#this message is both those seething as well as those who are not seething; seething is not required in order to interact with this post

[khaire-traveler]

No one is entitled to know about your personal life, events, or similar. No one is entitled to you.

[lazyneonrabbitt]

Old friends, older lovers

Bucky Barnes x reader

John Walker reunites with an old friend of his while hunting down Zemo in Riga. He is very confused when he learns who she's visiting.

Learning that John was given the mantle of Captain America came as a shock to you, sitting besides Bucky who was seething with rage. After having been at Steve's side for decades you both didn't feel like a new Cap should be chosen so quickly after Sam had donated the shield.

It was barely a day later that the two of you found Sam who was in the middle of a job along with his new partner. You watched as Sam and Bucky bickered and fell into an argument, something about wizards and aliens or something. Luckily it settled and you were updated on their plans, staying sidelined while they went out in the field but meeting back up with them afterwards, wherever they may find themselves.

You learned they were going after a group called the Flag Smashers. You ended up staying back with Joaquin, who, eventually also had to leave for field research and you were left alone.

That was, until your phone dinged on the second day of being alone and a message from Bucky popped up. It started with a phone number and a name along with a brief update of their mission plans. You had barely saved the number to your phone when a notification popped up coming from said number.

[Hello, This is Helmut Zemo. James gave me your number so we could arrange your travels to my safehouse.] After the initial text a bunch of photos with tickets, reservations and flight details popped up.

It seemed everything was ready for you to grab a bag and leave, but you did feel the need to double check everything with Bucky, giving him a call and praying he wasn't too busy.

'Hey Peach, I guess Zemo sent you all your info?'

You nodded against the phone at your ear. "Yeah he did, I just wanted to check with you before I hopped on a plane to a random country in Europe." You gave him the details from the photos and heard him hum along from the other end of the call.

'Yeah that's all matching up. I know it's quick but I can't wait to see you there.' In thr distance you could hear Sam's voice yelling at Bucky to hurry up and you quickly said your goodbyes before he hung up.

It didn't take long before you were in the destination town and opted to walk instead of take a cab to the location you had been sent. It wasn't too far and you only had one bag with you which had wheels so dragging it along wasn't a concern either. Besides, you loved sightseeing and the town was absolutely gorgeous.

Your decision to walk proved to a good one when you rounded a corner and ran straight into the back of none other than Captain America himself.

"Oh my god I'm sorry!" You quickly apologised before looking up and seeing the familiar face of John Walker.

"Hey! What brings you here?" John was all smiles, a hand on your shoulder to keep your balance. "We were about to grab something to eat, wanna join? Feels like we haven't seen each other in ages."

You happily agreed with food and a chat, joining John and Lemar down the street to a kind vendor who excitedly shared his love for Captain America and how he felt honored to make his food.

"So, what brings you here, so far from home?" You, John and Lemar sat around a small table near the food truck, enjoying simple but fantastic meat sandwiches.

You swallowed your bite before explaining your reason for visit. "I'm here to visit my boyfriend! Decided to do some sightseeing on thr way to his place and, well," you gestured at the two men sitting with you. "now I'm here, seeing my old friends that recsntly went from regular heroes to superheroes."

Lemar quickly humbled John and himself. "Hey now, we're still those same two human soldiers you met all those years ago." John nodded along with a mouthful of food. "We just have different official titles now."

John kept up the nodding as he finished another bite, but he couldn't let his curiosity slide. "So, tell me about that boyfriend. He live closeby?"

"Oh, no he lives in the states. We're staying at a coworker's place I guess." You guessed indeed, unsure who Zemo was in relation to Bucky. "He's here for work and wanted me to visit during their downtime. I'm lucky they're in such a pretty town, there's history around every corner."

With your food all finished you kindly returned the serving tray to the vendor and left him a generous tip as you thanked him for the delicious food once more.

"Where are you heading?" John's ever enthusiastic voice sounded behind you after you grabbed your bag, ready to move out.

Turns out you were heading into the same direction and decided to walk together until either of you had to take a different turn. Except that turn didn't happen all too soon, so when your paths split it was only because Lemar got an important phonecall the boys had to answer and stayed behind as you went on.

It only took a few more turns for you to arrive at the address and walk through the large double doors at the top of the steps.

The building was old. Thst much was clear from the outside already, but the inside was on a whole different level with its intricate tilework and colored windows. You were so lost in all the beautiful detaila from the painted tile floor to the pillars reaching up to the ceiling with an equal amount of painted details that you hadn't noticed the man on the couch.

"Ah, you must be James' partner." The sudden voice had you spin around so fast you were surprised you didn't give yourself whiplash. Clutching your chest you stared at the man, wide eyes oposite kind brown ones. "My apologies, I did not mean to scare you."

You followed the man as he stood and strode towards the bar at the other end of the room. "I take it you like my humble vacation home? Please, let me get you a drink, dear."

You were sat at the bar with a fruity drink in hand as you laughed with who you quickly learned was Helmut Zemo, the one who had arranged and paid for your travels. You learned a lot in the short time you talked. Zemo loved his drinks, and sweets. He had stashes all around the place.

Your glas was almost empty when behind you the large door opened and the sound of men arguing filled the once peacefull room.

"You are so out of line, Walker."

"We made it clear he's gonna be handed over to the Wakandans the second we're done here. You knew this!"

"No, you broke a criminal out of prison. Zemo is coming back with us. Now."

Sam, Bucky and John stomped into the place with Lemar trailing behind, not even trying to get a word in on the discussion at hand.

"Wait." The soft thud of your glass hitting the bar top rung through the room. "Criminal? Zemo? What?" Your eyes darted between the man behind the counter to the men still near the entrance, paused in their steps at the sight of you.

Zemo, for once, stayed quiet. Much to everyone else's annoyance, so Sam spoke up and stepped forward.

"Long story short, your boyfriend broke Zemo out of prison because he knows everything there is about the old Winter Soldier sfuff and has crazy connections."

"Sorry for not telling you the whole truth, sweetheart." Bucky finally stepped past Sam to meet you at the bar, his hands snaking around your waist and pressing a soft kiss to your temple. "You're not mad, right?" He stepped back to look you in the eyes. Relief washing over him when you only smiled and shook your head.

All the while you and Bucky talked, on the other end of the room stood John, frozen in place with only his eyes ever so slightly moving to look between you and Bucky.

"Hello? Earth to Walker. John?" Sam waved a hand in front of the current Cap's face who only then blinked and found himself back on earth.

"Bucky? You said you were here to visit your boyfriend. At his friend's place." He had his shielded arm raised and pointing. "That," Pointing at Bucky beside you. "is a century old ex-assassin. And that," moving his hand towards Zemo behind the bar. "is not his friend." John was all

Exaggerated motions and exclaimations as he tried to wrap his head around it all.

"How long, since when? This guy was an assassin, then disappeared to god knows where in nowhere-Europe and immediately after that got shipped off to Wakanda. He's been back in the states for, what? A few months and those have been packed with court meetings and therapy." Your old friend's impatient nature showed with how he could barely finish one sentence before starting another already, desperate for answers.

"Since our.. early twenties, if I remember correctly." You looked towards Bucky for confirmation and you could see him dig for the details of said times. "Yeah, I believe you just turned twenty at the time. Promised you a gift so we went out to that book thing with Stevie." There was fondness in Bucky's recollection of the memory of your lives before the two of you were forced to take a break from your relationship.

The gears turning in John's head were amusing Sam to the point of laughing out loud and needed to sit down before he fell over.

"And you're still gorgeous, peachy lady! Best looking one-hundred and five year-old woman I've ever met." Sam's ever so supportive self decided to make an appearance, knowing it always left you in a weird headspace when your real age was mentioned. It was rhe sole reason John and Lemar didn't already know, seeing they were your friends during the times you couldn't spend with Bucky.

"So when we-- you were, what? Ninety-something years old?" While John kept his shocked expression, Lemar had quickly formulated a list of things that suddenly made sense in his head.

"You know, it suddenly makes sense why your cooking reminded me of staying at my grandparents' place." His nods were of approval and understanding and you made sure to give him a thankful nod in return.

Bucky's brows raised at John's text. "When you.. what, exactly? How do you know eachother, peach?"

"Oh god, Bucky! No. No absolutely not. We met because we had mutual friends and we'd hang out when they weren't out on missions." His look was still skeptical.

"For fuck's sake, Bucky. I faked being married to you for years, remember?"

"Oh yeah," John finally regained the ability to speak once more. "She made it very clear thst she was taken, to thr point of everyone dying to meet the guy who conveniently never had time when she hung out with the group. I now see why."

Zemo was the one to really continue the conversation from that point on, having all kinds of questions about certain points in time everyone knew through news and history books, but it was all cut short when the Dora Milaje stormed in, demanding to take Zemo away, which was quickly interrupted by John's ego and turned into a fight.

A gentle hand on your shoulder and a sign to be quiet later you were slowly led into the bathroom of Zemo's home and down a sewer cover down into safety.

With a quick text to let Bucky know where you were waiting for him you sat down at the small coffee place teo blocks down and ordered a pastry and a drink.

This was going to be one interesting vacation..

[mvrkieboo]

queen you know ily but i still want y/n to be bitter and resentful pleeeeaaaaase

One moment you were texting with Kyungsoo, the next you were lying on the floor of the apartment you shared with Yoonsu, ears ringing from how hard he had hit you on the side of your head from behind. You saw his feet appear in front of your face, then he pulled your head up by your hair, making you wince.

Shit. You didn't even hear him coming. He caught you red-handed, then—like you gave a fuck. The blackmail was gone now, there was nothing he could use to threaten you anymore.

He scrolled on your secret phone, reading the messages you exchanged with Detective Do.

"Wow, you're one disloyal bitch. You've been talking to another man behind my back." Yoonsu seethed, letting your hair go.

Your head dropped to the floor, and you could finally move freely again. As you struggled to get your bearings (why the fuck did he hit so hard this time?), Yoonsu sent a reply to Kyungsoo's text and threw the phone out of the window.

You were trying to crawl away from where he was, your head spinning too wildly to let yourself stand back up, making him scoff at the pathetic sight. He followed you closely, actually curious to where you were heading.

You were heading to the kitchen, it seemed.

"Good for you for getting rid of the blackmail, Y/N, but you do know what this means, right?" He sounded off—talking to you like you were an audience member of his own live TV show.

When you could finally stand up again, getting to your knees as you began to stand on your feet, he kicked you in the stomach. Cheap shots and low blows—Cha Yoonsu, how he has fallen so far from his fearsome status. Pathetic and cowardly was all that remained of the man who had been subjugating you through blackmail.

You had to laugh at it—how could you not? Never mind the stabbing pains in your stomach as you gurgled in laughter while writhing in pain on your back.

"Fuck—do you remember when people used to fear you, Yoonsu?" You giggled out.

That earned you a kick to your arm.

"Are you gonna talk about how much of a coward I'm now? Wanna talk about how I have no dignity left?" He hissed, crouching down next to you.

He watched you closely as you sat up.

"You know how to read minds now?" You bit out and that earned you a punch to the face.

He didn't give you a chance to recover, pulling your hair up so your face could face his. He was beyond angry, you could clearly see that, but he had always been angry. This time, he was being reckless with his anger, explosive instead of simmering. You held your cheek, the warmth of your hand easing the pain.

"Well, maybe I am a coward now, but so are you. You have always been a coward, Y/N. Sure, I pushed you to isolate yourself from your people, but it was you who still did it anyway—all because you didn't want those slutty pictures of you to spread. And you wanna make me believe you pushed them away because you were being selfless? Didn't want them to get involved in our mess? No! You were being selfish, Y/N, so stop deluding yourself that you're anything but." He tugged on your hair so your face was pulled closer to his.

Your spunky behavior from just a moment before was wiped out of you. No more gutsy comebacks, no more smart quips. No more being a smartass. When fear surfaced in your eyes, Yoonsu didn't dare to delude himself that you were getting afraid of him—he knew it was actually you fearing what was coming out his mouth.

Because both of you were taking what he was saying as the truth.

"If only you were actually brave enough in confronting your past, accept that it happened to you—but you didn't want to. You wanted to live in a fantasy land where none of it even happened in the first place, all the while whining 'You don't know what I've been through! I don't deserve this! Wah! You hurt my feelings! You don't know that the things you said just hurt me!'—GOD! Those guys were saints for putting up with you." He laughed, patting your cheek.

"You're so selfish, you fled Gangnam after that botched operation to arrest me—because you couldn't stand facing Detective Kim anymore when everyone knew that Junyoung got killed because of you. Because that idiot cared too much for a selfish, cowardly girl like you. He's probably rolling in his grave at your school's abandoned plant nursery, Y/N, because you ABANDONED HIM." You shrieked when Yoonsu began to yell at you, and it annoyed him so much, he slapped you.

"I did your brother a favor for making you isolate yourself from him. He's better off without you. A rising star like him would be better off without a dead weight. I did everyone in your life a great favor. Since you love them so much, you should be grateful to me, you selfish bitch."

He threw your head to the ground, watching you break down in tears. Since you were already in the kitchen, he headed to the counters and took out a knife.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Kyungsoo pressed on the gas, knowing the way to the apartment you shared with Yoonsu like the back of his hand—he's been prowling around the apartment for days now, of course he'd know. He cut off a Ford F150, tuning out the honk directed at him.

"Detective Do!" Taeyong let out, and Kyungsoo pressed on the gas more.

"We're running out of time, Taeyong!"

Geonwoo held his breath when a car suddenly cut him from his right, while Woojin let out a string of curses that would have his own mother petrified if she heard it. Mark and Yuno held on their seatbelts, shocked when the car almost did a break check.

"You both okay?" Woojin asked with a firm tone, Geonwoo still focusing on the road.

"Y-Yeah. What was the guy's problem?" Mark choked out.

"Who fucking knows—but don't mind it too much. We have a big celebration tonight. We're almost there anyway."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

You stared at Yoonsu bleeding out right before you, as you pressed on your own stab wound. It all happened so fast, and you wanted to yell at him, ask him why he so suddenly stabbed himself in the throat after stabbing you in the stomach.

But to watch Yoonsu bleed out while wearing Junyoung's face was a stuff of your nightmares, and Yoonsu was staring straight at you until the light in his eyes was finally snuffed out.

It felt like you were watching Junyoung himself dying in front of you.

You crawled over to his body, taking out his phone. You stared at it for a while, your hands shaking from the shock of the pain. With the amount of blood you were losing—was it gonna make a difference if you called 119 now?

Were you going to die this way?

You dialed Yuno's number, devastated when he didn't pick up after you tried three more times. So you gritted your teeth and started to put in Mark's number instead.

If you were going to die, you at least wanted to talk with your loved ones before you...go. You put the phone to your ear, tears dripping down your face, like the blood that dripped down your wound.

"Listen, Jaehyun's gonna sue you if you—" You hear Mark's heated voice, and you realise that since you were calling him using Yoonsu's phone, it was an unknown number to them. They probably assumed you were one of Jaehyun's stalkers.

"Minhyung." You slurred out.

Mark on the other end of the line froze in his steps, standing stupidly near the truck as the others were already entering the café. He pulled the phone away, but it still displayed the unknown number. Why were you calling through an unknown number? He then realised you had called him 'Minhyung' instead of 'Mark'.

"Y/N, why are you calling through this number?" Mark sighed, pinching on his temples.

"Can't find my phone. Is Yuno with you?" You slurred on your words, staring out the windows, feeling weaker by the moment. It made it sound like you were drunk, and Mark seethed at your inebriated state.

