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thethousandyearwitch · 4 years ago

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The Show Must Go On! Chap. 7

- A Youtuber AU you didn’t want and didn’t need -

Hisoka Morrow, italian Makeup Youtuber, enjoys his life in the comfort and occasional drama of his profession. But nothing brings more drama into his life than the eldest son of the Zoldyck fashion magazine empire.

Meanwhile, aspiring australian Twitch Streamer Gon Freecs forms a special bond to a Speedrunner commonly going by "Kil".

Chapter 7 “Montero” out now!

AO3 Link

What could be worse than taking care of a teenage boy who is developing a steady video game addiction?

There was a loud bang coming from the room above the kitchen, followed by laughter and cackling. The boys were in Gons room and tried their hardest to set up the sleeping cod. They refused help, naturally, convinced that they are just as capable, confidence heightened by being in each other’s presence, hyping each other up, and the consumption of their own body weight in burgers.

Another bang. A shriek. More laughter. Mito sighed so deeply that she feared a piece of her soul might have left her.

Taking care of TWO teenage boys who are developing a steady video game addiction.

Her phone vibrated with a new message. Gon had sent her a selfie of himself and Killua on the cot, which seemed to be standing securely. The boys were flexing their arm muscles (or lack thereof) with proud looks on their faces, and the only caption was “#success”. Well, at least they are having fun.

Bellissimo<3: Good morning. I am going to pick you up at 1pm, be dressed by then, and pack your bag for tonight’s show. We are going for a brief detour.

Hisoka stretched out on his bed and squinted at the too-bright phone screen. It was 10 in the morning, though the rooms curtains were drawn shut tightly as a defence against harsh sunlight. A lazy smile spread on his lips.

Hisoka: Are we finally running away together to get married in Las Vegas? I thought you’d never ask~~❤️

Bellisssimo<3: I am trying to reward you for not getting arrested last night.

Bellissimo<3: Do not make me regret this.

Hisoka: I should avoid getting arrested more often ❤️

Bellissimo<3: 1pm Hisoka. See you then.

Hisoka let his phone drop back into pillow-mountain. This was certainly an interesting surprise, and an opportunity that the make up artist wasn’t going to waste. Getting One-on-One time with the Zoldyck was something precious and rare to him. Because Illumi was a rarity himself. In a world of increasingly bland and repetitive personalities, especially in his field of work, Illumi presented a challenge of raw potential. Cold and calculated to the masses, an obedient dog to his family, a revolutionary in his work. Hisoka knew that he must be hiding so much more, and the more walls he encountered with the man, the more he wanted to tear them down with his bare hands. Hisoka hated calling whatever this was a ‘Crush’. Sure, he was affectionate towards the other man, and at this point he couldn’t deny the pleasant twist of his heart whenever they touched. But he didn’t yearn for lazy Sundays in bed together, didn’t want the peaceful domesticity that seemed to be inherited in being a ‘couple’.

What do I want?

Hisoka pulled himself out of bed, and made his way to the shower, determined to abandon this pesky train of thought. There was no point in pondering the unlikely. Though… Illumi had been indulging him. And he was going to indulge him again this day. Maybe he wasn’t the only one getting soft, even if neither would ever admit it. The thought brought another satisfied smirk to his lips as he massaged his favourite shampoo into his scalp.

He wondered how Illumis family would react, hypothetically, if they were to end up a couple. The eldest son of the Zoldycks, not just gay, but in a relationship with a makeup artist who is famous for starting drama whenever possible. They certainly would be a more feared and adored couple than if Illumi were to marry some busty heiress who hooks up with her tennis coach when he’s away.

Silva Zoldyck would drop dead right on the spot if Hisoka would ask him if he should call him dad, he was sure.

He stepped out of the steamy shower and mustered his refreshed face in the mirror. Maybe that’s all he wanted. To form something with Illumi that would be even more powerful than the Zoldyck empire, to make everyone else envy/fear/adore them. They had the capacity and the ability to do so, no doubt.

Or maybe he just wanted to have something he wasn’t supposed to have.

Hisoka shrugged to himself, before he went over his usual beauty routine. Today could prove very interesting.

12:45 pm, Hisoka leaned on his kitchen island, absentmindedly scrolled through social media to beat time. Illumi wasn’t going to be late, but he’s never been early either.

He decided to go with a casual look, fitted beige khakis, with an oxford blue button up, sleeves rolled up just above his elbows, debated with himself on how far unbuttoned would be appropriate-yet-slutty (Top 3 Buttons unbuttoned, was the conclusion). Under his eyes, rested on his cheekbones, he had painted his signature star and teardrop, eyebrows plucked to perfection, and after 10 tries he managed to get a satisfying cat eye done. It was perfectly normal to want to look like hell on wheels while meeting with your friend-partner-associate-crush-insertsatisfactoryterm.

The afternoons were always the worst time to check social media, the calm before the posting-storm that comes during the evening and night. Hisoka had already reached posts that were done last night, a few screenshots taken here and there for future reference and roasting purposes.

Almost fed up with endless scrolling, suddenly it appeared. Hisoka had followed a twitch streamer on twitter recently, some kid who was definitely going to screw up in some point of his career (they always do, when the fame gets to their heads), and didn’t want to miss that mess. “Foxbeargaming”, what the fuck is even a foxbear, he had thought.

He had seen the brat before, in his profile picture and clips of his streams. But that wasn’t the problem with the newly posted selfie.

The problem was that he also recognized the second brat in it. Remembered the way Illumi boasted about his talented little brother, the same wild hair and blue eyes as he showed him a picture of the kid. Killua Zoldyck is currently in the middle of nowhere Australia, and his family most likely doesn’t know about it.

Oh, this will be delicious.

Hisokas day had been upgraded from surprisingly interesting to extremely entertaining if everything were to go smoothly. Immediately revealing to Illumi before their date that his little brother is out in the desert trying to tame himself a boyfriend wouldn’t do either of them good. Let it simmer, let it fester, keep Illumi away from his phone the rest of the day.

Lost in his scheming, he just barely noticed that the clock hit 1pm. He grabbed his bag from the floor and stuffed his phone into his back pocket before he headed out the door.

Hisoka wasn’t sure what he expected, yet he was taken aback by the sight in front of him as he exited the apartment complex.

Illumi leaned leisurely against a black sports car, as if that were his only purpose in life. His sleek hair was tied into a neat ponytail, eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses. Hisoka let his eyes take in every detail of him. Peridot green jeans, fashionably washed out, paired with a simple grey polo shirt, the collar popped open just enough to reveal more neck than usual.

“Are you waiting on an invitation?” Illumi didn’t sound as agitated as he probably intended, giving Hisoka only more reason to push his luck.

“I was thinking about whether I want to pounce on you now or later.” He approached the other man, who in turn straightened up his posture in defence. But instead of any hostile movements, Hisoka simply took Illumis hand, and bought it to his lips for a caste kiss. “But I’d rather not spoil our date this early.”

Illumi pulled his hand away, though maybe with a second’s hesitation. “Not happening, also not a date. Get in the car before I change my mind.”

The car was equipped with fabric seats, which Hisoka was grateful for in the Italian heat. “Maybe I should film one of those Vlogs today, what do you think of the title ‘Partner takes me away for secret date’?”

“What about ‘Multimillionaire kicked me out of a speeding car’?”

“Touché.” Now Hisoka was sure that his companion had to be in a good mood, despite what he’d claim, he’d never go along with his jokes if he were feeling neutral-to-pissed otherwise. He rolled his shoulders back into the seat comfortably, golden eyes fixated on the way that Illumis elegant pale hands wrapped around the steering wheel. “I didn’t know you can drive, considering you always have someone to do it for you.”

“I prefer it over flying, and I still consider myself a better driver than half of our staff.”

“I’m sure you’re great at handling stick shift as well.”

“Of co-“Illumi pressed his lips together in sudden annoyance, he most definitely had caught onto Hisokas smirk as he waited for an answer. “That is repulsive.” That prompted the makeup artist to break out into self-satisfied snickering.

“No clue what you’re talking about, Tesoro.” This earned him an eye roll, and silence as the car made its way through mostly empty streets. Hisokas eyes fell onto Illumis phone that rested on the console of the car. “Ah, I’m sure mister multimillionaire has Spotify Premium, right? Let me turn on some music.”

“Use your own phone.”

“I ran out of data volume. Are you that afraid I’ll discover your disastrous music taste?” His teasing smirk was met with another, more defeated eyeroll and a sigh.

“Don’t play anything trashy. The passcode is 0707.” After a questioning silence, he added “It’s Killuas birthday.”

Hisoka replied with an appreciative purr, before he started scrolling through the others music library. No personal playlists, not even a profile picture attached to his account. He was almost offended at the man’s lack of care for something as deeply personal as ones Spotify account, something that surely could tell a lot about a person. “Tchaikovsky? I’m not sure if I am impressed or utterly bored. Oh-“ His eyes stopped on a familiar album cover. “Maybe you’re not a lost cause after all, dear.”

A button press later, and the familiar opening sounds to Tame Impalas “Currents” played. The faintest trace of a smile curled on Illumis lips, barely noticeable, but Hisoka wanted to burn it into his mind anyway. Never mind that he took the brief distraction to turn the others phone onto silent mode. No unnecessary distractions.

It took the rest of the album until Illumi pulled the car into the exit towards the nature reserve near Lago di Bracciano, the last notes of “New Person, Same old Mistakes” dying together with the engine as they parked.

Hisoka stretched at the warm sunlight that caressed his skin when he exited the vehicle. Birds sang happily in the trees that lined the path around the large lake, and the only other person in sight was an elderly woman walking a small white dog. As the second car door shut close, he turned around with a pleased smile that showed off his shining teeth. “I never took you for the kind to take afternoon strolls.”

His friend-or-whatever set a relaxed pace onto the path and looked out onto the deep blue water. “I can’t sit around the hotel room the entire day, can I? And Rome is crawling with sweaty tourists and noisy journalists.”

“So you wanted to get some quality time outside?” Hisoka absentmindedly ran his tongue over his own sharp incisors.

“Correct.” Illumi didn’t seem to notice, or at least ignored, the predatory gesture.

“With me.”

He missed a beat before a simple, “It seemed appropriate.”.

This earned him an appreciative purr, before the men walked in silence along the large lake. Italy still wouldn’t reach its heights of temperatures this time of year, but any breeze was still a welcomed change from the rising humidity and sting of the sun. Hisoka wondered how much the others pale skin would change if he’d expose himself for a bit longer to the sun, if he’d immediately burn up in red, or if he’d start to tan, even just the faintest bit. He’d definitely look more alive, less like a puppet on invisible strings.

They continued to walk in a comfortable silence next to each other, took in the different sounds and sights of nature and the others presence, until eventually they reached the border of one of the shore towns. Beautiful stone buildings climbed the side of a smaller hill, only interrupted by greenery sprouting up between them. The main path was lined with flower shops, cafes, and Gelateria, whose smells mixed into a pleasant sweetness in the air. But one store in particular stood out. It wasn’t super flashy, it could have been found in any city and any street, but Hisoka knew this one from memory.

Without hesitation, he grabbed the others hand, effectively stopping him in his tracks.

“Excuse me-“ Before he could free his hand, Hisoka intertwined their fingers and pulled him closer.

“Let me treat you to something as well, I promise you won’t regret it,amore.” As his flaming eyes were met with a wrinkled nose, the sunshades Illumi were as not-telling as his eyes, he added “If you do regret it, I’ll gladly let you drown me right here.”

There was hesitation as the other mans wrist twitched against his hold. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

The absence of a struggle was still taken as accepting whatever had gotten him so excited, and thus Illumi was quickly pulled and seated outside the small café. Hisokas attitude had changed from a lazy yet scheming happiness, to pure, unfiltered excitement. It became almost impossible for him to sit still, he rapidly tapped his fingernails against the small glass table, until a waitress (in her mid-40s, he assumed) stepped out. She handed the men a small, leather bound menu, though both were immediately snatched by Hisoka and held back towards her.

“Non sarà necessario. Ordineremo la Cheesecake alla fragola. Grazie.”

“Certamente.” The woman replied with a smile, before she retreated into the shop.

“Cheesecake?” Illumi asked with a raised eyebrow, he had taken off his sunglasses by now and placed them on the table.

Hisoka tutted, “Not any Cheesecake, dear, it is the best Cheesecake you will ever have. I will have it at my wedding, funeral, and every occasion in between that.”

“I take it you’ve been here before.”

“When I had just moved to Rieti, I’d come here almost every weekend, though I unfortunately stopped when weekends became workdays as well.” He considered carefully how much more he was willing to share about that time of his life with the other, though the decision was taken off him as the waitress approached with two plates, each adorned with a generous slice of cheesecake, topped with strawberry slices and strawberry jam dripping off it.

His jaw clenched in anticipation as he watched Illumi take the first bite of the cake, reminiscent of all the rituals he’d do for him whenever he visited. It felt degrading to admit that he wanted to impress and gain the approval of the Zoldyck, but not degrading enough to stop the attention seeking behaviour.

A bite. Some careful chewing. Averted eyes because Hisoka was staringbut he did not care. He swallowed.

Illumi didn’t look at him as he spoke, seemingly engrossed in studying the décor of the shop. But his eyes betrayed him, Hisoka swore he saw something within the dark orbs glisten and flash to life. He didn’t know people could smile only with their eyes, but Illumi continued to be different in the most intoxicating way. “It’s… really good.”

Hisoka tried hard not to pick up his train of thought from the morning, tried not to think about what he wanted from Illumi or a relationship, and he especially tried not to think about the growing urge to leap across the table at that very moment to kiss him until their lips were sore. Instead, he started to eat his own cake, and failed to supress his sharpened smile.

They ate mostly in silence, safe for Hisokas muffled crazed snickering, and ordered espresso to chase down the thick cake.

“Hey, let’s play a game. What is wrong with that woman over there?” Hisoka pointed at a blonde who rested against a railing near the lake.

Illumi seemed to consider for a second whether he even wanted to play a weird game like that, before he stopped mid espresso-sip. “Ah. Those red heels are obviously spray-painted on.”

“Bingo~! It’s super obvious, right? You can still see the black shine through.”

“I’m more concerned about the uneven stitching on her shirt. Either she did that herself, or she has gotten scammed.”

Somehow that conversation triggered them to analyse the fashion choices of every stranger they encountered on their way back to the car with increasingly devilish tones. Illumi Zoldyck was a surprisingly good gossiper, and Hisoka filed that fact into the growing corner of his brain that he reserved just for him.

In the car, Illumi informed him they would just head to his hotel room to get dressed for the show, and then head there together. Any attempt at a joke about spending hotel-room-time wisely was, expectedly, cut off.

Illumi had never focused on the road this much in his entire life. He tried to be grateful that they had managed to get ready for the show in his hotel room without any major incidents, but now Hisoka was seated next to him again, wearing the suit he made for him. He looked good, annoyingly so. Naturally, Illumi wouldn’t grant him the satisfaction of telling him that though. He had indulged the man plenty enough for that day already and was holding back from chastising himself for it.

Last night had made him soft, Illumi decided. A brief waver of confidence and self-preservation that made him want to spend one-on-one time with Hisoka, in what may have resembled friendship to an outsider.

But his head was clearer now, cleansed from whatever foolishness had overcome him – the image of his mother recovering from a coughing fit and regaining her composure crept itself into his mind. Unrelated, he thought, though cleared his throat regardless.

“Machi says the crowd tonight is dreadful. Do you think she is just saying that to keep me from going~?” Hisoka tapped his long nails against the screen of his phone. Machi was a model they both have worked with in the past, though she was no where close to a breakthrough. A pretty face, objectively spoken, though smaller than most models, and the personality of royalty about to be executed. Do they always text each other?

“She’s there as well today?” He tried not to sound bitter. He didn’t have a reason to be bitter.

“Mhm, she’s modelling for a friend of hers it seems, though all the examples she sent me looked like someone with a priest-kink designed them, so it doesn’t hurt as much that she didn’t hire me as her artist.”

A moment of silence. “I see.” Illumi was not going to indulge Hisoka even more by inquiring about the nature of his relationship to the woman. It did not concern him; it wasn’t relevant to him or his work.

“Illumi?” Hisoka leaned over in his seat, golden eyes piercing into the side of his face.

“Yes, Hisoka?” Just now he noticed that he had been clenching his jaw uncomfortably.

“Are you jealous of Machi?” He didn’t need to look to know that Hisoka was smiling from one ear to the other, voice dripping with joy. He wasn’t going to look at Hisoka.

“You are insane. Why would I be jealous of her? I pity the girl, still having to work as a favour for acquaintances.”

Predatory eyes continued to drill into him, and a dangerous purr escaped the man, “Is that so?”.

“Yes, don’t be ridiculous.” They pulled into the valet line.

“Then you surely won’t mind that she’ll meet us in the entrance hall, wonderful!”

Illumi shouldn’t mind. It should be perfectly fine that instead of spending the evening alone with Hisoka, a good-looking young woman with an unclear relationship to him would meet them. He definitely couldn’t be jealous; it would be irrational and yet-

He threw the keys to the car at the valet and grabbed the number-marker without a word. His face wouldn’t give it away to others, that he was practically fuming, but Hisoka seemed to take pleasure in the subtle way that Illumis facial features tightened. “I heard jealousy can give you wrinkles~” Hisoka whispered cheekily as they approached the venue entrance, rows of reporters and interviewers lined at the sides, even more so than at the opening day before.

“You must have a lot of experience with that.” He hissed in reply and straightened his posture as they passed the crowd, mostly reporters who desperately tried to take pictures of attendees. Pictures, Interviews, all loathsome cries for attention that Illumi has always tried to avoid as much as possible without damaging the families reputation. He looked down the carpeted entrance and spotted the young woman known as Machi Komacine, clothed in a painfully tight black dress adorned with rosaries draped around her waist like belts, her messy pink hair pulled into a high ponytail. Her posture signalled boredom, but her eyes screamed murder.

Illumi was not a man who easily feared anyone, especially not a woman who stands at 5’2 proud; But he also was not necessarily thrilled to approach her. As he tried to hiss something in Hisokas direction again, something about not having much time to chat with their acquaintance due to meeting a client, he noticed: The other man had stayed behind, and was now busy posing for numerous cameras. Their eyes met, and with a mischievous grin, Hisoka held his hand out to beckon Illumi closer. For Pictures. Together.

Take pictures with Hisoka together in a public appearance that will most definitely set the gears of the rumour mill in motion; Or approach Machi alone and run the risk of uncomfortable conversation about our respective relationships to Hisoka?

He looked back at Machi, whose eyes met his instantly with a raised eyebrow. Fucking Hell-

Illumi made his way back to Hisoka, casually disregarded the hand that was held out to him and positioned himself as practiced – left arm leisurely to the side, right arm three quarters across his front. Not too strict, but not too relaxed either. In contrast, Hisoka had his left hand in the pocket of his suit, his right hand rested on Illumis shoulder as if were the most natural thing in the world. Journalists started to yell even more for their attention now, asking pesky questions that he tried to ignore, telling them to stand closer to each other, the likes. He kept the façade of his neutral face through the blinding flashes intact, even as Hisoka snaked his arms from his shoulder around his waist. “Do you wish for a public execution?”

“It looks better for the pictures~”

Illumi brushed a few strands of hairs behind his shoulder and used the motion to glance back to where Machi was waiting, her steady gaze on the two of them. “It’s rude to let her wait.”

“How considerate you are!” Hisoka snickered. “I know you aren’t jealous, caro, but I’d still like to reassure you of something.”

“And what’s that?”

“Machi and I look for, how should I say, very different things in a partner.” He tugged at Illumi waist and pulled him closer. “She’s looking for women and I am not.”

“Oh.” Illumi continued to look at the reporters cooing for their attention, as he tried not to think of the warm hand on his waist that felt searing hot and- Wait.

