#just found it that controversial cover is getting pride of place

[metamatar]

I saw a lot of people reblog that post bemoaning the death of National Geographic with the picture of Sharbat Gula that graced their cover prominently, and I think its worth considering the role that organisations like NatGeo and its photographers play.

That photo was taken coercively of an 8 year child, the photographer didn't care to find out her name and lied about her story to make her seem more sympathetic and it threatened her life considerably. There's also the dimensions of the exotic oriental being invoked when choosing a green eyed brown girl to represent Afghanistan.

[6blackfilin9]

I love your Anko fanart! Tell me, what are your views/headcannons on Anko X Kazuku?

hThank you so much for the ask, finally I can answer it

here is my big thank you for the waitng

In a nutshell, the shipp was created by accident while me and my buddy were working on our first Naruto AU in 2019, where Kakuzu and Deidara survived their shitty plotholes end eventually ended up in Konoha

Yeah

so, the shipp’s birth date is july the 1, 2019

anything like classy, aristocracy kind of tension-filled passionate gothic romance with playful, psychological games & hurt/comfort vibes with slight scent of rivalry is KakuAnko

Basically, they are: a very, very old man with absolutely horrendous background who’s trying to finally have his mother*cking 10 or 30 years of peace, and a rather young lady with a rocky youth who’s being good & noble yet has very strong antihero tendencies

You know, I think they do have potential, since, in fact, they seem to be very similar, at the core

They are both very pragmatic realists, the people of logic and reason, yet if Kakuzu’s irritability doesn’t affect him a tiny bit due to his ideal self-control, Anko’s can lead her to quite bad places, sometimes. They put their interests in the first place, and even though she tries to attach them to Konoha’s, she still has ‘personal’ things (I’ll write ‘bout it lower*). Their mindsets are so complicatedly organized that, at some point & way, it prevents them from having many close people, and makes them very hard to see through and predict

Both of them are very flexible & adaptive, independent individuals with similar outlooks on plenty of things and high intellectual level. They clearly can find plenty of traits that they would highly respect and adore in each other

Here I will speak mostly for “why and how” kind of things, bc both of them are terribly tricky to accurately figure out. But there will be some headcanons too

So, there are still some odds about them, due to the strong difference in their occupation, like, in plenty of cases they are really tricky to be brought together, because:

- Of the job

In original, Anko is a Konoha’s special jounin, and she is very dedicated to serving the country. Independently of whether she likes her job or not (depends on the plot), she orienteers at the people, at society’s gain from her work. So, accordingly, in any other AU her job is somehow connected to civil service, whether it’s something police-like, connected to science, or something like CCG in Tokyo Ghoul

Kakuzu, on the other hand, is a hitman and a persona non grata in literally all the five big countries, Konoha too (which makes it barely possible to bring them together in the original universe without hard complications or heavy drama. But still possible). He orienteers on his own gain alone, but, depending on the job, it can include others’ gain, too.

This detail makes him a saint once he holds supervising position in some company or any high position in the government (the better the working conditions of the staff now- the more money in the prospective), and the sheer nightmare once he has it on the opposite side of the law. Him as a mob boss is a complete different topic for discussion, but to get the point, in this case, the trouble isn’t him increasing the level of criminality (its rather vice-versa), but taking hold of too much control in the high and underground structures. Even as an ordinary hitman he’s rather tricky, since everything depends on the case

In most of the stories, they come to some sort of compromise, and how hard it is to reach it depends on how shitty his job is and how attached they are to each other at the moment

Like, in the above mentioned Shippuden AU and Harry Potter AU (which I also wrote with my buddy) everything went like clockwork, because there they are both more or less on this side of the law, in Tokyo Ghoul AU (which I also wrote with my buddy) it is a bit more complicated, with her being in-law and him being very much outlaw, in the Avatar AU (which I also figured out with my buddy, but we never happened to write it) it is also pretty smooth, with both of them being outlaws and then jumping out to the glory after all the shit is done, but in another Shippuden AU of mine, this all would be just a motherfucking bloody disaster

- Kakuzu is actually a hard nut to get attached to anyone

He lived too long to be truly afraid of anything, though. Its mostly because he doesn’t really need to get attached to or become close with someone to satisfy his need for communication. The man can get along with anyone once he wishes to, he can have countless acquaintances and plenty of buddies, but he doesn’t have many comrades and barely can call anyone a friend. Because he is used to lose everything and everyone he ever had or happened to have, because of his inhumanly lengthened lifespan.

It requires time for him to get used to the person, and then, eventually, in some cases, spend plenty of it to get attached

Plus, for him, due to his profession, each close connection is a really great responsibility for him. In most cases, he’d think twice of weather he is ready to take it or not

Though it of course has the personal factor, too

In Anko’s case, she has a grand privilege by being a very intelligent and keen woman, not just in cognitive plane, but in emotional, too. High emotional intellect is actually a rare trait, so she automatically stands out of the crowd for him. Even though it won’t guarantee his alliance, it will grant her his high respect and some sort of sympathy

- Kakuzu is, technically, an asshole

He does have his moral compass, which includes a great amount of common social morality, but he also has that “I am working” state

Even though Kakusu has a set of professional principles, and he still acts accordingly to what he thinks is right, one and the very same situation can be solved diametrically different once the context changes from working to casual and vice versa

This, and him being very independent and quite antisocial, makes the degree of assholeness depend on various factors

This can lead to major conflicts of interests, and if they are possible to have any compromise or not is strongly attached to the circumstances. After all, both are very, very prideful and dignified people

- In other words, the only major issue for them would be morality questions. It’s possible to make the case acceptable for Anko, since both of them ain’t truly squeaky clean, along with Kakuzu being willing enough to watch his borders

- She is provident and doesn’t really need a lot of money on a daily basis, which is much of a joy to him lol

- *they both seek for the stable ground, first of all

Taking in consideration the life conditions Kakuzu had in his youth (despite war state, he still stably had family, friends, grand respect from everyone, home, warmth and food) and how terribly he was torn out of his secured social environment, I believe what he seeks through all his bounty hunt and other money-connected manipulations is stability. Sustainability he had back then. The only way to have it in the conditions of our existent world order is to have money (and a very good mind and luck)

Anko has indeed much more altruistic motives, yet it’s still not that simple. It seems to be, on the first sight, yet considering the “Orochimaru related cases” and her very wayward behavior toward them, it’s clear she keeps her own motives and needs in mind oh so well. The service she has is very well payed, it allows her to do what she likes or believes is right, and to have the living conditions she finds comfortable. And only here, relying on the made sustainable basis, she does what she does

- Thus, they both illustrate the principle “first help yourself, next help the other” just right

- She knows she can keep an eye on him, yet it’s clear for her that her influence isn’t borderless, as well as telling him off some stuff is kind of a not wise thing to do. So in the majority of cases, she never interferes

- This is not common, yet he can actually change some plans if the situation is serious and the compromise can’t be found. He is that kind of person who works on a further prospective, and in this context, this would be the relationship with his loved one

- While Kakuzu is quite conflicted and has very reserved controversial persona, Anko is both controversial, conflicted, and sort of two-faced, on top of that

She is a very sincere, cheerful and humbly honest human being, yet she has some darker natural traits of her character that became rather strong with age and traumatic experience. Cunningness, guile, ways-depend-on-the-case and a bit of ruthlessness, that is. Moreover, she has some unsolved personal issues, which makes her even more twisted.

Like, remember the time when she confronted Orochimaru during the exam? And Kabuto, on the war? Getting rid of them is indeed beneficial for Konoha, but it’s clear that for her it is personal vendetta in the first place. She wouldn’t have tried to do this alone, otherwise, because these two are rather dangerous ones, to say the least.

She uses greater good to cover her real motives (even though it is not truly complete bullshit), and seems to have a terrible habit to keep silence about really important things, which makes her quite prone to lying, in some cases

And sometimes it very badly pisses Kakuzu off, since it makes her prone to doing useless but dangerous shit too

Yet this not any kind of separate hidden side, it is integrated into her personality, and coexists with her bright one. That’s where her violent humour comes from, for example.

But Kakuzu, on the other side, is completely monolith individual, yet sometimes his mindset can create contradictions when it comes to something important to him. but it's another topic

And seeing these layered constructions, and motives, they can pretty finely predict each other’s behavior. Not super-neatly, but they for sure see the basis. This is what helps Kakuzu to prevent Anko from doing some stupid shit, sometimes

- Anko has a role of an indicator for the people who don’t understand and see the changes in Kakuzu’s mood sometimes, since she usually reacts quite openly. Yet, when she has the same unreadable mask of cold, or one of guile, it’s a nightmare for them

- They prefer the non-verbal way to show their feelings, even though Anko is obviously the more chatty one

- They don’t say things such as “I love you”, or other sensual stuff like that really often, believing it to be some sort of cherished words that shall not be spelled mindlessly

- Anko isn’t majorly into PDA, but she fancies it much more than Kakuzu does. She has her whole moments of studying something with her hands, whether it’s a hand, scar or face. He’s more into passive display of affection, like wrapping an arm over her waist or leaning to her or something of this kind; they can allow themselves to (not sexually) kiss in public though

- She knows he doesn’t like to walk hand in hand due to considering it a youthful thing, so there are times when she intentionally walks holding on to his sleeve; generally they walk separately in order not to bother each other, but sometimes they walk arm in arm (like an old Victorian couple lol)

- Being older and wiser, Kakuzu eventually upholds some kind of mentoring position, yet he never considers himself any kind of a teacher or master to Anko, believing her to have a good head of her own. He is just insightful enough to break something through to her or give a word of advise

- This, combined with his highly powerful demeanor, also makes him have the leading position in their relationship

- Anko respects him much enough to fortify this, entrusting with plenty of life questions (like organizing the family budget), even though they make the majority of decisions together. Mostly because he is truly wise and highly experienced individual.

- This makes him one of the very few people Anko would actually listen to and take their opinion in consideration

- So basically they have equal relationship with some tendency to patriarchal order

- And it is, really, mostly economically-based disbalance, with him earning much more than she does

- Yet they never have any financial-based issues, since both of them keep in mind and respect the contributions of each

- There is major power play here, too. He has the absolute might, she has seduction. Anko loves how he makes her want to submit to him, let him have all the power, so she likes provoking him. And she knows he adores it, loves the subtle control she has over him

- They don’t have conflicts in their everyday life. Each knows how to avoid pissing one another off

- He cherishes her playful demeanor, her intellect. Combined with her cunningness, it allows her to rival him, in social sphere. The way she constructs her phrases, the way she speaks, mimics, moves, how bewitchingly it suits her feminine snaky features makes his blood boil and heart melt

- Both of them, actually, have rather specific kind of dry, dark humour. Kakuzu’s is very cynical, satirical, quite often menacing and subtly demeaning; Anko’s is very sarcastic and quite dirty, even gruesome and rather violent

- Sometimes they “fight” verbally as a form of a play. In some circumstances they may sound pretty vile, so some unobservant people mistake this for display of hate

- In general, Anko is the one to heat things up with her playful demeanor, which can include provocation and rivalry, and Kakuzu is the one to keep this energy in borders, accumulating it up to much more intense states

- They both put the comfort in the first place when it comes to household. Everything must be cozy, useful, silent and super clean

- Yet they are both very unpretentious and modest, really

- She absolutely adores when he is showing his serious, severe side, or powerful demeanor. She finds it incredibly suitable for him. She also likes how his real age is sliding out in this or that way. Like, even though he has rather young face (that of 37-40 y.o.), his eyes give away that he’ve seen oh so much more than it seems; the grumpy noises and grunts he makes, the lazy attitude in movements and the way how rapidly he finds a comfy pose once he has a chance to take a seat

- They are both rather patriotic, yet while in the most stories Anko’s feelings mostly lay towards the country she lives in, Kakuzu’s more often lay towards some places, so called small motherland.

- Kakuzu actually could be a source of deep, strong admiration and delight for her, despite all of his bullshit. The unbreakable will he has, mighty burning heart, all the wisdom, talents and mind. Being sent to fight god damn Hashirama, clearly a genius of his times, financial & management genius at the least. And, still, after all the hard times he’ve been through, he maintained the very strong sense of dignity and nobility, even though slightly twisted due to the profession and abnormal lifespan

- And the very same things can serve as the source for her chagrin: with all those traits, he could have been so much more rather than a criminal. With all the gifts he’ve got, he could have been of great use to society. He’s much easier about this, since his prospective is much wider and embraces decades (and in some universes even centuries) instead of months & years, and he knows that he’d be switching sides throughout his life, being on this and that side of the law, yet he still is a bit uncomfortable once it’s brought up

- They are deeply into science, which makes them atheists. He’s into medicine and human biology, she’s into chemistry and reptilian biology; both of them are nuts for physics, history and psychology

- They solve complicated physical and mathematical problems together time to time. She is the first one to have tea-breaks due to losing her temper over it, he tries to figure things out right until you can sense the smoke coming off his head

- Actually, they do have a stumbling stone aside from job & morality complications. And this is Anko’s attitude towards Orochimaru

What she does is basically ruins her life very-very slowly, maintaining the issues she has and planning to make him pay for all he’s done

Kakuzu knows exactly what is really going on with this attitude and why, but he can’t really do anything about it. Like, he knows he can’t make her change her mind or put something into her head

All he can do is really nothing but try to explain how those things are working, and even this option is basically a landmine field for him. At some level she does understand that he could probably be right, yet she just refuses to go back on her mind. And this is actually really dangerous, so at some moments they can fight quite badly about it

- He’s scared shitless to lose her, though; especially like that, even though he knows clearly that he will, anyway, sooner or later

- he knows that losing loved ones ends up with sheer disaster for him, yet he isn’t afraid to pay such a high price for those six, five or four decades of being with her. Because these decades are that of a paradise ones for him. Wife and family, as well as stable job, incomes and life conditions, are some sort of physical definitions of sustainability he craves. Especially family, yet it’s far ahead to plan

- The fact that he will have to bury her one day makes her rather depressed, as well as the knowledge that the only thing she can really do about it is to try to bring him as much happiness and comfort as possible before she dies

thank you, i'd say more, but it's too much already

[lesdemonium]

romtober day 1: fake dating

Rating: T Ship: Geraskier Word Count: 2421 Summary:  Jaskier is invited to his parent's annual banquet, and to keep the nobles (and his parents) off his back, he asks Geralt to pose as his husband. Geralt completes this task a little too well. 

read on ao3  

The banquet was the picture of opulence. Not a single expense was spared, and Jaskier could read the envy in the partygoers eyes as he passed them. His mother really had outdone herself this time; even Jaskier had to admit he was impressed. It was difficult for him to admit that, considering his family was as close to the heart--and hurt feelings--as they were.

Even the music was amazing. Now that took some effort to admit to. It would have been better, of course, if he’d had the opportunity to play for the banquet, but Jaskier knew that was a far-fetched idea at best. His mother and father still liked to tell the other “respectable” company that he was off studying, taking his time and exploring the world, before he came back to accept his title and lands. Truly, it was giving him a good head on his shoulders, allowing him to be worldly and lead the people of Lettenhove with grace and wisdom. It helped that they only referred to their wayward son as Julian; even in these circles, Jaskier was proud to say his stage name carried.

Despite the beauty, despite the fine wine and food, despite the beautiful lords and ladies around him, Jaskier was having a terrible night. It was his own fault, he knew. When he had received his invitation--really a summons, as Jaskier knew he had little choice but to accept--he had panicked. Another event in which his parents tried to court him into staying and taking over as Count, and tried to get him to court a lady or two of agreeable upbringing. Jaskier couldn’t stomach the dread. So he had asked Geralt for a favor.

Geralt was delivering.

“Darling,” Geralt started, drawing Jaskier’s attention back to the task at hand--a conversation with the Duke of some township or other. The hand Geralt had on the small of Jaskier’s back sent shocks of heat through Jaskier’s body, every time it moved ever-so-slightly. “There was a vineyard in Dorian, wasn’t there? The one where the owner gave you five bottles?”

That was an interesting retelling. Much more polite than saying that Jaskier stole the bottles after the owner had insulted Witchers and tried to cheat Geralt out of his pay for dispatching a pack of drowners tainting the water supply. Jaskier was learning a lot about just how talented Geralt could be at traversing a crowd of nobles--when he wanted to.

“Ah, there’s some controversy over that. Technically, when the borders changed, that vineyard moved to Maribor. Ask any of the workers, though, and it’s still in Dorian,” Jaskier answered, just barely remembering to add a smile at the end.

The duke guffawed and wagged his finger at Geralt; apparently Jaskier had managed to settle something for them, but Jaskier hadn’t been listening to the rest of the conversation. He wasn’t listening now, even, as Geralt continued on with the Duke as if this was something he just did on a regular basis.

Geralt was baffling. Jaskier had expected him to say no to Jaskier’s favor. Why would he want to pretend to be Jaskier’s husband at the party Jaskier’s parents threw every year? Even Jaskier didn’t want to go, which might have been partly why he even asked Geralt in the first place. Part of him was holding out hope that Geralt would give him an out.

Instead, Geralt had not only agreed, but had listened to every bit of advice and every pointer Jaskier had given him. All night he had been impressive--he had even managed to charm Jaskier’s mother. Jaskier did not often find himself at a loss for words, but apparently watching Geralt entertain a noble with stories of monster slaying with an unfortunately well-behaved hand on the small of Jaskier’s back was enough to render Jaskier speechless for hours. He had been the disappointing one all night.

“Excuse me,” Jaskier said, bowing a little as he shrugged himself out of Geralt’s grasp. It was rude, Jaskier knew, and if Geralt had done it he would have… well, he would have expected it, and maybe would have silently thanked him for the out, while outwardly complaining about his lack of decorum. But Geralt had been the picture of grace all night. Jaskier was the one that had been disheveled and thrown off guard and, at times, downright rude.

Jaskier couldn’t bring himself to care at the moment, however. Let the nobles talk. He knew they all would as soon as they left no matter what happened tonight, so Jaskier might as well underperform rather than living up to the lies his parents were no doubt telling the other people of the court.

The night air was crisp and cool against his face as Jaskier pushed the doors open onto the balcony. Technically, this area was off limits. No guest was allowed here and the servants had gone to great lengths to make sure that no one made it out here. But what were they to do when the Viscount of Lettenhove was the one trying to escape to his parent’s balcony?

Finally, Jaskier felt as if he could breathe. It should have been a relief to have Geralt so willing and helpful, and really he had been completely wonderful all night. Far better than Jaskier would have ever expected. And yet, he was so thrown off and upset by it. It would have been so easy to just lean into this, to accept Geralt’s exemplary behavior and pretend, just for a night, that Geralt regularly called him things like “darling” and “love.” That Geralt kept a hand on him at all times. That Geralt checked up on him when Jaskier left abruptly. As he did now.

“I must ask you to return--” a servant started, but Jaskier cut her off.

“It’s alright, Orla. He’s my husband,” Jaskier said, and even he winced at how bitter his voice sounded. He didn’t turn to see if anyone else noticed, though. Instead, Jaskier leaned against the railing, his forearms resting on the cold stone as he stared out over the grounds.

He heard rustling behind him and a door closing, but it was still a moment longer before Geralt joined him against the stone wall. There was still a space between them and Geralt, bless him, seemed almost hesitant to step closer.

“What’s wrong?” Geralt asked, finally leaning against the stone beside Jaskier.

Jaskier huffed an extremely forced laugh. “Wrong? What could be wrong? You’ve only been perfect all night. Everyone loves you. Even my mother, who could find fault in a saint.”

“And… that’s a problem?” Geralt asked, and Jaskier could almost picture the way his eyebrows must have been knitted in confusion.

Jaskier sighed, then buried his face in his hands. “No, darling, of course not. You’re doing exactly what I asked. You’ve made a wonderful impression and have made everything far easier for me.”

Geralt stood silent beside Jaskier, probably trying to decipher what, exactly, Jaskier was going on about. Jaskier wished he could do more to help, but Jaskier was just as flummoxed. This should have been perfect; a night Jaskier would tease Geralt about for years to come. Jaskier should have been preening under the attention and prideful over how much the other partygoers enjoyed Geralt. Instead, he felt empty and cold and as if he was missing something.

“You don’t seem like you in there,” Jaskier finally settled on. 

The truth was far too big for him to speak just yet, so he settled for a half truth. The man inside wasn’t the Geralt Jaskier knew and loved, and neither the man inside nor the man outside was a Geralt that belonged to Jaskier.

“I thought you didn’t want me to be me. I thought you wanted me to be your husband,” Geralt said, and his voice was just a touch too serious for his teasing to be believable.

Jaskier straightened up and met Geralt’s eye, finally. Geralt looked lost, like a little boy who was just trying so desperately to be good, and coming up short. Or, perhaps Jaskier was projecting, since that was the way he often felt, especially when he was in Lettenhove. Geralt had a hand on the stone wall, and Jaskier covered it with his own.

“I always want you to be you. I’m sorry I made it seem as if I would ever want someone else,” Jaskier mumbled. He took a moment to stare at their hands, before finding Geralt’s eyes again. “This is all just a bit… much.”

Geralt hesitated a moment, then took a step forward. His hand turned beneath Jaskier’s and he took Jaskier’s fingers, his thumb running absently over Jaskier’s knuckles. Jaskier waited, but Geralt didn’t say anything, and Jaskier found he wasn’t surprised. The silence hung between them as they both waited for Jaskier--of course it would be Jaskier--to break it.

“I don’t think I knew what I was asking for when I asked you to do this,” Jaskier whispered, and he took a step closer to Geralt. The tips of their shoes just barely brushed together and if Jaskier wanted to, it would only take a quick sway to bring their lips together. “I don’t think I asked for the right thing.”

Geralt hummed. “What would you ask for now?”

“For you to accompany me. As yourself. Rather than as a puppet or novelty for the court,” Jaskier started. He wanted to say more, opened his mouth again to do so, but the words died in his throat.

Geralt’s eyebrow raised. “I doubt your mother would approve of me as I am for your husband. Didn’t you want to avoid her appeals to court suitable ladies?”

Jaskier looked away. Back over at the gardens. Geralt’s fingers tightened around his, as if Geralt was afraid Jaskier would pull away. This felt different than the hand at Jaskier’s back, but had Jaskier’s heart beating faster nonetheless.  “I shouldn’t have had you pose as my husband at all.”

There was a long silence, and it wasn’t until Geralt tapped Jaskier’s hand with his thumb that Jaskier realized Geralt was waiting for Jaskier to continue. To explain. Jaskier sighed.

“You’ve been amazing in there. I didn’t expect you to… be so wonderfully physically affectionate, or use pet names, or talk me up and be otherwise… casually affectionate. Truly, you are a master at your craft, and if this whole witchering business goes to the wayside, you should consider a future on the stage.” Jaskier huffed and bit the inside of his cheek. He would keep himself together. “It’s easy to believe it’s all real. You play the part so well. There’s not a single person in there that doesn’t believe us as a couple, and sometimes even I forget.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt said. His voice was low, firm. Get to the point, Jaskier heard.

