with words sweet as honey. Otherwise, on a daily basis- locating him. Albeit Nightmare always made a run for it, irritatingly enough leading to a huge wastage of energy.

It took Nightmare plenty of effort, excruciating painful attempts- day after day, to sever their ties. Dwindling the connection to a minimum, ensuring it won't ever work the way it used to. Making it harder for him to be located now that the both of them couldn't properly sense each other anymore. It was always disadvantageous for himself from the beginning anyways, 

 

If Nightmare still remained practically the same mentally, even after taking not one, but five of the apples of his own side. Then what even happened to Dream? Does the amount consumed affect those mentally and emotionally too, if it exceeds a certain amount? Do, the brother- his sibling, whom he used to have.. still exist...?

Baseless assumptions these all were, he had no means of checking nor anyone to ask. The twins were unique, different from the rest of those that resided within the Multiverse. Whilst their appearance were that of a skeleton monster, their actual physical form- were far different, however it ceased to exist long ago, as they have blended in perfectly with the vessel they were put into.

Harming or injuring them critically may end up permanently killing them. No matter if they're superior, godly beings whom were literal embodiments of both, positivity and negativity respectively. Created with the sole purpose to maintain the multiverse's balance stability, and ensure that everyone remains free from any possible calamity doomed to befall if the balance is tipped off far too much onto one end.

 

The outcome is presumed to be a sight of pure tragedy. 

 

This current.. branch-off from a universe's timeline, was neutral. Nearly completely empty if he had to roughly gauge the amount of souls that were present. Which were harder than expected, granted, because of his lack in energy and the fact that those living beings didn't have enough strong emotions of either sides for him to properly make a clear estimation of.

 

Grasping onto the front of his shirt, the apple-shaped soul within his ribcage throbbed. Pulsing against the delicate bones that encaged it, confined deep in the frail body.

 

Where even were the few residents that existed here? Surely there'd have already been one or two in sight, yet he had not managed to come across even one. Feeding into his loneliness, he desperately wanted to see a trace of soul yet also not at the same time. No one would want him, of all people around. That and his absolute lack of trust and faith in others were other issues to top off.

 

Even so, Nightmare craved some companionship. Anyone, someone—

 

He was never the type to take isolation well, clinging desperately onto what little bit of attention was given to him. Usually provided by his dearest twin, which was no longer an option, leaving him all alone, devoid of physical contact or any form of socializing—out of fear, paranoid that the one he talks to might be in cohorts with Dream… No. No, that isn't his brother anymore, not anymore. No longer is the bright, beautiful sunshine that lights up his day here.

He, it—whatever he became, is a shell of his former being. Now overtaken by this filthy, disgusting, horrible entity that enraptures anyone and everyone he comes across. Luring them in with the sweetest of words, into a false sense of security. Stripping them of their free will and identity, bound to an inescapable lifetime of servitude to the S A V I O R.

This was painful.

“Starlight!” A soft and warm voice called out, accompanied by quick footsteps. The young guardian turning around to face the direction of the noise, only to be met with a blur of yellow and white. Startling him, unable to react at all as a pair of arms wrapped itself around his shoulders and pulled him straight into an embrace..

“S-Sunshine!--- Sheesh, be careful!” Grumbling under his breath, and leaning back slightly to cast a sharp, disapproving glare up at his twin. The brilliant ray of sunshine that beamed with sheer joy and excitement, didn’t even flinch nor react to the stare.

“I can’t help it, can you really blame me, Nighty? It’s been houurrsssss!” Whining, Dream tightened his grip over the other. Pulling him even closer, the coldness from Nightmare blending perfectly with Dream’s warmth. Lulling the temperature into a comfortable level for both of them

How dramatic. Rolling his violet eyelights, he reached up and gently caressed the other’s strangely-soft cheekbone. Earning a content, happy noise from him- which turned to a startled yelp once Nightmare abruptly pinched and tugged at the cheek. All the while, grinning mischievously

“I’m pretty sure it wasn’t even that long, I’d reckon it to be around… uh-.. around…—” Voice trailing off, it’s only now that realization dawned on him that he did indeed lost track of time, the sun was already beginning to set. Huh? What did he even do the entire time before coming back to the tree?

