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sentientcave · 12 hours ago

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Masquerade

You've come to this masquerade ball to finally dispatch the man you've wanted dead for nearly ten years, but he's always ruining your plans, one way or another.

Contains: 2nd POV OC (sorry about all the blushing), werewolf MMC (sadly he doesn't do any fun werewolfy things he's just a guy with sharp teeth here), vague fantasy setting, murder attempts/reminiscence of murder attempts, a long and storied history only alluded to, what do you do when your bitter enemy turns out to be a silly little guy who just wants you to love him?, oral sex (w receiving), P in V sex, this spawned a whole ass novel and it's so so different but this lowkey holds up.

See end for Notes

~10k words - NSFW - 18+ MDNI

“My, don’t you look exquisite,” a voice purrs in your ear.

You freeze in place, glad that the mask hides the colour that springs to your cheeks. You feel like a naughty child caught with your hand in the cookie jar, an unwelcome guest at his masquerade. You thought you could escape notice, slip through the crowd of finely dressed nobles and plunge your knife into his chest at last. But he had managed to find you first. You weren’t ready. You hadn’t been to the garden to pick up your hidden cache of weapons, you had nothing but your silver hair-stick to dispatch him with.

His heavy hands land on your shoulders. “Don’t muss up your pretty hairstyle just yet, darling,” he whispers in your ear, his voice rasping like sandpaper. It’s as if he can read your thoughts. Or perhaps, after all these years, you’re simply predictable. “There will be plenty of time for that later.”

You flinch at the cold press of his mask against your bare shoulder. You shouldn’t have disguised yourself as a guest. You feel defenceless, wrapped in silk and sheer chiffon, a neat little morsel delivered straight into the wolf’s jaws. He could shift in a second and shred you into little pieces, like he had threatened to do so many times before. You try to still your frightened, thumping heart, and pull away, turning to face him at last. “I’m afraid I’m not sure what you mean,” you say, because it’s worth a try at least, but he’s laughing before you can even finish, the smiling mouth of his gold wolf mask mocking you. His yellow eyes glitter from it’s depths, watching you.

“Oh darling, I would recognize you anywhere. I hoped you would be unable to resist my invitation.”

“Your invitation?”

“Yes, dearest. All of this was for you. I knew you could not resist the chance to get so close to me again.”

“To kill you,” you remind him hoarsely.

He chuckles and takes your hand. “Perhaps. For now, a dance, I should think. You haven’t danced all night.”

You dig in your heels, trying to resist his insistent pull, but he simply wraps an arm around your waist and tugs you closer. “I don’t dance,” you tell him sharply. “Let go of me.”

“You’re a liar,” he replies, spinning you into place, one hand on your lower back, pinning you against his chest, and the other still clasped around your wrist, sliding up to engulf your hand. He simply tugs you along with him as he moves, sweeping you along to the music, holding you so unbearably close. He could lift you off your feet with ease, if he chose to, and you don’t have enough power to resist. His scent clouds your mind, cedar soap and clean, animal musk, one of many hints of the wolf that dog him even in his human shape. “You forget, I knew you in your past life. Or have you forgotten that I once sat in your father’s halls? I have seen you dance.”

It was so long ago now, another life, before he was only the wolf to you, and before you were the thorn in his paw, that you almost had forgotten. You had hardly given him a second thought at first, he was just another visiting knight, here one day and gone the next, handsome, but beyond the concerns of the girl you once were. “You failed to make an impression,” you tell him sharply, although it’s not true. You do remember his yellow eyes watching you one night, though he never asked you to to dance. He never spoke to you at all.

Not until after. He saved you, of course, from the bloodbath, because he had claimed you. He hadn’t so much as said a word to you before he burst into your bedchamber, monstrous jaws dripping with your fathers blood, yellow eyes wild. You still remembered beating him back with the fire-place’s iron poker, and jamming the tip into his chest before you ran for your life.

“I knew you were mine from the first,” he continues. He seems frighteningly aware of your thoughts, as if his own version of the memory is playing out behind his own eyes. “My lioness, avenging her wicked father with a poker. I still bear your mark, just above my heart.” He presses your entwined hands to his chest for a moment. “I’m certain you remember that, at least.”

“Unfortunately.”

“The only unfortunate part,” he says patiently. “Is that I did not take you as my mate that night.”

His words lance through you like lightning, burning everything in their path. Your knees nearly buckle, and if he were not holding you so securely, you would sink to the floor in a useless puddle of silk. How dare he make you weak, after everything he’s done to you? But anger gives you strength, reinforces your spine with steel, and you wrench away, glaring at him, wishing you could set him ablaze with your eyes.

The music falters. You look up, at the musicians gallery, then around the room. Everyone watches, pretending not to, jewelled masks concealing furtive eyes and whispered words. Your own mask feels insufficient, lightweight and flimsy under the wolf’s eyes when your eyes return to him. He takes your arm, his grip tight, but not bruising, and guides you out of the ballroom, into the cold night air. The dark gardens are just a little too far for you to jump down from the wide stone balcony, and there are no stairs leading down. If you jump, you’d probably break your leg, and then you’d be helpless.

“What do you think of our home?” he asks. “Have you snooped around yet, my darling? Planned all your exits and hidden away your weapons and armour? I made sure you’d have plenty of opportunity. I know how you love to prepare.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t found them already.”

“I have been busy with other preparations,” he says mildly. “But I thought I smelled something of you in the corridor by the library.”

You flinch, only confirming that you had in fact been there, hiding your leather armour inside a large vase. “Preparations for what?”

“Your homecoming. The king has made it clear that it’s time to reign you in, or he will have someone else deal with you.” He pulls the mask off at last, setting the golden wolf on the balcony. Sweat glimmers at his temples, catching light from the ballroom behind them. He offers you a wry smile, his sharp white teeth flashing. “I’ve been too lenient with you.”

“Lenient?” you ask, incredulous. “I’ve been trying to kill you.”

“Those who attempt such things do not usually live long,” he reminds you. “I don’t often show mercy. I’ve allowed you to live free, in the hopes that you would come to me willingly, in time. Now it seems I can no longer afford to continue our little game. You will stay with me, or someone else will be sent to arrest or kill you.”

You press your palms into the smooth railing, wishing desperately that you could absorb the cool, dependable steadiness of stone through your skin. You look at him for a moment while he stares out over the dark gardens, his yellow eyes tracking movement you can’t see.

He’s always dressed in black, like a man in mourning, his black curls cropped short around his slightly pointed ears, beard neatly trimmed. He wears little jewellery for a man of his station, just the yellow-gold signet ring with it’s heavy, dark blue sapphire on his finger, and the gleam of jet buttons down the front of his tunic. You were more used to seeing him in his armour. The heavy black plate suits his brutality better than black-embroidered silk.

Silk offers no protection, no shield over his wicked black heart.

You pull the hairpin from your own neatly arranged curls and move fast, striking at his chest, but he catches your hand easily, his amber eyes meeting your fury with amusement. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?” he asks. “Stubborn creature.”

He plucks the pin from your hand and spins you around, pushing you into the railing with the oppressive weight of his presence. Your protests are weak and hardly noticed, but you fall silent when you feel the rough pads of his fingertips on the back of your neck. He gathers your hair up and pins it back in place, not as neatly as you had done earlier, but sufficiently.

“What are you doing?” you ask numbly.

He turns you around, still standing far too close. You stare forward, at the point where his skin meets the collar of his tunic, your eyes glued to his pulse. You wish for teeth as sharp as his own, so you could tear out his throat. His fingers curl under your chin, nudging your face up, forcing you to look him in the eye again. “Just returning your pin,” he says, smirking. “Why do you seem so flustered, darling?”

“Why don’t you just kill me?” you ask. Your hand lifts up to knock his away, but you touch him instead, fingertips ghosting over his knuckles. You know he’s capable of crushing you with hardly a thought. You’ve spent the last ten years learning all you could about him, hunting him down again and again and again with a single-minded determination. He likely could have killed you a thousand times over, if you’d been just a little less careful, or he a little less eager to capture you instead. He should have killed you. You don’t know how to stop anymore, you don’t know how to let go of the terrible anger that burns you up every time you think of him. You want him to suffer, to lose everything, to hurt the way he hurt you. “I’ll never stop.”

There is a flicker of sadness in his eyes, and it pings against your heart uncomfortably. “I never could,” he says, all traces of his smirking, superior air gone. His thumb strokes along your jaw. “I begged the king for your life. Your father may have been a traitor, but you were an innocent girl, and I do not enjoy killing innocents.”

“I’m not innocent anymore.”

“No, I suppose not. But you’ve committed no crimes that I cannot forgive.”

“I don’t want your forgiveness.” Your voice is hardly more than a hoarse whisper. You want to shout, but his hand on your skin seems to leech all the power out of you.

“You have it regardless,” he whispers back, low and intimate as a lover. He touches his forehead to your mask, his eyes boring into yours, twin suns scorching everything in their path. “And someday I will earn yours.”

“Never,” you hiss. You return to your senses and push his hands away, shoving hard against his chest. “I hate you. I’ll always hate you.”

He tugs your mask off and tosses it to the side, tired of pretense. “If you hate me so much, why does your heart beat like that?”

“I’m afraid of you,” you snap.

He laughs harshly. “No you’re not. You’ve never been afraid of anything, my darling. It is one of the things I love best about you.” He leans in closer, the tip of his nose just brushing yours. You can feel his breath on your skin, the sharp smells of whiskey and mint setting your nerves on edge. For a moment, you think he’s going to kiss you, and you freeze, heart pounding, face turned towards him, waiting for the axe to fall.

But he withdraws instead, leaving you to face the consequence of unrealized want. His words prick at you like the point of a sword. Love. As if he would know the first thing about it. As if he knew you.

But he does know you, you realize with a start. He made you. His actions had set you on your path, and his choice not to kill you, each time that he should have, had created the determined, single-minded, furious woman that you had become. The carefree girl who you had been was long gone, dead the first time the wolf’s jaws closed around your throat. It burns you to think that he’d shown you mercy all along, that you had escaped capture or death by his leave, rather than by your own cunning and skill.

His eyes remain on your face, reading your thoughts like you’re a book laying open, waiting for him to happen by and discover all your secrets. “You have become worthy of me,” he continues ardently, pressing your hand to his chest again, anchoring it with both of his own. “I would have kept you like a bird in a cage if I’d taken you then. A pretty thing to amuse me and adorn my halls. But you are no trophy, my love. You will not survive in captivity. Even now, with the king’s sword hanging over your head, I will not force you to stay.”

“Is this some sort of trick?”

“I used to wonder the same thing. A cruel trick of fate, that my mate would hate me so fiercely.”

“You killed my father,” you hiss at him. You yank your hand away, desperately stoking the anger that has kept him at bay all these years. Each time he calls you mate and darling and love your resolve quakes, and you have no sword in your hand to make him regret it, like you usually would.

“He was a traitor. I had orders.”

“And what comfort will that be when your orders are to kill me?” you ask, sneering up at him. “What will you do when your orders are explicit and undeniable, and you are to kill me on sight?”

“I’ll never see you again.”

You aren’t sure what you expected, exactly, but it always trips you up when he speaks plainly. “What’s that supposed to mean?” you snap.

“What do you think it means?” He hurls the words back at you, his anger lighting from your own. “It means I would pluck my own eyes out before I’d kill you. If the king ordered me to hunt you down I’d stay one step behind you until we reached the very ends of the earth. If he came outside this very moment and told me to snap your neck—” He shudders, shaking his head like a dog shakes off the rain, and when he looks back at you the anger is gone, hidden away again behind his steely resolve. “Loyalty only goes so far. He knows not to make an order I cannot follow. If he truly wants you dead, he’ll ask another.” He glances over his shoulder, keen yellow eyes fixing on a point somewhere inside. “I hope it does not come to even that.”

“But why?”

He lets go of your shoulders and turns around, stalks a few feet away, and turns again, pushing both of his hands through his hair in frustration. Because I love you!” he snarls. “You had me the first day you tried to run me through. Oh I wanted you from the first moment I laid eyes on you, beautiful thing that you are, but it was the first moment that you tried to cut my heart out that I knew there could be no other. You have no idea what it’s like, to love such a stubborn, foolish, bitch of a woman? Do you understand what it will do to me, when you leave? But I have never been able to keep you by force.”

“But you let me go,” you say numbly. “You said—”

“Let you go?” He laughs, striding back towards you. “Oh my love, you misunderstand. Just because I couldn’t kill you does not mean I didn’t try to keep you. But you have slipped every chain I’ve placed upon you. I’ve never pulled my punches. I would not disrespect you so.”

“You called it a game—”

He inclines his head towards you. “I did. Perhaps I should not have. But it was easier to think of it as a game. A test of my own worthiness. I admit, I have always looked forward to your attempts on my life. It’s good, I think, for a man to be beaten once in a while, to keep him sharp. Otherwise he forgets to be vigilant.” He sighs, touching the edge of an old, silvery scar on your shoulder, brushing a loose strand of your hair out of the way. “Besides. We’ve both made our marks upon the other.”

“I’ve gotten you more times than you have me,” you say, lifting your chin imperiously. “Two or three times I really thought I’d finished you off.”

“Are you so certain of that?”

You think about it. “Yes.”

“Care to make a wager, dearest? If you’ve left more marks on me than I on you, you may ask anything of me.”

You draw in a steady breath. “And if I lose?”

He grins. “Not so confident now, are you? I only want what is freely given, so you needn’t worry. You can name your own penalty.”

“How magnanimous.”

“I can be,” he says. “Now, shall we inspect each other here, or would you prefer somewhere more private?”

The thought of being alone with the wolf makes you shiver, but it’s not revulsion that you feel, it’s something far worse. The dark, cold balcony seems a world away from the golden ballroom with all it’s legions of beautiful, elegant guests, but it’s only panes of glass that separates you from them, hazy from condensation, opaque enough that you doubt anyone can see through them. It makes no material difference, in the end, but it’s winter, and the cold seeps through your dress easily, your skin only warm where he touches you. “Ah, yes,” you say nervously. “Perhaps somewhere more private.”

“And warmer,” he adds. “As stunning as you look, I do not believe you are dressed for the weather.”

As if on cue, a snowflake descends from the dark sky. You reach out your hand, catching it against your palm. A moment later, the sky is thick with snow, fat, fluffy flakes catching the light and turning the world white. You look back at him. He looks softer, somehow, with that little dusting of snow catching in his thick curls, melting flakes glittering like diamonds on his shoulders. For the first time, you’re struck by how young he looks. He was a man grown at your first meeting, and you had always thought of him as much older, but you know now that he couldn’t be ten years your senior. You suspect it’s much less than that.

It changes something in your perception of him. Softens him.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks, stepping in close again. Although you’ve hardly moved an inch since you came out to the balcony, he’s full of restless energy, moving away and back again like he’s tethered to you by some invisible string. He tilts his head to the side, his keen predator eyes practically glowing in the soft light.

You were glad your face was already flushed from the cold. “I was just thinking. You look so…” You trail off, thinking of the best way to phrase it.

“Handsome?” he suggested. “Strong? Irresistible?” He wiggles his thick black eyebrows, grinning wickedly, making you laugh despite yourself.

“I was going to say young, actually,” you say. “I was wondering what sort of boy you were.”

He holds a hand out to you. “I’m sure there’s a portrait somewhere, if you’re curious. Now come along, pet, I don’t want you catching a cold out here. I do have a wager to win.”

You hesitate. All the ancient, bitter anger and sadness wars with something new in your chest. It’s been so long since you wanted anything more than vengeance. Ages since the last time you felt deep, aching want for someone’s hands on you, if you ever even had. The obsession between you, at least, was mutual, and you had traded the excitement of romance for the thrill of the hunt, the clash of your sword against the wolf’s. His taunting sounded better than flowery poetry to your ears, and you could not help but seek him out every time the loneliness of your new life became too much to bear. He had been your focus, your centre, your reason for existing for so long that you can no longer deny what this is.

Love is not always kind. Between the two of you, it’s become a desperate, wretched thing, living on scraps of attention and hungry looks traded in battle.

His fingers close around yours, and you realize that you’ve reached out and taken the offered hand. You look at him, and he’s smiling in a way you haven’t seen before, half-hitched up on one side, almost shy.

He twines his fingers through yours and leads you back through the ballroom, slipping around the edges of the crowd like the wolf he is. No one seems to pay either of you any mind, although you feel curiously bare without your mask, as visible as a hare in a field to the eyes of a hawk. But your hunter is holding your hand, his thumb stroking over yours soothingly, like he can sense your unease.

Despite that small reassurance, you’re grateful when you step into a nearly empty corridor. A few well-dressed servants carrying trays bustle between the ballroom and the kitchens at the far end, but your wolf leads you the other way, through a few hallways littered with decorative items and portraits of long-dead nobles with eyes that seemed to follow you. You had been there only a few days earlier, but it looks different now. Perhaps it’s that you aren’t on constant guard for the wolf. He’s already here, holding your hand, pretending that he’s not watching you, just as you pretend to look at the portraits and statues and expensive looking vases you pass by, stealing glances at him only when you think you can get away with it.

