#in reality he was not responsible for her execution

[levyfiles]

some people are mad at steven for a moral issue, tbf. regardless of your thoughts on watcher’s streaming service he did still say he has racist and homophobic friends. he still goes to a homophobic church.

I absolutely recognise that you must have been recently introduced to The Pod Clip that the twitter teens who hate him preserved to break out whenever it's a fresh moment to rally hate against him, but I would advise anyone just receiving this clip from August 2020 being passed around with the angle that Watcher tried to hide this. I and many others were there and just know that I have a zero tolerance standard for people who show no remorse or growth when they uplift racists and bigots.

Mine and other fans who were startled by the statement hoped publicly that it would be an opportunity to clear the air for Watcher because the current political climate was just finally examining anti-blackness in everyone's biases and as someone who is mixed-African growing up in an Asian household, I know that anti blackness is and has been a normalised mindset in the Asian community.

But the thing is, months before this, Steven platformed Tammy and her colleagues to discuss how all of us can work together to stop Asian hate and one of the conversations I highlighte back then was how very clear Tammy was that allyship from the Asian community to the African-American community was tantamount to moving forward. That the us vs them rhetoric has and continues to be harmful for both parties. Ryan and Steven were very involved in this discussion and agreed wholeheartedly.

Having said that, the narrative around the podcast ep never had a chance to be discussed rationally. It really ended up skewed because Steven's response to the backlash from that clip was this

I hope that's legible to you. Many people who felt uneasy about what he said felt a lot better and his intention to say something at the top of the next episode would once again, unfortunately, get derailed because Twitter users (some who are particularly loud about loving and supporting Watcher yet constantly join in on the throng of bullying as soon as the tide turns) were adamant that they needed Watcher to post the clip and Steven's apology publicly on their youtube front page and on the main socials, to literally advertise it when the reality is that not many people were watching/listening to the podcast. For what reason would it be intelligent or good business practice to broadcast this hurtful moment so that more people could get hurt by it?

Watcher's response amid the harassment was to release a full podcast episode where they all discussed what they would do going forward to show that they are allies, not just by not being racist or homophobic but by being anti-these things. They showed that they cared about their impact. It was emotional and devastating to watch and by that time, we knew the pod was likely going to wind down. 2020 was already a miserable time and it was made worse because no matter what Steven or Watcher said at the time, the "stans" on Twitter wanted the man fired, they posted memes saying the world would be better if Steven Lim didn't exist, they wanted him shamed by his staff, and for Ryan and Shane to publicly disavow him. Many of these so-called devoted fans raided the server to yell about how Steven's alleged homophobia hurts them, most of them were white and pointedly talking over people of colour telling them "it's not your apology to accept!". It was a blood bath.

And I see waaaay too many of the same faces utilizing this completely neutral move--that of COURSE could have been executed better--to terrorize Steven, to make petitions to get him fired, commenting on his wedding photo telling him that Tammy should leave him, posting those same damn disgusting memes because you see, a whole bunch of people forgot how disgusting and evil this vendetta was to the point where even watcher's socials started to FOLLOW some of these genuinely mean-spirited individuals. They didn't give a shit about a movement or activism.

What kills me--what absolutely THROWS me--is that these same people expect to be able to return to interacting with the staff, attending live shows, buying merch and sending fan mail as soon as the hate tide winds down. All these people so concerned about a statement referencing faceless hypothetical racists and homophobes that Steven never named nor attributed any context for--as he was never given the chance--are so quick to dehumanize and caricaturize real human beings to their faces and they think this is a normal and acceptable behaviour.

You'll have to excuse me, as an older fan who has seen my fair share of normalised homophobia and racism in these communities, if I disagree.

[headspace-hotel]

facts about The Fear, after 20 years of life with her

The Fear is NOT:

an intruder, invader, or some other entity from "outside" You

inappropriate, wrong, or incorrect

a responsibility

a punishment

"irrational" or otherwise able to be understood through a relationship to "rationality"

an "inaccurate" representation of reality

The Fear IS:

an innate part of you

extra-rational—she exists outside and completely independent from "rationality" and does not respond to being judged according to that lens

self-love—her purpose is to protect you and keep you safe

self-sufficient—fear is a 100% whole, complete entity that doesn't "represent" or "reflect" something else

earnest—fear is always a 100% real experience that is exactly as it is felt, and, needing no comparison or reference to any external reality, it is not "dishonest" or "inaccurate"— it asserts a claim about only itself

subversive [not quite the word I am looking for but it will have to do]— is not necessarily beholden to social and cultural norms of what should be feared, how much, and how you should respond. She does not stop existing in the absence or suppression of vocabulary to describe her.

a demand for care— she does not just communicate to you but to the community you are part of; she calls attention to an obligation that this community has toward you, to make sure that you are safe within it and that your experiences are heard and understood.

yeah, so, i've had severe anxiety for my whole life and the way it's been treated and dealt with, and the way I've been taught to understand it, has really fucked me up so I am trying to lay the groundwork for understanding it differently

I think it's pretty fucked up that we're taught to see anxiety as deceptive or inaccurate. Now, obviously the images or projections in my fearful thoughts do not usually "reflect reality," but I have come to see this as...not particularly important?

Teaching an anxiety sufferer to restructure their thoughts to dismiss and contradict "irrational" fear is, in my opinion, the same as teaching a chronic pain sufferer to restructure their thoughts to dismiss and contradict pain with no clear physical source. You might as well speak of "irrational" pain, and pain has the same relationship to rationality that fear has.

"Irrationality" is a quality assigned to fear that is judged by an outside observer, or by the collective cultural biases and hang-ups of a society, as not appropriate to a given situation. This is total fucking nonsense and we should be talking about that, because...well, the first reason is that it implies some kind of fixed standard for what fear ultimately is and isn't for. i like to tell people to watch one of those Coyote Peterson videos where he's going to get a tarantula hawk wasp to sting him, because he's obviously having a strong physical fear response, even though he knows it won't kill him. Is it "rational" to fear suffering and not just death? How much suffering? Sit with that one a little while.

The second reason, which is even more convincing, is that the "rational" brain is not consulted at any point, ever, when a person feels afraid. It's just a response. The fear response is not routed through the conscious, sapient, reasoning brain. And thank God, because if we needed to hear back from an upstairs executive before we could decide whether to run from a lion, our species would be extinct.

Techniques like Cognitive Behavioral Therapy were absolute fucking shit at making my life any better, but fantastic at wrecking my ability to identify my own emotions, because Cognitive Behavioral Therapy for anxiety basically amounts to trying to brainwash yourself into thinking you don't feel the emotions that you do. It's a really neat way to develop bizarre psychosomatic symptoms and start experiencing anxiety through constant body pain, swollen lymph nodes, and digestive issues.

For an institution that pathologizes having "alters," psychiatry sure loves to encourage a suffering person to view normal and ultimately good parts of themselves as distinct, intruding entities to be shoved in a closet somewhere.

And yes. Fear is ultimately a good part of you, a part of you that loves you.

What began to set me free was feeling that acid terror and sickness and rage course through my body and realizing—really realizing—that I was being illuminated with this ancient, powerful force driving me to LIVE.

I want us to make it. I want you to live.

And you know what, I want me to live too.

I abandoned the doctrine of calming down—Lord knows it had never worked anyway—and started really just exploring and existing in the Fear.

How did that feel? Bad. Very very very very very bad and really not productive or helpful at all initially. Which was unavoidable. Necessary. She had been frantically clawing to communicate with me for so long, and I had been shutting her away, silencing her, resenting her presence in my psyche. I started trying to show gratitude toward the signals my body gave me. I started trying to show gratitude toward her—and i guess the Fear was a Her now, this just seemed more respectful.

And it seemed like nothing happened, but several things happened.

I stopped searching for validation. That was a big one. At some point I just...stopped needing a "reason" or justification for the fear I felt (trauma???? neurodivergence???? neurodivergence trauma????) and the fact that I experienced it became completely sufficient and satisfying to me. So much guilt and confusion disappeared.

I also became steadily more confident about my own boundaries, particularly in regards to recovery.

It's awful now that I think about it, but I think I felt this sense of almost moral obligation towards "recovery," as if I needed to "overcome fear" to be Courageous and Virtuous. It made me feel crushing guilt to feel any hesitation about this.

But then this started to change. It became more real to me that was the only person affected by the steps I did or didn't take toward recovery, and there was no moral dimension to it. A therapist couldn't put me in a box I wouldn't willingly go into.

Freedom from these judgmental frameworks is really important to me. I think that I always hated the idea of getting "better" because it seemed like "better" would mean just getting better at submitting to things I was afraid of while everything felt just as bad as it always did on the inside.

And on some level—even though I could never put it into words at the time—I violently hated the idea of "recovery" from some of my fears because it seemed like the ultimate denial of agency. I didn't want to "become okay with it"—the possibility felt dehumanizing. It felt awful.

And I realize now that this is because The Fear represented something I needed to have a right to. Many of my most life-destroying fears centered around things being done to my body, and if I could have pressed a button and been no longer afraid, I wouldn't have, even though it would have spared me so much suffering, because...I needed it to be okay to want agency over my body. I needed it to be right. The Fear, in this case, was a demand that my body be treated as sacred.

I realized that there were many cases where The Fear was a territorial claim of sorts, a demand that certain needs be honored and met—She needs this. This is FUCKING non-negotiable.

And it really...prompted me to look backward on my life and see The Fear differently: not as a responsibility I had failed to shoulder (me?? a little child??? responsible?? Responsible for being brave, when every day felt like facing a firing squad?????) but as a collective responsibility

Because I was not alone in those memories—I was surrounded by adults that saw me suffering, and often dismissed, ignored or ridiculed it. The Fear grew larger and larger; why?—to protect me. Because teachers, nurses, doctors, and camp counselors did not do any of the thousand thousand things they could have done to make that little girl feel safe. Because my well-meaning parents praised me when I was "brave" but I, a little kid, literally couldn't communicate how awful it always felt.

The Fear was not there to torture me. The Fear was and is doing her best to keep me safe. It's not wrong, there's no need for guilt. It just is.

It doesn't feel good. But maybe one day it will feel better.

[ellaa-writes]

konig and the reader are roommates; best friends with a slight attraction to each other. reader decides to go out clubbing with some girlfriends, showing off her tight dress to konig before leaving— which ultimately arouses him hardly ;))

konig let’s his dick get the best of him and goes through the readers pantie drawer (#pantiekink) and goes back to his room, jerking himself off to the reader’s panties.. and boom reader comes back early and catches him.

(show your post about writers block, though you could execute this idea perfectly)

So sorry this took so long to write. This ask was sent back in November. I got a little carried away while writing this. Love this prompt so much! Thank you for sending it in and hope you enjoy :) (not proofread) PART 2

⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆♕⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆

After a long week of writing essays, listening while your professors drone on and on and spending every waking second studying or working your part time job. Simply to say you were beat and exhausted. Wanting nothing more than to stay in, catch up on some z's and possible a few episodes of your new favourite show.

But atlas you received a last minute text from your BFF.

I'm picking you up at 8, better look cute.

Throwing yourself back on your bed, letting out a loud huff. Knowing damn well you won't be able to say no to her. A soft knock against the frame of the door brought your attention back to reality.

He was tall, brooding and all to yummy, as your friends say. Your roommate König stood in the doorway, taking up all the space. His head reaching right to the top of the frame.

"Hey, didn't here you come in." you said sitting up. You kicked your shoes off and began typing back your response.

"Got plans?" he inquired. Leaning into the frame, crossing his over his chest. Making every muscle tighten and bulge just how you like it.

"Hmm, Kate's dragging me to some bar most likely." you replied to him. "I better get ready now, knowing her she'll show up early." it wasn't a surprise that your friend group loved to show up at your place. They all loved to sit around and ogle your roommate.

After answering an ad in the university student paper, you found yourself being shown around a decently sized 2 bedroom apartment only a block away from campus. It was too good to be true and too good to pass up. The landlord explaining that the first room was already rented out. You didn't mind sharing with a male, he seemed more than tidy. And you needed away from the awful university dorm rooms.

First meeting König, that was one for the books. After hauling your belongings up the 3 flights of stairs. Of course the elevator would break the day your were moving in. Struggling to get the key in the door, only to be greeted by a 6'7 and 270 lbs man standing bare cheated in the kitchen. You damn nearly fell over. Needing a moment to catch your breath.

Kate went on and on for weeks about him. Telling you if you didn't make a move she will. You had to remind her she had a long term boyfriend and you were seeing someone at the time, which soon fizzled out.

"I don't understand why you never say no to her." he tried to rationalize. You pushed passed him on your way to the shared bathroom.

"It's better today yes than listen to her complain." you told him back. Shutting the door before he could say anymore.

You took a quick shower, making sure to shave every nook and cranny. Layering yourself in body butter and making sure to spritz extra perfume. You choose to leave your hair straight, and simple makeup.

Tapping your foot against the aged wood floor, having a hard time decided between a short tight black dress or to go more casual in shorts and a cute top.

"Go with the dress." König voice reached you from your door. Startling you out of your thought, causing you to drop the dress onto the floor. König walked right in, bending down to the floor and retrieving the skimpy black dress. Still on his knees he held it up for you to grab, his head was so close to your core which was now pulsing with desire. You cheeks were flushed as you snatched it out of his grasp.

"Thanks.." you said hesitantly, turning away from him. He left you in silence, closing the door on his way out. You pulled out matching pair of lace lingerie, the ones you buried deep in your dresser. A gift from Kate, you've never worn them so todays that day you do.

You took a deep breath before stepping out into the shared common area, König's attention was on the football (American soccer) game. The click of your heels drawing his attention away. You stood their, twirling your fingers around. Shrinking under his lustful gaze. König cleared his throat, adjusting himself in his pants.

"How do I look?" you asked bashfully, the heat of your blush rising up from chest and across your face. "You look...." he was lost for words, the way the dress hugged every curve. "You look beautiful." he stood from his seat, the fabric over his crotch pulling tight against his throbbing cock. He knew he shouldn't be having these thoughts about you.

But he couldn't help himself. From the moment he set eyes on you, he was entranced.

"Give me a little spin." he commanded. Taking two long strides, taking your hand into his and giving you a little twirl. The giggle that came out of your mouth went straight to his cock.

Bzzz BZZZZZZ

The apartment buzzer rang through the space, pulling yourself away you rushed to the com system. "I'll be right down." you yelled through it. Hearing a mixture of garble coming from the other end.

"I'll probably be home late, if not I might crash at Kate's. I'll try not to wake you." the words rushed out of you as you ran around grabbing the last minute items before shuffling out the door.

