#i fear both of us were high when we got the email and were just staring at it like huh hello huh

[trans-axolotl]

oh i will say something very exciting that @bioethicists and me found out today is that the psych abolition workshop that we proposed for the anarchist health conference got accepted!!!! so now we just actually have to create all the materials for that LMAO but i'm so excited to present about psych abolition and anticarceral suicide support to that audience :)

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Dean Obeidallah at The Dean's Report:

Donald Trump doesn’t care that his lie accusing Haitian immigrants in Springfield, Ohio of eating people’s pets is causing a spike in anti-immigrant hate incidents in the area or was the reason for a bomb threats Thursday morning targeting the local government and local schools on Friday. It also doesn’t matter if you fact check Trump on this BS claim. This is not about the truth. Nobody—I mean nobody—understands what animates, radicalizes and incites his base to vote, make threats and commit violence more than Trump. That is why he is targeting both Black people and immigrants with his lies. This is racism for a purpose.  He gets that with one lie, he is targeting two communities that MAGA hates: Blacks and immigrants.  

As we all recall, Trump--as President--slammed the idea of accepting more immigrants from Haiti and Africa calling them “shithole countries.” Instead, Trump stated he wanted more people coming in from places like Norway aka white people. Trump’s base loved that. That is why during the debate Tuesday, Trump repeatedly fear-mongered about non-white people coming over the border, declaring, “What they have done to our country by allowing these millions and millions of people to come into our country.” He then added the now infamous line, “In Springfield, they're eating the dogs…they're eating the cats. They're eating the pets of the people that live there.”

ABC News co-moderator David Muir instantly fact checked Trump saying “ABC News did reach out to the city manager there. He told us there have been no credible reports�� of any animals being treated that way by immigrants. But Trump remained defiant, saying, “But the people on television say their dog was eaten by the people that went there.” When Muir factchecked Trump again, he then offered this ominous line, “We'll find out.”  Trump’s lie at the debate about Haitian immigrants was something his base has been worked up about for days—as Trump knows. The first prominent right winger to amplify the lie was Trump’s close ally Charlie Kirk—who has a history of making racist comments about Blacks--posting just days before the debate on Twitter that “residents of Springfield, OH are reporting that Haitians are eating their family pets.” His post was viewed more than 4 million times.

Trump’s son, Donald Jr. then amplified the lie on social media that Black migrants were kidnapping and eating people’s cats and dogs. Next Elon Musk -the owner of Twitter and vocal Trump backer--did the same. That got the attention of the Trump campaign.  If the MAGA base believes/loves the claim Black immigrants are such savages that they are eating people’s pets, they were going to join.  That is why on Monday, Trump’s running mate JD Vance claimed in his post viewed more than 10 million times that “reports now show people have had their pets abducted and eaten by people who shouldn’t be in this country.” A short time later on Monday, as the NY Times reported, the Trump campaign did a massive email blast to their supporters quoting the lie about the Black immigrants.

[...] In reality, Springfield residents have overall been welcoming to the Haitian immigrants to their community over the past four years.  Jamie McGregor the head of McGregor Metal, a family-owned business in Springfield, told The New York Times how it was lacking workers after it had invested to increase production before "the Haitians were there to fill those positions." Joe Ruck, a co-owner of Champion City Cuts Barber Shop, told USA Today that Haitian immigrants are working the jobs no one else wanted. But Trump’s lies have embolden the haters in Springfield. As Newsweek documented, there has now been a surge in vile comments directed online and in person against Springfield’s Haitian community. A 19-year-old, who graduated from Springfield High School and now works at an Amazon warehouse said he has been called a "dirty Haitian" and an "illegal."   

[...] Despite many officials warning that Trump’s lie will lead to violence against the Haitian community or Blacks in general, he refuses to stop. On Thursday night in the midst of this backlash and after the bomb threats, Trump again repeated the lie to his supporters at a rally in Arizona, telling them “20,000 illegal Haitian immigrants have descended on a town of 58,000 people, destroying their way of life.” (The Haitians in Springfield are in the US legally.) The convicted felon added the lie that these migrants are “walking off with their pets.” And earlier on Thursday, Trump posted five digitally doctored photos on social media of himself saving pets from migrants—including the racist image at the top of this article where Trump is saving a white cat from angry Black people.

Dean Obeidallah’s column on the Springfield Cat-Eating Hoax is spot-on. Donald Trump, JD Vance, and the right-wing media’s racist and xenophobic scapegoating of Haitian migrants has led to bomb threats and a rise in anti-immigrant hatred in Springfield, Ohio.

[katiesplaypen]

LITTLE BIG SIS (CHAPTER 18)

Half hunched over, Sophie became nauseous with shame of the contents filling the back of her Huggies. She could tell by the firmness of her accident that there must be a bulge in the seat of her pants, and she was praying that any classmate standing behind her would not notice. She became even more self conscious thinking about it they had actually seen the bulge appear.

Normally her face would go red from embarrassment like this, but she was so terrified by the predicament that her face went flush instead. Thankfully for her, her potential boyfriend was deep into the microscope at the moment and couldn’t see the change in her demeanor or the color drain from her face. She now had no choice but to ask for the restroom, even if that seemed like telling Jake she had bodily functions.

“Hey, Jake. I’ll be right back.” She said to her lab partner.

He looked up slightly from the microscope.

“Okay. Sure.”

Sophie approached Mrs. Ellisons desk and nervously asked for permission to go to the bathroom. The teacher could sense this was an emergency for the girl. She had seen desperate students many times. Especially girls who were too ashamed to admit they need the toilet. However, given Sophie’s current posture and the email she received from the nurse’s office earlier, she had a feeling Sophie’s situation was a bit different. She didn’t need the toilet. She needed a changing.

In all actuality, she needed both. She needed out of her wet, poopy pull-up and she needed to relieve her currently full bladder. Leaving the classroom and walking very uncomfortable down the hall, Sophie began to fear she wasn’t going to make it. The closer she got to the girls room, the more her urine wanted to escape her body. She started sprinting to the bathroom and when she ran in she was greeted by a face she did not want to see.

“Wow, slow down there, kiddo.” Said the girl standing in front of the mirror, checking her hair.”

“Megan?” Sophie said, caught off guard.

“What’s a matter, Soph? Gotta go potty? At least you’re trying to make it this time.”

Sophie was too desperate to think of any comeback.

“But you shouldn’t run, sweetheart.” Megan kept teasing. “You could trip and fall. Then you would have a bloody nose AND wet pants.”

“Just leave me alone, Megan.” Sophie said, pushing the girl to the side and rushing to a stall as she began to undo her overalls before even opening the stall door. Suddenly, a look of panic washed over Sophie’s face as she struggled to get her buttons to move. They were stuck.

Megan watched in amusement as her former friend struggled with her straps while simultaneously doing the potty dance.

“Look at you all fidgety.” Megan said with an ear to ear grin. “You must really have a baby bladder, huh? And you can’t even get your pants undone. Who let a little girl like you into high school?”

“This isn’t funny Megan!” Sophie yelled between her teeth as she squirmed in desperation trying to get her overalls free. The toilet I’m sight just made things worse.

“Oh, I’m sorry. You’re right. We are friends after all. Do you want my help?”

Sophie did not want Megan’s help, but she needed it.

“Yes, please.” She said on the verge of tears.

“Sure thing.” Megan said cheerfully as she walked to the sink and turned on the faucet.

“What are you doing?” Sophie cried with her legs crossed.

“I’m helping.” Megan said. “You have to pee. I’m helping you pee. Just think of waterfalls and swimming pools, running rivers. Think of ice cold lemonade.”

“Stop it, Megan!” Sophie demanded. “Please help me get these off!”

“Oh, I don’t think so BABY GIRL.” Megan responded. “If a 16 year old isn’t capable of undoing her pants to use the bathroom, then she deserves to pee in them like a little toddler. So, just do it, pants-wetter.”

“I’m not a pants-wetter!” Sophie said one hand buried into her crotch and the other desperately trying to get her strap apart.

“Bedwetter, pants-wetter, what’s the difference?” Megan retorted. “You can’t control your bladder. It doesn’t matter if it’s day or night. A baby’s a baby.”

“I’m not a baby!” Sophie cried once more.

“Oh, I think you are.” Megan said, leaning into Sophie. “Tickle, tickle, tickle.” Megan began wiggle her fingers along Sophie’s sides, making her muscles spasm. “Cootchie, cootchie, coo.” She continued.

It was too much for Sophie. In that moment her bladder gave out. All at once her urine began to stream into her pants, and the pull-up she was wearing could not hold one more drop. A dark patch began to appear on the leg of her overalls right below the diapers leg hole. Megan stepped back when she heard the sound of liquid hitting fabric. She smiled and laughed as he watched Sophie soak her pants for the second time that day. Then she noticed how the pattern of pee was forming. Something didn’t look right.

“Oh my god! Are you wearing a diaper!?”

[doueverwonder]

Crush

Notes: IndChu? In our spy au? more likely than you think!

part of the spy au by @the-heaminator <3

ao3 link here: or under cut if you want to stay on tumblr!

Ivan and Arthur sat through one of the monthly meetings where they had to come to HQ with everything they had observed the last months, it was also time to show the highlight reel of cute pictures of Eleanor. Though that was usually last on the agenda. It could be worse really, the weekly ones were by phone so they didn’t have to travel so far every week; their lives were hectic enough as is, who knew four kids could have so many after school and weekend activities. 

Yoa droned on about them finding time to check somewhere on the other side of town for some secret drop off location they thought Lukawitz might be using. All three seemed relieved when there was a knock on the door; Yoa telling whoever it was to come in. His secretary appeared rattling on about some paperwork that needed to be signed and then sent to another branch of government. The agency sat on a fine line, though technically they were under the UN, for international clearance reasons, they worked most closely with the UK government, most of their agents being based there. 

“Thank you.” Yoa looked over the paperwork, pretty routine things that just needed to be signed off on. Reports to the MI5 to make sure the agency wasn’t doing anything that could put Britain in the middle of anything too big. One overall report was written every six months, specific instances being investigated as needed. “I’ll take it to Devi myself” 

This made Ivan and Arthur both stop, Yoa was high up, higher than even either of them. He didn’t take such routine reports directly to people. They were people to do that for him, tons of them. There were only two reasons for Yoa hand delivering them; something bigger was going on, or there was someone he needed–or wanted–to talk to. 

“Why are you taking it?” Ivan voiced it before Arthur could, 

“Waste of time isn’t it?” Arthur choroused, honestly both of them just wanted to avoid going back to the conversation at hand. It was dull and could be an email just as easily. 

“No, not really, I don’t have much-” 

The door opened again, Erzsébet standing there as if she had been listening the whole time: “He wants to see a certain Mr. Neeraj Devi,” before Arthur and Ivan could ask who that was Erzsí filled in the blanks, “He’s like the MI5 counterpart of Yoa, just way more interesting and hotter.” she sat down in the last empty chair, “Yoa has got a crush on him” 

Yoa sighed, Ii’m almost fifty years old. I don't have crushes.” he looked at the pile of paperwork to be signed, “and don’t you have work to do, Dr. Héderváry?” 

“Oooo titles, am I in trouble?” Despite the feigned fear in her voice she didn’t leave the room, or even get up from the chair. If anything she made herself more comfortable. 

“Who is Neeraj Devi?” Arthur voiced again louder, now wanting to know more about the person that had taken the sights of the ever single Wang Yoa. 

Erzsébet opened her mouth but was cut off, by her now very annoyed boss. “He’s my counterpart at MI5, in charge of a department like ours. I enjoy talking to him so I take the papers personally” 

She covered her mouth blocking from Yoa mouthing to Ivan and Arthur “and he has a crush on him” 

“I saw that Erzsébet” he sighed, scribbling something onto the paper, “You can go now. I’ll send you the rest of the notes” 

“No no” Ivan leaned back in his chair, though everyone in the room winced a bit at the creak it made under his weight. “I want to hear more about him” 

“It’s nothing” Yoa sounded more defensive the more they asked. “Even if I was interested in him it’s not like we could” 

“You can actually.” Erzsébet had done a lot of research into the rules on dating people outside of the agency, sure she was breaking it anyway with Roderich but at least she knew which rules she was breaking. “If they work for a government institute that has general knowledge of the agency it’s allowed.” 

Yoa grumbled something as she continued on saying he was just being a coward who instead of asking him out was making excuses to do errands below his pay grade to see him. 

“And if you were to have a crush on him,” 

“Adults don’t have crushes” 

Arthur rolled his eyes heavily, “Fine, you were to have interest in him. How would you ask him out?” 

“This isn’t–”

“C’monnnnn” Erzsí whined, “Humor us” 

“I don’t know, probably just for a few drinks, maybe at the horse and guardsmen” Despite how casual he tried to make it sound this answer had clearly been thought about. Points towards Erzsébet’s insistence he had a crush. 

“See! All worked out,” she was out of her chair and half pulling Yoa out of his chair, “Now take him those reports, and ask him if he would like to go out tonight! That’s an order” 

He huffed, trying to ignore Ivan and Arthur both attempting to hold in their laughter at the situation; “I hold seniority” 

“Actually as of section 18, clause B since I have a doctorate if we’re in my area of expertise I hold seniority over all of you.” 

“Isn’t your degree in International relations?” 

“Political theory, International relations, human rights, and matchmaking” She said it very flatly as if she were completely serious about the last bit, Ivan snorted though thoroughly tickled by the joke. Arthur shook his head trying to comprehend how much schooling he remembered Erzsí telling him she had done, not to mention how she brushed it off even to the point of asking for people to call her Miss Erzsí over Dr. Héderváry (except for if she didn’t like you; then God help you if you don’t call her Dr. Héderváry). 

Yoa huffed, “I have to take him the reports either way…” he watched Erzsí who had now taken to pouting to get him to do what she wanted. “And i suppose I’ll ask if he wants to go out for a drink, as friends” he tacked on to the end though it clearly pleased her enough. 

He left his office with the reports, making them promise to not make a mess of his office before leaving; “Matchmaking?” Arthur inquired, 

“Best in the business,” she smirked looking at Ivan and Arthur “I came up with the arrangement for you two and that has worked out quite well”

[x-rds]

[Lio] Man the One thing that we want more than anything is to be able to freely socialize as ourselves both online and offline and it’s so tempting to at least online be like. Open. About it all. But also: the dang fear of it all. Would people treat us well? If this got past our more immediate social circles would we face difficulty finding work or living in a society that fears us for this?

It’s hard to look at how we interact with people or events. I pretty much get automatically pushed to front as a defense mechanism. So many moments in our life are ones where someone other than me is enjoying something or WOULD be enjoying it but we are near other people so I end up fronting the whole time and they feel upset because they can remember it happening but they didn’t get to enjoy it themselves.

Stealth fronting is... hard for us. We can do it sometimes. But not very often, or very well. Partner this with the fact that many of us have voice dysphoria when we speak and it doesn’t sound like us... and the likelihood of most of us being stuck behind someone defense-fronting is super high.

