#be prepared to listen to that and actually speak to the women in their life as equals and not use their social power to demand subservience

[hurts2think]

Hi! I really liked your profile and every now and then I check to see if you've written anything new. And I'm especially happy to see your love for the queer community!

I'd like to request something for Queen of hearts x fem!reader. Maybe their interaction in the morning after spending the night together. They're not really a couple and it's casual, but you can see that they both care about each other. Some bickering and small sassy remarks towards each other, but still a lot of compliments (both are too stubborn and oblivious to notice the other's feelings). Maybe all this in the context of the famous meme with lesbians doing each other's makeup (because I can't get enough of Rita Ora's brilliant makeup in this movie). Thanks in advance, have a nice day! 💖

🌹The Queen of Hearts x Reader🌹

Reader pronouns: She/her

Pairing: Queen of Hearts x Fem! servant! reader

Plot: Becoming a personal servant for the Queen meant a lot, little did you know it meant waking up in her bed and finding yourself with unexplainable feelings for her

Word count: 1.6k

Extra: Thank you so much you're so sweet😭🫶 it's currently 2 am so this one is kind of a mess but I hope you still love it🎀

When you were first selected for this job, you were honored yet a little horrified. It was a very huge opportunity but the past couple of people who held this job were ‘fired’, which was putting it lightly… You really didn’t have a choice on if you accepted or denied the job. The Queen wanted you so you had to listen.

You thought maybe you’d live a little more comfortably (financially speaking) than the other people of the kingdom before you eventual demise, but never would you have expected for this job to lead up to you waking up in the Queen’s bed.

Being the Queen’s personally assistant meant spending lots of time around her, of course. You did anything and everything she told you too. Running errands for her, fetching anything she may need, helping her dress, and undress, really whatever she didn’t feel like doing.

And she was gorgeous, of course. Everyone knew that. But you were both women so it's not like it was awkward or anything, right? Well, after so many times of helping her in and out of her gowns, it was hard not to look. The Queen was always very observant of everything, so naturally she saw the way you’d fidget and avert your eyes everytime. Then it was like she was purposely trying to make you squirm. One think led to another, and then another, and now you’re laying next to her in her grand bed.

And, well, this wasn’t exactly the first time this had happened.

You stared at the ceiling, really starting to question what has become of your life. The light from the sun started to gently peak through the red tented windows, casting a soft red glow into the room. You turn your head to see a still sleeping Queen, who even looked regal in her slumber with the light reflecting on her perfectly clear skin.

You carefully got up, cautious to not wake her, and grabbed your clothes that had been discarded on the floor the night prior. You changed into your usual attire, preparing to start your day. Better to get a head start before she woke and started to complain about something you hadn’t had time to do yet.

You always secretly wished you had something more with her. Because, as awful as she may seemed, you'd grown quite fond of her. You started to actually care for her outside of the fact you had to. But you knew she could never feel the same. You were tired of the same awkward silence after a long night with her to only pretend nothing happened.

After Bridget woke you helped her get ready for the day. You helped her into her extravagant gown, pulling the corset of the dress perhaps a little too tightly on accident.

"I'm sorry if I'm distracting you, but please do be more careful," she casted a glare at you and you immediately loosened the corset, you face heating up a little.

"Sorry, your majesty." You apologize quietly, fixing the back of her dress and fluffing the skirt of it. She rolled your eyes at your response but didn't say anything else.

Once you were done with her gown she'd demanded you did her makeup as well. Usually she did her own makeup so you weren't sure why she wanted you to do it. But you did so anyway. You stood in front of her as she sat in front of the mirror, carefully applying her intense eyeshadow as she stares at your face intently.

You stay focused and try not to notice the way she was staring at you. You finish her eyeshadow and then pull out one of her various deep red lipsticks that were of course shaped like hearts.

But as you were about to apply the lipstick you felt a hand firmly set on your waist and pulling you into her lap. You let out a small noise of surprise in response, looking her in the eyes as if asking what she was doing.

"I don't know why you must keep your distance, it's not as if I bite." She says, her face as stone cold as ever while her eyes trail on you up and down.

Your eyes narrow ever so slightly as you let out a soft scoff, "We both know that's not true."

She smirks, as if proud of herself in someway in response to your comment.

You gently grab her face to hold her still while you started to apply her lipstick, making her already beautifully colored lips an even deeper red. You bit the inside of your mouth, having a hard time controlling yourself while being so close and sitting in her lap.

"You seem distracted." The Queen states, though it was obvious she was mocking you and knew exactly what she was doing.

You look her in the eyes and give her a look that sceams you want to say something snarky but know you can't. And she loved it. She loved seeing you get frustrated and unable to make any kind of snarky rebuttal.

It was weird the way she found herself becoming attached to you. At first she thought she'd sentence you off like the others, but you've already been around much longer. Then she convinced herself she only admired how much of a diligent woman you were. Then she tried to tell herself she only liked the way you got along with her daughter just fine, something she was never able to do. But it was only so long before she couldn't deny the feelings she felt for you.

After you finished her makeup Bridget was ready for the day. She had court which you weren't actually supposed to attend. So, while she was being carried out on her throne, you were running around the castle and taking on many errands and jobs while she was away. She trusted you with pretty much everything which just meant MORE work for you.

As tired as you were and how you couldn't wait for the day to be over, you still got all of your work done in a quick and efficient manner and a way that would be acceptable for the queen.

A little later in the day, you were finishing up an errand before you returned back to the Queen's side.

You knock on the large double doors to her room before entering, seeing a very stressed Bridget sitting at her desk.

"Ugh, there you are." She only spares one glance at you before turning away again.

You could only suppose that court did not go well. "Do you need anything, your majesty?" You ask, a little too scared to actually ask what was wrong.

But it seemed you didn't need to because she was more than happy to start complaining about how horribly court went,

"I can never understand that girl. It's like she's learned nothing that I've ever taught her! After that indolent solider couldn't even protect my portrait or plaza, Red couldn't even properly punish him. How will she ever be Queen?" She lets out a frustrated sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose with her index finger and thumb.

It wasn't unusual for the Queen to speak of her troubled relationship with her daughter. So you did as you usually did, setting your clipboard aside and coming up beside her and massaging her shoulders. Her body visibly relaxed, closing her eyes and already letting out a little tension.

You stayed silent and like that for a moment before she spoke again, "What should I do about her?"

Your face scrunches in confusion, "You're asking me?" You ask for reassurance. It wasn't very often she asked you for advise. Especially about her daughter. She was the kind of mother that was stuck in her own ways and refused to hear anyone out.

She rolled her eyes, "Yes. She seems to favor you, why is that? Why does she listen to some servant girl and not her own mother?"

You try to ignore the jab she made at you, "Well, if you're asking me... I think she just wants to be in charge of her own life without someone telling her how to live it..." You advise, still rubbing her shoulders to keep her relaxed.

The Queen of Hearts' eyes narrowed, "In charge of her own life? That's ridiculous. She gets to be a queen, what more could she possibly want?"

"Maybe a mother who will listen to her and let her decide what kind of queen she wants to be?" You felt you were getting a little too risky with what you were saying and you'd anger her but her response was not what you'd expected.

She sighed, holding her hand ontop of yours to signal you to stop massaging her. Her touch was surprisingly gentle and soft, "What would I do without you?" She asked though it was purely rhetorical. "Go speak to her about this," the Queen demanded.

You took her hand and held it, walking around to the front of the chair to look her in the eyes, "Maybe she'd appreciate it better if her mother was the one to go talk to her about it?" You suggest.

She rolled her eyes, but stayed silent. She looked at you as if conflicted about something. Really, she was thinking about how amazing you were. Nothing she felt she could ever say. Your hands were so soft, your voice was sweet, you personality was so caring. How could she not fall for you? You were irresistible.

"Fine." She scoffed, "But it will lead to another argument that you will have to clean up again."

You smile softly, taking the Queen of Hearts' hand and pressing a soft kiss on her knuckles, "I'm always happy to."

[crossguild]

there are a lot of bad takes floating around in op fandom but whitebeard slander is always the worst because oda took such care to craft a narrative in which this ONE character fits every mold of a platonic ideal of a father figure and i'm STILL seeing (thankfully not many) people misinterpret and take him in the worst possible faith and hold him to insane standards to which no other OP character is ever held

"he's sexist because he doesn't allow the women on his crew to fight"

word of god, not canon, also explicitly retconned with the presence of whitey bay on his crew in the oden flashback. there are also women who captain subordinate fleets who were clearly fighting alongside him at marineford. shanks's crew has no women at ALL yet no one ever comes at him about it??

even if it wasn't retconned, he served on the same crew as buckingham stussy, charlotte linlin and gloriosa. man knows women will fucking murder u.

he's very much portrayed as an old-fashioned 'dad' figure and OP's world is one in which sexism still exists. it's misguided but not unexpected for him to insist that his 'daughters' aren't put in even more danger because of his orders because he wants to protect them, but honestly given what we've seen of him if they wanted to fight he could NOT stop them lmao

"why would he raid marineford for ace but not avenge thatch or oden?"

ace is still alive. he didn't raid marineford for vengeance but to preserve a life that can still be saved

thatch and oden are dead and attempting to avenge their deaths would have racked up countless more casualties not just from facing off against kaidou or blackbeard's crew, but because in that big fight, he would be vulnerable to attack from other emperors and also the world government.

kaidou specifically used the raid on marineford to try and attack his flank, and was only stopped because shanks stepped in. wb only took the risk of raiding marineford because he felt that the life of one of his crewmembers was worth it, and he's explicitly pointed out that he would do the same for any other crewmember.

the fact that the navy only ever had the guts to try and execute ace because of his lineage speaks to how serious wb is about that particular threat.

"why didn't he listen to shanks??"

shanks wasn't telling him anything he didn't know. he already tried to stop ace, i don't doubt they've tried to call him back, but ace is also a pirate and whitebeard told shanks to butt out in order to preserve ace's reputation and autonomy. he respected ace's wishes to do what he felt was necessary and then he took responsibility for it on ace's behalf.

ace failed! he fucked up! ace felt ashamed enough, and whitebeard knew that, so he took the blame on himself as his father so that at least in the eyes of the world, it was his own reputation that took a beating and not his son's. i know a lot of people don't recognize that, but it is very much a selfless act of love and care. allowing his kid to make a mistake and then taking responsibility for it and helping him recover from it is the role of a good father

"he's too arrogant and trading on reputation and not actually that strong!"

he maintained order in the new world for 20 years after roger's death. he was a terminally ill dying man whose mere presence stabilized hundreds of islands because people were so afraid of him. he isn't overconfident or arrogant at all, he's more than earned any confidence he displays

he is BOTH trading on reputation AND monstrously powerful, but even he says that he's no longer at his peak and people don't live forever. it's well established that he knew he would probably die at marineford, and given the shrewd choices he made all throughout that battle, it's more than reasonable to assume that he prepared the crew for that possibility

"ace would have been a good captain/ace should have been the captain"

ace got them into that mess. he sure as damn hell would not have been a better captain, nor did he WANT to be a captain. ace never wanted to be captain or find the one piece or whatever, he wanted a family and he found it with whitebeard. ace was doing exactly what he wanted as whitebeard's 2nd division commander and all whitebeard wanted for him was to do what he wanted to, not force him to become PK

ace turned back because he couldn't shrug off an insult to whitebeard, and i'm mad at him for it, but it's also completely understandable why he did that. he's a sympathetic, nuanced, great character exactly because of that.

it takes a LONG time to train up haki, ace obviously wouldn't have had the opportunity to properly learn it when luffy could only manage it because one of the most refined users of haki who had all the time in the world to spend training him took luffy under his wing for two years. how the hell was ace gonna learn haki under whitebeard when whitebeard has 1600+ members to take care of and numerous territories to defend. he was growing at a very reasonable rate, it's not ace's fault nor whitebeard's that luffy's pace is so wildly accelerated

"marco didn't do a good job leading the crew"

they were together for a YEAR after marineford and still mustered the forces to fight a war. the story that circulated is that they attacked teach out of vengeance for whitebeard, but marco explicitly says that they moved on blackbeard because he was invading sphinx/other territories

marco is a careful, thoughtful guy. sphinx looked just fine. we heard the WBPs got scattered, but we didn't hear about any mass casualties and he also did not seem all that torn up about what happened during the payback war. actually, the fact that plenty of them and their allies were still alive and kicking for weevil to attack in the timeskip speaks to them being pretty okay after the payback war, if scattered. there's a lot that's still unrevealed about that conflict and i'm not casting judgment until we find out what

"whitebeard doesn't act like an all-powerful captain and he couldn't control the crew"

he's their dad. a dad doesn't exist to impose his will on his kids and force them to follow the path that he wants them to, his parenting is clearly in the style of 'give them a place to grow and thrive and don't worry about that other stuff, with some ground rules like don't be trafficking drugs or slaves or killing your crewmates'

the operation fell apart because blackbeard betrayed every ideal of whitebeard's and took advantage of his trust and kindness. so it's the betrayal of the ideal of 'family' that hurt them, not a problem in how the crew itself was run. it did, after all, function well-- better than any other operation in the new world-- for several decades.

[therealcocoshady]

If you’re taking requests, could you do one with Marshall and a plus size reader? Maybe how she doesn’t think she’s good enough for him and he makes sure she knows that she’s everything to him?

