#it seems to me those would be very interesting

[madamechrissy]

Escort! Satoru- part one

Pairings- Escort Satoru Gojo x shy CEO F! reader

Warnings- eventually explicit sex, freaky but fluffy- this part- obsessed ass/whipped ass Gojo, mentions of sex, Satoru jerking off, whimpering (bc ofc) he becomes a little Yan tbh, Satoru half ass pleasing a client but he can't get you off his mind hehe, pretty woman vibes 🤭

This will be a fun set of drabbles in this style! I hope you all enjoy them lmk if you wanna get tagged in the next parts <3

Escort! Satoru who doesn't just sleep with any client, no he's picky certainly, he gets to be at this caliber, of the most notorious escort there is. Some women he'll help get off with his fingers, some he'll only let suck his cock deep in their throat, some very lucky ones he'll actually fuck, bent over crying out his name. No matter what however, they were always pleased, he has the best rating there even is on his site.

Escort! Satoru only takes jobs and clients that he feels like, he's the most popular person on this app, highly requested, he can browse who he's meeting before hand. And if he absolutely can't stand them, perhaps that - gasp - hate Digimon!? - he keeps it to just the date, a polite fake smile on his perfect features, baby blues hidden behind his dark round shades.

Escort! Satoru gets a notification, lounging around in his penthouse, yes Gojo is rich from this career, but he enjoys the thrill of this even more, and he enjoys putting a smile on a pretty girls face, giving them pleasure when they may have never had any. His dick is just too pretty not to share with the world, truly. - That may seem conceited but it's really just factual! - He peers at the notification then, blinking quickly as the picture, so gorgeous he's damn near blushing just from seeing your face, your bare shoulders in a slinky dress, fuck since when does he get half hard looking at collarbones!?

Escort! Satoru is already throbbing and hard the longer he stares at your picture, your shy and sweet little message on there with it - 'I have never done anything like this... but with work, I have no time for anything, and... I really need a handsome date to this charity ball. Could you please come with, I will gladly pay you extra to spend some time before so we can have our story together' Satoru blinks a bit, full lips pursing, beginning to type back. 'You buying lunch?' He smirks as you laugh react to his comment. 'I'm buying lunch'

Escort! Satoru doesn't date in real life, he's merely arm candy for many women, but when he sits across from you at the outdoor diner, and you smile shyly, his heart fucking stops. He's been with so many beautiful people, but nothing has made him feel whatever this is. 'Hey there!' you introduce yourself, and he can't stop staring at your lips as they move, you have a pretty red color adorning them, he tries to focus but his brain is short circuiting. 'Satoru...' he says, taking your much smaller hand in his own, staring at you behind Gucci shades. He never lets dates call him that, he prefers Gojo of course, but when you repeat 'Satoru' in that sexy voice, he's ended.

Escort! Satoru forgets what time even is, while you pour over some details of your life with him, he's never been more interested actually in how you played the flute. Tell him it all. That you like Pokemon- Digimon is better but- close enough, tell him about your collection. He can't get enough, you all spend so much time talking the sun is starting to set. 'Oh no, we should go! I'm keeping you-' Satoru lowers those shades, his bright blue eyes drinking you in, making you falter as they trail across your body ever so slowly, making you heat up, remembering his profession. 'you're not keeping me, but one question, sweets' he leans forward, so close now, brushing back a lock of your hair. 'why would you go to an escort agency, is it just for the date? or more?'

Escort! Satoru loves watching the blush dance on your skin, the glittering of your eyes when he pulls back, thumb brushing your heated cheek just so, feeling it's warmth. 'It's just for the date, I read your reviews, they're insane...' he grins now, brushing back silvery locks. 'read which reviews?' you heat up further, fiddling with your fingers just a bit. 'If it went that way, it'd be the first time in years for me' Satoru blinks in shock. 'how?' You sigh, sipping the rest of your drink down through your straw. 'work plus being a homebody nerd, well... I never meet people or have time' ah, Satoru could make you cum so hard you wouldn't be able to form words, but he takes a sip of his own drink, saying casually- 'and you never... want to?'

Escort! Satoru thinks you're so cute when your teeth catch your lower lip, and your lashes flutter. 'of course but that's not why I hired you, I really do need a perfect date, though... your looks may have swayed me' he chuckles a bit now. 'So shallow!' you scoff, as the two of you get ready to leave. 'Do you have a suit or do you need me to buy one?' Gojo smirks at you. 'I have so many suits, and tuxedos, don't worry' 'ah you come prepared I see' he hums just a bit, walking you to your car, far too close when he leans over you just a bit, inhaling the sweet scent of you. 'I'm prepared for whatever you need, sweets, anything at all' at his connotation he watches you get more flustered, giggling a bit, feeling so stupid next to a guy like this, but he just finds you the cutest thing he's ever seen.

Escort! Satoru can't take how much you're sinking into his mind the passing days, the charity ball is in a week, but the two of you constantly text for 'practice' but he becomes more and more enamored, you're smart, sweet, and oh so fucking pretty. When you send him a selfie before he goes on a date with a client, he can hardly take it, you're in your business suit, nothing sexy- but it drives him to distraction, your pretty lips he can picture around him. Satoru can hardly focus when he's supposed to be pleasing this girl, his fingers usually so sure aren't hitting her spots, because now he can only think of you.

Escort! Satoru cannot have a bad review, oh no, he decides to excuse himself from the pretty girl on her bed, going to the bathroom to stare at this picture of you. beautiful, can I see more? when you read that you nervously shut the door to your sky rise office, unbuttoning just a bit of your blouse, tummy clenching when he hearts the message, you know you shouldn't get so excited, you're paying him after all. He's likely with a woman constantly, you see the sheer amount of reviews, but you can't help yourself, you find him entirely too charming, it's easy to forget this is just for business. For every salacious review, there were others- sweet, funny, made me feel pretty- and that's what really drew you in.

Escort! Satoru after he recieves that sexy little picture, instead of going into the room with the eager girl waiting, is instead stroking his long, pretty cock, head falling back against the door, while you nervously button your blouse back up, imagination going insane. You weren't against sleeping with someone casually, but for money would it mean... he didn't want to? The thought eats at you while Satoru's dripping precum over his phone, right on that picture, whispering your name ever so softly, forgetting where he was and shit, who he was, he can practically see those nipples under your blouse, dying to know what they taste like.

Escort! Satoru may have had sex before with the client surely, he loves a beautiful woman, before he met you. But now you're constantly on his mind. Even with his cock so hard and ready, when he's back to kissing on her and playing with her, he can't do more, frustrating him to no end. He has her squirting down his hand with the way his practiced fingers know how to hit every woman's spot, she's dripping down to his wrists, even. When he finishes, she looks up at him, all fucked out, trying to kiss him, but that's Satoru's biggest rule, never, ever kiss on the lips. He turns his head. 'sorry sweetheart I don't do that'

Escort! Satoru takes his extra money, he made bank tonight, but the entire time he had his fingers curling inside a slick, eager hole, he was picturing them deep inside you, watching as you cum for him. You'd probably sound and look so pretty, wouldn't you? As you're shooting him a good night text- who even has ever sent him one? - you're back on his mind, still aching from earlier. Turning down blowjobs is not something Escort Satoru does, but he did, and now he's throbbing when he rubs himself over his boxers, whimpering just a bit, pulling the picture back out and working his hand up and down his shaft, as it's aching to fill you

Escort! Satoru has a notification from one of his regulars pop up on the phone, right above that picture he can't stop staring at, while his cock is sticky from his spit and precum, loud in his opulent bedroom, the sound of it lewd along with his heavy, husky breaths. He's picturing just what you'd look like on your knees, with those innocent eyes, maybe he'd tear that business suit off your body, and paint every pretty inch of it with his ropes of cum, until you were just covered in white. The thought alone makes him decline the request, shutting his eyes and picturing just that as his spurts of white cum pour down his hand.

Escort! Satoru whimpers when he touches his sensitive tip, murmuring your name, trying to come down. He finds himself cleaning himself up and staring at the mirror, wondering just what the fuck you've done to him already. Surely it's... something new or different, it can't be more right? He hovers over choosing the date, or messaging you good night, and finds himself texting you with a dumb little 🥺, smiling like a lovesick fool when you send this to him-'can't wait for our 'date' it'll be fun! 😍- and Satoru's getting hard again from a fucking emoji.

this is just gonna be FUN and cute- maybe four parts or so in this style, and they'll be pretty quick coming out. Drop a comment if you want a tag on our lil Escort babyy

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[nthewriter]

(Here you go!! Reader is hinted to be a minor in this so there will be no smut with the 141. They will be her protectors. Also, when I wrote it, Reader reminded me of a fawn)

The 141 were known for being ruthless mercenaries, taking on all kinds of dangerous jobs. There was the former Captain of a royal guard named Jonathan Price, his young recruit and student Kyle Garrick, nicknamed Gaz, rogue knight Simon Riley the Ghost, and John MacTavish, an assassin known as Soap for his quick aptitude on how to clean up the mess. Our four friends were reunited in front of a board with different offers for jobs, killing or rewards for capturing outlaws.

“Well… there's this one.” Kyle gestured to another scrap of paper with a face on it. “The reward seems pretty good.”

“Another sorcerer…? Seriously, Gaz?” Johnny groaned with a roll of his eyes. He still bore the scars from the latest encounter with another rogue magician.

“Fine- uh. That's strange.” The black haired man reached for a wanted poster and held it so his companions could see and read it.

“The fuck-” Ghost spoke, his metal mask not hiding the confusion from his voice.

Price didn't speak. He contemplated the paper attentively. It spoke about a runaway princess, apparently wanted for crimes against the kingdom they were residing in. The reward was certainly very interesting, but they weren’t that desperate for money. Price liked to hunt down monsters and criminals, not… runaways nobles or people who didn’t pay their debts. He shook his head.

“No. I guess we will have to move to another region, lads.” The older man spoke with a low grumble. “Get food, and then we will leave this… dump.” He added as he looked around. The town hadn’t been in great shape ever since they were attacked by raiders and by a dragon some time ago. “I heard the kingdom of Tylluy offer more contracts. Maybe we could have a deal with the commanding officer, Lady-knight Kate Laswell.”

“Someone you knew?” The Ghost asked to which Price nodded.

“Indeed. A very fine woman. Kicked so many groins and broke so many bones in her past.” Price chuckled, thinking and remembering about the times he and Laswell used to go in the battles side by side.

Mounting their horses, they rode on the dirty and muddy road. It had rained just before, in fact, the weather was strange lately. It was raining in the middle of the summer. Peasants were desperate: the crops had died, destroyed by the rain and the hail. As they rode, they watched as people seemed to move elsewhere. They noticed a family riding in a carriage led by two cows. Probably one of those peasant families leaving the land.

Price sent Johnny and the Ghost scouting ahead for a place to sleep. They will have to sleep under the stars tonight. Kyle was silent, seeming lost in deep thoughts.

“Is something wrong?” The captain asked softly, wanting to know his student's thoughts.

“I was thinking about that reward, regarding the runaway princess. Something about it felt… odd. Like it was not right.” Kyle replied, chivalrous as ever. “Why would someone post a public announcement? Usually, the royals like to use their own firm. Like that Shadow Company.”

“Your point, Garrick?”

“I think it's lawless to do this. Poor thing might be scared to death.”

When the Ghost and Johnny returned, they informed them they found a small glade where they could sleep and rest peacefully, away from prying eyes. They dismounted at the place, Kyle and Johnny gathering twigs here and there to start a fire. Then, Price and the Ghost went hunting, finding a deer. But… not only.

Simon Riley strutted back without the dead deer, requesting Kyle and Johnny's attention. Both men glanced at each other in confusion. But they obeyed. They walked behind the tall and intimidating man before finding Price a few meters away from a oak tree.

He made a silent motion, putting a finger on his lips, making sure both men stayed quiet. Johnny raised a confused eyebrow before looking down, finding a hole near the oak tree. Kyle also stepped up. And then, they saw it.

The princess from the wanted poster. But to their shock, she didn’t look like an adult, but like… a child. Someone who was in the middle of their adolescent years. She was huddling in a hare burrow, looking up at them anxiously with tears in her eyes. She was wearing a long tattered and muddy nightgown. Kyle saw some dried blood on her body as well. Was she hurt?

“What should we do, Captain?” Johnny questioned in a soft voice, not leaving the young princess from his sight.

The older man took a very deep breath. Either he escorted the girl back to the claws of death and perhaps worse, or… or he took her with them. At least, she will stay alive, cared for. They needed someone to care for the horses after all.

“Kyle. You’re good with people. Tell her she will be safe from now on.”

They watched as Gaz approached the burrow cautiously and knelt down with a soft and charming smile on his lips. The goal was to make the girl leave her hiding place, get some sleep and see what to do with her the next morning.

“Hey. It's okay. We won't hurt you. I promise.” He started with an equally soft and steady tone. The young girl immediately seemed to relax. It did help that Kyle had a pretty face too. “Come out now.” He extended his gloved hand, and the princess slowly reached for it, as he pulled her out.

Johnny immediately ripped his coat from his light armor and draped it around her frail shoulder. The girl tensed immediately next to Kyle, unconsciously leaning into him.

“There you go, lovie.” He spoke kindly, almost with pity at the sight of the poor princess. “No one is going to harm you.”

“Get her warm. We will come with dinner.” Price sternly told the pair, and watched as they led the princess to their makeshift camp.

“I know. But we can't let an innocent lamb go to the slaughter.” Price then paused and added with an amused chuckle. “You did say you needed someone to wash your blades and your armor.”

“It’s going to cause us troubles, Price.” Simon sighed, not really understanding this move. He rather liked the company of the three other men. Bringing a runaway princess was going to complicate things.

[blackened-angel]

I'm personally not looking forward to the Netflix adaptation of Devil May Cry.

With the new trailers, I wanted to share my opinions again but I will say that this post isn't recommended for those who only have praise and that any criticism is forbidden.

It's a pretty long post where I try to explain what is my main problem with the adaptation and that is the person who is directing it.

I highlighted some parts that I hope you can at least read those ones, but if I were to give you a TL;DR it would be this:

If you want to make an adaptation based on an IP that's been around for a while, even if you proclaim that you're fan, at the very least be modest and try not to cause trouble with your audience, given that you're supposed to be a professional in the industry and perhaps trying desperately to please everyone isn't such a good idea because you might be hanging with the wrong crowd and that will reflect on your image.

Sorry but I'm not interested to coddle that guy so if that brief summary is enough to make you displeased, I'm asking you not to read any further.

So, will talk about why it's difficult for me to praise Netflix Devil May Cry. It's because of the person attached to it.

I've criticized aspects of this adaptation before and while the majority will get angry because the show hasn't come out yet, thus any criticism is invalid, personally, what I have seen so far has been enough for me to have a disdain for it because one of my favorite series is being handled by someone who has never done anything with it before.

Proclaiming to be a fan doesn't automatically mean that it will be a masterpiece and for someone who is allegedly a professional in the industry, their conduct reflects on the product and others that are involved.

