#i repeat these are RUMOURS. DON’T COME FOR ME IF IT’S FALSE.

[menalez]

If the thing about your family having slave(s) is just lies, why has it come up every like year or so for the past like 10 years lol? Just own up, like it's obviously part of your history or you wouldn't get so defensive and retort every time it resurfaces on radblr. Like, sorry you don't like being held responsible or being called out on your bullshit, but it's so transparent that you're just feeling a bit too accurately attacked 😘

because obsessive weirdos clearly like making up shit to justify their feelings towards me? lmao “why do we anonymous keep repeating lies about u if it isn’t true?🤔”

it’s obvious u don’t genuinely think my family has slaves (wtf kind of bizarre accusation even is that) based on y’all’s anons alone! u think i have parents that are slaveowners and ur reaction is to send catty anons with “lol” and 😘? really looks like ur taking ur extremely serious claims seriously here. ur talking about a potential person being enslaved and yet u have 0 evidence, justified it by falsely claiming it’s ok to make up rumours about me bc i surely must’ve done that to others too (so even admitting u lied!), and are actively laughing about the thought of someone being enslaved. very telling

[archester-creations]

always should be someone you love

Rated: G

Pairing: merwainethur (Merlin/Gwaine/Arthur)

Word Count: ~1k

A/N: love spell; court sorcerer Merlin; briefly mentioned Gwen/Lancelot/Morgana where Gwen is dating them both and Lancelot and Morgana are bi-wlw solidarity

"Sir Leon, we have a problem."

Leon briefly raised his eyes to the sky and prayed for strength. Maybe if he asked nicely Arthur would make someone else head knight. Maybe Lancelot. Lancelot was nice and loyal. Though he knew he wouldn't actually give up the job, but sometimes it was nice to imagine. "What is it, Mordred?"

"King Arthur seems to be under a love spell," Mordred said.

There was a long pause where Leon attempted to let the words sink in. Or maybe they sank in immediately and he just didn't want to believe them. "A what?"

"A love spell," Mordred repeated to his chagrin.

"And what makes you say that?" Leon asked. He already felt tired.

"The flowers he keeps giving to Sir Lancelot," Mordred said.

"Maybe he just wants to show Lancelot how much he appreciates him as a knight of Camelot," Leon said, hopeful if not for how false that sounded even to his own ears.

"He's also giving him love confessions, Sir Leon," Mordred said. Taking the thin thread of hope with it. Of course, why not.

"Thank you for letting me know, Mordred. I'll take care of it," Leon said. Mordred nodded and walked off to wherever he wanted to go while Leon prepared himself to go where he didn't want to go.

When he found Arthur, it was with his hand in an amused, and a little embarrassed looking, Lancelot's. Morgana was there as well. She looked very amused. If this wasn't another thing in a long list of things he felt he had to deal with too much of, Leon might find the horrendous platitudes falling from Arthur's lips amusing, too, but alas.

"Lancelot."

Lancelot looked over at him, eyes alight like he just saw his saviour from the executioner's block. "Leon!" Immediately Arthur quieted– a small blessing. The pout Arthur shot him at being interrupted was the same from when he fought with Merlin. "Thank gods you're here. Help me get him to Gaius?"

"I'll try." Leon nodded. He took Arthur's other arm and they pulled him along between them, Arthur quiet on the way and content to be led by Lancelot. All Leon really did was wave away curious servants and knights. That was fine, Lancelot had his hands full.

"So where is Merlin?" Leon asked, because this was something Merlin would usually help with. Which made Leon suddenly have to question how many love spells Arthur had fallen under over the years without his knowledge. Vivian's first visit to Camelot came to mind. He stopped questioning.

Lancelot shrugged. "I sent a servant for him when I sent Mordred for you, but I haven't seen him yet."

"I see," Leon said.

The one bright side was they got Arthur to Gaius’ chamber without much trouble. There were a few nosy servants, as well as a few genuinely concerned ones, so there would likely be rumours of an injury around the castle for a few days. But those were pretty common. Lancelot managed to guide Arthur to a chair and get him to sit down, staying beside him so Arthur would actually stay. The entire time, Gaius watched, an eyebrow raised.

“We need an antidote for a love spell,” Leon said. The way Gaius sighed and looked knowingly at Arthur did not make him feel much better. But at least it meant Gaius knew what to do.

“You’ll need to find whoever he truly loves. Only a kiss from them will bring him back,” Gaius said.

Lancelot nodded. “Do you know who that might be?”

Leon sighed. He remembered secretly catching Merlin, Gwaine, and Arthur together a month ago. At least they would both be brought to the roundtable so they wouldn’t have to find them.

“I don’t, sadly,” Gaius said. “I wish you luck.”

"Thank you, Gaius," Lancelot said. He turned to Arthur, whose eyes never left him. "Come on, let's go back to the other knights."

"Alright." Arthur smiled dopily up at him. It was a bit strange to see on Arthur; a lot more open than any similar looks Leon had seen. Maybe after they solved this, Arthur would show looks its like more readily. Since this would destroy any relationship secrecy those three had.

 The headache was worse. In front of him, Arthur sat in a chair with Lancelot next to him. He was totally unaware of the chaos around him– a blissful unawareness Leon wished for– as his focus was only for Lancelot, eyes big and occasionally sighing wistfully. It was a good thing Morgana wasn't here because she would have a field day with her brother being head-over-heels for her girlfriend's boyfriend. On his left were the knights. As far as Leon could tell, they'd divided themselves into two camps with Lancelot doing his best to mediate impartially– perhaps he actually thought that Arthur liked them both?– from Arthur's side, the king's hand still in his. The two camps, of course, were whether Arthur loved Merlin or Gwaine. Mordred seemed to be a firm supporter of Merlin. On his right were Merlin and Gwaine, currently in a debate as to how 'kissed by who you truly loved' even worked when you romantically loved more than one person, given that it wasn't exactly clear. They were also arguing over who should kiss Arthur. If anyone asked Leon, though he was sure no one would, neither of these arguments seemed very serious.

"Arthur loved you first, Merls, you should kiss him!"

"You didn't know Arthur back then. I can assure you he liked you first, so you shoul-"

"CLEARLY Emrys is the better choice than some chronically drunken idiot!"

"He's more than just a chronically drunken idiot!"

Yeah. The headache was much worse. Leon pinched the bridge of his nose. He regretted ever getting out of bed this morning. In fact, after this was over, he would retire for the day.

“Why don’t you both just kiss him?” Leon said. It cut off Merlin and Gwaine’s argument, though not the knight’s argument which was still going strong. Leon was pretty sure if it continued, a minor civil war might break out. Percival was cracking his knuckles. Both Merlin and Gwaine turned to look at him, before they looked back at each other.

Gwaine shrugged, eyebrows raised.

“Well it can’t hurt,” Merlin said. Gwaine stood up and walked over to Lancelot with Merlin on his heels.

“Lancelot, my good man?” Gwaine gestured for him to leave, of which Lancelot looked grateful. It took a bit of prying to get Arthur’s hand off his wrist. The second he did, he was at the other side of the room. Arthur reached for him, but Merlin held him back.

"Wait, wait Lancelot my love, where are you going?" Arthur cried desperately, eyes heartbroken. This finally put an end to the knight’s argument. They slowly turned to Arthur. He’d begun to struggle, and Merlin’s eyes were golden as he kept him in place. “Merlin! Unhand me!”

“Ready, Gwaine?” Merlin asked.

“Always.” Gwaine smiled.

And they kissed him as one. Somehow they managed it without knocking their heads together. It made Leon think they must’ve had practice at it. And then he stopped thinking. There was a cheer from Elyan. Arthur blinked a couple times when they pulled back and his eyes lost the doe look Leon barely noticed before now. As a knight of Camelot, he felt a bit shameful that he'd missed the magicked look of the love spell, but it was a little overshadowed by how he clung to Lancelot so he decided it was fine. Besides, now he better knew what to look for for next time.

Next time.

Leon blinked.

"I'm going back to bed," Leon announced. Before anyone could argue with him, he turned on his heel and walked out the door.

[potato-girl99981]

It’s crystalllll clear that you and the others are going into the “other 2’”s DMs trying to shame them for “making up rumours” when they’re not even the ones doing and it and have had super reasonable answers? literally saw multiple posts from both DOUBTING the asks that were coming their way

you all claim you don’t want drama and that you “blocked the two” or whatever but really it’s just that you don’t wanna see anything bad about the man you stan. keep up that pick me holier than thou attitude though

it’s laughable how much you act like them filling up his tag on tumble is some huge bad thing that has costs to the “fandom” or whatever i guarantee most of us are just watching with popcorn in our seats

I didn't block or dm anyone, I don't know about others. I can honestly say I've sent one ask asking that maybe creating a cycle of anon posting false info, encouraging them with their reactions and then getting another asks that clears everything up is good but I won't tell anyone to stop posting or worse, criticizing someone, valid criticism is the key to progress and I value it greatly. Also, yes I've seen people also doubt their asks, but those two situations coexist. I'm stating my opinion in a respectful way and I don't want to offend anyone, if any of my posts offended you anon, I'm sorry. I already commented about the fandom so I won't be repeating myself but I'm just saying to keep an eye on the actual facts and treat Gigi, Glen, Sydney and other users here with respect they deserve.

Have a nice day

[seimei-chsq]

jfanyu twitter is allegedly reporting that ms satomi ito has requested that the origin 2.0 costume being displayed for an exhibit be removed from the showcase because she needs to work on it… (i repeat, allegedly. it’s not confirmed.)

but still. does this mean. we could maybe. potentially. see origin performed again for one of the upcoming FaOI stops…? 👀 manifesting us getting to see yuzuru have his little ~prince of darkness~ moment again :)

[heloisedaphnebrightmore]

Regardless of the bond [James Potter x Reader]

Title: Regardless of the bond Pairing: James Potter x Female!Reader Word count: 3.3k Published: 19 April 2021 Author: Heloise Daphne Brightmore Summary: [x] The existence of soulmates was hard for you to believe. You wished to be one of them, but after your 18th birthday, when you were supposed to experience a difference, you are left disappointed. Knowing you didn’t have that special bond and you had to continue watching the one you liked so deeply love someone else makes you want to just disappear. Bingo: [x] This is part of my Make me feel Bingo Card by @girl-next-door-writes

Square filled: Alternative Universe

Harry Potter Characters Masterlist | Masterlists

Make me feel Bingo Masterlist

If you enjoy my stories, please consider donating and supporting me on Ko-fi. Of course, it’s completely your choice, I will continue updating for free anyway :) Thank you <3

Soulmates were a very widely known myth that many believed and wished to experience, but some found it to be a silly little idea created by those who romanticised the idea to be with someone for the rest of their lives. The thought of loving someone and being loved unconditionally was indeed one that many wished to have, but since soulmates were rather rare, people often ignored its existence and chose to find love themselves. According to the myths, some people experienced finding their soulmate with a simple touch, where for a mere second, they saw images of their future life together. For some it was a sensation, a pulling force telling them that they belonged together. There were some theories where they could recognise each other’s scent. Many different myths have been spread throughout the centuries, but there was one mutual theory in all of them. When it happens, you just know it, you feel it, every single fibre of your body screams for that certain person to stay in your life.

You were one of those who believed it but didn’t think it would ever happen to you. You hoped, of course you did, but you were more logical than to rely on an old myth. Having such a strong connection was a lovely idea, but it was hard to believe that it would be handed to you on a silver plate. All the fairy tales you have heard about from your parents said that the soulmate-bond would be activated after your 18th birthday if you had one. But of course, it’s been a month and you have felt no different than before, reassuring you that you weren’t any special.

You were seated in the Gryffindor common room, legs thrown over the arm of the sofa, hanging down on the side as you doodle little drawings on a piece of ripped parchment.

“What are you doing?” You heard a voice and as you looked up, you recognised Lily standing in the doorway.

“Just drawing,” you replied, turning back to your parchment, ignoring your friend.

“Good, good,” she nodded and took a seat beside you, staring at your doodles.

“Is there anything you want?” You asked, turning back to her with an expectant expression, brows running high.

“Nope,” she popped the ‘p’ as she shook her head. You frowned at her rather strange behaviour, but once again turned back to your drawings, trying to ignore her staring. However, it seemed to be a task easier said than done. Feeling Lily’s breath on your neck and her eyes attached to your drawing, whilst squirming in her place chased all your creativity away. You folded up your paper and looked at your friend once again.

“You are being fairly annoying,” you stated with a grimace.

“I didn’t even do anything,” she huffed, crossing her arms in front of her chest and turning to the opposite direction, giving you a side-glance every once in a while.

“Breathing down my neck and staring at me is quite creepy and as much as I love you, your behaviour is very unusual so spill it, what’s going on?” You asked firmly, causing Lily to scrunch her nose and pout in a child-like manner. She was a very smart witch and an even better friend, but at times she was capable of getting on your nerves with a simple look. “Come on, I don’t have all day to wait for you,” you rushed her as you stood up and tossed the folded parchment in the drawer of your desk and closed it with a thudding sound.

“I have overheard a little discussion between James and Sirius. They were talking about you,” she smirked playfully, wiggling her brows as though you were supposed to understand.

“I’m not sure what kind of reaction you are expecting of me,” you frowned in confusion.

“Well, certainly a happier one than the one I’m getting now,” she grimaced. “I have been hearing nothing else from you, but how much you’ve liked James since the first time you talked,” she tried to lead you to the right direction, but you still stood there cluelessly.

“So?” you asked.

“So? James and Sirius were talking about you,” Lily repeated slower as if you didn’t understand before.

“I heard you for the first time too, I’m not stupid. I simply don’t understand what you want from me. James and Sirius are my friends, they will inevitably talk about me if I come up in a subject,” you shrugged nonchalantly.

“You are unbelievable. I overheard James telling Sirius that he has feelings for you,” Lily exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air. But instead of excitement you gave her a deadpan expression. “Okay, I’m not sure what’s going on with you today, but I’m honestly starting to think you are broken or something,” she huffed.

“We both know that James has been running after you for years, Lils. Sure, we are close, I love him to bits, however, I am nothing but a friend to him. I’m not sure what you heard or what you misunderstood to be exact, but we both know James has liked you for years and I find it hard to believe that his last year will be the one where he changes his mind so abruptly,” you explained. Whilst a part of you wished to believe it was true, a more logical side made sure to crush those hopeful thoughts that tried to sway you.

“I’m sorry, but I’m quite sure of what I heard. And why couldn’t he? Crushes come and go, and he hasn’t asked me out or showed any interest in me for the last month or so. I do believe he has feelings for you, but you have been friends for so long, you can’t expect him to just walk up to you and confess,” Lily tried to pressure your logical side, but you couldn’t find it in you to agree. You have liked him for so long, you were numb to even the thought of him ever reciprocating your feelings.

“Ok, I accept that. Now that we have concluded this conversation, can we actually grab something to eat?” You asked whilst walking towards the door and opening it for Lily, waiting for her to follow you.

“You’re definitely broken,” she huffed, annoyed by your nonchalant behaviour.

“And you are rather annoying today. I’m glad we both have negative feelings towards each other. It will be a beautiful day,” you put on a fake smile, earning a grimace from Lily.

“You have been avoiding him recently,” she added with a side-glance, making you groan as you headed down the stairs to the common room.

“Can we stop talking about him for a second?” you asked, pleading with the girl.

“Fine, but I’m not giving up just yet,” shrugging, she hurried up her steps and walked out the common room, leaving you farther behind. Rolling your eyes, you heaved a heavy sigh and followed her to the Great hall.

As you sat at the Gryffindor table with Lily on your right, eating your usual morning toast, James took a seat on your other side whilst Sirius sat down beside Lily, followed by Remus and Peter across the table.

“We have a beautiful day today, don’t we?” James beamed, his unusually positive attitude making you frown. Everyone seemed to act unlike themselves and you certainly didn’t like the way they behaved.

“I guess,” you replied with a grimace. “Would have been better if Lily didn’t start my day by dancing on my nerves,” you groaned.

“I was simply stating facts,” she huffed.

“That could possibly be a definition of annoying too if we dig deeper,” you retorted.

“It’s not my fault you are hard-headed,” she rolled her eyes.

“It’s not my fault you are spreading false rumours,” you shrugged nonchalantly.

“It’s not my fault you can’t see the forest from the tree,” she grimaced.

“Woah, woah, let’s just stop it there. We have quite an intense breakfast on our hands. What do you say we just continue eating quietly?” James asked, trying to stop your bickering.

“Been doing that until you arrived with your overly-positive attitude,” you replied as you bit into your toast.

“I’m sorry for having a nice day. Instead of being gloomy, you could try it too,” he raised a questioning brow, wearing a playful smirk across his face. In normal circumstances you would have returned his smile, feeling all warm inside, feeling your cheeks flush. He had a certain vibe that always made you feel happier even if you were down. But not in that moment. It just didn’t work.

“Will take your advice into consideration,” you huffed as you stood up from the table, finishing your breakfast. “See you later,” you nodded and headed towards the exit. You barely reached the first classroom across the corridor when you heard your name being called.

Turning around you, you saw James walking towards you in a haste. “Hmm?” You hummed in a questioning tone.

“You are acting strange recently. I can’t talk to you, I barely see you and honestly, I feel like you are avoiding me,” he stated, nervously rocking from one foot to the other. Indeed, you have been trying to keep a distance from the boy, knowing he fancied Lily whilst you liked him. Since your birthday you expected some kind of sign that would lead you to your soulmate, but it never happened. No images, no scents, no touches. The person you liked for so long had a crush on someone else and when you finally thought you might have a chance to find someone to connect with, you had to release you as one of many didn’t have a soulmate.

“Look, I just prefer being alone nowadays,” you lied. Imagining a pitiful look in his eyes, knowing why you have been avoiding him was something you never wanted to see. He was always supportive, and you could always rely on him, but this time you couldn’t possibly open up to him. You didn’t want his apologetic looks.

“Seven years. It’s been seven years since we first met and almost as long since we have become friends. I think I know you fairly well. Sure, people change, so did you and I, but we have changed together, for me you are still the same person I befriended. I don’t understand why you think that I would believe you. Wanting to be alone on occasions is fine, you have always done that, but you never closed me out completely until recently. I need to know what’s going on,” he pleaded, his words, his eyes, even his tone screaming for some kind of an explanation, but you couldn’t give him what he wanted.

“I’m sorry,” you simply apologised and started walking away. Giving him an explanation would have revealed your secret and you were not ready for that. Maybe once when your feelings were finally gone and you decide to sit down to talk about the old times, being nostalgic, maybe then you would have the courage, but not in that moment.

“Sorry is not enough,” he raised his voice as he hurried after you and grabbed your wrist. The feeling of his warm palm across your skin sent shivers down your spine. Your lips parted in surprise as you felt electricity run through the spot where he held onto you, starting off your heart in a quick pace. Feeling your cheeks heat up, you turned around and looked into his brown eyes as wide as yours, trying to figure out the unusual, sudden feeling. You felt your chest compress, air stuck in your lungs as you watched the man you had feelings for being just as shocked as you were. Knowing, hoping, believing what that certain electrical feeling running through you meant, it frightened you. You never wanted to be bonded with a man who loved someone else and the simple thought of you having to watch him run after his loved one made you feel as though your heart was shattering into the smallest of pieces, where picking them and trying to mend them wasn’t an option anymore.

Both of you stood stunned, his fingers firmly around your wrist, staring at each other, wordlessly trying to communicate. It was James who recovered first and let go of your arm, leaving it to fall beside you. You wanted to speak, you wanted him to speak, but none of you knew the right words to voice. In your shocked state you just wanted to disappear, you wanted to run away. The awkward silence was making you mad and frustrated, wanting nothing but to get as far from him as possible. So, you did. You hurried off, the sound of your heavy steps following you through the corridor. Hearing James’ pleading voice to stop you didn’t seem to work, you hurried your steps, not knowing where you were heading.

“Stop!” James appeared in front of you, stepping out of a hidden door you have not seen before.

“Leave me alone, James,” you pleaded, desperately needing some time alone.

“You felt it too. I know you did, so stop running away,” he stepped in your way as you tried to walk around him. He was determined to keep you there, to talk to you, to finally stop you from avoiding him.

“Why? I felt nothing. Just get away from me,” you raised your voice, even though you have never done it before, but it didn’t work. James wasn’t giving in.

“Enough,” he raised his voice this time, but it wasn’t threatening nor aggressive, he was firm and somewhat assertive. “You can avoid me if you like, you can ignore me if that makes you feel better but telling me that you didn’t feel anything when I touched you, lying to my face, that I will not take,” he exhaled slowly. “I know you felt it too and we both know what it meant. You are not stupid and nor am I. And if you feel like pretending that it didn’t happen,” he swallowed and heaved a heavy sigh,” we can do that, I will not force you. I’m only asking you not to run away from me,” he pleaded with you.

Feeling the tears collecting in your eyes, you tried to keep them in bay, not wanting James to see you so vulnerable. A heavy sigh left your lungs as you looked up at him, locking your eyes with him. “I— I don’t know how to handle this, James. You have been in love with Lily for so long, I don’t know how to react. I don’t want to be bonded to someone who already loves someone else,” you finally voiced your thoughts, finding it hard to resist the pleading look across his face.

“I never loved Lily,” he shook his head with a deep frown. “I was in a way infatuated with her, I liked the idea of liking her, but I didn’t love her. And I don’t feel that way anymore. I haven’t even tried getting closer to her in the last couple of months. If you were here, you could have seen it, but you decided to avoid me at all cost,” his tone, his demeanour, his firm stance radiated confidence and sincerity. Indeed, you haven’t seen much of him and you couldn’t judge what happened around your friend circle recently, but it was hard to believe that after all this time he just gave up on Lily.

“Look, whether you like her or not is not my business really and you don’t owe me any explanation. Maybe in the future you will like someone else, and I will be happy for you, but we have been friends for so long, I don’t want this stupid bond to stand in your way. So, let’s just pretend it didn’t happen, alright?” you tried to compromise, but James shook his head heavily in reply and stepped closer to you.

