#this damn series is so hypocritical

[wallflowers-in-the-wind]

Rhys and and Feyre can take their ‘court of dreams’ and jump off a cliff I swear I can’t read these books from their perspectives without wanting to scream. They’re such hypocritical monsters.

Court of dreams, more like court of nightmares for anyone who doesn’t fall in line.

[scorpion-flower]

the reason why Daniel even played Vlad was because there were some people at Netflix who insisted on having a Romanian do the job

they messed up a lot in the series with the given information, those foreign historians are wrong, but the series is told from the turkish perspective, I am bitter but I am also thankful for giving a Romanian the chance to portray one of the heaviest names in history, as he should've been from day 1.

Daniel was a monster, in the best way possible, on screen

Loooool, so it wasn't even because the guys making the show were trying to be accurate this time around?

Yes, I am totally expecting to see a lot of propaganda in s2 too, how Vlad was a monster who had a pathological hate against the Ottomans, but nothing about how that monster was created and why he hated them.

I am rolling my eyes everytime I see someone calling the series unbiased, when it's crystal clear to me that they only care, as you said, for the Turkish POV.

Anyway, the only thing we can hope, is that one day, other countries (especially under-represented countries) will be given the chance to show their history on such large platforms as well. Casting a Romanian to play Romania's most well-known historical personality was a good move.

[chuluoyi]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐒 !

- gojo satoru x reader // zen'in naoya x reader

in the wake of your scandalous divorce, you fall into the arms of emperor gojo satoru. for a while, you believe you have found love… until it becomes clear that your new husband is scheming behind your back! love, marriage, divorce… are you doomed to go through this path the second time?

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—might be ooc, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, marriage of convenience, explicit smut, pregnancy

note: loosely inspired by and taking some elements of manhwa remarried empress. this is the second part of remarried empress au trilogy! wc. 9.2k ! thank you so much for your love in the first part🩵 but as of now, TAGLIST IS CLOSED so i'd appreciate it if the comment section won't be flooded with asks for tags :')

credit header goes to @/mongsanghwa in twitter!

prev. all hail the empress | last. long live the empire

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Heavens, help me... I love her too damn much!

For Gojo Satoru, love was once an abstract concept. At first, he thought it was admiration, or a sense of obsession—

But on the day he watched you become Zen’in Naoya’s bride, Satoru realized it was much deeper than that. It felt like the sharpest sword had pierced straight into him and lodged itself there.

And then, years later— as if hearing his prayers, you became his. Since then, his life was perfect, because he wasn't lying when he said that you were everything he wanted in life.

Yet in a twist of fate, that same sinking, horrific feeling washed over him... as he watched the pagoda he built for you engulfed in flames.

You were there. Satoru felt himself staggering as he took in the mortifying sight. You and his unborn child are inside!

He didn't waste a breath as he dashed towards where you were, crushing everything in his path in the process, but just as he was about to enter the scorching temple—

“Satoru, no!” Suguru grabbed him, restraining him with his own body. “Get back!”

“No!” he screamed at him frantically. “She is there! Suguru, let go—!”

And then the worst happened, as the pagoda completely crumbled into a heap of rubble. Satoru's breath was knocked out of him as he faced the reality that he couldn't save you in time. And he felt like losing his consciousness as he wheezed, and thrashed in Suguru's hold.

It was all too much for him to comprehend as he struggled against the devastation before him.

How... did this happen? You were happy. You were about to welcome a child into your lives! The two of you really were...

SEVERAL WEEKS PRIOR

Your husband is trying to use you to wage a war... against your homeland.

You secluded yourself in your study, trying to make sense what you just overheard.

In a broader perspective, Satoru's actions could be constituted as national defense. If he perceived the Eastern Empire as a threat, then countermeasures were indeed necessary. But if not...

Regardless, it was not the very idea that blew you, but how he planned to use you to sway sentiment in your former country, to weaken them.

Is that what he's been aiming all this time? You felt like a hypocrite to question this since you too were using him. But these days, you were certainly not using him—you were falling in love with him.

It was strange, because you were supposed to be furious if that was his intent from the start. Yet what you felt right now was profound sadness, possibly even denial and heartbreak. You kept thinking how there must be another explanation—

“Sweetheart, hello~!”

You were startled when the door to your study was suddenly flung open, and the man from your thoughts strode in with a broad grin, completely oblivious to your inner turmoil.

"Satoru." You fixed him with a genial smile, even as nausea churned within you. Straightening your skirts, you looked up at him.

"I've been told you haven't been well, and Shoko said you've seen the physician," Satoru frowned, his long fingers cradling your face as he half-sat on your desk. "How did it go? What did he say?"

"Oh..." you clammed up, feeling at loss. "He said..."

Your dashing husband tilted his head curiously, bright eyes softened, worried lines etched on his face were so clear... and despite your conflict, you didn't have the heart to deny him this news.

"I'm with child." This time, your smile was genuine as you pushed back your intrusive thoughts. "Satoru... I'm carrying our child."

For a full ten seconds, Satoru was stunned, staring at you with a blank expression, his lips slightly parted. "H-huh...? Child? A... baby?"

"Mm-hm. A living baby."

"O-oh..." Satoru blinked his eyes rapidly—looking at your face, then your abdomen—before his expression broke into absolute wonder, broadly grinning. "T-that's... oh— it's—!"

To say he was speechless didn't cut it as he stuttered, messed his hair, pinched his own cheek, becoming restless yet looking so incredibly giddy—

"My queen!" Satoru suddenly lifted you and spun you around midair. "My beautiful wife—!" before gently sitting you on the desk and burying his face in your skirts, hugging your waist tightly. "Good lord, I'm— I'm so—!"

It hadn't truly dawned on you until now that you were going to become a mother. Witnessing Satoru's unabashed reaction as he nestled his face into you… nearly brought tears to your eyes.

Right in this moment, you didn't entertain any other thoughts. You were deeply moved by your husband's overwhelming excitement for your baby. And the realization that, despite Naoya's accusations—

Satoru looked up at you the second you sniffled, and he immediately drew you closer, pressing his forehead against yours.

"Hey, no tears, yeah?" He rested a hand on your jaw, his eyes sparkling with utter adoration as he gazed at you. "This is wonderful. We're going to be parents. This child... a part of you and me—we're going to bring them into the world."

You tugged his collar close and brushed your lips against his. And he responded with equal fervor. You yearned for this closeness with him.

. . .

But still in the back of your head, that lingering, buried fear whispered—

Is the man who adores you this much... capable of hurting you to the same extent?

With your bare bodies pressed closely, and you under him, Satoru could sense the rapid beat of your heart. And in return, you felt the heat of his palms against your skin and the tremors in his breath.

Yet now, in your marital bed, it quickly became clear to him that you, who were usually so composed and collected, were nervous. Satoru couldn't suppress the smile spreading across his face even if he tried.

"This is far from our first time, Empress." His coy smirk taunted you as he littered kisses along your jawline and chest. "What are you so jittery about, hmm?"

"Ah..." you let out a soft sigh as he sucked your breast with his mouth. "N-nothing... you're mistaken."

"Hmm... not confessing? Right..." He then grabbed the generous mound of your other breast and fondled it, making you squirm and moan.

But in the midst of this eroticism, suddenly your mind was thrown back to—

“That’s why I have her here.”

"Satoru," you breathed out, catching his hands. He looked up to you in slight surprise, thinking that you wanted to stop.

But he was in for a plot twist when you first pushed him, then flipped him underneath you, straddling him and capturing his lush lips, yanking his hair in the process.

"Whoa— hey..." Satoru held your hips, visibly startled but clearly enjoying your sudden whim, snickering. "My queen—ohh— you're a sight to behold, on top of me."

He grabbed the flesh of your bottom, sinking his fingers into it and pulling you forward. You let yourself be moved until your thighs were next to his ears.

Suddenly, it was, at once, the most peculiar experience—the greatest confidence boost you had ever received, and the hottest thing he had ever seen.

"You're so damn wet already," your husband nipped your inner thigh playfully as he observed your folds, and you gasped. "Are you ready?"

In response, you slammed yourself onto his face because, right now, you were in a less than forgiving mood.

"You look good under me," you darkly retorted, but then you choked on your own breath when your husband started licking your folds messily with his tongue.

Satoru smirked at the sound of your breathless noises, responding by lapping even more fervently. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tightening their grip on his scalp as you began to grind yourself against his face.

"You a-are really n-nasty!" you moaned, voice breaking at the feeling his sinful tongue parting your opening. "Maybe y-you have lied to me… all th-is time."

Satoru furrowed his brows in slight confusion, and perhaps a bit of annoyance, as he pinched your clit in retaliation, causing you to draw in a sharp breath.

"You're— awful!" but contrary to your claims, your face contorted with pleasure as the tight coil in your belly spasmed. "How m-many women... h-have you beguiled like m-me?"

He almost laughed into your ass. Literally. If being called awful was the price for pleasuring the most beautiful woman in the lands, then Satoru would be happy to be that horrible person every day of his life.

But then, you suddenly shifted on top of him, no longer positioning your hips in his face, and he quickly caught your face, crashing his lips against yours so both of you wouldn’t part for even a second.

"Nobody else," he murmured, wet lips and tongue ravishing yours, so much lust glistening in his eyes. "I'm all yours— forever." Just as he whispered it amidst pants, he groaned when your hand sneakily went to his very hard length.

And firmly grasped it. He got swollen just by tasting you and hearing your noises earlier. He growled, and against his senses, he pushed you down to lodge it inside you, penetrating and splitting you apart in one go.

“Ah—! Satoru— it’s too…!” you babbled breathlessly, your nails digging into his shoulders, feeling his huge cock pulsing inside your tight walls.

“Your fault,” he rebuked, eyes narrowing into darker shades, rigorously moving his hips against yours as he sat up. It was impossible to hold it in any longer, he could feel it already.

He tensed up, adjusting his position, so close to losing it inside you, and when he heard your dirty mewls and felt you shudder—reverberating through his body too—Satoru gripped your waist tighter, groaning, holding you in place to release his load inside you with precision.

Your body gave in as well, releasing at the same moment his cum burst inside you. Your vision blurred as the nastiest of moans escaped you, yet you felt so safe as your husband caught you in his arms.

. . .

"Are you okay?" Satoru asked worriedly after you rolled off him in the aftermath of your bliss. "Do you feel sick?" Your unfocused eyes met his, and he looked panicked, pulling you closer. "Shit, did I go too far? I shouldn't have, especially with the baby still in the early stages..."

"I'm... okay," you croaked, trying to reassure him. "Just tired..."

Heaving a relieved sigh, Satoru pecked you in the lips.

"Am I... a mess?" you leaned on him with a blissful smile, feeling his cum still trickling out between your legs.

"Yeah... My beautiful mess, that is." Satoru chuckled, reveling in the state of your disarray. "Soon enough," his hands traced your skin before settling on your tummy, a fond smile curving his lips. "Our baby will grow here."

"Yes—" you replied, placing your palm over his. "Do you... want a boy or girl?"

A boy would be the much sought-after prince, and you fully expected him to favor it, until to your surprise, Satoru lightly hummed and pressed a kiss on your belly button.

"Does that matter? What's important is you deliver them safely and they're healthy," he chuckled. "A princess will be nice... she'll turn out to be as lovely as you."

"But the heir has to be a prince..."

"Nah. I can always amend the succession norms. I'm the emperor."

And you giggled next. Seeing how free you looked, Satoru thought you were the woman overturning his skies and stars, and you truly are—as now you are the mother of his own flesh and blood, his future empire.

There will be a nation-wide celebration for you. Satoru insisted it was a must, and he would invite dignitaries from neighboring empires and kingdoms as well.

Including the Eastern Empire.

. . .

“Your Majesty. I... bring a gift and an invitation from the Western Empire.”

Naoya clacked his heel on the carpet, casting a sharp, yet uninterested look at his aide.

“There will be a celebration for—” the poor man gulped uneasily, faltering as if he could foresee how his emperor would react. Naoya scowled.

“Spit it out.”

“The former empress’ pregnancy, Your Majesty!”

“What...?” At that moment, he snapped his head towards him. It felt like everything he had ever known came crashing down. “Y/N...?”

That can’t be possible. For many years both of you had failed. That was why he took that maid and divorced you. No, upon reflection, it was never truly his intention to divorce you—he had wanted you to raise that child if you couldn't bear one.

But then you completely ignored him and had an affair with Gojo Satoru. He was furious. He couldn't bear the disgrace of it all, so he went with the divorce, if only to assert some control. However, the joke was on him, as you ultimately fled with Gojo entirely.

But if you aren’t infertile... Then, what did that make him?

Numerous thoughts ran through his mind. Was it possible that it was his child instead of Gojo’s? How many months had it been anyway?

...or could it be that he is the one who is—!

“No...” he muttered, frantic, taking sharp breaths. “Absolute rubbish!”

The aide stared at him in fear, as Naoya appeared unhinged now. But soon, that fear gave away to pity, as the emperor trashed his desk and howled in frustration— but contrary to the expected fury, Naoya looked like he was mourning, evident by the way he flung everything but the very portrait from his coronation day.

Of him and you. Even after that disastrous divorce, he had never taken it down from the wall of his study. Now, Naoya was staring at it, a multitude emotions clouding his eyes.

This man, just as the aide had always thought, has thrown away the only good thing he has in his life.

“Are the invitations sent already?” Satoru asked with a blooming smile, rolling the yarn out of his cat’s reach as the poor kitty grappled to catch it. “And how are the preparations going?”

“Banquets are usually handled by the Empress, but you really go out of your way and do it instead,” Suguru shook his head, unamused by the added workload it brought him, especially considering his disinterest in festivities.

“They’re all sent, some of them responded—before you ask, Naoya hasn’t— and I’ve cascaded the preparation to Shoko, since I have no clue what to do about it.”

“Well, not that I care if he’s going to stay sour and wants his name tarnished in the daily papers as a bitter ex-husband…” Satoru shrugged, petting Sugu-chan as the cat purred contentedly. “He is tactless, he very well might be.”

“You really want to spite him, don’t you…” Suguru sighed. “You even sent him a note. It was unnecessary.”

“He was the one hurling curses at me and my empress first. I’m just returning the favor.”

The note in question was of lines after lines of flowery nonsense about gratitude and whatnot. Satoru imagined Naoya's vein would burst after reading his card.

“I’m happy for you, Satoru.” As exasperated as Suguru was, his smile was genuine when he said it. “A royal baby, huh...”

"Suguru." The emperor's voice suddenly dropped an octave, surprising him. "What about the placement of the totem I told you the other day?"

The abrupt shift in conversation made Suguru visibly uncomfortable, and again, they were back to this topic.

"You're seriously going to do this?" the duke asked, almost in disbelief. "Satoru, you're going to become a father. You have everything already. This will lead to war one way or another, and—what if the Empress finds out? How do you think it'll make her feel?"

However, Satoru's gaze was cold as he dismissed most of Suguru's tirade. There was a chill in his expression that made his longtime friend inwardly questioned who the man before him was.

"I'm asking you. Have you done it or not, Suguru?"

"You're going to put a curse on a whole village, Satoru."

"I told Zen'in Naoya the moment I got Y/N, that it would mark the beginning of his downfall. I'm making good on that promise."

Suguru pressed his eyes shut to calm his fury. Morally, what Satoru did was wrong, but politically, this was the art of war. Suguru purely opposed to this out of consideration for you.

Few understood Satoru's actions as well as Suguru did. He might understand, others like you and Shoko wouldn't.

"Just remember, when the Empress catches wind of this, she's going to resent you," Suguru warned. "No matter what your reasoning might be."

Satoru's upper lip curled upwards, his eyes bereft of light, narrowing with indifference.

"Unless you never tell her, that is of no relevance."

Love... has he ever loved you all this time?

Naoya had never been confronted with that question or pondered it, simply because he never considered love existed within the context of something as grand as monarchy.

You were chosen because you were well-bred and well-versed in the arts of nobility. You were indeed the epitome of an ideal empress, a fact evident throughout your tenure.

But...

"Naoya!" you yelled at him and caught his hand. "You're a fool! Why did you keep doing that!?"

It was a long-buried memory, when you were still in your teens, around the time you were just made the crown princess. His hands, bruised and bloodied, and you tended to them.

"I'm not weak, you know," he sullenly barked. "I have to train to be stronger."

"You definitely have to train, yes... but you have to take breaks!" you retorted angrily.

"Why do you care so much anyway?" he snapped back. "It's not like your hands that are injured."

And that moment, you were suddenly almost in tears. Naoya never understood why.

"Don't cry." But his instincts told him to make you not cry. "Don't cry. I'm fine, see?"

. . .

Zen'in Naoya jerked awake from his slumber, realizing he had forgotten what his dream was, that it was still the late afternoon, and he was still in his study.

All he felt was that nostalgic feeling, and it intensified when he glanced up... only to see his coronation portrait on the wall.

It was almost as if you were still here. You were incredibly stunning, he had to admit that. Why hadn’t he realized until just recently?

The way your crimson dress flowed out, and that thin, serene smile on your face... you were a picture-perfect empress, and that was not an exaggeration. No one could measure up to you—

"Your Majesty~!"

Especially not Hanabi.

"Your Majesty, the princess has started holding her head up!" Hanabi, now no longer dressed in rags but rather in one of your dresses, excitedly remarking, "Soon, she will start to—"

Naoya's gaze fell on her dress. He recognized it instantly. That specific deep, vibrant shade of red with serpent-like waistband. It was one of his gifts to you for your birthday. "Why are you wearing that?"

"Huh?" she seems perplexed. "Oh this... I thought it looks pretty..."

But to her surprise, he suddenly flared with fury. "That isn't yours, you dullard," he spat out.

Her expression sank in heartbreak as he continued with his venomous speech. "Know your place." His words cut like a blade. "And I keep telling you, a princess is of no use to the throne!"

Hanabi fought to hold back the tears, because not only had he insulted her, worse still, he showed no interest in their daughter. "She is still of your blood, Your Majesty," she replied, her voice trembling.

"I told you, I only want a heir." His sneer caused her eyes to widen in shock. "Other than that, I won't care."

"Your Majesty, please—" Hanabi was desperate for him to acknowledge their daughter, when she caught sight of your ethereal face on the wall.

He still hasn't taken it down. It made her eyes twitch, and her own anger to rise.

"The former empress..." she stared at your picture resentfully. "You still have her here. We never even have our portraits painted..."

Naoya's icy gaze leveled at her without a hint of sympathy, despite the woman standing before him being the mother of his child.

"Why do you look at me like that?" Hanabi asked, tears spilling from her eyes. "You used to care for me when you thought I would bear you a son. Even if it's a daughter, she deserves love too, doesn't she?"

In the last five years, she had come to know that the emperor wasn't always this manic person. He used to be gentler, or at least not as vindictive.

And she never truly wanted you to be cast away like that. She looked up to you, admired you from up close, and meant it when she said she would carry your legacy as best as she could.

"Are you dumb?" Naoya barked. "I told you to know your place!"

...yet why? Why are people in this palace so harsh to her?

“I wish you luck on that, Hanabi. Beware, the emperor is fickle…”

Your unkind eyes, Naoya's disdainful stares even after she gave birth to his child... She didn't even care about becoming the empress anymore. She just wanted a happy life!

"If it was the former empress' child... even if it was a princess..." Hanabi turned to him with determination even amidst her pitiful tears. "You wouldn't cast her aside just like you do now with my daughter, would you, Your Majesty?"