Also, just saying, that I refuse to use the word "anime".

Pseudo-anime perhaps but I'm sorry, DMC The Animated Series from 2007, that's the only Devil May Cry anime. I don't see any 'bishounen'/ biseinen' . Have you?

Anime, to someone like me who has been into anime and manga for two decades, is animation produced in Japan, primarily for the Japanese audience, with aesthetic that is different from Western animations.

So yeah I'm just gonna say Netflix DMC.

Ok, so, let's return to the subject, but first, I want to ask you and of course, you can provide examples because from my experience, I haven't seen anime studios acting so desperate like Shankar.

Please tell me if you have seen anime studios on their social media accounts being so friendly with people?

At most, there are some who on some occasions retweet fan creations like art or cosplay but in general they just post information regarding what they are producing, trailers or key visuals, but they don't engage much with the audience.

They are just working on the stuff they want to deliver to their audience, hoping they will enjoy it and look into feedback afterwards.

How many anime studios have you seen bragging like Shankar has been doing?

He actually said on Twitter "I never miss."

Oh and on a few occasions, this grown-ass man kept referring to himself in 3rd person, somehow thinking his fans will find it...cute? Yeah, so it was more like "Adi Shankar never misses."

It's obnoxious. You can tell me that he was joking, but he seems committed to his whole "I never miss with my projects" bit, so it's kind of hard to tell.

Oh and do you think it's also adorable when he reposted people's fanart without crediting? Even when some of them had watermarks?

Like I'm not kidding. If you follow him on Twitter, there were a few times when he was called out for not properly crediting artists and you'd think he'd stop after being told once but no.

In addition to that, one time when I was reading the comments on a reposted artwork, there were only two people that mentioned the artist while the rest of them didn't even ask things like "Hey did you draw this? Did the animation team do it?"

It seemed that even though they must have known it wasn't art made by Shankar or the ones doing the animation, they treated like it was no biggie if he was reposting.

As a professional, allegedly, he should have never done such a thing, but most of his followers seem treat him like "oh he's just enthusiastic, cut him some slack, don't be mean to him".

And we know that in general, anyone else who would do that sort of thing just once would get torn apart by others, but with that guy apparently we must be indulgent.

When caught in the act, he did apologize but like...shouldn't he know better? He most likely expects that everyone will forgive him for anything he does.

Thus, can you understand why I'm having a tough time to like something from that person? Who keeps bragging, promising the best anime ever, acting as if he invented DMC...

That's a person who is supposed to be a professional in the industry, yet he as only been acting like a redditor...And of course he promotes a lot of memes. Gee, I wonder who's the intended audience?

He's been desperately trying to please everyone.

This is why I like the way anime studios conduct their promotion for their projects. They are humble and want to avoid causing problems t and that's why they generally just post information, artwork, trailers etc..

That's something I personally appreciate.

Shankar has only been off-putting...Honestly, what the heck was Capcom thinking?

Apparently he wanted Dino Crisis, but Capcom was like, have DMC instead. It feels like they were saying "yeah do whatever with this IP, doesn't matter", as if DMC isn't popular, which was proven by the popularity poll they hosted.

I feel like this adaptation is mostly for the people that know DMC just from memes and I'm sorry for the long time fans that will most likely get insulted and told to shut up by the people who will only watch this generic Marvel/DC looking animation and be told that DMC is only good because of Shankar or think he should be in charge of other Devil may Cry projects.

So yeah, to me, above all is that narcissistic man who has been trying so hard to please everyone.

No, I don't think it's endearing when he spoke in 3rd person and claims that he never misses with his projects. I did not find it cute when he went on to say stuff like Vergil is a hero and other bullshit, because some people would believe those will actually be the characterizations in the show, only for Shankar to post something like "I'm joking, I'm just a troll" after those kinds of posts, wanting to gain sympathy from people, to see just how much of a fun guy he is and you must definitely watch his DMC "anime".

We already had the reboot that was supposed to appeal to the Western audience because Capcom thought the original series isn't appealing to westerners, but man were they wrong. Still hate it for the fact that they mocked the OG series and here we are again, another production that's mostly for the western audience.

So yeah, I'm just not a fan of how much that man has been boasting and assuring everyone how great the show will be.

Perhaps, for some of you, it will the greatest "anime" ever, he keeps telling you that! But not for me. I don't appreciate the shit I've seen him do on Twitter done and as much as he brags that failure never happens for Adi Shankar, not everyone is of the same opinion.

If it turns out that it might fail the expectations of those who only praised, what then? Will they keep praising despite being disappointed so that the series keeps getting content, even if it might be the same quality or even worse?

I think that will send the message to the bigwigs that those people are willing to consume anything.

Like I've mentioned thought out the post, I personally would have appreciated humbleness instead of someone trying so desperately to please everyone.

I'm not sorry for what I said and I know there must be others who share my opinions.

If you have made it this far, I thank you!

[utilitycaster]

Do you think fan reaction to Laura characters (most sharply seen with Imogen and Jester), is because a large portion of those problem fans see those characters as, rather than actual characters with agency and interiority, but vessels for their wish-fufillment? Especially when it comes to things like romantic relationships, power, being girly-pop/a girl-fail/girl-boss (to put it reductively), and, with Jester specifically, almost universally adored.

This would go some way to explaining why they seem to disregard Laura, Laura's intent, and any criticism of said character. Because it goes beyond "you can't criticize that character because they are my favorite" to sometimes "you can't criticize that character because they are ME."

Perhaps I am just (I suppose this is petty to say) too comfortable with my self as a person to ever wish to base my enjoyment of a story on whether, not even that I can relate to the characters, but that I can effectively use a singular character as a vehicle for my own wants and needs. Certainly, there is a place for those sorts of characters and wish-fufillment stories. Whole sub-genres of Romance are based around this. Yet, it boggles my mind when people try to apply this to works in genres that do not actually support it and then get angry when it doesn't meet their expectations. Sure, there are no rules about being a fan, do as you wish, but when this sort of behavior seems tied to some of the worst behavior exhibited in the fandom, it does beg some discussion.

(This is not a condemnation of the characters themselves, or Laura, Vex and Jester are wonderful, and while I have problems with Imogen tied to the larger structural issues of C3, as a concept and on paper, she had potential for being a great study in power and powers corruption....which I'm now realizing could have been an amazing throughline theme for C3 as a whole, if anyone had seized the reigns and drove it along that path intentionally, but, world of pudding, oh well. This is purely a criticism of a certain fandom trend.)

So here's what's interesting - the way fans saw Jester (and to a lesser extent, Vex, at least post-c1 since I was not around for C1) and the way fans saw Imogen, at least after a while, are very different in my opinion!

The Vex, Jester, and early Imogen view was very much, yes, wish fulfillment, but it was also especially tied to shipping (for multiple different potential partners, ie, this was pretty common for ships with both Beau and Caleb in C2), and yeah, much of it was projection. That does fit into, as you say, the romance novel wish fulfillment model. I remember that my shipping/multishipping philosophy throughout C2 was "whomever Jester chooses," and I was pretty vocal about that and a lot of people who have since rage quit the fandom over this ship had no issue with that for a long time. The thing is, then when she chose, suddenly to many of those people she was a stupid little girl who didn't know what she was doing and who should be miserable and punished for her transgression of not doing the romance they wanted her to do. Vex is actually kind of interesting in that I'm sure someone is out there who treats her as a shipping doll for Percy; but more frequently I saw the same Marisha and Liam stan problem, of Vex only in the context of "person Keyleth looks up to but also who should date Keyleth and be second to the Tempest, a thing which would make Vex miserable if you have even the slightest idea of her character" or only in the context of Vax's sister (the vessel of grief problem I ran into when I joined the fandom as someone who liked Vex as a character more than Vax and saw that half the content was just Vex Is So Sad Forever.)

Imogen started out this way - the oh my god she's a widdle baby girl with headaches and nightmares that the more worldly Laudna kisses better - but that quickly failed to be supported by the text, and Laudna as a character failed to fit the Keyleth or Beau model of Most Cool And Powerful and so actually, as I've observed before, a lot of the Marisha Stans of yore left because Laudna didn't support their idea. And similarly, a lot of the people who'd claimed to like Jester were gone over C2 shipping bullshit, and that vacuum was filled by the Campaign 3 fans, many of whom were overall new to the show.

Now, Imogen is unavoidably a central character of Campaign 3, with particular narrative importance compared to other PCs - it would be ridiculous to say otherwise. But here's the twist (and god i gotta finish my post about this): a lot of the C3 fans who came in to fill the vacuum that Marisha Character Stan With Laura Character As Wish Fulfillment were not the "um, actually, Beau and Keyleth are the leaders and the best characters" sort of person, even though, hilariously, Imogen is closer to that than either of them were (and I say this as someone who enjoys Beau and Keyleth very much, I just don't subscribe to the They Are Leaders Who Are Always Right mentality).

A lot of C3 fans were much more enamored of a new model of blorbo: not the coolest hottest most powerful badass (though occasionally they'll dip into that, especially when they shift into mindless bean counter mode), but rather, the most perfect spotless sacrificial lamb, who is eternally wronged and eternally gracious and when they're not gracious it's because they've had so much trauma and you can't expect them to be gracious all the time but they're always so good and you can't criticize them because they've had such a hard life, and also they belong to at least one oppressed group so if you criticize them you aren't just mean to someone who should never be criticized, you are also probably a bigot and a bad and ontologically evil person.

So Imogen is that. She's not wish fulfillment as the coolest person ever; nor is she wish fulfillment as "person banging the character they think is the coolest person ever"; she is, in their minds, wish fulfillment for "person who can never be criticized." Which is closer to what you said.

Unfortunately for them, this sort of person doesn't really exist, like, at all. I think there's cases where one should be judicial about one's criticism, but actually talking shit about fictional characters is, as a rule, morally neutral. There are things you can say about individual fictional characters that are bigoted, and there's patterns of behavior towards fictional characters that show a more subtle bias rooted in bigotry, and there's far more things you can say about fictional characters that are simply in poor taste or indicate the person doing the criticism is a fucking idiot, but you are always allowed to not like a character because of their actions and behaviors within a narrative, and vocalize or write this sentiment.

This did not sit well with many people, who thought they'd found an ironclad way to never be criticized again, probably because they are stupid as fuck because what kind of idiot thinks this is a possibility.

Now I would be remiss in saying this was unique to Laura; this was a C3 problem generally and spread to Laudna/Marisha and Ashton/Taliesin (the "she literally was traumatized? they're literally punk?????" defenses) as well, and infects discourse about Campaign 3 still because at the core of it, a lot of Bells Hells fans, in their fragility, want that wish fulfillment and are really mad that people are like "oh, you don't like that I'm criticizing you or the thing you like? sounds like a you problem" even though it literally is. While the treating Laura's character like a self-insert issue was a problem in past campaigns (and I think the fact that Vex and Jester had those more slow-burn, background arcs made them appealing targets) I don't think that particular segment of Imogen's fans want to be her; they just want the nonexistent immunity they made up for her to be true for them.

[msmargaretmurry]

hello tumblr i have finished reading s.hoot your s.hot and so this is a post about all my thoughts about it for @moregraceful and also anyone else who is interested i suppose!

first off let me say that i have nothing against l.exi b.rown, i am neutral-to-positive toward her as a person/public figure in the hockey world. like, i do think that sometimes she lets the line between space for fans/space for the hockey enterprise we are fans of get a little uncomfortably blurred, and sometimes she loses sight her own privilege a little bit, and sometimes she's a little bit cringe, but whomst among us isn't a little bit cringe? being a little bit cringe is an essential part of the human experience. but overall i think it's good to have a loud voice in a place of privilege within the hockey community who is willing to adamantly say trans rights and black lives matter and homophobia is dumb and bad, you know? i feel the need to say this because i AM going to be a little mean about this book but i have seen reactions to it here on the world wide web that feel like the people behind them are just getting off on the chance to be mean to a woman who is popular on the internet.

anyway becky just review the book.

SHORT VERSION: when i first posted that i was reading this, a very nice anon messaged to be like, i read it and while i thought it wasn't great on a craft level, i thought she delivered on the things she said she would deliver on — accuracy in the hockey parts, queer rep, and poc rep. and i agree, and i think those are worthwhile things! on a craft level the book was pretty clunky and in some specific ways Not For Me, but on a story level it was fine, and in other ways it was good actually. it was far from the worst hockey romance i have ever read and not worse than other clunkily written romance novels i've read and judged but that other people seem to love. anyone acting like it's the worst book ever written needs to take a breath. it was fine! there are some things i liked about it! the sex scenes were really bad though!

TL;DR VERSION:

so i went into this book with low expectations, largely because in the leadup to it lexi did not really make herself out to be a person who, like, particularly enjoys or respects romance as a genre. the built her audience in the hockey romance world by poking fun at other hockey romances and making fun of "sexy" hockey tropes and while i didn't necessarily disagree with her takes on those things (i felt very vindicated that she disliked my beloathed HIM, for example) i think that being a normal nobody who is critical of those things online is different from being a person with a pretty big platform who does it and then turns around and says, and now i'm going to write a book in this genre that does things RIGHT! while at the same time talking about how the books you actually enjoy reading are like, edgy literary fiction or whatever. (not derogatory; i also love edgy literary fiction)

so in addition to that setting my own expectations low i think that right off the bat it set her up for some unsympathetic responses — by selling herself as the person who could "fix" hockey romance, she possibly drew in people who wouldn't read hockey romance otherwise, or who have tried it and didn't like it, which could be a good thing if the book is like, genre-trancendingly good, but when it inevitably is not, all those people just wind up reading a mid hockey romance set against way too high expectations. also some people just REALLY like an excuse to mock women on the internet/romance as a genre.

(which isn't to say everyone has been a hater about it; it seems like her book launch events have gone great and plenty of people have genuinely enjoyed the book, so, good! i'm glad people are having fun!)

so, i am going to list the good parts and the bad parts, in my opinion.

