#however when that will be... i cannot say

[mayahours]

play fair

You melt into the night with Caleb and Zayne, where touches speak louder than words, and time slips away in the heat of a moment well spent.

18+ mdni! threesome. zayne and caleb make out with you at the same time, challengers style. fingering. blowjob. ass slapping. finger sucking. consent check in. reader is a creamer. bisexual calezayne.

give it a listen while reading!

“We always shared everything when we were kids,” Caleb murmurs, his arms braced against the doorframe, caging you between him and your other childhood friend. His voice is low, indulgent, laced with memory and a slow-burning heat. “Right, Zayne?”

The one with glasses gives a languid nod, a wry smile curving his lips. “Sure… though I’d say you always took the bigger share.”

Caleb’s chuckle is quiet, husky—a sound that slides beneath your skin, however, his eyes hold something darker now, something undone by time. Something starved. Something waiting.

“I was always a little selfish,” he admits, voice slipping into a low mumble as his gaze drifts to you. His eyes; dark brown, cold and consuming, pinning you in place. His breath is slow, deliberate, brushing the air between you like a whisper.

Zayne removes his glasses with quiet precision, slipping them into the pocket of his coat. His free hand lifts with unnerving gentleness, fingers grazing through your hair, tracing it like a line of poetry he’s read too many times.

Your breath catches. A flutter stirs deep in your belly, rising like smoke toward your chest, your skin tingling under the weight of their nearness. Zayne’s hand slides to the small of your back, palm warm, claiming.

“Don’t scare her now,” he murmurs, a grin ghosting his lips as he pulls you to him, so suddenly your palm lands against his chest. The thrum of his heartbeat pulses beneath your touch. “Play fair, Caleb.”

His tone is light, teasing, but his expression remains unreadable, a mask of intrigue and desire. He could be thinking anything.

Caleb steps closer, his hand slipping around your waist, pulling your hips close to the bulging in his trousers. His breath warms the curve of your neck.

“No, no—she’s staying.” Just his voice unravels you, sending a tremble through your chest, your heartbeat loud in your ears as your breaths come deep and slow.

“Ya not going anywhere, are ‘ya?” his words hum against your skin, and the sound settles into your bones. You lean into Zayne’s chest, eyes drifting back to Caleb, caught between them.

You take a breath, trying to process the moment. You’re sandwiched between your two childhood best friends. It’s way past midnight, and somehow, somewhere along the way while the three of you were separated, they’ve both become devastatingly hot.

You’re caught in a trance, lips parted, heart stumbling over its own symphony.

“No.”

That one word hangs heavy in the air, but not in resistance. Their expressions shift, darkening with desire, eyes burning with unspoken sustenance for the girl caught between them.

Caleb moves first. His slender fingers find your chin, tilting your face toward his, the world narrowing to the breath between your lips.

Zayne doesn’t move. He watches; his gaze heavy, possessive, patient.

Caleb's tongue, wet and desperate, slides between your lips. You await his entrance, slick muscles tango in mouths. His hand falls to the warm flush between your lower body, fingers hooking under your clothed cunt.

You push your ass against his body, your hips in a rhythm your lips cannot sing. Denim on fabric in secret harmony. Caleb's breath trembled into a moan into you, caught in consumption.

Zayne couldn’t bear to wait any longer, like a predator circling its prey, famine in his breath. The sight of you under Caleb's control ignited a fire within him, something that rushed through his veins and burned with desire. His fingers tangle in your hair, firm yet reverent, guiding you closer. Tilting his head, he brushes his lips against the edge of your jaw, each kiss deliberate, a promise drawn in heat.

Zayne’s lips; sweet with intention, but laced with dominance brush against yours, and a shiver rips down your spine. His hand finds your face, strong and unyielding, fingers cradling your jaw with a possessive grace.

In a single, silent claim, he tears you from Caleb’s orbit without so much as a glance back, like the decision was already made, and you were already his.

Then he kisses you. Not gently, not hesitantly; but with eagerness. Your taste drags a low, feral sound from his chest, a growl that rumbles against your lips as he deepens the kiss.

He’s not just kissing you, he’s consuming you, breathing you in like you're the only air he's ever needed.

Caleb’s eyes, glassy, low, dream-dazed, fixate on the sight of you tangled in Zayne’s grasp. He doesn’t blink, doesn’t move an inch, just watches as Zayne devours your mouth like he owns it, like he’s branding you in real time.

Without tearing his gaze away, Caleb’s foot reaches back, kicking the door shut with a quiet thud. The click of the lock follows, deliberate and final. His breathing deepens, rough at the edges, chest rising with each inhale as if the sight of you being taken brings something molten beneath his skin.

Caleb finds himself at the crook of your neck, teeth sinking into skin, making you feel intense rapture in both of their embrace. Your moans bubble into Zayne's mouth, and he groans in return.

"Good girl," Caleb breathes, his lips brushing your earlobe, warm breath spilling over your flesh. Heat blooms across your cheeks, glowing amber-bright, and your knees soften beneath the weight of his voice alone.

Zayne’s tongue, unapologetically, emitting spit into your mouth, saliva thick in viscosity. You find yourself crumpling the wool material of his coat inside your fists. Zayne guides you to the living room without once breaking the kiss, your lips far too intoxicating to part from.

Every step is laced with urgency, with need. Behind you, Caleb leans against the wall, watching in silence, his eyes like smoldering embers. His grin has turned wicked; something overly primal.

For a moment, Zayne pulls back just enough to look at you—really look at you. A delicate strand of saliva still connects your parted lips, glistening in the moonlight that spills softly through the windows. It catches in his eyes, just enough to reveal the faintest shade of green, and the shadows beneath them, faint bruises of exhaustion that only make him look more devastatingly handsome. Too many late nights at the hospital, no doubt.

Footsteps echo down the hallway; measured, deliberate. Caleb enters, silent and sure, moving behind you to press slow kisses to the curve of your shoulder. His fingers find your sleeve, coaxing it down your arm with practiced care.

“Is this okay?” Zayne asks, his gaze locked on yours, voice low, yet reassuring as you let yourself melt back into Caleb’s waiting chest. He catches you easily, one arm around your waist, the other hand threading into your hair, breathing you in like a drug.

“Need you both…” you murmur, just a breath, barely audible, but it’s enough.

More than enough. They hear it like a vow.

The three of you sink into the couch, the velvet cushions embracing you with a quiet kind of luxury. The softness beneath you draws a breath from your lips, a momentary lull, a calm before the storm.

You lean back, letting the plush give beneath you, and reach out with both hands, fingers curling around the backs of their necks. There’s a craving in the gesture, a need too deep for words. You draw them in, Zayne to your left, Caleb to your right, and they come willingly, caught in your gravity.

Your lips meet in the middle, a shared heat blooming between the three of you. The kiss is slow, decadent, a tangle of mouths and breath, where time seems to pause and the world stops its spinning. Hands slide, curious, devoted as the air thickens with want.

Three mouths crash together in a single, breathless kiss; chaotic, fevered, full of demand. Their hands move over you like you're something they've both been starving for. Zayne's calloused fingers find your neck, tracing your skin with a rough tenderness, thumb brushing the hollow of your throat like he wants to feel every stutter of your heartbeat. Caleb's hands are lower, gripping your hips hard, trying to keep you pressed tight against him, as if he needs your body molded to his just to stay grounded.

They're not gentle, they're hungry. And you? You let them take what they can get.

Caleb finds his fingers playing with the metal teeth of your jeans, he opens it just enough to show the lacey garment of your panties. He slid a hand inside, just above the fabric and your sweet nectar was already leaking through, warm—wet. Caleb teased at your opening just above the thin cloth, fingers barely touching your desperate skin.

You begin to buck your hips, meeting his palm with friction, while Zayne was busy wandering over your tits, cupping them with his large hands. You arch your back, the sensation is overwhelming, blinding in its intensity, unlike anything you've ever felt.

You're caught between them, entirely at their mercy, every touch setting your nerves alight. In their hands, you’re not just wanted, you’re claimed, handled like something precious and wicked all at once. A plaything, yes, but one they revere.

Caleb pulls away from the kiss the three of you melted into, his breath warm and uneven against your skin. His fingers drift across your forehead like smoke, slow and lingering, before tucking a silken strand of your hair behind your ear

“Need ya on your knees, sweetie.” He speaks, and all you can do is nod, the weight of his voice leaving no room for hesitation.

Your knees sink into the plush cushion of the couch, spine arching slightly as you look up at Zayne, silent, watchful, waiting for Caleb to make the first move. Caleb’s fingers graze your waist as he works your pants down with deliberate slowness, each inch a silent claim. Beside you, Zayne slides his coat from his shoulders, letting it fall without a word, the soft thud of fabric on the floor is a quiet promise of what’s to come.

“You’re gonna suck Zayne off while I have my way with ‘ya, m’kay?” Caleb’s lips graze your temple in a lingering kiss, soft as a whisper, while the chilly air in the room dances across your skin, raising goosebumps in its wake. His hands are the only warmth you know, trailing over your bare flesh with a touch as he shifts behind you, slow and sure.

Your hands grip at Zayne’s waistband, fingers lingering the thick fabric that trace the length of his thighs. You pull them down, linen sliding off below his knees. Zayne swallows hard, a flush of crimson blooming across his cheeks as his hand rises to cradle your jaw. You lean into his touch, nuzzling softly into his palm, your eyes shimmering with longing as you gaze up at him.

“Okay.” You mumble against Zayne’s skin, the tip of his cock grazing your chin. You take the shaft in your hand, tugging on it, leaving a quiet harbor underneath his skin. Moans rise from the top of his diaphragm, breath shaky and desperate—he takes a handful of your hair in his grip.

Caleb’s lips caress at the nape of your neck, soft yet intoxicating. His hands reaches around your waist, body pressed against yours as he leans towards your ear. Caleb’s eyes fix on the figure that is Zayne, yet his voice is sharp and direct, each word meant for you alone—weighted, deliberate, impossible to ignore. “Just like that, baby.”

Caleb’s practically salivating, tongue licking the bottom of his lips before his palm lands on your gentle slope of skin, the sharp sting on your ass sending you wincing, teeth clenched.

“You’re doing so good already.” Zayne hushes you softly, his thumb tracing slow circles along your jaw as he presses a tender kiss to the crown of your head—warm, grounding, wordless in its affection.

“Isn’t she?” Caleb agrees, Caleb's lips follow a slow, trail down your clothed back, each kiss against the fabric. You falter, melting into the moment, arms folding softly over the cushion as your body leans into his warmth.

“Be gentle with her,” Zayne’s eyebrows furrow, cheeks still glowing as he tries to comfort you. “You’re too rough—”

“You’re just jealous.” Caleb cuts him off, snapping right back. “I think you need me to be rough with you too…” His voice deep, and rebellion sparks in his eyes—low, petrifying.

Zach’s eyes widened, nearly caught off guard. Making out with both of you at once was one thing—but did Caleb just say that? And even more surprising, did he actually seem to enjoy hearing it?

He turns his head away from Caleb’s hypnotizing gaze, about to say something, only to be interrupted by your lips around the throbbing head of his cock.

“Shit…” He looks down, watching as you enjoy yourself on his length. Your eyes closed—mouth watery, his shaft glides smoothly on your tongue.

Caleb on the other hand, presses his lips on your precious mound, his thumb sliding down your wet slick, making you moan around Zayne.

Before you know it, two slender fingers slide into your cunt, and you find your body rushed with pleasure. You want to speak with the ecstacy that flows through you, but your throat is full of Zayne’s cock, your words muffle.

Caleb’s fingers soak in white cream, thickening with each thrust. His lips part at the sight, huffing in palpable thirst. His hand slides from your ass and around your waist, reaching for the bud that has been begging to be touched. His thumb circles on your clit, fingers deepening inside you and gliding past that sweet spot that sends you in perfect abliss.

Every sensation from Caleb sends electricity through you, your eyes rolling back and your hips buck in harmony with his fingers—and each groan that arises from you meets Zayne with intense want curling in his core.

Zayne thrusts himself in your mouth, hitting the surface of your throat. Each moan that escapes his lips utterly consumes you, your pussy gushing in its wetness, your walls clenching around Caleb’s fingers.

Zayne grasps your face in his hands, his hold so strong it softens your jaw into submission. He positions himself firmly, slamming his hips into your mouth. You drool around his cock, saliva running down the floor like droplets.

Caleb gazes at Zayne taking control, the sight sending his cock in a throbbing mess underneath his trousers, begging for escape. He slides his fingers out, hand reaching out for the man before him.

“Taste.” Caleb commands, the length of his fingers covered in your juice—brushing along Zayne’s parted lips, mouth ajar and inviting.

Zayne follows, eyes dark with want, his tongue slipping out to chase the taste of you on Caleb's fingers. He pauses, gaze locked with Caleb's, a flicker of hesitation sparking between them, then he leans in, lips parting wider. He takes Caleb's fingers into his mouth, slow and deep, sucking them clean as he consumes you. .

Zayne pulls back, eyes glazed with raw need, breath shallow with desperation. Caleb doesn’t hesitate—he grabs him, pulling him into a kiss that crashes between them, all heat and hunger and something dangerously close to giving in, tasting your sweet cream in their kiss, melting in both of their tongues.

Caleb’s attention falls back on you, thumb still running in circles around your clit, his pace quickening. It’s a sensation you can’t describe, the pit in your stomach deepening into the unknown. Zayne’s cock begins to throb, your cheeks hollowing around him as you pull it out in a pop.

“Fuck—Caleb!” You cry out, your breath catching as your head presses into the cushions, hips arching instinctively as Caleb’s hand claims you with slow, aching enticement. His thumb fastens, pressing hard as he coos at you.

“Just like that, baby…” Zayne’s cock twitches in pleasure, your hand tightening around his shaft as you keep your momentum. He was near to his release, a wave of contractions rippled inside his stomach.

Beads of sweat fall at the side of your temples, you’re practically fucking yourself on Caleb’s hand, and the sight of Zayne reaching for his high has gotten you into an aroused mess.

“Don’t hold it in, angels.” Caleb lets out a tender coo, a slow smile blooming on his lips as he watches you and Zayne, completely undone in pleasure. A wave hits through your body, the sensation buzzing through your head.

You scream out, your hand gripping on Zayne’s cock, stroking it until his thighs quiver, a final shiver of delight lingering through him before he finally releases, his load leaking all around your hand. A deep groan bubbles from his throat, and the sight of him has Caleb ravening for more.

The man behind you takes his fingers in his mouth, tasting your high on his tongue. His grin appears once more, the sight of you and Zayne leaving him carnivorous.

“My turn.”

author's note: HAPPY PRIDE TO BISEXUAL CALEZAYNE!!! also i hope you guys enjoyed this as much as i did :3 i need them both tremendously bad.

also!!! challengers... zendaya... you will always be famous

read my new sylus fanfic here.

[comradeocean]

"I am often asked if Israel makes Jewish people unsafe. The answer is clearly yes. However, first and foremost, no one is as endangered by Israel as Palestinians.

It is possible that close to a million Palestinian people have been murdered by Israel over the past 20 months. They have been bombed, sniped, burned alive, crushed under buildings, raped, beaten, attacked by dogs. Left to die in incubators. Frozen to death. Denied water and healthcare.

Over 2 million people are being starved to death while I type these words, and this doesn’t count the hundreds of thousands of Palestinians who have been murdered and displaced from their land over the past 77 years. Regardless of one’s awareness of the Nakba and the ongoing violence perpetuated by the State of Israel since 1948, we are now all watching the most horrific things imaginable being done to the Palestinian people every day. No one can say they didn’t know.

And yet, somehow, cries of antisemitism have the power to flip reality on its head. People on the Jewish left — including the organisations Jewish Voices for Peace and If Not Now — have tripped over themselves to condemn violent resistance and mourn all lives.

In doing so, these organizations and individuals once again center Jewish feelings and Jewish safety when the real story is Israel’s ongoing genocide of Palestinians, when the real problem is Zionism, when the real danger is Israel, when the real crisis is Jewish people consenting or supporting the Jewish State’s crimes against humanity.

Don’t be distracted by this manoeuvre. This is simply a way to deflect attention away from what is most likely the most horrific and widespread human-led atrocity in history.

Israel, the United States, Canada, and many European states have weaponised false accusations of antisemitism to justify their crimes against humanity. When we enter into disingenuous antisemitism debates, we are allowing the story to shift away from what really matters and what really matters is genocide and the global indifference to Palestinian death.

Once this genocide is over and Palestine is free, we can spend all the time we want reflecting on how Israel has been bad for all of us, including Jewish people. Once the genocide is over and Palestine is free, we can talk about how Israel really did make Jewish people more unsafe.

Right now, those conversations are not only a distraction, they are a form of narrative violence when Israel is still granted impunity and financial support to continue with its project of genocide and ethnic cleansing by and in the name of the Jewish people.

To quote Mohammed El-Kurd, it's not the Palestinians' fault that these people are Jewish.

As Israel’s interception of the Madleen and abduction of 12 activists in International waters has recently revealed, non-violent resistance cannot and will not end state violence.

In fact, it never has, and, as we have seen from Palestine to Los Angeles, condemnation of violent resistance merely legitimises and supports state violence. As the United States government continues its support for Israel’s crimes against humanity, we will likely see an escalation of events like those in Washington DC and Boulder, Colorado.

As these events unfold, we mustn't be distracted by antisemitism dog whistles and instead acknowledge these acts as political reactions to political violence. The people experiencing real and material identity-based violence right now are Palestinians, who are being exterminated en masse because they are Palestinian.

Resistance to the Jewish supremacist project of Zionism, which is an inherently settler colonial project of genocide, is not antisemitic. It is instead an anti-colonial form of resistance. Anyone condemning the recent waves of political assassinations and spectacles of violence clearly and specifically orchestrated as a form of political resistance should instead redirect their outrage to this: almost one million Palestinians, murdered in the most extreme and horrific ways.

Two million people are being actively starved to death by Israel. This is the violence we should be condemning. Any violence against Israel, the US, or individuals supporting Israel and the US’s ongoing genocide is resistance and should be framed as such. To draw on antisemitism in this moment is both a form of genocide denial and an incitement to more violence against Palestinians."

-- Maura Finkelstein, "Israel uses antisemitism as cover for Gaza genocide. It's a trap."

Not to be nuanced on tumblr but I think it’s possible to believe that there are severe human rights abuses happening in Palestine right now and also believe that it’s wrong to try and rectify this by instilling fear in Jewish communities via violence.

[kingkaisen]

Prompt idea: Royal knight Kento or Suguru that falls for the princess they’re protecting

VULCANIA — Kento N.

♛ — 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: the king has given kento nanami one very important task and no say in the matter: protect you, the beloved princess, with his life. however, the knight can’t help but wonder . . . if you ever found yourself in danger, could he protect you? Would he protect you?

♛ — 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓: spicy kissing scene but overall sfw, feral nanami, angst, fluff, major violence, mentions of war, minor character deaths, slight enemies to lovers, brief mention of arranged marriages, geto, gojo, & sukuna make an appearance. this takes place in a mythical world! oh, and animals adore you.