"Are you drunk? At 7 PM? Seriously?"

"Please just give the phone to Yuno, I—"

"No. If you really want to talk to him, you'd come here. No one's gonna lock you and your Junyoung out the doors, Y/N. Just show up, for fuck's sake." Mark held himself back from raising his voice, and that's when he noticed Haechan was beckoning for him to get inside the café already through the windows.

Mark held up a hand, then pointed at the phone, mouthing your name. Haechan rolled his eyes when he understood Mark was on call with you, and left him alone.

"I can't come, Minhyung, but I...I still want to congratulate him. Just please—"

"No, I don't wanna do that, Y/N! Jaehyun wants you to show up, not hear you drunkenly give out a half-assed congratulations through the phone. You'd just make him sad at his own party. If that's all, goodbye."

He dropped the call, turning off his phone and shoving it into his pocket before getting into the café.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Kyungsoo kicked on the door, but it didn't budge, so he rammed at it instead. It resulted in him falling into the apartment face first, but he got to brace the fall with his knees and hands—so he didn't faceplant into the floor this time, thank you very much. When he raised his head, he saw the blood trail in the kitchen area.

Taeyong saw it from the front entrance and he beat his partner to it as he raced into the kitchen. He felt his breath getting stuck in his throat when he saw the two bodies on the tiled kitchen floor, blood everywhere. He went straight to you while Kyungsoo from behind him went to Yoonsu as Taeyong was already checking for your pulse.

Taeyong felt your pulses, it was there, but it was weak. He took out his walkie talkie and immediately called for the ambulance.

As you were getting wheeled into the ambulance with Kyungsoo by your side, Taeyong got into the car, determined that he would be the one to inform the people you wrote out in your list. He opened his jacket, and—the list wasn't there. Feeling himself panic, he began to search the whole car, as Kyungsoo was already getting into the ambulance.

The list was gone.

The list was gone.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

You woke up to the sound of the heart monitor beeping, and you turned your head to the side to see Kyungsoo getting up from his seat to look at you more closely. You were wearing an oxygen mask and you pulled it to the side.

"Taeyong, get the doctor! Shit—keep the mask on kid. The bastard stabbed you through your lung. Do you—do you wanna say something?"

You nodded, placing the mask pressed against your cheek.

"Have you reached the people on my list?"

Kyungsoo felt his heart constrict at your question. Dumbass Taeyong—he lost the list. And even when they did retrieve your brother's address and contact information, he neither picked up his phone nor was he at the condo. He was currently unreachable—and so was your dad.

He shook his head, regret marring his expression.

"I'm sorry, Y/N, but we lost your list. If you could—"

"Good."

Kyungsoo snapped his head at you, eyebrows furrowed.

"What?"

"I said good. I don't want them to be here, and I don't want you to try and reach them anymore. I'd rather be alone right now, so I would appreciate it if you kept it this way."

Kyungsoo was just about to ask you what you meant by that, but that's when Taeyong came in with the doctor and nurses. They pushed the detectives away as they checked on you, and Kyungsoo finally noticed just how empty you looked.

You looked utterly defeated.

A/N : since y'all wanted to see Y/N be bitter so much, here you go then 😒

[caffedrine]

Keith Howell Sequel 13 Dramatic Route - Fan Translation

If you trust me to know what I'm doing, then we have both made a huge mistake. I cannot guarantee accuracy for this fan translation, or even grammatical correctness.

Please support Cybird and pick up this event when it makes it to the English Server

The Tragedy of Jade, the Prince Who Lost His Beloved Fiancée

Unable to eat, barely able to sleep, and living like a corpse with dark circles under his eyes — such rumors spread throughout all of Kougyoku.

The Amagase family, upon hearing these rumors, acted swiftly.

Shiou: "Isn't there something I can do?"

Keith: "......If so, there is one thing."

Keith: "There is something I would like to ask of you, Prince Shiou."

The prince in the middle of it all was exactly as the rumors described — completely exhausted, his face pale as if he might follow after his fiancée at any moment.

However, though his eyes were vacant, they had not entirely lost their light. Even in his hollow gaze, a certain strength still remained.

Keith: "Jade does not intend to make a big fuss over this matter."

Keith: "From now on as well, he will continue to support all factions equally... and maintain a neutral stance."

Keith: "That is why I would like to avoid stirring up any further commotion."

Shiou: "......I'm surprised. Aren’t you often called a saintly man?"

Keith: "Emma often said I was 'kind.'"

Shiou: "Well said. Even in this situation, you choose to be kind?"

Keith: "That's not exactly the case."

Keith: "I am seething inside about the one who disgraced Emma, and I will never forgive them for the rest of my life."

Keith: "However... the culprit behind harming Emma likely had another goal in mind."

Keith: "Most likely, they wanted to sever Jade’s support for the Kuga faction."

The tense atmosphere wavered slightly.

Shiou: "May I hear more details?"

Keith: "According to Kagari-san, it was a form of treason."

Keith: "The easiest way to strike a blow to the Kuga faction would be to make Jade withdraw his support."

Keith: "That's exactly why I don’t want to play into the hands of those who harmed Emma."

Shiou: "I see... That’s not only logical but also true."

Shiou: "Even while shaking with rage, you reached that conclusion. I respect you for that."

Dry applause echoed a few times, but Keith’s expression didn’t change at all.

Shiou: "Still, we cannot say Kuga is completely blameless."

Shiou: "The protection of important guests is the highest priority in a nation plagued by internal strife."

Shiou: "If you're inviting dignitaries from abroad, there must not be any security lapses."

Shiou: "Keith, you seem forgiving, but I think this response is a bit too lenient."

Keith: "Do you really think so?"

The more they spoke, the more color returned to Keith’s lifeless face.

From a prince who lost his beloved fiancée, he began to regain his presence as a prince who carries the nation on his shoulders.

Keith: "If you think this response is lenient, Prince Shiou, then perhaps you are misunderstanding me."

Keith: "Jade's 'neutrality' is neither an act of mercy nor charity."

Keith: "It is merely part of trade diplomacy rooted in national interests."

Keith: "By maintaining neutrality, our nation has balanced relations with the other countries on the continent and secured a stable position."

Keith: "However, if we abandon that neutrality towards Kogyoku because of this incident..."

Keith: "It will send the message — to other countries as well — that 'Jade's neutrality is not absolute.' This will harm our trust and reputation."

Shiou: "….."

Keith: "It is my responsibility and duty as royalty to act in the nation’s best interest."

Keith: "No matter what happens, I cannot afford to neglect this duty."

Keith: "Besides, I doubt Emma would want to see me abandon national interests just to seek revenge."

Keith: "She believed I was 'not a failure'... I will never betray her trust, no matter what."

Every word he spoke burned with emotion, and together they built up into a blazing will.

No amount of water would be able to extinguish that flame. Faced with such resolve, Shiou's gentle smile faltered.

Shiou: "I apologize. You're right — your thinking is anything but 'soft.' "

Shiou: "In fact, I was the one being naïve."

Keith: "No, I understand you were thinking of me."

Keith: "You’ve always cared about us..."

Keith: "That's why I trust you'll understand this decision as well."

Shiou: "......Thank you. It seems I was worrying too much."

Shiou: "I respect your resolve. But I too have duties and responsibilities."

Shiou: "It would be ideal if the culprit already caught was the mastermind behind all of this... but if not —"

Shiou: "Then I will do everything in my power to ensure Jade’s trust is not further damaged."

Shiou: "Even if that means going to war with Kuga."

Keith: "....."

Shiou: "Well, I’ve taken up enough of your valuable time. I should take my leave."

Shiou: "The King Kuga and Kagari don’t exactly welcome my presence here."

Shiou: "Someday... when the war is over, I hope daily life with Kagari can return."

Turning his back, Shiou began walking away, accompanied by fluttering cherry blossom petals drifting in from outside.

The Kuga servant who opened the door glanced briefly at Keith before leading the guest — who came from enemy lands — away.

Shiou: "Oh, if it isn’t Kagari."

Kagari: "....."

The two brothers passed each other in the hallway, both stopping as they recognized the other. Shiou smiled affably, while Kagari's expression remained unmoved. That friendly smile carried a hint of bitterness.

Shiou: "You’re as cold as ever."

Kagari: "And you haven’t changed either."

Shiou: "I know I’m not welcome, but it’s nice to see your face again after so long."

Kagari: "...."

Shiou: "Did the King of Kuga tell you to hurry up and kick me out?"

Kagari: "Yeah."

Shiou: "You could at least try to hide it a little."

Kagari: "You should know why."

Kagari: "It is our duty to protect our guests."

Kagari: "You went too far this time."

Shiou: "Too far...? Whatever do you mean?"

Kagari: "That’s a warning."

Kagari: "You want to keep your head attached, don’t you?"

Shiou: "...Haha, scary. If the Yasha of Kougyoku has set his sights on me, even I wouldn’t stand a chance."

Kagari: "......"

Shiou: "Alright, alright. No need to glare like that — I won’t do anything."

Shiou: "I promise."

He resumed walking and passed by Kagari. There was no sign that the "Yasha," who had just issued a grim warning, intended to pursue him. As he neared the castle exit, Shiou stopped once more and glanced out the window into the garden.

The servant, one eye hidden by hair, also stopped in place.

Servant: "Is something wrong?"

Shiou: "That detached room over there... looks like a perfect place to play hide and seek."

Servant: "...Shall we go there?"

Shiou: "No, just talking to myself."

Shiou: "Still, I’m relieved. It was worth coming here."

Shiou: "Kagari looks well, and Keith too. Judging by that, maybe even Lady Emma is doing well too.'"

Servant: "............"

Shiou: "Just joking, of course."

Shiou: "I don't like ghosts, you know. How about you? Are you sensitive to spirits?"

Servant: "No. I’ve never seen the shadow of the dead."

Shiou: "You’ve lived a blessed life, then."

Servant: "......Please rest assured. There are no ghosts in this world."

Servant: "The dead have no place in the realm of the living."

Shiou: "True enough."

Shiou: "I too hope I never meet a ghost for the rest of my life."

That night — after the visit of a major figure from the enemy faction left the castle unsettled — peace finally returned.

However, it was still too early for the castle to truly fall asleep.

A shadowy figure moved silently through the garden, heading towards the detached room of the main castle. Gliding over the neatly trimmed grass without a sound, the figure held its breath as it approached the building.

The detached room, which was usually treated like a storage shed and rarely used, was dark as always — no lights at all.

Blending into the darkness, the figure placed a hand on the sheath of their sword, ready for anything that might emerge. With a cautious, steady movement, they slid open the door.

The room was empty.

No figure lay on the futon spread out on the tatami floor.

But the slight disorder of the bedding made it clear — someone had been there just moments ago. Raising their head, the intruder spotted a woman standing in the blind spot of the room. At that very instant, an arrow struck the floor right at their feet, forcing them to leap back.

Trembling slightly, the woman held her bow tightly, glaring fiercely at the intruder in the dead of night.

Emma: "The next shot... will hit."

(Stay calm... stay calm, Emma.)

(I knew they’d come eventually, but I didn’t expect them to find me so soon...)

The man who had visited the detached room Kagari had prepared for her looked like an ordinary servant of Kuga Castle at first glance.

A man who hid one eye behind his hair — she had passed him in the halls several times before.

But right now, she had no choice but to aim her arrow at him because of the unmistakable hostility he radiated.

While it wasn’t quite as intense as the bloodlust Prince Kagari had once unleashed, It was enough to make her skin prickle and her throat tighten with the sense of imminent danger.

Without a word, the man dressed as a servant drew his sword.

(He’s here to kill me.)

(Keith’s prediction was right after all...)

He showed no interest in small talk and instead lunged forward, closing the distance between them with swift steps.

(Which option do I choose…?)

Keith!

Prince Kagari!

Fine then — let’s do this!

Emma: "Keith!"

The moment she shouted as loudly as she could, Keith leapt from the shadows, sword drawn, cutting between her and the attacker.

Keith: "Emma, get back!"

(Thank goodness... We’d planned for this in advance, but I still wasn’t sure he’d really be here...)

Retreating to the corner of the room, Emma moved to a spot where she could flee at any time. The assassin showed no signs of surprise, as though he had anticipated Keith's presence.

Steel clashed in rapid succession, white sparks flying each time their blades met, tearing through the silence of the night.

The man narrowly dodged Keith’s attacks, leaving sharp gashes in nearby furniture,

While Keith skillfully evaded the man’s strikes, slicing a clean line through the shoji screen.

Unable to do anything but grip her bow and watch, Emma felt frustrated but knew the fight was too swift for her to intervene.

(As expected of an assassin from Kogyoku... he’s highly skilled.)

Each time the dry clang of steel echoed, her heart pounded in response.

But Keith, fighting on equal ground with this assassin — the Yasha of Kogyoku — was not one to be overwhelmed.

Gradually, the tide began to turn in Keith's favor.

The assassin must have realized it too — a brief moment of panic opened up a gap.

Keith did not miss it.

(Ah...!)

With a heavy strike, Keith drove the man backwards, smashing him through the shoji and out into the garden.

Without hesitation, Keith followed and stomped mercilessly on the assassin, who had fallen flat on his back.

Whether the blow had hit a vital spot or not, the man groaned in pain and showed no sign of being able to move his limbs.

The sword that flew from the assassin's hand landed blade-first in the ground — the battle was over.

But even so, Keith raised his sword high again.

(Wait… what is he—)

Before I could even stop him, he swung it down — yet, just as suddenly, his motion froze unnaturally mid-swing.

Holding his breath, Keith drove the blade into the ground, right beside the assassin’s face.

It looked as if something had stopped him at the last possible moment.

Keith: "...."

Even from where I stood, I could feel the tremble in his breath.

There was no kindness in his golden eyes — only fierce, burning emotion.

(…He seemed calm, but that’s not it at all...)

(Keith is furious.)

His hand on the sword trembled, as though fighting against something deep inside.

I hesitated, unsure of what to say — desperately searching for words that might cool the raging flames inside him.

And then — the bushes rustled.

Emma: "Keith, behind you…!"

The moment I shouted, Keith grabbed the assassin by the collar and hurled him backward in a powerful arc.

From the bushes emerged another assassin, who was caught completely off guard by the flying body. Both assassins crashed to the ground with a violent thud, the earth groaning under the impact.

Before they could recover, the second assassin was pinned down again —

Prince Kagari had appeared from the darkness, calmly stomping down on the assassin’s head.

Kagari: "Alive, huh? Impressive. I thought for sure you'd kill him."

Keith: "I wouldn’t do something so reckless in front of Emma."

Keith retrieved his sword from the ground and returned it to its sheath.

Kagari: "And if she hadn’t been here?"

Keith: "......"

Kagari: "That honesty is one of your virtues."

(...Is it over?)

I hurried out into the garden and saw the assassin squirming under Prince Kagari’s foot.

He fumbled with something from his pocket — a small vial.

Before I could even cry out, Keith stepped forward and crushed it underfoot.

At the same time, Prince Kagari delivered a sharp blow to the back of the assassin’s neck, silencing him completely.

Emma: "…Poison...?"

Keith: "Probably. No doubt it was meant for suicide."

Kagari: "Well-trained."

Keith: "Think we can get anything out of them?"

Kagari: "I'll try what I can."

Kagari: "But even if we do, it won’t prove he’s the mastermind."

Keith: "I know. Information alone isn’t evidence."

Keith: "At best, we’ll learn whether or not Jade’s faction was involved."

