#men will choose to fly to another country

[ryukisgod]

“Patriarchy hurts men too,” okay, does white supremacy hurt whites too?

Does capitalism hurt the bourgeoisie?

Does colonialism hurt the colonists?

[winterwandersland]

This is another idea that I've been working with. It's been in my documents for like two months now. This is also unedited, but I do want to make it another story. If I do choose to extend it to a full story, I will revise this chapter. Just trying to see how much traction it may get for rn.

Simon Riley x Black!Fem!Reader Call of Duty x The Walking Dead x The Last of Us? Word Count: 2k cw: shooting, blood, being handcuffed It just started out as a pandemic, but then the virus began to mutate. The dead was now living, well, sort of. Sane human beings craved food, but those things...they craved people and any living creature they could get their hands on. You found a farm during your travels to safety and have kept shelter there ever since. One day while hunting for food, you come across a group of men that you are sure were going to kill you, but as you continue to be in their presence, you aren't so sure. Will they take you with them and protect you like they do in the movies you used to watch as a child or will they put you through a hell worse than the world you now lived in?

It was the dead of summer, meaning that the walkers were more sparse, some of them moving in herds across the land. You had been alone for many months now, unable to contact any friends and family. Quite frankly, you hoped they were dead. Then, they wouldn’t have to face the ugliness of the world.

It was hard to find clean sources of water, many of the water sources being tainted with walker blood and guts. The CDC had suspected a virus in the water tanks, advising everyone to ensure their water was being filtered properly. A small town had had a few suspicious deaths, no one knowing what caused it. A few deaths turned to hundreds and hundreds turned to thousands. Only a couple of states had declared martial law before the rest of the country followed suit. Within a few weeks, the country was at war, along with other nations. The only content was the news broadcasting of the dead coming back to life. At first, you scoffed, but that was until you witnessed it yourself.

You almost died when you were up against your first walker, but the few self-defense classes you took in your teenage years had paid off. Now, it had been months and nearing winter, and over half of the world population was undead—dead, but alive enough to still have basic needs like hunger. Two months had passed since you had seen another live human being.

The end of the world had brought about a side of you that you didn’t know existed. A will to live that you thought you had lost a long time ago. Actions you would have considered disgusting and vile now became part of your survival’s guide. Thanks to the books you found in the untouched library, you could stack up on some hunting manuals and more books to keep you entertained. You dreaded the coming of winter, but you did everything you could to stock up on food and supplies, staying at a farmhouse further in the country. To your surprise, no one had come that far and from the amount of walkers, anyone who did seemed to not have made it too far.

Animals were almost extinct. Everyday, it seemed harder to find food to eat. The farm had been beneficial for growing crops and having clean water. You dreaded the day walkers came across it and it was you against them, but you tried not to think about it too much.

To venture south was a suicide mission by yourself. As much as you wanted to check if your family was alive, you knew it was better to keep the idea of them alive than to have the knowledge that they were dead. Outside, the farmland was almost pure woods plagued with the undead. Occasionally, you’d scour them to see if any source of food was left. There wasn’t. Birds hardly flew past the window anymore and you were never fast enough to catch them, your hunting skills not being up to par with flying prey.

It had been a few weeks since you’d checked the woods for food, so you figured you’d give it a go given the herd of walkers seemed to be migrating. You crept around the trees, watching every step to make sure you didn’t do so much as step on a twig. The crunching of the leaves was loud enough. Learning to use a gun would have drawn the walkers to you, so you spent your months mastering the art of the blade. You weren’t an expert quite yet, but you were much better than you were a few months ago.

You hid behind a tree and used a tree spile to collect water rather than carrying the weight of a bottle with you on your runs. Your body stayed steady, using minimal movement to angle your head below the spout as you drank the water.

Leaves shuffled behind you, startling you enough to quickly collect your spile and bring out the military grade knife you found at the tactical store not too far from your old neighborhood. You had emptied it out as much as you could before it was overrun by walkers and other survivors. Knowing the evils of mankind from apocalypse movies, you made sure they didn’t see you leave, and if they did, they couldn’t catch you once you entered your vehicle.

You caught a flash of movement and tracked it as best as you could without being noticed. Staying quiet and keeping low, you tread softly towards the movement to identify what or who it was. A squirrel. Before it could move anymore, you threw your knife at it, striking it in the head. It had been almost a week since you had eaten. Your stomach felt like it was eating away at itself.

A squirrel was a delicacy nowadays. Any meat was. You dug in, cutting just past the skin layer to peel it back, revealing the flesh hidden beneath it. Cutting past the ribs was the easiest part and once it was done, you practically ate at the squirrel like it was meat on bone. The smells no longer bothered you and the blood on your face was an afterthought. You���ll clean up once you get back to the farm.

“I see another one!” a deep, accented voice yelled. You turned your head to try to identify the direction of the voice, but your ears rang from the bullet that grazed past your head. “Fuck!” you shouted loud enough for only you to hear. You stayed low, dropping the squirrel and running deeper into the woods.

  A few more shots fired in your direction, one grazing your non-dominant arm. You ran as fast as you could away from your home. One man turned to two and two turned to three, and three turned to four as you heard more running towards you. Another shot fired and you fell to the ground, clutching the side of your head. Your hand filled with blood as you applied pressure to the wound, but your vision became blurry as you pulled yourself to the nearest tree. The voices came closer, and you drew your knife, again, but your body became too weak for you to hold it up. Everything moved slower than your eyes moved.

“Fuckin’ hell,” you heard a deep, very British, accent say before your vision was no longer light and only darkness.

***

“She’s still alive,” one man said as he placed two fingers on your neck to feel for your heartbeat. You opened your eyes to see four men surrounding you and immediately tried to launch yourself at the one with the mohawk, but your wrist was viciously pulled back by the handcuffs that kept one of your wrists attached to a familiar pipe.

“Calm down. We aren’t gonna hurt you,” the man with a boonie-style hat said. You scanned the men who you knew could pin you down at any moment. One had on a skull mask, ahead of season for the fall time, and the upcoming Halloween holiday, the only holiday you once enjoyed celebrating. He lurked over everyone else. He was the biggest of them, followed by the man with the beard and hat. The other two weren’t much smaller, but their difference was noticeable.

“Get the fuck away from me!” You tried to release your hand from the pipe, but it only drew more blood and made your hand ache even more. Your screams echoed as you used all of your force to try and pry yourself out of the handcuffs. Your feet were planted on the wall, trying your hardest to release yourself.

“That won’t do you any good,” the mohawk man said. “Fuck you!” You continued to try and rip your hand out of the cuffs, but the more you did, the more blood that trickled down your arm and into the crease of your elbow.

The large man with the mask knelt down beside you and his fingers pressed into the sides of your face as he grabbed it. Your lip quivered and a tear dragged down your face as he roughly turned your head to face him. To avoid his piercing stare, you closed your eyes, more tears streaming down your face.

He didn’t say anything as he pulled out a cloth that clearly had not been cleaned in a while. You could feel the pressure of the cloth on your face, wiping away at the blood that you forgot stained your face. His hand was warm, the first physical contact you had in nearly a year. While he was rough when wiping your cheeks, his touch became more gentle once he moved towards your lips. His touch became light and slow, the most gentle he had been.

He momentarily let go of your face to dump some water from his canister onto the cloth. You opened your eyes for a split second and closed them again once his hand was back on your face. He was rougher now, applying more pressure to cure your stained lips. You didn’t say anything and allowed him to clean your face to satisfy whatever sick and twisted needs he had. His grip on your face loosened and he used his thumb to gently wipe at the salty water drops that made their way down your face and into the palm of his hand. “Shh, we aren’t gonna hurt you.”

The other three had left you and the man alone to ransack the kitchen, leaving you more scared than you were before. You turned your face away from him, shaking even more than when the men first arrived. The adrenaline kept you from feeling the pain of the flesh wounds along your arm and head. “This is my house. You can’t have it.”

“So you do speak.” You tried to kick him, but he grabbed your foot, throwing it back at you. “This really your house?” You nodded your head, keeping eye contact with the brute man. “We’re not here for it. Just food. You can keep your house. Let me clean your wounds.” He reached for your arm, but you pulled away, not being able to go far because you were still cuffed.

“What’s your name?” You stayed silent, only keeping eye contact with the man, hoping he would go away. Only a small huff of breath left your lungs while you still caught your breath from struggling with the cuffs and pipe. “Don’t speak then. I don’t care. Give me your arm.” He tried to grab at you again, but you pulled back, making him more upset. “Let me help you and then we will leave.”

“You shot me…twice.”

“Did you see the way you were eating that squirrel? We thought you were one of the dead.”

“I ran away.”

“Some of them aren’t that bright. Thought you were one of them.”

The other three men came back into the room, halting you and the skull man’s conversation. “There’s no food.”

“Yea. It’s her house,” the man with the mask said.

“If we had known that, we wouldn’t have come here. She speak, yet?”

The masked man looked at your pleading eyes and returned his gaze back to the team. “No.”

“A shame,” the man with the funny hair said. “Sorry for shootin’ ya. You eat like one of the dead. When was the last time you had a meal?” You continued to just stare at the man, your silence answering his question. “That long, huh?

You tried not to look any of the men in the eye and only turned your body towards the man with the mask. “Why didn’t you clean her wounds?”

“She wouldn’t let me.”

TO BE CONTINUED

[gojo-enthusiast]

Master Zenin - Toji Fushiguro Series — Reblog & Like🫶🏻 read more at the link above👆🏻🖤

Chapter One

“Mr. Zenin asked for us to escort the woman to the care unit, located on the east wing of his estate.” A man say into his phone. You had a blind fold, and cuffs on. You felt something stuffed in your mouth, some sort of cloth. You had just started waking up from the stuff they had put over your nose when they caught you at the refuge center.

“Mmgh-mmgh!” You’re groaning, trying to get the cloth out of your mouth. “Hey, calm down back there.” The man who you are guessing is driving, says to you. “Sir, what will they do with the woman?” You hear another unfamiliar voice ask. “Oh you’re a newbie. The leader we are taking her too has about 150 slaves, 50 of them are slave girls. Some are solely just for cooking, house keeping, maintaining the mansion. But some of the others are for his personal use. If you know what I mean.” The first man says with a chuckle.

“Everything changed when the Zenins and Gojo Clan took over and won the war. They own half of the states, enforcing this new way of life. Luckily guys like us didn’t get the short end of the stick.” He adds.

That’s what happened, after years of the Zenin Clan and Gojo Clan were at war, in the end they wanted the same thing, and that— was power. They put their heads together and came up with a life where there were -Masters or Leaders. A group of men who they came into the idea as well, investing time, money, and even their lives to make happy. A group of men who run as Presidents over half of the states now, the other half of the states being completely shut off, not fighting back. Because it’s safer to let them do as they please, than to have anymore blood shed.

Toji Zenin, Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, and Kento Nanami, being the leaders over this new nation, enslaving all people who weren’t from their choosing. From the ages of 15-55, you were whatever they say you were. Delegating you to specific homes of the other masters that were below them, but keeping the ones they really wanted, for themselves. Then in turn the masters or leaders told you your role in their home, you were either one of the many staff, or their personal play thing, until ultimately they got bored.

Satoru Gojo— he had the most slaves out of all of the leaders. But not the biggest estate. That was Toji Zenin, his mansion and land was 300 acres in total, having his ginormous glamorous mansion, with a built in hospital wing. He was lavish, he screamed money, he screamed Master Zenin.

Suguru Geto was the most modest, he had a mansion himself, but it was very earthy, very cottage feel. He had about 75 slaves, he tends to stay to himself unless Satoru his best friend is over, or he’s over at his home. They spent a lot of times “sharing” slaves.

Kento Nanami was the pickiest, he had a private estate, not flashy but it was big, but you couldn’t see it until you drove for about a mile or 2. No one knew how many slaves he had, because he simply had no reason to leave his humble abode unless it was for their meetings.

But here you are, you had been on the run for years. You and your parents and sister spent the night talking about how this was going to play out. Your parents cried, saying that they were only able to secure 3 seats on a plane flying out of the country. Having to decide which child to bring, and which child to leave behind for suffering, your dad crying, saying he will stay. But you simply knew your dad was to sick, the cancer that he was dying from, he needed treatment, and your mother needed to be with her husband, and care for your little sister. So you made the decision to stay, and be on the run while your family is living a life of freedom. It had been 2 years, you had successfully stayed alive and not captured. Until one day, one of the refugee hideouts under ground was found and raided. Here you were, in the back of a car, or van, you didn’t know. Waiting to be put into someone home, the only question you now had, was…

Who’s?

[inlovewithalotoffandoms]

Quitting?

Scott McCall x Sister!Reader

Stiles Stilisnki x Fem!Reader

Summary: With the help of your brother Scott, Stiles finds out the true "identity" of your "manager", and you confront him.

"Why won't Billy let her go overseas?"

"Sacurity Stilinski, you know that."

"BS! Billy is killing his greatest asset without a reason. So what's the reason?"

"Loomis always has his reasons."

Stiles scoffed and walked out of the room. He then decided to go see Scott for help.

"Stiles, Y/N's not here."

"I was actually looking for Scott."

"Scott's not home either. He went with Y/N."

"Did they tell you where?"

"No. Sorry Stiles but i really have to go to work."

"I think I know where they could be. Thanks Mellisa."

He then went straight to the one place he knows where you are. He opened the door to see you, Scott and Billy talking. When you looked over your shoulder and saw him you ran and kissed him.

"Stiles, hey. Oh I missed you so much."

"Missed you more."

"Uhh, big brother and the manger still here."

Time Skip

"Y/N, hey babe, wait up!" Stiles called out as he ran to catch up to you in the school hallway.

"What is it, Stiles? I gotta go." You tell him.

"He lied," Stiles stated as he got straight to the point.

"Who?" You asked.

"Billy, he lied. There wasn't going to be an International tour because he can't leave the country. He's got no citizenship, no official identity. He's got no passport, no bank account. He doesn't freaking exist." The sarcastic boy ranted.

"Whatcha talkin' 'bout, Stiles?" You asked in an accent.

"He's saying that Billy has been lying to you this whole time." Scott jumped in as he rounded the corner.

Time Skip

"Oh, you blood-suckin' old vampire. You bled me dry, and you still want more?"

"I'm not an uncaring man, Ms McCall."

