#//but google knows so now I think I'm enlightened

[bakugoushotwife]

kinktober day fifteen: brat-taming kink

>>> god bless i love him so bad...brain rot for this plot...y'all should i make this one like a series fdskjkjgjkgj i swear to god i'm feeling this way about all my fics as of late!! this one has a lot of japanese symbolism and traditions included. i am not japanese and all my research came from different sources across google, but if anything is incorrect or insensitive pls reach out and let me know <3

>>> starring: suguru geto x curvy!f!reader >>> cw: brat-taming, history/pining between reader and geto, face-fucking (m!receiving) edging (f!receiving), fingering (f!receiving), breeding, degradation/praise, pet names, creampie >>> wc: 4.6k >>> event masterlist:

he didn’t love the idea, to say the least. he understands why a marriage is necessary. it humanizes him, makes him relatable, opens the door to more preaching topics. he didn’t understand why he had to marry his fellow sorcerer and old classmate—especially one as mouthy as you. you didn’t either, forced into it by the higher ups with hopes you could bring suguru back to the right side of history, not taking your feelings into the matter at all, not that you expected them to. but you’re sure they already knew you wouldn’t be able to complete this mission—perhaps they hoped for your death at his hand.

at one point, you were friends. now, you were about to become the unwilling misses geto, though even that was more complicated than it seems. you were the third musketeer back in the day. even shoko preferred to stay out of the boys’ shenanigans, sticking to herself or utahime, not bothered in the slightest to let you chase after satoru and suguru. you were closer to the latter, finding it easy to gang up on the former together. he entertained your  wit and you let him try out new moves on you. you loved each other. that’s why it hurt so bad—still hurts to this day—that he left and turned into this. and now you’re stuck in the thick of it. 

you make him beyond angry. putting aside your utter disrespect and disobedience, you remind him of nothing but conflicting times, things he’d rather not think about now that those days were supposed to be far behind him. you hadn’t changed a bit from the day he left, and he hates that even more. you’re lively and talented, your powers long abused by the very higher ups that contributed to his madness and the ones that leveraged you into this ceremony. when he was told of your engagement, he could have refused and had them find him a new wife. he could have killed them all and refused this altogether—he’s not quite sure why he said yes. he pulls on his hakama trousers, smoothing at the pleats as he racks his brain. he slings his haori around his shoulders, and he realizes a small part of him may have always wanted to marry you; he remembers fantasies of you in high school, recalling how badly he yearned for your affection. and he hates that more than anything. 

he knows you feel similarly about him, hence all your acting up. you had been short and cold and almost satoru level snotty with him through the engagement parties and wedding planning and obligatory dinners. you have the nerve to sneer as you speak and look at him with nothing but disgust. he’s the one who should be disgusted with you. you chose to stay with gojo over him, chose that world of lies and injustice when you could have been enlightened like him from the beginning. it’s only fitting you’re his bride, really. it’s what he deserves, as retribution for your betrayal. and he would make sure to claim what was his on his wedding night. the servants come to get him as he shrugs into his montsuki with a new smug smile replacing what was a dreading frown.

you wore a red iro-uchikake. and you look like a dream he had when he was a teenager. it’s ironic really. he knows not wearing the more traditional and all white shiromuku was another one of your jabs, but the color red was more significant to him than white. it means life, it wards off all evils. perhaps you knew that too, and that’s why you chose the color, though geto remembers you wearing the deep blood color often enough through adolescence that seeing you in it again makes some of the tightness in his chest let off just a little bit, even as you avoid his eyes. 

he looked magnificent. his hair had grown longer, and you had always liked to play with it before, but now it cascades over his shoulder in waves despite the top-bun halving the thickness. you could hear your heart pound. if you were to tell the second year version of yourself that you would be sharing a wedding temple with suguru geto, you may have cried from relief and happiness. but as you get closer to him with no guests to witness this other than the priest and a handful of temple ladies, you feel the coursing energy of excitement and nerves. you aren’t sure what to expect from him now that no one will be watching. you don’t even truly know how he feels for you. he has been making attempts to earn your favor, but that was because he had a crowd. 

he takes your hand and smiles down at you like he did when you were much younger and much less conflicted over your feelings. it makes your heart flutter like it used to, and your eyes widen a bit at his gentility. the priest offers his blessings to the gods as you two stand before him, hand-in-hand. your mind races. how much of this is real? and even if he’s being genuine, does it really matter? after everything he put you through, all the things he had done, the things he wants to do, can you look past it all just to love him anyway? 

the temple servants set up the sakazuiki. they space the three ceremonial cups evenly apart, and fill them with the richest sake. san-san-kudo. you bite your lip, hating yourself for your doubt. suguru gently pulls you out of your head and towards the table, to the binding ceremony of old tradition. he picks up the first cup, holding it to his face. 

“you look beautiful, okusan.” he smirks over the cup, looking oddly satisfied with himself, like he knows something you don’t. he then sips the first cup three times, holding your eyes. you feel your body burn, looking down at the kimono you chose and back to him. his fingers lightly brush against yours as you take the cup. you feel butterflies. 

“thank you, geto-san.” you tilt your head down to indicate your grace, thoughts fuzzied by his intense stare and old feelings bubbling up your gut. you sip three times, and he picks up the next sakazuiki. he chuckles, and you swear you see a little bit of light in his deep eyes. 

“are you waiting for titles until the conclusion of the ceremony, anata?” he piles on the mulit-meaning endearment, passing you the second cup. you nearly choke on your sake. 

“no. you look very nice, uchi no hito.” you take your final sip, and it’s geto’s turn to stammer. he expected a tsureai or muko, but the one you chose had so much meaning. your home, your person. that’s what you called him. he knew the shock and wonder had to show on his face based off of your smug grin whenever you set the cup down. you think you can toy with him, pull stunts with him. you’re much too bold—and he wants to hate it, he wants to smother that personality right out of you, but for now–he’ll let himself love it. 

“this binds us through our love, wisdom, and happiness.” he says the words to bring you together officially, tying your souls together for better or worse. he sips from the final cup three times, the symbolism not lost on you, and passes it to you to do the same. 

“this binds us through our hatred, passion, and ignorance.” you look him in the eyes as you take your drinks, and his dark pink lips stretch into a wide smile. 

“and now you are mine. how lucky we are to be brought back to each other in this way.” he chums, taking the wedding rings from his pocket as the priest continues offering his prayers to the skies. you hold out your hand expectantly, and he arches a brow. 

“nine is not a lucky number, perhaps we’re cursed instead.” you shrug, that same smugness tugging at your lips. oh, you’re going to drive him crazy. you give him hope and you pull it away, you jab at him and you’re so gorgeous that he can’t even be upset with you for it. he slides the diamond encrusted with black gems down your third finger, giving you a smug smile of his own. he can play dirty too. he extends the box to you and you pluck his gold band from it, sliding it slowly down his finger. the excitement builds in your gut as you become more and more okay with whatever this is. you always thought he had a point. the jujutsu society was so horribly fucked up–maybe he was right all along and you were the coward after all. i mean, where did all your loyalty get you? sold off to a dangerous man with hopes to shut you up for good? passed around mission to mission until your body barely functioned anymore? maybe you could turn a blind eye to all his indiscretions, especially when he’s looking at you with such affection in once cold eyes. you still hold his hand in both of yours, and he enjoys the warmth, but you’ve pushed and poked him just enough, these teasing touches part of them. 

instead of a kiss to seal this union once more, he leans down to your ear. “go get changed. i like simple lingerie.” he all but purrs in your ear, sending shivers down your spine at the order. you were losing sight of yourself at a rapid pace. you had hoped to hold out longer than this. his lips tickle the shell of your ear and a soft gasp leaves you. you tell yourself to be strong.

“and if i don’t? you’d be lucky to sleep with me at all, husband.” you sneer, and again he doesn’t know what to make of you, but he’s dedicated to figuring it out. he leans up and tilts his head, analyzing the lust in your eyes and the shakiness in your hands. he laughs at you when he realizes. 

“go get changed, little pet. we’ll discuss your guilt and attitude later.” he shakes his head at you, his gaze making you feel as if you were already undressed before him. he turns, tossing that confident smirk over his shoulder again for good measure. “red is your color.” 

and then the temple girls are at your side, ready to escort their new geto-sama to her new room in the geto estate.. you allow them, trailing silently as you wonder just what he was able to figure out by looking at you, and what lingerie you would put on for him. 

you choose a red babydoll dress. the sheer plunging neckline leaves little to the imagination and the tight fit of the lace leaves even less. it fans out from your body from there, the fluffy hem stopping just below your ass. seeing yourself in the mirror, perched perfectly at the end of the bed, you smile. you imagine that qualifies as simple, though you’re sure it will still make him crazy for you. you’re embarrassed to want that, to dress yourself up and present yourself to him just as he asked. your friends would be ashamed, namely one. but as the door creaks open and you feel an icy stare raking over your body, you can’t quell your excitement. 

he hums approvingly as the door clicks shut behind him. he’s so grateful he didn’t deny this union out of his own narrow minded rage. he never thought he would see you again after you denied him the first time, but here you are, on the bed you two would soon share in his home, now branded with his last name— all wrapped up like a christmas present. 

“sugurin–” the old nickname flies off your tongue in your haste, and a fondness glosses over the devious intent in his eyes. you clear your throat and tug the sides of your dress down pathetically. “i... actually don’t know what to say.” you blink in realization, painfully aware of how alone you two are. was he still the same man you knew? 

“don’t worry, kibōchi.” he returns his own nickname, the way you squirm in your place at the sound of it wasn’t lost on him, though the name puts you at was in the same way it stirs you up. his desire returns at your doe-eyed stare, you trust him to some extent, even through your wariness. “i’ll start. you were assigned to marry me, no?” 

you nod your head, now knowing he wouldn’t hurt you, not with the fondness in which he says your name. your core tingles as he approaches you, a scarily sweet smile on his face.

“good. thank you for your honesty, anata girl.” he nods, sliding his crested black kimono off, the only proper covering of your wedding remaining on his body, for your convenience if anything. “and you’ve been such a brat because…? which is it: you’re mad at them, mad at me, or mad at yourself?” 

you furrow your brows at his words. it seemed he learned everything in just an extended look at you. “am not a brat.” you fold your arms in indignation, incidentally proving him right. he just shakes his head, chuckling again. 

“look at you. you didn’t answer my question and you’re pouting like a toddler.” he lets his gaze drift down to your body just begging for his touch. he can’t help but wonder what you’ll like and what your favorite position will be and how fertile you are and what kind of drive you’ll have, all things he never learned about you when you were just friends. you feel his scrutiny and fight through your mixed feelings to respond. 

“can’t it be a mixture of all three?” you sigh out shakily, deciding to stick to your guns even if you want him, too. 

he clicks his tongue in consideration. “i suppose. but the sorcerers of your past no longer have any influence over your life. and you should be more forgiving to yourself, even if you are being a snot.” 

you scrunch your nose up in distaste, hating how his words soothe your heart. “you conveniently left yourself out of that equation.” you fold your arms and it only pushes your chest out more. you’re impossible, and it’s hard for him not to smirk at you. you’re powerless, he knows and you know it—yet you fight anyway. it’s precious. 

“i don’t regret leaving. i did the right thing.” he says, head held high. his devotion is moving, even when he looks at you with such a mixed bag of emotions. “i missed you however. i accepted this union to see you again.” 

you can tell from his eyes that his emotion is genuine, but it still shoots pangs through your heart as you recall days spent in bed crying over his absence. you turn your head away so the influence of his obsidian stare couldn’t cut so deep. “you left me.” 

“you didn’t join me when i asked you to.” he retorts, clenching his jaw at your argumentative nature. “i came back, just for you.”