In a perfect world.. we’d just be us. Just ourselves. On forums and in discord servers. On social media. In emails. On our art-posting sites. But it’s... scary. It’s scary. People are unkind. People are misunderstanding. People assume the worst. At best most people see what makes them think “oh cringe” and ignore it on principle and at worst they become abrasive and attack you in some way. How do you make real friends when you’re either hiding a massive part of your life or you’re being completely looked over because you were ‘cringey’ about the fact that you exist?

So anyways. We continue hiding I guess.

[hasufin]

From a security standpoint, a lot of this is security theater and aggressively awful threat modeling.

As one commenter noted - she's alone, what the heck is that panic whistle gonna do? And you've got so many other toys which don't actually increase security at all - the cameras do nothing, I'm of the opinion that the fingerprint locks actually make a location less secure (they're not hard to beat, they increase the threat surface, and they serve as an indicator that this location is more likely to be worth attacking). Portable door locks are meant as a secondary safety measure in situations where you cannot upgrade the regular locks, such as in a hotel: if you're not confident in the locks on your own doors replace the fucking locks.

Moreover, you notice that at least one of those doors was half-height glass? Yeah... your clever little portable door lock and stuff isn't doing a thing when someone smashes that and opens the door. Which they can do because you're terrified of your neighbors and they won't give a fuck if they hear crashing from the house of the people who never even acknowledge their existence. You'd get a lot more value out of installing a better strike plate, replacing your wood doors, and actually talking with your neighbors. But people like this don't see TikToks about how great it is to have neighbors who will call the police if someone is breaking into your house, they see TikToks about these cool portable locks.

Unfortunately, I saw this kind of thing even in the corporate world when I was a security auditor. A lot of companies love to invest a lot of money in implementing AES512 encryption on their email server, and are in denial that the realistic use case is someone asking their underpaid and demoralized sysadmin for the password.

But that gets to the next part: realistic threat modeling. Why does anyone feel the need to employ so many measures, effective or not?

Well, the OP's mention of republicans is accurately targeted. I'll quote from Bob Altemeyer's The Authoritarians:

Authoritarian followers score highly on the Dangerous World scale, and it’s not just because some of the items have a religious context. High RWAs are, in general, more afraid than most people are. They got a “2 for 1 Special Deal” on fear somehow. Maybe they’ve inherited genes that incline them to fret and tremble. Maybe not. But we do know that they were raised by their parents to be afraid of others, because both the parents and their children tell us so.

These people were raised to believe Everyone Else is dangerous and they need a powerful protector. They're constantly awash in media which reminds them of this, which highlights it over and over. And that makes them more isolated, less safe, and more reliant on that very media for reassurance which will never come.

And that's the scary part. They're being told they need a powerful protector to save them from the Dark Forces, they're always anxious and scared, and nothing is making it better. And they're applying that same decision-making process across the board.

[heaven-s-black-box]

Field Trips & Chaos- Crossover chpt.1

Return to File - SPN File - DNA File - BSD File

Recovery date: December 18th, 2020

Description: The Winchesters are contacted by a very tired Japanese government official, trying to deal with a very troublesome case. Meanwhile, a coincidental schedule lands some high schoolers in the wrong place at the wrong time. Will everyone survive?

Notes: This entry has been translated for viewing facility, all bold writing is Japanese.

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

Word count: 654

Back to directory

“Oh thank god!” Dean sighed as the plane landed.

“Oh come on, it wasn’t that bad. You were very brave,” Sam laughed condescendingly. 

They’d just landed after 16 hours in the air on the way to Narita airport. The flight hadn’t been all that bad though, first class, courtesy of a secret department in the Japanese government. Not that Dean had noticed, he’d been too busy trying not to scream, which Sam had found absolutely hilarious.  

A few days ago, they’d received a call from a Japanese government official named Tsujimura who was contacting them on behalf of her boss. She didn’t tell them what department she was from, claiming it technically didn’t exist, and only told them there was a potential world ending threat. Just their kind of thing.

Apparently everyone knew who the Winchesters were if they were even remotely tied to the world of the supernatural.

“So, how do we get to Yoko… Yoko…”

“Yokohama?”

“That’s the place!” Dean snapped his figures, and a few people looked at them funny. Sam just shook his head.

“They got us train tickets, so you don’t have to worry about flying anymore. It’s supposed to be about an hour and a half by train, and they’re going to email the tickets once we get to the station.”

“So, we aren’t on a time limit?”

“I’m sure you can get food at the station,” Sam rolled his eyes, “let’s find it first.”

It took them a while, and Dean mostly whined about hunger the whole time, but they eventually found the JR Narita express. Dean ran off to grab food, while Sam took a seat and emailed Tsujimura about their arrival.

Not even a minute later, the tickets were sent in with a departure time of twenty minutes from then.

“Yo, she get-”

“Come on, we have to find platform four. It leaves in twenty minutes,” Sam said, grabbing his bag and heading off towards the nearest directory.

“Come on,” Dean groaned, shoving the last of his power bar down.

They rushed a little more than necessary, and made it with a few minutes to spare, which Sam used to steal a power bar from Dean. 

The platform was slightly busy, and someone was yelling, but they were finally able to sit down and take a break.

They’d gotten little sleep on the plane, with Dean in constant fear and Sam trying to learn basic communication and etiquette, so they were well beyond exhausted. Not to mention the jet lag from flying across the world and the overall ambiguity of their mission.

Sam closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them, he saw Dean slowly nodding off and nudged him.

“Hey, don’t fall asleep yet,” Sam laughed.

“Screw you,” Dean mumbled.

The sound of rattling tracks had the boys standing and getting ready to board.

“Yosh!”

They winced as someone’s yell flooded the tunnel.

“Shut up Bakamura!”

“Ow!”

Sam sighed, “God I hope they don’t board the same cart as us.”

“You and me both. I, for one, would like to sleep.”

They entered the cart and took seats as far back as possible.

“That’s not frowned upon, right?” Dean asked, turning to Sam.

“I don’t think so, from what I could find it’s actually a sign of hard work.”

“Good.”

Closing his eyes, Dean settled in for a short nap knowing Sam would poke him in a half hour so they could switch. It was something they’d decided on during the flight so they wouldn’t miss their stop.

“Remember, keep your voice down.”

“Why are you looking at me!”

“Because your the only one stupid enough to start yelling on a train.”

“Wha-”

“Miyuki, don’t get him started.”

Sam looked up from his phone,over the seat, and frowned.

“Please tell me it’s not-”

“Yup.”

Dean poked his head around the seat to see the rest of the cart.

“Shit.”

[sinner-as-saint]

Crawling Back To You.

Bucky Barnes x Reader 

Run-through: Bucky Barnes had a lot on his plate at the moment. Regrets, fears, nightmares and desperately trying to do the right things to make up for his past as the Winter Soldier. Amongst those things, barely anything made him truly happy, or safe or loved. None did actually - except for you. He met you at a bar once and since then, you’ve been his sanctuary. You both knew he wasn’t quite ready to be in a relationship, yet you were always there with open arms whenever he needed a friend, a shoulder to lean on, or someone to help him take his mind off things. Be it a nightmare, or memories from the past coming to haunt him, or any major or minor inconvenience, the super soldier would find himself turning to you for help. 

Themes: angst, fluff, smut

He woke up on the floor, covered in cold sweat. 

The flashbacks of the nightmares kept resurfacing until it finally faded again. Faded, not truly gone because he knew they’d be back tomorrow again - his past coming to haunt him. He sighed and squinted at the screen in front of him. 

The T.V was on, playing reruns of a show he did not care about. He simply needed the noise to help him fall asleep. The quiet and silence was his own personal hell, so he always needed some sort of background noise to help him out. 

Bucky tried getting some sleep again; tossing and turning on the wooden flooring but he couldn’t fall back asleep. His mind was racing, too many thoughts at once. He checked the time, the clock read 1 a.m. He could go on a run, but he didn’t really feel like it. He could go to the gym, but he didn’t feel like working out either. 

He needed something. An escape, a friend. You, he needed you. 

Bucky reached for his phone, and a few taps later he was calling you. He knew it was late but you somehow always picked up his calls no matter what the time was. The rings later, he heard your voice speak up from the other end. 

“Buck?” You sounded sleepy, but not like he had woken you up, you sounded like you were about to fall asleep. 

He closed his eyes and sighed at the sound of your voice. He could picture you, all tucked in your comfy bed, surrounded by pillows and your soft blankets. Perhaps you had lost track of time because of a good book, or perhaps you were up late responding to emails for work. 

“Hey doll. Did I wake you up?” he asked, leaning back against the wall of his living room, his legs sprawled out on the floor in front of him. Only sometimes did he feel like he was taking advantage of your kindness, but then again he could be selfish when it came to you. You were his, and that’s that. 

You let out a little laugh. “Of course not, Bucky. I was just finishing up some work.” He could hear your sheets shuffling, “Are you okay? Did you have another nightmare?” you asked, softly. 

Bucky told you he did. Then he went on to tell you exactly what he had dreamt of. Sometimes he felt like he was opening up more to you than his shrink. But truth is, you made him feel like he was more than just a broken soldier, or a problem who needed to be remedied or fixed. You made him feel like he was human after all. 

“I… I’m trying to fall back asleep but…” his voice trailed off. He didn’t have to say it, you understood perfectly. He knew you did. 

Then he heard his favorite words coming from you, “Come over Buck, I’m waiting.” 

He wasted no time in getting up from the floor and getting dressed. Dark jeans, shirt, jacket and not to forget his gloves. Sometimes he wondered why he felt so giddy when you asked him to come over, which was almost every night. He wondered what it would be like to come home to you every night instead, had it been a perfect world. He always felt like he was clinging to you too much, for everything. But then you always told him that you didn’t mind. You told him you loved his company. 

He grabbed his helmet before stepping out of his apartment. There was a light drizzle outside but he didn’t care, he just needed to be with you. He got down the stairs and then rushed to start his mean bike and then rushed to your apartment building. You lived in a much nicer part of the city than he did, and he often wondered why you were putting up with someone like him when you could have a man who would give you a life you’ve always dreamt of. He often asked you that, but you always just smiled at him, you never answered. 

On his way up to your floor, he couldn’t help but feel all warm in the elevator. He counted down the seconds till he could see you. He often slept over at your place, he loved it. Cuddling, making love, followed by lazy mornings, him trying to get you to not go to work and spend the day with him instead. He loved how you made him feel. 

He knocked on your door, already taking off his gloves because he needed to feel your skin against his. Your body heat made him feel so much better. He heard you unlocking the door from the other side and not even a second later, he saw your pretty face smiling at him. Dressed in silk PJ shorts and a t-shirt, you looked breathtakingly beautiful even at one thirty in the morning. 

“Hello there,” you greeted him, smirking. “That was fast.” You teased, opening the door wider to let him in. 

He smiled and stepped inside, closing the door behind him and pulling you in for a hug immediately. You felt his slightly damp and cold jacket press against you but you hugged him back tightly anyways. 

“I needed to see you.” He mumbled, pressing his face into your neck. 

“I know.” 

-

You and Bucky ended up in your bed, cuddling under the blankets. He loved the dimmed night light you always had on, knowing that he hated being in complete darkness. He loved how cozy your room was, how spacious and airy but also warm and comfortable. 

The large window by your bed showed a lovely view of the city lights, which were right now blurred by the foggy glass, thanks to the light drizzle earlier. He could tell that the air was cold outside, but in here with you everything was just right. 

He had stripped down to just his boxers and he laid his head on your chest, his face facing away from yours, while you played with his hair and occasionally ran your hand down his back, scratching his skin lightly. His cold metal arm lazily ran up and down your thighs and he noticed the goosebumps on your skin that he was causing. 

He could hear your steady heartbeats and that was his favorite sound in the entire world. It calmed him down. 

You looked down, smiling softly at the sight of the muscular soldier using you as a human pillow. You could hear him let out quiet moans as you gently scratched his scalp. You still remembered the first time you two met, at a bar. 

-

It was late on a winter night, and the nearby bar was rather empty; just a few people here and there. And a certain muscular man in a dark leather jacket caught your eye. He was sitting at the counter, and you were in one of the booths. Eventually, you got up and decided to go talk to him. 

You recognized him immediately. Ex-Winter Soldier, Captain America’s best friend, James Buchanan Barnes.

Small talks turned into a couple more rounds of beers. He was a little off and awkward at first but he loosened up eventually. He even walked you back to your car, not wanting you to be alone in the dark, foggy and empty parking lot. 

That was the first time he kissed you, right before he opened the door of your car for you. 

“Will I see you again?” He asked, high off the adrenaline which coursed through his veins ever since you kissed him back. 

“Of course you will. Good night, James.” You kissed his cheek before getting into your car and driving off. 

-

A smile formed on your face as you thought of that night. “Do you remember the first time we met?” You asked softly. 

Bucky turned his face to you, placing his head back on your chest. He was so close that all you needed to do was to lean in a little to kiss his soft, pink lips. 

He smiled. “Yeah, why?” 

“No reason, I just wanted you to remember it.” 

Bucky chuckled and pressed a gentle kiss on your skin, right above your breasts. “You’ve been awfully quiet. What is it?” 

You just smiled at him, “Nothing. You’ve been awfully quiet too.” And judging by the look in his eyes, you could already tell there was something else to his silence. “What is it?” 

He was quiet. 

Sighing, you flipped the two of you around; straddling his waist while he laid comfortably against your multiple pillows. 

“Buck, tell me.” You pressed your palms against his chest to hold yourself up. 

“Sam needs my help with something. Another bad guy, another mission, another fight. Same old.” He sounded indifferent. 

You couldn’t blame him. He had been fighting for decades, non-stop. He had lost so much while doing so, but he also didn’t know how to deal with the calm, and silence and the quiet. There was so much he needed to figure out about himself still. 

“Do you not wanna go?” 

He smiled faintly as he lazily rubbed up and down your exposed thighs. “It’s my job, I have to. Innocent people will be hurt if I don’t. I want to help them.” 

“Then what’s the issue?” 

“I’ll have to leave you behind for a little while.” He didn’t want to. He didn’t know how to be away from you anymore because he hadn’t been for months now. The thought of not being able to hold you close at night and having your heartbeats lull him to sleep was scary.

You smiled down at him. “I’ll be here when you come back, Bucky.” 

He reached out and cupped your face with his metal hand. “And what if you find someone better while I’m gone?” 

You frowned down at him. “Where does that come from?” 

He gently stroked your cheek. “I’m just saying. You deserve someone a little more… normal.” 

You rolled your eyes at him. “Normal is boring, you seem perfectly fine to me.” 

He chuckled. “Why do you put up with me, doll?” It was a rhetorical question, he didn’t expect an answer because he had asked you this countless number of times but you never gave him a reply before. 

