#why would you engage me in political debate just to insult me to my face

[samuelortezbignaturals]

HELp I overheard two people talking about the politics around homelessness and while it was VERY neoliberal nonsense one of them literally just said “homelessness will always exist” and then moved on and it was just accepted as fact

biting and mauling and shitting and clawing you

[yoonpobs]

know your worth | myg | m

pairing: min yoongi x oc (ft. maknae line and an unsuspecting joon)

genre: fluff, SMUT

warnings: jealous yoongi, smut, penetrative sex, fingering, dom!yoongi

words: 9, 610

summary: happy birthday yoongi

"You could always offer something else," Jimin whispers conspiratorially.

You raise an eyebrow, chopsticks stopping halfway as you reach for your vegetables, piqued by Jimin's suggestion.

"And that is ...?" You pry.

Jimin shrugs his shoulders, a slight smirk on his lips as his eyes narrow at you when he leans forward with a suggestive look on your face.

You still looked as clueless as ever, and Jimin wants to pat your head and tell you that you were far too pure for this world because ... well, a lot of things flew past you. Even after you and Yoongi crossed the lines of more than just trainer and trainee, you were still the sharp yet sweet girl that lived life simply.

"What else can a man and a woman do together?" He hints at you, voice still low.

Your brows furrow when you shove another bite into your mouth and chew, pondering his question before you decide that you weren't sure.

"You know going on dates is difficult here," You sigh, "The council is always popping by for inspections and you know how Yoongi gets when his superiors are here."

Jimin snorts, stealing a bao from your plate.

"Yoongi has a sword up his ass half the time. You need to loosen him up—if you catch my drift." He winks.

You huff, folding your arms across your chest, wondering why on earth was Jimin speaking in riddles around you as if you weren't close enough to discuss any matter. You always thought of Jimin as a brother to you, even if you were older than him—he often pampered you and took care of you on days where your body was weary.

"Will you just tell me what you mean? Enough of this talking in circles." You frown.

He pats your head and you want to bite his arm off like an animal, but that would probably just get him to tell on you to Yoongi. Even if your relationship had escalated, Yoongi is Yoongi. Stern, professional and truly—uptight.

"Oh dear _____," He sighs, leaning his cheek against his palm as he stares at you, "Have you not had any experience with men before you arrived at the temple?"

You glare at him when he snickers at your abashed expression, cheeks reddening at his bluntness.

"I-I never had the time. And men weren't interesting from where I was," You mumble.

"More like you have a type," He points out.

You scoff and take the last bite of your meal before pushing the plate forward, more curious about Jimin's observation for the day.

"I don't. I like people based on atmosphere,"

Jimin scoffs like he doesn't believe you, and as if he knew how to read you better than yourself. But Jimin had always been very observant and he would say that he was right on people-reading ninety percent of the time.

"You, my friend, like being bossed around. You like men who are mean to you." Jimin snickers like a child as you gape at him, appalled at his suggestion, "Men back in town were far too polite. You like the assertive man who knows how to put you in your place."

You burn brightly when he laughs harder at your mortified face.

"I-I do not!" You vehemently deny, but the stutter in your voice only causes Jimin to sigh tauntingly.

"_____, Min Yoongi is mean as mean can get—don't get me wrong—he's a fundamentally good person but that man has no idea how to be nice to people. It's like his default method of social interaction is to insult people or scare people off with his face" Jimin says pointedly, "And you are one of the sadistic folks that like that."

You pout, sulking as you lean into your seat.

"He's nice to me ..." You mumble.

Jimin gives you a knowing look.

"Occasionally. But you like it when he's a little mean, don't you _____?" He smiles devilishly.

"Who's mean?" Jungkook slides into the seat next to you, whining at the both of you when he sees that you've eaten without him.

"Yoongi," Taehyung answers even if he's just joined the conversation.

"Oh. Totally. Did I tell you guys he told me I looked like wore the same underwear for a week?" Jungkook nods.

You look at your friends blandly, then shoot Jimin a glare as if to tell him he's started all of this.

"Jungkook. You do wear the same underwear for a week ..." Taehyung adds dryly.

You wince at the new set of information as Jungkook just shrugs nonchalantly as if he hadn't just exposed himself into being the poster-child of a boy.

"Why are we even talking about whether or not my boyfriend is mean or not?" You snap.

Taehyung's brows shoot up to his hairline as he shoots you a teasing smirk.

"Oh, are we on the boyfriend-girlfriend stage now?"

You hate the fact that you turn red at any moment where they opt to tease you, but the reminder just makes your heart flutter every time you think of Yoongi.

"Not really—I mean ... you know Yoongi," You parrot for the millionth time, "He doesn't really—he doesn't do things like that."

Jimin purses his lips.

"Aish. This hyung is really emotionally constipated."

Taehyung and Jungkook nod in agreement but all you do is brood further.

After the night that you and Yoongi took things ... further ... he never really explicitly said anything about where the two of you stood. In fact, you didn't expect him to either. Yoongi was a take-no-shits kind of person and he didn't fall into the trap of mediocrity. The way he expressed his affection was far different from the average individual and you saw that.

You knew that him holding you close that night to say that he believed in you was his way of showing you that he wanted you.

The secret and desperate kisses that you share from time to time when people weren't looking was also another method of his to show you that he was in this.

But sometimes you needed a little reassurance.

"_____, you need to be a little more proactive, which—" He looks up as if he remembered something, "—brings us back to the beginning of our conversation. You need to have sex with him."

Your eyes bulge out of your sockets as you begin choking on your own spit at the explicitness of his words. Even Taehyung and Jungkook are caught off-guard but Jimin simply looks like he's asked you about the weather forecast.

"How did you even come to that conclusion?!" You cry.

"Don't look at me like that! You said it yourself it was hard to go on dates here. Just fuck him in your private chambers and have him claim you with your magical pus—"

"I will literally slaughter you if you finish that sentence," You warn Jimin.

He puts his hands up in defense as he shrugs his shoulders.

"I mean, he's not wrong ..." Taehyung adds in.

"Of course you'd say that! The two of you are half a brain cell combined." You complain.

When you look over to Jungkook, the tips of his ears are red and you're as mortified as he is, but you've always known Jungkook to be a little shier than his hyungs.

"I mean you've kissed and stuff right? Over the clothes action?" Jimin gestures to his crotch area when he speaks of the activities that you and Yoongi have engaged in as you cover your face with your hands.

"Oh my God! How is that any of your business?" You shriek.

"You're complaining to me about the fact that you don't know what to get Yoongi for his birthday! The moment you came to me for advice is when this became my business!" Jimin retorts back, as loud as you were.

You were sure some of the maids were eyeing your bunch oddly but didn't pay too much mind because the four of you were the rambunctious types. Debatably, you only got dragged into their antics because you carried more authority in the temple than they did, and they came to you for help causing mischief.

"So, have you?" Taehyung pries for his friend.

You look away with flushed cheeks.

"We've kissed and stuff. He's like ..." You shudder, remembering his hands on you, "... maybe some light petting? I guess? That's it."

The fact that you've admitted that to your friends just makes you want to crawl into a hole and never come out.

"Wow. You really are a saint," Jungkook whistles and you feel a little betrayed that he's beginning to take Jimin and Taehyung's side.

"Shut up. It's not like you're any different," You snap, feeling your face get hotter when the men just snicker, “Besides … it’s not like I haven’t … tried … it’s just that I think Yoongi has this idea in his head that I need petals and roses and candles for my first time.”

You clamp your mouth shut in embarrassment, mortified that you’ve revealed too much. But your friends just blink at you, unmoved.

“Have you ever just … asked him? Or told him what you’re into?” Taehyung asks slowly.

You sigh deeply, “It’s not that easy … I have tried but he’s just so—gentle.”

Jungkook snickers and Taehyung thwarts him over his head as you glare at him.

“What? Do you want him to be rough or …?” Jimin raises an eyebrow.

You blush as you cover your face with your hands.

“Why are we talking about this.” You whine.

Taehyung scoffs, “Look. What better way to have this conversation if not with men themselves?”

You pin him with an unimpressed look before exhaling.

“It’s just … awkward …” You mumble.

“Noona, we’re not going to judge you for being a virgin. We were all virgins at one point.” Jungkook says.

Your eyes widen as you gape at him.

“You—?”

"Oh Noona," Jungkook pats your head, "I'm not as innocent as you think I am."

His hyungs snicker as you tilt your head in confusion, but decide to ask him about it to preserve the image of your friend in your head to be one of his purity. The three of them were handsome, and if you were any younger and if you lacked coherence, you would probably find yourself swooning over them as some of the temple ladies have as well.

"Look, _____," Jimin says, "It's not like Yoongi is gonna hate you if you be a little more forward. Trust me. He's just too conservative to actually do anything on his own. He probably wants to blow your back out."

You raise an eyebrow.

"Blow my back out ...?"

Taehyung snorts.

"Did you forget that _____ has been cooped up in this temple for months?"

Jimin opens his mouth to say ah as if he remembered that he had more freedom compared to you in returning to town to meet with the townsfolk, occasionally learning new slang with every visit.

"Doesn't matter—but—Yoongi is into you. I know hyung well enough to see his resolve slowly crumbling. All you need to do is take the first step. What better birthday present than the classical birthday sex?" Jimin shrugs.

You bite your lips as you mull over his words, considering his proposition even though you were terrified of embarrassing yourself in front of Yoongi.

"H-How do I do that?" You ask meekly.

Jimin smirks, and you can see the devil horns appear on the sides of his head.

"Yoongi looks calm and composed but ... there's always been a flaw of his that he doesn't show often," He giggles under a low breath, earning nods from both Taehyung and Jungkook.

"And that is?" You ask slowly.

“Envy.”

“So you want me to manipulate him into having sex with me by making him jealous …” You deadpan.

Jimin snorts.

“God, why do you word it like that? It’s not manipulation if Yoongi wants to do it regardless of the context. All he needs is a little push and you’ll have him destroying your uterus.”

You burn harder and hit Jimin’s arm so hard that he whines and clutches his arm, shooting you a vehement glare before Taehyung steps in with a grin.

“And we’ve got just the plan.”

"This is dumb. He won't react. He knows that you're like my little brother," You frown at Jungkook, as the two other men only rolled their eyes at your doubt.

"He will. It isn't rare knowledge to know that Jungkook had the fattest crush on you when you first came." Taehyung exposes his younger friend who's eyes only widen as you gape at him, information being unveiled to you.

"You did?" You ask in disbelief.

"Look. It lasted like—a day." Jungkook hastily defends himself, glaring at Taehyung.

Jimin shrugs his shoulders as he looks over yours to keep an eye out for Yoongi.

"Try a month, kid." Jimin snorts, "He used to drop tiger lilies by your door every night."

You gape at him in realisation.

"So that's where they came from ..."

Jungkook huffs, ears turning red as he quickly attempts to deflect the attention away from him.

"Okay, the point is: Yoongi knew too, which is why he wouldn't take so kindly to see his girl with Jungkookie," Taehyung reminds you.

You sigh.

"Not his girl ..." You mutter.

"Yada, yada," Jimin mocks, "I know you're your own person and stuff but like ... theoretically speaking, you aren't his girl ... yet."

You purse your lips, about to retort until Jimin shoves you and Jungkook aside, causing you to stumble into his chest with an oof as he catches you by the waist.

"Dude—!"

"Hyung. There you are!" Taehyung calls out cheerily, as Jungkook keeps his hold on you, blinking down at your confused face.

Only when do you turn your head do you see Yoongi walking over to the four of you, robes flowing behind him as he walks.

No matter how many times you're greeted with Yoongi's presence, it's like he takes your breath away every single time. His black hair is tousled across his forehead, with the occasional wind blowing strands of hair away. The deep-navy satin of his robe looks elegant, and you know that it's a precious fabric that comes with his experience.

His sword is tucked away in his belt as per usual as he nods his head to greet your friends, then his gaze is set on you.

More specifically, the way Jungkook is holding you by the waist.

"Careful." Is all he says.

You know it comes from a good place, Yoongi opting to be kind in his own way. That night with his sweet words was a unique experience for you both, and you still hear words of encouragement from time to time, but Yoongi was unalterably himself in a way that he knew how to make you feel wanted with more than just the number of words he says.

"Yeah," You say breathlessly, thanking Jungkook as you tug away from him.

You see Taehyung behind Yoongi, gesturing for you to grab Jungkook's arm to link it around yours.

"Thank you Kookie," You hum, albeit a little awkward, but enough to have Yoongi raising his eyebrow when you pat his head and caress his cheek.

"... I see you're enjoying your break," Yoongi acknowledges all of you instead of your tiny action towards Jungkook and you scrunch your eyebrows at the lack of care.

Jimin doesn't look too bothered, but instead, he uses his mischievous mind to plant another seed into Yoongi's.

"It's been good, hyung," He smiles but you see the mirth behind it, "Jungkook's been teaching ______ calligraphy."

Your eyes widen when Yoongi looks over at you, eyes momentarily darting to the way you're still clutching at Jungkook's robes.

“Um. Yeah," You choke awkwardly and Taehyung nearly facepalms himself at how bad you were at this.

"Jungkook's really good. I'm glad he's the one teaching me," You smile softly at Jungkook.

He returns your smile with a grin of his own, enjoying the way you're cuddled up against his arm. Even if this was all a show, he still had a soft lingering spot for you.

"Anything for my Noona, right?"

You're caught off-guard, and the blush on your cheeks is a genuine reaction when he smiles cheekily at you.

You roll your eyes at shove at his shoulder, but instead, he takes an opportunity to wrap an arm around your shoulder to tug your shoulder.

"She's a natural, hyung. Didn't even need much help," He taunts Yoongi.

Yoongi's face is still as impassive as ever as if he were speaking to his colleagues on town matters rather than his friends and unofficial 'girlfriend'.

"That's ... nice," He hums, eyeing you over once again.

He was never fond of too much affection in front of your friends, to the point where the dynamic between the five of you still remained pretty much the same before the night happened. The only difference was the knowledge of your feelings for Yoongi, and his apparent ones to you.

"By the way, Noona ..." Jungkook says, causing all your heads to turn to him.

You tilt your head, wondering what he wanted to say.

"These are for you." He smiles cheekily, handing over something from behind his back that you didn't catch earlier.

"Oh?" You receive the gift, and the flowers sit prettily in your grasp as Jungkook smiles down at you, looking more like a man by the second.

Where did he even get these?

"Remember the tiger lilies?" He teases.

You scoff but blush anyways, thanking Jungkook as you sniff at them, sighing at the pleasant fragrance.

"Looks like his crush is back ..." Taehyung mutters, and you know he's baiting Yoongi.

Yoongi simply purses his lips and rakes his eye across Jungkook before nodding curtly, bowing his head to excuse himself.

"Very well, then. Enjoy the rest of the day." Is all he leaves you with before he stalks off in the other direction.

You gape, displeased with the fact that Yoongi had shown little to no reaction to Jungkook's obvious flirting with you.

You sigh dejectedly, plopping to sit on the stoned floor, cradling your chin in your hands.

"It didn't work," You mutter, feeling all the more childish.

Taehyung snorts, patting your head as he sits next to you.

"Oh trust me, it worked. That was Yoongi mad,"

Jimin and Jungkook nod in agreement, and you're slightly baffled to see even Jungkook agreeing with him.

"What? He barely moved an inch. That's how he's always been." You tell them.

Jimin rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

"I'm pretty sure he was thinking of a million different ways to detach Jungkook's limbs from his body so he'd never be able to lay a hand on you ever again," Jimin says out loud.

Even Jungkook flushes, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Sorry about the flowers, ______," He mutters, "I thought it would do the trick."

You smile softly at him as you pat his head.

"It's okay Jungkook. I needed some life in my room anyways,"

Jungkook sees what Yoongi sees in you.

"Well that was phase one so ..." Jimin clasps his hands together as you raise an eyebrow.

"There's more ...?"

Taehyung snorts, "Of course there's more. Consistency is key _______."

You sigh, pushing yourself up as you head towards the ladies.

"You guys continue scheming, but I need to head to the bathroom,"

"Freshen up for your night with him, will you?" Taehyung calls over, and you flip him off with your finger.

.

The three men have surrendered themselves to work, apologising that they couldn't help you carry out your plan of making Yoongi jealous.

You laughed it off, waving them goodbye when they pouted at you. You weren't upset, realising that it was childish for you to do so in the first place.

You're sitting by the pavilion, admiring the fresh bloom of flowers as Spring nears when you hear a swoosh of feet by your ears as you turn your head to be greeted with—

"Hi, I'm sorry to disturb but I was just wandering around the grounds," You bow your head at the greeting of the stranger, a man who wears a robe similar to Yoongi as you stand up, offering him a small smile.

"Hello! And you are ...?" You trail off, awaiting his introduction.

He smiles bashfully at you as he scratches the back of his neck.

"Ah, my apologies. My name is Namjoon. I'm one of the new trainers here?" He finishes up with a question as your eyes widen.

"Oh! You're Kim-ssi?"

You've heard Yoongi mention to you once or twice that he would be needing an assistant with the influx of swordsmen coming to this particular temple to be trained, especially since his priority was training you—he needed the extra help.

Namjoon, or Kim-ssi, was extremely tall. He basically towered over you, and you think he's even taller than Taehyung. He's all limbs and stature, but you can tell that he's strong—his physique only further proving that he was fit to be a trainer, to be hired under the same roof as Yoongi.

He nods his head as he looks you over—in a way that was like he was admiring you, and not particularly distasteful.