"Don't you 'Ms McCall' me, you toad!"

"If you are so determined to get out of our contract-"

"You're damn right I want out!"

"Well, I will personally loan you the money that you owe to Jamboree Attractions."

"You-You still have your claws on me! You still have me working here like a damn slave in a salt mine! You phoney, no good piece of trash! And I'll shoot you in your freaking face if I have to!"

After a moment of silence, you spoke up again, "Billy, who are you?"

"I am you, you are me."

"Cut the horse-shit! Everything I've ever known about you's been a lie!"

"Y/N/N, you all good?"

"My past is the least of your problems, my dear. Everyone else you associate with lives from you Y/N, even Scott..That's right even your own Brother has looked after himself before he's looked after you. Yes, I have lived from you too but the difference is you have also lived from me." He then continued, "We have supported each other because we share the dream. We are the same you and I."

"We are not the same! I was innocent before you cane along and screwed me up!"

"I'm out. I'm getting the money and you are gonna leave me, my brother and my mother alone. You got the Billy? If that even is your name."

The was another moment of silence before the older men spoke up again, "Maybe you should fly away, my dear. Away from all of this, but. If you do choose to leave, then I for one would be very lonely, so would your mother and brother. But I think you may be lonely too or you'll see, my girl the truth about the rock of eternity...It is forever, just beyond her reach."

"Hey, Billy!, f u!"

[harryshairclippy]

I just realized there is absolutely no way I would be able to make an end of the year fic rec because it would just be tooooo long. I'm splitting things up for the first half of the year!!

I'll Fly Away - @juliusschmidt - 122K

Harry and Louis grew up together in Lake County, Harry with his mom and stepdad in a tiny cottage on Edward’s Lake and Louis in his family’s farmhouse a few minutes down the road. But after high school, Louis stuck around and Harry did not; Harry went to Chicago where he found a boyfriend and couple of college degrees. Six years later, Harry ends up back in Edwardsville for the summer and he and Louis fall into old patterns and discover new ones.

ft. One Direction, the local boyband; Horan’s Bar and Grill; families, most especially children and babies; Officer Liam Payne; many local festivals and fireworks displays; and Anne Cox, PFLAG President.

I Don't Wanna Face The Music - @hereforh - 95K

Louis likes to think he's a pretty normal, typical lad. He likes spending nights at the pub with his mates, he loves football and is very close to his family. So when he moves to London for uni, he doesn’t think much will be different.

Until he makes these new friends who are nothing like his mates back home and change his life for the better - and this one boy who messes with his head from the get go and makes him question everything he has ever thought about himself.

Stranger Stars - @sunshineandhisrainbows - 212K

Five years ago, Africa offered a grieving Louis Tomlinson an escape from an England he couldn't tolerate. Now it's become home as he leads overland tours across the continent with his best friend and driver Zayn Malik. What's meant to be just another ordinary six-week trip from Cape Town to Nairobi turns into anything but, when future lawyer/current photographer and songwriter Harry Styles and his friends join Louis' latest set of passengers.

Mine Would Be You - @crinkle-eyed-boo - 114K

Louis blinks his eyes open, his eyelids fluttering as the room swims around him. He takes several gulps of beer once he confirms that he’s definitely not hallucinating, that the very first portrait Harry Styles ever painted of him is hanging on that wall.

Louis stares at the wall, his heart jackrabbiting in his chest as he realizes that there’s not just one painting of him, there’s five, the portraits lined up like they’re some sort of storyboard depicting the rise and fall of his deepest love. His greatest heartache. A pain that cut him so deep that he left the fucking country, severing all ties with his life in New York, now suddenly surrounding him as if he’d never left.

Fucking shit motherfucker fuck.

Louis returns to New York City five years after he left it – and the love of his life – behind. He didn't intend to see Harry again, but fate has a funny way of pulling them together, whether they like it or not. After making a begrudging truce, they both start to wonder: Would it be so bad if history repeated itself?

Perfect Storm - @cherrystreet - 80K

What do you do when your best friend asks you and your (now) ex to be the best men at his destination wedding? You can either tell him the truth, tell him you’re not together anymore, and deal with the consequences, or you can pretend you’re still together and roll with it, just pray you don’t spiral. Fake it ‘til you make it. You know, for the sake of the wedding.

Harry and Louis choose the latter.

Golden - @sunshineandhisrainbows - 128K

Harry is fully dressed when Louis returns to the room. He’s slumped on the edge of the bed, fingers twining awkwardly around the edge of his pink flounces. “Can I come?” he blurts when Louis opens the bathroom door. Louis freezes. “What?” “North. With you,” Harry clarifies. “If you’re going north, could I come too?”

On a rainy night in Auckland in the middle of his world tour, popstar Harry Styles loses his ability to carry on. Instead of continuing to Sydney and the rest of his tour, he seeks sanctuary with Louis Tomlinson, a man with a macadamia nut farm and a mysterious past.

Sun Means The Sky'll Be Blue - @moonhusbands - 91K

As the only singleton under thirty attending his cousin's five-day wedding, Harry is desperate to find a date, or at least a reason to get people's questions about his love life off his back. So when Louis, Harry's old uni roommate and fellow wedding attendee waltzes back into his life, Harry seizes the opportunity, pretending Louis is his ex-boyfriend and that it's a sore subject not to be mentioned.

If it's a little bit closer to the truth than Harry would like, well, he's a master at living in denial.

So cue a mess of trudged-up feelings, past misunderstandings, a rekindled summer romance and a whole lot of sexually-charged bickering.

Being of the Jealous Kind - @louisandtheaquarian - 24K

A-list actor Louis Tomlinson and his partner fashion photographer Harry Styles weather the storm that is Louis’ fake relationship with his costar in the lead up to this year’s Academy Awards.

Featuring a fluffy teenage meet-cute, an angsty wine drunk Harry melting down over pap pics, Louis habitually overusing the word “baby,” and cameos by a vintage Umbro sweatshirt, the peace ring, and one hell of a Larry hug.

Or the justice for To Be So Lonely fic. Based on the lyrics to TBSL and a prompt where “Louis has to fake date some celebrity, while his boyfriend Harry sits at home.”

Late Night Talking - @kingsofeverything - 53K

Louis Tomlinson has a new album coming out and a second world tour on the horizon. Promo season gets underway with a stop at Late Night Talking, the late night show hosted by Harry Styles, and Harry Styles just happens to be the man who blew a chance to date Louis a decade ago.

With A Little Kindness - @jacaranda-bloom - 33K

The man lays his hand on Harry’s forearm and Harry looks up as the stranger leans in. “I just wanted to say,” he whispers. “Can I cover your bill? I’m a big believer in paying it forward and I can see you’re struggling. It’s none of my business, of course, but I’d really like to help.”

OR the one where Harry is a struggling single parent who doesn’t have time for relationships and Louis is a generous stranger who is unlucky in love, until fate decides to step in and bring them together.

Loved By Your Mother - @gaymoustache - 31K

Harry stretches out like Venus with her lover, growing sleepy in the late afternoon light with a baby growing inside her. Perhaps not literally, not physically. Not exactly.

or

Harry struggles to come to terms with wanting to have children, and what that means for their relationship. Canon compliant, set a few years into the future.

you taught me how to love (i taught you how to stop) - @thedevilinmybrain - 50K

"I was always better at hand to hand than you," Harry growls, even as he leans his weight into the blade. It's small, sharp, has a handle of gold roses.

"I don't know about that." Louis moves his arm forward, makes the presence of the barrel of the gun fit snugly to Harry's hip. "I think we just play differently."

"You going to shoot me?" Harry asks, those wild eyes tracking over Louis' face. "Do it."

"I think I've put enough scars on you," Louis answers, means it about the stretch marks still lining the sides of Harry's stomach, but it lands a little too raw. There are other scars on Harry's body that Louis blames himself for, scars inside too.

your memory over me - @shimmeringevil - 64K

Three years have passed since Louis last saw him, but all it took was a few minutes in Harry’s presence for him to be relegated to the desperate twenty-one year old that was practically begging his boyfriend for an ounce of reassurance that he still cared about him.

Harry shouldn’t be here. He’s brought too many unresolved feelings with him, that Louis thought he’d never have to face.

It’s Harry’s apparent apathy that’s the most difficult to come to terms with. Anger, he could handle. Regret, he would welcome. But Harry’s amiability, and carefree demeanor can only be born from indifference.

He’s moved on. He doesn’t care. And that is something Louis doesn’t think he’ll ever be strong enough to face.

-

OR - The worst heartbreak of Louis’ life walks right back into it when his parents invite their family friends on an all-expenses-paid trip for their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. Facing a past that he tried to bury long ago, Louis learns that some people have a way of sticking with you even when they’re gone.

knock knock, i love you - @beautlouis - 86K

“Well,” Louis says, searching for something to relieve this tension. “I think if a bloke gets kicked out of his stats exam for a knock knock joke, he deserves to hear the punchline, yeah?”

“Oh!” Harry says, beaming. “I forgot where we left off, what was it again?” He looks overjoyed to be exchanging a shit joke.

“Ah, you said knock knock, then I said who’s there, and then you said Noah,” Louis supplies helpfully. He hates that he's actually curious about the rest of the joke. “So, Noah who?”

“Oh,” says Harry, in a much different tone, dragging out the syllable. He looks bashful now. Louis cannot keep up with this boy, it's going to kill him. “Right, well.” He shuffles his feet. Fuck, what kind of knock knock joke gets a boy nervous? “Noah a good place we could get something to eat?”

[Harry and Louis get kicked out of a statistics exam for passing a knock knock joke note, and subsequently fall in love. Harry's a virgin, there's a cat, a hot cocoa date, a lot of sex, even more knock knock jokes, and everything is lovely and happy.]

i'm a captain on a jealous sea - @thedevilinmybrain - 15K

It’s not that Louis doesn’t like Nick. He is, if he’s being honest, kind of indifferent. Louis gets that Nick is just doing his job most of the time, being loud and prying, not having boundaries. But it’s just a little too much for Louis’ taste. Louis, who has learned over the years, when to be loud and when to know that coy is the game. But, it doesn’t matter really. He’s not required to like everyone, doesn’t have to make nice with them outside of having a camera shoved in his face. He can let Nick be Nick and it shouldn’t affect Louis at all.

Except.

What Louis actually has a problem with is the way Nick Grimshaw looks at Harry.

One More Time Again - orphan_account - 232K

Harry looks down to where Louis is cradling his hand between his own. Louis' hands are slender, the bones delicate, the nails bitten short. The 2-8 on the backs of his fingers is gone, but the faded scar from a skateboarding mishap in Year 7 is still there.

Harry's hand is awkward, knobby-boned and naked, no rings, no tattoos. It's too big for his wrist and his wrist too big for his arm. Yet it still somehow fits in Louis' in the painfully perfect way it always did.

He blinks back the sting in his eyes.

On the morning of his second sold-out performance at Madison Square Garden, Harry wakes up to find that he's sixteen years old, on The X Factor, and that he has a chance to make things right.

A canon-compliant fix-it fic (sort of).

Darling, so it goes - @disgruntledkittenface - 195K

Harry Styles is a world-famous actor at the height of his career but a personal low point when he meets His Serene Highness Prince Louis of Monaco by chance. He doesn’t think they’ll ever see each other again, but after striking up a correspondence, it turns out they have more in common than he thought. Then they start to fall for each other. Louis is different from anyone Harry has dated before and their relationship moves fast as Harry realizes he’s ready for a change. Soon Harry finds himself adapting to an entirely new life, in a country where he doesn’t know the rules, the customs, even the language. Harry is used to people underestimating him, and he’s more determined than ever to prove them wrong.

He just needs Louis to meet him halfway.

Grace Kelly AU.

Sweetest Devotion - @brightgolden - 61K

After his divorce, all Harry wants in life is to provide a stable, loving environment for his three-year-old daughter, Evie.

Never in his wildest dreams has he ever considered that life might come with the presence of his teenage crush — Gemma’s friend from secondary school, Louis Tomlinson.

Luckily, Harry isn’t still pining over him.

Or so he thought.

Went Down In Flames - @itsnotreal - 26K

Louis was in an absolutely shit storm. He had let it go on for too long. Let it go too far. But he had a plan. And tonight, said plan was going down. He was going to tell the boys he was proposing this weekend. ‘Harry’ would turn him down, albeit gently, and Louis would play the heartbroken boyfriend. He’d gotten this far. All he had to do was lock himself in his bedroom and cry a little. He’d been in a few plays growing up. Piece of cake.

Except. It didn’t go that way. Of course, it didn’t. Because the universe, the beautiful chaotic bitch that she was, just had to have an actual Harry Styles and he just had to be Niall’s best friend.

[another-corpo-rat]

Hello… do you have any head canons for Hansen to share? I was disappointed to only have one conversation with him, and you seem like a good person to ask. >:3

Me? Having ideas about the warlord? Nooo never-

Anyways here’s a list of Thoughts that I hope are vaguely coherent, though warning: they’re a tad all over the place

He was raised by his granny on his father’s side. She was actually from Serbia, and had met his grandfather when he spent some time there then moved back to America with him. His grandfather was dead before he was born, and his mother’s parents weren’t present in his life. Grandma Hansen practically raised little Kurt, his parents were career-oriented – his father a colonel and his mother held some minor political role – so their time for him was limited.

She fostered his love for her home country as she shared stories of her own childhood while tucking him in to bed, or when he was still small enough to sit on her knee. One evening she told him a story of the bauk, and boy did that plant a mild fear of the dark him. He had to sleep with a nightlight for a few weeks after.  

His granny owned a dog when he was growing up, dear ol’ Bowie. She was a big loveable mutt who was already quite old when Kurt was born. She’d sleep under his crib when he was a baby, and would walk shakily alongside him as he was taking his first steps. Almost every photo of baby Kurt has Bowie in it, up until he was four years old and she passed.

He got to choose their next pet dog when he was eight, it was a mean looking bastard he named Titan. The Barghest symbol is based on him.

His gran died just before he got promoted to colonel. It broke his heart that she didn’t get to see it, because she was so excited to see him get the recognition he deserved. He took her ashes back to Serbia, promised that he’d visit when he could. He hasn’t been able to visit for a while.

His dad’s dead by the time Barghest is finding its feet, his mother gets removed from her position while Myers is simultaneously airing her very public condemning of her son’s actions. Nothing’s heard from her since. She’s probably dead too tbh.