However, you did this time. “Because I’m in love with you, James Buchanan Barnes.” You had been meaning to tell him this for a while now. “You don’t have to say it back, I just needed you to know that no one’s ever gonna replace you. I love you.” 

He was a little surprised, his heart raced as he processed everything. How could someone as gentle, kind and beautiful like you fall for someone as broken as him? “Doll… I…” 

You leaned down to kiss his forehead. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” You giggled, then pulled away to look at him. “You deserve all the good things in this world, Buck. You deserve to be loved, and cared for. And if you’d let me, I’d love to show you that.” 

You carefully pressed your lips to his, kissing him with all the love you had. His metal hand held you at the back of your neck and the other wrapped around your waist. He tilted his head and deepened the kiss; turning your mind into a foggy mess for a little while before he pulled away and stared deep into your eyes. 

You reached out and gently caressed his face, Bucky leaned into your touch. “I’m gonna miss you.” He mumbled. 

“When do you leave?” You asked. 

“Tomorrow, perhaps.” 

You leaned in for a kiss again, accidentally brushing your crotch against his erection; making him smirk through the kiss as he pulled you even closer. You purposely moved against him while you kissed him again deeply. 

Bucky soon flipped the two of you back around and settled in between your legs, kissing down your neck. “I’m gonna miss making love to you almost every night.” He whispered against your skin. His voice alone sent chills down your back, and made you feel all sorts of warm and tingly feelings inside. 

Bucky movements were gentle and slow as he took your clothes off, making sure you were both under the warm covers still; kissing you occasionally as he undressed you, and caressed your body as you squirmed under him. 

He kissed his way down your body, until his face was right in between your legs. You moaned as he parted your legs and placed a kiss on your inner thigh, pulling your underwear down your legs and kissing his way back to your wet folds. You threw your head back, and bit your lip; whining when you felt his tongue teasing you gently. The warmth of his mouth was driving you insane. 

His tongue gently teased your clit while his fingers slipped inside of you; stroking you gently while you arched your back off the surface of your bed as the pleasure became slightly overwhelming. You whimpered and squirmed under him as his tongue moved perfectly against you.

He had you coming undone all over his tongue and his fingers in no time, and he licked you clean when he was done. Kissing his way up your body again. “I’m gonna miss your taste.” He was shameless enough to whisper it in your ear; making you blush. 

His hands roamed around your body, touching you wherever he could, until he finally cupped your core and rubbed the sensitive skin around your swollen clit – making you shudder under him. You whined as he slipped his metal fingers past your entrance yet again. His head dipped into your neck and he licked and bit around your skin until he found your sweet spot. “And I’m gonna miss your warmth.” 

“Buck…” You moaned quietly as he replaced his fingers with his cock. 

He placed his mouth on top of yours again, to swallow your whimpers and moans as he pushed his cock into you. His breathing got shallow again as he pushed himself fully into you. He lifted his head and watched you grimace in pleasure and pain as his cock stretched you to your maximum. He watched you in awe as your lips parted and you moaned his name once he filled you up nicely. 

You whined as he slowly slipped out of you completely, before slamming back into you with a slightly bigger force. 

He groaned at the feel of your walls wrapped around him, squeezing and clenching around him. You heard him swear and felt him bite down on your lip as he sped up into you. He tugged on your lips and he started moving his hips; rocking into you slowly, then gradually increasing his speed. Your back arched off the surface of the bed again and your chest pressed to his.  

“I’m gonna miss watching you squirm under me…” he whispered, “as I pleasure you like no one ever will.” He moaned into your ear. “You’re mine.” 

You were a moaning mess under him in no time. There was something about the way he kissed you, deeply and passionately; as though he was scared you might just get away from him.

He worshipped your body. He mumbled how good you felt in your ear, groaning as you bucked your hips to meet each one of his thrusts as well. He kissed you roughly as he pounded into you; his metal fingers wrapped around your throat. He fucked you raw and relentlessly, watching how your face morphed into frowns of pleasure. 

He pressed his forehead on yours; looking down to where your bodies connected so intimately. Then he pulled away to look into your eyes with that animalistic, primal and fiery look in his eyes. His lips parted as he panted while he fucked you like he owned you.

“You’re gonna miss me too aren’t you, doll?” 

You nodded, whining in pleasure. He smirked. His hand left your neck and slid in between your connected bodies and furiously rubbed your clit, earning a loud moan out of you. “Say it, baby. Tell me how much you’re gonna miss my cock buried deep inside you…” 

You couldn’t talk as the pressure in between your legs became too much to handle, and you craved for release. He noticed and slipped his tongue back into your mouth one last time and took your bottom lip between his teeth again.

“Come on, cum for me… doll,” he swore as he felt you clench around him perfectly. You came hard around him, moaning and whimpering under him as he finished right after you; kissing your swollen lips deeply as he came.

He pushed his face into the crook of your neck as he caught his breath. And you cradled his head; panting as well. Your fingers gently massaged his scalp as he calmed his racing heart. A few moments later, he shifted all his weight right on top of you making you laugh as you tried to scoot out from under him. 

He groaned and pulled you closer. “Come here.” He pressed you against his body and wrapped his arms around. “I love you too, doll. So much.” 

You buried your face into his chest, inhaling his scent. “I’m gonna miss you. All of you.” You lifted your head up to look at him smiling down at you. “Come back fast.” 

He chuckled. “You know I will. No matter where I go, I’ll always come crawling back to you.”

[shreddedparchment]

A Wife for Thor Pt.24

What She’s Done

05/19/2021

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader         Word Count: 5,590

Warnings: language, angst, fluff, Loki being the best bro, pregnancy problems

A/N: I’m sorry this is so late. I’m not going to explain too much as I want the focus to be on the chapter but I’m feeling better. Hope you all enjoy this one and I hope you can forgive me. haha As always, if you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

Please DO NOT repost my work on any other sites or blogs!

REBLOGS are always welcome!

The sound of the fanfare outside is muted. The heavy doors of the main room are shut.

Thor sits on his large steel, silver, and wooden throne. Normally, your own throne would have been moved into the room so that you could sit beside him. Today however, he wants you standing.

Loki stands on Thor’s left, his hands moving across his tablet at godly speeds. He’s busy. Always busy. While Thor has the final say, Loki sets everything up for him and comes to him with the choices that must be made.

He’s indispensable and both you and Thor know it. So, when the large doors are thrown open and Thor takes his hand off of your lower waist where he’d been massaging the knots away, as Ambassador Coates walks forward, you glare right at him and his judging distrustful look at the sight of Asgard’s Prince.

The music outside, large horns that sound more like a call to battle, slowly die and are completely cut off when the doors are shut. Just outside you know two Valkyrie are standing guard.

Inside, two more regular guards stand at attention.

“Ambassador Coates, I’m glad you saw fit to accept my invitation,” Thor says casually.

One wouldn’t know that Thor is angry. He sounds so welcoming. The charm he’s exuding is one you’ve never seen him use before but Loki doesn’t seem surprised by it. Instead, Loki’s lips seem to curve upwards a little in the teeniest smirk.

The Ambassador does as he’s expected and once he’s near the foot of the raised wooden floor where Thor’s throne sits, he gives a quick bow meeting first Thor’s singular eye and then your own blank gaze.

Keeping your anger in check is easy. You’re able to wipe your face of all emotion and it’s a skill now that you’re glad you learned in the orphanage you’d grown up in. Never letting anyone know how sad or hurt you are was key to your survival.

“Your Majesties,” the ambassador states, the irritation in his voice loud and clear for all of you to hear.

It looks like Thor’s plan to roll out the red carpet as if the ambassador were visiting royalty got his message across clearly.

“I hope I find you in good health? Are you faring well with the pregnancy?”

You don’t answer him. You simply stare.

“We’re well enough,” Thor begins. “Forgive me in my haste to get to the point, Ambassador Coates but as I hear it from my brother, you have been making it very difficult for Her Majesty the Queen of Asgard to meet with you, despite her warnings that what she had to share was imperative to the safety of Earth and human-kind.”

The ambassador blinks. He doesn’t attempt to speak or react in any other way than to show that he’s processing Thor’s words. All signs of irritation at his welcome gone.

“Would you say that is a fair statement for her having sent, what was it? Four emails and three phone calls?” Thor asks Loki.

“Seven emails and four phone calls,” he corrects.

“Right. Seven and four.”

“Your Majesty…”

“I think you have been under the impression that my marriage to my wife has been one in name only. She’s Queen but not really? Right? She has no power or authority? Is that what you think?”

Ambassador Coates swallows hard, sweat beading along his temples. He’s not a stout man. In fact, most women would think him good looking. Nothing to Thor or Loki, but for a human he’s handsome. His sweating in this climate makes no sense unless he’s suddenly stressed.

Maybe you shouldn’t feel bad but you do just a bit. You can’t imagine what he must feel being scrutinized by Thor, yourself, and Loki. Clearly he did something wrong and now he knows it.

“Your Majesties, I-I meant no offense. Unfortunately this is a busy time for myself and my colleagues and-”

“We have no time for your excuses,” Thor sits up straighter and draws his legs a little closer together before he licks his lips and holds his hand out towards you.

Taking it, you watch him get up and then he helps you sit before checking on you, “Better, cherub?”

You nod, looking up at him as he caresses the side of your head.

“The only reason you hold the job that you currently do is because my people and I chose to settle on Earth. You might say you owe it to us. Perhaps you’d still have been employed should we not have come here but from what I understand, your salary is considerably more than what it would have been were you in some other position.

“You are married and have children, too. Don’t you?” Thor asks.

“Y-Yes, Your Majesty.”

“So, it’s important to keep your job. Isn’t it?”

He says nothing, this time simply looking down at Thor’s feet.

“My wife is not just Queen in name but she has been exemplary in her devotion of ruling the people of Asgard at my side with honor and grace. The people love her. I’m not sure what made you think you could slight an Asgardian Queen but let me be clear. If our people should find out that there was such disrespect, believe me when I tell you that the loss of your job would be the last thing you’d have to worry about.”

“And just to be clear,” Loki cuts in as Thor’s taking a breath. “My brother is not threatening you. This is a statement of fact. We Asgardians are fiercely loyal and easily offended.”

You like that Ambassador Coates isn’t glaring at Loki anymore. The fear in his eyes is worrying, but you also know that your husband and brother would do nothing to actually hurt this idiot. They’re just making sure he knows where he stands.

Thor crosses his large arms across his wide chest. Though you don’t think he means it to be intimidating, you can see from the ambassador’s gulp that Thor’s minor flex has great impact.

Gods, he’s huge.

“As it just so happens, aside from being a Queen without fault to this kingdom, the Queen of Asgard has seen fit to continue to perform in her duties as the bridge between our two peoples. She refuses to let us make decisions for the human race and was attempting to contact you to warn you of impending dangers. And you, what was the phrase, love?”

“Blew me off.”

“That’s right, you blew her off. And yet we welcome you with respect and grace.”

“Your Majesties,” the ambassador begins, but Thor holds up his hand and he stops.

“Let this be a lesson in humility for you. I love Earth and for that reason alone, in addition to the fact that this is my wife’s home and now mine, we will forgive this lapse of judgement on your part,” you’ve never heard Thor sound more like a King than in this moment.

It’s also one of those moments where you really want to drag him back to the room and get him naked. He’s never been this attractive.

The ambassador bows his head, taking his punishment with dignity.

“Forgive me, your Majesties,” he begins to say something, but then stops himself.

“Speak your mind, Ambassador Coates,” Loki urges, seeing something you and Thor don’t.

“I merely wish to apologize for my lack of forethought. I was not the only one dismissing Her Majesty the Queen of Asgard but will be sure to rectify the behavior with my colleagues when I return.”

Loki smiles, turning his gentle gaze on you as he realizes that you were right. It wasn’t misogyny. Not on Ambassador Coates’s part. That might not be the case for everyone though.

“Perhaps I should schedule meetings with your colleagues so that we might have a quick talk about the expectations we have for our relationship going forward?”

Loki’s threat is veiled heavily, but Ambassador Coates still picks up on it and his face goes a little pale.

“I don’t think that’s necessary, Your Highness. I will pass along the sentiments, if you will let me.”

There’s a burning satisfaction in your chest. Something about watching Ambassador Coates finally show not just you but Loki the respect he deserves makes you so happy.

“My Queen?” Loki prompts you, looking to you to wait for your reply.

“I think we can give him a chance to express our disappointment for us. He is our ambassador. Isn’t that right Ambassador Coates?”

Coates looks relieved, pressing his hand to his chest as he bows his head to you again.

It’s a strange sensation to see the gratitude on his face and his posture relaxes as a result. You literally just did that. You gave him some forgiveness and it really does make all the difference.

“I will support you and the Asgardian throne with more fervor from here on out, Your Majesty.”

“Cool,” you shrug, reaching to place your hand on the back of Thor’s neck, absolutely beaming at him.

He chuckles and puts his hand back on your waist, giving you a gentle squeeze and shake.

“Are you happy, my cherub?”

You nod, unable to contain the smile that stretches across your lips and you lean into him.

“Good. My job here is done then. Now, I have some things to do,” Thor rises and moves around until he’s facing you and pulls you up into a chaste but loving kiss.

With a caress to your belly, he looks at Loki and nods.

“I’ll leave the rest to you and my Queen, brother.”

“Sif will meet you by the docks,” Loki nods.

“Wonderful. I’ll see you later, love. If you need me, just tell Loki and I will come running.”

“‘Kay,” you smile.

Thor turns back to your guest and moves towards him, clapping his shoulder as he passes, “Do better, Ambassador Coates. Do better.”

All three of you watch Thor strut for the large front doors. The guard opens it for him and when he’s out of sight, the doors shutting behind him, you move to take your seat on the throne. Loki scoots a little closer to your side but stands with his tablet ready.

“Now, I think we should get down to the reason I wanted to meet with you,” you start and Ambassador Coates stands a little straighter. “But...I don’t know about you but this whole towering over you sitting on a throne thing is not really my style and feels a little forced. Let’s go to my sitting room.”

Loki smirks as Ambassador Coates relaxes a little more and even smiles, “Yes, Your Majesty.”

As the three of you walk up the steps to the right of the throne room to climb up to the small sitting room that had been set aside for you and your private entertaining, you steal a few glances at Ambassador Coates.

He still looks a little rattled and you stroke your stomach, the long silk dress you’re wearing, ruffled skirt and loose waist giving it a soft flowing quality is still noticeable and Ambassador Coates steals a few glances.

“Didn’t think I was really pregnant?”

He blanches, “What? N-No, Your Majesty! I had no reason to doubt you.”

“It’s okay. A lot of people didn’t believe it until I came back from my little vacation. I just wanted to make sure that it would take. We’re all so dependent on this little one and a lot is riding on my having Thor’s heir quickly.”

“No one who has seen you rule since your marriage would doubt your commitment to this union, Y/N,” Loki assures you gently.