“And may you be ______-ssi?” He asks slowly.

You nod your head at him and give him a kind smile.

“Yes, I am. I’m surprised you knew who I was.” You joke lightly.

Namjoon breaks into a dimpled grin before nodding his head, eager to continue the conversation.

“I’ve heard many things about you, especially your sword-wielding skills and the fact you are the first woman to be selected as the chosen one.” Namjoon informs you, “I must say that I was thoroughly impressed. I’ve seen your practices be replicated and it is highly complex.”

You bow your head in gratitude as you find your ears heating up at the praise.

“Thank you, Namjoon-ssi. That means a lot to me.”

“And you are much more beautiful in person, _______-ssi," He breathes.

Your eyes widen, hands falling limp as you bow your head in embarrassment at the sudden compliment.

Even though he practically towers over you, and is large in stature as well—he seems like a very genuine person, with pure intentions when he complimented you.

You also notice how handsome he is, dimples indenting his cheeks when he grins at you and eyes that scream comfort.

"O-Oh, thank you Namjoon-ssi," You mumble.

He offers you a genuine smile as you awkwardly fiddle with your thumbs, a lot more flustered with the sudden interaction.

"I was just exploring the grounds before I start tomorrow. Thought I familiarise myself first, right?" He chuckles a deep rumbling through his chest.

You look up at him brightly.

"The temple is truly beautiful. My favourite place is this pavilion," You gesture to the space you were in.

His head follows your hands as he takes in the place with his mouth open in awe.

"It is. Do you mind if I accompany you?" He asks.

You nod your head, patting the spot next to where you were sat previously.

"Of course—"

"_______-ssi."

A voice breaks you out of your interaction with Namjoon as you turn your head to spot Yoongi standing behind you, arms tucked behind his back as he levels a firm stare on both of your figures.

Namjoon reacts before you do, standing to his feet and bowing ninety-degrees to Yoongi, who only keeps his expression vacant.

"Min-nim, it's nice to see you here." He bows hastily.

Yoongi doesn't pay you any mind when he simply hums in acknowledgement at his greeting.

The oddly cold exterior doesn't slip past you as you raise an eyebrow at him, attempting to get his attention when you fold your arms across your chest.

"I see you've met ______-ssi," Yoongi says curtly.

The honorific and lack of familiarity in his voice doesn't slip past you as you narrow your eyes to him, wondering what he was playing at.

"I have. She was kind enough to allow me to accompany her by the pavilion." Namjoon smiles.

Yoongi clicks his tongue, taking a step towards you as he observes the view of the garden that lays within the pavilion.

"Kind indeed ..." Yoongi says.

You huff.

"She is truly as beautiful as the town folks have said," Namjoon admires shyly once again when he looks you over.

A blush reappears on your cheeks, and even under the dim lighting, Yoongi can see the tint on the apple of your cheeks.

His eyes harden when Namjoon looks at you with pure fondness.

"And so they have." Yoongi clips.

"Maybe even more ..." Namjoon adds shyly.

You smile, appreciating his generosity and honesty.

Yoongi, on the other hand, only hardens his jaw when he sees the way Namjoon's eyes basically twinkle when you shoot a stunning smile at him, probably captivated by your beauty that was far more than just your appearance—but your reputation.

"Thank you Namjoon-ssi," You bow, hair falling by your face.

Namjoon notices, and as the gentlemen, he is—he reaches out to tuck it behind your ear.

But Yoongi's hand reaches out to stop him before he can reach you.

Namjoon's eyes widen at the sudden grip on his wrist, glancing over at Yoongi who still has an expression of nothingness on his face. Even you're shocked at Yoongi's blatant act of prevention.

"I believe that the council would like to meet you, Namjoon-ssi."

Yoongi sounds oddly collected for a man who has a tight grip on Namjoon's wrist. Namjoon looks between the two of you, and it was as if the atmosphere breezed past him, he knew exactly why Yoongi acted the way he did.

"O-Of course Min-nim." He quickly bows, bidding farewell before he scurries off—unable to meet your eyes when Yoongi presses his stare until his figure disappears.

You glare at Yoongi with your arms folded across your chest.

"Why did you scare him like that?" You scold.

Yoongi doesn't say anything but keeps his gaze focused on the garden.

"I did no such thing."

You scoff, stomping towards him until you're right by his side, willing him to look at you.

"Namjoon was being nice," You huff petulantly.

Yoongi simply side-eyes you for a brief second before he brings his sword to his front.

"Was Jungkook being nice too?"

So he noticed?

Your eyes widen when he casually brings up the younger boy as you splutter for a response.

"What? Of course! Jungkook's always been nice to me." You frown.

Yoongi hums, still uncharacteristically quiet for when the two of you were alone. Especially after the shift in your relationship.

"He has a crush on you," He deadpans, eyes focused on you now.

You roll your eyes.

"Had, Yoongi. He has a kind heart," You reason with him.

Yoongi raises an eyebrow at your statement.

"So you knew about his crush, then? The tiger lilies?" He pries.

You furrow your eyebrows at his questions.

"Yeah?" You say, confused, "I thought it was really sweet."

He tongues the inside of his cheek the way you found unreasonably attractive as you attempt to focus on the conversation rather than what Yoongi was making you feel.

"Sweet. Huh."

You sigh, pulling at Yoongi's robe so he'd properly look at you, even if you were inches shorter than he was.

You're about to speak, but Yoongi interrupts you.

"What about Namjoon?" He prompts.

You blink at him.

"... what about him?" You furrow your brows.

Yoongi has the ability to master his stoic expression given any context, and it's slightly unnerving how hard it is to read what exactly he's getting at when there isn't an inch of emotion on his pale face.

"Is he sweet?"

You snort.

"You've met him, right?" You joke, "He called me beautiful from the moment we met."

Yoongi raises an eyebrow.

"And how did that make you feel?"

You tilt your head to the side when you see Yoongi's eyes harden a little. But you allude it to the dark of the night approaches.

"Flattered? I mean—he isn't too bad on the eyes either." You tease, only meaning it to be a light quip.

But then Yoongi tugs you into his chest, hand wrapping tightly around your waist as he uses his other hand to tilt your chin up to look at him.

Your eyes widen as you place your hands on Yoongi's chest, attempting to place some distance at the sudden proximity.

"Do you want him to be your trainer then?" He asks, voice low.

Your breath hitches when his finger twirls the stray hand of hair from your face, fingers then proceeding to trail down your jaw as you attempt to think of an answer.

"I-I ... I mean if he must."

Yoongi's grip on your waist tightens.

"It's a yes or a no, _______." His tone warning when he leans closer to your face.

"Y-Yoongi ... people can see." You chuckle nervously, hands resting on his chest but making no real effort to push him away.

He ignores you and squeezes your chin between his thumb and index finger.

"Hm. So you're okay with Jungkook's hand on your waist as you coo at him while the maids walk past but not me just checking on my apprentice?"

You glare at him while his grip remains tight on your chin.

"Oh, I guess I'm back to just an apprentice, huh? That's better than ______-ssi," You say, indignation laced in your voice.

He doesn't respond, but you see his eyes trail over your face as if taking in the slope of your nose, the pores on your skin and the way your eyelash flutters with every blink of your eyes.

“So is that a yes or no, ______."

You sigh.

"Of course not," You frown, "I ... I like you training me."

He purses his lips, nose brushing against yours as you're as captivated by him as he seemed to be with you.

"You're such a silly girl." He sighs.

You gape at him when he releases your chin, turning his back to you.

You tug on his robe, attempting to get his attention as you wriggle against his back.

"What—why?" You cry.

His back is warm against you when you lean your chin against his shoulder blades.

"You don't see it, don't you?" He hums.

You whine, pulling at his sleeves so at least he'd look at you when he spoke to you.

"Yoongi!" You huff.

He sighs, turning around, eyes still dark.

"The way those men look at you." He growls, demeanour suddenly shifting to a much more ... animalistic one.

Your eyes widen when he tugs your body to his again, pushing you up against the pillar by the pavilion.

"What—"

Your words are cut short when he nuzzles his nose into your neck, mouth biting at your skin that causes you to gasp, melting into his embrace.

"Do you know how tempting you are?" He snarls into your neck.

Your knees are weak as his hot breath fans against the nape of your neck that makes you hold onto his shoulders for support.

"I'm not ..." You weakly mumble, eyes blown out when you look down at Yoongi's black mop of hair in the space between your collarbones and your jaw.

He chuckles darkly.

"Namjoon looked absolutely taken with you. Like he wanted to make you his. Like he doesn't know that you train under me," He spits as if the idea disgusted him.

Your eyes soften, loosely wrapping your fingers around Yoongi's hair.

"But you—"

"Shut up." He snaps, tugging at the ribbon that keeps your robe and bottom half modest.

Your eyes widen at where his hands swerve too but don't make any effort to stop him.

"Even Jungkook," He hisses, hand rubbing tight circles against your thigh.

This was the most forward Yoongi has been, both in public and in private and you're revelling in his touch. You don't dare to ask where this is going, but the way his hands drift upwards between your thighs tell you enough.

"That brat looked at you with stars in his eyes as if his hyung wasn't right there."

"Jungkook is—"

"Sweet. I heard you the first time, ______." He snaps back.

His hand is occupied between your thighs but never reaching far enough to satiate the head in your lower region.

You feel the fabric of your underwear turn uncomfortable, the wetness undoubtedly pooling between your thighs with the way Yoongi is treating you.

"It took everything in me to not rip his limbs off."

Jimin was right. You wanted to laugh, but there was nothing funny about the way Yoongi looks at you with carnal desire.

"I-I'm ..." You stutter, when he spreads your thighs, hooking his own thigh between your own so you'd have some form of support.

"What?" He snaps, noticing the way your hair is sprawled across your face. His hand sweeps it away, but his eyes are still stressed on your flushed cheeks.

You can't seem to get the words out, especially when Yoongi's looking at you like that, his strong thigh between your legs as the thin fabric of your pants left little to imagine of how he feels against your clit.

You gasp, when Yoongi grabs your hips to grind you against his thigh, the silky yet rough texture of his pants brushing up against your throbbing bud. You can feel your wetness seeping through your pants, and potentially staining his.

He smirks at your open mouth as you try to level out your gasps, your own hips acting at their own accord.

"Bet Namjoon and Jungkook would kill to see you like this." He boasts.

A hand reaches to your chin to snap your head firmly enough to look at him.

You whine when he squeezes your cheeks mockingly, tensing his thigh as he hisses—your wetness sopping through both fabrics.

"Noooo." You whine, voice turning into a moan.

"Exactly," He snarls, sucking a mark onto your neck so roughly that it causes you to push up against him.

"Only I get you like this, right? This is for my eyes only?" Yoongi spits, his hands busy with groping up and down your body, hand reaching to your slacks until he moves his thigh away, hands replacing them.

The moment his hand cups your mound, you gasp, feeling the way how his big hand covers it entirely.

"This pussy gets wet for only me, right?" He prompts you with a growl.

You nod your head, voice failing you, afraid of revealing your activities to the temple's maids that stayed at nearby quarters.

The feeling is foreign but definitely not unwelcome. Yoongi had a way of navigating his way with your body that made you fall limp in his arms, eager to wait for his next moves.

Yoongi's hand expertly slips inside the waistband of your pants as his knuckle presses against your clit directly, causing more wetness to pool out.

You hear his curse under your breath, and you're not far off when you clutch his hair as his head rests against your neck to continuously suckle marks as a symbol of his desire.

"I've barely done anything and you're this wet?" He taunts and you burn at the way he looks up at you after what seems like a long time, his lips curling into a smirk and eyes blown out with his primitive wants.

Your lips are swollen even though he's yet to connect his lips to your own, purely because you've been biting on them so hard as you await Yoongi's next moves.

You've heard fellow peers speak of their experiences with the temple's men, saying that if done correctly, fingers is all it took for them to wash over in pleasure.

The way Yoongi navigates his thumb between the fabric of your panties to the throb of your clit is done perfectly, and you almost turn sour to think of his past lovers that he's touched so intimately.

You're distracted when he presses down firmly on your clit, wetness lubricating his digits that cause delicious pleasure to bloom in your core.

"F-Fuck," You whimper.

He smirks as his other hand that was used to hold you up against the pillar, yanking your robe open to be greeted with your bra. You flush, feeling all the more exposed against the cool air as the tugs your cups down, mouth latching immediately onto your nipple.

"Y-Yoongi—ah—" You gasp when he focuses kitten licks to your nipple, while the rest of his other hand tugs your panties aside to glide his fingers along your slit.

The feeling is overwhelming, both as his hot mouth seems determined to leave bruises on your breasts, as well as his other hand teasingly prods your quivering hole that only seems to release endless streams of your honeyed essence.

"You're a sight to behold," He exhales, breath caught against your breast.

You can't respond because you're too captivated when you see his hand in your pants, firmly pressed against your core in suspense for more. Yoongi's eyes harden as he bites down on your breast, causing you to let out a cry far too loud for your liking.

Your eyes widen as you clamp your mouth shut, attempting to labour your breathing.

"Do you want to get caught, hm? Is that why you can't keep that mouth of yours shut?" He growls, mouth licking a stripe up your neck—to your chest until he's whispering the words against your mouth.

"F-Fingers, Yoongi," You mewl.

He envelopes your mouth with his, tongue immediately making a home in your mouth as you whine against his lips, sounds of pleasure getting swallowed by his tongue.

"Do you think you're in the position to be making demands?" He snaps, pulling away as you chase his mouth, whining when you miss the contact.

You whimper, shaking your head; absolutely loving the way Yoongi is treating you.

Jimin's words ring in your head momentarily, but you're interrupted yet again with the way Yoongi slips a finger in.

Your mouth opens in a gasp, finally feeling his long digit enter you.

You're wet enough that your pussy welcomes the intrusion with even more lubrication, and his finger becomes familiar with your heat as if you've done this a million times before.

"This okay?" He whispers softly against your cheek, snapping out of his persona for a moment to check on you.

You nod fondly, eyes soft as you respond with an equally soft yes.

With your consent, he's then knuckle-deep into your pussy, finger curling up, wiggling to find the spot that would—

"Fuck!" You squeal, unable to keep your voice down.

He smirks when he prods the pad of his finger against the spongey spot in you.

"There?" He huffs, slipping another finger in and expertly finding the same spot.

You rapidly nod your head, mewls of pleasure escaping past your lips when he begins to thrust his fingers in-and-out of your pussy, wetness squelching as the proof of your pleasure and desire.

"Y-You're in so d-deep—" You wail.

His palm is snapping against your clit, putting just enough pressure to make your eyes roll back into your head. Yoongi is absolutely ruthless when he pounds into your pussy, fingers hooking up deliciously to a spot that makes pleasure explode.

He shoves his fingers impossibly deeper, so deep until—

"Y-Yoongi!" He's at a place where you never knew existed, not that you experimented enough to know but deep enough for you to make a sound that you've never heard come out from you.

Even Yoongi's eyes widen, eyes hardening along with his cock against his pants. He's been hard the moment the night escalated, but he's sure he's going to use your face, the visual along with your moans as the star of all his masturbation sessions.

"P-P-Please!" You wail, "Stay there—oh my God Yoongi—you're so d-deep—fuck—you're so good—to m-me—"

For the first time, your hands reach out to clasp his hand right into the position that he's settled against your pleasurable spot, as your whimpers get louder and your legs shake next to your hands.

Yoongi is so fucking hard that it takes everything in him not to cum right then and there. So, he just looks out you, his own breathing laboured as he admires the way beads of sweat drop down the side of your head. Your cheeks are beyond flushed and eyes shut tight, as if you couldn't believe the pleasure you were feeling.

It's because you truly couldn't.

You've always wanted to take a step further with Yoongi, but too timid to ever do anything about it. But the way he's hooking his fingers up, pressed tightly against your spot makes you lose all rationale. You almost forget that you were out in public, the pavilion open enough for anyone to walk past and know exactly what's going on.

You're grinding yourself against the palm of his hand as you will yourself to take his fingers deeper.

The coil is unfamiliar but so so welcomed as you feel your hole clench erratically at how good he's making you feel.

Yoongi betrays you for a moment and goes against your words to stay still because your face is absolutely stunning under the moonlight, and all he wants is to see you unravel; quite literally in the palm of his hand.

He begins finger-fucking you with rapid snaps of his wrist with a vigour you only see in his sword-training sessions, and the calloused palm of the man who spent years wielding the sword is proven delirious against your pussy.

"You're gonna cum for me, aren't you? My pretty girl?"

The term of endearment falls from his lips and you think that's the first time he's called you anything but your name or alluded to the fact that you were his.

The thought itself is what sets you free from the coil in your stomach, pussy clenching tightly against his fingers as he rubs rough circles against your clit with his thumb to prolong your orgasm.

"F-Fuuuck," You drawl, becoming lose-lipped as you gasp for air, squelching still echoing as he fucks you through the orgasm, "Y-You're so—good to me ..." You mumble, coming down from your high.

You've stained your robes with sweat and your release, and you feel absolutely satiated when he pulls out of you.

You've never seen Yoongi look anything less than composed, so when he brings the fingers that were drenched with your arousal and cum to his mouth to suck on it, you already feel your pussy flutter back to life.

"You taste so fucking go—"

You cut him off by throwing yourself onto him, lips locking with his even as you taste yourself on his tongue.

You thought after an orgasm that you'd have enough, but there was something about Yoongi sucking your essence into your mouth without any hesitation that made you want to make him feel good too.

