#(I simply believe that that is a problem that could be solved with money)

[jq37]

neme(sis)

Summary: The Rat Grinders actually fight the Bad Kids on the Hangman instead of just sending dragons and Adaine has to do some quick thinking.

"Adaine Abernant."

Adaine winced, clutching her head as Raulothim's Psychic Lance pierced her mind. It figured Oisin knew the spell. Raulothim was a dragon after all. She wondered if he learned it in class like her or if he'd come to school already familiar with the spell because of his dragon ancestor who was currently trying to swallow Gorgug, axe and all. She didn't wonder for too long though. There wasn't time.

"See what you can do with access to proper spell components?" Oisin called from the other side of the room, his tone mocking.

"That spell doesn't even have material components!" Adaine called back in spite of herself. Insulting her was one thing but getting basic spellcraft wrong while doing it? Unacceptable. She ignored his expression, smug from getting a rise out of her no doubt, and surveyed the battlefield. The Rat Grinders had caught them on their back foot. Things were going OK but they were playing defense. And no one was where they needed to be. Spellcasters too close to melee, fighters out of range. Only Gorgug was arguably in the right place but he was far too close to being dragon food for her liking. Fabian needed to be closer to the action, Riz needed cover, and she…

Adaine suppressed a smile, idea forming in her mind. She needed to be in punching distance.

"Scatter," she said, raising a hand. Five creatures: Gorgug, Riz, Fabian, Kristen…and Oisin.

Her party members didn't fight the spell, well used to the feeling of her magic working on them mid-battle and knowing that it never meant harm. As she moved them to more advantageous positions, she was hit with a flash of the future: Oisin resisting the spell. She reached out and nudged fate just a bit. Nearby, Ivy walked dangerously close to a breath weapon attack. Oisin startled, moved to grab her, and--pop. Suddenly, he was standing right next to Adaine who was already rearing her fist.

"Counterspell!" Oisin called, runes on his forearms glowing. The expression on his face was even more smug as the blue energy charging on her fist fizzled.

"Predictable," he said.

"Gullible," Adaine thought, halting her fist without following through on the punch and stomping her foot on the ground to activate the teleportation circle they were both now standing on. Because of course the boy with the empty house and unlimited funds would have a teleportation circle installed so he could have his friends over as often as possible. Teleportation via spell needed a willing creature but a Circle? That just needed proximity.

As the spell went off, she concentrated. The benefit of a teleportation circle was that it couldn't go wrong like a normal Teleport spell could. It wasn't supposed to anyway. But any magic could be tweaked if you pushed hard enough. She remembered winding up in the wrong room in the twisted version of Mordred inside Riz's briefcase and concentrated on that feeling. She was sure she was going to have a headache in the morning but that was more than a fair price. She wrenched control of the spell, just enough to force the circle to spit them out a little bit outside of the paired circle in Mordred. There was a flash of light and--forget having a headache tomorrow. Her head felt like it had been bashed in with a pickaxe the moment they landed on the floor of her bedroom. She didn't think she'd be able to get back up for a minute or two--she didn't even try. Oisin didn't seem to have that problem though. He got up and stood over her.

He smirked. "I thought the elven oracle was supposed to be more of a challenge. I knew we'd come out on top but I didn't think it'd be so easy." He raised his hands, readying a spell, but the sparks at his clawtips died as quickly as they were produced. He tried the spell again to the same result, too focused to notice the sudden subtle sheen to the patterns painted on her bedroom walls.

A Sending spell pinged in her mind. "Ten seconds, dear sister."

A smile played on Adaine's lips.

"What?" Oisin demanded.

"Just that you all have been so obsessed with being our nemeses this whole time. But that was never gonna happen with you and me. That position is already filled."

There was another flash of light and before it even cleared, Adaine felt the tingle of magic settling over her like a second skin. Her sister's abjurer's ward extending to cover her reflexively. Just beyond the ward, she could feel the temperature in the room start to drop--a side effect of the Cone of Cold that was about to erupt from Aelwyn's outstretched hands.

"You're familiar with my bitch of a sister, right?"

[fictionadventurer]

Hobbies need to be accessible. I believe that it’s becoming more and more important for people to have physical hobbies that create real things and develop real skills--giving people a sense of accomplishment and overcoming feelings of helplessness. But so often, it seems like even beginner-level instruction is aimed at making the entry barrier as high as possible.

I was reading this book where this guy argues that people should develop areas of “micromastery” when getting into a hobby. Find one small, achievable, but still impressive task to master, so you have a cool skill to show off (and the sense of accomplishment) without having to master an entire huge area of knowledge. Instead of learning to cook, learn to create a really good omelet. Instead of learning an entire new language, learn to count to ten. And then you have a knowledge base to help you if you want to explore further. Seems very common sense. Very accessible. Learning is for everyone, not just people who want to devote tons of time to a new hobby. But even that guy, in his instructions, keeps telling people to buy the most expensive equipment to have the best possible results. There’s even a point where he says “the more expensive, the better”!

That infuriates me. I am enraged. The guy who’s trying to make learning accessible to the masses is now saying this is the realm only of the rich! It’s telling people to buy into the marketing ploy that more expensive is automatically better! It’s absurd. It’s insane. There probably is equipment that improves the outcome of the final product, but it’s not necessarily the most expensive stuff, and you certainly don’t need the expensive stuff when you’re just starting out!

Yet, tutorials and craft books keep pushing this message. If you want to start drawing, you need an expensive sketch book and seven different pencils and different weights of pen, and the right eraser. If you want to bake, you have to have the best flours and the appropriate sourdough technique. If you want to knit, you better have the expensive yarn. That’s garbage, and it makes things more difficult than they need to be.

When you’re just starting out, you’re learning if you even like the activity. Do I like spending time drawing? Do I even like the process of knitting or woodworking or building model airplanes? It’s pointless to spend tons of money on good yarn only to find that you hate the process of knitting. Pointless to get the good pencils when the process of drawing makes you want to crawl out of your skin.

If you want to try something, just try it! As simply and cheaply as possible. Want to draw? Get a free pencil and a bit of notebook paper. Want to knit? Get a pair of knitting needles from the thrift store and some dollar store yarn. As you get deeper into the hobby, you’ll probably want to upgrade your supplies--but now that you know more about the process, you know what problems can be solved by better supplies.

I was always intimidated by bookbinding--the tutorials always talked about having the right glue and the right book press--until a guy in the comments said, “I use Elmer’s Glue and my laptop.” I could manage that! That was accessible! I got some glue and some big textbooks and made a book! Not perfect, but it wouldn’t have been perfect even if I had the fancy supplies--I was just starting out! And then I figured out that a paper cutter and some kind of tool to smooth the endpapers would be useful. So I got that--as cheaply as possible. I have made books and I have enjoyed it without a huge investment in time and money. And more tutorials need to take that approach. I refuse to believe that we have to give tons of money to the crafting industry. I refuse to believe that we have to be consumers in order to become creators.

[jordanrosenburg]

After watching the “Quiet On Set” documentary, I can’t help but feel like there are literally no good people in the entertainment industry. Even the “good” ones aren’t good. It solidifies that we don’t actually know anything about them. We only know who they present as to the media. 

I think like most people around my age, we grew up watching Nickelodeon during its golden age. I always looked forward to watching “All That” not only because it was funny, but because it was something I could watch with my older siblings. It was something the four of us could laugh together about. My sister and I still laugh over the bit from “Keenan and Kel” where Kel admits to dropping the screw in the tuna. So many iconic characters and television shows were created at the hands of Dan Schneider. 

What else was created at the hands of Dan Schneider were countless acts of abuse, harassment, manipulation, and much more. His sets were homes to child sexual abusers. Adults who are around children each and every day, taking advantage of their trust and innocence, grooming them and harming them physically and mentally. 

It’s not easy for victims of abuse to speak up. Many aren’t believed. Reliving trauma is a horrific experience, so I commend each and every person who shared their story for this docuseries. There were previous cast members who aren’t as well known who got to share their truths, there were crew members sharing stories about Dan’s harassment and sexism on set. There were many crew members that felt uncomfortable about the scenes they were shooting, but no one spoke up. Dan had so much power at Nickelodeon because he kept churning out hit after hit after hit. The parents weren’t much better, but I’ll come back to that. 

The docuseries revealed three adult men who were caught for child pornography, and for sexually abusing children. One man’s name is Brian Peck. He groomed Drake Bell for years. Joe Bell, Drake’s father, did everything he could to keep Brian away from Drake because he knew something just wasn’t right with how Brian acted around his son. Brian eventually convinced Drake to fire his father as his manager, and let his mother take over. This gave Brian the room to drive Drake to and from auditions, take him to Disneyland with him and his friends, and more. Drake Bell revealed in the documentary that Brian Peck sexually assaulted and abused him for years. Since Drake was a minor when it started, his identity was kept secret.

During the trial, many people wrote letters for Brian Peck, attesting to his character: James Marden, Taran Killam, Alan Thicke, Thomas DeSano, Ron Melendez, Rider Strong, and Will Friedle. Some of these names are extremely surprising, and others aren't at all.

Joanna Kerns saying, "there must have been some extreme situation or temptation exerted on him to influence is actions" at the time, and is now saying "I have now learned that my letter of support was based on complete misinformation.

Knowing what I know now, I never would have written the letter". For me, it's not even about her writing the letter, it's about her blaming Drake Bell, the victim, and child in the situation, as if Brian Peck wasn't a grown man who should have known better.

Kimmy Robertson also wrote victim blaming language in her letter of support for Brian Peck.

Rich Correll wrote, "it would be my pleasure to work with him again". And then he did! Brian was allowed to work on The Suite Life! Correll later said, they had no input or involvement in the casting". He also went on to say that, "Mr. Peck simply replied that 'the problem had been solved'".

The series went on from there, explaining how Dan’s behaviors just got worse and worse, and he “flew too close to the sun”. The inappropriate sexual innuendo bits on his shows happened more and more frequently. This included constant closeups on actors’ feet, many of the young female actresses being forced to be squirted in the face with various liquids to represent “money shots”. Ariana Grande probably had it the worst in that she had to film videos that went directly to YouTube, many of which included her biting her own toenails, squeezing a potato until juice squirted out of it, etc. Just absolutely disgusting things that do not make sense for a CHILDREN’S television show. These weren’t jokes for kids. This was Dan Schneider abusing his power, and seeing how much he could get away with. 

It wasn’t until Jeanette McCurdy’s mother died that Nickelodeon finally launched an investigation into Dan Schneider. Jeanette talks about this in her book, “I’m Glad My Mom Died”, which was a heart wrenching read, but well worth it. Jeanette returned to work a WEEK after her mother died from a long battle with cancer. Because of the backlash she got for that, Nickelodeon realized that it was the culture Dan created that probably made Jeanette feel like she had to come back, that she couldn’t take more time off. 

All Nickelodeon did was remove Dan from his sets, and made it so he could only watch from his office and give notes from there. Even though he wasn’t physically on set, the toxic and hostile environment was still alive and well because he was still watching everyone’s every move. 

Thanks to #MeToo, more and more women started speaking up about their experiences on set with Dan Schneider. And then in 2018 Nickelodeon finally kicked Dan Schneider to the curb after launching another investigation based off the new claims. The investigation didn't reveal proof of sexual abuse, but it revealed more cases of harassment of his actors and his crews.

Child stars are often made fun of and exploited by the media as they transition into adulthood. We watch their mental health decline until they’re caught having a breakdown. People point and laugh, and say it’s just another child star who couldn’t handle life as a grown up. But what I think a lot of people don’t understand is that many child stars are forced into the entertainment business. Parents put their financial burdens on their children, tell them they need to work to support the family. That’s a lot of pressure to put on a child. So, if something bad is happening on a set, a kid is going to be too afraid to speak up because they could be fired, and if they’re fired, then they’re not making money for their families. The parents are supposed to be on set and with the kids at all times. But so many turn the other cheek and don’t speak up because they don’t want to risk their kids getting fired. 

It just feels like no adults, not even the ones you’re meant to trust, are safe to be around. In some way, shape, or form these kids get abused. Whether it’s sexual abuse, racism, inflicted eating disorders, or other types of mental abuse, they’re not safe. No one is looking out for them. Everyone is more concerned with making money. 

The entertainment industry squeezes the youth dry and tosses them aside when they can’t legally control them anymore. And we wonder why so many of them have a tough time later on in life. The lucky ones are helped through therapy, and the not so lucky ones either turn up dead, broke, abused, or end up abusing others as they were abused. 

I am feeling very sad and heartbroken. And I’m not sure where to go from here. So many of these shows have brought me comfort and laughs over the years. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to enjoy them again. Is it okay to sit and watch reruns or should we be boycotting everything? I want to help in the ways that I can, but I also know that the world will stop caring about this in a week or so when the next big truth bomb about something else is dropped. 

People who have no moral conscious, people who are okay letting children be hurt for the sake of their own wallets shouldn’t have any power. And I hope everyone involved in hurting these kids, past and present, is forced to answer for what they did. I hope they’re shamed and cancelled and doxxed and everything else bad that can happen to people like them. I hope they go broke and become ruined. And at this point, I hope Nickelodeon just crashes and burns. They don’t deserve any salvation. 

[raaorqtpbpdy]

This Sure as Hell Never Happened on Scooby-Doo

While investigating a fairly routine haunting in a Michigan hotel, Sam and Dean come face to face with a creature unlike any they've faced before. [Takes place around mid season 1 for SPN, and at a non-specific point in the DP timeline]

Written for @crossoverdanuary Week, Day 7: Supernatural | Veil

First off, congrats to Supernatural for finally making the main prompt list after two years of being an honorable mention lol. I had a lot of trouble coming up with an idea for this one for some reason, so it ended up being kind of generic. This is, however, the first time I've ever written the Full Hazmat AU, which was pretty exciting.

AO3 Link

[Warning for minor violence, and references to suicide throughout]

As a general rule, hunters steered clear of Amity Park, although the reason why varied from one to another.

Some believed all the so-called supernatural occurrences there were just a hoax, like Bigfoot, so there was no point wasting valuable time and energy looking into them. Others swore up and down that, hoax or not, there was something about that town that made you see things. Impossible things. Things that made even the most experienced hunters pause. Some simply believed that Amity Park could take care of itself. Outside interference would only cause more problems than it would solve.

Then there were those who believed that Amity Park, that the very town itself, didn't want them there. That hunters were just not welcome.

The town was infamous in the hunter community. Grizzled, plaid-wearing men would talk about it at roadhouses and truck-stop diners. They'd warn other people away, tell them not to even drive through it on their way to somewhere else. There was nothing in that town worth dying for, and they took care of their own. Hunters weren't needed, they weren't wanted, and they'd just do better if they stayed away.

Every once in a while though, Amity Park's unique brand of freaky bled out of that isolated town. And when it did, then it became the hunters' problem. Unfortunately, more often than not, they wouldn't know it until it was too late.

Sam and Dean were investigating a supposedly haunted hotel. Staff and guests they'd spoken to had all reported blinking lights, cold spots, scratching in the walls. The staff seemed content to blame it on the owner's unwillingness to spend money to fix or update anything. The guests, on the other hand, not so much.

Those who stayed overnight reported horrible nightmares about bleeding out from their wrists. Some of them even claimed to have seen things, although they couldn't seem to agree on what they saw. A few saw a woman, covered in blood from slit writs, and crying, who vanished in the blink of an eye. But another claimed to have seen a small figure in a partially melted hazmat suit.

"Could there be more than one?" Sam asked when they'd returned to their own room in the hotel.

It was more expensive than the crappy motels they usually stayed it, but it was more convenient, and it gave them an excuse to wander around if they were actually staying there.

"Maybe, but... I don't know. If someone committed suicide in the hotel, it makes sense that their spirit would linger," Dean said. "I just can't think of any reason why there would be a ghost in a hazmat suit. Can you?"

"If the building used to be some kind of lab or research facility, it's possible," Sam said, "But this hotel was established back in the late thirties, and even if there was a research facility here before the hotel, the hazmat suit he described was much more modern than they would have worn back then."