All of you ❤️

Author’s Note : THANK YOU for requesting this ❤️. As a plus size gal myself, it’s not always easy to identify with a Y/N reader 👀. So I really enjoyed writing this and I identified with the struggle ! I had fun writing this and I hope you will enjoy it. Just so you know, I write for everyone and y’all are free to imagine Reader as a plus size person ❤️

You were in your bed, mindlessly watching Marshall get ready for his day. You had a full two hours before you had to prepare for work and you had no plans of getting up before you absolutely had to. Not when the view was so tempting… On mornings when you woke up together, you enjoyed watching him get ready. He always woke up early, sticking religiously to his routine : shower, get dressed, go back to his place, gym, breakfast, and then work. You usually weren’t too talkative in the morning, enjoying cuddling and simply looking at him instead of speaking actual words. The two of you had such a chemistry that conversation wasn’t really needed most of the time. Marshall had grown accustomed to your silence and, usually, he didn’t speak much either. That morning, however, he took you by surprise.

- By the way, I wanted to ask you something, before I go, he said as was putting his clothes on.

- Mmmh ? You asked, still staring at his ass which was perfectly showcased by his boxers.

- Are you free next weekend ? I have this charity thing, I need a date, he said with a smile.

- What ? You asked confused.

- Quit staring at my ass and start listening, doll, he said playfully.

- No, no, I heard you, you said. You’re not going with Paul ? He usually goes to things with you.

- He’s going to be there, he hummed. But I get to bring a +1.

- And you want me ? You asked with a raised eyebrow.

- Well, what date could be better than the person I’m dating ? He chuckled. Plus, you could meet people, for your foundation.

- Wait… what ? You asked again.

- You should really get an appointment with an ear doctor, he pointed out. I said-

- We’re… dating ? You asked.

He was going to say something but instead, he stared at you with his mouth slightly open and a confused expression on his face. That was new. In the three months you’d been seeing each other, you had never left him speechless, except during sex. You had connected via work. You were a successful entrepreneur who had decided to give back to your community by helping the young women of Detroit through your foundation and had met him at a Charity event sponsored by his very own Marshall Mathers Foundation. You had immediately clicked and had spent the evening glued to each other, talking all this charity and your shared love of Detroit. You had been inseparable ever since and, to be fair, you hadn’t spent a lot of nights apart since you met, but you didn’t really consider that dating. Not that you’d be against it, of course. Marshall was definitely a catch and anyone would be lucky to be his girlfriend, but the notion that he would be willing to date you seemed ridiculous in your eyes. There was attraction and chemistry - that was painfully obvious - but you knew that men like him wouldn’t date women like you. You had been used to this your whole life : men would flirt with you, be willing to fuck you, see you in private, but wouldn’t consider dating you. Perks of being a curvy woman : men fantasizing about your body while being too ashamed to date you publicly. It had once been painful but you were used to it by now. You assumed Marshall was no different. He could have absolutely anyone, why would he want to date you ? You saw it as just a nice friendship and some mind-blowing sex behind closed doors but you didn’t want to get too attached and risk getting hurt. You’d been there, done that, and you were not a teenage fool anymore.

- We’re not ? He finally asked with a raised eyebrow and a sour expression.

- We never talked about it, you said.

- I didn’t think we needed to, he said as he scratched the back of his head. We sleep together nearly every night, I have toiletries in your bathroom and I know your Starbucks order by heart. What do you call that ?

- Casual sex, convenient hygiene and nice morning coffee ?

- Well that’s good to know, he scoffed as he put on his jeans.

Now he seemed pissed. He continued to get dressed in silence, searching for his clothes with his eyebrows furrowed.

- I’m sorry, you said as you got out of bed and walked to him.

- Don’t be, he said dryly. If anything, I’m sorry I assumed there was anything between us.

- No, there is, you said. I just didn’t think… I don’t know…

- What ? He sighed.

- I thought all you wanted was a good time, you shrugged. You know… as in, casually.

- I do recall specifically telling you I like you, he pointed out. And you saying it back.

- It wasn’t, like… in a friendly way ? You asked.

- For fuck’s sake, Y/N, we were both naked in your bed, he scoffed. Or should I be worried you do that with all your friends ?

- I don’t, you said as you blushed. But, you know, it’s not like we ever went on an actual date. I don’t know… I think I misread the situation. I’m sorry.

- Right, he said as he cleared his throat.

You looked at each other in an awkward silence. He put on his tee-shirt and stood close to you. His expression had turned to something hard to read and you were not sure what was on his mind.

- So… what do you think ? He asked.

- About what ? You asked carefully.

- Jesus Christ, you’re not helping me here, he sighed. About this dating thing. Is that something you’d like ? Dating me ?

- Oh, you said with a hint of surprise. Ye-yes. Of course.

- Good, he said with a hint of a smile. That saves me some embarrassment.

- What embarrassment ? You asked with a small smile.

- I might have been referring to you as my girlfriend for a while, he said almost timidly.

You opened your eyes a little wider and almost gasped. Knowing the hottest man you’d ever been with had been referring to you as his girlfriend to other people was definitely surprising to you, who had been kept a secret by so many men in the past. You tried to keep your composure, though your heart sure skipped a beat at the thought that Marshall Mathers was your boyfriend. It felt like learning you’d won the lottery three months ago but had no idea up until now.

- Would have been a shame if you’d had to go back on that statement, you said with a small smile.

- indeed, he chuckled. Imagine their faces if I told them I’d thought wrong all along. They’d make fun of me for the rest of my life and even after.

You both burst out laughing. He smiled and pulled you to him before kissing you lovingly, smiling into the kiss. You leaned into the embrace as he placed his hands on your waist, digging his fingers in your skin through the fabric of your silk nightgown.

- You’re so beautiful in the morning, he whispered. Such a vision. I don’t see that often enough.

- Because I usually stay in bed, you said as you blushed. You always wake up so early…

- Now I’m going to start to force you to get up as early as I do, he said. Because depriving me of this view is criminal. Who looks so stunning in a nightgown, seriously ? That’s ridiculous.

You felt your face turning bright red. He was always so good at telling you how attractive he thought you were and it never failed to make you blush. He kissed you again, more passionately this time.

- I have to go, he whispered. My personal trainer’s waiting for me…

- I could be your personal trainer, you said seductively. I have a little workout in mind…

- You temptress, he groaned. That’s not fair.

You giggled and grabbed his hand in an attempt to lure him back to bed. Now that you were fully awake and energized, there was no reason for you to miss an opportunity to have Marshall pleasure you.

- I really can’t, he said with a frown. See you tonight ?

- Sure, you said with a small pout.

- I’ll make it up to you, he promised.

- You better, you said with a smile.

He kissed you and went on his way, after throwing you a longing glance. You went back to bed and reached for your Satisfyer which, though it was effective, didn’t compare to Marshall.

You had a long and boring day at your office, filled with meetings with shareholders and paperwork. Your company was growing and, though you enjoyed the success and profit, it was a lot of work you didn’t enjoy. You had always thought of yourself as a creative and you weren’t the type to enjoy meetings. You took a small break, taking a much needed respite in your office when your assistant came to find you, bringing a huge bouquet of red roses.

- Nice way of asking for a raise, Natalie, you giggled.

- They’re not from me, boss, she said with a smirk.

She handed the bouquet to you and you grabbed the card that read « Be ready at eight. I’m taking you on an actual date. - Your boyfriend ❤️ ». It brought the biggest smile to your face and you forgot your assistant’s presence for a second.

- Investor trying to woo you ? She asked.

- My boyfriend, you hummed with a smile.

- I… didn’t know you had a boyfriend, she said with a smile. That’s new.

- I’m as surprised as you are, you said with an enigmatic voice.

You felt like a schoolgirl who had a boyfriend for the first time, butterflies in your stomach. Somehow, this renewed your motivation and you went on with your day. You went home and prepared for your date. At 8:00 sharp, you heard a knock on the door and you were greeted by your smiling boyfriend. He took you to dinner in a nice restaurant, and you got to enjoy a nice meal in a private room. It was technically your first date but it was all effortless. You were talking, fingers intertwined.

- Oh by the way, I have something for you, he said as he reached in his pocket.

- What is it ? You asked.

- The invite for the event I told you about this morning, he replied with a smile. There’s a dress code and stuff. I thought you might want to have the information.

- Thanks, you said as you grabbed the paper.

From the looks of it, it was set to be quite the event. Very exclusive, gathering philanthropists… and extremely classy as well. It was black tie, with mandatory tuxedos for men and floor-length gown for women, with a theme as well. According to the invite, there was to be a cultural performance as well as a silent auction, benefitting a Detroit arts institute.

- That’s… something, you said.

- I know you’re just starting out with your foundation, but I think you might meet a lot of like-minded people, he said. In a few months since starting it, you’ve done a great job and I’m sure people would like to contribute. You might also gain publicity.

- There’s going to be press ? You asked nervously.

- Just for the red carpet, he shrugged. But it’s only a couple of photographers, there’s not going to be tons of people either. It’s rather quiet, actually. Focusing on the good deeds instead of the publicity. That’s what’s nice about it. Otherwise, I would just write a check, send Paul and skip the whole thing.

- Ok, you said quietly. Good to know.

- Is there something wrong ? He asked.

- No, no, you said.

- Liar, he said with a grin. What’s wrong, beautiful ?

- Don’t you think it would be more… practical for you to take your assistant ? You asked.

- I could take her, he admitted. But I’d rather take you.

- Ok, you said with a shy smile.

- I know you’re the quiet type, he said as he stroked your hand. It’s just opera, dinner, a silent auction, and it’s for a good cause. Don’t sweat it.

- I… I don’t have a dress, though, you said. To fit the theme.

- Looks like you’re gonna have to shop, he chuckled. And I know it’s not a problem for you. I mean… I’ve seen your closet.

You smiled and agreed to look into it. You put the invite in your bag and went back to enjoying Marshall’s company. After dinner, you went back to your place. You joked about making him wait until the fifth date to « seal the deal » but he reminded you that the it had, indeed, been sealed on the very first night you met. And if the reminder wasn’t enough, his lips against yours and the promise to make you see stars convinced you to let him take you to bed.

In the following days, you were in a state of bliss. In actuality, much didn’t change. You still got to wake up next to Marshall, still shared your nights with him and exchanged sweet texts during the day, as it had been the case ever since you had first met, but it felt different. If you were being honest, you still had trouble believing that this man wanted to date you. You felt like the luckiest woman on earth. However, your good mood was soon ruined by your search of the perfect dress to wear to the event. Not only was it sort of short notice but you also had to face another obstacle : it was a glamorous event and a lot of high fashion brands didn’t cater to « your size ». Money wasn’t a problem but it wasn’t even the issue here : there was no way you could find something to wear, that would quit the theme, be elegant enough and be flattering. Even Natalie, your assistant who was usually able to make magic happen, didn’t manage to find a solution to your problem. You could already see the disaster happen : you’d be the worst dressed person there, and everyone would see how terrible of a match you were for Marshall, who everyone deemed as the most eligible bachelor in Detroit. You knew it was probably stupid to have a meltdown over an outfit but you were brought back to your younger days, when everyone would make fun of your weight and you were told that no one would ever date you. There you were now, a successful entrepreneur, feeling worthless in spite of your many accomplishments. As usual, Marshall joined you in the evening but you failed to put on a happy face and he seemed to pick on it right away.

- What’s up ? He asked.

- Nothing, you mumbled evasively.

- I think I found your one and only flaw, he chuckled. You’re a terrible liar. Tell me what’s wrong. Maybe I can help.

- I doubt you can, you sighed. I just… it’s stupid.

- Is that about the new investors you told me about ? He asked.

- No, you said. It’s about… whatever.

It was so silly, so childish that you were ashamed of telling him that you were feeling self-conscious. You were used to putting on your best foot forward and, most of the time, you felt empowered as a plus size woman. But even the strongest women have their moments of weakness and you were no exception. You looked down, hoping he would drop the subject. Bit much to your dismay, he did not.

- Tell me, he said as he cupped your cheek.

- It’s about the charity thing, you admitted with a sigh.

- What about it ? He asked.

- I can’t find a dress, you explained. I’ve been searching high and low and I can’t find anything. It’ll be a total embarrassment, I can already see it.

- That’s it ? He asked with a smile. You’re just worried about a dress ?

- Whatever, you groaned. I don’t expect you to get it. I just… look, just take someone else. It’ll be better for everyone.

- You’re going to pass on an opportunity to meet people for your foundation and do good because you can’t find a dress you like ? He asked with a frown. That’s… unlike you.

- I’m going to pass on an opportunity to embarrass us both, you snapped. You don’t want to take me. I’d feel like a charity case anyway.

He took your hand and you both sat on the sofa. You were avoiding his gaze. You couldn’t stand to feel his eyes on you. All you wanted was to disappear.

- why is that ? He asked

- Come on, you scoffed. We don’t need to address the elephant in the room.

- What elephant ? He asked again with a confused expression.

- Me ! You almost cried. I-I’m the elephant. Both literally and figuratively. Have you seen me ?

- I have, he said calmly.

- So you see what I’m getting at, don’t you ? You asked with tears in your eyes. Do you really want to take this to that event ?

