#the only bad thing about this situation is that she had the dignity of leaving rather than being kicked out

[grace-the-ninth]

rosie duffield is an absolutely vile, transphobic shitstain and it is absolutely no loss to labour that she has left the party. it is however extremely funny to see some of my least favourite people ripping each other to shreds

[lazywriters-blog]

SISTER's SUPPORT 2

Summary: You have a story to tell about how you got pushed into a situation by your sister-in-law. Lying didn't get you anywhere.

Since you wanted a part two, here it is. With some sprinkled dark chocolate and layered spooky, I like these kinds of goofy dark scenarios- (not proofread)

You felt like a married couple consoling a raging teen who refused their favorite snack because of something you did. Even if you did, you had no idea of what you did wrong to deserve this, you barely know the twin brother and sister.

Maybe faking it till you make it home safe and sound was a good decision to keep in mind while you slowly and carefully sip your black tea, peering over to the twins who thought taking eyes off of you meant death.

You know they are not bad people, there are only good things you've heard about them in passing, adorable twin magicians with hats and tricks beloved because of it.

You didn't think the sister would have such a temper. Who in their right mind would come forth and throw accusations, unless her dear brother did admire you and you've gone and missed his magic show?

"No need to be coy, you don't need to lie about anything, we know much already. You like my brother too, don't you?"

You couldn't have responded quicker than lyney who gasped and hid his face behind his hand unsure if disappointment or embarrassment was right in his situation. '... Would you please stop embarrassing me and giving me heart attacks?"

"I'm sure he's a good gentleman and-"

"I asked, do you like him or not? Quit beating around the bushes and tell us the truth, that way my brother can rest easy and move on from his unhealthy fixation." She crossed her arms and glared, you are not sure if she's older than you yet.

"Oh... Uh." she's blunt, you were caught off guard, "Well, to be honest, I don't know him. You both are good magicians I've heard, I can't say if I like him or not if I haven't gotten to know him at all."

"Brother, tell her about yourself." She faced him, "You've been pining over a girl who doesn't even know you better than herself and you've been losing sleep over this?"

"Lynette, maybe spare me some dignity and let things happen naturally. Why do you have to rat me out like that?"

"Because I hate seeing you like this."

If you could get up and leave, you would without a second wasted. The twins were bickering while you contemplated your wisest words and phrases, sentences that were guaranteed to get you out of it with your ego intact.

"I said I've lost sleep because of that one failed trick I got wrong, and you were the one to butt in before I could make my move!"

"If I hadn't, this wouldn't be happening! You would be back to stalk-" Lyney quickly put his hand on her mouth and furrowed his eyebrows, as if to say 'Shut up she doesn't need to know that.'

But that expression eased off when he turned around to look you in the eye, "I'm sorry about this, my sister is a little fussy and all, you know..." he nervously smiled, had you not known better or seen it happen you would have believed they had nothing to hide.

"It's fine." What more could you say? They were guilty of dragging you here.

"I am sorry, I am, My sister usually doesn't pull off such stunts, it would be better for us to forget about this and move along." he laughed, but somehow it felt ominous to you, the way he steepled his hand and drop his elbow on the table, he didn't feel threatened anymore.

"Of course, why not," you answered.

"Splendid!" he raised his hands, giving you a tight smile with closed eyes. Giving it a few seconds, he waited for his sister to say something, elbowing her when she didn't.

Were you bonding with the twins? Not really.

"I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings, but would you like to marry my brother? I'm sure he'll sleep better knowing you are his. He's not a bad guy."

If you weren't there, Lyney wouldn't have kept up his smile and made you see him in a good light, however, his smile still appeared strained.

These two were oddly funny siblings with a sudden tendency to expose each other.

"Lynette..." Lyney hummed in a low voice, and his sister did not even flinch, "Sorry bro."

"Was this conversation about marriage from the beginning? Why didn't you say so? I wouldn't have had to worry so much haha..." how were you supposed to get out of this?

Reacting positively could only get you so far.

"So? Do you approve of my brother? You guys should get married in two days." Nothing seemed to faze this girl.

You looked at Lyney, then Lynette and you weren't sure of what you were going to say anymore.

If you say no, you are certain his sister will tear you to shreds and make sure the rest of your days go on as badly as possible, even saying 'I'll think about it' ingrained the same scenario in your head.

It shouldn't be so bad to say yes, no?

"... Why not?"

Saying no meant more harm than good. Besides, you just wanted to get out of this situation as quietly as possible.

"Bro, you owe me one. When can I expect grandchildren?"

"You mean nephews..." lyney replied.

"Yeah, that."

Tag list

@swivy123 @rotin0

@idontevenknow129 @heartsbyvalentina

[pascaloverx]

Rewrite The Stars

Chapter One

Summary: One photo changes your whole life, when you accidentally bump into a celebrity and the world starts to believe that you are a couple.

preview chapter two

The night ends up being good, taking away the pain in your head that doesn't seem to go away. Serving at Pedro Pascal's table is much calmer than you thought it would be. You just need to control yourself so you don't ask for an autograph or over-treat him. Oscar Isaac is also here, having dinner with him. You believe they are just friends having dinner together but you don't want to assume anything.

"I don't know what you did, but the manager is calling you. And I'm telling you, he's in a horrible mood." Your coworker speaks close to your ear and you feel butterflies in your stomach. It can only be about the incident with Pascal. You prepare to hear some nonsense.

"If I don't get out of there in five minutes, rescue me. I feel like even my third generation will be insulted today." You say looking at your colleague as if you know you got screwed. She nods her head positively with a look of empathy. You head towards your manager who is standing near the back door, right where the whole incident happened. You're officially screwed.

"Can you explain to me how you cause an accident with a celebrity on the same day that I made it clear that nothing could go wrong?" Your manager says, while you are confused.

"Sir, as much as it seems like it wasn't me who caused the accident. It was a coincidence, nothing more than that." You speak softly, trying to stay calm.

"There are no coincidences in the world of customer service. This is a renowned restaurant, not a corner diner. My team must be impeccable. Your mediocrity offends me to the point that I won't even ask for your advance notice. Remove your things from my establishment and go to HR as soon as possible." Your former manager speaks, with a tone of contempt.

"You are being unfair, I did my best to carry out my tasks with mastery." You speak almost out of despair. This job is all you have.

"What I am or am not is none of your business. Oh, and don't use this work as a reference, I will make it my personal goal to ruin any job opportunity you have." It was at that moment that his emotional shock turned to anger. Resigning is bad, but getting in the way of having another job is too much.

"So if I have nothing left to lose, I'm going to take this opportunity to be very realistic." You speak losing the last bit of control you have over yourself.

"And what are you going to do about it?” He asks, almost mocking your face. You then take the jug of orange juice and throw it at his head.

"If you'll excuse me, I'll leave with the rest of my dignity." You say, turning around and noticing that people in the restaurant have noticed your disagreement with the manager. Everyone's eyes were on the situation you had just been in and you felt embarrassed. You even wondered where Mr. Pascal was, since you hadn't seen him.

"Are you looking for me?" Mr. Pascal speaks behind you, and you jump discretely scared.

"Do you have a habit of surprising others unexpectedly?" You say, composing yourself and walking towards the employee area. Surprisingly Mr. Pascal accompanies you.

"It's not a habit of mine but I think it's happening a lot when it comes to our dates with each other. I apologize if I'm being intrusive." Mr. Pascal speaks sincerely in your tone of voice.

"You don't need to apologize, I may have been rude. This night suddenly turned into chaos." You say it, trying to be as subtle as possible, but the truth is that you're screwed and you can't even hide it.

"I witnessed the scene with your old boss. I must say that despite the waste of a beautiful orange juice, he deserved every drop of that juice." Mr. Pascal speaks, almost containing his laughter, and you feel happy to amuse someone that night.

"Do you need anything, I still work here until I take off my uniform." You say, imagining that he followed you because he needed something.

"Actually, I came to give you something. I know it doesn't make up for your dismissal but I think you You deserve it for your effort." He hands you a piece of paper, more specifically a check.

"Sir. No need to give me a check for the inconvenience, seriously. At the end of the day, this job wasn't the best." You say, trying to return the check but Mr. Pascal doesn't accept it.

"Take it as a tip for causing all this and for you getting fired because of me." Mr. Pascal says, forcing the check into my hands. You smile thinking that you are incredibly lucky of being in the presence of a celebrity that you like but that your boss made you feel as if you were insignificant.

"Thank you, sir. It was an honor to meet you." You say, taking the check and putting it on your uniform, not seeing the amount or anything. Mr. Pascal takes your hand lightly and you feel as if the world stops for that split second in which he held your hand.

"It was my pleasure, I hope that if we meet again, your life will be in a better situation." Mr. Pascal speaks with an unusual kindness, his smile could light up a village but you could only focus on the fact that he was lightly holding your hand. Your hand in his and his hand in yours.

"Good evening, Mr. Pascal." You say it as soon as you can come to your senses. He nods as if accepting my goodnight and then he returns to his table. And you return to your reality.

[interstellar-wanderer]

Theory about The Ghoul/Cooper: Highly influenced and vulnerable to dishonesty.

Cooper Howard trusts deeply in the people he loves and the idea of the American Dream that was sold to him during the Sino-American war. He fought for those ideals, his country and the people he loved, and before the Great War and drop of the bombs he can't stand any other perspective for his own sanity.

The problem is, he is not a very good actor you see. He usually creates the character of a highly dignified cowboy because it is a projection of what he wants for himself, an ideal version of a man, openly criticizing the choice of the character not doing what he would do in real life (shooting someone), and in his other movie, he plays a role of a man with a dog, with the help of his own dog and not another random dog, I believe because he wanted to portray his own relationship with his loved pet rather than a random role.

He lives his characters and roles, to the point of turning one of them when becoming the Ghoul, this lone cowboy and bounty hunter hurt by his past and tired of the cruelty and dishonesty around the Wasterland.

He uses his emotions and all his heart for his roles and forgets everything else because through his roles he is showing a part of himself in the process, but with the consequence of leaving nothing to protect himself, because he has never created a facade around his person, he is honest and true, th same way we see The Ghoul as he is, no lies nor attempts at dishonesty; he is clear with his intentions to the very end.

But because of this, Cooper is vulnerable and ignorant to true deep dishonesty, to someone who would straight up lie to his face, to someone living two parallel life at the same time. He prides himself on knowing his wife's true motivations and never thinking bad about her, he also sees Lucy and believes her just as transparent but never thought of her surviving SnipSnip.

When Barb showed her real colors during the Vault-Tec meeting, declaring they should drop the bombs themselves, he broke in such a way he went into shock. One would believe he is in fact a good actor, and would try to be good in hiding it, but I would say Barb was a better one by playing two roles at the same time God knows how long and Cooper suspecting nothing of such. This happens when:

1) she convinces him to pose as Vault boy and be part of their promotional campaign

2) then when she invites everyone to the wrap party to their house without telling him, subsequently not showing remorse at him being abandoned by his Hollywood friends

3) then gatekeeping him regarding her status as worried housewife during the war in Anchorade and how stupid his idea of a ranch was

4) ultimately convincing him to accept his dog should go (something we all know made him suspect of Vault-tec and her), for the sake of their security.

But this caused a drift between them, him starting to suspect something was up when she told him they wouldn't be safe if they buy a bunker themselves because it wouldn't work, then trying hard to "put everyone in one of the GOOD vaults, one which would oversee all others".

This is when his world started to crumble. Not only her lying, but she not trusting him enough with the real truth of their situation, manipulating him instead with a dishonest facade.

The worst part is that it is very likely she knows this about him, his soul is rooter in honesty, fairness, and dignity, do the right thing the same way Lucy envisioned before coming out of Vault 33. He doesn't expect his wife to lie to him or represent a version of the world he fought against, he doesn't expect his country to betray him regarding their safety.

We can understand now why he became such a bitter man, and why he seems to avoid the old version of himself.

Maybe he thinks, if he had known, if he hadn't trusted so damn much, if he hasn't been so vulnerable and hasn't opened his heart expecting the same back, maybe he could have done something to stop it all.

Now every time he looks back, he seems to hate the man he was so very much.

[ornii]

Hi how about an Enid Sinclair x Male! Reader. where both are werewolves and wake up together one morning after a full moon night in the woods[Not with clothes on, of course]. They haven't talked much to each other before but they know each other anyway Enid knows everyone. Throughout the day, both remember what happened and that there was nothing "bad" about it. They talk to each other in the evening, with Enid finally confessing to him that she actually thinks it's a bit of a shame that it didn't happen. The reader just looks at her in amazement while she says with a wink that she feels more for him. He can only grin and says me too when she already pounces on him and wants to catch up on things that didn't happen.

In the Pale Moonlight

Enid Sinclair X Male Werewolf

It was all a blur at the beginning, the sudden racing of your heartbeat. The heavy breathing you started to do, you couldn’t control this primal urge overcoming you suddenly. Your head began to bound with the sound of your own blood rushing from your heart, your eyes dart upward to the full moon. In that instance you immediately recognized What was transpiring. You attempted to stand up to reach the door, only for your feet to expand out of your favorite pear of slippers. Your body hair growing and in places no body hair should exist. Your only salvation was the wolfing chamber, specifically made for situations like this.

Leaning against the wall, you attempt to make it to the door of your dormitory to get outside, it you could only make a few steps before collapsing, and your mind slowly going blank, the howl of the night was the last thing you could make out before it was over. You had no idea how much time passed before you slowly began to regain control, feeling the dirt in your claws, on your feet.

Finally regaining normal vision you watch your hairy arm slowly revert back, the ill moonlight shining on the forest, slowly you sit up, eventually looking at your surroundings to figure out just where you’re at, your eyes do catch something as well, a hand. Since the moonlight had its own reflection and light, the shadows casted by the darkness hid much but you leaned in to get a closer look, until you were met face to face with a girl. You both keep back with a small scream. She looks down quickly, realizing she’s naked and covers her body. You advert yourself eyes.

“Shit! Im so sorry!” You say, trying not to let the embarrassment stop you from doing the right thing, you felt the cool wind against your back, your spine, and also realize you’re naked. You back into the shadows of a few trees to hide whatever shred of dignity and manhood you had.

“I’m really sorry about that..” you mutter. The girl, also shrouded by a few trees tries to be a bit more pleasant.

“I-it’s fine, I didn’t know I’d wolf out..” she said. When you looked more at her face you recognized the uniqueness of her hair, and the beauty of those teal green eyes, you couldn’t mistake her anywhere else.

“Enid?” You asks, and she slowly nods.

“Yeah, and you’re (Y/n).” She said, Enid was the social butterfly, if you could call her a butterfly of Nevermore so she’s the need to know kind of type of girl. You two stood a bit away from each other, trying not to let hormones and curiosity take over.