Your hand cups him through his slacks, groaning into his mouth when you feel how hard he feels against your palm—big under your small hand.

"_______ you don't—"

You bite his lip in retaliation, squeezing his cock in your hand and rubbing your thumb across his slit as you feel his pre-cum leak out of his tip.

"Fuck ..." He hisses when you lick into his mouth, unbothered at the fact that you taste yourself on your tongue.

Yoongi reaches his hand to the back of your neck to bring you closer, all while tugging your hips to meet his own.

"Wanna suck your cock," You pant.

Yoongi's unbelievably hard that he actually thinks his dick is going to fall off.

Seeing you with your salacious expression of pure, unadulterated lust shocks him all while pleasing him, knowing that he's able to evoke this type of effect on you.

While your mouth was collateral on its own, never missing a remark or to remind him that you were unafraid of his stereotypically terrifying persona—you were real. Soft and honest when your eyes allowed him to get a glimpse of the woman he's learned to ... the word so real and scary in his mind, but his heart speaks for him, while his actions paint the picture.

"_____ ..." He pulls away, biting his lip at your fucked out expression.

You whine, pressing your hips tighter against his while he hisses at the contact of your wet folds against the outline of his cock.

"Call me yours," You ask, wide eyes looking up at him.

Yoongi fingers stop at your hips when he looks at you—properly that is—your eyes begging him with the plead you've uttered. He likes you like this. Hot for him, a little desperate.

"Hm?" He feigns disinterest as you whine at him, clutching at his robes.

"P-Please Yoongi—just wanna be yours," You whimper.

"Do you ______? What about Namjoon? Jungkook?" He taunts, eyes locked on yours.

You shake your head vigorously.

"N-No! Y-Yours, Yoongi."

And his, you were.

He leans in to kiss you, much gentler than previously but still full of desire—a mark against the flesh to claim yours as his.

"My pretty girl?" He questions and you whine so loudly that his eyes blow out in shock.

"Yours—I'm yours, Yoongi."

He growls, hooking your leg around his waist as he grinds against your centre; causing you to mewl in pleasure at the friction.

"You can have my cock in your mouth another time, okay?" He whispers against your cheek and your pussy clenches at the prospect of another time.

You nod your head, looking up at him with obedient eyes.

"Wanna fuck you so bad ..." He caresses your cheek as your eyes widen, a grin teasing your lips.

"P-Please," You pant.

"But you deserve a proper first time, hm?"

You weren't one for social constructs and you didn't care where Yoongi first had you, even as your first—all you wanted was him and you'd have him anywhere, anytime he'd have you.

“Fuck I don’t care—just—fuck me—p-please …“ You whisper.

He observes your features for any sign of hesitation but finds none, only desire.

“You sure? Because once my cock comes home I’m never letting you go.” He whispers like it’s a threat but you’re only more turned on.

“T-This pussy—yours,” You gasp and Yoongi groans at your crude words, “I-I don’t care—just want you—only you.”

Yoongi feels the need to kiss you so he does. He kisses you hard and deep like he’s mapping every inch of your mouth while you whimper into his own. When he releases you, he feels his heart and stomach clench in desire.

The moment Yoongi brings his cock out as your eyes follow his line of vision, you feel like you could cum just by the visual alone.

He's huge.

It's as if his overwhelming aura was every aspect of him, from his stature to his walk and to his cock. The tip was leaking with pre-cum, an ooze that makes your mouth water and pussy clench for more. You've never seen a penis up close—but it's rough and delicate, but like Yoongi—and you decide you need him—soon.

"Fuck me—p-please,” You beg, breath hitching.

He aligns the tip of his cockhead against your quivering hole, and you release more wetness just at the thought of him fucking you out here—where your moans accompany the moonlight and his heavy breathing.

"Relax for me." He hums, pushing in ever so slowly.

The tip is the largest part of his cock, but you push through as you welcome the stretch. You didn't fight with swords day and night just to tap out now, not when Yoongi looks at you like you're the only thing that matters.

With every inch that he enters you, you feel yourself feeling fuller and fuller.

If his fingers felt overwhelming, his cock was the greatest gift bestowed upon you. You felt like you were on cloud nine, especially when he bottoms out, hips flushed against yours as he pushes the remainder of his length in.

"You see that?" He grips your chin so you'd look at him, "Look at how your pussy sucks up my cock."

You wail, hitching your hips up to chase friction and you whine when you feel his cock nudge every corner of your wet heat.

He hisses, other hand tightening against your hip as a warning.

"M-Move—please," You're extra polite because all you want to do is fall apart on his cock.

Yoongi doesn't drag it out any further when he pulls out just so the tip remains, and slams into you with a brutal force that quite literally knocks the wind out of you.

He's rough with his thrusts, never faltering when he hikes your leg higher up his waist so he'd be able to angle his cock against the spot that makes your heart accelerate, and legs shake.

He shows the stamina he's developed over the years as a sword-master with the way he's locking his hips with precision and keeping his eyes on yours the entire time—observing every scrunch of your face along with the breathy gasps that escape your mouth.

At a particularly hard thrust that he stills for a moment, ensuring his cock is rubbing against that spot deliciously—you scream, back arching into his chest as he swallows your wails of pleasure with his mouth.

"What would people say if the noble _____ fucking herself on her sword-trainers cock like this? Hm?" Yoongi spits and when he points it out only do you realise you're moving your hips at a rapid pace, unaware of how they move in their own accord.

You can't keep your mouth shut nor can you respond because Yoongi is fucking you so good, and even with the brutal force of his hips he's able to hold you up with the strength of his arm. You feel the muscles of his bicep flex against you because he has his arm wrapped around your body so tightly, tits flushed against his chest.

You have the sudden urge to reach out to him and hold his head close, a contrast to the dirtiness of your actions.

Yoongi leans into your touch even as he fucks you to the brink of your release, his hips beginning to stutter as you look at him with dazed eyes.

"So pretty like this.” He grunts.

You feel a sense of pride to know that you're what it took to get Yoongi—the man who has everyone on their toes—like this. Feral, giving in to his animalistic desires as he reaches out for your warmth.

"M' gonna cum," You gasp when he pulls your hips down to meet his last thrust.

“Where do you want my cum, pretty?”

"A-Anywhere!" You choke on your breath when you feel your orgasm hit you all at once, your body falling limp in his embrace as his arms keep you up.

You feel Yoongi's cock twitch inside of you until he's releasing gushes of his hot cum into your walls. He cums so much that you feel him slowly slipping out of your heat as it trickles down your thighs.

The two of you attempt to catch your breath as he still keeps a firm grip on your body; knowing your knees would give out if he weren't there to help you. Your hand is still gentle on his cheek as you brush the matted hair away from his forehead, offering him a dopey smile.

Yoongi leans into you, capturing your lips into a soft kiss, one that wasn't rushed nor expected to lead anywhere.

The two of you bask in each other's presence for a few more moments, until you realise that you're still very much in public with Yoongi's cum spilling out of you, a hair breadths away from staining the floor.

"Yoongi—your cum," You hiss.

Yoongi looks down and smirks, appreciating the view and only is disrupted when you thwack him on the head. He helps you pull up your undergarments, even as you wince through the discomfort as he wraps an arm around your waist to steady you on your feet.

“You seemed to like it a lot.”

Your ears burn as you glare at him, but it lacks any real anger when he chuckles at your reaction.

"I think the real conversation here is about your jealousy issues," You retort petulantly.

You see Yoongi's lips purse as he narrows his eyes at you.

"I don't like sharing what's mine."

Your heart stutters even though Yoongi doesn't look at you directly when he says so, his facade returning but you see his heart above anything else.

“Am I, Yoongi? You never asked." You shrug your shoulders.

He tongues the inside of his cheek, absorbing your words without responding for a few seconds as you wrap the robe tightly around your abdomen, cold air sending shivers down your spine.

"Would you ..." He clears his throat, and you don't think you've ever seen Yoongi look anything but assured. So, to see him with flushed ears and nervous eyes make your heart grow fonder.

"Would I ...?" You bite your lip, offering a teasing smile up at him.

He huffs, wrapping an arm around your waist as he brings your head to lay on his chest.

"Don't look at me like that," He snaps.

You giggle, clutching his robes when you feel and hear his heart beating against his chest.

"Why not?" You provoke him even further.

His grip around your waist is still tight as if he's afraid you'd slip away.

But who would tell Yoongi that you were always his?

"I don't want you to look at me when I ask," He tells you, fingers tapping your hips.

"Ask what Yoongi?"

You continue prompting him because you find it adorable how a man like him who has people quivering in fear and doesn't give most people the time of his day is so nervous on asking you a question with an obvious answer.

"Would you ... would you like that?" He coughs.

You raise an eyebrow as you look up at him, chin resting on his chest when your eyes fill with deviance.

"I like a lot of things Yoongi—you have to be more specific."

He still avoids your eyes and grunts, squeezing your hip when you continue to tease him.

"Would you want to ... bewithme?" He rushes his words.

Your eyes gleam when you lean forward, face close to his.

"Could you repeat that—?"

You yelp when he places his large hands on your cheeks, finally looking at you with earnest.

"I'm really bad at this so please don't do this to me.” He snaps.

You giggle, wrapping your arms around his waist.

"I really like you, Yoongi."

You think this is the first time you've explicitly told him how you've felt for him, and you can tell he's shocked when the words leave your lips.

"I was yours since you told me you believed in me." You whisper, lips grazing against his.

He swallows as you smile softly at him.

"I've never felt this way about anyone before," He confesses, "You're the only person that I look forward to seeing and ... when I saw Jungkook and Namjoon."

He shuts his eyes as your lips twitch, a giggle bubbling in your throat.

"I really want you to be mine," He sighs.

You nod your head, pecking him on the nose as you nuzzle your head into his broad chest, feeling the way it moves up and down with every breath that he takes.

"Happy birthday to you then," You smile cheekily.

He fondly grazes your cheeks, holding you unbelievably closer.

"Happy birthday indeed." He sighs, and you can feel the smile on his face when he kisses your forehead.

extra scene

"Happy birthday hyung!" Jungkook greets Yoongi the moment he steps out of his chambers in a large hug.

Yoongi grunts at the force, as he notices Jimin and Taehyung following behind him with a bowl of seaweed soup in celebration.

"Thanks, kid," Yoongi mumbles.

"How're you spending your birthday?" Taehyung asks when he settles the bowl on the table in front of his room.

Yoongi bows his head slightly thank the younger man as he shrugs.

"Same old. I have a session with _____ later and I need to assign Kim-ssi to his students."

“Bo-ring. Why don’t you ever do anything fun?” Jimin scoffs, “What did _____ get you for your birthday?”

The older man stutters for a second when he recollects the night you shared out on the pavilion and more after the two of you returned to his chambers in tangled limbs.

“She wished me,” Yoongi says curtly.

Jimin tries to spot any sign of unsureness but Yoongi was a hard book to read.

"Speaking of, where is ______? Shouldn't she at least be celebrating—"

Speak of the devil and she shall be summoned.

"Yoongi where are your—"

You step out of Yoongi's chambers, draped with his luxurious robe, chest slightly exposed enough to see the marks Yoongi littered on your chest after he took you back to his private chambers.

You freeze when you see three pairs of wide eyes staring back at you as you yelp, tugging the robe shut across your chest as your cheeks redden.

The only thing you hear when Yoongi tugs you closer to him by your hand and greets you with a kiss is:

"Hope the gift was good, hyung!” Jungkook cheers.

"You're not off the hook yet, brat."

[bamf-jaskier]

I’m reading a non-canon short story written by Andrzej Sapkowski about Geralt and Yennefer’s wedding called Something Ends, Something Begins and my heart is literally so full. Even Asaps has to get tired of having so much angst so this short story is a literal fluff-fest and I love it so much. 

So I thought I would share some of my favorite quotes from the story and if you all want to read it, here is the link. 

"One day she'll break her neck," growled Yennefer, watching Ciri galloping in the splashing water, bent, firm in the stirrups. "One day your crazy daughter will break her neck."

Geralt turned his head and without a word looked into the sorceress's violet eyes.

"All right, then," smiled Yennefer, without averting her eyes. "Sorry, our daughter."

She hugged him again, pressing herself against him firmly, bit him in the arm again, kissed him, and bit him once more. Geralt touched her hair with his lips and carefully pulled her gown over her shoulders.

I am literally...I swear, we finally get domestic Yenralt and it isn’t even in the canon universe. I am literally going to fight someone. This is so damn cute and the way Yennefer is like “our daughter” my goddamn heart. 

The list of the guests wasn't that long. The engaged couple compiled it together and charged Dandelion with sending the invitations. Soon it turned out that the troubadour lost the list before he could even read it. Because he was ashamed to confess, he used a cheap trick and invited whomever he could. Of course he knew Geralt and Yennefer well enough that he didn't miss anyone important, but it wouldn't have been him if he didn't enrich the list of the guests by an admirable number of quite random persons.

Why does it just make sense that Dandelion would fuck this up? It’s so in-character, putting him in charge of the guest list was the first mistake. 

No one invited the golden dragon Villentretenmerth, because no one knew how to invite him and where to look for him. To the general astonishment the dragon turned up, of course incognito, in the form of the knight Borch Three Jackdaws. Of course, where Dandelion was present, one could not speak of any incognito, but even so few believed when the poet pointed at the curly-haired knight and claimed it was a dragon.

The image of Dandelion just pointing at this dude and yelling “He’s a dragon!” is fucking hilarious, especially when you consider most people don’t know dragons can shapeshift. 

"Was it you who invited

Triss Merigold?

"No," the witcher shook his head and silently praised the fact that the mutation of his blood system didn't allow him to blush.

"Not me. I think it was Dandelion, even though all of them claim to have learned about the wedding from the magical crystals."

"I don't want Triss to be present on my wedding!"

"But why? She's your friend."

"Don't make a fool out of me, witcher! Everyone knows you slept with her!"

"That's not true."

Yennefer's violet eyes narrowed dangerously.

"It is true."

"Is not!"

"It is!"

"All right," he turned around angrily. "It is true. So?"

The sorceress was quiet for a moment, playing with the obsidian star on the black velvet ribbon around her neck.

"Nothing," she said at last. "I just wanted you to admit it. Never try to lie to me, Geralt. Ever."

I love the little bickering. Also, like, even though Triss and Yennefer are friends try valid of her to not want her at the wedding. She slept with Geralt!! Love how Geralt tries to deny it at first but gives up ten seconds later. Geralt really tried to pull the “just friends” card and Yennefer was having NONE of it. 

The doppler accused Villentretenmerth of racism, chauvinism and lack of knowledge on the discussion's topic. Therefore, the insulted Villentretenmerth changed for a moment into his natural dragon form, destroying several pieces of furniture and causing a general panic. When the situation calmed down, a fierce quarrel began, in which humans and non-humans accused each other of lack of open-mindedness and racial tolerance. 

A quite unexpected twist in the discussion came from the freckled Merle, the whore who didn't look like a whore. Merle announced that the whole debate was stupid and pointless and didn't concern true professionals, who don't dinstinguish between such things, which she was willing to prove on the spot (for an adequate reward, of course), even with the dragon Villentretenmerth in his natural form. 

In the silence that fell abruptly in that instant they heard the female medium proclaim that she's willing to do the same, and for free. Villentretenmerth quickly changed the topic and began discussing safer topics, such as economics, politics, hunting, fishing and gambling.

Everything about this sequence is perfect, absolutely prime. Dragons and Dopplers fighting, Merle saying she would fuck a dragon in dragon form. This has EVERYTHING. 

"I'll get going right after the feast," Ciri repeated. 

"I want... I want to feel the wind in my face on the back of a galloping horse again. I want to see the stars on the horizon again, I want to whistle Dandelion's ballads at night. I'm longing for a fight, the dance with a sword, I'm longing for the risk, for the delight victory brings me. And I'm longing for solitude. Do you understand me?"

"Of course," Geralt smiled sadly. "Of course I understand you, Ciri. You're my daughter, you're a witcher. You'll do what you must. But I must tell you one thing. One thing. You can't run away forever, even though you'll always try."

"I know," she replied and cuddled herself closer to him. "I still have hope that one day... If I wait, if I'm patient, then I, too, perhaps will live such a beautiful day like this... Such a nice day... Even though..."

"What, Ciri?"

"I've never been pretty. And with that scar..."

"Ciri," he cut her off. "You're the most beautiful girl in the world. Right after Yen, of course."

"Oh, Geralt..."

"If you don't believe me, ask Dandelion."

"Oh, Geralt."

Ciri telling Geralt she wants to travel and move on is just heartbreaking but it makes sense. She has more adventures to go on. Geralt’s story is ending. Hers is beginning. Also Ciri feeling insecure about her appearance and Geralt being a good dad and comforting her? Amazing. 

"I have unfinished business there," she hissed. "For Mistle. For my Mistle. Even though I avenged her, but for Mistle one death is not enough."

Bonhart, he thought. She killed him out of hatred. Oh, Ciri, Ciri. You're standing on the edge of an abyss, daughter. Not a thousand deaths would avenge your Mistle. Beware of hatred, Ciri, it consumes like cancer.

"Watch out for yourself," he whispered."I'd rather watch out for others," she smiled ominously. "It pays off more, it works better in the long run."

I will never see her again, he thought. If she leaves, I will never see her again.

"You will," she answered unexpectedly and smiled with a smile of a sorceress, not of a witcher. "You will, Geralt."

When Geralt asks what Ciri plans to do on her travels she literally says: I am going to avenge my dead girlfriend and murder some people. Which is not a healthy coping mechanism but damn if the idea of a gay revenge story doesn’t sound good to read. 

