#because it’s all subjective people could come up with two equally right but opposing answers

[babsvibes]

👀 Please tell us more about Harley/Millie (read: I also ship them).

Well hello there fellow rarepair enthusiast!

The thing about them is that they’re both enthusiastic for life and both girls who in some way might face being other-ed, so that’s something they could share. They have an unhinged nature about them, Millie with her whole deal and Harley, though bouncy and positive, IS still willing to steal a bounce house as a birthday party activity. Doesn’t even question it.

Harley also doesn’t read into maliciousness (ex: Slumber Party), so Millie trying to give her the brush off wouldn’t register the same. Millie’s interest in pixie wands deeefinitely seems like something Harley would also be into, so as they get older they could share their feminine interests with each other without judgement. They just seem like the perfect two to “yes and” each other, even if Millie’s not playing at first.

Millie’s interest in Louise is an obsession, which means the two will never be on equal grounds unless she relaxes (though I think there’d always be a level of separation because of this history). If she could find someone not to be obsessed with but to share space with just seems fitting. Someone like Harley who might think Millie is weird but still smile and try to be friends (ex: The Hurt Soccer) could be touching to someone who has been rejected so many times before. I think the potential is there!

[olivieblake]

KSIGJICNRJCNEHCBD HELLO HELLO WELCOME TO THE HELL THAT IS KNOWING ZUTARA IS EVERYTHING AND SHOULD HAVE BEEN WRITTEN AS SUCH !!!! wow i love that you are as angry as i was (and am every rewatch? yikes) this is amazing i knew you're my favorite but yeah wow man this really. confirms it whew high five

yeah it’s pretty wild how I knew this was what happened and was already bracing for it and yet STILL got completely misled by the narrative??? MEN I tell you MEN. I’m also going to use this ask as a method to reply to some of the other commentary if you don’t mind since this seems like a good place for communal frustration (here is my original post for anyone scrolling around lost)

@meg-hemmings: I agree with all of ur thoughts and I would TOTALLY read anything you wrote for Zutara … your writing is among my absolute favorite ever and I think you would write the Zutara dynamic so beautifully!

@one-man-propaganda-machine: I am - begging - you to write it yourself.

I... am not going to make promises, but I may have to. I want something very specific and that never bodes well for me. I doubt it would be more than a one-shot, but there are multiple scenes that could have occurred between episodes that would flesh out what was there (and of course I’d cut the final 15 seconds of the show, much like another epilogue I loathe and ignore)

@deifiliaa: omg atla discourse in 2021; olivie, i’d love to see what your character tier list looks like now that you’ve finished the series 👀

I’m going to put azula at the top. not because she’s a good person obviously but she’s FULL. OF. HITS. every time she’s on the screen the narrative gets immediately more interesting. she’s savvy and self-assured and I love it. her ending depressed me although I like that it was kind of about the loss of her two best friends? if that had been more of a focus I think I would have enjoyed it more but yeah, losing mai and ty lee could have been rightfully devastating. who among us is not totally obliterated by friend breakups. I also really loved uncle iroh; if anything that’s why I wasn’t invested in zuko’s storyline until close to the end, because watching him disappoint his uncle was very difficult (I get it, he’s a teenager, he’s growing and evolving and whatnot, but also I am closer to being his uncle than to being him so like, yeah). I also hope the peter pan revenge guy (JET that’s his name, sorry pregnancy kills my brain cells) did hook up with both katara and zuko. I love that journey for all three of them. I wanted more time with mai than we got, so there wasn’t quite enough there to love... but I was very down with ty lee interfering on her behalf. what a pivotal moment

of the core characters I think I was quickest to love sokka; the episode where he apologizes to suki and asks her to train him cemented it for me. I think it’s a big deal to show boys apologizing on-screen and owning their misconceptions. I like katara a lot—she’s what a lot of people do with fanon hermione. toph is also great, and part of me feels there is a strong basis for a ship with aang that balances their opposing energy, though I also like the idea of them being platonic besties. aang is... twelve. pretty much every time he was on the screen mr blake (a teacher) was like “man, aang is such a seventh grader,” so it was nice how convincing that was for his emotional journey, but at the same time it was hard to forget he was in seventh grade. appa and momo are STARS. I am sure I have mentioned this before but mr blake really loves animals and he was devastated by appa’s kidnapping; he hugged our dog for about ten minutes after aang found appa. after he decided I was zuko, he speculated that he is closest to aang but he’s not happy about it lol. “ugh, aang and I are such boring pacifists” was I believe his take on the subject

@libbynico, who for some reason I can’t tag: so true! katara was literally something like a mother/older sister figure to aang the entire time, but whatever

yeah, I think it really sucks that katara, as the emotionally nurturing character, felt shoved into the role of love interest. it’s everything wrong with the distribution of emotional labor in male-female relationships but sure, WHATEVER, apparently nobody thought to ask me in 2008

@touslesnoms: I liked “such selfish prayers” by andromeda3116 if you ever decide to read zutara after the series; the worst prisoner by emletish is super funny too

thanks for the recs! I will take them. I do want something very specific so I will be accepting recs until I find it lol. or until I lose composure and write it (yeah this is me WITH my composure, no wonder mr blake thinks I’m zuko, “I’m never happy” indeed)

@gaeleria: THANK YOU!!! Ugh omg that “I’m confused” kiss scene made me actively hate the ending. I knew ahead of time they were endgame, so I tried to make myself accept it early on. Like, I really didn’t like the pairing, but I wasn’t going to be emotionally invested in the romance and it was just going to be like, whatevs. AND THEN THEY WROTE THAT SCENE??! 1000% no. What was even the point of that scene? If they had written it to make Aang have some introspection and realize it’s not all about him, Katara’s feelings matter too, or even apologize, or anything… but no, there was literally no point to that scene. No character growth, it was never mentioned again. Ugh.

this is in answer to both you and beloved @zabbini: yeah this was a fuck-up for sure lol. I think it may come down to editing for time; the series is very irregularly paced, what with the majority of the action taking place in the final three episodes of a 16 episode season. or maybe it’s just because MEN CAN’T BE TRUSTED TO WRITE ROMANCE but either way yeah this was a real misstep and just truly, truly reeked of a particular (white) male attitude about how women think and what they owe. had a bad day, dudes? buy a gun, kiss your forever girl, do whatever you want and it’s fine! (I’m exaggerating but barely)

in terms of what’s so angering for me: a character like katara who previously had tons of agency was robbed of it when it came to her romantic arc, which is just really upsetting. and to be fair, I was equally upset when zuko instantly agreed to the agni kai with azula because it was like okay well katara’s extremely valuable, as you know, but now you want her to just sit on the sidelines...? (more of a story flaw than a relationship flaw, but my chest sunk a little at the idea that katara was going to sit by and watch as an accessory to zuko’s story when she’s a crucial weapon in their collective fight. what a waste, right?) 

it’s also especially hard to buy into the aang thing when zuko’s method of problem-solving on katara’s behalf is there for comparison. he asks her what she needs in order to find closure and then from there, does everything necessary to get it without having to be asked twice. versus aang, who is a twelve-year-old pair of rogue lips who never wins any of his fights without the aid of phenomenal cosmic powers...? ugh I’m getting off track but in the end there’s just a complete lack of understanding what female audiences want, though again, I don’t think they were really considering that at all. which I guess is... fair, it’s not the point of the show, but then why make the ending romantic at all? to show that their brand of hero gets everything he wants, I guess

in conclusion in 2008 I’m not sure the industry was capable of doing better, which sucks but isn’t surprising. still, it does fit the components of “stuff I write fics for,” which is I enjoyed most of it but find myself enraged by slivers I compulsively need to fix—WHICH IS STILL NOT A PROMISE but ugh I can already feel myself giving in 

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

[SPOILERS FOR LEO’S ROUTE❗️] okay so i just got to the bit after leo reveals what he is, and mc and comte are talking on the balcony & comte offers to turn her into a vampire if she would like. obviously mc declines but i guess my question is, how do you think leonardo would react if mc DID agree to that offer? i am enjoying his route, but i kinda get the feeling he mostly/only loves mc because she is human :/ im interested abt what might happen if she didn’t say no? thank you v much💖💖ly lots

Aww, ily3 hun tyty 💕💕💕I’ll offer my thoughts below, I hope I can answer your questions to satisfaction! 

Ah yes, the point in Leo's route where I essentially get shot in the leg and limp through my walk of shame

Jk jk, but I think there has been a considerable degree of displeasure associated with Leonardo's line in the proverbial sand. No life with him can be spent as a vampire, MC must remain human. Despite his easygoing nature, he remains stalwart in his opposition no matter what the MC or Comte has to say. To summarize it quickly, Comte’s relieved exasperation at the end of Leo’s MS gets more across than I think any of my analysis can convey “Thank heavens one of you has good sense.” It offers the implication that he has tried to broach the topic with Leonardo out of concern, only to be met by a brick wall--or doesn’t try at all for fear that he’ll only ensconce Leonardo further into rejecting a greater future for him and MC.

As to how he would react I......really don’t think it would go well? Only because I think it would serve to reinforce the rifts that already exist in Leonardo’s self-perception. He would believe it was his own fault for pushing her in that direction, and while I don’t think he would hate Comte, he would definitely become estranged from one of his only close friends in life. (What GUTS ME about Comte offering to turn MC is that he is probably well aware Leo might beat the shit out of him, never talk to him again, or both--and he still fully accepts that he could lose his best friend to guarantee a future for both of them. Excuse me while I bawl in the corner) He probably wouldn’t hold it against Comte for too long, but he wouldn’t be any less aggrieved and hurt. And when Leonardo is vulnerable, he will hide and nurse his wounds until he can behave with some level of calm--or at the very least until he can pretend he’s okay after an initial explosion. He doesn’t feel comfortable troubling people with his own problems, so he tends to fall into silence when personal things come up. This doesn’t necessarily mean he resolves all of his emotional turmoil, or heals that fast; it only means that he wallows in those feelings alone unless they’re tugged out of him and worked through forcibly.

Basically, I see only one of two possibilities coming to fruition. The first is that he and MC would wobble only to completely fall apart if some kind of resolution could never be found. He’d continue to blame himself and start sabotaging his own happiness, and that would likely mean some level of selfishness directed at MC--resulting in anguish for the both of them. If MC takes on too much without complaint or Leonardo goes too far...I get the feeling that relationship would either end in shambles immediately, or result in a kind of twisted union in which both feel responsible for the other’s hurt but neither one can relieve it (until they’d be forced to split up before someone gets seriously hurt). They would be the source of each other’s suffering, so much so that the walls climbing between them might never again lower. 

This might sound odd, but if there’s one thing that Leonardo needs it’s control when it comes to his relationships with others. It is a subtle, but acute trait that might not seem obvious knowing his magnanimous disposition. He decides if MC gets to be a vampire, he bargains with Sebastian because he refuses to be a test subject, he refuses to validate Comte’s conclusions (despite knowing he’s right) because he doesn’t want to cede the power silence/smokescreens offer his emotional vulnerabilities. Even around villains like Shakespeare and the final serial killer, pay close attention. Shakespeare begins revealing deeply personal information and wishes that Leonardo holds close to his heart on purpose, snatching Leonardo’s agency and ability to control how his feelings are being conveyed. How does Leonardo respond? With explosive, forbidding anger--instantaneous and barely contained, nothing at all like his breezy attitude and calm.

If you think about it, it’s a fairly obvious extension of the humiliating powerlessness by which he was raised (he needs to be in control; he needs to be the one who decides who gets to walk away and who doesn’t. He doesn’t come on to MC because he wants to, he does it for the sole purpose of scaring her out of wanting to be a vampire. He doesn’t even attempt to explain where he’s coming from because he falls into whole-scale panic. When he loses control of the trajectory of others--of how they perceive certain things about him--all of his charisma fails him. If he can’t explain or justify where he is mentally, when he’s too afraid they won’t hear him or care, then he needs to redirect the opposing party). Additionally, he feels responsible; that he can better adjust the outcome with his experience--and while that may be true for some things, sometimes he gets ahead of himself. Only an individual can decide their own future and their own happiness, the most others can do is enhance or worsen aspects of life. He doesn’t have enough faith that his presence is positive or worthwhile enough to guarantee his spouse’s happiness ;-;

The other possibility I see is MC coaxing him as best she can into reassurance that she’s happy with her new life. While he may have doubts, there is absolutely room for her to help him approach those fears little by little. If Leonardo has even a hint of doubt in regards to his dismal feelings about her being turned, a potential for acceptance may be nurtured. I don’t think his uncertainty would ever fully vanish; there will always be a lurking fear that a fate tied to his can only mean suffering and disappointment. Prove his worth and compassion with time, and this man will be unable to remember how life was lived before her. It would take a great deal of patience and a sizable obstacle, but it wouldn’t be impossible. His heart is much too big for that, I think.

I don’t think happiness with a turned MC is impossible, only that it would take a lot of work to swing it after a heated moment of decision. I think the way to go with Leonardo is a more enduring effort. He shows much more receptivity after years of being together. I think time, ironically, helps him relax into the possibility of forever as a couple. I think he cannot conceptualize a world in which he is in love, and that this love is not conditional--not dependent on his ability to be the perfect companion, the brilliant inventor, the equanimous mentor. I think he needs to see for himself that love can be gentle and real and whole even when he’s at his worst (by his self-perception). 

Also I put some extra meta under the cut because I have brainworms and just can’t stop thinking about Leonardo rn so read if you like, but it’s more related to why he feels this way abt turning MC than necessarily about the outcome. 

That being said, I'm conflicted because I don't necessarily think Leonardo only loves MC because she's human? (Rather, I think it’s more a result of his history and the values he’s developed in response to that upbringing. But I’ll loop back to this in a bit, so stay tuned)

I say this for two reasons. Firstly, I don't want to say that no person in this period shared his values (I mean look at Comte)--this would be an overstatement, even if it was rare. But it does appear that Comte and Leonardo are acute exceptions within vampire society in elevating human beings to an equal status among vampires (if not a higher status at points or depending on the person). As such, a vampire partner he’d be comfortable living with is unlikely. Human beings are more optimal in some regards (more adaptable and more egalitarian than vampires, most likely), but he also knows that he’s more susceptible to falling in love with a human; so he makes sure to squash his feelings or remove himself when his feelings become too intense. 

Secondly, he's in close quarters with MC by necessity, and reacts to her isolation by virtue of the situation. That's probably half the reason they get together at all; he was fully intending to keep his distance despite his initial curiosity. One thing this signals to me is that even when Leonardo did feel attraction to any person he was in contact with, he would avoid them until they were removed from his presence--or he deflected their romantic approaches enough times for them to give up. With this in mind, it can come as no surprise that Leonardo has kept to himself for nearly five hundred years now. If it was another vampire hitting on him (especially a pureblood), he would be playing into his parents' expectations and would approach the vampire social hierarchy he was working so hard to escape. If they were human, he would deem himself a burden; he could never love them within the normal expectations of a human couple (growing old together, raising a family, etc etc). So ultimately I think it's less her being human, and more their compatibility and context.

As such, I think he just locks himself into a kind of Catch-22? Because in the end I think this is more about his own fears and insecurities--that he can never make someone happy, that he himself will never be enough (hello child of abusive home). Not to oversimplify his character, but one crucial element of his upbringing must be considered if he is to be analyzed properly.

There's something I often think about:

Comte, quoting Leonardo: "‘Not all parents love their children, or even think of them as such.’"  [Though he got away and was able to make a life for himself, he had to do it alone.]

There is. A LOT to unpack here. While we may not have evidence of what his familia is like firsthand, this description tells us...so many heartbreaking things. It tells us that Leonardo never once felt like anything more than a child intended to carry on a legacy. The likelihood that his insights, his feelings, or his entire self-hood were acknowledged is pretty much at a hardcore negative three. While it's been a good number of years since he was the problem child/family disappointment, I feel like so many of those experiences seep into his capacity to properly accept the love of another person. It's a good portion of the reason he struggles so intensely with being loved despite his unfathomable wealth of affection for other people. When a person is diagnosed with unlovable and cringe for having positive feelings for others, it's not really surprising that a person might have trouble accepting a commitment or attraction to another person. There is...a kind of Sisyphus dilemma that surfaces in the wake of that kind of life, a constant push + pull between craving acceptance and either expecting it’s loss and/or fearing it’s disappointment. Though he shows signs of healing from it, there are still portions that linger. (Jean-Paul shakes him from this self-berating in his MS, but after four hundred years he still struggles to overcome those instincts. I wish there were words for the extent to which that knowledge breaks my heart...Many say time heals all wounds, but sometimes I think only others can heal them.)

Keep in mind, I don't think his enduring fallacy that "human beings are the epitome of untainted purpose and vitality" is irrelevant or less problematic here. I just think it's a reflection of a deeper disturbance and loss. It's a reflection of his parents' unilateral rejection of the kinder parts of him; his devotion to patience and understanding. It's a kind of reiteration or what he's already known: he's doing exactly what his parents did in an odd way, he's rejecting vampirism whole-scale despite evidence of both pros and cons (just as it is for humanity). I will always offer that his fear of something going wrong during the change is completely valid--but it does feel more like a fear of admitting that vampires (and eternity for that matter) aren't inherently awful. He ran away from his parents for good reason of course, but for all his running he didn’t escape their black and white logic.

It’s funny too, because his absolutism is kind of reflected in his inability to commit to a single discipline in some ways; while part of it is that he probably exhausts study, I have to wonder how much of him oscillating is a fear of eventual failure. (Think his reaction to MC’s knowledge that he can’t dance, his mortification and utter...shock that she wouldn’t use it as a way to make him feel terrible about himself). He probably prefers to hone his skills helping people because the motivation of providing relief is a much more powerful motivator than knowledge for knowledge’s own sake. He needs the impetus, that drive to move him.