“So, first time wolfing out?” You ask, immediately realizing it’s a dumb question, you attempt to take it back but she answers.

“It is.” She says..

“Oh…” you murmur, you looked up to see the moons position and your tracking training kicks in.

“It’s gonna be daylight soon, we should probably get back to our dorms.”

“Yeah..” Enid agrees and you both move out of the moonlight but quickly back in, it was an awkward few tries before you decide to cut it short. “You should just go first.” You say.

“Okay, you aren’t gonna peek or anything will you?”

“Of course not, promise.” You turn around to face a tree and Enid hesitates for a moment, before leaving. You hear the rustling leaves and you think for a second, you decide this might be your only chance and you spoke up.

“Hey, Enid?” You say, she stopped and turned to see you were still staring at the tree.

“Congrats on, wolfing out.” You say, while it was embarrassing to be naked in the forest with a boy you barely knew, his words of encouragement meant more than she expected. She couldn’t help but smile at this.

“Thanks.” She, in a much happier mood, headed back to her dorm before the sun could expose anything, you quickly made haste after she made a good distance away from you.

The sunlight rose on the next day, and you were trying to remember most of your wolfing out. Sitting in class you were staring off into space, trying to remember most of it, it was a haze for the most of it, but you could remember that it was mostly running, howling and, fighting? Mostly just horsing around with Enid. Thankfully you didn’t harm anyone or her. Hopefully this was something you could just shove into the back of your mind and forget, but you couldn’t and you had to confirm your theory. Late In the evening you approached Enids form room and with caution, knocked. Knowing there’s a possibility you could run into her roommate, Wednesday was a nightmare.

“Hey.. uh, Enid? It’s (Y/n).” You say, “Can.. We talk?” You ask. Your hear it unlock and out comes Enid, more casual wear and still had the pink dye in her hair.

“Cmon.” She says and you enters, noticing the split of color and lack of on the other side of the room, definitely Wednesdays side, best for avoid it, might be cursed or something. You take a moment to sit on Enids bed as she approaches.

“There’s, something I’ve been meaning to ask you, I thought a lot about last night, I’m glad I didn’t hurt you or anyone. Do you remember last night?” You ask, she looks more bubbly than before.

“Yeah, it was.. Rough. Not like that kind of rough just, fun.. I really enjoyed it actually. I’ve never wolfed out before and I had someone to wolf out with.” Enid stated, and she looked you dead in the eyes and with the most obvious hint, said “It’s a real shame we couldn’t do anything else~” she winks and a sudden hotness rushes over your face. You blink a few times and put on a smile.

“Well, feelings mutual.” You say, and she takes the opportunity to close in. Sitting on your lap, you feel her palms land softly on your shoulder and her lips close in, reciprocating her feelings, your arms coyly wrap around her lower back and waist and feel her soft breath against your lips. Her eyes closed and you shut yours to feel her lips embrace yours, her soft giggling in your ear hummed. Lying on her bed, it was the perfect time for you two to catch up on the events that could have happened last night

[kassiekole22]

You're Beautiful

Picture edited by me.

Pairing: Josh Washington x Fem!Reader Description: You reflect on the time when you finally decided were forced to tell your long-time crush — Josh Washington — how you feel. Warnings: Fluff, Friends To Lovers, Pining, A Lot Of Angst Towards The End. Word Count: 1.6k A/N: Fic #2 of the Until Dawn Poll Fic Challenge! Also, this is technically my very first Wendigo!Josh fic! It was pretty fun to write, so expect more in the future. 🤭 Until then, I hope you enjoy this one! 🖤 Josh's MasterList: 🖤 Main MasterList: 🖤 Kassie's Angels: @lorebite, @mornandil, @koexchange, @yesitsloulou, @mistmoose, @jasonexo, @fortune-fool02, @raven-the-cryptid, and @imahyperfixatedbitch. (If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know in the comments! 🖤)

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"Truth or dare?"

I sat awkwardly in silence as the whole group stared at me with anticipation clear on their faces. I didn't know how I got roped into that stupid party game; it was more for twelve-year-olds than a bunch of people in their late teens.

But there I sat, contemplating my answer as my friends stared at me with a hungry look in their eyes as they waited for me to make a decision. If it had been anybody else, it would have been an easy answer: truth. But this wasn't anybody — this was Jess.

A few people knew about my crush on Josh: Hannah, Beth, Sam, Chris and even Jess too — though I knew that the others would keep their mouths shut until I was ready to express my feelings to him, I also knew that Jess was different. Now I'm not saying that having a friend with a bold and forward personality is a bad thing, but sometimes it can come with a price — and that price was my dignity.

Now don't get me wrong, it's not that I thought Jess would outright tell Josh about my crush — she was smarter than that. I knew for a fact that she would wait and leave me in a situation where I would have to tell him. And tonight was most likely going to be that night.

"Well — truth or dare, (Y/N)?" Jess asked again with a huge smirk growing on her face. The devilish and mischievous look in her eyes didn't help my nerves either. "You have to choose one."

Without giving it a second of thought and panicking due to all the impatient eyes staring me down, I blurted out a word that I knew I'd regret saying fast: "Dare!"

All the eyes widened in the room due to my bold answer, even Jess'. It seemed like nobody expected me to choose dare, since I was always the "play it safe" type of girl. But as fast as that shocked expression etched into Jess' features, a new and more sinister smirk grew.

"Ok." She sang angelicly as a new, and very fake innocence filtered through her voice. "I dare you to..."

I knew damn well that she was only dragging this out to add to the anticipation, because it was clear in her eyes that she already knew her answer. Her eyes burned holes in mine, as her smirk broadened with much excitement.

"Kiss the most beautiful person in the room!"

I nearly choked on my own spit as her words met my ears. Everybody began whispering and looking to see everyone else's expressions, which didn't help the matter. I had told Jess hundreds of times just how beautiful I found Josh to be, so she clearly knew what she was up to.

I glared her down as if I was trying to kill her with my mind, while she merely bit her bottom lip to repress a laugh. I looked around the room to see the ones who knew looking sorry and scared for me, while Emily seemed more focused on her nails than anything, and then Mike seemed almost ready for me to come to him with puckered lips. And then there was Josh, sitting there with a big smile on his face; it was obvious that he was oblivious of the situation.

I heaved a deep and defeated sigh before standing up, passing a very horned-up Mike, and shyly approached the guy I had wanted for so long. He stared up at me with a sweet smile on his face and a look of innocence in his eyes, which was weird for the dirty-minded fucker we all knew he was.

After inhaling and exhaling deeply one more time — almost as if to gain some sort of confidence I knew I wouldn't obtain by one more deep breath — I leaned down in front of him, and gently placed my lips against his own.

The room filled with audible gasps and more whispers, but none of it mattered or seemed incoherent in my now intoxicated mind. I melted into the kiss as my nerves seemed to die down, not giving a damn about what the others were saying or thinking. And to my surprise, he leaned into the kiss as well, seemingly enjoying it as his arms snaked around my form to hold me close. After what felt like an eternity, I pulled back to meet the gaze of a very flustered Josh. I couldn't help but smile at how his eyes were blown wide and his face was as red as a tomato; it was cute, though I knew his face most likely mirrored my own.

I chose that exact moment to lean in again, until my lips were just barely brushing his ear.

"You're the most beautiful man I have ever seen." I whispered softly, so no other could hear my intimate thoughts that were only meant to be heard by the one who meant to most to me.

My heart was pounding — not only from the adrenaline from what I just did, but from the amount of love I felt for him and the excitement I felt, knowing that this may be the start to a future together — a future that would change our lives for the better forever. I couldn't stop smiling, since the amount of happiness I felt couldn't compare to anything I had ever felt before. I knew at that moment that from that day on, things were only going to get better.

That feels like so long ago now...

Now I sit in a hospital room, eagerly waiting for the doctor to give us any kind of news. The only sounds I hear are my heart beat ringing in my ears — no longer due to the happiness I felt two years prior — the sounds of doctors and nurses rushing by to save lives, and the soft cries of Josh's mother as her husband holds her close. I can't stand it — it hurts too much, sitting here while completely powerless. The fear and heartbreak I feel is like nothing I've ever felt before, and I know there is a strong chance that it could only get worse.

I have been going to the hospital every day for two weeks, repeating the same routine as I wait for answers — but barely anything ever comes. So for the time being, I watch the clock intensely, counting the seconds as they tick by — insync with my heartbeat and only making it all the more noticeable. On one hand, I'm happy that Josh is still alive; but just knowing a tiny bit of information about his condition makes it hard to feel any bit of joy. I just want my baby to be ok.

After what felt like a lifetime of waiting, the doctor finally comes out and delivers the news. I'm surprised to learn that he is finally becoming himself again, and asked for one person to come see him: me.

The doctor leads me to a darkened room, and warns me to keep my distance. Apparently, just because Josh is slowly gaining his humanity back, doesn't mean his wild side has gone completely. So I have to be careful and cautious. I enter the room alone, though I know there are cameras on me, watching my every move.

The doctor told me that the only reason the light has been so restricted, is because of the sensitivity of Josh's eyes. Spending two and a half weeks in the pure darkness of the mine weakened his irises and pupils, causing the color to drain from them almost completely and leaving him almost blind. If he is in any type of lighting at this time, it would be equivalent to having his eyes on fire. So for this reason, the room must remain as dark as possible.

There was only a was only a very dull light shining over his bed, provided for seeing purposes for doctors and visitors. And thanks to that little bit of light, I can see enough to move around. And after a few slow and hesitant steps, I approach a bed.

Tears fill my eyes as I stare down at his weakened form; he barely looks like himself anymore. His left cheek is torn, his teeth are sharp and he's the most pale I have ever seen him look. I can't help but notice all the cuts all over his face and arms as well, and I shudder at the fact that I know exactly what did it. It breaks my heart to see his limbs strapped down to the bed, as if he was some sort of psychopath. Though what Josh did would seem pretty psychotic to a stranger's eye, I know in my heart that he isn't — he is just in pain and needs others to feel what he's feeling.

After a few minutes of quiet investigating on my part, Josh slowly turns his head in my direction and opens his eyes. He gazes up at me with a look of sorrow and remorse — as if he's telling me he's sorry with his now pale orbs. I take his hand in my own, quickly noticing the sharp claws replacing his nails. Just as I look down at them in shock, he let's out a mournful sob.

"I-I'm- I'm- a-a-a m-monster-r..." His voice comes out so raspy and coarse, that I nearly don't recognize it. But the sorrow and pain in his tone is strong enough to tell me that he needs me more than ever.

I lean down and place a very gentle kiss to his bruised forehead, before whispering ever so softly, "You're still the most beautiful man I've ever seen."

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[sanijoys]

Between Reality and Fiction

I don't see a lot of return of the Blossoming Blade x reader. I'll be making one, but it's more of a oc!reader since the reader will have some features that I will be describing. This is for plot purposes and for it to fit the story. So if you do not like it or this isn't your cup of tea, I kindly ask you to turn back :D

(P.S. I can not guarantee that I could continue this as this is merely a practice)

Chapter 1: Lost to Nowhere

In the heart of a bustling city, in a cozy apartment Y/n was sitting on her couch in the living room, she was looking through a webtoon to read a new manhwa to pass the time. While scrolling she encountered one, it was an action manhwa, 'The art style doesn't seem bad, though I’m not an action reader…. Changing some things doesn’t seem bad.’

She read through the manhwa and she admitted that throughout the webtoon she had a lot of laughs. The main character was hilarious and yet overpowered. Though there were a lot of attractive characters. Even the side characters were attractive and they were only side characters! As she was about to click the next button to chapter 69, her vision blurred, 'What the.’

Y/N's heart raced as she stumbled to her feet, disoriented and bewildered by the sudden shift in her surroundings. She squinted and shielded her eyes in a futile attempt to block out the piercing light. No matter how hard she tried to make sense of the situation, the blinding light refused to yield. It was relentless, an all-encompassing brilliance that seemed to sear itself into her consciousness.

“Arck-!”

Y/n felt the room around her shift, and the once-silent apartment was filled with the rustle of leaves and the distant sounds of a bustling market. Her heart raced as she found herself standing in the middle of a bustling town, surrounded by people dressed in familiar traditional clothing.

“Wha-”

“Oi! Keep moving!”

A hard push made Y/n stumble forward bumping into a civilian. The civilian groaned from the impact, however, Y/n landed on the ground hard. She tried to stand up from the ground, this is when she noticed her clothes. Her comfortable clothing was replaced by dirty rags, she also noticed that her right ankle had a chain attached.

Clank*

Y/n looked at her restricted wrist, both wore metal chains. One thought came to her mind throughout this, did she accidentally eat drugs? But her thoughts were cut off. A heavy foot stomped on her right shoulder.

"Ack-" 

She was forced to lay down in an uncomfortable position on the ground. She glanced at the culprit, it was another person wearing traditional clothing except he was bigger and had a greedy look in his eyes.

"I told you to move! Don't lay on the ground, you dimwit!"

'I don't know what he's talking about but I want to kick his ass.'

Y/n was so tempted to shout at the scumbag but was cut off by a masculine voice. Her attention was caught by an older man who drew her eye since he was dressed much more elegantly than the rest of the folks in the busy town. Despite what he wore, he held himself with so much dignity and grace.

'Now that I'm looking at him... He looks oddly familiar...'

"I may kindly ask you to take your foot off the child," His eyes looked at the greedy man with so much firmness, that it was as if he didn't obey what he asked of him. He'll do something more than just ask or rather demand.

"Now, now," The man who was on top of Y/n nervously backed away but near enough, "You see, good sir, this child (pointing towards you) was being disobedient so it was only-"

He was cut off when the older man spoke with a darkening look, "So treating her as if she wasn't human is what you call punishment? Have you no shame?"

You could see the man was sweating very nervously, but it was gone by the minute. He clasped his hands together looking at the older man with a business smile.

You knew at that moment he was thinking something sinister.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

That's it for now:'D Pretty short :'(( Not sure about chapter 2 but I'll try making it!

[yoditorian]

Lacuna - The Rewrite - Part 2.5

din/gn!reader

the second half of part two's rewrite, my beloved (i say, as if it has not tormented me for the better part of the last three weeks)

original part 2//series masterlist//main masterlist

word count: 3.3k // warnings: some swears, too many italics, non-explicit smut which i know is a turn off but frankly i Don't Care, 18+ no babies

Okay, so it’s not the greatest idea anyone’s ever had - but it’s better than the big fat nothing you had planned before.

Din’s still not impressed. 

“You want to what ?” Even the static crackle of the helmet can’t disguise the fact that he’s clearly not into this plan. At all. And that’s fair enough, you’re not overly keen on it yourself, but time is running out and you’re not sure how much longer this guy is going to stick around planetside. Then you’ll both be back to square one.