The priestesses Iola and Eurneid also sobbed, when Yennefer refused to put on the white wedding dress they had made for her. Not even Nenneke's mediation helped. Yennefer cursed, threw around hexes and dishes, while repeating that she looks like a fucking virgin in white. 

The enraged Nenneke began yelling, too, and told the sorceress that she behaved worse than three fucking virgins at once. Yennefer responded by conjuring a ball of lightning and demolishing the roof of the corner tower, which had its good side, too. The crash was so terrible that Caldemeyn's daughter got shock from it and her diarrhea stopped.

Once again, this scene has EVERYTHING. Yennefer getting so pissed it demolishes a tower. The shaking being so bad it stops diarrhea. Also, why does Asaps use diarrhea so often in his books? You know what, I don’t want to know. 

Triss Merigold and the witcher Eskel from Kaer Morhen, were seen again, sneaking, arms linked, into the garden summerhouse.

Is that...IMPLIED TRISSKEL?? OKAY THEN. All the Trisskel friends out there: They hooked up at Geralt and Yennefer’s wedding I don’t make the rules. 

"Yen..."

She looked breathtaking. Black wavy locks, curled up with a golden tiara, fell in a shining cascade over her shoulders and the high collar of a long white brocade dress with black-striped sleeves, pulled together on a bodice with countless drapes of lilac ribbons.

"Flowers, don't forget the flowers," warned Triss Merigold, all in dark blue, and handed a bouquet of white roses to the bride. "Oh, Yen, I'm so happy..."

"Triss, darling," sobbed Yennefer all of a sudden, upon which both sorceresses embraced and kissed the air around their ears and diamond earrings.

"Enough of those endearments," ordered Nenneke, smoothing the folds on her snow-white priestess dress. "We're going to the chapel. Iola, Eurneid, hold her dress, or she'll kill herself on the stairs.

Triss and Yennefer’s friendship is so sweet sometimes. Like, they would literally murder each other but they would also murder FOR each other too. 

Yennefer approached Geralt and with a hand in a white lace glove she straightened the collar of his black cloak, embroidered with silver. Geralt offered her an arm.

"Geralt," she whispered into his ear. "I still can't believe it."

"Yen," he answered her in a whisper. "I love you."

"I know."

I don’t know is Asaps is purposefully referencing Star Wars here but either way this had me tearing up. Geralt and Yennefer deserve a happy ending and even if it’s not officially canon the author wrote it so this is canon in my head. 

The wedding was splendid. Ladies and maidens cried collectively. Herwig was the master of ceremony, a former king, but still a king. Vesemir from Kaer Morhen and Nenneke stood in as parents of the betrothed couple, Triss Merigold and Eskel as witnesses. 

Okay but why is Asaps sneaking in the Trisskel? I want more of it and this pairing definitely intrigues me. Also Vesemir and Nenneke as their parents? That’s so damn sweet. I swear to fuck this entire short story is too damn cute and I want more of it. 

I cannot stress how much I love the energy Merle brings to the table. Saying she would straight up fuck a dragon. The power of it all. 

[notalittlebutalottie]

Oh!!!! Caroline and Klaus are both attorneys on opposite sides of a case. They are litigating which party can go to which social venue on which days (I've actually dealt with this shit) and both of them are fed up with their clients for being ridiculous.

Hey, I hope you’re doing well. I wanted to fulfil something small for you and this was sitting in my drafts just begging to be finished!

♡ KLAROLINE DRABBLE #56: The Coffee Shop on Third ♡

It had taken Caroline some convincing but as Katherine was utterly incapable of playing nice, she agreed to represent her in the divorce. She liked Stefan and she couldn’t say she approved of Katherine’s actions but the choice opposing council was already introducing some bias. If his best man was representing him, then her maid of honour would help balance things out.

Klaus had sent her a message prior to their first proceeding not long after she agreed to it.

I look forward to a good and clean fight, sweetheart.

Naturally, she spent the following ten minutes debating on the level of flirtation she could get away with. Ever since the wedding, they had cultivated a fine friendship of equal parts provocative and rivalrous. Their views on the law and general courtroom etiquette differed—he was Law and Order while she was more Legally Blonde—but their obvious physical attraction was undeniable. At group events, they engaged in lengthy debates, always itching to just say to hell with it and let the alcohol take charge. Yet they had done all but crossing that line.

Afraid to get your hands dirty?

She had chewed on her nails after sending it. She didn’t usually take such a bold route but the wine she had been drinking that night was mighty encouraging.

If you’re willing, game on.

So far, the proceedings had gone smoothly. Stefan got their apartment, their dog (Katherine was never really a pet owner) and their television. Simple. That was until it came to social venues. She laid her pen over the papers and stated, “My client believes it’s only fair she gets the coffee shop on Third as she was the one who introduced your client to it.” She watched Klaus carefully, trying to evade any and all ogling of him in that well-tailored suit. Though they talked law, they had never seen each other in action and now that she had? She was interested in another type of action.

Stefan interjected before either council could reply or add, “Well, if your client believed in fairness, she wouldn’t have slept with my brother.” He was leaning far into the table, shooting daggers at Katherine, who was coolly inspecting her nails.

Klaus sighed and began to place a hand out on the table. “Stefan, mate.” Caroline pressed her lips tightly at the sight of his Adam’s apple bobbing. It was really the last thing she should have been thinking about during the deterioration of their friends’ marriage but it was so easy to get caught up in the idea.

Katherine hummed, “Maybe I wouldn’t have slept with your brother if you hadn’t been flirting with my cousin.” She finally gave him eye contact and grinned.

“Elena and I were just friends!” Stefan argued, gesturing wildly. Caroline couldn’t help the small smile on her lips (Stefan had always had a soft spot for Elena) and when she found Klaus staring right at her with the same expression, she bit down.

“Yeah?” Katherine, as grandiose as ever, rose from her seat, the six-inch heels she had insisted on wearing only adding to the drama. She rested her fingertips on the table and leaned forward to whisper, “How was your date last night?”

“That happened after you slept with Damon,” he retorted, his whole face scrunching at the words. She exchanged a blank look with Klaus. They all knew that wasn’t strictly the truth. Emotional cheating was just as detrimental to relationships. It just so happened Katherine was the one inclined to the physical. Stefan eventually huffed and flitted his hand out. “Fine. You can have the coffee shop. I get the bistro.”

“Now, that’s unfair!” It was Katherine’s turn to raise her voice. Caroline tugged her by the wrist, encouraging her to sit down. Katherine obliged, thankfully, but there was no chance of such obedience occurring in any other context. “You know that bistro is the only place I’ll eat burgers from!”

Stefan offered a short smirk, folding his arms tightly. “Then I want the coffee shop on Tuesdays and Thursdays. That’s when you can have the bistro.”

Katherine’s eyes widened and she not so politely, pointed out in offence, “I’m a vegetarian on Tuesdays, you asshole!”

Klaus shot a dull look Caroline’s way and she nodded. She took Katherine by the arm and leaned away from the table to whisper, “Can’t you be a vegetarian on Wednesdays?”

“Absolutely not!” Katherine whispered back with a sharp tone. She then gestured loosely to her body, eyebrows raised. “My modelling agency has me on a strict meal plan.”

Caroline’s brows knitted closely. “Then why the hell do you want the bistro so badly?”

“I don’t really,” Katherine murmured, a small laugh choking out under her breath, “I just want to piss him off.”

Caroline’s lips parted as she watched her friend shrug. “Jesus, Kat...” she groaned, rubbing her temples. She loved the girl but she could stand to be a little less...everything.

“Miss Forbes?” Klaus called softly across the table. His voice was pure heaven to her ears, the kind that she could fall asleep and wake up to.

She fluttered her eyelashes and threw a glance his way. “My apologies,” she replied abruptly, sitting up straight. “My client will accept those terms under the condition that only she may use the Mystic Nightclub on Fridays.”

“Nice,” she heard Katherine mutter beside her, undoubtedly smirking. Yes, that was more her preference than Katherine’s, but their divorce impacted her social life just as much as theirs.

Stefan was swift to whine, “But Friday is their double shot night!” It was in moments like this it was easy to remember he was the youngest in his family. The straining notes of displeasure were so obvious.

“Miss Forbes, my client has been rather generous considering the circumstances,” Klaus attempted to point out, tilting his head towards Katherine. If this were settled in a bar, she was sure his language would consist entirely of insults. Katherine had landed on her feet and in the bed of Klaus’ older, better dressed (her words) brother not long after the divorce was filed. That only added insult to Stefan’s injuries, including, but not limited to, estrangement from his own brother. And seeing as Elijah was staying with Klaus for the time being, it was complicated.

She tossed her blonde locks behind her and remained firm in her reply, “Your client can have any other day of the week.”

Klaus studied her for a moment, eyes narrowing. She had no time to consider how attractive it was; they were negotiating on their friends’ lives, after all. With the clearing of his throat and a small adjustment of his tie, he asked, “Don’t you think such an agreement might have an impact on third parties?” His brows twitched upward and his eyes searched hers.

Caroline knew exactly the reason for his question. Mystic Nightclub had been the location of one heated dance between them not too long ago. It was also where she had come to realise he was the magnet for many other pretty ladies. It wasn’t a game she would play unless she was sure to win. She traced an invisible line across the page, her pen hovering, and mused, “That depends on one of the third parties’ intentions, Mr. Mikaelson.” She offered him her blue eyes, raising an eyebrow.

“They are most pure, I assure you,” he replied calmly and the corners of his lips curled just a tad. It was a familiar expression. He had used at the club one night. One more drop of alcohol and she would have bit the bullet. Oh, she was so screwed.

“God, get a room,” Katherine finally groaned, slumping back against her chair.

Stefan squared his shoulders and nodded. “That I can agree on.”

“Fuck off, Stefan.”

                                                REVIEW HERE

[gunnerpalace]

I belonged to another heated (but no longer debatable imho) ship were I've known a lot to be IH. And ofc I feel bad they have to bear witness to people so salty about the ending and hated Ino. I hate Ino too with burning passion, and that kinda made me feel guilty. But the psychology major in me was baffled as to how they conclude immediately w/ no analysis she was hated not only because of ships but because either she was written terribly, or she was written to be terrible. Or probably both.

Why cant Ichigo and Rukia be married to someone we could *infer* (because duh it’s not canon they will argue) they are in love with? Someone they have shown to share bond with? “Oh well, its becoming commonplace that the hero doesnt end up w/ main heroine, it’s revolutionary!” Bullshit. Sadly that is logic fallacy you dumbasses. Where’s the progress? Kubo tried, barely even. And again, it’s not even about the ships, its the entire work that has become an anomaly–Bleach as became Bleauuughch.

Again, I feel bad they have to bear the weight of evert criticism, the insult, and the salt of basically a majority of bleach fandom. But I hope they can tell that majority (like 99.99999999998%) of the criticisms are valid and not just hate. If they couldnt bear to actual do analysis of why people hated it, then dont bother plead or guilt trip or go to ppl inboxes why should we just move on. Well, majority already did that’s why all was left were ppl who couldnt be bothered with actual quality.

Here’s the ugly truth about people: they can’t read.

Or they don’t want to.

We have this holdover idea from the Enlightenment that if you can gather enough evidence in fine and exacting enough detail, that you can not only discern some kind of truth, but convince other people of it through the preponderance of evidence. And we have structured our society around that idea, from politics to law to science to academia in general.

The trouble is that that idea is bullshit outside of academia.

That is not at all how regular people approach the world.

And the more we rely upon an idea that people are rational, the more we will be lost at and disappointed by the actuality that people are irrational and emotional.

Consider climate change. The scientific community has had roughly 97% consensus that climate change is being anthropomorphically driven (that is to say, somewhere between overwhelmingly and entirely caused by human activity) since at least the very early 2000s, if not back much earlier. Indeed, we know that the oil companies were aware of it at least as early as 1981! And here we are in 2020, with some 31% of the population either unsure of or disbelieving in it.

Whenever the matter is debated politically, scientists will trot out their facts and drop them on the table and point. The facts are self-evident, they feel. And then the conservative politicians will shrug and say, “I don’t believe you.”

And the scientists have no idea what to do about that. Because to their minds, facts are indisputable. You cannot argue with them.

But you can, as the conservatives illustrate. You just choose not to believe in them.

We are witnessing something very similar with COVID-19 at the moment, with large swathes of the (American) population simply not believing it to be a threat, in spite of all available evidence to the contrary.

We see the same thing with political leadership debating the question of whether to prioritize health or economics, and our media treating this as if it is a legitimate policy debate, when we already know the answer to that question from the Spanish Flu of 1918: towns and cities that were locked down and quarantined suffered fewer casualties and had much faster economic rebounds.

People generally do not read.

People generally do not process.

People generally do not analyze.

People generally do not learn.

And if they can’t do those things for very large-scale existential threats that can threaten anything from tens to hundreds of millions of people worldwide, to the entire ecosphere of the planet, why would one expect them do so for a piece of fiction?

If people cannot handle cold, hard statistical facts, or simple arithmetic, then they certainly cannot handle something as “subjective” as facial expressions or dialogue. I have written recently about how the attitude toward non-fandom things (e.g., politics) increasingly resembles that of fandom, of approaching everything as though it is merely an aesthetic exercise.

That is really what we are dealing with here: ignorance. And not merely ordinary ignorance, not even willful ignorance, but an ignorance so deliberate and cultivated that its goal is nothing less than the total erasure of the facts. (The problem here, in this particular example, are of course the people who say unequivocally, “Ichigo always loved Orihime,” in spite of all evidence to the contrary. Someone who says, “It is clear to me this wasn’t a thing, but I like IH aesthetically,” is a non-issue.)

(Demanding or trying to force this former perspective does, as you suggest in the third ask, indicate a certain insecurity and a tacit admission that the perspective being advanced is illegitimate or poorly substantiated. However, for the people so enthralled to openly admit that is a psychological admission of defeat so severe that most would literally rather die than own up to being wrong to such an extent, and to suffer the attendant internal loss of face. So they seek continual external validation of it to shore it up.)

There is, in essence, no point in communicating with this kind of fan whatsoever. They are functionally like how Kyle Resse describes the Terminator in The Terminator:

Listen, and understand! That Terminator is out there. It can’t be bargained with. It can’t be reasoned with. It doesn’t feel pity, or remorse, or fear! And it absolutely will not stop, ever, until you are dead!

There is a lot of tepid discussion out there in political circles that the degree of polarization in society today is unprecedented and that a way to bridge that gap could be through shared interests and values. But in my opinion, fandom proves exactly the opposite is true: the reasons people like things that are nominally “shared interests,” and their view of those things and why they are good, are completely and utterly irreconcilable. There is, essentially, virtually zero overlap in a Venn diagram of the perspectives. Shared interests divide as much as they will ever unite.

In that regard, Bleach should be treated as both a warning and a grim assessment of our world as a whole. It is not really an aberration.

It is the future.

This community (among others) has simply been living in it a few years in advance of other people. Everyone else has gotten their first big taste of it with Trump. (The Republicans have been constructing an alternate reality since 1964, but comparatively few people were aware of how deep the rabbit hole went.)

In my estimation, it is not worth engaging with people over a shared interest with sincerity, let alone in good faith, unless you have done some degree of vetting of their perspective. Most likely observing them or their works for a time. Without that, you simply open yourself up to these people who show a total lack of discernment or rationality.

And that is a large part of why social media is such an absolute garbage fire, because as platforms they are built around precisely the opposite notion. (And largely in defiance of the idea that people might want to curate their experiences or might not want to have “healthy debate,” which is almost never healthy and seldom ever debate). Some would argue this leads to echo chambers and hug boxes, but it’s not like the alternative that these companies have produced (for profit, of course, rather than for of any ideological mission) is any better.

To boil it all down, what we are really forced to rely on (quite sadly) is a free market approach: no matter how much that side rages and waves their “canon” status around, they simply do not produce much content. They will starve long before our side does, regardless of any other factors. (Their “canon” status did not help them any in the past four years.) And the people who are agnostic (e.g., the “I’m Still Bleach” crowd that is for some reason vaguely invested in the series as a whole) will lose interest and move on to the next shiny thing.

The only thing that is necessary in the face of all this is really patience. In the meantime, the best thing is simply to ignore the existence of such parties utterly.

[bigskydreaming]

I really encourage people who have legitimate gripes with something I say or express on here to like.....either just DM, @ me directly or if you’re going to pop into my inbox to debate something with me, like, do so off anon, even if you ask that I don’t publish your ask and just respond to you in private. I always abide by that if people ask me to do that, and I’m 10000x more likely to treat your complaint or disagreement with dignity even if I completely disagree with it, than like....if you go on anon with it. 

Because dunno if you’ve noticed, lol, but there’s kinda a tendency with people who pick fights with me on anon or who @ me in general with some form of “LOL I can’t believe you’re so dumb as to believe this thing [that you don’t actually believe or else is not at all actually what I’m framing it as being],” to like.....only really do so in an attempt to trip me up, expose me as a hypocrite or pull some kind of ‘Gotcha!’ So, realistically, it just is not possible for me to give most anons who disagree with me the benefit of the doubt or for me to assume they’re at least coming from a place of actual honest disagreement rather than just....playing games, which I fucking despise and I refuse to respond to with respect. 

I sound ridiculous in nine out of ten of my over the top responses to people giving me shit, because of...deliberate intent on my part. *Shrugs* Because I personally consider it to be extremely ridiculous, how often I have people trying to poke holes in things I say, by.....poking at stuff I never even say, lol. 