Naoya's gaze, devoid of emotion and filled with blatant disinterest more than anything, shot through her, hurting her more than if it was filled with fury instead.

The lack of warmth in his stare made her feel like being looked through rather than being seen. As if she is that insignificant.

"Leave," he ordered coldly next, turning his back on her.

And there is her answer.

Hanabi had been your maid for five long years. She knew who you were, what you stood for, and your whole demeanor. Yet, despite her best efforts, she could never emulate you in the same way, could she?

. . .

"My lady... don't you know that the former empress is with child?"

Once again, Hanabi felt the sting of ice when her lady-in-waiting delivered the news.

"Empress... Y/N?" she whispered. "How...?"

You were stripped of your titles here, and yet you still remained a queen somewhere else. Hanabi might have won Naoya's favor, but now she was losing it while you had another emperor's affection.

Not much had changed about you. You still occupied the highest seat a woman could possibly attain. Whereas she...

"But she is barren!" she turned to her confidant then, almost in disbelief.

"Evidently not. Emperor Gojo has proven that."

How nice. A part of Hanabi wanted to congratulate you because she knew of your sufferings—how much you longed to hold a baby from your womb in your arms.

How unfair... But another part of her couldn't help but despise you. Because even in your absence, she still had to live in your shadow. Because you, who had lost everything, regained it all so easily.

"And my lady... Emperor Gojo is going to throw a banquet for this occasion next month. You are expected to attend it."

"Sweetheart, you asleep?"

One night, several weeks later, just as you were about to drift off to sleep, you felt the sheets shift as Satoru slipped into bed beside you.

Though you didn't turn to face him, you felt his warm hands wrap around your waist from behind.

"Satoru... you're back," you murmured sleepily.

"Mm-hmm," he whispered, pulling you closer to his chest and burying his face in your hair, taking in your scent. "Shoko told me you've been in your bedchamber since breakfast. Are you okay?"

"I get queasy if I walk too much, so I've been lying down all day... But don't worry, the physician said it's normal in early stages of pregnancy."

His grip on you tightened, as he caressed your belly. "Hmm, naughty baby. I'm sorry I wasn't here..."

"Where were you?"

For days now, he had been away, and you hadn't really questioned him. You had your guesses though—

"I was overseeing the construction of a new pagoda," he said softly, kissing your neck. "For you, actually."

That was so unexpected that it made you open your eyes fully. "What— for me?" Building pagoda was definitely not a small affair. Usually it was for religious purposes.

"It's a gift to the heavens for blessing me with you and our baby. It's expected to be completed before your celebration banquet."

The tower would be the testament of his love for you and your unborn child. Despite yourself, your heart swelled with overwhelming warmth.

"You're so silly... why do you spend the tax funds for that?" you brushed off the faint heat in your face, not daring to look at him still.

"Whatever I wouldn't do for you?" he cheekily retorted, chuckling.

You had never felt this cherished before, and this time you were certain—you were more than ready to fall in love with this man.

But he... is planning to use you, isn't he?

"Satoru." You shuffled to turn and face him, causing him to crack his lidded eyes open. You gazed at him, placing both of your hands on his face, caressing his face softly.

You're so kind to me. I appreciate you for that. You wanted to tell him various things, but the darkness in your heart ever since overhearing his exchange with Suguru made it hard for you to do so.

"Mm? What is it?" he drawled with a small smile, leaning into your touch.

“You... love me, don't you?”

His bright eyes found yours then, sharp and steady. An impossibly fond smile graced his lips, as if finding what you said the most natural thing there was.

“Throughout heaven and earth,” he proclaimed, his voice steady to match his eyes. “Yes, my queen.”

...then you would trust him, if only just for this moment. The genuine sincerity in his eyes, the raw authenticity in his words... it all felt too real.

And so, even when you were well-aware of the bitter possibility of truth, you leaned in and kissed him, giving yourself to his touch as his hand slipped inside you.

And soon, came the day of the lavish banquet solely held to celebrate your pregnancy.

You were seated on your throne, dressed in a stunning aquamarine gown. The skirt of the dress was full and flowing, spilling onto the floor in a waterfall of shimmering fabric. Upon your head perched your crown of diamonds, glinting beneath the light, and your ceremonial veil to make you look as queenly as you could possibly be.

Everyone would agree that you were a sight to behold, and that you were worthy of every praise possible.

"Many congratulations to you, Your Majesty."

"This is a splendid news! A royal baby!"

"To think that the emperor has settled down... sniff, how long have we been waiting for this...? We almost gave up."

You almost giggled at the way Archbishop Yaga wiped his tears with a handkerchief as he presented you with his gift.

Despite your initial reservations, you enjoyed the festivities more than you expected. You had opposed the idea at first, finding it quite unnecessary, but Satoru had pouted for three long days until you eventually relented to appease him.

Speaking of him, he was equally dressed to impress, looking every bit as an emperor he was in an exquisite aquamarine military uniform and robes. Despite engaging in conversation with Earl Nanami, he kept a watchful eye on you, stealing glances in your direction to ensure you were well.

You nodded at him, and he threw you a wink. You smiled.

Everything was truly going well... until the herald announced:

"Prince Megumi and Royal Consort Hanabi from Eastern Empire!"

There was suddenly a hush over the crowd as the two made their entrance. You stilled, looking at the figure responsible for your checkered life—

Hanabi was starkly different since the last you saw her at the courthouse during your divorce. Her dress was now a vibrant shade of burgundy red, reminiscent of a gown you once wore. Gone was her air of humility, replaced by a display of extravagance befitting a noblewoman.

She is no longer your maid, but Naoya's consort. There was no trace of the woman who once served you. You were actually impressed, as she could actually shape herself into the image of a royal consort.

"Empress." However, your attention quickly shifted to Naoya's nephew, and once also your ward, Megumi, as he bowed before you respectfully. "Congratulations."

A fond smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you regarded the young prince who had once been a very shy individual. It reminded you of the days spent with him just to get him out of his shell.

"Thank you, Megumi."

"Diamonds suit you far better than golds do. I wish only for the best for you, Your Majesty."

It warmed your heart, really. Using that reference to your gold crown from your time in the Eastern Empire, you could see how much Megumi truly understood your position and bore no resentment towards you.

Could the same be said for Naoya though?

Right after you received his gift—an ornate box that seemed oddly familiar to you—Hanabi suddenly blurted out:

"So, fate has smiled upon you. Congratulations Empress Y/N." She kept that soft, meaningful smile on her face as she offered her felicitations.

Ever since her arrival was announced, something about her demeanor had bothered you. There was a subtle emptiness that seemed to linger in her gaze.

"Thank you," you responded, and that was when you noticed it. There was never any celebration for the birth of her daughter and Naoya, only a passing announcement.

And so, you added. "Congratulations on the birth of the princess too."

You could have sworn her expression fell for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure and bowed her head to you.

For a while, you lost sight of her in the crowd, feeling quite comfortable in your dais. Soon after, Satoru returned to your side, and the herald announced:

"Attention! His Majesty the Emperor's gift for Her Majesty the Empress!"

You looked at Satoru questioningly, and he gave you a dashing smirk before turning to the crowd.

"Thank you, all of you, for joining us to celebrate this joyous occasion." The way he carried himself and the sheer confidence he exuded was mesmerizing, you couldn't deny how it made you swoon. "I've been infamous for many things, and I'm sure the tales have spread far and wide. So please, allow me one more gesture with you as the witnesses."

The crowd giggled at his words, and you finally spotted Hanabi among them, quietly assessing the scene.

Your husband turned to you, a soft smile on his face.

"This is for you my empress— my lovely queen. Words can't describe how elated I am to know that now you bear our child." He took your hand and pressed a kiss on it. "And it's only fitting that I praise you along with the skies and the stars."

A footman arrived and presented a pearly box. Satoru opened it, revealing a necklace inside. The centerpiece was a large, flawless diamond surrounded by smaller, perfectly cut stones of the same kind. No matter how you saw it, it was truly a work of art, meant to captivate and dazzle anyone who laid eyes on it.

You let out a gasp. "This..."

Satoru grinned, picking up the jewelry and preparing to place it on you. "Nothing much. Just a little trinket for you."

"This is not just a 'little trinket'!"

Your banter elicited another round of snickers from the audience as Satoru fastened the necklace around your neck. The moment he did, the crowd erupted into applause.

"Actually, my real gift is the new pagoda in the royal gardens, built in honor of the Empress," Satoru stated effortlessly, grinning unabashedly. "Feel free to stop by later, everyone."

To the ton, for him to gift you with something so sacred was the height of extravagance. Some of them wondered how you had managed to turn the elusive emperor into someone so devoted to you.

And a few... might be harboring ill will against you for it.

. . .

Later that night, you were sorting through the gifts you had received throughout the day.

"I don't understand, why would you give an expecting woman this?" Shoko picked apart a manuscript that was the gift from Archbishop Yaga. "Who would read this?"

"I wouldn't, but I'm sure Duke Geto would," you replied, and soon the two of you were giggling together.

From jewelry to ornaments, you were pleased with all the gifts presented by the guests from day one. While most were given out of formality, it was heartwarming to imagine your baby seeing all these someday.

Your attention soon turned to the box Megumi handed you earlier—Naoya's gift.

You were intrigued, because what could your spiteful ex-husband could possibly give you? And you immediately reached over to open the lid to find...

"What's that?" Shoko asked as your eyes widened in slight surprise.

Inside the box was an intricate gold and ruby necklace. One you knew well. The very one you wore during your coronation as the Empress of the Eastern Empire.

Years ago, Naoya himself had chosen this piece for you, and now he was gifting it to you, again?

“From now on, it’s going to be me and you, Empress.”

Reliving years of your marriage with him wasn't easy. You two were childhood sweethearts, and had been happy in the beginning. You couldn't pinpoint when things began to fall apart, but suddenly Naoya turned into such a person you didn't recognize altogether.

Seeing this relic made you nostalgic, and before you realized it, you touched it, trying to get a better look—

"Ah—!"

Suddenly, a sharp, unexpected pain shot through your abdomen. You instantly dropped the jewelry, letting it crash to the ground, and clutched your lower belly.

"Empress! What happened?!" Shoko rushed to your side in an instant, holding you up, and you whimpered.

"It hurts—!" Your breath hitched, as a seemingly invisible knife gutted you from inside. The intensity of the pain was overwhelming, leaving you gasping for breath. "Shoko, please—"

And before you could even scream or think, the pain blindsided you and your vision titled, before blacking out completely.

First came the warmth, then a reassuring squeeze on your hand. As your consciousness returned, you felt groggy, with your surroundings sharpening into focus.

The first thing that became your main focus the moment your eyes fluttered open was Satoru's face, a mixture of fright and relief etched across his features.

"You're awake..." He breathlessly muttered, sitting on your bedside, interlacing his fingers with yours. "How do you feel?"

"Sa...toru..." your voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper, and as soon as he heard you speak, he exhaled sharply, pulling you into a tight embrace.

"Heavens, I—" he let out a long sigh, his breath hot against your neck. "I'm so glad... you are..."

"What h-happened to me...?" you were feeling feverish and a dull throb was pounding at the back of your head, before the shock of it all dawned on you. "B-baby...! Our—!"

"Baby is okay too, don't worry," Satoru assured, pulling away from you to gently touch your cheek and squeeze your hand. "Both of you are fine for now..."

The horror that you might lose your baby shook you to the very core. Your vision blurred with the threatening onset of tears.

"Wh-at happened to me, Satoru...?" you asked again as he wiped your first falling tears, your heartbeat sounding so loud in your ears. "I-I was just..."

His expression took on a sudden shift, as if a dark cloud had passed over his face.

"You came into contact with a cursed object," he stated, his eyes hard as he locked onto yours. "You were cursed, Y/N."

"What...?" You were rendered speechless, feeling your body starting to shake. Cursed object? Your past coronation necklace?

Naoya was trying to curse you?

"It's okay, I'm here now, yeah?" Satoru's voice broke through your spiraling thoughts, grounding you in the present. "Look at me. Hey, look at me." he repeated, his deep blue eyes locking onto yours with intensity.

“I’m here. I’m here with you. Nothing—absolutely nothing—will touch you so long as I’m here.”

But in that moment, your mind was so overwhelmed with fear for yourself and your unborn baby that you couldn't fully grasp the magnitude of the mess unfolding before you, and you just cried in his arms.

Feeling your feeble fingers fisting his robes and your inconsolable tears staining his collar, Satoru gritted his teeth.

“This won't happen again,” he whispered into your hair, feeling his rage simmering as he felt the tremors of your sobs against his chest. “I swear, I won't let anything like this happen again.”

To Satoru, that was more than enough to justify all his subsequent actions. Putting a curse on his empress essentially amounted to an act of beginning a war.

And it also meant he no longer had to operate behind the scenes.

“Keep them in Clock Tower. No contact. Only food and water at designated times.”

Satoru's icy gaze on the captain of royal guard compelled him to hastily comply with the order, before his eyes landing on the map of the entire continent.

In response to the incident that befell you, he issued orders for open hostility along the eastern and western borders. Soon after, he would formally declare his intention to go to war.

So close. He was so close to achieving his end goal.

. . .

"Satoru!"

Several days later, Suguru burst into his study, visibly outraged. He clenched his fists, looking as if he was about to throttle him altogether.

"You—" he heaved a harsh breath. "You have gone too far!"

"What are you talking about, Suguru?"

"Is cursing the entire winery village not enough for you?" This was the first time Suguru had been this furious with him. "Did you really have to massacre the neighboring district as well?!"

"They have placed a curse on my empress." It was so easy for him to say it. "Anyone who dares to harm her shall die."

"You can direct it at Zen'in Naoya! Not the innocent civilians!"

Satoru remained silent, neither shaken nor enraged, and he had finally had enough.

“Are you even sure it’s because the empress is cursed?" Suguru challenged. In his view, this farce had been going on too long.

“No, Satoru. You are just using her. For so long, you have wanted to bring bloodshed to Western Empire. You were almost there when Empress Y/N proposed that deal to marry you.”

You were informed, days later.

“His Majesty has placed the prince and royal consort of the Western Empire under strict watch in Clock Tower.”

Clock Tower was essentially the prison where they kept war criminals. Learning that Satoru had confined both Megumi and Hanabi there left you aghast.

After some days of bedrest and getting better, you realized that the entire situation still didn't make sense to you. As hateful as Naoya was, harming you would do him more harm than good. Eastern and Western Empires stood evenly matched in military power, and hence, a conflict between them would bring devastation to both sides.

And moreover, you knew for sure was that Megumi was definitely not the one responsible for this. He was just a boy!

You had to let him out somehow. You had to talk to Satoru about this.

Or at least that was what you thought when you came close to his study.

“Are you even sure it's because the empress is cursed? No, Satoru. You are just using her. For so long, you have wanted to bring bloodshed to Western Empire. You were almost there when Empress Y/N proposed that deal to marry you.”

You stopped on your tracks—stunned into place, to be exact.

“And you’ve struck gold when she did because her influence will provide you with greater advantage.” Suguru scoffed then, lightly shaking his head with a sneer. “Love? How laughable. All these years, you are planning your warpath, how could you claim you love her when you're trying to ravage her homeland without even considering the impact it would have on her?”

It felt like whiplash. Geto Suguru's voice had your feet rooted to the spot, causing all your doubts to resurface and sizzle in an instant. The very question you had tried to avoid, it was suddenly shoved in your face.

What... will Satoru say? Your heart thumped so loud in your ears it made you almost stagger. He couldn't possibly. He simply couldn't. All his actions... they reflected his affection for you and you believed it because you felt it yourself too.

But Satoru's next response was—

“Even when she is derided as the devil, I will bring an end to the Zen’in line in this lifetime.”

And a part of your heart withers then.

The tips of your fingers trembled, finally taking in everything that you had tried to ignore for the past few weeks. It all caught up to you in one overwhelming rush.

Suddenly, it felt as if something inside your chest was torn out and held up for you to see.

"I'm telling you, that day will come sooner than you think, Satoru." Suguru's voice broke through, his frustration palpable. His words snapped you out of your reverie, and you took a step back, retreating to the safety of your study.

The first time you felt utter hollowness wrecking you was when you had suspected that Naoya might have taken Hanabi to his bed. The feelings overwhelming you now were eerily similar to how you felt back then.

Only in this case…

You had used him first, and if he used you in return... you couldn't fault him.

But isn't it still a bitter truth, even when a mutual transaction is very well within his rights, to know that what you believe as love may apparently not really be the case?

Love... of course, he loves you.

Of that, he was certain.

But at the same time… he had his ambitions.

Destroying the Eastern Empire. Was it so wrong that he wanted it? Didn't you want this as well? After all, Naoya had spurned you for a lowly servant and made your life hell, didn’t he?

Satoru strolled through the halls and made his way to your study, where the sight of you, so pretty and regal in your seat, greeted him.

His beautiful, graceful wife and empress of his nation. For so long, he had desired you, and now here you were, perched within his walls. His heart couldn't be more full— his life is complete already.

"Sweetheart, hey... how are you feeling today?" an adoring grin was visible on his face as he approached you. "Does the baby give you trouble today?"

You didn't answer though, and didn't look at him either. It was quite strange, Satoru thought.

"What's wrong? Is there something—" And when you finally turned to him, the look in your eyes was so eerily cold it almost gave him a chill.

"Release Megumi from your dungeon," you told him with a strained tone. "And return him to his home empire."

The smile on Satoru's face vanished that instant.

"I can't do that."

You rose from your seat, facing him. "He is just a child."

Satoru regarded you with a stern look. “That child you speak about is a prince of the Eastern Empire. He has committed a great crime against you.”

“Naoya didn’t do it.” Your steely gaze was unflinching. “He might be senseless, but he isn’t insane enough to deliberately go into a war he might possibly lose.”

Satoru's eyes darkened at your words, as you stood before him with determination. The way you were so adamant somehow took him aback. “How... could you defend him? He has wronged you!”

It was one question you had expected, and you had the answer ready.

“Even if he has, I could never wish doom upon my own homeland, Satoru. I’ve lived most of my life there, I did a great deal of things there— even if you harbor some sort of misguided contempt or just bloodthirsty enough to lay ruin to Eastern Empire, I refuse to be the puppet for your schemes!”

There it was. You had said it. Everything would crumble once again just like your previous marriage.

Satoru was staring at you in slight disbelief, his eyes gleamed with something that you couldn't really pinpoint. Anger? Disappointment?

“Your life was in danger, as was our unborn child’s. Don’t you care about that—!” he actually had to stop to catch his breath. “Don’t you care that our child nearly didn't make it?”

“And? You must have thought it was the perfect grounds for declaring a war?” but you didn’t relent and questioned him with a scoff. “And afterwards, you would try to use me to gain defectors from Eastern Empire, is that it?”

You saw the flash of surprise in your now-husband's eyes right when you recited his words, but you weren't about to hold back any longer now.

“Now you’re using my safety to justify your actions,” you hissed, feeling like suddenly you understood what all of this was. “You’re quite cunning, Satoru. I’ve heard everything—you will do anything to bring an end to the Zen'in lineage! You won’t even consider the repercussions of my reputation being tarnished across the lands!”

“Is that even important now?” Satoru gritted his teeth to suppress his irritation. “You have been cursed. Do you honestly think I would let them get away with cursing my empress? How could I, who seek to protect you, be more vicious than whoever in Eastern Empire who cursed you with that necklace?”