“I don’t want to spend a night pretending. I don’t want to enjoy myself too much, only to wake up to reality come morning.” He pulled his hand back from Geralt’s grasp and swiped it over his face. “I’m sorry, I thought I had a better handle on myself than this. I thought I could separate reality from fiction, but apparently I have fooled myself too thoroughly.”

The embarrassment rose through his body to paint his cheeks a vibrant, hot shade of red, and Jaskier could not bring himself to look at Geralt again as he turned toward the doorway.

“We should go back inside. I’ll get it together, and we can continue on as if--”

“We could start smaller,” Geralt interrupted, taking Jaskier’s hand again and using it as leverage to pull him back. Jaskier allowed himself to be pulled, and faced Geralt again, his eyebrows furrowed in his confusion. “Make reality. Different.”

“Geralt,” Jaskier started. His mouth opened and closed a few times as he tried, very carefully, to find the words he was looking for. Nothing sounded right. “You’re not proposing--”

“I’m proposing we change tomorrow, rather than tonight,” Geralt answered. He took a step closer to Jaskier, his free hand cupping Jaskier’s hip. “Build up to tonight.”

Geralt dropped Jaskier’s hand in favor of trailing his fingertips along Jaskier’s cheekbones, his jawline, his lips. Jaskier found himself breathless, almost dizzy, and he closed his eyes, trying to convince himself that this was real. It seemed far more likely that he had managed to stumble, hit his head on one of the many heavy, solid, and jagged rocks, and was now having a very imaginative, blunt-force-trauma-induced dream.

“Geralt, I’m afraid I might have been struck with delirium. It feels rather like if I asked you to kiss me, you would,” Jaskier whispered. Surely his imagination wasn’t good enough to create the feeling of Geralt’s thumb shifting as Jaskier’s lips moved. Jaskier may have to come to the conclusion that this was real.

“Why don’t you try it, bard?”

Jaskier let out the breath he had been holding, and rested his hands on Geralt’s hips. He opened his eyes again to find Geralt staring at him with probably the softed, most fond smile Jaskier had ever seen on his face. It was that smile, that barely-there tick of the corners of his lips that gave Jaskier his courage. Jaskier smiled back, just as small and soft, and Geralt stopped tracing Jaskier’s lips and held his face instead.

“Please kiss me,” Jaskier breathed.

The words were barely out of Jaskier’s mouth before they were swallowed into Geralt’s. Jaskier’s arms wove themselves around Geralt’s back, pulling him closer, and Geralt’s hand crept up Jaskier’s back as well. Geralt still held his face, cradling Jaskier’s cheek carefully, no matter how they moved together.

The air was just as cool as it had been when Jaskier stepped outside, but now Jaskier found himself warmed by the heat of Geralt’s lips. He put every ounce of longing into the kiss, and was almost surprised to find just as much wanting in Geralt. They had wasted time, so much time, but Jaskier was already quite fond of their methods for making up for that.

Finally, they had to part. Neither strayed far, though. Their foreheads pressed together, their breaths intertwined as Jaskier’s heart settled. Geralt’s thumb stroked Jaskier’s cheek, and Jaskier could hardly hear the din of the banquet hall over his own disjointed, trailing, endlessly giddy thoughts.

“If I ask you again tomorrow, will your answer be the same?” Jaskier asked.

Geralt hummed. “And every day after that,” he answered.

[secretshinigami]

Late Night Show

Title: Late Night Show Author: @complicatedmerary For: @fogspecs Pairings/Characters: Misa/Takada tease, Kiyomi Takada, Misa Amane, Hitoshi Demegawa (cameo), Light Yagami (mentioned only) Rating/Warnings: Teen and Up, alcohol mention, Demegawa being a gross boss, tabloid gossip nonsense, mean girl behavior, mild language, mild violence Prompt: Misa and Takada have romantic tension between them. Author’s notes: Misa and Takada, you say? Don’t mind if I do! As I was drafting ideas for the offered prompts, it occurred to me that the only time Misa and Takada met in canon was when Misa had no memories of being Kira. If we are being honest, that was a missed opportunity. Then, I thought, what if Misa has her memories intact, but Takada is not Kira’s spokeswoman? How will their dynamic change? Hope you enjoy!

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“I’m telling you, Miss Takada, with your great assets and even greater personality, you will have my audience eating at the palm of our hands. My show has been craving a female perspective on scandalous gossip, you have no idea how much hate mail I receive for being unfair to these airheaded celebrities. If we get this right, no one will ever accuse me of having no substance, we are respectable journalists, dammit!”

Kiyomi Takada had barely started her first day of work and she already regretted every second of it. Truth be told, it was not a regular job, it was a weird hybrid of an internship that she had to fight to be eligible for credit and an arduous job that guaranteed humiliating tasks and low pay. The real reward is experience, she kept telling herself over and over as she reluctantly took this opportunity after being rejected by reputable news network stations. She had the nagging suspicion that Hitoshi Demegawa only chose her based on her looks rather than her impeccable academic record, but at this point it was too late to challenge this. No, she had to swallow her pride if she wanted to prove herself to be worthy of broadcasting intellectual journalism in the next few years.

“Hey, hey, what’s with the gloomy face?” Demegawa snapped his fingers close to Takada’s nose, startling her. “Celebrity gossip is supposed to be fun! Well, unless I report the usual actor breakdown, but that’s just show business, no one is truly getting hurt anyway.” He chuckled, holding himself by his belly.

Takada barely flinched.

“Come on, I’m just joking, don’t be so serious. We have something juicy coming up in thirty minutes and I need you to familiarize yourself with the news that has happened this morning.” Demegawa stopped speaking, gave Takada a nefarious grin, then patted her cheek as if she were a kid. “How about smiling for once? You will fit right in when people don’t see you as an ice queen.” He turned to the side and snapped his fingers repeatedly. “Everyone should be getting their makeup done, don’t you dare step out if your face is a mess!”

She took note of scrubbing her cheek raw until there was no trace of his dirty hand.

~~~

Takada looked over her script as her makeup artist fluffed some blush across her cheekbones. She wasn’t the type to focus on such frivolous things, but if she had to play the role of the tabloid host darling, she will gladly do so to keep Demegawa satisfied. Her credit and career depended on it.

She flipped the page with a lack of interest; Hideki Ryuga was out of the country for the third time this month? It wouldn’t surprise her if he ended up caught in a money laundering scheme, he seemed to be just that dumb. Next up, was A-list actress, Suki Aragaki, marrying his longtime beau, movie director, Kenji Ozu, after enduring a nasty love triangle that ended Ozu’s decade-long marriage. Congratulations, I guess, Kiyomi snorted, rolling her eyes at the absurdity.

She continued flipping until a familiar name made her stop on her tracks. Misa Amane. Without realizing it, her knuckles turned white as she gripped the script, and her jaw clenched painfully.

“Are you alright, Miss Takada?” The makeup artist placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Of course,” Takada let out a deep breath as her anger simmered down. “I’m just nervous, that’s all.”

The makeup artist nodded. “I understand. Don’t let Demegawa intimidate you, he is quite sweet once you get to know him.”

That was doubtful, but she was not about to argue, her attention was somewhere else. Misa Amane. The same silly model who appeared on campus and snatched Light Yagami away from her. To make matters worse, Amane randomly texted her out of nowhere months ago to let her and all of Light’s “other girls” know (which came as a disturbing revelation to her) that Light asked her to move in together and to back off. Why did Light love such an insecure, clingy woman? What could they possibly have in common besides good looks? And her classmates dared to call her superficial, how laughable.

As she kept reading the script, the gloom evaporated like a burst bubble. Misa Amane has been caught buying a pregnancy test despite declaring over the weekend at the premiere of her latest movie that she and her private boyfriend were waiting till marriage. Are we expecting wedding bells for the lovely couple, or did they marry in secret already to avoid the ire of her rabid fanboys? Unless there is something more sinister going on and her boyfriend is not the father of that baby. Perhaps that’s why Hideki Ryuga is out of the country, he is running away from his duty as a father! Those two have been fighting the persistent rumors of romance on set and that might settle it once and for all. Whoever the baby’s father is, congratulations to Misa Amane and her bundle of joy. We can’t wait to have more single mothers in the entertainment industry, such an underrepresented group in our society!

Takada tried to stifle her giggles between her fingers, but her amusement couldn’t be contained. For once Demegawa’s brutal commentary came in handy, there was no way Misa Amane could recover from this scandal. If there was anything juicier than an affair, it was a pregnancy resulting from the affair!

Oh, tonight’s show was going to be so much fun.

~~~

“It just does not make any sense, Miss Takada,” Teppei, her co-host, shook his head. “How can this movie be such a critical success when every review I have seen declared it the worst movie of the year even though we are halfway there? Who is bribing the industry to keep promoting it on television when no one wanted this movie to be made in the first place? It is a conspiracy; I am so sure of it.”

Takada pretended to act interested in the topic and simply smiled widely. She barely met Teppei today and she finally had the confirmation that she was dreading: He was a certified spoiled brat who assumed himself to be the greatest thing that has ever happened to comedy. The son of a politician, he got far enough to step into movies and television because his father left him a bottomless pit of money. He wasn’t good looking, so he relied on his short stature and misogynistic jokes to compensate for the lack of attention he never received in the spotlight. It worked perfectly enough to be perceived as harmless and now he got to hang out with late night show comedians and tour around the country. Takada wondered for how long mediocrity was going to be standard. If he were someone else, Demegawa would have no doubt chewed him out, but money and publicity ruled in his greedy heart.

“The real conspiracy is,” Takada pointed at the screen, a photo of Hideki Ryuga and Misa Amane on set, holding hands. “What is up with these two? They keep stating over and over that there is no romance, but I have yet to see her publicly with her supposed boyfriend. What exactly is she hiding?” The next slide showed a paparazzi shot of Misa Amane allegedly going to the pharmacy for a pregnancy test.

The audience gasped loudly, as expected, thanks to the teleprompter.

“Woah,” Teppei spun around dramatically. “Didn’t she say she was waiting till marriage?”

“It makes you wonder why Hideki Ryuga is out of the country for the third time this week,” Takada gasped. “What are the odds that he found out about her pregnancy and is panicking about the possibility of being a father?”

“If that’s not the case, then she married her boyfriend in secret to keep up with her indiscretion and avoid the ire of her fans.” Teppei covered his mouth and giggled like a schoolboy. “Sucks for him because if they were supposed to be celibate, then that’s Ryuga’s baby! Man, things are not going well for Misa Amane!”

“Congratulations to Misa Amane and her bundle of joy,” Takada recited the script with unnecessary enthusiasm. “We can’t wait to have more single mothers in the entertainment industry, such an underrepresented group in our society!”

The phone rang on the set, which meant that a fan of the show had the opportunity to give their perspective on the topic. This was Demegawa’s idea to encourage “respectful dialogue” on live television, but Takada knew better: It was to enforce the trashiness of the show with inflammatory controversy, and there was no doubt one of Misa’s fanboys was calling to defend her “honor and dignity.”

Yeah, you cannot defend something that never existed, Takada thought bitterly.

“Looks like we struck a nerve,” She hummed and picked up the phone, setting it to onset speaker. “Yes, how can we help you?”

“YOU DISGUSTING, UGLY BITCH!” A shrill voice echoed around the studio, creating some feedback on the boom microphones. “I ought to sue every single of you for defamation of character! I would never cheat on my boyfriend, especially not with Hideki Ryuga! You are all sick in the head for lying this bad!”

Takada couldn’t help the grin that was plastered on her face … No one could mistake that voice to someone else. So, Misa Amane was the type of celebrity who watched gossip shows to hear if she was relevant? This was just too hilarious and unsurprising for her.

“Sorry, Miss Amane, we are just reporting the news,” she said coolly. “We are not fond of frivolous lawsuits, so I ask you to respect the press.”

“YOU ARE NOT REPORTING ‘NEWS’, YOU ARE SPREADING GARBAGE!” There was a brief silence on the other line, and then the sound of chugging down a liquid echoed on the speaker. “You are just jealous that I’m in a committed relationship and you are stuck with your misery,” Misa’s words were slurred. “How about spreading some good news? Whatever happened to being kind?”

“With all due respect, Miss Amane,” Teppei had a smug grin on his face. “You are in the entertainment industry; we don’t owe you kindness. If you can’t handle criticism, maybe being a celebrity is not the job for you.”

Takada covered her mouth, hiding the twitch on her lips that she couldn’t contain any longer. Was this truly the end for Misa Amane? No one seemed to be on Misa’s side, and she was humiliating herself on live television. Things were finally looking up for her.

“Oh, shut up, Teppei, no one likes you, you are only relevant because of your daddy,” Misa shot back. “And as for you, Kiyomi Takada, my boyfriend will never be with you, he prefers me, he said so himself, so knock it off.”

The bombshell caused a murmur amongst the audience and Takada stiffened on the spot. No, she was not going to let Misa Amane win this fight, not now, not ever.

“Wow, Miss Amane, are you having a mental breakdown?” She chuckled. “Jealousy is not part of a healthy relationship, it’s not good that you are projecting your insecurities on me. We don’t even know each other.”

“That’s it! I’m going down to Sakura TV, find you, and kick your butt! You’ll be sorry for messing with me—”

“Like that’s ever going to happen.” And with that, she slammed the phone and there was nothing but the dial and laughter from the audience.

She wondered if she ruined her chances of ever being taken seriously, but one glance at Demegawa’s blissful face told her everything she needed to know: This episode was one for the books.  

~~~

It was close to midnight when the show finally ended, and Takada stayed overtime to talk to Demegawa about the possibility of hosting the show by herself. He said he would think about it, but he couldn’t guarantee anything despite the reception. That was good enough for her. For now.

As she approached the parking lot, she heard footsteps to her left, but there were so light that for a second, she thought she imagined it in her head. She was tired and it had been a long and overexciting night, she couldn’t wait to go home and sleep on her bed.

“There you are!”

Takada turned around and she couldn’t believe what she saw: Staring at her with malice was Misa Amane, standing up straight with her legs apart, and clenched fists.

“I told you I was going to find you and kick your butt! Now, don’t you dare move!” Misa sprinted forward with so much velocity on her direction, her gaze still focused.

Takada panicked for a few moments, darting her head back and forth, looking for a way out. Instinctively, she raised her arms across her face to defend it and swung her leg on any direction her adrenaline asked her to do, her eyes closed.

It all happened so fast: As Misa aimed to kick Takada on the shin, she tripped on Takada’s swinging foot, and she landed on the concrete, stomach down.

Takada opened her eyes when she heard the agonizing whines below her and gasped at the sight of Misa laying flatly in the middle of the parking lot. Oh, God, I didn’t hurt her that bad, did I?

“Are you alright?” She felt pathetic; of course, she was not alright, she just tripped her with her foot, what a terrible question!

“Here, let me help you—”

“Don’t touch me!” Misa shrugged her off as she managed to stand on her own. Well, just barely, she couldn’t maintain her balance as she tried to step away towards the street.

Despite hating that woman with a burning intensity, she was not going to let Misa walk by herself with injuries all over her, especially in such a shady area. No, if she drove away and Misa ended up missing (or worse, dead) because she was alone, she could no longer call herself a virtuous person.

“You are not going anywhere. Come on, I need to take you home.” Takada dragged Misa roughly by the arm towards her car.

“Let me go!” Misa tried to resist her, but her balance betrayed her. “I’m not going to tell you where I live, you are going to stalk Light if you know!”

God, would she stop being so freaking loud?

“Either you tell me where you live, or you have no choice but to spend the night in this parking lot,” She pushed Misa inside the car and dropped her legs on the passenger seat. She then held her arms as she put the seatbelt over her body.

“I don’t have time for this, you are a grown woman, act like it—” She caught a whiff of cheap wine on Misa’s breath. “Ugh, so you are drunk. That’s it, I’m going to drive all around the city until you tell me where I should drop you. I’m not stopping until you get over yourself.”

~~~

The drive did go longer than expected; it was one in the morning and Misa refused to speak one word to her. Two could play the game, Takada did not say one word either. The only sound filling out the silence was the pop radio station playing the same song for the third time. At this point, she wondered if she will ever get peace for at least trying to help another woman out.

“I did mean what I said on the phone,” Misa murmured quietly. “Light does not want you, he never did.”

Why was she bringing that up now? Why did it matter after she ignored her this time entire time?

“I don’t care,” Takada rolled her eyes. “You don’t need to do this, you have him, why isn’t that enough for you?”

“It’s easy for you to say,” Misa snorted. “He dumps you and you act like it never happened. If Light were to dump me, I don’t think I would want to continue living.”

Good lord, this woman is insane.

“You want to know what the worst part is?” Tears suddenly rolled down her eyes. “The reason why I don’t want you to drop me to my apartment is because you will not find him there. He has been acting so weird since—” She shook her head. “No, he is a man, this is a man thing. It’s normal for your boyfriend to not spend every night together, right?”

Takada really wanted to say, no, it was not normal, but she didn’t know what she could possibly say that could make this situation better. She didn’t ask for this personal information, this was none of her business. And yet, why did she want to hear more about Light’s inability to keep his own girlfriend happy? What the hell was wrong with him?

“I’m not pregnant, you know,” Misa whispered, and Takada’s glanced at her, confused. “We have tried—Well, I tried my best to let that happen. I’ve been so hopeful that maybe if we have a baby together, we will be bonded for life. That, maybe, just maybe, he would look at me differently. Yes, I did buy that pregnancy test, and yes, the photos are real, but I’m not pregnant. Are you happy now? You got your little revenge by making fun of me, now I’m asking the media to do the same.”

It was hard to swallow, her throat was so dry. She couldn’t believe this, but she felt guilt. Guilt for even entertaining the idea of messing up someone’s life in such a public manner. Guilt for doing that in the first place for the sake of ratings!

Sorry was not going to be enough, she wasn’t even sure what was she apologizing for. Sorry I tripped you with my foot? Sorry I bullied you so badly that you had to get drunk to deal with the pain on live television? Sorry Light Yagami is not a perfect man? She felt nothing, anything that she could possibly say was going to be in vain if she didn’t mean it.

She suddenly stopped her car and parked on the side of the road. She turned off the radio and breathed out slowly, attempting to calm herself. Screw this, she had to do the right for once.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea that you are left drunk in your apartment.”

“What?” Misa’s eyes widened.

“If Light is not there to keep an eye on you, then—”

“What are you trying to say?” Misa was instantly furious. “I can take care of myself, I’m not a child. When Light comes back in the morning, he won’t even notice I was drunk, it’s like it never happened, we are back to being a normal couple. If you are suggesting that I would do something drastic … I’m not stupid! What do you take me for?”

“Please listen to me,” Takada pinched the bridge of her nose and breathed in and out slowly again. “I’m not saying you are stupid; I’m just trying to say that you are not in control of your emotions, and I don’t trust you to be by yourself for now.”

“I am in control of my emotions.”

“You literally cried to me that Light is not spending every night with you.”

Misa kept her mouth shut.

“All I’m saying is that I need to keep an eye you.” She regretted the words once they left her lips. Was it the guilt talking? Was she considering taking care of Misa until she got over her drunkenness? What the hell was going on here?

“I know what to do now,” She restarted the engine and shifted to drive.

“Where are we going?” Misa asked with suspicion.

“I’m taking you to my apartment and give you the chance to rest there.”

“YAY!” Misa hugged her suddenly and kissed her cheek, almost causing Takada to let go of the steering wheel. “We are going to have a girls’ night, we could stay up all night, tell each other stories—”

“Not happening,” She cut her off, but she smiled despite herself.

Misa giggled. “You know, your numbers just switched, it’s like they moved up.”

“What?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing that you should ever worry about.” She said in a sing-song voice.

Takada rolled her eyes. It was going to be a longer night than anticipated.

[talvin-muircastle]

Am I Queer? It’s Controversial.

This is going to be long, and it’s going to cover a lot of ground, so please bear with me.  

Recently, this article came to my attention:

https://www.healthline.com/health/gender-nonconforming

I have spent a fair amount of time questioning my own sexuality/identity, and having it questioned by others.  Now approaching five full decades of life, I feel comfortable saying:

I identify as Male, and Straight.

I am Gender Non-Conforming by the standards of the culture I come from.

But I am not comfortable saying this qualifies me as “Queer” or otherwise under LGBTQIA+.   

That article (which is by no means the Last Word on the subject) identifies several areas where I do not conform to my AMAB status as culturally defined:

I have long hair.  But I also have a thick beard and moustache, and I like that combination.  Still, I grew up in a place where long hair on a guy meant you were A) Queer or B) into Heavy Metal.   Even though my teen years saw me sporting a military-style buzzcut more often than not, I tended to hang out with the Metalheads.  My long hair continues to be a point of contention with my conservative relatives and in-laws.   Some of them think I am a Hippie, which is funny because I am allergic to Cannabis.  Wanna watch me fight for breath and puke?  Blow weed smoke in my face.  

I am a Stay-At-Home Dad and Homemaker.  I have been the breadwinner for this family, but that is not part of my identity.  I am quite content to let my wife handle that part of things, and so is she.  I have been a Dad longer than I have been a father, in fact:  for most of my life I have been mentoring teenagers that find their way to me seeking advice, comfort, acceptance, and guidance.    I spent a lot of time worrying about what career should I follow, and it took me far too long to understand and accept that Dad was what I was after.  A woman seeking motherhood as a career is validated, a man seeking fatherhood in the same context is not conforming.  

When I was younger, I got hit with one hell of a double-standard: while wanting to be a Dad as a goal is not acceptable, I was supposed to go out there and sow my wild oats.  OK, I wasn’t really supposed to get girls pregnant, but I was supposed to try.  Wait, what? Try that again?  OK, if you were a teenaged boy in the 80s and 90s and I am pretty sure before that (not sure after, AIDS changed a lot of thinking all around), you were not supposed to get a girl pregnant, but you were supposed to make an attempt as often as possible, in fact you were supposed to score but fail.  If you are confused, don’t feel bad: I was living steeped in this paradox 24/7/365 and came out of it real confused.

Meanwhile, I was looking for a long-term, meaningful relationship with a woman who could be a partner in my life, and avoiding the one-night stands I was supposed to be after according to the standards of my culture, and so many of the people around me—parents, teachers, peers—decided that I must be Queer.  And that was Not A Good Classification To Find Yourself In in Rural Tennessee of the 80’s and 90’s.   Lacking real support, I entered adulthood like a trainwreck still skidding down the tracks, confused as hell and desperately trying to please people whose opinions mattered to me far more than they should.  I did finally find that relationship, and we celebrate 21 years of marriage this month.  Meanwhile I can’t keep track of who has gotten divorced and remarried from that crowd anymore.   