♛ — 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 10k (sorry, I was having a blast)

♛ — 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: dividers by @uzmacchiato!

Kento Nanami wanted to hate you.

Truly, he did. He tried.

After all, his bloodline’s only purpose was to shed blood; to die in service of whomever sat on the throne, as well as their spoiled spouse and privileged offspring. 

An unstable, overemotional king would often start a war over a bruised ego and an insatiable thirst for power. And every time — every single time — a king declared war on another nation, be it near or far, members of Kento’s family would die a pointless death on a battlefield.

More land and subjects for the king. Another funeral to attend for Kento.

The Nanamis were widely known as one of the most loyal families within the kingdom of Umarith, born and bred to serve the royals through knighthood.

Therefore, he was prepared for the day he kneeled before the king and received the title of a knight, as he had practically learned how to hold a tiny wooden sword and swing it before he learned his ABCs.

However, what he wasn’t prepared for, was to be less of a new knight — an honorable warrior who maintained order within the villages while protecting the weak until called into battle — and more of a personal bodyguard, one who would be responsible for protecting you, the princess.

“Your Majesty,” Kento Nanami glanced up from the polished ground he kneeled on, locking eyes with the king himself. “With all due respect, protecting the princess sounds like a task that should belong to a knight of a higher ranking than myself. I’m just a newbie.”

“You officially became a knight only a month ago, yes, however, your ancestors served the throne as knights! Your descendants will too! I cannot think of a knight more worthy of protecting my beloved daughter than a Nanami.” The erratic king paused, stepped away from the kneeling warrior, and headed for his gold-lined throne. A sigh escaped his lips as he sat down. “Your father was the first knight to throw himself in front of me when an enemy drew his sword during the Cursed War. I trust that, should the princess ever find herself in danger, you will do the same for her. That is how you were raised! Raised!”

Kento lowered his head. If it wouldn’t send him straight to the dungeons, he would have slammed his gauntlet-covered fist against the king’s jaw.

His father’s death was pointless. Unnecessary. He took a sword to the heart to protect a man who wanted wealth. And here Kento was, kneeling to said man. Kneeling to the man who expected him to do the same thing. Expected. It was expected.

But if the palace was overrun by murderous thieves, or the kingdom found itself in war yet again, or a massive fire-breathing dragon released scorching flames throughout the palace, would Kento save you?

The daughter of the man who was responsible for his father’s demise?

And his uncle’s?

And his suffering mother’s misery?

He didn’t know if he could truly be so selfless. 

Even with a cloud of angered confusion hanging above his head and the burden of being responsible for a royal’s life resting upon his shoulders, he simply stared down at the marble floor, parted his lips, and mumbled, “understood, Your Majesty. I will protect her with my life.”

— ♛ —

The stranger he promised to protect with his life was waiting for him at the other end of the palace.

What an exhausting walk. Kento grew to despise you more and more with every step he took. The servants that lingered behind him had undoubtedly climbed the never-ending grand staircases multiple times a day, but even their faces had grown red, their chests heaving as they waited on you hand and foot.

The endless torment that was knight training — was this all it would amount to? Had he unknowingly been preparing to just climb stairs, nothing more? At least he wasn’t sweating or breathless like the servants who darted back and forth around the castle.

No, that wasn’t quite right.

He was sweating a bit. He could feel the warm droplets accumulating on his forehead, making his loose blonde strands stick to his skin, but it wasn’t from exhaustion.

He was nervous.

When Kento was four and the royals celebrated your birth — which would become an official holiday honored with festivities and balls — it began then. The kingdom-wide worship.

His own mother would tuck him into the straw-filled bed he shared with his siblings.

“Goodnight, my loves,” she’d whisper, kissing their foreheads. “May the Vulcania Princess bring us warmth and bless us all.”

While your father ruled Umarith officially, it was you who mattered most. The Vulcania Princess. The precious gem of the kingdom. Everyone, from the privileged to the peasants, praised your nickname during their prayers before mealtime or before their slumber.

Those with the right amount of gold and the right amount of time traveled for days to fall to their knees before you, begging for you to bless their children or their crops. 

As Kento aged, the curriculum surrounding his education primarily focused on knighthood and the royals. He sat criss-crossed on the floor of his raggedy one-room school that smelt of old wood, and listened to his elderly teacher ramble on, on, and on about you, you, you, her eyes glistening with admiration behind her round glasses. 

The people of Umarith originally attached the name Vulcania to your princess title following your birth, as during that cherished year, the brutalizing cold seasons came to an end, and the warm seasons were the hottest they had ever been in centuries. Sleeping volcanoes were once again active. Creatures of all kinds who sought warmth — even those thought to be extinct due to the prolonged cold weather — would sneak their way into your palace. Flowers bloomed. The hungry were able to grow food once again. The sun shone brighter than ever. 

Before your mother, the queen, passed away, she claimed that your skin was always warm to the touch, as if your soul was aflame. 

Therefore, the people wanted to give you a title that represented a connection to fire, warmth, and passion. 

Kento tried to recall any and all facts he was forcibly taught about you as he approached the double doors of your bedchamber. He had only come to know your appearance through the statues and famous paintings spread throughout the villages, but never before had he sat his eyes on you.

Well, that was all about to change.

Kento raised his fist. As his knuckles tapped three times against the door, he thought about The Statue of the Vulcania Princess — an enormous, intimidating sculpture in the center of his village that touched the sky. 

All at once, as Kento thought about the endless worship be it from humans or animals that followed you everywhere — and as a red-haired servant opened the door and let him inside — it hit Kento that he wasn’t protecting a mere princess.

He was protecting a goddess.

Shit.

The Goddess of Fire was sitting on a lavish sofa in front of a fireplace, that much he could tell from where he stood. It was rather difficult to make out your mysterious features, your extensive bedroom was dark aside from the flickering flames illuminating your face just a bit, and you hadn’t yet turned your head to look at whomever was entering your bedchamber, but even so, Kento ignored the thumping of his heart, cleared his throat, and bowed.

“Your Royal Highness, I-”

“Stop bowing.” 

Kento raised his head slowly. He was careful not to let his face reflect his confusion, offering a blank expression instead.

“We are going to be spending plenty of time together whether we like it or not, so we can do without the formalities. It tends to get annoying.” You paused, as if waiting for him to speak, but it was as if Kento’s mind decided to forgo any prior knowledge of how to formulate words. 

He turned his head to face one of the servants standing against the wall, as if seeking confirmation from the quiet, redheaded young girl that you had, in fact, told him to stop bowing.

“You are my personal knight, yes?” 

“That’s correct, ma’am.”

“You’re not very good at following directions, are you?”

“Forgive me. This is the first time I’ve ever been told to act informal with a royal.”

You sighed, leaning back on your sofa, which put more distance between yourself and the flames of your fireplace — It was quite identical to how your father would sigh and lean back in his throne. As if doing nothing and being a pampered royal was oh so hard. Like father, like daughter — and your new position rid Kento of the small details of your features he could see. Now, you were nothing more than a dark figure. 

Just why was your bedroom so dark?

“Come here.”

Metal clanked against metal, filling the silence, as Kento made his way around your sofa and in front of your line of sight, blocking part of your fireplace. The flames that were able to dance around him illuminated him well, and your eyes darted across every feature of the knight standing before you.

“Blonde hair, brown eyes, well-built . . . you’re a Nanami, aren’t you?”

Kento met your question with silence. 

Truth be told, he hadn’t heard your question, because from this short distance, he finally got a somewhat decent look at your face; your mesmerizing, undeniably gorgeous face. 

It all made sense now, why the Vulcania Princess was the one everyone, rich and poor, fell to their knees and prayed to during both their darkest hours and happier times. Why the Vulcania Princess was the one who could end devastating, catastrophic world wars with a couple of mere words. Why the Vulcania Princess had princes and kings from kingdoms near and far eager to start said devastating, catastrophic world wars to wipe out their enemies just for the mere chance of dancing with you at a ball. 

Never before had he seen someone so devastatingly beautiful.

The paintings and statues he had seen of you throughout his entire life failed to capture the glistening stars within your bright eyes, or the smooth, though plump appearance of your skin. Your soft, tempting lips were as enchanting as a love spell all on their own.

“Tell me the truth. Do you hate me?”

Your soft voice snapped Kento out of his daze-like state. His eyes widened for a moment before he regained his composure.

“No. I don’t hate you.”

“You do. I can see it in your eyes. I’d love to know why.” You tilted your head a bit. “Were you hoping for a different career path within knighthood? One more exciting than being a guard dog to a princess? Did you want to be on the front lines during a war, perhaps?”

Kento gritted his teeth, his jaw clenching a bit. Despite the way his body showcased his true feelings, his words tried to convey the opposite. “I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong first impression, but I-”

“What’s your name? Your first name?”

“Kento.” 

“Kento.” You gave him a gentle smile. It ignited a new flame of infuriation within him. “Be honest with me, Kento. No formalities, no lies. Why do you hate me? Tell me the truth.”

Kento frowned with uncertainty. Answering your question honestly went against every bit of his training, every lesson forced into his body and mind, but could he truly pass up the chance to say his peace? Could he?

“How do I know the truth won’t get me hung?” He asked.

“Rest assured knowing my father chose decapitation as a form of execution.” Your words were met with silence. This, in turn, led you to speak again. “See? You didn’t laugh at my awful joke. People who admire me would have faked a little chuckle, at the very least. So, why do you hate me?”

Kento shifted his feet. “Why do you want to know so badly?”

“I think my curiosity is only natural. I’m sure if someone hated you, you would like to know why.”

“Not if it was a complete stranger.”

“What if it were a stranger who was responsible for your safety? A stranger who was supposed to die for you without hesitation?” You crossed one leg over the other, the silk gown covering your body shifting slightly. “Do you see why I’m desperate to know?”

“That’s why.”

“Hm?”

“That’s why I . . . dislike you. I’m supposed to die for you. Becoming a knight is the fate of all Nanami whether we like it or not. My father was a knight. His father was a knight. My cousins are knights. I am a knight. If I have a son, he’ll become a knight, and he’ll have to watch as I kill and die protecting you royals, because it’s the only way to put food on the table. My father died protecting yours, and I’m sure I’ll die protecting you. I could refuse. I could pick a different career path, but then my mother and my siblings would starve, all because I’d be a disgrace, blacklisted out of every other potential career. Nanamis are expected to become knights, or to rot and die.” Kento glanced down at his heavy hand, covered with armor. “And the pay is quite low.”

“I see.” 

When Kento glanced up at you yet again, he could see the gears in your head turning, your mind taking in every word. But, even so, all you managed to say were those two, simple, meaningless words.

That was the first and last time you and Kento spoke to one another that day.

— ♛ —

TWO WEEKS LATER

One would think that protecting a dear princess who often did nothing more than sit by a fireplace would be an easy task.

One would think.

Over fourteen days in counting had passed since this aggravating honor was bestowed upon him, and one thing he learned was that your presence was indeed enchanting, and all living creatures wanted to enjoy your warmth. More often than not, the knight was pushing starstruck — or, rather, godstruck — subjects away from you that managed to break free from knight-patrolled crowds whenever you left your palace. 

Animals, however, were okay. 

And he learned that the hard way.

“A heads up next time would be nice,” Kento once said, rather breathless, releasing the handle of his sword and letting it fall back into its scabbard. His heart rate hadn’t yet returned to normal.

There you were, sitting on the floor of your private library, stroking the mane of an enormous lion that rested its head in your lap.

As massive as it was, as dangerous as it was, the lion rubbed its head against your gown as if it were pouting. Both it, and you, rolled your eyes at Kento.

“Surely you were told that animals sometimes inhabit the palace to seek out my warmth.”

“I was, but . . .” he paused, blinking in bewilderment. “A lion?”

Your lips pointed downward into a small pout as you stroked the creature, as if to comfort it and say: “It’s okay, I’ll protect you from the big bad knight, it’s okay.”

“This isn’t just any lion. This is my lion. He wandered far from his home when he was only a cub. The poor thing was cold and was hiding in my garden. I found him, raised him, and he comes and goes whenever he pleases. You should apologize to him.”

“Apologize? To a lion?”

“Yes,” your frown deepened, and your eyes found Kento’s. “Can’t you see you hurt his feelings? You pulled your sword out on him.”

“I was trying to do my job and protect you. I didn’t know it-” 

“He.”

Kento released a heavy sigh. Just what sort of nonsense had he gotten himself into? “I didn’t know he was a pet. Are there any other animals I should be aware of? I should consider making a list.”

You scoffed, knowing quite well he was hinting at the sudden appearance of bunnies sitting on his chest when he awakened one morning, just last week.

Three days ago, butterflies were swirling around your head. Four? Three birds — two small, one big — fluttered around you, landing on your hands and shoulders as they pleased.

“May I ask what a lion is doing in the library specifically?” Kento questioned.

Folding your arms across your chest, staring at him as if the answer was rather obvious, you said, “I was reading to him, clearly. Animals enjoy tales just as much as humans and faes.”

Just then, Kento’s eyes flickered over to the open book resting on the floor beside your thigh. He shook his head in disbelief. 

“Right, of course, well,” he awkwardly scratched the side of his head, fingers messing up his blonde strands. “I’m sorry to you, and to the lion.”

Your hand raised; you were motioning him over.

He was hesitant, but Kento kneeled. He couldn’t help but widen his eyes in surprise when you removed one of his armored gloves and grabbed ahold of his hand with your own.

His cheeks burned. Your eyes; they darted up briefly at his reddening cheeks, but you didn’t make a verbal comment. He was rather grateful.

His apparent blushing wasn’t due to the sudden skin-to-skin contact — at least, that’s what he convinced himself — but rather, he viewed you as fragile. Soft. Like the glass of a valuable mirror. And his hands? Well, swinging swords and perfecting the art of combat during years of knight training had left him with scars and calloused fingertips. He viewed himself as rough. Hard. Like sandpaper scratching against uneven metal. 

Your soft hand warmed his rough one as you guided it towards the lion’s mane. Gently, you rested his hand against its thick hair and released it, and Kento found himself missing your warmth.

How odd.

“Apologize properly,” you demanded. You nodded your head down to his hand. Spending all of his time with you had gifted him with the ability to understand your every intention, and with a sigh, Kento stroked the lion’s mane.

“I’m sorry.”

“Reo.”

He looked at you. There was no hint of amusement in your eyes. You were quite serious.

He returned his gaze to the big, pouting lion, and said, “I’m sorry, Reo.”

And with that, Kento left the library — only to stand outside the doors as a guard, of course. As he shut the heavy library doors behind him, he heard you mumble to the lion, “Try to forgive him, Reo. He means well.”

The creature groaned in response.

Kento ran his bare hand across his face. “Did that really just happen?” He thought.

But, a more pressing thought — one more shocking than apologizing to and petting a lion — presented itself within his mind like an intruder. 

“I miss her warmth already.”

— ♛ —

TWO MONTHS LATER

“Greetings to all! Welcome to the Vulcania Princess’s Birthday Ball!” 

Esteemed guests dressed in stunning ballgowns and extravagant tuxedos let their applause fill the enormous ballroom. Oh, was it enormous, with golden and white accents decorating the walls and pillars, and marvelous chandeliers hanging from the high ceilings. On the other side of the ballroom, there was an entire orchestra performing on a balcony, only stopping their classical music to hear the king speak.

The king stood beside your throne as he prattled on with greetings and thanks. Kento himself was like a guard dog, standing a little ways behind your throne, eyeing the crowd.

He toned out most of the king’s speech. Most of his guests did as well, but their eyes glowed with admiration — not for him, but for you. After all, it was you, and this evening, you were wearing a puffy, lilac ballgown adorned with flowers, and a bright tiara sat perfectly on your head — every strand of your hair was styled to your liking.

At some point, the king finally stopped talking, and guests continued to mingle and dance. Kento stood back and watched as three well-dressed men approached your throne. Their attire was more sophisticated than that of a standard — albeit wealthy in name or fortune — guest, and Kento gathered that they were princes from other kingdoms.

“Kneel before my daughter!” The king shouted.

It wasn’t customary for princes to kneel to someone of an equal rank, but the three men took a knee in front of your throne with no hesitation.

The king, now satisfied, looked down at you.

“I’ll leave you to it, my dear,” he said before walking off, eager to partake in the refreshments.

“Your Royal Highness,” a man with long, black hair began to speak. “I am Prince Suguru of Ravane, your closest partner in trade. We met briefly during the Fae’s Flower Festival last year. Please, allow me the honor of gifting you three necklaces made with the rarest and finest gemstones that can only be harvested by faes alone, all in exchange for your first dance this evening.”

“Pardon the interruption Your Royal Highness, but,” the man beside him, one with white hair and a boyish grin, suddenly interrupted. “As someone wise enough not to gift you something you own a thousand of, I think I should be the one to have your first dance. And you’re probably wondering why, right? Well . . .”

The man rose to his feet, wrapping his fingers around the handle on top of a tiny crate he had sat beside him. He started to approach the throne. As his feet moved, so did Kento’s. Though he was careful not to interrupt, he was close enough to your throne to make his presence known; a silent warning to the white-haired man: don’t try anything foolish.

The man opened the tiny crate. Suddenly, a small, red creature unsteadily flew out of the open door.

You held out your hands, and it landed there, as if it knew — it knew — that was where it belonged.

“A baby dragon! Oh my goodness,” you grinned down at the animal.

“Prince Satoru of Soulan, my love,” the man winked.

“Home of the dragons. Of course.” The incredibly tiny dragon spun around in two circles before settling down, resting its head on your palm. “And what kind have you gifted to me?”

“Well, in my kingdom, rumor has it that you spend most of your free time sitting in front of your fireplace. I figured there must be some truth to it, considering you’re called the Vulcania Princess and the Goddess of Fire for a reason. Because of that, I think it’s only right for you to own a Flame Dragon. Whaddya think?”

“Damn, giving her the most common type of dragon in your kingdom, huh? Sounds to me like you don’t think she’s worth the effort.”

The interjection came from the third prince, a buff man with pink hair and an unfriendly gaze.

Satoru turned to face him, stepping away from your throne. “Oh my god, get lost, Sukuna. Didn’t your kingdom try to burn hers to the ground, what, two or three years ago? Why are you here to begin with?”

“Something about makin’ peace with your enemies,” the buff prince smirked.

“You’re both being awfully informal in front of the princess. Watch your mouths,” Suguru, now joining in, rose to his feet.

Satoru rolled his blue eyes, mumbling, “I heard that your little kingdom is surviving off of tomatoes or something. Is that why you . . .”

The three bickering princes continued on and on, but you paid them no mind, too preoccupied with the tiny creature in your hands.

Kento leaned down a little ways across your throne.

“Perhaps I should hold on to the dragon for you. It could be dangerous,” he said.