“You’re doing this for your personal gratification!” you exclaimed. “It is never about me. You’re just a warmonger!”

The moment those words left your lips, Satoru stilled. His gaze on you faltered, and you could’ve sworn hurt flashed in his face.

“Just how low… is your opinion of me?” he asked, his tone dropping, eyes devoid of emotion. “You jump into conclusions only after overhearing something in a passing and yet you know for sure Naoya wouldn’t harm you—” he clenched his jaw.

“You… really loved him, didn’t you?” he asked with a sardonic smile. “I know it already. You won’t ever be able to do the same for me. You can’t even trust me.”

You were rendered speechless. Despite your doubts of him, hearing this still felt like a slap in your face.

Won’t be able to do the same for him? No. That’s not true. You are—

Satoru let out a defeated laugh and ran his hand through his hair, leaving you uncertain whether he was amused or heartbroken by your lack of response.

“It’s funny, how I have loved you for so long... but apparently the woman I believed to have even a semblance of affection for me doesn’t even exist.”

It felt like that one part of you that was capable of feeling love had been stabbed once again.

To say this out loud hurt you deeply, unbeknownst to him. You didn’t mean this at all, still it was what came out of you, out of spite—

“In the end, we’re just using each other. That’s all we amount to.”

Satoru bitterly snorted, finding your accusation so unfair to him.

“How cruel is it that I’m the only one who has to prove this love to you? What about you? You’re terribly, horribly selfish!”

You stayed silent, looking away, caught between the scorching knives that seemed to twist your heart and conflicting emotions in it, uncertain of what to believe anymore. And you didn't really know what heartbreak was like before—

“It has been really exhausting, and I don’t want to bother anymore.”

When his gaze next met yours, dark and piercing, you realized he was no longer the same man who once promised you love and devotion.

“You're free to believe whatever truth you wish. But remember, even if you are my wife and the empress of this nation, should you commit any transgressions… I won’t hesitate to accuse you of treason, Empress.”

You have committed treason.

Satoru had conducted investigation of the sorts just to prove his point. And yet days later, no direct evidence pointing towards Megumi or Hanabi were found in that cursed necklace.

Punishment for treason is imminent death. You were well-aware of that more than anyone, but your consciousness wouldn't allow it if Megumi had to be hanged due to Satoru's antagonism.

"Your Majesty, your kindness knows no bounds," Megumi said, dropping to one knee before you and lowering his head in the throne room. Satoru had chosen not to grace any of you with his presence, leaving you alone to bid farewell to both Megumi and Hanabi.

Since then, you hadn't spoken with him, nor had he visited your chambers. It was as if he considered you nonexistent at all.

And it is really only a matter of time before he finds out.

But at the very least, you were right. It was never Megumi. That boy was fond of you, he could never. So, you shifted your gaze on the woman next to him.

"Royal Consort Hanabi. A word."

It was the cue for everyone else to exit the throne room. Now, you were faced with this woman once again, and yet one thing remained the same— you were still towering over her.

"Why did you do it?" Your calm gaze betrayed a quiet anger that was unmistakably clear. All because of this woman. It was beyond you, how despite having left your past life behind, she had somehow managed to taint your new one as well.

Hanabi looked away, a hint of shame coloring her features. "Your Majesty knows, so why do you spare me?" she asked quietly.

"How preposterous of you to think that I have spared you," you scoffed. "All this time, have you learned nothing at all from standing by Naoya's side?"

She flinched, visibly making herself smaller at your unforgiving tone, still, she dared herself to meet your eyes.

"Can I ask... why you never consider it as Emperor Naoya's doing?" she seemed more confused more than anything, even as her lips wobbled. "The two of you... you don't really hate each other, so why...?"

You didn't want to dwell on why Naoya had chosen that specific piece of jewelry to return to you. If anything, you'd consider it his final parting gift and be done with it.

But the naivety of this woman was astounding. Someone like her wouldn't last long in your seat. You let out a sigh, torn between feeling sorry for her or not.

"You have much to learn about court affairs, Hanabi. And do not think this is an act of mercy. Sending you back to Naoya is a punishment in itself—you know that by now."

Hanabi trembled where she stood, her breaths were shallow, and her hands shook slightly as she struggled to maintain composure in your presence.

Realizing it was futile to continue the conversation, you decided to conclude it.

"Know that I will never forgive you for what you have done to me." Your sharp eyes squared on her, the cold ire in your tone making her shudder.

In all the years Hanabi had known you, you had never appeared more fearsome than you did now, adorned in silks of deep blue hues, with that crown of diamonds gleaming in your head.

Then, as if sealing her fate, you delivered these parting words:

"You've always coveted what I have, and sooner or later, that will be your downfall."

The palace felt suffocating for you. After sending Hanabi away, you took a walk in the gardens, followed closely by your ladies-in-waiting.

Good heavens, what have you done? You definitely didn't regret saving Megumi, but no matter how, you had committed a great crime against your own empire. A sentence would loom over your head!

And what about your baby? Would Satoru execute you while you still had his child inside you?

The very thought made your vision tilt, and you had to lean on the wall for support. Your ladies-in-waiting were immediately clamoring against each other.

"Leave," you commanded, trying to catch your breath while doing so. "I'll… take some time to rest here."

It took you a moment to realize you had reached the pagoda that Satoru had commissioned for you. This was your first time visiting it. The structure was magnificent, towering in height and adorned with exquisite decorations, leaving you in awe.

"It's a gift to the heavens for blessing me with you and our baby."

You wanted to cry. His voice, soft and smooth, conveyed those words so easily to you. He really loved you, didn't he? What made you so unsure about that undeniable fact?

And now you had broken his heart.

Your hand reached for your belly. Though hidden by your dress, you could distinctly feel that it had become firmer these days, holding the product of your love with Satoru.

"I'm sorry, baby..." you whispered, heartbroken. "I didn't mean to drag you into this too..."

You felt nauseous, your breaths come in short pants, and you felt a headache coming. It didn't really register to you that you had crashed into the candle table, before you collected yourself and ventured deeper inside.

You just wanted a sense of peace and quiet. You would think more later, and right now, the darkness inside felt like a comforting lull for you to rest.

. . .

Or at least that was what you had intended, until you looked back and saw the swirling inferno creeping through the halls.

It didn't take long for Satoru to figure out you had really orchestrated Megumi's release.

More than his wounded pride, it was the searing pain of realizing that you truly believed he was only using you for his own benefit. It felt like an insult to everything he had done for you.

Why couldn't you see that? Just how hard is it for you to understand?

And now that it had come to this... what did you expect from him? Should he really make good on his word and punish you? It tore his heart to even consider it.

However, what was worse was… did you think he was really capable of that too?

Amidst his heartache, suddenly he heard loud commotion from outside his study, yells and cries of help— and it roused him from his thoughts that he came out of his study, only to come right into a familiar face.

"Anyone! Anyone at all!" one of your maids was running, sobbing and hysterical. "Her Majesty! Please help Her Majesty!"

"What is all of this ruckus?" Satoru demanded, catching the maid by the hand, as she stuttered in tears.

And then, everything came crashing down with the next words.

"The Empress— is trapped inside the burning tower!"

🏷️ taglist

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[selencgraphy]

— 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐒

prompt drabble series - nonverbal ways to say ‘i love you’

5 - remembering a trivial fact about them

prompts from promptingyou

PAIRING: logan howlett x gn!reader

TAGS: they/them pronouns for reader, fluff, actions speak louder than words is logan’s strong suit, tall!logan bc i love hugh jackman :)

A/N: deadpool and wolverine revived my love for logan so this is just self-indulgent bc i love him so so much. the x-men movies were my gateway into marvel so i just have to show my man some love yk? happy reading <3

WORD COUNT: 597

masterlist || request box <3

You and Logan weren’t that close. Aside from having rooms right next to each other and being co-workers, you didn’t know much about him. Rarely were you ever in a room with him when it was just you two. 

Heading over to the kitchen for a midnight snack, you stumble upon him smoking by the window. “Can't sleep either?" you asked as you quietly padded across the wood. 

Logan merely grunted in response, taking a drag of his cigar. Grabbing the tub of your favorite ice cream from the freezer, you took a seat at the counter. The tub was practically almost empty so you resorted to eating straight out of it. "Are those really any better than regular cigarettes?" you carefully asked in hopes of breaking the awkward silence—well, at least to you it was awkward. At your question, he turned over his shoulder and leaned to sit down against the window sill, his eyebrows furrowed a little deeper than they normally were.

"Haven't tried anything but these," he replied, glancing down at it before looking back at you, a hint of confusion in his eyes.

"What?"

"You're the first person who's caught me smoking inside that didn’t immediately remind me of Chuck's stupid rule."

"I mean… it is a good rule considering this whole place is built of wood," you joked, taking another bite of ice cream before speaking again. "I'm not one for rules either anyways. It'd be a bit hypocritical of me to get on your case, don't you think?"

He hummed, the tiniest smirk on his face at your nonchalance. He'd been living and teaching (begrudgingly) at the mansion for a while now, but a lot of the kids and other X-Men were still intimidated by him. His tough guy façade certainly didn’t help much but that’s just how he was used to living after being alive for almost 200 years. But that never seemed to deter you. Putting out his cigar, he started to head back to his room. "Don't stay up too late, bub," he muttered as he passed you.

"Night, Logan,” you called over your shoulder, scraping the sides of the tub as you finished it out. Throwing it away, you made a mental note to grab more whenever you went back out to get groceries.

A couple days later…

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath as you made your way down to the kitchen. It was pretty early in the day, but you weren’t one to let the time of day deter you from snacking on a few scoops of ice cream. Then you remembered. You had eaten the last bit the other night when you ran into Logan and had yet to restock. Damn.

So it came as a surprise to see yet another full tub in the freezer when you went to rummage through it to find something else to satiate your sweet tooth. A post-it was taped to the top of it, big black letters scrawled across it.

For Y/N. If you’re not them, do not touch this. - Logan

Your face brightened as you read it. Sure, it wasn’t that sweet of a message, but you’d take what you could get. Pulling it out, you realized it was the same exact flavor—your favorite flavor—and brand you loved. You’d barely spent five minutes with each other the other night, but he remembered.

“I gotta thank him later,” you thought to yourself as you sat down, your day made by the gesture. Maybe your efforts to befriend him weren’t a lost cause after all.

[lotusarchon]

nezha is a child in the show isn't he? why are you shipping yourself with a minor and writing romance with him?that's so creepy,,,, how are you talking about dynamicsimp when you're doing worst 🤮

Found this cute Nezha fanart anyways

I knew I had to deal with one of y'all eventually but I didn't think it'd be this soon. Damn, at least let me hit 100 followers first 😞

Anyways uh. Nezha's first introduction in season 3 came out in like, what, 2022? I'm assuming it is, because I started LMK in March of 2023, before s4 was released and already found the show up till s3 by then. S5 just released this year, of which we've seen a weird increase of Nezha screentime of which I'm not complaining.

Point blank. The Nezha age controversies are getting old and boring. New fans and old fans need to chill out with those issue about the age business.

1) It's confirmed the Lego Monkie Kid version of the deity known as Nezha is an adult.

2) This is a god of an Eastern religion who is still very much worshipped to our modern day. If you did your research, you should be able to take note that Nezha isn't only seen as a child god, but even portrayed as someone older. I'm not a Daoist nor Chinese, so I advise you check this blog ( @/ruibaozha ) for more information on the subject matter.

3) As is the case with modern media and adaptations, different shows will portray religious figures according to what works for their plot. In the movie Nezha 2019 (forgot the title whoops), Nezha is portrayed as a child, as we are seeing a comedic but angsty interpretation of his origins. In the Legend Of Hei, we see him portrayed as a child, assuming for comedic purposes and to bond with the MC Hei.

3.2) If LMK wanted to portray Nezha as a child like his appearances in Journey To The West, and the Fengshen Yanyi (?), you must understand then his design and personality would've been portrayed more childish or at the very least a mixture of mature and childish. We can see this by comparing LMK Nezha and TLOH Nezha = both are stern but where one acts, looks and often shows childish traits, the other acts like an exhausted 25 year old who needs therapy. LMK HAS made children in the past, as we've seen with the Lady Bone Demon's Host and in season 1 a few kids here and there as background characters. If the show wanted Nezha to be a child, I'm certain they would've given him a similar model.

4) If in the instance that, let's say, the god known as Nezha was a child, and LMK Nezha is an adult, you SHOULD separate fiction from religion. Do keep in mind that Sun Wukong is still very much worshipped, however, I have seen fans, in and outside of LMK, who have written heavy NSFW and simped for him. A god is not the same as a fictional character, because by that logic we shouldn't be simping much less writing NSFW of Wukong either, given his story in JTTW where he becomes a Buddha.

5) I do not like proshipping much like any sane person. I also HATE aging up minors in fiction just for something like self shipping or to write nsfw. I have been in fandoms before this one: Jujutsu Kaisen, Tokyo Revengers, and My Hero Academia specifically, and it makes me uncomfortable seeing porn written of actual minors with excuse of them being aged up. I'm not so hypocritical I'd dare to want to do the same, not when I'm uncomfortable with anyone else doing it. If LMK Nezha was a minor, and there were sources to even prove as well within the series he's a child, then obviously, I would NOT be shipping myself with him, much less write romantic/nsfw content with him. I'm an adult, and I don't feel comfortable with minors in general, so why would I want to write romantic content about a FICTIONAL minor??

If you can find any source that proves me wrong, I'd like for you to do so. But until then, you, and everyone else who still wants to entertain Nezha's age; please stop.

I get it. Some of you like to headcanon him as a child so as such, seeing content with him as romantic or nsfw is uncomfortable. I understand, I do; I headcanon Mei as an aroace lesbian so sometimes it's uncomfortable finding any kind of content with her being paired with others. I do understand where you're coming from with your discomfort.

But I feel like, considering season 5 and hopefully if there's a season 6, the whole thing is just dust now. S3 must've been released in 2022, so it's been nearly two years since Nezha's appearance in the show. People headcanon he's a child, and people prefer to like the confirmation he's an adult. We get it, that's what fandoms are, different views etc.

But calling people proshippers or creepy or pedophiles for not adhering to YOUR headcanons is not only fucking stupid, it's just hilarious and way too old, AND just...boring. Especially considering I feel uncomfortable around minors and hate proshipping with a passion. There's genuinely nothing wrong with liking a headcanon, but if someone likes something that isn't problematic and doesn't adhere to your preference, I think you need to breathe a bit.

I was saving this off for last however, you hit the nail on the coffin with this. There is a literal document talking about the disgusting actions of DynamicSimp. If you still choose to like them that's fine, but forgive me for pointing out how hypocritical it is for you to bring up the person who purposely shared porn with minors to someone who avoids minors like they're the rat plague of the Middle Ages. 🤔

"you talk about DynamicSimp but you're doing worst"

Do you mean writing porn for a character who is confirmed to be an adult? Do you mean ensuring that my 18+ blog isn't found by minors and if it is I'll block them? Do you mean supporting someone who's harassed others about Nezha's age?? Do you mean being an absolute creep around children?? Do you mean breaking the boundaries where people have clearly expressed discomfort? Do you mean romanticizing abuse amongst other things for an au clearly being consumed by minors with no regards or wellbeings?

I wonder who's the worst. Me, the adult who only recently turned 18 and has limited his interaction with minors outside of family members, or the however old they are person who has a literal document and their victims speaking up about their actions, and who to my current knowledge has not spoken up about this and is still posting and carrying on without a care in the world?

Well zoinks Scoob, guess we're not making outta this one alive 😟

Edit: .....*disappointed sighs* I think some people really oughta chill out in my comments. Anon, I blame this on you 😭 why did you bring this here holy fucking shit dawg.

Alright. Alright uh.

Okay, so while I do appreciate being told the reasons as to WHY Nezha was "aged up", because a writer wanted to justify shipping Wukong and Nezha...I feel like the entire, "ah, but this says, and that says here-" about Nezha's age is just ridiculous at this point.

Yes, I understand, this is justifiably weird.

However.

Has anyone else refuted Nezha's age?? And I mean the canon show writers? Has anyone working on Lego Monkie Kid made a statement saying: "This person is disgusting, LMK Nezha is a child." Because, respectfully, unless canon sources provide information on it, I'm not going off based on the fandom opinions.

I'm not happy I have to edit this post to add this, much less try to explain anything, but, oh well.

1) "Ali, you're just trying to justify yourself and keep writing for a child." Listen. I've been groomed and dealt with fucking weirdos my entire life. Trust me when I say whenever I hear about proshipping it SICKENS me to the core. I HATE proshipping. I don't care what the excuse is, proshipping is disgusting.

I'm not mentioning the interesting fellows in my comments because it's pointless and honestly to make drama over this is stupid. But I was given some context to understand where they're coming from, and I do in fact appreciate it. Justifiably I don't blame them for their annoyance/disgust towards the writer Sarah (?).

What I will say though; typically in a situation like this, I'm certain someone in the team would've made a statement about this to explain that the writer is wrong. I'd assume at least one writer, someone OFFICIALLY on the team would've denied this proclamation of Nezha being an adult. I have not seen ANYTHING that says the show denies Nezha being an adult.

2) My friend, who was also in the comments (hi), is a native Chinese and a Buddhist for six years. I also have another friend who I'm not mentioning but ALSO is Chinese and WORSHIPS Nezha. They have more knowledge than someone like me does have on this matter, and I find it really odd how people immediately cite wiki and website sources to say, "Nezha is an eternal child!", and, "No where else says Nezha is an adult."

As I've said. If there are sources including the staff from Lego Monkie Kid that claims Nezha is a child, then I am more than willing to delete any content I've made with him. Full honesty, I have no intention of keeping any content with canon, confirmed minors on my blog.

But not only have I found anything that says the official story writers deny Nezha's an adult, but my friends, who are again, both Daoist and native Chinese, are aware that he ISN'T an eternal child.

If you are Daoist and/or worship Nezha, then by all means you can tell me that what I'm doing is wrong and correct me about Nezha's age. I'm willing to listen. If you also find information where the writers claim Saraha is wrong for her statement, provide it. I'm a person that likes reasoning, and I'm willing to see reason.

3) "Ali, you're not gonna see reason you're just trying to defend yourself again-"

Okay, backstory time: last year when I joined LMK, when I myself was a minor, I thought it was okay to write nsfw content for the character who was Lady Bone Demon's Host. My friends at the time did not tell me what I was doing was bad, so of course I kept it up, until someone pointed out that Bai He (fan name) is actually a minor in the show and was also confirmed by the show's producers. I felt so disgusted about it I deleted all my posts made on my old AO3 about her (which is faeriicrafts and still up surprisingly) and offered a sincere apology to the fandom about writing nsfw content for her. I changed and learned, and now I feel grossly uncomfortable seeing anyone writing nsfw for her despite the canon confirmations.

Justifiably, if more information about Nezha is released within Lego Monkie Kid, of which it's confirmed he's a child, I am more than eager to delete everything I've written about him, and even apologize again for writing nsfw with a minor.

To be honest, I just feel uncomfortable with the comments who are denying actual Daoists for the sake of; "I've done my research, no other sources has said Nezha is an adult, you're lying about worshipping him!!"