Dean scoffed as he plopped down on his bed.

"Of course, leave it to my nerd brother to know what hazmat suits looked like in the thirties," Dean mocked. "Seriously though, that second ghost just doesn't make any kind of sense."

"We'll know more once we find info about anyone whose died in this hotel," Sam said. "This place has been in business for almost seventy years, I'm sure we'll have plenty to wade through."

"It could have been that guy was just making up a story," Dean said. "We've got three people claiming they saw a woman who disappeared, but only one mentioned the hazmat suit. Maybe he was messing with us."

"He seemed pretty shaken up about it," Sam said. "I didn't think he was lying."

"I didn't either, but...." Dean shook his head thoughtfully. "Something about that story just doesn't sit right. And you know what else? That redheaded girl who got all defensive when we started acting questions. Something doesn't sit right about her, either. She acted like she was responsible, or trying to protect the person who was. Except we already know this is a haunting. We know there's at least one ghost, so why did she act like that?"

"I don't know," Sam said. "Could be she was trying to hide something else."

"Maybe...."

"Come on," Sam said. "Let's start by combing through local death records at the library."

"You go ahead," Dean told him. "I wanna talk to that girl's parents, see if they know anything. I'm starting to think there might be more to this case than just a standard haunting."

"Fine. We'll meet back here later."

—

"So, what'd you find?" Dean asked when his brother got back to their room.

"Okay, so get this," Sam began. "There have been several deaths in this hotel. A couple of heart attacks, a couple of accidents. One guy fell out his window, which caused the hotel to seal all the windows on the upper floors shut so they couldn't be opened. There have also been three suicides since the hotel's founding.

"A World War 2 vet shot himself in the head in December of 1945, just a few months after the war ended; A girl OD'ed in 1963, leaving a note about how the state of the world had made her unwilling to live in it; and lastly, a woman in 1992 slit her wrists in room 201 after her husband divorced her, blaming her for the murder of their only son."

"Sounds like we've ID'ed our first ghost," Dean noted. "We got a name?"

"Jennifer Bishop," Sam said. "She was accused of murdering her son, but never convicted because they never actually found the body, only a whole lot of blood they identified with DNA testing. She defended her innocence until her death, but the police never actually investigated anyone else for her son's disappearance and presumed death. Once she offed herself, they just closed the case."

"Another gold standard of police incompetence," Dean said. "Did you find out where she was buried?"

"Her family was catholic, but since she committed suicide, they couldn't bury her in their family plot at their church. Instead, she was buried in a public cemetery, Lincoln Memorial Park... but it's in her hometown: Petoskey, Michigan. She was only here for the trial."

"Great, so we gotta drive all night to get to friggin' Petoskey," Dean moaned. "Awesome. This is why hotel ghosts suck. Did you find any leads on hazmat suit?"

"Nothing. What about you?" Sam asked. "Get anything useful interviewing that red-headed girl's parents?"

"Nah," Dean said, shaking his head. "Remember those hellhoundslair dorks?"

Sam nodded.

"That's what they were like," he continued. "Overenthusiastic, but incompetent. She probably realized we were asking about ghosts and was nervous they'd overhear. While I was talking to them she reminded them they'd promised not to hunt any ghosts while their family was on vacation. They didn't seem too happy about that, but they at least stopped insisting they'd help me 'catch that slippery specter', so that was something, I guess.

"I did learn she has a younger brother, though. I didn't get to talk to him, but when I was leaving, I overheard the two kids talking, and he said something like, 'there's not enough of her there to talk to', and 'there's not a whole lot left of her at all," Dean finished. "Not sure what that was all about, but it seemed like they were trying to keep it on the down-low, especially from their parents."

"You think it could be related?" Sam asked.

"As far as I know, the brother never promised not to hunt ghosts," Dean replied with a shrug. "That and a gut feeling are pretty much all I have to base it on, though."

"Well, we know who our suicide is, at least," Sam said. "One of us should go take care of Jennifer Bishop while the other stays here in case she starts causing anymore trouble, or in case the hazmat ghost shows up again, if its even real."

"Why don't you take the salt-and-burn this time," Dean suggested.

Sam froze and looked at his brother, completely shocked. "You... want me to take your car and drive two hundred miles away... by myself?"

"And if you bring her back with so much as a scratch on her, I'll make you wish you were never born," Dean said. "But I feel like there's something at this hotel that I'm missing, and I'm gonna stick around until I figure it out."

"It's really bugging you, huh?" Sam noted. "Alright, well... it's a three hour drive, so I'd better get going."

"Yeah, and don't forget to fill up the tank on your way back."

"Yeah, yeah," Sam said as he walked out the door.

They'd already brought some weapons from the trunk into the hotel room, so Dean wouldn't be unarmed if he ran into one of the ghosts.

He did some quick math in his head. The ghost, or ghosts, probably wouldn't show up until it was night. Sam had a six-hour round trip, plus a good hour to dig up old Jennifer, probably longer, since he wouldn't have help. It was early afternoon now. 1:18 pm, a glance at the clock told him, so he could expect Sam back around nine-ish, give or take an hour. Sunset was around seven.

Jennifer would be gone well before nightfall... but that other ghost... if it even existed, they didn't have a single lead on it.

Dean headed down to the lobby.

He'd noticed them yesterday, a group of older ladies with a basket of yarn in the middle of them, chatting up a storm. He and Sam hadn't spoken to them yesterday, but now that Sam was gone, it was time for Dean to dial up a very particular type of charm that Sam would tease him for mercilessly if he ever saw it. He stood nearby, waiting for his moment.

"I swear," one lady said. "I turned up my thermostat four times last night. I had it cranked all the way up to ninety, and I could hear the radiator groaning like anything, but my room was still freezing."

"Did you phone the concierge?" another lady said.

"I tried, but they just apologized and said it's an old hotel," replied the first. "Didn't even offer to send a handyman, or move me to a different room or anything. Anyway, that's why started coming down here during the day. I just can't stand it."

That was his chance. "You too?" he asked her. "Which room are you in?"

"I'm in 201, why?"

Bingo. 201. The same room as their suicide victim.

"Well, it got to a point where I got my tools outta my car and just fixed the darn radiator myself," Dean lied. "I could take a look at yours too, if you'd like."

"Would you?" she asked, sounding beyond relieved. "Oh, thank you so much. It's gotten so bad I can hardly sleep at night, so that would be a real godsend if you would do that. You're such a lamb."

"Oh, it's no problem, ma'am," Dean said, taking an empty seat nearby. "The name's Dean, by the way."

"I'm Millie," the woman said. "And these are my friends, Cathy and Debbie. We're in town for a big doll convention. We're collectors, you know. And Debbie even makes dolls herself out of felt."

"I do, and I've gotten pretty damn good at it, if I say so myself," Debbie said. "I even made a felt baby doll for my granddaughter's birthday a few months back and she was over the moon."

Upon closer inspection, all three of the ladies seemed to be knitting or crocheting very small clothes, presumably for dolls. Hopefully he could redirect the topic of conversation back to ghosts soon, because Dean didn't know Jack about dolls.

"What about you?" asked the third woman, Cathy. "What brings you to Lansing? I assume you don't live here, or you wouldn't be staying at a hotel."

"I'm here on business," he replied, silently thanking god that she'd changed the topic for him.

"What kind of business?" Millie asked. "You said you can fix a radiator, are you some kind of technician, or construction worker?"

"Actually... I'm a private investigator," he lied.

"Oooh, exciting!" Cathy said. "What are you investigating?"

"I'm afraid I can't share the details... but maybe you ladies could help me," he said. "Have any of you seen anything strange while you've been staying here?"

"I saw a man dancing near the park who could clasp his hands behind his back and pull them all the way in front of him," Debbie said. "That was pretty strange. I gave him a dollar."

"I was thinking more like in the hotel," Dean said. "Maybe like... a figure in a hazmat suit?"

Millie gasped, and Dean fixed his gaze on her.

"You have?"

"Well... you see, I have sleep paralysis," she said. "Last night, I had only managed to fall asleep for an hour or two because it was so cold, but then I woke up in the middle of the night because my room suddenly got even colder, but I couldn't move, of course. It takes me a while to be able to move after I wake up.

"And then I saw, like you said, someone wearing a hazmat suit, a black one with white gloves. They were small, like they weren't fully grown, and they were glowing," Millie explained. "Their suit was damaged, partly melted, it looked like. I'd never seen something like that before, but I just figured it had to be a sleep paralysis hallucination, and maybe it partly was, but do you think it could have been real? That someone broke into my room last night?"

"How frightening," Debbie said with a shiver.

"Maybe," Dean said. "Maybe not. I'm not really sure yet." He paused, consideringly. That was two people now who saw the hazmat suit, and this one saw it in the same room where the other ghost had died. "Did it say anything to you? Or do anything that you saw?"

"I couldn't really turn my head, but they seemed like they were looking for something, didn't seem to find it though. Nothing was missing from my room when I finally got up, at least," Millie said. "They didn't say anything, and only looked at me for a moment. Oh! But they might've been muttering something. Not sure what it was, though."

"Thanks, that's a lot of help," Dean said. "If you think of anything else, let me know?"

"Do you think I'm in danger?" Millie asked. "Should I request a room change after all?"

"If that would make you feel safer," Dean said. "I'm not sure it's as cut and dry as a break-in... but maybe you should just stay in one of your friend's rooms for a night."

"You can stay in my room tonight, Millie," Cathy volunteered.

He stayed for a little while, chatting with them. It wasn't something he wanted getting out, but old ladies always loved him for some reason. He even managed to get Cathy's key-lime pie recipe, which the other two swore up and down was absolutely to die for. Who knew when the next time he'd have a kitchen to try it out would be, but he'd make sure to write it down next chance he got, just in case.

It wasn't until he saw that red-haired teenage girl and a short, black-haired boy who was presumably her brother walk through the lobby that he excused himself to follow after them, claiming they were persons of interest in his case.

"If you didn't find anything, how did you even know it was the right room?" the sister was asking when Dean got close enough to hear.

He was trying hard not to be noticed while he tailed them, but as quietly as they were talking, he had to stick closer than he would have liked.

"That was where her presence was the strongest," the brother answered. "I just don't know how I'm supposed to help her when she's not strong enough to speak, and we're leaving tomorrow, so tonight is my last chance."

Could he be a psychic of some kind? Maybe a medium?

He turned around abruptly, and Dean barely had time to make it look like he was examining a shop's window display of... glass baubles and nick-knacks. Oh, yeah, he definitely seemed like the type to be interested in those. Hopefully they wouldn't question it.

"Is he staying at our hotel?" the brother whispered.

"Yeah," the sister confirmed, "and he was asking about cold spots and flickering lights, too. You think he knows something?"

"I think I'd rather stay away from him," replied the brother. "He could be the dangerous type."

After that, it seemed like the kids were deliberately trying to shake him, and it wasn't long before they did, almost as if they'd simply vanished into thin air.

Dean gave up searching and returned to the hotel. He found Millie in the lobby and asked if she'd let him into her room to fix the radiator, even brought the few tools that he'd had in his room to make the story more convincing.

"Even if you don't stay in here tonight, I figure I can at least do the hotel a favor," he said.

"Well, I'll leave you to it," she said. "Don't you go snooping around in my underwear drawer," she teased, and he laughed along with her until she closed the door behind her and headed back downstairs to her knitting.

Any evidence that there had been a suicide in this room had been long since erased. It was cold, just as Millie said it was, but there didn't appear to be any problem with the radiator. One of the tools he'd brought along was an iron crowbar, and he gripped it tightly.

"Jennifer, you in here?" he called out.

The time was 5:06, meaning Sam was probably digging up her grave right now.

He got no response.

"Jennifer?" he called again. "Jennifer Bishop?"

Nothing.... he was pretty sure that kid had been saying she wasn't a very powerful ghost, maybe that was why she hadn't done much. She hadn't actually killed or even hurt anyone beyond a couple of nightmares and a cold room. Maybe she couldn't show herself during the day.

The Winchester brothers had only stopped here because they happened to be so close by when Sam read an article that claimed guests at this hotel had seen apparitions, and experienced horrible nightmares about a woman slitting their wrists. But the nightmares weren't actually killing anybody. Normally, they wouldn't have even bothered, but they were only a few miles away, and nothing else was close by.

Dean opened his mouth to call out one more time, but before he could, there was a flash of light and a distant-sounding screen, and he watched as the ghost of Jennifer Bishop appeared and almost instantaneously disappeared.

One down. One to go.

And wow was this room suddenly sweltering. Millie wasn't kidding about turning her thermostat up to ninety. Dean adjusted it to a much more reasonable 74°F, and left to go tell Millie he'd fixed her radiator.

After she was done thanking him, he headed up to his room and called Sam.

"Dean?" Sam said. "I took care of Jennifer Bishop."

"I know, I saw her burn up," Dean replied. "Nicely done. Anyway, I got some new info about our second ghost."

"Yeah? Let's hear it."

"The lady staying in the room where Jennifer offed herself said she saw a glowing figure in a hazmat suit in her room, thought it was a sleep paralysis thing until I brought it up. She said it seemed like it was looking for something, but it didn't seem to find anything."

"So we have a second witness for our hazmat ghost," Sam said. "And the description lined up?"

"Exactly," Dean confirmed. "I also have a new theory about those siblings, the red-headed girl and her brother. I think the brother might be a psychic, and was looking for a way to help Jennifer pass on peacefully, except she wasn't a strong enough spirit for him to connect with. Not sure how or even if this ties into the hazmat ghost at all."

"Still no clues about who it could be?" Sam asked.

"Nada," Dean said. "I did confirm that there was no lab or any kind of scientific facility at this site before the hotel was built. According to the hotel manager, before it was a hotel, it was a movie theater that went out of business during the great depression and got torn down, and before that, it was live-theater, but I'm pretty sure that was before hazmat suits were even invented. Before that, nothing. Just an empty lot."

"So maybe we're looking for someone who died somewhere else and their spirit was brought to the hotel connected to a cursed object," Sam suggested. "Have you seen anything in the hotel that looks like it might have come from a lab? Or belong to some kind of scientist?"

"If it was something that belonged to them, then it could be anything," Dean pointed out in exasperation. "A chair, or a painting, or a vase? I'm not gonna be able to find it unless I know what it is."

"You'd better start looking into any deaths in the area that might have been related to radioactive materials then," Sam said. "Any kind of death that might have occurred while the deceased was wearing a hazmat suit."

"Yeah, something that would have burned right through it," Dean said. "According to our descriptions, the suit is partially melted."

"You got this Dean?" I still have two and a half hours of driving to go.

"Yeah, I got it," Dean replied.

He did not got it. He got nothing. He stayed at the library until it closed at eight and didn't find a single death that fit the description. He got back to the hotel around the same time Sam did.

"Did you fill the tank?" he asked immediately.

"Yes, Dean, I filled the tank," Sam replied, rolling his eyes. "Did you identify our hazmat?"

Dean shook his head. "Nah, I couldn't find squat. It's like this ghost is..."

"A ghost?" Sam finished for him, raising an eyebrow.

Dean scowled. That had been what he was about to say, but he knew it sounded stupid, that's why he'd stopped.

"Yeah."

Sam shook his head as they went back up to their room.

—

The brothers were still puzzling out what to do about their second ghost, Dean cleaning his guns while Sam poured over their dad's journal, when they heard a muffled gasp from above them. Floating there on the ceiling was a figure in a hazmat suit, its faint glow barely visible in the light of the room.

For an instant, none of them moved. Then, acting quickly, Dean grabbed the crowbar that was next to him on the bed and flung it at the figure on the ceiling.

Rather than passing right through, causing the hazmat ghost to dissipate, the crowbar made contact with a clang, hitting it right on the head and knocking it to the floor between the two beds.

"Quick, salt, Sammy!" Dean shouted, rather than gape at the seemingly unconscious 'ghost' on their floor.

He tried to grab the hazmat-wearing figure, and to his surprise, it worked. He dragged it into the armchair in their room while Sam laid a ring of salt around it.

