#it was difficult to keep things equal to all three but ig with time i can learn to balance

[i-just-want-to-destroy]

starting to dm dnd is one of the best choices ive made in my nerd career ngl. riding on a high after an awesome session im on cloud 9

[willardsrestwidow]

❝We hold it in our eyes, the answer to it all❞ - Molly O'Shea x Fem!Reader

Pairings: Molly O'Shea x Fem!Reader, Molly O'Shea x (if-you-squint-your-eyes)OC!Reader.

Synopsis: After years of living as a hermit in a secluded hut in the woods, you finally find freedom, only to stumble into a life of crime. Stealing was nothing new to you, but joining a gang of outlaws changes everything. For the first time, the allure of shimmering gold pales in comparison to the captivating gaze of a certain pair of Irish green eyes.

Word Count: 5,3k

Warnings: Dutch, toxic-relationship, couple arguing but no physical violence, Dutch again, and eventual smut - oral, fingering; wlw sex basically.

Please only read if you're +18!

A/N: girlies and pals, I'm down bad for this woman, and that's that ig. I never wrote for rdr buuuuuut ive been a reader for a long time now. And speaking of long things, it's 5k words yall.... the thirst was IMMENSE!!!

Eyes were the windows to one’s soul.

It was what you were taught still as a youngster living out in the woods with your Pa.

When hunting, you just had to look into the animal’s eyes to know what sort of prey they would be. The slight convulsing of the irises, he’d say, was an indication of weakness. A fixed gaze on something else or complete disregard for human presence meant you’d need more bullets and more air in your lungs to chase the creature through the difficult terrain. And, of course, there were the eerie stares that seemed to pierce your soul — slit pupils or fully dilated ones — creatures you would encounter only three times in your life. Pa would mention bears and alligators, foul beings not to be trifled with, and a secret third one he would take to his humble grave, never to be revealed.

Well, regardless, the hunt had grown in you over time until Pa’s death, coinciding with when your needs began to grow beyond nature’s boundaries. Like a fish drawn by the shimmery light in the ocean, you took the first step out of the small shack, not knowing it’d would be the last time you set foot there.

In civilization, you found the same types of stares in store clerks, rich folk, and equally petty thieves. For once, a bullet between their eyes was not the ideal route for most encounters, if what you faced could even be called that. You began small—a poacher with a weakness for beautiful women, using the night and darkness to act upon your urges. There was no need to grow in what became your dark habit, to seek fame or further luxuries. You were content with sleeping in a different place every night until a late-night robbery got the entire sheriff’s ‘cavalry’ tailing after your sorry-ass. In the end, you rode your stolen horse off a cliff, resulting in multiple mild injuries, including a sharp stick in your thigh that rendered you bedridden for an entire week.

Bedridden, that is, because fate granted you a chance by sending a group of broad-shouldered figures mounted on horses your way. Or perhaps it was the other way around. It was while being spoon-fed by a lovely girl with dark features that you learned to whom you owed your gratitude, and the name rang a bell, if not several.

“I ain’t cut for washing clothes by the riverbank like they do. I mean, I can, but…” you recalled saying one sunny morning, the sunlight shining upon Clemens Point, to the only person you’d seen listening to others: Arthur Morgan. His hooded, blue eyes seemed to be everywhere around camp as he listened to you, even on Mary-Something, who was mindlessly reading a novel on her break. You couldn’t tell for sure because the man wouldn’t stay in one place, forcing you to keep chasing after him. Your lungs cried for help as you continued, “I just… hah, I can be useful outside camp too!”

“What they been feedin’ you and Miss Adler, huh? Look, if Dutch ain’t lettin’ you out, maybe you should try winning his trust,” Morgan mumbled over his shoulder. “Now, if I were you, I’d start with that laundry basket.”

“Did you start with laundry too? Uh… Morgan?”

Thus, your first, real week was marked by incessant running after dirty laundry and helping Pearson with cooking — which, in hindsight, was as tiring and demanding as any other job. Oddly enough, you couldn’t catch sight of Dutch or even enter his luxurious tent, the same being kept with its flaps down at all times as a high-pitched opera always emanated from within.

Like a trapped hummingbird, your patience began to wear thin. Dangerous thoughts of returning to the woods plagued your mind for a full night, but a warm morning opened your eyes to a bigger catch.

“Can I smoke in silence, woman? In God’s name, be quiet!” was the first human sound to be heard from a tent far from where you were, early on, gathering the rags sprawled around a sleeping Uncle. The gravelly tone with a slight crack in some words made you perk your head up and forget your duties. You couldn’t understand the stance your body took, as if you were young again, with a gun bigger than your body, which could just as well have been the damned laundry basket, and back out in the silent woods. You allowed the memory to take over, and careful steps to take you just about as close as a hunter could get to a creature.

An irked Dutch, deep creases carving his forehead and squinted eyes barely visible, tried to light the fat cigar hanging from his lips in front of his tent. A few feet away, Hosea sharpened his knife, and a determined Grimshaw marched across camp, though neither seemed to be part, or concerned about what soon followed.

From behind one of his shoulders, a flash of red, curly hair appeared and then disappeared. You figured it was his woman — the name failed you at the moment, but the intriguing freckled face, often marred with sadness, did not. “Charles saw it too, y’know?” she sounded from behind him, surely standing on her tiptoes for you saw another glimpse of her hair. “Charles, and Tilly, and John — bleedin’ John who’s never here has seen it. Everybody saw how you ate her with your eyes!”

“You’ve been on it since yesterday,” Dutch answered, his face showing neither sympathy nor worry about her tone. “Go get some rest. Lord knows you need it.”

“Ah, it would be easy for ya, wouldn’t it? Surely if I slept, if I disappeared, if I died, you’d be free to roam this earth after each pair of legs that may captivate ya.”

The vainglorious leader, now with a successfully lit cigar between his fingers, turned his back to you to direct his next words to the afflicted woman. “Die you shall if you spend another night wide-awake, thinking absurdities like the one you speak of.” Being met with an audible groan, he continued, “Rest, Miss O’Shea. Hopefully you oughta wake up more elucidated.”

Perhaps it was for the better that the broad-shouldered man kept her reaction veiled behind his physique and muffled her muttered response with an audible exhale. No, no 'perhaps'—it was meant to be, for it built the perfect suspense, pushing you just a tad closer to the scene in order to experience the long-awaited climax in the first row.

And, boy, did that also serve to wake the entire camp up.

Your ears caught the words, “You will know I didn’t cross the Atlantic to be your gimcrack,” before a satisfactory crack pierced the air. Angling your curious body, you were blessed with the view of the Irishwoman’s heels stomping on Dutch’s opera shellac record, straight out of his gramophone. His reaction was as expected; he let out a roar, dropped his cigar—which dangerously disappeared between his tent’s loose floorboards—and lunged at the redhead. At that very moment, you too dropped what you’re holding and charged forward to her aid, only to be rooted in place by a firm grasp on your upper arm. You turned to confront the new target of your rage, but upon facing a huffing Arthur Morgan, the grumbles emanating from within your chest ceased.

“I wanted you to feel it for yourself, but I don’t think you even have a heart to love a ting in the first place,” O’Shea continued, sounding ten paces farther away. “I’ll break whatever you own, and hope one day your pain will come near mine!”

A glance behind your shoulder was enough to spark another fire in you; the man’s big hands were then wrapped firmly around her arms. And you were sure to have convulsed under Morgan’s grasp. Alas, the sight wouldn’t come near as infuriating as the hushed threats against her ear, and ultimately the release of her as if she wasn’t worth his time. Before gathering with a somber Matthews, who was drawn in by the fight, Dutch turned to the disheveled one to let out a last hiss, “I dare you embark on the first ship back to your land,” and riveted his warning gaze towards you.

“Brown bears; damn fools, they is! If you drop on the ground and hold yer breath, you’s fine. Just never run away from one,” your old Pa said to a younger you one fine morning, while you’re out on the porch, cleaning his rifle, as he rocked on the creaky chair. “And then there’s alligators, who’s cleverer… Yer old Pa has a few scars with a bunch o’ stories along, uhum. Those ones will test yer body—have you runnin’ from side to side, jumpin’ on trees and all that good stuff. Thing is, ya can live from an encounter. Butcha won’t be runnin’ from the third one, I’ll tell ya. Ah, better yet... Heh, let time teach ya this lesson.”

And it did. For now, the third creature, the deadliest of all, was staring right back at you, its eyes reflecting a darkness you had never known.

It felt like ages had gone by when Linde broke the intense eye contact to march away from the troubles he created, a sigh of relief exiting your lungs as he did so. O’Shea remained silent after the entire ordeal. Still having to reclaim your freedom from Morgan, you watched her kick one of the record’s pieces and wander in circles inside her tent, finally resorting to sitting on her shared cot and burying her face in her hands.

“Grimshaw’s in need of more hands to clean them rifles,” Arthur finally said, oddly softly, as if he spoke with a child. Though you’d never heard him talk to Jack like that before. “Go on, then, girl.”

To say you were willing to risk your position in the gang to go running toward the weeping woman was an understatement. You were willing to risk your life, even! But… then what? You grew up around the silence of the woods, the teachings of your father that only served for hunting, and the bloodshed of innocent creatures — gallons after gallons of blood. Trivial aspects of life, like comforting one another or curling your lips around sweet words, were beyond your reach. So what if you ran toward her? So what if you took her freckled face out of her hands into your roughened ones? Could you muster the correct words to soothe her ache?

Thus, for a second time, you followed Morgan’s advice and stomped your way toward Susan Grimshaw and the many rifles on the table. The smell of gun oil and grease that would define your afternoon was never strong enough to erase the memory of the woman’s pale-green eyes, or how they danced nervously when she looked at her man.

✤ ✤ ✤

Tilly had come to you when the sun was setting in the plains’ horizon with a pleading look to her kind features. Her gaze would fall on the black grease coating your numb fingers, for a second thinking through on her request, but surrendering to her hidden urges.

You were to resume the laundry you left behind.

“’Course, anythin’,” you mumbled when wiping the sweat of your forehead with your wrist.

Your legs took you close to where the damned laundry basket was, curiously outside Dutch and O’Shea’s tent. You swallowed dryly, and without realizing it, you were tiptoeing toward the flaps-down tent.

For the first time since you joined the outlaws, an obnoxiously loud opera wasn’t resounding from the infamous gramophone. In fact, nothing was sounding from within—not even the muffled whimpers of a heartbroken and awfully tired woman. But it was the glow of a lamp seeping under the tarp that kept you on edge, enticing you to approach and press a curious eye to a single hole in the fabric separating you from…

…no one.

The stage for the early, rather disturbing event was lacking its main protagonists—whether for the worst or the better. You knew the leader had fled camp to trail trouble in some corner of the heartlands. Now, the whereabouts of the red-haired lady were truly unknown.

You knew how to look for tracks, traces of wandering life, and you did your best to find those in her tent, snooping through her belongings with a special focus on her clothes poking out of her bag and how flowery they all smelled… yes, all of them. Nevertheless, your time spent rummaging through her trinkets and personal items gave not a single clue about where she could be hiding.

For the bleak moment in hands, you found yourself fond of a golden necklace you’d seen around her neck that morning, the very same one with the oval red stone that hung tantalizingly near her freckled bosoms, calling curious eyes to ogle. Without much ceremony, you swooped the necklace into the old pouch strapped around your waist and headed north, toward the riverbank.

Arriving near the flowing stream, which served that night as a mirror for the stars above, you set the wash tubs, basket, an oil lamp, and your numb behind on the gravel, mentally preparing yourself for the pile of worn undergarments before you. You cussed under your breath; your fingers ached, and your hands bore light scars from the week of rough washing. The weight of leaving Pa’s shack to pursue what had become a living hell felt tenfold heavier upon your shoulders. Your posture sagged, you sighed, and you felt as though the cries of distant coyotes were the ones your lips wouldn’t dare utter, but were tempted to.

Your hands reached for the necklace again, bringing it before the faint glow of the crescent moon and the lamp you had brought along. You watched the gold chain dance between your fingers, the red stone resting in your palm, passing on the warmth you needed at that instant. And how odd it was that upon bringing it to your lips, you could hear its owner’s voice engulfing the open space around you.

“I bought it back in Galway while waitin’ to board the ship to America. An old gentleman was selling his families remainin’ heirlooms to pay for his daughter’s treatment. I thought it was in good condition, so I bought it.”

“Mhmm,” you replied, half-lidded eyes following the hypnotic dance you forced the necklace to make. From side to side, front and back.

“It’s true,” O’Shea’s voice resurfaced from somewhere, carrying frustration at your indifference. “That purchase was the best, and single good choice I made in my entire life. Needless to say, I want it back.”

The third time you heard that outlandish accent, it began to dawn on you that perhaps it wasn’t just a figment of your imagination driven by the guilt of stealing the woman’s necklace, but rather her real presence nearby. You whipped your head over your shoulder and saw a very real O’Shea leaning against a tree, a cigarette nestled between her fingers. Just how had you not seen her before was beyond your mortal comprehension, but there she was, enshrouded in a thick curtain of mystery.

“What’s your name, hm? I don’t believe even he knows your name.” You weren’t sure if by ‘he’ she meant Dutch or God himself… both options couldn’t be far from the truth.

“It’s… It’s…”

“I saw you earlier today,” she interrupted, saving you from the struggle of letting your name roll off your tongue, which on normal days was as easy as breathing. But the woman seemed too engrossed in her own battles to notice the unpleasantry. She then took a long drag from her cigarette and placed a supporting arm over her stomach. “What would’ve you done if Arthur hadn’t stopped you?”

Long gone were the days of washing, you thought to yourself. It was high time to seek after what truly mattered to a low-life like you. So, taking the rickety lamp, you set sail over to where she was standing, letting the crickets and hoots fill the night air while ideas blossomed in your mind. One of them was stopping just an arm’s length from her and motioning for the cigarette in her hold. You proudly watched as she guided the tobacco-filled roll to your lips, and soon enough, felt the bitter smoke fill your lungs.

“No good, that’s for sure,” you replied huskily.

“Well, I must know. Should’ve I been the object of your anger, that is.”

“I would make him learn and remember my name for centuries to come. Not the other way around.”

The shadow your body casted over O’Shea’s was not enough to hide the raise of her eyebrows, like she wanted to believe it did. Had you just then impressed or utterly disappointed her continued a mystery, for she took on the duty of raising her walls even higher — a delectable challenge for you to indulge in.

“Hmph,” she shrugged lightly, busying herself with extinguishing her cigarette. It wasn’t until her perfectly pointy nose was breathing hot air against your exposed clavicle that you saw fit to place an arm on the tree above her head, in an effort to stop leaning onto her petite self. Though she didn’t seem to mind at all once she continued, “Can’t say gracing him with the knowledge of your name would be a good offensive. Other than terribly tamed, is quite… unfair, no?”

“Right,” you chuckled, taking a deep breath in anticipation of what was about to happen. First, you took the same hand that held the cigarette — soft to the touch, as you’d imagined — and placed the valuable necklace in it. Once your gaze returned to hers, your name slipped past your lips without further hesitation.

“Right,” she echoed, her tongue sliding across her bottom lip as she watched you step back, providing more space between your bodies. Suddenly, the cold air was unbearable to the Irishwoman. “You, erm…. You don’t have to meddle in mine and Dutch’s affairs anymore. I’m sure one day we’ll be back to normal again, and all shall be fine. I’m tempted, even, to say you shouldn’t have interfered in the first place.”

A chuckle paved the path for your tease, “I see a perfectly normal woman standin’ before me.”

“I bet me honor if somebody were to demand you to point at Molly, you wouldn’t know it is I, sweetheart.”

“Aha! That’s ‘cause I’d never raise a finger at yo’self! Now, if we’re talking about the high-and-mighty Dutch —"

"He loves me!" Molly yelled, her fists curling defensively in front of her torso. To you, this seemed like a stance ready to strike or flee. But instead of running, as her posture suggested, she marched toward you and used her fists to shove you. Though not hard enough to make you fall, you stumbled backward, feeling the pain her hands inflicted on your chest soon after. "You have no idea how I crossed the Atlantic for him, how I left everything in Ireland to follow him. I’ve shed who I was, who I could even become, just to fit here with him. Go ahead, join the others as they laugh at the fool I am! Surely that's what they’re all doin' now!”

