#but these sure were some choices to make in how a black woman would serve an 'aracial' (white) man's narrative

[forsetti]

On Pres. Biden: Sadness, Anger, Counterfactuals, And Motivation

Right up front, I want to say that Kamala Harris was my first choice to be the presidential nominee in 2020. Joe Biden was way down my list of preferred candidates. It wasn’t that I didn’t like Joe or respect him, I just didn’t think he had it in him to be the candidate for change the country needed. Boy, I was wrong. He outperformed every expectation, and then some. His record over the past three and a half years is something any president would be thrilled to have as their legacy.

It is this legacy that makes me both sad and angry he decided not to continue to run for reelection.

I am sad because I cannot imagine how difficult this decision was for him to make. He has dedicated a half-century of his life to serving his country and was responsible for the greatest economic boom in America over the past fifty years.

I’m angry because he deserved better.

He deserved better from the media that opted not to discuss his accomplishments but instead focus on bullshit claims from the right about Hunter, the border, the economy, his mental state…

He absolutely deserved better from the left who, at the first sign of negative press, turned on him like a pack of rabid dogs. Whatever happens in Nov., I will NEVER forgive the Dems who dog-piled on Pres. Biden because a bunch of donors panicked and some well-funded, right-wing pushed polls showed Biden in trouble in some key states. (I can tell you as a matter of fact there is no way in hell he was trailing Trump in Michigan.)

As someone who has gone through what he has in his life, who was the proud Vice President to the first black president in history, who put the first black woman on his winning ticket, who appointed the most minorities to high-ranking posts and judgeships, who had his only surviving son publicly dragged and attacked by the right, who transformed the country’s economic model away from top down to middle out, he absolutely fucking deserved better.

While it is true Pres. Biden deserved better, it is also true, that he really had no choice but to step down from running for reelection. There were just too many forces outside his control pushing the narrative and it was affecting voter enthusiasm. He might have weathered the storm of bullshit had every Dem rallied to his defense but they didn’t for a multitude of spineless reasons.

No matter what happens in Nov., I am pretty sure the wrong lessons will be learned by the ones who helped push him out. Whether VP Harris wins or loses, the media will pat themselves on their backs because they were losing money on the Biden v Trump matchup. The chaos of Biden stepping down and the opportunity to come up with whole new lines of attacks against VP Harris is going to boost ratings, regardless of the election’s outcome.

The far-left, mostly white dudebro talking heads, pundits, and podcasters who pushed the hardest for Biden to step down won’t learn a lesson because if VP Harris wins, they will claim it was because of their efforts to get Biden off the ticket. If she loses, they will claim it was because Biden didn’t step down soon enough or because she really wasn’t who they wanted to replace Biden (Hint-she absolutely is not who they want to run.)

The media and the far-left are also the ones pushing for the Democratic Party to not go with VP Harris but instead have an open convention. There is no good reason to do this. The Biden/Harris ticket not only beat Trump in 2020 but 14 million people voted for this ticket in the 2024 primaries. The student body president at Bugtussle High got more votes cast for them than the second-place person in the Democratic Primaries. Dems wanted Biden/Harris. Not that the top of that ticket has stepped down, but that doesn’t mean Dean Phillips, RFK Jr., Marianne Williamson or the fifth-place finisher at the Nathan’s Hot Dog eating contest should be given a second look.

A contested convention would serve only two purposes: 1-created chaos which the media would gobble up like the attention whores they are; 2-allow the misogynist dudebros on the left to bypass VP Harris because that has always been their real purpose of getting Biden to step down.

Here’s the thing, no one knows what would have happened had Pres. Biden stayed in the race. No one. Not the pollsters. Not the pundits. Not the media. No-fucking-one.

Three weeks before the 2012 Presidential Election, Mitt Romney was polling 2 points ahead of Pres. Obama in the nationwide polls. How’d that turn out? Polls used to be fairly accurate but once people figured out they can manipulate and rig polls to suppress voter enthusiasm, they really aren’t that reliable.

The real problem is, any hot take about what would have/wouldn’t have happened if Biden had stayed in the race or stepped down sooner or whether there was an open contest at the Democratic convention relies on a counterfactual.

Counterfactuals are conditional sentences that discuss what would have been true under different circumstances. For example, “If Draymond Green had not been suspended for game five of the 2016 NBA Finals, the Golden State Warriors would have won the title.” Or, to stay with politics, “If Bernie Sanders had been the nominee in 2016, he would have beaten Trump.” Maybe. Maybe not. Just because you believe a counterfactual does not make it true.

The problem with counterfactuals is NOTHING counts against them. There is no way to swap out the conditions and replay the scenario. Counterfactuals are nothing more than guesses disguised as factual statements.

The Media and Left-Wing Dudebros LOVE counterfactuals because they allow them to NEVER be wrong. No matter what they proclaim would have happened, there is no way to prove them wrong. What they don’t say is, there is no way they can prove their claim(s) would have turned out true.

With this being said, through all the sadness and all the anger, I’m politically motivated more than I’ve been in years. I want Kamala Harris to be the next president not only because I believe she will do a tremendous job but I want her, and everything she is and what she stands for, to be a daily reminder of what America is supposed to be. I want her ethnicity to be a thorn in the side of every racist and bigot. I want her gender to annoy every misogynist. I want her example to be a ray of hope for everyone who feels marginalized. I want a Black/Asian woman to be the one defending America against the fascism, totalitarianism, and authoritarianism of the right.

The key to everything is if Democrats can maintain the enthusiasm, unity, and motivation they currently enjoy. These are going to be put to the test because the right-wing propaganda machine is going to be working overtime to discredit VP Harris and tear Dems apart. After all, that is the only way they can win.

[kisses4lao]

Really super awesome and cool shenhe smut

For my coworker who bought me ice cream in return for a smut. Thank you broski, this is for you

Tw/cw: afab reader, fem pronouns, shenhes very hot and sexy we love her, bdsm? She ties you up with red ropes, degrading, threesome with ice twin, mentions of morax, she threatens to crush you w her thighs its very hot, consent isn't said verbally but rather physically

Not proofread because fuck you

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♧♧~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

♧ Being an adventurer from Fontaine, your expectations were high when it came to scenery.

♧ It goes without saying that you had your fair share of dangerous encounters with random enemies. Treasure hoarders and hilichurls being the most common, usually the latter. You had always carried a small pocket knife with you just in case you had run into a sticky situation, but you'd usually run away before it could get out of hand.

♧ After a specific hilichurl encounter made you drop your knife, you had no choice but to climb up the mountain in front of you. Luckily, it wasnt a high climb and hilichurls don't have the brain capacity to follow you up. When you got to the top, you were amazed at the way it was flat at the top, with a large tree in the middle covering what seemed to be a tea table.

♧ As you started to walk around more, you find a small cave. Walking into it would reveal a glowing light and a young woman, seemingly your age. "And who might you be?" She asked, sensing your presence before even turning around. When she did finally meet your eyes, you were at a loss for words. She had this beautiful white hair, flowing down to her hips that was tied in a loose braid, and she was dressed in black fabric that fit her skin perfectly. She looked completely void of emotion and she just stared at you, awaiting an answer.

♧ "Just an adventurer who seemed to come at the wrong time. My sincerest apologies, I'll go now." Before you could start walking away, some sort of clone of the woman appeared in front of you. She seemed to be made of ice and had a talisman coving her face. She stood in the doorway you entered through, blocking your path.

♧ "Not so fast. Not until we're done with you." She says, looking at the figure behind you. "You're not from around here. You make it obvious. I should show you how punishment is served, maybe you'll learn your lesson." She's right in front of you now, looking down on you with her cold, soulless eyes.

♧ The white haired woman grabs a hold of your wrist and roughly pushes you to the ground, her ice twin lifting your hips up, working on getting your traveling gear off your waist. "Careful now, she's fragile."

♧ The Ice clone was done, leaving you in just panties and a bra, completely exposed to the both of them. Now then, where's my rope..." The woman says in a sarcastic tone. Her ice clone looks at her, slowly taking out a large amount of red rope. "Ah, here it is." She says as she gives you the most sinister grin you've ever seen. She begins to tie you up, your legs becoming joint at your thighs and ankles while your arms were bound at your wrists.

♧ "This will make it a much more pleasurable experience for the both of us." The woman says, her ice clone moving to now have you head laying on her thighs. The clone slips her hands under your bra, slowly pinching your nipples and rolling them in her fingers. The white haired woman looked up at your face as she knelt down in front of you, asking for permission. You give a desperate nod as she pulls your panties to the side, making it unbearable with how you can't spread your legs for her more.

♧ She licks a straight stripe up your pussy, making sure to give your clit extra stimulation. She moved her hands, one on your ass while the other slid down your stomach to in-between your thighs. Her hands spreading your legs out as far as possible, which wasn't exactly far, creating tension and friction. She begins to move her thumb at a steady pace as she slid her tongue inside you, slowly tongue fucking you. All this stimulation was too much, having this white haired woman between your thighs while her clone endlessly kneads your tits with her cold hands. You began to moan loudly, the woman between your legs slaps your ass in response, kneading it after to soothe the sting. "Shut it slut. Maybe I really should punish you. Crush you with my thighs, hm? Or would you like that, whore?"

♧ You began to bite your lip so hard it bled, but the woman continues fucking you. Trying to suppress any noise you make is torture, to the point you may actually combust. Arching your back, you can feel the knot in your stomach forming as both women continue to please you in ways you've never been pleased. As the white haired woman tongue fucks your pussy and stimulates your clit, she takes her tongue out and licks her middle and ring finger, slowly inserting them back into your pussy along with her tongue.

♧ After that the knot in your stomach broke, having such an amazing orgasm no amount of pain could stop you from moaning. Both women get up, the white haired woman staring down at you as she wipes her chin. "What would our lord Morax think?" She says in a cocky tone, watching as her ice twin unties you from the rope.

♧ Before you could even get up to get changed, a strange figure shows up in the doorway, casting a shadow on all three of you. It's... A bird? She doesn't look very happy. She sighs and puts her head down. "Seriously Shenhe? Again?" The bird says, leaving you in confusion.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♧♧~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/n: eek

[starkraivennemad]

Make A Grown Man Cringe

“Oooh! Such a lovely place!” Giselle Lissette Marieanne Lestrade née Dufort held touched her son’s arm as they followed a host to their table.  “And the owner knew you on sight? Tres chic, my Gregory!”

“Only the best for you, Maman.” Gregory Micheal Lestrade demurred as he looked around with pride. “Honestly? A friend of mine is a handsome bit of the posh. He’s insanely intelligent, highly particular, and dines here often. I’m invited time to time. It’s how Mr. Raymond knows me. I could not afford this place on the regular, but to have a chance for your favorite son to spoil you? That I can do.”

“I suppose it helps that you are my only son.” Gisselle teased as they arrived at their table. She turned to their host, “Before I partake of what I am sure to be the finest of fare, can you guide me to the ladies’ room?”

“Of course, Madame.” The host pointed the way as Greg sat.

A double homicidal serial killer had ruined the Mothering Day dinner Greg  had planned in March. Greg was making up for it now on the American celebration of Mother’s Day in May. He ensured he took the entire weekend off to not be called on duty this time. He had not spent meaningful time with his mother in quite the while and this weekend with her had been wonderful. He promised himself it would not be such a long time before he saw her again.

And speaking of a long time…

While Greg would never be so rude as to ask a woman what took her so long in the ladies’ room, he had begun to wonder as he looked at his watch after what had been more than sufficient time for a lady to simply powder her nose.

The (unfortunate?) answer came a few moments later in the manner of very high-pitched peals of laughter. Laughter that came from the direction of the restrooms, and that one of those high-pitches belonged to his mother.

I’m glad she’s enjoying herself but this is hardly the ambiance for such loud laughter.

Greg could imagine his dignified posh friend being slightly appalled by such behavior.

Please! I can all but see his infamous lemon sucked face.

“And so, he told the teen boy ‘at some point in the past your female progenitor had choice between coition or fellation. Given what’s facing me now, I’m behooved to say I am saddened by her decision.’ Gigi, he was all of ten, I swear!”

The women had stopped on the other side of very tall plants that served as divider between areas. Greg did not recognize the woman speaking, but there was something about the manner of it that seemed vaguely familiar.

“Oh dear, your Mikey was quite the precocious one, Vi!” Gisselle burst into fresh giggles. “My Greg was a smart one at that age, but a more blunt one. He would have told the teen flat out ‘your mum should’ve sucked!’”

The two women burst into giggles like naughty school girls.

Oh. My. God. She. Did. Not!

Greg was about to stand and put a stop to the conversation when a voice he recognized all too well did it instead.

“Dear heavens, get ahold of yourself woman! Your cackling can be heard clear across the… Oh hello! My apologies.”

Were Greg not already sure, his mother sealed the deal.

“Oh, Vi, you’re so right! He does look like he’s sucking lemon when he’s affronted!”

“I told you, did I not?! Giselle, this is my eldest, Mycroft.”

Greg groaned, forcing himself to not give in to the urge to bang his head on the table.

Oh, fuck me, IT IS Mycroft!

“I see your son got his incredible looks from you Mrs. Lestrade, where is he?” Mycroft asked.

Did he...? Did Mycroft just compliment MY LOOKS?! Surely, he would not have wanted me to know he thought that!

Greg stood and walked around the divider. “Wishing spontaneous black holes that appears under one’s feet truly existed.”

And from your expression at realizing I heard you, Mycroft, you feel the same.

There indeed was Mycroft Alexander David Holmes. Granted, a casual, light blue, window-pane given he was not at work suit, but in all his bespoke waist-coated, pocket watch, suited glory nonetheless. Beside him was a short heavy-set woman. Mycroft looked nothing like his mother in physical appearance, but his regal bearing matched hers to a T.

“Mrs. Holmes, I presume, I’m Gregory Lestrade, you and Mum are having quite the conversation.” Greg introduced himself and stood beside his mother. “Hello Holmes.”

“Oh!” Giselle, a wise woman herself, gasped in understanding. “You must be the handsome posh friend Greg speaks so highly of!”

Maman, no! Greg absolutely REFUSED to look at Mycroft.

Because yes, he thought the man handsome. And yes he was in love with him, but he damn sure was not about to admit such to a man renowned for his dislike of romantic entanglements!

“My stars! You’re… you’re the handsome copper from telly!” Mrs. Holmes gasped at the same time as Giselle. “The one gracious enough to let my baby boy work with you sometimes. Vi, you’re telling me this fantastic specimen of a man with such strong looking fingers creates those delicate paper bouquets you’ve shown me?” She then raised a brow to her son. “So, he’s the DI?”

“Mummy!” Mycroft gave his mother a look.

Whoa, now that was a ‘do shut up’ if I ever saw one. Do I even want to know what just happened there?

“The one and only.” Greg’s mother cooed with pride. “He was pants at other origami, but somehow can whip up these lovely paper blooms. He makes them to relax when really stressed.”

Greg internally groaned. This is NOT happening! “Maman, please stop!”

He prayed he was not as red as he felt.

It was a prayer in vain.

“The paper floral bouquet on Sargeant Donovan’s desk? That’s your work?” Mycroft raised a surprised brow. “It has grown in size of late, Lestrade. I take it my baby brother has been busy.”