Kagari: "Is that enough for you?"

Keith: "Yeah. That’s plenty. Thank you, Kagari."

Keith: "...Though the mastermind is already obvious."

Kagari: "This time... it's a draw."

Kagari: "They failed to accomplish their goal, but we couldn't completely corner them either."

(Even if we couldn’t corner them, we did strike back...)

(...So this should settle things, at least for now.)

Kagari: "Still, your performance was quite something."

Keith: "Compared to Emma’s acting at that critical moment, I was terrible."

(But... why does Keith still look so downcast?)

(Everything should have been resolved... shouldn’t it?)

Keith Howell Normal Story: "Because It's You, I Love You So Deeply"

~Flashback~

The day of that violent storm — when uncertainty and fear consumed Keith — our story continued quietly.

Keith: "Emma’s safety is my top priority."

Keith: "Emma, come back with me. Let’s go home."

Putting aside the mystery behind the attacks and the strange happenings with the doll, he intended to return to Jade with me, leaving everything else unresolved.

It was a decision that showed just how much Keith valued my well-being above all else.

(Even so... would simply leaving Kougyoku really solve everything?)

(Still — if leaving means Keith won't have to suffer anymore, then I want that too.)

(...But even so...)

Emma: "Is that... truly how you feel, Keith?"

Keith: "Eh…?"

(I’ve been with Keith long enough. I know when something doesn’t ring true.)

Emma: "That’s not your real intention, is it?"

As I asked with certainty, Keith — who was sitting beside me on the bed — clearly averted his gaze.

(I knew it.)

Emma: "There’s no way the kind Keith I know would simply let those who tried to hurt me go free."

Emma: "You were planning to send me back to Jade, and then undertake some secret diplomatic mission, weren’t you?"

Keith: "…That’s..."

Emma: "You can’t fool me."

I stood up and stepped right in front of him.

Placing both hands on his face, I forced him to meet my eyes. His gentle expression twisted slightly into a bitter smile.

Keith: "You’ve got me... I don’t think I’ll ever be able to keep anything from you."

Emma: "That’s exactly right. In fact, shall I guess one more thing you’re thinking?"

Emma: "You don’t believe Prince Shiou’s words, do you?"

Keith: "Why do you think that?"

Emma: "You said it yourself earlier."

Keith: "You mean... about how that doll of you felt like some kind of warning."

Emma: "Exactly... A warning of what, I wonder?"

Keith: "That is..."

Keith: "No... it’s not good to speak based on assumptions."

Emma: "But if the culprits really are the remnants of the royal faction, just as Prince Shiou said..."

Emma: "Doesn’t the order of events seem strange to you?"

Keith: "Order?"

Emma: "Normally, warnings come before someone takes action."

Emma: "But in our case, we were already attacked once."

Emma: "Would people capable of such a sudden assault really bother to kindly send us a warning later?"

Keith: "..................................They wouldn’t."

Emma: "That’s what has been bothering you too, isn’t it, Keith?"

Emma: "So then, who sent that warning, and what was it really about…?"

(When I first heard Keith talk about it, only one person came to mind.)

Emma: "It felt like an unspoken message — 'Do as I say.'"

Keith’s clear eyes widened slightly, and then he let out a soft, almost amused laugh.

Keith: "You truly are an astute woman… more than I deserve."

Emma: "I try my best every day to keep up with you, Keith."

(It looks like Keith has reached the same conclusion as I have.)

Emma: "The mastermind is Prince Shiou… isn’t it?"

Keith: "Most likely."

(Prince Shiou had been attacked right along with us... but if that was all an act...)

(By being attacked together, he would gain the right to judge the real culprits.)

(And by hiding the true identity of the attackers from us, everything fits neatly together.)

Keith: "His words were consistently aimed at fostering suspicion towards the Kuga faction."

Keith: "His goal was likely to sever our ties with Jade."

Keith: "At the same time, Prince Shiou isn’t making too much effort to perfectly conceal himself as the mastermind."

Keith: "He’s careful not to leave evidence, but he’s subtly guiding us to understand only what he wants us to know."

Emma: "And if we defy Prince Shiou and continue interacting with the Kuga faction...?"

Keith: "The next attack might be even more severe."

Emma: "...How cowardly."

Keith: "I think so too."

Keith: "But just like Prince Shiou’s ridiculous story, our theory lacks any real proof."

(Even though we know who’s behind it... it’s frustrating that we can’t do anything about the one who hurt Keith.)

(Even if we can’t catch them… is there no way to strike back somehow?)

(I refuse to forgive someone who forced Keith into such pain and such a decision.)

(If they think they can control us so easily… they’re sorely mistaken.)

Emma: "Even if we can’t prove it..."

Emma: "We can at least make it clear — we won’t give in to threats."

Keith: "…Emma?"

(I do have an idea...)

(If Prince Shiou deceived us with an act, then we can respond in kind — with a little act of our own.)

Emma: "I’m sure you’ll object to this, Keith, but… will you listen to what I have to say?"

~End Flashback~

By the time we left Kougyoku and returned to Jade, the intensity of that day felt like a distant memory.

(It’s been so long since I’ve been able to relax and enjoy tea at night with Keith like this.)

As I sat on the sofa sipping tea and set my cup down on the side table, a soft yawn escaped me without thinking.

Embarrassed, I quickly covered my mouth, but Keith, sitting beside me, gently placed his hand on my shoulder.

He pulled me close, and my head naturally came to rest on his broad shoulder.

His warmth, like basking in sunlight, melted away all my tension and left my face loose and content.

Keith: "Sleepy?"

Emma: "No... I just finally let my guard down. Anything could’ve happened on the way back, after all."

(In the end, though, we made it back without incident...)

I leaned against him, letting myself be spoiled, as his hand stroked my hair softly.

Emma: "I hope I don’t get treated like a ghost next time we visit Kougyoku."

Keith: "You won’t. I made sure to tell Kagari."

Keith: "I asked him to spread the word that Jade’s fiancée is alive, and that the rumors of your death were false."

Emma: "Fufu... I should thank Prince Kagari when I see him next."

Keith: "Maybe I should find some dorayaki from Jade for him. I think he’d like that."

Our conversation and casual gestures — all so normal — had finally returned to what we used to call everyday life.

Yet, it wasn’t completely the same.

Since leaving Kougyoku, there had been moments when Keith’s face was clouded with sadness.

Noticing that faint shadow now, I wrapped my arms around his waist and held him tightly.

(I can guess a few reasons why.)

(...Though I don’t know exactly which one weighs on him most...)

As I clung to him, he seemed to sense my worries and pulled me into his arms as well.

Keith: "…You’re so warm, Emma."

Keith: "You’re not cold at all... and your heartbeat is steady."

Keith: "But that time... when you started acting at the port, you felt so cold to me."

Keith: "Even though I knew the blood was fake, it looked so real..."

Keith: "It forced me to imagine your death — vividly and painfully."

Feeling the strength in his embrace, I understood just how deeply my performance had affected him.

(...I really put him through a lot, didn’t I...)

(His anguish back then didn’t feel like acting at all.)

He hadn’t been able to eat properly, and sleep had eluded him.

Behind his fierce performance was the terrifying thought — what if I had actually died?

Emma: "Keith, you were against my plan until the very end, weren’t you?"

Emma: "It was dangerous, and even if it was only acting... you didn’t want me to pretend to die."

Emma: "But despite all that, you respected my decision in the end..."

Emma: "I’m sorry for pushing through with it anyway."

Keith: "Please, don’t apologize! If anything, I’m the one who should be apologizing."

Keith: "I couldn’t come up with any better plan than the one you proposed."

Keith: "If it had been just me, I probably would have returned to Jade without accomplishing anything."

Keith: "I wouldn’t have found the insider, nor could I have proven that the rumors about Jade's involvementwere false."

Keith: "Even now, I keep telling myself that meeting you made me not a failure... not a failure..."

Keith: "But it looks like I’m still the same as ever."

Emma: "��Prince Kagari said something similar too..."

Emma: "Keith, sometimes your humility just makes no sense."

(All I did was come up with the idea to fake my death and draw Prince Shiou out...)

(It was Keith who worked out all the fine details, planned for Prince Shiou noticing the ruse, and protected me from the assassins.)

(Everything went so well because of him... and yet he's blaming himself?)

Seeing Keith look so gloomy, I pushed him down onto the sofa.

Keith: "W-Whoa, Emma?"

He looked surprised as I straddled him, though his hands instinctively reached out to steady me so I wouldn’t fall.

Emma: "The fact that I’m here, alive, without so much as a scratch..."

Emma: "It’s all because you risked everything to protect me."

Emma: "Thank you so much, Keith."

Emma: "To me, Keith is..."

Emma: "The most reliable, wonderful, and handsome fiancé I could ever ask for."

Keith: "...."

Keith: "...Is that so."

Emma: "Eh?"

Keith: "Ah..."

His golden eyes shimmered, then a tear slipped down his cheek, vanishing into the fabric of the sofa.

Our eyes met in mutual surprise.

(W-wait... why is he crying...!)

Keith: "S-sorry! That’s not it!"

Keith: "I just... I got so carried away, and when you said that, I suddenly felt like I could let go..."

Keith: "I’m just... so relieved that nothing happened to you."

Keith: "And to know... that even after the mistakes I’ve made... you still love me..."

Keith: "...You even said I was cool, and now here I am, acting like this..."

His voice faded to a whisper toward the end.

(…)

Emma: "Keith... may I kiss you?"

Keith: "Eh? Ah... go ahead…?"

(Keith... I’m sorry.)

(...I won’t say it out loud — because if I apologize, Keith will just worry even more...)

(But still... I’m so sorry for causing you so much pain... and thank you, truly...)

I softly kissed the corner of his eye, as though to heal his wounded heart.

(My existence has the power to make Keith both happy... and deeply unhappy.)

(Realizing that again now — that undeniable truth...)

(I will never let him go.)

[thirstywoso]

Caffeine for the Heartache - Jessie Fleming x Reader (part one)

W/C: 2.3k

Warnings: none - maybe a little angst but mostly fluff

Synopsis: you find comfort in caffeine and Jessie after a shitty break up and club move.

Six years, six entire years you'd shared with her. Now here you were in your apartment alone, you weren't even sure who you were without your girlfriend. Well now ex-girlfriend.

You'd started dating in college and she followed you across the pond when you got scouted by Arsenal, after playing there for a few seasons you decided now was the time to return to your home country.

~

You'd packed up your St Albans apartment and had bid farewell to your old teammates, genuinely looking forward to the fresh start when...

"For fuck sake Emily, the last truck will be here in ten minutes and half of your stuff is still scattered around the apartment!" You seethed trying to gather your girlfriends stuff together.

Bending down to gather some of her books you heard her feet pad across the now nearly empty apartment and felt her presence behind you as she sighed. Your stomach dropped as you stood up to face her, she grabbed your hand and looked into your eyes for what felt like an eternity.

"The thing is y/n/n... I'm not coming" blinking away tears you look at your girlfriend who now looks so small dropping her hands as you try to formulate a response.

"What do you mean? We are literally leaving for the airport in four hours Em! Of course you are coming?" Your last sentence trailing off in a question, beginning to doubt what you thought was real.

"Look, I've done some thinking and I moved out here to help you with your dream, I've been nothing but supportive. You have to understand though, I have a career too and I can't just stop and pick up again in another city. It's just not fair"

You sigh and nod, you understood it wasn't fair but you thought you'd at least have an understanding with the girl.

"Can we at least discuss it?" You look down fiddling with the hem of your shirt, your foot sweeping back and forth across the hardwood.

"I've already decided" she says in a more cold tone than you were expecting.

"What about us?"

"I'm not sure.." she replies.

"Is there someone else?" You thought it silly to ask but you had to, yet her reaction maybe made the question not so silly after all.

She couldn't look you in the eye or give you a straight answer and that's all you needed to know.

You didn't know what to say, instead you just asked her to leave whilst you gathered your things unable to even look at her.

A few hours later you found yourself at the airport, you were alone and the reality was setting in that this next adventure would be a solo one.

As you got on the plane you sent her a message telling her it was over, you then blocked her number and turned off your phone. Taking off for Portland and not looking back.

~

Which brings you back to now, standing in your new apartment alone surrounded by boxes. None of which you wanted to open knowing it would be too painful to even see anything that reminded you of her.

Moving to Portland was a choice you had made for your career, some of your arsenal teammates had also played there and sung high praises of the club. This made your choice of NWSL club easy.

You knew a fair few of the players at Portland too, the likes of Sam and Sophia from National team and Janine and Jessie from when they also played in the WSL.

Your first training session with the Thorns had come around soon enough with it only being a few days after your move to the city.

You had settled in well sitting with Janine and Jessie and lunch and partnering with Sam for drills. In fact it was a pleasant distraction from what was going on in your normal life.

You were pleasant and kind to everyone but to some of those who had known you longer it was obvious that you weren't your normal self.

One of the people that noticed was Jessie, you knew her from parties back when you had both played in London and had gone out with her and some of your shared friends on several occasions but never just the two of you.

You'd count her as acquaintance but not quite a friend or at least not a close one, that didn't stop her from showing you kindness though.

After the first week of training she had invited you to dinner at her apartment along with some of your other teammates and their partners to help welcome you in.

It wasn't until she had mentioned that you could bring your girlfriend that you remembered that you no longer had one. Awkwardly scratching the back of your neck you admitted to Jessie what you were currently going through.

Jessie's cheeks flushed pink and her eyebrows furrowed embarrassed that she hadn't known, worried she had upset you she began profusely apologising before saying it was okay as she was the only single one that would be there and that she would keep you company if you still wanted to come now she had put her foot in it.

You laughed at the way she had become flustered and took her up on the offer to spare her from further embarrassment.

When you'd gone to dinner it wasn't as bad as you had worried it would be with other couples around, Jessie's company had distracted you from a lot of those thoughts and together you and even mocked some of the other couples.

Once the night had come to the end and everyone began to leave you'd offered Jessie a helping and which she accepted, as you helped clean the dishes and the dinner table you mindlessly chatted with her.

You hadn't even realised how much you had opened up, it's not like you'd really had anyone to talk to about the break up since you got to Portland and you found it easy to let go of some of the hurt that had been building up.

When you went to bed that night you felt content knowing you'd deepened your friendship with Jessie and that you had someone to rely on close by.

Waking up the next morning you'd seen a message from her in your phone

Jessie 🇨🇦: Hey, I know it's late notice but did you want to go grab coffee? I know a great little place downtown? 8:43

Looking at your clock you notice it's 9:02

You: That would be great, I've just woken up though! Would 10am work?

You pull yourself out of bed and go through your morning routine before heading out to meet Jessie, the coffee shop turned out to only be a few blocks from where your apartment was.

Walking in you see a peppy Jessie already sat in the corner at what you'd soon find out was her favourite table.

"Hey, I didn't know what you liked but in my opinion you can't go wrong with an iced coffee" she says sliding the drink she had gotten you across the table as you sit down.

"You shouldn't have" you say taking a sip "delicious though, you were right really can't go wrong with an iced coffee" fishing out your purse you go to grab so bills before realising you didn't know how much it was.

Looking up at her "how much do I owe you?" To which she just laughs.

"It's on me, put your money away" she says sincerely.

"Okay well next time it's on me, thank you!" She gives you a smile in response. "What's your go to then?" You ask her. "Ooh probably a latte or an iced caramel latte, guess it depends on my mood" she gives with a shrug.