Her body trembled like the tiny flame inside the lamp swaying in your hands. Just as you had once wished as a child, you wanted to reach out and touch it, despite all the evident warning signs. You remembered watching Pa extinguish a candle with his thumb and index finger while you soothed your own burned fingers. Back then, you attributed that ability, and that alone, to men — to control fire — and how you envied them to have touched what you could only dream of.

Luckily, the world seemed on your side for once when a distinguishable crunch sounded beneath your boot. You looked down to find the necklace which had been sacrificed during her outburst. Before she took notice of it, you snatched and carefully placed in her hold again, oddly welcoming. “Indeed, buyin’ this necklace is worth the title you gave it,” was your final comment on the matter, a prolonged silence being the deserving answer. “Well,” you sighed, “why don’t ya stop by my tent one of these days while you wait to become normal again? I ain’t got much to offer, but…”

“What, am I supposed to greet Tilly on me way in? Isn’t she the one you share your tent with?”

It wasn’t coarse or unpleasant in the least. The comment was, by all means, very ‘Molly’, and was met with nothing except an affectioned smile.

“Yer sayin’ the offer interested the likes of ya?”

O’Shea’s eyes wandered over the plain’s surroundings, blinking at every tree as if they were her audience, darting from the starry sky to the plain river behind you. She wasn’t pondering the question, no; she was grounding herself. When her gaze returned to you, her gentle green eyes flickered slightly, a maddened waltz not from fear of you but from the turmoil within her. You could only watch as she reached a personal conclusion, her nostrils flaring as she took a determined gulp of breath.

“What I am saying is mine’s far less crowded.”

✤

Much like a drunk bastard forced to go a minute without a drop of alcohol, you found yourself weak in the minutes it took to wash your face in the communal bucket of water and change into something less worn out. Your mind had come to terms with “Molly” being the only name that mattered, and from the vast knowledge about nature and hunting that once occupied your thoughts, now, nothing outside the realm of 'her' held any importance. Obviously, the feeble state of your mind was kept a secret as you marched towards Molly’s tent. The strength with which your boots left several holes in the patch of grass made most onlookers think a fight was brewing.

But all that energy died out once you stopped by the quiet tent.

What if it was a trap? Your primal instincts questioned as you crossed your arms and bit your bottom lip. What if Dutch were standing behind those closed flaps, his 5'11" frame proud and undoubtedly satisfied with his recent catch?

You began to taste blood.

Oh, but what if she was alone, after all? What if you came all this way, bent over backwards, only to be denied what you've been craving? Would you bite the bullet or would you die with it lodged in your head?

The inner dispute, loudly resonating across every corner of your mind, left almost no space for the muffled voice coming from within the tent.

“Didn’t take you for a quitter,” Molly said, her tone mirroring the one in your head — ardently desperate. Surely, the big shadow your body cast over the white canvas gave away your presence, not to mention the questions of several gang members about your incessant pacing, for she quickly continued, making it clear she was speaking to you, “Call me old-fashioned, but whatever you came here to do, you must to do facing me. Otherwise, be on your way.”

“Damn, you seem set on the idea that folks laughin’ at ya. Hell, do ya think I’m too? ‘Cause if so…”

“I can guarantee the only ting I’ve got me mind set on is that I don’t want to be lonely any longer than I’ve been.”

“Why, ain’t that…” you began, yet much like the chaos previously flooding your head, it watered down into pure hollowness. The sadness inflicted through her words carving unbearable holes in your insides. “I’m heading in.”

For once, the cluttered interior with its woodsy scent and Linde’s riches on display did not capture your attention. Instead, it was O'Shea who was quietly sitting on a stool, her back turned to you, holding a small pocket mirror angled to reflect your entire figure as you entered.

It took you a moment to fully take in her appearance: her delicate frame clad only in white undergarments, her hair braided to the side to showcase the golden necklace resting around her neck, and her bare shoulders rising and falling with the slow, hypnotic rhythm of her breathing.

The steps you took towards her had caused cracks from the loose floorboards, but even then, even if a gunshot sounded from within the tent, you wouldn’t have taken your eyes off the figure before you.

“For your information,” she began with a tilt in her tone, “he never hurt me. Physically, that is. He never made me regret me choices, either. I love him. I painstakingly love him; with all my heart, in every breath I take.”

Sacrificing your knees, you leveled your face with the back of her head, fingers aching to touch the crook of her neck and her soft hair but instead choosing to play along with her game. “That sounds like a big ordeal.”

Once again, she used her mirror to gaze at you, but you could only see her parted, red lips reflected in the tiny surface. You watched them exhale a shaky breath, if not for the sudden lack of oxygen felt inside the tent. “That it is.”

“Then you must be tired of lovin’ too much and receivin’ nothin’ in return...”

Whether it was from the drunken haze her scent indulged you in, or from the deep-seated urge in your heart to make her forget about Dutch, you wasted no further time and pressed your lips to her bare back, prompting a short melody to slip past her lips. Her skin, as expected, was on fire, as if each freckle was an ember in the bonfire that Molly O’Shea has become. And of course, it drove you crazy, urging you to plant more kisses across the small region until she graced you with a proper answer.

“Tired? I — Ah — am nothin’ of the kind. All this lovin’, all this sacrifice will eventually pay off.”

You grinned against her skin, teasing a small area with the tip of your tongue and finishing with a light bite. “You know, lovin’ someone shouldn’t involve sacrifice. You're puttin’ in overtime, honey. Maybe it's time to find some shade under someone else's tree,” you rasped out.

The pocket mirror shook, and in the exact second your eyes poked out from behind her shoulder you saw a glimpse of her closed eyes, “What do you suggest, then?”

“I think the woman ‘fore me was promised many things already, hm?”

“It pains me to say this,” Molly mumbled with a single nod, dropping the mirror to reach out for your compliant hands, intertwining them with hers in front of her. “But you do know me so well.”

Never before had you tasked your lips with such a delicate mission as trailing kisses from her shoulder to her neck. It was a challenging endeavor, especially since with each touch, the Irishwoman would gasp and lean further back into you, igniting the flames of what had once been an innocent and rather controlled fire between the two of you. When you reached her ear and playfully bit her earlobe, she had surrendered completely — squirming, moaning, and despite her efforts, unable to conceal the squeezing of her thighs from your hungry gaze. And you ventured to the edge of boundaries, indulging in the pleasure of sliding the straps of her nightgown down, unaware that gravity would reveal more than just the skin of her shoulders.

As for Molly, she loved how the realization that her breasts were bare had you scrambling to your feet and circling her body. Finally, driving someone crazy wasn’t met with dire consequences; instead, it brought a familiar blush to her cheeks and made the remaining clothes draped over her curves feel too tight.

“Damn me,” you choked as you sunk to your knees again, throat bobbing several times with the moans you successfully strangled.

O’Shea smiled for the first time before your eyes, leaning forward just to tease what had your mouth rapidly watering. “Someone definitely will, sweetheart. Perhaps even God himself. But I honestly couldn’t give a bleedin’ damn.”

“And to me? What’ll you give?”

Her hands suddenly flew to your hair, fingers getting tangled in the mess of knots, adding to the delicious pain as she pulled them against the roots. Soon, you understood her message and leveled your face with hers, closing any distance as she pressed her lips to yours, inviting your body closer with the opening of her legs. When her lips parted between kisses, not for air like you had thought, she blurted her answer…

“Everything.”

You had no exact answer, but you figured that the second you began flicking her nipples, to outright tugging on them, Molly had to internally scream at each of her bones to support the weight of her flesh as it seemed to feel tenfold heavier. Needless to say, the second your mouth left hers to envelop one of her hardened nubs, the woman couldn't hold her tongue any longer. A loud moan tore itself from her throat, echoing throughout the room. The sensation was overwhelming, causing every nerve ending in her body to spark alive with pleasure. The grip she had on your hair tightened, pulling slightly as if trying to force your head down even further onto her nipple.

Feeling emboldened by Molly's pleas, you slowly ventured your fingers downward, past the hem of her nightgown. Your fingertips brushed against the delicate fabric, teasing her further before finally dipping below into the wet mess she had been housing between her legs. Your fingers slid easily through her slick folds, the warmth and wetness enveloping them almost immediately. Molly's breath hitched, her body stiffening beneath yours as you explored her most intimate area. Her inner walls clenched around nothing, desperately seeking something — someone — to fill them.

You could practically hear the desperation in Molly's ragged breaths, her body writhing beneath yours as you continued to tease her clit with your fingers. “You're makin’ me crazy,” you gasped, though the swell of her breasts, which your face had been wantonly buried in, muffled each of your words. Regardless, every brush of your fingers against her sensitive clit sent shocks of pleasure coursing through her body, causing her to buck and writhe beneath you. The feeling, you came to understand, was more than mutual.

“You’re wasting your breath on something useless as words,” was all Molly managed to get out. Her hips jerked upwards involuntarily, seeking friction from your wandering hand.

Taking advantage of her exposed position, you shifted down, trailing kisses along the valley between her breasts, to her stomach, down to her mound. With deliberate slowness, you replaced your fingers with your mouth, swirling your tongue over her swollen clit.

Molly's reaction was immediate and visceral. Her hands sought support at the edge of her stool, her knuckles turning white.

Your tongue worked tirelessly over her clit, lapping at the throbbing bundle of nerves with relentless determination, releasing sinful sounds into the warm air. With each flick and suckle, Molly’s breathing grew heavier, her moans louder. Then, without warning, her entire world narrowed down to the point where your mouth was touching her. Every worry, every heartache seemed to fade into the background, allowing her the rare moment to exist outside of thoughts about Dutch, her family back in Ireland, and the love she had longed to experience. Her back arched off the stool, her core clenching and releasing in rhythmic spasms as she came hard. And hard she came.

You couldn't control yourself either. The same whirlwind that had clearly swept through the Irishwoman had also affected you, though the chaos it caused within you wasn't as visibly exposed as it was on her. In other words, even the sweat coating her freckled skin deserved your appreciation, as it added a glow to the already god-like figure looking down upon you with something akin to adoration.

“Will you stay the night?” Molly purred tiredly as you took on the duty of securing her weakened body into her shared cot. Your eyes glimmered with lust as she wrapped her arms around your neck, planting open-mouthed kisses on your skin. Alas, even that seemed to wear her down completely. Gently, you laid her bare body down on the cot, unable to resist giving her one last kiss, though you kept it brief.

“Ah, don’t go playing games now,” she chuckled upon seeing you fix your clothing and ready yourself to leave. “Stay.”

“I’m gonna take ya outta this sorry life…”

“Mhmm.”

It was your turn to chuckle at the utter beauty of her sleepy face. “I’ll try with all my might to give Molly O’Shea the life she deserves.”

Her face suddenly grew grim, though her tiredness limited the severity of the grimace she meant to flash you. “Promises…” she breathed out, her eyelids growing heavier. “Promises,” she murmured before surrendering to the strong force pulling her into the depths of slumber, but not before a final, “promises,” slipped past her lipstick-smudged lips.

On the nightstand beside the now-sleeping figure, along with an oil lamp, was a forgotten glass of whiskey with a residual liquid resting at the bottom. There were no traces of red lipstick on its round edges, so you figured, as you brought the glass closer to your face, that it belonged to Van der Linde. Not that it gave you any pleasure or — God forbid — played into any fantasy you might’ve had for him, but taking the glass to your lips, feeling the bitter liquid burn down your throat, and later placing it back next to Molly’s spent figure felt like fulfilling a duty.

With that in mind, you tucked the woman in, giving her forehead one last kiss before making your way out.

The camp, much to your relief, was still buzzing with life. No one seemed to have any idea of what had transpired inside the tent, including the newcomers who had just arrived.

Yes.

Just as you stepped outside the tent, Dutch and four other men rode into camp on their horses. Some people welcomed them, while others, like you, stood their ground. It was dangerous, and you knew it: standing there in the predator’s den, bearing nothing but a victorious smile on your weary face as he made his way to his resting place. But old Pa didn’t know — and how could he? — that the deadliest creature was, in fact, an easy kill.

Only, it wouldn’t take a bullet or an arrow.

It would take some cunning and the golden necklace tangled around your fingers.

[venusdere]

Yandere Kakashi Fluffy nsfw hcs

CW: , body worship, breeding kink, sexual content, praise, dirty talk ig but it’s nice? Kakashi is touch starved, unprotected sex, breeding kink is mentioned, didn't rly emphasize on the soft yandere part but eh he's just obsessed with reader in this

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Kakashi hated going on long missions. He used to look forward to them when he had nobody, but now that you’re patiently waiting for him in your shared apartment all he cared about was being with you. Unfortunately for him, he’s the copy-nin who’s mastered over a thousand jutsus. Kakashi doesn’t get much time off because of his reputation and skills. He’d been sent out on a month-long assassination mission by Hiruzen. Kakashi promised you that he would try to be back within three weeks, but ultimately he can't help how much time it would take. He always rushes his missions, his record time is a month long mission within one week.

Sadly for him, he made it back in a month and a half. It really wasn't fair. Kakashi deserved to be with his sweet darling, cuddled in between your thighs as he read Icha Icha, yet he had to be on a difficult mission where he almost died on three different occasions.

The second Kakashi gets back home in the safety of your shared apartment, he's already taking off pieces of his clothing, he didn't want to waste a second, really it's a compliment to you. You're so addicting to him that every second matters.

He'd call out your name and wait for your response. The second he heard your voice coming from the bedroom he smirked, he made a beeline for the room. He saw you getting up, assuming you were going to greet him, but he immediately shoved you back on the bed and climbed on top of you. You could feel his hard-on through his underwear as he slowly grinded against you. His forehead touched yours, and he mumbled out "I missed you baby," before passionately kissing you. His hands roaming your body and he'd try to cover you up with his body as much as possible.

He just loves to feel like he can protect you okay? Please don't try to get on top when he's like this. He's doing this more for himself, he NEEDS to keep his sweet little baby safe, and he'll make sure you know, "It's okay baby, I'm back. You don't have to worry about a thing, let me take care of you okay?"

Just a few other things that he would say while exploring your body:

"I missed you so much my baby, miss that gorgeous face of yours."

"I can't believe that you're all mine, you're too ethereal to be real."

"Baby, I need to feel you around me right now, please, I fucking need this divine pussy around my cock."

Kakashi would kiss every part of your neck, sucking on certain areas before moving over to the next. He loves leaving hickeys on you since no one else would see them. His fingers would be all over your breast, gently massaging them while still grinding his hard on into you.

At this point he'd rip off your clothes, they're in the way and he's tired of not feeling your skin around him. five weeks without you makes Kakashi desperate for any sort of skin contact (He already craves it just by having you around).

Kakashi would eat you out after marking your body. He needs to remind you that he's the only person who can make you feel so pleasured. He's an extremely observant man so you rarely have to tell him what you want. He quickly figured that out on his own.

He would say things like "I can tell you missed me, doll, you're absolutely soaked. Such a good girl for me."

"I missed your taste, I promise I'll devour your cunt every night I'm here to make up for it."

He wouldn't let you cum yet, oh no, he wants to come together since he thinks it's much more intimate. He'd keep on eating you out until he knew you would be ready to take his cock with comfort and ease. Both your pleasure and his are of equal priority to Kakashi.

He won't stop eating you out until you're begging him to absolutely ravage your pussy, and when he does he makes his way back up to your face by leaving a trail of soft kisses on your body. He truly knows how to make you feel loved and adored in these moments. He'd put his forehead against yours and lines up his hard, throbbing cock against your soaked cunt, asking if you were ready. He knows you are, Kakashi just wants to hear one last "Please just fuck me, Kashi..." before he thrust into you.

"So perfect, my perfect baby..."