“How can you be so silly? You and this bond will always be standing in the way of me liking someone else, because regardless of that stupid bond, it is you that I like,” he confessed, his eyes a storm of emotions. He reached for your hand, cupping them in his, squeezing yours gently. “I like you. I really do. It has nothing to do with that bond,” he swallowed nervously. You tried to respond, say something, but instead you kept opening and closing your mouth as if you were a fish out of water, gaping, finding it hard to breath. It was hard to believe, but you couldn’t deny the tiny bit of flame you felt deep within you, hope that meant you still had a chance with him.

“But why?” you exclaimed in shock, not even realising your own words. James let out a mild chuckle, your words catching him off guard.

“Because you were always there for me, because you always knew what to say to me, how to hold me, how to deal with me. Because whenever I’m around you I’m both calm and nervous at the same time. Because you make me feel like a little child, wanting to smile whenever I see you. You are beautiful of course, but regardless I feel as though there’s this pulling force between us. I didn’t realise that I liked you until you were avoiding me. And it was not because of the bond, but because I realised that you were not there beside me and I missed the smallest of details that makes you—you. Scrunching your nose, pouting, grimacing at my silly ideas, scolding me for not studying. Every single little detail that makes you— you, was just missing from my life and it was killing me. I do like you more than you can imagine with or without that stupid bond,” he replied with a lopsided smile across his face, leaning his forehead against yours.

“But Lily—” you wanted to say, but he cut you off.

“There is no Lily. There’s only you and me. I just want you to maybe give me a chance to try if we work, if this— whatever is between us works,” he pleaded and instead of a reply, you stood on your tiptoes and attached your lips to his. He was hesitant, he didn’t know what was happening, but he didn’t let his chance slip out of his hands. He let go of your hands and cupped your face for better access, devouring your lips, losing himself in the moment where it was indeed only you and him.

“I like you. I like you so much,” you breathed against his lips, stunning him. His eyes widened at your words, clearly shocked by your sudden confession.

“But you have been avoiding me,” he exclaimed.

“I couldn’t be around you. I couldn’t watch you run after Lily anymore,” you shook your head, nervously biting your lip.

“I’m so sorry for putting you through that,” he hinted a small kiss on your forehead. “I promise I will make up for it if you give me a chance.”

“Wasn’t I clear enough?” you giggled softly as you placed your hands on his, holding your face. “There is nothing I want more than to give us a chance,” you smiled, reassuring him that you wanted him just as much as he wanted you.

“Well, since we have already missed the beginning of the first class, we could start off by trying to regain the last month you have so rudely taken from me,” he raised a questioning brow, hoping you would agree.

“I guess we could skip a class after all,” you giggled softly.

“Or more than one,” he wiggled his brows as he captured your lips once again, impatiently waiting for all the memories you were to experience together.

Notes: If you enjoyed reading this little piece, please don’t forget to leave a like, comment and reblog. Your opinion matters and gives us motivation. Thank you ^^

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Taglist from now on is in a reblog.

[chilly-me-softly]

Can you write sth with Jadon, where you're both famous and rumours start coming up about him Angst with fluffy ending please

Ever since you and Jadon had been seen together and somehow made it official that you were together, the world had gone crazy. Your fans had merged into one big fandom, those who were already following you both very happy with the relationship.

And inevitably there are unfounded rumours created by misunderstandings or realities that are not true, just to attract people to this or that news and spread rumours.

With your fame you had always tried to put a certain distance from the news, whether false or true, and since you started your relationship with Jadon even more so. But this time there were photos, clear evidence. It didn't matter what the newspapers wrote, those photos were enough.

Inevitably you had confronted him, photos in hand and all wanting explanations. You didn't like being made fun of and you certainly didn't need his fame to boost your own. Your accusations were followed by a furious discussion about how you didn't trust him, how you could only think he could betray you. But the fact was that you and he were alike, both with a home in one place but always travelling for work and while you got on well with him, it all weighed so heavily.

"There are photos Jadon" you keep repeating to back up your argument as he almost pulls his hair out of his head in frustration.

"Those are nothing!" he grips the chair in front of him until his knuckles turn white before furiously pushing it away making only so much noise.

"Listen to me, I can understand how it might look seen from your point of view but I can swear to you that those pictures are old. Someone-someone must have gotten their hands on them and thought to pass them off as exclusives"

"They were taken long before we knew each other, I can swear to you that" you can see he's sincere, you can feel he's sincere and actually it wouldn't be that hard to arrange the all thing.

You let yourself go against a chair, your hands covering your face and tears finally making their way down your face. He steps closer when he hears you sob, tentatively reaching a hand out to your back.

"I can't do this, I'm sorry I can't do this"

"No hey babe, look at me" he tries to move your hands away from your face and if you were in some other situation he wouldn't hesitate to tell you how cute you look even like this, with your eyes swollen from crying and the makeup smeared on your cheeks.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry you might think I don't trust you because I don't. I don't. I love you and I don't want to be hurt" his lips are soon on yours interrupting that hysterical monologue that brings a confused expression to your face but at least it calms you down.

"I'm sorry that our lives are in the spotlight for every little thing, I can't change that. What I can do is work on us, promise to be as honest as I can and fight for us to be happy"

"I can do that too, I want to do that. For you, for us. I don't want to lose you"

"Neither do I" a smile on his face as your noses touch tenderly.

"Oh and for the record, I love you too"

[ghostadventuresstuff]

Jay Wasley x Reader

Y/N

It was safe to say that all of you knew very little about the location you were investigating. There were so many rumours about its history you didn’t know what you were walking into. But all Zak needed to know was that it was haunted by something and it would make great tv finding out what.

While Zak and Aaron set up for an interview with the owner you and Billy were tasked with setting up the cameras and equipment inside. Usually, Jay would help but due to a broken foot after being pushed down some stairs at a previous location he was banished to set up the monitors and put his foot up. During the day the house felt fine, it felt like you were being watched but no harm would come to you until the sun went down.

You walk out of the kitchen and bump into Billy who was standing frozen by the door under the stairs that led to the basement, ‘you okay Billy? Is it locked?’

Billy snaps out of his trance, ‘is it just me who gets a bad vibe from whatever's on the other side of the door y/n?’

You put your hand on the handle and chills run down your spine but nothing too intense, ‘just a bit cold. Zak wants cameras in the basement as it’s the first time the owner is letting anyone down there since they started renovations. I’ll go down if you’re scared Billy,’ you joke.

‘Thank you y/n,’ Billy replies and hands you two cameras.

You roll your eyes, ‘you do know Zak will send you down there later alone when he finds out it makes you nervous. Stay guard at the top in case I need any help and your secret is safe with me.’

Billy nods and steps back as you open the basement door, a musty smell hitting your nostrils making you gag a little. You turn on a flashlight and begin the trek down into the darkness.

JAY

I had to get some extra cables from the van for the monitors, but pause as I walk by Zak interviewing the owner, and what he says next chills me to the bone.

‘Be careful of the basement, when we were ripping up the floor we found someone had carved a summoning circle in the middle of the room. We all get bad vibes going down there alone.’

I hobble into the tent and find Billy standing by the basement door with y/n nowhere in sight on the monitors. I grab a walkie-talkie, and when I try to contact y/n I get no response and a bunch of static. So I tune into Billy’s instead.

‘Billy, It’s Jay, have you seen y/n?’

‘In the basement, why?’ Billy responds, voice crackling over the walkie talkie.

In the corner of my eye, I see a monitor come to life and y/n appears on screen trying to angle a camera in the basement.

‘Billy get y/n out of there, there’s a dangerous summoning circle the owner said!’

I watch the monitor as Billy tries and fails to open the basement door, ‘err Jay it’s stuck. I’ll try and bang to get y/n’s attention.’

‘Jay, what is going on? Why is Billy shouting in the house?’ Zak demands entering the tent with Aaron behind him.

‘y/n went down to the basement to put cameras up before I heard about the circle, I can’t reach them on the walkie talkie and now Billy says the door won’t open,’ I reply, words coming out fast because I was worried about y/n.

‘Look, Billy must have gotten y/n’s attention,’ Aaron says, pointing at the monitor before his eyes widen, ‘oh shit! There’s something behind y/n.’

Just then the camera feed dies and worry turns to dread. We needed to get y/n out of the basement. Zak and Aaron run out of the tent leaving me to hobble behind on crutches. When y/n first joined the crew they got trapped in a basement by an evil entity and didn’t have a good experience until Aaron was able to break the door down. The incident freaked y/n out but they bounced back stronger, I prayed we didn’t have a repeat as none of us knew what lurked around inside the house.

By the time I get inside the house, Aaron and Zak are taking turns to ram the door while Billy paces.

‘How’s y/n?’ I ask out loud.

Billy stops pacing, ‘something spooked y/n and I can tell they are trying to keep calm to not feed whatever's down there their fear.’

Zak goes to ram the door and to everyone’s surprise, it simply swings open on its own. That was pretty freaky. y/n walks out looking pale and a little shaken.

‘I really don’t have a good track record with basements do I?’ They joke, trying to lighten the mood.

‘Good to see you’re okay y/n, we captured a shadow behind you,’ Zak explains.

y/n nods and makes their way over to me, ‘I guess it lulled me in with a false sense of security because I didn’t feel anything negative like Billy did. Have fun in the basement tonight guys because no way in hell am I going back down there.’

Zak, Aaron and Billy cautiously make their way into the basement leaving y/n and I alone. I hug y/n with one arm and they chuckle before pulling something out from beneath their jumper. I’d gotten everyone blessed pendants which only I and y/n seemed to wear for safety and protection.

‘I’m never taking this off Jay, thank you.’

I smile, ‘at least I know one of you listens to me. Now let's get back to nerve and watch the three of them freak out.’

y/n matches my smile and the two of us leave the house, hoping neither of us had to step foot in there till morning.

[highfaelucien]

Heyy

90. Dance for Rhycien?

Please send me whump Prompts

(Heck yes, it's time for The Gay. Have some Under the Mountain Angst. Slight warning for mind control/influence (Rhys to Lucien) It's short-lived, demanded by Amarantha, and doesn't last long)

Old Time's Sake

"Ah, Lucien, nice of you to finally join us," Amarantha drawled from her place upon the carved throne, sitting above the writhing fae bodies, watching with that grim pleasure Rhys had come to loathe so intensely.

Turning, he spotted Lucien, long red hair gleaming in the dancing faelight, barely concealed loathing etched in every line of his angular face.

The exiled Autumn prince hadn't been seen for several days now. Not since the brutal whipping at Tamlin's hand that had left him unconscious and, if rumours were to be believed, near death.

From the look of spite in Lucien's remaining eye, it seemed he had spat in death's face for the simple pleasure of being able to glare at Amarantha once more.

"You're looking a little grim there, princeling," Amarantha crooned, "Why don't you join your little human friend? Dance with her."

She gestured towards Feyre, who had drunk the wine Rhys had provided her and accompanied him to the dance as he did each night. Her body moved with surprising grace, considering she was human.

A muscle feathered in Lucien's jaw as he watched Feyre. He turned that simmering hatred on Rhys instead, fire blazing in that russet eye. Rhys just smirked at him and winked. Lucien's hands balled themselves into fists at his sides.

It was clearly an effort for him to project even a facade of civility as he turned his gaze back to Amarantha and said, "I fear my skills are not equal to those already here. I wouldn't like to offend you with my display, lady."

Amarantha tapped one sharpened nail on the arm of her throne. Few caught the suppressed flinch in Lucien's body at the sight of it, but Rhys saw, and looked away, disgusted.

"You will offend me deeply if you refuse me again, Lucien," she said, voice soft and dangerous now.

"I'm sure we both know how much I'd hate to do that," Lucien growled, and Rhys found himself closing his eyes.

Lucien never had learned to keep his mouth shut. There seemed to be some self-destructive part of him that enjoyed snapping at those who could snap him in half with a wink.

Silence enveloped the hall for a few, pounding heartbeats. Then Amarantha turned her head sharply, all the false air of a pleasant queen amongst her court banished.

"Rhysand," she said, darkly, "Make him dance for me."

"It would of course be my pleasure," Rhys said smoothly, nudging Feyre to one side and rising from the plump cushions he'd been reclining on, keeping an eye on her as she reveled blindly.

Lucien turned to him, his jaw set, his eyes hard. There was no fear in those eyes. Many here underestimated Lucien, as he didn't possess the same power as his father or brothers. Rhys thought they were fools. It took an extraordinary level of strength and courage to face him that way. Not to mention his return here in the first place.

"Little Lucien," he clucked, aloud, shaking his head, "You know it's not polite to refuse a lady."

Inside his head, he murmured, I'm sorry.

Lucien's eyes flashed, almost giving him away with his moment of confusion. Then Rhys swept away his will, and forced him to perform for Amarantha. Just as he was forced to perform for her.

At once, Lucien's face contorted with pain. He shouldn't have come here tonight. Tamlin had no doubt ordered him, the cowardly bastard, unwilling to come himself to see Feyre. Lucien's magic had been suppressed, and he had been denied any kind of healer. His body had been forced to heal at the rate of a human.

It didn’t take long for the wounds to re-open, blood staining the handsome tunic Lucien wore.

Amarantha underestimated Lucien, too. Rhys could sense he would refuse to give out until this killed him, just to spite the bitch. But she wouldn’t know that. Once Lucien was breathing heavily, and finally cracked to let out a whimper of pain, Rhys enveloped his mind in darkness and allowed him to slump to the floor, unconscious.

“Pathetic,” Amarantha hissed, as Lucien’s brothers, clustered around her throne as usual, sniggered and jeered their approval.

She waved a dismissive hand at Rhys, “Get him out of my sight,” she commanded, already bored, turning away to watch Feyre with amusement.

“At once, lady,” Rhys said.

Snapping his fingers, he lifted Lucien’s limp form into the air then carried him down to the cells, where he would return Feyre to in a few hours.

Setting him down far more gently than he would have dared to under Amarantha’s watchful gaze, Rhys gazed down at the fae male he had almost let himself love, once upon a time.

His fingers traced the scar over his eye with sadness. Then gently unbuttoned the blood-stained, ruined tunic, and examined the mess of his back. Torn, raw flesh, weeping fresh blood once more after Amarantha’s forced dancing.

It would have been worse if you hadn’t put a stop to it when you did, he tried to tell himself. Anger flared as another thought crept into his mind, And it would have been a lot better if Tamlin hadn’t sent him to that fucking party.

The High Lord of Spring had to know how much Amarantha enjoyed using Lucien as her plaything. Torturing him was becoming something she enjoyed almost as much as she enjoyed torturing him.

Sighing, Rhys reached out a hand, magic flaring, but-

Slim, hot fingers wrapped around his wrist, surprising him, which was impressive in itself.

Lucien, remarkably, had fought his way back to consciousness.

Stupid, stubborn bastard, Rhys thought, with fondness.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Lucien demanded, spitting blood from a bitten tongue out of his mouth at Rhys’s knees.

“That’s really no way to speak to a High Lord of Prythian, Lucien,” Rhys said, tutting, “I see you haven’t improved your manners since last we met.”

“I see you haven’t stopped being a prick, either,” Lucien shot back, weakly.

“I’m overwhelmed by your wit,” Rhys said sardonically.

“Fuck off and let me bleed, Rhys,” Lucien muttered thickly, body starting to tremble with the pain.

“Is that what Tamlin would do?” Rhys asked, unable to stop himself picking at that old wound between them.

A muscle feathered in Lucien’s jaw, but for once he restrained himself from answering. Perhaps Amarantha’s eye gouging had changed him, after all.

“No,” Rhys continued, folding his arms across his chest, “No, Tamlin doesn’t even know your bleeding out down here for his foolish command. Or, more appropriately, he doesn’t care.”

“Shut your fucking mouth,” Lucien snapped, some of that fire flaring in his remaining eye again.

Rhys still wasn’t used to the mechanical one. He’d spent a long time, previously, getting lost in that blazing gaze before. It wasn’t the same now.

Rhys tutted idly, rocking back on his heels, peering down at Lucien, “He doesn’t deserve your loyalty, you know.”

“And you do?” Lucien shot back, an awful disdain twisting his face.

Rhys’s jaw tightened, “I didn’t say that,” he said, smoothly.

Lucien laughed bitterly, even though it made him convulse with pain, “You meant it, though.”

He rolled onto his side, snarling with pain as he did, so that he could look Rhys full in the face as he spoke. Lucien had always been far too skilled at reading him, and he looked away, unable to bear that burning gaze.

“He didn’t deserve the sacrifice you made to stay with him,” Rhys breathed.

“Sacrifice?” Lucien repeated, “You mean you?” He laughed, the sound raw and humourless, echoing in the cavernous cell around them. It degenerated to coughing before long. “I owed him. I still do. He saved my life. He took me in after Jes. I pledged my fealty to him. You thought I’d turn away from that for your fucking dick?”

Rhys met his furious gaze once more as he said, softly, “I thought you might have turned away from it for the chance at happiness.” He rose to his feet, staring down at Lucien, something tightening within him, “But you could never let yourself have that, could you? It’s always been your most fatal flaw, Lucien. You don’t know how to let yourself be happy.”

“And you do?”he shot back.

“I could have learned,” Rhys said, very quietly, and he knew Lucien felt the sincerity in it, “For you.”

That actually shut Lucien up, for once. The only times he’d managed to achieve that before had been with decidedly more creative applications of his tongue.

“Don’t return to the party tonight,” he said, “I’ll be back here in a few hours with Feyre, and you can visit her yourself. Lie there and try not to drown in your own blood until then, won’t you?”

He turned, cloak covering Lucien in black for a moment, before pulling away, leaving him trembling on the cold stone floor.

Despite the anger that pulsed in his chest, he couldn’t leave him like that. He waved an idle finger, and Lucien’s wounds sealed themselves. Not fully. Not enough to leave Amarantha suspicious, but enough to ease his agony for now.

Lucien blinked and sat up as Rhys turned away again.

“What will she do to you if she learns of this?” he asked, very quietly.

Rhys forced himself to smile, “I doubt she’ll think of anything new. She’s not particularly creative, you know.”

“It’s still a risk,” Lucien said, gazing at him with suspicion, as if he expected some bargain, some demand for recompense.

Rhys shrugged in response, “Perhaps I think it’s worth it.”

“Why the fuck would you think that?” Lucien asked, sounding genuinely, heartbreakingly, bemused.

“Maybe I think you’re worth it,” Rhys said, more softly still.

Lucien eyed him for a long moment, pregnant with heavy silence, words they’d never spoken to one another echoing up through the lonely decades they’d spent apart.

“I’ll never understand you, Rhys,” he muttered finally, shaking his head.

“Isn’t that part of my enigmatic mystique and irresistible air?” he replied slyly.

Lucien smirked at that, “Enigmatic ego and insufferable ass, more like.”

“You found my ass quite sufferable, if memory serves,” Rhys smirked.

Lucien grinned. For a moment they weren’t trapped in this foul pit of a place. They were on the borders of Spring, Lucien’s mouth hot and insistent against his, fingers roaming beneath dark Illyrian leathers with surprising knowledge of buckle placement.

“Thank you,” Lucien said, a little too stiffly.

“I do believe that might have caused you more pain than the whipping,” Rhys quipped.

“It certainly is now, with you gloating in my face,” Lucien scowled in response.

“Take care, Little Lucien,” Rhys said, waving an idle hand back towards him as he moved to the door of the cell.

“And you, Rhys,” Lucien said, very quietly.

There was such emotion in that deep russet eye of his, that Rhys forced himself to winnow back to the party, before he did something incredibly stupid. Like kissing him.

***

Thanks for the prompt!! I hope you liked it!

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Lucien’s R&S - Regarding what books don’t say (Eng Translation)

🍒This R&S (关于书上没说的事) was part of the Dream Heart Lake event which will unlikely come to EN!🍒

A character featured in @lucienism‘s translation of his 2020 birthday event is introduced here!

More Lucien R&S from this event:

> regarding what books don’t say ♡

> my love rival older brother

> the victim who disappeared

> since that rainy night

[ Chapter One ]

Everybody knows that there’s an especially intelligent child in the neighbourhood.

His parents are both high-ranking scientific researchers. Although husband and wife have always kept a low-profile, quite a lot of rumours involving their child still flowed into the streets - He knew over ten thousand words at the age of one, read “The Brief History of Time” at the age of three, and could already engage in scientific research with his parents at the age of five.

As for how much of it is true or false, the neighbours didn’t delve too deeply into it. They just needed “someone else’s child” as an example to enhance the persuasive effect when dealing with their own children. “Brat, could you stop making me worry! Just look at that little genius next door. He already knows how to read books obediently at the age of five!”

As time passed, the children developed a strong resistance towards this little genius who rarely showed himself.

Unlike what their parents hoped, they didn’t see him as a role model for studying. Instead, they chose the naive and cruel method to express their unhappiness which had accumulated over the years.

-

[ Chapter Two ]

To the children, “isolation” is an extreme punishment. However, this didn’t have much of an effect on the little genius. He has always holed himself up in the study room, immersing himself in scientific materials which even normal adults find cryptic and difficult to understand. After classes in the afternoon, he would occasionally hear the clamour of playing, and would close his book temporarily, laying on the window sill to take a look. 

He can easily explain how the human mind operates, but is unable to understand why the boys in the yard enjoy running after a ball. Each time he sees them running themselves into a sweat-drenched state and yet able to laugh heartily, he remains puzzled despite pondering over it for a long time.

Although he has considered directly asking the children in the yard for their reasons, he can detect the alienation in their eyes even from afar.

It’s as though they are magnets with the same poles. Even if he tried taking a step closer to them, they would naturally take a step further. This caused him to gradually feel that even though he was a human being like them, there were also some slight differences.

Since he couldn’t quell his bewilderment through a survey sample, he had no choice but to have a hands-on experience. As such, he, who rarely brings up wanting anything, asked his father for a small soccer ball.

Seeing his son take the initiative to ask for a toy for the first time, his father agreed immediately. He even completed his work on hand early, and specially took a half-day leave to accompany his son to play in the grass patch in the park.

In the midst of the pleasantly warm summer breeze, father and son have a few exchanges. However, aside from “hot” and “tired”, the boy didn’t obtain more helpful information.

He lifts up the strands of hair on his forehead, which have been drenched with sweat He trots over to his father’s side, tugging onto his sleeve.