"Do you actually think this'll work, Dean?" Sam asked. "I mean, it doesn't seem like any ghost I've ever seen. Iron is supposed to repel ghosts, not actually hit them. I'm pretty sure this is something else."

"Iron hurt it—"

"Being hit in the head with a crowbar hurt it," Sam pointed out. "Based on that, it could be human for all we know."

"It was on the ceiling, Sam," Dean said flatly, grabbing the iron chains from under the bed and wrapping them around their captive. "And this don't look like Spider-Man to me."

"Well it doesn't look like a ghost, either," Sam insisted.

"So, what, you think this is some kind of Scooby-Doo situation?" Dean asked. "We'll pull off the mask and it turns out it's just some shady real-estate developer who wanted to get the hotel closed down so they could turn it into a theme park? Let's try it then."

Dean grabbed the hood of the hazmat suit and tore it off. 

They both gasped at what they saw.

Whoever it was, he looked young, maybe 13 or 14. His hair was as white as sheet and floated on an imaginary breeze. His face was dark. Lightning-bolt scars criss-crossed it all the way down to the neck until they disappeared under the suit's collar. His skin appeared to be badly burned, flaking off in ashes which vanished before they hit the ground.

He groaned as he started to come back to consciousness, and when he opened his eyes, they were a solid, eerie green, glowing so brightly they almost hurt to look at, even in the well-lit room.

"Still think he's human?" Dean asked quietly.

Sam shook his head, wide-eyed and dumbstruck.

"This sure as hell never happened on Scooby-Doo."

"Ugh," the mysterious boy groaned again, blinking and shaking his head like he was trying to get his bearings. "Did you seriously throw a crowbar at my head?" he demanded after a moment. "What the hell, dude?!"

"What are you?" Sam demanded. "A demon?"

"I'm a ghost, what the hell does it look like?" the boy replied.

"You don't look like any ghost we've ever seen," Dean said.

"Let me guess, you're more used to shades like the other ghost that was floating around this hotel, right?" the kid guessed. "She seems to have left the building though. You two got any idea why?"

"We took care of her," Dean replied. "Sam dug her up and salted and burned her bones. And if you really are a ghost, then we can do the same to you."

"You... you straight up ended her?" he asked. "Just like that? You didn't even give her the chance to move on? Ancients, what the hell!"

"She had the chance to move on when she died, and she didn't take it," Dean said. "Instead she terrorized people, so we showed up to stop her."

"She gave a few people nightmares! Everyone has nightmares sometimes! You didn't have to destroy her!"

"What's it to you, did you know her?" Sam asked. "She a friend of yours?"

"Well... no, but I was trying to?" the boy replied. "She was too weak to capture, and I didn't want to destroy her by trying to fight, so I was trying to learn more about her and help her move on."

"If you're a ghost, why don't you move on?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, what's keeping you around?" Dean echoed the sentiment more harshly.

"The same thing preventing you from salting and burning my bones," came the reply. The so-called ghost did not elaborate.

"And what would that be?" Dean finally asked.

"I guess you could say I'm not dead enough yet."

"So you're not a ghost, then," Sam said.

"I am," said the boy. "I'm not a shade, like that woman you ended. I'm what a ghost is like when we actually have enough power to be a whole person and not just a shadow of our former self. I'm a ghost like you've never encountered before."

"Whatever you are, we're gonna get rid of you," Dean jeered.

"Why?" asked the boy. "I haven't hurt anyone. All I did was try to help another ghost pass peacefully through the veil. Don't you hunters have any sort of moral code?"

"So, what?" Sam asked. "You're proposing we just let you go?"

"Fat chance," Dean scoffed.

"Not exactly," the ghost replied with a smirk. "More like I'm telling you not to feel to guilty when I escape." Then the ghost stood up, iron chains falling right off him. "Iron is more difficult to pass through without destabilizing, but not too much of a challenge for ghosts like me. Sorry, but this will be the last time we see each other."

With that, he pulled his hood back on, obscuring his face once more, so the only thing visible was the glow of his eyes behind the black lenses of his mask. Then he flew right up through the ceiling.

The Winchesters tried to find him. They searched the hotel top to bottom, probably looking half-mad, but he was gone. He'd simply vanished without a trace. And they never did see him again.

[fantasyescapes17]

Wings (Part 5, Final)

Your debut in society was as spectacular as one could be, but nobody had prepared you for what came afterward. When you find yourself overwhelmed during your very first season and unable to keep up with the rat race to secure yourself an eligible husband, a curious mentor appears- in the form of notorious flirt and self-proclaimed rake, Mr. Kim Mingyu.

Genre: Mingyu x Female!reader. Regency!AU. You are Jeonghan's sibling so your last name is Yoon but the reader has no other physical characteristics.

Warnings: smoking (don't smoke kids, the characters in this story are from a time when they didn't know how bad it was for their health)

Word Count: 4.5k+

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Series Masterlist [You WILL need to read Patience, the earlier installment in this series first in order to understand the character dynamics in this story. Reading Candle before this is also strongly recommended.]

You had attended a handful of weddings in your life, but nothing could ever compare to your sister’s wedding to Mr. Choi. It was not the most lavish or spectacular event of the year. It was a simple ceremony in your local church with hardly twenty people in attendance. 

But no amount of decor or grandeur could have compensated for the utter devotion in the bride and groom’s eyes. The longing, the respect, the unconditional trust they both shared was too large to be contained within themselves. Their love was no game. It was an unavoidable truth. Every single person in the church felt it. Even, to an extent, your mother, who watched the ceremony in silence and did not make any attempt to ruin it. 

By the time the bride and groom departed for their long-awaited honeymoon, your handkerchief was soaked through with your tears.

“I think this has been an emotional week for all of us,” Jeonghan said to you as you both left the church. His voice was steady but you could see the mistiness in his eyes. “A lot of people were involved in making this wedding possible- not least of all, you.” 

You smiled up at your brother. “They had suffered long enough.” 

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow. “And your suffering?”

You turned away from him quickly, sensing the approach of a topic that you did not wish to discuss. “I must find Jiwoo-” 

“No. Jiwoo is perfectly fine, he is with his governess,” your brother told you firmly, determined not to allow you to escape. “I am not an idiot, sister. I have given up attempting to find out exactly what occurred between yourself and Mr. Kim but my acquaintances tell me that he is on a journey across the English countryside and has been drinking every inn and tavern in his path dry.” 

You flinched at the mention of Mr. Kim. You had been avoiding any news of him; you did not want to even think about the man. 

“Unfortunate,” you said coldly. “Perhaps someone should intervene.” 

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow. “So you have no intention of intervening yourself?” 

You stared at your brother in disbelief. “And what exactly do you expect me to do, Jeonghan? Do you consider me responsible for Mr. Kim’s health? Should I be following him around taverns and begging him not to imbibe? Please tell me how I could possibly prevent a fully grown gentleman from making poor choices with his time and money.” 

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow. “I expect nothing from you. But when you react so strongly to a simple suggestion, it makes it difficult for me to believe that nothing occurred back in London.” 

“I do not wish to talk about it-”

“You must at least tell me what he did-” 

“No, I must not. I love you, brother; but please, stop this line of inquiry.” 

Jeonghan’s jaw clenched. It was not anger- he was simply frustrated, being too used to single-handedly solving the family’s problems. Having been left in the dark was difficult for him, but it was not enough to convince you to talk to him about your experiences in London. 

You wanted to put them far, far behind you. 

“Jiwoo!” you called out to the young boy. He was walking with his elderly governess, looking rather tired and sleepy. “You look quite exhausted; shall we go home?” you turned to his governess with a smile. “I can take Jiwoo from here. Mr. Choi would have informed you that he will be staying with me at the Yoon estate until the couple are back from their honeymoon.” 

The governess nodded and handed Jiwoo over to you. “Of course, my lady.” 

Jiwoo blinked up at you. “When will father be back?” 

“In a week,” you promised him. “But we shall have lots of fun together until then. Are you excited?” 

Jiwoo grinned up at you, looking a little more awake. “Yes.” 

“Come along, then- the carriage is waiting for us. Let us go home.” 

Jeonghan and your sister-in-law were still conversing with other wedding guests near the church so you went ahead and climbed into the carriage with Jiwoo. The carriage could double back for the others- the church was only a few minutes from the manor. Jiwoo cheerfully told you about his studies and his new pet frog, Bernard during the short carriage ride to the Yoon estate. 

You sensed that something was wrong as soon as the carriage door opened. There was a strange horse munching on the immaculate lawns near the manor entrance, and a servant-maid came running up to you, looking somewhat agitated. 

“Miss Yoon,” the maid said hurriedly. “Mr. Kim Mingyu arrived earlier this morning. I tried to tell him that everyone was at the wedding, but he insisted on waiting in the drawing room! He said he wanted to speak to you in particular, and I did not know if that was appropriate-” 

You took a deep breath. Your chest felt tight. You had known that you would have to face Mr. Kim Mingyu again, but you were not prepared for it to be right after your sister’s wedding while your emotions were still raw. You had expected that you would have more time to prepare for that particular encounter. 

Then again- Mr. Kim had never been so easily predictable. 

“I will handle it,” you told the maid calmly. “Please take Jiwoo upstairs. He is quite tired from the wedding, I am sure he could use a nap.” 

The maid took the young boy away and you allowed yourself a brief moment to regain your composure before walking into the drawing room. 

Mr. Kim was seated in an armchair, but he leapt to his feet as soon as you entered the room. He looked almost worse than he had the last time you saw him in London. He did not reek of whisky anymore but his bloodshot eyes, pale face and dry lips told you that his last drink had not been very long ago. Mr. Kim's handsome face was marred by fear, and his dark eyes looked anxious.

“Miss Yoon-”

“Mr. Kim,” you greeted him coldly. “I must assume that you were not aware of my sister’s wedding or you would surely have not come while the family was busy celebrating an event that you were not invited to.” 

Mr. Kim stared at you for a long moment in absolute silence. His hands were shaking and he bowed his head. 

“I-I was not aware of your sister’s wedding, allow me to offer my congratulations,” he said finally.

“The couple has already left for their honeymoon. You are too late to congratulate them.” 

“Ah.” 

“Was there a reason behind this unexpected visit?” you demanded. 

“I-I had to speak to you.” 

“Then speak.” 

There was a long silence that ensued. Your heart was beating at an unnatural rate. You could see the agony in every inch of Mr. Kim’s posture and as he bit his lip and ran his fingers through his hair. A part of you- the part of you that had fallen in love with him- ached to see him like this. But there was another part of you that remembered your own wounds and pain, and swiftly suppressed any sympathy that you could feel for him. 

The large grandfather clock in the corner of the room was ticking loudly. 

“Do you have anything to say?” you asked after an entire minute had gone by. “Or is it your intention to make me wait in silence all afternoon?” 

Mr. Kim cleared his throat. He was avoiding your gaze. “I am sorry. I-I had planned what to say to you, but somehow the words felt…” 

“Empty? Rehearsed?” you demanded. “Or perhaps you thought that your mere presence would be enough to move me, and that words were not necessary? Was it not you who taught me some vacuous nonsense about the art of silence?” 

He looked pained. “No, of course not-” 

“If you are struggling to find something to say, Mr. Kim, then allow me to spare you the effort. There is nothing that you could say that would ever make me forgive you."

His eyes snapped up to meet yours, wide and horrified. "Please don't say that-"

"I am not in the habit of lying."

"I am not here to lie to you," he insisted hotly. 

You clenched your fists and glared at him, almost challenging him to try and manipulate you again. 

"Then go on, Mr. Kim. Prove that you are not merely the rake that the world sees you as. Say one thing to me that is not some attempt to contrive or manipulate me. A single sentence that is not rehearsed, and that truly comes from your heart."

Mr. Kim took a deep breath and stepped closer to you. "I-I have been thinking about what I said to you, and-"

"No, try again," you said coldly. 

"I never meant to hurt you-"

"That is clearly a lie. Try again."

His face was beginning to turn red. "I was overwhelmed by my emotions and-"

"Excuses, excuses."

"I love you!" he burst out finally. His face was red and he was breathing heavily. "I love you, Miss Yoon, I love you so much that I cannot contain these emotions inside of my heart and this love overwhelms my thoughts, feelings, self-respect and every rational part of my mind. I love you more than I have ever loved anything in this world."

The confession was loaded. It hit you like a train- even you could not maintain your strong facade in the face of those heated words and Mr. Kim's dark, passionate gaze. 

"The right words," you said quietly, your voice cracking. "If only you had said them two weeks ago."

Mr. Kim's shoulders fell. 

"I know that I have no right to stand before you like this," he said passionately. Mr. Kim stepped closer to you and reached for your hands, grasping them tightly. "I have been a monster. I have hurt you and manipulated you, and wronged you. I am sorry."

You pulled your hands away from him sharply. 

"A simple apology cannot fix this mess, Mr. Kim."

"I know-"

"This is not some unintended mistake. You did not step on my foot or mispronounce my name. No- you manipulated me and played with my emotions over a period of months. Was any of it real? Or was it all a game to you?" you asked, your voice cracking. 

He looked torn. "It started as a game- I was so used to the thrill of the seduction. I saw a chance to woo the reputed Miss Yoon. The belle of the ball, the jewel of the ton, the most sought-after young debutante of the season, it was just such a tempting challenge…"

You felt sick. "Of course. It was a game to you. As I was warned so many times by everyone around me- I was young and naive, the ripe target for a rake."

He stepped away from you and took a deep breath. 

"There was a thrill," he admitted shamefully. "In getting to know you and discovering the little things about you, your vulnerabilities and strengths, how I could use them to make you fall in love with me. I showed you a side of me that I hoped you would fall for."

You said nothing. 

"But I never meant to hurt you," he insisted hotly. "You are blinded by your insecurities so you don't see certain things… I don't think you're aware of how beautiful and desirable you are. The whole ton was in love with you. You were the season's jewel, renowned for your beauty and approved by the Queen herself. It was a competition for your heart. You had so many suitors, and you could have had any bachelor you chose in a heartbeat. I never really expected you to fall in love with me. I thought you would marry someone else by the end of the season as you'd planned and it was a game, a harmless little game…"

"Harmless?" you demanded angrily. "Harmless for who, Mr. Kim?"

"I was wrong," he insisted. His face was red and he had turned away from you to pace the room. "I did not see that you were falling in love, I did not realise how dangerous my own feelings for you were becoming. Until the day we kissed in the gallery and I was forced to accept that this game had gone too far and gotten completely, utterly out of hand…"

You said nothing. Your throat felt heavy and you swallowed. 

Mr. Kim came over to you suddenly. He kneeled in front of you and his dark eyes met yours. You could see the pain, the love, the emotion that bubbled underneath the surface of his gaze.

"I made a mistake," he whispered. "Many mistakes. But I love you. I need you in my life. Nobody else- nothing else in this world can make me as happy as you make me. That is my truth."

You looked down at him. "And me?" you whispered. "How am I to be happy, Mingyu?"

"I will do anything in my power to make you happy," he promised vehemently. 

You shook your head. It was not enough. It would never be enough. Declarations of love and words of affection were quick to sway but you had been manipulated by this man before. You loved him- loved him with your entire heart but it was not enough. 

"I watched my sister getting married today," you told him shakily. "Do you know how long she and Mr. Choi have been waiting to marry?"

Mr. Kim blinked. "A few years?"

"Almost five years. My sister gave up her prime years in society for him, destroyed all her other prospects and waited for so long. I never understood how she could take that risk and wait so patiently for him without a shred of regret. I think I finally understood it today. That feeling they share… it's something more than just love, Mingyu."

He waited silently for you to continue. 

"It's trust," you finished. "And it doesn't matter how much I love you, because my trust in you is broken."

He recoiled as though you had slapped him. 

"Of course," he said quietly. "I understand."

"Then we are done here."

"No," he said firmly. "No, we are not done. I have not come here to give up so easily. If I have broken your trust then I will repair it. Even if it takes a year, or five or ten…"

You shook your head. "You can't be serious."

