#haven't known a day of peace since I've known them

[sacredsorceress]

Scars / Logan Howlett

pairing: dofp!logan howlett x mutant!reader summary: every person has a soulmate. after settling in the future that he saved, logan starts to consider his next mission when a suspicious mark appears on him. word count: 3.2k a/n: good ol'fashioned soulmate AU. this is the first actual fic i've written in a long time so please have some grace. reblogs and replies are super appreciated! warnings: general mentions of logan's past, scars, self-doubt, alcoholism, reader smokes a cigar, mentions of razors, scars, wounds, two uses of y/n

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It had been a week since Logan woke up in his healed timeline.

For most people, the change would have been dramatic. But Logan was far unlike most people. The initial dreamlike state he was in when he first walked through the mansion- seeing the ghosts he had once known returned to the flesh, unscathed- quickly subsided. Logan had always been a man thrown onto a new path- how he lived life constantly changing to best fit his interests. Now, with his newfound peace he found the most complicated mission of all: what to do with the life he was now free to live?

Even before the sentinels, the battles, the wars- he had always been a man on the run. He was solo, strategic, concise. For a man who was gifted with infinite regeneration, he had solely concerned himself with staying alive. He ate for sustenance, sought shelter for safety, and nursed a bottle to find enough peace of mind to sleep at night.

The professor had once told him that for a person to reach self-actualization they first had to have all of their needs met. Logan had scoffed at the time, assuring the professor that he knew himself just fine. But now, with his problems so solved that they had ceased to ever exist, he wondered if maybe the professor was right.

Who was he? Where did he go from here?

The answer was found in the form of a scar on his hand.

"Well, everything seems to be just fine."

Logan scoffed at the blue man in front of him

"Well it's not." Logan said. "Check again."

Two days after he had come back, a large, circular scar had appeared on the palms of each of his hands. When they hadn't disappeared after two minutes, he rushed to the bathroom and nicked himself with his razor, watching as the wound healed with only blood dripping down his scruff as a remanent of it. Thirty minutes after that he found himself in the lab with Hank, Jean, and the Professor hypothesizing his miraculous marks.

"Logan, the tests came back clear." Jean assured him, leaning against the wall. "Maybe it's time to consider that it's something else."

Logan quirked his head towards her.

"I haven't had a scar in over two hundred years," he reminded her, his voice laced with irony. "I get not one, but two and you... what? Think it's a coincidence?"

Before Jean had a chance at rebuttal, the professor moved to face Logan.

"That's not what Jean's inferring, Logan." Charles reminded him. "We're simply asking that you consider other options. Less... dire options. It could, after all, be a good thing."

"Yeah?" Logan scoffed. "Like what?"

A silence hung in the air.

When Logan had first come to them with news of his scar, the thought had been on all three of their minds. Still, there were a plethora of things that could have caused that. Though, when the tests came back clear and his skin continued to heal from all sorts of abrasions, it felt as if there was only one answer for his seemingly magical scars.

However, none of them were keen on sharing this diagnosis with Logan. One wondered whether he'd handle the idea of his body failing him over fated love.

Hank was the first to speak up.

"Like a soulmate."

Oh that was rich, Logan thought.

Logan wasn't unfamiliar with the idea of soulmates.

Around the time that two fated lovers were destined to meet, there would be a sign for each of them. In some cases they were eyes changing colors, feeling the other's pain, finding their names everywhere they looked. In other cases they were new birthmarks, tattoos, scars.

In some way, the two were inextricably connected.

In his long life he had seen others experience it dozens if not hundreds of times. When the first thirty years of his life rolled around with no one, Logan accepted that he was one of the outliers. He considered it for the best and by now, with everything that he had gone through, the concept of soulmates almost seemed like an old wives' tale.

Logan glanced at their faces. When he realized they were serious, a deep laugh escaped from his gut. There was a lack of light in his eyes that admitted his insincerity.

"So I disappear for a few decades and you all start believing in fairytales?" Logan pulled the needles from his arm, the heart rate monitor going flat as he did. "What a bunch of bullshit."

Jean laid her hand against his chest, urging him back into the seat.

"Logan." She soothed him. "This is a good thing. Scott and I-"

Oh this was real rich.

"Scott and you are... what, huh?" Logan urged. "Soulmates?"

Logan scoffed, swiping Jean's hand from his chest.

"Bet you're so happy with your 'soulmate' and that's why you lead me on, huh? That it? You're happy?" He taunted, a dark laugh escaping him once more. "Spare me-"

"Logan, that's enough!"

The professor's voice echoed against the linoleum walls of the lab, reverberating off of the medical equipment throughout.

"If you want to wallow in your own self-deprivation, be my guest, but spare the rest of us your grief." Charles continued. "I think it would be best if you go back to your quarters and consider the future the universe has offered you."

The energy in the air was thick.

Jean and Hank avoided Logan’s eye contact while the professor’s nearly burned a whole through him.

Accepting defeat, Logan threw his hands up in the air and pushed himself out of his metal chair.

“Fine.”

Soulmates. Logan thought. Who would believe in a thing like that?

-

"It's a pleasure to see you again."

The atmosphere in the mansion was a stark contrast to the lab Charles had been in days before.

Now the school day had commenced: children skipping from class to class, students chatting with their friends in the hallway, teachers grabbing coffee between lessons. Amidst the organized chaos, Charles had arranged to meet you in the foyer: the replacement history teacher for Logan's class.

"You too, professor." You smiled, reaching out your hand. "I was so glad to hear from you."

Your hand hung in the air briefly, awaiting his return. Charles examined it for a moment- a twinkle in his eye- before taking it. His thumbs brushed against the newfound scars between your knuckles as he did.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but you didn't always have these scars, did you, Y/n?" Charles asked.

You had not.

You had woken with them a few days before. Despite your powers rooted in chaos magic, it wasn't uncommon for blemishes or wounds to etch themselves into your skin. However, you often knew why. These marks, scars, were not faint, but instead quite profound. Three thick, healed over wounds patched together like a stitch on the back of each of your hands.

"No professor."

He closed his eyes, a soft smile gracing his lips. Though you knew he wished to ask more questions, the moment was broken by Logan.

"Ah, the man himself." Charles beamed. "Logan, I'd like you to meet Y/n. She'll be covering your class."

You had seen your fair share of news stories about the Wolverine. Who hadn't? Though the television had never prepared you for just how tall, or broad he was.

"It's nice to meet you, Logan."

"You too." He nodded, taking your hand.

His hand lingered in yours for a moment. Charles cleared his throat.

"We were just discussing the most peculiar scar on Y/n's hand." Charles said. "Appeared just a few days ago out of nowhere."

Charles nodded his head in the direction of your hand, leading Logan to squint. As if a light bulb had gone off over his head, Logan glanced between Charles and yourself and with your hand still in his, he turned it examine the back.

Three scars between your knuckles. Right where his own claws would be.

Though he liked to imagine himself as the patron of remaining suave, Logan's eyebrows shot up at the recognition. He traced his view from your hands, up your torso, to your face where you eyed him questioningly.

He thought back to the way that he woke up in the seventies, wrapped in the arms of another woman. If times had been different and Logan hadn't undergone all the so-called character development in the last forty years, he was sure that a face like yours would have gotten him in a lot of trouble. You were beautiful, and your demeanor highlighted your strength.

Your face radiated kindness, warmth and most of all, sincerity- a trait that was difficult to come by in a trade such as his.

But then Logan recalled that this wasn't the seventies and you weren't at some bar leading him on the entire night: your hand was in his and, according to everyone else, he was yours.

The idea almost couldn't register in Logan's brain.

"Interesting, isn't it, Logan?" Charles asked, breaking the silence. "Almost identical to where your claws are, hmm?"

Oh the professor thought he was quite funny.

Logan pulled his hand back from your grasp and shook his head.

"Not that easy, Charles." Logan commented before turning to you, a spiteful tone in his voice. "See you around, bub."

Before you had the chance to open your mouth, you watched as Logan stomped down the nearest hallway, his boots squeaking against the floorboards as he did. His fists clenched and released at his sides as he disappeared from view.

His reaction had come so far from left field that if it hadn't given you whiplash, it would have hurt your ego. Instead you turned back to the professor.

"Was it something I said?" You asked.

The professor shook his head, patting your hand gently.

"Logan's quite a complicated man." He assured you. "I'm sure you'll come to know that more than the rest of us. Now, to your classroom..."

Glancing over your shoulder to the void-like hallway that Logan went down, you considered the professor's words.

-

A storm had taken over the mansion by nightfall.

As you padded down the wood panelled hallways, the lightbulbs shook in their glass with each thunder clap- wind swatting at the window panes every few seconds. The pitter patter of the raindrops, although harsh, was comforting. It was almost as if the mansion had been engulfed by the storm, trapping everyone inside, while consequently making the outside world feel a thousand miles away.

When you found Logan's door, tucked in at the end of the hallway, you knocked.

"Yep."

The weight of the door fell against the palm of your hands as you pushed it open.

Logan's room was dark. The only light in the space had been from the embers of the cigar that hung in his mouth, cradled between his thumb and forefinger. Despite the darkness, you could make out his figure sitting at his desk chair by the window, feet kicked up on the sill.

Logan only gave you a quick glance over his shoulder before turning back to the view.

"What d'you want?"

His voice was thick and rough around the edges.

"I came for your textbooks." You replied, tiptoeing against his floorboards. "The professor said you'd have them."

The hand of his that held the cigar waved around. Minuscule ashes fell to the floor as your eyes remained trained on the light and the faint glow of the moon that illuminated the side of his face.

"Be my guest," he said. "Don’t have a clue where they are."

The professor had given you the lowdown when he saw your scars.

Charles told you that despite everything that you had learned- the history that you had known- the Wolverine you'd meet was not the same person. He was a man from a different time with far different, darker memories and enough baggage to weigh down dozens.

Amidst the silence, you cleared your throat.

"Must be hard to wake up in someone else's life."

By now you had reached his desk, your fingertips tracing the lines in the dark, lacquered wood.

You could smell him and the cigar from this distance- aftershave mixed with smoke.

"The professor tell you that?"

"Mhm."

The chair creaked as Logan flicked his hand towards the window, ushering you to come closer.

Watching your step in the dark, you maneuvered around the furniture and sat beside Logan on his desk- pushing loose papers to the side.

"He give you his whole spiel on soulmates too?" He asked, eyes trained on the rain outside.

Soulmates.

Now that was the last thing you expected to come from the Wolverine's mouth.

You'd heard of them more times than you could count. You once wondered whether every repetitive coincidence was a sign that your person was coming. But, when that never happened, you lost hope.

Who got to tell you who you belonged to anyway?

Leaning over, you gingerly took the cigar from his grasp and replaced it with your own fingers. Sitting back into the desk as lightening struck a tree in the distance, you took a puff.

"So that's what the scars on my hands were all about," You thought aloud.

The window fogged as you let the smoke leave from your mouth in a breathy sigh.

Logan tapped his fingers on his thighs, counting the seconds between a lightening strike and its consecutive rumble of thunder.

"Listen, I'm no prince charming if that's what you came here looking for."

Logan's chair creaked again as he leaned back in his seat. His arm draped against the desk as he met your gaze.

You chuckled and held out his cigar, offering it back to him.

"I came here looking for textbooks." You laughed. "You're the one who keeps talking about soulmates. I think you're more of a romantic than you let on.”

His fingers brushed against yours as he took the cigar back into his own hand. Another lightning strike met the ground in the distance, a clap of thunder following moments afterwards.

"You don't buy it?" Logan quirked his eyebrow. It was a teasing question, one he was curious to hear your answer to.

You shrugged.

"I don't think the universe gets to tell me who to love," you said. "If I fall in love with you it's because I love you, Logan. Not because some mark told me to. I just think of it as... a little shove in the right direction.”

The corner of his mouth quirked into a smile for the first time.

"A shove?"

"Like a... blind date." You finished. "Ever been on one of those?"

A congested laugh escaped him.

"Sweetheart, do I look like the type of guy to go on a blind date?"

You bit the inside of your cheek at the name.

Rolling your eyes, you swatted at his arm. You wouldn't admit how much it hurt your knuckles to do so. You'd have to make a mental note to remember his adamantium skeleton.

"Gosh, you're cocky!"

Logan shrugged, "You're the one who likes it apparently."

You felt yourself grow hot at his accusation.

Even though he had a mark signalling his future affection for you, you couldn't help but feel embarrassed by Logan's knowledge of yours. You felt like a child who's crush had just been exposed to the whole class. Was he noting ever glance that you gave him? The way you didn't move when his arm brushed against yours?

A brief pause hung in the air until another thunder clap reverberated against the walls.

"So what's your mark?" You asked.

Logan shoved the cigar into the corner of his mouth. The biting motion forced him to flex his jaw in a way that you would refuse to admit made you start to realize that maybe the universe was right.

And that maybe his cockiness was justified.

He laid out his hands for you. The room was still dark, making the ability to discern the details of his scar impossible. Taking Logan's hands in yours, you summoned your magic into your hands, watching as they glowed gold.

Logan had two large, circular scars imprinted into his palms. It was a clear indicator of your own magical power that surged from your hands.

It left a feeling you couldn't describe in your chest to know that someone else was marked for you. They were destined for you. To be with you. You had a future written together before the two of you had met. Even if he rejected you, there was a sign etched into his skin that bound the two of you together in some fateful way.