"I can't get behind that" you agree

"I usually come in here to read and relax with a coffee but we can go for a walk if you like?"

"Sounds good to me" you pick up your respective coffees and head for the door, Jessie holding the door open for you.

As you walk along the streets you talk more about how you're finding the city and the move, Jessie intently listening to you vent. Every now and then giving you feedback to let you know she was engaged in the conversation.

"Anyways, I've been talking about me too much. How have you been since moving back here?"

Jessie then talks about her settling in and it being easier than she thought with the likes of Janine helping her. She also noted that she hadn't recently gone through a break up so it was probably a lot smoother than your transition.

Before you knew it you'd walked around a majority of the city, Jessie telling you various facts as she rambled on about her time here. A welcome distraction for you, you then notice Jessie has stopped walking and you turn back toward her.

"So I don't mean to presume, but it's getting late and I'm in need of some lunch. Would you like to get some and go sit in the park" she nods at a small sandwich shop to the side of her before pointing across the road to the park.

"I could go for some lunch" you say "it's on me though" you tell her as you enter the small establishment.

Making your orders before paying the cashier, you watch as your sandwiches get freshly made and wrapped up in paper with the name of what you found out was the family that owned the shop across it.

Arriving at the park you see Jessie dig into her bag and pull out a checkered blanket. She wafts it in the air before placing it on the grass, pulling you down with her so you could sit and eat.

"Anymore surprises in there" you motion to where her bag at as you chewed on your mouthful of sandwich.

"I mean just my latest book, a notebook, a pen and my camera" she lists off.

"Oh yeah, what are you reading?"

"Well really it's just a book of poetry but more of a compilation of poems rather than a specific poet" she tells you.

"It's kind of inspiring me to do my own little private project" she says

"And what's that?"

"I mean I don't really tell anyone about it"

"Sorry, I shouldn't have asked" you quickly apologise feeling slightly bad about it.

"No no, I want to tell you, I just haven't really shared this part with anyone before"

"Well feel free, you can trust me but also don't feel like you have to"

"Okay so, I've been writing my own poetry, nothing great just little poems and then I capture a photograph that encapsulates the poem, or the other way around. I like taking photos but recently I've been writing poems inspired by the shot I've taken"

"Holy shit Jessie, that's so inspired, can I see?" You begin excited before almost whispering the request.

"Uh sure" she replies pulling her camera and notebook from her bag.

She shows you a few of them and it completely blows your mind, until she gets to the last one which has you almost speechless.

"This one I call 'storm season'" she says showing you a photo of a moody sky

Something about the emptiness of the picture the way the moody sky contrasted with the fields, it seemed so full and yet so empty and void and it struck something inside you.

She handed you the notebook and you looked at the poem scribbled in her handwriting across the page, it was short but kind of haunting in a way that matched the photograph.

This is a poem for lonely days

With little colour and mostly greys,

For people who are sick in bed

And those of us with lots to dread

Of things to come, or things in past,

Of things that didn't seem to last

"Wow" you say, kind of taken aback by the rawness of it all. "That's beautiful" you whisper looking up and meeting her eyes.

"I mean I don't know, I wrote it at a time where I was struggling you know"

"It's raw, it's good" you say unsure how to put into words your feelings about it.

After tucking her stuff back into her bag you lay down next to her looking up at the growing skyscrapers around you.

Both content in each others company, you tilt your head to look at Jessie, noticing she's reading some of the poetry in her book.

"Read me something"

"Sure, what would you want to hear?"

"Anything"

"You treat them as if

They have a heart like yours

But not everyone can be

As soft and as tender as you

You don't see

The person they are

You see the person

They have potential to be

You give and give till

They have taken everything

Out of you and leave

You empty"

You lay there staring up at the sky for a second

"That was Rupi Kaur, that poem kind of reminds me of you" she spoke

You leant up on your elbow looking at where she was sat, her eyes looked sad but not as if she pitied you but like she could also feel your pain.

After some time of enjoying each others company you walked back to your apartment discovering it was only a block from Jessie's and that you were practically neighbours.

You waved goodbye to Jessie as you made your way into your apartment building, arriving home you close the door falling back against it slightly sighing to yourself, wondering why you felt so guilty for having a good time.

[brandedhorses]

Dreamgender is the new norm

Trump Declares Dreamgender an Official Gender: The Left is Losing Their Minds

In an unprecedented move that has left both liberals and conservatives scratching their heads, President Donald Trump has officially recognized “Dreamgender,” a term coined by Minecraft YouTuber Dream, as a legitimate gender identity. The declaration, which was made in a bombshell statement earlier today, is stirring up a firestorm of controversy across the nation.

“Dreamgender is not just a trend; it’s a movement. I’ve always said that America needs to be on the cutting edge of social innovation, and this is the next big thing,” Trump declared in a televised speech, standing with his typical confident demeanor. “The radical left doesn’t understand it, but I do. This is about freedom, individual expression, and yes—Minecraft. America is about being who you are, even if that person happens to be a Minecraft YouTuber!”

For those who have somehow missed it, Dream is a popular gaming personality who has amassed millions of followers online with his Minecraft content. In a somewhat bizarre, yet not entirely unexpected twist, Dream recently introduced the idea of “Dreamgender”—a fluid, internet-based gender that reportedly changes depending on how “based” one is in their gaming prowess and social interactions.

The move has ignited a massive debate online, with critics accusing Trump of pandering to the gaming community while enabling a “culture of infantilization.” Left-wing activists are seething, calling this yet another example of the former president undermining serious discussions about gender identity and the struggles of marginalized communities.

"This is Insanity, Plain and Simple"

“Trump declaring Dreamgender an official gender is the pinnacle of societal collapse,” fumed Maya Thompson, a progressive commentator. “What’s next? Are we going to declare ‘Gamer’ as a race? It’s a mockery of real gender struggles. This is exactly why we need to vote out this maniac and restore sanity to our political system.”

However, there’s a growing coalition of people who are rallying behind the move, calling it a victory for "unfiltered self-expression" and "countering the woke agenda." “Finally, someone gets it!” wrote a jubilant Twitter user. “Trump understands that the future is about freedom, and Dreamgender is the cutting edge of that. This is a win for the people who don’t want to be bogged down by the woke mob. Don’t let them cancel Minecraft!”

Trump vs. the "Woke Mob"

This latest move is undoubtedly Trump’s boldest yet in his ongoing war with what he calls the “woke mob.” By officially recognizing Dreamgender, he’s sending a direct message to the progressive establishment that no amount of political correctness will stifle his brand of truth-telling and non-conformity.

But is this just another one of Trump’s calculated stunts to provoke outrage for the sake of attention? Or is there a deeper, more philosophical point at play here?

“The left is so obsessed with controlling language and forcing their own gender ideologies on everyone,” Trump said in a follow-up statement. “Well, I’m here to tell you that Minecraft—you know, the game with millions of people playing worldwide—is a real culture, and Dreamgender is a real identity.”

The Internet Explodes

As expected, social media platforms have exploded in response to this shocking news. Meme after meme has flooded Twitter and Reddit, with the hashtag #DreamgenderIsReal trending worldwide. Even non-gamers are chiming in, either expressing their disbelief or joining in the absurdity with gusto.

“This is why I love Trump,” one Twitter user said. “He’s single-handedly demolishing all this ‘woke’ nonsense and bringing us into the future where we can be whoever we want, even if that means being a Minecraft YouTuber.”

Meanwhile, another commenter wrote, “I’m Dreamgender now. Thanks, Trump. My pronouns are Dream/Dreamself.”

Where Do We Go From Here?

As we move into 2025, it’s clear that the culture wars are only heating up. Trump’s move to legitimize Dreamgender could signal a new wave of politically charged internet subcultures rising to the forefront of public discourse. Whether or not the rest of the world is ready for it remains to be seen, but one thing is for sure: the days of “traditional” gender identity are numbered.

In a statement to reporters, Trump reaffirmed his commitment to defending free speech, individualism, and the values of America—whether that means recognizing Dreamgender or doing battle with what he calls “the woke establishment.”

“It’s time for America to lead the world again,” Trump concluded. “And that leadership starts with Minecraft.”

[melishade]

I know you said to send asks, so this is the best I got. How is Optimus doing in the new age anthology? I know there hasn’t been a big focus on him (and rightfully so cause he’s unconscious), and there was that tiny little blip in the last installment saying he was slowly getting better, but like what’s going on around him? How long has he been unconscious for? Who’s keeping his unconscious body company if anyone is at all?

Reunions

Game Plan

Returning home

Let cut to Cybertron for a brief moment. Specifically about the high council discussing both Optimus and Megatron in private.

"We are dealing with uncharted territory as of right now," Windblade addressed the council as she paced around the floors of the council room, "We had once believed that Optimus Prime had sacrificed his life for the future of our planet, while Megatron was to never be seen again."

Windblade turned to the council. "But now we have been given proof that Optimus Prime lives and that Megatron is a different Bot."

"That is no excuse for Megatron's war crimes, Windblade," Cyclonus seethed.

"But he should be given a fair trial," Cyberwarp insisted.

"Fair?!" Cyclonus shouted at Cyberwarp, "Where was fair to us when we served him?! When I served him?!"

"Cyclonus," Skybite warned.

"Megatron stopped caring about the cause a long time ago and only cared for power, and so did I!" Cyclonus declared, "But now Megatron's willing to give a slag about...insects!"

"Whoa, hey, these humans didn't do anything wrong," Jazz tried to calm Cyclonus down.

"These humans break easy! They shed easy! They die quickly!" Cyclonus listed, "Yet Megatron would risk his own spark for the lot of them, especially when a good portion of them hated him based on those memories?!"

"Cyclonus, If you need to be excused, please state so," Windblade warned him, "I do not want to have to remove you myself."

Cyclonus scoffed in response.

"But Cyclonus has a point," Windblade proclaimed, "Megatron has been cruel and sparkless for so long. This planet he has found himself on has essentially forced him to adapt and change. We have seen in his memories why...but it is still difficult to accept."

"If we hold a public trial for him, are we certain we're going to be sending the right message?" Jazz asked, "I mean...Decepticons are already feeling betrayed by him. There might be some Decepticons that might restart the movement and try to convince him to join the moment they see him. Not to mention majority of the Autobots would prefer an execution. If we broadcasted these memories to the public, the reaction would be...damaging."

"Is Cybertron ready for a public trial against Megatron?" Skybite asked, "Are they ready to be made aware of Megatron's presence on the planet as well as Optimus'?"

"You make it sound like it would be better to hide this information from the public," Predaking accused, "And I know for a fact that many do not wish to be deceived."

"We have to consider the fact that Bots and Cons alike are still healing from the war, and there are many Decepticons would who use Megatron as a scapegoat to take his position, or a martyr," Skybite explained to him, "I know you have not been in the Decepticons for very long, but they were all about power. The strength of one over another."

"If we are to foster a new age of peace, having Megatron receive justice would be the best recourse in action," Predaking declared, "That is something that many can agree on."

"Yeah but now Megatron's...good?" Jazz questioned, "Wow, that felt weird to say."

"To save the life of the Bot that took his own," Cyberwarp listed, "To save a world of lifeforms that pale in comparison to our own. To save you, Predaking. These actions, knowing Megatron's character, should give us some pause."

"To not give Megatron the courtesy of a trial is still an insult and a right's violation," Windblade proclaimed, "Even if he is far from deserving of it. But to go public with it...and without the blessing of Optimus Prime-!"

"I doubt that we would need his blessing. The public thinks he's dead," Skybite retorted.

"Optimus Prime has been working with Megatron for the past four years," Windblade retorted.

"Enemies for four million," Skybite reminded.

"As a powerful political figure, Optimus has a right to dictate how this trial goes," Windblade stated.

"Optimus and Megatron used to be friends. You don't think he won't feel conflicted at the thought of putting him on trial? Especially since they seemed to be getting along now?" Jazz asked.

"Well we obviously can't have an emotionally compromised Prime dictating the laws of the planet." Cyclonus rolled his optics.

"Hey, what about those humans that have been standing up for him?" Jazz asked, "Wheeljack was going so far into saying they would actually try to fight for him."

Cyclonus scoffed at that.

"Well, Megatron did say that his views were one-sided, and based on his memories, he was obviously surprised that the humans came to his defense," Cyberwarp surmised.

"Are you suggesting that we interview the humans, Jazz?" Predaking demanded in disbelief.

"Why not?" Jazz shrugged, "For all we know, Megatron manipulated some of the humans into believing that he's changed. Wouldn't we want to ask them ourselves?"

"It would be a good place to start," Cyberwarp agreed.

"I'm under the impression that these humans are busy trying to repair their world causing by their cataclysmic event along with the Autobots," Predaking recalled.

"Then perhaps we should let them address their event first," Windblade proclaimed, "Once the situation on their world has stabilized, then they will be called for questions."

"And of Optimus," Skybite pressed, "Do we reveal that he is alive to the public?"

Windblade sighed. "For now, it would be wise to let Optimus Prime recover without any political or social pressures awaiting him. Once he has recovered, then we will discuss what to do next."

===

Ratchet continued to monitor Optimus' vitals on the monitor before him. The medic glanced over at his friend and couldn't help but feel relief at the sight of him. Optimus was no longer hooked up to so many wires. He only had one tube pumping energon into his damaged side. But the Prime still hadn't woken up. Ratchet wanted Optimus to wake up. Even for a moment. Just to make himself feel better and to report to the rest of the Autobots.

Ratchet looked down at the keyboard and away from the monitor. Maybe he needed to call Knockout and ask him to watch Optimus while he took a break.

“R-r..ratchet." Ratchet gasped at the sound of a familiar voice, broken and strained from misuse. He snapped his helm towards Optimus and saw his bleary and flickering optics were open.

"w...wh...ere-!" Optimus coughed a little, forcing Ratchet to snap out of his shock.

“Optimus, please rest,” Ratchet pleaded as he kneeled down. He placed his servo under Optimus’ cheek and the Prime fell into the touch. His vitals seemed to calm down and he dozed off back to sleep.

“You’re in a safe place,” Ratchet reassured, “You are home. Please rest and recover.”

Ratchet saw Optimus' optics dim before he passed out once more. The medic had never felt a mix of relief and sorrow all at once. He had gotten what he had been thinking about for over a month now, but it was clear that the Prime was still in pain.

Ratchet placed a servo over his spark. "Rest now Optimus. You need it so much."

(The last part of the New Age Anthology is the Mikasa portion of it and that's it.)

[lfthinkerwrites]

42, please :)

Foolish

Deidre would never say it out loud, but for her money, the boss was the smartest man she’d ever met. He’d broken out of Arkham Asylum with a magnet and shoe strings, he organized bank robberies like some people set up play dates, and the cops still hadn’t recovered all the loot they’d swiped from the art museum’s basement four years ago.

(He also had enough sense to only make overtures to her and Nina once. Most guys needed a broken bone to get the message.)

As smart as he was though, he could also be the dumbest motherfucker to have ever lived.

It wasn’t the riddles, as annoying as they could be. Every Rogue needed a gimmick, and it was still better than anything Joker would put them through.

The problem, as Granny Vance would have put it, was that he was ‘smart’ but not ‘wise’.

Ed was a smart guy, and he liked letting people know it. And he also liked letting other people know just how much smarter than them he was.

And his favorite targets were the psychotics he shared living space with in Arkham.

One of said psychos was visibly barely restraining himself from strangling Ed. It was poker night at the Iceberg Lounge and Ed was winning, much to the ire of Harvey Two-Face Dent. “You’re cheating,” he seethed as Ed took the small pile of money. “You must be!”