Granted, I won't fault anyone for feeling like Leonardo only loves MC for her humanity. At first glance it really did feel that way! But the more I think about it, the more I feel it has more to do with the weight of his life's experience, and the parts of himself he hasn’t been able to reconcile.

Sometimes, with Leonardo, I urge gentleness. So much of who he is disguises all the ways in which he has been hurt. While his decision is selfish and foolish, it comes from a broken place. My unhappiness will always lie predominantly with the fact that he believes to his core that happiness and self-respect is something he doesn’t deserve. 

[shinidamachu]

Tale As Old As Time

Summary: InuYasha, Kagome, movie night trope and my Disney obsession walk into a bar... Pre-canon fluff. Word Count: 2.159 Genre: fluff Fandom: InuYasha Pairing: Inukag Format: oneshot AO3 Link: 🌹 Fanfic.Net Link: 🌹

“Time to go to bed, birthday boy.” Mrs. Higurashi planted a kiss to Sota’s forehead and the sleepy child grunted softly.

“I’m not tired.” He protested, immediately yawning and contradicting his already fragile point.

“Yes, you are. Come on, now. It’s late. Grandpa is sleeping and I’d like to rest too.”

InuYasha observed the two of them interacting, as he often did. There was a feeling that always came along with it. He couldn’t quite put a nail on the head of it. Something between the most harmless kind of envy and the saddest type of longing. The sensation of a beautiful dream that escaped him by morning, forever out of reach, no matter how hard he tried to make the pieces of it to rise up again in the horizon of his mind.

He remembered his mother to be just as tender.

But did she ever kiss his forehead that way? Did they ever argue over sleeping time, InuYasha and his boyish stubbornness, she and her heavenly patience? How much of her was truly a memory and how much was his wishful imagination? The longer the years went, the thinner the line separating illusion from reality got. InuYasha feared the day would come, when he couldn’t tell the difference at all.

“Fine.” The boy gave in, fatigue stronger then his will and eyes barely open as he stood up and made his way upstairs. “Good night, everybody!”

“Sleep well!” Kagome replied.

“G’night, kid.” 

“InuYasha,” Called Mrs. Higurashi, “I take you’re spending the night?”

“Y-yeah. If that’s alright, I mean.”

“Of course it’s alright, dear! We don’t have a spare room, but we do have extra pillows. Kagome can get you one or two. Do you mind sleeping on the couch?”

InuYasha turned to Kagome, who promptly took his questioning look for what it was. Smiling, she tapped the comfortable surface of the furniture they were currently sitting on, mouthing ‘couch’ to translate her mother’s intentions.

It still caught him off guard, the extent of caring that lady nurtured for his well being. She had absolutely no obligation to. No motivation, other than the pure compassion of her heart. The same compassion he saw in her daughter.

“Oh! No, I don’t mind at all. Thank you.”

When it came to Kagome’s mom, he couldn’t help to be overly-polite. Even if by other people’s standards, that equaled to merely being polite. For reasons he couldn’t comprehend, but that went beyond returning her gentle favors, it was crucial to be in the woman’s good graces. Maybe a small part of him wanted to be reminded how did it feel, getting used to motherly kindness.

“You’re welcome. Now, don’t you two stay up too late. I won’t let you go off to fight demons in the feudal era without a proper breakfast.”

“We won’t.” Kagome assured her. And that appeared to be enough. 

Following after her son, Mrs. Higurashi wished them sweet dreams and before he knew it, he was alone with Kagome.

It was Sota’s birthday, which, InuYasha learned, meant that a decade ago, on this exact day, the little guy was born. To celebrate the occasion, his family reserved the whole day so they could share delicious meals and bask on each other’s company. And to InuYasha’s surprise, his presence was requested there as well.

It wouldn’t be the first time he stayed over, but it was the first time her mom was aware of it. More than aware, encouraged him to do it. Even if InuYasha was fluent in the language of affection, even if he found the perfect words to explain it, he doubted one day she’d understand how much he valued her trust and acceptance.

Kagome cuddled up to InuYasha under the blanket they shared, tangling their arms and allowing her head to fall on his shoulder. His entire body stiffened in response. Was she really that oblivious to the effect she had on him or did she know just what she was doing? He was never able to figure it out. Regardless, resisting the sense of serenity that came with every aftershock was an impossible thing to do. As usual, InuYasha quickly surrendered. And as long as white flags consisted on leaning towards her touch, he was no opposed to it.

“She stayed.” and mesmerised, InuYasha stared at the magical box in front of them — a television, Kagome had told him. In her world, it seemed, there was something new to learn whenever he thought he had everything figured out. For the past four or so hours, they had been watching story after story unfold inside the strange device and Kagome had taken advantage of her brother’s crescent exhaustion to play some of her favorites.

“She couldn’t leave him there to die! He just saved her life.”

“Isn’t he a demon of sorts?”

“A beast.”

“Then it would have been fine, either way. He’s clearly stronger than humans.”

“Maybe. But she needed to see it for herself.”

“Why?”

Kagome sighed. 

“Because she’s already falling in love with him.”

Frowning, he mentally replayed the scenes, searching his brain for the signals he had so obviously missed.

The beast character was in love. InuYasha had no doubt about it. The girl had his heart the instant she volunteered to take her father’s place as his prisoner. He longed for her presence — despite her refusal to indulge him — and put effort into treating her nicely — despite not extending the same courtesy to anyone else. Everything she said, everything she did, had the power to drag him down or sweep him off his feet. He struggled with expressing the sentiment, his pride and bad temper getting in the way. But it was there. The situation was all too relatable for InuYasha not to recognize it.

The girl, though? The idea of her falling in love with the likes of him was absurd. Why would she? It was to be expected that someone graced with such intelligence and beauty would have known her own value better than to fall for a monster.

And yet, Kagome was right.

The tale went on and the girl took the beast to safety. A life for a life. They were even. She was free to go.

Still, she stayed by his side until he healed and every day after that. Because she could see right through his tough facade and was never being afraid of giving him a piece of her mind. And he saw her in return, welcoming the habits her own village judged her for maintaining. Against all odds, they understood each other like the last two native speakers of a tongue long claimed by oblivion.

Of their own accord, InuYasha’s eyes fell into Kagome.

“The best part is coming up.” She announced, thankfully snapping him out of his treacherous thoughts.

Song started playing, a sweet melody filling the air. All of the sudden, Kagome was moving the furniture around.

“Watcha doin’?”

Rather than responding, the priestess took him by the hand and guided him to the center of the room. Dumbfound, InuYasha watched as she silently raised his arm at shoulders height, placing his free palm firmly on her back right after.

By the time InuYasha picked up her intentions, they were already spinning around, dancing barefoot under the television light.

InuYasha had never learned how to dance. Between a battle for his life and the next, the opportunity didn’t present itself and, to be honest, the notion he was missing out on something hadn’t occurred to him. The whole thing seemed so out of his brutal reality, it was almost futile.

And despite finding himself wishing he had the necessary skills to better follow her movements, InuYasha discovered dancing with Kagome to be a surprisingly easy task. There was something peculiarly natural about the way she rested her head over his chest as they slowly swayed to the rhythm. He wondered if she noticed the inflation of it as he breathed her in, the scent he had grown to love so much overflowed his senses with a hint of corn and butter.

Kagome pulled away from him on cue with the song, using the hand holding hers to whirl away from him without ever breaking contact, only to swirl back to his embrace. The more they repeated the steps, the more his confidence grew and, passed the awkward phase, InuYasha was actually enjoying himself.

Too soon, the tune came to an end.

InuYasha stood there, unsure of what to do. Self awareness manifested itself hot pink on his cheeks. He had just danced with Kagome. And he had liked it. And he wanted to keep going.

She stared at him, a big smile on her face as if he was the one to give her a present and not the other way around.

“I always wanted to do that,” she confessed in a nervous laugh. Her gaze avoided his but her body remained in place, pleasantly close. “Anyway… Thanks for coming today. It meant a lot to Sota.”

“Y-yeah, no problem.”

Belle… Are you… Happy here with me?

Yes!

The distant voices brought the half demon down to Earth. For a second there, he had forgotten all about everything that wasn’t her. Their words sank in and InuYasha felt his curiosity blossom. He had to ask, even if the answer scared the shit out of him.

“Are you?”

“Huh?”

“Happy there with me... Are you?”

“Of course!” Guaranteed Kagome. “Why would you ever doubt that?”

There was an unspoken rule to never talk about it. The subject was too delicate, too painful to discuss. Kagome being Kikyo’s reincarnation and falling down that well was not an unpretentious whim of fate. It carried purpose, and once that purpose was fulfilled… Well, he’d rather fight Naraku over and over than having to face the dreading thought of an after.

Miroku and Sango had their future set. Defeating Naraku meant getting rid of the Wind Tunnel and setting Kohaku free, one way or the other. They could finally get married, start a family. Even Shippo had plans to keep doing those fox demon exams in order to improve his powers. InuYasha seemed to be the only one in the dark. His goal was to become a full demon, but that was then. What he wanted now and who he wanted with, had changed into something way more uncertain.

When they defeat Naraku, Kagome won’t hang out in his era as often. Without any further obligations there, she could dispense as many time she judged appropriate for her school thing and they would only see each other sporadically.

There was also the real possibility the Honekui no Ido would close forever. With their mission done, so was the need to allow their temporal trips, and that meant separation. As far as logic goes, he didn’t belong in her world and she didn’t belong in his. 

Yet, she fitted  into his life so well.

The prospect of Kagome choosing to live in the past with him was his favorite ‘what if’. But he had no right to ask her such thing of her, nor was he selfish to the point of actually doing it. She was his friend and even if they were something more, it was crazy to think she would drop her friends, family and everything she knows just for him. How could he ever compete with that?

“I dunno, you do run off here a lot. I guess I just thought you didn’t like there as much.”

“I’m sorry I made you feel this way, InuYasha. But it’s not the case at all. It’s just… I have a life here too, you know?”

“Keh. ‘Course I do.”

She smiled fondly

“Aren’t I lucky to have two places to call home?”

Something inside him melted into a smile of his own.

Their tomorrow was a cloudy day. Changeable and blurry. All he could do was hoping it would clear up.

Of one thing, though, InuYasha was certain: if she so wanted, he could leave everything behind and stay in her side of the well as it closes. The place was loud, too crowded for his taste and the smells were overwhelming, but they would be together and for him that was home.

“I suppose.”

“Come on, let’s watch the rest of the movie. It has the perfect ending.”

Doing as he was told, InuYasha walked to the couch, where Kagome nestled against him again.

Maybe it was foolish not telling her how he felt, how he have been feeling for a while now. It sounded insane to ignore the fear of losing her, of losing his home, always there lurking in the shadows. Maybe he was a mad man for keeping all of the things he desperately needed reassurance of at bay in exchange of enjoying that moment with her.

But right then, the hope of another dance was enough.

A/N: THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE 1K OR LESS, THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE 1K OR LESS, THIS WAS S-

Thank you all for reading. Maybe you've noticed I'm writing fluff stories a little more. I feel like it's not my best suit so I'm trying to give it practice. Still have a lot to improve and this wasn't edited, so be nice.

Anyway... Here is something sweet for @sophtin​ (and my self indulgent ass). Hope you rot your teeth, baby.

[hopetofantasy]

‘HUMO’s big youth survey - Politics, society and religion’ - With Nora Dari (part 2)

- TW: racism, neo-nazism, extreme right, police brutality, white privilege, ethnic profiling, Black Lives Matter - DONE PLAYING Tom Van Grieken and Dries Van Langenhove are second and fifth in the list of popular politicians. Vlaams Belang surpasses NV-A as the most popular party. Do you get their success with the youth? Céleste Cockmartin: “I’ve got a simple explanation for that: Vlaams Belang uses young language.” Nora Dari: “They’re on TikTok!” Bouba Kalala: “Politicians talk on tv like they’re the smartest people in the world. But when Tom Van Grieken sits down at ‘Terzake’, it’ll give you the impression that he talks like a normal person. Like he doesn’t read the answers from a sheet of paper, even though he also prepares everything.” Céleste Cockmartin: “It’s a shame other parties don’t do the same. Then the results of the survey would’ve been completely different. I can’t believe young people who vote for Vlaams Belang, really support their positions. You can spot it in the survey: they’ve got a more positive perspective regarding immigrants than a few years ago and before the activism. So they’re contradicting themselves.” Bouba Kalala: “They’re tired of all the bullshit. Even when they don’t agree with all the positions, they simply want someone to listen and not treat them as a small children. They’re taking advantage of that.”

Do your friends vote for the party? Bouba Kalala: “Not anymore, but I’ve seen old friends pose with Dries Van Langenhove on photos. Others might show off their SS-tattoo on social media and I’d run into them afterwards, at the Brussels Northern Station, in army uniform and with a machine gun in hand. (= The army still patrols some train stations in Belgium, as a safety measure to terrorism attacks). A very uncomfortable reunion (*laughs*). I grew up between sick racists.” Nora Dari: “That’s bad.” Bouba Kalala: “They saw me as the good black guy: ‘You’re not like that’. But they kept using the n-word constantly. I'd keep my mouth shut. My sister and I were the only black children at the primary school in Wolvertem. I saw a lot of racist stuff as a child.” Céleste Cockmartin: “Did you even realize it back then?” Bouba Kalala: “Yes, but the urge to fit in, was too big. I kept quiet, but now, I’m no longer silent. If my friends start a story with: ‘And then I ran into a black guy...’, I’ll object: ‘Is the color of their skin really relevant to the story?’. Then they’ll apologize immediately. I’ve got a different friend group than before.” Why did you stop being silent? Bouba Kalala: “Because of the Black Lives Matter movement. Something was always stuck inside me. I was obsessed with the Yellow Vests - a movement that finally dared to rise up against their government. When I saw these people protest on the street, after the murder of George Floyd - not one, but two, three, four days - I was done with letting people walk all over me. I’d been looking for a long time for something I could give my life to, and now I found it. Done playing, done with injustice.  Black Lives Matter isn’t solely about black people. It’s about people with a disability, a different sexuality, the muslims, who are still treated badly in Belgium, everyone who doesn’t have a voice.” Were you witness to the riots that happened after the Black Lives Matter-protest on the 7th of June? Bouba Kalala: “Yes. After the protest we drove home. When I saw what happened, I got out of the car: ‘Sorry, mom, I’ll take the bus’. I didn’t touch or break anything, but I had to see it with my own eyes. I didn’t want to hear the version of the media. I talked to these young people too: ‘You do know they’ll use this against you?’. Their response was: ‘We can protest obediently, but they’ll won’t listen to us anyways. Maybe they do now.” (*stops abruptly*) Sorry, I’m starting to rant, but it was one of the craziest days of my life. When I talk about it, I still feel the adrenaline flowing in my body.” Nora Dari: “I get emotional when I hear you talk about it. It’s deeply rooted within society to be an ass to anyone who’s different.” That’s what young people seem to realize too: 4 out of 10 are convinced the police use more force against a minority. Nora Dari: “I never feel safe near cops. You can’t fool me that there are just some bad apples. My little brother, who’s the sweetest 16-year-old in the world, doesn’t do anything wrong, just loves gaming all the time. But at least once a month he comes home with the message: “I’ve been pat down again”. I get angry, but it doesn’t bother him anymore. The indifference makes it even worse.” Have you got experience with ethnic profiling, Bouba? Bouba Kalala: “I was stopped by cops yesterday. While one officer started to talk to me, the other pulled the door open and sat down right next to me. ‘You have any narcotics with you?’ I couldn't resist answering: ‘Yes, cigarettes and a RedBull.’ He then searched the whole car. Very intimidating. By the way, I think it's not just about racism, but also abuse of power. But it is striking, that out of all my friends, I’m the only one who has ever gotten a cop in his car. All my friends are white.” Céleste Cockmartin: “I would love to live in a world where something like that doesn’t happen, a world where everyone gets equal opportunities.” Even if you had to relinquish some of your privileges? Céleste Cockmartin: “Yes. I want to contribute. I talk to friends who claim they support the Black Lives Matter-movement, but at the same time think that too much fuss is being made. If we don’t rise up to the streets, a lot of things will remain the same. I’d rather let those who are involved, speak their truths. I’ll support them from the sidelines. Though, I’ll admit: I’m constantly making mistakes, when I talk about it. (*To Bouba and Nora*) Hey, you can point this out to me?” Bouba Kalala: “No one should have to hold back out of fear of saying something wrong. It’s a sensitive subject, but no one will blame you if your message is well-intentioned. And I don't even want to think in terms of privileges. Please take every opportunity you get. All we ask is that we get the same ones.” 41 percent of youngsters think schools should pay more attention to the colonial past. Céleste Cockmartin: “I’ve got a lot of German friends: they are taught the history of WWII, year after year. We should follow their lead.” Should the statues of Leopold II be removed? 34 percent says ‘no’. Céleste Cockmartin: “I’m certainly not against removing them, but for me it’s not necessary. You could mention (on a plaque) what that man has done.” Bouba Kalala: “You’re right, you know. But if those statues aren't gone within a year, I'll take them down myself.” You’ve got Congolese roots.  Bouba Kalala: “My mom is Belgian and my dad is Congolese, but they got divorced early on and I’ve ignored that part of my roots for a long time. Until now. I was shocked when that discussion happened and people suddenly recoiled: ‘We’re not going to remove these statues, are we?’. Was I naive to think that we’re all opposed to what happened back then? Please don't tell me Leopold II has done a lot of good for this country.” Nora Dari: “Why would keep something like that, when you know it hurts so many people? You don't see a statue of Khadhafi anywhere, do you?” When I hear you all like this, you’re certainly the generation of action. Nora Dari: “I hope so. It would be bad if we would stay quiet, right now. If we stood still, with everything that is happening - racism, climate, corona - then we’re just cowards.”

