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bunny-jpeg · 5 months ago

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shut up and put your money where your mouth is

max verstappen

tags: smut/pwp, driver!reader, rivals au, bickering/fighting, married in vegas, drinking, doggy style, rough sex, dirty talk, hangovers, 2.5k words

a/n: happy las vegas gp everyone!

wheel to wheel. toe to toe. cheek to cheek.

this was the dance you did with the three time world champion. the rivalry that put mclaren and red bull up against one another. and in the lead up to the las vegas grand prix, it was you and max's world and everyone else was just living in it.

"you should smile more." he said at the bar in one of the casinos on the strip. he pinched your cheek and you wanted to bite him.

you replied shortly, "i'll smile when you give me something to smile about. don't think i forgot the last race." you were barely edging max in points with the season wrapping up.

he just smiled, "i know you'll be smiling when i bring it all home in a few weeks. don't you worry." then pinched your cheek once more.

damn max verstappen.

the rivarly started years ago. max was the youngest rookie and you were a few months older than him. along with being the first female in far too long. the hype around your arrivals to the sport caused you two to step on each other's toes. both of you felt an overbearing responsibility to be the best. your father breathed down your neck on the track just as much as max's did down his.

and even after years in the game, you were both painfully in each other's orbit. so much so that your dear teammate oscar once said, "i'm pretty sure if you two weren't in formula one you'd be married by now!"

you replied with a laugh, "oh please, i'd never! not in a million years." but last vegas was the city of opportunity, and before an exciting weekend you went out for a few drinks with your rival. and as much as the city has opportunity, it was still sin city.

enough gin and tonics for max to feel a little more relaxed. and enough cranberry-vodkas to leave you feeling warm all over. what sent you over the edge with him was his flushed face and him undoing the first few buttons of his shirt. your eyes raked over his almost exposed collarbones and you shifted in your seat.

you swallowed and took another hearty drink, which only fueled a sexual fire in your belly. you felt something hot run through you at the sight of him. you looked away to try and not think too hard about it. you played with the gold chain around your neck.

max leaned forward and narrowed his eyes at your neck, "did i buy that for you?" he put his arms on the table and his expression was drunken as he said, "wearing what i bought you?" he laughed, "if i know you'd wear it. i would've bought you a ring."

you felt heat rise in your cheeks more, "i think people would get the wrong idea. we're supposed to hate each other. the headlines would be insane, max verstappen buys ring for his rival."

he chuckled, "well, you are my favourite." he swallowed and darted his gaze quickly, "my favourite rival." then took another hearty sip of his drink.

you licked your lips, "just a rival?" you asked softly. the liquor emboldened you and you let go of your necklace. in a moment of weakness you reached for his hand and asked, "not even friends?"

max swallowed, "not friends."

you felt ice wash through your core at his words. a tightness in your chest prevented any words from coming out.

max realized in his drunken haze that he only said half of the sentence. when you pulled your hand away, he was desperate to grab it back. shock crossed his expression, "no, no! not like that!" liquid courage made him say the words, "not a friend. a lover."

the words tumbled out of your mouth, "verstappen... i'm saying this on the most certain terms... take me. fuck me. do whatever you want to me." you swallowed.

you held the trophy over your head. you beamed with pride after your country's national anthem. you did it, you won the first race of many. as max then sprayed you with champagne, there was a single thing on his mind.

you'd be his one day.

you made it to the elevator with max in tow. you were headed to his room. you held his shoulders who he held you to kiss you deeply.

"as good at kissing as you are at racing." you giggled.

"oh, are you giving me a compliment? never heard that before." he smiled at you. he had you by the waist.

"don't get used to it. if you don't make me cum, then i'll never let you live it down." you held his face for a moment, "i will tell everyone that the great max verstappen can't make a woman cum."

he pressed you further against the wall of the elevator, "oh don't worry, i'll make you feel good."

the elevator dinged and you both stumbled out of it. max trapped you against the door while he loomed over you and tried to open it. it was hard to kiss your heated skin and open a door at the same time. on top of being drunk.

"focus on one thing." you groaned.

"if i do then i'll be fucking you in the hallway. and wouldn't that be the scandal of the season." his words struck something in you and when the door was opened, you were pushed inside.

when you caught your footing, you got your heels off. max wrapped his arms around your waist and picked you up. while you weren't stick thing (couldn't be in formula one, not with all that force), but max was simply stronger. he got you both over to the bedroom before he cornered you. you squirmed and he said, "stop moving or i'll drop you." and soon got you onto the king sized hotel bed.

he undid al the bottoms of the shirt and got his belt off as well, he stripped those from himself along with his slacks. in just an undershirt and his briefs in the end, he got onto the bed with you. the dress would've been torn off of you if you weren't fast enough. max groaned when he shoved his face between your soon bare breasts.

"just like i imagined." he groaned. his hands were at the waistband of your panties, "fuck. i need more." and while he got your panties off, you got your bra off.

"you really are excited." you shuddered as your hand up under his shirt. his shoulders were framed by the straps of the undershirt. he looked a little more domineering, which only raised the heat in your body.

"how could i not be? look at you!" he purred before he got the white undershirt off along with his dark briefs.

both of you were naked and tumbled fully onto the bed together. you kissed him once more until you ended up on your stomach with your face in the pillows. max admired your strong back. being a driver meant exhibiting a strength which you presented in spades. strong in so many ways, which was an aspect that pulled max in.

enamored was a term he could use. but that implied it was casual, but max's feelings were far from casual. you were next to the blood in his veins. the spark in his life, the heat in his soul.

he lined his cock up against your soaked cunt. he felt drawn to you, like a siren's call. he couldn't help it, he had been needing this for a long, long time. he sank into you and you felt the excitement of pleasure rush through you as you laid out in the bed.

"at least a decade in the making." he groaned, "ten years, ten years i've been wanting you." he felt a moan leave his lips. two drunks fucking in an expensive hotel room. two multi-million dollar drivers rutted together with a hot passion between you two.

"fuck, don't make me feel old." you buried your face further into the covers and arched your back further. pleasure bloomed through you. you could never truly hate max. it wasn't in you.

max leaned in to kiss you on the centre of your back as he moved against you. his hot breath against you warm back, he felt the thrill of pleasure as he worked you slick cunt. your pussy felt like a dream, while drunk, you still felt perfect. you let out a soft moan as he moved.

"fuck."

"please, max."

"i know."

you were near certain that this was what the entire grid was hoping for. you knew that people shipped you two together. you see the edits, the reddit threads, the fan art, the fan fiction. and you knew the paddock talked.

you gripped the soft pillow under your face and you whined a little bit. the wooden headboard rocked against the white wall of the bedroom. you hoped that checo's room wasn't on the other side. you'd never hear the end of it.

max wrapped his strong arms around your middle and continued to fuck you. he moved against you. his cock bullied against your g-spot and you were left breathless. you wanted him, you wanted him in ways you never thought you'd ever admit.

max lit a fire in you. to push yourself harder an further, you were only as strong as your ability to match max. and your rival made you the best. you clutched onto the pillow and felt a stagger in your heart. your mind was filled with pleasure, but also the liquor. in some way, vodka only made things feel more intense.

you felt it race through your body as the two of you fucked on the soft bed. the slogan from vegas was true, anyone could get lucky here. and you got rather lucky with max.

he held onto you tighter, his strong arm around your middle as he rutted against you. it was a protective feeling to you and you loved the feeling. you guessed that he was a protective force in your life, no one bothered you with max around.

you hissed into the pillow and you felt the surge of intense want. this was a feeling you wanted to feel again, again, and again. you held on tightly and the immense heat just dragged you into the depths of pleasure.

"please, max. i want you. fuck, i didn't know i could want a rival so badly. you're as much in my soul as the engine of my car. ever since we met, i knew you'd be a force in my life. i need you more than i need anyone else. fuck." you rambled, muffled by the covers, and max loved it.

you were always delicate with your words and to hear profanity leave your lips so freely made max run hotter. the way you spoke as you lost all rationality in your head.

he had an effect on you, even on the grid and you wanted to kill him. you never did, not when he looked at you with those beautiful blue eyes. he was your weakness, hence why you were rivals. the pleasure continued to mount, the feeling was electric. it made you hold on tightly, your back arched as he worked your body. you felt on cloud nine, not a care in the world. the want rolled through you and you moaned his name out loud once more.

"fuck, max!" you came around his cock with your nails dug into the pillow. he pressed himself up against your back and continued to fuck you with a feverish face.

the bed creaked under the both of you and the over stimulation made your head swim. you felt the heavy rush and he only kept moving against you. sweaty chest up against your sweaty back. thrusting against you, the pleasure built up in his brain.

the pleasure reached its peak and max slammed his cock as deep into you. he tried to get as deep as he could get and it made you climax once more. he rode out his orgasm, and soon he slowed to a stop. he felt racing in his chest. he wiped sweat from his forehead then kissed your back.

"max."

he pulled out and laid out next to you. he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close to his chest. he peppered your face with sloppy kisses and you melted at his tender touch. even with his caring touch, his words caught you off guard, "fuck, let's get married."

and as you got lost in his eyes, you nodded, "sure."

the sun come morning burned and you turned over to look away from the window. you cracked open your eyes and the hangover weighed on you like a heavy blanket. you were met face to face with max, who was asleep beside you.

your eyes went wide and you pulled away from him. your chest tightened as you pulled the sheets closer to your chest. your heart leapt and you swallowed. when you looked down at your shaky hands, you saw a ring at your left hand. a shocked noise left your lips at the sight of it.

the ring was a gold band with a small diamond. you swallowed, there was no doubt what it was. you got very drunk and you got married. a nagging feeling of who you married was soon answered when you saw max shift and he had a matching gold band on his ring finger.

this was only confirmed when you opened instagram. and the post you were greeted with was of your hastily put together wedding. you looked happy as you kissed him. it felt like the rest of the platform was in a tizzy over this sudden wedding.

a sports reporting outlet had the caption, "mclaren's princess has tamed the bull!!" with a photo of you at the alter, your lips against max's. the next post read, "verstappen ties the knot with long time rival before the las vegas grand prix." you stomach sank and the reality was a cold splash of water.

post after post, reactions from what felt like everyone. you only came back to focus when you felt max's arm drape around your waist.

"max, we're in trouble..." you swallowed.

he slowly opened his eyes. he held onto you tightly for a moment before he kissed at your side. his expression was dreamy, still asleep as he let go of you. his expression changed suddenly when he noticed the ring on his finger. his eyes went wide before he took your hand and saw your ring.

"oh..."

"max, say something." you tried again, your voice tight. you felt the immense anxiety through you. what would the fia say? what would the press say? what would every other goddamn driver say?

it was bad enough people speculated for years about you two, but to have it come to reality was terrifying. but max didn't seem as scared as you.

he looked at you, only to shift closer. he kissed your side once more then said, "well, good morning then, mrs. verstappen." <3

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xclowniex · 4 months ago

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It's actually honestly disgusting some of the responses I've seen around the LA fires.

Firstly - the whole eat the rich "I have no empathy as it's mainly rich people" shit is sickening.

The majority of people in LA are not the elite. Yes, a lot of rich people are affected, but these rich people aren't the elite that eat the rich is about. Most of these rich people pre fire are closer to homelessness than the elite.

Also the homes of people who aren't rich have been destroyed too. So many homes of middle class to lower class people have been burnt down.

California's first middle class black suburb is being burnt down.

Some of the reason as to why I think this rhetoric is spread around so much is a mixture of the general false perception that LA is a rich person city (its not) and the media making so many stories about different rich celebrities who have evacuated and homes have burnt down.

Also, yes, even those who are rich but not elite could rebuild a lot quicker than those who aren't but yall are also forgetting that it's not just the homes which are being destroyed with everything inside intact. Everything is burnt when a house is destroyed. Sentimental items are being destroyed by the fire.

Secondly - the different conspiracy theories are sickening.

I've already made a post debunking the one that Israel caused the fire through ecocide. And today I saw another one that it's all a ploy to prevent more names connected to p Diddy from being released as his mansion burnt down.

This is not some rich elite ploy to prevent more names being released. California has had bad wildfires for YEARS.

May I also remind everyone that the whole "elite group of people pulling strings to destroy shit to control the world" literally stems from the antisemitic conspiracy theory that jews control the world. Idc that people have replaced jews with people connected to Diddy, you're still using something which was popularized to oppress jews.

Another conspiracy theory I saw today was that the reason the fires haven't been contained is because firefighters donated equipment to Ukraine.

Like ah yes, the miniscule amount of equipment that fire stations have not yet replaced (as they replaced a lot) is totally the reason for the fires being so bad and not because of climate change (sarcasm).

