#if he has no one to bother he will resort to traditional methods

[monkesupreme]

Making Bruce the kind of guy to work through his thoughts out loud when he knows hes allowed to. This leads to him rubberducking off of anyone who will let him, including, but not limited to his boys and assorted JL members. He latches on, and suddenly, this is not Bruce's Case, its Our case.

Despite him doing this to anyone that will listen, Clark tends to be the most available victim due to his extreme patience, his investigative skills, and love of listening to people ramble at him <3

[yandere-wishes]

MONSTERS

👹 Yandere Ryomen Sukuna x Reader

👹Summary: Monsters aren’t born they're made, but Sukuna stumbles across the rare exception...

👹Warning: dehumanization, mention of gore, blood, slight dub-con mentioned in passing, death, past trauma, and abuse

👹 Edited: By the lovely @tealyjade-libran !

👹 Wordcount: 2,480

👹Alternative Tittle : If Roxanne ( from the Police song) lived in ancient Japan.

👹First Jujutsu kaisen fic! I hope you guys like it, please let me know your thoughts! Likes and reblogs appreciated!

Monsters were made. 

Slowly created as once blazing ideals, withered and died under harsh strokes of reality. Stitched together with broken promises and the ashes of rotting memories. 

Monsters were made

whisked into a role they once dreaded, once feared. Beaten into the role of the villain, the reprobate, the sinner. 

If anyone ever asked Sukuna when was the exact moment he turned his back on the laws of "good" and "evil", shedding his human skin to regrow a pelt of hate and destruction,

He would simply answer, "Never".

Because skin is skin no matter how much it decays. Even if the epidermis turns into a rotting orange shade, littered with eyeballs and teeth that shouldn't grow there.Even if the blood from all those he's slain has finally stained his dermis, tainting it in a permanent crimson that all the waters of Lake Biwa could never wash off. Even if his hypodermis is no longer made of fatty tissue but rather spiritual energy sucked from the atmosphere. It's still skin, the same old skin he was born with.

Sukuna had never shed his skin, he'd only perfected it, enhanced it, molded it into its perfect form, until he was no longer held back by foolish human limitations.

He'd never been "reborn" only recreated; only perfected. 

Spike, talon and teeth covered arms sprouting from oozing, bleeding scars, charred over by begriming infections that burned worse than the strikes he'd endured as a child. Knuckles and bones cracking over and over and over again until they grew as solid as the rocks that were thrown at him when he was all too little to understand the malice behind the insults and threats. Breaking until they could break no more, until they'd become strong enough to split a boulder with a mere flick.

There had come a time when he'd given up licking his wounds, leaving them to be kissed by the mold-covered worms who left an urticating sensation he'd soon come to associate with victory. Rotting flesh growing covered in thick layers of black tar tattoos that hid every cut he'd endured when he'd once been too weak. 

Monsters were created from quarter truths buried neck-deep in fables that snipped like red-eyed scorpions. 

Until the blood dancing through their veins was as black as the void they now called home. 

Sukuna knew the exact moment he realized he was a monster. The day he realized he liked the crunch of skulls beneath his feet, the pitiful spark in mortified eyes staring at the heavens for a scrap of mercy. Mangled mouths barely held together by fractured jaw bones, uttering prayers and pleas that died in the scorching air. 

Sukuna knew he was an abnormality, patched together by broken heirlooms and shattered family traditions. Sitting on a throne made from skulls of those who thought they could ever kill him. 

You can't kill a monster, for you can not kill that which was never born. 

You can't slay something made from good intentions with malevolent methods, something so vile that it might actually be pure. At the end of the day, no monster really admits that it is a monster, a nightmare that should have never existed. 

Yet...

Tattered hearts and cruel orbs are never quite enough. No monster is complete until they dive off that last edge, plummet into the sea of nothingness, and finally, finally break their souls on the spiked soil. Monsters, spirits, curses any malicious being that had been mended together like a half-done ragdoll was not complete until they truly let go. Until they erased all the former humanity that they had been born with. Until their eyes reflected nothing, no emotions, no malice, no want, no need. Just the absolute emptiness. 

The void in all its glory.

that was the symbol, the true markings of a real monstrosity. The void that took over their existence, that had replaced every inch of their former self. Only then could it be said that you were above all other beings, the true perfection of this world. 

There are worse things created than monsters, things that are made from nothing and everything. Things above "Yin" and "Yang". Things that have no scrap of humanity, monstrosity, or anything in them.

Things that are just empty.

So maybe -just maybe- that's why when Sukuna's rotting orange eyes landed on the epitome of emptiness, a...girl, whose face was sculpted to disreflect emotions and intents. Someone who was the void of darkness itself. The true personification of nothingness. 

His heart -for the first time in countless centuries- began to throb.

a truly dead face swarmed by a sea of buzzing ants, chasing their routine happiness. Smiles of delight and carelessness carved on their aging faces with sunlight knives and the melody of golden coins. The lust for life leaking from every pore of their bodies. 

With every face being a carbon copy of each other it was no wonder yours stood out.

There was a silver chain of attraction, dragging Sukuna towards the village girl. Not love, never love, the king of curses was beyond certain, that neither you nor he could feel such a honey-laced sensation. It was more like....something. Something paranormal, inexpiable. Some magnetic force outside of everything's control. 

It was easy enough to explain why he liked you. Why you stood out from the other insects of this middle-of-nowhere-village. 

You had dark matter for blood and dead seas for brains. 

Your eyes radiated an endless abyss. Making others shy away from your lifeless gaze. Scared to look into the void in fear that it may respond. 

You were a thrown away doll,

A living dead,

A dying star,

You were the daughter of the number zero,

The monster that had no maker nor mother. 

Something not born nor created. 

Just an entity that roamed the earth, with no desire nor hope, no wish nor dream. Not leaving, not dying, just existing in the space between today and tomorrow. 

There'd been no need for pleasantries, for hiding behind ghostly tree branches and frozen windows. There'd been no need to kill or ravage for you. No competition to eliminate, because no one ever came near you. Humans don't like what they can't explain, Sukuna knew that all too well. 

Sukuna watched from a close enough distance to almost touch. Lingering around like a phantom begging to be noticed. Orbs trailing over you, but never approaching. Until one day he'd just stood still. Waited for you to turn your head just a fraction to the left, just to see him in all his menacing terror. To finally notice the clawing, crawling sensation that had been creeping up your spine like a hoard of spiders. 

And when your dead eyes did finally land on him. Sukuna could swear that his breath hitched in his throat for the first time in his seemingly endless life.

You weren't human. Humans didn't have hollow faces or marbles for lips. 

You weren't a curse. Curses didn't lack venom dripping from their souls.

You were something better than a monster. You were the divinity of monstrosity, the void itself. Black holes for eyes, answerless paradoxes for hands, and an endless maze where your torso should have been. 

 Exploding suns danced around you, burning, burning, till they died out, leaving behind no trace that they once lit up the universe. 

The space after the end, that's what you were.

Perfect, to Sukuna you were perfect.

You hadn't run, hadn't screamed, hadn't even bothered to talk. You didn't care about him, couldn't care about him. That's what made him want you, made his mouth salivate with the thought of your flesh between his teeth. 

That night the world stood still, as Sukuna's claws penetrated your flesh like twirling needles. You were as light as a feather. You weighed nothing, were nothing. All so easy to pluck and throw about. You never made a noise when your body collided with the bamboo walls, just letting gravity and Sukuna play a twisted ball game with your lump of a body.

You hadn't protested when he violated you. As his lips bit every inch of your body raw. For some unearthly reason that even the gods couldn't understand, would never want to understand, you had found the Curse's violent actions rather...adoring. Taking every slap and slash with the earnest pride of a small child getting praised for a day of relentless chores. letting the dawn-tinted-haired monster adorn your body in blue and purple jewels. It felt right, in a  pathetically, nauseating, twisted way...it just felt right.

 It was disastrous, sure, but it was right. Like two universes crashing. Destroying each other with every kiss and every bruise. 

But...

For the first time in your meaningless life, you had truly understood what "happiness" felt like. 

For the first time in his endless life, Sukuna had truly understood what "intimacy" felt like.

///

Was it wrong to kiss you? For a fraction of a second Sukuna hesitated, blood tinged lips hovering millimeters away from your own stone-set ones. The moon's cursed rays acting like an unnoticed barrier, keeping two things out of each other's grasp. His lips curled back revealing two rows of knife-like teeth. The last resort, a final hope that you'd run away, that you'd act somewhat normal. The king of curses, the evil among men, didn't mind your lack of regularity. He didn't mind how you leaned into every bitter strike, every painful display of fading affection . He adored how you merely giggled as he slashed open your uncharged skin, creating slits for your blood to spill through, onto his waiting tongue. He admired your lifelessness, the way you radiated death. 

Oh, how you filled him with a startling aftershock every time he touched you. Every time his tongue lapped at your bleeding skin he'd feel the sort of electric shocks that came after the storms had passed. Your body had no shape, it molded to his touch, turning his favorite shades of red, with just a little pressure. 

But sometimes, in fleeting, endless seconds. He wished he had a name for what you two were. You weren't his per se, you could never be his. Being his would indicate that he cared about you, or heck even loved you and that could never be true. The king of curses did not love, nor care. He merely tolerated you; you fascinated him, that's all. 

It had been many moons since he first found you in that no-name village. Months upon months since you'd been by his side. You'd watched as he'd destroyed cities, helped him even. Eyes never shedding a single tear. Mouth never uttering a single protest. 

The two of you had become the best, the King of curses and the Queen of nothingness. With the dying speed of laboring bees, Sukuna had carved himself inside of you. Twisted emptiness into flower-covered destruction. Into molten gold lava. 

Leaving you with wounds that were stuck in a cycle of healing and opening. Until they began to harden like his. Until the need for spilled blood lingered on your tongue like the burn of boiled tea. Until under your nails were coated in a decaying crust of dried blood. Sukuna hadn't turned you into a monster, he'd simply showed you the powers that came with your apathy. With a heart as torn and cold as yours, it was a shame to let it go to waste. 

"You're not half bad," his tone is never approving. It's always laced with a strictness that keeps you nailed into place. His words are oxymorons sounding like praise, but once you peel back the lather layers they're just taunts in disguise. 

You don't answer, words die on your tongue as quickly as they are born. Sukuna can't even remember what your voice sounds like outside of small whispers in heat filled nights. 

 However, to the two of you, things like that didn't matter. Your lack of being even semi-alive and Sukuna's endless abuse had become a norm for the two of you. Where else were a two-faced monster and a lifeless girl going to find love anyway? 

Sukuna was all you had, all you ever had. You'd die for him, kill for him, turn into anything for him. Because he gave you life. 

A purpose to life, made out of raging fires and endless screams. A life fabricated from the pain and suffering of others. That was what the king of curses had given you, all wrapped in a human skin parchment. Maybe that's why all logic withered away the first night he kissed you, maybe from the first second that you sensed his presence you had finally gained a reason to be alive. 

///

Whoever said the end of the world was beautiful? Whoever said the final days would be bright and glowing and pure? 

It's just a blaze of stray flames and red crystal droplets that may or may not be your blood. Funny, Sukuna had always thought that your blood would be as black as the moonless sky, not a mundane red like everyone else's. He'd expected a grander death from you. Some sort of black hole opening to swallow the world whole. Not just another corpse motionless in a pool of their own blood. 

Although he's not one to talk. His own 'death' is lingering on the horizon. Sukuna's head tilts back looking for the flashing jujutsu sorcerers. 

"S-sukun-a..." 

He smirks, fangs sticking out at odd angles. Your voice is sweet, for the first time in forever he'd even dare say it held some semblance of emotion. 

What that emotion is, he doubts he knows or even really cares. He'd long since stopped trying to identify all those "feelings" and their associated names. 

His orange eyes lock with your fading orbs, one last time. No, not the last time, just the final time in this lifetime. He's sure he's going to see you again. In any other life, Sukuna knows he'll be able to recognize you despite whatever flesh suit you'd be wearing. 

"Shh little one," he's halfway gone before he finishes his sentence, leaving you to relish in his memory in your final moments. "We'll see each other once more, someday in another life..."

His four eyes lock on the approaching sorcerers. He finds it humorous how desperate they look. How alive and ready they seem, such a stark contrast to your ever lifeless face and dead eyes, it repulses him. 

"Or maybe in one of the circles of hell." 

The flames encircling his fingers remind him of the heat your body radiated in the dead of night. The crack from bones hum as they meet his knuckles, flash memories of your days wasted together doing nothing and everything. 

The two of you will meet once more, he's sure of it. After all...

Monsters never die. 

How could something that was never even born in the first place, ever die?

[gotnofucks]

Happily Ever After - 2

Paring: dark!Steve x desi!reader

Summary: You are welcomed in your new life, as the bride of Steve Rogers

Words: 4k

Warnings: Non-con/dub-con, smut, loss of virginity, breeding kink (I think), 18+ ONLY

A/N: huge huge huge thanks to @donutloverxo for the inspiration of this chapter. I swear I may have written it, but most ideas belong to the wonderful girl Berry! You’re a sweetheart!

Part 1 (can be read as standalone but maybe read the previous part)

MASTERLIST

+++++

You felt sick as you gazed at the Avengers Compound, the whole building lit up with lights and decorated with flowers. Steve took your hand in his, a grin on his face as he led you past the beautiful rangolis in your welcome. You tried to take your hand away from his and he tutted.

“Now wife,” He seemed to love using that title, “don’t be a brat. Look how warmly everyone has come to welcome and congratulate us.”

You followed his gaze to the main door which were ajar, your new family waiting for you. You couldn’t help the scowl on your face when you noticed everyone was donning desi attire, not in the least bit bothered about how this wedding actually came to be. The tinkling of your anklets echoed as you approached the smiling avengers, a huge cheer booming for your welcome. Bucky stepped away from behind you and joined the crowd at your front, taking the aarti ki thali from Nat and wiggling his brows. He rotated the plate in front of you and Steve, showering you with flower petals. You bared your teeth at him, only making him smile wider.

Steve chuckled at you, leaning down to brush a very soft kiss on your brow and your jerked away.

“Be a good wife and kick the pot” He said pointing at the floor. You looked down and your mouth parted in surprise at the rice filled kalash on the doorstep, waiting for you to gently kick it inside. Steve really had outdone himself, read up on every small detail of your culture. You wondered if he knew the symbolism of this and glanced at his smug face from the corner of your eyes. He winked at you and you breathed sharply, kicking the kalash harder than necessary and sending the rice in it flying inside. The avengers clapped and cheered as you took a step inside, but before you could do more Steve swept you in his arms.

“Steve!” You shouted, arms automatically coming to hold him around the neck as he carried you over the threshold. Your heavy lehenga didn’t deter him, and he walked in with you with barely any effort.

“Some of your traditions darling, some of mine.” He whispered in your ear and you dunked your head in embarrassment as he took you towards the elevator to his floor. You didn’t bother glancing at the laughing people surrounding you, each of them as depraved as your husband.

Husband

It hadn’t sunk in yet that you were married to Steve Rogers, but as he carried you inside the elevator and the doors shut behind you both, fear gathered in your heart. You chanced a look up at his face, finding his cobalt blue eyes already locked on your face. The nervousness in your eyes just amused him more and he bit his lip before licking them.

“You’re going to love the room, I had Nat and Wanda decorate it for us.” He said once he finally set you down on your feet on reaching his floor. You wrung your hands uneasily, the truth of what lay ahead making you want to puke. Steve glanced at you, quirking a brow when you didn’t come forward.

“There are more rituals left, wedding games to be played.” You said softly, trying to stall a little more. Steve snickered at your obvious attempt to delay the night and he came forward to pull you in by your arms. He’d undone the top few buttons of his Sherwani, and you blinked as his chest barely peeked from the gap.

“We’ll play all the games that you want, fulfill all your customs and rituals wife. But tomorrow. I’ve waited too long to have you to wait another night.” His mouth met yours suddenly, huge bulky arms holding yours and restricting your movements. You hummed into the kiss, trying to shake your head but Steve held fast, parting your mouth with his tongue and deepening it. When he pulled away you were panting, hands trembling slightly as they rested on his massive chest.

Taking your hand in his, he pulled and your feet reluctantly dragged behind him, slipping slightly on the polished floor. Steve surprised you by not taking you to the bedroom but in the kitchen, leaving you only to pull out a saucer from his cabinet and the carton of milk from his fridge. His smile had turned mischievous and you backed away from until you met the cold marble counter at your back.

“Gotta say darling, your culture is amazing. They look after their men, don’t they? Like making them milk with aphrodisiac spices to maintain stamina at night?”

You shook your head when he looked at you expectantly, pointing at the milk and spices. When you didn’t move, he came forward and clutched your waist, the bare flesh between your blouse and lehenga meeting his warm hands and breaking into gooseflesh.

“Why must you make everything so difficult, huh? Just make me the goddamn milk.” He hissed, standing so close that your chest brushed his. You trembled as his eyes grew annoyed and jumped into action when he pinched your waist, making you squeal. You turned around and out of his hold, gathering almonds and saffron and quickly grinding them together in a pestle. As you worked you could feel Steve’s warmth at your back, his hand sneaking out to hold you from under your chest.

“Steve, I am cooking.” You complained felt his chest rumble in laughter behind you. He rested his head on yours, caging you against the kitchen counter with his massive body. Somehow, his body heat felt warmer than the steam rising from the boiling milk on the stove from your front. As you added your spices to the milk, watching it turn from white to pale yellow, one of Steve’s hand unclasped the heavy jewelry from your neck. Your eyes squeezed shut as his touch roamed over your back and traced the column of your neck, his breath hitting you right behind your ears and making you shiver.