“you came back to use me.” you spit, echoing the words of your other classmates. the look in your eyes is angry, this was something you genuinely believed. that infuriates him. “you were going to leverage me, until you provoked him.” 

his jaw ticks again. “and who told you this, satoru? i would have thought you knew me best.” he sighs his disappointment, grabbing your hands. he pulls you off the bed, your knees buckling you into a stand—then he roughly grabs your cheeks to make you look at him. “or did you forget just how close we were? how deeply i loved you then, all the time we spent together? you’re the one who betrayed me. you were mine! mine, you were supposed to be mine and you stayed with him!” his voice rises just a bit with his frustration, but he drops his grip on you and steps back, “i would have done anything to take you with me. and everything…could have been the same, i would have kept you safe and away from this life. We could have had so much more time together—and you’re being so goddamn bratty now that i have you back…what am i to do with you?” 

you blink rapidly at his speech washes over you. did he really mean it, that he just wanted you to have you? you were never intended to be used as a bargaining chip, and you let everyone else warp the vision of the man you once held so dear? you shake your head violently, rejecting the idea. he rakes his hands over his face, fed up with the back and forth. “i’ve compartmentalized you out over the years. but i have you back, and i refuse to waste any more time.” 

“i’m sorry sugurin—i thought you hated me!” you defend, reaching for him. he grabs your wrists again and plants your hands on his chest, moving his touch to your face. 

“then make it up to me.” he orders with a fervent nod, his hold on your face firm but comforting. you surprise him by leaning up and closing the remaining distance to kiss him, balling up his shirt in your fists. you were absolutely insufferable, annoying, bratty, and irritating—but he could do this forever. feeling you move with such passion, vigorously pulling at him and finally giving in to all those pent up feelings was enough to prompt him to do the same.  he memorizes your taste for a while before he pulls away and directs you to your knees with his signature rough handling, though he’s still careful not to hurt you. “i want you to really make it up to me.” 

you nod eagerly and shove your hair over your shoulders while he frees his waiting ache. he can hardly stand the sight of you on your knees under him, massive cock creating a shadow over your obedient and eager face. as gorgeous as you are like this, it was too late to make up for your transgressions. you salivate at the sight of his impressive length standing proud over you, curved and so long he leans to one side with a thickness you know will make even your throat burn. your mouth parts for him immediately, slick sliding down the insides of your thighs at the idea of relieving his drooling slit. “you’re gonna have to open wider than that, okusan.” 

and he helps you do so, planting his broad callused hands firmly on each side of your face, bumping his cockhead against your puffy bottom lip and shoving himself into your silky walls. you moan out in surprise and relax your throat, making your new husband grin at the performance. He’s perhaps unintentionally violent as he sheaths to the hilt, your nose bumping against black coarse hair above his shaft. “there, there.” 

he pats your cheek patronizingly, flicking away a tear that formed. “don’t cry, kibōchi. you were made for this.” he coos affectionately, body growing hot to the touch at his vision. he knew this was a great start to teaching you your place in life, and that being a brat was not one of them. running away was not one of them, you were permanently his and he would never let you go again. he pulls your head back off with that grip to use you, plunging your throat back down on him and biting down on his lip to keep his own sounds from interrupting your gorgeous gags.

“don’t you like this so much better than acting snotty, sweet wife?” he teases only slightly, taking your teary eyes flicking up to look at him as a yes. you can feel him deep, that burning sensation that you knew would come starting to sting your vocal cords. “you take me so well, i’ve always told you sorcery wasn’t for you. this is all you need to do forever.” 

you moan at the idea, him keeping you home to take after the estate and maybe even caring for the kids you may have in the future. he chortles, pleasantly surprised by you yet again. “you think you’re clever, darling. acting all sweet now so i’ll forget all about your behavior, hm?” 

he pulls you off with a lewd pop, pushing at the wimpy straps of your dress with a satisfied hum as the fabric falls away from your chest. “too bad. get on the bed.” 

your heart raced, but you nod. your throat was too hoarse to speak anyway. you weren’t planning anything, you felt like liquid, you had given into your vows and let suguru take you mind, body, and spirit—and he hadn’t even touched you yet. you wobble up to your feet and he slaps your ass when you turn it to him, which makes you gasp and stumble forward. he hums, predatory narrow eyes watching you climb up and lay in the center of the large mattress. he wastes no time in positioning over you. he spits, thumbing his lube over your sensitivity. he pins your fluffy dress up over your stomach, lulling you into sweet moans, your high building in your stomach rapidly. he doesn’t know where to look, you’re all too perfect. the faces you make, your beautiful, slobber-soaked mouth pouting out all your pleasures, your gorgeous tits sitting so prettily in wait for him. then there was your weeping cunt, so pathetically soaked just from sucking him off. 

“su–gu-rin~” you whimper out a little, your legs trying to close around his large body mass as the feeling becomes more intense. he hums, smacking your cunt. 

“brats don’t get to cum.” he shrugs, licking and biting at the insides of your thighs to tease you further. your plush skin is so sensitive, and he loves watching the way you squirm to get away from his canines scraping your flesh. you gasp in anger, orgasm ruined the longer he refuses to touch where you need him most. 

“brat?—you’re really gonna be mean to me, uchi no hito?” you pout, and he can feel his heart pang at the insistence and the sweet way you call him yours. you’re softening his heart already. he still had the want to punish you, but the need to claim you was surely fighting back.

“then apologize for your behavior or you won’t cum at all.” he sits up a bit, tossing some hair over his shoulder. you bat your lashes at him, knowing he was hurt by your choice, just like you were hurt by his. but now there was a chance to make it right, to be together forever like you were meant to–and if you had to apologize for your doubts in him, you would sing them loudly. 

“oh—sugurin, i’m sorry! i really am,” his fingers squeeze and toy with your clit, making your body jump as you try to stutter through your words. “just mi-missed you, that’s all, was mean because i missed y-you!” you writhe and wiggle closer and away from his touch simultaneously, and he hums happily at your speech. 

“that’s better.” he hums approvingly, pushing your legs up to your chest. he wants you to feel this as much and as deeply as possible. “such a good girl, did i tell you how beautiful you look okusan?” 

you nod, feeling the well of nerves heating up in your core, his hands resting on your knees as he looks over the disheveled lingerie. “told me at the wedding…” you sniffle, wiggling your hips for his attention again. 

“i see.” he frowns, as if disappointed by your answer. his hands feel your thighs and trail back to your knees, getting his hands closer and closer to where you needed him most with each pass. you whine desperately, and he hums out in fake curiosity, “what is it, darling?” 

“need you to touch me—please.” you squirm, giving him those irresistible doe-eyes. he planned to make you beg much harder than that, but you had him worked all the way up, your body, behavior, and the history between you was setting him on fire. 

“oh i’ll make you cum, kibōchi.” he moves his grip to the backs of your thighs as he moves his hips forward. you try to prepare yourself but it’s no use, he plunges in without any hesitation or resistance on your part. it aches, you clench down at the spread and his thumb comes back to your clit to rub the pain away. “but you can only do it on my dick. got it?” 

you nod slowly and his hips set a pace. he’s so deep you can barely believe he’s allowed to fuck you like this, the pain melting away to a dull pleasure, different from earlier. his gaze is still white hot and searing, devouring every inch of your body. “you really are so beautiful, sweet okusan. my kibōchi turned perfect cocksleeve, yeah?” he growls into the space between you, his fingers digging into the fat of your skin so hard you know he’ll leave his mark.

that draws a moan out of you, loving the idea of being nothing more than a wife, his partner, something you never thought you’d be once you parted ways. the feeling of him rocking into your body is addicting, and now you know you are capable of looking past anything he’s done or will do just to love him anyway. you would throw all your morals away just for this, and he knows that too. “my pretty little okusan, trying so hard to pretend she didn’t want me. now look, the prettiest you’ve ever been bouncing on me.” 

he leans over your body, deepening his angle and allowing him to pick up his speed. he watches the way your tits bounce at this pace, your eyes rolling back a little as you’re rendered unable to speak again, only lewd smacks of his balls against your ass and his feral grunts to be heard. his hand finds your throat, and his mouth drops open in response to your sweet moans and impossible beauty. you are perfect. he knew you would be, but your pussy was his personal kryptonite. “you feel so good, anata girl. you look even better, stuffed to the brim.” 

he smiles at the double meaning. you are his darling girl, but you are also his exasperating brat. god, he always knew what to say. your jaw falls, gripping his forearms to warn him that you were close. “please—need to cum!”

 he hums, nodding his approval, “then cum, okusan.” he commands, deep voice booming. his spine tingles at the idea of you taking your first round of his seed. his hair falls so angelically around his angular features when you open your eyes, it’s the final push over the edge. you choke out a moan, and then your nails are scraping at his biceps, his shoulders and chest, whatever you can get your hands on, and your release is rushing over his dick seconds later. 

“are you on birth control?” he groans, feeling his cock twitch in between your wet walls. you shake your head, chest heaving deliciously. “good, let’s see how fertile you are.” 

your eyes cross at his statement and his balls feel so heavy, squeezing tight and spurting out their contents against your womb. your head digs into the pillow and his falls back at the feeling of being so full and warm. he keeps his hips rocking, making you gasp with every stroke as he shoves his deposit deeper. You’re both panting when you look at each other, years of unspoken yearning and love being communicated between you. there’s a lot to catch up on, and a lot to relearn about one another, but one thing is certain: this marriage was fated, and not arranged. 

[genericpuff]

Turns out it's been a while since I've talked about Rachel's medical fetish art so it came as a shock to people when I mentioned it in the last post (I've got quite a few asks about it lmao) So I'm gonna enlighten y'all real quick on what I'm referring to, and yes, it's probably exactly what you're thinking of when you hear the word 'medical fetish'.

CONTENT WARNING: DISCUSSION OF MEDICAL FETISH ART AND DEPICTIONS OF NEEDLES!!!!

So the name "used_bandaid" is one Rachel started using back in the early to mid 2000's. She went by a LOT of different pennames back then, including but probably not limited to:

Pepper_maid

madame_issue

Usedbandaid/used_bandaid

Rach Alex

Rachel Royale

Raquel

Medical Tophat/Medical_Tophat

Frill_house

Gingerbreadcoffin (? this one's kinda weird because the link itself with this username just goes back to her used bandaid MySpace account , so idk if she ever actually used it or if it was even affiliated with her lol)

Now you're probably about to ask, "Puff, how do you know these are all her?" and that's because Rachel still had all of these accounts interlinked through her projects, primarily The Doctor Pepper Show. She seemed to change up usernames often just for the hell of it.

Anyways. I'm not gonna show much of it here because I do think it's better to leave certain things in the past, but there's a LOT of her old work that implies the stuff that's questionable/problematic in LO has always been a part of her identity as an artist (DDLG, hot pink self-insert MC, etc.)

One such example is "madame issue":

This is such a 3-in-1 smoking gun for everything we see in LO. The reference to bandaids (see: used bandaid, which was part of her URL slug for her old flickr where this drawing comes from), the hot pink color palette, and of course, the fact that this character is almost DEFINITELY a self-insert of Rachel, thanks to that shared name.

She's also stated in old commission/print posts that Madame Issue was the one print she wouldn't sell.

She doesn't explicitly say why but I think it's pretty safe to assume it's because Madame Issue is her.

We also have Eva, "the queen of medical fetish". And the tags are... pretty self-explanatory.

That said, that's as much as I'm gonna go into with her old art, because a lot of it does get quite personal with her and I don't really think it accomplishes much more to continue digging up old skeletons, at least not unless they can be seen as parallel to LO (which some of them are and I'll likely be sharing more of those ones in a later post).

That said, there ARE still pages that are accessible without the use of the Wayback Machine that advertise her as a medical fetish artist without the need for extensive digging. If you search up The Doctor Pepper Show on Google, you'll actually find a reddit thread asking what happened to Rachel's old work, and there are comments with loads of resources to access her pre-LO content. You'll also find the listing for The Doctor Pepper Show on The Webcomic List, which literally describes it as a medical fetish comic: "This is a comic set in a world where evil doctors rule, girls wear frilly underpants and people use their manners. *May I please blow your f**king head off?* This comic features Gothic dandys, EGL (Gothic lolitas) and medical fetish fashion. (Neo victorian setting)"

I'll let y'all do your own digging from here, there's a LOT to unpack honestly and while I can't keep you from doing your own research, practice due diligence with what you choose to share. Again, I don't think it's a crime in and of itself for Rachel to want to distance herself from her past as a medical fetish artist, so I think it's only really relevant to show the things that are clearly still influencing LO (like her love for the movie Lolita or the very clear sexualization of youthfulness). While we can try to leave the past where it is, she does still write LO with a lot of the most problematic features of her former identity, and it makes it all the more bizarre that if she is trying to distance herself from it all, then why would she stick with one of the pennames that's the most easily tied back to medical fetishism?