“OH.” He turned in Hisokas hold to properly look at him, who in turned grinned like the cat that ate the canary, then he looked back to Machi, and suddenly he felt stupid, which he didn’t experience a lot.

“Feeling relieved, even though you definitely weren’t jealous?”

“I think they got enough pictures.”

Illumi heard Hisokas snickering trail behind him as he made his way down the entrance. Machis eyes met his again, hands steady on her hips. Up closer now, he could observe the details of her dress, white seams stitched into crucifixes that crept up the sides, and the number “3” painted on every bead of the rosaries. It was cleanly executed, but Illumi was confident in the superiority of his own work.

“Miss Komacine.” He extended his hand to her, which she shook half-heartedly.

“Illumi. I’d like to get to business talk right away, so I don’t have to look at this clown longer than necessary.”

“Business talk?”

The young woman lit a cigarette for herself and shot a glare to Hisoka. “I assume you didn’t tell him I wanted to speak with him?” This granted her only a shrug and a smile from the man. “Fine, whatever. Illumi, I want to model for your next line, it would proof beneficial for both of us.”

“I don’t deal in women’s fashion. Furthermore, I do not see how I’d gain benefits from having you work for me.” Finally, a topic he felt comfortable to speak about, even it was only to criticize the woman for her awful attempt at business.

“I don’t mind wearing a suit, you should be at least competent enough to make smaller sizes, right?” She stepped closer to push a sharp index finger against his chest. “And about those benefits; Having me model for you would give me more exposure from a mainstream crowd, and thus exposure for my group. You would gain exposure to a wider audience of underground fashion-following, that isn’t influenced by your family’s name, meaning you could manifest a name for yourself. Unless you prefer being ‘a Zoldyck’ forever.”

The nerve. The audacity. Illumi considered just calling her a presumptuous cunt and leaving with his pride intact, but Machi looked like the kind of woman who knew how to slice car tires and break-wires.

A manicured hand curled around his shoulder, and Hisoka pushed himself between Machi and him. “What could be better than this; My two favourite people in this world, getting along, talking friendly business. Unfortunately, dear Machi, there’s some people inside that are dying to meet us tonight, so we’ll catch you later~”

Before he could object, Illumi was pushed through the entrance of the venue. The large runway was occupied by a high-end brand that premiered their women’s gala collection, mood-lighting engulfed the rest of the room, rhythmic beats of low music drowned out most of the talking crowd.

“Be a darling and just let her offer simmer a little. Machi can be very scary when she’s mad, and not in the way I enjoy.” Hisoka purred closer to his ear.

“Did you know she was going to ask?”

“What if I did?”

A waiter offered them drinks on a tray, and Illumi leisurely grabbed a glass of champagne.

“What does that even mean, ‘a Zoldyck’, as if it is something bad.”

“Don’t wreck your pretty head over it, you know how women are.” Hisoka laughed, and Illumi wasn’t sure how serious he meant that, considering that personally he had no idea how women are, and after newest revelations, neither did Hisoka.

But through the course of the night, Illumi couldn’t get it out of his head. He pretended not to notice how people approached Hisoka, addressed him by his name, first or full name, and talked with him about the content he has created, complimented on his most recent videos and looks. And he pretended not to notice how people approached him, addressed him only by his last name, and asked about the family business. “Mr. Zoldyck, are you going to write an article about this line?” “Mr. Zoldyck, about the next issue-“ “Mr. Zoldyck, tell my greetings to your father.”

No word about his own collection he had premiered. No one even uttered his first name.

He was ‘a Zoldyck’. Nothing more, nothing less.

“If looks could kill, we’d be ankle deep in a blood bath by now.” Hisoka snaked an arm around Illumis waist again and rested his hand on the tip of his hip. The designer took a long sip of the bitter champagne, casually slapped away the offending hand, and kept his dark eyes fixed on the crowd. “Still pouting because Machi was being a bully?”

“I am not pouting.”

“And you weren’t jealous either, got it~”

An eye roll, followed by “I have a headache, what’s the time anyway?” Illumi tried to reach for his phone in his pocket, though before he could grab it, Hisoka took hold of his wrist. They locked eyes, and even in the dim lighting of the venue, Illumi saw something wild glisten in those amber eyes. “Let’s leave, together, to my place.”

“Very subtle, Hisoka. I am not going to-”

“Indulge me, Tesoro, I want to show you something.” Determined to blame it on the repulsive atmosphere that had build itself up at the fashion show, Illumi let himself be swept away by Hisoka for the second time that day. The thought of getting away from noisy reporters and cockroaches of the industry who only knew him as the eldest Zoldyck.- former Heir to the empire, was pleasant enough, yet he also didn’t have to be alone and actively think about his reputation, name, and being a ‘lapdog’, technically a win-win situation.

The drive back to the apartment was oddly quiet, despite Hisokas prior excitement. The car tore through the dark night primarily in silence, only accented by the ‘The Velvet Underground’ album they agreed on after scrolling through Hisokas bizarre Spotify library. It definitely wasn’t the kind of music he was used to from the home he was raised in, didn’t fit between the classical music his mother used to play before her headaches made it impossible and the obscene noise music that Killua would play to trigger the same headaches.

“Could you check my messages for me?”

Hisoka hummed in response and grabbed the phone, manicured nails tapping on the screen, before dropping it unceremoniously back into the cup-holders. “Batteries dead.”

“That can’t be, I charged it before I went out this morning, the battery is supposed to hold for a minimum of 72 hours when idle.”

“Your dainty British batteries sometimes give out under Italian heat, invest in better engineering, and charge it at my place for now.”

“…This will better be worth the trouble.”

The streets of Rieti were expectantly empty, and Illumi parked the car right in front of the apartment (Was it a legal parking spot? Unlikely. But parking fines barely matter when seemingly half the world knows your families name.)

The stairs, the door, the entrance, Illumi knew all of these things about Hisokas apartment. “What is there to show me?”

“Patience. Come here~” Hisoka opened the doors to the balcony, white drapes gently tossed in the fresh breeze. The Zoldyck followed- with sceptical hesitation, but followed nonetheless.

He rested his hands on the railing, eyes turned sky-wards, a few strands of hair upset by the wind.

“If you took me here to just look at the stars, I’m not sure which one of us is the bigger fool.”

“Right, if we wanted to look at soon-to-be dead stars, we could have stayed at the show. But we’re not here for them. They are insignificant, always there to look at until one day they vanish and are forgotten. The real star of the show is over there.” He pointed a long nail at the night sky, and Illumi tried to follow where it pointed.

“The moon? Really?”

“Close, but also mundane and boring. Here- “Before Illumi could react, the strange man had placed their heads next to each other and started to correct Illumis position with a pointed yet gentle grip on his chin. “Look straight ahead.”

Just a little bit off to the left of the moon shone a star brighter than anything else, for a moment Illumi felt ridiculous for missing it.

“It’s Venus. Among all these long dead stars, she’s ever present, stands out the most, and is a rare sight to behold.”

“You took me away from the show to gaze at other planets?” Illumi turned towards the other man, suddenly all too aware of how close they were standing once again.

“I took you away from the show because no one there is capable of understanding your true potential. The way everyone there only sees you as an extension of your family is so infuriating, that it makes me want to ruin all their hopeless little dreams right in front their pitiful faces.” With a swift movement Hisoka had pinned the designer against the railing of the balcony. “You could crush all these people under your heel and make them beg for forgiveness. And there’s nothing I’d rather see than that.”

“I don’t need to make anyone beg, if I want something, I get it. It’s always been like that.” A cold thumb traced the line of his sharp chin, followed by a dark chuckle, and all of a sudden Illumi felt fatigued, all air leaving his lungs. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembers his mother recalling symptoms like that. It’s a sickness, nothing more nothing less.

“You get it because you’re a pretty show dog held on a short leash by your family.”

Fucking lapdog. The weight on his chest feels like it could crush his organs any second.

“I’m not asking you to bite the hand that feeds you. But I’d give everything to see what you could do if you were free of restraints.”

Feeling like he needed to hold onto anything, Illumi grabbed onto the back of the other man’s head, fingers buried in wild hair. “And why would you care so much? If you’re just trying to rile me up, there’s ways that don’t make me want to throw you off the balcony and watch your mangled body struggle for life.”

“It’s because you fascinate me, Illumi. You’re my Venus in a sea of dying stars. I want to observe you in all your glory as you outshine everyone else, in your full potential.”

“Who says I won’t crush you as well?” His fingers grasped harder on a few strands of hair. Everything in his body felt wrong, the way his skin was freezing all over, but searing hot wherever he made contact with the other man, the suffocating weight on his chest increased by the second, and in the back of his mind something about sickness echoes again.

They locked eyes, and just then Illumi noticed how close they truly were, Hisokas hot breath falling onto his lips.

And he should have pushed him away.

Should have slapped him, insulted him like the sorry maggot he was.

But he felt weak and sick and so cold, and Hisoka radiated pure heat.

Their lips met, softer than expected of either of them, and Illumi wondered if this is what it feels like to be saved from drowning.

A pleasant warmth seeped into his body, and his lungs felt weightless, like he could breathe for the first time in his life.

Hisoka kissed like each touch might be the last, and Illumi let himself be guided as he wanted, eventually wrapping his arms around the others neck, eager to steal as much of this intoxicating heat as possible.

The man kissed along his jawline, stopping just barely below his ear. “Stay here tonight, cuore mio.”

And Illumi placed a kiss to his temple, as gentle as a man who was never been taught gentleness with people could manage. “Let’s go inside.”

#hxh fanfic #hisoillu #killugon #hxh #hisoka marrow #illumi zoldyck #killua zoldyck #gon freecss #mito freecss #machi komachine #fanfic #fanfiction #I continue to have the worst update schedule known to man <3

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sugar-petals · 5 years ago

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:: BTS ◇ Being Their Werewolf Girlfriend

NOTE › @.btsxdoll reblogged a ‘where are the female werewolves in fantasy?’ post which inspired this. enjoy ♡

↳ warnings 🌙 dom/sub, smut, angst, marking, dash of humor

[ jimin ] ➝ He definitely knows that catchy Shakira song, even the Spanish version. But what a real she-wolf roaming his garden at 3 AM ends up being like will blow his mochi mind. Oh yes. It really is a whole new world. And holy shit, you are one hell of a gnarling beast on that lawn. Jimin will be honest with you: If he could, he’d probably brag on twitter all day that you have gigantic claws. That he’s allowed to touch them when you aren’t particularly wilding out somewhere in the local forest scratching pine trees or off to hang out with a fifteen-member, cigarette-smoking ghoul gang.

But since it’s classified who you are, no tweets allowed. Sadly, he can’t meet the cool ghouls either. For obvious reasons though, he’d be too tasty a dinner, and he understands that you want to protect him. It’s already hard on you to have a kind of parallel life far from your control. Something so covert, scary, and taboo. Mingling with dangerous cemetary creatures for a night, only to return to a completely normal life. As if nothing happened! But cordial Jimin reassures you. Doesn’t make a hidden werewolf identity make someone the most interesting person ever? He couldn’t be a better boyfriend.

[ taehyung ] ➝ It’s no secret that sweet Tae loves everything fluffy. The boy can’t lie, he likes your fur and muzzle. Every time you transform, he even keeps a diary entry on it. Keenly documenting everything he observes from characteristics to variations of behavior depending on the environment. You really could say he’s a werewolf biologist. He even discovers that if you eat red cabbage the with the moon waning, the transformation happens a lot faster than usual. Seriously, who could be better at dealing with any canine activity — large-scale, small-scale — than dog lover Taehyung.

What he’s scared of and prevents a lot of cuddles are your, um, well. Huge dripping fangs and a bite force of five-hundred pounds per square inch to back it up. He has a reason to be careful. However, you’d rather devour some random suburb animals even in your worst of moods. Yeontan excluded. He likes you. It’s fun communicating with him. The world is interesting through werewolf eyes, but since it’s only for one night or two, Yeontan’s perspective is even more interesting since his form is permanent. Rascal sure knows a lot of gossip that would otherwise have never seen the light of day.

[ jin ] ➝ Now, let’s set the record straight. If there’s one man on the face of this sordid planet who loves sizzling danger? It’s Worldwide Fearless on duty. Jin is the chosen one to have as a designated boyfriend. All his life he dreamed of eerie thrills like that, and it became true. Fate! The first night you were shocked to see your ears grow all fuzzy out of literal nowhere, but Jin knew he made the right dating choice. Your final form has the guy all fired up. He desperately wants to be bitten, growled at, paw-slapped, tossed around, walked on (!), licked head to toe. Long story short, he’s your #1 biggest were-fan.

But at the end of the day, no sexual feelings and acts involved. You’ve talked about that at length. To him, such conversations are normal, but which other couple ever talks about something as touchy. Jin would totally be a monster fucker if you weren’t completely beside yourself after transformation. So there is surely be no guarantee of what could happen. Especially with you being a very hungry lycanthrope raiding the basement. Which he neatly stocks up three days before the big event, and you can feast on it instead of turning this whole party into a literal “EatJin”. God forbid, you’d rather walk on him.

[ yoongi ] ➝ As cool as a cucumber. His mother raised a level-headed boy. When the moon is out there taking its monthly liberty to go off I guess, he sits on the porch with his phone’s lunar calendar and Rolex out, only waiting for shit to go down. Yes, he’s mastered all predictive methods. Sweet technology has made it easy for him. You always joke how Yoongi might as well open a ‘Were-Watching’ tourism business if the world were just a bit more open-minded and capitalism an ethical thing. Anyways. In the meantime, you’re busy hulking out in the cornfields and howling like there’s no tomorrow.

Usually coming back for breakfast, hornier than the local elks in heat. Still with all rabid instincts half active, ready to pounce on what smells so good lying in your bed without pajamas on. Yoongi thinks he’s just one lucky dude not just getting all marked up, but occasionally salivated on when he’s waking up. Normally, sex would end up casual, but post-transformation banging is guaranteed to be energetic and sweaty beyond what he believed was possible. Which guy has his girlfriend plant herself on top of him baring her teeth like, well yeah, a fucking wolf? And he thought life would be endlessly boring.

[ hoseok ] ➝ When you first approach him with your secret five months into the relationship, he thinks that you want to act out some hybrid fanfiction or roleplay. You say no Hoseok, I really am, y’know, huge and a dangerous ball of fur once in a while. But to no avail. To him, out of sight, out of mind. The oddly not-like-you-but-actually-you-shaped footprints around the garage don’t convince him. Hell, even the two-day ‘mountain vacation’ you take every four weeks doesn’t make Hoseok question that something very wolfy could be going on. “A wolf? Just drop by then!” he says, all nonchalant.

So it takes the big wolf lady to knock on his window to prove that she’s not kidding and this is what he signed up for. He will take a while to digest things, reconsider his priorities. Is he prey, is he not? Tongue-in-cheek, you assure him that you only munch on the super built hikers who throw their trash into nature. You surely wouldn’t feel saturated eating a skinny guy. That does help Hoseok feel off limits in an unexpected way. There’s still much to get used to, but his chef talent can deal with your strong appetite surging every once in a while and he helps to remove the footprints so the neighbors don’t worry.

[ namjoon ] ➝ It’s like Fox Mulder seeing actual aliens land on earth. Hardly surprised. “Knew it!” is the final verdict when you confess to RM what’s going on. After some lightheaded pre-full-moon feelings make you rip up a sofa pillow at night. Entirely in a daze and pretty much close to howling already. Namjoon quickly understands the scope of peril and eventually opts for sleeping at Jimin’s if it gets a little too animalistic. Other than that, he’s well-informed. He might as well read ‘Mystic Creatures of Moderity′ in his favorite chair while you’re busy gnawing on a raw steak locking yourself in the kitchen.

Namjoon is happy to have something weird going on in his life to shake things up. It feels like a movie to him. Arguably, to others, it would be bizarre and both of you have to hide everything properly. Blasting funky disco music during your noisier transformations and such. Or pretending you’re a very well-crafted 3D robot Halloween costume which people do buy into. But some paranormal stuff happening in his backyard once a month? A whole lot of shed grey hair clogging the shower the day after transforming? Who gives a fuck, it’s just Joon’s girlfriend having a jolly good time. X-Files case closed.

[ jungkook ] ➝ Admittedly... a bit obsessed. With seeing your full eight feet tall incarnation, doing some unhinged shit out in the woods. That’s sexy. But JK is also caring — you’re hypersensitive to anything silver and most other human interference, after all. Sure, his scent has been up close for a long enough time not to trigger you anymore, even in your full wolven form. But there are still risks involved. The angel promises to stay by your side regardless. And indeed: He’s gonna camp in a raised blind with binoculars to watch over you in the forest moonlight. No zookeeper will get their hands on you, promised.

Jungkook really admires you in every aspect. No judgment. The animal enthusiast in him just can’t help it. Wolves in and of themselves are a huge interest to him, now he gets to know that you can grow paws, a tail and all that, the full package? Wow. He will never not be stunned. Jungkook wants to know everything about your kind. What you eat, how your heightened senses work, how you navigate your territory, what you feel. He also loves the thrill of adrenaline because boy do you go apeshit in the first couple hours of moonlight exposure. JK is a positive type of overwhelmed. The guy’s in love.

#bts #bts headcanons #bts scenarios #bts angst #bts x reader #bts imagines #bts fantasy au #bts reactions #original content

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arcticdementor · 4 years ago

Link

But police violence, and Trump’s daily assaults on the presidential competence standard, are only part of the disaster. On the other side of the political aisle, among self-described liberals, we’re watching an intellectual revolution. It feels liberating to say after years of tiptoeing around the fact, but the American left has lost its mind. It’s become a cowardly mob of upper-class social media addicts, Twitter Robespierres who move from discipline to discipline torching reputations and jobs with breathtaking casualness.

The leaders of this new movement are replacing traditional liberal beliefs about tolerance, free inquiry, and even racial harmony with ideas so toxic and unattractive that they eschew debate, moving straight to shaming, threats, and intimidation. They are counting on the guilt-ridden, self-flagellating nature of traditional American progressives, who will not stand up for themselves, and will walk to the Razor voluntarily.

They’ve conned organization after organization into empowering panels to search out thoughtcrime, and it’s established now that anything can be an offense, from a UCLA professor placed under investigation for reading Martin Luther King’s “Letter from a Birmingham Jail” out loud to a data scientist fired* from a research firm for — get this — retweeting an academic study suggesting nonviolent protests may be more politically effective than violent ones!

Now, this madness is coming for journalism. Beginning on Friday, June 5th, a series of controversies rocked the media. By my count, at least eight news organizations dealt with internal uprisings (it was likely more). Most involved groups of reporters and staffers demanding the firing or reprimand of colleagues who’d made politically “problematic” editorial or social media decisions.

…

In the most discussed incident, Times editorial page editor James Bennet was ousted for green-lighting an anti-protest editorial by Arkansas Republican Senator Tom Cotton entitled, “Send in the troops.”

I’m no fan of Cotton, but as was the case with Michael Moore’s documentary and many other controversial speech episodes, it’s not clear that many of the people angriest about the piece in question even read it. In classic Times fashion, the paper has already scrubbed a mistake they made misreporting what their own editorial said, in an article about Bennet’s ouster.

…

As Cotton points out in the piece, he was advancing a view arguably held by a majority of the country. A Morning Consult poll showed 58% of Americans either strongly or somewhat supported the idea of “calling in the U.S. military to supplement city police forces.” That survey included 40% of self-described “liberals” and 37% of African-Americans. To declare a point of view held by that many people not only not worthy of discussion, but so toxic that publication of it without even necessarily agreeing requires dismissal, is a dramatic reversal for a newspaper that long cast itself as the national paper of record.

Incidentally, that same poll cited by Cotton showed that 73% of Americans described protecting property as “very important,” while an additional 16% considered it “somewhat important.” This means the Philadelphia Inquirer editor was fired for running a headline – “Buildings matter, too” – that the poll said expressed a view held by 89% of the population, including 64% of African-Americans.