You gestured at your body. The very one you tried to love but often ended up despising. The one you had been living it for years, that was both your friend and your worst enemy. Tears started streaming down your cheeks and you cried in frustration. Of course you’d never be good enough for him. You were not enough and too much at the same time. Not enough because he was himself, the successful Detroit prodigy, most attractive man on earth in the eyes of many. Too much because there was literally too much of you and your body.

- Of course I want to take you, he said as he squeezed your hand. Why wouldn’t I ?

- Because… you’re you and I’m me ! And people are going to look at us and laugh.

- Why would they laugh ? He asked. Your name is on everyone’s lips in town these days. Everyone constantly talks about your successful company, your amazing charity. There’s nothing to laugh at.

- And no matter how successful I am, I’m always going to be the fat girl, you said. And you’re always going to be Eminem. I have seen the woman you’ve been linked to over the years. They’re gorgeous.

- So are you, he scoffed.

- Come on, you sighed.

- I mean it, Y/N, he said. You are beautiful. I’m proud you agreed to be my date to this thing.

- Really ? You asked.

- Are you kidding me ? Of course I am ! You’re incredible. You’re smart, you’re successful, you’re funny as hell, and you are absolutely stunning.

- No I’m not, you scoffed.

Him calling you stunning seemed absolutely ridiculous and out of place. For God’s sake, he had dated Mariah Carey, as well as countless actresses and models. You couldn’t compete with any of them. He looked at you with an annoyed look and got up before taking your hand and leading you to your bedroom. You both stood in front of the mirror.

- Here, he said softly. Look. What do you see ?

- Marshall, you sighed. I-

- Just answer, he encouraged you. What do you see ?

- You, you replied. You and me.

- I like that sight, he said with a smile. I think we look good together.

- Because you look good, you pointed out.

- Alright, he chuckled as he stepped aside. What do you see now ?

- Me, you groaned.

- And what’s wrong with you ? He asked.

- Everything, you sighed. I’m fat. I’m huge. There’s too much of me. And yet… I’m not enough. Do you want to know why I was surprised the other day ? When you said we were dating ? Because the idea that someone like you might want to date someone who looks like me is ridiculous !

- I like beautiful women, he shrugged. You’re beautiful. You think there’s too much of you ? I can’t get enough. I’ve spend the last three months trying and I just can’t. If anything, I wish there was more.

- You know what I mean, you sighed.

He shook his head and placed himself behind you, hugging you as your back was against his chest. He was looking at you lovingly, adoringly. He took your hand in his and, with the others, he traced your features.

- I love your hair, he whispered in your ear. And your face. You have such a beautiful face-

- The face isn’t the pr-

- Shut up, woman, he said as he pressed a finger to your lips. I’m not done. Your face is amazing. Your eyes, your lips… even your cheeks are adorable. And then, there’s your neck, your shoulders, your breasts… have I told you how much I love them yet ? So beautiful, so generous…

He ran his fingers on your face, your neck and gently cupped your amble bosom, teasing your nipples through your top and bra. Your boobs were so big that his hands could barely contain them but he didn’t seem to mind it one bit. His touch was making you shiver, as well as his soft voice in your ear.

- how can you seriously think there too much of this ? He teased.

- How about the rest ? You mumbled. Definitely too much…

- The rest ? You mean your stomach ? Your hips ? He asked with a smile. I’m fucking obsessed. Your skin is so soft. I fucking love touching you there.

You hummed, biting your lip and shaking your head disapprovingly. He scoffed and made you remove your top, leaving you in your jeans and bra. He gently ran his hands on your stomach, stroking the soft skin that was there, tracing the outline of your waist, digging his fingers in your hips.

- I could do this all day, he whispered. Just touching you, your skin, your curves.

Your gaze met his in the mirror and you were almost bothered by the sheer honesty. You could tell he meant it, every word. His eyes were shining with admiration, adoration even. His hands traveled to your butt, giving it a playful squeeze.

- I could lie and say the jeans make your butt look great but I’ve seen you naked, I know it looks even better without, he whispered.

He buried his face in your neck and unbuttoned your jeans before making them slide of legs. You were left in your underwear and all you could see was the cellulite and stretch marks, the excess of skin. He kept on stroking your skin, whispering sweet words in your ear, saying how he loved your curves, your plushy thighs.

- I wish you would see what I see, he said softly. Then you’d understand how proud I am to be dating you.

- I hate myself, you whispered.

- I guess I can love you for the both of us, he whispered.

You blushed and turned to face him and, before you could say anything, he captured your lips in a passionate, hungry kiss. He bit your lip, causing you to grunt before grabbing your hand and leading you to the en suite bathroom next to your bedroom. You faced another mirror and, before you knew it, he was kneeling in front of you, kissing every inch of your skin, your stomach, your thighs, your hips. You were putty in his hands and opposed no resistance when he made you remove your lingerie, leaving you naked, before going down on you. You were standing up and he was kneeling between your legs, getting to work, worshipping you. He was holding you firmly while his tongue explored your folds, his hands digging in your skin. You were trying to keep your balance, one leg on his shoulder while he was eating you out, like a man who hasn’t had a meal in days and you couldn’t contain your moans. His tongue was soft against your clit while his fingers were teasing your entrance. You held his head against you, begging him to keep going, which didn’t fail to amuse him. He let out a throaty laugh that sent vibrations against your pussy. He inserted two fingers, finding the right angle right away, teasing your g-spot and making you slur a few obscenities. Right when you warned him you were about to come, he stopped and looked.

- Wh-what are you doing ?! You panted. Please, keep going !

- I’m not done with you, yet, he chuckled.

He stood up and kissed you passionately, pulling you close enough so that you’d feel how hard he was, whispering something about how fucking hot and desirable you were. Then, he quickly removed his clothes before having you bend over the counter and taking you from behind.

- Look at you, he directed as he coaxed your face in front of the mirror. So beautiful, taking me so well.

You were faced with your reflection, messy hair and looking flustered, pleasure and excitement giving your face an undeniable glow. You could also see Marshall’s face, twisting in pleasure. Your gazes met in the mirror and he gave you a smirk. He picked up the pace and, next thing you knew, you were crying tears of pleasure, having your first orgasm of many that night. In the final round, the two of you collapsed in bed. Your face was buried against his chest, you were both panting and gasping for air. You were so fucked out that you had trouble forming coherent thoughts but you were feeling fantastic nonetheless.

- It’s crazy, he chuckled after a few minutes.

- What ? You mumbled.

- You’re the sexiest woman on earth and you have no idea, he said before pressing a kiss to your temple. I’m crazy about you. All of you ?

- Are you ? You asked with a yawn.

- I am, he nodded. You know, you could ask anyone in my circle, and they’d tell you I usually don’t fall that hard for anyone. But you… You’re so incredibly beautiful, inside and out. You draw me in. And I’m falling harder for you each day.

You looked at him and squeed before pressing your lips to his. He pulled you closer to him and you closed your eyes, basking in the feeling of his adoration for you. The next day, you had a surprise phone call with a stylist from LA. Apparently, Marshall had missioned them to find the perfect dress for you and they happened to have access to an archive evening gown that fit the theme, previously worn by a gorgeous actress who was your size for the premiere of a movie. The dress was flown in from California and, on the night of the event, you were feeling like a princess. When Marshall picked you up, looking dapper in a tux, he was all smiles, looking at you with excitement.

- Wow, he simply said as he took your hand. You are… wow.

- Thanks to you, you giggled.

- I’m so fucking lucky, he whispered.

- I am, you assured him.

He held your hand during the ride to the event and, as you got ready to step out of the car, you started getting nervous. Glamorous charity events were nothing new and, most of the time, you did well, but you were still wary of other people’s gaze. Marshall seemed to pick on it and brought your hand to his lips.

- How about we skip the red carpet ? You offered.

- Relax, he said with a reassuring smile. You’ve got this. And I’ve got you.

He grabbed your hand and you exited the car. Thankfully, as he had promised, there wasn’t too much press, just a couple of local reporters and photographers. The two of you quietly walked the red carpet hand in hand and you smiled for pictures. You were reaching the end when you stumbled and almost lost your balance. Thankfully, Marshall caught you at the right time and you ended up in an unlikely dip pose, only for the photographers to snap pictures. For a second as he caught you, you lost your gaze in his baby blue eyes. He didn’t smile a lot - not publicly at least - but his eyes sparkled with amusement and you couldn’t help but laugh. Once your balance was restored, he secured a hand on your waist, holding you tight. One could argue it was to make sure you didn’t trip again, though he was holding you like he had just won an award. He stayed glued to your side all evening and, even as people spoke to either one of you, he didn’t break contact. All in all, you had a lovely time, meeting like-minded people, enjoying the opera and dinner. But the thing you enjoyed the most was Marshall’s hand in yours, the way he proudly introduced you as his lady.

When you got home that night, eager to remove your high heels, you met your reflection in the mirror located in the living room. You enjoyed looking and feeling beautiful one last time. As Marshall saw you looking in the mirror. He kept on gazing at you as if you were the world’s 8th wonder.

- Feeling yourself ? He asked with a smirk.

- Maybe a little, you admitted. Thank you for helping me feel beautiful tonight. I enjoyed it.

He hummed and helped you undo the zipper of the dress before you disappeared in your closet, putting on something comfier. When you reappeared, wearing silk pajamas, he was already in bed, only wearing his boxers. As soon as he saw you, he smiled.

- There it is, you giggled softly. Princess moment is over ! Not too disappointed ?

- Are you kidding me ? He asked as he pullled you in for an embrace. You’re even more beautiful in these than in the dress.

- Right, you scoffed with a headshake.

- No, really, he shrugged. You’re gorgeous in an evening dress but you in your pajamas… that’s the version of you I’m in love with.

Your heart missed a beat and, for a second, you could have sworn the world had stopped turning.

- You… you’re in love with me ?! You asked in shock.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Stranger 8

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Destroyer!Chris

Summary: A stranger buys the farmstead nearby and disturbs your sleepy village life.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

As Chris’ shadow lingers around the house, you find yourself restless. You can’t stay there. Especially not with your grandmother’s ranting and raving. She’s found your best dresses and wants to know which one to fix up. You leave her without an answer.

“You don’t needa bother with these on our date…” his words ring in your ears, nipping at the nape of your neck.

You set off to town, staying off the main roads, instead picking through the brush and the old trodden pathways amidst the trees. At first you have no destination but as the sun rises and the day casts down, your lack of sleep creases beneath your eyes.

It’s still early. There aren’t many people out. You have a little change in your purse, enough for a tea. You enter the cafe, sweat speckled along your hairline and trickling beneath your cotton shirt.

You wait your turn and step aside as your drink is prepared. Your eyes fall on the cafe owner as she speaks with an older pair of women; one you know as well as anyone. Frigga Odinson. In the back of your mind, you know you shouldn’t listen but you latch onto the distraction from your dire thoughts.

As you do, the door opens and closes with a jingle. You glance over and your chest knots. Not him. You turn your head straight and try to look like you didn’t see him. You focus on the conversation ahead of you.

The women talk about a party. The owner agrees to cater then turns back to her work. You hear her asking another employee for help. You wonder if…

You step up, hoping to make yourself look busy in hope that he won’t bother you. You’re order is called and give a small wave as you approach.

“Um, sorry, er, to eavesdrop,” your voice shakes, caught in your throat. The woman leans in and you try to speak a little louder, “if you need some help, I could do some… stuff.”

“Oh, uh…” she sputters in surprise. Right, you don’t really have a prodigious resume.

“Just for the night?” You frown, “sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“No, no, that’s nice,” she says gently, “you live with your grandmother, right? Up behind the ridge.”

You cringe, you suppose that’s how people would know you. “Yeah, we could use the money,” you confess.

“Sure, not many jobs to go around in Hammer Ford,” she say empathetically, “can you be here for one?”

“Uh,” your eyes round as you sense a shift. You glance over at Chris and find his gaze fixed on you. “Yeah, i’ll be here,” you quaver, “thank you so much.”

You turn back to her and find a stone in her eyes, slightly narrowed as she tilts her head, “you know what, we have a special on, how about you sit and have a scone?”

“Um…” you look down at the cup.

“You got a far way back, you should enjoy your latte,” she says as her eyes flit over towards the register.

“Okay,” you surrender uncertainly. If you leave, you’ll be all alone.

“You go sit down and I’ll bring you the scone,” she smiles. “If you stick around, we can chat a bit about tomorrow when it slows down.”

“Oh, yeah,” your heart flutters, “makes sense. Thank you so much.”

You take your cup and turn, nearly walking into someone else. You find your way to the corner and sit in a haze. Wow, you think you might have got yourself a job. Grandma will be so happy and maybe, just maybe, it’ll be a good excuse to get away from him.

You peek up at Chris as he stands at the counter. The owner hands him his coffee, her eyes narrowed at him. You can’t see his face as his back is to you. He takes a step back, caught in the woman’s glare. Do they know each other?

He leaves without a glance at you. You let out a sigh of relief but quickly choke on it as you watch him through the window. He tosses the full cup into the dirt and stomps on. He wasn’t there for coffee.

🍏

You stand in the kitchens of the Odinson B&B. It’s the economic life force of Hammer Ford, owned by the old wealth that founded the township. You peer around in awe of the sparkling silver utensils hung from racks against the wall and pots and pans that dangle from hooks. 