TL ; DR: Rachel started off online with medical fetish and gothic lolita art (at least as far back as we can trace it) and elements of that past are still present in LO today. Use that info responsibly lol

[cas-backwards-tie]

Chapter Three: Fate Rewritten

The Missing Title

Helmut Zemo x Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Summary: After bumping into Sharon, you're escorted back to her apartment in High-Town. What lies in wait is way more than you'd anticipated in store for your night.

Words: 6.4k

Warnings: Partying, Alcohol, Power Dynamics, Semi-Smutty, Inferences toward sex, Age Gap

Mentions of: Government, Betrayal, Treason, Hypocrisy, Grief

A/N: I've been waiting so long to get to this part! Ahhh, I feel like this is really when things will start to change, considering the reader's backstory and her growing relationships with the guys. Not to mention that some of the main plot points are finally being set in motion. I decided to not fully wind up writing them together since the chapter got so long, but I'm sure it'll def pop up in flashbacks later on down the line.

It's safe to say that you're more than a little out of it by the time you guys get into Sharon's vehicle. She insists on driving, and the guys need a good view of Zemo to make sure he's in check. That leaves the three of you in the back: Sam, you, and Bucky. As your journey takes you back a similar way you'd come, you can't help but still be fascinated with the lights. What's Sharon got in store for you all? What's her plan? While you're not super familiar with her, you wonder what she was doing in Low Town Madripoor in the first place. Surely, she hasn't been following you all this whole time.

Once she parks outside a luxury-style apartment, you follow Sam out the back door and follow Sharon into her place. "Woah," you whisper, taking in the fact that not only one security guard--slash--doorman stands out front, but two. Through a big metal sliding door lies an art exhibit, glass containers lined with neon blue lights illuminate different sculptures and craftsmanship. Real antique and pricey-looking things.

"Looks like breaking all those laws is treating you well," Sam comments as he walks beside Sharon alongside the containers. Whatever she'd been going through when you'd first had your run-in has clearly dissipated as she seems to come to life upon Sam's teasing.

"Well, at some point I thought if I had to hustle, might as well enjoy the life of a real hustler. You know how much I can get for a real Monet?" She asks, gesticulating with her arms as she explains her situation. While Zemo lingers a few steps behind you with Bucky trailing, you can't help but slow your steps upon this information.

"Easy, deactivate your hustle mode," Sam warns, "You sell fake Monets." He wants to clarify. While Sharon might pretend to allude to a profited criminal life such as Zemo, Sam clearly thinks she's a goodie-two-shoes.

"No, she means real. This gallery specializes in stolen artwork. Monet. Van Gogh. Classics," Zemo explains nonchalantly as he follows Sharon, continuing to round the exhibit.

"So it's true then? What they say..." You ask them, eyes shifting from Zemo onto Sharon, then finally Bucky who stands a few feet before you while Sam occupies the space by your side.

"It's true. You know, half the artwork in museums like the Louvre is fake. Real stuff sits in places like this," Bucky answers, eyes still taking in the pastel-dotted canvas.

"There's no way," you whisper to yourself, voice trailing off as you take in the scenery. Heading down the two steps, you approach Bucky's side, eyes scanning over the Monet painting before you. You've seen his other works in museums, though now you know they were fakes. Regardless, you don't think you'd be able to tell the difference.

"Okay, guys, I see what you're doing. You're more worldly than good old Sam," your friend complains, still stationed where you stood a few moments ago.

"Yeah? What's Google say?" Bucky asks, a playful tone curling around his words as he physically rounds Sam. This elicits your attention as you shift your gaze onto Sam, glad he's now enlightened onto the, well... not-so theory of conspiracy you and Bucky both seem to know about.

"No shit," Sam exclaims, clearly bewildered by the thought. In all honesty, you can't blame him. To think people would do something so greedy and frivolous? Useless? It takes seeing it firsthand to really believe, and it seems Sam's eyes are finally opening to that aspect.

"Come on, guys-" Sharon calls from the stairs, Zemo waiting a few steps behind her as they stare in your general direction. "You need to change. I'm hosting clients in an hour," She informs.

While you don't question her, you are curious as to what sort of clients and business she does... besides selling art, that is. There's a world of art, of course, yet you know that there's only so much a lifestyle of it can afford. Following the group upstairs, you're taken aback by the fact that this whole place is starting to seem like Sharon's.

"Of course, I've got all this stuff out here for you guys-" Sharon eyes the men, "-but I've got a few things you can borrow for tonight. Come with me," she commands.

Following Sharon through a series of archways and pristine doors you find yourself in a massive bedroom. Intricate patterns are embroidered on the comforter, and through an open doorway, you can see that there's a walk-in closet. It's precisely where she's led you, her hands gesturing for you to follow. "I know. Nice right? Every girl needs a walk-in," she comments before chuckling to herself.

Taken aback by the wide array of shoes on the shelves, purses on hangars, coats, dresses, pants, and shirts all hang neatly in their place, their own rack for each category of piece. Though you aren't sure where to even start, let alone if you even want to. Everything is too expensive, you couldn't possibly use them. Sharon speaks up.

Her fingers run across the fabric, only stopping once she spots something, though her back is to you and therefore your view is obscured. "Try this on, I have the shoes to go with them and together? I'm sure you'll have a great night!" She says over her shoulder before winking. With a quick hand she tosses the hangar to you, which you scramble to catch. "I'll see you downstairs, then."

The dress is a plain black fabric, a halter top cut, two slits on either side of your hips at the start of your thighs. It's a little more exposing than what Zemo had picked, though with everything that's happened tonight, you feel for some reason that you can't bring yourself to care. If someone sees something, it's not like it's the end of the world. Besides, with this dress you could wear a thong or panties. Though the panties would have to be matching or sexy, intentionally meant to be seen as a fashion statement. Deciding to just go for the dress, no bra needed and your panties already discarded, you're glad for the comfy snug fit the fabric offers. It's far more stretchy and accommodating than Zemo's. The shoes you have on work, the only thing left to do is to put your hair up. Finding a claw clip on Sharon's vanity, you figure she won't mind if you borrow it for tonight. After all, it's a lot less intimate than a dress.

With a wet wipe from the bathroom, you're all good to go. Makeup is natural enough to pass as anyone, hair is different, so is your dress, and while the shoes may not be, with the darkness of the gallery you're sure no one will notice. Especially not if there's going to be drinking; and no good party lacks a variety of drink. Heading back to the foyer Sharon had originally brought you to, you find the guys settling in nicely.

Taking in the intricate pieces placed throughout the room, you inspect each one carefully. "Much better," Sharon comments, heels clicking against the wooden floors announcing her return.

"What's going on, Sharon? You don't ever wanna come back home?" Sam asks. The shuffle of fabric and the faint tinkling of metal tells you he's changing his shirt again! Trying to find something suitable for him is practically impossible, and this, you swear. Out of your peripheral vision, you see Sharon place something on the arm of the couch while Zemo stands by the bar.

"They'll lock me up if I ever step foot back in the States. Madripoor doesn't allow extradition," She informs.

"Good to know," you joke to yourself. Fingers running along the smooth wood of the desk behind the couch, you don't notice how the comment seems to have everyone's eyes lingering on you for a moment before Sam chuckles and shakes his head.

"Look, sorry I didn't call, but after the Blip and the chaos, I just..." He attempts. This piques your interest, not initially intent on eavesdropping, though this sounds like something a lover might say. Did Sam and Sharon-? You don't wanna know... do you?

"Look, you know the whole hero thing is a joke, right?" Her tone softens, a genuine question reaching out to form some sort of connection. An attempt to regain a friendship, you think. "I mean the way you gave up that shield, deep down you must know it's all hypocrisy."

Eyes rising from the necklace displayed by the clothes rack, your eyebrows furrow in surprise. Wasn't Sharon CIA? To join the government so outright, then denounce it only a few years later? Something's fishy about it and eerie in a way you don't like. Even if what she's saying elicits a subconscious subtle nod of your head.

"He knows. And not so deep down," Zemo comments with a raise of his drink. This garners everyone's attention for a moment. You can't help but stare as you linger on him. Curious... Questioning.

"By the way, how is the new Cap?" Sharon asks, hands in her pockets. You aren't CIA by any means, but you know how to read body language. She's clearly got her guard up, but for what? You're not sure.

"Don't get me started," Bucky groans.

"Please, you buy into all that stars and stripes bullshit," Sharon argues. You round the room, peeking through the windowed panes of the glass doors into surrounding rooms to see what goodies lie there. If the rooms you've seen so far are anything to go by, you're sure the rest of the apartment complex is loaded with treasures. "Before you were his pet psychopath-" it doesn't take looking to know she's referring to Zemo, considering her positioning and emphasis, "-you were Mr. America! Cap's best friend."

Although you don't comment, you can't help the way your lips curl inward in a silent attempt at holding back any sort of chortle or chuckle from emerging.

"Wow. She's kind of awful now," Bucky comments. While you might guess he may be joking sarcastically, you can't be sure. Is he just insulting her? Being passive-aggressive? You can't tell.

"Karli Morgenthau and at least seven others have taken the serum," Sam informs, passing you as he rounds the couch the other way and sits across from Bucky.

"You guys really should steer clear of all this for your own safety," Sharon warns. Being in Madripoor and clearly in a position of wealth and selling artwork underground, she must know the rumors.

"We know it's a risk, but we won't leave until we find the person who cracked the code," Sam responds, unfazed and defiant of her advice. Elbows on his knees he leans in closer.

"We got a name. Wilfred Nagel," Bucky discloses. Sharon gets up and crosses Bucky to get to the bar, Zemo gets out of her way and walks toward you to sit in the lone chair by the side table.

"Nagel works for the Power Broker," Sharon replies. A dissatisfied hum rumbles in your chest. You don't want to think about the past, nor worry about how you're going to find the Power Broker to stop the supplier.

"We need your help, Sharon. I can get your name cleared," Sam offers, all the men's eyes intent on her as she pours a drink. Fingers running over the edge of a tapestry hung on the opposite wall, you listen intently.

"You haggling with my life?" She asks, tone sounding genuine to you.

"Not like that," Sam corrects.

"I don't buy that," She responds, and really, you can't blame her. "You pretending like you can clear my name."

You have to admit that Sharon is starting to grow on you in some sense. She's smart, that much is clear. While you don't outwardly boast the things you know will be demonized, she does, and you can respect her for that, if anything. Though you haven't weighed in much, you've been listening. Of course everyone has their judgments and suspicions, and while you may be leaping to conclusions, there's a fishy suspicion brewing in your mind. You only wonder if anyone else is catching onto what Sharon is putting down. Eyes flickering over to Zemo for a moment, you notice him meet your gaze. Immediately looking back to Sharon, you can't help the tiny smile that snags at your lips, blush forming on your cheeks. Originally intending to gather intel, for some reason you couldn't handle the pressure of his gaze.

"-I'm willing to try if you are," you zone back in on what they're saying. "They cleared the bionic staring machine, and he killed almost everybody he's met," Sam points out. A chuckle escapes your lips and you shrink in on yourself, not having expected that.

"-I heard that," Bucky comments to Sam, though his eyes and dissatisfied look are aimed at you. You don't even have to see it from your peripheral to feel his stare, the sense of it sending an internal sort of shiver down your spine.

"I don't trust charity," Sharon posits, intent on finishing their conversation.

"All right, a deal then. You help us out, and we get your name cleared." Sharon accepts Sam's extended hand and they shake on it. Downing her drink, she places the used tumbler aside and starts toward the door you'd entered from.

"Well, I sell to some pretty connected people. Lay low, blend in, enjoy the party. Try to stay outta trouble. I'll see what I can find." With that, she's out of the foyer and onto whatever business it is that she's doing.

"Trouble," Zemo repeats playfully with a shrug of his shoulders, a mischievous look in his eyes.

"Yeah, that's what you better not be," you warn. Eyes meeting his, you can't help but find that his playfulness has spread to you, even if you know you can switch into gear and act in accordance with the mission if need be.

"Well, you know me," Zemo taunts. With a swig of his drink, he lays the finished glass atop the coaster on the table beside his chair.

"That's the problem," Bucky quips, standing as Zemo moves to follow where Sharon had gone.