…

The main thing accomplished by removing those types of editorials from newspapers — apart from scaring the hell out of editors — is to shield readers from knowledge of what a major segment of American society is thinking.

It also guarantees that opinion writers and editors alike will shape views to avoid upsetting colleagues, which means that instead of hearing what our differences are and how we might address those issues, newspaper readers will instead be presented with page after page of people professing to agree with one another. That’s not agitation, that’s misinformation.

The instinct to shield audiences from views or facts deemed politically uncomfortable has been in evidence since Trump became a national phenomenon. We saw it when reporters told audiences Hillary Clinton’s small crowds were a “wholly intentional” campaign decision. I listened to colleagues that summer of 2016 talk about ignoring poll results, or anecdotes about Hillary’s troubled campaign, on the grounds that doing otherwise might “help Trump” (or, worse, be perceived that way).

…

All these episodes sent a signal to everyone in a business already shedding jobs at an extraordinary rate that failure to toe certain editorial lines can and will result in the loss of your job. Perhaps additionally, you could face a public shaming campaign in which you will be denounced as a racist and rendered unemployable.

…

Even people who try to keep up with protest goals find themselves denounced the moment they fail to submit to some new tenet of ever-evolving doctrine, via a surprisingly consistent stream of retorts: fuck you, shut up, send money, do better, check yourself, I’m tired and racist.

…

Each passing day sees more scenes that recall something closer to cult religion than politics. White protesters in Floyd’s Houston hometown kneeling and praying to black residents for “forgiveness… for years and years of racism” are one thing, but what are we to make of white police in Cary, North Carolina, kneeling and washing the feet of Black pastors? What about Nancy Pelosi and Chuck Schumer kneeling while dressed in “African kente cloth scarves”?

There is symbolism here that goes beyond frustration with police or even with racism: these are orgiastic, quasi-religious, and most of all, deeply weird scenes, and the press is too paralyzed to wonder at it. In a business where the first job requirement was once the willingness to ask tough questions, we’ve become afraid to ask obvious ones.

On CNN, Minneapolis City Council President Lisa Bender was asked a hypothetical question about a future without police: “What if in the middle of the night, my home is broken into? Who do I call?” When Bender, who is white, answered, “I know that comes from a place of privilege,” questions popped to mind. Does privilege mean one should let someone break into one’s home, or that one shouldn’t ask that hypothetical question? (I was genuinely confused). In any other situation, a media person pounces on a provocative response to dig out its meaning, but an increasingly long list of words and topics are deemed too dangerous to discuss.

The media in the last four years has devolved into a succession of moral manias. We are told the Most Important Thing Ever is happening for days or weeks at a time, until subjects are abruptly dropped and forgotten, but the tone of warlike emergency remains: from James Comey’s firing, to the deification of Robert Mueller, to the Brett Kavanaugh nomination, to the democracy-imperiling threat to intelligence “whistleblowers,” all those interminable months of Ukrainegate hearings (while Covid-19 advanced), to fury at the death wish of lockdown violators, to the sudden reversal on that same issue, etc.

It’s been learned in these episodes we may freely misreport reality, so long as the political goal is righteous. It was okay to publish the now-discredited Steele dossier, because Trump is scum. MSNBC could put Michael Avenatti on live TV to air a gang rape allegation without vetting, because who cared about Brett Kavanaugh – except press airing of that wild story ended up being a crucial factor in convincing key swing voter Maine Senator Susan Collins the anti-Kavanaugh campaign was a political hit job (the allegation illustrated, “why the presumption of innocence is so important,” she said). Reporters who were anxious to prevent Kavanaugh’s appointment, in other words, ended up helping it happen through overzealousness.

…

The traditional view of the press was never based on some contrived, mathematical notion of “balance,” i.e. five paragraphs of Republicans for every five paragraphs of Democrats. The ideal instead was that we showed you everything we could see, good and bad, ugly and not, trusting that a better-informed public would make better decisions. This vision of media stressed accuracy, truth, and trust in the reader’s judgment as the routes to positive social change.

For all our infamous failings, journalists once had some toughness to them. We were supposed to be willing to go to jail for sources we might not even like, and fly off to war zones or disaster areas without question when editors asked. It was also once considered a virtue to flout the disapproval of colleagues to fight for stories we believed in (Watergate, for instance).

Today no one with a salary will stand up for colleagues like Lee Fang. Our brave truth-tellers make great shows of shaking fists at our parody president, but not one of them will talk honestly about the fear running through their own newsrooms. People depend on us to tell them what we see, not what we think. What good are we if we’re afraid to do it?

#matt taibbi #journalism in action #new progressive orthodoxy #unofficial official religion #great awokening #purging the heretics and unbelievers #freeze peach is not just an ice cream flavor

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utopianvoices · 6 years ago

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paws off | l.minho

↭ genre: relationship au; fluff

↭ word count: 2.5k

↭ a/n: thanks for the request love!! i’m not sure what genre you want so i’ll just go with my own ideas if that’s okay <3 it’s my first fic after quite a while so i hope it’s not too shitty asldkfj hope you like it :3

↭ prompts: “It’s not mine, I swear.” - “How is it not fucking yours!”

↭ warnings: explicit language

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

“Y/n, no. We’re not going in there. The last time we went there you wouldn’t leave even past closing time and we were practically kicked out,” your boyfriend huffed, stuffing his hands into his black leather jacket that he, after much persuasion and threats, claimed back from you. “I’ll take you to any fucking shop, except that shop.”

“Oh come on, Minho. Stop being such a party pooper,” you whine, tugging on the hand that was clasped around yours, turning around to face your boyfriend who was staring holes at the shop’s entrance.

Happy Paws, it read.

You had always wanted a dog — a really fluffy, cute, energetic one — to brighten up the atmosphere in your new shared apartment with Minho. Both of you had decided to get an apartment together after being together for nearly two years, and everything was perfect. Except for one thing.

Minho didn’t like dogs.

He only liked cats and although you had tried your best to continuously show him photos and videos of dogs, it never worked.

y/n: [15 photos attached] y/n: babe, check this out!!!! it’s so cute (ಥ﹏ಥ) side hoe: first of all side hoe: why are you texting me, i’m right opposite you side hoe: second of all side hoe: stop sending me fluffy devil photos ffs

That definitely earned him a kick and a threat of making him sleep on the couch, although the both of you knew that that was never going to happen; you needed your cuddle buddy.

Every time the two of you paid a visit to the shopping mall 3 blocks away from your apartment, you would drag Minho into the pet shop, and he usually grudgingly complied. However today, he wasn’t in the mood to have “fluffy devils” — as he liked to refer to them as — pouncing on him and licking him all over as if he were some ice cream bought on a hot summer day.

“No, Y/n. I’m not coming. So if you really want to, you can go ahead while I go visit H&M,” he announced firmly, gently prying your hand off of him, and turning to walk the opposite direction towards the retail outlet.

You sighed and cast a last glance at the neon sign — which flickered every now and then due to the lack of maintenance — and jogged to catch up with your very, very grumpy boyfriend.

✼ •• ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ •• ✼

The theme song of F.R.I.E.N.D.S was blasting as you lay lazily on your couch, scrolling through Twitter and saving a funny meme every now and then.

With your pyjamas on and with a bowl of popcorn on your lap, you were not in any mood to move, already merging into one with your couch. But fate wasn’t on your side. Not even 15 minutes into your favourite show and your doorbell rang incessantly, not even giving you time to get yourself together and walk over to the door.

Only one person was that impatient, and that was Han Jisung, the bane of your existence, also known as your best friend.

Setting your popcorn bowl down on the table, and turning down the volume of the TV, you noticed that the weather had completely shifted from before you started your show; it was a downpour. Quickly hurrying to the door, you opened it gently, only to be pushed back as Jisung slammed the door open, hurrying in, completely drenched.

“Ew, Han Jisung! GET OFF MY CARPET!” you screeched, kicking his legs as you pulled him away from your precious cream coloured wool carpet that took you months to save up for. If anything were to happen to that carpet, you knew that you were going to make Jisung pay for every single cent.

“Geez, calm yourself woman. It’s just a carpet!” he exclaimed, looking around nervously. “Is Minho home?”

“No, he’s out for dance practice. Why?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at his tensed posture and nervous glances; something was definitely up. “Why do you look like you just committed a crime?”

At this, Jisung let out a nervous chuckle, holding his coat tighter and moving slightly away from you, trying to hide whatever he was guilty of from you. But you were too observant and immediately zeroed in on the problem.

“What’s up with your coat? The first thing you do is throw your coat onto the couch, so why are you holding onto it as if your life depends on it?” you enquired, moving closer to him, wanting to get to the bottom of his weird behaviour.

“U-uh, its nothing! It’s just really cold here and I think I really need to keep my coat on, in case I fall sick? Yea, because of that,” he stuttered out, sounding more like he was convincing himself instead of you.

That’s it, you knew something was wrong. Your best friend never stuttered unless he really did something that he knew was going to piss you off.

“Spit it out, Han Jisung, or else I’m going to tell Felix about your crush on his sister,” you said, smiling slyly as his eyes widened in horror. If there was anything scarier than you being mad, it’s Felix being mad, especially when it involved his precious sisters.

“Omg fine I’ll spit it out, but before that, let me explain clearly so that-” he started, but was cut off by a small sound coming from his coat. One that sounded a lot like a bark.

You heard it again, surprise filling your eyes as Jisung’s shoulders drop in defeat, hand reaching into his oversized coat to carry the cutest puppy you had seen in your entire life.

“I was walking over to Felix’s place from the mall when it started pouring and I saw this little fella running around trying to find shelter. It was so tiny and looked like it was lost so I just grabbed it to check for a collar,” he said, scratching the puppy behind it’s (you hadn’t checked for genders) ears as the puppy cuddled closer into him, visibly shivering. “There was no collar,” he continued, pointing to the pup’s empty neck. “I couldn’t just leave him there, but I couldn’t bring him back to my campus because my RA doesn’t allow pets.”

“So, your dumbass thought that it would be a great idea to bring it to my place where my boyfriend, who LOVES dogs, lives with me,” you deadpanned, causing Jisung to chuckle sheepishly and scratch the back of his head.

“Hey Y/n, I just saw an extra pair of shoes outside. Who’s here?” Minho’s voice travels through the apartment, causing both you and Jisung to jump on your spot. Oh no.

You stood frozen at your spot, unable to move, as Jisung ran into your master bedroom and hid the puppy under the bed, immediately taking off towards the way out of your apartment.

“Oh hey, Jisung! I didn’t expect you to be here-”

“Yes yes, it was great meeting you Minho! I gotta go now,” Jisung says, words rushing out of his mouth as he ran out of your apartment at the speed of light.

Minho just stares at the door, unable to comprehend what just happened, when he saw you standing in the middle of the apartment, still unable to move from your spot for fear of what might happen if Minho found out about the new uninvited guest.

“Hi love,” he drawls out, as he places a soft kiss on your lips, a usual greeting between the both of you when either of you gets home. “What’s up with Jisung?”

The kiss seemed to snap you out of your thoughts, as you chuckled nervously. “H-Hahaha just typical Jisung, you know?”

“True,” he nods along, as he walks towards your bedroom, dying to get into the toilet for a nice hot bath.

Before you could stop yourself, you grabbed Minho and swerved him away from your bedroom, causing him to collide with the wall behind him.

“Woah nevermind Jisung, what’s up with YOU today?” he asked, surprised by your sudden movements.

“Uh... I just wanted to say that you look so amazing today? Like wow, how am I dating a GOD,” you say, throwing compliment after compliment, hoping that it will distract him from his usual chores. If there was something that Minho loved more than you, it was being complimented by you.

His surprised feature slowly morphed into one of his infamous smirks, as his hands found your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“Hmmmm I like what I’m hearing. Go on,” he encouraged, smirk ever present on his flawless face.

You started off your list, relieved that his attention was diverted to you and the words spewing from your mouth, and not at the tiny creature lurking around in your bedroom, curious about its new environment.

With every compliment, the space between both of you decreased, as the reason you even started this was erased from your mind. Right then, it was just you and Minho, everything else forgotten.

You stared into his eyes, captivated by the intensity he held in them, as it spoke stories to you. It never ceased to amaze you; how you scored someone Lee Minho.

Just as you felt the ghost of his lips on yours, eyes closed and heart beating erratically, the both of you heard something that caused you all to freeze on the spot. You, in fear that you had been caught, and him, in confusion.

Woof.

Well, fuck.

“What was that?” Minho asked, glancing between you and your bedroom door, the confusion slowly dissipating as annoyance took over his features.

“W-what? I didn’t hear anything?” you forced out, avoiding eye contact with the boy in front of you.

Before you could stop him, he marched towards your bedroom and yanked the door open, your words of protests dying in your mouth.

Less than a minute later, Minho stomps out, fury written all over his face as he points to your bedroom. “What the fuck is that doing here? You know I don’t like dogs, and yet you buy one?!”

“It’s not mine,” you start, letting out a sigh at the fact that you had successfully pissed him off.

“Come on, I’m already pissed, don’t give me stupid excuses.”

“It’s not mine, I swear!” you say, raising your voice slightly to prove your point.

“How is it not fucking yours?!” he shouted back, causing you to wince at his tone. You face the floor, unable to look at him as the guilt of doing something that he didn’t like ate you up, even though it wasn’t really your fault.

Your eyes didn’t leave the wooden flooring even when you heard a retired sigh leave Minho’s lips, footsteps coming towards you as you finally see his socks clad feet right in front of you.

“Jisung left it here,” you started, slowly lifting your head to look at him. “It was raining and it was lost, and Jisung brought it here because his RA doesn’t allow him to keep pets. I’m so sorry, I should have told you sooner, but it just happened really fast and I didn’t want to piss you off, but that didn’t really work out very well so now you’re mad and-”

“I’m not mad,” he said, cutting you off. “I was just surprised and assumed you got one without even telling me. I’m going to kill Jisung,” he finished, pulling you in for a hug, as an indication to prove his words — he really wasn’t mad.

You buried your face into his chest, taking in a deep breath as his scent calmed you down, causing you to squeak out one last “I’m sorry”.

“So... What are we going to do now?” he asked, staring at you expectantly. Oh, right. The problem wasn’t solved.

“Um, I can ask around for anyone who’s willing to take it? But that’ll take time, wouldn’t it? And since you don’t like dogs, we can’t keep it here, so maybe I could go to that pet store at the mall and get them to keep him? I don’t know if they do such things but-” you rambled on, disappointment growing in you at the fact that you had to give away that cute little thing that had found its way into your heart at first sight.

“We can keep him,” Minho cut in, causing your ramble to come to a halt. You blinked at him, mouth half open, unable to believe the words that just came out of his mouth.

“Close your mouth, honey. You’re going to catch flies,” he said, shaking his head slightly as a smile grew on his face. “What kind of a boyfriend would I be if I don’t give my girlfriend what makes her the happiest? I could see the disappointment on your face, baby. And there’s nothing I hate more than that. So maybe I can make some space for that fluffly devil in this house.”

Your heart was threatening to burst out of its seems as he finished his little speech, your face immediately lighting up, as you threw your hands around him, causing him to stumble backward.

“I love you I love you I love you,” you chanted, as you untangled yourself from him after planting a kiss on his cheek, rushing towards the bedroom to introduce your new puppy to your boyfriend.

“Hey! You better not forget about me, alright? I better be receiving more love than that fluffy devil!” your boyfriend called out, only to be met with your beautiful laugh bouncing off the walls.

You cradled your new baby in your arms as you carried him (you finally checked) out into the living room, as Minho waited expectantly to see the little creature that got you so happy.

As soon as his eyes met yours, the puppy squirmed around in your arms, indicating that he wanted to be let down. As you bent down and gently placed him on the ground, little paws rushed towards the boy in front of you, as the puppy rubbed himself against Minho and nudged him with its nose, clearly wanting to be held by Minho.

Hesitantly, Minho picked the little one off the ground, instinctively scratching the little pup behind its ears, causing the little canine to relax into his arms, its small tongue poking out from the side of its mouth.

You cooed at the sight in front of you, happy that you could see Minho’s walls slowly break down around dogs.

“It’s true,” he spoke up, causing you to look at him curiously. “It’s different when it’s yours, and not just some random one roaming the streets.”

Your eyebrows raised as you let a small chuckle escape you. “I’m pretty sure that’s only applicable to children.”

“Oh, right.”

You walk over to where Minho was busy playing with the new pup, joining both of them on the floor. Sometimes going through hardships to attain something, just made it that much more satisfying. You smiled to yourself, as you made a mental note.

Thank Jisung later.

∞ end ∞

#skz-writersnet #skzwriters #district9net #stray kids #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #lee minho imagines #lee know imagines #lee minho scenarios #lee know scenarios #lee minho #lee know #dee scribbles

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jjkmagic · 6 years ago

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Lazy Morning - SpardaWeek Day2

Title: Lazy Morning

Pairing: Dante/V Rating: E

Word Count: 3,433 Summary: There were many things Dante had yet to get used to after the whole Urizen disaster. Among them waking up to V, curled up lazily against him in bed, was admittedly one of the most pleasant ones. Tags: Fluff, Smut, Lazy Mornings, Morning Sex A/N: Written for SpardaWeek on Twitter. Can also be read on AO3.

Lazy Morning

The moment Dante woke up he knew it was way too early to be awake, simply because it was always too early to wake up. If it was up to him he might as well sleep all day, maybe take a little break for pizza, and then sleep some more. Unfortunately most people didn’t share that philosophy, so he too, had eventually gotten used to forcing himself out of bed at some point during the day.

But it wasn’t so bad. These days he might even be tempted to say that it had its good side, too, or should he rather say sight? Namely the one he woke up to every day. It made it just a little easier to open his eyes in the morning, and stop pretending the world didn’t exist as long as he didn’t. He could feel it, the warmth of his bed that he still wasn’t used to, and that had little to do with the sunlight streaming through the broken blind he had yet to bother fixing. He reached out with one hand, carefully, just until he met something soft and warm that was definitely not a blanket, and smiled. That alone, knowing he was there, was enough to convince him to open his eyes.

He blinked them open, mindful of the sun that had a tendency to shine right into his eyes, no matter what time it was. Today, though, it had already moved past his body, highlighting jet black locks and a pale face instead. V’s hair was curled heavily and disheveled in places. His expression was soft, seemingly content, free from worry or pain. Dante was glad to say that it had been quite some time since he had last seen either marring the other’s face.

The sight still left him breathless, no matter how often he had already woken up to it. His heart clenched almost painfully in both disbelief and utter joy.

This man was his now. He was always at his side, and he was so willingly. He had chosen Dante out of his own volition like only a true fool could, or maybe someone who loved deeply, whose love went deeper than Dante’s flaws and his false bravado.

Before he knew it Dante was reaching out to cup a pale cheek that the morning light was dancing upon all too playfully, doing so with a gentleness he didn’t even know he possessed.

“You’re beautiful, V,” he whispered, for no one to hear but himself and the soft light dancing across V’s still form.

It was an observation he probably didn’t share often enough. He often didn’t even dare to, though, in fear of sounding overly sappy.

But what could he say? He loved this man, which was as simple as it was frightening. Or maybe frightening wasn’t the right word, but something new, foreign, something he still had to get used to.

V was stirring soon after, subconsciously nuzzling into Dante’s hand as he moved just the tiniest bit closer in his sleep. He stilled once he could feel Dante’s body against his, and Dante presumed he had gone back to sleep, but just when he had convinced himself of that V’s eyes opened. They focused on Dante immediately, and Dante was weirdly giddy to know that he was the first thing V woke up to in the morning, especially when those jade green eyes seemed to sparkle upon recognizing him and V’s lovely pink lips turned into a soft, sleepy smile.