The hotel is lively once more with the noise of the gathering hordes. It’s a party, the cafe owner explained, and you’ll be heating up the food to serve. The low thrum has yet to reach a tantamount as you await your orders. You don’t do well with crowds, you only hope she doesn’t send you out there.

You stand quietly to the side as the cafe owner talks to Thor, the host of the get together. You’re not paying attention as your ears garble. When there’s too much going on, all sounds seem to blend together.

“Anyhoo,” he booms, “it is my party, I can’t be hiding by the ovens all night.”

Before you can react, he grabs your shoulders and kisses your cheek. You don’t react, terrified of the golden child of the first family of Hammer Ford. Katherine, another helper, sighs as she receives the same.

“He’s… loud,” you utter, trying to shake off the tinge of his touch.

“And so handsome,” Katherine babbles.

“Alright,” the cafe owner ignores your chagrin, “we have to get this plated. And trays in the oven.”

You’re eager and set to task. You need the distraction. You hadn’t been prepared for the chaos of the event and it’s only getting started. Music suddenly blasts from the other side of the wall and you steady your hands before you grab a tray from the cart.

“If you get your work done, you can go out there,” the owner says in exasperation as Katherine squees. You’ll be happy enough to stay back here.

[danlous]

As much as i dislike the whole narrow and oversimplified love language theory it explains so much about the problems and miscommunication at the de Pointe du Lac-de Lioncourt household if you consider that they speak different love languages. Aside from their 32958394577 other issues of course.

Louis is quite clearly a ‘quality time’ and ‘acts of service’ type of person. He often feels uncomfortable with overt gestures and believes that actions speak louder than words and the way he shows love is rather practical. Providing for and taking care of his loved ones and spending time with them is very important for him. He’s not outwardly very affectionate towards others but he makes a great effort to help his family and sometimes also the community (and he tries to justify to himself his exploitation of women by insisting that he’s actually protecting and helping them). With Paul they spent a lot of time just doing things together like walking and talking and going to church and dancing. In the beginning with Lestat they bond over music and theatre and arts and Louis talks and opens up to him about things like never before other than with his brother. Later we see him pause reading (his favorite hobby) to listen to what Lestat is saying to him and even at his most depressed he tries to share with Lestat what he’s reading. In modern day he remembers a dessert that was emotionally meaningful for Daniel and has it prepared in an attempt to connect with him through it (and eats himself despite that it tastes awful to him!).

He frequently does things he feel uncomfortable doing to please Lestat (going to opera with him despite having to act as his valet, drinking human blood, having sex with him after finding out he’s cheating again etc.). Becoming a father and taking care of Claudia was something that brought great fulfillment to Louis (”the simple joy of her hand in mine”). He enjoys ‘homemaking’ whether that’s decorating christmas trees or doing his child’s hair and he was at his happiest when the vampire family was living as close to normal everyday family life as possible, and later tries to unsuccessfully return to that status quo. The most important way for him to communicate love with other people is to simply choose to share his life with them. Lestat who expects dramatic romantic words and gestures could never understand the greatest love Louis ever showed was to stay with him despite everything.

Lestat is strongly a ‘words of affirmation, ‘physical touch’ and ‘gift giving’ type of person. He encourages and compliments Louis and tells him he loves him all the time. I think the scene in ep 6 where he mouths ‘i love you’ when walking away from the park bench despite nothing special happening implies that it’s something he tells Louis almost every day. Verbally expressing his emotions is very important for Lestat. He obviously carefully rehearsed his church love confession beforehand and later even literally wrote a song for Louis. Lestat who is deeply insecure needs words of love and reassurance but rarely receives them. When Louis does show verbal affection he just soaks it up like a sponge (”you missed me?”). Lestat is very tactile person and to quote Sam Reid can’t keep his hands off Louis. When they’re together he’s rarely not touching him. Louis is significantly less touchy-feely, he allows Lestat to touch him if they’re not fighting but initiates it himself much less frequently. When they’re not having sex frequently Lestat feels unhappy and abandoned, not just because of his high libido but also because for him sex is an essential way to convey intimacy and connection. This is also shown in his pattern of cheating where despite claiming he likes variety he actually mostly just carries out a years long affair with one person despite finding her tedious, because she offers him constant validation and an illusion of intimacy. He was rather physically and verbally affectionate with Claudia too before the things turned sour, sometimes gently touching her and calling her with pet names.

Lestat, like Louis, loves taking care of his loved ones but he’s more focused on actual providing and giving things. Lestat showers both Louis and Claudia with gifts; clothes, jewelry, books, money. When Louis is worrying about going home and his business after being turned Lestat tells him “this is now your home” and “i have all the money we need”; he has obviously already envisioned the future he will take care of all Louis’ needs and Louis will never have to work again or worry about anything or pay for anything anymore because Lestat is happy to buy and give him everything in the world. He calls vampirism a gift as well and is frustrated when Louis and Claudia are not grateful for receiving it. After the DV incident he tries to literally buy himself back into their life and sends so many gifts that they have to burn more of them than bodies. He whines to Antoinette about how ungrateful and disrespectful Claudia is despite that he’s given her ‘so many incalculable gifts’. Roots of this behaviour are in Lestat having lived most of his human life in poverty and having to act as a provider. Even after years of being rich he values material things and considers giving and receiving them a powerful act of love and loyalty. Louis had not experienced similar poverty and hunger while being human and Claudia who as a human had nothing i think just sees through bullshit. I think despite their different backgrounds Claudia is actually fairly similar to Louis in this regard that they value more practical and straightforward everyday love. Claudia nurses Louis back to health and makes it her mission to save him, and while she loves pretty things as an expression of love they mean nothing to her.

[izvmimi]

a/n: part of cursed!reader series of drabbles. sfw.

"y'know, it'd be nice to be loved like that," you muse as you follow nanami into the subway station. it's almost 3am, and both of you have sobered up a bit, knowing that satoru and his partner are probably stumbling into one of their apartments' drunk in their own right. you think for a moment that perhaps you should have actually explicitly made sure they made their own way safe, but you're pretty sure even piss drunk gojo can protect him and your friend.

nanami looks tired as usual, but he has a content smile on his face. you wonder if he heard you speak as you sit by him.

"oi, are you even listening to me?"

nanami turns his attention to you, a gentle flush of red on his sharp cheekbones letting you know that he probably is a little more drunk than you expected. it must be nice - you're often careful because you're a chatty drunk, and waking up after blacking out with multiple senses stolen from you is probably not ideal.

"always," he says. you raise an eyebrow. the train doors close and you start moving.

it's a strange answer from him but you allow it.

you sigh, stretching your legs out in front of you. there's just a singular man in the front part of your subway car, and he looks nonthreatening so you lose interest quickly. not much is there to look at, and when you look back at your friend, kento is peering at you through his glasses.

"what part of it do you like?" he asks. he chuckles, and you feel like you're being teased.

"i didn't say i liked it."

"you literally just said 'it would be nice.'"

heat rushes to your cheeks, but then you bite your lip and decide to own it.

"you know what, yes! i'm tired of being single. why would i want to be going halfsies on a tiny apartment with a sourpuss like you when a man should be appreciating my charm and treating me like a queen?"

it's nanami's turn to raise an eyebrow.

"do you think you deserve better?" he asks. you make a show of gasping in shock.

"why i never-"

nanami laughs louder this time and crosses his arms over his chest leaning back into the plastic covered seat. any time he laughs this much you're filled with an odd feeling, dread because he's probably making fun of you, or confusion... perhaps jealousy? you don't think you're that funny, but he doesn't seem to find anyone else as amusing. you hate that.

his hand rests on the top of your head suddenly and you kick him gently in the ankle.

"i deserve it," you remind him. you try to keep your eye contact fierce, making sure he doesn't patronize you; he lets his hand drop back to his side but continues to give you a pretend bemused look.

"perhaps."

breathing out through your nose, you decide you'll get him where it hurts.

"are you gonna pretend you're not bitter that your love life sucks?" you ask. he peers again at you sideways, then grins.

"i try not to think about it too much," he replies, promptly.

his ankles cross, and you consider kicking him again but the second time might actually hurt and you don't actually intend to hurt him. you purse your lips to the side and avert your attention instead. the shadows in the subway station start to hypnotize you the longer you focus on them, then you realize you are kind of sleepy. one of you has to stay awake to make it home safely, so you decide to return to antagonism.

"are you still pining over women who are inaccessible?"

nanami's eyes have closed shut by now but they open again.

"whatever do you mean?" he hasn't turned to look at you yet, and you're looking for the tick in his jaw that suggests annoyance but there's nothing yet.

"i told you to stop falling for lesbians, remember?" you tease him.

nanami gives you a look that lasts a bit too long, and for a moment you wonder if you've actually wounded him. you breathe in sharply and you're preparing to say the words, "sorry" but then he interrupts you quickly with the following,

"are you a lesbian?"

the question catches you off guard in the slight inebriation of hours after karaoke, where trot and enka play on loop and the taste of overpriced sushi swallowed not on your dime still ghosts on your tongue.

you would ask, "what's that supposed to mean?" but it's clear. kento's leaned into you and the train is slowing to a stop. you think your heart might slow to a stop too. he must be joking with you.

"i think you're too drunk, you're not making any sense." you finally say through your teeth, but the fact that you're suddenly flustered is apparent in the waver in your voice. kento snorts but it's soft and accommodating, not petulant.

the overhead PA tells you to unboard and kento moves first, getting to his feet but looks back at you and catches you as you stumble on heels too high for just karaoke and meeting with your closest friends.

your hand is in his and he lets go once you're steady.

you thank him but he can't steady your heart too.

[imaginethezeldaverse]

Hi… I’m a fan of ur blog…. C-Can we get another Ganondorf NSFW alphabet for the letters B, F, J, K, O, and U?

Ohoho, absolutely! I'd be happy to give you some more nsfw Ganondorf headcanons, x reader style of course. Reader will be gender neutral c: NSFW Alphabet referenced here.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) Something about his personality and how he carries himself tells me that Ganondorf loves his hands the most. He's a master weapons specialist, a lot of strength and dexterity are in those fingers. But not only that, he knows very well how to navigate the body. Whether it be for pleasure, pain, or healing, Ganondorf's speaks volumes in everything he does with his hands. For you, it's your eyes. There's a lot of things that lips may not say, but it's always reflected in the eyes and he knows this. Ganondorf wants to be able to see exactly what he wants out of you in your eyes. Sometimes that's fear, sometimes it's love. You're at your most vulnerable behind your eyes and Ganondorf wants to see everything.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) Now listen, I know doggy style would normally be the obvious choice because of the sheer sense of dominance it gives - but I actually think he would be most fond of missionary (with your legs wrapped around his waist). This gives him the ability to really press his full weight onto your body - allowing you to feel all of him: how deep he is inside you and how pinned you are under him (a reminder of how strong and sturdy he is as well). You're pliable this way - he can reach any part of your body he wants his mouth on with ease, or even pin your hands should he wish to really have you submit to him. J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) Does not do it often. He might if he's really wound up and needs to take off the edge that badly, but he would much rather just bury himself inside you. K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) In line with him being restrained, I do believe he would be into femdom (or really just being dommed in general). While he is no stranger to domming you himself, he's an equal opportunity lover. Being raised by strong women as well has allowed for him to appreciate the power that they hold and that submitting to your partner who likes to take the lead is always worth exploring. Ganondorf thoroughly enjoys the power being in your hands - forcing him to go down on you or having him under you while while you slide down his cock and don't allow him to touch your body. It's undeniably thrilling for him. O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) Very 50/50. He thrives off of the way your hot mouth wraps around his cock, so much so that he'll growl and groan and let you know exactly how much he's enjoying you suck him off to the best of your ability. But he also very much takes pleasure in watching your come undone on his tongue. Every stroke, lick and suck between your legs is hellbent on making you cum. Being that you're most likely with him at the stage of his life where he reigns Chief of the Gerudo, he's already had time to gain experience on oral matters - so you're in for a treat because he knows exactly what he's doing. U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) ABSOLUTE MENACE. His ability to restrain himself from giving you the pleasure you seek in full is torturous. He knows what points on your body get you to writhe and moan, but he's also well aware of how lightly to touch you there, barely being able to feel it and causing you to desperately want more. Whether it's gently circling the pads of his fingers around your nipples, kissing you featherlight on your neck or ghosting his fingertips over your aching sex, this man knows what makes you weak. If he needs information from you or just wants to rile you up for the fuck of it - be prepared because he will make a mess of you just yet.

[thebroccolination]

SO ABOUT KRIST. \:D/

I'm not sure how many people have seen this photo or know the context behind it.

It was taken by a fan (see watermark) at the final episode premiere for Be My Favorite in August. After we finished watching the episode, Krist and Gawin walked down the aisles of the theater singing their duet, and then they went to the front stage to give their closing speeches. Most of us expected Krist to cry because it doesn't take a lot to make that happen on a normal day. But a fan event for a series that he put his heart and soul into? That he had resting on his shoulders since it was announced in late 2021? Certified, guaranteed, written in stone.

Even expecting it, though, didn't prepare me for seeing Krist cry in person. Especially when it wasn't the crying I'm used to seeing from him. I didn't even need to understand what he was saying to feel affected by it. Being in the theater, hearing him struggle to speak, assuming what he must be talking about, hearing how absolutely earnest every word was, that was enough.