“Look,” You sigh heavily, hands landing on your hips, “I need intel, you need the payday. We’re after the information, not the guy, protection was a negotiation tactic.” 

You shrug, kicking a boot in the soil at your feet - ignoring the way he recoils as you explain. In any other situation, this would be risky. Proposing this kind of deal to a bounty hunter, especially one presumably hired by the other side. But this is Din. You know Din, or at least you know him well enough that you’re sure he isn’t going to double cross you. You’ve seen him angry, focused, ruthless, but never once has that side of him been turned on you. He’s trustworthy, which is about all you can hope for in a galaxy where you’re risking your life for every scrap of information you can get your grubby little hands on. 

“That’s harsh.” He says, his tone clipped. Like he’s worried you’ll go back on your word just as easily as you’re prepared to double back on Draven’s promise to his target. Like he doesn’t know you at all. It leaves a bad taste in your mouth, that he’d think you’d do that to him, but that’s something to lose sleep over later. You have to stay focused.

“That’s war.” You snap back.

Okay, so maybe it’s a little bit difficult to stay on task knowing that he doesn’t trust you the way you trust him. 

“Once I have the intel, he’s useless to us. I’ll give him the rendezvous point for pick up, and you can grab him on his way.” You press on, ignoring the churning in your stomach. There’s a job to do. You can lament about it to Shara when you get back to base, she’ll rant and rave and call him a stuck up, no good buckethead. Among other things. She’ll tell you that you can do better, that she’s got a whole roster of potential flings for you in her back pocket. You might say yes, it won’t dampen your feelings for Din, but it might take your mind off of him for a night.

“What about your commander?”

You don’t know why he’s suddenly so worried about the repercussions you already know you won’t face when you get back. You don’t know why you feel so apprehensive about telling him that there won’t be any consequences. It’s not all that different from Ran’s station, doing what it takes to get the job done regardless of the collateral damage it causes. That’s what worries you, that he’ll see you differently. Because you haven’t gone on to join the Rebellion and fight the good fight the way you wanted to. You’re still stealing and lying and cheating your way through life, there’s a loss of dignity in there somewhere. You wanted freedom - and yet, you’re still following orders from a man who doesn’t care for the consequences. The orders which only specified getting the drive and any other useful tidbits the informant might have. You’re sure General Draven has no intentions of protecting him, even if you did bring him back to base with you.

“I can handle my commanding officer.” You leave it at that. Shut down, closed off, eyes hard. Maybe you’re not Draven’s best, but you work hard in the job you didn’t ask for, you’ve yet to bring him a bad tip, and he’s got a hell of a soft spot for you. You could probably go back empty handed, only a vague excuse of the deal going bad and not even get a slap on the wrist. From him at least. It wouldn’t shock you if he was the one standing between you and a pilot seat.

His gaze sits heavy on your shoulders as he watches you, Din knows that, but he’s never quite been able to school himself into apparent apathy when it comes to you. He’s not convinced, still. You’re holding something back from him, he’s sure of that, with your tight shoulders and barely furrowed brow. He’s known you long enough to work out your tells. Somewhere along the way he’s fumbled something, steamed that crease of frustration into your forehead. You mistake his silence for another question. It’s not the one he wants to ask.

“They just want the intel. No one will bat an eye if I go back alone, what am I going to do against a Mandalorian bounty hunter anyway? I wouldn’t stand a chance.”

He doesn’t miss the weight of your words. A double meaning, hidden somewhere in your premixed excuse for your commanders. But he says nothing. Leaves them hanging in the air - it’s better than admitting that, between the two of you, the one who doesn’t stand a chance is him.

You’re back at the cantina the next day, at the same table, sipping the same drink. Just waiting. Din didn’t love the idea. He’d wanted to find the guy last night, shake him down for the datastick, and freeze him into carbonite as soon as possible. But you know that the mark would vanish at the vaguest whisper of a bounty hunter in the city, if he hasn’t already. He might be playing both sides of the war, but this guy definitely isn’t stupid. 

The meeting window is closing, and you’re starting to wonder if your informant has already fled the planet, by the time a stranger slides into the cracked leather of the booth across the table from you. He’s unremarkable in every aspect. The perfect spy - you can only hope his fear of the Empire outweighs his fear of the Rebellion. Or maybe the other way around. Whichever option ensures that he hasn’t called for a squad of Stormtroopers to knock the doors down and snatch you. You’d barely managed to slip out of the back doors the last time that happened, you’re not about to risk it again. 

You weren’t given a name, and you’re sure he wasn’t given yours. Only a vague description, a table number, and a brief time window for him to show.

“I hope this seat isn’t taken.” He says lowly, refusing to meet your eyes. His own are skirting around the few fellow patrons, staring into the bottom of their own drinks in the dim light. Hope . That’s your cue.

“I was just leaving, hoping I can catch the last of the light on the ridge. It’s all yours.” You reply coolly. Your corresponding code word is dropped in about as casually as you can manage. Calm, confident, and if he’s not your guy he’ll be none the wiser. But he is. Because he slides a datastick across the table so quickly you almost don’t catch it. You stuff it into your pocket and rise from your seat slowly, making sure he watches as you slip a bit of paper under your mostly empty glass. A docking bay number, a time. That’s all he needs. You don’t stick around any longer, leave him alone in the booth as quietly as you can. All you can do now is pray that this plan works. You trust Din, even if he doesn’t hold you in the same regard - but it’s the informant you’re worried about.

The man’s hood is pushed off of his head by the wind that whips around in the empty corner of the docking bays. Only you and your ship in view, a perfect setting. The less witnesses, the better. You raise your hand to him from where you sit, perched on the loading ramp of your transport ship, to catch his attention and his pace picks up just a little. He doesn’t get far.

Din appears silently, stealthily, behind his mark in the waning sunlight. You’re not even sure where he could have been hiding, but the confidence is rolling off of him in waves. You can feel it even at your distance. This is what he was trained to do, what he was raised for. It’s a glimpse of the man you knew at Ran’s station. The man you, against all your better judgement, fell for. It looks fucking good on him. 

You can’t help but study the hard outline of his arm, tense in his suit as you commit it to memory, when he brings the butt of his blaster down hard on the bounty’s head. Unconscious in one swing, you shouldn’t find it as attractive as you do. Din doesn’t make a sound when he hauls the fully grown man over his shoulder, lifting him apparently effortlessly and carrying him off to wherever he’s stowed his own ship. You let yourself wonder if he still uses the Razor Crest after all these years, or if he sold it on. You wouldn’t blame him for it. No beacon, ample cargo space, quick as all hell - it’s a valuable ship, especially the way times have gone. You concentrate on the maths, calculating exactly how much the rust bucket would be worth nowadays, in a fruitless effort to calm your suddenly thundering pulse. But then he’s rounding the corner again, strides confident, and aimed straight towards you. All hunter, all Mandalorian. It’s hot.

“You get what you needed?” He asks as he steps onto the loading ramp, standing above you in the quickly dying sunlight. It’s a weighted question, but you nod even though only half of the answer is yes. There’s something else screaming for attention, something deep inside of you is pulled taught with need, on the verge of snapping altogether. You wonder if he feels it too. 

“Did you find your people?” You ask in kind as you get to your feet slowly, as he takes another step towards you, backs you further into the belly of the ship. It’s all so familiar, even if it’s only ever played out once before. The memory is vivid and faded at the same time. Worn from the amount of times it’s been relived. He’s taken you a hundred times in your mind since, if you’re speaking for yourself. You wonder if he’s done the same on late nights, sitting for hours in hyperspace, remembering . It’s a dangerous game.

He nods slowly, obviously stalling before he makes his decision. It’s a big one, bigger than before, you’re sure of it. If he’s found his people, you don’t think you can convince him to part with his helmet again. And you really, really , need him to kiss you right now. 

“And the Rebellion?”

“They’ll be satisfied.” Your reply is soft, the datastick secured safely in your jacket pocket. You only realise you’ve hit the panel on the wall when the boarding ramp starts to raise. With the sun already set and the sky quickly darkening, you won’t be able to see an inch in front of your face once it closes.

“Yeah? Good.”

And then the ramp locks up, and he’s on you. Breathlessly, desperately , his helmet hits the floor with a thunderous clang but he doesn’t even break away from you to try and see where it landed. Your ankle knocks against the cool metal of it as Din swallows you whole. Inhaling your every breath, stripping the both of you until there’s no more barriers. No worn leather on your shoulders, no cold Beskar on his chest. Just you and him, skin to skin, pressed so close together that nothing in the galaxy could pull you apart. His lips don’t leave yours once as he manoeuvres you through the small space. 

There’s something in this kiss, something profoundly different to the last time. Your memory is hazy and maybe a little rose tinted, but you’re sure he was softer. This is all tongue and teeth and hands, but you don’t mind. You like it. You like the way he’s taken control and backed you up towards the pull out bunk. It’s not meant for any more than short naps in lightspeed, and somewhere in the back of your mind you wonder if you’ll break it, but then he moves from your lips to your neck and you can’t find it in yourself to care. You hope you��do .

You take his lead and let yourself get lost in him completely. Every touch, every kiss, every lick, has you begging him. For what, you’re not sure. You just need more. Of him. Of his skin under your hands and his moans in your ears and his taste on your tongue. You’re not sure you’ve ever needed anything as desperately as you need him to take you. Claim you. Maybe it’s a little primitive, but you can’t stop thinking about the way he took the bounty. One fell swoop of his arm and the man was down. Only Din could do something like that, only a warrior from a league of warriors. Their stories are legend, and you have one panting into your mouth. It’s delicious.

God above, he wants to drown in you. In everything, anything, you’ll give him. Nothing is worth being denied this - denied you. He licks a hot stripe up your throat and revels in your choked gasp, he could give it all up if it meant he would hear that for the rest of time. He won’t though, he knows that, somewhere in his heart of hearts. You have loyalties and he has loyalties and none of them are to each other, not really. Maybe that’s why he holds you a little tighter than before. Because the last time was just that, or at least you’d both been under the impression that it was. A chance meeting, an accident. He’s not foolish enough to believe in accidents and coincidence anymore. 

Din really thought he was ready, to throw himself back into the covert, to give them everything. And he is. But he doesn’t want to share this part of him with anybody but you. In every crowd he is the exception, he is the stand out. Faceless. Nameless. Mandalorian. But you know his name, you know him. You know how to anticipate his movements in a fight, you know how best to talk him down after a bad job. You know him. Din Djarin has not been known for a very long time. Not until you, not until now. You’re barely coming down, bodies panting, sweating, but still wanting. You find an anchor in his hair as he kisses down your body to disappear between your thighs again to clean up the mess of both of you.

“Just stay until I’m asleep, please?” You whisper afterwards, voice hoarse. Din picks his head up from where he’s buried it into your neck, his body half covering your own, the warm weight of him shielding you from the chill of the night. He pulls the old blanket at the foot of the bed up and around you both. Promises you. And he does, he can give you that much. 

Din wakes just before sunrise, the world outside of the cockpit that kind of grey-blue that only seems to exist right before dawn. You’ve shifted in your sleep curling into his chest almost completely, knees drawn up tight against your body. He slips the pillow he was resting on into your arms in his place when he eases himself from the scratchy sheet. Watching the way you inhale his smell from it, curling around it with a contented sigh, is almost enough to convince him to stay. Almost. But he has bounties and you have a mission and soon enough real life will have to take over. Still, he allows himself this quiet moment to pretend, before he has to turn back into who he really is.

He didn’t dress you this time.

You wake up cold and alone and even though you knew this would happen, it still makes your heart ache somewhere deep in your chest. A hollow nothing sits somewhere just underneath it, as per usual. But the pillow you’ve wrapped yourself around smells like he does. You scrabble around in the sheets until you find the rough crochet of your blanket, lifting the wool to your nose and smelling nothing but Din. You wonder if the flight back to Yavin IV might feel a little lighter now, it doesn’t.

“Where’s the informant?” Draven asks the question before you even get a chance to hand over the stick.

“Got jumped by a bounty hunter.” You reply calmly, fishing around in the pocket of your jacket for the datastick. You’re on time, with the intel. He can’t complain.

“And you couldn’t handle a bounty-”

“A Mandalorian bounty hunter. I wasn’t about to get in the middle of that.”

General Draven regards you carefully from his seat as you hand the drive over, you know he suspects something . But it’s not his place to decide how you do your job, only that it gets done. A responsibility that won’t fall to him come the morning. He stands when the door behind you slides open, gestures to his now empty seat, and makes his way across the command room to glare at a chart. You’re expecting anyone except the man who takes his place in front of you.

“Congratulations Lieutenant.” Bail Organa smiles, and you’re sure there’s protocol buried somewhere in your brain for how you should react. Do you salute? You’re not sure, you’re stuck on Lieutenant still.

“Sir, I don’t - I don’t rank.” You’re pretty certain that it’s against the rules to flat out tell him he’s wrong. Your polite rebuttal should correct him, but it only makes his grin wider.

“The paperwork was submitted before you left,” He pulls a datapad from his pocket and reads, “ ‘A good spy, but shines in the air.’ Lieutenant Bey made a compelling argument, that’s where we need you. You’ll meet with Green Squadron first thing in the morning.” He leans back in the chair to watch you try and reign in the buzzing in your veins. You’re so preoccupied with trying to keep your feet on the ground that you almost miss your squadron assignment. As if they’d put you anywhere else.

“Green?”

“We can always reassign you, I do have that power.”

“No! I -” You’re only a little bit embarrassed about the eyes you draw with your outburst, “Thank you, sir.”

You should absolutely apologise for interrupting, but you’re sure that the only sound you’ll be able to make is an excited squeal. This is it . This is what you’ve worked so hard for, it feels like your whole life has been leading up to the moment Senator Bail Organa slides the Lieutenant badge across the table.

“You remind me of my daughter,” He muses as you stare at it in awe, “Fourteen years old, and already far too big for any room. Make her proud, Lieutenant. You’re dismissed.”

You leave with the new stripes stuck proudly to your flight suit and a blinding grin, desperate to find Shara and tell her the news. Even though she probably already knows, you want to be the one to share it with her. You spot her tucked in the front row of a small crowd around a transport, scruffy and exhausted looking soldiers piling out every which way. Until one man looks up to search the welcoming party, a face you recognise from the fuzzy holo she’d shown you late one night.

Your smile only grows when Shara throws herself into Kes’ arms, their happiness palpable as they cling to each other. And you’re happy. Really, you are. It’s just that watching them revel in one another’s company makes somewhere deep in your chest ache. Like there’s something missing.

i don't have access to my old taglist forms anymore so feel free to message or drop me an ask if you want to be tagged in future :)

[imagine-that-one-thing]

Chapter 5 "Sanity Slipping"

Word count: 5,569

Harry X Anastasia || Royal Fanfic

Master Link || Chat with me

•••

The media has been camped outside the palace gates, waiting for anything juicy to report on. Unfortunately, they haven't been very kind to me online. I did make headlines, but not in the way my father had hoped. People are talking about 'The Monarch being in the hands of an unsteady Queen.'