“Dad, are you tired? Why don’t we go home?”

His father crouches down, taking out a handkerchief and wiping his son’s sweat, thinking he was saying he was tired because he typically lacks exercise.

“Mm? Are you tired? In that case, should we take a break before continuing?”

The boy shakes his head, returning the small soccer ball to his father.

“Dad, is this the wrong playing method? Why do other kids look especially happy when they play this?”

In response to his son’s dead serious question, his extremely knowledgeable father actually couldn’t find an answer.

Because of how busy work is at the research centre, he and his wife are mostly able to only meet their son’s material needs. Giving him necessary company completely exhausts their limited free time.

Those books don’t mention the things they don’t have time to teach him. The things that are crucial for “normal kids” have been neglected without realising it--

For instance, “friends”. For instance, “friendship”.

“The next time you want to play with the little soccer ball, you can bring it up to the kids in yard.”

“Mm.” The boy nods, not telling his father about the icy look in the eyes of the other kids. He holds his dad’s hand tightly, and they return to the yard.

-

[ Chapter Three ]

That brand new little soccer ball never appeared again since that day, and nobody knew where he hid it. Even so, every time after school ended, he would still gaze towards the clamour occasionally.

Sometimes, the little soccer ball belonging to the kids would fall into the courtyard of his home. But every time he returned the little soccer ball to them, the kids would turn around and run away without even a word of thanks.

The boy didn’t harbour much unhappiness towards the way the kids treated him, but didn’t expect that a “busybody” neighbour would seek justice on his behalf.

-

“Hey, you guys! You don’t know how to say ‘thank you’?!” A tall and towering neighbour appears before the kids, looking as though he’s about to chase them down. While calling him “Stupid Policeman”, they scatter.

With sharp eyes and agile movements, he grabs the kid who took the ball. Grabbing him by the collar, he brings the kid to the boy. “Okay. Where’s the ‘thank you’?”

The kid who was grabbed unwillingly says a ‘thank you’. The boy, face expressionless, responds with a “You’re welcome”.

Without sensing anything out of the ordinary, the man releases his hold the kid. Even without taking a few steps, he turns around to pull his face into a mocking scowl.

“Stupid Police Uncle, he’s scowling at you.” Upon hearing this, the man chases him once again. Seeing the kid fleeing in fear, the little genius actually feels like his pent-up feelings have been released.

After the kids run out of the yard, the man returns. He shouts after the boy who is just about to walk into the house. “Hey, Boy! You don’t have anyone to play with? Want to come over to my house to play?”

“No need. Thank you, Uncle.” With this straightforward response, the boy returns into the house. With a remark reminiscent of a human trafficker, he decides that he should not entangle himself too much with this adult. 

Ignoring the rejection, the man crosses the fence, stopping the closing door with his hands. “Brother is very good at playing games! Anything you want to play is fine. If you want to learn anything, I’ll teach you till you know it. I’ll keep you company!”

“Uncle, there’s really no need.” The boy hides behind the half-closed door. This is the first time he's met an adult who is so difficult to shake off.

“Come to think of it! You’ve been calling me ‘Uncle’ since just now!” He rubs his head in an exaggerated manner, the main point of his words digressing to strange places. “Do I look that old! Just call me “Brother”. Come, repeat after me. “Brother Zihang’.”

“... Brother Zihang.”

“That’s right, that’s it! Remember it!”

“Okay, Brother Zihang. I’ve remembered it, Brother Zihang. May I know if I could close the door now, Brother Zihang?”

"You won’t be able to grow tall if you keep holing yourself up at home!”

Hearing this, the boy finally wavers. He releases his hold on the door slightly. “In that case, we’ll just play one round of international chess.”

“Can’t you play something more suitable for kids?!” Despite what Fan Zihang says, he elatedly brings the boy towards his house next door.

-

[ Chapter Four ]

This is the first time the boy has been invited to someone else’s home. Although he wanted to pretend that it wasn’t something new, his wandering gaze had already betrayed him--

Although there’s a huge difference between the entranceway and decor of the living room as compared to his house, the overall getup is still similar. The most shocking thing to him is Fan Zihang’s room. It’s basically a disaster scene left behind after a dinosaur stepped on it.

Fan Zihang doesn’t seem to mind at all. With a normal expression, he steps through the piles of various objects on the floor, towards the side of the bed. Sticking his butt in the air, he searches underneath the bed. 

“First things first. Even if my opponent is a kid, I'm not going to give any chances. Also, if you’ve finished looking around, give me a hand in searching for it.”

The boy stands on his tiptoes, bypassing the scattered objects. With a face full of curiosity, he asks, “Do you really have a chess board here? Actually, I could head home to get it.”

“Don’t worry, don’t worry. I’m certain it’s here!” Fan Zihang says in a completely unpersuasive manner. He searches the bottom of his bed, which appears to be a black hole. Seeing his persistence, the boy has no choice but to provide assistance from the side, helping him tidy up the pile of items which have been unearthed.

After a very long time, Fan Zihang finally finds the chess board. As excited as a child, he exclaims, “I’ve found it!”

His cry is accompanied by the sound of his head banging against the board of the bed. Covering his head, he crawls out from underneath the bed with the chess board. In the process of arranging the chess pieces, they discover that the black king chess piece has disappeared.

“I’ll go home and get mine.”

Just as the boy prepares to stand up, the not-like-an-adult-at-all neighbour stops him. He opens a box of small bear biscuits. Picking a whole one, he places it on the position where the black king is supposed to be. “With this, it’d be fine!”

This is probably the most abnormal chess piece the boy has ever seen. In less than ten minutes, he wins this game of “Small Bear International Chess”.

“Oh my goodness! You’re too strong! No wonder nobody wants to play with you!” Fan Zihang plops the “black king”, which the boy was about to checkmate, into his mouth. As though he’s taking revenge, he munches it with force.

“So why did Big Brother want to play with me?” The boy looks at the neighbour, who is propping his leg up without a care about his image. At the same time, he starts packing up the chess pieces.

He taps the boy’s temple, stuffing a small bear biscuit into his hand. “Because you looked too pitiful just now. When you were standing at the door earlier, you looked like you were about to cry.”

“I... I wasn’t...” His tone evidently weakens. Originally staring straight at the other party, he slowly averts his gaze. At a glance, it’s clear that he’s pretending to be courageous.

Fan Zihang didn’t expect that this kid, who appears so gentle and quiet, to have a pretty stubborn streak. He can’t help but be mischievous. He leans in front of the boy. “If you play another round with me, I won’t tell others that you were about to cry!”

“I already said that I wasn’t crying!”

Although that’s what the boy argues, he has been goaded successfully. He takes out a small bear biscuit and places it on the black king’s position, the calm little adult image completely tossed to the back of his mind.

“Very good, very good. You’ve got a fighting spirit. This time, I won’t show any mercy either.” Seeing that the boy has regained his vigour, Fan Zihang feels gratified, patting his head.

“You’re obviously very weak.”

The boy takes the lead with a white chess piece, ridiculing him unreservedly.

“This is an average standard, okay! You’re obviously the one who’s too strong! Kids like you would have been brought to take part in ‘The World’s Greatest Mind’!”

While joking, Fan Zihang also follows closely behind. His style of chess is free and laid-back. Or rather, he does it recklessly.

“You’ll be checkmated very quickly again like this.”

“So what? It’s chess - being happy is what’s most important!”

A cool breeze blows by slowly. The clamour outside the windows remain. But between the two of them, there seems to be the occasional sound of descending chess pieces, mixed with the sounds of scattered munching.

-

[ Chapter Five ]

Since that day, the genius boy became a regular visitor of the house of that Stupid Police Officer.

Fan Zihang continued getting off work early each day, and would bring the neighbouring boy along before heading home. His mother would sometimes criticise him for playing with a little kid at his age. But she’s extremely affable towards the boy, and would leave a serving of whatever delicious dim sum there is for him.

They would sit together and eat the dim sum, play games, and be pretty friendly with each other. No matter what the topic starts with, their conversation would always return to the same conclusion.

“Just look at yourself. Loafing around at this age.”

“Mum, it’s a good thing that my position is idle! It proves that there’s justice in the world, and that the civilians are safe.”

Aunt Liu doesn’t listen to such glib words. The more he says such things, the more worried she gets. With such a silly son, she’s worried that even by the time she gets old, he wouldn’t be able to settle down and form a good family. 

Evident from the facts, Murphy’s Law does exist. The more worried a person is about something, the more it will happen. 

Take for example, this particular evening. Fan Zihang, reeking of alcohol, walks into the residential area. His eyes are red, and one can’t tell if it’s due to crying or from being drunk.

Just a few hours earlier, he received a text during work from a girl he had been dating for several years. The contents of the message were brief and to the point - she wanted to break up with him. He was so frantic that he kept making calls, but even till his phone shut off from a lack of battery, he couldn’t contact the girlfriend who had suddenly bid him farewell.

Intoxicated, he supports himself on the wall and walks forward. Because he can’t find his keys, he starts pressing on the doorbell frenetically.

After a consecutive stream of ringing from the doorbell, the door finally opens.

The person who comes out is a boy whose face is full of distaste.

“Hm? Why is it you?” Only now does Fan Zihang realise that he had walked to the wrong door. He decides to give up on himself, squatting down and giving him a hug. With snot and tears running down his face, he relates his own tale of tragedy. “Boy, what do you think! Brother is so tall and handsome. Why would he get dumped!”

The boy is about to faint from the smell of alcohol. Even though he pushes and beats him, struggling violently in his arms, he isn’t able to twist out of the other party’s brute force. In order to escape as soon as possible, he ponders for a moment, thinking that it’s best to answer his question honestly.

“Truthfully speaking, I think it’s nothing strange for someone like you - who refuses to admit defeat even when playing games with kids - to get dumped.

“What I need right now is comfort! Are there bad friends like you out there?!” Fan Zihang lifts his tear-stained face, facing the boy. But the boy grasps the only important point in his words.

“We’re friends?” The boy’s question is particularly sincere, adding another blow to Fan Zihang’s hurt feelings.

“Boy, you really lack a conscience!! If we weren’t friends, would I accompany you to play chess every day and be easily defeated by you!”

The boy is suddenly enlightened, and the look in his eyes brighten. He says softly, “So friends share such a relationship?”

“Boy, the main points you get are really off the mark...” Seeing the boy look as though he just resolved a difficult problem boggling the century, Fan Zihang can’t help but laugh. The gloomy and dismal clouds hanging above him have more or less dissipated without him realising it.

“This counts as an honour to you, Boy. Your first friend is me, an amazing criminal police officer!”

“Mm, a useless adult who weeps to a kid after getting dumped by his girlfriend.” Over the course of their interactions, his refined and polite appearance has long since disappeared. He would even bicker to no end with Fan Zihang.

“You really aren’t cute at all sometimes! How can a person mature without experiencing some blood and tears!” Fan Zihang rubs his fuzzy little head roughly, filled with anticipation for his future. “Whether it’s you or me, there will come a day when we become very amazing people!”

He knows that their paths have conveyed only temporarily. He knows the two of them will eventually walk down completely different life paths.

But at the very least, at this present moment, they can cry and smile, smile and cry, supporting each other. 

[obiwanobi]

(listen, sometimes Senator Kenobi only has to walk in a room and raise an eyebrow at Anakin for him to get all hot and bothered, so you know it’s not even a question of how sexy Obi-wan is but just an inherent reaction to Obi-wan’s presence now)

If I could write, you can be sure that this Senator Kenobi AU would be a 50k+ fic split between a long and dramatic slow burn filled with grand declarations of love (from Anakin) and a political satire where I would get a kick out of writing about incompetent politicians, bad decisions and egocentric maniacs on all sides, Padmé telling people to get their shit together and not ruin the Republic for everyone, Bail slowly taking charge of Palpatine’s opposition party one sarcastic comment at a time, and an acerbic Obi-wan too busy trying to rally people to his cause and keep a low profile after the media spread false rumours about his connection to the Jedi Order to remember to say ‘no’ to Anakin once in a while.

But I can’t, so let me tell you a bit more about how Anakin and Obi-wan got married! (It was a bit long, so you’ve got 1k of this AU under the cut)

I do like to think that they did get ‘secretly’ married. Not at the end of aotc, but years later at the end of the clone wars. I want a LOT of drama around it, because Palpatine is still around in this AU and Obi-wan is in the Delegation of 2000 with Bail, Padmé and Mon, to make sure that Palpatine returns his emergency power to the Senate and to repeal the Sector Governance Decree, which would make most senators, like Obi-wan, from far away or small or poor planets, useless.

During a meeting, Obi-wan makes the mistake of talking about involving the Jedi Council, and he can feel in the Force the moment he mentions it that the delegation gets a bit more restless, probably remembering his own connection to the Jedi Order. The Delegation doesn’t fully trust the Jedi, and by extension isn’t totally comfortable with Obi-wan, who is known to be one of their strongest supporters.

However, like a lot of members of the delegation, Obi-wan is convinced that something is not right with the Chancellor, and the feeling is getting stronger every time he hears Palpatine’s words in Anakin’s mouth. It always leads to them arguing, even if Anakin in this AU is more inclined to do some critical thinking once in a while when he remembers all the philosophy and politics lessons Obi-wan gave him. But Palpatine’s influence on him is still strong, and even Master Jinn comes to Obi-wan with a worried look (to Obi-wan. With a worried look. Master Jinn.) to ask about Anakin’s state of mind. They don’t see eye to eye on many subjects, Master Jinn has more than one time reiterated his opinion on Obi-wan’s presence in Anakin’s life, but this time is different. Master Jinn seems more than a few klicks away from his usual composed expression, and when he goes as far as mentioning private Jedi business, like the last heated discussions between Anakin and the Council, Obi-wan feels more than unsettled.

Jinn didn’t ask him for any help per se, but an impromptu visit from the Jedi Master that doesn’t end with them disagreeing on pretty much everything is enough to raise all the alarms in his mind. His concerns should be about the state of the alliance between republican forces and the Order, the trust of the public and the unrestrained power the Chancellor seems to get from it, but one thing pushes most of his worries to the back of his mind. Obi-wan has always been ready to make concessions. Anakin is just not one of them. He knows that he has to keep Anakin away from the political scene or getting irritated enough at the Council to make rash decisions for some time. And he knows exactly how.

At this point, Obi-wan has always declined Anakin’s MANY marriage proposals, but each time he says no, it’s just a little less firm and a little more reluctant. Anakin has that light in his eyes when he asks, the glimmer of solid hope that simply doesn’t want to leave Obi-wan’s mind when he’s hiding behind excuses after excuses to not look at Anakin’s resigned smile. It almost feels… wrong now, to push a ‘no’ out of his mouth, burning his tongue and crashing against his teeth.    

The last time he proposed, Anakin got down on one knee in the middle of the Senate Plaza, smiling like he knew exactly what he was doing, and refused to get up again before getting an answer, despite Obi-wan’s indignant pleas to please stop making a scene! He laughed like a delighted idiot when Obi-wan almost had to carry him to a more secluded street, amusing passers-by and fueling the gossip media for some time, surely. Obi-wan really wanted to throttle the idiot, but the untainted joy on his face was so rare since Ahsoka left the Order that Obi-wan let him get away with it with a bruising kiss and the promise of the opposite of a punishment. Distracted, Anakin didn’t realise that Obi-wan didn’t give any answer.  

A few days later, a rare occasion where Anakin doesn’t have to be anywhere and elects to spend his free afternoon bothering Obi-wan, he asks again. It’s the most childish thing Obi-wan has ever seen a grown man do: Anakin is spread out on the couch, poking at Obi-wan’s shoulder who’s not paying enough attention to him and repeating in a bored tone “Mary me. Mary me. Mary me.”

And really, Obi-wan is tired. So tired that he can barely focus on the words he’s reading (does he need glasses? He hopes not, Anakin would never let him live it down). Tired of having to explain that replacing senators by sector governors isn’t the right thing to do, tired of hearing that Padmé and Bail doing their best is just not enough when faced with bigotry and egotism, tired of critics about how turning Jedi into Generals was a mistake from people who put them in this position in the first place. Tired of worrying that one day Anakin isn’t going to spend his free time with a soon-to-be useless politician who doesn’t even have the time to properly say hello to the only person he’s still happy to see entering his office.

Obi-wan suddenly grips Anakin’s fingers pressed to his shoulder.

What difference will it make? They’re already more married than most couples anyway. Hell, he calls Anakin more than Bail calls Breha when he’s deployed.

He catches the surprise in Anakin’s eyes.

He’s going to do something stupid. Anakin level of stupid. It’s selfish and unbecoming of a Jedi and a Senator. If it doesn’t stay secret (and Obi-wan knows that it’s probably just a question of time) it’s going to be an utter mess, a political disaster, a complete disregard of the Jedi code.  

Anakin reaches in the Force for him and Obi-wan remembers that he has never wanted to say no to him.

“No great ceremony. No long and painfully detailed monologue about my eyes, my hair or my butt, and please, no over-the-top romantic decorations or I’ll make you marry me on a sandy beach.”

It takes at least fifteen seconds for the words to reach Anakin’s brain. When it does, he tries to sit up too fast, falls from the couch, bumps his head against the table, grips Obi-wan’s leg to push himself up, shove the datapad in his hands away and stares at Obi-wan while stuttering incoherent monosyllables. He looks so lost and charming and perfect that Obi-wan is certain that he will never regret the most ill-advised decision he has ever made in his life.

[realcube]

the heart || kei tsukishima x reader

 summary: modern au! you and tsukishima are supposed to dissect a lamb heart in biology but it doesn’t go to plan

tw// cussing, the dissection of a lamb heart, blood, biology 🤢

my excuse: this is based on a true story and i wrote it at like 3am - read at your own expense. this is probably the worst piece i’ve every written.

“Geez, why are you complaining? You literally just play Cool Maths Games during every period of Biology and now that we actually have to do something you become a whiny bitch.” Tsukishima clicked his tongue, slipping his phone back into his pocket while adjusting his headphones so they hung around his neck, rather than having to take them off because they were apart of his look at this point.

You tossed your head back upon hearing the news that you’d actually have to do something in class for a change, “Exactly! Biology is supposed to be the one class where I am not bombarded with work. Just last period, I drew at least fifty stupid fucking graphs! For what? To find x? To hell with your x !” You cried, running a hand through your hair to make sure you didn’t mess it up because you spent way too long straightening it this morning for a swift movement of your neck to mess it all up. 

Tsukishima sighed, hesitantly rubbing your back as you genuinely seemed quite stressed, “It’ll be fine, and it’s not like we’re learning anything new. We have already studied the heart, I think it was last year; we’re only doing the experiment now because we couldn’t to do it last year for some reason.” Tsukishima mumbled, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he noticed that he was doing a decent job of reassuring you as your hair was no long standing on its ends. 

“Plus,” He said, flicking his pencil with his fingers, “This’ll be cool! The heart is quite an interesting organ, it’ll be fun to actually get hands-on and see the chambers and valves up close, don’t you think?” He added, seeming a bit too enthusiastic about dissecting a lamb heart - it was kinda creepy.

After you finished loudly judging him, you pulled out your phone from your pocket and absently went to snapchat, to send your streaks. “Yeah, whatever. Get in ‘ere with me Tsukishima, will you?” It was hardly a request as before he even had time to process what you had just asked him, you had taken a selfie of you and him with the indie filter, wrote ‘streaks’ on it and sent it to your whole best friend’s list. 

It took him a moment to react to what you just did but when he noticed you typing away to your friend, he let out a breathy sigh. Usually, he’d be fuming by your action but he had to admit, he looked pretty good in that picture - especially because he barely had any nice candid photos of himself. “Send that to me - but without the stupid caption.” Was all he could be bothered to utter.

You hummed in agreement, “Will do.” You replied, immediately finding the photo in your saved pictures and scrolling down your friends list until you found Tsukishima; he wasn’t too low down since you recently asked him for the answers to the Maths homework - he said no, of course, but it was worth a shot.

“I’m feeling kinda bummed so y’know what I am gonna do?” You spoke and without giving Tsukishima a moment to respond, you answered your own question. “Check your Snapchat username, it always makes him laugh.”

Tsukishima’s blood ran cold and his eyes widened at the mention of his username on Snapchat, “(Y/N). Do not--”

“Dinoguykei!” You exclaimed rather loudly, tears of joy pricking at the corners of your eyes as you cackled upon repeating his username to yourself - absolute gold.

“I was, like, 11 when I made it! Give me a break.” He spat, sticking out his bottom lip momentarily before pulling his headphones back over his head to clasp his ears so he no longer had to listen to your ‘annoying-ass laugh’, as he called it. There was clearly no music playing from his headphones and he acted as if he couldn’t hear you when he had them on despite the fact that they were clearly not noise-cancelling - this was a move he pulled often which you liked to call ‘blocking out the a haters’ as he would do that exact thing whenever you said something to displease him..

“Really?” You raised an eyebrow, flicking his fake-ass SOMY headphones but since they were made of wurtzite boron nitride or something like that, they hit you right back, resulting in your hissing and quickly pulling your hand away. “Do you think that your crusty, dollar store headphones can prevent my noise from reaching your ears? I think the fuck not.” 

“I-”

“If you want me to buy you new ones, just ask. How much were they? Or are they hend-me-downs?” You inquired without missing a beat, it wasn’t often that you managed to tease Tsukishima which such flow consecutively so you were obviously going to make to most of this opportunity while you had it.

“They are from the dollar store but I didn’t buy them.” Tsukishima mumbled but loud enough for you to hear, he lowered his head and desperately tried to resist the sly grin which tugged at the corners of his lips as all the memories came flooding back to him. “You were there, weren’t you?” 

“No.” You replied simply but immediately realising what Tsukishima was talking about and leaning in closer to him, “Is Tsukki a criminal?” You sung while wiggling your eyebrow playfully at him. 

Tsukishima scoffed, once again lowering his headphones from his ears back down to his neck. “As if you aren’t, with all the stuff you stole from the supermarket.” He hissed while trying not to laugh as he recalled the time you tried to sneak out passed security by shoving food under your shirt so you looked pregnant - and they fucking fell for it! Or  maybe they were just too lazy to bother calling you out, either way you got away with it though. “And this is what you said before bolting out of Forever21 with sunglasses in your bra - verbatim: ‘If it is a chain, it’s free rein.’.” 