“See! This is exactly what I mean, you don’t even remember how long it’s been since we were last split up from this morning!” Huffing, the bright guardian’s warm golden eyelights fixated itself on the opposing guardian’s chilling violet ones. Like two jigsaw puzzle pieces, each had traces of each other’s colour within it, that only shows upon the close proximity and emotional connection they shared- a mutual agreement from their bond.

A dazzling purple swirl making it’s way within Dream’s eyes, blending and mixing until it formed a symbol similar to a star within the middle. Topped off with a thin line on the inner edge. Whereas Nightmare, were the same except with a mesmerizing yellow moon.

“At this point I’m beginning to question if you prefer spending time with others over me! Given how you keep forgetting about me during your time in the village” Dream whined. Much like a child throwing a fit, though to be expected granted their age. Tilting his head away from the pinch, then leaning forward to rest their foreheads against each other.

“You know for a fact that’s not true. I’d pick you over everyone else, anytime.” Expression softening, Nightmare slowly reached his arms around Dream’s torso. Now returning the embrace, it’s soothing..

“...I know, sorry. I can’t- I just can’t help it.” Closing both sockets, Dream’s voice came out in a whisper. Tone shaky out of slight.. Fear. That one emotion being so dauntingly obvious to Nightmare, the negative feeling catching his attention immediately. Though before he could even address it, his attention drifted.

“Nighty?”

“Yeah?”

“----”

The sudden jerk of his body shifting forward as if he’s about to fall, shocked Nightmare out of his thoughts. Returning back to reality as he hurried backwards. Eyelight shrinking to a singular pinprick the moment his vision registered where exactly he was heading. It’s the edge of the cliff, had he been one second late to realize what’s going on. It’d spell his doom, plunging deep into the darkness underneath the snowy forest where- even he couldn’t see what lies below. The distance being too far down for him to properly gauge but, one thing for certain?

Falling was a high chance of death.

Horrifying.

Yet- selfish as it were, part of his mind were saying otherwise. Ridiculing him for reacting in a panic, that death would’ve been a much better choice. Far better than dragging out this pathetic life of his.

Truth be told? He didn’t disagree with those impulsive, irrationalities creeping in from every dark corners of his mind that he tries- time, and time again, to push aside. There haven’t been proper reasons for him to persist in continuing afterall.

He no longer have a home to return to, his brother is now.. Whatever he is, a forsaken damned monstrosity that takes on the hollow shell of his beloved, precious sibling.. Said entity constantly hunting him down, for the sole purpose of dragging him back to where he supposedly belongs- other than that, the extended reasons? Nightmare didn’t know, why, why do THAT thing consistently search for him? Having naught but assumptions and wild guesses to lead him by.

That being, the magic in his possession, brought forth by the apples he consumed. All of which were perfectly infused within his soul entirely by now. The last bits of negativity that ensures the multiverse don’t fall into the ruins of sheer, blinding positivity.

Having heard the disgusting coo’s directed at him as he ran, that overbearingly sweet voice which he once loved.

“My dearest Starlight!~ Come back, you can’t run forever!” Ugh, yuck.

Much like a prey that falls into a spiderweb, stuck to the sticky strings that weighs down heavily. Preventing any form of escape. These train of adverse thoughts were detrimental to declining his mental state.

“...Why must I keep trying..?-”

It’s tiring.

Dropping down to his knees, the tendrils on his back slowly curled around himself like a blanket. Not serving any purpose other than small amount of comfort, the frigid wind blowing past him. Coldness nipping at his bones through the fabrics of his clothes. As the day passes, his desire to be held– to be close with someone, cradled within their arms comfortably- increasingly got unbearable. Truly, desperately sought for even the faintest shred of hope yet were far too afraid to reach out for any.

“Why do I even bother?”

Not once have he ever felt safe, danger lurks everywhere. What might seem safe, could turn out to be the complete opposite.

He knew that from experience.

Closing his eyes and allowing darkness to consume the blurry vision he has, Nightmare could feel his mind gradually blanking out. Essentially halting any form of thoughts that tried to emerge, the despair invoked from the hopeless situation he’s been thrown into- slowly showing itself from how much of a toll it took on his near-unstable head. The weight of it all pressed down heavily, rendering everything meaningless.