“I don’t need this milk for stamina, you make me hard for days, but I am honoring your culture. You’ll be such a good wife to me, I’ll make sure of it.” He said and pressed a searing kiss on the juncture of your throat, his hands clutching you tight to him. Your breath became labored as his lips trailed over your shoulder and you wiggled. He let you go so you could pour him the saffron milk, smirking as he sipped it.

“You wanna feel magic?” He asked, taking your hand and pressing it to his crotch. A whimper escaped your lips as his hardness swelled beneath your palm, his own hand over yours keeping it in place. You begged him with your eyes to let you go, but he simply pressed harder in your hand and let out a groan.

“Steve, please.” You pleaded when Steve put down his empty glass beside you and trapped you against the counter. His breath washed over your parted lips and you could taste it on your own tongue. His hands wound around you, pulling you flush to his chest until there was nothing in between.

“You look so pretty when you beg me” He breathed. Your head was cradled in his chest, hands fisting his sherwani when a few errant tears dropped past. Steve touched the wetness on your cheeks, spreading it with the pad of him thumbs over your face. “God, what a mess you’ll make with this makeup as I make you choke on me. Look at this tiny mouth, darling.”

A discomforted whine tore free from you when he pushed two fingers inside your mouth, spreading them apart to stretch open your lips. The ends of your mouth arched, his thick digits pressing over your wet tongue, making you gag. He laughed at that, wiping his wet fingers softly over your lips before chastely kissing your forehead.

“Come, lets go christen our house.”

Your heart was thudding painfully in your chest and your bangles clinked together as you fought him. It was ridiculous how insignificant your strength was compared to him, how easily he could pull you along just like a toy. Your cries pierced the air, but your husband simply shoved you inside the bedroom and shut the door. Even with terror flowing in your veins, a begrudging appreciation was apparent as you looked at what would be your bedroom.

The whole room was fragrant with flowers, several chains of flower hanging over the bed and making a beautiful canopy overhead. The bed itself was decorated with rose petals, and soft candles were sputtering in every corner. Your breath hitched in your throat as your stared at the room, the sheer domesticity and beauty of it feeling like a taunt. The ugly nature of your union with Steve was about to sully the piousness of this night, and you resisted the urge to tear away every decoration hanging from the ceiling.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Steve purred in your ear, his hands coming to hold your from behind. His hardness ground in your lower back, and you sniffed as you felt his teeth nip your earlobe.

“Please don’t do this Steve.” Begging him was your last resort, you’d already lost your dignity. But you’d give away the last shred of it to save your innocence. “You promised you love me, please don’t do this. Give me some time.”

Steve turned you around to face him, your chin in his finger and thumb as he peered deep in your eyes. The blue in his had given way to a darker hue, almost black as lust invaded his senses. He pushed you back towards the bed, not looking away from your face for one second.

“Time? Baby, this night should have come months ago. You should have been on your knees for me that night I first I asked you, but you had to be a fucking bitch about it. But no matter, I’ve got you now. You can worship me now.”

The back of your knees met the mattress and you sat on the edge of the bed, looking up fearfully at Steve who was methodically removing his clothes. His eyes seemed glued to your form as he unveiled his body to you, carelessly throwing away his clothes. You gulped in fear, eyes moist when you realized what would happen.

“Don’t look like that honey. Consider them lessons as a wife in training. A good wife should always know how to pleasure her man.”

He finally pushed down his boxers, his cock bouncing out and hard, pointing right at you with its weeping head. You stifled another gasp because it looked so red and angry. And huge. Its head was mushroom shaped, leaking dewy pre-cum from its slit, the roundness of it so huge you wanted to bolt away. Steve chuckled as he took in your reaction to his cock, his fist enveloping his length to stroke up and down, pulling on the soft skin.

“Don’t worry honey, it will fit. That’s my job to make sure it does. You…You just need to suck.”

You closed your eyes, hoping you’ll escape the terror this way. It was just like you were a kid again hiding under your blanket, believing that if you couldn’t see the horrors, they’d stop existing. Those silly notions however remained in your childhood when you felt his heavy tool slap your face lightly, some of its wetness sticking to your cheek. Strong fingers grasped your jaw, forcing it open and Steve pushed into your mouth slowly. A sinful moan emanated from him, your mouth holding his pulsing length in your warmth.

“Open your eyes, let me gaze at your soul as I make your body mine.”

You blinked at him with watery eyes, your hands pushing against his thighs when he thrust in deeper. His hands were in your hair, helping you bob up and down as you slobbered over him, your saliva dribbling down to his balls. Pleasured grunts kept leaving Steve’s open mouth as painful whimpers left yours. He was so huge you could barely take half of him, the corners of your mouth cracking open a little due to his girth.

“Just like that honey, suck a little harder – Yesss! Now press that tongue on my underside…Just like that, yeah.”

You tried to breath through your nose, following his commands that made it a little easier. Your tears had pooled at the point of your chin, dripping down slowly. Steve pulled out of your mouth suddenly, pinching his cock a little with a pained expressed, relaxing after a minute.

“You’ll learn to swallow me later, but tonight my cum is going straight in that cunt of yours.”

Your eyes widened in terror, the mascara and makeup smudged all over your face casting you a pitiful creature. Steve to your surprise gently started removing the numerous jewelries from your body, his hands soft as they reached the hundreds of pins keeping your hair up.

“Steve, I – I don’t want a baby. Not yet.” You said and he shot you a cheeky smile.

“I don’t too, not yet.” He assured you, still detangling your hair with utmost care. “I want you to myself for some time, need you only for my pleasure. I am not ready to share you with a squealing brat anytime soon, even if that brat is mine.”

Your scalp hurt as it was finally free off the accessories, and Steve massaged it with his fingers. Why was he being so sweet all of a sudden? You peeked at him with a confused expression on your face, the pout on your lip making him coo.

“Believe what you will Y/n, I have loved you most ardently. It may not seem like that now, but it is true.”

His words should have soothed you, given you hope about the grim marriage you were forced in, but instead they made you mad. How could a man be so ignorant to think his obsession as love? How could any person in the world treat someone they love as Steve did to you? You drew in an angry breath, a curse hissed from between your teeth before you punched his stomach. Steve staggered back, more from surprise than the force behind your weak punch. His own angry eyes met yours in challenge and you were thrown in the center of the bed before you realized it.

“You dumb bitch!” He seethed, his body hovering over yours and trembling with barely suppressed rage. “I’ve tried to be fucking gentle with you, but if you want to act like a spoiled brat, then that’s how I’ll goddamn treat you!”

Two hands grabbed your blouse and pulled, the ripping noise echoing in the room as your beautiful blouse gave out at the seams and split. You cried out under him, breasts spilling free and bouncing. He didn’t seem to feel your hands pushing on his bare chest, too busy to remove your heavy, multi layered lehenga. When he finally removed the offending garment, he settled over you, his heavy cock hitting your clothed center. You were trembling in a mix of fear, nausea, and anger. The spare few bangles on your wrists merrily jingled as you struggled with the kiss forced on your lips, Steve’s lips travelling down from there to your throat, leaving teeth marks in their wake.

“You are too wild my wife, but I know how to tame a fiery dame. I’ll show you how to worship your man.”

The heat of his mouth enveloped your hardening nipple, his tongue swirling around it. You keened under him, your tears leaving black mascara tracks over your cheeks and spilling on the pristine white bed sheet beneath. Rose petals crushed under your body, their sweet smell the most offending thing to greet you in this moment.

“Stop it! Please!” You begged, not because it was too painful but just the opposite. The captain on the field was also a captain in bed, leading your body in a journey of sweet sweet pleasure that had you mewling as his mouth descended. You didn’t want this feeling, this excitement that coursed through your body and settled like simmering heat deep in your womb. You didn’t want to let out that moan when Steve ripped off your panties and licked your drenched core.

“Oh good lord, you take like heaven. My angel, my beacon of light, so sweet like honey.”

His words affected you as much as his tongue, your lust addled brain taking his sweet praises directly to your heart and warming you up for him. As you writhed under him, felt his supple tongue dip inside you and around your hard nub, you pondered over the irony. By all means, he was your husband. Forced as the marriage may have been, it was conducted with full rites in the holy witness of agni (fire) and with proper rituals. Was this why you felt this way? Because somewhere, in some deep recess of your twisted mind you accepted the role as his wife, as his other half whose sanctified role was to serve and please him?

Your body drew up in an arch, eyes snapping open as you howled your release in the air, your juices spilling directly in Steve’s mouth who slurped them away with relish. The maintained the eye contact as he licked the last of your essence had your walls clenching around nothing and you drank in the erotic sight of his massive body between your thick thighs, his blond hair askew.

“You see how good we can be Y/n? How good I can make you feel?”

He pushed a finger in your still slightly pulsing channel, rubbing along your spongy walls to help you open. He was so thick, so meaty that you’ll pass out from the pain if unprepared. Another finger entered, and you threw your head back, sobbing and confused from the conflicting emotions inside you. You felt him scissor you open, your untouched entrance straining under the pressure and a pained hiss escaping you.

“Just a little more my darling, need to loosen you up.”

He climbed up your body, bringing his face over yours and kissing you deep. You responded without thinking, tasting yourself on his tongue as he moaned. When you felt him line up along your entrance, your hands shot out to take hold of his shoulders, squeezing.

“Condom. Please, you said no kids.” You begged and Steve kissed you again, brushing his nose against yours.

“Our first-time won’t be with a layer between. I want to feel you, and nothing will come in the middle of this union. In fact, nothing will ever come between us. I’ll get you on birth control, but I am not wearing rubber. My seed will always find their end deep inside you.”

You shook your head, fisting his hair to get his attention.

“Steve please, don’t do this. Its too much of a risk…You have a very potent DNA. You’re enhanced.”

Steve ignored your words, reaching down to align himself again and starting to push in. You scrunched your eyes shut as his bulbous head barely started stretching your walls, your pathetic sniffles fanning his neck.

“Listen to me well, you don’t tell me what to do. I will always have you as I want, whenever I want. Your job is to present for me, be ready for me with a wet cunt to slide right in.”

And he did just that. He fed in every inch of this thick cock in your core, tearing through the flimsy barrier that made you cry out loud. You were sobbing in his chest, holding onto the one responsible for the pain in the first place. When you felt his pelvis flush against yours, you buried you head in his neck, begging him to stay still.

“Shh baby, its okay. It had to happen. It won’t hurt in a little while.” He soothed you, distracting you with little kisses all along your face and collarbone. You looked at him with watery eyes, not knowing how to feel about him as he sat balls deep inside you. It was when he reached between your bodies and drew back bloody fingers that your heart contracted in sorrow. Your virtue, all but snatched from you.

“Look at you staining the white bedsheet with the proof of your innocence. You saved yourself for your husband, and here is your reward.” Steve murmured and your walls trembled when he sucked your virgin blood in his mouth. You breathed deeply, gazing into his eyes and your hands traveled to his back, the thick muscles rippling under your touch.

“If I bleed, so will you!” You declared and with that you dug your nails in his flesh and raked them down his back in vengeance, his pained screech followed by just as painful a thrust. He moved inside you like a demon, pushing into your body as if trying to come out of the other end. Both your voices rose in the air along with pants, your nails digging deeper in his back and a small stream of blood poured over the curve of his back and met the white sheets.

“You!” Steve hissed, kissing you, fucking you. His hands travelled the expanse of your curves, dipping into every crevice and his hard cock scratched your walls deliciously. “You make me so fucking mad. I want to kill you, but I want to kill you by giving you so much love, so much pleasure.”

As his words became unintelligible, his thrusts harder and deeper, your voice higher, the coil in your gut tightened and tightened until it finally snapped and your heat clutched him in a velvet grip, milking his cock. Steve groaned, his head falling in the crook of your neck as he breathed heavily, the last of his cum painting your womb.

You lay beneath his heaving body, your blood staining his cock while his stained your hands. You matched the fire in his eyes with the glowing embers in yours, and a smile tugged on his lips as he delicately pulled out. You winced in pain, a chocked noise coming from you that made him wince in return. He reached over the other side of the bed, pulling out a basin from underneath and a wet towel. You watched in awe as he slowly, almost reverently cleaned between your legs, soft hushes cooed to you in a kind voice.

“You don’t see it yet, but you need me just as much as I need you. Fire like yours, it can only be matched by someone like me. You’ll burn every other man to a crisp, but me? I like that burn, I challenge your fire. We are made for each other, for no other woman could have taken me like you just did.”

You turned away from him, him and his words that made shame wash over you. How wantonly you had responded to his touch, how ferociously you had clawed his back like a tigress, subconsciously leaving your mark on him as he did on you. You felt his warm, sweaty body curl against you from behind, holding you close.

“I love you” He confessed again. “I will always love you, despite the glare of your eyes and venom of your words. I will always come back to you, just like you will to me. You’re not leaving me wife, not now, not ever.”

Your husband gathered you in his massive arms, cocooning you in his warmth and love as the last of your tears dried. He let you sniffle, hand running through your damp hair in a loving caress.

“I won’t take your name.” You suddenly blurted and Steve’s form shook behind you with silent laughter. His arms tightened around your middle, his semi hard cock nestling between the plump cheeks of your bottom.

“Take it? My dear, you talk like I ever gave you the option. The future for us Rogers seems to be bright indeed.”

+++++

taglist: @what-is-your-wish @stanmysoul @littlegasps @sweeterthanthis @shooting-star-love  @bluemusickid @scentedsongrebel @harrysthiccthighss @muralskins

[masterhandss]

Idk if you know this. But apparently there was a concept that dressing sickly boys in girl's clothing helped them recover from illness due to women and girls symbolizing vitality, health, and purity. With that idea. What do you think of the concept that Alan might've worn a dress or two when he was younger when he got sick? (Granted we never saw it, but still).

Oh!! Yes I know of it! In Ye Old days, sickly boys are assumed to be affected by a malevolent spirit, god or demon so they are dressed up as girls as a form of talisman in the Heian Period.

I may be wrong, but this seems to be strictly a japanese tradition, and hamefura is based on a european setting. I mean I say that but from what little of I know of this tradition, there are implications of families dressing their sons in a similar fashion or similar reasons in the middle ages, so there's a chance Sorcier could have had such practices too. Regardless if its a japanese-exclusive tradition or not, it could still happen given that Yamaguchi throws japanese things into hamefura's world occasionally. Here's a post about it, but it's in japanese. If I say anything wrong, it's because I only know of this from anime haha.

From what I know, sickly boys are dressed like girls in japan until they are at least 7 years old, and Katarina meets Alan a year after meeting Geordo so they meet when they were all 8 years old. Which means it's a perfectly valid headcanon to make :DD We also don't have any shots or mentions of Alan until after his apparent recovery at seven (but we do of Geordo) so it could make sense. Geordo seems to have never been able to see Alan until after he made a recovery, and I know the obvious answer is that so he can continue pursuing his studies without Alan's condition bothering him, but a fun answer would be so that Geordo won't see them trying to treat Alan by making dress like a girl. It could definitely have been one of the things they tried on him. It could add more explanations are to why Alan was secluded in relation to the fact that it's because he's sick; so not a lot of people within the castle finds out that they are resorting to such a method gjhsdgsd.

Imagine a fun scenario when like, Geordo and Alan accidentally meet at the age of five or six, and they become playmates for just a day because Alan wandered off during one of his more healthy days. Neither have ever met each other except in infancy, and Alan is wearing a dress to ward off bad health and evil spirits. Geordo thinks the girl is a cousin because of the resemblance to their father. Alan doesn't remember the encounter, but Geordo does and he would one day say something "Huh, but how do we have a female cousin around our age when all of father's sibling have been wiped out except for one...." and Alan would go like "We have a cousin?" XDD

Also imagine like, in Geoffrey's special drawer meant for his eyes only, something not even Suzanna is allowed to touch, is a secret compartment filled with his most valuable treasures. Among them, is a painting of Alan at the age of six: the only ever commissioned piece of him in those days where he had to wear a dress. No one knows Geoffrey has such a thing, he keeps it close to his heart and plans to take it to the grave (or maybe share it to Alan's future wife).  I like the idea of Geordo not knowing at all rather than knowing and teasing Alan about it. Only Geoffrey knows, because of course he does.

It's a pretty cute headcanon regardless of canonicity XDD It's adorable and fun!!

Thank you for the ask :DD

[worstloki]

please read the article 'How White Fandom is Colonizing "Character-Coding"' by Shafira Jordan and quit while you're ahead

Okay, so I read it and see the problem, and I’ll try to address all their points in order because I don’t wholly agree with the article. I know it’s a lot to read so I’ve put tldr; sections at the end of each :)

Misusing the Term Reinforces Negative Stereotypes for Marginalized People 

The article essentially argues that labeling characters which are villainous as POC-coded is bad because they’re not morally pure and doing so "reinforces the idea that people of color are naturally dangerous and not to be trusted.”

Which is fair as you don’t want all the representation to be of ‘bad’ characters, but I also don’t believe all representative characters have to be ‘good’ either as it would be equally racist to divide good/bad in such a way. Not that I would place Loki under ‘bad’ to begin with, but arguing that characters shouldn’t be labelled as POC-coded for reasons unrelated to what’s presented in the narrative or because they did bad things is :/ even if lack of good representation is a prevalent issue in current Western and influenced media. 

Ideally there should be a range of representative characters that fall into ‘good’, ‘bad’, and ‘anywhere in-between’ because variety and complexity in character types should, in theory, be treated as common practice (which can only happen with a multitude of representation!).