A lot of yall harp on about needing to do more for the environment, yet when an event proving climate change is at an all time worse, you decide to ignore that it's climate change which caused it and that it's actually in fact a bunch of conspiracy theories.

You all need to buy the below and get a fucking grip on reality

#la fires #palisades fire #i would tag all the fires but i cant remember all their names #antisemitism #ukraine #eat the rich

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stormsthatrage · 1 year ago

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Have a Bleach extended-winter-war time-travel-fix-it idea. In this AU Kaien's death happened before the whole turn-back-the-pendulum arc. (Yes, another Bleach time-travel AU, I know, shut up.)

As Ichigo and Kisuke are planning to go back to the past, Kisuke makes sure to emphasize to Ichigo that they have to protect Shiba Kaien. Apparently, it's of the utmost importance.

Ichigo doesn't know exactly how Kaien's continued well-being plays into saving the future. Kisuke never really explains it, or gives him a straight answer when he asks. But Ichigo knows that the Shiba Clan-Head carried a great deal of political power, and Ichigo also knows that Kaien -- according to Kukaku and Rukia -- was highly competent, incredibly noble, and fundamentally kind. It's not exactly unintuitive that a person like that could be important to bringing down Aizen.

So Ichigo listens, when Kisuke tells him to protect Shiba Kaien. He memorizes how Kaien died in the original timeline. He's attentive as Kisuke reiterates for the thousandth time that Aizen will keep trying to assassinate Kaien until he succeeds. He takes notes when Kisuke hypothesizes about what Aizen's various assassination attempts might look like -- poison during a meal, hired assassins at night, an ambush during a mission.

Ichigo ingrains the assignment into his core: protect Shiba Kaien, because if Kaien falls, the mission fails.

So when Kisuke slips a paralytic into Ichigo's tea and places Ichigo in the middle of the time-travel kido array and drains the entirety of his own spiritual energy to activate the array, a sacrifice that Ichigo never would have agreed to--

Well. The first thing Ichigo does when he arrives back in the past, numb and alone and only able to function by focusing on the duty that is his purpose -- is track down Shiba Kaien.

After all, if Ichigo is going to kill Aizen -- and he is, no matter what it takes -- he needs to keep Kaien alive.

Ichigo goes straight to the Shiba family grounds. In true Shiba fashion, they accept him immediately as family. They tend to his wounds and give him a meal and welcome him home. They let him get away with his weak excuses and explanations, and they defend his presence to the rest of Soul Society.

Kaien, in accordance with everything Ichigo has heard about the man, personally takes the newest addition to the family under his wing.

Ichigo's plans to deal with Aizen take shape around his need to keep an eye on Kaien.

Ichigo, instead of running as far and fast as he can from the Shiba clan, accepts the offer to live in the Shiba compound. He gets to know every clan member and retainer, subtly vetting for traitors. He sleeps in a room near Kaien's, allowing him to both guard against assassins at night and place warding runes around Kaien's door without having to worry about being caught somewhere he has no business being.

He joins the Court Guard in the 13th division instead of the 5th, because the only real way to protect Kaien on a mission is to be there with him. Ichigo knows that if there's an ambush, or if the mission details have been tampered with, he'll be more than enough fire power to get Kaien out of it. And it's easy to always get paired with Kaien; Kaien -- reliably taking every opportunity to hover around Ichigo that he's offered -- does most of the work, leveraging his status as lieutenant and Ichigo's combat ability to keep them together.

Ichigo finds himself frequently taking meals with Kaien and Kaien's friends. Kaien always invites Ichigo, and Ichigo accepts so he can subtly check the food for poison.

(Ichigo does not tell Kaien about Aizen. Ichigo is still unsure what Kaien's role is in the whole fight, and in the meantime, telling him about Aizen is a sure way to get him killed.)

Things heat up. Ichigo prevents both Miyako and Kaien's death, killing Metastacia before it can hurt anyone. Ichigo's shadow war against Aizen gets more intense. Ichigo sneaks out regularly to dismantle Aizen's illusions, destroy his labs, and attack his network of power, slowly weakening him.

Ichigo waits for the assassination attempts against Kaien, but they don't come, even several weeks after Metastacia fails. Ichigo takes it as a sign that he's got Aizen distracted.

Things continue for a while. Ichigo falls into a strange routine.

(And Ichigo tries not to break, seeing so many of his loved ones alive and unknowing of him. It is agony, to be around Shunsui, who is not his mentor, and the Visored, who are neither visored nor pack.

But the worst is when Captains Urahara and Shihouin catch on to his war against Aizen. He finds himself working with them as allies.

Allies. Mere allies, instead of --

Well. Not that it matters anymore.

All that matters is his duty.)

Time passes. Aizen weakens. There are no attempts on Kaien's life yet.

And then Aizen's web has unraveled enough for Ichigo to attack.

It's a long battle. It's a bloody battle. It's a very public battle.

Ichigo wins.

And it's only after it's all over -- after Aizen's crimes are revealed and Soul Society is at peace and the future is saved; after Ichigo finds himself still alive and adrift, with nothing left obligating him to keep going and everything telling him to give up; as Kaien refuses to leave Ichigo alone and escorts him to regular appointments with Unohana and forces him to talk about the truth of his past --

It's only then that it clicks.

Ichigo is whispering secrets about the future into Kaien's chest, Kaien's arms wrapped tight around him, when Ichigo confesses that he messed up, that he put the Shiba clan in unnecessary danger. Ichigo tells Kaien about his death in the original timeline. He talks about how Kisuke told him that in this timeline, Aizen would try and kill Kaien again if the first attempt failed. Ichigo promises desperately that he never would have sought out the family -- would have kept the danger far, far away from them -- if he hadn't thought he had to watch Kaien's movements so closely.

And Ichigo admits that Aizen never actually tried again. Ichigo admits that he and Kisuke miscalculated, that Ichigo brought danger to the Shiba's doorstep for nothing.

It happens like this:

First, the words leave his lips, "Kisuke" and "miscalculated" in the same sentence. Hearing himself say it lays bare the absurdity of its premise.

Then, Kaien draws away slightly, to look Ichigo in the eyes. Ichigo sees, plain on Kaien's face, a terrible, damning gratefulness.

Then, Kaien says -- fierce and defiant in the face of what could have been -- "I am so glad you came home."

And it clicks. At last, Kisuke's final manipulation reveals itself to Ichigo's eyes.

The emotions flash through him: the sting of betrayal; a flavor of love that bursts across his tastebuds as hurt; a familiar brand of exasperation that, a split second later, has his knees giving out under the weight of old pain made fresh.

Kaien catches Ichigo before he hits the ground and holds him as he shatters. And Ichigo can barely breathe through the knowledge that Kisuke would have been so smug to see them.

A sob rips itself from Ichigo's chest, and it's followed by another, and another.

Ichigo's older cousin holds him, in the home of their family, through it all.

_________

THE END except not really.

This must immediately be followed by a whole arc where Kaien, much to his own dismay, finds himself trying to hook Urahara up with his little cousin.

After all, Future-Urahara sent Ichigo to the Shiba clan. Future-Urahara tricked his little cousin into bypassing his own self-destructive tendencies to seek out family and love and support. Clearly, Urahara would actually be good for Ichigo.

And, you know, Ichigo clearly loves Younger-Urahara, judging by Ichigo's whole... well, everything, whenever the two interact.

(This whole matchmaking endeavor is made easier by the fact that 1) Kisuke is already infatuated, fascinated, and not a tiny-bit madly in love, and 2) Yoruichi is also, from the other end, trying to set Kisuke up with Ichigo.

This whole endeavor is made more difficult by the fact that 1) Ichigo is in denial that he loves this younger Kisuke since he never thought this younger Kisuke could also fall in love with him, 2) Kisuke is in denial that he loves Ichigo because that is a Shiba and he himself is a creepy low-born ex-assassin mad-scientist, and 3) neither Ichigo nor Kisuke know what it looks like when someone is interested in them.)

Poor Kaien. He succeeds eventually, but not before witnessing truly legendary social ineptitude.

#bleach #bleach au #time travel bleach style #time travel #kurosaki ichigo #urahara kisuke #shiba kaien #uraichi #can someone please explain to me why this CONCEPT/IDEA is over 1.4k words #please #help...#also if any sentences or concepts don't make sense or if there are typos feel free to say so in a note or something #i did this in a very short amount of time and am too done with it to actually properly proof-read #Lies to Send You Home AU

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phoenixyfriend · 2 months ago

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I wrote another email to colourpop. (Explanation of the situation as of about a week ago)

Feel free to change a few things up and send one yourself:

Hello again.

This is my third time emailing about this, though I endeavor to remain professional and polite. You never did respond to my first email, and your response to my second on the topic was very rote, even canned. I'm hoping to get something more this time.

By this point, I'm sure you've heard more than enough on the morality and ethics that are at play here. After all, people have been asking you to address it for a year. Even with the announcement of the first collection, there were people telling you that you needed to make a statement, that you needed to at least ACKNOWLEDGE something they were concerned about. You have continuously refused to do so.

We are asking for you to donate a portion of the proceeds from the New Moon collection to the Quileute Move to Higher Ground fund, and if you can't, to tell us WHY. You have ignored endless numbers of comments over the past year on multiple platforms, and have recently even been deleting comments (polite ones, I saw) and shadow-blocking people on Instagram. Maybe it was a slip of the finger. Maybe it was Instagram's automoderator. Either way, it's not a good look.

There are five options I see:

You are planning to donate, and are currently working behind the scenes to put together a plan due to the continued support for the fundraiser. This is my favorite option. (Perhaps you already HAVE contributed somehow, and were keeping it a surprise. If that's the case, it's not an amazing plan, because I'd like to buy the collection NOW, and not when products have started going out of stock.)

You contacted mthg with an offer to donate, but they refused, not wanting any Twilight money. I find this unlikely, but I could respect it. I'd still ask that you make a statement, because if you DID, it would mean I could actually buy the collection.

You cannot afford it for some reason. I think this is unlikely as well, given that you have reported yearly sales in the eight figures, but I'll admit that it's possible the LA fires have had a major impact on your supply lines, or you're expanding the factory and have new mortgage payments. Sad, and I wouldn't buy the collection, but it would be nice to know so I could stop putting hours of my week into trying to get you to understand.

Your contract with Stephenie Meyer in particular, and the Twilight franchise more generally, prevents you from speaking publicly on this topic. It could be that you are legally unable to mention the Quileute people, as it could draw unfavorable attention to the Twilight brand. I'd consider it a bad look that you even signed the contract, then, much like with the Harry Potter collection (which sends money into transphobic lobbying), but it would at least make sense, you know? Maybe you could work around it, donating to a more general native charity, or working with an indigenous creator, to make up for the mistake you are now contributing to without breaking your contract.

Greed. You are earning money, and if you don't talk about it where people can see, then the people who don't care won't LEARN about the conflict, and the people who DO care won't have made so much noise that you had to give some of your cash away. I dislike this.

We want to know which of the five it is.

The last few weeks, you've spent a lot of time advertising your Pretty Fresh Tinted Foundation Balm. It's a good product, with a wide and flexible shade range. People have responded positively, and you clearly care about inclusivity… but doesn't that include native peoples? Does that not include the people whose culture you are using as advertising? The New Moon collection rests so heavily on Quileute characters, on individuals built to be of a culture that was used for years by Stephenie and never saw compensation despite being a cornerstone of the franchise. You are using them for marketing, also without compensation, and it spits in the face of the diversity you want to claim you champion.

In a political situation such as this, in a country where things like "DEI" are being disassembled in the name of fascism, a place where your own record on such things is shaky, why make things WORSE for marginalized groups? Why make things harder for people who are already struggling? You have the power to help in a profound way, and you aren't.

I am… very frustrated, at this point. Can we please just know why? Can we please just be TOLD what it is that you're doing, and why? Reasons one through five are up there, just tell me which one it is, because I am tired.

Just not tired enough to stop campaigning for a cause I truly believe in.

Thank you for your time.

#Colourpop #twilight #new moon #Phoenix Posts #Phoenix Politics #Quileute #move to higher ground #Quileute Move to Higher Ground #twilight new moon #Heyyyyyyyyy it's time to cyberbully a multimillion dollar makeup brand again!

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phyx-m · 3 months ago

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Beneath The Silk | True form Sukuna x Reader

🔗 Masterlist

Chapter 35: Goodbye, Little Red Flower

Content warning: Violence, gore, blood, dismemberment, Sukuna POV at the end.

🔗 Songs for this chapter:

The Breaking Of The Shell - Hunter As a Horse Doom - Alex Terrible

Chapter 34 | Chapter 36

The light tap on your bare shoulder almost pulls you from the haze of sleep.

Almost.