I read the translation later. Krist was talking about Gawin. That he's always wanted the focus of the series to be on Gawin, because it was Gawin's first main role, and Krist felt like he'd taint it. In the past six months, Krist has said more than once that his greatest achievement from Be My Favorite was meeting Gawin. In another interview, he said he didn't care if no one watched the series because he has Gawin in his life now, and that means more to him than the success of his work. He said meeting Gawin changed him and made him grow up.

I always knew that Krist would be good for Gawin's career. From the moment I saw the casting announcement, I knew that Krist would do what he does with all of his friends and colleagues: promote him, hype him, celebrate him. I just had no idea how close they would become. That they would both find strength in each other, and that they would develop the incredibly close friendship they have now.

And, man…ever since I saw that photo up there where Gawin is listening with tears in his eyes as his close friend and admired senior talks about him with such affection and respect, my disappointment in everyone who continues to spread misinformed hate against Krist is so much deeper.

But it's also calmer.

Because it won't last.

Krist is so widely loved by the people in his life and the people he's worked with, and he's so effusively loving in return. And I think more and more people are starting to see that. He cares so intensely all the time and he allows so much of his vulnerability to show, and he listens to people.

So whenever I see people scoffing, "How does he even have fans?" I know they haven't actually looked into who he is. I know they watched a TikTok or a YouTube video with the same five things taken out of context and it just doesn't hold up when you actually see him.

Because this is who he is:

At MUSICON, he and Gawin did a meet and greet, and this fan shared her experience talking to Krist. She had so much she wanted to say, but she couldn't stop crying, and he patted her gently on the shoulder to comfort her. She said he kept kindly looking into her eyes while she spoke, and she finished by hoping more and more people get to know him.

He's one of GMMTV's top stars who makes eye contact with his fans and engages with them. He's popular enough that he could just coast during these fan events, but he wants to listen and interact with his fans. He remembers us.

And, like, I already did a whole thing about how he's not homophobic.

Like, seriously, he isn't. During his solo concert in Cambodia, he made a beeline to this fanboy and giddily danced with him the same as he did with the women in the audience. And he wasn't the only guy he danced with, either.

Krist also got hit on in an airport by a whole European dude years ago and he was delighted. The dimple came out to play and everything.

There comes a point when people who say "he's just pretending he isn't homophobic to make money" start to sound like they just really, really want Krist to be homophobic because otherwise they have been mercilessly tormenting him for years over misinformation they didn't care enough to look into.

The man described his love scene with Gawin in Be My Favorite as a piece of art. Like. I think it's abundantly clear that he's not the monster interfans invented just to throw knives at.

So anyway.

Back to Gawin.

I'm glad Krist has Gawin in his life. Gawin who sees him, who appreciates him, and who gives back just as much affection as Krist gives to him.

And who honest-to-God looks like he wants to protect Krist just as much as any of us do.

So yeah!

I like Krist.

I think he's neat. \:D/

(And I totally hope he'll let Gawin and Singto do a skit making light of all the ship wars during his concert next weekend. GawinSingto jokes, come to me.)

[duchessofostergotlands]

Do you think you could be autistic? No hate just wondered as I am too and I relate to a lot of what you say

Oh my anonymous friend, you don't know the can of worms you have opened haha. I am going to ramble here so just be prepared for that.

When I was little my mum did actually think I might be autistic. Predominantly because I played in an unusual way. I would line my toys up on the window sill and my grandmother's display cabinet thing. I would get furious at people if they moved my toys because they all had their own spot. And the only time I touched the toys was to move them from the cabinet (their home) to the window (the school). The rest of the time I would just stand still, stare at the toys, and wiggle my fingers. They called it "zizzing" - now it's called stimming, I guess - and they knew that was a sign of autism so my mum and my grandmother did wonder about it. But I had two things going against me: I was a girl and I was born in the early 90s. This was during the peak of the idea autism was the "extreme male brain." It was seen as being predominantly a male diagnosis. You probably know that. And there wasn't much understanding so our reference point would be people like our family friend who always looked at the ground, was obsessed with trains, had limited speech and would scream if anyone tried to touch him. Whereas while my family were still thinking about the autism thing I started school and I was academically strong, I had a small group of close friends and at the time - because of the gender disparity - girls only really got diagnosed with autism if they had some kind of very obvious speech delay, they weren't doing well at school, they had no social connections with their peers at all etc. So basically everyone just forgot about it. I got called a drama queen a lot, that was it.

Fast forward to my teens and my mental health was really bad. It got worse at university because I didn't have the routine and structure of school, I didn't have my mum cooking and buying food etc. I was diagnosed initially with depression and anxiety. After a while it was clear that wasn't right so after much fighting I got a diagnosis for Borderline Personality Disorder. Now you may know this but there is an overlap in BPD and autism symptoms and women are often misdiagnosed with BPD later in life because as children their autism wasn't picked up (because diagnostic criteria is still geared towards how it presents in boys and psychologists and psychiatrists don't always delve into motivations and thought processes). I found that out in my mid 20s but thought "nah I probably don't have it, I don't have special interests and I don't struggle with x, y and z." However, my mum became really interested in BPD after I was diagnosed and did loads of research, listened to podcasts on it. And she told she was listening to one podcast where someone was diagnosed with BPD but then they discovered it was actually autism. My mum said to me that the way she described herself in childhood was exactly how I behaved, as if I'd been the one speaking. And so that got me thinking and that's where I have been stuck over the last few years. I debate with myself constantly what's going on in my brain and I truly don't know. I regularly have epiphanies where I think "oh that thing I've done all my life is incredibly autistic." But then I think maybe it's actually BPD. And I just go round and round.

I identify as neurodivergent, regardless of what diagnosis I have. Some neurodivergence paradigms do recognise severe mental illnesses like BPD anyway, but I've realised that if you put aside the BPD I still have chronic problems with ordinary tasks and situations. And I used to think it was just because I was young but I'm 31, almost 32, and it isn't normal to take 3 months to make one phone call because you just can't make yourself do it! Most people don't find it this hard to take basic care of themselves.

[deathsbestgirl]

wanna hear all you have to say about fire / phoebe <3

oh mikaela, i hope you're prepared <3 (some of this is more well thought out than other parts, tbh the longer i watched the harder it got to put my thoughts into words because phoebe is truly maddening — like you said about scully, phoebe is bad enough for me. i didn't need them to go as far as they did with diana. i get it !!!)

phoebe’s first scene hits pretty hard. because just before she enters, mulder & scully were talking about court, scully was teasing him “must be an x file” and his face is just SO CUTE because as much as they tease each other, i just don't think he's used to it yet. and scully always does it so affectionately (no other motive than she likes him & teasing him is fun)

and it's just. he's so sure he locked the car. he doesn't understand how scully was able to open it and then scully sees the tape. before we even meet her, we see how she invaded his space. breaking into his car to play a cruel “joke” to ask for his help (that's just not how you ask for help, these are adults, they're professionals — i'm so mad about it). phoebe opens the door right on time, so she's also nearby watching so she can get the timing right. it's creepy & calculated. like scully was scared, the way she gasps & jumps. cruel.

i really don't know how to put this into words but “aren’t you going to thank me? …[for] saving your life” haunts me. she does this terrible thing she knows would frighten him (and anyone else he's with...) and then tries to make it look like a favor to him. like he's lucky to have learned this lesson, that she's waltzing back into his life — with a puzzle, people for him to help, a case that we’ll learn soon is all about one of his biggest fears.

and then he talks about her driving a stake through him and she sees that as the perfect opportunity to kiss him (i am not a fan of kissing someone to shut them up, no matter the context. let them speak bitch). waits for scully to exit the car, so she can witness phoebe stake her claim on him. a kiss he doesn't return, but doesn't exactly reject either. after, he tries to move forward, introducing the two women. phoebe immediately tries to set scully against them, against her. “she hates me.” it's an attempt to isolate him and make him more vulnerable to her tactics.

what really hurts is the way it kind of works. he lets scully stick around for learning all about the case, talks to her about phoebe a little, and then tries to protect her — when she isn't the one who needs protecting. but he knows phoebe's games. she will try to drive a wedge between them. she's already started with “she hates me” — it's belittling scully. creating a fake scenario of scully vs her. she's dismissive, acts like she forgets scully is there listening to everything she says. (the way scully always observes him, follows his lead — it's special, and it helps her figure out how to navigate the situations they find themselves in. this is no exception.) phoebe tries so hard to make it just her & mulder, and he falls right into that trap.

there's just something so distasteful about bringing up a private joke in the company of others who aren't in on it. again, staking her claim and another way to push mulder & scully apart, to isolate mulder, cut off his relationships & resources so they can go back to where they left off.

scully sees so much. she was obviously put off by their introduction, but had mulder’s response to phoebe been different, more receptive, happy, excited… she may have been able to look past her distaste. the way he becomes practically docile, which is very unlike mulder except in situations with people who have hurt him, taken advantage of him, neglected or abused him… scully understands exactly what's happening. here, she doesn't even say anything yet. she comments on his behavior, but the only thing she actually says about phoebe is he won't be able to get rid of her just by taking the case to their arson guys. they both know he isn't walking away having done nothing for the case, for phoebe. they both know her motives aren't simply the case. (and god, it could have been so easy for phoebe to be genuine. asking mulder for help because she know he can solve the case. respectfully, professionally. it could have been easy enough to swallow that she's a woman in a male dominated field and uses her ‘feminine wiles’ to get what she needs. but it isn't just that at all. phoebe knows the effect she has on mulder and uses it. it's twisted. someone who has grown would not continue to act this way.)

[i talked about “mulder, you just keep unfolding like a flower” (with welsharcher’s tags) here]

the comparison beatty makes of the case & phoebe:

this is so sick actually. and scully is observing all of it, keeping herself on the outside.

something here about scully making sherlock & watson theirs <3

and oh god the rest of this scene!! this is what i mean about mulder “protecting” scully. the way he shares this … is a lot.

scully asks and mulder answers. one of my favorite things about them. they don't tend to just volunteer information, even to each other, without some kind of prompt. scully gives him the space to talk about it, never says too much but she says enough. her phrasing is SO important. she repeats what he just told her in a way that frames it as wrong and then mulder makes the same comparison beatty did, of phoebe to fire. but in the negative way we're meant to understand.

it's a little maddening that he's so aware. she was brilliant, he got in over his head, her mind games (manipulation, cruelty, forcing him to face things instead of letting him do it in his own time) and it’s a perfect contrast to scully. she’s the opposite of scully in every way. where phoebe is fire, scully is ice. where phoebe is cruel, she's so kind & gentle & supportive. where phoebe is manipulative, scully is supportive — literally so supportive, constantly throwing him a lifeline, making sure he knows he doesn't have to do it alone but (mostly) respecting his choice.

she lets him face is demons, but she’s going to continue working the case. because they're partners, and she can tell they're not going to get very far.

also. everyone should read kae's posts about fire/phoebe. they are the best ones:

fire script

scully is not jealous with kae's tags

scully knows phoebe is Awful

and bonus: i did one of my episode posts lol (genuinely don't remember it oops)

[piratefishmama]

Live to Serve (You) | Part 3

Not a single soul in the palace would ever claim to feel calm whenever the Queen cornered them. Mainly because it didn’t happen very often. But two weeks after the Princes’ sixteenth birthday celebration, the Queen grabbed him.

Not physically of course, she simply intercepted him on his way to Steve’s room in the early hours and redirected him to her study.

“Sit, Edward.” She instructed, since he found himself standing awkwardly by her ornate desk, the woman motioning to the chair opposite her. She was still the only person in that palace who referred to him by his given name, it always made him feel like he was in trouble.

He sat. “Is there something the matter, your highness? Steve is—”

“Steven is now sixteen years old, listen Edward... My husband has already disclosed his desires to have his son grow up into a young man.” She said the words with such a powerful roll of her eyes that Eddie actually felt relief surge through him. This wasn’t about him. He hadn’t done anything wrong, but then a new unease built, it was about Steve. “I’m sure you know what that means?”

“I’m...sorry, no?” He did, he knew what it meant. But that didn’t mean he wanted to think about it.

“I think you do, you’re not a simpleton, are you Edward?”

Eddie released a suffering sigh and nodded his head “I know what you refer to, alcohol, women, hunting, etcetera?”

“Exactly. What do you think about the first two?” She leaned back in her chair, not at all a dignified pose for a queen but... behind closed doors the Queen always seemed a little more down to Earth than her Husband.

“...I have no opinion on the—”

“Edward.” Her eyes hard. Right.

“I think it’s a terrible idea to rush it. Steve is fine the way he is. He will make an incredible King as is, alcohol and women are not the key ingredients to ruling successfully, he already is all that he ever needs to be.” Steve was perfect at his core, beautiful both inside and out, he didn’t need to ‘become a man’ he was already a better one than his father and had been for as long as Eddie knew him. “I know it’s inevitable though. Steve is a Prince, and with that status comes responsibilities.” He’d need to marry, would need an heir, experience with women would only increase his prospects of finding a good match for himself, would only increase the chances of him being able to make her happy, whomever the lucky woman may be.

“And how do you feel about that inevitability?”

“...How do I feel?”

“Edward, you wake my son up every morning, you’re the first and last person he sees each day, and it’s been that way for a very long time now. You know that eventually another will be in his bed with him when you go to wake him, right?”