He’s your number one supporter and you’re so damn grateful for him.

All three of you fall into silence but with your heavy belly and your slow walk, it stretches on.

“I’m sorry about Thor’s enthusiasm to put you in your place,” you give Coates a small apologetic smile but he quickly shakes his head. “He can be a little passionate.”

“No, Your Majesty, the mistake was mine. I should have paid you the respect you deserved. It’s-You work in an environment for too long and you begin to adopt certain behaviors that you should know aren’t acceptable but when everyone is doing it and-I was wrong. I can’t blame Thor for setting me straight.”

“Thank you, for understanding,” you shrug.

“Thank you for not holding it against me and letting me do better.”

It takes only another few minutes to reach the sitting room and you make a beeline for the small loveseat before dropping into it and leaning back against the soft plush cushions.

“Whew, I probably should have done my research on how pregnancy would affect all aspects of my life before agreeing to it,” a joke and Coates gets it because he looks respectfully amused.

Loki scoffs, “With Thor, I doubt you’d have had much choice in the matter. He is also believed to be a God of fertility, you know?”

“Loki!”

The small shock on your face really makes Coates laugh this time and your neck, ears, and cheeks burn.

Not wanting to drag this meeting out for a long time you clear your throat and Loki sits down on the armchair beside you opposite Coates’s own seat.

“I should really be more formal, but I’m not kidding when I tell you that this pregnancy is taking a toll on me.”

“Think nothing of it, Your Majesty,” Coates assures you.

“I’m not sure what you’ll be able to do with this information and maybe it’ll be best if, with your help, you can get a meeting in front of both the United Nations and NATO scheduled for me to speak to them directly.

“Thor and Loki would be there with me, of course, but it was my idea to even bring this to your attention.”

“I will be of any assistance that I can be,” Coates nods, face serious and attentive.

“We wanted to wait until we had more concrete information to give Earth’s leaders but our Queen is adamant that an early warning is better than detailed information,” Loki explains.

“Is the Earth in danger?” Coates asks, worried now.

“Sort of,” you nod. “Truth is, we don’t know. What we do know is that there’s an energy signature that we’ve been monitoring for months. Almost my entire first year of marriage. What we do know is that the energy signal was strong enough to bring Doctor Foster here to look for an explanation and my brother-in-law has kept his eye on it too. It’s familiar to him and not unthreatening so we’ve been preparing watch stations across the globe. We have one in North and South America, Australia, almost every continent so that we won’t miss any kind of danger that comes falling from the sky.

“We don’t want a repeat of New York,” you look at Loki and Coates looks at him too but neither of you have any kind of judgement in your expressions.

Maybe a little for Coates, but he quickly turns his gaze back on you.

“I wanted to give the people of Earth time to prepare for that kind of attack. The Avengers are already on the case and have been helping build up a defense but they can only do so much. Their focus is going to be on the bigger fight if it comes to that. I want to give us a fighting chance on the ground where regular people are often the ones to get hurt and suffer from big threats like this.

“I don’t want the casualties to look like they have in the past when something or someone threatens us. So, I just want to give world leaders a briefing on what we’ve found, what we’ve built in defense, and give them the resources to keep track of what we’re keeping track of.

“We’re at a unique advantage with not only Asgard’s knowledge, technology, and resources. We’re still a growing nation and what we do have is lots of strength. I’ve been thinking about it a lot and while the Valkyrie have to stay here to protect my family, we have a sizable guard that can be split into a few regiments to send out to the places that will need it most and still have enough forces to protect New Asgard.”

Coates is thinking hard, then his hand dives into his pocket and he pulls out his phone, “I’ll start making calls and can probably have something set up the day after tomorrow. If the threat is serious enough to make you worry about us humans this much, I think the sooner the better.”

“It is serious enough,” Loki assures him. “Even if it turns into nothing, we would all rather have done everything we could to minimize damage to both the humans of Earth and New Asgard.”

“Then I’ll get started. Is there any kind of data that I should see in order to convince my bosses?”

You look to Loki and reach out, placing your hand on his arm, “Loki, take Ambassador Coates down to the dungeon and let him get a look at anything we’ve gathered in the monitoring station. You’ll forgive me for not coming with you, Ambassador Coates? I really can’t stand walking around much longer today.”

“Of course, please do not mind me,” he assures you, giving you a small bow.

“Shall I have your lunch brought in here?” Loki asks.

“Please?”

He nods and with a gesture at Ambassador Coates, leads the way to the door.

“When you’ve made any significant progress, I will be in here. Can you come and let me know?”

Coates nods, the phone now pressed to his ear, “As soon as I know something, Your Majesty.”

They leave you in an appropriate rush and you relax against the cushions of your sofa feeling like a small burden’s been lifting off your shoulders.

You’ve done your part now. You’ve warned your Ambassador, now it’s his job to convince his higher-ups and hopefully they listen.

Estrid does eventually come with your lunch and you eat slowly, thinking through your options for Coates and the rest of the governments of the world. Splitting the Asgardian army up isn’t ideal, but they pack a punch. Even just a handful of soldiers in a city would make a difference.

You finish eating and you finish your tea. You get up to walk a little around the sitting room but as the afternoon wears on, you start to feel suffocated inside and Estrid happily goes with you down to your gardens.

Most of your plants have been well taken care of.

“His Majesty made sure that we kept all of your plants healthy for you,” Estrid informs you, moving to walk a few steps behind you as you walk around with a small watering can.

His consideration brings a smile to your lips.

Thor really can be so sweet. So loving. You hate that some of the time from your first year was stolen by what happened with Jane, but it couldn’t be helped. He had to discover what it would mean to lose you and you had to learn that depending on yourself is still just as important married as it was when you had no one.

Maybe it’s even more important now? You can get lost in your relationship with Thor and while that’s super tempting, to have your world start and end with Thor and your married life together, you are still your own person.

You have goals for your career and shared dreams with him too. You’ve got your hobbies and Thor has his. Both of you needed the distance.

Despite that, even though you know that the space was good for both of you, even if it hurt like hell to get it the way you two did, you’re actually really happy to be back home.

As you reach over to water one of your taller butterfly bushes, you gasp and pull your arm back against your body as a small sharp pain rocks your senses and blinds your vision for a split second.

“Your Majesty?” Estrid hurries forward.

“I’m fine, Estrid,” you assure her, waiting another second to see if the pain will come back.

Reaching down you rub the spot on your tummy where you’d felt it and wonder if maybe the baby is just kicking especially hard today.

“Shall I fetch the doctors?”

“No, really. I’m fine, Estrid.”

You move to the next plant and water a few more as you head towards the small greenhouse with the Asgardian plants you’re still trying to perfect the care for but as you reach for the door, you double over as a shooting pain stretches across the same side as before then moves down onto the base of your belly.

The watering can falls from your hand as you reach out to brace yourself against the door and hits the floor with a clunk as the water goes all over your flats, soaking your feet.

“Your Majesty!”

Estrid races to you, hands placed on your back and arm to support you as she looks to steal a glance at your face.

With your eyes shut tight, you groan and whimper as the pain just gets sharper.

“Estrid…” it takes a moment to catch your breath. “Get the doctors.”

“Guard!” Estrid calls, forcing you to let go of the door so that she can lead you to a bench. “Guard, send for the doctor!”

“Thor,” you whimper, sitting slowly and gasping as the pain intensifies. “Get Thor.”

“I’ll send for him, my Queen,” Estrid assures you and now that you’re seated, she leaves you to run and hurry the guard.

“What’s wrong?”

“Loki?” you call breathlessly, searching for his face for the comfort you know it’ll give you to have him close.

“Here,” he calls out for you and hurries around the corner. “I’m here. What’s happened? What’s wrong?”

He hovers over you, leaning over, his hands carefully pressed to your cheek and the other on your stomach.

“It hurts,” you sob without tears, “Loki…”

“It’s alright,” he promises. “You and my nephew will be fine. Come on, put your arm around my neck.”