One debilitating day after another, having zero purpose in life than to keep moving forward, run, scamper like an escapee..

“I don’t want to do this anymore.”

Perhaps, a long rest would be okay. A nice, lengthy nap- to escape from the burdens of reality.

An eternal.. Slumber.

Or so, that would have been his thoughts. If not for a sudden influx of negativity filling his senses. It was the first time in such a long period that he felt something this intensely. Every fiber of his being invaded by the surge in magic. Unexpected but not unwelcomed, his soul pulsing quicker, and quicker, greedily drawing in the negativity to sustain itself- the sensation was overwhelming, a heady mix of power and confusion. Causing him to reel back from the sheer dizziness, unaccustomed to being this ‘full’. A huge contrast to the empty hunger he had grown used to.

Help

Who was it?

Godithurtspleasemakeitstop

Who even are you?

Someoneanyonepleasehelpme

The fuzzy voice rang within his skull, instinctively holding both hands over the sides of his head in an attempt to ‘block out’ the noises. Proving to be plenty useless as that did nothing to lessen the invading sound that echoed from seemingly nowhere.

Whoever, or whatever, in this level of distress- had called out to him. Specifically him, strange.. Far beyond that, to the point it’s eerily unsettling.. Why? This has never happened before, so why? Why now, of all times when he was so close to giving up entirely? The timing was uncanny, almost as if the universe had conspired to keep him hanging on by a thread. Force something into his life which he wanted so dearly, right at the moment when he nearly let go. On the verge of embracing darkness.

Shouldn’t this desperate cry for help be heard by Dream instead, the very guardian beloved and adored by all. The literal beacon of light that shines down and grace the surrounding that he steps on. Yet, right now, the plea wasn’t directed to Dream. It was him, compelling Nightmare to respond. For the despondent cries, called out to him. So loud, too.. loud.

..Swallowing back a gulp of air, despite not needing to breathe. Wait..

If.. just maybe, if he can’t help himself out of this endless hell that forces him to be on the run daily. Maybe… just potentially, could he instead help this one desperate soul?

That abrupt idea was far-fetched and seemed almost stupid. Especially considering how badly he was struggling, how could he even fathom the concept of saving someone else- to possibly pull them out of the darkness, be their.. moon, within the darkened sky. Light up a new path, to provide them with hope, or a reason to keep going. Turn their life around.

At least, before the impulsive ideals gets deeply rooted within his mind, before he gave in and committed to the final decision of ending it all. Potentially, this one attempted act of compassion could allow him the slim opportunity to finally feel useful, helpful even if for just a brief moment. Just this one time.

This might be worth it, right? Though he doesn’t have any actual expectations, however, something within the back of his mind was screaming at him not to ignore the plea for help– that he’d deeply regret it if he turns his back on this very rare chance, it’s a once-in-a-lifetime situation. Or, ironically enough, once in a blue moon.

While Nightmare weren’t the greatest at assisting someone out of a dark place, as proven by his own predicament. Nor can he claim to be a bright and wonderful as his twin, but, surely he’s capable of at least.. Lending just one person a hand. It’s only ONE person. There likely wouldn’t be a second chance like this granted.

At the same time, selfish as it were. He hoped, prayed internally that this time. Perhaps, he could have a lasting companion. No matter the duration, he’s recovered enough to muster some ounce of magic to utilize to his advantage afterall. That all aside? It was unfair, really. Dream, he had others by his side. Not only that, but a selective few that were closer to him than most others. So.. if THAT thing masquerading as his brother. The guardian of positivity, could gather a group of his own. Why can’t Nightmare?

Why can’t he do the same? To have one, or two- if lucky enough, assuming the ones he come across that cries for help.. Is.. trustworthy. Unlikely, that’s for certain. Those that were this far tainted to the point that they’re able to fill him to the brim, definitely have issues. A extreme and severe issue, does it matter? Perhaps, he’ll be careful. That’s for sure.

There won’t be a second time where he lets down his guard. 

Nonetheless, practically being offered a dish, laid out perfectly on a table which he could either, accept or refuse.