The silence between you is almost comfortable, both of you too caught up in your individual tumble of thoughts to put anything to words. It’s impossible to tell what he’s thinking. You wonder if he feels like he’s won already, but there’s none of his usual taunting or his infuriatingly handsome smirk. He looks serious, black brows lowered in a sort of pensiveness that you’ve never seen from him. Of course, you had only once gone so long in his company without attacking him physically, and you had been tied to a chair, at the time.

“Do you remember, a few years ago, the hunting lodge just above Lake Pym?” he asks.

You laugh. “I was just thinking about it. Why?”

He stops in front of a door and leans against the frame. “Do you think you’ll be able to go as long without trying to stab me this time around?”

“That depends on whether or not you tie me up again,” you quip back.

“Don’t say such things,” he warns you, opening the door and holding it open, letting go of your hand for the first time in ages. Your fingers feel cold without his touch. “You’ll give me ideas.”

“You’ve made far too many confessions tonight for me to believe that you didn’t already have ideas,” you tease. Funny how easily that comes, like you’re old friends and not enemies. A tidy little fire burns in the stone fireplace, with a cozy arrangement of rugs and furs laid out before it. A low table sits ready, carrying wine and glasses and a few plates of the sort of interesting finger-foods that they had been serving in the ballroom. Raising your eyebrows, you look back over your shoulder at him. He hadn’t spoken to anyone on the way in, which meant that it had been all prearranged.

He closes the door behind himself and leans against it, grinning sheepishly. “I live in hope.”

The room - his room- is neat, a big bed with four posts carved like small trees, green-velvet curtains tied back neatly, is the first sign that he might actually like colour. You imagined him always in sombre black and white, dark hair, white teeth, dressed like the reaper and often so employed. But perhaps he isn’t as stark as you’d always thought. His furniture is solid and well-made of warm-toned wood, and the bookshelves that flank the fireplace are stuffed with books, the odd space cleared out for knick-knacks and trophies. You had never considered that he might like to read. It isn’t something that has ever come up before.

The wolf sits down on the furs and nudges a black lump by the fire. The shape uncurls into the biggest, fattest, blackest cat you’ve ever seen and pads over to you, sniffing your skirts suspiciously.

“You have a cat?” you ask, because it seems unlike the picture you’ve built up of him over the years. Another thing you missed. You had been so focused on him as an enemy that you had hardly stopped to consider him as a man. You sit, and the cat drapes itself across your lap, purring already in anticipation of a good scratch.

“I don’t have a cat,” he corrects you loftily. “Smudge is the matriarch of a proud line of excellent mousers, and she is a valued member of the household. One cannot own a cat, I have learned. One co-habituates with cats.” He leans over and gives the cat a little scratch under the chin, his knuckles just barely brushing your knee as he withdraws. “She isn’t usually very friendly, but she must recognize a fellow assassin when she sees one.”

“I’m not much of an assassin, I’m afraid she’d be terribly disappointed in me. I’ve failed to kill my only target, and I have been at it for quite some time.” You give the cat a scratch behind the ears. “I’m sure her record is much more impressive.”

He frowns and looked at you in a funny way. “Have you never taken a life?”

“I’ve tried very hard to avoid it. You’re the only person I ever wanted dead, and I— I wanted to be better than you. I wanted my hands to stay clean, so I could beat you and still keep my sense of…” You look down at the purring black puddle of fur in your lap rather than at the wolf. “Oh I don’t know. Righteousness, I suppose.”

“So sweet that you wanted me to be your first,” he teases.

You know he means first kill, but you turn pink anyway, and there is no cold wind to blame for your rosy cheeks this time. There were many firsts that you had missed out on, in your bid for vengeance. “Perhaps I still do,” you snap, not thinking about the double meaning until after the words have left your mouth. You scramble to clarify. “My first kill— Not— Ugh.” He begins to laugh, and you cover your face with both hands, wishing the floor would open up beneath you and swallow you whole. “Stop laughing!” Your voice is muffled by your hands, but there is no way that his keen wolf’s ears don’t hear you perfectly. “That’s not what I meant!”

He snorts. “I know, pet. It’s a bit late for that, I should think.”

You peek at him between your fingers, and his eyebrows shoot up.

“Darling.” He leans over and gently takes hold of your wrists, prying your hands away. He is mercifully no longer laughing, but the look in his eyes only makes your face burn hotter. “Please don’t tell me that you’ve never taken a lover.”

“There was never a good time,” you manage to squeak out. It was half true. There had been offers, and moments when you’d been sorely tempted to share someone’s bed for the night, but the few fumbling kisses you’d shared with young men had failed to thrill you the way that crossing swords with the wolf did.

He sits back with a groan. “You’re always throwing wrenches into my plans.”

“How on earth could that have anything to do with your plans?” you ask hotly.

“Darling, don’t be so naive. My plans were obviously to seduce you into my bed so I could out-perform every man who had ever touched you, forcing you to admit to yourself that we belong together. But I suppose that would have been too easy.”

“Too easy!”

“I would never imply that you would be easily seduced, my love, only that I am fairly confident that you would have a harder time denying what we are if I were to employ my considerable athletic ability with the task of making you come undone.” He smiles ruefully. “But seduction isn’t fair if you’re a virgin. I’ll have to win your heart the old fashioned way.”

“The old fashioned way?” You stare at him, incredulous. “What, you’re going to court me?”

“I’m certainly going to try,” he says, turning toward the table to pour you a glass of wine. “It’s the long road, but you’ll find I’m usually more than willing to take the scenic route.”

“You’re insane,” you say weakly, accepting the offered glass. “You must be.”

“Must I be? Like you said, I’ve made far too many confessions tonight, you must know that I do not mean this as some passing fancy. I think it would be a waste to continue this bloody crusade of yours. For both of us. I confess my bias in the matter, as I rather enjoy living.” He shrugs, looking at you over the rim of his own glass. “Do you? Has your life been all you wished for, these past ten years? You’ve forgone comfort, education, friends, romance, children— Do you want none of those things?”

“Of course I do—”

“Then take them. Everything you want is yours if you stay.” He takes a sip of wine and winces, face screwing up like a child tasting something bitter. “Ugh, I hate wine.”

“I know. I was wondering if you were going to drink from that glass you’ve been waving around.”

“I just wanted to indicate that it wasn’t poisoned.” He sets the glass to the side, still grimacing. “Just in case you were wondering if I was still trying to trick you.”

“It had crossed my mind.”

“Perish the thought, my love.” He stretches out in front of the fire, propped up on one elbow. “I’ve laid down my arms. If you must end this once and for all to free yourself, so be it. But I do think my alternative is better.”

You set your wine to the side as well and reach back to pull the silver hair-stick from your curls. You consider it, for a moment, pressing the point into your fingertip, not quite hard enough to draw blood. He watches with an inscrutable expression, making no move to disarm you. The cat slips out of your lap and stretches, moving off into the shadows again, either unaware or uncaring of the danger to her house mate. Or perhaps she’s simply more aware than you that there is no longer any danger.

You reach out and place the make-shift weapon on the rug in front of him.

The crackle of the fire is the only sound for a long moment. The wolf was rarely rendered speechless— getting him to shut up was usually the more difficult task. But he simply looks at you, like you’ve performed a miracle in front of his very eyes.

You slide one of the plates of food off the table and set it on the floor between you, something to hopefully distract his attention a little. You pick up one of the little triangle pastries and take a bite, catching crumbs with your other hand. You eat two more, realizing that you haven’t eaten in hours, and wait for him to break the silence.

He sighs and rolls onto his back, tucking both hands under his head. Firelight dances over his skin, burnishing his features like well-polished bronze. Although you have known him a long time, you’ve never studied him like this, while his eyes are closed and his usual grin is smoothed out into a peaceful smile. He looks noble, like a hero from the epics you used to read as a girl, more like you remembered from the days before everything changed.

“You’re staring,” he says without cracking an eye.

“How would you know? You haven’t opened your eyes in ages.”

“And how would you know that, if you haven’t been staring?”

He has you there. “Alright, fine. I suppose I was. I was just thinking about… about before.”

He opens his eyes. “How long? We do have a rather storied history, don’t we, love? I myself have been thinking of Lake Pym.”

You smirk. “I bet you have. I had a feeling you were rather enjoying yourself.”

“I was. It would have been more fun if you were a more willing guest, or if I at least didn’t have to keep you tied to a chair the whole time.”

“You wouldn’t even let me feed myself,” you lament, though you can’t help the traitorous note of amusement in your voice. “It was terribly humiliating.”

“Revisionist drivel!” he snarls playfully. “I did untie you so you could feed yourself, and you tried to stab me. You forced my hand.”

You blink. “I suppose I did.”

He leans closer. “I suspected you just wanted me to take care of you. You were too proud to ask me for what you wanted, so you forced the situation. And snapped at my fingers the whole time like an absolute menace.” He holds up his right hand and displays a white mark around the first knuckle of his thumb. “That’s one, by the way.”

“I only bit you because you stuck your finger in my mouth,” you reminded him.

“Ah, I suppose I did get a bit carried away, didn’t I? There was just this moment when I touched your lip…” He reaches out as if he wants to repeat the remembered gesture, perhaps hoping for a better outcome, but he hesitates, dropping his hand. You almost wish he hadn’t. “Are you still too proud, my love?”

“Yes,” you whisper.

He senses your weakness. The way the answer drips with doubt like blood from a wound. “Will you let me kiss you?” He moves closer, anticipating your answer before it leaves your lips.

Your breath catches in your throat. “Yes.”

At long last, he closes the distance between you, hands cradling each side of your face. He just barely brushes his lips against yours, and holds you back when you try to chase him, his familiar wolfish smile lighting up his face. “Not so fast, my darling. You’ll have to ask nicely, if you want a proper kiss.” He unbuttons the cuff of his black shirt only a moment later, his eyes dropping away from yours for a moment, and then rolls up his sleeves. “Two and three, respectively,” he says, pointing out two more scars along his forearms. They were both from similar situations. Two times that you had disarmed him and made him bleed for it. You reach out and touch the silvery marks, feeling the smooth gap in his arm hair and the fully repaired muscle underneath the flawed skin. “You’re a better swordsman than I,” he says, reaching up to unlace the top of his tunic. “I might have had the edge of experience, at the beginning, but you quickly caught up to me, didn’t you? It was a good thing you were so scrupled about killing people other than me, or I’d have lost far too many good men to your blade.”

“You’re just trying to flatter me.”

“Is it working?” He pulls the tunic and shirt off in one go, baring his chest. There are a few scars there that you could not claim, and two that you can, although your eyes are drawn to one in particular. The ugly, uneven star right next to his heart, where you had run him through with the iron poker on the night of the wolf. “This one is my favourite,” he tells you, pressing one of your hands to the scar. “The first time you tried to kill me. Jon had to half-heal me himself, or I wouldn’t have made it to a proper healer in time. It’s partially why there’s such a scar. He’s always been terrible at the more subtle magics, but if you want something blown up, Jon’s your man.”

You laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Make sure you also note, in that treacherous little mind of yours, that he will not employ his considerable magical gift with the task of making me explode. He is still rather fond of me, even after all these years.”

“It is good, I think, to have a king that is so well-versed in the art of restraint,” you say mildly.

“Oh yes, I imagine it is.”

“So is it really just the five scars?” you ask. “That’s all?” Despite the truce the two of you had settled into, you felt strangely disappointed that your obsession with killing him over the last decade had resulted in only a handful of scars. It all felt like a waste. You try to console yourself with the knowledge that he heals more rapidly than most men. The scars you have left are despite that.

“There’s one more, on my thigh, but I imagine you probably don’t want me to take my pants off.”

You do want him to take his pants off. “Yes, that’s very thoughtful of you,” you say instead. “I suppose you’ve won, anyway. I have a lot more than six scars from you.” You had expected that his life as a warrior would have marked him more significantly. You’re covered in scars, faded and fresh alike, and there is no getting around the fact that you feel like you’ve stitched yourself up so often that you look as worn down as your oldest, ugliest shirt.

The disappointment in his eyes is gone so quickly that you aren’t entirely sure you hadn’t imagined it. “Well, I suppose I’ll have to take your word for it, won’t I?”

“You’re just trying to get me out of my dress,” you say hotly.

“Obviously. You look very lovely in it, of course, but I have been hoping for the chance to peel it off of you.”

You shake your head. “I think you’ll be a bit disappointed.”

“Never. What would possibly deter me at this point, darling? If stabbing me through the heart didn’t erode my affections, what could?”

“Oh I don’t know,” you say thoughtfully. “I could have scales, or a tail—”

“I have a tail,” he reminds you. “And I’m quite positive that you’re human, so I’m not worried about scales. Or strange birth-marks or stretch-marks or scars, either, by the way.”

You take a deep breath and stand up, turning your back to him. “It would help if you could undo all these buttons for me,” you say, sweeping your hair in front of your shoulder. “There are so many of them.”

He jumps to his feet and scrambles to help. A few buttons plink to the floor, torn free in his haste. “I’ll have it fixed,” he says hastily. “And I’ll buy you new gowns. As many as you can stand.”

You glance over your shoulder, nervous laughter stilling on your tongue when you see the look in his eyes. You turn forward again, sliding your arms through the sleeves and shimmying the gown to he floor. He gives you a hand to steady yourself as you step free. “I— I don’t want— I won’t stay.”

He hums in response, gathering up the gown and laying it over the back of a chair.

“I won’t,” you repeat yourself, as if the words will sound convincing the second time. They don’t.

“I already told you, darling, I won’t make you stay. It’s up to you.”

He draws you back to your seats in front of the fire, and you offer him your arms. You’re riddled with fine scars, most of them faint, little nicks from his blade. His hands slide up to your shoulder and gently tug the capped sleeve of your chemise to the side, baring the imprint of his jaws. His thumb runs across the marks, his other hand landing on your knee.

“I wondered if I’d bitten you that night.” He moves closer, his tongue moving over his sharp canines as he sighs. His fingers trail down your arm as his touch drops away. “You never turned, so I wasn’t sure.”

“It doesn’t always take,” you say, using his shoulder to help you back up to your feet. “I think it depends on the moon. New moon, that night. If you were any other wolf you never would have shifted.”

“I suppose that makes sense.” He settles back on his heels, looking up at you. “I can’t say I’ve thought about why some bites take and some don’t. I’m not as observant as you, my love.”

Laughable, when his senses are many times greater than your own. It’s not his observations that are the problem, it’s the connecting cause and effect, thinking about consequence for more than a moment. He’s faced so few consequences in his life that it doesn’t come naturally to him. You, on the other hand, are a mess of consequence, action and reaction measured and weighed, failures poured over until you can see every mistake you’ve made, follow the tracks to how things could have been, if you’d done it all just a little differently.

You pull your skirt up so you can untie the ribbon that holds up your stocking, and he slides it down to your ankle. “This one’s only indirectly your fault,” you say, angling your leg so he can see the trail of pocked scars that wrap around your knee and up your thigh. “When I jumped down that ravine. Scraped myself up on the rocks.”

He tuts, hands reaching for these scars too. It’s just an excuse to touch you, certainly, but you make no move to stop him. You just hold your skirt up, giving him unfettered access to your skin. His amber eyes flick up to your face, and he leans forward, pressing his lips to your knee.

There’s no halting the soft “Oh” that falls from your lips, but he would have heard even the softest catch of breath. There’s no hiding from him, and it terrifies you, leaves you so unsteady.

His eyes flutter shut for a moment, his exhale warm against your skin. “You shouldn’t show me any more,” he tells you. “I find myself wanting to kiss every inch of skin you show me, and I worry that you won’t stop me if I try.”

You sink back to his level and pull your stocking back up, tying the ribbon around your thigh again. “Would that be so bad?”

He groans and lays back on the furs, hands neatly folded on his stomach. “I am trying to be a good man for you, darling. You deserve more than I can give in one night. I need at least a few weeks to make you fall hopelessly in love with me before I can do anything that would tempt me to take you to bed.”

You run your palm over his stomach, feeling the soft pelt of hair over his warm skin, letting your curiosity guide your fingertips. You feel the expansion and contraction of muscle as he breathes in and out, tucking one hand under his head so he can watch you more easily, his eyes barely open.

You have to admit, he is handsome, especially relaxed like this. Only a few short hours ago you would have found the idea of him kissing any part of you abhorrent, but now you find yourself similarly compelled. You take his hand and kiss his knuckles, the tips of his fingers, the palm of his hand.

“Come here, you little minx,” he growls, trying to pull you down on top of him. You pull back, and he lets go, still worried about pushing you when you’ve made so many overtures in such a short time.

You had expected him to hold on tightly, however, and overbalance, tipping over the other way with an inelegant little squeak. He laughs as he sits up, and you do too as he helps you back upright. He lays back again, and there’s no resistance when he takes you with him this time. He tucks you into his side, and you look down at him, chin propped on your hand.

“I rescind my earlier statement,” he says.

“Which one?”

“You don’t have to ask nicely for a kiss, darling. I worry that you’re too prideful to admit that you might like one, but if you can steal one whenever the mood strikes you, I might be lucky enough to receive a few impulsive ones that your good sense isn’t fast enough to stop.”

You huff. “Is this your way of asking for another?”