König didn't get a goodbye in, or a have fun. The pit of jealously boiling up in his stomach stopped him. He watched from the livingroom as you bundled into Kate's car, watching the tail lights disappear down the street. He turned his attention back to his football game. But he couldn't focus, the ache of his cock kept plaguing his thoughts.

Usually he reserved himself to either his or the shower. But he couldn't help himself, pulling out his throbbing cock. It was already hard as a rock, the tip angry and leaking just a bit. The first few strokes had him holding his breath. He needed more, abandoning his spot on the couch, dick exposed to the air. He found himself in your room. It was smaller than his, everything was messily thrown around. He made his way right to your panties drawer, digging in the back to find the black lace panties you hid.

He came back empty handed, the thought of you wearing them under the dress had his cock leaking down the front of his pants, making a mess. He settled on a satin pair, purple in color with a small rose in the front.

Seating himself back on the couch, panties wrapped tight around his member. Stroking himself with you panties, using his knuckles to muffle out his wonton moans. He was too focused on the duty at hand. He didn't hear the door unlocking and the soft click of your heals.

You walked down the hall towards the shared living area, seeing König still on the couch. Pulling the straps of your heels off you let the loudly clank to the floor. You were a little iratated but also thankful that the night didn't go as planned.

König's head shot around, eyes wide in horror to seeing you standing behind him. If you didn't know better, it was like you caught him in the middle of something. The closer you got, you understood why.

Konig had your favourite pair of panties in his fist. His leaking tip poking out the top, as fast as it happened he through a pillow over his lap to block your view.

Stumbling backwards you rushed out some apologies. Babbling on about giving him some space.

König didn't want space at all, he wanted you. His hungry eyes watching has the hem of your dress rose up your thighs, just about exposing you ass. He stood quickly, following you into your room.

"I'm so sorry." you kept repeating. The heat of the embrassment flushed on your face. König stood there, cock out as he tried to get you to look at him.

"OMG!" you screamed, quickly averting your eyes. "Doll look at me." he tried to get you to face him but you couldn't. "Can you please put it away at least." he found your question amusing. "Why? Does it scare you?" he asked back. You scoffed at him, but deep down it did just a little.

Yes you've seen a handful of cocks before but none of them compared to König's.

"No." you said quietly.

"Why don't you touch it a bit, it won't bite." he took a small step towards you. Your stained panties still in his hand.

⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆♕⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆

LMFAO ok he got a little pervy at the end. I kinda want to make a part two now.

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

To put an extra angsty spin on the assistant au, how about a tangential AU where canon Kara is returned to assistant status after Crisis, and finds herself at L-Corp bringing Lena coffee-- a Lena who did not retain her memories.

And what if, maybe, in this new reality, before Kara is plopped into it, their relationship even as boss/assistant wasn't rosy?

For example, maybe Kara sees this shitty situation as a way to build a new friendship with Lena-- bringing her all her secret favorite snacks, making small jokes, generally being nice. But when Lena calls her on it, her confusion isn't soft, but sharp.

"Whatever you're doing," Lena drawls one day as Kara is walking from the office after voicing a quip she thinks is perfectly innocent, "knock it off."

Kara balks. "What-- what do you mean?"

"We've never bothered with any pretext between us," Lena remarks, leaning one arm on her desk. "You consider a Luthor like myself to be barely a step up from a snake in the grass, and I give you a paycheck so long as you continue to execute your role well. Which you have."

Kara's chin wags, her mouth gaping slightly as she searches for a response. Lena doesn't wait for one.

"But whatever... *this* has been," Lena waves between them, "don't insult either of us by thinking it's necessary or wanted. Continue to perform, and we won't have any issues."

Green eyes skewer Kara to the spot.

"Are we clear?"

Kara swallows thickly. She nods. "Crystal."

Lena returns the nod, accepting the response and dismissing her in one gesture.

Retreating from the office, Kara swerves her desk to make a beeline for the bathroom. This new Lena had been frosty since the reset, but to know that Kara herself (or some version of her, at least) had helped contribute to it breaks her heart.

She hides in a bathroom stall, doing her best to stave off the tears burning against her eyes. She can't go back to her desk like this, can't let Lena see her like this.

Like she cares.

Except she does. She always has, from the moment they first met almost four years ago. Even when she tried to pretend she didn't, when the pain got too much for her to bear.

Not for the first time since Lex rewrote the world, Kara doesn't know what to do. He's turned Kara into someone she's not-- someone cold and hard-hearted, someone who could hate a woman while still accepting money from her.

Kara grinds her teeth at the thought, and screws her lips together.

No. That's what Lex may have written her to be, but she doesn't have to be that person. Lex doesn't control her. He doesn't seem to control Lena either, despite her altered memories. That means, however hard Kara has to work to make it happen, she and Lena *can* still be friends.

And they will, Kara vows as she angrily balls up her handful of tissue and slams out of the stall.

Even if it's the last thing she'll do.

[keegsmcclue]

I'll never get over the implications of zoro sacrificing himself for luffy and the full scope of that.

Like

It's WILD.

Cause Luffy -- he's unconscious. He doesn't even know Kuma was there. And we'd never met Kuma till he shows up after luffy has already stretched himself to his absolute limit and passed out to recover in the belief he and everyone was safe.

Then we have Zoro, who flat out told Luffy, if he gets in the way of his dreams, he'll force Luffy to commit hara kiri, which according to Google, is ritual suicide by disembowelment with a sword. It was formerly practiced in Japan by samurai as an honorable alternative to disgrace or execution. That's the stipulation he joins the crew with.

And like, yeah, after Mihawk slices him and tells him to live, to get stronger, so that one day Zoro may surpass him, Zoro doesny really acknowledged that. Instead, his only response is to pick up Wado Ichimonji, the sword of his long dead friend and of which he made his inital vow of becoming the world's greatest swordsman, to carry on kunia's dream in her honor, Zoro then proceeds to swear to never lose again because it's be embarrassing for Luffy as Pirate King.

And this whole scene is wild as well, because mans was basically on deaths door and all he could think about was how it'd disgrace luffy is he lost again. Like???

But this scene, it makes it apparent that Zoro's dream isn't just for himself and Kunia, it's shared by Luffy now as well.

Which, we know Luffy. Every crew members dream is a dream Luffy takes on as personally as his own. He shoulders those dreams and the weight of making them a reality as seriously as his own dream of becoming king of the pirates. Their dreams are Luffy's now too.

This is different than that tho. Because while the dream was shouldered by Luffy, it was still for Zoro's own like... fullflillment? Idk how to convey it. It was still wholy Zoro's, it belonged to Zoro. But by saying it'd be embarrassing for Luffy, or a disappointment, for Zoro to lose again before he becomes world's greatest swordsman-- it's now theirs in a way it wasn't. He's not JUST becoming the world's greatest swordsman, he's becoming the world's greatest swordsman because it's what Luffy deserves. He's becoming the world's greatest swordsman because Luffy's gonna be King of the Pirates and for Zoro to give him anything less than the world's greatest swordsman is a disappointment.

But that's still -- becoming the world's greatest swordsman is still his... the most important thing to him. He just has another reason besides Kunia and himself now. But you still don't get the sense that like... I dont think the zoro who loses to mihawk would be willing to sacrifice himself on the way zoro on thriller bark did.

Because while Zoro has never been afraid of dying, that was because he'd rather die trying to become the world's greatest swordsman then to not have tried at all. It's a mindset he shares with Luffy. This all or nothing mentality, right?

Neither of them have ever been afraid of dying as long as it's in pursuit of their dream.

But in Thriller Bark, he's not dying in pursuit of his dream. When he offers his head in exchange for Luffy's, he's effectively saying goodbye at ever achieving it, actually.

And he knows that, and you can see it jn the way he lays his swords down, because what use does he have for them if he's dead?

Kuma even says it here, "You have such an ambition, and yet you're saying that you're willing to take his man's place?"

He's not just offering his life in exchange for Luffy's, it's his dream he's exchanging too.

In doing this, it's made known that Luffy now holds more importance over Zoro's life, his swords, and his dreams.

Because this act, this sacrifice he makes, him dying in this way, isn't in service of dream and ambition, it's in service to his captain and king.

And idk how we're meant to be normal about this.

[deliciousangelfestival]

Lovers Say Goodbye | 3 - B.Barnes

Character: soft!dark Bucky x ex-girlfriend!Reader

Summary: Bucky finds solace and love in an unexpected place, only to have his world shattered by a shocking revelation about the person he cared about.

Chap 1, Chap 2, Chap 3, Chap 4, Chap 5 , -

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Please let me know what your thoughts are. I'd love to read all your comments. Thank you once again.

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

A few Months Later

"I just realized," Bucky murmured, his voice a low rumble transmitted through the earpiece.

"What is it?" Steve responded, concern lacing his words.

Bucky kept his eye focused on the target through the rifle scope. "She never spoke much about her family when we were together," he explained, his voice devoid of emotion. "Only brief mentions."

It was true. You'd never delved deep into your family life, only mentioning their retirement and love for world travel aboard cruise ships. Back then, Bucky had harbored anxieties about being accepted by your parents, worried they would disapprove of their relationship.

However, the truth's unveiling didn't erase the raw pain in his eyes. Instead, it sparked a chilling realization: you were equals. Both of you are masters of the deceptive game.

"Well, something must have smitten you good," Steve chuckled, attempting to lighten the mood.

Bucky's response was devoid of humor. "Sex. Good sex."

"Hey!" Steve exclaimed through the earpiece. "No need to get graphic with me."

A phantom sensation washed over Bucky, a memory of your touch. He recalled the caress of your fingers on his skin, the warmth of your breath against his neck, the intimacy of your body pressed against his. His mind fixated on a specific detail - the strength evident in your legs wrapped around his hips.

Bucky wondered, was the pleasure mutual? Did the experience hold the same significance for you, or was it just another masterful performance?

"Such a shame," he muttered, the bittersweet memory turning to ash in his mouth. "Good memories turned to ashes."

His words were cut short by the sharp crack of the rifle firing. Steve, observing the scene through a remote monitor, cheered. "Bullseye!" he exclaimed, the celebratory tone at odds with the gravity of the situation.

Taking lives was Bucky's expertise. His agency issued the order, and he executed it with unwavering precision, regardless of the complexity of the mission. Most targets were simply names and faces, strangers with no personal connection.

This time, however, the target was significant. He had become a pawn in Bucky's desperate game, a calculated move orchestrated solely to attract your attention. He had murdered an informant.

This time, the target was a high-ranking CIA informant, sacrificed solely to get your attention.

Steve warned, "This is a double-edged sword, Buck. They'll know your hand is in this, and they'll know it's personal."

Bucky's voice was cold and resolute. "That's the point. They'll know this is my work. They'll know it's personal."

He held firm to his belief that his reckless act, taking out the CIA informant, would draw you back. He envisioned them sending you to him, a twisted reunion of sorts.

However, reality unfolded differently. His agency commended him on a job well done, their client's debt to the agency now settled. This outcome was the polar opposite of his intended result.

Meanwhile, you remained oblivious to the chaos he'd unleashed across the miles.

You were deep within the isolated European country, laser-focused on rescuing the hostages. The news of the assassinated informant and the potential storm brewing back home hadn't reached you yet.

The adrenaline coursed through your veins, a familiar yet intoxicating sensation. Your mind buzzed with activity, fueled by the thrill of the unknown and the ever-present danger. This was the lifeblood you craved, the constant stimulation that had been absent during the past two years.

Flashback Start

Two years spent undercover in a war-torn country, posing as a florist. A stark contrast to the thrilling, high-octane missions you had always thrived on. But it had been necessary. The previous agents sent to infiltrate Bucky's life had all returned in body bags. You were the agency's last resort, their ace in the hole.

They had given you a mere 24 hours to transform yourself from seasoned operative to unassuming florist. The moment you saw Bucky step into your shop, everything you'd built, every practiced smile and fabricated story, teetered on the edge of collapse.

Your hand hovered near the concealed gun nestled beneath the counter, yet it remained unmoving. Something was different. The usual cacophony of the city seemed muted, replaced by an intense silence that amplified the sound of your own ragged breaths and the frantic thump of your heart. Bucky's eyes locked with yours, his gaze a stormy sea of conflicting emotions.

For a moment, the world held its breath. Time seemed to slow, stretching into an eternity where only the two of you existed. The air crackled with unspoken words and unresolved feelings, a potent mix of danger and something else, something you couldn't quite define.

Your mind whirred as Bucky approached the counter, requesting flowers for a funeral. You meticulously combed through your inventory, carefully selecting blooms that held the weight of grief and remembrance. The familiar scent of lilies and carnations filled the air, a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing within you.

As Bucky wordlessly left the shop, the heavy bouquet cradled in his arms, a wave of conflicting emotions washed over you. You watched his broad, fearless shoulders slump as he headed towards the funeral, a lone figure burdened by sorrow. It was no ordinary funeral; you knew it was for his former handler, the man whose death had orchestrated everything – the death of Bucky's handler, Operation Pandora, and ultimately, your own undercover operation.

Initially, the CIA's instructions were simple: observe Bucky. They were aware of his safe houses near your flower shop, anticipating his return and potential request for employment. However, the agency and you, along with them, had never expected this turn of events.

Your new mission: to distract Bucky, to prevent him from digging into the death of his former handler. While you played your part, Director Brandon and a team of agents worked tirelessly to eliminate any trace of Operation Pandora. It was a meticulous process, ensuring absolute secrecy, hence the two-year duration.

When Brandon called and said, "It's finished," you left. Leaving behind the lingering whispers of a life that had become a carefully constructed facade, you didn't hesitate.

You lied when he asked if you regretted anything. Those two years with Bucky were a break, a rest from the usual danger. But it wasn't real because you were lying while he genuinely cared.

Flashback Ended

You wanted to forget everything, so you took a mission where you couldn't contact anyone. Your only job was to save hostages, which took time, planning, and working together. It was hard, and you got hurt, but finally, your team succeeded in saving all the hostages.

Months later, when you finally boarded the private jet for your return, you were surprised to find Director Brandon onboard. Usually, he remained at headquarters, awaiting reports of successful missions. His presence sent a tremor of apprehension through you.

Brandon gestured towards the seat across from him. "Sit down."

You complied, fastening your seatbelt as you settled in. "Why'd you come all the way here?" you inquired, a cold compress pressed against your right eye, the throbbing evidence of a recent punch.

The plane taxied down the runway and lifted into the air before Brandon spoke, handing you a file. "You need to see this."

Your eyebrows shot up as you set down the ice pack. "Another mission?"

Brandon shook his head. "No. It's about the aftermath of... what we did."

Curiosity piqued, you flipped open the file. Your breath hitched as a photograph greeted you: Bucky, his face obscured by a mask, gun clutched in one hand, a hostage held captive in the other. You'd never witnessed such raw fury in him before, but a deep-seated certainty gnawed at you - you were the spark that ignited this inferno.