[and-then-there-were-n0ne]

George Orwell, Notes on Nationalism

Somewhere or other Byron makes use of the French word longeur, and remarks in passing that though in England we happen not to have the word, we have the thing in considerable profusion. In the same way, there is a habit of mind which is now so widespread that it affects our thinking on nearly every subject, but which has not yet been given a name. As the nearest existing equivalent I have chosen the word ‘nationalism’, but it will be seen in a moment that I am not using it in quite the ordinary sense, if only because the emotion I am speaking about does not always attach itself to what is called a nation – that is, a single race or a geographical area. It can attach itself to a church or a class, or it may work in a merely negative sense, against something or other and without the need for any positive object of loyalty.

By ‘nationalism’ I mean first of all the habit of assuming that human beings can be classified like insects and that whole blocks of millions or tens of millions of people can be confidently labelled ‘good’ or ‘bad’. But secondly – and this is much more important – I mean the habit of identifying oneself with a single nation or other unit, placing it beyond good and evil and recognizing no other duty than that of advancing its interests. 

Nationalism is not to be confused with patriotism. Both words are normally used in so vague a way that any definition is liable to be challenged, but one must draw a distinction between them, since two different and even opposing ideas are involved. By ‘patriotism’ I mean devotion to a particular place and a particular way of life, which one believes to be the best in the world but has no wish to force on other people. Patriotism is of its nature defensive, both militarily and culturally. Nationalism, on the other hand, is inseparable from the desire for power. The abiding purpose of every nationalist is to secure more power and more prestige, not for himself but for the nation or other unit in which he has chosen to sink his own individuality. [...]

It does not necessarily mean loyalty to a government or a country, still less to one’s own country, and it is not even strictly necessary that the units in which it deals should actually exist. To name a few obvious examples, Jewry, Islam, Christendom, the Proletariat and the White Race are all of them objects of passionate nationalistic feeling: but their existence can be seriously questioned, and there is no definition of any one of them that would be universally accepted.

It is also worth emphasizing once again that nationalist feeling can be purely negative. There are, for example, Trotskyists who have become simply enemies of the U.S.S.R. without developing a corresponding loyalty to any other unit. When one grasps the implications of this, the nature of what I mean by nationalism becomes a good deal clearer. A nationalist is  one who thinks solely, or mainly, in terms of competitive prestige. He may be a positive or a negative nationalist – that is, he may use his mental energy either in boosting or in denigrating – but at any rate his thoughts always turn on victories, defeats, triumphs and humiliations. He sees history, especially contemporary history, as the endless rise and decline of great power units, and every event that happens seems to him a demonstration that his own side is on the up-grade and some hated rival is on the down-grade. But finally, it is important not to confuse nationalism with mere worship of success. The nationalist does not go on the principle of simply ganging up with the strongest side. On the contrary, having picked his side, he persuades himself that it is the strongest, and is able to stick to his belief even when the facts are overwhelmingly against him. Nationalism is power hunger tempered by self-deception. Every nationalist is capable of the most flagrant dishonesty, but he is also – since he is conscious of serving something bigger than himself – unshakeably certain of being in the right.

Now that I have given this lengthy definition, I think it will be admitted that the habit of mind I am talking about is widespread among the English intelligentsia, and more widespread there than among the mass of the people. For those who feel deeply about contemporary politics, certain topics have become so infected by considerations of prestige that a genuinely rational approach to them is almost impossible. [...] And there are whole strings of kindred questions to which you can only get an honest answer from someone who is indifferent to the whole subject involved, and whose opinion on it is probably worthless in any case. Hence, partly, the remarkable failure in our time of political and military prediction. It is curious to reflect that out of all the ‘experts’ of all the schools, there was not a single one who was able to foresee so likely an event as the Russo-German Pact of 1939. And when news of the Pact broke, the most wildly divergent explanations were of it were given, and predictions were made which were falsified almost immediately, being based in nearly every case not on a study of probabilities but on a desire to make the U.S.S.R. seem good or bad, strong or weak. 

Political or military commentators, like astrologers, can survive almost any mistake, because their more devoted followers do not look to them for an appraisal of the facts but for the stimulation of nationalistic loyalties. And aesthetic judgements, especially literary judgements, are often corrupted in the same way as political ones. It would be difficult for an Indian nationalist to enjoy reading Kipling or for a Conservative to see merit in Mayakovsky, and there is always a temptation to claim that any book whose tendency one disagrees with must be a bad book from a literary point of view. People of strongly nationalistic outlook often perform this sleight of hand without being conscious of dishonesty. [...]

Obviously there are considerable resemblances between political Catholicism, as exemplified by Chesterton, and Communism. So there are between either of these and for instance Scottish nationalism, Zionism, Antisemitism or Trotskyism. It would be an oversimplification to say that all forms of nationalism are the same, even in their mental atmosphere, but there are certain rules that hold good in all cases. The following are the principal characteristics of nationalist thought:

Obsession. As nearly as possible, no nationalist ever thinks, talks, or writes about anything except the superiority of his own power unit. It is difficult if not impossible for any nationalist to conceal his allegiance. The smallest slur upon his own unit, or any implied praise of a rival organization, fills him with uneasiness which he can only relieve by making some sharp retort. If the chosen unit is an actual country, such as Ireland or India, he will generally claim superiority for it not only in military power and political virtue, but in art, literature, sport, structure of the language, the physical beauty of the inhabitants, and perhaps even in climate, scenery and cooking. He will show great sensitiveness about such things as the correct display of flags, relative size of headlines and the order in which different countries are named. Nomenclature plays a very important part in nationalist thought. Countries which have won their independence or gone through a nationalist revolution usually change their names, and any country or other unit round which strong feelings revolve is likely to have several names, each of them carrying a different implication. The two sides of the Spanish Civil War had between them nine or ten names expressing different degrees of love and hatred. Some of these names (e.g. ‘Patriots’ for Franco-supporters, or ‘Loyalists’ for Government-supporters) were frankly question-begging, and there was no single one of them which the two rival factions could have agreed to use. All nationalists consider it a duty to spread their own language to the detriment of rival languages. [...] Nationalist thought often gives the impression of being tinged by belief in sympathetic magic – a belief which probably comes out in the widespread custom of burning political enemies in effigy, or using pictures of them as targets in shooting galleries.

Instability. The intensity with which they are held does not prevent nationalist loyalties from being transferable. To begin with, as I have pointed out already, they can be and often are fastened upon some foreign country. One quite commonly finds that great national leaders, or the founders of nationalist movements, do not even belong to the country they have glorified. Sometimes they are outright foreigners, or more often they come from peripheral areas where nationality is doubtful. Examples are Stalin, Hitler, Napoleon, de Valera, Disraeli, Poincaré, Beaverbrook. The Pan-German movement was in part the creation of an Englishman, Houston Chamberlain. For the past fifty or a hundred years, transferred nationalism has been a common phenomenon among literary intellectuals. With Lafcadio Hearne the transference was to Japan, with Carlyle and many others of his time to Germany, and in our own age it is usually to Russia. But the peculiarly interesting fact is that re-transference is also possible. A country or other unit which has been worshipped for years may suddenly become detestable, and some other object of affection may take its place with almost no interval. In the first version of H. G. Wells’s Outline of History, and others of his writings about that time, one finds the United States praised almost as extravagantly as Russia is praised by Communists today: yet within a few years this uncritical admiration had turned into hostility. The bigoted Communist who changes in a space of weeks, or even of days, into an equally bigoted Trotskyist is a common spectacle. In continental Europe Fascist movements were largely recruited from among Communists, and the opposite process may well happen within the next few years. What remains constant in the nationalist is his own state of mind: the object of his feelings is changeable, and may be imaginary. But for an intellectual, transference has an important function which I have already mentioned shortly in connection with Chesterton. It makes it possible for him to be much more nationalistic – more vulgar, more silly, more malignant, more dishonest – than he could ever be on behalf of his native country, or any unit of which he had real knowledge. When one sees the slavish or boastful rubbish that is written about Stalin, the Red army, etc. by fairly intelligent and sensitive people, one realizes that this is only possible because some kind of dislocation has taken place. In societies such as ours, it is unusual for anyone describable as an intellectual to feel a very deep attachment to his own country. Public opinion – that is, the section of public opinion of which he as an intellectual is aware – will not allow him to do so. Most of the people surrounding him are sceptical and disaffected, and he may adopt the same attitude from imitativeness or sheer cowardice: in that case he will have abandoned the form of nationalism that lies nearest to hand without getting any closer to a genuinely internationalist outlook. He still feels the need for a Fatherland, and it is natural to look for one somewhere abroad. Having found it, he can wallow unrestrainedly in exactly those emotions from which he believes that he has emancipated himself. God, the King, the Empire, the Union Jack – all the overthrown idols can reappear under different names, and because they are not recognized for what they are they can be worshipped with a good conscience. Transferred nationalism, like the use of scapegoats, is a way of attaining salvation without altering one’s conduct.

Indifference to Reality. All nationalists have the power of not seeing resemblances between similar sets of facts. A British Tory will defend self-determination in Europe and oppose it in India with no feeling of inconsistency. Actions are held to be good or bad, not on their own merits, but according to who does them, and there is almost no kind of outrage – torture, the use of hostages, forced labour, mass deportations, imprisonment without trial, forgery, assassination, the bombing of civilians – which does not change its moral colour when it is committed by ‘our’ side. The Liberal News Chronicle published, as an example of shocking barbarity, photographs of Russians hanged by the Germans, and then a year or two later published with warm approval almost exactly similar photographs of Germans hanged by the Russians. It is the same with historical events. [...] If one looks back over the past quarter of a century, one finds that there was hardly a single year when atrocity stories were not being reported from some part of the world: and yet in not one single case were these atrocities – in Spain, Russia, China, Hungary, Mexico, Amritsar, Smyrna – believed in and disapproved of by the English intelligentsia as a whole. Whether such deeds were reprehensible, or even whether they happened, was always decided according to political predilection. The nationalist not only does not disapprove of atrocities committed by his own side, but he has a remarkable capacity for not even hearing about them. For quite six years the English admirers of Hitler contrived not to learn of the existence of Dachau and Buchenwald. And those who are loudest in denouncing the German concentration camps are often quite unaware, or only very dimly aware, that there are also concentration camps in Russia. Huge events like the Ukraine famine of 1933, involving the deaths of millions of people, have actually escaped the attention of the majority of English russophiles. Many English people have heard almost nothing about the extermination of German and Polish Jews during the present war. Their own antisemitism has caused this vast crime to bounce off their consciousness. In nationalist thought there are facts which are both true and untrue, known and unknown. A known fact may be so unbearable that it is habitually pushed aside and not allowed to enter into logical processes, or on the other hand it may enter into every calculation and yet never be admitted as a fact, even in one’s own mind.  Every nationalist is haunted by the belief that the past can be altered. He spends part of his time in a fantasy world in which things happen as they should – in which, for example, the Spanish Armada was a success or the Russian Revolution was crushed in 1918 – and he will transfer fragments of this world to the history books whenever possible. Much of the propagandist writing of our time amounts to plain forgery. Material facts are suppressed, dates altered, quotations removed from their context and doctored so as to change their meaning. Events which, it is felt, ought not to have happened are left unmentioned and ultimately denied. In 1927 Chiang Kai-Shek boiled hundreds of Communists alive, and yet within ten years he had become one of the heroes of the Left. The re-alignment of world politics had brought him into the anti-Fascist camp, and so it was felt that the boiling of the Communists ‘didn’t count’, or perhaps had not happened. The primary aim of propaganda is, of course, to influence contemporary opinion, but those who rewrite history do probably believe with part of their minds that they are actually thrusting facts into the past. When one considers the elaborate forgeries that have been committed in order to show that Trotsky did not play a valuable part in the Russian civil war, it is difficult to feel that the people responsible are merely lying. More probably they feel that their own version was what happened in the sight of God, and that one is justified in rearranging the records accordingly. Indifference to objective truth is encouraged by the sealing-off of one part of the world from another, which makes it harder and harder to discover what is actually happening. There can often be a genuine doubt about the most enormous events. For example, it is impossible to calculate within millions, perhaps even tens of millions, the number of deaths caused by the present war. The calamities that are constantly being reported – battles, massacres, famines, revolutions – tend to inspire in the average person a feeling of unreality. One has no way of verifying the facts, one is not even fully certain that they have happened, and one is always presented with totally different interpretations from different sources. What were the rights and wrongs of the Warsaw rising of August 1944? Is it true about the German gas ovens in Poland? Who was really to blame for the Bengal famine? Probably the truth is discoverable, but the facts will be so dishonestly set forth in almost any newspaper that the ordinary reader can be forgiven either for swallowing lies or failing to form an opinion. The general uncertainty as to what is really happening makes it easier to cling to lunatic beliefs. Since nothing is ever quite proved or disproved, the most unmistakable fact can be impudently denied. Moreover, although endlessly brooding on power, victory, defeat, revenge, the nationalist is often somewhat uninterested in what happens in the real world. What he wants is to feel that his own unit is getting the better of some other unit, and he can more easily do this by scoring off an adversary than by examining the facts to see whether they support him. All nationalist controversy is at the debating-society level. It is always entirely inconclusive, since each contestant invariably believes himself to have won the victory. Some nationalists are not far from schizophrenia, living quite happily amid dreams of power and conquest which have no connexion with the physical world.

[...] If one harbours anywhere in one’s mind a nationalistic loyalty or hatred, certain facts, although in a sense known to be true, are inadmissible. Here are just a few examples. I list below five types of nationalist, and against each I append a fact which it is impossible for that type of nationalist to accept, even in his secret thoughts: 

British Tory. Britain will come out of this war with reduced power and prestige.

Communist. If she had not been aided by Britain and America, Russia would have been defeated by Germany.

Irish Nationalist. Eire can only remain independent because of British protection. 

Trotskyist. The Stalin régime is accepted by the Russian masses. 

Pacifist. Those who ‘abjure’ violence can only do so because others are committing violence on their behalf.

All of these facts are grossly obvious if one’s emotions do not happen to be involved: but to the kind of person named in each case they are also intolerable, and so they have to be denied, and false theories constructed upon their denial. I come back to the astonishing failure of military prediction in the present war. It is, I think, true to say that the intelligentsia have been more wrong about the progress of the war than the common people, and that they were more swayed by partisan feelings. The average intellectual of the Left believed, for instance, that the war was lost in 1940, that the Germans were bound to overrun Egypt in 1942, that the Japanese would never be driven out of the lands they had conquered, and that the Anglo-American bombing offensive was making no impression on Germany. He could believe these things because his hatred for the British ruling class forbade him to admit that British plans could succeed. There is no limit to the follies that can be swallowed if one is under the influence of feelings of this kind. I have heard it confidently stated, for instance, that the American troops had been brought to Europe not to fight the Germans but to crush an English revolution. One has to belong to the intelligentsia to believe things like that: no ordinary man could be such a fool. [...] The point is that as soon as fear, hatred, jealousy and power worship are involved, the sense of reality becomes unhinged. And, as I have pointed out already, the sense of right and wrong becomes unhinged also. There is no crime, absolutely none, that cannot be condoned when ‘our’ side commits it. Even if one does not deny that the crime has happened, even if one knows that it is exactly the same crime as one has condemned in some other case, even if one admits in an intellectual sense that it is unjustified – still one cannot feel that it is wrong. Loyalty is involved, and so pity ceases to function.

The reason for the rise and spread of nationalism is far too big a question to be raised here. [...] It can be plausibly argued, for instance – it is even probably true – that patriotism is an inoculation against nationalism, that monarchy is a guard against dictatorship, and that organized religion is a guard against superstition. Or again, it can be argued that no unbiased outlook is possible, that all creeds and causes involve the same lies, follies, and barbarities; and this is often advanced as a reason for keeping out of politics altogether. I do not accept this argument, if only because in the modern world no one describable as an intellectual can keep out of politics in the sense of not caring about them. I think one must engage in politics – using the word in a wide sense – and that one must have preferences: that is, one must recognize that some causes are objectively better than others, even if they are advanced by equally bad means. As for the nationalistic loves and hatreds that I have spoken of, they are part of the make-up of most of us, whether we like it or not. Whether it is possible to get rid of them I do not know, but I do believe that it is possible to struggle against them, and that this is essentially a moral effort. It is a question first of all of discovering what one really is, what one’s own feelings really are, and then of making allowance for the inevitable bias. If you hate and fear Russia, if you are jealous of the wealth and power of America, if you despise Jews, if you have a sentiment of inferiority towards the British ruling class, you cannot get rid of those feelings simply by taking thought. But you can at least recognize that you have them, and prevent them from contaminating your mental processes. The emotional urges which are inescapable, and are perhaps even necessary to political action, should be able to exist side by side with an acceptance of reality. But this, I repeat, needs a moral effort, and contemporary English literature, so far as it is alive at all to the major issues of our time, shows how few of us are prepared to make it.

[tarithenurse]

Nightingale - 22

Fandom: Naruto Pairing: Hatake Kakashi &/x Fem!OC Contents: More good stuff. And some serious. A/N: Sorta got the job! As in: not the steady contract but they arranged a 1year temp so I can get more experience (that was the only reason I didn’t get the full). Anyhoodles, might explain more in a separate post when I get home from my grandma’s funeral. As usual, ASK or REBLOG for tag!

Ch. 22

Darkness has fallen over Konoha, but this time the early night walk leads Kakashi and his mystery woman ambling down the streets towards the housing reserved for the jōnin and higher-ups who haven’t got their own real estate.

Apparently, Uguisu has been more or less ordered to live in an apartment there and her own reasoning is, as she’s explaining, that it’ll be easier to keep an eye on her. “That way...there’s no need to have anyone assigned to follow me 24/7, like Mitarashi...”