Gently, you traced your fingertips against the mark, feeling the warmth that radiated from his palms.

When your eyes flicked upwards, you noticed how close the two of you were now sitting. You could feel his warm breath against your lips as the lingering smell of the cigar drifted up your nose.

Although he wouldn’t admit it, Logan was enchanted by the energy radiating from you. Whether people hated or loved him, his ability got a lot of talk. In his mind though, he would never be a hero. He was just some guy who got lucky.

You, though? He didn’t need you to tell him that you were an Omega level mutant. Logan had heard about you from the professor: you could cast spells, read minds, reconfigure reality- to name a few. You didn't need a reason to fight for what's right, you just did. Again, and again, and again. Even here, now, you were picking up Logan's history class when he knew very well you could be on the other side of the world sipping pina coladas if you wanted.

What the hell was the universe thinking putting you with him?

Logan admired the reflection of the magic on your cheeks and the way your eyes stayed trained on his palms. Your touch was so gentle he could have sworn he was in a distant dream until your eyes met his.

The two of you stared at each other for a moment, gaze locked.

Then another clap of thunder shook the mansion.

You quickly leaned back, pulling your hands from Logan's touch.

"I should... I should go." You said, pushing yourself off of Logan's desk. "It's getting late and I have my first class in the morning."

Logan leaned back in his seat. He said nothing but eyes remained fixed on your form as you made your way towards the door.

Looking back at him with your hand on the knob you made a mental note to remember the image of him with his feet kicked back on the window as he smoked his cigar.

A soft smile remained.

"Good night, Logan."

When you didn't leave immediately, he nodded.

"Night, sweetheart."

Mustering up the courage to shoot him one last smile, you pulled open the door and stepped outside.

Now, Logan didn't know how much he believed in soulmates, but he could be inclined to consider that it was one good wingman.

Leaning back in his seat, Logan sighed and closed his eyes, letting himself drown out his worries with the sound of the rain.

a/n: my inbox is open for more requests! thank you for the request @welcometochilis585

[deathbyfiction]

[saltpepperbeard]

*comes back to tungle covered in blood* hi beloveds

[actual-changeling]

winter returns. aziraphale does not.

there have been a lot of internal arguments throughout september and october, but eventually crowley decided to transfer all of his plants and a handful of other important belongings to the bookshop. he wasn't leaving it except to nip over for coffee or take the bentley on a drive so it wouldn't get cranky, so why bother returning to his flat?

it turns out to have been the correct choice.

before the first snow, before the nights got longer than the days, long before the end of the year, crowley cranked up the heating in the shop and curled up in his armchair once more. he does not quite hibernate as such, but he comes close while in his serpent form.

muriel, who has taken to not addressing him by name at all after crowley had told them several times to drop the 'mr. crowley', gently picks him up throughout the day and allows him to settle where he pleases. mostly around their shoulders, sometimes along one or both of their arms; other times he seeks out the warmth radiating from their skin coiled up tightly in their lap.

no one sees the serpent of eden dozing on a lower angel's stomach, and no one hears when they read to him, talk to him.

"he will come back, you know. eventually. i haven't known you for long, but i can feel how much you mean to him."

"it was kinda weird at first since you're a demon, but i- well. miss nina said we are friends, and miss maggie agreed."

"i've never seen snow before; it's pretty. hopefully you're not cold."

no one sees him pressed against the window, uncaring for the chill forcing its way through his slim body, staring up at the sky in a fashion unheard of for snakes, waiting, waiting, waiting.

crowley tries to dream of the garden again, seeking out the blurry memories of warmth and ethereal protection, remnants of a grace he is no longer allowed to carry within himself. the sweet aroma of ripe apples, the smell of blooming flowers and desert sand soaking in their first taste of rain, the feeling of feather-rippled wind catching in his hair, a caress that isn't one, a touch that could be one in a few millennia.

crowley tries to dream of peace, but no matter if he wakes or sleeps, all he gets is smoke and ash and a profound sense of loss so ancient he aches and aches and aches.

still, he waits until that is all he is, a desperate wish shaped in his image.

[monkey-network]

Good Stuff: Bluey's The Sign

Bluey is still great and I don't need to go into why again. What's most important is that even in such short time of knowing this cartoon, you can see the growth of it all. Joe and the crew share how the world of the Heeler family gets to learn, adapt, and grow without rapidly warping the status quo. You go through and see how everyone is able to work through rough and weird times with sincere maturity. Season 3's Finale is where this all comes to a head and it's as beautiful as I expected, MORESO.

Brandi got to be happy would've been enough for me

The Sign deals with the idea of hard ideas. Those hard ideas that aren't inherently about change, but issues that when faced with initially, it feels like a bad ending. A bad ending which can't be easily fixed and you don't know where to go from there, and it hurts. It hurts when hard ideas swoop in, ruins your mood, festers your mind, and leaves you aimless. Bluey shows that it happens, this is the rare time where a ton of crap hits the fan in one day and it's not something Chili or Bandit or any adult can fix right away. I've never experienced this, but I felt the pain Bluey, Bingo, Frisky, and Chili went through where they're bargaining, burying, and avoiding confronting a potential reality they didn't want. This is where the real hero of the special comes in...

Haven't said before, but Calypso is a masterful teacher

The parable of the farmer works as an incredible seedling thought for Bluey when she reveals her moving. It's not a story I ever heard, but known the message all too well. The message of not just accepting bad things that happen to you, but know that it'll never be the end of the world because of them. Don't think of it as deep, but a natural motif to grow with. This is where a debacle regarding the episode churns with me. It can seem like a cop-out that every character gets what they wanted by the end, as I said before the cartoon can be more idealistic than what our real life allows. Then again, the true beauty of Bluey I believe has always been if it's possible, the family will find a way and do it responsibly.

If happiness can be achieved, they'll know how to get it

Beyond all this, the special is great. They waste no minute here in art and storytelling, and as said before, it's like Smash Bros Ultimate where everything is here. There are great callbacks to episodes you probably wouldn't have thought about, on top of getting to see the whole Heeler family on Chili and Bandit's sides like that blew my mind. Plus I love seeing weddings, dude, like I wish I was there with them. The feels are tsunami-ous like it's unfair to say this is the all-time best episode of the show, but darn if it wouldn't be earned.

When else will I see the epicness of riding shotgun?

But to conclude, it's been said that after this the Ludo crew will take a indefinite hiatus from Bluey the series, especially when they have a new project underway. And honestly? I'm more than satisfied. The show could've ended here and I would've been somewhat at peace with them giving us this beautiful episode. I of course didn't get into this series since its beginning, but I came around the right time to enjoy it myself, to see others recognize its greatness, and to finally make it here. It's great to know this was only another chapter in the book, and I'll see to be around when it gets to come back. As for The Sign? What else is there to say?

It was Beautiful. Cheers to the crew for everything.

[heavyhitterheaux]

Butterscotch Harlow

First Lady of Private Garden Instagram AU

Liked by jackharlow, urbanwyatt, neelamthadhani, 2forwoyne, taylorrooks, blancahood, and 1,283,052 others

y/ninsta: A little while ago, I surprised smush with a puppy (even though he said no more pets). the two have finally warmed up to each other and all she does is terrorize him lmao

jackharlow: I like how you find my pain humorous smh urbanwyatt: I still can't believe yall literally have fourteen pets now lilnasx: urbanwyatt you mean fifteen, they have druski2funny druski2funny: what the actual fuck do yall be on for me to constantly get dragged like this?!?!? 2forwoyne: yall might as well open up your home and sell tickets because yall live in a damn zoo y/ninsta: all yall can kiss my ass because who is over here every damn week trying to get fed? not too much on my babies. blancahood: you have 3 real babies, pay them some attention y/ninsta: B, I have 5 children. how quickly you forget. jackharlow: who the hell is four and five?!?!? dualipa: jackharlow you and Urban urbanwyatt: NOW WHY AM I ALWAYS IN IT?! y/ninsta: dualipa you a real one for that softtcurse: urbanwyatt because your ass is always doing something smh jackharlow: dualipa and now here you come terrorizing me too smh dualipa: jackharlow I was nice about it but I can be mean. watch that tone. jackharlow: dualipa you better not start with me. I swear yall want me bald by 30. jackandy/naremyparents: I'm convinced that soon y/ninsta will find a way to buy an elephant. mark my words. urbandjack26: jackandy/naremyparents she probably already has one and just keeps it at the actual zoo in Louisville jackharlow: DO NOT GIVE HER ANY IDEAS y/ninsta: 👀👀👀 jackharlow: y/ninsta baby don't you dare y/ninsta: jackharlow BRB

Liked by y/ninsta, druski2funny, claybornharlow, urbanwyatt, maggieharlow, quiiso, jessicakelce, and 1,943,271 others

jackharlow: your shirt says mother so please come and get this puppy. I have not known peace since you bought her 😭

urbanwyatt: jackharlow let's be real for a second. you haven't known peace since you got married to y/ninsta taylorrooks: URBAN! TAKE IT BACK BEFORE SHE SEES IT! 2forwoyne: urbanwyatt not your wanting best friend to kick your ass jackharlow: urbanwyatt you just asking to die tonight aren't you? y/ninsta: I heard I've been summoned and urbanwyatt don't go to sleep tonight urbanwyatt: y/ninsta not my fault you terrorize my best friend! y/ninsta: urbanwyatt is this about me forgetting to make you spaghetti the other day? because right now your ass is acting outta pocket. don't let that mouth of yours get you hair cut off and weed stolen theestallion: Y/N PLEASEEEEEEE blancahood: y/ninsta if you steal it, save me some yungskylark: why when it's taco tuesday, someone in PG acts like they don't have no got damn sense smh shloob_: urbanwyatt my stomach is making whale mating calls. you better fix this shit so she feeds us. urbanwyatt: I SAID WHAT I SAID y/ninsta: urby, you asked for it smh jackharlow: like not too much on my baby now but urb actually claimed me as his best friend for once so I call this day a win y/ninsta: look at my pookie defending me and you were always the first best friend, he just loves me more jackharlow: 🙄🙄🙄

yungskylark: he need to defend my stomach from biting the rest of my insides quiiso: jackharlow IT'S NOT NO WIN WHEN WE'RE HUNGRY, TF? jackharlow: quiiso oh imma eat regardless. idc what happens to yall lmaoooo saweetie: jackharlow just nasty as hell as usual jackharlow: saweetie HAVE YOU SEEN MY WIFE?!?! saweetie: jackharlow for the billionth time, YES! jackharlow: saweetie just making sure lol

Liked by y/ninsta, saweetie, urbanwyatt, theestallion, privategarden, theshaderoom, neelamthadhani, and 3,281,937 others

jackharlow: you see what she does in my time of need? LEAVES ME 😭

But my wife a baddie 😍😍

y/ninsta: jackharlow you are so damn dramatic! I'm only going to be gone for two days! but love you smush. claybornharlow: oh, so the babies have to eat jack's cooking? maggieharlow come save your grandchildren! jackharlow: HEY! THEY'RE FINE! dualipa: I highly doubt that jackharlow: dualipa hop off the nearest cliff y/ninsta: I pumped enough and there's more in the freezer, along with formula and the baby food I made. they're good! jackharlow: umm y/ninsta...... I think I only have enough for a few more hours y/ninsta: WHAT blancahood: oh good lord smh jackharlow: y/ninsta axel is eating like he has never seen food in his entire life maggieharlow: smh jackharlow if you needed me, why didn't you call? jackharlow: maggieharlow I got it handled! claybornharlow: only thing jackharlow has a handle on is.... hmm.... I'm at a loss saweetie: clay, pleaseeeee lmao urbandjack26: chaos in the Harlow household lol neelamthadhani: and jackharlow has the nerve to want more children smh handle those three first! y/ninsta: jackharlow is a good daddy! but his way of doing things concerns me sometimes jackharlow: y/ninsta I know I'm a good daddy. to my triplets and my wife. y/ninsta: jackharlow I'm taking my compliment back smh

Liked by jackharlow, urbanwyatt, saweetie, estgee, champagnepapi, zackbia, taylorrooks, and 1,928,036 others

y/ninsta: pleading for my damn help, and once I get home, this is what I see 🙄🙄

jackharlow: and that was the first decent amount of sleep that I got since you left y/ninsta: jackharlow I see little miss kept guard while you slept. I told you she loves you. jackandy/naremyparents: are yall gonna tell us her name now?!?!? jackharlow: jackandy/naremyparents I want to protect her privacy urbanwyatt: this man has officially lost it lmao saweetie: privacy? she literally pees and shits outside for the world to see jackharlow: not too much on my baby now! she still deserves privacy! claybornharlow: jack, she's a dog jackharlow: claybornharlow and? she's MY dog and what I say goes blancahood: that man don't know how to act now that he has his own pet quiiso: y/ninsta please get your husband lmao y/ninsta: quiiso he's a lost cause. I tried to come close to him while she was next to him and long story short, she is very territorial of him. she likes me, but he's her go to person. like sis, I was here first. show your mom some respect lmao urbanwyatt: not y/n finally having to compete for jack's heart y/ninsta: urbanwyatt he lowkey might divorce me to be able to have all of his attention on her jackharlow: I AM NOT THAT BAD neelamthadhani: jackharlow who lied to you? smh y/ninsta: jackharlow just tell everyone her name! jackharlow: y/ninsta no. that's her business and no one else's. jackandy/naremyparents: she probably doesn't even have one jackharlow: YES SHE DOES! If yall can guess it, I'll tell you saweetie: wait, what did yall end up deciding because it was down to two names urbandjack26: probably named her alcatraz y/ninsta: urbandjack26 over my dead body lmao allthingsy/n: hmm..... Louisville related? y/ninsta: allthingsy/n no for once lol jackandurbupdates: toffee y/ninsta: getting warmer jackandy/naremyparents: caramel? y/ninsta: getting closer! jackharlow: yall get on my nerves jackandurb26: BUTTERSCOTCH! BUTTERSCOTCH HARLOW! jackharlow: 😒😒😒😒😒 jackandurb26: well?!?!? jackharlow: I'm logging out y/ninsta: 😭😭😭😭