“It’s my way of asking for as many as you might want to give me,” he says. “There is, of course, a standing offer of anything you might like that is within my power to supply. I think it prudent to remind you.”

He’s a ridiculous kind of man. You’d always thought his tendency toward verbosity was just him grandstanding, but now you see it for what it really is. He wants to be understood by you so desperately that each sentence becomes overwrought, less clear for his efforts to imbue each word with meaning. Your own tendency toward blunt, inelegant language is an almost laughable counter. You say little, and hide everything you can, and he reads you plainly. He speaks like a poet, puts everything out in the open, and you misunderstand him on purpose.

Perhaps that’s why you didn’t see this for what it is a long time ago. If you were not so determined to make an enemy of him, perhaps you would have noticed the softness in his eyes, the way he looks at you as though you’re the sunrise and set, like you’re the moon and all the stars in the sky.

You kiss him, before he can open his mouth to speak again. There’s nothing lacklustre about the way your lips slide over his, the way your breath mingles, the way he makes little noises of satisfaction, unable to be quiet even with his tongue flicking over your top lip, encouraging you to open up for him. Angling your head to keep your noses from smushing together, you oblige, letting him lick into your mouth, his arms circling you, holding you tight against his body.

You can't put a name to the feeling that sparks between you, but it's the thing that's been missing from every kiss you've had before.

The heat, the need of it all burns away all that remains of your carefully maintained resolve. He loves you, fool that he is, and you're not sure you could survive without him now. Is that what love is? To mourn even the thought of their absence from you, to cling tightly and never let go? To sink into each other until you're one, two halves of the same whole?

He kisses you until you're breathless, lips swollen from the tug of his sharp teeth, jaw curiously sore from moving in a new way. You pull back first, braced on one arm as you look down on him. He's beautiful, more than human, wild-eyed and fey, but solid and warm beneath you in a way only a man could be. His imperfections make him dearer to you, not just the marks you've drawn on his skin, but the gap between his two front teeth, the way one brow arches a little more than the other, giving him that permanently skeptical look that had always made you feel he was making fun of you. The crooked smile, the notch in one ear.

You know his face more intimately than your own, but you still want to look at him, especially through this new lens.

“I don’t think I want to wait,” you admit. You’ve waited long enough, haven’t you?

“Are you certain?” he asks.

“I don’t see what difference it makes, really.”

“It makes a great deal of difference. I’ve taken enough from you, I don’t want you to regret it.” He gazes up at you, tracing along your jaw with careful touch.

Your heart races rabbit-quick in your chest, and although you're the one looking down at him, you feel pinned in place by the wolf's eyes alone. "Then make sure I don't," you say softly. "I can even promise not to make another attempt on your life until the morning."

"Darling…"

"Please. I don't know how I'll feel tomorrow, but tonight I think I want your hands on me."

"You think?" His fingers catch around the back of your neck, as though he's waiting for some cue before he pulls you back into his arms.

“I know.”

He pulls you down for another kiss, rolling the two of you so his big body stretches over yours, your underskirts bunching up as he slots his thick thigh between yours, pressing against your core. He holds most of his weight off of you, but you’re still trapped beneath him. For the first time in a long while, there is no panic, no desire to fight furiously for freedom. You feel quite content where you are, especially when his thigh flexes, rubbing against you firmly, sending a shower of sparks through your belly. You gasp against his mouth, your hands skimming down his sides gingerly. When he does it again, you dig your fingers into the muscle of his back reflexively, murmuring apologies as his lips leave yours and slide down your bared throat.

“Don’t,” he growls against your pulse, dragging his tongue roughly over your skin. “Don’t apologize. You won’t hurt me.”

His teeth graze the slope of your shoulder, finding the older scar from his lupine jaws. You let out a shuddering gasp when he bites down lightly, not even hard enough to leave a mark. There’s a part of you that wants him to leave a mark, a bruise if not something more permanent, but you’re not sure you’ll be able to convince him out of gentleness tonight.

He kisses down your chest, grinning up at you when he reaches the top edge of your corset. “You are still wearing far too much clothing, my love. Come here.” He stands in a smooth movement, and you’re untethered without the weight of his body against yours, but only for a moment. He helps you to your feet and leads you to the bed, taking a seat on the edge and pulling you between his knees, turning you so he can loosen the laces of your corset.

You shed the garment as soon as you’re able, as well as the extra petticoats. Your chemise is thin, loose material, obscuring little, but you leave it on while you sit beside the wolf, toeing your heeled slippers off and nudging them under the bed and out of the way. Hands folded, you wait, heart beating like a drum. You feel so strange, almost outside your own body, watching him unlace his boots and tug them off impatiently.

He stands to strip off his trousers, and you quickly avert your gaze, looking down at your hands rather than see him in his fully undressed state. You have a rough idea of what you’d find, you’ve been in the public baths more than a few times, and even doing your best to be respectful, it’s hard not to see something. But seeing something in a setting where everyone is minding their own business is a lot different than seeing something up close, especially when you might be expected to do more than just look.

“We don’t have to do this, love,” he says, kneeling in front of you, clasping his hands around yours. Your eyes fly back up, landing on his face. His chuckle makes your cheeks burn. “If you’re nervous—”

“No,” you say quickly. “I want to. I’m just— I hate not knowing what I’m supposed to do.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that darling. It’s your first time, I should think the responsibility rests on my shoulders. All you have to do is tell me when you like something and when you don’t.” He leans forward, forcing your thighs apart to accommodate the bulk of him, and kisses you, all sweetness. “And if you want to stop, we stop. Anything more than that can wait at least until the second or third time.”

It sounds so simple, put like that.

“Besides,” he adds, giving you a wicked grin as his hands move to your hips, the movement rucking your chemise up further on your thighs. “You’ve always been a quick study.”

Well, he’s right about that. His lips find your throat again, pressing languid kisses down your chest until he reaches the edge of your chemise. His eyes flick upwards, seeking permission before he goes further. You untie the simple knot with one hand, the other petting through his soft curls.

He noses aside the thin fabric to find your nipple, latching on with a contented hum. The act sends tremors down into your core, intensifying as his tongue flicks across. You pull in a shuddering breath, and your exhale becomes a whimper when his teeth nip at you, his other hand coming up to grope at your other breast, his touch warm and appreciative before his grip slides down to your hips and he tugs you to the edge of the mattress.

He pulls away from your breast and kisses you properly again. “Do you want more?” he asks. “Can I taste your pretty cunt, darling?”

The desire in his words sends a shiver down your spine. You nod, and he sits back on his heels and kisses all the way up your thigh, although he pauses and pulls back to your other knee, kissing his way up again, this time sinking his teeth into your inner thigh, not hard enough to really hurt, just enough to make you jolt, your pearl begging for any kind of friction. When he passes over your cunt to mouth at your other thigh, you whine, shifting even closer to the edge of the bed. You can feel your cunt dripping, the air strangely cool on your wet skin.

A pair of mischievous eyes glance up at you. He’s doing this on purpose. He started all of this, and now he has the gall to tease you. Glaring in response, you grip him by the hair and pull him in, determined to put his clever mouth to better use than smirking and biting you when you need him elsewhere.

To his credit, he makes no complaint and does what he’s directed, slipping his tongue between your folds, lapping up the slick arousal. His big hands push your thighs up so he can get a better angle, and he kisses your cunt with as much passion as he did your lips, if not more.

The feeling is electric. His mouth scorches, sets you alight in ways you’d never imagined, the occasional scrape of his too sharp teeth against you thrilling. It’s too good, has you fighting his grip even as your fingers are still tightly wound into his hair, holding him close. It’s too much, but if he stopped it would be so much worse.

If he minds your writhing, he doesn’t show it. You can’t help the sounds he pulls from you, but he’s louder, as though this is more for himself than for you. He groans when your hips buck against his mouth, pants when he lifts himself away enough to breathe, his amber eyes gleaming, fixed on your face, except the few times they flutter closed, just for a moment, savouring your taste.

His nose nudges your pearl as his tongue presses inside you. You grip him so tightly to your core, your hips shaking so hard that you’re surprised you don’t break his nose. The hot, molten cataclysm that’s been pooling somewhere behind your belly button overtakes you, sweeping you away, limbs seized, unable to out-swim the current. You can’t see past the stars in your eyes even after your legs relax and you force your hand to unclasp his hair, finger by finger, so you can lay back on the mattress, breathing hard.

He crawls up onto the bed and pulls you toward the centre, a self-satisfied grin on his face. His cock presses into your thigh, insistent for attention, the tip peeking out and leaking against your thigh. He ruts against you when he kisses you again, his close-cropped beard soaked with your arousal. You can taste yourself on his tongue, tangy and bitter-sweet.

You lay twined together, forehead pressed against his as you both catch your breath. One hand gently brushes up and down your spine, the other pulling your leg up over his hip. “How was that?” he asked.

There may not be words for what you feel. Maybe there are, but they’re beyond you right now, washed away with all the resistance in your body. You settle on nice, which makes him laugh.

“Only nice, hm? I suppose I’ll have to work harder.”

“Better than nice,” you assure him. “I— I liked it a lot.” It’s still insufficient, so you kiss him again, hoping he won’t ask any more questions.

He does, after a long moment. “Are you ready for more?”

“There’s more?” you ask. “Or— for you? Do you want me to—”

“No, there’s no need for you to do a thing, love. The next part is for both of us.” He rolls onto his back, taking you with him effortlessly. He reaches past you with one hand while he kisses you sweetly, tongue pushing into your mouth at the same moment you feel his cock slot against your entrance. He pushes in gently, halting when he meets resistance, fucking shallowly into you until you relax enough to let him bury himself deeper into your body.

You tuck your face down against his chest, focusing on the feeling of his cock stretching your cunt, so deep inside you that his presses against your womb. He tries to keep himself still, but his hips buck slightly, tearing a groan from your chest. There’s no stopping the way your cunt squeezes down on him in response, nor the way your hips grind against him. He makes a choked sound, breathing out shakily when you push yourself up to look at him.

The angle change nearly has you collapsing back down, but he takes pity on you and flips you both so he can take the lead. “Hello, pretty thing,” he says, giving you another kiss and a firm grind into you before he starts moving his hips, slowly working himself in and out of your cunt, lips settling against your ear so he could tell you how well you’re taking him, how good you feel around his cock.

Any ability to respond is quickly fucked out of you, your breath punched out with every deep thrust, your world shrinking down to a handful of sensations: his lips on your ear, the weight of his body and the delicious drag of his cock against your inner walls.

He works his hand between you to rub at your pearl, the heel of his hand pressing down on your lower belly. The thought that he can feel himself inside you with your hand is one of the last fully formed ones that cross your mind, because he growls and picks up the pace, unrelenting until you’re shaking and babbling and clinging so tightly to him that you’re certain you’ll leave permanent marks.

He drags you up another precipice and throws you over, his forehead pressed to yours, watching your face as you shake and cry out. He ruts into you, and you can feel him fill your cunt, his cock twitching, rooted firmly inside you. He doesn’t pull away, just throws himself onto his back, holding you tight to his chest.

His heart beats like a drum under your ear, slowing gradually as he catches his breath. His cock slips free, and you stiffen slightly as his spend leaks from your swollen cunt, spilling onto his belly. He pops his head up as soon as you tense, and huffs out a laugh, kissing the tip of your nose.

“Sex can be a bit messy. Come on, love. Let’s get cleaned up.”

Your legs wobble when you try to stand, but he happily slides a supportive arm around your waist, leading you into the adjoining tap room. Once you’re both cleaned up, he coaxes you out of your sweat-soaked chemise and wraps you in one of his shirts and you both sit back down in front of the fire.

You pick up your abandoned wine glass, holding it with both hands as you eye the wolf. He looks content, satiated, like he’s had his fill of you. There’s a little tremor of unease that settles in your belly. Now that the chase is over, will he still want you? Do you still want him to want you? At the beginning of the evening you had been determined to kill him, and now…

He looks back at you through half-closed eyes, and unfurls his arm. “You’re too far away,” he tells you, voice a warm purr. “And you’re thinking too much.”

It’s still unfair, how easily he reads you. An open book, pages left open for him to flip through at his leisure. Despite your trepidation, you walk forward on your knees and sit against him, knees tucked under his arm. His fingertips trail up your thigh, over your knee, down your calf, and back, over and over, as he waits for you to speak.

“What happens now?” you ask at last. “Do we go our separate ways?”

Hurt flashes across his face before he can hide it behind a neutral mask. “If that’s what you want.” His fingers continue retreading their path while silence builds between the two of you. At last, he pulls in a fortifying breath. “Is that what you want?”

There’s raw desire in his eyes, not tempered in the least by your coupling. He offers you everything so easily that it feels like it must be a trick, but he wouldn’t work so hard to hide his feelings if he didn’t care for you, if this were a trap. If you stay, it has to be your choice, not made because of his own want for you to remain by his side.

The anger that kept you warm in all your years out in the cold is gone. Killing him won’t bring your family back from the grave, it would just place another soul in one. The desire for revenge truly burned out a long while ago, and you couldn’t admit that only embers remained. It was why you were so desperate to end it tonight, to close the chapter and look forward to something new.

It’s so like your wolf to ruin your plans. This time, you’re not sure you mind.

“I’d like to stay,” you say at last.

He’s on you so fast that you drop your wine glass, spilling red over the furs. It’s hard to stop laughing enough to kiss him back, trying to point out the mess to him. He growls something about not giving a damn as he gives up trying to kiss you through your smile, and presses his lips to your pulse instead.

In the end, with all the history between the two of you, what’s one more mess?

It's been almost five years since I started writing this short story, and I had fully expected not to finish it. I was caught up in the story in the peripherals, the potential history between Cat and Valter. This scene no longer fits in the overall narrative, even if there are still threads of it that remain unchanged, so I feel like it's safe to share. I'm working on the third draft of The Night of the Wolf, sorting out the mess of my second draft (so many changes it might as well be a second first draft) and I think there's a very real possibility that I can actually finish it, and that's in no small way thanks to all of you. I have been writing for a long time, but it's only been in the past year that I've shared my work with anyone, and it's been a really lovely experience. Thank you for reading my silly fanfictions, thank you for reading this, and I hope to share more bits of original work going forward, if there's any interest. (But don't worry, I'm still gonna finish the fanfictions. I show no signs of stopping yet)

C. T. Cutter

(Also, special thanks to my best human person @dragonnarrative-writes for making me finish this and being so so kind to me about my work and encouraging me always. I am bad at accepting compliments but I appreciate them all the same)

Image Credits: 1 - 2 ~ Dividers by @/cafekitsune

#Cave Writing #original works #enemies to lovers but in a you can't hate someone without also loving them way #in a “I keep my nemesis' picture in a locket around my neck” way #Night of the Wolf #OC: Cat #OC: Valter #This is the sort of work that can happen when you dare to ask the question “What if Rahul Kohli was a hot werewolf?”#This is pretty much my one year writing and posting fanfiction-aversary! How time flies #I've written more this year than the previous 4 combined and it's been so much fun #And I've learned a lot #especially about putting myself out there #Writing other works definitely stretches a different muscle but fanfiction helps with dialogue and characters and writing sex lmao #I have sooooo many stories that stop right before a sex scene because I used to be so bad at writing it #But now? I'm all over it #Anyway these tags are not helpful to anyone I am just dithering to delay posting at this point #It's written in second POV because I was in the monster romance circles before the COD circles and it's popular there too #but I was never brave enough to post anything anyway lmao #Thanks for helping me be brave!#monster romance #but only kind of because when werewolves aren't actively shifted they're just some guy #He spends a lot more time being wolfy in the actual novel

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animalistic00 · 2 days ago

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Hey!!! Here’s another breakdown of my thoughts I told you it was coming!!!! I just needed time to process because OMG🤯

Cleo’s post of SpongeBobs brain on fire and the mini hims panicking is a MOOD. She didn’t have to call out reader like that though, lmao even though it’s true and definitely how everyone reading it myself included was feeling. The reader then commenting; “help me” only for Cleo to post a SpongeBob and Patrick reaction pic IS EVERYTHING. Pope’s comment makes it even ten times better and more hilarious. AND THE AUDACITY OF JJ TO COMMENT 😂 like you did this brother.

NOW THE TEXTS🤯😭 I needed a whole ass warning for these. Died and came back to life, like you were so wrong (BUT SO RIGHT) for this. I had to take another pause while writing this because BABES this is so phenomenally OUTSTANDING words can’t describe it but I’m going to try my absolute best.

JJ immediately coming to reader and being like “we should wait.” STAWP 😭✋I can’t that’s so unbelievably sweet and thoughtful. Like you can tell, YOU WRITE/SHOW him caring for the reader so freaking well. Him also being like, “this isn’t the best time” you can tell he’s not only so deeply in love with her, but he cares about her so much. Like don’t get me wrong; I definitely get the vibe he absolutely loves her and has loved her romantically for ages; but I also get and feel that he loves and cares for her platonically so hard too. Like yes he wants to date reader, but that’s his best friend first and foremost and it just shows; YOU SHOW IT SO AMAZINGLY.