And a bit unrelated but... within the fictional context of Thor 1, all the Jotnar (sans Loki) are presented to the audience as ‘bad’ by default. They desperately want to get their Casket back to the point of attempting stealing it (from the ‘good’ characters), they fight the heroes and even when the gang and Thor (’good’ characters) are enjoying or going overboard with taking lives it’s inconsequential, Laufey wants to kill the opposing king (who just happens to be a ‘good’ character) and will resort to low-handed methods to do so, etc. The narrative itself is from the frame of reference of the ‘good’ and we only see warriors of Jotunheim though so we understand why it’s like this, because regardless of their race/experiences the narrative carries, even if it most definitely would be seen as racist from our real-life perspectives if the ‘monstrous’ race were presented by actual people of colour, even if it would make sense for the people on on different realms living in different environments to be different from each other, and realistic even for that to be the root of some conflict. 

tldr; not using a specific label to prevent negative presentations of the characters seems a bit strange to do when the coding would be based off the text, but with limited representation available I see why it would be done, even if I still believe minority-coding is free game to expand/interpret.

Improperly Labeling a Character as “POC-coded” Suggests the Experiences of All People of Color are the Same 

The article argues that labeling Loki as POC-coded “suggests that all people of color have the same experiences, when in reality, people of color come from different places, have different cultures, and have different traditions.” And while it’s true that the term doesn’t go into detail about which particular experiences (and these experiences can vary vastly due to diversity!) the appropriate measure would be to remove the umbrella term POC altogether as people of colour tend to also vary. But that’s also exactly why it’s an all-encompassing general term? It’s a way to denote anyone who isn’t “white” and has the associated cultural privilege that comes with the concept of white supremacy.  

And, obviously, in the fictional setting presented, the concept of white supremacy is not prodded at, but cultural supremacy is definitely one that makes recurring appearances, right next to the parts about Asgard being a realm built on imperialism with ongoing colonial practice. 

My take on this is that Loki’s narrative features a struggle with identity after finding out he’s of a different race and was being treated differently his entire life and being Jotun was presumably a part of the reasoning even if he didn’t know it. He’s basically treated as of less worth for inherently existing differently. I do believe that racism is a common-enough POC experience, but that while Loki was born with blue skin he passes/appears white which is why I don’t say that Loki is a POC, just that he has been coded/can be interpreted this way. 

There’s also the entire thing with Loki trying to fit in and prove he belongs by trying to fit the theory and be The Most Asgardian by committing genocide (which ultimately makes no difference as he’s still not the ‘acceptable’ version of Asgardian), and the denial/rejection of his birth culture in destructively lashing out towards them (which even Thor is confused by because Loki isn’t typically violent), and the fact his self worth plummets and he is passively suicidal upon finding out he’s Jotun (internalized racism? general drop in self-worth after finding out he’s adopted and has been lied to? Bit of both?), but what do I know, I’m sure none of those are, at their base, common experiences or relatable feelings for anyone or decent rep because we see such themes on-screen presented wonderfully in different lights all the time. 

tldr; every set of experiences could be different, some types of discrimination could overlap, if you limit an umbrella term to only very specific circumstances then it’s no longer an umbrella term.

Suggesting that White Characters are Meant to be Seen as People of Color Ignores the Actual Characters of Color that are Present in these Stories

I don’t agree with most of this section, but that may just be the way the arguments are put together, which I don’t blame the author for.

“ Implying that Loki is a person of color completely ignores Heimdall and Hogun, the only Black and Asian Asgardians who appear in the movie. ”

Characters such as Hogun and Heimdall which are played by actual people of colour have smaller roles in the films and any prejudice they could face for being POC in-universe isn’t made apparent, while Loki at the very least comes to the realization that something he couldn’t change (race, parentage,) was having him treated differently his whole life and had to come to terms with it. The Vanir/Aesir are also both treated similarly on-screen, and Heimdall having dark skin isn’t plot relevant, whereas Jotnar are treated as lesser consistently and are relevant through the movie (breaking into the vault, Thor and co. attack Jotunheim, Loki’s deal with Laufey, the attempted regicide (and the successful one XD), destroying jotunheim, Loki saying he’s not Thor’s brother,). 

I also see including characters as POC-coded as... more representation? In all canon-compliant interpretations of the characters Hogun being Vanir is always explicitly mentioned because it’s a fact that just is, up to the appearance and even the world-building of Vanaheim in some fanworks use particularly East Asian culture as inspiration. I have never come across a Marvel fandom Heimdall interpretation where he’s not Black... but because these characters are more minor/side-characters of course they get less attention! 

“ In Loki’s fandom, Heimdall’s name sometimes gets thrown in to suggest that it was he all along who was the real villain due to his “racism” against Loki and the rest of the Jotun. It is, of course, ironic to suggest that somehow the only Black Asgardian to appear in the movie can oppress the privileged white prince. “

I... don’t know where to start with this. But the example of theorizing given in the article wasn’t suggesting Heimdall was bad or trying to explain his actions in Thor 1 by saying he is Black... and just looking at a character’s actions shouldn’t be done less or more critically because of skin tone in my opinion. Heimdall may have been trying to do what was best and protect the realm but if the audience didn’t know that Loki was up to dodgy things then the coding would be switched around because he was trying to spy and committed treason and then tried to kill Loki. People... can hold feelings towards others... regardless of skin... and suspect them... for reasons other than skin... although I do still have questions about whether Heimdall knew Loki was Jotun or not. (Even if I personally don’t think it’d make a difference to how he’d treat Loki?)

Some Loki fans have also suggested that because Jotuns have blue skin that this alone makes him a person of color (even if the audience is only allowed to see Loki in his true Jotun form for mere seconds of screentime). This, again, shows a lack of understanding when it comes to race. It doesn’t matter what skin color the Jotuns have. 

Race can differentiate between physical and/or behavioural characteristics!! Not being blue all the time doesn’t make him any less Jotun!! He’s got internalized stuff to work through and is used to being Aesir!! At least 1 parent is Jotun so even if Loki was passing as Aesir he’s probably Jotun!! (I don’t know how magic space genetics work for sure but Loki being Jotun was an entire very important jump-starting point in Thor 1!!). It’s a fantasy text and typically things like having different coloured skin indicates a different race or is sometimes if a species has multiple then is just considered a skin colour. That’s how coding works!! The Jotnar are very specifically the only race we see in the movie with a skin-tone not within the ‘normal’ human range, which alienates them to the audience from the get-go!! They’re an “other” and on the opposite side to the ‘good’ characters.

Both Loki and his birth father, Laufey (Colm Feore), are played by white men, and it is impossible for a white man to successfully play a character of color. 

The specification of men here bothers me, but yes, you don’t get ‘white’ people to play characters of colour if it can be avoided. (And it can be avoided.)

This also connects with the previous point made that people of color come from various places. There is nothing specifically about the Jotun that could be traced to any specific person of color, and even if there were, there would be no way for white men to portray them without being disrespectful.

This is where arguments about the definition of coding and how specificity/generalizations and do/don’t come in. I know I’m subjective and lean towards the more rep the better, but while I agree ‘white’ people wouldn’t be able to respectfully play a POC I don’t think that rule should have to carry over into fantasy-based fiction. I know texts reflect on reality and reality can reflect within texts, but if contextually there is racial discrimination and there are similar ideas which resonate with the audience’s own experiences I’d say it’s coded well enough to allow that.

tldr; Thor 1′s narrative revolves mainly around Thor and Loki, of which race is kinda kinda a significant theme in Loki’s part of the story. Not so much explored with less-developed side characters such as Heimdall and Hogun, even though their actors are actual people of colour. 

How Much of this is Really Well-Intentioned?

In the fantasy space viking world Heimdall and Hogun don’t face any on-screen prejudice and their appearance is not mentioned (which is nice, for sure! good to have casual rep!) but adding on to the roles they play in the narrative the explicit fantasy-racism in the movie isn't aimed at Asian/Black characters, but towards the Humans -to a lesser extent- and the Jotnar, including Loki, who only just found out he comes under that bracket.

The article mentions how fandom space toxicity often “reaches the actors who portray the characters,“ which is true, and it’s shameful that people have to justify their roles or presences are harassed for the pettiest things like skin tone/cultural background, but I don’t see coding characters as removing the spotlight from interesting characters such as those which are actually POC, rather expressing a demand for more rep, since well-written complex characters which are diverse are often absent/minor enough in the media, and therefore can get easily brushed aside in both canon and fandom spaces.

tldr; It’s obviously not a replacement for actual representation, but, if a character is marginalized and can be interpreted as coded, even if they would only be considered so within the context of the textual landscape, I don’t see why spreading awareness through exploring the coding as a possibility for the character shouldn’t be done, even if the media is being presented by people who are ‘white’ or privileged or may not fall into the categories themselves, as long as it’s done respectfully to those it could explicitly represent.

[bonnini]

Well I promised you a post about my bi Geoffrey Martewall headcanons so here it is guys <3

So…as I previously mentioned in a tag under one of @agapantoblu's posts, I've been half-seriously headcanoning Geoffrey Martewall a.k.a. the best character in the Hypervesum series as a clueless bisexual for... well, for some time. Let's say a year and a half. I've never bothered actually sharing these headcanons online because I didn't really have a clear idea for an actual argument in support of this claim of mine, but now I’m finally ready to put the all the reasons why I get extra-strong bisexual vibes from Geoffrey Martewall into words. Beware…it’s a lot of words :’’)

Exhibit A: Geoffrey and women

1.1. Geoffrey’s taste in women is just too good

Listen. LISTEN. Our man’s taste in women is IMPECCABLE: he could, as Brianna said herself, have chosen to take any young noble maiden as his wife, but he decided to go for a woman that 1) is a couple years older than him 2) is not noble at all and, you know, used to be just a poor paesant before coming to Châtel-Argent 3) already has a son who was fathered by a French knight to whom she was never married and that she had to raise as a teen single mom 4) at the time of their first meeting had a crush on his current worst enemy. LISTEN!!!!!!!! Geoffrey’s taste in women is suspiciously good, way too good, in fact, to be that of a medieval straight guy. I mean…Ian, a man who comes from the 21st century, fell for the textbook angelic maiden, while Geoffrey literally did not even bother looking around for some young blushing bride and just decided that the hot milf who threatened him with a pitchfork in book 2 was his first and best choice. What an Absolute Fucking King. This choice of his is, in my opinion, very telling of the kind of view he has of romance and women in general.

Which brings me to the next point, namely:

1.2. Geoffrey appears to have an attitude towards women and a view of womanhood that are significantly more modern than those of an average knight of his time

Is it just me or is Geoffrey actually the one with the most… modern mindset out of all the knights starring in the saga? There are a couple of specific scenes that kind of make me think of him as an outlier among his peers, and although some of those are definitely there for the purpose of showing us that Martewall is indeed a rather peculiar knight, others contribute to creating the picture of a character that is almost… out of place in the 13th century? 

Allow me to expand a bit further on the “Geoffrey and women” topic: we saw how chivalrous and respectful Geoffrey was towards an unconscious and injured Brianna. First he made sure her son was comfortable with him warming her up using his own body, and reassured him he meant no disrespect by removing her clothes; then, he proceeded to strip her in the most methodical and detached way possible, which let us know Geoffrey respects a woman’s body and modesty the way any proper, courteous medieval man would. But then there’s another, and in my opinion far more interesting, instance in which Geoffrey is seen interacting with a woman: I’m talking about his brief conversation with Blanche of Castile in book 3. Here we see 1) how Geoffrey treats women he is not attracted to (“not attracted to” as in: women he has no interest in romancing), and 2) to what degree he actually respects female authority. 

Our first introduction to Blanche is the scene in which Guillaume, Ian and Henri de Bar are talking about her right before the audience in Paris, during which we learn that the vast majority of noblemen do not take her opinions seriously and do not appreciate seeing her talk during political debates. Even Henri de Bar, although he does not mean to be insolent, raises an eyebrow at the thought of a woman participating in conversations that concern military strategy, while Guillaume seems almost amused at Ian’s heartfelt defence of her speeches. Which is why Geoffrey’s brief interaction with her stands out so much: when she starts talking about the war in England with him, he carefully listens to her as if she were just another male superior officer: he does not appear even slightly surprised by her competence, he does not try to dumb down the topic of discussion, he listens carefully to what she is saying, he offers his opinion only when she asks for it and he answers her questions in the most straightforward way possible. At no point during the conversation does he ever attempt to pull the condescending “with all due respect, madame…” to correct or contradict her statements. He is not in courteous knight mode, he is in soldier mode, and is unfazed by the fact that the one he is discussing logistics and war strategy with is a delicate looking princess.  Once again, the author is fleshing out Geoffrey’s character by having the protagonist and point of view character draw a direct comparison between him and other men. Martewall does not simply respect women as in “oh I’m a proper knight and I use my blade to protect defenceless maidens”, he actually, genuinely respects women. 

Which in my opinion is such an interesting facet of his values and personality: in the second half of book 2, Ian notices how thoroughly Harald Martewall managed to drill the code of chivalry into his son’s head, and remarks on the fact that the Martewalls are all perfect examples of the True Old School Knights. Both Harald and Geoffrey are the embodiment of the honourable, unyielding, upright warrior trope, and they perfectly fit the image we modern people conjure in our minds when we think of a knight of the Middle Ages. This specific aspect of Geoffrey’s set of values gives his character a strong, let’s say “old-fashioned” connotation, and yet said set of values seems to come from an internal source rather than rely on tradition and external rules. He, for example, got rid of his helm and shield when he saw his adversary in combat was not fully equipped, but he also willingly assisted the Dauphin in taking over England despite having previously sworn an oath of loyalty to John Plantagenet, since his sense of honour compelled him to aid the man who provided him with the help he needed to get his home back. Geoffrey is way more likely to base his choices on what his own moral compass compels him to do rather than resort to convention and tradition to tell right from wrong. This makes Geoffrey a perfect blend of both old and modern qualities, and in the context of his relationship with women he tends to lean quite heavily on his more modern side.  

Let’s go back to discussing his first introduction to Brianna for a second: he witnesses Brianna express her unrequited attraction to Ian, flirt with him and even mock-kiss him straight on the lips, and yet not only does that not make Geoffrey respect her any less, it also does not concern him at all later in book 3 when the story hints at the fact that he might have an interest in taking her as his wife. This is a rather unusual attitude! I mean, even the exuberant Etienne de Sancerre, who has shown an overt preference for feisty and confident women, grumbles and protests in jealousy when his wife Donna and Daniel greet each other with a hug while out in public, deeming the gesture to be inappropriate. What I’m trying to say here is that this is a man who is waaaaay ahead of his peers in regards to his view of women and womanhood, and who also appears to be very confident in his masculinity (so confident, in fact, that the thought of having to “put women in their place” never once crosses his mind), hence why I keep sensing the most excellent kind of bisexual vibes coming from him.

Exhibit B: Geoffrey and men

2.1 Jerome and Geoffrey’s friendship makes NO sense

And I mean it. Yes, we do read about Ian wondering how two people with such different sets of core values (ok maybe Jerome lacked core values all together lol) could have ever been friends, which means that yes, readers are in fact meant to notice how misguided Geoffrey is in his commitment to honour this bond of friendship and avenge Jerome’s death, but the more I think about this, the more I convince myself that this whole situation is, in fact…really weird.

Let’s start from the beginning: so, Geoffrey’s anger over Jerome’s death is the main source of conflict between him and Ian, and it puts the plot of book 2 in motion. Now, we never actually saw Geoffrey and Jerome talk to each other in book 1 (because at the time of its drafting the author had not yet planned on writing a sequel for it) so all the available details about their relationship (mind you, there aren’t that many) have to be gleaned from Geoffrey’s recollections present in book 2 and pieced back together in order to get a clearer picture. Another fact that should be noted is that we also never saw Jerome talk about Geoffrey (again, because Geoffrey wasn’t really that relevant to the plot of book 1): Geoffrey’s words are the only source available when it comes to trying to reconstruct what their interactions might have been like, which means that our perspective on their friendship is going to be inevitably, extremely one-sided. 

So here we go, book 2, chapter 5: Geoffrey has decided to abduct Ian and Daniel and drag them to his home in England to get some answers and avenge Jerome’s death and he currently has Ian at his mercy, so he immediately starts asking questions. He asks why he currently is not home, he asks why his brother has no knowledge of his whereabouts, he asks if his name really is Jean Marc de Ponthieu, and these are all very dangerous questions: they pose a real threat to Ian’s credibility. But then, when Geoffrey asks why Jerome was so certain he was an imposter, Ian breathes in relief, because that means Geoffrey knows nothing about the ambush in Couronne.

But. Wait a second.

How could Geoffrey possibly not know about Couronne? That’s how Derangale KNEW without a shadow of a doubt that Ian and Jean de Ponthieu were never the same person! Dude was busy forging incriminating letters left and right with Ponthieu’s help??? He was the one who helped Ponthieu and Renaud De Dammartin set Isabeau up to be assaulted by Claude de Dammartin??? Geoffrey explicitly says Jerome was obsessed with Ian, so Derangale must have talked his ear OFF with all his incessant rambling about him being an imposter…and Geoffrey did not bother asking him about the details of this weird doppelganger theory of his ONCE? We know how sharp and observant Geoffrey is. We know he is perceptive, and straightforward in voicing his opinions, and not easy to fool. We know he is the type of guy who likes to ask direct questions and get believable, clear answers in return, so he MUST have asked Jerome why he was so sure about the illegitimacy of Ian’s identity. How did Jerome answer? Did he make up a lie on the spot? Geoffrey is equipped with a very functional built-in anti-nonsense super-sensor (the one that allowed him to immediately spot all the places in which Ian’s deception and intentional gaslighting were coming off at their seams even after Ian had managed to convince Geoffrey’s own father that he was Jean de Ponthieu’s second-born son), so if that was the case – if Jerome had indeed tried to make up some story about why he knew who the real Jean de Ponthieu was – Geoffrey (in theory) would have easily been able to tell that he was being lied to. 