The media's relentless assault paints me as unfit, unstable, and unreliable, their words carving deep wounds in my already fragile sense of self. If only they knew the truth behind their own painted words. Last night's events epitomize the distorted narrative they weave, twisting reality to fit their preconceived notions. Is it twisted?

Am I truly unstable? The question haunts me, gnawing at the edges of my consciousness as doubts creep in like tendrils of smoke, obscuring the clarity of my own judgment. I find myself questioning not only my character but also my mental state, wondering if their relentless scrutiny has eroded the very foundation of who I am and what I’m supposed to be.

Last night, in a moment of vulnerability, I almost succumbed to the overwhelming tide of emotions that threaten to engulf me, nearly begging my security guard to stay by my side, to shield me from the relentless onslaught of my own demons. And in that same breath, I almost pleaded with him to cast aside the veil of secrecy that shrouds our relationship, to allow us the freedom to express ourselves openly and authentically.

But as the weight of their accusations bears down upon me, I realize that their portrayal of me as unstable is not a reflection of reality but rather a projection of their own fears of the monarchy and the prior government they have created. I am not unfit to be Queen. I am not unstable. I am simply human, navigating the treacherous waters of power and politics with as much grace and dignity as I can muster. Above all else, I am trying, I’m running this rat race to the best of my ability and they don’t even know half of the story.

I'm hoping my father will be able to handle the situation and put a stop to all the negative press. Unfortunately, my father announced an unknown relationship at a garden party and our media team released a story to the publishers. Even though names were never mentioned, it was speculated through many sources with multiple names. I’m a train wreck in the eyes of the media.

Being inside the palace with my father at this time is awful for everybody, the staff are attempting to discover ways to hide out and keep away from him. He is on a warpath. Two people have been fired and my mother has had to overrule him and hire back the staff. My mother tends to do her own thing and stay out of his way, but the last few days she has been handling things and challenging him. Last night I heard her arguing with him about some of his decisions that are unknown to me. I couldn’t hear the whole conversation.

He went behind my back and painted a misleading picture for the media to dwell in, and now that his picture has streaks running through it, he wants to be deranged. My life should be private, instead, my life is a matter of privileged information for anyone who works for the media.

I hear the sound of rustling grass and a few hushed coughs. Turning around, I see Harry walking towards me wearing a light jacket. "I'm sorry for being late," he apologizes as he approaches me. Lately, I seem to be hearing apologies from him more frequently. I am not sure why he is apologising, he said he was leaving for a few days.

I smile and shake my head, "No worries," I reassure him. I notice the dark circles under his eyes and his slightly dishevelled hair, but it doesn't look bad. "Are you okay?"

Harry nods, "Just exhausted. My flight was delayed," he admits, clearing his throat.

“I thought you were leaving for a few days?”

Harry nods his head, "Something told me to come back."

I softly smile to myself, a sense of happiness fluttering through me like a spark just ignited inside of me. “I didn’t intend for you to come home early.”

Harry hums and steps closer, his lips pressing to my forehead, “Sometimes, I know better.”... “I'm surprised to have found you here.”

“I’m procrastinating. I have a meeting with a parliament official. Can you give me a reason not to attend?” I softly question, and Harry sighs.

Harry shakes his head, “I’m not allowed to interfere with that.”

“I don’t want to have this meeting and deal with it… what kind of mood is he in?” I softly question, hoping for a positive answer but aware of what I’m going to receive.

Harry lifts his shoulders into a shrug, his lips pursed into a straight line. “Let me guess, you don’t want to overstep and give me an answer?” I ask, assuming Harry’s lack of words has a reason.

“He’s fine with me, we smoked cigars before I left. And he offered to pick me up from the airport.” Harry informs me with a raspy voice, stopping for a moment to clear his throat, “The king is pissed off in general, especially with you not cooperating with his plans.” Harry's voice is dry and dull, there’s a struggle in his tone as he continues to speak.

“I’m walking into the lion's den, great.”

“Mhm,” he hums. He is aware the King is pissed with me and my lack of decisions. I am making my father’s life hard, but it’s better than making my own miserable. “Care to talk about last night?”

“No,” I bluntly respond. I have no desire to relive my self pity and whirlwind of emotions. I’d much rather forget that my emotions are a prominent thing. I’d like to formally turn them off for a few moments.

Harry nods his head, respecting my response, “I have to go. I’ll try and find you later.”

“Walk me back to the Palace?” I offer, watching as Harry sighs before he nods his head and we begin our ascend back up towards the Palace.

As we walked to the Palace, the only sounds were those from the surroundings. Harry seemed to want to stay silent, and I respected his choice. I didn't have much to say as I prepare for my upcoming meeting.

Harry closes the Palace doors behind me, the two of us taking a few steps towards the meeting hall. Harry takes a breath, “Good luck, Anastasia,” Harry softly smiles.

“You’re losing your voice,” I sigh, feeling sympathetic. He nods his head and gives me a small smile before opening the double doors to the meeting room, forcing me to take a stride and step into the lion's den. My Father and a few members rise, all glaring at me as I swallow hard. Oh, Fuck.

As the heavy doors close behind me, I turn around, bleakly hoping Harry opens the doors and saves me from this mess, but I know better. I turn back towards the crowd and I am greeted with a chilly reception and hostile glares. "I believe a curtsy is in order," I suggest, noticing the lack of polite greetings. I refuse to be intimidated by their political positions. Deep down, I want to crawl into a hole and never return to see the daylight with them again.

My father lets out a sigh and gestures towards the members, "She's correct, please curtsy."

The members of parliament comply with my father's request, but it's evident that their actions are not out of respect for me.

The Prime Minister speaks up, "Does she have to be here? You can’t trust everybody.”

"I have to ask, do you need to be here?" I inquire. "I understand that the king values his relationship with the Prime Minister due to constitutional reasons, but to me, your presence isn't necessary or important, Pippa."

"Anastasia," my father interjects.

"I mean, the king has the right to appoint and meet with the Prime Minister on Thursdays, but today isn't Thursday. So, I don't see why you need to be here," I explain.

Pippa chuckles and shakes her head, leaning against my father's desk. "Come on, you two, let's not argue," my father intervenes. "I called this meeting to discuss some political views that have been brought to my attention."

I furrow my brow and cross my arms, showing disinterest in discussing political matters in this particular setting. "As a constitutional monarch, Her Majesty must remain politically neutral. I won't be participating."

"Anna, this is a good opportunity for you to learn about these political issues and the people involved," someone, whom I do not know his name, insists.

"She isn't Her Majesty. I don't believe she should be present," Pippa interjects, wanting me out of the meeting. She wants me exiled for some reason. It’s evident. “She’s irrelevant.”

I shake my head, "I hold a higher title than you," I remind her.

My Father sighs, "Anna, you will become Queen and will need to attend these meetings with parliament officials. You need to be able to virulently support your government and speak with them."

"I cannot speak on political matters, but as Queen, my Prime Minister will handle the political arena. Pippa will not be my prime minister during my reign whenever that may be."

I’d rather lay down on a bed of nails then to have Pippa as my right hand and prime minister.

"Oh, you haven't informed her yet?" Pippa grins. "My dear child, I'm contracted in. You're stuck with me if you ever become Queen. I'd hate to see that day. If only the succession to the monarchy wasn’t altered, huh?"

I turn to my father and raise an eyebrow, unsure how the current Prime Minister can remain in office if the crown is passed on to me.

“What do you mean by the monarchy being altered?” I instantly question. “I will clear the seats, and order new parliament officials. It’s a strategic dissolution I will start-.”

My father cuts me off and changes the topic. "Our discussion topic is Assenting to Bills passed by Parliament, on the advice of Ministers. Please take a seat and listen," my father gestures to the long table, inviting me to sit down. I reluctantly take a seat across from Pippa, who seems to be opposed to my inheritance of the crown, just as I am opposed to her serving as my Prime Minister due to her condescending demeanour.

I have yet to understand why my father is determined to pass down the crown to me so suddenly without a clear reason. The household staff has their theories, one of which is that he wants to relinquish his royal duties to me. However, I do not believe this to be the case. I am certain there must be a solid foundation for his decision, as only one British monarch has ever willingly abdicated the throne. My father is unlikely to do the same unless there is a compelling reason. He may grant me the title of Princess Regent, enabling me to perform his official duties, while he retains his title as His Majesty the King. However, there are several possible reasons why he may choose to pass down the crown and force me to marry a prince, such as wanting to see me fail as Queen or simply having other motives.

There is one rumor swirling that he is stepping down because he has a mistress and he doesn’t want it to be leaked to the public.

Then there’s Political Pressure: There are whispers of political pressure or scandal brewing behind the scenes, leading the king to abdicate in order to avoid potential fallout or controversy. This rumour is the most compelling so far, I’m not sure what scandal could be brewing, I’m sure I’ll find out soon enough.

And my most favourite and least convincing rumor is the desire for Modernization: Some may suggest that the king is embracing a more progressive approach to monarchy, viewing me as better suited to usher in much-needed reforms and modernization efforts. I call bullshit, the man is determined to follow every old age rule in the fucking book.

Each of these rumors adds layers of intrigue and complexity to the unknown, fueling speculation and uncertainty about the king's next power move.

After the meeting ends, I bid everyone goodbye and feel relieved that it's finally over. As I stand up, my father's voice startles me. "You should learn to behave more like a Queen," he advises.

"But I don't aspire to become a Queen. I don't want to deal with the criticism and scrutiny," I reply.

"You don't have a choice," he responds firmly.

“And that’s just the fucking problem. This monarch is controlling my life. It’s one thing to force me to be Queen without a say, but it’s another to force me to be with a Prince and lay my life down for all the members of parliament and this kingdom.”

My father's jaw clenches and his eyes narrow down on me, “This is part of your legacy. I’ve built this monarch from the ground up, I’m not letting it fall.”

“And I’ll tear it down to the bottom if you force this upon me.”

“Don’t you fucking dare threaten that,” my father raises his voice, “Do not become a monstrosity to this monarch, to this family.” He yells, shaking his head and stepping away from me. “I am not the villain in this story like you portray me to be.”

I shake my head, “I don’t portray you to be the villain, you do that yourself. You’re sounding like your brother.”

“Leave. I have to speak to security,” he mutters, pointing to the doors.

I obey my orders and proceed towards the doors, pushing them open and slamming them shut behind me. I spot Harry approaching and greet him with a smile, but he struggles to reciprocate. His eyes are tired and dark, suggesting he hasn't slept in a while. I then hear my father calling my name, causing me to let out a deep sigh.

“I’m never going to hear the fucking end. He’s in a bad mood by the way,” I inform Harry and he nods.

As I approach the imposing doors, their weight matches the heaviness weighing upon my heart and mind. Each creak of the hinges echoes the burden I carry and the screams I hide, a tangible reminder of the weight of the world resting upon me.

With a heavy sigh, I glance at Harry, his expression mirroring the solemnity of the moment. There's a fleeting exchange of understanding between us, unspoken words hanging in the air like a glass veil of silence. He longs to offer comfort, to ease the weight of my worries, but he knows the limitations of his role, the boundaries that separate us as Princess and security.

I push the heavy doors open, wishing it was as easy to push these emotions as it is to push these doors open aggressively.

“You know what? I’m stripping you of your title if you can’t take things seriously.”

I lift my shoulders into a shrug and lean against the wall, “You’d be doing me a favour.”

I don’t want to gradually go down the rabbit hole of self-destruction because of a monarch who relies on me when I’m not even Queen— we all know I don’t want this.

As much as I desire to relish in the thought of being stripped of my title and not under the thumb of the royal family and monarch, I know he won’t do it. I’m the only person to take over this monarch. There’s nobody besides me unless we get down to the nitty-gritty and find a long-lost cousin. Almost every living English citizen is somehow a descendant of an early monarch.

“The king has no legal authority to alter the succession to the throne. That would require an Act of Parliament.”

“We will see about that Act of Parliament. Been done before,” the king sneers.

“And unless there's a secret love child, I’m the only one who is eligible for the crown,” I remind my father of how this is meant to work. “Harry, don’t you think my Father is being a dick by threatening to take away the title to the only person who can take over the damn monarchy?”

Harry shakes his head, glaring towards me disapprovingly, "I don't think we should discuss this. He does have a say in my wage,” Harry voices his opinion with a raspy tone, still struggling to speak.

“Smart man,” the king comments, “Harry, I need you to extend your shift and end at three in the morning, I have a few things I need you to do.”

“Sir, I can’t,” Harry breathes out, “Matthew just took me off all services.” He’s struggling with every word he forces out.

My father isn’t pleased, but he surprisingly doesn’t seem mad, which is odd. “Can you use the last of your words to tell me when you planned to tell me you’re fucking my daughter?”

I widen my eyes and swallow hard, blinking back and forth between the two men standing before me. Despite the tense moment and sudden surprise, I can't help but let out a chuckle, which earns me glares from both of them. Fuck.

With a straight face, Harry responds, “Your Highness, I’m not fucking your daughter.”

A bold move to lie to the King of England.

“Father,” I begin, “it is not nice to accuse someone of such an act when they can’t fully defend themselves, he can barely speak.” I can’t conceal the smirk on my face. This is entertaining.

“I want to talk to you both about letters patent.”

“Do these letters patent involve abolishing the monarchy?” I question with a grin, causing my father to side-eye me. “Because I do not want to deal with Pippa as a prime minister.”

“How do you deal with her?” He asks Harry.

Harry lifts his shoulders into a shrug, “I’m not sure,” he responds with a slight smile, “A lot of patience.”

“At least you have the patience,” the king mutters. “We can’t abolish. You know how it works. It would take legislation, an act of Parliament, and signed by the Sovereign to end the monarchy. We are not abolishing what so many past royals have worked for.” … “You will take the throne.”

“We are one of the eighth-longest monarchies in the world, it’s time to give it a rest. Let it go.”

“Anna, hear him out,” Harry grasps my attention, gesturing to my father.

I glare at Harry and cross my arms over my chest as I lean on my father's desk, “Excuse me?”

“Ah, fuck,” Harry mutters, looking down before looking back towards my Father, “May I leave? Why am I here?”

My Father chuckles, “Scared?”

Harry shakes his head, “I don’t like dealing with her when she is on a warpath and I just pissed her off,” Harry comments, “As you can see, she is glaring at me as if she would like to kill me.”

He has a valid point. Perhaps he isn’t as stupid as his last comments painted him to be.

My Father chuckles before recomposing himself. “Do you know what letters patent are?”

