#losing money to be a tycoon

[the-music-maniac]

I NEED y'all to go watch the donghua Losing Money to Be a Tycoon, that shit is so funny (premise is this dude gets sucked into a game where he has to invest money into a company to gain money, except the conversion rate is fucked, so in order to earn money he has to try and tank his company, comedy of errors follow), good voice acting, we got a fruity lil main character with his fruity lil friend (it's not BL just warning you, but their friendship is hilarious. And fruity) and I cannot find a fandom for them I cannot live like this

LOOK AT THEM

THE BABIES

[yundeob]

A NIGHT IN HOLLYWOOD ☆ | ATEEZ SERIES

— featuring ot8!ateez in iconic HOLLYWOOD romance and rom-com movies

— TICKET BOOTH IS CLOSED! 🎟️ : the movies are about to start! all fics will have MATURE CONTENT! MDNI!

sit back, relax, grab your popcorn and tissues, and enjoy the silver screen . . .

THE PARENT TRAP ☆ | KHJ

TROPE: exes to lovers! divorced!au

TAGS: nsfw, smut, fluff, angst, crack, slice of life

AS DIVORCED PARENTS to two twin daughters, you and hongjoong have your fair share of work cut out. Driving to piano lessons, cheering at hockey games, drop offs at each other’s houses, it can all be a little much. But could a relaxing summer retreat as a whole family possibly rekindle past emotions you’ve swept under the rug? . . .

— IN THEATRES

DIRTY DANCING ☆ | PSH

TROPE: bad boy!seonghwa, enemies to lovers!au , 60s!au

TAGS: nsfw, smut, angst, crack

THAT WAS THE SUMMER before JFK got shot, before the beatles came, and when you were working part time at your aunts summer resort. That was also the summer you met resident heart breaker and cocky entertainment crew member, Park Seonghwa. Remind yourself why you’re suddenly dance partners with him again? . . .

— not yet in theatres . . .

PRETTY WOMAN ☆ | JYH

TROPE: dilf!yunho x formerstripper!reader, strangers to lovers!au, contract lovers!au,

TAGS: nsfw, smut, fluff, angst

LIVING IN BEVERLY HILLS comes with its perks. But for two different people such as yourself and multimillionaire business tycoon, Jeong Yunho, both of you can’t seem to find what you’re looking for in the so called ‘Land of Dreams’. So the proposal is simple really… let him spoil you with money, jewelry and clothes while in return, you stay by his side. . .

— not yet in theatres . . .

MR AND MRS KANG ☆ | KYS

TROPE: marriage!au, established relationship, spy!au, assasin!au

TAGS: nsfw, smut, fluff, ANGST, crack

WHO WOULD’VE THOUGHT picture perfect suburban neighbourhood couple, Mr. and Mrs. Kang would be at each others necks trying to kill each other first. You’ve both come this far in your marriage while hiding your secret identities, but it looks like only one person can remain standing. I guess you both did promise “in sickness and in health”. . .

— not yet in theatres . . .

ROMAN HOLIDAY ☆ | CS

TROPE: royalty!au, princess!reader x reporter!san, strangers to lovers!

TAGS: nsfw, smut, fluff, angst

AS CROWN PRINCESS, you’re on a tightly scheduled tour of European capital cities. But after an especially rough day in Rome, you sneak out of the embassy to explore the so called Eternal City, running into no other than celebrity news reporter, Choi San, looking out for his next big royal scandal. . .

— not yet in theatres . . .

10 THINGS I HATE ABOUT YOU ☆ | SMG

TROPE: college!au, stoner!mingi, enemies to lovers!au, fakedating(?)au, y2k aesthetic

TAGS: nsfw, smut, fluff, angst, crack, slice of life

YOUR YOUNGER BROTHER Wooyoung is desperate in getting you, his older sister in college, to date so that he can finally date in highschool. The options for potential candidates are scarce, considering men flock away like birds the second you’re near. Good thing campus stoner and weirdo, Song Mingi is the same as well. . .

— not yet in theatres . . .

HOW TO LOSE A GUY IN 10 DAYS ☆ | JWY

TROPE: fashioncolumnist!reader x advertiser!wooyoung, y2k aesthetic, fake dating(?)au, enemies to lovers!au, mutual pining

TAGS: nsfw, smut, fluff, angst, crack, slice of life

LISTEN, IF IT MEANS getting a promotion at your editorial company as a news journalist instead of pop culture and lifestyle columnist, you’d do anything. And that includes pretending to be the most annoying and clingiest girlfriend to some guy for 10 whole days. But just so you know, Wooyoung likes clingy. . .

— not yet in theatres . . .

ROMEO & JULIET ☆ | CJH

TROPE: unrequited love, star crossed lovers!au, mutual pining, secret romance (shakespeare be rolling in his grave rn)

TAGS: nsfw, smut, fluff, ANGST

FOR CENTURIES, a plague of hatred and hostility has been present in the relations between the House of Choi and your own. You know you can’t be together, but yet why do you keep catching that dark haired boy staring at you so longingly? And why do you want him just as bad?. . .

— not yet in theatres . . .

a/n: for updates, follow my blog! this will be a work-in-progress so I ask for your support:(🙏

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[uluthrek]

au in which robert, the starks and the lannisters play monopoly instead of going hunting and pushing each other‘s kids from towers.

tyrion implements a tax system to make things more interesting and fights cersei over the cat for a solid ten minutes.

around thirty minutes into the game, catelyn realizes that she has free will and stops paying taxes.

arya and sansa haggle over new york avenue, which ends up being bought by theon. this causes the two to completely cast aside their differences, ally and subsequently start doing everything in their power to make theon‘s life hell.

theon himself is quite severely stoned the entire time throughout.

ned enters horrendous debt pretty much immediately and, after two hours of being financially sucked dry by both cersei and his tax evader of a wife, decides to just place his figurine in jail and never leave.

jon, playing the dog, controls the railroads and makes jaime, playing the ship, go completely broke within minutes. being beaten by a bastard and officially the first to lose the game makes jaime so mad he spends the rest of the evening perched on the family‘s ancestral armchair eating flaming hot cheetos and stifling sobs.

cersei is holding onto her last two dollars and her one house in atlantic avenue like a maniac and evades taxes like it‘s an olympic sport. she claims ownership of kentucky avenue on the grounds that red is her house‘s color at least twice. after three hours, she‘s consumed enough vintage red to kill a large mammal and keeps quoting the art of war. fascinatingly enough, she never goes completely broke.

robert, just as broke and drunk as his wife but not nearly as ferocious, proposes marriage for tax advantages to bran, who is in possession of the boardwalk and lets him dangle on his proposition for two rounds before accepting and feeling like a benevolent god.

sansa sees this and immediately proposes to arya, who accepts, only for them to be sued by their mother for public indecency („you‘re siblings, jesus christ!“). arya argues that this is just a game and that one could argue that robert‘s and bran‘s marital alliance is just as if not even more inappropriate, considering that bran is seven and robert thirtyseven. sansa countersues her mother for tax evasion, who promises she‘ll drop her lawsuit if her daughters let her keep hoarding perverse amounts of wealth. „love wins!“ arya says, which causes jaime, still perched on the armchair but now eating old nan‘s home made whiskey truffles, to hysterically sob. cersei stares him down.

robb, in a rare moment of almost prophetic foresight, excuses himself one hour in and goes on a very, VERY long walk with grey wind.

tyrion, whose tax system has spectacularly backfired in his face, proposes marriage to catelyn, jon and cersei in rapid succession, who all turn him down. „i wish i was the monster you think i am. i wish i had enough poison for the whole pack of you. i would gladly give my life to watch you all swallow it.“ he screams before he leaves the table.

at that, joffrey, who has refused to participate and instead sits on the couch playing doom on his nintendo ds, starts hysterically laughing. tyrion turns on his heel and awards his nephew with the bitchslap of the century. this causes cersei to completely abandon the game and chase after him with a broom. catelyn makes sure that everyone is distracted by the lannister antics and then reaches across the table and bags cersei‘s money and properties.

with a heavy heart, myrcella trades arya and sansa one of her limited edition bayala schleich unicorns for park place.

at this point, the game is between the tycoons that are catelyn and jon, the bran-robert alliance, the arya-sansa-alliance, and ned, who is still in jail and watching ice hockey on his phone under the table. that is when catelyn hears rickon gagging and discovers that he, in the absence of tyrion, the self declared bank manager, has managed to eat all bank notes from the box.

rickon gets his stomach pumped, cersei and tyrion have both been arrested, theon is still stoned, arya, sansa and myrcella have wandered off to go play schleich horses, and jon remains at the table, alone, content, and quietly considering himself the winner.

[pikatrainer99]

Let's talk about Barry for a minute.

This boy is so underappreciated and gets way too much hate just for being ADHD incarnate (or as the haters say, "his hyperactive squirrel brain"). The haters also don't recognize that Barry actually has a character arc in the games. He learns the importance of slowing down throughout his journey, especially after his loss to Jupiter at Lake Acuity. He had been one step ahead of the player the whole game, but this loss actually makes him stop and think things through for a bit, deciding to take his time and train up more. As a result, the player is the one to get the last Gym Badge and make it to the League first. Also, let's not forget that Barry had the patience (and probably hyperfocus) to get a MUNCHLAX and a HERACROSS from the honey trees...y'know, the two RAREST honey tree Pokémon...? Yeah...that takes PATIENCE. Even I don't have the patience for that...but I'm also a very impatient person myself (I blame my parents, who are also impatient, for passing it on to me and my brothers), my "now now now" attitude has driven my family crazy millions of times by now, but I digress.

Something else that's important to mention is Barry's personality (other than his ADHD traits, that is). This kid is a genuinely good guy. He's the player's best friend and that doesn't stop when he becomes the player's rival. He gives the player tips, he doesn't look down on the player or bully them, he's always excited to see them whenever they cross his path, is genuinely happy for them when they get their last Gym Badge and says he won't be far behind, etc. Barry also genuinely loves Pokémon, they are his friends, not tools for battle. He gets angry when around Team Galactic because of how they treat Pokémon, he went into empathy overdrive for Uxie's suffering after losing to Jupiter at Lake Acuity, etc. And he gets excited and happy when around people who love Pokémon as much as he does, like the player and Gym Leaders, for example. Barry also NEVER gives up, which is definitely a great character trait, especially for a rival character. He's set on his goal and nothing can pull him away from it, not even multiple losses to the player. It makes me feel less bad about beating him because I know he's just gonna bounce back each time and try again. That's just how Barry is and he's my favorite friendly rival because of it. I never feel like I'm crushing his dreams like I do with Hop, for example. Instead I'm making him stronger, both in resolve, and as a Trainer.