His certainty does help and you get your arm around him. With ease he squats down and lifts you into his arms and with you moves back into the palace.

~~~~~~~~~~

It feels like a long time when you open your eyes again. You’re dizzy a little and weak. Your body feels heavy and it’s a struggle to sit up.

Looking around, you realize you’re in your bedroom alone. The sky outside is dark and the room is dim with only the fireplace lit to cast a warm orange glow around the dark room.

“Loki?” you try, remembering him carrying you when he found you in the garden.

No movement.

“Thor? Estrid?” You’d sent her to get the doctors and to get Thor. Had the doctors come?

Thor’s favorite armchair is placed by your bed, angled towards you so he must have been in here sitting by you waiting for you to wake up.

With a heavy sigh, you realize that he must have been out of his mind with worry when he heard what happened. Is the baby okay?

You put your hands on your tummy and wait for movement. He does wiggle around a little. Normal for you and him and that makes you feel better about the pain that had come out of nowhere.

It takes you too long to get up and out of bed. You’re in your nightgown, a long simple piece with modern touches but it’s also very similar to some of the long flowing white ones you remember seeing in history books.

Taking extra time to stretch up onto your feet just in case the pain comes back, you breathe a sigh of relief when you take your first step and find that you’re okay.

“Oh, baby,” you reach down and rub the sides of your bump. “You scared me, rascal.”

You know that you should probably stay still. Staying in bed is probably what your Doctors suggested but the empty chair has you worried about Thor and what state he might be in.

So instead of staying where you should, you open your bedroom door and step out into the hallway.

The spots to either side where there’s usually a guard are empty.

You look up towards the other end of the hall and see that the two soldiers have moved to stand at the center of the hall, shoulders tense and obviously distracted. Further down, at what you think they must be staring at is a grouping of palace staff. People you recognize. Estrid stands among them, frowning at the small crack in the door through which pours a line of bright white light from the sitting room you share with Thor.

Did something happen?

As you pass the two guards the jump and hurry back to the sides of your bedroom door where they belong. Their flurry of movement must have drawn the attention of the others standing by the door. They also seem to jump, look shamed and worried, before they move away from the door and head in all different directions to get back to work.

One of the maids that passes you curtsies before she scurries off stealing a look of regret at you.

Estrid stands rigid, hands clasped to her front before she steps back a bit to give you room.

“What is it, Estrid?”

She doesn’t say anything. She looks upset, her lips fixed into a severe line, eyes full of anger as she shakes her head.

“Where’s Loki? Thor?” you check, stopping by her and she only looks at the door.

You can hear muted voices from inside and your heart begins to pound.

Is it the doctors? Are Thor and Loki getting bad news? The baby was just moving though!

Your baby has to be okay. Healthy even. Nothing was wrong before you came back home.

Clinging to your bump, you move towards the crack in the door and with the breath leaving your lungs in fear of what you’ll overhear you just go ahead and push the door open because eavesdropping hasn’t served you well in the past.

If something needs to be said, you want to hear it without hiding.

Of course, what you aren’t expecting to find is Loki facing you by the long sofa where Thor usually lounges, resting his head on your lap. Behind Loki, what must have given him that frustrated look on his face is Thor, Jane clinging to his arm as she finishes speaking the thought you just interrupted as they all turn to look at you.

“-can’t help it. I love you. I-”

The absolute fury that engulfs you is indescribable.

For one year-long second, you inhale and a million thoughts cross your mind. The one you grasp onto, in favor of the ones involving murder and hurt and violence, is the one of your baby.

This kind of anger is bad for him. You can’t let it consume you. Not when you need to stay good for him.

Loki looks down at his feet, disappointment and shame overcoming his pale, handsome features.

Thor quickly jerks his hand out of Jane’s grip and moves towards you but stops when you speak only a few feet away.

“Jane?”

She swallows hard, then frowns, “I only came to warn Thor that the readings have gotten stronger. I-”

“I don’t care why you’re here. I only care that you are here. You aren’t welcome in my house, near my husband, or on any piece of land in this Kingdom,” you take a step towards them and stop as you stroke your belly to remind you to keep calm. “I want you gone. Out of my home, away from my people, and if you trespass here again, I’ll have you thrown in jail. You aren’t welcome in New Asgard.”

“You can’t ban me from an entire Kingdom,” she argues, moving forward towards you.

“Try me,” you warn. “Out of respect for what you meant to Thor in the past, I’ve kept your name clean. I haven’t told anyone what you tried to do here, but here you are trying again. Now either you want me to trash you, or you seriously can’t take a hint.

“We don’t want you here.”

“Thor invited me himself, if he didn’t want me here, why would he do that?”

You grind your teeth, again stroking your tummy, “You’re right. I don’t know why my husband would invite you here when I have made it very clear that you aren’t welcome. Whatever the reason, he and I will discuss it together, because we’re married. Husband and wife. Until the day I die, at least, since he’ll outlive me by two thousand years.

“And whatever you two had in the past is gone. So, get out or I’ll have you thrown out.”

She opens her mouth to argue and you take two steps towards her, “I might be pregnant, but I can still do plenty of damage in the minute that it’ll take Thor and Loki to pull me off of you. Please, say something. Please, please I beg you. Give me an excuse. I have a really bad temper and I am dying to express myself. Please.”

Jane turns towards Thor, waiting for some kind of rebuttal from him but he’s got his eyes trained on you and you alone. The shame on his face, the agony of what you finding them all here might mean is not lost on him.

When he doesn’t say anything, Loki clears his throat, “I think it’s time to go, Jane.”

His urging helps and with a look of hurt and disbelief, she tears her eyes off of Thor and stomps out past you.

You watch her go, Estrid scurrying after her to lead her out the back instead of the front where she might be spotted.

“Loki?”

He turns to you, waiting.

“I don’t want anyone to know she was here. Anyone other than the group of palace staff that was standing by the door fucking listening to what was being said in here. Can you get Heimdall and send her home that way?”

“I’m on it,” he assures you and hurries past you, disappearing into the palace.

“I-” Thor begins.

“Don’t!”

He shuts his mouth.

“Not here.”

Turning, you lead the way back to the bedroom and the guard opens the door for you, Thor following closely behind.

As the door shuts you don’t stop until you’re sitting on your bed, hands stroking your belly as you shut your eyes and try to calm yourself.

“I asked you for one thing. One thing, Thor. I asked you not to make a fool of me. Seven people from our staff were listening to you and Jane. Seven! By tomorrow that’ll be twenty and by the weekend the tabloids will have picked up on the story.”

“I’m sorry,” he starts but you growl in frustration.

“I stood in front of our people and told them that Jane Foster was not welcome in our Kingdom and you walked her right in! I-I can’t do this. I can’t do this right now.”

You get up and point at the large doors.

“I need you to get out. I need space and I don’t care why you let her in. I don’t care why you’d make me look like such a stupid fucking joke I only know that you did and I’m done. I need you out. Don’t come looking for me. When I’m ready, if I’m ever ready to talk to you again, I’ll find you. Until then, leave me alone.”

“Cherub-”

“NO! You don’t get to do this shit, Thor-You don’t get to undermine me and bring that woman back into our lives and still get to explain yourself after she lied to you about being pregnant, and making a mockery of our marriage. You don’t get a say. You get out of my room, you keep away from me, you wait until I’m ready to hear you. Until I’m not angry anymore. Until I’m not hurting anymore.

“I don’t understand what it is about this woman that you just-can’t you see what she is? What she’s done? Don’t you understand why she can’t be here? Don’t you get-You know what? Just get out. I don’t care. I don’t care if you get it or not. Get out.”

“Y/N, please, I-”

“GET OUT!”

The silence that follows your outburst is interrupted only by the crackling of the fire. In the dim light, Thor’s face is grave and broken. You can’t feel bad for him though.

As much as you love him, as much as you wish this hadn’t just happened, as much as you hate to see him hurt, you can’t ignore the pain in your own chest, drowning you again in betrayal.

This is why you’d wanted to keep your distance. This agony is why you’d wanted to keep him at arm’s length.

This is why you can only depend on yourself.

Eventually, Thor bows his head and with heavy feet, he leaves your room shutting the door behind him leaving you to sob and throw pillows in anger.

[zooptseyt]

מיר וועלן זיי איבערלבן

We will outlive them

This year I had one of the greatest honors of my professional career, and frankly a high point in my life in general, in being asked to present to sophomore English classes about Jews and Judaism as part of their unit on the book Night. I made a point of talking very little on the Holocaust itself. Instead I divided it into three main sections: (1) Jewish practice, culture, and belief; (2) Ashkenazi Jewish history pre-Holocaust, with special focus on Jew hatred; (3) what we should take away from the lessons of the Holocaust today.

In this last part, I explained how the Nazis' hatred was aimed at many aspects of society—foreigners, LGBTQ+ people, leftists—and that Jews were hated both for being Jews and for being associated with these groups.

Because of this especially, I spent the weeks in which I presented waiting anxiously, worried that I might get an email or a phone call letting me know a parent or student complained. Fortunately, this didn't happen. I wish that made me feel more like the fear was misguided.

I have faced, in some form or another, antisemitism at every job I have worked (other than Baskin Robbins, credit where it's due). I have had a coworker at Jimmy John's lecture me on how the Holocaust is a myth and Jews run the world and, upon me letting management know this, they promised to move us to different shifts. That was all. No disciplinary action.

Before that, Menards was the first time I got called a kike. Had another guy complain about what I was doing in Israel (to clarify, I have done nothing in Israel, as I have never set foot anywhere near it). Had a coworker who, in a moment of being overly familiar, called me "you fucking jew" the literal first time he met me (we did not become close and I don't believe I ever learned his name). Had others, upon learning I was Jewish, compliment me for looking normal, and not having an ugly nose.

The students are mostly great. I have heard some students murmur things about Jews upon seeing me enter the classroom, but only once. I accept the possibility that comments happen behind my back. I had one student start chanting "Jew" at me directly when we went over a story about a kid making a bunch of money through their wise business decisions. When I shot him a look and told him to stop, he looked genuinely upset to see I was mad. That stuck with me. He was a nice boy who very clearly liked me a lot, and he thought chanting "Jew, Jew, Jew, Jew" at me as a joke about getting rich was fine. Oy.

Neither of those events took place during my presentations for Night. Aside from the usual few kids sleeping, they were all very respectful and engaged. I'm deeply grateful for this.

And yet I spent a month expecting to get called in. We as a nation have had two notable instances in the news where someone in authority said educators need to be fair to the Nazis. Thankfully, both instances were met with backlash. Maus just got pulled in Tennessee. People are regularly making comparisons between public health ordinances and being dehumanized, rounded up into camps, and murdered for being Jewish.

אוי.

I have become slightly more visibly Jewish lately. You could call me baal teshuvah, which I would, but this usually comes with the assumption of an orthodox affiliation (I am Reform). Part of this is because I believe firmly in my religion and want to act on it, but this was true for years before I was willing to wear a yarmulke out in public. At some point I realized that frankly the only reason I wasn't wearing a yarmulke was that I didn't want people to think I was weird. Without a yarmulke, even people who know I'm Jewish see me as a person first. With a yarmulke, I realized that even many of those who don't hate Jews will see my Jewishness first and then, hopefully, my humanity. At some point I realized two things: firstly, that I was happy with being seen as a Jew first. Secondly, that I want anyone who may hate me for being a Jew to hate me. I would rather be spit on for being a Jew than accepted under false pretenses.

But, as seems fitting, my religious baal teshuvah was part of a larger returning to Jewish culture. I've started cooking kasha varnishkes, (vegetarian) kishka, matzoh balls, latkes, kugel, baking challah, etc. I'm studying Yiddish on duolingo, reading Yiddish literature in translation, and so on. I'm not a perfect Jew, I am decidedly not good about Shabbos, but I light the candles. I try to daven. I do the holidays, big and small. I eat bagels.

A major part of this whole thing for me comes from the way Jews view time and history. It is said that every Jew should see themselves as leaving Egypt every day. It is said that every Jew was present at Sinai. We aren't merely to see ourselves as the descendents of our history, but active participants who feel these events as their personal experiences rather than historical.

I understood this conceptually, but only recently did I actually start to feel it, to actually really get it myself. I think this shapes how we look at the Holocaust, especially as we move closer to a point where there are no survivors left. It certainly shapes how I view it. The impact of the Holocaust has shaped in some form every Jew alive today.

I was reading just the other day a book that mentioned the idea that to dance at a Jewish wedding is to dance on Hitler's grave. We should view our lives as such, as acts of defiance, and as acts of triumph. We as Jews should live every day knowing that our moments of joy and safety are an act of triumph hard won.

As an educator, I obviously value education as a means of doing good. Education is vital to honoring the lives, history, and culture stolen from us by the Nazis. Obviously, educating on the Holocaust is important, and we must ensure we combat the decline in knowledge about what happened. But I think we should do more. Engaging today with that which they tried to destroy—our literature, our practices, Yiddish, our food—is a way to both honor and remember, and an act of triumph and defiance against those who wanted and want us dead.

To my fellow Jews, I have no interest in preaching how to be a Jew. Whether it's secular and atheistic or growing payos and studying Talmud, I just suggest passionately that you be a Jew with pride.

To everyone, Jewish or not, I would suggest studying Jewish history outside of the Holocaust, as told by Jews. Read Jewish literature that isn't about the Holocaust. Understand us as artists, poets, thinkers, families, as fully human, rather than a tragic moment.

A note I ended my presentations on was the humanity of others. It is so vital to truly realize that the person you hate most in life is as fully human as yourself. This isn't only necessary in remembering those lost in the Holocaust. It is also essential to how we view the Nazis. Every guard, every officer, was a human with a full inner life and friends. You may well have gotten along with some. It's easy for people to see themselves in the Jews—just ask an anti-vaxxer—but harder to be willing to recognize that same humanity in the Nazis, in Hitler. We must not see these people as mere historical monsters, for it creates a fiction that prevents us from honestly confronting what happened and ensuring we never let it happen again. Nazism was both deeply inhumane and unfortunately human. We cannot afford to dehumanize this enemy, as it creates a fictitious line between our present and our past. We must actively work to flush the faintest hint of the Nazism from each other, ourselves, and our society. We must actively confront hatred and violence, by the state and by individuals. It did not exist in a vacuum, killed by time. Confront hate when you see it in others. Confront yourself on the people you don't really see as people first. Maybe it's Muslims. Maybe it's prisoners. Maybe the homeless. Maybe it's Jews. Maybe it's Palestinians. Maybe illegal immigrants. Maybe the disabled. Maybe it's people you disagree with politically. Whoever it may be, recognize within yourself the potential to hate, and then act tirelessly to remove it. Empathy is an act of love and defiance.

Never Again.

[ekaterinatepes]

Nothing But The Best

Author Notes: once again I apologize for how long this took to update. Schedule is still hectic and will remain so for the following month or so. But fear not. I shall continue to update at least once a week. Once again reblogs and comments are appreciated!

XVI

Our ability to survive depends on our skill to change and adapt. Everything in life is about transformation.

The drastic changes in your life seemed like a never ending avalanche of heart break and tough decisions… once again, transformation.

Your own choices placed you exactly where you were at, there was no one else to blame but yourself.

Satoru chose to remain in New York for another two weeks during which he had invested himself into re-discovering you (in his mind you never stopped being his. In the sanctuary of his thoughts you are always referred to as his wife, his one and only Mrs. Y/N Gojo. The woman of his life and owner of his heart).

Satoru tried a gentle approach with you. Not wanting to push you too far not to leave you alone all together. Using all his knowledge of your personality and preferences he slowly inserted himself in your life once again.

At 5:30am sharp he would meet you at the entrance of your building wearing his training clothes, he wanted to show you he supported you and your career. He would go for a run with you around the park. This, of course evoked memories of when you both first started dating and Satoru would show up to workout with you or take you out to dinner after training.

You got to know he had been working harder to help Yuuji control the curse inside him but it was a hard endeavor. He didn’t have to specifically verbalize it for you to know it was a loosing battle and he felt responsible for it but he was trying his best to find a way to help the boy. You missed the kids, they were like family. So you made sure to ask Satoru to tell them you missed them.

But despite your ex-husband’s best efforts you still wanted to be alone. You needed some clarity, the opportunity to sort out your feelings. Gojo wasn’t particularly thrilled with you pushing him away but he promised to you and himself that he would change and would do an effort to respect your wishes so he gave you your space.

But Satoru wasn’t stupid, he knew you missed Suguru and felt guilty for choosing your own husband (ex-husband) over your best friend.

And that’s why you kept pushing him away. Saying you needed time to think.

His time was running out, he had to return to Japan. At least for now, he had unavoidable responsibilities with his students as well as the rest of his missions. He went to your apartment the night before his flight and explained to you why he had to return but he also promised to come back to New York as soon as possible.

“It’s alright Satoru, I understand… I’m gonna be just fine” you reassured the sorcerer who didn’t look convinced at all about leaving you alone. “Please, at least answer my calls and messages. I’m gonna be worried sick if you don’t” you nodded and then he hugged you tightly, inhaling your intoxicating aroma as if he wanted to commit it to memory. His lips soon found yours and before either of you knew it you were in your bed ripping off each other’s clothes so you could express with your bodies how much exactly you would miss one another.

He had taken you for granted once, he would never make that same mistake.

-

-1 Week Later-

It had been three weeks since you last saw Suguru, he wouldn’t answer your calls, texts nor your emails. You didn’t even know if he was still in New York for that matter. Not knowing was slowly killing you, consumed by guilt you knew you deserved this treatment.

And yet, you wanted to find him and explain… try to make it up to him somehow. He didn’t deserve the pain you had inflicted upon him.

-

From: Kitten 🐱

To: Sugu

I need to talk to you, please give me a chance to explain. I don’t want to lose you Suguru. I know it’s selfish on my behalf but I can’t let you walk away without explaining. Please Suguru.

I miss you.

-

Another message sent, he wouldn’t answer your texts. At least he didn’t block your phone number. (Not yet, supplied your tortured mind)

The whole reason why you held back from actually having sex with Suguru although you both had wanted that very much during the last 6 months was because you wanted to give Geto everything. Not only half of you. He deserved someone who would chose him completely. At least that’s what you knew was right.

You didn’t want to toy with his emotions. Then again Satoru’s sporadic presence in your life didn’t help at all. Everytime he showed up you were back to the beginning.

There was no other way to explain this other than saying…you could never resist him.

-

It was a Monday evening, you just got home after your training at the academy. Sitting on the couch eating some salad when the doorbell rang. You were not expecting anyone. And most importantly someone who didn’t need to be announced by the guard downstairs. There were only two people who could show up at your door in such fashion.

When you opened the door the first thing you saw was a broad torso covered in a very familiar black fitted t-shirt. Long black hair framing a handsome face and those beautiful amber pools looking at you. Without hesitation you threw your arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. Suguru responded to your embrace by surrounding your firmly in his arms lifting you a few inches from the floor.

His sweet lavender and sage scent welcomed your senses once more. It wasn’t until he dried the tears from your cheeks that you realized you had been crying.

“Yo..you are here… Suguru! I am so sorry! I-“ he stopped you by placing his right index finger upon your lips. “You don’t have to say anything. I am here because I have to tell you something important. Come Kitten, let us sit” he took your hand and guided you to the couch where as soon as you both sat next to one another you threw yourself into his arms once more making the raven haired sorcerer chuckle “I missed you too Kitten” he whispers against your h/c tresses.