It's uncomfortable and really off-putting how you can tell someone that about their religion. Yes, this is for you specifically, that one commenter who jumped in and on my friend. Even if she has long since stopped worshipping Nezha, she very much did once. And I've gone to actual Daoists to ask more information about Nezha and the religion in general, who has in fact confirmed Nezha isn't just a child. I get that this is the internet, people can lie about anything. But it's still uncomfortable, solely because had anyone else claimed they're Daoist or ex Daoist and agreed with your opinion, you wouldn't have said that.

I'll reopen my comments within a few minutes, but don't be a disrespectful cunt. And can you maybe not deny someone about their religion? Even if you don't believe them, that's genuinely not an excuse. Because I know damn well, had she agreed with your statement, you wouldn't have pulled that.

Gods. I can't say I'm not surprised, but I'm just impressed about the lengths people will go for something.

Anyways, I've said my piece. If official show writers (because my Daoist friends have already told me what I needed to know) claim Nezha is a child, I'll delete my stuff with him. If not, then I'm not stopping posting Nezha content.

Toodles.

[simp-ly-writes]

For All Time

Paring: 10th Doctor x Fem! Time Lord!Reader

Summary: Many, Many worlds ago you were married to the Doctor. That was until a war tore your home planet and species apart and you were part of the lucky handful that managed to make your way out into the universe- alive. As you go through many regenerations of yourself, you run into the Master, an old friend of yours that you faintly remember. He tells you of the Doctor, warns you of your spouse and from then on, you are on a mission to never interact with him. Should be easy... right?

Warnings: 3300 words. Angst with no HEA. Themes of death. Depictions of Blood.

A/N: This is my first time writing for Doctor Who and I have only watched 12 hours worth of video essay's on the series. Please be kind and I hope you all enjoy~ :)

Masterlist | Taglist Request | edited.

You were terrified of time lords, the Doctor in particular and as to not be a hypocrite, you were scared of yourself- of everything you could fuck up for all time- that you already did fuck up for all time as the Master had already reported to you all those regenerations ago.

He told you of the horrors you made, the inconsequential decisions you thought to be just so now added up to a few hundred deaths on your hands as universe's threatened to collapse and the possible elimination of dozens of species painted your hands in guilt. Your finger nails pressing into your palms as you shook your head, trying to wring the statistics out of your head. But in the sliver of a smile, his dark eyes filled your thoughts as he placed a hand on your shoulder and leaned closer to your face, tears began to well up in your eyes.

You felt his breath on your neck as he brushed your hair away from your face, drinking up your tears while whispering in your ear, "But you haven't done the worst, love." He emits a small chuckle, his head knocking slighting against your own as you lean further back into the wall for support. "It is the Doctor that damned us all and yet we are the one's to be blamed, for everything, for all time, now and forever. He has killed millions, and nearly every little lover he calls companions he takes on his tyrannical adventures."

Your voice meek, throat clogged with tears as you sniffle for air, "I thought I was the only one, old friend... I thought that- that-"

"From what I know..." he cuts you off, taking a step back, allowing you room to breath as your legs give out from underneath yourself, your back falling against the wall before you are sat on the floor. Your fingers picking away at the grout between the tiles as you count the tiles of the room, doing your best to blink away the tears. "... its just the three of us and if I can offer you a tidbit of advice form one friend to another..."

He stand at full height, leaning down to lift your chin, that sliver now a toothy grin as his fingers dig into your cheeks, pressing your lips together, his eyes flash over to them before continuing his eye contact as you wince at the force he handles you with. "...continue to run away from us all." He drops your head, as if your skin burned his own and by the time you gain the momentum to look up once more, there are no traces he ever was here- he ever exist, a mere fragment of your imagination. You pick yourself up the floor and take his advice to heart.

--

So thats how you found yourself, sat underneath an umbrella in early spring within France. You and your Tardis concluded the time to be the mid two-thousands as you tried not to let the everlasting smell of piss on the streets keep you from enjoying an early brunch.

You watched as various tourists rolled themselves out onto the streets, snapping hundreds of pictures with their digital cameras, kids pointing at various things in storefronts, leading their parents chasing after them. A small smile casted upon your features as you listened to their little feet run across the cobbled streets, cheering loudly at the sweets in the window.

The Sun begins to peek out from between the clouds as you cast your gaze down to escape its shinning rays sneaking underneath your cover. Taking a sip of your now ice-cold coffee, you jolt in your seat, unaware that it was yourself who clattered the cup to the plate, trying to set your drink down. Dropping your shoulders down, your cheeks warm as the kids from earlier snap their heads towards the noise as you begin to pat your pants dry from the spilled coffee.

You swear lightly underneath your breath, your book-ruined and the liquid threatening to ruin your pants as well. Taking a napkin from the holder, you pat yourself down before opening the book in your lap, trying to air out the pages.

But soon the book and outfit become the last of your worries as your ear twitch to the familiar mechanical wizzing sound of what could only be a Tardis. Sweat instantly forms in your palms, your eyes dart around the streets, looking, watching, waiting for his arrival. You hate to admit that the panic holds yourself still, strapped to this very chair to witness the horror about to be unleashed yet all these humans appear none-the-wiser to their upcoming demise.

And when you think all those tears you shed were now buried away yet new ones burn your vision blurry as you grip the table in wait. What of the children, the families, the lives of them all? Your brain presses, kicking into hyperdrive, asking yourself if you are ready to die. But what will he do if he finds me? And your mind goes blank, incapable of thinking of what tortures you would endure.

So you present yourself human, plastering a fake smile, bright eyes as silent tears run rivers down your cheeks. Your breathing staggered just like your hearts, threatening to exit your body and make a life for themselves. It would be better to die, you convince yourself, the words echoing through your soul, it is better to die, die, die.

--

It feels like lifetimes move as you await his presence, eyes casting down the various alleyways, ears pointed for the sounds of agony and screams in his pleasure for universal domination. "He's killed millions," the Master's voice whispers into your ear with the breeze following by the sound of two beating hearts.

It was hard to miss the way your heart slowed, matching the breaths in between his own. His steps organized in the crowd surrounding him as a woman follows just behind his every step. His hair caught you first, its frazzled appearance as if he dragged his hands through the roots a few hundred times yet no stress coated his features, not a single wrinkle or crinkle besides a smile that has you loosening your grip on the table.

His direction leads him closer towards the coffee shop you sit in front of as a child runs across his front, stepping on one of his sneakers, an involuntary gasp escapes between your painted lips yet the Doctor takes no attention nor comment to them, simply continuing his way through the crowd. You hear his voice above all the afternoon commotion, his accent catching you off guard, "Say Donna, have you ever seen Paris or the South of France? I must say that this tower of theres is nothing in comparison to some of the future civilizations I've seen, I should, I will take you to one in the future or well, when we are done here."

The woman nods along to what he says, biting her lip, a knowing smile growing across her features as if she is cooking up a line to fire back, "Well the last time I was here was with you but we didn't really get to have a getaway besides running from those martians trying to KILL US! This is much better, oh!- did you see that woman's sandwich! How about lunch?"

Your eyes are wide as she tilts her head in your direction. You embody the appearance of a deer in headlights before swiftly unfolding the newspaper on the table, doing your best to read the various headlines with plausible interest.

The Doctor hums thoughtfully, looking to where Donna's eyes had landed, his eyes narrow in of the outrageously large paper that covers your face as he leans closer to Donna, "is that newspaper big, or is the woman just small?"

Donna laughs, knocking her shoulder with the Doctor as he shuffles back, head tipped down into a playful glare. "Well, spaceman. In comparison to you, anything appears larger than life."

"Do you want that sandwich or not?" The Doctor responds, eyes already bored and looking at the various other shops and people on the street, subconsciously looking for a threat to ruin the day.

"Well, yes-"

"Then lets get you that sandwich," and with that the Doctor is taking large strides up to your table. Curiosity brimming with excitement to uncover whoever was behind that paper. His heart rate began to climb, the walk now a light job as Donna wondered whatever has gotten into the Doctor.

--

You tense in preparation, saying your grievances underneath your breath as the man reaches forward, ripping the newspaper that had gradually been pressed closer to your face as he leaned closer to you. You pick up the book in your lap, spreading the pages wide open. Wincing once your fingers trace up the spine, finding a new crack upon its surface- that too is torn out of your hands.

In a childish effort- you close your eyes, hands racing across the tables surface before feeling the soft material of a serviette. Your plate clatters against the wooden table as you rip the cloth from underneath, waving it in the air to unfold it and subsequently into his face as he audibly complains. Swiftly opening your eyes, you look through the thin material, tracing over his blurry outline and hard-to-reach features while leaning back as far as your chair allows you too. Your feet hooking under the tables legs as only two chair legs hold you from toppling over.

The man huffs, his chair scraping against the pavement in a horrifying screech as your tableware clatters to the floor, bits and pieces of porcelain scraping across your leather shoes and socks. He peers over your napkin, eyebrow raised, brown-eyes peering to see your wide ones. You watch as his other eyebrow races to match the other, a small gasp escapes between his parting lips with fingers brushing against your own. He steals away the last of your cover, casting it aside to a nearby empty table.

The Doctor leans closer to listen to your hearts beating rapidly in your chest as he casts a hand down to feel his own. By the time he looks back up at you, a charming smile has one threatening to spread across your face but the Master's words make it fall the next moment as the Doctor gently clasps your hand between his own, taking the seat behind himself, pulling you forwards to sit level.

"Hello, darling," he whispers out, unsure if you are truly you as he awaits your answer. He squeezes your hand, ushering you to respond. You hate the way the pet-name makes you feel, the memories that flood your mind and all the time in between. A moment passes between you both before an approaching fiery-headed woman shifts your attention away from one another.

"DOCTOR? DOCTOR! What in the hells do you think you're doing?! Harassing this poor woman- oh I apologize dear, I have no idea what gotten into him today. I don't want that Sandwich in particular, just any sandwich!" Donna shouts out in the Doctors face. You wait for her to take him by the ear like a tired mom yet she smacks him on the back of his head as he drops your hand to ease the oncoming bruise.

With this distraction you quickly stand, throwing an unknown amount of currency on the table before darting down the crowded Paris streets. The Doctor curses underneath his breath lightly, "You don't understand, Donna!"

"What don't I understand? You going after some random human, is she a past companion or something?" Donna asks, eyes casting towards your empty seat that the Doctor glares at.

"Thats my wife!" The Doctor outbursts, grabbing your book and paper in hand before darting off after you, Donna running swiftly after the spaceman. "YOUR WHAT?!" Donna screams out between breaths.

"MY WIFE!"

"Don't you have five of those already?" She teases but the tone is peaked with genuine curiosity.

"Well yes- no. I don't know, they were the first!" The Doctor stumbles the words out, mind a fumbled mess at the sudden shock of you.

"The first, wait. Are they..." Donna's steps come to a halt as the Doctor casts his head back, steps slowing as they regain their breath, he hands your book and newspaper to Donna who holds onto the materials tightly. "...a time lord?"

"Yes..." the Doctor says in a remorseful tone. "....Yes, they are."

--

You lost where you last parked your Tardis as you turn down road after road, cars honking as you interrupt the traffic in your maddened dash. You keep your ears peaked for the two intruders to your centuries of peace. Your mind running a mile a minute for a plan that you assure yourself to be thinking of on the fly as you take another sharp turn, flying into someones arms.

They grip you still, smelling of aftershave and coffee with a dash of honey. You take in a deeper breath, curious to find the undertones before a chuckle has you pulling away, blinking rapidly as they hold onto your elbows and pull you into an empty shop under construction. You curse when seeing those familiar brown eyes, your hands drifting over the soft fabric of his jacket, feeling the small rips and seams before pulling away. Dusting your hands off on your pants, he moves his touch up to your shoulders, giving them a light shake.

"Why are you running, is there an emergency? A planet being overtaken, a universe about to explode?" He rattles off various answers for your selection yet you chose to remain silent. Ripping yourself away from his touch, you watch as his hands flex, itching to hold onto something, to someone, before he reaches into his jacket pocket as you do the same.

Two sonic screwdrivers are presented, shoving the glowing end into one another's presences. The door slams open and shut once more as Donna casts her arms wide and behind herself, blocking any potential escape. "Alright, lets gets things settled here, we don't need to me shoving our sonic screwdrivers at each other now!" Donna announces.

You wait for the Doctor to drop his first, eyes following as his hand open, his movements slow as he guides the technology back into his coat. He nods towards you, beckoning for you to do the same, your hands shake as you press it into your pant pocket for easier access. The Doctor raises a brow to this, looking back at Donna who's sights are set on you with pity.

The Doctor takes a step forwards, you shake your head, hands raised, your voice cracking, "You. Are. A. Monster! A Monster that has destroyed lives! You are in the midst of ruining another just now. If you would PLEASE just let me walk away I can promise you that I will do nothing- a personal moral of mine-"

The Doctors eyes gloss over, memories flash over himself. His arms feel heavy, shoulders slumping forwards as he remembers holding what he thought to be the second-to-last time lord in his arms, the Master as he died- unwilling to regenerate. "But here's the thing, I don't want to just 'let you walk away,' not with how I lost the last one- not when I am so close again to what could be," the Doctor pleads sincerity, his heart shattering at your words he knows a part to be true. But to hear them coming from who he surly believes to be you, it cuts him wounds him as you continuously step away from him as he nears.

The pain, the fear in your eyes, dictating your speech, he wishes to comfort you, hand raising to capture your outstretched one yet you quickly press your hands back into your chest. Right above your heart as it covering it for an attack. Donna sternly voices the Doctors name causing the man to pause in motion. Feet posed for another step, hand outstretched in a welcoming fashion, palm stretching outwards.

"Exactly. What COULD be. Couldn't have said it better myself, Doctor," you spit his name out, copying the Master's tone. "I'd say it even makes things easier on the both of us. Now please, let. me. go. Or better yet- kill me! Kill me right here, right now! I know you want to so just DO IT!" you scream out, words chocking on tears as you cough, hunching your form over. You feel so small, so hopeless as you look over to his companion, silently asking for her to convince him.

"No," the Doctor states firmly, hands now gripped into fists as he struggles to articulate his next words, looking over at Donna for support.

"Then I am sorry," you hush out softly before jumping up with all your strength as you cast a right hook across his nose. Blood pours over your knuckles as you fling your hand to remove the bodily fluid form your skin, making a mad dash towards the door.

You shout an apology to the human companion, having to shove 'Donna' you remember her name to be, out of the way and make your way back onto the streets. The Tardis had to be close, you think to yourself- the feeling in your gut starting to swell alongside your knuckles as you hissed through the pain, flinging yourself back towards your on-the-go home and pressing towards a random position. Pleading towards the console, anywhere but here, but now, with him- please.

--

"Wa-" The Doctor began to say before gripping his noise, casting his head upwards to try and stop the onslaught of blood. Tears cascaded down his features, creating a mess across his face as the liquids dropped down to his collard shirt and suit, staining the material for good.

Donna watched your escape through the window, you paid no mind to turn around, to take one last look no matter how hard your shoulders tensed or your neck tilted until you were out of sight. Shaking her head she walks over to the Doctor, reaching around in her pockets for a napkin as she presents the thin cloth to him.

The Doctor mumbles a thanks, beginning to wipe away at his face from his reflection in the glass. The air in the room is depleting as the Time Lord struggles to choke down air from the weight heaving in his chest. Donna rubs his back, watching as his back tenses before settling yet he refuses to look at her, only looking at the direction you fled in.

A few moments passes and the Doctor and Donna had yet to move form their positions, in a light tone, nervous to cut through the heavy silence too swiftly, Donna softly speaks, "You alright?"

The Doctor stands to full height, tissue dropping to the dirty floors beneath as he kicks away a loose bunch of screws. "I'm always alright." The Doctor nods- as if hyping himself up. He begins to make his way towards the door, looking back with a hand outstretched once more.

Donnas heartbreaks then and there as the spaceman smiles at her. She can see the pain in his eyes, the remnants of tears still in the corner of his eyes and the small sniffles he does his best to hide. She softly grasps his hand, giving it a squeeze. She listens to the breath he lets out shakily before leading them back out the door and in the opposite direction of you.

↳ A/N: what did you think? :)

[olderthannetfic]

I feel like such a hypocrite reblogging all these posts about how people like male characters more than female ones even if they have similar personalities/roles/wtv, but I read about this stuff precisely because I relate to it. "People think everything men do is cool and everything women do is either weak or Mary Sue" -- yes, it's me, I'm people. It's not like I do it deliberately or I'm proud of it, but I can observe and acknowledge the empirical fact that female characters just produce a very different emotional reaction in me than male ones.

I guess I like the safe distance of projecting onto characters who 1. are more obviously not me and 2. are judged less harshly than me (bc everything men do is cool) and that's not my fault, it's the patriarchy's, but then I can't challenge it. I can't say "women can be just as cool and we shouldn't be judged more harshly", I can only say "yea women suck let me forget I am one" like I'm still in my 9gag nlog tween phase -- or well, I can *say* the former, but I keep *acting and feeling* like the latter. And btw I'm not just talking about consuming media, where all you can choose from is what's on offer; I'm also talking about creating my own fanfics, which are all about men.

--

The reason a lot of those posts are so obnoxious is that they're just people wallowing in guilt and projecting.

The fact is, lots of people do like female characters. There's plenty of fiction about women. There's plenty of fic about women. There is not, in fact, some grand, existential problem where nobody cares about the ladies. If you aren't seeing this fic or original media, that's different from it not existing.

Two, your own fanfics? FFS. If you consume media that is a sausagefest, then of fucking course, your fic will be about dudes.

Just the other day, I spotted a story I hadn't read by a fantastic fantasy novelist. I hadn't looked her up much beyond buying her trilogy, and what do you know: she actually says who she is in fandom openly!

I was entertained to find out that her big thing is kylux. You really wouldn't guess based on her pro work, which is about a harried female doctor taking care of supernatural patients. I remember those books being a refreshing change from my usual diet of nothing but slash fic. It's not just that there's a female lead but that they take a nuanced look at female characters.

Personally, as a writer, I wasn't ready to write much about women until I was better at writing overall, and my more self inserty characters aren't usually going to be women anyway unless they're like Julia from the Hilary Tamar series.

--

If you're uncomfortable with yourself, you can try to change, sure.

But fandom is full of this obnoxious plague where people think that it's the job of each person to make there be more female characters. This isn't necessary. Even if we want media or fic to be more balanced overall, it doesn't follow that each person needs to produce a balanced body of work.

Why should you in particular care about female characters?

--

But beyond all that, oh my fucking lord, I am so tired of that species of post that's like "Gosh, why is slash fandom, where people go to be horny over dudes and/or have self inserty feelings about them, not more full of stuff about ladies? It's so tragic how we all want to get rid of our boobs and wear men's clothing and be addressed as sir, just like all the other girls. What's up with that? It must be misogyny."

With a totally straight face.

Every god damn time.

[squinch-depraved]

schlatt x single mom!reader part 1 (aside from my post about how you met)

(this will be going up on my ao3 once it's ready, i'll probably edit it and format it differently and stuff so don't be surprised if it's a lil different but tumblr gets the first version)

(if anyone has an idea for a title for this series lmk pls eek)

even though daphne’s alarm clock went off at the same time every morning with the same exact song like, well… clockwork, it still infuriated you to no end. having to wake up to “crazy frog” every damn day since you made the mistake of showing it to her almost a year ago now was bad, but what was worse was how for the past few weeks, you would stub your toe or shin or whatever it may be on one of the dozens of packed up boxes strewn about the cramped studio apartment you shared with your daughter on your way to turning off the godforsaken hello kitty alarm clock. if it weren’t so special to the both of you, you would have chucked it out of one of the two tiny windows you had ages ago.