"Did you miss my cock? Tell me who makes you feel this way, Y/N."

"You're taking me so well, doll. That's my girl, my good girl."

Every time he calls you his good girl, he adds emphasis by pounding into you harder than usual. He's extremely vocal when he's been gone, Kakashi adores the effect it has on you.

Overall he's extremely passionate, giving you quick kisses but pulling away to hear your wonderful moans, whispering sweet nothings into your ears, a string of "I-love-you's" coming out of his mouth often, slowing down the pace to soak in the beautiful sight he feels he's been blessed with.

He has his hands roaming around your body again, but they're usually holding your face as his arms rest besides your head. Again, he loves the feeling of protecting you, especially during sex. It makes him go absolutely feral.

SPEAKING OF FERAL, Kakashi doesn't usually think about having kids, but seeing his sweet princess under him in her most pleasured stated gives him thoughts about it. Maybe it wouldn't be that bad? He's always wanted to cum inside of you... And what better way to make you his than by cumming inside?

[shintorikhazumi]

How To Grow A Family Tree|Chapter 1: Plant A Little Seed Called Love

A/N: Ooh~ My second genshin fic. Please don’t sue me for the bad writing ;-; I just wanna brainrot, yknow? 

I must be an idiot for writing a new fic. I’ll get back to Teyvat sad girls in a bit.

AU where almost everyone’s family who passed in canon is alive. Except Sara’s biological fam. Sorry bby. Oh and maybe Ei’s parents cause who are they. Basically Sara meets the (future) in-laws. Kinda mixed modern fantasy (because they keep their non human traits) stuff ig.

This one’ll be eimikosara yeet~

Enjoy?

~Shintori Khazumi

 Chapter 1: Plant A Little Seed Called Love

Sara had never known love.

No, not when she’d been orphaned at an age where she barely remembered a thing. Not when she’d been taken in, only to be constantly shut out of a ‘family’ that could not make it any clearer that they wanted nothing to do with her unless it was to turn her into their profit-earning horse.

When she’d been given a name, she almost thought she’d know love; but even that was a misconception on her part.

Sara did not know love. Not when her father seemed to take pleasure in the constant ‘discipline’ he dished out on her: small slaps on the wrists, kneeling for hours on grainy sand from sunrise ‘til nightfall, shoveling snow, chopping wood, learning all forms of martial arts for hours on end before coming home to study until her candles were all out of wax, leading to her sleeping on the thin mat with equally thin blankets keeping her alive throughout the night.

No, she knew not love. Not when her brothers had spared her no moment of attention, affection, or siblingship. Not when Masahito forbade her from ever using the dojo while he was around and never speaking a word to her ever. Not when Kamaji hadn’t even invited her to his own wedding. Sara was fifteen, for crying out loud, and they had been living in the same house at the time!

(She remembered sobbing silently to herself as she spent the night of the supposed reception alone, poring over high school examination results that her father deemed not good enough and were up for review.)

She knew not love when she noticed them walking in on one of her ‘penalty sessions’ with her father, and felt her heart shatter into shards that tore at her from within when they turned a blind eye and walked away, closing the door behind them.

 Kujou Sara had not known love.

At least not until she’d been adopted into her best friend’s home at seventeen, Ayaka no longer being able to stomach the stories Sara would unwittingly share when she was too tired out to evade Ayaka’s very leading line of questions from time to time. That and Ayaka had caught Sara in a nightmare once, and from what Yoimiya had later told her, the little heiress had turned restless for many a night thinking about Sara’s predicament. She had searched countless ways and tried numerous methods of convincing until her parents finally saw for themselves and agreed that it was too dangerous for Sara to be left in that house.

The Kamisato family had always been disgusted by the Kujous, so much so that they had initially not wanted Ayaka anywhere near the youngest daughter of the clan, even shunning Sara from their door the first time Ayaka had invited her over despite being known as a welcoming and nonjudgmental family.

It could have been an overreaction, but it was just that difficult to give Kujou Takayuki and any of his kin the benefit of the doubt.

But then Ayaka begged and pleaded, and a toothy-grinned Yoimiya tried to bribe them with custom fireworks, and surprisingly, even Thoma quietly requested Ayato and the Kamisato parents to give Sara a chance to just come in, sit with them and… be.

 They should have not been able to trust a Kujou.

But Kujou Sara… she was sweet, and lovely, and an awkward, clumsy little thing. She was overly courteous, spoke stiffly like a soldier, but was clearly very kind. Earnest and genuine, Ayaka knew her parents had fallen in love (if Sara eating at their house three times a week despite the Kujou clan’s known strictness was any indicator. Ayaka did not know how her parents got permission to whisk Sara away, though she was glad they did).

So when Sara showed up at their doorstep at half-past three in the morning, battered and bruised, the skin over her eye bloodied shut; when they had discovered the surprising treasure that was Sara’s heritage, cruelly marred, tattered, and tainted- Ayaka and Miss Kamisato had shed tears at the state of her supposedly majestic wings- the family knew enough was enough.

It took all of Thoma’s power to rip the sword out of Ayato’s clenched hands before the men of the house rushed for the police station to have the Kujou’s apprehended and possibly sentenced to long, long years in hell.

 Her adoption was surprisingly quick, and without much problem, possibly due to the large influence of the Kamisatos in general.

A few hiccups were met on the road, but then… finally, then. Sara knew love.

She knew love the moment she woke up past her usual hellish five-AM wake up call to her new sister who greeted her good morning from the opposite end of their now-shared room, who brushed her crazy morning bedhead before handing her a fluffy pair of slippers, gently taking her by the hand and leading her down the stairs for breakfast.

Kamisato Kayo had once more cried for the child Sara could not be as she tried to tell the girl that it was okay for her to eat at the table with everyone, at the same time, just as they always did when Sara came over for dinners. No, she did not have to ‘serve’ them their meals and wait for them to finish first. No, she was not ‘unworthy’ of seating at the ‘master’s table’.

She tried not to let the young tengu see her tears when she’d been told that her favorite breakfast food was onigiri, and nothing could compare. Well, because she had nothing to compare it to.

Thoma and Kayo had prepared her so many items that morning that Ayaka had complained for Sara that she would get bloated if they kept piling more food onto the overwhelmed girl’s plate.

Yes. Sara knew love when breakfast was mixed with warm miso soup and a mother’s affection.

Sara knew love when each time she’d have to head out to anywhere with Ayaka or Thoma, someone would bid her farewell by the door. When it was Mrs. Kami- her mother (Sara had to get used to that), she’d always be sent off with a lingering hug and a kiss to the forehead for safety.

She always did feel the effect was true, believing it even more every time she was able to return to that warmth unscathed.

 Sara knew love when she finally returned to school and heard no whispers nor rumors about her despite the obvious public trial her formed adoptive father had for more crimes than the ones committed against her.

Maybe it was because someone had kept people’s mouths shut around her, or everything was simply drowned out by the sunshine of Yoimiya’s presence as she tackled her and welcomed her back before taking her to morning archery practice.

 Sara knew love when she finally mustered up the courage to befriend the clever Miss Kuki from her class after much encouragement from Yoimiya and Ayaka. Sara had grown up with an appreciation for dioramas, and how perfect the world in them seemed to be compared to her own shabby and grey one.

When Miss Kuki had brought one such well-crafted piece for a school event, Sara had yearned to befriend her and have her teach a thing or two.

With time and much-needed help, Sara managed to strike up a conversation with the shorter girl, who, by their next meeting, had given Sara a package the size of a shoebox.

Upon opening it, Sara had bolted toward the restrooms, gift caught by the giver, and worry on all her friends’ faces. They had given chase and found her crying in a stall, muttering apologies and thank you’s.

“M-m-my s-sincerest apologies, Miss K-Kuki… I was just a little… overwhelmed.”

Her friends collectively heaved sighs of relief as they waited for her to calm down before returning to the classroom to appreciate the gorgeous diorama of one beautiful crow in the prettiest Sakura garden Sara had never visited. (Shinobu claimed it existed and would take her there someday if she wanted.)

 Sara knew love when she came home and shakily showed her new parents her imperfect test results: a ninety-eight, and got the firmest hug and many, many kisses on the head for it. She was called brilliant, a good child.

“Thank you for working so hard, Sara. We love you.”

Sara cried for the love she got to know.

 A/N: There will be chapter 2 because SARA WILL HAVE A BIG BIG FAMILY, JUST WATCH ME. YES. I’M BITTER ABOUT KAMAJI. NO LOOK, I’M ALL FOR KUJOU SIBLING FLUFF AND SOLIDARITY, and I was super hopeful during Ei’s story quest when we met kamaji. But the times he talked about the “Kujou family” he only kept mentioning his dad or masahito, and never Sara. Like…??? Hello? :<

I’ll probably make a sweeter Kujou fam story in the future.

Ciao for now~

~Shintori Khazumi

[yelena-bellova]

Instinct: Din Djarin x Reader - Chapter Three

Chapter Three: Unexplainable

Series Masterlist

Plot: Mando and Y/n run into unexpected complications when trying to leave Arvala-7.

Warnings: violence, enemies to slightly tolerable partners, more backstory teasing, the slowest of slow burns continued 🔥

Word Count: 6.0k

A/N: I’m not used to writing slow burn and even as a writer I’m frustrated. Like I’m having to hold back and tell myself “not yet...” I’m just not built for this shit 🙈 Anyways, enjoy! I’ll be sitting in the corner in fetal position trying to recover from this week’s episode...

————

Silence seemed to be the founding principle of mine and Mando’s partnership. Not a word had been spoken between us since we’d killed the IG unit and taken the child. I hadn’t taken issue with the absence of words exchanged before our discovery, but now I had questions and wanted to know if he was asking himself the same ones.

“Do you have any idea what Imps would want with a child?” I finally asked during our walk back through the valleys. 

“No,” he answered flatly, I could tell by his tone that he didn’t want there to be any further conversation. He’d ended his singular acknowledgement of my presence with a razor sharp period. Talking time was effectively over.

We continued our walk back to the ship with the only noise being the squishing of our boots in the mud. It was then that I realized even the harmless lizards that had been wandering the path with us had gone quiet. Mando and I both stopped in our tracks and looked around our general vicinity, my hands hovering my weapons just waiting… 

Quicker than I could anticipate, a Trandoshan leapt out from behind a rock and swung a vibro-axe. Mando and I ducked out of the way just in time, he made a point of kicking the pod that contained the child out of harm’s way. The Trandoshan went after Mando before he did me which was his first mistake. While Mando fended him off using his own armor, I came up on our attacker from behind. Slipping my vibroblade out of my gauntlet, I reached around his neck and slit his throat. On cue, two more Trandoshans jumped down from the rocks. Mando pulled out his pulse rifle and started fighting one off while I dodged the other. As far as weapons went, I was outmatched. But skill? No one could top me.

After narrowly dodging a swing of the axe, I dropped down quickly and made a slice in the Trandoshan’s calf. He let out a pained cry just before I made an identical cut in his other leg. Popping back up to my full height, I slammed my head into his and watched him struggle to keep his balance. Reaching one of my holsters, I pulled out my blaster and shot him through the chest. I turned to see Mando aiming his pulse rifle at the attacker who was running toward the child. He fired a shot and the Trandoshan exploded before my eyes. Both of us looked around to make sure there were no more coming, a familiar beeping sound turned my attention to the ground. 

A tracking fob.

“Does everyone have one of these things?” I commented, holstering my blaster and sheathing my blade.

“Guess so,” answered Mando as he crushed the device under his boot, “We’re not going to make it back to the Crest before nightfall. We’ll set up camp somewhere when the suns begin to set.” ————

Another thing I discovered quickly about the Mandalorian: he was the stubbornest being I’d ever had the displeasure of meeting.

We were sitting atop one of the hills with the suns setting in the distance. Our camp wasn’t much, it was a lantern and the three of us. I was finishing a ration bar listening to the stifled groans of my partner as he cauterized a wound he’d gotten during the fight. We were on the third minute of the self preformed medical procedure and I wasn’t sure if I could take any more of the sounds.

“I’ve got a medpack on me, bacta and stitch supplies. It’ll hurt less than the mutilation you’re doing to yourself,” I nodded towards the reddened wound site.

“I’m fine,” he gritted out, continuing the cauterizing and trying to bite back his cries of pain.

A dry chuckle tumbled from my lips, “Are you that difficult that just cause you don’t like me you’re going to inflict more pain on yourself than necessary?”

Ceasing his actions, he turned to me quickly. “I don’t need your help,” he barked, staring me down and trying to intimidate me to look away first. 

I wasn’t backing down as I twisted my body to face him. “You really are an asshole, aren’t you? Offer’s revoked, buddy. Get infected and die for all I care. It’ll mean a bigger bounty for me.”

After my last sentence had ended, Mando unsheathed the vibroblade strapped to his leg and rolled towards me. Just as fast, I pulled out my own and the knifes clashed. Mando was hanging over me and had pulled my free arm up over my head before I’d known what was happening. With his beskar armor, overpowering him would be more difficult but not impossible. I kneed him hard in the groin and he let out a sharp cry, I shifted my weight to roll him on his back and straddled his waist. Mando pushed harder against my blade till my grip weakened and it flew out of my hand. I wriggled my wrist out of his grasp and took hold of both his, slamming them above his head as he’d done to me. After a few seconds of struggling against one another, he managed to get the upper hand once again. He rolled both of us so that he once again hovered over me, his helmet so close to my face that if I breathed on it the visor would fog. My legs were still locked around his waist as we grappled against each other, grunts and groans escaping both of us. Had it been anyone else, I’d have made a suggestive joke about the position we were in. But not him, not for all the credits in the galaxy…

Mando had dropped his knife at some point during the skirmish, the only weapon we had now was our respective hatred of one another. The strange thing was that neither of us were fighting to kill. It felt more like trying to assert dominance over the other. I fought against the grip he’d somehow regained around my wrists, eventually freeing one of them and landing a punch against his unprotected chest. He let out an ‘oof’ and I used the element of surprise to my advantage. I punched once more before using every ounce of energy left in me to shove him off and free my body. He landed in the sand next to me on his back, both of us lay there attempting to catch our breath. A mutual concession to one anther. He was strong, I’d give him that, and as skilled a fighter as the legends had said. If he had fought to kill me, even I could admit that my chances of survival were slim.

As I lay panting, I turned my head to see the child had gotten out of its pod. It had waddled his way in between me and Mando with its eyes focused on the latter’s wounded arm. I carefully watched as it extended its hand out towards Mando’s cauterized cut, it shut its eyes as if it was in deep concentration….

Mando covered its small green palm with his own and picked it up, he walked it back to the pod and placed it in. I wiped the thin layer of sweat from my brow and pushed myself up into a sitting position. I didn’t spare the Mandalorian any glances, I simply stretched my arm out to retrieve my knife before turning my back to him.

At the sound of the child’s trills, I turned back around to see it’d escaped the pod again. Mando picked it up once more and set it back where it belonged. I watched the two of them stare at one another before Mando pressed a button on his gauntlet that shut the pod’s doors. “I’m leaving at dawn with or without you,” Mando addressed me gruffly, walking back to his designated spot in the sand and returning to repairing his armor. 

I knew that if I give an equally rude response, I’d only be starting another fight and I was too sore for round two. Swallowing every remark I wished to verbally slap him with, I removed my jacket and bunched it up into a makeshift pillow. I laid my head on top of it and turned on my side to try and get some sleep. One more day, I thought, one more day and then you’ll never have to deal with him again…

————

The next morning was tense as we made our way back to the Razor Crest. The only content member of our party was the child who babbled and cooed its way through the journey.

When we got to where Mando had parked the ship, a surprise was waiting for us. A large sandcrawler was parked next to the Razor Crest, which looked like it belonged in a junkyard rather than in the skies.

“You’ve got to be kidding me…” I muttered in frustration, “Jawas.” Mando sprung into action and kneeled down, pulse rifle in hand. After scoping out the scene, he aimed the weapon and vaporized one of the Jawas. He continued firing shots, driving them deeper into their flurry of panic. They quickly scurried back into their vehicle and began to slowly crawl away. 