He looked at Mycroft who was still doing his sour lemon impression, but the slight crinkling around his eyes gave away his amusement at Greg’s embarrassment. “I most certainly don’t want to talk about it, Holmes.”

“Well, at least yours still indulges in his hobby, Gigi. Unlike you Mikey. When last have you built a miniature like the one on showcase here? You need to update it!” Mrs. Holmes patted her son’s arm.

“You mean the miniature of this restaurant in the glass case on its own pedestal when we entered? That miniature? You didn’t tell me you personally knew the artist when you showed it to me, Gregory. Oh, that is lovely!”  Giselle looked to Greg, then Mrs. Holmes. “We have such talented sons, Violet!”

“Yes, we do, don’t we, Giselle?” Mrs. Holmes looked up at her son proudly. “Hard-working. Talented. And so handsome!”

Greg barely, just barely, caught his jaw before it dropped.

He had long admired the detailed art of the miniature each time he was invited to dinner. It was a layout of how the restaurant was arranged some years ago, but its core was there and beautifully rendered.

And it was built by MYCROFT HOMES?! I had no idea!

“The artist credit says Spyglass.” It was Greg’s turn to raise a surprised eyebrow, while Mycroft went quite red.

“Oh, that!” Mrs. Holmes waved a dismissive hand. “It’s how my Mikey signed all his art. With a little spyglass in the bottom corner. If you look at it carefully, you’ll see his initials in it.”

Greg gave Mycroft an amused look that all but said he absolutely was going to look for it when they left the restaurant.

“Mummy, please stop your prattling and let’s sit.” Mycroft gave a faux apologetic look to Greg and Giselle as he tried to gently steer his mother away.

Violet Alexandria Holmes neé Vernet was not having it.

“Why Gigi, you and your son simply must join us! We’re in a sizeable booth, plenty of room for us all. If not, my Mikey is a miracle worker. He can get us reassigned in a jiff, can’t you darling? Of course, you can! Did you get to order drinks or appetizers, yet, Gigi? Oh no, of course, not! You’d only just arrived yourselves, you said, silly me!  Well, that will just make it that much easier on the staff to seat us, won’t it? You absolutely must try their Manhattan. Oh, or their Tom Collins! There’s really nothing like the classics is there?”  

Not that Greg had ever wondered such before, but now he understood that Mycroft’s younger brother Sherlock’s ability to speak rapidly yet with perfect enunciation was certainly learned from his mother.  Greg blinked at the woman’s vocal staccato seemingly rattled off all in one breath.

All while staunchly ignoring her eldest son’s efforts to move her.  

“Mummy, we don’t wish to interrupt their celebrati-” “Oh! We wouldn’t want to intrude on-“

Mycroft and Greg tried to interject, but they never had a chance.

“Rubbish, boys! Gigi, you absolutely must come with!” Mrs. Holmes looked to Greg’s mother.

“If you’re sure, Violet…” an overwhelmed Giselle shrugged helplessly. 

“I am.” Mrs. Holmes lowered her voice conspiringly and offer her arm to Giselle. “You can meet my youngest, and we can further embarrass our offspring!”

Both women blithely ignored the loud groans of their sons.

“Well then, I’d be most delighted!” Giselle joined in the mock conspiracy as she took Violet’s arm and started walking off with her. “Because no one can make a grown man cringe like his own Mum.”

“Just so.” Violet grinned.

The very adult Mycroft and Greg rolled their respective eyes.

Behind their respective mothers’ backs of course, they were not stupid!

“Oh, how I most sincerely wish for that spontaneous black hole to appear…” Mycroft pointed, “…under him.”

Greg internally groaned, and whole-heartedly agreed with Mycroft, as a familiar, and very annoyed looking figure approached.

Christ! This will not be good. I just know it won’t.

While Greg and Mycroft would never question a woman’s activities in the ladies’ room, William Sherlock Scott Holmes clearly had no such reservations.

“Oh, there you are, Mummy. What took so long? Was it constipation? Do you need a laxative?”

Greg shook his head. The only thing making that remotely okay is his genuine concern.

“Lestrade what ere you doing here? Ohhh! Is there a new murder?”

“So! Mycroft…” Greg blatantly raised his voice, before Sherlock went any further. “…the miniature of Buckingham Palace and its grounds on display in your office? That is yours also?”

“And I most certainly do not want to talk about it, Lestrade.” Mycroft’s eyes narrowed as he echoed Greg’s earlier response.

Okay, I deserved that.

“Who cares about that dusty thing! Is there a murder?” Sherlock rolled his eyes.

Sherlock, you look far too gleeful at the prospect of someone having died. Read the room, mate!

“So, you’ve been to his office, Greg?” Mrs. Holmes turned surprised. “Not that silly silent club of his; but Mikey’s office?”

“Yes, I have ma’am. Our work crosses path--” Greg answered having a slowly sinking at the rising joy on the woman’s face.

Why is she looking at me like that?

“Oh Mikey!” Mrs. Holmes grabbed her eldest and hugged him. “You and your secrets! I’m happy for you!”

Greg was not sure he would ever get over Mycroft Holmes being addressed as Mikey, but he was certainly enjoying the man’s obvious vexation at its use.

Sherlock’s enjoying it too.

“Mummy, please!” Mycroft extracted himself from her grasp.

Why does Mycroft look murderous?

“Mummy, whatever are you on about?” Sherlock asked.

I would like to know also.

Oh, be careful what you ask for!

“Why didn’t you tell me you and Gregory were dating?” Mrs. Holmed beamed.

“Really, Greg? That’s wonderful!” Giselle was near giddy in pleasure as she hugged Greg.

Half the neighboring tables turned when Greg and the two Holmes Brothers looked to their respective mothers in shock.

“WHAT?!?!”

-----------------------------------

Comment on AO3

@calaisreno @MayPrompts2024

#MayPrompts2024 - Prompt 8: Hobby and Prompt 11: Secret

[hot-take-tournament]

even if you don't know the series you can still vote!

HOT TAKE TOURNAMENT

POST-PRE-PRELIMINARY #71

Submission 181

a3! banri settsu's spring outfit IS NOT AS BAD AS SOME OF YALL MAKE IT OUT TO BE IT LOOKS GOOD

[JUSTIFICATION UNDER THE CUT]

Pre-preliminaries will be used to determine what qualifies as a hot take. Propaganda is encouraged!

Also, remember to reblog your favourite polls for exposure! (exposure like when you’re exposed to the fact that the KISS Scooby Doo crossover does actually exist, scarring you for life)

for reference this is what i'm talking about: https://yaycupcake.com/a3/images/6/6b/Banri_Fullbody.png THIS IS MY MAN MY BOYFRIEND I INSULT HIM ALL THE TIME BUT I WILL NOT LET ANYONE SLIGHT THIS DRIP. "oh my god he's wearing leopard print with plaid" AND HE MAKES IT WORK. yes if someone just told me with no context or reference pics whatsoever that this guy pairs leopard print with plaid, i too would be like what the fuck lol that's terrible. BUT NOW THAT I’VE ACTUALLY SEEN IT WITH MY OWN EYES I’M A CHANGED WOMAN. and this is how he works it: neither pattern is too much. the leopard print is lightly sprinkled on the top of his vest (idk why he wears it it doesn’t seem to serve any practical purpose but it looks good so who cares), and the plaid is literally just on the sleeves. there isn’t a lot of contrast between the black and the purple squares so it’s easy on the eyes. and under the plaid and the vest he’s wearing a normal black tee with a little graphic on it, and again it’s not too much it’s just a little thing. his top half definitely catches the eye but it’s not terribly busy. i love it! and he loves the colour purple (his summer, autumn, and winter default outfits all have him wearing purple in some form and he looks great in them!) LET HIM WEAR PURPLE LET HIM BE HAPPY.

and he balances it out with how simple his lower half is in comparison to the top half! just a normal pair of dark blue jeans and grey sneakers. because he KNOWS that his top half has quite a fair bit of stuff going on, so for balance he keeps the bottom half simple HE KNOWS WHAT HE’S DOING HE IS CANONICALLY CALLED A FASHIONISTA FOR A REASON, AND IN AN INTRA-FANDOM FASHION TOURNAMENT I HELD HE LITERALLY RANKS 6 OUT OF 24 CHARACTERS (AKA IN THE TOP QUARTER, ALBEIT THE BOTTOM OF THE TOP QUARTER BUT STILL) WITH AN AVERAGE OF 81.7 VOTES, and his best outfit (not this outfit) ranked no. 4 OVERALL with 238 votes to its name (you can check the stats in this post https://www.tumblr.com/a3outfitstournament/722364282034110464/part-2-pairings?source=share) so there is substance to his canonical status as a stylish fashionista!! do not doubt or disparage the plaid + leopard print combo!! besides his canon fursona (long story short all 24 main characters were assigned a fursona as part of an april’s fools prank thing) is a leopard so let him express his furry self through his wise and based fashion choices!!

also he’s literally an anime guy. and not just that, a CANONICALLY STATED HANDSOME ANIME GUY. as in, multiple people in-universe have commented that he is good looking and stylish. sure all anime boys can look pretty but he is acknowledged IN-UNIVERSE to be attractive so even if he wore a potato sack he’d still be my specialest guy <3

[acewritesfics]

Take On Me | Eddie Munson

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Request: No

Warnings: Drug use. Slight mentions of possible pining for one another.

Word Count: 787

Stranger Things Masterlist | Main Masterlist

“What song is your favorite right now?” Eddie asked curiously about Y/N’s musical tastes as they sat on the lone picnic table in the middle of the woods, passing an almost-finished joint between them. Y/N was lying lengthwise on the tabletop as he sat on one of the seats closer to her, so they didn’t have to reach far when passing the joint back and forth. The two new friends had just recently met and were still getting to know one another.  

“This will sound cheesy, but it’s A-Take ha’s On Me.” She responds after a short moment of contemplation. Even though she has numerous favorites, Take on Me was the first song that came to mind. She readies herself for the playful criticism from Eddie.  

Rock music, according to the lovable metalhead, should be the only kind of music. She agreed to some extent, declaring rock music as her favorite genre, but her musical tastes expanded beyond that. Metallica, Dio, Black Sabbath, Pantera, Judas Priest, Motorhead, Slayer, and many others are among her favorites, but she also enjoys The Beatles, Fleetwood Mac, The Eagles, Stevie Ray Vaughn, The Righteous Brothers, and Janis Joplin, to name a few. Her parents were responsible for her eclectic musical tastes. Her parents were huge musical enthusiasts, with Woodstock being one of their best memories.  

He looks at her, momentarily stunned by her choice of song, his eyes travelling to the Slayer t-shirt she’s wearing. “I didn’t think you would be a pop music lover."   

She puffs on the joint and hands it back to Eddie, who finishes it. "There’s a lot about me you don’t know, Munson."   

"I like how unexpected you are, Y/L/N,” he admits.   

“Yeah?” She wonders.  

“It keeps things interesting,” he says, nodding.  

“Glad to be of service, Eddie the Musically inclined,” she beams as she turns her head to face him, her gaze locked with his stunning, deep brown eyes.   

She wasn’t sure if it was because they were high or because his eyes were simply so beautiful, but she found herself becoming lost in his vast pools of chocolate eyes.   

As his voice fills the silent surroundings, she is soon jolted out of her trance.   

“Take on me, take on me. Take me on, take on me; I’ll be gone in a day,” Eddie sings loudly and completely off tune, which leads the young woman to burst out laughing, her head thrown back. “It’s a cool song."   

"But they’re not Metallica or Black Sabbath, are they?” She smiles as she turns her head to look at him again.  

She laughs once again when he says, “Obviously,” as if she has gone insane.  

He smirks at her, at ease, and not simply due to the joint they just shared. They both felt a sense of peace with each other. He was easy to get along with for Y/N. He knows how to keep the conversation interesting and flowing. He wasn’t a creep and always made her feel comfortable with him. He didn’t press her to discuss anything she wasn’t ready to talk about with him, and he was a genuinely good guy with a kind heart who was making the best of what life had thrown at him.  

She hadn’t genuinely smiled or laughed in a while. He couldn’t blame her. According to what she had told him, she had always been close to her father, therefore his untimely death was devastating and unexpected. He wasn’t close to his own father, who was incarcerated and serving time for numerous criminal charges including murder, so he didn’t pretend to understand how she was feeling.   

Although he is aware that she is high right now, he still found it amusing to see and hear her laugh and see her smile. In his eyes, it made her look even more beautiful.  

“Do you think that cloud looks like a butterfly?” She gestures to the sky, which is visible through the gap in the trees, and asks the metal head. She was high right now.   

“Let me see,” he says, beckoning for her to move over. He rises from his seat and climbs onto the tabletop with her.   

To give him room to lie next to her, she slowly slides aside, making sure not to fall off the table. The two are shoulder to shoulder, as they looked up at the sky. Eddie squints his eyes a little, trying to see the shape of a butterfly.   

“Looks more like a cat,” he adds, causing her to laugh out loud once again.  

They spent the rest of their afternoon skipping class and discerning what clouds looked like which shape while cracking jokes and getting to know each other a little better. 

[thebluemoonjune]

The Elegance of Resilience Chapter 6: Daddy Issues

Chapter 6: Daddy Issues

Summary:

Father continues to berate Michonne then Rick argues with her Father.Rick and Michonne's disagreement about her father not talking about pregnancy. Rick needs air meet Daryl. Michonne and her parents argue (with dad mostly) about Rick, pregnancy, wedding, Mike, the children, her independence. Rick and Michonne have honest conversations. Michonne Rick and Sasha hosts a get-together.

Notes:

This kind of serves as a trigger warning for people who have experienced emotional abuse.

Michonne didn’t answer Reynard as fast as he would have liked. She withdrew from Rick's touch and swallowed hard, looking down, locked in a cycle of self-doubt.

“Michonne-”

“Amélie. Go on…”

Reynard cut Rick off, keeping his cold, dead gaze on his daughter. His voice was stern but soft. Her jaw trembled, making it hard to speak. She was wringing her hands under the table, trying to regain her composure. 

“To be better-”

“I can’t hear you, Amélie.”

“To be better… I have to be better. Don’t make foolish mistakes, and give people room to talk. If I can’t honour you, do not shame you.”

“Reynard, please.” Marie pleaded to her husband.

“You disappoint me, dearest.” He placed his arm on the table and rubbed the crown of his head, as if to tell her he was fed up with her nonsense. He went on, however.

“Did I not give everything that others less fortunate than yourself would kill for? You went to the best schools, wore the best clothes, ate the best food... But most importantly, I taught you values. I taught you to work hard, to strive for greatness, to respect yourself... You are a woman and you are black, I made sure you never forgot that… I made sure you were the best, that you were number one in all your endeavours... Let me ask you this, Dearest. When was the last time you practised, hmm?”

“I take cases here and there!” Her voice rose hysterically.

“Watch your tone with me, girl.” His icy stare bore into her. “You have not practised in three months, and three months prior to that... Can’t find the time to take a case, but all the time to get pregnant... You can’t pay your bills by taking a case every three months… Living off your trust fund, no doubt.”

“What? Do you want to cut me off?" She let out a lengthy sigh, stretching her right hand out on the dining table, not looking at her father's emotionless face.