"I will prove to you that what we share is nothing less than what your sister shares with Mr. Choi," he promised. "I will wait until your trust in me is restored, I will show you the parts of me I was too ashamed to show you before. I will fix this."

You swallowed. "A bold promise."

"I know you don't believe me," he said quietly. "You do not need to. I will prove it to you."

"You can't-"

"I will," Mr. Kim said firmly. "I will tell you and show you how much I love you every single day until you choose to believe it."

"And if that day never comes?"

"Then let them engrave it on my tombstone."

You shook your head in disbelief. "Mingyu, really…"

"I love you."

—------------------------------------------------------

Joenghan was confused and wary when he discovered Mr. Kim had arrived uninvited during the wedding. But  since nobody would tell him exactly what was happening, he hesitantly extended an invitation to Mr. Kim to stay at the Yoon estate as long as he was in town. Mr. Kim accepted gratefully. 

You awoke the next morning to the sound of loud laughter; Mr. Kim was teaching Jiwoo how to ride a pony in the gardens. You quickly dressed and went downstairs to tell them to be quiet, and that it was far too early to be waking up the entire town. 

"Look; I am riding!" Jiwoo cried excitedly as he managed to control the pony without help. You could not resist a smile. 

"I see you and Jiwoo are having fun," you said to Mr. Kim drily. 

Mr. Kim smiled. "You speak of Jiwoo often; I thought befriending him might be useful. He promised to do anything for me if I taught him to ride one of the ponies, so I am simply keeping my promise."

You stared at him in disbelief. "And this does not seem manipulative to you?"

"It's hardly manipulative when I am being completely honest about what I am doing," Mr. Kim protested with a charming smile. "I do have to use some methods to win your heart, my dear Miss Yoon. I cannot simply sit here and expect my handsome face to do all the work."

"So this is your new tactic?" you demanded. "You will tell me what you are doing as you attempt to manipulate me?"

"One might call that honesty."

"One might call it brazen shamelessness."

"Call it what you will," he replied lightly. "I believe the arrangement benefits everyone involved. Jiwoo! Come back here!"

Jiwoo rode the pony back and dismounted before running over to you. Mr. Kim quickly took the pony's reins and calmed it down. 

"Did you see me riding Chocolate?" Jiwoo asked excitedly. 

You smiled at the boy. "I did. You did an excellent job! You must be very hungry after all that riding. Go inside and have breakfast- I will join you in a moment."

Jiwoo nodded before reaching into his pocket. 

"Mr. Kim asked me to give you this," the boy added before running away. 

You unfolded the sheet of paper that Jiwoo handed you. You were not sure what you had been expecting- but certainly not the words 'I love you' scrawled in Mr. Kim's familiar penmanship. You went over to him and raised an eyebrow.

"What is this?" you asked him. 

Mr. Kim blinked. "A love letter."

"Rather low effort, don't you think?" you asked. 

He chuckled. "Well, I had no choice. You are already familiar with all my flowery prose and poetry- you have my notes on the subject. I was worried you would see anything taken from there as ingenuine; therefore, I have chosen the path of simplicity and honesty."

You could not bite back your smile. "I see."

Mr. Kim turned his attention away from you and gave the pony an apple that he was carrying in his pocket. "I thought it would be best to befriend Chocolate the pony as well, seeing as he is one of your happiest memories. Luckily he is not much harder to sway than Jiwoo- he just needs a few apples."

"Don't overfeed him," you warned. 

"I will be careful. Let me put him back in the stables and then I will join you for breakfast. Speaking of which…"

You looked at him. "What?"

"That stableboy of yours doesn't still work here, does he?"

Your eyes widened in horror. "Mr. Kim!" you scolded him, appalled.

He grinned. "All right, all right. I had to ask."

"Unbelievable."

Perhaps it was because you knew how weak Mr. Kim made you,  you tried harder than necessary to resist his ensuing attempts to win your trust back. You were not going to make it easy for him to hurt you again. 

Your heart was already his- there was never a moment where it belonged to anybody but Mingyu. But your head was cautious, suspicious, ever-doubting his words and actions and intentions. 

Mr. Kim spent most of the winter either at the Yoon estate or nearby. He was always near you- his attention devoted to you, hanging onto your every word and making small gestures to win your heart. It soon became clear to your entire family that Mr. Kim Mingyu was desperately trying to woo you. Even once he returned to his own estate, he wrote long letters to you multiple times a week. 

Then came the season. 

—-------------------------------------------------------

Your second London season was far less exciting, but far more enjoyable than your first had been. The absence of your mother (she had chosen to stay in the countryside) and your newfound confidence made things easier and less stressful.

There was also a new set of nervous, pretty young debutantes for the ton to fawn over. You were not surprised to find yourself no longer one of the most desired young ladies of the ton. But Mr. Kim was not deterred. He continued to court you openly and while he was around, it was difficult not to feel like the most beautiful woman in the room. 

Mr. Kim was determined to make you fall in love with him all over again, and he succeeded. He accompanied you to every ball, promenaded with you when the weather was nice, and made it known to the ton that Mr. Kim was no longer a rake- he was now a much reformed man in love. 

He also showed you things that he claimed he would never have shown anyone else. One interesting evening was spent with both of you going over his finances, where you discovered just how much money Mr. Kim had invested in his art gallery, and how much he had lost over cards to your brother. 

"You do have a gambling problem," you scolded him. "No more cards for you, Mr. Kim."

He proceeded to sit miserably and empty-handed at the edge of the card tables in the assembly room for the next week, until you finally told him that you did not mind him playing a little. He was promptly made fun of by some of the other gentlemen but it did not seem to bother him- he only beamed at you across the room as they laughed about how you were not even married and controlled his finances already. 

As the weeks and months passed, you fell in love with Mr. Kim a second time. It was the same, and yet also different. 

He was still an excellent dancer, a charmer and could still make your heart skip a beat with his playful smile and dark twinkling eyes. But this Mr. Kim was more clumsy, more honest and less sure of himself than the suave rake you had fallen for the previous season. 

You were now privy to the less perfect sides of Mr. Kim. His frustration that the art gallery was not doing as well as he had hoped, his gambling habit, the hesitation that sometimes appeared in his eyes when he was unsure of himself. He confided in you about the struggles he had faced when his parents passed away while he was still young. You fell more in love with him when he shared these parts of him with you. 

The Mr. Kim you had initially loved was only an image, a small slice of the Kim Mingyu you had now grown to love and understand and even trust. 

"So," he said to you one evening as you both shared a Cuban cigar on the balcony of the Duchess of Graham's manor. There was a large celebration happening inside that you had both snuck away from. "We find ourselves back on this fateful balcony where we first met."

You smirked up at him and snatched the cigar from his fingers before taking a drag. "You mean where you found me crying on the floor."

Mr. Kim shrugged. "I didn't want to bring it up…"

"I think I've changed a lot since then."

"You have," he said quietly. He gave you a small smile. "I know I only made things more difficult and it's not my place to say, but… I am proud of you."

You bit your lip. "I am proud of myself too."

"Good," he said with a nod. 

"But I should probably stop smoking."

"Probably."

"Shall we quit together?" you asked him. "We've only been doing this as a way to spend time with each other, and I think we are rather past needing to find excuses to be alone together."

Mr. Kim looked amused as you put out the cigar on the railing. 

"If you think we should quit, then I am not going to argue," he said lightly. 

You nodded and hummed. "And perhaps we should stop meeting on other people's balconies like this."

"Now you are making me worry."

You reached into your pocket and pulled out a small book- it had been entrusted to you by Miss Ella Williams, who had gifted it to you for your use since you were one of her few unmarried friends. You showed Mr. Kim the pages with his name and the lengthy list of ladies he had courted. 

He winced. "I feel a sudden urge to defend myself by pointing out that yours is the last name on that list- but I am sure you would not be standing here if it wasn't."

You giggled. "True," you said. 

Then with a swift move, you ripped Kim Mingyu's page out of the book and pressed the end of your cigar against the page to light it on fire. The paper smouldered and slowly burned into a small pile of ash. 

Mr. Kim was watching you closely with his dark eyes. 

"I am scared to ask why you just burned my page," he said warily. "Should I be worried?"

"This book will probably get passed onto one of the newer debutantes," you replied simply. "Not only is the information outdated, I wouldn't want any of them to think you were an available bachelor."

The corner of his lips curved upwards. "I see. I take it that I am no longer an available bachelor then."

"Are you?" you challenged him. 

"Absolutely not."

You kissed him. Mr. Kim stumbled backwards in surprise but his back hit the balcony railing and he embraced you firmly before returning the kiss. His lips were clumsy yet eager as they covered yours and one of his hands slid into your hair. 

"Marry me," he whispered hotly against your lips as you pressed your body against his. He seized your waist and held you tightly as he whispered again, pushing you for a response. "Marry me, please."

You pressed your forehead against his and nodded, breath mingling as your own fingers slid into his hair and caressed his neck. 

"Yes-yes, of course-"

"Come closer, my love-"

The door to the balcony opened suddenly. You pulled back- but Mr. Kim's arm stayed around your waist and you could only turn awkwardly in his grasp to see who had discovered you. 

It was the Duke of Graham, eyes wide and his ears turning red as he realised what he had walked into. 

"W-we're engaged," you blurted out quickly, in explanation and a desperate attempt to convince the Duke of Graham, a man you had never even met, that you were not creating a scandal in his home. You could hear a small chuckle from Mr. Kim over your shoulder. 

"All right…" the Duke said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Erm, Congratulations?"

Oh god. 

—----------------------------------------------------

[theconstitutionisgayculture]

I’m neither republican or democrat but I hold views of both sides to some extent. That being said, I think democrats needs to stop being so eager to let any and everyone in this country. America first. I am pro choice and for higher wages and better parental leave. But as a republican, what do you think can be done to have more affordable housing and better healthcare such as more affordable insurance?

Get the government out of the economy.

Obviously these are complicated issues that need nuanced solutions, but to try and put it simply, most every economic problem we have right now is caused, at least in part, by overregulation, overtaxation, a worthless fiat currency, a fed that floods the market with money at the whim of politicians thereby devaluing the currency even more and other, similar, issues. One of the main reasons it costs so much to live in certain places is because of taxes. One of the main reasons healthcare costs are so high is because the government protects insurance companies from both failure and competition.

There's a scene in Independence Day where, I believe it was Jeff Goldblum's character, asks how the government funds Area 51. His father answers "What, you don't think they're spending $20,000 on a hammer, $30,000 on a toilet seat, do you?" but that's kind of exactly how health insurance works in this country. The prices for services and equipment are massively inflated, because insurance companies can afford to pay $30,000 for a toilet seat. And because a toilet seat now costs $30,000 dollars, the regular Joe working 9-5 needs insurance if he wants to use that bathroom. But in order to get that insurance, he needs to pay a certain amount every month until he needs to use it, with no guarantee that he'll ever have to use it. So over the course of his life, he ends up paying a lot more than $30,000 for a toilet seat he'll probably never use. And because 330 million people are all paying for insurance, those insurance companies can afford a lot of toilet seats that most people are never going to use. So where does the rest of that money go? Into the pockets of politicians who make sure that the scam the insurance companies and the hospitals have going on is all nice and legal. But it's unethical. And more than that, it's unsustainable. The whole thing will come crashing down at some point. To avoid that, we need to start dismantling it piece by piece. Get back to the way things were before insurance when people could pay out of pocket for almost all the medical care they'd need.

As for the economy as a whole, eliminate most taxes completely, lower the taxes that remain significantly, slash all regulations that hinder small businesses from competing in a market dominated by politically connected multinational corporations, kill the last vestiges of Obamacare, gut the welfare state, bring back the gold standard, stop all foreign aid that doesn't directly benefit this country and its citizens, and you'll start to see massive improvements in nearly all aspects of society.

None of this will be easy. Most likely, it will never get done until the whole system collapses under its own weight. But everything I mention is possible. It's not a pipedream, like perfect communism or anarchism magically springing into existence and solving all our problems.

[offshore-brinicle]

That was one hell of a part 2 good lordy. I have SO many thoughts but I cannot put all into words for now, here's some though.

Dante is being real quiet [sus especially after how much they talked in canto 5, plus how they seemed seemed realise that they need to actually take part in helping the sinners proper] and they are [seemingly] the only sinner one could connect to Carmen [literally all of the chirstian symbolism, the way the static on her appearances was similar to the static Dante has seen on AFD and their overheating, the fact she seemed to speak through them at that point]. I am probably just reading into things but after the whiplash of how much they usually talk - internally and externally - I am very much getting a sinking feeling something's wrong.

Basements are evil. Hong Lu is rich enough to have a basement in his houses. He will probably have an evil basement. I would bet money on this, especially if its a sort of 'other world' as alluded to in his book (that I have not read. It does mention a Land of Illusion if i recall, however, so possibly a door to that). Bonus points if it ends up being upside down or smth.

Would the 'chaotic' part of the golden bough ( of 'em at least) have any sorta relation to why we Heath's E.G.O seemed unstable? I know most of the other distortions/E.G.O awakenings happened near boughs - which connects to the theory that they are directly related to Carmen and thus allow her to talk to people more easily like with the monolith - either Dante's fragment or a full one, but the specific mention of a chaotic one could mean it's responsible for Bodysack seeming to have corroded, as one can see the warning labels typical of a corroding E.G.O.

Given Faust's change in behaviour - namely stuttering for what I believe to be the first time - regarding the conversations around the 'creation of humans' I do believe this was how she was made. Yi Sang did say he made the tech used within the pods in that very basement, and the fact that he was the first recruit could mean that the Faust who approached him is not the same Faust on the bus. The idea of her being a metric fucktonna ID's layered on top of each other firstly explains the Council of Fausts theory, wherein she is able to talk to other versions of herself, in this case because that's what she is, as well as what Dante says about her looking somewhere else before answering. Mirrors alter perception, so her looking at a different Faust for answers could explain that as well. Work's too with her base E.G.O, wherein three shadows seem to point out an answer on her wall of notes. She has all the knowledge, she just needs her other selves to point it out when needed - thus her evasive attitude when it comes to answers, she needs time to get it pointed out.

On that note, do you think her attitude in Selva Obscura is a reflection of og!Faust, but she drops the act later on once Dante has fully forgotten their past? She doesn't really get that jokey after that.

Like how the middle seemed to be the antithesis of Ishmael in C5 part 2, the ring seems to be Heath's. The middle represented how Ishy as a person was mostly incompatibility with 'the bit', in the form of a situation that is remarkably silly on paper but ended up in near total annihilation of the group. The ring may represent how some may look for deeper meanings in all things from arts to people, which clashes wickedly against Heathcliff's more straightforward approach when it comes to handling situations. The dredges of the ring are those parts of him that overthink and he solves the problem as simply as he's been solving many others.

Cathy in a Coffin reminds me of when Carmen was content enough to haunt the narrative from her Bucket. Nothing else to say here except for the fact it's funny.

But back to Carmen, and more particularly 'fate' regarding distortions. The theme of denying of what 'should've happened' is a decently big theme of limbus - from the rewinding death to even subverting what happens from any literary source material - so if they end up going 'Carmen no Carming' to her later on, defying someone who seems to be as much of a god-like entity as the Head in some ways, I would not be surprised if we either get a visit from Iori, one of Demian's lot or another Lo9 member - x or current. Additionally, defying fate may just be what brings back Heathcliff from the edge, keeping Cathy alive in this mirror world but presumably in a weird weirdass way. My guess is that she distorts and gets nabbed by LCD - but I also just wanna see Moses so.

Also hey what happened to the seven strikes of lightning. Are they gonna be in Heath's distortion dungeon or something? No clue.