With a defeated sigh, you closed the file. "Can't you handle this?"

Brandon's voice held a hint of regret. "If I could, I wouldn't have come to get you."

Another sigh, heavier this time, escaped your lips. "He wants to talk to me."

Brandon nodded silently. You leaned back in your chair, closing your eyes. "Just tell me when we land."

Each passing moment was fraught with tension, the image of Bucky burning into your mind. The weight of your choice, the lie you'd woven, pressed down on you like a physical burden. As the plane soared through the clouds, you braced yourself for the inevitable confrontation, the consequence of a past drenched in deception.

*************

The car sped through the bustling city streets, a tense silence hanging heavy in the air between you and Brandon. The file containing Bucky's photo as a ruthless hostage-taker lay discarded on your lap, the image seared into your memory.

"We have to prepare for the worst," Brandon said, his voice grim. "We don't know what that bastard will do to you."

You remained quiet, your gaze fixed on the cityscape blurring past the window. A kaleidoscope of emotions swirled within you: regret, guilt, and a flicker of fear.

Brandon continued, "You can't do this alone, Y/N."

"I know," you finally responded, your voice barely audible.

Brandon offered a heavy sigh. "Good. I've gathered some agents who..."

His sentence was abruptly cut short by a deafening explosion that rocked the car. The rear driver-side tire gave way, sending the vehicle swerving wildly across the street.

"What the hell?!" Brandon exclaimed, his voice laced with shock.

Adrenaline surged through your veins, the years of undercover training kicking in. "It's him," you stated, your voice steady despite the chaos unfolding around you.

"Damn it! Where is he? We wiped our tracks clean," Brandon cursed, his grip tightening on the steering wheel as he fought to regain control of the car.

You craned your neck to look through the rear window, spotting a lone figure standing on the overpass ahead of them. Bucky. He held a sniper rifle aimed directly at your car, his masked face unreadable.

"There," you said, pointing towards him.

Panic flickered in Brandon's eyes before he slammed on the gas pedal, shouting to the driver, "Faster!"

The chase was on, a desperate attempt to outmaneuver a vengeful Bucky and reach the safety of the agency headquarters. The once quiet car ride had morphed into a heart-pounding race against time, the line between hunter and hunted blurring with each passing moment.

The car lurched and swayed, tires screeching in protest as Brandon fought to regain control. Explosions echoed behind them, a deadly symphony composed of shattered glass and mangled metal. Each boom sent tremors through the car, a chilling reminder of Bucky's deadly precision.

You watched, heart pounding a frantic rhythm against your ribs, as one by one, the cars accompanying them were systematically eliminated. Bucky, a relentless specter on the overpass above, picked them off with chilling ease. Each shot rang out like a death knell, extinguishing the hopes of their backup and leaving you and Brandon increasingly isolated.

"Damn him!" Brandon roared, frustration and fear coloring his voice. "He's like a goddamn ghost!"

With a final, bone-jarring explosion, the last remaining car sputtered and screeched to a halt, flames licking at its mangled frame. You and Brandon exchanged a grim look, the weight of their predicament settling like a leaden weight in your gut.

Just as despair threatened to consume you, a figure materialized on the edge of the overpass, silhouetted against the afternoon sun.

Bucky, his mask a stark contrast to the golden light, dropped down onto the hood of the flaming car with an agility that defied physics. He landed in a crouch, the glint of his rifle barrel reflecting the dying sun as he turned his gaze towards you.

A tremor ran through you, a primal mix of shock and awe. You'd known of his skills, witnessed glimpses of his prowess during your time together, but this... this was something else entirely. He moved with a lethal grace, a predator stalking its prey, and the cold certainty in his eyes sent a shiver down your spine.

"Shit," you muttered, the single word encompassing the maelstrom of emotions churning within you. With a chilling certainty, you knew this was no longer just a mission gone wrong. This was personal.

You fumbled for your gun, the familiar weight a cold comfort in your trembling hand. But your movements were sluggish, weighed down by the shock and the adrenaline wearing off. Before you could even raise the weapon, a click echoed in the air, the sound of a safety being disengaged. It was too late.

Bucky lowered his mask, revealing a face etched with a mixture of pain and fury. His eyes, once full of warmth and affection, now held the hollow glint of a man consumed by vengeance.

"Welcome back, Alex," he said, his voice a low growl. "Or should I say, Y/N?"

The familiar name, once a term of endearment, now sounded foreign, laced with a bitter edge. You remained silent, the weight of his words and the betrayal they carried settling heavily in your chest.

He waited, his gaze lingering on your face, searching for something, perhaps a flicker of recognition, a spark of remorse. But there was only a void, a reflection of the shattered trust that lay between you.

"I've been waiting for a long time," he finally spoke, his voice devoid of its usual gruffness, replaced by a chilling emptiness.

You found your voice then, a mere whisper escaping your lips. "Why are you doing this?"

Bucky remained silent for a moment, the only sound the crackling of the burning car nearby. He took a slow step forward, his eyes never leaving yours.

He reached out, his calloused fingers tilting your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. The touch sent a shiver down your spine, a conflicting mix of familiarity and fear.

"Don't you know?" he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. "I'm doing this to get your attention."

Join the taglist? 🩷💙🩷

@bagoffeelings

@darkofimagination

@starsofcloud

@cherrybubblebullet

@winterslove1917

@thezombieprostitute

@xcaptain-winterx

@namoreno

@sagebarness

@tenaciousathleteoperatorgarden

@unaxv

@missvelvetsstuff

@kjah97

@freshlemontea

@kandis-mom

@scott-loki-barnes

@differenttyphoonwerewolf

@ordelixx

@blackwood-bodecker-housewife

@mostlymarvelgirl

@musicandbooksaremyhappyplace

@charmedbysarge

@rebeccapineapple

@almosttoopizza

@cakesandtom

@njavezan

@thealyrs

@emerald-writes

@fantasyfootballchampion

@sjsmith56

@bellabarnes1378

@valhalla-kristin

@learisa

@choppedgalaxynerd

@terrormonster55

@haciendoquemeamas

Author Note:

My dear readers and followers,

Could you please share your opinions about this series with me?

If you enjoyed it, I'd love to hear why it appealed to you.

If not, I would greatly appreciate your feedback and advice on improving the series.

Thank you!

[princessanonymous]

When Night Comes

Platonic Yandere Vampire

Previous Part | Next Part

First Chapter

14. 𝓢𝓲𝓷𝓯𝓾𝓵 𝓟𝓻𝓸𝓽𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓸𝓻

He left her in that room for the rest of the night trapped with the rotting corpse. The flickering candlelight casted an eerie shadow, etching the gruesome tableau indelibly into her consciousness.

Returning hours later, the sound of the lock announcing his presence, she remained motionless, her gaze fixated upon the lifeless form. Her back turned to him, she whispered, the words carrying a lot of weight. "I'm sorry," the phrase lingered in the air, a hollow murmur directed at the vampire or perhaps at the forsaken victim. She wasn’t quite sure.

"I know you are, doll," he responded with a voice that danced between sweetness and a subtle cruelty that spoke of centuries of existence.

She shook her head, trying to explain herself as well as erase the image from her mind. "I didn't want this..."

"Yet, you have brought this upon her," he countered. A hand rested on her hair. "Do not fret, dear. You have learned, have you not ?"

She maintained her silence, a tremor coursing through her weakened frame. Fatigue clung to her like a shroud, and a gentle tug on her hair spurred a clenching of her jaw. "Did you understand, dear?" he inquired, the softness of his tone juxtaposed against the underlying severity.

A muted nod was her sole response. The enfolding of arms around her form and a head resting on her shoulder signaled a rare, perhaps even genuine, tenderness. "Say it, dear," he whispered into the stillness, the words imbued with a delicate insistence. "Tell me you will not try this again." A dampness traced the contours of her neck. A single tear that wasn't hers.

"I won't," she promised with an apathy that indicated her surrender.

⊱ ────── {⋆☾⋆} ────── ⊰

Dorian cradled her with a gentle strength, carrying her weightless form to her room like a precious offering. He lowered her onto the bed tenderly. A soft kiss graced her forehead. Silently, he left the room.

He sighed as he entered his coffin. Vampires didn't need to sleep, but rest was a welcomed interlude, a temporal escape into the velvet embrace of his coffin. It was here, in the darkness, that Dorian found solace. It was a pleasant way to ponder about the event of the night.

While this might have appeared harsh or even cruel, Dorian did not regret it. She had to learn, he repeated to himself fervently. She needed this discipline, the chilling reality etched into the fabric of her soon to be immortal existence. It was a lesson to endure and remember. She had done this to herself and it was his job, as her parent, to educate her. He wanted this to be ingrained in her mind. He wanted her to remember. He wanted to squeeze out this rebellious streak out of her; to pull it out and crush it until there was nothing left of it.

Furthermore, the woman deserved it. The duke had given them all one very specific rule : to keep her in. Yet, one servant broke that rule, having been convinced by the young girl.

This brought up another matter. Dorian was well aware of (Y/n)'s craftiness. She had coaxed and deceived the maid. His daughter had fooled the lady with charming words for weeks.

The lingering pride in Dorian's chest, a testament to his daughter's cunning persuasion, manifested as a soft smile on his lips. The realization of her adept craftiness fueled a certain paternal pride—a sentiment that seamlessly blended into his musings on her intelligence and adaptability. In the chessboard of their existence, she had proven herself a brave player. Brave, but foolish. Her actions were extremely reckless. Bad behavior, no matter how well executed it was, had to be punished. It was his duty to do so; just as it was hers to learn and act accordingly. 

Eventually, in the middle of the day, Dorian's tranquil contemplation was shattered by a distant scream from his child's room. In the fraction of a second, he was on high alert. He rose from his coffin and marched to his child's room.

He found her rolling in her bed, sweating profusely while muttering to herself. A nightmare. He should have expected this following the recent events.

Discovering her in the throes of a nightmare, he sat on her bed, gently shaking her to wake her up from the distressing dream. Whispering soft reassurances, he comforted her until she gasped awake. "This was but a bad dream," the duke wrapped his arms around the girl, shushing her cries.

She clung to him, her small frame seeking solace in the embrace of the vampire who had become her guardian. They remained in this position for a while. When Dorian deemed her sufficiently comforted, he prepared to withdraw. However, her pleas pierced the air, "Don't..." she sobbed while gripping his clothes harder. "Not alone..."

He sighed with no real annoyance. With grace, he slipped beneath the covers, drawing her into the protective cocoon of his arms. The sheets embraced them both, a refuge against the nocturnal terrors that haunted her. His fingers combed through her hair, his chin found its resting place atop her head. "Do you want to talk about it?" He asked.

(Y/n) shook her head, burying her face in his chemise in a childlike manner. How sweet. He smiled fondly.

"That is fine," he whispered soothingly. "We can simply remain like this." She nodded.

Her lips did not remain sealed for long however. "I miss my parents," her whimper broke the silence minutes later, the raw ache of longing echoing in her voice. "I want my mom."

A pang of jealousy fluttered within him, quickly stifled. This was his role now. "I am here," he declared, tightening his embrace.

In her vulnerability, she leaned into him. The nightmare had done a great deal to her, but Dorian couldn't help but feel a sense of joy. It was in these weakest moments that the girl was most receptive, that he could more easily reach.

He planted a kiss on her head. This was his child, she was his. His to protect and his to cherish.

┉┈◈◉◈┈┉

Imagine being so desperate that you have to seek comfort from that same person that hurt you so much. yikes. not good mentally or emotionally for dear (Y/n). But good for my fic :)

Spent hours trying to find the perfect image for this chapter, I gave up and just put something that was meh.

[yuri-for-businesswomen]

a big german newspaper (die zeit) recently published a more critical article on the so called „verrichtungsboxen“ (literally: boxes of execution; boxes on the street where prostituted women and sex buyers can go to consummate the sexual acts; anyone who knows german will know this is a gross terminology, fitting for a gross concept).

while the fact these boxes exist is in itself a tragedy, the letters to the editor are giving me hope that there are sane people left in this country - even though from their names and writing style i would guess they are of the older generation, pension age.

heinz wohner: „if you dont get a visceral reaction of disgust and shame looking at these obfuscating boxes called ‚eco toilets‘ and the image of what is going on in them, you have to be extremely cold. calling what is being done to these women for little money ‚work like any other‘ is sugarcoating the issue.“

wolfgang wendling: „maybe there are women who voluntarily prostitute themselves, but the majority is doing it out of necessity and under pressure. calling the oldest trade in history a profession like any other is pure mockery. its not an honor to call our country europe‘s biggest brothel. but it‘s true. we should be ashamed that women are being exploited, humiliated and abused before our eyes. the more severe the poverty is in the country of origin, the cheaper you can have them. we should finally stop this, which is the only appropriate action for a civilised country.“

brigitte kosfeld: „the photo of these boxes alone speaks volumes on the inhumane practices hidden behind the liberalisation of prostitution. when the law was introduced, there were convinced social democratic women who were holding speeches on ‚prostitution as a profession‘. the intentions behind the law might have been honorable, but the reality has always been deeply anti-woman.“

professor claudia reuter, phd: „the liberalisation of prostitution in germany has failed in all regards. according to a french study, the average life expectancy of a prostitute is 33 years. babbling about self-determination in this case is inhumane. the state is not supporting prostitutes’ workers rights and their health, but their economic and sexual exploitation. its about time for the swedish model: protection for women and consistent punishment for sex buyers and pimps.“

joachim kasten: „social democrat august bebel already wrote in 1879 (…) that ‚honorable family men‘ were contributing to uphold the system prostitution with their money. according to him, they were generously let off their responsibility to disappear in anonymity. apparently today we are still where we were at the end of the 19th century.“

sabine moehler: „the description [in the article] of typical injuries prostitutes have reminded me very much of those women in physically abusive relationships show as well. a man who abuses, humiliates and demeans a prostitute in any way will do the same to his partner, wife or lover as soon as he doesnt like her behavior. (…) even reading about this is upsetting me a lot.“

and of course the one sex buyer who just had to write to the editors, peter müller: „its one sided to use the misery in berlin street prostitution with sex on public toilets as a reason to debate the liberalisation of prostitution. there are many brothels were the ladies are treated with respect. of course working as a prostitute harbors certain risks - but there are women who freely choose this job, and in my experience, some of them are doing it with passion and love. the regular prices are not the dumping prices you mentioned (5-10 euros) [note: which is indeed normal in street prostitution] but actually 80-100 euros for half an hour - not to mention those dont include extras and humiliating sex practices. i met women who earn better in prostitution than some employees in germany.“

loose translation and highlights by me.