“C’mon,” Mando grumbled and we took off after the thieves, the child’s pod in tow and programmed to follow. 

Mando kneeled and took another shot with the rifle that did absolutely nothing to slow them down. I kept running and he caught up quickly with me, once we were running in tandem with the vehicle, he leapt and grabbed onto a service ladder. He began to climb it and I latched onto the bars directly below his feet. As we climbed, I felt the sandcrawler drift to the side and turned my head to see that we were about to be crushed by a rockface. There was no time for both me and Mando to climb to safety so I did the first thing that came to mind and let go.

I fell the short distance to the ground and landed harshly on my back in the narrow gap between the sandcrawler’s wheels and the rockface. I rolled to my side and coughed away the dust around me before scrambling to my feet. As the child’s pod passed me, it looked back with concern etched in its small features. I started running once again and made a point of gesturing to the child that I was okay. I could see from a distance that various object were falling onto a still moving Mando, who had climbed up half the vehicle. He was walking up the side of it aided by his grappling hook, but as soon as he’d made it to the top he promptly fell. It was a much larger distance between him and the ground than the one I’d crossed and unexpected worry flooded me. I picked up my pace and dropped to my knees when I came to his body. He’d been shot with something, probably an ion blaster, because there was electricity running through his armor. I didn’t dare touch him for fear of getting shocked.

“Mando, wake up,” I prompted, knowing it would be of no use without touching him, “C’mon, wake up.” The child cooed from nearby, the same worry in its face that it’d had for me moments ago. Its ears lowered in sadness as it looked at Mando laid out.

“He’ll be okay,” I said out of nowhere, not knowing whether or not it was true, “He’ll just be out for a while.”

I decided to let the shocks through his armor die down before shaking him awake, which took several minutes. All the while I found myself concerned for the wellbeing of the man I’d wished death on the night before. The long and short of it was that if he died, I had no chance of getting off the planet and would end up being killed by another hunter with a fob. As much as I hated to admit it, I needed the Mandalorian.

Once the electricity died down, I grabbed both of his shoulders and gently shook him. “Mando, c’mon, wake up. Wake up.” He awoke slowly, the slight tilt of his head and grunt from his modulator being the only signs. I removed my hands from his body immediately and sat down in the sand next to him. 

“How long was I out?” he asked groggily.

“Twenty minutes maybe,” I answered, “They shocked you something awful, your armor was glowing blue the whole time.” “They get away?” 

I rubbed my aching back as I replied, “There wasn’t much I could do to stop them. I’m good but I’m not that good.” “Can I get it in writing that you admitted that?” Mando asked, tilting his helmet in my direction. There was a dry type of humor laced in his voice that at any other moment would have made me laugh. 

“Don’t make me regret not leaving you here to rust,” I pointed a finger towards his helmet as I rose to my feet. Contradicting my cruel words, I extended my hand to help him up which he surprisingly accepted. He stumbled a little as he stood, I was there to push him back up before he fell. We both looked over to the child whose worry for us had faded into observation.

“Let’s get back to the ship, see what damage they did,” Mando said, shaking off the supportive grasp I had on his arm.

————

They’d stripped the ship almost in its entirety. Every weapon was gone, the engines were busted, the ship was emitting sparks in every crevice and corner. 

The decision to find our way back to Kuiil’s was an easy one. Though it was an exhausting journey that took up the entire day, we didn’t have any other choice. We needed help.

When we arrived at sunset, Kuiil didn’t need to turn around to know we were in his presence. “I thought you two were dead.” “Came close,” I responded, “Now we’re just stranded.” After he brought food and drinks out, which I was in desperate need of after our day long journey, I let the child out of the pod. I wasn’t sure what it was capable of doing so I kept a careful eye on it. It didn’t seem interested in anything other than chasing a frog.

“This is what was causing all the fuss?” Kuiil asked, staring down at it.

“We think it’s a child,” Mando said, fiddling with his screwed up armor.

“It is better to deliver it alive, then,” Kuiil said as he passed us.

“My ship has been destroyed, we’re trapped here,” Mando stated.” “Stripped, not destroyed,” Kuiil corrected as he handed Mando a tool, “The Jawas steal, they don’t destroy.

“It doesn’t matter, either way we’re stuck here,” I commented, swirling around the last bit of liquid in my glass. 

“They’re protected by their crawling fortress,” Mando said, “There’s no way to recover the parts.” I smirked at the opportunity to correct him on the name of the ‘crawling fortress’ but decided to let it go. I wasn’t any happier than he was about being stranded.

“You can trade,” Kuiil suggested. “With Jawas? Are you out of your mind?” Mando asked in disbelief. “I will take you to them,” Kuiil said as he retook the tool from Mando, “I have spoken.” Mando and I shared a look as if running the plan by each other, I shrugged and downed the last of my drink. We weren’t exactly in a place where we could pick about our options. 

“Hey,” Mando barked in the child’s direction, “Spit that out.” I turned to see the child swallowing a frog whole, burping afterwards in delight. This is definitely not what I signed up for, I thought

————

We journeyed through the rainy night, me, Mando and the child in a cart pulled by Kuiil on one of the blurrgs. We arrived in the morning at the sandcrawler with Kuiil taking a more diplomatic portion and giving them a friendly greeting. 

“They really don’t like you two for some reason,” Kuiil commented.

“He disintegrated a couple of their friends,” I replied, glancing toward Mando who was seated at my side. 

“You need to drop your rifle,” Kuiil ordered.

“I’m a Mandalorian, weapons are a part of my religion,” Mando contested.

“Then you are not getting your parts back,” Kuiil stated matter-of-factly. 

I sighed in frustration, “Can they not be a part of your religion for a couple minutes? The sooner we get the parts, the sooner we get back to Nevarro and the sooner we go our separate ways.” Now that was enough to make him lay down his rifle with little hesitation. If mutual hatred was what lit a fire under him, then I was more then willing to stoke it.

Mando and I got out of the cart but before we got any further, one of the Jawas aimed their ion blaster at both of us. Kuiil looked us over and found the problem, “You both need to get rid of your blasters.” 

As easy as it was for me to ask Mando to get rid of his, I hesitated in letting my own go. Of course, this earned me a tilt of his helmeted head and a snide remark. “The sooner we get the parts, the sooner-“ “Oh, can it, rust bucket,” I mumbled as we tossed our blasters into the cart.

Kuiil gestured for us to follow him so we could negotiate with the Jawas. We took our seats across from them and Kuiil began to translate. “They will trade all the parts for the beskar.”

“I’m not going to trade anything,” Mando’s voice began to rise, “These are my parts, they stole them from me.”

I didn’t speak Jawa but I could tell by their tone that whatever they said to Mando was snippy. He tried to reply in their language but it came out broken and all they did was laugh in reply. 

“You understand this?” Mando raised his arm and flames shot forth out of one of his gauntlets, sending the Jawas diving for the ground.

“Whoa. Easy, easy…” Kuiil said calmly as he pulled Mando’s arm back. I had a feeling that nothing ever rattled the ugnaught. He continued translating between the parties. When the Jawas rose and eyed our cart, Mando and I both turned quickly. Two of them were closing in on the child.

“Get away from it!” we both yelled in perfect synchrony. They obeyed immediately but that didn’t stop me from eyeing them until they were back in front of us.

Kuiil conversed with the Jawas further until Mando managed to make out some words. “The egg? What egg?”

On cue, the Jawas began chanting the same two words over and over. Whatever egg was in question, I had a feeling that we were about to get up close and personal with it. 

————

The task was simple, or so it sounded. Mando and I were to go and retrieve the mysterious egg and in return the Jawas would give us the parts back.

As we disembarked the sandcrawler, something told me that however easy we’d been made to believe the excursion would be was not true. It didn’t matter, we needed the parts and there was no other way to get them. My and Mando’s shared desire to return to our separate lives was fueling us both to get the job done as soon as possible.

Where the Jawas had said the egg rested wasn’t terribly far from the sandcrawler. With the child’s pod behind us, we walked up to the cave where it the coveted object supposedly lay.

“Ready?” Mando asked as he adjusted his own gauntlets. 

I unholstered my blasters and nodded, “Ready.” We entered the cave with caution, it was dark and impossible to see anything. Mando turned on his flashlight mounted on the side of his helmet and illuminated our path. It didn’t take us long to figure out why my gut feeling that it would be a difficult task was right. There was a soft growl nearby that made our heads swivel around only to come face to face with a mud horn.

“Shit!” I mumbled underneath my breath and our gunfire began bouncing off the walls of the cave. No shot that hit the creature actually succeeding in hurting it, only angering it. It only took a few seconds for the mud horn to rise to its full power and headbutt us out of the cave. 

Mando and I were sent flying through the air and landed in the mud outside. Having the armor had protected him somewhat, but nothing was to there to break my fall even slightly. I was almost certain that I’d heard something crack upon impact but couldn’t worry about it. With a groan, I rose to sit alongside Mando who was also trying to collect his bearings. The mud horn came out of its cave and faced us, Mando raised his pulse rifle to fire but couldn’t get it loaded quick enough. The mud horn came charging towards us, I was able to roll away in time to not be hit. Mando wasn’t as lucky, he was violently tossed a few hundred feet back. Just as I looked up, I caught the mud horn with its eyes locked on the child’s pod. It began to charge toward it and instinct took over, I launched my whipcord forward and it wrapped around the mud horn’s horn. At the exact same second, Mando programmed the pod to move away. I was now the mud horn’s target as the whipcord detached from its horn and flew back into my gauntlet. It began to charge toward me once again, except this time I had no plan. All I could do was run. I knew I was playing a losing game, trying to outrun a creature ten times my size…I could hear the mud horn’s growl fast approaching behind me just as I slipped and went face first into the mud. After all the years spent endangering my life, capturing some of the biggest criminals in the galaxy, this was how it ended. My life taken away by a slippery patch of mud.

As I awaited to be split in two by the creature’s horn, I felt a body shield mine followed by the heat of flames. Mando. He’d jumped in to…save me? 

The mud horn leaned down and pressed his arm, and consequentially me, further into the mud pit. Mando held firm in his assault and continued to flame the beast. With his weight finally off of me, I rolled onto my back and wiped the mud from my eyes. His flamethrower jammed so he extended his other arm and launched his grappling hook at the mud horn. I grabbed his bicep to pull myself into a sitting position only to be met with our next problem. The mudhorn turned around and began to run in the opposite direction, pulling me and Mando along with it. We were dragged through the mud, sputtering and grunting the whole way. His hand found my arm as we held tight to one another. Flying through the mud with each other was the safest option, we didn’t run the risk of getting trampled.

Think, think, think of something…I thought. Doesn’t have to be great, just something that doesn’t result in immediate death. 

Without thinking, I shot my whipcord out and it attached to the mud horn. I let go of Mando’s arm and grabbed my cord, hoping that he could put together what I was trying to do. He did. We both found our footing and dug our boots into the ground, trying to slow the creature down. To no avail, the cords snapped and the two of us went rolling through the mud. I wiped the substance from my face to see Mando had landed a few feet away from me. The mudhorn was getting ready to charge again in our direction. I scrambled to my feet, unsure of what I was planning to do. I was helpless to watch as the creature rammed its horn against Mando, sending him flying through the air.

“Mando!” I yelled, running as fast as my weary legs could carry me. Why? I couldn’t say. I couldn’t stand him, wouldn’t have cared if he’d have dropped dead in the middle of the desert earlier in the day. But in that moment, the hatred that came so easily to me left my body entirely and was replaced with the unexplainable need to save him. I dropped to my knees and slid towards him in the mud, his armor crackling blue once again. 

“C’mon, get up,” I urged, gripping both of his shoulders tightly, “Get up, c’mon, we’re not done.” He didn’t verbally respond, just gave a groan as he struggled to sit up. I was so focused on helping him that I’d forgotten about my own exhaustion for a moment. I didn’t know how I was going to stand, let alone fight. Mando was able to make it onto one knee while I couldn’t find to strength to get off of both mine. He’d also had the semblance of mind to pull his vibroblade from his boot, looking to me and silently telling me to do the same. I reached for mine with a shaky hand and unsheathed it, raising it up alongside Mando’s. It was a sad last stand to take, but neither of us could go down without a fight. I scrunched my eyes shut, knowing death was imminent was enough. I didn’t need to see it charging towards me.

When the attack didn’t come, I hesitantly opened one eye. What I saw was…indescribable. 

The mud horn was levitating, roaring relentlessly, and unable to harm us.

Mando rose to his feet and extended his hand down to me, pulling me up to my unsteady feet. At the first wobble, he threw his arm around my waist to keep me upright. I needed the support, much as I hated to admit it. We got closer to the mud horn to examine what exactly was happening. The thing didn’t have wings, there was no explanation for it. Through my blurry vision, I looked around us for the child realizing that it’d escaped my mind briefly. But when my eyes found the pod, it was clear that it was the one causing the unbelievable sensation. With its eyes closed in concentration and its hand extended, it was somehow causing the mud horn to float in the air.

“Wh…What?” I whispered breathlessly.

After a few seconds, the child passed out from exhaustion and fell back in its pod. As it did, the mud horn dropped back to the ground and roared in our faces. Mando and I didn’t need to communicate to form a plan of what to do. We both rammed our knives into the side of the beast’s skull, dropping to the ground in a heap afterwards. It roared once more before falling, the impact causing Mando’s weight to collapse further onto me. His body was once again shielding me. When we heard no noise coming from the mud horn, he sat up and freed me to get a look at the creature. Pulling each other up, we slowly walked over to examine the body. I knew it was dead, but I didn’t object to Mando stabbing it once more with our knives before handing mine back to me. We stood there, catching our breath before turning to assess the child. We limped to the pod to see it twitching ever so slightly in its sleep. I had never seen anything like the act it’d performed, it had saved our lives. 

We silently watched it until Mando broke the silence, “You okay?” “I think so,” I breathed, turning my gaze to his muddy, battered self a once over, “You?”

“Fine,” he responded, the condition of his armor begged to differ, “C’mon, we still gotta get this egg.” ————

The journey back took longer than our departure, what with us having the combined strength of a child. And definitely not the child we had trailing behind us…

“Mando! Y/n!” Kuiil cried as he saw us coming towards him. “We’ve got it,” Mando announced, the tire in his voice was audible, “We’ve got the egg.” The Jawas all scurried to surround us and take the fuzzy egg from Mando’s hands. They cheered and sliced it opening, revealing a gooey substance that they all maniacally feasted on. Mando and I made our way to Kuiil, “I’m surprised you waited,” Mando said. “I’m surprised you two took so long,” Kuiil quipped before turning around and getting ready to load up the cart. 

The Jawas held true to their word and returned all the parts they’d taken from the Razor Crest. The four of us rode back as the suns were starting to set, me and Mando sitting back to back on a crate watching the child carefully. It hadn’t moved in a while, a tiny bit of concern invading my mind.

“Is it still sleeping?” Kuiil asked from his position on the blurrg.

I reached out to shake the pod gently, the child responded with a soft inhale and movement of his lips. “Yes,” Mando answered as he watched me. 

“Was it injured?” Kuiil inquired further, we’d explained to him what had happened as best we could. We didn’t even understand it which made it harder to describe to a third party.

“I don’t think so, not physically,” Mando said, his head never turning from the pod. Kuiil sighed, “Explain it to me again. I still don’t understand what happened.”

I shook my head as I replayed the surreal moment in my mind, my eyes trained on the child, “Neither do we. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

No, that seemed like an understatement. I had never seen anything even in the same realm of mysterious and odd sensations. It seemed like a moment out of a child’s storybook yet it was as real as the surefire death the kid had saved Mando and I from. The curious part of me wanted to ask Mando if he was questioning the phenomenon as much as I was. But I knew I wasn’t likely to get an answer out of him comprised of more than a disinterested syllable or two so it would be wasted effort.

When we get back to Nevarro, none of this will matter anyway, I thought. 