“up, daphydil. we gotta be at the cafe in 20, opening’s in 2 hours. now, c’mon girlie,” you gently coaxed her out of bed. she was small for a five-year-old, golden brown ringlets messily framing her face and hanging in front of her forever wild eyes. a soft smile played at your lips as you stroked her hair. “there’s my beautiful girl. alright, can you be ready in 10 minutes? i bet you can’t. i bet you can’t so much that if you are ready to go in 10 minutes, shoes and everything, i’ll let you ride on my back all the way to the store. does that sound good?” daphne grinned mischievously and nodded.

“can i have a muffin for breakfast at the store?” she asked.

must be a good day, you thought. she’s talking.

“of course, bear. i’ll make the blueberry ones like you like for both of us, how ‘bout that?”

“okay. stop taking up my 10 minutes, please.”

you laughed and rose off her bed. “that’s fair. the clock starts now, daph, gogogo!” you set a timer on your phone and chuckled to yourself again as she raced to her pile of boxes to pick out an outfit. she had the most eccentric taste for a kindergartener. well, she would be in kindergarten. you had yet to find a school that worked for her— sure, she had only tried preschools, but the amount of other kids there combined with the lack of your presence sent her into a shutdown for almost a week each time. so you decided to homeschool her. school didn’t start for another week, so you still had time to get things sorted. but it was going to be extremely challenging, running the cafe, teaching her, getting moved into the new apartment, and all the other stuff you had to attend to.

for a split second as you walked back over to your own pile of clothes, the man from yesterday flashed through your mind. you couldn’t stop yourself from going over his features while you changed into working clothes; something about him made you want to give him a chance. and so, before you knew it, you were responding to his “thanks again” text he had sent once you parted ways.

you: schlatt. if you’re free, meet us at this address for breakfast. would love to talk. if not, we’re there all day. thanks.

with that, you sent him the location of the store and chucked your phone onto the bed, hissing in regret and running a hand through your hair. the embarrassment was short lived, though, as almost immediately your phone dinged with a response.

jesus, eager much?

but being the hypocrite that you are, you dove for the phone, just as excited as he was.

schlatt: hey!! yeah, sure, i can be there in maybe an hour. see you then!

taking deep breaths, you slid your phone into your back pocket and strapped on your work boots, grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder.

“i’m ready.”

“fuck!! oh, jesus, daph, i’m sorry,” you panted. “you scared the shit out of me, girl, you walk too quiet. alright, let me grab a few last things and we’ll go.” she nodded, smiling, and stepped out of your way. after you had locked the door behind you both, she raised her arms as if asking to be picked up and made a grabbing motion. with a dramatic sigh and a roll of your eyes, you squatted down and helped daphne climb on top of your back. once she was settled, you began the trek down the street to the cafe.

you wished more than anything you could see the world through daphne’s eyes. to her, pigeons were fascinating creatures that she could spew off facts about for hours. she was so full of knowledge and so willing to share it; it was how she showed her love. to her, a piece of trash on the ground could be turned into an accessory for a hat, or a decoration, or whatever it may be. she was endlessly creative and resourceful (where she got that from, you had no idea). to her, her mother was a hero. and, god, how you envied her ability to see you that way.

“we’re here!” you announced as you turned the key in the lock and stepped into the dark building. flicking on the lights, you leaned down and let daphne hop off your shoulders. “smells like coffee.”

“i hate the smell of coffee,” daphne mumbled.

“me too, bear. now, c’mon, we gotta get going!! we’re opening soon!”

she began her routine of sweeping the dining area first, and then the kitchen, and then the bathrooms while you turned on all the machines and let a few employees in the back entrance to help start everything up. opening always goes quicker than closing, so it wasn’t long before you opened the doors and let the regulars in.

but among them was schlatt. somehow you had forgotten he was coming, and daphne lit up when she saw him walk in.

“funny man!” she yelled, dropping the tongs she was holding and sprinting around to meet his fistbump from her station at the muffin display.

“daph!! now i gotta wash those again,” you grumbled. “hey, schlatt.” you sheepishly finished wiping down the counter and scanned the store for any customers. luckily, it was saturday, so there were only a few people already seated and enjoying their food; you had some time to talk before the next rush came in.

“child labor, y/n?? really?” he joked, eyeing the menu above you.

“it’s not child labor if you went through labor to have the child,” daphne spoke, repeating a phrase you had said in passing once to a friend.

“oh my god!! daphy, please, can you go make sure the mug shelf is all straight?”

she nodded, glancing at schlatt one last time before she left. he was trying to hold in his laughter, but let out a sputtering chuckle once she walked away.

you closed your eyes and took a breath before speaking. “i’m so sorry. i swear i said that once. like, genuinely one time and she says that whenever someone comments on her working. she’s too smart for her own good, i don’t know what to do with her.”

“you know, you do an awful lot of apologizing when there’s nothing really to be sorry for. she’s hilarious, from what i’ve seen. why do you always try to defend her?”

your face went hot and you stammered a few times. “buy me a drink first, damn, dude…” with a huff, you went back to scrubbing the spotless counter.

“i- fuck. i’m sorry. that’s too much. let me start over, please?” he leaned in a bit, resting his elbow on the surface between you. when you gave him a short nod, he sighed a bit with relief and nodded his head towards a blueberry muffin. “can i get one of those?”

you couldn’t help but grin at his choice of pastry as you packaged it. “anything to drink?”

“what’s your coffee order?”

“three cans of diet coke. i don’t drink that shit,” you tried to jest but it sounded bitter.

he blinked a few times and nodded. “good, me neither. i was willing to, though, let that be known.”

with a laugh, you replied, “noted. here, take a seat and i’ll bring you a lemonade? daph’s idea, she thought it would be refreshing to keep in stock for the heathens like us who don’t drink bean juice.”

“sounds good. i’ll be over here,” he called as he walked towards a table hidden away in the corner. you couldn’t stop smiling to yourself as you poured two lemonades, thanking the stars above you remembered to actually make some this morning. usually nobody ordered any until the afternoon.

setting the two glasses on the table as you slid into the seat across from him, you shot one final glance at your assistant manager, who was running the counter while you took a few minutes to talk with schlatt. luckily, she was too busy with a customer asking for a refill to make a face at you and your new potential suitor.

“holy shit, that’s fancy lemonade. is that mint on top?”

“yeah, daph says it ‘enhances the flavor profile,’ or some shit. she likes food network a lot.”

he eyed the green sprig and took a cautious sip, eyebrows raising once he made a decision on the flavor. “she’s really smart, man. i never woulda thought of this. how old is she?”

“five. she has autism; she’s always been crazy genius. i don’t know how to keep up with her, she’s already smarter than me,” you chuckled quietly. “she’s so creative, too. i can’t find a school good enough to teach her things, she has a hard time being away from me and it’s just a whole thing. speak of the devil, actually.” daphne was skipping across the dining area and sat down in the seat next to you. “hey, bear!”

“i’m not a devil, mama.”

“it’s an expression, baby. remember? like, ‘easy as pie?’”

“oh yeah. because we tried to make pie and it went really bad.”

you sighed, smiling, and rested your head in your hands. “yes, bear. ‘speak of the devil’ just means, ‘here comes the person we were just talking about!’”

daphne pulled out a notebook from her apron pouch and took a pen from your shirt pocket to write down her new phrase.

“what’s that?” schlatt asked her. “you’re five and you know how to write??” you opened your mouth to tell him, but daphne beat you to it.

“i like to write things down so i can talk better.”

“i think you talk just fine, personally.”

both of you flicked your eyes up to squint at him, curling your mouths in the same look of confusion and intrigue.

“oh my god, you two look identical making that face, that’s hilarious,” he mumbled through a mouthful of muffin. at the same time, daphne and you side-eyed each other and started laughing.

“mama says i talk just fine too, but nobody else ever did. now two people think i talk good. maybe you could be my dad,” she wondered aloud. you choked on your lemonade and slammed it back onto the table, spilling some onto the old, damaged wood.

“okay, daph. can you go get me some paper towels from the back to clean this up and then go see if anyone needs help putting sprinkles on the donuts?”

“i already looked, the donuts are done. but the syrups need refilling.”

“okay, go do that, bear.”

“mhm.”

she skipped away, oblivious to what she had just started, and returned a moment later with a roll of towels to clean up. it was silent until she left for the second time.

“you’re gonna trust a five-year-old to refill syrup bottles?”

“she’s actually steadier than i am. she came up with, like, a whole system, it’s really cool. and she’s not by herself, we have a highschooler that’s working with us for the summer, she helps her.”

thank god that’s the first thing he brought up.

“mm. listen, i understand how kids are, we don’t have to talk about what she just…”

“yeah. thanks. she’s, um… she just kinda says what’s on her mind; i can’t stop her.”

“i get it. so, uh,” he rotated his now half-empty glass a few times as he went over what to say in his mind. “why does your nametag say ‘owner?’”

with a glance down at your badge, you slunk down in your chair. “this is my parents’ store. they always wanted me to take over, and i kind of didn’t have a choice after mom fell down the stairs over there. they used to live above the cafe, now they’re in a home and i have to run this dump. at least i get to move out of my studio and into this place, though. if i can ever find the time to actually get my stuff from one place to another.” you sounded more and more dejected as you went on, unable to meet his gaze.

“i can help you move,” schlatt offered smoothly. you smiled, but shook your head.

“nah, man, we have a lot of stuff. it’d be too much to ask of you.”

“shut the fuck up, it’s fine. look, how about we make a trade? i’ll help you move if you let me take you out on a date.”

you blinked a few times in confusion as your face heated up. “m-maybe, dude. i dunno. look, we’re in a rush now, i’ve gotta get behind the counter and try to help my employees get this under control. i’ll come back in a bit.” you gestured to the line that was almost out the door and rose from your seat.

“lemme help!”

his words stopped you in your tracks. “what??”

“let me help,” he repeated, “it’s clear you need it, you’ve got three guys besides you and one of them is a toddler.”

he had a point. flustered, you waved for him to follow you. “just put on an apron and wash your hands.”

the rush of patrons took about an hour to deal with; they just kept coming. schlatt handled everything with grace, upselling people on pastries when they only ordered a coffee and making casual conversation with the usual customers that came in to ask about you and your family.

he was so much better at dealing with chaos than you thought he would be. for some reason, you were expecting him to dip out as soon as he could. it was hard to picture him wanting to hang around after learning about you and how complicated you were. but for some unknown reason, he stayed. you watched him with a soft smile on your face as he undid his apron and hung it back up before stepping around to the other side of the counter.

“wasn’t so bad,” he teased, flicking his head towards the lemonade dispensers. “gimme another one of those.” you pushed the hand that was extending a credit card towards you away and turned around to grab a to-go cup.

“you kickin’ me out?” he asked, holding a hand to his chest in mock offense.

“i can’t work right with you here. need to think. so, i guess, just… show up here at 8 tonight wearing something nice and ready to take me somewhere. you’re gonna help me move my stuff this weekend.” unable to look him in the eyes as your face burned, you handed him the drink and quickly crossed your arms when he took it.

“i am, huh?” he was grinning as he took the straw between his teeth.

“yes.” you swept some crumbs away with your foot and glanced at him for a split second.

“alright, y/n. you like steak?”

“i guess. haven’t had it in years, it’s too expensive…” you mumbled.

“perfect. i’ll see you at 8, toots. bye, daphne!” he waved to the girl who was sitting at the table with an elderly woman sketching something in her notebook.

“bye, funny man!” she called back, not looking up from her drawing. the woman across from her looked shocked at her words.

“bye, schlatt!” you waited until he was down the street before jumping up and down a few times and pumping your fists in the air.

“got a date?” the woman watching daphne asked across the nearly empty store.

“uhm. yeah, actually, i do, mrs. reid,” you stuttered.

“need me to watch daphne for you?”

“yeah, that would be super helpful, actually.” you brought her a new cup of tea and traded it for her old one. “on the house.”

“she’s been talking a lot more.”

running one hand through your hair, you sighed and sat down next to daphne. “yeah, we’ve been working on it a lot. something about schlatt makes her open up. anything to say, bear?”

she just stuck her tongue out in concentration and continued drawing pigeons.

“that’s okay, daphy. you don’t ever have to talk if you don’t want to.” with a gentle pet of her head, you stood up and walked back behind the counter to help a customer that had just come in. you were unable to stop yourself from running over the events of the morning in your head, focusing on how schlatt would smile at you and how he seemed genuinely interested in what you had to say.

you just have to be careful, you kept telling yourself. don’t get your hopes up.

it was too late. you couldn’t help it; your hopes were high. he made you feel… normal again. it had been almost six years since you felt that way. now you were just praying it would last, even if for only a night.

[lovelyo]

Season 3 part 2 will be Ass. Let me Tell You Why.

Cause in the end, Penelope, Lady Whistledown, the one who has left devastation in people’s lives will get all what she wants. The man that she wants, the attention that she wants, the family she always wanted to be(so envious of them she talked shit about them ), will get her best friend back, might have the heir for that dumbass Featherington plot line, might get the Queen’s pardon and above all else, will most likely not give up LW cause they made LW such an integral part of the show.(so in that case, she’ll be even more filthy rich)

And if we go by leaked spoilers, it is said that Colin will be mad at Penelope for like 1 episode until Kanthony talks some “sense” into him. So that just tells me Kanthony will be OOC because there’s no damn way Anthony would let that beast comment about his wife slide.

There are no stakes when it comes to this season cause we all know how it’s finna go down. If Penelope gets any type of consequences, then her very undeserved HEA is doomed so everything is going to have to go her way for the already idiotic plot to make some form of sense. It’s like the love triangle in part 1, what the hell was the point of Lord Debling when everyone and their ancestors knew Colin and Penelope were end game? So we can see Colin’s cringe angst? If we already know the answer to the love triangle, there’s no point. The “find you a husband” plot line was stupid as shit anyway, but it’s whatever now.

Ugh, then we have to sit through more awkward love scenes between asshat 1 and 2

Eloise threatening Penelope with her LW identity is going to amount to nothing cause we know Penelope isn’t gonna receive any comeuppance. Matter of fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if they made Eloise apologize to Penelope for…🤷🏾‍♂️🤷(let’s apologize to the toxic friend for not dealing with their toxicity)

For Penelope to have a happy ending, she has to get away scot free and that’s what boils my blood. I hate in media and literature when a character goes around, creates chaos and receives nothing for it or just a slap on a wrist. I’ve noticed an increase in it lately too. Also, I’m tired of writers not severing their bias from their writing. I’ve been encountering many series lately where the writer(s) have favoritism towards a specific character and gives them the easy route, bends the world for them and pull punches just because they like them so much. It’s really aggravating cause you see everyone else getting put through the wringer and then you see the favored character walking through Candyland. It hurts the story, the character, and frankly makes you hate the character.

Everyone around Penelope is gonna act brain dead in order for Penelope to get what she wants and I’m not here for it. Even the general audience ain’t for it. The only people cheering this madness are the asylum patients called Polin fans with delusions that Penelope deserves the world.

I’m not even looking forward to Francesca and John’s story cause of the Poolin fecal matter I’ll have to swim through to get there. At this point, I’m might just watch spoilers of part 2 cause it’s not worth it.

P.S. Watch Cressida get the short end of the stick cause she’s the “bully” of the show and Penelope is the “victim”. Watch them break Creloise because of the “I don’t want you hanging around Eloise” subplot which will ultimately fuel Eloise and Penelope becoming friends again. Also, Penelope and Cressida competed for Lord Debling just for Penelope to go “sike” and marry Colin so she wasted Debling’s time and made Cressida feel like shit because she wasn’t chosen. P.S.S- Polins are huge ass hypocrites cause they ragged on Eloise being privileged and having “everything” but are silent about Penelope being privileged. By the end of this season, Penelope will basically have everything, even more so than Eloise, but sure, Penelope is definitely not privileged 😑. Penelope is privileged inside the world and outside by production, why are we denying this?

[maxdibert]

Hi! Could you tell me your top 5 least favorite Harry Potter characters and why?

My 5 most hated characters in Harry Potter are:

5 - Molly Weasley: I can’t stand this woman. I can’t stand how she acts like a morally superior, pure-blood yet holds endless prejudices, especially (and mostly) toward other, younger women. I don’t like her tradwife vibe, and I don’t like how overbearing and suffocating she is. Seriously, in real life, I’d feel the urge to tell her off—she’s that typical annoying woman who doesn’t know where the boundaries are.

4 - Remus Lupin: Zero sympathy for a man almost forty who got a 24-year-old girl pregnant and then abandoned her. Remus Lupin is a coward and a piece of trash, a bullying accomplice who keeps his head down regarding his own actions and needs a 17-year-old to teach him a lesson in manhood. I really wish Tonks had left him and taken off with Teddy to get as far away as possible from that pathetic excuse for a person.

3 - Dumbledore: Starting with the fact that the entire problem of the story basically stems from his irresponsibility with Tom Riddle, which already showed that he was a terrible teacher. He only shows concern for students who can serve his purposes or suck up to him, and his involvement throughout the story shows a moral stance I find nauseating. I mean, he’s a guy who has the nerve to lecture his former students who “chose the wrong path,” but when those same students were under his care, he constantly neglected and rejected them just because they didn’t belong to a certain house. He had the audacity to call Severus Snape “miserable” when it was Dumbledore himself who allowed Snape to be bullied and almost killed without lifting a finger to stop it or punish the bullies. This same Dumbledore scolds Draco Malfoy for not trusting him when from Draco’s first day at Hogwarts, all he saw from the old man was favoritism toward a certain house and certain students, completely ignoring the rest. Honestly, I’d have banned him from teaching. There’s a lot said about Snape as a teacher, but Dumbledore was responsible for everything, allowed terrible things to happen, and turned his back on many vulnerable children and teenagers. Then he acted all surprised when they ended up in bad places. Screw him, hypocritical old man.

2 - Ginny Weasley: The “I’m not like other girls,” the “shut up, Hermione, you don’t know anything about Quidditch,” the “everyone look at me, I hex people, I’m one of the boys, I’m not vain but I’m hot, but I’m not prissy,” the “I make fun of girls who are pretty, flirty, and feminine because I’m a textbook pick-me girl” who is shoved into the end of the series. She’s a character who didn’t matter at all throughout the story; she’s barely mentioned in some books, but suddenly she’s Harry’s love interest because J.K. Rowling needed all her characters to end up married with 468749284 kids, and Harry needed to be part of the Weasley family. So, they had to do something. Ginny is a terrible character, going from irrelevant to some sort of Mary Sue who even the Slytherins drool over and who, of course, is not a “typical girl” because being a “typical girl” in Rowling’s world is somehow the original sin. So, she’s great at sports, hexes people, pulls pranks because she’s so cool, uh uh uh, she’s not like the others, uh uh uh, but she has internalized misogyny that you can smell from here to China. Honestly, someone should have slapped her for being so damn stupid.

1 - James Potter: There’s nothing I haven’t already said about James Potter. He’s a character who really grinds my gears because they try to sell him as some kind of hero, but he was just a spoiled rich kid who decided to torment a poor, vulnerable boy simply because that boy was friends with his crush. He used his social power and status to get away with all the crap he pulled, attacked in groups, lied to his girlfriend saying he’d stopped bullying people when he really hadn’t, and when he was supposed to be locked up in a house with his wife and son, he was off fooling around with his best friend. James Potter was an ass, and defending him is defending classism, elitism, and whitewashing social classes. I’m not going to explain why.