[matan4il]

have you ever been able to have any Palestinian friends? I'm not asking this as a gotcha question at all, but sincerely (I know anons on here can be scary), I was wondering about it because an Israeli I follow on Instagram was asked about this a few days ago in his stories, and he said he was never able to have friends in Gaza, but he did have friends in the West Bank, and they've almost all cut him off completely following 10/7, and some really hurt him by showing support for the massacre. he said he's still got his Arab Israeli and Palestinian friends who are Israeli citizens, that they may disagree sometimes but haven't to a breaking point because they live in the nation together and want peace and are supportive of each other through differences, but those friendships in the West Bank are sadly over. he also said that he's had friends he's known for years from places all over the world who dropped him after the terror attack just because he's Israeli and Jewish, which I think is all too familiar for ALL of us because I don't know a single Jew who hasn't lost multiple friends, online and off, through all this and through no fault of their own, just existing as Jews. it makes me so sad. but knowing he was cut off because of support of the massacre from Palestinians was depressing to hear, you think people are your friends and then find out they approve your people's rape and slaughter? and until they stop deeply hating Jews to that point, how can there be peace? he seems like such a good person and centers humanity and does want peace, as I know most Israelis do, but one side can't achieve that alone.

sorry this is long. *hugs*

Hi Nonnie,

thank you for the ask, and I hope you're doing good! *hugs*

I have had Palestinian friends. True, not from Gaza. Israel left it in 2005, and there has been an internationally recognized border between us since. Ironically, I think the only Israelis who could have given you a different answer up until Oct 7 were the southern communities that Hamas attacked and massacred. They lived right on the border, most were left wing Israelis, many volunteered to help Palestinians in one capacity or another (such as driving them to get medical care inside Israel), or chose to employ Palestinians (despite how some might have warned them that it's a security risk), and that illusion of friendship was shattered when it became clear that it was exactly those Gazans who provided the intel on southern Israeli communities, that was needed to plan and carry out the massacre. Not every single Gazan, of course. But enough that this is a true betrayal in the worst sense of the word.

In my case, some of the Palestinians I've befriended over the years have been uni friends or colleagues, but the closest and longest lasting friendships have been with gay Palestinians who I share a community with. They can't be safely openly gay anywhere under Palestinian rule, so they would come to Israeli gay community centers, and were received warmly there. I also was in one fandom, where someone heard I'm from Jerusalem, and said they know another Israeli from Jerusalem. Turned out, it was a Palestinian girl from East Jerusalem, and while I'm no longer that active in said fandom, I'm still in touch with that girl.

I feel very lucky to say that I haven't lost these friendships since Oct 7. Ironic, because I've "lost" friendships (if that's what they ever were) with so many hypocritical foreigners who don't live this conflict, and aren't affected by it, beyond their need to show everyone they're "on the right side," but I haven't lost the people who are actually a part of it. It's almost like foreigners have no idea about the actual complicated reality of this conflict, nor a desire to learn about it, just a need to reduce it to "good" and "bad," taking whichever side social media tells them is the former. My Palestinian friends know me, they know how I treat other human beings (spoiler alert: as human beings!) and they also know my opinions, and that I see myself as being both pro-Israel and pro-Palestinian. I guess they agree with me that my opinions are in favor of both groups, or I'm sure that they would have cut ties with me already.

There is one exception, though it predates Hamas' massacre. I've mentioned in my pride post that I've volunteered for the gay community in my city, at the Jerusalem Open House. In fact, there was a certain year where I won an award for being the organization's stand out volunteer. I mention this, because I have always seen myself as being there for everyone, and I feel like that award was an acknowledgement of that.

The very first Palestinian queer organization ever actually started out as "the Palestinian project" of the JOH, an attempt to create a safe space for, support and help queer Palestinians. One member of the group became very dominant and after a few years, she decided they should be an independent organization. The JOH gave its blessing, and agree to rent out one of its offices to her, and provide the physical space for the organization's activities (since obviously, they couldn't be openly held in Ramallah or Bethlehem, under the rule of the Palestinian Authority). I met her there, and we became friends. Not the closest, but def more than just acquaintances. I was very proud of her work for her community, and often told others about it.

One day, I was sitting in the JOH main space, talking to people about the problem of honor killings. It's widespread within Arab society (one researcher believes about 20,000 women are murdered for this around the world every year), and that includes Palestinians. I was specifically asked about it, and was answering the question out of a deep concern for Palestinian lives, mainly women and queers (including my own friends), threatened or murdered for the perception that they "violated" their family's honor. For the record, such a violation can be simply a guy kissing another one, a woman being raped, a biological male coming out and living as a trans woman, a mother getting a divorce and dating a new man, or a daughter defying her father's wishes and pursuing higher education. I have seen Palestinians (and Israeli Arabs) murdered for all of these reasons, and I HATE it and think more needs to be done to prevent such crimes. I also have queer Palestinian friends, who have tried to seek refuge in western countries because of a threat to their lives within their own society, sometimes from their own families. They were denied, and had to go deep into the closet. It's a miserable existence, and I wouldn't wish it on anyone.

She walked by while I was talking. IDK what exactly she heard, but she then went to the CEO of the JOH and complained that I was being racist. For caring about the lives of Palestinians. For comparison, I linked above to an Amnesty International piece about honor killings. Are they being racist for bringing up this problem, and speaking up for Arab women everywhere, too? The CEO called me in for a talk, was convinced that I wasn't being racist, and that was that. But it left me shook up. That was the first time I realized that this woman prioritized Palestinian society's appearance, over the actual well being of fellow Palestinian women and queers. I never talked to her again after that, nor did she ever speak to me.

I also started seeing her and her organization becoming openly anti-Israel, even when it harmed the community she was supposed to serve. In Sep 2021, there was even an article published about it, calling out the hypocrisy of attacking Israel, while this country's existence is what even enables that organization to operate, since they can't do so under Palestinian rule. And my friends who were seeking sanctuary from the threats to their lives from within their own society? They never got legal help in that pursuit from her organization, only from Israeli ones. I think that's a tragedy.

The last time her organization filed the needed reports to be officially recognized as an NGO in Israel was 2020. They obviously continued to be active after that, and still are (at least on social media, where they echo the anti-Israel narrative since the war started), but IDK if they're even doing anything real for queer Palestinians anymore, or whether she still heads it. Whenever I think about it, I'm just sad for all the people she should have helped, but who turned out to be less important to her than a nationalistic, antisemitic (that's what it is when she demands self determination for her people, but denies that right to Jews, as she does by supporting the BDS movement) and self-destructive (to her own community) struggle.

And yes, on a personal level, I felt betrayed by her, though I've also felt like her betrayal of her own people was way worse.

I think at the end of the day, for many Palestinians and Israeli Arabs, the question is what are they more attached to, that nationalistic, antisemitic struggle, or they (and their people's) well being. If you look at Mosab Hassan Youssef, I think what says it all, is that the son of a Hamas co-founder could end up on the side of Israel, initially not because of anything Israel did, but because he saw Palestinians in prison being tortured and killed by Hamas, and he gave a damn about his own people.

BTW, out of curiosity, who is the Israeli you're following, who got you wondering about this? And I really hope my reply was in some way helpful. Take good care! xoxox

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[sumicchin]

CHIMES OF THE HEART

❃ a wind breaker (satoru nii) reader insert.

CHAPTER 5

Makochi was too good for you. (2.5k words)

content warning: female reader, a bit angsty, violence

After having breakfast at Sakura's apartment, the Furin students went on their way to school. It was decided that you would stay with Kotoha while waiting for the first years to accompany you around town, saying that it's not safe to go alone in this situation.

"For real? That guy is wack in the head, good on you for escaping." Kotoha exclaims. Other than some elderly having their breakfast, it was just the two girls inside the cafe. From an outsiders perspective, it almost seemed like the two of you knew each other since birth from how loud you both were.

"But... it's not like I feel better now that you guys are involved in my problem," You sigh, feeling yourself open up to the brunette.

Kotoha gently puts down the cup she's been drying and puts her hand on your shoulder. She's dealt with these situations too frequently, but it's not like she's one to shy away from helping people "Hey, don't say that. Just because we haven't known each other for a long time doesn't mean you can't rely on others, we're more than happy to help you."

You just look at her silently, not knowing how to respond. The Mikos back at the shrine were kind and made great company, but not so much that you'd consider them friends. You were only there to protect them, humor their small talk during the many trips to the market, and maybe get to know a bit more about them, but not about you. The priest and Hayami were adamant on not letting you spend too much time with them. Kotoha who you've just met today on the other hand, was crossing a boundary you were unfamiliar with. Sakura must've felt the same way...

"Sorry...if I come across too touchy. It's a silly habit," she says with a warm smile. "Sakura was the same when he first arrived, and now look at him, hanging out with friends and all. It's a step forward to make him feel that he belongs, and hopefully...you can entrust this town and its citizens of your burdens."

Her words were simple, yet comforting. You were still conflicted, whether to overhaul these feelings of doubt on your own or entrust yourself to the people of Makochi. You went silent for a while, but Kotoha knew better than to probe. She patiently waits for your response.

"I... don't know what I did to deserve this kind of treatment, but thank you...for offering your aid."

Kotoha smiles and taps your shoulder, prompting you to look at her. "To get your feelings across much better, it's good to look at the person's eyes."

You look at Kotoha as per her advice and muster your courage to say, "Thank you."

"That's the spirit! So, how's the sandwich and coffee?" You're surprised at how good of a conversationist Kotoha is, able to lift your mood in just mere seconds. She's a good person...I can trust her.

Your plate had only half a chunk of the sandwich left, the warm coffee at least a thirds of the cup. "It's amazing! I've never had this kind of food back at the shrine."

Now Kotoha's more motivated to spoil you with all the city has to offer. "There's tons of places you can check out here in Makochi! Obviously my cafe is tons better but I'd love to see you try out everything." She starts going on a tangent, mentioning the Tsubaki person again and taking you shopping this coming weekend. It made you feel giddy and excited, but part of you was worried you'll attract unwanted attention. Never would you want Kotoha or anyone really to be in harm's way.

"That all sounds exciting. But maybe after my whole fiasco is settled...I don't want to break the peaceful environment here."

Kotoha visibly tenses at your statement, "Give Makochi a day or two, you'll have the full experience by then—"

Cueu a loud thud from the window.

Kotoha looks at the source of noise and just sighs, "That's a new record."

You see a crowd forming right outside the cafe, circling the lone student from Furin. Kotoha whips out her phone and starts dialing someone.

"I'll call the guys over—"

"Do you have a broomstick or anything similar, Kotoha?" She stares at you, but hands you a broomstick anyways. "I'll make sure to return it!"

You step out of the cafe, approaching the bruised student with the broomstick in hand. He coughs out blood and you irk, "Can you stand?"

He shakes his head and points at the large group of men, about ten or so.

"Oh, so yer the girl that took out our men."

"Ah, yeah...I already apologized though." You unapologetically say, and this irked some of the men. Your mentor would've done the same either, and he had the patience of a saint.

One of the tallest in the group comes forward and stares you down, hunching to meet your eye, "We were punished by our boss thanks to them embarassing us."

You stare back, "And why did you involve someone innocent? You're even worse than scum." Never did your words carry so much poison.

Sojiro would've been so proud of you right now.

The man goes for a punch, but you immediately dodge and go behind his figure, raising your broomstick and hitting swiftly at his nape. His body falls near the injured Furin student who looks up at you with amazement. You crouch down to his level, taking a good look at where he was hurt. Bruises on his head, cheeks swelling, and his dirtied uniform most likely hid even more gashes.

Pointing the broomstick at them, you face the group of men and yell, "You're all cowards for ganging up on a student. Apologize to him!"

They all charge towards you, yelling profanities that your ears blocked. You have no time to hear their idiocy, the task at hand is to quickly dispose of them without making a mess.

Unbeknownst to you, the Furin student had the energy to whip out his phone and record footage of the fight, sending the video to the Class 1-1 group chat.

Kakiuchi

Sent a video.

Happening rn at pothos!

Kotoha and the elderly patrons of Cafe Pothos watch from inside as you single out opponents with flawless footwork and quick strikes to the neck, rendering opponents still after being hit. "That little lady is quite the fighter," the old man says, watching with glee.

So this is what Umemiya and Hiragi meant, Kotoha thinks.

The Furin student sees his phone get bombarded by messages from the group chat just seconds later.

Kiryu

Lol (F/n) get their asses!!

Nirei

WHAT'S HAPPENING??!??!??

WHY IS (F/N) FIGHTING??!?!!?!!!