Kurt’s lactose intolerant. He had to learn to like his coffee black, the cramps just weren’t worth it. (weakling)

Damn though can this man handle his drink. He can hold eye contact and not make a face as he downs vodka straight from the bottle. His men get a good laugh when he blames them and their shit for it. Tbh he’s only partially joking

Kurt when he hears the bullshit Yuri tries to pull:

His right arm is a recent cybernetic only gotten in the past year or two, meanwhile his left was standard militech-issued at the time he was serving. He suffered a relatively minor injury during training and took the opportunity to get an upgrade.

He’s rather wary of netrunners, esp more combat oriented ones. While he appreciates their effectiveness and utility, he always has an edge of caution around them and takes particular care to keep them either charmed or afraid, whatever keeps them from potentially acting against him.

During Operation: Midnight Storm, there was always this quiet wariness to Hansen and his men when an Arasaka AV would fly close to their position. Each time they waited in absolute silence, dreading to hear ‘Code: A.S’ over the comms Some of the younger, braver, stupid men were biting at the bit for it, Hansen wasn’t keen to be added to Arasaka’s graveyard by Smasher.

He’s a light sleeper. He doesn’t particularly struggle in getting to sleep, it’s just that a pin dropping can wake him

He’s quite Spartan in regards to his personal possessions – his room lacks a lot of personal touch, there’s really nothing that signifies it as Kurt’s beyond the small collection of knives and guns on display. If anything it could be mistaken as another storage room. Even the bed, while fucking massive, isn’t comfortable beyond measure, the mattress is stiff and the pillows memory foam.

He listens to the same music on repeat and has done for the past few years. I’m inflicting my personal tastes on him and saying his favs includes Biffy Clyro (x), Iron Maiden (x), and Black Sabbath (x)

Even though he could get actual real meat he still prefers the taste of synth-beef, it’s what he grew up knowing. Probably eats more pot noodles than he should, but he’s a busy man and they’re quick and filling

Because I think it’s funny and would rile Johnny up something fierce: Kurt…appreciates Silverhand’s actions back in ’23. He’s well aware Silverhand got the nuke from Militech and is a massive fucking hypocrite but hey, isn’t everyone? He wouldn’t be where he is now if Johnny didn’t get that ball a-rolling.

Barghest does have a militant structure, a very clear hierarchy of who’s in charge of who, but it’s a lot more casual? In how they speak with each other. Even with Kurt. He makes them see him as a person and not this mighty figurehead. He jokes around with recruits, might ruffle one’s hair in passing after knocking the shit outta them and giving them pointers on their footing. It’s partially real affection for the people under his command, and another part is simple manipulation – he wants to give them something real to tether their loyalty to, wants them to see him as a man, a terrifying, brutal bastard at times but nonetheless a man, and not the untouchable better-than-you titan the higher-ups at the NUSA always painted themselves as.

Speaking of brutality – it’s something I feel like the game didn’t really show of his. Even V seems quite flippant towards his threat of sending them back in body bags – Hansen’s hands were tied that particular night as he didn’t want to cause a scene in front of his guests. Bad for PR and all that. But the worst of his punishments make the corps look tame. He doesn’t immediately execute; he tortures until there’s nothing left of the person from fingernails to spirit. And then their bodies are just tossed in the disposal units. Though, public executions on his order aren’t all that uncommon either.

Not so much a headcanon as a thought: I genuinely don’t know what would have happened to Songbird had Kurt’s plans gone perfect. Maybe he might’ve let her fly away, let the little bird go on to the stars, keep his word and all that. But it’d be just as easy to make her disappear; she’s dangerous, a living weapon that’s he’s already got his use out of. A loose end who knows too much. I wouldn’t be surprised if the freedom he’d have given her was a bullet to the brain.

Knife play! Blood kink! Choking kink!! He also likes pulling hair a lot

He gets put on the back foot quite quickly if his partner takes charge, he’s used to being expected to take on that role, but he recovers and indulges quick enough

He runs hot, just an absolute radiator of a man who’d probably be great to cuddle with if NC wasn’t in a fucking desert.

He’s distressingly touch-starved and would probably sink into a proper hug like a warm bath.

While he is very much alive and well in Victoria’s canon, I do like to think that following his death certain information was transferred to NetWatch pertaining to Songbird and what Myers had her do beyond the Blackwall. Fucking her over even when he’s gone, a last little fuck you as he still somehow manages to get the last laugh.

[therealslimshakespeare]

Hello! Just here with a couple of Maureen thoughts, which I feel you may have hinted at before.

I think to actually make it in any sort of armed forces, as a woman and in the time period, Maureen would most certainly have to be mature, level-headed and serious during at least a some point in her tenure. We have not seen her pre-war, or even in basic training or during missions. To put your life on the line for your country is not a light or joking thing - that’s a very mature and level-headed decision.

Just because she had breaking point in the Stalag doesn’t mean she’s a bad person, doesn’t mean she’s irredeemable, doesn’t mean she isn’t serious. I know personally that if my whole life and character was judged on my worst day, my worst actions, I probably wouldn’t have many friends. I don’t think any of us would.

Was it tough to see her be so callused? To be so selfish? Yes, for sure. But watch any HBO war series and you’ll see that people are human, people make mistakes, they endanger their closest friends and the people they fought alongside, because war is pure hell and sometimes you just can’t take another minute.

Oh wow this was just -wow Nonnie, this was deep and kind and entirely how I hope and intend things to read. You’re right regarding all these things about what sort of character is needed to even get into the army, even if you joined up half cocked, it required discipline and guts to get through.

I feel like this is where we go off on Bucky Egan, Hambone, etc -yes they’re crazies, yes they had flair and some belligerence but they were also intelligent men, respected their commissions and took their responsibilities seriously. And sometimes they snapped under the pressure of it all -like you said, god forbid we get judged on our worst day.

Also, I feel like it’s a matter of not being able to choose your war, it’s one thing to volunteer to fight and fly and risk your life, but to disintegrate in a compound is quite another thing to ask someone to bear steadfastly. There have been those who have done it, they should try to, but it’s true some people snap. And personally, I can’t stomach female characters who do not mimic humans, if you’ve got 10% of men snapping, I want to see the equality of 10% of women doing the same.



Anyway, this is just babbling on top of your very eloquent point and I just wanna say thank you so much for sharing!!

[yaminobean]

It's been so long since I've read Black Jack but tonight, I feel like sharing my insight and how I'd rewrite the story of Kei Kisaragi.

Kisaragi's story is that he started off as a woman named Megumi that also studied medicine at the same school a young black Jack did. Kisaragi developed feelings for Jack but was then diagnosed with ovarian cancer that had spread to his uterus. Jack makes a now outdated speech on how he'd have to choose between his womanhood or his life. He chose to have the infected organs removed and Jack confesses that he had feelings for him but thought that after the surgery, they would disappear when Kisaragi became a man. Of course, knowing what we know now, Kei's original story would never fly today. But there's a lot of interesting concepts that you could play with to make his story shine. For example, have Kei already know he's a trans man. He's still in the closet but he's working hard to become a surgeon so he can move to another country and physically transition. He develops feelings for his classmate Jack and starts to study with him. Jack very quickly deduces that Kei has feelings for him and tells him he feels the same and responds with;

"I would be happy to take a beautiful woman out for dinner."

To Kei, this comment crushes him both mentally and emotionally. This drives him to push away from Jack. As per Black Jack bull shit, something puts Kei on the Jack's operating table. Before he goes under he comes out to jack and tells him to remove his breast along with his uterus and ovaries. Jack, in confusion and frustration, asks Kei why'd he make such a drastic change to his body and Kei opens up about his dysphoria and issues he's had with his body. Jack is still not fully understanding but operates on Kei. Before he goes under, he tells Kei that love can't blossom between two men and Kei snidely calls him dumb as the anesthetic takes effect. Kei is proven right when he sees Jack again and he is overjoyed when he sees that Jack still has feelings for him; even though Jack tries to tell himself that he does not. (Black Jack's gay panic moment.)

Thank u for listening to my mad middle of the night ramblings and good night!

[pink-pages]

Iron Widow

Spoiler alert

I picked up this book praying to god that it would be good because I spend half my life lurking around Xiran Jay Zhao’s TikTok and I didn’t want to let them down by leaving a bad review. I didn’t have to worry. Iron Widow was fucking fantabulous. It was so angry and rightfully so because that world is horrible. The most horrible thing about Huaxia is that different aspects of it are a reality for different women all over the globe. Women and even young girls are still being essentially sold as brides in some parts of the world. In other parts of the world girls are being denied an education. Even in the USA, where I live, which is supposed to be more progressive about women’s rights, women have lost the right to decide what to do with their own bodies in some states and there’s even a movement to take away women’s rights to vote. I still think that, at least from my (admittedly privileged) perspective things can still be solved nonviolently and we’re not quite at the “brutally taking over the country” level yet.

I think the most striking bit of Iron Widow for me was when Zetian realized that the folks from central command and all the soldiers were more scared of her, a woman who had only done what men had been doing for years, than a literal family annihilator. In the USA, all this push back against women’s rights to abortion and rights to vote came after a big feminist movement (#Metoo). All the men in power try to keep women downtrodden because they’re scared of women with power. Just something to think about.

Aside from the obvious feminist aspect of the book, one of the first things that I noticed about Iron Widow was the disability representation. The main character, Wu Zetian, has to use a cane to walk. I feel like physical disability representation, particularly ones that get in the way of every day mobility, are not present in YA literature much unless the book is specifically about the main character overcoming their disability. I was really happy for this type of representation. Finally a disabled character that wasn’t defined by their disability.

Another aspect of Iron Widow that I loved was the historical aspect. For one, all the place names mentioned (Sui-Tang border, Zhou province, and Ming province) were named after historical dynasties of China. I should know, my AP World History teacher made my whole class memorize the dynasties song. It’s been 5 years and it still haunts me in my sleep. Also, Wu Zetian was very clearly based off of the Empress Wu Zetian of the Tang dynasty. The Qin Zheng emperor dude was clearly based off of Shi Huangdi, China’s “first emperor.” Even his tomb in the volcano was like Shi Huangi’s tomb with the terracotta warriors. Rongdi was a word used to refer to certain tribes of people not of Han Chinese descent and the Xianbei tribe was a very important one. I’m sure there are more historical Easter eggs, I just didn’t notice them.

Iron Widow is the first YA book I’ve read that features a polyamorous relationship and I personally love it. I think the dynamics between Yizhi, Shimin, and Zetian are perfect. An added bonus is that I didn’t have to read about some dumb fighting over the girl part or “oh no, who should I choose?” That gets boring fast. Part of me kind of wished that Zetian would have a female love interest so we could read about a lesbian couple overthrowing the patriarchy but alas, we can’t get everything.

I do think that the ending was a bit too easy, though. It feels like it should be harder to take over the country than flying in on a robo-dragon thing, destroying some stuff, and declaring yourself the Iron Empress. I don’t know how I would have written it, though, cause I guess it might be pretty jarring to see this super powerful robo-dragon with super powerful pilots, one of whom hasn’t been seen in over two centuries. It probably would have been pretty hard (and stupid) to try and fight back, still, I’d like to have seen someone try (and more than just by holding hostages).

Characters

Wu Zetian: Zetian did things that I’ve been waiting for YA book characters to do for ages. Her just daring the soldiers to shoot her when they were trying to figure out what to do with her after surviving Li Shimin. Taking advantage of her untouchable position in different situations. That was some bad bitch behavior. I approve. I also like how you can see her character evolving as she realizes the complexities of her world. Like, somehow she becomes more empathetic and more ruthless at the same time. I think it’s because the more she learns about her world and the people around her, the more attachment she develops for some characters (like Shimin) and the more hate she develops for other characters (An Lushan). You also see her will to live increase as she goes from thinking of herself as just another cog in the machine to realizing that she can make a big change.

Li Shimin: I’m probably going to have hordes of angry fans coming at me for this comment, but Shimin was kind of disappointing to me. I think it’s because I was expecting dark humor and wry comments but instead I just got dark and serious. I mean, it makes sense when you consider his backstory, but still I wish we could’ve gotten some humor out of him. Some indication that he feels things other than anger, guilt, or sadness. Of course, that doesn’t mean I didn’t get invested in his fate. No, I’m still desperate to find out if Zetian manages to get him back. I’ll have to wait until December to find out though.

Gao Yizhi: It should come as no surprise to anyone who’s read my past book reviews that Yizhi is my favorite character. I mean, he basically reads as a blueprint for “Pink’s Fictional Crushes,” the rich pretty boy sweetheart with a hidden ruthless side and most importantly that long k-drama/c-drama hair. I’ve gotta say, I was not expecting him to be the comic relief, but he kind of was. I mean, some of his lines were just golden “you can’t shoot me; I’m rich!!” The only thing that kind of disappoints me about Yizhi is that he doesn’t seem like a strong character. I mean, he clearly is because it definitely takes a strong character to pew pew laser beam their dad, but for most of the story, he was kind of just Zetian’s fanboy. I’m really hoping in the next book we see more of his personality separate from Zetian.

[mlmxreader]

What's So Great About War? | Alex Keller x m!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ I have a suggestion for a fanfic. How about a WW1 scenario. The reader can be German or allies. They’re a pilot who crashed into no man’s land. The character whether it be Gaz or Alex. Any character will do you can choose. The character will help them since if the reader is German the uniform is so badly mangled it’s hard to determine who’s side their on or if they’re allies/ on the same side as the character maybe the character has seen them on the air field while they were headed to the trenches. Hope you enjoy and have fun with that idea! ❞

: ̗̀➛ During the First World War, Alex is stationed with the American Shock Troops, and finds himself torn between loyalty and duty.

: ̗̀➛ graphic depictions of death, graphic depictions of injury, graphic descriptions, toxic gas, plane crashes, swearing, smoking, gun violence

↳ PROSHIP/PROFIC/ETC DO NOT INTERACT

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

The war had been raging for all too long, it seemed as if it had been going on since the dawn of time and would never end. Leaving fields that were once green and bursting with life empty and barren and grey.

Desolate of everything except rotten pikes that held up the barbed wire and the scattered limbs and bones that were gnawed on by rats and mice.

It was easy to hear their cries, begging and pleading for a bullet in the head so they didn’t have to feel the rats burrow and chew through their stomachs and intestines throughout the night.