BAD PARTS:

alternating first person present tense povs. my actual least favorite tense+pov combination in all of literature. i know some people like it but it is actively a turn-off for me.

needed an aggressive line-edit so bad. on a sentence level the prose was clunky in a lot of places. too many words. girlie needed to ctrl+f certain abverbs so badly, and then delete delete delete.

the pacing was not horrible but not great at times, especially with time jumps between chapters that were sometimes a little confusing. honestly a lot of my gripes about the craft stuff in this book are big baby's first novel problems, and romance novels are notoriously poorly edited, so.

the show/tell ratio was wayyyyy off. girl stop telling us stuff and show us instead. related gripe so it goes in this bullet point as well, you can tell when an author doesn't trust their readers to make connections or come to conclusions themselves so they feel like they have to spell out every little think they want you to think and i find that very tiring.

oh lord the sex scenes. lexi said at some point that she's uncomfortable writing them (but felt like she had to include them due to genre expectations) and you can really tell. the prose was at its clunkiest in these scenes and it seemed like she was trying to get through them as quickly as possible. imo the book would have been just fine, possibly better, without them. also girl no one forced you to write in this genre.

i said to jess and maggie early on in reading this book that it has a kind of wattpad self-insert fanfiction vibe and now having finished it i do think that on a story level it's a step up from wattpadesque, it cannot escape the self-insert fanfic vibe of a bisexual woman married to a black hockey man writing a book about a bisexual woman and a black hockey man who seem to have personalities fairly close to the real people. this may have been helped if she didn't name the characters LUCY AND JJ but who knows. this made reading it a little weird sometimes! there were points in reading where i wondered if she would have been better off from a craft/genre-appreciation level writing a straight up memoir or like, purposely thinly veiled literary autofiction, but of course those things don't have the market power of hockey romance. idk. despite this i also liked the diversity, so, big shrugs from me here.

this book is billed specifically as a ROM-COM and not a ROMANCE, which to me feels like lexi trying to distance herself a little from traditional romance, because she's not a big fan of traditional romance, which gets a huge sigh from me. also while there are some genuinely funny moments, a lot of it reads like the scenes of a movie being described, which is a pet peeve of mine. it is REALLY hard to write a funny story; i think that romcoms thrive on screen because they benefit from physical comedy, chemistry, and timing in a way that's really really difficult to capture in writing.

some people don't mind a lot of pop culture references in their contemporary fiction but unfortunately i am a person who often finds them pretty awkward and therefore the fact that many characters' personalities hinge on the pop culture references they make and the brands they use was tiring to me. relatedly, while i mostly didn't have gripes about factual accuracy in this book, at one point lucy mentions that they're been dating for a month and gotten halfway through watching naruto and i'm like girl do know know how many episodes of naruto there are. how did they have time to fuck

my one big accuracy gripe is that at a certain point lucy (an artist) starts selling her art online to make ends meet and is super successful at it, with no explanation of how this happened. selling art online is really hard! is she working social media hard to bring in customers? did she somehow tap into an existing market for her style of art? we just don't know!

GOOD PARTS:

the hockey details did indeed feel very accurate! it is worth acknowleding imo that she has a certain privilege in this area — she can literally just ask her nhler husband how things work if she doesn't already know from her years around the league — but the accuracy level in other hockey romances i've read have been so abysmally low that simply being accurate to the basics of how nhl/north american hockey works was pretty refreshing.

even though the writing was clunky, some of my favorite parts were when lucy was hanging out with her queer friends and the work that did to keep this book from feeling aggressively heterosexual in a weird patriarchal gender roles way that so many hockey romances do. and not even just het hockey romances. HIM (beloathed) was so wildly misogynistic it boggled my mind. it was nice to read a hockey romance that didn't feel like it hates women!

(please imagine every bullet point on this list beginning with, "even though the writing was clunky—")

similarly it was nice that jaylen felt like a real person with real problems and not a weird hockey man archetype of masculinity. i liked that the text acknowledged how his blackness affected his hockey experience. i enjoyed how he was written as a straight man who is genuinely cool with queer people. one of my favorite scenes was when lucy's friend clocks how much he likes her because he quietly gave a huge donation to the seattle pride fundraiser she'd dragged him to. i too would love for an attractive man to express his feelings for me by donating a ton of money to my gay friends!

both lucy and jaylen had genuinely strong character arcs that made sense for real people in their circumstances in the real world, but i especially liked jaylen's in how it was built out of real issues within the hockey world — the extreme pressure players (especially black players and high draft picks) are under to perform and put hockey before everything, the way that can fuck with your head, etc. once again just refreshing to have realistic hockey details!

not every character or relationship beat hit for me, but there were some genuinely cute and funny ones, especially later in the book. i thought one of the things lexi did a good job showing more than telling was the growing level of comfort/intimacy that lucy and jaylen had with each other, and while the third-act breakup did not come as a surprise, it did feel like a realistic problem for them to run into, as opposed to a contrived miscommunication like so many romance novels seem to like to have.

overall i'm like, yeah, it was fine! it wasn't awful, it wasn't great, i wish the writing had been better and there were parts i thought were especially poorly written but also parts i genuinely liked or appreciated! mainly my feelings here are that people are going to keep writing mid to bad hockey romances and i would rather those books have people of color in them, and queer people in them, and know how hockey works, and have a genuine love for the game and the community around it than not have those things, so i'm not mad at this book for existing even if i have some issues with it. obviously lexi has a big, built-in platform and access to the nhl that other authors don't have and hopefully she'll use that for good to inspire and support more diversity in hockey romance!

[nameification]

a collection of potential symbols and references that could be used for anaxa

what hours of research does to a person...this list is mainly laying out some of the potential symbols and references ive both noticed and would like to see connected to anaxa. a lot of these are based in either alchemy or his design. a lot of these are also kind of based on vibes but hey! what works works

Kabbalah, the Tree of Life

okay this is an Intense one to start with but it's the one taking space in my brain the most because. okay kabbalah is heavily associated with alchemy and the likes and anaxa has So Many references to how Kabbalah is visualized on his design

like. you look at this and yeah sure maybe it's just a general reference to alchemy but some of the circles have. text ? on them? and the fact kabbalah is called the tree of life and i guarantee you trees will be important to anaxa trust me on this

the grove also seems to be architecturally use the same shapes im just gonna note that

1b. this specific planetary style arrangement

okay yes it does bear resemblance to how kabbalah is arranged but it's different enough for me so thats why im separating the two but i want to point out how this is a graphic not seen often within the game and the only other times we see anything similar are with fu xuan's kit OR in the vortex of genesis (and fu xuan has ties to erudition)

the planetary array style of the hsr map resembles the pattern on the cracked glass behind anaxa. it also bears resemblance to some other hoyo games

in this video ashikai shows the symbols for a skill badge from hg2 and the alchemy table in genshin. alchemy table. specifically look at the vortex of genesis map actually. the similarities are so close it's driving me insane

even without the similarities to other games the fact fu xuan's kit is one of the only other places i can think of where this kind of symbolism is seen within the game is very interesting to me

3. philosopher's stone (magnum opus)

the philosopher's stone is described as red so the red crystals and accents in anaxa's design could very well be a reference to that (also the symbol on his left sleeve reminds me of the symbol that represents the philosopher's stone. the symbol that represents him in his as ive written. or it could be a reference to the relic screen bg but. not going down that rabbit hole just yet)

4. tarot cards

his card in the as i've written book is very obviously a reference to the hanged man tarot card but he potentially could have references to at least two other tarot cards (i'll further elaborate odin and the hanged man next just wait)

he is referred to both as the fool (mostly in promotional content) and as a magician (by mem) and those corresponding cards (esp the magician) fit him very well

5. odin and yggdrasil

one interpretation of the hanged man tarot card is that it depicts odin hanging from the world tree irminsul. odin, very famously, is missing an eye (and a hand but anaxa currently still holds all four limbs for now) because he sacrificed it for knowledge of the runes

anaxa, very notably, is missing an eye. and anaxa seems to have a history of constant willingness to sacrifice his own soul

honorable mention to the real life anaxagoras (because if i added everything from all that i would be here all day) and his ideas of nous (oh how i sincerely believe anaxa knows of the aeon nous) because i want to wait just a little bit longer before i start breaking down the fragments in relation to anaxa

[universal-casey]

Act One: Soviet (Chapter 2)

Check it out on AO3!

Do not expect me to have chapter 3 out nearly as quickly lmao. But I was DESPERATE to write more than the little blurb from before

1894

The wayward Prince was avoiding his responsibilities yet again, chuckling to himself as he managed to slip past the gaze of his father’s royal guard. It was always easy. Toss a little rock in the opposite direction of where he wanted to go, and Soviet could easily escape the palace without having to explain every detail of where he planned to go.

Details that would do him well to keep hidden, for the moment.

Today, though, unlike the many other times he’d snuck off, it wasn’t to spend his time knocking the teeth out of other boxers in the area. His knuckles would remain unbruised, and both of his golden eyes would remain wide open.

Today, Soviet mused in his thoughts, bright eyes scanning his father’s courtyard, Today, I’m going to find her.

The Prince had heard many a rumor in St. Petersburg. Rasputin getting cozy with the Romanov Queen, dissent rumbling among the lower class, tensions between Austria-Hungary and Serbia: all of it senseless dribble that his father was certain was just baseless rumors. No, the only rumor Soviet was interested in, was another Earthborn around his age.

According to rumor, not long before Soviet himself was thrust upon his father as an earthen gift, the rumblings that marked his own arrival had been happening throughout St. Petersburg. Cobblestone roads shuddered. Diamonds sprouted in gardens. Foundations came loose. Crude oil seemed to run between cracks in the road. Then, amidst a gathering of peasants protesting something stupid Soviet couldn’t bother remembering, she had sprouted from the very roads of St. Petersburg. An Earthborn given to peasants, of all things!

She would be around nineteen at this time, if the rumors were to be believed. Her very existence fascinated Soviet. What would a Country, an Earthborn Country, raised by peasants be like? Rude and dirty, like his father oft compared Soviet to? Or prim and proper, a true showing of Earthborn nature?

***

Soviet was now long past the courtyard gates of Russian Empire’s palace. He slipped by the Winter Palace, avoiding the eyeline of as many Romanov guards as he could. Though he technically outranked the Romanovs in royal status, Soviet had no doubt they would relay news of his whereabouts to his father.

A chuckle left the Prince. Russian Empire would kill him if he knew where Soviet planned to go.

He slid into place amongst the crowds and pulled a hood over his scarlet face. There was little he could do to hide his true nature, that of being a Country, but he had discovered that if he put in an effort to hide his face, few would question him.

The sound of hooves against the cobblestone roads approached, and a blood-red hand reached out from Soviet’s cloak as he waved down a taxi. He climbed in, pressing his back into the seat as the hardest part of his little journey was behind him.

“Where to, sir?” the driver’s voice was low and rumbling, the result of years of cigars. His horses whinnied impatiently.

“Do you happen to know the whereabouts of a certain peasant-raised Earthborn?” Soviet’s heart raced as he asked the question. If anyone knew of where she could be, it would be the people. Any of his own, or his father’s, attempts to find her came up fruitless. As if she didn’t want to be found.

The cigar smoke caught in the driver’s breath, and Soviet saw his knuckles turn white on the reins. In a puff, the driver coughed and fixed his gaze straight ahead. “Has… the Imperial Russian Empire not given up on those er… rumors?” the question seemed strained. “Surely you wouldn’t want a better use of his time—”

“Russian Empire has no bearing on what I want to do,” Soviet interrupted. It commanded more authority than he intended, but Soviet hated how often he was compared to his father’s interests. He leaned forward, his eyes catching the light of the golden hour and meeting with the taxi driver’s own.

He cracked a smile and pulled his hood back. That didn’t seem to help the situation, however, as the taxi driver’s face paled further. “I swear I’m not bringing any armies or guards. I just want to see her. I won’t tell anyone you took me here, and I won’t tell anyone who or where she is. Please?” Soviet pleaded. He produced a small jewel from his pocket, a trinket he snatched from his father’s droves of treasures. “I can give you this in exchange. Real ruby!”

It wasn’t a huge offer. A measly jewel worth no more than a ten thousand rubels. But it was the most he wanted to steal.

The taxi driver’s eyes widened at the ruby, and a thousand thoughts seemed to run through his mind at once. Steam left his mouth, rising to the roof of the cab in the cold air. “… Okay. I can take you to her usual spot, your Highness,” there was a defeat in his voice as he took the offered ruby from Soviet’s hand.

“You can call me Soviet, sir,” Soviet could feel his father’s disapproving gaze from where he sat. Calling one lesser than himself ‘sir’ would have been cause for another etiquette lesson. He shook the thought. “And… thank you. Really.”

***

Soviet’s heels clicked on the cobbled street as he hopped from the cab. His hood was back over his head, shadowing much of his blood-red face in the increasing darkness. He turned to thank the taxi driver once more, as friendly a smile on his face as he could muster. “Thank you, again.”

“Don’t mention it. You’ll likely find her in the Rumbling Stone. Good luck,” the driver whipped his reins, and the horses began to trot. “You’re going to need it.”

“What an ominous thing to say,” Soviet laughed to himself. How bad could a woman raised by peasants be?

His feet began to take him to his next task: finding out exactly where and what the Rumbling Stone was. Soviet had his fair share of bars he frequented, but he’d never heard of any called “The Rumbling Stone”. Perhaps it was newer? Or dingy, and gross. As many things were in this part of St. Petersburg.

Rotten apples and stale bread lined the un-swept sidewalk, and it took considerable effort to avoid ruining his polished leather shoes. The oil lampposts in this area were dim, many rusted and dingy, and more simply shut off. Did the lamplighters ever get to this area? Or perhaps the lampposts were so old and rusted that oil no longer flowed through them. Soviet rubbed his wrists, subconsciously feeling his own pulse as if he were worried that he was an over-rusted lamppost.

“Our differences aren’t just surface-level, Soviet,” Russian Empire had pulled Soviet in for a lesson. At the age of sixteen, Soviet had noticed the discontent outside the palace gates. He constantly questioned the legitimacy of the Romanovs’ and RE’s rule. “People may try to poison your mind with the thoughts that you don’t deserve the throne. They may try to say that under your scarlet skin, you’re flesh and blood like them. But you’re not.” RE’s finger pressed to the open book detailing human and Country anatomy. “Mineral bones, oil for blood, flesh like clay, we are the furthest thing from the same. Our right to rule is as unbreakable as the diamonds that make our skeletons. They may outnumber us a hundred to one, but they do not have the right to rule like ourselves.”

“What about the Romanovs?” Soviet’s golden eyes flicked to the Winter Palace, the only other palace in St. Petersburg to match his father’s grandiose design. “They’re human. You’ve been here long enough to see a couple generations. Why do they get the same treatment as us, if our divine right is being Earthborn?”

RE’s expression conveyed that of an excited professor. “They’re descended from us. My father, your grandfather, the Tsardom, fathered the Romanov line. They’re a little removed, admittedly, but I see no use in trying to strengthen that relation myself. Their rule is as strong as ever. Remember that. Don’t let the peasantry try and convince you that you’re on their level. Not a drop of the earth is in their veins.”

Soviet was walking amidst his thoughts for so long, he almost didn’t notice the drunkards walking in his direction. They stumbled over the cobblestones, laughing amongst themselves with dirt on their faces and stains on their tattered clothes. Little attention was paid to the hooded Prince, and he kept his head down as he tried to shuffle past them.

“What a beaut, she is!” one sang into the air, breath trailing into the sky like a steam engine.

“White, blue, and red! Colors of the century! Think those’ll be our colors once we get rid of that tacky yellow?” another asked.

Soviet’s ears pricked to the conversation, stopping the momentum of his steps.

The third smacked his companion over the head, and slurred, “Don’t go talking like that! Remember Dmitri? Poor idiot made a whole flag and got himself sent to jail. I heard that ever since, His Royal Highness’s picked up that stupid search again!”

The first snorted. “He’ll have a lot of luck brainwashing her. Never seen a woman as stubborn as her.”

He was close.