“No, nor would it be my place. If I had my way, you wouldn’t have had it in the first place, but alas, your mother will always have her way, even if it means to undermine me and spoil you... I have been the best father I could be. While your mother wanted to be your friend, I worked tirelessly and thanklessly to ensure you were the best version of yourself… I remember the first time you became valedictorian. You were four, and you came running, yelling, ‘Daddy! Daddy, look!'. You were so proud of yourself, and I was proud of you.” He had the slightest smile as he reminisced.

“It was that day I knew you were destined to be even better than me... Yet here you are. It hurts me to see you settle into this ball of mediocrity. How very disappointing.” 

Her self-esteem began to collapse like a brittle sandcastle, damaged by the never-ending waves of negative thoughts crashing on the shores of her mind. Michonne let out a hollow laugh, and the tears she'd managed to hold back threatened to flow once more. She refused to cry in front of him for a second time, and she shot up from the table without saying anything, heading upstairs to her bedroom.

“Sweetheart, wait!” Marie rushed to meet her daughter.

Rick knew he should have gone after Michonne, but he had some choice words for the man before him. His muscles flicked angrily in the jaw, and his eyes gleamed with ruthless fire. Reynard challenged his gaze, smiling maliciously.

“Say what you want to say, boy.” Reynard popped another bottle of wine open and poured himself a glass.

“Do you get off on hurting your daughter?”

“What? Of course not.” His brows shot up at the insinuation. “If anything, she gets off on going against me. You aren’t the first; she did it with Mike as well, but she understood eventually. With a bit of tough love to push her, she’ll come around; my Amélie always does.”

His voice was much calmer with Rick, as if he wasn’t worth any extra energy. He tossed his wine around in the glass before taking a sip.

“But I have to say, Richard, Michael was a doctor; he had no children nor any long-winded drama or anger issues; however, I knew he wasn’t good enough—not for my daughter. He was weak, complacent, and selfish. Even when she accepted his proposal, I knew that she knew, it would never work. She was only twenty-two; she was driven, intelligent, and kind, with a deep love for life. My Amélie was destined for greatness, and she still is. Which confuses me as to why she chose you of all people. It’s been more than four years. It worries me that she might actually be serious about this long term.”

Rick blinked quickly, trying to grasp the incredible scene in front of him, his mind attempting to reconcile reality with the shock.

“You’re not serious, are you? It ain’t crossed your mind that we might actually love each other. I love her, she loves me. We're gonna get married. We got two children together. Thank you for delivering the news about the third, by the way.”

“You're very welcome, Richard. I think it’s a testament to your relationship that my daughter didn't tell you. Everything isn’t all dandy, as you say.”

“You're saying that she doesn’t love me?”

“No! No! My daughter doesn’t have a callous bone in her body. I’m sure her feelings for you are genuine, no matter how fleeting they are. What I am saying is that there must be a reason she hasn’t told you; she’s three months along, as I understand it to be. You didn’t even realise. You say you love my daughter, but I don’t believe that. I don’t think she believes it either.”

Reynard relished the simple excitement of living, savouring each sip of wine. It was as though his senses were heightened by his enjoyment. He couldn't stop smiling; his smile was dangerous but genuine, as if happiness had taken up residence on his face. Rick's face flushed bright red. He smashed his hand against the table, the piercing crackling echoing throughout the room, scattering pieces of broken glass and the remnants of his rage.

“I love Michonne; I’m in love with her whether you like it or not! She knows that!”

“If you loved her, you would have waited until you had your divorce instead of making her a glorified mistress. You wouldn’t have gotten her pregnant out of wedlock. How much has my Amélie sacrificed for you?”

Rick paced towards Reynard, the force of his footsteps a testament to the restless anger coursing through his veins. His finger pointed directly into Reynard's face as he cornered him. The older man smirked as he poured more wine into his glass and slanted back into his seat.

“What the hell do you know? You don't want her happy! You're gonna make it seem like you want what’s best for her; it’s all bullshit! You just want to control her. You’re gonna sit here and act like you care, but the truth is, you don’t like that you're losing control. It ain’t sitting right with you that someone else got influence over her!”

Reynard nodded enthusiastically, and his eyes grew wide with excitement as Rick invaded his space. He turned to meet his angry gaze.

“You said all of that just to ignore my question... Richard, I think that part of you knows...”

“What?”

“That part of you knows that you’re not good enough for my little girl. Part of you doubts the sanctity of your relationship. Part of you is afraid that one day she’s going to realise that you're not worth it.”

Rick stumbled back, briefly losing his footing, his body recoiling as if struck by an invisible force by the unexpected allegation levelled at him. As a prolonged moment of silence took hold, his breath stopped, caught in his throat. He looked at the man, trying to find the right words, before turning on his heel and walking up the stairs to his and Michonne's bedroom. Outside the door, he could hear two women talking in French. He didn’t bother to knock before he entered.

“Ah, tu es là, Richard! I’ll go clean up downstairs.” She kissed his cheek. “Amélie, prends ton temps. D'accord? Je t'aime.” She gave her child one last look.

And with that, Marie left, giving the couple their space. Rick walked to Michonne, whose eyes were red and puffy. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t maintain eye contact. She rubbed the backs of her crossed arms gently. 

“We need to talk, Michonne.”

“Do we have to do this right now?”

“The baby thing? Yes! Yes, we do.” His voice had dropped an octave and was gritty.

“What do you want me to say, Rick?”

“How about you start with how long you’ve known, Chonne?”

“A little over a month...”

“A little over a month. And you didn’t think that I should know we’re gonna have another baby? I should’ve known! I should’ve been the first one to know!”

“I had my reasons, Rick! You know I did…”

“And yet it’s those reasons that concerns me! You made an active choice to hide your pregnancy from me for reasons I can’t even begin to comprehend… Your mother knows, and your father knows enough that he can throw it in our fucking faces! Let me guess: Sasha knows as well, which would make me the last to know. Ain’t that just fucking something?”

“I didn’t tell you because of everything going on. Lori, Judith, and the stress of everything else! You had so much on your plate. I was waiting for the right time.”

“And when was the right time, hmm?”

“Rick…”

She couldn’t answer, nor did he want her to. She reached out to grab his arm, but he pulled away from her, and her shoulders slumped. The room felt suffocating; the air was heavy with an oppressive sadness that clung to every corner.

“The truth is, you don’t trust me to be man enough and deal with my shit. Like I’m a ticking time bomb waiting to go off. I see it in how you treat me when I deal with other people. I know I got my issues, but you got no right like I’m some broken toy. Part of you agrees with your father-”

“That’s not true!”

“We both know it’s true! You’ve never defended me in front of your father. Not once.” 

He rubbed his hand over his face after watching a tear fall from Michonne's eyes. She held his hand.

“Rick, baby, I don’t want to fight.”

“I don’t wanna fight either. I don’t wanna say something I can’t take back, so I’m gonna go.”

“Where? Baby, it’s late!”

“Daryl’s”

“That’s an hour's drive-”

“I know. I’m a grown man… Look, I ain't gonna go on some rave, okay? This thing, with your father and the baby, I just need time to get my thoughts straight.”

He took his phone, his baseball cap, and his jacket and left. Michonne sat on her bed and hugged her knees to her chest, rocking back and forth, seeking solace in the rhythm of her own desolation as she thought of all that happened tonight.

…

“Hey, man. You didn’t call.”

“You got someone coming over or something.”

“No. What’s going on? Trouble in paradise?”

“My father-in-law’s in town. Let's just say we had an oh-so-colourful dinner…” 

Rick threw himself on the couch, putting his arm over his face to cover his eyes from the light. Daryl went to the kitchen to grab two beers to join him.

“Michonne’s pregnant. Found out tonight.”

“What? You ain’t want it?”

“That ain’t the problem. Her father is the one who let the cat out the bag. She hid it.”

“She ain’t want it?”

“It’s not that... I know she thinks I can’t handle another kid. And not just another kid; she doesn’t think me reliable at all. She’s gonna start showing soon. How long was she gonna hide it for?”

“She said that?”

“No, but I know it.”

“Rick-”

“If we didn’t have the boys, I got no doubt she would have left me a long time ago. I know it.”

“Rick, that girl loves you.”

“Yeah. Well, love ain’t everything; you, of all people, should know that.”

“Leah and Michonne ain’t the same. Come on, Rick. You ain’t exactly been the best partner, Rick. This ain’t the 1950s; if she wanted to leave, trust me, she would, especially if her daddy been begging her for years. Them kids ain’t gonna stop shit. Stay the night; clear your head, but you're gonna go home in the morning.”

“Hey, Michonne wanted to have a small get-together on Friday; you coming? It’s for the weekend.”

“Alright, just text me the time... And Rick, some parents, they don’t got to beat you to damage you.” 

Daryl stood up and went to his room, leaving behind his best friend. Rick took out his wallet to retrieve a photograph from within. It was of him and Michonne with the boys at their christening. This is a special occasion for both of their families. He and Michonne weren't religious, but it was a custom shared by both of their families, which was unusual for the two. Both of their parents were in the back, bathing in the joyous atmosphere of the blessing and celebration of their children. He traced his fingers along the old photograph, a bittersweet caress that brought memories to life. His fingers lingered on its surface, as if, by touching it, he could somehow find solace within it.

…

“Bonjour Amélie. Comment vas-tu? I see Richard hasn’t returned… Do you want to talk about it?”

“Morning, mummy…” Her lips pulled together into a half-formed smile.

“Darest, I spoke to your father last night... Don’t take it to heart; he’s a stubborn old fool. He only wants what's best for you.”

“Best for me? Is insulting me and the father of my children, is what's best for me?”

“Amélie, Your father has his flaws, but he’s sincere. I like Richard, but let’s not act as if he had done right by you.”

“Why are you entertaining the girl’s foolishness? What life has she lived to be able to question me?” Reynard said, entering the kitchen.

He was wearing a maroon Ralph Lauren sweater with a grey shirt underneath and long khaki pants. He wore his glasses today, and he carried his laptop and iPad with him.

He seems to be occupied for the day. That means he’ll be out of my hair for a while. Should I bring the boys back?

“Good morning, my sweet. You look handsome; you were in rare form last night.”

“Is breakfast finished?”

“Oui, hungry?”

He didn’t come last night; he slept out. I get he’s angry, but to take that shit out on me! And he wonders why I acted the way I did. Shameless man!

 “Amélie?”

I wonder what time he’s coming back. We still need to talk, but that temper! Still, I’m not completely in the right either, and he honestly held it together pretty well. Then again, he never really lost his shit with me, even last night.

“Amélie!”

“What is it?”

“Did you not hear your mother calling you, girl?”

“I’m not doing this shit today.” Michonne began to walk away

“What was that girl?”

“Look, I don’t have the time. Rick didn’t come back last night, and I can’t with you right now. I'm tired of this.” 

“Let’s not do this, you two!”

“You seem to forget yourself, Amélie.” Reynard ignored Marie.

“The father of your grandchildren left late last night because of your antics; he isn’t back yet... Dad, it's not fair what you're doing to my family!”

“Your family? Am I not your family? It seems being away from us for so long has rotted your brain. Even talking back to me, have you lost your mind?”

“No, I haven’t!” Her words shattered into the room like shards of glass. “Do you know why the twins aren't here? I left them with Sasha because I didn't want them here with you! I have somethings to get off my chest, and you will listen.”

Michonne could see her father fuming, but he remained silent, his arms crossed hard across his chest. It was as though he was waiting to see how far she'd go with her 'performance'. Sweat rivulets formed across her body, and time seemed to slow as the weight of the situation pressed on her. Under his piercing gaze, she could sense her courage wavering. She was adamant, however, knowing that if she didn't express what she wanted now, she might not get another chance. After Rick left, she thought long and hard about everything, especially Rick’s words. She hardly slept last night, knowing that he was out and angry at that.

“I am an adult, capable of making my own decisions. And though they aren’t always the best, they are my decisions to make.” She took a deep breath. “I moved to Atlanta to be my own person. I didn’t want to be attached to your name anymore; in everything I did, I had to be careful not to tarnish you because, no matter what, I was only seen as  Reynard Hawthorne's daughter. ‘If I can’t honour you, do not shame you.’ Those were the words that kept ringing in my head every single day! Every part of my life you controlled. What clothes I wore, what languages I spoke,  what instruments I played, and my likes and dislikes—you even controlled who I was dating!”

“I already know you chose Michael just to go against me. You did it then, and you’re doing it now. But I do not hold it against you; all children challenge their parents, and all children rebel. You carried on that charade with that buffoon for almost two years just to spite me, but in the end, you left him at the altar. I raised you, I taught you, and I made you who you were. In this world, I know you better than you know yourself. I do not hold your little outburst to heart, so quit while you are ahead, lest it stop being cute.”

“I did stay with Mike to spite you, and I don’t regret it.”

“You don’t regret it?” Reynard asked rhetorically, “Dearest, I told Richard that you didn’t have a callous bone in your body; I lied. I knew that I lied because you are mine; you are my daughter, and so you are just like me... But if you must defy me, at least go all the way. In the end, you chickened out because you didn’t have the gall. You picked a battle you couldn't win, and I knew you couldn’t do it. You see, Amélie, you are your mother’s as much as you are mine. You have her unyielding heart.”

He walked up to her and took her hands in his. He had a smile on his face, which caught Michonne off guard. His ability to change emotions at the drop of a hat always left her speechless.

“Dearest, you are not experienced enough to navigate the world on your own. I have no doubt that you love Richard; however, just like with Mike, I know this will not work. You think you do as well, since there are feelings involved, but I know better. Have I ever been wrong in the past? You tried it before, but in the end, you walked away like I said you should. Dearest, you are stubborn; you got that from me. What I do is to ensure that your bullheaded nature does not lead you astray.”

He softly tapped her palms, as if to offer her comfort.  When she looked at her father, she was met with that expression. He was smiling, but he had that expression on his face. That very look had haunted her throughout her life. That empty, piercing look probed her soul; what it was searching for, she didn't know. She was looking around his face, as if the shell in front of her was hiding a monster. A firm lump bound her neck, making breathing difficult.

She grew extremely cold and jerked her outstretched hands back, afraid to let him touch them.

“I’m glad you know I love him. This isn’t some short-term thing. He’s the one I want. I knew that the first day I laid my eyes on him. I didn’t care about the consequences then, and I don’t care now. I don’t care what anyone has to say! Am I a bad person? Yeah! Maybe! I met a married man with two children. I wanted him, I got him, and I don’t regret any of it! I love him! I love him! I love him! And I’m going to marry him! And we’re going to have another baby! And I don’t care what you or her have to say about it!” 

Her heart was racing, and her breath was ragged in her throat. It was the first time she denounced her parents. She spoke so quickly that it almost became hard to tell what was said. The face that had held a smile now showed nothing. Not anger or disgust; it was now just expressionless. He walked even closer, barely giving her any room to breathe. Marie, who stood silently the entire time, felt a presence other than theirs. She looked towards the entrance of the kitchen.

“Michonne…”

“Rick, you’re back…”

He walked to her and took her hand to leave, not paying any mind to the people in the kitchen.

“Where are we going?”

“Away from here…We're gonna have to talk, right?”

“Yeah…”

…

The couple sat on the park bench, taking in the breeze. A radiant smile swept across their faces, and their eyes glowed with electrifying excitement.