He’d be a fool to not take it.

Without needing to reconsider twice, and also pushed on by the consistent urges repeating in the back of his mind. He steeled himself for the possibilities of failing, knowing full well it wasn’t going to be a guaranteed success.

When was the last time Nightmare actually communicated with someone anyways? Hell if he know. Although, with his capability to sense one’s emotions and his keen observation. Combining it both and playing things safely, calculating every single possibilities, could have a tiny glimpse of hope for the situation to turn out favorably.

Greedy as it is, the flame that died out, reignited itself again. If he couldn’t save his own twin, he can try harder to save this person. Whoever they are, by any means possible.

No matter the cost.

There’s nothing for Nightmare to lose at the end of the day.

Getting up onto his feet, with his hands pushing against the ground whilst the tendrils shifted to it’s original position behind his back. Nightmare raised a hand out infront of him to conjure a purple vortex of magic, swirling luminously and casting a radiant shine within the surrounding. Surprising even himself, not expecting to have that much energy, Nor enough magic within his reserve to pull off something like that, portals were usually so much smaller and less.. Flashy. This is gonna be an issue he has to deal with later on, the fluctuation in negativity had given him a huge boost that he wasn’t accustomed to.

Unexpected, but greatly appreciated. At the same time, concerningly shuddersome. Mildly dreading the hell that he’d witness, especially one capable of providing this heavy amount of negativity. None of the other horrific sights engraved within his mind supplied this much.

“Alright, you can do this. Night.” Quietly encouraging himself, he took a step forward and entered the gateway he manifested. It fading and closing with a burst of magic after he’s fully through to the other side.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I started doing sex work while still living with my mom?

Warning for sexual mentions(nothing heavily explicit though)

I (18F) can't get a typical job like working in customer service or physical labor because of a mix of reasons. I'm both physically and mentally disabled, for one. I have chronic pain & chronic fatigue so extensive physical labor or any job that requires being up for a long time is out of the question for me, as it would cause me a lot of pain and put me at risk for collapsing or falling asleep due to exhaustion. I also have heavy social anxiety and sensory issues, and despite being in therapy since I was around 11, this hasn't gone away. I still have problems with stuttering when talking to people I don't know, and feel on the verge of panic the entire time. I also can't handle loud noises well- I carry around a pair of headphones constantly but that does mess with my hearing so I couldn't really use those in a customer service focused environment. I'm a full time student as well, and will be for several more years, as I'm going straight into college out of high school. On top of all that, I can't drive yet, as the process was delayed due to concerns that my health issues would make me a hazard on the road, so I won't have my full license until late this year.

I've tried looking for other job types before, but nothing I've been able to find works. I've tried doing art, but it's not easy to get people to actually commission you- I've only gotten 1 so far and I've had commissions open for almost half a year. I've tried content creation but have yet to build a platform big enough to make money from it. I've looked for online focused jobs such as creating captions or proof-reading others work but realized very quickly I'm not equipped/qualified for that job due to my problems with processing audio correctly, and my problems reading and writing correctly first try- I often have to re-read things many times over and re-type things at least once to get it at all correct, as words and letters get mixed up in my brain sometimes or I just accidentally skip over entire words or even sentences. And even then I sometimes still get it wrong. So I'm a pretty slow worker with things like reading, and something that requires listening to something and then writing what was said took so long it wouldn't meet the time requirements a lot of places are looking for in workers for that (that I've seen).

So the only idea I have left for making money so I at least have something to help pay for college and to go towards me being able to move out someday is some sort of sex work. I'm not planning on doing anything super risky, like meeting up with real people or anything that would show my face. So I wouldn't be worried about this bothering my mom since she's not really sex negative or strictly against sex workers or anything if it wasn't for one thing. I'm not sure if this will work either. I have a lot of acne problems all over, and problems with picking at my skin that leave scratch marks in a lot of places. And I'm not sure anyone would be willing to pay to look at that. It's not something that bothers me on an individual level, it's just a part of me, but that doesn't really change what other people do or don't find attractive. So it just kind of feels disrespectful to be selling that kind of thing in my mothers house if it's not even going to be significant enough for it to matter financially. And, of course, there's always the risk my mom could see it, and I worry it would upset her to see her daughter selling that kind of thing. But I don't see other options left for how I could make enough money to not end up drowning in student loans down the line, or end up living with my mom for many years into adulthood- which wouldn't be fair to her since she's not financially well off either. I don't plan for it to be a permanent job, just something to help me through my college years till I can start working in the field for what I'm getting a degree in or until my issues get well enough I can work a more typical job.