Oh, oh he was so close to finding her. Soviet’s golden eyes flicked up to examine the signs, scanning each one to find the “Rumbling Stone”. The drunkards hadn’t gone far. Only a mere two buildings down, amidst the drab of trash, broken barrels, and shattered glass bottles, was a small hanging sign of the very name he was searching for.

His heels clicked as his pace quickened, and Soviet’s princely heart fluttered at the notion of meeting someone like himself that wasn’t his father, or Serbia.

The door of the Rumbling Stone squeaked as he entered, and Soviet felt the eyes of every patron on him. In a moment of weakness, he pulled his hood further over his face to better obscure his scarlet skin. The lights inside were dim, like the lampposts lining the streets. Only these lights seemed to frame everyone’s face in a gaunt, skinny way. Their cheeks appeared sunken in, their eyes seemed dull, and their skin seemed pale and sickly.

Soviet kept his head down, shuffling to the bar as his polished shoes caught the firelight and shined brighter than the eyes of the patrons. His perfectly ironed pants pressed into the grimy bar stool, and his throat cleared. “One… whiskey on the rocks,” his voice lowered an octave, but the uncertainty stood clear.

“If you’re worried about that voice of yours, you could try smoking,” the barmaid’s voice was smooth, light. It carried an airy feel to it that reminded Soviet of his silken sheets back home.

“No, I… I’m not looking for any comment on my… voice,” his cheeks felt warm.

The sound of ice clinking into glass filled his ears. A few seconds later, and a plain whiskey with ice was slid in front of him. “Do you want comments on your outfit, your Highness? Because you’re certainly not doing yourself any favors in that department, either,” the barmaid continued.

Soviet’s breath hitched in his throat, his heart skipping a beat. He knew Countries had trouble disguising their brightly colored bodies, but his outfit? How had that given him away? His eyes flicked up to the barmaid, face considerably paler than before. That’s when he saw it. Saw her. “How did you--?”

“Know it was the Prince? Ignoring the Royal Accent, your pants are ironed and navy blue. And you walk like you’re thinking about it. Not to mention, I’ve heard around town that a certain somebody has been dying to know where I am.”

Her face was round. The word soft came to mind. There was a determined brightness in her eyes, green as Irish pastures. Her long, snow-white hair reminded him of the fluffy clouds in his dreams. Her hands, though delicate in appearance, were rough and calloused on closer inspection. As if she were no stranger to physical labor.

This woman, the unknown and blurry subject of many a dream, was now standing in front of Soviet in true form. She had a full figure, and no doubt was no stranger to dealing with unruly guests. Her gaze held him completely still. Though it was friendly, there was an edge to it. As if she dared him to step out of line.

Her eyes left Soviet’s and moved to a dirty glass. “If you think I’m going to go pretend to be a lost princess or whatever, you’re severely mistaken. I don’t care what the rules are. Or what your pops has to say about it. Nobody stole me from my ‘rightful place,’ and I am definitely not telling you where my parents are,” her words remained succinct, hardly allowing room for argument. “So, you can go ahead and leave that train of thought at the station.”

Soviet’s mind was swimming. Here she was. Right in front of him. And better than he could have ever imagined her being. He held onto his glass of whiskey, his eyes never leaving her as he sat there in complete silence.

“I just hope whatever bribe you paid was worth it. Because you’re not going to find me again,” she continued.

That jolted Soviet out of his stupor. As if on instinct, he downed the entire glass of whiskey and shook his head. “No!” it came out louder than he meant it. Her green eyes fell on Soviet again. “I mean—no, you don’t have to worry about me telling my father. I… I think we started off on the wrong foot, here. I’m Soviet, Prince of the Imperial Russian Empire, heir to the—”

She cut him off. “Don’t need your whole life story.”

“… Ah. S-sorry. I just—”

Second interruption. By the third, Soviet’s father would have someone hanged. But Soviet kept himself in check.

“Mother Russia, okay? That’s my name. Don’t go shouting it to the rooftops, I’m trying to keep this on the downlow.”

“That’s a rather…”

“American way of saying things? Yeah, I’m aware. I know your dad’s got this whole healthy caution of the guy who beat The Great British Empire’s ass, but I think he’s got some good points.”

Soviet couldn’t help the look on his face, seeing a lady curse like that. A grin cracked on Mother Russia’s lips. “Well, go on,” she prompted. “Get back to what you were saying.”

“I…” Soviet waited for a moment. Mother Russia gestured for him to continue. “I just wanted to… see you. I didn’t… know Earthborn could be raised by humans. I’ve got so many questions to ask. So many things I want to know.”

“Well, would you look at that. A prince who wants to know something. Maybe you’re not as bad as your father.”

***

The night was long, and the moon was high. Mother Russia had long since closed the Rumbling Stone for the night; Soviet had since learned that her human parents owned it and named it after her birth.

“Nobody’s seen the earth actually birth something in years, so it was a really impactful event, I’m told,” she sat on the roof of her establishment with Soviet, gazing up at the stars. “Hence why this old place was named the Rumbling Stone. According to my old man, the protesters thought that the earth was going to swallow them up for daring to speak against an Earthborn. But, instead, once the earthquake settled down, a bunch of bricks went flying and there I was. Right at his feet. God, he was so afraid to touch me. One of those ancient rules…”

“Humans aren’t allowed to be the first to touch an Earthborn. He’d be put to death if someone turned him in,” Soviet finished. He was a few whiskeys deep, now. The nerves that wracked his body earlier in the night were gone, instead replaced a deep focus on every one of Mother Russia’s words.

Mother Russia nodded, her expression hardening as she looked out to the low rooftops of St. Petersburg’s poorer district. Russian Empire’s palace, Soviet’s home, stood tall and bright against the drab foreground. “It’s a stupid rule. I won’t even dignify it with calling it a law. It’s just another one of those stupid things used to keep us separated.”

“But we aren’t the same. It’s not just our faces. Your blood is black, no?” Soviet leaned forward to get a better look at Mother Russia’s face. The white of her hair and forehead was stark against the night, and the blue stripe across her eyes made the shamrock green of her eyes ever brighter. “Your bones are diamond. So… separation is inevitable. Why would we be here if not to rule?”

“There’s your dad, again,” a sigh left her chest, and the bags under her eyes seemed to deepen. “We don’t have to be the same physically to be equals. All of us are sentient. We all speak the same language. You and I just… happened to crawl out of the dirt instead of our mothers’ wombs. Besides, if we were born to rule, why are you and I here? There’s no more land left for either of us. And I doubt your father has plans of dying any time soon, so you aren’t an heir to anything. You’re the Prince in the Papers, and I’m the Rumor of the Streets. Hardly seems to be a reason for us to exist.”

Soviet pursed his lips. She had a point. The Romanovs had a reason to have children. They would die eventually. Russian Empire had no reason to have children. He wasn’t going to die unless the Empire collapsed, which was unlikely. So, why was Soviet born? Unlike his father, who came into power as the Romanovs did, Soviet had no reason to believe the Romanov line would end. The earth had no reason to thrust his existence into the world. Empires were strong as ever, only France and America seemed to be blips on the radar. And even then, France was locked in an inner turmoil, and America seemed perfectly happy on his own side of the world.

What was there now? What could be left for him if the world had settled? “Why would the earth create us if there was no reason?” his voice came out quieter than intended. It almost broke. “Humans exist to perpetuate their species, to continue to learn and discover. But us? Me? If there’s no reason… why exist?”

A small smile seemed to creep back onto Mother Russia’s soft lips. “I think there is a reason to be here. Not necessarily to be a Prince. Or, in my case, a barmaid. But… think. Maybe a year before you, I was born in the streets of St. Petersburg, in the middle of a civil protest. And you? A year later, you were born in your pops’ peony garden. Destroying something he’d carefully crafted over… however long it takes for peonies to grow. Those things represent passion. You’re red, like passion, too. Maybe it’s fate we met.”

“Fate?”

“I mean, think about it. You know how hard it is to hide. Every non-noble in St. Petersburg knows of me, but no one would sell me out for a… er… measly ten-thousand-ruble fortune, as you put it. But you found the one guy who would. And managed to get your pretty, manicured little ass through the one part that probably would not hesitate to sell you for ransom if they didn’t kill you. All the way to me. Maybe it’s time for a change.”

“You think my ass is pretty?”

Mother Russia snorted and shoved Soviet. Her laugh was loud, full of such a palpable joy that even Soviet couldn’t help himself from joining in. They laughed for a good, long while. Long enough that Soviet’s stomach ached, and his lungs burned. But seeing the joy on her face dulled any pain he felt.

He leaned back, resting his spine on the roof of the Rumbling Stone. The sky was clear. Pitch-black, with stars and constellations dotting it like little holes in fabric. He never wanted this moment to end.

“… Soviet,” Mother Russia’s breath plumed into his view. “That’s just sovet, but with an extra ‘i’. So, your dad just named you council?”

“He said it was because no one would refuse to give council to someone named it. I think he just didn’t want to bother coming up with a name that wasn’t ‘Russian Empire II’,” a dull laugh left Soviet’s chest. “But on the topic of names… Mother Russia. Seems a little weird to name a baby Mother anything.”

“My parents named me after the Motherland, so they named me Mother Russia,” she explained. “They said it’s because they wanted me to be a paragon for the people, more than you or your father. To them, and, well, to everyone, you two represent the Romanovs more than you represent Russia.”

“A lot to put on a baby.”

“Maybe, but at least my name isn’t Council.”

Soviet rolled his eyes, chuckling.

As the moon slowly slid into view, the time became apparent. This excursion had lasted way longer than he intended it to. He suddenly sat up straight, brushing the dirt and grime from his clothes. “Shit—father’s going to kill me. I need to go…” Soviet scrambled to his feet and looked down to Mother Russia. He held out a hand. “Will I… see you again? Or are you keeping to your earlier promise?”

She seemed to think for a moment, moonlight sparkling in the perfect pools of green. Her hand grabbed his, her grip stronger than he thought it would be, and she pulled herself to her feet. “If you keep your promise of not telling the High Tsar or whatever he calls himself, now, then perhaps I’ll stick around for a while longer,” her eyes gleamed, and Soviet’s heart rate picked up.

“Father’s probably going to make his guards follow me for a week so… see you again in a week?” he couldn’t stop the stupid grin tugging at his cheeks.

“See you in a week, Council.”

[fiamat12]

RE: Prevalence and use of NDAs

In the movie Red, White, and Royal Blue NDA’s are mentioned as a standard course of action for hook ups among politicians and families.

The president’s adult son is found with someone his room and the assistant who is in charge of monitoring the campaign/PR/cleaning up messes says, “I’ll bet you didn’t even have her sign an NDA!”

The implication was that for this high profile individual person, the NDA would be signed prior to any funny business as a standard course of action.

It makes sense to me that actors and anyone else in the private eye, especially those who work for a large production franchise (Like SL/Bton) would be instructed to follow the same precautions to avoid any scandals or public relations faux pas.

We don’t know how it all played out, but since A has already revealed enough to cause a scene in the fandom, and I assume L wouldn’t want to sabotage his own career, I’d imagine something went awry and she either didn’t sign one initially, and then ended up with more information/leverage that she could use to her advantage, and/or she didn’t stick to it or tried to get around it to serve her purposes by using anonymous tips to gossip writers, ghost written articles, and posts that imply things without outright stating them, often which are deleted later to maintain plausible deniability. If they (L&A) started out as friends, I’d can’t imagine them continuing to be friendly unless this was all a subterfuge that she was in on, and if so it was very messily done.

☝️I think you meant public eye Anon but private eye is funnier since Lukola has been so secret lol

Interesting thought on the blind items. I will say the People intern who kept writing adjacent articles of "packing on the PDA" lol seems to be in A's peer group 🤷🏼‍♀️

Imo, I don't think L & A had a relationship of any note, perhaps went on mostly group dates at best. I do agree that he prob. didn't have her sign an NDA, let her into the friend group prematurely and she had way too much info. to leverage about his personal life. Perhaps it isn't anything super scandalous in the big scheme, but seeing as fans were already touchy about Jade and his HBS and even brothel Colin, having A run her mouth just as S3 came out AND w/ him & N newly committed/ expecting, it could've been a PR disaster (which sadly it ended up being anyway).

My partner's take: "She's a vindictive B" (enough said lol)

Comments from the Discord peanut gallery ⬇️

"I can imagine that NDAs wouldn’t have crossed his mind with his friend group at the time since he’d known most of them since childhood. (Well, at least the guys.) I think it has certainly turned into a lesson in trust for all of them as they navigate becoming and living as celebrities"

" I don’t think he necessarily slept with her. Not because I don’t think it’s possible for him to have casually hooked up with her. But instead, because of what he did after that, and that is the awkwardness and disrespect to Nic of letting her be around so much after that. Don’t let your booty call turn up at the London press call or be around at the Valentine’s Day event, etc. Imagine letting her still go on the March LA trip while you're already dating Nic again [about to get engaged!]. He wouldn’t do that to Nic. Instead, that suggests to me that he kissed her a few times and she started to hope she could turn it in to more, but he never saw it as more. I do think he messed up by not getting her to sign an NDA from the start. I think he was modest and naive about the level of fame he was about to achieve."

[gatheringbones]

[“Georgia and Sue continued their search for literature with positive role models. Georgia, who had come out in high school, explained to Sue that "our voices were absent from literature. It's very sad that there is not more." They had heard about The Ladder and the Daughters of Bilitis. “Georgia and I tried very hard to find a copy; we didn't know how to find it! We wanted very badly to try to connect with that network, but everything was so invisible." Soon they journeyed beyond the university library.

We longed for a body of literature to read, and slowly we discovered the hidden lesbian characters. We had discussions about whether we thought that between the lines the author had intended for there to be just a hint. In the works of Emily Dickinson, Edna St. Vincent Millay, Willa Cather, and May Sarton we searched for the" hidden" lesbian, and there were two who seemed more obvious: Gertrude Stein and Sappho. We had several books of Sappho's poetry that we had given each other as gifts. Here there was no question about lesbianism, but we were interested if this was a real person. Finally we found some of the early pulp paperback books in the old Greyhound bus station: Odd Girl Out, Women's Barrack's, Warped Desire, Sorority House. We devoured all of those books and, of course, realized that they were a very different genre than The Well of Loneliness.

In her sophomore year, Sue continued to live on campus while Georgia lived with her mother. At the end of the semester, Sue had just completed her last exam after cramming in three all-nighters. Relaxing in her room that Friday afternoon, she waited for Georgia to pick her up for their well-deserved holiday. The phone rang at four o'clock. It was Dean Lois J. Duckworth, who had been the chair for campus orientation while Sue served as student chair that fall semester. “Back then there were very few women professors," Sue emphasized. “I had gone through my entire four years without ever having one! So when I had the opportunity to work at the dean's office I reveled in it. Here was a woman twenty or thirty years older, in a position of power and authority, and highly educated." The dean asked Sue to come to her office.

I told her I was getting ready to spend semester break off campus: “Dean Duckworth, I'm just exhausted. Would you mind if I made an appointment and saw you when I come back in two weeks?"

Her response was very icy. “No. You must come see me immediately."