It feels good to be away from everything. It feels freeing.

After last night and this morning, this was a welcomed change of pace for Michonne, and she suspected the same for Rick as well. She turned to look at him, only to find him staring at her with eyes much calmer than they were last night.

“Rick I—”

“I'm sorry, I—”

They laughed a bit, understanding what the other was going to say. Michonne blocked her giggle and said,

“You go first.”

“Okay… Chonne I’m sorry about how I left last night. I just didn’t want to say the wrong thing…I understand why you didn’t say anything; I do. I know I ain’t exactly in the best place mentally, and I know your father; he doesn’t exactly make it any easier.” He smiled sadly.

“What you said last night, about me not defending you... You were right. I just—things with my dad are so complicated; I don’t even know how to explain it!”

Rick clasped their hands together, pulling her to him.

“Sometimes parents don’t got to hit their kids to damage ‘em; Daryl told me that… He may have raised you and cared about you, but that man isn’t a good father; it’s time you stop acting like he is.” He pulled her hand to his lips. “I thought about our family all last night, and I want us all to work. I need us all to work, but if he can’t be better, I’m sorry, baby; I don’t need him around my kids or us... I overheard what you told him; in fact, I was eavesdropping a while before I entered the room. Does that make you mad?”

“Kind of, but I'll get over it.” He chuckled at her.

“Darling, you are enough. I need you to know that.”

Her lips trembled as she tried to stop the overwhelming emotion. She managed to form a slight smile that gave way to what she was trying to overcome, although one couldn’t tell by looking at her face that both her hands, even the one he held, were shaking.

“What I said—didn’t it change what you thought about me? How you see me?”

“No, sweetheart, it doesn't. If anything, I’m relieved; you were too perfect, and you still are to me. You have the right to be selfish; ain’t nothing wrong with that. Everyone makes mistakes. I’ve done made a whole lot; it’s a wonder you're still with me. I’ve said it before: what happened with Mike wasn’t great, but you saved him and yourself from what was gonna be a terrible marriage... You’re not a bad person for wanting to live for yourself—as yourself.”

“I think most people would disagree with everything I’ve done to this point.”

“You don’t need to care about everyone else. We just have to care about each other and be the best that we can be for our children…Chonnie, you're not some homewrecker either; we both made a choice, and my marriage had no saving to be had... I was happy with what you said to your old man. Not just because you stood up to him, but hear that you truly want to be with me despite how messed up I am or everything with Lori or that we got kids; that you want me.”

“You are messed up, but so am I. The truth is, you're getting better. You were a good man before me and Lori, and you’re a good man after, but I’m—what I’ve got, there’s no fixing that.”

He wiped her tears from her cheeks, tracing his fingertips along her bottom lashes. As she buried her face in the flesh of his neck, he wrapped her in his warm embrace and tenderly kissed the top of her head. She had managed to deceive him for so long while suffering so much.

Four years, and I didn't know. You deserve better.

“Next week, I want you to join me in my sessions with Dr. Job. Okay? I won’t take no for an answer.”

“Okay.”

“We’re gonna be just fine, darling. I know it, and if we’re not, we’ll make it work. Not just for us, but for our family. It ain’t gonna be easy; we'll do it though, and we’ll be strong for each other. From now on, we live how we choose.”

“I love you...”

“I love you more. ”

The pair was in a better emotional state after having a fully open discussion. They picked up the boys and decided to spend the remainder of the day having fun as a family. When they got back home, they fully expected an argument between the two sides; however, they kept their words limited. Rick suspected it had to do with the twins being present. The same happened the next day as well.

…

Friday evening came quickly. Michonne, Rick and Sasha had rented out a guest house for the weekend, where Maggie, Daryl and a few others were present. They were going to bring the kids, but Marie had offered to babysit them. It was a peace offering, no matter how temporary it was Rick and Michonne agreed. Maggie rode with them. 

When they got there, Sasha, Daryl and Michonne's friend, Rosita, were already there, along with Rick’s friends Carol and Morgan, who would arrive the following day. Michonne and Maggie hopped out of the car, leaving Rick to bring the bags in. Daryl, who was smoking outside, went to help his friend. Sasha and Rosita, hearing the car, came out to see.

“Heyyyy bitchessss!” Sasha yelled at the top of her lungs.

Michonne and Maggie hugged everybody around them, their passionate actions a tribute to the overwhelming happiness that flowed from their spirit. Their laughter resonated like bells in the air, a melody of pure delight that raised everybody's mood.

“Where’s Abe?”

“He’s staying with Noah till his sister comes to take over tomorrow. Until then, I’m free whores!” She laughed, pushing out her tongue. She already had a shot in her hand.

“How much have you had to drink?”

“She had six shots!” Rosita made it known before Sasha could lie.

“We’re here for a break from life; what the hell did you expect? Come drink with me!”

“I can’t.” Maggie shut her down

“Chonne can’t either.”

“What?”

Everybody other than Michonne and Daryl watched Rick as he took the last bag to head inside, confused as to why he was speaking for her. Maggie looked at Michonne while the rest fluctuated between the duo, putting two and two together.”

“Noooo…” Rosita covered her mouth.

“You guys got knocked up again! Whatever bug you two have, you better keep it to yourselves! I’m not playing!”

“Would that be so bad?”

“Shhh, Mags; he may not be here, but he might hear you. He’s been begging for a girl!”

The air ignited with an electric charge, such that everyone in attendance swirled with eagerness for what was to come, infusing the occasion with an irresistible energy.

“Guys, come inside!” Rick called out to the girls.

[apocalypticavolition]

Let's (re)Read The Dragon Reborn! Chapter 15: The Gray Man

No, the Gray Man is obviously not the woman in the picture. But perhaps they are in the picture. You'd hardly notice them, so well camouflaged! What you will notice is spoilers, lots and lots of spoilers for The Wheel of Time. So don't keep reading if that's going to be a problem!

This chapter has the mirrored Aes Sedai icon because it's still about the Black Ajah hunt.

Think, Egwene. Liandrin would not have tried to put us out of the way unless she thought we were a threat to her. I can’t imagine how, or to what, but I cannot see how it could have changed, either. If there are any Black Ajah still here, they will surely see us the same way, whether they suspect what we’re doing or not.

Think Egwene, think!

*gestures to the sa'angreal Liandrin tried to steal*

Look what they need to mimic a fraction of our power!

But seriously. Nynaeve is always good at cutting right to the heart of scheming, a lesson Egwene still needs. The real question is if Siuan overlooked this angle, mistakenly assumes that it's only because the girls are powerful, or if she's aware of the risk to the DR-associated gals but feels she has no choice anyway even though the only thing keeping the girls safe is that the BA needs to be subtle.

“You sound like Sheriam. You never have before. You have pushed every limit they’ve put on you. Why would you accept limits now, when we might have to ignore them to stay alive?”

It's fun how it's Egwene, the girl who will be the first to come back around to the Three Oaths after questioning them, who is most against them now. It's good character development how she does come to appreciate necessary limitations put on her - I feel strongly that Jordan absolutely did not intend to have Egwene come to the political solutions to the coup that Sanderson creates in his trilogy.

What special reason did Nynaeve have for wanting to learn more of what the White Tower could teach? What was it she wanted to do? Why was Nynaeve keeping it secret from her?

She wants to steal Lan from Moiraine you silly goose.

Egwene caught her shoulders and pulled her to an abrupt halt. “What—?” Something tugged at her hair, stung her ear. A black blur streaked in front of her face to clang against the wall, and in the next breath Nynaeve was bearing her to the gallery floor, behind the railing.

This is probably the closest thing to ta'veren level luck the girls have in these books, which I'm willing to chalk up to early installment weirdness all things considered. If they hadn't beaten Elayne back to their quarters none of this would have gone donw!

I told you there were other ways to defend ourselves. I used Air, to hold him with air. If it is a he; I could not see him clearly. A trick the Amyrlin showed me once, though I doubt she expected me to see how it was done.

Normally it's a bit annoying how characters might infodump to each other things they were both there for, but since it's been months since this encounter and Egwene's had her own training through hell since then I don't mind too much. Nynaeve is finally thinking like a channeler, which I'm sure we all agree is wonderful.

Sheriam Sedai stopped at the top of the ramp, frowning at what she saw. “What in the name of the Light has happened here?” She hurried forward, her serenity gone for once.

How convenient that she happened to be right here when the crime happened instead of literally anywhere else in the Tower. It's almost like Sheriam is the one who let the Gray Man into the Novices' Quarters in the first place.

The Soulless, the Gray Men, give up their souls to serve the Dark One as assassins. They are not really alive, after that. Not quite dead, but not truly alive. And despite the name, some Gray Men are women. A very few. Even among Darkfriends, only a handful of women are stupid enough to make that sacrifice.

I think part of it is that so many Darkfriend women are likely Black Ajah and it would be a waste of their actual talents to do this. I don't think it's translation convention that it's "Gray Men" instead of "Gray People" or "Gray Folk" or whatever, but a genuinely gendered term because Gray Women are so rare.

You will speak of this to none but me, or to the Amyrlin, should she mention it first.

A great way to cover things up, as Siuan will never know about it to mention it first.

Egwene curtsied, and tugged at Nynaeve’s sleeve, but Nynaeve said, “Why did you come up here, Sheriam Sedai?”

Egwene's right to point out that Nynaeve's questioning here is not remotely circumspect, but she's right that risks are necessary. Sadly, neither notices that Sheriam's refusal to answer is exactly what keeps her so suspect.

But when she reached the door to her room, the heavy bolt was gone. Only the jagged chip in the stone beside the door said it had ever been there.

Sheriam already took care of that for Egwene, and again is being bound by the need for secrecy to avoid calling her out directly.

“Forgive me, Sheriam Sedai,” she said hastily, dropping a curtsy and settling her cloak on her shoulders at the same time. “This . . . finding a dead man—a . . . a Gray Man!—it made me cold. If we may go now?”

Not the best excuse, but believable enough. Sheriam wouldn't see through it immediately except for how she's in the know.

Nynaeve rounded on her. “What are you babbling about? Have you forgotten what we’re doing?”

Nynaeve demands realistic dialogue only and will not condescend to Egwene's very forced attempts to worldbuild about how Healing works.

She never wondered who stabbed him.

Because she knows! Why are you two not more suspicious about this?????

Next time: Nynaeve kicks hot coeds out of her bedroom!

[climeslover]

I was tagged by @mootmuse:

rules: make a poll with five of your all-time favorite characters, and then tag five people to do the same. see which character is everyone's favorite.

I was given leeway to choose characters based on my own criteria, which I did, but it's not very unified. I tend to think of characters in relation to the people around the stories. Like, what purpose does this character serve? Others are actually just specific characters that I loved growing up that helped me out of bad times. So, I guess unifying theme is, 'Top Five Characters that Taught Me Something Valuable About Life'. I would tag people, but I dread tagging people... so if you are a mutual and you'd like to do this, you can consider yourself tagged by me and tag me in your replies. Personal rambles about my choices beneath the cut...

Death here can be considered Discworld's DEATH, because I do love him, but it's also just my love for humanity's need to personify death in storytelling. It's Charon the Ferryman, Grim from Billy & Mandy, the Angel of Death, Death in Bill & Ted's Bogus Journey, from Supernatural, City of Angels, Meet Joe Black, and it's a black or red skeleton dancing in the streets of paintings to represent horrible plagues. It's a little twisted, but as a child without firsthand experience with death, I found the concept very reassuring. That one day everything ends, your pain and even the people that hurt you aren't able to escape it. That we're all equal in death.

The Trickster is because there are so many characters in this archetype that I love, that I had to trace it back or it'd be just a list of tricksters modern and mythological. The Trickster has information, and masterfully uses it to shape the story; usually with some comeuppance in the end that feels cathartic for the audience. (Hermes, Loki, mythologies from everywhere.) For their own amusement, sure, but it often serves a purpose in the greater story. (This is also, in part, why I love some detective/law stories regardless of how ridiculous they are; Sherlock, Columbo, Perry Mason, Brooklyn Nine-Nine, CSI...) The Trickster taught me what he taught many others that answers and justice aren't black and white. That morality isn't an immutable law. (Even though this is perverted for TV Copaganda with the idea that justice isn't immutable, so it's whatever we make up on the spot BS.) Sherlock Holmes was first introduced to me through the original stories, but later the Granada TV series where he was played by Jeremy Brett. I loved him because he gave me hope as a child that there were adults that functioned on reason. That reason/logic was a worthwhile thing to pursue with worthwhile material gains. As a child raised by reactionary adults, it was a very soothing idea. (As an adult I see now there are many 'logics' and they do tend to serve a purpose, even if against my own.) Sherlock Holmes is everywhere now and I enjoy seeing more interpretations of him. Willow Ufgood (from the movie Willow) was one of my first movie crushes. He was loved and kind to his children. He helped a child because his own children asked him too. If you're still reading or been here a while, you've probably noticed I have some issues with how children are treated. Anyway, this was probably one of my first times seeing a male (patriarch of his small family) care for a child, and defend the decision to the rest of his community. That there were men out there like that was a revelation to little me. It didn't matter that the baby was supposed to save the world or whatever, cause at first Willow didn't know that. Just that she was a lost baby. (Also liked the stop-motion animation... AND that the final showdown was two old women wrestling in the rain.) Ellen Ripley! A woman with a job! In space! Getting all grease smeared like an action hero! Legit, as it is for many people I'm sure, Ripley was a realization for me that women are hot. Like, I had inklings... Anyway, she was also a person stuck in an unbelievably horrible situation and instead of being crushed by it completely was like... well... no one else is going to do anything about it... so she just did it. This mindset helped me a lot. As you can tell I personally had horrible role-models, so I borrowed from stories. (Alien also hit a lot of other things that are interests for me: Artificial life/Androids, Monsters/Biology/Physiology, Practical Effects, Visual art in general, and story-telling especially as the franchise added more movies.)

[littlecherryhuanlin]

Ghost of You- Nakamoto Yuta

You may like: Love At Dawn with NCT Jaemin

Disclaimer: This story revolves around death (Yuta is a Ghost), so if you don't feel comfortable reading this type of content or believe that some trigger can be activated please don't read.

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Mainly fluff, but also contains the use of bad words, morbid themes, explicit angst, bullying, arguments, death of the main character and mentions of a car accident, not recommended for minors.

The crowd of people pushing each other as they walked excitedly through the park, only served to confirm what YN already expected: The Neo House was famous, not that YN has never participated in any of the group's “events” before, far from it; after almost 3 long years of friendship with Haechan, the young woman was even considered an honorary member of the fraternity (according to Jungwoo, who stated the fact after YN rejected Jaehyun for the tenth time during the first year), however, the amount of people in the place was too much even for the Neos, which only pointed out how wrong she was in recommending that the fraternity do something else for the annual event that year, but after all what fault was she in thinking that no one would give in an entire park for a bunch of college kids? Food stalls stretched for meters, fraternity members were spread out working, the whole place was active, packed with hundreds of excited people and even a discount system had been organized for the entire park from the rides to the official stores.