WIBTA?

What are these acronyms?

[gatheringbones]

[“Asked which side he supported, one peasant from a village close to Saigon told a Front cadre in 1963: “I do not know, for I follow the will of Heaven. If I do what you say, then the Diem side will arrest me; if I say things against you, then you will arrest me, so I would rather carry both burdens on my shoulders and stand in the middle.” Caught between two competing regimes, the peasant did not assert his right to decide between them, rather he asked himself where his duty lay. Which regime had the power to claim his loyalty? Which would be the most likely to restore peace and harmony to his world? His decision might be based on personal preference (a government that considered the wishes of the people would be more likely to restore peace on a permanent basis). But he had, nonetheless, to make an objective analysis of the situation and take his gamble, for his first loyalty lay neither with the Diem regime nor the NLF but with the will of Heaven that controlled them both. At certain periods attentisme was the most moral and the most practical course.

As a warning to Westerners on the difficulties of understanding the twentieth-century conflict in Vietnam, Paul Mus told an ancient Chinese legend that is well known to the Vietnamese. There was trouble in the state of Lu, and the reigning monarch called in Confucius to ask for his help. When he arrived at the court, the Master went to a public place and took a seat in the correct way, facing south, and all the trouble disappeared.

The works of Vo Nguyen Giap are but addenda to this legend, for the legend is the paradigm of revolution in Vietnam. To the Vietnamese it is clear from the story that Confucius was not taking an existential or exemplary position, he was actually changing the situation. Possessed of neither godlike nor prophetic authority, he moved an entire kingdom by virtue of his sensitivity to the will of Heaven as reflected in the “eyes and ears of the people.” As executor for the people, he clarified their wishes and signaled the coming — or the return — of the Way that would bring harmony to the kingdom. For the Hoa Hao and the Cao Dai, the traditionalist sects of the south that in the twentieth century still believed in this magical “sympathy” of heaven and earth, political change did not depend entirely on human effort. Even the leaders of the sects believed that if they, like Confucius, had taken “the correct position,” the position that accorded with the will of Heaven, all Vietnamese would eventually adopt the same Way, the same political system that they had come to.

Here, within the old spiritualist language, lies a clue as to why the Vietnamese Communists held their military commanders in strict subordination to the political cadres. Within the domestic conflict military victories were not only less important than political victories, but they were strictly meaningless except as reflections of the political realities. For the Communists, as for all the other political groups, the vehicle of political change was not the war, the pitch of force against force, but the struggle, the attempt to make manifest that their Way was the only true or “natural” one for all Vietnamese. Its aim was to demonstrate that, in the old language, the Mandate of Heaven had changed and the new order had already replaced the old in all but title.

When Ho Chi Minh entered Hanoi in August 1945, he made much the same kind of gesture as Confucius had made in facing south when he said (and the wording is significant, for he was using a language of both East and West), “We, members of the Provisional Government of the Democratic Republic of Viet-Nam solemnly declare to the world that Viet-Nam has the right to be a free and independent country — and in fact it is so already. The entire Vietnamese people are determined to mobilize all their physical and mental strength, to sacrifice their lives and property in order to safeguard their independence and liberty.” His claims were far from “true” at the time, but they constituted the truth in potential — if he, like Confucius, had taken the “correct position.” For the Confucians, of course, the “correct position” was that which accorded with the will of Heaven and the practice of the sacred ancestors. For Ho Chi Minh the “correct position” was that which accorded with the laws of history and the present and future judgment of the Vietnamese people.”]

frances fitzgerald, from fire in the lake: the vietnamese and the americans in vietnam, 1972

[astrophileous]

Love Bugs (Pt. 03)

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Female Reader

Synopsis: You and Derek Morgan have an arrangement. At work, your relationship is strictly business. Under the sheets, it's all about pleasure. Nothing more, nothing less. Until, of course, your feelings start to get involved. Your situation is complicated enough without the unexpexted predicament that suddenly befalls upon you. But with a maniac serial killer on the loose, will you ever get the chance to make everything right?