[chiqelatasblog]

CHAPTER FOUR : Some of us are looking at the stars…

-> Ao3 link is here.

-> Chapter Three link is here.

Pairing : Sub-Zero / Bi-Han x Reader

Summary : After the assassination attempt failed on you, Bi-Han takes charge, surrounding you with guards at all times. While keeping a watchful eye, he discovers new aspects about you, stirring unfamiliar feelings within him. This discomfort, mingled with growing curiosity, shapes the evolving connection between you and him. In the midst of these shifts, a fragile yet meaningful bond emerges as you both share conversations about the past.

Author’s Note: Here’s the first bonding moments!

.

.

.

“Her condition is stable, her life is no longer in danger,” assured the clan doctor. As Bi-Han listened, he tried to keep his strength, powered by his emotions, under control.

He couldn’t recall how he brought you here, but when he took you in his arms, it seemed like your last breath was imminent. The metallic smell of blood stains from coughing filled his nostrils, and the adrenaline-fueled pulse rang in his ears.

“But there is a situation that I think you should see, grandmaster,” the doctor added.

Bi-Han gave an angry breath and signaled for the doctor to open the door. The sliding door revealed you lying directly on the bed. Under the white cover pulled up to your neck, you looked pale, and it’s very evident that you had returned from the brink of death. The harsh reality of the danger you faced hit Bi-Han like a sledgehammer.

His hands clenched into fists on both sides. The fact that such a thing had happened in his own house, right under his nose, filled him with anger. He hadn’t felt this angry in a long time. This assassination attempt was also an insult to him and to his clan. When Tomas brought the one responsible, they’d better beg the gods for mercy because Bi-Han wouldn’t show any. The room seemed to vibrate with the intensity of his rage.

The doctor knelt down next to you, pulling down the cover a little to expose your neck. Bi-Han’s brows furrowed at the sight, and he approached as if to make sure he saw it right.

There was a long, thin, transverse scar on your neck, lighter than your skin color. Obviously an old scar, and although one hand was raised as if to touch the wound, he stopped himself at the last moment and retreated. Did you do this to yourself? You didn’t look like someone suicidal; he didn’t know anything about you or your past, but he recognized the confidence of a warrior in you.

Then someone tried to assassinate you. With this new knowledge, Bi-Han’s chest rose and fell with rage. Who, and why did they try this? Although he never knew you, the options could stretch to infinity. But one thing was sure, he was extrajudicial execution against you.

As Bi-Han silently observed the scar, the condescending question he had directed at you about a week ago echoed in his mind.

“You come from a noble family, how terrible can your nightmare be?’’

He took a deep breath and signaled the doctor to cover the scar. A strange feeling, like a heavy weight in his chest, overwhelmed him. Bi-Han didn’t know how to handle this emotion; his anger grew even stronger. As he walked away from the room, the words you spoke days ago echoed in his mind again, adding a new layer of complexity to his inner turmoil.

“Look, grandmaster, we all have our own demons. The fact that I come from a noble family does not change this fact.”

Bi-Han turned down the corridor without paying attention to the ice marks he left behind. Tomas appeared in front of him.

“Did you find them?’’ Bi-Han growled. Tomas nodded quickly in approval.

“Yes, this way.”

“Have you made inquiries?”

While Bi-Han was chasing after Tomas, he tried to ignore the pain sitting on his chest. Fortunately, the anger he felt was stronger and more dominant than the pain he couldn’t make sense of. It made it easier for him to ignore.

“No, I left that part to you.”

“Don’t tell me you left them alone,” Bi-Han said in an icy voice. Tomas kept his calm against the deadly intonation in his voice.

“Sektor is with her.”

When Tomas brought him to an empty room at the end of several corridors, which was small and had a sliding door like every other room, Bi-Han opened the door as if he had dismantled it and entered without waiting for him to open it.

With his sudden plunge inside, a middle-aged woman who had been on her knees jumped up on the spot with a start. Bi-Han remembered who the woman was, a woman named Xiao, medium height, short black hair, who had been working for the clan’s daily affairs since her mother was alive.

“Grandmaster,” the woman bowed her head with respect and a little fear. “I’m so sorry that something like this would happen—”

“Don’t you dare,” said Bi-Han. Throwing up all his anger and rage, he took a step towards the woman. “Don’t you dare try to make that plea to me. You almost killed her.”

“I swear to the elder gods, I didn’t know!” Although the woman did not raise her head from where she was bowing, Bi-Han could tell that she was crying from the trembling of her voice. “I just wanted to offer your wife some tea. She’s been sitting alone in the garden for a long time, it’s been pretty cold for these past few days, I thought it would do her good, that’s all.”

“Because of this, you’ve deconstructed the alliance between the two clans forever!”

“Grandmaster, please. Listen to me, I don’t know how I can convince myself to you, but as the elder gods are my witnesses, I never had any intention of poisoning your wife.”

Xiao lifted her head from where she was bowing and looked up with tears flowing softly. Although her gaze was filled with pure desperation, Bi-Han had already made up his mind. His will was immutable once he had made a decision, he was as tough as steel about it. Xiao must have caught the determination in his gaze, so her expression dissolved a little more, and accelerated the tears flowing from her eyes.

“I’ve known you since you were a little boy. Please, I have done nothing but serve the clan with respect for a very long time.”

“Until you poisoned (y/n).”

His tone held a firmness that rejected further explanation. It was cold and impenetrable. Sektor, sensing the escalating situation, retreated behind the woman and whispered in Bi-Han’s ear, audible only to him.

“If you kill her, we won’t find out who is behind this. She didn’t put the poison in the tea.”

“I know.” Bi-Han’s voice, unlike Sektor’s hushed tone, resonated for all to hear. “But you must have noticed, too, that she won’t tell us any more than that.”

“Bi-Han!” Kuai Liang entered with a booming voice, agitated eyes scanning between him, Sektor, Tomas, and the woman crying on her knees. “Is it true? (Y/n) was poisoned?”

Bi-Han’s eyes met Kuai Liang’s, showing how serious things were. His expression, usually composed, now held a hint of turmoil. The tension in the room thickened as the unspoken truth hung in the air. The woman cried quietly, and Tomas, standing back, looked worried and confused. It felt like a storm was about to hit, making the room full of tension.

“It remains a slight to say that she was poisoned,” Bi-Han asserted aggressively. “If I had intervened a little later, she would have died.”

“What?! And one of us did it, so is that it?” Kuai Liang’s gaze fixed on the woman. “Xiao? Is it true what I heard?”

“I just—I just wanted to offer tea. I had no other ulterior motives.”

Before Kuai Liang spoke again, his gaze locked on the bloodstains on him for a while. His eyes, mirroring the same icy intensity as Bi-Han’s, seemed to pierce through the room’s tension.

“Just last week, I promised (y/n) that she was safe here. Our word is an oath.” The disbelieving reproach in Kuai Liang’s voice intensified the atmosphere. Tomas observed the woman silently, his jaw slightly contracted, and his fists clenched. Your desperate flutterings would not leave his mind.

The cold air emanating from Bi-Han filled the room, causing the woman to cringe in fear where she was.

“(Y/n) is my wife. I consider everything that has been done to her as done to me. Whether you added the poison to the tea or not, you were part of this assassination attempt. You have dishonored our clan.”

“Grandmaster—”

Bi-Han silenced her by raising his hand.

“There’s only one way to clean this up,” Bi-Han’s gaze turned to Sektor. “Do what is necessary.”

Sektor nodded approval, and before she could say another word, he grabbed her by the arm and dragged her out of the room. Despite removing the woman, Bi-Han’s anger lingered. While this decision should have satisfied him, an inner voice whispered that he had done something wrong.

It felt absurd that he regretted the words he said to you. Why should he care about your feelings? After all, everything was just a formality.

“How is she?” Kuai Liang asked anxiously. His brother’s calm expression was clouded with worry, and a frown marked his forehead.

“She will live,” Bi-Han said simply. “The medics intervened, she needs to rest for a while to recover.”

“How will we find the real person or people behind this? They can use someone else like Xiao as a tool and harm (y/n) again.”

Tomas’s sensible words prompted Bi-Han to take a deep breath. Flexing his muscles to dispel the pain and stress climbing from his shoulders to his neck, he moved to leave the room, his brothers following.

“If this news reaches the Tengu—”

“It won’t reach,” Bi-Han harshly interrupted Tomas. “Today’s events were a message. There will be no news from here, even if a bird flies, it will be my news first. Arrange for someone to be by (y/n)’s side at all times; from now on, she won’t be walking around alone unprotected.”

“Frost is the best option I think,” Kuai Liang suggested. “She is one of the most talented ninjas in the clan. Moreover, because she is the same gender as (y/n), she may feel more comfortable around her.”

“Good. Besides, I want someone to taste the food from now on. I can’t afford to make the same mistake again. As for the assassin, they will not stop until they achieves their goal. We will wait for the moment when they reveals themselves, keep an eye on (y/n) during this time.”

***

You slept without a break for three days.

Bi-Han found himself in your room the other day, checking on you from time to time. The first time he did this, he was angry with himself and questioned what the hell he was doing, leaving the room as quickly as he entered, like a storm. Later, when he came to the door of the room unconsciously again, this time he said to himself that he had come just to see if you had regained consciousness, and instead of returning from the threshold, he had entered the room.

After a while, this became a routine in itself; he clashed with himself every time he came to you, but in the end, his curiosity to see how you were got the upper hand.

His visits were usually late at night, when no one was standing. During the daytime, sometimes one or both of his brothers came to visit to check on your condition. Frost, on the other hand, did not leave the entrance of the door to keep watch from early in the day until midnight.

During the three days he visited, each time he found you on your bed mumbling incomprehensible words and quietly fluttering. At first, he expected you to handle this situation on your own. After all, a nightmare couldn’t last forever, and a few words you could slip out might also make it easier for him to learn about your clan.

But as he didn’t understand what you were saying, it bothered him that you were struggling with your nightmares even when you should have been resting. What kind of place did you grow up in? What kind of childhood did you have? How did the scar on your throat come about? The unanswered questions lingered, deepening the mystery of your past and forming a connection that Bi-Han found himself unexpectedly invested in understanding.

As all the questions that he shouldn’t have thought about started to fill his mind, Bi-Han didn’t feel any discomfort about it for the first time. Also, realizing that he could calm you down with his voice was a detail he hadn’t expected. Normally, his voice was found deep and intimidating by everyone, and it could not be said that he was speaking kindly to you—only stating the facts. Despite all this, you were somehow finding solace in his presence.

You’re having one of your damn nightmares again,” Bi-Han remarked, his voice as quiet and calm as the night itself. Seated at a little distance, he observed the rapid rise and fall of your chest, the beads of sweat accumulating on your forehead like glistening dew, and the soft moans escaping as you turned your head from side to side. The moonlight cast a faint glow, outlining the contours of your troubled expression in the dimly lit room.

While your hands were tightly gripping the duvet above you, and the incomprehensible murmurs that were pouring out of your lips started to turn into small sobs, Bi-Han once again tried to calm you down by sighing.

“You’re having a nightmare, (y/n). Whatever you’re seeing or experiencing, you’re not there anymore. You’re here at Lin Kuei.”

As Bi-Han muttered the words, his eyes were turned to the exposed neck. Although it wasn’t very bright inside, his eyes had already memorized the location and shape of the scar. As his gaze narrowed, his voice hardened a little.

‘’You are safe, do you hear me? I know you can. It won’t happen again. So calm down now, there’s nothing to be afraid of.” His words, though firm, held a gentle promise, as if he were guarding you against the shadows that haunted your dreams. “(Y/n), you’re not alone.” It was unexpected for him to offer such reassurance, yet his instincts guided him in ways he hadn’t anticipated.

Even though he’s been doing this for days, he couldn’t help but be surprised that you had the same reaction again. While your sobs subsided, your breathing slowly adjusted, and your face softened. When you finally calmed down completely, your eyelids slowly opened, doing something that Bi-Han didn’t expect.

The room suddenly became quiet, and while you were trying to decipher what was going on, Bi-Han stood still, silently watching you like a hunter among the shadows. After looking at the ceiling for a while with a frown, your gaze directly found Bi-Han, as if you knew he was there all along.

As confusion painted your face, you gradually straightened up, supported by your arms, and gazed at him with wide-open eyes. The duvet fell to your lap as you shifted, and the cool air inside made you shiver slightly. Instinctively, one hand reached to touch your exposed neck, causing your eyes to widen even more, as if that were possible.

“There’s no need to hide it. I saw the scar.”

After swallowing loudly, as if you weren’t sure about what you had seen, you spoke in a voice as light as a feather, ’’Bi-Han?’’. Maybe it was the first time you called him by his name. Bi-Han felt a chill running down his neck, hearing his name uttered in such a naive tone for the first time.

When Bi-Han let out a little grunt that showed he heard you, you blinked your eyes once or twice and averted your gaze from him.

“How long have I been asleep?”

“For three days.”

“Three days?” You rubbed your shoulders, taking a deep breath. Your whole body must have been aching because you’ve been lying down for so long. “It’s been quite a lot.” When your gaze was turned on him again, Bi-Han involuntarily let his guard up. For some reason, he felt the need to defend himself against the next thing you were going to say.

“Why are you in my room?”

“How do you feel?” Bi-Han said, fudging the question instead of answering. It didn’t escape your attention that he didn’t answer, but you didn’t comment on it either.

“It’s like I’ve come back from the dead.”

“It should not be a situation that you have just experienced.”

Against the words pouring from his lips, an expression appeared on your tired face that he could not read. You looked almost dull, your gaze was hard and distant. As an uncomfortable silence fell over the room, Bi-Han couldn’t understand why he felt the need to say these words.

“If your visit is over, please leave my room.”

Your voice matched his in its icy tone. He could understand your reaction; he had touched on a sensitive topic he shouldn’t discuss. Nevertheless, despite being aware of his misstep, he offered no apology, nor did he dwell on the matter. Having just returned from the brink of death, your nightmares denied you proper rest, so gathering strength was your priority. Rising from his seat, just before exiting the room, he glanced over his shoulder at you and made the statement he should have uttered the moment you woke up.

“I took care of the person who poisoned you.”

Interrupting between his words, you asked, “Did you kill her?” When Bi-Han continued his speech instead of providing a direct answer, the response lingered in the air, shrouded in ambiguity.

“From now on, nothing like this will ever happen to you again. I have assigned one of my most talented ninjas to be your bodyguard, accompanying you at all times. Moreover, there will always be someone checking your food before you eat.”

“I don’t need protection,” you asserted, the stubborn lift of your chin becoming a detail that simultaneously intrigued and irked Bi-Han. “I can take care of myself.”