It was dark by the time we got back to the Razor Crest. Kuiil volunteered to stay and help us with repairs and with three sets of hands, it went faster than expected. By morning, the three of us were in the cockpit conducting a successful test on the engines.

“I can’t thank you enough,” Mando said as we stood by the ramp of the ship with Kuiil, “Please allow us to give you a portion of the reward.”

This time, I was okay with Mando freely giving away our credits. “Yes, you saved our asses several times these past two days. Please take the money.” The ugnught shook his head firmly, “I cannot accept. You are my guests, and I am therefore in your service.” As Kuiil packed up, Mando paced around the exit of the ship. “I could use a crew member of your ability, and I can pay handsomely.” I leaned against the wall of the ship, watching the exchange. Mando wasn’t my cup of spotchka, but him and Kuiil seemed to have a much better repartee than the two of us. If they travelled together, it would work well.

“I am honored,” Kuiil said sincerely, “But I have worked a lifetime to finally be free of servitude.”

“I understand,” Mando nodded, “Then all I can offer is my thanks.” “And I offer mine,” Kuiil gestured outside the ship, “Thank you both for bringing peace to my valley.”

With a nod to both of us, Kuiil departed the ship. I pushed off the wall to stand next to Mando and watched the unnnaught mount his blurrg. “And good luck with the child,” Kuiil waved to us, “May it survive and bring you a handsome reward. I have spoken.” I chuckled softly to myself at his farewell greeting and gave him a nod, there wasn’t a plethora of kindness in the galaxy, but Kuiil? He was one of the good ones, a dying breed.

“Let’s get going,” Mando said, pressing the button that retracted the ramp and shut the doors.

We silently made our way up the ladder and into the cockpit with the pod following Mando’s gauntlet’s programming. I took my seat in the chair behind the pod and watched as Mando powered up the ship. Before we took off, Kuiil, who was still seated outside, gave us a final wave. With that, we were finally back on track to Nevarro.

Once the course had been set, Mando turned around and copied my posture. Hunched over and watching the child peacefully sleep. What Kuiil said had gotten into my head, may it survive…May it survive. What if what it did for us had exhausted it to the point of death? For a split second I wasn’t thinking of any bounty, only the child. 

“Think it’ll wake up?” I blurted out, my mind having turned off as I watched the steady rise and fall of its chest.

Mando shook the pod gently, trying to wake it. “I don’t know,” he said quietly before facing forward in his seat and adjusting a few switches.

Add dependably non-hyperverbal to the list of qualities the Mandalorian possessed. I sat back in my seat, unsure of why our lack of communication suddenly bothered me.

Just as I settled into my chair, a coo came from the pod. Before my body knew what it was doing, I sat up straight and came face to face with the child’s big black eyes. It seemed alright on the surface, no visible signs of exhaustion or any injury. 

“Hey,” I called to Mando, who only tilted his head slightly in response, “We’ve got our answer.”

He finally turned around fully to see the child, not saying a word but clearly examining it with the same attention I did. Sometimes you didn’t need to see someone’s face to know exactly what was going on in their head. Something told me that Mando was as curious as I was, just better at hiding it. He looked over to me and gave me a once over, “You should use the refresher before we get to Nevarro.” 

I looked down at myself, I had forgotten for a few seconds that I was still caked in dry mud from the day before. Suddenly I felt disgusting and had no issue with following Mando’s suggestion. Silently I rose from my seat and headed out of the cockpit, but not before taking one last look at the child. Its eyes were trained on me as I prepared to leave the room, there was something about its stare that caused every thought in my head to cease. There was nothing but innocence and wonder, something so pure that no one as cruel as a bounty hunter was ever on the receiving end of. I began to squirm under its gaze, feeling emotions rise in my chest that I wasn’t used to. I hurried down the ladder and towards the sanisteamer, in sudden need to be as far away from the kid as possible.

I knew exactly why it bothered me. 

Flashbacks of events prior to my life in the guild were coming, I could feel them. Over the years I’d gotten good at controlling them or at least being able to work through them, but this was different. The emotions were working their way through my body until lodging themselves firmly in my chest. Feeling the constricting, I hurried to grab my spare set of clothes out of my bag and made a sprint for the sanisteamer.

Only then, when I knew nobody was around me, did I allow the familiar panic to wash over my body.

--------

A/N: Next chapter is where things really take off so prepare yourselves...Let me know if you’d like to be tagged!

Taglist: @toribentleyvq @pan-ini @simp-for-corpse @thefandomzoneisdangerous @never-no-locomotive

(Just now realizing I didn’t add this to the other chapters 🙈) Star Wars Permanent Taglist: @paintballkid711 @katrynec @caswinchester2000 @theliterarymess @softly-sad

[seoafin]

tbh,, i havent read the raws of the interview yet, only the translated ver from fan-translator and b4 i start, i think that this will be just me talking in circle and in no particular order AND a real mess (my brain does weird things after exams) but uhh here we go

gojou collects talented people, and by doing so he finds the people he can most probably relate to, except that he can't, not really, because something in the universe shifted when he was born. and it makes me think of how he's always known it, that he is special, and he's proven it, time and time again— he wants to take in talented ppl and he does, but there rly isn't much he can do for them. for they are talented, more talented than the world can understand,,

but they aren't gojou satoru

gojou took in megumi, bc he knew megumi was strong, and would grow up to be someone even stronger, but gojou can't facilitate or encourage his growth, bc for all they're similar, they are so fundamentally different. ALSO,, while geto was in his life, gojou rly judged everything according to his understanding of geto’s moral compass. gojou wears a human suit and geto is how he learnt to wear it well 🏃

the dragonfly analogy regarding to geto’s response to gojo, who was shown wearing a dragonfly patterned yukata in HI arc,, i’m trying to not think abt the fact that dragonfly symbolized victory in jpn....pain. i quoted from a web here for more explanation : In Japan the dragonfly is known as the "victory insect", or kachimushi, because of its hunting prowess and also because it is known to never retreat. Dragonflies are agile and fast fliers and can even hover, but never fly backwards

and bringing this up again, matricide and patricide are 2 of the 5 worst act to commit in buddhism, and it was said that if u commit one of those act u’re going to spend a real long time in the deepest pit of hell before continuing the samsaric cycle (higher chances to be born as an animal after that probs)— this might be geto’s divine retribution. held no power over his own body and could be considered that he’s the same as those “monkeys” 💀

ALSO the fact that sukuna's interest is "eating" rly drives home his hedonistic philosophy of seeking pleasure for himself. and he’s a cannibal...makes me think if he’ll just chomp on ppl with the mouth on his stomach

randomly, to date i think he hasn't really called himself a human, shaman, or a curse, and has held himself apart from all 3, and we've also the intro of the cursed wombs so i wonder if he’s trying to become, or is, a different entity altogether

so onmyoji got mentioned in the interview and what they practice is called onmyodo and abe no seimei and kano no yasunori were the notable practitioners,, and the kamo in jjk is the same as irl who served the imperial court back then

maybe i was right when i said that the relation between the govt. and jujutsu elders are similar to how the shogunate and imperial court work (ie, the former holds the actual power) but... lets see later,,

and i cant believe that i actually nailed it on the analogy of jujutsu practices by religion,,, so mahayana buddhism, shintoism, and taoism is present in jjk along with their respective jujutsu practices...but between the 3, it shld (?) be taoism > shintoism > mahayana buddhism (which could took a path to pure land buddhism)

it’s weird that the number of curses are supposedly higher in jpn comparable to other countries when taoism was brought from china....tengen sus

so the zenin family tree is sth like :

brothers: [toji's dad] ; naobito ; ougi

so toji, naoya, and maki & mai are cousins of the same generation

[toji's dad] → jinichi (probs) ; toji → megumi

naobito → other brothers, naoya

ougi → maki, mai

but yea i’d call anyone who’s within/close or below my age range as cousins and others above 30 as uncles/ aunts LMFAO,, i dont rly memorize my own family tree 😭😭 especially since most call the other by honorifics instead of names : aunt, uncles etc or attaching said honorifics at the end of a name for an older sibling figure/ older cousins [but like ppl in my country also call the other who are older with sibling honorific even if we’re strangers,,, rly similar to korea’s hyung/oppa—eonnie(unnie)/noona but some uses more genderless honorific] (1)

tw // topic of incest, mentions of abuse

if anyone got the wrong idea when reading this : i am not glorifying/ romanticising incest(uous themes),, i’m looking at this with absolutely no lenses of bias even tho im rly against it

初恋 = literally : first love, or puppy love

恋 = romantic love/ deep longing

i literally don't know how else to put this...🧍and with language barrier...using a western interpretation of the eng word "love" to explain a jpnese term is not quite that simple, unfortunately

that thread omg,, i rly do understand how exactly someone could associated kindness with love bc of my upbringing, it was when i was slightly older that i was just...oh so its not like that orz,,, so the most plausible explanation would be that

but the problem is that,, akutami never specify when exactly she had a crush on them,, and when megumi answered todo’s question she had a “♡” reaction 😶,, uhmmm there’s rly no way to look past this if its this way or be in denial

i’ve seen some of "why wouldn't mai react that way after hearing megumi say he'd like someone who's compassionate when she's surrounded by men like naoya",, well I MEAN,,, that, but also mai probs admires that megumi grew up so well out of the clan, regardless of the fact that he had the foundation (10 shadows) to do so. imo she seems happy for him the way she can't be for maki, bc maki ultimately had to leave her behind

hate to say it but yea,, the 3 clans most likely still practice inbreeding in order to preserve their power and presumably their wealth too 😀

i had an idle thought abt it at first but i filed it deep in the back of my mind asap,, bc i ont wanna jump to conclusion abt this out of all things too early. it’s probably not even in jjk, but all those elite clans in other ani/mangas that produce powerful heirs and whatnot also do the same,,, but this way of (my personal) thinking was influenced when i first got into tsukihime (type-moon),,, i read abt the nanaya family background and found out that they practice that in order to keep their bloodline “pure” (to keep it short : they have an optical power),, and i had this kind of assumption ever since so there’s that

i’m,, convinced the zenins' inbreeding made it more difficult for them to get powerful shamans bc they got 2 jujutsu technique-less children with heavenly restrictions in the same generation: toji & maki

even more convinced that maki might be a bit stronger than toji bc toji could see curses without aid while maki can't so the pay-off must be higher,,, SJJASN IDK ,,, plus naoya sort of implies his older brothers are nothing compared to him, and idk if we should take that as his arrogance or that his older brothers rly are weak/powerless. it would make sense as to why naobito had a lot of sons, ig, as head of clan

i feel so bad that if one of the factors that can caused heavenly restriction is inbreeding,, toji and maki and mai had no say in how they wanted to be born but are scorned for it,, typical asian families projecting their traumas and ideals onto their kids but get mad when they realize that those ideals are ugly...😁😁😁

since the zenin are conservative,, i wonder if they still hold onto old jpnese dining traditions. where in ancient jpn, hierarchical relationships were made readily apparent even within families. a dining table where everybody sat down and ate as equals would be unheard of. rather, each individual is given their own table that indicates their status,,, someone who is not considered “strong” according to the zenin’s views most likely have no place at the table, and probs eat when those who are “strong” finished/ serve them when they are eating

if toji was tossed into a swarm of curses,, i dont think abuse during said time is below them,,,

the zenin clan was already great, but they further amassed power and strength by, what i assume to be, marrying and adopting powerful individuals into the clan 🤔 ,,, i imagine they're like the hiiragi but without doing what they did to shinya (ons reference)

BUT after all that, i like to think that since akutami’s a big horror fan, jjk might be an outlet to explore said topics or even darker ones, so i wouldnt be that surpised abt it. given that there’s more than enough “red flags” before this was dropped : a reference to “tale of hikaru genji” when a grown woman asked for gojou’s number in HI arc (out of all things); granny who transformed into the man’s daughter, sat on his lap and man just touched her waist; mei mei and ui ui ; and...this (incestous theme is in the novel btw)

lets not start with whatever the fuck in kubo’s head in the interview otherwise i’m writing paragraphs with every curse words possible,, those big 3 mangakas are so— UGH,, a planet w out (cis) men like him sounds real good rn 😌 if one of yall out there decide to do it,, pls hmu rly cant do this shit anymore

akutami said i like my men pretty and i like women who will step on my neck and spit in my face (I REMEMBERED TATSUKI FUJIMOTO’S INTERVIEW WHEN HE WAS ASKED ABT MAKIMA AND IT WAS SO 😭😭😭😭) but ykw,, love that for both of them <3

when i said 3 : one piece, bleach, naruto. aside from the blatant depiction/ characterize of women in those 3,, idk if some ppl arent aware yet but oda is friends with two (2) convicted pedos,, man...the major disappointment and disgust when i first find out abt it

anyways this is just my 2 cents (which i think rightfully belong to the trash can) so pls just take this w a lil to no grain of salt - 🐱

YEAH THE ♡ LMFAO I THOUGHT IT WAS JUST A “good answer ♡“ heart BUT NOW IM RE-EXAMINING?????

honestly i wouldn’t be surprised if the three clans practiced inbreeding. but ik people are going to be  😡😡😡😡😡 about it when the queen of fucking england is literally married to her (something) cousin. i’m not justifying it but like....love the double standards, just as always with the west 😍

DON’T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON THAT FUCKING PED* LIST THEY SHOULD ALL BE IN JAIL. JAILLLLL. it’s all so gross. that’s why i fucking hate when people look towards manga for positive representation because the chances of that are super slim to zero, especially since the industry is saturated with misogyny and ped******* and a lot of other gross stuff.

i think ppl forget jjk is a horror manga LOL so obviously it’s going to confront darker themes. the question is whether it’s going to be done tastefully or not......

[australian-desi]

Rest In Peace ~ Sushant Singh Rajput

Hey guys, I was going into a spiral thinking about SSR and everything he went through and I needed somewhere to write my feelings down. There’s so much noise about this on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram, I didn’t want to add to the noise, bashing and overall negativity, so found this to be the best place. I’m sorry in advance if I offend anyone. This is going to be very long. 

Sushant Singh Rajput the Actor and Human:

I’m not going to lie, I wasn’t his biggest fan, not by a long shot. I watched him in Pavitra Rishta every now and then because my mum was obsessed with that show and I used to be confused as to why everyone was obsessed with Manav and Archana - I was 12 years old when the show started and just felt it was another saas-bahu serial. However, to this day it amazes me how Manav and Archana were able to capture their audience for three consecutive years when their story was another saas-bahu serial. It was obviously the actors portraying them, and it takes a lot to grab someone’s attention and keep it on yourself. SSR had that energy. I remember then he came onto Jhalak Dikhlaa Jaa, I watched that show quite religiously because of my love for dance, and was bowled over by how good of a dancer he was. He had perfect lines, and his posture was amazing, I was in awe every time he danced. I remember that in that show he proposed to his then-gf in the cutest way possible, a proposal that is etched into my mind till this day. 

He then left his daily soap, for a career in Bollywood, it was a very risky, bold move because it is a well known fact - Tellywood actors, are rarely able to make good careers in Bollywood. Most of them become irrelevant after their first or second movie. But man was everyone wrong about Sushant. I didn’t watch Kai Po Che, but I remember the buzz around it at the time, everyone was talking about it, and it was one of the biggest movies of that year. He then did Shuddh Desi Romance - a movie I was inclined to watch because he was in it, I was slowly turning into a fan, but I didn’t get the chance to watch it. Then came PK. When PK’s trailer was launched, SSR’s cameo was kept a secret, I remember I was in the theatre and he came onto the screen and absolutely owned it. His performance as Sarfaraz won me over, and a smile still comes to my face when I remember him in the song “chaar kadam”. SSR had an amazing screen presence, he knew how to keep the audience’s attention on himself and a lot of the time you would forget this Sushant Singh Rajput, in fact you would only think of him as his character. The brilliance in his craft was the ability to become his characters completely, to the point you think of them as a real person. The next movie I watched of his was MS Dhoni - a movie that became a sensation. Everyone who went to the movie as Dhoni fans, came back as Sushant’s fan. He deserved that and more. You could see his hardwork, his passion and his dedication in everything he did. I remember when the trailer for Raabta dropped, I was super excited two of my favourite actors - Sushant and Kriti had come together. At that point I started watching more interviews of him and got to know him a little from what he portrayed as a person. Raabta flopped at the box office, however, personally I enjoyed it and I was amazed at the chemistry he had with Kriti Sanon. In Kedarnath, I was so excited that Sara Ali Khan was doing her debut with him, and man both did not disappoint. Kedarnath was an amazing movie and Sushant portrayed his character with utmost conviction. Chichore was the last movie I watched of his and I absolutely loved the movie and him in it. The themes and overall message of that movie hit deep, and it was intelligently made, with comedy mixed with the darker themes, but not taking away from the main message they were trying to convey. Overall, even though I wasn’t a fan of him at the start of his career, he had won me over. 