Makes sense – both the arrangement and the fact it’s Anko keeping an eye on things right now. “Is she’s gonna be your warden?”

“I dunno...” They’ve reached the complex on the Academy grounds and she takes the lead up the stairs towards her new home. “I suppose I’ll find out tomorrow if it hasn’t decided already...”

Leaving the staircase and coming to a halt, Kakashi realizes it’s an apartment wedged in between the homes of fellow jōnin. That’s not a coincidence. Handing the stack of books over to free her hands, Uguisu procures a key, unlocks and opens the door, but then holds out her arms for the borrowed goods in a clear but polite hint that he’s not invited inside. Can’t blame you. It gnaws inside him nonetheless, even if the jōnin doesn’t show the concern – he would much have preferred to make sure everything was as it should be indoors before leaving her alone.

“Well,” he nods resolutely, “if you need anything...”

She looks small and sickly in the unnatural light of the outdoor lamp. Dark bags under her eyes are suddenly prominent, the less than completely sincere smile unable of pushing away the grim demeanour. Still...there’s also an air of something calm about the woman. She’s hopeful, and that warms Kakashi’s heart.

“Thank you,” she hums.

He waits til she has closed the door. No footsteps? Perhaps she remains standing just on the other side of that barrier, perhaps it’s just the hopeless imagination of a man in trouble, either way he has to force his legs into action or he would have stayed there the entire night.

...

Among the shinobi comrades, Kakashi is often equalled with tardiness. He knows this. It's never his intention to be late and he always gets up and gets ready in time, but there's one stop he has to make at some point during the day and once there...old friends are hard to say goodbye to. All that remains of them is a memorial build in their (and many others') honour and visiting the site somehow detaches the living from time while granting them a brief respite surrounded by memories. Sometimes the faces of old are smiling. Often, though, the emptiness they've left behind is tainted by bitterness at the evil that stole these people away too soon.

Today was different. This morning, the white-haired jōnin lingered for no more than five minutes before hurrying off to see to his students because he was adamant, the day's training must be finished before the Recruits' classes ended. Needless to say, Team 7 greeted him with stunned silence as they arrived later than their sensei and none of them opposed the day's curriculum either.

"Who is she? Really?"

Kakashi glances over at the black-haired boy who's sitting in the grass with the lunchbox open. "You mean Uguisu."

The two other (yes, even Naruto) stop eating, favouring instead to listen and hopefully have their curiosity satisfied. There's no doubt they will take matters into their own hands and dig around if the many questions aren't answered soon, but...it's not my place to tell anyone and they have no reason to know. Turning the page of his favourite Icha Icha volume, the senior considers his options which could be better because, truth be told, even if Kakashi technically knows more than them, what he can tell will only lead to more speculation. He had hoped for news this morning only to be disappointed at the slow decision making. And the woman at the centre of the uncertainty? She'd left early for class.

"As I said yesterday," he mutters, "she's a friend from far away. She'll be staying here in Konoha and...maybe become one of our shinobi."

Oh yes, the kids are itching to find out more.

"Why does she have to do Academy classes?"

Sasuke is the one to answer the girl. "The Hidden Villages' schools don't teach the same things. If she's from somewhere with a very different choice of subjects then she might not have learned the things we take for granted. Right?" The last part is addressed to Kakashi who merely nods in agreement.

"What was her name?" Naruto has never had a great memory – a trait generally vital to ninjas.

"Minami Uguisu." And it fits her too. "Well! Better get back to work. How's it looking?"

They've been testing out a variety of knots and other rope-works. Some with better results than others.

...

Soon, the open area in front of the Academy will be swarming with kids as they flee from the last lesson of the day either to play or return home, but right now the only sign of life is Hayase about 20 meters up in the tree with his legs dangling lazily.

"Bird watching?" Kakashi calls out to him.

The chunin nods. "And revisiting the boring days from when I was little." He does look like someone who was half asleep only a moment ago – or at least wishing he had been.

"Gonna take her off your hands the rest of the day." Already walking through the front doors, whatever the assigned shadow says remains unheard.

Some of the little students acknowledge Kakashi as they rush past him on their way to freedom once more bu thankfully it isn’t long before the path is clear and the jōnin can enter the classroom without fear of toppling anyone over. Only two people are left: Iruka who’s gathering a wad of papers that probably are assignments, and the blue-haired girl that’s been haunting him regardless of being asleep or awake.

“Ah, I see they got a hold of you,” Iruka smiles at his friend who doesn’t admit he hasn’t been contacted, “that’s good! It seems my work with Uguisu’s gonna be fairly easy.”

The woman in question has joined the two men at the teacher’s dais, her arms laden with the borrowed books and a few pencils. Today, she’s tucked her hair into a messy bun which allows a peek at the curve of her neck. Pretty. It’s hard for Kakashi to focus, but he fights his attention back to the words flowing from the teacher.

“There are...some areas we need to cover, but none connected to the theoretical works of a shinobi.”

“What he means,” Uguisu smiles, “is that I’m a disaster when it comes to math or history, for example.”

Oh? Watching a blush grow and fade rapidly on Iruka’s face, some corner of the white-haired jōnin's guts tighten in protest before the brain catches up with excuses or explanations – all of which are necessary as he hasn’t been able to ignore the distance the woman keeps between her and anyone else. Including him. Less than 48 hours ago, he’d been kissing her, feeling her reciprocate and making his heart sing...then the dream ended and a nightmare unfolded, and now she’s pulled away.

“Well, that’s quickly fixed,” Iruka promises, “however!” He turns to fully to Kakashi at this, slapping a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “As her warden, I hope you’ll remind her to hand in the written assignments regardless of their simplicity and ensure she’s capable of applying theory to the practical training you’ll be overseeing.”

I’m her...? YES! None would have known how happy the revelation makes Kakashi just like they would be ignorant of the fact that he, until this moment, had had no clue of his role in the relation to Uguisu’s potential as a Leaf Shinobi going forward.

“Hai, I’ll keep her busy with studying,” the warden nods.

[megalony]

Power play

This is a King! Ben Hardy series I am going to be working on which is inspired by the Queen Victoria tv series and is like my other series Fatal Attraction. I hope you will all enjoy it, feedback is always appreciated.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogermeddow @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction @ambi-and-sunflowers @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me @peterquillzsblog @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh

Ben Hardy masterlist

Fatal Attraction

Summary: Ben falls for (Y/n), the Queen of England and is willing to give up the right to his own throne to marry her. But he knows that if he does, there will be a power play in the relationship because one will have more power and control than the other.

Enjoy.

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"Why are we even here? She was coronated four months ago. She's eighteen and she's the Queen, what do you expect me to do here?"

Ben adjusted the crisp cuffs of his shirt to try and stop the material from irritating his wrists that he felt the desire to scratch at until his skin peeled off. He looked over at his father who was stood staring at him with a smile that was faultless, something which Ben seemed to have inherited from him.

They were over in England and at first Ben thought they were here to see how the Queen was ruling and finding her new position as Monarch. He thought they were here to observe and maybe help because Ben had spent a lot of his youth in England and he knew (Y/n) very well. Now he wasn't so sure why they were here and he wasn't too happy to be here either. Try as she might, Ben knew (Y/n) was too young to be in this position. She was only just eighteen and she didn't seem to have very much political knowledge which was going to make her job that much harder when she had to work with politicians to rule the country.

"Every man and his dog are going to be coming here soon as suitors for the new Queen-"

"No. No, tell me you did not bring me all this way to try and charm her into marrying me?"

Ben started to scratch at his wrist as a look of anger took over his face at what he was now hearing. Ben did not travel all the way over here to impress and try to woo the Queen. He didn't want to win her heart and secure himself a right to her throne, he already had a throne waiting for him back home. Ben didn't desire to marry the Queen and he didn't desire being ranked down to loyal Prince in a country that was not his own.

He knew well enough to know that if he married the Queen he wouldn't have many rights or much say in any political or royal matters. It would be allowing himself to sit in on all the meetings but have no say in what happened or what was said. He would wave away his rights and would only be able to help and try to run the country on his wife's say so.

Ben was all for women to rule countries and be Monarchs he had nothing against that but he knew two royals marrying like this wasn't a good mix because there would be fights for control. He was brought up and taught how to rule over a country and that was in preparation for his throne back home, if Ben gave that up he would be sitting and doing nothing unless instructed. He was fuelled with fire and a passion to work and that would be dimmed down if he married the Queen.

"(Y/n) knows you, that already gives you a head start and we both know she needs to be married. The sooner she finds someone to marry the better because she will struggle ruling this country on her own. Son, you have a political head on your shoulders, you can advise her and walk her through this she trusts you."

"Is that what you think of me? You think I'd abuse that trust she has to get her to marry me and put me in charge? She isn't someone to be won she is a Queen and you're asking me to give up my right to the throne to be the Queen's fucking adviser!"

Ben wasn't like everyone else, he didn't see (Y/n) as a prize to be won or someone who had to be married off so no one should worry about her or think she was incapable. They seemed to think she had to be married to be controlled and Ben wasn't that sort of man who would marry for power and control. Nor did he want to ruin the trust and friendship he had with (Y/n) by marrying her just to become her personal adviser. He would become a glorified adviser but if he didn't marry her he could go home and be a King someday. He knew which he preferred.

His father had gotten them both invited here for the Queen's celebration and now Ben was supposed to charm his way into her heart.

"The Queen was not taught or prepared for the role of Queen and she is in the deep end. She has all this power that she doesn't know how to control and she would be the best ally for us. Think of what a marriage to her could do for both countries, not to mention how it would help her. The people love her but they worry about her inexperience which you have."

The way Ben's green eyes darkened like they had been shrouded in a cloud of dust made his father uneasy and the stern expression on his face and the way his muscles and jaw tightened was very off-putting.

"I will advise her as a friend and an ally, but I will not try to charm her to marry her. I haven't worked this hard to give it all up to be her lapdog no matter how kind or sweet she may be. Don't ask me again because my answer is no."

No matter how lovely Ben thought (Y/n) was the last time he had seen her, he couldn't allow himself to marry her and become one of her subjects because they would never be equal. She would be his superior and he her subject and that was not how any marriage or relationship should be, it shouldn't be a power play and Ben didn't want that. He had seen his uncle marry a Queen and wave away all the rights and control to her and no matter how much he loved her, he wanted that control which she possessed.

Ben desired more than advising an inexperienced Queen on how to rule her own country.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Turning her head ever so slightly to the right, (Y/n) let her eyes wander over to Ben for what felt like the hundredth time in the space of half an hour. She knew when she agreed to let him sit in on this meeting that he was either going to try and add his own input in wherever he could or he was going to be a personal distraction to her and she didn't know what would be worse.

But he had said nothing at all. This whole time he had sat in his chair near to the window with narrowed eyes listening intently to the meeting at hand but (Y/n) could read his expressions. When his eyes creased at the corners or his hands suddenly clenched into fists it meant he didn't agree with what was being said and when he shook his head ever so lightly and looked out of the window it was as if he was disgusted with what was being said.

More so, (Y/n) didn't know if she agreed with him or not because politics was now washing over her head. She was allowing Mr Hardin beside her to more or less guide her through this sea of uncertainty and nod with things she should agree with so she knew what to do.

It wasn't (Y/n)'s fault, not really. She wasn't supposed to be in line for the throne at all but people died unexpectedly through her first few years of life and she was next down the line. But her mother didn't train her in the world of politics and she didn't go to court often enough to know anything about how Parliament was run. She had had to learn years worth of knowledge in a few measly months and it wasn't enough. She was still learning and trying her best and (Y/n) didn't want people saying she didn't know what she was doing because she knew how to be Queen and how to rule England, she just needed a bit more teaching to make her a perfect Monarch.

With a nod of her head, (Y/n) dismissed everyone when the meeting came to an end only a few moments after her eyes cast over to Ben.

He had changed a little since the last time she saw him four months ago when it was her coronation. His eyes were a bit darker in colour, his jaw was a lot sharper and he seemed taller if that was even possible. His hair was shorter, his curls were no longer folding back on his head but cut down and he was allowing the hair on the side of his head to slowly grow back as opposed to being shaved. The last time she saw him he had promised she would be fine as Queen, he thought she would do a good job and that lifted her spirits immensely, but now she needed words like those again to tell her she was doing the right thing.

"Dare I ask what that look is for?" (Y/n) watched with intent eyes as Ben pushed himself up from his chair and slowly made his way over to where she was standing next to the large drawing table.

He didn't look very happy or interested or even pleased.

"You didn't say anything, you just let that man talk for you and nod to tell you when to speak. You're the Queen, you don't need permission to talk." Ben rested his hands in front of him with his right hand holding his left wrist to stop himself scratching out of nervous habit. He could see the way that (Y/n) waited for who Ben presumed was her adviser to tell her when it was safe to speak and when to agree and what to disagree with.

But she was the Queen, she shouldn't have to wait for instructions or clarity, she could say what she liked and give her opinion without being told when and where to do so.

"I wasn't waiting for permission, I was listening to what was being said."

"But they wanted your input and decision and you didn't give it."

"Because I don't have one, I was learning what they were telling me rather than waiting to make a decision." (Y/n) pressed her lips into a thin line when she watched Ben's eyes narrow and scrunch up as his cheeks rose in confusion. Her hands curled up into fists to try and stop herself from feeling angry and uneasy about the way he was looking at her like he didn't understand what she was thinking or saying.

"You... you didn't understand what they were telling you?"

When (Y/n) pursed her lips and turned her head away from him Ben wanted to laugh at the ludicrousy of it all. His father seemed to refer to her struggling as Queen but she had to have a basic knowledge of politics to be able to be Monarch. She had to work with Parliament and be above choosing sides of the parties in Parliament and understand the terms they were on. If she couldn't do that and couldn't come to agreements and decisions she wasn't going to get very far as Queen.

"I'm not as advanced in my politics yet."

"Forgive me for being crude but how do you expect to rule this country if you don't know how it works? You're the Queen and you're telling me you don't know anything about politics or what each party stands for?" No wonder people were trying to get her to marry someone so quickly, they were right in wanting her to have a husband who could be her adviser because she was going to drown under that crown on her head. She couldn't do this if she didn't catch up on her politics very quickly or unless she married someone who was going to tutor her or simply run the country for her.

"I didn't let you sit in on this meeting so you can be so rude. I know which party is which and what their principals are but I am teaching myself as I go along. Mr Hardin is advising me on these matters because no one else will, do not come here and act like I am a little girl sitting on this throne because I'm not."

(Y/n) was desperate to stomp her heel down on the floor to show him she was getting angry at his words but that would only further his image of her being a child wearing a crown. She was doing her best with what she had and she doubted anyone else could do this with as little experience as she had.

"No, you're not letting that man advise you, you're letting him control you. Your lack of knowledge and intellect in these matters makes you vulnerable and he's playing on that, he's telling you what to say and when to say it and telling you when to keep quiet so he can do the talking-"

"You are not here to lecture me!"

"Am I supposed to be here to kiss your shoes and tell you what a good job I think you're doing?" Ben knew he was taking a risk talking to abruptly and crudely to the Queen of all people who held more power and control than he did but he was being honest. He could see she wanted reassurance but as much as he wanted to give her that trust and reassurance that she was doing the right thing, he didn't think she was. Ben couldn't encourage her when she was going about this in the wrong way even though she was struggling and doing her best.

He wouldn't praise her or give her confidence that would only end up making her matters worse. He would be brutally honest or say nothing at all.

"You are here because I was hoping you could give me some advice or maybe even help me. But I see now that you're just like all the other men lined up in this palace ready to marry me and take my crown."

(Y/n) wanted to take a step away when Ben moved closer to her and towered over her like a demon. But she tilted her head up and braced her shoulders to try and match his stance and show that she wouldn't back down. She liked Ben, she trusted him because when they were younger and he paid small visits he used to be kind when everyone else made fun of her. He knew what he was doing and she knew he was taught and brought up to be King, she needed that influence right now.

But if he was going to be crude and hurtful like this then there was no point in him being here at all. (Y/n) wasn't going to marry anyone for the sake of being controlled like a puppet, she was going to prove to everyone that she could be as good a Queen as her predecessors.

"Don't worry your Majesty, I am in no hurry to sit by your throne and seen as your subject when I can have my own crown placed on my head. But if it's advice you want I can give you that. I'd advise you to learn quickly and try to do this without being told what to do. If you make mistakes that if fine and that is normal, but that man isn't someone you should be letting take over your role if you want to keep it. You need help, you need someone outside your Parliament to teach you before people know you're out of your depth."

Ben watched the way (Y/n)'s eyes seemed to lose their fire and her shoulders sagged just a little at what he said. He wasn't being rude anymore, he was being serious. Her adviser or whoever he was wasn't the person who she should be trusting and she needed someone to help her who wasn't out for their own gain or a political gain or she was going to struggle a lot worse than this.

He dipped his head at her in a small acknowledgement before he attempted to walk past her since he had upset and overwhelmed her. But he didn't get two steps away before (Y/n)'s hand curled around his wrist and caused him to stop and look back at her.

"Why don't you help me?" (Y/n) felt her stomach tensing and pulling inwards the moment those words passed through her lips. She didn't know what she was asking of him and if it would be a good idea or not but she had to try. Ben wasn't from this country, he didn't have a stake in politics even if he understood and took an interest. He had no reason to try and persuade her of anything and he knew what he was doing, he understood that meeting more than (Y/n) and more than anyone else it seems.

If he could help her in any possible way he was going to give her an advantage and let her be a proper Queen.

"I'm not part of your court or even your country, I don't know how long I'm supposed to be staying here either."

"So you have nothing to gain by giving me some advice and some help? You said it yourself I need someone out of my Parliament and how much further out of that can I get than you?"