Him reassuring her😭 he’s so perfect STOP I want him. I want them to end up together. (BUT THEN YOU COME OUT SWINGING WITH RAFE AND IT AINT FAIR)

Okay; this is also another thing and I know I’m gonna repeat myself (I do that a lot) but you actually write him so well. Him being like ; “good or bad; wait no don’t answer that.” Is SOOOOOO- I have so many thoughts. JJ is such a reckless individual but he’s also extremely selfless and loyal to those he cares for and you portray that perfectly. Like poor baby definitely wants to know what reader is thinking and feeling, but he understands that this isn’t a good time and she needs time. SO being the selfless individual he is he’s like we’ll wait until YOUR ready. LIKE PLEASE; this is amazing and perfect. Indescribable. Him being like; “you need to think and I need to prepare myself.” Is so sweet and sad; like I know poor baby is preparing himself for the worst and rejection and how he’ll be able to keep reader in his life. Because let’s be honest he won’t want to lose her😭

THE PLANS BE HAD TO ASK HER OUT 😭☠️ four years ago, then the summer, and then after the season. Mans was trying and that’s actually really cute too and it’s totally in character for him to have plans but then BE IMPULSIVE AND IGNORE THEM

The line; “I always have plans when it comes to you.” I NEED TO SAY NOTHING ELSE.

Him still offering to have the conversation after everything has calmed down and the reader is ready is just MWAH. No words needed, it explains itself. Before he tells her that until then, they’re best friends and he cares about her being happy. That, that’s all he cares about. He’s so perfect LIKE I CANT. CAN I HAVE HIM? PLEASE??!?

Also the ma’am✋😍

Then them immediately talking about pranking Pope is HILARIOUS and actually such a great detail and addition. It shows how close they are as best friends and even though with all the drama and feelings in the mix they will be BEST FRIENDS first.

P4L

The instagram POST🥰 Besties fr. Sarah calling them trouble makers or finders is so real; CUZ THEY BOTH. Also I love Cleo so much. Her comment is nothing short of amazing, and I stand our wife. AND THEN POOR POPE😭😂 I love and LIVE for their and this dynamic.

The gingerbread houses post from Cleo, are amazing and I can’t. Her house, as it should be💅, WAS STUNNING!!! I have no idea what JJ was doing but GOOD LORD, he um…tried? Bless his heart, let’s keep him out on the football field. NOW CLEO COMPLIMENTING RAFE?!? 👀 his house does look good, but I know wifey still mad on readers behalf so I was SURPRISED when I saw that. Not only that, Rafe hanging out with everyone. Like reader is one powerful woman 🗣️💅 she’s keeping EVERYONE in line. (Rafe’s house was good fr though) I don’t even have words for John B’s house. LIKE HOW DID JJ DO BETTER?!? Also Rafe legit admitting that he tried so hard so he’d be invited back is so cute and sad.

Readers Christmas post is adorable. AND POOR TOPPER, like please this man is struggling for his life. Someone please update this mans, he’s so lost and I love it. Rafe needs to talk to him for real. Like please. (At the same time I love him being so lost and it should definitely continue on for a bit hehe 😈) Cleo was definitely right about crazy crowd choice because whew, again talk about readers power.

Now I’m not gonna lie, I’m a bit confused on the letter one. Is Rafe posting a picture of a letter the reader wrote (that was my first guess) or is he posting a pic of one he wrote to her? AGAIN TOPPER in the comments confused😂 Rafe telling him to “shut up,” was wrong of him.

THE PIC OF RAFE AND JJ. The POWER reader holds should be feared by all. Also the photo is actually so funny, (and I wanna know the story in real life) but even better I wanna know the story behind the picture in this AU. Like what was JJ doing with all those glasses MUCH LESS ON HIS FACE? How did reader get these two to agree to go out to dinner with her, and much less them staying civil for HER 🥰🤭😩 and this time Pope in the comments being confused is hilarious.

Now the texts between reader and Rafe…I can’t 😭 gonna have to break it down just like the JJ ones.

Rafe starting off the text with thanking reader and saying how he’s missed her is so sad. Like he obviously is still head over heels for her and is so glad for ANY crumb he gets.

POLYAMOROUS?!?? Please. Please. I beg because I cannot choose for the life of me and I don’t want there to be a choice. But her being like; “JJ had fun.” Is such a big deal even if it was her, it’s the fact that it was also her and them. Like you know they secretly enjoyed each others company. That or I’d like to at least see reader remain close friends with whoever doesn’t “win” and actually for Rafe and JJ to become close. Just for everyone to eventually become close and besties 😭 (FEED MY DELULU PLEASE?🙏)

Rafe saying we should give JJ a chance FLABBERGASTED ME. Still leaves me flabbergasted when I read it. Was not expecting that from him, but it honestly shows how much he’s grown and matured from before. And how serious he is about being our friend first and foremost. As he says. Which leads me to the; “because I’m your friend. I told you I would be the best friend you've ever had. Your friend would want you to be happy. And I think you need to give him a chance.” Like I can’t with him. That’s- it’s indescribable. That’s so selfless and truly shows how much he cares for the reader. I’d honestly immediately fold if someone told me this 😂☠️ poor reader cuz I could never. Why do they both have to be so sickly sweet and selfless?

I canttttttttttt; YOUR PAYING FOR MY THERAPY. Rafe being like as your ex, I know what I want, what you mean to mean, who my true love is, and what not. Is UGHHHHH and then him being like you deserve to figure out what you want and who you love and I’m here for whatever you choose. ☠️ I both love and hate that. I hate making choices so I’m like “NOOO, AHHHHH” but it is so sweet.

I apologize (LIES) I actually don’t; no but this is so long. I just had so many thoughts and feelings that I wanted to get out and share with you especially since you seemed to enjoy my last post. In case you’re confused I’m posting/rebloging this on my reblog account. I’m animalistic0, anywho I love your work so much this story is the best. Absolutely OBSESSED. Thank you for sharing, and creating this artwork.

Kildare University- Sophomore Year: 9

Synopsis: A Social Media AU in which you find yourself at Kildare University along with your friends. Starting over at a new school shouldn't be difficult. Well, except for the fact that your ex-boyfriend is the quarterback, and you are the drum major. Add in a little bit of drama, a lot of friendship, an ex who can't seem to let you go, and a best friend who has been in love with you since you were kids and well? Welcome to KU!

Pairings: Past!Rafe x Reader, JJ x Reader, Rafe x Reader

Masterlist

Taglist:

@akobx @onelonelybitch @the-universe-and-karma @beeskisses @frankoceanluvr11 @ivy-34 @rafecameronsloverrrrr @k-k0129 @asyouwish-fromcabin3 @xoxo-ada @aariahnaa @strawberryforks @urbrunettebombshell @whatisoutside @spenceatiny18 @animalistic0

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shaiprsly · 1 day ago

Text

𝐂𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐁𝐲 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : Elvis Presley x Fem!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : 1972. Fame, wealth, and the haunting allure of Elvis Presley—everything Y/N could ever want, except the one thing that really matters: a simple, normal life. Hired as the nanny for Lisa Marie Presley, Y/N is thrown into the heart of the Presley world, where she quickly becomes more than just a caretaker for Elvis's daughter. As Priscilla remains distant, Y/N steps in, offering Lisa Marie the affection and attention she craves. But it’s Elvis, cold and aloof at first, who soon becomes captivated by her. With 15 years between them, Elvis begins to blur the lines between professional and personal, showering Y/N with gifts and flirting dangerously. He may be married, but that doesn't stop him from wanting Y/N. Torn between duty and desire, Y/N must face the growing tension, knowing that giving in could shatter everything she’s worked for. Will she resist the King of Rock and Roll, or will his love prove impossible to escape?

𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬/𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : Cussing, cheating, age gap (Elvis is 37, reader is 22), virgin reader, emotional manipulation. I guess that all !!

𝐀/𝐍 : Hi so this is my first time writing and actually posting (and it's literally a whole fic), but I wanted to give it a try!! Let me know what you think and if I should keep writing, because I'm not sure lmao, I might change little thing in the story !! ALSO MY FIRST LANGUAGE ISN'T ENGLISH!! I'M FRENCH LOLLZ

February 15th, 1972

You stand at the base of the grand staircase, your heart pounding in your chest. The door in front of you looms like a barrier between the life you’ve always known and the unknown world that lies just beyond it. The house, a sprawling mansion with gleaming white columns and intricate ironwork, feels both overwhelming and intimidating. It’s everything you’ve read about in magazines and seen on TV—the kind of place people dream of living in but never actually do. But today, it’s not a dream. Today, it’s your reality.

You’ve always been practical, grounded by the simplicity of life. Growing up in the countryside, you never imagined you’d end up here, working for one of the most famous families in the world. But here you are, standing in front of the Presley estate, about to walk into a life so far removed from your own that it almost feels surreal.

Priscilla Presley had called you last Tuesday, saying she’d come across your nanny advertisement in a mall, and that she needed help with Lisa Marie since Elvis would be away for a month. You had never worked for anyone like them, and the idea of leaving your quiet, small-town life was intimidating. But when Priscilla’s calm, urgent voice came over the phone, you couldn’t refuse. After asking you a series of questions, she offered you the job, promising a paycheck at the end of the month of $3,700. It seemed too good to be true, but you couldn't turn it down. This was Elvis Presley’s daughter—how could you?

Still, that knot of nervousness twisted in your stomach. You'd been a nanny before, in your small town, but this was a whole different level.

You shift your weight, feeling the weight of the mansion’s presence. The world you’re about to step into feels much larger than you, and you’re unsure if you’ll ever truly fit in. But there’s no turning back now. You’ve been hired, and now you have to prove you can do the job. As you lift your hand to knock on the door, it opens slowly, and there he is.

Elvis Presley.

In person.

Standing before you.

You’ve seen him on TV, in movies, and on the covers of countless magazines, but nothing prepared you for the way he commands a room the moment he steps into it. His presence is magnetic—powerful, undeniable. He’s taller than you imagined, his broad shoulders filling the doorframe, his gaze steady and intense. There’s something about the way he looks at you—cold, assessing, as if he’s evaluating you in the span of a single heartbeat.

“Must be Y/N,” he says, his voice low, rough, and heavy with that familiar drawl. “Priscilla told me you’d be here, she's out for the day.”

You nod, throat tight. You’re not sure what to say. Elvis Presley doesn’t feel like a real person. He feels like an idea, a legend. And yet, here he is, standing right in front of you. “Yes, that’s me,” you manage, trying to sound confident, though your heart is racing. “I’m here to look after Lisa Marie.”

His eyes flicker for just a moment, a hint of something you can’t place passing through them, but then it’s gone, replaced by the same indifferent expression. “Come in,” he grunts, stepping aside to let you enter. His voice is dismissive, as if he’s done this countless times before.

You step inside, the cool air of the mansion washing over you. The grand foyer is decorated with dark wood furniture, vintage paintings on the walls, and thick, plush rugs that muffle your footsteps. The space feels like it’s frozen in time, a snapshot of another era. You feel like you’ve stepped into a different world, one where wealth and fame are the rules, not the exceptions.

“Hey, squirt,” Elvis calls out, his voice surprisingly soft for a moment. You turn, and Lisa Marie is standing there, staring up at you with big, innocent eyes.

“Are you the new lady?” Lisa Marie asks, her voice soft but clearly curious. She can barely form full sentences at her age, but you catch the excitement in her tone. She’s only four, after all.

You smile, kneeling to meet her at eye level. “Yes, I’m Y/N,” you reply gently. “I’m here to look after you.”

Lisa Marie grins widely and grabs your hand. “Yay! I like you,” she says, pulling you toward the living room. You can’t help but laugh, her enthusiasm melting some of your nerves.

As you follow her, Elvis lingers in the background, crossing his arms and watching you both with a detached interest. His gaze, however, is still sharp, as if he’s measuring you up, trying to figure you out.

“Don’t make a mess, kid,” Elvis mutters under his breath, not even glancing at Lisa Marie. It’s clear he’s trying to maintain some semblance of authority, but he doesn’t seem particularly engaged with his daughter. He’s just there, overseeing it all.

Lisa Marie pulls you down to the carpet, surrounded by her scattered toys. She starts showing you some of her favorites, her speech still childlike and a little jumbled. “This is my bear. He talks,” she says, holding up a stuffed animal that looks like it’s seen better days.

“Really?” you ask, playing along. “What does he say?”

“He says ‘I love you,’” she replies matter-of-factly, “but only when no one’s looking.” She giggles softly and looks over at her father.

You glance over, and Elvis is still watching, but now his gaze is a little different—colder, perhaps, but you can’t be sure. He’s standing against the doorframe, arms crossed, his jaw tight as he observes you.

“Do what you gotta do, but keep it quiet,” he grumbles. “Lisa’s gotta learn some focus.”

You try not to let his words bother you. It’s clear he’s not the warmest man, and his attitude toward you seems colder with every passing moment. But you’re not here to be distracted by him. You’re here for Lisa Marie, and that’s all that matters.

____

The afternoon sun hangs lazily in the sky, casting long shadows across Lisa's room. Lisa had finally fallen asleep around 3 PM, her small body curled into a peaceful ball on her hamburger bed, the gentle rise and fall of her chest the only sound in the otherwise still room. You smile at her for a moment, the warm feeling of accomplishment filling your chest. You had managed to calm her down after a long afternoon of playing, and now, for the first time in what felt like hours, you have a moment to yourself.

With soft steps, you turn and leave the bedroom, your fingers brushing against the cool walls of the hallway as you make your way toward the living room. You need a break, just a few minutes away from the constant responsibility of being Lisa Marie’s caretaker. But as you step into the living room, you freeze in place.

There, on the couch, is Elvis.

He’s sitting back with his legs spread out, a glass of whiskey in his hand. It’s barely 3:15 PM, and yet, there he is, drinking. You blink, confused by the sight. You glance at him, and his eyes flicker up from his glass, catching yours. But he doesn’t say anything, his gaze simply lingering over you, as if expecting you to say something.

You don’t. You don’t have the courage to. After all, you’re not here to challenge him or question his choices. You’re here to take care of Lisa. That's it.

As you take a hesitant step forward, your eyes can’t help but notice something strange. Elvis is taking more than just a drink. With the glass still in his hand, he reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a small bottle of pills. Your heart skips a beat as he pops a few into his mouth, tossing the bottle back into his pocket without a second thought.

Your mind races. You’re not sure what those pills are, but the way he’s handling them, so casually, it feels like something you shouldn’t be witnessing. You stand there, paralyzed by the scene in front of you, unsure of what to do. You don’t want to intrude, but the anxiety building in your chest makes it hard to ignore the obvious signs of something troubling happening.

You stand frozen, unsure if you should say something, or if you should just leave and pretend like you didn’t see anything. But before you can make up your mind, Elvis's voice cuts through the thick air.

“What the hell do you want?” he growls, his tone sharp, and full of irritation. His eyes narrow at you, anger flickering behind them.

You jump back in surprise. “I— I didn’t mean to interrupt,” you stammer, your hands instinctively clasping together. “I just thought I should check on you, maybe—”

“Check on me?” Elvis interrupts, his voice rising. He slams his glass down on the table with a loud thud, causing you to flinch. “You’ve got no damn business checking on me! You’re here for one thing, and one thing only— to take care of Lisa. And that’s it, understand?”

His words hit you like a slap. The sharpness in his voice cuts through you, and for a moment, you can’t breathe. Your mouth opens to respond, but nothing comes out. Your heart is pounding in your chest, your body trembling under the weight of his words.

“I— I just thought I could help, but I didn't mean to see you like—” you whisper, trying to make sense of the situation.

“Help?” he spits, his words venomous. “You think I need help from you? You’re not here to ‘help’ me, darlin'. You’re here to watch my kid, to make sure she’s taken care of. You’re nothing more than a stupid nanny. Nothing more!”

The insult stings like a slap in the face. You want to argue back, to stand your ground, but it’s hard when you’re this shaken. Your breath hitches in your throat as his words cut through you, each one sinking deeper and deeper. You had hoped, naively, that you could have a more personal connection with him, but now it feels like that’s never going to happen.

Elvis stands up, towering over you, his expression twisted in anger. He steps forward, closing the distance between you. The air around you feels thick and suffocating as he grabs your arm, pulling you harshly toward the door.

“You’re not welcome here, d'ya hear me? Get the hell out of my house!” he shouts, his grip tightening around your arm as he shoves you toward the door.

The force of his push sends a shock of fear through you. You stumble back, your eyes wide with shock. “Mr.Presley, please—” you begin, but he cuts you off.

“I don’t want t'hear it! I’ve got no goddamn time for your pity, or your whining! You’re just here to look after Lisa—nothin' else! Now get out, before I make you leave!” He’s shouting now, his voice seething with fury.

Tears sting at the corners of your eyes as you struggle to regain your balance, the sting of his words cutting deep. You can’t believe this is happening. The man you’d been trying so hard to please all day, is now throwing you out of his house like you’re nothing. His hands are still gripping your arm, pushing you toward the door with alarming force.

“Please, Mr.Presley…” you beg, your voice shaky, so afraid of loosing your job the first day you got it, but he’s having none of it.

“Didn’t y'hear me?” he snarls, his face twisted in disgust. “You’re just a damn servant to me! That’s all you are. So get out of my damn house before I call security to throw you out!”