YN couldn't help but let out a sigh as she unsuccessfully searched for an acquaintance; since NingNing had abandoned her as soon as they arrived at the park she had already gotten lost three times while trying to find the agreed meeting point, sending a brief message to Haechan asking him to meet her in front of the red shooting tent, she put her cell phone away and turned to face the large plushies displayed as possible prizes when she heard a voice whisper beside her:

- You lost? - A tall red-haired guy wearing a black jacket was staring at her with a smile on his face waiting for an answer from her which never came- The game, you couldn't win?

- Hmm? – realizing just at the moment that she was staring at him she turned back to the plushies to hide the shade of red painted on her cheeks, he was gorgeous, ethereal if she was honest with her words- oh no, I kind of lost myself and I'm waiting for a friend to pick me up.

- Oh, I understand, so I'll try my luck then - a few minutes passed while the boy kept himself busy in the game and she kept herself busy checking him out and her phone for any answer from her friend - Ok, it seems that your friend ditched u - seeing that the guy had given up on the game and was now staring at her YN nodded in confirmation, making a mental note to kill Haechan the next day- You could come with me- at the sound of the boy's voice she looked up in confusion- Well, it turns out that my friends ditched me too and I don't know about you, but I didn't come here for nothing and since we are both alone now why don't we keep each other company tonight?

- I don't know...- YN looked around to make sure none of her friends were in sight looking for her then she analyzed her options: stand there being judged by everyone passing by, go home and lose all time she'd spent getting dressed and going to the venue or have fun with the handsome stranger— Alright, let's go.

Three hours later as she walked by the boy's side she was sure that was the best choice she had ever made, they went on so many different rides, ate so much and laughed so hard the whole night, she wasn't even sure if she had grabbed his hand on the haunted house or the hurricane, but she definitely wasn't complaining, nor was he, looking extremely comfortable as he dragged her to one of the secluded benches. Shortly as they were seated, he released her hand, and despite wanting to protest she busied herself with feasting on the sweet they'd just acquired, until he came closer, his feline eyes locked on hers, making she anxious, to her, an eternity had passed before he leaned in, soft cherry-flavored lips touching hers, his free hand moving to cup her face, hers pulling at his shirt trying to hold him closer. As they parted he was smiling at her, she almost pulled him back mesmerized by him, low voice bringing her back to reality.

- I've been wanting to do this all night... -she smiled averting her face embarrassed, it was obvious that she wanted the same - did you have fun? - he let out a light laugh seeing the girl shake her head quickly in affirmation while saying that she had never had so much fun in an amusement park before, he took her hand again intertwining their fingers as she leaned on him looking at the stars a comfortable silence settling in- It's late, maybe I can take you home?

YN was close to asking him to do so when her cell phone rang, Haechan's name glowing red on the screen, sending him a silent apology the young woman answered the phone to hear Haechan scream while asking where the hell she was and demand her not to move as he was going to find her.

- Well I guess you'll have to go home alone - she explained after ending the call - my friend is coming to find me right now.

- So - he pulled her away placing a kiss on her forehead - I think it's time for us to part ways princess - he kissed her again, this time a needy kiss completely different from the previous one, full of desire and in a way hungry -  I'll never forget about tonight, my dear.

YN was about to answer him when a distant voice made her turn around, seeing Haechan at far she stood up and called him back, turning to find nothing but anything around, he was gone, not even giving her the chance to ask for his phone number.

- Where did your new friend go?

- I don't know what you were talking about!

- Your body disagrees, you're blushing like crazy.

- I'm tired Haechan, let's go home, pls...

When YN met with the others on Wednesday to help tally the results of the event - fundraising, profits, tickets, and more - everyone was excited and the girl was assigned to sort food along with other "fraternity" girls.

- Did you go home on Saturday YN? - Johnny's girlfriend questioned while helping the girl move some milk cartons.

- Me?

- Uhun, I remember seeing everyone but you.

- Oh no, I was- she stopped to contemplate not sure what she should say, choosing to avoid further questions, she decided to approach the red-haired guy as a friend - with a friend.

- Haechan? - it was Jeno's sister's turn to join the conversation.

- Haechan stayed with the boys all night - said Renjun's girlfriend - as well as YangYang and Jeno.

- What matters - Kun's girlfriend approached, rubbing the girl's shoulders - is if YN had fun.

- It was really fun actually, we did a lot of things that I honestly don't think Haechan would let me do if I was with him.

-Looks like you really enjoyed yourself- Renjun's girlfriend joked when she noticed YN was blushing- so are you going to tell us who your new boyfriend is?

-He's not my boyfriend- YN replied a little louder than she should have, catching the attention of Taeil who was on a phone call, apologizing briefly while reinforcing to the girls that she had absolutely no boyfriend- He was just a friend, I already told you.

- Then tell us which of your friends was with you - the girl continued pressing - why all this secrecy?

- It was just someone I met there - the girl finally let it out noting how a little argument had started between her friends' girlfriends over her - a guy I met after Ningning abandoned me.

- YN you were walking around with a stranger ??- Johnny's girlfriend rejoined the conversation having clearly heard the last part- that's dangerous.

- He didn't look dangerous at all - the whole group was looking at her intently now - he was funny and handsome, very handsome in fact.

- Our YN has a crush - joked Jeno's sister- and what's his name?

- I don't have a crush and I don't know- fuck ,YN wanted to get into a hole, of course, she had to forget to ask his name- I didn't ask...

- You spent all night long with someone and didn't ask their name? -One of the girls asked.

-Oh come on YN, why are you hiding his name? - Renjun's girlfriend asked in an accusing tone - none of us will steal it from you, you know.

Johnny's girlfriend intervened in the joke after seeing YN clearly fidgeting uncomfortably, asking everyone to speed up the work and little by little all of them went back to their tasks, all except Renjun's girlfriend who kept asking questions about the boy. When they all sat down a few hours later to rest that's when YN lost his temper.

- Can you please shut up - the girl said irritated having completely lost her cool under the girl's insinuations - I already told you everything and you keep acting like a dick.

- How the fuck?- the girl barked louder approaching making YN stand up, the others still stunned by the girl's outburst just watched the younger one now with an accusing finger close to YN's face- Listen here, you Lying little bitch, it's not our fault you don't have enough friends to hang out with and need to invent a fake boyfriend to make yourself feel good- the room was now quite crowded with some of the boys who had come to see what the commotion was all about, Jeno's sister pulling the angry girl back while Kun's girlfriend led YN to another room - I'm just curious - she could hear the girl talking loudly - I mean none of us saw her all night and now she says she was with someone that she doesn't even know the name? She's obviously lying.

- I'm not a liar - YN vented in a low tone to the girl who accompanied her - everyone left me alone there and I was just glad to have someone with me that I didn't care about his name.

YN hurriedly ran away with tears in her eyes ignoring Haechan and the others calling out to her as she ran away from the house as fast as she could.

Over two weeks passed with YN completely ignoring any frat people and their relatives, even skipping some classes and keeping her phone off to avoid them. In the meantime the girl had been concentrating on trying to find out who the boy she had been with that night was, she had looked everywhere on social media, on forums and college groups, new and old and nothing. YN had also asked to several students if they knew any guy matching his description, in the end no sign that he was real other than her memories of that night, she was starting to believe that her mind had made it all up when she was cornered by Johnny, Haechan and Taeyong in her apartment on a Friday.

-We just want to talk to you... -Taeyong said while the girl tried to close the door in their faces- YN, please, we're worried!

- I don't need you to feel that way.

- Don't be an asshole YN - Johnny said entering the house followed by the others - You don't answer our calls, don't show up for classes, didn't look for or contact any of us for two weeks!

- We're your friends you brat - Haechan said intervening in the conversation - if that's because of what that weirdo said.

- I wasn't lying and I don't need my friends to accuse me of it either - protested YN interrupting.

-I know you didn't lie I saw you guys together- Haechan said as if it was obvious as he sat on the couch next to Taeyong who gestured for her to do the same- Danm YN, I even teased you about it that night.

-Here- Taeyong handed her a yearbook- we found out you were looking for him while you know we were looking for you- Taeyong opened the book and pointed to a boy apparently Japanese with dark hair, at that moment Johnny put a glass of water in front of her on the coffee table as he sits next to the others - Nakamoto Yuta- the girl gave him a questioning look as she took the book from his hands and took a closer look at the boy's face- Johnny remembered seeing someone similar to the description Haechan gave us in one of the yearbooks while working in the library last year.

- I wasn't sure where exactly it was so it took us a while to find it - said the eldest while eating a snack that she was sure she had hidden earlier.

- What? I looked for him everywhere in the media, in college, and nothing- now analyzing the other pages of the yearbook, YN found herself confused by the dating on the cover- class of 98?- she watched as the boys exchanged strange looks between themselves- I think you guys made a mistake, there's no way this is possible- she decreed- this guy should be on his 40 or something, and I'm telling you I definitely wasn't with an old man that night.

-Look again YN- Haechan leaned over opening the book to the previous page while looking for something on his phone- imagine his hair on a dark red and boom - he almost hit her excitedly pointing a finger at the screen - are you really gonna tell me that this isn't him?

She took the device from his hands, lost between her friend's cell phone and the old photo from the yearbook, she certainly noticed the strange similarities between the boy from the park and the guy from the old pages, she sure did it, but the edited photo on Haechan’s phone who showed off a red-haired Yuta took her to a whole new level of conformation and even though the girl wasn't talking to any of them as she muttered meaningless questions trying to prove to herself that none of that was possible, Taeyong answered her.

-We have a theory - he said gently as he gestured to Johnny who held out his phone to her - please don't make a scandal.

Why would I- YN stood there frozen as a newspaper page dated November 2000 flashed on the screen, "Drunken driver crashes into a college group: Yonsei basketball prodigy among fatalities" despite the shocking headline what left YN terrified was the photo attached to it; Yuta along with a few other students smiling broadly, stunned she looked to her friends for an explanation- Ten did this? -the three of them quickly shook their heads in denial- so who dit it?

- It's a genuine story YN- Taeyong moved to sit next to her- the library lady said she remembered the accident and that we can probably find the original newspaper there, you can check it for yourself if you don't believe it.

-What does this mean? - tears welled up in the girl's eyes as she looked at the older one next to her, Johnny joining them handing her the glass of water while Haechan just stared at the window - did I dream about it or what?

- Or you had a date with a ghost - Haechan faced her friend - had a date with a hot ghost on the day of the dead.

- You're not helping.- the youngest shrugged his shoulders while Johnny took the lead to explain the boy's words- you know it was November 2nd, the day of the dead.

- You see - it was Taeyong who was speaking now having noticed the confusion on the younger's face - this guy is definitely on another plane and in some cultures the day of the dead is the day they can roam freely across the land.

- You went crazy- the girl got up moving away from the boys- A ghost? I was very close to him you know, he was very real, there has to be some kind of misunderstanding here.

- Oh I know, I saw how close you were when he was sticking his tongue down your throat, which just means- Haechan said approaching the girl with a mocking tone- that a ghost almost fucked you cutie.

As soon as the forbidden topic - as Haechan named the girl's date with a ghost (which he'd rather dismiss as funny than admit that he'd been totally freaked out when he found the accident article) - it was closed after lengthy jokes and theories from the boys, the night was filled with delicious snacks and complaints about how she'd tossed them aside because of Renjun's stupid girlfriend. YN felt relieved to have her friends back, however, a couple of hours later the girl found herself sitting on the bed staring at the heavy rain hitting the window while thinking about what had happened.

In fact, a little after the boys left she went into detective mode, and now with a name she had scoured dozens of websites looking for information about the guy, info that she had found and that led her to believe in the theory brought by her friends, which she would definitely never admit to them, despite her exhaustion YN didn't think that she could sleep that night, in fact, she didn't think she would be able to sleep well for a while now.

Please do not copy and translate this work without permission, all creative work is copyrighted and therefore plagiarism is a crime.

©littlecherryhuanlin 2022 - 2023

[aerislei]

I would love to see you tackle 79 🤩 (pairing of your choice!)

79. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

Oh man you've got my number Zim lmao. This one is riiiight up my alley way. Written as today's warm up before diving back into Gaia Santa! In true warm up fashion this is not polished in any significant way

--

Zack didn't really know how long he'd been on the run. Didn't fully know what had happened to the world around him in the time lost, either. It must have been months ago, when he'd woken in a lab with a lone scientist. Not in a tank, not being worked on.

Zack had seized the opportunity. Had escaped that place. He'd run. The woman had never raised a hand to try and stop him, and in hindsight some part of him wondered if she had done it on purpose. It didn't matter, she was long behind him.

Zack was being hunted. Whispers through the towns he briefly touched on for supplies were that Shinra had crumbled, that weapons had attacked the planet, that some giant meteor had been summoned down on them. None of it made sense.

None of it mattered, either. Zack was being hunted - Shinra must still be standing, must still be seeking his demise or his control. Zack would not allow them to have either. Zack might've been convinced it was some third party, but he had spotted the tell-tale uniform of the turks. Reno's bright red hair stood out shockingly, and the black suits weren't very good for blending in.

They were hunting him. Zack wasn't going to give them a chance to pin him down, even if he did want to know why they were still hunting him after all this time. Surely they didn't think one SOLDIER no one would even remember anymore could cause that much trouble?

It wasn't safe to try and seek out Aerith, to try and find Cloud. He would only lead danger to them.

Caution, and being chased, drove him away from the scattered towns. And, sure, Zack had been taught to survive off of the land, but that didn't make it easy, especially not with the metabolism of a SOLIDER. But he'd done it before, he'd kept himself and Cloud alive for nine months while he ran from Shinra. He could do it again.

Had to do it again, even, since he wasn't ready to give up yet. But he was so tired. Tired of running, of being chased. Of potentially bringing danger to people wherever he went, for only the kindness of trying to help him.

It wore on him. Less fuel than he needed to survive. Drinkable water was harder to procure. Barely able to sleep for the threat of those following him and of monsters.

Zack had, perhaps, miscalculated his own strength. Or perhaps he had miscalculated these particular monsters. This wasn't one he remembered seeing in the area before, vaguely humanoid with unsettlingly long limbs and feathered but torn wings. They reminded him of the wings that had grown on Genesis and Angeal.

The thought made his heart clench a little.

The beast was also horrifically strong and faster than anything Zack had ever seen, short of a SOLDIER. Zack had been getting by against most things with the gun he'd procured, Shinra make for sure, and he had a decent amount of ammunition. But, even when he'd managed to hit it he hadn't done much more than piss it off.

The blade he'd found would maybe serve, but would require getting in far closer quarters with it than he liked given how vicious it had already proven to be.

A stop-spell from somewhere to the south slammed into the beast. ... His would-be tracker had caught up, it seemed. Thundaga followed it. They were strong, Zack wouldn't have a good time with this fight. The beast first.

Zack leveled the rifle, aiming for a head shot since the beast wouldn't be moving until the spell broke. He got one shot in before the new figure darted into the fray, moving quickly enough that their form blurred a little, making it hard to discern more than that they were dressed in black and wielding a large broad sword of some kind. A sword fighter so maybe a SOLDIER? Zack narrowed his eyes slightly, and took a step back.

Maybe he could slip away while his enemies were distracted with one another. Another step.

The injury he'd incurred from the beast twinged sharply, reminding him of its presence. A double-slash across his chest. Not too deep, not quite hard enough to break bone. It still took his breath away as it twinged. He continued his retreat, though Zack was unwilling to turn his back, unwilling to take his eyes off of his assailant until he was further away.