That doesn't mean that he doesn't have a sad side to him though...because he does. He has daddy issues, BIG TIME. This kid's whole motivation is to get strong enough to challenge and defeat his dad, Tower Tycoon Palmer. He wants to be acknowledged by his dad SO BADLY that in Pokémon Masters he straight-up TELLS YOU that the reason he keeps fining people is because he wants to use the fines he collects to build his own Battle Tower because, in his mind, that's the way to get acknowledgement from his dad. But no one ever takes him seriously (most likely because of how often he does this, how much money he asks for, and also the fact that he's a CHILD), so he never gets any money. I'll be honest, my heart broke for this poor kid during that conversation. I used to think that Barry's "I'm fining you 10 million Pokédollars!" was just his way of expressing annoyance or even just a verbal tic of sorts...but in Masters it's revealed that he's dead serious when he says those things, all because he's so desperate for his dad's approval that he wants to make him proud by building and running his own Battle Tower. Again, he's a CHILD! That shouldn't be any child's goal, especially not for something all kids deserve, which is parent approval! As someone who is ALSO constantly seeking my own dad's approval, this conversation hit home for me. My dad doesn't really approve of anything I'm interested in or anything I do, he wants me to be someone else entirely...but I can't be who he wants me to be, I can't be who ANYONE in this world wants me to be...I can only be myself and I want to make my dad proud just by being me...

The Pokémon Evolutions episode "The Rival" is ALL ABOUT Barry's daddy issues. Everything he does and says in that episode is all about getting strong enough to challenge his dad. He's able to beat him in the end, finally getting the acknowledgement he deserves (he would still deserve it even if he didn't win, or even get to challenge him, let's be clear). So it's a happy ending there, but in the gameverse that's not a clear-cut thing that happens, so we never know if he even does get to face his dad. He shows up in the Fight Area on weekends to battle the player but that's really it as far as I'm aware. In the games, Barry also admires Crasher Wake and wants him to take him under his wing and mentor him, but Wake refuses, which honestly makes me angry since Barry clearly wants (and needs) a father figure in his life since Palmer is absent all the time. At least in the manga Wake does train Pearl, so there is ONE Pokémon universe where Wake mentors the kid...buuuuut he should've done it in the games too, just sayin'.

So yeah, that's basically my ramble on Barry. Honestly this wasn't planned or anything, I just out of nowhere started thinking about Barry and how hated he is, and impulsively wrote this whole entire essay without scripting it out beforehand so this might be a bit hard to follow 😅. But I just love this kid and I don't understand the hate he gets, so he deserves an appreciation post in my opinion...so this is the post! Let me know what you think down below!

[gemsofgreece]

OK some things about Greece's Marina Satti results and we're done with this

JK I am not done with Marina I love her but we're done with the circus Marina was in, for another year

So, she is a perfectionist but I hope she will soon understand how much SHE SUCCEEDED. And it will look like a love delirium but no I am not being biased.

Marina Satti got 11th place. Missed Top 10 by one. She was basically killed by the juries.

In the televoting she won 8th place. So she was in the top 10 of all people's votes. She was also 8th in the votes from the Rest of the World, which is a big deal in my opinion.

I won't be mad at the juries because their voting overall made sense in many ways and we were aware that Zari was a not jury-friendly song in any way. It had zurna, it had rap, obviously juries don't go for this stuff. So, it's okay. We knew that.

BUT Marina Satti got 8th - 11th place:

By singing exclusively in the Greek language.

By singing in an entirely Balkan, eastern melody during a year that a lot of the Balkans and East Europe had withdrawn from the contest.

By kinda rapping / reggaetoning, which is generally hated in Eurovision.

By doing exactly her thing, despite knowing how much she would be fought by certain people.

By knowingly choosing the very risky song instead of a ballad and a typical dance song that she also had available as options.

By not trying to be "understood" and get sympathy votes.

By being given a tiny budget from the Greek delegation, much smaller than any previous years including to last year's NQ lame tycoon nephew entry. So GD gave a famous artist like Marina much less money than to those small unknown kids that had gone before her. WTF

By being hated for her song and her (genius) music video and a large percentage of the population writing in English and asking foreigners to not vote for her and blaming her for insulting Greece, Greek culture etc (HINT: No she did not insult it and a blog called gemsofgreece tells you that so relax) and insulting her, her morals, her family, her father's descent and her talent relentlessly for three months

By the unprecedented thing of the freaking SHOWBIZ of the country making openly insulting attacks against her and her song. Like, seriously, there were FAMOUS celebrities going on TV and calling her song "cat vomit", a fashion designer (before her dress choice lol) saying she should go to Eurovision naked because there's no other hope for her to get votes. I am serious. You might say, oh, she must have done something. NO. Guys, no. She has never said or done anything wrong to any celebrity in the country as far as I am aware. She was attacked by musicians, fashion designers, TV shows and honestly nobody knows why. It's a different thing to not like something than to get a polemic position openly as a celebrity against another famous person. This has never happened before, I don't remember anything like this. Celebrities shitting on another artist's effort out of nowhere, especially in advance. To put it simply, now that Marina will have to return to Greece (poor thing), she has good reasons to sue half the country.

By losing her father one month ago.

By getting pretty ill during the semi-final, losing her voice and being administrated medication every three hours.

By suffering chronically from severe anxiety, which is why she refused three prior propositions from the Greek delegation to represent the country.

Well, by receiving a new massive wave of hate from people from or supporting Israel and the Greek government controlled media and press, who all started a fierce campaign against her the last two days before the final. The reason was that she showed intentionally boredom / sleepiness during the time the Israeli contestant was speaking. Make of that what you will, I am only presenting the facts of how her placement was formed here. Many Jewish people wrote they had voted her in the semi but now they wouldn't. I believe because Israel is an eastern country, probably several people of Jewish descent voted for her and then all those votes were lost. It's no matter, I am just explaining that she would probably otherwise be 7th in the televoting, 10th overall. Here we analyze if Marina succeeded her goal, we don't nitpick for Eurovision's sake.

And as you see, she succeeded. With all the odds against her, with a LOT of people hating her and making her life harder and her effort impossible, with the loss of her father, she succeeded in her vision. Bring back Greek language, the eastern sound and having the world dance with it. Shoutout to Armenia who also succeeded in this and made top 10, the song was a little more conventional. Let's be real, Satti achieved all this with a VERY difficult song. The definition of a difficult song and in a little known language. Nothing else, just congratulations to her and I hope she realises all this and does not let her trademark anxiety and perfectionism get the better of her. Also, she really created an international fan community with this and I think there are good things coming for her in the future :)))))

PS1: Odds had her 8th-10th place but they underestimated the juries and the last day's hate she got. In general odds were not very successful this year.

PS2. No worries Greek and Cypriot televoting exchanged the 12 points again :D

PS3: to the ageist haters who wondered why she looks 20 though she is 38, kitties reach her age and you will be crying to look like her

PS4: Marina’s 8th place in televoting was the best placement since 2013, surpassing Amanda and Stefania with the English jury friendly songs 😃😃😃 Greek delegation take a bloody hint

[cerise-on-top]

HELOOOOOOO IM BACKKK

can we get some Valeria Garza headcanons? :p

LOVE UR WORK AS ALWAYS DRINK WATER BYEBYEEE

-☁️

Hello! Welcome back :> I wasn't sure if you wanted general HCs or romantic ones, so I did both! I hope they're enjoyable! In regards to these HCs, there's one mention of drugs, but the HCs are about Valeria, so that's to be expected!

Also, to anyone reading this: Merry Christmas and/or happy holidays! I'm saying this today because in my country we celebrate Christmas today and not on the 25th! I'm wishing you all a few lovely days ahead :-)

General:

Playing games of any kind with her is actually infuriating and almost unfair. You’d think games like Monopoly would be fair since it’s based on luck for the most part, but no. I can assure you Valeria could set a world record on beating someone at Monopoly. But it’s not just that game either. You wanna poker with her? Tycoon? Sixty-Six? Granted, they require some skill as well, but she uses her nogging on a daily basis, so it’s not like she doesn’t know what she’s doing. And even if you only explained the rules to her once, she’ll beat you soon enough. Might also be prone to cheating, but you’ll only ever accuse her of doing so whenever she actually wasn’t. It’s not illegal or forbidden if no one ever finds out. The stakes can be pretty high, she’s not afraid to play for money either. But I advise you to maybe play over gummy bears or lollipops or something. She won’t be happy, she will complain, but it beats losing all your money to a businesswoman of her caliber.

When she was a kid she actually didn’t mind Christmas all that much, she quite liked it. It was colorful, it was bright, it was nice. Her parents may not have been the richest people, but she usually got what she wanted for Christmas as well, so it wasn’t a particularly sad time for her back then. Even now her cartel is doing well during that time since people like to fill the gaping holes within their hearts with drugs so they won’t have to think about being alone and freezing during such a festive time. She doesn’t get jolly like she used to, she won’t even wear a Christmas hat, but she can appreciate Christmas, if just for her earning a bit more money than she normally would. You can even give her gifts during this time. Depending on who they’re from and what it is, she might just throw them away, but if it’s something nice from someone she’s close with then she might just keep it for a little while longer. Although Valeria would never admit it, she does like cookies quite a lot. She can’t bake particularly well, not that she has the time for that either, but that won’t stop her from eating a few whenever she receives some from a trustworthy source. There is an elderly lady in Las Almas who she likes to buy them from occasionally. That lady is a real sweetheart, so Valeria is sure the cookies aren’t poisoned.

No one ever gets to enjoy it anymore these days, but Valeria can cook pretty well. She learned how to very early on so she could relieve her mother a bit from her burdens, but it stuck with her. She has a real knack for how much spice you put in which dish. Yes, she’s a bit rusty since she hasn’t cooked for herself in quite a while, but if you’re her s/o and you’re sick, you might just receive some birria or carne guisada. It’ll be unlike anything you’ve ever tasted. Her food is a bit spicy, so if you’re not used to spicy food it can and will leave you teary eyed, but it’s really good. Naturally, her specialties include, for the most part, Mexican dishes only. But, in theory, you could give her any recipe and it would turn out just fine. Except for anything sweet. Sweets she cannot do at all, they’ll always turn out terrible. It used to get to her when she was young, but these days she couldn’t care less. She isn’t anyone’s housewife, so why should she care? Back in the day when she still had time for dating someone properly, a telltale sign she was mad at you would be her cooking for you, but making it unbearably spicy. Valeria could always eat it, she can eat any spicy pepper as a snack just like that and not be bothered at all.