Dean Duckworth was tall and starchy. A very severe disciplinarian, she wore her black hair cut short and bright red lipstick with never a smile.

Sue called Georgia to tell her of the slight change in plans, asking her to wait at home until she returned from the dean's office. “Take off your ring, Sue," Georgia pleaded unsuccessfully.

Sue walked the short distance to Dean Duckworth's office. As she entered the office, the secretaries were dutifully completing their tasks. Two paused, peering up from their typewriters to greet Sue. “I had to sit in the waiting room in the presence of these secretaries who had always known me because of my accomplishments on campus that were positive, not because I was involved in any discipline matter. I was absolutely fear-stricken that these women might have knowledge of precisely what Dean Duckworth was going to discipline me over.”

As Sue worried about what the secretaries might or might not know and considered various concerns that the dean might bring to her, she squirmed in a chair as the minute hand slowly swept up the time. A secretary's voice pierced Sue's private world: “Dean Duckworth will see you now, Miss Sponnoble."

Sue trudged down a long narrow hallway, stopping at the slightly ajar door. She hesitated. Sitting sternly behind her oak desk, Dean Duckworth beckoned her. In the cramped office with 1950s-style furnishings, there was no escape. The dean came directly to the point:

"Well, I need to tell you that there have been extensive rumors about you and Georgia. I have heard from numerous sources that you and Georgia are lesbians. Do you know what that means?"

Feeling a combination of fear and anger, queasily Sue calculated her response hoping not to appear upset. “No. Georgia who?"

"Well, in some college settings where girls live together and don't have an opportunity to be with boys they show unnatural affection for one another. Perhaps that has happened in your case?"

"I have no idea what you are talking about."

Dean Duckworth pressed further. “Is there any chance that any affection might have occurred in your room?"

Sue continued with denials.

"Well, when things like this don't happen in girls' dormitories, they happen in girls' sororities. Sometimes these are merely phases that girls go through. Maybe you are going through such a phase?"

Sue blankly responded, “I have no idea what you are talking about." Dean Duckworth unlocked her top desk drawer, slowly pulling out a yellowed file. “Sue, I want you to carefully examine the contents of this folder." Opening it, Sue was startled to see newspaper articles from across the country about students expelled because of their homosexuality. Her ears reddened and blood pounded in her quickly drying throat: “I don't see what this has to do with me. I don't understand."

"We happen to know that your parents are extremely prominent. Imagine how you would feel if you brought this kind of shame on them. If you're expelled you will never get into any college or university again. You will never have a college education."

Sue was dumbfounded. The dean went on to explain that an article, like those in the folder, might well appear in Sue's hometown newspaper. Incredulously Sue asked, “But how would such an article get up there?"

“We will place it there!"

A long silence was broken by Dean Duckworth's demand: “I want Georgia to make an appointment with me."

Sue's throat cleared as questions flowed forth: “Why is this happening to me? Why are you doing this? What am I supposed to do? What do you intend to do?"

Dean Duckworth first explained about the Johns Committee and the importance of reputation for institutions as well as individuals. “If you wish to stay here, then you must prove to us that you are not a homosexual. You must date men and report to me periodically on your progress."]

James T. Sears, from Lonely Hunters: An Oral History of Lesbian and Gay Southern Life, 1948-1968

[dyns33]

Family's bet

ALFIE IS BACK !!! I need to post one Alfie story per month or I explode or something.

Most of the time, Y/N stayed out of the conflicts between her brothers and her husband.

They didn't happen as often as you'd think, and most of the time they were over ridiculous matters that were resolved as quickly as they arose.

Furthermore, neither the Shelbys nor Alfie had ever asked her to play referee, as if they knew perfectly well what her answer would be, guessing her silent rule of neutrality, or didn't want to put her in such an embarrassing situation.

Only in the rare case where one of the parties dared to do something very serious would Y/N feel compelled to intervene.

If asked, and after a moment of hesitation, she would have admitted that she thought that if one of them decided to make a mistake, it would probably be Alfie. The King of Camden was known for breaking certain pacts when they no longer benefited him, in favor of more interesting partners. Business, nothing personal.

At the same time, these only concerned pacts with disreputable people or those he didn't like, who themselves hadn't always followed the terms of the contract, trying to double-cross him in one way or another.

Alfie Solomons didn't necessarily like the Peaky Blinders very much, they had a complicated history, but they were family now. He'd have to have a good reason to stab them in the back again.

To a more objective observer, it was more likely that it would be a Shelby who made a mistake. Arthur, John or Finn, given their temperaments. It was hard to say for the others, who covered themselves with a supposed veil of honesty and honor.

So it was with determination and anger in her heart that Y/N went to her brother Tommy's office to have a talk when she learned what he had done.

"Can you explain this to me, Thomas ?"

"Hello, little sister," he said, remaining seated and continuing to smoke calmly.

"Can you explain to me why several of the "bread" warehouses in South London burned down, and why I'm told your men were seen in the area just before the fires when they had no business being there ? And why, shortly afterward, you signed a sale with several of Alfie's customers, adding that you were sorry that their "bread" delivery wouldn't be possible this month ?"

"I have good reasons."

"I'm going to need more than that."

"Don't you trust me ?"

"Of course, that's not the question. Answer me."

"If you trust me, knowing I have good reasons should be enough for you."

After several years of marriage, Y/N had learned to take a deep breath during a conversation that seemed to be going nowhere, knowing full well that, with the men in her circle, shouting was pointless.

This was even more true with Tommy. Unflappable, vicious as a snake, he always managed to gain the upper hand, seizing the slightest weakness to turn it against his enemies and get what he wanted.

Without any qualms, he used the same method with his family, managing to make them feel guilty or stupid if they didn't go his way. It didn't work with everyone. Especially the women. Polly, Ada, and Y/N knew him all too well.

It wouldn't work this time.

"You know people are talking, right ? They're wondering what's going on. More importantly, they're wondering if this calls Alfie's authority into question. You publicly humiliated him. I haven't seen him yet, but I imagine he was surprised by the news and will want a good explanation so he doesn't wring your neck."

"Mr. Solomons is intelligent, he'll listen to me. And he'll never resort to violence, he knows you wouldn't approve."

"Just this once, I might make an exception," Y/N growled, standing proudly before him. "Don't use me in your schemes, Tom. Don't think for a second that this will be enough to protect you. If Alfie senses the slightest possibility of getting revenge with my permission, he won't hesitate."

Still calm, Tommy stared at her for a long time, blowing out the smoke from his cigarette. There were several possible outcomes. The calm before the storm. But Y/N wouldn't tremble, not this time. Not when her husband's honor was at stake, brother or not.

Seeing her determination, Thomas nodded, before flashing a small smile. She even thought she heard him chuckle.

"Tell Alfie he'll get a nice compensation. I'll take care of the rumors."

"I don't care about your compensation, I…"

"Y/N. Trust me. He knows why I did what I did."

Alfie didn't know why Thomas had done what he had done. As furious as she had imagined, he paced around his office, screaming like a madman and threatening the entire world.

He didn't calm down much when he learned that Y/N had gone to see her brother. At least, not before she told him she'd gone to him to reprimand him, and more or less gotten what looked like an apology.

It wasn't like Thomas Shelby to apologize, admit he was wrong, and look for a way to avoid the Wandering Jew's wrath since he didn't have his little sister's protection in this matter.

"… He apologized ?" Alfie repeated suspiciously.

"In Tommy-speak, you could say that. With a nice, annoying smile."

"And he said I knew why he did it ?"

"Did you do something ?" Y/N asked, narrowing her eyes, searching for any sign of nervousness in her husband.

But no. As far as Alfie was concerned, he hadn't done anything that deserved punishment. And if he'd done something, Thomas wouldn't have mentioned compensation, he would have simply taken what was due to him and let him deal with the consequences of his actions. For once, Solomons had nothing to be ashamed of.

He seemed to suddenly have a revelation when he saw Y/N ranting at her idiot brother. He stopped breathing for a moment, his eyes wide, and froze in his seat.

"The bastard."

"What ? Alfie, what ?"

"That dirty little bastard… He thinks he's clever. I'm going to kill him."

"You're not killing anyone until you explain what's going on !"

It turned out Thomas and Alfie had made some kind of bet. Well, not really, they hadn't shaken hands after spitting, and he hadn't discussed what the winner would get or what the loser would give.

But, at a family gathering, Alfie had affirmed that if she had to choose, his wife would always side with her brothers. He wasn't offended by this fact. He understood the importance of family, he admired that loyalty, that love. It was simply an observation on his part.

To this, Tommy had retorted that he was wrong. Of course their sister loved them, and because she loved them, she would kick their asses if they did something horrible for no good reason, especially if it was against him.

Unsurprisingly, this led to an argument, quickly forgotten the next day. At least, by Alfie, Arthur, John, and most of the other players.

Not Thomas.

Clearly, he hadn't appreciated anyone questioning his sister's impartial integrity. Or maybe he just found it amusing to prove Solomons wrong.

Part of his "compensation" was a proof of love, the absolute certainty that his wife would be on his side if anyone wronged him, even her own kin. Too bad it was bound to be accompanied by Tommy's mocking smile every time he saw him from now on.

"You are idiots. I knew I should never deal with your problems."

"I didn't ask you, treacle. You were the one who went to him, instead of coming to cheer me up. That hurts me greatly, by the way. Wicked woman, leaving me alone with my despair to go see her brother."

"Be very careful, Alfred."

"… You're furious with him, not me. Remember, love."

"You two could end up tied if you push your luck. Don't ever bet on me again."

"But I didn't… He was the one who… Yes, love. Sorry, love, I'll shut up now."

Y/N called her brother to give him the same order, which made him laugh, though he accepted her request without the slightest concern, before asking if her husband was okay.

She hung up without answering. Bastard indeed.

[bones4thecats]

Hi, its my first tìme requesting something so I hope im doing it right. I'm chosing from the emoji-coded prompt.

🐰 4 prompt with sasaki🌸 from RoR.

❥· No Smiles for You, Kojiro Sasaki × S/O

Character(s): Kojiro Sasaki (🌸) A/N: Hello there, @mynonopotato! Don't worry you did amazing on this request! I hope you enjoy it! ✎ Summary: After finding out your husband was missing from his medical room, you refuse to smile at him.

Fluff Prompt #4: "I can't smile at you, I'm mad."

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🌸 Kojiro and you were always seen smiling with one another, frowns only appearing when something truly serious happened. Being married for hundreds of years solidified your love, it was hard for some couples to stand a half of a hundred in the afterlife, yet you two made it over 400 years.

🌸 During his fight against Poseidon, you were seen smiling the whole time. Even when Kojiro was struck by the God of the Seas, you kept your calm smile on your face. "It was as if she knew what was going to happen in the end." Usashi Miyamoto would say to his son, Iori.

🌸 Lifting his head up to look at the stands, Kojiro saw his wife there, smiling. She stared into his eyes and just smiled that beautiful smile that screamed love to whomever she looked at.

🌸 But, that smile quickly faded when she caught news from Brunhilde that Kojiro had gone missing from his medical room. The flowers the woman held began to leak water from her grip strengthening on the stems.

🌸 "Is there any idea of where he could be?" You asked the eldest Valkyrie. She merely shook her head and said no, but that she had some others out to find the missing swordsman.

🌸 Following suit in that, you walked around, trying to find your husband. The man you called a fool was living up to that name wholeheartedly right then. Looking around the corner, you noticed some Gods there.

🌸 Rather than feeling fear, you felt bravery. You strode up to the deities and asked if they had seen Kojiro wandering around. The two merely looked at one another and back at you in confusion.

🌸 "I believe I saw him stroll into the garden area, Ma'am." One said, a kind smile on his face as you nodded and thanked him. "Thank you, Lord Rudra."

🌸 "Not a problem."

🌸 Rudra smiled as you walked away. While he sided with the Gods in everything, he had to be nice to those who proved themselves. It was just who he was by nature. Besides, you seemed very nice, so why be rude to someone who didn't deserve it?

🌸 You merely continued on your way, walking down the halls as you finally made it to the garden areas. When you finally made it, you saw two Gods in the doorway. These two being easy to identify; it was Odin, the leader of the Norse pantheon, and Zeus, the head of the Greek pantheon.

🌸 "Excuse me." You said. Zeus turned around and got flustered, causing you to cringe slightly. "What a pretty woman! Come to bring someone a present?" He said.

🌸 You rolled your eyes and walked past him, surprising the Seven Lucky Gods, but not surprising anyone else. They knew of you to a level that they knew you didn't care about other's opinions or views on you. "Sasaki Kojiro." You said lowly.

🌸 Kojiro jerked and froze. His eyebrows furrowed in worry as you looked at him with cold, dead eyes. Buddha smirked and started to chuckle as you walked up to your husband and poked his bandages, making him lunge over in slight pain.

🌸 "You were told to not get up until your wounds were healed. Does it feel like you're healed?"

🌸 "...Yes?"

🌸 Grabbing his ear, you began to drag Kojiro away. The others watched as you drug him out the exit you came from, most likely back to his medical room.

🌸 "What an interesting woman! I wonder if he would lend her to me for a night or two- OW!" Zeus yipped as Odin's birds pecked him on the back of the head.

▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰

🌸 "Come on, love! Please smile at me!" Kojiro begged, his legs tied to his bed as he clasped his hands in a praying motion.

🌸 "I can't smile at you, I'm mad."

🌸 Kojiro groaned and flopped back onto the mattress, hearing a slight creak as he pushed his weight on the materials below that held the mattress upwards.

🌸 You then stood up, your kimono falling completely onto the ground to cover your feet as you began to walk away. He looked at you and his eyes widened slightly and tried to chase after you, only for you to turn and glare at him.

🌸 This glare was one that made Hell itself freeze over.

🌸 "Stay down."

🌸 "Yes, Ma'am."

🌸 Walking out of the room, Buddha witnessed you close the door and stare at him. Your eyes were cold and calculated, much like what they were like an hour prior.

🌸 "Let me guess; relationship troubles?" He asked, lollipop moving around in his mouth as he spoke, a chill tone mixing with his obvious curiosity.

🌸 "Shut up." You said, crossing your arms as Buddha wrapped an arm around your shoulders and hugged you. "I'm still a little sore I wasn't invited to the wedding." He said.

🌸 "I didn't even know you then!"

🌸 "Mhmm, that's why."

🌸 "You're an asshole."

🌸 "How many times have you called your husband that today?"

🌸 "Fuck you."

🌸 "Y/N! MY LOVE! I'M SORRY FOR EVERYTHING! PLEASE COME BACK TO ME!" A scream tears through the tension between the two friends as you roll your eyes and feel your lips tweak upwards in a slight smile.

🌸 "Go get your hubby, lOvE."

Y/N:

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🦴 Copyright © 2025 by Bones4thecats on Tumblr. All Right Reserved. 🦴

[sunflowermc]

Finally, i finished this.

Meet Seo Ji-woo aka Malieon

I enjoy creating characters who seem ‘good’ on the surface but are actually pretty messed up.