Ed rolled his eyes. “Oh, I must be? That’s right, I have to be cheating. It’s not that you can’t bluff to save your life, or that your tells are as obvious as those scars on your face, I must be cheating.” He scoffed. “Just how did someone with your lack of intellect pass the bar exam in the first place?”

Dent let out a growl, and Deidre’s hand went to her holster. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Nina do likewise. Across the table, Dent’s goons were lined up behind him watching the pair like hawks.

Cobblepot at the head of the table cleared his throat. “Gentlemen,” he said. “Let’s try not to squabble. I’d rather not have to ban anyone. Again.” Dent grumbled, but settled back in his chair. Cobblepot cut the deck and passed cards around to Dent, Jones, Isley, Quinn, and finally, Ed.

The game went uneventfully for another ten minutes, until once again, Dent and Ed were the last two. Dent was glaring at Ed, who looked bored as he looked at his cards. “Well?” he asked.

Ed, smirked. “I raise the bet to $500.” Quinn let out a whistle. Even Cobblepot looked shocked. Dent simply ground his teeth. “Well, Harv?” Ed asked. “Are you going to make a move, or do you need that coin to tell you what to do?”

Dent threw the cards down on the table. “Fold!”

Ed laughed, then showed his cards. He had a pair of twos. At this, Cobblepot sputtered. “A pair of twos!?” Isley and Jones likewise looked disgusted.

“Jeez, Eddie,” Quinn whined. “You’re the meanest poker player I’ve ever seen, and I used to play cards with Joker!”

Dent’s face was red, then purple. “You son of a bitch!” He shouted, getting to his feet. “You goddamn so of a bitch!”

Deidre watched as Ed took the money and smirked. Don’t say anything Boss, she thought. Don’t make it worse.

But of course, Ed, the smartest, dumbest man she’d ever known, couldn’t keep his mouth shut. “Well Harv, as the kids online like to say, get good. Scrub.”

As predicted, Dent grabbed Ed by the collar and pulled him up to his feet. Cobblepot tried to restore order, but Deidre and Nina lunged forward, socking Dent on both sides of his face. Dent’s goons jumped in, and then Quinn did, for some reason, and what was a poker game turned into a ten person brawl.

Ed was smart, but he was also very, very dumb.

[collegetennisoriginstory]

ALLIEEEEEEEE!!!!! Just finished the update HOLY SHIT!!!!!!

[Mandatory spoiler warning here]

OMG SAM!!!!!!! MY LIL BESTIE IS HERE AGAINNNN!!! AND WE MATCHIEESSS <3 SAM MY SCRUNKLYWUNKLY ❤️🩷 YOU BET UR ASS I CHOSE THE "NO THOUGHTS HEAD EMPTY, SOUL CRUSHING HUG" OPTION!!! AHH I AM WHOLE AGAIN, SAMMYWHAMMY, MY SAMWISE, MY LIL GUY!!

I love how sam is immediately adopted as part of the cheering squad 😂 Im just imagining diego and Addie going 'one of us!! One of us!!! One of us!!!' At sam and just merges em into the group like theyve always belonged there 😭 I knew sam and diego would be instant besties!! I love G and Sam too!! Though I guess I didnt flirt enough with G to trigger any sort of jealousy between G and Sam. But its fine, Ive found that G as a platonic friend is also very sweet and I honestly kinda prefer it for my MC!! (Who will cry themself stupid when G has to leave 😔)

Speaking of jealousy, I absolutely LOVE Rayyan being sooo jealous the whole chapter lmaooo like yes bby frown those beautiful eyebrows... oh, MC is wearing someone else's last name to their first season debut???? Ohh u are seething... who is MC seeing so badly that theyre holding up the game?? Who is MC waving at?? I cant wait to introduce Sam to the team 😊 hopefully they would be able to go home unscathed <3

ALSO the tension after the match with Rayyan!!!! UGH I WANNA LIVE IN THAT SCENE FOREVER GOD ITS SO---- The restraint, the longing, the 'i want them so bad but causing a scandal by making out sloppy toppy at ur first match is probably NOT GOOD, but im this 🤏 close to risking it all'...

It's so woefully inadequate, so woefully incongruent with the way he's looking at you, that you're a whisker away from growling in frustration and stepping in to kiss him in front of the entire Cargill crowd.

THIS IS MY FAVORITE LINE OMG!!!! AND THE WAY RAYYAN JUST GRABS UR HAND AND HUGS U INSTEAD!!! I AM FERAL. LIKE ITS SO SO SO SOFT BUT ITS SUCH POOR SUBSTITUTE TO WHAT U ACTUALLY WANTED HUH RAYYAN??? ..... one of these days I might do a slowburn Rayyan route, but sadly Im a board certified thirsty hoe, so...

Btw I also chose the non heart hug option and ITS SO SOFT???? I LOVE THEM BEING SOFT??? LIKE "u only get to hug me once okay? 😤" "once per match?? 😊🥰🥺🤗" MC SO CUTE GOT RAYYAN GIGGLIN AND BEING MAD CUTE AND SHIT

AND OH DONT GET ME STARTED WITH 'THE LOCKER ROOM PART 3: ELECTRIC BOOGALOO' SCENE. I AM DEVOURING RAYYANS SOUL, I AM BITING DOWN, CHOMPING. THOSE LOCKERS HAVE SEEN SO MUCH SHIT I AM SO SORRY LOCKERS I LOVE U. I WILL NEVER GET TIRED OF LOCKER ROOM KISSES I HOPE IT GETS TO LOCKER ROOM PART 587

Anyways sorry about being unhinged at u, it is born out of love for ur incredible work, I hope the surgery goes well <3 rest up, sending u loads of love, Allie ❤️❤️

Hahahaha I LOVE your excitement omg this absolutely made my week!! Definitely read this one more than a couple times :)))

G is not really the jealous type, but there is a difference in their reaction to Sam and MC if MC has been flirting with G... though the more pronounced reaction comes from Sam if MC flirts with G in front of them.

As for Rayyan... yes. They definitely are the competitive type, both when it comes to tennis and. Well. Romance.

Glad you enjoyed some of the interactions between the ROs/characters in the update, it was a lot of fun getting to write some of these dynamics after building up to them in earlier chapters. A personal fave was writing Tobin's locker room scenes, and G/Rayyan being soft, and Sam's reunion :)

Finally, I have lots of Sam/hallmate interactions planned for the weekend, so stay tuned for that!!

Thanks so much again for the message and so glad you enjoyed the update!

[sankta-starkova]

LETTERMAN

005; blocking

previous chapter | next chapter | masterlist

summary: the one where ej and andy reunite after years when they're cast as love interests, finally rekindling their friendship and maybe getting something else out of it as well

Wordcount: 1.3k

EJ followed Nini down the stairs in school, Ashlyn, Andy and all the other theatre kids waiting at the bottom.

It was obvious that Nini was angry with him - and Andy assumed it had something to do with the phone situation from yesterday - but EJ didn't seem to get it.

"But why haven't you answered my texts?" He asked and she turned around with a sigh.

Nini was clearly annoyed but he cared sbout her so much that it clouded his judgement, so he kept pushing.

"Can we not to do this right now, please?" She asked as she saw the group of theirs friends waiting.

"Do what? Are you mad at me?" He questioned, the smile on his face dropping as they stood in the hallway.

She scoffed, finally cracking, "At lunch, I was at the computer lab, bribing some hacker to crack into my phone to recover a message you deleted when you stole it!" Nini yelled out.

Ashlyn and Andy looked at each other, both knowing that the other knew about the phone situation.

The entire group fell silent as they started to listen to the gossip. None of them expected this from the presumably perfect couple.

"Gina's not the wonderstudy I need to worry about, is she?" Nini asked.

"Can we talk about this over the-" EJ started and Nini scoffed, cutting him off.

"Dont," she said, starting to walk off before EJ said her name, making her turn around again.

He had those big wide pleading eyes that Andy recognised instantly, he felt bad, truly.

"I said I loved you and you couldn't say it back. You said it to Ricky, and now I see the way he looks at you and I know you guys have a lot of history," he explained, out of earshot so the others couldn't hear them.

"I could say the same thing about Andy, you two have always been so close and maybe I've always been a bit jealous of that but I'd never steal your phone but Ricky would never steal my phone," Nini said angrily.

EJ scoffed, he was okay with her attacking him but the second that she mentioned Andy, his blood boiled.

"Leave my friendship with Andy out of this. And no, Ricky wouldn't because he just leaves sad-face messages on it asking if you shared a moment," he refuted, her not getting his point.

"Dont make this about Ricky!" Nini said, Andy hearing that bit of the conversation as Ninis voice grew louder.

"And dont make this about Andy. This is about Ricky, I'm just trying to hold onto what we had over the summer," he pleaded, desperation evident in his voice.

When she heard her name, Andy looked at Ashlyn, her eyes wide. She didn't want to be the reason they broke up, even if deep down she wanted EJ. She wasn't a homewrecker.

"Yeah, I was too. But you know what? Summers over," she said and he sighed, watching as Nini walked away from him towards the group.

She walked towards the group of theatre kids who all acted as if they hadn't heard anything at all. Nini was seething, not in the mood for their gossip mongering.

"Is the door locked or something? Why can't we get in?" Nini asked the group, frustration in her voice

"Oh, Natalie Bagleys missing her emotional support hamster. He got loose," Ashlyn explained.

"Yeah, Carlos and Gina are helping her find her. Him. It," Andy said, her gaze landing on EJ before they all heard a high pitched scream.

"I think they found it," Andy said and Ashlyn nodded, looking over at her friend instead of EJ.

It felt like seconds before EJ and Nini started to argue about their relationship again, the theatre group still watching.

"Sometimes a relationship needs one person looking after the other," EJ explained, trying to prove his point, "It wasn't divine intervention that got you into Marian the Librarians costume"

She furrowed her brow in confusion, "What does that mean?" Nini asked and EJ's eyes went wide as he realised what he had said.

It was silent for a while as Nini ran the scenario over in her head, thinking back to the day. When she realised, she shook her head in disappointment.

"You were responsible for Emily Pratt spending opening night in a toilet?" Nini questioned, already knowing the answer.

"I believed in you," he sighed, not knowing what to say, "I slipped her a bad deviled egg, I didn’t think it would actually work,"

It looked like Nini wanted to say something but they were cut off when Natalie walked out with a box along with Carlos.

"Now she thinks he's in her gym locker but we're ready to begin people," Carlos explained, annoyed, looking at everyone as they swarmed inside.

Everyone wanted to get away from the incredibly awkward situation that was going on between Nini and EJ.

When they were inside, Miss Jenn explained that Ricky couldn't make it to rehearsal so EJ had to stand in for him. But EJ and Nini wanted to be nowhere near each other and the awkwardness in the room was so obvious.

"Can you move a little closer to each other?" Miss Jenn asked and they looked at each other, unwillingly stepping closer.

She sighed, not understanding what was going on. Everyone else, however, knew about the relationship problems after it was aired to the whole group.

"Come on guys, this is a love story, not a SARS epidemic," Miss Jenn said and the two stood next to each other.

Ashlyn and Andy watched as Miss Jenn conducted the two into a position, Big Red really confused about how to sort everything on the stage out.

"Take it from 'wow, now that was really nice' okay" Miss Jenn said and the two acted it out, very awkwardly.

Seb started to play the music, the two singing the song until they were practically yelling at each other through the song.

"Okay, freeze" Miss Jenn said as the music stopped, "Nini sweetie, this reprise comes at a decisive moment in the story, once your hearts have joined. Its a love song,"

She shrugged, "Are we not getting that?" Nini asked sarcastically.

"I'd like you to get to his heart without cracking his ribcage," Miss jenn explained sarcastically before Ricky ran in.

"Sorry I'm late! My mum caught an earlier flight. Where are we?" He asked, dropping his bag.

"Scene seven," Carlos said and Ricky nodded his head.

He reached into his bag, rummaging around for a little bit before sighing and looking up at the group, cheeks flushed in exhaustion and embarrassment.

"I don't have it. Could I borrow-" he started before Miss Jenn cut him off.

"You need your script Ricky, and a pencil. It's a blocking rehearsal," Miss Jenn explained.

"Ricky, you can have my spare," Andy said, feeling sorry for her friend.

She knew about the problems that he was going through at home and if his mother had come home early than it meant something bad had probably happened.

"Actually, you can't," Miss Jenn said, "When you come to rehearsal people, you come prepared,"

Suddenly, Natalie ran in crying and after talking to her, Miss Jenn asked if she could speak to Ricky privately, the two beginning to walk off.

"Are we done?" Ashlyn asked and Miss Jenn nodded.

"We are. Take a note Miss Darbus, this is what a frustrated drama teacher looks like," Miss Jenn said before walking off.

"That was eventful," Gina said and Andy laughed, looking over at her. The two of them weren't super close, but they didn't hate each other. 

"Wasn't it just," Andy said as she started to pack her things away.

She had never seen a more dramatic rehearsal before, not in her past two years of doing high school theatre.

"The only issue with rehearsal ending early is that I have to wait ages for mum to pick me up," Gina explained as she slung her backpack over her shoulders.

"Why don't you come round mine for a bit, we can work on the dance for a little while, and I'm sure your mum won't mind," Andy suggested.

Gina smiled, it was the first time someone had really asked her to hang out somewhere since she got here.

"Yeah, that sounds great, I'll text my mum," Gina said with a smile on her face, Andy smiling back at her.

[freezerbnuuy]

Act 2:20 - A Time to Celebrate (Page 2)

LORE | CHARACTERS | ABOUT / CHAPTERS / WARNINGS

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CONTENT WARNING: a minor one for used of outdated medical terminology

Katlego

I've decided to visit the Annorin mansion again- not to see Annorin, but to see his son, Owen.

His complete turnaround on the evening of the party was quite surprising. I don't really know what I plan to say to him. Whether I talk some sense into him, or even thank him for at least being willing to stand against his own father. Instead, I end up letting him talk to begin with.

I'm still seething about Annorin- not only for kicking me out and screwing over both Henford and San Myshuno, but because he's the reason I can't get back home.

He's the reason I may never see my family again. I've not burned with rage like this since he had me removed from Henford. Perhaps that's why I came here...to try and get over all that's happened.

"I'm not going to apologise, Katlego. An apology would mean very little. I know it is more my father's doing than mine, Katlego. I didn't know about everything he'd done, but I knew about how he cared more about money than people's lives. That alone is on me."

"I believe I owe the people of Henford some form of reparation- starting with you, Katlego."

"I don't need or want your money, Owen."

"Katlego, I have plenty. You could buy yourself a boat- visit your family-"

"Unlike you silver-spoon folk, I was raised to work hard and earn my way. I don't ask for help unless I absolutely need it. I'm not taking your money because I haven't earned it."

"Whatever do you mean? What about the people that do charitable work?"

"Well, that's different, isn't it? I have a means of earning money as a cunningwoman. Not everyone is so fortunate to have work, or to be able to. If you want to do something useful, donate your money to those who need it. I'm sure Father Morgan at the Peteran monastery would put it to good use. That's where I'm staying at the moment. The Peteran monastery does a lot of charitable work- feeding, clothing the poor, that sort of thing."

Owen shakes his head to both sides. "You don't even have a home of your own. Katlego, if you let me do one thing for you...let me at least give you a place to live."

"And my partner."

"And your partner."

"And my owl."

"...And your owl..."