Romantic:

It doesn’t matter who you are, Valeria will always be the dominant person among the two of you. Her personality alone won’t allow for much else, but there are also other circumstances as well. Besides, she’s been in the military and she can tell you from experience that the people there don’t think too highly of women. Ergo she wants to prove herself to be above those morons, especially Alejandro. While she might not be affectionate at all in public, it’s the small things in private that really show you who’s in control. Beckoning you closer with her finger, telling you how much of a good thing you are for her, moving you a bit so she can get to something she needs. Granted, it’s nothing big, she won’t put a collar on you, but she will do what she can to make you feel smaller than you actually are. It doesn’t matter if you’re 1,50m or 2m tall, whether you’re looking up at her or down on her, you will treat her with utmost respect. While she might seem degrading or mocking very often, she does take your feelings into account as well. If her being mean to you genuinely hurts you then she will do what she can to tone it down a bit. She won’t stop entirely, but she’ll better herself. You’re welcome to sass her back a bit, though. If it’s just some light joking around she won’t mind. Sass her back too hard and you will be put into place, though.

Going off of one of the previous points I made: Once Valeria loves you, she is completely and entirely committed to you. It doesn’t matter what you want, you’ll get it within days. You want someone’s head? Absolutely, no questions asked. Even something smaller, such as some clothing, jewelry, a video game console, a plushie. You name it, you’ll get it. You’re her everything in this rotten world, of course she’ll do what she can to keep you happy. And if one of those goons from the army ever tries to hurt you, then even the ninth layer of hell will seem like the greatest mercy the heavens and hell could muster. She’s fiercely protective over you. While she won’t kidnap you, she wants to keep you happy, after all, she will try to convince you to live with her. Somewhere in a place no one knows about, where it’s only you and her without a worry for those two pests, Alejandro and Rodolfo. If you ever were to meet those two then I can assure you, you’ll never see Valeria this angry again. She loathes those two men with her entire being. Not that she has a very high opinion of men to begin with. If one ever decides to lay his grubby, disgusting hands on you, regardless of whether it’s some guy from the streets or the president of the United States, he can say goodbye to his head.

As I said before, she’s a really good cook. In fact, she’s good at just about anything you can think of. Well, almost. Either way, she’d love it if you could cook well. In fact, having someone who’s willing to be a housespouse is a dream come true. She won’t always be able to come home to you immediately, but if she finds you having cooked her a delicious, hearty meal, she’ll be on cloud nine. But even if your food isn’t anything noteworthy she’ll still eat it because it’s from you. She may be a cruel woman at times, but Valeria does care about you and tries not to hurt your feelings too much. At best, not at all. If she comes home to your shared home being well taken care of by you, with you having cleaned all the rooms as well as all the clothes that needed washing, you’ll have earned something nice from her. If you aren’t able to do so, no worries, she can always just hire some personnel to take care of it. But if it was you, then just name what you want from her. You want some cuddles or a kiss? Naturally. Some tres leches or churros? She won’t make them herself, but you can bet she’ll get you some regardless. If she’s especially tired some sweet words might be exchanged as well, but don’t expect her to be like that every time. Sometimes she does want to be a bit sweeter than usual, tell you how grateful she is to have you, but she’s afraid you might think of her a bit less than before, even if it wouldn’t happen. So, while she may not be someone who enjoys giving words of affirmation unless she needs to, you can count on her showing you affection through gift giving and quality time.

[rymndsmth]

come to me (namor)

warnings: uhh su*c*dal undertones, bpwf spoilers, probably plot holes but let’s ignore, it gets..nasty in a good way, google translate, I think that’s it but if not lmk and have fun I guess??

Streams of salt had caressed your face long before the rain came down. Too many times you’d been here before, mentally and physically. Why did everything end? And why did it always leave you feeling like you were being ripped apart like the storm bearing palms above your head? 

It was dark, nearly too dark. The moon’s light had been all but obscured by the thick clouds. Yet, there was just enough illumination for you to make out the small cay in the distance. It had been abandoned long ago by some tycoon that once resided in the now crumbling ruins of an estate tucked deep between wild foliage. 

Your friend, former friend, would sit on this very shoreline with you and whisper lofty aspirations into the air. I want to have enough money to own my own island, and we can drink and dance and bathe in the sun until we turn into raisins. Then, she would turn to you and always ask the same question, knowing about your strange ability. Have you ever swam to it?

The first time you’d discovered this inexplicable thing was at the age of five. An unspoken rite of passage by all natives, children being taught to swim by elders tossing them just deep enough into the sea. You were, of course, petrified as the water seemed to swallow you whole. 

Then there was nothing. No flailing, no panic, no screams. You opened your eyes that didn’t even dare to burn as a small school of fish rushed by. And then you realized your lungs weren’t protesting. 

In fact, they were expanding and contracting, but you weren’t inhaling. You were somehow breathing. Somehow submerged under crests of cerulean, you were breathing as if your toes were still tucked into warm sand. 

When you floated back up, no one said a word to you. The elders simply clapped as they watched you paddle back to shore, offering you an ice pop as a treat. Their lack of reaction, in your juvenile mind, made you believe that what you’d experienced was normal. 

So you thought nothing of it when you transferred to a school with a swimming pool, and dove to the bottom to sit for minutes. Bodies of your classmates rushed in, yanking you out of the water. They gasped and heaved and shook you. Maybe it was animal instinct that propelled you to do the same, eyes darting to take cues to see how you should be reacting as you mimicked their fear. 

The only person who noticed was your then friend. She kept it to herself, not even daring to bring it up to you until a few weeks later during summer break. Her usually boisterous voice was timid as she asked you to show her. And you did. Since then, she’d ask you that same question and your answer was the same every time. No. 

As curiosity instinctually dictated, she would further probe. Why not? You know you can easily make it. To that, you were never brave enough to conjure an honest response even though you thought it. What if someone saw you? There was already the risk of her knowing, but you trusted her. Not everyone would share the innocent fascination. 

Even truer than those fears was the fact that you were too afraid. You’d never tested yourself beyond a few minutes below the surface, scared that you would lose a grip on whatever made you have the ability to breathe. Scared that you would wash up lifeless. 

You peeled your rain drenched shirt from your body, and slipped out of your leggings to tie them around your waist. What was the point of letting the possibility of drowning scare you now? There was nothing left here for you anyway.

Though you truly believed that all the way down to your bones, you were still crying as you stepped into the raging ocean. They were only wiped away as you submerged, your legs sweeping behind you, arms slicing a path before you as you swam. 

Minutes to an hour could’ve passed by the time you were crawling onto the distant cay’s sand. You were exhausted, winded from the strain on your muscles as you rolled onto your back to glance at the sky. The rain had stopped and the moon had been uncovered. 

You smiled, and then laughed. 

It hadn’t even occurred to you that you’d make it this far, so you had no clue of what to do now. You began to think that you should rest up and swim back, that would be the smart thing to do. What wasn’t was what you actually did.

You fought your way back into your pants and delved into the bushes in search of this hidden estate. Using your toes to sweep before you stepped, you snaked through trees until you laid your eyes upon something you thought only existed in movies. 

The structure was worse for wear yet still beautiful. Remnants of a gate welcomed you and you strangely weren’t afraid to accept. Once you’d crossed the threshold, it was as if the air stilled. 

The once singing bugs had ceased along with the rustling of leaves. You turned your head back to look behind you only for it to snap back forward at the unmistakable sound calling from within the ruins.  

Come to me. 

There was no plea in its inflection. It was a command. In the same way your late mother would summon you when you’d done something to displease her, the voice spoke. In the same way your feet would carry you to her though you knew a scolding awaited, you walked towards it. 

There was no longer a door at the home once you padded up the driveway. The fine hairs on your arm stood to attention despite the humid air as you pivoted left, footsteps leading you down a passage that took you to descending stairs. 

You blinked, confused at what you saw peeking from below. A soft glow, a source of light emanating from whatever laid at the bottom. You were overcome with the feeling that you were trespassing, unwelcome, and whatever was down there was going to punish you for it. Yet still, you took the steps one by one until your feet hit even ground. 

At the sight of what laid before your eyes, you could’ve fallen to your knees. The ground in the middle of the room had completely caved in, leaving a large pool of water. All the way above it, the roof too had been lost, letting the moonlight cascade in. And between it, suspended in the air, was what looked like a man. 

He looked like a man, but being was a more appropriate term. No man you knew had winged feet, pointed ears and were covered in ancient yet polished adornments. No man you knew could float over to your frozen figure with eyes that burned. Eyes that softened when he landed to tower over you, head tilting as he walked an excruciatingly slow circle around your body until he returned face to face. 

His tongue floated a foreign language into the air. He tilted his head again, and you realized he must’ve asked you a question. The being practiced surprising patience as he waited for your reply. 

“I-I don’t understand you.“ Your voice was rough. “I don’t speak…what you speak.”

“Do you not know what you are?” He asked in your language with a melodic accent. 

Despite the furrow of your brow and the part of your lips at his inquiry, you knew your confusion masked what you truly felt. It was as if your soul had sighed finally. Though the answer to his question was no, you didn’t know. 

You know what you were told by the world you’d been born into, by the learned behaviors, and socialization. But no, you didn’t know. All that you had been certain of since that very first time was that you weren’t the same as those who you lived among. 

It made you feel isolated. You suffocated under this unknown truth, the truth that he seemed to be the only one to have knowledge of. The truth that he appeared to ache to give to you as he extended one large hand, and said: 

“Come, let me show you.” 

Any hesitation was brief if at all. His palm was much warmer than expected when you accepted his invitation, walking forwards as he treaded back until you were both neck deep in the water. The being gave you a reassuring nod, both hands falling to your waist. 

And then you were sinking. 

Falling deeper than you ever have before. It terrified you to watch the light above diminish to nothing, darkness embracing you both. How was he able to see, you wondered. 

A question that would quickly be answered by your own senses that shuddered awake like a vehicle that had once been forgotten. You think you saw him smile then, but your eyes still adjusting to your surroundings left you unsure. 

The descent felt endless. Your feet pointed, searching for the seemingly never coming end. What had to be hundreds if not thousands of meters below, the impossible occurred. There was light coming from beneath you. 

He dropped his hold on you to take your hand again, rolling his body in practiced grace to swim head first towards the source. You did so not nearly as beautifully, eyes growing wider as the distant blur morphed into a landscape. A city not placed randomly, but carefully planned and constructed. And so, so many people. From infants to elders and everything in between, they swam and laughed and played. 

If it weren’t obvious by the regalia adorning with his tanned skin, it was cemented by the way everyone you passed cleared a path. He was their leader, their king. They all offered a greeting, a bow of the head and palms appearing to hold an invisible orb. It was one he returned kindly as you followed closely to a large temple looming in the heart of the underwater city. 