“Morning, gorgeous,” Dante breathed softly.

He felt tempted to kiss those smiling lips, so he did just that, pressing a chaste little peck to V’s lips. V’s eyes closed at the action before smiling at him once more.

“Good morning, Dante,” V greeted him in return, and the sound of his low, sleepy voice even made up for the lack of a pet name. Dante could live with that.

V sat up and the thin summer blanket covering him slipped from his shoulders to pool in his lap. Knowing he wore nothing beneath due to certain activities last night was almost too much to bear. V, however, wasn’t even awake enough to notice Dante’s blatant staring, much less the inappropriate thoughts that started filling his mind.

It was a shame, really, that Dante’s demon nature prevented marks from remaining on his skin for longer than a few minutes, while V bore every mark with a nonchalance that bordered on pride. There they were: soft markings barely peeking out from beneath the blanket left behind by Dante’s own hands. They would fade soon, in fact, Dante had been unaware he had left them at all, but V hadn’t complained. The marks left by Dante’s lips and teeth, however, those would stay for a while longer, adding to the artwork on V’s skin with a touch of pink and red. On V’s neck for example, left and right, just shy of the thin black lines adorning it.

Dante sat up as well, his hands wrapping around V’s waist, and nuzzled against the yet sensitive marks on his neck. That got V’s attention and the man suddenly sat up straighter.

Now Dante had done the same thing enough times to know that this could go one of two ways: either V would push him away with a playful, bordering on exasperated, remark about Dante being insatiable or…

A moment later V relaxed into the hold, shifting his head to give Dante more room, all the while humming quietly, curiously.

“You seem to be in a good mood,” he remarked, not sounding put off at all.

Dante liked what that meant, a lot.

“Waking up with you, how couldn’t I be?”

V chuckled, soft, little vibrations Dante could feel against his lips where they rested against V’s skin, tempting a smile onto his own lips.

“Charming. And I’m sure that’s the only reason.”

Dante grinned, lavishing some attention on the marks he had left with his tongue. He pulled away, making a show out of licking his lips as he did so.

“Well, you being so gorgeous certainly helps.”

A sultry little smirk formed on V’s lips, but it was never that easy.

“And with 'gorgeous’ I’m sure you mean naked.”

“Hey, I didn’t say that!” Dante was quick to defend himself.

“But you thought it.”

He hadn’t, not really.

…Well, not that much anyway. Instead of replying, though, he pounced, pinning V beneath him. The man didn’t seem surprised, but offered no resistance.

“I see you have changed tactics,” he commented calmly.

It was just the tiniest bit disappointing honestly, but at this point Dante should have been used to V defying his expectations. V wouldn’t be here, if he didn’t, after all, so Dante simply grinned down at him.

“Now shut up, and let me make you feel good.”

At that something in V’s expression changed, growing almost soft. He linked one hand behind Dante’s head to pull him close.

“You always do,” he said softly, and if that wasn’t just entirely unfair Dante didn’t know what was.

He groaned, not bothering to resist the temptation to kiss V for real. Judging from how he could feel V smile against his lips the other man surely didn’t seem opposed.

Was he allowed to be sappy yet? Dante pondered over that as they broke apart and he stared into those soft green depths.

Screw it.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, softer than he intended.

What do you mean? He wasn’t getting sentimental, he wasn’t .

V’s smile only grew softer.

“As you keep saying.”

Dante smiled. “Do I really?”

“Don’t tell me the ‘Legendary Devil Hunter’ is nervous?”

Leaning closer Dante brushed his lips against V’s smiling ones.

“Why? Do I have a reason to?”

V chuckled, a sound as rare as it was beautiful, the hand still at the back of Dante’s head stroking softly through his hair.

“I don’t see any,” he replied.

There was a smirk playing on his lips that Dante was quick to mirror, kissing V once more before trailing lower. He pressed a kiss to V’s cheek and jaw, earning another soft chuckle. When he reached his goal down on V’s neck he made sure to kiss both of the marks before nipping one of them with his teeth. V groaned low in his throat, hand burying further into Dante’s silver-white locks.

“You like that, huh?”

That was when V used the grip he had on Dante to tilt his head up and look at him, a dangerous gleam in his eyes.

“I would like it if you moved this on. Unless this is all you’re planning to do?”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Dante grinned, “there’s lots more where that came from.”

He sat up quickly and used one hand to pin V’s hands in place over with head. V merely quirked an eyebrow at the action, watching him expectantly.

Intimidation was never going to work on this guy anyway, so Dante wasted no time in going for his actual goal, though he couldn’t help admiring them beforehand. They were right there, after all: all cute and pink and vulnerable.

“Dante?” V asked after a moment of Dante silently staring at him, and Dante noticed just a hint of trepidation in his usual calm voice.

Dante grinned just before squeezing one of V’s cute, little nipples. V gasped, immediately starting to squirm in his grasp.

“Dante!”

The devil hunter merely chuckled, relishing the soft gasps and moans spilling from V’s lisps when all Dante did was rubbing that sensitive little bud between his fingers. V was just delightfully sensitive, especially right there. The other little bud looked almost lonely, though. Seeing as his other hand was still occupied he would just have to remedy that with his mouth, wouldn’t he?

V’s squirming only increased when he realized what Dante was about to do. His full-body shiver when Dante’s lips closed around his nipple was the greatest reward in itself even before Dante started suckling on it.

With soft, desperate gasps filling his ears Dante slowly eased his grip on V’s hands, and not a moment later they were on him, one back in his hair and the other on his shoulder, but Dante couldn’t tell whether V was trying to push him away or pull him closer.

“D-Dante, stop teasing!” V gasped and Dante delighted in hearing that sultry voice waver and break, all thanks to his own doing.

Dante let up then, smirking down at the other man.

“What makes you think I’m teasing?”

V glared at him, though his reddened face severely diminished the intended effect.

“Your smirk, just to name one thing.”

“Alright, you got me," Dante admitted easily. "So I take it you’re not opposed to taking this further?” he asked, already leaning towards the bedside table where they kept certain supplies.

V actually rolled his eyes at that.

“I would have kicked you out of the bed long ago if I was.”

That was all he needed to hear as Dante retrieved the lube from the drawer.

“I’m aware. Just making sure, don’t worry.”

Dante shifted a little further down the bed so V had more room to move. Not needing any further prompting V spread his legs, allowing Dante to settle between them. Dante grinned lewdly down at him as he went to spread some of the liquid on his fingers before reaching down. V let out a sigh that sounded suspiciously like a mixture of exasperated and amused, before that too, broke down into a gasp as Dante slid a finger into him.

V was always sensitive, but also quick to adjust, so Dante didn’t wait long before slowly opening him up with shallow thrusts.

V moaned softly, moving slowly in time with Dante's thrusts. He seemed comfortable enough, so Dante added another finger, still keeping his thrusts shallow to get V used to the sensation. At least that was his intention but-

“I’m not made of glass, Dante,” V complained, green eyes clear and challenging as he looked up at him.

Dante let out an amused huff before he added a third finger and started scissoring them.

V groaned in appreciation, erasing all worries of moving too fast.

"Hn… deeper… ” Dante couldn’t help but grin, feeling inordinately pleased that he had gotten V to the point where he knew what he wanted, even if it meant that he tended to be quite demanding these days. He was also pleased, he rediscovered at the high-pitched keen that left V as Dante complied with his demand, that V was just as sensitive as that very first time Dante had been allowed to touch him this way. “I'm ready. Please…” V sighed into his ear, audibly breathless. Dante withdrew his fingers, wiping them off carelessly, before resituating himself. With a suggestive grin he reclined against the headboard, legs spread in obvious invitation. V watched him, a healthy flush and just a hint of hesitation on his face when he realized what Dante wanted him to do. “You up to it?” Dante asked, only half-teasing. The look of determination he was faced with just a moment later was all the answer he got as V moved over, lifting one leg -that lovely cock of his right in front of Dante's face for one teasingly fleeting moment- and straddling Dante's in one fluid motion. He loved that about V: always unafraid, practically eager, to try new things, and Dante was more than willing to teach him. The smirk V's face when they were but inches apart was one of the most beautiful things the devil hunter had ever seen, and Dante was helpless to watch as V rose once more, one hand reaching behind himself to hold Dante's cock in a sure grip. Dante held his breath, restraining himself from thrusting up with abandon as he felt himself line up with V's perky little hole. He let V lead, watching with bated breath as the man started lowering himself, his smirk quickly falling from his face as his expression tensed, his eyes closed in obvious discomfort. Dante was quick to grab onto his waist both to steady the other man and hold his progress. "Take it slow," he breathed softly as those beautiful eyes fluttered open once more to look at him. "There's no rush." V was just looking at him for a moment before he nodded almost imperceptibly. His arms reached out to steady himself on Dante's chest before he started moving once more this time steadied by Dante's firm, supportive grip. It was slow but steady going from there, and the soft satisfied noise that left V when Dante finally bottomed out was the sound of angels. "You feel good," V sighed against Dante's lips, capturing them in a hungry kiss. Dante hummed questioningly but gladly met him with equally eager lips. "Glad you think so," Dante said once his lips were his own again. He loosened his grip, instead offering soft strokes along V's flank as he savored the feeling of being buried to the hilt in soft welcoming flesh. "You gonna do it yourself?" Dante asked, smiling lazily up at V who responded with a smirk of his own. "I'll certainly try." And that smirk was truly worthy of a devil as he rose up on his knees, giving Dante no time to prepare himself, before he dropped down again, drawing groans both of them. "You're a real devil, you know that?" Dante growled as he leaned up for a filthy kiss. V's only reaction was to purr as if he had just received the best compliment, that beautiful bastard. "And here I thought that was your part," V replied smoothly as if he wasn't just as desperate as Dante in that moment. He rose up again, before Dante could even think to respond again, more slowly this time until but the tip remained before sliding back down, growing more confident with each downward motion, until he settled into a slow rhythm. Dante groaned, kissing and nipping aimlessly at V's neck listening to the other's breathless gasps and soft little moans. His black curtain of hair covering the both of them as he turned his head to look down at Dante, a teasing little smile on his lips until it was broken by another gasp just a second later. He was beautiful like this, and more perfect than he had any right to be. That was another thing that was new to Dante. Slow sex had never been of interest to him before, but with V those lazy, intimate moments between them were the most satisfying experience he could ever hope for. V kept up a rhythm that was slow without being unsatisfying that stoked equally slow-burning embers of pleasure deep in his gut. V's head landed in the junction between Dante's neck and shoulder, breathing irregularly as his rhythm faltered, and the devil hunter took over when he saw V's legs trembling from the effort to keep himself up. It still surprised him how light the man was, all the confidence and stubbornness of a demon wrapped into a frail human body, and Dante loved him all the more for it, primal desires to claim and own building a surprising harmony with the overpowering urge to protect and nurture. Dante was all but helpless to obey them. "Dante," V all but sighed into his ears and Dante remembered he still had a job to do. He lifted the body on top of him with ease, dragging him back down at the same time as he thrust up, earning the most beautiful moan yet as V abandoned his steadying hold to wrap his arms around Dante instead digging dull claws in the other's shoulder blades. Dante growled approvingly as he repeated the motion, over and over again, setting a faster pace as he felt them both nearing their peak. "V, are you-" "Yes! Please... together..." "Fuck," Dante groaned, picking up the pace, making sure to thrust hard and deep until V's moans were little more than broken sobs. Dante grabbed V's cock laying hot and leaking between their bodies, and gave but a single tight-gripped stroke as he thrust up into his already abused prostrate and the world turned white. V came gasping, spreading hot sticky liquid between their bodies, clamping down mercilessly around the hunter who spilled deep within him until nothing was left to give. V sagged against him, spent and exhausted, breathing harshly into Dante's neck. With how little he weighed Dante had no problem letting him rest right where he was even as the mess they had created between them slowly grew uncomfortable. Dante's own devil nature had him fully recovered in less than a minute, so he had all the time in the world to dote on V. He softly brushed messy strands of hair out of V’s face before pressing a sweet kiss to his lips that V only offered a soft hum in response to, eyes still firmly closed. "Time to rise and shine, darling." V grumbled, opening his eyes only to throw him a judging look. "You're insufferable." Dante offered him a charming smile in return. "That's not what you said before," he said with a wink. “First shower is yours, darling.” That got a tired chuckle out of V.

"My, how generous," he replied teasingly, closing his eyes once more.

Dante thought that was the end of that, and V would actually just keep lying in bed for a while longer. V surprised him yet again with stretching out his limbs not even a minute later before opening his eyes again. He sat up then, looking almost adorably tired. As if reading Dante’s mind V yawned as he finally moved to get out of the bed. He grabbed some fresh clothes from the closet before moving past the bed toward the bathroom, but not before leaning down to press a playful little kiss to Dante’s lips.

Dante could only stare at him as if in a daze.

"I won't be long," V whispered into his ear like a lover’s secret.

Was he allowed to sappy yet? Dante wondered yet again, and again, the answer was the same: screw it. "I'll miss you anyway," he replied softly. He figured the surprised little chuckle that gained him was worth the embarrassment as V left to take his showers. Dante didn’t deny staring at V’s backside all the way until the door closed behind him.

What could Dante say? He just really loved this man.

If you liked it, please like and/or reblog, and feel free to yell at me via asks or messages if you feel like it^^

#devil may cry #dante/v #fanfiction #spardaweek #devil may cry 5 #dmcv #dmc5 #dante #jjkmagic

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athyrabunlord · 7 years ago

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LLSHP 9 - Christmas Banquet

Arc1: [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6] [Chapter 7]

Arc2: [Chapter 8] [Chapter 9] [Chapter 10] [Chapter 11] [Chapter 12] [Chapter 13] [Chapter 14]

Arc3: [Chapter 15 - Under The Black Lake (TBD)]

Interlude: [Carbonado (1)] [Carbonado (2)] [Of Feathers and Wind] [Delphinus (teaser blip)]

[Brief note about School Term] [other LLSHP AU stuff] [YohaMaRuby concept arts] [ChikaYouRiko concept arts] [KanaDiaMari concept arts] [Hogwarts Staff]

[FFN link] (finished the interludes!) [Pixiv Link]

A/N: (ง •̀_•́)ง Yup still keeping up this update schedule of 1 chapter every two weeks! Still slowly editing previous chapters though XD; Anyway, this feels more like a long filler chapter tbh, but it’s full of fun stuff! I enjoyed writing it, so I hope you’ll enjoy reading it too! Words: 8,073

Yoshiko grins at her reflection in the mirror.

How can anyone look so flawless? So utterly bewitching? How can such a perfect human being exist? Ah, no mere mortal could be this beautiful, that is the truth. She, the great Yohane, is a fallen angel after all!

For the umpteenth time, she smoothes the non-existent crinkles of her raven-black velvet dress, her silk gloves brushing over the grey ribbons and white frills. The dark magenta rose imprint along the hem only accentuates how majestic the wearer is.

She is so, so ready for the Christmas Banquet!

Chuckling huskily, she takes one step towards the grand ornate mirror and lightly touches its shiny surface. The last time she used a full-body mirror, the Mirror of Erised, she was filled with unpleasant sense of inferiority and downright confusion of her own identity. But now, this ordinary mirror shows her who she truly is, and she is pleased with herself.

Why desire to be a pristine angel, when her current self is even better?

All the challenges she's faced and the possibility of her soul being damaged only make her stronger.

That incident with the colony of Acromantula caused her to become wary of even the tiniest spiders for days, but since then she has been faring better in those practice duels against the older witches. Her improvement was the only reason why Dia lifted the tickling Jinx she set on Mari. Still, the blonde is banned from coffee and lemon pie until further notice, much to her horror. Taking pity on her, the rest of the group manages to convince Dia to disregard this rule just for tonight's feast.

The Christmas Banquet is an end of the first term celebration where esteemed guests from outside the school would attend as well. The astounding feast, prepared by House Elves and staff members together, is actually not the main attraction of this event.

The spotlight is the Yule Ball, which was originally part of the famed Tri-Wizard Tournament that used to take place between three magical schools. Nowadays, it is a ballroom dance competition that was started by some of the professors back when they were still students. Considering Hogwarts' long history, this is a fairly recent tradition that's been gaining popularity over the decades. The dancing pair not only have to be the best in their waltz, tango or other types, but also boost the flair of their performance with magic. Yoshiko heard rumors of explosive fireworks, dancing leprechauns and even actual storms in the past.

Chaotic, yet incredibly thrilling. What better way to end a term with a blast?

Of course, she did consider entering the competition and enrapture everyone in her fallen angel charm, but there is one teensy bitsy setback she just can't seem to overcome.

She's horrible at ballroom dancing.

And also, she has no partner.

Alright, not one but two setbacks in total. Her confident grin slips into a scowl. Before Hogwarts, she's been an avid follower of Muggle hip-pop, rock and rap, and she knows all the various choreography by heart.

However, ballroom dance is a whole different matter. Riko had been kind enough to try teaching her, but she's stepped on the older girl's feet one too many times. After she fled the Room of Requirement in mortification, it took Hanamaru and Ruby a lot of convincing for her to even attend the Banquet at all.

Yoshiko shakes her head. Her two best friends are correct - all she has to do is look pretty and enjoy herself. There's no need to force herself to waltz or whatever!

Now that her confidence has returned, she steps out of her room to join the rest of her Slytherin housemates so they can head down to the Great Hall together. Whispers of praises and even friendly greetings make her tilt her chin high. While she isn't particularly close to any of them, they've all been civil to her and respect her wish for privacy.

"Nice dress, Tsushima-san!"

"Ku ku ku, I made it myself! I hand-picked all the materials and accessories~"

"That is fascinating! And the ribbon in your hair matches everything so well."

"Oh and your earrings..."

Truth be told, Yoshiko is rather taken aback by all the attention she's been given. Is it because she's dressed all fancy and could probably pass for a noble Pureblood? Or, perhaps, they have truly acknowledged her as a true Slytherin seeing how her grades have improved leaps and bounds under Dia's tutelage? Yoshiko hasn't really paid much attention to her housemates the past few months, so focused on her training and spending time with her friends.

She makes a mental note to be nicer to them. It doesn't hurt to make more allies, especially amongst those who share the same House as her. She searches a crowd for a familiar face, and quietly asks a wizard nearby.

"Erm, does anyone know where Dia-san is?"

The Slytherin prefect, whose aristocratic features imply he must be from an ancient Pureblood family, informs her that Dia is currently with the staff and guests, as the Kurosawa's representative.

Yoshiko pouts. Since she does not have a 'date' or partner, so to speak, she is hoping that she could stick to Dia's side until they reach the Hall at least. Alas, it looks like she'll have to make it there on her own. The rest of her Housemates look like they have partners already, and she isn't comfortable with the idea of accompanying someone she isn't close with anyway.

She quietly trails after the other Slytherins, glad to be distracted from her thoughts by their praises and curious questions about her fashion. Hushed murmurs then reach her ears after they step out of the Dormitory, and she blinks in surprise when the people in front of her part ways to allow a familiar girl to get through.

Yoshiko can't help but whistle in wonder. "I almost didn't recognize you! I thought I'm supposed to meet up with you and Zuramaru just outside the Hall?"

Ruby smiles shyly, clearly uncomfortable at how every pair of eyes seem to be on her. The shorter girl is clad in a dress robe of ebony and ivory hue, though the cape is adorned with the Hufflepuff bronze. With her hair tied in a ponytail, she looks rather dashing yet retains her characteristic cute aura.

"Um, Hanamaru-chan said she'll meet up with us later… she's having some trouble with her outfit, but when I tried to stay and help, she asked me to pick you up," Ruby twitters. "Hehe, you look so pretty, Yoshiko-chan!"

"Hnff, of course, it's Yohane-sama you're speaking with." As someone who enjoys the spotlight, Yoshiko is starting to find all those whispered conversations around them disconcerting. "Let's go then?"