Tsugeura

SHE'S A BEAST HOLY CRAP

Anzai

DAMN?????

Suo

We'll be there as soon as we can

Not even a minute passed, all men were down and unconscious around you. You stretch after the tiresome workout, and wonder why your hand felt lighter than earlier.

The broomstick is now in half.

Sweating bullets, you refuse to look back at Kotoha and the Furin student who were calling out your name.

"(F/n)! Are you injured?" She says worriedly, inspecting your body for any signs of bruising. She found none thankfully, making her sigh of relief. "Thank you, for protecting us."

You refuse to look her in the eye but at the now two pieces of wooden sticks in your hand. Kotoha notices this and laughs, "Don't worry about that! It's just a broom."

"T-thank you!" The student says from his seat, "Please let me know how I can repay you!"

Your eyes light up from hearing it, "You don't have to really...but a broom would be nice."

"YOU BRAT!!!!!!" A familiar voice shouts from afar.

You suddenly gain the courage to face Kotoha and give her a pitiful look, mouthing the words please cover for me.

Sakura stomps and grabs both your shoulders and shakes you back and forth, "How hard is it to stay still?! You had us worried sick!!!!"

"Now, now, the deed's already been done. Not much we can do now," Suo says, looking at the pile of bodies. "You sure did a number on them (F/n), very impressive!"

Kotoha rips you away from Sakura's grasp, hugging your figure, "Can you go easy on her? (F/n) literally just saved us."

"It's my fault! Please don't get angry at her," the injured Kakiuchi who Nirei helped stand up says to his classmates. "I was on my way to school when they asked me about a girl who beat up the guys at the red light district. I was no match for them..."

So it really was your fault he got injured.

Sakura clicks his tongue and looks at his classmate sternly, "You could've called us! We swore to help each other out, didn't we!?"

Everyone looks at their grade captain who became embarrassed upon noticing he attracted the eyes of everyone, "All I'm saying is...don't do everything on your own, a-alright! We're a class for a reason!"

"And you!" Sakura points at your figure, hiding behind Kotoha, "From now on, someone's gonna look after you!"

Stepping away from Kotoha, you glare at Sakura dead in the eyes, "I refuse."

"What did you say?" Sakura huffs, looming over your figure, showing signs of annoyance.

"I said I refuse! Didn't you see how someone got injured because of me? Do you think I'd want any more of you to get hurt because of me?!"

He backs off, eyes wide and stunned. Kotoha stood her ground beside you, but she was clearly shaken by the sudden shift in you. Looking at Kotoha made you regret your words. It's like her words didn't get through you at all...

If you can't trust yourself, who will?

"You've all done enough to help me, but I'll have to do things on my own from now on. Please tend to his injuries well."

They all watch as you walk away.

❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋

"OUCH!" Umemiya yelps as he holds up his pricked finger. Sugishita rushes to his side, band aid in hand.

"Thank you, Sugishita!"

"You seem... bothered," Sugishita mutters while tending to his upperclassman's small injury. Umemiya smiles, proud to know how perceptive his little brothers were.

He looks up at the sky, breathing in the fresh air brought by the downpour from yesterday. Umemiya recalls a day like this in his childhood, and he'd been thinking about it while tending to his seedlings. "Ah, I just remembered something. That girl, I knew she was familiar."

Sugishita has heard of the commotion you caused yesterday, but partly because Umemiya couldn't stop discussing it in private with Hiragi earlier. The boy was never one to pry, but seeing Umemiya this bothered him was a matter on its own. It must be very important.

Umemiya's phone ringing suddenly broke the two's trance. He was greeted with Sakura's handle. Must be really urgent if Sakura of all people was calling.

"Sakura! What's the matter?"

He waits for the boy to respond, prompting Umemiya to randomly say Sakura's name to check if it's him or if the call was a mistake.

He gave Sakura a few more seconds, and he finally heard him spoke through the phone.

"(F/n)...she left."

❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋

You ended up walking at a park, people going by their day and spending time with their loved ones. Must be nice...

It was a fair weather compared to the last few days, so most families decided to make the most out of the opportunity for recreation. You hear a little girl cry, pointing at her balloon stuck on a tree while her mom calms her down. You didn't want to overstep, but the little girl was adamant on having her balloon and didn't want her mom to buy a new one.

Without hesitation, you climb and found yourself reaching for the balloon.

"Ah! Thank you, big sis!" The little girl says, her mother thanking you as well. Just as you are about to leave them, the little girl tells you to stay still and wait for her to come back.

"Big sis!" The little girl runs up to you and hands you an ice cream cone, "Thanks for getting my balloon back!"

The act of generosity surprised you, wanting to decline her offer and let her have the ice cream instead. "This is yours! Please take it, it has one of my favorite flavors!"

You watch as they walk off hand in hand. The ice cream in your hand had three scoops and looked a lot like the ones advertised in magazines. It was very delicious, like the little girl just said. The fact that someone else gave it to you out of gratitude added more to its value than just being a mere dessert.

This town was peaceful, with kind citizens inhabiting it.

You're just here to ruin it.

You kept walking around the park until you reached a fountain with a statue of a couple and their baby, peacefully sitting by the fountain's ledge. As soon as you find what Hayami and Sojiro entrusted you with, you'll be sure to be out of Makochi's borders.

Taking the time to rest before you make your move, the statue strikes you as odd now that you've paid attention.

A plaque beneath had a quote etched:

Where joy grows deep, sorrow must deepen; the greater one's pleasures, the greater the pain.

"That's...a quote from Kusamakura," you recall. Hayami and Sojiro often quoted this and told you of its meaning as a child.

"Oh...Our little ghost is quite the bookworm!" A familiar voice happily says out loud.

Turning your head to confirm your assumption, you see locks of swept white hair and large grey irises. "Ume...miya?"

"I'm glad you remember my name!" He points at the seat next to you with a grin, "Do you mind if I take a seat?"

You scooch over, making room for his large figure. He seemed very relaxed, contrasting your anxious self.

"So, how's Makochi so far?" He asks, looking at the citizens of the town who seemed aware of his presence as well, often waving when passing by.

"It's...cozy. The people here are nice to each other, almost like everyone's family."

The man lets out a satisfied hum, "And you're a part of it."

You let out a weak laugh, looking at Umemiya with a pitiful smile, "I've been here for a few days, and I'll take my leave after I finish my task. You can all pretend like I've never been here."

"Just like a ghost."

Umemiya frowns at your choice of words, almost thinking of lecturing you on the spot. He lets out a sigh, "I've heard about what happened earlier...I know it's hard to see someone get hurt, but you don't have to shoulder all the blame. Bofurin exists to protect everyone in Makochi, and that includes you."

"You guys are too kind...to a sickening and persistent degree if I might add," you scoff.

"If it gets you to feel welcome and accustomed here, then by all means, I'll become the most annoying person you're gonna know," Umemiya says, almost too seriously. "I'm here sitting next to you for a reason."

Curious about the sudden change in Umemiya's tone, you see him look sternly at the fountain statue. You've only seen him this morning, but you can tell this was not his usual demeanor.

Umemiya pauses for a moment, seemingly racking his thoughts before speaking, "Care to lend an ear for me, (F/n)?"

tag list: @wutap

[irrevocableloves]

violent delights

twilight rewrite! edward cullen x fem!witch!reader

chapter two: golden topaz

previous chapter ౨ৎ masterlist ౨ৎ chapter three

summary: why, even in his absence, did edward cullen have an effect on her?

warnings: swearing, lil bit of fluff & angst

words: 2.9k

Days went by since I last saw Edward Cullen.

I shouldn't be thinking about him or let alone think about what he thought of me. I wanted to confront him, but every time I waited to see his grey Volvo or him striding to his cafeteria seat or perhaps a late arrival to biology class, it was nothing. It was like he never existed. It drove me insane.

Since then, he's invaded not just my mind, but my dreams. But they felt different. As if I could feel him, like he was really there with me.

"Hey, I invited Billy and Jacob tonight, you still up for making dinner?" My dad asked, bringing me out of my thoughts.

"Huh? Oh. Yeah! Definitely."

"You sure? I could always pick up something from the diner or uh–I could always try cooking?"

"No, please," I chucked, "It's okay, dad, I got it."

"Hey, dad, I was wondering..." I trailed off, wondering if it would be strange to ask about the Cullens, but my dad seemed to know just about anything going on around town. "Do you know the Cullens?"

"Sure do! Came just around the time you left to your mom's. Why?"

"Um, I dunno. I just–"

"Listen, all the talk about them being strange. They're a good family. Carlisle has done a whole lot for Forks as a doctor than I've seen in years. He keeps his kids in line, they do good in school from what I've heard, haven't had a single speck of trouble from any of those kids. Can't say the same from those who've lived here their entire 17 or so years."

I was surprised by his response, deciding I shouldn't ask anymore about them, especially Edward...

Soon after the conversation ended, I drove your car to the nearby grocery mart to grab ingredients for the dinner I was making for the Black's.

Billy and Jacob, I've known them for as long as you could remember, they were practically like family to me and my dad. As a kid, I remember all the times playing with Jake, Rachel, Rebecca, Leah, and Seth on the reservation. Mostly, Leah and I would be excluded from the boys and we would be left to babysit Seth because he was too small to be rough-housed. But, Jacob always had a soft spot for me and begged the boys to include us most of the time.

I wasn't stupid, I knew Jacob liked me, but I never had the heart to reject him.

Once I was done gathering the ingredients to make a simple pasta recipe, I headed out.

Back at the house, I had my dad doing the simplest of tasks as possible, like boiling the water, pulling the seasonings out of the cabinets, etc. He wasn't the best cook and I knew that when I was away for the summer he either went to the diner everyday or ate Harry Clearwater's fish fry.

For me, cooking was something that I enjoyed, so you didn't mind catering for my dad every once in a while, in fact, I felt at peace knowing you could do at least one thing for my dad that he could appreciate. Cooking for me was quite peaceful. I wasn't a complete expert at it, but I was good at following recipes, making things from complete scratch, and I knew for sure that I had an excellent taste palette.

While I cooked, I had my dad take out the nice plates that I begged my mom to keep here and pull out the dinner table to face the television so he and the boys could enjoy a nice game of 'whatever sport was on' by the time dinner was ready.

My dad and I sat in comfortable silence before the Black's arrived. Me setting the plates and my dad setting out the nice placemats and silverware that I had thrifted some time ago. This is what I liked about my dad. The silence. It was never uncomfortable or awkward, but he was less of a hover than my mother, who was just a constant ringing in your head. I loved your mom of course, but it didn't hurt to admit that I favored my father just a little bit more.

"So, how was your first week? None of the teachers give ya a hard time?" He broke the silence, I didn't mind his small talk either.

"Nah, they're pretty lenient since I've got all my work done. It's just the PE teacher who's had me running extra laps to make up for the 'lost time'..." I rolled my eyes at the memory of Coach Clapp even assigning me exercises to 'keep yourself busy at home'.

Dinner went by smoothly. Billy and Jacob didn't arrive empty handed as Jacob came in with a hefty looking pie in his right hand, helping my dad with his left to haul Billy's wheelchair up the porch stairs.

At the end of dinner, I'd said my goodbyes to Billy and Jacob, thanking them again for my car. Like always, my dad promised to do all dishes because of our rule, 'whoever cooks doesn't wash the dishes', which means he's the one cleaning them practically every single day.

I found myself in the forest. With the trees surrounding, the area was left dim, with the sunlight hardly peeking through. I felt my feet guiding me up a hill, closer and closer to the sun rays, the breeze of the dark forest slipping away as I climbed even farther up towards the sunlight. Deeper up the hill, the trees began to fade away and at the end of the hill, an almost blinding light was up ahead. I kept at it, becoming more intrigued with the warmth that I was being guided to. I squinted as I reached the end, the light fading, but I was no longer on your feet. I felt the grass on my face and between my fingertips, the sun rays coating my skin, and a cold hand stroking my hair.

I opened my eyes. Edward was facing me. His hand gently stroking my hair, carefully moving to my cheek. I place mine atop of his, his icy touch melting into my own. It felt warm, his touch. I closed my eyes once again, only to open them to face my bedroom ceiling.

Sighing, I got out of bed, grabbing my journal on your bedside table and jotting down my dream. Ever since I met Edward, I've been in the same meadow. A valley of green with purple flowers scattered around the grass. But never have I been this close to him, never could I feel his touch or the temperature of his skin.

I woke up to snow.

I smiled, taking in the view from my window of the defrosted frost from the heating unit, looking outside to the perfectly pillowed grounds of my front yard, seeing my dad finishing up the snow chains on my tires.

Surprisingly, not very many people in Forks enjoyed the snow, but I did. I loved being able to bundle myself in layers of clothing and seeing everyone with a red flush on their face from the cold as they engaged in snow fights as if they were reliving their early childhood.

Sure, it was a pain in the ass to walk in or more so drive in, but it sure as hell made the ordinary town of Forks look as if it was the most adored place in the world. Plus, I appreciated the canceled school days on snow days, but unfortunately, school was to remain in session for the time-being.

Before the first bell rang, I stood with Jessica and Angela outdoors while Eric, Mike, Tyler, Ben, and other boys I didn't bother to remember the names of as they carelessly played in the snow with a mix of snowball fights and snow angels. That's when I saw the Cullens arrive, looking to have just as much fun as everyone else – only they looked more like a scene from a painting or a Hollywood film rather than a bunch of children roaring with laughter and glee.