You were already speechless and amazed, but that paled in comparison to what you felt when you emerged from a small pool to find that you were inside stoned walls. Even further, it was completely dry leaving you with the ability to breathe through your nose. 

“Where are we…who are you?” Your eyes swept around the room. Beautiful murals covered nearly every inch, bursting in color, sharing a narrative never seen in any book you’d read. 

“My people call me K’uk’ulkan.” He spoke, combing his hair back with one hand before helping you from the water. “And this is Talokan. A place created for my people to protect them from outsiders.”

That last word made your blood run cold, something he seemed to sense. His dark gaze landed on yours and your breath hitched. It relayed a multitude of things that you couldn’t put your finger on. 

“I’m not from here.” The statement felt silly falling past your lips. That much was obvious, though if examined your true implication would be caught. Why did you bring me to this place? Me, an outsider, the clear threat you’re protecting your people against?

“But here is where you belong.” His reply came to the unspoken question.

The being picked up a robe that had been folded on a stool and handed it to you. It was more than appreciated, a small thanks relayed to him as you covered your wet skin. He continued onto the mural covered walls with you on his heels. 

“This tells the story of how we came to be.” He began.

It was a tale that started with something you actually knew. The brutality of invasion, it’s cruel and methodological execution. Desperation of the oppressed, the willingness to do anything to survive. A gift from the gods found by a shaman to offer the solution. 

An iridescent plant lead to the creation of his people, but left them with no choice to dwell among creatures of the sea. His mother was pregnant while consuming this strange herb. She gave birth to him underwater, a child strikingly different from other Talokanil. A miracle who would be king. 

Decades passed before he returned to land to lay his mother to rest, only to be met with horrors beyond comprehension. The result of a tamed reaction to highly monstrous behavior was a child being unfairly branded as sin amor for eternity. After such a devastating encounter, he decided to keep his people in isolation for safety.

“Your mother,” He turned to you. “Is she human?”

You blinked, eyes dropping to the ground. “She was.”

That you were sure of. She didn’t hold the same capacity to breath underwater like you did. Warm fingers jolted you, curling around your jaw to lift your head once again. The look he gave you mirrored on you’d seen in your own reflection. Of course, after centuries of living he knew loss better than anyone. 

“And your father?” His voice was softer. 

“I know nothing about him.” You shrugged. 

He made a sound and nodded. 

Two Talokanil entered the room. They appeared to be high ranking based on their clothing and weapons. An exchanged was made in the strange language he’d spoken to you initially before the male warrior departed. 

“Namora will take you somewhere to eat and rest.” He peered at the woman that lingered near the door. 

There was something about the way he spoke. Every word he said carried conviction, leaving no room for rebuttal. He talked, and everybody else listened. You awkwardly shuffled away in compliance with his command. 

Namora didn’t utter a single word to you as you followed her along the stone corridor. You tried not to stare at the passing faces, though they surveyed you until you were out of eyeshot. The quarters you were taken to was anything but quaint. 

Though minimal, it was what you imagined esteemed guests of royal families occupied on visits. There was a large bed sunken in the middle of the floor, a pedestal tub seemingly cut from a precious gem to the corner in the right, a dressing area to the left, and a small table with two chairs beside the entry. 

“Food’s on the table, and clothing’s on the bed.” The silent soldier spoke before leaving. 

You hadn’t even noticed the much needed garment at the foot of the bed, or the fact that you were starving until your stomach caved at a familiar scent. A plate of steamed fish and fresh vegetables were uncovered, and you wasted no time consuming it all. 

The lack of privacy with the exposed bath gave you pause. After short deliberation, you decided the quicker you got it over with, the less of a chance you’d be disturbed. Once that assumption was confirmed, you slipped on the soft cream dress left folded for you. 

For the first time since…everything you thought you knew was obliterated, you had a moment to think. Sleep came eventually, but not before your mind ran a marathon. 

A whole new species, and entire settlement lived right beneath you this entire time. History knew nothing of it or its inhabitants. Talokanil that you somehow descended from. 

With never knowing your father, you would most likely never get the answers to who or what he truly was. That didn’t seem to matter much to you anymore because for once, you didn’t feel out of place. You might not have been born here, and might be looked at as an outsider to those who were, but K’uk’ulkan’s words resonated deeper than any of that. Here is where you belong. 

Which begged the biggest question: would you stay? There were countless times in your life you’d asked yourself that. The only difference between then and now was the fact that you’d found somewhere that you didn’t have to hide. A place to live, to be yourself unashamed and unafraid. 

When you rose from you slumber and met with K’uk’ulkan per his request, he posed to same inquiry. Your answer was swift and sure, matching the conviction with which he’d spoken to you with before. Yes. 

From that moment forward, you got to know your new home. 

The Talokanil were the epitome of a community. They worked together to create a well oiled machine of a society. Everyone completed their role not for some bottom line or individualistic aspiration, but because it was what was needed. What they took joy in. 

You found your place in the garden. Helping the others grow and tend to fruits and vegetables that you all harvested to eat in a vast dining hall. You’d began to pick up bits and pieces of their language, naturally the words that made children giggle were the first of them. 

From time to time, but admittedly not nearly as often as you’d liked, you saw K’uk’ulkan. He would sometimes accompany you as you swam to the garden, or walk with you along the temple corridors. Your seamless adjustment pleased him. When he smiled at hearing you describe your time so far to him, you found yourself wishing he’d do it more often. 

It was difficult not to think about him. His towering height, perpetually bare abdomen, thighs chorded with strong muscle and shorts that left very little to the imagination above them. It was difficult to quell your natural urges as well. A shameless amount of nights found you relieving yourself of mounted pressure to his image. 

Weeks had passed by like that. 

You floated amongst the people, occasionally tangling in spins and twirls as you danced in celebration of a highly fruitful harvest. Some kids managed to rope you into a ball game, which went better than expected given that you’d had some sweet wine. 

Festivities continued, and showed no signs of slowing even as you bowed out. Making your way back to your chambers, you spotted K’uk’ulkan. You greeted him formally, not expecting much of an exchange until his hand closed around your wrist. 

“Did you enjoy it?” He asked, stepping behind you. 

Your breathing shallowed, head tilting to follow his movement. His body was so close that you felt his warmth. Every ounce of strength you contained had to be called upon for you not to push yourself back. Just the slightest arch would brush you against him. 

“Yes, it was the best night of my life.” You managed to get out. 

“So far.” There was a hint of a smile in his voice. 

You repeated his words with inflection covered in confusion, posed back to him as a question. So far? Normally you wouldn’t dare to speak as you did in that moment. Perhaps it was the wine going to your head, or the warmth pooling between your thighs that made you feel bold enough to do so. 

“I see a better one in the future,” His voice travelled until his lips hovered by your ear. “But I need to be sure before that happens.”

Your eyes darted to the side and you wished you hadn’t dared to look. He anticipated your move, immediately locking in your gaze. Your lips parted, waiting for your tongue to regain control of itself to speak again. 

“Sure of what?” You whispered. 

K’uk’ulkan looked down at your exposed shoulder and then back to you. “That you won’t break when I take you.”

By the time what he’d said had hit you, he was long gone. 

It left you in agony. Tormenting your mind that entire night and the days that followed. Wreaking havoc on your nerves each time you ran into him afterwards, his actions and words never once hinting towards those corridor murmurs. 

Why, you wanted to shout at him. Why would you say that to me with no further explanation? But mostly importantly, the thing you wanted to plead to him was, when? When would he deem you ready? 

It was a call that would be answered after you’d earned the respect of even Namora. The gardens were positioned on the furthest borders of Talokan, leaving it open to the odd stray that also inhabited the ocean. 

You’d noticed that the little boy who usually helped you trim plants had been gone for too long. It wasn’t unusual for kids to end up dragged away by friends, but your instincts told you otherwise. They were confirmed to be right when you swam outside to see him tangled in a struggle with a large octopus. 

Without second thought, you launched forward. Equipped with the overwhelming need to protect him and your small shears, you hacked at the limbed creature until it succumbed under your relentless jabs. 

The commotion drew the attention of others, all of who bore witness to your killing blow. A few warriors collected the octopus, pulling it to be prepared for a dinner in your honor that night. 

You grew bashful under all the fuss, especially knowing that anyone here would’ve done the same. But that was how the Talokanil were. Nothing was taken for granted, every reason to celebrate was done with the utmost reverence. 

A beautiful dress awaited you when you were sent to change in your quarters. The light blue gown with a dangerously low plunging neckline and two high slits billowed as you swam along a guard of honor. It held one road only, cutting through the city center to K’uk’ulkan who sat upon his throne in full ceremonial attire. 

You bowed before him and he greeted you accordingly. He floated down, extending a beautiful jade hilted dagger with an intricate design etched into its blade. Your fingers brushed his as you accepted, testing your grip under its weight. 

“Talokan owes you a life.” He said loud enough only for your ears. “How fitting would it be if it were my heir?”

The thousands of eyes all zeroed in on you had virtually been forgotten. You fell deeper into his brown eyes, sinking and sinking until you were snapped out of your reverie by a loud cry from towards the city. Na’akal, Talokan! 

They cried back the same, floating up in unison and surrounding you both. Cheers and praises rang out, hand brushing you adoringly as you were pulled along by their king through the mass of bodies.

K’uk’ulkan took you to his chambers that was vastly different from yours. His walls were covered in breathtaking patterns etched in every color imaginable. There was a large pool in the middle, a sprawling bed, and an impressive skylight that spanned the entire roof.  

“Before I start,” His fingers slipped beneath the straps of your dress. “I want you to touch yourself until you tremble. Do it to the thought of me, just as you have countless times before. Make yourself cum for me until I’m satisfied.”

You were shuddering long before you felt his lips against the back of your neck. This time, you didn’t hold yourself back from leaning into him. A gasped fell from your mouth at the feeling of his bulge against your lower back. He dropped your wet dress to the floor with one swift movement, pushing you with his hips in the direction of the bed. 

Your face was already hot, flushed with the blood that flowed to your cheeks. You slid back onto the mattress and spread your legs for him. K’uk’ulkan slipped into the pool not far from the foot of the bed, wading through the water so gracefully that ripples feared to form. 

He watched you intently as you swiped two fingers between your folds, shaking and shocked at the amount of wetness you already felt. You circled your clit, hips following the movement. Small pants melted into whimpers when you plunged them into your core. 

Your chest heaved, head lulling to the side as you fucked yourself for his pleasure. He took in your pussy that swallowed your fingers greedily, using them to chase release that thrashed in your stomach like a caged animal. 

When it broke free, you were crying out. With your velvety walls squeezing your digits with each wave, you shook and whined. After floating down from your high, your eyes found his. They blinked at you slowly. 