As if understanding her intention, Ruby nods and holds out her gloved hand in a chivalrous manner. It is at such moment that Yoshiko has to remind herself that, no matter how harmless and critter-like Ruby is, she is still a Kurosawa Pureblood who has a different upbringing than her. Either way, the gesture endears the shorter girl to her even more.

"Heh, it's like you're a knight in shiny armor-," Yoshiko's grin twitches. "Well, I probably shouldn't use the word 'shiny', ugh. But really, why the dress robe? You look really good in it but I'd expected you to wear a dress?"

"Oh, that was my plan but last night, I received a parcel from m-my family. This is the formal attire I used to wear back then during important events. See? These colors represent the Kurosawa family," Ruby's smile softens, prompting Yoshiko to gently squeeze her friend's hand in comfort. "It's the first mail I've received from them since the night we got Sorted. I see they're trying to reconcile with me, so of course I'm more than happy to try as well."

"That's good. I mean, they should've long accepted you but at least this is better than nothing. Although, the Hufflepuff color-?"

There's a mischievous twinkle in Ruby's green eyes. "Hehe, I modified it myself. I'm proud to be a Puff and I'll always be."

Yoshiko chuckles fondly at her friend. "And I'm proud of you, Ruby. How about Zuramaru though? Please don't tell me she's also in dress robes or some… high-class samurai outfit or something."

It may sound ridiculous though she has no problem imagining the brunette wearing that. Hanamaru does love literature, especially romance fiction set in certain historical periods. Or, she could be draped in fancy ribbons and flowy dresses, not knowing how to put it on, while murmuring 'mirai zura' in admiration.

Ah, Hanamaru will probably smack her if she says that to her face. She can try, Yoshiko smirks, tonight, the great Yohane shall not be tamed by a mere little demon's whims!

"You'll have to wait and see, Yoshiko-chan. I promised Hanamaru-chan not to say anything to you because she wants to see your reaction," Ruby's steps gain a bit of a bounce as they walk down the hallways.

Yoshiko doesn't get a chance to protest because a pair of familiar orange and silver pounce on Ruby the moment they round the corner. Unlike her, the Gryffindor duo is quite vocal about their adoration of the handsome little Hufflepuff.

"Piki!"

"As expected of our Ruby-chan!"

"A real noble! A real prince!"

"Look at the fabric, look at the design! It's the real deal! Ahhh do you mind if I borrow it tomorrow? For research?"

"Hehe, you and your costume obsession, You-chan~ Still, both of you look so ikemen~! Kya, aren't we lucky, Riko-chan?"

Yoshiko allows her gaze to sweep over the three Third-Years, amazed by their respective appearances. Riko has chosen a conservative gown of amaranth and wine hue that's decorated with sakura petals along the hem, a perfect outfit that matches the pretty wearer's personality. Simple and elegant, the Ravenclaw chuckles daintily at her friends' antics. No doubt the voted campus beauty will be surrounded by suitors vying for her hand in a dance.

Chika is as cheerful as always, though there is now an inexplicable grace added to her charisma. Her hair is straightened with the signature braid adorned with a white rose. As opposed to her usual bright colored clothes, she is wearing a dark indigo cocktail dress embellished with white satin belt. Admittedly, if it weren't for her familiar laughter and fawning over Ruby, Yoshiko would have thought she is a refined guest from some upper-class family!

"Ehehe~ You-chan styled my hair!" Chika twirls around and winks at Yoshiko, who grins back in spite of herself. Yup, that's still the spirited Beater alright. "Can't thank you enough, Captain Watanabe!"

"Ha ha, 'twas my honor, First Mate Takami!" You salutes back, this characteristic gesture now rather suave given her outfit. Unlike her buddy, the Seeker is dressed in a formal suit that is probably made from pricey material, judging from the way it gleams at just the right angle. The popular witch, combined with her attractive smile, will most likely be chased by her fanclub the whole night.

Noticing Yoshiko's questioning gaze, You chuckles heartily. "I was going to wear a dress too, but ahaha our Housemates kinda bullied Kanan-chan and I into wearing a suit… they prepared this outfit for me, and I can't resist! I'm so going to research the fabric and its origins later! I mean, look at this tie! The gradient color is so pretty!"

"Well, you both look quite nice. Are you each other's dates?" Yoshiko smirks. Even after witnessing the duo's impressive teamwork and display of powerful magic, her opinion of them as dunderheads hasn't changed. Nowadays though, it's more of an affectionate nickname than having any derisive connotation behind it.

"Nope," they reply simultaneously. "We're Sakurauchi-hime's escorts tonight!"

Riko, who is standing several paces behind them, squeaks in surprise when she's promptly sandwiched between the two. It looks comical really, if Yoshiko doesn't know the history behind the three. While the self-proclaimed bodyguards playfully tease their flustered friend and Ruby, two more witches join their gathering.

"My my, everyone looks so gorgeous~!"

Mari, for some reason, is also wearing a tailored suit, her usually wavy golden hair straightened for the occasion and styled at the back with a few emerald clips. Combined with the azure bowtie, dark jacket with peaked lapels, turquoise waistcoat and more, she is fully decked for the Ball. She would have passed for an European gentleman if it weren't for her generous chest area, which just couldn't seem to be hidden.

As if reading her thoughts as always, the blonde smirks at her and puffs out her bosom even more. Yoshiko despairingly glances down at her own and grumbles. "Hmnnff, don't you look excited for the feast."

"You bet I am! I'm dying for my precious lemons," Mari purrs sweetly as she tugs on her date's arm. Yoshiko is pretty sure the implication has flown over the others' heads, and she groans inwardly at the realization that she is corrupted enough to know the Ravenclaw's double meaning.

Mari's lovely date appears just as exasperated. The tall witch has long cascading indigo tresses as dark and flowing as the ocean itself. The gradient plum and purple color of her silken mermaid dress complements her hair and eyes, while the translucent violet shawl gives her an overall mystic quality. Although, she looks familiar for some reason.

"Kanan-chan! How could you! You were supposed to wear a suit with me!" You puffs up her cheeks in dismay.

Yoshiko's eyes almost bulge out of their sockets. Come again?

"Ahaha sorry You," that laidback tone of laughter definitely belongs to the Gryffindor Lions' Captain. "We flipped a coin and I lost, so I had to wear the dress."

Yoshiko could only stare.

"Oh oh oh~ You've ensnared the lil'kitty here in your charms, Kanan~" Giggling, Mari rests her chin on her partner's shoulder.

"What!? No! It's just that, I've never seen her without that whip of a ponytail!"

"She hisses~ Maybe she'll scratch too~"

Yoshiko indignantly snarls at the blonde, almost blurting out that she's the cat Animagus, not her, but manages to remember last minute that You and Chika are present too. Her irritation subsides a bit when the others also agree that they've never seen Kanan with her hair down either.

"Anyways, Kanan and I will so win the Ball this year! We've had four years of practice, it's our turn to finally shine!" Fire blazes in Mari's eyes, though her expression couldn't remain serious for long as a Cheshire grin breaks through.

"But how about your arm?" Yoshiko squints at Kanan's supposedly injured arm, which looks unblemished.

"Mari cast a glamor Charm on it, and for the duration of the dance, I can do this," the older witch taps her bracelet and momentarily reveals strings of magic that blend in with her hair. "This enables me to move my arm as per my thoughts."

"Remember not to overuse it." Riko clearly doesn't seem too happy that Kanan isn't letting her injured arm rest.

"Don't worry, Rikocchi~! That's why I'm the lead, yes?" Mari winks at her junior. "I'm wondering though, none of you are entering the competition?"

Chika waves her hand. "Welp, I'm interested, but not with you two as rivals! Besides, we're keeping Riko-chan away from nasty suitors! Also, protecting our Ruby-chan."

At this, the Gryffindor duo smothers the startled Hufflepuff in a hug. Yoshiko rolls her eyes. "How about this one? I still remember how scary your fanclub is, You-san."

You points to herself, blinking naively. "But I'm with Chika-chan and Riko-chan?"

"So? They'll still try to get to you. Since you don't have a partner, many will try to make you dance with them," Yoshiko explains as patiently as she could. Could this dummy be more dense?

"But Chika-chan and Riko-chan are my partners-?"

Yoshiko groans and facepalms.

"Did you hear that, Rikocchi? Just enjoy yourself tonight," Mari's voice is light and teasing, though Yoshiko could understand the underlying meaning. Riko does appear tense from all the affection You and Chika have been showering her with.

"But I-"

"No buts! Fallo e basta~ That means no Disillusion Charm either." Tutting, Mari holds up her finger like an older sister chiding an unreasonable sibling. "It's a banquet, a feast, a celebration! Come on, Dia must be dying to see our lovely faces inside the Hall already."

"It'll take a while before we can rescue her from those guests though," Kanan smiles as her partner leads her inside, followed by the playfully bickering You and Chika who take Riko by the arm on each side.

"We're gonna wait here for Zuramaru," Yoshiko calls out after them, determined to ignore her growling tummy at all the delicious aroma wafting towards her nose.

She glances at Ruby, whose hair is a tad disheveled from all the hugs she received earlier. She helpfully holds up a pouch mirror as the shorter girl fixes her bangs. "So? Who're you gonna dance with later? Chika-san? You-san?"

"E-Eh? But you said you're not going to dance right? Then I can't just leave you alone," Ruby says firmly.

"Oh I just assumed you gotta dance as a Kurosawa. I overheard from my Housemates that many of them are expected to dance, to present their family or something. Then again, you don't have to, since you're here as Ruby, simple as that."

Ruby returns her grin. "Well, I do want to dance with Hanamaru-chan and you, if you don't mind, Yoshiko-chan."

"... you saw how I stepped on Lily's foot didn't you? She was nice enough not to say anything but I'm sure she had to use potions to make the bruises go away."

"That's because you were under pressure. It'll just be us three, so you'll be fine!"

Yoshiko finds Ruby's smile infectious. "I just gotta do my Rubesty huh?"

"Yup! Starting right now!" Suddenly, the shorter girl turns her around and pushes with strength unexpected of her.

Yoshiko feels her breath caught in her throat at the sight of Hanamaru, who gives her a bashful little wave. The brunette is wearing a traditional kimono of amber and gold shades, extravagant in its floral motif and intricate designs fitting for festive occasions. Even then, the whole attire somehow emphasizes Hanamaru's unique aura of humility and serenity.

She is beautiful.

"Sorry to keep you two waiting zura… it's been a while, so it took me some time to on the obi," the brunette sticks out her tongue sheepishly, gesturing at the elaborate sienna sash around her midriff.

Yoshiko is still zoned out while the two Hufflepuffs giggle and fawn over each other's attire. She only snaps back to her senses when Hanamaru reaches up and prods her forehead.

"Ow! What did you think you were doing, you disrespectful little demon!"

"Because you weren't paying attention zura!"

"No, I'm over-paying attention, Bakamaru," Yoshiko mumbles in embarrassment, hoping her cheeks aren't red.

"Zura?"

"Nothing, and stop giggling already Ruby! Geez, what's with the little demons tonight. It's mutiny, I say!"

"Yoshiko-chan is easier to rile up tonight, ne, Ruby-chan?"

"Mari-san called her a kitty cat earlier, Hanamaru-chan~"

"Oooh, that fits her zura~"

"Grrrr, shorties don't get to talk." Miffed, Yoshiko ruffles their hair using her slightly-superior height, grinning in satisfaction at their protests. "Why the kimono though? You're gonna stand out since everyone's wearing western-style clothing."

"Not true zura. Professor Koizumi is wearing a kimono, so is Professor Sonoda," Hanamaru pouts, "Besides, I don't have any dresses zura, and it's what my grandma sent me when I Owled her that we're having a banquet."

Thank you thank you, may Satan bless your soul, Grandma Kunikida. Yoshiko chants in her head while outwardly appearing as nonchalant as possible. "Whatever. At least you're wearing contacts and not wearing those granny glasses. Let's go in already. I'm starving!"

"Me too," Hanamaru attaches herself to Ruby's offered arm, giggling. "Hehe, we're like your dates ne, Ruby-chan?"

In response, the dashing Hufflepuff bows to Yoshiko like a gentleman and holds out her other hand. The Slytherin rolls her eyes at their expectant gaze and curtsies before accepting it.

Though flustered, Yoshiko finds herself giggling with her friends as they enter the Great Hall together.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

"Again, that's Miss Ohara and Miss Matsuura with their spectacular performance. Please give them a round of applause!"

The Charms Professor has already used the Sonorous Charm to do announcements, but even then her voice is drowned by the student body's thunderous cheers. Yoshiko finds herself clapping just as hard as everyone else, amazed by what she has witnessed.

Magic really brings a simple ballroom dance to a whole new level, doesn't it?

The waltz started normally like ones Yoshiko had seen in older Muggle movies, with the two witches moving in tandem and in sync. Never would she imagine the jokester Mari and jockey Kanan to twirl and sway so gracefully along with classy music. They were obviously well-rehearsed, but their years of friendship probably enabled them to read each other's movement to make everything flow.

Then their pace picked up, morphing seamlessly to a tango while the sparks and whirls of fire lit up the center stage. With a mixture of levitation charms, aguamenti and most likely some advanced magic Yoshiko knew nothing of, a screen of water enveloped the pair like a dome. Mari and Kanan seemed to be competing, fervently swimming around the arena as conjured marine creatures, the seal and dolphin Patronus Charms, and Transfigured creatures joined their acrobatic dance.

Needless to say, they finished with a literal bang, glitters and all, skating down the icy slope which dissipated into cottony snow flakes.

Yoshiko has to admit, that is one shiny performance.

"Yup, I'm glad I didn't try to enter the competition, at least not this year!" Chika's eyes are practically sparkling. "I'd rather watch the performances! Hehe, and watch Riko-chan playing the piano of course."

The Ravenclaw is seen smiling behind her grand piano, surrounded by Elves and other student members of the orchestra. In a way, Riko is shielded from possible suitors and the majority of the audience's attention during the Yule Ball, which is probably why she accepted the position in the first place.

Yoshiko sips at her strawberry punch, thoroughly enjoying the banquet so far. After the mouth-watering Christmas feast, the long tables in the Great Hall were then rearranged to make space for the Yule Ball in the center. High tables full of desserts and drinks were lined up against the walls while attendees mingled and simply enjoyed the show. The translucent ceiling was charmed to show snowflakes gently drifting in the evening sky, even though it didn't snow at all today.

At the front, the usual staff tables have been replaced by round ones for the various guests. Ruby had discreetly pointed out to her two Muggleborn friends some of the important figures, such as Heads of certain Departments from the Ministry, representatives from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, and even the illustrious wandmaker from Diagon Alley.

The Professors appear to be familiar with many of these guests, judging from the friendly and relaxed manner of their conversations. This encourages the older witches and wizards to introduce themselves and network among these influential people. Yoshiko notices many of her Slytherin Housemates already making impressions with the Ministry employees.

The most distinguished one is the Head Girl. As the Kurosawa heiress, Dia is dressed in full regalia of ebony and ivory, with the Slytherin cloak charmingly donned over her left shoulder. Various medals and trinkets decorate her garment, while her lustrous long hair, pulled in a fishtail braid, is draped elegantly over her right shoulder. With her austere demeanor and confident smile, she blends in well with the other adults. Yoshiko has almost mistaken her as a guest, a royalty even, and once again she is struck by the weight of being a Pureblood.

Dia isn't here just as herself, but as representative of her family.

Ruby appears antsy as well, unable to go help her older sister since they have to maintain the image of estranged sisters in public. They have no idea who the enemies are, and there is a possibility that they could be among the attendees right here in this very Hall.

Yoshiko downs her beverage and reaches for a different drink. Ruby's anxiousness is rubbing off of her, so she is relieved to see Mari and Kanan heading for the front. Surely, the two would rescue their friend as they had declared earlier. Oh, the pair has stopped to greet a bearded blond man. Judging from the familiar way they act and his uncanny Cheshire grin, he must be Mari's father. It's easy to forget that the quirky Ravenclaw came from a prestigious family too, since she doesn't act like one.

"Aren't you drinking too much zura?"

Yoshiko shakes her fingers at the frowning Hanamaru and takes another sip of her candy cane cocoa. She furrows her brows and puts the drink away before reaching for another one on the table, this time an eggnog coffee.

"Not this one either?" Ruby asks with an exasperated smile.

"Nope. At least, I don't feel any different," Yoshiko glares at the mug. "Just where could it be?"

Earlier, right before the Yule Ball, the Deputy Headmistress had announced that the Potion Professor prepared a surprise - the Felixis Felicis potion was randomly added to one of the many drinks. Yoshiko is determined to find that Liquid Luck. Being plagued by misfortune all her life, she wants to experience how it feels to not be unlucky for once, no matter how temporarily.

So far, no success.

"Maybe I should just go for those-"

"No," Hanamaru pulls at her arm before she could head for the cocktails and wine glasses on the other side. "You're still underage zura! Professor Sonoda stressed that it is for everyone, so they wouldn't have mixed the potion with drinks that aren't accessible to the younger students zura."

"Hnff, what would a mere Zuramaru know-"

"Oh, the next performance is starting!" Peacemaker as always, Ruby gestures at the center where another pair strolls through the floor just as confidently as Mari and Kanan did earlier. Since Yoshiko's feeling quite bloated, she decides to take her friend's advice to give up and enjoy the rest of the Yule Ball.

By the end, Yoshiko finds herself agreeing with Chika, that the competition is quite fierce. Mari and Kanan were good, but so were the others. It would probably be down to technicalities and the popular vote to determine which pair gets to be winners.

"Ok, so what now?" Yoshiko looks around the Hall, puzzled by how no one seems to be leaving. "Isn't the Banquet over?"

"Pfff, this is where the fun starts!" As if on cue, different sort of music starts playing and many students flood into the center stage to dance. Chika opens her arms dramatically. "Come on, who wants to start? Heh heh, Ruby-chan, how about you?"

"E-Eh? I-" The younger witch is gently but firmly pushed towards a confused Hanamaru, who is also nudged by a grinning You.

"Go on, enjoy yourselves!" The Gryffindors say in unison, which seems to give Ruby the courage she needs to ask the brunette for a dance. Both giggling, the Hufflepuffs enter the dance floor with their postures relaxed. This isn't like a performance where practically everyone is watching you, so the two girls are able to dance normally without such pressure.

Admittedly, they look adorable, and Ruby is a good lead! Chivalrously, she twirls the brunette around and her steps are unhurried for the latter to follow. Hanamaru's kimono sleeves twirl with her movements, the ribbon in her hair fluttering a bit as she try to match Ruby's pace. If only there's a camera!

An annoying prod to her side jostles her out of her observation. "What do you want?!"

"Don't you wanna dance too?" Chika pouts, one arm draped around her buddy You. "Come on, ya gotta save You-chan from her fangirls~"

Yoshiko peers over their shoulders and flinches at the sight of many witches staring their way, their bodies tense as if ready to spring into action the moment You steps away from the safety zone of expensive champagne glasses nearby. "And throw myself into a pack of rabid beasts? I think not!"

And besides, these dunderheads are quite transparent. They keep glancing at Riko's direction every few minutes, obviously waiting for the right moment to ask her for a dance. The Ravenclaw is currently occupied at the front, conversing with some of the Elven musicians.

"Yoshiko-chan, would you like to dance with me?"

"Ruby? You've finished dancing with Zuramaru?" Relieved to get away from the Gryffindors just for a while, Yoshiko hurriedly takes Ruby's offered hand.

"Oh, she's dancing with Kanan-san right now-"

"What?!"

Miffed, Yoshiko searches the crowd for the ridiculously tall-and-short pair. Indeed, the two are smiling brightly as Kanan attentively complements her movements with the younger girl. At least, the pair looks more like siblings than a couple, unlike the others around them. Gah, why is Bakamaru giggling so much? Is it really that fun!? What's with the blush?