I made eye contact with him for a split second. After a full week of missing school, avoiding my presence, he was with his family, skidding around in the snow with his brother Emmett.

With the weather most likely being in its negatives, he somehow looked more alive than ever. His skin was less pale, his eyes a lot more radiant.

I didn't realize I was staring as long as I was until his eyes met back with my own, causing me to flinch away from his eyesight.

Jessica followed where my eyes were once at, "Y/N, what are you staring at?" Her eyebrows furrowed, then finally realizing my eyes' view, "Edward Cullen is staring at you..." she giggled into my ear.

"Yeah... I don't think he likes me very much."

"The Cullens don't like anyone. Well actually, they never seem to notice anyone, really. But he's like staring staring. What did you do?"

"Jess, stop looking!"

"What's she looking at?" Angela squealed. "Oh."

They both giggled immensely, pulling me in between them and forcing us all to walk towards the school building. Angela giggles, "Looks to me like Edward Cullen's got a crush."

I expected to see Edward at the left of our shared table, but he was a no-show once again.

I sighed with relief, heading over to my seat, as Mike spoke, "Hey, if Cullen doesn't show up, um I can ask Banner if you can join–"

The chair to the left of me screeched and I looked over.

Edward. There he was. Now sitting there with an awkward smile as if he wasn't absolutely repulsed by my presence, as if my presence didn't prevent him from attending school for a week straight.

"Hello," he said quietly.

I froze. Hello? Was he serious?

"I didn't have a chance to introduce myself last week. My name is Edward Cullen." I didn't respond, I physically and mentally couldn't form an answer to give him. "You must be Y/N."

"I'm... uh... yes." I breathed out.

Did I make this up? The entirety of our previous reaction? He was perfectly polite. It was as if we were meeting for the very first time, as if his first reaction of my presence didn't leave him sickly and running off.

As soon as I sat, I caught him moving towards the edge of his seat. So he's still repulsed.

This was the type of awkward conversations that I despised, which was part of the reasons I was glad my mother had kept me from them, but here I was, having to experience them as if I was doing ice breakers at the beginning of the semester.

Thankfully, before anymore conversation had begun, the bell rang and Mr. Banner began class.

"Onion root tip cells! That's what's on your slides. Separate and label them into the phases of mitosis. The first partners to get it right, win... the golden onion!" The class remained silent as he enthusiastically brought out the golden onion from the inside of his desk. He sighed, telling everyone to get started on their partner work.

Maybe this time the partner work wouldn't be rash and I would actually get a chance to do the work together rather than checking Edward's quick, but correct responses.

"Ladies first?" Edward asked, giving me a crooked smile.

I pushed the microscope towards myself before he could, snapping the first slide and adjusting the lens.

"Prophase." I said confidently.

"Do you mind if I look?" he asked, reaching for the microscope as I was pushing it towards him.

His hand was caught into mine and I flinched. His hands were ice-cold. The familiar coldness that I had felt just the night before in my dream. It felt electric.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, pulling his hand back as well, embarrassed. "Prophase," he agreed, writing it down on our worksheet. His handwriting was surprisingly neat for a boy. Most of the ones I've tended to work with had left illegible scribbles which always prompted me to snatch the sheet away from them and write it myself. But his, it was quite beautiful.

He switched out the slides, quickly identifying Anaphase, to which I mimicked his response with, "May I?"

Throughout the rest of the slides, the two of us continued on with the routine, taking turns with the rest of the slides, checking the answers each of us give to one another until the very last slide. We were finished before anyone else, leaving us with plenty of time to spare.

"I knew it was a good idea to make the two of you lab partners!"  Mr. Banner said excitedly, looking over our completed lab and checking the answers.

Silence met the two of us as Mr. Banner left to check the rest of the class' progress, until I broke the silence.

"You've been gone..."

"Yeah uh," he stuttered. "Got sick. It's why I left class so suddenly." So it wasn't because of me?

"Oh. I'm sorry. Well, I'm glad you're uh– feeling better." He only nodded in response.

Edward broke the silence once again, "So... where were you this month? I take it that you're not new. With your dad being the sheriff and everything."

I was taken aback by his question. Normally when I partnered with other boys (besides Eric and Mike of course), there was a string of awkward silence when the assignment was completed and the boys would ditch me for their friends or whisper quite loudly across the classroom to their friends until they were caught.

"Uh–with my mom. She lives in California, I was visiting for the summer. She doesn't really have anyone else, so I promised her I'd stay for another month."

"California is a lot different from Forks," he chuckled. "Do you like it there? The sun and the heat?"

"Not really, if I'm being honest," it sounded like a lame response, but it was true, "The sun is nice until it's beating on you in 102 degree weather. It's pretty nauseating."

Edward let out a genuine laugh to my response, catching me off guard. Even his laugh was gorgeous.

"So what about you? Why Forks?" I questioned.

"Change of scenery, mostly. My mother, she's always wanted to live in a small town. My sister Rosalie isn't too fond of the town herself, she's a lot more uh... flashy than the rest of us," he chuckled. I listened to him intently while also mapping out the features of his perfectly chiseled face. His cheekbones, his lips. So perfect, like a sculpture..

"Yeah, I can definitely see that," I giggled, remembering Rosalie's modelesque entrance into the cafeteria, it was almost as if she was glowing. "And you? How're you liking Forks?"

"I like it. It's quiet. I'm not such a fan of the flare of bustling cities like Rosalie, I'm a lot more... simplistic."

Before I could speak, Mr. Banner comes rushing over to us. "So, seeing the two of you were the first ones to finish... I present the two of you... the golden onion," he says quite dramatically, revealing the onion from the back of him as if he were some cheap magician. We stared at the man, then at each other, fighting a fit of laughter. "Don't fight all at once! C'mon take it!" Banner said sarcastically.

Mr. Banner rolled his eyes, placing the golden onion on our lab table in front of us.

"I think you should have the honors," I giggled, moving the onion towards Edward.

"Nope, it's only fair you have it, you did most of the slides anyways," he smiled, trying to contain his laughter. My god, he was fucking gorgeous.

"Consider it as a gift, a warm welcome gift to Forks," I joked back.

"No, I insist," he chuckled. "See it as an apology gift. For how I acted when we first met." So I didn't imagine it.

That's when I had relinquished, placing the onion in my bag with possibly the biggest smile on my face.

After class, I expected Edward and I to part ways as I told him goodbye. But he stayed by my side, which resulted in awfully embarrassed, reddened-face Mike when he tried to rush to my side after the bell rang.

Walking out of class with him, for the first time I'd felt the comfortable silence as I strode beside one another through the halls.

"Did you get contacts?" I blurted out, stopping in my tracks. I didn't know exactly why I asked, I didn't really think much about it until now. I could've sworn from the first glance that his eyes were a flat black color or maybe my mind had altered it to match his dark attitude at the time. But now, as I studied his features, they were much brighter, a completely different shade from before. It was almost as if they were golden.

He offered me a puzzled look on his face before responding with a blank, "No."

I continued on, "Your eyes were like this dark dark brown before, but now they're this golden topaz color, I don't think I've ever seen eyes that color before."

He shrugged off my response, shifting to a similar demeanor from the time that I had first met him. He muttered, "I'll see you tomorrow." Then he was off, hands clenched into fists, clearly frustrated about something.

next chapter

a/n: this is going super slow rn but i'm trying to add a mixture of both the book and the movie that r my fav and also some of my own stuff of course! i'm trying to refrain from copying and pasting straight from the script and book, but some of lines are a MUSTTT. i always thought it was super lame that bella hated the cold so much. i'm from california and i absolutely hate the heat 3 this is also unedited again i apologize, so if the pov's are messed up that's why... hehe the next chapter is one of my fav scenes WHEN HE SAVESSS HERRRR !!

[infiniteglitterfall]

I think it'd be fun to sort of liveblog looking for countries that haven't abused/exiled Jews

I haven't found a list. So I'm making one.

Let's start with China. China has Jewish communities, and maybe not enough of them to become a target! The perfect amount?

Wow, Jews have lived in China since the 7th century CE. I've heard of the Kaifeng Jews!

Oh, this is ominous: "In the first half of the 20th century, thousands of Jewish refugees escaping from pogroms in the Russian Empire arrived in China. By the time of the establishment of the People's Republic of China in 1949, only a few Jews were known to have maintained the practice of their religion and culture."

Wow, fun fact:

According to an oral tradition dictated by Xu Xin, Director of the Centre for Judaic Studies at Nanjing University, in his book Legends of the Chinese Jews of Kaifeng, the Kaifeng Jews called Judaism Yīcìlèyè jiào (一賜樂業教), lit. the religion of Israel. Yīcìlèyè is a transliteration and partial translation of "Israel".

Surprising and cool:

Famous Venetian traveler Marco Polo, who visited China, then under the Yuan dynasty, in the late 13th century, described the prominence of Jewish traders in Beijing.

Neither surprising nor cool:

Genghis Khan called both Jews and Muslims Huihui when he forbade Jews and Muslims from practicing kosher and halal preparation of their food, calling both of them "slaves" and forcing them to eat Mongol food, and banned them from practicing circumcision.

In the late 1800s a lot of Jews emigrated from India and Iraq to China; they "took a considerable part in developing trade in China, and several served on the municipal councils."

In the early 1900s, 20,000 Jewish refugees from Russian pogroms emigrated to Harbin, in northeast China and "and played a key role in the shaping of local politics, economy and international trade."

Surprisingly:

Dr. Sun Yat-sen, founder of the Republic of China, admired the Jewish people and Zionism, and he also saw parallels between the persecution of Jews and the domination of China by the Western powers. He stated, "Though their country was destroyed, the Jewish nation has existed to this day ... [Zionism] is one of the greatest movements of the present time. All lovers of democracy cannot help but support wholeheartedly and welcome with enthusiasm the movement to restore your wonderful and historic nation, which has contributed so much to the civilization of the world and which rightfully deserve [sic] an honorable place in the family of nations."

Wow. It really doesn't go into any more detail about the SMALL gap between "40,000 Jews moved to China from 1845-1945," and "most of these Jews emigrated to Israel or the West... by the time of the establishment of the People's Republic of China in 1949, only a few Jews were known to have maintained the practice of their religion and culture."

That's four years.

Let's look at other sources.

At first, life in Shanghai was peaceful for its newest residents. The Jewish refugees were welcomed by Shanghai residents and they created a strong community with schools and a vibrant social scene. Some refugees began working as dentists and doctors, while others set up shops, cafes and clubs in the neighbourhood.

What the refugees couldn't foresee was they would travel across the globe only to fall into the clutches of the Nazis' most powerful ally. In 1941, Japan seized Shanghai. Acting under instruction from the Nazis, Japanese troops rounded up all of the city's Jews and confined them in Tilanqiao. Shanghai's Jewish ghetto had been born....

According to [historian Dvir] Bar-Gal, even prior to the Japanese invasion, many Jewish refugees in Tilanqiao lived in poverty compared to their comfortable lifestyles back in Europe. Conditions worsened greatly after Japanese soldiers gathered Jews from across Shanghai and forced them to all live within the borders of this newly formed ghetto. Jews were banned from leaving the area, even for work, unless they received permission from Japanese officers, which rarely happened.

Disease and malnutrition plagued the many heinously overcrowded group homes. "It went from a poor neighbourhood to an extremely poor neighbourhood," Bar-Gal said. "Many people had no jobs and lived in communal housing with many other beds and common bathrooms and kitchens. They had zero privacy and almost no food."

Yet, while six million Jews were murdered during the Holocaust, and up to 14 million Chinese soldiers and civilians were killed during their nation's war with Japan from 1937 to 1945, the majority of Shanghai's Jewish refugees survived. This remarkable feat was described by Holocaust historian David Kranzler as the "Miracle of Shanghai", and according to Bar-Gal, they survived because Jews weren't a primary target of the Japanese forces.

In 1945, when World War Two ended with the defeat of Japan and Nazi Germany, Japanese troops retreated and most of Shanghai's Jews quickly left, relocating to places like the US, Australia and Canada. But had Shanghai not taken these refugees in, many of these more-than-20,000 Jews may have never survived the Nazi death squads....

The first structure I came across was the imposing old Tilanqiao Prison. During World War Two, the Japanese incarcerated dozens of Jewish refugees and Chinese dissidents behind its thick stone walls. The brutality of the Japanese gave the Jews and the Chinese a common enemy and a shared experience. This connection remains strong, according to Tian.

That still leaves at least another 20,000, though? (I would say almost 20,000, but for the ones who already lived in China.)

Hmm. Here's a paper that says Jews "not only took part in the revolution but had also helped igniting it and then stayed on or joined later. While dealing with this puzzle in my paper, I’ll try to offer a typology of Jewish activists and revolutionaries in China, to explain their motives (by choice or not), and to evaluate their contributions in perspective. It appears that their Jewish identity did not play a direct role in their revolutionary activism, but it did play an indirect role. Included in this study are Grigorii Gershuni, Grigorii Voitinski, Boris Shumiatsky, Michail Borodin, Adolf Joffe, Pavel Mif, David Crook, Sidney Rittenberg, Israel Epstein, Sidney Shapiro, Solomon Adler, Sam Ginsbourg, Michael Shapiro, and more. Their main value to the revolution was mainly writing, translation, communication and publication. Although they were all deeply committed to the Chinese Communist revolution, some of them were jailed – for years – and occasionally more than once. Nonetheless, they continued to believe in, and even to justify, the Chinese Communist Party."