--------

You have to admit, with wherever Sharon stands in your likes, she can throw a good party... that much is clear. Originally determined to view all the authentic art pieces lingering around the gallery, it hadn't actually taken as long as you'd have thought. With a drink or two offered along the way, you can feel yourself start to loosen up. Hors d'oeuvres are littered throughout the party, and with Sharon being such the great hostess, you hardly feel the usual sense of guilt for indulging when it comes to fancy parties. It also doesn't help that they're really good and you hadn't eaten a lot, really, since Zemo's jet was scarce of in-date snacks. Eating expired foods wasn't really a risk you were willing to participate in today.

As the night goes on you find your way to the dance floor after a little persuasion from Sam. While you all might still be focused on your mission, the excuse of blending in is one of necessity. It's not really a party if there isn't dancing, right? The Avenger eventually decides to ditch you in favor of making small talk with some of the other partygoers. He's most likely trying to seek information, knowing him.

Dancing with Sam was different than dancing with Zemo. You hadn't anticipated for this to happen, but considering he's maintained a central viewpoint for the boys, that just so happens to be the dance floor. He's discarded his jacket at some point clearly as his chest is in full display in the plum sweater he's donning. It'd started off friendly, simply busting out your lamest dance moves for fun in the same vicinity. Yet, as the songs played on and you grew closer in distance to make conversation, the vibe between you shifted.

There's a reason they say not to mix drinks... and now you know why. It takes a matter of a half hour for your resolve to break, the inner dialogue, the constant fighting of the comical angel and demon on either shoulder bickering with one another. Overall, the devil had won- there was no use in denying what you want, that you have a plan, and are pursuing it. You're going after what you want. Using any chance to get closer, any excuse to feel his hands on you. the recent memory of his hot breath fanning across your neck, the spark when your lips met... it's still heavy on your mind and hot in your blood.

"You should know this one," you joke across the few feet between you as you sway to the music, the beat of the music ramping up, the bass and beats getting faster and faster toward that familiar climax you all know so well. 'There's not a soul out there-' bouncing to the rhythm, you let your hips sway as your arms find their way above your head.

'Give Me,

Give Me,

Give Me A Man After Midnight~'

It's a remix, the techno music is very different from the original, however, you can't deny you enjoy the song. It's fitting if nothing else. If anyone were to ask why you want this, you couldn't explain it--not rationally--and looks aren't a good enough reason, you know that better than anyone. While there are certain characteristics that could be said of his mannerisms and personality, you wouldn't dare to compliment or lead to the ego of a madman overextending its peace. Many would argue it already had, after all.

He doesn't seem to mind either. Whether you're simply keeping up the act, even if it's unnecessary here, you both find yourselves indulging in the ambiance around you. Breath heavy with the adrenaline of dancing and the higher temperature of lots of bodies on the dance floor, you're being bumped and jostled by the people around you. His hand extends at some point, loosely wrapping around your waist as the two of you draw nearer to one another. Over all, it's safe to say that Sharon may just have predicted your 'great night'.

As it draws closer to the wee hours of the morning, Sam makes his way around to advise you all of making it an early night. Tomorrow is supposed to be busy, so it makes sense. While the four of you head upstairs in a staggered manner, you find that once you're changed and sat on the bed that you still don't feel ready to officially end the night. Eyes drawn to the red dress and accompanying apparel you'd borrowed earlier, you can't help the thoughts that follow. However lewd they may be, it doesn't stop your mind from drawing up a vague plan.

Part of you knows it's a bad idea, that you shouldn't do this, but then again... what's the worse it could lead to? A one night stand? There's no reason that leads you to believe, rationally, that any of the same thoughts are going through his head at all. Therefore, you continue your trapse down the hallway. The wooden floors creak every so often, and you don't miss the way that Sam's clicking fingers on the keyboard come to a momentary halt before returning to its previous pace. It'd go unnoticed if you didn't know better, but you know he's well aware of your presence, just as you are of his.

You'd already thought this through--the excuse--the lie. It's a shame, really, to have to lie to a friend whom you love dearly... yet, you know there's no telling the truth in this circumstance. Yet, there is... isn't there? After all, you know it'd be taking a play from Zemo's book, you're sure, no doubt, but anyone who's smart knows that all lies hold some semblance of the truth. Hence, your excuse; smooth and comforting material weighing your hands down by your stomach, you're about to walk past the back of the couch when his soft voice stops you.

"You're going to visit him?" It's a reasonable question, a check-in. Something to note, since, he is a criminal... a dangerous person. Someone to be kept in check. Unpredictable, as they'd said.

"Just returning these," you answer, lifting the bundle of clothing and the accessories of your disguise for Sam's viewing.

"I'm sure he could care less, but, by all means-" Sam extends his hand in the direction of the hallway. "If he tries anything-"

"-call out, I got it. I'm only planning on dropping this off. Maybe asking him something if he's up for conversation. But it shouldn't be too long. Don't worry," you attempt to reassure him. "You should get some sleep soon, too, you know? Especially if we're to do this in the morning," you shift the topic, intent on reminding him of what you hope is tiredness showing, even if the bags under his eyes grow heavier with the hours.

With a nod in your direction, Sam lets his attention drift back to the computer screen, intent on whatever work it is he has waiting within the digital world. Though you'd like to say this relieves you, lifts a burden from your shoulder, it only makes the weight on them sink further into you. Whether it's dread, guilt, or shame at all of the incredulous scenarios that run through your mind in possible what-ifs of the conversation to play out between you and the Baron, you can't do anything but shake your head in an attempt to dissuade them. Bare feet padding across the wooden floor, you notice how the dim light that peeks from under the door gives your heart a reason to speed up. Really, its the realization that you've never truly been alone with this man since you've met. The rumors, perhaps, the danger they claim he holds... the possibility of a supposed madman snapping at any point is equal parts exhilarating and yet, still terrifying. At least when you let yourself truly contemplate this fact.

With a hesitancy at the door, you lift your small fist up to the carved oak, lingering... debating. While you'd thought all resolve had fled the moments after you'd downed your fifth shot... the buzz of alcohol has long since seemed to dwindle away from your mind, the accelerating carefree feeling emptied from your veins and replaced by the cautiousness of someone who Sam would tease is entirely, all you. Determined to defy the limits of the box your closest friends place you in for one reason or another, you gently knock on the door.

There's no response. Something you'd expect, if not for the way that there's a shuffle of fabric and then a sigh on the other side. "Come in." Cold golden ornate knob within your grasp, you turn it and push the heavy door open enough for you to slip inside before quietly closing it behind you.

"Hi." It's the first word that comes to mind, the only thing you can think to say, to break the silence between you as he takes in your bare goosebump-riddled legs and the satin robe you have on.

"Hello," he returns the sentiment, unmoving from his position, torso upright against the headboard as he lies in bed, legs outstretched before him. "What a surprise to see you, Schön. Though I should've guessed from the light footsteps and quiet knock. James would certainly not allow me a moment of privacy, nor Sam." Sitting up a little straighter, his hands clasp in his lap. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Swallowing your shyness, as you can't simply stare at him forever--that'd be far too embarrassing--you lift your arms a bit for emphasis. "I thought I would return these to you." There's a wooden chair with a striped pattern of cloth covering the cushiony seat standing by the vanity. That's where you place the pile of folded clothing and shoes. Although you're no longer facing him, you can feel his gaze lingering on your figure. When you turn around again, he has his head tilted, no doubt thinking about something.

"You can keep the clothes, Schön, I don't need them back. However, I'm sure you knew that. Why are you really here?" He questions.

"What if I really was just here to return the clothing?" You offer, mirroring him unconsciously with a little tilt of your own head.

"Then I'd say you're courteous, and ask how you liked the outfit I picked out for you," he retorts. Even from across the room, you can spot a flicker of something within his irises. Whether he's playing with you, toying with you, or testing you, you're unsure. This question, however, puts you on the spot. A bemused smile graces your lips and you don't try to hide it. Taking in his state of wealth, you decide not to comment on how expensive you thought everything was, as you'd rather not know. It's better to play on his level.

"I... thought it was very nice. Not something I'd normally wear, but for a nice evening out, I think it was a good pick. The shoes were cool, the gems on the back," you recount.

"The color suited you wonderfully. Brought out your features, just as I'd predicted," he comments with a somewhat smug look upon his face. Seemingly half-placated with the notion, though there's still something gnawing at the seams of his resolve. "There's another reason you're here, whether you're willing to admit it or not." This is a test, you're well aware.

"Mmm," the hum leaves your lips before you can even begin to think of a retort. Turning on your spot, you can't help but run your fingers along the carved wooden back of the chair, walking your fingers along it and taking a step further into the room as you think. "Am I?" You stop moving, offering a look in his direction. "What if I said that you intrigue me? That I wanted to ask you how you do it?" You posit.

Tongue sneaking out to wet his lips, the Baron listens intently. Though he silently chuckles to himself at you returning his question with another question, the second half of your thoughts elicit a narrowing of his eyes. This notion has caused pause for his own thought. "Do... what, Schatz?" He plays along, subconsciously leaning a little closer despite being across the room.

Though the various thoughts and moments from tonight race across your mind, there's one theme that you can't bear to continue reliving. One thought, one realization that you know will have you getting nowhere in the coming days. Jaw threatening to clench down on itself, you can't help but sigh as your hands ball up into fists by your sides. "I... tonight, I just noticed how... in every instance, no matter what seemed to be going on, you... didn't seem scared. Like nothing fazed you," it comes out a whisper. Those final words. Though you'd been trying to search for the right words, everything came out how it wanted to, yet in the end you couldn't help but whisper the truth. It seemed like nothing fazed him. Meanwhile you... were downright terrified. Scared in a way no one has made you feel. Ever. And the worst of it is that you know it's not over. Tomorrow you will get up, alongside the rest of your friends and acquaintances and get geared up and ready to face a man who's only haunted your past.

"Oh..." Zemo responds, your name falling off his lips as if you were simply a child, a silly girl that he feels pity for. Something shifted in his demeanor by the time you finally raise your eyes to meet him again, not sure when you had dropped your vision to the floor. Possibly too embarrassed to admit the truth.

It's this moment... that's when things changed, you think. Time settles in the space between you, the air thick and heavy with confusion and a cluster of effervescent emotions bubbling up and out of you both into the air, a swirling and confusing domination of raw emotion. There's no denying what's there; the truth, the matter of your age held right before you in time like a reflection of your souls. While you'd both endured a heaviness of trauma encumbered in your life time and time again, there's no denying that he's the older man, that he's experienced more... seen more, done more, lived more. And you... well, let's save the stereotype for literature digests, will you?

"Don't-" you warn, the rise of embarrassment hitting you like a brick wall as you begin to march toward the door with a speed that leaves him in a whirlwind. What surprises you both, however, is the way that as soon as your hand is reaching for the doorknob, his is roughly placed atop it. His hand effectively trapping yours underneath. You hadn't even heard him get up, yet you can feel the heat coming off his body only inches away.

"Come," he beckons, "listen." With gentle hands he peels yours away from the knob as he guides you over to the side of the bed, simply sitting. A pat of his free hand on the empty space beside him lets you know what he wants. Really, you'd want it too... if it weren't for the conflicting emotions in your stomach making you want to tear up.

He seems to pick up on your hesitance as he stands once more, hands tentatively moving to ghost over your shoulders, tacitly asking for your permission. When you don't push him away, he places them on you, hands encompassing your satin-covered shoulders. "You have to understand, Meine Süße," he starts, voice holding a softer tone than you've ever heard him use. "I joined my country's military as soon as I was eligible. From the time I was a recruit to the time I eventually became a Colonel..." Zemo sighs as he tears his gaze from you, the motion eliciting your gaze on him in turn. "The point is, I have been through more, seen more, than you and anyone will ever know. And despite my training, the truth still remains... disregarded by most."

Soft hand sliding down your shoulder to your wrist, his long fingers gently wrap around it as he guides you toward the bed. Sitting, you follow suit beside him, shoulder to shoulder as his arm winds its way around your shoulder. "As I see it, there is only reason to be afraid of death if one feels they have something left to live for. Would you agree?" While speaking you'd noticed his gaze, even if no longer stationed on you, become more far off and glazed over. As you silently ponder on his words, his eyes find your face, gauging you no doubt.

"Yeah, I suppose so... though are you saying you don't have anything left to live for?" You prod, eyes shifting between his as you attempt to read him, the two of you finally making eye contact once more.