You wiped an imaginary tear from your eye as you heard those words leave Tsukishima’s mouth, “Beautiful-” You mused, about to go on to tell him about the other economic benefits of stealing from large corporations until he cut you off to correct you as always.

“So, you were wrong. These headphones were not a dollar, they were free.” 

Of course, Tsukishima never talks to you without the intend of either insulting you or proving your wrong in some way/argue with you. So why would this be any exception?

“Anyway,” Tsukishima began, his gaze shifting around the room rapidly in search of the biology teacher, “Where is that bitch? I’m ready to dissect the fuck out of that lamb heart if he just gets his ass over here immediately. He always does this.” Tsukishima huffed as this was far from the first time he had been let down by the biology teacher, as well as all of his classmates.

In fact, the whole class had basically mutually agreed that the biology teacher was shit as almost everyone in the class was failing due to his horrible teaching - or lack there of. Tsukishima was the only one passing because he had a tutor but he was still averaging 60% - a C - which was way too low for his liking. 

Also, the biology teacher had a habit of making false promises - for instance, there was that one time he said the class could use whiteboards to create model cells so he rushed out the room to ‘go get the whiteboards’ and didn’t come back. Instead of getting the whiteboards, there was a rumour going around the school that - with the assistance a foreign language teacher - he conducted a different kind of biological experiment in the janitor’s cupboard. 

Be that as it may, all my homies hated the biology teacher..until today, when he actually pulled through with the goods.

He came marching into the class holding a pale bag filled with a dark, red substance and quickly placed it on his desk. “Right, troops. Get yourself a partner, come ‘ere and grab a lamb heart then remove the tricuspid valve for me, will ya?” He panted, rubbing his forehead and bringing attention to his bright red face. He was seemingly out of breath yet nobody has ever seen him run before; was he that tired from walking to the storage cupboard and back?

“Sir, do we dissect it with out hands or?”

The teacher shrugged, grabbing his bag and slinging it over his shoulder before rushing out of the room. “I don’t know, sure? Or maybe use a spatula or something. Right, BRB, guys.” Just like that, he was gone. Probably to go rail Tsukishima’ foreign language teacher in the privacy of his own home or something. ‘Ew.’ Tsukki shuddered at the thought. 

“I’ll go get us a heart.” He said, getting up from his chair and about to make his way over to the teacher’s desk until you giggled, asking, “Who said I wanted to partner up with you?” 

Tsukishima rolled his eyes, checking the time on his phone and spoke without averting his gaze from the path in front of him, “You’ve not got much of a choice.” With that, he slinked off to the front of the class to grab a heart and hopefully a spatula too. 

Your mouth was left agape at his comment, mostly because you were unable to decipher what he meant by that; curse his naturally sarcastic-sounding tone! Perhaps that was his way of trying to hit on you by saying he wouldn’t allow you to partner up with anybody else - or it could be a jab at the fact everyone in this class hates you for one reason or another.

“Some knob took the last spatula so I guess you’re using your hands.” He grumbled, dumping the heart which was packed in a thin, clear plastic bag onto your desk. Crossing his arms over his chest before sitting back down at his own table, pulling out his phone and about to start playing some music until you realised what he was trying to do and instinctively flicked his arm.

“What?” He hissed, jerking his head around to shoot you a deadly glare. You stuck your bottom lip out to form a pout but then you remembered that he finds your pouty face funny and right now you were trying to be intimidating so you quickly switched to a scowl. “You’re the one who wanted to dissect the stupid thing, you do it!” You roared, slamming the lamb heart onto his desk then leaned back in your chair, folding you arms over your chest in a bad-tempered manor.

Tsukishima’s expression softened slightly as he looked over, doing his best to stifle a chuckle at how silly you looked with a scowl on your face - like grumpy cat, in a way. “Why are you so mad?” He asked monotonously, shifting his gaze onto the heart on his desk, hesitantly reaching out to unzip the plastic bag which it was packed inside. 

You shrugged your shoulders, biting your lip as you looked down at your hands, shocked at how white your knuckles had become from holding a fist for so long. “My bad, Tsukki.” You said in a low voice, embarrassed at how his simple actions had pissed you off so much. “I guess I am just kinda frustrated with this whole class - mostly the teacher. I mean, we’re literally all doing horribly and instead of helping he just gives us a fucking lamb heart to dissect like what good does that--”

Suddenly, you felt something cold and slimy splat against your elbow, leading to a small gasp escaping your mouth as you instinctively whipped your head over to see what it was - however, as soon as you laid your eyes on it, you wished that you hadn’t. 

A high-pitched shriek left your mouth, immediately gaining the attention of almost the whole class but once the turned heads realised how uneventful the situation actually was, they went back to what they were doing prior to your scream. 

Tsukishima winced slightly in reaction to the shrill sound that left your mouth - “Oh, shut up.” He snapped, rolling his eyes at your - in his opinion - melodramatic reaction. “It’s just a bit of lamb heart; here, I’ll get it off for you.”

As soon as you realised what you had just done and the reaction it had evoked, you slapped your spare hand over your mouth but without averting your gaze from the god-forsaken piece of meat which clung committedly to your forearm. “Tsukki.” You tried to sound angry but the fear was still clear in your voice, “Why would you do that?” Although you hadn’t seen him do the deed, you were almost 100% this was the work of him flicking the wretched lamb muscle onto your arm - this theory was reinforced by the fact the plastic bag was lying wide open on his desk.

Tsukishima laughed, leaning over to pick the bit of heart off of your arm then proceeded to flick it away to some other poor soul’s desk. “There we go. Happy now?” 

You growled - something your friend had taught you to do whenever you were mad - shooting daggers at the lanky megane sitting in front of you while he wore a sly grin which just made you want to punch him right on the nose. “What the fuck was that for?” You snarled, “You know how much I hate blood.”

Tsukishima wheezed, he genuinely couldn’t tell if you were being serious or not, “Then what are you doing in a biology class?” His question was barely audible through his gasps for as well as the sound of him slapping him knee.

You clicked your tongue, wiping the excess lamb juice off of your arm, “Joking.” You droned, turning to eye the heart on his desk. “Go on, dissect the thing.”

[prorevenge]

Better check your facts, because people KNOW people.

Had to post this one...it isn't petty, it isn't regular, and it ruined a guys journalistic career.

The internet has evolved quite a lot over the years. Some people may remember usenet groups, I know I do, used to have a lot of fun reading them. Kind of similar in a way to today's reddit in a way...no matter what the subject was, someone would have a usenet newsgroup for it. But unlike todays reddit, it was strictly text. You could download images, but they would take forever to download, and could often be across several different messages...just one of the messages missing, and you wouldn't get the image. Things then improved, download speeds slowly got faster, and then there was IRC that came about. IRC saw the same thing...there was chatroom for anything and everything...and if there wasn't, you could clearly create it. If you were to try to watch a video over the internet back then, it could take you a couple of hours to download a music video...you get the idea. This is important for the context of the story.

I was a writer on a couple of wrestling newsletters during the mid to late 90's. We only published our newsletters online...you could have it emailed to you, or go to a website to read it (think we hosted on geocities or tripod). Both wrestling newsletters were independent of each other, and I used different nicknames on each. One was more a review and preview newsletter, where we would post reviews of the most recent shows/events, talk about current feuds, and talk about what we may think will happen in the next big event.

The other newsletter, was a news and rumours newsletter, with a few fun puzzles/competitions thrown in to keep things interesting. At the time, you had a few big name wrestling news and rumours websites, and a handful of small ones...I was a writer on one of the small ones. Sometimes we would get news and rumours from the big name websites, giving them credit where appropriate. Sometimes, we would hear things from people in the business...everyone had their sources of information. And sometimes we would make an educated guess on possible scenarios, based on current trends in the industry. It did get a bit cut-throat at times, with some newsletters claiming that they broke the news first, when it had already been published in other newsletters first. And you would even have some newsletters devote all of their time trying to rubbish the other newsletters for publishing false and misleading information. It was rumours...we did not always get it right.

Through a couple of readers of my first wrestling newsletter, I learned of a huge surprise in the works for one organisation, which could potentially lead to something happening at a big event coming up. I won't mention the surprise, but it involved a person from another sport. No other wrestling newsletter had reported it, so I included it as a rumour on the second wrestling newsletter. I was instantly rubbished by one of the major wrestling newsletters at the time, publishing a clearly nonsense rumour that would never happen...only for that very same newsletter to publish the exact same rumour two or three days later, and claim to be the first ones to publish it. This sort of stuff happened all the time, it did not bother me at all.

Anyway, I happened to have a few wrestlers who actually read my first newsletter...no big names as such, but a couple of lesser known wrestlers in the big organisations. I knew who they were, but refused to reveal their identities back then, and refuse to reveal them now. One of them let me know of an unknown fact from a major match a couple of years earlier (it was to do with an injury that happened during a part of the match). This fact had never been published anywhere else at the time. I mentioned that I wrote for another wrestling newsletter, that dealt with news and rumours, and asked if I could repeat the information. The wrestler said sure, but not to credit him. So I go ahead and publish the rumour.

Straight away I had another of the smaller wrestling newsletters say that it was nonsense. They said that it was impossible for the match to have continued, had the injury happened. They then started a smear campaign on the second newsletter, I was getting spam emails constantly, virus attempts originating from the competition, the competition even went so far as claiming that they had the full story of my wife of 10 years working as a hooker (don't ask, they were trying to find anything to smear me with). There was more sinister and disgusting stuff, but I won't write it here. Why it got so personal, I do not know, but the funny thing was that at the time, I was a 22 year old single university student, and if I had a wife of 10 years who was working as a hooker, I would have had to marry her when I was 12. But his smear campaign was working, our readership dropped by nearly 50%. It was time to get some revenge, although I had no idea just how far the revenge would end up reaching.

Firstly, I approached one of the bigger wrestling newsletters. They would often run ads at the bottom or rear of their newsletters, for "affiliated" newsletters. I organised a new affiliation with them, removing an affiliation they had with the competition. Small potatoes. I started promoting the second newsletter heavily on usenet, in some of the wrestling groups...which ultimately led to an increase in our email subscription base, greater than what it was before his smear campaign. This negated any effect that his smear campaign had...but I was hungry for more. I wanted to shove it where the sun don't shine, so I contacted those wrestlers who read my first newsletter. I explained the situation to them, and they were happy to help out. It took a couple of weeks, but eventually I was able to post a link to a 15 second video (hosted on a geocities webpage, as well as on a wrestling usenet group), where the wrestler at the centre of the injury rumour not only confirmed it, but gave a shoutout to my second newsletter. While it validated me and my information, it still didn't shut the other guy up.

Finally, a break. While the guy used an alias for his newsletter, he did actually mention his name a couple of times, and where in the US he attended university. Using this information, I was able to get a friend in the US to do some searching for me (attended that very same university), and discovered that the guy had actually completed a journalism degree several years earlier. Further research indicated that he was now working as a reporter for a regional newspaper in the US. His wrestling newsletter must just be a hobby. So I decided to send all of the information I had, his smear campaign etc, to the newspaper office. I don't know what, if anything, it would do...but it was worth a shot. About a month later, I got an email back from the newspaper, thanking me for the information. They discovered that he was using the newspaper's system to run the wrestling newsletter, which was against their policy, so they fired him. And because the newspaper was part of a chain of regional newspapers across the US, he was going to struggle to find another journalism job. The newsletter got shut down as well, because without the newspaper's system to run it, the guy had no way of continuing with the newsletter.

Side note...I ended up finishing with my newsletters not long after anyway. The first newsletter, as I was just a writer for it, I finished up with it when the owner of the newsletter decided to close it down (he didn't have the time to devote to it due to work commitments). The second one, I started off as just a writer/contributor, then took over their competitions, then eventually took over the whole newsletter (original owner didn't want to do it anymore). But in the end, I was finishing up at university, I had to move on with my career, so I closed it down.

(source) story by (/u/ZeroPenguinParty)

[1994sunflower]

Hey feel free to tell me to get lost but I was wondering if we could get some possessive and delicious Mikey before we get our hearts broken with the Heaven sequel? 😩 Maybe they’re at a party or something and someone really aggressively hits on Y/N or spreads a rumour that she ‘cheated’ on Mikey with Ash so Mikey is just that meme of “so you have chosen death” and everyone expects Y/N to be super against it cause anti violence but this dude really humiliated her so instead she’s Mikey #1 fan

loved making this, hope you enjoy! (also i know you couldn’t possibly have known but a lot of this story is loosely similar to what locked out of heaven ii will feature (like super similar just a few key differences) so there’s that to look out for)

the locked out of heaven teaser will be out this week so this is the last one shot i’ll be making while i finish up the series! which is just as well since you’re right — its perfect just before the sequel hits. i’m so excited.

in which Michael defends you

The music was so loud, it felt like it was vibrating within your bones. The sheer numbers of bodies all around you was enough to have you wanting to go back home. But you weren’t here for your enjoyment. You were here for Michael.

Michael who had been so understanding with your differences in preferences and personalities that he had put off going to parties nearly the entire school year. But it was coming close to the end of the fall semester and you wanted him to relax and have fun. For him, that meant going to parties and getting drunk. And you could be okay with that tonight.

The party was at a frat house which was something entirely new for you. Michael, however, blended in like he was a regular (which he was). He got ushered in by the brothers without issue, like he owned the place. But it shouldn’t have been surprising with the kingly reputation he possessed from these parties. You couldn’t help but to feel a mixture of not belonging with your reddened cheeks and pride at being the one under his arm when Michael walked in. You saw the way all eyes moved to him, the whoops and hollers of people welcoming him back to the scene.

Maybe it had something to do with you being a girl at a frat party that had you being offered a drink before even Michael. Though you were sure it had to do with the boy offering it to you not seeing Michael in time. But by the time the red cup was in front of your face, Michael’s angry hand shot out and squeezed the curly haired boy’s wrist. So tightly you were almost worried he would break it.

“Fuck off.” Michael warned in a growl, taking the drink for himself and all but pushing the boy away from you. As you watched the boy run off, you came to understand that this was definitely not your scene.

The unfamiliar experience and surroundings were all made worth it to see Michael, red solo cup in hand, watching the crowd. As he drank from his cup, you could see a little twinkling of amusement in his cool eyes, one that you were sure was noticeable only to you. And that was enough to let you know he was happy to be there. Happier, still, to have you there.

You normally chose to let him go alone, much to his disappointment. But now, having you in his arms while he got to enjoy the slightly chaotic atmosphere, he felt content. It made you feel safer, too, to have him at your side constantly. You never suggested it because you didn’t want to make him feel limited to focusing on only you instead of his own enjoyment. But he was never more than a few inches away from you anyway.

Michael’s arms, covered by his black hoodie, hung loosely off of your waist and he held you tight against his chest. The two of you were right in front of the wall of the house, letting people come to you rather than the other way around. Michael didn’t have anyone he’d want to approach anyway. While he talked with his acquaintances or people who wanted to be his acquaintances, you were right there beside him. Every now and then he would gaze down at you, his eyes filled with a sort of fondness that made you melt into him.

His head ducked down to reach your ear, nuzzling you slightly. “Are you good?”

His low voice made you shiver as you nodded up at him, eyes bright with honesty. You were good, you were fine even in a place so out of your comfort zone. Because of him.

Michael smiled in a way he only ever did with you. Placing a kiss to the top of your head, he put his red cup in your hand. Putting his hand on your jawline, taking up much of your face in the process, he moved your face to look up at him. “I’ll be right back, baby girl. Need to go to the bathroom, don’t drink anything, okay?”

Your teeth caught your lower lip in reflex honestly. He knew what you liked and he knew what treating you so roughly, especially in public, did to you. So it was no surprise to either of you when you nodded obediently up at him.

Your heart thumped at his mischievous smile, proving to you that he knew exactly what he was doing. Leaning down and placing a loving peck to your cheeks, he maneuvered his way through the throngs of people like an expert.

You’d gone to a couple of parties with him before and it never ceased to amaze you just how in his element he was at them. He knew exactly what to say, how to act and he was always in control. He never had an issue getting his way around or getting what he wanted, unlike those that had to push against dancing bodies to find their way or go searching for a drink. No, those things were handed to Michael easily. It was obvious with the ways people tried desperately to get out of his way, to get his attention. But his attention was only ever on you.

Which is why it was so daunting when you felt someone creep closer to you a few minutes after Michael left. Michael’s drink was still in your hand and you felt vulnerable without his intimidating and fierce protective presence next to you. You’d never had anyone approach you specifically or even try to when Michael was next to you. People knew better than that. Especially in this environment.

But here was this tall, skinny brown haired guy standing right beside you. His gaze directly on you to the point where it made you squirm. He was a great deal taller than you but shorter than Michael. He was wearing a black leather jacket that didn’t suit him as well as Michael’s.

Still, though, the guy placed a hand beside your head on the wall, making you take a few steps away. But you couldn’t really do much when he leaned forward slightly, forcing you to lean as far as you could into the hard wall behind you.

“I just saw you across the room and I had to come to tell you that you’re absolutely beautiful.” His voice was high and his smile had a cockiness to it that made you uncomfortable.

But he was being nice and you couldn’t hate him for that. So you smiled gratefully and kindly like you always did. “Thank you.”

You hoped that would be it, a swift exchange and he would be on his way to find someone more interested. And more available. But he didn’t move, even when you diverted your eyes to look at anywhere but him.

“I’m Jamie, by the way.” He put his entire forearm against the wall, basically leaning over you.

Your eyes shot out desperately to search for Michael, or Ashton, or anyone. But to no avail. Yet still, you couldn’t be mean to him, it wasn’t how you were wired and you weren’t sure you could be even if you tried. He was just trying to be friendly and made flirtiness was just part of his personality.

“Nice to meet you.” You voice was soft and your answer curt. That was the best way for you to say ‘leave me alone’ without hurting anyone’s feelings.

But he couldn’t read you, not like Michael could. So his smile got larger. “I could get you another drink, that one’s almost empty.” He gestured to Michael’s cup, “Then we could get to know each other a little more.” His eyes held a dirty humor that you didn’t want to examine.

Your face had grown dimmer, your expression much more uncomfortable and serious than it was when you were beside Michael, a comfortable smile on then. “No, thanks. This is my boyfriend’s.” You mumbled, “Michael.” You said his name as if maybe it could get warning bells to go off in Jamie’s mind.

But, unfortunately, with Michael no where in sight, he seemed to feel empowered. “I don’t see him around.” He made a show of sweeping the room with his eyes, “So what’s stopping us from having a little fun?”

When his hands moved to touch your waist, his lips headed to your neck, you pulled away sharply, so sharply you spilled Michael’s drink. But you were now a good few feet away from him. “I said no!”

You weren’t used to having to repeat yourself when you said no. Michael was respectful of you and your boundaries so often, you didn’t even have to say it. He already knew by your body language or expressions.

This guy, however, had a false perception of who you were and what you would allow. As if you would ever cheat on Michael, the man you loved, let alone do anything of the sort with someone you didn’t know.

It was obvious Jamie didn’t expect your outburst. Maybe he expected you to be as submissive as you looked. And you were, to an extent. Only for Michael.

“Fuck you then, bitch.” Jamie’s words and expression were so angry you could almost imagine him foaming at the mouth. And you wished they didn’t have an effect on you but you couldn’t deny the tears that sprung to your eyes.

“I just heard you open your legs easy.” He was making a scene and you wanted to disappear when you heard the quiet lull of conversation and eyes turning to you. “You’ll give it to anyone when you’re boyfriend’s not looking. Especially to his best friend, right?”

There were a series of gasps around you and your face was burning from embarrassment and horror at the untrue things he was yelling about you to everyone. You were shaking your head but too mortified to be able to speak. How could you when he was saying you’d disrespect the love of your life like that? When his words felt like a slap to the face to your reputation, who you really were as a person.

He got closer to you, this time managing to grab your waist and press his lower body against yours disgustingly. “So how about I show you a good time, too?”

You were shaking a little in unabashed anger and humiliation when you realized that the gasps that rang around the room weren’t so much at his insult to you. But to Michael’s entrance into the space right as Jamie’s words spewed out.

But you definitely noticed when everyone’s eyes trailed just behind you to your tall, locked jaw boyfriend. Michael had paused at the doorway of the living room when he heard Jamie and when he saw you standing directly in front of him.

The music didn’t stop but the party did. No one moved, no one spoke. Michael’s gaze inspected you, your shaking figure and tear filled, embarrassed, eyes. All eyes were on Michael as he tilted his head to the side, staring at Jamie’s now wide-eyed figure. You could see Michael’s hands clenching and unclenching almost as if he was deciding on the best way to kill the boy in front of him. He blew out one single angry breath, which almost sounded like a chuckle, before he began to move, stomping and agile.

You weren’t even sure if Michael heard what he said. But just seeing him on you, on his girlfriend, it didn’t matter as Michael reached Jamie without saying a word, separating him from you and just punching him squarely in the jaw. “Say that again, to my face.” Michael sneered. “You’re not going to do shit with her.”

He didn’t even give him a chance to recover before Michael grabbed his hair, twisting his tatted fingers in almost painfully before smashing the guy’s head into the wall. Not hard enough to knock him out but hard enough to hurt. And you were sure Michael kept him conscious on purpose as he grabbed a hold of the collar of Jamie’s leather shirt to keep him still for a punch to the face. “Don’t fucking touch my girl.”

The crowd had erupted with noise as they gathered in a circle to watch more diligently the fight that was starting to escalate. You were frozen, at the front of it. Unsure of what to do. You’d never stood by and watched Michael do this, usually you were the one to stop it before it got to this point.

And while the rational side of you, the pacifist side who hated anything that had to do with violence, told you to stop him, the dominant part of you, the one that felt shame and humiliation coursing through your blood, felt a sense of pride, gratefulness and love at the man who was defending you and your honor. Against the man that had mortified you for no reason. So you didn’t do anything as you watched Michael land punch after punch to the weak boy, alternating between the face and gut. Secretly, you were cheering for your boyfriend.