He wanted to know what was going to come to him.

The fight was over before he'd made it more than a handful of steps. The victor, the swordsman who had interrupted, turned to face him. Zack froze, struggling to parse what he was seeing fully.

He could run, but his options were limited.

The figure moved forward, no longer a blur. Average height and build. Blond hair. A sword that was easily the size of the buster sword in a harness on his back - but it hadn't been. Zack had seen the way he broke it into pieces during the fight.

The blond stopped about three yards away. Zack had leveled the barrel of his rifle at the figure so much on reflex that he didn't realize what he'd done until his finger rested along the guard, prepared to shoot.

The blond stopped, hands open, palms down.

"Zack, it's going to be okay. I just want to help."

Zack's first reflex was to half-growl low in his throat, angry at being lied to. But there was something about the voice, about his face. He was... familiar.

It... couldn't be?

"Please let me help you."

Confusion and uncertainty warred with the desperate desire for this to be real. "Cloud?"

"Yeah, it's me." Cloud took a step forward.

Zack took a step back. "Why are you hunting for me, why are you helping Shinra find me?"

"I'm not." Cloud said, tone almost offended. "I'm looking for you for me. Because I care about you, because I missed you, because I couldn't bear the thought of leaving you on the run alone once I realized you were out here." A breath out. "Shinra's gone. Not looking for you, not looking for anything."

"I saw the turks."

"Yeah 'cause Reno's an idiot. When word got out from the lab that the attempt to, like, release you didn't go as hoped he tried to find you himself. Cissnei read him the riot act for it." A pause. "I'm still pissed they didn't bother to tell me they had you alive. I should have been there."

Zack wasn't sure he believed it fully. Wasn't sure he dared to. But it was Cloud, and Cloud of all people wouldn't hand him back over to Shinra. Logically, Zack knew that. Zack knew what Cloud had been through at their hands, too, after all.

"You're safe now. I've got you." Cloud said, as if sensing the uncertainty. "Let me help you tend to that, and then I'll take you somewhere quiet. Get some food, some rest. Just a little at a time, yeah?"

Zack wasn't sure when he'd lowered the rifle, but Cloud took it as something like acceptance, closing the space between them slowly. A hand on his arm guided Zack down to sit against the base of a tree he'd been about to duck behind when Cloud had caught up with him.

Warm, solid. Real.

Zack couldn't help it, couldn't help the way one of his hands set itself against Cloud's knee. A lifeline, a tether to reality that didn't require trapping one of Cloud's hands while he worked. Up this close, he could see the metal work of the ornament on the pauldron - a wonderfully detailed metal wolf.

Zack swayed a little. "Think I'm gonna..." The world was dimming around the edges. A familiar, if disquieting sensation.

"I'm here, I've got you." Cloud whispered, and as the darkness engulfed Zack he thought it sounded a little like a promise.

[thuganomxcs]

“Mr. Urameshi,” Zelda turns when he enters the room, a smile lighting her eyes. “According to my rules, today is your birthday, correct?”

She reaches into her desk then and pulls out a thick piece of paper with a simple, but bold, design along the edges and black calligraphy filling the top.

“I’ll admit, I wasn’t certain what you would enjoy,” her smile turns apologetic as she passes the piece paper over to Yusuke, “But I have noticed that you always seem to enjoy ramen. This restaurant is said to be quite good—”

Good enough that you could only get a reservation if you were a celebrity, well-liked politician, or a royal.

“—I have made arrangements and they have assured me that they will accommodate you and any guests you bring at a date which best suits you. This is my gift to you, so please make sure you and your guests enjoy to the fullest extent. Happy birthday, Mr. Urameshi. Thank you for your protection.”

❝ poltergeist report: 𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐘𝐔𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐄 | 𝙰𝙲𝙲𝙴𝙿𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙶.

One of the other guards instructed Yusuke that he was summoned by the princess herself. Curiosity guided him toward her office, wondering JUST what she had to say to him or maybe it was a 𝙟𝙤𝙗 𝙝𝙚 𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙖𝙘𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙝. Hopefully no temples for her to just overwork herself and worry him to death. 

━━   ❝   𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭' 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬?   ❞  Never thought he’d call a woman ‘princess’ and they’d actually…be of royal stature. But now she spoke and slowly came to the reason why she had summoned him. HUH, it was his birthday..the hell did she know about i- Or the better question is how did she remember it better than he did? 𝗢𝗛 𝗧𝗛𝗔𝗧'𝗦 𝗥𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧, it’s never been much of a prioritized event to him. However, it was definitely something for her, she was quite the ruler to care about those serving under her individually.

His hands took the piece of paper, the designs and pen strokes were beautiful. Then he heard her mentioning of his love for food, ramen specifically. What she had given him was a get-a-meal-free ticket. HIM and a guest of his choice of all things. The gift itself brought a smile on his face. “I love a good bite t’ eat as much as the next guy but if ya kissed me it’d be just as great.” He couldn’t help but tease her a little before keeping the piece of paper in his hand.

“Thanks a lot though, this really means so much t’ me. Why not be my plus one? Hylia..or what you call her knows you need some R and R, some time t’ smell the broth ya know?”

[desisapphicx]

Midnight Ruin

Chapter 1

The woman at the head of the table was adjusting the pleats on her saree, and when she was done, she cleared her throat and drew the attention of her family.

"Before beginning our breakfast, I want to make sure all the preparations have been done for the ball," She said.

"Yes, Amma." answered Pushkar. He sat to her left and his wife Revathy was next to him, perking up at the mention of the ball, she loved parties more like she thrived on them, and probably she could die in one if she had a choice. Sadly, her misaligned priorities sometimes hindered her in parenthood. Not that she didn't love her hyperactive kids, she did, but she could be so unwitting at times, that she would be blind to her kids' needs, this has been one of the few factors for petty squabbles that ensues between her and Pushkar. The two seats next to her remain empty, usually occupied by her twins. The little tots were not the only missing but their Grandpa as well, so his seat opposite Revathy remain untouched. The other seats were filled by two sets of uncles and aunts. Who were just waiting for their moment to speak, but considering how Latha was they'd rather stuff their mouths with delicacies set on the table.

"Did you invite Iyers, their presence is impo-- where is Akanksha?" Latha began imposingly as usual but her question ended in confusion; eyes searching hastily for her daughter. She looked at her son, raising her thick brows in question.

"Um..." Pushkar tried to answer but she stopped him.

"Jaya, ask her to come, now."

"Yes, Amma" said the servant.

Latha was an imperious woman, she demanded everyone's attention as soon as she stepped into a room, such was her tenor. "I don't like this indiscipline," she clicked her tongue; the indignation on her face was so evident. She was scowling at her cutlery when she heard fading footsteps near the stairs, and as her daughter-shaped figure ambled near her view, her scowl deepened.

She took a good look at her daughter, dressed in a mid-length beige Kurti with handwoven golden embroidery running down her neckline and her sleeve cuffs, matching perfectly with her amber-gold cotton silk pants. Akanksha's dark brown hair was parted in middle but gleaned together in a bun at the back, yet few had escaped, now curling around her temple, her black bindi rivaled the mole sitting right at the smiling line of her left cheek. Her golden bangles chimed as she took a seat right to her mother.

When the savory whiff of sambar and the sight of fluffy idlies beckoned to her, she couldn't resist, moreover her stomach was making weird noises of someone starved for eons. She started serving herself when she heard her mother clear her throat. "Do you want it?" She held a piece of idli to her mother, her mother shook her head in disapproval. Akanksha just shrugged--- she was nonchalant about her mother's attitude and so she continued having. Apparently, she was the only one who could stand on her toes with her amma.

"You can continue," She said to her mother.

"I cannot comprehend how dense can you be," her mother exclaimed.

Akanksha paid no mind to it, Latha stared at her for some more time--- going over ways to subdue her daughter, she huffed in annoyance before smoothly transitioning into her placid poise.

"As I was saying, Iyers are important and also some other thing I wanted to say," Latha voiced and the silence that followed was quite extended, a bit too long that even Akanksha's interest piqued, not much, but she lent her ear, anyway.

"I want to invite the Kamats." Akanksha stopped having, piping hot sambar burned her throat as she took a big gulp and her spoon fell on the plate with a loud clank. "What?" She said before adding, "Are you serious? Why them?" She glanced at her brother, trying to understand if he was involved in this utter-ridiculous decision but by the clueless look on his face, she knew not. She looked back at her mother, whose serene face faltered for a moment, the hatred for the family was monumental, it snaked with its bitter venom in all of them, and yet here they were, inviting their foes with gilded smiles.

"The decision is already made, it is not up for debate" She quieted the jabbering room. She motioned for them to start with their tiffin, before looking at Akanksha with a tinge of malice in her eyes and a mocking smile, she said, "You'll be the one hosting"

***

Kesar was tapping to the radio's rhythm on his thin steering wheel, the little pitter-patter on the window pane was blending perfectly with the music streaming into the car. "Should we stop at the tea stall? The weather is good to have a cup, don't you think?" he took a glance at his friend and furrowed his brows.

Akanksha was fiddling with her pearl necklet. Her ears were red and itchy, but she wouldn't give in, she didn't want to feed her nervous habits but her brain was fast in its functioning; sending a stimulus and her hands were quick enough to catch those brain signals and there she was scratching at it, but it yielded no satisfaction whatsoever. Looking at her Kesar was concerned as to what is going on with his good friend.

"What is it?"

"Nothing"

He stared at her for a few moments, "You can tell me"

"Amma has put me in a funny situation" She laughed wryly. She went quiet after that and Kesar hummed for her response, he wanted to prod her into telling him what is bothering her but he knew otherwise.

"Well, how about we have some coffee?"

"Yeah, that would be great" She looked out the window losing herself in the pitter patter of the rain against the car window.

***

For Akanksha, the room was too crowded, but she had to push through it, she greeted a few people on her way, it wouldn't hurt to be polite sometimes. When she made up her mind and settled down at her seating bench, she was overcome with a gnawing feeling of absence, of something familiar yet strange. Her nails traced the doodles etched on the wooden slab and her eyes picked up the vagueness of her thoughts and began searching for that familiarity, and soon they found their way to the lean figure sitting against the column of the banyan tree, the breeze blew through the dark brown tresses and flipped the pages of the book too hastily; the person was struggling to manage between untangling and reading. Before she could see more of it, the curtain was drawn between her and the view. She could hear a distant thank you, and when she pulled herself from her hazed thoughts, the class had already begun.

The lecture was halfway through when there was a knock on the door, and her curly letters came to a halt; the class got mute for a beat before the yammering noises swelled the space. The door was opened to a woman costumed in a burgundy cable-knit sweater and pleated dress pants; her sleeves pulled back to her elbows showed off the gold bracelets and square-dialed watch, and her brown ankle boots were squeaky clean. The image of the woman seemed to have slowly seeped into her mind and when recognition hit her, instantly her gut recoiled with discontent.

After deftly convincing the professor to let her in, Prithvi walked into the classroom. While she made herself comfortable in her seat, she sensed someone watching her and when she turned around she caught a pair of Hazel eyes glaring at her, she couldn't help but smirk at Akanksha. And Akanksha sneered at her. Prithvi laughed it off and started taking notes. When the class was over, Akanksha and Prithvi were the only ones to leave at last. Prithvi made hurried notes, packed her case, and took quick steps toward the door. Meanwhile, Akanksha took all this in and just stared at the other girl's departure, a million thoughts running amuck in her mind. She was still thinking through, the act of inviting Prithvi would be so embarrassing and at the same time infuriating. What made her mother invite their family? What had changed? Guess she would never know, or would she?

***

They were all in the canteen. Most of them had their tiffin carriers opened on their tables and they all ate up their pieces of the meal and shared with their friends here and there, tasting different spices from all the families. Among them, Akanksha sat at her table along with her gang. Kesar was at the canteen counter to fill up his plate of parotta and sabzi, and Padma was mindlessly gazing through the newspaper, bored with the lack of gossip but the article about the exotic perfume caught her attention so her eyes were soaking it up. Shashi, Akanksha's cousin was nowhere to be seen.

"Looks like Shashi is cozying up with the enemy," said Venky. All the friends at the table immediately looked at Akanksha, letting out various sounds of oohs and aahs. They all wanted to see what she would do. And she remained stoic. She was super irritated that's for sure, but she didn't want that anyone to see that she was even bothered by this silly stunt by her stupid cousin. Shashi arrived all smiles at their table and Padma who was now caught up with the scene so far, asked her, "What were you doing with her?" Shashi replied, "Why, of course inviting her to my family ball" Akanksha's wits were off the charts just listening to her cousin but she was unflinching about maintaining her teetering patience for some reason. "Who told you to do that?"

"No one, I wanted to invite her, so I did"

"I am the one who is in charge here, without asking me, how could you invite her?"

"My dad said I could invite whoever I wanted to, and I have heard your mom has okayed inviting the Kamats so I thought, it wouldn't do any harm,"

Akanksha wanted to say so many things but controlled herself. "Well you thought wrong, you cannot invite people without going through me first, I hope that's clear to you, next time use that head of yours for something other than flirting" Shashi's cheeks got red in embarrassment and Akanksha was breathing rapidly, she urgently needed to get out of here. She opened the door of her blue 1950 Buick Road Master, she felt somewhat relieved that she was back to her space, her head leaning back on the car seat, the agitation in her was calming when she heard a knock on her window. Prithvi was there. She motioned to roll down the windows. Why doesn't this end? Thought Akanksha, she rolled her eyes, and complied. "You shouldn't have made such a scene there Princess"

"Mind your own business"

"I would've, if it wasn't about me"

"Whatever you want to preach, do it fast, I am getting late,"

"Your mother should also teach you more about how to be selfless,"

"You-"

"Excuse me, I forgot for a second, with whom I am talking, it must run in your blood to humiliate others"

"Is that all?" Akanksha started her car, and reversing it, and she heard Prithvi calling out from her rear view mirror,

"Go on Princess, run away, being nice doesn't suit you anyways"

Akanksha just took off, not heeding to her.

***

A/N: Ah! after a long time, I am here. Sorry for the delay... As I said before, this story is updated very slowly, I don't even know, if people even read this shit. Anyways, if you find this chapter to be subpar and if you come across any grammatical errors, I am really sorry. I have written this in a rush and I will edit this someday, so whoever is reading this, thank you 💖

P.S: My recent favourite listen is, The Winner Takes It All by ABBA, what's your favourite?