“No way! He’s already bonding with me. Look!” The dragon alternated between crawling on its four legs and fluttering its way up your arm with its tiny, dark red wings. “What should I name him? What should I feed him? I know nothing of raising a dragon. Do you?”

“Afraid not.” He watched the dragon make a bed out of your shoulder, resting against the crook of your neck. “They only taught us how to slay one.”

That statement made you glare up at Kento.

“I won’t hurt him, I promise,” he said defensively, yet gently. “Once he grows, I might be out of a job. He and that lion of yours could protect you better than I ever could.” 

“I have a feeling you could protect me very well, you just refuse to do so.”

Your words caught him by surprise. His disdain for his career was no foreign topic between the two of you, but even so, he hadn’t expected you to bring it up. Not right now. Not like this.

Especially considering that, well, he instinctively found himself doing just that in one way or another. Protecting you.

“I-”

“I understand, Kento. I don’t like the idea of anyone dying for me just as much as you don’t like the idea of dying for someone.” You paused, looking away from him and back at the three, arguing princes. “Let's go for a stroll. I have a feeling these men are about to start fighting one another. I’m not looking forward to picking one to dance with.”

— ♛ —

There was only one place you deemed perfect enough for a stroll: the vast gardens surrounding the palace. Hedge mazes, luscious trees, and colorful, blossoming flowers of all kinds were illuminated by the bright moonlight. Together, you and Kento walked in a comfortable silence.

A little while after passing one of the greenhouses, Kento spoke.

“When I was younger, learning about you royals was just as important as learning how to read or put on armor. I remember what they taught us about you.” “Oh?” You mumbled, though you didn’t give him a look of surprise. “What kind of things did they teach you? Can you recall any of it?”

“Well, for starters, they told us how much you adored spending time in the garden, especially during the warmer months.”

“I don’t see how that knowledge benefits any of you.”

“It doesn’t, but now, I enjoy figuring out what might have been true or false. Clearly, that part was true.” 

A soft smile as gentle as the moonlight appeared on your face.

“What else is there to know about you?” Kento asked. 

Internally, his curiosity puzzled him. Just why did he care? 

He couldn’t explain it, but his heart and soul felt like it was caught in a game of tug-of-war, and the rope was a very thin line between love and hate. Love.

No.

No . . . that couldn’t have been it.

Not for the woman who sat by her fireplace all day. Not for the woman who never had to work a day in her life. Not for the woman whose biggest obstacle in life was deciding which ballgown to wear or which animal to cuddle with.

Not for the woman who was the daughter of the asshole of a king who got his father killed.

Kento tried to grimace at the thought, but that thought brought him no trouble. 

Oh, how he wished it did.

A small, baby fox with large ears dashed out of the shrubbery surrounding the walking path, darting across his foot. 

“Hmm, well,” you paused in thought, paying no mind to the sandy-colored creature that decided to follow you, hopping along with every step you took. The sudden sound of your soft voice snapped Kento out of his pleasant — though he wished they were unpleasant — thoughts. “My tiara makes my head itch. I’ve been told that my taste in music is . . . unique. I secretly add extra spices to my food when the chef isn’t looking. I’m a very sensitive person, believe it or not. It took everything in me not to cry after finding out you, a complete stranger at the time, hated me. Lastly, I have saved and nurtured twenty-seven creatures, and that only includes the ones I claim as pets, not ones I’ve simply befriended on a journey.”

“Were any of them as humongous as that dragon will turn out to be?” Kento asked, pointing to the dragon fast asleep on your shoulder. 

“Can’t say. I’m struggling to wrap my mind around the fact that this tiny creature will grow into a gigantic, fire-breathing being. I’m excited.” You halted your footsteps. The small fox trailing you took the opportunity to climb up the back of your dress, claws digging into the puffy, lilac fabric that adorned your body until it sprawled across your other, free shoulder, but you didn’t seem to mind. It was a tad bit bigger than the dragon, and Kento figured that having two small animals resting on your shoulders couldn’t have been comfortable, but you simply smiled, and greeted the baby fox with, “Hello, sweetheart,” before turning your attention back to Kento. “Anyway, I’m sure my father will oppose the idea of me keeping a dragon. He thinks I’ll be responsible for my own demise.”

“We have our differences, but I might have to agree with the king on that one.”

“Be that as it may, I refuse to let him take little Blaze away from me.”

“Blaze?” Kento raised his eyebrows, stifling the urge to laugh. “I wanted something related to fire in any sort of way. Is it too uncreative? Silly? Should I keep brainstorming? I want to name him something he’ll like.” You gazed off at the stars above, biting your lip, puzzled.

After a moment, you glanced back at Kento, and a small pout grazed your moonlit face. “What? You’re being very unhelpful.”

“Blaze is a perfect-”

“You’re trying to flatter my dear dragon so he won’t set you ablaze when he’s older.” You smiled gently. Kento blinked. You then sighed and continued to stroll through the garden. “We talked about this, Kento. You’re supposed to laugh at my terrible jokes to boost my self-esteem.” 

“What?” Kento cleared his throat. “Sorry, I’m pretending that I couldn’t hear you.”

“Oh,” you shook your head. “Just you wait until I teach Blaze how to . . . bite your ankles.”

A genuine, heartfelt laugh escaped Kento. God, how long has it been since he managed to do something like that? It wasn’t anything drastic, nothing more than a somewhat small chuckle, but it occurred to him that, perhaps, he couldn’t remember the last time he was blessed with the chance to truly laugh.

His laugh made your smile brighten — not a gentle, polite smile that he had gotten used to seeing, but a real, full grin that made Kento wonder why the world’s most gifted artists never painted you with such a facial expression.

It was breathtaking.

The stroll resumed for another six minutes. During that time, you and Kento discussed everything from his mother’s favorite meals to make to the new hit play that premiered last week. However, the closer you both ventured towards the entrance to the ballroom, the more your precious smile started to fade.

Kento glanced down at your hands, which fiddled with the necklace around your neck.  

“What troubles you?” He asked.

“You’re wise, so I’m sure you’ve already put the pieces together, you’re great at that I’ve noticed, but . . . this evening, I am not just picking a dance partner, but someone to marry.” You spoke softly. Kento could tell from your tone that this was a bothersome topic for you. “I get to choose, but my choices are limited to those three men. I know how it feels to be born into a role you didn’t ask for. I understand what you’re going through, Kento.”

The knight stopped walking.

As soon as that last sentence slipped from between your glossy lips, Kento’s heart and soul once again felt like it was playing a game of tug-of-war. Love and Hate. And right now, as a wave of anger washed over him, the latter was winning.

“With all due respect,” Kento released a shaky breath. He wouldn’t lose his composure so easily, but he had to speak his mind. He had to. “You don’t know what it’s like. You live a pampered life. Your hands are free from scratches or burns or anything that signifies hard work, and you have never known hunger and loss like I have — hunger and loss that is a direct result of the actions you royals take. I’m sorry you have to pick between three rich, attractive princes who are ready to go to war for you and you find yourself incapable of doing anything more difficult than sitting on a sofa all day, but that in no way compares to . . .” 

He felt his composure slip. His tone was getting dark. Voice was getting harsh. Taking a deep breath, avoiding your gaze all the while, Kento parted his lips, preparing to let an apology slip from between them, then suddenly, you said, “You should take a break. Stay out here a little longer to get some fresh air by yourself. I’ll be fine.” You gave him a sad smile. Pulling the dragon, Blaze, off your shoulder, you held the sleepy creature against your chest, as if seeking its comfort. Though you tried to hide it, your smile couldn’t disguise the glistening hurt within your eyes. You were sensitive. That’s right.

“I should head back inside,” you mumbled. “Everyone will be looking for me.”

“Your Royal Highness, please forgive me. I’m sorry. Not having a say in who you want to spend the rest of your life with is terrible. I don’t know why I . . . please forgive me.” Kento called out, his words sincere, face twisted in anguish, but you continued walking. 

Then suddenly, you paused. He thought that, perhaps, you were reconsidering parting ways with him, that you were going to smile and tell him to drop the formalities, but your momentary falter was just to let the small fox descend your body before you reentered the palace.

The tiny creature ran across the gardens, and you were gone.

— ♛ —

Kento sat on an outdoor bench made of stone. The garden that stretched before him represented you in every way. After all, it was you who brought the very warmth that made the variety of flowers in this garden bloom. Your existence, the flame within you, brought an end to a Cold World; saved the shivering animals and children on the brink of death, blossomed plants that fed the poor and starved, and ended the days of endless freezing. 

Kento was only four when you were born, but, as he sat on the soft cream-colored bench that you undoubtedly picked out yourself, he thought about the faint memory of that day. The day of your birth.

The terrifying blankets of snow and ice melted. Animals thought to be dead and extinct were running, jumping, and hopping about. Fleeting citizens from the western villages crowded the cobblestone streets as a sleeping volcano suddenly awakened. Flowers and plants sprawled spontaneously — his mother, who was pale and shivering as she held on to her children moments before, stepped outside and plucked a fresh grape off a grapevine that had appeared outside of their raggedy cottage.

Suddenly, the rope involved in the game of tug-of-war between his heart and soul had snapped, and it hit him all at once.

Your father was responsible for his father’s death, yes, but you . . . you saved him. You saved his mother.

A bittersweet smile graced Kento’s face. His stomach churned; was it butterflies? Knots? He didn’t know. Perhaps, he’d never come to understand the feelings you evoked within him.

But he knew one thing for certain.

The idea of your beautiful face frowning as tears threatened to fall from your eyes — on your birthday, nevertheless — from the words he spoke made his heart ache.

Kento rose from the bench. Just as he took a step towards the entrance of the ballroom, a sudden force of energy made the ballroom windows shatter. Heat and light filled the sky. The world itself shook as an ear-shattering boom blasted from one side of the palace. 

The knight found himself falling to his knees, as the impact was strong enough to send a shockwave through the garden. His wide eyes witnessed the enormous puff of flames, and part of the palace started to cave in.

Rubble filled the ballroom.

“No. God, no.”

Kento’s legs were numb, but they carried him out of the garden — where frightened animals screeched and ran — and he forced his way inside the ballroom through a broken window. Dark smoke, dust, flames, and never-ending screams of terror filled the air. He coughed, his brown eyes burned which created tears that slipped down his ash-covered face, but he hoisted himself over fallen rubble until he made it to where your throne used to be. 

Now, it was nothing but . . . it was nothing.

His eyes couldn’t make out the mess of debris and flame. The smoke made it difficult to distinguish bodies from stone, but he knew well that before him was that familiar gigantic beast, clawing at the rubble, whimpering. Your beloved lion was searching for you, digging for you. The sight of it gave Kento the devastating confirmation he needed that you were there.

Underneath smoldering embers, a destroyed throne, and pieces of a collapsed ceiling, Kento saw the scraps of a torn lilac ballgown. He ran for it.

Armored hands pulled and pushed away at fallen wreckage so heavy, Kento gritted his teeth due to the pure strain on his body. But, damn it all, he used every bit of his solid muscle to lift, pull, and push, until he saw a bruised, ash-covered leg and heard a weak cry.

Then, all of the debris felt weightless. 

“I’m right here,” Kento called out, careful to keep his voice steady and calm. “I’m coming, just hold on.”

Slowly, your injured, trembling body revealed itself to Kento after he shoved shattered pieces of one of the massive chandeliers. You were face down. As if you were made of glass, fragile, he carefully flipped you over, only to see a scared, but otherwise okay, tiny dragon cradled in your arms.

Your position, and thus, your wounds, told him that you must have shielded it. 

He gritted his teeth. Seeing you like this . . . it was unbearable. Who could have done this?

Kento pulled you into his arms, holding on tightly to your smaller frame.

You whimpered. Blood spewed from your lips, decorating your chin, and Kento pulled you close.

“Shh, it’s okay. I’m going to get you out of here-”

The ballroom shook again. There was another deafening boom, followed by a wave of piercing screams. Another explosion within the palace. Kento could hear the crackling walls and ceilings, and he knew what that meant.

He folded your body underneath his. Reo, your lion, too placed his body over yours. Kento shielded you with his bigger, armor-covered frame, and more rubble started to collapse. Feeling it fall against his protected backside — god, did it hurt. It hurt like hell. But it wasn’t enough to kill or bury him, so he hooked his arm underneath your knees, his other arm cradling your upper half, and he rose to his feet.

“Stay with me,” he glanced down at you as best as he could through his blurred vision. “I promise I’ll protect you. Just stay with me.”

Your eyes fluttered open. Suddenly, they widened, and you began to turn your head frantically every which way as Kento carried you. He parted his lips to tell you to lie still, assuming that you were falling into a state of panic, but before he could utter a single word, you started to squirm around. You wriggled yourself out of his grasp.

You landed on your feet and started running — or rather, limping — in the opposite direction, breathing erratically with every twist and turn of your head.

“Where are you going? We need to leave, now!” Kento shouted.

In your condition, you couldn’t make it far. All he had to do was reach forward, wrap his arm around your waist, and pull you backwards until your back hit his chest.

“Blaze,” you cried. “ . . . Must’ve dropped him! I can’t . . . can’t find him! And there are people still in here, a-and my animals . . . Reo . . . just let me go!”

He tried to ignore your cries. Saving you was his only priority. It had to be. But, as he went to lift you yet again, another explosion, further away this time, sent a violent vibration throughout the ballroom, and he lost a bit of his balance.

That was enough for you to wiggle free. 

Kento shouted your name, but you paid him no mind. The fires scattered throughout the ballroom wouldn’t hurt you, but the collapsing rubble? It could.

You ran across rubble and shoved your way through panicked, running guests, but alas, through the smoke and ash clouding the air, you made out the tiny red creature amidst the debris, fluttering and shrieking. Your dear, frightened baby dragon was searching for you, calling for your help.

You extended your arms, reaching for him. 

That was when you heard it; it, being an unfamiliar voice, one that shouted, “There’s the princess, fucking take her already, dead or alive!”

Someone was charging at you. The nearby burning fires gave you enough light to make out a masked figure, dressed in black, who clenched a knife between his fists, so ready and eager to drive it into the side of your stomach.

Just as the knife nearly grazed your corset, a sword suddenly pierced through the attacker’s stomach, blood and sharp silver steel poking out of him as the light left his murderous eyes.

The sword was then yanked out of him. 

Kento watched the man he murdered fall to the rubble-covered ground with a thump, then his eyes were on you, quickly scanning your body for any new injuries.

But there was no time for you to thank him. No time for him to grab you and run. 

More masked men with knives and swords drawn started to charge at you both.

“Run,” Kento commanded. 

But it amounted to nothing. The masked men circled you both. There was no escape.

Kento turned slowly, counting them. There were five. Five men he would have to kill.

He sighed, deflecting an oncoming attack with ease, driving his own sword into the guts of yet another man. Though he was actively taking someone’s life, his eyes were on you, watching as two men charged at you without weapons: clearly, their preference was to take you alive.

“Shit,” Kento thought, pulling his sword out of the man. 

Your tiny dragon rapidly flapped its wings, fluttering high enough to latch its small mouth to the ankle of one of your attackers. The victim of the little attack winced, reaching down to his ankle in an attempt to pull him off, but you tried to reach for your baby dragon first.

The other masked man took that opportunity to grab a fistful of your hair. He yanked you. Hard. Your head was already bruised and battered from the initial explosion, and this forced a pained cry out of you. 

Kento heard it. He was in the process of stabbing two other masked men when he heard it. 

He clenched his jaw. He gripped the handle of his sword with such force, he could hear his own knuckles crack.

When the masked man who held you by your hair felt the presence of someone behind him, he turned around. His eyes widened at the sight of that massive knight looming over him, one who was already quite big to begin with, but seemed twice as big now. More like a beast than a human. 

“Get your hands off of her,” Kento warned. 

The man was going to reach for his knife, hold it against your neck, and prattle on with some ultimatum, but Kento didn’t give the man a chance to even gasp at the sight of him before he strategically placed his hands around his head and snapped his neck with an unpleasant crack.

As for the final masked man, between dealing with a pesky little dragon who was biting at him and spitting tiny little bouts of flame at his flesh and that pissed-off giant of a knight making his way towards him, he shouted, “Damn it, to hell with all this!” and tried to run away.

He made it four steps before Kento threw his blood-covered sword like a javelin, and it was launched through the masked man’s chest. 

“Are you alright? Did they hurt you?” Kento leaned down. He gazed at you with the softest, worry-filled brown eyes. His thumb grazed your cheek with an utterly surprising gentleness, considering how brutally he had just murdered several men moments before.

You shrugged. “I’m . . . alive. Thank you, Kento.”

He smiled. 

But as the sound of stomping footsteps approached, Kento rose to his feet. This wasn’t over. Whoever was attacking your kingdom, so desperate to capture you, they weren’t planning on giving up just yet.

Kento walked over to the man he had killed last and pulled his sword from his chest as more masked men charged at him, and he found himself in another battle.

You scooped up your dragon and limped towards a broken window, crawling over a mix of fallen debris and corpses. 

“Go,” you mumbled to Blaze, extending your hands to release the small creature. “Return to me when it’s safe, sweetheart.”

Though he was hesitant, the baby dragon groaned with understanding and fluttered away.

You didn’t have the strength of a knight, nor a hard-working subject. But you didn’t let that stop you from grabbing hold of the collar of a random person  — the first living person you could get your hands on. You dragged the whimpering, injured person towards the window, tripping over your ripped lilac ballgown as you gasped and strained, breathless, but you hoisted the person over the window’s ledge and out of the smokey, collapsing, fire and rubble-filled ballroom.

Thank goodness it was on the first floor of the palace.

You fell to your knees. Your breathing was loud. Strained. Every bone in your body ached. New spouts of fresh blood seeped from your wounds, mixing with the ash and dried blood coating your body, but, even though your heart pounded as if it wanted to give out, you rose to your feet. You moved your hands throughout the rubble, and they landed on a torso. One that was rising and falling with shallow breaths. 

One that was small.

“You’ll be alright, my love. Help will come,” you whispered, though your voice was shaking with uncertainty. 

You cautiously put the child out of the window. Then another person. Then another.

You hoisted one woman over your shoulders. She was a tiny thing, but with your exhausted and bruised body, you were certain you’d struggle to carry a small bag of potatoes. But you recognized this woman’s uniform. Though her youthful face was covered with soot, she was one of your servants — the redheaded one who was always in your bedchamber, tending to your needs. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to check whether or not her chest was rising or falling. You only carried her to another broken window, your knees threatening to buckle, and you pushed her out, hearing a little gentle thud as she hit the shrubbery.

“Please let help come. Please let it come,” you whispered.

There was another vibrating explosion in the distance. Orange flames that could be seen from the windows brightened the ballroom. It knocked you off your feet for a moment, but you regained your footing and grabbed the arm of someone on the ground. You strained as you attempted to pull the person free from the fallen pillar they were stuck under, but there was no use. You collapsed in defeat. 

Their visible body was hard to make out, but you ran your hand across their face until you found their nose. No puff of air hit your finger.