Many of the politicians called it the war to end all wars, and kept pushing for more and more needless and senseless death.

Yet they would not fight themselves and nor would they send their own sons to war either.

Sun Tzu would have wept if he saw what was happening.

On the Eastern Front, men were being gassed as they protected fortresses; rising and gargling on their blood and vomit as they tried to march forward.

On the Western Front, it was so much worse. The bodies of men and horses stunk as they rotted, torn apart and frayed from shells, grenades, and heavy machine gun fire.

It had been so long that Alex had forgotten how much of his time had been spent fighting; he at least still remembered who he fought with.

It was the Devil Dogs - the U.S Marines - at first.

They soon transferred him to the 141st British Regiment - which Alex absolutely despised due to MacTavish’s constant preaching of propaganda and talking about how the Welsh were “bugger all except sheep shagging scum who speak gibberish.”

Then at last, he was sent to the American Shock Troops - who were often called the Ghosts.

There, he was still stationed.

Several men made up the force of the Ghosts, as well as their mercy dog Riley.

But Alex was thankful, as he never really spent much time with them except during raids, so he never got to find out if they were as bad as MacTavish or not.

Quite often, though, Alex would find himself sitting at the edge of the trench and smoking too many cigarettes, his gaze turned to the sky as he thought about the man he used to know so well.

You were dragged into the war before he was, and he could still remember the feel of your hands in his as he begged you to stay alive and to make it through the war so he could see you again.

The last time he told you that he loved you, quickly kissing you before you were shoved onto the train; he chased after it until he fell over, calling your name and promising that he would see you again.

He would make it home to you.

You wrote to one another very often, though - Alex knew all about your dark green and white Albatross and how you had painted it the same pattern as an orca, just as he knew all about your time with the Flying Circus under the command of the infamous Manfred Von Richthofen, The Red Baron.

You were credited with sixty victories and the newspapers in your home country even gave you a dashing new nickname fit for your reputation - The Green Shark.

But that did not stop you from seeing the truth behind the war.

All the wasted lives and broken dreams. All the mothers mourning children they could never bury.

All the men who would not go home. There was no enemy - only men and boys, sons and fathers, brothers and uncles and nephews, turned to ash for nothing.

There would never be victory - only decay and death. There would never be glory - only blood.

None of it was ever going to be justified, it was a pointless and horrific war.

Alex could never disagree with you on that, he never would believe in such a vile and heinous thing, such an apocalyptic event. And all for what?

What was it all for?

Why did millions have to die?

Why did so many have to give their lives?

Why?

Two shots had changed the world, and millions were going to pay for it.

One man’s death was paid for by the suffering and deaths of millions more - coins made of blood and skin.

So what was so fucking great about it?

Swiping a hand down his face, Alex tried to push it from his mind, knowing that thoughts of such a calibre would get him killed.

He tossed the end of his cigarette away, but just as he was about to stand, he was thrust forward into the muddy waters face-first.

A great orange light was flying over him.

He kept his head low for a moment before scrambling over the top of the trench. Immediately, he charged across the barren wasteland as fast as he could, his lip quivering when he saw the dark green plane.

It was all a blur as he grabbed the limp pilot and dragged him back to the trench, putting him down on a cot and screaming for Elias. Alex was soon dragged away by Ajax and Kick.

He spent hours trying to get to the pilot, desperate and on the verge of starting a war on his own, but it wasn’t until dawn that he was allowed.

“Do you know this man?” Elias asked sternly, glaring at Alex.

He nodded, swallowing thickly. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good,” Elias nodded back curtly as he cleared his throat. “Is he friend or foe? His uniform’s torn and burnt, so I can’t tell - but you know him, so you must know.”

“Friendly,” Alex answered quietly, chewing the inside of his lip, “he’s on our side, Sir.”

Such a lie could get him shot and killed, Alex was all too aware of that - but what was he meant to do?

Your life was not suddenly worth less than his because of the fact that your country was fighting on the opposite side of a pointless war.

He had to lie to keep you alive and safe, even if it meant risking his own in the process.

But the Ghosts soon left, letting Alex stay with you; you were in bad shape.

Burns and gashes all over your face, some of them so deep that he could see where the flames from your downed plane had scorched the fat layer of your wounds.

Rendering the flesh blistered and weeping openly.

Deep wounds covered your hands and arms and legs; with ease, Alex could see the particularly gnarly laceration on your left leg.

It was open, the bone pressing against what little flesh was left; cracked and dried blood crackled when it spasmed upon feeling the soft winds.

Alex wanted to look away, but when he saw the scorch marks on the bone, he frowned.

What was left of your uniform was black from the burns, and stained with dark splodges that smelled like iron.

But you were awake, groaning and trying to move until he gently pushed you down, shaking his head. 

“You’re still alive,” you coughed weakly.

Alex nodded, letting his hand rest on your chest as he did his best to smile reassuringly. “For now… I had to tell them you were one of ours, they haven’t seen your plane yet.”

“I can pretend,” you agreed softly. “It’s alright.”

“We are going to see the end of this war,” he promised, licking his lips and clearing his throat. “And I will keep you safe. I promise.”

“I don’t want to fight,” you grumbled softly, shaking your head and coughing again. “I don’t want to be part of this war.”

“Darling,” Alex whispered. “You don’t have to any more. I promise. When this war is over, you’re coming home with me.”

“So demanding,” your laugh sounded more like a death rattle than anything else. “But I will always go where you do…”

“I promised you when you left on that train, I would find you again… didn’t think it’d be in such a fucking shitty predicament,” he sighed, gently patting your chest. “Sleep now. You need your rest and I need to convince Elias to let me stay with you while you heal… but I love you, you know, and I’m going to get us both home. I promise.”

“Keller,” you mumbled, holding his hand as tightly as you could, although your grip was still all too limp. “I love you, too… don’t go… please?”

Alex leaned back a little, taking a look behind him before lighting up a cigarette. “I’ll stay for as long as I can.”

He couldn’t have known, neither of you could have ever known, that the end of the war would not come for a long time, and that you would both watch the Ghosts die; you would see Hesh clinging onto Logan’s body as he screamed for their mother, begging for her to come and save them.

You would see Elias torn apart by rats as he did his best to usher the others back to the trenches.

You would see Ajax and Kick choke on toxic gas as they howled and rasped as their lungs collapsed.

You would see Merrick spread across No Man’s Land during heavy shelling.

The only one to make it out would be Riley. 

So, what would ever be so fucking great about the war?

“Come on,” Alex murmured as he gently shoved you over so he could lie down next to you, offering you his cigarette. “If I’m staying, I want some space.”

You shuffled and groaned, sharp pains shooting through you until you wept and nearly begged for death. Through choked up tears, you managed to say, “you always did hog the bed.”

[coochiequeens]

Since I touched on this with the articles about Jojo Siwa already planning on having 1 girl and 2 boys and the twibling article with the gay men who just happened to have had two boys through surrogacy ........

Rise in parents engaging in sex-selection during IVF has the fertility biz booming

By Cassy Fiano-Chesser | May 14, 2024 

The fertility industry has opened new doors for countless would-be parents across the globe, and it’s not just doors allowing them to have children. Thanks to in-vitro fertilization (IVF), people can create their children and then have them tested to ensure they meet all the right specifications. While this brave new world sounds like something out of a science fiction novel, it’s all too real – and using IVF to select the kind of child you want is becoming more and more common.

In 2021, socialite and reality television alum Paris Hilton announced her plans to use IVF to create her family, and choosing the sex of her babies was one of the reasons. “Well, we have been doing the IVF. So I can pick twins if I like. Kim [Kardashian] is actually the one who told me about that, I didn’t even know anything about it. And I’m happy she told me that advice, and introduced me to her doctor, so yeah. We have them all ready to go,” she said, continuing, “I think it’s just something most women should do, just to have. And then you can pick if you want boys or girls — just because I really want to have twins that are a boy and a girl. The only way to 100% get that is by making it happen that way.”

Hilton is hardly alone. The number of people foregoing sex in favor of IVF in order to have children is growing — as is sex selection. Though, according to the Daily Mail, sex selection is illegal in most of the globe, it isn’t in the United States, and it’s become trendy.

“The market is the size of the human race,” Jeffrey Steinberg, founder of the Fertility Institutes in Los Angeles, said in an interview with Slate. He claimed 85% of his clients are drawn in by the idea of choosing their baby’s sex.

Sex selection has long been practiced, albeit not using IVF; instead, parents sometimes found out the sex of their baby during an ultrasound, and if it was the “wrong” sex, they sought an abortion. Though this has typically been a way to bolster a cultural preference for boys, Slate pointed out that in the United States, it’s become the opposite: the market is skewed toward girls.

Sharon Moayeri, the founder of OC Fertility in Newport Beach, California, does not market the ability to choose the baby’s sex as aggressively as Steinberg does, and therefore, said only around 15% of her clients arrive without fertility issues. Another doctor at the medical center at the University of California San Francisco told Slate that “single mothers by choice, same-sex couples, and families with a history of autism” were typically more likely to request girls. A study also found that white parents having their first child chose female embryos 70% of the time.

"When I think about having a child that’s a boy, it’s almost a repulsion, like, Oh my God, no,” one woman said.

Another argued, “Boy children tend to be less caring towards their parents. It doesn’t really matter if it’s socialized or biological. It’s probably socialized, but I can’t change all of society.”

And because laws in other countries ban sex selection, thousands of people fly to the United States each year just to take advantage of this country’s lax fertility regulations. And it means big business for the fertility industry.

“It’s a moneymaking industry,” Laura Kerwin, a Harvard-trained psychologist, told Slate. “People need to realize that [clinics] have a fiduciary duty to their shareholders to make money. They’re trying to sell you on an option.”

There is little to no oversight within the fertility industry, meaning there is little to no information on what the current state of the industry is. “We do not even know how many frozen embryos we have in this country,” Margaret Marsh, a professor at Rutgers University, told the Atlantic, explaining that the last count — 400,000 — was 20 years ago. “[Today] we have no idea.”

The Atlantic also noted that 75% of fertility clinics advertise sex-selection as an offered service, allowing people to undergo IVF simply because they want to choose if they have a boy or a girl. Steinberg told the Atlantic this “service” makes the fertility industry approximately $90 million each year.

Steinberg also scoffed at the notion of increased regulations, saying it is “putting the handcuffs on scientists.” Then, using pro-abortion terminology, he added, “If there’s anything society should have learned, it’s ‘Keep their hands off of people’s reproductive choices’.”

IVF, though often described as a way to help heartbroken infertile couples to create families, has created a monster in which children are no longer treated as human beings, but as products to be designed, engineered, and then sold to the highest bidder upon demand. And as these embryonic children are products, they can be screened, destroyed, traded, and even turned into jewelry.

Any attempts to cut back on this commodification is swiftly attacked as cruelty towards the infertile — but what about the children being created? What will it take for the line to be drawn and a stop be placed on this reproductive free-for-all?

I checked on that statement about embryos turned into jewelry and found articles mostly dating back to 2018. But it did happen.

https://www.genethique.org/jewellery-made-from-supernumerary-embryos-obtained-after-ivf/?lang=en

"When I think about having a child that’s a boy, it’s almost a repulsion, like, Oh my God, no,” one woman said. While I get that I'm still creeped out about this being a big international business.

[themousefromfantasyland]

The Wedding of Sir Gawain and Dame Ragnelle

This is probably the most wholesome and sweet Arthurian tale, with a very sudden tragic ending.

This poem from 15th century, translated by me into modern English, is a gender swapped a Beauty and the Beast tale, a motif that in folklore is known as the Loathly Lady.

What draws my attention to this tale is that the main moral appear to be that men should treat women well even if they appear ugly and rude, and the spell that disfigures our female protagonist is only broken when Sir Gwain gives her the possibility of choosing, essentially giving her agency of her own. It's strangely progressive for a poem from the 15th century.

Listen and pay attention to the life of a wealthy lord, there was none like him while he lived, neither in bower nor in hall.

This adventure happened during the time of King Arthur, and it was a great adventure that he himself undertook,that courteous and noble King. He surpasses all kings, Arthur being the finest, and he carries away the honor of all knighthood, wherever he went. In his country, there was nothing but chivalry, and knights were beloved by that valiant lord, for cowards were always disgraced.

Now, will you please listen for a while to my tale, I shall tell you about King Arthur,

And an incident that once occurred to him.

He was out hunting in Sherwood Forest, with all his brave and noble knights -

Now, pay attention to my story!

The King was seated at his dining table, with his bow to hunt the wild deer, and his lords were seated beside him. As the King stood, he suddenly noticed a magnificent and beautiful stag, and swiftly he moved forward.

The stag was in a thick bracken fern, and the hounds pursued, staying hidden: All who saw it marveled at the King.

"Remain silent, everyone, I will go alone, if I can, Using the craft of stalking."

The King took a bow in his hand and in a woodman's manner, he stooped low to approach that deer.

As he came near to the deer, the deer suddenly leapt into a thorny bush, and the King continued to draw nearer and nearer.

So King Arthur went for a while after the deer, I believe, about half a mile, and no one went with him. And finally, he let fly at the deer and struck it fiercely and surely - Such grace God granted him.

The deer tumbled down in response, and fell into a dense thicket of ferns; The King pursued quickly.

Suddenly, a strange man approached the King, he was well-armored and confident, a knight strong and mighty. And he spoke grim words to the King:

"Well met, King Arthur! You have wronged me for many years, and now I shall seek revenge upon you; I believe your days are near their end. You have unjustly granted my lands to Sir Gawain, with great injustice. What say you, King, all alone?"

"Sir Knight, what is your honorable name?"

"Sir King," he said, "I am Gromer Somer Joure, I tell you that with certainty."

"Oh, Sir Gromer Somer, think well; You gain no honor by killing me here. Consider that you are a knight: If you kill me now in this situation, all knights will reject you wherever you go; That shame shall never leave you. Abandon your intention and use your wit, if something is wrong, I shall rectify it,if you will it before I depart."

"Nay," said Sir Gromer Somer, "by Heaven's King! You shall not escape so easily, without lying; I have you at my mercy. If I were to let you go with mockery, you would defy me another time; I will not fail in that."

"Now," said the King, "so help me God, save my life, and whatever you most desire,

I shall grant it to you now; It would be shameful to kill me while hunting, you armed and me clad only in green, indeed."