Your chest is tight with emotion as he shoves you toward the front door. You don’t have the strength to fight him. The tears you’ve been holding back fall freely now, but there’s no use. He doesn’t care.

With one last, hard push, he opens the door and practically forces you outside, slamming it shut behind you with a finality that echoes through the empty hallway.

You stand there on the doorstep, your body trembling. Your hands are shaking as you wipe your tears away, but it does nothing to stop the flood of emotions pouring out of you. How did things get so bad? Why did Elvis, the person you tried so hard to help, turn on you so cruelly?

Your mind is a mess of confusion and hurt. You had only wanted to be kind, to make things easier for Lisa, but instead, you’re treated like garbage. You had hoped that maybe, just maybe, Elvis would see the real you, see that you were trying to help him, too. But now, all you are is a nuisance in his eyes.

Hesitating for a moment, you turn and walk down the front steps. Every part of you is screaming to go back inside, to make things right, but deep down, you know it’s not going to happen. Not today. Not after the way he treated you.

You have no idea what tomorrow will bring, but as you walk away from the house, you wonder if it’s worth coming back at all.

to be continued...

#elvisaaronpresley #elvis the pelvis #elvis presley #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #elvis photos #elvis the king #elvis fans #elvis presley x y/n #elvis presley x you #fanfic

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tevantarlos · 1 day ago

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Feel free to ignore but I just have to get this out. I know this sounds mean but I´m happy that

a) Tim and Oliver lurk in fandom like no other and are seeing what people say about them and

b) Oliver had months of reprieve from the deranged people that make his following because they were turning all their guns on Lou. In fact he gained popularity because they convinced themselves (with his help, I add) that he is their champion and actually wants Buddie to happen. What does he think will happen now, when in a couple of weeks Buddie still has not happend? There is no Tommy standing in the way anymore and we will go right back to accusations of baiting and of people calling him fat and bald and almost too ugly for Eddie (yes, that happend). And when this happens and he has another whiny outburst on SM I will laugh until I fall over.

They droped the ball with every other LI before because they were to chicken shit to even try putting a stop to the endless harrassment. I think Megan West was the most egregious example of just leaving someone hanging and even encouraging the shit that went on online. They had a chance here, for the first time, to try to get out of this toxic Buddie brew they are in. If nothing else the way the relationship with Tommy was received, the way it garnered press by outlets other than glorified fan blogs like "Fangirlish" and gained them a new audience and the move to ABC all presented an opportunity to combat the toxicity by simply taking the fandom monopoly away from the crazies. But they just did not have the balls and now look at their pathetic attempts to make Brad happen on their IG. Engagement is low and what it there is the usual idiots screaming for Buddie and nothing else.

I hope it was worth it. I don´t see the show getting a 10th season, maybe not even a 9th. The spin off will be cheaper to produce, Peter talked about quitting before and the ratings trend downwards since S6. Not to mention the writing is absolute shit since Tim is back.

Maybe Oliver hopes that Callum Blue is the kind of guy that can get him a job after 911 gets canceled and is worth sucking up to. Last time I checked he couldn´t even get cast on a Hallmark movie so why not try, right? Buddie fans will not follow him either way, I hope he knows that.

Hey, hon. Thanks for the ask. Sorry I haven't posted this or replied before now. I haven't logged into my computer in a few days, have just been doing everything on my phone, and I didn't want to try to reply to this on my phone, that would takes ages.

I've been in the 911 fandom since two months after the last episode of season 1 aired. Oliver and 911 shot themselves in the foot by not shooting this Bvddie bullshit down from the very beginning. They've spent years leading Bvddie fans on, purposely having scenes with Buck and Eddie that cause the lunatics to see things that aren't there, because it gives the show more engagement.

Oliver and 911 know that Bvddie fans will never stop watching the show because they're so sure that at some point, 911 and Oliver will give in and make Bvddie canon because 'it's what they deserve'. At least, that's the bullshit I've read a lot of on Twitter and other places. What Bvddie fans don't understand, is they aren't owed shit.

I learned this the hard way when I was in the 100 fandom. I, and many other Bellarke fans thought that since we were loyal fans of the show, we'd be rewarded by getting Bellarke eventually. But just like Bvddie is never going to happen, Bellarke never happened. The writers and show runners had no interest in going there. They just liked to bait fans. Just like 911 does, with Buck and Eddie.

I personally feel like Oliver was relieved that all the hate was getting thrown at Lou and not himself, and he got a break from those assholes for a few months. But now that Lou and Tommy are gone, they're just going to go back to harassing him because Bvddie isn't canon and never will be, and those dumbasses can't cope.

Oliver knows that if he ever truly tells the Bvddie fans that it's never going to happen, he'll lose a large majority of his fan base. So, he just doesn't say anything. He encourages their twisted thinking and doesn't put them in their place when they're being assholes. Neither does Tim, so it's a monster of their own making. (The Bvddie fandom)

I can't speak on anything to do with the actresses of the other LI's. For many years since I started watching the show, I didn't interact with other fans much. The only time I did, was when I wrote fanfiction when I was a Bvddie shipper for 2 years, but after I found out what a bunch of toxic assholes they were, I ditched that fandom and am so glad I did.

Yeah, I check out the 911 IG page every few days because that's all I can stand. I can't look at it daily. All the Bvddie bullshit on every post claiming 'Bvddie canon, season 8!' It makes me roll my eyes so hard it hurts. Also, the way those idiots talk, like Buck and Tommy weren't in a relationship, like Buck is Eddie's one true love, and the other father of Chris.. God, I can't help but tell them how stupid they are for believing that. Especially since Ryan said in an interview that Chis has only one dad, and Buck sure as fuck ain't it.

The show will be lucky if it gets a season 9. This season is just not good, and I mean that honestly. Putting aside the BuckTommy of it all, it's crap. They focused too much on that Brad character which was a fucking waste of screen time. They traumatized Henren and their kids, had a plot that ended like within 5 minutes with Ortiz, had a decent start for Gerrard being a bad guy and dropped him for BRAD! Who the fuck cares about fucking Brad? No one.

When it comes to the IG posts, the first few days and maybe weeks after the BT breakup, both fans and GA made their feelings about the out of the blue breakup known, but after fighting the stupid Bvddie fans in the comments for a few days, most people backed off. I've gotten messages from people on IG who are BT and GA fans, who said that just like a lot of my comments on the IG page, their comments were removed for supporting BT, and for dishing out some of the bs that the Bvddie's have been doing for years.

Which once again shows that the people who man the 911 IG page, are catering to the most toxic assholes in the fandom. Every fucking post on the 911 IG has bullshit about Bvddie going canon, but people who talk about BT, or who even dare to criticize, in a nice way even, who criticize the plots being cut off, making no sense, the characters doing things that are out of character, they get deleted. But yet the lunatic's comments remain on the posts.

IF the show gets renewed for season 9, I'm betting it will be the last. This season so far has just been a shitshow. In terms of the writing for the show, and in terms of the Bvddie fans taking being complete assholes, to the highest degree imaginable.

I don't give a shit about Brad the character or his actor. I hate the character, he fucking annoys me. I didn't find any of this plot funny, just irritating and I want him gone. The mains were pushed to the background this season for Brad, some dumbass that's not some great character, but some idiot.

Also, Oliver is like a child. He only cares about praise and ass kissers. He says what will cause him to look good. I remember there was one time a few years ago, where he had some contact with a Bvddie fan and when the fan said that he was a dick for leading people on about Bvddie if it's not going to happen, he snapped back and said that he was just an actor doing this job and to stop being so mean to him.

In my opinion, he's a fucking moron who did it to himself. Him and Tim. As I said above, they could've gotten the assholes under control or even gotten rid of them from the start by being honest and just saying their stupid Bvddie is never going to happen. But no, they're too worried about ratings dropping, so they throw in Bvddie scenes every now and then to keep baiting those fans and they eat it all up.

Every time Buck and Eddie share a scene, those idiot's are all, "It's happening! Bvddie canon, y'all!" And then nothing ever happens, and those assholes get mad at being baited once again. It's been 7 1/2 seasons. If Bvddie were ever going to go canon, it would've happened by now.

#911 #BuckTommy #911 negativity

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drakorn · 1 day ago

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Rewriting Veilguard Part 2 - The Shadow Dragons

Rewriting Veilguard Part 1 - The World State

Disclaimer: I don't hate the game, I actually think it's quite great given the development hell Bioware went through in those 10 years. This is more of a hypothetical universe where there was less of that behind the scenes drama. Just a fun writing exercise.

Writing an Origin Story Mission for the Shadow Dragons

Now that we have dealt with our World State, it’s time to pick Rook’s background. When I first learned that there would be six factions to choose from, I was honestly very ecstatic. You’re telling me we’re getting six different origin stories for Rook? Did BioWare finally listen to the fans’ wish to get one more game with DAO-style prologue missions before the big main plot begins? Then I learned that six of the companions you meet would represent one of those respective factions, and I was like “Amazing, so you will definitely have one party member with whom you can at least align interests and goals from the start.”

What we ended up getting was…sort of something in the middle. Your backstory is brought up and you get quite a lot of unique dialogue regarding your faction. If you’re a Shadow Dragon, there’s a lot of Minrathous dialogue tailored to you specifically. If you’re a Grey Warden, you’re having an absolute field day whenever the Blight is involved, which is…a huge chunk of the game.

But there was…something missing for me. You see, when we start the game, we’re immediately thrown into this epic mission where Rook, Varric, and Harding find Neve and race to stop Solas. It feels very much like we’re starting somewhere in the middle rather than at the beginning. And that, in my humble opinion, is due to the lack of a unique origin story that you can actually play through. So, here’s what the next few parts of this hypothetical rewrite of Veilguard will focus on: creating six unique playable origin stories that would very much be doable without the vampiric leech known as “development hell” hovering over you. This post will focus solely on the Shadow Dragon origin story, so stay tuned for the others. I’m aware of how long it might take between posts, but I want to make sure I do this the right way.

Creating Rook

We start the game, which immediately kicks off Varric’s opening narration. But instead of Varric talking about Solas immediately, we’re gonna set the stage for the general state of Northern Thedas: with the South experiencing a few years of relative peace, the North is a wholly different story: Tevinter and the Qunari have engaged in a bloody and brutal all-out war, the Grey Wardens are growing more reclusive, strange reality warping occurs in Arlathan Forest, a part of the Antaam broke off and is now occupying Antiva and Rivain, strange whispers arise from the Grand Necropolis, basically, everything is in chaos. But Varric is certain that one person is the key to all this. Cue the distant howling of a wolf and six red eyes. Cut to black.

Now we get to customise Rook and choose our faction. As the title of this post suggests, we’re taking the Shadow Dragon route. The backstory text, however, is going to be different to the one we get in DAV. You see, when reading through those backstories, I got the feeling that all of them sounded like outlines for what could have been the origin story quest. I am actually 100% confident that BioWare planned on including prologue missions at one point but had to scrap them due to development hell reasons. And all of the six summaries essentially boil down to “you upset some higher authority and now your faction wants you out of the spotlight.” All the choices regarding Rook’s personality have already been made for us. Playing this actual backstory allows us to roleplay in a roleplaying game, which…shocking, I know, but here me out. Instead, the origin text we get when we click on the Shadow Dragons is simply going to be:

“You are a Shadow Dragon. This underground resistance opposes corrupt rulers and slavery in Tevinter. Coming from all walks of life, they are determined to bring justice to the people. As a member of House Mercar, a renowned Soporati family renowned on the battlefield against the Antaam, you have much influence to bring, and much to lose.”

That’s just the small little snippet we see when hovering over the option. But that’s all we’re gonna get for now. There is no mention yet of Rook’s personality as we’ll get to shape it ourselves a little bit. So, we customise our Rook, finalise our massive World State, and click on the play button at last.

Varric’s narration continues, just like in DAV, but this time, he’s going to give us our chosen faction’s backstory. We get a recap on how Dorian and Maevaris founded the Lucerni shortly after the war with Corypheus and how much of a ray of hope this group was in the twisted and corrupt society of the Tevinter Imperium. But then, some of the more powerful magisters began to heavily push against them, eventually leading to Maevaris being framed for treason and losing her seat in the Magisterium. She took all the blame on herself so that Dorian would be able to retain a spotless reputation and continue their work on the great political stage. Maevaris took the remaining Lucerni underground and formed the Shadow Dragons, continuing their work under a different name. Now unbound by political restrictions, the Shadow Dragons are free to take more radical measures in their fight against oppression and slavery. And Varric is confident that the perfect candidate to go against the bigger threat can be found in this group.

The Shadow Lair

Our story begins in Minrathous, in the underground base of the Shadow Dragons. And right off the bat, we’re making a change regarding said base’s location. In DAV, it stands in a random building somewhere in Dock Town that pretty much anyone could access. I get that they were probably going for the “hide in plain sight” approach, but let’s actually have some fun here.

In this rewrite, the Shadow Dragons are literally operating from the underground. Now, Minrathous’ underground system has two things that are very beneficial for a secretive rebellious organisation:

Vast catacombs. The catacombs of Minrathous are so massive that they can store food to survive years of siege. Minrathous, like so many cities and settlements in Tevinter, is built on the bones of Elvhenan. You can easily get lost in those catacombs.

Gigantic sewers. The sewers are arguably even more treacherous than the catacombs, because we have seen in Tevinter Nights what can lurk there. Imagine the sewers of the greatest city in the world, the greatest magical city in the world. Surely it comes with its own set of urban legends akin to the sewer gator. But in a city like Minrathous, those legends are probably true. Failed magical experiments, lyrium-infused mutations, abominations of former mages who failed some twisted blood magic experiment, possessed objects; all this can be found in Minrathous’ sewers. Dangerous for everyone, and therefore perfect for the Shadow Dragons.

The Shadow Dragons operate from a place called "The Shadow Lair”, a section of an underground district known simply as “The Undercity”. That’s where all the poor and forgotten retreat if they wish to disappear from the world, or criminals who flee the Imperium’s justice system. A dangerous but also perfect place.

NOTE: For the duration of the prologue, Rook will be referred to by the name of Mercar, as “Rook” is the name they give themselves after disappearing from the scene.

Depending on what race Mercar is, the stakes vary:

If Mercar is a human, they are the direct heir of House Mercar, destined to take over the family name one day. If Mercar is a human mage, they are currently in the process of getting their family appointed to Laetan status, which will give them more political power and influence.

If Mercar is a dwarf, they are an adopted scion of House Mercar.

If Mercar is an elf or a qunari, they are an official slave of House Mercar, but it’s made pretty clear in the beginning that House Mercar’s slaves are slaves in name only, while actually being more akin to paid servants. House Mercar simply refers to them as slaves to stay under the Magisterium’s radar and actually uses them to pass on information to the Shadow Dragons.

I was personally disappointed that DAV didn’t really touch on Tevinter’s slavery system. It felt a bit like I was treated with kid gloves and not given the trust to being able to handle dark topics. But Tevinter, as has been established in all DA media before DAV, is a pretty dark place for anyone who isn’t a human mage. And it’s important to depict that as it shows the stakes and just how rotten of a society the Imperium is. We need to see what the Shadow Dragons are actually fighting for. It’s not enough to just tell us how much a freedom fighter group we are, no, we need to see it.

Meeting the Leaders of the Shadow Dragons

For the sake of this playthrough, our Mercar is going to be a human mage, and thus not only the direct heir to the house but also one who can elevate it to Laetan status. We have a lot to lose, so we must be extra careful in this precarious situation.

So Mercar meets with the leaders of the Shadow Dragons, namely Maevaris and the Viper. From this conversation, we get the general gist of what’s about to happen and why we are here: House Mercar decided to get a bit more involved with the Shadow Dragons after both parties discovered a massive plot for something big involving Minrathous’ vast slave population. Whatever it is, it’s happening somewhere in Dock Town, and we are to rendezvous with Neve Gallus, a local and renowned detective, to get to the bottom of this.

Exploring the Shadow Lair

After the conversation, we get to have a quick look around the Shadow Lair, where we can instigate a small series of encounters:

We can talk to Maevaris some more and learn about her past and her motivation behind what used to be the Lucerni.

We can talk to the Viper and learn more about him, how he’s usually running operations and that he’s from an Altus house. But that’s about everything you can learn about him at this point in time.

We can meet Lorelei and learn about her being one of the city elves Loghain sold to Tevinter all the way back in DAO. She will give a few remarks on how the Hero of Ferelden dealt with the Alienage and how she and Alistair made it a more just place.

NOTE: For this rewrite’s hypothetical playthrough, the Hero of Ferelden is a Human Noble who romanced Alistair and became Queen of Ferelden. She is now searching for a cure for the Calling.

We can have a bit of a look at the Undercity and just see how much of a poor and dark place it is. This is the gutter, no, this is below the gutter. The people here wish to disappear. They are miserable, most of them have given up hope. The Shadow Dragons are the only ones who actually care about them.

Since the Undercity is below modern Minrathous, we can see traces of ancient elven architecture on display, including mosaics and frescoes.