I am not a fan of American Football.  (I am not a fan of soccer, which is football to the rest of the world, but that’s not going to get you labeled Queer in the USA as yet.)   Even so, I got recruited to be the Football Manager for my high school football team, and then I spent several years studying to be an Athletic Trainer in college as an add-on to my English and Education degree.  The fact that I spent 7 years of my life on the sidelines of football games (and basketball, and baseball) and still do not really understand the rules of those sports should have been a clear sign to me that I was trying to conform and failing badly.  An American Male of my generation is supposed to like these things, he is supposed to scream at the television or scream from the stands when watching a game, he is supposed to have a Favorite Team and Wear Their Stuff.

Yeah, that’s not me.  I don’t like combative sports.  I like things that involve grace, beauty, and art.   Figure skating (either gender, singles, but especially pairs) is fun to watch.  The more artistic of gymnastics events are nice (uneven bars and vault are kinda boring, but I love watching floor exercise.)  Watching someone do tricks on a skateboard is more interesting to me than an MMA bout.  I enjoy the art of it.   I used to watch WWF Wrestling as a kid, but I found I enjoyed the “story” more than the violence.  Martial arts practice that is done like a dance is more interesting than watching two people try to kick each other in the face for real.   

I’m told I am supposed to like these things.  I am told that not liking them makes me less masculine.  

This extends into online gaming as well.  Oh, I like some combat games.  We aren’t going to talk about how many hours I have played the XCOM series.  But…I don’t like PVP or multiplayer. I like the story arc, and accomplishing things.  Minecraft?  I like building, and killing mobs is very secondary to that.  In single-player I usually just go peaceful mode and explore the world, build grand railways and tunnels, create comfortable houses or make a home under a lake with a glass roof under the water.  In World of Warcraft I spent more time exploring the world and getting cool screenshots than worrying about getting Phat Loot and XP.  I would take a whole afternoon just to escort a couple of new players through dangerous territory so they could find their friends.  

I have gotten a lot of grief over that.  I am supposed to go out and kill kill kill stab stab stab get the loot!  

And I am supposed to get more than the other person.  It’s competition.  Men are supposed to compete.  And if you can’t get more than the other guy you go dump buckets of lava on his house and laugh at the noob.  

I hate that.  

By the standards I was raised with, I am gender nonconforming.  I most definitely do not conform to the expectations that were laid upon me from my youth.

Does that make me Queer?   I am not comfortable claiming that.

The standards I was held to can also be considered Toxic Masculinity.  They hold that Queer==Less Of A Man.  “Queer” is not “Less.”  I was raised to think it is, but I have learned, and grown, and I know that it is not.  I also do not accept that I, myself, am Less.  The very premise of me being labeled Queer by those people is wrong on all counts.   I am different. I have always known that.  I believe that “Man” and “Male” can encompass more than violence, bullying, and competition.  I also know full well that many who identify as “Woman” and “Female” embrace those as ideals as well.  

I am no stranger to violence.  My life has often been violent.  I have fought off muggers who were armed with knives, I have stared down the barrel of a gun, I have been beaten because someone else wanted to establish himself as the dominant male in our school just after he moved there.  I am not a pacifist: the only reason I have not killed another human being in self-defense is because I was outnumbered.   I just don’t feel that defines my gender, and I have been told it should.  I fight to survive and to protect others, not to prove that I can.  

Others who look like me are guarding statues of Columbus with their Assault Rifles because they feel their masculinity is threatened.  This is another area where I do not conform to my expected gender roles.   Not only do I not feel my masculinity is threatened by BLM, or Pride, or the existence of Trans folks, I no longer feel my masculinity can be threatened.  I spent so many years under attack from “my” side, and gotten so much support from “their” side, that I now understand that my gender is not about what THEY think.  It is MY identity. I OWN it.  I am who I am regardless of their perception of me. Nothing someone else does can take that from me. 

And if anything about me is Queer, it is that: the understanding that my identity belongs to me and not to those who seek to mislabel me.  

I have been told by some in the Queer community that I am welcome among them, and I am grateful for that.  So, so many of my stories can be prefaced with, “There I was, the only Straight Guy in the room, when:”  I am proud to be an Ally.  

But calling myself Queer?  I’m not comfortable doing that.  I could, and I know some who would accept it.  But I feel it is more important to me to break the toxic definition of Masculinity and show that things like nurturing, caring, creating, dancing, loving, uplifting, and oh yes parenting, these ARE Male Qualities, always have been, and should always be.   No criticism of GNC folks who take the Queer label intended or implied: they are not Less, they own their own identity, they are valid.   They are themselves, and have a right to be. 

I am me.

I am a Man.

I will never be the Man they wanted me to be, and I am PROUD of that. 

Happy Pride Month.  

Don’t let the bastards get you down.

[cornflowershade]

Why Lebanon was a great episode

(yes, even if you’re someone who hates John)

I’ve decided to make this (controversial?) post about why Lebanon is good (please don’t kill me) and moreover why it’s a really important episode for Dean, because I’ve seen a lot of hate towards the episode that I don’t particularly agree with. I’m just gonna make a list to keep things simple:

- Yeah, the pearl brought Dean his father. That’s not very surprising, and honestly it makes sense. Why? Because Mary was alive. Let me explain: if Dean got the pearl a few years earlier, it probably would’ve brought him Mary. Or maybe Bobby. Not John. But with Mary alive, what does Dean want? The same thing he always has. Family. It’s not about John, it’s about him having his whole family in one place together, for once.

- Dean got to have that fantasy. He got that family dinner and honestly? I’m happy for him.

- It was sweet because Mary got to see John again. It was a nice thing to include in her plot line. (A lot of this episode existed for her.) They had a chance to reunite and say their goodbyes.

- Even though Sam thinks he had a worse relationship with John than Dean did, that’s not true. But I think he still has that idea in his head. So, it was nice for him to get an apology from John. And then Sam gets to straight up admit “you did some messed up things.” Of course, he says that’s not what he thinks of when he remembers John. Rather that what’s important to him is having a chance to say goodbye. This makes sense for Sam, who since season 2 has proved to actually be more apologetic about his father than Dean, despite what one might first assume. (He likes having a good memory of him, whereas Dean has used John’s death as an opportunity for freedom. Freedom to admit—at least to himself—what he thought. He’s done a lot of healing.) There’s something nice about Sam having that goodbye, seeing as Sam went through a lot of trauma finding John dead in the hospital after they fought. Sam had a lot of guilt, so even if that wasn’t in the forefront of his mind anymore, it was nice for him to delete one little piece of guilt from his past. Because Sam takes on a lot of guilt that he doesn’t need to.

- To cover another side of things: do I personally hate John? I mean I don’t particularly like him, but I also don’t want to throw him off a cliff. So whatever that means to you. I think a lot of people who despise him say this episode was terrible out of hand, maybe because they didn’t like that John was met with forgiveness. On that note, I want to add to this list that the forgiveness aspect of the episode just goes to reinforce the fact that Sam and Dean are, in their hearts, some of the kindest people on the planet. You don’t forgive because someone deserves it, you forgive because you decide to give them that. Because you’re the bigger person. Was it necessary? Did they need to forgive him? No, of course not. But it’s the path the brothers chose. Why? Well, probably because he’s their dad and despite any water under the bridge or opinions they may have of him... at the end of the day, whether everyone likes that fact or not, they still love and care about him. It’s a complex relationship, to say the least, with a lot of past turmoil. But yeah, they still love him. (And they’re heroes—so yes, of course they chose forgiveness.) Considering the fact that they still loved him, it was also kind of nice for them to reunite for a family dinner, especially when paired with us seeing such a drastic difference in how they now think of and relate to him. Speaking of which...

- DEAN GOT TO MOVE ON AND REALIZE THAT HE AND HIS LIFE ARE WORTHY. And what makes that even more moving? The fact that it had NOTHING TO DO WITH JOHN’S APPROVAL. I get so happily emotional over this. Dean tells John what his life looks like—how they live with Jack and Cas. Later he sees Cas, but Cas doesn’t remember him. He tries to get through to Cas, but it doesn’t work. He’s lost his found family and it HURTS. When John tells Dean “I’m incredibly proud of you,” the look on Dean’s face??? It wasn’t a face that said “this means so much to me.” (It wasn’t even a face they kept the camera on for very long, in order to convey a sense of the line making a huge impact.) It was a face that said “hmm alright.” 

And then John tells Dean that he wishes he’d gotten a family. And what does Dean say? “I have a family.” There’s an air of truth and pride when those words come out. He HAS A FAMILY. A NEW family. A found family. One that he would be heartbroken to lose, or to trade off. 

Through the whole episode there’s such a vibe, but it’s strongest in that scene. When it comes to Dean, we see something spectacular. Sometime during the last few years, he’s become settled in himself. He realizes “wow, I don’t actually care what my dad thinks of me, at all. Because I know I’m doing good. And I love the life that I have. And I’m proud of it myself and that’s enough.” He talks to John not like his son, but as another person, if that makes sense. He doesn’t need validation, and hasn’t needed it for a long time. When John showed up, the way it was treated by the story, and even the way Dean treated it... John was no longer this important person in the hierarchy with either of the brothers. He was a guest in their home. And Dean showed John his life proudly. That was freakin beautiful to see.

[the-hotter-otter]

Strangers || ATEEZ Fanfic

Seonghwa X OC

Mafia/Crime AU

3.7k words

Part 3 || chapter list || previous chapter || next chapter

Hyejin can’t fully commit to Seonghwa’s tempting offer, meanwhile Hongjoong continues to keep secretes.

Warning: blood, minor death, injury, violence, knife use

Angst, fluff, smut, cussing, violence, death

note: ayo shit will start moving soon I promiseee, I seriously don’t know where this story is gonna go but fuck it we’ll see. 

No pov

Hongjoong wasn’t at all surprised when Seonghwa came into his office late at night. He could tell there was a lie in between the lines Seonghwa spoke when he confronted the two last week. Being best friends for years with a bit of blood, death and guns on the side really did bring people together. 

“What’s her name?” Hongjoong asked, he couldn’t stay mad at Seonghwa. Hongjoong knew punishment wasn’t necessary on the eldest who was already racking his brain on it, as a leader he could tell when further discipline was needed and when it was best to leave it to their own self conscience. “If she’s staying here, I should at least know.”

“Lee Hyejin,” Seonghwa said, cursing the weird feeling of familiarity he felt after saying her name. 

“Lee hyejin?” Hongjoong quirked an eyebrow, he’s definitely heard of the name from somewhere, he just couldn’t pinpoint where. “Sounds familiar.”

Seonghwa merely nodded, somewhat glad that Hongjoong didn’t directly question him. “I’ll take responsibility for her.”

Hongjoong liked the sound of that, though it didn't change the fact that he was overlooking one more person. “That means a lot of things hwa, keeping her in line, taking care of her, watching her and protecting her if shit goes down.”

“She isn’t 5.” Seonghwa sighed, “I’m not spoon feeding her.” 

“But she knows.” Hongjoong reminded him, “and she knows she has you wrapped around her finger, people take advantage of that.” 

“I can always shoot her.” Seonghwa said as if it were so simple.

Hongjoong looked him up and down, silently judging the older one. Hongjoong sighed, he wasn’t exactly up for this kind of conversation at 2:30am, “Dramatic much... Aish don't waste the bullets, the suppliers have been shitty to us lately.”

“What I’m saying is you won't have to worry,” Seonghwa said, “you’ll barely notice her.”

Hongjoong looked Seonghwa up and down, “you want her to stay that badly?” 

Seonghwa was taken back by the other’s awkward perspective, “yes? There really isn’t any ulterior motive.”

Hongjoong gave a dawdled nod as he chuckled, “I’m playing with you hwa. Bring her in, I’ll let the others know of our latest addition.”

Seonghwa was about to step out of the office when Hongjoong suddenly spoke up again, “don’t forget about that task I gave you.”

Seonghwa gave a sharp nod, “I'll see to it by the end of the day.”

“Dont fuck up!” Hongjoong noted loud enough for the other to hear, he could imagine the rise he got from it. Deep down he was just joking, after all, Seonghwa never fucks up. 

Hongjoong enjoyed the tease he gave his best friend, more often than not, the former was in tight situations with serious consequences, loosening up was often the last thing he’d find himself doing. 

His smile was short lived when he suddenly felt the vibrations of his phone, and it wasn’t from the bold red one that was sprawled on the desk with the many papers. His face dropped drastically upon realizing that someone was calling the phone hidden deep in his pockets. There was only one person who’d be ringing. 

Mazaki Meiyo.

“Yes?” Hongjoong cautiously spoke up, his eyes darting around the office. He got up and opened the door to check if anyone was giving his conversation a listen. 

“They moved the deal.”

Hongjoong pinched the bridge of his nose, “when?”

“In an hour. You know just as well as me that this isn’t going to end smoothly.”

“Your deals rarely end well.” Hongjoong scoffed bitterly, he pulled the phone away from his ear when the other line went dead. He had to go now if he were to make it in time, he couldn’t afford to be late, not for these kinds of deals. 

Hongjoong pushed off his seat and swiftly buckled his hidden artillery onto his thigh and around his torso, making sure that his best weaponry was in close reach, ready for whatever conflict he was about to get into. Pulling the hood over his masked face, he checked the location Meiyo had sent him. 

The leader eyed the pile of paperwork that was due in a matter of days, he dreaded the inevitable all-nighters we’ll have to pull because of it. 

As Hongjoong left the household in silence, he turned his main phone off completely and stowed it in a hidden compartment. No one was going to find him tonight.

-

Hyejin pov

I stared at the phone screen in dismay, the loan shark has been after my ass for the debt I’ve yet to pay. I've been trying, but even after much struggle I only possess half of what I owe. 

I hated to take that offer from Seonghwa, the money from that deal would have covered my debt and rent from my residence long enough for me to make something out of a scrubby part time job, he just had to ruin me once more.

Then again, what other choice do I have? I leaned back on the wall of the alleyway, I don’t know anyone in this world. I was forgotten years ago, Seonghwa is the last person I’d go with, but he’s also the only one. 

My eyes drifted to the tall buildings around, they blocked the sunlight from ever entering these shabby alleys with large bins and locked deserted gates and doors. I met with the gazes that had been watching me for a while now, in a building a few blocks away yet still in perfect view, two middle aged men who most likely reeked of cigarettes and alcohol admired me from their apartment which could easily come off as an abandoned building left to collect dust and grime.

I squinted my eyes as I felt my vision start to give into fatigue, unrealistic hues of blue and neons started bouncing around. Every now and then, the migraine in my head would dust my eyes with a cloud of grey that blurred my sight ever so slightly. I sighed as I began seeing four instead of two weird men. I tried to refrain from focusing on anything, the lack of good sleep and food had me feeling all sorts of murky effects. 

Their stalkerish behaviour had been creeping me out for the past few days, despite it, I never saw a proper reason to leave the little spot I've claimed for rest. Plus, the odd duo hadn’t made any advances that had worried me thus far. 

The day continued, and the city had been busy as usual. Bikes raced down the side of the roads and paths, scaring the uptight mothers into a slur of curses. Teenage girls carelessly skipped around in their tiny croptops, powdery make up and flaunty shoes with boys their parents have no idea existed. Cars drove with their temperamental owners honking and anything and everything, then there were the workers who were either strolling around after their shifts or sprinting in swerves around people in effort to not be late.

Yet here I was sitting in a slump not so far from the hoards of people, absorbing the natural noises of the city that started to sound more like blaring megaphones instead of white noise. 9pm had crept faster than I expected, truthfully I wasn’t sure whether or not to go through with Seonghwa’s offer. I still had a chance to reconsider, perhaps I could deal with the information for money? After all, a controversial topic surrounding Seonghwa would no doubt bring in a big sum. 

I shook my head from the ludicrous thoughts, there was no guarantee in shady business, ever. It's a far-fetched plan, and the fact that I didn't have a name to my face meant I was that less convincing. 

Though I knew this offer would mean gambling my safety and if I were to stretch the possibilities, my own life. I still wasn’t 100% on board with the whole moving in with Seonghwa and whatever team he’s apart off, neither could I fathom the thought of that sinful man working with people, and that’s without mentioning his sudden change in attitude towards his victims.

It was yet another reason why I’m so reluctant to associate with him, because this isn’t the Seonghwa I was familiar with, he was a stranger, and no one is at ease when they’re affiliated with someone they don't know, especially when that person had guns, knives and all sorts of deadly possessions in their grasp. 

I groaned as I got up with a hazy mind. I looked up and to my suprise the stretchy men were back to watch me, it started to feel uncomfortable now. “Nice knowing you too I guess…” I keep my voice to a murmur. Soon I found myself heading to the meeting spot. 

My heart feels enraged with regret, and it’s impossible to ignore. There was a mere few minutes till the clock struck 9, I can get out of here now or never. 

The Central Train Station was quite grand. With multiple steps just to get to the entrance, neatly trimmed gardens surrounding the place and ancient pillars that held up the building. It was one of the older buildings that turned into a modern utility. 

“Fuck...” I muttered under my breath, “no, fuck this.”

Before I could think I was already speed walking to get the hell out of here. I had pride, I could at least preserve that after losing everything else. 

-

No pov

Blood coated the blade and splattered across the floor and walls of the office, the books on the shelf were drenched and soaking up every bit of red fluid. If only the man had just followed through with the deal, he wouldn’t have ended up dead. 

“What a hassle.” Seonghwa sighed, as he wiped his blade clean on his way out, though it was satisfying seeing the horrors painted on his face as Seonghwa taunted him, revenge for the knife he flung at Hongjoong during their last deal not long ago. 

Seonghwa analysed the slash along his shoulder area, it wasn’t serious at all but it sure did look ugly and soaked his dress shirt in a dark red, in the midst of the tension it felt numb but as his heart rate came down he could slowly feel the stinging pain emitting from the open flesh. He let out a relieved sigh after knowing that none of his own blood had ended up dripping anywhere. 

If it weren’t for the man’s sleeping family in the other room, Seonghwa could have easily finished it off with a bullet but he had to move silently. In turn, it cost him when the man felt fit to fight back with his own blade.

Seonghwa felt Hyejin was partly accountable for his injury. 20 minutes was a bit of a rush for a mission like this, but he had no choice if he was going to make it to the station in time. There was a chance that Hyejin wouldn’t even show up, and that chance made seonghwa unsteady and tense. 

As he pulled up to a red light he felt a distant memory unfold, one that brought a sense of discomfort.

Laughter bubbled up in the front of the car, toothy smiles that twinkled despite the gloomy rain outside. The lull of the music had been turned down for a while now as the soft chatter continued. 

“Hyejin, I told you I don’t need anything for my birthday.” Seonghwa insisted once more with a light chuckle, his one hand on the wheel while the other tried to hold her hand back. He watched in helplessness as she clipped the dangling toothless charm around the rear mirror of the car, her little laugh escaping her lips as it dangled between them.

“It’s cute! I’m telling you, you look just like him.” Hyejin insisted, “and that’s not even the best part.”

Seonghwa couldn't help but smile when the toothless unclipped in half to reveal a small photo framed inside, the details were minuscule but clearly contained the two of them on one of their more memorable dates. 

“Ya, this looks expensive, how much did you spend on me.” Seonghwa diverted the conversation as he observed the matte black of the green eyed dragon. 

“It wasn’t much, don't worry hwa.” Hyejin patted his hand, “I’ve got something else, it's more personal since I made it myself.” 

“So you have something else now?” Seonghwa sighed, though his stupid grin betrayed the annoyed look he tried to show.

The red light cascaded from red to orange to green and before hyejin could whip out the other half of her gift seonghwa sped off, “fine! I’ll accept your gifts, love.”

Seonghwa sneered at the Toothless charm he had yet to take off, if anything it became part of his car’s identity, making it slightly easier to navigate the garage of small black cars, specially on the days when all the vehicles would be together. 

Seonghwa had pulled to a slow stop in front of the station, hiding the charm was his first and foremost priority, Hyejin would most definitely recognize it. 

As he was about to yank the chain off, the corner of his eyes caught a sudden shadow appearing at the window.

Completely forgetting about the charm, Seonghwa halted in his seat, his hand already clasped around the gun latched onto him. It wasn’t until a hesitant Hyejin peered through the window did he relax his grip. On the other hand, Hyejin was feeling anything but relaxed, especially after seeing the bloodbath of a man in the driver's seat.

“So you’ll take my offer?” Seonghwa asked as if it wasn't already obvious enough, Hyejin scoffed. Her response was seen through the way she snuggled down into the passenger seat in a strained sigh of relief after being situated on the hard concrete for days on days.

Throughout the ride Hyejin had kept a careful observation of the roads they had been speeding across, if worse came to worse, she could make a run for it. 

Hyejin silently and subtly glanced around, the car itself hadn’t changed at all, not even the peppermint scent it gave off from the gum Seonghwa had been loyal to for most of his life, though it was currently heavily overpowered by the stench of blood. Hyejin didn’t want to know how and what got him that gruesome injury.

However, the most prominent and unusual feature that had still existed in the car was the all too familiar charm that dangled and swung around underneath the rearview mirror. The dragon's bright green eyes and toothy smile didn't go unnoticed, especially since Hyejin was the one who got it for him years ago. 

Hyejin had the decency to stay silent about it, the stiffness of the air was already far too overbearing, there was no need to intensify it’s sour atmosphere.

“It’s not just me who lives here.” Seonghwa brings up, 

“I figured.” Hyejin sighed, she had heard the many rumours over the years of how a certain group had been overturning the criminal world with unrivaled skill and accomplishments, they became big in the industry. This group of young, skilled men made a name for themselves and it became one feared by many, ATEEZ. 

Though it wasn’t just their skill that had made them the talk of many circles, it was the people within the group, the majority of which already had a reputation high on their shoulders. Hyejin had heard of the promising sniper who had joined their ranks, the insanely witty dealer who knew how to smooth talk his way to riches, the stealthy man who snuck into and claimed dangerous possessions without a single sound. 

Then there was the hitman who possessed the skill of 100 men, he was a young and promising lone wolf who had been rumoured to have joined ATEEZ.

Hyejin didn’t want to believe it was Seonghwa, in fact she didn't want to hear about anything related to Seonghwa, but it wasn’t possible when she was involved with loan sharks and illegal exchanges for the money she was in dire need for. Of course, because of her interactions with others, Hyejin was aware of Seonghwa’s growing skill and relevant changes, it disgusted her to say the least, how much better he had gotten at taking lives.

However the failed deal from last week confirmed her denial to be wrong, Seonghwa was well and truly closely associated with a group, and that group was no doubt ATEEZ.

“Dont try anything stupid.” Seonghwa warned, Hyejin rolled her eyes slightly, “I’m serious, I see the way you're memorizing these roads.”