Wait, waaaaait. I was about to try to find the full paper (titled "Combining contradictions: Jewish contributions to the Chinese revolution"), but I ran across this first:

A century ago, the Communist International and the then-Russian Communist Party dispatched several agents to help foment revolution in China, including Russians like Grigori Voitinsky and Vladimir Neiman-Nikolsky and the Dutch Communist Henk Sneevliet. In addition to their shared commitment to Communism, all three were of Jewish heritage.

O rly??

They came with SKILLS!

On the evening of July 30, less than a month after the founding of the Communist Party of China (CPC), members of the CPC’s First National Congress met for a vote on a new party program. Suddenly, an unfamiliar middle-aged man barged into the meeting hall. “Sorry, I’m in the wrong place,” the man declared before hurrying off.

Sneevliet, well-versed in the techniques used by the police around the world to crack down on revolutionary activities, suggested that the meeting be adjourned and urged members to leave. By the time police arrived 10 minutes later, the building was already cleared out.

If you think that's impressive, try this!

Richard Frey... was an Austrian Jew who fled to Shanghai in the late 1930s. He worked for a hospital in the city until 1941, when he moved to a Communist military base in North China to teach medicine. In 1944, Frey was transferred to the central Communist base in Yan’an in China’s northwest Shaanxi province, where he soon succeeded in producing a crude but much-needed form of penicillin. 

He just. Made up his own penicillin for them.

What the entire fuck.

HERE we go!

International Journal of China Studies, December 2020. "Combining Contradictions: Jewish Contributions to the Chinese Revolution," by Yitzhak Shichor, University of Haifa and Hebrew University of Jerusalem.

Fun Fact:

Jewish Lithuanian activist Grigory Gershuni emigrated from Russia to China by hiding in a barrel of sauerkraut.

Yeah okay, I think China's number one on the list of Hey, Some Countries Didn't Try That!

Next time: Japan? Or Brazil? Hmmmm.

[pascaloverx]

Sweet Love

Summary: You're an up-and-coming writer, congratulations. To protect your beloved job, you're willing to do anything. Even strike a deal with the devil, better known as your sister's neighbor. You and Dean Winchester don't really see eye to eye, but in a moment of desperation, you agree to collaborate with him for a greater good.

Author's Notes: Many characters do not belong to me but to the Supernatural Universe (2005-2020). I hope you enjoy the fanfic's story. The fanfic will contain strong language and adult content.

chapter four chapter six

CHAPTER FIVE

The following days were calm. You and Dean exchanged glances when you met in the hallway of the building where you both live. You exchanged small kisses in the elevator, and when Sam was asleep, Dean made a late-night visit to you. One interesting thing is that since you started sleeping regularly with Dean, he has spent more time without bringing strangers home. And most importantly, your new book is going smoothly. This should cheer you up, but it doesn't. Because it means that when you finish writing the steamy parts of the book, this agreement with Dean will come to an end.

"Do you think your brother doesn't suspect anything?" You ask as you and Dean are coincidentally coming back from the grocery store together. Dean has his groceries in one hand and the other on your waist. He's leaning against the elevator while you're basically leaning against him.

"Do you really want me to think about my brother now?" Dean asks, his breath brushing close to your ear, and you smile awkwardly.

"We're in the elevator. Do you have a specific topic for now? Like what we've been doing together at night?" You turn to look at Dean, who looks at you with a mischievous gaze. You lean in to kiss him. A quick kiss, but full of passion. The truth is, there's chemistry between you and Dean, and spending time with him has been a good thing for you.

"I think we should drop off the groceries at your sister's apartment and head to the car. I think there are one or two things we can do there that will be good for your writing. A confined, tight space with two people. Sounds promising." He says between your kisses, which makes you giggle. Until the elevator door opens on your floor, revealing Castiel. He and Dean lock eyes, and you don't know what to do. Obviously, you step out of the elevator, and Dean follows suit, even though he hasn't shown any reaction since he saw Castiel. Castiel looks very handsome, with an elegant overcoat and a glow aura. But his expression shows concern.

"You didn't respond to my invitation, so I thought I'd come here to see if you…" Castiel speaks softly, as if gathering the strength to face Dean. Dean then stares at him, looking angry, and you wonder if it's a good time to leave the hallway and let them talk in peace. But Dean seems to read your mind and gently holds your hand. You wonder if he did this to feel support or to hurt Castiel.

"I've been busy. Damn, actually, I haven't been that busy, but you can imagine why I didn't respond to your invitation. Who invites their ex to their wedding?" Dean responds to Castiel, basically interrupting whatever Castiel might have been trying to say. You look at Dean with a disapproving glance.

"Do you really want to discuss this in front of Y/N?" Castiel asks, and you understand him. Their relationship is their business. As much as you're sleeping with Dean, it doesn't give you the right to interfere in his personal affairs.

"Actually, Castiel, I don't want to discuss this. I thought it would be obvious that I'm not going to your wedding but since I have to say it in so many words, I won't be able to watch you get married with someone else. I'm trying to overcome the hole you left in my life. It would be better if you respected that." Castiel looks a little saddened by Dean's words but shakes his head positively.

"I just wish we could be friends. But I don't think you're ready for that. I wish you the best in the world, Dean. And it was a pleasure seeing you again, Y/N." Castiel lightly touches Dean's shoulder and after the two exchange a long look. It's as if the tension between them is building up in front of you. A crestfallen Castiel leaves, taking the stairs instead of the awkward wait for the elevator.

"You could have been more delicate with him. Maybe he just wants you two to have a healthy end to your relationship." You say and Dean looks at you a little annoyed.

"Look, even though we fuck and get along well, we're not a couple. I don't need your advice. I am able to know how I should act in any situation." Dean is rude to you, which shouldn't surprise you but it does. You try to hide that you're upset by heading towards the door of your sister's apartment. But Dean holds the door before you can enter.

"What do you want? Insult me? Treat me like you just treated the guy who stood by your side for two years, even when you looked beyond repair?" You turn around nervously and speak with some anger but the truth is that you're not lying.

"I don't want to make the same mistakes, Y/N. I'm sorry if I was too frank or even a big idiot. I just..." Dean looks at you wistfully and you feel like he must simply be hurt. Which isn't an excuse.

"At the end of the day you're right. We're not together. You should do what you do best and go fuck everyone. Maybe then you'll get over what happened to you and Castiel. And if it wasn't clear, our agreement is over." You say looking into Dean's eyes and then you push the door hard and enter the apartment. You hear Dean call your name a few times, but you ignore him. Right now, all you want is a tub of ice cream and to watch a movie.

[queen-dahlia]

𝐆𝐢𝐥𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐯𝐨𝐧 𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐧

𝗠𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝗥𝗼𝘂𝘁𝗲: 𝗘𝗽𝗶𝘀𝗼𝗱𝗲 𝟬

I'm can finally rest! I haven't got a wink of sleep since yesterday (இ﹏இ`｡)

Note: Translation is not 100% accurate. Expect grammatical errors.

// : alternate translation

True love—for me, it's my last hope.

I decided not to love anyone anymore.

I decided not to trust anyone anymore.

There is no salvation and no compromise in a world of deceit and corruption in power.

I can't think of any other way to destroy it than by violence.

There will be much bloodshed.

Many will lose their lives.

Still, I decided to literally become the "disaster of the world."

The boy who once loved mankind is dead.

The boy who was heartbroken by the deaths of others is gone.

The plan was going well. Already, the world had progressed to such an extent that the next step would change it.

And yet, somehow, fate was whimsical.

══════════════════

Gilbert: "Rhodolite's Belle?"

Roderich: "Yes. Michael has informed me that you know her. You know, she's been selected as "Belle"."

Gilbert: "Hmm..."

When I heard the story, I felt an unusually strong emotion bordering on anger.

In Rhodolite, there is a "Belle System," in which the king is selected by the person with the most beautiful heart in the country.

One day, a commoner who had been living a peaceful life up to that point is suddenly chosen as Belle, and heavy responsibilities are pressed upon her.

I've always wondered how the selection process works.

But it was just another country. Obsidian and myself were supposed to be uninvolved.

ーUntil she was selected.

Gilbert: "The king is dead, isn't he? By now, the news of the king's death should not be known to the rest of the world."   //   "So, the king is dead. By now, "news of the king's death must not be known to other countries"."

Gilbert: "I wonder if they're saying something like, "You'll have to be the Belle when you find out our secret."   //   "I wonder if they say something like, "You know our secret; you have no choice but to become Belle."

Gilbert: "Poor thing. It's not just me; it's like the Rhodolite is watching you too."   //   "Poor little thing. I can't believe Rhodolite is on you and not just me."

Roderich: "... Your instructions, please."

Gilbert: "Well... I'm just a bystander. Just one of the readers who enjoys listening to the stories she spins."

Gilbert: "It would be foolish of me to intervene in that story, wouldn't it? As usual, I decided to take the high groundー"

Gilbert: ". . . . . ."

Roderich: "Can I help you?"

Gilbert: "No..."

Suddenly, I look down at the papers scattered on my desk.

The scribbled words tell the story of a certain innocent woman.

But the story stops halfway through.

Months went by without any further progress.

(I know her. But that's just a fantasy.)

(I can't let the Obsidian royal family get involved with a mere bookstore girl.)

(But if it's "Belle"...)

(Obsidian has good reason to mess around.)

It was really a whimsical and, at first, deeply unintentional scheme.

If I hadn't heard Belle's story, I would never have thought of it.

(To meet and die, or not to meet and die.)

(Then yeah... I prefer the former.)

Gilbert: "I'm sure there's a goodwill meeting coming up soon for Benitoite and Rhodolite?"

Roderich: "Yes, there is. They will be held exactly as in previous years."

Gilbert: "I see... Yeah, that's good."

Gilbert: "Roderich, please notify them that Obsidian will be participating this year."   //   "Roderich, please inform Obsidian that this year we will also participate."

Roderich: "Yes."

Roderich: "... Yes?"

Gilbert: "I'll go. I just want it to be held at Rhodolite."   //   "I'll go. But I want the venue to be held at Rhodolite."

Gilbert: "Benitoite is a long way away, and I'd rather stay in Rhodolite than anything else."

Roderich: "... Are you insane?"

Gilbert: "Oh, man, have I ever been insane?"

Roderich: "No. But I think "the doctor" will stop you."

Gilbert: "Don't tell anyone."

Roderich: ". . . . . ."

Gilbert: "I'm just being selfish for the last time, okay? I want to see the little rabbit."

Roderich: "What are you going to do when you see her? With all due respect, Sir, meeting Prince Gilbert isー"

Gilbert: "I know. It's just hell for her."

Getting involved could drag her down into a swamp of malice and turn her pure and beautiful heart black.

Knowing all of this, I chose my first and last private desire.

(Because I'm a big villain, you know.)

Gilbert: "Get ready, okay?"

Roderich: "At least, I'm going with you."

Gilbert: "Do whatever you like."

I invented all sorts of villainous reasons and purposes to meet her later on.

Instead of just "meeting her for a purpose", it's "fulfilling a purpose to meet her".

No matter what happens, the fundamental principle remains the same.

I didn't realize at the time that it seemed like a small difference, but it was a big difference.

══════════════════

(Well... So that's how I came to be at Rhodoliteーー)

The first thing I did when I came to the castle was to intentionally get lost.

The map of the castle had been drilled into my head by the information of the spy who had come to the castle and snuck in. 

It is easy to guess the room assigned to the little rabbit.

(I knew they wouldn't let me attend the goodwill meeting, but that turned out to be a bad thing.)

It's no wonder that Rhodolite took a back seat.

They must not have dreamed that the Prince of Obsidian would know Belle.   //   They must not have dreamed that the prince of Obsidian knew Belle.

I knock on the door, suppressing my feelings.

Emma: "Yes, who is it?"

Gilbert: "Oh, I knew there was someone there. I'm sorry, but may I ask you something?"

The door opened fearfully - and the woman who came out from inside was totally different from what I had imagined.

That's funny. "He" gave me the impression that she was a little younger...

She was an adult woman with clear eyes that were not stagnant at all.

I put a smile on my face so that she wouldn't notice my slight turmoil.   //   I put a smile on my face so that she wouldn't realize how slightly upset I was.

Gilbert: "Good evening, young lady."

Emma: "You are?"

Gilbert: "I'm not much to call myself, but I'm in a bit of trouble."

The woman is clearly alarmed and frightened.

Although I did not identify myself, she seemed to sense that the presence in front of her was "evil".

(You have a keen intuition. As expected of Belle.)

She has a good eye for people - and the impression I get from hearing about her and seeing her in person is different.

Gilbert: "I came to the castle to attend the goodwill meeting..."

Gilbert: "While admiring the interior of the castle, I got separated from the servant who was supposed to be my guide."

Gilbert: "It’s a bit embarrassing, but I’m a little lost."

Gilbert: "There isn’t much time before the meeting starts, so I just knocked on the first door I saw light peeking out from."

Gilbert: "I'm so glad you're here."

A woman with a face as lovely as a little bunny rabbit puts on a beautiful smile for an unknown man.   //   The woman with a lovely face, like a little rabbit, gives a beautiful smile to the unknown man.

She seemed to have made up her mind.

Gilbert: "Are you... a noble daughter from Rhodolite?"