An Old Friend

Just as we’re about to leave for Dock Town, a familiar face strides into the Shadow Lair: Varric Tethras. Yes, we actually get to see Rook’s first meeting with Varric here! Maevaris greets and introduces him to us (and we actually get to know that Varric and Maevaris are family, which DAV kind of glossed over, thank you very much). Mercar gets to have a first chat with Varric, where he assess our personality. This vibe check is what allows us to determine Rook’s general personality: are we diplomatic, humorous, or aggressive? I fully get that Varric wouldn’t pick an evil person to fight against Solas, but we should still have some kind of roleplay room regarding Rook’s way of thinking and speaking.

Varric’s purpose in these prologues is very similar to Duncan’s in DAO. He’s the one who recruits you into the larger fight and acts as a mentor figure for a while. I was actually fully expecting that to be the case in the actual game when we were told that Varric recruits Rook into the fight against Solas. Well, he did, but I would have liked to see it! Alas, we shall do so here!

Varric stays behind in the Shadow Lair while we go off and do our thing.

Entering Dock Town

Dock Town is pretty much right above the Undercity, the gutter above the actual gutter. The entrance to the Shadow Lair is quite hidden with enchantments, known only to Shadow Dragons and their associates.

Dock Town is going to stay pretty much exactly as we see it in the game. If there is one place in Minrathous where everyone could mingle without being necessarily immediately prosecuted, it’s that place (which is probably why that’s the only part of Minrathous we see in the game, but I digress). However, there will be one major change: slavery is still a thing.

Dock Town is…well…a place where ships dock. That includes ships of slave traders and prisoners of war. In this rewrite, Tevinter is still locked into a war with the Qunari, so there will be a lot of that reflected in the environment. As we walk through Dock Town, we see guards on high alert, slaves and prisoners being led away in chains. We’re doing some important environmental storytelling here that lets us know exactly why Tevinter is a place that needs to be liberated and changed so desperately.

Meeting Neve Gallus

We find Neve Gallus at the Cobbled Swan. Depending on dialogue choices, we might or might not have heard of her up to this point. I think it would be fun if Mercar could geek out about her because he read some sensationalist tabloid about one of her cases.

So Neve tells us that a huge part of Dock Town was closed off for a great event, a former small coliseum that hasn’t been used in decades. Coincidentally, several unpurchased slaves and prisoners of war are being dragged into that area.

Neve has a good lead to assume that the Venatori are somehow behind this because of course they are. Neve gives us a recap on what the Venatori are and how she had multiple run-ins with them already. She is to be absolutely certain that Mercar can be trusted as they will need to work together on this. In response, Mercar shares his side of the information, that his father, Charon Mercar, who is also a respected Legatus in this rewrite, oversaw a strange pattern in how many prisoners of war and masterless slaves, primarily from places like Ventus and Carastes, Qunari-conquered cities, have simply disappeared, and how surprisingly many military vessels have been transferred to Minrathous. Since Neve is a detective, it’s fun to make this part of the journey feel a bit like a crime mystery.

Once all information has been shared, Neve declares that it’s time to go.

Approaching the Coliseum

Neve takes us across Dock Town’s roofs towards the closed-off area of the coliseum. There, we see just how massively guarded it is. The official excuse for all this is a military training exercise. Horrifyingly, this is much closer to the truth than we realise. There are Imperial Templars and Legionnaires patrolling the outskirts, so we have to find our way in.

Neve directs us to a secret hiding spot, where we meet Tarquin, who is, as we know, an Imperial Templar working for the Shadow Dragons. Not even he knows exactly what’s happening, but something definitely big is going on.

There are two options before us: do we sneak in from above and observe from the shadows, or do we disguise ourselves as templars and participate in a more open manner? This right here gives us another choice regarding Mercar’s way of doing things. Are we feeling confident enough to just walk in and hide in plain sight? Or do we take the stealthy approach? While Neve is all for stealth, Tarquin prefers the closer look. So a first major choice presents itself:

Follow Neve and observe the proceedings from above, quietly gathering the information you need.

Follow Tarquin and disguise yourself as an attendant, getting a much closer look at the proceedings.

So I’m feeling a little brave right now. I think my Mercar would try to do the bold approach to get better results, even if it means a higher risk. For this playthrough, I’m choosing to follow Tarquin and let myself be disguised. Neve begrudgingly follows along.

Entering the Coliseum

A few minutes later, Mercar, Neve, and Tarquin approach the Coliseum gates in disguise. Tarquin wears his Templar armour, while Mercar and Neve are dressed as mages of the Legion.

Once we enter the arena, we have the chance to explore it for a little while. Doing so allows us to encounter the following:

We can have an early chat with Magister Zara Renata, who will, of course, be very relevant later, along with her lackeys Felicia and Calivan, all of whom are prominent members of the Venatori. Neve is able to make that connection due to Felicia’s brother Livius having so notoriously attempted to corrupt the Wardens at Adamant Fortress in DAI.

We may encounter Magister Bataris, alongside his son Albin and get early hints of just how far the Venatori corruption runs.

If we make a good enough persuasion attempt at the Templar Captain guarding the entrance to a basement, we shall enter it and discover the prisoners and slaves intended for some heinous affair. Here, and only here, if we perform this correct dialogue choice, and being a human mage, unfortunately, certainly helps here, we get to see that our father, Charon Mercar, is among the imprisoned. And the worst of it all? He doesn’t even recognise you. Actually none of the slaves and prisoners react in any way, as all of them seem to be under some sort of spell. As we look closer, we can see that all of them have strange spiked collars around their necks, filled with blood. This is blood magic that keeps them entranced. If we want to risk it, we have time to break our father’s collar and ensure that perhaps, he can escape. So we do just that.

The Imperator

Following our exploration of the Coliseum, we get streamed into a crowd of onlookers as the Imperator of Tevinter’s legions, the Supreme Legatus himself, Magister Aemilianus Laskaris, enters the centre of the arena.

We know from DAV that Tevinter has an Imperator, and the Imperator is not the same as the Archon in this context. While the Archon is the overall ruler, the Imperator is the highest military commander. Think of this guy as Tevinter’s version of Loghain. Laskaris also happens to be one of the loudest voices responsible for forcing the Lucerni out of the Magisterium.

Laskaris delivers a speech in which he proclaims just how bad Tevinter is faring against the Antaam. Here we get some early insight into the fact that a large chunk of the Qunari army broke off and is now bearing down on Antiva and Rivain. However, a large part of it remained and is following the Arishok into battle against the Imperium. And even against this broken Antaam, the Legions are starting to fail.

Laskaris cites lost cities such as Ventus, Carastes, and Neromenian as evidence for the desperate situation Tevinter is now facing. Therefore, something must be done. Something drastic. He presents, to the gathered onlookers, the Salvatio Initiative. Basically, all unpurchased slaves and prisoners of war are to be given to Tevinter’s legions, where Laskaris and the Legates serving under him will perform blood magic rituals to turn them into mindless but ravaging soldiers against the Antaam. Dangerous cannon fodder essentially. He will use tonight’s demonstration to convince the gathered members of the Magisterium to pass a law that will officially permit Tevinter’s legions to use blood magic. Well, we know, Tevinter has always used blood magic behind closed doors, but this will mean that all safety measures are off, all precautions, all careful attempts at hiding it. And the worst part is: since slaves are considered nothing but tools, it won’t even be seen as unethical by the large portion of conservative Senate members. And prisoners of war? Qunari? Who cares about them anyway, right? This is the darkness and true corruption permeating Tevinter. This is exactly why the Shadow Dragons exist to bring back the light.

Several doors open and Laskaris directs all slaves and prisoners to be brought forth. They are all wearing the blood collars. Upon the Imperator’s command, him and several blood mages under his leadership, activate the blood collars and turn the slaves and prisoners into an absolute frenzy. A battle erupts in which the sheer destructive power of the now-mindless fighters is demonstrated.

Mercar now has a choice to make, and it is the biggest one there is in the prologue:

Do we stealthily fight the blood mages and try to rescue the innocent mind-controlled people without blowing our cover? You do, however, risk your father dying.

Do we rush in headfirst and fight Laskaris head-on, saving your father but maybe dooming more innocents and risking exposure?

Do we put our personal emotional interest above the greater good or vice versa? Well, because we broke our father’s collar earlier, we can at least assume that he’s going to be able to fight for himself with a clear head, so let’s focus on the blood mages in a stealthy manner.

Neve and Tarquin quickly take us behind the scenes as the crowd watchers in apt interest. There are five blood mages, including Laskaris, who need to be dealt with. Neve takes one half, Tarquin the other, while you have a go at Laskaris himself. You are masked so he won’t know it’s you.

While Neve and Tarquin successfully dismantle two blood mages each, we sneak right up to Laskaris and try to either knock him out or backstab him altogether. This results in the same outcome but tells a lot about Mercar’s personality. Do we kill this guy and end it now? Or do we try and incapacitate him so that he can still be of use for the future?

Regardless, Laskaris sees it coming and engages in a boss battle against us. It’s a tough battle, one that we are logically meant to lose. If we get Laskaris down to 0HP, miraculously so unless we play on Storyteller mode, the cutscene will slightly change but the outcome remains largely the same.

Laskaris lashes out and wounds us, causing us to fall down, bleeding, losing our mask, exposing ourselves to Laskaris, while the slaves and prisoners stage a mad revolt around us, forcing the gathered magisters to flee the scene. But because we freed our father from his collar, he comes rushing in to save us, engaging Laskaris in a one-on-one duel. Despite “only” being Soporati, he puts up quite a fight with his huge two-hander. We want to help him, desperately so, but we are just too weak. Laskaris is impressed by Charon’s strength, but ultimately, deals him a mortal wound. Just before Laskaris turns to finish us off, he is struck in the shoulder by…Bianca!

Varric steps into the fray and fires off a row of bolts against the Imperator, allowing Neve and Tarquin to take us away as we pass out. As they do so, the Viper appears and casts a spell that shrouds the whole arena in fog.

Back at the Shadow Lair

We awaken in the Shadow Lair and are greeted by Varric. It turns out that he was using this whole mission to assess us from the background, to determine if we are the one he’s looking for. And he decides that, yes, we are. Laskaris, the Venatori, all of this is just one puzzle piece of something much greater. And that’s where Varric tells us about the Dread Wolf. That’s when we hear the little monologue from DAV’s opening. “I knew him as Solas.” The Dread Wolf has returned and is planning to tear down the Veil to restore the world of the ancient elves. Even if our own world must burn. “Someone’s gotta stop him. And that’s where you come in.”

What? We are supposed to accompany Varric on a quest to stop an ancient elven god? Obviously I’m going to refuse because hello? I’m a Shadow Dragon! I just discovered the biggest plot to endanger slaves ever since the Magister Sidereal tore open the Veil to reach the Golden City! I can’t just leave right now to pursue a fairy tale.

At this point, Maevaris joins us and tells us that the Dread Wolf is, indeed, a real threat. Besides, Mercar has to disappear for a while, now that Laskaris knows who we are. We can’t be seen with the Shadow Dragons for the time being. Doing so would just endanger the whole cause.

Reluctantly or readily, that depends on our personality, we concede that there is sense in Varric’s words. Varric advises us to adopt a codename as well, like so many agents of the Inquisition did back in the day. Mercar thinks for a moment, reflects on the most recent events, and decides on “Rook”. Varric approves. “The strongest piece on the chessboard, I like it.”

Afterwards we get a final chance to talk to the members of the Shadow Dragons before we depart, and get a last look at the Undercity. But not all is dire, for as it turns out, Neve is coming along too.

Yeah, so here’s the idea. When I learned that each companion would correspond to a faction, I thought that the faction we choose as our starting point would determine our first companion. So let us attempt this for this rewrite. In this case, we obviously get Neve. It took a lot of convincing from Varric to get her on board, as she loves her city, but she is also smart and realises that if Solas goes through with his plans, there won’t be a Minrathous to fight for.

What follows is a cutscene where Rook, Neve, and Varric depart the Shadow Lair and leave Minrathous altogether. One last time, Rook looks at the city he swore to fight for, then turns around and follows Varric into the unknown. And that’s where the screen turns black and we get our title card:

Dragon Age: Dreadwolf

Yeah…I personally feel like Dreadwolf was the better-sounding title. I totally get why Veilguard was ultimately chosen, but since this rewrite will have far more Solas in it, I think the original name is a bit more appropriate.

And that’s as far as we’ll go today! I hope you enjoyed my little hypothetical take on a potential Shadow Dragon origin mission. Of course, not everything is refined and perfect, but I hope you still got the overall gist of what I was going for! Next time, we shall focus on a potential prologue for the Grey Wardens! Stay tuned!

#dragon age #dragon age the veilguard #dragon age dreadwolf #datv #datv spoilers #varric tethras #dragon age rook #maevaris tilani #dorian pavus #tevinter imperium #minrathous #rewrite #rewritingveilguard #veilguard critical #creative writing #neve gallus #tarquin #the viper #shadow dragons

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thatswhatsushesaid · 2 days ago

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well i think it has finally happened: my multi-year-long hyperfixation on jin guangyao is starting to wane 🥲 and not because he isn’t still my specialist little guy, aka the most interesting and compelling character in mdzs. i think i’m always going to love and adore him, and by extension xiyao and lan xichen and su she. i can’t see that changing, ever; he’s going to become like robin hobb’s fool for me, a fixture in my heart, a delightfully unexpected gift from another book i didn’t realize would change my life the way it did. truly some characters just become a part of you when you think and write about them long enough.

i just… think i have finally said everything i really need and want to say about him. i don’t have many New Thoughts i’m just chomping at the bit to share, or much motivation to revisit cql or the novel to seek out inspiration for More Thoughts. checking the tags just feels like something i do out of habit now, and not because i’m actually that invested in finding new fic or art. and while the bad takes have always left me tired and annoyed in the past, they do something much worse now: they just leave me bored. boredom is the ultimate creativity killer.

to be clear, i don’t have any plans to abandon this blog or stop posting! i’ll probably also keep my sideblogs going for as long as i can still track down some screenshots that are worth sharing, or maybe i’ll start reblogging and resharing older screenshots. i’d like to find a way to make my meta more easily searchable and shareable so that people who find my blog later can make use of my writing. and i still have some fic ideas i’d like to explore, and doing so while being less engaged on tumblr might be a better use of my time anyway.

so tl;dr i’m not necessarily going anywhere, i’m not bouncing from the fandom, but if it seems like i’m around less, or like my unhinged obsession with jin guangyao actually seems to have some hinges on it all of a sudden… well, now you know why lol.

#ray.txt #tl;dr the hyperfixation that has kept me stupidly active here for the last 2-ish years is finally starting to wane #i’m not leaving the fandom or anything (sorry not sorry to the overly invested hate followers who lurk here)#i’m just. you know. /gestures @ the world #really tired and struggling to find my joie de vivre #also at some point what else can i possibly say about this book and jgy that i haven’t already said?#i’ve said it all and i’m too tired to keep having the same arguments with new people every 2 months

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9mysterybook6 · 2 days ago

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really rhyli You still spread lies about me and harass me

You are really pathetic

Sick and pathetic person

You are really brainless if you think you will get away with your actions

You're just doing this because you have nothing against me.

Just trying desperately to get rid of me and hoping I'll leave tumblr.

And some of your posts just a copy of my my writing Then you edited the writing.

And all you do is take pictures of my gacha and write about that I'm I am evil and stuff.

Actually, you are the one who is afraid here.

You are afraid because I am right and I have a lot of evidence against you

You have nothing to prove what you're saying.

You are just a person who lives in her head and imagination

You don't just need to see a psychiatrist, you need to be taken to a mental hospital.

It is clear that you have many problems. I mean, look at what you write.

Redeem To Be Loyal, Outgoing And Clean Cluthes It Doesn't Mean corrupt,

Excuse me, what do you mean by loyalty? to you🙄

What about clothes? This is nonsense.

This is the talk of a crazy person who lives in her head

What about your bullying and harassment of others?

Stop harassing others

Are you really that blind that you don't realize you will regret all your actions?

You will regret bullying, harassing and annoying everyone.

I warn you to stop spreading lies about others and harassing them

Leave everyone alone now.

You are just a person who lives in her imagination and does not accept reality

You write stories about them as if they are the villains and you are the heroine. Don't make me laugh.

What about their pictures and you write that they are apologies to you?

This is all in your head and imagination and Not real

You are just a person living in your imagination Hazbin Hotel and thinking you are a god.

(And as everyone responds to your type)

If you were a god, make the sea fly in its air and the sky a more green and orange color.

Make Antarctica a place like Hawaii

Make the sun rise in the west and set in the east

Make it rain cotton candy all over the world.

But don't write it in a story, it has to happen in reality.

If you make rain cotton candy all over the world In reality

I would be wrong about you BUT If you don't do this. This proves what I'm saying about you.

Didn't you say that you created the earth?

Where is your evidence that you created the Earth?

Remember Don't write it in imagination, make it a reality.

I will follow the weather news and wait to a News about rain cotton candy

It would be better for you not to make up any excuse for not doing rain cotton candy

If you make any excuses, that will prove what I said about you.

This is the type of person who always gets slapped in the face when we say reality and logic.

Did you see what I did to you Rhylie?

I reply to you like a professional While YOU respond to me with harassing words and hateful drawings about me And steal my posts And you spread lies about me and others

Plus you didn't explain why I'm saying hateful things to you You didn't tell the whole truth.