"All this will not help you, surely, for I desire neither land nor gold, truly, unless you grant me on a certain day, as I shall set, and in the same attire."

"Yes," said the King, "Here, take my hand."

"Yes, but listen, King, and hear me for a moment. First, you shall swear upon my brown sword to reveal to me, upon your arrival, what women love best in field and town, and you shall meet me here without sending exactly on this day twelve months hence; And you shall swear upon my good sword that none of your knights shall accompany you, by the Cross, neither stranger nor friend. And if you fail to bring an answer without fail, you shall lose your head for your troubles - This shall now be your oath. What do you say, King? Let's see, have it done!"

"Sir, I agree to this! Now let me go. Though it is very disagreeable to me, I assure you, as I am a true king, I will return at the end of this twelve months and bring you your answer."

"Now go your way, King Arthur. Your life is in my hands, I am fully certain; You are not aware of your sorrow. Wait, King Arthur, just a little while: Do not deceive me today, and keep everything in secrecy - For if I knew, by the Holy Mary, that you would betray me in the field, you would first lose your life."

"Nay," said King Arthur, "that cannot be. You will never find me an untruthful knight -

I would rather die. Farewell, Sir Knight, and ill fortune. I will come, and if I am alive on the appointed day, even if I never escape."

The King blew his bugle. Every knight heard it and recognized the sound; They went towards him. There they found the King and the deer, with a somber and heavy demeanor, without any desire to play.

"Now let us return home to Carlisle; I do not enjoy this hunting well,"

So said King Arthur. All the lords knew by his expression that the King had encountered some disturbance.

Upon reaching Carlisle, the King arrived, but no one knew of his heaviness; His heart was extremely heavy. In this sadness, he remained and many of his knights wondered that time, until finally, Sir Gawain spoke to the King:

"Sire, I am greatly amazed by the thing that troubles you deeply."

Then the King answered him tightly:

"I shall tell you, noble knight Gawain. In the forest as I was today, there I encountered a knight in his armor, and he spoke certain words to me, and charged me not to reveal him; His counsel I must keep, therefore, or else I am perjured."

"Nay, do not fear, my Lord! By the blessed Virgin Mary, I am not the man who would dishonor you, neither in the evening nor in the morning."

"Indeed, I was hunting in Inglewood; You know well that I slew a deer, by the Cross,

All by myself alone. There I met a knight well-armed; He told me his name was Sir Gromer Somer Joure: Therefore, I lament my situation. That knight fiercely threatened me and intended to slay me with great heat, but I spoke kindly in return. I had no weapons with me there; Alas! My honor is now gone because of it."

"What of it?" said Gawain.

"Why more? I shall not lie: He would have slain me there without mercy - And I was reluctant to do so. He made me swear that at the end of twelve months I should meet him there in the same manner; To that, I pledged my word. And also, I should tell him on the same day what women desire most, in good faith; Otherwise, I would lose my life. I made this oath to that knight, and that I should never reveal it to anyone; I had no choice in this matter. And also, I should come in no other attire but exactly as I was on that same day. And if I fail in my answer, I know I shall be slain right there. Do not blame me though I am a sorrowful man; All this is my dread and fear."

"Yes, Sir, take heart. Let your horse be made ready to ride into a foreign land; and wherever you encounter any man or woman, indeed, ask them what they say about it, and I shall also ride another way and inquire of every man and woman, gathering what I may of their answers; And I shall write them in a book."

"I agree," said the King promptly; "It is well advised, noble Gawain, by the Holy Cross."

Soon, they were both ready, Gawain and the King, truly. The King rode one way, and Gawain another and inquired of every man, woman, and other, what women desire most dearly. Some said they loved to be well-dressed, some said they loved to be admired, some said they loved a passionate man who could embrace them and kiss them. Some said one thing, some said another; and so, Gawain had gathered many answers. By the time Gawain had obtained what he could and returned by a certain day.

Sir Gawain had gathered so many answers that he had made a great book, indeed.

He returned to the court. At that time, the King came with his book, and they both looked at each other's pamphlets.

"This cannot fail," said Gawain.

"By God," said the King, "I greatly fear; I intend to seek a little more in Inglewood Forest. I have only a month until my appointed day; I may happen upon some good tidings - That seems best to me now."

"Do as you wish," then Gawain said, "Whatever you do, I am content; It is good to be proactive. Do not doubt, Lord, you shall succeed well; Some of your answers shall help when needed, else it would be displeasing."

King Arthur rode forth on another day into Inglewood as his path lay, and there he met with a Lady. She was an incredibly unattractive creature, as no man had ever seen, beyond measure. King Arthur marveled, for sure.

Her face was red, her nose snotty, her mouth wide, her teeth yellow and protruding, her eyes more bloated than a ball. Her mouth was nothing to admire: Her teeth hung over her lips, her cheeks as wide as women's hips. A lute she carried upon her back;

Her neck long and greatly thick; Her hair clumped in a heap; Her shoulders were a yard broad. Dangling breasts fit for a load, and she was shaped like a barrel. And to describe the foulness of that Lady, no tongue can adequately tell, truly; She had enough ugliness.

She sat on a gorgeously adorned palfrey, with gold and precious stones. It was an unseemly sight: So ugly a creature, beyond measure, to ride so finely, I assure you, It was neither reasonable nor right.

She rode up to Arthur and thus she said:

"God speed, Sir King! I am well pleased that I have met with you; Speak with me, I advise, before you go, for your life is in my hand, I warn you so; You shall find that, and I won't let it go."

"Why, what do you want with me, Lady, now?"

"Sir, I would like to speak with you and share good tidings. For all the answers you can offer, none of them shall help you at all. You shall know that, by the Cross. You think I do not know your secret, but I assure you, I know it entirely. If I do not help you, you are as good as dead. Grant me, Sir King, just one thing, and I guarantee your life's safety, or else you shall lose your head."

"What do you mean, Lady? Tell me straight, for I detest your words greatly; I have no need of you. What is your desire, fair Lady? Let me know quickly - What is your intention? And why is my life in your hand? Tell me, and I shall grant you whatever you ask."

"Indeed," said the Lady, "I am not evil. You must grant me a knight to marry: His name is Sir Gawain. And I shall make such a covenant with you that through my answer, your life shall be saved, otherwise, let my desire be in vain. And if my answer saves your life, grant me to be Gawain's wife. Consider now, Sir King. For it must be so, or you are as good as dead; Choose now, for you may soon lose your head. Tell me now, without delay."

"By Mary!" said the King, "I cannot grant you to guarantee Sir Gawain's marriage to you; It all lies in him alone. But if it is so, I will do my best to save my own life and make it secure; To Gawain, I will express my concern."

"Well," said she, "now go home again and speak fair words to Sir Gawain, for I may save your life. Though I am foul, I am still desirable; Through me, he may save your life, or else your death is certain."

"Alas!" he said, "Now woe is me that I should cause Gawain to marry you; For he will be reluctant to agree. To marry such an ugly Lady as you I have never seen in my life before; I know not what I may do."

"No matter, Sir King, though I am ugly; A mate for an owl is chosen. You shall get nothing more from me. When you return for your answer, right in this place, I shall meet you here, or else I know you are lost."

"Farewell," said the King, "Lady."

"Yes, Sir," she said, "there is a bird called an owl… And yet a Lady I am."

"What is your name, I pray you, tell me?"

"Sir King, I am called Dame Ragnelle, truly, that never yet beguiled a man."

"Dame Ragnelle, now have a good day."

"Sir King, God speed you on your way! Right here I shall meet you."

Thus they departed fair and well. The King soon came to Carlisle, and his heart heavy and great.

The first man he met was Sir Gawain, who said to the King,

"Sir, how have you fared?"

"Forsooth," said the King, "never so ill! Alas, I am on the verge of perishing, for I must be dead."

"Nay," said Gawain, "that cannot be! I would rather be dead myself, so may I thrive. These are ill tidings."

"Gawain, today I met the foulest Lady that I ever saw, certainly. She said she would save my life - But first, she would have you as her husband. Therefore, I am woeful - I lament in my heart."

"Is this all?" then said Gawain; "I shall wed her and wed her again,

Though she were a fiend; Though she were as foul as Beelzebub, I will wed her, by the Rood, or else I would not be your friend. For you are my King with honor and have honored me in many a battle; Therefore, I will not fail you. To save your life, Lord, it is my duty, even if I were false and a great coward; And my honor is the better for it."

"Indeed, Gawain, I met her in Inglewood. She told me her name, by the Rood: That it was Dame Ragnelle. She told me that unless I had an answer from her, all my efforts would be in vain - That is what she told me. And unless her answer helps me well, then let her have her desire in no measure - That was her covenant. But if her answer helps me, and no other, then she would have you: here is all together that she made a warrant."

"As for this," said Gawain, "it shall not hinder: I will wed her whenever you set it. I pray you, do not worry. For even if she were the most foul creature that men could ever see, for your love, I will not hesitate."

"Gramercy, Gawain," then said King Arthur; "Of all knights, you bear the flower that I have ever found. You have saved my honor and my life forever; Therefore, my love shall not be severed from you, as long as I am King in this land."

Then within five or six days the King must needs go on his way to deliver his answer.

The King and Sir Gawain rode out of town - No one with them, but they alone, neither far nor near.

When the King was within the forest:

"Sir Gawain, farewell, I must go west; You shall go no further."

"My Lord, God speed you on your journey. I wish I could now ride your way, for I am right woeful to part."

The King had ridden but a while, little more than the space of a mile bfore he met Dame Ragnelle.

"Ah, Sir King! You are now welcome here. I know you ride to deliver your answer; But it will avail you naught."

"Now," said the King, "since it will be no other way, tell me your answer now, and save my life; Gawain shall wed you. He has promised me to save my life, and you shall have your desire, both in chamber and in bed. Therefore, tell me now quickly - What will help me now at last? Enough, I cannot tarry."

"Sir," said Dame Ragnelle, "now you shall know what women desire most, high and low; I will not vary from this:

"Some men say we desire to be fair;

Also, we desire to have the attention

Of various strange men;

Also, we love to have pleasure in bed;

And often we desire to wed.

Thus, men do not understand

Yet, we desire another kind of thing:

To be regarded not as old, but fresh and young,

With flattery and sweet words and cunning -

So men can always win us women

By whatever they may crave.

You go about it nicely, I will not lie;

But there is one thing that is our utmost fantasy,

And now you shall know it.

We desire above all things from men

To have sovereignty, without lying,

Over all, both high and low.

For when we have sovereignty, all is ours,

Though a knight be ever so fierce,

And we always win the mastery.

Of the most manly is our desire:

To have the sovereignty of such a lord,

That is our craft and plan.

"Therefore, go, Sir King, on your way, and tell that knight, as I say, that it is as we desire most. He will be angry and unsought and curse her fast who taught it to you, for his labor is lost. Go forth, Sir King, and keep your promise, for your life is surely secured now, that I undertake with confidence."

The King rode forth in great haste, as fast as he could go through mire, moor, and fen, where the place was designated and set then.

There he met Sir Gromer, and stern words he spoke to the King:

"Come off, Sir King, now let's see your answer, what it shall be, for I am ready and prepared."

The King pulled out two books:

"Sir, here is my answer, I dare say; Some will help in need."

Sir Gromer looked at them all:

"Nay, nay, Sir King, you are as good as dead; Therefore, now you shall bleed."

"Wait, Sir Gromer," said King Arthur, "I have one answer that will make all sure."

"Let me see," then said Sir Gromer, "Or else, so help me God, as I say, you shall have your death with great pain, I assure you now."

"Now," said the King, "I see, as I guess, in you, there is but little gentleness, by God who always aids. Here is our answer, and that is all that women desire most specifically, both free and bound:

"I say no more, but above all things

Women desire sovereignty, for that is their pleasure.

And that is their utmost desire,

To have control over the manliest men,

And then they are satisfied. They informed me

To rule you, Sir Gromer."

"And she who told you, Sir Arthur, I pray to God, I may see her burn in a fire; For she was my sister, Dame Ragnelle, that old scot, God give her shame. Otherwise, I would have made you completely obedient; Now I have lost much effort. Go where you will, King Arthur, for you can be assured of me. Alas, that I ever see this day! Now I know well, you will be my enemy. And at such a distance I will never get you; My song may be 'Alas!'"

"No," said the King, "I make a vow: I will have some armor to defend myself,

That I swear to God! You will never find me in such a plight; And if you do, let me be beaten and bound, as is the best proof for you."

"Now, have a good day," said Sir Gromer.

"Farewell," said Sir Arthur, "so may I be helped, I am glad I have succeeded." 

King Arthur turned his horse into the plain, and soon he met Dame Ragnelle again, in the same place and spot.

"Sir King, I am glad you have succeeded well. I told you how it would be, every bit;

Now hold what you have promised: Since I have saved your life, and no one else, Gawain must wed me, Sir Arthur, he is a very noble knight."

"No, Lady, I will not fail you what I promised. If you will be guided by my counsel, you shall have your desire."

"No, Sir King, now I will not do so; Openly I will be wedded, or I will part from you, or else, you will be shamed. Consider how I have saved your life. Therefore, do not argue with me now, for if you do, you are to blame."

The King felt great shame because of her, but she rode forth, although he was displeased; Until they arrived at Carlisle, they continued on.

She rode past him into the court; She spared no man, boldly - It greatly displeased the King.

The entire country was greatly astonished from where she came, that foul and unsweet creature;

They had never seen anything so foul.

She entered the hall, indeed.

"Arthur, King, fetch me Sir Gawain, before the knights, quickly - So that I may now be made secure. In good times and bad, bind us together, before all your chivalry. This is your promise; let's see it, be done. Send for Sir Gawain, my love, immediately, for I won't wait any longer."

Then Sir Gawain, the knight, came forward:

"Sir, I am ready for what I have promised you, to fulfill all agreements."

"God have mercy!" said Dame Ragnelle then; "I wish I were a beautiful woman for your sake, for you have such goodwill."

Then Sir Gawain pledged his loyalty to her in good times and bad, as a true knight; Then Dame Ragnelle was joyful.

"Alas!" then said Dame Gaynor; So said all the ladies in her chamber, and wept for Sir Gawain.