Emma: "Yes. I am staying at the castle for my studies."

(Lies.)

Gilbert: "I see. I hear that women who have studied in the castle are sometimes promoted to the bureaucracy. You must be a very talented woman."

Emma: "I'm sorry. My butler will be back shortly, and when he does, he will show you the wayー"

Gilbert: "Yeah, I've decided. I'll let you show me the way."

Emma: "Uh…"

Gilbert: "This must be some kind of fate. Of course, you'll join me, right?

Of course, by this time, I was already thinking bad things.

When I met her, any faint hesitation I had disappeared.

(Because she looked more "beautiful" than I had imagined...)

(If it's going to get dirty, I'd rather get it dirty myself.)

══════════════════

Guard: "O-Obsidian's first prince, His Highness Gilbert von Obsidian, has arrived."

With a clang and the deliberate sound of a cane, we enter the hall of the goodwill meeting.

Just like that, the numerous royalty and nobility gathered there all fell silent at once.

Gilbert: "Ahaha, we look like the center of attention. I feel like I just became the main character."

Emma: "You..."

Gilbert: "I'm Gilbert, the first prince of Obsidian. Nice to meet you, Little Bunny."

(Now let the evil begin.)

══════════════════

Luke: "ーAnd?"

Gilbert: "Hmm?"

The next day, I visited Luke's room on a whim.

The new prince of Rhodolite sat by the window, unafraid of the arrival of the prince of Obsidian.

He is yawning carelessly. **

Luke: "What made you decide to come to Rhodolite?"

Gilbert: "Well..."

(I honestly don't want to be asked why.)

"I want to meet Miss Bunny," but "I still don't know why I want to meet her."

I was interested, I was curious—it doesn't quite fit into words.

(There are things I hope to see from the little rabbit. Some things I'd like to see through her.)

(I can explain it however much I want, but what is it? This feeling...)

(... I don't understand. That's weird.)

All emotions are wrapped up in a smile, and an index finger is placed on my lips.

Gilbert: "Secret."

[iloveyanderes]

Guys you might be sad to hear this but I've ditched genshin(had to say goodbye to my heizou) and jumped to honkai star rail.

Before anyone says anything just know I too am mourning the loss of the jump button.

Well anyway I want to talk about a theory I have.

When you start the game your immediately bombarded with the hottie known as kafka, I honestly had no idea what was happening and I still don't.

It's known that Kafka is technically the MC's(us) mom, I've rewatched the scenes a couple times again and noticed a lot of things.

When she talks to us one on one(except that time with silver wolf) she just sounds so concerned for us. I might be overthinking it but I feel as though she genuinely cares for us.

The first cutscene where the Mc and Kafka meet I instantly notice that Kafka seems to have known us for a very long time, while she does kind of feel like a mother if you watch it more closely you get a different feeling, it feels like were her long lost friend or something.

I've also watched a lot of tik toks about this and found out that it wasn't just Kafka that made the Mc but a bunch of other stelleron hunters helped too.

This is a pretty far stretch but I have a theory that the Mc is meant to be a clone of someone, I'd call this person og mc.

The og Mc was probably a member of the stelleron hunts, probably a very well liked member judging by how Kafka treats us when were alone, I actually haven't got to the part where the Mc meets blade so I don't know how he treats us, I think silver wolf treats us pretty well because it seems she has a habit of messing with people and she hasn't really done that to us(I think). We haven't met any of the other stelleron hunters but my instinct tells me that there going to treated well if we were ever one on one with them.

Back to the main theory, the og Mc was in the stelleron hunters, I predict that the og Mc died a very a painful death and didn't have the greatest life. The reason why I think that is because of a guy named Elio(pls let me know if I spelt it wrong).

When Kafka and silver wolf talk about Elio, they talk like what he's going to happen is absolute, Kafka told the Mc what elio said our future was gonna be like and damn it was pretty good, he said that people will like us and we'll get family, then at the end of our journey we will feel peace and our worries will wash away.

Since they are notorious criminals it feels unusual for this guy to give us such a good future. Now that I've added all my points I'll put my theory into one sentence.

The Mc is a clone of the og Mc who was a stelleron hunter and very well liked by the group, especially kafka. Then they died a very horrible death. Many years later Elio decided to create a clone of the og Mc known as our Mc, perhaps Elio had a deep bond with the og Mc so he wanted to give the clone a much better life, Kafka was on board with this but still couldn't help but feel the need to be closer to the Mc (hence why she shows up so much)

While this theory has a lot of loup holes, such as it doesn't explain why the Mc has a stelleron placed inside them by the stelleron hunters, it's technically a ticking timebomb that could kill them at any moment, it's all so confusing because of the future Elio said the Mc will have. Also why did Kafka act so concerned for the Mc when she was the one who put the ticking bomb inside of them.

Its very confusing and hoyoverse is doing a good job at keeping me confused.

Pls let me know your theories and I hope you enjoyed mine.

Have a good day

[drbased]

I am sickened by your symbolic state posts because at the moment I’m still living at home, a place that is generally unpleasant for me. I’ve been living in a near permanent state of maladaptive daydreaming since I was a young teenager and its only this year, with moving out on the horizon, that I’m trying to move from my head into reality again. It’s difficult and I don’t exactly know how to live 😂 like with your video game post especially. I don’t know how to live in the moment by following urges. I think: I want to write later, but I don’t plan what I’m to write. Instead of following the urge to do one certain thing I seek out a mindset for the future and then never get around to it. I’ve bought countless items, like necklaces with symbols or woven bracelets, allways promisimg myself that they will be special and lifechanging only for them to be empty. How do I get out of this? How do I stop myself from turning my life into feeings instead of actions?

(if you’ve given a similar answer I apologise. I’m scrolling through your symbolic state tag rn)

So, I've been having a hard time responding to this one. I still haven't been able to finish this post in a way I'm happy with but I really do want to respond so I'm going to have to keep my answer short and hope that I can produce something more valuable at a later date. But anon, your message has really stuck with me. Here's the answer I started writing some time ago:

How do I stop myself from turning my life into feelings instead of actions?

People keep summing this stuff up better than I can and it's driving me slightly insane; all younger me wanted was to be Known and now I have random anonymous strangers I've never met reaching into my fucking Soul like how is this possible. first the yearning anon and now this.

So the Bad, Irresponsible answer is to do what I did, which is sit in a room and hotbox it and ask myself questions and wait till my brain answers them. Weed is what allowed me to blow this whole thing wide open for me. But now I don't do weed anymore I can say that you achieve Inner Peace(TM) the 'hard' way just as well - but dear god with or without drugs this IS A PROCESS. And it HAS to be a process, because there is only process, no destination. After all, there is no 'you' in the future - there is only the reality of now, and the reality of 'you' in the now, and that is what is awe-inspiring and beautiful.

The entire process of re-engaging with reality has so many interconnected parts and requires so much analogy and explanation that I have been seriously considering writing a book about it. I struggle with PDA (pathological demand avoidance), and I believe it and depression are all wrapped up in my symbolic mindset. But since I don't have any background in clinical psychology I would feel like a hack writing a self-help book. So I'm probably going to end up talking about it here, instead. And maybe one day collate it all into some sort of book or series of essays.

The core of all of this is acceptance. Defining acceptance is hard; I best describe it as wanting to, say, move your arm - the moment you've wanted it sufficiently, the moment it has happened. There is minimal causal relationship between wanting it and it happening - sufficient want becomes action, necessarily. That sufficient want becomes action is something I learned to recognise during this process - the symbolic mindset is disengaging with the mundane reality of cause-and-effect such that said cause-and-effect is re-evaluated with a narrative structure instead, utilising symbols to generate meaning with an agenda in mind. So returning to reality has to involve strengthening the relationship between cause-and-effect, and the most sustainable way to achieve this is to recognise what you want moment-to-moment, and then immediately do the thing.

So, I refer to this really irritating (complimentary) comic:

When you struggle to do things for mind-based reasons, the claim 'it't not that simple' comes from a place of being unable to recognise that part of you doesn't want to do it. And this is where the acceptance comes in: being able to recognise yourself as messy, imperfect, finite, human, and a product of your environment - instead of a glorious, infinite source of potential - will result in you feeling less fragile, more complete, and less reliant on symbols to drive a narrative about yourself so you can feel comfortable with existence. Acceptance of yourself and your wants will result in more authentic actions, which will result in less of a need for everything to 'go right'.

The process of acceptance is something that happens within you, and you will feel it when it happens: acceptance is when something goes from simply being theoretically true (I can state that I am wearing blue trousers) to being something I believe (I know that I am wearing blue trousers). Said acceptance is much less fragile, because my belief of the colour of my trousers is something I no longer need to be true - if someone says my trousers are red, I can say 'oh, they probably are' and I can look down at them and make another judgment. If they're red, I don't panic, because when I believed they were blue, that was an innocent belief that came out of my flawed human mind. I am, in short allowed to make decisions, I am allowed to believe things, to think things, without them needing to be correct, without them needing to be more correct than the reality in which I exist - the reality that came before me, and will exist regardless of my ability to percieve it, Descartes be damned.

If you want to write, but find yourself unable to write, you might have to confront something embarrassing about yourself: that you don't, actually, want to do the process of writing; instead, you want to have written something. But believing of yourself as a conduit to, and obstacle in the way of, achievement, posits said achievement as a metaphysical construct of greater importance than the literal reality of how many hours you sacrificed for said achievement. There's both a humility and a sense of responsibility in all of this: you're the one who generates meaning and feels the feelings, so you must prioritise yourself over some percieved obligation to 'the universe' - your achievements are your own and do not exist in the ether first. But reality itself exists first, and you must engage with the physical world in order to strengthen that causal relationship. There was a post I read a while back about how if you're struggling with gender dysphoria, then exercise can really help - this works because it operates under the same principle that without a natural interaction with cause-and-effect, the brain constructs a narrative to fill in the gaps, kind of like phantom-limb syndrome.

The realisation 'it is that simple' comes from the moment of acceptance. The moment 'it is that simple' is the moment you understand that writing a book is the same as moving your arm - if you want it enough, you will do it. There are many things that you may want *in theory* - but those are infinite, metaphysical, symbolic. There is only the reality of who you are and what you experience, moment-to-moment. Until you go and make that sandwich, your hunger isn't even proof that you need to eat anything. You show your depth of self through directly interacting with the real world, whatever form that takes. Symbolic thinking is what happens when you stop interacting with the real world, including the reality of your own selfhood, and the result dissatisfaction will have you sunk-cost-style retreating further and further back. Breaking out of it is hard but it's all a testament to just how much what we want is who we are.

I've barely scraped the surface here of what it takes to do all this - but this is the fundamental basis of the principle that I developed and still use to this day. It's the principle I used that got me starting to write on tumblr - instead of pathologising my desire to analyse, I decided to start getting my thoughts out into the world. Instead of waiting till I can achieve a known symbol of completion - instead of writing a book - I decided to engage in a much more immediate form of writing by directly writing out, with zero plan, what I think and publishing it instantly to the world. Because of this, my thoughts have ceased to exist as some testament to my big-brained genius - and will vanish along with me when I die - and representative of my fragile ego, but rather something I use to directly engage with other in the material space. My ideas now generate meaning because of their relationship with reality, not in spite of it. And it's infinitely more satisfying.

[briar--rising]

Rosh Hashanah is next week. It's always been my favorite holiday, and every year I prepare for it and look forward to it. But this year I've been dreading it, and until this past week I couldn't figure out why.

I haven't been to synagogue much in the past year. I've gone a handful of times, but much less than any other year since graduating college. And I thought of going, my therapist tried to encourage me to go because she knows it often makes me feel better, but there was just this inner resistance that I couldn't figure out and wasn't ready to look at closely enough to decipher anyway. And then as the High Holy Days got closer and closer I started to notice that I was really dreading them, which is not how I usually feel. And so I brought it up in therapy on Tuesday, and came to some really important realizations.

I've been doing a lot of very serious grief work and trauma work this fall. My most serious trauma anniversaries are almost all in the fall, and it's a season of great grief and usually highly elevated symptoms for me. My first serious psychotic break was in the fall, four of my five hospitalizations have been in the fall, etc. Until this year I spent every autumn of the past decade pretty severely psychotic. I could not face the trauma and grief that this time of year brings up for me, I could not process those feelings and memories without losing my mind in defense so that I wouldn't have to truly experience them. I've always known this, and for a few years have tried very hard to truly experience my grief and not retreat into psychosis, but I never managed it until this year.

This autumn has been different. I've still struggled with psychosis much more than in the summer, I still have to fight it most days. But I'm winning most of those fights. And I'm grieving. I'm mourning, I'm crying, I'm sitting with my feelings for as long as I can bear and then distracting myself from them when they get too much instead of retreating into symptoms most of the time. I'm genuinely experiencing the thoughts and feelings I need to be experiencing. I'm reading about death, about grief, about loss, I'm talking about these things in therapy. It's often incredibly painful, though sometimes it is simply a peaceful kind of sorrow. I'm getting in touch with a lot of the feelings I've found so difficult to face from some of the hardest times of my life, and I'm experiencing some of them again.

And some of those feelings that I was really quite blindsided by and that I've been largely repressing for 15 years are incredibly complicated feelings about G-d. When I was 11 years old I was just like any other religious and traumatized kid: I prayed to G-d to fix it. I did that thing kids do, I tried to make bargains with Him. "Dear G-d, if I clean my room will You save my mommy? If I'm perfect, will You fix my family?" You know. Things like that.

