#Viral Protection

[monteewellnez]

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[rafessecret]

⋆˚࿔ bambi¡ reader && protective¡rafe cameron

HOW THEY MET . . .

You were just being girly. pink razors, strawberry lip balm, a new bottle of conditioner with glittery packaging. all stacked in a wobbly little tower in your arms as you stood in line at the base-town drugstore. Everything about you was sweet—from the gloss on your lips to the bend in your wrist as you clutched your basket, overloaded with softness. He stood behind you in line. quiet. big.

boots heavy. biceps flexed under a black t-shirt. camo jacket tied around his waist. You felt his presence before you saw him – a kind of pressure in the air. like thunder coming. like the sound of a cocked gun in the distance. dog tags. a ski mask pulled halfway up, sitting like a habit. He looked tired. sun-drained and sharp. gorgeous in a way that made your mouth go dry. the kind of pretty that wasn’t polished, just brutal. a jaw that could crack concrete. lashes thick. eyes unreadable.

You were flipping through a gossip magazine while waiting in line, so deep in your head you didn’t register the weight of him behind you. Until the cashier beeped the last item, and you reached for your purse only to hear the man behind you rumble, ❝Put hers on mine.❞ Your head snapped up. He didn’t look at you. Not at first.

Big hands. A black shirt stretched across wide shoulders. Camouflage pants that didn’t look performative but lived-in. Boots that had been through something. Dog tags clinked when he shifted. One hand on his hip, the other resting loose at his side like a weapon holstered, like his fingers could flex into a kill. He looked like he hadn’t spoken to a girl in weeks. Months, maybe. His jaw was shadowed in stubble, skin tanned like desert sun had kissed it too long. A faint scar over one brow. And his eyes—sharp, pale, almost startling in contrast to how warm the rest of him looked. They were locked on you now. Studying. Stern. His voice was gravel. worn down at the edges. But when your eyes met, something in his softened. barely. just enough to make your breath hitch. a flicker of amusement behind all that war-thick exhaustion. You stood frozen. razors, lip balm. his presence like gravity.

You blinked. ❝Um. You don’t have to—❞ ❝Didn’t ask if I had to.❞ He paid cash. Tossed a few crumpled bills on the counter. You stood there holding your little bag, warm with candy and gloss, and stared like you couldn’t place this moment in reality. His voice was gravel. worn down at the edges. But when your eyes met, something in his softened. barely. just enough to make your breath hitch. a flicker of amusement behind all that war-thick exhaustion. You stood frozen. razors, lip balm. his presence like gravity.

❝Your basket looked important.❞ You blinked again. Looked down at your haul. Pink. Pink. Pink. Something glittery. ❝It’s literally lip balm and razors,❞ you giggled, cheeks warm. ❝Yeah. Looked important." ❝Th-thank you,❞ you said, lips parting. He didn’t leave after that. Carried your little red basket like it was heavy artillery. Walked beside you through the parking lot, long strides slowed to match yours. You tried to fill the silence, your voice fluttery, a little embarrassed.

❝You don’t have to carry it, really.❞ ❝Mm.❞ He didn’t put it down. Just unlocked your car for you like he’d done it a hundred times. Stowed your bag gently in the passenger seat. He stepped back, then tugged something from his back pocket. It was a folded scrap of matte paper. Dark ink. Rough corners. He didn’t ask for your number. Instead, he tucked it into the waistband of your jeans, right at the dip of your hip. His fingers barely brushed skin. But it sizzled anyway.

❝If you ever want to write to me.❞ You stared up at him. ❝You’re—❞ ❝On leave. Not for long. But I write back fast.❞ He said it like a promise. Not desperate. Not cocky. Just sure. And then he walked off, all broad shoulders and boot-heavy steps. Disappeared like he was made of smoke. You got into your car dazed, seatbelt half-done, heart clattering. When you unfolded the paper, it was an address. APO. A real one. With a line scratched underneath: ❝If you’re as sweet on paper as you are in person, I’ll read every word twice.❞

He just knew he’d found something worth coming home for.

You wrote to him that night.

── ⋆ 𝐲𝐚𝐩 : heyy!! idk if this is any good tbh, i’ve changed it a million times and it’s kinda messy but maybe they’re still kinda cute?