And I think that's it. Gonna stare at a wall for a while now methinks

OK SO FIRST UP THERE ARE A LOT OF THINGS HERE SO I'LL TRY TO ANSWER TO THESE CONCISELY

Now that you mentioned it, it was always very strange how Faust is Number 2 despite being there first and her mugshot having already been in uniform, so now that you mention her different attitude in the Prologue I honestly see a lot to what you are bringing up here. It was always a personal theory of mine that Faust's real "Mephistopheles" was Sang Yi or Yi Sang somehow, since Sang Yi still to seems to be a rather...odd entity that doesn't correspond to any particular mirror world and is implied by Yi Sang to have some degree of omniscience (and there's also that marked part in the dungeon where he "mysteriously dissapeared" for some time with no explanation), so she might have gotten Yi Sang to do the procedure that would give her this infinite knowledge, specially since even Yi Sang himself emphasizes on her having been "gifted" with omniscience, I Highly doubt he's being figurative here, even more with her EGO's background being the shadows of multiple people.

In regards to Dante not speaking I think it's simply because of the difference in situation, unlike Ishmael who was very clearly out of control due to her own mindset, Heathcliff is being driven over the edge by circumstance -- and some quite insane circumstances at that, so it might be why they could not intervene, but hopefully they'll step up when we get to the next part, specially since we'll be dealing with Distorted Heathcliff....and also, it's very interesting that we actually got Heathcliff's POV on how it felt to Distort. It might be Dante's connection to Carmen and The Sinners aligning at once.

And also, Catherine is def a Carmen expy (I actually did my own analysis some time ago in similarities Kromer, Ahab and Dongbaek had with Carmen too but this one is the most. Insanely explicit similarity) and the fact that she speaks to "Welcome Heathcliff home" at the very end in her own voice alongside Carmen...I can't help but feel she might have been planning to get Heathcliff to Distort all along as part of her personal plan that they can be together happy in Hell. The Overclocking symptoms seem to have been an indicator of Heathcliff approaching Distortion, I really like how...drastically different it feels from the awakened Crow's Eye View and Snagharpoon, and just in general how they completely threw the formula that had been built up until now out of the window (heh)

Either way, thanks for shooting me a message! It's always fun to get to hear other people's observations and theories and share my own two cents along the way

Edit: I forgor but frankly if Hong Lu has yet another Creepy Rich Person basement I think I'll bash my head against the wall. The real moral of Limbus is that basements are bad and evil. Sorry there are just So many good observations here and I'm a bit scatterbrained at times shfhh

In regards to the "fate" thing, I feel like that will be a big part of dealing with Heathcliff next part, Limbus Company as a game and story is built on the reimaginings or "what ifs" or classics, and we've seen it with Yi Sang that his ending was changed in the end; the original Yi Sang died and the protagonist of The Wings commits suicide, but he rejected all of that, while Ishmael was on her path to repeat the cycle of the story of Moby Dick but thanks to Dante and Heathcliff she rejected that as well. And the title of "Clear All Cathy" really establishes from the first moment the goal this time. We'll have to wait another week to see how it rolls.

[sourcreammachine]

i love how the self-titled Effective Altruists and cuntbags like musk believe that the “demographic crisis” of the 21st century is like a massive insane problem that we need to solve by farting out babies 24/7, as they said in that recent Kurzgesagt propaganda video they produced

it is capitalism that’s the problem, again. growth for the sake of growth is the ideology of a cancer cell. we ‘grow’ when we produce more, and our investments are based around potential growths rather than what is needed - so when alleged ‘potential’ can’t materialise, the economy collapses

we will be able to produce less when there will be less workers. future spacex neuralink hyperloop tech might soften the blow but won’t be able to change that fact

this is coming towards capitalism like a high-speed train. most executives are essentially wagies visàvis their positions as gods of the world, so systemically cannot respond to a problem more than twenty years ahead of time. but oligarchs like musk and formerly bankman-fried, with their oligarchic status seemingly made permanent (lol), become weird nutters who’ve given themselves messiah complexes about “solving” it. we must increase production always at all costs, so we must increase babies at all costs

growth for the sake of growth is the ideology of a cancer cell. the economy is going to shrink and we must not let this cause a world-eating depression under capitalism. we have to accept that we’re peaking, stop investing resources into growth and start investing resources into efficiency, systemic resilience, and services, and drop dead-weight unsustainable overproduction that’s killing the planet. stop even trying to grow the economy during a period of global decline - the global Very Long Boom and global Baby Boom gave a economic dividend that must be repaid

socialistic economics, redistribution, and economic democracy can let this pressure. we have to do managed decline, work towards working better with less workers and less labour, and support untold masses of pensioners. capitalism simply cannot do this. if under capitalism the economy was recessing massively, but don’t worry, in many years the ageing recession will cease and growth should resume with stability - investment simply will not go towards what is needed to improve life under the status quo and will be hedged until growth resumes, and so nothing good will ever come

that’s why the so-called “effective altruists” and muskists are so bothered about preventing what they see as demographic collapse - should it occur it’ll wreak a huge economic recession, be it slow or as a crash, and lead to a world of impoverished pensioners starving on the street. so their solution is babies at all costs, when instead we could have a world where a period of managed decline spurs reinvestment in what we have, a silver age of planet earth, a global new deal beyond measure. and when the massive wave of pensioners dies, we will have good services and sustainable economics, and enriched communities with fruitful childhoods and good educations, and yeah, we can use our growth potential to not just prevent environmental destruction (capitalism’ll’ve already triggered a lot) but do our level headed best to fix it, become the stewards of Earth that we’re abdicating ourselves as, and fuck it, have enough money to reshape the world into a happy and good place to live a life

but capitalism cannot do that. because capitalism cannot accept decline. because capitalism must have growth at any costs, and will continue to beat the dead horse until the skies darken with soot and until the baby boomers who built the longest boom are left to rot without care or food and their children are enslaved to keep the fires burning. and to bring back the boom times, it must be babies at any cost

footnote: this was mostly about economics but there’s one more angle that would’ve made a bit of a tangent. musk’s side of the coin has a massive, massive misogynistic basis. musk, the individual, is famously a total creep. people with breeding kinks can breathe a sigh of relief because he is not one of you - his is a breeding perversion. he has an obsession with creating as many of his own children as possible and subscribes to the belief that a Man’s worth can be measured with his spawn. and so many of his ilk believe the same. this is how he can have child after child despite obviously not caring for them and doing his duty as a parent - parenting ten children should basically be a full time job. it takes a village: this is a village. and i don’t mean to point fingers, but with his first wife he had a set of twins via ivf and then a set of triplets via ivf, and many more children later, including after the birth of the human person he calls “X Æ A-Xii”, he had a second child with Grimes via surrogacy. this worldview undoubtedly affects his everyday misogyny and transphobia - women’s utility is as utility, trans men do iRrEvErSiBlE dAmAgE to their mere utility, and trans women go against womanhood due to having no utility. he abandoned his own fucking daughter for being trans. creepy, disgusting, indefensible - and this man is one of the gods of our world, enacting his poisonous worldview without oversight

and ragging on cunts like musk isn’t letting the ““effective altruists”” off the hook. their circles, as organisations or just general society, has an oft-reported massive sexism problem. multiple EA members have been accused of creating a toxic atmosphere hostile to women, of sexual misconduct, and of grooming with intention to form poly relationships. an ideology of reducing humans to utility, of stressing population growth, and of getting ants in your pants about demographic crisis does not combine well with latent misogyny and the patriarchal, male near-exclusive echelons of capitalism

[warsofasoiaf]

Harris' economic "plan" is populist, anti-capitalist, and anti-investor. "Price gouging" is just whining about corporate profits and keeping new housing from going to investors is openly Socialist. I can't and won't support the dissolution of capitalism and trust you won't either.

That's clearly bait and falling into the all-too-common progressive false dichotomy of "you either support my policies or you're just a tool of big business and thus safe to disregard," a fallacy that largely dominates progressive thinking and sadly inhibits proper debate. But that being said, Harris's recent proposed economic plans are actually quite stupid from an economics perspective. Sadly, Trump and Harris are both racing to see who can create the stupidest economic policy possible this electoral cycle: Trump seemingly trying to turbocharge inflation with removing the Fed's independence to increase market instability and slapping tariffs on everything to pander to the nativists versus Harris seemingly trying to create price controls, inevitably resulting in shortages, out of a desire to pander to progressives. Either way, it's crafting bad policy largely to suit their particular vibes.

The "price gouging" bill is questionably constitutional at the federal level. insofar as she appears to be pushing for executive power to enforce the edict via the FTC. This would be a vast expansion of the FTC's purview - which should alarm anyone actually slightly concerned by the idea of the vast expansion of presidential authority.

But even if you don't, price controls are a terrible idea. Historically speaking, there aren't any examples in the US where they work out in a positive fashion save one - the price control system during the Second World War, where wartime rationing completely altered aggregate consumer demand to the point where it's an ineffective analogue (and the uniting purpose of defeating the Axis powers to enforce compliance and reduce control evasion simply doesn't exist today). Neither do we see much success globally, they typically end up presiding over a high degree of shortages and don't have much of an effect on actual prices, economists are very much in lock-step on this particular point. But price controls do have one benefit: they're popular, of course, because it reduces any complexities to a simple binary state. Why are groceries expensive? Clearly it's because the EVIL grocery store is jacking up prices. That's what "greedflation" keeps telling us, despite it being provably wrong. The fact that profit margins in grocery stores are razor thin and barely moved during the pandemic and the periods of inflation is irrelevant. After all, it doesn't suit the vibes.

This is particularly hilarious because if you look at the data, we've actually largely conquered inflation from a food prices perspective. Here's the inflation index for food prices - they've been hovering at about zero percent for about 32 months now. And it gets even worse when you look at wages versus food prices - it's been climbing steadily upwards. There was a bad hit during the time of inflation back in 2021 and 2022, but has been on an upward trend ever since 2023. So this is a policy trying to solve a problem that doesn't exist in the way Harris has defined it and so won't actually effect a negative push on prices, but that simple fact is a mere technicality - it isn't congruent with the vibes.

But people still believe that grocery prices are too high because of price jumps in those years, which is primarily due to supply shocks and the unprecedented printing of new money under both the Trump and Biden administrations. There are plenty of policies we could propose or enact to address that. We could stop drastically expanding the money supply (which we have, sort of) or we could break out the policy toolkit to reduce prices. We could use industrial and tax policy to increase supplies, we could deregulate to cut the cost of production, we could reduce tariffs (or actually fix our dysfunctional ports) to increase competitive pressure. We could increase oil production to reduce the cost of fuel (and thus shipping) or work on developing ways to reduce the cost of energy by building more solar or nuclear (which is roundabout and minimally effective but also has a knock-on effect across the board). But that's boring! That doesn't make me out to be the scrappy underdog under assault from all sides by nefarious actors! I don't want logical answers derived from the data with coherent policy goals to address those issues designed by people who know what they're doing, I want to stick it to the people who I know are making me suffer! I want my pre-existing biases to be repeated back to me so that I can reassure myself of my inherent virtue. In short, I want vibes!

The number of houses that goes to investors is in the single-percentile range, which drops dramatically when you remove the small investor category (individual investors owning <=5 homes including their own residence - which also includes older and/or wealthier folks who may own a primary home and a vacation home and are not technically in the "housing investor class" per say), where now it's not even a single percentage point. Whereas building more houses and enacting deregulation on zoning to allow mixed-use zoning, single-staircase apartments, and other YIMBY pro-housing policies have such a dramatically more positive effect on homeowners (and reduces the price which makes housing a *less* attractive investment - which would actually reduce large-scale investor purchases of homes if someone actually cared about doing that). But no, let's set up a costly apparatus for minimal effect. It's not very effective, but at least there's a clear evil bad guy - some rich investor that the honest man can give the what-for! So in essence, vibes.

But hey, who cares how effective policy is? After all, who needs data when you have V I B E S.

SomethingLikeALawyer, Hand of the King

[darkmaga-retard]

We all recall when the Democrats tried to drag former President Trump for suggesting a wall for the Southern border. He asked for $25 billion to build the wall and we are spending quadruple that amount on providing for migrants. The wall, the “Trump wall,” was considered “racist” and “Un-American” by VP Kamala Harris and a “medieval vanity project.” Now, Harris believes the time is right to fund the Trump wall.

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Over eight to ten million people entered the United States under Biden-Harris, with Harris appointed as the point person to solve the problem. They have done absolutely everything imaginable to attract foreigners, going so far as to federally fund flights to the US for newcomers. Their policy was FAR BEYOND open borders as it enticed people to enter America illegally for a grand reward. The government continues to up the reward and there is no incentive to assimilate with society or return their country of origin.

Harris has been supporting open border policies since acting as districting attorney in the late 2000s. In 2019, Kamala Harris tweeted that the migrant situation “is not an emergency” and continued to lie to the American public by utterly ignoring the invasion at our southern border. Governors at border states couldn’t get a word in with Harris and most Democrat cities also ignored the problem until migrants began arriving in droves in their neighborhoods. As you may remember, Texas Governor Greg Abbott of Texas went to far as shipping two buses of dreamers to her front door in Washington, DC.

“Trump’s border wall is a complete waste of taxpayer money and won’t make us any safer,” Harris exclaimed four years ago. This is typical political rhetoric. Vote for me, and I’ll fix your broken arm. Oh, your arm isn’t broken? Let us at the government do it for you! 

Kamala Harris fails to offer unique ideas, perspectives, or, most importantly, for a presidential hopeful, any REAL solutions. I cannot comprehend how anyone could cast a vote for the same person who deliberately spent their entire political career creating this migrant crisis AND mocked the crisis as cities were overflowing with people from every nation on Earth. The cities were NOT laughing it off as their budgets were imploding, crime was soaring, civil unrest grew, and taxpayers became enraged that their taxes were going to subsidies others as they were adjusting to the new cost of living.

Harris simply does not have the aptitude to speak on the issue in public or private.

[thekimspoblog]

FotD 1:

@joshgoodman: Thinking of some ideas currently; I've had this one circling my head. Somehow kim and Jim find themselves camping out like the kettlemans did (without the stolen money) to avoid being found by (insert threat here). Iris and fille are around 8 and 6 respectively

Me: That'd be cute! Fighting with trying to set up the tent, Kim would probably do most of it; Jimmy's threatening to slip a disk. Fille keeps asking what the hell we're actually doing out here. Iris tells her not to ask stupid questions.

"Iris, don't call your sister stupid"

"I'm not! I said her question was! There's a difference!"

Did they bring any food?

Me: In my timeline, one of the main tragic things is how this life weighs on Kim's sanity. She never really got over the trauma of the cartel following her back in '04, that's when the sheepdog dreams started; that's when she started believing in God, simply because she felt like someone or something was watching her and plotting against her at all times. Especially after Jimmy dies, paranoia really starts to consume her. She becomes a powerful mob boss nearing the end of her life, but no amount of security measures bring her peace of mind. Once Jimmy's out of the picture, things start to get a little Howard Hughes.

But yeah, even while he's around, he is sometimes worried she's getting neurotic, but it's not like he can't empathize; he never stopped looking over his shoulder either. Out here in the woods, every rustle in the grass could be a mountain lion or worse.

Him: They brought enough food for a week, but then they'd have to catch and cook their own. Which Jimmy might have an issue with. I think a mountain lion would be the least of their worries, it can be scared away; a cartel member with a gun/intent to hurt kim/her family isn't as easily scared away.

Me: Why do you think Jimmy would have a problem? Just not very good at hunting/fishing?

Kim considered taking a gun, but they both decided it would create more problems than it would solve. Even if Fille or Iris don't play with it, firing off a wild shot into the bushes could be a really bad idea; they're hiding from the law on fraud/extortion/other non violent charges. If she accidentally shot a cop who was coming to arrest them, now they're both back to looking at life. Not losing custody is always the top priority.

Even killing a "Made" man/woman would just incite retaliation. If the mafia kills them, best to just pray they'll spare the kids. Starting a shoot out would just be loud and dangerous.

I guess if they really believed the kids were in danger, they would have to give them up and leave them with someone, but thankfully it's never come to that.

Him: Based off of Jimmy's character, I'd think he'd have a terrible time hunting and fishing, yea. Also, he might have an issue with killing the animal he's able to retrieve.