I don’t actually always believe I’m right about everything, but I fully understand how my tone can convey that I do think that in a lot of these back-and-forths, because.....the one thing I do pretty much always think I’m right about is what it is I’m actually saying or believe. And thus, I really do not care for people trying to tell me I said otherwise, when I have a looooot of proof to point to how even when I’m being like, King Ridiculous in how I say or phrase something....nobody ever seems to have trouble comprehending my points on pretty much any topic across the board......until it happens to be a point I make on a matter they take issue with.

So just a general PSA, do with it what you will, but like. I’m just saying: 

I know I’m contentious, and I don’t actually want people to just automatically 100% take everything I say as fact or just never disagree with me, since that’s like....the polar opposite of pretty much my entire belief system or view of life and how to go through it lol. 

Buuuuut it honestly is exhausting constantly being hit up by people in bad faith, and who prove over and over again that they are perfectly comfortable saying or doing anything with no loyalty to even their own arguments, as long as it nets them a ‘win’ in arguing with me for the sake of arguing or whatever the fuck their motivation might be, I honestly do not care, lol. And I’m just......long past assuming that someone who is approaching me on anon to argue or contest something I’ve said or a position I’ve taken, is doing so in good faith instead of just as part of a twelve step plan wherein they disingenuously go about trying to lay some kind of convoluted ‘trap’ to lure me into. As though any of this is worth that fucking effort in the first place. LOL.

So by all means, disagree with me, contest me, put the screws to something I say and force me to defend my point further.....but like.....just be fucking honest about it. Or be willing to put your URL/name to it when doing so, even if you ask that I keep it out of public view, so that at least I know you’re not one of my half a dozen hate-following Regulars who habitually pop up on anon pretending to be someone brand new until three messages later when they’re like “Surprise! You thought I was just some rando, but here I am with the same receipts I’ve been claiming to have for the past half a decade!” (Oh no, much shock, mortification, oh unknowable plot twist, who could have ever seen that coming). LOL, y’know what I mean? Like, if you’re off anon or if you at least @ me with something approaching at least SOME modicum of respect, I’m soooooo much more likely to not just dismiss anything and everything you say from the word go, just because the sheer novelty of that approach is gonna be more engaging to me than, like, Me Vs Some Rando Whose Opening Gambit Is “Well Actually.....*proceeds to argue against points several galactic light years north of anything I’ve ever actually said ever*”: Round Fifty Two Bajillion. 

Like yeah, I’m rude as fuck in a lot of the arguments I get into on here, because I’m not a big fan of turning the other cheek and also I’m not gonna gloss over the ugly in something someone says just because they couch it in ‘civilized, well-mannered discourse.’ So I’m not at all offering some carte blanche guarantee or a secret password for how to go about saying something vile to my face without me responding by verbally ripping your head off, lol, I just mean like.....you ever have some free time to kill, go back through my archives to my earliest posts on this site. You can literally WATCH the slow expiration of my Give-A-Fucks in real time. I usually position myself to be the Reactive part of an argument on this site deliberately.....I don’t go starting things unless I’m weighing in on something that crosses my dash and already is looking ugly as hell, and for the most part, 90% of the fights I get into on this site are people approaching me to begin it, and y’know.....I don’t owe it to anyone to treat them or their position with more respect than they approach me with. LOL. And also, I don’t owe it to my own reading comprehension or that of anyone else who is similarly not an idiot to treat the ‘faux-respect/politeness’ people are addicted to on here as anything other than rudeness couched in the additional insult of assuming I and others are too stupid to see the subtextual disdain. Like. Nope. Miss me.

Bottom line is just, I’m not looking to be yet one more person giving people who are legitimately questioning things they’ve been told or led to believe, like, reason to be too intimidated or afraid to actually question these things rather than just keep to their personal status quo in an effort to avoid confrontation. But I’m always going to be trying to balance that with being equally not a fan of enabling people who play-act at being too fragile or delicate to face up to their own behavior or the ugliness of their own opinions or stances if its delivered to them in ways that inspire them to cry-type about how like, its not their fault society told them it was okay to shit on entire groups of people as long as they could safely get away with it.

There’s a line there and I’m no tight-rope walker so no, I don’t have all the answers and am not actually trying to pretend I do, and believe it or not, I put a lot of thought and introspection into constantly self-evaluating not just my own stances and beliefs, but the why’s of them, and the how’s of how I go about interacting with others because of them, or talking about them, or anything of the like.

But because I do put a lot of effort into that myself, I am aware of like....there not really being an excuse for others not being similarly willing to do the same with their own behavior, beliefs or approaches to others, so.....meet me halfway, is all this really comes down to. To anyone who genuinely does find themselves at odds with things I say or troubled by viewpoints I espouse or even just flat out confused as to how to reconcile something I brought up with contradictory beliefs they’ve long held or been instilled with and are just trying to figure out which actually sounds more right to them now.

I do not want to be the bogeyman who is just so intimidating that even when he says something that makes you go ‘huh, maybe this thing I thought was wrong, but I’m not sure,’ you’re afraid to follow-up and explore that further in a back-and-forth with me. But I’m similarly disinclined to be used as the strawman/patsy/etc of people who are just interested in trying to manuever me into some conversational position they feel they can use to discredit me in front of their own followers and thus cement their own bullshit position that way. 

I just happen to get a lot of the latter, and that kinda plays directly into why I so often end up defaulting to the former. That’s not actually an excuse and so its more than fair for anyone to think that’s no reason to change their mind about me, a thing I’ve said or a way I’ve said it. But if fair is actually a thing you’re interested in, then please consider factoring all of the above in when deciding how or why or in what ways you approach an argument or disagreement with me, if you find yourself inclined to do so in the future. 

I would appreciate it, and even more importantly, I promise you it will be far more productive in encouraging me to actually argue or debate a point with you. As opposed to just making light of anything you say to me, much like I feel most approaches to me make light of the things I say, and thus.....my tendency to default to variations of LOL, you got some dumb on your face there buddy.

ANYWAYS.

Thank you for your consideration in this matter,

The Extremely Tired and Over It Management

[fipindustries]

why is it so hard to grasp for some people? im not trying to control you, or to “censor you”, or to take away your freedom of speech. im not asking you to just agree with me, i dont even want you to necessarily change your mind. all im asking is that you dont openly insult my ideas to my face. im asking for the bare basic common courtesy, there is such a thing as polite disagreement, is just basic human decency, not me being triggered or being a snowflake leftist, like jesus how rotten is your brain by partishanship? how absolutely flattened have been your brain processes to a black and white view of the world that you can only think in terms of “the ingroup” and “the outgroup”. 

say that im wrong, say that you find my ideas misguided or misinformed or incorrect, hell, even dangerous. but there is no need to go down to insults. not when you are ostensibly my friend, when we have shared so many things, when we supposedly care for each other, when i extensively go out of my way all the time not to shit all over your opinions. when i ask for the basic human respect of not insulting me to you, my friend, i expect that you will extend that courtesy.

“if you are offended by what i say then the problem is with you having a big ego and i dont have to change anything about my attitude”? FUUUUCK you, we’re supposed to be friends, you asshole. if a stranger insults me then whatever, i dont give two shits, if a friend insults me and that bothers me the least one would expect is for my friend to stop doing that.

“im just stating facts” look motherfucker if i had a christian friend i wouldnt be greeting them like “hey have you talked to your imaginary friend today?” or if i had an obese friend i wouldnt go around calling them “lardass”, because they would be my friend and i would care about their feelings and i dont want to hurt them. its the social contract, we make those small concessions for the other’s sake because that build a functional society, you piece of shit.

and for christ sake sont say im a bullheaded ideologue when you have succesfully changed my mind about plenty of subjects, when i have conceeded the points that i am not capable of arguing for and you have never ever done the same for me. because whenever you ran out of arguments all you do is claim that i am just “good at rethoric” and that just because she cant argue for a point that doesnt mean she has to acknoledge that my ideas make sense.

like do you have any idea how many things i keep to myself because i know they will just make you angry? you have any idea how many comments or obervations i hold back because i know you will get all disgusted with me and start claming that i am a brainwashed useful idiot? and yet you constantly share all of your dumbfuck positions and i always engage with them in honest debate without ever getting scandalized by anything you say, who is the fucking snowflake here then that i can keep my composure and argue back but you cant hear my ideas without shitting yourself in disgust.

AND THE WORST PART IS that you yourself insist that we shouldnt talk about politics because you know how upset it gets you, which im perfectly fine with, and yet despite that you still cant help but to throw comments here and there shitting all over my opinions but if i insist on challenging you, oh now we are talking about politics and i am the asshole here, what, am i supposed to just shut up and take it? get bent

like, you are angry, i get it, because most people around you, your family, your friends, your classmates, everyone online, the leading political party, they all seem to disagree with you and you feel like you are the only sane person in a world gone mad, and then you see your closest friend, someone whose intelligence you have admired in the past, someone who seemed to agree with you at first suddenly starting to agree with the rest of the world and that must be frustrating, it must be down right maddening and you feel abandoned and attacked on all sides, but you dont have to take out on them when they have given you kindness and patience and respect even when they disagreed with you.

[bae-leth]

I had a bunch more stuff I wanted to say about Faris and Natalia’s relationship in the Fraldarddyd family AU but I thought it would be easier on everyone to put all my thoughts in one submissions instead of sending a dozen asks this time. Also, lol, I can’t believe I keep coincidentally giving these characters the names of your relatives, what the heck???

Let’s just go over Faris first. He’s a friendly and social guy. He’s obsessed with the stars and can talk about them for hours if given the chance. He’s a smart guy and super politically savvy, perfectly at home in even the most cutthroat political climates. He’s known to be very mischievous and prone to pranks, though the less he likes you then the harsher his pranks can be. He and Natalia are the same age but he’s a couple months younger, which she loves to hold over him especially after he grows taller than her. He and Zain are pretty close despite Zain loving to give his little brother shit whenever possible. I see him being magically gifted, so I imagine him as a Warlock. I see him mainly taking after Claude in terms of looks (I don’t really have a spouse in mind for Claude in this AU so I’m leaving that part kinda vague).

Strengths – Reason, Authority; Weaknesses – Axe, Brawl, Heavy Armor; Budding Talent - Lance

Zain is two years older than Faris and basically anyone who meets him considers him a stern and serious no-nonsense kind of crown prince. This is how he’s like around most people. However he allows himself to relax and show off a much more playful, emotional, teasing side around people he trusts wholeheartedly (his immediate family and a small handful of friends). He resembles his brother in having the same eye color and skin tone, but Zain looks much more rugged and mature. Unlike Faris he is perfectly at home on the battlefield, being a renowned Sniper with plenty of victories to his name. He never became a Barbarossa like his dad cause he’s scared of heights. He enjoys the ocean a ton, so he’s always up for ocean voyages and will take any and every chance to explore coastlines.

Strengths - Bow, Axe, Authority; Weaknesses – Faith, Flying; Budding Talent - Riding

The whole engagement thing between Faris and Natalia is largely unofficial and both sides mainly just want their kids to become close to promote good relations between Fodlan and Almyra. Although things would really work out the best if the pair did become romantically involved but no one is really pushy about it. Especially since Faris and Natalia just do NOT like each other. Honestly the only thing stopping the first meeting between the royal children from being a complete disaster is that both Faris and Zain quickly become attached to Artemis (prince of stealing hearts without even trying). Faris and Artemis latch onto each other since they have so much in common (second princes, good at magic, similar weaknesses, bookworms, etc) while Zain ends up considering Artemis like another little brother while Artemis really look up to Zain (it’s thanks to Zain that Artemis’ budding talent is bows). Also Zain actually ends up being friendly with Natalia too (he likes her strong, honest personality and honestly he finds the disaster that is hers and Faris’ relationship hilarious, plus she thinks he’s super cool and likes sparring with him). So it’s literally just Natalia and Faris at odds with each other.

“If you like Artemis so much, why don’t you marry him instead?!” “Maybe I will!” “Fine!” “Fine!” “FINE!” “FINE!!!” *Zain and Artemis in the background, talking about their favorite desserts and not getting involved in their siblings’ fight*

“Claude I’m starting to doubt if this will work out. The two of them hate each other.” “Well Felix hated you plenty for a few years and look at you now. Adorable little lovebirds, a love story perfect for the bards to sing of!” “Listen here you little-” “Felix please.”

In order to try and help Natalia and Faris get along they’re both sent to visit each other’s homeland a bunch over the years. Occasionally the whole family goes but the rulers can’t keep running off all the time. So most of the time it’s Natalia (and Artemis because Natalia barricaded herself in her room until her dads agreed to let her take Artemis along “to see that stupid Faris’ face”) visiting Almyra for several weeks and then a little while later it’s Faris visiting Fodlan, particularly Faerghus, for several weeks (only bringing Zain when he’s in a particularly bad mood thanks to Natalia since Zain keeps making fun of him otherwise).

Faris is kinda sorta okay when he’s in Faerghus, even though it’s absurdly cold most of the time. Hell, every time he thinks he’s wearing enough the weather proves him wrong. Natalia keeps laughing at him when he has to dress up like a marshmallow in order to go out in Faerghus winters. Natalia is very brutal in snowball fights…RIP Faris. He definitely prefers to stay inside by the fireplace, though Natalia is insistent on dragging him outside. It usually ends in him spending the last few days of his stay sick in bed.

Natalia, like Dimitri, is dead in heat so every time she goes to Almyra she spends around a week just laying on her bed wearing as little as proper manners will allow. Faris alternates between “helping” by practicing his ice magic on her or otherwise relying on her need to do better than him to goad her into playing with him. Though he had to lay off on that after Natalia got heatstroke once.

Natalia considers it a personal insult that her beloved horse absolutely adores Faris when he’s usually very picky about who he allows near him (“Ares, how could you do this to me?!” *neighs* “Oh don’t give me that attitude young man!”)

Faris, in the meanwhile, is not pleased by how his retainers-in-the-making are absolutely smitten with Natalia (“Did you see her in yesterday’s spar with the new recruits? She could break my spine and I’d thank her.” “Please, sweet embrace of death, come for me.”)

Artemis and Zain start being regular pen pals as they compare archery notes, seek advice from one prince to another, talk about recent events in their homeland and in their lives, and complain about their siblings/commentate on whether or not they’ll get together.

“I don’t know, Zain, after that incident with the birds Sister said, and I quote, ‘The next time I see that scrawny piece of *ahem* garbage, he’s dead. Almyra will be down a prince and they’ll be all the better for it.’ So I’m saying no.” “I’d agree with you, especially since Faris has been disturbingly interested in researching dark magic after eating those ‘super special Faerghus delicacies’ Natalia brought last time. But for as social as he is my brother is normally never so obsessed with anyone, so I think we may have a romance for the ages on our hands, my friend!”

The two of them play PLENTY of stupid pranks on each other over the years. Sometimes they flat out got into physical fights with each other. The people of Fodlan and Almyra have long since gotten used to the sound of Faris and Natalia yelling at each other and then the sound of crashing and punching.

That being said, not everything was bad between them. That one time Natalia got heatstroke, Faris was genuinely apologetic and worried about her and kept her company while she was bedridden. Likewise Natalia does feel bad when she keeps getting Faris sick while trying to show off Faerghus to him and will read him adventure stories to pass the time. Also I love the idea you mentioned of Faris trying to help Natalia get over her low spice intolerance (to mixed results, Natalia’s just glad she no longer downs an entire pitcher of water on her own after eating Almyran food). One time when a Faerghus noble child made a snide remark about Faris being Almyran, Natalia tackled the brat to the ground.

Faris, holding a tissue to Natalia’s bloody nose: “I thought you didn’t like me.” Natalia, very obviously confused: “??? What does not liking you have to do with you being Almyran?” Faris: “Heh, I suppose you’re right for once.”

“Zain, I think I want to change my opinion. Sister and Faris may have more of a chance than I originally thought.” “What did I tell you, Artemis? Romance for the ages…”

As the years pass and Natalia and Faris both grow and mature and mellow out, the two of them start to consider each other friends. They speak more, debate more, discuss their interests more, and slowly start to enjoy spending time together. Eventually it gets to the point where the two of them joke around about their kinda sorta engagement to each other. Natalia singing the absolute worst love songs while Faris writes the cheesiest poetry and love letters imaginable. Calling each other cutesy pet names, those kind of shenanigans.

Honestly, they mostly do it just to fuck with poor Zain and Artemis, who didn’t ask for this bullshit but are stuck with it anyways.

“Artemis, I need you to kill me, I can’t tolerate them anymore.” “Come now, Zain, it’s not so bad! Hey, why don’t we go for a ride on Altena? That always calms me down!” “I cannot stress enough how much I would rather die than do that…” “What are you trying to say about my sweet Altena, huh?” “Would you stop taking it as an insult against your wyvern every time?!”

Natalia starts teaching Faris about fighting with lances. And Faris helps Natalia grow more used to handling politics.

Honestly, there was something special growing between them for quite some time after they started getting along better, but neither of them really recognized what it could be. But they kept getting closer and closer as time passed. At public events they stuck by each other’s side and often danced together. They were seen going off on rides together or just taking walks while talking.

Faris is the first one to recognize his feelings when he comes along to help Natalia out with a skirmish. The pair make a great team in battle, covering for each other’s weaknesses well. Faris, too exhausted after a large number of enemies surrounded him, is almost taken down from behind when Natalia saves him. His joke has a fair amount of relief and gratitude in it when he says “Thanks for the help, sweetheart!” But WOW when Natalia turns to him with the most dazzling smile on her face, looking like she practically glowing with the sun behind her, Faris feels like his heart stops. “Anytime, honey!” And Faris just keeps staring after her as she rushes off after another enemy.