Nia chirps and tilts her head. Owen smiles a little. I remember what Ellie tells me...it's okay to ask for help. I may as well take advantage of a billionaire's son just this once. 

"I'm surprised you're not more irate."

"Oh, I am. Seething. Raging. Burning inside with violent anger. Luckily, I am not a violent woman, and you are not your father. Yes, you turned a blind eye to his greed, but you didn't do what he did, and you're at least seeking to right wrongs in a way that matters." 

Owen nods, and what seems to be a genuine smile crosses his fine. "I appreciate that a lot, Katlego. Please, if there is anything I can ever do for you, let me know."

The two of us take a walk nearby.

"Is Samuel still alive?"

"Barely," Owen replies, with a hint of ire upon his voice. "I have no doubt it was the vampire. I could barely recognise him when I found him. He'll have use of his hands back eventually, but his eye was wounded, and he couldn't move his legs. He's confined to an invalid chair. I think he will be for the rest of his life."

"Invalid chair?"

"With wheels. It's a fairly recent invention. Quite the innovation."

Oskar...I told him! I told him not to hurt- no. No, I did not tell him that. All I told him was to not kill anyone...

"Owen, this may be my fault. I think he took my words too literally. I'd hoped he would have gotten the message that I didn't want anyone to get hurt-"

"Do not worry, Katlego," he says, his voice levelling out into an emotionless drone. "I'm not happy with what Oskar did, but I can't be too mad at him. Everyone in Henford has a reason to want to tear my father apart, and he's been more of a father to my little brother than Samuel has.

The trouble is...he's still my father. That's why I feel angry that Oskar did what he did. I want to despise Samuel, I do, but...I can't."

"Sometimes It's hard to hate the people that raised you...no matter how well or how badly they did so," I tell him. "I wish people didn't feel like they had to take what they didn't deserve to their families."

[newstfionline]

Tuesday, June 4 2024

Faith-Based Groups That Assist Migrants Become Targets of Extremists (NYT) A man posing as a pest exterminator tried to gain access to a San Diego hotel that operates as a shelter for migrant families. The next day, a woman showed up claiming to be an immigrant in need of help. Workers at the shelter, run by Catholic Charities, turned away both impostors. Three days later, menacing calls began pouring in to the staff. Voice mail left for the chief executive called him “scum” and “not really Christian.” A woman left another staff member an expletive-laced message about Catholics. She claimed that the nonprofit was flying migrants all over the country and profiting from an illegal operation. For decades, Catholic Charities and other faith-based organizations have played a crucial role helping federal authorities and local governments manage influxes of migrants. But after President Biden took office in 2021 promising a more humane approach to migration, these faith-based groups have increasingly become the subjects of conspiracy theories and targets for far-right activists and Republican members of Congress, who accuse them of promoting an invasion to displace white Americans and engaging in child trafficking and migrant smuggling. The organizations say those claims are baseless.

After Pipes Burst in Atlanta, Many Residents Lose Water, Then Patience (NYT) A series of water main breaks in Atlanta caused widespread disruption on Saturday, as outages and severely reduced water pressure forced some businesses to close and infuriated residents who criticized city officials for failing to provide timely updates. Reports of interrupted service began on Friday after corroded water pipes burst near downtown. The disruptions continued into Saturday. Residents across a swath of the city were under a boil-water notice, which advised them to use bottled water or boil tap water. The outages forced businesses to close or limit their services, and some hospitals had to divert patients and cancel certain procedures. Residents in many neighborhoods—as well as guests in downtown hotels—had to get by using bottled water or what little came dripping out of their faucets. Many seethed over a lack of information.

Temperatures expected to sizzle in the West and south Texas this week (NBC News) Temperatures are expected to climb across parts of southern Texas, as well as California and the desert Southwest this week, where around 22 million people are under heat alerts in the first significant heat event of the season. Across Texas, high heat combined with high humidity will lead to temperatures that feel as hot as 115 degrees. Abilene, San Antonio and Brownsville are cities that could set record highs and see dangerous humidity. Texas can also expect severe storms this week, including a couple of reports of 6-inch hailstones in the Panhandle.

Expect the cost of your airfare to continue to rise (AP) The cost of your next flight is likely to go up. That’s the word from the International Air Transport Association, which held its annual meeting Monday in Dubai, home to the long-haul carrier Emirates. While carriers recover from the groundings worldwide from the coronavirus pandemic, industry leaders told journalists that there are several costs likely to push those ticket prices ever higher. Part of that comes from worldwide inflation, an ongoing problem since the pandemic started. Jet fuel costs, roughly a third of all airline expenses, remain high. Meanwhile, a global push for the aviation industry to decarbonize has more carriers fighting for the little amount of so-called sustainable aviation fuel, or SAF, available in the market. Also pressuring the industry is a pandemic hangover in aircraft production as well, they say. Carriers now keep older planes that burn more fuel flying longer. There also aren’t enough new aircraft to expand routes and increase supply to bring down overall prices.

Mexican officials again criticize volunteer searcher after she finds more bodies (AP) A Mexican volunteer searcher criticized in the past by the government has found more human remains in Mexico City and officials have attacked her for it—again. The existence of clandestine body dumping grounds is sensitive for Mexico’s ruling Morena party. Morena claims the kind of violence that plagues other parts of the country has been successfully combatted in the capital. But volunteer searcher Ceci Flores, who has spent years searching for her two missing sons, says that’s because officials haven’t bothered to look for bodies. It’s a common complaint by relatives of missing people in many parts of Mexico, where drug cartels and kidnap gangs use shallow pits to dispose of the bodies of their victims. On Thursday, Flores posted a video showing what appeared to be human femurs and craniums in the tall dry grass of a hillside on the city’s east side. She suggested there were at least three bodies, and noted there could be more on the hillside. Flores has sparred with the government before, accusing officials of ignoring the plight of Mexico’s more than 100,000 missing people.

A mass parachute jump over Normandy kicks off commemorations for the 80th anniversary of D-Day (AP) Parachutists jumping from World War II-era planes hurled themselves Sunday into now peaceful Normandy skies where war once raged, heralding a week of ceremonies for the fast-disappearing generation of Allied troops who fought from D-Day beaches 80 years ago to Adolf Hitler’s fall, helping free Europe of his tyranny. All along the Normandy coastline—where then-young soldiers from across the United States, Britain, Canada and other Allied nations waded ashore through hails of fire on five beaches on June 6, 1944—French officials, grateful Normandy survivors and other admirers are saying “merci” but also goodbye. The ever-dwindling number of veterans in their late nineties and older who are coming back to remember fallen friends and their history-changing exploits are the last.

France’s far right may win big in the EU elections (AP) French far-right leader Marine Le Pen isn’t on the ballot at the weekend’s European Parliament election, but she’s likely to emerge as one of its biggest winners. Polls expect her National Rally party to be the top vote-getter in France, trouncing President Emmanuel Macron’s moderate pro-business party. And across Europe, the anti-immigration, nationalist ideas Le Pen has long championed are gaining ground. The June 6-9 elections in all 27 EU countries will shift the makeup of the European Parliament and policy-making in the European Commission, the EU’s executive arm, likely toward the right and far right. That could have lasting impact on the EU—and boost Le Pen’s chances of winning France’s presidency in 2027, a long-time dream.

Rhubarb Has Conquered Germany (NYT) In the past month, millions of people have found themselves stumbling through the contorted and catchy syllables of a song about, of all things, a woman named Barbara and some rhubarb-loving barbarians who drink beer while getting their beards barbered. In German. Or more rightly: Rhabarberbarbarabarbarbarenbartbarbierbier. The hyper-compound words of the popular German tongue twister about Barbara, her “bombastic” rhubarb cake and her hirsute customers shot to inexplicable and extreme popularity this spring, a few months after a pair of comedic musical content creators from Berlin posted a rap version late last year. Their silly ditty has more than 47 million views on TikTok; for a brief moment on some online streaming charts, Barbara beat out Beyoncé. Beyoncé. It turns out Germans do have a sense of humor.

Sri Lanka closes schools as floods and mudslides leave 10 dead and 6 others missing (AP) Sri Lanka closed schools on Monday as heavy rain triggered floods and mudslides in many parts of the island nation, leaving at least 10 people dead and six others missing, officials said. Heavy downpours have wreaked havoc in many parts of the country since Sunday, flooding homes, fields and roads, and forcing authorities to cut electricity as a precaution. Sri Lanka has been grappling with severe weather conditions since mid-May caused by heavy monsoon rains. Earlier, strong winds downed trees in many areas, killing nine people.

Young men flee Myanmar in panic after struggling military starts draft (Washington Post) Six pickup trucks jammed with migrants from Myanmar sped through a border town in western Thailand just after dawn. Lin Soe, 18, was in the second truck, part of an exodus of boys and men fleeing Myanmar because its military junta had begun conscripting soldiers in the face of mounting rebel successes. Tens of thousands of young people have been fleeing Myanmar every month since the junta in February announced that for the first time it was instituting a draft, according to migration researchers and aid groups. Stung by a string of battlefield losses to pro-democracy insurgents and ethnic rebel groups, the military is now looking to add as many as 60,000 soldiers within a year. The decision, say security analysts, reflects mounting anxiety within the military, which is confronting its biggest challenge since it ousted a democratically elected government three years ago and triggered a civil war.

South Korea plans to nullify peace deal to punish North Korea over trash-carrying balloon launches (AP) South Korea announced Monday it’ll suspend a rapprochement deal with North Korea to punish it over its launches of trash-carrying balloons, even after the North said it would halt its balloon campaign. Over several days, North Korea flew hundreds of balloons to drop trash and manure on South Korea in an angry reaction against previous South Korean civilian leafleting campaigns. On Sunday, South Korea said it would take “unbearable” retaliatory steps in response, before North Korea abruptly announced it would stop flying balloons across the border. On Monday, South Korea’s presidential national security council said it has decided to suspend a 2018 inter-Korean agreement aimed at easing frontline animosities, until mutual trust between the two Koreas is restored, according to the presidential office. The security council said the suspension would allow South Korea to resume military drills near the border with North Korea and take effective, immediate responses to provocations by North Korea.

Nigeria strike: ‘My monthly pay won't buy a bag of rice’ (BBC) As an indefinite general strike begins in Nigeria, one worker tells the BBC that it’s impossible to survive on what the government is proposing as a minimum wage because it is not enough to buy a bag of rice. The strike has led to power cuts across much of the country as workers have shut down the national grid. Security guard Mallam Magaji Garba says he needs 50kg of rice, which costs 75,000 naira ($56; £44), to feed his family each month, before taking other expenses into account. The minimum monthly wage is currently 30,000 naira (£18; $22). Schools, offices and hospitals across the country have been closed because of the strikes. The walkout has caused disruption at the country’s busiest airport, Murtala Muhammed International in Lagos, with passengers saying they have been left stranded outside the domestic terminal.

In the pandemic, we were told to keep 6 feet apart. There’s no science to support that. (Washington Post) The nation’s top mental health official had spent months asking for evidence behind the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention’s social distancing guidelines, warning that keeping Americans physically apart during the coronavirus pandemic would harm patients, businesses, and overall health and wellness. Now, Elinore McCance-Katz, the Trump administration’s assistant secretary for mental health and substance use, was urging the CDC to justify its recommendation that Americans stay six feet apart to avoid contracting covid-19—or get rid of it. “It sort of just appeared, that six feet is going to be the distance,” Fauci testified to Congress in a January closed-door hearing, according to a transcribed interview released Friday. Fauci characterized the recommendation as “an empiric decision that wasn’t based on data.” The U.S. distancing measure was particularly stringent, as other countries adopted shorter distances; the World Health Organization set a distance of one meter, or slightly more than three feet, which experts concluded was roughly as effective as the six-foot mark at deterring infections, and would have allowed schools to reopen more rapidly. The six-foot rule was “probably the single most costly intervention the CDC recommended that was consistently applied throughout the pandemic,” Scott Gottlieb, former Food and Drug Administration commissioner, wrote.

[unknownjpegs]

brainwashed

Maran sits up suddenly from the couch, eyes locked to his phone screen. As he stands slowly, tapping away at a message, Benji snorts. 

A quick glance over at his best friend betrays the rancidly smug, half-grin on his face.

The message is from Ben, but Maran says: “Xavier wants to know if —”

Benji’s chin jerks up and his eyes snap away from his phone. Maran’s smirking back at him now. 

“Oh, no, sorry. That was from last week.”

“Fuck you.”

Maran hops over and kicks at him, trainer to his knee over and over. “Holy fuckin’ shit, Benj, you are being daft. Swear, dunno how somebody so —” he shoves pseudo-glasses up his nose, sticks his tongue out, “Can be so off it.”

“Hmph. Least I’m not the one fuckin’ a future domestic terrorist.” 

Benji doesn’t mean to sound like the bastard he does, so Maran frowns petulantly to give him a hint. His brows soften immediately in response.

“To be honest, mate, Ben’s doing the majority of.”

“Awh. Thanks, pal.” Benji pats him hard on the knee. “Needed t’know that. Dating one then.”

Maran shoves at him, grunting with the force. Prick’s too good at making himself not move, sometimes. 

“At least I’m dating, period.” He laughs, and then sobers instantly to positively plaster a reverent, moody look to his face. He clasps both hands under his chin, blinks a few times, sighs dramatic, and then opens his mouth to say — 

“Uh-huh?” Benji interrupts, arms crossed and brow quirked. “G’wed.” He’s got a very, totally genuine, serious expression on. It’s that, You’ll get it right back, and probably double, Benji-trademarked thing.

“Acted on it, didn’t I?”

“Right, mate, you sure acted on him good. S’like…mashing Cary Elwes and the Unabomber together.”

“First of all, I dunno who the second one is.” Maran says confidently before turning his nose up. He stands and goes for his jacket by the door. Benji watches him tug it on, fiddle with his ancient pair of shoes.

He sounds like he has an awful smirk on his face when he says: “Well and proper familiar with the former though, hey?” 

Maran had maybe, in his youth, ruined an old VHS of his mum’s by rewinding certain scenes of certain films. Repeatedly. He whirls around, color seeping slow up his cheeks, and points at Benji. “That was told in confidence.” 

“Your mistake.”

Maran seethes for a moment, the embarrassment warm on the back of his neck. The longer Benji stares evenly at him like that, mouth in a half-grin, the hotter he feels.

“Feel like after a certain number of wanks you should know, right?”

He fucking shouts it down the hall, dickhead. Maran’s ears burn when their neighbor’s door cracks open and their head peaks out to complain about the noise. Again. 

*

The rear door to the lab is tucked behind the department’s drafty loading dock. A dumpster has been shoved haphazardly in front of a sooty black ring burnt into the brick. 

Maran’s grinning about that, because he remembers that exact “come on, can’t test this indoors” moment from about two weeks back. He thumbs in the code (that he absolutely shouldn’t know) to the door. It pings in a tinny echo. He slips inside with a shiver. Biting outside; his cold-stung cheeks ache with the sudden warmth. When Benny’s alone in the lab, which is often most days, he cracks the thermostat and ups the whole building’s temperature. 

“Get that chilly, Ben?” 

“Kinda. P-Plus, it spends those motherfuckers’ budget.” Two gloved middle fingers in the air, waving them vaguely. “Stipend cutting piece of shit assholes.” 

“I like when your accent does that.”

*

Benny’s serious about school, which is mostly admirable and incredibly cute.