You felt a few eyes on you, waiting for you to step in, control Michael like you usually did. Especially when you had become known to be everything Michael was not, peace loving and anti-violence. You’d become many people’s savior when you stepped in and prevented Michael from doing too much harm to his victims. But right then, you felt nothing but hot for the sight in front of you. An almost sadistic feeling of attraction to this side of your boyfriend, the protective, possessive side (the one who would fuck anyone up that dared think you were anything but Michael’s) bloomed in you.  

Michael stopped his assault only to drag the shorter boy by the hair to you. He could read you so well, knew you so much that he knew that you not stopping him right when he began meant that you were supporting him in everything he was doing. So he didn’t hesitate to stand in front of you, his eyes still swirling with anger but softened by an adoring love for you, so as not to scare you too much, with Jamie right in his hand.

“What did this motherfucker do to you, baby girl?” His voice was much sweeter, patient with you.

And you knew your answer would effect a lot. Including, what would happen to Jamie and whether Michael would know that, with your blessing, you were not only supporting him in whatever he chose to do but encouraging it. Everyone knew it, as it felt as if everyone was holding their breath, waiting for you to say the word and just end poor Jamie’s painful suffering already.

You had to question yourself a little when you didn’t hesitate to answer. “H-he grabbed me and pressed…against me. A-and he said I’m easy, that I cheated on you w-i-ith Ash…” Your voice was soft, still humiliated that someone would say that to you in front of an audience, let alone that you had to repeat it for your boyfriend. Luckily for you though, you didn’t have to worry about whether or not he’d believe you over him. You knew he’d always choose you.

Michael’s small smile wasn’t lost on you. It wasn’t due to situation but instead due to the fact that this was the first time you were supporting him on his violent tendencies. And he was more than happy to appease you. In fact, when your words fully sunk in, he was more than ready to do anything at your command. Because no one touched or disrespected what was his.

“You hit on my girlfriend, press up against my girlfriend. When you know she’s mine. She belongs to me. It’s like you don’t give a shit what’ll happen to you.” He lifted Jamie’s slumped figure up, just enough for his fist to connect directly with his face. Just right so he heard the sickening crack of his nose.

At that you did flinch, just a bit. And maybe Michael was watching you to know when you hit your limit or maybe he knew he had to stop before he really lost control. But he dropped Jamie’s shrieking body to the ground, resolving to just kicking his stomach harshly three times until Jamie curled up in a ball. “No one disrespects my girl, especially with shit that isn’t true.”

Michael looked at the crowd around him, “And that goes for everyone who thinks they can touch what’s mine and get away with it. Got it?” His possessiveness was obvious in his words and angry face.

It was then you stepped forward, allowing him to take your wrist in his hand once he turned back around to you, his face twisted in anger and his chest heaving quickly with unshed frustration. You had an inkling of where he would release that frustration and you bit your lip with anticipation. He dragged you out of the party without a word, the partygoers parting quickly, more quickly than usual, to give him a clear path out.

He was silent all the way to his house, though granted it was only a block away. It was pitch dark and you couldn’t remember the last time you walked alone in this neighborhood at night. You however, didn’t feel much fear with you being dragged behind Michael. No one would dare stop him or mess with you, especially with him looking so angry. The grip on your wrist was almost painful.

The way he threw you carelessly on his bed in his dark bedroom told you everything you needed to know about just how frustrated he was. He knew just how much you loved being manhandled, treated almost like a toy. And when mixed when something you loved more, how much he cared for you - protecting you to a fault, it was hard to feel anything but a growing need for him.

“I’m not going to be gentle.” He warned.

You felt breathless when you answered. “I don’t want you to be. Use me.”

When he turned on the lights, you could see the way his eyes darkened with desire, something you were sure your eyes mirrored. It was the first time you had found his fighting hot, more because it was to defend and protect you, remind people that you were his.

When he joined you on his bed, ridding you of your clothes quickly, you were quick to help him. “Can’t leave you alone for a second.” He mumbled when you were finally naked. He took a hold of your hips, moving himself so he was directly between your legs and jean clad crotch grinding into you. “Those fuckers don’t know who you belong to unless I’m right beside you. Don’t know their place.”

You moaned, your eyes nearly rolling to the inside of your head. The friction was so good. But you needed more, you let him know that as you wiggled your hips against him.

Michael shed off his hoodie but he didn’t let it go flying across the room like he did with everything else. Instead he handed it to you, “Wear this while I fuck you.”

You didn’t have to ask why. You knew. It was something that was his and it would just embody the fact that you were his, you belonged to him, that you’d only ever do something like this with him. And you were more than happy to oblige when you put the oversized black hoodie on. It smelled just like him and you couldn’t help but inhale his scent as it covered your body. The sleeves went well past your hands but you scrunched up the sleeves, the end of the hoodie traveled to your mid thighs.

A now shirtless Michael, taking off his belt and jeans, groaned when he saw you. There was something in the way you looked so small, so vulnerable in something that was his that made him get painfully harder in his pants.

You let yourself admire the artwork lining his toned body. Leaning forward, his hand wrapped around your neck, squeezing as he brought your lips to his. The kiss was deep, his tongue exploring your mouth hotly and you couldn’t help but to moan around his lips. He pulled away not long after, forcing you down on your back again as he wasted no time in grabbing your hips, aligning himself into you.

His eyes looked up to watch you as he rubbed the tip of his cock along your slit, “You’re fucking mine.” At your moan, his hand around your neck tightened, “That’s right, no one else will ever have you like this, they’ll never touch you like I will. Especially not that fucking piece of shit.”

With that, he entered you, making you arch your back as you gasped. You’d never get tired of feeling so deliciously full by his length. You were already so wet, he slid easily into you.

When he began thrusting into you, the peace was brutal but it was just what you both needed. He needed to get out his frustration (which you were more than happy to let him use you for) and you needed a release after the night’s events, especially an event you didn’t even really want to go to in the first place.

Michael was content with watching the way your small body, eclipsed under his, was writhing under him. The way your legs wrapped around him, asking for more, your mouth dropped open as whimpers of pleasure left it, the way your tits sprung out over his half zipped hoodie draped over your sweaty and bouncing frame. You were so hot. And just the thought of another man’s hands on you, him not being there to protect you from the boy’s cruel and disrespectful words, had him growling and slowing his thrusts just to slam into you harder and deeper.

“You liked seeing me beat the shit out of him, little one? Did you get turned on at seeing me protect you, showing him that you’re mine?”

Your eyes were screwed shut, unsure if you could even answer when you felt so lightheaded with pleasure. But then Michael’s hand left your neck and slapped you once on your cheek, the sting of which made you clench around his girth, leaving you panting for more. “Say it.”

“Yesyesyes” You screamed out, “I loved it, daddy. Loved seeing you so mad, showing him this pussy’s yours and only yours. Only you can fuck my tight pussy.” Knowing your words did wonders for his possessive ego, your hand went down to your clit, rubbing furiously as you opened your eyes to stare into Michael’s eyes.

But his gaze was where you finger was currently working. He wasn’t smiling but the way his jaw was clenched showed you just how much he enjoyed the visual in front of him.

Michael chuckled humorlessly, spreading your legs even further as his thrusts became more punctuated. Loving the way your cunt was so still so tight, each thrust felt like he was fighting for your walls to accept him. “Fuck yeah. Take my big dick like the good little fuck-toy you are, look how used you are to me.” His fingers found their way into your hair, pulling your hair harshly.

“Look at you, being so shy, innocent and peaceful in front of others but you get wet whenever I get a little pissed off. You were trembling in there but now you’re just my little whore. Isn’t that right? Bouncing on my dick, wearing my hoodie while I have some other guy’s blood on my knuckles.”

Your mouth opened involuntarily at his words. You were too far gone to even think through your actions. But he didn’t miss a beat in his thrusts as he leaned forward, spitting directly in your mouth. You moaned as you swallowed.

“Nasty girl. I should’ve fucked you in front of him. Let him see me fucking you raw. Let him hear how tight your fucking cunt is, see how fucking wet you’re leaving my dick, but how he can never have you.” Michaels grunts and groans have become almost desperate.

Your hips were moving on their own accord, desperately looking for your release and to make Michael feel as good as possible. It worked if Michael’s tight grip on your neck was anything to go by.

“I would’ve put him in the hospital for disrespecting you like that, for making you upset, if I wasn’t too busy thinking about having my dick in you.” Michael muttered as the noise of skin slapping became louder. “When you just watched me fuck him up, I’ve never been harder...Fuck. It was so hot knowing you were letting me do that, that you liked it. I wanted to destroy him for you. Destroy him and then let you suck on my cock while he watched. Show him what that shy little mouth is good for, only for me.”

Both of your bodies were glistening by the time Michael kneeled, allowing his dick to move deliciously against your tight walls. “I really did taint you, didn’t I?”

Your sweet, virginal smile was enough for his hips to stutter at his incoming orgasm. But his expert hips just moved faster into you, enjoying the way your moans got higher in pitch and the way they stuttered out of your mouth. Your back arched at his movements.

“Harder. Give it to me harder, Mikey.” You barely got out. But as he wrapped both of his hands around your throat, pulling you up so that only your hips were laying on the bed, you knew he got the message. He had your face only centimeters from his, his eyes watching your clouded ones carefully as his hips moved with stamina, pounding into you as roughly as he could.

It was so hot in the room. It surely didn’t help that you were wearing his large hoodie. But you didn’t dare take it off. Instead, as one side of the fabric slowly fell over your shoulder, you took one of the strings of the hoodie in your mouth, looking up at Michael with hooded eyes, watching the way his still frustrated features honed in on your body.

The headboard was pounding against the wall behind it so much that you were worried anyone walking by outside could hear it. But as Michael took out the string and instead put two fingers into your mouth while he continued pounding into you, you stopped thinking of much else.

Michael was panting slightly, “Wish I could show that wannabe just what a fucking slut you are for me. How you let me do whatever I want to you. Only me. You’ll never be ‘easy’ for anyone else, let alone that cocksucker. They’re wasting their time and safety flirting with what’s mine.” He spit out the word easy like it was an insult against him that night. But if it was an insult to you, it might as well have been. “Fuck, you’re mine. Only mine to have, to love, to fuck.”

You were shaking you head as you felt the way his thick dick moved in and out of you at such a delicious pace. “Only for you, daddy. I’m only a slut for you.”

His hand around your throat gave you another harsh slap, harder than the first one but it just made you let out an elongated, pleased moan.

“That’s right, little one. Mine.” His possessive words were mixed with a growling groan.

Your mascara had to be running by then but you didn’t care. All you cared was the hot knot forming in your tummy, telling you you were close. And you were desperate to get to your release. Your walls clammed onto him, making him moan lowly.

You felt his fingers in your hair before he pulled your head back harshly, exposing your throat to him. His lips found your skin, leaving open mouth kisses and bites. No doubt searching to leave as many hickeys as possible, literal signs for anyone that looked at you that you were his. And you had no intention on covering them up the next morning.

“Such a good little hole for me to fuck.” His degrading words only served to make you closer to the edge. His face scrunched up at his next words, “Can’t wait for to paint your walls with my cum. Fuck, I can’t wait to have your stomach round with my child. Then I’m gonna show you off to those bastards, show them what I did to you.”

Your stomach fluttered as you came around him, you couldn’t handle his words, the meaning of them, let alone handle the intense orgasm that rocked your body. But your moan turned into screaming when he continued railing into you, not slowing down even as you came down from your high. No, when his hands tightened around your throat again, choking you so you almost couldn’t breath. Almost. But it was so good, you could feel each slight movement of his hips tenfold, the way his cock was driving in and out of you.

He’d never gone to that extent before but he was mad tonight, he was frustrated. And you almost felt lucky for it when you saw him deep, angry eyes stare down at you, a mocking smirk on his face.

“What a good girl.” His voice was gravelly, “Letting me fuck you like this, letting me use you to get off, use you when I’m angry.”

You walls hugged his length perfectly and as your hips became thrusting to meet his own hips’ movements, his thrusts became lazy, slower. Until he came, his cum splashing beautifully into your cunt, filling you to the brim. It was so much, even when he finally pulled out of your impossibly tight entrance, a good amount dripped out of you.

You couldn’t move, even when he slowly let go of his grip on your throat, and settled your upper body down gently back on the bed, almost comically gentle form how he was only moments before. Then his lips found yours, kissing you deeply. A kiss that seemed to reflect all love, deep protectiveness and animalistic possessiveness he felt.

And when you pulled away to finally see his face again, you didn’t see a trace of anger on it anymore. He had fucked all of that away. Now, his face only held a mixture of contentedness and regret.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you,” His words were tinged with just a hint of frustration as he looked away in shame. “I know you didn’t even want to go and then I go and I leave you alone…”

You shook your head, one of your fingers going up to his chin, pushing his face gently to face you again. Loving how obediently he followed your wishes, the way he listened to you no matter if he was the stronger one.

“It’s not your fault, Mikey. It was his. But you were there when it mattered, you protected me in the end. And I love you for that, thank you.”

Your heart melted at the happy smile that overtook his face, the one that showed you it would all be okay. He leaned down again, giving you a peck on the lips. “I love you too, so much, baby girl.”

He buried his face into your dark hair, “I’m sorry that you saw me like that, too. I know you hate violence but the shit he said and did….you’re mine but when I saw him pressing up against you, saying shit only I should say to you, I lost it. I couldn’t control myself. Then I saw you shaking and almost crying…” At your hum, he continued. “And when I heard what he said to you…I saw how embarrassed you were. I’m sorry, everyone knows it isn’t true, I know it isn’t true, and if they don’t I’ll make sure they fucking figure it out by tomorrow.”

At his poorly hidden threat, you giggled just a bit. Making his face shoot up to stare at you in wonder. He thought for sure you’d be mad, that you’d chastise him for being so violent all the time. But there you were, staring at him with an amused smile. Maybe he had been right when he said you liked this side of Michael, at least when it was to protect you.

You shrugged at his incredulous look, “It was kind of hot. Especially when you get so possessive over me.”

A disbelieving chuckle left him, “Yeah? I would say get hit on more often then, you’ll see that side of me a lot more. But I don’t want to see that.”

[moon-yeongjun]

Rabbit Asks Eeyore for Help || Moon Donkey

Summary: Jun plans for a trip away, and goes to Gregory for help. Featuring Eomma, who I love. 

Follows:  Dalmajung Cat Got Your Tongue? 

@notmuchofatail 

JUN: Jun was a cat.

Unfortunately, this fact had not changed despite Jun’s most fervent hopes that Ting-Ting’s, er, diagnosis of sorts was false. He had stubbornly clung to denial as long as he could that this horrible curse could only be lifted by the Royal Sorceress of the Nihon Court (a real thing...in a real place…). Maybe it was temporary, he reasoned! Maybe if he closed his eyes and wished very hard! When that didn’t work, he had bargained with every mysterious force in the universe to give him his human body back in exchange for a lifetime of good behavior. He’d never drink again! He’d go to church TWICE a week. Hell, he’d get married to a very nice Korean woman before the year was up! When that didn’t work, anger quickly dissolved into grief, and while he caterwauled for about an hour, at the end of it he only felt exhaustion, and a sense of dimming acceptance.

He had to go to Nihon.

Through the portal in the dumpster behind the Moon Market, where Haru had popped out over a year ago.

And he had to convince a sorceress (who was a CAT!) to have pity on him.

Dammit all to hell.

Now, Jun had never done this sort of thing before (traveling to other dimensions, dealing with sorcerers etc etc), so he really didn’t know how long it was going to take him. Which meant, before he left, he needed to sort out a plan.

Jun finally...revealed himself to Eomma first. It had been as terrible as one would expect. What mother wanted to hear their first-born son had been cursed into the form of a cat? The whole “Yes, I’ve been lying to you about Haru’s true origins all along!” and “Yes, she was actually a cat princess I’ve accidentally promised myself to!”  went over just as well. But after convincing Eomma not to kill Haru, she of course agreed to run over the market in his stead, because what else were they going to do?

The answer was: Gregory Eeyore.

Jun had thought long and hard about it. Moons didn’t like to ask for help. Questions and rumours would spring up if they turned to Eomma’s church friends, and Vixey was just getting her own business off the ground! So, Greg. Of course, Greg. Eomma called him up and asked Greg to come to the farm for a little meeting.  

Now here Greg was, sitting on the couch. Eomma put down a cup of tea for him before she sat down. “Now er...don’t be alarmed,” she said, as good-naturedly and calmly as she could. “You might find all of this a shock, but trust me, Junnie has it all under control. Erm, Jun-ah?”

Jun sighed and then hopped onto the coffee table. “Yes, hullo, it’s me, yes, really, yes, I am a victim of a curse! Just another day in Swynlake, isn’t it, eh!” he tried for humour, to bark out a laugh, but it came out a bit shrieky. Jun winced.  “Oh, that was embarrassing.”

GREG:

It wasn’t too bizarre that Gregory had been contacted to come to the Moon Farm. He’d been coming three or four times a week ever since Mr. Moon had decided he was going to work there for his mental health or whatever, at least. Sometimes he stayed for breakfast - usually when Eomma insisted, and rarely he swung by outside of those times to drop things off for them from his own mother.

So Gregory hadn’t really batted an eye at the woman’s phone call, agreeing to swing by after he’d closed up Ruff to Fluff for the evening. The only difference was, of course, the lack of Jun.

At least in the moment. However, he figured perhaps he had to stay late at the Market or..was on a date or doing something important. Jun always appeared to have very little free time to sit around and do nothing, after all. He was a very busy man - and...Gregory was sure with all his issues (re: mental breakdowns, possibly curses, etc) that he didn’t help with that. He wasn’t going to question it though, even if he was curious on what Eomma could possibly need from him that didn’t involve the eldest son too - instead just agreeing to tea and thanking Eomma quietly when she placed it in front of him.

His brows furrowed almost immediately however upon her comment - knowing that despite the words themselves, they only ever elicited a concerned response from him. Now don’t panic, but… - don’t be alarmed! I’m sure it’s nothing but-

Words like that were never actually followed by good things, were they? Head tilted slightly as she continued, his lips parting slightly as if he was going to question her almost immediately when he found himself caught off guard again. Jun-ah? Wait...what?

Try as he might to avoid it - Gregory could have sworn his jaw hit the floor when the delicate little paws of a cat hopped up onto the coffee table. Greg’s gaze swept over it almost immediately, always having been drawn to animals of course - and for a moment - he might’ve thought it was a joke. That the… shock that his mother was referring to was the fact that Mr. Moon had adopted a cat! That alone would have been quite a shock to him too. Enough of a shock for him to handle, really…. But then the cat spoke.

The cat spoke and the cat sounded just like Jun. Acted just like Jun. Was Jun. “...Oh my god.” Came the words before he could stop them, his hand covering his open mouth as concern knit his brows deeply across his features. Mr. Moon…. Mr. Moon was a cat. A cat. What the f— “...What… what happened?” He finally questioned, gaze slipping between the (admittedly very cute and adorable!!) Cat-Jun and Eomma.

JUN: Jun grimaced. Well, he supposed not really, because cats did not have the same facial muscles as humans. So his lip curled a little and his eyes narrowed and he looked off a bit to the side, squirming in his own fur. Aish, he knew this was going to be embarrassing, but he was never ready for just how embarrassing! Every single time he had to reveal himself to someone (ahem, so far-- Tae, Ting-Ting, and Eomma) he was sent further down a hole of humiliation he never wanted to crawl out of.

With Greg, that hole was especially deep.

He was supposed to be Mr. Moon after all! Not many people called Jun that-- not many people respected him the same way Greg did. Now, Jun didn’t quite understand why and he definitely didn’t deserve it, but that didn’t mean Jun wanted to lose Greg’s respect either. Over the last few months, his quiet and steady presence had grown into the grooves of this place, as if he were one of Jun’s most beloved fruits. And my, wasn’t that an apt metaphor? When Greg had arrived on the farm, he was wilted; now, he had bloomed!

At least, he wasn’t threatening to disappear into the country sides of France or what-have-you. A marked improvement.

Would that all be lost now? Would Greg find the Moon Farm unsafe? Would he be horrified to learn of how Jun had lied? His ears flicked back and forward. He didn’t want to tell him any of it.

But Jun had to. If he didn’t, Eomma would.

“It’s-- it’s a bit of a story,” Jun chewed out after a prolonged beat of squirmy silence. His tail lashed again. “Agh, and it’s going to sound ridiculous, trust me, I know! I thought it was ridiculous the whole time--”

“진짜 !” exclaimed Eomma, followed by some more annoyed Korean that only Jun (thankfully) could understand. It translated roughly to: So you say, and yet you brought that beast straight into our home, let me feed her at our table--

“Eomma, I know!” Jun mewled in distress.

Eomma just sucked her teeth and picked up her cup of tea. “Go on then, tell him about the 걸레같은 년.”

Jun winced. Not going to translate that.

Whiskers twitching, he glanced toward Greg with a pathetic expression, struggling for another few seconds for the words and then finally bursting out--

 “Yah, fine! Haru is a CAT! She was a cat all along, from a distant cat kingdom and I didn’t know, I tried to take care of her, eh, I thought-- oh, she was a stray! And then POOF! One day she was a woman! She didn’t know what to do, so yes, I helped her again, I signed her up for a cellphone and gave her a job, and then I thought, hey, what a good idea, I’ll pretend to date Haru so my eomoeni gets off my back! I didn’t know it would end like this!”

“You made a deal with a cat demon!” Eomma shot back at him.

“She’s not a demon, Eomma! She’s a normal cat! It’s a spell, it’s-- a weird marriage spell!”

“You really didn’t like Kim Do-yeon that much? Why, because I like her?”

“Eommaaaaaa, this isn’t about Kim Do-yeon!”

“My son made a deal with a cat demon and now look at him!” Eomma repeated to Greg this time, flourishing a hand. “Gregory, this is why you should always listen to your parents. I bet Gregory would go on dates with nice girls that his mother likes.”

“I AM A CAT, CAN WE PLEASE NOT TALK ABOUT MY LOVE LIFE!” Jun mewled, his fur puffing up.

Eomma raised her hands again, then sipped her tea.

Jun turned back to Greg, flattening his ears and crouching down. “...Does that answer your question?”

GREG: Okay.