But you’re too comfortable to move. Too tired. Caught somewhere between peace and exhaustion with barely any thoughts. You drift, resting on whatever softness you lie on. It feels nice. And smells faintly of a warm, crackling fire and a deeper undertone, like marrow buried in the earth. Dense. Grounding.

Another tap, firmer this time, yet still gentle.

“Psst.”

A voice.

“It’s time to wake up.”

When your eyes drift open, you blink and are greeted by the sight of Sukuna’s messy sheets, a ridiculous mountain of pillows, and your form poured out across his futon, flat on your stomach.

Disoriented, you blink again, pushing yourself up slowly. Turning to sit, you face the room, aching in every muscle, body and energy spent. It feels like you could sleep for ages, especially here, wrapped in the decadence of this space.

A soft clearing of a throat breaks the quiet, and you glance left. Pale morning light filters through the garden doors, illuminating Ren standing beside the raised futon. She cradles a bowl of steaming liquid, her expression furrowed in thought.

“Morning,” she says, her voice polite, her head bowing slightly, but her eyes wander to the nearest wall, avoiding you.

You look down.

Oh.

Right.

You’re completely naked.

Muttering a few choice words, you grab the nearest thing—the massive blue quilt and swamp the fabric tightly around your body. It doesn’t take long for the memories of last night to resurface, and all you wish for is the heavy forgetfulness of sleep.

What do you remember?

Ceramics shattering. Sneaking into the King of Curses’ room in the middle of the night to stab him. All the truths that were finally hatched. Then, the forest battle. Your power. The fire arrow. The shouting. Screaming. Kissing. The sex—gods, the sex. Before, the quiet, whispering, “I should have stolen you sooner.” And finally, the monster letting you go, telling you to depart before sunrise, leaving you here, alone, covered in his…

You look down, cheeks burning with mortification as irritation prickles under your skin at the sticky sensation between your legs. There’s a lot. It’s everywhere.

He has two cocks, after all.

Taking a corner of the quilt, you scrub at your inner thighs, uncaring if you stain his sheets. If anything, you hope it leaves a mess—one small, final reminder that you were here. The act feels petty, but you reserve a corner in your mind that he deserves a whole lot more than this.

Let all his sleeps be ruined by crusty sheets.

Prick.

Peering back at Ren, your eyes flicker to the bowl cradled in her hands, which she seems to be directing toward you. The wafting steam smells of the earth, a grassy edge, maybe something sweet.

“What is that?”

Your prickly tone does little but draw her attention back to you. You level her with a stare. The sting of betrayal still crawls around in your mind, and looking at her directly does nothing to settle it.

“It’s a tea, my La—” Her words falter, lip tucking inward to stop herself.

You tug the quilt tighter, a protective shield.

So, the news has already spread throughout the shrine. This sham of a union is over. Eyebrows calmly arching, you wait for her to recover her voice.

“It’s a preventative,” she says, clearing her throat softly, “against anything... unwanted. Master Sukuna didn’t wish you to leave only to become pregnant.”

Her explanation barely registers before you take the bowl from her hands, careful to avoid brushing her skin—an intentional gesture after last night’s incident. No more shattered ceramics.

“How thoughtful of him,” you mumble, peering into the bowl’s murky contents and inhaling.

Despite the bitterness in your words, you know it’s true. Becoming pregnant would be foolish, and, as Ren said, unwanted. With no home, no clan, and no means of support, bringing a child into this life would be reckless.

“Is this what you and Sayuri would drink?”

You take a sip. Hints of over-brewed root and bark nips at your tongue.

“Not often.” Ren makes a humming sound in her chest. “If ever.” She moves across the room to pluck your ruined yukata that still sits as a rumpled pile on the floor. “Normally, he wouldn’t find completion inside us,” she adds, her voice calm, almost factual. “He would withdraw.”

“Oh.”

You avert your stare to the tea again. Taking a longer sip, then two more, you drain the rest in one long swallow. Wiping your mouth, you add, “I suppose I should feel honoured, right?” You tap the ceramic dish once with a finger before setting it down on the sheets.

Again, the bitterness in your words. They aren’t meant for Ren, but they come nonetheless.

Petty, petty.

She doesn’t respond, and standing at the end of the futon, she hesitates before dropping her chin.

“I don’t mean to be forward, but—” She smooths your discarded garment between her fingers, as if trying to rub out the stains. “You need to leave,” she continues. The new tension winding through her tone has you sitting straighter. “There’s a force advancing toward Master Sukuna’s domain.”

Your brow creases.

“An attack?” Feet finding their way to the floor, you stand with the quilt wrapped around you. “Similar to previous ones?”

Ren shakes her head softly.

“No.” She hands you your yukata, which you take with careful fingers. “Master Sukuna seems more concerned about this. Apparently, it’s much more organized—and from the capital.”

Your pulse makes a dip. Skips a beat or two.

What you had wondered about last night is coming to pass. Heian-kyō is moving to retaliate against Ryomen Sukuna. The course of events likely tracing to what you asked of him nights ago—the destruction of the Kasai clan…

Everyone. Dead.

Those were her words.

You let the quilt fall, and threading your arms through the sleeves of your yukata, you slip inside.

What would they do if they ever laid hands on Sukuna? Unlikely—but does it matter to you anymore?

Do I even care?

Pinching the front panels of the garment closed, you glance around for the sash—your binding from last night—but it’s nowhere to be found.

Before you can ask any further questions, the door slides open.

Uraume steps into the room. Their pink gaze flickers toward you briefly, but it doesn’t remain. Crossing to a chest resting in the corner, their pale hands move to pile several folded garments into their arms.

You stare at them. At the pink strip staining the back of their head.

I trusted you.

Ren shifts beside you, clearing her throat for what feels like the hundredth time.

“I’ll prepare some of your things for departur—”

“I trusted you.” Your voice is aimed at Uraume’s back, but your words are meant for both of them.

The pale-haired subordinate’s hands pause. It falls silent. Then they continue while a pained expression passes over Ren’s face. You bite the inside of your cheek.

“Did you all just sit around at the end of the day and laugh at me?” you add, teeth clicking shut. “Recount all the stupid things I must have done?”

With a thump, Uraume presses the chest closed. In the dim light, dust motes swirl, dance, and finally settle. They turn to you, head bowing deeply, taking you by surprise.

“I have nothing to say for myself,” they admit, tone sincere. “And whatever you believe, know this—our actions toward you were genuine.”

“Genuine?” Your laugh comes out humourless. “After lying to me this whole time?"

“Yes.”

They pause, then lift their head.

“But.” Their expression cools, and your gaze hardens. “Your intent was to harm Master Sukuna. My loyalty will always remain with him—just as yours has always belonged elsewhere.”

Loyalty?

You huff, frustration rolling around inside your chest.

“Of course my loyalty was elsewhere. I did this to protect my sister.”

Under Uraume’s white bangs, their eyes exchange a wordless glance with Ren before flitting back to you.

Of course, they also didn’t know this—none of them did. Hidden truths and lies are all that bind anyone here.

“It wasn’t something I chose for myself,” you continue. And yet—what choice did either of them have against the word of the King of Curses? Was there a choice at all?

For a moment, Uraume hesitates, as if there’s more they want to say. But they simply bow their head again.

“Be safe.”

Clutching the stack of garments, they turn, slip gracefully into the corridor and disappear.

You stand there quietly before Ren steps briskly toward the door.

“Please,” she murmurs. “It’s time to go.”

Lifting your chin, you follow her from Sukuna’s chambers, sparing one last glance at the mural—the fading seasons, the red bloom sprouting from the snow—before turning away.

Descending the corridor back to your room feels strange, yet familiar, like retracing steps through a place that no longer belongs to you. When you enter, Ren gives you space. You move quickly, taking only what you need for the journey. Everything else, and anything gifted, remains untouched.

Before changing into a dark, plain kimono and hakama, you wipe your body down as best you can with a piece of cloth, ridding yourself of Sukuna’s touch.

With your leather gloves on, you pause in the doorway. The shattered ceramics from last night have been cleaned, leaving no trace of the realizations they pulled forth. Sliding the door open, you turn left, following the long hallway toward the front entrance. You pass the central hall, passing attendants along the way. They move through the corridors with their heads drawn low, not acknowledging you.

And you wonder—had they known about your gift all along? Perhaps that’s why they kept their distance, treating you like a walking, breathing wound.

Or a sickness.

Pushing the massive front doors open, you step outside. The morning drips with light rain, drizzle clinging to the air as fog blankets the ground in a soupy veil.

Everything is grey—dull, grey, muted, lifeless.

No colour. No warmth.

You exhale.

The clipped tap of footsteps behind you draws your gaze back over your shoulder. Ren stands at the mouth of the corridor, her face unreadable.

“Take care of yourself,” you say with a nod. She bows, head lowered, never lifting it.

Forcing a tight smile, you descend the wet stone steps of the shrine. The sodden ground gives beneath your feet as you make your way to the stables. Inside, your gaze sweeps over the stalls, tracing the familiar shapes of Sukuna’s horses, one after another, all accounted for.

So, he’s still here.

You pull open the door where Ayana waits, but a dull thud draws your attention downward.

There in the hay, your sheathed tantō lies, snug in its scabbard.

You stare at it for a heartbeat. Sukuna must have retrieved it, intending for you to take it. Your mouth twitches faintly, but instead of picking it up, you step over it, leaving the weapon where it lies.

A gift given, and one you’ll leave behind.

Ayana greets you with a gentle nudge, her warm breath coasting over your cheek. Huffing softly, the corner of your mouth attempts to rise.

“Ready to go, girl?” you murmur, circling her with a reassuring pat. Her dappled coat is smooth, brushed to a shine, clear that someone has taken care of her.

“We’ll ride toward the capital. Yuna will likely be waiting there for us,” you say, running a soothing hand along her neck before reaching for the bridle slung over the nearest beam. You begin fitting it over her head, your gloved hands steady as you secure the tack.

“And when this is all over, I’ll find you a place with real pastures. Somewhere with soft grass and open space, plenty of room to run wild.” You adjust the straps. “I’ll bring you something good too. Maybe sweet chestnuts. Or apples from some market we find along the way, the kind that smells like warm honey.”

She whinnies, and you smile at her.

“Freedom. Choices.” You give her a final pat. “Sounds nice, doesn’t it?”

The creak of the stable door opening makes your head tilt slightly. You pause. The heavy footfalls arrive like an approaching storm, the rustle of fabric a whisper, sending searing heat down your spine.

Sukuna’s footsteps might as well be stomping around inside your chest—all loud and disquieting.

But instead of hiding, you keep your focus on Ayana, and don’t look up. You continue preparing her, hands moving with careful precision.

Still, you can’t ignore the faint trace of his energy brushing against you, prodding—almost as if in greeting.

You force yourself to ignore it. To breathe.

You can block it out, can’t you? If nothing else, you’ve learned this much—you are far stronger than you ever realized.

Inhale. Exhale. Deep and low into your belly.

Slowly, the oppressive hum of him dulls. Quieted, but not gone. Never entirely gone.

A stall door groans open. One of his many horses lets out a low chuff, and then his voice—deep and quiet—fills the space, murmuring soft, soothing words to the beast. The familiar clink of buckles follows, the slow pull of leather straps.

He’s leaving now too.

You quicken your pace, finishing swiftly to avoid a final confrontation.

With the saddle fastened, you mount Ayana and steer her toward the main doors, keeping your focus locked ahead—nowhere else. A firm nudge to her side, and you burst from the stables, refusing to acknowledge the flash of red eyes snapping toward you as you race past.

No lasting glances. No words. No goodbye.

Nothing.

You’re already gone.

Erupting down the dirt-packed road with the wind tearing through your hair, the rain picks up. But you don’t mind. This is a first taste of freedom.

Pressed between the towering, muted trees at your sides and the endless curve of the grey sky above, Ayana surges forward, her hooves slicing through shallow puddles.

It all blurs. You don’t look back.

But it doesn’t take long before your mare’s gallop is drowned out by the thundering of hooves from behind.

Before you can turn, Sukuna suddenly appears beside you, his massive warhorse cutting across your path. Ayana rears back with a startled cry, and you grip the reins tightly to steady her, heart pounding as he pulls alongside.

Slowly, he comes into focus.

You haven’t met his gaze since last night, seen his face since that vulnerable moment when he was buried deep inside you, when he turned you away.

Now, eyes finding yours, they move across you, and something fractures behind the scarlet hue of his stare.

He looks so different from only hours ago. Before, he had been lost in pleasure—or whatever other tumultuous emotions had circled in his mind.

Now, he looks ready for war.

A dark charcoal kimono and hakama stretches over his broad frame, the long trishula strapped to his back a promise of violence. He appears as a shadow against the pale morning, cut from a deep wound, a stain.