Hyejin froze momentarily, she eyed Seonghwa who had removed his eyes from the road after stopping at a red light. Hyejin had forgotten how sharp he actually was, the intellectual from highschool still existed within him.

Hyejin got the chance to really see how much Seonghwa had changed, even underneath all of that stained blood and light smears of dirt, she could easily tell that his facial features had sharpened immensely, he wasn’t the same soft faced charmer that made highschool hearts throbs on a daily. If anything, Seonghwa now resembled a high class heartbreaker with a body count worthy enough for a world record. 

Of course some things don't ever change, like his lush lip and stunning eyes that stared back at her. Before the awkwardness could settle, Hyejin looked away, subconsciously glancing at the toothless charm. Seonghwa noticed the glare she gave it, his hands went to take it off but was ultimately stopped by the swat Hyejin gave.

“What’s the point of taking it off now? You had years to do that.” Hyejin raised an eyebrow. 

Seonghwa did not respond and merely sighed as he began moving on the road once again. Hyejin was taken back when they suddenly verged off into a bush area, what was a simple scenery of grass turned into a splatter of greenery. Trees towered high, vines and dense bushes had taken over, it was an untouched forest and they were driving right through it.

Hyejins eyes squinted in growing concern, she wanted to believe they were just passing through to get to another town, but her panic only continued to rise as they got deeper into the maze of nature. Her eyes glare at Seonghwa who seemed to have already expected her to build up doubts.

“Jump out and you’ll be as good as dead.” Seonghwa warned, as he quickly glanced at her stray hand reluctantly reaching for the handle.

“Where are we going Seonghwa….” Hyejin glowered at the driver who was rather unfazed. Even when the subtle sound of a knife being drawn was heard, Seonghwa didn't look away from the road.

The driver pushed his head back against the seat as soon as he caught sight of the fast approaching knife. With the blade a finger's length away, Seonghwa sighed, “I’m not gonna hurt. We’re going to the house, so put the knife down and have a little faith.” 

“Who the hell lives in a goddam forest?!” Hyejin hissed in a raised voice, her eyes teared up from staring so intensely into his side profile. 

“Put the knife down or we’ll both die.” Seonghwa lowered his voice, and Hyejin did not comply. The male halted the car to connect his eyes to hers, in one swift and unnoticeable movement, he grasped her wrist tightly, causing the knife to be let loose and drop to the pit of the car. Hyejin suddenly let a sharp exhale out as Seonghwa pinned her hand down in between them. She cursed her hazy headaches for causing the drastic disadvantage against Seonghwa.

“Stop panicking, we’re almost there.” Seonghwa said as he began driving once again, Hyejin didn’t attempt to squirm out of his hold.

“Your a fucking joke,” Hyejin hissed, “I’ll never put faith in you, not after all the shit you’ve done to me.” 

Soenghwa pinched his lips together at the indirect upbringing of her family’s murder. He wasn’t about to smooth that mess out now, it’ll require a calmer Hyejin and a better situation to explain. 

Hyejin tried to compose herself, but she knew the only way to soothe her panic was to see proof of what Seonghwa was saying.

As they pulled into the driveway of Horizon, Hyejin's tense shoulders melted into the seat. Seonghwa scoffed as he got out of the car first. The jerking of his head signalled for her to get out, hyejin sneered at the man, “give me a damn second will you?”

Seonghwa rolled his eyes before heading inside momentarily, most likely to check if anyone was still up in the early stages of the night. Hyejin took the time alone to get a good grasp at what she had just gotten herself into.

A house, full of dangerous men, in the middle of a forest and a single long ass road back to civilization. 

This wasn’t ideal at all, and Hyejin started to regret this more than ever.

As she took in short breaths her eyes trailed back to the rear mirror charm. All of a sudden, curiosity had her fiddling with the Toothless till it unlatched. She furrowed her eyebrows at the sight of the blank frame. It wasn’t that she was disappointed, it was merely confusion.

“But you keep the charm…” Hyejin glared at the Toothless that was once a gift of love. In the back of her mind she wondered if her other gift was still intact.

Hyejin could worry about that later. Right now, she needed to stay sane and alive, she knew well enough that she would never be guaranteed a way out of death's grasps. Relish in the house and slowly pay off her existing debt? Yes. Get comfortable and trust that your back will be safe in a distant place full of criminals? Hell no.

[onemistresstorulethemall]

Reading Session

Originally posted on ao3.

The book mentioned does exist, but it's really explicit, so beware.

To: @reahaelll Your wish is my command 💕

Nsfw, F!Mc

You grabbed your book and headed to Satan's room. You agreed to a reading session as he confessed he would like to know more about human world authors and well, more about your taste in literature. Because the purpose is to learn new information, he specifically asked of you not to bring any classics, because chances are he already knows their work. You complied and brought something more unheard of, more controversial. You picked Juliette by Marquis de Sade. Hopefully the book was dark enough for the Avatar of Wrath.

With the book in hand you knocked on his door. After a few moments it opened and you were greeted with a familiar smile.

"Ah, there you are! Glad you could make it in time.", the blond demon invited you into his layer.

You realized he had made tea for the both of you. If you didn't know better you wouldn't be able to tell he was, in fact, the embodiment of Wrath.

You sat yourself on the bed followed by Satan. His legs were spread and you sat between them, your back pressed against his chest, while his chin rested on the top of your head.

"What are we reading today, y/n?", he cheerfully asked.

"I picked Juliette for today!", you showed him the cover of the book.

Once he saw the cover and read the author, he giggled a bit. But before you got the chance to ask why, he added:

"Well, we shouldn't waste time. Let's get to reading!"

You obeyed and opened the book. Your reading sessions consisted in one of you reading aloud from a book. It was usually you because Satan liked to hear your voice. So far you have discovered his favourite demon authors and you brought some books from the human world of which he had never heard before.

Within the first pages of the book you already found yourself reading sex scenes. You had an idea what this book was about, but you didn't necessarily know it was going to be all sex and sin. The sex scenes happened between so called nuns which made everything even more sinful. You brushed it off, in your head, thinking it was the right book to read to a demon.

If you were on your own, it wouldn't have affected you so badly, but being into the demon's arms, feeling his chest move as he breathe while having to read aloud lesbian sex scenes between "women of God" made you feel hot and bothered.

You took a small break to drink a bit of the tea Satan prepared for you. Your throat was getting dry. Also, you needed to stop for a second and get your act together.

"I didn't know you are into this, y/n", his voice was lower than usual and his tone more seductive, "You should've told me sooner, we could've had a lot of fun.", he pulled you into a tight embrace.

"I-it's just a book...", you stuttered sounding unconvincing.

"Do you know what the Marquis de Sade is famous for?", he genuinely asked.

You shook your head, unaware.

"The term 'sadism' comes from his name.", he giggled but it sounded quite dark, "Great choice there, y/n, reading a book from the father of sadism to the Avatar of Wrath. What are you hoping to achieve?"

"Look, Satan, I d-didn't mean t-to..."

He grabbed your throat gently, turned your head to the side and upwards, so you faced him. His eyes were gleaming, but it sent shivers downs your spine. His sweet smile meant nothing but the fact that he was holding in the rage that could turn the world upside down.

"You want to tell me that you brought in a book without even knowing anything about it? How are you supposed to learn if you don't inform yourself?"

"I-I'm sorry..."

"No need to apologise", he let go of your throat and flashed you a radiant smile, "Let's just get back to reading!"

You sigh in relief and go back to reading the obscenities illustrated in the book. Soon enough you felt a pair of warm hands caressing your body. You stopped reading and gasped in surprise. The demon lifted your top and exposed your lacy f/c bra.

"Keep going, y/n.", he whispered into your ear and he rubbed circles around the visible parts of your chest.

You obeyed, not wanting to make the demon angry. Well, angrier than usual. Stuttering and gasping from time to time, you continued to read. Your core started to tingle and you felt your panties getting soaked under your skirt.

"My, my, what am I going to do with you? I asked you here so we could both delve into a deeper understanding of the world, but instead you leave my thirst for knowledge unsatisfied... It pains me to say this, but y/n, you have to be punished.", his voice echoed into your mind long after he finished saying those words.

You zoned out for a moment and found yourself bent over Satan's knees with your skirt lifted and your butt out in the open. He started touching you gently, caressing you, kissing the small of your back and when you relaxed and got comfortable enough...he spanked you. A moment of break. No touch at all. And than another spank. He trailed his fingers down your spine, gently and then he spanked you again.

Although he only did it three times, taking into account his -although controlled- inhuman strength, it was enough to make your bottom red. You felt his hand move and you flinched out of instinct, but his hand made no contact with your skin. Instead, you heard laughter.

"You're just so easy to play with, y/n. It's almost impossible to resist..."

"It's not like that..."

He stopped for a moment. The silence was uncomfortable and you laid there, on his knees, awaiting his next move.

"You're right. How rude of me. You came here to read and reading is what you shall do."

With a swift motion he took off your underwear and helped you up.

"What do you think you're doing!?", you asked shocked.

"You ask too many questions, princess~"

The sound of his voice calling you princess made you melt and go on with whatever Satan had in plan for you. It was completely and utterly irresistible.

He tapped on the bed signing you to sit down. When you did, he handed you the book and ordered you to read. When you started doing so, the blond demon spread your legs and began tasting your dripping wet core.

"I can't fucking r-read like t-this, Satan...", you whined.

Like he couldn't even hear you, he kept going, giving you agonizingly slow and long licks, followed by him sucking on your sensitive spot. However, he made sure to get his point across by digging his fingernails into your thighs ever so slightly. The pain felt so good it made you moan in the middle of reading a sentence. That was the moment when he finally stopped.

"I truly refuse to believe that the line went like that", he smirked, "You're more pathetic than I thought. Can't read a book to save your life... Oh well, I guess I can still put that mouth to good use."

He climbed on top of you, took the book from your hands and placed it gently next to the bed. After that, his whole focus was on you, kissing you passionately, tangling his fingers through your hair. At some point he broke off the kiss, unzipped his pants and came closer to you. His member was centimeters away from your mouth.

"Open your mouth.", he ordered and you executed.

In an instant his lengthy thick cock was shoved into your mouth. Slowly, at the beginning, but his pace became faster and rougher and soon enough he was grabbing a fistful of your hair as he was skullfucking you into oblivion. You had tears falling down your cheeks and saliva was dripping down your chin onto your neck. Eventually, he stopped and pulled away, letting you finally catch your breath.

"You're a good toy, y/n, I'll give you that.", he said in an almost mocking tone.

He backed away and stood on the bed on his knees before grabbing your hips and pulling you closer. He lifted you up until your hole was on the same level as his member. He eased into you, holding your thighs so you don't fall.

As he moved faster, his nails dug into your skin, making you scream. You wished to keep quiet, but you couldn't contain yourself. It was all too much. Craving release, you reached out and started rubbing your swollen nub and Satan continued to talk dirty to you.

"Such a desperate needy little slut... I asked you here to read, but now it's clear that you were thirsting for something else..."

He continued to mock you as his nails were still into your skin and his cock was continuously hitting deep and hard into you. The stimulation from the penetration and your own attempt at finding release got you into a critical point.

"Satan, I'm gonna..."

"Beg, princess~"

Your eyes widened, but you swallowed your pride and added:

"I'm begging you, ah fuck, please... Ugh, please, Satan, let me cum!"

He giggled, but told you that you're allowed and quite frankly, that's all you needed to hear. The moment you heard his words of approval, your hand moved faster, your eyes rolled into the back of your head, your moans got louder and your legs started shaking. Even for a demon, it was a bit of a struggle to keep your legs in place.

Soon after, Satan pulled out of you, letting you sink into the mattress as he rubbed his cock above your tummy. In a few moments his semen coated your abdomen. Following his own climax, the demon crashed next to you on the bed and kissed your forehead.

"Bring this book for our next reading session as well, won't you?", he smirked.

[lia-jones]

Growing Together - Chapter Ten - How Far We've Come

Victor watched her from afar as she fumbled with the zipper of her dress. He found her adorable, lightly scoffing at herself, her small hands trying to position to a good angle to get the job done, while she carefully watched herself in the mirror.

He mischievously stood in the distance, concealing himself from her, letting her fend for herself a little longer while he observed. This was his guilty pleasure, a small moment that was only his, when she was alone, oblivious to his presence, lost in a secret dialogue with herself. He drank every one of her expressions, how she silently scolded herself when she failed to do what she intended, how she would secretly pat herself in the back when she finally achieved it.

Eventually, feeling he had had his daily fix, he walked up to her and placed his hands on top of hers, still trying to pull the zipper.

“Need help?” He couldn’t help the slight amusement in his voice.

“Ugh. Yes.” She scoffed, turning her back to him so he could help her. “These dresses are so needlessly complicated. I’m always afraid I’ll pull too hard and rip the fabric.”

“That’s why husbands were invented.” He joked. “To help their clumsy wives zip their dresses.”

“Is that so?” She played along. “I thought it was to change tires.”

“No, that’s why road assistance was invented.” He quipped.

“Right, I’ve never seen you change a tire ever.” She turned and placed her hands on his chest, looking pensive. “Hm. I got myself a faulty husband.” She teased.

“And I got myself a wife that can’t reach the top shelf without help.” He smirked. “Life isn’t perfect.”

“How dare you?” She smacked his chest, making him chuckle. “That’s it, you’re sleeping on the couch tonight.” She went to look for her purse, pretending to be offended.

“Tonight is a big night.” He changed the subject. “Feeling nervous?”

“I think, at this point, feeling nervous is pretty much my normal state.” She laughed at her own exaggeration. “Ok, honestly, how do I look?”

The deep green satin dress looked stunning on her. The lace on the corset hugged her breasts in a perfect and elegant way, and the backless design showed her soft skin, the one he loved to kiss in their most intimate moments. He softly ran his fingers on her back, anticipating the events that would follow the gala.

“Honestly?” He pulled her closer, whispering wet in her ear. “Breathtaking.”

Inside the limousine, on their way to the ceremony, he heard her laugh, looking at her phone.

“Just look at this.” Andrea showed him the screen. He immediately identified Guy, Xavier and Mr. Mills in Guy’s restaurant, toasting with red wine, a caption below the picture that said: Á belle Andrea! Felicitations!

“That was heartwarming.” He quipped. “Remind me to send them something to thank them for the support.”

The beautifully decorated ballroom was brimming with warmth and life, and Victor could hear in every corner people engage in interesting conversations about religion, economy or politics. The greatest minds of Loveland were gathered into that very same place, and anyone that was remotely interested in drinking a little bit of knowledge was bound to have a very bountiful night.

Victor and Andrea were received with honor and enthusiasm by the GESA president and his assistant, Andrea being treated almost like royalty. True to herself, his wife was impervious to all the flattery, as she still couldn’t place herself among the great. Victor knew that was her greatest weapon: because she never felt like she was finally arriving, she would never stop walking. And because of that, no one knew how far she would walk.

As they sat at their table and Andrea, the eternal social butterfly, chatted idly with some guests, Victor let his mind wander to years before. Two years before, to be exact, when he didn’t know she would be his, and she didn’t know she would be brilliant. But on that specific day, he saw something on her that told him she would go far. And how.

It was a Saturday morning, and he was visiting Loveland’s Public Library. The Mayor had invited him under the pretense of showing his last monetary donation had been used, but Victor was no fool. He was perfectly aware that the politician was after another donation. Still, he let himself be led by the man through the many floors of the building, pretending to be unaware of his true intentions. It wasn’t like he had better plans anyway, and he knew how important his donations were, especially to students that couldn’t afford the books that their classes demanded.

“This should interest you since it’s your field.” The Mayor announced as they arrived at the Economic Sciences floor. “We are proud to say that, thanks to your generosity, we have an extensive collection of books and manuals. As you can see by how busy this place is, many students come here to study and research during the weekends.”

Victor took a look around at the place, and just like the Mayor said, all the tables were occupied with laptops and books, the people sitting at them engaged in stimulating conversations. Most of these people weren’t born with a silver spoon on their mouths like he had, and thanks to something that required little effort from him, they could study and work for a better life. Victor couldn’t think of a better use for his money. Enjoying a sudden feeling of accomplishment, Victor was about to leave to visit the next floor, when something caught his eye. At the end of the room, by the corner, was that Portuguese girl that worked for him, the one he had hired just a couple of months ago, Andrea.

His heart gave the alarm, pounding heavily, giving the rest of his body all sorts of instructions. He could feel something inside him flutter, his breath becoming faster, his palms starting to sweat. He had no idea why that woman caused such a reaction in him, the only time he spoke to her was during her interview, and he sure wasn’t going to let himself get all flustered for someone he barely knew. So he took a discreet deep breath, trying to regain control, telling his own body to quit the nonsense.

Despite it all, there was no harm in staying for a little longer and observing her. He was naturally interested in studying people’s behavior, especially the people that worked for him. It was not like he was staying behind to look at her, per se, he just wanted to know what she really was like. He could even say it was a precautionary measure, no more than that. With that thought firmly in mind, because there was obviously no other reason to do what he was about to do, he turned to the Mayor.

“If you don’t mind, I would like to take the time to explore this place a little bit further. Alone. I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

Before the Mayor could retort, Victor turned his back on him. Taking a random book from one of the shelves, he sat on a corner where he could see her but was sure she couldn’t see him. It would be enjoyable to just sit and read for a while, enjoy the ambiance, he told himself. No, this had nothing to do with her at all.

However, Victor realized that he had no idea if the book he was holding was actually interesting. He was yet to read a word of it. Instead, his eyes kept stubbornly drifting back to her, curious to see what she was doing.

Her table was full of books, her open laptop, and a notebook ridiculously filled with colorful sticky notes. She looked different than usual, wearing casual jeans and a navy blue sweater, her curly hair in a messy bun that a pencil kept in place. She was laser-focused on her work, apparently taking quotes from one of the books and typing them on her laptop, making the occasional annotation on her notebook. The several empty cups of coffee at her table indicated she had been working since quite early, probably the whole morning.

Victor realized that, much to his surprise, a feeling of pride was growing inside him, and he simply put it aside, like he did with most of his feelings. He had nothing to be proud about, she was merely an employee, no one of relevance in his life. Besides, for all he knew, she was working hard but failing miserably, making all sorts of unforgivable mistakes.

Still, he had to admit, her effort was remarkable. Most people slept in on Saturday mornings or spent their weekend resting or entertaining themselves with ludic activities, and yet she was there, buried in books for who knew how long. Furthermore, Victor knew the previous day had been hard for her, as Ted had told him that they left the company close to midnight, due to a problem one of his clients had. Regardless, she was there. It was ridiculous for Victor to feel proud of her, but completely understandable if he experienced at least a shred of surprise.

She stopped her work, reading the covers of the books she had on her table, and frowning. She suddenly got up from her table and walked to the librarian’s desk. Without a second thought, Victor followed her.

“Excuse me.” He heard her call the librarian. “Do you by any chance have “The Theory of Development”, by Aidan Thorpe?”

Victor knew that book. It was a study published in the ’90s that had caused immense controversy, so further editions had been canceled, remaining only the first printed copies. Victor had purchased it for his personal collection and found it brilliant. It was interesting that Andrea was also using it.

The librarian struck a few keys on her computer and shook her head, Andrea’s face falling, disheartened. Thanking the woman, she turned to leave, absorbed in her thoughts. In fact, so absorbed that she wasn’t minding where she was going and bumping-

On him.

“Oh God, it’s you!” She jumped back, looking slightly frightened. “I mean, good morning, Sir. And I’m sorry.”

It was obvious to Victor that she became deeply uncomfortable with the sight of him. That quickly put him in a bad mood.

“Watch where you’re going.” Victor scolded her, although he didn’t mean to. “Looking for Thorpe’s work? It’s incredibly hard to find.”

“I know.” She sighed. “There was a copy at Calouste Gulbenkian, back at home, I’ll try to see if I can get any copies of it.” She tucked a curl behind her ear, not looking him in the eye.

“Interesting fashion choice.” He mocked, pointing to the pencil in her hair. “Is that how young people use stationery these days?”

“I forgot my hair tie.” She seemed unamused. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to work. Enjoy your weekend.”

Victor had no choice but to watch her and she hurriedly walked to her table, gathering all her things and leaving in a rush. She obviously couldn’t stand him. But then again, he knew he wasn’t all that loveable, being a business mogul comes with a price, and for the most part, he was willing to pay it. Yet, he couldn’t shake the sadness to see her leave like that.

Back at his apartment, Victor found himself staring at his bookshelf. Something was brewing inside him, he could feel it, but he was too much of a coward to look at it. He had been hurt before. He needed to tread lightly.

But she needed this. And it was so easy to give it to her. Was he really the kind of person that would disregard someone’s need for the sake of self-preservation? With a decided scoff, he took the book off his shelf and placed it on his coffee table. On the inside of the cover, he wrote a few words, closing it immediately.

He took his phone and dialed the number. She could never know.

“I will give you the donation you need.” He spoke, eyes focused on the book. “However, I have a special request.”

“Is everything ok?” He heard her ask. “You’re awfully quiet.”

“What? Are you done listening to Frank’s dissertations about his trips to Namibia?”

“I find them interesting actually.” She came close to him, whispering in his ear. “But the man does talk a lot .”

They both chuckled privately, as they watched from the corner of their eyes the said guest go on another tirade, gesticulating furiously. He lovingly took his wife’s wrist, the one where she wore her charm bracelet.

“You’re wearing it today.” He twirled the V charm between his fingers, proud to have her show that part of him.

“I wear it every day.” She gave him a confused frown.

“I assumed you wouldn’t today, fearing it wouldn’t go with the dress.”

“It’s part of me.” She touched the bracelet on her wrist like it was her favorite thing in the world. “I could never take it.”

He took his wife’s hand again, kissing the back, the softness of her skin and her scent making his heart swell. He loved how she proudly wore his gift, the testimony of their life together like it was her lucky charm, her source of strength.

She was very fond of symbols and superstitions, and although Victor was more of a logical man, even he had to admit the power objects seemed to have in summoning the best in someone, or their worst.

He could still remember that Sunday afternoon, after taking her out to lunch. He was at her place, baking cookies, while she worked on her study.

“It smells delicious.” She commented from the table, as he took the cookies from the tray to cool.

“It will only take another ten minutes. Are you ready for a break? I’ll boil some water for tea.”

“Yes, please.” She stretched her body, stiff from sitting so long. “I’ll clear the table.”

As the water boiled and the cookies cooled, he helped her clear the table of all books and sticky notes she had laying around, spotting the book he had donated to the library. He held it in his hand with a smile.

“That one belongs to the library.” She explained. “I should return it soon, but the librarian says I can keep it as long as I want, and to be honest, it’s breaking my heart to have to return it. I may buy it from them.”

“Why is it so special?” Victor smiled, hoping his expression wouldn’t give away his secret.