Do we then have to assume Jerome simply replied with “I just know”? Well…the text implies that this is the most plausible option: as Ian and Geoffrey’s heated conversation goes on, we realize that the only reason Geoffrey believes Ian to be an imposter is…because Jerome said so. And this, in my opinion, says a lot about both Geoffrey’s relationship with Derangale and his current emotional state. Let’s really think about what this little kidnapping stunt of his must look like from an outside perspective: Geoffrey just decided to abduct a man whose identity has been publicly confirmed by Guillaume de Ponthieu, one of the most powerful men on French soil, who also happens to be a relative of king Philippe Auguste (which means Ian has ties to the royal family as well lol???), who ALSO confirmed that Ian is the youngest Ponthieu brother and PERSONALLY BESTOWED the title of Faucon du Roi upon him. Geoffrey does not (currently) have a shred of proof against Ian: he just chose to believe that Ian is some random foreigner who has been allowed to pretend to be a nobleman and marry Isabeau de Montmayeur by the count of Ponthieu and the king of France because that’s what Jerome believed. Jerome stood alone in front of the entire French court, subjecting himself to ridicule, to denounce Ian as an imposter and Guillaume as a liar (and readers know he is 100% right, but look at this from the perspective of one of the characters who are not involved in this intrigue), which are such far-fetched, absurd, ludicrous accusations, even the closest of Jerome’s friends would have demanded at least some evidence in order to give his version of the story some credit. And yet Geoffrey, who has not been given even one crumb of information on the real Jean de Ponthieu’s actual political alignment, simply decided to stand with him against the rest of the world. 

And then, Ian starts answering Geoffrey’s questions by telling him all the vile things Jerome did to him, his family and his friends (while still carefully avoiding the Couronne topic): he tells him of his sadism, villany and criminal actions, and Geoffrey does not believe a single word of what he’s saying. He straight up calls all these accusations lies, and he urges Ian to stop insulting a knight of England his peer and a man of honour deserving of respect. Geoffrey refuses to listen to any negative remark Ian has to make and threatens him with violence when he insists on calling Jerome an unworthy man. ��Jerome wasn’t a liar”, he says; “he was my friend, and you killed him”. This is exactly what I meant when I said their friendship strikes me as extremely weird: I mean come on, really? Derangale was a textbook piece of shit. He was violent, vengeful, and arrogant, and yet Geoffrey describes him as a “man of honour”??? It almost seems as if he and Ian are not even talking about the same person??? The sadistic felon Ian met in Cairs is nothing like the friend Geoffrey has such a high opinion of. Which can only mean one thing, namely that when he was with Geoffrey, Jerome was on his best behaviour. And in order to have adapted his behaviour to fit Geoffrey’s expectations of a good and honourable friend, Derangale must have had a very clear picture of the kind of person his “friend” was. Jerome knew Geoffrey would never have allowed all that malicious shit to happen under his watch, so he decided to keep all his plotting a secret from him. Geoffrey never was Jerome’s accomplice in aiding Renaud de Dammartin, Ferrand de Flandre and Jean de Ponthieu steal the Montmayeur fief for king John, and therefore has no reason to believe Ian’s words. 

There are two things about this situation that strike me as particularly weird. First of all: Derangale wasn’t just witholding information from Geoffrey, he was also hiding his true nature from him. And Geoffrey…never noticed? Geoffrey, who can usually smell bullshit and deception from a mile away, who has no difficulty in telling a man of honour from a felon, who normally would not bother wasting his time being friends with such an insufferable prick, never managed to guess the true nature of Jerome’s character? Huh??? And secondly: why exactly did Derangale ask for help from a guy he was so sure he would never have been able to turn into one of his accomplices he had to actively keep parts of himself and his plans hidden for months up to the battle in Bouvines? What we know, thanks to Harald Martewall, is that Jerome was the first to reach out to Geoffrey back in book 1: apparently, the two of them used to be friends as young boys, then stopped seeing each other for a couple of years until Derangale decided to pick up the phone and give him a call. Geoffrey was in England, minding his own business, when Jerome contacted him to ask if he was willing to join him in Béarne. He, as sir Harald recalls, “was busy raising a cavalry troop for Ferrand De Flandre, and wanted my last-born as champion in a tournament”. It is not difficult to guess why Derangale asked specifically for Geoffrey to join his faction. Martewall is, simply put, the baddest bitch in the area: he is easily the scariest and most skilled warrior out of all the knights we get to meet in the saga, and an experienced tournament champion is precisely what Jerome needs for the little show he has in plan for Béarne. What I really want to know here is: couldn’t Derangale have called for literally any other English knight to help him win? Why did he risk enrolling a guy he knew would never have approved of his schemes and totally could have kicked his ass if he ever found out about his misconduct? Couldn’t he have called for a couple more champions who would have been overjoyed at the opportunity of beating the shit out of all those French knights? Why did it have to be just him and Geoffrey against the ENTIRETY of Philippe Auguste’s lineup? Why was he so confident in his ability to manipulate Geoffrey? Oh AND. This is an information that is nowhere to be found in the actual books but it is something I asked the author to confirm because I was just too curious: Geoffrey…did not have fun in Béarne, like at all. He did not care for the show Jerome wanted to put on, he did not enjoy participating in that display of strength and superiority, and he was grumpier than usual during the whole ordeal. So our man Jerome basically decided to rely exclusively on Geoffrey’s excellence and made him travel all the way to Béarne instead of putting together a slightly larger faction of fellows who could have maybe shared his immoral cause (like hello?????? it’s literally JUST the two of them against ALL the French nobles competing at the tournament lmfao??? I mean ok girl!!! give us drama! give us spectacle!) despite knowing that 1) he would have had to completely alter his behaviour around him 2) he could never have explained to him why he knew with absolute certainty Ian was an imposter and 3) Geoffrey would have intensely disliked being at the centre of theatrics. Like…I get that Geoffrey is your most skilled friend when it comes to the art of jousting, but… his presence is also a bit too inconvenient in this context? I mean really? You didn’t know any other knights in the area who could have been available as champions? You had to call for Geoffrey? Specifically for him? Haha girl ok! (oh and you also saved some of the custom higher quality blades you had made for your squadron to arm Geoffrey? Ok! Oh and you decided to pick Geoffrey as the other leader of your special squadron? Girl Ok!!! The guy would leave your ass in less than a second if he ever found out about your awful crimes so keeping him at your side is quite the risky move, but you do you I guess).

And another thing is, not only did Geoffrey hate every second of that charade, he (and this is also information that I got directly from the author) was downright shocked at Derangale’s unprompted act of violence against the young count of Grandpré… that was something that caught him completely off guard and that left a bitter taste in his mouth. It makes total sense for Geoffrey to feel this way, that’s very in character for him. What actually, really surprises me is Geoffrey’s reaction at hearing Ian mention this particular incident. You were there, says Ian, you saw Derangale attempt to kill a friend of mine with your own two eyes, and yet you insist on threatening me for calling him a criminal and an assassin. And that’s what finally prompts Geoffrey to lay hands on him. He silences him with a slap so violent it almost makes him fall on the ground. Geoffrey reacted with anger and disbelief when Ian was describing him heinous crimes that he never witnessed and did not believe to be true, but only resorted to physical violence when Ian forced him to acknowledge and condemn an action he actually saw Jerome commit. This brief scene alone is enough for me to confidently conclude that Geoffrey is, there are no other words fit to describe his current emotional state, deep in DENIAL. He hears an uncomfortable truth he has no way of denying, he lets that send him into a violent rage, he acts that violence out and then he ends the whole conversation there. He just. Leaves. And he repeats the same exact pattern of behaviour a second time! Book 2, chapter 12: Martewall starts to interrogate Daniel, who tells him about Derangale’s first attempt at kidnapping Isabeau AND manages to have one of his own men confirm his story. Then Geoffrey becomes visibly agitated, to the point he inadvertently breaks the rod he brought to beat information out of his prisoner in fucking two, CHANGES THE TOPIC OF DISCUSSION ON PURPOSE, and then when Daniel insists on bringing the conversation back to Derangale’s crimes he draws his sword, points it at him in another fit of anger and then! He LEAVES!! AGAIN!!! Bro???????????? You keep saying you “want the truth” and yet when you finally get it you cut the conversation off because you don’t like what you’re hearing? Hello???

“You insist on defending him only because you do not want to admit you have been lied to and manipulated by him”, this is what Daniel says to Martewall’s face, and the most articulate rebuttal he is able to come up with on the spot is “that is not true”. He absolutely did not expect to be confronted with such merciless answers, and he has no idea how to cope with Ian and Daniel ripping into the image of the good and honourable Jerome that only exists in his mind, so he just rejects anything negative they have to say and breaks things like a moody teenager.

His behaviour is extremely erratic. For the entirety of the first half of book 2, Geoffrey is clearly not his usual self. His own father tells him he does not recognize him anymore. And when Sir Harald confronts him and makes an attempt at urging him to release Daniel, Geoffrey reacts with something I would almost describe as a…temper tantrum? Sir Harald’s request for an explanation from his son is more than legit: after all, he just learned from Daniel that Geoffrey decided to kidnap a renowned nobleman on a whim, without any evidence of his supposed crimes, WITHIN THE BORDERS OF HIS FIEF IN FRENCH LANDS. That could get them in SERIOUS trouble with both his brother Guillaume de Ponthieu and Philippe Auguste himself, as Salisbury will later remark on. I mean, this action is not only dishonourable, as Sir Harald will be very quick to point out, but also extremely stupid. And Geoffrey is not stupid. Like, at all. He knows when to shut up, his rage is usually under check, he is not prone to acting out in anger or taking rash decisions. But here, Geoffrey is letting his emotions run rampant. His father is being perfectly reasonable, and he replies quite disrespectfully by stating that he is not a young boy anymore and that he will not allow for any reproach o interference on his part.

It should be noted that Geoffrey’s troubled state of mind is not solely the result of Jerome’s death. In fact, in chapter 12, Geoffrey makes it clear why he is so angry and frustrated. He lays out all of his reasons to his father:

“I’ve always done my duty and I lost my honour because of those to whom I owed my loyalty. I fought loyally until the very end, I paid my defeat with imprisonment, only to discover at my release that my name is associated to those of a friend deemed a felon and a king judged a coward; I return to my homeland and I end up on a list of traitors because of you! I am forced to be subject to the last two accusations, but the first…that one I intend to acquit myself from with any means necessary. At this point, I have already lost my dignity as a knight and you are the last person who can reproach me for it, since you are the one who dealt me the final blow”.

Geoffrey’s words reveal that he is also doing all of this for himself. He is now more desperate than ever to prove Jerome was always in the right, since this seems to be the only means of coping with the loss of his precious honour. The thought of having been friends with a felon of this magnitude is something Geoffrey could never, ever tolerate, because what would this say about him as a person? This explains the state of denial he currently is in: he has done something he would normally see as despicable by kidnapping Ian in his own lands, but he could excuse acting like a vulgar bandit if only he managed to force a confession out of Ian and avenge Jerome’s death (have I already mentioned Geoffrey has NO business being mad about Jerome meeting his demise at Ian’s hands? Dude was killed in fair combat. On a battlefield. Ian did not assassinate him or anything of that sort, there simply are NO good reasons as for why Geoffrey could ever want to “avenge” his friend’s death?? like there’s literally nothing to avenge here??? Lol???). And although Geoffrey is indeed defending Jerome’s honour because he feels that his crimes, if proven true, could reflect badly on himself, Geoffrey’s words still betray real attachment and a genuine feeling of affection for Jerome. Ian himself will later recognize their bond as valid by directly comparing it to the sentiment of friendship he shares with Daniel. At the time of Ian’s abduction, Geoffrey did not yet know that he would eventually be forced to fight yet another war once he’d finally reach his home: at that point in the story, Geoffrey’s motives for taking Ian and Daniel as prisoners had little to do with him wanting to gain back the honour he now feels his father tore from him by ordering him to side with him against their king. The primary motivation for his disreputable conduct in chapters 4 to 10 was, in my opinion, grief.

Another thing that I find extremely interesting and that in a way contradicts what I mentioned above about Geoffrey not being able to tolerate the thought of having been friends with a criminal, is that once he starts to come to terms with the proof of Jerome’s misconduct…he never disavows their friendship. What he says once he finally accepts Ian as his friend and lets go of Jerome’s obsession is: “I did everything in my power to honour our friendship, going even beyond common sense”. He never tries to claim they were never really friends or proclaim he wants to cut all ties with such a man. And towards the end of book 3, when Geoffrey and Ian are discussing what Ian’s exile really implicates and Ian is finally forced to admit he never was Jean de Ponthieu, Geoffrey all of a sudden brings Derangale into their conversation to reflect on how Jerome was right all along and how happy he is to learn that he at least did not lie to him about this one specific thing. Well, maybe I’m reading too much into this, but I was expecting him to focus on the sheer amount of lies he had been fed by…you know, Ian, the friend who happens to be alive and whom he is currently confronting. He does not even seem interested in asking Ian to explain himself, it is Ian who apologises to him, completely unprompted. They were having a conversation about Philippe Auguste and Guillaume de Ponthieu wielding the power to destroy his life, and after several beats of silence and intense consideration, what Geoffrey decided to say out loud was “I’m happy Jerome didn’t lie to me about you”? Ummmmmmm ok??????????? Lying to him certainly was not the worst thing Jerome has ever done? What about the many crimes he committed against Ian, his friends and his family? What I’m trying to say here is that Daniel’s argument about Geoffrey having been manipulated by Jerome must have cut deep, since here he is, bringing this up again. Derangale died more than two years ago, and Geoffrey already gave up on trying to redeem his honour and reputation, but he appears to be still in the middle of the process of learning to truly let him go. Dealing with the idea of having been deceived in such a cold way by a close friend to whom he though he owed unwavering loyalty is proving to be challenging. I might be delusional but I can only make sense of the fact Geoffrey brought Jerome into their conversation about Ian only to briefly touch on a strictly personal matter that concerned his own feelings and his private relationship with Ian’s old archenemy if I assume Geoffrey was, at this point in time, still dealing with some very intense and complicated feelings (….furthermore…………it doesn’t…really…make sense…for Geoffrey to be happy about Jerome telling him that Ian’s identity was a hoax…since the whole point of telling him that…was getting his help in destroying Ian and not really “being honest” with him…like…Geoffrey, love, why are you so desperately hanging on to these miniscule scraps of “““honest and genuine interactions”””, why do you still treasure this literal MICROSCOPIC CRUMB of “““sincerity””” on Jerome’s part…hello…………………???). Sorry but this whole Jerome/Geoffrey mess just exudes one-sided, unfulfilled and unacknowledged tenderness in copious amounts once you really start to read into it. My personal interpretation of the situation is that Geoffrey is having such a hard time trying to make sense of the extent of Derangale’s manipulation and condemning him as someone who was always undeserving of his friendship and devotion because he completely lacks the tools to properly analyse and interpret his own feelings on the matter.

2.2 Geoffrey and Ian vs Geoffrey and Jerome

I’m touching briefly on Ian and Geoffrey’s friendship dynamics in book 3 mainly because I think that their relationship will provide me with some good clues and parallels that could be of help in determining what Geoffrey was like when he was in Jerome’s company, since the third instalment in the series gives us such a wonderful and complete picture of the kind of friend Geoffrey is. Remember how Geoffrey immediately sided with Ian against Gant without asking for evidence against him and came to Ian’s rescue twice despite having very important businesses to attend to? Geoffrey has repeatedly shown that he has a tendency to be aggressively protective of his closest friends, to the point he has no problem resorting to extreme violence to ensure their safety (Ian, bleeding on the floor, gripping Geoffrey’s arm: “please tell me you took at least one of my assailants alive I’m going to need a witness???????” Geoffrey: “…” Ian: “…” The pile of corpses right behind them: “…” Geoffrey: “…sorry lol I kinda dealt with them in a bit of a heavy handed way” Ian: whimpers and collapses in his arms). Geoffrey’s attitude in regards to Ian’s enemies perfectly explains why he never had any qualms siding with Jerome against Ian despite the fact Derangale wasn’t telling him shit about the supposed evidence behind his outlandish claims. This is actually part of his regular pattern of behaviour: Geoffrey has consistently shown a thorough commitment towards undying trust and unconditional support through direct action. He might seem cold and aloof since he is never seen behave in an overtly friendly or approachable way when he is out in public (he also does not smile ONCE throughout the whole trilogy), but this right here is, in my opinion, a very affectionate man who is capable of forming true and intimate bonds with a handful of hand-picked men whose company he deeply treasures. Let’s talk about how Geoffrey U-turned at the speed of light to go back and help Ian corner Gant even though he was in the middle of carrying out an extremely important mission for Blanche of Castile. Let’s talk about how Derangale did not even have the time to fall to the ground after Ian delivered him the finishing blow, because Geoffrey literally teleported behind him to catch him, hoist him on his horse and take him to safety (let’s also talk about how Ian later found Derangale’s corpse among those of all the abandoned fallen soldiers the imperial army was not able to retrieve, and saw that his dead body had been laid on a shield with care, which means Geoffrey probably was the one responsible for preserving his dignity in death since we know for a fact he was there to hear Derangale’s last words and witness him die – I am literally about to start screaming please send help :)))))))). Do not let his grumpiness and harsh words fool you, Geoffrey is the most dedicated best friend another knight could ever ask for.