“...I’m prepared for that.”

“Speaking from experience, Edward... no-one, not a single soul in this world, will ever be prepared to see the person they love in bed with someone else.” Eddie felt his blood run cold, eyes widening in alarm, she didn’t pay his panic any mind, continuing, “it ruins you a little, hurts in a way you didn’t think hurt could.”

“Forgive me, but... why are you telling me this?”

“You’re the most important person in my sons life, Edward. You are his best friend, undoubtedly someone he cares very deeply for, perhaps even in the same way you care for him...” no, Eddie wouldn’t even dare to assume that. He couldn’t, he couldn’t let that thought in less hope manage to worm its way in alongside it. It would already hurt enough as a one-sided love, the thought of what could have been would destroy him if he knew it were possible. “All I ask is that, when this eventuality comes, that you do not blame him for the pain you feel from it. He needs you more than you can possibly imagine, it would hurt him to lose you.”

“I’d never blame him for doing his duty, no matter how much it hurts. He’s a Prince, I’m a servant, even if that status difference didn’t exist I’m not foolish to believe anything could come of it, we are both men.”

“Oh, don’t be silly, Edward, half of the men at court fool around with other men, they simply don’t talk about it in public, my foolish husband included. Obviously that stays between us.” Eddie wordlessly nodded, wide eyed. “Just... keep what I said in mind, okay? I don’t know when the King intends to start his little scheme, but I didn’t want you to be blindsided by it, it would pain me to see you hurt, you’re practically part of the family at this point.”

“The thread count of my bedsheets would disagree.” It just slipped out, he couldn’t stop it, but strangely enough the Queen laughed before the dread could set in, before he could rush through an apology.

Ok. Maybe the Queen wasn’t that bad.

She was also correct. Nothing on Earth could have prepared him for that morning, the morning following Steve’s return from a hunting trip the King had dragged him on after his eighteenth birthday. A return that’d been celebrated with a small but enjoyable feast, they’d hosted the families of the lords that’d hunted with the King and his son, the food a mixture of things they’d brought back from their hunt, it seemed like such a normal feast.

Even Steve charming a few of the young ladies wasn’t particularly new, all the eighteen-year-old needed to do was smile in their general direction and the ladies swooned.

Eddie had even managed to snag a lute to play the Prince a little song off in the corner, it was normal.

Until it wasn’t.

Until Steve had been snagged by his father, Until he’d mysteriously vamoosed from the party, the Queen telling him Steve had retired early when he’d enquired, an expression on her face that Eddie tried really hard to not think too hard about.

He should have gone to Steve’s room, should have stuck by him all night, should have done something, even if it wasn’t his place to intervene, even if it’d never be his place to intervene, he should have known to be selfish for one single night, as that one single night was just the nudge needed to create a gods be damned monster.

And he had no idea how much it hurt to see it.

Steve had no idea how painful it was to walk into his room the morning after, go to wake him only to find a young woman fast asleep beside the prince in Eddie’s usual spot, his neck littered in little bruising marks. So Eddie kept that conversation with the Queen in mind, repeated it like a mantra over and over in his mind as he busied himself around the room, picking up clothes, quietly fixing ornaments and trinkets knocked over in whatever passions had occurred, and he picked out suitable attire for the Prince, all before he realised that he had to accept that his long-standing morning routine would now have to change as the young lady in that bed wasn’t going to spontaneously disappear as fast as she’d appeared.

Steve had his duties, Steve was a Prince, Steve cared about him, needed him, whatever happened would never change that.

But some things would have to change. Eddie would have to change them to protect himself.

And so, that morning, Steve awoke abruptly for the first time since he was seven years old to blinding sunlight when Eddie pulled the curtains open without warning, a curtly spoken, “Breakfast is waiting, your highness” as his morning greeting, and the brief visage of Eddie’s back when the spots of sunlight in his eyes finally cleared, leaving the room, and him behind.

Part 5

[averysexyleon]

Twenty Four

RE8 | Wintersberg | Romance, Slow Burn | Action, Sci-Fi

Sequel of Winters and the Beast, a Resident Evil: Village Story

Table Of Contents

Ethan didn’t move much from the bed the next day, and the others stayed true to their word and kept him company.  Rose and Karl made him a very messy breakfast-in-bed, with more than a few fingerprints in the pancakes, and coffee with at least six ounces of sugar in it.  Rose seemed to understand her father’s mood, laying her little head on his chest and patting him reassuringly.  But soon she was too restless for the room, so Karl suggested she accompany him with rebuilding a carburetor.  She was ecstatic at this suggestion, for some reason.    

Conversation flowed casually between the women, and he was content to listen even if he didn’t understand most of their language.  Some big sewing project was happening between them, and he didn’t understand anything about that either.  Ethan felt a heavy weight on his chest; closing his eyes meant he saw the night’s events over and over.  He pondered as the comforting sound of the language cushioned him from darker emotions, allowing him to think. 

Was it his fault?  Should they not have taunted Miranda?  He didn’t blame Karl now, for the man’s earlier hesitancy toward her.  The fear stricken look he’d given when she approached him during Eva’s ceremony.  But a tiny voice whispered in Ethan’s head that it was better this way….Mia was better off not existing, than existing in a prison.  

Hadn’t she always, though?  A self-imposed prison, but a prison nonetheless.  

He could not deny that often, Mia seemed unhappy.  As if she were playing domestic, not actually being domestic.  She was jealous when he trained with Chris, annoyed when he brought up time at the shooting range, or his self defense classes.  Mia may have never wanted the life that they had together, and may not have known how to break that to him, he realized.  She'd probably even tried, and he'd argued over her. 

Considering all of this brought up a well of emotion he could not confront.  Ethan had finally understood months ago, when he tossed away their wedding rings, that the betrayal was too much, her lies were too much.  He had intended to move forward as a single father.  He had still envisioned them speaking, though.  Raising Rose as co-parents.  Making mutual decisions for her care.  Maybe one day, years from now when the hurt went away....talking it over.  Seeing how love had made them blind to their issues.  Making peace. 

Now he saw the futility, even the wild ridiculousness of that idea.  The world he’d existed in before seemed like the dream-not this world.  This world made sense with all its strangeness and ever-present mystery, while the other world was no more real than the shows that the girls were eager to show Donna.  Some fantasy, where two normal humans did normal human things like raising a daughter after divorce.  He had traded one fantasy for another, had moved from one denial of truth to another.  

When it came time to prepare food, he finally had time alone to shower and get dressed while the others contemplated a feast.  Food healed–Maricara was adamant, and Ethan didn’t dare argue. Donna promised to return after she too got dressed and ready for the day, and Ethan plodded rather pathetically into the large bathroom.  

Water didn’t warm him, being clean didn’t perk him up.  Fresh clothes meant nothing.  Brushing his teeth was a chore.  Ethan did a double-take in the mirror; had his reflection….moved?  Had it been looking at him?  Were his eyes black again?  With a shaky hand, he put the toothbrush back in its place and stared at the mirror.  Normal.  Nothing off.  Maybe he’d imagined it. 

Just to be sure, Ethan blinked to a place he no longer had reason to linger in–the liminal space, the thin veil between the Mold’s catalogued world, and the real world.  The place where he’d first met Eva, and likely the place he visited in his dreams.  

The room around him was glitchy, full of bloom, saturated in unnatural golden light.  Everything blurred. But there in the mirror he stood, looking….different.  Hollow.  Dead?  The reflection did move, tilting its head at him.  What was he seeing?  

He heard his own voice, laced with another.  A feminine voice.  It had to be Miranda.  

There’s another way.  

“What?”  Had anyone walked in and witnessed him talking to himself, he would have looked insane. 

Don’t resignate yourself to feeling this pain.  

“I don’t have a choice,” he grumbled, unsettled by the unmoving, blank stare of the reflection.  Was this his inner voice?  Was it Miranda’s influence?  Who was looking back at him?  It was him, without a doubt.  

Pain is weakness.  Do not give in.  You are more than human. 

He closed his eyes abruptly, hearing the threads of many voices echoing the words, as if in agreement.  Ethan splashed water from the sink onto his face and looked again; he was back in reality, back to seeing a shocked and pale version of his face.  Trembling lips, bloodshot eyes, tear-stained cheeks, hair that hadn’t been styled properly in days.  But at least he didn’t look…well….evil.  

Ethan knew what Eva would say–it was a defense mechanism of the Mold, learning human patterns of thinking, it was Miranda, overriding the natural order of things….it was something he could ignore, and he was the noble human she always scolded him about.  But it seemed to him like a warning, a conviction to continue trying to…what was he trying to do?  Grieve?  He had to change.  He had to do something that the Ethan in the mirror wouldn't do. 

So he returned to the bed, shivering under the blankets, staring at the wall, wondering what it was to be not-stubborn.  Not Ethan. 

Donna returned with the opportunity.  Her hair was in a long braid still, but it was brushed, and her face was fresh.  She wore to no one’s surprise, a black dress, and as she prepared to take her seat by the foot of the bed, Ethan spoke.  

“Donna.” 

Her wide brown eyes caught his; she always looked so easily startled.  When her hand moved toward her brow, to cover it, he held out a hand and gestured.  “Sit with me?”

A rosy blush crept across her cheeks, and she tried to stutter a reply, but he coaxed, “No funny stuff, I promise.”  When she hesitantly moved toward him, he explained, “I figure we both could use a hug right now.” 

So she settled next to him on the bed, first stiff and terrified; he could hear her heartbeat thrumming like a mouse’s.  How could such a delicate person be so capable of creating such horrors? All thanks to Miranda, and what she forced on her subjects.  The lords may have had it better than the villagers, but he was learning only minimally so. 

Donna was shorter than he, and fit into the crook of his arm easily.  Ethan hugged her with hesitation, gentleness (the opposite of the way he and Karl embraced) and she soon relaxed, burying her face into his chest and laying one slender arm across his torso.  

Everything was quiet for a few minutes.  Then she tried, with a voice full of fear, “I’m sorry about your wife.” 

“Wasn’t the first time,” he exhaled, staring at the ceiling.  “Hopefully it’s the last.” 

“I understand.  Death should never be a cycle.  It should be finite.” 

He felt a pang of empathy, hugged her more tightly.  

“I guess you’ve dealt with it a lot,” he said, feeling stupid at the obviousness of this sentence.  But she seemed to appreciate the simple exchange.

“Far too much.  I feel as if I know more of death than life.” 

“...How do you feel about living?  Do you want to be back?”  He was hovering away from the eventual conversation, the one they’d have to have about her possibility of dying.  Well, according to Godric, all they had to do to prevent that was revive Moreau, which seemed backward if Ethan was being generous.  But having never embraced death, or even accepted it, he wanted to hear her thoughts. 

“I fear it beyond reason, and desire it, terribly, so much that it hurts.”  She had a way with words.  Maybe it was all the poems that she liked.  “Like Heisenberg, with love.”  

He chuckled.  In a sardonic tone, with raised eyebrows, he asked, “You really think Karl desires love?”

“I have known him for a long time,” she reminded Ethan.  “He has always been clumsy, too loud, too angry.  One kind word and he would light up like the sun.  One hurtful word and he was shut down, inconsolable.  One of the village elder men called him a terrible name once, because Karl did not like trapping animals for fur.  He said fur was meant for them, not for us.  After the elder ridiculed him, Karl disappeared for a month, no one saw him.  The elder’s metal traps disappeared from the forests, and every new one he would buy, ended up a warped piece of metal overnight.  He could not even sell the scrap, no one wanted it.”  Both Ethan and Donna were chuckling at this.  “He gave up, and never had a clue the effect of his words.  But yes,” she sighed.  “I do think he wants love.”  

“And you want life,” Ethan nodded.  “I can see how both of those are scary.  Never saw it that way before…but I sure can now.” 

“What about you, Ethan?  What is it you want, and fear?”

“You’re not gonna hold me hostage in your basement again if I tell you, are you?”

She actually giggled at this, and he continued, “I don’t know if it’s a want, but…I think I need, to learn when to…to let go, maybe.  How to let go.”  

More silence.  

“I would have never ended up in Dulvey if I’d just…forwarded Mia’s message to authorities.  Let them handle it.  But I took it so personally that she would just disappear, I wanted to hear it from her.  It’s stupid.  I don’t regret trying to help her, or Zoe, once I was there, but…I just…dig in and won’t let go, of anything.  Mia wanted to break up after Dulvey.  I argued against it.  She wasn’t sure about having a baby, when she found out she was pregnant.  I argued about that, too.”

“I can see why Karl likes you,” Donna murmured with the hint of a smile in her voice.  “You’re stubborn.”  

“I can’t let go,” he repeated.  “When I love something, I just…can’t lose it.  How did you manage, how did you go on, after losing your family?” 

“I didn’t, when Miranda ruled the village,” she admitted quietly.  “She kept us all in a state of…worry, fear, of losing her instead.  I could not process my loss, I was stuck in a horrible nightmare, which I put others through as well.  But now?  Heisenberg says we all have an animal inside. It is as you said, “letting go.” In my grief, the animal has awoken.  I have felt very much like an animal lately… Heisenberg also says it will pass, I will come back as a whole person.  What do you think?”

“I think I’ve ignored the nightmare, to get through it, and…I don’t really know how to be an animal.  To let go.”  