[corroded-hellfire]

As You Wish - Eddie Munson x Reader, Part 2

This was a collaboration with my dearest @munson-blurbs 💚

Summary: After you and Eddie have given into your feelings for one another, complications arise that were never part of your fantasies.

Note from Red: The love I received for part one of this story blew me away. I absolutely could not believe it. It was a labor of love and the fact that so many of you wanted more just made it even better. Thank you all for your love and kind messages. Feel free to keep requesting stories from this universe 💕

Note from Bug: I’m so grateful that Red allowed me to collaborate with her on this amazing series. I hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: smut, p in v, unprotected (wrap it up), infidelity, age gap (reader is 20, Eddie is 32)

Words: 7k

Part One | All stories in this verse

“Fuck, Eddie!”

You’re in the back of his car—correction, Brittany’s car, since she’d told him to bring it to the shop and fix a busted taillight. If it was anyone else, you would’ve assumed she’d asked him, but with Brittany, you knew it was a demand. You straddle Eddie’s waist, his grease-smudged coveralls and plaid boxers shucked down to his ankles; your skirt is pushed up to your hips, panties somewhere on the floor. Eddie had practically ripped them off once you two were alone. 

Eddie’s lunch break happened to coincide with the end of your classes for the day, so you’d happily gone to visit him at work. When his eyes first landed on you and dipped down to your skirt, you knew what you were going to spend the hour doing. 

It had been two weeks since the night you first slept together, and it was the happiest two weeks you could ever remember having. Of course, the kids didn’t know what was going on, so it was important to both of you to keep up the façade of your usual relationship in front of the boys. Since Brittany came home from work shortly after Eddie, that didn’t give the two of you any time alone without the boys around. That meant there were stolen kisses, longing looks, or lingering touches when the boys weren’t paying attention. Brittany knew, obviously. She knew from that first night when she’d come out of the master bedroom and practically threw your jeans in your face and all you did was wink at her. What could she say, though? Nothing that wouldn’t make her a hypocrite along with an adulteress and pathological liar. 

Eddie’s thrusting up into you now, pinning your hips down so he can get impossibly deep inside you. “Holy shit, sweetheart,” he pants, sucking a harsh bruise into your chest. “Keep sayin’ my name like that and you’ll make me blow my load.”

“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie,” you moan; half teasing him and half because he just feels so damn good. You bounce on his cock, matching his rhythm. He’s already given you two orgasms, and you’re approaching your third. His thick finger makes its way to your clit, rubbing quick circles over it, and you cry out at the overstimulation. “P-Please, Eddie; can’t take much more.” 

“You’ll—fuck—take whatever I give you,” he orders through gritted teeth, but his eyes tell you that he doesn’t want to hurt you. You dig your nails into his shoulders, bracing yourself for him to quicken his pace so he can finish. 

“Eddie,” you moan out again—and he wasn’t lying before. The sound of you saying his name again has his hips snapping up against yours, and the feeling of his cock twitching against your walls lets you know he’s about to come. His finger keeping a strong pressure on your clit, you bury your face in his neck as you feel your orgasm start to wash over you. “Fuck, I’m coming.”

It’s all Eddie needs to hear before he’s spilling inside of you, hips stuttering against your own as he works you both through the pleasure. You press kisses against the side of Eddie’s neck as you start to come down from your high, smiling against his sweaty skin. His hands loosen their grip on your hips, and instead of the bruising pressure he now rubs his fingers up your sides. 

“Y’with me, baby?” He smiles, kissing you again. This time, his touch is tender and loving, a stark contrast to his animalistic hunger just moments earlier. “God, you’re so beautiful when you come for me. You’re always beautiful, but, I mean, damn.” He licks his lips, making you giggle. “I’m the luckiest guy in the world to be with you, I swear.”

“Funny,” you say, resting your head against his shoulder. “I lay in bed at night thinking about how I’m the luckiest girl in the world. After I make myself come while thinking of you, that is.”

“Of course,” Eddie says with a chuckle. “Not gonna need to do that tonight, huh? Did I wear you out, pretty girl?” His calloused hands against your soft skin have goosebumps breaking out along your flesh. 

“Yes,” you say, body still thrumming from the three orgasms. Picking your head up from his shoulder, you give him a sly smile. “Not bad for an old man.”

“Old man?!” he sputters, faking offense. “Baby doll, I’m 32 years young.” You stick your tongue out at him, reveling in the giddiness that being with him brings, and he leans over and licks your nose. 

“Ew!” You can’t stop laughing, making it nearly impossible to kiss him like you want. “You boys never grow up, huh?”

Eddie flashes you a shit-eating grin. “Nope!” He smacks your ass and helps you readjust your skirt. “C’mon, we can split a sandwich for lunch. Bet my girl worked up an appetite.” He winks at you, and your stomach flutters at the words my girl. There’s a pang of disappointment with it, too, because you’re not really his girl. If you were, you wouldn’t be relegated to fucking in secrecy. 

“Um, Eddie?” you murmur as he starts to open the door. “I’m, um, missing something.” When he looks at you with a puzzled expression, you whisper, “have you seen my panties?”

“Oh, shit,” he says, hand abandoning the door handle. He helps you look around the floor of the car, barking out a laugh when neither of you finds them. “What the hell?”

“How did they just disappear?” you ask, brow pinched in concern. Standing up as much as you can in the cramped space, you lean into the front seat to look. Eddie glances up and abandons the search when he gets a look at your pussy, his cum still leaking out.

“Fuck, what a view,” he muses. Looking over your shoulder at him, you roll your eyes and plop back down in the seat next to him. You swat him on the chest, and he catches your wrist, leaning in to press kisses to the side of your face as he laughs. “Think you’re gonna have to go home and get a new pair before you pick the boys up from school. And maybe some pants instead of that skirt, too. Unless you want me pulling you into my room and telling the boys I have to have a nice, long talk with you.”

“Hmm,” you grin, biting your lower lip. “It would be nice to have sex in a bed instead of the backseat of a car.” Of her car, nonetheless. 

Eddie laces his fingers through yours and pulls you towards his chest. “How about,” he starts, leaning his head on the headrest, “I get us a hotel room one of these days. We stay up all night, sleep in real late, and then order room service for breakfast in bed.”

“That sounds incredible,” you agree, bringing your lips to the back of his hand. “When can this little vacation happen?”

“This weekend?” he suggests, but the light in his eyes dims as quickly as it appears. “Shit, wait. I told Brittany I’d wait at home for the plumber while she…does whatever the fuck, with whoever the fuck.”

Brittany. Brittany Brittany Brittany. You want to feel sympathy for him, but you just can’t. A scream lingers in your throat, but you swallow it down. “No, I get it.” But you don’t. You don’t understand how he can have someone who cares about him, who loves him, right in front of him, and continue to stay with the woman who breaks his heart time and time again. 

“Rain check, baby? I promise I’ll make it up to you.” He gives you those puppy dog eyes that you’re pretty sure could have him getting away with murder. You hate that it works on you so well, but it does. 

“Guess since you just gave me three orgasms, I’ll say okay.” Even if you don’t want to. But for now, you’ll let it go. “Now, where’s that sandwich?”

The rain outside provides a calming sound as you’re curled up on the Munson couch, Ryan tucked into your side as he reads to you from his favorite book. He’s so proud that he got an A on his spelling test today and his excitement is contagious. So, when he asked if you wanted to know what his favorite book was about, of course you’d said yes. Or rather, his favorite book this week.

“When the puppy ran down the street, the little boy chased him,” Ryan reads to you. Luke is sitting on the carpet near your feet, tongue poked out in concentration as he fashions his Legos together to make, what you assume, is supposed to be a fire truck. 

The doorknob rattles and your stomach jumps for joy as Eddie makes his way inside. He shakes his hair out like a dog coming out of the bath, and it makes both the boys giggle. You just watch him adoringly and he shoots a wink your way when he notices. 

“My boys!” He holds his arms out wide, and Luke and Ryan bolt over and give him a giant hug. “How were our little rascals tonight, baby—uh, babysitter?” His cheeks flush red as he realizes his slip-up; luckily, the boys don’t seem to notice. 

You clear your throat. “Just the absolute worst,” you joke, watching their little jaws drop at your response. “Destroyed the house, yelled and screamed the whole time, and refused to do any of their homework.” You hold out your hand, keeping a straight face. “Just pay me and consider this my resignation.”

“My angels would never!” Eddie gasps, flinging his arms around your torso and pulling your back to his chest. “Boys, don’t let her leave!” Ryan and Luke cackle with laughter, each grabbing one of your legs and clinging on for dear life. 

“I’m under attack!” You unsuccessfully try to shake the kids off, inadvertently pressing your ass to Eddie’s groin. You’d put on a new pair of panties after your lunchtime tryst, but you kept the same skirt. 

Luke grips tighter, his hands now on your thigh. “Hey, Gollum,” Eddie says to him, breaking character for a second, “watch where you’re putting your grubby paws.” Luke nods and brings his hands back towards your knee. 

“Thanks,” you whisper to Eddie, your voice barely audible. 

“Gotta look out for my girl,” he murmurs in your ear, and you freeze at the pet name. The words sound so lovely coming out of his mouth, directed towards you. But there’s still this little voice in the back of your head telling you that it’s not true. And for once, that voice is right. 

“Okay, okay,” you say, looking down at the boys. “You got me! I’ll stay!” Ryan and Luke release you, cheers of their victory being shouted as they dance around you. Eddie’s grip loosens on you, and you step out of his arms, crouching down to be at the same level as the boys. “Homework done?” You look at them and they both nod their heads. “Baths?” They both give you sheepish looks and you’ve gotten your answer. “Why don’t you go take your baths now? That way after dinner you can play a game with daddy?” The boys both give their dad excited looks before they slip down the hall and towards the bathroom. 

“Volunteering me to play games, huh?” Eddie asks, snaking his arms around your hips once the bathroom door can be heard closing. He pulls his body against yours and your nose wrinkles up when you see all the dirt and oil on his blue coveralls. 

“You need to take that thing off,” you say. Immediately, there’s a spark in Eddie’s eyes and a smile’s already on your face before he’s done anything. But you know the crazy tactics his mind comes up with, so you’re curious. 

“Take it off, huh?” Eddie says, taking a few steps back from you. His hand goes to his zipper, and he starts to pull it down at a glacial pace. “This would be better if I had some music.”

“Should I put on Madonna? Or maybe Billy Joel?” you tease. His eyes narrow at you as he gets the coveralls down his shoulders. Once his arms slip out, you have to admit that this pseudo-striptease is working for you. Eddie recognizes he’s got you now, and he starts to swing his hips back and forth, which just makes you burst out into giggles.

“What?” he asks, body never pausing in its movements. 

“Babe, you know I adore you. You’re handsome, you’re kind, you’re hilarious, a great dad. But you can’t dance.” The laughter spilling out of you has Eddie joining in as well. “It was hot until then.”

“Fine,” he says as he stills his hips. “I’ll just take my clothes off for you then.” You raise your eyebrows and cross your arms over your chest, ready to watch the show unfold in front of you. It’s hard for him to find a sexy way to step out of the coveralls, so he just kicks them off and to the side. When he takes his t-shirt off, he steps forward towards you, rolling the shirt until it looks like a long piece of rope. He brings it to the small of your back and uses it to pull your body up against his. 

He smirks down at you and you’re just about to lean in for a kiss when the front door opens. Both you and Eddie turn to look and see Brittany coming in. She slips a raincoat off and hangs it on a peg near the door. When she turns, she freezes as she eyes the two of you. Eddie shirtless, you pressed flush up against him. 

“Please tell me the boys aren’t seeing this bullshit?” she asks, as if she suddenly has an interest in the well-being of her children. 

“No,” Eddie huffs at her. “They’re taking a bath.”

Her cold eyes scan you up and down before she scoffs and makes her way back towards the master bedroom.

“So, uh,” you back away, letting your gaze drop to the ground, “mood officially ruined.”

“Yeah,” Eddie sighs, running a hand through his curls. “I’m sorry; you should get going.” He picks up the discarded coveralls and digs into his pocket for his wallet, handing you a twenty. 

You nod and accept the money, cheeks burning with embarrassment. What, were you expecting an invitation to dinner after his wife just caught you about to suck face? “See you tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” he affirms. His expression seems lost, though you can’t quite pinpoint it exactly. You wonder if he feels the same heartbreak as you. 

Eddie walks you to the door, giving you one last kiss before you go. It’s soft and sweet, but there’s something tainting it. After Eddie closes the door behind you and locks it for the night, he starts on dinner. The meal goes surprisingly well for an evening in the Munson household. There’s no shouting, no arguing, and Brittany even asked Luke about school. The little boy was clearly shocked but proceeded to tell her about the hamster someone brought for show and tell today. Tucking the boys into bed was suddenly a team effort, more than Brittany’s usual quick kiss on the cheek before practically shoving them into their rooms. 

Once they’re both in bed, Eddie grabs a towel and heads into the bathroom for a shower. He closes the door and turns the water almost as hot as it can go. He steps in and does his usual routine. Quick rinse of the body, grab the soap and suds up, then grabs his dick in his hand and starts to think about you. 

The way you showed up at the shop in that little skirt, begging to be touched. The way your tight pussy clenched around his cock as you rode him. The way you said his name over and over like a prayer—dammit, Madonna was right. He lets out a terse laugh, making a mental note to tell you tomorrow. 

“Y’like that, baby?” Eddie groans softly, tugging on his hardening length. “Like the way I fill up all your holes, hm? Gonna take it all for me, my good girl?” He imagines you on your knees in front of him, obediently swirling your perfect tongue around his sensitive head as he fucks your face. “What’s that, sweetheart? You want it in your mouth? God, you’re so fuckin’ good to me.”

He stops for a second, practically edging himself, before running his slick palm over his shaft again. “But I really need your pussy tonight, baby. Need that tight, wet, perfect pussy. Jus’ like that, fuck.” He’s got a mental image of you bent over, leaning on the hood of a cherry red convertible, that damned skirt pushed up as he pistons into you from behind. “Yes, yes, oh, fuck YES!” Thick, hot ropes of cum spill into his hand and onto the shower tile as Eddie moans your name out louder than he intended. He freezes as the bathroom door swings open. There’s a pause, then a few footsteps closer to the shower, then the door closes.

“If you’re gonna fantasize about the kids’ babysitter, at least don’t let them hear. Can’t have them growing up and acting like you.”

Eddie’s jaw clenches and he lets his softening cock fall from his hand. He tries so hard to let the things she says roll off his back, but sometimes he just can’t help it. “Acting like me, huh?” He rinses his hand off and wipes his cum from the shower wall. “You mean, working hard trying to support my family?” He snatches his shampoo bottle up and squeezes some into his palm. “Wanting to spend every free second with my kids? Yeah, what a shame that would be.” Eddie scrubs the shampoo into his hair, fingers massaging his scalp as he works the citrus scented foam through his locks.

“No, I mean the part where you seem to think you’re in some porno film, fulfilling some sick fantasy. You realize she’s a kid, right?”

“She’s not a fucking kid,” Eddie snaps, pulling the shower curtain back just enough to glare at Brittany. “Can I finish my shower in peace, please?”

Brittany shrugs, holding her hands up in front of her. “You’re the one who sounded like you wanted some company in here.”

“Oh, fuck off,” he mutters under his breath, staying quiet for the boys’ sake, not hers. 

Coming home from work has always been Eddie’s favorite part of the day. How could it not be when he knows he gets to see you and his kids when he gets there? But ever since you and Eddie got together—if you could even call it that—he loved coming home even more. He couldn’t tell you the last time he came home from work to be greeted by Brittany, happy to see him. It’s been at least two years. 

But that’s exactly what happens when Eddie gets home today. His heart plummets when instead of your gold car in the driveway Eddie sees the red one that he just fucked you in the other day. Begrudgingly, he steps inside the house, ready to focus on his boys and only his boys. Eddie is in for the shock of his life though, when Brittany flounces up to him and presses a kiss to his lips. When was the last time that happened? 

“Hi, honey,” Brittany says in a sickeningly sweet voice. The smile on her face is a mask, Eddie knows. She’s been lying to him for long enough that he’s able to tell. 

“Um, hi,” Eddie says, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “What are you doing home so early?”

“Thought I’d start the weekend a little early with my boys.” She takes the keys from Eddie’s hand and puts them on the table in the hall next to hers before slipping her hand into his. Eddie’s becoming more and more confused by the second. “Why don’t you get washed up and we all go out for dinner?”

“Uh, I’m kind of tired,” Eddie says, which isn’t a lie. But mostly he just doesn’t want to go out with her. “Do you mind if we just stay in? We can order takeout?”

“Whatever my husband wants,” Brittany says, a fake smile plastered on her face as she tugs Eddie along behind her. “Now, you go get cleaned up and I’ll finish up helping the boys with their homework.” Indeed, as Eddie walks past the kitchen to get to his bedroom, the boys are both at the table, pencils scratching away on paper. 

Luke and Ryan tell their parents about their days while the family sits around the table, devouring Chinese food. It’s what Eddie’s always wanted–family dinners, sharing stories–except something still doesn’t feel right.

“And then Tyler kicked the ball, and it hit Jimmy right in the stomach!” Ryan exclaims, eyes wide as he relays the events of recess. “Jimmy almost threw up his lunch, and we had macaroni and cheese today, so that would’ve been nasty.”

“Super nasty,” Luke echoes, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

“That’s nice, honey,” Brittany responds absently, spearing a piece of sesame chicken with a plastic fork. “Glad you had fun at school.”

Eddie catches the confused look on his eldest son’s face. “I think Mommy means that the whole thing sounded exciting.” He’s not entirely sure why he’s trying to cover for his wife, but it seems to placate the situation for now.

After everyone is full, Brittany cleans up while Eddie gets the boys ready for bed. After their usual routine, including an extra two bedtime stories, they finally fall asleep. Eddie kisses each of their foreheads, silent apologies for their mother’s behavior at dinner.

All he wants to do is go to bed, get a good night’s sleep–maybe dream about you–but Brittany’s waiting in their room in a black lace teddy. It’s been a long time since they’ve had sex, so he’s understandably caught off-guard.

“Hi, baby,” she coos, dragging a painted fingernail down his chest. “Wanna have a little fun tonight?” She presses her body against him, and Eddie could kick himself for involuntarily starting to get hard. “I’ll take that as a yes.” She brings her lips to his neck, smearing her lipstick on his collarbones.

“N-Not now,” Eddie stammers out, frozen in place.

“C’mon,” she protests, grabbing his erection and making him hiss at the sensation. “I know you want another baby. Why don’t we get started tonight?” She nibbles at his earlobe, whispering, “want you to get me pregnant, Eddie.”

Eddie pulls back before she can fully draw him in. She’s so familiar; it would be too easy to fall into bed with her and pretend like nothing’s wrong. Just the average married couple making love on a Friday night. But he can’t do it anymore. “No, Britt. I…I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Brittany’s sensual expression quickly turns to anger. “Seriously?” She crosses her arms over her chest. “You’ll fuck the babysitter, but not your wife?” 

“Can you stop calling her the babysitter?” Eddie retorts. “She has a name.”

“Yeah, I know; I heard you moaning it in the shower last night,” Brittany scoffs, rolling her eyes. “I can’t believe you. You’re willing to throw away the life we’ve built together, forcing your kids to have a broken home, all so you can live out some twisted fantasy with a girl who’ll dump you once she finds a younger model?”