“Listen…. I was angry… I was mad at you because I thought you would choose me and instead chose Satoru. But these past weeks without you, I have been a wreck to say the least and then I realized… I have always known you loved Satoru from the beginning and that never bothered me before.” Sighing he made a small pause before continuing “Granted… I do resent him for hurting you but I never expected you to completely loose your feelings for him.“ you were about to explain to him that you were trying to sort those feelings out but he interrupted you with a little kiss on your lips “let me finish Kitten” a tender smile spread across his lips making you blush again.

“I realized that I don’t want to renounce to you, I don’t want to give you up. Because there simply is no other person who I want to be with. No one can replace you. And you don’t have to choose between Satoru and me…. At least on my behalf I am ok with sharing you with him. I don’t want to lose you and I don’t want to put you in a position that only will hurt your heart.” Stroking your cheek softly Suguru leaned in and kissed your lips once more, just this time the exchange was sweeter and lasted longer. His tongue teased the entrance to your mouth before fully delving in to revel in your warmth and sweetness. Pulling back and looking into your eyes Geto assured you “I love you… and I want you to be happy. I am not going to make you choose because I don’t want to lose you Y/N”.

To say you were shocked to the core and touched beyond words was an understatement “Suguru… I don’t know what to say…” you start but Geto chuckled

“You don’t have to give me an answer right away.. I und—-“

You cut him by crushing your lips against his, kissing him throughly. Your legs straddled his waist immediately so you could feel his strong and warm body against yours. Was this man even real? I mean… Suguru Geto was a remarkable person but at this point you started questioning your own sanity. Did you make this man up in your imagination? Because you have never met someone sweeter, nor kinder nor more loving than him. And this was without counting all his very alluring physical attributes.

By the time you pulled back you were out of breath and so was he.

Now, the thing was… is this what you wanted? Did you want them both? Wasn’t it too greedy to have them both as lovers?

There was also the possibility Satoru would flat out reject the idea but… you didn’t want to choose between them. You…. Loved them both.

Before you could speak once more you ‘felt’ someone behind you stroking your back.

Almost jumping out of your skin you turned around to find Satoru in his usual jujutsu high uniform sans blindfold.

“You’re late…” Suguru comments as if he had been expecting his best friend to teleport right then.

“I know… Yaga was being a pain in the ass as per usual” added Satoru with a grin before taking a sit next to Suguru with the biggest shit eating grin you could imagine.

“So? Did she agree?” Questioned smirking and moving his hand to stroke your hair away from your neck while you still sat on Suguru’s lap.

“I am not sure… I think we broke her…” added Geto amusedly before chuckling and kissing your cheek.

“I know how to fix that!” Excitedly announced the white haired man. Cupping your face between his hands he pulled you in to kiss you deeply. His tongue voraciously licking the inside of your mouth and enticing you to kiss him back.

This was surreal…. Were you dreaming? You had to be dreaming or maybe you hit your head and now we’re in a coma. Yeah… you have to be hallucinating this.

When Satoru pulled back he laughed “Princess… don’t look so surprised… you must have known this would have happened sooner or later… Sug and I would never give you up and we know you wouldn’t pick one over the other either… and well, we didn’t want to give you the chance to pick neither…” they knew exactly how you were. Even before you knew it yourself. They just knew you would bolt and choose no one if that meant not hurting the other so they had to figure out a solution where all of you were happy.

Tags: @sleepyamaya

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[epicene-humanoid]

some trans Jeff thoughts:

he realized he was trans in elementary school and just went fuck it I'll just start introducing myself as Jeffery and see if anyone decides to stop me (as we know, jeff winger can get away with almost anything)

he got top surgery the second he could afford it (around the same time he started at his law firm), and probably bribed someone to keep it a secret

"I'm jeff winger and i would rather look at myself naked than the women I sleep with" are the words of a man proud of his transition

he's really insecure about his fashion sense, which is why he mostly dresses like the douchey guys at his firm in the start of the show, he thought you can't go wrong with the sleazy lawyer look

he will never admit it but he feels super good about the dean hitting on him, because the dean is a (cis) guy, acknowledging that Jeff is more manly than him

i think he starts out stealth and comes out to everyone one by one, probably starting with abed because he knows abed won't judge him and will probably just see it as an interesting backstory.

abed just says it's cool and maybe worth a prequel exploring Jeff's transition, and jeff asks him to predict how all of the members of the group will react to him coming out.

abed's predictions:

britta will be over-the-top supportive and do a ton of research about trans history, probably put together a slideshow just to prove how progressive she is, and jeff will be a little bit weirded out, but also touched that she did all that for him, though he would never let her know that

shirley will be confused, because she doesn't know how someone she trusts and knows so well could be part of a group she was raised to hate, but ultimately realizes that there's nothing actually against the lgbtq people in the bible, and, as a cool character development arch, starts to advocate against use of the bible to justify bigotry

troy will just think it over and decide that Jeff's physique and coolness are even awesomer knowing how much work he'd had to put in to be like that, and respects Jeff's manliness even more

annie will give him a hug, say something sweet about how she'll always love him, and worry about his health, because even she read somewhere that taking testosterone makes you more likely to have a heart attack, jeff will explain that the risk is still only as high a cis guy, and she'll be the one to always remind him to take his shots

peirce will say at best say "jeff winger used to be a chick?" and at worst call him a slur, either way there's sure to be a lot of misgendering from him, and pestering to know Jeff's deadname (needless to say, Jeff just doesn't tell peirce)

the whole group goes out of their way to keep their beach trips a secret from pierce (the girls don't want him there anyways, he's too liable to be creepy) even though jeff knows that even if pierce saw his scars, all he would have to do is make up a story about some childhood accident and pierce would never question it

sorry this ended up being super long. can I hear some of your headcanons for him?

YES ALL THIS!!! yes yes i’m fully accepting this as canon oh my god

i’m about to type a whole ass ESSAY at midnight because i have been DYING to talk about this for months ajfdksljk,,, this is going to be obscenely long and i might end up adding even more to it as i continue to rewatch the show because there is truly no shortage of trans jeff content (especially when you’re trans and see transness in every little thing ajdkslfkjs)

spoiler warning for literally everything about this show under the cut <3

i 100% agree, i feel like he realized he was trans super young, especially since in the show we see him as a little kid a couple of times. 

like look at little jeff with the oversized sweatshirt and little ponytail!! that’s childhood trans fashion. not to be dramatic but part of me thinks that jeff’s dad left before he fully came out to his family (which gives him even more angst about it, because until that one Thanksgiving episode, he’s never able to prove to his dad that he’s a better man), but part of me thinks that his dad left after he came out (which adds that spicy i-should-have-stayed-in-the-closet guilt that he has to work through). 

either way, because his dad wasn’t there, he had to base his concept of masculinity on something else, which was becoming a lawyer!! there’s some line that’s like “after the dust and divorce papers were settled the only man i looked up to was [the lawyer guy]”. like, replacing your father figure in your mind with the concept of “a job where you can talk your way in and out of anything and distort other people’s concept of reality”? that’s trans.

 and the fucking THANKSGIVING EPISODE... i struggle to watch it without crying hehe <3 yeowch! the dichotomy of willy jr. being the “wrong” kind of man because he’s “too soft” but jeff also not being enough despite adhering to all the social standards of masculinity... fuck!! this whole scene of him telling his dad “i am Not well adjusted” and talking about how he gave himself an “appendix surgery scar” when he was a kid and he still keeps the get-well-soon letters from his classmates under his bed? oh my god. the implication of people loving him not despite his scars but because of them?? trans. i can’t think about this episode for too long or i’ll start yelling.

OH and this scene? where he talks about how his mom got him a girl costume for halloween?? and everyone said “what a cute little girl” and after a few houses he stopped correcting them?? and “once the shame and the fear wore off, i was just glad they thought i was pretty”?? THAT’S TRANS... the man needs validation oh my god... and then in all the halloween episodes we see he has these ultra-masculine costumes (a cowboy, David Beckham, one of the fast and furious guys even though he never watched the movies, a boxer with his DAD’S boxing gloves... god) costumes are about becoming something else and he always chooses to be hypermasculine and that is trans.

THE PHYSICAL EDUCATION EPISODE!!!!!!! being uncomfortable during P.E. is a queer experience. period. but him being specifically uncomfortable in the clothes someone else is assigning to him? trans. “are we gonna talk about clothes like a girl? or use tapered sticks to hit balls around a cushioned mat like a man?” TRANS. and him eventually stripping in public? celebration of transness. and the fact that he eventually becomes comfortable in both the uniform and his own style!! trans!! god i love this episode. 

AND AND AND!!! the gay dean coming out episode!!! where it’s the three of them discussing the best way for the dean to come out as gay despite not entirely identifying with that label!! so we have both frankie and the dean who are sort of ambiguously queer, and jeff who’s a stealth trans man who’s probably only out to only the study group at this point. this scene where the dean and jeff have this like eyebrow communication while frankie is talking is just so cute. queer-to-queer communication. “I am so curious” “oh?” “intellectually.” “oh...” ajfdksljfk this scene just screams high school GSA to me and i love it so much.

and SPEAKING of the dean!! i totally see you on that. i feel like jeff has some internalized homophobia/biphobia (like he’d throw punches over someone else, but when it comes to himself he has a lot of shame). and also seeing the dean so confident in all his different outfits/costumes has a weird affect on him bc it’s like “okay, the dean, a cis guy, can do that, but i as a trans guy could Not because that’s Breaking the Rules”. which, like, throwback to the halloween thing. of course there’s no right way to be masculine, but mr. winger does not know that.

another thing!! the episode where their emails get leaked? that includes his emails with his therapist. fuck!! he was outed to the whole world in that episode!! no wonder he was so fucking angry!! this whole episode (and really any time he mentions his therapist) is so interesting when you think about them as a person he talks to about his transition. OH which adds to the thing with the dean!! “and you told your therapist you wanted to be alone this weekend” and “not you jeff, i know you’ll be visiting your dad” ”I told you to stop reading my emails”. luckily his study group has his back and just makes fun of him for emailing astronauts lmao

and WHO can forget “they’re giving out an award for most handsome young man!!!!” what else is there to say about this line besides: he’s trans. you know he didn’t get awarded enough for being a handsome young man when he was a kid, and no amount of compliments when he’s fully-grown can really make up for that. some people crash a kid’s bar mitzvah to cope with the fact that they struggled to be seen as themselves when they were a teenager <3

also his weird relationship with pierce? where he kind of hates him (understandably lmao) but at times has this almost-friends-almost-father-son relationship with him? especially in this episode where he’s forced to bond with him and ends up having a good time by accident (at a barber shop no less, the perfect place to Be A Man with your Man Friend). idk what to say about him besides the fact that pierce says his mom wanted a girl when he was born and made him dress like a girl (and his middle name is anastasia!) so if they’re gonna do any bonding over transness it’s gonna be that. 

okay one last thing and then i’ll shut up for the night. this episode kills me (and almost kills jeff hahahahelpi’mcrying). it’s a very Trans thing to not be able to visualize your future self, it just is. growing up trans at the time he did? i don’t know what kind of future he saw for himself, but i’m so happy that he ended up with a group of friends who became his family and love him the way they all do. i’m so emotional over this asshole it’s ridiculous. 

in conclusion:

they’re trans, your honor <3

[skellebonez]

So, I have a weird request: Mei, Jin and Yin with 28 and 50. I fell victim of my own au and now I just want these three to be friends and cause mayhem.

Ok, you both sent me these SO CLOSE TOGETHER BY CHANCE that I had to combine them. This is the most prompts I have shoved into one fill and I consider this an achievement.

You call this luck? No, this is all skill./That cute act is all just a lie./I was not expecting that to work as well as it did./Ok, who gave out my number? I have 12 missed calls, 4 voicemails, and 75 unread texts!/No, listen, hear me out. All we need is some really good disguises.

“Ok, who gave out my number?” Mei asked as she slammed the door to Jin and Yin’s workshop open with a harsh kick that sent it slamming into the wall, a scowl on her face. She wasn’t particularly angry, just annoyed, but they didn’t have to know that yet. “I have 12 missed calls, 4 voicemails, and 75 unread texts! I had to change my number because before I cleared the first set of notifications I had over 80 each!”

“How do you know it was us?” Jin asked defensively from his spot sitting on the nearest table, and Mei allowed her face to fall into an deadpan expression, raising just one eyebrow.”... ok, fair, it was Yin.”

“Hey!” Yin yelped as he rolled out on a skateboard from... whatever in the world it was he was working on. “Why are you calling me out like this? I thought you were my brother!”

Mei watched at the two got up from where they sat, getting in each other’s faces and arguing about “brotherly betrayal” and if she was being honest Mei almost thought that this would have been nearly enough to make up for her needing to change her number for the first time in years. Almost. It was when Jin yelled “That cute act is all just a lie!” and Yin gasped in offense that she decided she had enough amusement for the moment and whistled as loud as she could to get the twin’s attention.

“Alright gentlemen, may I ask why my phone number was leaked in the first place?” Mei asked slowly, gaze firmly centered on Yin.

“... In my defense, I didn’t post it publicly,” Yin said as he held up his hands in surrender. “I only gave it to one person and they said they were a friend of yours because I needed some tech they had and they said it was payment for the favor!”

“One person made 82 calls?” Jin asked with a look of disbelief and horror on his face. “Who has time for 82 phone calls?”

“They’re all spam bot calls and texts, it isn- Wait, go back a second,” Mei held up a hand, gesturing for Yin to speak again. “Who said they were a friend of mine?”

“A streamer guy, Bo-something?”

“BoFullStrike,” Mei said with venom lacing her words, a low growl sounding in the depths of her check. “Of course it was Bo, he’s been trying to get back at me for beating him at his best game for like 2 weeks now since our crossover stream like the sore loser that he is. He’s been trying to spam my email this entire time, apparently spam is how he gets revenge.”

“Is his name actually Bo?” Yin asked in curiosity.

“No, it’s just his screen name, but lets not get distracted!” Mei smirked, walking up to the twins and putting her arms around their necks in a half hug each. “To make up for ruining my phone, and because you like me, you two are going to help me get back at him so he will just leave me in peace.”

“Uh,” Jin and Yin looked at each other, then back at Mei and Jin continued. “Is, you know... Macaque gonna have to know about this? We’re already kind of in deep water with him as it is and-”

“No, listen, hear me out. All we need is some really good disguises.”

“And why am I being pulled into this?” Jin asked with a sigh.

“You two are a package deal.”

~

Mei had to admit, when the demon bros had someone who knew how to make a plan for them? They were scary good at what they could do. All three of their technological knowledge combined was a terrifying force to behold, and Mei could see they weren’t too shabby with designing things they weren’t tech itself either. The three of them, both Jin and Yin in their human forms, were disguised so well that Mei almost didn’t recognize her own reflection in her wig and make up. It was perfect!

What was also perfect was the absolute chaos erupting in the internet cafe they had tracked BoFullStrike down to. He really should take internet security a little more seriously, it was far too easy...

Just as it was far too easy to remote connect to the computer he was using to practice his gaming in on an alt account and completely mess with all of his controls and download some nasty nasty viruses onto it from the other side of the building. They weren’t anything too hard for the cafe to get rid of, and it wasn’t anything that would affect the entire computer network, but it was just enough to make the cafe owner pissed off enough to kick him out (that would have made her feel bad if she didn’t know Bo also lived on his own in his own house on his parent’s dime and only came here so no one would track his ISP to alt accounts, and that there were 20 other such cafes in the city for him to move to).

Now the other streamer was angrily stomping out of the building passing by the chaos trio and would have not even been aware of their involvement had Jin and Yin not yanked him half a foot into the (admittedly brightly lit and easy to see into) alleyway beside the cafe.

“Hey, BO,” Mei said with a smirk as the twins held an arm each for extra security. Like bouncers. Or very strange bodyguards she didn’t actually need. “Still angry I beat you in front of all your followers huh?”

“You!” Bo, or whatever his actual name was Mei didn’t care enough about this to remember that, said after a moment of confusion when he recognized her voice. “You humiliated me on purpose! Just like last time!”

“This time yes, that time? No, you humiliated yourself behind the scenes when you started trying to sign me up for car insurance scams,” Mei said with a sigh. “Look, guy, just leave me alone. No one except you cares that I beat you in a few matches at a game I was already on the leader boards for.”

“You just got lucky!” He scoffed, pulling his arms and tensing with a fearful look as he realized he couldn’t move.

“You call this luck? No, this is all skill,” Mei said with a smirk as she held up her phone and Bo’s face went white as a sheet at the information scrolling on the screen. “Yeah, you should probably invest in something. Like a firewall. A VPN. Literally anything. This was not hard to find at all. Dude, I kinda feel bad that you’re so bad at tech security so I am doing you a favor, just leave me alone and I will literally give you a high tech security system and never speak to you again.”

“Or... what?” Bo said with a shake. “You’ll post all my info online?”

“Hell no!” Mei winced with a disgusted look, shaking her head. “You’re being an asshole, but I’m not evil! I was just gonna sign you up for spam too until you took my offer. Ew.”

“Oh... well... I guess... sure?” The man looked mostly confused more than anything else, shrugging as much as he could before Jin and Yin let him go. “That’s... really it?”

“Yeah, dude, I didn’t want that much revenge just a little bit. Like I said, stop signing me up for spam and I will never speak to you ever again.”

“... OK,” Bo said, and yelped as Mei tossed some kind of USB drive at him. “Uh-”

“You have everything you need in there,” Mei said with a shrug, waving him off.

Bo shrugged again, still looking incredibly confused as he ran off, muttering something like “ok maybe that was kind of badass I guess” under his breathe.

“I was not expecting that to work as well as it did,” Mei said with a laugh, holding up both hands to either side. “Good job, my dudes, you are off the hook.”

Both twin’s palms met her own in very satisfying high fives, and all three thought they should totally team up for stuff like this more often.

(The next day BoFullStrike sent her an actual email with a proper apology.)

[causeiwanttoandican]

Harry, Meghan and me: my truth as a royal reporter

I've covered elections and extremism, but nothing compares to the vitriol I've received since I started writing about the Sussexes

By Camilla Tominey, Associate Editor27 March 2021 • 6:00am

It is probably worth mentioning from the outset that I never, ever, planned to become a royal reporter. I mean, who does? It’s one of those ridiculous jobs most people fall into completely by accident.

I certainly wasn’t coveting the position when I first found out how bonkers the beat could be after covering Charles and Camilla’s wedding in 2005. Desperate for ‘a line’ on what went on at the reception, journalists were reduced to flagging down passing cars in Windsor High Street and interrogating the likes of Stephen Fry about whether they’d had the salmon or the chicken.

Watergate, this wasn’t.

Yet when my former editor called me into his office shortly afterwards and offered me the royal job ‘because you’re called Camilla and you dress nicely’, who was I to refuse?

Having planned to get married myself that summer, and start a family soon afterwards, I looked to the likes of Jennie Bond and Penny Junor and figured it would be a good patch for a working mother as well as being one I could grow old with. Unlike show business, when celebrities are ‘in’ one minute and ‘out’ the next, the royals would stay the same, making it easier to build – and keep – contacts.

So if you’d told me that 16 years later, I would find myself at the centre of a media storm over a royal interview with Oprah Winfrey, I’d have probably laughed in your face. First of all, only royals like Fergie do interviews with Oprah. And since when did journalists become the story?

Yet as I have experienced since the arrival of Meghan Markle on the royal scene in 2016 – a move that roughly coincided with Twitter doubling its 140-character limitation to 280 – royal reporters like me now find themselves in the line of fire like never before.

We are used to the likes of Kate Adie coming under attack in the Middle East, but now it is the correspondents who write up events like Trooping the Colour and the Royal Windsor Horse Show having to take cover from the keyboard warriors supposedly defending the Duke and Duchess of Sussex’s ‘truth’.