“Crying a lot helps,” she said cheerfully, and they both laughed.  

Eva entered the room, a bright smile on her face as she heard the laughter, and Ethan saw the cause of her dancing footsteps when he glanced in her hands. 

“Someone is thinking of you, Ethan,” she said in a singsong voice, and he stared at the patera.  It was full of wine. 

“Is that…did you…?”

“It was like this on the nightstand,” she said, her eyebrows lifting impossibly high.  She giggled, and held out the bowl with an expectant gaze.  Ethan sat up uncertainly and peered into the dish.  Dark purplish-hued liquid, thick.  It smelled like berries, burned wood, cold earth.  Donna shrank away from it.  

“Would you uh, wanna….?”  He felt as though they were closer now, close enough to invite to whatever the hell this was, but Donna was still wide-eyed, fearful.  

“You go ahead,” Donna nodded, slinking away from the bed and moving back to her chair.  “I think I will spend some time contemplating my animal, and letting go.” 

Ethan met her eyes and this time she looked slightly braver, held his gaze for slightly longer, before smiling and looking down.  Eva was nearly buzzing, bouncing on her toes as she awaited to partake in the libation.  Ethan had a pretty good idea of what, or who, drinking it would lead to.  

“Cheers,” he sighed, holding the bowl.  

[childofchrist1983]

Therefore prophesy and say unto them, Thus saith the Lord GOD; Behold, O my people, I will open your graves, and cause you to come up out of your graves, and bring you into the land of Israel. And ye shall know that I am the LORD, when I have opened your graves, O my people, and brought you up out of your graves, And shall put my spirit in you, and ye shall live, and I shall place you in your own land: then shall ye know that I the Lord have spoken it, and performed it, saith the LORD. Ezekiel 37:12-14 KJV

The promise – Israel will be restored! Can you imagine how the exiles must have rejoiced at the promise? They will come out of the grave of the exile and come alive in their own lands. God will put His Holy Spirit within them so that they may live renewed, obedient to the Law of Moses.

One of the most profound writings that supports their renewed Spirit comes when Ezra the Scribe reads from the Book of the Law before all the men, women and children old enough to understand listen for hours and actually cry when they hear it. The Israelites feel dead. They have lost so much more than their homes; they have lost their friends, their livelihood; some have lost parents and children; and they have lost their personal freedom as well as their freedom to practice their religion. I hope that none of you, who are reading this have experienced any of these issues, but realistically, I know that some of you may have suffered some or all of these problems.

There are so many parts of the world where people are threatened every day with loss of freedom to live as they should be able to live. Many people exile themselves and look for sanctuary – A place where they have freedom to practice their faith; freedom from fear; freedom to raise their children with proper water, food and medical care. Just as those who were exiled in Babylon, it must seem as though God had abandoned them, for those who live in fear, it must seem that God has abandoned them as well. I wish there were a prophet today who could bring hope that things will change, but we do know and hang on to the conviction that God will never abandon us even if freedom comes after we have lived this life. God sent Ezekiel to bring hope to the exiles in Babylon, and He sent His only begotten Son, Jesus Christ, to give all of us hope by letting us know that this world is not the end, that He has so much more planned for us. For this, we are eternally grateful. May He help us remain on His righteous path, walking in His Holy Spirit and obedient to Him and His instructions - Always!

With renewed minds and wills, let us serve Him humbly and faithfully out of pure love and grateful rejoicing. May He remind us of His presence and to remain at peace, fully knowing that all will be well because He is always with us. Let us seek Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ today and everyday with all our heart and being, looking for His love, light and will for our lives with each step we take. Let us seek to please Him with our thoughts, words, and deeds and seek to advance His Kingdom of Heaven and His glory with our lives. Let us seek Him from a pure and humble heart, and when we so seek, we believe Him and His promise that we will find. May He help us all to be more sensitive to the teaching ministry of His Holy Word and Spirit, relying on Him and allowing Him to speak to us and guide us every step of our Christian journey.

God gave us the Holy Bible - His living and Holy Word - to let us know of Him and His abiding love and care as well as guide and prepare us for all our lives. May He help us encourage one another as we continue our walk with Him and our duty to Him daily. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for being present for all our new beginnings and all our lives. May He redirect any anxiety we feel as He provides countless opportunities for growth and change. May we humble ourselves before God always, asking Him to forgive our sins and make our hearts and lives anew through His Holy Word and Spirit. May He help us make Him and His Holy Word top priority, so we can grow spiritually and grow in our relationship with Him as we apply it to our daily lives. Thank God that we can focus on Him and everything about Him, for that is what keeps us sane and at peace. May our words and actions always be a reflection of Him and His Holy Word and Spirit and will.

Everyday, we must remember to thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for the grace that He poured out for us on the cross at Calvary. He has freed us from the burdens of sin and guilt. May He help us to always walk in His grace and Holy Spirit, not by our own measure. May He give us the humble humility to know that our freedom and eternal salvation is found only in Him, so that His grace may sustain us, and we may never lose sight of His love and light and mercy. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for calling us to Him and to serve Him. May He equip us to do all that He has called us to do so that as He works through us, He may use us to produce fruit, to reach others, and to encourage all brothers and sisters in Christ. May He work all of these things in us and through us for His Kingdom and His glory. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for all His creation, for His miraculous ways and for everything He does and has done for us! Keep the faith and keep moving forward in your walk with Jesus! He loves us and He knows what is best for us. Seek, follow and trust in Him - Always!

Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for His Holy Word and for sending His Holy Spirit so that we might have His grace, not only to awaken us and transform our hearts in our spiritual rebirth and guarantee our eternity with Him, but to also call upon Him whenever we are in need. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for all the reminders of His love and mercy and faithfulness within His Holy Word. He is bigger than any challenge or circumstance in our lives. Knowing this within our minds and our hearts, nothing can deter our faith in Him and His Truth. May we all accept Him and His eternal gift of salvation and ask that He would transform our hearts and lives according to His will and ways. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for His Holy Spirit who saves, seals and leads us. May we always thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for His almighty power and saving grace. For He is our strength, and He alone is able to save us, forgive our sins and gift us eternal salvation and entry into His Kingdom of Heaven.

May we make sure that we give our hearts and lives to God and take time to seek and praise Him and share His Truth with the world daily. May the LORD our God and Father in Heaven help us to stay diligent and obedient and help us to guard our hearts in Him and His Holy Word daily. May He help us to remain faithful and full of excitement to do our duty to Him and for His glorious return and our reunion in Heaven as well as all that awaits us there. May we never forget to thank the LORD our God and our Creator and Father in Heaven for all this and everything He does and has done for us! May we never forget who He is, nor forget who we are in Christ and that God is always with us! What a mighty God we serve! What a Savior this is! What a wonderful LORD, God, Savior and King we have in Jesus Christ! What a loving Father we have found in Almighty God! What a wonderful God we serve! His will be done!

Thanks and glory be to God! Blessed be the name of the LORD! Hallelujah and Amen!

[female-malice]

With her feet rooted on the ground and her voice steady, Colette Pichon Battle seems to be the type of person most of us would want nearby in a crisis. When she speaks about climate change displacing millions, she uses measured words to describe strategies to dismantle structural racism, build alliances in community, and provide legal services for equitable disaster recovery. As I listen to her TED Talk, I’m reminded of a cheer from my high school in coastal Alabama: “Rock, rock, rock, rock, steady, eddy, eddy, eddy, rock! Rock steady.” So I wasn’t surprised to learn she describes her superpower as “seeing patterns in chaos,” an apt skill for the organization she founded, the Gulf Coast Center for Law and Policy, now called Taproot Earth.

Working on the frontlines of climate disasters caused by hurricanes, sea level rise, and fossil fuel companies, she knows that recovery for industries has been quick, and recovery for communities has been slow. From Houston, Texas, to Pensacola, Florida, her work brings climate change to the community level, especially with women at the heart of neighborhoods and households.

“We found that the folks most willing to get to know each other were actually women,” she said in an interview with Reimagine. “When women talk about their communities, it’s sort of like women talking about their children . . . So a lot of the moral fabric and the moral movement of a family and of a community is done through the women.”

She and her staff used a meeting format called the People’s Movement Assembly, which involved Black, Latina, and Asian American women learning about each other’s lives and agreeing to reach a vision together. From there, groups of women followed through on actions, such as talking about the climate crisis and extractive industries with elected officials in Louisiana who needed the vote from people of color.

In Bayou Liberty, just north of New Orleans, Colette grew up in the house built by her grandfather, where her mother was born. There, water was a way of life: “The bayou is green and lush and all the things that equal bountiful life,” she told TED Radio, “But it is also watery and muddy. You can smell everything.”

She remembers the names of particular hurricanes along the Gulf Coast, much as I did growing up in Alabama. During the eye of the storm, family members would get into flat-bottomed boats called pirogues to check on neighbors before retreating to safety inside while the other band of the hurricane passed. But the water became unrecognizable given the severity of Hurricane Katrina. As an adult, Colette practiced law in Washington, DC, but after the destruction of Katrina, she vowed never to leave her beloved Gulf Coast again.

When she first saw the Louisiana flood maps at a community meeting, Colette says her life changed. The maps explained how the thirty-foot surge from Hurricane Katrina could flood her community as well as those in Mississippi and Alabama. She realized the land lost from sea level rise was the buffer to her own home—a buffer predicted to disappear. “I wasn’t alone at the front of the room,” she explained. “I was standing there with other members of south Louisiana’s communities—Black, Native, poor. We thought we were just bound by temporary disaster recovery, but we found that we were now bound by the impossible task of ensuring that our communities would not be erased by sea level rise due to climate change.

“I just assumed it would always be there. Land, trees, marsh, bayou. I just assumed it would be there as it had been for thousands of years,” she said. “I was wrong.” Knowing climate is predicted to displace more than 200 million people by the next century, Colette advocates for preparing for global migration by restructuring social and economic systems rooted in justice, such as investing in public hospitals before the impact of climate migration or additional storms like Hurricane Ida. It’s not like we don’t know what is coming, and Colette knows preparation is a life-and-death matter.

“Climate change is not the problem,” she said. “Climate change is the most horrible symptom of an economic system that has been built for a few to extract every precious value out of this planet and its people, from our natural resources to the fruits of our human labor.”

What holds clear and steady is her belief of what can be done now. “It’s already possible, y’all,” she often tells people, with the practical sense of someone who can get things done. Colette knows women who have the most to lose from climate disasters also know what it’ll take to plan for the future and anticipate the storm.

Reprinted with permission from Love Your Mother: 50 States, 50 Stories, and 50 Women United for Climate Justice by Mallory McDuff © 2023.

[sojourner-between-worlds]

Do tell about John Piper! I don’t know much about him other than that Calvinists like him.

OKAY SO. Yeah, he's like the chief of 5-Point Calvinist Theologians. Really the only reason I've read much from him is because a friend (who shall remain nameless unless she chooses otherwise) was having huge issues reading his stuff and was asking me about stuff he'd written and if I agreed with it. I'm, like, a solid 3.5 Calvinist, myself, but that doesn't help me like him honestly, lol.

For the record: Sometimes he says good and helpful things. Sometimes I agree with him. Sometimes. Not that long ago he answered a question about how much jewelry is appropriate for women to wear. Given the title, I was very prepared to be absolutely incensed by his answer, but after reading it...sometimes the dude just needs to work on his titles because I did actually agree with this answer. (Which, if you wondered, he said there's nothing wrong with wearing jewelry; the title came from the question that was asked, which was very misleading.)

All that being said, he also sometimes says really stupid things -- and I'm not talking about things I disagree with from a theological (tenets of Calvinism) prospective. After all, we can still learn a lot by listening to or reading things from people we don't agree with. Rather, sometimes he makes it very clear he does not understand that not all brains work the same way, aka being neurodivergent.

I made that meme quite a while ago in response to a question he received from someone wanting to know how to encourage their autistic Christian friend. One thing he said in response was that the person should not use Scriptures like Psalm 139: 13-16 (the infamous "fearfully and wonderfully made" verses). His reasoning? That applies to everyone, even the most terrible people in the world, like Hitler. Therefore, it is not encouraging to hear that.

So let me tell you a little story about why that advice makes me so upset:

Back when I had just figured out I'm autistic, for some reason or another the #actuallyautistic tag here on tumblr was -once again- talking a whole lot about a ten-year-old ad from Autism Speaks titled "I am Autism" and how horrendous it is (and how we should never let them forget about it when they tried to bury it, which I agree, but that's another rant about how terrible AS is and why no one should support them). Curiosity got the better of me and I looked it up on YouTube. I couldn't even process it the first time. I was so shocked. So I watched it a second time, and then promptly broke down sobbing. (A friend of mine could only stomach watching about the first 30 seconds of it before she turned it off. That should tell you everything right there.) I had never felt so dehumanized in my entire life, and you wanna know what brought me comfort after watching that? Reading Psalm 139, particularly the above verses.

The thing Piper doesn't understand is this: the rest of the world is busy telling us that we're "put together wrong" or that we're "broken" and no one is telling us that's not true. Sometimes when we're struggling it's nice to hear someone remind us that we were created exactly as God intended us to be. (Another good passage, fyi, is Moses and the burning bush, where Moses says he's not good at speaking and God's rebuttal is "is it not I who created the blind and the deaf the way they are?" Yeah. That's a piece of my pastor's sermon from two years ago that still sticks with me, thank-you-very-much.)