Warning(s): pregnancy, brief talk of abortion, stalker behavior, kidnapping, curse words (this shouldn't even warrant a warning at this point lol) pls lmk if I miss anything

Word Count: 2000-ish

Author's Note: told ya the pt 3 would be here sooner than you'd expect! as always, LIKE+COMMENT+REBLOG cause these give me the motivation I need to finish the parts sooner and maybe upload more frequently 👀

Love Bugs Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

You always took pride in your ability to predict things correctly. It was one of the best traits that made you a great profiler.

Not this time, though.

This time, your ability to conjure correct predictions just seemed like a big joke that the universe purposefully played out to torture your ass.

The ringtone of your phone's incoming call snapped you back to reality. Without looking at the caller ID, you pressed the green button and brought the device to your ear.

"(Y/L/N) speaking."

"Hey, Beets. Where are you?" came the voice of one Penelope Garcia. "Hotch is looking for you. Are you coming in today?"

"Huh? Yeah, I'm coming in. Sorry, it was an emergency. Tell the others I'll be there shortly."

After ending the call, you rushed through the rest of your morning routine as quickly as possible. The three opened boxes on the bathroom sink were thrown into the garbage can in no time. Their contents sitting on the counter, however, required you to pause and contemplate what course of actions you would want to do to deal with the problem at hand.

Upon realizing that this was not the kind of dilemma you could solve in a matter of minutes, you decided to fuck it before dumping the items into the same garbage can.

The three tests with two little pink lines would have to wait.

You had a serial murder case to solve.

If five months ago someone had told you that you'd someday end up carrying the child of Derek Morgan, you would have ordered a psychological evaluation for them right then and there.

The past few days had been a catastrophic turmoil. At first, the irrational anger had devoured you whole. You were this close to calling the company who produced your pills for claiming that they had 99% chance of preventing exactly the kind of mess you were going through from happening. Granted, they had put the minus 1% up there to save face in case anything like this were to ever happen. But what were the chances of you being one of the outliers in that small percentage?

Apparently, a pretty good one.

Then, the panic quickly had taken control and messed up with your head. The endless anxiety of having to bring a child into such a cruel world and bearing the responsibility of raising it, while having witnessed what kind of evil lurked underneath its facade, almost threw you to the brink of insanity. During those moments of fear, you had even entertained the idea of possibly terminating the pregnancy, even going as far as calling the nearest facility to question more about the procedure.

But once the fog had cleared, and you were able to start thinking rationally again, realization soon dawned upon you.

You wanted to keep the baby.

In some curious plot twist, you discovered that the idea of having this baby wasn't as scary as the knowledge of having to face Derek and inform him of the news.

And that was exactly what had been occupying your entire mind: how to break the news to Derek.

You barely even had the guts to talk to him directly anymore. Yet somehow, you had to find a way to tell him that you were pregnant, right to his face, as if you were bringing the news of a new movie that had just premiered in your nearest local theater.

How the hell were you ever going to do that?

And it wasn't like you were worried that Derek wouldn't be supportive about your decision to keep the baby. Even if he was unsupportive, there was nothing he could do to persuade you to change your mind. But Derek--sweet and kindhearted Derek--would never do such a thing. Having lost his father at a very young age himself, there was no way anyone could keep him from taking care of his child, no matter how they came to be in this world.

So, before you could gather your thoughts--and yourself--you had decided to put off telling Derek about your current condition.

"Still nothing, Garcia?" Hotch asked from his place in front of the board.

"I'm so sorry, sir. I've tried everything, but there was nothing else I could uncover from that tape."

The rest of the team was seated around the round table. It had been two weeks since the BAU received the video tape from the UnSub, and Garcia had finally revealed that there was nothing more to be analyzed from the tape despite having only obtained insignificant details out of it.

It also didn't help that the UnSub had been lying dormant since that video was delivered.