...okay. That was… that was a lot of information that Gregory tried to follow in a very short amount of time. His head whipped back and forth easily between Jun and Eomma, like he was invested in a terribly long volley of a tennis match. Back and forth - the quick and sharp words between mother and son as Gregory felt himself tug his lip ring between his teeth, gnawing on the metal like the discomfort gnawed in his gut.

He tried to focus on the big picture. To...process it in his mind in a more simple and compact way. In his head, the story went something like this: Eomma wanted Jun to talk to a ‘nice girl’ that she liked by the name of Kim Do-yeon, and evidently Jun did not wish to do so. He hadn’t a clue where on the timeline that fell, but not important. Then Jun found a stray cat that he helped take care of (which was good!! Very cute that grumpy Mr. Moon would take in a stray!!) Not so cute was the fact the stray turned into a full grown woman. One that… as of five minutes ago Gregory had thought to just be the man’s girlfriend.

Oh - and said cat-woman (normal cat?? So… cursed...to be a woman??) was from a distant… cat kingdom.

...what?

Belatedly - Gregory realized quite a bit of time had passed since Jun last spoke. He’d simply been staring in his direction with that same blank look on his expression as he struggled to take that information in and form… any cohesive thought about it. Straightening up mechanically, Greg cleared his throat, hand moving to rub at his temple as his tongue wrapped around words a few times before he could only shake his head.

“...uhm---... n-.. No.” He admitted. If anything, it just opened up so many more questions for him to ask. There were a lot too!! However they were… likely not as important at the moment (even if Greg was… incredibly curious about a cat kingdom). Priorities though. Jun was a cute cat right in front of him. That was kind of a problem. “..I-... I still don’t uhm…. I don’t...see how that involves...you becoming a...cat. I--.. Did… did she turn you into a cat??” Is that why his mother kept calling her a cat demon? “...Or-- I-... I’m sorry I just..” This is a lot he almost said. However...if it was a lot for him he couldn’t imagine how Jun felt. Or..well, actually he could. At least an idea, given he thought he’d been cursed just recently too.

“I...I mean are you … okay?” Stupid question, perhaps.

JUN: “Am I okay?” Jun responded incredulously. And he stood up on all four paws again, fur puffing up. “Do I LOOK like I’m okay to you?! I could be stuck like this forever!”

Hopefully not. He was getting ahead of himself.

Luckily, Eomma chimed in. “Aish, hush,” Eomma said to him, swiping a hand through the air. “That’s no way to talk to a friend. Just answer his questions.”

Jun growled low in his throat. He didn’t want to.

The fact of the matter is that he had purposefully avoided the how. Part of Jun still did not understand himself. This was what Eomma kept forgetting in her quest to make Jun the bad guy here-- this was all news to him too! When Haru first appeared, she’d not explained the details of the spell that sent her to Swynlake. She hadn’t mentioned a mysterious cat sorcerer named Purrseph, who obviously had her own motives.

Maybe Jun should have inquired more deeply into these things. But he wasn’t a sorcerer, or a fairy, or a...a...animal shapeshifter! He was a gardener. A grocer. A mundus. 

Just…Jun.

So to him, Haru’s story was something out of a faery tale. He wished it could stay that way. Why he of all people-- a gardener, a grocer, just Jun-- had been thrust into the narrative made no sense. Look at him! Did he look particularly heroic? He was no knight in shining armor. And definitely not a prince.

Aiya, at least the black fur hid the fact he was definitely blushing. His blood felt like it was on fire!

“Haru...did not mean to. She-- agh.” He grumbled again and swiped an annoyed paw over his whiskers like he was batting away an annoying fly. “I suppose I should have mentioned Haru is not just a cat, she’s...a Cat Princess.”

“HAH,” Eomma barked.

“And she...had to wed a Cat Prince in a different kingdom to unite the lands or… stop a war or something.”

“HAH,” another laugh from Eomma.

“But she didn’t want to--”

“Children are all the same,” sighed Eomma.

“So she asked a cat sorcerer--yes, very funny, Eomma, I know! Erm, anyway. She asked a cat sorcerer for help. According to her, the cat sorcerer cast a spell that would lead her to her own happiness. That’s how she ended up in Swynlake. And apparently, the theory is that once Haru and I … we… uh... ”

Eomma tsked under her breath.

“It isn’t like that!” Jun shot quickly toward Eomma. “We shared a moment of true happiness together! It was just-- a cup of coffee after Chuseok! We fell asleep watching a drama! It was nothing inappropriate or, or grand, or anything! But I woke up and poof, I’m a cat, and I’m supposed to go back to Nihon and marry her, I guess!”

“Over my dead body,” said Eomma.

“Obviously. I just need to get the spell lifted, that’s all. And then everything will go back to the way it was and we can all collectively agree to never mention this again!”

GREG: Gregory shrank back a bit almost immediately at the older man (cat’s) response. Half of it was because that tone that Jun used so easily made him uncomfortable in any situation - but the other half stemmed simply from the fact he….appeared as an angry cat. And while Greg had gone through a lot of things in his life, he’d always been incredibly good with animals. Never had one turn on him in anger in any walk of life. Even the scared dogs at the shop would never turn on him in anger. So it was… weird to see a cat angry. Weird to feel like he might reach out and try to bite or scratch him (and truly he didn’t know if he would).

Either way, the urge to reach out and comfort him like he would a normal cat was immediately ignored. He was not going to have the very first time in his life that he was attacked by an animal be from Jun.

So instead Gregory just leaned back slightly, putting a bit more distance between the pair of them as he listened with a deep frown to the hesitant explanation of.. What exactly had happened to cause this. An explanation, of course, that had him adding new little tidbits to that already too wild story in his mind. Cat Princess. Got it. Right… why not at this rate.

Though Gregory had half a mind to hush Eomma the same way she had Jun for him - though he didn’t dare. He didn’t find the humor in this at all. Even if he could tell it was… bitter humor, Gregory still didn’t feel any inclinations of a smile. Of a laugh or even the slightest shift of humor in his expression. If anything he felt his frown tug down even deeper as he rubbed his hand over his mouth in deep rooted concern.

His expression did shift slightly at Eomma’s tsk, his gaze lifting immediately to Jun’s own with raised brows - and he was just about to interrupt and tell him whatever detail he was about to share was… not important. Gregory didn’t need to know whatever Haru and him had done together to… seal whatever curse this was!!! Jun was quick to interject though, filling that gap quickly and Gregory cleared his throat lightly in relief.

So - ...alright,..Eomma →  Jun+Kim Do-yeon=Happy Eomma, unhappy Jun. Caring Jun adopts stray cat. Cute. Stray Cat (Princess Cat) → full grown woman. Not cute. Fake couple. Not cute. In place of a true love’s kiss - a… true moment of happiness or something. (Cute) Poof, Jun is a cat and needs to marry the Princess Cat in the Cat Kingdom. (Not cute!). Again - as noted when Jun was originally helping him with his ‘maybe curse’, this wasn’t Gregory’s first rodeo. His boyfriend and him broke up to leave the country to find a way to break his curse and he hadn’t returned. Hadn’t...spoken to him.. Seen him. It’d been...well over a year. Honestly it was terrifying to never know what became of him. To think that.. Something like this could happen to Jun and that he’d just up and disappear forever too!

Blowing a deep sigh through his lips, Gregory leaned forward again as he swept both of his hands over his face - massaging his temples roughly. It was...a lot. A very large amount of things to process and Gregory didn’t know if he was mad at Haru for letting this all happen or for Eomma for blaming Jun so much for something that was clearly out of his control. Being angry wasn’t going to help though - and clearly he was called here for a reason..

“....———okay…. So… What can I do? How--.. How can I help?” A hopefully… less stupid question.

JUN: Finally! The reason they were all here.

If only Jun could have started here, but Greg had deserved the explanation, especially because the truth of the matter was-- Jun had no idea how long he was going to be gone. He hoped he could get everything sorted in a matter of days. Get in, find Purrseph, claw her until she listened, lift the spell, and poof! He’d wake up in his bed with thumbs and everything! Whatever happened to Haru, he didn’t know-- it was one of the thoughts he was pushing away. It wasn’t his business. Despite whatever friendship they’d been building… and maybe something more, or at least, he’d had that brief, ill-advised thought last night which was clearly part of the reason he was LIKE this-- it was probably over. Good riddance, and all that. He-- he didn’t care.

But he would need her up until the point he was human again. And he needed Gregory too.

He cleared his throat. “Right, yes. Er, see-- Ting-Ting told me the only way to lift this sort of spell is to go to the sorcerer who cast it. Very annoying. I’ve got to head off to Nihon later today with Haru, and I’m not exactly sure how long I’ll be gone. Probably not very. Haru assures me she knows exactly where that cat sorceress is hiding. So, well, they don’t have boats and cars and things there-- it’s all wild terrain, you know, um, think Lord of the Rings, I guess-- so it might just be a bit of a trek… maybe a-- a week, tops.”

Eomma sighed. She had no comment for all this-- he knew it worried her. It worried Jun too, but he was trying to pretend like it didn’t.

“So I er, just need a bit of help with the store. Eomma will do most of the work, but...but well, if you could help her out. Mostly during the weekdays, er, opening it up--she needs to get my sisters to school, you know. It won’t be that hard, I can walk you through everything, and I created a whole manual of instructions after my um, my abeoji died, just in case, so-- it should all be sorted.” He licked his muzzle, eyes darting down and then up. “I know it’s quite the favour to ask. You...you have your store too.”

GREG:

I’ve got to head off to Nihon. I’m not exactly sure how long I’ll be gone. Maybe a week, tops.

Gregory felt himself stiffen at that - straightening up a tad as that discomfort clenched again in his gut. Jun was leaving. Jun was leaving Swynlake to find a way to lift his curse. He still remembered that night his ex-boyfriend last flew into his window. The way he stood in his room and tried to explain that he was leaving - that he didn’t know for how long, but he needed to break his curse. That he was closer to doing it than he’d ever been before and that this would be it. The final steps. That he’d come back when it was over… I’m not really sure how long it’ll take.

What if Mr. Moon never came back either? What if he left to lift his curse and Gregory found himself alone again? He’d lost his boyfriend. His best friend left for University and never said goodbye. Hadn’t contacted him since graduation. He couldn’t lose Mr. Moon too - but he also couldn’t ask him to stay. It wasn’t fair - and it wasn’t… realistic. The man was a cat and… obviously had a very good idea of how to solve it.

But the thought still terrified him. He didn’t want him to go.

“I--.. It’s fine.” He said perhaps too quickly, offering a slight dismissive wave of his hand. “I-... Ian can..basically run my shop without me.” Any of his employees probably could. They were all incredibly trustworthy and he’d trained them to. They’d all learned quickly - but Ian covered a lot of the important business work aspects. Knew how to operate the books, to close up or open, how to handle appointments and customers and inventory. That was why Ian would always be the one to get the keys when the time came.

So Gregory wasn’t worried about that.

“It’s not..it’s not a problem. I uhm… I mean I can..I can just come here and help on the farm a little earlier - and then go back and open for her like you would. And uhm… - Go to class or my shop or Board stuff during the day and check in again near closing. It’s.. - it’s more than doable.”

JUN: People often thought that Jun was not a very emotional person, or that he wasn’t very empathetic.

This was a mistake.

Now, he wasn’t as empathetic as he could be, and yes, he did make decisions based on logic and facts. But Jun knew when people were upset. Maybe it was all the training in hospitals. Maybe it was growing up with three sisters, being raised by Haleomoni and Eomma before his abeoji was ever in the picture. Whatever it was, he’d become especially attuned to Gregory’s stormy emotional states-- and he saw the boy stiffen, and knew that this was not good news.

But Eomma had cried too. This annoyed, sarcastic version of herself was a shield she was putting up for Greg, so she wouldn’t cry again. But she had asked him-- how long will you be gone? How can I live without you, my Yeong-junnie?

Jun frowned a bit, squirming again as Greg looked away from him and, naturally, agreed, like the very good boy he was. How readily and easily he agreed too. It tugged Jun’s heart. It made him feel worse.

He was bringing so much worry to all the people he loved, when it was supposed to be his job to carry it.

And so that was why Jun hopped from the table onto the couch, where he situated himself next to Gregory. He put a paw on the boy’s leg. “That would be wonderful, Gregory. Really, from the bottom of my heart… thank you,” he said. “And… and look, it really is not as scary as it sounds. Haru tells me there aren’t even any predators where she’s from! They’re the, er, top of the food pyramid so to speak! So I’ll be back before you know it! I promise. Who else can keep this town in check, eh?”

GREG: The sudden blur in front of him startled him, a hand raising slightly away from his side as Jun hopped across the gap and settled beside him - a fuzzy little black paw resting against his thigh. Much like the gentle hand that would rest across his knee or shoulder in an attempt to comfort him - Gregory knew that even if it didn’t physically carry the same weight, it carried the same implication. Despite the fact Jun was the one in this situation this time around, he was still doing his best to comfort him. To make sure Greg was okay.

His fingers curled gently into a fist, if only to resist the urge to reach out and scratch the small kitty behind his ears - to pull him against his chest and hold him close like he might’ve Calliope or Faith at the shop. Maybe then he could stop Jun from going. Keep him safe and find a way to get him out of his curse without him having to leave.

Lips parted to say something - but the words caught a bit in his throat. Forcing him to swallow that small lump as his gaze shifted briefly to Eomma before it landed back on Jun’s own again.

Despite his furry appearance, his eyes were so incredibly telling. Still the same dark eyes. The same bright, expressive eyes that often told him more than Mr. Moon ever would himself. The conversations the other man could hold just in his looks - from the gentle assurance, to stern reprimands. Even now - he could tell Jun’s words were genuine. Even if he knew there was… uncertainty there. But...he couldn’t blame him. Who wouldn’t be uncertain about going to a cat kingdom to demand your physical form back - but… the promise was genuine.

A week tops.

“...Of..of course. It’s..no big deal. It’s like--...the least I can do after all.” He was still...forever in debt to the other man, after all. Whether Jun wanted to acknowledge that or not. Clearing his throat a second time before offering a quick smile, Greg shifted again slightly. “That’s uhm...that’s good though. I uhm… - I’m sure it’ll be fine. ...knowing you - it’ll just take a look and you’ll be back to..to normal and on your way home.”

JUN: Yes, Jun was trying to comfort Greg, but he needed to hear it himself. The more he repeated it out loud, the easier it became to believe the strange story of it all-- that he would go, do his silly little hero’s journey, and come back in the end. That was how it always went, after all! At least, in every book and tv show and movie he had ever seen. The hero always came home.

Some hero you’ll be, he thought sardonically to himself. But if Greg believed in him…

Jun glanced back at Eomma, who gazed on worriedly. He cleared his throat. “Well-- er now that that’s settled-- I can go over a few specifics with you. Eomma, you don’t have to stay.”

Eomma nodded. “Thank you Gregory. This is very kind of you.” She got up and then reached over to squeeze one of Gregory’s hands gently, a small, tight smile on her lips. “You are a good boy. Jun-ah, tell me before he goes, eh, I want to send him home with more leftovers!”

Eomma went back out to her pottery studio, leaving Jun to talk to Gregory about the second part of his favour-- the most important part, really.

“I just wanted to say-- if you could look after her too,” he said much more quietly. His ears flicked backwards, as the shame bubbled up from the pit in his stomach. This was his job. It was one thing to let the store down, all those customers, and another to leave his eomoni all alone. She was a capable woman, of course, but-- only a year had passed since Abeoji died. He could sense her dread, her fear, almost like it was a smell caught in his ridiculous cat nostrils. And it was all his fault.

When Jun came home, it was where he was supposed to stay, so he could care for her, and his sisters, and Tae-yah. What if he didn’t come back?

No! Of course he’d come back. It was not an option. And until then…

“She might come across as very casual about this whole thing, but I know it scares her. Please, try to keep her spirits up. An-anything you can do.” A note of pleading sharpened Jun’s words. “If you need any help at all, also, please don’t hesitate to lean on Yeong-tae as well. Remind him that he is the eldest son while I am gone. He has to take that seriously-- but not too seriously, he should--focus on his studies too, of course, that’s first--”

The more Jun spoke, the more panicked he started to feel. Best to just stop, and so he did, abruptly.

GREG: Somehow Gregory managed a smile for Eomma as she got up and squeezed his hand - his head nodding gently. “...s’no problem.” He dismissed easily one last time, letting that smile stay on his lips just until the woman stepped from the room, where it then quickly faded back into the same frown that was often etched onto his features. The very one that still carried the worry he held for the older man.

A worry that only seemed to grow tenfold when Jun spoke up again, Gregory’s gaze immediately falling back down to that black cat beside him. He looked so… small. Scared. The ears pressed back against his head, the uncertain movements of his tail. See, Greg had always been good at reading body language, it was one of his skills of knowing when people wanted nothing to do with him, but even better than reading human body language? Was Greg’s ability to read animal’s body language. A skill that became especially important with his job at the shop.

So...he could see the discomfort in Jun’s figure. The… anxiety that seemed to spike through his small frame, only confirmed by the way his words grew seemingly faster before they abruptly came to a halt in all.

Mr. Moon’s request was a valid one, of course. One that Gregory would agree to quicker than he’d agreed to watch the store. It was...a no question situation - but the hint of desperation in which Jun requested it made him nervous too, and in the end - his own empathy overruled his logic.

So his fingers uncurled from his palm as they gently reached out to wrap around the back of Cat-Jun’s neck - thumb softly petting behind his ears as he nodded in easy agreement. “...Mr. Moon.. You don’t have to worry about that.” He spoke quietly, letting his hand rest upon his neck before it moved down slightly to gently scratch against his shoulders and the stiff tension he might’ve held there. “...course I’ll watch out for her. ..Keep an eye on her, Tae and your sisters while you’re gone… - but..” He trailed off slightly, his brows furrowing again as he swallowed another slightly larger lump in his throat.

“...You--.. It’ll just be a week. You’re coming back.” He finished - firmly, even. It wasn’t a question. Mr. Moon would come back (and as a human, no less) in just a week tops. “You promised…” He reminded, a little softer before his fingers stilled in the other’s soft fur. “...You promised. N’I promise I’ll look after them.”

JUN: Yes, he promised.

And oh, it was humiliating, everything about this was humiliating, but Jun closed his eyes at Gregory’s touch and let himself relax, if only for a moment. He hated this body-- it wasn’t his-- but with his eyes closed, he could at least forget that. With his eyes closed, he did not have to be a cat. He did not even have to be Mr. Moon, not anymore. Though he didn’t know what that made him-- if he were not Mr. Moon, the eldest son of the Moon family, what was he?

But Jun did not have to answer that question, at least not in those few seconds where he was not Mr. Moon at all, because only Mr. Moon would have the answer, eh? Instead, Jun got to have a few seconds just to himself. He got to have a comforting hand, and let himself listen to a friend’s kind words.

When he heard a rumbling, like a gentle murmur of rain, he didn’t realize it was him, purring, until he opened his eyes again.

And then the purring abruptly stopped.

And Mr. Moon was Mr. Moon again. Mr. Moon did not purr. Mr. Moon did not need comfort. He had quite a lot of work ahead of him actually. Normally, that work was familiar and routine: get up, do farm chores, open the store, run the store, run the errands, close the store, wake up, do farm chores…

But really, what was so different about this if he thought about it as one long errand, eh? It was bound to frustrate him, as most of his errands did!

Yes, one long errand, and dealing with people-- er… cats he did not want to deal with, and plenty of red tape, but then: home.

Jun cleared his throat. “Er-- yes-- of course. Exactly. One week, and then I’ll be back,” he said confidently, like he’d never doubted at all. “...Thank you again, Gregory. It’s… very…” Jun cleared his throat, feeling the heat under his fur. “I’m glad I can depend on you.”

GREG: He wouldn’t mention it.

Not if he wanted to live, of course - but Gregory was always going to remember the way the cat in front of him seemed to relax. The way his eyes closed and that soft rumble of purring filled the empty space between them. Perhaps if it had gone on any longer, he might’ve even seen the jet-black paws curl against his leg and knead the material of his jeans gently. But it didn’t - quick as it started, the purring came to a halt as Mr. Moon opened his eyes again and Gregory quickly took that as his cue to let his hand slip off the other man’s figure and instead rest on his own thigh.

Greg wouldn’t dare be weird about it. It was a cat - but it was still Mr. Moon. Still his elder. Still a respected businessman - and still in a situation that Gregory could only begin to understand. So he wouldn’t mention this, likely ever in his life. He’d consider that another addition to the endless debt he owed to Jun. Keeping this secret safe with him for as long as he lived, even if the man hadn’t yet asked that of him.

“...please don’t mention it.” The younger man said instead with another dismissive shrug. “It-... it’s never even a question.” And while Gregory didn’t know if Jun could depend on him, ...well at the very least he could try for him.

No matter what he asked, he’d try for him. Which was perhaps why he was even still here in the first place. Mr. Moon had basically asked him to try. So he was. So he too would try with this - make sure he did his very best to keep an eye out on Mr. Moon’s family and his store. To help his mother open, close or anything else she needed in between. Hell - Gregory would have gone to a Cat Kingdom to fight for him too if Jun asked.

“...maybe uhm…” He cleared his throat then, knowing better than to let them get stuck in an awkward gratitude cycle. “...Maybe we should actually go over a few things, yeah? I wasn’t cool enough t’get the summer job at the Market like everyone else so.. We gotta touch the basics.” He teased with a small smile.

Anything to lighten the mood.

[wisteriashouse]

red lights, lilac eyes.

pairing: kamado tanjirou x sumiyuri hayami (oc)

genre: fluff, comfort

word count: 6612

remarks: this was a request by the lovely @hinokami-s​!! i hope you enjoyed it, and thank you so much for commissioning me! i really enjoyed writing hayami <3

Tanjirou is, to put it lightly, uncomfortable.

He can’t place his finger on what exactly it is about this place that makes him feel so. At a simple glance, he can tell that the flooring of the waiting room is made from expensive wood, its surface polished smooth by a carpenter’s hand and covered with a finishing layer of lacquer. Around him, rare pottery line the shelves and tasteful pieces of art decorate the walls, but the opulence of it all cannot hide the heavy smell of sex that lingers in the air, no matter how much incense the pleasure house burns in an attempt to mask the scent. Trying to breathe through his mouth as much as possible, Tanjirou forces himself to calm down, fisting his hands in the fabric of his hakama as he exhales slowly. 