Natalia was always pretty but Faris has never actually acknowledged how pretty until that moment. And his heart won’t stop racing, her smile and voice still in his head. And oh fuck, oh shit, he knows exactly what this is…

“Zain, you umm…you wouldn’t happen to know when the next visit to Fodlan is, would you?” “…Why do you ask, my dear little brother? :))))))” “…Are you going to tell Arty about this?” *Zain, pulling out a piece of parchment and quill* “What gives you that idea????”

Faris regrets everything when his parents and brother don’t let him live it down that he’s now realized he’s in love with Natalia. “Whatever happened to ‘I’d rather become a hermit and die alone and unloved on a barren mountain than ever marry her’ Faris? Seven-year-old you was soooo dramatic!” “Father, please.”

Things don’t change too significantly after Faris’ realization. But there are changes. He’s noticeably softer around Natalia, smiling gently around her or going along with her wishes more easily. Most of his pranks towards her tone down to being things that give her pleasant surprises. The most significant change comes from the love letters and poems purposefully written badly for jokes slowly becoming more sincere sounding and really sweet.

Natalia doesn’t know what to make of the changes. They’re odd but she’s more surprised by how much she enjoys it. She even reads Faris’ letters and poems over and over well into the night. A warm and peaceful feeling spreads through her every time she gets a new letter from Faris or he holds her closer than usual during a dance.

She doesn’t realize it’s love until sometime later when she visits Almyra. Faris is so bright and excited as he drags her outside in the dead of night because the skies are so clear that you can see way more stars than normal and it’s soooo beautiful. Faris happily explains the stories behind all the different constellations and laughs so happily recalling some of his favorite tales. Natalia stares and stares at him and thinks that she could watch him smile and laugh like that forever. At some point Faris starts holding her hands and pulls her close to him as he keeps pointing out constellations and telling her stories. And Natalia tries so hard to concentrate on his words but all she can focus on is his hands and how warm they are and so much bigger than hers and how she wants him to keep holding her and-Oh. Ooohhhh…Oh fuck…

“So, Sister, you enjoyed your last visit to Almyra a lot, didn’t you?” “Hmm? What gave that away, Artemis?” *Natalia, lying on her bed surrounded by all of Faris’ letters and poems to her, giggling to herself as she reads them* “…Just a hunch.”

“Felix, it seems Claude was right. He tells me Faris is rather obviously smitten. And it’s easy to tell Natalia is in love. While I’m sad at how quickly the children are growing up, it’s wonderful to see them so happy, isn’t it?” “Uh-huh yeah sure, do you think this blade is sharp enough or should I take it back to the blacksmith? I want it ready before the Almyrans come visit next month.” “…Why are you-?” “You know damn well why.” “Felix.”

“Well it seems you and I will get to call each other ‘brother’ soon enough, Artemis! Or well, hopefully soon enough. It depends on how long it takes our stubborn siblings to take those final steps.” “Agreed. But I’ve already thought of you as my brother for a long time now, Zain. We’ve known each other for so many years! Your one of my dearest friends and my brother in all but blood. :)” “…” “??? Zain, are you crying-?” “*sobs* NO, I’m not!”

[netraptor]

Fanfic: Gunshy

This is a short fanfic I wrote of @newbabyfly ‘s characters, but mostly about Gideon. When a warlock girl meets Gideon and runs away from him in panic, he’s drawn into a web of blackmail and cruelty centered around Gambit and a Shadow of Yor it’s been attracting. But can Gideon save this girl, or will they both become prey?

Chapter 1

Gideon didn't expect to find trouble among the books in the Archive that day. The big warlock studied the bookshelves in the Vanguard Archives, absently running his fingers through his silver hair. After deliberating for several minutes, he selected a stack of books on the Roman Empire. His broad shoulders brushed the bookcases on either side as he edged out into a study area. Here were several tables with chairs, a few other warlocks scattered among them.

The Tower archives were a combination library and computer lab. Gideon went there often to study and soak in the peace and quiet. After intense missions in the field, or a lot of Gambit, it was nice to sit with a few books and a tablet, reading about Earth's long-vanished past.

He set his books on the nearest table. A human girl with improbable bubblegum-pink hair looked up with a frown.

"Excuse me," he said. "Mind if I sit down?"

The girl nodded and slid her own books to the side.

Gideon pulled out a chair and sat down, then flipped open one of his books. As he did, he happened to notice the Roman coliseum on the front of one of the girl's books. "You're studying Rome, too?"

She nodded and inched her chair backward. Her eyes flicked over him, then down to the book. "Yes, I'm ... researching Roman architectural design. I've actually visited Rome, and many of their buildings stand to this day. Including the coliseum."

"Really!" Gideon leaned an elbow on the table. "Did you go inside?"

The girl gave him another quick, up-down look, as if he was a hostile alien and she was scanning him for weapons. "No, I ... there was a Fallen encampment inside. I couldn't get close."

"I've visited Venice," Gideon offered. "Or what's left. It's mostly underwater, now. But the books say it was once a city with waterways instead of streets."

The girl winced and suddenly rose to her feet. "Excuse me, I ... need to go." She left her books and almost dashed for the door.

Gideon's ghost, Emery, phased into sight above Gideon's left shoulder. He wore a sparkling disco ball shell, and his blue eye blinked curiously after the girl. "That was odd."

"Her sudden departure?" Gideon said. "Yes, quite strange. She even left her books."

"No ... I mean, she was afraid of you. The moment you sat down, her heart rate elevated. I took it for attraction at first, but her stress level began rising, too. She departed in the midst of an anxiety attack."

Gideon blinked at his ghost. "Why should she be afraid of me? We're fellow Guardians."

"I don't understand," Emery muttered. "Well, her ghost tag says that her name is Sienna. I suppose we'll recognize her if we ever see her again."

"For a person named Sienna," Gideon agreed, "her hair was far too pink."

Gideon would have forgotten Sienna, except that she was in the Archives the following day, too. He'd returned his books and selected more, only to notice the tell-tale bubblegum hair across the room. Sienna was bent over a book with her back to him, and hadn't seen him come in. Her ghost floated at her shoulder, watching the room.

"I'm going to introduce myself," Gideon thought to Emery through their bond.

"All right," Emery replied. "Maybe she won't be so frightened if she knows who you are."

Gideon crossed the room and stood beside Sienna's table. Her ghost whispered to its guardian. Sienna looked up and started, hands flattening against the table. A little lightning flickered over her fingers.

"Hello," Gideon said with his most engaging smile. "I believe I frightened you yesterday. That was not my intent. I'm Gideon."

The woman sat perfectly still, staring up at him. He was reminded of a cornered deer he had once watched the Fallen spear to death. Sienna had the same wide-eyed, desperate look.

Her ghost whispered to her, then looked up at him, too. It wore a blue and orange Vanguard shell.

Sienna tried to smile. She only succeeded in baring her teeth. "Hello. Gideon. I'm Sienna. Do you mind?" She flicked a hand, asking for space.

Gideon stepped back, and Sienna rose to her feet. The top of her head only reached to his collarbone. Gideon was taller than most people, at 6'8, but he dwarfed this girl.

She tried to face him, but as she looked at him, she gasped as if suddenly unable to breathe. She darted sideways and fled out the door, leaving her books behind once more.

Gideon gazed after her. "Should I be insulted, Emery?"

"Uh ... I don't know." Emery usually guided Gideon through sticky social situations, but the ghost was at a loss this time. "She's genuinely afraid of you. Have you ever interacted with her before? Crucible? Gambit?"

"Not that I know of," Gideon replied. "And I'd remember that hair. This is ... passing strange."

He glanced at her books. Instead of Rome, this time, all her books were about the Hive.

No sooner had Gideon left the Archives than he received a call from his teammate, Echo-3.

"Hey Giddy!" she said through the ghost link. "Killy's off training baby hunters, and Stoomdorm's busy. I just took an assignment to thin the Vex on Venus, but I need a fireteam. You and Nika game?"

Gideon groaned. "Nika's in the Dreaming City for the next month. I'm up for a mission, for what it's worth."

"Just you, huh?" Echo said, sounding disappointed. "We need one more. Who do you know who's free?"

A random thought crossed Gideon's mind. "I just met this warlock named Sienna. Maybe she'd be available."

"Right," Echo said. "I'll give her a call. Hold please."

"Her ghost is playing hold music," Emery said. "Do you want to listen?"

"What music?"

"Metallica."

"No thanks. I prefer the Beatles."

Gideon headed down the Tower walk toward the living quarters at the far end. After the loss of the old Tower during the Red War, the Vanguard had relocated headquarters further down the wall, where there was another hanger and lots of unused space. Guardian quarters were inside the wall itself, several floors down.

As Gideon clanked down the metal stairs, Echo's voice returned. "Talked to Sienna, nice girl. She agreed to come along. How do you know her? Should I be jealous?"

"I met her in the Archives," Gideon replied. "We share the same tastes in books." He didn't mention the panic thing, since he didn't really understand it. "No need for jealousy, Echo."

"Uh-huh," she said. "Well, suit up. We're shipping out in an hour. I need some of that sweet glimmer to buy a new sparrow that just came in."

"Echo, you already have three sparrows."

"And they're slow! This one has a nitro booster. I've got to buy it before some other hotshot does."

Gideon and Emery rolled their eyes at each other.

"Oh," Echo added, "bring your sword. You want to impress a girl, swords do the job."

Gideon thought about this as he unlocked his apartment door. "Is that a euphemism?"

"No," Echo said with exaggerated sincerity. "I never make lewd jokes. How dare you suggest it, Giddy."

"Don't call me Giddy," he said, and motioned for Emery to cut the connection.

"She'll be mad," Emery said.

"No, she won't," Gideon said, locating his favorite armored combat robe with the belt made of chains. He'd known Echo practically since he'd resurrected. Killy had more or less trained them both, and their team was more like a loose dysfunctional family.

He outfitted himself in an enviro suit, then the armored robe, then selected his weapons. Definitely the compound bow. He'd been practicing with it for months and could put an arrow through the eye of a Hive Knight at three hundred yards. A hand cannon for close range. He lingered in front of his weapon rack, dithering between the replica Ace of Spades and a far shadier weapon called Malfeasance. In the end, since they'd be fighting Vex, he took the Ace.

He topped off his selection with a sniper rifle, and he was ready. He nodded at Emery, who transmatted him to his ship in the hanger--a quick flash of light and a sensation of flying through the void.

Echo waited nearby, tapping one booted foot. She was an Exo, a human intelligence in a robot body. She wore heavy Titan armor that concealed her hourglass figure and tossed an auto rifle from hand to hand.

"There you are!" she said, waving at Gideon with her rifle. "We just need our third and off we go."

Gideon thoughtfully pulled his helmet on and fastened the straps.

When Sienna transmatted in, she didn't seem to recognize Gideon. She nodded politely to both of them, then approached Echo and shook her hand. "Pleased to meet you. You're the fireteam lead?"

"Hell yes," Echo exclaimed. "Time to murder some robots."

"Is it murder, then?" Sienna mused.

Echo laughed. "We can debate it in transit. Let's get out of here."

As Gideon climbed the ladder to the cockpit of his jumpship, he caught a glimpse of Sienna staring at him, gripping her own helmet until her knuckles turned white.

This mission might not be as straightforward as he'd hoped.

[meganlpie]

Swan Princess -pt. 1

Anonymous asked: Meg, may I please request an AU with Loki?? Maybe like a Swan Princess AU(based off the movie)?? I would love you forever!!

Here you are! I’ve had to split this into 2 parts since it was getting so long!! I do not own Loki, Thor, Frigga, or Odin. In this case, they belong to Marvel. 

Warnings: mentions of kidnapping, angst. Movie-based AU

Pairings: Loki x fem!reader, Thor, Frigga, Odin

Loki groaned as yet another summer approached. He had absolutely no desire to waste another beautiful season following you around. But there was no changing it. It had been the same since you were children. Since your families had arranged your marriage that neither of you wanted. Growing up, you hated each other. You thought Loki was conceited and rude and Loki thought you were awkward and far too flirty with the guards. Only Thor saw through Loki’s protests as you grew older.

           Now the fateful summer had come. The last you would spend together before the marriage ceremony. And Loki was dreading it completely. Luckily for him, your meeting would be postponed until the feast that night celebrating your engagement. As soon as you had arrived on Asgard, you were immediately escorted to your room. You claimed to be weary after such a long journey. Thor and Frigga had been the only ones to see you.

           "Princess Y/N is no longer the gangly girl you remember Loki. She is much changed,“ Thor told Loki after coming into his rooms uninvited and unannounced yet again. "I don’t care, Brother. She could not have possibly changed enough to tempt me or capture my fancy.” Thor shrugged and left, leaving Loki alone with his magic again until supper.

           Loki arrived first, as always. He wore his very best as was expected of him, including his horned helmet. He stood next to Thor while he waited for you to appear. The door opened and Loki stiffened slightly. He wasn’t ready for this. You stepped through the door. Your (e/c) eyes immediately found Loki. He was stunned into silence for once. Thor had been right. You really weren’t the same girl who had been in the palace the summers before.

           You had grown into your gangly limbs. Your curves had filled out nicely and your face had a beautiful shape. Your skin looked smooth and soft from where Loki was standing. Your eyes shone brightly and your hair framed your face. You moved with the grace and poise of princess. Only Loki caught the slight stumble you made when you stepped on the front of your dress. You giggled lightly to yourself and continued on. Loki was in complete and utter shock at how stunning you were. A real swan.

           You stopped in front of Odin and Frigga first, curtsying low. Then, you turned to the princes. “Prince Thor. A pleasure to see you again. Prince Loki,” you greeted politely, with a demure smile. Loki finally snapped out of it. “Princess Y/N. Welcome back to Asgard.” He stepped closer to you and took your hand in his. His lips barely touched the back of your hand, but he felt you shiver all the same.

           At the feast, Loki couldn’t keep his eyes off you. You caught him staring every single time and, when you did, you would smile demurely and look away. But Loki caught the glimpses of mischief in your eyes. He needed to see it far more often.

           When he finished eating, Loki asked you to dance. As you danced, the two of you had the first real conversation you’d ever had. The insults had all but disappeared. The ones that were passed between you were playful. Suddenly, marriage to you didn’t seem so bad. Loki thought he could come to enjoy it, actually. Unfortunately for him, you weren’t going to give in so easily.

           "Why, Prince Loki?“ Loki glanced down at you in confusion. "Why are you suddenly being so kind to me? Why now do you seem less opposed to our marriage?” You asked, batting your eyelashes up at him. “Why not? You are beautiful?. You frowned a little. "Thank you…but what else?” Loki seemed even more confused by the question. Was it not enough for you? “What else is there? What other reason could there be?”

           Apparently that was the wrong thing to say. You dropped your arms and stepped away from him. “You’re an idiot, Loki,” you whispered before darting from the room. Loki just stood there in shock. You had left him standing in the middle of the room by himself. Everyone was staring at him now and he had never felt more embarrassed. He turned on his heel and left the room in the opposite direction you did.

           Later that night, Thor and Frigga had joined Loki in his chambers. “Brother, even I must admit that you did not choose your words carefully in this instance. A lady wants to be wanted for more than her outwardly appearance.” Frigga smiled at her sons and nodded. Loki groaned as he sank down in his chair. Every once in a while, Thor hit the nail on the head.

           Before Loki could respond, the door to his chambers flew open and his father walked in, followed by yours. Both men looked distressed. “Father?” Your father looked completely shaken. Odin turned to Loki, his one eye boring into his raven-haired son’s. “It’s Y/N…she’s be taken.”

*time skip*

           Four months. That’s how long you’d been missing. There had been few clues. Only a necklace you’d been wearing around your neck at the feast. That didn’t stop Loki from searching for you day and night. He drove himself near insane with worry and guilt. If only he hadn’t insulted you the way he had, you wouldn’t have run and wouldn’t have been taken. He only wished he had more to go on. You could be anywhere by now.

           Loki couldn’t help but think back to the feast. Why had he said what he did? He didn’t just want to marry you because you were beautiful. In the moment, that was all he was focused on, but there was so much more. You were witty and charming. You had a side of mischief that you hid under a mask of sweet demureness. Like Loki, you loved to read and you enjoyed your solitude where you could get it. And Loki loved getting into heated debates with you. They showed a passion just bubbling under the surface that he wanted to see more of. And now he’d lost you.

           "Loki, you will drive yourself to madness,“ Frigga told him, resting a hand on his shoulder. "I have to find her, Mother,” he muttered without looking up from his book, “This is my fault and I have to fix it.” Frigga gave him a smile. “You could not have predicted this. We will find Y/N, but you will be of no use to her if you do not rest.”

           The prince finally glanced up from his book. His eyes were filled with tears that threatened to spill. “I love her,” he whispered, “I never thought I would, but I do. Now she’s been taken from me and I may never see her again.” Frigga wrapped her arms around him, letting him sob. “I know, my son. Your father and I both knew you would come to love her. It is why I agreed to the arranged marriage in the first place. And because of this, I know you will succeed in finding her.”