You just took a screenshot of the bad part I said about you.

Now is the time to start

And as I said before, tomorrow I better find the weather forecast talking about rain cotton candy In reality.

You are not allowed to write a story or make a comic.

Or anything related to the choice of your mind in your imagination

I am asking you to do this in real life

But we all know the answer already.😏

Right guys🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂

#galacticsomewhat #gacha community #gacha games #gacha case #gacha rant #gacha #gacha life #gl2

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committingcrimes-2047 · 1 day ago

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HNNNG GUESS WHOS BACK

(I wrote this way too fast because i needed to write this down before i writers block kicked back in so there are probably spelling mistakes, grammar issues (theres always grammar issues with my writing LMAO) goodluck!)

I'm imagining Reader, who is a traveler who goes overseas often. They go to Piltover and meet Vander and decide to join their cause, becoming a merchant to get extra money to bring in.

Reader is getting ready to set sail with their crew and Vander pulls thrm aside just before they leave and gives them a promise ring. Once they do set sail, Reader waves at Vander until hes out of sight.

While they were away, Vander, Silco, Connol and Felicia helped him plan an actual proposal. When Reader did finally return, they were expecting to be proposed to the second they got off of the ship but to their surprise, they were just welcomed back normally. After the next few weeks, Reader stays suspicious but in the end figures that he's going to wait until after they beat Piltover.

Once Reader is no longer suspicious, they set the plan in motion.

One day, Felicia invites Reader out and they walk around topside. Eventually, Reader is dragged into a shop and Felicia pretends to look around before "spotting" an outfit that Reader also likes. Felicia convinces them to buy it, and they do. They head back and Reader styles the outfit and while they were changing, Connol told her that everything was ready and they both sneak out.

While Reader and Felicia were out, Silco and Connol had been cooking. Reader faintly smells their favourite food as they walk out, all dressed up and see that the only thing waiting for them was a note saying that Felicia had to go.

Before Reader could change Silco shows up and asks them to help him gather some supplies or something. He insists that they don't need to change and they head out, grabbing bits and pieces from various shops before heading in a direction Reader doesn't recognise and before they can ask about it, Silco hands them a blind fold and asks them to put it on. Which they do, now incredibly suspicious (and slightly concerned).

Silco leads them along until they stop and he walks off, and Vander tells them to take off the blindfold, which they do. Immediately seeing that they're stabding ontop of an old building, a gorgeous view of Piltover and the sky, the sun setting, casting a beautiful glow over the city. Two chairs and a table, covered in their favourite food and drink and fairylights strung up all around. And Vander, dressed nicely and looking uncharacteristicly nervous.

They sit down, eat and talk and eventually the sun has set and they're witting in comfortable silence when Vander breaks it and asks them to stand up. Weeks of practising what to say go straight out the window and he stutters his way through a small speach before he gives up and pops the question, kneeling and holding up a small box.

Reader stares down at him in shock, completely silent- everything he just said processing in their hand and as Vander goes to stand up- akwardly apologising- he gets tackled down by Reader, who happily says yes.

...

NOW IMAGINE

Every year, at the same time, on the anniversary of his proposal. Reader puts on the same outfit, grabs their favourite alcohol sits in the same place they sat on that day. Mourning the life that could have been.

I hope you guys know, I looked into my drafts to posts this and i found this

I have no memory of writing this

#arcane x reader #vander x reader #I am tweaking out rn #I hope you guys enjoyed this #It took me so long to find a image of him that i liked #i lied #I like all of them but i wanted to find a specific one that made sense for the story #I couldn't find one #This is the best youre gonna get be grateful #I am sorry #I love my mutuals so much #If youre reading this i love you

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thenationofzaun · 2 days ago

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It's after 1:32:00. Here's what she says:

"For me personally it was a moment to be like, oh we can actually kind of reclaim this trauma for Vi. We can help her heal in a lot of ways because I think that was for us something that Vi's arc really did for her, like I've mentioned that we wanted Vi to be able to ask who she was if she had no one left to protect and that meant Vi saying what does Vi want instead of what does Vi do for other people, and sort of one way to do that was for me was getting to sort of process that trauma and reclaim it for herself and work through it and now be able to move forward from it in a healthier happy way."

Incredibly bizarre for a number of reasons. Firstly, the only trauma she talks about is Vi feeling like she has to protect and do things for other people. And the "reclamation" in question is Vi finally being able to choose something for herself, in this case, eating Caitlyn out in the prison cell. Not once does this writer mention the trauma of, you know, being jailed as a teenager then enduring almost a decade of abuse, beatings, solitary confinement, and the grief of thinking her whole family dead. It's like this massive and torturous part of Vi's life that should realistically have a huge impact on her character doesn't even cross her mind. You have a character who endured teenage years in a comically evil prison. And when it's time to write a scene with her in a prison cell, a sex scene at that, the only trauma you feel it pertinent to dissect is a nebulous feeling of obligation? And not the borderline child torture?

There is also no mention of Caitlyn assaulting Vi in S2 episode 3. A rich Piltovian cop beating Vi, who suffered physical abuse at the hands of cops her entire life. This is another trauma that is never mentioned by this writer. Does being in a prison cell stir up any nasty memories of being beaten by wardens as a teenager for Vi? Did getting beaten by Caitlyn stir up those memories? Why, in a scene where she stands with Caitlyn in a prison cell, is none of this brought up? Did this truly not even cross the writers' mind? Or did they think it wasn't that important or significant to Vi's character?

Second, she says that Vi in this moment chooses something for herself instead of doing something for other people because she feels she has no one left to protect. Is she forgetting that this scene takes place directly after her little sister confesses suicidal thoughts to her? Even if Vi didn't pick up on the blatant suicidal implications in Jinx's words (she's not the brightest character after all), she still feels like she doesn't have to protect her clearly grieving and mentally unstable sister who ran off barefoot, unarmed and alone, in a city teeming with armed enforcers? Okay fine, I guess Vi really doesn't care about Jinx nor does she think much of Isha's death.

But then there's the entire idea of this "protect people" trauma being such a big deal for Vi's character arc. So we're supposed to find it empowering when she stops protecting her family and chooses intimacy with Caitlyn. Yet in the show, does this really land? In Season 1 Act 1, Vi definitely tried her best to protect Powder, Mylo, and Claggor. A significant moment was the ending of episode 2, when Vi turns herself in to the enforcers to protect her loved ones and the undercity at large from Piltover's crackdown. A truly selfless, brave, and protective act. But post Act 1, her protective nature is focused entirely on Caitlyn.

In Season 1 Act 2, her stated goal is to save her sister from Silco. Yet she agrees to aid an enforcer to hunt down her sister and is actually very helpful the entire time. She never even tries to hinder or redirect Caitlyn from finding Jinx, even though her Act 1 self was constantly hindering enforcers from getting to Powder. She reveals the name "Jinx" to Caitlyn, then leads her directly to Jinx without considering the consequences. In Act 3, she leaves Ekko to fight Jinx to the death, choosing to protect Caitlyn instead of either of her little siblings. Later, she gives up the name Jinx to the Council. Then she goes on a rampage on Silco's soldiers without ever looking for Ekko or Jinx to see if they survived the bridge fight. So protecting them clearly wasn't on her list of priorities. The next time she protects someone in Season 1, it's again Caitlyn, during the dinner party. Post Act 1, there is never any significant moment of Vi protecting anyone other than Caitlyn in Season 1.

In Season 2 she joins the enforcers for Caitlyn, gasses Zaun with Caitlyn, lets Caitlyn take multiple kill shots at Jinx. Again, she never looks for or even thinks of Ekko. She doesn't do anything to protect the Firelights. She does protect Isha and by extension Jinx. But again, this is after allowing multiple kill shot attempts at Jinx and gassing Zaun. Sure, she states out loud that she thinks the Grey was protecting the people of Zaun, but the narrative itself calls her out via Jinx. So we're not supposed to agree with Vi's assessment that the Grey was protective, are we? In Act 2 we see her protective nature towards her family return when she protects Jinx and Isha from Warwick. (Fun fact: in the leaks she says "he's gonna kill us" before charging at Warwick. In the actual episode she says "he's gonna kill you." Presumably they changed the line to be a bit more selfless). Then she also protects Vander, and later when Isha explodes she protects Jinx from the blast.

But these moments pale in comparison to how much she protects and does things for Caitlyn throughout both seasons. If you keep track of every protective/selfless action Vi takes throughout her run on Arcane, Caitlyn takes the cake as the recipient. At times she either passively doesn't do anything to protect Jinx, Ekko, the Firelights, and Zaunites in general. At other times she is actively the one causing harm to Jinx and Zaunites. So this supposedly profound moment where she "breaks free" of the burden of protecting everyone and chooses to be intimate with Caitlyn........... just falls flat. Because it's just more of the same of what she's already been choosing to do for the last season and a half. This isn't a huge turning point for her character. She's doing the same thing she's been doing for most of her screentime. Choosing Caitlyn over her family.

It was just so baffling hearing this take from this writer because it's so incongruent with what's actually onscreen. There are many moments in the show where it really feels like the story in the writers' heads and the story we all watched don't add up. And many, many moments where it seems the writers don't really grasp the disturbing gravity of some of the things they wrote into the show. Like Vi's time in prison or her being hit by Caitlyn. It's like they sprinkled those things in for spicy drama with no thought to how they would impact Vi as a person. Very shallow and bizarre writing choices.

An Arcane writer saying Vi had sex with Caitlyn in a dank prison cell to "reclaim her trauma"

#arcane critical #arcane s2

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patriottruth · 13 hours ago

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This is a November 26th, 2024 reminder that on March 4th, 2024, the Supreme Court of the United States ordered donald j. trump to have 87 Democrats in both houses of Congress remove his insurrectionist disqualification from ever holding any federal office again; because if he didn't, nothing, including MAGA SCOTUS, could stop Democrats in the House and Senate from disqualifying him; even if he wins the 2024 presidential election. He failed to do so prior to November 5, 2024. He's now counted down to his last 11 congressional business days of opportunity to resolve this matter.

*** Just wanted to include a huge thank you to everyone who is liking and reblogging this post and engaging by writing to your congressional representatives AND Democratic Leaders Schumer and Jeffries. You're all amazing and I appreciate you so much! For those asking when we'll be seeing this in the news, I'm working on that every day; and every time anyone here on Tumblr engages like I mentioned above, it increases the chances that Leaders Schumer and Jeffries will speak about it on major media outlets. For everyone wanting to see this in the news sooner than later, please copy and paste this entire message into an email and send it to everyone you know, and then please also share this information with Marc Elias of Democracy Docket and Citizens for Responsibility and Ethics in Washington via [email protected] and [email protected]; because if enough people contact those attorneys, those attorneys have all of the media contacts they need to gain even more support for this effort.

I'm being asked what people can do once they've contacted their representatives and Democratic Leaders Schumer and Jeffries. The next step is lawyering up for United States vs. trump et. al. (donald trump and every state elector in the Electoral College who attempts to engage in and further insurrection against the United States by voting for disqualified insurrectionist donald j. trump). MAGA and trump are constantly being defeated in court by Marc Elias and his Democracy Docket team across the United States, and Citizens for Responsibility and Ethics in Washington are the attorneys from the Anderson vs. trump case and numerous other cases against MAGA, donald trump, and the trump administration. Those attorneys can and will represent the United States, alongside the actual U.S. Department of Justice, in stopping donald trump from being elected by the Electoral College on December 17, 2024.

I'm so thankful that people here on Tumblr are feeling more hopeful after reading this post; because it was heartbreaking for me to witness the extent of the trauma and misery around this site immediately after the election. I hope this message finds everyone in a much better situation than they were in November 6th. Have a great day, everyone! ***

*** For those asking about a normal presidential line of succession when donald trump is disqualified via Section 3/14A, MAGA SCOTUS addressed this on March 4th, 2024 in their Anderson opinions about how federal enforcement that disqualifies donald trump post-election would change the President-elect to Kamala Harris, not j.d. vance; and technically, j.d. vance is conspiring with a known insurrectionist to assist that disqualified insurrectionist in holding office in violation of the U.S. Constitution, so he's disqualified as well. But if vance wasn't disqualified for giving aid to an insurrectionist, there is no presidential line of succession prior to a President-elect being inaugurated and sworn in; especially when that disqualified insurrectionist President-elect can't even be elected by the Electoral College; so it's just a disqualified presidential candidate dragging down everyone with them due to their insurrectionist disqualification. The Republican party knew that donald trump was and is nothing more than a disqualified presidential candidate who never had a real chance of being elected, thus they knowingly forfeited the 2024 presidential race to Harris when they nominated trump; and MAGA SCOTUS acknowledged this when even they acknowledged that donald trump is, and would continue to be, at the mercy of the Democrats in the House and Senate if he somehow managed to win the election and attempted to hold office as a disqualified insurrectionist. ***

Between today, November 26th, 2024 and December 17th, 2024, donald j. trump has no choice but to go to Congress and have 70 Democrats in the House of Representatives and 17 Democrats in the Senate vote to remove his insurrectionist disqualification, as he was ordered to do by SCOTUS on March 4th, 2024, or he's not legally the President Elect and cannot be inaugurated, sworn in, or hold federal office again on January 20, 2025. The clock is ticking!

What will happen on December 17th, 2024 if donald j. trump hasn't cleared his insurrectionist disqualification via a two-thirds vote of both houses of Congress? Every Elector attempting to elect a known insurrectionist will be disqualified from being an Elector for engaging in and furthering insurrection against the United States. It is impossible for donald j. trump to remain as President Elect on December 17th, 2024; because every Elector in every state who attempts to vote for donald j. trump for President would then have to be immediately cleared of their insurrectionist disqualification by a two-thirds vote of their state legislature so that they could then vote for the only remaining legal, non-insurrectionist candidate. If donald j. trump hasn't cleared his insurrectionist disqualification by December 17, 2024, the only legal presidential candidate the Electoral College can vote for is Kamala Harris.

Article 2: Clause 3: Electoral College See also: Twelfth Amendment to the United States Constitution, Twentieth Amendment to the United States Constitution, Contingent election, Electoral College abolition amendment, Efforts to reform the United States Electoral College, and National Popular Vote Interstate Compact The Electors shall meet in their respective States, and vote by Ballot for two Persons, of whom one at least shall not be an Inhabitant of the same State with themselves. And they shall make a List of all the Persons voted for, and of the Number of Votes for each; which List they shall sign and certify, and transmit sealed to the Seat of the Government of the United States, directed to the President of the Senate. The President of the Senate shall, in the Presence of the Senate and House of Representatives, open all the Certificates, and the Votes shall then be counted. The Person having the greatest Number of Votes shall be the President, if such Number be a Majority of the whole Number of Electors appointed; and if there be more than one who have such Majority, and have an equal Number of Votes, then the House of Representatives shall immediately chuse [sic] by Ballot one of them for President; and if no Person have a Majority, then from the five highest on the List the said House shall in like Manner chuse [sic] the President. But in chusing [sic] the President, the Votes shall be taken by States, the Representation from each State having one Vote; A quorum for this Purpose shall consist of a Member or Members from two thirds of the States, and a Majority of all the States shall be necessary to a Choice. In every Case, after the Choice of the President, the Person having the greatest Number of Votes of the Electors shall be the Vice President. But if there should remain two or more who have equal Votes, the Senate shall chuse [sic] from them by Ballot the Vice President.

Electoral College Elector Selection Process Article II, Section 1, Clause 2 of the Constitution requires each state legislature to determine how electors for the state are to be chosen, but it disqualifies any person holding an Office of Trust or Profit under the United States, from being an elector. Under Section 3 of the Fourteenth Amendment, any person who has sworn an oath to support the United States Constitution in order to hold either a state or federal office, and later rebelled against the United States directly or by giving assistance to those doing so, is disqualified from being an elector. Congress may remove this disqualification by a two-thirds vote in each house. (Wikipedia)

For those who would argue this is misinformation due to donald trump's MAGA cult allies in the Senate preventing him from being convicted, the bipartisan congressional J6 Committee investigated donald j. trump for insurrection, found him guilty of insurrection, referred him for criminal prosecution for insurrection, and donald j. trump was indicted and is currently being prosecuted for insurrection by the Department of Justice (unless the case gets dropped). Section 3 of the 14th Amendment doesn't require a formal conviction, so the congressional investigation, finding of insurrection, and the congressional committee referral for criminal prosecution, along with the federal indictment and prosecution for insurrection, can easily be used to keep donald j. trump from ever holding federal office again. Per the Supreme Court of the United States' own Berger Test to disqualify judges, the ridiculous, nonsensical, unethical and illegal MAGA SCOTUS majority "ruling" pertaining to their attempted declaration of donald j. trump's permanent immunity from federal enforcement of Section 3 of the 14th Amendment means absolutely nothing for him, or any other insurrectionist; because it lacks standing in precedent, law, constitutionality, and relevance.