Hayami will be alright, he repeats to himself for the fifth time. Tanjirou hasn’t seen her for days, and every second that passes his worry only grows. He knows that Hayami is strong, and he knows that she is more than able to take care of herself, but that knowledge doesn’t stop the unease that continues to linger -- he knows it will refuse to abate until he sees that Hayami is fine and well with his own two eyes.

A week ago, the kasugai crows had come to the two of them with a mission - to infiltrate the red light district of Yoshiwara. Several slayers had reported rumours of a man eating demon in the vicinity, and both Hayami and Tanjirou had been assigned to eliminate it. The plan had been simple, Hayami would infiltrate the red light district posing as a hopeful future oiran to gather intel about the demon, while Tanjirou would enter and leave the oiran house as a customer to provide backup as needed.

When they’d both heard about the mission for the first time, Hayami’s expression hadn’t changed much, but Tanjirou could smell the change in her mood almost immediately - the sour scent of deep unease and reluctance.

Tanjirou had instantly volunteered to infiltrate the red light district as a prostitute in her place (an idea which had been shot down by his kasugai crow in an instant), but Hayami had only managed a laugh, shaken her head at his suggestion and reassured him that she would be alright. 

She had asked Tanjirou to trust her, so Tanjirou must have faith in his friend and wait patiently - as much as he wants to search the oiran house for her right this instant, it would only compromise the mission. Furrowing his brow, Tanjirou lets out a slight sigh - even if he has full belief in Hayami’s strength, he can’t help but worry. After all, he-

“The shinzo Hanamurasaki will enter now.”

Tanjirou’s back straightens in an instant at the voice outside the door, the leather of his concealed sword sheath bumping against his back. He can think about his feelings later. Right now, he needs to focus on the mission at hand - eliminating the demon before it can take yet another life.

The door slides open.

Quickly sliding a smile onto his face, Tanjirou turns towards the doorway to greet the woman. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he begins, but then his eyes widen in shock when he takes in the sight of the person in the doorway. “Haya-”

“No, it is my pleasure to be able to entertain you today.” The courtesan before him - no, Hayami - bows slightly to him, a finger raised subtly to her lips which are painted pink with shimmering gloss, reminding him of the cherry blossoms that bloom in spring. The long platinum hair he’s only ever seen in a high ponytail is done up in an elaborate up-do, carefully waxed and adorned with tortoiseshell pins, not a single strand out of place. He can’t tear his eyes away from her. “I am a courtesan in training,” she gives him a slight smile, chaste and alluring, looking up at him shyly from under her lashes. “You can call me Hanamurasaki.”

It takes only two simple sentences, said so sweetly, for Tanjirou’s cheeks to burn as if they’ve been set alight. Embarrassed, he ducks his head to the side in an attempt to hide his flush. “I will.” He says, not trusting his voice to say any more than that.

“Come with me, I’ll bring you to your room.” Hayami waits for Tanjirou to rise before following suit, hands delicately clasped in front of a colourful obi. The two of them make their way down the winding corridors, and it’s only when Tanjirou no longer picks up the scent of any other people nearby that he whispers, out of the corner of his mouth, slightly confused. “Hanamurasaki?”

“The pseudonym given to me by the brothel owner,” Hayami murmurs in reply, maintaining her graceful, sweeping gait. Tanjirou glances up at her when he picks up a familiar scent of unease coming off her, sees her mouth pulled into a tight line. “I didn’t want to leave my real name in a place like this.”

The scent thickens, and Tanjirou’s brows furrow in worry. Although Hayami has never explicitly mentioned anything about her childhood, he thinks he picks up enough - the familiarity that Hayami has with the Floating World of Pleasure that is Yoshiwara tells him all that he needs. Reaching over, he places one hand on Hayami’s - the only exposed skin that isn’t hidden away by layers of brocade and silk - and squeezes it lightly in an attempt to comfort his friend. 

“Do you want to stop the mission?” He asks seriously. When Hayami frowns, opening her mouth to reassure him that she’s alright, Tanjirou continues. “I know that you’re more than capable of succeeding, Hayami. But I don’t like the fact that you have to stay in a place that makes you unhappy.”

At Tanjirou’s words, Hayami’s steps falter, before she comes to a standstill. “Unhappy…” She repeats the word slowly, and then to Tanjirou’s surprise, she huffs out a little laugh through her nose, the action completely at odds with her elegant attire and so much more Hayami that Tanjirou can only stare for a moment. “Well, I wouldn’t say completely unhappy. It just brings back some bad memories that I’d rather not think about.” With a smile, she squeezes Tanjirou’s hand in return. “But the fact that you’re here with me makes me feel a lot better. So thank you, Tanjirou.”

Tanjirou’s breath catches in his throat for a second before he manages a slight cough, shaking his head. “It’s nothing.” He says, feeling his cheeks burn pink again and Hayami giggles slightly. “Don’t laugh at me! It’s not my fault that you look so beautiful!”

“Alright, alright.” Hayami’s lilac eyes dance with amusement and Tanjirou breathes a small sigh of relief, she’s smiling for real again. “On the bright side, I don’t think I’ll have to stay here for much longer. I have an idea of how the demon has been eating the girls here unnoticed.”

“Oh.” Tanjirou sucks in a breath, eyes widening as he looks up at Hayami. His hand subconsciously brushes the sheath of the sword on his back. “How so?”

“Its Blood Demon Art is likely the ability to shapeshift, it assumes the form of different men for each woman.” Hayami explains, her eyes narrowing. Tanjirou can hear the clear disgust in her voice when she speaks. “The demon treats the prostitutes gently and showers them with gifts, promising them that it’ll run away with them and free them from the brothel house. The stories get spread between the girls working here, so no one really suspects a thing when a prostitute goes missing entirely after a night.”

Tanjirou frowns, anger mounting in his chest. Giving the girls false hope of escaping this life only to devour them, that’s far too cruel. “What about the owner of the brothel house? Won’t they care that the girls are running away?”

“The house owner doesn’t report it because it gives the brothel house a bad reputation, so the disappearances are never made known to the public.” Hayami answers. Tanjirou can see the way her hands clench into fists under the elaborately embroidered brocade of her obi. “As long as it doesn’t result in a significant loss of money, the house owner won’t care in the least. The women here are just money making objects to them. The demon is careful to eat mostly lower ranked prostitutes, ones that the brothel house haven’t invested much money in training, so their deaths just end up swept under the rug.”

“That’s awful.” Tanjirou says softly. Hayami nods in agreement to his words, before she lets out a pained sigh. “Sorry, I got a little emotional there. Well, as much as I’d like to, I can’t save every woman here from this place.” She looks so crestfallen that Tanjirou feels his own heart throb in pain.

He pats her hand. “There’s no need to apologise for being upset about the unfairness of the world, Hayami.” He tells her firmly. “Let’s focus on what we can do instead, such as making this place a little safer for them by taking out the demon. Alright?”

Hayami takes a moment to compose herself, taking a deep breath before she nods. “Okay.” The determination burning in her eyes is hard to look away from, Tanjirou thinks to himself. “Let’s head to the room first, I’ll tell you more about the different brothel houses I think the demon may strike tonight-”

All of a sudden, a choking, rotten scent fills Tanjirou’s nose and he immediately claps one hand over his mouth, trying not to gag. Hayami’s eyes widen, before her expression instantly turns cold.

“Demon?” She whispers sharply. Tanjirou nods, urgent.

“It’s approaching. Do we engage it?”

Hayami shakes her head immediately. “We don’t know enough about its abilities in combat to take it on right here. The corridors are narrow and it’d be difficult for you to swing your sword.”

The sound of wooden geta clicking against the flooring grows steadily louder, and to Tanjirou’s surprise, Hayami quickly tugs him into a small alcove in the wall by the sleeve. It’s clearly too cramped for two people, the top of his head brushing against her chin and his hands braced on either side of her to prevent himself from being pressed up against her. “Wait, wait, what is it?” He tries to keep his voice level even as his heart thumps rapidly in his chest. This isn’t the time to be embarrassed, Tanjirou!

“The demon might be suspicious of me. It’s probably caught wind of me asking around about the disappearances.” Hayami mutters under her breath, looking over Tanjirou’s head. This action only serves to press Tanjirou’s face into her neck, his nose suddenly filled with the heady scent of floral perfume. Head spinning, Tanjirou tries to keep his composure by holding his breath, doing his best not to inhale the intoxicating scent. “By my estimates, the demon should have headed to one of the other houses tonight, not come back here. I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s trying to find out how much I know.”

“What do we do then? It’ll be bad if we lose the advantage of surprise.” Tanjirou tries his best to extricate himself from Hayami without too much contact, but it’s far too cramped in the alcove to do so. Hayami ponders this for a moment, before she suddenly looks down at Tanjirou with a slightly flustered expression on her face.

“Tanjirou, forgive me for this,” one of her hands cup the back of his head firmly, the other tilting his chin up so he’s looking into her delicate purple eyes, “but I’ll explain later.”

Their faces are so close that he can count every fine eyelash, her breath warm against his lips. His heart is beating far too hard at the proximity for it to be healthy for him, and it takes everything in him to maintain his Total Concentration Breathing. “What for-” He barely manages to get out without stuttering, but before he can say another word, Tanjirou feels a pair of soft lips pressed against his.

“Mmph!”

Her lips are soft. That’s the first thing Tanjirou registers when Hayami kisses him for the very first time, his knees suddenly weak, fingers clutching at the heavy kimono around Hayami’s shoulders. The second thing he notices is that they taste sweet, like the candy that Tanjirou used to buy for his younger siblings every New Year. For a moment, he wonders if it’s simply the lip gloss that Hayami wears, or if her mouth has tasted like honey from the very beginning. Curiosity has him leaning in instinctively to press his mouth harder against hers. More, his heart and mind echo, and Hayami tugs him closer so that their bodies are pressed flush against each other, her fingers curling in the hair at the nape of his neck as she hums lightly against his mouth.

She’s too close. All Tanjirou can think about Hayami, his senses driven into a frenzy by her scent, intoxicating-

When she tugs, Tanjirou’s mouth parts with a little gasp, his own fingers scrabbling weakly for purchase on the smooth brocade of her kimono. Something wet flicks against his lower lip - the tip Hayami’s tongue, he realises, and the shock of that is enough for his mind to return to him at once.

He pulls away with a gasp, both hands clasped over his mouth as he stares at Hayami with wide eyes. The pink on Hayami’s lips are smeared slightly across her mouth, and when he subconsciously licks his own lips at the sight, he can taste her lip gloss still lingering on his mouth. 

He can’t seem to catch his breath.

“The demon seems to have left.” Hayami says, glancing over his shoulder as she straightens her robes, her voice only a little shaky. Thoroughly embarrassed, Tanjirou presses both hands over his cheeks in a futile attempt at hiding the flush burning at his cheeks. He’s still struggling to form coherent thoughts when he catches sight of Hayami’s ears, the tips bright red. 

Did she… perhaps like it too?

Not quite meeting his eyes, Hayami reaches out to wipe at the corner of his mouth with her sleeve. His lips, still sensitive from the kiss earlier, tingle at the sensation, pinpricks of heat dancing under his skin. “You have a bit of gloss here.” She murmurs, and Tanjirou wonders if her cheeks are just as warm as his under the layer of white painted on her face.

“O-oh.” He wonders if Hayami knows that she’s the one who has taken his first kiss. “Uhm…”

Hayami ducks her head, straightening out her robes. “We should go.”

“Oh, right.” Slapping his cheeks lightly, Tanjirou forces himself to refocus on the mission at hand. The demon is still here! He can think about the kiss later. When he turns back to Hayami, she’s tugging at the elaborately done obi around her waist before her hands fall to the side in resignation. A groan of frustration leaves her mouth. “This outfit is going to take at least an hour to get out of.” Hayami shakes her head. “Tanjirou, do you think you can deal with this demon on your own?”

Tanjirou nods, pulling out his sword. Its weight is comforting in his hands, and he shrugs off the drab brown overcoat he’s wearing to free his arms before glancing up at Hayami. “Let’s go.”

Hayami takes him by the hand, leading him down the hallway with quick, hurried steps. “The demon should be having a meal now, entertained with a few other courtesans in training, just like me. You take on the demon while I evacuate the rest of the women in the room.” They stop just outside a sliding door, and from within Tanjirou can hear the chatter of the women, completely unaware of the true nature of the creature they’re dining with. 

Tanjirou readies his sword in his hands, but he can’t help the worried glance he sends towards Hayami. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

Hayami nods, sending him a warm smile that has his heart stumbling a beat in his chest. Taking a deep breath, Tanjirou throws the door open with a violent bang.

“Evil demon! For your crimes of devouring humans and taking the lives of innocent people,” Tanjirou declares, leveling the point of the nichirin blade right at the demon. Although it may take the form of a human, the pungent, sour smell of blood and rotten flesh that clings to its form is something the demon cannot hide. “I will destroy you right here!”

The courtesans next to it scream at the sight of his sword, an item forbidden to carry about in Yoshiwara. They’ve probably never had one pointed in their faces before, and Tanjirou internally apologises for frightening them out of their wits. The demon scowls, baring its teeth as its face begins to shift and morph - Hayami was right, after all. As the grotesque face of the demon reveals itself, the once human features melting away, the courtesans scream again, one of them scrambling to get as far as she can from the nightmarish sight. Tanjirou catches sight of the demon’s eyes flicking towards her, attention drawn by the movement, and he lunges forward with a yell, swinging his blade down before the monster’s claws can graze her skin.

“Breath of Water, Eighth Form, Waterfall Basin!”

The demon lets out a piercing shriek as its arm falls off, thudding to the ground with a wet thump, barely inches from the hem of the trembling courtesan’s kimono. Her eyes widen in shock, mouth beginning to open in yet another scream when Hayami, having kicked off her geta unceremoniously, scoops the courtesan up into her arms easily in spite of the cumbersome outfit and waltzes out of the way of the demon’s crushing grip.

“It’s okay now,” he can hear Hayami reassure the courtesan gently as he stands between them and the demon protectively. The demon snarls once more, multiple arms sprouting from its sides threateningly. Tanjirou counts eight as he grips his sword tightly once more. “You’ll be fine, my friend here will take care of the monster. Just get away from this place, alright?”

Twisting his body, Tanjirou leaps forward and slashes at the arms rapidly with ‘Flowing Dance’, mind furiously doing its best to keep track of the movements of all eight limbs at once. So focused on the battle at hand he doesn’t notice that the demon is slowly morphing in shape once again, eyes turning a warm, familiar red, hair elongating into a ponytail. It’s only when Tanjirou finishes cutting off all the eight arms and changes his grip to slash at the demon’s neck that he realises that it is his father standing before him, looking down at him with a gentle gaze that is already beginning to fray at the edges of his childhood memories.

He makes a fatal mistake. He falters.

His father is dead, and Tanjirou knows that from the bottom of his heart, but he can’t help the way his blade hesitates for just a second - he cannot possibly strike down the image of his father without a second thought. Unfortunately, however, the demon has no intentions of waiting for him to steel his heart and instantly lunges forward in an attack, claws outstretched.

“Tanjirou, watch out!”

In the nick of time, Hayami hurls one of the heavy geta she’d kicked aside earlier at the demon - her aim is impeccable, and the shoe strikes it dead in the eye. The demon lets out a howl of pain, its swipe missing Tanjirou by several inches, much to his relief.

However, that relief is short-lived when Tanjirou turns to thank Hayami… only to realise that the demon’s attention is now on her instead of him.

Tanjirou raises his blade to sever the demon’s head at once, but it takes less than the space of a single breath for the demon to change form once again, the familiar checkered haori of his father melting into a sea of vermillion silk, fancifully embroidered with golden thread. Tanjirou glances up at the new face the demon wears and a gasp escapes him unbidden - platinum hair done up in a elaborate knot, features that could have been carved by the hand of a master sculptor - the person whose form the demon assumes is so stunningly beautiful that it steals the breath from his lungs - its face reminds him so much of Hayami, except for its cruel, carmine eyes. 

“M-mother?”

Tanjirou’s head whips around in shock when he hears Hayami’s voice tremble - the word is strained not from longing, not from surprise, but from fear. Her purple eyes are wide, pupils dilated as she stares down the person before her. Hayami is one of the strongest people he knows, unflinching in the face of terrible demons and courageous in the fiercest battles, and yet, before this woman she calls her mother, she trembles?

His empathy instantly sends off hundreds of warning bells in his head, his grip on his blade tightening instantly. Every nerve in his body is screaming at him that he needs to cut this woman, this demon, down right now. 

“I’m… I’m not going back there.” Hayami shakes her head furiously, taking a step back as the demon takes another forward. She trips on the long hem of her robe and ends up falling to the ground, but she doesn’t even seem to notice in the least, her eyes still fixed on the demon before her. Tanjirou can practically smell the terror in the air, so overpowering that he feels as if he might choke on it. “Y-you can’t make me. You’re dead.”

The demon raises its hand, and Hayami flinches back, throwing both hands up to protect herself.

Tanjirou sees red.

He doesn’t even realise that he’s cut off the demon’s head until he hears a mangled scream and a heavy, wet thud at his feet, the acrid scent of ash wafting through the air. Completely ignoring the demon’s corpse even as it begins to crumble, Tanjirou heads straight over to Hayami, hands tentatively reaching out for her before he decides to pull them back. Hayami’s breathing is still uneven, her body trembling slightly, and Tanjirou doesn’t want to cause her any more distress than she already has to deal with.

His heart aches for her. 

Quietly, Tanjirou sheaths his sword and kneels before Hayami, resisting the urge to wrap his arms around her form and pull her into his embrace. He should have been faster, he shouldn’t have hesitated, he-

“Are you…” Tanjirou pauses, biting on his lower lip before speaking again. “Are you alright?”

It is obvious that she isn’t, but he asks anyway.

Hayami remains silent for a few moments, but Tanjirou can see her doing her best to school her expression, taking slow, deep breaths to regain her composure. After about a minute, she forces a smile onto her cheeks, shakily getting to her feet.

“I’m fine. Just taken by surprise.” She says. Her voice is too casual, too lighthearted. Before Tanjirou can say a word in response, Hayami extends her hand to him. “Come on. I want to get out of this kimono as fast as possible.” Their eyes don’t meet.

Tanjirou has no choice but to take it.

>>>

After informing the owner of the brothel house about the demon and reassuring the courtesans at the scene that the demon had been eliminated, the two of them had been provided a room for Hayami to change out of her disguise. The second they get to the room, Hayami instantly steps behind the folding screen, and a second later, Tanjirou hears a heavy thump - the sound of fabric falling to the ground. 

Thoroughly flustered, Tanjirou wonders if he should leave the room to give Hayami her privacy, surely it can’t be appropriate for a man to be in the same room as a changing woman. He’s about to tell Hayami he’ll be waiting for her outside when she calls for him first, startling him.

“Is there something you need?” Approaching the folding screen, Tanjirou hovers outside nervously, wondering if he should enter or not. Before he can ask, however Hayami reaches out and tugs him in, much to his shock. He instantly clasps both hands over his eyes, shaking his head frantically. “Hayami!”

“Don’t worry, I’m decent.” 

Hayami’s voice right by his ear doesn’t help in the least to calm his racing heart, but Tanjirou lowers his hands slowly anyway to see that she’s shed the outermost layers of her kimono. The exorbitant pieces of brocade and silk are strewn carelessly on the floor. 

“Can you give me a hand? I can’t quite reach the tie by myself.” Hayami gestures to the knot done at her back, keeping the inner kimono in place. Stepping forward, Tanjirou reaches out and hesitates for a second, tugging on the knot while being as careful as possible not to touch her unnecessarily. The knot doesn’t even budge.

“Give me a moment.” Sucking in a breath between his teeth, Tanjirou struggles to undo the knot - his fingers are too big and she’s far too close once again, the scent of her perfume tickling his nose just like it did during the kiss earlier. Her lips on his, her fingers in his hair, pulling-

“Tanjirou? Tanjirou, is there something wrong?” It takes Hayami calling his name twice for him to realise that his fingers have stilled. Embarrassed at being caught off guard, Tanjirou instantly returns his attention to the task at hand, smacking himself in the head mentally. Stop thinking about it! “No.” He answers, and is utterly dismayed when his voice cracks. “There’s nothing wrong. Nothing at all.”

He doesn’t sound convincing even to his own ears.

“I…” Hayami begins, hesitating for a moment as Tanjirou continues to attempt to undo the knot diligently. “I’m sorry.”

Of all the things Tanjirou had expected Hayami to say, this was definitely not one of them. “Sorry?” Tanjirou repeats, totally bemused. “What is there for you to be sorry about?” 

“The kiss earlier.” Hayami clarifies, her voice a little louder this time. When she glances back over her shoulder, Tanjirou once again catches sight of a slight red touching the tips of her ears - something that makes his own cheeks heat as well. “I’m sorry… I didn’t get your permission, and well, we’re not together, and-” Hayami pauses in horror, suddenly clasping her hands over her mouth and turning around in a flurry of brightly coloured fabric. Her eyes are wide as she stares at him. “Tanjirou, that was your first kiss, wasn’t it?”

Tanjirou awkwardly bobs his head in confirmation, the heat spreading down his neck and intensifying in the tips of his ears. 

“Oh my, I’m so sorry, Tanjirou!” Hayami turns around to apologise, looking completely flustered. One of her hands reaches up to twirl a lock of her hair around her finger, a nervous habit of hers that Tanjirou has noticed over time, before she realises that her hair is still done up in its up-do and her hands end up twisting nervously in the fabric of her kimono. “I’m really, really sorry, I should have thought of something else to distract the demon instead-”

While Tanjirou does think Hayami is absolutely adorable when she gets flustered like this, he’s far too soft hearted to leave her in this state. 

“It’s alright.” He reassures her immediately, reaching out to squeeze her hand. At the contact, Hayami’s rambling stops, and she looks down at Tanjirou nervously. He continues to speak. “I’m alright with you being my first kiss. In fact…” he glances down, unable to meet her eyes. “It was nice.”