And yet—

Tiny droplets of rain cling to him, softening the edges. Beads dot his lashes, dampen his pink hair to a deeper shade of blush. His eyes blink against the drizzle, and for a moment, the storm touches him too.

Hands loosening on Ayana’s reins, you part your lips to ask why he’s come—only for him to reach forward and crush something against your sternum.

Your chin tilts downward. Pressed against your chest is a thick stack of parchment, its edges curling from the damp. Reaching for them, your gloved fingers brush against the soaked paper, and you avoid his hand. Then your gaze drops lower, catching on the seal pressed into the front. A snake, coiled in red.

They are letters.

Your letters.

The ones he took.

Your eyes snap back to the King of Curses. He looms over you, his upper left arm still closing the space, palm flat against you. He looks out of place, oddly quiet, like he wants to speak but can’t quite force the words free.

Your grip on the reins shifts, leather creaking—the only sound above the steady patter of rain and the breath of the two horses.

Three heartbeats pass before he finally speaks.

“Be careful,” he mumbles lowly, pressing his hand more firmly as though unwilling to let go. His brow furrows. The way he looks at you—it’s there. If only he could unburden himself, let the words crawl free, you might listen.

You wait.

But his mouth and throat are fortified, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that aches.

“Stay off the main road. Don’t ride east, it’s dangero—”

“Goodbye, my Lord.”

Composed. Formal. Chin lifted.

Your interruption makes him hesitate, lip twitching—before, at last, he releases you. Slowly. Reluctantly. And it’s that reluctance on his face that makes him look like a man who’s taken another blade to the neck and doesn’t understand how.

What does he expect?

Again, you’ve given him pieces of yourself. And again, he has taken.

The thought twists.

Ruiner.

Tucking the letters deep into the front panels of your kimono, you turn away. Without a backward glance, you guide Ayana forward, and the space separating you stretches wide—like the unseen divide that always existed between your two rooms at the shrine.

Ayana surges ahead. The world blurs into gold and brown. But you only get so far before something inside tugs—an invisible thread pulling too tight.

You risk a glance back.

There’s a final flash of red clinging to you before vanishing, swallowed by the fog and rain, and the four-armed demon dissolves into the grey.

* * * * *

You don’t ride for long before finding a place beyond the main trail to dismount. Under the shelter of a sprawling oak, your mare slows, and you pull the letters from the safety of your kimono.

Settling onto a cold slab of rock, its damp surface seeping through your layers, you decide it’s time to read through them—if only to chase away the feeling clawing at your chest.

An odd ache of sorts.

Glancing down at the parchment in your hands—there are many. Some remain folded and untouched. While others have been folded and refolded, their creases worn soft, as if read over again and again.

Why Sukuna felt the need to keep them hidden, you’re unsure.

Taking the first from the top, you ease it open and begin.

Dearest Sister, I hope this letter comes to you well. Court life has been a marvel—every day feels like stepping into the poetry of a dream. The noblewomen are endlessly graceful, and I’ve started lessons to refine my own gestures and speech. Did you know there’s even a proper way to arrange robes for an audience? It’s all so fascinating, and I feel I’m learning so much. Yuna

Your brow drops. You set it aside and retrieve another.

Dearest Sister, I’ve had the opportunity to meet several suitors from other clans, Zen’in, Kamo. I’m still waiting to meet a man from the Sugawara clan, said to have silver hair and striking blue eyes like the open sea. The others carry themselves differently, some with charm, others with an air of superiority. I wonder what they saw when they looked at me. Yuna

You drag your eyes away from the elegant script, rifling through the stack before selecting another.

Dearest Sister, The dango here is unlike anything I’ve ever tasted. Soft, sweet, with just the slightest hint of char that, regrettably, left me with a terrible stomach ache. I lack restraint, but how could I when they were served on—

Enough.

Your fingers curl into the parchment.

What kind of letters are these? Not a single word asks about your well-being or safety. Not a single inquiry into how you are being treated at the shrine. She speaks only of herself, every sentence orbiting around her.

Jaw clenching, you shuffle through the rest, searching for a kind word—anything that isn’t self-indulgent. But there’s nothing. It’s always about Yuna. It always has been.

She is the protected.

You, the protector.

She, the gem.

You, the trinket, shoved into a corner.

Her, lovely.

You, anything but.

You’ve convinced yourself time and time again that your needs were never worthy, that you were deemed undeserving. Yet despite her volatile upbringing—one so similar to your own—she could still show you some hint of compassion, some fragment of concern. Couldn’t she?

You keep searching, keep looking, and still, nothing.

A crack runs through your heart, a fractious crumbling. Ridiculous to feel this way. All this from a few damn letters. But you swallow and flip through the papers once more, unfolding and refolding.

There has to be something.

Your fingers halt on a small, unmarked letter, the parchment lightly stained, its surface rough, absent of any emblem. Discreet. You unfold it slowly, revealing the familiar ink strokes of your father’s handwriting.

For a moment, you simply blink, looking down at the ramblings of a dead man—a man you killed—staring back at you.

To my youngest daughter. I will make this brief. If I am no longer here, I have one simple and final request to offer you. Do not trust the next head of the Kasai clan. Trust no one. Trust yourself. Trust your memories, but know that the mind is a terrible thing when touched. While you remain in the south, under the creature’s eyes, remember your mother. Remember her. Remember. And for all the harm I have caused you, I can only hope that one day you will find it in your heart to forgive me. Your Father. Kasai Takuma.

You stare at it, chest tight.

Forgive him?

The thought alone feels impossible. A delusion he has no right to ask for. A fucking fool’s errand.

Your eyes sting.

Crumpling the letter, you toss it aside, letting it sink into the wet grass.

The thought burns at you, picking. You push to your feet, pace in agitation, eyes fixed on the wadded paper while the damp earth begins to swallow it whole.

“The mind is a terrible thing when touched…” you murmur, watching the letter start to cave in on itself. “What the hell does that even mean?”

The ink starts to bleed.

Your mouth twitches.

With an exhale, you step closer, grabbing it before moisture can fully soak through, then stare at it again, reading it over and over until his nonsense is memorized.

Because something about this feels wrong. Bone-deep, wrong.

The Kasai clan was destroyed days ago. There is no clan head. No power. No influence.

Once, I think I cared for you, just like your mother had, but I forgot what that felt like.

Your father’s words wander back, unbidden. The same words he spoke before you stabbed him in the throat.

“You’re not making any sense, you bastard.”

Sighing, you let your head fall back, neck tilting as your eyes drift skyward. The rain has passed, but the clouds linger heavy, dragging their swollen bellies close to the earth.

Your heartbeat slows.

Remember.

Remember…

Remember what?

Closing your eyes, you take a long, deep breath. Calm.

Remember.

Remember…

I remember a breeze. A whisper in the dark.

“How are you feeling?”

Your gaze snaps open as a choking scent invades your nose.

A smell.

That smell.

Smoke.

Leather gloves creaking, you curl your hands into fists as your eyes lift to the east, catching sight of thick, dark plumes rising, streaking the sky in an ugly stain of ash.

Something’s burning.

* * * * *

Elsewhere, in a village to the east, some time later…

Screaming. Yelling. Crying.

Flames lick at the grey sky. Huts on fire. Villagers running in every direction.

The King of Curses knows no mercy. Even surrounded by ten, twenty, fifty men, he fights. And when Sukuna fights, he fights viciously. Violently. He fights alone.

From across the burning, crumbling village, five assailants throw themselves toward him all at once. With Hiten out, the demon’s hold on his cursed energy is loose, and he responds in kind.

The first man arrives, swinging his katana with misplaced triumph, aiming for his weapon hand. The sharp edge of the blade descends with a high-pitched wail, but before he can take another step, his blood and guts are already smeared across the ground.

As easy as splitting an overripe peach.

Sukuna grins at the mess and laughs, then lifts his chin from the warm, wet, glistening heap.

Three more follow.

He’s ready. Muscles in his chest swollen, the upper half of his kimono slung at his waist, four arms draped at his side, he steps forward to meet them.

For a heartbeat, as he moves, the energy of a lesser sorcerer rolls up against him in annoying fits and spurts. It’s distracting, a bit of a nuisance. Lip peeling back, he ignores it, his focus returning to the rushing of feet toward him, the advancing trio moving with well-trained precision.

But training means nothing in the presence of a many-faced monster.

Garments snapping in the heat of battle, Sukuna takes in the insignias woven into their attire—men from Heian-kyō and the Zen’in clan. The latter, he knows, is behind the constant attacks on his domain. For the past month, they’ve pushed his patience, having sat in league with the Kasai clan. Were.

There’s a bright red flash.

A spasm of energy hurtles toward him.

Dodging, he slides into a wide stance, sandals gripping the damp soil. His upper right arm lifts, two fingers poised. Scarlet eyes burn.

Flick!

A sharp hiss rips through the air.

The three men stagger to a stop, shudder, then split apart—torsos sliding cleanly from their hips, their bodies fall in halves to the ground with meaty thuds.

Veins, cartilage, bone, tissue, muscle.

Sometimes, Sukuna enjoys dragging out a fight—testing his opponent’s limits, squeezing out every last drop of potential.

Not today.

Today, he fights to kill. Today, he wants to see eyes wrench wide, watch insides spill pink, feel flesh tear under his hands. The slick heat of blood��he needs it. Needs to drown out the colour of snowmelt, the vision slipping long out of reach.

Pitiful.

He lets himself feel fucking pathetic for one second before turning to the last man in his vicinity.

There are still more to kill.

Lots more.

“Come on!” His canines flash.

He feels insane. Drunk. Blood drunk. Bloodlust.

He wants more. So much more.

The final man raises his hands, fingers aligning into some kind of hand sign.

“Thrilling.” Sukuna’s demonic grin pulls wider.

With a smooth motion, his lower left arm draws back, halberd poised.

He releases it.

The incantation barely leaves the sorcerer’s throat before the blades sink snugly into his windpipe. The man’s cries mutate into animalistic sounds as he crumples to his knees, then collapses onto his back, eyes fixed on the ashen sky.

“How boring,” the King of Curses mutters, stepping closer to the body.

Planting his foot on the lifeless chest, he leans into it, dislodging Hiten from the ruined neck with a slick, hideous squelch.

“Such a waste to use this here,” he scowls, turning the bloodied weapon in his hand with a reverent eye. “It deserves far worthier opponents…” Lowering the haft to the dirt, he lets the blade rest upright. “Perhaps another time.”

He lifts his attention from the spear, falling on the remains of the sprawling village, surveying where the chaos takes shape.

The pests of the Zen’in clan and men from the capital swarm the dirt paths between ruined huts, fire stinging the air as they rip the place apart. He catches sight of others lingering at the edges, biding their time, waiting, but he’s not sure for what.

Four eyes sweeping to the fields beyond, he sees they’re smothered in ash, the homes already burned to the ground before his arrival. This village—once the heart of this domain northeast of the shrine—is as good as lost. Survivors, mostly women and children, pick their way through the wreckage or scatter into the surrounding wilds. Few converge in the distance, forming a group as they attempt to flee toward the tree line—only to be cut down or dragged away.

A month ago, the situation wasn’t this dire. Then again, a month ago, everything was very different. But this assault feels… calculated.

As he moves toward another cluster of assailants, that same flicker of lesser energy brushes against him, making his brow crease in irritation. Again, he ignores it, too busy weighing his next opponent.

Out of nowhere, two horses rush past, their riders racing in the direction he came from.

South.

A warning rings out inside his mind, and he doesn’t hesitate to move.

Abandoning the village, Sukuna tracks them, his massive form cutting through the terrain. With a flick of his wrist, the first rider is ripped from the saddle, slamming against the earth.

The second man continues, veering deeper into the brush.

He doesn’t make it far.

With a single swipe, Sukuna cleaves through flesh and bone, severing the rider’s leg mid-gallop. The limb hits the ground first. The man follows, crashing into the undergrowth. His horse bolts, vanishing into the trees, leaving its master mutilated in the dirt, groaning in agony.

Through the thicket, the King of Curses moves slowly. Blood pools beneath the mangled figure, staining the rain-softened earth dark. Sukuna reaches him and kneels, fingers curling into the man's battle attire—a layered mix of padded silk and hemp, suited for a warrior of Heian-kyō’s polished courts yet built for combat. Hiten shifts at his side as Sukuna hauls the man upright, their faces close enough that he can taste the sour tang of his breath, can see the fear stretching lines in his features.

“Why are you here?” Sukuna’s voice is a bored, guttural drone.

What he said must have been funny, because his trembling prey smiles at him, baring a row of gummy teeth.

Oh.

Sukuna chuckles.

How sweet.

Canting his head like an animal, the monster’s lower right hand finds its way to the dismembered leg. His fingers crawl deep into the raw, bleeding cavity until the man’s mouth opens in a scream.