I think kim would settle for a bow? Not sure if she has an archery background; iris would LOVE that. Fille could care less. But who would they leave them with, is the question? Mike is dead, so is dawson. The church is questionable

Me: I don't think Jimmy would have a problem killing an animal. He might be squeamish, but he was never a pacifist or vegetarian.

Highly doubt they would have thought to bring archery supplies. If they run out of food, they should just head back into town.

And when all else fails, they always have the option to call a social worker themselves. They REALLY don't want to do that, they've been trying to keep the kids safe off the grid. But nothing is worth endangering their lives. Even Fille would be unhappy in that arrangement.

Pretty sure "My parents only abandoned me because they're traveling con artists. But they promised they were coming back once the mob boss is dead" is foster home for "please beat me up for telling such outrageous lies".

Iris would look out for Fille, but who's looking out for poor Iris?  In the eyes of any conformist parent or teacher, Iris would be labeled a troubled child with behavioral issues. Even if their foster parents accepted their queerness, and that's a big if, nobody's going to listen to their indoctrination about the reasons shoplifting is a public good. Probably end up getting put on Ritalin or some shit.

Still, as long as Iris knew where they came from, why they feel this way all the time,they could at least try to fit in. In the timeline where Iris was born in 2005 and Kim gave them up out of guilt for what happened to Howard, Iris's life was terrible; just grew up confused and angry. Tarzan might not know what a human is, but he would still know he wasn't an ape. Kim saw these futures; even aborting them would be less cruel than leaving them to be raised by someone else. Iris needed their parents; they were the only ones who understood, the only ones who could shape this overgrown hedge of wild energy into a countercultural topiary. No matter what other childhood trauma they absorbed, the worst thing you could ever do is leave them without direction or purpose.

Him: Squeamish, that's the word I was looking for. But if it comes to survival, what wouldn't he do for his family?

Him: I wonder if the social worker would be an option? Kim wouldn't want to put the kids through that, they would find the best option one way or another.

Ah yes, Ritalin. Or as I like to call it, the zombie drug. That shit doesn't work and fuck any doctor who puts kids on it

Me: No matter what happens, at least Iris and Fille have eachother. It's not that Fille can't feel that Wexler-McGill blood in their veins; Fille is different from Iris by choice, not nature. But as the youngest in the family, as the last one always in pool when it comes to mischief, she can see how recklessness never leads to anything good.

Fille is better at pretending to be a "good kid" but she'd still feel deeply alone without her big sibling.

If she was left alone, Fille would probably be a troublemaker too. She's only such a square and a goody-goody because that's the only way she could have rebelled in a family of rebels.

Him: Ah, so fille chooses to be a goody two shoes because that's not what people expect when they see that family.

I don't think they would be apart for long, even separated by the foster care system if it came to that. Those two would always find a way back to each other

Me: Main problem is Jimmy and Kim don't want to admit failure a first time, because CPS is going to be breathing down their neck from then onward. For some reason, as long as the kids are biologically yours, most bizarre parenting choices are accepted as long as the government hasn't already labeled you a bad mother.

When Love Quinn was brought back by Dolores, the thing she wanted most was to see Henry again. But Dante and Lansing are good dads, and showing up in Henry's life now would just upset and confuse him. Admitting that she deserved to lose custody of her son was the hardest thing she's had to do, but it's for the best to just move on, try to be better moving forward.

Him: Do Love and Henry ever reunite? Or are those days behind them?

Me: Probably when Henry is older.

Iris probably would ask for archery lessons after reading the Hunger Games. Iris was always outdoorsy, but this probably is just a phase.

Him: What kind of phase would fille go through, if you had to guess?

Me: Well both siblings do have an interest in music. Iris learned to play the guitar from Jimmy; Fille would probably go ahead and find herself a piano teacher.

Him: I feel like iris would also take an interest in drums, maybe?

Me: Sounds about right.

I mean Jimmy and Kim want to encourage their hobbies. This is what the money is for.

Him: Iris would take an interest in archery, drums, and guitar while fille does piano, and maybe...swimming?

Me: Yes Fille loves the ocean. Probably cus of that goldfish soul.

Him: Ooh! Kayaking!

Me: I think Iris would be more into motor boats

Him: Boats are fun. Maybe they could take a vacation to the great lakes/some type of beach.

FotD 2:

Me: I guess yesterday I was also thinking about them making a big score, and then taking the kids shopping for new clothes. The kids complain, but it's still fun dressing them up like little dolls.

Him: I didn't think iris would go for that? Maybe fille

Me: Well Iris has always loved dress up, but plain clothes shopping is always a little boring for kids.

Me: Kim saying "Try this one on. It's a little bit big but you'll grow into it... hmm no; that's actually too big, you'll be tripping and face planting all over"

Me: But yes, those two love shopping for the family. I mean Jimmy and Kim have been eachothers gay best friend stereotypes since all the way back to law school, but the last time they actually spent a substantial amount of money like this was a few years ago at Babies-R-Us. Since leaving the church, it's mostly been consignment shops. Nothing fancy that wasn't secondhand.

Which is why they want to get each of the four of them a new outfit that will last for next few years

Him: I don't think jim + kim would contribute to chains if they didn't have to. Always choosing places like goodwill over walmart

Me: Nah they'd still go somewhere nice. Kim's love for shiny things outweighs her communist sympathies.

She wants to pretend she's not materialistic, but low-maintenance bitches don't drink thousand dollar tequila or wear real gold.

I mean Goodwill is fine and all, but this is Prada man! She's only human!

Honestly Kim's hypocrisy with how she identifies with class I think is a really interesting facet of her personality.

This is why wealth redistribution campaigns always fail: first of all, in order to adequately navigate the upper class, the revolutionary already typically needs a middle class education or better. And second, even if an army does manage to steal from the rich, the leader finds it hard to actually give those winnings to the poor instead of just pocketing it. Kim hates rich people... except for herself; that person is a lucid and benevolent matriarch who DESERVES to be managing the money!

[duran-duran-less-official]

Ok ngl the fact that you refuse to watch the video before making an opinion on it strikes me as anti-intellectual. The video gives a very clear list of things to look out for for future instances of plagiarism and discusses why plagiarism (especially the plagiarism Somerton was doing which included stealing and harassing other smaller lgbt creators when they spoke up about it) is such a problem and how it’s easy to forget to check sources or think critically when it’s packaged in a well produced video like the ones he made.

I was not a Somerton fan (I bounced off his videos since they couldn’t hold my interest) but you have to understand he scammed a lot of people out of money while positioning himself as the True Queer Authority while spreading misinformation. Of course people are angry.

And were hbomb and todd just supposed to keep quiet about the fact that he was plagiarizing and spreading misinformation? If not for those videos, he would’ve kept scamming people. He was causing harm, and in an attention based job like this, the only way to stop them is to deplatform them. How else were they supposed to spread the word? Genuinely interested in how you think it should’ve been handled.

My guiding principle here is that when someone does a bad thing, the response to that should be proportional to the badness of the thing that was done.

The problem with HBomber as a handler of this kind of controversy is that he has no apparent upper limit on the number of hours he's willing to spend on this. And as I highlighted in an earlier post, he seems to treat any one thing he finds bad as equally bad as all the other things he talks about. I think it might be a consequence of the way his videos are formatted, and it all adds up to being disproportionate by definition.

Consider: If it's worth spending two hours talking in general terms about how plagiarism on Youtube is a pervasive problem, which I have little reason to doubt, why is it worth spending another two hours calling out one specific guy who does this thing that apparently a lot of people do? Does James McBlandname also kick puppies and protest against Planned Parenthood in his spare time? Like, the impression I get from that split is that one guy's acts of plagiarism are considered equally as bad as every other act of plagiarism on Youtube put together. And I'm sorry, I simply don't believe that any amount of plagiarism from one guy can be that morally bad.

As I said, this is a failing of HBomber's format, and the end result is that James Blanderson kind of... takes the fall for every Youtuber who has ever plagiarised. Is he worthy of derision? Yes, absolutely. Is he worthy of personally being a scapegoat for the entire Youtube plagiarism industry? There's practically no way that can be true.

It kinda makes me wish and hope that I never jumped on the Tommy Tallerico hate bandwagon—I legit don't remember if I ever have. But the same principle applies. Do intellectual property rights and their various abuses suck? No doubt. Does Tommy Tallerico deserve to be an icon of that particular sin when, say, the entire Microsoft corporation exists? Maybe not.

The question is, why single one guy out at all? Especially if it's a pervasive problem! If you're gonna go down the route of Prestige More-Than-Movie-Length Callout Post, the net result from that is you've entirely obliterated the online presence of one guy. Have you actually solved the problem? Even if the General portion of the video does the smart things, like tell viewers which genres of content farm are especially susceptible to this, or advising them how to spot when content might have been plagiarised as you're watching it, are people talking about that? Or are they talking about the one guy the other half of the video was about? What is your net impact here, and could it maybe be improved by cutting the video down to 30 minutes and being a bit more general?

All this doesn't even touch on how morally bad plagiarism is. Like it IS bad, sure, but there's degrees of badness. If you remember illuminaughtii's defining toxic trait as plagiarism, when in fact she was also very likely guilty of workplace bullying and financial/verbal abuse, then something has gone very wrong. I understand that this is Youtube, so the value of Content is at a premium, but maybe that means their own moral compasses have been warped, naturally treating plagiarism as considerably worse than the average person would or perhaps should. This is part of the point of me saying you aren't a Youtuber's foot soldier! They decided to make Youtube their lives, but you don't have to!

[yume-x-hanabi]

Concubinage Behind the Scenes - ch. 7

So apparently I forgot to cross-post a couple of these "behind the scenes" posts for my longfic I wrote a couple years ago, and since I'm about to resume this series, now's a good time to post them, starting where we left off at chapter 7.

(chapter | DW post | previous posts)

Aftermath of the beating

Thankfully, Arst was able to heal himself somewhat, so he's... well, still in pain, but less pain that he could have been. Not that it changes much—he's the type to push through and pretend he's fine anyway.

Plus, as I've mentioned before, he's got some practice at enduring beatings—and the ones he got in the past often happened in the middle of campaigns, so he sometimes had to go into battle still sore from the previous night's punishment. Not ideal at all.

Here it's just a training session, so it's more bearable, but still far from fun.

Lin's POV

Lin, as he'll explain in the next chapter, did have an inkling that Li was forcing the other trainees to submit to him, but he very naively thought he was just bribing them. He was not totally off-base tbh, that's something that happened a lot in the court: offer some gald here and there, and people look the other way.

Since Arst 'dared' to win against him, Lin was convinced that he would not be so easily corrupted. Despite how humiliating it is for him to lose in front of everyone, he finds it even more humiliating to have people fake defeat against him, so Arst actually treating him seriously was a much welcome change. That, coupled with their friendlier interactions as of late, actually made him pretty hopeful about the future of their relationship. Arst came back in a bad mood from that practice, but Lin chalked it up to him having had an argument with Li about the bribes or something.

The next day, they're facing each other again, and Lin is actually pretty excited about it (Arst, however, sees his smile and friendly banter as mockery). But then... Arst fakes a loss. He proves, in Lin's eyes, that he's no better than all the others who don't take him seriously. Lin is pretty crushed about it, and cuts his practice session short. (Here too, we have a misunderstanding, as Arst turns away before he sees the sadness and disapointment on Lin's face.)

While waiting for Arst to come back, Lin ponders what to do. He even briefly considers offering Arst more money than (what he thinks) Li did, but then he realizes that won't solve the actual problem. So he resolves to simply confront Arst about what happened. Which is... kinda big for Lin at the time, because he hates confrontation. It's a testament of how bothered he is about it that he's ready to address it head on.

Of course it doesn't go very well, and he's a bit taken aback by the sheer hostility Arst is now directing at him. That, plus Arst talking about "learning his lesson", eventually clues him in. He knows exactly what "teaching a lesson" means around here. So he tells Arst to undress for confirmation (dude, you could have just asked).

His first reaction is to jump into problem-solving mode. Arst is hurt = must stop the hurt. So he goes to his special stash of painkiller tea, all ready to share, but then he thinks of Minah and her healing abilities, and decides sending Arst to her would be even better. He makes up that pretense about fetching tea because 1. he's too shocked to think clearly and all the nonsense he was told about acting like a prince is taking over, and 2. he's got an inkling Arst wouldn't believe him anyway. So as long as he can get Arst to her, that's all that matters.

After Arst leaves, he probably spends the rest of the afternoon pacing around the room while processing everything he's just realized.

Minah

Oh Minah, my dear Minah. I think she was more middle-aged in my early concept of her, but then I decided a grandma-like character would be more fun. I didn't have much planned about her in terms of personality or anything, but she kinda... developed on her own within three lines lmao.

She's a bit of an odd one in that environment. Protocol? Traditions? Gender roles? Don't know 'em! Maybe it's because she's ran her shop on her own unbothered for so long, physically within the court but spiritually in her own little world, so she's not really bound by anything that happens around her.

She makes sure to stay as uninvolved as possible, and in return she's left unscrutinized. She's been there for so long she's practically part of the decor, in a way. So most people tend to overlook her. Need medicine? Go to old Minah! But aside from that they kinda forget she's there. Except Lin and a few others, who've come to enjoy her company and peculiar brand of wit.

Despite keeping her distance, she likes having company around, and she loves a good gossip. She was really looking forward to meeting Arst, so she got her wish there. Not the kind of introduction she expected, but definitely the highlight of her day.

She's really gifted with spirit artes, especially healing, which she started practicing since she was a child. She grew up playing assistant to her court healer father, so she developed an eye for illnesses and injuries pretty early on. This enabled her to notice that something was off about Arst. If this was a murder mystery, she'd definitely be the detective XD

Healing

I didn't set out to explore worldbuilding about healing artes from the start, but the more I brought them up, the more I naturally developed lore around it. I love giving a more in-depth spin to gameplay mechanics, so this was a good occasion. Healer Arst was something I'd decided on when I started, though. I loved the discovery that he was programmed to have Cure and Resurrection (unused data has always fascinated me!), and I wanted to make it an actual thing in a story. Since this is an AU, I thought that it would be the perfect setting for it. Especially since it'll be very useful to him here.

[sanjoongie]

Coeur Noir~

⚔️For my Year of the Villains Collab 

⚔️Pairing: Choi Jongho x Reader 

⚔️Genre: Hero/villain au, Medieval Au

⚔️Word Count: 5,364

⚔️Warnings: just two consensual adults having sex, lovemaking, praise kink kinda sorta, penetrative sex, yeaaaaaah

⚔️Rated: 18+ mdni, mentions of death(like seriously, a lot of character deaths), blood, physical fighting

⚔️Summary:  You are a hedge knight about to turn the world upside down. You have a plan to join the Kingsguard and in order to do that, you must defeat Jongho, the captain. Playing a game of revenge is a dangerous game, and one you might not win in, considering the way Jongho looks at you...

⚔️Dedication: @mejuii @downtoamagicalland​ my beta readers whom will make my ego so impossibly huge that I will never be able to be humble ever again >< sorry for the tears. and also to Jongho, since this is my first fic of his, i wanted it to be amazing!

"Jongho."

It was the way you said his name, sometimes, that made him want to lay down his sword forever and let you take care of him. It wasn't that his life wasn't fulfilling. It was that it was lonely. And you ate away at his loneliness like you were a bookworm in an ancient library. You were the demon that sucked all of his negative energy and left him with only good. He woke up one day and found that you had poisoned his heart with love and he didn't want anything else.

"Jongho?" You quirked your head at him, "Am I here on my own or are we going to fight?"

Jongho focused his eyes and broke into a gentle smile. "Oh, we're going to fight. You're going to lose again, but we'll still fight."

You laughed under your breath. "No, I think today will be the day I win."

Jongho didn't look so convinced. "What makes today special?"

You smiled, like you knew something he didn't. "That it is today."

Jongho rolled his neck, moving his shoulders in his practice gear. "Okay then. Show me why today is special."

You raised your shield, placing your short sword on the top. "No crying when you lose."