“Yes, gives a person an exclusive right, privilege, title, or office,” Harry nods, “What does this have to do with me?”

“It doesn’t,” I bitterly interject, not amused with Harry or my father appearing to team up against me. “Are there any other fun facts about these letters you’d like to contribute, Harry?”

“They were written in Latin until 1733,” Harry responds with a dry voice, “I might just be part of a security team but I am well educated, Your Highness,” Harry looks towards me, causing me to bite the side of my cheek and stare at him. I can’t tell if I’m pissed off with his comments or mildly turned on. “Is there anything you’d like to add?”

“Grants of land or rights from the monarch to a private individual were made by letters patent. Which means unless someone is granting me the right to leave this fucking monarch, I believe this conversation is over.”

Harry rolls his eyes, “I’m still not sure what I have to do with this, sir.” Looking back towards the King.

“The bloodline ends with Anastasia, if anything happens to her, the Monarchy crumbles, there are letters patent that pertain to you both,” My father looks towards Harry.

“If the bloodline ends with me, kill me now so we can end it.” I mutter, pushing off the desk and walking around Harry, tapping on his shoulder, “Will you, dear sir, put me out of my misery?”

Harry rolls his eyes, “We are going to get anywhere with this conversation.” Harry gestures towards me.

My father hums, “She’s too high-strung for me to handle right now.” My father shakes his head as he sighs, “Anna, letters patent show that you have to get married before taking the crown, if you don’t, the monarchy is at risk of falling into the hands of the wrong people.” … “It doesn’t matter to whom, you have to be married otherwise it crumbles.”

“Who are these people?” I ask. I’m genuinely curious, maybe they should have the monarchy.

“It’s not for you to worry about. You are the last remaining heir, for the monarchy to stay in safekeeping, you need to rule with a King.”

I shake my head. “I do not want this.” …. “Please, just abolish it.”

“You can both go,” my father sighs, “I’ll discuss more with you later, Harry,” my father dismisses us.

Harry and I leave the room, and I feel anxious as my heart beats fast. I follow him down a long hallway, my heels clicking on the marble tiles. I’m pissed, I’m anxious and I’m confused all in one.

As Harry pulls me into a hidden door, a rush of excitement courses through me, mingled with a hint of apprehension. The passage is dimly lit, the flickering lights casting dancing shadows along the stone walls. The air is cool and musty, carrying with it the scent of age and secrecy. I don’t use the secret doors very often, when I do, it’s usually with Harry.

The narrow corridor winds its way through the entirety of the palace, its walls adorned with faded tapestries and ancient portraits, their eyes following our every move with silent curiosity. At night, it’s creepy and unsettling, during the day, it isn’t too bad.

The stone floor is worn smooth by centuries of footsteps, its eerie to know that many people have walked these hidden paths.

The air feels dense, suffocating almost, as Harry sighs, the sound echoing in the heavy silence between us. His fingers run through his hair in an agitated gesture, and I can sense the weight of his gaze on me, heavy and stressed.

As the moments pass, the weight of our unspoken truths threatens to crush me, the heaviness of the mood between us becoming unbearable. But still, I can't bring myself to speak, to acknowledge the elephant in the room that looms over us like a specter.

In the quiet intensity of our shared gaze, I can't help but wonder if our unspoken desires will forever remain just that—unspoken. I love him, and I want nothing more than to be with him in blissful harmony.

In the stillness that envelops us, I feel the unspoken love for him pressing against my chest walls, threatening to burst forth like a dammed river begging for release. His presence fills me with a warmth that defies the chill of the heavy world around me in a constant battle, and in these moments, I realize that I want nothing more than to weave our lives together in a beautiful tapestry of shared dreams, whispered promises and unconditional love that is never questioned nor chased.

Yet, I hesitate to speak the words that linger on the tip of my tongue, afraid of the convergences that comes with laying bare my heart's deepest desires. Instead, I find solace in the quiet intensity of our shared gaze, silently hoping that he can sense the longing that pulses beneath my surface.

I try to lighten the mood by chuckling and saying, "Looks like the secret's out." However, Harry continues to glare at me, and I don't understand why.

“He knows. Letters patent?”

“He doesn’t,” I respond, “He is testing you and you passed. If you’re that scared we can always run away to Greece.”

I’ll run away anywhere with him, to the end of the world if it means being happy and in solitude.

“I’m not amused. I would like to know what letters patent have to do with me.”

I'd like to say he’s trying to logically process what I’m saying. There's a small part of me that wants to tell him I’m not joking, but we can't just run off together and fall off the grid. My father would have everyone looking for us and would presumably attempt to kill Harry with his bare hands for running off with me.

Would we manage to live life together by the rules of the monarch?

“I-I,” I begin, struggling to find the words. I truly don’t know what Harry has to do with letters patent. “I don’t know,” I sigh. “I don’t have the answers when it comes to this life.”

“Do you not think we should find out?” Harry asks.

I shake my head. Ignorance is bliss. Right now, I need bliss.

***

The warm breeze whistles through my hair and the sound of the water hitting the banks of the lake becomes music to my ears. The Lake at Buckingham Palace is a large man-made lake located in the gardens of Buckingham Palace. It was created in the early 17th century as part of the gardens of the palace and is a place I don’t settle at often. It’s hard to take in the beautiful scenery with it being open to the public on most summer days. Today, it has finally been closed to the public, giving me a sweet sentiment.

It has been a while since I have had the opportunity to stand by the lake without a care in the world, and without having to look over my shoulder to make sure nobody is taking pictures. For the first time in quite a long time, I have a sense of being normal. The grass nestles between my toes, I take a deep breath of the fresh air as I tilt my head to the side and glance over at Harry who has belatedly joined me after he left me earlier today after our letters parent discussion with the King.

A smile spreads across his pink lips and he stares at me with awe in his eyes.

Harry takes my hand and we wander closer to the water's edge. I let out a heavy breath, more so relieved and belatedly, happy. "I'd give anything to be able to feel like this more."

"Feel like what?" Harry questions, glancing around as an arm subtly drapes around my waist.

I grin to myself, taking note of the birds soaring high over the water, "Like a bird," I chuckle to myself, well aware my description is not ordinary, then again, I'm not ordinary either, "Free and happy," I respond. "There's no restraints, no duties, no photographers, and I didn't have any security until now, I could run into the lake with my clothes on and nobody would give a damn," I gladly smile.

“Well, you were supposed to have security,” Harry coughs, and I shrug my shoulders. Harry smirks and lets go of my hand, "Well, go on." Harry gestures towards the water, "By all means, enter the water with your clothes on, be a bird."

I shake my head, "Harry, join me."

Harry shakes his head, "Not a chance in hell, love. I’m already sick, not making it worse." Harry chuckles, “You’re the only crazy one who would happily jump in.”

I shrug my shoulders as I look down at the water. "Do you think I could've been a bird?"

"Oh, god. No. Don't—" Harry begins with a heavy sigh.

"Say it! Say I'm a bird," I insist, well aware of what I'm doing.

Harry brings his bottom lip between his teeth and he glances around.

"Anastasia, I’m losing my voice."

"Say I'm a bird!"

"That would mean admitting I've watched a romantic movie." Harry shakes his head, watching me as I move away from him with a smile.

I spin around, allowing my flowy white dress to dance around me. I glance over my shoulder and see Harry shuffling closer, his hands now in his pockets.

My feet dance at the edge of the bank, thoroughly relishing the freedom, "Tell me."

"Tell you, what?" Harry questions, stepping closer to me. “That you’re about to fall in?”

"Quote my favourite movie."

Harry rolls his eyes playfully, "I'd never do such a thing."

I gasp, stepping away from him with a laugh escaping my lips, "Anna," Harry laughs, reaching out and wrapping his hand around my wrist, causing me to laugh louder as I playfully attempt to pull away from him. Harry tenderly tugs on me and forces me to face him, "If you're a bird, I'm a bird," Harry recites the line and I draw my hair away from my face, still giggling like a schoolgirl. I beam at Harry and he smiles back at me, his eyes bright and full of more love than I could ever imagine. "If you're a bird, I'm a bird. Anastasia,” his voice is raspy but he continues, “I'll be anything you need me to be, and I'll go anywhere I need to go. I'd walk to the end of the earth if it meant being with you."

My heart pounds in my chest like a wild drum, the rhythm echoing against my body. Before I can even comprehend the words forming on my lips, they tumble out in a rush, spurred on by the raw intensity of my emotions.

"Then marry me," I blurt out, the words hanging in the air between us, my deepest desires no longer containing themselves inside me. I've laid bare the very essence of my soul for him to see— something I thought I’d never do— something I had no intentions to do, it just happened.

Despite the unknown and being scared of what I have just opened, I know with absolute certainty that I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my days by his side, bound together in a union of love. My father did mention earlier it didn’t matter who I married, as long as I married before the crown reached me.

I hold my breath, waiting his response, my heart still racing. And in the quiet depths of his gaze, I find myself hoping against hope that he will say yes, that he will choose me, every day, every time, against all odds, it’ll be me. Selfishly, I want it to be me and him in the end, no matter whether this monarchy is standing or not.

Harry blinks at me a few times, seemingly shocked by the request and sudden statement. “Anna, I-I can’t,” Harry shakes his head and I pull away from him. “No, wait,” he breathes, reaching out for my hand but I retract it from him and begin to walk away.

I pinned my heart to my sleeve for a brief moment and became overwashed with nothing but a bitter rejection that I’d have rather ignored. I feel utterly stupid and ashamed.

I feel his fingers wrap around my arm and gently stop me from moving forward. I spin around and press my hands to his chest, pushing him away. “Anna, hear me out.”

He’s relentless.

I shake my head. I don’t want to hear him out.“What? What could you possibly say? You’ve said all I’ve needed to hear.”

Harry takes a deep breath, biting his lip before speaking.“If I marry you, it changes the entire system of this monarch, it changes everything, are you aware?”

“I asked a simple question between me and you. Not a question between me, you and the monarchy.” I respond.

Harry sighs and rubs his eyes tiredly while his phone begins to ring, he glances down at the caller ID, “Can we finish this later?”

“No,” I shake my head, walking away from him while he answers his phone call.

Wearing my heart on my sleeve and allowing myself to let my guard down is something I wish I had never done. I never expected to fall in love with Harry, I never expected us to get to the point of being this serious. At one point, I thought it was just a summer fling, but now here I am, wearing my heart on my sleeve and asking him to marry me. I am insane.

[echantedtoon]

Waning Obsession(Yandere Kokushibo x Reader) Ch6 To Which The Emotions Uncoil

(This will mostly be from Kokushibo's P.O.V. and spand over about a month.

EDIT: Spelling errors are corrected!)

The sounds of the peaceful town was delightful to his ears. After dealing with the annoyance of his city and dealing with months of death littered battle fields, a place like this was perfect for a break in the schedules. Like the last time he came to this town he settled down in the cabin in the woods near the exit of the village. The place like Y/n said was indeed abandoned. No one had lived in it for quite some time judging by all the dust and cobwebs settled into the walls. But that's fine. The home was still in decent shape and it sheltered him from the weather outside. So it would suffice. He's had worse living conditions before.

Things were going well.

His mother would be pleased with her gifts. Yoriichi would no doubt be married like he wanted, after all he already had their mother's blessing and even if their father disagreed with the entire situation, he had a single soft place for his wife. As long as she was so ill and fragile, their father wouldn't dare argue with anything that could possibly cause her stress. So more likely than not, Yoriichi would be able to fulfill his dreams. The peace talks although delayed looked promising and once his father was able to set a time to talk, perhaps this long useless war would finally end. News was that the head of the Kibutsuji Clan was ill and this might not survive until the end of this year which would leave his son, Muzan if he remembered the name right, the one who would take over. Rumor also had it that they were also tired of fighting so perhaps it will also finally stop.

Then he could finally go home for some well deserved rest.

Then perhaps he could finally focus on the duties he's been neglecting for so long. Being ready to take his father's place in the future. Taking over the care of his mother since his brother hasn't been listening to the doctors and making her rest. Finally get his territory back in order. Do something about the resource issue. Build his troops back up to standards.

But most importantly become married.

His prospective marriage was put to the side as soon as this war started three years ago now. Only a small handful of noble women and women whom his father considered to be high enough status had been brought to him (four to be exact) and none of the four women were anything he found any interest in. The first had been rather beautiful, but she had been rather vain and spoiled only ogling him and not so subtly seducing him or trying to just for his status. He dismissed her immediately. They were terrible traits in a wife, and a mother. The next two barely spoke at all and all they did was cower before him. Fear was bad traits to pass down to his heirs and he was tired of them not looking his in the eyes as he spoke. The fourth was actually not too bad. Nice and polite and managed to at least look at him when he spoke...but she was too naive. She literally didn't even get the fact he was a demon until he literally pointed it out to her. Ugh. He still remembered the moment she asked him.

"Why do you have six eyes? Is it a new medical condition?"

".... I'm a demon."

"No. Really?! I never would've known! You hide it so well!"

"....."

His children were absolutely NOT going to have...THAT as a mother. He was supposed to meet another woman but shortly after his land was overtaken in the far east where most of the valuable resources like meats and weaponry came from. It was almost a blow to their entire territory.. Almost. But he'd soon be meeting them again once this war ended. He'd find a woman who'd bring dignity and pass down strong traits to his children. Someone-

Someone who could be firm but calm. Doesn't treat him like a lesser being because of a single difference. Someone who worked hard and someone who had turquoise...eyes..

....oh ....

OH NO-

He was always quick to vanquish those thoughts from his mind. The sparking turquoise. He was only fascinated by the color. It was a rare color. One he hadn't seen before on anyone else. Man or woman. He just needed to get his head straight and focus on what was important. Which was his mother and then getting back to his post, which meant that he couldn't let obstacles get in his way. The girl needed to work. Her wench of a boss was in the way of delaying her work. Therefore logically the best course of action to ensure her best working pace would eliminate the obstacle in her way to eliminate the bigger obstacle in his way. Yes. That was the only reason why he threatened the old woman into treating her normally again. Surely. The old woman would think twice now before causing such headaches for her-..HIM and stop especially when he was around.

But to be sure he walked past the shop a few times to check on her the first week....HER PROGRESS. To check on her progress.

A quick peek through the window of the door they left open due to the summer warmth, had confirmed his theory. Everytime he gave a quick look, she always saw her sitting peacefully at the table with one of the six candles and a small metal pencil like tool working on carving into the wax. Her peaceful face and calm smile reassured him that everything was fine. At one visit the old bat caught sight of him looking through the door from across the street. Her face paled and as fast as her old legs could carry her, she ran for the back. Her sudden movements caught the attention of the working woman who's head turned to watch her boss flee before she then turned to peer out the door. Their eyes made contact. She smiled brightly at him and waved. ...He quickly turned his head and walked away. It'd be best if he didn't distract her from her work.