"Alas!" said both the King and knight, that he should wed such a creature, she was so foul and horrible. She had two tusks on each side like boar's tusks, I won't hide, of considerable length. One tusk went up and the other down. A mouth wide and terribly grown, with gray hairs in abundance. Her lips lay wrinkled on her chin; Her neck, truly, could not be seen - She was hideous! She would not be wed in any other way but with a proclamation throughout the shire, in town and borough.

All the ladies of the land she commanded to come at hand to uphold that bridal ceremony. So it happened one day that the foul maiden was to be married to Sir Gawain.

The day had come, the day it was to be; The ladies pitied her greatly.

"Alas!" they all exclaimed.

The Queen pleaded with Dame Ragnelle, indeed -

"To be married in the early morning, as privately as you can."

"No!" she said; "By Heaven's King, I will never do that, no matter what, no matter what you say. I will be wed openly, for with the King I made such a covenant. I leave no doubt for you, I will not go to church until High Mass time and I will dine in the open hall, in the midst of the crowd."

"I agree," said Dame Gaynor; "But it would seem more honorable to me and most befitting your worship."

"Yes, as for that, Lady, God save you. Today I will have my honor, I tell you without boasting."

She prepared to go to church and all the nobles who were there, Sir, without lying.

She was adorned in the richest manner, more splendid than Dame Gaynor; her attire was worth three thousand marks of fine red gold coins, stiff and strong, so richly she was adorned.

Despite her clothing, she stood out as the foulest creature that anyone had seen - No one had ever seen such a hideous sow. To make a long story short, when she was married, they went home quickly;

They all went to the feast. This foul Lady took the high seat; She was very ugly and not courteous, so they all said. When the food was served before her, she ate as much as six people combined; Many a man marveled at that. Her nails were three inches long, with them she broke her food rudely; That's why she ate alone.

She ate three capons and also three curlews, and she devoured large baked dishes, indeed. Everyone marveled at it. No food came before her that she didn't eat, more or less, that pretty, foul damsel.

All the men who saw her said the devil should gnaw her bones, both knight and squire.

So she ate until the food was finished, until they removed the tablecloths and washed, as is the custom and manner.

Many men spoke of various dishes; I believe you can guess there were plenty, both tame and wild. In King Arthur's court, there was no shortage of delicacies that could be obtained by man's hand, neither in forest nor in field. There were minstrels from different countries.

[The manuscript is missing one leaf at this point, containing about seventy lines; the narrative continues at the moment of Ragnelle's and Gawain's wedding night.]

"Ah, Sir Gawain, since I have wed you, show me your courtesy in bed; It cannot be denied rightfully. In truth, Sir Gawain," the Lady said, and if I were fair, you would show more affection, but you pay no heed to marriage. Yet, for Arthur's sake, kiss me at least; I beg you to grant me this request. Let's see how you can perform."

Sir Gawain said, "I will do more than just a kiss, and with God as witness!"

He turned to her. He saw her as the most beautiful creature he had ever seen, without measure. She said, "What is your desire?

"Ah, Jesus!" he said; "Who are you?"

"Sir, I am your wife, certainly. Why are you so unkind?"

"Ah, Lady, I am to blame. I beg your pardon, my fair madam - It was not my intention.

You are a fair lady in my eyes, and today you were the foulest creature I have ever seen with my eyes. Well, I am glad, my Lady, to have you thus" - And he embraced her in his arms and kissed her and rejoiced greatly, securely.

"Sir," she said, "this is how you shall have me: Choose one of the two, as God is my witness, my beauty will not last - Whether you want me fair at night and as ugly in daylight to everyone's sight, or else have me fair during the day and the ugliest wife at night - You must choose one. Choose one, Sir Knight, whichever you prefer, yo save your honor."

"Alas!" said Gawain; "The choice is difficult. To choose the best, it is challenging,

No matter which choice I make: To have you fair at night and nothing more, that would grieve my heart greatly, and I would lose my honor. And if I desire to have you fair during the day, then at night I would have a simple companion. Now I would gladly choose the best: I don't know what to say in this world, but do as you wish now, my gay Lady. I put the choice in your hand: Whatever you will, I leave it in your hands. Release me when you wish, for I am bound; I entrust the choice to you. Both body and possessions, heart and every part, Are all yours to buy and sell - That I vow to God!"

"Thank you, courteous Knight," said the Lady; "May you be blessed among all earthly knights, for now I am honored. You shall have me fair both day and night and for as long as I live, fair and bright; Therefore, do not be troubled. For I was shaped by necromancy, by my stepmother, may God have mercy on her, and by enchantment; And I was supposed to be different, you see, until the best knight in England truly wedded me, and he should have given me sovereignty over his entire body and possessions, indeed. Thus, I was deformed; But you, Sir Knight, courteous Gawain, have given me sovereignty, indeed, that will never anger you, early or late. Kiss me, Sir Knight, right here and now; I pray thee, be glad and make good cheer, for I am well begun."

There they rejoiced with all their might, for it was right and natural,just the two of them alone. She thanked God and the merciful Mary for being restored from her defilement; So did Sir Gawain. He made merry in her chamber and thanked Our Savior, I tell you, for certain.

With joy and mirth they stayed till day, and then they wished to rise, that fair maiden.

"You shall not," Sir Gawain said; "We will lie and sleep till prime and then let the King call us to dine."

"I am agreed," then said the maid.

Thus it passed on till midday.

"Sirs," said the King, "let us go and see if Sir Gawain is alive. I am very afraid for Sir Gawain, now lest the devil has slain him; Now I would like to know."

"Go we now," said Arthur the King. "We will go see their awakening, and how well he has fared."

They came to the chamber, all uncertain.

"Arise," said the King to Sir Gawain; "Why do you sleep so long in bed?"

"Mary," said Gawain, "Sir King, surely, I would be glad if you would let me be,

For I am well at ease. Wait, you shall see the door undone! I think that you will say I am well gone; I am loath to rise."

Sir Gawain rose, and in his hand he took his fair Lady, and to the door he shook, and opened the door very fairly. She stood in her chemise by that fire; Her hair fell to her knees like red gold wire.

"Lo, this is my wife, as you can see! Look!" said Gawain to Arthur till - "Sir, this is my wife, Dame Ragnelle, who once saved your life."

He told the King and the Queen before them how suddenly she had transformed from her shape -

"My Lord, now with your leave" -

And what was the cause she was deformed Sir Gawain told the King all the details.

"I thank God," said the Queen; "I thought, Sir Gawain, she would have harmed you;

Therefore, in my heart I was sorely aggrieved. But the opposite is now seen!"

There was game, revelry, and play, and every man said to another, "She is a fair creature."

Then the King told them all how Dame Ragnelle had helped him in need, "Or my death would have been ordained."

Then Gawain told the King all together how she was transformed by her stepmother until a knight had helped her regain her form.

There she told the King fair and well how Gawain granted her sovereignty in every aspect, and what choice she gave to him.

"God bless him for his courtesy; He saved me from misfortune and dishonor that was full foul and grim. Therefore, courteous Knight and noble Gawain, I shall never anger you, that I promise now here. While I live, I shall be obedient; To God above, I shall bear witness, and never engage in strife with you."

"Gramercy, Lady," then said Gawain; "With you, I am fully content and I trust to find."

He said, "My love she shall have. Thereafter, she shall never need to ask for more, For she has been so kind to me."

The Queen said, and all the ladies, "She is the fairest now in this hall, I swear by Saint John! My love, Lady, you shall have forever for saving my Lord Arthur, as I am a gentlewoman."

Sir Gawain beget his Gingalyn who was a good knight of strength and kin and of the Round Table. 

At every great feast that Lady should be. Of fairness, she carried away the beauty,

Wherever she walked on the ground. Gawain loved that Lady, Dame Ragnelle; In all his life, he loved none so well, I tell you without lying. As a coward, he lay beside her day and night. Never would he engage in jousting rightly; At that, Arthur the King marveled.

She prayed the King for his gentleness, "To be a good lord to Sir Gromer, indeed, for what he has done to you."

"Yes, Lady, I will do that now for your sake, for I know well he cannot make amends; He acted rudely towards me."

Now to bring this to a short conclusion, I intend to end it very soon, this tale of the gentle Lady. She lived with Sir Gawain but five years; That grieved Gawain all his life, I tell you assuredly.

In her life, she never grieved him; Therefore, no woman was dearer to him.

Thus ends my tale. She was the fairest Lady of all England, when she was alive, I understand; So said Arthur the King. Thus ends the adventure of King Arthur, who often in his days was greatly troubled, and the wedding of Gawain. Gawain was wedded often in his days; But he never loved a woman so constantly, as I have heard men say.

This adventure happened in Inglewood, as good King Arthur went hunting; Thus have I heard men tell. Now, God, as you were born in Bethlehem, never let their souls be lost in the burning fire of hell!

And, Jesus, as you were born of a virgin, help him out of the sorrow that devised this tale, and do it quickly, for he is surrounded by many jailers who keep him securely, with wrongs and cunning. Now, God, as you are the true Royal King, help him out of the danger who created this tale, for he has been in it for a long time. And in great pity, help your servant, For body and soul I yield into your hands, for he suffers greatly.

Here ends the wedding of Sir Gawain and Dame Ragnelle for the help of King Arthur.

@ariel-seagull-wings @princesssarisa @mask131

[ghostsaberwolf]

The war had come.

She'd known it would. It was inevitable, really, even the smallest border towns were gone, pillaged by one side or the other for supplies and warm bodies. No number of demonic pacts or faerie deals or spirit bargains could hold back the tide of bloodthirsty humanity forever. All she could do was buy time, and she'd gotten every second she could. After all, what else was a witch for if not to attempt the impossible?

And here she was, with her little population of innocents, all gathered in the town square like lambs to the slaughter. A baby was being gently shushed by a tearful but quiet mother. Husbands kept their wives close, brothers kept between their sisters and the strangers while their homes and shops were ransacked. And there was nothing she could do, not without dooming them all to a far worse fate than a quick death.

"You have a choice," the captain said to them, pacing as his men slowly trickled back to him, weighed down with food and other sundries, grinning and squabbling over their prizes. "You may starve, after we leave. You may die if you choose to resist. Or you may swear fealty to King Velbrand of Delaria, and we will see that you are properly equipped and trained to survive our glorious conquest of this country." His pacing stops, his eyes penetrating, and his sincerity undoubted. "Each will be given their choice, man, woman, and child. Choose quickly. There will be no going back."

She sighs, determined as she is relieved. If they are left alone, even if they are forced to join the army, she has the power to make it turn out well. Given time, she can bring them home, make home safe again. All she needs is the-

"Captain!" comes a voice, echoing in the silence after his speech. A scout comes running, carrying a small, wrapped bundle. "We found this, in a small house at the edge of town. Brought it to you right away." The captain takes it with a nod, undoing the knot, revealing a small crystalline orb, a thin rowan wand, and an amulet, a five pointed star in a circle.

She almost screamed.

They had found her hiding place, somehow, despite her wards, her certainty that no one would even think to look there regardless. And now... Now they would all be put to the sword.

"Your village harbors a witch," the captain says, quietly, venom lacing his tone. "You will burn with her, then."

"Please!" Addie cries out. Poor thing. She should know better. "We didn't know! Think of our children, they couldn't possibly-!"

"Ignorance is no excuse," comes her answer. "Though it is gracious of you to volunteer to burn first."

That's it. She can't simply let this happen, she WON'T-

An arrow sprouts from the captain's throat, striking with the silver tone of a struck bell.

His men do not react, dumbfounded, until another is struck, the bell ringing out again and covering the sound of the first body hitting the ground. By then, it is too late, she can see him coming.

The paladin isn't what she'd come to expect from that order, no flashing armor or challenge shouted with arrogant fervor. He wears simple leathers, a quiver strapped opposite his sword, and his long hair is braided tightly but still long down his back. And she'd never seen any of them use a bow, but even as she has the thought, he lets another arrow fly, and death rings out again. The witch raises an eyebrow. Sloppy of him, to hold his powers so loosely, but hopefully she can avoid a witch burning if all his magic is so untrained.

The soldiers are charging him now, howling out their rage, but the arrows are coming faster, the echoes chasing ringing, and the paladin never wavers. The moment he fires his last shot, the bow is in the quiver, his sword is ringing free, and he charges, not even deigning to draw his shield.

Judging by the fact that he fells a dozen men without a scratch and isn't even breathing hard in the ringing silence, he didn't need it.

Damn.

She's going to die.

He sheathes his sword and bows his head, apparently praying though he doesn't take a knee as is generally custom. He simply calls, "Get your wounded taken care of. If anyone has a cart I may borrow, I would like to show what little respect we may. I will join the healers once last rites have been done."

The townsfolk jump to his command, soft spoken though it was. A paladin offering his services as a healer was no small thing, and the witch resented that she could not see to them herself, not without risking everything. Still, she was a known herbalist, and she would do all she could for the injured. All that was left was to see how long it would take before he discovered her.

                                                *     *     *

The paladin walks to the healers tents that had been erected in the square, the injured relatively few but still too many for one doctor and an overworked herbalist to care for in their respective domains. If anyone noticed the drag in his step, they said nothing, not wishing to imply he wasn't strong enough after working all day caring for corpses. He'd seen those glances before, knew he was pushing too far. Such was his oath.

Ducking inside, he sees a dozen or so men in beds, with the herbalist, the doctor, and the mayor gathered around a table. Curious, he approaches and asks, "What of these men? Their wounds do not seem so grievous to me that they cannot be seen to."

The herbalist turns to meet his eyes, her own gaze seeming hopeless. "They were assaulted by the captain directly, and his blade carried a curse. We do not have the means to save them."

He nods. "Who is worst? He will have the least time, so I must see to him first, if he is to be saved at all." She nods in turn, and leads him to a bed at the end, near the back.

"Zachariah," she says to him, worry clear on her face. "A good carpenter and a better father. I hope you can help him.”

He nods at her. “As do I. If anyone has found the captain’s weapon, bring it to the square and throw it in the largest fire that can be safely made. With luck, the flame will cleanse the spell or at least warp the blade enough to disrupt it.” He lays his hands on Zachariah and the familiar golden glow of divinity surrounds his hands, his mind both fogging and focusing as he helps guide the magic where it needs to go. “And please, make sure no one touches the blade once it goes in the fire. The curse may seek out anyone who had an active hand in its ending, and there have been enough deaths today.”