           Frigga let her son cry until the door was flung open. Thor was panting, but wore a huge smile. “Loki! I have discovered a way to find Y/N. Though I am surprised you didn’t think of it first.” Loki pulled away from Frigga. “You have Y/N’s necklace, do you not?” Loki nodded and let his mind work. It hit him like a freight train. Of course. “A tracking spell. I can use the necklace and track her!” Loki jumped up from his chair, nearly knocking Frigga down. In a moment of uncharacteristic joy, Loki ran up to Thor and hugged him close. “Thank you, Brother.” He let go and ran from the room. “I will find you, my love,” he muttered as he ran through the corridors.

(a/n: I hope you like part 1! Part 2 will be posted soon!) 

Tagging: @brewsthespirit-blog @gameofwinters @fairytalesexistxx @jotink78 @iwillbeinmynest @thomashiddlestonloveloki @elriviel

[automatismoateo]

Some Christian "friends" called me "wicked" because I am introverted via /r/atheism

Some Christian "friends" called me "wicked" because I am introverted

TL;DR: Some Christians I met who were my "friends" disowned me because I didn't want to socialise with their congregation, called me "disrespectful and wicked", and told me to never contact them again.

I moved from the absolute middle of nowhere town to the city for university. Where I'm from, most people are religious conservatives/nationalists, which isn't an issue on the face of it. If you're a good person, I truly don't care what you believe. I believe in political and religious freedoms, so long as they don't encroach on the freedoms of others (glad I don't live in the states in that regard). A lot of the friends I grew up with were Christians, but it never mattered because they weren't the 'in your face about God 24/7' type. I moved to the city with no real expectations, except that I shouldn't see as many crosses over the place. Boy was I wrong. My mail is filled with letters from churches routinely (I'm lucky I don't get calls every day from these people) and I am approached by evangelists on my university campus every week (even in the streets).

The most ironic part though is that some of the people I've met and grown close to are the religious type, Christians specifically. At first I didn't care, most don't force you to be like them and think like them. But slowly they kept trying to get me to join them at Bible discussions, come to Church, study the scriptures, springing events on me, invite me to things under false pretences or meet with me just to discuss the reasons I don't believe in a god. Don't get me wrong, I love a good old fashioned debate every once in a while, but Christians do tend to argue in bad faith or deny outright facts when it is convenient for them.

One my friends, someone who I would say I am pretty close with, asked if I would attend a special event that his Church is holding. Normally I would respectfully decline but he is a "young prophet", and would be doing a "preach off" against some others at the church, so I obliged him as a friend, to support him in his endeavours. I am a pretty introverted person and deal with some fairly intense trauma and difficulties when I need to go into public spaces, let alone large public events. As such I was pretty quiet at the event, and didn't socialise with the congregation too much. The event was interesting and I was glad to see my friend enjoy himself so much, but I was most glad to get home after the evening.

Next day, one of my friends calls (not the one who asked that I go to his Church) and wanted to know if we could meet for a coffee. I meet him a few hours later thinking we'd just have a day out and chat, like normal. Instead I am greeted with a barrage of insults and criticisms. It started with me being asked if I know the definition of "arrogant".

"You are selfish and arrogant" and "You were totally disrespectful, you are a wicked person"

When I ask why I am met with:

"You did not go any talk to the preachers at the church" and "you did not try hard enough to be like Christ"

At first I kept a level head. Tried to reason with him, explaining I am not religious and not too interested in becoming a Christian. He continued:

"If you cannot be like Christ then you cannot be a good person, what I saw was disrespectful"

I became much more enraged, explained I have lived through some traumatic experience that makes me slow to trust and engage with people. He cut me off and said

"I do not want to see you again, please do not come back to the church and refrain from contacting us again"

I'm far too happy to oblige. If they think I am being punished by not being able to contact these assholes again, then I honestly don't know what to say. These people who preach love and happiness sure have some special ways of showing it. Some of the few friends I've been able to make disown me purely because I'm not overly social.

"Christian love" my ass.

Submitted July 15, 2022 at 12:42PM by Oily_biscuit (From Reddit https://ift.tt/emraciS)

[csykora]

So, this took me a bit, but I think there are a couple Choices around this incident that are worth taking the time for us to take apart, rather than letting sports media drag us into a narrative. 

I want us to have a lasting discussion, because there are lasting patterns in our thinking that keep leading us into this.

1. “entangled with Oshie”

By this point, that isn’t mutual entanglement.

It’s a pretty big deal when a hockey player’s feet aren’t underneath them. Oshie was kicking both feet for purchase, with no secure hold on the ice. When that happens you are tapped out of the fight.

If this were out on open ice or against the boards, Oshie would have gone down, visibly ending the fight. But here, Malkin has him against the half-wall, pushing his head backwards while his feet slip forward out from under him. Oshie can’t fall cleanly. If Oshie went down in that position, the unprotected back of his head would come down on the top of the half-wall. That would be what I like to call “BAD.” The only thing keeping that from happening is Oshie’s hold around Malkin’s neck. Oshie isn’t letting go because he can’t risk letting go.

Typically, if you happen to push something too close to the half wall, you back up. You either allow Oshie to get his feet back under him (at which point he would almost definitely let go of that stranglehold and just try to rebalance himself), or pull him a safe distance from the wall to take him down fully. This happens often; it’s not really a subject for debate. 

You need consent for a hockey fight; you need respect and a mutual interest in safety. That’s what makes it a game and not assault. Most hockey fights are negotiated. The players are conscious of where they are, they know the physics at play, and they plan for their own and their partner’s safety. Teams and players mutually agree to on of what is and isn’t acceptable harm. 

Setting aside everything before this picture, at that point, Malkin chose to keep pushing Oshie’s head backwards, knowing that his feet were off the ice and that that is outside the accepted bounds of behavior.

2. “while” and 3. “yapping”

The implied timeline is simply not what the tape shows. Tom Wilson was cursing at Malkin throughout (and made a couple moves that might have been to get in behind Oshie’s head). 

Kuznetsov was four Caps away down the bench. Even if you could hear him over the others, you can see that his face is set and silent, mouth closed, until the ref has moved Malkin all the way down to where he’s sitting.  

But more than that, looking at his face here, I’m having trouble with ‘yapping.’

I think we all should listen a little closely when animal verbs are used about people.

Saying someone is ‘yapping’ doesn’t mean the same thing as ‘talking’ or ‘shouting’ or ‘lecturing’ or ‘cursing out.’ It’s a deliberately small word.

Now, I disagree with it from a purely descriptive perspective—whatever he said looks loud, clearly enunciated, and short and succinct to me, which makes “yapping” just plain poor writing.

But that in particular is also a charged word to choose.

People use it plenty casually. We’ll call big Tom Wilson yappy, ironically, to bring him down a bit, make a little fun of that part of the game. And that’s not my favorite—but it’s meaningfully different when there’s no irony.

It’s not an explicitly misogynistic word, but it’s certainly a gendered one. The first thing you think of is a purse dog and a woman who won’t stop talking about something that doesn’t really matter.

So when you’re describing one of our lighter, smaller, more delicate-featured guys, with a reputation for talking about ‘silly things that don’t matter’, and the inherent contrast is someone the size, shape, and reputation of Evgeni Malkin, and that’s the first word that springs to mind…that’s worth questioning.

I don’t know what Kuznetsov said, but at least one possibility is that he was angry that his friend pushed his colleague off his feet into a wall and held him there when Malkin knew that position put Oshie’s head and neck in danger and that Oshie will be at critical risk with another concussion. That’s not a petty thing. But it’s amazing how easy it is to dismiss that if we cover it like it’s not even worth covering.

3. “Which is why he was irate”

You know, this isn’t something I can point to as factually incorrect, but it’s a striking use of the passive voice. 

Malkin chose to push Oshie and hold him down, he chose to pull away from the refs to try to get back to Kuznetsov, and he chose to stand in the hallway yelling at someone who he could see was not responding.

To me, Kuznetsov speaking to Malkin to begin with fits within a recognized role, and I’ll come back to it*. If you want to debate that he was trying to deliberately upset Malkin, I’d do that here. 

The way Kuznetsov chose to respond to Malkin asking for a fight was pretty distinctive. Personally, I’m sure that Kuznetsov’s (lack of) reaction to the yelling was deliberate, because I’ve seen him go expressionless like that before. He knows that people (Malkin in particular) wind themselves up even further when they’re looking for a response and he looks blankly back at them.

But you know, whatever you read into Kuznetsov’s motivation, he didn’t do much of anything. It might have been deliberate, but it wasn’t active, it followed the accepted rules of behavior within the game: it was the definition of killing someone with politeness.

Yeah, I think he wanted Malkin to be angry. I think Malkin got angry, and that’s fine. But Malkin is a 31 year-old man in a profession where people constantly try to upset him, and he knows that he gets upset often. The issue it that he chooses to act on his anger the way he does.

* he shouldn’t have spoken from the bench 

This is the one thing that comes from Malkin directly. Malkin chose to make this his justification, and it’s not a strong one.

First, Tom Wilson and several others were yelling at Malkin during the conflict. Kuznetsov waited until everything had stopped and both players were helf by refs, which is about as dead as anything can get. If you’re arguing that players on the bench shouldn’t engage with players on the ice during any kind of action, you should be going for Tom. 

Second, if you’re arguing that no one should speak around a fight as the referees are cleaning up, you have managed to miss a significant part of how and why hockey teams work.

Kuznetsov doesn’t wear an A, but he is an assistant captain. He has a clear and recognized role: settling fights. 

Ovechkin is often silent for fights, unless it’s escalated to something that needs a Statement with his weight behind it. In any other little dispute, every team in the league knows that Kuznetsov will be there, about 5-10 feet back, waiting for a moment to speak. 

He very rarely lets the other team’s player skate away from the fight without leaning in for a quiet word, and they might be laughing in irritation or amusement, but all of them respect him enough to listen to it. Whatever he says, it almost always settles them, and they don’t repeat. He manages tensions and the tone of the game, negotiating so everyone agrees what is and isn’t acceptable. 

The Penguins accept that he does that. Crosby will negotiate to Kuznetsov at moments when he and Ovechkin can’t or don’t talk directly to each other. He talked to Kuznetsov to settle little disputes throughout that game. 

(And that’s not a failure on Ovechkin or Crosby’s part: when you know that you don’t do well at speaking to each other, it’s a mature and responsible decision to delegate to someone who has that particular strength.)

The issue isn’t that Malkin didn’t like whatever Kuznetsov said to him; I don’t know what it was, and he can feel whatever he wants about what someone says to him. Moreover, ff the Pens want to say, “until you have a C on your sweater, we don’t want to hear it,” they can do that and consistently keep to it. 

Objecting to Kuznetsov performing a role that the Pens accepted him performing right up until then is disingenuous. Malkin did something that was against the agreed terms of behavior. Kuznetsov addressed the violation of terms. Malkin’s response obscured what he had done that was against the terms and discounted critique by invalidating Kuznetsov’s ability to give it. That isn’t leadership. That doesn’t lead us to reduce concussions, that doesn’t lead us to increase safety, and it doesn’t lead us to speaking to each other with respect. 

 Malkin the person can say what he wants. He can’t push people’s heads into walls in ways they haven’t consented to, though. As long as he wears an A for my team or any in the National Hockey League, he is supposed to be a leader; he’s paid to be a leader. Malkin the hockey player can’t do whatever he wants.

+ “He’s never been afraid to do that.”

Let’s circle back. 

This was from the commentators, and it struck me.

You know, I’m also not afraid to try to fight Evgeny Kuznetsov. He’s built like a whippet, for one. I could just snap his ankles. And he’d die inside before he let another skater catch him, so it’s theoretical anyway.

I’m also not afraid to stand in a hallway and yell at people. What is there to be afraid of? People might think I was behaving badly. 

When Malkin does it, people don’t think badly of him. They say he’s brave.

Inherently compared to players who consider safety and consent, who talk through disputes, or who look feminine? 

Come on.

There’s kind of an elephant in your room, Pittsburgh. (There’s one in all our rooms. Yours just has an international spotlight, and you’ve spent years rightly objecting to how people insult him.)

Fans and media could choose to not to use feminine-coded words to dismiss people. You never need to use those words; you can speak fine without ever resorting to them.

And as long as we all keep thinking of femininity as an insult against anyone, people will keep using it against your captain. As long as we all keep thinking safety concerns are a petty or a weak thing to talk about, people are going to keep being hurt.

[scifimagpie]

The Conversation about "Partisan Divisions" is All Wrong

I need to scream somewhere. Every media outlet I like, and probably some I don't - today, it was Vox, which I usually like enough - has done a "gee I don't understand why there's so much partisan division going on right now owo *shrug emoji*" type of piece. Look - we can't have a "civil conversation" when part of the platform of the party is about not accepting the human rights of the other people.

The screaming - is this real?

It feels like the world is gaslighting me, trying to remember when legislators would disavow the KKK and mean it. I know those elements were lurking. This is probably my white privilege talking, at least to some extent.

But we can never have "civil partisan conversations" or "reach across the aisle" until we, as a society, stamp out fundamental intolerance's validity as a political position.

I miss conservatism that was rational and reasonable, a time when it meant caution. Yes, the racism and prejudice were in there, lurking and growing, but there was a time when they were at least openly disavowed.

Now, in the face of a fractured center and left, trying to explain this feels like a sort of strange nostalgia for an imagined thing. Was it ever really so?

Nostalgia mode: engage

I miss conservative conversations where we could talk about how much spending and actually have reasonable discussions. But conservatism has been usurped by fascism and nationalism. I mean sure, it was always there, somewhat, but I'm pretty sure there was a time it wasn't okay.

I hope for the rise of conservatives again - but that can only happen safely if they are willing to flush bigots out of their ranks. Until that happens, we can't have conversations safely. Until we accept that some respect for people's fundamental rights must be at the core of an argument, and that the question is not always "whether or not," but sometimes "how much," politics will not be safe for those who are disenfranchised. We have spent too many years debating whether First Nations people (in Canada and America) or Black people (mostly in America) deserve upgrades and full rights that we've accepted that as normal - instead of a heinous and terrible argument in the first place.

We cannot legislate away fundamental human rights, something both Canada and America have done for decades and centuries, and consider that an acceptable casualty rate of democracy and negotiating across the aisle.

A plea to the right

I address this essay not just to people on the left, but more so, to the people who probably don't read my articles and posts - to the families and campaigners who dislike or are frustrated by us. People in the Manosphere, people in the center, family members who just don't understand why we don't like Trump - this is for you. I come not to insult you or belittle you, but to beseech you.

Conservatives who still believe that, say, trans people deserve to exist and black people shouldn't be shot - I don't mean to alarm you, but you are now basically liberals. At least compared to some of your comrades or fellow soldiers, or however you might wish to be addressed.

Please, those of you who identify in the centre or the right - I ask, nay, beg of you: flush out your ranks. I realise it can be tempting to ally with someone to get legislation pushed through, but those of us facing a true fight for our rights have no wish to harm you. We on the left, we children of abuse and of plural identities - we wish only to exist in safety and comfort. This need not threaten or remove your comfort, not on a fundamental level.

Sure, there are scary conversations that might make you upset or even angry - things we have been through ourselves, and go through still - but all of us want to be housed, alive, taken care of medically, and to have full bellies. And we actually want that for you, too.

We want everyone to be called by the gender prefixes they prefer and identify with, to marry who they love, to have families by their own choice, to be fed, and to have access to an education. We want running water and heat and air-conditioning and safe living conditions for everyone. That includes you.

Please, when it comes time to vote - ask yourself who cares about the fundamental human rights issues. And then tick off their name.

All we have left is to strip away the technicalities and subtle arguments, and beg you for our lives.

*** Michelle Browne is a sci fi/fantasy writer. She lives in Lethbridge, AB with her partner-in-crime, housemate, and their cat. Her days revolve around freelance editing, knitting, jewelry, and nightmares, as well as social justice issues. She is currently working on the next books in her series, other people's manuscripts, and drinking as much tea as humanly possible. The mailing list * Books on Amazon * Medium * Twitter * Instagram *  Facebook * Tumblr * Blog

[therealak47-blog]

Some Life Philosophy

Often I use this as an outlet to express my thoughts and feelings when I’m going through a depressed cycle so I don’t share them under my actual identity. But today (also being in a semi-manic cycle the last week, the one upside to bipolar lol) I wanted to share some positive things.

I have really began adhering to the philosophy that you can only control what you can control. When you give your best effort and a positive approach to what you can control, the things that you can’t control seem to have more favorable outcomes. A lot of things I did this week re-enforced that this is a healthy and productive approach to life. Things aren’t exactly ideal, but there are steps in place based on my actions that will lead to a better future. I’m not espousing some “law of attraction�� pseudoscience bullshit- I do think good things happen to you when you have a positive outlook. But you also have to take responsibility to act, speak and put in the hard work. Good things aren’t just going to come to you because you’re thinking good thoughts. Put in the work and control what you can control. The rest is out of your hands.

Another thing- I have a friend who seems to be internalizing some very negative left-wing perspectives and even, to my shock, mentioned how right wing I was. I don’t have a label for my political views as I base my views primarily on logic and science and neither side of the spectrum would encompass that. But as a generalization, I’m quite liberal- I am extremely thankful that I am a Canadian born citizen so, despite having some serious mental and physical health issues and coming from a working poor family, my healthcare is free and I had the opportunity to do post-secondary education I likely wouldn’t have had as an American citizen. I’m thrilled Canada is legalizing marijuana, not that we were ever really strict about it up here anyway, but as both a medical and recreational user of marijuana, it’s nice to be able to walk into a dispensary and get the right strain for my needs. I believe in affordable education, diversity and respect for others. I am very much a straight, cis hetero female (like talking 0 on the Kinsey scale, I’ve never even had a single sexual fantasy or dream about a woman and I’m 30) But I have LGBT friends, a couple who are trying to change the politics and treatment of LGBT people that I try to help with my skills of writing and rhetoric to achieve their goals. I’ll admit, I don’t fully understand transgenderism (I can’t conceive in my mind how one would feel born with the wrong biological gender) but that’s obviously my confusion because of my experience as a 100% straight cis person. I still treat transgender people with respect, use their preferred pronouns and ask appropriate questions to try to develop my understanding better. 