I also started adoring him as a person. His love for physics and astronomy; his eyes full of curiosity and enthusiasm towards the great unknowns. He didn’t finish his engineering degree, but the childlike wonder he had towards science made me excited as a scientist myself. He showed everyone that he had a brilliant mind and I’ve said this before and I’ll said it again, actors who are educated and well-spoken make me respect them more, they have a different way of thinking, they are eloquent and they show how much education can do for a person. SSR had all of these qualities. I could hear him speak for hours at a time. His instagram posts were always so deep and meaningful, it would make me thing differently, and his 50 things bucket list inspired me to no end. Especially how much he wanted to do for other people and how much he wanted to grow as a person. He also had an infectious smile, his smile used to make his fans smile and it takes a big person to do that. 

SSR’s Death: 

I was doing an assignment when one of my friend’s had sent me the news. I thought it was a hoax at first, but then I googled him, and it was true - Sushant Singh Rajput had committed suicide. Honestly, I’ve been distraught since then, I cried multiple times, and I can’t stop thinking about him, the pain he must’ve felt in order to take this decision, and whenever I saw his sisters or dad I cried even more, the sadness and despair I felt would be nothing compared to theirs, especially because his death was preventable. I’ve never been depressed, I’ve had my fair share of panic attacks and anxiety but I don’t know what depression is. I only know what I’ve studied, that people who are depressed have physiologically different brains to people who are not, they have decreased levels of oxytocin and serotonin, and that they have less grey matter. I’ve also been told that this causes them to not be able to function, they sleep too much, become unable to socialise, and their brain starts to turn them against themselves. However, I believe that there is always an underlying cause of depression. There are triggers for depression, a person doesn’t become depressed over nothing. I know everyone wants to know the trigger; why did he take such a drastic step, but he didn’t leave a note. He left with silence. I know it is difficult, but I feel that we should respect that, however, we should not let him die in vain. 

But I’m going to be real here IT IS NOT OUR PLACE AS THE GENERAL PUBLIC/AUDIENCE OR FANS TO GO ONTO OTHER CELEBRITIES TWITTERS/FB/IG AND CALL THEM MURDERERS. How dare we think that we can blame other people for someone’s death. I don’t care how these people treated him while he was alive, let them mourn him in peace. His death has taught me one thing, not one person is toxic, not one industry is toxic, all of us are. The person who is now checking up on every single person that they usually would not care for because of guilt, the girl shouting all over my timeline that Karan Johar, Deepika Padukone and Alia Bhatt murdered SSR, the boy screaming that x person didn’t post about his death they wouldn’t be affected by this or they don’t care. Every single person. Everyone needs to stop with raging on social media. They need to take a step back and breathe, and mourn and let others mourn. 

My take on Nepotism and Bollywood: 

Here’s the crux of the issue. Bollywood. I’m your average desi girl, I’ve grown up watching bollywood, being obsessed with it. To the point that at a certain time I only watched Bollywood. Then the whole nepotism scandal hit. I remember thinking to myself then, what’s the big deal? Also did people really not think about this until an actress had to come speak about it on national television? Did no one realise that Bollywood has been preferring starkids over other talents for decades? I used to think that yeah, Bollywood has nepotism, but where does nepotism not exist. The truth is nepotism exists everywhere. A doctor’s child becomes a doctor. A business man’s child becomes a businessman etc. But here’s the thing, the doctor’s child has to work towards becoming a doctor, he/she has to go through the same steps that other non-doctor children have to do. The only advantage they get is, that their parents might be able to help prepare them for what’s coming, and it’s not like every doctor has doctor parents, both people get equal opportunity. The child of a doctor just has more insight. However, in Bollywood, there is no equal ground, it isn’t as if a starkid only has it easy to get their first movie. Nope, they sign their second or third movie before their first one releases. Take Sara Ali Khan for example, she had already signed Simmba, before Kedarnath had released. Now take Anushka Sharma, she didn’t get her second movie two years after the release of her first one. Nepotism does exist, it will exist, but in other industries, the people who aren’t a product of it are still able to get promoted, to do good work and receive equal opportunity. However, in Bollywood this is not the case. It has never been the case. This needs to change. This needs to desperately change. Especially because nepotism didn’t use to be as bad, as the products of nepotism were still talented, but now, they are not, and SSR’s death can bring this change, because Bollywood is losing it’s credibility, and as I consider Bollywood my own, my home, I want it to do better. Actors who come from non-film backgrounds and television deserve to share space in mainstream cinema with those who do come from film backgrounds. 

Where From Here

In the past couple of years, we’ve become a horrible society. We pretend to like people when we meet them, and then bitch about them behind their back. We also think that whatever comes to our heads we can say to whatever celebrity the way we want because them being public figures is an open invitation for us to say hurtful things to them which normally we would not say if we meet them in person. We are the people who cry about nepotism, and then when a movie doesn’t have a big star in it we go “we’ll watch it at home, if we have time, why waste money going to the cinema”. We are the same people who cry about mental health issues and to raise awareness, when we think its absolutely fine to give a celebrity death threats because of a comment they made. We are also those people who cry about how SSR was treated unfairly, when we had a chance to go see his movies but didn’t. Who gave us this authority to be able to judge? Who gave us the right? If we won’t talk to other people with such disrespect in real life, why can we over the internet? WE. NEED. TO. DO. BETTER. AS. A. SOCIETY. 

We need to stop shaming people, we need to support artists that aren’t star kids, but also support star kids. They don’t deserve the hate they get either. It isn’t completely their fault that they are given more opportunity. It’s our fault too. We are the ones who make them successful. Directors know that they could sell more tickets with Ranbir Kapoor on the poster than Sushant Singh Rajput, even if Sushant Singh Rajput is a better artist. We need to support both talents. We need to show filmmakers as an audience, that both artists should be given equal opportunity. That the only thing nepotism should do for a starkid is just give them insight on what a life of an actor is like. That is all. They should also go to auditions, they should also be accepted or rejected based on talent. And for the love of god, we need to stop getting celebrities to judge other celebrities based on acting skills and sex appeal. it’s 2020, we can do better. 

Also to anyone who’s having any sort of dark thoughts. Please, I beg of you talk to someone. There is someone who loves you; your parents, siblings, teachers, friends, family, that brown guy in your dms. And if you truly don’t know anyone that you can talk to, talk to a therapist on a free hotline. My inbox is also always open if you want to chat. 

To Sushant Singh Rajput - I will miss seeing you at the movies, your smile and your interviews, and how much of an inspiration you were to me. I hope you are at peace now, and finally found happiness. 

For anyone who read this - thank you for reading my absolute ramble and I hope I made sense 

Here’s a dumb joke to make you hopefully smile a little, or at least roll your eyes: What do you call bacteria found in Agra? Agraculture - does this even make sense. IDK. All I want to say is, that I’ve been an absolute dukhi aatma for the past couple of days, and now its time to smile, and look at some positives. 

[americanroyalwatcher]

Why we love Kate, not Meghan

I’ve been seeing the “If you love her (Catherine) you don’t need to hate her (Meghan)” meme going around on IG. I had to clear things up for myself and anybody this resonates once and for all. Let me first start off by saying my feelings for Meghan Markle are not of hate. I find her and Catherine beautiful in their own respective ways. I only abhor Meghan’s behavior, actions, total disrespect for the Royal Family hierarchy, trying to curry favor with the public through her PR attempts, and blatant sense of entitlement.

We are only typing words online making it difficult to decipher a tone of voice. Since there is none to be heard or facial expressions detected, you can take it much more worse, dramatic, and catty than it really is. I try to write as clearly as I can to convey my meanings as fast I can churn it out for everyone to read. I do it so my opinions are not misunderstood to be of jealousy, hating, bullying, or racism. I feel I have to restate this as I’ve gained many new followers and likely new spies or just plain curious folks. It would be truly wonderful to meet everyone I interact with online, follower, spy, or passersby. That human interaction is missing from this very anti-social media platform.

So, let me say I am none of those four things above. In fact, I was quite enthusiastic initially with Meghan Markle’s debut into the royal scene. She of course is a far cry from the typical posh British blondes Harry dated. It was refreshing and new. She was a Californian, ethnic, and American just like me, who came from a disjointed family. She was a breath of fresh air as a new addition, but that quickly turned into mush when that engagement interview revealed her domineering, controlling, and insincere personality with the camera. I took her saying she didn’t know THAT MUCH about Price Harry, not that she didn’t know him or the royal family. This is often restated incorrectly. Her statement during the interview came off as if Prince Harry’s royal-ness wasn’t a big deal to her. That they’re equally on the same plane and their names hold the same weight as far as that statement went. That initial interview showed her ego on display and the Vanity Fair magazine she interviewed for as a tell all after it was revealed she was Harry’s girlfriend. Shortly before that, in November 2016, she had Harry write a foolish statement asking the public to leave her alone after she made a false report of someone breaking into her Toronto home. Then she goes on to do that Vanity Fair magazine. The hypocrisy. Harry could never turn back after that. It was more binding than a wedding if you ask me.

Even her ex-best friend Ninaka Priddy told DailyMail, “I know the Royal Family was something she found fascinating. She had one of Princess Diana’s books [Diana: Her True Story] on her bookshelf, and even when she was with Trevor she told me she wanted to go and stay in London for at least a month. I can’t remember exactly when this was, but she was married to Trevor and starring in Suits. She mentioned about wanting to go to London a couple of times. I wasn’t shocked or even surprised to hear about Prince Harry. I know she used to love The Princess Diaries — films about a commoner who becomes part of a Royal Family. She was very taken with that idea.”

Meghan would relish the thought of living a real life Princess Diaries scenario. Everyone in her family circle knew she was infatuated with the idea of being a modern day princess with power. She admired Princess She-Ra. In her defunct Tig blog she wrote, “I, for one, was all about She-Ra, Princess of Power. And grown women seem to retain this childhood fantasy. Just look at the pomp and circumstance surrounding the royal wedding and endless conversation about Princess Kate.”

That was a huge red flag to me. Her best friend knew her since she was 11 and they were inseparable like sisters, like family. So, I take her words seriously as to who Meghan really was. She stopped talking to her after three seasons of Suits. Fame got to her head. She left her then husband Trevor, who helped her get on the show. She was out for a more “empowering” position in life. She used who and what she could to get where she is today. She downplayed her knowledge and awareness of the royal family big time and it really came back to bite her.

Meghan had her sights set on expanding her name and fame somehow someway since Suits was wrapping up with her supporting role being axed soon. Unhappily, her marriage to Trevor Engelson ended abruptly by her (mailing her rings back my mail), after almost 10 years of supposed true happiness finding The One. According to her ex-best friend she knew since she was 11 years old. She left him for Corey Vitiello, a highly celebrated chef in Toronto after her career took off some with Suits. Corey was also cooking for Prince Harry when Meghan first met the royal. He runs a chicken restaurant chain called Flock. Roast chicken, anyone? Yes, Meghan has commented time and time again her specialty is roast chicken. She picked up this talent likely from living in common law marriage with Corey in Toronto. That’s also what she was cooking when Prince Harry proposed? Gosh, what a coincidence. The Sun said, “The pair split in May 2016 - with the Telegraph reporting that Meghan was still with Cory when she first met Harry. The prince was in Canada to promote the Invictus games in May 2016. The chef refused to comment on the rumours that the Prince was part of the reason their relationship ended.” Hmmm, also a suspicious coincidence.

I don’t knock her for watching out for herself and trying to put her name out there. It’s a dog-eat-dog world in the acting industry. She was only successful in Toronto with Suits. Hollywood was the ultimate goal and dream. Her father Thomas Markle was a successful Emmy winning lighting director for Married with Children. She basically grew up on set and likely salivated at the fame and attention she would get being one. As a narcissist, this would feed her ego majorly. She was never going to be more famous than an extra in those random comedies or low-budget made for TV movies. She was pushing nearly 40. That’s the career death age of actresses in North America, maybe everywhere. She wasn’t a Meryl Streep or Viola Davis. She had to think fast. She did. Man, did she hit the jackpot with Harry. Apparently, their relationship wasn’t even revealed to Harry’s family until 6 months into it. All that time, Thomas Markle kept his mouth shut about it. He was loyal to his favorite daughter and paid for her expensive upscale schooling her entire life, even some in college. She ghosted him for making a foolish mistake with the media when he didn’t recieve an invite to the wedding. This time period was key to her sinking her claws in to Prince Harry’s vulnerability, weaknesses, broken and damaged self. She does want to be another Diana, but all she is now is a mother-wife to Harry. As her ghosted former best friend said, she is very calculated.

Using others as a stepping stone or tool to get where you want is extremely cold-hearted, but that was her MO. There is a reason a trail of ghosted, dejected lovers, family and friends have come out of the woodwork since Harry said his family was the one she never had. HAH. Cry me a river. Samantha only came out when that was openly said. What a stupid, hurtful, foolish statement Harry. This was during the Christmas Service at Sandringham she attended when they were only engaged. That’s unheard of. Even Catherine Middleton, wife of the heir didn’t even get invited to any outings until they were officially married. I commend Prince William for his caution as he had much more to lose than Harry with his choice of a wife.

Prince William was extremely worried about the tabloids and press doing what they did to his beloved mother to Kate. They chased Kate around and staked out their cameras at her flat. They followed her to work. They shoved cameras in her face getting in and out of cars. She was very chill about it. Alarmed, but civil. It was chaos. She was a BIG DEAL. She was marrying the heir to the British monarchy. Prince William was a dreamboat. Many of us were very fascinated by who his choice was. When they married, there were years and years of ridicule with comments about her “Waity Katey” nickname. He made sure she has as much time living a normal private life before becoming a royal. She needed to withstand the public scrutiny as his on and off again girlfriend first. It wasn’t a matter of him getting coldfeet. He was protecting her. They were college friends first then fell in love over the course of 6 years or so. They had a solid foundation.

She even had a few incidents where her skirt flew up too high revealing too much as well as her chest. It’s all trivial superficial things, I know, but it matters as a royal. We do the same with Meghan. It’s the optics that need to be taken into consideration. I’m fine with critiquing dress style, as there’s a certain decorum needed in a royal family. She, Kate, needed to dress more prudently to avoid mishaps. There were several in her first few years. She has improved beautifully and has her style down to science. Kate had many of the criticisms Meghan shares as far as entering in the royal family goes being a commoner having to do with dress code and keeping her mannerisms appropriate at events. There are many comments on old articles saying how Kate was smiling way too much at this same event years ago. How her hair was too long. She needed to stop twirling it and have some respect for her role and the dignity of the event. It was the Remembrance Day Sunday event at Whitehall in 2013. The two years before that, she garnered the same scathing reactions from the public.

Kate has really come into her own despite the awful criticisms and judgement on her class. She has bore the years and years of cruel digs to her with great decorum and stride. She has NEVER COMPLAINED. She has come in to her own identity as a mother, wife, future queen consort, charity patron, and most importantly a genuine person with the public. I quote The Sun highlighting past labels calling her a "work-shy social climber, the lucky girl whose sole job in life was to sit around looking pretty until William proposed." That's all turned into something solid and magical.