“The previous owner wrote this on the cover, see?” She opened the book, showing him the inside of the cover. “Probably for motivation. And you know what? Every time I feel overwhelmed, I look at that inscription, and I feel stronger. It does work.”

Victor couldn’t have guessed the impact his words on a cover of an old book could have on her life, but he was glad to be a positive influence in her work, even if disguised. The following week, while on a business trip, he texted her.

You no longer need to return the book. It’s yours.

“Why do I feel so nervous? I already know I won.” Andrea commented as they started announcing the awards.

“Is it because of the speech?” He held her hand. “If you forget it, just speak from the heart.”

“And now, ladies and gentleman,” a voice announced, “to present the award for Most Promising Mind in Economics… Professor Chauncey Williamson.”

Andrea froze on her seat. It was the teacher that gave her an incredibly hard time when she was defending her doctorate thesis. The professor climbed the stairs to the stage, taking the microphone.

“Ladies and gentleman, good evening.” He started. “Most of you don’t know this, but Mrs. Lee and I share a piece of history together, when she was still Miss Jones. In fact, I was one of the teachers invited to evaluate her thesis. I must admit that, while back in the day I considered Miss Jones too good to be true , Mrs. Lee has not failed to disappoint. Her ongoing study shows a lot of promise and raises many important questions, which is why it is my greatest honor to give the winner for Most Promising Mind in Economics, Dr. Andrea Lee!”

Andrea turned to her husband, pecking him on the lips, before getting up to deliver her speech.

“Go get them.” Victor whispered, before he saw his wife walk towards the stage.

“I have to admit, Dr. Williamson, I wasn’t such a fan of you back then, but I kind of like you now.” She joked, and everyone in the audience laughed. “First of all, I would like to thank GESA for this honor and its juri, and all of the present here for sharing this moment with me. I am deeply honored. There is a saying, no man is an island. And this is particularly true for this award, because, as you may imagine, I didn’t win it on my own. I’d like to thank my husband, who has been with me since day one, who believed in me even when I didn’t believe in myself, and made sure I was supported in every step of the way. I love you handsome, and I’m so grateful for having you in my life.”

Victor found himself close to tears, the pride and emotion being too much to bear with a straight face. He mouthed I love you too to his wife, although he knew words wouldn’t be able to convey the warmth he felt in his heart.

“I’d also like to thank my family and friends, for putting up with my absence and moods when I was too busy, you guys are the best, and I wouldn’t trade you for the world. I also want to thank my team, who worked relentlessly and believed in my project, taking hours and hours of their personal time so we could make the deadline we had defined. And lastly, I want to thank who I like to call my silent supporter.” Andrea’s voice faltered slightly with the emotion. “You see, when I was just starting to write my thesis for my doctorate, and I couldn’t afford expensive books for reference, I had to use the Loveland’s Public Library. There was a book that I needed, The Theory of Development, by Aidan Thorpe, and that the library was kind enough to let me take home temporarily for consultation. Inside the cover of that book, there was a quote that said The best view comes after the hardest climb. I have to say, that quote changed my life. Every time I felt disheartened, or tired, or felt like giving it up completely, I would go to that book and read that quote, and I found myself strong again. I don’t know who you are, and maybe you won’t listen to my speech, but I want to say to the world that your words gave me strength, and you are also a reason why I’m here. Thank you.”

Victor smiled as he applauded her speech, his heart feeling so big that it could barely fit in his chest. He would never tell her that the book was actually from him, and he was the one who wrote those words, although she could easily figure it out by his handwriting. He would keep it secret like his own personal treasure, the knowledge that he had been her supporter since even before she knew, that he loved her even before she loved him. This was for him and him alone. His guilty pleasure.

That day was a memorable day in their lives, and Victor couldn’t help to trace back all the events that led to it. How she started as a not so shy intern at Loveland, but so unaware of her potential. How even when faced with major difficulties, her past being all over the media, her career being on the line, she never gave up. How she bravely stood up to her abuser, and his father, and anyone who was unjust or had hurt someone significant in her life. If he had to describe his wife with a handful of adjectives, two of them would certainly be brave and relentless.

Later that night, he sat in his living room, nursing a glass of brandy and watching the city skyline, like he did many times when he was too overwhelmed by his own thoughts. Feelings like pride and love filled his heart, but there was one he could not shake off: sorrow. He had never seen his wife give up on anything, except for the thing she wanted the most. She had come so far, improved her life in so many ways, healed from the past, but there was one thing that still stung her heart: the fact that she would never become a biological mother.

As his loving husband, Victor decided that it was his duty not to let her give up on her dream, or better, their dream. He had seen her barely recover from their last try, and his heart feared that mentioning the subject again would reopen old wounds, but he couldn’t let her fold like that. There were still options. They still stood a chance.

“The bed is cold without you.” He heard her complain from the door.

“Come here.” He extended his arms to her. “I’ll warm you up.”

She sat on his lap, running her fingers through his hair.

“You’re drinking alone in the dark.” She looked at him with worried eyes. “Is something upsetting you?”

“Just lost in thought, that’s all.” He leaned his head against her chest.

“Anything in particular?” She kept combing his hair with her fingers. Victor closed his eyes, enjoying her care.

“How far we have come. How we were before, how we are now.” He mumbled.

“We did come a long way, didn’t we?” She was reminiscing. “I remember my trip to Loveland. It felt like navigating uncharted waters. I have changed so much since then.”

“Why did we give up? We never give up.” He looked up to her, knowing he didn’t need to specify. The look in her eyes told him she understood.

“I can’t give you a child, Victor.” She answered weakly.

“But we can have one. We can adopt. She may not be our blood or share physical characteristics, but we will love her. She will be ours, be a Lee, all the same.”

Andrea watched him lovingly as he spoke, tears brimming her eyes.

“I don’t want to give up just yet.” This time, it was his turn to ask. “Will you do this with me?”

“Yes.” She smiled as she let a tear fall. “I will.”

[mrsrcbinscn]

Franny Robinson HC Infodump #7: More Music Stuff

tw: mentions of psychedelic use (it’s clear it is in moderation but)

Cover Contributions To Tribute or Charity Albums (and other notable covers):

King of the Road: A Tribute to Roger Miller - Franny recorded a cover of The Moon Is High (And So Am I) for the album. There’s a really cute video uploaded on her YouTube channel of her recording the song and she’s playing acoustic guitar and dancing around in place as she sings in several takes. It’s one of the few internet videos where her husband is seen, because sometimes the camera pans to the sound engineer booth when he’s sitting next to Serghei, her go-to sound guy.

She participated on the charity album BBC Children In Need: Got It Covered, since England’s been her home from nearly twenty years now. She sang a slowed down, gentler version of Pat Benatar’s Shadows Of The Night. (inspired by that being a song I vividly remember my mom singing to my siblings and I lmao)

For the album The Music Is You: A John Denver Tribute, Franny sang Rhymes and Reasons.

On a John Prine tribute album released in 2017, Franny and the other half of the duo Dara & Danny, Daniel Maitland, recorded In Spite Of Ourselves for the album.

For a Connie Francis tribute album, Franny sang Where The Boys Are

Franny, along with black country singer Erica James, curated a Charley Pride tribute album, featuring solely country or country-adjacent singers of color. “Charley Pride, when I discovered a black country artist, as an Asian-American growing up in the 80s, that was amazing to me. Because little Cambodian me was like, ‘wow, so you don’t gotta look like Dolly or Willie to love this music.’ Everyone thinks country and bluegrass music is white people shit, but it ain’t. It was always a mix of folks influencin’ it. DeFord Bailey paved the way for Charley Pride, who paved the way for Darius Rucker, who paved the way for Jimmie Allen, Willie Jones, Mickey Guyton, Erica right here, and non-black POC like myself and Dan(iel Maitland). It was such an honor to get to curate this album with Erica. Amazing.” Franny recorded Does My Ring Hurt Your Finger for the album.

On the Tracy Lawrence tribute album Good Ole Days, she recorded As Any Fool Can See with him

She was featured on Brooks & Dunn’s Reboot, recording She’s Not The Cheatin’ Kind

During a SiriusXM session, she sang Gretchen Wilson’s When I Think About Cheatin’, and the performance w/ent viral

On a Leonard Cohen tribute album, she recorded A Thousand Kisses Deep and that cover also became popular

During a Spotify Sessions recording with Seoul Hanoi’d, Franny recorded a cover of Marcy Playground’s Sex & Candy, which also blew up, prompting Seoul Hanoi’d to officially release it on their 2018 album. It was the second of five singles off of the album, and Franny in the music video was Hot ™

During a Spotify Sessions recording as a solo artist, Franny recorded a cover of Kris Kristofferson’s From The Bottle To The Bottom

Khmer Music:

Franny, for the most part, does not record or perform pop music. However, she’s collaborated on tracks with Cambodian pop singers

She writes a lot of songs used in the soundtracks of Khmer tv dramas, and sings a lot of them as well

She’s known as The Soundtrack Queen in Cambodia

In addition to a lot of songs for film and tv, she’s released three albums entirely in Khmer. A jazz album comprised of original songs and Khmer language versions of classic jazz songs; and two in the indie/alternative style of music similar to Seoul Hanoi’d

And she’s recorded Khmer versions of several of her most famous songs

With other Cambodian diaspora musicians, she regularly collaborates on special covers of iconic Khmer 60s and 70s songs

Songwriting

Franny’s even more active as a songwriter than a recording artist. She’s got over 1,000 songwriting credits to her name.

She began writing songs “when I was 11, but they were atrocious, unsalvageable things. The first song I wrote that ever saw the light of day even after heavy edits was first thought up when I was thirteen.”

Franny is openly bisexual and explores that in her songwriting-- however, most of her songs about women or her sexuality that she wrote “pre-2009-ish” she’s scrapped or sold to other artists. Why? “Look, I’ve been married to my husband for almost twenty years now. And that doesn’t make me any less bisexual. But a lot of the songs I’ve written about women are from the perspective of a thirteen through twenty year old me, and at forty, I’m not the best narrator for those stories anymore.They are my lived experiences and my lived feelings, but I want to see how someone actually going through that will take it and interpret it. The songs I write about women loving women now are about characters I make up for the purpose of storytelling so they’re about women closer to my age, it’s about big girl love, not adolescent love.”

Common themes in Franny Sor Robinson songwriting: geography, vivid imagery like she’s showing you a picture of what she’s singing about, Buddhist themes, Christrianity (she’s a Buddhist but grew up in the Bible Belt so she’s very familiar with Christian themes), alliteration

Franny came under a degree of controversy in 2014 with the release of a song called “The Sabbath” because it was a tasteful song about how much she likes sex with her husband after they’ve been apart for a while, and Franny was like “you know you’d think the pearl-clutchin’ folks would be glad I practically worship my husband, but I forgot women ain’t supposed to actually enjoy sex.”

She's written another really sweet song about making love with her husband that did Not get hate because it was Acceptable TM and pretty romantic actually. Think along the lines of Josh Turner's Your Man or Dierks Bentley's Come A Little Closer. Songs deff about how they wanna get down but sweet.

After Franny retweet a clip of that Tyler Childers song in 2019 with the caption “big relate”, she was asked in a tweet if a follow up to The Sabbath was in the cards. Franny replied with “there’s a demo recorded for a song I wrote about six years back and that’s that on that.” Yes, Franny Sor Robinson indeed has written a song about masturbation. She’s performed the song live a few times, however, it is still unreleased officially

Franny’s written songs with lyrics alluding to her family’s experiences under the Khmer Rouge and escaping and resettling around the world, she cleverly hides them among her albums so people accidentally digest some education

Cornelius is the well-documented muse for “every love song I’ve written that I don’t specify in the album notes or an interview is written about a character. My husband is the love of my life and had given me twenty years and counting of great material to write about.”,

Franny’s been on both ends of this story. In 2019, a song Franny wrote but didn’t record became a smash pop hit after she and her producer sent it around to other producers. They recorded Franny’s demo in mid-2017 and they and the bigger pop producer that worked on the song with them listened to over 20 demos of the song until they found the right person to sing it.

And in 2013, Franny got a huge boost to her fame when she was the featured vocalist on a pop song that became a global smash hit. Franny doesn’t typically do like...super top 40 pop type music, but she liked the song so when her agent suggested she record a demo for it and send it back to the producer looking, she was like “sure, okay” and then was absolutely surprised that they chose her over some of the names she knew also recorded demos for the song.

Misc. Music facts

In 2019, a group of NYU students (where she did her undergrad) made a Franny Sor Robinson tribute album project; the majority of the students were Asian students in the university’s music programs who cite her as a big inspiration for them pursuing music. She 100% cried

For the Netflix show Just Trust Me that she co executive-produces, Franny is also one of the people who soundtrack the show

In 2020, to celebrate the 10 Year Anniversary of her biggest solo album’s release, she pulled a The Story And Cover Stories (we stan Brandi Carlile) where it was re-released along with cover versions of each song by other artists including some of Franny’s biggest living musical influences. All proceeds for the album were donated to Cambodian Living Arts.

Franny has openly admitted in interviews to using mushrooms, LSD, and DMT before in songwriting sessions. Her stance is Kacey Musgraves’ stance. Franny quote from 2019, “Used responsibly, I think psychedelics are a worthwhile experience to have. But safety and education are key. I truly don’t believe they are party drugs. Psychedelics aren’t a party, they’re a deeply spiritual and philosophical journey.”

[kurtty-drabbles]

Lara Croft au (Part 9)

N/A: Is this story getting to a closer? I think so. I´m not great with endings but you know...I´ve been reading some books that have some pretty sloppy endings...and yeah I can do better.

@dannybagpipesarecalling @djinmer4 @bamfoftheundead @muninandhugin

As some people may have guessed and pointedly call out in the past, Kitty is no real Archeologist-to be fair, she never claimed to be one- her job is to recover ancient items and not all the Archeologist like to dirty their hands-which is almost funny to Kitty and Doug but that´s not the place or time- usually, Kitty would venture into temples or even fight bad guys-always tunning the Star Wars theme or Indiana Jones just because- and have a blast. Phasing powers are a blessing and if you have the brains to know HOW to use it, well, her job is no longer a job, but, rather a fun ride.

However, today is not the day for such a fun ride. Kitty is growling as her eyes locked at passage number 3. Sweat is covering her forehead- it is a lucky Kitty is with her hair-brained for practical reasons- and is running until she founds a source of light and when she arrives in such a source of light can only state in a deadpan way. "Oh my god, we´re really stuck here?!"

Doug is trying to decipher the languages in the wall and Kurt and Logan are always presented having reached the same conclusion as Kitty. "Yeah, this" Logan points at the central hall where everything and everyone is connected. " is a fucking maze" and Kurt is the only silent as Kitty avoids to even look at him.

Doug now pipes in. "I thought it was magic. You know, Zaorva IS the Mother of Magic" Doug shrugs off as no one seems very inclined to give opinions about magic. Shame. "But turns out this room where we are...is actually connected, no, for real. This room is always spinning so every time one person tries to leave...it will end in the same place...." and he pouts. "Is no magic...just technology and tricks"

Kurt has no time to ask why Doug is disappointed by that. "Can we do something to leave?" his mind wonders about this crazy woman named Amanda and how she is already ahead of them. She must have used magic to pass or Dr. Rory knows a secret.

And Doug gives a big grin to Kitty and Kurt. Only. "Well...I have an idea"

Kurt and Kitty aren´t very amused by that.

____________________________________________________________________________________________

A good plan is always something controversy if you ask Kitty. I mean, is not that she would reject a good plan or would act without thinking- Some people would argue with Kitty about that. Storm certainly would- most of the time, but, sometimes, a good plan can also be a bad plan. Is all about the point of view.

"So...are you still ignoring me?" Kurt asked and his grin falters a little. "I´d not know Amanda and even if I did why are you being like this?" Kurt demands now losing a bit of patience- Kurt has no idea who this Amanda is or how he meets her IF he ever meets this woman at all- and Kitty looks away to see the big triangle item and back to his golden eyes.

Oh, the same color as the triangle.

"Kitty!"

"I..don´t know...ok" Kitty and Kurt hugging as the woman phased them to the ground to where the triangle is may not be the best hour to have a heart-to-heart talk, although, Kitty Pryde and Kurt Wagner doesn´t seem to mind this little detail.

And Kurt is certainly not impressed by this answer. "No, it must be something else...and I refused to be hated for something I didn´t do it ...so tell me, why are you treating me like this..." and Kitty tries to scoff but is pointless.

"I don´t know exactly...I...don´t like the idea of you having to sleep with that woman or that you may have noticed her instead...of someone else and at the same time...I don´t like that I care...I´m" she stops and swallows her pride as much she can. "not great with certain feelings" she can feel her check heat up and refuses to look at Kurt. "and I can be immature at times ..."

And Kurt makes a soft "Ohh" and responds again. "I´m not that type of slut ...I would remember if I had slept with a woman, also, I told you...I have a type" he jokes as Kitty didn´t get his meaning. "and if you have trouble with this type of feeling. Is ok...I have too. When I was young...way younger than you" he jabs at her age and Kitty is not impressed. "I once mistake love with sex and well...I was the one having my heart broken" there´s a sad smile now. "and I can be insensitive at times too"

"Triangle!" Kitty said and Kurt looks to the side to see the triangle. "Yeah, let´s have another of those triangles when we spot another triangle" a weak joke but Kurt manages to catch the triangle and Kitty lifts them.

"You could have said...Let´s have a chat next time we see the  Chaos Emerald's"

"I stop playing Sonic a long time ago, Katzchen"

_______________________________________________________________________________________________

Logan for once thought this would be a fairly easy mission. Solve some puzzles and defeated the bad guys. Nothing simple than that, right? Wrong, when they arrived in what appears to be the grand room, well, Logan noticed two important things- one, this place was built for a giant and he wonders about the logistic of how one would make such place, and, two, Dr. Rory´s body lays 10 feet away from them as Amanda is greeting them with an insane grin as her eyes are twitching- Doug is the one to say something about the situation.

"Ok...now, we have a problem" Doug mentions and Logan would like to say something "No shit, Sherlock" but his eyes spot Amanda´s hands holding the Tiaras. Shit, he thought, she is already found the tiaras.

Kurt and Kitty noticed this fact as well. "Katzchen, do you have a plan?" and Kitty send a glare to Kurt and thankfully he seems to get the message. Distract and take the tiaras out of her hands, easy said and done-especially now as Amanda starts laughing manically and puts the two tiaras together forming a new one- "NOW I SHALL BE THE POWERFUL ONE. MORDO WILL BOW TO ME"

And Amanda puts the Tiara. Said item made her glowing - so bright the group closes their eyes and even look away- however, soon the glow was followed by screams. Her screams.

Her body starts to mutated into something grotesque. Her flesh increases of size as her form resembles less and less of a human, until, finally, there´s nothing wearing the tiara. The glow stops and the group looks to see flesh, blood and now two seperated tiaras looks completely clean.

Kurt looks at Kitty. "Wanna an advice? Let´s say there´re no tiaras here..."

"I agree with you"

[hms-chill]

RWRB Study Guide: Chapter 2

Hi y’all! I’m going through Casey McQuiston’s Red, White & Royal Blue and defining/explaining references! Feel free to follow along, or block the tag #rwrbStudyGuide if you’re not interested!

Cakegate (21): Reference to Watergate, a political controversy from the 1970s; the Watergate Scandal still holds quite a bit of prevalence in American culture. (More) 

Situation Room (22): the John F. Kennedy Conference Room, AKA “the Situation Room”, is a secure conference room in the basement of the West Wing. (More) 

The Sun (22): A British tabloid.

Deputy Chief of Staff (Zahra’s position, 23): The Deputy Chief of Staff is the top aide to the president’s top aide, and is responsible for ensuring that everything runs smoothly within the bureaucracy of the White House. 

Howard (24): Howard University is a historically Black university just outside of Washington DC. It opened in 1867, just after the end of the American Civil War and is known for its STEM programs and law school. (More)

Equerry (24): A personal attendant to a member of the royal family (historically, someone who was in charge of their horses).

ITV This Morning (26): A British daytime cable show

SNL (26): Saturday Night Live, an American sketch comedy TV show that brings in a new celebrity host every week. 

People (27): An American magazine that covers celebrity gossip.

Clintons (27): Bill Clinton has one child, Chelsea Clinton, and her parents worked to shield her from the press during his presidency.

Sasha and Malia (27): President Obama’s daughters, who were pre-teens and teenagers during his White House years and have faced rather invasive press coverage since. 

Patsy Cline (28): An American singer from the 1950s, considered one of the most influential vocalists of the 20th century and one of the firsts artists to cross from country music to pop, (Listen here and here)

Op-Ed (28): “Opposite the Editorial”; a one-page piece of writing for a magazine or other news piece that is not associated with the views of the publication.

Essential Oils, Cabin in the Vermont Wilderness, LLB Vests, Patchouli (29): These are all markers that Nora’s parents are outdoorsy, maybe to the extent of being a bit detached from the “real world”. 

Essential Oils: These are oils that can help people relax or create a positive atmosphere, but have little to no health benefits beyond that. Many people believe they can help cure serious or chronic illnesses.

Cabin in the Vermont Wilderness: Vermont’s wooded areas would be a very nice place for a cabin

LLBean vests: LLBean is a brand that sells high-end outdoors clothes

Patchouli: A type of essential oil

Mutton Pie (30): A small, double-crust meat pie native to Scotland but common throughout the UK

Oxford (30):  Oxford University is the oldest university in the English-speaking world, and with a 17% acceptance rate in 2017, it is an incredibly difficult school to get into. For American applicants, they require a 3.7 GPA (based on a 4.0 system) and a 32/36 on the ACT. (More)

Eton (31): A posh boarding school for boys 13-18, founded in 1440. It is one of the most prestigious schools in the world.

Great Expectations (31): a 1860-61 novel by Charles Dickens, where a young boy rises above a lowly birth to be “worthy of” a rich girl he falls in love with, (More)

Khakis vs. Chinos (32): Chinos are tighter than khakis and tend to be a bit more dressy. (More)

Gap vs. J. Crew (32): Gap is a relatively inexpensive brand; J. Crew is a more expensive alternative.

SeaWorld San Antonio (32): SeaWorld is a theme park/aquarium known in the past ten years or so for inhumane treatment of its animals.

Walrus Mustache (32): A thick, bushy mustache that falls over the wearer’s mouth. (More)

Land Rover (33): A British brand of car that offers only premium and luxury sport vehicles.

Shaan (33): Hindi name meaning “Pride”.

Aston Martin (33): A sports car favored by James Bond.

Kensington Palace (33): A relatively modest palace surrounded by Kensington Gardens, the traditional home of royal children.

Millionaire who wants to hunt you... (35): A reference to the short story “The Most Dangerous Game”, in which a rich man lures the protagonist to his private island and hunts him for sport.