“The real person behind this has not been caught yet. Therefore, until we find the traitor who plotted this, you will be under protection.”

“Do you think someone from your clan did this?”

“Very likely,” Bi-Han said in an honest voice. “But you can be sure that this situation will not happen again.”

***

A few more days have passed since the events that happened. You were slowly starting to regain your strength and come to your senses. Bi-Han never visited you again after you opened your eyes, but his eyes found you easily, regardless of where you were and the time.

It seemed to have become a habit for him. Involuntarily glancing around wherever he was, his eyes were checking to see if you were nearby, and he couldn’t stop himself from doing so. It must have been due to the fact that he was constantly on guard so that such an event would not happen again; he could not find another plausible explanation for this situation.

On the other hand, he actually didn’t even need to do this. Since he spoke to Kuai Liang, Frost had become a second shadow for you, following you everywhere. He could easily see from your body language that both of you were uncomfortable with this situation, but you had no choice but to put up with it. During meals and training sessions, Frost’s absence was filled by his brothers, sometimes even Cyrax or Sektor.

Quickening his steps, he walked out of the indoor training field. It was already past midnight, and after everyone had dispersed, he liked to work with training dummies until he was drenched in sweat on his own.

Taking a deep breath in the cold night air, he briskly traversed the stony road, adorned with a delicate layer of snow. Typically cold, his body now radiated warmth and sweat from hours of tireless work; carefully gathered hair loosened, nearly freeing itself from its bun. As it cascaded over his forehead, revealing the nape of his neck, Bi-Han, displeased with the unruly locks, swept them back with one hand.

Feeling the urgency for a cleansing, he hastened towards the hot springs, the need to relieve his strained body after a day of intense labor. Nearing the heart of the garden, a figure caught his attention, standing a little distance away from the winter garden enclosed by full-length glass windows.

You had a cover on you, likely a blanket, and were sitting on one of the benches in the garden, knees drawn up to your stomach, looking up at the sky. Under the blanket pulled up to your face, you looked like a little girl, completely unaware of his presence and vulnerable.

Approaching, Bi-Han wondered how you came out alone at this time of night. As he came close, you looked at him curiously over your shoulder, wide-eyed with surprise at his unexpected presence. A silence hung between you for a few heartbeats before Bi-Han broke it.

‘’How did you get here by yourself? Where are the guards?’’

“They are where you ordered them to stand, in front of my door.’’ You said simply. Your voice remained clear and calm. ‘’The answer to the other question is, I left from the balcony. The floors were quite close to each other.’’

Bi-Han’s eyebrows furrowed, displeased with what he heard. Although he intended to speak, you explained before him.

‘’Let me explain myself before you begin to get angry. I’ve never had a chance to be on my own since I woke up. To be honest, I felt lonely when I came here at first, but now I feel like I’m almost drowning under the attention. I needed some space to breathe, that’s all.’’

‘’There is no way you could have left without announcing yourself to them; they are master ninjas.’’ Said Bi-Han, less harsh than he had intended. You turned to face him, a side of your lips curling into a small smile.

‘’I trained with my brothers for a while. There are a few moves I know too, grandmaster. Don’t look down on me.’’

Bi-Han raised an eyebrow in disbelief. Crossing his arms, he asked, giving in to curiosity.

‘’What were you doing until I came?’’

‘‘I’ was looking at the stars.’’ You said it, as if expressing the simplest truth in the world. ‘’Since there is a lot of lighting around the temple, it doesn’t look clear from the balcony, so I went down to the garden.’’

A mocking smile appeared on Bi-Han’s lips.

‘‘How old are you? You should have left such childish behavior behind by now.’’

Your expression showed offense for a moment. Bi-Han, not knowing how long you had been sitting in the garden, noticed the flush on your nose and cheeks. He couldn’t understand why you were sitting in this cold to look at the sky. Although he couldn’t feel the cold like others, he knew you wouldn’t sit outside in thin clothes and a piece of blanket for long. In his logic, there was no explanation for this.

Quickly recovering, you rested your chin on your knees and turned your gaze to the sky rather than him.

‘’There is a saying that my mother told me before she passed away, I remember it every time I look at the stars. It gives me strength to remember her in this way.’’

Bi-Han looked at the sky with his head slightly tilted back. Except for a few clusters of clouds, the weather was clear enough for him to pick out the stars in the black sky.

‘‘What is that saying?’’ he asked after a while.

“The people who should be alive are always with us, their presence enduring. For those who have left, there is nothing left for us to do.” You spoke these words with a soft, emotional timbre, each syllable carrying a weight of experience. ‘’When you feel unhappy, lonely, and hopeless, remember this saying: we are all living in the gutter, but some of us looking at the stars.”

Bi-Han’s heart stirred with a sweet pain he hadn’t expected. His gaze shifted from the stars back to you. His eyes, now wide with a mix of emotions, struggled to define the unnamed feeling within him.

‘’Oscar Wilde.’’ He said in one breath. ‘‘My mother liked to read his books too.’’

When you turned to look at Bi-Han, an expression of pure astonishment on your face, he saw you as a little girl with flushed skin, sparkling eyes, and messy hair. Almost cute, he couldn’t help but think.

‘’Really?’’ you asked. Your breath came out in smoke due to the cold air.

“Yes. When my mother was pregnant with me and later with Kuai Liang, she couldn’t move much. Pregnancy processes were usually difficult for her, so she spent most of her time reading books. She liked to tell her favorite stories and sayings from the books she read. If I’m not mistaken, she must still have books in her library. I can give you some of them to read if you want.’’

You blinked your eyes a few times, trying to process his offer of sharing books. As minutes passed, Bi-Han grew uncomfortable with the prolonged silence. Without waiting for you to answer, he turned, indicating the end of the conversation. As he started to walk back to the temple, you called out after him.

‘‘Bi-Han, wait! Thank you!’’

The rustling of a blanket indicated that you had hurriedly stood up. Pausing, Bi-Han slightly turned around, looking at you.

‘’I’m so sorry for your loss, I know how it feels.’’

As you shared sympathy, Bi-Han’s jaw subtly tightened, silently acknowledging the emotions your sincere words stirred. Your approach, different from his brothers’ usual company, felt a bit strange but not unwelcome.

Bi-Han waved a hand, signaling that the matter was closed. He didn’t wish to discuss it further; he was tired and sweaty, yearning to clean up and end the night.

‘’Come inside before you’ll catch any more cold. I don’t want you to fall into bed one more time.’’

[fancyfeathers]

Voice lines about the Cecilia Knight (the Reader)

from my Yandere Capitano x Knight Reader, that you can read here

Jean ”You want to know about the Grand Master’s daughter? She is a respected and revered figure in Mondstadt, even if she doesn’t believe she deserves it. She is the apple of her father’s eye, I think he often gets worried about her safety though. One day though, if I get named as the Grand Master I will have her as my second in command. When she returns from Sheznaya I will see to it that you are introduced to her personally.”

Barbara “The Lady is often seen at the Cathedral, she always sits in the same pew in the back of the church. She is a devote to the Anemo Archon, I quite admire her. I only pray that the Anemo Archon protects her on her travels.”

Eula “(Name) is the Captain of the the Recruitment Devision of the Knights of Favonius. She is like her father, but when they spar be holds back even more than he does when he does with me. Does he really think she is made out of glass?”

Kaeya “Oh? You want to know about the Grand Master’s daughter? Well I have know her for quite a number of years, since we were children in fact. Even as a girl she has always hid in her father’s shadow, there was actually a time where she got so scared that she wouldn’t let go of her father’s pant leg. That aside she is quite a responsible individual, always taking charge when need be, but never taking the credit she deserves.”

Lisa “Lady (Name), I once had a conversation with the Grand Master about her. While she has the Will to do what needs to be done and the strength to do it, she takes no credit that refuses to step in the spot light. That is why Varka worries about her so, in his words as a knight while you need to be selfless you cannot let yourself loose who you are because then you will break. Oh if the Grand Master knew where she was now… *sigh*”

Venti “Ah, Captain (Name), the selfless captain of the Knights of Favonius. The day she received her vision you should have seen the Grand Master, he was practically glowing with pride for his little girl… *sigh* but like him I do worry about her, she seems strong but in reality she is fragile and I’m scared that she will break one day.”

Diluc “Lady (Name)? Hmm… she is one of the few knights I still hold in high esteem, she works efficiently and executes everything to the best of her ability. If only he knights did not have so many limitations, then she would truly be able to work the the best of her abilities. Outside of her affairs with the knights, I know her quite personally, she is probably the person I confide in the most… When she returns from her diplomatic mission, which I am somewhat against, you should join us for dinner one night, she dines at the winery with me quite often.”

Childe “The diplomat, ya I hear she’s the daughter of the Grand Master, the Titan of the Knights of Favonius… though she doesn’t seem much of a giant herself, quite the opposite in fact, but her majesty,the Tsaritsa, clearly sees something in her to be a potential threat. She is currently back in Sheznaya as an envoy of the Knights of Favonius, and Capitano has seemed to taken quite the interest in her. If she ever does become a threat I would love the pleasure of being the one to take her on head on in battle… but that honor will probably go to the Captain.”

[pazzesco]

❣️♀️Beloved Woman

Cherokee Beloved Woman Nancy Ward

Nancy Ward, or Nan'yehi (nan yay hee), is the most famous Cherokee Beloved Woman. The role of Beloved Woman, Ghigau (Ghee gah oo), was the highest a Cherokee woman could aspire to. A Ghigau had a voice and vote in General Council, leadership of the Woman's Council, the honor of preparing and serving the ceremonial Black Drink, the duty of ambassador of peace-negotiator, and the right to save the life of a prisoner already condemned to execution.

The Native American Cherokee The word Cherokee is believed to have evolved from a Choctaw word meaning "Cave People." It was picked up and used by Europeans and eventually accepted and adopted by Cherokees. Traditionally, the people now known as Cherokee refer to themselves as aniyun-wiya, a name usually translated as "the Real People," sometimes "the Original People."

The Role of the Cherokee Woman The Cherokee were matrilineal with a complex society structure. Clan kinship followed the mother's side of the family. The children grew up in the mother's house, and it was the duty of an uncle on the mother's side to teach the boys how to hunt, fish, and perform certain tribal duties. The women owned the houses and their furnishings. Marriages were carefully negotiated, but if a woman decided to divorce her spouse, she simply placed his belongings outside the house. Cherokee women also worked hard. They cared for the children, cooked, tended the house, tanned skins, wove baskets, and cultivated the fields. Men helped with some household chores like sewing, but they spent most of their time hunting.

Women in the Cherokee society were equal to men. This privilege led an Irishman named Adair who traded with the Cherokee from 1736-1743 to accuse the Cherokee of having a "petticoat government."

Princess Tsianina Red Feather

Tsianina Red Feather was not a "Princess." The Cherokee never had princesses. This is a concept based on European folktales and has no reality in Cherokee history and culture. Beloved women and high ranking women in a clan were treated with such reverence, that Europeans assumed they were some type of royalty.

Red Feather was born Florence Tsianina Evans on December 13,1882 in Eufallia (Oklahoma Territory) to Creek and Cherokee parents. All her 9 siblings were musical, but she was the one who stood out.

At age 14, she went to Denver to be trained to sing. There, she met the composer Charles Cadman and began touring with him at 16. She became a mezzo soprano virtuoso. While touring the United States, Canada, Paris and London, she wore native dress, braided her hair and wore a headband she beaded herself.

In 1918, she and Cadman debuted "Shanewis" (The Robin Woman) at the Metropolitan Opera; the cast received 22 curtain calls. Cadman based the opera on Native American stories told by Redfeather. Although this opera had many firsts, it became the first contemporary opera to be performed for a 2nd season at the Met.

The Robin Woman: Shanewis, 1918 - an opera in one act and two scenes by American composer Charles Cadman and Tsianina Redfeather Blackstone. Cadman called the work an "American opera."

Photo is Miss Anna Trainor, who later became Mrs. Anna Bennett. She was only Cherokee on her mother's side, but because it was the woman's bloodlines that determined kinship, she was considered Cherokee.

The title Ghigau also translates to "War Woman," and Nan'yehi (Nancy Ward) earned the title by taking up her husband's gun when he was slain in a battle against the Creeks and leading her people to victory. Another War Woman, Cuhtahlatah, won honor during the American Revolutionary period by leading Cherokee warriors to victory after her husband fell. She later joined in a vigorous war dance carrying her tomahawk and gun.

It was important to the Cherokee that their losses be compensated with the same number of prisoners, scalps, or lives. Woman led in the execution of prisoners. It was their right and responsibility as mothers. Women had the right to claim prisoners as slaves, adopt them as kin, or condemn them to death "with the wave of a swan's wing."

In the Cherokee society your Clan was your family. Children belonged to the entire Clan, and when orphaned were simply taken into a different household. Marriage within the clan was strictly forbidden, or pain of death. Marriages were often short term, and there was no punishment for divorce or adultery. Cherokee women were free to marry traders, surveyors, and soldiers, as well as their own tribesmen.

7 Cherokee Clans - L to R: 1.Wolf Clan 2.Long Hair Clan 3.Red Tail Hawk Clan 4.Blue Holly Clan 5.Deer Clan 6.Paint Clan 7.Wild Potato Clan

Cherokee girls learned by example how to be warriors and healers. They learned to weave baskets, tell stories, trade, and dance. They became mothers and wives, and learned their heritage. The Cherokee learned to adapt, and the women were the core of the Cherokee.

Other indigenous nations were were matrilineal. Women of the six nations Iroquois confederacy (Haudenosaunee) had a political voice on this land for at least 1,000 years.

The male chiefs who are the representatives of their clan in the confederacy of the Mohawk, Oneida, Onondaga, Cayuga, Seneca, and Tuscarora Nations are selected, held in office, and removed by women – the clan mothers. Founded on the shores of Onondaga Lake, this oldest continuing democracy in the world is based on a system of gender balance. The position of the chief is vested in the clan mother, who is the eyes and ears of the people, while the chief is her voice. Women were “the great power among the clan, as everywhere else,” Elizabeth Cady Stanton marveled. Lucretia Mott wrote about listening to “speeches of their chiefs, women as well as men” (clan mothers and chiefs) when she visited the Cattaraugus Seneca community during the summer of 1848 before Mott, with Stanton and Quaker friends, organized the Seneca Falls convention.

In other words, the Beloved and Haudenosaunee women influenced the Women's Suffrage Movement.

[thepastisalreadywritten]

By Leslie Patrick

1 August 2023

Anne Boleyn (c. 1501 or 1507 – 19 May 1536), King Henry VIII's second queen, is often portrayed as a seductress and ultimately the woman responsible for changing the face of religion in England.

In reality, she was a fiercely intelligent and pious woman dedicated to education and religious reform.