Jongho laughed, a short barking noise that made the corners of your lips lift up. "It's funny you think I cry."

You shrugged. "Oh, I'm sure you cry. In the right circumstances, of course."

Jongho unsheathed his sword, a large bastard sword that he pulled from his back. His muscles bulged as he held it aloft but it did not appear to be a struggle for him. "Disarm me. Disarm me and I'll introduce you to the King. That's what this has been about the entire time, right?"

The two of you began to circle each other. One foot carefully put in front of the other, knees bent and grace winding you in an endless circle. Your eyes were on Jongho's head. Where his head went, as did his body. You would wait for him to strike because he always did. Jongho wasn't much on defence. He didn't need to be.

He lunged and you dodged. The first attack was always a heavy over-hander. You learned very quickly that raising your shield, even though all your instincts screamed at you to block, was not going to help you win. Half the time Jongho hit your shield so hard it left your entire right arm numb. The other half of the times you wound up on your knees and you were never able to regain the higher ground.

"Very good, Hedge Knight. You're much better than when you first got here."

You were a wandering knight. You had no master. You were simply hired on to solve simple lords problems for coin. You went where the money pulled you. Or that's what Jongho believed. What you had led him to believe. You wanted him to believe you were a nobody. It was better if the Captain of the Kingsguard believed that. 

"Is that some jealousy I heard in your voice?" You said, the circling beginning again.

"Jealousy?" Jongho sounded genuinely confused. If you could focus on Jongho's face, you would see the way his lower lip made a sweet 'u' in puzzlement. 

"You've known since the beginning what I'm here for Jongho. I made it very clear to you." Your voice was steady and level. You were attempting to be reasonable with a bear. At least the bear wasn't angry yet.

"Yes, I know." 

Jongho never shouted before he attacked. Jongho never let you know what he was about to do. Many knights, soldiers, fighters, yelled as if they needed to verbalize the courage it took to attack. But not Jongho. He was big but he was silent. He was damn good too.

His blade came out of nowhere and you had no choice but to parry. His dark blade glided along your gilded one with a satisfying shing. Jongho was grinning now. "That was showy."

You smiled. "I figure, you should be entertained while you fight. Must be boring, fighting me every day for months now."

Jongho was confused again. "No. Are you bored?"

Your smile grew on your face. "No, Jongho. I'm not bored fighting the Captain of the Kingsguard."

Jongho grinned. "Are you flattering me?"

"You? The Bear of the Castle? The man who single-handedly helped the king regain his throne once he became of age. One of the seven who championed our good King into achieving his realm of peace and happiness? The--"

Jongho took advantage of your long winded speech, an uppercut swing almost taking the tip of your nose off if you had not taken a quick step backwards.

"Those are stories people tell each other during the night to entertain themselves." Jongho's dark eyes were serious now. "Don't believe everything you've heard."

You sighed. "I heard that you were the biggest cock that any wench had seen in every damn inn and town you visited. Should I not believe that?"

Jongho began to choke on his own saliva, completely taken off guard by that comment. You slammed into him with your shield, solidly knocking his sword out of his hands. You brought the tip of your sword to tap under Jongho's chin. "I win."

Jongho's eyes became stormy with an emotion that you had never seen in them before. You couldn't read him at this moment. 

"You're not jealous. You're hurt." 

Jongho broke your gaze and bent down to pick up his sword. He brandished it and then sheathed it. "Why would I be hurt?"

"I'm not so sure myself," You said slowly, as if you needed to chew on your words to understand them yourself. "You know I need a meeting with the King. You told me, not everyone is able to demand such a thing. You told me if I beat you, disarmed you, that you would introduce me to the king. You said--"

"I know what I said!" Jongho shouted.

You frowned at him. "Are we not friends? Have we not become comrade in arms while I've been here? Have I not put my all into these attempts? Have I not earned this in your eyes? Am I not worthy enough to meet him? What is wrong with me?"

"No," Jongho said this quietly. "Nothing is wrong with you."

"Then what is going on, Jongho?" You demanded. You took a step forward, sheathing your sword and placing your shield on your back. "Tell me."

Jongho took a step back. "There's a chance to have an audience with him tonight. I'll arrange it."

You let out a noise of frustration. "Jongho."

"I am simply a tool of his majesty. If he deems you another good tool to have in his arsenal, then he will invite you to be a part of the Kingsguard. You will no longer have to wander to earn coin. You could… remain here." Jongho paused to swallow. "You could put roots down."

You stripped your gloves off your hands and tucked them into the belt that held your sword sheath. You gripped the front of Jongho's boiled leather chest plate. "Talk to me Jongho."

"It would be good. For you to be a part of the Kingsguard."

"It would be."

Jongho blew out air from his mouth, moving the fringes of his hair. "It would be good to still be able to practice together. Every day. Like we have been. Still." His jilted sentences made no sense.

"Your help has been indispensable to my talents. Jongho, please, you must know how much I admire you."

Jongho's eyes flicked your way and then moved away again. "Admire?"

You licked your lips. "You didn't deny my previous statement."

"You made a lot of statements."

"Are you going to make me say it out loud again?" You asked.

"It's true," Jongho muttered under his breath, "They all say that."

"Well, then that's something else of yours I can admire."

That brought Jongho's back to yours again. The pure surprise was written all over his face. You started to laugh, you couldn't help it. "What? Is that frowned upon if I join the Kingsguard?"

Jongho began to stutter. "Well that's--I mean no, not necessarily--but!"

"Jongho."

Your voice steadied him. He settled, standing a little bit straighter. He held his breath as your hand cupped the curve of his cheek. 

"Tell me."

"I thought… I thought you wanted to get to the King. I thought you wanted to get close to him. I thought I was the means to the end. I thought--"

Your voice became chilly. "Did you think I was looking to become Queen?"

"He won't, you know. He had one love. She died before he became King. He'll never love again. If he can't have her as his queen, he'll have no one."

"I know." You cleared your throat, banishing what was stuck there. "I know the story."

"Then?" Jongho's voice was clogged with something heavy.

You pasted a smile on your face. "Like you said. I want to put down roots. I'm tired, Jongho. My soul is tired. I want consistency. I want the best consistency. I want to be a part of the Kingsguard. I don't want to be Queen."

Jongho's hands shook as his hand encompassed yours. He pulled it away from his cheek but he didn't let it go. "Who do you want then?"

"If the question is who, then, I think I should be drunk and you should be congratulating me on becoming a part of the Kingsguard."

🗡🗡🗡

The dinner was arranged in the great hall. Everyone was present. Jongho laid forward his case. Surely a knight who could disarm him could become one of the Kingsguard.

"But she's not one of us," Wooyoung was quick to say.

Seonghwa frowned. "I thought you loved men AND women."

Wooyoung shook his head. "In bed, Seonghwa. That doesn't mean that applies to--THAT'S NOT WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT!"

Seonghwa flinched as Wooyoung slammed his tankard against the table. "Well, what do you mean?"

"She wasn't here. She didn't fight the old Kingsguard. She didn't watch--"

"Wooyoung."

Mingi, at the head of the long table, stopped Wooyoung before he could bring up the one great tragedy in the King's life. His fingers were steepled, his eyes in deep thought. 

"What do you think, Seonghwa?"

Seonghwa grinned toothily, "Can the King really have too many guards?"

It was simple but effective. 

"Your Majesty--"

Mingi raised a hand to halt Jongho. "I already made my decision."

Wooyoung sat down heavily, a smug look painted on his face. "That's what I'm saying. Mingi understands."

"On your feet, Hedge Knight."

You stood. You bowed at the waist, arm tucked against your stomach. "Your majesty."

"You are not dismissed."

Wooyoung's mouth made an 'o' in surprise. "Sorry--what?!"

"When was the last time someone disarmed Jongho?" Mingi asked.

Seonghwa's eyes moved back and forth in thought, as if he was searching his memories. "San?"

Everyone suddenly sported a ghost of a smile. Everyone except for you but you were used to being left out when it came to stories of the days of old. 

"It was the fight for who would become Captain," Wooyoung recalled. "San disarmed him. He had that stupid grin he got when he won anything. And he said something horribly disgraceful like 'A bear can't defeat a mountain'."

Mingi's dark eyes studied you. It took everything in you to not tremble. Everything depended on this moment. "San was a good knight. So is Jongho."

Seonghwa's head swung between his companions and then his gaze landed on you. "So is she, apparently."

Mingi stood up suddenly, clapping his hands together. "Then it's decided."

"Fine!" Wooyoung agreed, quite grumpy. "Fine, she can join. But I don't have to like it."

"But I thought--" Seonghwa looked confused again.

"In bed, Seonghwa!" Wooyoung threw up his hands in the air. "Can we vote on kicking Seonghwa out as well?"

Jongho slapped Wooyoung behind the head for his remark. 

"You may kneel, Hedge--" Mingi cut himself off, smiling endearingly, "I suppose you are no longer a Hedge Knight."

The king knighted you, amongst the bickering knights, Jongho and the crackling of the large fire. You became a knight of the kingsguard amongst the shadows and the camaraderie. You were a part but not. It was an interesting conundrum. 

"What shall you pick as your symbol as a knight of the kingsguard?" Mingi asked curiously.

You smiled, "Why, a robin."

You watched as Mingi absorbed your words. Watched them sink into his consciousness and ring the bell of awareness. "A robin? I knew someone once who loved robins."

"I saw a robin take flight this morning, Your Majesty. It is a symbol of new beginnings. It seems fitting."

Mingi's eyes were unfocused. He was no longer present but living a memory that haunted him. You grew satisfied that she wasn't forgotten, at least. Mingi shook his head and returned back to the present. "Yes. And luck. And spring."

"Stupid," Wooyoung spit onto the floor. "Who's going to be afraid of a Robin?"

Mingi's eyes grew stormy. Wooyoung avoided his gaze immediately. 

"What did Yeosang used to say about Wooyoung's fox symbol?" Seonghwa wondered.

"He used to say," Jongho's mouth twisted into a smirk, "That at least you wouldn't be surprised when his dagger was in your back. Typical tricksy fox antics."

Wooyoung crossed his arms and sunk into his chair, clearly unsatisfied. "I never stabbed anyone in the back. Ever."

Jongho chuckled, slapping Wooyoung shoulder companionably. "Exactly. Everyone always overestimated you. Now they'll underestimate her."

"Oh, that's smart," Seonghwa said out loud, eating again.

"Can we drink now?" Jongho's eyes were merry, dancing in happiness, "I believe some congratulations are in order."

🗡🗡🗡

"I can't…" Jongho faltered on his words but it was simply because he needed to weigh them with his worries. "I cannot have you for just this one night."

You paused disrobing him, hands on the hem of his shirt. You looked around in thought. "There could be other nights, depending on whether you prove the wench's true."

"Don't jest, please, in this one moment, I beg of you." Jongho took both your hands into his own hands. 

"Why do you think I'm joking?"

"This is a matter of the heart, for me." He brought your hands to his lips and kissed them. "There can only be no night of this or every night of this."

"Do you question my dedication, Captain?" You raised an eyebrow.

Jongho shook his head. "I don't want to be your captain. Not here."

"Jongho." 

Jongho's eyebrows furrowed. He sported that same expression from before; like he was hurting. "I would do anything for you." He moved to his knees, to be supplicant before you. He brought your hands to his lips again. "You own my heart." 

You bent over at the waist. Your own flowing shirt had come loose awhile ago. Your corset held it in place but the ties at your chest had come undone. Jongho's eyes greedily ate up your revealed skin. You knew you were the one in power, at this moment. 

"Should I take it then?"

Jongho's eyes, sincere and serious, found yours. "If I could rip it from my chest and give it to you myself, I would."

"Good thing that isn't necessary to prove your words. Otherwise that would look quite bad on my part, hmmm? The captain dying in my bed chambers? My newly given bed chambers?" You giggled. "Are we christening my bedchambers, Captain?"

Jongho yanked on your hands, bringing you tumbling into his body. "I seem to remember asking you to be serious." He wasn't truly angry. He was using his strength to his advantage. No, you had let him use his strength to his advantage.

You pouted. "You're no fun, Jongho, truly."

Jongho captured your chin firmly between his fingers. "I will be kissing that pout off your face now, my love."

"Okay," You whispered.

You let Jongho take what he needed. With every brush of his fingers, every lick, he was telling you how he loved you. The hollow of your throat was marked with love bites. Your breasts were squeezed with enthusiasm that only a starved man was capable of. His hands enjoyed manhandling your waist, feeling it in between and to claim as his. Lips trailed along your thighs, small growls erupting from his throat when you attempted to close them on his head when he wasn't done with you yet. Jongho didn't want to fornicate with you, he wanted to make love to your body. 

This was a moment you had anticipated. It was a part of the plan. What you had not calculated for was the reverence this man had for you. There was not one inch of skin that he didn't want to pray to. When Jongho said he loved you, he meant every single piece that made you you. He even kissed the softness of your eyelids, murmuring to the veins there. You had not calculated how Jongho's love would affect you.

"Jongho, Jongho," You chanted his name.

He blinked slowly, as if he was coming up from a daydream. "Tell me what is lacking. I can do it."

You couldn't help but snicker at him. He thought that you were trying to tell him how to correct a wrong but you were attempting to pull the love from this lovemaking. "Nothing. You lack nothing but it seems you are neglecting yourself."

Jongho shook his head. "I only need you."

You put a hand on his chest, fingers curling along his collarbones. "You have me. But you have not allowed me to return the favor."

"No." His voice was hoarse as your hands skimmed up his thighs as he lay beside you on the bed.

"No?" You found him hard at the junction of his thighs and he breathed in sharply when you took him in your hand. "How could you deny me this?" You slowly stroked him and Jongho groaned, tossing his head back in ecstasy. "So velvety soft but so hard." You squeezed him gently and Jongho cried out.

"Don't--" He hissed as you stroked him again. "I do not want to coat your hand with my seed."

"What about my mouth then?" You asked cheekily.

"No," Jongho grunted. 

He pushed you to your back, placing his body between your thighs. "I would feel your wet softness, feel you around me." His adam's apple bobbed. "Let me have you. Truly."

You raised yourself so that you could capture his lips with yours. He let you delve into his mouth, taste the wine he had imbibed on. Jongho took everything you gave of him. "I already told you, Jongho. You have me."

Your legs were spread widely to receiving Jongho. He sunk into you, eyes squeezed shut in an attempt to not burst before he could reside inside of you. "Beloved," Jongho whispered.

You caressed his face. "I'm here, Jongho. I'm here."

Jongho opened his eyes at the first thrust. His upper lip twitched as a snarl left his mouth. "You are mine."

You lifted your hips for the second thrust and Jongho snarled again. "Yours. All yours, love."

His arms caged you but it was not a trap. You felt safe in his embrace. His hips moved with accuracy only a skilled lover was knowledgeable in. One hand pushed down your thigh, spreading you even wider for him. "You take me so well," Jongho marvelled.

"Those other girls didn't know what they were getting into, Jongho," You chuckled and then gasped as Jongho made you see stars behind your eyelids. "God."

"Tell me," Jongho whispered.

"So--so good," You whimpered. "You fill me so well. I feel so full. You--" You gasped again as another sharp thrust pushed you towards your goal. "You are stroking me in just the right place. I've never--hnnnnn--never had a lover--Jongho, god. How--how am I supposed to--speak of--?" Your mind became a jumble of unfinished sentences. That part was not faked. He was truly making you speechless with each thrust. 

Jongho gathered you so that you sat up with him. You were practically cross-eyed staring back at him. Every gasp of yours painted his mouth moist with your breath. Your chests were pressed up against each other, hard to your soft. There was barely a gap between the two of you and that was exactly what Jongho wanted.

"My world is yours. My breath is yours. I cannot live if your heart does not beat. I once thought Mingi a fool for leaving his kingdom heirless but now I know why. His truth. I could never lose you. I would rather lose myself before I let that happen. I would see you climax all night before I saw even one."

"Jongho, no," You disagreed.

Jongho smiled. It showed the pink of his gums but the quaint way his eyes squeezed close in glee punched the air out of your lungs. He was genuinely happy in this one moment. "Do not worry about me."