The three dissenting justices clarify that the only matter that was actually legally settled and, therefore, legally enforceable, pertained to state actions, not federal law enforcement actions against a disqualified insurrectionist presidential or federal candidate, such as donald j. trump, committing the federal crime of being an insurrectionist attempting to hold office without having their insurrectionist disqualification removed via a two-thirds vote of both houses. And so it is legal fact that the Supreme Court did, in fact, order donald j. trump to have his insurrectionist disqualification removed by a two-thirds vote of both houses on March 4th, 2024; it's just that donald j. trump and his legal team were too illiterate and unintelligent to actually read what was legal and had standing (state enforcement against federal candidates), and what didn't (MAGA SCOTUS whining and crying about federal enforcement against federal candidates/their presidential candidate). And MAGA SCOTUS is now permanently legally barred from ever addressing any matter pertaining to federal enforcement of Section 3 of the 14th Amendment against donald j. trump, so they can't even try to interfere on his behalf again should Democrats in the House of Representatives and the Senate demand and force a vote on the matter of donald j. trump's disqualification for holding federal office.

Berger v. United States, 255 U.S. 22 (1921), is a United States Supreme Court decision overruling a trial court decision by U.S. District Court Judge Kenesaw Mountain Landis against Rep. Victor L. Berger, a Congressman for Wisconsin's 5th district and the founder of the Social Democratic Party of America, and several other German-American defendants who were convicted of violating the Espionage Act by publicizing anti-interventionist views during World War I.

The case was argued on December 9, 1920, and decided on January 31, 1921, with an opinion by Justice Joseph McKenna and dissents by Justices William R. Day, James Clark McReynolds, and Mahlon Pitney. The Supreme Court held that Judge Landis was properly disqualified as trial judge based on an affidavit filed by the German defendants asserting that Judge Landis' public anti-German statements should disqualify him from presiding over the trial of the defendants.

The House of Representatives twice denied Berger his seat in the House due to his original conviction for espionage using Section 3 of the Fourteenth Amendment to the United States Constitution regarding denying office to those who supported "insurrection or rebellion". The Supreme Court overturned the verdict in 1921 in Berger v. U.S., and Berger won three successive terms in the House in the 1920s.

Per the United States Supreme Court's "Berger test" that states that to disqualify ANY judge in the United States of America: 1) a party files an affidavit claiming personal bias or prejudice demonstrating an "objectionable inclination or disposition of the judge" and 2) claim of bias is based on facts antedating the trial.

All 6 criminal MAGA insurrectionist and trump-loyalist U.S. Supreme Court Justices who've repeatedly and illegally ruled in donald j. trump's favor are as disqualified from issuing any rulings pertaining to donald j. trump (a German immigrant) as the United States Supreme Court ruled U.S. District Court Judge Kenesaw Mountain Landis was when he attempted to deny Victor L. Berger (a German immigrant) from holding office for violating the Espionage Act and supporting or engaging in insurrection or rebellion against the United States of America.

RULES OF THE SUPREME COURT OF THE UNITED STATES Rule 8. Disbarment and Disciplinary Action

Whenever a member of the Bar of this Court has been disbarred or suspended from practice in any court of record, or has engaged in conduct unbecoming a member of the Bar of this Court, the Court will enter an order suspending that member from practice before this Court and affording the member an opportunity to show cause, within 40 days, why a disbarment order should not be entered. Upon response, or if no response is timely filed, the Court will enter an appropriate order.

After reasonable notice and an opportunity to show cause why disciplinary action should not be taken, and after a hearing if material facts are in dispute, the Court may take any appropriate disciplinary action against any attorney who is admitted to practice before it for conduct unbecoming a member of the Bar or for failure to comply with these Rules or any Rule or order of the Court.

The only misinformation that exists surrounding the Anderson vs. trump ruling is the belief that the MAGA SCOTUS ruling on federal enforcement of Section 3 of the 14th Amendment against donald j. trump settled the matter and handed him permanent immunity from prosecution should he ever commit the federal crime of attempting to hold federal office. In legal fact, MAGA SCOTUS' nonsensical ruling attempting to grant donald j. trump permanent immunity from prosecution for insurrection is grounds for immediate and permanent disbarment; as they're clearly attempting to legislate from the bench and prevent Congress from legislating in a way that's unfavorable to their presidential candidate.

This is the only pertinent and legally important part of the Anderson vs. trump ruling with regards to federal enforcement of Section 3 of the 14th Amendment against donald j. trump or any other insurrectionist committing the federal crime of attempting to hold office without first having their insurrectionist disqualification removed by a two-thirds vote of both houses:

Justice Sotomayor, Justice Kagan, and Justice Jackson Opinion on the Majority Ruling (supremecourt.gov):

Yet the majority goes further. Even though “[a]ll nine Members of the Court” agree that this independent and sufficient rationale resolves this case, five Justices go on. They decide novel constitutional questions to insulate this Court and petitioner from future controversy. Ante, at 13. Although only an individual State’s action is at issue here, the majority opines on which federal actors can enforce Section 3, and how they must do so. The majority announces that a disqualification for insurrection can occur only when Congress enacts a particular kind of legislation pursuant to Section 5 of the Fourteenth Amendment. In doing so, the majority shuts the door on other potential means of federal enforcement. We cannot join an opinion that decides momentous and difficult issues unnecessarily, and we therefore concur only in the judgment.

Yet the Court continues on to resolve questions not before us. In a case involving no federal action whatsoever, the Court opines on how federal enforcement of Section 3 must proceed. Congress, the majority says, must enact legislation under Section 5 prescribing the procedures to “ ‘ “ascertain[ ] what particular individuals” ’ ” should be disqualified. Ante, at 5 (quoting Griffin’s Case, 11 F. Cas. 7, 26 (No. 5,815) (CC Va. 1869) (Chase, Circuit Justice)). These musings are as inadequately supported as they are gratuitous.

To start, nothing in Section 3’s text supports the majority’s view of how federal disqualification efforts must operate. Section 3 states simply that “[n]o person shall” hold certain positions and offices if they are oathbreaking insurrectionists. Amdt. 14. Nothing in that unequivocal bar suggests that implementing legislation enacted under Section 5 is “critical” (or, for that matter, what that word means in this context). Ante, at 5. In fact, the text cuts the opposite way. Section 3 provides that when an oathbreaking insurrectionist is disqualified, “Congress may by a vote of two-thirds of each House, remove such disability.” It is hard to understand why the Constitution would require a congressional supermajority to remove a disqualification if a simple majority could nullify Section 3’s operation by repealing or declining to pass implementing legislation. Even petitioner’s lawyer acknowledged the “tension” in Section 3 that the majority’s view creates. See Tr. of Oral Arg. 31.

Similarly, nothing else in the rest of the Fourteenth Amendment supports the majority’s view. Section 5 gives Congress the “power to enforce [the Amendment] by appropriate legislation.” Remedial legislation of any kind, however, is not required. All the Reconstruction Amendments (including the due process and equal protection guarantees and prohibition of slavery) “are self-executing,” meaning that they do not depend on legislation. City of Boerne v. Flores, 521 U.S. 507, 524 (1997); see Civil Rights Cases, 109 U.S. 3, 20 (1883). Similarly, other constitutional rules of disqualification, like the two-term limit on the Presidency, do not require implementing legislation. See, e.g., Art. II, §1, cl. 5 (Presidential Qualifications); Amdt. 22 (Presidential Term Limits). Nor does the majority suggest otherwise. It simply creates a special rule for the insurrection disability in Section 3.

The majority is left with next to no support for its requirement that a Section 3 disqualification can occur only pursuant to legislation enacted for that purpose. It cites Griffin’s Case, but that is a nonprecedential, lower court opinion by a single Justice in his capacity as a circuit judge. See ante, at 5 (quoting 11 F. Cas., at 26). Once again, even petitioner’s lawyer distanced himself from fully embracing this case as probative of Section 3’s meaning. See Tr. of Oral Arg. 35–36. The majority also cites Senator Trumbull’s statements that Section 3 “ ‘provide[d] no means for enforcing’ ” itself. Ante, at 5 (quoting Cong. Globe, 41st Cong., 1st Sess., 626 (1869)). The majority, however, neglects to mention the Senator’s view that “[i]t is the [F]ourteenth [A]mendment that prevents a person from holding office,” with the proposed legislation simply “affor[ding] a more efficient and speedy remedy” for effecting the disqualification. Cong. Globe, 41st Cong., 1st Sess., at 626–627.

Ultimately, under the guise of providing a more “complete explanation for the judgment,” ante, at 13, the majority resolves many unsettled questions about Section 3. It forecloses judicial enforcement of that provision, such as might occur when a party is prosecuted by an insurrectionist and raises a defense on that score. The majority further holds that any legislation to enforce this provision must prescribe certain procedures “ ‘tailor[ed]’ ” to Section 3, ante, at 10, ruling out enforcement under general federal statutes requiring the government to comply with the law. By resolving these and other questions, the majority attempts to insulate all alleged insurrectionists from future challenges to their holding federal office.

“What it does today, the Court should have left undone.” Bush v. Gore, 531 U.S. 98, 158 (2000) (Breyer, J., dissenting). The Court today needed to resolve only a single question: whether an individual State may keep a Presidential candidate found to have engaged in insurrection off its ballot. The majority resolves much more than the case before us. Although federal enforcement of Section 3 is in no way at issue, the majority announces novel rules for how that enforcement must operate. It reaches out to decide Section 3 questions not before us, and to foreclose future effortfs to disqualify a Presidential candidate under that provision. In a sensitive case crying out for judicial restraint, it abandons that course.

Section 3 serves an important, though rarely needed, role in our democracy. The American people have the power to vote for and elect candidates for national office, and that is a great and glorious thing. The men who drafted and ratified the Fourteenth Amendment, however, had witnessed an “insurrection [and] rebellion” to defend slavery. §3. They wanted to ensure that those who had participated in that insurrection, and in possible future insurrections, could not return to prominent roles. Today, the majority goes beyond the necessities of this case to limit how Section 3 can bar an oathbreaking insurrectionist from becoming President. Although we agree that Colorado cannot enforce Section 3, we protest the majority’s effort to use this case to define the limits of federal enforcement of that provision. Because we would decide only the issue before us, we concur only in the judgment.

What all of that means is that between now and December 17th, 2024, donald j. trump has no choice but to go to Congress and have 70 Democrats in the House of Representatives and 17 Democrats in the Senate vote to remove his insurrectionist disqualification, as he was ordered to do by SCOTUS on March 4th, 2024, or he's not legally the President Elect and cannot be inaugurated, sworn in, or hold federal office again on January 20, 2025. The clock is down to 11 days, and ticking!

Here's why this will work: donald trump's legal tactics are deny, attempt to wiggle out of it on technicalities, and delay, delay, delay. Well, from November 2023 to March 4, 2024, donald trump not only said that he was never an officer of the United States, but that he also never swore an oath to support the United States Constitution. And then he said that Section 3 of the 14th Amendment says nothing about running for office, only holding office, and since he's only running for office, nothing can keep him off the ballot. And that's where this has finally caught up to him.

SCOTUS illegally took the case to begin with. Per the U.S. Constitution, SCOTUS was required to kick the case back to Congress immediately to force a two-thirds vote of both houses to remove or enforce donald trump's insurrectionist disqualification, and that would've settled the entire matter within a day. But they illegally denied Congress the ability to vote on it at the time, illegally legislated from the bench to keep donald trump on the ballot by illegally amending Section 3 of the 14th Amendment of the United States Constitution, and dismissed the clear two-thirds vote requirement to replace it with "Congress must pass new legislation and amend Section 3 of the 14th Amendment in order to keep insurrectionists off of the ballot and out of office in the future. All six MAGA SCOTUS injustices can now be immediately and permanently disbarred from ever judging or practicing law anywhere in the United States now and in the future for that illegal legislating from the bench; because the U.S. Constitution clearly says that the Judiciary can never interfere with Congress legislating, or with the President enforcing the laws of the United States.

donald trump and his allies figured that was a win, that SCOTUS couldn't be challenged, that the Democrats could never get legislation passed to keep him off the ballot or from holding office again, and the matter was dropped. But that's where he was wrong; because Section 3 of the 14th Amendment still reads, and only legally reads, that the only way an insurrectionist can hold federal office again is by a two-thirds vote removing their insurrectionist disqualification in both the House of Representatives and the Senate; and that means that now that donald trump can't try and use the technicality of "I'm not even trying to hold office, I'm just running for office," and he's actively trying to hold office with no technicality wiggle room, donald trump's only path to the White House is to have 70 Democrats in the House of Representatives and 17 Democrats in the Senate vote to remove his insurrectionist disqualification by December 17th, 2017; and his favorite tactic of delay, delay, delay won't work because delaying means he can't be inaugurated, sworn in, and serve as the 47th President of the United States; and that means Kamala Harris would become 47th President of the United States by default.

donald j. trump is actively engaging in the federal crime of attempting to hold federal office while being an impeached and criminally indicted insurrectionist. Chuck Schumer can easily force the Section 3 vote in the Senate; and if donald j. trump gets no Democrat votes in the Senate, then the House vote is unnecessary. If MAGA mike johnson refuses to allow a House vote, then that's an instant disqualification for insurrectionist donald j. trump.

Hakeem Jeffries Democratic Leader of the House of Representatives https://www.congress.gov/member/hakeem-jeffries/J000294 https://democraticleader.house.gov/contact

Chuck Schumer Democratic Leader of the Senate https://www.congress.gov/member/charles-schumer/S000148 https://www.schumer.senate.gov/contact/message-chuck

Here's a form letter that'll be under 1980 characters no matter if you're contacting House Democratic Leader Jeffries or Senate Democratic Leader Schumer. Just copy and paste the text into the contact form. If these Democratic leaders receive hundreds of these messages from different IP/Internet addresses, we'll have their attemtion. If they receive thousands of these messages from different IP/Internet addresses, we might see this in the news. If they receive tens of thousands of these messages from different IP/Internet addresses, we might finally be free from the threat of another donald trump presidency (turnout is everything in this fight for our human and civil rights, freedoms, and literal survival as non-trump supporters and non-MAGA cult members).

Dear Democratic Leader Jeffries,

My family, loved ones, friends, and I are greatly concerned that Donald J. Trump and all of his MAGA allies, supporters, enablers, donors, and voters have what clearly appear to be genocidal intentions to all American non-Trump supporters and voters whom they call, "traitors, anti-American, enemies from within, very bad people, very dangerous people, racists, radicals, extremists, communists, Marxists, fascists, thugs, liars, sick, ugly, stupid, mindless, thoughtless, brainless, disabled, deranged, criminals, rapists, cheaters, sleazebags, low-lifes, scum, trash, genetically inferior, weak, poison, insects, animals, rats, snakes, and vermin" on a regular basis. As I'm sure that you and all elected Democrat representatives at every level across the United States are aware, Donald J. Trump was not granted permanent immunity from federal enforcement of Section 3 of the 14th Amendment in the SCOTUS ruling for Anderson vs. Trump on March 4, 2024; and the moment Donald J. Trump was declared the President Elect, he was committing the federal crime of attempting to hold office while being an impeached and indicted insurrectionist without first having that insurrectionist disqualification removed by a two-thirds vote of both houses of Congress. Donald J. Trump and his MAGA cult appear to intend to not only deport 15 million people, but to also engage in undeniable genocide and ethnic and cultural cleansing against half the population of the United States (using voter registration as a "vermin" purge mechanism). Thankfully, per the Supreme Court's own Berger Test to disqualify judges, Donald J. Trump's MAGA SCOTUS allies can never intervene on any of his legal cases again, so if you would please bring the matter of a two-thirds vote to the House of Representatives for an immediate vote by no later than December 11th, 2024, my fellow Americans and I would greatly appreciate it.

Respectully,

An American patriot

Dear Democratic Leader Schumer,

My family, loved ones, friends, and I are greatly concerned that Donald J. Trump and all of his MAGA allies, supporters, enablers, donors, and voters have what clearly appear to be genocidal intentions to all American non-Trump supporters and voters whom they call, "traitors, anti-American, enemies from within, very bad people, very dangerous people, racists, radicals, extremists, communists, Marxists, fascists, thugs, liars, sick, ugly, stupid, mindless, thoughtless, brainless, disabled, deranged, criminals, rapists, cheaters, sleazebags, low-lifes, scum, trash, genetically inferior, weak, poison, insects, animals, rats, snakes, and vermin" on a regular basis. As I'm sure that you and all elected Democrat representatives at every level across the United States are aware, Donald J. Trump was not granted permanent immunity from federal enforcement of Section 3 of the 14th Amendment in the SCOTUS ruling for Anderson vs. Trump on March 4, 2024; and the moment Donald J. Trump was declared the President Elect, he was committing the federal crime of attempting to hold office while being an impeached and indicted insurrectionist without first having that insurrectionist disqualification removed by a two-thirds vote of both houses of Congress. Donald J. Trump and his MAGA cult appear to intend to not only deport 15 million people, but to also engage in undeniable genocide and ethnic and cultural cleansing against half the population of the United States (using voter registration as a "vermin" purge mechanism). Thankfully, per the Supreme Court's own Berger Test to disqualify judges, Donald J. Trump's MAGA SCOTUS allies can never intervene on any of his legal cases again, so if you would please bring the matter of a two-thirds vote to the Senate for an immediate vote by no later than December 11th, 2024, my fellow Americans and I would greatly appreciate it.

Respectully,

An American patriot

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