"It just doesn't make sense," Rossi said frustratedly. "Why would he stop now? What is he waiting for? This guy gets off on attention. Stopping his theatrics at a time like this doesn't fit his profile at all."

"He must be looking to get his attention from somewhere else," Derek chimed in.

"Yeah, but the question is where?" Reid interjected.

"And what is he planning to do to make sure he gets it?" Hotch let out a long sigh before pinching the bridge of his nose. "Alright, we're not going to stop just because this guy has. Emily, JJ, try interviewing the victims' families, friends, and the witnesses again. See if they suddenly have something useful for us. Morgan and Rossi, follow up on our other leads. Reid--"

"The case files. I know." Reid nodded.

"Right. And (Y/L/N)--" Hotch pinned his stare towards you, "--I need to talk to you. Thank you, everyone. Dismissed."

"Are you in trouble?" Emily leaned in as the rest of the team scattered out of the room.

"Not as far as I know," you whispered.

As you walked the path to Hotch's office, your mind began searching for the possibilities behind Hotch's sudden request to see you privately. You didn't get to guess for too long, though, as you finally arrived in front of his door almost in no time at all.

"Come on in, Agent. Close the door behind you," he commanded. You turned around to nudge the door closed. "Have a seat."

You didn't spend any time beating around the bush once you had sat down.

"Can I ask what this is about?"

"Shouldn't I be the one asking you that?" Hotch looked at you with a raised eyebrow. "I heard you requested a half day off today."

"I, uh... yes. Yes, I did. Is that why I'm here?"

"No. That is not why you're here." Hotch leaned back against his seat. "You've been distracted lately. You're coming late to work, and you can't seem to focus when you're around."

"I-I'm sorry, sir. It won't happen again."

"You should know that I've received concerns about you from the other members of the team."

What?

"Was it JJ?" you asked. "Because if this is about what happened in the bathroom--"

"It was Garcia, actually."

"Oh."

Hotch looked at you curiously. "What happened with JJ in the bathroom?"

"Nothing, sir. It was nothing."

The next few seconds were drowned in silence. The ticking clock on Hotch's desk became the only sound echoing against the walls. Hotch was examining you as if you were a suspect in the interrogation room, and with how much scrutiny was sizzling inside those eyes, you might as well have been.

"They're not the only ones concerned about you, (Y/L/N)," he spoke carefully. "I've also noticed that you haven't been yourself lately. You seem tired all the time. You look paler every single day." Hotch readjusted his tie before continuing, "I know that what we do here isn't easy. This job, it's not for everyone. Sometimes our limits are much smaller than what we thought it would be, and that's okay. If you'd like to put in a request for a transfer, I'm sure I will be able--"

"Sir," you stopped him before he could go on any further. "I don't want to transfer. I like working here."

"Just because you like working somewhere, it doesn't mean--"

"Hotch," you cut him off once more. "I'm pregnant."

The priceless look on Hotch's face at the sudden drop of your announcement would forever be ingrained in your brain.

"What?"

"I found out two weeks ago." You smiled tentatively. "I've been having severe morning sickness, and my appetite has also not been the best. Probably why I look tired all the time. I didn't mean to let my condition affect my work, I'm sorry."

"No, no. That's... wow. You're pregnant." Hotch started to nod as if the news was just beginning to fully settle upon him. "Congratulations, Agent. That's wonderful news. You are... happy, right?"

You smiled at his considerate question. "I am very much. Yes."

"How far along are you?"

"My guess is eight to ten weeks. I'm not so sure. Today is my first ultrasound, hence why I requested for half a day."

And then, by some unknown piece of miracle, Aaron Hotchner started to laugh. A real, actual laugh that had both of his eyes wrinkling in the corners. You didn't even know that he could do that without Jack around.

"When I called you in here earlier, this isn't exactly how I pictured the conversation would go," he admitted.

"Neither did I."

"Well--" He cleared his throat, "--there's, of course, a few things we need to go over in rumination of your current condition, but I'm sure we can manage that some other time."

"Of course, sir."

"And (Y/L/N)?" You stared at him expectantly. "You can come to me if you ever need anything. You know that, right?"