"Would it really be wise to take my advice when people suspect I'm here to marry you?" Ben tilted his head down to look at (Y/n) but the way she smiled made him uneasy because it made his chest tighten and his heart jump like he had been electrocuted. He wanted to lean back to stop himself from getting too close like he was walking into a trap. Ben couldn't let himself get too close to (Y/n), he couldn't do this because it wasn't right. He wasn't here to marry her or make her fall for him or to fall for her, he couldn't have that kind of marriage or life. Nor could he go home and be King if he married or wanted to marry (Y/n).

"It may not be wise, but it's okay to make mistakes, isn't it?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"(Y/n) I can't, you shouldn’t ask me that you know that." Ben raked his fingers through his hair that he so wished was longer so he could pull on the strands and tug them to try and release the tension and anger building up in his system. But the reason he cut it this short was to stop himself from pulling his hair out in great chunks. He had too many bad habits that came from stress and anxiety and he had to limit them before he ended up hurting himself at this rate.

He turned his back to (Y/n) so he couldn't see how his words cut through her like a knife but angered and riled her up at the same time.

"Why not? You were supposed to go back to your country two weeks ago and yet you're still here so why can't I ask you?"

(Y/n) pulled at the top button of her dress that was beginning to constrict her breathing from how angry and flustered she was beginning to get. He was making this difficult when it didn't have to be and she wasn't doing this to upset him she was doing this because she liked him and she thought that she was possibly even falling in love with him.

"You can't ask me to marry you because it wouldn't work out!" Ben spun round on his heels to face (Y/n) but the look of anger on her face overwhelmed the sorrow that was casting in her eyes.

"Because you don't like me-"

"Now you know I like you that is not the point here, I like you far more than I should."

"And that's a problem? I have offers to marry me coming out of my ears but the one person I want to marry is now telling me no even though I've asked him to marry me which is the proper way to do things. You're different, Ben. You're helping me instead of controlling me, you don't want to own me or take my crown and you like me, if I can't marry you I'm going to be forced to marry someone with bad intentions."

(Y/n) could feel the tears forming in her eyes but she didn't want to cry. She didn't want to make Ben think she was trying to guilt-trip him into marrying her and she didn't want to cry because it would make her seem too emotional and weak and she was the Queen. She had to be strong and level-headed and give the people no reason to think she was incapable of wearing the crown she had been presented with.

"Don't do that (Y/n). Do you think I want someone else marrying the girl I love and taking control and advantage of her? I'd marry you this second to stop that from happening and to make sure you were safe but I can't because you are Queen."

Ben had done what he said he wouldn't and he'd done just what his father wanted of him. He had captured (Y/n)'s sweet, innocent heart and he couldn't give it back no matter how hard he tried. Ben loved her, he knew he did and he always knew she was different and special.

He would marry her now to ensure that she would be loved, protected and safe from anyone who would marry her just for her crown and to take control over her country that wasn't rightfully theirs. He didn't want her to be forced into marriage or to marry and be controlled, Ben wouldn't allow that but he was stuck. If he married (Y/n) he would surrender his own throne and his power and he would be stuck. He would have to ask (Y/n) if he wanted to help with her ruling over England and if she thought he was trying to take control she wouldn't let him do anything.

They were two dominant, competitive and very strong-willed people and putting them together on one throne was going to cause tension that could break them apart.

"You won't marry me because you want to be King? Fine, walk out that door and go back and wait for your crown, Ben. I won't ask you again and I won't take that from you, go and be in charge. Thank you for the advice and the lessons in politics, I think I can muddle through this on my own."

(Y/n) waved her arm out at Ben in motion to the door, wanting him to leave if he was saying this for his own crown. He had given her a lot of advice and he had done his best in the few weeks he had been here to try and teach her so she would be prepared for the rest of her life as Queen. He had even stayed for another two weeks when he was originally meant to go home. This visit was made by his father so he could woo the Queen and then go home and wait for a proposal or another invitation to come back.

The proposal had now arrived but Ben couldn't take it and he didn't know if he really wanted it despite how he felt towards (Y/n).

She had asked him to marry her just like was expected because the Monarch had to ask about marriage, no one could rightfully ask (Y/n) to marry them but an arranged marriage could be forced if (Y/n) didn't choose anyone soon.

"Don't do that! I'm not turning you down so I can have my crown I'm saying I can't marry you because it isn't fair. I've spent my whole life being taught how to rule my country and how to be King and I know how the Monarchy and politics work. But if I marry you that goes away, I will stay a Prince and as much as that would be okay with me, marrying a Queen isn't a good idea."

Ben reached his hand out for (Y/n) but she shook her head and pulled away. She wanted to marry him, she was falling in love with him and if she didn't fall for anyone else or find someone who she could at least be friendly with and tolerate then she would be forced into a marriage that would crush her.

"I've trained to be in your position (Y/n), how do you think it would work if I have to ask you to do anything or to spend my money or if I want to help? Would you sign away every right you had just to marry me because I wouldn't want you to do that."

"If you marry me you'll be ruling England with me-"

"But I won't, will I? You will be ruling and I will be your most trusted adviser and husband. I will need your permission for everything and I'll need you to tell me what I can and cannot do. We are both trained for the same position but you have it and if I marry you I'll always be your subject first."

It was as if they were both trained for the same job but (Y/n) had already got it and the only way Ben could have the only job he has grown up and trained for was to have that job in a different country without (Y/n) by his side. Ben loved her and he wanted to help her but he didn't think marrying her would work because sooner or later the power would come into play and he couldn't marry her only for the power to destroy them further down the line.

It was a risk he didn't know if he should take.

"I can't do this on my own Ben and you are far better qualified to do this than me. If you married me I would need you to help me, you'd be doing this with me because everyone here knows I need some kind of help. I want you to be my husband, I don't want you as my subject kissing my shoes. But if you're that worried or you want your throne I understand and you have to go."

(Y/n) knew Ben was telling her that he was worried and not that he was unwilling to give up his throne. She also knew she was asking a lot of Ben, she was making him decide between his rightful place in his country as King and a place here as her husband. She would strip him of his entitlement to his country's throne and make him leave his country behind to marry her and hope that her love was enough for him.

It was a lot for her to ask in return for simply giving him a lesser title with fewer rights and abilities. But if he declined her proposal then he had to leave, (Y/n) couldn't handle seeing him here for any longer and yearn to be with him. It would be easier for him to go right back home and stay there than to hang around here waiting for the dust to settle.

"(Y/n)..."

Ben reached his hands out and waited until (Y/n) finally relented and let him take hold of her hands, pulling her as close to him as he could get. He didn't speak until (Y/n) lifted her head and looked up at him.

"I have no problem giving up my crown for you, it isn't about me wanting power and a throne to call mine. But I have a problem with a marriage that holds a power play because I don't want that to ruin what we would have and I've seen that happen before-"

"So leave. If you don't trust that I will let you rule alongside me and help me then there is nothing more to say."

(Y/n) squeezed Ben's hands tightly before she begrudgingly let go and tried to pull away to further enhance her words but Ben didn't give her the chance. The moment she let go of his hands Ben reached up and cupped her face in his hands so he could kiss her. (Y/n) had never been kissed before- she'd never been kissed like that before and she'd never felt something so foreign yet normal, so different yet similar and something so enticing like that kiss.

She didn't want the kiss to end, especially not when she could feel every emotion he had pouring into her lips and the way he smoothed his thumbs over her cheeks made her knees go weak. But (Y/n) couldn't decipher whether this was a goodbye kiss or if Ben was telling her the exact opposite.

When they eventually pulled back for air, Ben leaned his temple against her own but the mix of emotions in his eyes didn't give (Y/n) the answer she was looking for.

What did that kiss mean?

[azems-familiar]

2, 4, 19, 39 for that pairing ask thing, for revan/alek/bastila of course

2) how’s their team work? do they share well?

so this Really depends on what era/verse of the gang but in 90% of them Alek and Bastila have this Silent Petty Rivalry going on for ages while Revan is utterly oblivious because holy shit Two Whole People. Revan is not smart. given that i write them as a V (haaard headcanon Bastila as a lesbian), Alek and Bastila utterly refuse to admit they’re friends for ages - oh my god the rivalry in the hp au is especially hilarious - but they Band Together the moment anyone threatens Revan. there are petty contests over who gets to get the closest seat next to Revan and many other things, it’s objectively hilarious, especially since they’re all completely awful at communication.

they do eventually get their shit together though and end up a good, solid team. there are a lot of things Revan shares with Alek that Bastila just can’t in the end understand, especially related to the war in my canon verse (i could give you a whole other set of paragraphs about them in the hp au ask me on discord if you really want that ramble), but post Star Forge there’s also a lot that Revan can only really talk to Bastila about - re the Council, the mind wipe, and Bastila understands the fall and return a lot better given that Revan post-Reveal went a little off the deep end into the Dark Side before realizing that oh, she doesn’t actually Want That. so they manage to find their footing and a good dynamic because Alek and Bastila both love Revan a lot and so are able to put aside their differences for her. (although there’s a whole lot to work through immediately post-SF re Bastila’s whole. imprisonment. which is a bit of a mess. but that’s another subject i’m rambling OOPS)

4. first impression of each other? was it love at first sight?

Revan and Alek met in the creche when Revan was five and Alek six. they Instantly Bonded. Alek’s realization of oh shit i’m in love happened the night they were knighted - Revan was nineteen and Alek twenty, and look he knew he’d had feelings but he’d been trying to avoid them, but then they went out and stole a speeder together and took it for a joyride and Revan was laughing into the wind and oh. oh no. then he spent four YEARS suffering in silence because she was too stupid and oblivious to pick up on it or realize her Own feelings until midway through the first war.

meanwhile, Revan’s first impression of Bastila was her fighting Brejik after the swoop race. Revan watched her and went oh no and Carth, who had previously been rebuffed because “i don’t do romance”, went “yeah i think i’m just not your type”. he was very right.

Bastila on the other hand has had a sort of hero worship crush on Revan since midway through the Mandalorian Wars, when she would hide bootleg holos of Revan’s fights under her mattress and even though she had no idea what Revan actually looked like it was a Whole Thing. meeting Revan as Shala did not help this crush in the slightest.

19) what do they fight about? what are their arguments like? how do they make up?

Actual Arguments are pretty rare; most of the times their fights are about incredibly small, stupid, petty things and they’re just bickering. all three of them bicker with each other as a form of affection. the Real Actual arguments tend to come over things like Revan deciding to abandon a planet to save Alek’s life during the war (because oh Yeah does that come out at some point post-amnesia) or about Revan’s sacrifices in general or about Revan running off to do something incredibly stupid alone because clearly that’s her best plan.

Revan and Alek get extremely sharp and cutting with each other if it’s bad, or they just get snappy in general because Revan is Determined and Alek is equally determined because he’s worried, damn it, Revan, and then Revan storms off and there are shields for like. a few hours. HOURS max. they’re too codependent to be apart longer than that especially with the bond. post SF it’s a bit different but i haven’t quite worked out all the details of their relationship there yet. they generally make up with a lot of silent apology and promises of affection across the bond and a lot of cuddling. Alek is almost always the one who gives in first.

Revan and Bastila’s arguments are a lot more explosive because Bastila also has a temper, they are vaguely less codependent, they tend to say things they’ll regret later and then Revan will go complain to Alek about it and he’ll get very annoyed. (on the Hawk it’s Jolee who plays relationship counselor. he is so tired. s o  t i r e d) eventually Revan finds a way to apologize without actually apologizing and generally attempts to like, do something thoughtful or bring Bastila something nice to help. Bastila, who is less ridiculously proud, can actually say the words “i’m sorry” without having an allergic reaction.

Alek and Bastila.... well. they can go for days on end without speaking to each other, while remaining perfectly unified on Revan’s Behalf. is this a healthy dynamic? perhaps not. but when has this triad ever been healthy.

39) who initiated the relationship? who kissed who first? when did they realize they were in love?

oh my god you’re hitting me with ALL the juicy questions today. SO.

i’ve already written a little of this and in the answers above, Alek realized he was in love with Revan on Coruscant when they were both knights, but he and Revan have a Force bond so clearly she Knew and thus if she Felt The Same she’d do something about it, and she never did, so clearly his feelings weren’t reciprocated, so it’s F i n e, clearly, he suffers in silence until a year into the war - i have written this scene! - at which point Revan kisses him while they’re back on Coruscant for her promotion to Supreme Commander. she’s going to figure out that she’s in love with him (as opposed to just loving him) either after Fett injures him on Lantillies or during the whole. Clefar shenanigans, i don’t know the specifics, i haven’t written it yet and i didn’t think they’d get together this early in the war so there’s that. they don’t actually Talk about being in a relationship like, at all, ever, they just don’t talk about this Thing between them, because there’s the war and then there’s Vitiate and then there’s the Sith and then there’s another war and then-

they do end up talking about it post-SF at Bastila’s encouragement because Revan finally gets most of her memories back and is Clearly Moping and Alek is Also Moping. god i’m going to have to write that aren’t i.

with Revan (should i say Shala?) and Bastila, hmm. i’m honestly not so sure on this one in my canon verse? it’ll make itself more clear as i write that fic, but i know that Shala has a hell of a lot of realizations post-Leviathan and i feel like this is one of them. i really want to say their first kiss is in the fucking, submarine thing on Manaan on the way back post-Star Map, because that was a Hellish experience, and then they do things Bastila regrets (except she doesn’t except she does except-) on the Hawk after, and then ofc the Leviathan happens. Bastila definitely kisses Revan first and i think she might realize she’s a little in love on Kashyyyk when Revan does the whole free the Wookiees thing? hmmm i’m going to have to poke at that more. 

anyway they have this whole scene at the temple of the ancients which is one of the few things from the kotor fic i have visualized in my head because it’s the moment Revan decides she’s going to choose the Light over the Dark and it’s massively important character-wise and i’m actually super super excited to finally get there so i can write it. post-SF they’re actually dating because they finally have a Sort Of Talk about it.

oh my god this got so long but i’m Not Sorry and i have approximately 30k more words to say on the subject especially related to the HP AU but i will shut up now lol. thank you for the questions!

[delightfulstarlightparadise]

Imagine Stardew Valley. Reader/Sebastian (?) Part 3

-Before we start, I would like to remind you that English is not my first language, but I am doing my best to write everything correctly.

Previous part here:

Getting rid of the weeds took all morning but you got to clean up a nice amount of land. Tiling the soil was a bit harder, you weren’t used to that much physical exercise, but when you finally got to plant the seeds you were feeling very satisfied. The apple sapling took twice as much effort, but it looked so pretty. You probably wouldn't see it giving fruits soon, though. Those took a whole season to grow and you could not remember which season they bare fruits.  

You sat down on the cabin’s porch and noticed how weak you were feeling. You forgot to eat both breakfast AND lunch and it was probably about six. There was nothing to eat there. You forgot the basics during your purchase at Pierre’s.

You then decide to go to town and check out the tavern. It is a pretty long walk and when you get there you are feeling even more tired and hungry. You are all dirty too, but you just noticed that when you were already on your way. If you went back to tidy up you could maybe miss dinner.

You lean in to open the door but it opens in front of you. A clearly drunk man wearing a Joja Mart’s uniform pushes you out of his way mumbling something not nice and staggers away.  

“Hello! Welcome, may I take your... OH MY! THE NEW FARMER!” a blue haired lady yells and every single person in that place turn to you.  

Actually, what about that town and all those different colored haired people? You think to yourself while trying not to panic with that much attention.

“Y/n, come here!” you hear mayor Lewis calling. He is sitting by a table with a beautiful fat woman. “Mernie, this is y/n, the grandchild!”

“Oh my! You are very different from what I thought you would be.” the woman says, smiling at you. “I live in a ranch very close to your farm. I met your grandfather too.”

“Hello.” you reply noticing that both of them seem to be a little high from beer.

“If you need some tips on how to handle your animals, just call me!” she says.

“I don’t have any animals.” you reply, shyly.

“Hey Emily! Bring y/n a beer! And some of that fish casserole! Gus! Come meet the new farmer!” the mayor yells.

You see yourself sitting with them even though your plans were just to take some food home.

“Oh my, you are all dirty. Spent the day working on that farm, right?” Lewis says.

“Actually, I did.” you reply in a low tone of voice. “It was fun.”

The blue haired woman comes to you with the requested dishes from the mayor, a beer and what seemed to be a cake.

“The dessert is on me! Welcome to pelican town, I am Emily.” she says.

“I... I can’t accept this, I mean...” you stutter.

“Don’t be silly!” she giggles and gives you a friendly slap on your shoulder. “It is so nice to have a new face around.”

You dine and it is one of the best food you have ever eaten, and you feel like crying again, but you can’t let it happen in front of so many people. Everyone still seemed to be paying attention to you.

A beautiful braided hair ginger woman and an equally handsome man were sitting by the table near you. She waves at you and he raises his cup in greet. You wave back trying not to look awkward. You felt like a city germling around those friendly people. The man tossing you away from the door earlier were the most familiar interaction you had there.

“Let me tell you about the time your grandpa and I...” Lewis starts telling you a disjointed story about an adventure your grandfather and him had in the Cindersap Forrest, but nothing seemed to make sense. Mernie keeps paying so much attention to him, she is all red and grinning.

You were trying to pay attention but that one beer turned into another and then another one, and you could barely listen to the words in sequence. It was all confusing.

“Hey Lewis! Let y/n be with other young folks.” you hear a familiar voice coming from behind you.

It is Demetrius, greeting you with a huge smile.

“You are never old if you heart doesn’t age.” Lewis says rising his cup and taking another sip.

“Well said, my dear friend!” you listen to the ginger man cheering on the table beside you.