Accusations of racism have long been levelled against anyone who has dared to write less than undiluted praise of Harry and Meghan. But even I have been taken aback by the vitriol on social media in the wake of the couple’s televised two-hour talk-a-thon, in which they branded both the Royal family and the British press racist while complaining about their ‘almost unsurvivable’ multimillionaire lives at the hands of the evil monarchy. And all while the rest of the UK were losing their loved ones and livelihoods in a global pandemic.

Having covered Brexit, general elections and stories about Islamic extremism, I’ve grown used to being sprayed with viral vomit on a fairly regular basis, but when you’ve got complete strangers trolling your best friend’s Instagram feed by association? That’s Britney Spears levels of toxic.

Having a hind thicker than a rhino’s, it wasn’t the repeated references to my being ‘a total c—’ that particularly bothered me, nor even the suggestion that I should have my three children put up for adoption. At one point someone even said it would be a good idea for me to drink myself to death like my mother, about whose chronic alcoholism I have written extensively.

No, what really got me was the appalling spelling and grammar. I mean, if you’re going to hurl insults, at least have the decency to get my name right.

Yet in order to understand just how it has come to pass that so-called #SussexSquaders think nothing of branding all royal correspondents ‘white supremacists’ regardless of who they write for, or sending hate mail to our email addresses, offices – and in some cases, even our homes – it’s worth briefly going to back to when I first broke the story that Prince Harry was dating an American actor in the Sunday Express on 31 October 2016. Headlined: ‘Royal world exclusive: Harry’s secret romance with TV star’, the splash revealed how the popular prince was ‘secretly dating a stunning US actress, model and human rights campaigner’.

Despite my now apparently being on a par with the Ku Klux Klan for failing to acknowledge Meghan as the next messiah, it was actually not until the fifteenth paragraph of that original article that the ‘confident and intelligent’ Northwestern University graduate was described as ‘the daughter of an African-American mother and a father of Dutch and Irish descent’.

Call me superficial, but I was genuinely far more interested in the fact that Harry ‘I-come-with-baggage’ Wales was dating a former ‘briefcase girl’ from the US version of Deal or No Deal than the colour of her skin. A ginger prince punching well above his weight? This was the stuff of tabloid dreams. Little did I know then that covering the trials and tribulations of these two lovebirds would turn into such a nightmare.

The online hostility began bubbling up about eight days after that first story, when Harry’s then communications secretary Jason Knauf issued an ‘unprecedented’ statement accusing the media of ‘crossing a line’.

‘His girlfriend, Meghan Markle, has been subject to a wave of abuse and harassment’, it read, referencing a ‘smear on the front page of a national newspaper; the racial undertones of comment pieces; and the outright sexism and racism of social media trolls and web article comments’. Meghan’s mother, Doria Ragland, had apparently been besieged by photographers, while bribes had been offered to Meghan’s ex-boyfriend along with ‘the bombardment of nearly every friend, coworker, and loved one in her life’.

Suffice to say, I did feel a bit guilty. Although I hadn’t written anything remotely racist or sexist, I had started the ball rolling for headlines like the MailOnline’s ‘(Almost) straight outta Compton’ (referencing a song by hip-hop group NWA about gang violence and Meghan’s upbringing in the nearby LA district of Crenshaw), along with her ‘exotic’ DNA (which I subsequently called out, including on This Morning in the wake of ‘Megxit’ in January last year).

Omid Scobie, co-author of Finding Freedom, a highly favourable account of the Sussexes’ departure from the Royal family, written with their cooperation last summer, would later insist that the couple knew the story of their relationship was coming out and were well prepared for it.

I can tell you categorically that they weren’t, since I did not even put a call into Kensington Palace before we went to press for fear of it being leaked. (I did later discuss this with Harry, when I covered his trip to the Caribbean in November 2016, and to be fair he was pretty philosophical, agreeing it would have come out sooner or later. But that was before the former Army Captain decided to well and truly shoot the messenger, latterly telling journalists covering the newly-weds’ tax-payer-funded October 2018 tour of Australia and the south Pacific: ‘Thanks for coming, even though you weren’t invited.’)

The royal press pack is the group of dedicated writers who cover all the official engagements and tours on a rota system, in exchange for not bothering the royals as they go about their private business. It was a shame this ragtag bunch, of which I am an associate member, was never personally introduced to Meghan when the couple got engaged in November 2017.

I still have fond memories of a then Kate Middleton, upon her engagement to Prince William in November 2010, showing me her huge sapphire and diamond ring following a press conference at St James’s Palace with the words, ‘It was William’s mother’s so it is very special.’

I replied that she might want to consider buying ‘one of those expanding accordion style file holders’ to organise all her wedding paperwork. (Reader, I had given birth to my second child less than four months earlier and was still lactating.)

Not meeting Meghan did not stop royal commentators like me writing reams about her being ‘a breath of fresh air’ and telling practically every TV show I appeared on that she was the ‘best thing to have happened to the Royal Family in years’.

As the world followed the joyous news of the Windsors’ resident strip billiards star having finally found ‘the one’, the couple enjoyed overwhelmingly positive press culminating in their fairy-tale wedding in May 2018, which we headlined ‘So in love’ above a picture of the bride and groom kissing. I tweeted the wedding front page, along with the original story breaking the news of their relationship with the words, ‘Job done’. Yet, as Meghan would later point out in a glossy Santa Barbara garden, that was by far the end of the story.

According to the Duchess’s testimony before a global audience of millions, the seeds for their royal departure were actually sown by an article I wrote in November 2018 suggesting she made Kate cry during a bridesmaid’s dress fitting for Princess Charlotte.

Claiming the ‘reverse happened’, the former Suits star railed, ‘A few days before the wedding she was upset about something, pertaining to, yes, the issue was correct, about flower-girl dresses, and it made me cry, and it really hurt my feelings.’

She then went on to criticise the palace for failing to correct the story – suggesting that royal aides had hung her out to dry to protect the Duchess of Cambridge.

All of which left me in a bit of a sticky situation. As I told Phillip Schofield on This Morning the following day, ‘I don’t write things I don’t believe to be true and that haven’t been really well sourced.’

Having seemingly been completely bowled over by Meghan’s version of events, Schofe then went for the jugular: ‘I have to say, though, that’s all addressed in that interview, isn’t it, because she [Meghan] couldn’t understand why nobody stood up for her?’

Yet someone had stood up for her, on that very same This Morning sofa: me.

As I told Phil and Holly on 14 January 2019, as more reports of ‘Duchess Difficult’ started to emerge, ‘I think she [Meghan] is doing really well, she looks amazing, she speaks well. She has played a blinder.’

So you’ll forgive me if I can’t quite understand why Meghan didn’t feel the need to correct this supposedly glaring error once she had her own dedicated head of communications from March 2019 – or indeed when she ‘collaborated’ with Scobie, who concluded in his bestselling hagiography that ‘no one cried’?

Moreover, how did the Duchess know a postnatal Kate wasn’t ‘left in tears’? And if she doesn’t know, what hope has the average troll observing events through the prism of their own deep-rooted insecurities?

It appears the actual truth ceases to matter once sides have been taken in the unedifying Team Meghan versus Team Kate battle that has divided the internet.

Make no mistake, there are abject morons at both extremes spewing the sort of bile that, ironically, makes most of the media coverage of Harry and Meghan look like a 1970s edition of Jackie magazine.

It perhaps didn’t help my case that the day before the interview was aired in the US, I had written a lengthy piece carefully weighing up the evidence behind allegations of ‘outrageous bullying’ that had been levelled against Meghan during what proved to be a miserable 20 months in the Royal family for all concerned.

The messages – to my Twitter feed, my email, my website and official Facebook page – ranged from the threatening, to the typical tropes about media ‘scum’ and the downright bizarre. Some accused me of being in cahoots with Carole Middleton, with whom I have never interacted, unless you count a last-minute Party Pieces purchase in a desperate moment of poor parental planning.

Another frequent barb was questioning why the press wasn’t writing about that ‘pedo’ [sic] Prince Andrew instead – seemingly oblivious to the fact that no one would know about the Duke of York’s links to Jeffrey Epstein if it wasn’t for the acres of coverage devoted to the story by us royal hacks over recent years.

It didn’t matter that I had repeatedly torn the Queen’s second, and, some say, favourite son to pieces for everything from his propensity to take his golf clubs on foreign tours to that disastrous Newsnight interview.

Contrary to the ‘invisible contract’ Harry claims the palace has with the press, royal coverage works roughly like this: good royal deeds = good publicity. Bad royal deeds = bad publicity. We effectively act as a critical friend, working on behalf of a public that rightly expects the royals to take the work – but not themselves – seriously.

So when a royal couple preaches about climate change before taking four private jets in 11 days, it is par for the course for a royal scribe to point out the inconsistency of that message. None of it is ever personal, as evidenced by the fact that practically every member of the monarchy has come in for flak over the years.

If Oprah wasn’t willing to point out the discrepancies in Harry and Meghan’s testimony, surely it is beholden on royal reporters to question how the Duchess had managed to undertake four foreign holidays in the six months after her wedding, in addition to official tours to Italy, Canada, and Amsterdam, as well as embarking on a lengthy honeymoon, if she had ‘turned over’ her passport?

While no one would wish to undermine the extent of her mental health problems, could it really be true that she only left the house twice in four months when she managed to cram in 73 days’ worth of engagements, according to the Court Circular, in the 17 months between her wedding and the couple’s departure to Canada?

And what of the ‘racist’ headlines flashed up during the interview purporting to be from the British press, when more than a third were actually taken from independent blogs and the foreign media? The UK media abides by the Independent Press Standards Organisation’s Code of Conduct ‘to avoid prejudicial or pejorative reference to an individual’s race’, as well as by rigorous defamation laws. And rightly so – the British press doesn’t always get it right. But social media is the Wild West by comparison, publishing vile slurs on a daily basis with impunity.

Some therefore find it strange that such a litigious couple would claim to have been ‘silenced’ when they have made so many complaints, including resorting to legal action, over stories they claim not to have even read. There is something similarly contradictory about a couple accusing the tabloids of lacking self-reflection while refusing to take any blame at all – for anything.

In any normal world, informed writing on such matters would be classed as fair comment, but not, seemingly, on Twitter where those completely lacking any objectivity whatsoever are only too willing to virtue signal and manoeuvre.

As the trolling reached fever pitch in the aftermath of the interview, veteran royal reporter Robert Jobson of the Evening Standard called me. ‘Don’t respond to these freaks,’ he advised. ‘It’s getting nasty out there. Watch your back!’

Yet despite my general sense of bewilderment at the menacing Megbots, I can’t say it didn’t appal me to discover a close friend had received online abuse, purely by dint of being my mate. After discussing the lengths the troll must have gone to to track her down, she asked me, ‘Do you ever worry someone might do something awful to you?’ Er, not until now, no.

Of course it’s upsetting, even for a cynical old-timer like me. Worse still are people who actually know me casting aspersions on my profession on social media. Often these are the same charlatans who would think nothing of sidling up to me for the latest gossip on the Royal family, while publicly pretending that reading any such coverage is completely beneath them.

Most pernicious of all though – not least after Piers Morgan’s departure from Good Morning Britain following a complaint to ITV and Ofcom from the Duchess – is the corrosive effect this whole hullabaloo is having on freedom of speech. When you’ve got a former actor effectively editing a British breakfast show from an £11 million Montecito mansion, what next?

I cannot help but think we are in danger of setting race relations back 30 years if people are seriously suggesting that any criticism of Meghan is racially motivated. It’s the hypocrisy that gets me. When Priti Patel was accused of bullying, the very same people who willingly hung the Home Secretary out to dry are now the ones defending Meghan against such claims, saying they have been levelled at her simply because she is ‘a strong woman of colour’.

Of course journalists should take responsibility for everything they report and be held to account for it – but Harry and Meghan do not have a monopoly on the truth simply because the close friend and neighbour who interviewed them in return for £7 million from CBS took what they said as gospel.

If she isn’t willing to probe the disparity between Meghan saying someone questioned the colour of Archie’s skin when she was pregnant, and Harry suggesting it happened before they were even married, then someone must. There’s a name for such scrutiny. It’s called journalism.

The public reserves the right to make up its own mind – with the help of the watchful eye of a free and fair press. But that press can never be free or fair if journalists do not feel they can report without fear or favour. I’m lucky that a lot of the criticism I face is more than balanced out by hugely supportive members of the public and online community who either agree – or respect the right to disagree. Along with the hate mail, I have had many thoughtful and eloquent missives, including those that good naturedly challenge what I have written in the paper or said on TV, which have genuinely given me pause for thought.

I am more than happy to enter into constructive discourse with these correspondents, who are frankly sometimes the only people who keep me on Twitter. I mean, let’s face it, I wouldn’t be anywhere near the bloody thing if this wasn’t my day job.

With the National Union of Journalists this month declaring that harassment and abuse had ‘become normalised’ within the industry, never have members of Britain’s press needed more courage. As Winston Churchill famously said, ‘You have enemies? Good. That means you’ve stood up for something, sometime in your life.’

Who would have thought that the preservation of the fundamental freedoms that we hold so dear should partially rest on the shoulders of those who follow around a 94-year-old woman and her family for a living?

If I’d known then what I know now, would I still have written the bridesmaid’s dress story?

Yes – doubtlessly reflecting sisterly sobs all round. But after two decades in this business, I am clear-eyed enough to know this for certain: whatever I had written, it would still have ended in tears.

[marueonmain]

Not Risking You ~ WillNE

Summary: Y/N is not aware just how much she and Will have in common. Will takes care of slightly injured Y/N.

Pairing: willne x reader

Warning: Fainting.

Word Count: 1.2k

Everyone is unique; that is not to mean everyone is special, but more literally, everyone is unique in at least some small aspect or another. Some have wisdom teeth, while others do not. Some have a normal temperature higher than the average thirty-seven degrees, while others run colder. And Y/N? Well, Y/N had an irregular heartbeat and lost consciousness if it spiked too high too quickly.

But it did not happen a lot. She could count on one hand – two hands if she were honest – the number of times it had happened in her adult life. So why bother telling anyone about her condition? If it was unlikely to happen, then it was not like anyone needed to know, right? Right?

It was early afternoon, and Y/N was late to the shooting of the second Eboys bake off. Y/N slipped into the large room, hugging the wall until she found a clear enough spot for herself. While getting her camera from its case and screwing on the correct lens, she thought she could feel eyes on her, but everyone was focused on the four boys at the front of the room when she looked up.

Y/N got to work as the sole photographer on the shoot – taking still shots for the thumbnail and, far more important, for promos on the boys’ individual social media and the group channel accounts. Everything was going fine; the video was not exactly a bake off as all the production emails she received had implied – it was a cook off. James again assigned the meals: chicken tikka masala for George, a shepherd's pie for Alex, toad in the hole for Will, and for himself, a traditional full English breakfast.

It was not a surprise to anyone that after the fiasco with the jam tart, Alex was given extra help for his meal in the shape of pre-made mashed potatoes. He picked up a knife to start chopping the carrots and onions, but before attempting a single cut, he looked out toward the cameras.

Alex asked, “Can someone cut this? It’ll take me ages.”

The other boys continued working on their own meals; there were no objections to Alex having made the request nor shouting that he was trying to cheat.

“I could,” Y/N piped up; she did not consider herself the speediest chef in the world but thought anyone would probably be faster than the inexperienced cook. Setting her camera back in its case, Y/N moved behind the counters at the front of the room, washed her hands, and took the knife from Alex.

About five slices into the first onion, she misplaced her hand and dragged the knife across her finger. Blood sprung from the cut and mixed with the small amount of remaining water on her hand to create an effect like she was bleeding more than she was. Y/N paled and stilled.

And it was not the blood – she was not afraid of blood. It was the accident's unexpectedness; the sudden onset sting of a cut splashed with onion juice sent her heart rate jumping. There was just a millisecond of wooziness before she lost consciousness.

~

Will had been stunting all afternoon in hopes of attracting the attention of the recently hired photographer. His posture was impeccable as he pushed his shoulders down and his chest out to appear more muscular. Not once did Will allow himself to slip into his resting face, as he plastered on his most handsome smile the entire shoot. He even attempted a spatula flip – which did not end as he planned.

A dream-like haze clouded his head, and weakness overtook his limbs each time his eyes caught hers. Like many men, he did not think he had a specific type; he did not consider himself picky in most situations. Women were women. If he could get with one that was good enough for him. But Y/N. Sweet Y/N, she was his type; she was everything he did not know he looked for in a woman. And it was…wow.

Therefore, Will was extremely jealous of Alex when Y/N stepped out from behind the camera to assist the shorter man. Will was upset that he had not thought to ask for help – that could have been him standing shoulder to shoulder with Y/N. Amidst his anger, Will heard Alex ask, “Are you ok?”

Will looked up from the sizzling sausages in his pan just in time to see Y/N drop quickly and heavily with her whole weight. Stuck in shock, no one moved – no one except Will. It was not even three seconds, and he was crashing to the floor himself to kneel at her side. Y/N was again conscious, that much was clear as, despite her closed eyes, a weak groan escaped her lips and her head rocked toward Will. All his experience with fainting, Will had never been on the other side, and it was terrifying. Y/N was not his, but he was scared like she was; he was hurt like he failed her in not protecting her from something he did not understand or even know about before that single fear-filled moment. 

Around the fallen pair were both whispered and raised voices expressing shock and confusion. Someone mentioned calling 999 until James commanded, “Hold on. Will, what do we do?” 

“Give me a minute,” Will replied, not looking up. 

Y/N was conscious but not fully awake. It was uncomfortable, and Will could not help feeling like a bit of a creep, but he knew what people had done to wake him up from his fainting episodes in the past. He reached a hand towards Y/N, apologized in his head, and began rubbing a circular pattern on her sternum. It had hurt (in the best sense) when other people did it to him, so he was not alarmed but actually relieved when Y/N let out a hissing groan at the contact. He spoke to her in a soft voice.

“It’s alright, Y/N. You just gotta wake up. All you gotta do is open your eyes. Can you do that?” Will bit his lip, contemplating his next move, before adding, “Open your eyes Y/N, please, for me?”

After about ten seconds, Y/N’s eyes fluttered open then closed. She pulled her arm up and covered her eyes. “Everyone is looking at me.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s ok.” Y/N moved to push herself up to a sitting position. “I’m alright, really.”

Will stopped Y/N from getting more than a few centimetres off the ground. He pushed her back down with gentle force. “No. Don’t jump up because you’re embarrassed about having attention on you. I’ll tell everyone to leave – I will – just don’t push yourself. I’m going to get you water and you’re going to drink as much as you need and we’re going to stay here as long as you need. I’m not risking you.”

Y/N felt her heartstrings being struck with each word out of his mouth, and as her eyes focused on Will, she thought she never before felt so understood. She never before felt so calm and confident being basked in the full attention of another. It was nice. It was something she wanted to get used to.

[sassyhobbits]

for one night standards would you write a scene where aelin cant be found in the castle maybe bc shes doing sth ridiculous with her daughter like a mother daughter photoshoot to surprise rowan with later but when rowan can't find her he gets all panicked and out of his mind bc he still has unresolved trauma from when she was kidnapped and its all angsty until he has both back in his arms but also gives rowan a chance to talk and work through his experience with aelin gone? (because lets face it he probably ignores his feelings about that as much as possible in order to not burden aelin further and because it was just too painful)

loved this idea!!! i also added the prompt “Because I know when I open my eyes this will all turn out to be a dream and I’ll lose you again“ Thank you to everyone who supported ONS!! i had such a fun time writing it and im always happy to come back to it. enjoy!!