With a defeated sigh, you rose to your feet. It was then that you noticed those lifeless, open eyes. And you recognized that shade of blue.

A shocked gasp escaped you. Reaching down, you closed the eyes of Prince Satoru with trembling, bloodied fingers. “I’m sorry,” you cried. “I’m sorry.”

The next several minutes were a blur. 

There you were, using the last of your strength to drag the unconscious, heavily injured body of Prince Suguru across the wreckage, when heavy hands gripped your waist. One second, you were lifted into the air, and in the next, you were being thrown against a fallen, sharp stone. The impact resulted in an explosion of searing pain that was too much for your mind and body to tolerate. You could taste blood.

You were screaming, but you couldn’t hear it. You couldn’t hear anything. You could barely see anything — the last thing you caught a glimpse of before slipping into a realm of unconsciousness were the black boots of a masked man walking towards you, and Kento . . . Kento dashing in front of the man’s raised sword, and getting stabbed through a gap in his ruined armor nearest his lower abdomen.

Your surroundings became nothing more than a black abyss, and there was one, final explosion.

— ♛ —

TWO DAYS LATER

He was staring at a familiar ceiling. 

It was brown. Wooden. Raggedy.

As Kento Nanami blinked, blinked, and blinked, it hit him.

He was home.

He sat up in bed, fighting the burst of pain that surged through him from the bandaged wound on his shirtless lower body. When he looked down, there was a familiar, tiny red dragon resting on his thigh.

“You’re awake. That’s great.” The soft voice startled him. Only then, turning his head to the side, did he realize that you were sitting at his bedside. A brown cloak was draped across your head, a choice clearly made to conceal your identity while walking among your subjects.

Or, given the recent events that were coming back to Kento’s memory, bit by bit, it was, perhaps, a choice made to conceal your identity for your own safety.

“How is it that you’re awake and I wasn’t ‘til now?” Kento’s voice was hoarse, and he coughed. “Last I remember, I was the one carrying your unconscious body out of-”

He coughed yet again.

You walked away for a moment and returned with a cup of water.

“Drink this,” you said.

He took it with thanks. As he gulped it down, he recalled the last of what he could remember. 

He took a sword to the stomach to protect you. There was another explosion. The biggest of them all. Part of the ceiling collapsed on the man who stabbed him. The entire ballroom was becoming a sea of falling rubble and flames on a greater scale than before. Kento scooped up your unconscious body and ran, jumped; did whatever he had to do to get across the debris. He used all of his remaining strength to toss you out of the window first. With the ballroom falling apart second by second, he wasn’t certain if he’d have enough time to crawl out of the window and save his own life, but that didn’t matter. 

Your safety came first.

You came first.

He didn’t remember anything after getting you out of that ballroom. He was alive still, but-

“After our medics found you and patched you up, I decided to bring you home. Your mother and I spent the last two days taking care of you. I actually just finished washing your face and brushing your teeth.” You suddenly spoke, as if reading his thoughts. “It wasn’t out of kindness, really. Our hospitals are . . . it’s a nightmare. Thank you for saving me, Kento.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, holding on to the empty cup of water. His thumb tapped rapidly against the side of it, and he frowned. “That attack was a long time coming, wasn’t it?”

Your teary eyes locked with his. You gave him a sad, knowing smile. “Like I said, you’re great at putting the pieces together.”

It all made sense. 

After all, why now did the king insist on you having a personal knight? 

The king must have known that there was a group from another kingdom who wanted to get their hands on the Vulcania Princess, dead or alive. 

Kento rubbed his face out of pure exhaustion.

“Why host a ball when your life is in danger?” Kento questioned. “Greed. That’s it, right? The king couldn’t pass up the chance to receive praise and gifts and kick-start your engagement, even if it meant putting you at risk. What is he thinking?”

“It doesn’t matter. He’s dead.”

Kento allowed the silence to fester. During which, he grabbed ahold of your hand, stroking your soft skin with his rough thumb.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Don’t lie to me.” You mumbled, but despite your cold tone, you didn’t pull your hand away from him. “There’s no time to mourn. The kingdom is in shambles. We’re vulnerable. Weak. People are dead, from our kingdom and others. And now? Now I’m queen. How am I supposed to . . .”

There it was, the mourning you tried to swear off.

Tears fell from your eyes. Kento didn’t waste a second before gently moving the sleepy dragon to an empty spot on the bed before swinging his legs off the side, and ignoring the pain as he leaned up and pulled your chair closer to him. He wrapped his arms around you gently — aware of your potential wounds though he couldn’t see them right now — and he pulled you against his bare chest.

“It’s okay,” he said soothingly. “It’s okay.”

“Sorry. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t cry in front of anyone.” You pulled away from him, wiping the tears that fell from your right eye, and he stroked away the ones that fell from the left with his thumb.

As he did so, he couldn’t help but let his thumb hover over a deep, healing scratch on your cheek. 

“It’s okay to cry. You’re just a person.” 

“Am I?”

“Of course you are,” his brown eyes gazed into your sad eyes. “You like warm things. Warm drinks, warm weather, warm blankets, fireplaces, fire-breathing dragons . . . you take a walk through your garden when you need to clear your head. Though you’ve never held a sword or a shield, you don’t hesitate to protect others, and not just people who are important to you, but strangers as well, and all kinds of creatures. Your jokes are so awful, they’re funny. You bite your bottom lip when you are lost in thought, and if those thoughts are worrisome, you play with your necklace. You cut people off when they’re speaking, but you don’t do it out of malice, you’re just brilliant, and you already know what someone is going to say. You’re unintentionally ignorant. Quite ignorant. But you try your hardest to overcome it once something is brought to your attention. It was you who ended wars with a simple speech. Recently, you argued for an increase in pay for knights of all ranks, I’m certain of it. And yet, you didn’t tell me, because you don’t feel the need to brag about your good deeds either.” Kento’s thumb hovered over your bottom lip. He whispered, “Hm, maybe . . . maybe I’m wrong. Maybe you aren’t just a person, because I’m certain I’ve never met anyone else like you.”

Amidst the sadness, there was a shimmer of something else within your eyes. A little spark of hope.

“Is that really how you see me? I think . . . this is the first time someone has given me a compliment that has nothing to do with beauty. At least, most of that was a compliment, I think.” You gave a soft smile that stretched the scratch on your cheek. “Wait, did you fail to compliment my beauty because you no longer find me attractive? I couldn’t exactly blame you if that’s the reason.”

“You’re mesmerizing. Inside and out. Your wounds don’t change that. But don’t worry. I’m sure they’re mixing up the strongest healing elixir known to all just for you. Your wounds will exist only as a memory, just you wait.” 

That shimmer of hope within your eyes brightened. Kento wanted nothing more than for it to stay that way, but it couldn’t. Not when your life was still in danger. Not when there were people out there who wanted to hurt you.

Kento placed his hands on either side of his legs and started to push off his bed, but suddenly, your hands shot out, pushing against his thighs and seizing his movements.

“What are you doing?” You asked urgently.

“Trying to leave my bed, if you’ll let me.”

“Have you gone mad? You were stabbed. I won’t let you leave this bed until you’ve recovered fully. Try to leave again and I’ll . . . tell your mother . . . when she returns.”

Kento frowned. “Your life is in danger. I can’t just-”

“It’s not your duty to protect me anymore.”

That frown deepened, his brows furrowed in utter confusion. “What are you saying?” He asked.

You were silent for a moment, but when you spoke yet again, you couldn’t look him in the eye. You didn’t have the nerve. “I'm the ruling monarch now. I call the shots. I’ll pass a law to make it illegal for employers to discriminate against members of certain bloodlines that have decided to stray from the career path chosen by their people.” Your eyes fell on his bandaged abdomen. “In other words, you no longer have to serve as a knight. Go on and enjoy a different career of your choice. In the meantime, I’ll make sure your family is well fed. It’s the least I can do.” 

“No.”

You looked at him, eyebrows shooting up in pure shock. “I’m sorry?”

“I’m not leaving you. Not now,” Kento said.

“Kento, there’s no need. There are plenty of other knights who actually want to be knights. They can protect me just fine.”

“I don’t care. I’m not leaving your side.  I don’t mind dying for you-” 

“Damn it all, Kento, I said no. Look at your condition! Look!”

Your sudden shouting stunned him. Based on the way your tears fell, and your hand clenched and unclenched around nothing, it surprised you too. “That wound of yours is all my fault. I should have left when you told me to. I won’t allow something like this to happen again. I won’t have it.”

“Look at me.” His hand was once again on your face, but not stroking your cheek. This time, his long fingers gripped your chin, forcing you to stare into his eyes. “I won’t have you dying a preventable death because of incompetent knights while I waltz around my village baking bread or sharpening knives.”

“Is this an ego thing?” Do you think you’re the only knight strong enough to protect me?”

Though your question was a serious one, Kento couldn’t help but laugh a bit. “I understand everything about you down to which foot you step with first, but you don’t understand me at all.”

“What do you-”

It was sudden, but Kento was fed up with your lack of understanding. He released your chin, but only to snake his hand around your head and pull you close, closing the gap between you by crashing your lips together. The kiss was warm. Your lips were soft — so damn soft — and he couldn’t help but hold on to you even tighter, melting into the kiss because he needed more. Though his tongue rubbed against yours, though he was breathless, and though it hurt his injured stomach to do so, he still wanted more; one large hand hooked around your thigh, the other against your back, and he pulled you onto his lap.

Your hand pressed against his muscular, broad chest. He swallowed a soft moan that escaped your lips. 

“Kento,” you gave a little whimper.

“I know,” he whispered against your wet lips, the words barely leaving his own lips before he reconnected his mouth to yours. He pulled you against his mouth even harder, made you straddle his lap even tighter, and kissed you with lips and tongue even deeper.

When the kiss ended, Kento looked at your face, your skin softly illuminated by the flickering light from the candles scattered throughout his house. 

“Do you understand now?” He asked softly.

You nodded, then smiled. “I didn’t know that was coming, but I'm glad I brushed your teeth for you.” 

Kento couldn’t help but shake his head and laugh, pressing a kiss against your cheek.

Your fingers played with the blonde hair at the nape of his neck, and he pressed yet another kiss against your jaw, then your neck, all before pulling away.

“Tell me the truth. Do you love me?” He asked, his breath patting against the skin of your collarbone.

“I do, but if you have to ask, then you might not understand me as well as you think you do.” 

Kento pulled away from your neck, but when his eyes met yours, all he saw within your gaze was pure sadness. 

“But, Kento, Umarith finds itself in yet another war, and our enemies won’t give up until they have me-”

“Then let me kill them all for you.”

“Kento,” you frowned.

“Your Majesty,” he gave your chin a quick kiss, his large hand rubbing your thigh. “I mean it. I will save you. I just need you to let me.”

You bit your lip in thought. “Fine, but on one condition. No, two conditions.”

You leaned in; you were so close, he could feel your breath pat against his ear.

“I refuse to be a kindhearted damsel in distress once again. They want to capture or kill me, the Vulcania Princess- or I guess, queen now, because they think it’ll put an end to the brutal snowstorms killing their crops and their people, so I’ve been thinking, since they crave my warmth so badly . . . I should burn their kingdom to the ground. Allow me to fight by your side and do so.”

“And what’s your second condition, Your Majesty?” Kento whispered.

You pulled away from him, staring into his brown eyes. Your warm hands cupped the knight’s face.

“You drop the formalities like I’ve been asking you to,” you paused. “Unless, in due time, you allow me to call you my king.”

Kento couldn’t help but gaze at you with pure astonishment. It was the same look he had in his eyes when he first saw the enormous statue of you in his village. He should have put the pieces together then — that he was nothing more than someone else who worshipped you.

Kento’s lips found yours, once again letting his kisses speak for him. And this kiss told you several things: 

Kento Nanami wanted to hate you.

Truly, he did. He tried.

But in the end, he couldn’t stray from his bloodline’s only purpose to shed blood; to die in service of whomever sat on the throne, but this time around? A Nanami would survive, and Kento would become your cherished spouse and, when the time came, protect your offspring. 

Kento Nanami wanted to hate you, but now, the knight’s soul wanted nothing more than to love you, and kill for you.

♛ — What did you think? Please let me know! Reblogs & comments are appreciated!

♛ — @sad-darksoul @priv-rose @yihona-san06 @keriaonmarz @luvvmae @thequeenofcurses @underworldsheiress @notgoodforlife @thewondrousdreamer @levisfavoriteteashop @preciousamethyst @iwanttohitmyself @lil-apple-pie @prettypixigrl @averysmolbear @starstoru @starlightanyaaa @he11okitty-mari @dolphin1135 @ioveartfilm @filhadaanarquia @blackdxggr @jaegergirl @gunslxtz @he11okitty-mari @koikohib @http-bell

[tare-anime]

After posting the observation that both Loid and Yor were injured at the same arm, during a kind of simmilar arc, I have a further contemplation....

My... my ... both TwiYor actually has bleed for one another 😲😲

Like... both has actually enduring a bleeding wound for the other. 🥹🥹🥹

I mean, if we look again during the Mole Hunting arc, Loid was shot on his arm because he was hesitating in hurting Yuri, because Yuri IS important to Yor.

He hesitated to hurt other people. That has been his nature all along.

But actually, during this particular event, he hesitated because he care for Yor and her wellbeing.

Even though he didn't understand his actions, because Twilight is a man of logic -- and none of this feelings shenanigans can be logical in any form or way -- Twilight cannot understand why he acted that way.

Eventually, he relucantly connected the dots, and reluctantly admits that he unintentionally has made Yor as his weakness.

And as a man who will always -- and has to prioritize his logic, Loid then choose to "nip the problem in the bud" (or a thing similar to that).

But as we can see from several chapters after that, especially at chapter 94 (the snow lodge adventure) and chapter 103 (the watching belle adventure), we know that no matter how many logic he pour unto stopping this ridiculous illogical feelings (or so he thought), his body reacts the other way.

He can't help but listen, and relax whenever he is with Yor. He might be won't admit it out loud, but his body language shows how much he appreciates Yor being by his side.

But...... (I think) Loid will not act upon such thing.

Nope.

He prefer to keep things working the way it has been.

He prefer to maintain the status quo, because it's comfortable.

The logical question would be: Why would someone try to move things that have been working properly as it is, and overcomplicated things?

Now, Twilight might be not as extreme as Hemlock or Nightfall in embracing loneliness, but as Matthew has said, someone gain power from "have nothing to loose".

I think, Twilight has put himself in this category.

Yor, on the other hand, is different.

As a character, she is already different -- if not opposite of Twilight by design.

While Twilight will try his best not to hurt people (I say he might even try to push them away if it means they will be save), Yor will not hesitate to hurt those dare to hurt her few -- but very important people.

As we can see it from the early days of the series, Yor has been, and always will be this way.

She will act first (to help, to protect) and think of consequences (especially if it "only" endangered herself) later.

That is why, as seen from the Cruise arc, only when she has found her resolve-- her goal -- that Yor will fight back, and never hesitate in enduring several "unfatal" injuries if it means she can punch down her enemies, and at the end ensuring the safety of her most precious people.

The same happen when she was facing Hemlock.

But during this Garden Introduction arc, there's been something that has been bothering Yor.

Unlike Twilight who always think things through, Yor leans more to feel things.

She knows that there are somethings different in her heart right now.

Somethings that's not as "simple" as continuing her role as Anya's mother, or her role as the sharpest thorn Garden has ever had.

It is something more deep, more alien to her.

She wants something for herself.

Apparently this wants is not just a "status", or a "safe place to stay".

Maybe it's more deep than that.

We know it is acceptance that Yor has been wanting for so long. But it seems Yor herself cannot pin point what she actually wants.

As we can see from chapter 114 (the Briars day out), we can see (and assume) that Yor never act to fulfill her own wants. She will always put other's wants first, and never address her own.

This time however, it's different.

She wants to be accepted -- openly -- for who she is.

And for some reason (we know what the reason is 😏) Yor wants it to last forever -- if possible.

So, I guess, I agree with the discussion with several discord moots, that with Matthew's push, Yor will finally act to find out -- to hear and see it by herself -- to know where does she stand in the Forger family (or in Loid's heart) as a wife.

This will be a development of Yor questioning her role as a mother during chp 35.

Because, considering the danger nature of her job as an assassin, "hesitation will end up making everyone hurt".

And that is one thing that Yor will do in whatever power she has to prevent.

So, in different way than Twilight, this time, once again Yor will act and find out....

I also love the insight from other reviewers and moots, that said, this time -- for the first time -- Yor will once again push the balance (or status quo) of Loid and Yor's relationship.

She will be the one brave enough to knock on Loid's room door (or a metaphore of Loid's heart) -- a place so private -- so cold and calculative and full of logic -- to find out whether her feelings are true and can be reciprocate, or not.

And maybe depends on what Loid's answer will be, Yor will act accordingly.

Let just hope this bravery of Yor will have a happy result that she -- and by extension us the TwiYor shippers -- deserves 🥰🥰🥰

-------

TL;DR

While both Twilight/Loid and Yor has litterally bleed for one another, they act differently.

Loid by maintaining the status quo of their relationship

Yor by asking assurance of her question (uncertainties), by daring herself to knock / step into Loid's space.

[brain4stew]

PUPPETEER READER CRUMBS PLEAASSEEE ,,, ,,,,, like what would the forsaken killer cast do if the reader decides to be merciful and turn the round into a peaceful one then proceed to goof around

Interesting… I’ll see what I can do with your request for puppeteer reader, dear anon. 🙂‍↕️

(Note; Characters may be ooc, as I do not know how they’ll react, think or speak. I do not know their personalities, actions and behavior whatsoever!)

Killers reacting to Puppeteer reader going friendly, and making them do silly stuff!

(And what happens after the rounds!)

1x1x1x1 (1x4). ⚔️

The first time it happened they were arguably very confused. But, they thought you wanted to give the survivors false hope, so they just, went along with it.

However, when she sees your figure (avatar) goof around with the survivors, whilst she’s nearby, and can’t do anything?

Oh, he’s mad. (And a bit jealous. Though, don’t tell him I told you this!)

Why’d you make him go friendly? Do you like the survivors that much?

They’re glaring. Glaring at the survivors with pure hatred, especially Shedletsky. They think he did something to you.

Her glare does soften when it’s directed towards you however, but hardens when a survivor is nearby.

He gets practically forced into doing silly, and stupid things. Like, randomly attacking, just to see the survivors scramble a bit, and etc, etc. you get the gist.

So, when the rounds over, you (your avatar) is practically forced to stay within their room. Only to be let out a few minutes afterwards. They can’t stay too long away from you anyway, that’d break the helper and killer bond you two have.

(She’s just greedy when it comes to you.)

C00lkidd, Bluudud, Pr33typrincess, Mafioso. 🧱

They’re annoyed, sure. Especially C00lkidd and Mafioso.

Pr33typrincess is mostly annoyed because she’s not allowed to kill Two Time. (Fuckass nonbinary dagger person. /hj)

Bluudud doesn’t exactly care, even though he’d love to win each and every round.