“I’ll ask again,” he drawls, pinching an artery between firm fingers. “Why are you here?”

“To collect!” the warrior croaks in pain, blood bubbling onto his chin, some managing to spill onto the mossy ground.

Sukuna’s grip loosens—slightly.

“To collect what?”

Sweat slithers down the man’s brow to settle in the hollow of his cheek.

“You,” he wheezes, then the grin from before returns, overtaking his shuddering expression. “And to take that whore of a wife off your hands.”

Sukuna’s face turns solid. Emotionless. He says nothing. Even when he imagines tearing the man’s jaw free from its roots, leaving him to choke on his own bile and blood.

“You are sentenced to death for the crimes against the Kasai clan,” he continues, glee painting his words even as his skin pales like a corpse. “Your wife stands accused of conspiracy and treason for instigating a coup.”

Sukuna’s jaw sets. He removes his fingers from inside the bloody stump.

“But, she’s wanted alive.” The man pauses. “There are far greater plans for her.”

The monster’s expression darkens.

“And who said she had anything to do with it?” His teeth are bared despite himself.

Patience.

“A witness,” the warrior sneers. “Someone of higher influence than both of you.”

“Fuck your so-called witness. It means nothing to me,” Sukuna hisses, yanking the man forward until their noses nearly touch. “The Kasai clan is gone. I took them apart.”

“No.” The man wheezes out a laugh, then licks his bloodied bottom lip. “Not all of them.”

The King of Curses already knows this. And he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about the accusations, the sentence placed upon him. Let them call him a criminal, a demon, a cannibal, disgraced, wretched—he’s heard it all before. But you? That’s… a different creature entirely.

His fingers flex around the warrior’s clothing, crumpling it further in his grip.

“Who?”

The man’s grin spreads grotesquely wide, every tooth on display.

“The new head of the Kasai clan.” He starts to laugh, his head lolling back in wild abandon.

Only then does Sukuna notice the eyes, the pupils—blown wide, unnaturally so.

“And she’s magnificent.” She. “You’ll see. You’ll see when—”

With a harsh twist, the man’s face is wrenched sideways. His laughter cuts off. Bones splinter. Flesh stretches. Pulls. Tears.

Sukuna doesn’t stop.

He rips the jaw clean from the warrior’s skull. Blood sprays across him in a fine mist. Holding the chunky mass of bone and tissue in his hand, he turns it slowly between his fingers as though admiring a beautiful flower. Below him, his victim collapses to the ground, his hands flying up to claw at the gaping red hole where his mouth once was. But there’s nothing, and his screams are reduced to wet, gurgling sounds as his body twitches in pain.

“Magnificent, was it?” Rising to his full height, Sukuna drops the shattered jaw. “Let’s see how magnificent Yuna Kasai is when I’m done with her.”

Without sparing another look, he turns, leaving the man to suffer, and saunters back toward the village.

As he walks, he collects everything, thinks about the manipulative little bitch who has finally revealed her hand—turning against you, usurping what remains of the Kasai clan, setting everything into motion.

Like a slow-working poison. And by the time you realize what she’s done, it will be too late.

Once your eyes have opened, it will destroy you.

And after all this, he let you go—knowing full well you were no longer safe.

Safe.

He scrubs a hand across his face, then runs it through his hair, fingers dragging through clotted blood and sweat. With another hand, he grips Hiten, shifting its weight as he slides the weapon’s haft into his obi, the blade rising over his shoulder, still within reach.

Walking out of the tree line, the village comes into view, and that same pressure as before pushes against his senses—a slow, drugging pulse in his veins. Drugging in the way that it’s familiar...

Sukuna slows, then stops, cocks his head to the side, all his senses straining.

That lesser energy he’s been feeling. Not lesser, just untamed energy. It reaches across him like a stranger but still familiar—known, but not entirely. The face of someone he once knew but never fully understood, even if he wished he had.

But that’s impossible.

Because it’s yours.

Your cursed energy. Here.

You are here.

Why the hell are you here? You can’t be. You were far from this place. He had told you not to ride east. So why does it feel like he’s breathing you in again? Hadn’t he finally rid himself of your presence?

And yet.

Spurts of it tell him something else.

You are here. And you are… fighting.

His four eyes roll across the surroundings, searching. There’s a wisp of it. He feels it. Then, he moves.

Carving his way through any assailant even as they lunge at him, he slips past every strike, every arc of steel, and every flicker of energy that flares to life.

Delving back deeper into the village, fire cracks. The wind shifts. Smoke spills down his throat, and the warm scent of death thickens, layered with fouler scents.

Decay.

His gaze narrows.

He moves faster.

The ground slopes under his feet. A natural dip in the land, where runoff pools from the rain. Down past charred remains of a market stall, he steps over a corpse.

More signs.

Footprints trailing through the dirt, the grass at their edges reduced to black husks. Ash curling over withered reeds. It only goes so far before the rot stops.

Your work.

He lifts his head.

The village stretches forward, its wreckage bisected by a narrow road snaking through the center.

More corpses litter the ground. Not just dead—ruined.

Darkness eats at the edges of their skin, flesh slack and mottled, collapsed inward. Their chests yawn open, ribs gaping, organs spilled like spoiled fruit.

So this is the full extent of your power—all from a single touch.

He pauses, taking it in—the tattered scraps of the dead’s clothing, the insignias barely visible through falling soot and ash.

Heian-kyō and Zen’in.

Sukuna steps over the bodies. Another corpse shudders in its final moments, a rattling hiss as bones slump into a heap of innards.

Fresh.

You were here moments ago.

He breathes it in, takes it in, the reeking taste of sick life on his tongue.

You’re messy. Inefficient. Brutal. Room for error.

His lip curls.

Reckless woman.

“Where the fuck are you?” he growls, stepping over another pile of split torsos and soured meat. But there it is—your pulse, steady through this slaughter.

Skirting a half-collapsed hut, he follows its pull.

Then, a desperate cry cracks the air.

He stops.

Goes still.

Listens.

His ears catch the sting of metal, the shuffle of hurried feet, and a crowd of voices.

But it’s you.

He knows this.

Through the shambles, down shallow alleys, past collapsed walls where fire has eaten at wood and thatch—he moves.

The pulse of your cursed energy bleeds stronger.

The noise ahead swells.

Laughter.

Jeering voices. Too loud.

He rounds the last ruin and steps into an open stretch of the village square.

In the distance, a cluster of men stands in a tight mass all shouting and revelling. Teeth flashing, voices raised as though they’ve just brought down something great.

As though they’ve won.

He moves closer.

The ravenous crowd parts like a vein split open, but there’s no beast lying at their feet.

There’s only you.

The Zen’in clan and men from the capital have you.

Their hands claw at you—pulling, dragging, yanking—before shoving you face-first into the slick mud. Your arms are wrenched behind your back, gloves missing, exposing discoloured fingers and hands.

Beside you, one man yanks Ayana’s reins, his knuckles tight around the leather. The mare screams, bucking wildly, panic twitching through every strained muscle. Kicking up dirt, she fights to break free.

But it isn’t enough.

She is losing.

And so are you.

Thrashing, you fight like a wild creature ripped straight from the forest, meant to be bound and butchered.

And you don’t stop. Not even when a man straddles your back, his knees digging into you as he shoves a dirtied strip of cloth between your teeth, wrapping it tight around your head, forcing your cries to collapse into muffled rage. Then he adjusts his grip and pulls. Your spine wrenches into a painful bow, body buckling under heavy weight.

You scream.

And—

Livid. Fucking. Fury.

Clarity comes to a sharpened point.

Jaw clenched, it's incredible how the violence hits Sukuna all at once—so forceful he's certain his teeth crack down to the marrow.

But that isn’t the worst of it.

Another man steps around your struggling form, gripping a branding iron. Its tip glows—a hot, furious thing. Your right arm is wrenched back, palm up, pinned to the ground.

That’s when he understands this condemnation.

裏切り

Traitor. Betrayer.

They’re going to brand you.

You must feel the heat licking at your skin because he sees your eyes go wild with terror. Sees the moment the screams rip harder from your throat, gag soaking with it.

The sight before him—so much like his own beginning, when fire once kissed his face.

But this.

The sound of you struggling, fighting, handled like prey—after everything—this is all it takes.

He understands it instantly, viscerally, and an ugliness crawls within him, a weapon unsheathed. That same feeling, the one that gripped him last night slides over his being, the one he felt before he followed you into the forest.

That repetition of tiny words all to form a much grander thing.

His.

Always.

But he doesn’t name it. Doesn’t think it. Doesn’t breathe it back into existence.

You were never truly his to begin with.

Sukuna takes a step.

Something must alert you to him because your gaze cuts through the crowd and finds his. And you're furious. Eyes screaming into him, eyes screaming at him. And with that look, the first threads of his restraint toward you fall apart.

The King of Curses takes another patient step.

He doesn’t need to run.

Time bends for him.

And everyone here will be dead in a heartbeat.

If only he knew about the presence closing in behind him.

🔗Chapter 36

#beneath the silk #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #heian sukuna #dark content #true form sukuna #dark fantasy #jjk fanfic #sukuna fanfic #sukuna smut #jujustsu kaisen x reader #true form sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n

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bonesashesglass · 4 months ago

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God, I’m just so mad and upset and I need to rant for a minute:

I live in Wisconsin, where the last several years winters here have been scarily mild. It’s not uncommon for us to have a mild winter every few years or so, but we’ve been having milder and milder winters for the past several years in a row. Winters here are supposed to be long and snowy. It’s supposed to start snowing in November, sometimes October, and the snow doesn’t melt all the way till April, sometimes early May.

Last year, I felt like we barely even had a winter. There was snow on the ground for maybe two months total, it kept melting and then coming back, which isn’t supposed to happen. The snow will maybe melt after the first couple times, but once you get to December, it’s supposed to stay on the ground until Spring.

Same thing is happening this year. It’ll snow for like two days, stick for maybe one day, and melt. It’ll stay that way for a couple of weeks. It’s January now. The fact that there’s no snow on the ground, in fucking Wisconsin, is alarming. The fact that this has been happening several years in a row now is alarming. I’m seeing it happen right in front of me. We’re all seeing the effects of climate change now, and we’re seeing how it’s directly destroying and harming the planet. We can see it with our own eyes.

I’m thinking about the fires in LA right now. I saw someone talk about how they were alarmed they were getting these kinds of winds in January. (I’m not familiar with LA climate but this person talked about how abnormal it is).

Everything the scientists have been saying about climate change is coming true. It’s happening right in front of us, for the whole world to see. And still, the people responsible, the right-wing politicians and businesspeople that profit off of this just deny deny deny. How can you deny what’s happening right in front of everyone? They are destroying our planet, and they still think they can deny it happening. It just makes me so angry. That a handful of people have the power to destroy our planet and refuse to even acknowledge it. They act like the words “climate change” is liberal propaganda. As if it’s not something we can see happening right before our eyes. They pretend it’s political, they pretend it’s a conspiracy, because they have no other way to justify being against protecting the planet.

One thing that angers me most is that the only thing people seem to do about this is complain on social media. (I know, that’s exactly what I’m doing, but hear me out). LA is burning to the ground because of climate change, and what’s anybody going to do about it? Make a post on Twitter? Maybe write an article about it?

That doesn’t change anything. We need change. We need direct action. It’s only going to get worse if we keep letting companies and governments continue as they are. They cannot continue as they are.

If you haven’t heard of the book How to Blow Up a Pipeline, go look it up. The author talks about a lot of the stuff I want to get at here, but he puts it a lot better.

My hope is that these LA fires will start a movement for stopping climate change. Not just a general shift of opinion like we’ve seen the past few years, but a real movement where people show up in person to do something. We exist in a time where Luigi Mangione is seen as a hero for his actions, I hope people will get inspired to take more direct action in regards to climate change. (That doesn’t mean shooting more people, I’m not advocating for murder, but we need to start taking action beyond just complaining on social media).

I’m going to start researching resources to help myself and others to get more involved with preventing climate change. I hope one day, we’ll have an actual winter in Wisconsin again. To everyone in LA, please please stay safe❤️

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atlaculture · 1 year ago

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Cultural Architecture: NWT Totem Poles - The Specifics Pt. 2

Among most of the totem poles we see throughout the Northern Water Tribe (NWT), four representations appear consistently throughout. For this post, I will be covering the final two.

Koi Fish

The third totem is clearly a koi fish with long whiskers and a marking on its forehead. In other words, it's a reference to the physical forms of the moon and ocean spirit. I can't help but wonder if Aang's realization of Tui and La's true forms was unconsciously informed by the all the koi head totems omnipresent throughout the NWT.