“Tu ka’atéen.” K’uk’ulkan commanded. 

Your bottom lip protested between your teeth as you complied. You pulled and pushed your hips back and forth, sliding from tips to knuckles. The noise of your juices spilling out of you echoed from the walls along with your soft moans. 

With your free hand, you balled the duvet in your fist. The second of the beasts escaped and all the air was knocked from your lungs. Your back arched, legs clamping shut on themselves as it wreaked havoc on its way out. 

“Tu ka’atéen.” He repeated. 

You wanted to curse at him. There was nothing more you wanted than for him to stretch you out, to make it known to all the ears still celebrating that you were his from your praising screams. You’d do anything for that. 

So with all you had, you propped onto your elbow and began to rub your clit. The tenderness of the nerve left you a writhing mess in milliseconds. Your hips jolted and spasmed, every instinct begging you to stop. Still, you continued until you were no longer able to hold yourself up. 

You collapsed flat onto the bed, breasts heaving as you brought yourself to another high. Tu ka’atéen. And another. Your vision had black spots by the time he rose from the water to join you in the bed. 

His cool hands cupped your face and finally, he kissed you. It was controlled chaos, navigated by the hot tongue and salty lips of its creator. Your hands threaded into his dark wet hair, tugging on the strands hard enough for him to nip your bottom lip in warning. 

“Will you bear my heir?” K’uk’ulkan rasped. “Will you be my queen?”

You nodded so frantically, so desperately that it nearly made your head spin. You’d do anything for him. Kill for him, die for him. He was beyond worthy of such sacrifices. 

For him to utter such words to you was perplexing, but you didn’t care enough to delve into semantics. There was never a time where he didn’t mean what he said. This occasion marked you as no different. 

“Je’el.” You breathed.

That was all he needed to hear before he was making true on his promise. 

The harvest celebration felt like child’s play in comparison to what he did to your body. K’uk’ulkan dove between your legs, lapping up all the ruin you’d created at his relentless requests. 

His name fell like a chant, a praise, a prayer from your parched lips. Your legs dared to struggle against his iron clad grip that forced them to remain on either side of his head. Tears flowed to the pillow below as you slurred incoherent sentences. 

A string of pleas. Simultaneously begging for him to stop making you feel so damned good, but to fuck you so deep that you didn’t know where your body ended and the mattress began. 

With a cruelly slow push of his hips, his cock entered you until his body was flush to yours. Your legs wrapped around his waist, keeping him locked there as he began to thrust in and out at a steady pace.

K’uk’ulkan’s large hands pressed your hips down, steadying their foolish attempt to speed things up. He wanted to feel every ripple of your pussy, to feel every micro-reaction his girthy cock drew out of you. Your nails raked at his back, teeth sinking into his shoulder with his tip just reaching but deliberately not touching the spot that craved him the most. 

“Please…” You pulled back to press your forehead to his, eyes shining. “Please, I…”

“Shh,” He hushed you. “You’re doing so well, in reina.” 

His words made you whine, your head collapsing back onto the pillow. He dipped his head to lap up the sweat stuck to your skin. From your collarbones to your breast, his tongue licked and his lips sucked as he continued the tortuously slow strokes that evaded your g-spot. 

It was both a moment of relief and a shock that left you screaming oh fuck when he placed your legs over his shoulders, giving you what you’d begged for. K’uk’ulkan drove his cock powerfully, mercilessly into your pussy. Right beneath your navel you felt him hit and bottom out, over and over and over. 

A high pitched cry ripped its way out of you, toes curling as you bucked so wildly that even he struggled to tame you. Your hands grasped wildly all around, moving up his back to his shoulders and to his neck. 

K’uk’ulkan made the most glorious sound when they brushed the pointed tips of his ears. It lit something ablaze in him, compelling him to sit back on his heels and taking you with him. His hands grabbed your ass, using you to work his cock. 

Another string of unintelligible words were drawn from you. He grew more vocal, groaning and grunting against your mouth. And with the single most beautiful noise you’d ever heard, he shot his warm seed deep into you. 

Connected with him in every was more than enough, yet you hungered. You wanted him again and again until his gaze alone made you recoil from overstimulation. You craved to taste him, for him to use your mouth until your throat was raw. 

All fantasies he made come to life, and then some. K’uk’ulkan never tired of you nor did you of him. The solstice gave way for the equinox and there you both remained, panting and shaking in tandem. 

You managed to stay apart long enough to at last complete a formal union ritual. Your body was cleansed in a sweet milky bath before it was adorned in a striking gold gown made of vibranium. A matching headpiece was bestowed to you for the final touch. 

The entire city watched as you appeared, your king waiting for you at his throne. K’uk’ulkan beckoned to you with an outstretched hand: 

“Ko'oten tin wiknal.” 

Come to me. 

You ascended. 

[warsofasoiaf]

Thoughts about Donald Trump convictions? On the one hand he does seem to be guilty and his lawyers were atrocious on the other hand there does seem to be a bit of a stretch on what law he broke, and kinda validates the everyone breaks a law because there are so many argument. Granted he is possibly the most unsympathetic defendant in America but does that justify a questionable prosecution?

Honestly? This trial was Trump's defense's to lose, and they lost it bad. The matters of law were quite arcane and esoteric. It wasn't necessarily a "stretch" as far as law is concerned, but the particulars of the law are eye-glazing at best. The Trump defense was completely scattershot and incoherent, harping back on points that they already failed, ignoring easy defense wins like the self-admitted liar and thief Michael Cohen (any defense lawyer would be salivating at such a witness), and in general appearing disorganized and unconvincing. I wouldn't say the prosecution was questionable. At worst, the jury would have been confused on whether the hush money payments happened versus whether it was done solely for electoral reasons, but that didn't appear to be the case. And even if it was, that would be the fault of the judge for inadequate jury preparation and instruction.

I don't think it will change anyone's attitudes as far as the election is concerned. The people that believe that Trump is being unfairly crucified by lawfare deployed by a desperate Joe Biden would have their convictions reinforced regardless of the trials outcome. Likewise, those who believe Trump is manifestly unfit for office are unlikely to have had this particular seedy element of Trump's character define their opinions. The fake electors trial and the classified documents trial are better indicators of unfitness for office, and those won't be addressed until after the November election is over.

I don't think the GOP is going to abandon Trump any time soon even if he loses the election. He'll be held up as a martyr of unfair conservative persecution probably for the next ten years, held as a pattern of behavior up with the IRS targeting scandal. The accusations of the "weaponization" of the justice system will persist.

Overall, Trump will lean into this conviction to sell the brand of an unfairly persecuted target, and this has been the case for a while now. People are willing to eat it up, because Trump, despite all his flaws, is quite good at selling a brand. He was a mediocre businessman but sold himself as a successful tycoon because it was a carefully-constructed brand - it "looked" successful to an outsider and belief forms truth. He's going to continue selling that brand and evoke the fear that "they're going to come for you next," because fear sells in an election. That's never been unique to any one time or one political party either.

Thanks for the question, James.

SomethingLikeALawyer, Hand of the King

[windwheeler-aster]

in the shadows

summary: the life of a spy is a dangerous one... and it certainty complicates their love lives.

masterlist

pairings (separate): diluc, kaeya, childe, zhongli, and xiao x reader 

reader info: uses gender neutral pronouns (they/them), reader is a spy (diluc, zhongli, xiao) or a target (kaeya, childe), and reader is not traveler

word count: 4,397 words (16 min~) // 880 words per character (3 min~)

genre: Spy AU, Modern AU, romance

format: headcanons and blurbs

warnings: violence (mentions of knife, gun usage, assassinations), cursing, kind of suggestive themes (kayea’s part), reader being hospitilazied for injuries/being on a lot of medicine (zhongli’s part), and brain damage/injury mentions (xiao’s part, reader)

a/n: wow... i really can’t believe i started posting to this blog a year ago yesterday. it’s amazing how far i’ve come since that moment... and i wanted to thank you all for the continuous support since then💖 to another year of writing! 

song recommendation: Play With Fire (feat. Yatch Money) by Sam Tinnesz

diluc ragnvindr, a fellow spy at your agency

he’s known around the agency to be a master of roleplay and disguise

rumors have it that he sometimes completely disappears into a role when assigned the longer missions

the higher ups love him, of course, so he always gets missions with the best pay

not that he needs it, though

another popular rumor amongst the paper-sorters of the agency is that mr. ragnvindr is secretly the heir to the largest wine tycoon in the country

being one of the on-field members of the agency, you know that rumor is true

and it peeves you off to no end that this already rich man is getting... well, richer

but... he’s still diluc, the best person to fall into any role needed

and, of course, your agency has paired you two up on a mission where diluc and you must pretend to be the perfect couple to protect a treasured client of the angency’s (read: the company’s biggest investor)

it’s almost unbearable for you

but the way diluc holds onto your waist, his forearm pressed against the small of your back, makes you think otherwise

and maybe, just maybe, mr. ragnvindr isn’t as horrible and stuck-up as you predicted him to be...

Another one of the servers came floating by your circle, offering glasses of champagne to everyone. Your target, an older gentleman, folded in half with laughter as he struggled to tell a joke. He accepted a glass of champagne, as do the two people standing closest to him. When the server turned to you and Diluc, you eye the flutes of beige-colored liquid with an appreciative gaze. 

But then Diluc’s fingers pressed gently into your side, causing you to look at him. 

We need to keep our minds focused, his eyes say. 

We need to fit in, you argue silently. 

But you comply to Diluc’s suggestion. You look at the server and dismiss them with a polite nod, and then turn back to the conversation at hand.

“— and he said to me,” the target wheezed, holding onto one of the other guests’ shoulders for support, “‘If you keep treating me like this, you’ll be losing your best employee!’” he wheezed again, and then said his punchline, “And I told him, ‘I’m not looking to retire anytime soon, young man!’”

The group chuckled, you and Diluc having to force a laugh to play along. When your eyes met, a look of understanding was shared between you two. Sleazy C.E.O.s, the worst clients the agency can give us.

Your target looked over to you and frowned. Panic seized your heart as you shifted your weight onto your other leg, leaning into Diluc more. What’s his problem? Do we not look... couple-y enough or something? Crap, is he going to blow our cover and cause a huge fuss because of it? I swear to the archons above if this fool tries anything I’ll—

“Mr. and Mx. Ragnvindr,” your target greeted. “You still haven’t helped yourself to some drinks. How come?”

Shit. You looked to Diluc with panic. Out of everything you two prepared for, a reason to not drink was not one of them. Archons above know that this man wouldn’t listen to a simple explination if it depended on his life. So you both struggled for a heartbeat before Diluc opened his mouth, an excuse on the tip of his tongue.