── ⋆ 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒔 : @scne-vampire @browniepop62 @urcoolgf @folksriddle

©RAFESSECRET ⋆˚࿔ est. 2025

[cloudyluun]

Private Show

Summary: Harry surprises you with VIP tickets to Sabrina Carpenter’s concert, making sure you have the time of your life, dancing, singing, and twirling you around like the perfect concert boyfriend. But when a fan starts filming, he blocks you from view, sending the broodiest glare at the camera to protect your moment together.

A/N: So, you know that viral video of Harry mean-mugging the camera at Sabrina Carpenter’s concert? Yeah. My brain immediately went “what if he was just protecting his girl?” And then this happened. Enjoy dancing, twirling, and protective boyfriend Harry in his full glory. 💖

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: 

Mild crowd anxiety (Harry blocks you from attention)

Fans screaming his name

Protective, broody Harry

Harry twirling you like a rom-com protagonist

Sabrina Carpenter slaying as usual

Pure concert fluff with the tiniest bit of angst

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

The night starts with screaming.

Not Harry’s, obviously—yours.

Because your boyfriend, the actual love of your life, just casually pulled two VIP passes out of his pocket like it’s no big deal.

“You’re joking.” Your eyes are so wide they might actually fall out of your skull.

Harry just smirks, swinging the lanyards in front of your face. “Do I look like I’m joking, love?”

“HARRY.” You grab his wrist, shaking him violently. “YOU GOT ME SABRINA CARPENTER TICKETS?!”

“Thought I’d surprise you,” he says, looking all smug and pleased with himself.

You launch yourself at him.

“I love you. I love you so much.” You press at least twenty rapid-fire kisses to his face, making him laugh as he tries (and fails) to dodge you.

“Alright, alright,” he chuckles, wrapping his arms around you. “You love me enough to forgive the fact that I’ll be working with her soon?”

Your brain short-circuits.

“You’re what?!”

He shrugs like it’s nothing. “We’ve got something in the works. Thought I’d get ahead of it and make sure my girl didn’t, y’know, leave me for her when it drops.”

Your scream could shatter glass.

And that’s how you end up in a private VIP booth, tucked away from the main crowd, watching Sabrina Carpenter take the stage with your ridiculously perfect boyfriend beside you.

Harry made sure you had the best view—not too close to the screaming fans who’d recognize him in seconds, but not too far that you couldn’t soak in every second of the performance.

From the very first note, you’re in heaven.

Harry is watching you more than the stage, his lips twitching in amusement as you scream along to every word, jump up and down, and nearly burst into flames from sheer excitement.

“I take it you’re enjoying yourself?” he teases, nudging your side.

“Shut up, I’m having a religious experience,” you say, barely able to breathe as you clutch his arm.

And then—because he’s the best boyfriend in existence—Harry joins in.

At first, he’s just swaying to the beat, his fingers absentmindedly tracing circles on your hip. But then Vicious starts playing, and suddenly, he’s fully dancing with you.

Spinning you around. Dipping you dramatically. Letting you sing the lyrics directly into his face.

At one point, he twirls you and pulls you back against his chest, grinning against your ear. “Knew I made the right choice bringing you here.”

Your heart melts.

For once, no one is bothering him. No one is shoving a phone in his face, no one is screaming his name. It’s just you and him and the music.

Everything is perfect.

Until he notices the camera.

You don’t see it at first—too busy losing your mind over Sabrina hitting a ridiculous note—but you feel when Harry’s body tenses. His arm tightens around your waist, his stance shifts, and suddenly, he’s blocking you from view.

“Harry?” you mumble, looking up at him.

His jaw is tight, his eyes locked onto something in the crowd. You follow his gaze and—there.

A fan, holding their phone way too high, the camera clearly zoomed in on your booth.

And worse?

Other fans have noticed him.

You hear it—the whispers, the murmurs, the first few shouts of his name.

You wilt.

You love Harry. You love being with him. But sometimes, the attention is suffocating.

Harry knows this.

Which is why, instead of acknowledging the cameras, he does something so very Harry.

He glares.

Not just any glare—the glare. The one that shuts down the paparazzi. The one that makes fans go feral on Twitter.

The one that dares someone to keep filming.

His body shifts slightly, fully shielding you from view. His arm locks around you like a protective cage, his eyes locked onto the camera like a silent warning.