Culturally, koi fish are yet another example of the Chinese influence in the NWT. In Chinese culture, koi represent fame, family harmony and wealth. There's also a famous Chinese folktale about koi fish and other carp:

Along the Yellow River, there is a legendary waterfall that cascades from a magical mountain top known as Longmen (登龍門), meaning the Dragon's Gate. If a carp can swim upstream against the currents and hop over the waterfall into Longmen, the fish will transform into a dragon.

Thus, koi fish can also represent determination, courage, and perseverance. The connection between koi and dragons also strengthens the fan theory that the dragons Ran and Shaw might be the Fire Nation's equivalent to Tui and La. Perhaps the dragons are the spirit of Sun and Fire respectively?

Wolf

The totem beneath the koi depicts a wolf. The wolf head totem also bares a striking resemblance to the headdress that Sokka wears in "Day of the Black Sun" (Season 3, Episode 11). Wolves are prominent figures in the mythologies of many Indigenous American cultures, particularly those whose societies were oriented around hunting.

Within different Inuit groups, wolves are called amarok (multiple groups), amagok (Inuvialuit), and amaguk (Inupiat). These names refer both to normal wolves and to the gigantic, supernatural wolf of Inuit religion. There are two Amarok-focused tales that I'd like to detail in this post:

A persecuted and physically stunted boy seeks to increase his strength. When he calls out to the lord of strength, Amarok appears and wrestles him to the ground with its tail. This causes a number of small bones to fall from the boy's body. The Amarok tells the boy that the bones had prevented his growth; he instructs the boy to return daily in order to develop his strength. After several days of wrestling with the Amarok, the boy is strong enough to overcome three large bears, thus gaining him the esteem of his village.

The land was once full of caribou; the people lived well and were happy. But the hunters only killed those caribou that were big and strong. Soon all that was left were the weak and the sick. The people began to starve. And so they called upon Amorak, the spirit of the wolf, to winnow out the weak and the sick, so that the herd would once again be strong. The people realized that the caribou and the wolf were one, for although the caribou feeds the wolf, it is the wolf that keeps the caribou strong.

From these two stories, we get quite a nuanced conception of what the wolf represents in Inuit culture. While wolves represent strength in many cultures, these tales really emphasize the wolf as a creature that strengthens those around it. Through this worldview, we understand strength not as an innate or individualistic quality, but one that's nurtured through mentorship and interdependence.

This makes Sokka's adoption of wolf imagery during "Day of Black Sun" all the more appropriate. Sokka is certainly not the most powerful character in the show, but his role as the leader strengthens the group as a whole.

Like what I’m doing? Tips always appreciated, never expected. ^_^

https://ko-fi.com/atlaculture

#avatar #atla #avatar the last airbender #water tribe #cultural architecture

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anotherhumaninthisworld · 3 months ago

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Danton getting warned about his upcoming arrest compilation

One day I told Danton: ”Your carelessness surprises me, I understand nothing of your apathy. Don’t you see Robespierre is conspiring to lose you? Won’t you do anything to prevent it?” ”If I thought that he has so much as thought about it, [Danton replied], I would eat his entrails!” Five or six days later, this man so terrible allowed himself to be arrested like a child and slaughtered like a lamb. Mémoires sur la Convention et le Directoire (1827) by Antoine-Clair Thibaudeau, page 60.

One morning Panis entered [Danton’s] office and found him warming himself by the fire and playing with his nephew, who was still a child. Here, read your proscription and mine! [he said]. And he presents him with a draft of an arrest warrant, written by a member of the government committees. Danton, having read it, replied coldly: They will not dare!... Panis, in despair, withdrew. (M. Menuel, this nephew of Danton, told me about this meeting. Panis had also told it to a few people who confirmed it to me). Histoire de la Révolution française: 1789-1796 (1851) by Nicolas Villiaumé, page 188.

The day before the arrest of Danton and Camille Desmoulins, he (Rousselin de Saint-Albin) ran panting to both of them several times, he engaged them, begged them to be on guard at a time when Robespierre and Billaud were plotting their downfall. But Danton thought he was too strong to listen to a warning that would have saved him. “They will not dare,” he said; then, looking at himself in a mirror:“Let us not fear anything, children that you are! See my head, doesn't it sit well on my shoulders? And why would they want to kill me? What's the point? Among some friends who were present at this interview, one said: ”There are many proscribed deputies who fortunately escaped. Dulaure, Doulcet, Louvet retired to Switzerland. What prevents you from absenting yourself for at least some time?” Danton replied: “What does it mean to absent yourself? Isn’t that emigrating? Do we take our homeland with the sole of our shoe?” Camille shared this opinion. Alas! It was blind security. ”I want,” he said, as he repeated going to the scaffold, ”I want to share the fate of Danton, whatever it may be.” Œuvres de Camille Desmoulins (1874) by Jules Claretie, volume 2, page 393. Claretie claims this anecdote originates from the mouth of Desmoulins’ mother-in-law.

The two committees signed arrest warrants against Danton, Desmoulins, Philippeaux and Lacroix for the following night. In the morning, Marat's sister, having learned about it through the indiscretion of an employee of the Committee of Public Safety, who had heard a few words, ran to warn Danton. As he had already left for the Assembly, she went there and called out for him. “Mount the rostrum,” she said to him. ”You have no time to lose, because the rumor is that you have already been arrested: the opportunity is favorable: Tallien presides: your friends are numerous, and your eloquence will crush the committees. In circumstances such as these, it is the one who attacks who wins.” ”I would have to proscribe them, replied Danton; because I know Billaud and Robespierre: they are relentless.” ”But since they want your head, take, if necessary, theirs, remember that, without you, Robespierre will very quickly be swallowed up himself. My brother told me the day before his death that he was only good at making speeches, that he understood nothing about government, and that he would lose his head at the first crisis. If he abandons you, his friend, you, the man of August 10, he is only a villain; he must perish. Collect your thoughts for an hour, and mount the rostrum: change the committees; proscribe them if necessary. "Well! Once they have me arrested, would I not be acquitted by the revolutionary tribunal and brought back in triumph, to the Convention, like the Friend of the People was? Then my enemies will be confounded and order will be restored without bloodshed.” ”Don't be fooled: last year the tribunal was impartial; now it is only the slave of the committees, which after having hindered the defense of the Girondins and that of Vincent, will prevent you from speaking.” Danton fell into reverie. “Above all, remember,” added Mademoiselle Marat, “that you must neither flee nor hide. Several patriots, in their friendship, have proposed it to you; you were even offered asylum. Danton has no other place than the rostrum. Get up there without delay; this is not just about your salvation, but of that of all of your friends, but of the salvation of the republic. Farewell." Danton shook her hand and left her, promising to not lose time. Histoire de la Révolution française: 1789-1796 (1851) by Nicolas Villiaumé, page 279. Villiaumé had gotten in contact with Albertine Marat before her death, so it’s most likely she herself this anecdote originates from.

”Oh! If I had known that they would arrest me,” cried Lacroix [at the Luxembourg prison]. ”I knew it,” Danton replied, people came and warned me, and I couldn’t believe it.” ”Trois mémoires de la collection de Nougatet” cited in Histoire parlementaire de la Révolution Française, volume 32, page 210.

Danton, placed in a cell next to Westermann [in the Conciergerie], didn’t stop talking, less to be heard by Westermann than by us. […] Here are some phrases I retained: […] ”I knew I would get arrested.” Mémoires d’un detenu pour servir à l’histoire de la tyrannie de Robespierre(1795) by Honoré Riouffe, page 88.

#georges danton #frev #french revolution #frev compilation #albertine marat #robespierre #jesus did you WANT to die georges???#or was he just convinced there was no way he would get arrested/would 100% beat the tribunal if placed in front of it

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mostlysignssomeportents · 2 months ago

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Twinkump Linkdump

I'm on a 20+ city book tour for my new novel PICKS AND SHOVELS. Catch me in SAN DIEGO at MYSTERIOUS GALAXY next MONDAY (Mar 24), and in CHICAGO with PETER SAGAL on Apr 2. More tour dates here.

I have an excellent excuse for this week's linkdump: I'm in Germany, but I'm supposed to be in LA, and I'm not, because London Heathrow shut down due to a power-station fire, which meant I spent all day yesterday running around like a headless chicken, trying to get home in time for my gig in San Diego on Monday (don't worry, I sorted it):

https://www.mystgalaxy.com/32425Doctorow

Therefore, this is 30th linkdump, in which I collect the assorted links that didn't make it into this week's newsletters. Here are the other 29:

https://pluralistic.net/tag/linkdump/

I always like to start and end these 'dumps with some good news, which isn't easy in these absolutely terrifying times. But there is some good news: Wil Wheaton has announced his new podcast, a successor of sorts to the LeVar Burton Reads podcast. It's called "It's Storytime" and it features Wil reading his favorite stories handpicked from science fiction magazines, including On Spec, the magazine that bought my very first published story (I was 16, it ran in their special youth issue, it wasn't very good, but boy did it mean a lot to me):

https://wilwheaton.net/podcast/

Here's some more good news: a court has found (again!) that works created by AI are not eligible for copyright. This is the very best possible outcome for people worried about creators' rights in the age of AI, because if our bosses can't copyright the botshit that comes out of the "AI" systems trained on our work, then they will pay us:

https://www.yahoo.com/news/us-appeals-court-rejects-copyrights-171203999.html

Our bosses hate paying us, but they hate the idea of not being able to stop people from copying their entertainment products so! much! more! It's that simple:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/20/everything-made-by-an-ai-is-in-the-public-domain/

This outcome is so much better than the idea that AI training isn't fair use – an idea that threatens the existence of search engines, archiving, computational linguistics, and other clearly beneficial activities. Worse than that, though: if we create a new copyright that allows creators to prevent others from scraping and analyzing their works, our bosses will immediately alter their non-negotiable boilerplate contracts to demand that we assign them this right. That will allow them to warehouse huge troves of copyrighted material that they will sell to AI companies who will train models designed to put us on the breadline (see above, re: our bosses hate paying us):

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/13/hey-look-over-there/#lets-you-and-he-fight

The rights of archivists grow more urgent by the day, as the Trump regime lays waste to billions of dollars worth of government materials that were produced at public expense, deleting decades of scientific, scholarly, historical and technical materials. This is the kind of thing you might expect the National Archive or the Library of Congress to take care of, but they're being chucked into the meat-grinder as well.

To make things even worse, Trump and Musk have laid waste to the Institute of Museum and Library Services, a tiny, vital agency that provides funding to libraries, archives and museums across the country. Evan Robb writes about all the ways the IMLS supports the public in his state of Washington:

Technology support. Last-mile broadband connection, network support, hardware, etc. Assistance with the confusing e-rate program for reduced Internet pricing for libraries.

Coordinated group purchase of e-books, e-audiobooks, scholarly research databases, etc.

Library services for the blind and print-disabled.

Libraries in state prisons, juvenile detention centers, and psychiatric institutions.

Digitization of, and access to, historical resources (e.g., newspapers, government records, documents, photos, film, audio, etc.).

Literacy programming and support for youth services at libraries.

The entire IMLS budget over the next 10 years rounds to zero when compared to the US federal budget – and yet, by gutting it, DOGE is amputating significant parts of the country's systems that promote literacy; critical thinking; and universal access to networks, media and ideas. Put it that way, and it's not hard to see why they hate it so.

Trying to figure out what Trump is up to is (deliberately) confusing, because Trump and Musk are pursuing a chaotic agenda that is designed to keep their foes off-balance:

https://www.wired.com/story/elon-musk-donald-trump-chaos/

But as Hamilton Nolan writes, there's a way to cut through the chaos and make sense of it all. The problem is that there are a handful of billionaires who have so much money that when they choose chaos, we all have to live with it:

The significant thing about the way that Elon Musk is presently dismantling our government is not the existence of his own political delusions, or his own self-interested quest to privatize public functions, or his own misreading of economics; it is the fact that he is able to do it. And he is able to do it because he has several hundred billion dollars. If he did not have several hundred billion dollars he would just be another idiot with bad opinions. Because he has several hundred billion dollars his bad opinions are now our collective lived experience.

https://www.hamiltonnolan.com/p/the-underlying-problem

We actually have a body of law designed to prevent this from happening. It's called "antitrust" and 40 years ago, Jimmy Carter decided to follow the advice of some of history's dumbest economists who said that fighting monopolies made the economy "inefficient." Every president since, up to – but not including – Biden, did even more to encourage monopolization and the immense riches it creates for a tiny number of greedy bastards.