"I did, once, yes. Though your friends would most likely also claim my recklessness only provides evidence for this theory," he answers. Zemo may not mention it explicitly, but you know that he's referring to his family. You'd heard the stories from Sam, the details from Bucky. That's why he tried to destroy the Avengers. Or did, considering the rift he'd created.

"Maybe... but you know that most people would argue that when you don't feel you have a reason to live anymore, that's an opportunity to find a new one, right?" You offer. Brushing your hair behind your ear, your vision drifts from his face toward the wall before you both. "And don't get me wrong. I understand. I do, really... I'd be lying if I said that I felt I had any sort of reason right now, but... I also think there's a certain cynicism in giving up hope. Maybe it's my naivety... my lack of experience in life comparingly... but I believe there's hope for everyone."

He hums in contemplation, "Perhaps." It's the only answer you receive, his eyes still lingering on your face for a moment before he, too, finds his own spot on the wall across from the bed. Neither of you move, still stuck in quiet consideration.

Held safe within his warm arms, there's a relaxation that finds you in the blue. You hadn't anticipated the night going this way, and yet... you wouldn't change it for anything. The answer was unexpected, but you can't deny that you'd gotten an answer. Heart thumping steadily in your chest, you finally take in a deep breath before leaning back just enough to peer up at him from underneath your thick lashes. "Thank you, Zemo," you whisper. There's no reason to be loud, not when the night is so quiet, so still, and there's only so much room between you.

"Helmut," he offers, a slight nod of his head downward in your direction, a squeeze of your hand in reassurance.

"Thank you, Helmut," you repeat, teasing slightly as you use the name he'd offered. An amused smile graces your lips and his grip on you loosens, glad to see you're no longer feeling beaten down. Unbeknownst to the both of you, while his grip has loosened, the distance between you is increasingly closing. In a matter of seconds, you can't help but jump off the ledge you'd been teetering off all night long- diving into the ocean that is Helmut.

Pressing your lips to his gently, the shocked gasp that resonates through his closed mouth easily turns into a hum as he returns the kiss, then draws out into a growl as his hand roughly finds your cheek, gripping it tightly with a desperate need. A whimper involuntarily leaves your throat as this happens, unsure what you've unearthed. Slowly forcing himself to pull away, his forehead rests against yours as you both breathe deeply, in need of the oxygen that streams into your lungs and filters through your blood. "Why?"

It's a question you hadn't anticipated receiving from him. An answer that you weren't prepared to give. Even if you both knew of the inklings and sparks that'd been building and dancing around you all night. "Because you were right," an airy laugh echoes in the space between you, "earlier. I did want something else, even if I wanted this, too." A smile stretches upon your lips, and the contagion spreads, Helmut mirroring it as an amused smile of his own tugs at the corners of his lips. The moment is short; a brushing of your noses against one another as you breathe in the same light-hearted air. Each of you tempting the other to be the first to lean in and capture a kiss from the other. Some unspoken instinctual game, perhaps.

Lips darting in for another peck, you're not surprised when his hand moves from cupping your cheek to rounding your head in search of a hold, a grasp of some sort. His hand winds into your hair, fingers gripping it tenderly. Pulling you in with his lips, he draws back, making you careen after him in search of his lips. Yet the instant he lies back, hands moving mindlessly down to your hips to help you straddle him and stay steady, the spark is interrupted. Helmut lies on the bed, a look crossing his face that leaves you knowing.

How can one read a stranger like they're a book they'd left open on a coffee table, passed by dozens of times? The heat where your clothed sex meet his undeniable erection. a spark sated in nips and kisses you'd been teasing each other with all night, yet there's something unsaid. "We don't have to," you voice it. "I don't want you to do anything you don't want to." The hand that's not secured on his chest and holding you up runs down the front of his robe, the thick and cozy material running beneath your fingertips.

"I want to..." his voice trails off, "I just..."

"Don't want to offend her. I understand," you answer for him. Lips pursing into a thin line, the upward tilt of the inner corners of your eyebrows betray that semblance, showing your empathy. Even if to him it might appear as some sort of pity. "Though... if I may?" You inquire.

"You may," he encourages, curious to hear your thoughts. Warm splayed hands lie on your thinly robed hips keeping you steady and preventing you from grinding down on him and teasing further, even if you aren't presently doing so. A precaution, nonetheless.

"I know I didn't know her, and I've only heard a little, but... if there's anything I can say, I'd think she'd want you to be happy." The sentiment lingers in the air, and you offer him a saddened smile, quickly intent on clarifying. "And I'm not saying that to get you to sleep with me, I just... I think you should know. If anyone hasn't said it, I think any wife that truly loves her husband would eventually want him to find happiness again. However, it may be."

Silence settles in the air for a moment, and his lack of response elicits a spike of anxiety as you continue to voice your thoughts. "I know it probably doesn't mean anything coming from me, a stranger, but I still do believe in what I said," you chuckle, "and that includes people some may otherwise consider criminal, but... I believe there's hope for you. To find another reason."

"Verdammte Hölle," he curses. One of the hands on your hip squeezes for a moment. "I know," he acknowledges, "I just..."

"Haven't since?" You question, noticing the slight pinch of his brows. It's a guess, a posture in relation to the circumstance you both come from.

"Exactly," he affirms. Searching your eyes, you leave him no room for doubt as you lean down so you're chest to chest.

"Then we'll take it slow. If that's what you want," you reassure him, eyes searching his for some sort of clue into his thoughts.

"Yes, just bear with me, Schatz. It's been a while for me," He reveals, a hint of red tinging his cheeks. Whether it be from blush, embarrassment, or lust, you can only think of how handsome it makes him look in the golden light pouring from the bedside lamp.