She has an ease with others that makes them comfortable in her presence you don't expect from such a senior royal. She has bloomed. We love her for that and how she lets Prince William shine by supporting his role as heir through their duties and appearances together. She also shines equally if not more than Prince William. Her children are absolutely gorgeous and a delight. We have all come to adore her because she has earned it. Yes, with the public you have to earn our love.

With Meghan, it seemed as if they were marrying then having a baby at warp speed before Harry decided to change his mind without knowing her family and past. They weren’t allowing the public to let us see Meghan in a positive gradual light, but a social climbing one with all her past history written online for all to see; also through the testimony of friends, families, her attention-seeking Instagram posts, colleagues etc. She hadn’t proved herself worthy yet to the public like Kate. It was hitting the ground running to be her own brand and name through Harry’s family.

On a superficial level, Kate and Meghan are not fashionistas or supermodels. But they are always photographed with what brands they’re wearing for all to see. That’s the fun part of watching all royal women, their outfits and accessories. But with Meghan it goes PAST and BEYOND outfits and style. It’s an entire plethora of reasons. She’s a whole different “beast” as she likened her unfair treatment in that Africa interview. All that have nothing to do with her ethnicity. The criticisms we non-Markle fans share with her are as followed:

• ghosting those friends and family members she used to put a notch on her belt

• using Princess Diana’s name to beautify her tainted image

• using Harry and his weaknesses to crawl her way into the royal family

• portraying such an affected manner in which she speaks, interactions with others, and overall pretending to be royal instead of being herself

• wearing inappropriate revealing attire to events, not adhering to dress code

• being rude and demanding to royal staff and even film and restaurant workers before marrying Harry

• constantly stepping in front of Harry as if he was the non-royal at events, inserting herself in conversations and trying to be the center of attention, a know-it-all

• making herself out to be a self made millionaire when she was more like a thousand-aire after Suits owning no real estate, cars or possessions to note beside an expensive heel collection

• taking credit for things that she did not do entirely on her own but passing it off that she did

• upsetting Duchess of Cambridge who she should have allied with for assimilation

• planting her PR stories to try and break up the image and marriage that the Cambridges have naturally built

• constantly trying to one-up the Cambridges while they go about their duties, her seething envy is quite evident by trying to take the light away from their causes

• inconsistent stories of how she and Harry met, supposedly it's Misha Nonoo, but who knows

• implying she was pregnant, all but announcing it with that navy blue coat halfway open at Princess Eugenie's wedding

• overly flicking her coat open constantly and prancing around with her hand on her ever changing bump (whether real or not we will never know)

• embellishing her character by feeding us accolades of herself every chance she gets, especially on Sussex Royal

• rarely ever using the titles of more important senior royals, but overusing her HRH on herself

• having famous Hollywood friends constantly speak for her and how amazing she is, many whom she had NEVER met prior to marrying Harry, but invited to the wedding anyway; leaving out her own family members (especially her loving father who made a foolish mistake) on both sides who did nothing to warrant such cold-heartedness

• preaching about carbon footprints, only having two children, and saving the environment all the while jetting around in private jets around the world sparing no expense

• portraying this image of a humanitarian when she herself is seen constantly in astronomically priced bespoke, couture, and designer clothes and accessories that taxpayers find (well over a million now dollars as the 6th in line’s wide); paid or not by designers to advertise for them

According to The Star, “It’s a figure so staggering it’s worth revisiting. According to estimates — based on totalling up the approximated or stated retail values of everything she’s been seen wearing since November 2017 — the number is hovering around the $1.5 million mark. On her and Harry’s official visit to Ireland this spring, for instance, Markle wore over $52,000 worth of fashion in just two days.”

They also stated “The majority of Markle’s expenditure this year went toward her two wedding dresses: That Givenchy ceremony dress is thought to have cost around $330,000 and her Stella McCartney dress (or the capsule collection’s 46 replicas released after the wedding, at least) sold for $5,800. That’s a bargain compared to the $93,000 she spent on the Ralph & Russo frock she wore for some of her engagement shoot. Add in a $6,500 Oscar de la Renta dress to a wedding here, a $5,000 bespoke Carolina Herrera frock to a Trooping the Colour there, and well, you get to that million mark pretty quickly.”

• then there’s the vacant Forgmore Cottage that wasted taxpayers money if $3 million to renovate; apparently they don’t even live there as she’s in SoHo accommodations and he in his Nottingham Cottage

• playing media games with the facts and dates surrounding the birth of Archie and never allowing him to be photographed until it was on African soil for a docu-drama

• pleading for privacy over and over then showing up unannounced at events uninvited,

• filming a tone-deaf tactless documentary in Africa, revealing how she felt she's didn't have a fair shake in the royal family, the absolute nerve of she and Harry

• suing the press for racism and hate stories when she herself courts the press daily (she did pap walks in London right before it was announced she was Harry's girlfriend), when she has herself and Harry to thank for all the negative press as there's not one story pointing out criticism of her ethnic background

• lastly, there are the extreme fans called the “sugars” who go around defending MM every chance they get in a rageful manner like packs of rabid dogs if we comment on how we don’t like her style of dress or try to reason with a differing opinion to theirs on a certain news story

Have I missed anything? Likely so. I’m still new to this whole Markle debacle so excuse my errors and typos. The soap opera does go on and there are so many details and shady ways Meghan has portrayed herself past and present. From what I’ve seen, heard, and read from her own mouth and those who knew her well, “she’s a witch” as Candace Owens put it bluntly. I truly wanted to give the benefit of the doubt to her when she kept shooting herself in the foot.

She is NOT where Kate was when she married Prince William either. Kate was 29, unmarried and very close to her family with no previous marriages. Today, her family appear to be her rock solid support outside of Prince William. She assimilated well with the other royals who she now calls family. She listened to counsel, respected the centuries of tradition the monarchy had always followed. She won our hearts. Through and through, she can credit her great inner strength she possessed to overcome the constant ridicule to become the well loved future queen consort of Britain. That is no easy feat.

Meghan was 37 and many times divorced (one annulled with Joe Giuliano, an attorney she married after college), so maybe three if you count the common law marriage with Cory in Canada. Trevor was her first official one. So Harry may be her 4th! She had lived many lives before with connections to SoHo, being a yacht girl, then there are her ties to the wretches Jeffery Epstein, Hillary Clinton, Weinstein and their global agenda machine I would have to write a dissertation on to explain.

She appeared to have used her first official husband Trevor, a successful producer in his own right (she got a cameo in his film Remember Me with Robert Pattinson) to get her role on Suits as he’s done excellent for himself in the film industry as a producer. Meghan was somewhat popular in Toronto from the supporting role. She was being phased out soon after her relationship with Corey started as well. She needed a plan, along came Prince Harry one fine clucking night. Then, she set her sights on getting setup with him by Markus Anderson or Misha Nonoo; who knows with all these conflicting stories.

I said good for her at the start. At first it was incredible to see an ordinary girl from LA had married into such a high profile family, to a real titled Prince, no less! It was inspiring and fun to fantasize. Nevertheless, Meghan’s actions listed above, the various first-hand testimonies of people who were family and friends pre-Harry, her hellbent PR attempts to heighten her name, her lack of honesty, her contrived behavior pretending to be a coy ingenue, the scary desire to be Princess Diana by hunting Harry like a sport, and all the stories coming out about how she was searching for a famous British man to elevate her profile, and likely so much more to come, are why we are here with these accounts today.

Hate is such a blanket word overused nowadays in the media. But she has earned that word all on her own. We’re here to disprove and retort the stories churned out daily by her team Sunshine Sachs that continue to deceive the public. Everything is out there to see. Her character is out there to decipher online. You just have to stop reading the fluff and self-promotion and find her true nature pre-Harry to see her scheming social climbing insincere self-serving ways. So, please don’t make us out to be hating, racist, jealous, bullies because we don’t love her like we do Kate. Move past that because we’re tired of hearing it. There’s no other argument anymore for her sugars it seems. Excuse me for not buying Meghan’s pseudo feminism and humanitarian image. She is far from that of a humanitarian. Everything is written on the wall for her. She only has herself to thank for it.

[thebachelordiaries]

‘Corinne’s Dad Needs His Own Show‘ The Bachelor Ep. 8 Recap

Monday night’s hometown dates apparently set a viewer record. I think a “thank you” to Raquel is in order. That woman deserves an appearance fee.

Each of Nick’s final four hometown dates brought something very different to the table. If we didn’t know Rachel was going home, I’d say it would be extremely difficult to guess who makes it to the fantasy suites.

Too freaking bad we already know what happens. One day I hope to be surprised again.

I remember Ben’s hometown dates had me thinking the show only casts upper class women who grew up living in mansions. Upon seeing the homes of the women on Nick’s season, maybe Ben just had a thing for future trophy wives.

Nick’s women came from more realistic homes. Well, Rachel’s house was pretty YUGE and Corinne’s family does live in a luxury condo….never mind. Let’s meet their families.

Hoxie, Arkansas

I drove through Arkansas once. Little Rock seemed normal but when I pulled off the interstate in the middle of nowhere, I felt like I was transported into an alternate universe. That’s probably how Nick felt when he arrived in Raven’s hometown.

Just in case you were wondering where the hell Hoxie is. (Little Rock is right by the “N” in Arkansas)

Raven whisks Nick away on an ATV and they arrive at a grain bin, which is where all the kids go to “make out” in Hoxie, which explains why half of America has an intolerance to gluten.

While they are climbing the grain bin, the police arrive on the scene. Leave it to a small redneck town to have a cop spoil all the fun. Actually, the cop turned out to be Raven’s big brother. If you don’t pull this prank on hometowns, is your brother even a cop? (the answer is no)

Nick and Raven go riding on ATVs and stop to frolic in a swamp area, which leads them to wrestling each other in the water. It felt…..dirty.

I believe you can watch an extended version of this scene on PornHub.

We later arrive at Raven’s childhood home. At this point my mind starts estimating how much her family must pay for their home. Probably next to nothing. I’m just going to cry silently for how much it costs to pay rent near me.

And we’re back, but my tears are here to stay because we get the announcement that Raven’s dad, who has been fighting lung cancer for the past 1.5 years, is now cancer free.

And now I’m legitimately sobbing because Raven said she would rather walk down the isle alone than walk down with anyone else.

When Nick told Danielle L. what kind of relationship he was looking for (raw, adventurous), I think it summed up what a life would be like with Raven. Just don’t cheat on her cause she will eff you up.

Dallas, Texas

Rachel took Nick to church. A predominantly black church that is.

Maybe if I grew up going to church like that (lively, upbeat) I would be religious, or at the very least enjoy going to church.

I think my favorite part of this episode was that Rachel’s dad Hon. Lindsay is too important to be on this show. The show said he had work obligations, but a People article said Nick later met the federal judge off camera.

Rachel’s home is so stately. Definitely a home that belongs to a judge.

Meeting the rest of Rachel’s family felt a bit tense, but that was mostly due to ABC just showing the conversation about how Rachel and Nick would deal with the racism of being an interracial couple. It was an important conversation, but I’m sure less tense conversations were not shown.

Overall, I thought it was adorable how nervous Nick was to meet her family. But that just makes me even more confused about the outcome. 

This was my favorite part of the episode. Their dinner time banter just felt so real. “Do you know what everything is?” Rachel’s sister questions Nick about his dinner plate, specifically the okra. “I’m not from Mars,” he replies.

I spent this entire hometown date looking for signs that would let us know Nick would be sending Rachel home. I found none. Without knowing Rachel will be the Bachelorette, I feel like her and Nick have the strongest connection.

ABC continues to fuck with my cognitive thinking. At least they’re consistent. 

Miami, Florida

Corinne is a material girl living in a material world and doesn’t care who knows it. She takes us to a shopping center and we watch her blow my 6-month paycheck at a single store. 

I think Corinne likes to live an expensive lifestyle, but it was totally exaggerated on the show. Even though Nick was out of his element, you can tell he was having a ton of fun hanging out with Corinne; he couldn’t stop smiling!

Next we get to meet the famous Raquel. Raquel cares a lot about Corinne and vice versa. Yes, it’s a privilege to have a nanny, which is really just a more respectful term for housekeeper, as Corinne said, but that doesn’t make Corinne a bad person.

Despite all the Raquel hype, I personally felt that Mr. Olympios stole the show. 

Mr. Olympios: So, do you really like this guy?

Corinne: Absolutely.

Mr. Olympios: Do you have feelings for him?

Corinne: I told him today that I loved him.

Mr. Olympios: Wow. My god. REALLY?!

Corinne: *nods* We’ve been dating for a month and a half.

Mr Olympios: That’s only six weeks.

Mr. Olympios after Corinne says Nick will be able to make enough money to keep her happy. He’s so animated.

I’m not sure he’s convinced.

Firstly, I need to find me a man who looks at me the same way Corinne’s dad looks at his world famous marinated Greek olives. Secondly, this may be the first time where the show discusses post-show financial opportunities of the Bachelor as a bad thing. Yes, there are plenty of advertising opportunities, but it’s not a sustainable, longterm career. Corinne’s dad was like, “Corinne, what if he can’t afford you?” and Corinne replied that she would have no problem being the breadwinner. If you don’t love Corinne for that, you are just bitter. 

At the end, Mr. Olympios (Jim) said he ended up liking Nick more than he thought and he thinks Nick is the “lid to Corinne’s pot.”

Corrine thinks so too. Except there are three obstacles in her way.

“I love Nick. I’m in love with Nick. I just hate that he’s dating three other girls. Ew.”

Hey, at least she knows other women are involved, unlike that one Canadian.

Montreal, Canada

I find it strange that a family of die-hard Italians live in a French-Canadian city. Of all the places…

We visit Vanessa’s special needs students and get to see what she does every day. I really do admire her for her chosen career path.

Vanessa gets surprised by teachers and students while she and Nick were exiting a classroom. The edit made it seem like they were just entering the building. Fooled me the first time…interesting.

Vanessa’s family is like every stereotypical Italian family I know: dramatic AF. But I do have something in common with her. Our parents are divorced and we’re equally close with our mom and dad. Because of this, we get to visit two homes on this hometown visit.

I have to say Vanessa seems to act like she’s the only girl dating Nick. Her friend asked if they knew where they were going to live after the show. Her sister told Nick she would “never forgive” him if he broke her heart. Dude, you guys just met. Vanessa’s brother started getting emotional saying how he doesn’t want to see her get hurt again. Vanessa must really be dramatic if her entire family is scared for her to get her heart broken.

When it came to asking for a father’s blessing, Mr. Grimaldi questions Nick if he asked other fathers if he could marry their daughters. He said yes. It was so awkward, but I loved it.

Vanessa then finds out that Nick asked her dad about getting engaged and she just assumes her father is the only dad he asked. Her burst of happiness is soon put out as she finds out Nick asked the other fathers as well.

Vanessa, this is what you signed up for. You aren’t entitled to special treatment. Despite her inability to realize she is not the only woman in Nick’s life, I still think they have the strongest connection, especially since, ya know, the show already told us Rachel will not be chosen. (never getting over it.)

I just need ABC to rip the bandaid off and send Rachel home.

Which hometown date was your favorite? Mine was Corinne’s.

The rose ceremony is in New York so of course, because we all know who lives in New York, we get a cameo from Andi. I’m here for it. Nothing important is going to happen between them romantically. That ship has sailed farrrrrr away.

I just want to remind everyone what Andi said in her book about Nick real quick: he told her he would rather fuck the first few times and then make love. Despite saying he prefers to “fuck,” he then confronts Andi on After The Final Rose and asks "why did you make love to me if you weren't in love with me." 

Andi isn’t interested in him anymore. She’s too busy being a G. And the “G” stands for Gucci loafers.

Oh you fancy, huh? (Image via Andi’s IG)

Still excited to see her, though.