You bite your lip. “You don’t have to—”

“Yes, I do,” he murmurs.

And just like that, the phone lowers.

Harry doesn’t relax until the attention moves on, the crowd shifting back to the stage. Then—only then—does he turn back to you.

“You okay, love?” he murmurs, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

You nod, exhaling a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “I just… I hate when they do that. This is supposed to be our moment.”

Harry hums, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your temple. “I know. That’s why I’m here.”

Your heart clenches.

And suddenly, nothing else matters.

The music swells, Sabrina launches into Nonsense, and Harry—your ridiculous, perfect, protective boyfriend—grins at you.

Then, without warning, he grabs your hands and starts twirling you again.

“Harry—”

“C’mon, love,” he teases, pulling you flush against him. “We’ve got a show to enjoy.”

And so you do.

Maybe the world will analyze the videos of Harry Styles looking all broody at a Sabrina Carpenter concert. Maybe fans will freak out over his intense glare.

But they won’t know the real reason behind it.

They won’t know he did it for you.

And that’s all that matters.

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Thank you so much for reading! I appreciate any support so remember to comment, reblog, & like ❤️‍🔥

taglist: @oscahpastry @mema10 @angelbabyyy99 @iloveharrystyles04 @cinemharry @drwho06 @donutsandpalmtrees @panini @mads3502 @imgonnadreamaboutthewayyoutaaaa @one-sweet-gubler @rizosrizos26 @ciriceimpera @everyscarisahealingplace @hello-heyhi @sexymfharriet @lizsogolden @hannah9921 @chicabonitasblog @huhidontknowstuff @berrywoods1245 @jennovaaa @angeldavis777 @prettygurl-2009 @almostcontentcreator @run-for-the-hills @maudie-duan @dipmeinhoneyh @harrrrystylesslut @georgiarose94 @stylestarkey @watarmelon212 @hopefullimaginer123, @fangirl509east @bethiegurl19 @adoredeanna @secretisme4 @harry2121 @hopefullimaginer123 @fangirl509east @uncassettodiricordi @2601-london @zbaby

[wiisagi-maiingan]

When watching videos online, always ask yourself:

Why was this being filmed?

Who is the intended audience?

What feelings is it trying to invoke in you? (Jealousy, outrage, insecurity, etc.)

Be critical and remember that a lot of people making videos online are trying to monetize them, either by becoming influencers or going viral. Many of those videos are staged (including a lot of shocking ones, like videos of people saving animals; again, ask yourself why a camera was running in the first place) and a lot of those staged videos are also undisclosed ads.

[mattdillonbae]

𝐃𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐍.-

˚∘𖤐 𝐀𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐃𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐬.

𝐃𝐚𝐥’𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭��𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐣𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐧𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐮𝐲. 𝐇𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐲.

𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐃𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥, 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐟 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥, 𝐡𝐢𝐬.

-------- 𖤐

[alarwynnwhispers]

🧡 ᴜɴᴘʟᴀɴɴᴇᴅ — ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 26: ʜᴇᴀᴅʟɪɴᴇꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛʙᴇᴀᴛꜱ 🧡

ꜰ1 x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ʟᴀɴᴅᴏ ɴᴏʀʀɪꜱ ᴀᴜ | ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ + ᴅʀᴀᴍᴀ

⚠️ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ:

ʜᴇᴀᴠʏ ᴍᴇᴅɪᴀ ᴀᴛᴛᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ / ᴘᴜʙʟɪᴄ ꜱᴄʀᴜᴛɪɴʏ

ᴘʀᴇɢɴᴀɴᴄʏ ɪɴ ꜱᴇᴄᴏɴᴅ ᴛʀɪᴍᴇꜱᴛᴇʀ (ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛᴡɪɴꜱ)

ɪɴᴛᴇʀɴᴇᴛ/ꜱᴏᴄɪᴀʟ ᴍᴇᴅɪᴀ ʀᴇᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴꜱ (ᴠɪʀᴀʟ ᴠɪᴅᴇᴏꜱ, ᴘᴀᴘᴀʀᴀᴢᴢɪ, ʀᴇᴅᴅɪᴛ/ᴛɪᴋᴛᴏᴋ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛᴀʀʏ)