“Although we appreciate the offer, my love and I—”

But before Diluc could continue, a shrill scream echoed across the room. You both leaped away from one another and stood in front of your target, your backs facing him. As you and Diluc reached for your concealed weapons, you both heard party-goers begin to shout. 

“Shit, he has a knife!” 

“Everybody, get down!”

“A knife? At my party?” your target grumbled from behind you two. 

But before he could get himself hurt, Diluc stopped him.

“Sir, I will have to ask you to sit back and let the professionals handle this,” he murmured, glancing at you with a sly grin. “Ready, love?”

You smirked and quickly pulled out your weapon, letting it flip in the air before you caught it by the handle, gracefully. 

However, you almost drop your weapon to the floor when you glance back at Diluc. Your cheeks were set aflame once you realize how hot— no, elegant Diluc looked in a suit. And the way his lips pulled from a tight-lipped line into a handsome grin almost made you buckle at the knees. 

But right now is not the time to get feelings, you reminded yourself.

“Of course I am, sweetheart,” you answer him, finally. Then, you add in a hushed whisper so your target couldn’t hear, “now let’s show this idiot why the agency sent their best agents to protect him.”

song recommendation: Sucks by RealLiveAnimals

kaeya alberich, a handsome stranger who has been talking to you for the whole evening

he’s handsome and suave, and not to mention smart as a whip

so for the entire evening, you two have been laughing and joking about the absurdity of this party

and you can’t help but catch the way he melts, ever so subtly, after you finish laughing

or how he guides you throughout the party, purposefully picking secluded areas so you two can hear each other over the noise

and even though you just met him today, kaeya made you want to spill every secret you had to him

which would have been perfect for kaeya— if you hadn’t stopped yourself from doing so

his agency had assigned him to pull secrets from you, someone who just so happened to be a close friend of another mission’s target

they had expressed for him to use any means necessary to get this information

which just translated to “seduce them” to kaeya, of course

although he’s had worst clients to seduce, kaeya was sure you’d crack by now

but you haven’t, and it doesn’t help that the chemistry between you two feels too natural for him

because the last thing kaeya needed was to fall head over heals with you

but with the way the moonlight streams down onto your face, it’s getting harder and harder for kaeya to resist the urge to kiss you

On the private balcony, Kaeya and you had the perfect view of the night sky. You gazed at the stars with an appreciative gaze while Kaeya’s eye wandered anywhere but the sky. As you made up constellations in your head, a quiet distraction from the handsome stranger, Kaeya shamelessly stared at you.

He burned the image of you into his head, secretly envying the stars who captured your attention. He memorized the way you held onto yourself, how your hands rubbed up and down your forearms. Kaeya also found it important to remember how the warm air left your parted lips, mesmerized by the white puffs of breath you let out. For the mission, he reasoned.

Although, nothing about the mission needed him to stare at your lovely lips. 

Perhaps it was just the moonlight illuminating you, making yourself irresistible to Kaeya. Your lips, so pretty and tempted to him, that make the competent spy lost in the throes of love. They were so tempting that Kaeya really did consider pushing himself off the balcony’s railing and juat kiss you.

But then he chastised himself for being so foolish, almost forgetting his purpose of the evening. So, Kaeya kept reminding himself as he gazed at your lips again. This is for the mission.

“What are you looking at?” 

It took Kaeya a moment to realize you had just spoken, which effectively snapped him out of his trance.

“Is there something on my face?” you fretted, grazing your fingertips over your face.

“No, it’s uh— it’s nothing, don’t worry about it,” Kaeya stuttered out. But then, quick to resume the task at hand, he added, “I just noticed how lovely you look under the moonlight.”

His heart leapt into his throat when you smiled. 

“Thank you, Kaeya.”

“No problem, darling.”

You looked back to the moon, your attention so easily stolen from Kaeya. He watched as you shivered, ever so slightly, and moved your hands over your arms even more now.

And, without much thinking, Kaeya unclipped his cape. The sound brought you back to him, although you seem confused. But then you realized what he was doing and quickly stepped aside from him, a poor attempt at dodging Kaeya’s kindness.

“Please, I insist,” Kaeya offered the cape to you, again. “I don’t want you getting cold. Alright, sweetheart?”

You eyed his cape, warily. “But what about you? Won’t you be cold without it?”

“I have plenty of layers on already. I’ll be fine without a few,” he said as he placed the cape over your shoulders. “I think I’d look better without a few layers, don’t you?”

The butterflies in his stomach, which he was not aware of until now, soared as you gave him a once over. He shivered under your gaze as you brought your gaze, ever so painfully slow, to his. Usually, his agency assigned him passive clients that always fell for his charms. However, your level of boldness was somewhat foreign to Kaeya. And, truthfully, Kaeya wasn’t used to this much attention from a client. 

But he was far from opposed to it.

He saw you bite your lip once you met his eye after one more once over of Kaeya. Although he should have been thinking about the mission, all thoughts of it were absent from Kaeya’s mind. His heart had began to ram against his chest and his blood pumped in his ears. There was no hope for him now.

Slowly, your hand reached onto Kaeya’s tie and you pulled him close. He was ashamed at the small gasp that slipped from him as you tugged him close to your face. From the tips of his ears to the very center of his nose, it all burned as he was too flustered to think about anything coherent.

Then, you finally answered Kaeya’s question.

“I think I’d have to agree with you, Kaeya,” you whispered dangerously. “Now, let’s go find somewhere more... private to prove this theory of ours.”

song recommendation: Killshot by Magaelena Bay

tartgalia, more commonly known as childe, is known as ruthless assassin

he’s a wonderful asset to his agency, as he’s very skilled in close and long ranged combat

his only draw-back was his unusual enthusiasm to killing targets

which didn’t matter much unless he was placed on seduction missions

when childe was placed on those missions, which was a rare feat on its own, he went to unsettling extremes to protect the target from attacks

safe to say, the agency quickly forbid him from those missions...

these days, childe now spends late evenings and nights on rooftops

he’s laid flat on the roof with a grey beanie shoved forcefully over his fiery orange hair, much to his displeasure

childe will lay there for hours, mostly humming a tune to himself as he awaits a voice on the other line of his communication device

of course, he’ll have enough time to read over the mission’s file

childe will even try to scope the target out, his eyes peeled for their face through the venue’s windows

usually after spotting them, he’ll just keep an eye on them as he awaits for further instructions

now, tonight’s mission was different. as childe was absolutely shocked when he had read over the mission file

because since when did the agency go after targets who were just so perfectly childe’s dream date?

Childe’s eyes skimmed the lines, over and over again. The words didn’t really sink in the first time, not until his third time reading it. But he was still so frantically obsessed with you, who would undoubtedly be perfect for him. Childe tried to read between the lines, going over every meaning of each word typed up. Each detail of you that he was given seemed compatible with him, even if some weren’t even close to his own ideals. 

He chuckled, quietly of course, as he poured over each word again. His mother always used to say he needed someone to “keep his head on his shoulders.” It was about time I found you, he thought with a devilish grin.

“Tartaglia,” an impatient voice snapped at him over the intercom, “are you even listening to me? Shit, did his intercom die or something? For f— no, Rosalyne, this is exactly why we don’t have Jared from accounting to prepare mission equipment.”

Nonchalantly, Childe pressed a single finger to his headset as he continued to browse your file like a teenager poured over a magazine. And he twirled a curl of hair, pulled out from beneath that damned beanie, and began to twirl it around his finger. 

“Good evening to you too, Scaramouche,” he said calmly. 

Childe smiled when he heard his partner fumble over the intercom. “Oh, you mother fu— you’re the worst, y’know that?” Childe could practically see him roll his eyes. “Did you get a chance to look over the mission file yet? You didn’t answer me the first five times.”

“Boy, did I ever.”

“Why are you talking like—” Scaramouche groaned as he connected the dots, “Tartaglia, please don’t tell me you—”

“—found my soulmate and already began planning my wedding?” Childe rolled his eyes as he finally closed your file. “Scara, you always know how to take the words right out of my mouth.”

“You idiot,” Scaramouche all but screeches over the intercom, causing Childe to flinch. “Do you even remember what your job is? You’re literally being sent to eliminate them—”

“Do you think the agency would make an exception? For me?” Childe asks, distracted. “I am their best assassin, after all. Surely I could spare just one target… and take them on a date afterwards, or whatever.” Another groan came from Scaramouche. “What? I’m just sayin’.”

“Do you realize how stupid you sound right now?” Scaramouche sighed. “Who knew you could get so easily love-struck by just a couple of photos and—”

“There’s pictures?” Childe all but screams. 

Before he can wait for his partner to continue, he hurls himself to the folder in question. In his love-fueled rush, he had forgotten to check the folder for anything more. He hurriedly grabbed the photos, acting like a starved man, as he caught his first glimpse of you.

If it was possible to fall in love again, Childe did so read then and there. Scaramouche, unfortunately for Childe, heard the ginger’s quick intake of breath as he feasted his eyes on you.

But then Scaramouche’s groaning pulled his attention away again. “Man, Rosalyne is not going to like this.”

“Do you think she’ll allow it?”

“She’s a big softie— of course, she’s going to allow it. But…”

“But, what?”

“I don’t know how Pierro, or even Capitano, would react… much less the Tsaritsa herself,” he murmured.

“Surely I can—”

“Shit, Childe, twelve o’clock,” Scarmouche interrupted. “They’re approaching the open balcony, alone.”

Instinctively, Childe lowered his eye to the telescopic glass as he leveled his gun. Soon, Childe saw your head bob through the crowds and find an escape to the open balcony. Subconsciously, his finger hovered near the rifle’s trigger before he quickly placed it elsewhere. From his perch on the rooftop, he watched you with such intensity that Childe was sure you could feel it from this distance.

“Childe, take the shot.”

He hesitated. “I… I can’t do this.”

“Dude.”

“Do not ‘dude’ me, Scaramouche.” Childe hesitated. Then he added, “Get Rosalyne on. I need to talk with her.”

“Ajax, don’t—”

“Just put Rosalyne on the phone,” he almost seethes, desperate for a life with you— a complete stranger to him if not for a small profile and collection of photos— controlling him entirely now.

Scaramouche sighed, for the final time. “Alright man. It’s your funeral, though.”