You slapped his chest lightly. "And who was the one who insisted we remain serious?"

Jongho consumed your lips in a rush of love that thrummed through him. Your bodies met again and again and then Jongho was consuming your sighs of satisfaction. You came around him, walls fluttering around him, taking him for all he was worth. Jongho wasn't far behind you, holding your hips hard against his so that he could bury himself deep inside of you. You remained like that for a while. Jongho was busy running his hand up and down the indent of your spine and you were keen on playing with his hair at the nape of his neck. The intimacy of remaining wound together like this was not lost on either of you.

"Will you let me love you for all my days?" Jongho asked softly.

"Your love will be alive in my heart even after," You promised.

🗡🗡🗡

It was the following evening when you sprung your plan into motion. You offered to take Jongho's late night shift. You smiled sweetly at him and told him of how you wanted to creep into your bed late at night and find him sleeping there. So Jongho let you change shifts with guarding the king and then there was nothing in the way of exacting your revenge.

Mingi had not died quietly, which you had not cared about but it did bring Wooyoung and Seonghwa straight to the King's bedchambers just as you finished wiping your dagger clean.

Seonghwa fell upon Mingi's body with an earth-shattering sob that would have made even the angels cry along with him. Wooyoung grabbed you and called for the lesser guards for manacles. They had you in the hallway outside the King's bedchambers in minutes. 

Wooyoung beat you while he sobbed with his teeth biting down on his lower lip. "How could you?"

One of the lesser guards had gone to wake up the captain and when Jongho saw you on your knees with your hands behind your back and Wooyoung swinging his hands at your head, he broke into a full fledged run.

"Wooyoung!"

Wooyoung's arm went out to bar Jongho's way. Jongho was so consumed with getting to you that he clearly didn't think that he could simply break through it. "She is not one of us," Wooyoung said for the umpteenth time.

"What do you mean, she's not one of us?" Jongho demanded.

"Mingi is dead, Jongho."

Jongho shook his head. "He's not."

"Tell that to Seonghwa. He can't let go of the corpse."

That seemed to slap the reality into Jongho. "What?"

"She killed him."

"No."

You spit some blood out of your mouth and cackled. "I did."

"No. She doesn't know what she's talking about."

"She's not looking to hide it, Jongho." Wooyoung lifted his hand to slap you but Jongho stopped him. 

"Touch her again and I'll have your balls," Jongho threatened.

You smiled widely, pleased that the bear had his collar around his neck and he didn't even know it. "I told you, Wooyoung."

Wooyoung gripped Jongho by his upper arms. "You are the Captain of the guard. You are the best of us. Mingi is dead. Dead on your watch! San never--"

Jongho punched Wooyoung. "Do not speak my brother's name."

"Hongjoong taught us all better, Jongho, what is wrong with you?" Wooyoung raged, spittle dropping from his mouth like an animal. "Did Yunho not sacrifice himself so that Mingi would remain alive? He took a blade meant for our prince." Wooyoung pushed Jongho away. "The wrong brother died that night."

"Wooyoung." Jongho didn't seem to understand how Wooyoung could even say those things.

Wooyoung pointed at you, throwing his entire arm. "She killed Mingi, Jongho. She was guarding the King and instead she slipped a dagger under his ribs. She reached both of her arms into his body so that she could carve his heart out of his chest. She didn't just kill him, she decided he couldn't even have the honour of dying with his heart in his chest!"

Jongho's eyes swung back to you. "How?"

"Why, love. Why is the correct question."

"Love!" Wooyoung threw his hands up in the air. "It's all a lie! She never loved you!"

Jongho focused back on Wooyoung once again. "You don't know that."

"She lured you into her embrace, Jongho, why can't you see that?" Wooyoung pushed his hands through his hair, tugging on the ends in frustration. His hands were coated with blood, so it only made his hair stick up more. 

"You say your goodbyes. I'll give you that." Wooyoung's face had grown cold. He strode away a few feet, turning his back on the two of you.

"Why?" Jongho asked like he was a broken man.

"I am not a hedge knight, Jongho. I have never wandered this godforsaken land. I had not stepped one foot into this kingdom until only a few months ago. I have been training my whole life to keep my sister safe. She was the one who was going to rule our kingdom and I was going to protect her. We were going to correct our father's wrongs. But guess who decided he was going to fall in love with her? The goddamn silver haired wolf who condemned my sister to a death she did not earn."

The dawning on Jongho's face would have been almost comical, if you were in the laughing mood. "Your sister was Mingi's love."

Tears were streaming down your blood-splattered cheeks as you recalled your sister. "She was kind. She was so gentle. My symbol, the robin, was her favorite bird. Father broke pieces off of her with each cruelty he committed against her and still she would smile. When Father found out that Mingi and my sister had fallen in love, she never smiled again. She spent months--" You gasped in air at the memory of the torture your own father had inflicted on your sister. "--when he finally got the entire story of how she and Mingi were going to bring the two warring kingdoms together; how they were going to marry and make children…"

Then it really struck Jongho who you truly were. "You're the Queen."

You giggled. "I told you I didn't want to be Queen. I never wanted it. It was her duty in life. But when I killed my father and became Queen, I swore I would have my revenge. How is it that your kingdom remains peaceful and content and cozy and happy when my whole life has burned down around my ears. How is it that Mingi gets to live when my sister is dead? Where is the fairness in that?"

"Time's up," Wooyoung interrupted. "If you don't kill her. I will." A fresh wail came from inside Mingi's chambers and that made Wooyoung wince. "Our life's work… everything we strived for. The power-hungry king dead, replaced by Mingi, who only wanted to make the world safe. San, Yunho, Yeosang and Hongjoong all dead so that we could do that. We are all that's left. We did it. Mingi became king and we kept him alive. All that and now it's all gone."

"I can't let you do this." Jongho's eyes searched your face.

"Do you think I care about anything after this? I don't even have the luxury of seeing my sister in the afterlife. I don't care. The scales are balanced. If I cannot have my sister, the true queen of my homeland, then you cannot have your good King Mingi. You cannot," You vowed.

Jongho turned around. He wasn't talking to you. He unsheathed his sword and walked towards Wooyoung. Wooyoung's eyes widened in surprise but only temporarily. "Jongho, surely you cannot be serious? She will be the last one to die tonight. Not anymore of us."

"I cannot let you kill her, Wooyoung." Jongho stood firm before you.

Wooyoung shook his head but his arms were at the ready by his sides. "No, Jongho. No! It'll hurt but she must die. She killed the remainder of the good in this world! She must answer for her crimes."

"She is mine. She is the other half of my heart. If you kill her, you are killing me. I cannot let you do that."

Jongho rushed in a moment, without a hint or a shout. He rammed into Wooyoung's chest, slamming him into the wall and causing the knight to slump against the wall. But Wooyoung had fought by Jongho for all of his life. He knew what Jongho would do. So Wooyoung had pulled the dagger from his thigh before Jongho could run at him. And so, Wooyoung had slammed the dagger into Jongho's back just as Jongho's shoulders had hit his chest. Jongho slid to his knees as Wooyoung gasped as if he had broken ribs.

You had prepared to die. You had even prepared for Jongho to be the one to kill you. But you had not prepared for Jongho to die in front of you to stop Wooyoung from killing you. You breathed in deeply and let out a violent shout. You jumped up, your knees hitting your chest and swung the manacles out to the front of your body. It took you two large steps until you were in front of Wooyoung and then with another pain-wracking yell, you swung your manacles against Wooyoung's forehead. He crumpled to the floor immediately but you didn't wait to see him hit the ground.

You were immediately on Jongho, pressing your hands to each side of his cheek, as much as your manacles would allow. "You are an idiot." You cried. The tears for your sister felt different then your tears for Jongho.

You didn't dare pull the knife in his back out. You knew he would bleed to death if you did. But the blood painting Jongho's lips were no joke either. He could have a punctured lung. "Why? I killed your king. I killed Mingi. Why did you attack Wooyoung?"

"I told you," Jongho coughed uncomfortably. "I would do anything for you."

"You betrayed everything you love!" You shouted.

"You are everything I love," Jongho insisted.

Somewhere between your pain for revenge and your determination to finish it, you had committed to your character too much. You became the knight who fell in love with her captain. You needed it to be believable. You needed Jongho to believe it with his entire heart and he did. So you had condemned your own heart to the same fate. 

"You are everything I love," You said back to him. You kissed him softly, sobs still wracking through your body.

"I know," Jongho smiled through his pain. 

Your sister's smile through the pain superimposed over Jongho's and you felt your heart break for the second time in your life. 

"Will you let me love you for all my days?" Jongho asked softly.

"Your love will be alive in my heart even after," You promised.

[theoreticallysensible]

Analysis paralysis hits hard for millennials and gen z, I think. Everything seems so complex, especially when we’re all so *aware* of it all the time, that any small thing we have to do day to day seems pointless, and anything bigger seems impossible to do well enough. “But I worry and I give money and I feel useless behind this computer, and that’s just barely scratched the surface of my mind” - as the great sage of our times, Hayley Williams, tells us.

This is especially bad if we have memories of doing wrong in the past. Whether real or imagined, this can be traumatic, and make being absolutely perfect or else doing nothing at all seem like the only option.

But perfection is impossible. We all know this on some level - there’s simply too much complexity to any problem for us to even learn about all of it within our lifetime, let alone understand it, especially since everything is always developing along with us. Some forethought is often necessary to avoid negligence, especially when addressing bigger problems, and we must always learn from our mistakes to heal from them (which can take some time), but at some point action is necessary - to be there for people, to make some difference, to try. Sometimes that’s the really important thing, even if it doesn’t achieve any of what you tried to achieve - you showed that you cared, and you may inspire others to try too, and together you can achieve more than either could alone.

Accepting imperfection is more than just practically useful though. It means also being more compassionate, accepting that just as you can’t achieve perfection, neither can others - and they may even disagree with you! Just like you might sometimes not even be sure what perfection means to you, and it may be that you need to try something to work it out. You can learn from your failures, sometimes you can learn about past failures through making more, and you can learn from other people’s efforts. Thinking that you could know the answers perfectly, that you need to in order to act, makes it hard to learn from action happening right in front of you.

You don’t need a perfect knowledge of psychology or first aid to comfort and care for someone. You don’t need a perfect knowledge of a subject to write and share some ideas about it (to get meta). You don’t need to perfect knowledge of politics, society, and economics to advocate for or act on behalf of a conviction about how the world should be. Thinking that you ever could is pretty arrogant anyway, and it seems silly when confronted head on, but I do think that so much of despair comes from an implicit belief that we should have perfect knowledge before acting.

There was the beginnings of a revolution in France in 1968, and it failed. The Marxist leadership refused to believe that students could be revolutionary. They failed to see the productive effect they were having, that they were already reaching out to others, and so they refused to support them. They thought that conditions had to be perfect for any change to happen, and so they couldn’t learn from the creativity of the students who were already making a better world. If they had, they may have achieved something like what they said they wanted.

Importantly, when it comes to political questions, we don’t need to be aiming to solve the whole world’s problems at once. That’s too big a problem! No one person can do that, and there’s no group capable of doing it that we could align ourselves with. Start small, solve smaller problems in ways that align with your principles. This does immediate good, but also shows other people (and you) that there are other ways of doing things, and people willing to do them. This builds groups that can address bigger things, and provides a space to learn ways of acting that couldn’t have been imagined before people started trying things. “A theory cannot be developed without encountering a wall, and a praxis is needed to break through.” - Gilles Deleuze

Learning is not a project that can be completed, it’s a frame of mind - being open to a world which will always change and people whose capabilities will always surprise you. Accepting that people, including yourself, will always be different from how you want them to be, and accepting and supporting them in their projects anyway, not when they’re perfect, but when they’re headed in the right direction.

[theintrovertbean]

Hope school is going well for you! I love your writing and wanted to make a request <3

Could you explore how Nadia and MC handle arguments? Especially their first argument. I’m sure they don’t happen too often, but with the stress of being in the palace and sometimes Nadia’s sarcasm and stubbornness based off her route, I can definitely see them arguing here and there.

Hello, Anon! Thank you! Yeah, uni is going well; it's just a little tiring and lonely. Thank gayness, I'm enjoying this semester much more than the previous ones (this is my second year), but the amount of literature I must read for my classes is just ugh. But well, they might help me become a better writer, so I'm not complaining about that.

I believe that arguments happen in every relationship, and Nadia might be perfect, but her relationship with MC is no exception. She doesn't strike me as someone who would start arguments because they want some drama, but she doesn't shy away from defending herself either. We stan a strong pretty lady who stands up for herself.

They don't happen often; we can definitely agree on that. But when they do occur, they're usually quite civilized. I imagine their arguments become less heated as they get to know each other on a deeper level and as the relationship progresses.

Anyway, I hope that you will enjoy it!

Nadia and MC's arguments

Nadia is more rational than emotional, so she prefers to solve arguments quickly and logically. She thinks of ways she and her partner could solve the issue, but sadly, that's usually not how arguments work.

The first argument happened when MC realized what it really meant to be Vesuvia's Countess. Nadia was simply busy as hell. She tried to make time for MC, but there was so much work to do, and the city still needed a lot of repairs. Nadia always did her best to finish work by the evening so that she would have some time to spend with MC, but as soon as the Countess' head touched her pillow, she was out.

And as much as MC loves gazing at this Prakran Sleeping Beauty (who wouldn't), it made them realize that being a Countess is much more than getting pretty outfits tailored all the time. It didn't have to go on for too long, maybe for a week or two, and then MC began to question their relationship. Is it always going to be like this? They spent so much time together during the investigation, and now they were lucky if they could sneak a kiss when randomly meeting in the hallways. That shit hurts, especially if MC is on the clingy side.

And well, that's just not enough. So when MC eventually decides to talk to Nadia about the problem, things become even worse. But being busy as ever, the Countess simply promises MC that they will talk about it later, which does not happen because Nadia is still very busy, and MC loses it.

MC bursts into Nadia's office without permission, raises their voice at her and asks her why she has been avoiding them, if she loves them at all, and if their relationship means anything to her. Now, Nadia does not yell unless she is also being yelled at, so when MC does, she does too.

And so they argue and yell at each other until MC eventually leaves the room. Some tears are being shed in both Nadia and MC's cases, so being alone for a moment seemed like a good idea.

Then while she is alone, the realization hits Nadia, and she thinks this to herself: "Wait, I love this person. I'm not supposed to treat them like this, and I need to fix this mess." Nadia soon finds MC and apologizes (hopefully, MC does too). They calmly discuss the issue and try to come up with a solution that works best for both of them.

They probably had an argument about gifts at some point. Based on the OCs I've seen, most MCs are not exactly wealthy. So, when Nadia showers MC with all sorts of lavish things, it can become overwhelming for them. When you spend your entire life in a less fortunate household, accepting expensive things or a larger amount of money isn't exactly easy.

This argument was more civilized, and they just sat down and talked it through. Nadia was hurt, but she understood why MC felt the way that they did. Most of their arguments are like this. No yelling, just two people who love each other very much talking through things like adults should.

For Nadia, emotions can be difficult. It might be a little harder for her to understand her partner's emotions during and after arguments. When things are calm, she asks MC about what she did wrong, how they feel, how she could improve her behavior, etc. Basically, she takes a more logical approach. To make things less unpleasant, she needs MC to explain their emotions to her.

Nadia is sometimes a bit stubborn during arguments, so when the worst part is done, and she and MC stay in separate rooms for a while (I mean like 30 minutes to an hour), it really helps her. She can think more clearly that way, and it also helps her realize if she's in the wrong. In that case, she always apologizes first. If MC is wrong, but they don't apologize to her soon, it hurts Nadia more than the argument itself.

Their fights are never physical. Sure, someone might slam the door on their way out, but Nadia would never hit MC. If MC, however, dares to hit Nadia, the relationship is immediately over. Nadia has endured one toxic marriage. She doesn't need another one. Her siblings may or may not destroy MC if they eventually find out.