Few things abt Malieon:

Personality

Malieon plays the part of the lazy, easygoing guy pretty damn well. A little too well, maybe. He cracks jokes, shrugs things off, keeps everything light—because the moment things get too real, too raw, he’s got nowhere to hide. Turning pain into humor isn’t just a habit; it’s survival. And sure, sometimes his jokes get a little sharp, a little too on-the-nose, but it���s not because he doesn’t care. If anything, it’s the opposite.

And then there’s the other thing. The part of him he doesn’t talk about, doesn’t even like to acknowledge—the part that’s wired all wrong. Like some self-inflicted cycle of wanting and hating in the same breath. He laughs it off, plays it down, pretends it doesn’t bother him, because that’s easier than admitting how deep it actually cuts. But every time he gives in, there’s that gnawing disgust afterward, like he’s just found another way to break himself a little more.

And then there’s him. The other voice in his head. The one that came to life when Mali was too young, too broken to fight back. He’s colder, sharper, built for survival in a way Mali never was. But he doesn’t want to take over—he’s not here to win. He’s here to protect. To keep Mali breathing, whether Mali likes it or not. He’ll mock him, taunt him, push his buttons just because he can—but at the end of the day, when it actually matters? He’s the last person who’d ever leave him behind.

Backstory:

Malieon once had a peaceful life—his parents, his friends, everything he cherished. As a child, he adored manga like Doraemon, Sailor Moon,v.v.. but it wasn’t until middle school that he truly found his passion for painting.

Then came the tragedy when he was ten. A single moment that shattered everything, followed by years of relentless bullying throughout middle school. It broke him—so much so that his mind created another personality to shield himself from the pain.

He barely remembers those years. Or maybe he chooses not to. By the time he entered high school, he had no interest in making friends. But then there was Minhyeok—the most annoying, irreplaceable person in his life—dragging him out of his downward spiral.

Time passed, and for once, Mali thought there was nothing left that could truly destroy him.

He stood there, blood splattered across his hands—Minhyeok’s blood. His body still warm, his fingers twitching ever so slightly, as if mocking Mali with the fact that life was slipping away right in front of him.

And he could do nothing.

No. No.

He clenched his fists so tightly that his nails dug into his palms, his voice raw with desperation as he lifted his gaze to the darkness around him.

“I want a deal.”

A low chuckle echoed through the air, thick with something.. predatory.

“Your ancestor Solomon said the same thing when he met me, you know.”

The presence loomed closer, suffocating, pressing against Mali’s very soul. But he didn’t care. He didn’t care about the consequences, about what would happen to him.

All that mattered was Minhyeok.

So he made the deal.

Bro is seriously struggling with the constant hypersexual episodes.

[sass-ruby]

Okay chat we shall talk about this episode ‼️

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Everyone knew this shit would happen ☠️

No offense to the show but, this is just the old same situation, just like with everytime eclipse came back

He'll just turn into an eclipse, be evil till he dies or realizes he has no purpose and go insane

Same.old.situation

I mean, I'm not really mad about it because I like drama and all, but it comes to a point where you're just like- "really?"

Why do dead characters ALWAYS get revived? It gets mildy annoying at one point, like what's the point of the characters dying???

I'll look at the positive side, though. Maybe this can make the whole infection thing more.. interesting. (I hope Rez ain't defeated or something- idk if he is because I don't really like the star power thing)

Because from what I can gather, it's been going quite eh, at least for me. (It's not really interesting to me)

So MAYBE, nexus can spice things up A LOT? I'd like that! I'd like it for to be like one of those apocalypse aus!! Nexus already seems to be wanting to make moves, such as killing dazzle- OH BOY

Actually interested to see that because I'm curious how he'd act with dazzle- he's never interacted with her

And I'm curious if dazzle will actually end up dead-.. even if she did, she CAN very much be revived, she's a soul. The only damage nexus can do is destroy her animatronic body atleast I think

Sun wouldn't take it well though, he's vowed to protect dazzle forever and wouldn't want dazzle to be put through pain

If they're gonna repeat the eclipse situation just with nexus, I HOPE IT'LL BE DELICIOUS TO THE POINT I'LL CRY

Like please, make me suffer because of the lore, I'm begging 🙏🙏

Make the family fall apart, make sun die for the first time in ALMOST 3 years, or make him so tired of his suffering always repeating that he kinda gives up and doesn't care anymore, just make them all suffer

Make it J U I C Y

Make us cry ANYWAYS TO THE ACTUAL EPISODE-

HONESTLY? The thumbnail and their actual reactions don't fit ☠️ They were kinda calm in constrant of their past times where the exact same thing happened. They've dealt with this shit so much that they're so calm 😭 literally I wasn't seeing much fear-

And sun dealt with it greatly actually! I loved how he himself started saying how nexus has a second chance at life, and can do something beneficial with it instead of holding onto the same old anger

But obviously, nexus is a fool, so he didn't care.. but hm, this can go interesting, I suppose

Oooo! I wonder if he'll meet KS? How would that go?? (KS- killer sun)

Imagine sun is actually forced to work with KS because of nexus and all or a deal- I think bro would go insane ☠️ he doesn't seem to like him very much- bro threatened him at the first time he met him

Also also- I wonder if nexus holds anger for solstice?? Since solstice IS the reason he couldn't complete his plan.. though, solstice is smart, I don't think they'd kill him off or something, it'd be no use

Or if he'll go after ruin? He seems to hate him- and ruin is also the reason he died. Even so, nexus seems to want to specifically make sun amd moon's lives hell

Goodness gracious, this'll bring drama AND trauma!!

Just PLEASE DON'T MAKE NEXUS AS PATHETIC AS BEFORE. I mean, he kinda fr is but DON'T MAKE ALL HIS ATTEMPTS AT MAKING THEIR LIVES HELL FAIL PLEASEEEEEE I BEG YOU

That's alllllll >o<

WE'LL SEE EACH OTHER AGAIN!! (Probably tommorow if tomorrow's episode is that nexus attacks dazzle)

TOODLES TUMBLR PERSON!! :DDDD

[sl-walker]

Boldly Reading: Watsonian vs. Doylist Reads, Death of the Author and Exploitation

I apparently couldn't help myself. I dunno yet whether I'm gonna keep that in the actual review of Issue 3 on Boldly Reading (where I apparently go into the deepest possible dives on this stuff), but I think it's an interesting enough chunk of writing and meta that I wanted to share it anyway.

Especially if any of you Boosteroos out there have any thoughts on it.

(I didn't get into the queer reading of him here, but I also believe that's another factor that does come into play. Whenever I do the inevitable writeup about that, I'll likely include this, or at least summarize it, but you can bet that it was on my mind as I worked on this.

--

One of the reasons why it’s particularly interesting to view Booster (as a character) through both the Watsonian and Doylist lenses is there’s usually something intriguing about both of those and how they sometimes tie together. Or how what happens in-universe can serve as a commentary on what’s going on outside of it.

Most of the people who would end up reading these reviews of mine — which are some pretty deep dives — already know Booster’s backstory. In its earliest form, it was just: Highly promising college football hero gets greedy and decides to bet on his own games only to end up disgraced. As time went on, though, more and more interesting details got added in, most often by Dan himself, which completely change the framing of that story. The basic facts of it remain the same — Booster getting caught up in a gambling scheme and completely wrecking his own future — but the context and reasoning go from being somewhat simplistic (if unique) at the outset to some frankly brilliant character writing.

And all the more brilliant because of what it says about the creative process, in addition what layers it adds to Booster in-universe, too.

I know that very probably it wasn’t planned out in that fashion from the jump because any creative writer will tell you that stories often end up telling themselves, winging off in directions unexpected. Good characters essentially seem to write themselves. That doesn’t make the writing itself any less amazing, mind; this is still fiction, springing forth from the mind of an author, and therefore the author deserves credit for that excellence. But it does make for a fascinating look into the organic nature of character development, as well as what time can often lend to a story as it passes.

Anyone who knows me knows I’m a merciless critic when it comes to professional writers. I don’t mean cruel (and generally try not to be) and I always believe in giving credit where I feel it’s due (and try to never forget that my opinion is still only an opinion), but I’ve been in this game myself long enough to not lionize anyone. Part of that is because I firmly believe you shouldn’t ever put people on pedestals; that you should always bear in mind that these people are people, no better nor worse than you. That way, when shit like what went down with Neil Gaiman happens, you’re not devastated.

Believe me, I do have a point I’m coming to with this, so you can keep reading to get to it, or you can skip to the rest of the review.

So back on the train — crazy or not — I sometimes try to take into account the author’s life (Doylist) when analyzing the character’s life (Watsonian) because the push-pull influences are neat as hell. Not always, though, because I believe there’s merit in the concept of Death of the Author; that a story’s meaning cannot simply be attributed to only the author, but also to the reader interpreting it.

Walter (owner of the legitimately comprehensive and fantastic Boosterrific) and I have discussed Dan’s writing some and our own individual interpretations, and I’ve even corresponded once with Dan himself, so my own opinion ultimately is that while Dan’s a perfectly fine writer — meaning that he can tell a competent story³, has some good ideas and you’re not likely to find yourself wincing too often — his spark of actual genius really was in the creation of Booster himself, and moreso, specifically in this volume.

In various interviews, Dan doesn’t exactly trash-talk his early work here, but he does make sure to include the caveat of how inexperienced he was and how much better he got over time. And as a writer, I can see that’s true. There’s a definite difference between early Vol. 1 and later Vol. 1. Dan’s skills improve with practice, just like the rest of us.

But again— there’s also a fundamental difference between skill and genius. His skills improved, but his genius — intentional or un — is on display in Booster himself, and how Booster interacts with the world, most evident here early on.

The evidence for this is in how Dan wrote Booster in Vol. 1 versus, say, when he took over the JLA. Dan does a better job in Vol. 1 by about three country miles. How he handles his own creation in JLA is just fundamentally bad at some points (specifically in making Booster a sexist asshole, which he never had been before); it’s almost as if he looked at how Giffen and DeMatteis wrote Booster (and well!) and then latched onto all the exact wrong things, some of which didn’t even exist prior, and pasted them over-top the lovely framework he put together himself, leaving both his writing and his character the poorer for it.

Dan might have been a more practiced and skilled writer in JLA, but I’d argue that — at least in terms of Booster as a character — he wasn’t actually a better one.

So, the point basically is:

(Doylist) Dan displayed real, shining brilliance in his creation of Booster, both initially and with the building revisions to Booster’s backstory.

(Doylist) The revisions of Booster’s backstory from ‘driven by greed’ to ‘desperately poor kid gets a taste of something better than subsistence survival and wants more’ to ‘desperately poor kid in a dire situation bets his entire future in order to save his mother and family and then gets a taste of having money and wants more’ in particular are absolutely fantastic from a character development standpoint PARTICULARLY because they’re doled out over time and actually build on each other. (Dan wasn’t the one who got to the ‘blackmailed by the mob’ part, that was Mark Waid, but that’s the one thing that brings it all together in ways that make me flail my hands.)

(Doylist) Seriously, I could write you at least 10K words on the brilliance of that psychology for storytelling purposes, and it’s made no less good because it probably wasn’t all that intentional.

(Watsonian) This also comes back to what I brought up last issue about the boy having some serious issues about vulnerability. Because once you get to the part where he got tangled up in all this trying to save his mother, in retrospect you realize that Booster himself must have given the harshest possible explanation for his behavior every time it came up prior to that. He had to have intentionally left out the parts of his story that would gain him at least sympathy from whoever was listening to it, which is polar opposite behavior from what one would expect from a young superhero looking to make it big. Booster doesn’t try to give himself a redemption arc. He basically paints himself as a villain. And that’s— incredibly damned interesting.

(Watsonian) The only reason I can see why he would do this, when it’s actually sabotaging him as a heroic figure, is because he can’t stand the idea of anyone knowing something that intimate (and likely sore) about him — meaning that he got on the path to wrecking his life because he was living in poverty and trying to save his mother — because of course they’d use it against him. This is the same dude who didn’t tell anyone his given name for at least several months in canon. Even more intriguing, it doesn’t seem to occur to Booster to invent a less lousy backstory, which is another fascinating twist of psychology. Booster’s a pretty unreliable narrator, but not for any fundamental dishonesty; whenever he lies — at least about big stuff — it seems to be mostly done in self-defense.

(Doylist AND Watsonian) The conclusion is: When you take all of these various factors in, you realize that Booster’s entire story — both backstory and in Vol. 1 here — is a hell of a tale of exploitation. And thus, the sociology (and psychology) in play.

The reason I’m saying all of that is because there are some things which are established as fact: Booster’s really fricken young here. Even in Vol. 1., Dan himself pointed out that Booster’s also pretty naïve, which certainly fits with his characterization, not only here, but also later in JLI. It dovetails neatly with those scenes I loved last issue, where Dirk is being controlling and Booster’s initial response is to try to appease and disarm the situation, and it’s only when pushed well past what most people on better footing would tolerate that he pushes back himself.

It also falls in line with the eighties in general, which was a mercenary time to be alive, at least here in the States. Reagan had dismantled a fair number of social safety nets, trickle-down bullshit was a thing, AIDS was killing people en masse, press secretaries were joking about gay plagues and everyone seemed to mostly be out for themselves.

While you can’t remove from Booster the fact that he was partially complicit in his own exploitation, you can also acknowledge that said exploitation was not only there, but a real thing: Everyone wants a piece of this kid. Everyone wants to figure out how to market him, how to make money off of him, how to manipulate him, and Booster trying to make money off of himself — which is why I said his evolving backstory is so damn genius — doesn’t actually make that any less reprehensible.

Tying it all together…! Thanks to his backstory, we know he was already primed for it, too. Because, as we find out later, everyone’s betting on him, everyone has a stake in this kid, everyone wants a piece of him. Add in that college football is rife with exploitation even today (I should know, I worked right next to a university football locker room and was heavily involved with every game), and young men are beating their bodies (and brains) to hell and back for an education or a shot at the pros, and suddenly, everything about Booster not only makes infinitely more sense, it also makes your heart ache for him.

So many of his experiences as a young adult are about his value to others as something more than as someone. Even, ostensibly, with the people who are nearest to him and should care about him as a person, with the exception of his family in his era, and Skeets and (partially, not totally, as we’ll get into later) Trixie. It’s little wonder he’s such a hot mess, one who has a deeply dysfunctional relationship with his own self-worth.

It doesn’t excuse his bad decisions, or those moments he acts like an ass and I wanna slap him silly, but it does explain them.

So, when you have people on the ground freaking out because his ‘bot got wrecked, not because it’ll hurt him but because it might either raise or ruin his earning potential, the sheer genius of how it all comes together in both the Doylist and Watsonian senses means Dan deserves a standing ovation, whether he intended to earn one or not.

And now back to your (ir)regularly scheduled review.

--

3. Unlike some people. (Tom King, for the uninitiated.)

[lullabyalikpoptarot]

Ateez (Green/Yellow/Red Flags) For Partners

Alright, time to get to this group for this series of readings. Let's see what they will share.