Mafioso is annoyed because he cannot take care of those in debt. He does not fuck around when it comes to debt, which, is quite obvious with his occupation.

C00lkidd is annoyed because he can’t play tag and hide and seek with his father or the others! He just wants to have fun is all!!

Nonetheless, they all, especially the kids, enjoy the silly and stupid moments that happen. Mafioso, not so much, but he still likes the liveliness.

Mafioso is the one to be the most near you, just in case something happens to you. (He just likes being near you.)

The kids are well, being kids. They flock around 007n7 however, and of course, Elliot and Guest 1337.

C00lkidd actually once fell asleep by his father in one or a few rounds when it’s friendly.

Bluudud just, admiring Guest 1337.

Pr33typrincess just, playing dress up and all that with the others.

Mafioso kind of glaring at the survivors going near you. (He scared Noob on accident, poor guy.)

After rounds, it’s just a huge cuddle pile.

Basically; Mafioso behind you, as you lay against him, or on him. C00lkidd and Bluudud on either side of you and Mafioso, whilst Pr33typrincess is laying on you.

The kids end up falling asleep of course, since they had fun in the rounds and became drowsy afterwards.

Mafioso just giving you tips for future rounds, unless you decide to go friendly again, then he gives you random facts about him, his goons or bunnies and rabbits. Quietly of course, as to not wake the kids.

Jason. 🔪

He does not care if you go friendly or not.

If you go friendly, then he’s glad, you’re letting his mother rest for a bit!

As usual, he’s always quiet. The most he’ll say is just his usual; “Kill, kill” and “ma, ma”.

He doesn’t understand what you’re doing, but trusts you enough to just, make him go ftiendly.

Considering the silly stuff, you make Jason do gashing wound, just to get a survivor or two… Or more… Stuck in a wall.

The panic, and the struggle to get free from the walls makes you laugh, and it brings a faint small smile and laugh from Jason.

When the rounds are over, you will be helping Jason tend to his mother, to see if she still has energy to communicate with him when you’re not the one controlling him.

John Doe. 1️⃣0️⃣0️⃣1️⃣1️⃣

He’s a bit annoyed, but not too annoyed. At least it feels like you’re giving him a break, which he appreciates. Although his corruption is being a b***h to him still…

You practically force him to go around one of the survivors, trapping them in a trail of corruption.

You also force him to fling survivors with his spikes when the survivors are in a corner, or not.

You’ll laugh of course, but John Doe doesn’t understand what’s gotten you laughing. Nonetheless, he smiles faintly. (As if he’s not already smiling like crazy…)

After the rounds, you’ll end up tired, and dozed off. John Doe just, being near you, while you lean against him to rest.

He glares at any killer that tries to wake you up. It works for most of the killers… Just… Not Guest 666 or Noli. (Just a few zaps of corruption on those two, and they’ll back off!)

Noli. 👾

This prick does not understand what you’re doing, or thinking of. But hey, at least he can silently admire 007n7 when he’s in a round too with you both!

You make Noli scare the survivors time from time, which, earns a small laugh from him, and a huge laugh from you, as you both watch the survivors flinch, and practically spin.

You’re mostly just, staying by Noli, or 007n7 whenever you’re controlling Noli.

Noli’s a bit annoyed, but oh well! At least he gets to hear you laugh, and you make him laugh too! So… Win-win!

After the rounds, Noli will surprisingly be tired, and he’ll lay on or lean against you, occasionally yawning as he tells you about the voidstar he has. Before he eventually dozes off, and falls asleep.

You of course, just let him. You do occasionally poke him and the voidstar for fun, which earns a grumble of annoyance from him, before he goes quiet again.

Azure. 🪻

He’s glad that you made him go friendly. He doesn’t really want to kill any survivors. Sure, he’d hurt them a little at least, but not full on kill!

He does occasionally steal glances at Two Time, from time to time.

You do make them use their tendrils to just, pick up a survivor or two, and just juggle them. Which earns a snicker from the both of you.

Otherwise, you’d be near Azure for a long while. Not like you can go freely, as you need to stay near the one you’re controlling to understand what to do, and all that.

They do wrap a tendril around you however, whenever Two Time is nearby, or too close for their liking. They don’t want you to get stabbed like them after all.

After rounds, Azure will wrap his tendrils around you, like a blanket, which makes you drowsy, and fall asleep. (He slaps Noli and Guest 666 with one or two of his tendrils, just to get them to leave you alone while you sleep.)

Guest 666. 👹

This guy… Feels like a puppy at most times. But he’s quite annoyed that you decided to go friendly.

He does look at Noob for a while, before looking back at you again when Noob looks at him.

You make them fling the survivors from time to time. Earning a chuckle and a cackle from him, and laughter from you.

You stay by him, or, well, his tail is wrapped around you, and carrying you around with it.

After rounds, they’ll be cuddling you, almost wrapping themselves around you, as much as they can that is. Like a dog or a cat cuddling up or around their favorite thing, place or someone.

They end up falling asleep by then, especially if you’re petting their head, and scratching behind their horns. They enjoy it quite a lot, surprisingly.

[read-marx-and-lenin]

If you think I am learning about these things "solely from uncritical apologists", you are mistaken, and the works I linked to above do not shy away from discussing the issues you mention here. Losurdo's book explicitly states "The support given by [Stalin] to the foundation and consolidation of the Jewish State is at the same time a contribution given to the Nakbah, that is the national “catastrophe” for the Palestinian people, who for decades continue to languish in refugee camps and in the territories subjected to a ruthless military occupation and a rampant process of colonization." Szymanski's book as well states "the hysteria and the purges of 1948-53 seem to have been the outcome of a considerable over-estimation of the danger from pro-Western Jewish and Zionist forces in the Soviet Union. Many innocent Jews appeared to have suffered, although little permanent harm seems to have resulted either to individuals or to their careers. The Soviets were slow, however, in restoring the various Yiddish cultural institutions that were closed in the 1948-53 campaign, and, combined with the rapid undermining of Yiddish and Yiddish culture through urbanization, education and professionalization; this has meant that distinctive Jewish cultural life never regained the level of the pre-1948 period."

When I said that the anti-cosmopolitan campaign did not target Jews, I did not say that to mean that no Jewish people were unfairly treated. I said that to state the fact that the campaign was drawn on political and not ethnic or religious lines, and that people of all ethnic and religious backgrounds were found on both sides of the struggle. You cannot on the one hand condemn the Soviets for backing the Zionists in 1947 while on the other condemning the Soviets for combating Zionism by the latter half of 1948.

You mention the late publication of the Black Book, and yet you only mention Grossman, when the book in fact had two authors; Ehrenburg and Grossman. Ehrenburg was a famous and celebrated Soviet Jewish author, especially at the time. Ehrenburg was also a vocal anti-Zionist and supporter of Stalin. Is it unfortunate that this book was caught up in the political turmoil of the time, even as Gromyko was echoing its sentiment at the UN? Absolutely. But neither Ehrenburg nor Grossman were arrested or charged with any crime over it.

Genuine question, what did Stalin think of Zionism?

Stalin as an individual was never a fan of Zionism (or Jewish nationalism in general). For most of his political life, he spoke out against such ethnic and religious chauvinism, for example saying in 1913 in "Marxism and the National Question" on the question of whether or not the Jewish people constitute a nation that it is only religion that connects the disparate Jewish diaspora communities, asking "how can it be seriously maintained that petrified religious rites and fading psychological relics affect the 'destiny' of these Jews more powerfully than the living social, economic and cultural environment that surrounds them?" In addition, in Chapter 6 of the Foundations of Leninism, "On the National Question", Stalin stressed the importance of combating colonialism and promoting the national liberation of colonies as part of a broader anti-imperialist struggle.

Yet it is from this same opposition to chauvinism that led him to condemn at every turn antisemitism and hostility towards the Jewish people. As he stated quite clearly to the Jewish News Agency in 1931, "Anti-semitism is of advantage to the exploiters as a lightning conductor that deflects the blows aimed by the working people at capitalism. Anti-semitism is dangerous for the working people as being a false path that leads them off the right road and lands them in the jungle. Hence Communists, as consistent internationalists, cannot but be irreconcilable, sworn enemies of anti-semitism." In this vein of communistic opposition to antisemitism, upon the Nazi invasion of the Soviet Union in 1941, the Jewish Anti-Fascist Committee was founded in the Soviet Union in order to coordinate international support from Jewish communities abroad towards the Soviet war effort.

However, Stalin was neither a dictator nor an ideologue. His personal beliefs did not alone shape the policy of the Soviet Union, and he was often pragmatic in his dealings as a national leader. The Soviets, while initially advocating for a secular and multi-ethnic democracy in Palestine, ended up backing the partition of Palestine and the creation of Israel as a Jewish state. The Soviet representative at the UN, Andrei Gromyko, explicitly invoked the recent memory of the Holocaust in his defense for the Soviet decision, decades before the West would adopt the same rhetoric in defense of Israel (probably because such rhetoric had been associated with the communists at first.)

That said, I have not been able to find a single quote from Stalin in his own words expressing support for Israel or Zionism. While many sources make the mistake of identifying Soviet policy with Stalin's own thoughts and beliefs, whenever it comes to the question of Soviet support for Israel, it is always other members of the Soviet government who are quoted. I cannot say for certain that Stalin was not in agreement with the Soviet decision to back Israel at the UN, but I cannot say for certain he was, either.

Soviet friendliness towards Israel would not last for long. The Soviets had been convinced, due in no small part to the fervent efforts of Zionist diplomats both during and after the war, that Israel would be a neutral, even Soviet-leaning nation. The reality of the matter quickly asserted itself, as Israel almost immediately sought ties with Western powers upon independence, as well as conducting active propaganda campaigns trying to convince the Jewish citizens of the Eastern Bloc to emigrate. By 1948, the year following Israel's independence, the Soviet Union began efforts to combat Zionism as part of a broader campaign against "cosmopolitanism", or pro-Western and pro-imperialist sentiment. (It should be noted that while the anti-cosmopolitan campaign during this period has often been maligned as "antisemitic" by Western commentators, and while I will not claim there was no excess or intolerance involved, the campaign was not at all targeted towards Jews. Zionism, while widespread, was not a very popular political position among the Jewish members of the Eastern Bloc and the opposition against Zionism came just as much from Jewish communists as it did from non-Jewish communists.)

Relevant reading:

The Soviet Union and the Creation of the State of Israel, Gabriel Gorodetsky (a detailed look into the diplomatic efforts to achieve Soviet support for Israel, primarily from the Zionist perspective)

Stalin: The History and Critique of a Black Legend, Domenico Losurdo (while not focused on Israel, it provides more information on the Soviet perspective on the matter during the chapter addressing claims of Stalin's antisemitism. It does make the mistake of identifying Soviet policy with Stalin's own beliefs, however.)

Human Rights in the Soviet Union, Albert Szymanski (this and the previous book discuss in part the charges of antisemitism relating to the anti-cosmopolitan campaign)

[mapoeggplant]

skip to loafer chapter 72 analysis // spoilers

“who shall be the one to mend this lonely soul?”: the counterpoint and similarities between the dreamer and the desolate and how to move forward even with the feeling that there is nowhere to belong.

when i opened comic days, i confess that kanechika was the last person i was expecting to see. so much so that, thanks to this confusion, i first thought that the chapter would take a completely opposite direction to what i was expecting, which was the school play. but i soon understood what sensei was trying to do and the overlap she chose for this very important moment.

it’s not new for sensei to intersperse two stories into one in order to develop one character or the other (or both) a little more. this mix of elements brings more life and support to the narrative, since the character is able to open up more when faced with something that is opposite or complementary to them. and here i believe that sensei decided to combine the two forms and gave kanechika the role of being the opposite and, at the same time, the complement to shima.

kanechika has always had a huge passion for cinema and theater. this has been evident since the first time he showed his homemade movies to his insistence that shima join the theater club. but, something that hasn't been explored in depth yet is the loneliness that comes with this passion. not everyone around you will always grow up having the same interests as you or feeling them to the same intensity. sometimes, especially for a child, it’s much easier to ignore the “different boy” than to try to understand what this cinema that he likes so much is all about.

but, even though he felt alone and couldn't really fit in with people his own age, something inside kanechika encouraged him to keep going, to try, until he found people who shared his passion or came face to face with something he had brought to life, understanding that everything he had gone through had led him there. seeing shima blossom on stage not only brought him a sense of pride for the kouhai he held in such high regard, but also the idea that he was indeed on the right path and that there were people in the world who were able to listen to what he had to say and who were able to consume his art. 

this insistence on what he loved, even if it hurted you, is the opposite of shima. the realization that your tastes, desires and dreams are valid and that you have the right to feel them would be the complement. 

shima finally took the stage dressed as the monster he had always believed himself to be. and this becomes even more vivid considering the moments in the play that sensei thought were important to highlight, such as the monster's understanding of his loneliness, the forced isolation imposed on him and the understanding that the person closest to you, such as the one who raised you, will not always be responsible for curing the persistent pain of not belonging.

while kanechika sees his passion for theater shine with his own eyes, shima stands against the world. even though it is not him himself standing on stage, it is not his words but those of the monster, shima finally stands up to face everything that he swore was much greater than he could handle.

and, in contrast to everything, we have his own victor frankenstein waiting on the other side, with teary eyes and the fear of trying, once again, to connect with the monster. a mother drowning in the open wound sees, for the first time, her son blossom and live for himself, live for his ideals and passions, face his fears and move forward. her creation that she herself could not fix, the soul so sad.

however, next to her, there is someone who has the courage to say out loud what she so desperately wants: yuki does have the right to try one more time, to be honest with her son and listen to him with all her heart, to try not to rebuild something that is broken, but to forgive what cannot be undone and start over something that they can both build together, side by side, mother and son. she sees the child she raised forcing himself to be an adult from a very young age, giving him the chance to be young for the first time, to try to take control of what hurt him so much. why not try again, in a new play this time?

for the first time in years, they look into each other's eyes, completely raw, ready to face this new unknown. for the first time, she allows herself to praise her son, something she was so afraid of doing, with a great fear of putting an enormous pressure on his shoulders once again. and he allows himself to accept the hand that his mother extends, letting himself dive into this vulnerability that the monster gave him. not only that, but he also now shows a new interest in this family that was given to him, an enormous desire to belong, to be the older brother that his little brother admires so much, to be able to be someone who has frank conversations with his stepfather. shima and yuki are, for the first time, experiencing what could be a complete family. 

and in the midst of so many new beginnings, endings, goodbyes and new days to be lived, there is that one girl, who still waits for him in the same hallway, emanating the same light that welcomes him so much. letting himself be carried away by the feeling and embracing mitsumi once and for all is another step that shima takes in his favor, another step that he allows himself to take to finally be able to walk side by side with this person that he admires so much and finds so special. falling apart in her arms, not so that she can pick him up and rebuild him, but so that he can show her every little piece of himself.

the monster found not only someone who could mend his oh so lonely soul, but someone who would give him the strength to fight alone and for himself. mitsumi isn’t the saviour nor needs to be saved: she’s the light that guides him to find his own path and our courage. it was she who showed him how beautiful it is to be true to yourself and now that he has finally embodied this monster that haunts him so much, he can give himself the chance to walk side by side with her towards a new future.

how beautiful it is to be able to read such an incredible story about taking a chance on yourself and loving without regrets. we’re once again being able to experience another beautiful chapter and for that i’m so grateful.

before we go, can we also appreciate kanechika's shirt when he was a kid? he once wore a shirt with monsters on it only to later see a monster on stage. what a comeback, huh?

thank you so much for reading and sorry for any gramatical mistakes 💛! please support sensei if you can! we will be on break next month thanks to the release of vol 12. excited to see what comes next!!!!!

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

I Want You To Love Me [Joel x f!reader]

Sequel to I Touch Myself.

Read on Ao3

Ship: Joel Miller x you/f!reader (same age as Joel, no description, no y/n)

Tags/warnings: Female masturbation, p in v sex. Very soft, very cute, very hot.

Summary: Later on the evening of Joel's return, you finally get him into bed.

Words: 2,027

Among the many things Joel brought back from his excursion are books for the Jackson library. However, he always gives you the first pick before presenting his loot to the librarian. This time, you rejoice in a Jeanette Winterson you’ve never read, along with Joyce Carol Oates, and Toni Morrisson. Eager to start, you have an early night, retiring to bed with a precious book. Ellie’s playing music in her room, bent over sheets of paper when you open the door to say good night. She glances up from her drawings, wishing you a good night too, before returning to the task at hand. Joel is out, running his errands. When he returns, he takes a shower before showing up in the bedroom.

He has a towel around his waist, and you put down your book when he walks around the bed and sits down on his side, sighing heavily. His back is against you, and there’s a big bruise on the left side. You immediately move across the bed when you see it.

”What happened?” you ask, running your fingers lightly over the purple and yellow blotch.

”Horse spooked,” Joel mutters, tilting his head from left to right in order to stretch his neck. ”Pushed me into a branch.”

”It looks painful.”

”It’s not as bad as it looks, I promise.”

Joel rolls his shoulders, groaning. You move up right behind him, kiss his neck, then let your fingers gently pinch and prod at the knots in his muscles. All his worries and responsibilities always settle right there, making him stiff and slow. You sometimes catch him rubbing his shoulder in feeble attempts to alleviate the pain, but he won’t accept help. At least not until he’s all naked in more ways than one, too tired to keep his walls high. Tired enough to admit that he cannot do it all by himself.

He melts into your touch, grunting slightly whenever your hand works him too hard, but mostly, the sounds that come out of him are sighs of relief. When his broad shoulders are slumped, relaxed, you embrace him from behind and kiss his neck, hug him tightly to let him know just how much you missed him.

And he knows. He finds your hand on his chest and lifts it to his lips for a gentle kiss.

”You’re so good at that,” he murmurs. You have your ear pressed to his back, and hear the words rumble inside his ribs.

”I like doing it for you, that’s why I do it well.”

Joel hums, and kisses your hand again, before you carefully free it and drop it to his lap. Your other hand joins you there, and you begin to untie the towel around his waist.

”Are you very tired...?” you breathe into his ear before kissing it. A shiver runs through Joel’s wide frame, and you feel his skin prickle over.

”Not anymore.”

You open up the towel, and Joel turns his head to catch your lips with his. His hand comes on your thigh, you embrace him and let his tongue into your mouth. Your eyes fall close as you kiss him, as he kisses you. Your t-shirt gets discarded on the floor and when Joel gets into bed properly, you scoot up and lie down on your back. He pulls down your shorts and you reach for him, needing him close to you, skin to naked skin, but when he sees you naked before him, he sits back.

”Show me,” he tells you in a raspy voice.

”Show you what?”

”That song. I Touch Myself. Show me how you do it.”

You frown as you put it together. Oh.

”Joel, I’ve been getting myself off for weeks, I need you now.”

”I want to see how you do it.” He places his hand on your leg, runs it up your inner thigh, teasingly close to where you crave his touch. ”Please, baby?”