“Oh.” That’s all Hayami says in response. The two of them remain that way for a while, awkwardly glancing this way and that in an attempt to avoid looking at each other. It takes Tanjirou a whole minute to realise that he’s still holding Hayami’s hands in his.

“Well!” Tanjirou drops Hayami’s hands in an instant, moving to undo the knot at her back once again so she can’t see how painfully red his face is. It comes apart easily now, the traitorous little thing. “As much as I’d like to leave this place, I think it’s too late for us to travel to any of the Wisteria Houses nearby.” In front of him, Hayami’s shoulders instantly tense up, visible even from beneath the thick kimono she’s wearing. Tanjirou is quick to pick up that she’s uncomfortable with the idea. “I mean, I could go look around the area for an inn or somewhere else to stay that isn’t,” he gestures vaguely at the room they are in, trying his very hardest to avert his eyes from the erotic artworks hanging from the walls, “a brothel.”

To his surprise, Hayami simply shakes her head. “There’s no point in doing so.” She sounds tired. “We’re in the red light district of Yoshiwara, no inn that abstains from selling sexual services would survive in this place. I’ll be fine.” The last word wavers, but she continues as if nothing has happened, forcing another smile onto her face. Tanjirou doesn’t like it when she does that. “Besides, I’m hungry! What are we having for dinner?”

When she’s so desperate to change the subject, Tanjirou can’t find it in him to press on with questions and only relents, nodding his head. Hayami clearly doesn’t want to talk about this anymore. “I’ll head downstairs and see if I can get any food for the two of us.”

“Thank you!” Hayami says cheerfully. “I’d appreciate it!”

As Tanjirou slides the door to the room closed, he catches sight of Hayami looking at her own reflection in the looking glass, a hand raised to her painted cheek.

Her expression is forlorn.

>>>

Dinner is a simple affair, the two of them too tired out from the long mission to make much conversation. After finishing their meal, Hayami and Tanjirou both change into their nightclothes and head to their separate bedding, Tanjirou insisting on some form of decorum by placing the folding screen between them. Tanjirou falls asleep first, to the sound of Hayami’s soft breathing from the other side of the room.

And wakes a few hours later to the sound of soft crying.

He lies there for a few moments in the dark, trying to put the pieces of his mind together when he hears another soft whimper from the other side of the folding screen. In an instant Tanjirou has thrown off the covers, scrambling to his feet, his hand reaching for his sword. The scent of burning wisteria incense still lingers at his nose, so it can’t possibly be another demon, but Tanjirou isn’t taking any chances when it comes to Hayami’s safety.

“Hayami!” Tanjirou calls, his voice still raspy from sleep, shoving the folding screen to the side. His eyes scan the dark room, searching for the source of her discomfort. There’s no one in the room except for the two of them. “Hayami, are you alright-”

It’s then that Tanjirou realises she’s still fast asleep.

Even as he watches, Hayami continues to toss and turn on the bedding, legs tangled in the covers, moonlight glancing off the thin sheen of sweat on her forehead. The same scent of fear from earlier in the day is almost overbearing to his nose, and Tanjirou immediately crouches next to her bed, intent on waking her up so she doesn’t have to spend a minute longer in her nightmares.

“N-no… I’m not going back…” Hayami shakes her head, platinum hair spilling over her pillow. Tanjirou pauses in rousing her awake, hands stilling for a moment at the edge of the blankets. “Mother! Enough! Stop hitting me, please!”

At her words, Tanjirou sucks in a breath between his teeth. Anger rises in him, his body temperature increasing as if his very blood is beginning to boil over. He has to consciously relax his grip on his sheath - if it breaks, he’ll never hear the end of it from Haganezuka-san. 

How could any parent do something like that to their own child?

Shaking his head in despair, he turns back to Hayami, hands resting on her shoulders before he shakes her firmly. “Hayami. Hayami, wake up.”

She doesn’t wake, still trapped in her own dreams as she flinches and trembles. “No, no, I’m not coming with you.”

“Hayami,” Tanjirou is more desperate this time, shaking her a little harder by the shoulders in an attempt to wake her up. “Hayami, please, wake up!”

This time she does, lurching forward abruptly with a strangled cry buried in the back of her throat and her lilac eyes wide with terror. They lock onto Tanjirou’s, and she exhales, the sound short and weak.

“Tanjirou?” Her voice is shaking.

“That’s me.” Tanjirou picks up her hand in his own, clasping it tightly - to act as a comfort, a lifeline connecting her back to reality. Hayami only stares at him and at their intertwined hands for a short moment, blinking once, before she bursts forward and wraps her arms tightly around Tanjirou, taking him completely by surprise. 

Her entire form is trembling like a leaf in the wind, and Tanjirou hugs her back equally tight, crushing her against him. He can feel her chest heaving from barely restrained sobs. “I… I thought…” Hayami hiccups and shakes her head, burying her face in the crook of Tanjirou’s neck. “I thought she was coming back… that she was going to take me away… back to that place.”

Tanjirou simply holds her close, his palm resting in her hair and stroking slowly. He can feel her heart thudding through the thin sleep robes they’re wearing.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks, careful not to be too loud. Hayami takes a deep breath, her nose pressed to his shoulder. It’s a long moment before she begins to speak.

“My mother used to train me to be a courtesan. She wanted me to follow in her footsteps.” Hayami trembles, her fingers tightening around his hand. “She had very high standards that I could never meet… and when I failed… she would punish me by…” Her voice breaks, and she buries her face in Tanjirou’s shoulder once again. “I’m sorry. It’s hard to talk about it.”

Tanjirou doesn’t remember the last time he felt such rage. But what Hayami needs is comfort, not payback on her parents, and so Tanjirou takes a deep breath to cool his head, before squeezing Hayami’s hand lightly.

“You’re safe here with me.” Tanjirou says quietly, so as not to startle Hayami. She stills against him at his words, her breath dancing across the skin of his neck, before pulling away to look into Tanjirou’s eyes. Her own eyes are wet at the edges, and Tanjirou raises a gentle hand to wipe the tears away. “I’m here for you if you need me, alright?”

Hayami falls silent, looking at him with those beautiful, vulnerable eyes before she nods silently. “I trust you, Tanjirou.” She says, her voice slightly hoarse with emotion. Tanjirou beams at her warmly, his hand coming to rest on top of her head.  

“I’ll tuck you into bed now, alright? We’ll leave this place first thing tomorrow, as soon as the sun rises.” Obediently, Hayami lies down in the bedding as Tanjirou gathers the blankets strewn on the floor before moving to lay them over her, careful to cover her feet so she doesn’t catch a cold at night. It’s only when he’s tucking the blanket at her shoulders does he feel her hand wrap around his wrist, drawing his attention. 

“What is it? Is something wrong?” Tanjirou asks, surprised, looking down to see Hayami peering up at him with a soft look in her eyes. Hayami only smiles slightly and shakes her head, chewing on her bottom lip hesitantly for a moment before speaking up.

“Could you…” she pauses, playing with the ends of her long hair before she looks up at Tanjirou once more. “Could you please… sleep with me tonight? I don’t want to be alone.”

Tanjirou’s eyes go wide at her request. His mouth opens and closes several times, trying his best to speak, but no words leave his lips. Seeing his reaction, Hayami instantly backtracks, suddenly flustered as well. “No, no, that’s not what I meant for it to sound like! I didn’t mean any sort of indecent things, I swear! I just-”

His hand comes to rest over her mouth, cutting off her rambling. He’s sure his cheeks are as red as hers.

“It’s fine. I know what you mean, there’s no need to say any more.” Hayami buries her face in her hands, thoroughly embarrassed. Awkwardly, Tanjirou lifts the covers so that he can slide into the bedding next to Hayami. It’s too small for the two of them and half of his body rests on the tatami, but Tanjirou hardly pays any mind with how fast his heart is racing at their proximity.

Sure, he’s slept next to Nezuko and his younger siblings like this years ago, and he’s slept in futons smaller than this when on missions, Inosuke’s shins in his face and Zenitsu’s drool on his knee, but none of them have been like this. 

None of them have been with Hayami.

Next to him, Hayami curls up into his side, her hand reaching for his and Tanjirou seriously worries that his heart might just burst from his chest with how hard it’s beating. Trying to keep his breathing even, he chances a glance to his side - and nearly has a heart attack from how close Hayami’s eyes are to his.

“S-so.” Tanjirou curses internally at the way his voice cracks. From the little giggle at his side, he’s sure that Hayami has heard it, much to his mortification. “Do you want me to count some snow bunnies?”

Hayami smiles next to him, an innocent, beautiful sight. “Count snow bunnies?” She echoes. “I thought people are meant to count sheep.” Tanjirou nods dumbly. She’s too close, her subtle, sweet scent muddling his mind, scattering his thoughts. 

“I used to do that for my younger siblings when they couldn’t sleep or when they got nightmares. There weren’t any sheep near our home in the mountains, so I counted snow bunnies instead.” Tanjirou explains in a hushed whisper, careful not to disturb the delicate moment they’re sharing between them. “Ah, apologies. I can’t count very high.”

“I doubt I’ll stay awake that long.” Hayami hums lightly, before she rests her head on the pillow so that she can watch Tanjirou. Tanjirou feels his cheeks burn once again at her gaze. “Could you count them for me, please? Your voice is nice to listen to.”

“O-okay.” Tanjirou mumbles, shy at the unexpected compliment. He sucks in a breath. “Here I go. One snow bunny, two snow bunnies, three snow bunnies...”

It’s at thirty snow bunnies that Hayami moves closer, her cheek pressed against his shoulder as he tries to remember the number that comes next. It’s at sixty-eight snow bunnies that she’s curled up against his side, their hands clasped tightly, her breathing soft and even next to his as he struggles to keep his eyes open and to continue counting.

He never reaches a hundred, both of them lost in sweet dreams and the warmth of each other.

[menalez]

ive been saying that i’ll be posting receipts on the hetfem server, which was also heavily requested by plenty of people on here. this post is going to be pretty long, so i’m putting it under a read more. keep in mind, this isn’t every single wrong thing that has been said on the server, some may disagree with some parts even being wrong to begin with, and this post may have more added to it afterwards in the reblogs. the individuals who have provided me with receipts were all feeling threatened due to knowing how vicious and prone to harassing others the women in this server often are. so ive been sent countless receipts with context, which i have tried to summarise as well. please remember that the point of this post isn’t to call out specific individuals, but rather it is to showcase that the concerns and ‘rumours’ going around about this server were reasonable and true, and to show how lesbophobic and racist this server is (which many have publicly stated before being dogpiled by members of the server). 

first is the zionism and racism in that specific regard. “theHettyishere” is black-diaspora, “Autumn” is probablyaterf. both are partaking in the erasure & justification of how israel is treating palestinians, erasing palestinians proven ties to their country, erasing the war crimes israel partook in, and also erasing the racism within israel which prioritises ashkenazim over mizrahim and black jews.

then they got more blatant and started saying that if you’re anti-zionism then you’re .. anti-semitic ?? keep in mind these people aren’t even jewish 

then they go onto defending christianity

and falsely claim hitler ‘deeply respected’ islam. interesting considering hitler called muslims ‘half-apes’ and all but oh well!  

second set of receipts is the defending of blackface and justification of it. in both these ‘debates’, they literally only present one side and then act like they had a great discussion at the end of it when they’re all just confirming their pre-existing beliefs and using one another to support that. anyways, girlsfrommars had previously come under fire for publicly defending the blackface tradition existing in her country, the netherlands. this is her doing it again after backpedaling on tumblr on this topic, and people in the server standing by her. battleking is bookrebelwordwarrior on tumblr. 

the conversation kinda goes on for a bit and girlfrommars does the same thing she did on tumblr not long before this convo, which was give a “oh ok i’ll reconsider!” which may not be her truth anyways.

next is people on the server saying straight women don’t have enough good representation and even talking about being upset over bi women and even lesbians being represented?? again, autumn is probablyaterf. laughing bird will appear in the screenshots a lot, although i’m not sure what her url is.

idk how to tell these het and bi women.... that lesbians have practically no good representation. especially not as much as het women. there’s a lot of parts of this conversation that are highly questionable. tldr its bad if lesbians or bi women headcannon gnc women as bi or lesbians. also its bad if gnc characters aren’t straight.

this next screen is coming from a het woman so keep that in mind. i don’t know how to put into words why i find this iffy so yall can see it and decide for urselves

she justifies it w this when a couple of members make it clear they find her message questionable:

on a different occasion, girlsfrommars, a white woman, decides to randomly ask other white women in the server what they think about reparations. a bunch of racist white women show themselves during this conversation. please keep in mind i was not the one censoring their usernames so i myself have no idea who these women are, but the person censored in white is emanon, who has a tumblr. i dont know what her tumblr is, but she will appear in multiple other receipts after this. keep in mind this entire channel ends up being deleted by probablyaterf to cover up the racism and prevent the collection of receipts, which you’ll see evidence of later on in this post.

then one of the white women dismisses the impact of racism, basically,

then woc start to chime in (white is the white woman, ‘emanon’)

then, after this conversation went on for a while, a mod decides to tone-police and shame the woc for taking issue with what the white woman was saying. this mod is also white.

“my race doesn’t matter, but i’m jewish” sounds convenient. especially since this person admitted to being white and stated thats why she should stay in her lane the previous day:

back to the dispute between LB and the woc:

remember LB’s tone and behaviour in  the above screenshots as you’ll see how different it is from how she acted when a white woman was being lesbophobic on the server. 

probablyaterf eventually comes in with “both sides were bad :)” basically

girlfrommars makes a non-apology apology about bringing up reparations the way she did

the next set of screenshots is just.. i dont even know what to say about it? yall can see it for yourselves because i think its self-explanatory. battle king = bookrebelwordwarrior, thehettyishere = black-diaspora, autumn = probablyaterf.

then the subtle lesbophobia comes in

this convo was then moved to a channel that was eventually deleted (receipt of that will be shown on this post).

probablyaterf then comes in and says lesbians are All saying the things mentioned above 

then radfemkitten talks about how upset she was and probablyaterf goes on about how this conversation should stop or something 

PAT then lowkey admits that part of the point of her server is to be able to talk shit about lesbians without being criticised for lesbophobia: 

radfemkitten more or less confirms this

PAT basically says “if you think women here are lesbophobic then leave but if you keep criticising what is said then i’ll mute and maybe even kick you!” ok

after this PAT muted that woman for saying that some of the women were being lesbophobic. 

someone showed exactly where lesbophobia was present 

 “straight women should have a space where they can shit talk lesbians without criticism” basically ^. this is the 3rd screenshot where members of the chat, specifically the creator PAT, states that the server exists partially so that non-lesbians can say shit without being criticised for being lesbophobic. 

this was then said by emanon (racist reparations lady): 

then probablyaterf coddles the women who were upset for being held accountable and kicks out the women who called out lesbophobia

probablyaterf deleted entire channels which involved members being lesbophobic and racist for the bullshit reason she provided here, basically admitting she would remove things to prevent the collection of receipts:

this is why she is so confident on her blog about how people can’t possibly have receipts on her server. because she makes sure to delete the evidence. issue is, she did it too late. she then started twisting the story and lying to save face. she removed the conversations regarding reparations, separatism, the accusations of racism & lesbophobia, them complaining about there not being enough good representation of straight women, etc were all removed. evidence:

then it gets even more blatantly sketchy, where PAT basically tells the members of the group to not repeat the drama or dish the details of it, as any honest and open person not hiding questionable shit would do, apparently. 

the details and specifics of this drama were all kept quiet by those involved as well, and those involved agreed to not talk about what has happened in detail.

the bit “one of the members was crying SO MUCH because you called her lesophobic that she almost LEFT HER JOB :(” is funny as y’all can see the situation for yourself up there, she said something and people questioned her on it. this wasn’t a case of a poor defenseless victim being cruelly attacked or whatever.

“a lot of them do tho clearly” keep in mind that there were like what .. 4 lesbians that took issue with the server? and initially there was even less than that.

radfemkitten then goes onto a lesbophobic rant.  

then they changed the story within the server and claimed that the accusations of racism were directed at woc... when it was directed at white women exclusively, as shown above. keep in mind the person claiming this and putting racism in quotations is a white woman herself so. hmm.

next incident is some white woman being very blatantly lesbophobic on the server. several people took issue with it, and she received multiple warnings but was not kicked. keep in mind that earlier, someone was kicked simply for questioning a member on the server and saying they were being lesbophobic. yet when someone is blatantly lesbophobic, they receive multiple warnings and then get away with it. “pinkie the feral one” goes by roxxy, i don’t know if she has a tumblr. notice how laughing bird is comparatively very civil and patient with this roxxy person. 

bi & het women determining that lesbians talking about thinking of pussy somehow implies ‘homosexuals are sex crazed deviants’, is what’s homophobic, btw.

next are when the hetfem server came under fire after TD spoke against it and drama ensued. i was initially 100% for the hetfem server and said those opposing it were being illogical. however, after a while of that drama, some lesbophobia was starting to come out from the hetfems which is when i said i think both sides are wrong. the hetfems took this very personally and proceeded to make lesbophobic comments about how im just bitter bc i dont have a gf or something (altho i was in a relationship back then so lol) and then they blatantly said they dont think het women have power over lesbians. the convo resulted in them full on arguing that lesbians have it easier than het women.

next coming is the hetfem server arguing that abrahamic religions actually *helped* women and how radfems should be talking about that. keep in mind some of these are the same people that mock people who say islam is a ‘feminist religion’. 

next is them arguing on the hetfem server that Nasime Aghdam, the youtube shooter, is male and referencing a meme as a source. they completely ignored the fact that Nasime’s childhood photos make it pretty obvious that that meme was inaccurate anyways. also probablyaterf argued that it’s somehow racist to note that nasime aghdam resembles many other people in the middle east (somewhere im from & where ive lived my entire life). its interesting considering how many things she argued weren’t racist or homophobic, yet noting that someone isn’t a Weird Unusual Looking Alien like she wants to claim is ..racist

the probablyaterf goes on to strawman that i claimed all iranians are clones of each other or smth simply bc i said nasime aghdam’s face is not unusual in countries like iran. also keep in mind the person censored in red is a white woman lol.

henryhetta = foxfur-nadine.

listen.. ive seen women wearing borderline clown makeup in my country. it doesnt make them male. anyways then PAT says ‘maybe im wrong but ill insist im not anyways’, basically.

next is the time black-diaspora posted a pic of my mom taken from my country’s gov facebook page, which provides people with her first & last name. this was brought up on the server. they said i was lying (i was not) and went on about how im crazy and need to get laid. also calling me a ‘nigel’ in one of those screens.

then they just keep justifying it and insulting me. instead of taking issue with what a member of their server did.

so basically “calling out lesbophobia is bad, but posting information that leads to someone’s mom’s full name and facebook is ok, and somehow posting something from a ‘public news article’”

then they said “homosexuality is legal in bahrain” to somehow justify any of this??? as if Bahrain doesn’t have a history of killing, imprisoning, torturing, and exiling Bahrainis that they see criticising the government (which i frequently do) or anything. not like around 200 people have lost their lives for critiquing Bahrain’s government or anything. moreover, plenty of things are ‘legal’ in Bahrain but still lead to punishment. sex outside of marriage is illegal and gay people can’t legally get married, for one. and people have been imprisoned in Bahrain for kissing members of the same sex. but whatever i guess. anyways then radfemkitten argues that i sent a picture doxxing my own fucking mother to black-diaspora. so i endangered my own mother and then begged these people to delete the information they posted, apparently? 

sadly, that is the end of the receipts i have on the topic of BD endangering my mom and the hetfem server justifying it and finding ways to blame me for BD’s actions. so i don’t have the bit that confirms how she explained herself to others and justified it, however she did justify and defend it publicly when i called her out on it. BD was not kicked or muted or anything of the sort for what she has done, and as you can see, everyone justified it and took it as an opportunity to insult me. this wouldn’t have been as much of an issue if i wasn’t from a dictatorship and if my blog wasn’t so political. what BD posted is STILL present on another blog and i could not get staff to delete it, so if the information falls into the wrong hands i don’t know what’ll happen to my mother, or even to me.

next is them justifying allying with the right despite their homophobia, racism, etc. keep in mind some of these women reblogged white supremacist propaganda in agreement with it so this isn’t particularly shocking. christmas begins in november = autumn = probablyaterf.

the issue with this, by the way, is associating with a group that is often misogynistic, homophobic, and racist solely to have a slightly larger platform of people who are more or less heavily for gender, gender roles, and more, sends the message that somehow these are ok things to side with as feminists. yall notice how many ‘radfems’ are literally just conservatives who are against some aspects of misogyny or trans people? these are the people you’re roping in a lot of the time. and this makes the voices of radfems easier to dismiss by the left as well. instead of establishing a space in the left, you end up placing yourself closer to the right and effectively putting the success of your movement to a halt.

these coming screenshots are the hetfems arguing het women have it The Hardest in radfem spaces 

separate event is just some lesbophobia, again.

“imagine a straight/bihet woman wondering what the purpose of a lesbian is” go outside. there’s plenty of that. one idiotic woman saying that about bisexuality doesn’t somehow override that.

more blatant lesbophobia in a separate event. note the reactions underneath the text (all in agreement)

how often have gay people talked about how the stupid “you have equal rights now uwu” bullshit is simply bullshit? this is exactly what men use to dismiss feminists, why do it to dismiss talk of homophobia?

a bunch of white & het/het-passing women joking about making a straight pride or kkk march

remember the white woman, emanon, who argues against reparations because “what about poor white people? :(” she comes in with more racism, and some intersexism too! this is her calling caster semenya, an intersex black woman, a man and using ‘he’ pronouns for her. girlfrommars, the white woman keen on defending blackface, comes in to express her agreement.

then they argue that semenya was raised as a male.. because she refused to wear feminine clothing including in school & because some people thought she was, and thus treated her as such until they realised shes not, a man??

this is more recent than a lot of the previous receipts. i reblogged one post by radfemkitten a while back, and she was so flattered she felt the need to complain about it on the hetfem server, to which someone replied by likening me to a male hippo from madagascar.