Hongjoong

Green (The Devil) I had to laugh when I saw this. He likes them freaky haha. In this deck, the person is wearing a BDSM style look, so he likes someone with a bit of a dark side and freaky behind the scenes type of person. And someone who isn't afraid to dive into those aspects. This is making me laugh.

Yellow (10 of Pentacles) Hmm, he may not be looking for someone too invested in a future. I am not sure he likes them to be too serious and formal about things either. He would want someone fun an interesting. Also, he may not like someone too into the aesthetics of things. He may not like someone who cares too much about appearances or how they both look together.

Red (7 of Cups) Someone to daydreamy, someone who doesn't make what they want a reality, someone confusing and uncertain about things. I just got I hate these types of people, oh damn, really. I just hear, make up your mind! So, he does not like people who can't make up their mind. Or just someone who stays within their imagination but doesn't explore the reality of things.

Seonghwa

Green (2 of Wands) This one made me laugh too. I like these dudes. Well, he would like someone he has strong sexual chemistry with, that is his green flag. Someone he gets along with and vibes with. He has to feel the pull and attraction. Probably great sex would be a thumb up for him.

Yellow (Wheel of Fortune) He may not like someone who rushes things and maybe rushes him about things. He may not be the type that is a committed type, so rushing him may not be something he likes. So, maybe someone who pushes him to commit. He may not like.

Red (4 of Swords) Someone aloof, non-chalant, way too chill. Someone who can't think, someone who is too passive about things, someone who doesn't have a hard work ethic. Someone who doesn't have a mind of their own. Basically, don't be a mindless person.

Yunho

Green (4 of wands) Someone with good vibes. Someone with good energy. Someone who is fun to be around and knows how to party or have a good time. Someone who lifts up the room. He may like someone more Extroverted.

Yellow (The Emperor) He doesn't like someone who plans things, too stiff and strict about things, and may always have a game plan. He likes to leave room for spontaneity. Also, does not like a controlling person.

Red (10 of Pentacles) Goes along with the yellow flag, but he doesn't like someone who invest way into the future and already has their future set. He seems like the type that prefers some spontaneity and for things to comes as they do. If you date him and you know how your future will be and it is already set, he may dip.

Yeosang

Green (The Magician) Someone confident, skilled at what they do. I would say he may want a person to pursue him. Someone who is good at charming and communicating with him. They just have this magical aura to them.

Yellow (7 of Wands) Someone defensive, very protective and possessive of him and the relationship.

Red (The Lovers) Someone way too clingy, once again overly attached to him and clings to him. He doesn't want the person to be too intense and way to into him like that. He likes his space. This is why someone confident is important to him, because possessive energy tends to come from insecurities, so that will be important to him.

San

Green (6 of Wands) Someone confident in their talents. He may like someone who showboats a bit and has a healthy ego and prideful of themselves. He may also like someone who cheers him on and praises him as well. He may like fun banter and competition with his partner as well.

Yellow (2 of Wands rv) This came flying out, not sure why this isn't a red flag lol I guess someone he doesn't have chemistry with. I mean that is everyone right lol Someone who doesn't vibe with him or get him or see his perspective on things in life, if they are vastly different and can't see eye to eye.

Red (Ace of Pentacles) Someone looking for money or just cares for that and is too practical and realistic about things. Also, he may not like opportunist. When money is the only way to their heart or if they want him to buy them things all the time.

Mingi

Green (8 of Pentacles) Someone he can chill with, someone who puts effort and dedication into the relationships and willing to face challenges of dating him, basically someone who is down with him through thick and thin and can handle his work life.

Yellow (6 of Cups) Someone overly romantic, childlike. He may not like cutesy type of personas. Someone who romanticizes relationships and life a bit too much and someone who lives in the past. He would prefer people to be a bit more realistic.

Red (10 of Pentacles) This card really likes to show up for this group. Once again, he doesn't like his partner to invest too much into the future and have a plan set already. Also, he may not like a partner to look at him as a money train or a means to financial security.

Wooyoung

Green (The Emperor) Someone strong, someone strategic, a planner, someone stable and rational. He doesn't want someone overly emotional. Someone who gets sh** done basically. A dominant figure. Hmm, haven't done their lgbtqia+ reading when I am doing this, but I am getting strong masculine energy here. He may be in the community or like men.

Yellow (Knight of Wands) Hmm, more masculine energy lol He doesn't like someone hypersexual. This is interesting because I feel like he would like this vibe of he has it himself, but anyway, he doesn't want a hoe or someone overly sexual. Hmm, I wonder why he is like that, I know I got asexual energy from him, and he may have that, so that is interesting, because he seems to ooze sexual energy, but maybe me not being a fan and as an outsider I see that.

Red (10 of Cups) Interesting card as a red flag. This would normally be a green flag. He may not want someone who wants a family. I don't think he is ready for that commitment. Not sure he even wants kids to be honest, so he may not want someone who wants kids.

Hmm, his energy is interesting. I wonder if there is some sort of trauma with him, but he kind of hides this side of him, so not sure I can pick up on it, but his energy is a bit weird with this one. Not bad, just interesting, weird.

Jongho

Green (Ace of Cups) Someone who is in for love and just an overall loving person. Someone who follows their heart and intuition. Someone who isn't afraid to pour their heart out. They just approach things out of love.

Yellow (The Sun) Someone too positive, an upbeat. Someone who has a big ego or a big presence. Maybe someone too loud and too energized. I see him preferring a more subdued and chill person. I don't see him liking an extrovert personality too much.

Red (3 of Cups) Similar to his yellow, a party animal, some who socializes a lot and wants to socialize a lot. Like I said, he prefers a chill person, a homebody type of person. This type of person may be a bit too draining for him. I see him not liking a very social person with lots of friends. Nah, he prefers the introvert with few friends.

Okay, interesting as always, some of these make me interested in working on their Boyfriend readings soon.

[yoomiwrites]

Sweet Innocence

Summary: Princess Y/N’s kingdom is falling apart, and her family’s only hope is her marriage to a cruel, old king. Desperate, she makes a reckless choice one night—and wakes up in Niji Vinsmoke’s bed. Now, caught between a dangerous engagement and Niji’s growing interest, Y/N must navigate a deadly game of survival where one wrong move could cost her everything.

Note: A new story? Yes, sorry. But I had the idea while playing Bounty Rush and had to write it. Bare with me. ;-; Already wrote 3 chapters of this one, but it will get slow updates. Also trying to make the read-flow better with some bold Highlights. Long chapters! I used Google as help for fancy names, hit me up if you know where they're from.

Third-person pov. Female Reader. Sensitive topics. Hard language. Slight Gore. Slow Updates. Enemies to lovers. Sex mentioned. Forced marriage. Death mentioned.

The Kingdom of Velderis had always been a jewel among the southern realms—a land of rich history, golden coastlines, and a proud naval fleet that commanded both respect and fear across the seas. Nestled between towering, mist-kissed cliffs and sprawling fields of wildflowers, the kingdom’s capital, Eldoria, stood as a monument to centuries of wealth and power. At sunrise, the city’s marble domes and copper spires gleamed like fire against the sky, and the scent of salt and citrus drifted through its cobbled streets.

For generations, Velderis had thrived under the rule of King Eldric and Queen Selene, their governance blessed with prosperity and an unshakable alliance with the great naval forces of the region. The people of Velderis lived well; merchants boasted of the finest silks and spices from distant lands, and the harbors were always bustling with trade ships. Knights patrolled the city with pride, and even the poorest citizens rarely went hungry. It was a kingdom built on strength and diplomacy, and for years, it had seemed untouchable.

But gold does not last forever.

Princess Y/N had spent most of her childhood blissfully unaware of the slow decay creeping through her family’s empire. She had lived as any princess should—dancing barefoot through the palace gardens, racing horses along the sea cliffs, and sneaking away from her lessons whenever the opportunity arose. The world had felt endless in those days, filled with color and warmth, and she had never once thought to question the security of her home.

She and her sister, Hitomi, had been raised in privilege but not in cruelty. Their parents were not the kind to lock them away in gilded cages or deny them the joys of youth. Queen Selene, ever graceful and wise, had taught them kindness before etiquette, while King Eldric, though impulsive at times, was a man who adored his daughters fiercely. His booming laughter could shake the very halls of the palace, and when he wasn’t tangled in matters of state, he was lifting them onto his shoulders or telling them stories of battles fought and won.

Yet even the strongest of men cannot stop the tide of time.

Y/N had first begun to notice the shift in the kingdom’s fortune when the feasts grew smaller. At first, it was subtle—certain dishes missing from the banquet tables, a quiet decrease in the servants attending them. The once-lavish festivals of Eldoria became less extravagant, and the royal family made fewer appearances outside the castle walls.

Then came the rumors.

She would hear them whispered among the maids as they folded linens, spoken in hushed tones by the palace guards when they thought no one was listening. The kingdom was in debt. The once-mighty fleet of Velderis had weakened, unable to keep up with the growing military power of rival nations. Trade agreements were failing. Coin was slipping through the cracks faster than it could be replenished.

By the time Y/N was sixteen, she could no longer ignore it. She had seen her mother’s quiet worry, the way her father’s temper had grown shorter. She had watched Hitomi’s perfect composure falter when their parents sat them down and explained the truth—Velderis was on the verge of collapse. Their noble status meant nothing without wealth, and if they did not act soon, their family’s legacy would crumble into dust.

And so, a decision was made.

Hitomi, the elder daughter, the beauty of the family, was to be wed to a prince of GERMA—a powerful and militaristic empire whose name alone struck both admiration and fear across the seas. It was an advantageous match, a way to secure an alliance that could restore Velderis’ strength. The engagement was arranged swiftly, and while Hitomi had not protested, Y/N had seen the sharp glint of resentment in her sister’s usually calm eyes.

But Y/N’s fate was far worse.

Her marriage was not to be a political alliance of status, nor a romantic tale of duty and love. No, her betrothal had been arranged to a widowed king, a man of great wealth and military strength but of no charm, no youth, and no kindness. He was known across the region for his cold nature and calculating mind, a man who had already buried two wives and sought a new, young bride to bear him heirs.

The worst part? It was not her beauty that had sealed the deal.

No one compared her to Hitomi, whose face was a thing of delicate, sculpted perfection. Y/N was neither as poised nor as graceful; her hands were calloused from climbing trees and handling horses, her laughter too loud for the refinement expected of a princess.

But that was exactly why she had been chosen. Because she was innocent.

Because her father, desperate to secure Velderis' survival, had gambled with her very life.

And he had lost.

One week after her twenty-first birthday, Y/N arrived at GERMA, a floating fortress that defied the very laws of nature.

It was not a kingdom in the traditional sense—no lush valleys, no grand palaces carved into the hillsides, no gentle rivers winding through quaint villages. GERMA was a nation built atop warships, a fleet so massive it could swallow entire naval forces whole. It moved across the sea like a living thing, an ever-shifting empire of steel and thunder, where politics were decided by power, and alliances were sealed in blood.

The royal vessel from Velderis docked at one of GERMA’s sprawling platforms, an expanse of blackened metal and towering, gold-plated buildings that shimmered beneath the midday sun. It was eerily quiet, save for the low hum of machinery and the rhythmic crash of waves against the hull. There were no bustling markets, no street performers filling the air with song—only the constant movement of soldiers in crisp uniforms, their faces unreadable beneath their helmets.

For the first time in a long time, Y/N felt small.

She had traveled before, seen neighboring kingdoms with their own unique beauty, but GERMA was something else entirely. It was a war machine, a kingdom of conquest, and its people lived under a different set of rules—ones dictated by strength, not diplomacy.

It was also where her sister’s fate would be sealed.

The entire reason for their visit was to finalize Hitomi’s engagement. Their father, ever the tactician, had insisted on traveling with them to ensure that the arrangements were to his liking. Their mother had gone to serve as a mediator, while Hitomi… well, Hitomi had no choice but to follow.

Y/N had been invited to the political gathering as well—her presence was expected, after all—but she had refused.

Not openly, of course. She hadn’t thrown a fit or dramatically stormed away. She had simply declined in the same quiet way she always did when something made her uncomfortable. "I’ll just get in the way," she had said, offering a small smile, though no one believed that was the reason.

Her father had sighed but hadn't pushed. Her mother had given her a knowing look but had said nothing. And Hitomi—perfect, elegant Hitomi—had simply nodded as if she understood.

So while her family disappeared into the depths of GERMA’s grand warship, where political discussions and marital negotiations were being handled behind closed doors, Y/N stayed behind.

And she fed the seagulls.

She sat on the edge of the docking platform, legs swinging over the side as she absentmindedly tossed bits of stale bread to the hungry birds. The seagulls were fearless here, darting dangerously close, their sharp beaks snapping at the crumbs before they could hit the water.

The sea was calmer than she had expected—an endless stretch of deep blue, reflecting the golden light of the late afternoon. From this vantage point, she could see the rest of GERMA's fleet scattered across the horizon, each massive warship interconnected by thick metal. It was a floating empire unlike any other, but Y/N found no beauty in it. It was cold, unyielding, built for battle rather than for life.

She sighed, tearing off another piece of bread and flicking it toward the birds.

She was delaying the inevitable.

Once Hitomi’s engagement was settled, her family would return to Velderis, and she would not be going with them. Instead, she would be sent to another kingdom, one far less impressive than GERMA but no less powerful. A kingdom where her future husband was waiting.

She still hadn't said his name out loud.

A chill ran through her despite the warmth of the sun. The very thought of him, a man she had never met, made her stomach twist. She knew only the whispers—the rumors of his ruthlessness, the cold efficiency with which he had ruled. He was rich beyond reason, his army unmatched, his kingdom fortified and untouchable. But that wealth and power had come at a cost, and it was said that the women he married did not live long enough to enjoy it.

Her fingers tightened around the last piece of bread.

She could still run.

It was a foolish thought, a childish fantasy, but it lingered in the back of her mind all the same. She had never been a coward, but this was different. This was her life being sold away like some political bargaining chip, her freedom exchanged for a kingdom’s survival.

But if she ran, Velderis would fall.

Her father had been clear—without her marriage, their kingdom would collapse under the weight of its debt. Their enemies would seize the opportunity to strike, their allies would turn their backs, and soon, Velderis would be nothing more than a fading memory in history books.

And so, she would marry him.

Not because she wanted to.

But because she had no choice.

She exhaled slowly, finally throwing the last piece of bread into the sea. The seagulls fought over it, screeching and snapping, and she watched them without really seeing them. Her fate was sealed. There was no escape.

But still…

A voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Hmmmm..?”

Y/N blinked, turning her head sharply. She hadn’t heard anyone approach, but now, standing just a few feet away, was a man she instantly recognized—Niji Vinsmoke.

His posture was almost lazily arrogant, hands in his pockets, head tilted slightly as he studied her with an expression caught somewhere between boredom and mild curiosity.

Y/N swallowed, suddenly aware of how alone they were. She wasn’t sure if he had been sent to fetch her, or if he had stumbled upon her by accident, but she had a sinking feeling that it didn’t matter.

Because unlike her, Niji Vinsmoke was not trapped.

He was free.