You sigh, frustrated, but the thought is tantalizing.

”Fine,” you roll your eyes, and Joel chuckles.

”Atta girl.” Joel smiles fondly at you as he repositions himself comfortably between your knees. You don’t break eye contact as you separate your legs and reach your right hand down. Letting your left hand play with your nipples absent-mindedly, you start to tease yourself.

”Can’t believe I have to do this myself,” you scoff critically.

”This is amazing,” Joel reassures you, patting your knee.

”You are such a guy.”

”And that’s a good thing, right?” His cheeky smile pulls the corners of your mouth up, as well.

”My cheesy guy.”

”Focus, darlin’.”

”I am.” Your deep sigh makes him chuckle, but he stops when you separate your legs more, and use your fingers to spread your labia, before dipping inside. Your eyes close, but you can hear him gulp. A low moan escapes you as you begin to relax.

”What are you thinking about?” Joel whispers.

”About you,” you murmur. ”How your body feels, pressed up against mine. You remember that time when my horse was injured? You sat me in front of you on our horse. And you were so warm behind me all the way to Jackson. So strong, so secure. Hard and soft.”

You open your eyes, and they flick down to his stiffening cock.

”Hard,” you repeat, licking your lips and sucking in air when your cunt throbs at the thought of being stretched open by that cock.

”Your hands, how they feel on me. How your hands can help, build, touch, and hurt.” Your back arches a little, your leg twitches.

”Hurt?” Joel questions you softly. You can’t help but smile.

”God help me, but I love you when you hurt people for hurting me. You protect me, Joel.”

He licks his lip and runs his hand through his unruly curls.

”I would do anything for you,” he vows, eyes trained on the apex of your thighs. You swirl your fingers around your clit almost lazily.

”I know, baby, and you have.” You did a fingertip inside you and draw out your arousal to circle your clit.

”Tell me more.” His voice is strangled and trembling slightly.

”Your lips, what it feels like to kiss them. How your mouth feels when you eat my pussy...” Your fingers speed up, your eyes press shut. ”God, Joel, I can just about feel your mouth on me, it feels so good.”

A loud bassline spreads from Ellie’s room to yours and vibrates under your skin. Under normal circumstances, Joel would yell out a request for lower volume, but now he says nothing. Whatever sounds you might make won’t be overheard by Ellie.

”And...?” It’s nothing but a plea, Joel wants to see you cum now.

”And I think about what it feels like when you fuck me,” you whine. ”Slow or fast, soft or hard, it doesn’t matter, I just miss your cock, baby, I miss having you inside me...!”

Your hand speeds up, your heels strain against the sheets when you bring yourself closer and closer to the edge. Joel breathes your name and even if his mouth is not anywhere near you, you can feel how hot his breath is. You force yourself to open your eyes and you see him, no longer jerking himself off but staring at you, mesmerized, hungry, fragile, in awe. He worships you without even touching you.

”I think about how you love me,” you gasp, and then you clamp your hand over your mouth to stifle the moan that threatens to rise high enough to travel through the wall. Your body shakes, your head tilts back and it’s like you hover an inch above the bed for a fleeting moment, right until Joel positions himself on top of you, notches his cock at your quivering cunt, and pushes in.

You choke at the welcome intrusion. Your legs wrap around him, urging him deeper, and when he kisses you, he drinks your moans as well. His beloved weight on top of you has been sorely missed, no one can ground you as Joel Miller can. He spears you again, not roughly, but definitely thoroughly. Your orgasm lingers, the muscle spasms making your pussy cling onto his cock, and you feel almost lightheaded. It’s strange how light the head can be when the body is weighed down so heavily.

”I do love you,” he whispers into your ear, his breath scorching. ”So much. And I missed you, I couldn’t wait to get back home to you.”

”I know,” you moan, barely able to get the words out. You’re so full of him, so perfectly trapped between him and the mattress, and there is nowhere else in the world you want to be.

”Feel so good,” he chokes, rocking into you so gently he’s barely moving at all. ”Can feel all of you.”

He kisses your cheek, your forehead, your other cheek, and then finally your mouth. You welcome the grating of his beard, run your fingers through his hair, let your whimpers settle into his mouth like sweet treats.

You notice vaguely that the music coming from Ellie’s room has changed, but you pay it no attention. The passing of time doesn’t matter, everything that matters is Joel’s warm body on top of yours, his cock moving slowly in you, his breathy kisses, the occasional creak from the bed. You don’t know how long it lasts, it could be all night, it could be minutes, Joel is in no hurry, until he is, until his breaths turn huffier and he moans out a curse. You press the palms of your hands on his flat buttocks, asking him with no words to go faster if he wants to, but he doesn’t, he wants to keep it slow, wants to keep going. When you kiss his neck, you taste salt, and his hairline is damp. Your middle-aged hips are beginning to tire but you don’t want him to stop, you’re willing to accept any discomfort as long as he doesn’t stop, but when he finally becomes more desperate, clutching onto you like he’s afraid he’ll lose you the moment he cums, you wrap yourself tightly around him.

“Cum,” you whisper into his ear, your voice thick and labored. “Cum, Joel, cum, you can cum, cum in me.”

His hips move erratically, he groans into your mouth, not kissing you anymore, just sharing your breath, and then his pelvis jerks forward, his head bends back, face all scrunched up before he hides it against your neck, panting loudly while you feel his cock fill you with hot spurts.

He stays on top of you long enough for your bodies to cool down and for him to slip out of you. When you finally nudge him to move off of you, it’s because you want to draw the covers over both of you. Joel rolls over to the side, arm draped over his face as he inhales deeply. The exhale comes as a loud sigh that reminds you of an old, sad dog going to sleep. You smile as you tuck both of you in before letting him pull you snug against his side. You rest your head on his shoulder, arm laid across his chest, leg thrown over his, glued to him, keeping him with you for as long as you can before both of you drift off.

“I missed this,” he murmurs. His voice rumbles in his chest under your arm, like thunder rolling beyond the mountains around Jackson.

“Just this?” you tease him, but he shakes his head.

“Not that, not just sex. This. Just being with you in bed. No responsibilities.”

He yawns. Your fingers draw an invisible circle on his chest.

“You’d perish if you didn’t have responsibilities.”

“Maybe. But sometimes it’s nice to just… be.”

“It is,” you nod, then yawn. Joel hugs you closer.

“Sleep. I’ll be here in the morning.”

“With no responsibilities…?” You angle your face up towards his for a kiss, one that he willingly administers. “Can I wake you early tomorrow?”

He smiles against your lips, knowing what you’re asking for.

“Not if I wake you first.”

[ashonheavenscloud]

p1harmony members when you don’t say “i love you” back

warnings: none!

a/n: requested! enjoy <3

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

☆ keeho:

do NOT pull this stunt on keeho. he will be so offended and flabbergasted and he’ll immediately call it out. he says it quite often but always waits for your response. sometimes he might even say “i love you” first just to hear you say it back. so when you don’t respond as usual, instead just pecking him and walking away, he has to take a few seconds to recover from his shock.

he calls out to you, “what was that?” “what was what?” “what do you mean what was what, you didn’t say it back!”

waits in hopes that you’ll say it back now that he’s pointed it out—and will bother you to say it. if you’re stubborn enough not to give in, he’ll roll his eyes. “i see how it is. it’s fine, don’t say it then.” will act petty until you apologize or finally say the words he’s looking for.

will probably pretend to hold a grudge for a while after. makes you promise not to do it again, even if it was just a prank. is overall very dramatic about the whole thing. “you’re gonna have to say you love me every hour today to make up for what you put me through.”

☆ theo:

when theo says i love you, he doesn’t take it lightly. as someone who typically saves such words for special or intimate occasions, having you practically ignore him baffles him. when he comes behind you cooking and softly says “i love you,” your lack of response throws him completely for a loop.

stands there blinking for a second, wondering if you are too focused on cooking (but you’re just stirring) or didn’t hear him (even though his mouth is right next to your ear). cue more confused blinking as he waits for a delayed “i love you” back and doesn’t get one.

eventually his curiosity and confusion get the better of him. “did you hear me?” when you nod, he just stares at you. and doesn’t stop, even when you laugh. “theo, what are you doing?” more staring. you’ve broken him.

when you finally explain the prank, he comes to life again, exasperated. “ya! it’s not funny!” despite his show of annoyance he’s smiling, relieved it was just a dumb joke. goes back to normal the second you say i love you, with a kiss for good measure. “that’s what i thought.”

☆ jiung:

when jiung mumbles “i love you” into your ear while you’re cuddling in bed in the morning, he doesn’t think too much about it at first. he never really expects you to say it in return, he mostly just says it because it’s what’s on his mind rather than for a reaction or response. however, when he repeats the words later when you’re saying goodnight, and you still don’t say it back, he begins to feel like something is off.

immediately jumps to worrying. is something wrong? are you upset with him? or just upset in general? this isn’t like you at all, especially not twice. he waits for a couple minutes in case you bring it up, but when you don’t, he gently approaches the subject.

“is everything okay?” “yeah, of course! why?” “i don’t know, you just didn’t say i love you back earlier, and then again right now…”

he looks so genuinely concerned for you that you drop the act quickly and tell him that it’s just a prank. his worry melts away and he groans dramatically. “seriously? i thought something was wrong!” feels a little ridiculous for falling for it, but is good natured and laughs at himself. with his concerns eased, he repeats his goodnight, smiling when you, at last, say “i love you” too.

☆ intak:

intak LOVES saying i love you and LOVES hearing it from you, too, it makes him so giddy. so he notices it immediately when you don’t say it back when he kisses you before leaving for work in the morning. spends the entire day thinking about it, replaying the moment and trying to understand why you didn’t say it back. is both dumbfounded and anxious. did he upset you? are you mad? cannot fathom why you wouldn’t say it back unless something is wrong.

his concern would quickly turn into feeling kind of hurt and bummed about it. when he gets home, it would be obvious that something was bothering him by his posture and distractedness. you can practically see the gears turning in his head as he ruminates, constantly glancing at you with those inquisitive puppy eyes as you eat dinner like nothing happened.

doesn’t know how to bring it up and just goes kind of quiet, mind still trying to work out what to do and how to figure this out. while washing dishes, he’ll gather up his courage and gently ask you if there’s anything wrong. when you tell him no, of course not, he’s even more confused and worried.

he wouldn’t catch on ever and would just continue to sadly mull over your lack of response in his head so you’d have to tell him yourself that it was a prank. when you do, he practically melts into a puddle with relief. “oh my god, i thought i did something wrong, but i couldn’t figure out what-” will be extra clingy and will demand lots of kisses and “i loves yous” to make him feel better after being stressed about it the whole day

☆ soul:

in my head, soul doesn’t verbally say “i love you” all that often, preferring to save the words for special occasions and intimate moments. so when you don’t say it back, he takes it personally. will literally stare at you, waiting for you say it back

when you walk away instead, he stands in spot for a few stunned moments before following you. and staring again. and if you move again, he trails behind you, eyes practically burning holes in your head while he waits for you to give him the response he’s looking for.

after shifting locations three or four times, you are forced to acknowledge him with a laugh. “what?” “you didn’t say it back.” “what?” “i love you. you didn’t say it back.”

when you shrug and go back to what you were doing, it dawns on him that you’re probably looking for a reaction by pulling a prank. decides to make every effort to put you through hell until you confess your sins LMAO will poke your arm, get all in your space, continually demand you say it back until you finally give in and say it. and then you’re immediately forgiven. he kisses your forehead and goes back to whatever he was doing before like nothing happened, smiling to himself that he beat you at your own game

☆ jongseob:

please don’t ever ever ever do this to jongseob he will be STRESSED. he’s very conscious of the words “i love you” and the weight behind them and makes a point to say them to you at least once a day. when you’re curled up in bed together doing your own things, he gently kisses your cheek and says it.

when you hum in response instead of saying it back, he immediately loses his ability to think of anything else for the rest of the day. will play it off as nothing because he rationalizes that it’s not really a big deal. internally, he’s overthinking like nobodys business. why didn’t you say it back? were you just not feeling it? distracted? upset? maybe you’ve just reached that point in your relationship where you don’t feel the need to say it back every time. but you’ve never done that. are you upset with him? spirals. literally zones out and spirals.

later, he’ll make it more intentional: “you know i love you, right?” when you nod, he frowns. “okay, i’m not overthinking this, right?”

when you tell him it’s a prank, he sighs with relief and a bit of fond exasperation. “i was so stressed...” honestly finds it funny now that he’s not stressed about it, but will be a little petty for the bit. eventually just rolls his eyes, and relents with a “c’mere,” kissing you and telling you not to do something like that again for the sake of his well being

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

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[hazard-haze]

Eddie and Volt headcanons (no player)

Soooooo

My brain has decided this shit is my new hyperifxation

And that these are my new comfort characters

But I heard that everyone was getting a hate ending with them and guess who got friendship with them first tryyyyyy! So uh, skill issue/j heres some headcanons for ya'll :)

-He doesn't do it often because he knows Eddie hates it, but Volt can 110% pick up Eddie and will abuse this power if he needs to

-Eddie is Volt's anger translator. It usually goes something like this:

Volt: "We are sorry you weren't satisfied with our service, but this is the best we can do and I'm going to have to ask you to leave now."

Eddie *passing by behind him*: "Pay your fucking tab and get out!"

-Volt cannot keep his hands still, he tries to play it off suave-ly (?) by just tapping his fingers and running his hand through his hair repeatedly but when he gets really excited or angry about something he will wave his hands with big, fast, eccentric gestures.

-Volt wears eyeliner, sometimes Eddie helps him put it on.

-Eddie is very talented at most things he does, fixing, building, mixing drinks (he can even do some tricks with shakers), and there's a plethora of odd things he's picked up throughout the years. However this makes him get pretty frustrated when things don't work out the first couple times he attempts something. While not the main reason, this is part of why he was so frustrated and irritable during most of his main plot. Volt sometimes has to remind him that it's okay to not have everything figured out immediately, or pull him from his work if he's starting to stress out or exhaust himself too much.

-On the topic of pulling Eddie from his work, that is a feat. Volt full well knows he can't just ask Eddie to take a break, usually he has to either ask him to do something easier as a favor, or blame the break on himself.

"Oh Eddie, I know your in the middle of something but could you wipe the bar down? I have no time before we open."

"Eddieeeee, I have no one to watch the new season of Cougar vs Cougar with! Would you take a break to and come watch it with me? Please! Just for a little bit! Just one episode!" (They got through like 2 1/2 before Eddie passed tf out)

-Oh yeah, Volt loves reality TV and Eddie pretends to not be at least a little invested.

-Eddie can draw. Volt cannot. Volt is very jealous of Eddie in this regard.

-Infodumpingggggggg. They infodump to one another without even realizing it, it is so much of how they communicate. They will ramble and bounce ideas off each other, mostly about the club but about other stuff too.

-On the flip side. They can also communicate by saying pretty much nothing, just through brief glances. I think it would partly be because they are literally split from the same thing but it's more in that way when you widen your eyes slightly at your bestie and that equates to like a full paragraph of text.

-Eddie is short af, Volt is tall af.

-Volt makes fun of Eddie for being short

-Like seriously ya know that audio that's like "I know we don't always see eye to eye" "that because your too short to do so"

-Eddie will get revenge. He can kick/punch really hard but he can also come up with some other very clever ways of revenge. Do not mess with the guy who has access to the tools.

-Neither of them really like just hard liquor. Volt likes sweeter drinks and Eddie likes quality craft beers. If either sees the other drinking something like scotch/whiskey they can usually assume somethings wrong.

-Volt has sooooo many ideas for the club, several of which are not exactly... possible. Eddie has to be the one to break the news to him that No Volt we can't break down the retaining wall of the bar and turn it into an inanimal fish tank. Why? Because without it the roof would collapse!

-Volt's love languages are physical touch and words of affirmation

-Eddie's love language is acts of service.

-Going deeper into that, Volt loves physical touch, as previously mentioned. Eddie however does not. But they make it work, Eddie can tell when Volt needs a hug or just to have someone next to him, Volt can tell when Eddie is getting overstimulated or just needs space.

-They both have their ears pierced. Volt did it for both of them.

-Eddie actually quite likes talking to people, I mean he's definitely tended the bar at some point, he just doesn't like talking to annoying people. He's sarcastic and his humor is a bit deadpan and he's more reserved, but he 100% can be very funny and hold conversations very well with patrons and even better with friends.

-That being said, bro does not chat while he works on maintenance. If anyone, including Volt, is working with him, he isn't saying shit unless its telling them what to do, or looking over their work. If someones lucky they get a "Good job."

-Neither have ever been a fan of the dark, but they especially would not be after the black out.

-They both hate silence, I mean they work in a night club, at this point it just feels unnatural.

-Kinda already mentioned this but Volt gets quiet angry and Eddie gets loud angry. If Volt goes silent, you know you fucked up. On the opposite end, it will sometimes be assumed that Eddie is mad because he's being quiet but that just how he is, if Eddie actually is properly yelling you know he's upset.

-Nerve damage babyyyyyy. It is all up Eddie's arms, contributes to why he's not super touchy because his arms get that awful pulling, itchy, pain when something touches them.

-Volt can get some nasty fatigue. The electricity fluctuates? Bro is immediately drained, head rush, migraine, the whole shabang.

-Not really headcanon but neither of them are good at admitting they need help or at accepting it when its offered.

-They both know each others triggers tho, and make sure to tell the other to rest when they need to. Neither take their own advice.

-Eddie hyperfocuses like crazy. If he sits down with his tools, something to fix and no one around he will not move from that spot for hours.

-Volt is always jumping from project to project, person to person, never slowing down. There's a lot to do in the breaker box and he is more than happy to juggle all of it.

-Both of them forget to sleep because of these facts. and eat (do they eat?). and talk to other things. and talk to each other. and-

-They would be cat people. Volt has definitely brought up getting an inanimal from Mateo but Eddie is always hesitant (even though he would 100% end up loving it to bits if they got one)

----

Ya'll I think I'm a loser. Instead of being out on a night off I am sitting in my bedroom writing headcanons about an actual breaker box in a dating sim that I'm not even attracted to, I just think their silly. What is my life T-T

[codeword-art]

I don't want this to come off as judgemental or like I'm personally attacking anyone that thinks differently about this specific scene, but I'm not going to lie and say I won't be a bit dramatic/harsh in these statements either. Ultimately I can sort of understand why some may think this is funny or humorous given similar jokes and scenes in other media, but to me personally, I don't. When Henry rescues Hans at Maleshov, and they're discussing the secret passageway and how Hans refuses to take it because of his claustrophobia, I don't think its funny to then physically assault Hans and drag him unconscious through the passageway anyway. Is it easier as a game mechanic, sure. If people are having a hard time getting through this quest the other way, I can understand simply making this option to just move on.