My friend seems to be buying into the “two sides” division I think is a bigger problem in society than some see. When you say that you wish someone would hit Jordan Peterson with a truck, you’re engaging in the same rhetoric as the “alt-right” you denounce- hypocrisy, for me, is one of the most maddening qualities I see in society today. One side criticizes the other using inflammatory, divisive rhetoric, and the other side does the same thing without seeing the hypocrisy of their behavior. I will not participate in that. I will admit, I do say some things on Trump’s Twitter- but they are written using a rhetoric very similar to what I’m using writing this, so despite some of my comments getting 100+ likes, even the few negative comments I’ve gotten are either clearly a bot account, or, when I respond, they have nothing else to say. I’ve never been called a bitch or any derogatory name and I strongly feel it’s because of the language I use. One of the few extremely right-wing friends of mine even said recently, “getting into a debate with you is like Superman trying to face kryptonite”. I don’t say anything under my public identity that I can’t stand by and explain. Even here, while I’d rather people not know about the depths of my mental health struggles or that I write some R-rated Rick Sanchez fanfiction, I can stand by that too. I’d just prefer not to have to, hence why I have this account. In these discussions with him, I’ve been just trying to shape my rhetoric as I do in all my social media accounts now and point out the hypocrisies in his speech, like the Jordan Peterson remark, in a way that doesn’t make him defensive. We’ve been friends for more than 15 years now and he is usually well-spoken aside from the emotional rhetoric politics seems to be bringing out in him, so the discussions are productive for both of us, to help each other see the other person’s point of view without going on the defensive. We live in different cities so I can’t say for sure, but I suspect either his coworkers or circle of friends is shaping his current views and I hope he can eventually see that none of us go through this journey of life alone, so rather than getting angry and insulting those who disagree with you, find a way to work with them. We achieve more together than we do divided.

Based on both how much I excelled in the graduate program I just recently completed and re-reading my own words on a variety of topics and platforms, I’m starting to see that, if my goal is to help as many people as possible, that I should take the time now and continue to work on myself and my goals, but that in the future, at least ten years from now, running for political office is a realistic goal for me. I have grown immensely as a human being between the ages of 20-30, so I know that while I’m trying to be my “best self” now, my best self is going to keep getting better and better. When I talk about my “vision”, I can actually articulate what that means instead of using catchphrases and platitudes. I’m an excellent writer and public speaker and I can connect with a variety of different people. Especially since I presume the political climate will be much different in 10+ years, public office is a realistic goal for me. For now, I have to put more work in to make that a reality for my future. 

Going through my various writings this morning, I re-read the Rick Sanchez fanfictions I write, as I mentioned under a pseudonym, and I was actually struck by how well-written they were. The commenters on AO3 seemed to agree haha, but from my point of view, I am absolutely a writer. No grammatical errors, the narrative flowed and even Rick’s dialogue sounded like it could have came from the show. It’s kind of funny that some of my quality writing that’s been read by ~3000 people already will never be known to have been written by the “real” me.

Well, I had a very positive and productive week so I am taking the thunderstorms as a sign that I can relax today and have a lazy day around the house watching baseball or doing some writing or whatever I want. I hope to keep having weeks like this in the future- I understand the reality of bipolar is that I will always “cycle” but back to the mantra of “you can only control what you can control”- I can take care of my body and mind, take my medication properly (it’s an off-label bipolar med because a lot of traditional bipolar meds have weight gain as a side effect and one I tried had me gain 30+ lbs in 3 months when I was a very skinny person before that, hence why I still have manic cycles) and control my words and message on all social media platforms. This has helped immensely in reducing the length and severity of my depressed cycles. I have come to terms with the fact that bipolar is a reality for me- and applying my life philosophy to make the best of that reality.

[kyberled]

and also techbuilt bc reasons : shield

Send “Shield” for my muse’s reaction to yours placing themselves between my muse and danger. || Accepting

Send “sword” for my muse to put themselves between your muse and danger. || Accepting

He hated politics. Always had; he supposed he got that from his master. But, this was important. Vitally so, in fact.

A Jedi’s duty was to defend those who needed them, regardless of personal comfort. And, besides, this was better than battlefields. At least the only volleys thrown here were verbal. … Mostly. He sighed, wiped a hand down his face. This was exhausting. He closed his eyes for one step, two, then opened them again and straightened his posture. This was a mission, same as any other. A Jedi’s duty was to protect. And so, protect he would. He adjusted the bundle of datapads in his arms. When he got home, if he had a chance, he’d like to stop by the archives - Perhaps Madame Jocasta could help him locate some more Sentient Rights cases he could reference. If anyone could find them - or someone who knew about them - it’d be her. He glanced over his shoulder, and returned Senator Gestahl’s friendly smile and nod before setting off. It was nice, having people in his corner. In all of them, in fact. He wove his way through the traffic in the halls. It was strange - this building was large, but it still felt so cramped in comparison to the temple. 

He was still walking, looking out a window to the city beyond, when a voice stopped him. 

“Ah,” the word was drawn out. Each syllable creaked and groaned like an ancient ship. The presence left a taste of salt in his mouth, cold and faintly tinged with green, metallic and oppressive and damp. It would have been suffocating, had it been especially strong. Torn at the edges. Old. “Just who I was hoping to see.”

“Good morning,” Braig said, turning to face the speaker. An elderly Kaminoan, stooped slightly and dressed in a finery that he hadn’t seen among their people before. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“I am Halle Burtoni,” the Kaminoan gave a small facsimile of a bow. It was about as sincere as a gundark’s grin. “The Senator of Kamino.”

Ah.

Braig returned the bow, making sure to keep his hold on his books.

“Padawan Braig of the Jedi Order.” He said, straightening. “Though it sounds like you knew that already.” 

“Everyone knows who you are.” She said, waving a hand through the air. The way she said it sounded like a threat. 

“I’m flattered.” Braig said. “You said you wanted to see me?” 

“I was just wondering,” she began, shuffling closer, “Why you want to run my people out of business.” Braig frowned. He had a feeling this would happen. He’d just hoped it would have happened before he’d spent all day working.

“That’s not why I’m doing this.” Braig straightened his shoulders a bit more, drawing them back. “But, if you must know: The sale of sentient life is a crime. It’s slavery. A Jedi’s duty is to stand against injustice, and that is what I am doing. Your people are brilliant geneticists, medical experts, and scientists all around; I’m sure you’ll make do.” He hated that this was happening in the middle of a hallway. Clearly, that had been intentional; Why? Chances are, she either wanted him to back down or slip up in view of the general assembly. He knew he’d been gaining some traction - and he had to give credit where credit was due, Uncle Aruk’s bribery probably had a hand in that. There was no way some of the people claiming loyalty to the movement gave a preacher’s cuss about the men.

“My people have made leaps and bounds in our research thanks to the clone initiative. Would you have us throw all of our progress away?” She was closer still. Braig decided to hold his ground. 

“Of course not,” he tightened his grip on his datapads. “But I’m sure you can find much more ethical ways to advance your studies, to the benefit of all. You are, as I said, quite intelligent.” He wished he could get away with an insult. He was very quickly deciding he did not like Senator Burtoni. This could cause issues. “The men are people. Not lab rats.” His knuckles whitened around the corners of his datapads. Without making it too obvious, he drew a steadying breath through his nose. … It was hard to disguise it though, with how close she was leaning to him. He probably could have spit in her face without moving, given the lack of distance.

(He had to fight against the urge to do so. Proper form and logical debate would win, here; acting out and disgracing the name of the Jedi would accomplish nothing.)

(She still sickened him, though. He thought he might borrow Obi-Wan’s mouthwash when he got home, before visiting the archives.)

“You are awfully young to engage in politics.” Senator Burtoni said, narrowing her eyes. “Aren’t you afraid you speak of things you know nothing about?” Braig snorted softly.

“When you scare me, Senator, I assure you, you’ll be the first to know.” 

The Senator’s signature flared. Dark and roiling, a sea ready to pull ships under and drown the crew entire. She leaned in closer still and opened her mouth to speak when a voice cut in. 

“Hey, Braig!” 

He looked over his shoulder and felt relief melt into his shoulders. He hadn’t been so happy to see a person in quite some time. Burtoni had looked up as well. Her face twisted into a sneer.

“Ah, good afternoon, Senator.” Hora said, placing her hand on Braig’s shoulder as she moved between the two (Forcing Burtoni to straighten, both to make room and look her in the eye). “Hope I’m not interrupting anything.” 

“Senator Bex.” The contempt in Burtoni’s voice was mirrored by a sluggish, rotten wave through the Force. Braig grimaced. “Of course not. I was simply- Ensuring our young friend here–”

“I can take over on that front.” Hora said, turning around and nodding for Braig to follow. 

“I don’t like her.” Braig said as soon as they had rounded the corner. 

“Join the club, we’ve got monogrammed hand towels.” Hora rolled her eyes. “She wasn’t giving you trouble, was she?”

“No.” Braig shook his head, then smiled up at his friend. “Nothing that the two of us can’t handle.”

[whitewolfofwinterfell]

@jonxsansafanfiction All Hallow’s Week - day 1: autumn 

Sansa strides down the cobbled streets, her brown thigh high boots crunching on the crisp leaves scattered across the ground,  her face nestled into the knitted burgundy scarf around her neck. 

No place can compare to Stratford-upon-Avon during autumn. The picturesque villages, bouts of countryside bursting with shades of reds, yellows, browns and oranges and babbling brooks and flowing rivers meandering through, quaint hang-outs from book shops to museums, coffee shops to pubs. 

As a second year student at London College of Fashion, Sansa has adjusted to the hustle and bustle of city life and come to appreciate the limitless shops where she can quite literally shop ‘til she drops, along with the constant goings on that make it impossible to ever be bored. 

But nothing can quite compare to her hometown and she lives for the times she is able to visit. The peace, tranquility and beauty here is second to none and Sansa feels immediately more at ease just for being back.  Entering her favourite coffee shop, she heads straight for the counter and greets the barista with a friendly smile. 

”Hi. What can I get you?” she asks. 

“Could I get a spiced pumpkin latte with cinnamon and caramel sauce.” Sansa recites her order, a deeper unfamiliar voice echoing her words. 

She glances to her left to find the source of the voice. It’s a young man, leaning over the counter, a newspaper opened underneath his face and he’s looking up at her with dark brown eyes, his mouth turned up into a small smile. 

Sansa smiles at him, her unblinking gaze lingering on him for longer than they should until she eventually finds her tongue. “Um, I’m sorry. You go. You were here first,” she offers politely. 

“No, need to apologise,” he says with a suave smile before turning to the barista and saying, “So that’ll be two spice pumpkin latte’s with cinnamon and caramel sauce, please.” 

With his eyes on her, Sansa bows her head slightly and blushes. “Thank you.” 

“My pleasure.” 

The barista stands behind the counter, a knowing smile upon her face. She’s nothing but a blur to them now and neither Sansa nor the handsome stranger notice her get to work making the drinks. 

“Seems you’ve got good taste,” he says. 

“You too,” Sansa replies in a sultry voice, her body turning towards him.

Though they’re strangers, there’s an immediate familiarity and ease in their flirtations. They hold one another’s gaze with confidence and continue to smile at each other.

“That’ll be £7.20, please,” the barista announces. 

He reaches into the back pocket of his jeans whilst Sansa rifles through her bag for her purse and they both hand the barista a ten pound note at the same time. 

Sansa side eyes him and they both chuckle. 

“This is on me,” he says. 

Though Sansa’s pride demands she pay, she doesn’t wish to engage in the ever controversial debate of whether it is gentlemanly to pay for a woman’s drink or damn right insulting. In this instance, Sansa is inclined to go with the former and accepts his offer with a gracious nod and words of thanks. 

Sansa takes the mug of coffee into her hands and lingers. She wants to invite him to sit with her but suddenly becomes bashful. Fortunately, he has the confidence to do what she doesn’t and says, “Would you like to grab a table?” 

Sansa nods. “I’d like that.” 

“Great.” he beams at her, folding up his newspaper and grabbing his coffee. 

They sit at the table nearest the window and in the daylight, Sansa notices how truly handsome he is. He’s chiseled and rugged, with thick black stubble and curly black hair. His smile is charming and though it’s small and understated, it lights up his entire face. 

Sansa has dabbled in the dating world in her years as a teenager but has never experienced anything quite like this. It’s exciting and her heart is fluttering in her chest. 

“I haven’t seen you around here before,” Sansa starts. She’s lived in Stratford-upon-Avon her entire life and generally knows the faces of the residents. “Are you a tourist?” 

“No. I was born here, but have been away a lot over the last 7 years. I’m a solider. Left school, went to college to study business, realised it wasn’t for me, so joined at 18. Haven’t looked back since.” 

“Oh.” Sansa is taken by surprise. 

“What? Didn’t take me for a solider?” 

"No, no, it’s not that. I mean, I guess I just pictured you to be the drummer in some indie rock band. What with the boots, tight jeans, suede jumper, long hair and beard.” 

He chuckles, then leans forward and says, “Who says I’m not?” 

Sansa raises her eyebrows at him. “Seriously? You’re a solider that’s also a drummer in a band?” 

“What’s wrong with that?” he teases. 

“Nothing, nothing at all,” she smiles and he beams at her. 

“How about you? What do you do?” 

“I’m a student at LCF.” 

He frowns, a puzzled look on his face. “LCF?” 

“London College of Fashion.” 

His eyes widen, “Oh, so you’re a fashion student. That explains it.” 

“Explains what?” 

“You’re impeccable taste in fashion.” 

There’s a certain tone to his voice that makes Sansa momentarily question whether or not he’s being sarcastic, but when she realises he’s being serious she blushes. 

“Thanks. Well, yours isn’t so bad either.” 

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” 

“You should,” Sansa replies, fluttering her eyelashes at him. 

“I particularly like the scarf.” 

“Made it myself,” Sansa says, stroking the knitted scarf still around her neck. 

“Brings out the beautiful blue of your eyes.” 

Sansa is completely floored by his forward compliment and doesn’t quite know what to say. 

For a while they remain smiling at each other and Sansa cannot recall ever feeling this way upon first meeting someone. On first appearances he looks like any other ordinary person, yet something about him is so different.

She’s watched countless movies where encounters like this happen - two mysterious strangers meeting by a twist of fate and being taken with each other - but she always accepted them as being cheesy fantasies reserved for chick flicks. Yet she feels like she’s living one of those fantasies right now. 

Sansa isn’t sure how much time passes by, but it’s enough that when she takes a sip of her coffee it’s stone cold. She and the handsome stranger have scarcely paused for breath, discussing his experiences in the army, Sansa’s aspirations for the future, music and even literature. Turns out they have a lot more in common than just their taste in coffee. 

“Are you joking? Romeo and Juliet is so much better than The Tempest. It’s iconic,” Sansa says. 

“All that romance and death is so predictable. The Tempest is witty and fun.”

Sansa shakes her head. “I guess there’s one thing we do disagree on then.” 

“Looks like it.” 

They both laugh and they’re interrupted by the barista. 

“Excuse me, we’re actually closing up now. We close earlier on Sundays.” 

Sansa looks down to her watch in surprise and sees that it’s 2:55. 

“Wow, is that really the time?” he exclaims as surprised as Sansa. 

Sansa feels her heart sink and is immediately deflated. She isn’t ready to leave him yet. There’s still so much to talk about. 

They both stand up, pull their coats on and head for the door. When they get outside, Sansa notes how much cooler it is, the wind having picked up in speed and a hoard of grey clouds lingering above their heads. She pulls her coat tighter about herself and shivers. 

“So, thank you for the drink,” Sansa starts, breaking the silence. 

“It was my pleasure.” 

Still charming. 

Sansa tells herself that she’s going to invite him somewhere else but every time she tries to open her mouth to say the words she falters. Why is she so nervous? He clearly likes her too. 

“I’m Jon by the way.” 

“Oh, of course,” Sansa says putting her hand to her head and chuckling lightly. It’s only now she realises they were so caught up in conversation they hadn’t even formally introduced themselves. 

“I’m Sansa.” 

“Sansa.” 

She never knew hearing her name could be so beautiful. His voice and the way he moves his mouth around it makes it sound like a song. 

“Would you like to go for a walk?” Sansa practically stumbles over her words, desperate to get them out before she chickens out. For a few moments she keeps her eyes on the ground, afraid to see his reaction but when she looks up at him and sees the ecstatic grin on his face, all of her nerves fade away. They’re replaced with a fuzzy feeling that radiates out from the center of her chest and butterflies that flutter in her stomach. 

“I would love that, Sansa.” 

She smiles a small smile and ignores the urge to tap dance in the street in celebration. 

The two of them fall into step beside each other and proceed down the street, their conversation picking up again. They walk close enough that their hands are brushing against each other and in that instant, the rest of the world fades away leaving just them. 

As they giggle unreservedly and steal longing gazes at one another, they’re completely unaware that today will be the day they recall to their children and grandchildren in decades to come as being the autumn day they were brought together by spiced pumpkin latte’s and fell in love.