ɪᴍᴘʟɪᴇᴅ ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ꜱᴛʀᴇꜱꜱ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ꜰᴀᴍᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴏɴʟɪɴᴇ ᴠɪꜱɪʙɪʟɪᴛʏ

ꜱᴏꜰᴛ ᴅɪꜱᴄᴜꜱꜱɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴘʀɪᴠᴀᴄʏ, ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴘᴜʙʟɪᴄ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴘᴀʀᴛɴᴇʀ ꜱᴜᴘᴘᴏʀᴛ

ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴘʀᴇɢɴᴀɴᴄʏ-ʀᴇʟᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴘʜʏꜱɪᴄᴀʟ ᴅɪꜱᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ (ꜰᴇᴇᴛ, ᴄʀᴀᴠɪɴɢꜱ)

ᴀꜰꜰɪʀᴍɪɴɢ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱʜɪᴘ ᴅʏɴᴀᴍɪᴄ (ᴍᴜᴛᴜᴀʟ ʀᴇᴀꜱꜱᴜʀᴀɴᴄᴇ, ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ɪɴᴛɪᴍᴀᴄʏ)

ꜱᴜʙᴛʟᴇ ʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴀʟ-ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ᴍᴇᴅɪᴀ ɪɴᴛʀᴜꜱɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘᴀᴘᴀʀᴀᴢᴢɪ ʙᴇʜᴀᴠɪᴏʀ

The morning after Silverstone was anything but quiet.

Even before the light had fully crept in through the curtains of their hotel suite, the internet had already exploded. Lando’s P1 win? Front page. His celebration with the team? Viral. But none of it compared to the moment that truly set fire to every social feed, fan thread, and F1 group chat.

Her.

(Y/n), walking beside him in a tailored ivory midi dress that hugged her second-trimester silhouette, a soft papaya satin belt wrapped just above her bump. The muted slate blue coat she wore fluttered lightly behind her in the paddock breeze, and her nude block heels clicked with a quiet confidence that somehow felt regal, deliberate, undeniably her. And yet, in every shot, it was the way Lando looked at her that turned whispers into headlines.

Now, with her phone buzzing nonstop, she sat on the edge of the bed, scrolling through the chaos.

Reddit had a twenty-thread deep theory compilation. TikTok’s algorithm had latched onto her silhouette like wildfire, clips of her beside Zak Brown, walking into the McLaren motorhome, even one where she gently rested her hands on her bump while talking to Lando’s young niece. Someone had even slowed down the podium moment, catching the subtle glance Lando gave in her direction before spraying the champagne.

By the time she reached for her tea, she’d already lost count of the new tags.

Lando stepped out of the shower, towel over his shoulder, tousling his hair. He saw the look on her face immediately.

“You’ve been doom-scrolling for twenty minutes,” he said.

“I’m not even looking at the worst ones,” she replied, holding up the screen. “Someone just posted a side-by-side comparing me to a ‘princess from a racing kingdom.’ I don’t even know if that’s supposed to be flattering or insane.”

He laughed and sat beside her, leaning to look over her shoulder. “You were glowing yesterday. That dress made everyone forget what sport they were watching.”

“I was pregnant,” she deadpanned. “Not debuting at the Met Gala.”

“And yet you did both,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

She leaned into his touch for a second. “Do you regret it?”

“What, you coming? Hell no.”

“No, I mean… all of this. Me. The twins. Going public.”

He didn’t answer right away.

Instead, he turned to her, voice low but firm. “Do I look like a man with regrets?”

She blinked.

“I won,” he said. “On the track, yeah, but off it too. I have you. And them. And now, the world knows. It’s not a secret anymore.”

(Y/n) exhaled, the tension she hadn’t realized she was carrying finally starting to release.

Lando reached for her hand and kissed her knuckles gently. “We’ll lay low for a bit. Austria’s next, but we don’t have to make it a whole thing again. If you want to stay here—”

“I want to go,” she interrupted softly. “I’m not hiding. Not anymore.”

His smile grew. “Then I’ll make sure the motorhome has whatever tea and fruit you’re craving by the hour.”

“And a bench. For my feet,” she added dryly.

“Obviously,” he smirked.

Outside, photographers were already camped near the carpark, long lenses trained on the upper windows. Somewhere down the hall, she heard a reporter’s voice echo. But inside their suite, there was a strange kind of peace, a shared decision made quietly between them.