But after her arrest and execution on false charges of adultery and incest in May 1536, Henry VIII was determined to forget her memory.

Her royal emblems were removed from palace walls, her sparkling jewels tucked away in dark coffers, and her precious books disappeared from the pages of time.

One of Boleyn’s books that has reappeared is the Book of Hours, a stunning prayer book, printed around 1527 with devotional texts designed to be read throughout the day, features hand-painted woodcuts — as well as a rare example of the queen’s own writing.

In the margins of one of the beautifully decorated pages, she penned a rhyming couplet followed by her signature:

“Remember me when you do pray, that hope doth lead from day to day, Anne Boleyn.”

The book vanished with Boleyn’s execution in 1536, then resurfaced around 1903 when it was acquired by the American millionaire William Waldorf Astor (31 March 1848 – 18 October 1919) after he purchased Hever Castle, Anne Boleyn’s childhood home in the English countryside.

The hiding place of the disgraced queen’s devotional tome had been a mystery for centuries, until recent research by a university student uncovered hidden signatures that helped trace its path through history.

The discovery

The book’s whereabouts in the 367 years between Boleyn’s death and its reemergence remained puzzling until 2020 when Kate McCaffrey, then a graduate student at the University of Kent working on her master’s thesis about Anne Boleyn’s Book of Hours, found something unexpected in the margins of the book.

“I noticed what appeared to be smudges to the naked eye,” recalls McCaffrey, assistant curator at Hever Castle since 2021.

Intrigued, she borrowed an industrial-strength ultraviolet light and set it up in the darkest room of Hever Castle.

Ultraviolet light is often used to examine historical documents because ink absorbs the ultraviolet wavelength, causing it to appear darker against the page when exposed.

“The words just came through. It was incredible to see them underneath the light, they were completely illuminated,” the curator recalls.

McCaffrey’s theory is that the words were erased during the late Victorian era when it was popular to cleanse marginalia from books or manuscripts.

But thanks to her extraordinary detective work, these erased words turned out to be the key that unlocked the tale of the book’s secret journey from certain destruction at the royal court to safety in the hands of a dedicated group of Boleyn’s supporters.

The guardians

Indeed, various pages throughout the text reveal the names and notations of a string of Kentish women — Elizabeth Hill, Elizabeth Shirley, Mary Cheke, Philippa Gage, and Mary West — who banded together to safeguard Anne's precious book and keep her memory alive.

While it’s unclear how the book was initially passed to these women, Anne Boleyn expert Natalie Grueninger suggests it was gifted by Anne to a woman named Elizabeth Hill.

Elizabeth grew up near Hever Castle, and her husband, Richard Hill, was sergeant of the King’s Cellar at Henry VIII’s court.

There are records of the Hill’s playing cards with the king, and there may have been a friendship between Elizabeth and the queen that prompted Boleyn to pass her prayer book on before her execution.

“This extended Kentish family kept the book safe following Anne’s demise, which was an incredibly brave and bold act considering it could have been considered treasonous,” says Grueninger, podcaster and author of the book The Final Year of Anne Boleyn.

Anne’s Book of Hours was passed between mothers, daughters, sisters, and nieces until the late sixteenth century, when the last name makes its appearance in its margins.

“This story is an example of the women in the family prioritizing loyalty, friendship, fidelity, and a personal connection to Anne,” says McCaffrey.

“The fact that the women have kept it safe is a really beautiful story of solidarity, community, and bravery.”

The book, currently on display at Hever Castle, is a touchstone of the enigma that was Anne Boleyn.

Castle historian and assistant curator Owen Emmerson points out that the book contains Anne’s DNA on the pages from where she touched and kissed it during her daily devotions.

“This was a really beloved possession of hers,” says Emmerson.

“Because of what happened to Anne Boleyn, we don’t have a vast amount of information in Anne’s own words. But the physical remnants of her use of the book, and the construction of that beautiful little couplet, have her identity in them.”

While Anne’s Book of Hours has finally found its way home, the research into this intriguing historical mystery is not yet over.

McCaffrey continues to chart the book’s provenance through the centuries to find out where it was hiding all this time.

The discovery of the inscriptions illuminates the book’s furtive journey, providing us with a glimpse into the controversy, loyalty, and fascination that Anne Boleyn has engendered for the past 500 years.

[fibula-rasa]

Cosplay the Classics: Elizabeth Montgomery in “Two”

“Two” first aired on 15 September 1961 and is the first episode of the third season of The Twilight Zone. Sadly, “Two” is the only episode that features Elizabeth Montgomery.

Montgomery was nearly ten years into her professional career in 1961. She had already carved out a solid resume in television, appearing prolifically on anthology and episodic shows and occasionally stretched her legs on the New York stage. Samantha Stephens was still three years away when Montgomery took her voyage through The Twilight Zone.

In its five seasons, The Twilight Zone was a crossroads of up-and-coming and well-established performers. “Two” paired the rising star Montgomery with Charles Bronson, who had a decade more acting experience in TV and film than Montgomery. Though Bronson was the more established star, “Two” is Montgomery’s showcase.

Read on below the jump!

“Two” relies on minimal dialogue throughout and notably Montgomery only has a single line spoken. The role relies almost entirely on Montgomery’s action/reaction, expression, and styling. The episode begins on Montgomery as The Woman wandering an abandoned city. The first nine minutes of the episode pass with no dialogue, with context given by visual elements and Serling’s opening narration. The entire episode takes place on a small section of city street (at the old Hal Roach studios, conveniently already in disrepair). 

We learn through newspapers and magazines that this city is in The Man’s homeland, invaded by The Woman’s nation’s army. Signs of the city’s long five-year abandonment are everywhere, including full skeletons left where they fell. (The macabre element of skeletons is used sparingly across the Twilight Zone and usually in circumstances less grounded in reality than “Two,” such as “Long Live Walter Jameson” and “Queen of the Nile.”) As The Man mulls over his first encounter with The Woman a dove flies up behind him as a symbol of his genuine desire for peace. Through a variety of posters and advertisements, we learn that The Man’s homeland had a culture heavily invested in war.

Collage of the war-related paraphernalia in “Two”

All of that is solid storytelling, but Montgomery’s acting adds an extra something. When The Woman first encounters The Man, Montgomery performs hair-trigger reactivity. Despite The Woman’s dire situation—a stranded foreigner in a decimated country with seemingly no chance to ever return home—her reluctance to trust The Man is significant. Pairing Montgomery’s wordless portrayal of these responses with the jingoistic quality of The Man’s homeland and the notable length of time that the city has been abandoned makes me feel that her feelings might not be a simple holdover of wartime hostility on her part but potentially extended trauma. Perhaps The Woman had previous awful experiences with other straggling remnants of The Man’s military, who may not have been as ready as The Man to give up wartime attitudes in spite of the war clearly being over.

The Woman is understandably acting like a cornered animal. As the episode progresses, The Man tries to be as calculated as possible in communicating to The Woman that he doesn’t want a fight through his actions, turning his back to her, and not retaliating the third time she launches an attack on him. Montgomery, in turn, does a great job of drawing out the cornered animal characterization—alternating between curiosity, hope, mistrust, and open hostility. Montgomery’s characterization gives the role the added dimension that saves the episode from feeling too much like an overly simple fable.

Unfortunately, it’s in executing the fabular aspect of the story where “Two” falters. The opening narration by Serling specifies: 

“It’s been five years since a human being walked these streets. This is the first day of the sixth year as man used to measure time.  “The time: perhaps a hundred years from now, or sooner, or perhaps it’s already happened two-million years ago. The place: The signposts are in English so that we may read them more easily, but the place is The Twilight Zone.”

It’s established here that the location is meant to be a stand-in for any city in any country, and that the use of English is merely a storytelling convenience. So, even though “Two” is intended as a Cold-War era anti-war statement, they are intentionally distancing the fiction from the contemporary real-world conflict. To create further distance from a contemporary place/time, they establish that the rifles are laser guns.

But, then, that one line that Montgomery speaks in “Two,” seventeen minutes in, is “Prekrasny” or “прекрасны,” a Russian word for beautiful or pretty. This pretty much grinds to a halt the concept that this is a cautionary fable and not a vision of a dark future where the Soviet Union and the United States moved to open warfare. While I’ll admit that the conventions used to establish “Two” as a fable are cheeky and a little on the corny side, the episode itself would have been stronger without the suggestion that The Woman is Russian.

I’m not sure who made the call to use a Russian word. I wonder if perhaps Serling wrote his introduction and he had a different read on the story than its writer, Montgomery Pittman. Maybe Pittman intended “Two” to be more of a dark premonition with a twist of optimism and Serling thought of it more as a fable and the two approaches hampered each other in the final product? This is pure speculation on my part of course, but it’s a black mark on what I think could have been an even better episode than it is.

Regardless, I think “Two” is a strong episode and a fine example of a Serling-esque story written by someone brought on to lighten the load of Serling, who worked himself to the bone on Twilight Zone. I also appreciate Pittman’s confidence to rely so heavily on visual storytelling techniques, taking into account that the high quality at which we watch the show now does not reflect the quality home viewers would have had in 1961. It reflects both Serling and the producers belief that viewers would be fully engaged in watching the show as it aired rather than just passively having it on in the family room while unwinding after dinner. 

Elizabeth Montgomery’s performance heightens the whole affair considerably. That’s no shade on Charles Bronson, in fact I think the monologuing he’s given could have come off as unbearably hokey if delivered by a lesser actor.

If you can believe it, this is my very first time cosplaying The Twilight Zone! (Though I did play Rod Serling in a set of sketches in high school. I was as weird as a teenager as I am an adult, okay?) If you didn’t already know, I run another blog called Twilight Zone in Close-ups, examining the powerful use of close-up shots on the show by testing out how much of each episode’s story can be communicated solely by its close-up shots.

☕ Buy me a coffee! ☕

[empressdede]

Disrespectful.

Chapter four

𝒯𝓌𝑜 𝓂𝑜𝓃𝓉𝒽𝓈 𝓁𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓇

This shit’s so good, should be illegal

Need round 2, I need the sequel

Hit the backboard like a free throw

You next level, you a cheat code

Can I by kehlani was playing in her office at a bit louder than softly. She told her assistant Jada that she was in a meeting virtually so she didn’t want to blast the music and raise any suspicions.

The music was to help her get lost in her thoughts, drown out the stress she had to carry on her shoulders for the day.

A sigh of content left her lips and she let her eyes roll to the back of her head, almost losing herself before Jada knocked on the door before slightly opening the door to peak her head in.

London’s head slowly rose up to look at the girl before bending her head to look at the paper scattered across her desk. “Something I can help you with Jada?” She softly asked.

“Just wanted to let you know that Mr. Monroe will not be able to attend to this year’s banquet but he will be sending his executive assistant in his place instead. Should we bring him in next week so that he is properly informed about our plans?”

London nodded her head but never lifted her head, “Whatever you think works. A-and make sure that you let everyone know that I’m not available for the next hour.”

Jada nodded her head and was quick to close the door behind her so she wouldn’t feel her boss’s wrath, if London wanted to be alone then she would leave her alone.

But in reality London didn’t know how long she could’ve played nonchalant before a moan slipped through her lips. Her eyes rolled back again, but this time her hand slipped under her desk to grip onto Roman’s hair as he continued to suck on her clit.

“She could’ve heard me.” She breathed out but Roman didn’t even look remorseful. His eyes watching her expressions as he devoured her. Wrecking the image she fought so hard to create. To everyone else, she was a boss woman but this is who she really was, a slut who was willing to ruin the reputation she fought hard to build all just she couldn’t keep her legs closed for him.

“I think you want them to hear.” Roman whispered huskily back to her, sliding the hand that was holding her thighs back to her pussy, index finger running along the slit before he slowly pushed against her entrance. “You want them to know how good I make you feel huh?”

He didn’t care for her response because his lips closed around her clit again, sucking and thrusting his fingers until the tip of his fingers touched the spongey spot that had her legs shaking.

“Fuck… baby wait-“ she tried but it was to no avail. He’s been playing nice long enough. He slipped a second finger into his and let his tongue lap at her leaking pussy.

Tears were pooling at the rim of her eyes, the feeling was something she could never get tired of. Roman always made her cum, always. And she knew this time wouldn’t be any different but damn was he prolonging it to prove his point: that he could make her cum anywhere and anytime. And anytime he wanted he could get her to happily open her legs to let him.

He was fucking right because here she was, even with her damn assistant in the room, he was hidden under that damn desk eating her out. At the revelation she could ask herself if she had any shame but the blissful feeling of the pleasure rippling through her body made her forget anything.

“I can feel it, go head baby. Cum for me, cum for Daddy.” He cooed out to her.

The churning in her stomach was intensifying and she knew she was going to cum for him. London didn’t really consider it a lost though because this feeling was too delicious, she’d probably lose every single argument on purpose if this was the outcome of it.

The tears that were pooling from her eyes fell as she felt herself get lost in her orgasm. But Roman didn’t stop there, he had lifted himself from between her legs and placed his mouth on hers swirling his tongue around hers so she could taste the flavor of her juices.

His fingers stayed in the same place, slowly thrusting to help her ride it but continuing. He wanted another. London whimpered, her hand sliding down to grasp onto his wrist but his pace stayed the same. “Gimme another one.” He muttered against her lips.

The pace of his fingers started picking up again, both fingertips pressing deliciously against her spot. His mouth never left hers, swallowing all of her moans as he devoured her.

The kiss was sloppy but London loved it. Roman was always so put together, very calculated, she liked that he would get so messy with her. Almost as if he couldn’t control himself when it came to her and that turned her on.

“Roman.” She softly moaned out trying to warn him but her climax came quicker and harder than she expected. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as a loud moan slipped through her lips. Her head fell back, chest pressing into his as her back arched against her office chair and her legs trembled.

The rouse of trying to keep quiet was over, but how could she be quiet anyway when he made her feel like this. His voice rumbling softly in her ear as he talked her through it.

“There you go baby. That’s it. You did so good cumming for me like that, that’s all you needed huh? Wanted Daddy to get rid of all that stress huh?” He cooed and London nodded her head, slumping against the chair.

“I’m not done with you yet baby, we’ve only got an hour.”

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Friday night caught London at Sienna’s house for a girls night. Nora, London and Sienna all sat in the living room with a half cup filled with wine and they were catching each other up on their lives.

Covered in satin pajamas and soft jazz playing in the background to help them unwind from their week.

“I barely sat down in the chair to get my hair done, some random girl ran up on my hairdresser. Can you fuckin imagine?” Sienna recalls her encounter at Milan’s salon two days prior.

Nora huffed out a short laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. “I keep telling you to stop visiting these random salons because you can’t let everybody play with your hair but you never wanna listen to me.”