He did not bother coming by the second week. She'd be fine anyways. He'd be busying himself with training in the meantime and hunting for food. The forest nearby did have a few nice fat pheasants, and a decent fishing hole. If only the fields up east were this plentiful with food...Too bad this wasn't Tsugikuni territory. Hmm. That's a thought. He'd bring up the idea of claiming this part of land to his father later, after all there was a lot of beautiful-... BOUNTIFUL things here. It could aid their resources until they stabilized. However the home he was currently staying at would hold a surprise for him once he returned. He senses the second presence within the home's walls before he even got close enough to the the door.

Now who would be foolish enough to trespass in his temporary home?

The wild pheasant from his hunt was dropped to his feet with a thud. A hand gripping the hilt of a weapon. A woman's shriek echoed throughout the home as the door was quickly slammed open weapon aimed and raised. ... But then was lowered.

Turquoise eyes met six red and yellow ones.

"My prediction about you being troublesome proceeds itself." The long sword was slowly returned to its sheath with a small click. This woman was no threat. Even if she was very troublesome as stated before. "How do we keep meeting in the most inconvenient of ways?"

Large sparkling turquoise eyes blinked up at him from the floor. It was a woman. The same woman who was SUPPOSED to be working like he paid her to do, and yet here she was. On her knees with a scrub brush in her hands and a bucket of water next to her, near her also against the wall was a broom and a few other things too.

"What is your purpose here?"

"I-..I came to deliver a few things to you but you weren't here," she slowly spoke.

"Clearly I wasn't. What do you think you're doing?"

"I'm cleaning." She blinked at him like it should've been obvious to him.

"I can see that. Why?"

"Because I don't think it's fair for you to live in such conditions."...He slowly blinked. "This place was pretty filthy when I came inside. There wasn't anyone around so I..." Her gaze turned to the side and a hand shyly fiddled with the scrub brush in her hands. "I figured it was the least I could do after all your help. No one deserves to be forced to live in a dirty home."

The demon did not say anything but looked around the home. The cobwebs and dust was gone. What little furniture the previous owner left behind looked cleaned. And by the looks of her, she was almost done with the floor.

A sigh escaped his lips. "I did not ask you to do this."

"I know but I wanted to. No one made me. Just let me finish up and I'll show you what I brought with me."

He only sighed and reached out to pluck the pheasant back off the ground. "Very well. But next time I would like to be notified of your visit to me beforehand."

She chuckled. "Fair enough."

He sat to the side patiently watching as she finished with what she was doing before tossing the bucket of water out and then returned to him with a smile. "I'm so happy you're back! I think you'll like what I brought you." He remained silent but watched as she brought over a few things. A pillow and a semi thick blanket being the first things handed to him. "Here. I have extras. It'll be better than sleeping on the hard floor." He silently took them from her lightly surprised. "Here. I also made you some food. I figured you might be hungry."

A rather large bento box was also given to him. Upon opening it, he found a rather decent amount of cooked rice and a meat and vegetable dish he hadn't seen before but it all certainly was home made. He just..stared at all of this unsure of how to feel about it but she wasn't done gifting him things. She also gifted him some soap for use during his stay there and lastly-

"I also brought a few candles I finished."

Already? It's only been almost two full weeks yet she was done with a few? He silently continued watching as she reached into a pocket sewn into her kimono and brought out two of the candles he had requested. The other things were pushed to the side so he could slowly take the two finished ones from her soft hands. It was the blueberry scented one and the pink one that smelt like cherry blossoms. Each one had detailed work carved all around their surface. Rolling clouds floating across a blue waxy sky while their neighbor occupied Sakura flowers blooming so fiercely that he felt any moment real petals would come falling off their stems. Sparkling eyes watched anxiously as they were turned in his hands as six eyes carefully examined them.

"I-I started on a third. The design is simple so I'll quickly be done with another. ...Do you like them?"

He remained silent and still before a sigh left through his nose. "These are both acceptable." He nodded. "They'll do." She smiled brightly at him making him tighten his grip on the candles slightly. "How is your hand?" She blink. His head turned down to her hand. It was still bandaged so he couldn't tell how bad the wound was. But her eyes went even more wide as he reached out to gently grab it with surprising gentleness pulling it up to his eyes. "Is there any pain?"

Her eyes blinked before her face lit up a light pink. "Oh. It's healing W-Well." She gently pulled her hand away and he stays still.. slowly closing from the lack of warmth from her soft skin. "T-There's not really too much pain." Her eyes shyly looked away. "It just stings every so often."

"That's good. I trust you haven't had trouble from that man then?"

"Sabo?" Her pretty smile scrunched into a frown. "Thankfully no. He hasn't been around since you told him off, but it is curious. My boss seems to have changed her mind about my punishment."

"I suppose she's not stubborn enough to keep up the bluff...You should return back and finish the task I entrusted to you."

She had left soon after and he was left to stare at everything before him. The food, the sheets, the clean living space-...Is this what came with being taken cared of? Well he supposed that he was always taken cared of this way. The maids always took care of everything he needed and the cooks always provided him with food at a snap of his fingers. Or in more recent years he's resorted to hunting and forging for food during these last three years because of the war and slept wherever convenient. If he was lucky he'd be able to sleep on a soft patch of grass with a rolled up animal hide for a pillow. He never complained about it. He never saw the point of complaining, it wouldn't change a thing and only make him look like a fool. Everything was always either handed to him without question by his birth right or he had to struggle to obtain himself.

....It was unheard of for someone to choose to do this for him.

Yet...she did. She chose to cook for him. To clean for him. To care for him. He supposed it was just all out of thanks for helping her even if he did it unintentionally. The candles were placed to the side. The food smelt..good. Chopsticks were used to shove into the dish and slowly raised it too a fang filled maw before it disappeared within. It tasted..good. AMAZING. Perhaps it was only because he hadn't really had a home cooked meal for almost three years between the battlefield and home but it did taste delicious. Especially the vegetables and boiled beef. It was covered in spices and some kind of sauce he was unfamiliar with but he did enjoy it after eating plain roasted animals. ... Perhaps he should get her to cook the pheasant? No, no. She was already busy and he couldn't have anymore delays. He was already testing his father's patience with fulfilling his mother's request. A blanket was unfurled with a whoosh sounds..it was very soft and so doubt would keep someone warm. Spread onto the cleaned floor it went followed by a pillow just thrown down, and a body slowly sinking into it's soft surface. The pillow dipping to accommodate the head laid across it's surface. Six eyes stared at the ceiling free of cobwebs now. It had been so long since his body had the comfort of something soft to rest on.

It would be a nice change of pace.

Perhaps if she didn't have anything tying her down here or was married by the time the war was over, he should offer her a job as a maid in his estate. She'd certainly be a good addition to the staff. Hard working, focused, kind, caring, responsible, actually spoke to him as a person- Hmm. Or maybe she'd fit in better with the cooks? She could certainly make a good home cooked lunch. He could make her his own personal cook. Or maybe he'd make her his mother's personal maid. If she was able to care for that old wench so well then surely she'd care for his own mother better.

Or maybe...she could be his own aid.

Eyes closed banishing the thoughts from his mind. Turning his head to the left facing the empty old fireplace. He already had a few maids assigned to care for his room while he was gone to was. He didn't need another. Besides all of these were only based on a what if scenario if he actually decided to extend a job offer to her and only if she said yes. There was also plenty of other candidates that could make a better maid or cook than a woman he's only known for less than a year. There wasn't even any jobs that needed women in his estate other than a maid or cook..

Except for being a concubine.

The very thought of him having one disgusted him. He didn't see the point of having an endless amount of women annoyingly bothering him or trying to seduce him when he just wanted to get things done or have some alone time. It was too much hassle for something he didn't even need. However his father had suggested the idea of just having one for if nothing else just to bare an heir for him. He supposed it was a solution for his bloodline and would save him the hassle of finding a wife, but even so he'd need to find one that'd be a suitable mother so in the end it didn't solve anything other than he didn't have to marry her. He hadn't found any woman suitable for a concubine let alone a wife. What woman would do?

A brief picture of his ideal woman passed in his mind. A woman who smiled at him with wide sparkly turquoise eyes, draped in beautiful silks matching her beautiful soft eyes, her body adorned in the finest jewelry, her silky hair framing her gentle face, and soft lips letting giggles escape as she gave him a shy look with a smile gently holding his hand-

CRASH-

He sat up panting, heaving for air. A nearby vase was sent flying across the home making contact with the wall from a throw, leaving spiderweb cracks in the wood and clay pieces all over the once clean floor. His eyes blinked one by one as he stared at the mess, only now becoming aware that his free hand had sunk into the wooden floor splintering it. Silence sank in the longer the demon sat there slowly processing his situation and what had just happened...A slow exhale left his mouth before a hand rubbed at his face.

"Troublesome woman. AWAY WITH YOU FROM MY THOUGHTS!!"

Gods was he this starved from any real affection that his mind is tormenting himself with impossible scenarios with the first lady that showed him decency?! Sigh. Alright. First order of business after the war...Find a wife. He wouldn't allow himself to drag himself down to the level of a degenerate!! He decided to occupy his thoughts by going out and harshly training himself for the rest of the day to cleanse his thoughts.

He decided to visit her again at work about halfway through the third week. Not because he was concerned about anything, but he was genuinely curious if she had finished anymore of his mother's candles. The door was still left open considering the extremely warm summer weather, and sure enough he saw her sitting there in her usually spot but no signs of her boss anywhere. Good. A rest for the ears.

She didn't notice him standing in the doorway at first until his shadow fell over her making her pause and snap a look over her shoulder... before smiling. "Well hello! I wasn't expecting you to come here today. Are you in need of anything?"

His head slowly shook no. "No. I simply came to see your progress. The timeline you gave me is almost over."

She smiled brightly at him and gestured to two candles set to the side. "I have two others finished and a third one nearly done. If you'd like to see them, you may."

He was already reaching out for them before she even finished her sentence. She did pause though when he leaned over her to grab both in one hand, his soft bangs brushing against her cheek briefly before leaning back up to inspect the two candles set in his hand. It was the green mint smelling one and the darker blue one that smelt like his mother's violets. Vines reached out and swirled within the mint's surface blooming realistic looking leaves. Waves rolled and crashed throughout the blue ocean in his palms. Beautiful work.

A hum left the demon. "These are also acceptable. I will take them."

She smiled wider. "I'm glad you like them! I will admit, carving waves wasn't easy as I'd never done it before but I think I managed really well."

He hummed looking at the candles in his hands before glancing back to her hands. Her hand was still bandaged and it it was the peach scented candle. On it's surface was half a beautiful dove mid flight on its curved cylinder surface. This one probably wouldn't take too long for her to finish as it was a single picture instead of patterns all around it's sides. She started back onto it despite him still standing there watching. She seemed at ease despite the looming demon casting a shadow over her. Curious.

"...May I watch you work?"

She looked up at him surprised but soon smiled calmly. "Of course. I don't mind." Her eyes followed him as he slowly walked and chose to sit down to her right. He was still wearing that hat and moved his bangs to help hide his face. "Are you hungry? I made a pie earlier today."

"I do not want to interrupt your work only observe."

She was already getting up placing her tools down. "It's not a problem. Wait here and I'll be right back."

She left before he could even protest, blinking at her retreating form before a sigh escaped his throat with a shake of his head. She didn't have to and shouldn't have bothered but she did anyways. Ten minutes later she returned and placed both a warm red berry pie in front of him and a cup of hot tea with a smile.

"Here. You're probably hungry just walking around town waiting for me to finish."

"I busy myself by training constantly. Meditation also helps pass time."

He slowly picked up two chopsticks and the plate that was given to him. Hmm. Smelt good. When was the last time he had a pie? He gave it another smell, determined that it was fine to eat, and then just took the tools left to him to chop off a piece to lift to his mouth. The taste of sweet cooked berries, sugar, and the crunchiness of the crust filled his senses. All six eyes widened.

It was delicious.

His mouth despite his usual control watered as fangs chewed and swallowed.

"I hope it's alright. I haven't baked a pie in a while so it might not be as-"

She blinked as despite his usual composure and control, he dug into the delicious food. Bite after bite was had. When the sweet pie was already long disappeared into his stomach, it seemed to finally dawn on him on how rude he might've looked, he looked at her with slight embarrassment in his eyes about ready to apologize for his manners. To his surprise she was giggling holding a hand to her cheek.

"Well I never suspected someone would like my cooking that well."

"My apologies. I must've been more hungry than I realized. I'm ashamed of my rudeness-"

She waved him off. "It's alright. Eat slowly next time. You have a bit of berry on your face."

The demon blinked and raised an arm to clean off the wrong side of his mouth. The girl giggled again and just reached into her kimono pocket to pull out a napkin. He rubbed the side of his face and looked at his sleeve annoyed that nothing came off his face but paused when he felt something soft pressed against the other side of his mouth. The demon's eyes stared into turquoise ones, and he felt something stirring within his chest.

"There." He still didn't move as the plate was taken away with a smile. "If that's the case I'll get you another piece. There's plenty enough." She left again and two minutes later came back to him sipping on the tea she gave him. "Here." She said sliding the second piece in front of him.

He nodded. "I thank you. Forgive me for my behavior earlier. It shall not happen again."

"It's alright. By how fast you ate, it looks like you never had a pie before."

"I assure you I have. It has just been a while. Almost three years now."

She blinked. "That was about as long as the war lasted." Her eyes again glanced at his katana before she slowly sat down. "...Does that mean you fight in the war?"

He was quiet for a long moment before the cup was placed down and he again picked up the plate. "Yes but I don't like to discuss it with those who are not involved and who are innocent. It could only bring trouble...I would appreciate you do not tell anyone of this either."

She immediately nodded her head. It wasn't any of her business what he does and it doesn't involve her plus it wasn't her place to pry into his private life. They were acquaintances at best, and customer and employee first. Her hands silently picked up the candle again. Silence resumed for a while as he silently ate and she carved away on the candle. Eventually he took a moment to look at her.

"The owner is not here. Where is she?'

"My boss went to help her daughter-in-law with cleaning out her son's house today. So it's just me and you right now."

"Hmm. And has THAT man returned to bother you at all?"

"You mean Sabo?" His grip slightly hardened on the chopsticks. "No. He hasn't been back since you told him off thank the gods."

He relaxed. "Good... However I am curious on one thing. How did you come to work here?"

"My boss needed someone to help around her shop so she took me as an apprentice when I was a teenager and taught me how to make soaps and candles although she definitely has a knack for me being her maid too, but I would still rather work here than around drunk men at the inn. What about you?" Her eyes briefly glanced at him as she worked. "Why did you become a samurai?"