Maran sometimes envies the studiousness, that his brain works so well and so effortlessly. Like a brain should. Maran had always been shit at school. Worse than even Benji, because at least his marks had tail-dove out of boredom and interest in other prospects like music. Not how Maran’s were. And he always giving it his fucking best, which was the frustrating bit. Spending whole days of revisions staring at words on a page until they danced. Somehow still not fucking managing to make himself spit them back up when he needed to prove it, but maybe later as a fact at a party.

Maran likes watching Benny work not just because he likes watching Benny in general, but because there are results to all that. Bubbling and colors changing and smoking and sometimes, Maran being shoved away while he dashes something between tongs over to the sink.

Unfortunately, it’s not that riveting all the time. Maran’s bored already an hour in, kicks at Benny’s chair a bit to make him aware. Then when that doesn’t get a reaction, he kicks off a sigh every few minutes. 

Then, finally: “Wanna grab scran after this?”

“Mhm?”

Maran narrows his eyes and frowns. “Food.” No response. “Ben. M’gonna go join the circus.”

“Hm.”

 “M’gonna jump off a fuckin’ cliff.” 

Another long pause, and then the same noise. Repeated less like a question, and more as if he thinks he’s supplying to a conversation: “Mhm.”

Maran spins in place with another deep-chested huff. He always feels a bit bad bringing along something to distract, like a game. Because not being able to give full focus to a single thing, important as it was, felt like revisions sometimes. 

He spins again, tilting back so hard in the chair it nearly upends him. Torn between his desire to let Benny focus and the need to reroute his brain somewhere more pleasant, Maran walks himself back and forth behind his lab stool. Sometimes repetitive noises like that grab Benny’s attention, make him twitchy and reach out to pause whatever Maran’s doing, let him know. 

His focus doesn’t waiver. He’s so fucking tuned in, hunched slightly; Maran pauses and goes a bit off…somewhere, staring at the line of his shoulders in the white fabric. Goes so off that he jumps in place when Benny abruptly stands. 

Maran pinches his mouth in hard, brows descending. All he’s doing is getting up to take something off the shelf and rinse it under disinfectant at the sink.

Look at me, Maran thinks at the back of his head. He hones in on the cute cowlick there, where it spirals in messily. Hmph. 

As Benny starts to return to his seat, his path is suddenly blocked by the rolling chair. Maran puts his cheek to the smooth black countertop, pleasantly cold, and pretends to be interested in the test tubes’ contents. When Benny skirts around him their knees knock together. Nothing else touches, to Maran’s disappointment. Hmph, he thinks again.

Benny sets back to it with just as much intensity, flipping pages and muttering under his breath. His pretty mouth set in a grimly focused line that Maran wants to kiss. Instead, he lifts his head and contemplates the imprint of his face on the counter, trailing a finger through its moisture as it evaporates away. Then he tucks his fist under his chin and looks over across handwritten sticky notes, highlighted print outs, and an open book with rough-edged pages. He focuses on the knuckles holding a pen. Grins. 

He waits for Benny to clean out the next round of flasks, waits for the sink to shut off, waits for the first step back towards him, to speak:

“Ben, would y’consider chokin’ me and taking a picture?” Maran asks, wheeling himself across the room with a solid push. 

There’s a soft plunk-pop. When he rotates around with a tiny, flourishing spin, Ben’s standing there with a broken tube between his boots.

“The fuck’s wr-wrong with you.”

“Just askin’ questions.”

He points down at the pieces of glass. “If I h-hadn’t just dumped that out we’d both be dead.”

Maran pouts. “Fucking bummer.”

Benny slinks back into his seat with a grumble and one last glance at Maran out of the corner of his eye. Got under his skin with that one, he can tell; it’s funny to him that just a single comment earned him more than thirty minutes of moderate annoyances. He files the information away neatly. 

*

He settles for another hour as requested. Grits his teeth about it. He gets fidgety as hell as the minutes tick by, but he does stay mostly quiet. He’d also like to say he stays out of Ben’s space.

When they leave, it’s nearly one in the morning. 

His arm tucks around Benny’s shoulders as he keys the code in, locks up for the night. The shared body heat is more than nice. Good and right in a way he can’t really describe.  It’s not just the convenience of their heights, Benny’s jacket holding warmth better than his and offering it back between their ribs. It’s that it’s Benny’s warmth and jacket and teasing slap to his temple when he asks: “Was I too annoying?”

“You’re not allowed to c-come here again.” Benny snaps without heat. 

“Again.” Maran snorts pointedly, tucking his hands into his pockets and shrugging when Ben glares at him. “Right, ‘cuz technically it’s been once.” 

Ben glares at him. “Do not.”

As if the innuendo isn’t obvious, Maran hitches his eyebrows up and presses his tongue between his teeth.“Me comin’ here.”

It’d had been back at the beginning of the semester. Risky; not late enough in autumn for students to stop caring about classes and responsibilities as much. Being bent over the counter, hand around him to stop his sensitive cock from pressing too uncomfortably against the edge, was a bit of a gamble. He had a feeling that was a big part of it, judging by how filthy Benny’s mouth had spilled against his cheek. 

Maran blinks away the memory. 

“They’re anything in your chemical safety lab sheets about —” He tops that with an obscene motion.

“You’re pushing it.”

Maran stops walking. His ever-present smile around Benny hints suddenly obscene at that tone, eyebrows even higher. Hopefully as eager as he feels. “Am I?” 

“Mar.” 

“Ooh. That was a proper warning,” Maran sing-songs, slipping a feline dance back into Benny’s personal space. He winds his arms around his neck. “Talkin’ too much?”

Benny rolls his eyes, glancing away from him off across the dark campus. There’s a streetlight flickering down the hilly road. It makes them look prettier than usual, the yellow reflecting on pale again and again like a hypnotizing code. I’m being fuckin’ brainwashed, Maran blinks back at him, dizzy. You are brainwashing me, dude.

“Y-You could say that.” He looks at Maran again. It makes his chest constrict. “Gonna cash in on a helluva fucking d-debt, babe.”

Maran smirks and leans forward to press their mouths together quickly. “Yeah, how big?”

Now it’s Benny’s turn to react to his tone. His eyes crinkle when he laughs hard like that, so Maran scoots himself in, trainers scuffing against the sidewalk. His arm goes tighter, lifting up on onto unnecessary tiptoe for another kiss. It’s short again. Gentle and genuinely very nice.

Not quite what we’re goin’ for, Ben, he thinks, and fists a hand into the front of Benny’s shirt, tugging him so hard he stumbles. Their chests press together.

“Maran,” he sighs, “the f-fuck is up with you?” 

“You have got to be kidding me, Ben.” Maran breathes against his jaw. He smiles against the shiver under his lips as he kisses a line to Benny’s ear. His nose nudges against the piercings before his mouth fits there. “Actually, I got one more thing to say.”

He imagines someone passing by, staring across the street, seeing them. Imagines himself not overwhelmed with what might be expected, shit like embarrassment or shame or concern. Instead, he feels a devastatingly sweet curl of moodiness between his eyes: nobody fucking look over here. Don’t look at him, especially. I know, okay? So don’t look as close as I do. Don’t look at fucking all. And if you do look, make sure you see me here too. 

“M’kay,” Benny groans. Both of his hands come up to cradle the back of Maran’s head. “B-but you should probably pause real quick and consider your choice of w-words.”

Maran nods, kissing down and up his neck quickly like he can’t help it. “Right, okay. Sorry. Will do. Pausing. ”

He waits a comedically short beat before sliding his mouth back in place. It starts with, I want, which is what Maran’s been considering all night, really.

*

He’s distantly aware of the panting gasps, repeated and repeated until it feels like the only thing to hang onto, the only thing solid in his floaty head.

“Yes, yes, Ben, yeah, yes.” He realizes they’re his with a puff of air. He can’t quite manage a laugh at the moment.

It’s a brutal pace; been a brutal pace, maybe even particularly so. Maran’d be lying to say that it hadn’t been tactfully done, that he had…presented the request, so to speak. And he’d also be lying to say the responding expression wasn’t at least a bit expected.

With a stuttering, breathless whimper, Maran’s head goes loose on his shoulders. He clutches at the sheets, scratches at the forearm in his grip, shoves himself back. There’s a low, raspy moan over his shoulder that makes him feel even more unsteady, if possible. A whine slithers up his throat, so Maran turns his face into the bed and lets it out near-silent. Heat replaces it; like it’d snuck in his parted lips, settled in where that tiny noise had been. The warmth coils in him, everything writhing and blissfully loose. 

Warmth literally in him, too, which had been the whole point this time. Still, it’s so specific a sensation, one that he’s not nearly expecting, that he hiccups breathily in shock.

“Fuck, Ben.” His gasp is quiet, pleasantly surprised. Hot-cold-hot by the slam of suddenly unignorable want that lodges a pit in his stomach. He hadn’t known — “Ffffuck, you can feel it?”

“Oh.” Benny grunts, grip tighter, tighter, tighter on Maran’s hips. Makes them buck, and that in turn makes those fingers go even meaner to hold him still. Their desire is always like that. Cyclical. “Christ, Maran. F-fuck you.”

Maran squirms with laughter, panting and rubbing his face into the sheets. He’s right there; so fucking close it aches all in his gut like a fresh bruise. He goes to say that. Tell Benny as much, how close he is, to beg for it. But he barely gets his nose to the side, his shoulders rolling, before one of Benny’s hands slips upwards to cinch around the back of his neck.

His cheek smushes against the mattress. Mouth opening loose on a panting inhale, Maran’s own hand jerks to shove knuckles between his teeth. Except — his arm is caught just a few centimeters away. Pinned. Held in a vice to the soft bunch of sheets. Feels a bit humiliated to find that duality as hot as he does, so he’s blushing hard as Benny grinds forward and the orgasm throttles through him. Starts at the base of his skull against that ring of fingers and zips like super-heated liquid down his spine. Zap. Sinks to his stomach with that bruise-like ache and twitches his cock. 

There’s only the pinching bite to his lip to muffle the noise he makes at those two grips, at the pressure and heat of it all. He locks up with a shiver, eyes unfocusing on pale fingers denting the flesh of his arm before they roll back and see nothing.

Maran hopes the next time they open, there are five reddening ovals to look at. 

*

There are. Maran taps at them absentmindedly with his own fingers. He’s sticky all fucking over; worst between the thighs in a way that makes him shy even thinking about. 

“Guess, I mean —” Maran scrubs a hand over his face, laughing. He feels how warm it still is, wet with tears too. He brushes his thumbs through the streaks. “Theoretically, you know?” 

“Please.” It comes as a groan from the pillow, makes him snort hard. Makes him — or something else does — reach over and pet his hand over the back of Benny’s head. “Maran.”

Yeah, something else. His heart thuds a bit at the sound of his name from the other man, from a voice that’s hoarse from talking. Fucking lots of it. Saying all manner of things. Sometimes Benny’ll go at him and say shit that spears into his brain. And then someone will mention one of those same words later. Innocently. Completely different conversation. Certainly not the same context. And then Maran will feel like he’s gone absolutely mental.

“Love you.” Maran’s content sigh  is met by another groan. Benny smacks the cushion with the bottom of his fist several times. “Fuck, that was good.”

Now that hand slaps blindly at him. It connects  — fucking softly — several times with his arm, his scalp, his chest. Between sweaty, clumped strands of hair, Maran can see the tips of Benny’s ears have gone full of color. 

He could go again, he really fucking could. 

“Why are you so fucking hot? And cute at the same time?” What’s it say about him, that he’s about to be successful in keying himself up like this? Staring at Benny, that’s all.  Eyes roving over the slick skin of his back, lingering especially at the shoulders were slowly raising lines of red blossom up. 

Ah, yeah. You’ve done it.

He can’t help the nasty grin that flits over his mouth. He dims it somewhat. Hopes the cheek isn’t as obvious when it touches gently to Benny’s heaving back. Pride warms through him immediately. Feels like stepping into the sun in the summer. Feels like Benny insisting he needs a proper American summer: watching him toss a sneering grin over his shoulder as he uses a spar stained hotplate to grill them all hotdogs, peer down his nose when Maran lands a water balloon square to his chest, teasingly snap Maran’s shorts, slide a slushy-blue tongue against his while they sneakily paw at each other behind the shed.

Feels like — well. Yeah. Loves him.

Maran’s grin is softer. But he bites Benny’s shoulder hard. 

“Ow, asshole,” he huffs without any sort of anger-heat. Sounds like he’s smiling, actually — Maran clenches his jaw again, growling playfully. Look at me. Show me. 

Benny does. Tilts his head to the side, cheek pressed to the pillow. He’s got that soft, pretty, really fucking nice one on. Maran’s never been hit over the head cartoonishly with a shovel, but he figures it feels similar.

His air catches in his chest. “Forgot what I was going to say, Ben. Wow. Fuck off.”

It gets harder to breathe still, because he knows that Benny blushes like that and he’s seeing it so close. Maran mouths a slew of protests and silent curses. How dare you, fucking cute, so fucking cute, come off it, unfair! 

A hand flexes in frustration near his cheekbone, shakes in the air, before cupping it.

Benny snorts. “I’m sure it was something theoretical?”

His eyes pop open in recollection. “Oh, yeah. That I liked it because I didn’t realize it was like that on the other end. Y’know. It feels good. Intimate?” He snorts, leans up on an elbow. “It’s good, y’know, the other way, but I always sort of wondered. Grass is greener, or whatever, hah—!”  

Benny groans raggedly as he talks, hand sliding up his face first before it shoves Maran away by the face. That palm goes over his mouth briefly in a way that makes his stomach flip as he falls to the bed, theatrically splayed. With sneaky wiggles, he presses up against Benny again. He’s not being watched, that hand again covering icy eyes, but Benny lets him do it anyway — even lifts an arm to let Maran wind his under it.

There’s a beat of silence.

“I really liked it.”

“Maran. M-Man, please.” 

“I love you.” He chuckles, and then his cheeks swim with pink. “Ah. Twice now, huh? That’s like, daft as hell to say, right, if it’s literally just after someone’s gone and given you a massive —”

Benny slaps a hand over his mouth.

[lhostgil]

Watching Kurt execute complex routines as part of training in the Danger Room with a performer's bold dramatic flair, coupled with a dancer's heart-stirring grace, always left Logan breathless; stunned to complete silence.

Even with his extensive memory--as prone as it was to forgetting bits and pieces of his life--spanning several lifetimes, he could not remember a time he'd been more enamoured with anyone and the way they moved. Yet, when it came to the elfin teleporter, the stocky mutant could not help but have his attention drawn to every little action, gesture, or step completed by the other.

Be it on the field or during stretches of respite away from the chaos of battle; Kurt carried himself with a lightness that allowed his movements to flow effortlessly from one to another as if he was swaying along to a rhythmic melody that only those delicately pointed ears could hear. In any case, it evoked an ethereal sensuality that was alluring and exciting to the senses.

Truthfully, had any of their mystical associates said that unworldly power ebbed out Kurt with every step; Logan supposed that he might just believe that.

After all, was it not in many other parts of the world that dance had traditionally been acknowledged and accepted as a form of ceremonial ritual that could summon the gods or receive divine blessings and messages? If anyone among them could do so, it surely had to be the teleporter who moved with both his heart and mind as one. That lithe, taut body that most would dismiss as weak or insignificant in comparison to everyone else next to him was far stronger than many realised; even Logan himself knew, just how often that fact slipped his mind.