He’s stunned into silence. He knows all too well what a broken home looks like; he remembers the utter chaos of his parents’ rage before he went to live with Wayne. The nights where his mom would scream at his dad until her voice was hoarse and scratchy or until he drove off to God-knows-where. He’d never wanted that for his own children.

“You know what?” Brittany’s shrill voice punctures his rambling thoughts. “Fuck whoever you want. I don’t care anymore.” She stomps towards the bathroom and slams the door shut behind her, making Eddie grimace. He waits for one of the kids to wake up from all the clamor, but no one comes in the room. 

It’s not until after he’s gone to bed that his worst nightmare occurs to him: they’re already used to it.

You’ve barely slept since Brittany caught you and Eddie about to kiss; your brain is overwhelmed with anxiety. You feel like some kind of slut, messing around with a married man, regardless of how awful his wife is. And it’s pathetic how easily you’ll do whatever he asks, desperate to keep him, when he’s never fully belonged to you in the first place.

You’re being selfish, wanting him all to yourself. He has a whole family, and you’re just a way for him to get what Brittany isn’t giving him.

You have to talk to him. You have to know where he stands. He cares about you, that much is obvious. But is it enough? 

Since he told you he was going to be home on Saturday to wait for the plumber, you know this is a good time for you to go over. The kids will most likely be there, but hopefully you can somehow squeeze in some alone time to talk to Eddie. The whole ride there your stomach is in a nervous knot. This is what you wanted, your brain tells you. You wanted him to kiss you and care for you and sleep with you. But maybe it was worse to have a taste if you could never really have the whole meal. 

Hand shaking as you raise your fist to knock, you try to steel yourself. It’s still Eddie you’re talking to. The same caring and loving man that you’ve been dreaming about forever. 

When he answers the door, you can tell he was expecting you to be the plumber. But his face switches from polite smile to full out glee in a fraction of a second. It knocks the breath out of you because you know you’re the only one lucky enough to have that smile aimed your way.

“Hey! This is a nice surprise,” Eddie says. He grabs your hand and tugs you inside. One arm wraps around your waist while the other closes the door behind you. The kids must not be nearby because he leans in and presses a kiss to your lips. “You know, you’re pretty hot for a plumber. Here to check my pipe?” The smirk on his face is so endearing and playful that you almost want to abandon the conversation you need to have with him. Deep down you know that you can’t, though.

“Mm, maybe later,” you say, resting your hands on his chest. “Where are the boys?”

“In Ryan’s room. Either they’re playing quietly, or they’ve killed each other,” he jokes, but he becomes solemn when he sees that you’re not laughing along. “I-I’m kidding; they’re both very much still alive.”

“I need to talk to you about something, Eddie.” 

His mind spins all over the place in a matter of moments, trying to read on your face what could be wrong. His eyes scan up and down your body, assessing if you’re hurt anywhere. But as his eyes move back up to your face, a thought flickers to life in his mind as he gazes at your stomach. Unable to tamper down the joy that comes at the mere thought, a smile graces his lips. 

“Are you..?” He trails off, eyes darting back towards your stomach. 

“What?” you ask, before catching his meaning. “No! Oh no, Eddie, I’m not pregnant.” The way the smile melts off his face makes your heart lurch in your chest. He really wants to have a baby with you? He got that excited after only being “together” for two weeks? 

“Oh,” he says, disappointment clear in his voice. “Well, what’s up?”

Taking a deep breath, you grip his hand in yours and lead him over to the couch. His eyebrows are furrowed as he sits down next to you, his thumb rubbing over the back of your hand. The concern in his eyes feels the opposite of butterflies in your stomach. It feels like moths were drawn to the light only to be killed by a bug zapper. You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. Shit, you really should’ve figured out how you were going to start this conversation. 

“I, um, I need to tell you how I’ve been feeling,” you say. “And I want to know how you’ve been feeling, too.”

“Okay,” Eddie drags out the word, a frown creasing his forehead. “Are you all right?”

You’re not sure what the honest answer to that question is. “I’m feeling guilty, Eddie. B-Because you’re still married. And I know you care about me, but you have a family here. Am I just…” you break off and take a deep breath. “Is this thing between you and me only because you want the attention and affection that you’re not getting from Brittany?”

“What?” Eddie’s baffled by the question. He shakes his head, trying to make things make sense in his mind. “You think I only want you for what my wife isn’t giving me? What, you think I just want to sleep with you?” 

“That’s not exactly…” Again, you trail off, not sure what the right words are. “It’s just that you haven’t really made any steps towards leaving her. I’m not saying to pack up your stuff and leave. But…I just want to see you doing something, I guess.” You fidget with your thumbs. “I can be with you, or I can be your kids’ babysitter. But I…I can’t be both anymore.”

Eddie massages the bridge of his nose as he contemplates his options. “I want you,” he states plainly, “but it’s not that simple.” He thinks of what Brittany said last night, about breaking up his family. His boys having to split their time between Mom and Dad.

His hesitation gives you all of the answers you need. “I’m not asking you to choose,” you tell him. “I…I’m telling you that I can’t do this anymore. I’m not going to force something that isn’t meant to happen. I just have to take care of myself.”

Eddie’s beautiful brown eyes mist over. “No,” he mumbles, gnawing on his lower lip anxiously. “I want to take care of you. I want to take care of my girl.”

“Stop calling me that,” you choke out, tears burning behind your eyes. You try to blink them away before he can see. 

Eddie’s thick eyebrows pinch together. “I thought you liked it,” he says. Concern is written all over his face. 

“Look, I get it. You and Brittany are married, have kids together—you can’t just pick up and go.” There’s no use trying to hide your emotions, and you heave out a sob. “I was the Other Woman, and that’s just something I have to accept, I guess. But you have to stop calling me your girl. Because I’m not.” Your eyes dart to the coffee table, where a frame holds a photo of Eddie and Brittany on their wedding day. They look so in love, and it’s a punch to the gut to realize you’ll never have that with him. “She is.”

“No.” Eddie shakes his head, curls bouncing. His heart breaks, knowing he’s caused you to feel this way. “No, she’s not. Not anymore. It’s you, baby. Only you.” He starts to reach out to wipe away your tears, but you jerk back. 

“If we were just having fun, that’s fine. But I need to hear you say it.” You muster up all of the courage you can. “And you need to stop calling me your girl, or baby, or whatever other cute nicknames you come up with.”

Eddie lets his hands drop to his side. He stares at you forlornly. “I don’t…I can’t…”

“Me either.” You can’t meet his gaze as your trembling hand turns the doorknob. “Goodbye, Eddie.” You pull the door closed behind you, vision blurred as you hurry to your car. You leave behind a stunned Eddie Munson, stuck in place as he watches his world crumble. 

“Fuck!” he yells, slamming his fist into the wall so hard that it dents. He hisses as the pain sets in. 

“Dad?” A small voice calls from behind him. Eddie looks to find Ryan peering out worriedly from the kitchen. He hadn’t heard him leave his room. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Eddie tries to reassure him, but his voice catches. He clears his throat and tries again. “Yeah, buddy; I’m okay.”

“Did she leave?” Eddie didn’t even realize that the kids knew you were here.

Eddie glances out the window to see that your car is no longer in front of the house. “Yeah,” he says sadly. “She’s gone.”

Brittany comes home after the plumber’s been gone for hours. After Eddie fed and bathed the kids, all on his own. After he tucked them in and kissed them goodnight. Eddie wonders if she was spending time with more than one of her boyfriends today. It doesn’t matter, though. It hasn’t mattered to him for months. There’s no pain whatsoever associated with being cheated on or lied to. That nerve went dead a long time ago. 

The pain he feels right now doesn’t really have to do with Brittany at all. It all falls on him, in his own mind. He was the dumbass who finally had the girl he had been pining over for the longest time. Found out she returned the feelings, even when Eddie thought no one would ever love or want him again. The woman who made him feel cared for and important. Who had made him truly happy for the first time in God knows how long. 

Apparently, the pain is clear on his face as he stares at the television, eyes not really absorbing whatever is playing on the screen. Brittany hangs up her coat and strolls over towards him. 

“What’s the matter?” she asks. “Did your little girlfriend have to be home before curfew? She wouldn’t want to get grounded, would she?”

“Fuck off, Brittany,” Eddie says, glazed over eyes not even bothering to look in her direction. She doesn’t, of course. She takes a few steps closer, the heels of her shoes thumping against the carpet. Out of the corner of his eye, Eddie sees her cross her arms over her chest. Her hip juts out to the side and he knows this isn’t going to end well.

“So, have you learned your lesson?” she asks. That makes him finally look over at her, face scrunching up.

“What?” he asks.

“She already found someone better, didn’t she? Probably just wanted you because she couldn’t have you. Or that’s what she thought, anyway. But you caved because she still has that new baby smell about her, right?”

Eddie pushes himself off the couch, jaw clenching as he stares her down. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. Just because your God damned harem of men think it’s hot to be fucking someone who’s married—if you even told them—doesn’t mean that everyone is like that.”

“A harem is made up of women, you idiot,” she scoffs. 

“That’s what you fucking took away from what I just said?” Eddie’s hands come up to grab at his hair, his fury and heartbreak reaching a boiling point. “You’re incredible. You know, I’ve known about your affairs for years. Fucking years, Brittany. Years. I was terrified Luke wasn’t even mine but thank God the kid looks just like me. And you know, I accepted it after a while. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I was beyond pissed and hurt. But you, with your psychotic ways, made me think that no one else would ever care about me. Would ever want me. And that’s why you’re so mad now, isn’t it? Because I don’t feel so fucking worthless anymore. Because someone made me feel important after all your years of you trying to do the opposite.” 

He takes a few deep breaths, his pulse raging and his breathing labored from behind so worked up. Brittany is looking at him with fire in her eyes, but Eddie doesn’t care. This explosion was long overdue and she was going to stand there and take it. “And yeah, maybe she’s young. Too young for me? Probably. But that’s not fucking up to you. That’s between me and her. But don’t you dare insinuate that I only want her because she’s young and beautiful. She is everything this world needs more of. Kind, caring, compassionate. Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot that you don’t know what those words even mean. I’d love her even if she was seventy-five and had more wrinkles than my shirts do after you attempt to do the laundry.”

It’s not until Brittany’s eyes widen that Eddie realizes what he just said. He loves you. It just came out with the litany of other words that spewed from his mouth, but he finds these to be truest of everything he said. God, I’m a fucking idiot, he thinks to himself. 

Brittany stalks forward, a lioness about to devour her prey. If there was fire in her eyes before, now there’s an inferno. She grabs Eddie’s hand in one of hers, holding it palm up to the sky. With the other hand, she pulls something out of her purse and slaps it in his hand.

“Here,” she seethes. Eddie looks down and sees the pair of green lace panties you had lost in Brittany’s car. His fingers curl up around the material. He takes his hand that’s clutching the lace and holds it against his chest. 

“You’re pathetic,” Brittany sneers. “We both know you won’t actually leave me. That would require you to grow a pair.” She walks into the kitchen and grabs a cupcake from the fridge; Eddie recognizes it as one that you brought over for the boys. “Have your fun, Eddie. I’ll be waiting for you to come crawling back with your tail between your legs once you realize you’ll never have anyone as good as me.”

He wants to yell back at her, call her all the names in the book, blame her for cheating first. But she’s right–he’s a coward, too afraid to make waves. Instead of committing to the woman he wants to be with, he stays with the one he feels obligated to be with. He grabs his pillow from the bedroom, trudging to the couch for the night. He can’t bear to share a bed with someone who isn’t you. 

Eddie can’t sleep, of course. Too many things are going through his head. I don’t want my kids to come from a broken family. But do I want them to grow up like this? Hearing their parents scream at each other at the top of their lungs? It’s not an example of a healthy relationship either, Eddie knows. And even at five and seven-years-old they already know their mom isn’t there for them. She doesn’t listen to them, show them affection, or even take care of them, really. Sometimes it feels like Eddie is a single parent. Although, that might be easier than this, he thinks. 

But then he thinks about how you are with the boys. Always taking care to make sure they know you’re listening to them, that you hear them. Being firm but never mean when they act up. Buying them things with your own money just because you thought they’d like it. How excited they get when they see you, running over and smothering you in hugs and hellos. How much happier they are around you than they are Brittany. He’s seen the way they’ve physically cringed away from their own mother before. But with you, they never get enough. They always want one more hug, one more game, one more song. Yet, you never get annoyed by it. Most of the time, you agree to it. If Eddie is sure of one thing in life, it’s that you’re meant to be a mother. But did he miss the chance to share in that with you?

A tear snakes down the side of Eddie’s face and the heel of his hand comes up to rub at his eye. He sighs and turns on his side on the couch, adjusting the blanket on top of him. Something soft presses into Eddie’s hip, pressed between his body and the couch. He lifts his body enough to slip his hand into the pocket of his pajama pants. When he looks at the offending item, it’s your panties that Brittany had handed him before. A sniffle comes from Eddie as he balls up the lace in his hand. After holding it for a few minutes, Eddie slips the material back into his pocket.

Crying over a pair of panties, Munson? he thinks, that’s a new one. He flicks on the TV, desperate for a distraction. A rerun of that old crime show, Vega$, is playing. Eddie watches as Robert Urich struts across the street past a flashing neon sign advertising “Girls Girls Girls!!”

Eddie sits up so quickly that the blood rushes to his head. As soon as the dots clear from his vision, he’s grabbing the phone book.

At Eddie’s bachelor party, Steve had drunkenly married a stripper. He’d woken up the next morning and immediately got a lawyer, and it was like the whole thing never happened. Eddie knows his case won’t be so straightforward—he’s been married way longer than 24 hours, for one thing—but the lawyer who’d handled Steve’s divorce made it as painless as possible.

He finds the guy’s name and number and tears out the page, tucking it under his pillow. He’ll call first thing in the morning. And then he’s going to win back the love of his life.

[arceus-insanity]

With the Series Ending

I decided to do this solely based on canon, except for F which are so bad that they transcend the rule. I also put this in the lens of do I enjoy watching them, or do they infuriate me. Most of the ones in G are there because I can't tell who they are from the picture, or are so minor I don't get why they were on the list to begin with

Hawks was the hardest to place because as I've mentioned before I love villain fanon Hawks, and hate Canon for all the missed potential and the guy being shit.

Before the last arc, Deku would have been in C, and I felt most criticisms of him were undeserved. I still feel a lot of them are dumb, however, he's canonically a hypocritical, suck-up to labels, abuse apologist, idiot, etc. As much as it feels like character assassination it's canon, same with Shoji. I also just don't care to read fanfiction of him, and feel he takes a lot of roles where other characters would make more sense. If I'm not already following someone I'm not going to read fanfiction with him in it

Most of E I hate as much if not more than F but the fandom either doesn't write about, or treat them like the pieces of crap they are, looking at Mineta of course.

Fun fact Edgeshot is in E for bringing Bakugo back, and causing me both meta and dramatic issues for me. What the fuck was the point of killing Bakugo to immediately bring him back. How the fuck did Edgeshot know he could do this? How the fuck did he know how to do this? Why the fuck is he doing this for some random teenager he has never interacted with before, in the middle of a war? And now why the fuck does this fucker get to live, no one gave a single fuck about Edgeshot but he gets to live!

Centipeder would have been in E if not for the fact I know what my ringtone for him would be, Red Flags by Tom Cardy

Uraraka owes her rank in B for her arc with Toga, otherwise, she would have been in D. For the plot forgoing her original motivations so they could turn her into a generic love interest. Toga tried talking crushes with her 'twice' everything else regarding that shit, which started before they ever met, is on her

I actually love Endeavor fanfics as most of them either a treat his abuse for what it is, or b I view them as an own on canon Endeavor and his incredible laziness and selfishness. But Twitter exists and they flock to him and his bullshit so to F with him.

Speaking of Fs, Bakugo is a whiney spoiled rotten brat with a silver spoon shoved into his mouth since birth. I hope he never breeds. Damn near every shit thing that has happened to him, was either brought on by himself, literally applied to everyone, he literally doesn't care, and even with the two exceptions I'd give this, the Sludge guy, and being chained up at the sports fest (he should have been disqualified), do not justify his shit

Congrats to Dark Shadow and Tokoyami for being the only hero (student) to make it past B

Needless to say I love villains, Dabi is by far my favourite, followed by Himiko, they are way more engaging and convincing than the heroes. And by convincing I mean it actually feels like they are going to put in effort to make their goals happen, not just wish really hard. I truly wish we could have seen how Shigaraki's goals shifted during his reign over the PLF. We had already seen how he wanted the League to be happy and an exception to his goal of destruction

[aajjks]

Mommy Issues (III)

synopsis. They wanted you, they needed you.

pairing. yandere!single dad!jungkook x fem!reader.

warnings. yandere behaviour, extremely delusional behaviour, obsessive behaviour, Jungkook simp 101, dark themes.

note. hello y’all. 😳 umm it’s surely been a while… but here’s another update, enjoy! and please share your feedback and thoughts! also send in asks for mi characters as well.

series masterlist.

taglist: @mageprincess7 @bids97 @saltandsugaa @minshookie29 @oppa-agust-d @sugarvenomlit @jinat8mydumplings82 @bloombaekhyun @peach-olic @multifandombishthatlovekth @vcutvante @minshookie29 @douknowbts @xjiminsthighsx @knjkitten @bruisedscrewedandtattooed @koocreampie @kooksmataec @monijeon @swaneffects @dragons-flare @dragonjimin @illnevertrustmyselfagain @itsjust2am @vicki1031 @burnahtsw @fjssk @jamacaicanxbarbie [will tag more people later!]

“Hello son.”

Even hearing his voice made Jungkook want to throw up.

He gripped the phone in his hand tightly, his body tensed hearing his fathers voice into the speakers, tired eyes wandered around to see if anyone had heard him.

He sighed deeply as he saw his coworkers busy at their desks.

“Why did you call me?” Jungkook’s tone had now changed, he whispered. his nerves vanishing as his anger took over, the man bit the inside of his cheeks, venom dripped from his voice.

“I can call you whenever I wish to, son.” The older man was just as stubborn as Jungkook, it irked him so much that how calm the older man was. “Ha, of course.” Jungkook replied sarcastically.

His father had no right to sound so entitled, especially not after he had kicked Jungkook out five years ago.

“How’s your son?”

“Why do you care?!” He barked, his voice raising, “fucking hypocrite?! How can you even bring yourself to ask about my son?! The son that you wanted me to abandon, leave him to die?” It was hard for Jungkook to contain his voice from getting louder but he was trying his best.

And his father sensed that.

“Calm down, Jungkook.” The said man wanted to laugh at his “dad” for advising him to calm down, Jungkook’s dad really was the most hypocritical asshole he’d ever seen.

“Why’d you call me, dad?!” Jungkook emphasized on the last word, chewing on his bottom lip as he grabbed his car keys, the phone still pressed tightly into his ear.

“I want to have dinner with you.” Jungkook scoffed, clearing his desk out, “you cannot be serious.” Jungkook grabbed his coat and left the building, too engaged in his conversation with the man he hated the most.

“Tell me, is this about nara?” Jungkook knew his father very well, he was never a man who cared about his family.

“Dinner at the plaza, son. Saturday evening. We’ll continue our conversation there. Goodbye.” The line disconnected before jungkook could argue, his jaw was left agape as he sat in his car, his phone now in his hands as he stared at the screen,

His mind completely blanked. He was not going to be a pawn in his dad’s game this time. Jungkook would rather die than fulfill his fathers demand.