"Me too, don't worry," you reassure. Hands resettling themselves on his chest, you both lean in, lips easily finding their way back to one another.

~~~~~~~~

translations:

Schatz = treasure, sweetheart, darling

Schön = lovely, beautiful, nice

Verdammte Hölle = fucking hell.

Meine Süße = my darling, sweet, dear, honey

forever taglist: @ohdamnadam , @safarigirlsp , @jynzandtonic , @moonlightsolo

tmt taglist: @wheres-mylove , @ashy-kit

[merrivia]

There’s something I find quite curious about the Captive Prince trilogy.

The lack, or paucity, of any references to religion. Or mythology or folklore. I find that a really interesting creative choice, because I think most readers feel the shapes of the fairytales and myths and beliefs that lie, like bones or the foundation of a building, under the surface of the story.

So let's discuss.

Firstly, belief systems. We know Akielos, much like the Ancient Greece it’s modelled on, has philosophers, even if we never hear about them in any detail.

We know there are Veretian and Akielon rituals regarding death. Aleron and Auguste are entombed, and so is Damen's faked body with Theomedes.

Akielon rituals are told to us in more detail via Nikandros:

There is an Ancient Greek death ritual called the ekphora, a “ritual procession of the deceased’s body from where it had been laid out to the place of burial”. The prefix ek meant ‘out’ and phora ‘to carry’ so it literally denotes the carrying out of the body to be buried. I couldn't find 'ekthanos' as a real extant word, but with the same logic ekthanos means out + thanos- a word that can mean immortal or death depending on how you might interpret the etymology of it.

It sounds like Nikandros completed a mourning ritual and lit something (a votive lamp?) symbolically (perhaps it symbolises the leaving of the spirit, as that which removes or leads out the immortal soul from the body, hence ekthanos?). I would assume it was a funeral pyre if it weren't for the fact that Damen's body was interred (could it have been ashes that were interred? That would be safer if you're going to fake someone's death, but that's honestly me very much extrapolating from nothing. Also damn, Nikandros loves Damen. My heart honestly feels so warm about him. If that happened, and he stepped up to light the pyre when Kastor didn't, than he really is his real brother).

But for all this, there is no sense of an afterlife nor praying to deities.

More after the jump:

Edit: Unless you count Jokaste’s note to Damen, which seems to point to Greek ideas of metempsychosis/reincarnation.

Regardless of that though there are no powerful institutions, no churches or temples, no religious figures to appease.

At first I thought there were no mentions of gods at all.

But there is.

Firstly in the very first description of Laurent in the baths:

And secondly, in the Akielon epic Erasmus sings:

There’s also an unusual mention of Nereus who has a collection of statues in his garden. At first, because Nereus was a Greek god and because it felt faintly familiar, I took it for a classical allusion then swiftly realised on googling that it wasn’t. Or at least I don’t think so? Someone enlighten me, and I'll edit if I'm wrong.

So I think we can safely assume Akielos once had gods, but the religion died out perhaps (thought not due to the rise of Christianity). And their pantheon may have been pretty much been the Greek one as the influence might linger in names like Nereus, literally a god of the sea (and Damianos from Damia, a minor goddess of fertility, and Nikandros which has a root in Nike, goddess of victory…).

Edit: having now read The Training of Erasmus, Nereus is a slave owner, and his gardens a place for young pre-pubescent slaves to have their initial training. Sigh. Reading that story really is just heartbreaking.

Keeping to the topic I suppose (even with the lingering sense of disgust that ran through me while reading it) did he collect statues that were relics of the times before and keeps them in this garden? You can see statuary fitting into this strange rarified space for the most beautiful youths. It could be some echoing of Roman pleasure gardens which generally had that sort of statuary? Or is it a mirroring of Renaissance Italy where they tried to recreate Roman gardens, taking classical statues from ruins to restore and place in them? Who knows!

Without being explicit, Pacat makes it clear that beautiful Laurent is classical-statue-beautiful. Greek god beautiful. A Ganymede, perhaps or an Adonis. And slave beautiful, too.

And, of course, Damianos has so many parallels to Achilles, from his unparalleled strength and prowess on the battlefield, to his ability to strategise as if Athena is guiding him, to how he can become blinded by rage. The warrior-hero.

Ultimately, I guess what’s interesting is Pacat’s choices. It’s really hard to avoid any religious references in writing, as these allusions are baked in so deep to language. Damen being made a slave is called a “living hell”. Laurent presents an “angelic countenance”. Damen "prays" the training arena is empty so he can escape. Orlant thinks that Akielos sounds like "paradise". Interestingly, all those quotes are from Captive Prince, and it seems as if, as Pacat went along, she steered away more and more from any kind of religious reference.

I mean, I get wanting to steer clear of religion. After polytheistic religions came the monotheistic- and then suddenly we have a whole heap of reasons why homosexuality is a sin. If we cut that off, and there is no spread of Christianity across Europe, it seems we get the bisexual culture of Vere and Akielos and Patras.

[Edit: But also sex as a sin in general does not exist. The policing of heterosexual premarital sex came into being to control reproduction, which in turn helps secure bloodlines in a patriarchal society. And so Pacat very neatly invents another social taboo as a substitute; the fear of bastardry, which means no heterosexual premarital sex EVER, and thus bisexuality becomes the norm (Damen is against this seeing it as potentially leading to situational sexual behaviour which doesn’t feel right to him).]

I also think it may have distracted from Pacat’s pared down yet evocative writing style. And added layers of unnecessary complication as the Veretian version of the Church would be another tricky, powerful and corrupt institution for him to battle and there really is no room for that in the narrative.

And just as a mini musing of a postcript, we know Laurent reads illuminated manuscripts:

We know these surely can't be prayerbooks, so I think we can assume that they are histories and works of poetry and stories.

Stories of courtly love perhaps? Fables, legends and folklore? Old Akielon myths? I would love to know what he read.

There are two French/European stories that do come to mind when I think of Laurent.

Beauty and the Beast, of course, with Laurent-the-beautiful and Damen-the-'giant-animal', and the trope of the kind-hearted lover who thaws the heart of the one who has grown cold and cruel.

And Reynard the fox, the trickster figure, whose "sly amorality" is "sympathetic as it is needed for his survival".

And whose main antagonist is, of course, his uncle.

[slugtranslation-hypmic]

Hihi slug, I love your work, and thanks for everything!! Since Matenro season is nearly upon us, I was wondering if we could get your opinion on the solo snippets🤞🤞

Matenro's new solo previews are SO GOOD, what do you think of them?

Thank you both for notifying me about them! Taking a look now...

(The album is probably already out now, but... better late than never...)

Jakurai's A Majestic Figure

Title note: 4-kanji compounds are like the SAT vocab words of Japanese; they're not super common in everyday speech and can evoke a literary or sophisticated feeling. This one is...interesting. To the best of my knowledge, it isn't a standard compound (I'm also not getting any hits when I Google it) and I wonder if that's significant. It's just two words strung together to make the appearance of fanciness, perhaps. I couldn't say for certain. At any rate, both 威風 and (especially) 颯爽 describe a majestic, often captivating appearance. This isn't to say that such qualities of dignity or majesty aren't real, but I definitely feel like both terms are defining a subject from an outside perspective. These aren't terms I would ever expect someone to describe themselves with, which makes the song title sound like it's an outside observer commenting on Jakurai instead of Jakurai talking about himself. We see this happen a lot in Hypmic, with people putting Jakurai on pedestals or Jakurai struggling to see himself as the same grand figure others perceive him as. As a result, I wrote the song title as "A Majestic Figure" to emphasize the appearance of majesty, whereas the character of the figure is unknown. Anyway, let's dive in and see what this is all about.

(10 seconds in) Vibing with these instrumentals

(19 seconds in) Not vibing with these "ah"s... but we can't have everything in life

(43 seconds in) I'm a little too tired to fully keep up (I'll look up the lyrics when I'm done) but I REALLY like the urgency in the delivery, which is so at odds with the flowing, dignified background music. In JPN fiction as a whole, flusteredness/desperation is contrasted with calmness as a synonym for imperfection and perfection. Jakurai is, honestly, really kind of a desperate character...yet one that appears outwardly calm/perfect to most of the rest of the cast, so it's interesting that we get to see his desperate nature on full display right at the start of the song.

(1:26 in) Hand motif mentioned *Cinemasins ding* (of

(End) Thank you uta-net for having the lyrics up already; ily. Let's see now... Interesting. I'll have to read them again in more depth later, but it looks like a call to forgive past wounds and seek out a better, less painful way of existence--in a societal sense, a religious (as in like, ascending or becoming enlightened) sense, and a personal sense. All great things to see Jakurai expressing. Again, it's interesting to see Jakurai expressing this with such urgency, even if these are things we know he really, really cares about. That coupled with the background music seems to match a bit in the lyrics that says "And [to end war within society, paraphrased] I take grand, dignified action mixed with the discord and noise of Shinjuku, a samsara spiral of cacophonous echoes." Mixing the stately and the chaotic, the "imperfect" and the "perfect." Really interesting stuff!

Hifumi's The Beginning of the Last Song

Title note: "Last Song" is English and written in katakana, which is a sharp contrast to the style of Jakurai's title. Creates a much younger and casual feel appropriate for Hifumi. Not much else to say here, so let's jump in.

(10 seconds in) Modern indie pop song on the radio feel. I'm not a fan of autotune in general so I'm not in love with this, but I'm hopeful it'll pick up soon.

(22 seconds in) I listen to so much "soft hiphop" (for lack of a better term) during work that my brain instantly catapulted itself into work mode and stopped paying any attention to the words. Coffee mug? Check. Emails? Check. Anxiety? Check. Let me rewind and listen to this properly.

(32 seconds in but for real this time) So far, very Hifumi. Opening verse has some fun figurative language but essentially says Hifumi's suit is pure courage he dons like a suit of armor. In doing so, it masks him and makes him become like a whole other person. From there, he switches to addressing a listener: "I want to soothe your mental wounds. I want to change your frown into a smile. I won't let go of your hands, and no, I'm not doing this for a reward." It's something that Hifumi should be saying to himself (something Hifumi wants to hear, maybe?) and yet he says "To [Host!]me, this is happiness."

(59 seconds in) Hmm... I was going to say this song feels sad to me, because all these positive messages of "Keep going! You're safe now!" are framed as being directed at other people, and I was like..."Hifumi, who's going to say that to you? Who's going to help you feel that way?" but then the line "You made me realize I'm not alone" radically flips the framing so that it DOES become things Hifumi is saying to himself, too. How nice. :) I would not want to translate this, personally... Haha it's using the vagueness of Japanese grammar and lyrical conventions to great effect, but I don't feel comfortable touching that personally.

(1:02) Hell yeah, belt that shit, homie

(1:32) So it's a last song in the sense that it's a farewell or the final song of his old self. Now he's the new, healing Hifumi. We love to see it 10/10 bravo. The song is also a happy, heartfelt thank you to the unspoken listeners (presumably Matenrou) who helped him feel less alone. That's cute! I like it. I probably shouldn't go here, but I find it intriguing how the vagueness of listeners is utilized. The first time the listeners are addressed, the language is...if not borderline romantic, pathos-filled to the point where it's definitely evocative of his host job (hence why he's not seeking compensation for handholding, an often romantic gesture). Yet it's borderline enough that it wouldn't be inappropriate to imagine it being addressed to Matenrou instead of his patrons. Hahaha. Again, another reason I don't want to go near this one.

(Overall) I like it! A nice ballad for Hifumi.

Doppo's Andante

(5 seconds in) For a song called Andante, this has a faster tempo than at least one other song on this album lol. But it's much less frenetic than Doppo's other solos, so there's that, I guess.

(7 seconds in) This delivery is giving me anime ending made by a 2010s rock band vibes lol.

(14 seconds in) Damn there's a baller line here that I'm stumped on how to convey in Eng in a way that's both baller and sensical. Meaning wise, it's like "I want to take back the things I shouldn't have said and give them as a present to you" and in figurative language it's like "Once, I used to fire words into the air [speak things in anger or carelessly]. Now, I want to gather them up [esp. like a bouquet of flowers] after their flight and use them to decorate you [again, like flowers or like a piece of jewelry--it's a positive connotation]" Pop off, Doppo

(40 seconds in) Oh this is killer and also going to need some major explaining. Doppo's name is literally "he who walks alone" which is usually considered a positive thing--someone who "walks the path of life" alone would have gotten there by outstripping the rest of the pack. In Doppo's case, though, this is a negative thing. I think it's not as obvious to Eng-only fans, and I know I didn't really think about it for a long time myself, but Doppo considers himself a "loser" bc he didn't follow a conventional life path. It's considered atypical to switch employers, especially very early on in one's career, as he did when he stood up for Hifumi and got himself fired at his first job. Part of why he puts up with shitty treatment at EL Medical is because it's one of the few places that would hire someone who switched employers at such a young age. (Sidebar: My (probably flawed, as I don't live in Japan) impression is that this is becoming less and less of a thing as time goes on and the economy goes to shit, but I think it's the self-stigma more than anything else that's affecting Doppo. To me, it feel similar to the societal pressures in the US to attend and graduate from a four-year college. Plenty of people don't for all sorts of reasons, but because that's so ingrained as the default life story for Americans in a lot of communities, Doppo's dealing with the kind of disappointment and self-hatred someone who dropped out before getting a four year degree might feel.) Doppo beats himself up about that a lot, but here we get that lovely line of "In the waves of people (hitonami) passing all around me, I no longer see anyone who looks like me. It's a shame, because I always wanted to be just like everyone else (hitonami)." Outside of that beautiful wordplay on hitonami, we're also treated to the figurative language of hitonami being literally "in line with others." Doppo, a character who walks through life alone, wanted to walk through life at the same pace/reaching the same milestones at the same time as everyone else.

(1:04 in) "Life is a tightrope act; it's like walking a balance beam [lit. "average beam" aka a beam where everything is averaged/balanced]. In a country where not everything can be average (narasarenai) and where even if the things that [I] can accomplish (narasareru) don't matter [in the eyes of society], sometimes the sounds I want to make don't come out right (narasarenai). When that happens, I can call myself pitiful--or I can feel the breathing of the beautiful flowerbed that is this city, and when someone's humming under their breath disturbs that short break [lit. breath], I ask them 'So, what is this happiness thing anyway?'" I would rather die than TL this song but I'm LOVING the creativity and depth of the lyrics.

(1:27) WILD! FUCKING! CHEERING!!! "You fake smiles in a mirror to make other people happy and call it love. It's a form of hypnosis, and I've made a go of falling under its spell because I just want to be equals [on par with, balanced], and so if you and I can walk these crowded streets together, then I think I don't mind as much that I'm always walking alone." THE GROWTH! THE GROWTH!!!!

Damn, this album's lyrics go hard. What a feast.

[sirfrogsworth]

I thought YouTube was safe!

It wasn't my fault!

And now I need to get this out of my brain so I can go back to rest and relaxation.

So... I mostly follow makers and musicians and tech channels. My YouTube subscriptions are a pretty safe space without triggers.