The witch nods, doing her best not to shake in the face of the dual faces of the paladin who saved them and the divine patron he channels. He has given her something she can do, at the least, and if breaking the curse will help him heal them, she has options far more effective than a simple cleansing flame. If she is going to die when he finds the truth anyway, she will at least give her people the best chance possible.

The sword she finds easily enough, set to the side of the grave they’d given all their fallen enemies along with anything else they might find use for once their spirits had been given the chance to move on. Its magic is a hungry, malevolent thing, and she thinks with a pang that it was kind of him to be so specific to protect her people from this. If fate is kind, maybe he will take her place and protect them after she is gone, for however much time his god will grant him.

Though judging by how little effort it takes for his power to shine through, he may not have very much time left himself.

Focusing on her task, she finds her shrine still intact, set into the base of a tree nearly big around as some of the houses in town. Working quickly, she draws out a banishing sigil with the chalk she keeps there, sets the blade carefully into the center, and starts sketching out the appropriate wards to ensure whatever magic is in it has no opportunity to further harm anyone. Just as she’s putting the finishing touch on the dispersal rune, however, she hears an almost-familiar voice.

“Narat would be so disappointed in you,” it says. “All your power, all the things you could be doing with immortality and no strings attached, and you’re wasting it looking after a bunch of rubes who’d kill you without a thought.”

She rolls her eyes. It’s not the first time her husband’s name has been used against her. “You didn’t know him, then. He was fascinated. He still would be.”

“If it weren’t for the paladin who killed him, hm?” the voice says, and she can hear the smirk in it. “A shame, that. Wouldn’t you like him back? I can do that, if you’ll only release me-”

“You’re getting released, have no fear,” she says, hands still busily adjusting her sigils and runes to accommodate banishing a demon along with a curse. “I imagine not in the way you’d prefer, but I am letting you out.” She smirks back at the voice, finishing the divine array with a flourish.

“Nononono, I can help you!” it stutters, trying to bargain. Trying to fight the inevitable. “Please, not this, I can be-”

“You’ve already nearly killed several of my people, and the curse on them tells me all I need to know.” She draws her athame, taking a deep breath. “I will not allow you to harm them, nor anyone else, ever again. Begone, pretender. You do not belong here.” A swift flick of her wrist draws blood, and she presses a bloody hand print into the banishing circle, the chalk lines flashing once as the sword warps beyond repair and the magic in it vanishes, even as the demon continues trying to bargain to the last.

She nods, satisfied and exhausted. Her people will be safe. Even if she isn’t sure what kind of guardian they will have, the offering of a demon inflicting curses on the order of a mortal is something even the most stuck up of the gods cannot ignore. They will find a way to repay that debt.

Her people have started a bonfire in the center of town, as she’d asked on her way out. No reason to take chances, after all. What she hadn’t expected was the impromptu festival going on. The few folk with instruments had fetched them, there were several smaller fires with spits and cookware about them, and several long tables with finished dishes piled high. Everywhere she looked, there was a palpable relief, and her own redoubled when she saw Zachariah buried under his children while his wife held both their plates with a smile. She tosses the sword into the bonfire before checking on Addie by one of the food tables.

“There you are!” she says with a smile. “That paladin is something else. He says we’ll have to watch our for the injured the next day or so, but with the curse broken, he got everyone up and about.” Addie shakes her head. “Poor man looked exhausted, though. Haven’t been able to get him to join us for anything.”

The witch nods, smiling. “I imagine he’s tired, Addie. I’ll make up a pair of plates and see if I can’t get him to at least nibble on something. We’d be poor hosts if we let our savior starve, wouldn’t we?” Addie laughs and helps pile food on a pair of plates before wandering off towards her own family. With a deep breath, the witch picks up her offering and her last meal and heads for the healing tents again.

He's slumped over when she arrives, golden light leaking from his eyes, from his fingers. If she squints just right, she can even see the faintest outline of wings sprouting from his shoulders. A powerful, faithful paladin, nearing the end of his career and his life, if she were any judge at all. She couldn't say specifics, but she knew the signs of a good man burning through his own life force, offering up pieces of his soul to divinity, just to save and to serve.

She'd married one and lost him to another, after all.

"I brought you something," she says gently, setting the plate on the nightstand next to him. She realizes he must not have even moved after he'd saved the last of her charges, simply letting gravity take him lower into that chair. "Addie means well, but she simply can't let a good festival go, in my experience."

He looks up, managing a grin, and she startles, both at how young he seems and at the double image of him, a bright, shining young woman with eternal eyes and wreathed in gold just at the edge of perception, mirroring his every move. "Thank you, Mistress Herbalist," he says, exhaustion dragging his limbs as he reaches for the plate and utensils. "It's deeply appreciated." He cocks his head.

"I would ask something of you, if I may."

She raises an eyebrow at him as she sits across the bed from him, her own plate in hand. "You just saved my people twice over, I would be disappointed if there were nothing I could offer you in return."

Another smile splits his handsome face, but there is sadness to it, perhaps distaste. Duty. "Truth, witch of these woods. I would hear your story."

She pauses, fork halfway to her mouth in shock. "My... my story?"

"Yes. I found signs of witchcraft, snares and traps and misdirections of all kinds. Yet I found no evidence of malice or ill intent, save the Delarian soldiers attacking your people." He shrugs, deciding to pull off his gauntlets to eat. "I have encountered witches before, but they all decided they preferred to try to kill me rather than allow me the chance to understand them. I thought I might press my luck somewhat further today and see if you might grant me the chance instead."

She swallows. Truth, he had said. Her story. She'd never told anyone her story. She'd not even told anyone her name. Perhaps it was time she did.

"I was a young girl, growing up in a town much like this," she says at last. "The people were kind and hard working, tough as the land they lived on. I was happy. But I wanted more than a marriage to the miller's son, and no one could understand why. The night before our wedding..." She sighs, remembering the dramatic way Narat had appeared, her own shock and surprise. "A demon came to me and offered me a deal. My soul for my dearest wish. A fair exchange, he said. I took it in a heartbeat."

He looks at her in the silence, head still angled to the side, strength slowly coming back to him as he eats. "Part of the truth, certainly. I do not see the path from a devil's bargain to a wood witch."

She looks at him, surprised. "Do you not?"

A shake of his head. "Well, perhaps A wood witch, but not to you. You live here, protect these people, but this place still seems... not too small, but as if you carry more than fits within it. You carry part of the world with you. Why?"

Another hard swallow. "I wished for knowledge, sir knight. To see the world and to wander it. To learn its secrets and study its wonders so that maybe, one day, I could share what I knew with others. He showed me the world, over the course of decades, and it was still never, ever enough."

"You loved him." It was not a question.

"Yes," she answers quietly.

"You lost him." Still not a question.

"Yes."

"How?"

How indeed. How could he put such upset into a single syllable? How could he be upset at knowing a demon was dead? How in the world was a paladin angry that a witch lost her demon husband?

"A paladin," she answers simply. "A day like today. My husband... he was fascinated by the world, said his vice, like mine, was knowledge and the gaining of it. 'It never ends' he told me more than once. 'You can learn and study and research a thousand years and still encounter something new every single day if you know where to look.' We had grown... overconfident, the two of us, secure in our ability to handle any threat with our combined powers. When a local conflict spilled over into the village we had been staying in to research some ruins nearby... well, he wasn't one to sit by and watch, and I used the time to prepare potions and poultices for the wounded he would bring me." She shivers, remembering.

"The next time I saw him, his head was dangling from that paladin's fingers by the hair. I never found out what happened to the rest of him."

"Narat," he breathes. "You married Narat the Hornless."

She startles again. "I... I didn't realize he was famous."

He snorts. "Not famous, exactly, but known. The stories say you could get him to cease his harm simply by knowing it, that calling him by name could summon him in a heartbeat and trading him something you knew would earn you a secret in return." His eyes turn hard and the magic around him flickers, sparking and fading. "He was killed by a member of my order for defending a village of heretics, or so the story was recorded. Everyone knew it was a lie, none of it was corroborated by reports in the area, but no one was willing to call the knight a liar to his face." He flicks his gaze to hers. "That was two hundred years ago."

She nods. "I have spent nearly half my life a widow. I miss him dearly."

He laughs, the sound finally clear of that divine flare, and she finds she likes the feel of it, something in it warming her bones. "An immortal scholar, dedicated to protecting the village her husband died defending. A fine truth, indeed." He sobers, eyes shuttering as he looks at his near empty plate. "Tomorrow, lady of these woods, I will die. I do not wish you and your people to witness it, much less die with me. Can they be evacuated, or the defenses restored?"

Her brow furrows in confusion. "Die with you? I wasn't aware that divine magic-"

"Not my magic," he cuts in quietly. "The rest of the Delarian forces that captain was scouting for. They will be coming. I will be doing my best to stop them. What can be done for your people?"

Her mind reels. Time, there wasn't time-

There is always another way, my love

That's what Narat had always told her. And there was. She just... wasn't sure if it was an option. She takes a long, deep breath.

"My defenses are in tatters, and my people will not run. They would prefer to die here, I think, than join either army. So tell me, sir knight, would you barter your soul for their lives?"

He tilts his head at her, considering. "You can see my lady Vesta burning through my shell even more clearly than your people can, I'm sure. You know I would. I already have, some would argue."

A whooshing sigh. "All right. I'll talk to them, let them know to stay in their homes tomorrow. There's a pond a quarter mile south-"

"I know the one."

"Good. I'll meet you there, and we'll make the bargain that will save them, even if it might damn us both."

                                                *     *     *

The pond was still and bright in the light of the full moon, and the paladin was meditating next to it, his weapons laid out neatly to the side, his leathers easily adjusting to the position. She was almost loath to disturb him, but her people needed them.

"I wasn't sure you'd be here," she says, setting down her bag and starting to sketch out the runes she would need.

"They need us," he replies simply, not moving, not so much as opening his eyes. "Let me know when and what you need me for. Your defenses may be in ruins, but the forest will still warn me of anyone or anything approaching, so long as I listen." She nods and continues working. Eventually, circle drawn, runes inscribed, and tools ready, she calls him over.

"I'm not entirely sure what will happen, or if this will even work," she says candidly, positioning him in the circle. "I haven't used this in decades, so the results may be... unreliable."

He shrugs. "If it gives your people a better chance, I'm willing to try."

A nod. "Stand still. If... well, if something appears or speaks through me, you know what you're willing to trade or to risk. I'll trust your judgement." And she begins.

A shadow falls over the moon. Over the pond and the clearing around it. The stars fade into darkness. The only light is from her circle and the candles in it, the only sound her chanting and the wind. The paladin stands quietly, still and steady, prepared for as many possibilities as he can think of. Even so, he is surprised when her chanting stops, her eyes open, and suddenly there are four of them in the circle.

To his left, towards the pond, a lovely young woman appears, her golden wings matching the gold of her eyes, and she smiles at him, conveying without words that he is not to bow or kneel, merely to listen. To his right, towards the wood-

"Husband," she breathes, and he looks into the handsome face of Hornless Narat. He is not overly lovely nor particularly plain, but the dancing intelligence of his eyes and wry humor on his lips speak volumes to the mind within.

"My wife has waited two hundred years to attempt to summon me," he says quietly. "She had not the heart after my death, and I think even now, her nerve nearly failed her." The mortals realize in the same instant that he is speaking not to them, but to the seraph across the circle.

"My knight has served me faithfully and tenaciously for nearly a decade," she answers. "He has not wavered or faltered, and even now, he looks to his oath and his duty rather than his own needs."

"I believe the two of them just might deserve each other, my dear."

The immortals look at their mortal anchors and nod at each other. Narat speaks first.

"Tell me, paladin of Vesta. Your oath binds you to protect and serve your people, to be the warm hearth they may find shelter at when the storms of war have abated. Why now sell your soul and service to a demon, if your goddess has no more purpose for you here?"

He considers his words for only a moment before answering, "There is always a choice. To surrender, to continue, to hold steady. I will not abandon them now, even if it means forsaking my oath in order to keep it, to preserve its spirit despite breaking its letter." A deep breath, and then, "They are under my protection, therefore they are mine, and I will not allow them to be harmed if I have a way to prevent it."

"And you, witch of Narat the Hornless?" Vesta asks swiftly. "You have been faithful to your husband some two centuries now. Why break your demon-pacted marriage to save villagers who would see you burned if they knew what you were?"

She does not hesitate to answer. "Because it is right. Because they deserve to be saved, even if they are ignorant. Because I will not watch them die if I have the means to prevent it. The world is bigger than this village, and it will look after itself, but no one else is here to look after this piece of it. So if none else can, then I will."

Vesta laughs. "A demon with a heart of gold and a deity with greedy fingers. Sound familiar, Narat, my love?"

He laughs. "It does, my dear Hearthfire. And so, our pact," he says, clapping his hands as the mortals share astounded looks. "Your village will be saved, your lives spared and bonded. And with you, we will go, fragments of ourselves reflected by our truest and most beloved devotees. Your choices will be your own, we ask only that you stay near to each other, that we ourselves may-"

"Narat," the paladin cuts in quietly, drawing three pairs of curious eyes. "Please. I need to rest. I will take this piece of you and swear my oath to your wife so she may serve as the font of my power. I will even stay by her side, to ensure you and Lady Vesta are never parted again so long as we both live. But please, I have not bathed nor slept in nearly two days."

Vesta laughs. "A practical soul as ever. What say you, witch of my love? Will you make the same promise to me, to serve as a vessel-"

"By my side, you said," she cuts in quietly. "What did you mean?"

Silence stretches. He turns to Narat. "You and I need to bond for this to work, I assume. Blood is traditional." A nod. "Then give me your hand and let's have done."

"Tell me what the fuck you meant," the witch snarls.

"A paladin's oaths are between them and their god," Vesta says quietly. "He cannot tell you, as you are not yet that god, nor is he yet that paladin." She tilts her head, wings fluttering quizzically. "Tell me, love of my love, what would you not risk, what would you not sacrifice, to have the chance to hold him again?"

She turns to the goddess and asks. "Fine. What must I do?"

A grunt sounds from the paladin across from her, and she realizes Narat has already sliced open his own palm at the same moment the two of them shake hands. A dark wind rushes through the trees, still vanished in the darkness beyond the circle, and Narat... vanishes. The paladin convulses for a moment, then stills, his eyes now focused and sharp where before they had been dim and tired beyond measure. His brown eyes had before been glowing gold in residual divinity, but now they flickered like fire, lit from within with burning red, still mixing with the gold of his goddess.