“Hello y/n, my son and his friends are in the back playing snooker, you should go there too!” Robin shows up, and forces you to stand up from the chair.

She practically pushes you towards the back, although you really try to escape the situation. The last thing you want is to see Sebastian again after the disaster of the day before. But...

There he is, along with the purple haired girl and a blond boy with a stylish haircut.

“Ah, hey you.” Sebastian says, he doesn’t seem very excited to see you.

“Farmer! Nice to see you!” Abigail cheers, waving at you from the couch. “You look... dirty. But fine. Did you find any bats?”

“No bats.” you reply, crossing your arms a little embarrassed. “So... I guess I should be going now.”

“Hey!! I know you!” the blond boy says snapping his finger and pointing at you.

He hits slightly his head with the cue stick, apparently trying to invoke from his memory where he knows you from.

“I don’t think so.” you quickly say, trying to think of a way of going away without seeming as awkward as you were the day before.

“You are that Paradise kid!” he says and a bright smile enlighten his face.

“You remember which specific kid?” Sebastian asks, seeming amused.

“Yeah, the one that almost died because you pushed into the mountain lake!”

You, Abigail and Sebastian choke as Sam claps hands to himself for remembering who you are. And actually, you remember almost drowning in the lake, and you remember being pushed in the water, but you thought it had been one of your cousins.

“I guess I owe you an apology.” Sebastian says in a clumsy way.

“Ow, such a delayed apology.” Abigail giggles and he blushes.

“It’s ok, at least I didn’t die. I guess.” you reply.

“Wanna play snooker?” he asks and you can clearly see that it is out of politeness, and to escape the previous subject.

“No, I am heading home, I am tired.”

“Come on y/n! I am so tired of losing to Sebastian, I could use a partner.” Sam says, extending the cue stick at you.

He is such a cheerful guy you can’t picture how those two are friends.

“What do you think Abby?! Paired game?” Sebastian asks.

“You know I don’t like playing this game.” she says.

“It is ok, I am going no...” you try to excuse yourself.

“But if the farmer stays, I will play.” she completes her thoughts and winks at you.

You blush and this sight makes Sebastian stare at you with a both confused and annoyed face. You are surprised by Sam hugging you by the shoulders and yelling a combination of your names and “go team!”. Actually, how did he KNOW your name? Did he REMEMBER? You barely remember knowing him.

“Us versus team Sabby!” he says.

“Team Abbastian, my name comes first.” Abigail says.

You see yourself forced to play that game.  

Sam sucks.

He is terrible, a complete disaster. He keeps hitting all the wrong balls and making points to the other team, and sometimes he even cheers over that, not knowing that was not his ball. It is kind of funny, but secretly, you are not a very nice loser. But should you really play seriously?

The game is over very quickly and you are beaten good.

“Sorry, I said I was bad.” he smirks at you while scratching the back of his neck.

Sebastian raises his hand to Abigail, and she high fives him.

“Let’s play serious now?” you ask and wonder if you didn’t have one too many beers.

“Excuse me, what?!” Sebastian says rising one of his eyebrows in a resentful way.

“Yeah, I was just warming up.” you reply.

“Sorry, but not even if you were the best player of snooker in the world you could win with Sam as a partner.” he mocks.

“Try me.” you say while putting some chalk on your cue stick.

“OOOOOOOOhhhhh.” Sam says with the hand on top of his lips pointing at Sebastian.

“Ok, how about a one on one?” Sebastian asks.

“Fine.” you reply.

Both Abigail and Sam sit very close to the table to watch you play against Sebastian. The game starts even, each of you scoring in every play, he seems impressed. But your wrist starts aching because of the long hours of labor in the farm, and the shadows of your time at Joja corporation and you start losing some points.

“Are you ok?” Sebastian asks when he notices you pressing your wrist because of the pain.

“I’m fine.” you answer. “Ready to kick your ass.”

You immediately repents on the sentence, but Sebastian smirks at you and gives you space for your next move. Finally, you get back into scoring.  

Game comes to an end, you lose two points short.

“Nice game.” he says and extends the hand to you.

“Yeah...�� you grunt and shakes it.

“Sebby! We are going home!” Robin yells from the saloon.

“Right, mom.” he replies, rolling his eyes.

“Wanna come?” she asks gently.

“I will go later.” he says, annoyed.

“Oh right, walking Abby home.” she says and giggles as he facepalms annoyed. “Oh, and Sam too, of course. Make sure to take y/n too! Safely!”

“Good night kids.” Demetrius comes by and waves. “Don’t come home too late, Sebastian.”

Sebastian starts murmuring some curses while Abigail and Sam wave nicely at them. You kind of understand why he is so annoyed, but also don’t think he should stress so much about it.  

Actually, Demetrius and Robin were very opposed to your parents and this made you admire them a lot.

“Let’s play one more?” Sam asks, trying to hand you the cue stick.

“Actually, I should be going.” you say while massaging your aching wrist.

“Ok, I will pay my check and we go.” Sebastian says.

“What?” you ask.

“What?” he replies. “You heard Robin, if I don’t take you home, I am busted.”

Abigail seems a little uncomfortable on the couch.

“No, you stay with your friends, I can take care of myself.” you say.

“I am sure you can, we all can. But when Robin says something, you better abide by it.” Sebastian says while getting his wallet and heading to the balcony.

“No, wait!” you stop in front of him and he bumps into you, almost falling back.

“Damn, you’re strong.” he whispers rubbing his ribs.

“I will stay for a while more, than. I don’t wanna bother.”

“If you want to go, we will go.” he says, very clearly annoyed.

“No, I will stay!”

“Ok!”

Sam and Abigail glance at each other, confused by the awkward dynamic between the two of you.  

You sit next to Abigail on the couch while Sam and Sebastian play. You can’t bring yourself to playing anymore, your wrists are aching too much now.

“So, why did you come to the valley?” Abigail asks you.

“I... kind of... needed a fresh start.” you reply feeling unease about it.

“Funny, people from here go to the city for a fresh start, you came to the countryside.” she says. “Don’t expect much though. It is very boring here.”

“I hope so...” you say and sigh.

She was very wrong.

Next part here:

[kingluvsyou]

He was doubting himself. Was this even the right building? Would they even like his work? God, what if someone gave him issues because he hated mess. His grip on the leather steering wheel tightened though it made no difference with the fabric enclosing his slender hands. While resting his head on the steering wheel, he left out a quiet sigh that quickly devolved into a noise of frustration. He sat up,

"You're a grown man, Tomo. You can do this. Are you really going to let the possibility of mess affect you?"

He knew talking to himself was weird but it didn't matter. At last, he got out of the speckless car with his bag in one hand and phone in the other.

He tried to tune out any excessive noise, only hearing his own footsteps until the increasingly loud clicks of heels could be heard from behind him. Tomo slowed down, intending to turn around but the small woman ran passed him. A faint saint of roses intruded his nose. He quickly recognised her as his next door neighbour. She slowed down and swung open the glass door quickly but was polite enough to keep it open for the tall Japanese man behind her. He said nothing, sure that if he did, it wouldn't be acknowledged. However, he did get to hear the tail end of the receptionist greeting the young woman.

"...Duckie!"

Was all that he heard. So that was her name? It suited her though. It seemed that she hadn't gotten a car yet, instead walking to make up for the difference though this time she had been sprinting - showing through her clothes and hair being ruffled. It was his turn to talk to the receptionist,

"H-hey"

Damn it. He stuttered. Clearing his throat, he tried again,

"Hello, I'm Tomo Suzuki. I was hired here recently, is there somewhere Im supposed to be specifically?"

All he got in return was a blank stare from the woman in front of him. Pressing his lips together briefly, almost ready to speak once more but he was interrupted by her finally speaking.

"Ah.. New hire from Japan?"

She asked then nodded, seemingly answering her own question. Even if she sounded bored, he took no offence. Silence fell between the pair before she said something.

"Third floor. Door with the director on the name plate, should have your boss inside."

The loud clacks of her lengthy nails hitting the keyboard started up. Her unenthusiastic tone suited to bleak reception area. There wasn't much too it, a desk for her to work at, a couple couches that looked rather uncomfortable and firm.

He took a step back then stopped, staring at the double doors leading to the staircase then at the elevator. Which was cleaner? Elevators or stairs? Checking the stairs first resulted in the man scrunching up his nose. There were more overflowing rubbish bins that made him visibly cringe. The smell unsettled him too. Elevator it was, it seemed.

It was definitely smaller than he had expected but at least it he didn't have to slouch so much to avoid hitting the top of his head. Tomo fiddled with the hem of his silk glove again, repeating a small mantra for himself.

"Things are okay. I am okay. I have gloves. Things are okay. I am okay. I have gloves."

He muttered under his breath up until he heard the last ding, indicating that he arrived at the third floor. He stopped fiddling with the glove and let his hand drop to his side. Tomo fixed up his posture as he got out of the elevator, hoping that he hadn't just embarrassed himself by ending on the wrong floor. Despite it taking a while due to his constant hesitance, it didn't take him long to knock on the wooden door.

By the second knock, the door swung open. Tomo was met with a large black man, slightly shorter than he is with long locs tied back. He looked like the epitome of kindness despite his face being aged by stress. Tomo couldn't figure out his age but it's not like he was going to ask regardless. That would've been rude of him especially if he was his boss.

The room was somewhat cramped but fit in two mahogany desks, a midsized bookshelf and various drawers seemingly filled with various physical files. One desk was littered with flower themed stationery. The other desk was quite plain, not much taking up the space aside from the black stationary and a couple small family photos. Sitting at the flower desk was Duckie.

'Hm. Coincidence'

He thought to himself then turned his attention back to the man in front of him.

"Salutations!"

The black man first said. His voice was deep and sounded friendly too. It made him relax slightly but it wasn't visible.

"You're Mr Suzuki, yes? I remember your interview"

He held out his calloused hand for Tomo to shake. Hesitance filled him again but he shook his hand anyway. He was wearing gloves, it should be fine, right? The man had a firm grip, opposing his gentle smile. Lucio! That was his name. It was buried deep in his mind, seemingly buried underneath the piles of things he stressed over. The name on the plate helped too, with the mans first and last name.

"This is Ti-"

Lucio was cut off by the intense stare coming from Duckie.

"Duckie. My apologies"

"I've been here for as long as you have, Luci, and you still can't ge-"

It was her turn to be cut off but it was cut off by her short squeak as her head fell towards.

"-Get it right"

She continued. Her head tilted to the side as she got back to what she was doing.

"As I was saying, this is Duckie. We'll both be your boss but she won't always be in this room. It's temporary until the person she is replacing is completely gone"

Lucio explained. A noise of disgust came from Duckie,

"Replacing sounds mean. I didn't do it intentionally"

"T- Duckie. You gave him flowers as an apology"

She rolled her eyes. It wasn't one of her tics and Lucio could tell.

"Don't roll your eyes at me. We may be at the same level but I am still older than you"

Lucio scolded. He headed out with Tomo, taking him to his new desk. Lucio went through what he had to do to get set up properly, going on about training videos that he could access and where he could go for help.

The walk to his desk wasn't long but the tall duo manage to lengthen it with Lucio taking the time to explain things. The desk was bare aside from the basics; a computer with a keyboard, pot of pencils and a company notebook.

"Have fun!"

Lucio said and patted his back. Tomo suppressed expressing his cringe from the touch to try not offend his new boss. He could hear the man retreating to his office. After briefly staring at his other coworkers, he spent a couple minutes to sanitise his area then pushed the notebook into one of the equally bare drawers underneath his desk to collect dust. The minutes he spent lightly cleaning garnered a couple stares from his colleagues.

Work wasn't as bad as he thought it would be. Aside from his constant rearrangement of his desk, wanting to keep it speckless like he tried to keep everything else. Throughout the hours up until his lunch hour, he hadn't been bothered by anyone and he hadn't bothered others. Tomo was fully prepared to skip out on eating at lunch to avoid the massive crowd but that plan fell through when he heard the familiar sound of the Duckie's boots come towards him. He stared at her, saying nothing.

"You're my neighbour, aren't you? I remember seeing you three this morning, with your girls. They're both cute"

Duckie started out, earning a quiet thanks from him. Her hand hit the side of her hip then her collarbone.

"Well, want to have lunch with me? It'll be fun to be friends with a neighbour!"

The blonde offered.

'Miki did say I needed friends... hopefully this is a good start'

He thought then nodded in response. Tomo got out of his seat, easily towering over the girl.

"Dios mio, eres alto"

She stared up at him in surprise. They hadn't gotten so close to each other to really understand the difference between them. The midsized woman turned on her heel and headed towards the cafeteria, making sure he was coming with. Tomo had to slow down repeatedly after overtaking the woman.

The cafeteria was crowded, definitely more than he could handle. He should've brought his mask with him. His body tensed up at the thought of being so close to so many people at once, especially since they were all strangers.

"I'll pay! What would you like?"

She chirped before walking confidently into the crowd. He opened up his mouth to say something but she was gone as soon as her sentence finished. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he mustered up the courage to head into the mass to get her. He gingerly took small steps which eventually lead to the woman who was happily chatting away with a coworker like she hadn't essentially ditched him. It really didn't take her long to be spotted with her fruity blouse and black blindfold that matched her high waisted black pants and boots. Even if it wasn't his intention, he had intimidated the coworker into cutting their conversation short and leaving.

"There you are! Why didn't you come with me?"

She spun around to face the Japanese man.

"I.. don't like crowds"

He admitted with a mild blush dusting his cheeks. It was almost unnoticeable, enough that she didn't mention it. Confusion etched itself onto her face before it turned into recognition.

"Oh! Are you a germaphobe?"

She asked, earning a shrug from him. Tomo changed the subject and picked out some food for himself. He didn't want to pick too much i. case it turned out to be expensive.

"Wait over by the entrance. I'll meet you there"

She directed after counting her money in Spanish. Tomo felt relieved that he could finally escape from the lines. Too many people for him. 10 minutes later, Duckie joined him and handed the food over. She took the lead again to find a quiet spot for them to eat at. The pair ended up by a wooden bench with various flower beds along the bath. There was the occasional passer by that neither acknowledged.

"Is this place okay?"

He simply nodded.

"A man of few words, hm? That's fine!"

Tomo let her talk. It was easier than doing it himself. While he was eating, he mostly listened to her talk about flowers. It was rather interesting even if he wasn't going to use the information. Maybe his kids will like the facts?

Duckie was frequently interrupted by her squeaks or the sound of her hand hitting parts of her body. He was certainly curious but he couldn't tell what to ask in case it was too rude. Thankfully, she noticed the blatant staring.

"Is it about what I'm doing?"

"Yes. Are you sick?"

"I'm not sick.. probably. It's just tics but no proper diagnosis. To be honest, I'm afraid of going in case I get immediately dismissed by the specialist."

"What are tics?"

"Hmm.."

She started, trying to figure out how to explain it.

"Chronic, involuntary movements or noises. I think that's part of the definition. I've had it since I was 14 so many years of this"

She shrugged and threw her rubbish away.

Lunch wasn't long but it was enough for Duckie to consider him a friend. Tomo didn't often contribute to the conversation but he did listen.

"Thanks for staying with me!"

She happily exclaimed, followed up by a squeak.

"We should hang out outside of work! There's a cafe I like going to, it's not too crowded during the morning and afternoon"

He stared at her in return as she got up, heading off to wherever she was needed. Duckie seemed to speed walk wherever she wanted to go. Tomo didn't rush, not like he needed to anyway with his long legs. He threw away his trash in the emptiest bin he could find to avoid touching anything he deemed gross.

He was a little late when he got back to his desk. A minute or two at most. He wasn't as tense as he was this morning but there seemed to be no change in how he carried himself.

It was inching closer to the end of his daughters' school and the start of an after school club each joined. They were used to doing after school activities and they wanted to keep it up but Tomo let them choose the club this time. Kyoko chose for them, picking the ones that gave them the best option to be out of the house the longest. It meant nothing since Tomo had to pick them up to come home to an empty home and missing cash.

Once he checked the time, he stood up - fast enough for the chair to roll back a metre or two. He apologised and moved the chair back then collected his things. He notified his bosses anyway, even if he had talked about it during the online interview. He was more than thankful that the job was flexible with his timings.

The drive over to the school wasn't too far and he managed to arrive on time. Tomo decided on parking further away to avoid any crowd. His kids were understanding enough to not question him about it yet. He joined the group of parents, talking in between themselves as they waited for their kids to come out. Aoi came first since her club was shorter.

"Hi daddy! My teacher is really nice! I like the club. I think I made a friend too!'

She started to talk, lightly tugging on his pant leg. It usually meant that she wanted a piggy back. Tomo crouched down and let her climb up while holding onto her bag in his hand. Aoi continued to talk about her day while they waited for Miki to come. The next club was let out, his other daughter in the crowd of children. She was quiet and held out her hand, wanting it to be held. His concern wasn't too obvious though it did start to grow when she stood close by with her grip on his hand tightening. Miki usually wasn't that affectionate in public while Aoi was the complete opposite. Aoi's talking filled up the silence on the walk back to the car. It was nice to hear her happy chatter instead of silence from her.

He carefully placed them down and made sure they were both buckled up before he was starting to drive home.

"Do either of you have homework to do?"

A 'No' came from the both of them.

"Mmm, wanna help daddy cook tonight?"

Another no.

"Can we play hair dresser?"

Miki meekly asked. Tomo thought for a moment then nodded. He was going to move any sharp objects further from them so neither child decided to give him a physical haircut. Despite his hatred of messes, it was common to see him putting up with it for the sake of having fun with his kids.

[brinconvenient]

Dear cis friends who are dying to get my perspective on the latest trans story you heard in the news:

Before you read further, please know that I applaud your curiosity and your attempt to be aware of trans issues in the media.

But.