A while ago I followed what I thought was a fun science lady.

But then she turned out to be an "enlightened centrist" and professional contrarian. Her video on gender affirming care was so bad.

She has that Neil deGrasse Tyson Syndrome where she thinks she knows everything about everything because she has a big science brain. But in reality she is just doing surface level google searches on topics outside her understanding and pretending to be an expert regardless.

The googling is fine. Researching things you don't understand is good. And sharing what you've learned is also good. That is how we all navigate complicated topics as a community.

But she uses her authority as a Ph.D. Science Lady to make it seem like she has the 100% factual and objective take. Even though many of these issues go beyond an objective understanding. Social sciences, philosophy, psychology, etc. cannot be parsed through a hard science lens.

In any case, I meant to unsubscribe, but I guess I forgot.

And as I was going through my very safe and fun feed, suddenly...

And I watched it!

Why did I watch it?

And why did she do a stroke around her hair without cleaning up the selection for that thumbnail? There are so many better ways to do that.

LEARN PHOTOSHOP, SCIENCE LADY.

In any case, I am going to sit this video aside in a tab so I can rant about it when I'm better. It's a shit show. And it will be fun to write about. But not right now.

Sometimes unplugging is a process. Or that is what I am telling myself.

I haven't looked at Twitter. So there is that.

And I did watch some very cool YouTube videos that helped me get out of my head for a while. So going there wasn't a bad idea, per se. I just should have remembered to unsubscribe to ridiculous science lady.

Here is Allen Pan (ridiculous science man, but in a good way) making a scary laser death trap for mosquitos that almost set his bits on fire.

Good stuff.

[4dkellysworld]

Hi! :)

How are we separate to our bodies? I thought consciousness was part of the physical brain? Also, let's say 'Vanessa' was crying about something, but then I mentally affirm/know that I am not Vanessa nor am I her body. But when I remind myself that the organ I'm using is the brain, which is also unreal, I realise that I'm not consciousness ignoring Vanessa's brain, I'm just Vanessa's brain ignoring her own thoughts and emotions. Am I doing something wrong or is this how its supposed to be? Thanks 🤍

How are we separate to our bodies? I thought consciousness was part of the physical brain?

You are very confused. Physicality is an illusion of awareness, a mirror you think is you. Consciousness can and does exist without a physical brain. How else do you explain all the near death experiences people have where they were determined to be clinically dead but still experience an astral body being present at the death scene and are able to recount exactly what happened after they "came back"? And children who have memories of their past lives and have accurately recounted details and facts about the people they talk about?

To truly know you are separate from your body, that isn't something you can just read from words, it's something you come to know yourself when you realize your Self. There is no greater "proof" than your own Self and your own experiences. When I realized my Self, I just came to know that everything was superimposed to give the illusion that "I am the body, I am the mind" but it isn't so.

Also, let's say 'Vanessa' was crying about something, but then I mentally affirm/know that I am not Vanessa nor am I her body.

First of all, why are you mentally affirming when Vanessa gets emotional? Does that actually help or does it create more resistance and not allow the emotions to be released? Just let her cry, let her feel, let her be and just observe it as the unaffected witness.

But when I remind myself that the organ I'm using is the brain, which is also unreal, I realise that I'm not consciousness ignoring Vanessa's brain, I'm just Vanessa's brain ignoring her own thoughts and emotions.

Ayayayay which is it? You are using the brain so how can you also be the brain, does that make any sense?

Am I doing something wrong or is this how its supposed to be?

No, this isn't how it's supposed to be. I do say a lot there is no right or wrong but there are approaches that will get you to your intended destination and then there are approaches that will take you elsewhere and right now it looks like you are going elsewhere. Frankly, I feel a bit lost on how exactly to advise you on what to do except you need to read more and I mean teachings from realized masters, not from Tumblr (it can be a supplementary aid but don't rely on it). Yes I said to truly know your Self, you can't get it from books but spiritual studies is fundamental as a foundational base when you are starting out, to then take you to a "place" where you can know your Self.

Go through Ada's and my Google drives and pick a book that resonates and read (or you can find your own from a realized master, I recommend avoiding Neo-Advaita Vedanta teachers that claim you are enlightened now and there's nothing to do). It feels like you are missing fundamental knowledge to guide you correctly on this journey.

[safedistancefrombeingsmart]

Hello~ I saw that you are Martin Enthusiast, so I thought you would know better and wanted to clarify something. And sorry this is an uncomfortable topic to speak but I wanted to make sure before I conclude something. The thing is I saw a post with 200 likes about Martin and Benedict are shi**y people... Especially Martin uttering rap*st jokes and being homophobic? I don't know anything about them, it's only been a month I came to know these actors and after seeing this allegations I don't know what to think, so I thought maybe you could enlighten me that contradict this before I dwell into more of their movies/series. Again sorry for bringing such heavy topic into your feed, I can't help since I'm sensitive to such accusations, if it's not true I have no idea why people think these are something normal to accuse someone of, so yeah..... Have a good day 😇🥰

Hello, dear anon.

Before I answer in more detail let me say 3 things:

Thank you so much for not just blindly believing what you read on the internet and asking for advice. You have no idea how much this delights me. A few weeks ago, a TikTok video went a bit viral and claimed that Martin was homophobic, racist, abuses his kids and tells rape jokes. Seeing how many people blindly believed what they saw in a badly researched TikTok and cancelled Martin was disheartening. I also saw the post you mentioned, but decided not to react- because well, what's the point?

As you said yourself, I am a Martin enthusiast. I know next to nothing about Benedict, so all I am saying will be about Martin.

Most of the accusations are old, like several years old and originate from the infamous 'your fave is problematic' tumblr blog. Google it if you want to, I won't link it for obvious reason. The person behind that blog now looks back at it with 'shame and regret'.

So, is it true that Martin said some things in the past he probably shouldn't have said? Yes, it's true- there is no denying that. But then again: isn't that something we are ALL guilty of? I know I've said things in the past that I regret now. I have a very twisted and dark sense of humour, not unlike Martin (I think). Yes, he is a famous person and he should be more aware of what he says. I think his publicist probably hated him many, many times for speaking his mind. 😆 But that is also something I adore about Martin- he just says what he thinks without caring about what people will think about him. He just doesn't give a shit. I envy that. And I like him even more because of that.

Also, none of the things he said were truly awful. Most of them were taken out of context and sound bad- until you read the whole thing. Please read this article which deals with that nicely and so much better than I ever could. Also, this is totally worth a read and shows that Martin isn't a bad person and Cancel Culture sucks.

Do yourself a favour and read both articles/ blog posts I linked.

Maybe one of my followers has some similar links for Benedict?

I decided not to go into further detail about any of the 'problematic' things he said. For now. If you want my opinion on a certain quote/ joke, just let me know. I am not shying away from it, I just don't want to spend too much time on something if it's not really needed.

Thanks again for the ask, and I hope this helped.

[kandyzee]

thoughts on the book Fiona found and read during Monica's funeral? Not that if it exists, or maybe. I find it interesting that's what she used to maybe get to know her better? Or to have something to say since she had nothing? What did the book mean to her?

Honestly, I haven't really thought about this in depth before. I kinda just skipped past it as something insignificant, so thanks for asking this :)

So, from what i found, the book she finds is Siddhartha, a story of a man going on a spiritual journey. I've never read it so idk if everything I'm saying here is right cause its just what I gathered from Google

In the book, Siddhartha feels like he has to leave his family and feels like his child hated him because he has riches. I think this is something Monica would deeply relate to. Siddhartha fasts, becomes homeless, renounces all personal possessions, and intensely meditates when he starts his journey. Inconsistent eating, giving away/losing belongings, racing thoughts, and zoning out are all things that can happen when someone is in a manic episode. What Siddhartha does and how Monica may feel during an episode are very similar, and given that she's manic she probably believes she is also on a journey of enlightenment like the protagonist. It makes sense to me that this novel would be something Monica held close. At the end of the story, Siddhartha reaches enlightenment. He reconnects with his son in the sense that he can let him go, so basically, it's a happy ending. Monica wants that. That story is hope for her. In the same way Siddhartha is helped during his spiral journey, Monica wishes to be helped on her mental health journey.

'for every true statement there is an opposite one that is also true' I can see Monica connecting this to herself. The conflict of truth is similar to her own conflict of emotions. Or maybe even her 'true self' like she's a bad mother (true) but she also wants to connect and care about her children (true) thoese 2 statements are right but what one is more her?

Literature is a fantastic way to express yourself. Monica expresses herself through her love for the novel, she even underlines parts of it. Fiona never got to understand her mother when she was alive and now is her chance. It's not Monica's words but it can be seen as things she didn't get to say. In s1 fiona refers to lip as their mums favourite, we see during the show that Monica's favourite is Ian or Debbie, Monica tries to take Liam away for another chance. Many times fiona is overlooked by her mother (this happens to Carl too) but this book is hers. Its a chance not to only understand Monica but to have something one on one with her.

I think fiona would also relate to the book herself. Fiona leaves her family - like Monica and Siddhartha- after she gets a lot of money -like Siddhartha- so that she can become her own better person. She's starting her own journey. Even tho fiona hadn't left yet when Monica died I would love if this book stayed with her. Maybe it helps her come to the decision that she's ready to leave. Like Monica fiona craves help and support we see this all the time, normally in the form her acting rude and demanding praise but that's not important rn. Reading the Siddharthas story might of prompted her to see her how and her mum arent always so different.

Fiona quotes the book at Monica's funeral and I really really tried to find what quote it was but I sadly couldn't get a concrete answer. I think the fact fiona memorised a quote (probably one of the ones Monica had underlined) shows just how much she wanted to understand. Fiona doesn't say many good things about monica, she's always angry at her, blaming her (for good reason obviously) but lots of the time I think fiona uses angry as a way to cover up her sadness towards monica. Yeah she says she's happy she's dead but she still took time to memories quotes her mum held close to herself.

The book might also be a replacement of motherly advice. The novel is filled with wisdom. Monica had read the book, she had internalised the philosophies and now Fiona gets to do the same. Monica never got to bond with fiona and help her becomes the person she's meant to be like she's meant to. Monica passing down the book is like passing down her wisdom. She couldn't shape fiona when she was alive but she can indirectly help when she's dead.

Okayy I don't really have anything else to say, I kinda wanna read the book now tho. The shameless writers really ate with this one might be one of my new favourite details.

[alatismeni-theitsa]

Hello! I'm not Greek (or European, or American) and only recently took an interest in the mythology—admittedly because of an American work—but I just wanted to say this blog was very educational for me! I actually grew up disliking the popular mythology that now I know was being filtered through non-Greek perspectives (PJO, LO, Madeline Miller, etc.), so getting to learn what an actual Greek person thinks has been very enlightening and helped me redirect my dislike towards the proper target: Americans 😭

Can I ask if you know other Greek bloggers or youtubers who talk about history, the culture, and the mythology? Or life in the modern day? Research is one thing but I enjoy personal perspectives a lot, to get to know other cultures better through the people. I only know you and gemsofgreece so far, and most of the stuff on youtube/google are focused on tourism and "pop mythology" sadly. It is hard to search when you can't speak or type in Greek 😂

(P.S. what people do to Demeter in fandom sucks so much :(( it makes me sad)

Hii! I'm very glad the content of this blog was enlightening and you're with us in this anger 😄 #modern greece and #tourism might be tags I have that could be useful to you in what you look for.

Usually no one listens to Greeks so our content rarely has English subs 😂 For Tumblr blogs you can try @thrassa @wordsmithic @greek-mythologies @margaretkart @purple-amaranthe. On Youtube and instagram check archaeostoryteller and The Mythologist ! The Mythologist sometimes has English subs, archaeostoryteller doesn't most of the time :/ But archaeostoryteller , Dr. Theodoros Papakostas has books that will soon be translated in English. This archaeologist has a pop style approach to our history (some dislike this) but he never leaves any details outside of the story and I find him quite balanced. Him and The Mythologist have rekindled many Greeks' passion for our history.

[scorbleeo]

TV Series Discussion: Supergirl

Season 6 (2021)

Source: Google Images

The adventures of Superman's cousin and her own superhero career.

Source: IMDb (2015)

A Bittersweet End

I am going to start this out by saying I had no expectations for Supergirl Season 6. I might have watched all the previous seasons, but I was disappointed with the last or last 2 season(s). Although I adore Supergirl and the Super Friends, the plots were often average. Now thinking back, I can't even name a Supergirl villain that stuck to me.

That being said, this final season of Supergirl was much better than the previous seasons. It got me hooked onto the show and there were times when I was actually emotional. Although the villains were way below mid, the storylines were solid. And the action, I absolutely enjoyed it. Even the character developments were good. As a Supergirl season, season 6 was one of the better ones. As a final season, I believe it could have been better plotted.

Lets start with the villains. I'm not saying Nyxly was a marvellous villain but because of her existence and actions, it created several great storylines, especially the role it played into Kara's self-realisation, then development.

Lex on the other hand, his arc was so weirdly written. The Lex Luthor I was used to disappeared in season 6, for real. Him being in love really ruined his arc, when he could have gone down as one of the show's better villains. But, I like what the writers did with this character. I mean, people have tried to kill Lex, he lived. People have tried to incarcerate Lex, he walked away scott free. Other than the Phantom Zone, I doubt there would be another way to get rid of Lex once and for all.

As for Lillian. I hated her throughout all 6 seasons. I really did not like the idea of her redemption in the end but her redemption meant enlightenment for Lena. For that, I eventually accepted that there was a redemption arc for this infuriating woman. Perhaps, if her redemption was shown gradually through this last season, I might not have disliked the idea as much.

Through the entire season, I enjoyed more than I was bored. I liked more than I disliked. Unfortunately, there was something I seriously wished the writers never wrote down. What happened to William did not need to happen, or at least, not to him. It's not as if William's death meant the whole Super Friends was going on a revenge path, so why bring him back from being shot only to have him go permanently by being shot? He was the one character I constantly wished nothing happened to him since his first appearance...