Texas Panhandle (35): A rural area of northern Texas.

Waterboarded (36): Tortured; this is a reference to America’s history of torturing people in Guantanamo Bay.

Helados (37): Fruit-flavored ice cream bars from Mexico.

Nate Silver (38): American statistician and writer who created an algorithm to predict baseball players’ future success. He has more recently switched to highly accurate political predictions.

GW (38): George Washington University, a college in Washington DC where Alex goes to school.

Data Czar (39): A position in a company where the person who holds it manages that company’s data and reports directly to its top management.

PPOs (39): Private Patrol Officers or bodyguards

Cornettos (39): A British ice cream cone with nuts and chocolate, similar to an American drumstick.

Signet ring (40): A ring with the king’s seal; traditionally that seal would be pressed into wax and would serve as a substitute for the king’s signature. It signifies royal power

Beans and white toast (41): This is... a genuine British breakfast. Just plain beans and white toast. Beans are a staple in both Mexican and Texan/Tex-Mex foods, but they are typically heavily seasoned.

Yellow pill (41): From what I could find, this could be a pill used to deal with anxiety/symptoms of anxiety, such as Clonazepam.

Jolly old England (41): A very English way to refer to England.

Royal Marsden NHS Foundation Trust (44): A specialist cancer treatment hospital in London.

Alliance Starbird (44): The symbol of the Rebel Alliance in the Star Wars movies.

Caipirinhas (50): Brazil’s national cocktail; it is made in large batches and contains a sugar-based hard liquor, sugar, and lime. 

Pancreatic cancer (51): A type of cancer that is typically not caught until it has progressed to the point of being incurable. (More)

-------

If there’s anything I missed or that you’d like more on, please let me know! And if you’d like to/are able, please consider buying me a ko-fi? I know not everyone can, and that’s fine, but these things take a lot of time/work and I’d really appreciate it!

Chapter 1 // Chapter 3

[yan-purgatory]

Dauntless

Pairing: Yandere! Hyungwon x reader

Admin: ღ

Word Count: 2.6k

Divergent AU

“This will take me about four hours. Are you sure you have that kind of time to spare?” Hyungwon nodded, leaning back in the reclined black leather chair. The sleek material reserved for the most important of clients, meaning himself naturally. And this small luxury had some familiarity to the executive Dauntless leader, who’d found himself seeking this particular artist out many times.

He felt the cool sting of the rubbing alcohol on his collar bone, followed by the stencil being pressed into his skin and peeled off. He opened his eyes just in time to see (Y/N) powering up the tool. His eyes trailed down the parts of her body visible to him in his position. Seeing the feathers of a wing tattoo stretching across one arm, a black rose curving up each bicep. Art was splayed on nearly every inch of her body, yet the most beautiful part of her wasn’t touched by ink. Her face, which came into view as she held the whirring needle in her hand.

Having her lean close to him meant he could observe such beauty. The controversially cute upturn of her nose, the cut across one of her eyebrows, the hardened expression of concentration in her eyes. Being able to observe such a masterpiece of a woman relieved all pain of his tattoo. No anesthetic was necessary when he had (Y/N) to take his breath away.

Yet four hours passed far too fast. Before he knew it, she was leaning away and switching the tattoo needle off, wiping sweat from her forehead and offering him some water from a fridge in the corner. Hyungwon took the bottle without a thank you, letting the cool liquid trickle down his throat as he watched her remove the latex gloves and find a mirror.

“Do you like it?” The first words that left her lips in the four hours shocked Hyungwon out of a stupor, holding up the mirror to show off her work. A happy smirk worked its way onto his face as he saw the devil he’d always envisioned dancing along his collarbone, the tip of its horns reaching his shoulder.

“It’s great, thanks.” He replied simply. He would never be a man to grovel, no matter what kind of feelings (Y/N) gave him. He was a man of pride, and he wouldn’t let a tattoo artist become more powerful than him. She would be the one to run to him, to beg him to fuck her, to ask him to dominate him as he desired.

Yet she was not yet at that point. She was simply providing a service, no feelings involved. But already Hyungwon was seeing his feelings mixing into their relationship. And it wouldn’t take long for someone to push the balance and tip the scales.

As soon as (Y/N) had patched up his tattoo, Hyungwon was in a hurry to leave. The sensation of (Y/N) fingers on his skin was enough to leave him with desires that he was not ready to reveal. The deepest parts of his mind were flourishing, and she couldn’t know that until she was ready to be all his.

Without so much as a thank you he had left the parlour, brushing past his associates without any consideration. The only thing on his mind was getting back to his apartment whilst his euphoria was lasting.

He slammed the door closed as soon as he was inside, not a care in the world about how he could damage it. It wasn’t his problem, he could replace it a thousand times over with his healthy wage.

Hyungwon just collapsed onto the sofa and immediately unzipped his jeans, one hands creeping into his pants. Hyungwon leant back, his mind racing with all kinds of dirty thoughts. Imagining (Y/N)’s fingers moving from his chest to where his hand was situated, or even her mouth. Imagining how her lips would quiver, how he would make the brave girl weak beneath him.

Such ideas spilt over, and soon Hyungwon was gasping in pleasure. Sweat rolled down his forehead and his eyes rolled to the back of his head as he groaned her name in pure ecstasy.

Yet after he was finished, something crossed his mind. An unplanned yet brilliant situation, that would help him achieve his objective.

He’d left his jacket at (Y/N)’s tattoo parlour.

~ ღ ~

‘She’s simply honoured to have me as a guest.’

Hyungwon was musing over their relationship as he prepared himself for the day ahead, combing his black hair out of his eyes neatly. There was a tinge of toxicity to his mind, a possessive streak. ‘I could buy her entire existence. I could remove her from her position and leave her in the streets to rot.’

He smirked at his reflection, tracing nimble fingers over the bandaged spot on his collarbone. Feeling the same places (Y/N) had touched him and imagining the same scenario but with both of them naked, her chest pressed to his and her warm breath on his ear and his-

A loud knock on the door killed his mood.

“We need you to assess a situation for us, another fight has broken out and one of trainees has broken some ribs.”

Hyungwon sighed irritably but told them he would be on his way, pulling on a shirt and letting all his thoughts be bottled up for later.

~ ღ ~

The parlour that was usually buzzing with customers early in the night had become quiet as it hit eleven. Hyungwon knew this well from the many visits that he’d spent covering the canvas of his body with her art. And he was excited to have another opportunity to visit, to woo (Y/N) and possibly get lucky, seeing as it was late at night and the chances of someone walking in were slim.

Yet, as he laid eyes upon the artist he discovers that he was not alone with her. Distracting (Y/N)’s attention with a perfect smile was a shorter man in a guard’s uniform, eyes sparkling as he whispered to her. Her hands were lethally close to his, the tattoo gun tracing the simple words of ‘Heart’ on his knuckles.

At the sound of the door, (Y/N) raised her head.

“Oh, I’m sorry but I’m with another client right now. And I can’t tattoo you again, it wouldn’t be good for your-”

“I left my jacket here,” Hyungwon replied icily, glaring at the other man sat in his chair with a shit-eating grin.

“I did find it yesterday, but I’m not sure where I put it. Search around all you like.” (Y/N) wasn’t fazed by his presence, but he was very much unwelcome in the eyes of his rival in the seat.

He stalked towards the duo, using just his body language to intimidate the other man, but this guard was of Dauntless. He wasn’t about to back down in fear of Hyungwon.

“Move. I need to find my jacket.” The younger man hissed, only to be met with a stony glare.

“(Y/N) is in the middle of my tattoo. Once it’s finished you can check the chair.” The reply was cocky and disrespectful and was clearly to be met with consequences.

“Kihyun, you should-”

“Know your place, pipsqueak, or you’ll be snuffed out.”

Kihyun didn’t flinch, glowering back with equal intensity, until a voice interrupted them.

“This is it, isn’t it?” (Y/N), the girl they both valued the attention of yet had forgotten she was present, was holding up a black leather jacket in her hand.

Hyungwon didn’t reply, simply taking it out of her grasp in one swoop and slinging it over his shoulder coolly.

The last chilling threat he gave Kihyun before leaving was one slender finger being drawn across his throat whilst (Y/N) wasn’t looking.

~ ღ ~

Hyungwon didn’t like sitting in the cafeteria, not when he has the choice of sitting in a lush reclusive area. But it gave him perfect view of his faction, the people that joined for their brave personality over all else but were mere ants in comparison to him.

The leader loved seeing his control. He especially loved thinking about all the ways he wanted to make (Y/N) his, but he always avoided indulging in those luxuries in public, knowing the effect they would have on him.

He still remembered the day of his choosing ceremony, how he’s easily sauntered over to the bowl of hot coal and let his blood sizzle. He remembered how he’d risen through the ranks in his training, easily becoming top of the class and winning every fight. And most of all, he remembered the victorious feeling of being elected as the leader of Dauntless, and how he’d felt looking at the face of his competitors and knowing that he was better and that he would always get what he deserved.

But even as he picked apart the hamburger a nasty sight caught his attention and drove all hunger away. The Kihyun fucker sat next to (Y/N), without a care in the world, as she spoke to him with an adoring look in her eyes. It was as if Hyungwon’s blood was on fire, as he stood up and let his chair fall back. The loud clatter drew plenty of attention to the executive, but he was already storming away. Those who dared to make eye contact with him saw nothing but murder hidden in those deep onyx eyes.

~ ღ ~

“What are you doing here?” Kihyun couldn’t help but burst out at the sight of the faction leader waiting outside his apartment, arms folded over his chest.

“I have something to talk with you about, pipsqueak. Follow me.” Hyungwon left no room for protest as he strode away, leaving Kihyun to follow.

As they walked through the pit, Kihyun observed that it was not bustling with life at all, and a sick feeling grew in his stomach as Hyungwon led him further down the spiral, towards the chasm.

“The power really has gone to your head, Hyungwon.” The first words that Kihyun spoke since they left the outside of his abode were dripping with toxicity.

Hyungwon stopped in his tracks, right before the gaping chasm.

“Yet you don’t seem to recognise the power I have.” He snapped back.

“Just because you beat me in the leadership contest doesn’t mean I have to kiss your boots.”

Hyungwon didn’t reply for a moment, watching the rushing waterfall.

“Why have you been getting close to (Y/N)?” He asked, not looking back at his rival.

“Why does that matter to you?” Kihyun replied simply, but that wasn’t good enough for Hyungwon.

“You’ve been trying to seduce (Y/N), haven’t you? Spending nights with her when she’s meant to be helping me and snatching her attention when I’m not available.” The Dauntless leader snarled, grasping the shorter male by the collar and tugging it harshly.

“What, am I not allowed to get a girlfriend because I threatened your position once?”

Hyungwon let out a noise of frustration before slamming Kihyun into the stone wall, a cry of pain coming from the security guard’s lips.

“You know that’s not why I’m so… concerned. It’s because I laid claim of (Y/N) a long time ago, and you don’t respect that.” Hyungwon’s rival opened his mouth to give a snarky reply only to gasp as he was hit hard in the stomach.

“I want you to stay away from her. If you can’t do that, leave Dauntless and live on the streets.” The leader was tough, but his opponent had a psyche made of steel.

“Like fuck, I will. I’m not giving in to your temper tantrum because the girl you like won’t fuck you.” It was almost like magic how Hyungwon’s face changed. What had previously been an expression of anger morphed into something more chaotic.

His grip on Kihyun’s collar was tightened as he dragged him towards the other side of the path, near the edge of the chasm where the railing was the only protection against certain death.

“You know how I spent most of this evening? I looked up your files. And I found your Aptitude test.” Seeing his victim’s face pale encouraged Hyungwon to continue with his nefarious scheme.

“And I was shocked to find that you were said to be a Candor.”

“You’re lying.” Kihyun gasped.

“But why would you pick Dauntless after testing for Candor?” Hyungwon ignored the accusation. “My guess is that you’re divergent.”

“You lying monster! My altitude test was Dauntless, and I’m not-“

“Tut tut. Such awful lies for a man who values honesty.” The smirk painted on the younger man’s face was something truly terrifying. “Now, I don’t think anyone would be surprised if a divergent like you just… disappeared.”

“You…” There was a reason Kihyun had tested so highly for Dauntless, and that was showing in his unwavering determination to not back down.

“What do you say, pipsqueak? You think you’re top dog, but you don’t belong here. You certainly don’t belong with her.” Hyungwon snarled, pushing Kihyun further against the metal railing and delighting in how his victim gasped in pain at the hard material digging into his back.

“Is the all over your fantasy with (Y/N)? I swear, if you’re threatening murder just because of some girl then you’re more off your rocker than I ever thought-”

“How dare you call her ‘some girl’!” Hyungwon roared, gripping Kihyun’s throat tightly. “She is MY girl, she is MY angel and I will fucking tear your throat out for your disrespect to the woman that is worth more than you could ever be, you good for nothing piece of shit!”

As Hyungwon ranted furiously, Kihyun tried to struggle away furiously, but he only found himself in more danger as he was pushed further back until the railing he was grasping onto was the only hope for keeping balance and not falling into the depths of the chasm.

Even so, his stubbornness wouldn’t let him give in. No matter what, he couldn’t just let Hyungwon monopolise (Y/N). She didn’t deserve that.

“Bastard.” Kihyun hissed, pushing against his opponent’s grasp. “You talk about her as if she’s your possession. She’ll never feel the way you want her to feel when all you do is jack off from her touching you and threaten her competitors, you idiot.”

“She’s going to love me,” Hyungwon affirmed, almost telling himself that. Clearly, Kihyun’s words had affected him more than he would have ever admitted.“Some divergent scum like you won’t change that.”

A foreign panic rose in Kihyun’s chest as his fingers were pried from the railing.

“Good thing you won’t be wasting our air anymore.”

The chasm claimed another life that night.

~ ღ ~

(Y/N)’s face was devoid of emotion, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as she absentmindedly cleaned her client’s hand. But Hyungwon was not happy with only half her attention, and he lifted her chin with his free hand.

“What’s up, babe?” The young woman blushed at his nickname. It was like he’d done a complete one-eighty in his attitude, being much more confident and flirty than (Y/N) was used to. She’d be a fool to say that she wasn’t melting under his heat.

“It’s just that I did this exact same tattoo yesterday. On Kihyun, in fact. Feels like some sick fate.” She replied, wiping her sweaty forehead. “I hope you’re not a divergent like him.”

“Never, babe.” He replied, relaxing. When she’s brought up the tattoo, he’d tensed thinking she was catching onto his plan but luckily the topic was shifted to the tragedy. More important than that, she was concerned about him. And they were well on the way to being the perfect couple that Hyungwon envisioned on lonely nights, despite the obstacle along the way.

Hyungwon truly had nothing to fear.

[sockparade]

tips for surviving the pandemic: things i learned from my immigrant parents

It’s hard to believe that it’s only been a little over a week since the WHO announced that the coronavirus (COVID-19) was officially a pandemic. This has been a long, challenging week for a lot of people and it is nothing short of terrifying to read reports of what is happening in Asia and Europe as many predict that we’ll likely endure a similar fate here in the United States. In the midst of all of this chaos and uncertainty, I’ve been reminded of so many lessons that my Taiwanese immigrant parents taught me. I’m sharing them here so that others might also benefit. Thanks Ma. Thanks Daddy.

你昨天已經出去了.

“You already went out yesterday.“

1. Learn how to stay home. Our family is eight days into self-isolating at home and Tony asked me this morning if I had cabin fever. And strangely, the answer is no. I’m not. Not to downplay the difficulty of this moment but my experience with this “shelter-in-place” ordinance reminds of pretty much all my summers between kindergarten and 8th grade. Both of my parents worked full-time so summer was just three blissful months of nothing. No structure, no plans, no camps, no playdates, and no responsibilities. My parents never made me feel like I was missing a thing by staying home and I don’t remember ever feeling bored. There were always library books to read, stories to write, and thoughts to journal. Hours were spent playing school with my big sister (now a first grade teacher!), making up random games like who can avoid touching the carpet longest, learning Kim Zmeskal’s latest gymnastics floor routine, writing lyrics to Kenny G saxophone solos, and rehearsing for our variety show that we would perform to our tired parents at the end of the day. And that’s not even including the hours we spent watching The Price is Right, CHIPS, Knight Rider, and Airwolf (yep, no cable).   

As a teenager I carefully plotted all my hangouts with friends so that I didn’t have too many consecutive days when I was out of the house. Whenever I asked my parents if I could hang out with friends, they would always say, “But you already went out yesterday. What’s wrong with staying home? Why do you always have to go out?” It was as if having too much fun two days in a row was off limits. If there was a big party on Friday, I would purposely make sure I stayed home Wednesday and Thursday just to increase the chances of being able to go out on Friday. I know a lot of people talk about how awful their high school years were but I was one of those lucky kids who had a really great group of friends that made me feel seen, loved, and cared for. The downside was that I couldn’t get enough of it. I was always thinking about the next hangout, the next event, the next thing. It took me all the way until my late twenties to fully appreciate the fine art of staying home and to finish my unexpected transformation into the expert homebody that I am today. 

I’m reminded of that old quote by Blaise Pascal, “All of humanity's problems stem from man's inability to sit quietly in a room alone." 

It’s great to be out and about, but it’s also really important to learn how to stay home.  

______________________________________________

晚上要吃什麼？清冰箱.

“What are we eating for dinner?” “Cleaning the fridge.”

2. Be creative with what you have. I love food. Not in a foodie sense, but I get a lot of pleasure out of eating. I’m not a food snob by any stretch of the imagination. I thoroughly enjoy a Stouffer’s frozen lasagna or a peanut butter and jelly sandwich as much as I enjoy a fancy, inventive, Michelin-starred meal at Commis. What’s hard for me is when food is eaten as sustenance rather than with delight. But my parents taught me that you can always take pride in preparing a meal. No matter your ingredients.

My mom is an excellent cook. I know a lot of people think their mom is a good cook but my mom is legitimately skilled in the kitchen. There were some nights when I’d ask what was for dinner and my mom would just reply, “Cleaning the fridge.” 

Now for some, this might sound terrifying. But my mom could honestly make something out of nothing. I still crave my dad’s simple egg and garlic fried rice. My parents raised me to be able to make an tasty meal just from rummaging in the pantry and fridge for random leftover things. There were plenty of summers where lunches and snacks were an individual culinary adventure for each of us kids. I still remember the day I witnessed my baby sister add a Kraft single on top of her onion ramen noodles. She saw my confusion, shrugged and said, “You should try it, it’s good.” 

With all the hoarding folks have been doing during this pandemic, I’ve found myself feeling quite anxious. Trying to calculate if we have enough food. Estimating how many more meals we can eat at home before we need to make another grocery run. As someone who struggles with a scarcity mentality it has been hard not to panic. But then I keep reminding myself that I know how to make good food using just whatever’s available. 

You know, I was pretty disappointed with Mary H.K. Choi’s second novel, Permanent Record, given how much I enjoyed her debut novel, Emergency Contact. But I was absolutely thrilled with the shine she gave to what her protagonist calls “Hot Snacks”.

Here’s an excerpt from Permanent Record that is a beautiful ode to creative food mashups and immigrant kids everywhere: 

“I edit and post a Shin Ramyun Black video set to music. My favorite instant noodles with three flavor packets and so much garlic. It’s a classic Korean HotSnack, especially when you throw in cut-up hot dogs, frozen dumplings, extra kimchi - and this is where the artistry comes in- eggs, cheese, corn from a can, and a drizzle of sesame oil on top. And furikake if you’re feeling wealthy. The next night I put up a bacon, egg, and cheese not in a bagel but in a glazed honey bun. Laced with sriracha and pan fried on the outside. Then it’s chilaquiles with Spicy Sweet Chili Doritos and chorizo. Jamaican beef patty casserole disrespected with a smothering of Japanese curry and broiled. With Crystal Hot Sauce over the top and pickled banana peppers. I’m trolling with that one but the controversy is berserk. When I run out of old videos, I make saag paneer naanchos with Trader Joe’s frozen Indian food, and it’s a hit. Especially when I add yogurt and a thick layer of crushed-up Takis on top.”

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看連續劇.

“Watch soap operas.” 

3. Find a way to escape. I’m generally pro technology but I’ll admit I’m a little bummed at the way iPhones and iPads have made TV viewing such an individual activity. I like how Disney+ has gotten some families back to watching TV together again. Although I will say, we really coddle our kids these days. I grew up in a time when movie ratings only applied in the theaters and we watched movies with our families like Alien, The Fly, and Gremlins. We were scared out of our minds and sometimes could only watch through the cracks between our fingers covering our eyes because it was so scary. Okay, this also might be why I can’t watch horror movies as an adult. 

From a young age, my parents taught me that watching other people’s drama unfold on screen is one of the best way to escape your own drama. Some people say binge watching became a thing when the TV networks started releasing shows on DVD. Others give credit to Netflix releasing their original content a whole season at a time. But truth be told, I first learned how to binge watch from my parents. 

We would rent 30-40 VHS cassette tapes from that random spot in Bellaire Chinatown. Can you picture it? You needed multiple plastic bags to transport that many VHS tapes. 

Do you remember the one about the dying mother who needed to find homes for each of her 7 children? I don’t think it’s normal for a 10 year old to cry so much but you better believe it’s made me learn the true value of a soap opera escape hatch. 

Are you in a pandemic? Now’s the perfect time to pick up that YA novel, binge that reality show, start that kdrama, or rewatch all six seasons of The Sopranos again.

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下個禮拜會下雨.

“It’s going to rain next week.”

4. Be informed about what’s ahead. If you ask either of my parents about the weather at any given time they can reliably tell you the daily percent chance of precipitation and humidity for at least seven days out. They’ve always been this way. They would inform me of the weather at various points throughout the week. They planned their yard work and car washes around the weather forecast. There’s something about the way the weather forecast is available to everyone. And it feels like it’s just a matter of making the small extra effort to access it and gain a slight advantage. I feel like so much of the immigrant mentality is to be diligent in making the right choices to not screw yourself over and seizing opportunities whenever you can. And it wasn’t just weather but this is such an obvious example of it. 

I remember my dad saying to me once, "Can you imagine if someone decided to read every book in their local library? If they just went shelf by shelf and systematically read all the books? You could do it, you know. It’s free, it doesn’t cost any money to check out a book from the library. But no one really does it.” 

I think immigrant parents get a bad reputation for forwarding chain letters and health/science hoaxes they get on email, WeChat and Line. And in a pandemic, yes, they are definitely susceptible to misinformation, rumors and flat out untruths. But the thought behind it seems right. 

The mistrust of government leadership is actually quite relevant right now in this pandemic. Many immigrants left countries with governments that were overtly corrupt, oppressive, and used propaganda to influence its citizens. And while many Americans still take pride in living in a country that verbally champions freedom and democracy, the truth is that our government has already failed us and lied to us in many ways. During this pandemic, we cannot wait on leaders to tell us what to do. We must be diligent in reading for ourselves, seeking experts, using our critical thinking skills, and making preparations accordingly.