HOWEVER, the main difference between the two relationships I am comparing is that Geoffrey’s support of Ian is always unconditional, but never irrational in the same way his pursuit of revenge on Jerome’s behalf was, and at no point in the story does Geoffrey fail in evaluating Ian’s character or intentions. Furthermore, Ian’s gaslighting game was ON POINT in book 2, he was warping reality around Geoffrey like a damn magician, but Geoffrey never fully bought into his carefully crafted lies. And yet I am expected to believe that Derangale was such a skilled master manipulator he was able to conceal his true nature and agenda from Geoffrey for months? Hello??? PLEASE! Make it make sense!!! The ease with which Derangale was able to withold crucial information from him is extremely suspicious. Really? You mean to tell me Jerome Derangale had one of the least gullible people in the saga wrapped around his finger for years and never once slipped and misbehaved in front of him? Sorry I know at this point I must sound extremely redundant but Geoffrey’s selective blindness towards anything that concerns Derangale really is the weirdest thing ever, like, uh oh! Are you sure you didn’t catch any overly soft feelings for your bestie? So…I’m gonna say it: my theory on why Geoffrey’s behaviour was all over the place in the first chapters of book 2 is that he has always been completely unaware of the true nature and extent of his emotional attachment to Derangale, and this cluelessness of his contributed to worsening his already frustrated state. Furthermore, I also think Derangale must have noticed something was going on with Geoffrey and decided to use it to his advantage. Dude was a bit too confident, suspiciously confident in his ability to keep Geoffrey at his side without having to disclose any kind of compromising information.

In conclusion:

What I’m trying to say here is that I’m pretty convinced Geoffrey Martewall is not one of the straights. To sum all of this up, he:

-drinks astronomical amounts of his own extra strong brew of respect women juice on a daily basis

-has a tendency to get very attached to a few selected male friends who he then proceeds to protect with everything he has

-never noticed his old friend (👀) was lying to him, acted in a very out of character and erratic way for a while after his old friend’s (👀👀) death and was ready to commit actual crimes in an attempt to honour his old friend’s (👀👀👀) memory.

So. Yeah. The bi vibes are there. I would rather die than give up my Clueless Bisexual King Geoffrey Martewall headcanons! Sorry but a straight Geoffrey would make zero sense to me. Your honour can’t you see!!! this guy is WAY too cool not to be bi!!!

I rest my case.

P.S. I cannot BELIEVE I’m actually posting this monster on the day of the anniversary of the battle of Bouvines??? I swear I didn’t do it on purpose, at first I was really annoyed at the fact that putting this together was taking me weeks but then yesterday while I was editing I realized I would eventually be able to publish this on the very day Derangale died and Geoffrey was taken prisoner :’’) Perfect timing am I right?

[hadjalterdoneanythingwrong]

You are [Avenger].

You are the child of a loving mother, and a... dedicated father.

Since before your conception, you knew your purpose.

You were to stand among your parents, and your brethren, and even your elders, and carry out your duties, just as they do.

With this purpose, you were happy.

You are [Avenger].

The time came for you to enter this world.

You were... excited.

You couldn't wait to show everyone what you could do.

You couldn't wait to make your father proud.

You couldn't wait to see your mother's bright eyes, and her warm smile.

You are [Avenger].

Your birth was not met with warmth.

Your birth was not met with pride.

Your birth was not met with love.

Your birth was met with pain. With screams. With fear and chaos.

For time imperceivable by mankind, you had waited to manifest.

You are [Avenger].

Your excitement killed your mother.

Your joy burned her from the inside out.

Your love has brought ruin to your family, your people, your world.

And in his rage, your father looked upon you.

And all you saw were curses.

And all you saw was hatred.

And all you saw was the wish that you never were.

And you were beheaded.

And your remains were split eight ways.

And the burning remnants of you were cast into the ocean, where even still your endless power bled out, creating mountains of burning, primal sorrow.

You are [Avenger].

You watched as the world you were denied a part of continued to grow and develop from your cold and dark abyss-prison, only things were... different, now.

Things that used to continue for all eternity began to stop.

Decay. Destruction. Death.

Another byproduct of your birth.

You are [Avenger].

You watch the inhabitants of your former world start to grow themselves.

They learn of the events unfolded by your family.

They learn of you.

And they give you a name.

A name? Your family never bothered.

Your family never bothered with anything, other than to kill you.

These... tiny inhabitants of the world you were denied...

"Humans"?

They gave you a name.

A bright, almost... happy name.

You were almost... happy.

You are "Shining Force".

The ones who named you grow and live.

The ones who named you decay and die.

Your birth causes their demise.

And though you still are overcome with grief...

You watch them prosper.

You watch them expand.

You watch them pass stories and traditions through generations.

And though you cause their demise...

You can't help but love them.

You are Shining Force.

The ones you love outlast your family.

The ones you love start to forget your family.

The ones you love start to forget you.

You don't care.

You will watch them as long as you can.

You are Shining Force.

The ones you love... seem to remember your family's deeds.

You can tell, because they attempt to replicate the deeds themselves.

They are starting to resemble your family.

You are Shining Force.

You are worried.

The ones you love are... what would they call it themselves?

"Playing God".

They want to reach you.

Or at least power at your level.

You know what your power has done.

You are scared.

But you cannot stop watching.

You are Shining Force.

You follow them wherever they go.

You pick up on the things they do, the methods they resort to in their attempts to reach your potential.

You learn about an association.

You learn about a tower.

You learn about Servants, and the funny little things they call themselves.

A word calls out to you.

A word denoting a concept.

You are "Avenger".

"Avenger"? A role for those hellbent on rectifying mistakes, or so you understand.

You don't know why, but it feels... right.

There is a part of you that hopes others will call you by it someday.

You are Avenger.

You are alive.

You don't know where you are, but somehow you know this is where heroes are kept.

Amidst them all, you find your father.

Resting.

Unaware.

In ignorant bliss.

You take up the spear he used to create life.

You take up the sword he used to steal death.

In his slumber, you behead him, and you move on.

You are Avenger.

You hear a call.

A cry for help in another world.

A world that is dying.

A world that is atrophying.

With time, you learn to look inside.

You are able to leave messages, however brief.

You offer your help.

You offer your love.

You ask if anyone can hear you.

No one answers.

You are Avenger.

You hear a different call.

Same world.

But this call opens a gate; a bridge between realms that will only fit one.

You make your way there, before watching someone else take the gate.

Your heart drops.

But something... someone holds it open.

A voice you recognize calls out to you, though you don't know how you know it.

It feels like a dream.

A dream that tells you to push forward.

A dream that tells you to never give up.

A dream that tells you to always hold onto that excitement you had before you were born.

And the dream tells you to run.

To run as far away as you can.

Because your father will never be far behind.

So sword and spear in hand, you run.

You run until you find it.

The place that called for you.

A place where Servants gather.

The time came for you to enter this world... again.

You are... hopeful.

You are... happy.

You are... excited.

And you can't wait to show everyone what you can do.

You are the product of a dream.

You are the Avenger of Ame-no-Ukihashi.

And in your gracious excitement, your perpetual joy, your boundless love for humanity...

for as long as you continue to walk this earth, there will always be fire and death.

[johannstutt413]

(requested by calligomiles)

“So, just so I understand this properly,” the Doctor began, looking from one Operator to the other with a disappointed look in his eye, “the two of you got into a fight over which one of you was supposed to be my bodyguard during today’s shift?”

Gravel sighed. “When you say it like that, it does put it in a different light...but Doctor, can we really trust her to protect you the way I can?”

“My duty is protecting him,” ShiraYuki retorted, eyes narrowing at her competitor, who’d managed to catch her left eye with a fist.

“And the two of you fighting over who can watch over me doesn’t make that any easier.” He sighed. “I need the two of you to come to some kind of understanding, so...I’m sending you both on a mission. Just the two of you.”

They shared a glance before the Zalak spoke up. “Doctor, are you sure about this? Who will protect you while I’m gone.”

“Funnily enough, we have several Operators who’ve taken my guardianship as their personal responsibility, so it shouldn’t be too difficult to find someone. Of course, if the two of you can come to an agreement right now, we won’t have to resort to that...” Silence. “Well, then. Madam Ch’en has been given the instructions; I suggest you find her and listen carefully to her briefing. Complete the mission, and come back ready and able to cooperate rather than eviscerate. Have I made myself clear?”

“Yes, Doctor,” they said in unison.

It was probably best they didn’t catch that detail. “Good. Dismissed.”

“You just had to weasel your way into my time with the Doctor, didn’t you?” Gravel sighed as they left his office in a dark mood. “Why are you so obsessed with being his bodyguard, anyway?”

“My duty is protecting him. Yours?”

She blushed. “I...He’s very precious to me.”

“I see.” The Anaty kept silent for a moment before adding, “I agree.”

“You agree that he’s precious to me?” The Zalak asked, confused.

ShiraYuki shook her head. “I value him also...He’s been very kind to me.”

“So you do understand why I couldn’t just leave him with anyone else.” Gravel sighed. “But I’m still not okay with sharing him with you.”

“Understood. Perhaps in time.”

She shrugged. “Perhaps. Madam Ch’en? Operators Gravel and ShiraYuki reporting as ordered.” 

“Good. Sit down.” The Lung of Lungmen gestured to a pair of empty chairs, waiting for them to sit before continuing. “The Doctor’s mission for the two of you is as follows: take this envelope and a shuttle to the location marked by these coordinates. Once you arrive, open the envelope for the rest of your instructions.”

“...No further orders?” ShiraYuki asked.

Ch’en shook her head. “No further orders. Dismissed.”

“What a strange assignment.” Gravel shook her head as they left yet another office. “What do you make of it?”

“Team-building.”

The Zalak shuddered. “Team-building? Why make this out to be such an important mission if that’s all it is?”

“Ninjas work alone,” ShiraYuki observed, “as do you.”

“But he only sent the two of us...Who do you think is taking up the watch?” Gravel wrung her hands at the thought.

Hang on - the Anaty was, too. “...I don’t know.”

“Neither do I.” She groaned. “This is the worst punishment he could’ve chosen for me.”

“For us,” her companion agreed.

Gravel hesitated before nodding. “Right, for us. Alright, I suppose we’re taking a shuttle...This one looks good.” *swipe* “Can you drive?”

“Yes.” ShiraYuki settled into the driver’s seat. “Coordinates?”

“I’ll put them in. Music?”

The Anaty shrugged. “Hard rock?”

“Really?” She giggled. “I would’ve thought you listened to something more traditional.”

“Understandable.” The ninja pressed on the gas as the knight connected her phone to the shuttle’s speakers, and their assignment began.

The drive was long - long enough anyone else would’ve stopped for dinner. This was a pair on a mission, however, so they pressed on...and arrived, several hours later, at a hotel. “This...this can’t be right,” Gravel declared as they parked. The coordinates indicated otherwise.

“Envelope?” The Zalak slit it open, read the letter inside...and cringed. “...That bad?”

“The Doctor wrote this himself, I can tell. ‘Gravel and ShiraYuki: A room has been reserved for the two of you for the next week. Resolve your quarrel and return before the end of your reservation.’”

ShiraYuki stared. “We...have resolved it.”

“You think so?” Gravel turned back to her. “So if we go back right now, what do we tell him?”

“...I see.”

The knight sighed. “Yes, as do I. Let’s find out which room is ours, eat dinner, and then we can figure out our plan.”

“Understood.” The Anaty paused by the driver side door as she closed it. “Good music.”

“Thanks. It’s an expression of my inner pain.” She said it with a smile.

The ninja nodded. “Same.”

“Really?” They walked through the hotel entrance. “Reservation for two by Rhodes Island? Was ninja training that stressful?”

“Yes...and more.” ShiraYuki took the spare key Gravel handed her and pocketed it as they walked to the first-floor diner.

After finding a table and browsing their menu, the Zalak had another question. “You said your duty is to protect the Doctor, but you also said he’s important to you. Which takes priority?”

“I...” She’d expected that to be much simpler than her feelings were making it. “...I am sworn to my Master.”

“Would you kill him if your Master told you to?” Gravel had a hand resting on her steak knife as if waiting for a sign of future betrayal.

The Anaty stared at the table before staring into the knight’s soul. “No.”

“...I can tell you mean it.” She smiled at her. “If you’d said you would, you wouldn’t have left this table.”

“Understood...What’s your favorite thing about him?”

The Zalak’s eyes flared open. “You really want to know?”

“I do.” ShiraYuki nodded. “He’s our common ground.”

“That’s true. Let’s see...Where to start?” Gravel’s eyes closed as she tried to decide which of her infinite elements of admiration was her favorite.

They ended up talking about the Doctor for the next three hours; ShiraYuki’s own elevated opinion of him nearly equaled the knight’s in some regards, and knowing the Zalak for five minutes is enough to know how much she can gush about her beloved Doctor given the chance. Their conversation continued through the entirety of their meal, up the stairs to their room, and for a while after they’d changed into their nightwear and were lying on the single bed that’d been reserved for them. Why they hadn’t been given a two-bed suite is anyone’s guess...but neither of them were all that bothered by it.

Eventually, however, the conversation trailed off, and they laid there, looking directly at each other, for a few minutes. It was ShiraYuki who spoke first. “Your shoulder’s marked.”

“Mmhmm.” Gravel slid her shirt down to display the barcode the Anaty was referring to. “Before coming to Rhodes Island, I was a slave...the Doctor bought my freedom.”

“I see. Was it difficult?”

She nodded. “It was.”

“I see.” The silence returned, but not for long. “Do you love him?”

“I don’t know what else to call my feelings for him. If this devotion I have for him isn’t love, what is it?...Do you?” The knight watched the ninja’s eyes attentively.

She hesitated. “I...I may be.”

“Hmm.” The Zalak thought for a moment. “Before tonight, I didn’t think I would find someone whom I could trust with his care. With you protecting him, however? It will be almost like I’m there watching over him.”

“I see...Thank you, Gravel.”

The knight smiled. “ShiraYuki is your real name, yes?”

“Yes.” The Anaty nodded. “Yours?”

“Senomy,” she replied.

ShiraYuki fell silent again. “You’re willing to watch over him with me?”

“I am,” Gravel agreed. “Although we might have to take it in turns.”

“Hmm...I wouldn’t like that. I want you with me as well.”

Her gaze became a somewhat shocked stare. “You want to stand guard together?”

“Yes. It’s...” The ninja took a moment to catch her breath. It must’ve been years since she talked this much with someone. “I’ve never met someone who so fully understood me.”

“I feel the same, honestly.” The knight’s gaze slipped from the Anaty’s for just a moment, a flicker as she noted that ShiraYuki had taken off her mask and was smiling subtly at her.

That moment was all it took for the ninja to make her move.

-------

About six and a half days later, the Doctor was greeted by Gravel’s voice at his door. “Doctor? We’re back~”

“Come in.” The Zalak entered and closed the door behind her. “Where’s ShiraYuki?”

“Here,” she whispered into his ear.

He jumped a little in his seat but quickly regained his composure. “I see. You’ve decided to work together, then?”

“We’ve decided to share our shift,” Gravel explained, beaming at him. “Among other things.”

“‘Other things?’ Well, that’s none of my concern.”

The ninja kissed him on the cheek. “It is.”

“...Is it, now?” He looked up at the knight, who was locking the door, and then to the Anaty next to him. “Making up for lost time?”

“We missed you so much.” ShiraYuki walked back over to the Zalak, kissing her as well, albeit square on the lips.

Gravel giggled. “You’re so thoughtful, Yuki~”

“As happy as I am that things have worked out,” the Doctor said, “remind me not to try this method with other Operators.”

“We will,” they replied as they turned to him in unison.

...He wasn’t going to get much work done today, was he?

[groovypalacehorselover]

Forever alone

Ethan Ramsey X Casey Valentine

(My MC's name in default)

First time writing a fic in Tumblr actually.

All this is from Landry's pov

11:13 pm, the cold winds of winter had terrified any Boston citizen who didn't wear at least two layers of woollen clothing. Landry Olsen was sitting at the edge of the Donahue's bar. With the intention of not being recognised, he had his hoodie on. His colleagues were busy playing 'truth or shots' or whatever they called it.

He didn't join them, not because he wasn't interested but because he didn't want them to hate him too. Landry had told himself dozens of times that he won't resort to dirty methods if it wasn't absolutely necessary.

But no matter how much he resisted, he always gave in to the dark tricks because of which he doesn't work at Edenbrook anymore. Landry looked over at the table where the other Kenmore's doctors were laughing and having fun, he could almost remember a memory similar to this...

No

Landry stopped in his thoughts, no matter what happened he never thought about them anymore. Maybe he did two years ago when he had just joined Mass Kenmore for his second year of residency, but not anymore. But maybe the alcohol is finally hitting him. He looked at his watch, [11:25] 35 minutes more to go. He had heard that a 'certain' group of Edenbrook's doctors had made it a tradition to gather outside and wait till midnight at the last day of their year to celebrate, and he had a pretty good idea who they were. He is certain that it was Casey's idea to make it a tradition, she always took any opportunity to make her friends happy.

Landry somehow found that obnoxious, she was always so cheerful, always having the backs of other people, even if in the end she would take what they were after and crush their dreams Infront of them. She was always meddling with other people's business. If she would have ignored the woman on her first day, she wouldn't have performed hemothorax with Ethan Ramsey. If she didn't follow Ramsey that one day she wouldn't have found or worked on Dr. Banerji . If she didn't bother about Mrs.Martinz, the woman wouldn't have been killed! If she didn't do a background check on Senator's work then she wouldn't have been poisoned. If she didn't join the competition like she said she would, he would be the one working with Ethan Ramsey today.

"I don't think it was so packed a few hours ago!"

Landry froze, he didn't think that he would see them or even her tonight. He glanced at the entrance of the bar, Casey was standing at her tiptoes staring at the crowd which was busy getting drunk. And just beside her was-

"Let's go find your friends, before they get suspicious", Dr. Ramsey said as he put his hand on the small of Casey's back as in to guide her in the bar.

Landry narrowed his eyes, a superior should not be touching their subordinate so casually, it was even more odd for Ethan Ramsey to do it. I mean, it's Ethan Ramsey for heaven's sake! Professionalism is as important to the guy as medicine itself.

But then again, maybe it's not him.