But, just because your friend is trans doesn't mean that she's qualified to answer (or interested in doing so for that matter) any trans-related question you may have. Especially on topics which are hot in the news - the reason so many trans topics are in the news and coming to your attention is because we are being targeted and used as a wedge issue by conservative and far-right groups in an effort to gin up energy and excitement to get their voters to the polls.

After they lost big on the same-sex marriage equality issue, they turned their attention to a more vulnerable and less protected group and began aiming all of their attention, marketing budgets and legislative resources squarely at us.

Since 2015, we have seen bills trying to keep us out of public bathrooms and locker rooms, bill after bill targeting our access to healthcare, identification, name change processes and court case after court case trying to enshrine the right to discriminate against us in housing, employment and public life based on someone else's religious beliefs and, of course, an administration that seems to be specifically trying to erase us from public existence and public service.

All of this is helped along through their friends in the media "just asking questions" - ones that usually have nuanced and complex (but not difficult to understand) answers. Which they don't care about, of course, because asking the question is enough.

The goal is to get you to ask these questions, too. And just the asking puts enough cognitive distance between you, a cis person, and trans people to create the "otherness" in your mind that they can use to justify our continued dehumanization. It also forces us to repeatedly have these same conversations, over and over and over again.

I have answered the exact same questions over and over again for old high school or college classmates, coworkers, random internet acquaintances, who heard someone talking about an issue they have never cared about before, but suddenly need to know the answers to.

Lately, for example, it's been trans teen athletes. Before that it was trans people in bathrooms and locker rooms and why trans people want to serve in the military and why employers shouldn't be able to let an employee up for wanting to transition.

Most of the time, I put in the work to answer those questions because I know you all mean well. And you want to know the answers to what sound like very reasonable questions and you're trying to be good allies.

Each one tied me up for days with follow-up after follow-up after follow-up. And tired me out because I had to do all the research they could have done, but chose not to do, to become at least a middling expert so that they were satisfied with hearing the answers from the one trans person they knew, instead of reading the numerous articles from actual experts and actual trans experts who have already been writing about this since this particular boil began to fester on the general public's collective posterior.

Did you stop to ask yourself why you thought I might have, given my current life circumstances, any valuable knowledge about trans teenage athletes, let alone the finer points of high school athletics regulations? Or whether I've done any research about two specific trans teenaged athletes halfway across the country from her, who happen to be the media's bugbear and the target of a lawsuit from cis competitors? Other than the fact that I'm the one trans person you know?

For the record, trans women do not have any special advantage over cis women, under most current regulation schema. Do you think that it's possible that the high school athletics organization which regulates those two particular athletes are completely unaware of their existence and are simply waiting on enough curious cis people to "just ask reasonable questions" before they consult the science and those girls' specific situation?

Have you considered how many trans athletes must exist and how you're only hearing about a handful of specific trans teen athletes who happen to be winning. Are you not concerned about trans athletes as long as they have the decency to lose to their cis competition?

Trans people have been allowed to compete in the Olympics since 2002 (I believe). Do you want to guess how many trans people have even qualified for the Olympics? Exactly 1, maybe. One trans man qualified, just last month, to try to make the Olympic team this summer. Zero trans women in *ANY* Olympic event have ever qualified. Ever.

And trans people are not new to athletics. We've competed in just about any event you can imagine.

I might be the only trans person you know, but you are not the only curious cis person I know. Consider that before deciding that my specific perspective is required for you to find some way to be comfortable learning that other trans people exist in situations you didn't previously know, think, or, frankly, care about before now.

Please understand that it is a terrifying and exhausting time to be a trans person in this society. We have an enormous target on our backs. None of that is helped by our cis friends asking us to help justify, identify and isolate the pockets of public life where it's reasonable to exclude us and discriminate against us.

We are roughly 1% of the population. Roughly equivalent to natural redheads. There's zero conversations about how natural redheads higher pain tolerance might give them some kind of athletic advantage over their competition in endurance sports.

But then, there's also no well-financed movement trying to legislatively, morally and socially ensure that you see them as a lesser form of human so that they can hold onto their political power.

When you see these stories, and your curiosity starts to churn, ask yourself these questions before you reach out to your trans friends:

1. What is this article/story/column trying to make me feel about trans people?

2. Does it rely on treating trans people as an "other"/less than human/oppressive in order to make me feel that?

3. Does it actually provide information, an opposing view and sources for its assertions or is it relying on your lack of knowledgeand expertise to create an emotional reaction?

4. Is there another article on this topic that might have more information? Has someone written a response to this article (often found by googling the headline)?

5. Does this article/story/column quote from a trans person who is not the target of the article (i.e. an expert source, not the subject of the article)? Does it even contain a quote from the subject of the article or only from those who oppose them? What have other trans people said about this story?

6. Is the writer a reliable journalist or columnist? What is the bias of the publication/media source?

7. Who benefits from this being in the media right now?

8. What emotional impact will this have on my trans friend if I ask her about it without thinking about any of these previous questions?

Please continue to feel free to ask me your questions about transness, but also please try to ask Google first, especially if it's about a news article about some new fun way that trans people are being targeted, or cis people finding novel ways to feel oppressed by our audacity to exist near them.

Please take some time to consider what emotional impact it might have on me to hold your hand through another conversation that requires me to defend the humanity and dignity of trans people. Don't ask me to make you feel comfortable with discrimination against trans people, no matter how reasonable it sounds.

[whetstonefires]

I’ve decided I can’t healthily reblog that one Jason post again, for everyone’s sanity, but op’s most recent reblog was both highly illuminating and infuriating--and I mean that on two different levels; there was some really good explication of perspective and how we’re missing each other in the dark, but there was also more of the stuff that drives me out of my skull.

So, I’m going to make my own post, which can be engaged with at will, rather than coming right to op’s house.

-

So, as I’ve mentioned, my biggest issue with a lot of a specific subtype of Jason arguments is they devolve really quickly into the insistence that he is owed anything by anyone in his family besides Bruce.

He’s not. That is just so, so incredibly important to me.

I want to talk about why, but I’m not going to because it’s way too in-depth and personally triggering a subject for me to fit a full breakdown here or to risk having it brushed off, so I’m leaving it as a strong assertion of personal opinion. Maybe I’ll come back to it at some point.

More germane to the inciting reblog...I also don’t think they, the batfam (specifically the batboys because DC never let the girls in on the game despite how much they should have, probably because no matter whether they got beat up or successfully deescalated, they’d ruin the dramafest by tipping Jason’s arc out of its toxic loop) could have helped him by approaching him in a ‘better’ way.

Partly because they did try--people will dismiss that as not counting because it ‘seemed manipulative’ but like. That’s not only textbook abuser excuse language to tell someone that doing exactly what they wanted still deserved punishment, there is literally no way people with no existing positive relationship could approach someone whose incredibly toxic behavior they are morally obligated to prioritize changing without coming across as having an agenda? How were they meant to possibly avoid that?

Especially when he had already approached them with violence and not signaled any intent to stop, so it would be insane to have their guard totally down?

(Like. Even Bruce being given actually good writing would have been pretty cornered into either physically containing or emotionally attempting to persuade him into doing a different thing, and that’s Bruce.)

But mostly they couldn’t have gotten different results with a different approach because they were his triggers. Their presence made everything worse. It provoked episodes. There was nothing they could have done differently to get a better response, because one of the most reliable triggers for his mental health issues and violent coping mechanisms is the batfam.

Is Batman and Robin. (Or was, in the relevant window. He’s mostly going by a different playbook since Flashpoint.)

Precisely by being his family, they were rendered incapable of giving him what the Outlaws eventually did, if you treat preboot and nu52 as being in the same continuity, no matter what they did or said.

Which all the more means that every assertion that the family (minus Bruce, because of some shitty drama-seeking bullshit that I hate but it’s canon so people who like it have the right to use it as they wish) treated him badly, and should have treated him better and then things would have been better...

Always sounds to me like an exercise in victim blaming.

Rich with what would be gaslighting, if it was said to rather than about them.

Which in turn triggers the fuck out of me, though luckily unlike Jason I just get passive-aggressive on the internet by accident, rather than stabbing people in the chest for saying no to me and waiting for their heartbeats to stop, and then grinning real big.

-

And that moment of drama I just called back to ties into another really important reason that, in spite of how much I love him, pro-Jason arguments in this mode just fuck me up, one that doesn’t connect to my personal hangups.

Which is how this approach tends to argue for Jason being entitled to the utmost gentleness and care and respect for his needs, and opportunities to change without being coerced or contained or shamed or accused, and...

But will turn around and in the same breath brush away him murdering criminals as a well-intentioned action to improve the world, out of concern for the harm they might do him or others, even if it maybe isn’t necessarily right.

Will treat his crimes as details that have no real bearing on how people ‘should’ react to him. ‘Should’ being defined wholly in terms of his experience of the world.

Dude not only takes hostage and violently assaults Robin and shoots a ten-year-old near the heart, he slaughters low-level drug dealers and mob enforcers, people who are just small cogs in a machine whose evil only very arguably exceeds that of extraction capitalism, who in the former case may not have committed any violent crimes themselves ever in their lives.

People who have families and dreams and mental health conditions and traumas of their own.

He murdered everyone eating in Blackgate cafeteria and Blackgate isn’t some special, murderers-only facility with no, like, weed possession felons, for example. Even if it was, some of the other convicted murderers probably had worse childhoods and less control of their trauma-driven violent episodes than Jason.

Some of those people he kills might have lived in the same alleys as him at the same time, and the break they got to get out of there was a job in organized crime, rather than an adoption offer from a millionaire, and later a training subsidy from an assassin princess.

And somehow we are meant to be comfortable accepting that they deserve death. All of them. Somehow intervening non-lethally to prevent him from killing more of them is framed as a moral cruelty roughly equal to his personal, targeted assaults on children. His right to not be forcibly remanded to mental health treatment outweighs their right to live.

Because. They’re just. Scum.

And this, to me, represents a willingness to disregard the human rights of some people, while at the same time elevating the individual rights of some other person above every other moral good.

And that, on principle, upsets the hell out of me.

Where is their pity, their extenuating circumstances? Their acknowledgment that violence and rejection is not the answer to someone’s trauma-driven coping strategies?

How can ‘criminals’ be grounds enough to sacrifice people’s right to exist, while Jason--a serial killer and mass murderer both by any measure--deserves not only life and liberty but every good and kind thing? How can both these ideas exist together in the same space?

I can’t do it. I can’t make any sense out of it at all. For Jason to be more sinned against than sinning in relation to his family--to have had the right to be met with endless gentleness and patience rather than ever violently opposed or rejected, even leaving aside his personal treatment of them--the lives of those who commit violent, criminal acts must be disposable things. Easily traded away.

But then by that same cruel metric he, too, becomes a disposable person.

And I do not believe in throwing people away.

[a-singleboat]

Smosh Family Feud

WORD COUNT: 1805

A/N: so, i’m uploading this from mobile and will get back to format it asap when i get home on Tuesday morning!

You glared into the sun from your post next to Noah and Lasercorn. It was getting cooler as the hours clicked on, but the setting sun seemed to be taunting you. It was saying that this day would end and another would have to take its place. On any other day, you’d be fine with it. Today, however, the sun was a timer and it was ticking down how much longer you guys had outside before you had to wrap filming for the day.

You forced your gaze away from the sun in time to see Sarah bounce over to stand in the middle between the two groups. You refocused on your podium and took note of the person counting down behind the camera.

“Smosh Summer Games: Apocalypse!”

Lasercorn made a comment loud enough for his mic to pick it up, sending you into a small fit of giggles. You poked his cheek, a smile gracing your lips, “Old man Corn.”

He swatted your hand away, sounds of protest coming from his mouth.

“Today, we are playing Smosh Family Feud,” Sarah announced, pausing for the several whoops that were let out by the cast. “It’s gonna get nasty, it’s gonna get a little shady and we’re gonna spill all the tea.”

Sarah explained the rules of the game, which was more for the viewers than it was for us. You looked off to Toxicitea’s side, furrowing your eyebrows at what Ian and Joven were up to. They both had their foreheads pressed together while making running movements but moving nowhere.

Sarah explained the punishment, a Holi Powder Slap to the face from the opposite team. You squished your face between your two hands and pouted. A Holi Powder Slap was the last thing you needed.

Soon enough, the first question was asked. Sarah turned to us and proclaimed that we would receive the first question.

“Don’t let us down, Court!” you called, shooting her a supportive thumbs up. “You got this, I love you!”

She glared at you before dropping the mean look and giving you a cheesy grin. “Love you too!”

“My first question to team Mushroom Clout is, we’re gonna start out a little soft,” Sarah glanced down at her cards. “Who on your team would die first during the apocalypse?”

You bit your thumb before scribbling down your answer and flipping your board over.

Sarah asked for Damien’s answer first.

“Love you, Courtney, but Court!”

Courtney took offense to that, playing up her reactions for the camera. She threw her hands up and fell onto her podium in semi-defeat.

Keith’s answer came next, working down the line until it reached you.

“I’m so sorry, but I put Damien,” you flipped your board for the camera to see. You put up your hands in self-defense, rocking back slightly, “But only because I feel like he’d go back for someone or he’d make the sacrifice play for his friends!”

“No yeah, that makes sense,” Shayne shouted from the opposite end of the line. “Damien would one-hundred percent make the sacrifice play.”

The votes were tallied up as one for Courtney, one for Keith, one for Damien, and two for Noah.

“So, Courtney, who did you think would die first in an apocalypse?”

Courtney whipped around to look at Damien. “First of all,” she started, “Damien, I am hurt. I would kill it in the apocalypse. But, you know I picked the person, the only person who doesn’t have a driver’s license.”

She flipped her board to reveal Keith’s name written down. You clapped politely and stood quietly for the opposing team to take their turn. By now, the sun was on a steady decline downwards and you could see the golden hour coming into play.

The next question for your team was, “Who on your team has the worst style?”

You looked at each person individually before your eyes settled on Lasercorn. You sent him an apologetic look before quickly jotting his name down. The votes for this round ended up being five votes for Lasercorn.

“I’m sorry, dad, but have you seen what you’ve decided to wear today?”

Lasercorn looked down at his outfit and motioned wide. “What’s wrong with my outfit?”

You turned and pointed at the camera, “Nothing! Hashtag Rep Mushroom Clout!”

“Wait, no, don’t change the subject. What’s wrong with my outfit?”

“I don’t know, dad. You tell me!” You used that bit to garner a few laughs before hugging it out with your Smosh dad. You both refocused on Damien at the guessing booth and crossed your fingers in anticipation for Damien’s answer.

“Real quick,” Damien said. “Noah, your style is wacky weird. And like good is subjective, you know? And Lasercorn wears a lot of video game shirts, I wear a lot of video game shirts.”

Your eyes widened at what Damien was implying. “Damien, tell me you didn’t!”

“No, you’re right I didn’t. But I did put Lasercorn down.”

The whole group came together at Damien’s words, screaming and generally being crazy. Courtney beelined for you and snuck a kiss onto your cheek. You instantly felt your face heat up at the content and hid bashfully behind your hands.

You watched Wes get voted as least funniest for their group, though he was okay with that. The round wrapped up with Toxicitea in the lead, ten to six. The odds were not looking so good for Lasercorn’s streak.

“Alright, Mushroom Clout’s turn,” Sarah whipped out her cards again and flipped to the next question. “Who on your team would ditch you guys to hang out with a celebrity?”

“Well, you know he’s really just one of my best friends but I feel like sometimes he’s just way too cool for me,” you flipped your board to reveal Keith’s name. “Keith, I love you and I know you would never intentionally hurt me or anyone else like that, but if Michael Jackson came back to life specifically for you, you wouldn’t say no.”

By the end of the voting, the points had rallied up as four for Keith and one for Courtney.

“This has really given me some time to self reflect, but at the same time,” Keith pointed at you. “My homegirl, Y/n knows me too well, I would leave y’all motherfuckers in a heartbeat to hang at the Jackson’s house.”

The way that the votes swung put both teams on equal ground, and it stayed like that for basically the whole time, forcing a tiebreaker round to be played.

“It’s time for the tiebreaker,” Sarah announced. “This question is for everyone on the cast. Who out of everyone-two people-do you think has the best ship?”

You contemplated for a moment before jotting down Shayne and Courtney’s names, thinking that besides from you and Courtney, those two would be an obvious choice. The only reason you didn’t put yourself was that you and Courtney haven’t really told the fans about your relationship, wanting to let it flourish without any outside input.

Courtney’s final answer proved your thinking right she revealed her answer to be herself and Shayne.

Toxicitea all voted, two for Iancorn, Two for Shourtney, and one for Ian and Anthony. Ian flipped his own board, revealing Shourtney as his answer. As Toxicitea celebrated their win, Matt Raub called you off to the side. He handed you the box that you had asked him to hold onto before this video’s shooting and gave you a thumbs up. “We’ve stopped shooting for now so you could do this.”

You thanked Matt before slowly walking back over to your podium. If you did this, there would be no going back, no matter the answer though you hoped it to be yes. You blinked, running your fingers over the soft velvet of the case and making up your mind. You put the box behind you, tucking it into your waistband, and marched over to where Sarah stood.

“Okay, while Shayne and Courtney was the winning choice, I have something to say.” Celebrations stopped in their place as curiosity overtook the group.

“Listen, Courtney and I have been together for a little over a year and a half but we’ve known each other since we were both Smosh babies.” You held out your hand to your girlfriend and she walked over and took it. You squeezed her hand tightly in your own. “We may both just be two women of Smosh, but right now, I am a woman about to ask the love of her life a very important question.”

You bent down on one knee and pulled the box out from your waistband. “My grandmother gave me this ring right before she passed and told me that I’d know what to do with it. And now that I’m on my knees in front of you, I know I’ve made the right choice.”