Yoshiko takes a deep breath. Nope, she is so not jealous. The older Gryffindor has done a lot for them, and she's grateful for her help. Nuh-uh. Not jealous. Zen mode.

"I thought Kanan's supposed to be retrieving your sister from those guests?"

"Yup, Onee-chan's not trapped at the front anymore," Yoshiko follows Ruby's finger and sees Dia and Mari conversing on the side, surrounded by various prefects and students. It would be awhile before they could make their way to where Chika and You are. "Fine, whatever, let's get this started!"

"Okay, so first you- piki?!" Before Ruby could position them in the standard waltz stance, Yoshiko drags her friend around and twirls rather aggressively.

"Ku ku ku, I ain't gonna abide by silly ballroom rules! This is a free for all, Ruby! The music is kinda upbeat too, so I'm gonna do it my style!"

As much as she could in this dress anyway. It is really too bad she can't breakdance, or she's certain that she could impress many fellow students with her awesome techniques. Some of the Muggleborns are familiar with her moves and even cheer her on, while the Purebloods just stare at them blankly. There's curiosity in their eyes though, so Yoshiko happily pulls the squeaking Ruby along with her flow.

"That's pretty wicked, Yoshiko-chan, didn't know you could dance!" You is grinning while Chika welcomes an exhausted Ruby back to their midst. Yoshiko poses proudly, adrenaline rushing in her veins while a brilliant idea occurs to her.

Maybe she should ask Hanamaru for a dance?

She isn't given the opportunity to ask, for You excitedly pulls her onto the dance floor before she could react. Cold sweat trickles down Yoshiko's neck when she hears furious murmurs and disappointed grumbles from the pack of hungry wolves... no, fangirls.

You-san, you dense idiot! You're too close! Yoshiko couldn't help but blush when the older witch pulls her close, so close that their cheeks are practically touching. There are some screams or maybe cheers around them, she couldn't tell the difference, but out of instinct she clings to her partner as if this could save her from fangirls' wrath.

"Eheh, hang on~ Yousorou!"

"Wha- yeeeek!" Suddenly, You picks her up and throws her into the air!

She automatically tries to cover her fluttering dress, but she discovers that she doesn't have to. You must have conjured dancing feathers that hover around her, to block any viewers from seeing her underwear while she is airborne. Several brooms appear out of nowhere, and You tap-dances her way into the air, laughing and bowing as she approaches the slowly descending Yoshiko.

Strong arms easily catches her when You frog-leaps over the assembled tower of brooms. The athletic Gryffindor spins her around for several more paces before gently setting her back on her feet. The spectators' deafening applause overcomes the fangirls' protests as You rubs the back of her hair and hesitantly waves.

Yoshiko breathes raggedly, trying to comprehend what just happened as she leans against the older witch's shoulder.

"That was pretty good! Maybe we could refine it and enter the Ball next year- ow!"

Yoshiko scowls ferociously and smacks You's arm hard.

Again.

And again.

And once more.

"C-Chika-chan! She's punching me!"

"That's just a form of affection zura~"

"What-! Watch what you say, Bakamaru!"

Her ears feel like they are burning when she notices the rest of their group chuckling at their antics. At least, Hanamaru has returned from her dance with Kanan and is now stuffing her face with various desserts. Good, that's the Zuramaru she's used to. Be good and stay there. Keep feeding.

"That was amazing! What about it? Like You-chan said, you should form a duo, maybe called 'You & Angel?" Chika's previously tamed ahoge has sprung back up, swaying eagerly as the girl gives them a hug.

"No! And g-get off! I'm sweaty," Yoshiko pries the exuberant Gryffindors off of her person. Is this what Ruby feels all the time, being crowded by the baka duo? Although, it doesn't feel that bad, it's nice actually, because she can sense that the two witches are sincere in their hugs- no! The great Yohane shall not fall for their charm so easily!

She retreats to the side, huffing and puffing, and rummages through the tables for a drink she hasn't tried before. She glares at a glass of mikan juice, filled with pulp, for a good full minute. Taking a deep breath, she grabs the beverage and gulps down the content in noisy slurps.

Tearfully, she sticks out her tongue and waits for something to happen. Nope, other than a disagreeing tummy, she doesn't feel any special. Still no luck in finding that Felix Felicis potion. She glances back at her friends, noting that Chika and Hanamaru are now busy examining some sort of mikan dessert while Ruby happily eats a cup of pudding. Riko has finally joined them and is nibbling at a sandwich that You brought for her from another table. Kanan and Dia are several paces away, surrounded by admirers and younger students who must be taken by their respective outfits.

Hmn, where's that shiny cat Animagus?

She finds her answer a moment later when something reels her back onto the dance floor. Her vision is momentarily obscured by a top hat, which she scrambles to pull off. Half filled with annoyance and resignation, she blinks at the blonde witch holding out her gloved hand.

"Shall we dance~?"

Her lilting tone is a pitch lower than Yoshiko is used to, compelling her to accept the offer. Grinning, Mari begins to lead her around the other dancers, spinning her away and pulling her back at the right moment. Due to their height difference, Yoshiko is forced to peer up at the smirking witch, whose endowed bosom are rather distracting in an irritating way.

"Why do you want to dance with me anyway? Go back to your partner already." And keep that said partner away from Zuramaru, cheh.

"Why not? It's fun to dance with my cute little kouhai~ Besides, everyone's dancing, no?"

Yoshiko dares to glance around, noticing that Chika and Ruby have entered the center stage as well. You has somehow retrieved Kanan from Dia, who waves off her friend and is still occupied by the other students. It looks like the Gryffindor duo have failed or haven't tried asking Riko for a dance. Hanamaru is keeping Riko company as the two girls exchange accessories. True to her name, the sakura hairpin looks good on Hanamaru, while the saffron ribbon seems to make the hue of Riko's hair richer.

"Worried about Rikocchi, are we?"

"Well, yeah. Since that day with the Acromantulas, I've been watching her and the other two. It doesn't seem like Lily knows about the rumors, but those two bakas should be less obvious!"

"Hmm? Like how obvious you are towards Hanamaru-chan?"

"Yeah, exactly that! Wait what?! No! W-W-What are you talking about!"

Snickering, Mari tugs Yoshiko close and muffles her indignant shrieks against her coat. "Calm down~ Rikocchi is smart. She probably knows already, but doesn't want to believe it, understandably so."

"I see… what do we do then?"

"Now now, don't you worry about her. Just leave it to Kanan and I! We've got it worked out. You just focus on getting your girl~"

Mari smothers Yoshiko against her chest again before she could protest. "You'll see soon enough. It took a lot of convincing earlier, but Kanan and I cracked her down. There's no way Rikocchi would say no, teehee~"

Yoshiko scowls in the embrace and reluctantly relaxes. The hug does feel nice and comforting. While a part of her still doubts Mari due to her wacky ideas, she does agree that the senior is dependable whenever the occasion calls for it.

By the time they return to Riko and Hanamaru, the other pairs have finished their dance as well, while Dia has finally extracted herself from admirers. Yoshiko looks at every single one of her friends, pleased at this little bubble of nine. Her eyes meet Hanamaru's, and she freezes in self-consciousness. Puzzled, the brunette tilts her head and smiles adorably. A small splash of whipped cream is stuck to her puffed up cheek, which Yoshiko exasperatedly wipes away with a napkin.

"Aren't you eating too much, Butamaru?"

Frowning at the teasing nickname, Hanamaru punches Yoshiko's arm.

"Ow, that hurts!"

"Hnff, it'd better hurt zura!"

Yoshiko rolls her eyes. "Whatever, like you said, that's just a form of affection, ku ku ku~"

To her surprise, Hanamaru appears flustered and scoots away, placing a bewildered Ruby between them. Huh, that didn't go well. Time from Plan B.

"Okay, Yoshiko-chan, wish us luck," Chika and You suddenly whisper near her.

She hastily grabs hold of their arms before they could head towards Riko. "Wait, you're gonna go for it-?"

"Well, you're the only one we've told our little secret to, Yoshiko-chan," Chika fiddles with her fingers while You lets out a forceful chuckle. "Yeah, Chika-chan and I figure, it's now or never. We'll see which one of us Riko-chan picks, and we can move on."

"But-" Yoshiko helplessly glances at Mari, whose fiery eyes are focused elsewhere. Likewise, Kanan seems to be holding her breath, her expression intense as she stares in the same direction. Curious, Yoshiko and the two Gryffindors turn to look for what's holding their attention captive.

"Riko-san, may I have the pleasure of dancing with you?"

Dia's posture is slightly tense as she extends her hand towards the dazed girl. Riko's lips are parted in soundless surprise, her eyes wide as she glances between the gloved hand and Dia's earnest gaze. A pretty blush crawls up Riko's neck and cheeks as she daintily accepts the offer. Both smiling, one pleased and one coy, the pair slowly makes their way towards the dance floor. Many pairs of eyes are focused on them, most likely just as taken aback as Yoshiko is. She hasn't expected Dia to ask, or Riko to say yes.

Yet, looking at the two witches swaying to the gentle ballad, it somehow makes sense. They look like a match made in heaven, the way they seem absorbed in each other's presence. There's no need to concern themselves with unwanted attention, for they are already in their own world.

Yoshiko sighs quietly. In a way, she is envious. That's the kind of perfect scene she wants to appear to onlookers, with…

She glances at her friends, seeing how Hanamaru is just as mesmerized while Ruby looks happy for her older sister. Kanan and Mari exchange a quiet high-five, both grinning at how it turns out. Now, all that's left are the two possibly heartbroken duo.

Though disappointed, there is also something else in Chika and You's calm expressions. "Well, it's not like we have a chance against Dia-san anyway." "Yeah, it's not surprising that Riko-chan would accept."

Yoshiko scoffs and roughly pulls at Chika's arm, looping it around You's. The two witches blink at her innocently.

"Go on, go dance already. Don't mope here. Didn't you tell me to enjoy myself earlier? Now, it's your turn, both of you."

"Huh? With Chika-chan?" "With You-chan? Eeeh?"

"Shoo, off you go!" Their disbelief is actually heartrending to see, knowing what they used to be, so Yoshiko assertively pushes the two towards the dance floor. You nervously brushes through her hair while Chika awkwardly plays with her braid. After a few moments, their fingers finally interlace as characteristic smiles blossom upon their visage.

"Welp, just as she said, let's just enjoy ourselves, You-chan!"

"Yeah, wanna try an even more difficult stunt, Chika-chan?"

"Oho, you mean with more brooms and possible aquatic additions too, captain?"

"I knew you can read my mind, partner~ Let's consider this a prep for next year's Yule Ball!"

Like a proud parent, Yoshiko folds her arms and gazes after the pair until they blend in with the crowd. Matchmaking success! Whatever happens after is up to the two, but Yoshiko is confident that something good would bloom from this night.

"Hehe, they look cute together, don't they?" Ruby appears just as happy.

"All thanks to Yohane-sama!" Grinning, Yoshiko grabs a glass of water and pretends it's champagne. "Cheers, everyone!"

As they toast to many things, the clinks of glasses and laughter have re-ignited the rush of adrenaline she felt earlier. If the others could pair off so smoothly, surely it isn't that difficult to ask a certain brunette out for a simple dance?

Alas, as decreed by a fallen angel's misfortune, she misses her chance yet again. Hanamaru suddenly grimaces and excuses herself. "I-I need to go to the washroom zura-!"

Kanan blinks. "Oh, I'll go with y-"

"We need to stay to hear the announcement, for the winning pair of Yule Ball," Mari lightly taps on Yoshiko's shoulder. "If I recall correctly, you've drank a lot tonight, haven't you?"

"Y-Yeah, I did. I'll go with Zuramaru then. Ruby, you coming?" Though a little confused, she does agree it's better to go with company instead of alone. For some reason, Ruby shakes her head and makes a Rubesty pose.

"Huh? But-"

"Just go already, Yoshiko-chan!"

Still not understanding Ruby's encouraging smile, Yoshiko shrugs and hurries after Hanamaru. In contrast to the boisterous Great Hall and its glamorous decor, the corridors appears rather desolate and even sinister. Candles valiantly light up the path as she walks past some of the straggler students and into the courtyard. Her heels crunch quietly on the thin layer of frozen snow, leftover from days before, and her breath comes out in fleeting white puffs.

Hanamaru is standing in the middle of the garden, seemingly entranced by the bright quarter-moon and the glittering stars in the night canvas above.

"Hey, are you okay? I thought you're going to the washroom?" Yoshiko hesitantly approaches her friend.

"Hmm? Yoshiko-chan?" The brunette glances at her before returning her gaze towards the scenery. "I was… I felt quite dizzy earlier, so I thought it was something I ate zura."

"Pff, you did eat a lot…"

Hanamaru furrows her brows, though her expression relaxes a moment later. "Anyway, as it turns out, I just need some fresh air. I feel a lot better now zura."

"That's good at least. With the way you ran out earlier, I thought you were gonna hurl, heh," Yoshiko then slaps herself inwardly. She needs to stop making fun of the brunette or else she'll never be able to get that dance she wants!

Thankfully, Hanamaru seems to be too engrossed in this tranquil atmosphere to get upset. "What do you think, Yoshiko-chan? This feels like an illustration from storybooks zura. Isn't it beautiful?"

Yoshiko has always found nature to be otherworldly, an abstract concept to be admired and nothing more. The most she can do is immerse herself in the peace that nature offers. Yes, the icy snow appears to blanket the ground and any vegetation in an artistic manner. Yes, the cloudless sky allows the viewer to search among the constellations for possible shooting stars. Yes, the night breeze, while frigid, is also fresh and cleansing.

She glances at the smiling brunette by her side, savoring how the moonlight gently envelopes her form. "Yeah, beautiful."

"Right?" Hanamaru remains oblivious of her companion's gaze as she spreads her arms. "Sometimes I still can't believe it, being here in the world of magic and being able to use magic."

"Uh-huh, I'm with you on that. Hogwarts is… amazing." Yoshiko reaches out and gingerly takes hold of Hanamaru's hands, turning the shorter girl towards her.

Hogwarts never fails to take her breath away even though she has been here half a year already. From time to time, she would find herself admiring her surroundings, whether it is the Aviary, the towers, the forest, or even her own Dormitory. The ancient and austere magical presence makes her humble, makes her feel so incredibly tiny and insignificant.

But that was the same back in the Muggle world, wasn't it? She was just one of the many faces that passed by the shops, walked down the streets, and simply trudged through each day. She was unable to accomplish anything meaningful, and that had depressed her even though she carefully buried such feeling.

And so, this is the one difference between here and the Muggle world. Here at Hogwarts, she is given the ability to make a difference in people's lives and even her own, no matter how little it seems at first.

The adrenaline from before has calmed down to something soothing, like whispers of encouragement from Lady Luck herself.

"Well then, allow me to make this special scene even more fairytale-like."

"Zura?!"

Yoshiko gallantly tugs her companion against her, slipping her arm around the latter's waist. Due to the proximity, the shorter girl could only nestle her head against the crook of Yoshiko's neck.

"Dance with me, Hanamaru."

The brunette makes an incoherent mumble, her ears reddening. Yoshiko could feel Hanamaru's heartbeat against her, so she's certain that the latter could feel hers as well. Though embarrassed, she's also elated to have finally taken this step. Furthermore, unlike her previous experiences, she has not stepped on her partner's foot, has not lost her wits from unexpected movements, and has not carelessly taken control of the dance with her own style.

No, this is a simple slide and glide dance where the pair sways along the melody. The courtyard may be silent, but Yoshiko can clearly hear the music in her pounding heart.

"Y-Yoshiko-chan, you know how to waltz zura-?"

"Heh, the great Yohane learns fast. You're not bad yourself either."

"... I-I'm just following your lead," Hanamaru mutters shyly, leaning into their semi-embrace even more. Yoshiko stiffens and inadvertently stops the dance, with both of her arms wrapped around Hanamaru's waist to steady her.

Neither move from their position, enthralled by this mysterious ambience that encompassed them.

"So, pretty good year so far I'd say. We got to come here, learn magic-"

"- and I got reunited with you, and we've gained so many good friends zura."

"Right. Fantastic banquet, isn't it?"

"It is. Everything about today is… well, it's been magical zura."

Yoshiko nervously pulls away just a little so she could look at Hanamaru. The brunette's flushed cheeks probably mirror her own, encouraging her to do what her heart yearns.

"The perfect way to end the perfect night."

She leans down and smooches Hanamaru's cheek before backing away. The warmth and softness of the brunette's skin lingers on her lips, so tantalizing that she is tempted to kiss her again.

Should she push her luck? Is this too much?

Blushing, Hanamaru appears shell-shocked, staring at Yoshiko with wide, innocent eyes. Though mortified, Yoshiko returns the gaze earnestly to show that she isn't fooling around.

Hanamaru swallows hard, glancing to the right and then to the left while her arms remain loosely wrapped around Yoshiko's waist. As if making up her mind, she places one hand on the taller girl's shoulder and tiptoes.

Their lips meet chastely, once and again.

"Merry Christmas."

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remnantchoices · 7 years ago

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Remnant Choices (A1S1P5): Guarded

[Continued from here.]

You firmly state that your group should take the wide road. You’re worried about what would happen if you ran into Grimm on the narrow path, and the wide road allows you to stay mobile and adaptable.

Halina responds, a bit of hesitation in her voice. “But what about the footprints?”

You shake your head. “We shouldn’t crowd that path with any more people. It’d just get a little too dangerous.”

Metim nods his approval. “And if an Ursa smacks me up there, I’m not bouncing back any time soon.” He’s making a joke, but you can tell that he does agree with your decision. You and Metim begin to turn towards the road, and as you do, Halina holds her hand up to the path, whispering, “Good luck!”

The three of you then take to the road. A silence falls over you as the rain picks up again. It isn’t an oppressive silence, though- just the silence of three individuals trudging up a mud-splashed mountain. You activate your shield for a little warmth, since the wind is chilling you through your ever-more-sodden clothing. Halina walks a bit closer to you, hands outstretched towards your shield. Metim pulls ahead, completely unfazed. Halina nudges you and points at the back of his head. Where his hair was once stylishly-messy, it is now just bedraggled. You have your hoodie and she has her beanie, at least, so you share a snicker.

After continuing on like this for some time, Metim calls out to you both. He’s pointing ahead, where the road ends. The road emerges onto a promontory, which is fairly clear of trees. On the promontory, there sits a dilapidated white tower, slightly overgrown with moss. The three of you silently approach it, hoping for a brief respite from the rain.

You and Metim force its weakened wooden doors open, then rush inside, weapons drawn. There’s no need, though- the tower is empty. There’s only a circular room, unfurnished, with a staircase leading up and another leading down. The three of you head upwards.

You emerge at the top of the tower, encircled by the battlements. You step forward towards the parapet, then gaze at what lies before you. 8From up here, you can see for miles- the land falls out around you, crowded with growth, demurely shrouded by mist. The clouds are low, but you can still see the mountain sloping upwards for a good distance. There’s a glass-like surface towards the top, and it is dazzling with light. It winds away, slowly and sadly dwindling to darkness. It must be a river, caught in the sun, you realize. You exhale, and the breeze tugs at your breath.

You could stand here for hours.

Halina’s voice is tiny up here, barely breaking stillness. “Guys, ahead, look- people.”

You and Metim go to stand by her side. You follow her outstretched arm, and see two figures standing together. They’re partway up the path to the peak. Another figure is running towards the two at a steady pace.

“Students?” You wonder aloud.

“Definitely,” Metim nods.

Without another word, he and Halina head back down. You go to follow them, but pause for a second. You stare at the trees, the river, the light, the clouds, trying to drink it all in, hold it in your memory. But you can’t. You leave with only an impression of the place in your memory.

You promise yourself that you’ll come back.

As you head down the stairs, you realize that you hadn’t tried to go downstairs. You say as much to the others, but Halina shakes her head. “Sorry, dude, I tried, but it’s locked tight.”