The girls talking became kind of like background noise when London’s phone buzzed in her hand again to let her know she got another text notification.

Roman: Would you rather Italian or French?

London: For what?

Roman: Dinner. Me and you. Next week, Wednesday night.

Roman had the tendency to invite her out. And before she would decline every outing but recently, she found herself agreeing to go out sometimes.

It wasn’t always, because James was starting to question why she was always going out but, on the days where she really missed him after not seeing him for a couple weeks cause of his job, she found herself wanting to be around him.

London bit her lip as she thought about it; the last time she seen Roman was two days ago when he ate her out in her office till she begged and cried for him to stop, fucked her for good measure and then left to fly out to whatever city he had to be in for work.

They had both agreed that would be their last intimate session. London expressed she couldn’t keep doing it, and Roman respected her decision. What was a harmless dinner between two friends?

“I know that’s not James blowing ya phone up on girls night.” Sienna’s voice brought her back to reality, lifting her head up to find both Nora and Sienna watching her like a hawk. Her phone buzzed again.

Roman: I won’t touch you, I promise. Just miss having meals with you as a friend ❤️

“Damn; can I have my face back?” London retorted, raising an eyebrow at the two.

Nora rolled her eyes, “Girl please. She ain’t tell you she’s been fucking Roman?”

Both Sienna’s and London’s eyes widen in shock. London’s because her sister ran her mouth and Sienna’s at the news.

“Nora!” London exasperated

“WHAT!” Sienna yelped out at the same time, raising her hand for a moment. “Hol’ up. You mean to tell me I helped you sneak off with that man at his wife’s birthday party and you couldn’t tell me you actually fucked the man!?”

London let out a quiet groan, her head falling back for a moment. It wasn’t something she was proud to announce… she’s cheating on her husband with another married man, how the fuck was she supposed to tell her that?

When She lifted her head back up, Sienna huffed again as she waited for London to explain herself.

“First of all, I’m not fuckin him anymore. And second of all, Nora you’re the one who told me to go sleep with him in the first place!”

“London, you made out with him at his wife’s-“ Nora starts but London was quick to cut her off.

“I know what happened bitch, you don’t have to keep repeating it!” London snapped

“So stop acting confused. I only told you to finish what the fuck you started, don’t put the blame on me. You damn near gave him the pussy the first time anyways, you should be thanking me. You’re welcome.” Nora winked as she took a sip of her wine.

Before London could reply back to her sister, Sienna inserted herself into the conversation.

“UM HELLO? Anyone wanna talking about how you’re ACTUALLY FUCKING ROMAN!?” Sienna shouted, the shock feeling has not left her at all. Her eyes almost wild and searching as she waited for London to explain.

“I’m not fucking him anymore.” London corrects. Nora scoffs at her but doesn’t say a word.

“After the party” London starts, ignoring her sister. “I ignored him because I just knew if I seen him, I would’ve remembered that night and just fuck him, not caring about my marriage-“

“Which you’ve managed to do anyway, but continue.” Nora quickly added before giving London the floor again.

“I went to Nora about it because I didn’t know what else to do but she kept telling me to grow up and talk to him and I decided I wouldn’t. James is a good man, he didn’t deserve that you know?” London continued to explain, sighing at the end.

“Okay. I’m hearing a whole lotta nothing.” Sienna huffed out, placing her cup down to focus on the conversation. “Spare me the lame details bitch cause I can really do without.”

London raised an eyebrow at her friend. “You wanna hear the story or not?” After a moment of silence she continued to unfold the moment of events. “I didn’t want to; but Roman wasn’t going to have me ignoring him for any longer so he came to my job to confront me.”

Her skin became littered with goosebumps as she relieved the story on how this all started just two months ago.

“It didn’t help how a couple nights before, Nora kept telling me to just get it out my system. Just Fuck him and get it over with. So when he asked me if I…. desired him the same way he desired me I thought… why not.”

The silence in the room was driving her crazy. Sienna just sat there listening to her friend admit that she committed adultery.

“You… nasty bitch.”

London groaned again, leaning back against the sofa. “I know. And the worst part is… I don’t regret it. He fucked the shit outta me Sienna. He made me cum four fuckin times in my office.”

“IN YOUR OFF- BITCH!?” Sienna shrieked in surprise. London was very proud of the reputation she gave herself at work, especially after taking over her father’s business and to hear that she let herself go on those same grounds left her shook. But then she let the sentence repeat in her mind on more time.

“Hol up, he made you what?” She asked, hoping she heard her friend clearly.

“Cum four time, that’s why her ass kept running back to him. Fucked her so good she forgot where her real home was at.” Nora replied with a laugh.

“Four times, back to back?” Sienna asked curiously

“Girl I tapped out at round one, he fucked my shit up.” London confessed. “I went to see him again later that night because we promised to talk, I didn’t even give him a chance, I fucked him right at his driveway. And we kept fucking that entire weekend: in the pool, the kitchen, in the shower, on the balcony.” She listed off, reminiscing with a soft sigh.

“It was supposed to a weekend thing and then we’d be done with it but… It’s been two months now.”

“Two…. Two months!? You’ve been…” Sienna just couldn’t believe it; she was at a loss for words. “Bitch I’ve been at your house at least four times these past two months. You kept me out the loop for sixty days!?”

Nora busted out laughing while London rolled her eyes.

“How was I supposed to just say I was cheating on my husband? That ain’t something you proudly say Sienna.”

“Oh Bitch don’t give me that sob story. You wasn’t proud to tell me but you’ve been bustin them legs wide open with no shame huh?”

London didn’t even know what to say. She was getting read for filth because Sienna was right. She wasn’t shameful enough to stop fucking Roman… until now.

“Okay. Y’all need to relax on me. Let’s not forget you two encouraged this. You two demons ain’t no better than me, putting bugs in my fuckin ear. Wasn’t it you who told me to go enjoy myself at the party, while you steady bringing it up.”

“London you are 34 years old. Get the fuck over yourself; ain’t nobody put a gun to yo’ head and tell you to fuck that man. Be a woman about it and just say you like fucking him. He beat it up better than James do and that’s why you keep running back, stop blaming everybody else.” Nora stated seriously at her sister.

“Yeah girl, I mean… okay so we pushed you. But these lil two months? Baby that was all you. I’m just upset cause why the fuck am I the last to know?” Sienna pouted, folding her arms across her chest.

“I didn’t know how to tell you. But, now there’s nothing to tell. James is a good man and he doesn’t deserve that. So I told Roman we had to cut it off.” London explained before her phone buzzed again.

Roman: ?

“So since you cut it off, is that James?” Nora asked smartly with a small smirk on her face as she pointed towards the phone.

The pregnant pause gave the girls the answer they were looking for. Sienna busted out laughing.

“Cut it off my ass.”

“It’s not like that, he just wanna go out to eat.” London tries to explain

Nora snorts, yeah fuckin right. “If you wanna play stupid, we can to ya know?”

“It’s not like that, I promise guys. Whatever Roman and I had is over.”

And even though London announced it with upmost confidence, not a single person in that room believed a word that came out of her mouth.

London: French. Pick me up at 8.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Roman wanted to be true to his words. He would not touch London tonight. Plus, she was right. He needed to shift all that sexual tension to his wife, not her.

He sent a driver over to pick London up and now he was waiting. He’d already order them champagne and was seated waiting for her to arrive.

It was fifteen minutes after 8, so he was still waiting. His mind running a million miles a minute, she wouldn’t stand him up right? They could still be friends even after everything has transpired between them, he couldn’t see why not. Before anything happened between them he’s had the upmost respect for her and it didn’t dwindle because they both gave in to their sexual feelings for each other.

“Penny for your thoughts?” A soft voice spoke to him, breaking him out of his daze as he turned his head to where the voice came from.

His eyes scanned her from her head to her feet, her legs displaying beautifully in her dress. If there’s one thing that Roman couldn’t deny, it’s how beautiful she is.

“Nothing crazy.” He replied, standing up from his seat to walk up to her and giving her a tight hug.

Her perfume was intoxicating, overclouding his senses as he wrapped his arms around her lower waist and London’s arms wrapped around his neck.

They rocked back and forth in a friendly manner but the hug lasted longer than it should have. His arms tightened around her waist and flashes of him holding her against the wall with him holding her up by her thighs as he thrusted in and out of her ran through his mind.

Get it together Roman. He scolds himself, London wasn’t a piece of meat, she’s his friend.

London’s arms tightened around him too, almost as if she was trying to remember this feeling of him in her arms before she let go.

When they finally let go of each other, he held out her seat for her to take a seat.

“You look good. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say your efforts were for me.” He stated teasingly, a small smirk on his face.

“Luckily you know better Mr. Reigns, I dress like this on the regular for myself.”

This was a fact; London loved to dress to impress and majority of the time the person she was looking to impress was herself.

A smile broke out on Roman’s face as the familiarity of the tone of conversation. This was the London he’d met.

The two fell into their old dynamic easier than they thought, London telling Roman about work and her upcoming work trip that she has coming up that she was dreading.

Roman filled her in on whatever was running through his head at the time, whether it was whatever scheme he had planned next for him and the twins to execute or whatever Paul suggested was the best thing to do for the business.

They chatted it up like two friends would have the entire time and before they knew it; two and a half hours had gone by. Roman called for the check and London bit her lip in thought.

You’ve been doing good for a week London, don’t do anything to fuck it up. She thought to herself when he paid and walked her to the driver he had set out for her.

The two walked close, arms brushing against each other as they took slow steps to the car. And even though she shouldn’t have, a small part of her was hoping that he would push her up against the car and ravish her in a way she’s become accustomed to in these past two months.

But instead, Roman gave her another long hug. His scent overpowering her own, she knows it’ll linger in her clothes on her way home. She was tempted, just turn your head and press your lips against his she had thought. But it was a passing thought that she didn’t execute because he had pulled away from their embrace and bid her a goodnight.

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

Roman came home in search of his wife and jumped on her the second he found her. He pulled her into a hot searing kiss, Tiara was took by surprise but she let herself get lost in the kiss.

It’s been a while since her husband has come back from work and has been in the mood so she was going to jump at the opportunity, she’d missed her husband. And as they teared each other’s clothes off each other she could feel how much her husband had missed her.

Gripping on her skin to press it impossibly closer to his own. Ravishing her skin with his lips like he’s never done before. And when he put her in position, he flipped her onto her stomach, Face down ass up.

“Fuck… wait Roman it’s-“ Tiara cut herself off with a moan as Roman thrusts himself mercilessly into her. Skin clapping against the other and moaning were filling the room as Tiara called out her husband’s name in pleasure.

Unbeknownst to her, Roman’s mind was elsewhere thinking of the woman he had just left. London’s moans were playing loud in his head, he almost couldn’t hear anything else. His hands tightened on Tiara’s hips, in the morning will probably be marked as he continued to slam his hips into hers.

London made him promise that he’d shift all his sexual desires away from her and back to his wife. But if he thought of her the whole time, it wouldn’t have been anybody’s business but his own.

Meanwhile, London laid in her bed naked with her legs open and fingers running up and down her slit.

Roman’s scent was still inked on her skin, it was almost as if he was here in the room with her. She couldn’t help herself, she tore her clothes off as soon as she got home and couldn’t get him off her mind.

When she finally pushed her fingers through her entrance her eyes rolled shut. One hand tweaked at her breast and the other thrusting inside of herself. She could almost feel him.

His hands pressed down against her back to keep her in position as he thrust inside of her at a face pace, “You runnin’ from me London? I thought this was big girl pussy, where you going?” He taunts as he pulls her closer to him. The tip of his dick just kissing her cervix causing her to wince a little in pain but the pleasure felt so good.

Her fingers had picked up speed as she reminisced about one of her sessions with Roman. The squelching noises from her fingers filled the room along with her moans.

How many times was Roman going to make her feel like a horny teenager?

Thats how she felt as her fingers pressed against her spot, bucking against her own hand at the feeling. “Roman.” She moaned out as her eyes rolled to the back of her head.

“C’mon baby, I know you can handle it, throw it back for me.” He encouraged, letting his grip on her waist go to watch her throw her ass back to him. The sounds of her skin clapping against his as she fucked him back filled the room, he had no doubt that whoever was near his locker room could hear them.

“Fuck Daddy, you feel so good.”

“So good, you gon cum for me baby?” He whispered to her

“Yes. M’gonna cum for you Daddy.” She moaned aloud, repeating her previous words to him as she continued to finger herself to ecstasy. A loud moan echoed throughout her room as her back arched from the bed as she came to the memory of her and Roman.

As her eyes rolled back into place and she panted while trying to catch her breath, only one thought cross her mind: how long was she going to be able to get over these sexual desires for Roman?

And halfway across the city, as he watched his wife succumb into slumber Roman wondered the same thing.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Personally I like this chapter WAAYY more than chapter 3. I can’t wait to give you guys chapter five😭🫶🏾

Please comment and show some loveeee🤍

Tagging the lovelies: @whatdoeseverybodywant @theninthwonder @christinabae @2-muchsauce @alichesmi @pitlissa22 @sassginawanmills @harmshake @po3ticb3auty @unfriendly--blvck--hottie @dershalover89 @serena004 @reci1996 @scarlettnoir01 @venusesworld @kill-the-artiste @southerngirl41 @badbitchcentralinc @reignsboy19 @mzv11 @cyberdejos2 @msniaimani @skyesthebomb @bebesobrielo @katymae12344 @alyyaanna

[sugar-grigri]

What if Quanxi became Denji's mentor?

A little thought I'd like to share with you.

I've mentioned it before, but Quanxi and Denji are weapons with a lot in common. So far, Quanxi is the only weapon who has also seen her entourage (her girlfriends) killed before her eyes. I think that even after the brainwashing she received from Makima, she remembers because she wears a lace band around her neck.

Once again, Quanxi marks her points of vulnerability in this way: her activation point is hidden by her eye patch, and the band not only expresses the fact that she's been decapitated, but also symbolizes the grief she feels at having seen her girlfriends after being executed.

The public hunters seem to want to annihilate Denji's identity as a weapon, and he is no longer allowed to claim his demonic identity, to claim to be a hybrid being, and is forced to act as a human.

Quanxi fights most of the time only as a "human", she doesn't have the reflex to immediately activate her activation point to transform.

Maybe you can see where I'm going with this, but just as Kishibe was Denji's mentor (temporarily and in his own way), is there any world in which Quanxi wouldn't become Denji's?

Yes, she has no interest in boys, but Denji has the same reflections and reflexes as she does? To give an extremely privileged status to women? Whether it's their loneliness, the dismantling of their loved ones, or their "values", Quanxi and Denji have a lot in common?