[greatandquestionablecontent]

4 -- in which Delta's body remembers Jade

In the Mirror I Saw Who You Could Have Been

previous masterpost/summary brief magic torture, mostly the torture of an awkward conversation where you don't know what to say. also that feeling when you discover you have a girlfriend you don't remember at all.

~~~~

Draining the second prisoner was even easier than the first. It came as naturally as drinking, taking cautious sips at first, and then gulps, and then chugging and chugging and ignoring the gasps and screams.

 And like downing a jug of water without pause, Delta found they’d forgotten to breathe, and they panted through a freshly healed throat. A laugh bubbled out, without their meaning it to. They felt more alive than ever, envigorated, thrilled.

It was short work directing all that new energy towards healing the last of their wounds, and then they were up to examine the tent, adjust their uniform, and step out into the bleak foggy daylight.

About a half dozen other red, round yurts formed a semicircle around a lone hand-draw well. A bit farther off, as if added as an afterthought, were a few more in varying shapes and sizes, down to what probably served only to house a vault toilet. Up the muddy hill, Delta could see a sea of other, more modest colors – the rest of the camp.

A pair of dressed-down youths passing between tents caught sight of Delta, exchanged a couple of words, and hastily altered their course, shifting to a clipped march. Delta simply watched as they stepped onto the wooden pallet that served as a doorstep, most likely announcing Delta’s less-than-miraculous return to life. Off they went back to their own large tent – barracks, perhaps?

And out came Archel Constance.

Some part of Delta remembered her. It only made sense, but each time they saw her, it came to mind again. They found themself erecting mental walls they didn’t yet fully understand, drawing their magic in tight, checking their expression gave away nothing.

“You took your time,” she remarked dryly as she approached.

“My meridians got damaged, ma’am,” they replied, since that had been her suggested explanation and it sounded as good as any. They tried to make their tone the right mix of apologetic but self assured.

And then they thought, perhaps that was erring too much on the side of formality. Were they the same rank as Constance? They decided to drop the ma’am, but then every sentence after that, wondered if that was the right choice. She certainly acted like she was in charge.

Out of that crimson battle coat, she now wore all black, a leather jacket almost armor-like in its style, tall boots bizarrely mud-free, her hair neatly and perfectly rebraided. This, Delta felt, was how she ought to look. Though she was a good bit shorter than them, their extra height abruptly seemed like a vulnerability rather than an asset; an animal on its hind legs, belly exposed to something more dangerous. They took a step back, then caught themself, wondering if that was too obvious a sign of weakness.

The rest of the conversation was similarly mentally taxing, between analyzing every twitch of their own body language, reciting lies and fabricating new ones on the spot, and trying to read this woman. She spoke the way you might imagine a hardened military leader would – clipped, to the point, nearly toneless, almost a parody in perfection. Though she was surely magically capable of smoothing away the age lines by her mouth, they suited her, a physical medallion that she had never once smiled in however many years she’d worn this face.

She demanded again where they’d been for so long, and Delta knew she must be aware of the changes.

“I got lost in the mountains, and without anyone to feed on, I couldn’t heal myself when I got injured.”

“In what way were you injured? Did you not have a compass on you?”

As Delta carefully re-told the story Andromeda had crafted for them, Constance’s eyes narrowed, but she showed no other signs of belief or disbelief. She asked altogether too many questions, and all Delta could think was that any moment now, they would fail her test and this all would have been for naught.

“Trinity and Constance are the ones you need to be most careful of,” Andromeda had warned them, more than once. “And Constance trained your previous self, so she’ll notice any discrepancies.”

That much was obvious. What discrepancies they were, and what Constance thought of them, Delta hadn’t the faintest clue.

“From what I know, it’s a severe breach of N’Vitri etiquette for her to read your mind or attempt to interfere with your magic in any way, so she shouldn’t be able to know exactly what happened from the surface … You understand how essential it is you don’t allow her to go poking around inside your brain. As you’re no longer her apprentice, you should be entitled to a certain amount of your own privacy. Remember that, and don’t be afraid to use silence.”

The previous Delta had, apparently, been “quiet.”

“Why did you vanish from Trinity’s detection?”

“I honestly don’t know.”

It was almost a relief when two more women arrived to interrupt the impromptu interrogation. One was tall, dark, and muscular, with long black hair in a thick braid, wearing a simple white shirt, sturdy pants, and boots much like Constance’s. The other was short, pale, freckled, with short, tousled copper hair, dressed in a lacy layered skirt and a floral sleeveless top quite incongruous with the military camp, even for plainclothes attire.

The short one ran, canvas shoes slapping in the mud, and the tall one kept up with her in easy long strides.

“Would you look at that,” the tall woman drawled.

The short one stopped abruptly in front of Delta, like a horse whose reins had been yanked.

“You’re back,” she said, her voice small but ringing with barely contained emotion. Across the space between them, Delta could easily pick up her energy churning inside her body.

Delta nodded, and then, when that seemed insufficient, they offered, “I’ve been healing for a couple of days.”

“Which brings up more questions,” Constance added. “Which meridians were damaged?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t conscious.”

The red-haired woman just stared, her eyes burning holes in Delta.

Her presence made them uncomfortable; every time their eyes met hers, they got a little jolt of adrenaline, and the longer she stared, the more Delta felt like she might set them on fire, slowly adding heat to their skin.

Every slight movement she made snapped their attention back to her, and she was constantly moving, fidgeting with the lace at the edge of her skirt, shifting from foot to foot, examining the mud on her canvas shoes, brushing a lock of hair from her face, itching at the ill-fitting red Archel jacket she wore over her flowery civilian clothes. Every hair on her pale legs stood at end in the biting cold, and her cheeks were flushed pink. She didn’t look like she belonged here, or in that jacket, but Delta found themself almost as afraid of her as they were of Constance.

Perhaps more?

She couldn’t be a N’Vitri, it made no sense, it didn’t feel correct, but the Archel jacket suggested she might be some other kind of mage, unless she was for some reason wearing part of someone else’s uniform. She had to have some kind of psychic power, Delta was sure of it, though she was hardly visually imposing. Everything about her energy felt different than any of the other mortals they’d met so far.

Constance noticed their distraction, of course. “You’re welcome,” she said pointedly.

For what? “Right, uh, thanks,” they said.

She scowled and scoffed, the most emotion she’d shown the entire conversation, and with that, turned sharply and set off at a brisk pace back to her own tent. The tall woman followed her immediately, falling into step at her heels like a well-trained dog, giving Delta only a backward glance.

Leaving Delta with just the red-haired girl. For a moment they almost wished Constance would stay. They’d at least been starting to get the hang of how to converse with her, at least, they thought they’d been doing alright, though they were running out of answers.

The girl bolted at them. Delta’s instinct kicked in, they tensed and took a step back, but stopped themself in time from shoving her away as she slammed her body against theirs. Her arms locked tight around them and she squeezed, hard, pressing her face into their chest, which surely smelt of blood and guts.

“You’re back. I was starting to think –-- fuck!”

She stretched up and pressed her lips to theirs, gripping their long-sleeved undershirt for leverage. Delta grappled with the instinct to shove this stranger away, but her mouth on theirs, her body against theirs, her breath warm on their face… Their entire body was alert to her. They were desperate to kiss her back, to tear at her clothes and pull her closer. Almost as much as they’d hungered to kill those men, they hungered for her, her specifically, the explosion of colors inside her and her soft freckled flesh and…

The result of this turmoil was mainly that they did nothing. They let her kiss them, they caught themself and remembered to act, and halfheartedly tried to kiss back, but it was too late. She dropped back to her heels, relinquishing her grip on their shirt, but still close enough they could smell her and feel the warmth radiating from her… if that was even a real sensation.

“I actually really worried, you were gone for so fucking long. Are you okay? I mean, I know you’re obviously not dying at the moment but –- we should get back to our tent, so we can talk in private, huh? Delta?”

So, not a succubus or hostile mage. The idea of a lover was frankly more alarming and confusing by far. They hadn’t prepared for this possibility at all. It would make keeping their act up all the more difficult, beyond simply playing the part of a N’Vitri in battle and a withdrawn loner in conversations with Constance.

She barely gave them a moment to process her presence, let alone give some kind of response. She grabbed them by the hand, faltered, and dropped their hand, hesitating and taking another step back, looking at them with the exact expression of someone who knows when something isn’t right.

“Yeah, let’s go to the tent,” they agreed. “Sorry, I’m a bit out of it. My meridians…”

Her expression melted to one of sympathy and pity, and she looped her arm in theirs and led them back to “their” tent, next door to Constance’s, and indistinguishable on the outside from any of the other red yurts.

Their tent had two beds, but one was large, made up with layers of messy blankets, obviously slept in and then leapt out of. The smaller cot had no sheets or blankets and was piled with the contents of a couple bags, more clothes in varying combinations of floral and lace and pastels, and a few spare weapons and camping supplies.

“I’ve been sleeping on the floor by Denna’s cot half the time,” the girl admitted. “In case anything happens. Constance has been – well, it’s been miserable, and she’s infuriating, but she’s been… I can’t say nice, but she really takes it seriously, the whole protecting me and not infringing on your property idea. I think she’s pissed you didn’t thank her properly for that.”

When they didn’t respond in the split second she gave them, she continued, “Maren hasn’t given me any trouble, actually I was hanging out with her and Ashrie for a bit, but we can talk about that later – but some of the soldiers have been creeps, and I think they don’t think you’re coming back – not that I’m scared to sleep alone, I just got lonely, and bored. This place sucks when you’re not around.”

“I bet it does,” they agreed, following her cue and taking their boots off at the door, taking their time unlacing the muddy strings and pretending to be focused on that task. “I’m sorry,” they added.

“It’s okay,” she said, with just enough hesitation that Delta knew it wasn’t okay at all. She sat crosslegged on the shared bed, rubbing at her goosebumped bare legs, scratching off some caked mud flecks.

“Why were you gone so long?” She asked. “What’d you tell Constance, and what’s the real reason?”

“I told her the truth.” And they repeated the story again for her, this time including all the details Constance had pressed for, about the compass and how they fractured their skull and which leg got broken and the made-up cabin in the hills where they’d finally found people to feed from again.

She was an active listener, emoting at every detail, finding even more questions to ask. When their story ended and they faded into silence, they were distinctly aware she was unsatisfied with that silence. They washed up in the basin on the table to avoid having to sit next to her on the bed, or admit they didn’t know if this place had bath tubs. The water quickly turned brown from all the grime and crusted blood.

“I bet it was a drag coming back and having to go straight to a battle,” she tried.

They gave her a little laugh. “It was.”

“And… you took longer than usual,” she prompted. “To heal.”

“Does everyone know that?”

“Yeah, probably. I’ve been waiting, of course, and they wouldn’t let me in to see you. Denna told me you got back, though, and who knows who she and Larsen will tell, but I bet a few soldiers will gossip too, and Constance’s gonna tell Trinity everything, so… yeah everybody. What happened?”

“My meridians got damaged.”

“Ahuh… and?”

They shrugged. “I’m not sure exactly what happened. I went down so fast.”

“Are you still recovering? Do you need… anything?”

“I’m fine. Just…” Another shrug. “Getting back on my feet. I’m sorry, I’m sure I’ll be back to normal soon.”

“That’s okay,” she said, clearly relieved.

Brief silence. They hoped that her chattiness might turn out in their favor, allowing them to mostly listen, and hopefully pick up more useful information.

They did as much as they could with just the basin, before accepting that anything more would just be putting the dirty water back on their skin. As they toweled dry and turned to face her, the girl crossed the tent, slowing as she closed the gap between them, as if to give them a chance to move away. When they didn't, she slung her arms around their waist. This time they kissed her first, a choice which was rewarded with a little dip in her energy, like she was finally satisfied and some of her anxiety put at ease.

They couldn’t remember kissing before, but it came easily enough. Her lips were cold but her tongue warm, and they followed her lead from gentle and cautious to deep and passionate. She sucked their tongue into her mouth and let out a quiet little moan, and despite all their hesitations and doubts, their arousal sparked.

“I love you,” she mumbled against their lips.

“Love you too,” they mumbled back, because that was how the dialogue ought to go.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “About… Before.”

“It’s fine,” they told her. “Let’s forget all about it.”

[newgenog]

REVENGE

Notes: This is part three of chapter two. If you're just stumbling across this, and haven't already done so, please stop and start by reading part one of chapter one.

I'm posting the first few parts of each chapter here on Tumblr, and then wrapping up with the full chapter on Ao3 in week three. I'll try to post something every Friday (so far, so good!).

This is a #Batwoman AU based on the ABC tv series #Revenge. I was intrigued by the character parallels, and I decided to reimagine a world where Ryan Wilder has a more intentional pursuit of vengeance. 

CHAPTER TWO - TRUST (Part Three)

Summary: Robyn Wilde continues her plot to take down Gotham's most elite lawyer and favorite Clue Master, who was the assistant district attorney and federal prosecutor in her case when she was a young Ryan Wilder.

13 HOURS BEFORE THE LEAK

Ryan and Stephanie had shared a plate of fries and had one more drink together before they’d parted ways the night before. Stephanie told Ryan that one reason she wasn’t sure working for her father was the best choice was that he was always on, and she didn't really want to be a leader in a company that didn’t take great care of their employees. She realized this wasn’t completely abnormal for law firms, but she could run the finances for an employer that understood the value of (and cost of poorly prioritized) human capital. She also hinted at not loving how her father’s firm was earning all of its revenue. She clearly didn’t want to say much, but Ryan was already versed in Arther Brown’s dealings. 

13 YEARS AGO, GOTHAM CITY COURTHOUSE Ryan sat in the stuffy, sunlit courtroom, next to her public defender and watched as the drained, somewhat rumpled lawyer doodled on her legal pad. She’d just finished delivering her closing arguments, which basically consisted of describing Ryan as a disadvantaged, underprivileged youth, and weakly pleading with the jury to not add another Black kid to Gotham’s overcrowded with kids of color detention center when she should be given a second chance. Clearly, her lawyer didn’t believe she was innocent, but she rattled off some statistics that she’d bucketed Ryan into, and spoke to a jury that didn’t represent Ryan’s peers about a topic that didn’t concern them.  There seemed to be no shortage of people Ryan didn’t know sitting behind the other lawyer. At one point or another they or their children had taken the stand to provide vague recollections of the events that took place the day her mother died. Most of the children said they didn’t see much. A couple said they saw Ryan fighting with some of the kids, and the older woman struggling with one of them over a gun. It was always too dark, with a lot of commotion, to make heads or tails of anything.  No one sat behind Ryan - who would? When she had taken the stand, she pointed to the brunette girl with bangs in the audience who had told everyone to run, and a fair skinned, dark haired boy who sat in the row behind her as the one who brought the gun. Their parents and teachers were brought to the stand for their alibi and as character witnesses. No one was asked to speak to Ryan’s character. Her attorney seemed to make little effort or have no success in tracking anyone down. Ryan had suggested going to her mother’s church at one point, but she wasn’t sure if that ever happened. When permitted by the judge, Arthur Brown, the Assistant DA, stood up to counter with his closing arguments.  Arthur: “The defense has asked you to consider if Kane County Juvenile Detention Center has the capacity to take in another person, and believes that because her client might not have had the same advantages as the other children present the day that Cora Lewis was shot, that should be reason enough to look the other way, when the woman who was caring for Miss Wilder is now dead. Instead of arguing with more statistics of those serving time in our local detention center, I’ll remind you that your role is to determine if Miss Wilder has committed a crime. More, if you believe she is responsible for the circumstances that led to her adopted mother’s death, if the foster system where Ryan Wilder would be sent is the right place to rehabilitate someone who has broken the law. The defense’s client has claimed that Beth Kane is to blame for her mother’s killing, implying that she organized the party that took place in the apartment Ms. Lewis was in the process of securing for them. You’ve heard several accounts from the children present that day who agree that Beth Kane did not organize the party they attended, and that she learned about it through conversations at school the same way that they did. Without evidence to corroborate Miss Wilder’s story, we must look at the available facts. Only the apprehended children were found with drugs, which did not include Beth Kane but did include Ryan Wilder, and a gun that was registered to Cora Lewis was used to take her life. Miss Wilder sounds like a young woman desperate to avoid facing the consequences of her actions, and who is trying to redirect the blame towards a child who comes from a loving home. Arthur Brown made it sound like Ryan was picking on poor little Beth Kane because she was rich and more loved, as though Ryan was just jealous of her. And he made Ryan’s attorney sound like an amateur (which she probably was). The statements from the other children that had been detained with Ryan were missing, and the gun, which was not her mother’s, had magically been registered to Cora Lewis with a backdate. 

It ended up being a career changing win for Arthur Brown who'd earned the nickname "Clue Master'' among his clients for making anything that would have helped Ryan's case mysteriously evaporate, and replacing them with more quizzical evidence.

Stephanie and Ryan had agreed to meet at Brown Law Offices for coffee the next morning. Arthur would randomly pop into his daughter’s office throughout any given day to rattle off some financial question that he expected her to decode on the spot, and when he did so this morning, he’d be introduced to Robyn. In return, Stephanie would be Robyn’s plus one at The Gallery, so she could play wingwoman with Luke. 

The plan worked like a charm. 

Arthur: “Stephanie, I didn’t expect you to be in a meeting on a Saturday morning.” 

Stephanie: “Dad, this is Robyn Wilde, the new CEO at Jeturian Industries. She’s new to Gotham and I invited her here for coffee. You know it can be hard to get away…” 

Arthur: “That it can. Well, good morning Ms. Wilde, and congratulations on the new role. Is everything okay with Jada Jett?”

Ryan: “Great to meet you Mr. Brown. Jada is well, just taking some time away to spend with her family. So, I’m interim CEO. And, it feels a little too soon in life for me to go by my last name, so Robyn is just fine.” 

Arthur: “Fair enough. You can also call me Arthur. How are you settling in…?”

Ryan: “Definitely still getting my bearings. There’s so much to nail down when you move to a new city... I just bought a building yesterday, and sure could have used some legal advice to make sure I wasn’t overlooking anything.”

Arthur: “Well, your timing is quite fortunate, because a spot just opened up on our client list.”

Ryan is not surprised that Candice Long is no longer keeping Arthur on retainer. Luke’s quick passes through her emails informed them that she and her husband are now amidst a divorce, and he probably got Aurther in the friend split, since Candice is the one who betrayed everyone with her affair. While she deserves no pity from Ryan, the double standard that Jacob Kane’s life remains perfectly intact, while Candice’s falls apart is typical, and would normally disappoint Ryan; in this specific scenario, the bitch had it coming.  

Stephanie: “Look at that! Robyn was just telling me how lucky her timing has been since she arrived.”

Ryan: “Very true. Well, Arthur, should we set up a meeting?”

Arthur: “I have a little time this morning. My first call isn’t for an hour. Mind if I steal your coffee date, Steph?”

Stephanie: “By all means…”

Stephanie winks at Ryan. 

Ryan: “Well, alright then. Though, if you’ll forgive me, I should probably visit the ladies first.”

Stephanie: “Oh for sure. The bathrooms are in the lobby, where the receptionist desk was. As you can see, we don’t have coverage on the weekends, so you’ll have to buzz us to get back in. And then I can walk you to my dad’s office.”

Ryan: “Perfect!”

On the way out, Ryan overhears her dad complimenting Stephanie for bringing in new business, especially from Jeturian Industries. He could never get a meeting with Jada Jett. This also doesn’t surprise Ryan. Jada Jett had nothing to do with anyone associated with the Kanes. 

While father and daughter are occupied in their conversation, Ryan is able to slip behind the receptionist desk to place the spyware device Luke gave her in the desktop computer’s USB drive. 

Ryan Cell: Bug set.

Luke Cell: Great. Give me 5 minutes. I’ll be able to scan everything stored on their servers. And, because they’re using a wifi enabled phone system, I’ll have access to their recorded calls and voicemails, too. 

Ryan rolls her eyes at Luke’s need to spell out the technicalities of the device via text, when he should be focused on scanning everything over as quickly as possible (as if she really needs these details at this exact moment). 

Ryan Cell: You have 3 minutes.

Ryan rushes to the bathroom to make up for the lost time. She’s sure to flush the toilet and wash her hands, so that no one starts to wonder about her status. She’s lucky that Stephanie’s computer has her attention when she returns to the desk, and she’s able to reach over to grab the device out of the USB port without notice. She walks over to hit the buzzer, and Stephanie looks up at her with a smile. It’s time to make herself feel like a friend of the family.