"What's even there to be suspicious about? You've made it quite clear where we went" Casey said with a smirk on her face.

Landry slightly shifted from his seat, closer to them to hear what their saying.

There was no doubt, this was Dr. Ramsey. No one can be of that height, sound like him, look like him, and not be him.

But why was he with Casey? Why was he smiling at her? Why was he so happy to be beside her?!

Questions burned Landry's brain when suddenly something shocking happened. It was so sudden he didn't even get to react. For him the whole world went quiet.

Casey stood on her tiptoes and kissed him.

And he returned it.

Wrapping his arms around her waist like a lover, melting into her lips…

Dr. Ethan Ramsey kissed Casey.

Landry wasn't angry or even disappointed. He was plain shocked.

Finally Casey broke the kiss and put her forehead against his, "let's go find them", Ethan gave her another kiss on her forehead and said, "After you."

Landry abruptly stood up, made his way to the exit away from them.

"Olsen! Come join us for this round." He heard a female voice behind him. He spun around to see a group of Kenmore's residents looking at him, they had a freshly ordered round of shots on the table which they were sitting around of.

"Sorry I can't, I feel like I might puke if I took another shot" Landry lied with a forced smile. "Aw, boo! Fine go run home," said the female doctor who invited him for their game.

[1:48am]

Landry laid on his bed staring at the ceiling. Why was he even bothered? It had nothing to do with him. But Landry felt angry, a newly found hate for Casey.

So this is the reason why she won the competition? Because Dr. Ramsey wanted to win her affection? Because she managed to seduce him? Not because she was better than Landry?--

It suddenly hit him.

She has always been better than him, in medicine, in talking, in luck and even as a person.

Dr. Ramsey was never biased. It was Landry who choose to ignore this.

And now it will haunt him forever.

But nevertheless, he felt that the world was being unjust. Why does she get to be happy? Why was she the one who stumbled upon Dr. Banerji? Why couldn't it have been him?

He also worked hard. He also saved lives. He was also a doctor. Then why not him?

Landry gave a humourless chuckle. Perhaps it was karma. Karma of being a bad person who can only win by cheating. But maybe one day his dept will be paid, and he too will get to take part in something great.

Bonus!

The clock hit midnight, and the bar went wild. People celebrating the end of their intern year, some celebrating the end of their residency.

Sienna excitedly hugged Casey. "We are now attendings!" She squealed.

"Maybe you are but I'm not." Bryce said as he brought another tray of shots. "But now that you are, you better not chicken from drinking all this"

Sienna looked with horror as he put the tray down on the table, "This is the only reason why you are my friend" Jackie said grinning, she grabbed two shots from the table.

Casey hugged herself and let out a sigh. It was nice seeing all her friends stay together and have fun, even when Edenbrook is now under Bloom's sharp gaze.

"Feeling cold?"

She heard an oh so familiar voice behind her, "a little yes" she replied.

Ethan pulled Casey close to him, wrapping his arms around her and resting his chin on her head. Such public affection was regular now that everyone knew about them. Still, the way his heart went haywire, he'll never be used to it.

The bar had jazz blasting through its speakers, and the people in it were somehow even louder. But all Ethan was able to consecrate upon was the woman in his arms.

There is no doubt about it, he loved her.

I hope you enjoyed this fic! And if you did please share it with fellow Ethan X MC stans.

[itsbenedict]

Two-Faced Jewel: Session 10

Connections

A half-elf conwoman (and the moth tasked with keeping her out of trouble) travel the Jewel in search of, uh, whatever a fashionable accessory is pointing them at. [Campaign log]

Last time, the party arrived in Cauterdale, the heavily-fortified port city at war with nature. They arrived in search of members of the Deathseekers' Guild- the organization of professional adventurers and monster-hunters that likes to be very up-front about its mortality rate- to handle a dragon problem that they're personally a little underleveled for.

While Looseleaf had a fateful encounter with the Plot at the Temple of Andra, Saelhen and Oyobi were headed to the barracks of the city guard, to speak to "Mags", the guard on duty when the local Deathseekers were last seen leaving town. And there...

You remember Medd Cutter, right? Highly-memorable Medd Cutter, the NPC who got oneshot by a T-rex and whose life the party saved? Well, to spite Rex... whatever his last name was, the pro-patria-mori asshole guard captain guy, Saelhen has decided that she's going to start spreading the word of Medd's heroism.

Oyobi, unfortunately, is bent on spreading the word of her own extremely ill-advised heroism, and so the two are having some sort of hype-off as they make their way into the barracks and effortlessly charm their way past the guards to where their quarry is posted.

These two are manning some sort of huge brass contraption, bristling with lenses and dials. One of them is a yuan-ti pureblood- which there are an unusual number of in the city guard, compared to the general population. Weird. Saelhen politely introduces herself, and Verity Truescale refers them to Magnaranth aka Mags, the loxodon who last saw the Deathseekers leave town.

Mags doesn't have a huge amount to tell them- the Deathseekers, evidently, were going hunting, out east somewhere. They brought a lot of torches, so apparently they were headed somewhere dark? Underground, maybe? They were pretty cagey about what exactly they were going out to do. Still, Mags can provide the names and addresses of the Deathseekers in question.

...And Verity, checking the instruments, notices that something is wrong with the tides- apparently something large is disturbing the waters, but they can't quite pinpoint what- it's not any of the usual suspects, which include things by the name of "Darkie" or "Unnessie". Ominous!

After that, the party meets up at the local Temple of Iska, their designated rendezvous point. They catch each other up on their gains, and decide... well, the Deathseekers are going to be back within a couple days, so they'll just wait for them in town and get going with them, to make sure things in Barley and Wheat go smoothly.

Of course, the question then is "where do we stay?"

Options aren't great- Cauterdale is crowded, and the B&B market is incredibly shitty. The best lodging is on Eman's Knee, the island just off the coast of Cauterdale, but getting the ferry over there is expensive, and resort lodging on a tropical island is also expensive.

That- you can't just- I mean, just because- I'm- I'm allowed to be predictable, okay???

(And anyway, it's Corolos where I ended up doing a murder mystery.)

So, Looseleaf gets a 24 investigating the town's B&B market, and finds a pretty good place! It's a weapons shop Saelhen noticed earlier, which is renting out rooms. The place has a huge fence topped with spikes, so they probably won't even get robbed!

Aria of War, as it happens, is run by an elderly yet ripped-as-hell tabaxi man, who Saelhen... vaguely recognizes.

Benedict I. (GM): So, this shopkeeper's coat is familiar to you. It's definitely not the same person, but you once knew a girl in Timber Towers named Toothbrush, with almost the exact same coat. Could be a relative! Saelhen du Fishercrown: Yeah, tabaxi have a lot of coat variation; it's not a safe bet that they're related, but Saelhen is willing to go out on a limb with him. "Good evening, sir, and I'm sorry to bother you, but I felt I had to ask..." Fish Especially: "No discounts." Saelhen du Fishercrown: "Do you have any relation to a..." Was Toothbrush her real name? Benedict I. (GM): As far as you know! Tabaxi have weird names. Saelhen du Fishercrown: "Toothbrush?" Fish Especially: He looks surprised. "Hold on, you know Toothbrush?" Saelhen du Fishercrown: "...I knew I knew that speckle pattern." Saelhen smiles widely and without guile. "I met her in Timber Towers a while back. She played the violin." "More specifically, she couldn't play the violin, but she always failed very effectively." Fish Especially: "I'll be! Her theatre troupe doing all right for itself, then?" "Even with the noise of that awful thing?" "I never know what to think when she writes those letters..." Saelhen du Fishercrown: "Last I saw of them, they were doing pretty well for themselves! To be honest, I did a stint with them for a bit, they wanted advice on a traditional elven piece..." Saelhen leans in on her elbows. "Oh, she mangled it, but she compensated with charm and that one face. Her confident face, you know the one, where you think she's so confident that maybe it's supposed to sound like that?" Fish Especially: He laughs. "You do know my girl!" "She hasn't written in- I think a year, now. How's she been?" Saelhen du Fishercrown: "Oh, it's been so long, I'm barely an authority by now -- but I remember she was talking about taking classes in -- what was it..." "...oh, where are my manners -- I'm Saelhen du Fishercrown, it's a pleasure." Saelhen reaches out for a very unelven handshake.

That she says this is notable for one big reason: this is the first time she's used her real name, and not "Lady Noeru de la Surplus". Nobody else in the party has heard this before!

It's also notable because according to Fish Especially, Toothbrush thought Saelhen was dead- and he's going to let her know otherwise.

Anyway, the deal for rooms goes through without incident, and the night also goes without incident! As is entirely normal, they hear Vayen in the halls making some sort of attempt to sneak into Saelhen's room in the night... and this time, sighing and going "never mind" without even attempting to pick the lock for some reason.

In the morning... Looseleaf grills Saelhen on the name thing, and she confesses the truth of the matter to the whole party- who take it fairly well.

After team bonding, the party heads to the Temple of Andra to check in and see if the Deathseekers have showed up. And by the stablehand's account, they have- or at least, a bunch of weird old people showed up to meet with Gabbro.

Gabbro seems surprised to see them- he was under the impression that they'd leave the matter to them. The further involvement of the party should be unnecessary, right...?

Looseleaf: "Oh, yeah, I was going to let you know we were staying in town and ask for you to let us know when the deathseekers showed up, but, uh, judging by that meeting we interrupted, they're already back and right here." Gabbro: "That is correct," he says, as the stablehand leaves. "I was just briefing them on the mission, you see." "The situation is well in hand, so you needn't concern yourselves with it any longer." "That pesky dragon shouldn't be an issue." Looseleaf: "W-well, uh. I was, uh, we were, kiiiinda hoping to travel with you back to the dragon's tower." "I mean, it's our quest, so, it'd be nice to, for us to see it happening so we can be sure of it, y'know?" Gabbro: He looks somewhat taken aback. "That... seems... risky, don't you think?" "To bring along... certain... people?" Looseleaf: "We're going to stay very very far away from the action! We're not that dumb!" Saelhen du Fishercrown: "...I assure you that we have no intention of fighting the dragon ourselves, sir." Gabbro: "Ah, yes, of course not..." "However..." He gives Looseleaf a pleading look. Saelhen du Fishercrown: "And there are... certain persons in the nearby town, whose safety I would like to check up on. Personally." Looseleaf: He doesn't seem to want people witnessing the fight? It could be explicable through just, him being worried we'll get hurt. But it could also be, 'their deathseekers fight with methods that Orluthe in particular should not be allowed to witness.' Gabbro: "Ah, well, if that's the case... if you don't mean to get involved with the Deathseekers and their work..." Looseleaf: "We're not going to- we don't want any claim to the loot in the tower either, if that's a problem! Everything in the tower is you and your group's prerogative to deal with however we like."

Gabbro seems... put slightly more at ease, and decides to introduce the group to the ones who'll be their traveling companions shortly- the Cauterdale Deathseekers.

In order:

Doon Softbreeze, half-halfling rogue and all-around Grunkle Stan-type, friendliest with the party.

Kevin Softbreeze, Doon's soft-spoken herbalist husband and that's it, probably, just a gardener.

John Human, an extremely decrepit extremely human man who seems to make weird buzzing sounds when he speaks, as if with mouthparts instead of human lips.

Ryuusatsu Takuma, totally silent elf (not present at this meeting with Gabbro) who probably just doesn't like talking, is all.

Lady Fidelia Greatholder, heavily-armored and heavily-everything human noblewoman (also not present at this meeting), who- well, she shows up next session.

Gabbro makes a point of making clear to those present that Orluthe, who they'll be traveling with, is a cleric of Diamode- apparently they need to know this for some reason!

Doon's pretty friendly with the party, and offers to take on their job pro-bono- on the basis that, c'mon, if they could actually afford them, they wouldn't be knocking on their door for help. So it looks like they've enlisted some highly-capable dragonslayers with no ulterior motives! Fantastic.

Next time: The road back to Barley, and the tying up of a few loose ends in town. Saelhen needs to get her kimono back!

[traditional-with-a-twist]

xxx. Beauty and Her Beast

@bubblesthemonsterartist XD yes, exactly!! poor Izana, you know he had it all planned out and then Zen brings this chaotic energy in here to complicate things... I’m so glad, people enjoyed that last chapter much more than I expected ^_^

@the-pompous-potato awww, thank you!! <3<3 it makes me so happy that you enjoy the metaphors; it really struck me re-watching the anime that Izana thinks in abstract, even poetical terms - very challenging but also rewarding to write!

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“How pretty!”

Shirayuki bends over the shop’s counter, gazing at the rows of teacups. They are small enough to fit in the palm of her hand, each decorated with a delicate pattern of leaves, blossoms, stars, or shapes. 

She hovers over them, one hand floating at shoulder height as she hesitates to choose among them.

“Do you think they would like this, Obi?” she asks, succumbing to the temptation to suspend the moment of decision by stopping to consult with her companion.

She casts him a look of mingled hope and appeal, wishing to be finished with the difficult choice, yet wanting reassurance that she hasn’t settled too soon.

...

“Hmm?” Obi turns towards her, a chain glimmering between his fingers. 

He slides his hand under her hood and admires the shape of the pendant against her hair. It curves behind her ear and drops like a kiss against her cheek. 

Obi smiles down at his bride-to-be. 

“I think it’s beautiful.”

...

She blushes.

The delicate pink color draws him like the irresistible tug of a magnet. He leans into her, eyes intent and unblinking.

“Obi!” Shirayuki mumbles, laying her palm against his chest - like restraining a whirlwind with a white flag. “We’re not… the people… We haven’t finished shopping!” 

“Ah, shopping.” He drops back, retiring with the lazy smile of a cat who knows he has only to wait a little longer for his cream. “Yes, of course.” 

Returning the chain to its hook, he selects a woven choker instead and drapes it across the fine angles of her collarbone.

“How about this one?”

...

She laughs up at him, a little giddy with the same relief that sings in his blood. 

It is seven days since Lord Haruka’s announcement. The threat of the first prince’s proposal has vanished like a phantom at noontime. 

She and Obi have begun their wedding preparations in earnest. Now that he is the acknowledged heir of Clarines’s foremost nobleman, who could object?

In the end, after everything, they are still together.

...

Her eyes crinkle as she shakes her head. “You’re no help at all…”

It is a Clarines tradition to give gifts to guests at a wedding: something small, something memorable. 

“I want to find a gift that would make anyone happy,” Shirayuki murmurs, her gaze distant and soft with this picture of the future. But--”

She stills as a thought seizes her. “What about…”

...

Obi loops his hands behind his head, deliberately pacing himself to a long, languid stroll as he follows her around the shop. Any faster and his stride would outstrip hers - but he doesn’t want to let her out of his sight; he wants to follow behind where he can watch her every move and drink in her every look.

She presents an intriguing picture just now: flitting from a shelf of engraved pens to a box of monocles. At last she wheels around and brandishes a lace-edged handkerchief at him.

“Would a lord like something like this?” she asks, her eyes huge with sincerity and concern.

...

“Eh?” Obi recoils in confusion. “A lord? I wouldn’t know anything about that, mi--Shirayuki.”

When she droops, he bites the inside of his cheek, frustrated with himself for failing to please her. Casting about for an alternative track, he settles on his usual method of questioning her.

 “What makes you think a lord would come to our wedding?” Obi tries, hoping he might winkle out a problem more easily solved by his limited resources. 

“Oh…” She fiddles with the cloth. “Just… he is… Lord Haruka might… want to see his son married... don’t you think?”

...

A studied flatness drops across Obi’s face like a curtain. 

“You mean that stuffy old man.” He grimaces. “Who knows.”

Shirayuki regards him solemnly, her mood turning to that instinctive gravity with which she met the pain of any fellow creature. 

Her lips part, but she hesitates. 

Obi’s fingers creep up to reclaim their familiar grip on his left shoulder.

...

Shirayuki replaces the handkerchief and continues her circuit of the shop, quietly inspecting the merchandise and its prices. 

Obi idles in her wake. Because he can’t help noticing everything she does, even when he is preoccupied, he marks the tiny glances she steals in his direction. 

Whenever he tries to meet her gaze, her eyes dart away. It’s like opening the door repeatedly to a gentle tap, only to find the threshold empty.

...

At last, he corners her by the umbrella stand. “What is it, Shirayuki?” he demands, shamelessly exploiting his height advantage to block off her escape. “You have something you want to ask.”

She wavers, caught between retreating into herself and yielding to him. 

Her feet make the decision for her, carrying her to his side without her conscious choice, as the reassurance of his solid, warm presence draws her in. 

Tucked under his arm, peeking out from lowered lashes, she ventures: “Did it surprise you… the announcement?”

...

“You mean, all that about…” 

He had thought he had the upper hand, but the shape of her against his side is pure distraction. Absorbed by her nearness, his thoughts struggle to coalesce into an intelligible reply. 

He shrugs, trying to focus on her question. 

“What can I say… Sometimes you know something without needing someone to tell you.”

...

Unwelcome memories rise, like vapor on a cold morning. 

The old man had sent for him once, disastrously, when Obi was still small. 

Several weeks of stringent regime had failed to produce the result sought by the elder, while the younger rapidly calculated that the impositions on his freedom had come to outweigh the advantages of reliable food and board. 

Their paths had rarely crossed again until…

...

Obi stares at the woman cradled in his arms, stricken with the realization that he might never have laid eyes on her if not for that shameful assignment that now felt like another lifetime ago. 

His willful violence against her innocent effort at starting a new life had lingered between them like a thorny briar at the beginning of his service with Zen.

It had also contained the seeds of their life together.

...

Confronting uncomfortable thoughts, Obi resorted to another of his favorite tactics: drowning them out with the sound of his own voice. 

“Why bother about all that? My mother was a foreigner, a wanderer…” He tries to smile, to coax an answering smile from her, but the expression sits oddly on his face.