That is why it makes me angry. Because people will follow his advice and start not telling us something that we need to hear simply because it's not something he has ever taken comfort in so apparently he cannot fathom anyone else taking comfort in it either.

I'm sure there are probably other articles he's written or answers he's given that have also gotten my goat, but the other big thing that gets me is his recently published book where he asserts that if you don't feel affection towards God then you aren't saved.

On the one hand, I do get his point: having a head-knowledge that God is real and the Bible is true is NOT the same as having saving faith.

But I have two problems with Piper's take on this: 1. Many ND folks (not all, of course, but I am in this category) don't experience emotions or feelings the same way as every one else. Which means affection -- especially the way Piper seems to be describing in his book -- can be a bit of a foreign concept. Speaking solely for myself, I do not feel affection -- at least not in the way you are supposedly supposed to, according to Piper. Having a head-knowledge of the Bible does not equal having faith but here's a crazy ND concept that escapes Piper: sometimes head-knowledge IS affection. I don't spend time on things I don't care about. I don't do deep-dives into topics on things I don't care about. I don't spend time on things that don't bring me joy. The knowledge I have shows where my affections lie, even if I don't experience affection as a feeling, the way Piper says you have to. 2. Affection does not equal love, and love is more important here. As an example: I love my husband very much. I don't always like him (sometimes he drives me nuts, that's just life, and I know I drive him nuts too, haha), but I do always love him. Comparatively, according to Piper, if I don't always feel affection (aka "like") my husband then I must not actually love him. And this is simply not true. Affection is a feeling; love is an action. I don't have to feel any one certain way in order to still love someone -- and that includes God.

I've said it once and I'll willingly say it as many times I have to: we can't rely on our feelings for assurance of salvation because (say it with me now!):

Feelings are Fickle.

And with this book, Piper has made salvation about feelings. So even from a neurotypical perspective, this book is a bad take. But it's even worse for ND folks who simply don't experience feelings the way NTs do. People are going to read this book and start thinking, "well, there's no way I'm saved because I don't feel the RIGHT way, the CORRECT way, the way PIPER is telling me I have to." And I don't think I need to explain further why that's damaging.

And these are just my personal gripes. Other ND friends (specifically the first one I mentioned) have all kinds of troubles reading his stuff, because of terrible wording or answers that aren't thorough enough or conflicting information from what he's said in the past compared to now.

He is, at best, a sincere but incredibly insensitive writer. But it doesn't matter how sincere he is because someone can be very sincerely damaging to other believers.

And someday he's going to have to answer for that.

[thelightningthatjumpsbetween]

Twenty Four

RE8 | Wintersberg | Romance, Slow Burn | Action, Sci-Fi

Sequel of Winters and the Beast, a Resident Evil: Village Story

Table Of Contents

Ethan didn’t move much from the bed the next day, and the others stayed true to their word and kept him company.  Rose and Karl made him a very messy breakfast-in-bed, with more than a few fingerprints in the pancakes, and coffee with at least six ounces of sugar in it.  Rose seemed to understand her father’s mood, laying her little head on his chest and patting him reassuringly.  But soon she was too restless for the room, so Karl suggested she accompany him with rebuilding a carburetor.  She was ecstatic at this suggestion, for some reason.    

Conversation flowed casually between the women, and he was content to listen even if he didn’t understand most of their language.  Some big sewing project was happening between them, and he didn’t understand anything about that either.  Ethan felt a heavy weight on his chest; closing his eyes meant he saw the night’s events over and over.  He pondered as the comforting sound of the language cushioned him from darker emotions, allowing him to think. 

Was it his fault?  Should they not have taunted Miranda?  He didn’t blame Karl now, for the man’s earlier hesitancy toward her.  The fear stricken look he’d given when she approached him during Eva’s ceremony.  But a tiny voice whispered in Ethan’s head that it was better this way….Mia was better off not existing, than existing in a prison.  

Hadn’t she always, though?  A self-imposed prison, but a prison nonetheless.  

He could not deny that often, Mia seemed unhappy.  As if she were playing domestic, not actually being domestic.  She was jealous when he trained with Chris, annoyed when he brought up time at the shooting range, or his self defense classes.  Mia may have never wanted the life that they had together, and may not have known how to break that to him, he realized.  She'd probably even tried, and he'd argued over her. 

Considering all of this brought up a well of emotion he could not confront.  Ethan had finally understood months ago, when he tossed away their wedding rings, that the betrayal was too much, her lies were too much.  He had intended to move forward as a single father.  He had still envisioned them speaking, though.  Raising Rose as co-parents.  Making mutual decisions for her care.  Maybe one day, years from now when the hurt went away....talking it over.  Seeing how love had made them blind to their issues.  Making peace. 

Now he saw the futility, even the wild ridiculousness of that idea.  The world he’d existed in before seemed like the dream-not this world.  This world made sense with all its strangeness and ever-present mystery, while the other world was no more real than the shows that the girls were eager to show Donna.  Some fantasy, where two normal humans did normal human things like raising a daughter after divorce.  He had traded one fantasy for another, had moved from one denial of truth to another.  

When it came time to prepare food, he finally had time alone to shower and get dressed while the others contemplated a feast.  Food healed–Maricara was adamant, and Ethan didn’t dare argue. Donna promised to return after she too got dressed and ready for the day, and Ethan plodded rather pathetically into the large bathroom.  

Water didn’t warm him, being clean didn’t perk him up.  Fresh clothes meant nothing.  Brushing his teeth was a chore.  Ethan did a double-take in the mirror; had his reflection….moved?  Had it been looking at him?  Were his eyes black again?  With a shaky hand, he put the toothbrush back in its place and stared at the mirror.  Normal.  Nothing off.  Maybe he’d imagined it. 

Just to be sure, Ethan blinked to a place he no longer had reason to linger in–the liminal space, the thin veil between the Mold’s catalogued world, and the real world.  The place where he’d first met Eva, and likely the place he visited in his dreams.  

The room around him was glitchy, full of bloom, saturated in unnatural golden light.  Everything blurred. But there in the mirror he stood, looking….different.  Hollow.  Dead?  The reflection did move, tilting its head at him.  What was he seeing?  

He heard his own voice, laced with another.  A feminine voice.  It had to be Miranda.  

There’s another way.  

“What?”  Had anyone walked in and witnessed him talking to himself, he would have looked insane. 

Don’t resignate yourself to feeling this pain.  

“I don’t have a choice,” he grumbled, unsettled by the unmoving, blank stare of the reflection.  Was this his inner voice?  Was it Miranda’s influence?  Who was looking back at him?  It was him, without a doubt.  

Pain is weakness.  Do not give in.  You are more than human. 

He closed his eyes abruptly, hearing the threads of many voices echoing the words, as if in agreement.  Ethan splashed water from the sink onto his face and looked again; he was back in reality, back to seeing a shocked and pale version of his face.  Trembling lips, bloodshot eyes, tear-stained cheeks, hair that hadn’t been styled properly in days.  But at least he didn’t look…well….evil.  

Ethan knew what Eva would say–it was a defense mechanism of the Mold, learning human patterns of thinking, it was Miranda, overriding the natural order of things….it was something he could ignore, and he was the noble human she always scolded him about.  But it seemed to him like a warning, a conviction to continue trying to…what was he trying to do?  Grieve?  He had to change.  He had to do something that the Ethan in the mirror wouldn't do. 

So he returned to the bed, shivering under the blankets, staring at the wall, wondering what it was to be not-stubborn.  Not Ethan. 

Donna returned with the opportunity.  Her hair was in a long braid still, but it was brushed, and her face was fresh.  She wore to no one’s surprise, a black dress, and as she prepared to take her seat by the foot of the bed, Ethan spoke.  

“Donna.” 

Her wide brown eyes caught his; she always looked so easily startled.  When her hand moved toward her brow, to cover it, he held out a hand and gestured.  “Sit with me?”

A rosy blush crept across her cheeks, and she tried to stutter a reply, but he coaxed, “No funny stuff, I promise.”  When she hesitantly moved toward him, he explained, “I figure we both could use a hug right now.” 

So she settled next to him on the bed, first stiff and terrified; he could hear her heartbeat thrumming like a mouse’s.  How could such a delicate person be so capable of creating such horrors? All thanks to Miranda, and what she forced on her subjects.  The lords may have had it better than the villagers, but he was learning only minimally so. 

Donna was shorter than he, and fit into the crook of his arm easily.  Ethan hugged her with hesitation, gentleness (the opposite of the way he and Karl embraced) and she soon relaxed, burying her face into his chest and laying one slender arm across his torso.  

Everything was quiet for a few minutes.  Then she tried, with a voice full of fear, “I’m sorry about your wife.” 

“Wasn’t the first time,” he exhaled, staring at the ceiling.  “Hopefully it’s the last.” 

“I understand.  Death should never be a cycle.  It should be finite.” 

He felt a pang of empathy, hugged her more tightly.  

“I guess you’ve dealt with it a lot,” he said, feeling stupid at the obviousness of this sentence.  But she seemed to appreciate the simple exchange.

“Far too much.  I feel as if I know more of death than life.” 

“...How do you feel about living?  Do you want to be back?”  He was hovering away from the eventual conversation, the one they’d have to have about her possibility of dying.  Well, according to Godric, all they had to do to prevent that was revive Moreau, which seemed backward if Ethan was being generous.  But having never embraced death, or even accepted it, he wanted to hear her thoughts. 

“I fear it beyond reason, and desire it, terribly, so much that it hurts.”  She had a way with words.  Maybe it was all the poems that she liked.  “Like Heisenberg, with love.”  

He chuckled.  In a sardonic tone, with raised eyebrows, he asked, “You really think Karl desires love?”

“I have known him for a long time,” she reminded Ethan.  “He has always been clumsy, too loud, too angry.  One kind word and he would light up like the sun.  One hurtful word and he was shut down, inconsolable.  One of the village elder men called him a terrible name once, because Karl did not like trapping animals for fur.  He said fur was meant for them, not for us.  After the elder ridiculed him, Karl disappeared for a month, no one saw him.  The elder’s metal traps disappeared from the forests, and every new one he would buy, ended up a warped piece of metal overnight.  He could not even sell the scrap, no one wanted it.”  Both Ethan and Donna were chuckling at this.  “He gave up, and never had a clue the effect of his words.  But yes,” she sighed.  “I do think he wants love.”  

“And you want life,” Ethan nodded.  “I can see how both of those are scary.  Never saw it that way before…but I sure can now.” 

“What about you, Ethan?  What is it you want, and fear?”

“You’re not gonna hold me hostage in your basement again if I tell you, are you?”

She actually giggled at this, and he continued, “I don’t know if it’s a want, but…I think I need, to learn when to…to let go, maybe.  How to let go.”  

More silence.  

“I would have never ended up in Dulvey if I’d just…forwarded Mia’s message to authorities.  Let them handle it.  But I took it so personally that she would just disappear, I wanted to hear it from her.  It’s stupid.  I don’t regret trying to help her, or Zoe, once I was there, but…I just…dig in and won’t let go, of anything.  Mia wanted to break up after Dulvey.  I argued against it.  She wasn’t sure about having a baby, when she found out she was pregnant.  I argued about that, too.”

“I can see why Karl likes you,” Donna murmured with the hint of a smile in her voice.  “You’re stubborn.”  

“I can’t let go,” he repeated.  “When I love something, I just…can’t lose it.  How did you manage, how did you go on, after losing your family?” 

“I didn’t, when Miranda ruled the village,” she admitted quietly.  “She kept us all in a state of…worry, fear, of losing her instead.  I could not process my loss, I was stuck in a horrible nightmare, which I put others through as well.  But now?  Heisenberg says we all have an animal inside. It is as you said, “letting go.” In my grief, the animal has awoken.  I have felt very much like an animal lately… Heisenberg also says it will pass, I will come back as a whole person.  What do you think?”

“I think I’ve ignored the nightmare, to get through it, and…I don’t really know how to be an animal.  To let go.”  

“Crying a lot helps,” she said cheerfully, and they both laughed.  

Eva entered the room, a bright smile on her face as she heard the laughter, and Ethan saw the cause of her dancing footsteps when he glanced in her hands. 

“Someone is thinking of you, Ethan,” she said in a singsong voice, and he stared at the patera.  It was full of wine. 

“Is that…did you…?”

“It was like this on the nightstand,” she said, her eyebrows lifting impossibly high.  She giggled, and held out the bowl with an expectant gaze.  Ethan sat up uncertainly and peered into the dish.  Dark purplish-hued liquid, thick.  It smelled like berries, burned wood, cold earth.  Donna shrank away from it.  

“Would you uh, wanna….?”  He felt as though they were closer now, close enough to invite to whatever the hell this was, but Donna was still wide-eyed, fearful.  

“You go ahead,” Donna nodded, slinking away from the bed and moving back to her chair.  “I think I will spend some time contemplating my animal, and letting go.” 

Ethan met her eyes and this time she looked slightly braver, held his gaze for slightly longer, before smiling and looking down.  Eva was nearly buzzing, bouncing on her toes as she awaited to partake in the libation.  Ethan had a pretty good idea of what, or who, drinking it would lead to.  

“Cheers,” he sighed, holding the bowl.