However, to me, that option is not acceptable under any other circumstance when RPing a good or neutral Henry. It'd be one thing if this scene was played humorously, like so many questlines in KCD and KCD2 are, but its not. If Henry presses Hans about not going through the passageway, he damn near has a panic attack, it's actually awful to watch. Hans is dead ass serious about his phobia, says the idea makes him nauseous, and he'd rather take his chances at the front gate. He is damn near close to crying here, while trying to make Henry understand. He is not doing well.

I understand this is frustrating, I'm not saying I wasn't frustrated at first either, from both a players and Henry's POV, but phobias are irrational fears that cannot be controlled, especially in 15th century Bohemia where therapy wasn't even a science yet. Hans has a good reason to be scared, he already was uncomfortable in tight spaces, and his fear was exacerbated during the "Finger of God" quest, and he hasn't really had any time to process what happened. He was immediately kidnapped and thrown into a tiny room with Brabant, of all people.

So to have Hans express this fear, lightly or seriously if pressed further by Henry, and then to think I'd immediately turn around and betray his trust and bodily autonomy to just make my quest objective easier, it's just gross to me. Hans is allowed to make that decision, no matter how annoying it is in the moment.

Also Henry is already weirdly written out of character here anyway, in my opinion. The non-romance options are just weird.

If it was the only choice to make, or if the second option had worse negative outcomes that'd be one thing, but it's just a little more sneaking around a subjectively easy area with light patrol.

Now again, I understand this is just my opinion. I don't think people are monsters for taking this option towards a fictional video game character. I know people like to play evil Henry, or depending on the conversation you have with Hans, some players may not even realize how serious Hans in being here, and surface level it's an objectively easier choice to make. If you're just trying to get through the quest, doing a speedrun, mistakenly misinterpret the scene, or whatever that's fine. We all play differently, I just don't think the choice itself overall is a funny, "Ha-ha, jokes on you Hans."

Also, I think this should lock Henry out of his romance. If I relayed a fear to a dear friend or partner and they actively force me through that fear, especially by choking me out? Yeah, were done. Relationship is over. Hans is far better than I am in that circumstance.

[vergess]

You've probably seen some folks fear-mongering about an "M.I.T. study" that was recently released "proving" that using LLMs causes "cognitive decline."

In fact, I can link you to the very study right now. It's DOI page:

And the study PDF itself, which you can reach by clicking the "view PDF" in the upper right of the DOI page.

So, this is a very scary study that uses a lot of advanced jargon from two fields with fairly little overlap. That makes it a hard read. Which wouldn't be an issue if it were going through peer review. However, it was published to an archival service; it is not a journal and it is not peer reviewed.

The first red flag we all need to consider is that this was not read by other specialized experts in cognition, machine learning, or the overlap between the two fields. It wasn't reviewed by anyone beyond a content moderator making sure it looks "appropriate and topical. Material that contains offensive language, non-scientific content, or is plagiarized may be removed."

So the number one thing to remember, as I critique this study, is that it has had no review. Which forces every reader to do their own review. Which is a problem when you're writing in specialized technical language from two rarely overlapping fields.

So now that we know there was no review and the only oversight came from the authors themselves, let's look at those authors.

Nataliya Kosmyna is a human/computer interfacing expert who specializes in neurotechnology. She is also extremely pro-AI. Make a note of that, it will be important later.

Eugene Hauptmann is an AI developer himself, with a "faith based" AI company he started to build a "technological singularity".

Ye Tong "Tina" Yuan graduated Wellesley last month (May 2025)! First off, congratulations to you, Tina. Well done on getting this much press attention as a fresh Bachelor!!!

Xiao-Hao "Harry" Liao is an expert in UX design. He is also pro-AI, and even develops his own LLM interfaces.

Ashly Vivian Beresnitzky has no other publications or significant online presence I was able to find.

Iris Braunstein is another AI developer and design expert.

The same is true of Pattie Maes.

Are we noticing a pattern here?

We have a lot of computer scientists--dazzlingly advanced experts--who love AI. We also have a stark absence of cognitive scientists of any sort.

This study was not authored by experts in cognition. It also did not use any standard forms of cognitive testing.

That's right! It turns out writing essays with electrodes on for 20 minutes once a month for 4 months isn't "cognitive testing."

Those electrodes measure how many signals different regions of your brain are sending, with relatively low precision. They do not and cannot measure how hard you are thinking or how well you are learning. That is not how that works.

They also graded the essays. Oh wait, no they didn't. An LLM graded the essays.

But they did do n-gram analysis on the essays too! That's where you look for common word groups of different lengths. In fact, n-grams are the underlying mathematics of LLMs! Which is why this batch of LLM scientists decided to use them. And worse, they used them exactly the way you would use them to test an LLM's functionality.

So, let me repeat that in different terms:

A bunch of computer scientists decided to run a cognition study, using only their familiar computer science methodologies, consulting no cognition testing experts, and without actually grading the fucking essays.

They then published their unreviewed gibberish to an archive, where the media picked it up, misread it, and misapplied it.

I say misapplied, because if you look at the selection of experts who wrote the paper, another pattern emerges from their past published works: they are making LLM software in direct competition with chatGPT.

This was an attack ad to try to drive AI loving consumers away from chatGPT and towards their own products.

And then people somehow misunderstood that and went ballistic about how interacting with AI is ~basically brain damage~. A thing the study was not even trying to prove in the first place, and in no way proved by accident either.

[xthexsanctuaryx]

I simply cannot live with This Man doing THAT.

😩😩😩

Let it be known that I have so much disdain for Hugo that I literally rushed through his WHINING to get to the love of my life, King John.

Honestly, it's so obvious Hugo is in love with Reader. But like fuck off dude. No one even likes you.

HOWEVER, Reader and me, are in love with the KING.

And within point 2 seconds of him appearing it is PAINFULLY clear that King is STUPIDLY in love with Reader.

Like, GOODness.

So soft and I just-- this man is literally ready and willing to give MC whatever she wants. Like damn he'd really just burn down the patriarchy just to see her smile, huh?

Uuuugggghhhh

I love this man, he is too good.

The way he's just in the heat of the moment -- that tried to autocorrect to HEART of the moment, and you know what? That fits too. ANYWAYS!

In the heat of the moment, he's ready to give her anything and everything, like he really just wants to give her the entire world. That's all he can think about.

And for that matter, in said heat of said moment, he has NO business being as soft as he is, okay? I am only one woman.

It's in this chapter that when he says, "your King." It starts to become less, "I'm the King and your one of my subjects and beneath me" and more, "I'm YOUR King. I belong to YOU and YOU ALONE."

Can you tell this is one of my favorite fics ever???

You are the ruler of the King John fanfiction world, Fen. You win. You own his ass.

👏🏻💕👏🏻💕👏🏻

Blue Blood and Rain [5]

King John X F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals • Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • buy me a coffee? •

Summary: You're the personal attendant to The Dowager Countess of Bowhale, who was visiting the court with her son.

You're invited to the King's bed chambers again.

Series Masterlist

A/N: I'll gesture vaguely.

Warnings: Kissing, oral sex (f!receiving), thigh fucking, pet names, reader is a virgin (but knows what sex is, overuse of italics, power dynamics because he's the king, pet names, I have totally made up servant/noble dynamics because I wanted to, not beta read, please let me know if I've missed a warning.

Word Count: 2353

“Honestly,” Hugo sighs and looks at you with his large eyes. “I am exhausted by all of it.” His shoulders are slumped as he leans against the wall, watching you as you organise his mother’s jewellery. Her Ladyship had asked you to lay out her things as she preferred, which was always a little bit of a guessing game, but you didn’t mind. 

You can tell Hugo wants you to press further, eager for your willing ear. 

“It must be difficult, but I know Lord Embersham’s daughter is very lovely.”

“Ugh,” he pokes out his bottom lip in a scowl. “Did my mother tell you to say that?” 

You laugh, “Of course not.” 

“You sound just like her.” 

“I am taking that as a compliment, Hugo.” You smile and he grins. 

“I know she is desperate to arrange a marriage for me, every conversation she has with me recently boils down to heirs and the continuation of the family line.” 

You give him a sympathetic smile. 

“I just don’t know Lady Bella Embersham,” he sighs again, crossing his arms. “I agree that she is fair, but surely I need to speak more than three words to her first.” 

“Maybe you could talk to her at the ball?” 

Hugo shrugs. “Perhaps…”

“Are you sulking now that you’ll have to stay vaguely presentable for a few hours instead of trying to drink your cousins under the table?” You tease, trying to lighten his mood.

He laughs, grinning. “Maybe a little.” 

“Well, maybe goad them into trying to see who can hold off the wine for the longest? A test of iron wills? And then you can speak to Lady Embersham and see if you two are suited.”

He nods, “You always know the best things to say, you know that?” 

You shake your head. “I’m just trying to save you from the misery of not knowing, your mother will not let up until you’ve spoken to her.” 

“She probably won’t even if I have.” 

You smile. “Maybe, but she might at least suggest other choices. She has your happiness at heart, if you truly do not gel well with Lord Embersham’s daughter, she will not force a marriage upon you. Even if she is eager for heirs.” 

Hugo nods. “A good plan…” He steps a little closer as you finish placing the jewellery. “And what about you? How have you been finding our stay at the castle.” 

You swallow, doing your very best to compose yourself. “Oh, it’s very grand, it has been interesting.”

Hugo chuckles. “I’m sorry you’ve been so caught up in the serving quarters, it must be dull.” 

“Oh, no.” You shake your head, warmth burning along your skin. All you can see in your mind’s eye is the King on his knees before you under the tree. “It’s been… eye-opening certainly.” 

.

“May I see you completely bare?” He asks softly with the smallest smile on his face. There’s a hint of cheekiness there, a tease. But you’re very sure he would respect, and honour, a ‘no’ if it fell from your lips. 

“Only if I can see you as well.” Your voice comes out a lot more certain than you are, but the King’s instant grin sets your nerves at ease and causes warmth to pool in your belly. 

“Of course you can.” He kisses you happily, pulling you flush against him. 

One of his personal servants had come to find you in the late afternoon and had asked you to take a book to the King’s private rooms. And while the servant hadn’t mentioned anything that could have even been considered as knowing what you were really being sent for, he did give you a small bow before he departed. Something you were more than unused to.

The King leads you to his bed, not that you truly notice until he finally pulls his lips from yours to kiss your neck. 

You help him to undress yourself, and while you thought his movements would be rushed and frantic with him staring at every inch of skin that was exposed; instead it is slow. Soft. He presses his lips to each part of you that’s unclothed, light and tender, his eyes barely parted as if he was more besotted in the feel of you than the sight. 

His hands are warm against you, his touch like the finest silk as he glides along your neck and traces over your collarbones. Slowly he drags the tips of his fingers lower, caressing the space between your breasts and down your stomach. He stops just shy of your belly button, moving upwards again to delicately cup your right breast. 

He squeezes softly, feeling the weight of it, his eyes glazed and lust blown. “Tell me to stop when you want me to.” He whispers, his voice thick. 

The King nips at your neck before he runs his lips down your chest, kissing tenderly at the side of your left breast, he nuzzles against you, pressing his face as close to your body as he can. His beard tickles slightly, but the sensation isn’t unwelcome. 

Without thinking you thread your fingers through his thick curls as far as you can without pulling, consciously urging him nearer to your front.

He groans deeply, moving under your guidance and wraps his warm lips around your nipple.

You gasp, arching your chest, about to tell him how wonderful it feels when he starts to lightly suck and you moan in surprise. Your fingers tighten in his hair as he hums and sucks rhythmically, flicking you with the tip of his tongue until your nipple pebbles. He pinches gently at your other breast, mirroring the movement of his mouth. 

You writhe under the gentle onslaught, part of you is sure that if he was moving harder, faster, you could almost cope with it. That the feeling would feel so strong that it would be oppressive, something you could fight against. 

But this, this is so gentle and thorough, pulling you apart piece by piece as you can do nothing but feel every tiny action, every gentle lick and suck and pinch that makes fire burn in your belly and wetness coat your thighs. 

“Your Highness,” You gasp, your voice weak, strained. 

He groans and pushes you back to sit on the edge of the bed before he settles on his knees between your thighs.  

He shakes off his jacket, leaving just his shirt underneath. Salvia shines on his chin and lips as he gazes up at you before he kisses your knee. He trails his lips higher, tracing imaginary patterns on your inner thigh. 

“You’re so beautiful.” He mutters, gazing up at you through his long lashes. 

Part of you wants to shy away from the praise, hide from his sweet words that seem to scorch the very heart of you. And it’s like he can sense it. 

“None of that,” he soothes, kissing your thigh softly and resting his cheek on your right leg. He taps your left lightly, “Keep them open for me?” His voice is low, strong, command laced in with the question. 

You nod as he looks at your face, his gaze piercing and blinding until he finally drifts his eyes downwards. 

“So pretty.” He mutters again, and this time you’re sure he’s mainly talking to himself. 

He lightly traces the outside of your folds with his forefinger, smiling softly as you gasp and jump under his touch. 

“So sensitive.” He inches higher and presses his thumb against your clit. 

You grab hold of the bedding, your muscles taunt as you fight the urge to buck your hips and squeeze your legs shut. 

“And wet.” He hums, running his fingers down through your folds, smearing your slick. “I bet you’re just aching, aren’t you?” 

Heat burns along your skin as his eyes flick up to look at your face once more. You bite your lip and nod hesitantly and he grins wolfishly. 

“Then more shame on me for being an imperfect host, and making you wait.” He whispers before he moves forward in a flash and sinks his tongue inside of you. 

You gasp, your legs instinctively trying to snap shut around his head, but he presses his hands to your thighs to keep you spread. 

He licks up, swirling and teasing your clit before sucking it into his mouth and you moan loudly. 

“Your Highness, please,” your words catch in your throat as pleasure drums along your veins, that built up throbbing ache exploding into a searing lust that leaves you blinded. 

He moans against you, sucking a licking before pushing you back, your shoulders hitting the mattress as he places more of his weight on top of you. Spreading you wider so he can drink deeper from your sex. 

You fall onto the bed, pinned by his strong arms and sob as he continues his onslaught, pushed higher and higher and higher with every swipe of his tongue. 

His beard scratches against your thighs, burning deliciously as he feasts. Your back aches, toes curling and you can’t stop yourself, can’t hold back for a second longer. 

You manage to whine his name in warning, but all that answers you is a deep groan of satisfaction that hurtles you over the edge.

You come hard against his mouth, sobbing out your release as you soak his beard. Your limbs tense and then turn inexplicably to jelly, hardly able to support your own weight. You slump back down onto the bed, suddenly very grateful that you’re lying down. 

“Fuck.” The King growls as he stands, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand to smear more of your come into his beard. 

He pulls his shirt off hastily, then his trousers, his cock bobbing free, eager and wanting. 

You gaze up at him, in awe of the sight. How the light catches and dances across his skin and the deep fire that burns behind his eyes. 

He carefully urges you further onto the bed, climbing in beside you. “Do not worry, my love.” He murmurs, his voice thick with arousal. “I’m not going to split you open.” He kisses your shoulder, helping to move you onto your side while he spoons you from behind. “Not that I wouldn’t relish the opportunity.” Lightly he bites at the nape of your neck and giggles when you flinch and wriggle. 

You buck back against him, pressing against his heavy cock with your backside. 

The groan he lets out is sinful, worthy of a year's amount of confessions alone. 

He kisses your neck, sucking at your pulse point to make you moan. The sound filtering into his mind and making him lightheaded. 

He cuddles you close while he spits onto his hand before smearing it all over his cock. “I’m going to fuck your thighs, my love. If you’ll consent?” 

You turn your head so that you can kiss him deeply, licking into his mouth and sighing when he immediately opens his lips to receive you. 

“Please,” you mutter, breaking the kiss for a moment. “I want you to feel good.” 

“Oh, I will, I will. I promise.” He murmurs. Gently he manoeuvres your body, pressing your legs together and instructing you to keep them as tightly closed as possible. 

He groans wantonly as he presses the hot tip of his cock to your legs, pushing through the tight seal you've made before easing back out and back in. 

You shiver at his sounds, the feel of his hand on your hip as he rocks you back to meet his shallow thrusts. 

His cock rubs against your pussy, pressing through your folds without slipping inside. Part of you wants to ache your back, to angle yourself so that he could just sink in. 

“My love,” He groans, snaking his hand down from your hip to rub at your clit. 

You moan, shivering as he coaxes you back into a heady bliss. 

“That’s it, that’s it, oh god.” He gasps, starting to move his hips faster. “Your voice, your face as you’re lost in pleasure makes me lose myself. I would give anything, everything to keep that look on you always.” He shudders, the sound of the slap, slap, slap of his skin against yours as his cock slides along your thighs punctuating every word. 

You whimper, fighting the urge to squirm and barely managing to keep your thighs pressed tight as he keeps stroking you. 

He moves his other hand to your cheek, turning your face so that he can capture your lips and groan into your mouth. 

You sob against him, sweat soaking your skin. Pleasure is making you giddy, making you forget how to function, how to breathe. The only option left is to chase it, to climb higher and higher. 

“Please,” you gasp, “please.”

“That’s it, my love, come again for me. Come for your King.” 

You moan, so tightly strung and ready to snap. “I want,” you swallow, gasping for air.

“Anything, my love, anything.” 

“I want you to show me how to put my mouth on you.” You whine as the words leave your lips as the King groans, his fingers on your clit faltering for the smallest second before he redoubles his efforts. His eyes roll back and you scream as you come, your body shaking from the pleasure. 

He thrusts twice, sliding his cock through the fresh slick that coats your thighs before he groans and comes himself. His spend spurts onto the bedding, splashing onto your thighs and stomach with force. 

He bucks slowly, riding out his high, his hand never stopping moving until you whimper in exhaustion. 

Your chests rise and fall in rhythm as you both recover. The King presses kisses to your cheek, your temple, sliding his hand from between your legs and to your stomach to smear his come into your skin.

“I promise I will show you next time, my love.” He whispers, nuzzling into your jaw and breathing deeply. “But, for now, I would like to rest a little with you in my arms.” 

Thank you for reading!