~~~~~

10 HOURS BEFORE THE LEAK

Sophie: “I’m not going, Mary. Thank you, but no thank you.” 

Mary had just walked through the doors of The Hold Up with a very sunny disposition. She’d been texting Sophie, trying to convince her to attend The Gallery Pride event that evening, and Sophie had every reason for why she couldn’t go.

Mary: “Maybe it’s time to hire some additional help around here, so you don’t have to work all the time.”

Sophie’s face warmed a bit at the thought. 

Sophie: “That wasn’t really an option before, but it might be now. I still wouldn’t come if I had coverage, though.”

Mary: “I’m going to assume that smile wasn’t about Kate, since I’m pretty sure she’s the reason you don't want to come with me.”

Sophie just responds with a half, somewhat apologetic smile.

Mary: “Soph, seriously. I can’t do anything about her being my sister, but you’re my family too. You guys have to get passed this.”

Sophie: “There’s nothing for me to get passed. She’s the one who won’t move on. It’s been forever…”

Mary: “So who are you moving on with? Was I noticing a little something between you and the new girl with great style?”

Sophie: “I barely know Robyn.” 

Mary: “And do you want to change that?”

Sophie shrugs.

Sophie: “I know you heard she bought this place.”

Mary: “Business is more fun with a little pleasure.”

Sophie: “Oh, whatever. I’m not dating anyone right now. I don’t have time.” 

Diane Moore walks out from the kitchen, catching the end of their conversation.

Mary: “Like I said before, it’s time to get some help around here.”

Diane: “I agree, Sophie. You’re never going to find a husband if the only men you ever meet are the ones that walk through this bar. You need to go out and meet people.”

Sophie: “Mom, I’ve told you, I’m not looking for a husband.”

Diane: “Exactly.”

Diane was willfully ignoring the many times Sophie had told her that wasn’t in the cards for her. Her mom simply kept saying Sophie hadn’t found the right man yet, not able to understand or accept that she wasn’t ever going to want to be with a man.

Sophie: “Can we not do this right now?”

Diane: “Sure, because you need to take that colorful tarp out from in front of my window, anyway.”

Sophie: “It’s a rainbow flag, for Pride Month. All of the other restaurants and retail stores are doing it, so just look the other way.” 

Diane scowls at Sophie and turns around, talking under her breath about her not running anything in this restaurant, not caring about what other businesses are doing, and someone she created disrespecting her in front of customers. Mary reaches over and places a hand on Sophie’s. 

Mary: “If it helps, at least your dad isn’t a cheater.”

Sophie: “I don’t actually know that for sure, but what are you talking about?”

Mary: “Oh, just that my mom and dad have been having hushed arguments when they think we’re out of earshot about how he was having an affair with Candice Long.”

Sophie: “His Secretary! The Candy Lady?” 

Mary: “That’s the one. And, outside of our home, they’re walking around like the perfect couple, which is making me sick to my stomach to watch. So, per usual, it’d be great to have my best friend at this stupid performance of 'look at the happy, blended Hamilton Kane family!'”

Sophie: “I don’t know, Mary…”

Mary had become Sophie’s closest friend. The thing that happens in movies, where people have long, philosophical conversations with the bartender, would happen each time Mary drove Beth and friends to The Hold Up. They’d bonded over trying to relate to their sisters, and understand their mothers who seemed to have questionable taste in men. Both of them didn’t know their dads, and had spent time with step dads that weren’t proving to be any better. Sophie didn’t spend as long with her step dad (Jordan's dad), thankfully for her but not so much for Diane, but Mary was still trying to figure out the relationship she had with hers.

Mary: “Kate told me Robyn’s going to be there.” 

Sophie narrows her eyes, and shakes her head at Mary for thinking that would influence her decision.

Sophie: “She lives upstairs. I don’t have to go to a fancy benefit with people who don’t want me there to run into her, if that’s even what I was trying to do, and no one said it was.”

Mary: “I want you there! Why do we even go through this, Soph? You’re not really going to leave me hanging. You know Kate barely remembers me half of the time, and Beth barely tolerates me all of the time. I need you!” 

Sophie plops her head in her crossed arms on the bar. 

Mary: “Yes! I love you.” 

Sophie: “You better.”

~~~~~

To be continued...

Typical Endnotes:

Next week's conclusion will be posted on Ao3, but I'll post a link here to remind you to check it out.

I'll give you the character matches on Ao3 too.

All #Batwoman things I do now are in the name of #SaveBatwoman. Go follow all the social handles and support the cause, please. We are LIVING over Javicia's portrayal of #RedDeath, so come join the fun if you aren't already.

[doveofmourning]

The way I'm seeing people consume the Barbie movie uncritically and call it a feminist masterpiece is concerning.

It's giving the same kind of energy as how this site was in the mid 2010's, where we just somehow decided collectively that Men Were All Bad Actually ™️ and like ignored all the ways that's fucked up and that categorically not just dismissing but actively shitting on and harassing a group of people based on an identity they literally can't control is bad.

Like idk I thought we were finally acknowledging the damage that did to feminism. I thought we were finally acknowledging the way that bred a self loathing into men that isolated them and stopped coalition building, and the way young men of color (especially black men) were treated in explicitly racist ways but people used the guise of "no I'm just mad at men" to justify it, and the way trans men CONTINUE to be treated on this website... but here we are, getting real fucking hype about how good the Barbie movie treats the Kens.

And the thing is that while what the Kens do is bad they aren't given genuine agency in the narrative. They didn't like. Make this choice. It's a stupid and logically inconsistent argument that they did, one that's contradicted by the movie itself. They're infantalized by the Barbies at every turn and if ANY Ken has literally any formal education they're an exception. The Barbies don't know where the Kens live (spoiler: they are literally homeless) and they don't care. The Kens are quite literally second class citizens, but the movie doesn't even look at this as a bad thing! It's uninterested in the actually feminist idea that gender should not be used to cause divides or power embalances; instead, it acts out a female supremacy revenge fantasy on screen and then pats itself on the back for being so kind about how it makes the Kens second class citizens. Like sure, it says, the Kens aren't allowed higher education, or a Supreme Court seat, or homes, which are things women do have in the western world that this movie is made for as its primary audience, but at least we're not withholding healthcare or acting sexually violently towards them! And like... that's not the flex you think it is!!!! That's the bare fucking minimum!

Some of you have never read feminist theory and it fucking shows.

bell hooks didn't write The will to change just for you all to uncritically felate a corporate propaganda film as a feminist masterwork. Audre Lorde didn't say "You do not have to be me in order for us to fight alongside each other. I do not have to be you to recognize that our wars are the same," so that you could say that coalition building isn't important, actually, and you'd rather men just suffer than for us to reach healthier societal views on gender.

I'm especially disappointed in the trans people, who should fucking know better, for regurgitating these ideas.

We have to do better about how we treat men even conceptually, because the structural power that men have is not the dominant experience many men have with regards to oppression and we would be better served to fight those battles together. We have to do better because men do not deserve to be isolated from the movement because of their gender. (And no. They don't just need a thicker skin, because a lot of this hasn't just been surface level. It's been vitriolic and insipid, for years now.) We have to do better because once we start making masculinity the devil it's so much easier to hate butches, and trans women, and any woman who's perceived to have masculine interests or features or behaviors. We have to do better because men are still fucking people and deserve to be treated with every bit of kindness and dignity that women are entitled to. (And that's not even getting into how this behavior affects masculine nonbinary people, who get the brunt of this hatred while simultaneously experiencing little to none of the privilege you insist is afforded them by the maleness you percieve.)

Idk I guess I just expected better and I just hoped we wouldn't be worshipping something that pretty clearly flies in the face of what feminists have worked for since like. The 60's. :/

[ayakamizu]

FFXIV Write 2023 Day 3 - Free Day (Connection)

Connection: Noun. Association; relationship. Characters: Ayaka Mizushima (WoL), Allie Expansion: Shadowbringers Rating: G Notes: Takes place at the end of the Sorrow of Werlyt quest line, so spoilers for that! Also "Werlyt" is a weirdly difficult word for me to write? Not sure why.

When Ayaka made the offer to meet with Allie for tea in Werlyt, she was honestly expecting her offer to be turned down. The younger woman had just gone through a lot—losing each of her siblings one after another—and she might not be open to Ayaka’s desire to check up on her. Whether that was as a former soldier of Garlemald or as a grieving young woman, Ayaka would understand. So needless to say, this was why she was surprised that her offer was accepted.

There was only one cafe in Werlyt and the locals reassured her that it was a wonderful spot to meet someone. Ayaka had jumped on the opportunity to secure a time and day the minute Allie accepted her request. It would serve as a more neutral place compared to trying to find a room in the Ironworks branch here in Werlyt or the home Allie and her father were currently living in.

Selfishly, Ayaka didn’t want to have tea in the house where that man was living. The possibility of the Black Wolf walking in at any moment filled her with some level of dread. He might be a lighter shade of black compared to the rest of his peers in the Garlean chain of command, but Ayaka still trusted him as far as she could throw him. On top of that, she had no idea what the man or Allie might think about the offer Ayaka wanted to extend.

If the other Scions—or even Cid—were here, they’d probably tease Ayaka for her tendency to gain a protective streak for people she deemed a particular brand of lonely. The kind of loneliness that called out to her older sister instincts. Alphinand and Alisaie knew this streak quite well, especially back in the beginning of her relationships with both of them, and now it was rearing its head here. Except unlike the usual teasing remarks about Ayaka wanting to adopt the twins, that couldn’t exactly apply.

Allie was a grown woman, a few years Ayaka’s junior from what she could tell, and grieving the very recent loss of her siblings. Ayaka didn’t want to replace them—could never fathom the idea of doing so—but maybe…

Maybe Ayaka could be someone Allie could reach out to when things got too overwhelming. As much as Gaius wanted to be there for his daughter, Ayaka still thought it would be healthy if she had support outside of him. Ayaka knows all too well how it feels to drown in grief and something about the haunted look in Allie’s eyes when she was brought back to Werlyt was all too familiar. Ayaka had been so, so grateful to her friends for keeping her from drowning further the wake of Haurchefant’s death and Ayaka wanted to make that same offer to Allie.

Not as the Warrior of Light, the Champion of Eorzea, or the Eikon-Slayer. Just as Ayaka Mizushima, someone concerned with the well-being of the bright young woman in front of her.

So when Allie walked into the cafe, scanning the room for Ayaka’s familiar appearance with only the slightest hint of hesitation, she steeled her resolve and waved to her. Somehow it was comforting to know that Allie was just as nervous as she was.

Whatever her answer, Ayaka would respect it. Allie was a grown woman that deserved to live by her own choices after having so many of them made for her. If she wanted some sort of connection with Ayaka or not, then that was going to be her choice.