And for the first time in a long time, Y/N felt something dangerously close to jealousy.

For a long moment, Y/N said nothing.

She simply stared at Niji, taking in the sharp, effortless confidence in the way he stood, the glint of amusement hidden just beneath the surface of his smirk.

He looked every bit the prince of GERMA—tailored suit, pristine and likely worth more than most people’s yearly income, the dark fabric perfectly fitted to his broad frame. A high-collared cape draped over one shoulder, fastened with gold accents that caught the light. His signature sunglasses rested on the bridge of his nose, hiding his eyes completely. Even so, she could feel him watching her, assessing her with the same cool detachment one might have for a mildly interesting insect.

And yet, despite all of that, despite the unmistakable weight of his presence—she didn’t feel the need to bow.

Instead, she let out a slow breath and looked back at the sea. “You’re not very polite.”

The corners of his mouth twitched, a near-smirk that didn’t quite form. “And you’re not very subtle,” he replied. “But I think we’ve already established that.”

Y/N ignored him, focusing instead on the distant waves, her fingers brushing absentmindedly against the cool metal of the platform beneath her. It was easier than looking at him, easier than acknowledging the fact that she was speaking so freely to someone she probably shouldn’t.

GERMA was dangerous.

Everyone knew that.

Its princes were dangerous—weapons first, men second. Raised for war, hardened by battle, with no need for sentiment or mercy. She had heard the stories, knew what kind of people the Vinsmokes were. And yet, here she was, trading words with one of them like it was the most natural thing in the world.

She should have been afraid.

But instead, she found herself irritated.

He was still standing there, still watching her with that air of detached amusement, as if waiting for her to crack first.

So she turned back to him, arms crossing over her chest. “Shouldn’t you be at the meeting?” she asked, lifting an eyebrow. “Or do Germa princes get to skip out on their royal duties?”

Niji huffed out something that might have been a laugh. “The trial ended ten minutes ago,” he said, slipping one hand into his pocket. “But I’ll be sure to let my father know you’re so concerned about our political affairs.”

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “You don’t need to.”

“Oh?” He tilted his head slightly, as if studying her through the tinted glass of his sunglasses. “And what exactly are you doing out here, then? Feeding the seagulls? Hiding from something?”

Her fingers twitched, but she didn’t react. She wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.

Instead, she reached for the last remaining crumbs of bread, tossing it toward the water with deliberate ease. “Not everyone enjoys sitting through hours of royal negotiations,” she said. “Some of us prefer fresh air.”

His smirk widened just a fraction.

“You talk much for a servant.”

She froze for half a second.

Then, slowly, she turned to face him fully. “Excuse me?”

He shrugged, as if the matter was of no real importance. “You’re dressed plain,” he said, gesturing lazily at her attire. “And you’re out here alone, wasting time with birds while everyone else is inside doing something actually productive. Not exactly a princess-like image, is it?”

She clenched her jaw.

Of course. Of course he would make such an assumption.

Unlike Hitomi, she had never cared much for the delicate, embroidered gowns or elaborate hairstyles their station demanded. She preferred practicality—a simple yet elegant tunic, high boots built for movement, and a cloak that shielded her from the ocean breeze. And now, apparently, that was enough for him to assume she was beneath him.

Her pride flared like a spark catching fire.

“I am Princess Y/N of Velderis,” she said coolly, her chin lifting just slightly. “The second daughter of King Eldric and Queen Selene.”

She expected shock, or maybe a hint of embarrassment.

Instead, Niji merely raised an eyebrow, adjusting his sunglasses. “Huh,” he said, as if it was the most unimpressive thing he had ever heard.

She grit her teeth.

“And,” she continued, voice clipped, “what I wear is none of your business.”

That, at least, earned her a short chuckle.

“Well,” Niji said, taking a slow step forward, just enough to lean in slightly, his voice dropping into something mockingly conspiratorial. “If you don’t want people mistaking you for a servant, maybe don’t dress like one.”

She stiffened.

A low, simmering frustration burned in her chest, but she bit her tongue, forcing herself to stay composed. He wanted a reaction—expected one, even. But she wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.

Instead, she turned on her heel, stepping away from the platform’s edge.

“I should go,” she muttered under her breath.

“Good idea,” Niji said smoothly, watching her with that same infuriating smirk. “Wouldn’t want your future husband to think you’ve gone missing.”

That made her pause.

Just for a fraction of a second.

He didn’t know who she was engaged to. He was only poking, testing—but the fact that he even mentioned it at all sent a wave of cold realization through her.

She wasn’t free.

Not like him. Not like any of the people walking around this kingdom built on steel and war.

Her fingers curled into fists, but she didn’t turn back. She simply kept walking, her steps quick and purposeful as she made her way back toward the ship where her family was waiting.

Behind her, Niji let out a soft laugh—one that carried just enough amusement to let her know he had won this round.

Y/N didn’t stop walking until she reached the ship.

Her heart was still beating faster than she’d like, her frustration from her exchange with Niji lingering like an unwelcome guest in her chest. She had half a mind to throw something overboard—maybe one of those expensive, gold-plated goblets the GERMA royal family probably drank out of, just to watch it sink into the abyss.

But that wouldn’t change anything.

Her fate was sealed, and no amount of frustration could undo the chains her family had wrapped around her wrists.

She stepped onto the deck of their royal ship, brushing past a few familiar guards who offered quick bows as she made her way to the cabins. She needed to see Hitomi. Needed to know how things had gone, what decisions had been made behind closed doors, how much longer she would have her sister by her side before they were both married off to men they barely knew.

She found Hitomi in her cabin, seated by the large, ornately carved vanity table near the window. The room was filled with the soft golden glow of the evening sun, casting a warm light over the space, but Y/N felt no comfort in it.

Hitomi glanced up as she entered. “Oh, you’re back,” she noted, voice light.

Y/N wasted no time. “Well?” she demanded, shutting the door behind her. “What happened? What was decided?”

Hitomi let out a small hum, tilting her head slightly as she picked up a silver hairbrush, running it through the long, sleek strands of her dark hair. She looked... calm. Even pleased.

Y/N narrowed her eyes.

“Well,” Hitomi said at last, “the wedding is scheduled for two weeks from now.”

Y/N’s stomach dropped slightly. Two weeks. That was fast.

Too fast.

“But,” Hitomi continued, “it seems they haven’t decided who I should marry yet.”

Y/N frowned, stepping further into the room. “What do you mean?”

Hitomi set her brush down, turning in her chair to face her fully. “Father and Mr. Vinsmoke couldn’t come to an agreement,” she said, a faint, knowing smile curving her lips. “Father wants me to marry Ichiji, but Mr. Vinsmoke isn’t ready to give up his eldest son so easily. They’re still… negotiating.”

Y/N stared at her. “And you’re fine with that?”

Hitomi shrugged one delicate shoulder. “I suppose,” she said airily. “I’ll be married to one of them regardless.”

Y/N clenched her jaw. “And you’re okay with that?”

That earned her a small, amused glance. “They’re more attractive than I expected,” Hitomi admitted, leaning back against her seat. “I don’t suppose it really matters which one I end up with, as long as he’s not a bore.”

Y/N’s hands curled into fists. How? How could she be so calm about this? How could she act as though she were picking out a new gown instead of a husband?

“This is a marriage, Hitomi,” she said sharply. “Not some game.”

Hitomi’s faint smile faltered for the first time.

For a brief second, something flickered in her dark eyes—something that looked almost like sadness. But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced once more with that same calm, unreadable expression.

“It is a game, Y/N,” she said softly. “We just don’t get to make the rules.”

Y/N swallowed hard.

She hated that answer.

She hated that it was true.

Hitomi sighed, shifting slightly in her seat, her gaze drifting toward the open window. The sea stretched endlessly before them, shimmering in the fading sunlight. “But we’re not here to talk about me, are we?” she mused. “I suppose you’d rather talk about your upcoming wedding, hm?”

Y/N went rigid.

Hitomi tilted her head slightly, her voice turning almost too casual. “To King Zeang of Malvera.”

Y/N’s stomach twisted at the sound of his name.

Zeang.

Y/N turned away, gripping the back of a nearby chair. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

But Hitomi only studied her, expression thoughtful. “You should,” she said. “You should talk about it.”

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut. “There’s nothing to talk about,” she muttered. “The decision has been made.”

Hitomi’s voice turned quiet. “You don’t have to go through with it.”

Y/N let out a bitter laugh, turning back to her. “And what do you suggest?” she asked, voice dripping with sarcasm. “That I run away and doom our kingdom to collapse?”

Hitomi’s gaze was steady. “No,” she said. “I’m suggesting that maybe, just maybe, we could find someone else to marry instead.”

Y/N frowned. “What are you talking about?”

Hitomi exhaled slowly, rising to her feet. She walked over to the window, fingers resting lightly against the frame as she stared out at the vast expanse of the ocean.

“You know,” she said after a moment, “Zeang never kept his previous wives for long.”

Y/N stiffened. “I’m aware.”

Hitomi’s fingers curled slightly. “And do you know what they all had in common?”

Silence.

Y/N’s heart thumped loudly in her chest.

Hitomi turned to her, eyes dark and serious. “They were all innocent.”

A heavy, suffocating silence filled the space between them.

Y/N’s breath caught.

Hitomi watched her closely, as if waiting for something to click.

And then, softly—almost gently—she repeated it.

“If you weren’t innocent, he wouldn’t marry you either.”

Y/N’s hands went cold.

She stared at her sister, trying to understand exactly what she was implying, exactly what she was suggesting. But her mind was moving too fast, emotions crashing into each other like waves in a storm.

“That’s—” she began, but she didn’t even know what she was trying to say.

Hitomi sighed, stepping closer, placing a delicate hand on her shoulder. “Think about it,” she said, voice softer now. “Our kingdom needs this marriage, yes. But if you were… disqualified, they’d simply have to find someone else, wouldn’t they?”

Y/N swallowed hard.

Her mind reeled.

She had spent so long believing that she had no choice, that she was trapped in a fate she couldn’t escape. But now, for the first time, there was something else.

Something dangerous.

Something…possible.

Hitomi gave her shoulder a light squeeze before stepping back. “Just something to consider,” she murmured.

And with that, she returned to her seat, picking up her brush once more as if the conversation had never happened.

But Y/N?

Y/N stood frozen, her world suddenly spinning in an entirely new direction.

The party was louder than expected.

Y/N had thought it would be a simple gathering, something dignified and restrained, given that it was meant to honor the unity of two powerful nations. But of course, this was GERMA 66—a kingdom that was anything but dignified.

It was a riot of noise and movement, filled with the clatter of gold-rimmed goblets, the occasional sound of shattering glass, and the boisterous laughter of men who lived without fear. The scent of roasting meat, sweat, and expensive liquor thickened the air, and all around her, nobles and warriors alike indulged with reckless abandon.

Her father was at the center of it all, already deep into his cups, his booming laughter rising above the din as he slapped Judge on the back like they were old friends instead of two kings negotiating their children’s futures.

Y/N barely acknowledged any of it.

Her hands were tight fists at her sides, her breath short and uneven as she stood near one of the long banquet tables, staring blankly at the bottles of alcohol lined up before her.

She had spent the entire evening thinking.

Thinking about Hitomi’s words.

"If you weren’t innocent, he wouldn’t marry you either."

The sentence had lodged itself deep in her mind, replaying over and over like a cruel taunt.

It was simple. Blatantly simple.

A way out.

She had never been particularly sentimental about her purity. It wasn’t something she clung to with any great sense of importance. But now—now it had become a bargaining chip.

A key to her own freedom.

Her throat felt tight, her palms slightly damp as she finally reached forward, her fingers brushing over the bottles. Her gaze scanned the labels, searching for the one with the highest proof.

She wasn’t foolish.

She knew herself well enough to understand that she wouldn’t have the courage to go through with it if she were sober.

So she wouldn’t be.

The bottle she selected was strong—stronger than anything she had ever dared to drink before.

She poured herself a glass. Downed it in one go.

It burned.

A hot, fiery path down her throat, sharp enough to bring tears to her eyes.

She coughed, her body immediately rejecting the intensity, but she forced herself to keep going.

Another glass.

Then another.

The world around her began to blur at the edges, the sounds of laughter and clinking goblets dulling into an indistinct hum.

She could feel it now—the warmth spreading through her limbs, the soft fuzziness settling into her brain, numbing everything it touched.

Good.

This was what she needed.

She stumbled away from the table, barely aware of her surroundings anymore. Her vision was unfocused, her thoughts hazy, but she had one goal in mind.

A man.

Any man.

Someone to make sure she could never be married off to Zeang.

Her steps were unsteady as she wove through the crowd, her body light, her mind floating somewhere between awareness and unconsciousness.

Then—she bumped into someone.

A firm, solid figure.

Strong.

Warm.

The scent of something clean and expensive filled her senses—subtle cologne mixed with the lingering sharpness of the sea and sweat.

She barely looked up.

Didn’t care who it was.

Instead, she stood on her tiptoes, swaying slightly, and pressed her lips against his.

The touch was brief, barely more than a soft press of warmth, before darkness swallowed her whole.

...

Y/N awoke to noise.

Loud. Jarring.

The clash of metal against metal, the distant sounds of shouted orders, the rhythmic pounding of boots against the floorboards.

For a brief moment, she didn’t register anything at all.

Her mind was still wrapped in a thick, alcohol-induced haze, her body heavy and warm, nestled against something soft and unfamiliar.

She blinked groggily, her lashes fluttering as she stretched—

Only to feel cool air against her bare skin.

Her bare skin.

A strange, creeping feeling crawled up her spine.

Slowly, she sat up, the sheets sliding down her body. The moment she saw herself, the moment she saw the way her naked form was tangled in silk covers, her heart stopped cold.

She felt her breath hitch, her fingers clutching the sheets tightly, dragging them up to her chest as panic rose like bile in her throat.

This…

This wasn’t her bed.

Her pulse pounded in her ears as she darted her gaze around the room.

The space was larger than hers, the walls lined with neatly arranged weapons, the faint scent of steel and cologne lingering in the air.

This wasn’t her cabin.

This wasn’t even her ship.

Her mind raced, piecing together what had happened.

The party.

The drinking.

The kiss.

Then—blackness.

Her stomach twisted violently.

Who?

How?

Her thoughts were still sluggish, her memory a hazy void, but before she could dwell on it any further, the door creaked open.

Footsteps.

She snapped her head up, her grip on the sheets tightening like a vice.

And then—

Her entire body went still.

Niji Vinsmoke stood in the doorway.

Still in his training gear, a towel draped lazily over his shoulders. His blue hair was slightly damp, strands falling across his forehead in a way that should have looked casual, but instead sent a sharp, sinking dread straight into her gut.

He took one look at her.

And grinned.

A slow, amused smirk that curled at the edges, sharp and mocking, as his gaze flickered down to where she sat clutching the sheets to her chest.

Y/N felt her face drain of all color.

Oh.

Oh no.

Niji clicked his tongue, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorframe.

“Well,” he drawled, his voice thick with amusement. “You sure know how to pick ‘em, Princess.”