Better mine than theirs, Childe thinks as he begins to craft compelling reasons to grant you mercy from his agency.

song recommendation: Feeling Good by Micheal Bublé

zhongli is the agency’s best informant

he’s organized, easy to trust with those charming hazel eyes of his, and incredibly intelligent 

and not to mention the total heart-throb of the office

but zhongli is also incredibly professional

if you’re ever in contact with him, expect prim and proper emails, texts, document notes, and even manner of speech

but when zhongli is paired for your missions? that’s all seemingly out the window

he’s sweet and kind towards you, greeting you with a warm smile every time he sees you

and zhongli even brings you your preferred drink to your desk

he says its so you can hydrate and keep yourself alert while writing out your mission report

but truthfully, zhongli just wanted another excuse to see you

especially when you have been going on even more dangerous missions as of late

zhongli really hates seeing you all bruised and battered up 

and he practically seethes with hatred at your boss whenever you end up in the hospital after missions

so, he tried to take things into his own hands

just send them on a detour this mission, he told himself, editing the mission document he would give you tomorrow. give them a small vacation, then they can get back on the trail.

however, zhongli didn’t expect his plan to backfire so hard that you end up in the hospital

he hopes that you won’t connect the dots about this mission’s failure— at least until he gets into your hospital room to explain himself

In your injured state, you barely heard the first knock at the door. The doctors had you on so many different medications you could barely keep your eyes open, much less concentrate on your environment. But when you heard the second knock, you turned your head to the door. More so in annoyance than curiosity, as it was proving to be difficult to sleep with that damned knock distracting you.

But you were shocked to see Zhongli’s face in the door. He smiled once your eyes locked with his, but then turned to his right to look at something. After a moment, he nodded and began to open the door to your room.

“— make sure not to cause stress to the patient,” your doctor warned.

“Alright. Thank you,” Zhongli assured, facing the doctor as he closed the door. “We’ll only be a few minutes.”

“Good, because—”

But Zhongli had already shut the door. His shoulders relaxed as he let out a small sigh of relief. He glanced over his shoulder to you, more than relieved that you were all right. But then he was puzzled at what you were looking at, as it had caused your mouth to part. 

“Are… are those for me?” you tentatively asked.

Zhongli realized what you meant and looked down. In his right hand was a large bouquet of roses, the colors ranging from deep scarlet reds to pure whites. He felt odd for still holding them, as they were a gift for your recovery, so he began to walk over to you.

“I’ve never gotten flowers before…” you murmur as he places them in your outstretched hands. “Oh, Zhongli… they’re so pretty.”

“Do you like them?” he asked.

You smiled as you clutched them to your chest, “Of course I do.”

Zhongli smiled in return. For a moment, Zhongli stood over you as he admired how you inspected the flowers. But then you returned his gaze, unexpectedly, and he felt shy for the first time in… well, a long time, actually. 

He sat on the hospital bed, in a place where you did not occupy. For a moment, he struggled to find the words to express himself. He wanted to say he’s sorry for making you go through hell and back because he wanted to protect you. He wanted to explain why he wanted you to be safe. And he wanted to explain why that is, why he felt like only he could protect you. 

But you managed to speak before he did. 

“Thanks for visiting me,” you murmured. “I’ve never gotten flowers before.”

“Really?”

You chuckled, “Yeah. I guess I’ve never been the type of person that gets flowers… but thank you.”

Seeing that you were distracted, Zhongli swallowed his guilt and tried to apologize.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” he murmured, “something that I should have done—”

“Zhongli,” you carefully set the bouquet on your nightstand. “Can… Can it wait?”

He looked at your tired expression and gave in to it, even if the guilt was eating him alive. “Yes.”

“Thank you. All this medicine has been making me so tired. The doctor said it’s normal, but still…”

”Would you like to be alone?”

“No… no, don’t go,” you reached out for his hand, your movements sluggish when you finally captured his wrist in your grasp. “I still want to talk to you— I just can’t handle big news right now, doctor’s orders. Is it okay if we talk about something else though?”

“Of course,” he assured you, trying to brush off the guilt and hurt. Another time, he told himself. 

“Thank you,” you mumbled, “now, how was your day?”

Zhongli looked at you, who was probably on ten different medicines to keep you alive. You, who didn’t look your best after being shoved into hospital scrubs. You, someone he had been loving quietly from afar, who came back from the brink of death and acting so casually about it.

And Zhongli gazed at you with the same love-filled stare he had been giving around the office, during meetings, and whenever he thought you weren’t looking. But you looked so unbelievably happy when he gave you the roses, and even now you looked content just by being in the same room as him. And Zhongli, ever the love-struck fool at heart, decided it would be best to comply with your demands.

“My day was good,” he murmured simply as you already began to drift off.

song recommendation: Do I Wanna Know? By Arctic Monkeys

xiao, a long time rival of yours

he’s also a fellow spy, the best of his agency in fact

you’ve heard that he might as well be a rogue agent at this point, if not for his personal ties with the agency

and you’ve seen him in action before, on your own missions

xiao is quite... merciless towards his enemies

and he’s not much for conversation either. or cooperation, for that matter

and, hilariously enough, both your agency and his keeps assigning you on the same missions with the same targets

which has ended in you two, on multiple occasions, racing to get to the target first

because, for some reason, the rule of “first come, first serve” prevails the most between spy agencies 

and xiao isn’t afraid to do anything to win in this competition

he’ll leap terrifying heights and gaps between rooftops, he’ll tear down shelves to trap the target more easily, he’ll do practically anything

it’s almost like he’s actually hunting the target

which wouldn’t be far from the turth, but—

and you’ve always gotten the impression that xiao didn’t care about what happened to you

whether you won or lost the competition, he’d disappear a moment later

that was until he saw you, wounded in your failed attempt at catching your shared target

and suddenly xiao’s goal didn’t seem as important as before

You knew the mission was over as soon as you saw Xiao’s striking yellow eyes. 

He called your name tentatively, crouching down to where you were on the ground. Xiao was grateful that he couldn’t see any blood, but he didn’t let it show. 

He pushed you into a sitting position, gently cradling you against his chest.

“Xiao?” you murmur, trying to tilt your head up. “When did you get here…?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Xiao muttered as he made you look at him with a hand on your neck. “Does anything hurt?”

You shook your head, or at least tried too. With each passing second, it seems your eyes have been growing heavier and heavier. 

“Hey, stay awake,” he tried to say in a calm voice, but his nervousness overrode it. “Hey— hey, no, stay with me c’mon,” Xiao shook you, gently, which seemed to work. “Stay with me, please.”

You furrowed your brow at him. “Why are you—”

“Don’t question it,” he muttered, placing your arm over his shoulder. “Can you stand?”

You nodded, getting up on shaky legs as Xiao shouldered some of your weight. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” Xiao glanced at your cheek, as eye contact was proving to be too difficult when you kept looking at him like that. As much as his cheeks warmed at the gaze, he tried to blame that fond gaze you gave him on the potential brain damage.

You two started to walk along the pathway out of the warehouse. The agency will come and get the target, Xiao reassured himself. I’ll send them a memo explaining the sudden—

“Your eyes are pretty,” you blurted out.

Xiao blushed, completely caught off guard. “What?”

“Your eyes are really pretty,” you said with more emphasis, causing Xiao to blush even more. “I never got to see them up close.”

Xiao’s mouth remained separated for a moment. No sound came out except for the crack of his voice, which caused him to look away from you. 

You’re a trained spy and assassin, he said to himself, now is not the time to realize your feelings.

“You must have knocked your head on the wall really hard,” Xiao murmured, finally. “But, er, if it means anything to you… your eyes are really nice to look at, too.”

“Really? Then why won’t you look at me?”

As though it was a command and not a simple prompt, Xiao looked at you. His breathing stopped for a moment as he took in your features up close, unknowingly coming back to your lips over and over again. And yet he didn’t seem to notice how you did the same, mouth slightly parted as you drank in the image of Xiao. Each speck of yellow in his eyes, each strand of hair, the way his muscles tensed as he breathes shallowly— all of it, burnt into your memory now.

Xiao blinked and then looked away from you, coming to his own conclusion. 

Yeah. Definitely brain damage. 

taglist:

@x-zho @cxlrosii​

thank you for reading 💖 all forms of interaction to my posts are appreciated 💖

[bakuraryxu]

im going to lose my mind happy 20th anniversary to zoo tycoon 2 my favouritest game on the planet. there are still modders doing their thang including this guy who i desperately wish i could contact to give him money and or pussy bc hes releasing a biome update for the 20th anniversary and i cant WAITTTT to get it

[therealprismcat]

Top 5 rpgmaker games, Go!

(can be as mainstream or obscure as you like)

OOH I LOVE RPGMAKER GAMES!! I’m gonna make a whole ranking for these :3

(Honourable mention to paper lily rn, because I already know it’s not made with rpgmaker even if u weren’t referring to the specific engines used, but yeah!! I love paper lily!!!!)

5. It’s not me it’s my basement

It’s a short rpgmaker game about a kid who has a monster in their basement!!

4. Aconite

I had to go searching for it because I hadn’t played it in around a year and forgot what it was called- but it’s about a kid who tries to befriend his entire class and later his school, but it gets complicated. When I played it, it only had one day to play. There might be more to it, but it still says beta so likely not

3. Flesh, blood and concrete

It’s a game where you explore a creepy abandoned apartment. I wasn’t really expecting much when I played it, but it’s really interesting and I love the lore!! It’s also pretty short, and easy to play.

2. Pocket mirror

A game where you play as a girl who doesn’t remember anything, not even her own name. This one’s a lot longer, I don’t remember how long it took me to finish it though. There’s also a remake for it and a prequel (which I don’t know if it’s out yet?) But I’ve played neither. The remake is probably a lot less buggy, but the classic one is free.

1. Dead plate

MY CURRENT HYPERFIXAITON IM LOSING MY MIND OVER THIS GAME. my friends have unwillingly been subjected to it. It’s a tycoon themed horror game where you play as a waiter trying to earn enough money at a fancy bistro in order to win his ex girlfriend back!! If you’ve seen any of the fan content for this game you’d think it was a BL. ITS NOT. DONT TRUST THE FANDOM.

anyway yeah!! These r just my favs, check them out if you want!!

[strangernstranger]

The Deal

Arthur Havisham x Fem Reader

Summary: As a means to pull his family out of poverty, your father arranges a marriage between you and Arthur Havisham. (Enemies to lovers. Controlling character. Mentions of sex and virginity. Something I wrote forever ago for funsies but was too apprehensive to post.)

———

You arrived at the Havisham House, a knot in your stomach pulling tighter than your corset. You weren’t sure which was responsible for your shallow breathing, the garment or the realization you’d soon be face to face with your potential suiter. Nay, buyer. Drowning in unpaid debts, your family stood to lose everything. Your father told you since you were young, to survive in this world, one must be willing to sacrifice. Having nothing else to give, he offered up his only daughter. Your hand in marriage for a price. Arthur Havisham was intrigued by the deal.