"It is an honorable family tradition passed down. I take pride in my path in life."

"You certainly seem to have the skill for it. How did you come to fight in the war?"

"Family duty. How did you come to carve?"

"I wanted to be a woodcarver but there wasn't any real opportunities for me to do that. I discovered that wax and soap was way softer than wood and I thought it would be good to practice carving on them so I can one day be a carver. It was just a hobby really but my boss noticed and she thought it would be a good addition to the store."

He completely stopped. "SHE thought it would be a good addition? So she didn't ask you if you were comfortable with doing it professionally?"

"No...Not really but I don't complain about it. It's still fun to do."

Disgusting greedy wench! If it was up to him, he'd arrest her entire bloodline! Unfortunately he needed to keep his cover and this wasn't his territory...Hmm. Asking his father to claim this territory sounded more tempting to him by the minute.

"I see..How is that candle coming along?"

She smiled again as she kept working. "I'm almost finished with it then I'll only have one last candle to carve for you."

"Perfect."

By the end of the day he walked out with three more candles finished and a small wrapped up pie she insisted he take with him to eat later. She just had one last candle to carve and then he'd be able to get back to his mother. She also seemed to be finishing a few days earlier than expected so he'll be able to leave sooner than later. On the last week of the month long time line she gave, he was meditating. Meditating with a head clear of thoughts until something knocked on his door. Six eyes snapped open. A hand instantly grabbing his weapon as his head snapped to the door.

"Kokushibo?," a woman's voice called from the other side. "It's me. May I come inside?"

...His form relaxed. Oh. What a troublesome woman. "You may enter."

The sliding door went open and the turquoise eyed woman stepped inside. In her hands was a small cloth bag and a pure white candle. "I finished so I thought I would come give it-"..She paused. Blinked. Before her face lit up a red and she looked away instantly. "W-W-WHY ARE YOU SHIRTLESS?!"

His brow rose. "Because it is summer and very hot. I prefer to meditate without sweating. I'm not indecent."

"P-PUT IT BACK ON PL-PLEASE!!," She squeaked out flustered at the sight of his toned upper body visible.

An amused huff left his throat before he reached for the discarded haori coat. "I assume you are completely finished?" She nodded still looking away. "Excellent."

The coat was tied around him quickly as he stood up and walked over to her. She shyly looked up at him and seemed relieved to see him fully covered again. The rosiness of her cheeks were soft compared to her sparkling eyes and the shy stance she took looked so-

B E A U T I F U L

He shook his head. "Let me see the candle." She handed it over without saying anything. The smell of sweet vanilla filled the air as he grabbed it and saw dancing snowflakes across it's surface. "...This is acceptable. Your obligation to me is done...What is in the bag?"

She cleared her throat. "W-Well, I heard you were leaving as soon as I finished everything so I brought you something to eat before you left." She handed over the bag to him. "It's a few baked sweet potatoes. You can eat them here or while traveling."

He took the bag from her and brought it close to his face. Indeed he was able to smell the food she described. "Hmm...These will also be acceptable. I thank you."

"Oh it was no problem." She smiled sweetly as a fluttering noise erupted behind him. Something black stopping on a window. "I was more than happy t-"

CAW!!

She squealed out and whirled around. He calmly turned his head behind him. Perched on an open window sill was a complete black bird with a purple ribbon around its next. It tilted its head at him before opening its wings and flapping them.

CAW!!

It shrieked again at them making her blink. "A raven?"

"Messenger crow," he corrected. His mother's personal messenger crow. And around her leg was a decently sized note rolled. "Hello, Ebony." He placed the objects in his hands down before walking over to her. He reached out and the crow happily let him scratch her neck. "Were you bringing me a message? What a good girl you are." The crow ruffled her feathers pleased and held still as he untied the message from her leg.

"Oh she's beautiful." The woman next to him smiled at the bird. Ebony puffed up ruffling her feathers more in pride. "May I pet her?"

"Certainly. Hold out your hand. If she doesn't move, then she's allowing you to touch her." He pulled the message away and unfurled it. "If she backs away, leave her be."

He didn't pay attention to her as she reached out to pet the crow...nor did he notice when the crow suddenly hopped onto her shoulder. His eyes scanned the message his mother sent and-...Oh no. This was not any kind of good news. As he suspected, the peace talks did NOT go well. His father wanted him back as soon as possible. Yoriichi was also taking the opportunity with his father absent and marrying Uta at the end of summer. This message was also a formal invitation for his brother's wedding ceremony...Which he won't be able to attend because of his father's demands to come back and help him with the next upcoming battle.

....It would be improper to not at least give Yoriichi a wedding gift unless he wanted rumors to spread.

He looked back up but..blinked seeing Ebony perched on top of the woman's shoulder. She was happily thrumming as the woman gently stroked her head. "She's very friendly isn't she?"

"Not .. usually. I've only ever seen her let two other people besides myself hold her like that." Which was his mother and Yoriichi.

She giggled. "Then I feel honored to be in her good graces." She looked back to him. "What did the letter say?"

"..My brother is getting married soon."

"Oh. What does that mean?"

"It means I have one more job for you before I leave."

[bbqhooligan]

The recurring dynamic between Dong Eun and Yeo Jeong where she expects him to behave, think in a certain way, stemming from her misjudgement of his character and he clears it up in a way that surprises her and she has to take a step back to reevaluate him and every time it brings them closer. It happens in only one direction, i'm guessing because Dong Eun is a closed off person with cynical views set down for everyone and isn't able to judge him accurately as he keeps breaking her expectations and because Yeo Jeong is a very observant and socially intelligent person with dead-on analyses of people he meets, he has a look in his eyes even as she does the simplest things, he reads her well enough not to be surprised at her actions in the same way.

So first is the time when they first met and had their Go sessions, while leaving him she makes some cruel remarks about how easy his life must have been, how he could never understand her that she won't even attempt to explain herself to him, which she later finds out, happened at the most difficult and turbulent time of his life (his father's murder still very fresh) when he himself clears it up after they meet again at the train. He asserts he only seemed like an untroubled, kind, person thanks to her and their lessons together was something grounding for him in the hardest time of his life, incredibly well played as he isn't even telling her she hurt him with her words, he is thanking her for being there, making her understand herself that the way she talked to him was wrong and then thinking she should speak to him again and apologize.

Second is more lighthearted and kinda funny, while he is aware the erectile dysfunction pill is just an excuse to talk to each other a part of him insists that she wouldn't need an excuse for it, so it could be real, and he shows petty jealousy at that possibility, first telling her she deserves better, someone who doesn't need the help and that it's concerning, and then, when it looks like he's done with his little rant that's pretty polite and proper considering the topic, he slides in this comment about how wondered what other health problems this guy could have and that he wished there wasn't an inch of him that was healthy, ending with an overly sweet demeanor of someone trying to downplay their emotions and intentions. Nothing too big. Just a little surprising for Dong Eun he would so easily wish bad for someone for so little.

Third is important because after opening up to him her entire story, he tells her she will lose herself with them if she goes through with this (she doesn't know in that moment that this is the very battle he is giving himself and not just an empty cliche spat out randomly), earning a bitter laugh and Dong Eun feels compelled to drive home the point that one with such perfect life and personality, dignity, wouldn't get the lack of autonomy and dignity she feels, it isn't a choice to her anymore, she strips and whatever moving parts he had in his mind settle into place and just after being told off for being a perfect, example person, he tells her not only will he aid her in every way, he will kill anyone for her. And while she can't know just how much of it he means in that moment it's still much more than what she expected from him, cleanly separating him from Ha Do Yeong. Do Yeong, as someone who simply didn't experience anything similar, can't find it within himself to muster more than the cliches, he can only approach her situation, her life, her mind and soul baring to him as a thought experiment, a debate about human morality and the ideal way to handle a dilemma, not the gut wrenching identifying of himself in her that Yeo Jeong feels, he has inherent understanding of her.

Fourth is again, silly, she takes a jab at him saying he can't look at/like her scars but she accepted them long ago, a combination of expecting disgust and pity whenever she reveals them to anyone and expecting that reaction from him, but then he tells her, no actually, he is mad she went to see Ha Do Yeong in pretty, revealing clothes. He isn't disgusted, he is possessive and full of desire at the sight of her. Her extremely covering/ modest wardrobe has him barking at the slightest skin reveal god help him. Dong Eun was wrong again about him.

[whitehotharlots]

Free Kareem

Kareem Hunt was probably the shittiest MeToo incident of the sports world. It happened over 4 years ago, which is an eternity by the standards of the today’s discourse, so let me recap what happened:

In February of 2018, two of Hunt’s friends went to a club while he stayed behind with his girlfriend in their hotel suite. The friends returned around 3 AM, and they had two very drunk and underage girls with them. Hunt did the correct thing: he told the girls to leave and had them escorted out of his suite.

The girls refused to leave. They stood outside Hunt’s suite for a half hour, screaming, failing, and pounding on the door. We know for certain this happened, because it was all captured on a security camera (full footage of this does exist, I’ve seen it, but Google has a way of burying primary evidence that contradicts popular narratives).

After approximately 20 minutes of screaming, Hunt’s girlfriend comes out of the suite to tell the girls to leave. This only intensifies the screaming and flailing. After a minute or so, one of the girls can be seen shoving Hunt’s girlfriend, who maintains her composure and goes back into the suite.

A few more minutes pass. The girls continue to pound and scream. Hunt himself comes out of the suite. He gestures toward the exit. The girls keep screaming. The same one who shoved his girlfriend now shoves Hunt. Again, he points toward the exit. The girl shoves him again, and he shoves her back, knocking her to the ground.

At this point, all but the most brain-damaged of feminists would agree that Hunt has done nothing wrong. But then he crosses a line: he raises his leg, hesitates, and gives the girl a kick, as if to accentuate that she needed to get her ass up and out of his hallway.

Now, yes, he should not have done the kick. Fine. But if you watch full video, it’s clear that he did not kick with anywhere near full force. It was more of a gesture than anything else. And, well, if an NFL running back were to kick a small woman with anything close full strength, that woman would not be able to get up and walk away.

I hold the retrograde opinions that men should be afforded some degree of dignity, and that random white women are not legally or morally entitled to enter the dwellings of black celebrities without permission. If I were the one to adjudicate this incident, I would have told the girl to go fuck herself. There’s really nothing Hunt could have done in this situation that would have escaped scrutiny. It was clear that the girl was unhinged and fully aware that she could manipulate MeToo discourse to force the black man to bend to her will: “Kareem Hunt Caught With Underage Girls Drunk in His Hotel Room” is also a bad headline, after all.

But, no, the headlines that were printed did not mention the girls’ intrusion, their initiation of physical contact with both Hunt and his girlfriend, or their statements to hotel staff about planning to exaggerate their claims so as to ruin Hunt’s career. 

9 months later, when TMZ released a very selectively edited expert of the footage, the headline read KC CHIEFS RUNNING BACK KAREEM HUNT BRUTALIZES AND KICKS WOMAN IN HOTEL VIDEO. At this point, his goose was cooked. The Chiefs threw him under the bus with alacrity, saying they weren’t going to bother digging into the specifics of the incident because they had already been contacted and Hunt (very, very understandably and justifiably) lied and said he never left the hotel room. This technicality was enough to end his tenure on the team. He was consigned to the living hell of the Cleveland Browns organization, and suspended for the first half of the following season. 

The average career in the NFL lasts just over three seasons. Running backs play the most physically taxing position in all of professional sports. The loss of a half season of pay is a massive, massive fine. But, still, that wasn’t good enough. The Root (a black-focused, Gawker-affiliated website that would have the exact same editorial content if it were owned by the KKK) ran the following headline “Cleveland Browns Sign Kareem Hunt Despite Video of Him Assaulting Woman. Kaepernick Still Banned for Kneeling.” From Vice we got “Kareem Hunt and a Sports World that Ignores Domestic Violence Victims:” a headline confirming the girls’ entitlement to a space in Hunt’s living area, regardless of not being invited and also being repeatedly told to leave. From Yahoo Sports “NFL should leave you feeling sick after recent revelations involving Kareem Hunt, Reuben Foster,” comparing Hunt to a man who appears to have actually committed domestic violence on multiple occasions. When Hunt was eventually signed by the Browns--which, again, is a punishment in and of itself--the President of the National Organization of Women used the occasion to claim that “women do not matter to the NFL,” and once more repeated the bizarre claim that he had committed “intimate partner violence” by shoving and kicking a stranger who had shoved him first. 

This, dear reader, is Intersectionality as it actually exists. It is not liberation. It is not leftist. It does not even provide protection to the groups who supposedly fall under its purview. The only goal of this wretched political movement is to divorce a person’s actions from the judgments of outsiders, to establish a hierarchy of NGO-defined victimhood statuses and provide hack journalists with a simple and unchallenagable means of sorting out the good guys from the bad guys. 

It’s not justice. It’s not an improvement over old systems. It’s a new way of being broken. It is, in short, the entirety of the modern American left.

[sapphire-weapon]

Can you explain what you mean when you say that a lot of RE2's tragedies are a result of Leon's inexperience at the time? To me it just felt like my poor guy was just at the wrong place at the wrong time and non of it was in his control :(

So -- just to be clear, I specified RE2make for a reason in that post. RE2make made Leon far more culpable/liable in people's deaths than RE2 OG ever did. OG pretty much was wrong place/wrong time for the majority of things that happened to or around Leon, but RE2make was very different.

But as a disclaimer, I haven't played through RE2make myself since about 2020. I recently did a quick refresh of it by watching cutscenes on youtube, but that's not the same. So, as a result, this is hardly going to be a comprehensive list or explanation -- just things that I can think of off the top of my head right now.

Leon absolutely gets the manager of the gas station killed in the very, very beginning. He just stands there like a dipshit, not moving, not trying to help, while the dude is holding back a zombie -- and he becomes a complete and total distraction as a result, which gets the guy bitten. If Leon hadn't been there, or if he had actually idk HELPED in some way, that guy would've lived.

When Leon first arrives at the RPD and tries to save that one officer who's trying to crawl under a shutter away from zombies, Leon does what most normal people would do in that situation and tries to pull him to safety -- but that's what gets him killed. A more experienced Leon would've known to look under the shutter and shoot any zombies back there first before actually trying to put hands on the officer. We see him do things like this fairly frequently later in the series.

LEON IS THE SOLE REASON BEN BERTOLUCCI DIES IN RE2MAKE HOLY SHIT I COULD NOT BELIEVE THIS WHEN I SAW IT THE FIRST TIME LMAO In OG, Ben kind of just gets suckerpunched by Birkin through the wall and has a lil G-creature burst out of his chest Alien-style. In RE2make, there is a SIGNIFICANT WINDOW OF TIME in which both Ben and Leon hear Mr. X approaching, and Ben BEGS Leon to let him out of the cell, and Leon's actual fucking response is "I'd have to ask Chief Irons" because he's more concerned with following the rules than saving the life of a man who is CLEARLY a sitting duck about to be murdered.