I was desperate for anything, anyone to save me. I talk sometimes about the particular traumas of that year, about my brother's birth, about my mother's hospitalizations, about her suicide attempt. But I have no words to express the year as a whole, except to say that terrible thing after terrible thing after terrible thing happened, and throughout all of it I was neglected and left at sea. My mom was sick, my dad was trying to keep his head above water, no one was there for me. So I tried to turn to G-d. And when He wasn't there for me either, I felt incredibly abandoned and betrayed, both by Him but also because I was taking my feelings about my family neglecting me during severe trauma and putting them onto Him. It's hard for me to express the levels of hurt and rage I felt at G-d during that time period.

And then my memory cuts out. I remember approximately nothing from shortly after my twelfth birthday (in June) until November over a year later. I have a handful of memories of specific events that took place at school or at camp, but absolutely zero memories of my internal feelings or anything that ever took place at home during seventh grade. It's just. Gone. Always has been, probably always will be.

The next significant things I remember in terms of my relationship to G-d and my religion are all about Hebrew High School, which I loved (I got to start it early bc I was being bullied in normal Hebrew School), and preparing for my Bat Mitzvah, which I also loved. My memory goes from intense feelings of betrayal and abandonment and agony to instantaneously a relatively low conflict, positive relationship with G-d and Judaism (with Jewish-appropriate amounts of questioning of course and moments of anger, but no true rage and despair like I once felt). And I stayed in that space of Judaism-as-comfort-with-minimal-internal-conflict for the next 10+ years. I have no idea how that transition happened, but it certainly didn't occur because I slowly and naturally dealt with all of my complicated feelings and embraced religion after processing.

And then this year, well. I guess the processing came due. I'd like to be very very clear that being Jewish always has been and always will be incredibly important to me, and nothing about any of this changes that. I am struggling, though. I'm re-experiencing a lot of those childhood feelings of betrayal and abandonment and confusion and rage. And not being ready to face those feelings is why I've been subconsciously avoiding synagogue for the past year, and is why I've been dreading the holidays. At least now I'm aware of what's happening, so that's a step in the right direction. And in the long term this is a good and important step not only in my trauma recovery but in my relationship with Judaism and with G-d; I can't have as deep of a relationship as I want without this kind of struggle. To quote my therapist, "your relationship with Judaism is too important to you to be easy." Thankfully in Judaism struggling like this is not only allowed but expected. But it is a struggle, right now. A painful one.

I leave you all with a song I've been listening to on repeat that is helping me confront and think about a lot of these feelings:

[pinkxlicious]

Yule Ball P.2

Part 1

*Doesn't follow timeline*

I was gonna make this mushy but I have a 3rd part planned and I need things to be angsty.

Words: 2.2k

'''

"What do you mean by that?" She asked, slightly offended and confused.

"Oh maybe its the fact that he's a player you have no idea what you're getting yourself into," He scoffed at her, "I'm actually surprised you haven't heard the stories about him, maybe you are really just a nobody."

"Oh that's really sweet, Malfloy. It's just a dance, and why do you care so much? Jealous?" She snapped, obviously irritated.

"Jealous? Why would I be jealous, I couldn't care less about who you go with," He lied, digging his nails into his palm, trying to prevent himself from saying anything stupid. Unfortunately, Draco was one to give in to impulsive thoughts and he would blurt things out without thinking.

"Oh really? Then why are you pissed that I'm going with Blaise? I don't think its a big deal, but you're acting like it is,"

"How am I acting like its a big deal? I'm just trying to tell you how he is!" Draco shot back,

"Since when did you care? I don't understand why you're acting like you care when you obviously don't! What is your problem, can't you just let me live in peace and make my own decisions??"

"No, I won't. Not unless you tell Blaise that you're not going with him," He said angrily, cringing at his own words.

"Who do you think you are??" She said in disbelief, "Why would I just ditch my date just because you told me to! For all I know, you're just trying to sabotage me!"

"Why would I sabotage yo- oh nevermind," He mumbled,

"Exactly, for the past week or two that I've known you, you've been nothing but insufferable and rude! You're constantly trying to make my life harder than it already is. And you wonder why I won't take 'advice' from you," She got up and left, she was beyond pissed and somewhat in disbelief. Who does he think he is?? Telling her what to do. What a slut.

'''

Draco walked swiftly into the Slytherin common room, and angrily searched for his 'best friend' who he currently resented with much passion.

"Blaise," Draco said angrily and flatly, "how dare you, how fucking dare you."

Blaise already seemed to know what he was going on about.

"Look man, I know you're worked up but I have a reason-"

"No you don't!" Draco snapped angrily, "You know I like her, and you went out of your way to ask her out right? Why would you do that to me?!"

Blaise held up his hands in defense, the two seemed to be oblivious to the stares from their peers.

"Look, Draco c'mere man," Blaise guided Draco to the back of the common room with a shit eating grin. "Just hear me out on this."

"I'm not sure if I want to," Draco said lowly, following him reluctantly.

"Look I asked her out because I have a plan, a super brillant plan. I'm not gonna tell you the details because I know you're not gonna approve... But just wait, you're gonna swoop in at the right time and sweep her off her feet. Okay?" Blaise said proudly with a huge smile on his face.

"No, you have to tell me the details, Blaise. You and I both know I don't trust you enough to make decisions on your own-"

"No you just gotta rely on me this one time, you'll thank me I swear I won't mess this up. Plus, I've dealt with these situations before," Blaise smiled proudly at his words, hoping his best friend would take him up on his offer. He had a good feeling that this would go in his and Draco's favor.

"I... fine. If you screw this up I swear I'm gonna murder your entire family line. This is important to me, she is important to me," Draco warned, pointing a finger at him before sighing in exasperation. "You stress me out."

"I know,"

'''

A day before the Yule ball, Y/n and Draco were still scrubbing cauldrons. Professor Snape decided to prolong their punishment once again, but thankfully he was merciful enough to let them off for the dance the next day. But for now, the two were stuck scrubbing their arms off on the dirty floor of the potions class room.

Y/n seemed to be extremely stressed, scrubbing the life out of her cauldron while half zoned out. She hadn't even responded to Draco's sarcastic remark to her frantic movements.

"Y/n?" Draco questioned, looking at her again genuinely concerned. Her eyebrows were furrowed slightly as her scrubbing intensified. "Y/n."

"Huh?" She snapped out of her trance, blinking her eyes in confusion. "Sorry, what?"

"Are you okay? You're like, acting weird, weirder than normal,"

"Ha ha," She said sarcastically, "I'm fine, just- I dunno."

Draco raised his eyebrows, surprised she didn't have a well prepared answer for him... Like she always had.

"What is it?"

"Why would I tell you," She scoffed, "you'd make fun of me."

He rolled his eyes, "Just tell me I don't care."

She fell silent, contemplating on whether or not she should tell him. "Did you really mean what you said yesterday? That... Blaise would just play me?"

Draco looked up, surprised she was so nervous over something he said. "Um, I'm surprised you actually took my words to heart," He said sheepishly.

"Were you just trying to get through my skin or did you actually mean it?" She said, staring him down as he scowled.

"Both, but honestly... it really has been a while since he's seen anyone. I don't know," Draco shrugged, but genuinely, he truly had no clue. He knew Blaise would play any girl. But this was Y/n and Blaise had told Draco explicitly that he had a plan. And he had no idea what this plan was.

"Are you just saying that because he's your best friend? Or are you being serious, not like you'd actually tell me the truth anyways," She mumbled quietly, Draco looked at her.

"Look, I really don't know. Just… just don't worry about it," Draco wanted to punch himself, wanting to say more but he couldn't. "Why are you worried anyways?"

"It's really not a big deal honestly..." Y/n thought about it for a sec. "It's just a dance," She thought for a few moments before laughing. "It's just a dance it's not like he asked me to date him! I don't know why I was so worried."

She smiled to herself before continuing with her scrubbing. This time she was a lot more relaxed and gently scrubbed in more fluid motions.

"Uh- how are you and Pansy?" Y/n asked, trying to fill the silence. Draco cringed and almost gagged.

"I cancelled last minute, I'm going alone," Draco admitted, slightly embarrassed that he didn't have a date. "She was just so persistent."

Y/n laughed, "I think she's rather pleasant, but yes she can be a little persistant."

"Pleasant? Are we talking about the same girl?" Draco asked in disbelief, a faint smile of amusement painted across his face. She laughed, leaning her head back, silently enjoying their brief bonding time.

"She truly isn't horrible if you really talk to her! I was her potions partner last year. She was a bit insufferable at first I'll have to admit but through it all she's a very genuine person if you take the time to know her," She said, speaking fairly high of this supposedly persistant crazy girl. Draco shook his head and scoffed.

"Whatever you say..."

"No really!-"

"Okay, okay..." Draco cut her off, she smiled in satisfaction. Draco couldn't help but stare back at her with almost a smile, staring into her eyes. He just couldn't help himself but lean in just ever so slightly. She stared back, her lips parted gently as she got lost into his gaze. His gaze flickered to her lips for a second before he turned away, breaking the tension instantly. Her breath caught in her throat before she quickly returned back to scrubbing her cauldron.

"So uh..." Y/n trailed awkwardly, "Do you know what you're wearing tomorrow?"

Draco raised his brows and scoffed, "Why is that all you talk about?" she stared up at him, offended.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that's all you talk about, do you even have a personality outside of that?" Draco sneered, he wanted to shut himself up but after that moment of vulnerability he couldn't help himself.

"I- I was just curious, is that too much? I thought we were actually getting along, why are you acting up now?" She shot back, then she added softly, "Why do you ruin everything?"

Draco, looked at her with disbelief, "I ruin everything? Have you even taken a look at yourself? You can barely contain yourself."

"Now you're just projecting," She said angrily, “Look at yourself right now! You’re barely containing yourself as it is right now. And don’t you dare talk to me like that, you and I both know that I did absolutely nothing and I’m NOT taking your shit today.”

Cleared. Silence filled the room for a bit. Draco then cleared his throat.

“Uh, a tux… you?”

She smiled to herself softly, “I found this super cute pink dress when I was at hogsmeade. It’s gorgeous but not too over the top but not super basic. It’s got this lovely detail design and it’s beautiful,” She spoke enthusiastically, Draco looked at her with amusement.

“Did you only bring up the topic to rant about your dress?” He asked chuckling near the end of his sentence as she smiled sheepishly.

“Maybe…” She said, the two were bonding again. She liked it like this, she liked it a lot actually. Then suddenly a thought crossed her head. “Do you think Blaise likes me? Or…”

“Why are you bringing up Blaise?” Draco said a little flatly, but still curious and interested into what she had to say.

“Because you know him the best,” Draco shrugged and nodded in agreement. “He is rather dreamy I guess, sounds cliche and corny I know. But like he doesn’t act like a player.”

Draco held his tongue, fighting himself internally. Preventing himself from insulting his best friend out of jealously.

“Oh yeah?” He forced out, “How so.”

“He didn’t just ask me to go to the dance and never talk to me again. He talks to me everyday, and he’s really sweet actually. Does he normally do that to other girls?”

Draco’s breath hitched. Whatever Blaise’s plans were, he wasn’t enjoying it. But he trusted Blaise enough not to steal his girl.

“I mean no not normally,” Draco sort of huffed out, frustrated slightly. She examined his facial expression.

“Are you okay? You seem mad,” She asked cautiously, although they weren’t exactly on friendly terms, she wanted to care.

“Why do you care,” Draco said coldly, she seemed upset by his words.

“Why are you being so mean again, we were just bonding like not even five minutes ago,” She said perplexed by his mood swings.

“Bonding? You call that bonding?” He scoffed and laughed coldly, “All you did was talk about your stupid dress and hooking up with Blaise. And look, to lay it out for your small brain. Blaise is gonna break your heart, just because he treats you better than the other girls doesn’t make you special.”

She seems taken aback by this outburst, she seems confused, then hurt, then angry. Her brows furrowed and she looked him in the eye.

“I didn’t say I was special or different, I was just asking you if you thought I…”

“That you what?” Draco asked coldly,

“If I had a chance, okay?” She said quickly, peeking up at his expression.

“Why??” Draco asked with so much confusion.

“He seems like a genuine person, I don’t know…”

“Y/n I thought you were smart, I guess you’re actually insanely stupid. If you haven’t heard, Blaise is a big fat player who’s bored. So all I know is that he’s only asking you because he thinks you’re another pretty face to play with,” Draco said staring her down. “You’re no different than all the girls he’s ever been with.”

Her heart broke slightly at his words, “Look I don’t need you going so low when giving me the truth. And what if you’re wrong? Maybe he really likes me? You’re so impossible, you’re always just making things so hard.”

She kept her eyes down, taking in her embarrassment and and hurt from his cruel but possibly true words. She wanted him to be wrong so desperately.

“Don’t come crying to me when he shatters your heart in a million pieces because I won’t be there to listen to your dumb fucking rants. And your dress is probably hideous like every part of you.”

She got up and left without another word, she couldn’t let him get any satisfaction of her tears. Even though if he had saw them he would feel the exact opposite. Draco didn’t know why he said such cruel things to her. Especially this one, this one was much worse than all the others. And right now he wished he had just kept his mouth shut and listened.