Courtney started to cry, all attempts to stop the tears failed as more kept coming. 

“Courtney Ruth Miller, will you marry me?”

“Yes!” She pulled you up from your kneeling position and pulled you in for a kiss. The two of you separated long enough for you to slide the ring onto her finger before you were kissing again. All your friends cheered in the background, Joven going as far as to shout, “Get it, Y/n!”

Courtney laughed and pulled away and walked over to Ian, pulling him up to you. “So, get this though, Y/n,” Courtney held out her hand to Ian who had pulled out a near-identical box that was the same save for the color.

You watched as she got down on one knee. “I’ll only be accepting your proposal if you accept mine!”

Your friends started to scream in excitement, the two teams merging together. You laughed at the hilarity of it all before pulling her up and kissing her once more. “Of course, I’ll marry you.”

Courtney slipped the ring onto your finger and you both held up your hands, showing off the rings to your friends.

Eventually, Matt Raub had to intervene so that the punishment could be filmed while there was still sunlight out. After getting slapped by Olivia, you stumbled off to the side to blink out any holi powder that may have gotten into your eye, even if you were told it was safe.

Once everyone had been slapped, you found your way to Courtney’s side to watch Lasercorn tackle Ian after his slap.

“You know, people are gonna comment on our rings and we haven’t been public at all with our relationship.”

“Well then, I think it’s time we were.” Courtney kissed the side of your head. “Maybe a wedding planning video or a wedding dress shopping vlog.”

“I think that that would be an amazing idea.”

A /N: part two is a possibility with the “wedding footage”

ALSO; reminder that the red light green light survey is still up until tonight!

RED LIGHT GREEN LIGHT IS NO LONGER OPEN, BUT 8/1′S SURVEY IS

[in-flagrante]

ALL CHANGE With Michelle Dockery

Best known as Downton Abbey’s indelible Lady Mary, MICHELLE DOCKERY effortlessly transitions from haughty aristocrat to corrupt cockney in Guy Ritchie’s new gangster movie, The Gentlemen. LAURA CRAIK talks to the British star about her working-class roots, embracing a golden age of opportunities for female actors and why working with Ritchie, Matthew McConaughey, Hugh Grant and her idol Jeremy Strong was a dream come true

Michelle Dockery is about as different from Downton Abbey’s Lady Mary as is imaginable. Dressed in Totême boyfriend jeans, white Adidas trainers and a black cashmere turtleneck, she is warm, effusive and quick to laugh where Lady Mary is frosty and composed, and she has an accent not dissimilar to Victoria Beckham’s. “It may come as a bit of a shock to everyone when I open my mouth in the film,” she smiles.

“The film” is The Gentlemen, a classic gangster caper written and directed by Guy Ritchie in a return to the genre that first made him famous. “Charlie [Hunnan, one of Dockery’s co-stars] is calling The Gentlemen ‘vintage Ritchie’, and I think that’s right,” she says of the British director behind Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels and Snatch. “I play Rosalind, who is the wife of Matthew McConaughey’s character, Mickey,” Dockery explains. “He has these marijuana farms that are growing underneath stately homes, hence the title The Gentlemen.”

Marijuana farms? What would Carson say? Dockery laughs. After six years playing Lady Mary Crawley in Downton Abbey– first in the well-loved TV series (which has won 15 Emmys and been watched by an estimated 270m people worldwide) and latterly in the movie – her role in The Gentlemen was a great departure for the 38-year-old British actress. “Rosalind runs a car dealership, which she’s inherited through her family. She’s a real, tough, east-London girl. I grew up in Essex, and my family has a sort of east-London background, so it was great to step into that world.”

To say the cast of The Gentlemen is “stellar” is an understatement: in addition to Dockery, McConaughey and Hunnam, the movie stars Hugh Grant (who plays equally against type and appears as a corrupt and predatory reporter), Colin Farrell, Henry Golding, and Jeremy Strong, most recently seen as the troubled Kendall Roy in HBO’s Succession – of which Dockery is a huge fan. “I mean, this whole interview could be about Succession,” she laughs. “It’s absolutely brilliant, the best thing on TV. Every single character is Shakespearean. I loved working with Jeremy. We only had one scene together, a dinner-party scene, and I would never have seen his character the way he played it. He was a joy to watch, and worlds away from Kendall.”

Working with Ritchie – and the laugh-a-minute, largely male cast – was, Dockery says, a dream. “There’s one scene where I arrive at my garage, and Guy wanted to add a bit of dialogue, just off the cuff. I had to be on my toes, and I really enjoyed that. So often, when I’m working, the process is very much word for word, and on this film it was malleable. It was liberating.” She also relished collaborating with Ritchie on Rosalind’s look. “Even though Rosalind works in a garage, I get to wear the most beautiful Balmain jumpsuit, and the first scene is me walking into the garage in a pair of Louboutins, which is hilarious. Rosalind has clearly worked her way up to where she is, really enjoys the lifestyle and having money, but still wants to work. I love that about her character, that she still gets her hands dirty.”

Dockery says she is happy with the quality of roles she has been offered in her career (she graduated from London’s Guildhall School of Music & Drama in 2004), while being aware that, in the past, female actors have lamented the paucity of fully rounded female characters. “I do feel I stepped into this industry at a time when things were really beginning to change, especially for women. It’s the golden age of television, where creators have the luxury of writing 10 hours as opposed to just two, so there’s room to explore a character in greater depth. It’s now becoming much more normal to start a job or to read a part and for me to have a dialogue with the creators – if there are moments where it’s felt the female character is not involved, for example – whereas I guess in the past, it would have felt like more of a fight.”

Does she have any aspirations to write or direct herself? She laughs. “I do think about, you know, doing other things. Right now, I’m not sure exactly what, but…” she tails off, laughing. The glint in her eye suggests she has something in the pipeline

After a six-month stint in Boston, where she was filming Defending Jacob, a harrowing miniseries about a family whose lives are torn apart after the death of a boy at their son’s school (“it’s not a comedy,” she notes wryly), she is very much enjoying being home in north London, where she lives close to her two sisters (Dockery is the youngest of three). “It’s a cozy time of year to be home,” she smiles, nursing a cup of tea. “It’s great catching up with friends and family – and, because I travel a lot for work, every time I come back to London, I appreciate it much more. Recently a friend came over from LA and we went to the Antony Gormley exhibition. It took my breath away.”

Can she walk around London fairly anonymously? “Yes, more so here than in America. But that’s the thing with our culture. Brits are too cool to approach you, but in America people have more confidence to come over and say something. It still takes me very much by surprise, but it goes in waves. When the Downton film came out, it peaked again.”

She laughs as she explains that she can never tell who’s going to be a Downton fan. “I got into a cab a little while ago, and the driver was this big, burly Guy Ritchie type. ‘Where you going, love?’ he said. And then it went a bit quiet. And then he was like, ‘You alright?’ And I was like, ‘Yeah, yeah,’ and told him about my day. And he suddenly went, ‘Shame about your sister in season 3.’ And I just laughed out loud. People really surprise me sometimes.”

Would she say she’s an introvert or an extrovert? “I’m an introvert.” Although not the stay-at-home type. “I do like to go out and dance. For me, it’s not a night out unless I’m on the dance floor. Every couple of months, I just need to dance; have one of those… dance-y nights.”

Her interest in fashion is modest rather than craven. “I love clothes but can be ignorant of certain designers. I like supporting young ones coming up.” She’s also what she calls “a coat girl”, with more coats than shoes. But her most cherished possession is a St Christopher necklace her mom gave her. “It comes everywhere with me. I’ve had it for 15 or 20 years.” She recently started donating her old clothes to Smart Works, a British charity of which the Duchess of Sussex is a patron, which helps unemployed women get back to work. “They’ve got all my skinny jeans.”

Our time being almost over, I finish with the question few subjects want to answer. Is she in love at the moment? She laughs and draws an imaginary zip across her mouth. The line of enquiry is especially sensitive as Dockery’s fiancé, Irishman John Dineen, passed away in 2015. She is now rumored to be dating Jasper Waller-Bridge, brother of the feted Phoebe, creator of Fleabag and Killing Eve. If this is true, perhaps we’ll see her in a comedy soon? “There are things on the back burner, but I can’t say,” she says. Then, in a quick flash of Lady Mary, she concludes with a polite, “Thank you so much. It’s been really lovely.”

The Gentlemen is released on January 1, 2020

[beginagainbugle]

An Essay in Response to "On Diplomacy: A Manifesto by Magneto" & the newly Ratified Accords

The Daily Bugle received this letter only a day after Secretary Ross and Agent Ross announced the new amendments to the Accords. It seems not everyone appreciates the olive branch – and money – thrown their way. But we’re an honest source of news here at the Bugle! We’d be remiss if we didn’t show you this shocking story just as we received it! – J. Jonah Jameson

First and foremost, I feel the need to start off by quoting an old friend of mine. Several weeks ago, an anonymous source delivered quite the message from him and his words were as follows:

There are those amongst us who believe that diplomacy is the answer to the conflict between mutants and humans. I regret to say that there can be no diplomacy.  Diplomacy and negotiation are predicated on the very simple idea that two opposing parties have some measure of equality; that one can offer something to the other and gain something in turn.  Further, both parties must have a degree of respect for the other party, something that will hold them to account for any agreement reached.

There is no equality, and there is no respect…

I ignored his speech because I know him. We never agree on anything these days and even if I hope to reason with him, nothing I say will ever change how he feels about you people. The two of us — and I mean not to sound boastful — but we have been tasked with leading a sizable amount of mutants with each group strongly believing in one idea or the other. In Magneto’s case, I refer back to the quotes above and in my case, I have always given you a lot more credit than you probably deserve. My ideals and the ideals of many who look to me as their leader, all revolve around finding a peaceful means to end the conflict that you started between those with ‘gifts’ and those without. I am the person he refers to in his point about diplomacy.

However Mr. Secretary, if I am to be completely honest, my old friend has a point. It almost pains me to agree with him on anything these days because in order to see his side of the coin, that means I must face the reality that my ideals fall on deaf ears sometimes. I had hoped it would not come to this; that I wouldn’t have to leave the shadows and safety of the school I protect in order to speak on the hypocrisy within the propaganda you keep shoving down the American people’s throats, but it would seem you have left me no choice in the matter. Let us begin…

Agent Ross starts his foray into this shameless propaganda that means to justify discrimination of mutants and those like us by offering a rather smooth, backhanded compliment ——as if he has ever been in the presence of a mutant as opposed to the heroes he/they once hailed that are the primary reason for these Accords in the first place.

“There are those among us who have incredible gifts. Dangerous gifts. A brave new world.”

Dangerous, Agent Ross? Our ‘gifts’ are incredible, but dangerous? We do not need your backhanded compliments. Call it what it is. You all think that we are something to be feared and leading your speech with such nonsense is an insult to our intelligence. Your words are but a subtle jab; a way to incite fear into average person, but I digress. There’s more, my fellow mutants.

“The secretary says that I’m ‘uniquely qualified,’ because I’ve seen it. Not because of my training or my expertise. Not because of the missions I’ve flown or the lives I’ve saved. But because I was there, when Superheroes fought. And I gotta tell you –” He laughed again. “It’s amazing.”

Just what exactly have you seen Agent Ross that uniquely qualifies you to speak on behalf of mutants? Aside from Dr. Banner ( a special case I will not dive into today ), how many mutants have you seen up close? How many have you actually met in person and conversed with in some lengthy form? How many have you seen in combat against ‘your kind’? One experience with a bunch of heroes that — at one time — could freely walk the streets without being persecuted does not make you uniquely qualified to do anything on our behalf. All the people have is your word on your experience, but who’s to say your word wasn’t fabricated for a moment such as this?

You go on to describe what you saw in Wakanda as a beautiful dance that left normal people in awe of what you were witnessing. You practically ooze saccharine as it pertains to our unique abilities but then you swing the hammer in such a way backwards that I have to wonder if my hope is wasted on the likes of you homo sapiens.

“…the dance has to end… the dancers have to come offstage, and into the audience…. We have to learn how to share that world. It needs to be safe for everyone who lives here.”

Agent Ross… Mr. Secretary, it is rare that I read something that isn’t written by Magneto and feel the need to react harshly, but this is one of those times I cannot let your unfairness go unaddressed. I will not reduce myself to inciting a war you all cannot win, but I will say this:

You claim that the ultimate goal of these Accords is so that we can all share the world and feel safe while doing it, but what you fail to understand is that we mutants have wanted this all along. Not the Accords, but the permission to live among you as regular people. We all bleed the same thing Mr. Secretary, but I cannot help but point out the hypocrisy of your words. Furthermore, who are you to tell those with gifts they were born with to ‘get off the stage’, as if this stage was one many mutants asked for. Even IF we register; take off the masks and reveal our locations to you day and night, what are we truly accomplishing here? Registering our names won’t make anyone feel any safer. All this does is allow you easy access to us. Should you decide in your next speech that the best thing for the entire world is to eliminate those pesky dancers then we are but sitting ducks — something I hope has never even crossed your mind.

Persecuting people… telling the public that we’re all dangerous mutants that need to be put in check is not how you make the world a better place. You hardly know us, Mr. Secretary. You’ve never once sat down with us nor taken the time to reach out and actually educate yourself about what you are truly dealing with.You are operating on assumptions; using your irritation at the Avengers for costing you billions of dollars by assuming all of us are exactly the same. 

Not all of us are like my old friend. A vast majority of us are living every single moment alone and in fear; fear of you and the world that continues finding ways to paint us out as horrible people. Instead of trying to find common ground that does not include throwing us in holding cells for not bending to your will, you and Mr. Stark — who likely hasn’t met many mutants either — decided that we needed to be checked; never mind the fact that most of us haven’t done a single thing to deserve this treatment except exist in a world that has never taken kindly to anything different. My mutants are not suiting up everyday fighting aliens on your behalf. We’re not costing you billions or embarrassing you on national televisions with our heroics. The true embarrassment is you, Mr. Secretary.

“We made these rules for one reason, and one reason only. To prevent terrible intentions from becoming unbearable realities.”

What intentions do you speak of? Even though I do not know the Avengers well enough to speak on their behalf, I think it’s safe to assume that all they’ve ever done is use their abilities on behalf of humanity. I’ve never met Captain America but of all the Avengers, I admire him the most. Not only did he help save your sorry hides from an alien invasion, but he walked away with no bloodshed after the very people who made him turned their backs on him. If that is how you treat one of your own, I shudder to think how you would treat people like us. Speaking of us and your so-called rules…

All persons born or naturalized in the United States, and subject to the jurisdiction thereof, are citizens of the United States and of the State wherein they reside. No State shall make or enforce any law which shall abridge the privileges or immunities of citizens of the United States; nor shall any State deprive any person of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor deny to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws. —Article 14; the US Constitution

The rules of governing citizens as stated in the Constitution apply to all and we mutants have never questioned it. Many of us walk the straight and narrow; we obey the laws despite being forced to remain in the shadows due to the prejudices you keep pumping into the media. A majority of us have never broken any of the laws and on the off-chance you happen to catch an occasional rule breaker, it’s often because of something your people have done first. Left unprovoked, we go about our business. When provoked, well… 

My point is that despite the clear violation of the Constitution that these Accords are in direct opposition of, we mutants carry on anyway with the hope that things will change for the better. Your latest stunt does nothing but further HIS argument — that you not only see us as monsters, but as something other than rightful citizens who are awarded the same protections by the Constitution as everyone else. Yet you extend a hand to us as if things are going to magically change with the signing of our names yet in the same breath, we are to be taken by deadly force if necessary; killed, chained or even locked away without any kind of trial if we oppose you.

And if I am mistaken and by rules you meant the Accords, then I must sincerely apologize. The rules placed in society are meant to be followed if the government and the people governed are meant to coexist peacefully. However, when the rules are unfair and unabashedly biased, the people… the citizens of that society, have a right to push back. I’ll not deny my mutants that right.

Mr. Secretary, up until now, all I’ve ever done is try from behind the scenes to see both sides of the coin. I have done nothing but train my students in the art of peaceful coexistence. Nothing good can come from fighting our own people. In the same breath, it would seem that the world I’ve been fighting for all my life seems ever more out of reach with each law you pass. It’s a shame we are all being forced to suffer on behalf of your ire with others, but shame on me for expecting more from a government who — historically — has a nasty habit of destroying the things that make them uncomfortable or feel inferior.

This new law you have passed will only incite the rage of the one who continues to be a thorn in your side. This is my final plea to see reason. At the end of the day, when you finally grow tired of ratifying papers and decide you wish to solve the issue in the same manner you have solved all of this country’s issues in the past, I will go silent. I will stand aside and let things unfold, no matter how much it may pain my heart. 

TO MY FELLOW MUTANTS,  my final message to you all is to survive; to use your common sense when presented with scathing propaganda like this and proceed in a manner that allows you to live with no regrets down the road. I will never fully relinquish my faith because it is my hope that someday the people in power will realize their mistakes. It’s never too late you see. However, my loyalties have always been first and foremost, to my fellow X-Men; my mutants and my family. I will NEVER encourage you to retaliate with violence, but I will understand if you see things HIS way as opposed to my own, especially now.

In closing, Mr. Secretary, I will NOT be registering under your Accords and neither will the children left under my legal guardianship. Do what you must, but heed my warnings: even the most docile of creatures will fight back when backed into a corner. I pity anyone who comes at me or my students looking to collect when we’ve done nothing wrong. When you are finally ready to accept just how wrong you are and agree to work with me on an answer that doesn’t just benefit your side, give me a call. You won’t find me or my school, but finding you — wherever you are in the world — will never be a problem for someone like me. My powers are something that should keep you and your entire staff awake every night, but is it not fortuitous that I have always been on your side?

Sincerely,

          Professor X & Leader of the X-Men