[tinymixtapes]

Column: Favorite Rap Mixtapes of October 2018

With a cascade of releases spewing from the likes of DatPiff, LiveMixtapes, Bandcamp, and SoundCloud, it can be difficult to keep up with the overbearing yet increasingly vital mixtape game. In this column, we aim to immerse ourselves in this hyper-prolific world and share our favorite releases each month. The focus will primarily be on rap mixtapes — loosely defined here as free (or sometimes free-to-stream) digital releases — but we’ll keep things loose enough to branch out if/when we feel it necessary. (Check out last month’s installment here.) Here at Tiny Mix Tapes, mixtapes are like Halloween handouts, which is to say we recommend continual and regular consumption of sweets, sours, and suckers balanced by physical activities including but not limited to picking and carving, taking long walks, and watching so many scary movies it becomes physically tasking. To wit, my list for the month so far includes: The Omen (1976), Damien: Omen II (1978), Omen III: The Final Conflict (1981), Season of the Witch (1972), The Man in the Orange Jacket (2014), Daughter of Horror (1955), Daybreakers (2009), Nightmare City (1980), Fear X (2003), The Town that Dreaded Sundown (1976), Shock (1946), Shock (1977), The Stuff (1985), Santa Sangre (1989), Neon Demon (2016), The Lost Boys (1987), and The Skeleton Key (2005). Therein, as below, audiences can discover numerous tricks and treats. It is, of course, our privilege to help pass along both as they’re equally essential, like ODB would say, “for the children.” And speaking of the little ones, let us not gloss over this month without acknowledging that it somehow brought out releases by no less than seven (!) established “Lil” rappers: B, Baby, Gnar, Jay So Icy, Mosey, Tracy and Xelly. “The horror!” –Samuel Diamond --- Illingsworth - You’re No Fun [DOWNLOAD/STREAM] Swerve past the skeptics and you’ll find that there still are scythe-tongued rappers and producers beholden to the unseen funk. Although rapper-producers are not rare, there are few today who manage such a fluid blend of sway and spitfire as my latest chiropractor, the Detroit-bred Illingsworth. While known mostly for his beats, the plunderer can kick some nerdy flex raps too; he was nonchalantly sipping on lemonade in a pirate’s fit, while you were busy teething on cockroaches. On his latest opal with Mello Music Group, You’re No Fun, Illingsworth’s pearly bounce is as live as ever. The lasting sapphire in the mix might just be “Wind (No Clues),” a “Love’s Gonna Get’cha”-esque ode to a young have-not, searching for a path where shards of systemic violence won’t sink into the soles. In the grubby fists of a lesser MC, the concept might ring out as corny. But in the studious grasp of Illingsworth, it feels as if the ghosts of SV sprinkled steez over construction gravel to help the whole damn thing glisten. –Cirrus Slump --- Kodie Shane - Stay Tuned … [STREAM] Some two years after stealing the show on the Sailing Team’s “All In,” Kodie Shane’s just about ready for her close-up. Young Heartthrob, her full-length debut, drops early November, meaning that Stay Tuned … is the last in a long line of EPs by which she has built a fanbase and a reputation, (mostly) escaping Lil Yachty’s shadow and establishing herself as an artist who deserves a spotlight of her own. Packed front-to-back with brand-name features, Stay Tuned … scans as a set of songs too pedestrian for the album but too expensive to discard entirely, less interesting for Rich the Kid’s continued interrogation of the phrase “dat way!” than for the promising glimpse it provides into Shane’s musical development since last year’s Back From the Future. I can’t imagine listening to this once Young Heartthrob is out, but I won’t be listening to anything else until then. –Corrigan B. --- MihTy - MihTy [STREAM] Here you have it folks: the long-rumored, widely-anticipated eponymous collab between the foremost crooners in hip-hop. That’s right — Jeremih and Ty Dolla $ign have teamed up in true Rhythm-and-Blues Brothers fashion to give us MihTy, which apparently might have been completed as far back as 2017?? The original release was supposed to come August 2018, but, as happens so often these days, the drop date was pushed back to October. So, here we are! Dolla and ‘Mih apparently churned out some 60 songs in the studio, then picked out these 11 from said batch, which explains why this project doesn’t hit me as incredibly cohesive or focused on a particular idea, aside from, of course, romance, sex, and various forms of decadence. But if you know these two at all, that shouldn’t surprise you, and perhaps all that intimacy is exactly why you (and I) listen. It’s a solid and varied tape, with a good list of producers (exec. produced by Hitmaka, with appearances by Go Grizzly, Keyz, et al.) and suave harmonies. In a most satisfying way, it’s the tape I’d expect from the two — a wonderfully romantic, melodic, and smooth-hip-hop-R&B ditty to cuddle up with as the weather gets colder. –Alex Brown --- Bambu - Exrcising A Demon | Article 1 | A Few Left [DOWNLOAD/STREAM] Filipino-American California MC Bambu has been kicking bloody street soliloquies as far back as the early 2000s and even released a critically acclaimed full-length collaboration with L.A. rap royalty’s DJ Muggs in 2010. However, if there’s ever been a moment better suited for this particular audio document, it must have occurred in some alternate timeline, because Exrcising A Demon | Article 1 | A Few Left arrives at a juncture that demands more than ever for stories of American immigrants and their children and the struggles they share to be told plainly, without glorification, political comment, or other modes of curated re-contextualization. The truth, like humanity, is brutal, war-torn even, but above all else, necessary. And if this release is truly the first in a five-part series, as the Bandcamp page describes, then Bambu and OJ The Producer have set the bar incredibly high for themselves out the gate. Clearly, though, this is a matter of both exercising and exorcising, show-and-prove a given. –Samuel Diamond --- Shy Glizzy - Fully Loaded [STREAM] For a couple years now, the Washington Wizards have stood pat in free agency, keeping their roster’s core intact in order to develop their existing players rather than compromising their identity in pursuit of new ones. Their horrific start to the current season aside, it’s worked pretty well; the John Wall era has been one of consistent success, salad days not only for Wall, but also for a host of young stars under his tutelage: Bradley Beal, Otto Porter, and most recently Kelly Oubre. Yet in their consistency, the Wizards have raised questions about untapped potential, about complacency in the face of the consistently “pretty good,” and about who is really to blame for a series of failed attempts to integrate new play styles and personalities. Luckily, rap isn’t basketball. Probably. –Corrigan B. --- Lil B - Options [STREAM] –Lovebug --- Gangsta Boo & BeatKing - Underground Cassette Tape Music Vol. 2 [STREAM] Being a consumer of contemporary “rap” music in 2018 without recognizing Gangsta Boo is a privilege. As a member of Three 6 Mafia, she helped collapse geographical and aesthetic distinctions between Southern rap, experimental horrorcore, and radio music without burying Memphis signifiers in common ground. Her new mixtape with Houston-hailing BeatKing is a conservation of both artists’ distinct regional styles, revealing by way of phonogeographical survey just how deep trap’s roots go. Fortunately, Underground Cassette Tape Music Vol. 2 is also a banger in its own right, reminding Migos fans why this historical primrose path was worth nourishing and following. Plus, remember Paul Wall, Danny Brown, and RiFF RAFF? They’re all on this, too. It’s a scary good time, so fly that you won’t even remember they’ve been doing this since before I could talk. If there ever were a laurel-draped whip, this whole crew has scrapped it for a brand new ride. And it bumps as hard as everything before it. –Jazz Scott --- D Savage - D Phoenix [STREAM] I’m not entirely sure where D Savage came from, but “a neural network trained on 10,000 Soundcloud rappers” isn’t out of the question. Yet amidst opaque mythology — “3900,” “2700,” and a dozen variations of “Phoenix” reappear endlessly across songs and IG captions — and thoroughly ambiguous authorship, there’s an undeniable grasp of melody that refuses to be ignored. As often as not, it’s a mere moment; “What You Want” justifies its existence on the strength of half a hook alone. And that’s more than enough: with tracks rarely exceeding two minutes, D Savage’s best work is so immediate that it can’t even begin to wear out its welcome before its time to rewind. There’s little here that warrants repeated listens, but what sticks will be looping in my mind for months on end. –Corrigan B. http://j.mp/2RmZRpo

[metroidspeedrun]

200 questions omg

Holy fuck200: My crush’s name is: Erik199: I was born in: 1998 in Sacramento198: I am really: Weird197: My cellphone company is: T Mobile196: My eye color is: Dark Brown195: My shoe size is: 8.5194: My ring size is: 6.5 I think?193: My height is: 5’3192: I am allergic to: Nothing191: My 1st car was: N/A190: My 1st job was: Nanny189: Last book you read: Everything Everything (It has been months, it’s sad ik)188: My bed is: V big187: My pet: N/A186: My best friend: Um idk I mean probs you ig lol jk it you185: My favorite shampoo is: I have no idea184: Xbox or ps3: Xbox183: Piggy banks are: Cute but inefficient in today’s economy182: In my pockets: Nothing181: On my calendar: The date for my date and the hours I’ve worked180: Marriage is: Cool if you’re into that sort of thing179: Spongebob can: Be funny sometimes???178: My mom: Is cool sometimes??177: The last three songs I bought were? Hahaha nope176: Last YouTube video watched: Top 10 criminally underrated cartoons175: How many cousins do you have? Hella174: Do you have any siblings? 10173: Are your parents divorced? Nope172: Are you taller than your mom? Nope171: Do you play an instrument? Nope170: What did you do yesterday? Worked 2 shifts [ I Believe In ]169: Love at first sight: Nah not really168: Luck: Sorta167: Fate: Yes and no166: Yourself: Hahaha yikes that took a turn, I guess I do??165: Aliens: A little bit164: Heaven: Sort of but also not163: Hell: Yes162: God: Yes but like in an unorthodox sort of way161: Horoscopes: Astrology yes but the whole future-predicting part no160: Soul mates: Yes159: Ghosts: No158: Gay Marriage: Yuppp157: War: Nope156: Orbs: In what sense?155: Magic: Yes[ This or That ]154: Hugs or Kisses: Kisses 153: Drunk or High: High152: Phone or Online: Online151: Red heads or Black haired: Dark hair 150: Blondes or Brunettes: Blondes149: Hot or cold: Cold148: Summer or winter: Winter147: Autumn or Spring: Autumn146: Chocolate or vanilla: Chocolate145: Night or Day: Day144: Oranges or Apples: Oranges143: Curly or Straight hair: Curly142: McDonalds or Burger King: McDonalds141: White Chocolate or Milk Chocolate: Milk chocolate140: Mac or PC: Mac139: Flip flops or high heals: Heels138: Ugly and rich OR sweet and poor: Sweet and poor137: Coke or Pepsi: Coke136: Hillary or Obama: Obama135: Burried or cremated: Cremated134: Singing or Dancing: Dancing133: Coach or Chanel: Neither132: Kat McPhee or Taylor Hicks: Who?131: Small town or Big city: Small town130: Wal-Mart or Target: Target129: Ben Stiller or Adam Sandler: Ben Stiller128: Manicure or Pedicure: Pedicure127: East Coast or West Coast: West coast126: Your Birthday or Christmas: Christmas125: Chocolate or Flowers: Flowers124: Disney or Six Flags: Disney123: Yankees or Red Sox: Neither I hate baseball[ Here’s What I Think About ]122: War: Shitty, like use your fucking words no one has to die what the fuck is your problem121: George Bush: Bleh120: Gay Marriage: Yes119: The presidential election: Disgusting118: Abortion: Not my body, not my business117: MySpace: I had one when everyone had just stopped using it116: Reality TV: Dumb, women come on tv to be objectified and treated like overly-dramatic, catty, snakes115: Parents: They can be ok sometimes114: Back stabbers: Irrelevant to me at this point113: Ebay: Never heard of her112: Facebook: I use it to check on my ex when I miss him sometimes111: Work: Keeps me alive110: My Neighbors: Don’t know them at all109: Gas Prices: Too high, please lower them108: Designer Clothes: Unnecessary, if it’s over $25 chances are I don’t want it107: College: I can’t wait to go back106: Sports: Hockey is good, I like superbowl halftime shows105: My family: They’re okay104: The future: I have the next few years roughly planned out[ Last time I ]103: Hugged someone: Um at pride 102: Last time you ate: 4 hours ago101: Saw someone I haven’t seen in awhile: At pride100: Cried in front of someone: January 12th99: Went to a movie theater: It was for work and like 2 months ago98: Took a vacation: I was 797: Swam in a pool: Never, can’t swim96: Changed a diaper: Never95: Got my nails done: 1 year ago94: Went to a wedding: 12 years ago this October93: Broke a bone: Never92: Got a peircing: 16 years ago91: Broke the law: Um a few weeks ago probably jaywalking but it’s whatevs90: Texted: Yesterday[ MISC ]89: Who makes you laugh the most: Probs you tbh88: Something I will really miss when I leave home is: Sleep87: The last movie I saw: IWTV86: The thing that I’m looking forward to the most: Getting paid85: The thing im not looking forward to: Waking up at 5 tomorrow84: People call me: Little Foot83: The most difficult thing to do is: Stay asleep all night82: I have gotten a speeding ticket: No81: My zodiac sign is: Leo sun80: The first person i talked to today was: My mom79: First time you had a crush: I was 878: The one person who i can’t hide things from: You77: Last time someone said something you were thinking: Not in a while76: Right now I am talking to: No one75: What are you going to do when you grow up: Grow old74: I have/will get a job: I have a job73: Tomorrow: I have work again72: Today: I took a nap71: Next Summer: I will take more naps70: Next Weekend: I will try to take a nap69: I have these pets: N/A68: The worst sound in the world: Fire alarms67: The person that makes me cry the most is: My grandma but like that’s a natural response I think66: People that make you happy: You, Zoey, my boys, my sons, Maddie, and my boss 65: Last time I cried: Probably yesterday I can’t remember lol64: My friends are: All fucking great63: My computer is: Smol62: My School: Is old but nice61: My Car: N/A60: I lose all respect for people who: Say the ‘f’ word59: The movie I cried at was: IWTV58: Your hair color is: Dark brown bc it’s been less sunny 57: TV shows you watch: Gotham, Born This Way, Intervention, Stitchers, Andi Mack56: Favorite web site: Twitter55: Your dream vacation: Somewhere where I can sleep in a chair that vibrates54: The worst pain I was ever in was: When my back swelled and I had to go to the emergency room53: How do you like your steak cooked: Not at all lol52: My room is: Organized chaos51: My favorite celebrity is: Atm Kehlani50: Where would you like to be: In a massage chair but not an agressive one49: Do you want children: Yes48: Ever been in love: Yes47: Who’s your best friend: You46: More guy friends or girl friends: Equal amount tbh45: One thing that makes you feel great is: Long rides44: One person that you wish you could see right now: Literally all my friends at once43: Do you have a 5 year plan: Yes42: Have you made a list of things to do before you die: No41: Have you pre-named your children: Maybe40: Last person I got mad at: Matthew probs39: I would like to move to: A sleepy lil town somewhere38: I wish I was a professional: Social worker[ My Favorites ]37: Candy: Spicy paletas36: Vehicle: Station Wagons35: President: N/A, I think they were all lw bad34: State visited: Nevada33: Cellphone provider: T Mobile ig32: Athlete: Nah31: Actor: Larenz Tate30: Actress: Carey Mulligan29: Singer: Fuckin um… Christina Aguilera28: Band: MCR27: Clothing store: SheIn26: Grocery store: WinCo25: TV show: Finding Carter (1st season)24: Movie: IWTV atm23: Website: Twitter22: Animal: Elephant or giraffe21: Theme park: Idk never been20: Holiday: Earth Day19: Sport to watch: Hockey18: Sport to play: Tennis17: Magazine: Teen Vogue16: Book: 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea15: Day of the week: Monday, Friday, Saturday14: Beach: Idk never been, can’t swim13: Concert attended: N/A12: Thing to cook: Chili11: Food: Vegan orange chicken10: Restaurant: Anna’s Vegan Cafe9: Radio station: 103.58: Yankee candle scent: Death lol idk7: Perfume: White citrus6: Flower: Stargazer lily5: Color: Sage green, pastel yellow, dusty rose4: Talk show host: N/A3: Comedian: Baron Vaughn or Ron Funches2: Dog breed: I love all dogs but pitbulls 1: Did you answer all these truthfully? Yeah I think so