(Y/n) reached for her coat, smoothing down the sleeve. “Well,” she said, glancing down at her bump. “Looks like they know about you two now.”

Lando placed his palm gently on the swell of her belly and kissed her shoulder. “Let them look.” To be continued... 🧡

🧡 ᴜɴᴘʟᴀɴɴᴇᴅ — ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 27: ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀᴅᴅᴏᴄᴋ ᴡʜɪꜱᴘᴇʀ 🧡

📝 Note from the Author: Fifth post of the day 😭 I’m clearly unwell (or deeply devoted, maybe both). Just needed this soft, grounding moment after the whirlwind of Silverstone. Lando saying “Do I look like a man with regrets?” lives rent-free in my head now.

Short and sweet, let them look. 👀 See you all soon.

With love, me 🧡

[thepersonalwords]

Ultimately virility is all about helping others express their reluctantly shared feelings while doing so from a safe distance.

Ken Poirot, Go Viral!: The Social Media Secret to Get Your Name Posted and Shared All Over the World!

[ahmedtalia]

Be the helping hand to save my little daughter

My little angel has not known peace or happiness for a long time... The occupation destroyed our home, and now we live in a ruined place. We flee every day in search of safety, running for our lives... She is enduring extremely harsh conditions. She has lost her sense of safety, comfort, and childhood... She suffers from constant fear, with death surrounding her everywhere. Please, she needs a calm and safe life. Save her from destruction and be her support.

Please donate and help spread the word about the campaign🍉🙏⬇️

@el-shab-hussein @rinnie @sweetoothgirl @palestine @nabulsi @northgazaupdates2 @sar-soor @

[mymarifae]

really dreading mizu5 tbh. yes the writing around mizuki has generally been really well done and it feels thoughtful and intentional, but it'd be a very easy and very instantaneous thing. to just throw four years worth of build-up in the fucking garbage. or maybe nothing of substance will get confirmed at all because they decided they like making money. maybe it'll just be bad and this is all a waste of time and no one's going to be happy. maybe i should obtain a grenade launcher and play with it

[lifefactz]

Respect your energy!

[skyrimsimmer]

“By Thurisaz, I break all chains. By Laguz, I let my pain flow away. By Dagaz, I am reborn anew. By Raidho, I walk the path of truth. By Jera, I claim my earned reward. By Ansuz, I speak, I see, I become.” “I release all that holds me back— From this moment on, I lead my spirit forward, unbound, unseen, yet unstoppable. So it is. So it shall be.” ~ K.D. The Seer Warrior

[bluestockingbaby]

You could make a really good adaptation of Moll Flanders as one of those 2010s classics YouTube vlog adaptations (Carmilla, Nothing Much To Do) with Moll as everyone’s favorite controversial vlogger/relationship advice guru with wild interpersonal drama.

[danvssomethingorother]

The C Virus is viral and I just think they missed an opportunity to infect Leon and Helena. Put a time limit on them finding Carla / Simmons

Also that like instantly makes them carries whether they are infected or not since they were in the ground zero where the virus was set off in Tall Oaks. Another missed opportunity honestly to have Leon and Helena having to quarantine the entire town.

Tall Oaks is just way more interesting to me then the other plot points in their story and if the game is remade, I think it would be cool for all campaigns to lead to Tall Oaks because they need to keep this all from spreading and Leon trying desperately to keep the government from nuking an entire city when it won’t even help anything because the c virus is viral.

[violaroseshade]

Guidance from : @violaroseshade

[zaachknight]

been thinking about angel having a kid sm recently

if angel had a kid he would be the best dad ever. like seriously can you even imagine the chaotic shit he would do. this is the kind of guy that would go on little kid rides and dodgems with his five year old. this man would go in the kiddie pools with his kid just to make sure they're having fun and are safe.

btw, I can fully see him having a daughter and she would be THEEE light of his life. forget saturday, she's the only one he cares about. he would fully get into fights with boys who made fun of her or anything like that.

[transhawks]

a small detail i noticed in the new chapter is that hawks is now equipped with a sword….so his back doesn’t feel bare and he still feels protected

its cooler than the gun his predecessor's predecessor had. Not sure if as effective but at least we know Keigo can use that sword.