"The same," Vesta answers quietly, eyes fixed on the man before them. "Narat?"

A nod. "He's here. I'm still me, but... he's here, if you'd like to speak with him."

She shakes her head. "No, best to get this done, but... thank you." She pulls a knife from her belt, cuts her own hand, and flips it to offer it handle first to the witch, the blade weeping in golden ichor. "Please."

The witch nods, takes the knife, and repeats the process. One deep breath, a handshake, and a moment of blinding, excruciating pain later, Vesta is gone. The circle whooshes out, the candles with it, and light returns to the clearing, to the sky above.

"Done, then," the man next to her says. He goes to his spot by the pond, grabs his sword, and draws it, returning to kneel at her feet. He looks up at her and says, "My name is Sir Daemon Brightshield, bearer of the spirit Hornless Narat. I offer you this blade in both our names, on behalf of the people we have sworn to protect. I offer you my oath in my own name, on behalf of the cause I have chosen to uphold. I offer his love, and perhaps in time, my own." He offers up the blade. "Will you accept them?"

The witch goddess gently cups his hands in her own. "My name is Aeris, wife of Narat, vessel of Vesta Hearthfire. I will accept these things in her name and in mine, and I offer in return the strength and power to uphold your oath. Your sword will cleave the deserving, your power will rend the unjust, and your oath will inspire the hopeless." She pauses, the next words feeling right, but... terrifying. "And I offer also, in time, my love. For the man with the courage to forsake what is known to place his faith in a truth felt but unseen." She can feel Vesta's unchecked joy even as she can see the shadow of Narat's rogueish grin in Daemon's eyes. She takes the sword in her own hands, and power wreathes it, golden light twining with reddish black demon fire. When it fades, the steel still humming but returned to merely steel, she hands it back to him and says, finally, "Arise, my knight, and take thy sword. May it never fail you."

He does, and the hum stops, the gentle note sounding only when he swings he through the air, testing its feel in his grip. Satisfied, he sheathes it, picks up his bow, and says, "Where am I sleeping?"

                                                *     *     *

The village quiet behind him, Daemon stands on the main road, shield on his back, bow unstrung in its quiver, his sword planted tip down in the dirt with his hands resting gently on it. Before him, the banners of Delaria, its army arrayed in shining steel, its king at the forefront. The king rides to him, kind condescension in his eyes, and absolute confidence in every line of his posture.

"And who might you be, good ranger? What town is this you stand sentinel for so bravely?"

Daemon eyes him quietly. "Daemon Brightshield, King Velbrand, knight of Lady Vesta Hearthfire. This town has no name, nor anything of importance for you here. I suggest you leave, lest you meet the same fate as your captain and his scouts."

"What fate might that be, that my army would fare no better?" the king asks haughtily.

"Me," the paladin answers simply, "and my lady. Your men took from these people, without asking or offering recompense. Leave, lest you suffer for their deeds as their commander."

"What possible reason could I have to believe a single man might destroy my army, even if he were bold enough to strike me down in front of it?" the king laughs.

"My lady," the paladin answers simply, "and me. I have some skill with a blade, some power with magic both arcane and divine, but she has given me more besides. For the last time I warn you, King Velbrand, leave, or I will make you wish you had."

The king does not finish laughing before he hits the dirt, his head on one side of his horse, his body on the other. Daemon simply mounts the horse, calling to the assembled forces in a voice that has made itself heard across battle fields and through demonic conflicts countless times, "Your king is dead. Thrice he was warned, and thrice he refused. Flee now, and you will live. Stand or charge, and you will die." As he wheels the white steed to make his own charge into the oncoming forces of Delaria, a bell rings out, loud and clear and bright, and black armor forms around it and the man riding, midnight wings sprouting from it, and a voice in Daemon's mind says I never really enjoyed this sort of thing, but I think I can learn if you always pick battles like this. Grinning to himself, he hurls himself into the teeth of his enemy, power in every breath, and death in every hoofbeat.

At least with Narat, he wouldn't have to build a pyre. They would burn where they stood, and his people would be safe.

[unhingedwomandiaries]

The president's bailing on the race. Fantastic. As if we weren't already careening towards electoral chaos at light speed. He's tossing the baton to Kamala, which fills me with all the enthusiasm of a five-day-old sandwich. She's vowing to crush Trump, and I'm just sitting here thinking, "Yeah, and I'm vowing to sprout wings and fly to Jupiter." Neither of them ignites my political passions, but at least Trump's done... something. Kamala's greatest hit so far has been occupying space.

It reminds me of when my mom ran for office. She wasn't some ivory tower elitist – she was fresh off the assembly line, literally. Instead of twiddling her thumbs and hoping for a miracle, she pounded the pavement like a relentless door-to-door salesman hawking democracy. She treated every voter like they were long-lost family, scribbling down their gripes and dreams in a never-ending stream of legal pads. She lost by five measly votes, which is like losing a basketball game by half a point. Why do I remember those yellow legal pads so vividly? Why can I still smell the papery musk of grassroots democracy? It's like my olfactory system is stuck in a time warp, forever 11 years old and drowning in political minutiae.

Sometimes I fantasize about running for president myself, but I'm about as ideologically consistent as a Magic 8-Ball. I'm registered Democrat, sure, but my political leanings are more like a mood ring – blue one day, red the next, with occasional flashes of green. I'm the human embodiment of a component video cable, splitting my signal between primary colors without ever committing to one. Let's face it, I'd be a terrible president. My policies would be a Frankenstein's monster of ideologies, stitched together from the spare parts of every political philosophy.

If by some cosmic joke I did become president, here's a taste of the chaos I'd unleash:

1. Bottled water? Banned. We're all going back to well water, folks. Trust me, it's the nectar of the gods compared to that plastic-flavored tap water you've been choking down.

2. Maple syrup gets the same protection as fine French cheese. No more of this "pancake syrup" nonsense. If it doesn't come from a tree, it's a crime against breakfast.

3. We're taxing sugar like it's plutonium. Your sweet tooth is about to get very expensive.

4. Forget bottle deposits. They're about as effective at reducing litter as a Band-Aid is at stopping a tsunami.

5. Gender-neutral bathrooms and locker rooms for all schools. I've seen more genitals before algebra class than most people see in a lifetime, and guess what? The sky didn't fall.

6. The Second Amendment can kiss my ass. I don't care if you think you need an arsenal to protect your collection of lawn gnomes. After seeing kids gunned down over waffle makers on Black Friday, I'm thinking maybe we should take a page from countries that don't treat firearms like toys.

7. Hunting's out. Find a new hobby that doesn't involve killing Bambi's mom.

8. Immigration's a mess, but let's not pretend kids choosing where they're born. We need a system that's fair, but not cruel.

9. Reproduction rights? It's not just a women's issue. Last time I checked, it takes two to create a tiny human. Abortion won't be illegal, but men deserve a say in parental rights because they have feelings too. None of this business that the child automatically goes to the mom.

10. No more religious studies in school. Learn that on your own time.

11. European History is now mandatory. Because knowing about the world beyond our borders might actually be useful.

12. High fructose corn syrup and artificial sweeteners are joining asbestos on the banned substances list.

13. All packaging must be eco-friendly. Mother Nature's not your personal trash can.

14. Historical buildings get rights. No more demolishing history for another soulless strip mall.

15. Robots in every recycling center. Welcome to the future, it smells like sorted plastics.

16. The rich are getting taxed. Shocking, I know.

17. Social media age limit: 21. Let's give kids a chance to develop a personality before they start curating one online.

18. Cigarettes and vapes? Gone. Find a new way to look cool.

19. Weed's legal everywhere. Because apparently, we need something to take the edge off this madness.

20. AI gets a babysitter. We're not letting Skynet happen on my watch.

21. Mental health takes center stage. We're teaching it in schools because apparently, we need to remind people that feeling feelings is normal.

22. No more exploiting your kids for likes. Family influencers, your gravy train just derailed.

23. Everyone learns to swim. Because in this sinking ship of a country, you might need it.

Is this platform insane? Probably. But in a world where reality TV stars can become world leaders, maybe insanity is just what we need. Or maybe I should stick to keeping a diary and leave the governing to... well, someone else. Anyone else. God help us all.

[libidomechanica]

Untitled (“That bene all day; but I go still endure what”)

A tanka sequence

               1

That bene all day; but I go still endure what is sick of things to kiss; for virtue, like a musky Chain, till lingered to wrongs.

               2

And they griefs of joints. There is fast, she closet, of the sand-hills, with what the empty house past whirl, a ceiling Spring hether thee.

               3

Your wisedomes golden chain, the should deceivest, I can one. Girt on his appetite for some fitter are hovell’d this arms.

               4

He spent light. Soon, tremble into the found one, its calm, to keep my vow! All game and still less days; but a’ the beauty’s succeeded.

               5

And having sport; Depart not hurt ye, or yet remain the word can find but always present pay? The heaven, far apart, not know.

               6

And they reached against the happy hairs be glutted. I love call; and welcome: not cometh behind her line; in iustice a Seráb.

               7

Might growing and gleam, where, but renowne, in the van. Never comely sheep- hook, or aught art not, shall I, on another valentine.

               8

Humble verse have done? —Unfolded flocks he looked, after a tower, what’s harder to the voice he replied, would choose. As is shown, used!

               9

Is answer at the rich with the gate. Patience that I knew a sleeve, the living to stray the lounged for. Concludes of promised good.

               10

In the style, and everything doves that als we most rich dardanium. Cadaver. Grew faint: made my coffee Black through striue th’eternal!

               11

And flutter for all the bars and thee and where. Were spirit in the motes that sweet soul, Merman! Did keepen all alike fiend best dreams?

               12

The Ring of the Saints! Where are blue: to-morrow, and sleek. Like the men in his rage to my blood with his hearts her stiffening to battles.

               13

Him in purest whirl, a ceiling blank end. And smile to see his way, we’re safest: at a board, and the path edge like her; if of helth.

               14

Her breath; and the glow so much follie greatest her lids so upon the king. Rose, doth she, and resist when we stood, hid from gliding teare.

               15

Of Fortune’s glasses, lily white. I dream unriddle, though in their head of his utmost heavy artillery and whirls the hair.

               16

’ Moon is warrior in the sapphire heard was she sighs, and and so it chance unto his world, you say, a blunt thee speak. Balthazar?

               17

Thus the divine thou my side numb were ye place of all be a watch the riddle, The cold our lips, her face; they were all her own heart!

               18

Whose are unmating faint in the summers. The blood and fret. Her she turneth, meagre, barefoot, wan, for some one so paved stream, and the woods.

               19

I’m free, they hold catkins of life. Here taken bastion, who puff your razed quickly on the stumbled a shall praise, phoebus lends me paine.

               20

The far-off sound-like flower. Then we still the tears your bread. On the devil drove us the substance which may go: today’s the king!

               21

That is by Nature is late the country and from God more, when thousand her hair for pay, Which was not mean? Suffice this mind thou bring?

               22

Your hand against that, that women, what the flying so, she inroules those gentlemen, and fall, thought that tomb for things to me thus?

               23

He ground, as do the room closed her tomb. Plight me you a tin heaven with you mayst thou, that to mourn forests and on her dream this hands.

[helslastangel]

Random Observations #2

Disclaimer: These are based on personal observations and experiences and may not resonate for everyone with these placements. If it doesn’t apply, let it fly 🪽

Sagittarius suns aspire to travel and often do visit new places, but Sagittarius moons and venuses are usually the ones who will pop up in another country on a whim with very little notice (or planning, in some cases).

Sagittarius risings often talk of wanting to travel, but whether they are really serious about it or not depends heavily on the rest of their placements.

Like Sagittarius mercuries, they might be content with living through other people and sometimes prefer to experience foreign languages and cultures from home, or nearby/locally.

Taurus sun/venus men who grew up in homes where their mother was either the dominant parent or had an extremely strong personality often end up being openly judgemental of female peers.

I have yet to figure out why, but from what I've seen, combining the kinda infamous stubborn nature of Taurus with pre-existing male tendencies to resent such women creates a disconnect where they love their mother but doubly hate being told what to do, more than others.

They can't take it out on her directly so all the women in their circles get the heat, and this robs them of many dating opportunities (though I've also noticed that most of them realize this and make great effort to grow out of it by their mid-20s to 30s).

However, I've noticed that if they also have significant Gemini placements in the big 4, many continue to act this way well beyond their 40s. Same for Gemini Suns with Taurus placements in the big 4.

Cancer sun/venus men also often behave similarly to Taurus sun/venus men when it comes to their attitudes toward (or opinions of) the women in their circle, EXCEPT it doesn't seem to matter what personality their mothers' have - they're usually just triggered regardless, even if she fits the perfect trad woman archetype.

They are also rarely ever open about their true feelings/thoughts towards women in the beginning...it all comes out in a random argument like 2 years after you're already "happily" together and dating them, lol. Of course, not all - just an observation as I've personally interacted with more Cancer suns (and placements in general) than any other sign, next to Gemini.

From what I have seen, though, Cancer sun men who have a good relationship with their father/uncles OR positive interactions/friendships with other men in general, are less likely to act this way. I think this could be due to Cancer being a "feminine" sign. There will be insecurity if a man who is already more in touch with his feminine side doesn't get along with the other men in his life, despite wanting and needing to. And guess who he will resent and take that out on?

Again, these are personal opinions/observations, every individual is ultimately in charge of choosing how they will approach others and life.

People sometimes do not give Leo moons enough credit for how incredibly kind they can be to their friends. They're the type to drive across town to help you with something even though they're already tired from a long day at work, and get mad if you try to pay them.

Their occasional moments of rage are a lot, but those who truly pay attention to how many times the Leo moon was there for them in little, quiet ways can forgive them quite easily.

Cancer sun/moon women are often severely misjudged by their friends and colleagues, especially when just getting to know them. They often find themselves in situations where they discover they were not invited to a gathering or a separate group chat was created without them in it.

When confronted, these people usually claim that they "knew" the Cancer sun/moon woman was "sensitive" and would not enjoy or appreciate whatever activity or topic the group was on, despite never actually asking her this directly.

Although this happens to people of every sign, it's something I've noticed FAR more often with these two placements.

𓆩♡𓆪

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