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會不會冷?

“Are you cold?” 

5. Check in with yourself. Check in with others. I have so many memories of my parents walking through the living room and asking me and my sisters if we were cold. It felt like they couldn’t walk past the thermostat without asking us if they needed to raise it or lower it. As if they couldn’t hear us sneeze and wonder if they needed to turn off the ceiling fan. They couldn’t see us sitting in a dim room without turning on a light for us. There are so many times I fell asleep reading on the couch and woke up with a blanket over me. Or sometimes I was fully awake doing something random, like playing Egyptian Rat Screw with my sisters (a cardgame for the uninitiated), and my mom would walk by and wordlessly drop a warm, heavy blanket over my shoulders. That’s care, y’all. Consistent, immediate action, and often without words.  

The tip here is to pay attention to your discomfort during a pandemic. There’s this immigrant stereotype of stoicism and that’s true to some degree but maybe the resilience is made possible not because of unnatural toughness but largely because immigrant parents can also be so incredibly perceptive and tender in some very tangible ways. 

When everything is chaotic around you and you’re busy multitasking these next few months, don’t ignore your needs. Notice how you’re feeling. Physically and emotionally. Where are you carrying your stress and tension in your body? You don’t have to tough it out. Oh and remember to check in with your people on how they’re feeling. Is there a light switch you can turn on for someone? 

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笑死人.

“Laugh to death.” 

6. Laugh to survive. Look, we didn’t have the perfect family or anything like that. We’ve definitely had our share of difficult times, financial stress, health issues, arguments, and pain. But my parents also really knew how to laugh and taught us to laugh with abandon. Like, bent over, tears running out of your eyes, can’t breathe kind of laughing. Our dinner table was kind of like a writer’s room. It was difficult to tell a mediocre story. You had better come prepared with a punchline or a point. It was a tough crowd, every night. On many occasions I stopped myself halfway through a story upon the self-realization that there was no real way to land the plane. Polite laughs were nowhere to be found, except perhaps a charitable smile from my baby sister. But it didn’t stop us from trying. I think my sisters and I are all probably better storytellers for it and we definitely have learned to try to bring humor into difficult times.  

I know that this pandemic is so incredibly dark and depressing that it can sometimes feel disrespectful, inappropriate, or childish to laugh at anything. But my parents taught me that you laugh to survive. Nothing is ever so dark that you can’t find a reason to laugh. And sometimes you really need to find something to laugh about.

I’ve been taking long breaks each day from major media news outlets but I have been finding such joy and laughter from the meme creators on IG and the comedic geniuses on Twitter. In Taiwanese when something’s really funny, people will say a phrase that is imperfectly translated as laugh to death. Like you killed a person it was so funny. Now’s the time to find that content or those people who will get you to laugh to death. 

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我要去挪車.

“I’m going to go re-park the cars.” 

7. Go to bed with a plan for the next morning. I grew up in a suburb of Houston, Texas where one property developer built the entire neighborhood and used the same eight or nine floor plans for all the houses but changed up the brick and trim color to keep things interesting. Most homes have a long driveway that connects a garage set near the backdoor of a home to the street. By the time I was driving, we had four cars in total -- two in the garage and two on the driveway. At the end of the day when everyone was home for the night and my dad was getting ready to go to bed, he’d announce, “I’m going to go re-park the cars.” Then we’d all kind of stop what we were doing and rearrange the order of the cars to match our morning departure schedules. This meant figuring out who was leaving when in the morning and sometimes also prompted brief check-in conversations about any changes in our usual routine. 

In a pandemic it can sometimes feel like there are a million different things to attend to and large conceptual concerns that demand your attention. But there’s something calming and centering about spending a few minutes each night thinking through specifically what needs to happen just tomorrow. Not the day after or next week. Get super tactical and specific about what tomorrow morning looks like. Check-in with your partner about any aberrations to your schedule (e.g. I have a super important conference call at 7am tomorrow) to minimize any unnecessary surprises. There’s something magical about setting up your morning that helps you rest just a little easier at night. 

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星期三我們有禱告會.

“On Wednesdays we have prayer meeting.”

8. Make time for your spirituality. Growing up my parents both had physically demanding jobs. My mom was a seamstress for many years, providing alterations at my aunt and uncle’s dry cleaners. She later worked in an elementary school cafeteria and then eventually became a classroom aide for special needs students. My dad worked at that same dry cleaners for years until he got a job at the post office. He then became a letter carrier, delivering mail on foot. The summer months were especially grueling, carrying a heavy sack of mail in 100 degree, humid weather, and walking until sweat soaked his shirts and blisters formed on his feet. They had every excuse to skip weeknight events. But unless they were sick in bed, I can’t remember a time when they missed their weekly prayer meeting with their friends from church.  

Pandemics have an unsettling way of forcing us to confront our mortality and can trigger a bunch of unresolved shit that has been bubbling underneath the surface. We’ve lost some of our usual coping mechanisms and it can be super hard to quiet the anxieties, fears, and other demons that we usually try to keep under control. This isn’t a lecture about a particular faith or belief system. It’s just a reminder to prioritize your existential questions, your interior life, and your connection to things much bigger than yourself -- whether that’s a community, a yoga practice, a faith group, a tradition, or something else. 

I have a fledgling meditation practice that I’ve been trying to strengthen since last year. When I say fledgling I mean that sometimes I bail before the ten minutes is up and check my phone. Even though I’m not very good at it yet, I can really tell the difference on the days that I make time for it. Our church started hosting its weekly Sunday service online and that’s challenging for me because a church service feels like it’s designed to be so much about the physical rhythm of going to a place, seeing faces of people I love, hearing their voices co-mingling with mine in song and in prayer, and tasting the bread and wine in my mouth. The online service was short, and just for viewing through a zoom conference call, but there was still something meaningful about setting aside that time Sunday morning, asking our wiggly kids to be present, and saying the liturgy out loud knowing that in homes all across the country, other people are doing the same. 

If things are really going to get as bad as some are predicting, we’ll need the spiritual strength to make it to the other side. Those habits are hard to form overnight. My parents taught me that you really have to make the time for your spirituality non-negotiable, so that you won’t abandon it when it’s inconvenient or when you are too tired.    

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沒辦法.

“What choice do we have?” 

9. Rise to the occasion. Whenever my parents are telling old war stories about things they had to do to get to where they are today, inevitably one of us will say, “Man that’s crazy, how did you manage to do it?” And instead of pointing to some super personality trait of theirs or some complex self-help principle, they always say, “We had no choice.” It’s not said in a defeated way, but in a posture of accepting that life can be cruel, unfair, and capricious. And that it’s not helpful to dwell too long on the why’s and how’s. My parents taught me that you can’t stay in despair mode. You eventually have to push yourself into problem solving mode and you do whatever it takes to move forward.  

This coronavirus is so unlike anything we’ve ever experienced in our lifetime. It is so unprecedented for me that my brain is having a hard time processing the reality of what’s happening right now and the rest of my lived experience. I spent the first few days of this week just being overwhelmed, anxious, angry, and irritable. At this point though, I’m in go mode. I’m doing what needs to be done for our family and taking care of business. What choice do we have? I can hear my parents saying it. One day, if we’re lucky, we’ll say it to our kids too. 

[spaceskam]

don’t lose your head

inspired by all you wanna do from six 

ao3

“For a soldier who stands in restrictive armor for most of his life, you’re quite flexible.”

“And good morning to you, My King.”

Michael couldn’t help himself as he traced the muscles on his soldier’s back. This was one of the benefits of being a king in a matriarchal country. He just had to look pretty and be loved by the people with frequent social events, and everyone would turn a blind eye to what else he got up to. Sure, there were other kingly duties, but most of that was handled by his wife’s mistress and beloved Dutchess, Rosa Ortecho. It left plenty of time for him to seduce men and women around the kingdom. For the last two months, though, he’d been stuck on High General Alexander Manes.

Michael hadn’t actually seen him without his helmet before the queen had begun requesting his presence at meetings, only hear of his legacy and his reputation. He was a fearsome warrior who worked his way up the ranks at a young age, proving his worth and loyalty. Even when he’d gotten hurt and lost his leg in battle, he quickly found a way to get back to his post. His new leg was funded by Queen Maria herself, a brilliant meld of iron and steel and surprisingly functional. He used a cane most of the time just in case, but Michael had seen him go just fine without it. Hell, he’d gone to battle without it. He was a warrior if there ever was one.

Which is why Michael was very shocked to see him without his helmet and in casual armor. He’d strolled into the meeting looking like something out of a painting. Actually, better. He was glorious and surprisingly kind and Michael had decided then that he’d be his next prospect.

“I don’t know what’s got you so fascinated, but it tickles when you touch that scar,” Alex said, his morning voice deep and alluring. A smile found Michael’s face and he propped himself up to get a better view of his back. It was littered in scars, but Michael was pretty sure he knew which one he was talking about.

He moved down, keeping his eyes on the man as he pressed a wet kiss to a thick, nasty scar that was on his side. Alex tensed up, bumps rising on his tan skin.

“This one?”

“Yes.”

Michael moved further down, trailing kisses to his hips and over the curve of his bare ass. His hands slipped between his body and the mattress. Alex spread his legs a little wider, letting him fit between them and kiss him a little deeper.

“This alright?”

“Mmm…”

You see, there was a system on how to seduce someone as a married-for-necessity person. He’d learned to perfect it by watching Maria the moment they discussed their engagement at fifteen. She had no desire to marry a loud, controlling man and he had no desire to marry into a place where he would have to make life-altering decisions for thousands of people. And they both had no desire to enter a forced, loveless marriage. It was a perfect fit.

Like her, he would start his approach by staring. If they stared back, it meant they were probably interested. Step two involved light flirting, slowly hinting that you were open to some extramarital activities. If they flirted back, maybe a little touching, and threw in a few innuendos, it was time to move to step three. That was the fun part. He was on step three with Alex. Step four, however, was the worst and hardest. It included careful watching and listening over the entire affair. The moment it became clear they were in it to climb ranks or to undermind you‒they had to go.

Michael had gone threw a slew of men who only used him to learn about Maria in order to get her hand in marriage and many women who were trying to become the next queen. Basically, every person he’d been with had an ultier motive. It was exhausting and tore away at his self-worth if he let it. He’d gotten good at knowing the signs though‒it always started with an “I think we have a connection” or a “so tell me what that meeting was about”. Alex was the first person who he didn’t have to worry about. He was already highly ranked and already at the meetings.

That meant comfortable, carefree bliss.

“There’s something poetic about a king being obsessed with something so trivial, isn’t there, Your Majesty?” Alex mused, impressively levelheaded for a man who just came. Michael lightly bit at the firm skin of his ass, basically the only part of him that wasn’t scarred, before tossing the cloth he’d used to wipe up the mess and crawling back to lay beside him face-to-face.

“It isn’t ass I’m obsessed with, it’s yours. And stop calling me Your Majesty,” he said, a helpless smile on his face as he kissed Alex’s shoulder. Sometimes he felt like his obsession was with Alex in general.

“Mm, okay, Michael,” Alex said, his eyes fluttering open seconds before he leaned in for a kiss on the lips. Michael took great pride in Alex’s willingness to keep his eyes closed around him and his back to him. He was on high alert with everyone else. Except for Michael.

Who he called Michael.

Because they were on a first-name basis.

Michael began smiling so wide he couldn’t even kiss back. Alex let out a laugh so sweet it made flowers bloom. Bless all the gods in the universe for that sound.

“If it’s poetic for me, then it must be poetic for the High General to take out his unquenchable lust on another man, yes?” Michael asked. Alex rolled his eyes, gently gripping Michael’s jaw.

“I take nothing out on you, my love. This,” he paused, becoming achingly serious and began using that magnetic look that pulled Michael closer, “This is shared.”

Michael had no control as he closed the space between them. He was instantly engulfed in a welcoming embrace, Alex’s fingers caressing everything from his hair to his thighs. This was it. This was heaven. He planned to never let this moment end. Never, never, never ever, never, never, nev‒

“Alright, I’ve got duties to attend to,” Alex said, ruining the moment with a pat on Michael’s hip before he sat up.

“No,” Michael whined, reaching for him. Alex swung his legs over the side of the bed and reached for his prothetic. “Stay here,” Michael tried, chasing the peace by pressing feather-light kisses on his lower back.

“You can whine all you like, but I have to go. So do you. Or did you forget you promised to pay a visit to the orphanage today? Something about gathering requests for the Christmas gifts you and the queen plan to get for them, right?” Alex said, smiling over his shoulder before he stood. Michael watched helplessly as Alex stretched, all the muscles in his body tensing and flexing and looking positively obscene.

Yes, bless all the gods indeed.

“As much as I want to give the orphans my love and attention, I crave your affection so much more,” Michael admitted honestly, his fingers itching to reach out and pull Alex back into bed. He knew he couldn’t and he knew even better that, come sundown, Alex would let himself into the king’s chambers for the night, but it didn’t make it any easier to let him go.

“You are such a needy little king,” Alex said, but his grin was so wide it didn’t feel like an insult. He leaned over and gave him one last kiss before he got dressed with impressive speed. Michael didn’t bother moving as he watched the free show.

That is until he was smacked with a shirt to the face.

“Michael! The orphans!”

“You know, I could have you exiled for assaulting the king,” Michael grinned, slowly pulling himself up and out of bed. He kept his eyes on Alex as he made his way towards his wardrobe. It was hard to not look at Alex when he was in the room.

“You could, but I feel like you might miss the ass that you’re so obsessed with,” Alex said, smiling so sweetly as he fastened his sword and sheath at his hips.

“Perhaps I might miss all of you.”

Alex cocked an eyebrow and Michael tried to pretend that wasn’t as pathetic as it sounded by continuing to get dressed in his finest casual wear. White stockings with a tight white shirt covered the base layer of his daily wear. Over it, he placed a long, dark purple silk tunic that was embroidered with gold. It was formfitting and angular, specially designed for him and inspired by other kingdom’s princesses with the way it cascaded towards his feet which had caused slight controversy the first time he stepped out in one. He topped it off with a cloak that fastened at his shoulders, pooling near the hem of the tunic.

“You’re wearing that to meet with the orphans?” Alex asked. Michael blinked a few times and looked down at himself. It seemed normal enough.

“Last time I went, they liked the softness of the silk,” he replied. Alex just smiled and came near, pressing a few haphazard kisses to his cheeks and then to his lips.

“Now I really must go,” he said and Michael really hated he had to kiss him once again. It just reignited the urge to pull him back into bed. “I’ll see you tonight, my king.”

Michael went weak in the knees watching him walk away, that confident swagger in his step even with a false leg and a cane. He had caught himself against the wall as he let his mind go dizzy with desire. This was different, different than anything before. High General Alexander Manes was otherworldly perfection. This one is it. He couldn’t get over him.

Fuck.

-

“My gods, your face.”

“What?”

Queen Maria didn’t try to even hide her laughter the moment Michael walked into their dining hall. She was already sitting, proving that he was later than late this morning. He didn’t mind. He was still reeling from his revelation that he was possibly genuinely into Alex. That was terrifying, but the rest of their morning had gone so well that it almost didn’t seem so bad.

“You’re smile is so large I have to assume it hurts,” she pointed out, easily catching the attention of their dining company. He rolled his eyes and took his place beside where she was at the head of the table and across from Rosa.

“Good morning, Rosa, the person who isn’t making fun of my happiness,” he greeted. She smiled back.

“Good morning, Your Majesty,” Rosa said, laughing softly and shaking her head.

Rosa and Maria had met not long after the wedding. They’d been doing their job of meeting all the dukes and dutchesses and anyone of importance. Rosa was the daughter of one of the greater dukes and had taken his place in recent years. It gave her a reason to be in the castle often, to stay often. Maria had fallen in love quickly.

Michael had approached Maria one night when he assumed she felt like he was feeling right now, just a little too blissful in a scary situation. It was one thing to have mistresses, it was another thing to grow attached to them. One couldn’t form romantic attachments in their positions. They had spoken about it at length and Maria decided she was worth the risk. So they trusted Rosa together.

She hadn’t let them down.

It was risky and dangerous, especially when it had to be so very hushed, but they managed. And they mostly managed by everyone in the castle condoning it. Every person who stayed with them, all of their servants and every lord and lady, knew that the queen and king were a little more fluidly sexual than they liked to announce. No one said anything. If they perhaps accidentally spotted something, they stayed quiet. They made have sent smiles or knowing glances, but they were silent. Michael’s theory was that they had no plan to jeopardize Maria’s status as queen when she was the best one they’d had in generations.

“I don’t mean to make fun, I promise,” Maria said, though it felt like a lie, “Tell me, tell me, this smile is because of your new… sword, yes?” Michael narrowed his eyes at her.

“Yes.” He decided he’d play along. He planned to have a more in-depth conversation about it with her later whenever no one else was around. He needed to sort out his feelings.

“I think this is the longest you’ve had a single sword.”

“This is the longest one that didn’t prefer you.”

Maria rolled her eyes but didn’t hide her smile as she thanked one of the cooks for the plate they placed in front of her. Michael thanked her as well before turning his attention back to his wife.

“This sword is making you very happy. I really didn’t think it would be your type. It’s very, uh… heavy,” she said. He furrowed his eyebrows for a moment until he got what she meant.

“What it’s done or can do means nothing to me. It’s what it does for me,” Michael said, hoping his words weren’t too obvious. They probably were. “I actually would like to discuss it with you later, if we can.”

Maria grinned with a level of genuine happiness that made him nervous.

“We can.”

-

“Tell me!”

The moment they were alone, Queen Maria turned into the little girl he’d grown up with who was so very eager to know who he kissed. As much as Michael wanted to be annoyed with the childish nature, he was just as eager to share. He’d spent all day at the orphanage with Alex on his mind. It made it very hard to remember everything they’d said and he hoped someone wrote it down or else he’d feel really bad come Christmas.

“Maria, I can’t even process this fully, I feel like I’m floating when I’m with him,” Michael admitted, letting her grab his hands and pull him further into her chambers, “I’ve never felt like this before.”

“I’m so happy for you!”

“He’s so beautiful, Maria. I didn’t know a warrior could be like him. He’s so kind and warm and he’s playful too! This is the first person who actually makes me forget my status for a moment, we’re just… us. We’re not a warrior and a king, we’re just Michael and Alex. He calls me Michael, Maria. I hadn’t even realized it until this morning how gone I am. I-I feel like I can finally breathe, but also like I’m going to vomit,” Michael said, trying to articulate all the things that Alex made him feel. It was difficult because he felt so much. “I’m comfortable with him. For once, I’m just… comfortable.”

Maria gave an adoring pout, resting her palms on his cheeks. Maybe she had a point earlier. His face was starting to hurt due to how much he was smiling.

“Does he feel the same?”

“I don’t know, maybe? He seems comfortable with me. It’s like he lets his guard down for me,” Michael tried, resting his forehead against hers. She was his safe place, she always had been. She was the one person who he could trust without question with absolutely anything.

It was strange that Alex was starting to feel like another safe place after such a short amount of time.

“He told me this morning that what we have is shared, that it’s not just lust. That means he has to feel the same, doesn’t it?” Michael asked softly. She smiled, rubbing her thumb over his cheek as she nodded.

“I think so.”

-

A knock echoed through Michael’s chambers seconds before Alex peeked his head through the door. Seeing his face again after a long day felt heavenly.

“Alex,” Michael greeted happily as he pulled off his tunic. Alex smiled nicely as he walked inside, closing the door securely behind him. He unbuckled the belt of his sheath, letting it fall to the floor without a thought as he neared him.

“I have had quite a day, my love,” Alex sighed, stripping as he came near. Michael took a deep breath before quickly doing the same. “I’m sure you had to train in sparing before. Were you as incompetent as all the young lords are?”

“Probably more so,” Michael admitted as Alex placed his cane to the side and rested his head against Michael’s collarbone. He wrapped his arms around the soldier.

“I suppose. I just have to have some incredible patience for them that I find hard to grasp. Was your day of children less bothersome?” he asked. Michael quirked a little smile. Talking about his day? In a non-political fashion?

How domestic.

“Yes,” he responded, kissing his bare shoulder, “We just played games all day. I sword fought with a few of them, though it was with sticks. Played dolls with another few. This little girl kicked my ass at swords though, I’m sure you could bring her in and she’d show up all those little lords you’re training.” Alex let out a laugh, lifting his head and resting against Michael’s forehead.

“Really? You should invite her next sparing session. I’d enjoy seeing some talent,” he suggested, closing his eyes and breathing slowly. God, he was beautiful.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“You’re a good king, you know,” Alex whispered, his fingers dancing across Michael’s waist.

“I am?” he said, pulling Alex just a bit closer. Alex led him the rest of the way until they were hip to hip.

“Yeah, I’m not sure what you know of the old king since you grew up elsewhere, but he was the worst. His main purpose was to make the public love him and he couldn’t even do that. But it’s nearly impossible not to love you and you’re so very involved. You’re good at your job. Of what you do of it, anyway, since I know you put stuff on others,” Alex said, giving him an open-mouthed kiss that trailed towards his jaw and neck. It made it so easy to forget that Alex was talking about him politically, the first omen.

“You do your job well too,” Michael responded. His eyes fell closed at the feeling of his kisses.

“Oh? You know what I do?”

“Um… fight?” Michael answered dumbly. He knew it was dumb, but he couldn’t help himself. War and fighting and armies never interested him and, while he’d been taught all the jobs, he’d forgotten. They seemed unimportant when he didn’t have to deal with them. And, even though he cared deeply for Alex, they didn’t talk about what he did. It felt taboo.

Still, Alex snickered against his neck and his hands moved down to grab Michael’s ass so firmly that it brought the king to his toes.

“I think it’s just to please you at this point.” Michael threw his arms around Alex’s neck and let himself be led towards the bed.

“I mean if that’s what you want…”

A light squeal fell from his lips as Alex threw him down onto the bed, kneeling beside him as he left kisses up his stomach. He only paused for a moment to remove his false leg before climbing onto Michael completely. He held him close.

Kisses were shared as they made their way beneath the sheets. For a soldier, Alex’s kisses were soft and felt like being wrapped up in the world’s comfiest fabric. They were just so perfect. Michael couldn’t help but know how well they fit. It was like their bodies had been crafted with the other in mind. It was overwhelming.

“Can I say something and you promise not to make fun of me?” Alex whispered as he rested his chin against Michael’s chest. It wasn’t very often, but Michael would be lying if he said he didn’t cherish the nights they just talked, no sex necessary. It made it sort of special. Of course, he loved the sex too. Definitely loved that.

“I never make fun,” Michael promised, combing his fingers through Alex’s hair. It was long and typically kept back in secure braids, but not tonight.