Metim looks at the two of you. “We’ll come back,” he says, a little serious.

Halina looks at him, then you. “Deal?”

“Sounds good to me,” you say. Another reason to come back, and a promise- that they’ll keep you close, that you won’t have to enter Aphelion alone.

The three of you then exit the tower to get back on the path, heading towards the people in the distance.

When you reach them, they’re having an intense discussion. “Hey!” Metim shouts from a distance, startling them. The group is two boys and a girl, all dressed rather differently. You don’t have time to linger on their appearance too much right now, though. The girl turns to you immediately, looking irked. “You Aphelion?”

“Yeah!” Halina answers them, then gives a little wave. “What’s up?”

“You’re not gonna be too happy in a second,” says one of the boys. He’s shorter than Metim, with a light copper complexion and dark timber hair that is gelled stiffly upwards. “Right, Pallav?”

“Nah, they can totally help us!” The other boy responds in turn. He’s a bit taller than Metim, with a deep umber complexion and striking sable dreadlocks. “I’m Pallav, that’s Ulrich,” he says, pointing back at the grim-looking boy. “And, she’s- well, we just met-”

“Xia,” the girl says, unimpressed by the haphazard introductions. Unlike the others, she looks really athletic, well-conditioned. She has a tawny yellow complexion, and her long, black hair is pulled back in a high ponytail. “Let’s keep this moving along, yeah?”

“Certainly. Metim, Halina, Ceri,” Metim says, pointing at each of you in turn. “Now, what’s going on?”

“Short version,” Pallav says, an encouraging smile on his face. “There’s a pretty big tiger-looking Grimm like 100 feet up, blocking the path.”

“You haven’t killed it?” Metim’s eyebrows are cocked dramatically.

“That’s what I was saying!” Xia exclaims.

“Well, you see, “ Ulrich says, “it seems to be asleep, and...”

“Honestly, it looks pretty wicked,” Pallav finishes. “Me and Ulrich didn’t even want to mess with it, but it is blocking the path forward.”

“We should kill it,” Xia responds, unyielding. “If we don’t, it just gets the jump on someone else.”

“I don’t think we can take it, though,” Ulrich says. “We should just try to find a way around it, maybe-”

Pallav puts a hand up, interrupting Ulrich. “Look, trying to go around it won’t work. The road only leads ahead, and if we go running off-road and it wakes up, then it’ll pounce on us, and we won’t be prepared. What we could do, actually, now that we have six people, is try to bait it. Think about it- a couple of us could make a disturbance in the woods, right? They lure it out, the rest of us make a break for the road. The two who bait it out, if they’re quick enough, can lose it in the rainforest. They can outrun it and catch back up with the rest of us, and we’re all good. I mean, for something that big, how quick can it be?”

“‘For something that big?’“ Metim asks, sounding a little disturbed. “Wait, exactly how big is this Grimm you’re talking about?”

Ulrich just shakes his head, and Pallav grimaces.

“See!” Xia’s arguing, passionately. “They don’t even want to say! What d’you think’ll happen when it catches the two pieces of bait? But, if the six of us work together, if we coordinate, we can take it, no matter how big it is! And we should kill, we shouldn’t let this mindless monster run around and endanger anyone else!”

Metim shakes his head. “That’s so damn reckless. If it’s that big we’ll be slaughtered, easily-”

“Stop it!” Halina commands them. “Don’t just try to scare everyone into agreeing with you! Just- be honest with each other, and let everyone have a say!”

Pallav steps forward. “You’re totally right- Halina, was it? Thanks, Halina. Your friend, Ceri, hasn’t spoken, actually. Anything to contribute, Ceri?”

You quickly run over the options in your head. you agree that just trying to go around the Grimm is probably a little too reckless, but does that mean that the only ways forward are either choosing to fight it or choosing to bait it?

You think for a second, then you recall the emergency number given to you by Aphelion Academy. Yeah, maybe calling the number is kind of anti-climatic, but, if the Grimm is really so dangerous, maybe it is better to play it safe?

Fighting it is dangerous, but if you all managed to defeat it, it would be a major accomplishment and source of pride. It’d be a hell of a way to start your time at Aphelion.

Baiting it out could also be risky, but if you picked the right people, it might be the nice compromise between fighting and fleeing. You’d put off the discussion of who to send as bait until after you convinced everyone else that this is the best plan, though.

What do you think the six of you should do?

1. Call the number.

2. Fight it out.

3. Bait and run.

Vote on what to say here!

To stay up-to-date on the latest Remnant Choices updates, follow the Remnant Choices Twitter and Tumblr.

[The poll has ended. The next part is here]

#rwby #rwby game #rwby fanfic #fndm #rwby fndm #remnant choices #a1 #a1s1 #a1s1p5

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gibsongirlselections · 4 years ago

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Fantasy Role Playing Elites Predict Post-Election Darkness Across the Land

Everyone is talking about how a group of Democrats and Republican Never-Trumpers came together for a ‘bipartisan’ election wargame that suspiciously seems to be promoting the same nightmare scenario talked up by Trump’s opponents over the last week—that the president will refuse to leave office if he does not win in November.

While Trump’s comments to FOX’s Chris Wallace last month about the possibility of postponing the election didn’t help, and there has been a wave of stories this week in the mainstream media about the president withholding support for the U.S. Postal Service, supposedly to thwart mail-in voting for the Nov. 3 election.

This seems to dovetail nicely with the results of the “secret” wargaming (which took place in June), after which the organizers, who included a who’s who of Washington elites, guaranteed the election would be contested by the losing side. According to reports, John Podesta, a former top aide to President Barack Obama, played Joe Biden. Never-Trumpers David Frum and Bill Kristol portrayed the president. Other participants included former DNC chair Donna Brazile, and former RNC chair Michael Steele.

The emphasis of their findings was clearly on Trump, who they said would likely “use the executive branch to aid his campaign strategy” of denying the popular vote if he loses it. He would, with a “high degree of likelihood,” use the Justice Department and the assistance of Republican governors and legislature to “illegally” overturn the vote so he could “hold onto power.”

The Transition Integrity Project (TIP) describes itself as “a bipartisan group of over 100 current and former senior government and campaign leaders and other experts.” They conducted this wargame to play out four likely scenarios. The results were all bad.

“All of our scenarios ended in both street-level violence and political impasse,” Georgetown law professor and TIP co-founder Rosa Brooks told The Boston Globe. “The law is essentially… it’s almost helpless against a president who’s willing to ignore it.”

Titled Preventing a Disrupted Presidential Election, the tabletop exercises anticipate a “chaotic legal and political landscape.” In general, their findings conclude that America is in for a dangerous transition period between the election and the inauguration in January 2021, regardless of who wins the presidency. In their words, “The concept of ‘election night,’ is no longer accurate and indeed is dangerous.”

If done right, wargaming the upcoming election could be a valuable exercise, considering the stakes and the volatility in American society and politics right now. But this one was clearly biased.

First, TIP minces no words, characterizing Trump as an “authoritarian leader.” Sure, the president does himself no favors in using rhetoric more commonly heard from leaders of banana republics, especially in declaring the elections “rigged” before they have even been held. His constant harping on fraudulent mail-in ballots, while not entirely unfounded, doesn’t exactly dissuade from the conspiracy theories now abounding, either.

But his remarks are also perfectly consistent with how Trump communicates in general—always upping the ante. While he may use the rhetoric of a dictator, he never really acts like one. Trump has already said he is willing to further fund the Postal Service, which will be carrying all those fraudulent ballots, depending on how negotiations with Democrats turn out. When he suggested the election be delayed, critics pointed out he does not have the authority to do so, and it was never mentioned again.

Yet the TIP wargame shows that many Democrats are not at all reassured and remain convinced that 2020 “represents an existential crisis, the last chance to stop a rapid and potentially irreversible U.S. decline into authoritarianism and unbridled nativism.” Given that the wargame resulted in only bad outcomes, with the Trump administration projected to engage in treachery, it makes one wonder—would the left accept the results of the election if Trump won?

While the group observed that supporters of both candidates would likely mount protests in the face of a contested election, TIP appears to view Trump supporters as a unique threat to the country, saying, “The Trump campaign has the real-life capacity to mobilize and, to a significant extent, steer and control the actions of Trump supporters.”

The fixation on Trump supporters as a danger to the public strikes as bizarre since nothing of the the sort ever seems to happen. The December 2019 gun rights rally in Richmond, Virginia, for example, was predicted by the media to end in a bloodbath, but it resulted in only one arrest. To honestly believe conservatives and Trump supporters are just itching to mount a serious uprising, one would need to ignore years of violence, including on inauguration day in January 2017, by anti-Trump and left-wing protestors, to say nothing of the months of protesting and rioting over the death of George Floyd, which have been driven by, among others, Antifa, Black Lives Matter (BLM), and hordes of young people, many of them college-educated, and even lawyers.

The TIP report seems to be just the latest episode in the “othering” of Trump supporters by portraying them as menaces to society, broadly associating them with extremists, or characterizing their views as far beyond permissible. Like all politicians, Trump has his share of problematic followers, but they are primarily lone actors and the facts on the ground simply do not support the narrative of right-wing terrorist sleeper cells ready to pounce on election night. A serious attempt was made to link the 2017 “Unite the Right” rally with Trump’s supporters, too, but it was obvious the event was the refuge of extremists, and such groups have become diminished since that day.

In the TIP report, care was taken to stress that “racial justice activists and others will likely act independently of the Biden campaign—players repeatedly cautioned that these social movements are independent, not beholden to, or a tool of, the Democratic party.” This seems like a preemptive attempt to disassociate Biden from the violent protests sure to occur in the wake of the election, regardless of who wins.

The strangest and most unsettling aspect of the wargames occurs in Scenario Three, in which Trump wins the electoral vote, but not the popular vote (it is worth noting TIP never examines a scenario where Trump wins the popular vote). The scenario assumes the public turns against the electoral college and, with Democrats, calls for its abolition, even resorting to threats of secession and refusing to recognize Trump as the democratically elected president. The scenario ends in a cliffhanger, with neither candidate recognized as the legitimate president.

There is a lot to unpack in this scenario. One, the Democrats, by their own admission, would have trouble accepting a repeat of 2016. Two, TIP assumes most Americans would not tolerate four more years of Trump, despite mounting evidence that Trump supporters generally do not express their views openly, given the prevalence of “cancel culture” and the successful attempt to brand both Trump and his supporters as a sort of societal disease.

Lastly, while the report never calls for military intervention to break an impasse, we must consider recent enthusiasm on the left for such measures. Predicting some sort of slide into authoritarianism under Trump suggests the military may have no choice but to get involved, even if this isn’t said explicitly.

The wargames were not meant to be predictions nor prescriptions. But, when their underlying assumptions are tied together, the message seems to be that not only is an all-out constitutional crisis inevitable, only a definite Biden victory in November could prevent the fall of the republic. Americans should be aware of the potential for a serious political crisis in 2020. But, when closely examined, these bipartisan wargames seem to have a very partisan stench.

Edward Chang is a defense, military, and foreign policy writer. His writing has appeared in The National Interest, The American Conservative, Real Clear Defense, and Spectator USA. He can be followed on Twitter at @Edward_Chang_8.

The post Fantasy Role Playing Elites Predict Post-Election Darkness Across the Land appeared first on The American Conservative.

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steveparker3210-blog · 5 years ago

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Is it possible to give up sugar?

Many of us are addicted to sugar. Want to break the habit and get those no-good empty calories out of your life? This is how to conquer your cravings in 11 easy steps – even if you really, really fancy a Mars bar

1 Know thine enemy

It is droll to observe nutritional advice at the public health level; governments and their agencies always approach obesity as though it were a problem of information or – in the popular phrasing – "awareness". If people only knew how much sugar there was in a Twix, they would simply eat something else.

This knowledge deficit doesn't exist: you won't meet anybody on Earth more intricately apprised of calorie content than someone who is obese. The only people who genuinely don't know shit from sherbet are the authorities themselves, who make a mistake we can recognise from other spheres, viz, they conflate the problem behaviour – in this case, excess sugar – with the people they perceive as causing them a problem. People, for instance, who drink fizzy drinks (except prosecco). So they'll preach two behaviours that are near identical, nutritionally speaking, as the opposing pillars of good and evil. "Drink a fruit juice; do not drink a Lilt. Drink a smoothie; do not drink a McDonald's milkshake." Finally, some exasperated nutritionist will pop up and say, to be honest: "This is all sugar that doesn't fill you up and doesn't even slake your thirst particularly well." And everybody pounces on them and calls them a quack, even though they are right. Related Articles : https://www.sugarfreeblog.com

It is all sugar; it all does the same thing to your bloodstream, and it all begets an appetite for more of itself, as do fags and booze. Leaving aside the thumping idiocies of the Department of Health's Change4Life campaign, the only real fault line is: do you think of it as an addiction or not? If you merely think of it as a matter of self-control, something you like a bit too much and have to master, there is no more a need to excise it from your diet than there is to stop using Twitter just because it drains your time and means you'll never amount to anything. There is only one step necessary for you, the step of "less". If you do see it as an addiction, then cutting down won't be enough, and I refer you to steps two through 11.

2 Cold turkey

"But what if," I said to Frankie from Pure Package, a company that sends perfectly balanced meals, daily, to people with money, "you just really, really fancy a Mars bar?" I have been calling diet people (for work!) since Atkins was fashionable. There will be those among you who don't even remember the outbreak of war against wheat, who weren't even alive in a time before bread was the enemy. Think on that. Anyway, what always charms me is their presentation of preposterous alternatives. So you might say: "What I really love is a buttered crumpet," and they'll go: "That's easy! You can grind some cashew nuts into a sort of makeshift butter and spread it on some kale." That was my motivation in putting the Mars bar question to Frankie, but she wasn't biting. "The only way to stop sugar cravings is to treat it like an addiction and go cold turkey. There's nothing to soften that blow. If you really need to get sugar out of your life, you're going to have to go cold turkey."

3 Beware of fruit

Frankie again: "Fruit has been given a halo so we end up eating too much of it." In fact, there's nothing inherently great about fructose; I mean, you can get too far into these weeds and start sounding like a hippy. Sure, fructose is better than glucose because it comes accompanied by fibre and vitamins. But in and of itself, it is not better, and "should" (still Frankie), "be accompanied by seeds or nuts. The effect of that would be to slow down the insulin spike that the fruit brought to the bloodstream. Overall, it should be, not limited, but not seen as something you can eat all the time in any quantity." Generally, the higher the water content, the less the sugar hit, so oranges are better than bananas. Oranges are also better than mangoes. Oranges, it turns out, actually are the only fruit.

4 Also beware of (some) naturopaths

Some definitions: "dietitian" is the only term that is subject to professional requirements. Anyone can be a nutritionist. "Naturopath" is what nutritionists call themselves when they want to sound a bit more new-age than they already do. The middle term attracts the most scepticism, based on the presumption that just because your field isn't professionally accredited, you do not know anything and you can't process information. People make it about journalists quite a lot as well; this presumption is mistaken. That said, I interviewed lifestyle guru Carole Caplin once, and she asked me to do something the next day, and I said: "Unfortunately, tonight I'm going to get completely drunk, so I most probably won't want to do Pilates/circuit training/zumba tomorrow." She fixed me with a beady eye and said: "I try not to eat too much chocolate, but sometimes I go mad. The other day, I ate something like eight squares of Green & Black's. And afterwards I felt terrible, I had a headache, the shivers, I couldn't get out of bed. Whereas if I'd only had two squares, I'm sure my body would have coped with it." Here's the thing: I'm not convinced that really happened. I think she was using chocolate as a metaphor for booze, in an attempt to find some joint language that we would both understand.

5 Give up alcohol

Many drinkers think they don't have a sweet tooth; indeed, they are faintly derisive of people who do. In fact, they get all their sugar from alcohol and if they ever gave it a rest for even two days, they would realise they have an incredibly sweet tooth.

6 Gary Barlow

Gary Barlow. Photograph: David M Benett/WireImage You know that joke, "how do you know when someone has an iPad? Because they tell you"? This adapts very well to the Take That tax avoider. How do you know how Gary Barlow lost five stone? Because he tells you. In precis, he realised, after years of trial and error, "that he doesn't have the kind of body that allows him to eat whatever he likes" and thereafter, cut out sugar, alcohol, any solids at all after 2pm, and refined carbohydrates. I know! As if he couldn't get any more charismatic.

The point is that Barlow is now at the dead centre of the sugar-free, wheat-free eating crowd, and if you ever want to know how to make a cake out of hemp, Google "Gary Barlow" + "cake out of hemp".

7 Grain differentiation

Spelt, an ancient wheat. Photograph: Alamy The whole issue of carbohydrates and sugars has been maybe irredeemably muddied by people such as Sarah Ferguson eating spelt, and then going: "I went wheat-free and the weight fell off me," and everybody going: "Wow. That's some strange ju-jitsu, considering spelt is just a variety of wheat."

Almost all carbohydrate converts to glucose, except fibre; the less fibre there is, the more will be converted, until you get, like, a Greggs bap that's basically just a glucose tablet without the mysterious wet-dryness.

If you are unsure whether a carbohydrate is refined or unrefined, ask yourself – have I ever thought: "I could murder an X"? Sausage roll, yes. Pearl barley risotto, no. Buttered crumpet, yes. Kale spread with cashew butter, no. The intensity of your desire is an index of the glucose it will deliver. This means a) all refined carbohydrates should be treated as sugars, in your sugar detox, and b) to avoid sugars, you simply avoid all the things you really want.

8 A life without sugar

Coconut oil can be used in cakes. Photograph: Alamy What sugar brings is not, as you might think, sweetness, but texture. So if you have a cake that is wheat-free and sugar-free (there's no real point in being one without the other), it is possible to find alternatives, replacing the wheat with nuts and the sugar with fruit, coconut oil, agave, combinations thereof. The nuts bring clagginess and the fruit is too wet, so the result is soggy and mushy with a mouth-coating trace of clay, a sort of repulsive pabulum whose problem is not its flavour but its mouthfeel. It is better not to replicate your old life, in other words, but to find new hobbies, such as reading. Can Sugar Brain Damage Be Reversed https://www.sugarfreeblog.com/can-sugar-brain-damage-be-reversed

9 Paleo eating

Acceptable food in the Paleo diet. Photograph: Pal Hansen for the Guardian

The best catch-all diet to remove sugar without contravening the copyright of the Atkins diet, this involves eating like our ancestors – very little fruit, almost no grains, a lot of meat and a lot of exercise as you pound away at your treadmill, imagining yourself the predator of the steak you will later eat. Adherents point to the fact that our stone-age ancestors were much healthier than us, having no problems with obesity, cancer or any other diseases that beset our modern age. Pedants point out that the posthumous diagnosis of cancer was pretty patchy until the discovery of the disease in circa 1600BC (some time after the Paleolithic era); and, furthermore, that many ancestors were cut off in their prime by other factors (dinosaurs!), and it is impossible to tell how fat they would have become had they lived to our great age. I mistook this for Palio eating, and thought it meant eating like a jockey, which would be a mixture of chips, power bars and Viagra. 10 Sugar-free alternatives Sugar-free chewing gum. Photograph: Alamy Basically, the trajectory of a sugar alternative goes like this: is discovered; is lauded by all; becomes available in Holland & Barrett; there are suggestions that it is not as wonderful as it was cracked up to be; is abandoned in favour of something else, which has conveniently come along in the meantime. Take stevia – nutritionist Amanda Ashy-Boyd describes this once-wonder ingredient: "It's supposed to be a natural substitute for sugar, but it's not so natural in the sense that it probably goes through multiple chemical processes to be able to add it to the food."