“Fucking damn it!” He started the car, his mind was going crazy the more he thought about his monstrous father.

He banged his hand on the steering wheel out of frustration, his mood was ruined, his excitement was gone.

He was looking forward to seeing you.

He couldn’t afford to have his mood ruined. Right now? He needed to focus on the PTM.

He needed to focus on you.

You’ve been here for the last two hours.

“Mrs Choi, haru is a very good boy, he’s very into arts and is always very eager to participate in such activities.” You smile at the young woman, praising her son who smiles in return at you.

Seeing the little guy’s smile makes your heart very warm. “But.” You clear your throat. “He can be quite naughty especially with his friends.” You watch as Mira, the boys mother throws him a stern look.

The boy just pouts in return, his green eyes shining with mischief.

“Thank you for letting me know, Ms Yn… I’m guessing the friends are Jeon Seol, Min byung-ho and Lee-Jin?” The mother passes a look of disappointment to her son. You smile lightly at the sight.

“He’s a very good boy, very athletic too.” You begin praising your student, “and his friends are very good boys too, although Haru seems to be a little attached towards Jeon Seol.”

The mother turns her head to look at you once again, “yes I’m aware, they’re very close friends since their childhood together actually. My husband is a friend of Seol’s Dad.” You raise your eyebrows at that.

You were not aware of that, Mr Jeon was such a friendly man? He was even friends with your best friend and her husband too.

Small world.

“And yes, his English and both Korean are very good, especially for a little guy his age.” You nod at the young mother who ruffles her sons hair.

“Say thank you, haru.” She was such a sweet woman, barely any older than you, and you were almost done with the meeting.

“That’s all, mrs Choi.” You stand up and you watch the foreign woman take her sons hand and she bows her head to you, you repeat the gesture.

“See you soon.” You wave the duo bye and sit down at your chair again, you are pretty sure your ass aches but.

a few more parents were yet to meet with you.

It was going to be a long long day.

You sighed.

“SORRY I WAS LATE BUT IM HERE!”

Jungkook’s eyes searched for you, his loud voice had grabbed attention of people in the classroom as he walked through the students and their parents.

“DADDY!” Jungkook felt a pair of small arms wrap around his legs, stopping him in his tracks when his eyes found you.

You were looking so beautiful.

“H-Hey champ!” Jungkook replied to his 5 year old son as he picked him up, “Why’re you late?!” His son grabbed his face and turned it towards him, Jungkook teared his eyes from you, focusing on his son instead.

Seol pouted at his distracted dad, “ms Y/N is waiting for you!”

Jungkook smiled at that as he kissed his son on the cheeks, “really? I’m sorry for making her and you wait, my love.” He giggled with his son.

“Come.” Jungkook had his son in his arms as he sat down in front of you. Seol was sitting in his lap comfortably but Jungkook was looking at you.

“Oh Mr. Jeon you’re here!” You exclaim, focusing your attention on him, giving him the most ethereal smile ever.

His heart fluttered.

“H-Hi… I’m sorry I-I was late.” Jungkook stuttered like a little boy in front of you, “it’s alright. Let’s begin shall we?”

Jungkook could listen to you forever.

He was having the time of his life, watching you, listening to your voice, he was feeling so lucky, it felt like to him it was just you, his son and you in the large room.

It was partially true, because the room was now almost empty.

He was actually glad that he was late.

“Ummm, are you there, Mr Jeon?” He watched your eyebrows twitch and you looked at him with confusion, your features looking even more beautiful.

“Daddy?”

He felt Seol pinch his skin and he broke his trance of thoughts, you watch him with concern and he also felt his child’s eyes on him.

“Yes-Yes I’m listening, ms yn… you continue, please.”

He was sounding like the most dumbest lovesick fool ever, but he didn’t mind sounding so stupid, you made him act so weird that it was impossible for him to be normal around you.

“And please please call me Jungkook, like I asked you to last night.”

He knows he probably shouldn’t have said that out loud, but oh well.

He had.

[dyns33]

Only Wastelands part 3

The people have spoken ! Viva the Ghoul ! Feo fuerte y formal. And since I'm all three of that, I'll give you part 3 and not a new story.

Just, be patient, it will be a longer series than even I expected. I think 5 or 6 parts.

Tag : @one-of-thewalkingdead @coolrobloxkid28 @thebumbqueen @rachmari @ilyvia @justme12200 @honeybunhottie @savanahc @gobbodoggo @bisasterbisexual @killingboredom @bonafideyapper @i-simp-for-mha-men @pixelatedprofilepic @ultimatreality @chattersstuff @harmfulb1tch @hellolettuce444 @miketastic25 @darkangel4121 @avidreadee123 @kaitttttttt @nullx1ety

It was now official, Y/N was the unluckiest person in all of the wastelands.

The only thing she had always wanted since she came out of her hole was to survive, for as long as possible, having to do as little harm as possible, and staying all alone, far from creatures, people, Cooper and Vault Tech.

Henry MacLean's smile clearly indicated his pre-atomization work. Smooth talking, manipulating, complimenting and lying to get what he wanted.

No doubt he was considered gifted at the time, but Lucy's father didn't seem to have fully understood that the rules had changed and those who remained had adapted.

He needed a guide and a bodyguard to get to a high-security shelter. Like his daughter, he had a keen eye, he had spotted her as she was about to leave New Vegas, and her pitboy had left him thinking that they were part of the same side.

Y/N would have told him that she only had one side, hers, but she was smart enough to keep a neutral face while he spoke to her. Were all the inhabitants of the Vault so damn talkative ?

"If you come with me, if you help me, I can guarantee you a special place in a wonderful vault. You will be safe, fed, with water, clothes, a bed. It's a good deal, right ?”

“And what makes you think they’ll welcome you with open arms ?”

The question seemed to confuse him for a moment, then he put on his fake smile again, pretending that everything would be fine and that his friends wouldn't let him down.

Either he was totally stupid or he was deluding himself. Hope took a long time to die here.

In any case, even if the deal was tempting, everything was against accepting it. Because she couldn't trust Henry and Vault, because she didn't want to go back underground, because Cooper was looking for this guy and her primery goal was to never see the Ghoul again.

The problem was the armor. Now that he had spotted her and considered her to be his best means of reaching his destination, MacLean was not going to let her go so easily.

He could shoot her if she tried to flee, and he would be hard to kill with his protection. Coop had told her about a malfunction, but Y/N wasn't sure where it was.

To continue to survive, it was therefore wiser to follow MacLean, returning his smile, waiting for the ideal moment to disappear. But the man was not as stupid as he seemed, and he refused to sleep, never leaving her side.

Still less clever than Lucy, he did not connect their pitboys.

When they arrived at his destination, Y/N was sure that this was the end. Vault Tech was made up of assholes, so they were going to kill their dear employee, or they were going to leave him out, and most certainly, they were going to kill her.

But no. In their hypocritical pretense of saviors of humanity, the doors were opened and they were received as nobles.

It would be a lie to say that Y/N didn't appreciate the hot shower she was able to take in her private room. The first in years. She savored the food, she resisted jumping on the bed like a child, and she cried a bit while watching TV, showing scenes of the life before, lost forever.

And after a presentation on community life in the shelters, a movie. An old Western film. With the main star, Cooper Howard.

Y/N had never seen his movies. She had seen the posters, she had heard of the actor, he appeared in Vault ads until his divorce and the accusations of communism.

More serious than in the picture he had given her, quite ridiculous with his fringed suit, he gave a moral lesson to his enemy, saying that killing was wrong. Ah, Coop would die laughing if he heard that now.

This thought made her a little sad. Y/N was mad at him, and at the same time she put herself in his boots.

He had been betrayed by his ex-wife, he had been separated from his daughter, he had transformed into a sort of zombie, still conscious thanks to medication but in danger of losing his mind at any moment, wandering for eternity in the wastelands, where he could be killed, insulted, or see those he took the risk of loving die in front of him.

Maybe he had loved her at one time. She wanted to believe that. She wanted to believe that this man on the screen hadn't disappeared, he was just hurt, bruised, and wanting to protect himself. So it was normal that he didn't want to keep a burden like her any longer.

She had to keep the good memories.

His laugh, the time they danced together in a ruined dinner, his arm around her as she slept on his shoulder.

When he called her a fucking pet, a good ribbance, no one he cared about.

It was a bit out of boredom, and mostly thinking about her next move, that Y/N hacked into the vault's system, to look at their little secrets and get useful information, like where the food was stored and how to get out without being spotted.

She didn't expect to see the name Howard. Barbara and Janey Howard.

Obviously she had fallen into the main, original, most important Vault, which brought together people deemed to be priorities such as the president of the country, the president of Vault Tech, their advisors and their families.

He wasn't as important, and that's why he'd been placed elsewhere, but Henry had been loyal, and he could tell them about the state of the outside world, so they'd let him in. Y/N’s fate was still to be determined.

Leaving now, stealing supplies and waiting for nightfall would have been easy for her. The best thing to do.

But Y/N had often imagined this little girl, adored by her father. Cooper didn't talk about her often, his voice shaking whenever he mentioned Janey. His little Janey.

No doubt he would be here soon, he could get her back himself. But what if he couldn't do it ? What if he was killed trying ? What if the little girl was killed because, thinking she wasn't there, he blew everything up ?

It was not stated whether Barbara was still alive. Y/N didn’t really care. This woman could use her status as a mother all she wanted to justify her actions, what she had done was abominable.

At her request, Janey had been put to sleep, and she was not to be awakened until the outside was perfectly safe and sound, and then the world would be hers.

It was impossible to tell whether that was a good thing or not, whether it wouldn't have been better if she had simply grown up in the Vault after the explosion, or if she hadn't survived to never see all this.

But it was not the time for useless questions like this. Not anymore. Using all her knowledge and discretion, Y/N sneaked up to the cryonyzation chambers.

One thing was certain, Janey was her father's daughter. She had his look, stubborn and clever like him, immediately wary of this stranger who asked her to follow her. Her parents had often told her not to follow people she didn't know.

"Hold on." Y/N said kindly as she took out the photo Cooper had given her. "Look. Your dad gave her to me. He told me a lot about you. His favorite cowgirl. He's looking for you everywhere."

That wasn't entirely true. He had looked for her everywhere. Despair had slowed his motivation a bit after a hundred years.

"Daddy ? You know where my daddy is ?"

"Yes. I'll take you to see him, all right ?"

Her smile. Even the sun was not as radiant as the smile of this little girl, who jumped into her arms, happy to be able to find her daddy.

Y/N would later think about how she didn't want to find the father, and that Janey would be in for a bit of a shock if they ended up meeting him.

After all, Cooper had changed, physically and mentally. It wasn't going to be so easy to explain to her that he had had health problems, but that it was really him, without a nose, with charred skin, yellow teeth, and blood on his hands.

Children were rare in the wastelands. It wasn't a place for them, people weren't crazy enough to procreate. Some could no longer do so, because of the radiation. And the little ones often left very early, for various reasons, both sad and horrible.

She no longer really remembered how to behave around a child, nor how a child behave. For the moment, the little girl was calm, holding her hand as she followed her out of the shelter.

But she might be scared outside. Not obeying, walking too slowly, shouting. Oh, she shouldn't scream, that would attract all the raiders and deathclaws in the area. And if something happened to her, then after three years, the Ghoul would finally come for Y/N.

Just, not to save her.

"It's very dangerous out there. Okay, Janey ?" she explained, kneeling down in front of the little girl to look her in the eyes. "You're going to have to be brave, and do everything I say. Can you do that ?"

"Yes."

"You promise me ? It really wouldn't be easy."

“We cowpokes take it as it comes.” Janey said proudly, her smile as adorable as ever, but her expression showing her seriousness. She understood well.

"Alright. So, don't make a sound. You stay calm, you stay close to me unless I tell you to hide, and you wait for me to come get you."

“And we’re going to see my daddy ?”

"… Yes. We're going to see your dad. We just have to… He loves you a lot, he's been a little sick."

“I’ll give him a kiss so he can heal.”

"We'll see about that. I have Radaway. I'm going to open the door, and I'm going to carry you, because there's a chance the turrets will shoot at us. Don't scream, hold on tight and trust me."

Janey continued to smile, giving a thumbs up. She may not have understood everything after all, but that was normal at her age.

Her little hands would squeeze tighter when they were outside, the heat and putrid air beating down on them, but she didn't make a sound, her head in her neck, while Y/N ran as fast as possible away from here, taking cover, dodging gunfire and ignoring alarms.

In the desert, you couldn't stop until you were sure you were alone, hidden by the night. Then they could sit down, drink a bit, and look at the direction they had to take.

And looking at the map of her pitboy, where Lucy MacLean's exact location was flashing happily, Y/N sighed, adjusting Janey against her so she was sleeping in a comfortable position, knowing full well where she needed to go.

It was time to face her demons.

[blackflash9]

While I appreciate and admire Haytham Kenway as a character, his actions have caused long-term, irreparable damage to the perception of the Assassins within the community, tainting their intentions, goals, and the overall messaging of their eternal war with the Templars.

(And I certainly intend to eventually break down how the Colonial Rite in AC3 is NOT what it appears to be...)

But back to Haytham:

It's crucial to highlight that a majority of Haytham's arguments are fundamentally fatalistic at best and utterly cynical at worst. Unlike the other paranoid and obsessive members of his order, Haytham represents another reason the Templars have endured for so long.

Just as George Washington, Sam Adams, and the rest of the Founding Fathers symbolized a prelude to America's two-faced nature in both domestic and (eventually) global affairs, Haytham and his rite also served as a precursor to a lot of the tactics and machinations that future power-seeking populists in the nation would use to prey on people's misfortunes and desires for profit or manipulation. ['Public Execution' Transcript]

Thomas Hickey: "How should I know? The Templars. Lee. The big man, Haytham. They 'as the money. They 'as the power. That's the reason I threw in with 'em. That's the ONLY reason. Sure, they 'ave some sort of vision, for the future too. I didn't give a damn about any of that. They can sing their songs about mankind and its troubles. They can make their plans and spring their traps, don't bother me none. They paid me so I said yes. Didn't bother to ask who or how or why. Didn't care." What is more: He is a complete hypocrite. Within the same rooftop scene, Haytham notably criticizes the Founding Fathers for using evasive rhetoric and "pretty words," yet are the Templars also not guilty of the same, only more effectively? He proclaims to not "feign affection," but does exactly that in a fruitless final attempt to sway Connor with the reveal of Washington burning his village.

(And that's not even getting into his other morally reprehensive acts.)

It is evidently clear that the narrative subtly indicates that Haytham is in the wrong, but due to his portrayal being that of a slightly charming figure, his authoritarian nature and fascist tendencies are swept under the surface with him being often falsely perceived as a sort of moral paragon or righteous figure in the eyes of many.

And It concerns me how people unironically fall for this rhetoric. For a brief moment, we see Haytham's "mask" slip completely when he nearly chokes Connor to death while monologuing revealing his most veritable self as this utterly sadistic and unhinged Templar like we've seen in the series up until that point. At the core: Haytham is less of a representative of Templar righteousness as he completely embodies the sheer allure and convincing nature of the Templar philosophy, highlighting its appeal to many despite its fundamental flaws.

[incorrect-riordanverse]

It's really disheartening that Rick Riordan stance on the war I understand that he wants to be neutral on this stance but in my opinion by becoming neutral he only worsening the issue as many Palestines are dying that are mostly children, how the majority of Israeli are supporting the Genocide of Palestine, and how the government is trying so hard (but miserably failing) to justified the genocide. I will hold him accountable for what he said on this issue as during this period the choice is basically "you are with us or against us."

Part of me wishes he will realize what he said was wrong and understand the bigger issue that plays at hand. I will criticism for his actions as how can a man who promotes LGBTQIA and representation of minorities and disabilities in his books turn a blind eyes to Genocide of people. However we can only wait and see on his next move.

One last thing about your previous you said you don't group Riordan with other authors where do you would group him with? Also this is more on an opinion base answer but many people are boycotting companies that support Israel there as been another post on Twitter on boycotting authors. Rick Riordan happens to be one of them. Do you believed that he should be boycotted with other authors or he should be properly educated and apologized for his previous statement? If you believed he should be boycotted what do tou have to say to those who might have the mentality of "separate the art from the artist"

thank you for this ask, and i completely agree with you! it is extremely hypocritical of him considering what he preaches for in his books. i think he’s convinced he has properly addressed the apartheid by using very vague language that can be applied to anything, and in doing so, he’s addressed nothing really.

your first question on who i would group him with— probably other authors who are doing the exact same as him in their virtue signalling. i always like to link my other blogs to each other, so i don’t think it’s a secret that i have a red queen account and i’m pretty passionate about that. unfortunately, victoria aveyard is another fantasy author who has literally wrote a whole four-book series on the uprising against oppression but is now playing neutral in her address of the apartheid. rebecca yarros is in the same boat, although i haven’t read ‘fourth wing,’ fans have said there are large themes of oppression within the book. so if i had to group riordan it would probably be in the ‘i-like-to-write-about-it-for-profit-and-praise-only’ group.

in terms of boycotting, i think that’s a great idea! i would also like to remind everyone that the percy jackson tv show is coming out in a little over a month, but disney is a huge industry financially supporting israel as well ($2 million in funding), which is obviously far more damning than a poorly written address by one person. there is a boycott happening for disney as well— and the pjo show will be released on disney + . i implore everyone to not watch it on that platform!! personally i will be pirating it online (idk if i’ll get into trouble saying that here but lol oh well), because im pretty sure the boycott is only for withdrawing financial support, not simply consuming media.

i feel like separating art from the artist only works if that artist is… like, dead, and you’re using that art and its values as a historical insight to how the world was during its time. you can still like a piece of work that has a problematic artist, you can engage with the work (to an extent). but separating art from the artist barely works because either:

to engage with the art is to support the artist in some way, so that artist is making money based on your interaction with that (particularly in the case for singers and streaming of songs)

that artists’ views and values are so rancid that it’s literally embedded within the text itself. to ignore it is harmful.

harry potter is my all-time favourite example to use, because jkr is the scum of the earth, and her views are entrenched in her work. a lesser known example is sarah j maas and her books (she’s also not as dogshit as jkr, but then again, its not hard to be a better person than her). i’m not going to bag on these people for liking things by problematic people (would be hypocritical of me), i just think it’s cowardly not to address it when you come across it, or at least admit to it. to simply write things off as ‘separate to the artist’ is like purposefully turning off your critical thinking skills.

on whether boycotting or an apology is enough— if riordan did apologise and used specific language and not the nonsense he had in that blog, expressed his remorse for his ignorance and then actually did or said something to support the people of palestine then, yeah. that’s fine and that’s how we learn ig. but he should educate himself, too many activists, people from the arab community and especially palestinians are expected to be all-knowing and to educate everyone else on an already draining and personal tragedy. it’s been exhausting for me, i can’t imagine what they’re going through. if riordan (or anyone) needs to be educated, he should do it himself, and (at least in my opinion) i don’t think the info is very hard to find now. it’s just about weeding out the misinformation.

i think boycotting is a good idea as of now. it can serve to be a catalyst for self reflection for many people. also, as much as i hate most online discourses, talking about it online needs to happen. i don’t want these authors to forget, for a moment, about the ignorance they posted online during a time of international crisis.