“Okay. Well… I really like what we have between us. It feels special. It doesn’t make sense for the two of us to have this kind of… connection. But we do. We do and it’s… I don’t know what else to say other than I feel tied to you on a different level. We’re connected. Do you agree?”

Oh.

The exact words.

Michael’s chest grew heavy as he stared at the man he trusted not to do this. Trusted to be different, to genuinely care. But maybe it was a coincidence and he meant it. Michael felt that connection. Then again, he’d felt it before. Maybe not as strong, but… it was there. He bought it before.

Michael flipped them over. Maybe if he made it a little less sweet and brought it back to how it was, then it would be okay. He enjoyed the sweetness, but not if it was at a cost to him. A cost to them. He kissed on his chest a little before grabbing his knee, pulling it up to put on his shoulder.

“Wait, wait,” Alex laughed, prying Michael’s fingers off his knee, “Can we save that for the morning? I’d like to just lay here with you. I’m too tired.” Michael thought about it for a moment. Technically, he could tell Alex no. Technically, as king, he could do what he wanted.

But somehow that felt wrong and he rolled to his side of the bed.

“Is everything alright?” Alex wondered for a moment of them laying on opposite sides of the bed without touching. Michael didn’t know what to do. He’d ignored so many omens because he wanted Alex to be honest and true. He liked that he didn’t have to worry with Alex.

Now he was worrying.

“I think you should sleep in your own chambers tonight,” Michael decided. Alex had managed to say both of the omens in one night. That couldn’t be a coincidence. That was on purpose.

“What? Did I say something wrong?” Alex asked. He looked so sincere that it hurt. “I didn’t mean to undermine you, Michael, I‒”

“I am your king,” Michael said firmly, watching Alex flinch as if he’d hit him, “You will address me as such.”

Alex gave a moment to look wounded before it quickly was covered up with a level of stoicism Michael hadn’t seen since he’d first walked into that meeting two months prior. He wanted to take it back, to plead him to stay, but then that’d just show Alex how much control he has. Not only that, but it would show weakness. Funny how a day can start so well and end so poorly.

“You’re right. I will, Your Majesty.” Venom dripped from his tone as he quickly put his leg back on and dressed even faster.

He was out the door before Michael could risk calling him back.

-

Sleeping alone after weeks of having a bed partner was horrible.

It was colder, darker. He could hear every creek, every footstep. It was horrible. All he wanted was Alex. But that wasn’t an option because he kicked Alex out because Alex was using him. Alex was using him.

Michael tossed and turned for a few more minutes before he decided that sleeping in a bed that smelled of Alex was torture and he needed to go elsewhere. Even if it was the middle of the night and he looked far less than presentable.

He quickly got dressed and made his way down the hall towards Maria’s chambers. He needed her advice. Or just needed her in general. He stepped up to her door and gave her a trio of knocks in warning before he stepped inside. Both women sat up quickly.

“Dutchess, would you mind if I have my wife for the night?” he asked simply, not really going to take no for an answer. Rosa nodded and slipped out of bed, passing him with a concerned smile.

“Sleep well, Your Majesty.”

“Michael,” Maria said once they were alone, “What’s wrong?”

At that moment, the build-up of the last few hours seemed to breakthrough. His bottom lip quivered as he tried to contain himself, but that didn’t last long before fat, pathetic tears started making their way down his face. She sat up even straighter.

“Alex… Why did I think he was different?”

“Oh, Michael.”

He instantly went to lay beside her, crying into her shoulder as she held him and rubbed his back. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so hurt over being betrayed. Usually, though, he could expect it, they seemed the type. Alex didn’t. He was already highly ranked, what did he have to gain? Maybe he was just trying to overthrow Maria.

“It just doesn’t seem like the High General to try to sleep his way to the top. Besides, he’s already at the top of his profession. Perhaps you misunderstood,” Maria suggested, combing through his hair. Michael sniffled.

“That’s what I thought, but he said everything they always do. He said that we had a connection and kept bringing up politics. Why do they all do that? Is there a handbook?” he asked weakly. She sighed. “And then I thought about how he’s so young. When is the last time we had a High General under the age of 40? And here he is, getting the title at 24. Maybe he slept his way to the top for that.”

“Maybe,” she sighed.

“I just… I thought he was different.”

“I know.”

They were quiet for a little while longer, her whispering her warm sentiments that it would be okay. It was always okay. He always healed after someone hurt him.

It just really didn’t feel like it this time.

-

Seeing Alex at the next meeting was harder than he anticipated.

Michael had kicked Rosa out of the queen’s bed four times before he began feeling bad about it and went back to try sleeping alone. He wasn’t getting much sleep at all. He’d gotten the servants to wash his sheets multiple times, but it seemed the smell of Alex had embedded itself into the mattress. It was a lost cause.

That being said, seeing him again was a lot harder than it should’ve been. Typically, if he had to see his paramours after it was over, he was more annoyed than anything. With Alex, it just took every bit of self-control not to beg him to come back and be true.

“Have you begun planning the winter’s ball, Your Majesty?”

Michael had to force himself to stop staring down Alex to realize he was being spoken to.

“Not yet. I was actually going to ask the Dutchess’ sister to help me again this year,” Michael said. Elizabeth Ortecho was a force to be reckoned with and he would be lying if he said he hadn’t tried to seduce her in the past. She’d said she had no interest in sleeping with him for favors but that hadn’t been what he had in mind. He more so just enjoyed spending time with her. It helped that she was gorgeous and commanding.

Maybe his attraction to Alex made a little more sense than he thought.

“I’ll reach out to her for you,” Rosa stated, smiling at him. He nodded his thanks before turning his eyes back to Alex.

Michael didn’t know why he kept staring. It’s not like he could reach out and touch, it’s not like he would benefit from staring, it’s not like he would come back. In fact, Alex shockingly cut himself almost completely off. He only addressed him when he had to. Everyone in the past had tried to get back in Michael’s good graces for weeks, if not longer, after he ended it. Alex had just accepted it. That hurt more than he could’ve known. It was almost infuriating.

No, it was infuriating.

Once the meeting was over, Michael made sure to catch Alex before he could completely disappear to wherever the High General disappears to. It was absolutely his fault whenever Alex responded to this by slamming him into the wall and throwing him on the ground. Still, Alex’s eyes widened in panic as he scrambled to help Michael up even when Michael knew it hurt him to bend down. But he understood why he was acting this way‒there were witnesses.

“Your Majesty, I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize it was you, please forgive me. I never would’ve if I knew it was‒-”

“No, it’s alright. I should’ve known better than to catch a soldier off guard,” Michael said. Now that he was in front of Alex, speaking to Alex, he had no idea what the plan was. No matter how much he missed him, he still used him. That wasn’t something he could just ignore.

“Is there something I can do for you, Your Majesty?” Alex asked, standing tall with his hands clasped behind his back. Michael rubbed the back of his head, willing away the dull pain that was brewing from it hitting the floor. He was aching just enough to be stupid.

“I would like to speak with you privately if you have a moment, High General,” he said as if he had something to say. Alex clenched his jaw and looked around, probably seeing if he could deny the king with the people watching. Apparently, he decided that he couldn’t.

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

Michael led him to the small-ish corridor and, the moment they were alone, it got even more uncomfortable. Which was a shame because it was never uncomfortable between them. Not until now.

“What do you need from me, Your Majesty?” Alex said, this time holding a lot more venom than it had when other people were around. Michael just stared at him, trying to figure out what he wanted to say. What could he say?

“What did you get out of being with me?” he blurted out. Alex huffed a laugh, licking his lips so slow that Michael couldn’t help but stare.

“Is that a serious question?”

“Yes,” Michael answered. He had been confused about what exactly Alex was getting out of using the king and the only thing he could come up with was that he was trying to overthrow the government. That was the only step up.

Alex tilted his head back and took a slow, deep breath. “Do you understand that you’ve reinforced a power dynamic? I can’t say anything in full honesty in fear of upsetting you because you have the power to exile me. We had done away with that. You brought it back. Is that understood before I speak?” Michael gulped softly. He didn’t want that. He wanted Alex to be his equal.

“You can tell me anything, I won’t get angry,” he said, preparing himself to be told that he was being used. He knew it. He needed to hear it. “There’s no power imbalance here, not when it’s just me and you.”

“Are you sure about that, Your Majesty?” Alex said. Michael bit the inside of his cheek and nodded.

“Yes, Alex,” Michael responded. Alex took a heavy breath and looked around before looking Michael straight in the eyes.

“I loved you.” And Michael felt the air escape his lungs all at once. “That’s what I got out of it. I got something comforting and carefree which isn’t something I have ever experienced. And then I realized that I didn’t even know you, that we hadn’t really done much talking. Then the moment I try, you shut me out. You forced me back to being your lesser. I refuse to have a relationship like that, so, whatever it is you want, I don’t think I can give it to you.”

Michael didn’t like that. How did he manage to turn it against him? How was Michael the bad guy? How could he say that?

“No, that isn’t what happened,” Michael insisted. Alex raised his eyebrows and tilted his head to the side, a condescending sexy smirk on his face. Gods, wouldn’t this be easier if he were ugly?

“Oh?”

“You-you used me. You were just sleeping with me to, to get to Maria or overthrow the government!” he accused. Alex’s eyes went wide before he started shaking with laughter, his palm pressed over his lips in some veiled attempt at hiding his reaction.

“My gods, how many people have done that to you? You poor thing,” he said, “Listen to me, Michael, if I’m allowed to address you as such, my intentions were true. Take that as you will.”

When he walked away, Micahel felt more confused than before.

-

“And he said his intentions were true! What does that mean?!”

Michael could hear Liz laughing at him as he paced back and forth in the large ballroom. He was supposed to be standing still for the tailor to work on his ball outfit, but he was far too distracted. Alex had taken over his entire mentality.

“Maybe it means his intentions were pure,” Liz responded and Micahel scoffed, “Maybe he truly wanted to get to know you.”

“Why would he go about it that way?!”

“Because that’s what people say!”

Michael huffed, letting the tailor force him to stay still and poke a few needles in the fabric. Liz crossed her arms as she neared him, smiling all the way.

“You’re so adamant to believe that no one can love you. That you can love them, but they can’t love you. Why do you always feel that way? This-this sword sounds very nice and a good fit,” Liz lectured. Michael’s bottom lip popped out in a pout.

“Well, if that’s true, then I messed it up far too much. It means it’s over. So why do I care?” Michael asked.

“Maybe because you love him too.”

They were silent for a moment as he considered this possibility. It would make sense. He knew he felt strongly about Alex, but love felt foreign. He loved Maria, he loved his mother, he loved food, he loved sex. But he did guess he hadn’t really considered anyone outside of Maria could want him around for more than his status. On top of that, he tried his damnedest not to fall too hard for anyone who fell into his bed. Granted, Alex was…

“Okay, well, I can’t do anything. I’ve messed it up,” he insisted, bouncing on his toes.

“Will you stop it?” his tailor scolded. He gave her a small smile before looking back to Liz.

“Look, Mikey‒”

“Stop calling me‒”

“Mikey, you just need to apologize,” Liz said firmly. His nose scrunched up at the thought. The whole fun part about becoming king was that you didn’t have to apologize. “Okay, you’re definitely not going to get your sword back with that attitude.”

Michael groaned, “I want him back, but I don’t know how to apologize.” Liz rolled his eyes, waving him off.

“Just go up to him and say that you’re sorry for accusing him of lying and that you would like your sword back,” Liz explained. A whine formed in the back of his throat at the idea. However, not having Alex with him was proving to be so much worse.

He could sacrifice a little pride for him.

-

Live music was playing, bodies were bustling, everyone looked great, and Alex was guarding the door.

“Can I have this dance, My King?” Maria asked, holding out her hand and stealing Michael’s attention from Alex. He smiled as he accepted the offer. “I heard Liz gave you some advice on your relationship with the High General.”

“She did, yes. She told me to apologize,” Michael told her. She did her best to hide the amusement she felt towards his hatred of the word, but it shone through. “I’m glad you all think it’s so funny.”

“You having to apologize isn’t funny. Your attitude about apologizing is what’s funny. Just do it. What’s the worst that can happen?” Maria asked. He pursed his lips, looking over to Alex who was still standing all stoically. He still looked gorgeous.

“He rejects me and I have to navigate the rest of my life around avoiding him,” Micahel answered. Maria snorted.

“Perhaps. But if it does work, then you have a guy who puts up with you and that’s a blessing,” she teased. And she had a point. Michael wasn’t stupid, he knew he was a lot. Alex seemed to take it in stride if he wasn’t making fun of him. Then, when he was making fun, it felt good. He wasn’t scared of him. “When do you plan on apologizing?”

“The moment I work up the courage,” he admitted. Maria scoffed and immediately stopped dancing.

“Go over there right now!” she insisted. His eyes went wide.

“I can’t just disappear, we have tons of company,” he pointed out and it really was a good excuse. Or, it would’ve been if he had known Maria a little less.

“I’ll cover for you. As long as you’re back within thirty minutes, no one should notice. Go, fix it.”

“But‒”

“No buts! Liz didn’t come down here to listen to your boy problems only for you not to listen, so go.”

Michael reluctantly listened, making his way to the man who had laughed in his face whenever he’d brought up his concerns. Maybe they were laughable, but Michael had dealt with too many people who had used him to feel trustworthy of a man who seemed to be reading from the same script.

However, he couldn’t help but remember being told that he was loved. And that Liz had rudely made him realize that he loved him too.

“High General,” Michael called when he got close. Alex allowed a fraction of a second to look confused before he went back to being serious. “May I speak with you alone?”

“With all due respect, Your Majesty, I’m guarding your event,” Alex responded, looking straight past him and not at him. Michael took a long breath. It would be so easy to walk away, to let this just be it.

But, damn it, he needed to apologize if he wanted anything.

And he wanted Alex.

“Could someone take your post? It’s important,” Michael said, pushing away his nerves. Alex looked him over before nodding and calling for another man to take his place. As they walked to find an empty space, Michael wondered if he would get to touch Alex again. It’d been two weeks and he longed to feel him once more.

Eventually, they found an empty room and Alex looked annoyed once again.

“Do you need to accuse me of trying to overthrow your wife again?” he sighed. He’d clearly moved past finding it funny and onto finding it offensive. Michael fiddled with the fabric of his cloak, trying to find the right words. “Well?’

“I think I love you,” he blurted, followed quickly by an, “I’m sorry.” Michael knew he’d fucked up the order‒or any semblance of courtesy‒but he just his words sit in the air as his face got hot.

“What are you sorry about?” Alex asked, still seeming skeptical but a lot less annoyed.

“I’m sorry I accused you of ill intentions. Everyone I’ve been with has used me and I suppose you were just too good to be true,” Michael explained. Alex nodded slowly, taking a step closer. Michael tried not to get too excited about that.

“I’m a soldier who is scarred head to toe and missing a limb with bad communication skills. That’s too good to be true?” Alex clarified, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re beautiful and strong and kind. You’re loyal to your country and loyal to me. You make me feel things I don’t understand and perhaps I got frightened by it. I was letting myself get too close, so I started seeing your honesty as betrayal,” Michael said. Alex took another step closer.

“And you think you love me for it?”

“I think,” he started before quickly stopping himself and shaking his head, “No, I know that I love you. I would like to go back to the way we were if that’s still an option.”

Alex grabbed the front of his dress, pulling him closer. Michael could feel his eyes grow wide. He wasn’t sure what was going to happen, but he liked being this close. He really wanted to be this close a lot.

“Are you going to accuse me again, Michael?”

“Not unless you give me a valid reason.”

“Good.”

In a few seconds, Michael had Alex’s lips on his. It was amazing. Their time apart had only made him so eager to feel close to him again and truthfully, it was better than he remembered. Maybe the trust aspect helped. He didn’t know, he just knew he never wanted to stop.

“We need to get back,” Alex whispered, pulling away and leaving him wanting more.

“No.”

“Yes,” he laughed. Michael sighed and stole one last kiss before agreeing to reenter society. They had time. “I missed you, My King,” Alex added as they stepped back into the hall.

Michael let out a happy little sigh as he looked over to him. He had high hopes for a future of happiness if Alex was involved. Maybe the girls had a point. Apologizing wasn't so bad whenever it had a good outcome. No more not trusting. Everything was about trusting Alex.

Everything was Alex.

“I missed you more.”

[askovertherainbowblog]

Do you ever feel like your government is actively working to institute a theocracy right under your very nose, and all anyone can seem to do is tweet? (I’m not knocking the art of the well-placed tweet, by the way. Case and point the account pictured above.)

Here’s what’s going on in my part of the world, which is Alberta (Commonly known as the bible belt of Canada):

The recently elected UCP (United Conservative Party #UnderHisEye) has, by its inaction, effectively canceled a work group dedicated to eradicating the insidious and abusive practice of “reparative” therapy for LGBT+ persons. Minister of Health Tyler Shandro has claimed on twitter that he told the group they were welcome to continue meeting. However, according to Emma Graney of the Edmonton Journal, his office released a statement that “The working group has disbanded with the change in govt.” AKA, they’re pretending the group (which included a survivor of conversion therapy) doesn’t merit focus because conversion therapy/torture “doesn’t happen here.”

If you dig a little deeper, you’ll see this simply isn’t true. Of course, nobody is coming right out and calling their services conversion therapy. That would be bad PR. The practice is couched in the language of soul-searching, healing trauma, and respecting individual faith. Alberta survivor Kevin Schultz was undergoing private faith-based counseling to realign his sexual orientation as late as 2007. Journey Canada, formerly Living Waters, which claims to help folks “experience Jesus in their sexuality” (kinky?) still operates across Canada.

If anyone is in doubt, the Human Rights Campaign and the Canadian Psychology Association can shed light on why conversion therapy/counseling of any kind is deeply damaging and can even be life-threatening.

The previous NDP government at least gave the appearance of caring about the LGBT community. The UCP gives the appearance of wanting to give the appearance of caring. In any case, I kind of wonder, why not just oh I don’t know BAN CONVERSION THERAPY AS IF WE WERE A CIVILIZED 21ST CENTURY SOCIETY? The UCP certainly hasn’t shied away from taking bold action on controversial issues (eg. lowering minimum wage for minors like a bunch of literal cartoon Scrooge McDucks).

This conversion therapy fustercluck is one move in an alarmingly swift series of policy change plans the UCP has begun rolling out since April of this year. They have also pledged to remove key protections afforded to GSA’s (Gay-Straight Alliances, common “safe space” organizations for LGBT students found in secondary schools). This means teachers could, at their own discretion, be permitted to notify parents if their child joins a GSA. This would obviously defeat the whole purpose of GSA’s and put children at greater risk of abuse at home.

When urged to consult experts on why this was such a monumental mistake, and questioned about the purpose of his party’s decision, premier Kenney had this to say:

"I think it would be very rare [for parents to be notified]," Kenney said. "Probably only [when] dealing with very young kids or kids with unique emotional and mental health challenges."

AKA, he has no idea what the repercussions could be and is speaking in “likelihoods” like some kind of fiendish gremlin under a bridge, desperate to grant you three wishes whose loopholes will ruin your life. (PS: Back in 2006 Kenney bragged about working to repeal a spousal law that allowed gay men to visit their dying partners in the hospital during the AIDS crisis. So that’s the attitude we’re dealing with here.)

If you’re curious about what other draconian policies the UCP has lurking just around the corner you can read up on their full platform, which includes such gems as scrapping the carbon tax, pausing the K-12 curriculum review, pushing for more private health care options, and something ominously called the “climate war room.”

If you, like me, are having some serious Handmaid’s Tale flashbacks right now, you’re not being overdramatic. The erosion of minority and women’s rights at the hands of backsliding democracies worldwide is not some fad. It’s a real thing that is happening all around us while shiny apps are being pelted at us as a distraction.

So let’s move on to what can actually be done. Before I list some ideas, I want to cover a few key points. We’re often advised, as constituents of a district or riding, to take action by writing to our political representatives! Here’s why I think that’s a waste of time: the current political climate is extremely polarized. It’s a buzzword because it’s true. If your MLA is conservative, and you write them a letter urging them to see things your bleeding-heart liberal way... well, why would they care? You’re not even a part of the voter base they’re targeting, and they know it. They don’t need your support. Alberta voters skew overwhelmingly right-wing already.

My advice is to follow the money.

A PAC (Political Action Committee) is an organization that pools campaign contributions from members and donates them to campaigns for or against candidates or legislation. Shaping Alberta’s Future is a PAC whose stated aim is to promote a conservative Alberta with Kenney at the helm. In 2018, they raised a whopping $170,000 in two weeks to fund UCP ads. Their financial disclosure documents are pretty lengthy and can be confusing if you don’t know what you’re looking for. That’s why I’ve broken down the info into a list of the major 5-figure contributors, all (you’ll be bowled over with shock to learn) men, most of them members of the Motor Dealership of Alberta for some reason.

For those of us who live in Alberta/Canada, that means we can do the following:

HERE is a link to a form letter addressing major donors to Shaping Alberta’s Future, politely urging them to bring matters of LGBT youth safety to the government’s attention.

HERE is a link to a list of specific donors, their contact information, and contribution amounts. This info can be filled into the indicated sections on the above letter.

Simply print, sign, and mail the letters to the addresses provided. Postage should be fairly inexpensive but if it’s an issue, take a photo of your signed letter and Canada Post receipt and I’ll etransfer you the value of your postage (within reason, guys!). If you can’t access Google drive, I’ll copy the letter to you by whatever method you prefer.

If you’d like to add information to the above list, or offer a correction, please message us or email askovertherainbowblog@gmail.com.

Additional things you can do (from anywhere):

Spreading the word always helps. Set up an email list or reddit thread. If you’re Albertan, print ten extra letters and ask a few friends to sign them. Pride month is just around the corner: bring a sheaf of letters with you to a parade and throw them in the air like confetti. (You’ll probably get some free condoms for your trouble; nice!)

Donations are not possible for everyone but if they’re possible for you, Youthsafe.net has a list of organizations that could use your support.

Stay vigilant. Read full articles covering both sides of the issues you’re investigating, and investigate in turn the veracity of your sources. Read posts from people you don’t agree with and, as infuriating as it is to have your person-hood invalidated by pseudo-scientific doctrine, pause to digest other points of view before formulating a vitriolic response. I’m not advising moderation (fuck moderation) but I am advising strategy.

Pursue local involvement. It’s tough to sit in front of a news cast in rural Canada and watch women in Alabama have their reproductive rights stripped from them, knowing a small donation to the ACLU is probably the most you can do short of upending your life to go on a march, and that won’t even move the needle much. But everyone, everywhere where voting happens, can march into a town hall and make their voice heard when it comes to the bullshit in their own community. The people around you want to get involved; they’re just not sure how to do it. Give them a means and they’ll stand beside you!

xoxo