Moving on to brighter topics, lets talk about Kelly. First thing first, that episode that was Kelly-centric? Wow. It was the first time Azie Tesfai impressed me. The way Tesfai portrayed Kelly in the episode, it was almost like I could feel everything Kelly was experiencing. Then came their wedding scene and I am never one for vows, not a romantic and could care less about wedding vows. However, Kelly's vows to Alex touched my heart. I really don't know if it's the words, Tesfai's acting, or the combination of both. Whatever it is, I finished Supergirl extremely aware of what a magnificent actress Tesfai is.

Next, Nia. Not only did Nia (and Dreamer) grow, Nicole Maines improved so much too. I never disliked Maines nor her character but the acting always felt a little awkward. Usually, I just let it go because if Nia is one awkward girl, Dreamer will be awkward too and thus the awkward acting. This last season proved me wrong because I still see awkward Nia but the acting very obviously improved. Completely off the tangent here but when Nia confronted Maeve? Atta girl! I loved it when Nia told her sister, she will not forgive her but she can give a second chance. That's the way, actually. How do people forgive without seeing how others handle their second chances?

Lastly, Kara's character arc. I have always loved it when Kara showed vulnerability. In this season, she's practically always vulnerable even when she's not actively attacked. It hurts to watch Supergirl lose hope so often but then the way the smallest things brought back some hope to her? Love it. The courage plot was something else too, something I did not see play out the way it did. As much as I loved it, I still don't know how I feel about the season ending with the world finding out Supergirl's identity.

After watching several Arrowverse shows consecutively, Supergirl was a nice end before a break from the Arrowverse TV shows. Although Kara and Mon-El are not endgame, I am still very happy that the finale brought back the old faces.

Rating: ★★★★☆

More Arrowverse here: Legends of Tomorrow Season 6 | The Flash Season 7

[greatprotector-if]

Okay, I'm a bit of a medieval weapons nerd so I gotta ask for.... Something.....

What kind of armor exists in the world? Is there plate armor? Gambeson? Have craftsman figured out brigandine yet? Also is there some kind of ultra strong metal like mithril in this world? Can we have equipment made of this material if it exists?

Finally as a personal question for you, what is your favorite sword and why is your favorite sword the hand and a half sword (the best sword in existence)?

...... What? You didn't think I called myself weird for fun did you? Niche and obscure topics are part of the weird package

i'm gonna be so honest with you i didn't know what ANY of this meant so i googled it and i would just like to say... Thank You. sincerely. i've been missing out wtf!!!! later when i have more time i will dedicate myself to going down a full rabbithole ancient armour and weaponry is so fascinating

the story takes place in a warmer climate inspired by south asia (and a bit of east asia) so while other stuff exists in other places, for here i don't think we're in the gambeson era that shit looks too stuffy. i mean it could work because alchemy + magic reasons but idk. i usually envision varying degrees of plate armour (and i genuinely have no idea what's going on with brigandine feel free to enlighten me LMAO I JUST LOOKED AT THE PICTURES AND WAS SO CONFUSED)

i take a lot of inspiration from pre-colonial era filipino armour, chainmail & plates. but also colourful and fancier looking because my brain loves colours and fancy looking shit. for a lot of character design stuff i usually evoke the Anime Outfits Suspension of Disbelief because i do not understand anything sorry for this absolute mess of an answer!

there's some ultra strong metal that you can make stuff out of yeah!!! however i have not come up with a name for it. it's a huge player in the economy of a neighbouring empire, but it's also mostly kept within the empire and rarely shared with outsiders. other stuff is DRAGON SCALES (AWESOME) (but only the ones from full-blooded dragons) (very tough and there are different kinds of dragons so you can make your shit out of different dragons based on the climate in your region) (don't worry the dragons aren't being hunted for materials they just shed their scales) (ok they're hunted sometimes but the hunters never succeed because Dragon)

also the armour does vary by species and region (obviously) and there are. so many. species. a lot of them. a lot of the armour employed by non-humans is magical or enchanted in some way idk it's just lore stuff

also yes you're right my favourite sword is the hand and a half sword as of uhhh checks watch.. two seconds ago. i googled it and this versatility sounds pretty awesome. also if i believe an alternate name is the 'bastard sword' which is fucking metal. but magical swords that slowly suck out the life force out of its wielder also hold a special place in my heart

okay this answer was so rambly and i feel like i just used as many words as i could without actually saying anything substantial but this is the best i got for now! but i will definitely revisit this topic in the future, so thank you tumblr user that-wierd-guy! (+ this topic isn't weird it's awesome)

[annonmaly]

Let's talk about these creepy masked dudes, or as their official name, The parade of Charlatan. In my mind, I never considered these guys as an imagination or a nightmare. Sometimes, I think that they are lost souls of dead vampires. Other times I think they are the victims of the catastrophe that resulted from the babel experiment. However, the thought that's winning in my mind now is that these creepy masked dudes are the "stolen true names" If you're bored and have lots of to spare for my 3 am rambling, you may continue reading. If not, scroll ahead.

If we think about it, Naenia's goal is to steal true names of the vampire, not to kill them. According to the dictionary stealing is to take (another person's property) without permission or legal right and without intending to return it. Therefore, these names must be in her possession, and maybe it's in plain sight, like maybe, they become part of the Parade. This idea is heavily inspired by FMA (I'm rereading the series, but part of my mind is still thinking about VnC, well, alchemy is also incorporated in vnc so this is inevitable)

This is the scene where Ed realized that there's hope after all, there's still a chance to achieve their goal of bring back their original body. (If your not familiar with FMA, google it) Now, to sum up Ed's very long explanation.

The soul inside Armor Al is a real soul since he has past memories before becoming a walking empty armor

Al is creating new memories even though he's just a soul inside an armor, he has no physical brain where memories is stored.

Conclusion: Al's physical body is still existing out there.

Also note that Ed mentioned that the mind is the one connecting the body and soul.

Ed mentioned that in alchemy there are three things in humans, the soul, body and mind. This is actually a real principle in alchemy called "Tria Prima". The Tria Prima, also known as the "Three Primes" or "Three Principles," is a concept rooted in alchemical philosophy. It represents the fundamental elements of all matter and is attributed to the Swiss physician and alchemist Paracelsus (Now you know why I'm inspired). It suggests that everything in the world is made up of three fundamental elements: Salt, which is the solid part like the body; Mercury (Memory), which is the fluid and changing part like the life force; and Sulfur, which is the fiery and active part like the emotions and soul. Balancing these elements is believed to lead to transformation and harmony in both substances and ourselves. Just like in alchemy, where the balance and harmonization of the Tria Prima lead to transformation and enlightenment, achieving a balanced state of these three principles within the human body is considered vital for overall well-being and personal growth. In holistic approaches to health, understanding and addressing the physical, energetic, and emotional aspects of individuals are often seen as crucial for promoting optimal health and vitality.

Going back to the parade of Charlatan, we know that the memories, body, and soul (true names) is important. And I think that the true names (soul) can't be stolen by just rewriting one's formula. So, I think the their modus is:

Naenia will curse the vampire by tampering the formula within them

The cursed vampires would be beheaded, separating the brain where the memories is stored (Remember Ed said that the mind is the one connecting the body and soul.) We know that Ruthven is part of the group and he has a high ranking position in the vampire world so he has the power. Therefore, they may created the rule that the cursed vampire could only be beheaded to help their scheme of stealing names.

Without memories, the true names (soul) of the vampire will be part of the parade (Yeah, I'm pushing the Louis is still out there agenda)

Back in Gavaudan, when Chloe tried to give Naenia a physical body, Vani specifically warned her that they shouldn't make the former who she is, because as revealed later, the death bringer is Faustina. Additionally, as shown by Amelia and Thomas, they can't remember anything when their malnomen is acting up. This is just a proof that someone that's part of the parade or on the process of being one, has their memories cut off to disconnect the body from a soul. This may also be one of the reason why Naenia can't easily take Noe's name since the latter has a problem with his memories.

Now, why does the charlatan collect true names (souls)? The answer that I could think of is that Ruthven and co. need to use them as an ingredient for their goal. They may want to rewrite the humans formula and transform them to be a vampire or vice versa, revive someone, commit genocide, or etc. However it is clear that there are preparation needed to do what they want, like the crazy doctor's experiment, the thing they stole in Gevaudan, and maybe the true names they stole are included.

[bells-of-black-sunday]

I apologize in advance, my words are not Smart.

BUT! I fuckin LOVE how you analyze your characters and break them down. For example, you obviously did more than a 10min Google search for/about Medieval times for your Knight muse(and also more for his Lore). Dude, don't even get me STARTED on your OCs and the world building!!! Like!!! DAMN, a whole BUFFET RIGHT THERE. It's all SO interesting to read, yet it's easy for me to follow (im an airhead) not to mention your design work with them.

Overall, I'm just happy to see ya on the dash. Everytime i open this app like a newspaper, im just :) whenever i see ya.

What about my portrayal sticks out? | Accepting

This is so sweet???? I'm really glad people like the random medieval things that I think are really interesting and tie into Tarhos in some way or form. The period in time he's from is really interesting? It's a really weird transitional period in history. And I think it's also really cool to just learn about the medieval period in general, because of how much we know about it, at least in the west, has been labeled the "dark ages" and we've been fed so many lies about it by what happened in the "enlightenment period" where they thought because times are good now they must've been 1000x worse back then. (i.e yes ofc people bathed back then, if you're working fields all day you don't want to sit in ur sweat, but that's still such a prevailing myth that came from the "enlightenment period")

Also!!! I'm so glad my ocs are easy to follow and you enjoy them??? I really enjoy the world that they live in and I'm currently designing one to help expand on Yijun and his door to door salesmen-ness. Oh! And I want to talk about why the princes lost their original titles where Leviathan stopped being the prince of fear and got labeled the prince of envy- that kind of stuff. It's really nice to know people are interested in that. ❤

[animentality]

Some optimism.

If you genuinely believe humanity is doomed and we will never fix everything wrong with society, then think about the people 100 years ago.

Who would've been astounded by how far we've come. Maybe even horrified by how different things became in just a century.

Things will get worse. But humans could get much much better. You never know what's coming around the decade. You never know how society will change radically.

Maybe it's a good change maybe it's bad. But change is always coming.

And all you can do is ride with the tide.

Think about things in 1922 and tell me that those people would've ever dreamt of having what we have.

Tell me those people could imagine landing on the moon or Google maps or satellites or drones or phones that could live stream things happening from totally opposite ends of the planet.

Tell me those people could see the growing expansion of rights for all or the condemnation of racism and colonialism and the strengthening of feminist movements. Tell me they could understand trans rights and nonbinary identities and the destruction of patriarchal and Christian hierarchies.

They would've been amazed, they would've been shocked. They might've been able to accept it.

They might've been glad they died when they did. But either way.

Think about how far we've come and how far we could go. Things might seem bleak. And we certainly can't become complacent.

But humanity does move forward.

Maybe in 2122, the world will be so different, we'd be amazed. And horrified.

But maybe it's not as bleak as you think. Maybe we have a lot to learn. Maybe things will be better than we expect. Maybe they'll be worse.

I'm sure people in 1922 knew how unfair things were. I'm sure they felt the world was ending and some day it would all fall apart and we'd only know pain and misery for the rest of our short species' life.

But no one can see the future. Even the enlightened among us.

I'm happy to be alive right now. Despite everything.

I want to watch the world change. I want to be a part of the good things and withstand the bad things. I don't want to die anymore. I want to live and see my grand, tiny piece of human history for as long as I can.

I'm glad I know you guys too.

It's incredible to share this planet at the same time as you.

It's heartbreaking to watch all the horrors.

But it's also wonderful when the beautiful things happen. It's indescribably miraculous to be alive at this second.

Some optimism, guys.

Some peace of mind, that the things you can't comprehend are not always evil.

[itsybitsylemonsqueezy]

could you PLEASE elaborate on "We Decided History Was Too Boring And Complicated So We Decided To Make Shit Up. It's Much More Exciting Now!" please? It's impossible to google, and I MUST know more!!!

Oh, of course bro!

What I said is wildly tongue-in-cheek, but I'm referring to mostly our popular conceptions of the Middle Ages ie. dark, brutish, and short, being taken not from the historical documents of the time, but rather from the reimagining of the Victorians later in life.

Look to, for instance, the romances of Sir Walter Scott. These are fiction, to be sure, but they're not accurate adaptations of the stories he was telling. Texts for Robin Hood existed long before Scott, but it's his version that seeped into American culture and so it's the version that you and I know best.

Or, for another example, Alfred, Lord Tennyson's retelling of Arthurian legend in Idylls of the King or all those gorgeous paintings of chivalric love? Like this one I see all the time:

This is called Hellelil and Hildebrand, the Meeting in the Turret Stairs. It was composed by Frederic William Burton in 1864. Burton was a Pre-Raphaelite, which was an artistic movement that resented the dominance of Raphael when it came to expressions of the human form. They wanted to try to obtain a pre-Renaissance ideal, both in technique and in subject matter. As a result, they over idealized and under researched the history of the time in an attempt to rebel against conformity. But this painting is familiar, no? Is it not our common understanding of chivalric ideals, unless you've gone out of your way to study medieval history and literature?

See, this is what we forgot from our standpoint in history, the Victorians were throwing off the yoke of their predecessors of the Enlightenment every bit as much as the Hippies of the 60s were reacting to the Beats of the 40s. It just so happens that the Victorian movement was able to spread throughout the British empire and all its economic allies due to the unique constellation of improved technology and the rate of commerce at the time. So we're left with this feeling of this grand, stalwart institution, The Victorians, when really they were just artists and scientists and laborers and fools just doing what felt new and fun as much as any of us are. They had no idea that they would be changing popular conceptions of history (except the times when they did, like refusing to study addiction or actively erasing the impact of women on culture).

Anyway, I love how much Victorians got wrong about their own history out of sheer desire to make it fit their ideals. They wanted to believe the past was better because they were witnessing man-made horrors beyond their comprehension, life lived at a rate no one ever had before. So they made the past a better place, where men were brave and women were honorable and class struggles ended peaceably and war was just. None of this was true, no more than it is now, but they so badly wanted to believe that it was. And so they made it that way.

And as much as it is a pain to go back and unlearn all of the lies they told, it's also funny to step back and think about these decisions as the work of people who were trying to cope. And told themselves little stories to try to make it better.