11 Just stop eating it. What are you, a baby?

Or, more diplomatically put by Ashy-Boyd: "It's all about making sure you're eating a balanced diet, so you never get into a place where your blood sugar has dropped." This involves ceaseless snacking of foodstuff with a low glycaemic load, foods that are mainly hummus or things that remind you of hummus or things that are called "hummus" but aren't, in an attempt to appeal to people who only eat hummus (butterbean hummus. Seriously. How is that hummus?). You combine this with an oatcake, or something containing pumpernickel (note: not a German Christmas tree biscuit; these also contain sugar), and you ignore all the people who are looking at you and definitely thinking: "I wish she would just eat properly and not like some kind of idiot koala." "That's one way of protecting yourself," Ashy-Boyd continues. "The other thing is, if you are a big sugar eater, you have to be conscientious about it. Maybe allow yourself a couple of days to go without it. And then once it's out of your bloodstream, it's so much easier to combat that desire."

Cold turkey, see? It's all about the cold turkey.

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readingontheedge · 6 years ago

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Today we have the cover reveal for Kiss Me Goodnight by Jennifer Rebecca! Check it out and be sure to grab your copy today:

Title: Kiss Me Goodnight

Author: Jennifer Rebecca

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Release Day: October 8th

Cover by Alyssa Garcia at Uplifting Design

About Kiss Me Goodnight:

Detective Claire Goodnite is finally marrying her sexy SAIC, Wesley O'Connell in this suspenseful conclusion to the series.

The hall has been booked, the flowers have been ordered, and the invitations have been sent. Everything is finally falling into place for the happy couple, or so it seems.

That is until a hunter the likes of the old DC Sniper has his sights set on New Jersey Law Enforcement and suddenly the thin blue line has a big, old target painted on their backs. It's open season on police officers and federal agents alike. She might be the best damn detective in the state of New Jersey but even this case has Claire running for her life.

Not to mention the loss of one of her inner circle seems to have shook something loose in her mind. Claire's memories of that long ago day when she was taken from her home as a child are surfacing one after another. But will she remember before it's too late?

It's like they always say, every story has its ending.

Are you ready for this one?

It's gonna sting.

Pre-order your copy today!

Amazon | iBooks | Nook | Kobo

Exclusive Excerpt:

It’s you

There is a marching band pounding away in my brain.

I must have had too much to drink at the rehearsal dinner last night. I think. I can get my ass ready for today—my wedding day—because if I don’t, my bestie, Emma, will have my ass.

I pry my eyes open, only then do I realize that I am not in our hotel room on the coast. I’m not in the luxury king bed full of fluffy pillows and down comforters near a window looking out at the ocean. I’m not where I should be. It takes my brain a minute, still feeling as fuzzy as it is, that I’m not . . . safe.

The light shines through the wooden slats of the doors.

I’m here. I am right back where I started. Where I thought I would die when I was so small, just a baby really. I’m where I once escaped and had naively thought I would never be back. I scoot back on the worn, torn carpet floor of the closet that I was locked in once before, until my back hits the wall. I try to make myself as small as possible hoping against all hope that he won’t see me but as I hear the footsteps growing louder and louder, I know that there is no hope to be found at all.

The closet door swings opened and I realize how stupid I have been. All this time that I struggled, that I suffered from those terrible nightmares and prayed that they would either end or I would finally remember just who had tried to harm me when I was just six years old. All those times I thought I was safe, that I was free, were really nothing but lies because looking down at me with a sinister smile on his face in this little house of horrors from my haunted past is the last person I ever would have thought would be capable of this kind of thing.

I was never free, I was living under the watchful eye of a monster, a wolf in sheep’s clothing just waiting for their chance to pounce. His smile broadens and his eyes glimmer with excitement in the knowledge that he’s won. It’s finally over, this game of cat and mouse that we have been silently engaged in for twenty four years.

He pulls his leather belt free from his pants and loops it around my neck. I look up into his warm eyes, ones that I had always trusted as he tightens the leather around my neck.

“It’s you. It was always you,” I say as suddenly every memory finally clicks into place. Anna would be so proud.

I gasp as the air is squeezed out of my lungs. I struggle to pull more in even though in my brain I know that it isn’t possible. Maybe this is how it was always supposed to be. Maybe this is how my story was always supposed to end. My name is Detective Claire Goodnite and I’m about to die.

You know what they say, every story has its ending, I just wish I was prepared.

I can already tell that this one’s gonna sting . . .

Catch up on the series:

Tell Me A Story:

Amazon | iBooks | Kobo | Nook

Tuck Me In Tight:

Amazon | iBooks | Nook | Kobo

Say a Sweet Prayer:

Amazon | iBooks | Kobo | Nook

About the Author:

Jennifer is a thirty something lover of words, all words: the written, the spoken, the sung (even poorly), the sweet, the funny, and even the four letter variety. She is a native of San Diego, California where she grew up reading the Brownings and Rebecca with her mother and Clifford and the Dog who Glowed in the Dark with her dad, much to her mother’s dismay.

Jennifer is a graduate of California State University San Marcos where she studied Criminology and Justice Studies. She is also an Alpha Xi Delta.

10 years ago, she was swept off her feet by her very own sailor. Today, they are happily married and the parents of a 8 year old and 6 year old twins. She can often be found in East Texas on the soccer fields, drawing with her children, or reading. Jennifer is convinced that if she puts her fitbit on one of the dogs, she might finally make her step goals. She loves a great romance, an alpha hero, and lots and lots of laughter.

www.JenniferRebeccaAuthor.com

[email protected]

facebook.com/JenniferRebeccaAuthor

Twitter: @JenniRLreads

Instagram: @JenniRLreads

#romance #thriller #amazon #kindle

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carasueachterberg · 6 years ago

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“She was more like a beauty queen from a movie scene….”

Billie Jean is our newest foster. She arrived two days after the Suess Boys, so she’s been completely upstaged by their tiny but massive presence in our rescue world (YES- they have adopters and a long list of back-up adopters!).

Billie Jean has been in OPH care for over a month but spent a good part of that time in a boarding facility in Virginia because there wasn’t a foster home available. She had several sleepovers at various foster homes and enjoyed attending adoption events where she made many fans, just no adopters. No worries, though, this is a great little dog whose family is out there no doubt.

Like lots of OPHers, I was smitten by her pictures – she’s gorgeous, no?

But she was all the way down in Virginia and besides, she’d get scooped up soon, I told myself. And anyway, I had the muppets, so I figured I’d never meet her in person.

But when yet another weekend of adoption events came and went and no one jumped on her, I hedged. After all, I just had these two little gerbils to care for….certainly, I could take a dog too……….so two days after the arrival of my two tiny unicorns, Billie Jean arrived (thanks Becky for driving her up!).

We are enjoying Billie Jean. She’s housebroken, does fine in the crate at night, and gets along with everyone in the house except the cat.

Hermoine has survived 113 foster dogs to date, but this #114 dog might be her undoing. Billie Jean is relentless. She. Must. Chase. Poor Hermoine is spending more time outside than in, despite the rain this week.

Billie Jean is an Australian Cattle Dog mix, which means that she is busy. The dog has things to do and places to go. Her bright, clever mind is always up to something. She loves her toys and in the absence of a human to engage with her, will play with them by herself – tossing and pouncing and shaking and chasing.

Billie Jean was busy entertaining herself last night while we were eating dinner and more than once, the stuffed toy/rope remnant she was playing with ended up on the table. The dinnertime entertainment in this foster home can’t be beat.

She’s a powerful chewer and needs tough toys like antlers and bones because she can shred pretty much everything else. That said, she is very respectful and after a few corrections when she reaches for a shoe or a chair leg, it’s a non-issue.

Billie Jean is quite a devotee pup who shadows me everywhere, even waiting outside the bathroom door. Maybe the thing I appreciate the most about her is that she’s quiet. When the barn cat streaks across the yard, Frankie and Gracie will barks for twenty minutes despite the fact that the cat is long gone, but Billie Jean just watches the spot where the cat disappeared into the woods, silently. She knows better than to waste her voice.

The notes I read before Billie Jean arrived said she was ‘indifferent to other dogs,’ and that was definitely the case for the first few days. She ignored Frankie’s overtures and appeared not to even hear Gracie’s welcoming snarls. But Frankie watched her play by herself flipping her toys and pouncing and he saw the potential there. Again and again, he invited her for a game of run around the coffee table or face-wrestling. Finally after three days, she caved and tentatively began a game of wrestle-on-the-bed-and-mess-up-the-covers-and-make-mom-yell. There was no turning back.

Now they are tight – sometimes too tight as they’ve had a couple angry tussles over toys. Here’s today’s face-wrestling match (it’s too wet outside to wrestle in the yard and mom yells when they wrestle on the furniture).

Billie Jean and Gracie still ignore each other’s presence, but Billie Jean wears out Frankie with her invitations to play. It makes me wish she’d met Gomer -the two of them would have been a constant whirlwind of activity.

Billie Jean is new to leash walking but getting better every day. And the same way that Frankie convinced her to play, she is convincing him that walks are fun. Nick and I took the two of them over four miles the other night, with no protests from Frankie. And here I have to mention how good fostering is for personal dogs – it makes them not only flexible and tolerant, it also encourages good habits. Billie Jean isn’t the first foster dog to teach one of my personal dogs to appreciate what he’s got.

Okay, okay, I’ll give you an update on the unicorns. As previously mentioned, THEY ARE ADOPTED. They are still here, though, because puppy fostering protocol dictates that they stay with me for two weeks to ensure they are healthy, happy, and ready to go to their forever homes.

I think having these rare little guys has been good and bad for the rescue. They certainly garnered a lot of attention and an unprecedented number of applications (they were finally removed from the website because it was unfair to allow more applications to come in for puppies who had more than twenty applications in front of them).

This was good because it introduced OPH to lots of new potential adopters. So that will hopefully translate to saving more dogs.

The bad part is that inevitably many of the applicants for these precious pups will be disappointed. It can’t be helped, but it doesn’t take away the sting for people who had their hearts set on these boys.

For that I’m sorry, but I hope these people who were ready to open their hearts and home to a new puppy will keep looking and be open to the many hornless unicorns we have available. Because while I said these puppies were unicorns because they are rare and special, by definition that means we have an entire website full of unicorns because every dog is rare and special. They are all good dogs for the right person.

Thanks for reading!

If you’d like to know more about my blogs and books, visit CaraWrites.com or subscribe to my monthly e-newsletter.

If you’d like to know more about the book, Another Good Dog: One Family and Fifty Foster Dogs (which comes out two weeks from TODAY!!!), check out my new website, AnotherGoodDog.org, where you can find more pictures of the dogs from the book (and some of their happily-ever-after stories), information on fostering, and more!

If you’d like to know how you can volunteer, foster, adopt or donate with OPH, click here. And if you’d like more regular updates of foster dogs past and present and extra puppy pictures, be sure to join the Another Good Dog facebook group.

I love hearing from readers, so please feel free to comment here on the blog, email [email protected] or connect with me on Facebook, twitter, or Instagram.

Best,

Cara

COMING AUGUST 7, 2018 from Pegasus Books and available for preorder now:

They're All Unicorns, aren't they? At least to me. #dogrescue #anothergooddog #fosterdogs “She was more like a beauty queen from a movie scene….” Billie Jean is our newest foster.

#australiancattledog #billiejean #blueheeler #dogadoption #dogrescue #dogs #fosterdogs #hypoallergenicdogs #unicorns

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robertawilliams · 6 years ago

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As Britain Stumbles Over Brexit, Support Grows for 2nd Vote

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Protesters waving European Union flags gathered in Cardiff, Wales, last month at a site where a pro-Brexit event was supposed to take place.CreditJim Wood/SOPA Images, via Getty Images

FFORESTFACH, Wales — In a 2016 referendum, Stephanie Holtom voted to leave the European Union, worried about immigration and convinced that other countries were telling the British government what to do.

But outside a supermarket recently in a large, suburban strip mall not far from the Welsh city of Swansea, Ms. Holtom conceded she might have been wrong.

“I agreed to come out of Europe, but I am beginning to have second thoughts. I think it’s a mess, and I’m sick to death of it,” said Ms. Holtom, who is retired, as she collected her shopping cart. She added that, if there were a second referendum, “people would vote to stay.”

Since a majority of Britons voted narrowly to leave the bloc more than 18 months ago, most politicians have treated a withdrawal, known as Brexit, as inviolable. Even amid signs of a slowing economy, few saw signs of a shift in public opinion.

London may be almost 200 miles away, but people here in Wales have noticed that Prime Minister Theresa May is struggling to negotiate Britain’s departure from the bloc, and to control her bitterly divided cabinet. “I think Theresa May is absolutely hopeless,” Ms. Holtom said.

As the political stalemate drags on, and with business leaders issuing ever more urgent alarms about the threats to the economy, growing public doubts are beginning to register in some opinion polls. And opponents of Brexit are quietly cultivating what they see as that rising sentiment in their campaign to soften, if not reverse, the whole process.

They even picked up support from an unexpected quarter when Nigel Farage, the former U.K. Independence Party leader and the leading proponent of Brexit, recently suggested that there might be a second referendum.

Prominent “leavers,” as supporters of Brexit are known, dismiss that possibility out of hand, but it may not be as far-fetched as they would have people believe.

Some time later this year Parliament is likely to face a fateful vote on the actual terms of any agreement Mrs. May can reach with the European Union on Britain’s withdrawal. A defeat in Parliament would prompt a political crisis, very likely topple Mrs. May and possibly prompt a general election. Potentially, that could open the way to a rethink, to new Brexit options, or to a second referendum.

That is what people like the local Swansea lawmaker, Geraint Davies, from the opposition Labour Party, are banking on. He believes the tide is turning against Brexit in Wales, where a majority opted to quit, although Wales is a big recipient of European development aid, and has several industries that might lose from Brexit.

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Prime Minister Theresa May is struggling to negotiate Britain’s departure from the European Union.CreditPaul Ellis/Agence France-Presse — Getty Images

“What I am sensing is that people who voted Brexit in good faith are now saying, ‘Hold on, that’s not what I voted for, and I want a final say,’” Mr. Davies said, listing promises made during the 2016 referendum, including one — later ruled misleading by the country’s statistics authority — that quitting would free up 350 million pounds a week, or about $486 million, for health spending.

“You should have the right to look again, and say: ‘You ordered a steak and you ended up with a bit of chewed up bacon. Do you want to accept that?’” Mr. Davies added, arguing that Britain faces higher inflation and slower growth, and that, far from getting money back, it has offered around 39 billion pounds, or about $54 billion, in divorce payments to the European Union.

Mr. Davies and others have also pounced on recent reports that the areas in Wales and central and northern England that voted most strongly for Brexit are set to suffer the greatest economic harm from the rupture.

Experts say they have detected a subtle shift, in Wales and elsewhere. Though few people admit to changing their views, there is growing support for a vote on the terms of any Brexit deal, according to Roger Awan-Scully, a professor of political science in the Wales Governance Center at Cardiff University.

“There is some change on whether there should be another referendum on the issue,” he said. “We have seen a move towards the idea of the public having a greater say.”

Hard-line supporters (and opponents) of Brexit remain steadfast in their views, but many of the less committed have yet to fully focus on what it will mean and have been turned off by the stream of complex, sometimes contradictory, reports emerging from the tortuous negotiations. “It’s a bit like the O.J. Simpson trial: It keeps going on and on and people tune out of it,” Mr. Awan-Scully added.

And with signs that public opinion is volatile and could be shifting, the political ice is starting to crack.

When Tony Blair, a former prime minister, called last month for another plebiscite, Brexit supporters derided him as a pillar of a failed, elitist, pro-European establishment.

But it was hard to say the same when Mr. Farage suggested there should be another vote. Though Mr. Farage appeared later to retreat on the idea, Arron Banks, a big financial supporter of one of the Leave campaigns, endorsed it as well. For hard-line leave supporters, a referendum is a chance to once and for all kill off the argument to stay, and precipitate a clean break with the bloc.

Pro-Europeans, by contrast, would like a plebiscite on the specific terms of any deal negotiated by Mrs. May’s government, with the option to remain in the bloc if voters prefer.

Nigel Farage, center, the former leader of the U.K. Independence Party and a leading proponent of Brexit, recently suggested that there might be a second referendum.CreditAdam Ferguson for The New York Times

Several things would have to happen to make that a reality, including a change of government policy and, almost certainly, of prime minister.

Some say it is too late to rethink the withdrawal, given that Britain has invoked its two-year exit clause. Others say that to date the shift in British public opinion, if any, is simply not big enough, and that Brexit support remains strong outside the big cities and in many working-class communities.

But the logic of having a second referendum is compelling. The 2016 vote was a choice between leave and remain, yet was silent on the path that Britain should take thereafter.

At the two extremes, these are starkly different prospects. A so-called soft Brexit could keep Britain integrated within the European Union’s economic model and part of its single market and customs union, accepting all its rules, albeit without having a say over them.

A hard Brexit might cut most of those ties, and take the country toward a low regulation, low tax economy — “Europe’s Singapore” — for example.

The problem is that there is no specific democratic mandate for either option, or even for Mrs. May’s preferred (though probably unobtainable) idea of something in between. So any outcome is likely to be contested for years to come.

Within Mrs. May’s government, the implications of Brexit are causing concern, even as hard-line Brexit supporters step up their campaign for a clean break from the bloc.

Following the leak of a government analysis that predicted the British economy would suffer under all of the most likely scenarios, one minister, Phillip Lee, wrote on Twitter that, if the figures were anywhere near right, “there would be a serious question over whether a government could legitimately lead a country along a path that the evidence and rational consideration indicate would be damaging.”

One obstacle to another referendum is the Labour leader, Jeremy Corbyn, a lifelong Euroskeptic, who currently rejects the idea — despite arguing that, unlike Mrs. May, he would negotiate a withdrawal that would protect British jobs.

Yet, if Mrs. May reaches a Brexit deal that takes Britain out of the bloc’s economic structures, Mr. Corbyn would face overwhelming pressure to oppose it, a move that, if successful, could bring down the government.

A view of Swansea. The city voted in favor of Brexit but one of its Labour lawmakers, Geraint Davies, believes opinion has since shifted.CreditAlex Atack for The New York Times

Mr. Davies argues that the Labour Party’s large number of youthful members — the bedrock of Mr. Corbyn’s support — are strongly pro-European and want a second referendum.

Calls for a reconsideration of Brexit have come not only from Labour’s centrist lawmakers, but from some of Mr. Corbyn’s allies on the left, like Paul Flynn, a leading Labour member of Parliament from Wales.

“Isn’t it time to rethink this whole nonsense and plan for a second referendum where the nation comes to its senses?” Mr. Flynn recently asked at a parliamentary committee hearing.

Len McCluskey, a union leader and a close ally of Mr. Corbyn, wants Labour to oppose any Brexit deal that Mrs. May puts to Parliament, and has not ruled out supporting another referendum.

Of course, even if there were a second vote, it is far from clear that it would reverse the original verdict. Taking a break in central Swansea, Robert Hughes, a bus driver, said that as far as the Brexit talks are concerned, the public are “like mushrooms — we are kept in the dark.”

But he still supports Brexit. “We had a vote, it’s not best of three. Once it’s run, it’s run,” he said.

Back at the mall in Fforestfach, a spirited debate was going on in the coffee shop between two people whose views encapsulate some of Britain’s divisions.

Gerard Turley, director of an investment company and a Conservative Party voter, felt the pull of Brexit but concluded that the economic price would be too high.

“With my heart I wanted to go, but my head said stay,” he said, adding that he feels his decision to remain had been vindicated.

His wife, Christine Turley, a housewife, said that she voted to quit to stop “people in Brussels making our laws,” though she believes that, in fact, it was “too complicated a subject” for a straight yes or no vote.

“Now I’m not sure I made the right decision,” she added. “There is so much doom and gloom about how badly off we will be.”

Source

https://www.nytimes.com/2018/02/10/world/europe/uk-brexit-second-referndum.html

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