He has fuzzy memories of her: dancing around the firelight, shining black hair, huddling together in the cold, laughing often...and missing her.

Shirayuki watches him, solemn again.

“She left him,” Obi forces himself to say, “so I don’t know why he would tell everyone now.”

...

“Maybe…” Shirayuki speaks as gently as she would handle a bruised flower. 

She long ago made her own peace with an absent father. The wish that someone might fill the space left by Mukaze’s absence has receded to a quiet, passing thought.

For herself, it seems enough that she stopped by the stationary store earlier today and picked out a nicely patterned card for sending her father news of the wedding. 

That doesn’t mean that she can’t imagine something happier for Obi, can’t hope that he might find a way to fill in the corresponding space in his own life - a shape whose outlines she is just beginning to understand.

...

“Maybe he’s lonely,” she suggests. “There isn’t any other...family, is there?”

Obi chuckles, as if it’s a joke. 

“Who cares! Let the old man do as he pleases…” He drew Shirayuki around to face him, spanning her waist between his hands.

“Now, thanks to him…” Obi’s voice drops to purr, “we can do as we please.”

[radioactivereactions]

How it is to kiss the FO4 Companions??? Like the thing you wrote for how it is to hug them! I love that ask sm ;;;;;

There will be 2 categories on the majority of them (platonic and romanced), both because I love them all and to make up for the lack of content :^)

Cait

Platonic; Cait isn't a huge fan of kissing unless it's a bridge into much steamier situations, especially with people she isn't romantically interested in. In fact she has a bit of a distaste in them all around, rolling her eyes whenever she sees a couple kiss or make out around the wasteland and punching any snarky asshole who dares to ask for one. That form of intimacy just makes her feel queezy.

Romanced; Kisses still aren't Caits strong suit even when in a relationship with Sole, finding them awkward to initiate and even more awkward to receive since she's not used to them in a traditional sense. She does attempt to incorporate them into her relationship, as long as Sole doesn't make a big deal about it. The only time she feels as if kissing is needed, if not required, is during sex. Though she does try to use them more, mostly to get out of verbally expressing her admiration for them.

Favourite spot to kiss; collarbone

Codsworth

Platonic; His lack of a mouth is the downfall of when he wishes to reassure Sole with a peck, resorting to gently tapping one of his eyes against their cheek while making the sound of a kiss. Sole more often than not returns the gesture with a small peck on the mainframe of his body, which fills his little body with a warm sensation which he finds completely unmatched.

Curie

Platonic; Much like hugging, kissing becomes a big part in Curie showing her affections for those she meets. It takes a few moments for her to finally understand the concept that if done in the wrong way, kisses can be seen as highly inappropriate and should be left for those she knows personally or others with similar tendencies. But not many people complain about her affections because it's impossible to get mad at her for long.

Romanced; when reassured she's allowed to kiss Sole whenever and wherever after they begin their relationship, she exploits it, while maintaining a professional-ish standpoint to avoid embarrassing them too much. But who could hold back from showing their lover just how much you love them?! Definitely not Curie. Her kisses are short and sweet, just like her and often taste like sweets, which she has a mild addiction to.

Favourite spot to kiss; cheek

Danse

Platonic; He used to believe kisses to be an activity done strictly between a romantically intimate couple, and is therefore taken aback immensely when he's gifted a kiss on the cheek from Sole as a token of thanks after he assisted them with building up a small hut in sanctuary. He reminisces on it much longer than he'd care to admit, but grows fond of the expression. The only place he's only give Sole a kiss though would be the top of their head, mainly as a reassurance that they did good.

Romanced; Still few and far between. He's a professional and puts a lot of importance in his outward appearance as someone who should be respected, but still be able to be interacted with in a kind and big brotherly manner. This means kisses are reserves for secluded areas only, which he only deems to be their house in sanctuary. But when receiving a kiss from Danse, you have no reason to complain about the gap between, because the man makes sure to make each one count. His lips are surprisingly soft and warm, making Sole melt immediately while their breath is SNATCHED.

Favourite spot to kiss; forehead

Deacon

Platonic; He's never much of a kisser, much more of a hugger. Though he will acquiesce to keep in character whenever on missions for the railroad. Aside from that, he simply finds kissing to be something done mostly for romantic purposes. Though he does joke around with kissing Carrington whenever he (begrudgingly) helps him.

Romanced; As opposed to his platonic nature, the man loves giving and receiving kisses, taking every chance he can to surprise Sole with a peck or two throughout the day. While keeping his mischievous nature by aiming a lot of them on Soles neck and jaw, disappearing as quick as he appeared once he achieved in making them all hot and bothered.

Favourite spot to kiss; neck/jaw

Dogmeat

Loved (because we all love dogmeat and dogmeat loves all); German shepherds aren't the slobber-ist breed of dogs, but don't underestimate dogmeats affection or you will be in a very messy surprise. Kisses can be expected every time you hug him, as well as being his method of waking you up. He also loves receiving kisses just as much! Turning into a giant wiggly worm of excitement whenever Sole even makes the sound of kisses, which never fails to grab his attention.

Favourite spot to kiss; all over the face

Hancock

Platonic; John is a very affectionate person and has no qualms in showing it. Though hugs are his go-toos for any new comers. Once he gains a personal connection, kisses are almost always garaunteed. Most of them land on the cheek and forehead, and often leave the area he kisses warm to the touch. It's also just super convenient for him to kiss because there's no problem with a nose getting in the way.

Romanced; if dating the John Hancock, one must simply be ready for a lot of affection, regardless of the setting. And his biggest show of affection that's deemed suitable for public areas, is of course, kissing, which Sole soon finds out. His lips are textured, as is his tongue, which only works in his favour to make Sole a hot mess by the end of it. Kisses with him also have a small taste of whatever chem or drink he had just had, giving Sole mild effects each time.

Couldn't figure out how to input this in but he'd totally take a huff of jet and blow it into Soles mouth while they kissed.

If Sole was into that.

But who wouldn't be tbh.

Favourite spot to kiss; lips

MacCready

Platonic; Mac is a big kisser! Mostly on the forehead, to signify his approval or a non verbal way of saying "good job" to sole. The only time he'd refrain from it is whenever hes in the presence of a tough looking character, not wanting to come off as someone who should be taken lightly.

Romanced; Once again, he's a softie for kisses. Give him one and he will without fail return the favour. Still being a child t heart and unable to contain his pure joy, he often has spurts of complete admiration and puts a ton of small smooches all over Soles face, especially if they had to leave for a period of time. He's a bit of an amateur to the whole deep make out sessions and is pretty messy when tongues and teeth get involved, but he tries his best!

Favourite spot to kiss; between the eyebrows

Nick

Platonic; He's rather cautious of letting anything get near his face, the missing metal casing on the side of his head being a concern and the risk of accidentally cutting someone causing him to be cautious around any physical contact. To circumvent this whenever he wishes to grant Sole with his approval, he puts a gentle kiss on the top of their head, if they were comfortable with it.

Romanced; ever so the gentleman Nick Valentine is, he asks Soles permission to kiss them whenever he wishes, their answer always being in his favour. His lips are cold to the touch, sending shivers down Soles spine each time. More often than not his hand would cup the side of Soles face to anchor them in, wanting the moment to last as long as it possibility could.

Favourite spot to kiss; back of the hand

Piper

Platonic; As a big sister she loves annoying Nat with big smooches, but aside from her she never physically kisses other people. She does have a huge habit of blowing kisses, usually out of spite to disapproving townspeople and the Mayor. It's also one of her only methods of successfully flirting. But aside from that, she never turns to any shows of affection to get information, and before Sole, she had no interest in dating.

Romanced; Pipers kisses leave an impact, her lipstick marking Sole regardless of how quick she makes them out of hesitation. She gains confidence quickly with her kissing though, her firey passion showing by the way she pulls them by the collar to catch them in a kiss, this confidence only appearing if someone else shows interest in Sole.

Y'all can't change my mind that she is a jealous baby who will go above and beyond to show that Sole is hers >:^(

Favourite spot to kiss; lips

Preston

Platonic; Though raised in a household where there was no shame in giving platonic affection by the means of group hugs and the occasional peck on the cheek (mostly by his mother), Preston has a great respect for people's personal space, so unless initiated by someone else he refrains from hugging or kissing someone regardless of the situation. He refuses mouth to mouth kisses however, uncomfortable with he thought of doing an act such as that with someone he's not romantically interested in. His go-to is the cheek, the forehead for younger individuals.

Romanced; His kisses always taste like coffee, since the man practically lives off of it, making each kiss pack a small punch. He reserves heavier sessions and the more passionate kisses to the solitude of their own quarters, resorting to small kisses in various places on Soles face to 'boost morale' as he calls it.

Favourite spot to kiss; nose (He finds their little nose scrunches adorable)

X6-88

Platonic; absolutely not. While he has little to no comment on if someone were to greet him with a kiss on the cheek, one should not expect anything of he sort to be initiated by him. The only exception is when it is customary, in which he as required to place a kiss on the back of someone's hand, but he has no motivation or reason to do any other form of physical affection.

Romanced;

He grows a fondness to kisses when he begins them with Sole. Though at first unsure on the purpose, mentioning the health risks. But when Sole begins gifting him small pecks, specifically on the mouth, he feels this... fascinating warmth run through his body, quite intoxicating. He quickly begins to return them, seeing Soles reaction bringing a similar warmth.

Favourite spot to kiss; temple

[anexplanationofunfortunateevents]

BUT HIS [SON’S] [IRRELEVANT AND PROBABLY FAKE] EMAILS!

In a world where people were trying to do their jobs, this story would not make sense to anyone, now or ever. But because we live in the dumbest fucking timeline, you need to know the shape of the Trump cartel’s latest disinformation campaign against the American democratic process.

Former Vice President Biden is being attacked through his family, which means that his family’s story is the vital context here. Back in the ‘70s, when he was Senator-Elect Biden, his family was in a terrible car crash. His first wife and their young daughter were killed. His sons Beau and Hunter survived, though Hunter suffered a traumatic head injury. The boys went about 80% Parent Trap to convince their dad to marry his current wife Jill, and both grew up and went to law school. Beau became the attorney general of Delaware before dying of cancer in 2015. Hunter went on to a lucrative career in the private sector despite an intermittent struggle with substance abuse, which is a common aftereffect of psychological trauma and brain injuries.

Republicans generally believe that being a Yale Law grad with a wealthy father and a history of substance abuse qualifies someone for the Supreme Court, but for some deeply principled and intellectually honest reason, they have decided that Hunter Biden’s employment in the field of transportation and energy can only be a sign of spectacular corruption. So nefarious and sinister was the Biden family’s treachery that they managed to destroy every iota of evidence before multiple investigations by Senate Republicans could find any of it!

Obviously this little tabloid narrative was derailed when Trump went and got his dumb ass impeached over it. But it’s the middle of October, Trump’s down ten points in the polls, and he made the mistake of replacing the wildly unethical FBI director who threw the last election for him with a guy who at least knows to act professional, so he’s looking for a Hail Mary pass. In the wackiest of coincidences, some random Trumper had what he says might be Hunter Biden’s various hard drives, one of which apparently contained a backup of his most sensitive videos and text messages, in his computer repair shop. Of course this man did the only sensible thing and, uh, copied every file in the drives one at a time before bringing it to Trump’s TV lawyer, Rudy Giuliani, and then the FBI. Giuliani, who was a former federal prosecutor before becoming the former mayor of New York City and current new bestie of Random Tech Store Guy, handled this situation with the assistance of someone who has a mere “50/50 chance” of being a Russian agent. (Poor old Rudy does appear to have limited communication skills beyond his personal safe space of a noun, a verb, and 9/11.) It’s unclear to me whether Giuliani or Tech Store Guy was the one who shared the hard drives with Steve Bannon, the white supremacist propagandist and former Trump campaign manager who is currently under indictment for fraud.

As with a lot of Trump trash, it’s impossible to describe without sounding like you’re exaggerating for comedic effect, but the stakes are too high for any of it to be funny. 

Over the weekend, a right wing tabloid published what it said were emails from one of Hunter’s laptops. (Reporters at that particular tabloid do not believe the story.) The emails don’t show any wrongdoing by the vice president and seem fake for a lot of reasons – but never mind, the bullshit laundering worked well enough to get some supposed actual reporter to harass Vice President Biden about it, and then a bunch of other supposed actual reporters to collapse into their fainting couches when Biden responded with appropriate impatience.

That apparently didn’t have the hoped-for effect. The next day, what appeared to be a series of highly emotional text exchanges between the vice president and his son appeared. There was nothing even vaguely scandalous in these, to a point where it’s not immediately obvious why anyone would bother publishing them. My best guess is that it’s meant to throw Biden off his stride by trying to hurt and humiliate his son, though it may also be an attempt to soften the ground for an even more theatrical reveal.

A lot of Very Serious Politics-Knowers have deluded themselves that the But Her Emails debacle of 2016 was the legitimate kernel of a story that was “blown out of proportion.” But Her Emails was about people a) having some degree of misogyny, conscious or unconscious, which led to a bias against Clinton and b) wanting to tell other people and/or themselves that it wasn’t because she was a woman. They understand that the But Her Emails-ing was a) enormously consequential and b) incredibly dumb. They don’t want to think too hard about that tension, because if they did, they’d have to take responsibility for how the dumb thing became so consequential.

Meanwhile, Trump campaign insiders know better than the rest of us how much they cheated in 2016, but they’re still people and therefore susceptible to the cognitive bias that they got what they wanted because they earned it somehow. The closest thing they had to an above-board strategy was yelling “emails!!” a lot, so they expect yelling “emails!!” to be successful again. They’re just desperately throwing pasta to see what sticks – but Joe Biden is a man, so they’re throwing it at the theory of relativity instead of the refrigerator door.

There are differences between 2020 and 2016 which are significantly less depressing. Trump’s co-conspirators are resorting to ridiculous methods because so many of the key players who made the 2016 operation work are actually facing punishment for some of their crimes. Paul Manafort is under house arrest. Wikileaks guy Julian Assange is in jail.  Social media companies, especially Twitter, were prepared to slam the brakes. Some mainstream reporters have refused to learn their lesson from 2016, but others were prepared to be critical. And, I cannot emphasize this last one enough, voters are more prepared for it. So Team Trump isn’t as good at doing the crimes as they were four years ago, even if they were as good at it they wouldn’t be able to use traditional and social media as effectively as they did last time, and even if they could adjust to that they’d have a harder time manipulating us. Maybe it got frustrating and boring for you to hear and talk about the 2016 attack for years on end, but the whole point of that was that we needed to be ready for exactly this scenario. So far, it seems to be working better than I would have hoped.

Obviously, this is infuriating. All else aside, putting this enormous, invasive pressure on a private citizen’s mental health and substance abuse problems is abusive and gross and genuinely dangerous. I don’t give a shit who his dad is, it’s fucking evil. We need to be ready to remember everybody involved in pushing this story – not just the con artists behind it, but the “mainstream” reporters who validated it in their behavior toward the Biden campaign or who spread what were (allegedly) entirely personal text messages of no news value.

But first, we need to win next month. On that front, I want to reiterate what I said when they first started cooking up this story late last year: it’s actually encouraging that they’re resorting to something like this, because it means they’re flailing. They haven’t been able to make FBI Director Wray abuse his power in the way former Director Comey did, despite the fact that the only real tool they had to manipulate Comey four years ago was taunting and pressure from conservative media. They don’t have a cutout like Wikileaks to launder the documents for them. Most importantly, they’re trying to influence voters’ opinions of Biden because they think voters’ behavior still matters. The only thing Trump knows in life is how to get away with a scam. If they thought they had it “rigged” they would be trying to act normal, because spending the three weeks before a heist reminding your marks of what fucking criminals you are doesn’t help you get away with it.

One last thing: this is a less obvious reason why it’s important to vote as early as you can. All these other increasingly desperate stunts depend on the ability to overwhelm everyone all at once, without enough time for them to be debunked or brought back into proportion. The more early votes are in the bank, the less effective their next stink bomb can be, and if it can’t be effective, there are a lot of people around Trump who would rather save their own asses from prison than help him throw it.

[depongkor]

Best Things You Should Know Before Travelling USA

Need a simple and bother free excursion to America? To help you on your way, we've accumulated a portion of our top tips for hitting the States, with the goal that you can zero in on making the most of your excursion.

The United States of America is one of the most famous travel objections on the planet, even among Americans; most of the US populace doesn't claim a visa, and LAX Airport (California), JFK Airport (New York), and MCO Airport (Florida) much of the time head the rundown of the most mainstream air terminals for homegrown travel. In any case, regardless of whether you're a worldwide or homegrown explorer, there are a couple of decides Stateside that stump even the savviest of voyagers. Get up to date before you travel with our top tips.

Before you fly

1. Ensure your identification is legitimate

Most voyagers making a beeline for the USA will be needed to have at any rate a half year's legitimacy on their visa. Be that as it may, residents from specific nations just need an identification substantial for the length of their remain. Check the administration site for your nation of living arrangement to perceive what rules concern you.

2. Know your visa circumstance

It's significant for voyagers to the US to comprehend the necessities for entering the nation. The Visa Waiver Program (VWP) permits nationals from specific nations to enter the US for the travel industry or guest purposes for as long as 90 days without a visa. In the event that you can enter the nation under the VWP, at that point you should apply for authorisation before going through the Electronic System for Travel Authorization (ESTA).

Necessities to go under the VWP incorporate having an e-identification, being a resident of a part nation, having the ESTA authorisation, visiting for business, delight or travel purposes, and remaining in the US for close to 90 days. You probably acquired endorsement to go in any event 72 hours before your flight (you won't have the option to load onto your flight in any case), and from that point forward, your ESTA is legitimate for a very long time.