~~~

Rowan Whitethorn was generally a patient man.

He knew how to wait his turn, to take his time. He was always one to raise a brow at those who seemed to be in a harried rush to everything. It seemed stressful, to say the least. He was perfectly content to sit back when needed.

Except for now.

He had made a trip back home to Doranelle to surprise Isolde for her graduation from her masters program. Aelin had wanted to come as well, but with the baby and the responsibilities she had back in Orynth, it just hadn’t worked out. Still, she sent her well-wishes to Isolde through a video chat, letting little Eliora babble into the camera and say hello as well.

Their daughter was just over six months now, already growing far too fast for Rowan’s liking. He treasured every moment he got to spend with his two favorite girls.

And although he was always happy to see his family back in Doranelle, it had been the longest he had been away since Eliora had been born. It made him highly impatient to return home.

His jet touched down in Terrasen in the early afternoon. It was summer, though the day was mild. The sky was a vivid blue, fat white clouds floating lethargically on the breeze. Absolutely beautiful.

Due to the time difference, he hadn’t been able to call Aelin before he had got on the plane. He tried to reach her as he slid into the dark sedan that would drive him from the airport to the palace, but all he got was her voicemail.

Maybe she was in the shower, or changing Eliora’s diaper. Maybe their daughter had a finicky night of sleeping and now the pair were trying to catch up on their slumber. It was fine. Or so Rowan told himself. He still hadn’t been able to stop the small clench of nerves at the pit of his stomach.

He scolded those foolish feelings. Of course his wife and daughter were safe. They were just waiting for him to return.

The drive was quick and easy and he was back at the palace before he knew it. His feet carried him towards the room he shared with Aelin, a small smile curling on his lips as he thought about having his wife and daughter in his arms once more. He missed the feeling of Aelin curled against him as they slept.

“Aelin?” he called, pushing into their room and nudging the door shut behind him. “I’m home.”

He was greeted by nothing but silence. No sound of running water in the bathroom to suggest a shower, so soft snores or shifting sheets meaning a nap. He strode into the bedroom, finding that the bed was already neatly made, not a thread out of place.

He dropped his bags by the dresser, noting that Aelin’s phone had been left there, face up. He picked it up, seeing that she still had the notification of a missed call from him and a few miscellaneous emails that hadn’t been checked.

“Aelin?” he said again, moving towards the nursery. He had gotten used to the sight of Aelin sitting in the rocking chair with Eliora, either when the babe was hungry or she just wanted to hold her daughter. Rowan had countless pictures on his phone of the two of them in that position. The sunlight streamed from the window and hit them just right in the mornings, making them look like a painting.

But the nursery was empty and the window was shut.

Those nerves reared their ugly heads once more. He had no reason to assume the worst, the palace was one of the safest places in the kingdom.

But… Aelin had once been snatched away from him on palace grounds. During their own wedding.

Rowan shook himself. No. That was the past. This was now.

Since his wife didn’t have her phone, he knew it would be fruitless to try and contact her that way. But, Rowan knew Aelin better than he knew himself.

He began a sweep of the palace, checking out her favorite haunts. The library was a bust, so was the gym. He had checked the kitchens to see if she had swooped in for a snack or something sweet, but she wasn’t there either. Rowan luckily ran into Aedion, asking the prince if he knew where Aelin was. But her cousin hadn’t seen her at all that morning.

With each failed attempt at finding them, Rowan’s fears steadily crept up. It wouldn’t be much longer before they had wrapped themselves around his throat and pulled him deep into their depths.

He took a long breath to center himself before striding out into the gardens. His heart started beating faster, not seeing any sign of her at first. Rowan’s fingers curled into tight fists as he stepped over fresh, green grass. Gods, where were they? If something had happened to them…

But before Rowan’s fears could conquer him, he heard a soft voice on the summer breeze. A familiar voice at that. Relief washed through him, heavenly and soothing, as he followed that melodic sound.

It was Aelin. It didn’t take him long to realize that she was reading one of Eliora’s favorite books to her. It was a silly tale, and it was made even more vivid when Aelin told it. She was an excellent story-teller. They didn’t know how much Eliora really understood, whether she just liked the brightly colored pictures or the faces her mother would make when she told it. Regardless, it always made the little princess smile.

Rowan rounded a hedge, a warmth spreading through his chest at the sight before him.

Aelin had spread out a large quilt under the shade of a willow. Some of Eliora’s toys were scattered about, but currently, the toddler sat in her mother’s lap, wide-eyes glued on the book before her.

Rowan couldn’t help but think Aelin looked stunning today. Her golden hair was left loose, swaying on the breeze, the summer sun bringing a healthy flush to her cheeks. She wore a silky, pale blue wrap-dress, bare feet tucked beneath her as she read. Eliora looked mighty charming too in a bright pink dress with a matching bow.

Rowan strolled towards them, Aelin’s eyes jumping towards him as she noticed his presence. A huge smile broke out on her stunning face.

“You’re home!” she greeted, putting the book she had been reading aloud down. Eliora, no longer entertained by her mother’s storytelling, crawled over the quilt to grab one of her brightly colored toys. “I thought you were going to call me when you landed?”

“I did, Fireheart,” Rowan said. He lowered herself behind Aelin on the blanket, his wife situated between his legs, before wrapping his arms tightly around her and tugging her back into his chest securely. “You left your phone in our room.”

Rowan placed a lingering kiss on Aelin's shoulder, breathing in her scent deeply. She was safe, in his arms, Eliora happy as can be, sticking her toys in her mouth. Everything was fine.

Aelin turned in his arms slightly, brows knitted slightly. Rowan knew she could see right through him.

“What is it, Ro?”

“It’s nothing, love.”

Aelin narrowed her eyes at him, as if to say, Don’t you lie to me, Buzzard.

Rowan heaved a sigh, reaching out and brushing some of Aelin’s silky hair behind her ear. “It’s just… you didn’t answer me when I called, and I couldn’t find you and Eliora when I got back. I just couldn’t help but think…” His hand drifted until it rested on Aelin’s abdomen, right over the scar she bore from fighting her way to freedom. He saw understanding on his wife’s face.

“We’re here, Rowan. We’re safe.” She placed a gentle hand on Rowan’s cheek, bringing his gaze towards her.

“I know,” Rowan whispered, jaw clenched. “But sometimes, I just worry that when I open my eyes, this will all turn out to be a dream. And I’ll lose you all over again.”

Aelin took his hand, giving it a firm squeeze. “This is real, Rowan. We both fought for this life, for each other. And nothing, nothing, is going to take it away. Ever.”

Rowan saw the determination blazing in Aelin’s eyes. She was right, of course. This was their life now, they had built their happiness bit by bit, even when so much seemed to want to go wrong. But Aelin and Eliora… they were everything to him. He didn’t know if he would ever be able to banish his fears entirely, but he would treasure every moment he spent with them.

Rowan leaned in, kissing Aelin softly before murmuring against her lips, “I missed you.”

She smiled, kissing him again. “I missed you too, Ro.”

They indulged in a few more slow, sweet kisses before loud babbling sounded, tiny hands twisting into Rowan’s trouser. He looked down, finding Eliora’s wide eyes looking up at him, flashing a gummy smile.

Aelin laughed. “It looks like someone else missed you, too.”

Rowan grinned, reaching out and picking up his daughter. He held her up high, making her release the sweetest little laughs, little legs kicking in delight. He kissed Eliora all over her little face before tucking her in one arm, throwing the other around Aelin. Immense love and devotion flowed through him, holding his two girls close.

No wonder why he had been so impatient to get home.