In an arc where Fujimoto has merely repeated Denji's question marks, he has created a complex context that prevents his protagonist from acting: could fighting as a human be his way out?

Because Denji wants us to start seeing "Denji" as well as "Chainsaw Man". Who didn't say that the human in this hybrid being couldn't be appreciated as a hero?

The fact that Quanxi marks her vulnerabilities is not meaningless; it's inevitable proof that, as a weapon, she embraces her human condition to a greater extent than the others, who insist on feeling like supermen.

And again, it's more complicated... because for the moment, each weapon has its own response... or rather, a type of response to the identity crisis that can result from not belonging to either camp.

The whip demon considers herself a superman, while the spear devil has no answer.

Reze, the bomb devil, was the one who most embraced her weapon identity, being a veritable offensive object of Russian propaganda, but that didn't stop the girl from being disturbed by her dual identity, expressed by her desire to go to school but also by the fact that she also saw herself as Denji.

Barem for his part, has yet another answer of his own, as he completely avoids the identity crisis caused by the fact that he belongs to neither humans nor demons. For him, spreading death is a common denominator, blurring the boundaries between species.

Then there are the weapons who added a "-Man" as a suffix

Sugo Miri had mentioned it as a joke, but in reality "-Man" is a different kind of response.

Miri locks himself into denial, convinced that his new instrumentalization by the church is by choice, as if this would transform his situation into one governed solely by free will.

In the same way, Katana Man, when confronting Denji, expresses his remorse at killing even one zombie, that he has retained his "human heart", which is also in itself a form of denial, since all weapons have a demon heart, so he doesn't fully embrace his nature.

Denji is another type of response, even though he has the suffix "-Man", which doesn't express denial but rather gives importance to human condition, whether through freedom as a human characteristic with Miri, pseudo-morality with Katana Man or the need for integration with Denji.

Quanxi is yet another type of response: she has learned to identify herself in a way other than through the prism of the human/demon dichotomy that creates an identity crisis in weapons, she has circumvented the problem by proving her worth other than by nature and her natural gifts by being an outstanding fighter without transformation.

But she's attached herself to beings without barriers, to the point of having romantic and sexual relationships (from a sentimental and organic/bodily point of view) with demons, her girlfriends

Denji is imprisoned by the public hunter's dilemma: either Chainsaw Man or Denji.

Quanxi is also in a vulnerable situation, and I think that even though she still has some memories, the institutions have taken advantage of her state of weakness and confusion following Makima's brainwashing. Makima had turned weapons into weapons for the Japanese government, and although the government has lost control of some weapons, it still retains the use of others. Whether it's Katana Man, who no longer works for the Yakuza, or Quanxi, who works for China, the weapons have all changed owners.

Quanxi is just as trapped in a system that doesn't make her happy and that I think she hates as Denji.

Quanxi, as a fellow weapon in the same situation, is the one who hold the answer.

While the other weapons boasted of their immortality, Quanxi provided the answer in the chapter 143 : her lace neckband symbolizes a single idea, death affects everyone, even immortal beings.

[findingnemosworld]

𝐢𝐟 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐢𝐧, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐭 - 𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐤 𝐬𝐳𝐨𝐛𝐨𝐬𝐳𝐥𝐚𝐢

・𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲: 𝐦𝐞

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐠, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞'𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦.

𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐤 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬, 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐯𝐢𝐛𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡, 𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐤'𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐯𝐢𝐛𝐞𝐬, 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲!!

Aside from football, she was the most lethal addiction he had ever known - they'd been friends since childhood, partly due to the fact that their mothers were close, which in turn had allowed him to be her close friend, the confidant, the secret keeper she could always count on and he loved it, he loved how dependent she was on him, so much so that she was easily manipulated into believing anything he says, if a certain suitor even thinks of her much less approaches her, you can count on Dominik cornering them when no one is watching - and threatening them that if they so much as speak to her, he'd end up hurting them.

While she blissfully saw him as the close friend he'd always presented himself to be, this was all a ploy to him, eliminating any and all targets to ensure that no one lays a finger on her, however when his career had taken him to new heights, forcing him to leave his hometown - a sense of dread washed over him, the possibility of them losing touch or worse, her finding love in another man's arms had leisurely ate him away until his move to Liverpool in which he received the biggest and most surprising news ever, she had reached out, asking if she could stay him as she had applied for a move to work at a company based in their hometown which had a branch in Liverpool.

He couldn't truly explain the amount of elation he felt at the news, she would be under his eyes at all times, ( whenever he wasn't training of course ) yet that meant that he can execute his plan after months and months of waiting for her to finally realize what he truly felt.

To say that living with her was facile would be an understatement, she was unaware of the effect she had on Dominik, so much so that every part of his mind was consumed by her, from the moment he wakes up to the moment he falls asleep, so much so that he had tried to distract himself by any means possible yet they all were in vain, each time he steps out to a club with his teammates, he'd try and bury the notion of her in the back of his mind yet he couldn't seem to do it, she was and is the one woman for him, and he would not stop until he ensures that not a single man lays a hand on her.

____

He walks into the apartment, his brows knitting at the eery silence he had been welcomed to as he had grown accustomed to hearing her sing in the kitchen or the sound of television as loud as it can be while she watches a terrible reality show, he places his training bag down on the floor and walks in further to look around, in hopes that maybe she is in the guest bedroom, only to be met with complete silence which sent his mind into overdrive, he pulls out his cellphone, pressing her contact number to type up a message.

Where are you?

In a matter of seconds, he receives a response from her.

I'm out to get some groceries, your fridge is practically empty, I'll be home in like five minutes.

He lets out a sigh of relief then types back.

Ok, I'll be waiting.

And indeed, in five minutes he hears the door creak open and she walks in carrying a number of bags, he sprints over towards her flinging his arms around her, " You had me worried sick " he murmurs nuzzling his face in her neck. " Don't go out like this without at least calling me "

Her eyes widen for a brief moment, her heart flutters at the concern he displayed before she pulls him back to look him in the eye and say, " Domi, I'm fine " she said with a soft tone.

" It doesn't matter, I still got worried, I don't know what could happen to you so please " He looks at her with pleading eyes, before adding with a small voice. " Don't go out until at least you call or wait for me to go out with you "

She nods with a soft smile, " Ok, I promise " she murmurs.

He cradles her face in his hands then presses a soft kiss to her forehead, " Now, give me those bags and you go on and shower, tonight I'm ordering food for us " he states.

" But I was going to cook " She pouts.

Dominik shakes his head repeatedly, " No, tonight I'm going to spoil you baba, you've worked so hard and you deserve to relax " he smiles.

She giggles, the sound causing his heart to flutter. " Domi, you don't have to spoil me "

He presses another kiss to the top of her head, " I want to, I want to spoil you with everything I can think of, you deserve it "

" It's like I have a boyfriend without actually having a boyfriend " She laughs, mostly to herself as she walks into the guest bedroom, blissfully unaware of the effect that phrase had on Dominik.

And it wasn't until she was in the midst of a shower that an odd sensation washed over her, she felt as though someone was watching - she stopped for a moment to listen and heard a soft yet faint thud which made her frown in confusion for a moment before shrugging, she opted not to think much of it and finish her shower before stepping out with a towel wrapped around her body, she was about to make her way towards the closet when the door flings open causing her to gasp, " Domi " she whines, " don't do that "

His eyes rake over her semi bare body before he quickly composes himself and responds, " I'm sorry baba " he pouts, " I just came to say that dinner is here "

" Ok, I'll get dressed and be right out " She responds.

He nods swiftly then steps out to give her some much needed privacy, she slips on a pair of shorts, along with an old Hungary jersey Dominik had given her - she pulls her hair up then walks out of into the living room where Dominik had set up the plates, he looks up and gives her the sweetest smile, patting the spot next to him just as he turns on the television, the pair sat close to one another to eat while watching an old film, halfway through they had finished their meals and she subconsciously shuffled closer to Dominik seeking warmth that he happily provided by wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

The pair were silent for the most part until she piped up with a soft voice, " Domi "

" Yes Baba " He responds, averting his gaze down to meet hers.

" Am I ugly? " She wonders.

His eyes darken, then he responds as calmly as he can so as to not feel enraged " Of course not baba, who on earth made you feel like thet? "

" No one, it's just ... " She fiddles with the bracelet on her wrist, " Ever since high school, I had just one boyfriend and even he didn't want to kiss me or, you know ... " she rolls her eyes, " and it didn't work in college either, not one single guy was interested "

He had to hold back a smile, reminiscing his effective plan of threatening any and all suitors that he saw coming close to her, he opts to force a faux sad expression then say, " Baba " he whispers, his thumb caressing the apple of her cheek. " You are so beautiful, the most beautiful girl I know, I mean I still remember the first day I saw you, dressed in that pink dress, with your hair braided in those two cute pigtails " He chuckles softly, " You had me wrapped around your finger, you still do "

Her eyes soften, her lower lip caught between her teeth; the action instinctively drawing his attention towards them. " Baba " He murmurs, " Don't do that "

Her brows knit, " Do what? " she whispers.

" Bite your lip like that " He states with a labored breath, leaning closer. " You have no clue what you do to me "

Her gaze trails from his eyes down to his lips then back to his eyes before she whispers, " Show me? "

With a deep growl, he slams his lips onto hers, gently pushing her down, her back hitting the couch; one hand wrapped around her waist while the other rests on her neck. " Baba " he moans in between their kisses, " If we move through with this, I won't stop "

She wraps her arms around his shoulders pulling him in, the cold sensation of his chain resting on her skin elicited a whine from her followed by a soft, " Don't stop " murmured against his lips.

His hand that rested on her waist trails down until it slips inside of her shorts, his digits trailing over her now soaked pussy, the sensation had elicited both a moan and a groan from the two of them. " Fuck you're so wet " he murmurs.

" Dominik " She sighs, " Please, please touch me "

He eagerly slips one digit inside of her warm walls which incited an obscene and muffled cry from her which he happily devoured into his mouth while his tongue danced around inside of her mouth, " Baba " he sighs once again, resting his forehead on top of hers before he grabs one of her hands placing it directly on top of his heart. " Do you hear that? " he whispers.

She looks up at him with wide eyes, nodding quietly.

" If loving you was a sin, then I'm not repenting ever " He whispers, pecking her cheek before adding. " You have had my heart in the palm of your hand since the day I saw you, and I know that you have wondered why no one has ever approached you, I can tell you one thing, none of them deserve you baba " he whispers in her ear, " I can give you everything you need, I can make you happy, all you have to do is just let me in, let me take care of your heart, let me show you the love that you deserve "

The combination of his soft words coupled with the way he pumped her pussy with a singular digit incited soft moans and whimpers from her, " Domi " she whines, tilting his face so that he'd meet her darkened gaze, " While we're confessing our feelings, I should confess mine "

His brows knit in confusion, " What do you mean? "

" There's a reason why I was seeking attention from other guys " She murmurs avoiding his gaze before adding, " I didn't think you would ever like me "

His eyes widened before softening almost instantly, he caressed her cheek and chuckled, pressing featherlight kisses on her neck. " Baba, I love you more than anything " he groans, the slickness of her arousal coating his digits which were now lodged deep inside of her walls. " Promise me " he murmurs in her ear, " promise me you won't ever leave me "

She moans, " I promise, I promise you - OH FUCK " her back arches off the couch, the pace of his digits thrusting in and out of her pussy had quickened, " Domi, please don't stop, oh my god " she whines softly, " just like that "

He sped up his ministrations until she exploded right onto his digits, he lifts them up to lick them clean while their eyes were locked on one another. " Let me take you to bed and show you exactly what you deserve " he murmurs, pecking her lips before he stood up, hoisting her up in his arms to take her to his bedroom.

He slams the door shut behind them then places her down, turning her around so that her back collides with his chest. " You are the most beautiful girl " he murmurs against her skin, helping her undress completely, his hands roaming every inch of her skin. " I love every part of you " he turns her around and cradles her face in his hands to press soft kisses to her lips.

" Domi " She moans in between their kisses, " You're still dressed "

He chuckles softly, pulling back to hastily undress himself before he pushes her onto the bed, he climbs up on top of her and dips his head to capture her lips in a passionate and deep kiss, " You're mine baba " he murmurs, deepening the kiss even further, their tongues dancing together. " Tell me, tell me that you're mine " he pleads.

" I'm yours Domi " She moans in response, gasping when he spreads her legs then teases her pussy with the tip of his cock. " Fuck " she whispers.

" You are mine baba " He reaffirms, gasping when he slowly began to thrust his cock inside of her pussy, " You " he groans, his eyelids fluttering shut. " Are " he inhales then exhales before setting a leisure pace. " Mine "

Her hands grip the bedsheet in response to his thrusts, " Yes " she sighs.

" No man is ever going to touch you " He groans, finding the appropriate pace to thrust. " Not one single man, I will burn this world and everyone in it for you baba "

His chain rests between her breasts, the sight spurred him on to thrust even harder. " You're so perfect " he caresses her cheek. " You are my perfect girl "

" Dominik " She whines, " Don't stop "

" I won't, you like it baba? " He cooed, half whispering half groaning while he continued to thrust, " You're taking my cock so well, like a good girl, like the best girl I know, your pussy was made for me and only me, say it baba, say that you're all mine "

" I'm all yours Domi, all yours " She moans, " Fuck, I'm going to cum " she gasps.

His eyes light up, " Yeah? " he grunts, " You want to cum baba? " by then the bed was creaking from the intensity of his thrusts. " Cum all over my cock, make a mess, I know you want to " he spurs her on, moaning when he felt her arousal seep all over his cock. " That's it baby, such a good girl, keep going "

" Dominik " She moans, tugging him close by his chain to kiss him with all her might.

" You think you can let me cum? " He whispers against her lips, " Let me cum inside of you "

" Yeah " She breathes out, " It's fine, I'm on protection "

" Thank you baba " He moans, thrusting even harder, his thrusts had turned sloppy until his cock twitched causing him to let out a loud grunt and spill everything inside of her. " Oh fuck that was good " he then pulls out inciting a whine from her, " Relax baba, I'm going to set up a bath for us " he smiles.

And true to his word, he sets up a warm bath full of bath salts and a scented lotion, he then lights up two candles he had kept there mostly for this night, he then grabs two wet clothes to step back into the bedroom, he spends a few minutes gently cleaning her up before he cleaned himself up, he discards the cloths and makes his way towards her to pick her up in his arms and take her to the bathroom, he places her in first before entering after her, he then takes her in his arms, wrapping her in his warm embrace. " You were so good baba " he murmurs, pecking her cheek.

She smiles, " Domi, do you promise never to leave me? "

" I couldn't leave you even if I wanted to baba " He responds, tightening his embrace over her, and indeed, he couldn't and wouldn't leave her, until his last breath.