The sincerity in Hotch's declaration nearly brought you to tears. You immediately tried to blink back the emotions before you could make a mess of yourself in front of your boss.

"Of course, Hotch. Thank you."

You got up from the chair and began walking towards the door. Before your fingers could touch the handle, you decided to turn around once more.

"Hotch?"

"Yes?"

"I would appreciate it if we kept this between us for now."

"Of course, Agent." He nodded. "You have my word."

And with that, you exited Hotch's room before heading back straight to your desk.

A few hours later, you were finally returning home after attending the doctor appointment.

Confirming your earlier prediction, the doctor had put the estimated age of your fetus at around ten weeks. According to the internet, your baby was not larger than the size of a mere apricot. It was nothing more than a tiny blob in the sonogram image, but the sight of it alone somehow made you want to break down in tears.

Before you could turn into a sobbing ball of mess, you decided to put the picture right on the front of your fridge.

"Alright, I think that's--"

Thud.

Your head instinctively whipped around at the mysterious sound.

Without wasting another second, your hand immediately reached for the gun tucked safely in your holster. The tiny footsteps you took sounded deafening in the silence of your apartment. You first checked the bathroom, finding it empty with nothing out of the ordinary. The two bedrooms were pretty much the same. Quiet and a little messy just the way that you had left them that morning.

Sighing, you brushed off your paranoia as a result of your overactive hormons and creeping exhaustion.

When you reemerged from taking a shower nearly an hour later, the feeling of dread once again washed over your entire being.

At first glance, not a single thing in the apartment seemed to be out of place. But somehow, the feeling of another presence in the room was indisputable. Your wet feet slowly moved along the floor, careful as to not make as much sound as possible.

Once you arrived in the kitchen, you took in your surrounding, making sure that things really were staying in the places they should have been in.

You were about to sigh in relief until you saw it.

The sonogram image you previously had glued to the fridge.

It was now lying on the floor.

Before you could have a chance to grab the nearest weapon, the door to the second bedroom behind you suddenly began to creak.

"Boo."

That was the last thing you remembered before everything went dark.

[hilsonapologist]

the books take great pains to frame farrier and torrinde as foils and irreconcilable opposites that represent the great nature vs nurture debate and only one can win or whatever and thats fine it makes sense within the context of the story but what the text oddly seems to not want to consider is that they might be one and the same. obviously their goal is the same but functionally there is almost no discernible difference between their methods either

tain shir and baru and all the other young girls farrier has tried to mould were just his version of the clarified. torrinde himself wasnt able to obtain his desired subjects thorough "breeding" alone, requiring such extensive conditioning to create the clarified that it was arguably more extreme than farrier's way of doing the same thing via the school system. and they both see this conditioning as static, unmoving once its taken root- unable to fathom that time and experience can change behaviour and cognition.

one major goal of the books in my opinion, and which it does achieve, is to show that neither torrinde or farrier are actually right. this is kinda obvious; they're both raging racists. they both believe in racial hierarchies based on "desirable" and "undesirable" racial traits- and they are indeed always considered racial traits, regardless of whether they attribute the source to the flesh or the mind. it is seen as a flaw of an entire race which can only be removed by removing the culture in which that race lives.

both of them see the family as a weapon of enforcement. like, both torrinde's eugenics and farrier's conditioning can only be successful if the people created by them then go on to partake in strictly dictated "hygienic" family structures and raise their children to emulate the same behaviours as them. even if torrinde is proven right, farrier's schools would still need to exist to begin inducing desirable characteristics that can then be bred down to future generations. even if farrier is right, his method would require a genetic family system to maintain the strength of his conditioning.

the fact that they're both expected to necessarily prove their ideology in a way that is executable on a large scale betrays the fact that this supposed race is just a ruse. maybe torrinde and farrier don't even realise that the real goal is in all likelihood to combine their methods to create a permanent underclass of people for the empire to generate profit from without being too expensive to keep in control- the entire thing is just a veneer for an underlying imperialist plot.

it wouldn't even prove whose hypothesis was correct- neither of them is following the experimental method after all, despite the concept of trial and control groups existing in the world of the story. it would prove simply who was able to enforce their oppressive ideology more successfully and efficiently while hiding or minimising the "failures".