But Biden changed that. Thanks to the "Unity Taskforce" that divided up the presidential appointments between the Democrats' corporate wing and the Warren/Sanders wing, Biden appointed some of the most committed, effective trustbusters we'd seen for generations:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/18/administrative-competence/#i-know-stuff

After Trump's election, there was some room for hope that Trump's FTC would continue to pursue at least some of the anti-monopoly work of the Biden years. After all, there's a sizable faction within the MAGA movement that hates (some) monopolies:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/01/24/enforcement-priorities/#enemies-lists

But last week, Trump claimed to have illegally fired the two Democratic commissioners on the FTC: Alvaro Bedoya and Rebecca Slaughter. I stan both of these commissioners, hard. When they were at the height of their powers in the Biden years, I had the incredible, disorienting experience of getting out of bed, checking the headlines, and feeling very good about what the government had just done.

Trump isn't legally allowed to fire Bedoya and Slaughter. Perhaps he's just picking this fight as part of his chaos agenda (see above). But there are some other pretty good theories about what this is setting up. In his BIG newsletter, Matt Stoller proposes that Trump is using this case as a wedge, trying to set a precedent that would let him fire Federal Reserve Chair Jerome Powell:

https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/why-trump-tried-to-fire-federal-trade

But perhaps there's more to it. Stoller just had Commissioner Bedoya on Organized Money, the podcast he co-hosts with David Dayen, and Bedoya pointed out that if Trump can fire Democratic commissioners, he can also fire Republican commissioners. That means that if he cuts a shady deal with, say, Jeff Bezos, he can order the FTC to drop its case against Amazon and fire the Republicans on the commission if they don't frog when he jumps:

https://www.organizedmoney.fm/p/trumps-showdown-at-the-ftc-with-commissioner

(By the way, Organized Money is a fantastic podcast, notwithstanding the fact that they put me on the show last week:)

https://audio.buzzsprout.com/6f5ly01qcx6ijokbvoamr794ht81

The future that our plutocrat overlords are grasping for is indeed a terrible one. You can see its shape in the fantasies of "liberatarian exit" – the seasteads, free states, and other assorted attempts to build anarcho-capitalist lawless lands where you can sell yourself into slavery, or just sell your kidneys. The best nonfiction book on libertarian exit is Raymond Criab's 2022 "Adventure Capitalism," a brilliant, darkly hilarious and chilling history of every time a group of people have tried to found a nation based on elevating selfishness to a virtue:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/14/this-way-to-the-egress/#terra-nullius

If Craib's book is the best nonfiction volume on the subject of libertarian exit, then Naomi Kritzer's super 2023 novel Liberty's Daughter is the best novel about life in a libertopia – a young adult novel about a girl growing up in the hell that would be life with a Heinlein-type dad:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/21/podkaynes-dad-was-a-dick/#age-of-consent

But now this canon has a third volume, a piece of design fiction from Atelier Van Lieshout called "Slave City," which specs out an arcology populated with 200,000 inhabitants whose "very rational, efficient and profitable" arrangements produce €7b/year in profit:

https://www.archdaily.com/30114/slave-city-atelier-van-lieshout

This economic miracle is created by the residents' "voluntary" opt-in to a day consisting of 7h in an office, 7h toiling in the fields, 7h of sleep, and 3h for "leisure" (e.g. hanging out at "The Mall," a 24/7, 26-storey " boundless consumer paradise"). Slaves who wish to better themselves can attend either Female Slave University or Male Slave University (no gender controversy in Slave City!), which run 24/7, with 7 hours of study, 7 hours of upkeep and maintenance on the facility, 7h of sleep, and, of course, 3h of "leisure."

The field of design fiction is a weird and fertile one. In his traditional closing keynote for this year's SXSW Interactive festival, Bruce Sterling opens with a little potted history of the field since it was coined by Julian Bleeker:

https://bruces.medium.com/how-to-rebuild-an-imaginary-future-2025-0b14e511e7b6

Then Bruce moves on to his own latest design fiction project, an automated poetry machine called the Versificatore first described by Primo Levi in an odd piece of science fiction written for a newspaper. The Versificatore was then adapted to the screen in 1971, for an episode of an Italian sf TV show based on Levi's fiction:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tva-D_8b8-E

And now Sterling has built a Versificatore. The keynote is a sterlingian delight – as all of his SXSW closers are. It's a hymn to the value of "imaginary futures" and an instruction manual for recovering them. It could not be more timely.

Sterling's imaginary futures would be a good upbeat note to end this 'dump with, but I've got a real future that's just as inspiring to close us out with: the EU has found Apple guilty of monopolizing the interfaces to its devices and have ordered the company to open them up for interoperability, so that other manufacturers – European manufacturers! – can make fully interoperable gadgets that are first-class citizens of Apple's "ecosystem":

https://www.reuters.com/technology/apple-ordered-by-eu-antitrust-regulators-open-up-rivals-2025-03-19/

It's a good reminder that as America crumbles, there are still places left in the world with competent governments that want to help the people they represent thrive and prosper. As the Prophet Gibson tells us, "the future is here, it's just not evenly distributed." Let's hope that the EU is living in America's future, and not the other way around.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/03/22/omnium-gatherum/#storytime

Image: TDelCoro https://www.flickr.com/photos/tomasdelcoro/48116604516/

CC BY-SA 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/

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misspelledwordswizard · 6 months ago

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Misunderstanding

Legend x Reader

Summary: Where two idiots in love refuse to accept their feelings and end up suffering from their lack of communication.

It had been two days since we had passed through a portal that took us to an unknown time. We were currently searching for a nearby village where we could seek information, but night was approaching and there were no signs of civilization so close, which led us to the decision to set up camp. Murmurs of complaints about tiredness were heard, having been walking through the trees and sleeping under the stars for days on end, but there was not much to do; we should keep moving forward.

The group quickly split up, everyone already accustomed to their respective tasks so that everything could be organized as quickly and efficiently as possible. Already knowing my position in this math, I hurried to collect firewood and help Wild with the food. Everyone seemed discouraged and without energy lately. I wish I could do something to change that. Maybe preparing something different for the meal would be a good way to start.

I was quick to collect dry branches that could be used in the fire. These recent times that I was traveling with Chain ended up training me for this type of activity. I didn't have the habit of camping before, but now it has become part of my daily life, my routine, I had to learn to like it and adapt, but it's not so bad. At least I have good company.

I went to Wild with what I could get and he arranged to light the fire in his unique but quick way. With that arranged, we analyzed what we had in stock to choose the ideal recipe. Thanks to the Sheikah Slate, the ingredients were well preserved and we usually had a large stock of things. The problem is that with such a large group it was necessary to replenish frequently, and it had been a while since we had done that. The variety of vegetables was low, but we still had mushrooms and some meat, which needed to be replenished urgently tomorrow.

We decided to use all the remaining rice to make beef curry and mushroom onigiri, which we could store to eat tomorrow as well. With that decided, we set off to prepare. Wild took charge of the curry while I made the rice, which I would need a lot of water to wash, so I decided to start preparing it at the lake near where we camped. I grabbed what I would need and started to walk away from the camp. It wasn't very far, depending on where you looked, you could still see the clearing we were in next to it.

On the way there, I came across Veteran, who was returning from his own search for water for everyone to drink during the night. It's been a while since I've been able to talk to him. No matter what I do, something always happens that prevents me from starting a conversation or keeping it going for very long. I wonder if he's avoiding me for some reason, always dodging my questions, always avoiding looking at me. Maybe, even after all this time with me in the group, he still doesn't trust me, or he just doesn't want to get close.

This idea alone makes me sad. I would like to get along with everyone in the Chain, of course, but especially with him. There were few times when we could really interact, alone, but they were precious moments for me. Even without that intention, he managed to turn bad days into good days, just by talking about some nonsense with me or telling me about something from one of his adventures. I thought we were getting closer, but then what could have happened for him to avoid me? Maybe I said something stupid.

Seeing this opportunity to try to talk to him, I felt a smile form on my lips as I opened my mouth to say something nice and every day, just to test the waters, but I didn't even have time to do so. Legend walked past me, quickening his pace and leaving me behind, without even looking me in the eyes, remaining focused on his destination. Maybe this wasn't the best time, or maybe he just didn't want to talk. I hope so.

I made my way to the lake, trying to take my mind off it, I crouched down at the edge of the water and began the delicate work. It was an easy task, but not so quick, so I gave myself time to think. No matter how hard I tried, for some reason this boy just wouldn't leave my thoughts, surrounding my mind with all the possibilities of what could have happened, making my heart tighten melancholically, blaming myself for something I don't even know what it is.

I pushed these thoughts away when I finished the task, collecting the used things and returning the way I had come here. Trying to focus on how I would prepare the meal, I managed to distract myself enough, but that only made me realize how hungry I was. I approached the Cook, showing him my work and putting the pot on the fire, careful not to burn the only rice we had left. Still disturbed by those thoughts, I gathered the courage to approach the subject with the hero next to me, who might be able to shed some light on all of this.

— Do you think the Veteran has been acting strange lately? – I asked, trying to find out if it was really something related to me.

— Strange? Not that I noticed, he even seems a little excited. – Wild replied, confirming my suspicions, making me wilted.

— Then it must be with me. I feel like he's avoiding me, but I don't know what I could have done wrong?

— Avoiding you? I don't think that's it. Oh, unless you did something really bad, he's not mad, you can be sure. After all, if that complainer was mad at someone, you can be sure everyone would know! – He joked, making me laugh thinking about how dramatic the Vet could be sometimes, it was comical, kind of adorable.

That was good enough to calm my anxiety, for now. I would still like to know the real reason for it, but I don't want to pressure him, so I'll keep quiet for now. With that thought, I managed to calm down enough to focus on the food I was preparing and not burn what we would have for dinner.

◇

It was around noon, and we had been walking since sunrise, but to our lucky luck, we finally saw signs of a nearby village, which we should reach in less than an hour. Still unable to identify the area, we had no idea what time it was, but it was already clear that this was not the Hyrule of any of us, or else we would have known by now.

Wind had been telling me and the Blacksmith about one of his adventures on the high seas the whole way, in his usual lively manner, to which I tried to pay as much attention as possible, which was difficult considering that my main thought was showing my tiredness and hunger. The onigiri prepared yesterday had not even lasted an hour since we started walking, it was basically breakfast, but it was not enough to sustain everyone for that long, so I imagine the others are in a situation similar to mine.

I'll make sure the first place we go when we get to the village is a restaurant. That was the main thought going through my mind right now, but between the internal complaints of hunger and leg pain, I held on tight, listening to the Sailor's story and trying to be as involved as possible.

The sun was shining hotly in the sky, but it was a welcome warmth compared to the cold winds that were biting us. There was plenty of nature around here, but the trail we were on was through the middle of the forest, which made me think that all this nature might be a bit too much for me. There were times when branches and plants brushed against my legs, scaring me because I thought it was some insect. The boys must think I'm crazy because of the occasional muffled screams I would let out because of it.

I'm thankful for having heavy leather boots that were great for this type of terrain. I can handle monsters, but I definitely don't have the head to deal with small, poisonous creatures that can approach me without me noticing. Which is terrible considering my obvious lack of attention to my surroundings.

The rest of the way was a bit easier, the trail was more open, which allowed us to pass through peacefully until we reached the entrance of the village, where we were greeted politely by the locals. This seemed like a very welcoming place, accustomed to tourists, it was a relatively large village, so I imagine it must have been a long time ago from the Traveler. The locals who welcomed us answered our questions pleasantly and I was quick to ask where the nearest restaurant was, which luckily wasn't too far away.

Everyone agreed that we would eat first and explore later, we would need to divide the group into different tasks, such as getting information, staying, and restocking food. We followed the path that had been explained to us and soon came across the establishment mentioned above. It was a large restaurant with a rustic wooden look, very pretty, and it seemed like a comfortable place to be. None of us were against having lunch there, so we all went in, famished.

Time had to make sure everyone stayed in control and didn't cause a ruckus and end up getting kicked out. We had to wait a while until we found a table that would fit the ten of us, but soon we were all sitting down, chatting and thinking about what we would order to eat. Even with the Old Man and myself trying to control everyone, the table soon became a blur of animated simultaneous conversations, which I couldn't resist joining in on.

— I want a risotto! – Wind chose, excited to be able to eat something different.

— Wait a minute, we haven't even been served yet. – I replied, laughing at his excitement.

— Oh, I wish I could try a little bit of everything. – Wild commented, almost drooling over the menu.

— You can try a little bit of what each of us orders. – Hyrule suggested, receiving disapproving looks from his brothers who were not so willing to share their food.

— No way! – Four replied, not at all in favor of this possibility.

The conversation continued while everyone debated what they would order, I settled for a seafood fried rice, which looked simple but very good. So, we started to wait to be able to order, conversations were still circulating around the table, but at a relatively lower level than before. It was then that a beautiful young woman, a restaurant employee, approached our table, ready to take our order.