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[housemdork]

so. i know that fighting on the wilson defense squad is a little taboo around here...but i still want to share the germ of a thought that i've had, which i'll definitely expand on in the future.

does anyone hear me when i say that so much of wilson's work is silent and unseen?

i mean this, first, quite literally regarding his practice. it's a rarity, seeing wilson interact directly with his cancer patients without being called in for a consult. we hear about his patients all the time, just not often by name. but whether because we're in house's POV, or because the show aligns with house's belief that "cancer is boring," we don't see wilson practicing oncology that much in the grand scheme of things, even compared to the snippets of ER and surgery life that cameron and chase move on to, respectively.

house pokes fun at wilson's oncology all the time, and pretty definitively in 2x04 when he makes fun of medical specialists. to house, things are simpler for them; house views them as existing in a box, much smaller than his grand purview over things. wilson's work is relegated away from the main text of the show; he operates in isolation, which hurts in the long run.

wilson's own cancer experience is profoundly impacted by the pain of loss he's endured over the years, watching his patients die. he rattles off their names, their cancers, their ages, and the dates they died to house from memory. we never saw these patients. house probably never did, either, so we can only learn of this pain afterwards. we re-contextualize wilson's emotions and behavior after the fact.

finally, the work wilson puts into his friendship with house is often invisible. i won't ever paint wilson as the ideal friend - that would completely ruin any interpretation of his character - but i find it disingenuous to ignore the strain house puts on him, however self-inflicted. what starts out as trickles of jokes and subtle hints (the loans), evolves into the season 3 medical license debacle, which evolves into wilson's repeated responsibility for house's mental health (which isn't even mandated by house, but by those around wilson and house), which finally evolves into house attempting to control wilson's last wishes. repeatedly, wilson is nominated, especially by dr. nolan in season 6 and foreman in season 8, to be house's steward, and who else would do it, but him?

big example: we never see the decision for house to move into wilson's place, but all the energy in the world is put into wilson asking house to leave. it's first presented as a natural assumption, then a mortal sin.

unlike the other characters surrounding house, the origins of wilson and house are usually only hinted at. their history unfolds across the entire show, and that includes the good and the bad parts that are only heard about in passing and in retrospect. at the start of season 5, wilson, at his most honest, breaks the hardest news to house yet - that he's leaving PPTH because of him.

"i've enabled it for years. the games, the binges, the middle-of-the-night phone calls...if i've learned anything from amber, it's that i need to take care of myself."

again, we learn of this long-term pain afterwards, once house takes a beat to digest it. we re-contextualize wilson's emotions and behavior after the fact.

say what you like about what wilson asked house to do in 4x16 (it kills me, personally). i cannot completely fault wilson for telling house this ^. as much as house needs to change, wilson does, too. amber was right about that. we can gauge the strain that house has in his relationships based on how many work out long-term: one.

and later, funny as it is in the moment, wilson is the one to go to physically check in on house in 7x01 when it was VERY apparent that he should not have gone home alone (not to dismiss foreman's attempt in 6x22 to be there for him, though). house's fake voicemail message attests to this: "if this is wilson, i'm fine, not suicidal, not on drugs, coping very well with the loss of my last patient, so feel free to go about your day without worry."

i understand why he crawled through that window! after six seasons of this, i would have done the same!

i argue the same about house that i do about wilson - these 2, despite how messed up they are when it comes to human goodness and love - could not do what they do if they did not have the capacity to love. they're both rewarded in their own, twisted ways; house is gratified that, if nothing else, his brain sets him apart and preserves his sense of self, while wilson gets to feel loved in the way he can never quite fulfill elsewhere. does that cancel out the lives they save and soothe along the way?

all of this is to say that it's easy to brand wilson with a red "morally corrupt guy who pretends otherwise" stamp across his forehead because i think that's what house md tempts us to do by mandating how, when, and what we see of wilson's life. trust me - i'm trudging through season 2 right now and fast approaching his rendezvous with grace. but over time, i think the show invites us to treat him with sympathy and nuance in the same way it does house. if we penalize wilson too much for returning to house, and for needing his neediness, that may just imply that house doesn't deserve that sort of love. and we know that isn't the case.

isn't there more poetic irony than the oncologist getting cancer at hand? what about cancer as the silent-killer? what about cancer eating at every part of the body, slowly, over time? unseen and unheard?

[brain4stew]

HI im the one who requested puppeteer reade!!! and i want MORE

another kinda short one, idk im a pretty simple creature that likes the idea of puppeteer/controlling thingy characters doing whatever

still with the survivors and killers

puppeteer reader is lagging, basically acting really weird, walking in place, reacting slowly, kind of spinning around (whenever i play forsaken while lagging i spin around for some reason???) and then just suddenly leaving (disconnecting, but they don't gotta know that) for a bit

again, please take ur time with this request!! don't feel obligated to do it if you don't wanna!!!

THE AMOUNT OF LAG I HAVE AS WELL WHEN PLAYING BASICALLY ANYTHING IS INSANE… 💔

BUT YES!! I’LL SEE WHAT I CAN DO!! 💪🙂‍↕️

(Note; characters may be ooc, as I do not know how they’ll react, move and etc, etc!)

Survivors and killers with a laggy pupeteer reader!!

Chance. 🪙

He doesn’t notice anything at first, but when he randomly stops moving, and can’t move in rounds, he’s confused.

He turns to look at you, and sees you far away, he’s confused, before you randomly teleport to him, which he jumps at. Jesus.

He stares at you blankly for a while, before he sees you walking in place, before… Spinning? Why are you spinning??

He blinks in confusion for a while, before he suddenly dies?? THE KILLER WASNT EVEN NEARBY!!

He looks around for you frantically when in the lobby, looking for you, but you’re not there. You’re gone. Like you vanished.

Then you appear again, with a blue force field, almost like Dusekkar’s. He’s downright confused.

Builderman. 🔨

(headcanon that he knows we’re robloxians, aka real people, due to his status.)

He didn’t notice at first, but when he couldn’t move anymore, he immediately turned around to look at you.

For some reason… You’re spinning…

He’s confused, and was about to go towards you, when you suddenly stop, and walk on your spot, before teleporting near him.

He actually thiught you were using exploits or something, which is against roblox’s policy.

But he eventually figures out it’s due to lag, either your wifi, your ping, or device is bugging out.

He’s not too surprised when he ends up being killed by nothing. He does look around the lobby, not seeing you anywhere.

He assumes that you got kicked, or crashed, which, you did.

When you come back, you have the same force field to prevent taking damage. Which, he assumes you do not exactly need, unless the others (players) have something that can hurt you that is.

Shedletsky. 🍗

(headcanon that he knows we’re robloxians, aka real people, due to his status.)

*cough* fatahh… *cough*

ANYWAY. The same as Builderman, just that he doesn’t notice it, or remember it as well, due to him having to survive his own creation and etc, etc…

He’s arguably very confused why he can’t move, and just, stands there, hoping it’ll be gone after a while.

That is until he sees you teleport in front of him, and he actually flinches for once. But then he sees you walking in place, before spinning.

He’s confused, yeah. He does ask Builderman when he is nearby, about what’s happening.

To which Builderman just says “player”, before continuing with what he was doing. And THAT is when Shedletsky knows what is happening-

He died randomly.

He’s more confused, before looking around for you, not seeing you anywhere.

But when you came back, with a force field, that’s when he recognised that you either got kicked or something.

(It still spooked him a bit however..)

Guest 1337. 🪖

This guy is always on edge, no matter what. He can never let his guard down, unless he actually knows that everything is safe and secure around him.

So when he cannot move, he’s more on edge, and is looking around for the killer, just in case.

But what he sees actually? You walking in place, before teleporting a few times, then spinning…

He’s very confused, watching you for a while, before he suddenly dies for some reason.

He’s shocked and on edge from that unexpected death. He looks around frantically when in the lobby, before relaxing a bit.

He can’t see or find you, but he hopes that you’re safe. (You are ofc.)

So when he sees you again, with a blue force field that resembles Dusekkar’s, he’s relaxing more. Even if he’s still confused about what just happened.

Noob. 🥫 (pretend the can is bloxy cola…)

They don’t know what is happening, but they cannot move.

They assume it is due to their fear, so they try to calm down, but yeah… It’s not their fear.

They’re confused, before they spot you walking in place, before teleporting and spinning for some reason.

They watch for a while, before they suddenly die, and they’re back in the lobby.

They look over themselves in confusion and shock, before looking around for you. They don’t see you or find you anywhere.

They panic, before they see you again after a few seconds or minutes. You have the same force field that Dusekkar makes!

You’re safe now though, so that’s what matters for them!

Two Time. 🗡️

They don’t really care what’s happening.

They do get confused as to why they can’t move however. Did they forget to pray to the spawn?

No, they did before the round!

That is until they see you walking on the spot, before teleporting near them. They flinch of course, because it was unexpected. They then see you spin for a few seconds.

Until they’re suddenly back in the lobby.

…THEY DIDNT EVEN SEE THE KILLER NEARBY??? How did they die?!

They look around, trying to spot you, but they don’t.

Is this punishment from the spawn? Where’d you go?

Until they see you again, with a force field like Dusekkar’s. Oh! Perhaps the divine pumpkin helped you!

They’re glad, but also confused.

Elliot. 🍕

He doesn’t know what to think.

He does notice that he can’t move, which he’s confused about. But, he thinks it’s just his stress.

Then he sees you teleport, which causes him to flinch back. Then you’re walking on spot, before… Spinning? Woaw.

He is confused, but then he suddenly dies.

He’s back in the lobby with confusion, looking around for you, but he can’t find you.

Oh boy, where’d you go?

That is until he sees you again that is, with a force field, that looks like Dusekkar’s.

Well… At least you’re safe! (But not the other survivors…)

Taph. 💥

They’re there to assist, they were about to walk, but uhh… They can’t.

They tilt their head in confusion, and tries again.

Nothing.

He then looks around in confusion, before spotting you walking in place, before teleporting a few times, and spinning.

…Huh? 🤨

Then, he suddenly dies. To say that he’s shocked is an understatement. Holy.

They look around frantically, confused and nervous, what happened? How’d they die when the killer wasn’t nearby?

They look for you, but can’t find you.

So they wait where they are.

Until he sees you again, and he beams at the sight of you again!

He does notice the force field around you, but he thinks that Dusekkar was the one who helped you.

Dusekkar. 💨

(headcanon that he knows we’re robloxians, aka real people, due to his status.)

The pumpkin man.

He tries to float around, to see if he can assist the other survivors from a far.

But… He can’t. He’s confused, and tries again, and again… Before he gives up.

He spots Builderman nearby, and asks him. The response? A single, “Player”, before Builderman leaves.

Dusekkar is confused, before looking at you-

…Oh! So that’s why! Apparently you’re lagging. You’re walking in place, teleporting a few times and even spinning! No wonder-

…How did he die? The killer wasn’t even nearby.

He assumes it is due to you or something.

He looks around for you, but can’t find you.

So he waits.

Until he sees you once again. With a force field around you. Oh so that’s what happened… You got kicked or something… Makes sense now.

007n7. 🍔

(Headcanon that he knows we’re robloxian’s as well, aka real people, due to his previous “work”.)

He doesn’t understand much, he cannot move, nor can he use his gui.

He’s confused. Normally he’d be able to use his gui to teleport and all that… But, he can’t for some reason.

He sighs, and looks around, before spotting you walking in place.

…Oh, that’s why.

He watches as you teleport a few times, even spin a few times too.

Until, he dies randomly. The killer wasn’t nearby at all, yet he still died.

He blinks in confusion, before looking around for you. Lo and behold… You’re nowhere.

So, he waits. Checking his gui for a while, before he spots you again.

You have a force field around you, like Dusekkar’s shield.

Oh, so you disconnected or something! That explains it.

1x1x1x1. (1x4) ⚔️

(Headcanon that they know a little bit about us being robloxian’s, aka real people. Due to Shedletksy.)

They don’t know what is happening, but whatever it is. It is annoying them.

They’ve tried to move, and use their skills. But they can’t.

She growls in frustration and irritation, before glancing around.

That is when she sees you, walking in place, teleporting a few times, and… Spinning…

He thinks he knows what’s happening, but he’s unsure.

That is until he ends up… DEAD?!

She blinks in confusion and irritation. How. How could she die?! She has lots of health for crying out loud! And no stunner was nearby either to cause pain to her!

She looks around immediately with anger, trying to find and spot you, but you’re gone.

They huff, and stand where they are. They are not moving from their spot until they see you again.

And they do, they spot you beside them, with a.. Force field… It reminds them of that shield Dusekkar makes..

He eventually recognises it. So that’s why… He thinks it is due to lag, but he cannot be too sure.

John Doe. 1️⃣0️⃣0️⃣0️⃣1️⃣1️⃣

He’s quite irritated, when he knows he can’t move.

Hell, he can’t even use his skills.

Just what happened…

He glances around in irritation, before his eyes land on you.

You’re walking in place… before you suddenly teleport, and spin around for a while.

He watches of course, confused and slightly amused.

That is until he randomly dies that is. Oh boy, he’s mad.

No stunners were nearby either. He couldn’t have taken damage at all, yet he did. All his health. Depleted within a nanosecond… He has lots of health…

He looks around with a glare, trying to find and spot you, but he doesn’t. Only intensifying his anger and annoyance.

He waits of course, and sees you again, with a force field, which reminds him of Dusekkar’s…

Perhaps he should kill that pumpkin guy first next round.

C00lkidd, Bluudud, Pr33typrincess, Mafioso. 🧱

None of them knows what’s happening, and why they can’t move.

The ones who are most annoyed by this are C00lkidd, Mafioso and Bluudud.

Pr33typrincess doesn’t really care not moving.

But none of them can use their skills, which… Irritates them.

They do look around, before spotting you… Walking in place?

Mafioso thinks it is to trick the survivors, but oh he’s so wrong.

When you randomly teleport a few times, and spin around, they’re more confused.

Until they die.

Sure, they have low health and can be killed with coordination and all that… But… NONE of the stunners were mearby! So how did they die?!

They look around again, not spotting you anywhere. So, they wait. (The kids bickering with each other of course, while Mafioso is just… Well… Mafioso.)

They then see you again, with a force fueld around you. They’re confused, because they only know that Dusekkar can make such shield thing.

But they assume it is just a coincidence.

Noli. 👾

(Headcanon that he knows we’re robloxian’s as well, aka real people, due to his previous “work”.)

He can’t move.

He can’t use his skills… But he can look around…

What is happening?

He’s confused, of course, because, why can’t he move or use his skills? But he can look around?

He looks around, before spotting you walking in place, teleporting a few times and even spinning sometimes.

Ohhhh…. lag… His favorite friend… /hj

Then he suddenly dies.

He blinks in confusion and shock. He has high health, no? And the stunners weren’t even nearby…

So how…

He looks around for you, but you’re nowhere to be found. Oh boy…

He waits for you of course, checking his voidstar once in a while out of boredom.

Then, he sees you again, with a force field around you.

Ah, kick or disconnection… Gotcha…

Azure. 🪻

They don’t really mind what they are doing. Killing or not, they do not mind at all.

But when they cannot move, let alone use their skills, they’re a bit spooked.

They glance around, they check their tendrils. Their tendrils are fine, but why can’t they-

That’s when they see you randomly teleport, walking in place, spinning and all that.

They blink in confusion, and was about to move a hand towards you.

Before he somehow died.

…Does he not have lots of health? What happened?? No stunners were nearby. Not even Two Time was near him as far as he knows.

So how did…?

He looks around, looking for you. Before walking around the lobby, looking and searching for you.

But you’re nowhere. Well… That means he can take care of his garden for a bit until you come back right?

He waits for you whilst tending to his garden, before he sees a force field, reminding him of Dusekkar’s shield.

They stand up and go to look, and there they see you.

With a force field around you.

But hey, at least you’re okay, right? That’s what matters!

Guest 666. 👹

They don’t know what they’re doing and all that. What they know is that they like to chase.

So, when they cannot move? Or use their skills? Oh, they’re confused alright.

So what do they do? They were originally about to slam their fists against the ground, but then they saw you.

You? Of course you… Walking in place, teleporting and spinning.

Just what was happening and going on inside your head?

They watch for a while, before it goes dark, and they’re in the lobby again.

They blink in confusion and shock, before they look around frantically.

They walk and run around, searching for you. But you’re nowhere.

They then decide to lay down and take a small nap, where they were, when they came back to the lobby.

They’re then forced to slide a bit away after a while, by what? A force field.

They were originally about to whack it, but, they saw you in it.

You’re safe and alright! …NOW GET THIS FORCE FIELD AWAY! IT REMINDS THEM OF DUSEKKAR!! >:(

A/N: 1 more request to go, and I’ll open my request again, ONLY for talking. I am not writing for forsaken x reader after I’m done with the last request I have. Why? Due to the toxicity from anonymous people.

[sirensoul-min]

Hello! I would like to ask how pjms feel about the possibility of a new JM project with JK, music-related or otherwise. I wasn't in the fandom space during AYS?! to see the reaction, so I would like to know how the fandom deals with this. Because from what I've seen, JK's fans are already saying they won't support it, some even say they'll stop being his fans because of it. In my opinion, pjms are smarter and have an unconditional love for JM. Personally, I support everything that makes Jimin happy. He always gets very involved in all his projects, which gives me even more satisfaction to show my support.

subunits have happened before and is always a possibility within BTS. this topic was even mentioned during the minimoni album exchange, so it shouldn't really surprise us if it happens more often now.

jimin has already collaborated with jk on a few projects: their feature on lauv's song Who, song covers—which were more like gifts rather than for commercial success—and their latest, AYS?! i have supported jimin throughout these; both when i was still part of the army fandom, and during AYS?! when i had stepped away and was not jk's biggest fan (and i still am not).

AYS?! isn't perfect, but seeing jimin relaxing before MS was enough for me. now, judging by the sightings, it's almost confirmed that both of them are back at it with AYS and might even drop a theme song for the show. it doesn't surprise me. they both enjoyed the show and have already said they want more seasons, so it makes sense.

what i'm skeptical about is a potential song collab between them (outside of AYS?!) so soon, because although it's always a possibility, what we are getting so far are rumours without basis. for all we know jk probably doesn't need additional song, especially one with jimin, because his new ones are likely already written and ready to be sung, courtesy of the company. anything that jk would want to do would have to be approved by bang pd and scooter before it could come into fruition, so good luck with that. we're also clueless if jimin plans on making a single with jk in the near future.

regardless, if any of this turns out to be true, will i support them for jimin? yes.

jimin working with jk or other members doesn't completely repulse me because my appreciation for jimin outweighs any negative feeling i have for the others and their fans. jimin has a great bond with the members, and in no way will i and can i control that. i know my boundaries as a fan.

yes, jimin's solo works are my top priority, but i will always show up for his side projects/collabs. the difference would only be the level of support and energy that i'll give out depending on the project and on how much i think it would benefit him. (having reservations isn't always bad.)

obviously, i cannot speak for all pjms/jiminettes, but i trust that many of us are mature enough, in touch with reality, and would focus on our love for jimin. constructive criticism is okay, but straight-up hating and acting like a goddamn dictator is not.

i couldn't fully blame fans if they might prefer to protect their peace and would only wait for jimin's solo works. i get where they're coming from given all the challenges we've faced and could face again. however, i hope that they could at least reconsider or give any collabs a chance. it's not easy, but we can always support jimin without getting too caught up in any drama.

remember that ultimately, it's up to jimin. if he's happy doing something, who are we to get in the way? after all, when making a decision, he's probably focusing more on how it could make his fans happy and not the negative effects.

and if jjks won't support, that's on them—that's indicative of how far their support for their fave could go. many of them are unbearably shallow and hateful towards their own fave, so...🤷🏻‍♀️.

anyway, nothing is official yet, so let's contemplate and weigh things in the meantime. let's try to ease into the possibilities.

PS. i also touched on this topic (but about the group comeback) in this post. feel free to check it out. 👇