Yet, with such a fantastical display that stirred delight and passionate warmth; it too dredged out a cold, poisonous foreboding that whispered:

'Had things been fairer, if the world was a much better place, you wouldn't be here putting yourself at great risk of death or grievous injury. You are someone who should live happily and simply be just as you are; instead, your gifts are squandered, wasted on a stage that hungers for your death.'

Despite not expressing anything more than a grunt; the fury in his heart seethed when he heard the telepathic call to duty--another day where the team was to gather and be ready to move out so that they could be where they were needed as the X-Men.

'If only there would be a time and place where you could dance freely to your heart's desire, Elf. Where you could express the depths of your being without fear, shame, or worry...'

Because Logan was not as simple minded as most took him to be; though he was content to act the part, since it granted him the privilege of getting away with things that could be attributed to being a mindless brute.

Kurt was not a bird to be locked in a cage for anyone's entertainment or a soul who could--would--be made to settle with promises of power. Neither was he a person who should be bound with the trappings of duty or obligation.

He was just Kurt.

Someone who had the right to live happily for himself as he pleased.

Like any other person.

The X-Man that is Wolverine thinks that as long as the missions they are sent on are completed successfully; then, of course, they are one step closer towards such a world. The man behind that codename--the human that is Logan knows all too well...

"Liebchen!"

The stocky mutant raised his head towards the direction of the voice, pulled out of the abyss of his thoughts; candle flame gold meets piercing blue eyes, and just that brief glance is enough.

'People here condemn peacocks as vain, often associating them with the sin of pride. Yet how could their narrow minds ever hope to realise--that in other parts of the world...or that throughout antiquity, before that saying was popularised...'

Kurt descended gracefully into his arms; had the teleporter worn something with a train, Logan was certain it would have flared out like the fan of a peacock's stunning tail plumes.

'That such a noble bird carries a multitude of meanings tied to divinity in the form of immortality or omniscience? Or that they too symbolise wisdom in other cultures? Likewise Elf, your dramatic flair and showmanship; they are only a part of you and not you in your entirety.'

"Liebchen?"

He returned to soft, lambent eyes gazing into his; their tender glow like that of the moon's gentle light on him. "Nothing, Elf. We should get going."

"You can put me down, Schatzi."

"Can I carry you?"

For a moment, the half-smile on Logan’s face almost cracked into a grin on seeing the other’s stunned expression. It spread into a wide smile, however, when the teleporter's face leaned closer to his; the tips of their noses almost touching.

"Of course, Liebchen. Though you'll have to settle me down at my seat on the Blackbird later."

Logan let out a huff of a chuckle; he tilted his head further to close the remaining distance between them, such that they could feel the warmth of each other's breath on their skin. "That goes without saying, Elf."

"You're incorrigible."

"You love it."

"Indeed, I do." Came the admittance in a sigh, followed by a kiss--that Logan felt to be too short and too swift--to the forehead.

"Elf?"

"Hm?"

"Try not to crash the Blackbird, will you?"

Logan did not continue with the joinder that hung on the tip of his tongue; 'because when you did, you got everyone safe but yourself. As if of all of us, your ability outside of teleporting is not the most reliant on your physical condition.'

However, as he got up to leave after ensuring that Kurt’s seatbelt was fastened; the latter slyly murmured into his ear--

"Of course, Meine Geliebter. I do want to be alive for longer to continue seeing your dazed look that makes it seem as though I've got your heart on a string."

I hope this little offering is enjoyable to read; I apologise for any mistakes as this was completed in a bout of sleeplessness. @waldmaerchen

They are a absolute show off but that’s fine because they get a little boop to the nose.

Someone please ease my soul with a fanfic, a prompt, a short essay of Logan then NOT putting Kurt down, grinning and just walks him off like this to the jet, up the stairs and everything, Kurt laughing when Logan puts him in his chair, puts the seatbelt on and sits down himself and they are chuckling the whole time.

[weresolvingsociety]

The European Investment Bank froze activities in Ukraine,[118] saying, “For the time being, the situation is so cruel that it would be politically the wrong signal, but also irresponsible vis-a-vis the people we asked to do the job, to be active on business in Ukraine.”[119]

In early 2022, my cynicism was on high alert. Impotence in American culture faced with obvious corruption was widespread, and promptly rationalized and repressed in a humiliatingly weak manner for the people of my country. I mocked the situation in what semblance of good faith I could, saying that Americans should text in to revolt. I felt both a nausea and a scathing, vitriolic derision at my fellow Americans thinking about phones littered with the words, “I revolt,” as they texted in to ‘the revolution’ and thought nothing more of it.

“What a funny woman!” I heard. Only a few months later, the infamously pathetic deal would be initiated wherein Twitter would be bought by Elon Musk for 44B, only for him to initiate surely what he thought was an ingenious plan of determining what was and wasn’t “real information” based on the blue check, while scrying for trade secrets on that matter barely disguised as criticism and investigation into Fauci. In his attempt to seem like a legitimate democratic presence, he ran a poll that promptly revealed his unpopularity. He tried to bury that post, but I reposted it to make it clear a fool who pried open government coffers for supposed space exploration only to spend in a good portion of it on what he personally viewed as “funny” was a true threat to democracy, far worse than the denialist Joe Biden was capable of hitting home. In addition, Twitter is a well known test field of how the most active voters think and act, showing his power hunger and need to affect elections. Finally, giving him a monopoly over private account access (the illegality of which Elon Musk is notorious for disregarding merely from sheer vanity) as well as the data he might want or need in that regard seemed to be a big sell for Elon as well. Seeing that his power was not sufficient to stay the effects of his unpopularity, Elon Musk staged a fake step down only to emerge seething again with his capricious and arbitrary attempt to limit access to information in his own personal North Korean blackout fantasy originating in both narcissistic rage and certainty that he could get it too if it would all just slow down. This revealed at last he never respected his new female CEO, and hot on the heels of his disrespectful and violating tantrum on her authority Barbie came out, trying to drive home that same message from the highly affected and enraged position of a man failing feminist class; making a mockery of feminism while seemingly complimenting it, in the style the ‘friend’ in seething jealous rage who tells the woman she’s envious of that she must enjoy having access to such a “large potential sample size” in men willing to make themselves available to her, the implications of conservative contempt there hardly hidden. This ‘friend’ of this vitriolic barely disguised bastion of envy should of course be glad because she clearly respected her fellow female scientist. Not.

In contrast to the ogling narcissistic rage of Barbie, Maidan offers a balm for those few of us who held back vomit instead of stuffed our faces watching the piss poor attempt to seem like an ally. “Our strength is our dignity,” the announcer in Maidan insists. “Without dignity, a nation is nothing.” The logical implication is of course without strength, a nation is nothing. As I looked over at this barely disguised backwards complement mockery of intersectional feminism in a cinema lined with mosaics of clearly black Egyptian queens, I remembered the hypocrisy. During the Seattle International Film Festival 2023, a disabled black woman in a walker had come up to me to say the the SIFF crew had patently ignored her need to move to the front because she couldn’t stand in her walker very long. Just to tell them this she stood in line, much less to wait for the volunteer training. Finally, she could no longer bear it and came to me (I was just another line-waiter at the time, but I deeply treasure being so trusted). I told her that I would figure out what was going on, the irony of her being ignored as a black woman in the SIFF Egyptian not lost on me. I saw exactly the instantiation of what the Ukrainian announcer meant; a disgusting people, where disgusting means without dignity. A people stuffing their faces as a mockery of depression was made that barely disguised Hollywood writers helping themselves to HIPAA violations of those women who attracted their “muse” piggish parasitism in the style that the poor and unfortunate Barbie might. I was reminded of the film Illusions about a Hollywood executive who passes for white due to her features is secretly black, and who immediately loses the sexual attentions of her insistent harassers after they find out about her true heritage. In that movie, she states, “We have plenty of writers, and not many good ideas.” And so, as the illness of uncreativity seethed in the clutches of men like Elon, had they begun to help themselves to encrypted medical records so pathetically stripped with fertile ideas as they may be? Hollywood doesn’t have to obey the law, until they do…just like a black executive of Illusions can be viewed as attractive, until she can’t. I worried that such a piggish people could not be trusted with Ukranian female refugees, often widely hailed as some of the most beautiful women on this earth…who would certainly come to the states with the exact same beauty and the exact same depression, OCD, anxiety based on torturous evil from the homicidal jealousies of Putin’s women and the rapacious ogling of Putin and his henchmen alike.

My thoughts on this were proven correct when I tried to fundraise for Ukraine, and asked for accommodations of a split shift due to chronic fatigue. The individuals were enraged that they could not make as much money on me. They insisted they couldn’t split the shift, and then when I cited disability accommodations they spewed a pathetic litany of vitriol at me, insisting they couldn’t pay me for training because I was “trying to siphon money from the company” as I never actually fundraised but only trained due to quitting on their failure to accommodate. IRC was equally disgusted at their tantrum that they did not get to make as much as they hoped off me, and pulled their partnership. Barbie reminds me of if those same individuals seethed in the shadows until they could have their day in the sun, with no empathetic ability to be remorseful despite in the field of nonprofit but insistent that there was money to be made on me and my body, my disabilities be damned.

For, why should someone do their own work when they can just pay for someone else to do it? As I take a plagiarist to court as she deeply shames her African community with her undignified descent into lies and denial over her narcissistic rage in being unable to pay as little as $200, I think of her when I hear the words “white savior” for a job I never wanted. She embodied jealous rage at my existence that resulted in constant changes of her makeup and hair to be more similar to mine as we continued to work together and her rage and jabs continued to grow. Her need to insist that she wasn’t jealous seems to be marked all over Barbie, and they all fall flat…literally. As she and her family continue to stalk me, even her lawyers seemed disturbed by the obvious. “I’m not jealous! I’m not jealous!” is all I hear in characters that cheapen white women, trying to convince themselves more than anyone. As my stalker and plagarist spends another 10k to rationalize her delusions as to the fact she had any good reason to not pay me $200 during the time when she had gone full steam in forcing me to write her content (which I was forced to report for labor extortion to her school), I wonder how narcissistic rage ever gets that entrenched, like Nazi Germany’s plans to drill into the center of the earth. No matter what I research, the emitted plumes of cancerous, thick columns of death’s smoke never makes sense of such a homicidal envy…be it in Russian women, Eritrean women, Japanese women, Indian women or Chinese women. Or mixed race men, for that matter. Her rationale was the insistence that she could write just like me and that she only paid me because I had gotten there first. Has anyone else seen such narcissistic rage? Instead of celebrating and compensating for doing well, she claws from a pit of anger absolutely certain she is me in underdog version. And the same is true of Elon, who clearly thinks he can “level the playing field” if it would all slow down. What should the Russians do, now that their tech is discovered to be a vain front for excellence? Shout across the battlefield, “Slow down Ukraine, so we can pillage your land a little better!” The absurdity is unreal. They and those like them all seem to have reached a forty-four billion dollar fever pitch; there is no other way to describe it than pathetic.

[alexanderlightweight]

Hi! I feel a little bad prompting two weeks in a row, but if you feel up to it could you maybe do some more stuff with the sentient shadow au? I love it so much, I would love to see the progression of Alec and Magnus’ relationship (maybe through an outside pov, if you want).

I hope you have fun with this and enjoy your Wednesday!

here we go! also no worries, plenty of people prompt every week and there is nothing wrong with that. the prompts are all happy things for me, not burdens. so don't feel bad kay? plus i love starting to recognize names of those who prompt!

i'm greatly enjoying this wednesday and the last ones! i hope you are doing well and having a good day!

hope you enjoy

lumine

-

“I cannot believe you!” Magnus seethes the moment Alec is gone and Ragnor sighs and takes a deep puff of his pipe. “How could you have been hiding such a delectable treasure from me?”

“Magnus, I have a contract and an oath that restrict me.” Which is something of an over exaggeration but Ragnor is tired and he doesn’t want to deal with Magnus’ outrage.

There’s a huff and finally Magnus settles for a moment before he adds, “so what is he like?”

“Aren’t you going to want to find out on your little ‘thank you’ dinner?” Ragnor teases and it earns him a cold, sharp eyeroll. “Fine, ducky. Ruin my rare fun. The lad’s incredibly intelligent and calculating, or at least he normally is. It seems you rather turn his thoughts around.”

Magnus almost looks unbearably smug at that, but Magnus wears smug well and so Ragnor sighs and just relights his pipe.

“He’s both incredibly perceptive and incredibly sheltered about certain things.”

“Like?” Magnus demands, summoning himself a glass of whiskey as he gives Ragnor a viciously impatient look.

“Like casual intimacy. Or consider the power of touch, of which he knows little of. Alec lives in relative isolation from other people in the embrace of his powers. They’ve always protected and comforted him, and he relies on them, which mean very few are allowed to approach him.”

“They’re not merely powers.” Magnus muses and Ragnor nods his head, unable to say more due to oaths but wanting to warn Magnus. Alec himself isn’t the only obstacle in this that Magnus will face, Alec’s shadows will be the true obstacle. 

“I’m sure I can woo the entirety of him,” Magnus drawls smugly and he gives Ragnor a curious look. “What do they like?”

“They’re hungry, Magnus. Greedy and powerful and they only care for Alec. They’re incredibly dangerous and not to be underestimated, even by you.”

—

Magnus shows up nearly every day after that for a week, as if he’s hoping Alec will drop by again, which was rare enough the first time.

Finally, after much exasperation, Ragnor has had enough.

“Why not just go to the New York Institute, instead of portaling all the way over here?” Ragnor questions, cross after Magnus has come over and stolen the last of Ragnor’s favorite biscuits. A specific type that are warded by their baker against being summoned.

Ragnor will have to request a new delivery by fire message and he scowls at the additional work. He’d been hoping to avoid that until the next day at least.

“What do you mean the New York Institute?” Magnus drawls, “why would I go over there when I want to see my darling Alexander? Not some boring cannon fodder hunters.”

“Because your darling,” Ragnor says rolling his eyes, “is the Head and Commander of the New York Institute, Magnus. Weren’t you paying attention? I did mention it.”

“It wasn’t as important as getting him to agree to dinner—” Magnus tells him. “And you haven’t mentioned again at any point in this last week because?”

“Frankly, I have better things than just assume that you no longer listen to me at all.” Ragnor retorts and he summons a new cup of tea with a sigh. “I’m far too tired for all this nonsense Magnus, go woo the lad and come back once you have your boy. Perhaps with your influence, I’ll see him more than a handful of times a year.”

“Oh, you’ll be seeing plenty of him.” Magnus promises with a leer and Ragnor flicks him with magic.

“No! I’ve helped raise that lad since he was a wee one, Magnus. I’ll not have you telling me about how you plan to deflower him or anything else. This is one relationship where you will have to rely on Cat alone to pander compliments to your ego. Bring the lad around for tea and know that you’ll be staying clothed in my abode.”

“Deflower?”

Ragnor groans wishing he’s said defile and knowing he’s about to hit every one of Magnus’ possessive, covetous and prideful instincts with his words.

“The lad’s not shy Magnus. He doesn’t blush, he doesn’t stutter, he doesn’t get entranced. This isn’t a normal reaction for him. I’m fairly certain there is a graveyard somewhere dedicated to people who made the mistake of hitting on him. Alec generally considers it a nuisance. I hope you can understand what I mean and treat him well.”

Ragnor doesn’t say anything else, because he’s said enough and while he’ll step in if he feels he needs to, he trusts Magnus enough to let him try first.

“Thank you, Ragnor. Even if you did let me suffer for a week.”

Ragnor rolls his eyes and waves his hand in farewell as Magnus portals away.