She was truly a slender, tall, and beautiful woman. She looked like a princess even though she was hiding in such ordinary clothes. Her long, wavy golden hair looked angelic, and her deep brown eyes showed a certain maturity. The others didn't seem to care much, but I know she must have received looks, which were totally justified given her level of beauty.

Soon we were waiting for the food in a pleasant atmosphere. The last few days had been peaceful, without any problems, while we tried to get to the village, which made everyone relaxed and was a relief. The food arrived and ran out almost as quickly. Everything was very tasty, and on top of that, the place was beautiful and cozy. It was truly a find. I would like to come back here before we leave this village.

It took about an hour and a half, from the time we arrived until everyone finished eating, paid, and went out to explore the city. Warriors divided us into small groups. Twilight and Wild would be in charge of hunting, Hyrule and Four would buy other food that was missing. Sky and I were responsible for finding a guesthouse and booking rooms while the rest of us split up to explore and get information.

◇

Sky walked beside me through the quiet streets, some locals who passed by greeted us kindly, which we reciprocated. After walking for a few minutes, we decided it would be best to ask someone where there was a guesthouse; this village was quite large and the last thing we needed was to get lost. Not to mention that, of course, we were desperate to rest soon.

After following the proper directions, we arrived at a large residence, with a very clear sign indicating it was the guesthouse. It was easy to find, it was the largest building in the area, which was mostly residential. We went in and Sky offered to make the reservation and request the rooms, getting five rooms with two beds each. I helped him get the keys, which we would have to distribute among the others later, but for now, we chose our own rooms to take a look at the quality of them – and to take a nap.

Entering the room, I was surprised by a beautiful view from the window. We were on the top floor, the third, and the view from here was very beautiful, not only that, but there was also a small balcony. The room was very clean and organized, the two single beds had large, heavy white duvets and two fluffy pillows for each bed. A small bedside table made of white and wood gave a charming air to the place, which in itself had a wonderful smell of perfume and cleanliness.

I felt like I could cry with happiness at finally being able to sleep in a comfortable bed and in a clean place without bugs climbing on me or grass biting me. I may be getting used to this adventurous life, but deep down I was still a homebody who loves a rainy day, being indoors, under the covers drinking hot tea and reading a good book.

I threw myself on the bed closest to the window, my muscles relaxing and a sigh of relief escaping my lips as I stretched out in bed. I stayed there for a few minutes, just feeling my body relax as I gathered the courage to get up. The receptionist told us that we could use the bathroom as much as we wanted, that the bathtub would always have hot water for a bath, and I would love to take one after all this time.

A little more rested, I lazily got out of bed, grabbed a towel also provided by the inn and headed out of the room, walking down the hallway to the end, where the bathroom door was. Entering the place, it was very simple, with a large bathtub in the center and some wooden buckets on the side. The bathtub was full and steam was coming out of the water. Great, I'm dying for a bath that will burn my soul.

I undressed and got in, feeling my skin sensitive to the heat and my muscles relax with it. I lost track of time there, but I must have stayed there for at least twenty minutes before I realized it and finished bathing. My mind, clouded by the good feeling, didn't allow me to have complex thoughts at that moment, and that was what I wanted most.

After drying myself and putting on clean clothes, I felt refreshed and ready for anything. With the towel wrapped around my hair and my dirty clothes in hand, I returned to my room, leaving my belongings in their proper places and hanging the damp towel on the balcony to dry. I could see how beautiful the day was outside through the large window, and that was enough to motivate me to go for a walk.

I left the inn quickly, taking nothing more than the bare necessities with me, my purse and wallet, because I don't know if I can resist the urge to buy a souvenir from this lovely village. Or a sweet treat at the bakery, that would be nice too. Walking through the streets bathed in the golden rays of the sun, I found myself lost in the comforting harmony that was there. It must be a good place to live, in a peaceful time.

I walked a little, about two blocks, before I heard two familiar voices talking nearby. Instinctively, I approached them, cautiously. I could recognize the voices of the Veteran and the Traveler, both having a conversation that I soon realized was personal, so I thought it best not to show myself and move away, but something about what they were talking about caught my attention, leading me to do something I'm not proud of.

— You don't have to lie to me, my brother, it's obvious that you like her. – Hyrule's words made me freeze in place, preventing me from leaving their private conversation, keeping me out of sight.

— I don't like her! You're all crazy if you think that, she means nothing to me. – Legend replied stubbornly, but even I, who haven't known him for that long, know that this was a big lie. Which made me go over it in my mind and think about who they were talking about.

— Oh, Vet, please! I saw the way you look at her, as if she were the most precious thing in the world, your eyes even shine. – The Traveler continued, sounding somewhat provocative.

— No way, you're seeing things that don't exist. – The grumpy boy replied, while I struggled to think about who they were referring to. The only viable option was the girl from the restaurant, she was the only woman we had come across in a long time.

— You can deny it all you want, but you two are the only ones who don't see it. – The other hero continued. – Believe me, walking away and denying it will only create more problems.

I couldn't hear the other's answer, because I left as quickly as I could, considering that I had already heard much more than I should have. Knowing that Legend was in love, and with a woman he had just met, is too much for me. I felt discomfort in my chest, probably because I had heard more than I should have, now I feel guilty and I don't know what to do. Maybe I should confess my sins to him, but then he would hate me even more than I believe he does.

I took a deep breath as I considered that I had distanced myself enough. Okay, I need to think on the positive side, I can use this to my advantage. I can do something for him so that he forgives whatever wrong I did, that way we can be friends again and he won't avoid me anymore! Well, then I believe I have a plan.

◇ ◇ ◇

I walked away from Hyrule when we arrived at the inn, which had already been reserved for our group. All this talk of crushes only served to make me angry, he's wrong, I would know if I liked her, and I don't. Speaking of which, it's likely that she's at the inn right now just like Sky, and I definitely didn't need to see her right now, not after all this nonsense I'd had to listen to. Trying to avoid this terrible encounter, I finally headed in the opposite direction of the inn, alone, to try to distance my mind from these thoughts.

It's been a few days since I last spoke to her, but hey, it's not my fault. I've been having some nice moments with the new girl over the past few weeks, and I was happy, until there was that fight against a group of monsters, in which I was so distracted by the good memories of our conversations, by her contagious laugh, her smile that I couldn't perform well in the battle, almost getting hurt several times because my gaze kept guiding me to her to make sure she was okay. Well, it's all her fault for needing help in the battles.

After that, I considered that it would be better to avoid her at all costs, just for this strange feeling to pass and I could concentrate like before. But man, this has been hell. Even in a short time I got used to her presence in our group, and then, less than a day without us talking and I was already torturing myself, every single thing that happened to me, my first thought was to tell her, so I had to scold myself for such a thought.

Seeing her talking to the others while I had to keep my distance was even worse, those lucky ones don't have to worry about getting distracted in battle. But maybe that's my fault, I was weak for not being able to stay focused, because apart from that my situation is the same as my brothers, isn't it?

I have to admit, she has become an important friend to me, but the Traveler is crazy if he thinks it's anything more than that, I mean, it's the same thing they feel for her too, nothing more! And now I not only have to distance myself to keep my sanity, but because I don't have the courage to talk to her, I know I must have hurt her by avoiding her, and I feel ashamed of it. But I can't say it, not yet.

My thoughts were interrupted when I felt a blow on my back, turning angrily to the person who hit me, only to completely falter to see the one I had been thinking about all this time, smiling at me like a silly child.

— Legend, I found you! Do you want to have dinner with me at that same restaurant? I really wanted to go there again. – The girl smiled excitedly.

— What? Did Team say we should eat there again? – Without much way to avoid this conversation, I just acted as if I hadn't exchanged words with my dear friend in days.

— Oh, no, I'm thinking of just the two of us going. – She answered, surprising me and making me more nervous than I would like to admit.

— Going to dinner, at a restaurant, just with you? – I said awkwardly, feeling my heart race pathetically for no reason. I had to look away, unable to look her in the eyes, probably because I had been so rude all this time.

— Yes, please! – She answered me and I felt forced to look at her again, only to see the look of an abandoned dog, begging for it, hitting all my weak points.

— Geez, okay, I'll go. – I agreed, feigning irritation to hide my nervousness.

She seemed satisfied with this, starting to walk in the direction of the restaurant and I saw no other option but to follow her. We weren't very far away, and since I had been walking around all day we didn't get lost either, so we were soon at the door of the establishment.

We entered together, and there was already a movement in the place, but we managed to get a table for two easily, it seems she had already booked it before. This makes me wonder if she had been planning this, a dinner, just the two of us, for a long time. I shook my head to get those thoughts out of my head and focused my attention on the menu in front of me. From what I understood, she wanted to come back here to try different dishes, so I would go for it.

My decision was interrupted when I saw her suddenly stand up, saying she was going to the bathroom or "something like that" and that I could order. She left, going into one of the corridors of the place and disappearing. I sighed tiredly, feeling my face heat up, I hadn't realized how being alone with her made me so nervous, at least this distance was able to give me time to think. Thinking about how all of this is making me feel strange, it was different from the guilt I thought I was feeling, it's much stronger. At the same time that I feel so awkward in this woman's presence, I can't see myself away from her, because this thought makes my heart ache.

— Would the handsome man like to propose? — A blonde woman, an employee of the place, asked me, with a suggestive tone in her voice, which made me frown in disgust.

— Hm, no, I'm waiting for someone.

— Oh, there's no need to be shy, I know you're interested. — She continued, too bold for my taste.

— I don't know where you got that from, but you're wrong, I already like someone else. — I answered, admitting what I had noticed a few minutes ago without a hint of regret.

— Hm, really? But your friend said you had a crush on me, sweetie.

— What? — I asked a little incredulous, and then I looked in the direction the woman was pointing, and, through the window, I could see the beautiful eyes that I had fallen for spying on us both, and hiding when they realized they had been noticed.

I sighed, holding back a laugh and at the same time frustrated. What did she do?

◇◇◇

I hid as fast as I could, moving away from the window, hoping I wouldn't be noticed. I had a plan, and it was a great plan, okay? I talked to the blonde girl, Amy, and told her that my friend had a crush on her, and if she couldn't give him a chance. God, she was arrogant, conceited and looked me up and down as if to say "Of course he liked me and not you!" I wanted to kill myself for going ahead with that idea, but it was for Legend, I wanted to see him happy.

So, I swallowed all my pride, and all the heartache I was feeling, and went after the girl to continue with my fake cupid plan. I guess it's kind of shitty when Cupid is in love with you, and yes, I admitted to myself, the reason this grumpy boy is in my thoughts all the time, the reason I always want to fight for his attention, for his smile, I ended up developing a crush on him. And I torture myself for it.

The restaurant door opened, revealing the aforementioned guy, coming out with a not very happy expression, he didn't say anything, he just grabbed me by the arm and dragged me away from the place. My heart raced nervously, he must be furious with me right now and I didn't know what to say, it was all my fault to begin with. But I thought she would at least give him a chance.

— What are you-

— Please, I'm sorry about that! I overheard your conversation with Rulie and found out that you had a crush on that girl and since you've been avoiding me lately I thought you might be mad at me, so I thought that by helping you with her maybe you'd forgive me for whatever I did and then you'd talk to me again, because I miss talking to you and you're very important to me and I just wanted to see you happy! – I said everything quickly, without even taking a breath, looking away for fear of how he would react.

Then, a silence, which lasted for a while, the only thing that made me look at him again was the sun of his sweet laugh reaching my ears.

— What are you talking about? I don't like that woman, I don't even know who she is! You got it all wrong, the woman I fell for was you, idiot. – Legend said, leaving me speechless, my brain struggling to process what he said.

My cheeks heated up when I finally began to understand what he was talking about, my heart in turn seemed to have gone faster in this regard, accelerating even before I understood the situation. I felt breathless, forgetting to breathe due to so much surprise, my thoughts meandering through all the events, replaying each one of them, but now with this additional information that made everything make sense, that took a great weight off my shoulders and the anguish from my chest.

— Oh, Hylia, thank goodness, I was dying of jealousy while I was doing that, I just didn't want to admit it! – It was the first thing that came out of my lips, while I sighed in relief, only then did I realize that this wasn't what I should say in a situation like this. – I mean...

— You really are an idiot, you know that? – Link interrupted me, approaching me and touching my face gently, pulling me closer so he could place a soft, warm kiss on my lips, which took me by surprise. I was initially lost, but soon I was returning the gesture happily, I felt on cloud nine being in his arms and my heart was pounding, happier than ever. – My idiot.

#link x reader #linked universe x reader #lu x reader #x reader #lu legend x reader #legend of zelda #linked universe #linked universe fanfic #tloz #my first one shot hehe #I don't think this is very good sorry #I have a lot to improve

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