To get some answers concerning part nations and for a full rundown of the ESTA necessities, see the US Customs and Border Protection ESTA site. ESTAs cost US$14 per application, which can be made and paid for on the web. It's significant that you should utilize a Mastercard to pay. In the event that you don't fit the bill for the VWP – for reasons, for example, your outing being longer than 90 days, considering, being a resident of a non-part nation, for instance – at that point you will be needed to apply for a visa to visit the US.

3. Purchase a TSA-endorsed lock

It's an extraordinary thought to bolt your baggage while voyaging – what better approach to have genuine feelings of serenity that your assets are protected once you wave them off at check in? However, when voyaging Stateside, the Transportation Security Administration (TSA) upholds exacting things rules for wellbeing and security. All handled sacks are screened, and if the TSA auditors regard that a pack should be genuinely examined, they are allowed to tear a lock and open a pack. A note will be set inside your baggage to tell you this is the thing that has occurred. To abstain from losing a lock, it's ideal to utilize a TSA-affirmed one. These can be opened with an ace key, which means the TSA official doesn't have to break yours.

4. Know the guidelines about travel

On the off chance that you have a worldwide flight that travels through the US (especially normal with trips to Canada or South America), you should clear US Customs; actually, there's no 'travel' in America, as everything travelers are needed to land and continue through movement and customs. Keep in mind, this implies satisfying the visa necessities for the States, regardless of whether you're just remaining for a few hours in the middle of worldwide flights and your baggage is checked through to your last objective.

Regardless of whether you're interfacing with a homegrown US flight, it's imperative to recollect that your first port of section will be the place you clear traditions and migration. In light of that, you ought to permit in any event a few hours in delay between flights (regardless of whether traveling globally or locally) to consider migration, customs and reverifying of gear. Attempt to book trips with one carrier to ensure they're mindful you're traveling.

5. Book your air terminal exchange

Regardless of whether you're a homegrown or global voyager to the US, an exchange is an incredible method to get from the air terminal to your objective. While showing up in the US, it doesn't take long to see this is a vehicle dependent nation; 95 percent of American families own a vehicle. Public vehicle framework is regularly restricted, and the streets can be occupied, hard to explore, and genuinely overwhelming to a guest, implying that the simplest method to get to where you should be the point at which you land in the US is via air terminal exchange. Let us help you with that part – analyze and book your exchanges here.

6. Mood killer your versatile information

In case you're a global guest, don't commit the regular error of utilizing your cell phone information while in the US, except if you have a portable arrangement that takes into account it; similarly as with making a trip to any worldwide objective, cell phone meandering rates are eye-watering. Capitalize on free WiFi at every possible opportunity (check our US air terminal pages to check whether free WiFi is accessible in the air terminals you're making a trip to or from), or check your cell phone intend to check whether you can buy a heap of information for global travel.

7. Comprehend tipping behavior

Tipping is a famous minefield for explorers to the US, the old 'do I, don't I, is it previously included?' adventure. Albeit actually optional, it's an unwritten standard that 15-20% is normal in cafés. The explanation? The lowest pay permitted by law is low in the States, so tips are a significant piece of pay for some laborers. Tips are additionally normal in other assistance and friendliness ventures as well, for example, for barkeeps ($1-2 for every beverage), maids ($1-5 every night), attendant (subject to the trouble of your solicitation), valets ($1-5 each time the valet brings your vehicle), lodging watchmen ($1-2 for each pack), concierges (a couple of dollars if s/he causes you get a taxi) and cabbies (10-15%), so it's beneficial loading up on dollar greenbacks to have them convenient for tips. When in an eatery, do twofold check your bill before tipping however, as certain eateries consequently incorporate a tip. In case you're paying with a Mastercard, you'll have to compose the tip sum you're leaving on the Visa receipt and add it to the aggregate.

Tipping goes for your exchange or transport driver, as well. Tipping 10-15% is pretty norm for a private exchange, except if an assistance charge is now included, while shared transport drivers will expect between $2-3 for every individual.

8. Be set up to pay more than you might suspect

What you see isn't really what you get with regards to costs Stateside; most costs are recorded barring charge, so the sticker prices you see wo exclude deals charge. Hope to go to the work and be requested more cash than you were hoping to pay. Various urban communities and states have distinctive assessment rates, so costs depend where you're visiting. Accepting a 10 percent expansion would be a safe (if excessively careful) wager, and is anything but difficult to ascertain. In case you're remaining in a retreat, it pays to know that you'll for the most part be charged some type of resort expense to cover pools, tennis courts, web and other 'additional items', which are added expenses to the publicized rate.

Read More:  Free Things to Do at The Grand Canyon National Park Tour | USA

Fast tips:

911 is the crisis number in the US.

Ensure you have wellbeing and travel protection before your visit – medical care costs are probably the most noteworthy on the planet here.

The US is one of just a couple of nations to at present utilize the Imperial framework. Along these lines, consider tallness in feet, separation in miles, temperature in Fahrenheit, and weight in pounds.

Mastercards and bank cards are generally the favored method of installment. Ring your bank before voyaging – even locally – so they're informed you'll be utilizing your bank card.

The US traverses six time regions; ensure you realize which time region your objective is in for your flights and air terminal exchanges.

Hot tip: benefit as much as possible from the unimaginable National and State Parks in the US, they're the absolute best on the planet.

Regardless of whether you're a homegrown or worldwide explorer, make your excursion to the States simple and bother free by booking your air terminal exchange before you fly – that is one less thing to consider before your outing. Book on Jayride.com today.

[rivercruises52-blog]

Lavish River Voyages - An Alternative to Convention

When a lot of people consider a luxury cruise, they visualize a hugh vessel out on the ocean, sailing from exotic warm interface to another. There's an alternative kind of cruising, though, that delivers rather an alternative cruise knowledge while however pampering individuals with luxury and exemplary service. It is called river cruising and it's an incredible method to cruise.

An alternative to conventional cruising If you are a first time cruiser or have observed several, there is much to like about river cruising. As a substitute to the traditional cruise, it provides a different see of the nations and towns visited on the vessel with a more romantic and everyday atmosphere. Once we look at the places where these river cruises are most widely used, Europe, Asia and South America, one may decide to get a little more time to absorb the sites, lifestyle, locals and the history. The ship`s activity on the water is quite different on a river in comparison to an sea cruise, and is much less likely to bother someone who may be vulnerable to motion sickness. thames river cruise dinner

Smaller vessels River cruise vessels are always smaller than water cruise vessels, as they have to navigate the sometimes shallow and challenging waters of an inland waterway. River cruising shouldn't be confused with barging - wherever guests move on a barg in man-made canals - because with a powered cruise ship you can explore a nation via natural streams and waterways. Most river cruise vessels typically support between 100 and 200 people, while, some are also smaller.

Relaxed, variable, personal River cruising is a lot more relaxed than traditional cruising. Dinners are informal and comfortable, and generally, do not even require wearing a dress jacket or match coat. Sitting is generally start as opposed to assigned, providing you a way to eat with different people every night, and there's only 1 sitting rather than two. People can consume what they need , when they need, and in the business of whom they want - the ultimate in flexibility.

Slower velocity, more enjoyable A river cruise vessel travels at a much slower speed than a old-fashioned cruise ship, allowing passengers to higher appreciateand enjoy the moving countryside. The slower cruising pace allows the ship`s atmosphere to have a slower pace and a more stimulating setting, something that many river cruisers particularly enjoy. The occasionally frenetic pace of task on an ocean liner just does not exist on a river cruise, which makes it an exceedingly calming solution to vacation.

Personal see of the country River cruising allows you to truly have a special and intimate see of the countries you visit. A river cruise goes effectively not in the cities that are common ending items and allows you to discover the countryside that shows the actual culture and nature of a country. River voyages frequently contain prevents in smaller villages in towns, where you could mingle with the natives and like a distinctive social experience.

Luxurious and extraordinary company A slower velocity and a more relaxed environment doesn't show that river cruising lacks in luxurious and service. On the contrary, just because a river cruise ship carries fewer passengers, the staff can offer excessively personal service, catering to your every require or want. And because river cruise ships generally do not need a hugh variety of bars, entertainment facilities and other nightlife venues, they are generally calmer and more subdued than water liners. You still have use of activity and recreational actions, not as much as on a bigger ship.

River cruising season In hot temperature areas, river cruising may happen year-round, but many cruise lines however curtail their sailings from Nov to March. In northern areas the rivers freeze over the winter, necessitating a smaller season that always runs from April or May through July or Nov, depending on river conditions. Because river cruise ships maintain fewer and don't work as often as water ships, hotels tend to fill up somewhat quickly. Your absolute best bet is always to book your luxury cruise on a river at the earliest day possible to make certain your put on the ship.

Journey has been Bruce's enthusiasm for many years with voyages and cruise ships being his delight. He has experienced and loved well over two dozen cruises to many elements of the planet on virtually all cruise lines amid several prevents at lovely land resorts. His purpose now's to carry on to, obviously, cruise and journey, and to simply help others in the act of choosing itineraries, and experiencing their voyages and trips to the fullest. Most of us know living is meant to be happy and joyful and disruptions and problems will surely deter from your own holiday.

For more travel information visit https://wikitravel.org/en/London

[rannadylin]

Fluff, Network, Offspring for Vi; Alignment, Grudge and Question for Anselm; Law, Pistol, Upcoming for Audie; Jaded, Law and Question for Glynis; Alignment, Fluff, Kin, Question and Touch for Ianthe

A-Z Headcanon Asks

Violet:

Fluff :: What hits their soft spot? Doesanything them into emotional goo?Edér’s sense of humor, mostly. Vi is a Very Serious Fluff and hisability to make her laugh even when things are pretty terrible is a large partof her falling for him. Seeing him go all silly over every stray pet theycollect brightens her day, too.

Also, Eothas. It’s obviously gonna be a complicatedrelationship she has with her god after Sun in Shadow, and worse, after hewrecks Caed Nua, but the first time she gets to actually talk to him in theDeadfire just melts her. Her devotion after that point isn’t just theoreticalor practical; she’s delighted to find him, well, likeable, even in the midst of another of his crazy schemes.

Network :: Are they connected to the people?How much do they reach out to others?

She takes that aspect of priesthood very seriously, thoughshe has to push herself to reach out at times when she’s more geared toward thecontemplative, introspective side of her calling. In the Dyrwood, she welcomes secretEothasians to her secret chapel in Caed Nua and has Edér to help her find suchfolk through the Night Market. Apart from church folk, she keeps incorrespondence with some of her family – Audie especially, before the clanvisited Caed Nua, and more of them after that – and with friends from her Dyrwood adventures, especially Kana and, when he bothers to write, Aloth – but she’s not much for socialevents and that kind of networking.

Offspring :: What kind of parent would they be?Would they prefer one, or multiple?She’s got lots of experience wrangling younger siblings, but ofcourse it’s different when it’s your own. Vi’s compassion and resolve and tendencyto give every situation careful thought would all come in handy with her kidsthough; she’s a devoted and caring mother, though on the other hand that“giving things careful thought” can make her hesitate to act quickly whendiscipline is called for. And…given her clan/city traditions…I’m not sure shecould handle having just one child, if she’s going to have any at all. XDThey’re meant to have siblings, right? Lots of those?

In the Soul & Shield world state, she and Edér willprobably adopt. In other world states – Deadfire canon included – she andAnselm will have a bunch. I think that letter to Eidis mentioned at leastthree? There will probably be more after that.

[more behind a cut, so many wonderful questions! ;-D]

Anselm:

Alignment :: What would be their D&Dalignment? How might it come into play?Hmmmm…this is tougher than it seems it should be. I mean he’s got arather particular sense of honor but also does not hesitate to use his Watchauthority to bend the rules if they get in the way. And he was certainly moreselfish in his youth whereas he’s trying to be more altruistic these days, so Isuppose he’s mid-shift from something like Lawful Evil to True Neutral? Oof,that’s my best guess anyway.

Grudge :: How bad does an insult go over? Dothey hold a grudge long?He’s got a lot of confidence (or…well…retains the veneer of it atleast, possibly to cover up a self-doubt that’s been growing since Violet leftand only now being challenged) to shrug off an insult, or more likely fire asubtle comeback. Grudges…are beneath him, mostly. Vengeance is more effective. Why stew over an injury done to you when you have the power to retaliate and assert your own superiority?

Question :: How often do they feel doubt? Whattopics are they defensive about?He’s always doubting whether he’s really any better now than he was whenViolet left. (Recent developments regarding someItzli sisters’ views of him may help to quiet those doubts. 😉)And he’s a little defensive about being a cipher, always expecting people tomistrust him for it and having to prove himself.

Audie:

Law :: What do they think about abiding rules?Are they selective about it?Audie thinks people should abide the rules that she makes, basically. Those that stand in her way, on the otherhand, were ill-advised. (To be fair, the world would run pretty smoothly if she were running it. Pity she wasn’t around when the Engwithans were deifying people.)

Pistol :: Is this character skilled with aweapon? What’s their opinion of violence?Oh, very skilled with her knives, both for stabbing and throwing.Being in the Citlatl militia longer than the rest of the Itzli siblings has hardenedher to violence, as well, though not to a great extent as the city’s been atpeace for all her life and it’s just fairly routine patrols and scouting andsuch for now. She’s not necessarily looking for a fight (not physically, at least: she’s almost always challenging someone at least psychologically) but she won’t back down from one either.

Upcoming :: How much do they think of thefuture? Do they make long-term plans?Lots of contingency plans, I think. She has the most influence onthe family’s business pursuits these days, so she does a lot of networking fortrade contracts (oh, and I think I’ve settled on the family business being inthe textile industry… :-D They totally make fabric from Ginny’s alpaca yarn,too, and some of the embroidery on the finer bolts of cloth and on the garmentsmade for export is done by some Itzli siblings as well as hired employees…) and she oversees plans for production and that sort of thing. But then she also hasPlans B and C and several more degrees of what they’ll do if anything goeswrong. So it’s a long-term series of short-term plans? Sort of?

Glynis:

Jaded:: Do they buy into the “happily ever after” ideal? What’s their standard?Her life is the gods’. And…she’s a visionary. Like, literally, theHaven is the product of her visions (from the gods, she assumes, and she’s probably right). And theyhaven’t told her anything about settling down happily ever after, so that makesTicatl’s attempts at courtship kind of awkward for a while.

Law:: What do they think about abiding rules? Are they selective about it?She is a very rule-abiding missionary, convinced that only by being above-boardand doing all that they do among the heathen in the light of Eothas can theyconvince people to convert. (On some level she feels like consorting with Ticatl is breaking the rules, though asfar as I know there isn’t any such rule, but it’s more to do with her role asRectrix and her fear of dividing her attention too much if she falls in love…atsome point she was, ahem, selective enough about that self-imposed rule thatshe did in fact end up pregnant, though, so there’s that.)

Question:: How often do they feel doubt? What topics are they defensive about?She is not a philosopherlike Violet, so rather than welcoming doubt as a chance to examine the truth closer,she tends to try to outshine it and cling tighter to the tenets of Engwithanfaith, of which she’s pretty enthusiastically convinced. She’s a littledefensive about her visions of the Haven, when that first starts happening andshe’s trying to convince the other missionaries they need to build this thing.

Ianthe:

Alignment :: What would be their D&D alignment? How mightit come into play?Hmmmmm. Lawful neutral maybe, given her respect for authority evenwhen she’s not fully on board with Thaos’ methods?

Fluff :: What hits their soft spot? Does anything them intoemotional goo?Hugs from Glynis. Appreciation – Ianthina so regularly feelsoverlooked and persuades herself to just live with it, that if someone treatsher with genuine regard it’s a little overwhelming (and she’s forever grateful,once she gets over the initial suspicion depending on where said regard iscoming from).

Kin :: What’s their role among their relations? Do theyconsider others family?Hmmm well for actual blood relations, her parents died young but Idunno [yet] why, and I don’t think she had much other family – no siblings,maybe an aunt or uncle or something out there? And of course she ends upviewing Thaos as a father figure but that takes a while. I don’t know if sheeven got to the point of considering Glynis like family, though she’ll alwaysconsider her as her best friend, but their time together in training was brief,relative to the rest of Ianthe’s time in the gods’ service. (As for hersort-of-stepmother Deoiridh, in whatever version of the story gives them achance to get to know each other better, she kind of views her more asa…sister, or cousin or something, but keeps that view to herself. XD)

Question :: How often do they feel doubt? What topics arethey defensive about?Having had her doubts about the gods confirmed after theInquisition, and yet coming back to serve them anyway, she’s got a tendency nowto be even more skeptical and assume her doubts about anything are true. But tostill do what seems most practical, even if contrary to her doubts. She’s defensiveabout her role in the Inquisition, especially the lover she had who went overto Iovara’s cause, but she’s even more defensive about her inclination to mercyafter she returns to the gods’ service. It goes against all her practical nature,after all; but she’s just seen too muchruthlessness in the Inquisition to let that be her first resort anymore, evenif she feels at first like this disappoints her mentor…

Touch :: How do they handle contact? Is their personal bubblebig?She’s fairly aloof, definitely a big bubble, maybe something to dowith being an only child. Glynis was almost instantly granted an exception tothis standoffishness – look, when the first acolyte you meet in the barracks upon enteringtemple training greets you with an enthusiastic and very fluffy hug and then lookschagrined at overstepping and clearly hopes she hasn’t started off on the wrongfoot with her new roommate, sometimes you can’t help but set aside your awkwarddiscomfort and tell her it’s fine. And take a liking to this fluffy littleidealist with eyes as big as her dreams who clearly needs a more sensiblefriend to help rein in her wilder ideas. (Oh goodness, I really need to writesome early Ianthe & Glynis fic, don’t I?)