Everything with Ada. Literally everything with Ada is because Leon's a fucking idiot who's Bad At Things in RE2make.

A more experienced Leon would've absolutely tried to save Annette Birkin, regardless of her involvement with Umbrella and the development of the G-virus -- because, at the end of the day, she's still a person. In OG, Annette is kind of an evil villain caricature, but RE2make humanized her a lot and turned her into a more tragic figure who's still sane and recognizes the horror of what's happened. But RE2make Leon is so completely fucking gobsmacked by the revelation that Ada was lying to him -- again, because he's a fucking idiot -- that he just leaves Annette not only to bleed out, but to throw herself more completely at her own death. This one's kind of iffy just because there was probably no way to save her even if he did try, but the fact that he was too emotionally stunned to do anything at all led her to a much worse fate than she probably would've had otherwise. She could have died with some dignity, as opposed to none at all.

And this is just off the top of my head. There's probably more. Like. Thank god Claire was there, because there's no way Sherry would've made it if it'd just been Leon on his own.

[secretariatess]

Arvek 19

         Arvek hurried back to inside to see if what Rasinod was true.  He didn’t want to believe Rasinod’s words; even in Masitof’s coldness towards his son, he wouldn’t leave him out of important negotiations, regardless of Arvek’s input.  But then again, as much as Arvek disliked Rasinod, he couldn’t think of a reason the healer would lie about this.  Let alone lie about it and get away with it.

           He entered the castle’s entrance hall, almost running into Cor, who was on his way out.

           Cor took one look at his face and said, “You heard?”

           Arvek’s expression darkened.  “Did he really settle it without me?”

           Cor nodded.  There was a tense pause.

           “Do you know what agreements were made?” Arvek demanded to know.

           Cor shook his head.  “They only announced that they had come to an agreement and that a wedding would be arranged.”

           “When?”

           “A couple of months. Rovyna wished to return to Phrompt first.”

           “So she was present, and no one was sent for me?” Arvek asked.

           Cor hesitated, but it was enough of an answer.  Arvek took a few steps back from Cor, looking away and biting his lip in order to keep the flood of thoughts from tumbling out of his mouth.

           Cor remained where he was awkwardly, having no words to smooth the situation.

           Did Masitof’s anger burn against him that fiercely?  At least in the first part, he included him, even if it was clear that Arvek had little say in the matter.  

           He was reminded of Rasinod’s suggestion that the king’s reluctance in finding Selim was a political statement.  If it was a political statement, then Arvek wanting to find Selim was also a pollical statement, one that went against Masitof’s own agenda.  Wouldn’t that explain the whole problem?

           He pushed the thought out of his mind.  If he went down that path and took it to places it shouldn’t go, then he would only make the situation worse.  Rasinod was making assumptions.  Arvek needed the evidence before he could make such claims.

           However, being excluded did mean that he would have to confront Masitof. Rasinod was right about one thing: Arvek would be the one deal with the consequences of some of Masitof’s decisions.

           “Where is he?” Arvek said.  A certain coldness had crept up in his voice.

           Cor gestured up the stairs, stepping back as Arvek turned.

           Arvek hurried up the stairs as much as dignity allowed.  Down the hall.  Around the corner.  He was barely seeing where he was going.  He just knew the path as he had walked it so many times.

           After he rounded on corner, he came to an abrupt halt.  Princess Rovyna was walking her father down the hall.  Tyrovo didn’t notice him, but Rovyna did.  She dipped into a respectful courtesy, which he returned a polite bow.  He heard Tyrovo mutter some comment, but was too distracted by the look Rovyna was giving him.  It was very much like the scrutinizing look she gave him earlier, while listening to their fathers debate out the details.  He clenched his jaw and did his best to keep his expression blank.  She did not need to know what he was thinking or feeling in that moment.  It was bad enough that it was evident he was not sent for during the second part of negotiations.  Embarrassing, even.

           He waited until they passed before continuing on.

           He went around one more corner, then stopped in front of an open door. Masitof was sitting comfortably in a chair that was placed in front of the fireplace.  An elbow was propped up on an arm of the chair, and the side of his face was leaning in his fingers.  For a few seconds, Masitof did not acknowledge Arvek’s presence.  With a small sigh, that sounded a little irritated, he shifted his head so that he could return the look his son was giving him.

           When he got caught his father’s attention, Arvek marched into the room, walking over to the window and looking out, but not really seeing the view.

           “I heard you finished the negotiations,” Arvek said, the coldness in his voice still present.

           “They had to be finished at some point,” Masitof said simply, as though there was no rift between them.  As though he did not commit some egregious error.

           “Was it so exclusive that you did not think I was fit to be in on it?” Arvek said.

           “I figured that you and I would have the same thing to say,” Masitof answered, still unconcerned.  “So what was the point in calling for you and waiting for you to arrive, only for you to have no contribution?”

           “Thus far, you’ve not allowed me any,” Arvek pointed out.  He turned so that he was facing the king, though he could only see the side of his father’s face and the back of the chair.

           “Because again, we’ve been agreement in most things,” Masitof said.  “Do you have a problem with the alliance? Even though you were first agreeable?”

           “It is not the marriage I have an issue with,” Arvek replied.  “It is what you’ve decided what the marriage means that I have an issue with. And more so the reason why you’ve left me out of them.”

           “Do you think I would do something just to spite you?” Masitof said.  “I make the decisions I make for the sake of the kingdom. I would not stoop so low as to make a decision to rile you, especially if it put the kingdom at risk.”

           “So you acknowledge that there would be reason for you do to so,” Arvek said. He stepped over to the chair.  “And if there was reason for you do something like that, then why should I believe that you left me out in good faith?”

           The king did not say anything.  But he also had no expression that said he cared about the point Arvek made.

           “I know you are angry with me for pushing you to find Selim,” Arvek said.  “I don’t even know why. He’s your son. You should want to find him. That besides, however, you shouldn’t be taking your anger out on me in such a manner that will eventually affect my reign after you.”

           The king leapt to his feet, the previous calm giving way to rising red.  “Selim is a threat to how this country is run!” Masitof thundered.

           “A threat?! If he’s a threat to anything, it’s his own reputation! He’s done nothing against you!”

           “And he’s done nothing for me!”  Masitof started pacing in obviously failing attempt to keep himself under control.  “He skirts any kind of responsibility and runs off with just about anything with complete disregard of how it would make his family look.”

           “He’s not running off with the scum of the earth, if that’s wha-”

           Masitof cut him off.  “He has no discretion with his connections, nor his words! Just because you haven’t heard such reports, doesn’t mean I haven’t! One too many times I’ve heard that the boy has been sharing stuff he shouldn’t have been sharing.”

           “What exactly is that?! You’ve never let him in on things the public shouldn’t know, specifically because you don’t think he’s responsible!”

           “He sows distrust among the people with my leadership, whether or not he means to!”

           “This is the first I’ve heard of this.”

           “Because I don’t tell you everything!”  Masitof halted, glaring at Arvek and breathing heavily.  “Because Selim isn’t your responsibility!  And you should stop trying to make him your responsibility!”

           The two of them glowered at each other.

           Arvek said quietly, “You can’t expect me to not care for him. He’s still my brother.”

           “If he’s been kidnapped, it’s for ransom,” Masitof said.  “And until the kidnapper sends a message that they’re going to attempt to harm him, he’s safe and out of the way. He’s not causing me any problems. He’s not causing the kingdom any problems.”

           It was ungrounded.  It was hearsay.  It was a rumor.  But it was the ammo Arvek had.  “How can you say that? Do you think your people look at you favorably for ignoring his plight? Do you think the citizens see it the way you do?”

           The king’s face grew even redder.  “Considering Selim has done nothing for them,” he said in a dangerously low voice, “then his disappearance shouldn’t concern them.”

           “You didn’t send the letter like I asked,” Arvek surmised.

           “I did,” Masitof replied, though his tone was not very convincing.  “They are told to keep an eye for him, but not to do anything, as it was agreed.”

           “Yet you remain angry with me for just requesting that,” Arvek pointed out.

           “Because it wasn’t your place.”

           “He’s my brother.”

           “And not your responsibility.”

           There was another pause.

           “What else have you been keeping from me because ‘it’s not my responsibility’?” Arvek asked.

           “We are finished,” the king said.  He moved for the doorway.

           Arvek brushed aside the dismissal.  “You didn’t want me at negotiations not just because you were angry about the Selim situation, but because you thought I wouldn’t agree with what you put forth, or agreed to.”

           “We are done!”

           “You don’t trust my judgment unless I agree with you!”

           “You are still young, still learning! I must be careful in the advice I receive.”

           “Today’s negotiations affect my reign, not just yours.”

           Masitof stopped at the doorway and looked back.  “Many other kings would not let their heir have so much say, if any, in how the kingdom was ruled until the heir took the throne himself. I would suggest you remember that the next time you wish to complain about what decisions I exclude you from.”  He left immediately after saying this, not allowing Arvek time to respond.

           Arvek stared after his father in disbelief.

           The king he was seeing now was so very different than the king he thought he knew.

[clarafell]

Homura, I need advice, how do you tell someone you love them but feel like you don’t deserve them? I want to tell this person I love them but I did something bad in the past and I’m afraid that if they learn the ugly parts about me that they’ll hate me?

unprompted ask / always accepting!

Well, this is... new.

Very new.

Homura's cheeks were beginning to warm at the stranger's sudden appearance as they, without warning, began to pour their heart out to... her. For a couple of seconds, all she could do is stare in quiet shock. She thought about asking if they weren't mistaking her for someone else, but the masked stranger spoke of her name. She never thought someone would legitimately come to her for advice, especially relationship advice.

Who would even come to me for relationship advice? It's the first thing that popped into her head, still grappling with the reality of her situation.

Was this some kind of prank? It felt like a prank. Did Sayaka pay this person to mess with her?

It can't be her doing, no. She wouldn't do that kind of thing when it came to relationships, not when she has relationship issues herself. She has more dignity. That leaves me with... That left Kyoko as the next possible suspect, but Homura quickly crossed her out. Kyoko didn't have the money to pay anyone, not unless she was paying them in stolen food.

Who could be messing with her?

Mami may not like her, sure, but sending someone to mess with her didn't make any sense. She was too mature for such childish games. Madoka doesn't even cross her mind since Madoka would never do something cruel. Like oil and water, Madoka and pranks did not mix. The emotionless Kyubey, on the other hand, simply did not see the point of pranks. Hitomi might be a possibility, but that's stretching things a bit too much...

What was she being reduced to right now? Someone who worked on advice columns? She should be flattered someone is asking her for advice, but she wish she knew who this was. Maybe not, though. Knowing the person would only make things more awkward, at least for her. With a deep breath, Homura decided to simply address the person seeking her advice...

❝ You have to try to be honest, both with yourself and the person you like. However, honesty is not always an easy thing to do... especially if you have done bad things in the past. The guilt and fear can swallow you whole, but you can't let that control you for the rest of your life. I would suggest trying to write down your thoughts and feelings onto a piece of paper as a form of practice before you try to tackle speaking to another person. ❞

She's one to talk, isn't she?

Though she is still shocked, maybe a little bit wary, Homura didn't see any harm in helping them. The more she thought about it, the more she is convinced the anonymous person isn't joking around. Though she is relieved to be speaking well, she can't shake away the uneasy knots in her stomach. She isn't the best person with these kinds of questions. Mami is the best person for these types of things, so now she had to channel her inner Mami... Not that she had such a side, but still!

❝ Writing tends to help me since direct communication isn't easy. Talking to someone that you love can be hard, so I would try to reflect on what you want to say to them. Practice by yourself, but maybe try to include the help of any willing friends... Whatever you choose to do, remember to take your time. Acting too quickly isn't good, so please try to remember to take your time. ❞ Goodness, this is becoming more and more humiliating the longer she kept talking.

❝ If the person that you love truly cares about you as a person, I'm sure that they will understand that the past is in the past. People can change for the better. As long as you keep trying to be a better person, then I'm sure the person you like will also see that. Don't allow your past to shackle you from your present. ❞ It wasn't the best thing to end off on, but Homura thought it was still good advice.

❝ Whether they accept your confession, however, is an entirely different story. I don't know what will happen to you and your crush, but... Remember to always cherish them while they are in your life, even if they want to only remain as friends. People can slip away from your life in the blink of an eye, so remember to always cherish everyone in your life. ❞ Homura knew she shouldn't address the possibility of a rejection, but she did it anyway. She still wanted to include this piece of advice, even if it did scare them away.

[prismimic]

Just thinking again abt how invested gojo & geto both were in saving riko and how like. strategically considerate they were abt her situation. Sure they could've told her out the gate that they were ultimately leaving the choice up to her, or at okinawa, or at any other point in between. But her whole life had been leading up the the assimilation, and to cope with it she'd retreated into a shell. It's not such a simple task for her to just say "no" to this. She's built up a whole narrative in her head that this is her destiny, that "I am tengen and tengen is me", and she even has some sense of pride and dignity about her role.

But of course these two would immediately clock it as a front. Her sacrifice hits home for them, since they've been shackled to the same system that's now demanding this girl's blood for nearly their whole lives. They can bear it because they're shouldering that burden together (for now) and because their power, while limited, does afford them some degree of freedom, and the opportunity to bring about positive change. They walk a fine line together, being both instigators and pillars of the system. They don't want to let anyone pin them down as one or the other. The snarky attitude, the theatrics during fights, their bad boy-honor student balancing act, they're all just little ways of playing up the part. It's bravado.

So of course they wouldn't be fooled by a kid posturing as a martyr. They knew if they'd asked at the wrong time, riko might have thought they were just pitying her, treating her like a child -- denying her her 'destiny' because they thought she was weak. They know not to poke the pufferfish. So what they do is give her a chance (read: excuse) to truly enjoy herself guilt-free, and let her fully understand and experience what she would be giving up. They let her come with them to save kuroi. They stay in okinawa. They let her say her tearful goodbye, and finally they show her the temple, just to let the reality of the loss actually sink in. Then and only then do they tell her the truth.

And then it all gets ripped away, just like that, with no rhyme or reason. It's why her death had such an impact. It wasn't just the grief, so much as what their failure in this instance represented. This unshakable faith that no matter what, things will always work out for them, because they're the strongest. It's why they did all of this for riko, despite the risk both to them and her -- they've always felt secure enough that they could afford to live on the edge a bit, because they'd never actually fall. After this, that little bit of breathing room they had is gone. Their sense of personal agency, the belief that they can meaningfully change the way things are. Gojo realized he was only truly untouchable when he was alone, while Geto got left behind with no safety net.