He was a beautiful boy from a notable family. A long line of businesses tycoons and wealthy proprietors carried the Havisham name. Money passed from hand to hand from generation to generation. Arthur was to be next in line but under one condition. As his father’s last will stated the inheritance shall be granted only after Arthur sires a son. The only thing more important to the old man than money or the brewery was lineage. The Havisham name should be carried out for generations. That weight now rested on Arthur’s shoulders. Always impatient, the young man couldn’t be bothered to take the proper time to court a woman. And why should he when blessed with expendable money and privilege? Through whispers and murmurs around town, your father had learned of Arthur’s situation and decided to seize the opportunity. After all, who better to look after his little girl than a Havisham?

You hoisted your dress above your ankles, taking a careful step down from the cab. Your father offered his hand to escort you to the sprawling home with well manicured greenery. His smile was remorseful. He hated to give you up, but it would keep your mother and little brother housed and fed. Your father clung to the hope you’d find yourself with a kind-natured, well-to-do man whom you could learn to love. Someone to take care of you and allot you the lavish and ornate life your father always felt you were destined for.

“You’re making your mother and I very proud.” Your father cooed, sensing your anxieties as the door grew closer with every step. You offered only a nod. If you spoke, you might break. “Everything will workout, dearest. Love will find the two of you. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow. But it will” You gave your father a slight smile. Maybe he was right. What if instead of a nightmare, a fairytale life waited for you just beyond that door?

You were greeted and granted entry by a small red haired lady. A hired servent. “Please, come in!” She beamed. “Master Havisham has been expecting you.” She brought you out of the cold and into the foyer. The size of the single room was almost that of your family home. By the stairs stood Arthur, looking very much the Prince Charming archetype. He approached you, a regal air about him. Your heart beat quickened. Up until this moment, the potential arrangement felt bleak and dreadful, but the idea of calling such a beautiful man your husband excited you. You straightened your posture. Your first impression had to be perfect. You hoped you looked satisfactory for the handsome man.

“Mr. L/N, so good to see you again.” Arthur and your father shook hands. Your father seemed every bit as smitten as you were by his natural charm. “And this must be the lovely Miss Y/N.” Gently, he took your hand in his, placing a delicate kiss on the back of yours. The press of his lips on your skin was electric. “She’s even more beautiful than you described.” Arthur’s gaze rested on you, taking notices of all your feature. You blushed.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Master Havisham.” Your voice was silk and received with smile that radiated sweetness and warmth.

“Let me assure you, Miss L/N, the pleasure is all mine.” You were swooning at his words.

“I suppose I should leave you two to get better acquainted.” You father said with a slight nod. The servant woman led him away to another room to allow you more privacy. The minute your father’s presence left, Arthur’s sweet smile turned dry as merlot and soured on you. His brow lowered almost completely altering the soft appearance he presented in front of your father. He seemed much more stern now.

“You’ll do.” He said with an icy demeanor. The butterflies in your stomach were now being suffocated by the lump growing in your throat.

————

“You know, it’s bad luck to see the dress before the wedding?”

“I’ll take bad luck over poor taste.” Arthur retorted as he shuffled through the remaining gowns hanging on the rack. You frowned. This was the fifth dress and your favorite thus far. But nothing seemed to satisfy your husband-to-be. Perhaps you were the problem, not the dress. “Take it off.” His tone was cool but callous.

“Take it off? Arthur, It’s gorgeous! Just look at the-“

“Take it off.” It was every bit a demand which left you little to no room for protest. Arthur grabbed another dress from the garment rack and held it up to your body as if you were a mannequin for him to style. He thought you would look better in something that accentuated your body more. You looked clear over his shoulder to avoid his eyes. As beautiful as he was, at times you couldn’t stand to look at him. It had been a mere three days since Arthur accepted your father’s offer, but in that time Arthur made no attempts to mask the kind of person he was. Cruel with greed. If money wasn’t on the line, you doubted he’d ever marry. A lot of good a wife would do a man incapable of love. You wondered if his mother even held him as a child. “Look at me.” He demanded again, his voice lower, trying to be discrete. Your avoidance irritated him. Before he had the chance to bark another order, you interjected, pushing the gown in his hand away from your body.

“I’d much prefer this one, darling.” You bit back in spite. Stone faced as you stared him in the eye. That’s what he wanted after all? For you to look at him. You saw anger rising within him. How dare you defy him.

“Perhaps I should give you two a minute to decide.” The shop keeper’s tiny voice cracked as she tried to scurry away.

“No! Whatever dearest wants…she shall get.” Arthur bitterly complied. You had won the battle, but could sense the oncoming war. You feared you wouldn’t remain victorious much longer…

———

The cab ride back to the Havisham manor was painfully silent save for the clack of horses’ hooves on the stones below. What had you to say to a man like Arthur. You always imagined you’d be dress shopping with your mother. The two of you teary eyed in delight, anticipating the blessed day you’d walk the isle in your beautiful white gown. Instead, it was a tug of war with a spoiled man you had no choice but to pledge your life to. But as your father always said, life was about sacrifice. You just prayed it wouldn’t be your entire life. But if dress shopping with Arthur was any indication of what was to come, you knew you’d have to fight for every ounce of freedom and autonomy you had left.

“Your dress is hideous.” Arthur finally spoke. You were sure it was only to have the last word on the matter. You saw it as pouting. Pouting in the way a petulant child who doesn’t get their way would. “Seeing as it’s my wedding day as well, I thought it only fitting I at least pick the dress.” Everything else had already been planned for you. Food, flowers, guests.

“Your wedding day?” Arthur chuckled. You refused to acknowledge the fact he had turned to face you in that smug and scathing way of his. “My apologies. I forgot it was your money being spent on the occasion. And that it was your name I would be taking.”

“Last I heard, marriage was an equal partnership.”

“Last I heard your father sold you to me.” Arthur scoffed while you felt something deep inside pinch. “Like a piece of property.” His voice mocking and the words drawn out long, twisting the in wound he was creating. “You forget yourself, darling. I own you now. What I say goes.”

“Stop talking.” You blurted almost out of instinct. Your voice was a whisper but it didn’t go unnoticed. Arthur grabbed your chin with his gloved hand, forcing you to look at him once more.

“What did you say to me?” His expression was stern and frankly, frightening. His face just inches from yours, there was no ignoring the tears that had built and brimmed in your eyes. Arthur stared at you momentarily before he sighed sharply and released you. You turned away immediately, angry, embarrassed. You were sat so close your knees touched which further angered you. You made yourself as small as possible, scooting as close to the cab door as you could to create some kind of distance between you.

“Should I expect such defiance come the wedding night?” Arthur asked dryly. Your head snapped towards him with a shocked expression. The wedding night. You were aware of what that typically entails, but you were so caught up in making it to the alter you hadn’t gave it a second thought. Arthur laughed softly at you reaction. “What? Too crass for the virgin?” He grinned. Virgin? Surely your father wouldn’t have discussed such a thing with another man. Of course he would. It was likely a selling point. A pure woman seemed to hold more value than, well…others. Your cheeks flushed. Heat began to envelop you. Arthur’s laughter increased as he watched you silently squirm. How cute he thought.

“When we return home…I’d like to be alone.” You couldn’t stand a second more of his presence.

“Very well. You may return to your chanmber’s and I to mine. I’ll send Someone to check on you later.” And that was that. No contact for the rest of the evening. You’d say it was exactly what you’d hope for, but it wasn’t. So desperately you wanted closeness with Arthur. Not through proximity but through word’s and actions. You wanted to peel away at him layer by rotten layer until you reached his core. There you thought you might find a decent man. Or perhaps the harden heart of a child. One which was never properly nurtured or even stifled in it’s youth. A heart destined to repeat the cruelties it had to endured. Maybe if shown proper care, his cold nature would seize to exist. So badly you wanted that opportunity, but Arthur seemed rather comfortable keeping you at arms length. Your heart felt heavy knowing you’d never get that chance to be the wife you always wanted to be for someone. Only someone’s property. You journaled these thoughts with others in the silence of your room. There really wasn’t anyone to talk to in the Havisham house. Everyone stayed to themselves. Even the hired-help were brief in their interactions. The spacious and grandiose home felt almost cavernous with it’s quiet and lonesome atmosphere. The peace of the crackling fireplace and scribbles on parchment were interrupted by a knock at your chamber door. Must be one of the servants sent to check up on you, you thought. Before you had a chance to allow the visitor entry, Arthur saw himself in. Dressed darkly from head to toe. It was as if a shadow had crept into your room. You felt it too. You stood at attention as he waltzed in on his own accord, tension trailing his coattails.

“Master Havisham.” You addressed.

“We will be moving ahead with the wedding.” He announced. “Tomorrow.” Tomorrow!? The two of you weren’t supposed to wed for another three days. The sudden change made your head spin. You were still adjusting to your new surroundings and the idea of becoming Mrs. Havisham. It felt entirely too soon, but you were in no position to protest.

“Yes, sir.” You offered a nod and drew your focus on patterns in the hardwood while Arthur paced your room, inspecting.

“All arrangements have been taken care of. Your only concerns should be your dress and walking the isle.” As he spoke, something caught his eye. Your journal which lay open on the floor next to your armchair. Among other words, he noticed his name scrawled in black ink and cursive. Your heart sank. You made the sad attempt to retrieve the book before Arthur but he was too close and too quick to allow you the chance. He pinned his eyes to you as he rose up slowly, book in hand. He could see the nervousness in you. The shame. Your eyes were pleading though you hadn’t said a word.

“I see you’ve kept yourself entertained in my absence.” He began skimming it’s pages.

“Give it back.” You demanded harshly but we’re completely ignored. Your hands trembled at your sides. That book detailed your every fear, complaint and concern since being in the house. You knew once Arthur read it, your fate would be sealed. There would be no reconciliation. No mercy from his bitterness for the rest of your days.

“See to it that you get some rest. The next time we meet shall be at the alter where I will make you my bride. And do remember…it’s a joyous occasion. Look the part.” Not a hint of joy or excitement could be found on his face. He left the room without so much as uttering a goodbye, your journal tucked beneath his arm. You stood in the center of the room defeated. Tomorrow would begin your life sentence.

———

“You look breath taking.” Amelia fawned as she assisted in pinning your curls in place. You tried to smile but the nervousness in you created an unseen obstruction. “I know my brother can be a tad bit…harsh at times, but I promise he’s a good man.” You took a deep breath and put on a brave and somewhat happy veneer to the best of your ability. “I know he is. I can’t wait to be Misses Arthur Havisham.” You lied. The name tasted sour on your tongue. Laced in your dress, you were hurried out the door and into the corridor where your father waited for you. His presence was merely a formality seeing as how he had already given you away. Just something for appearances. As was everything else.

“Darling, you look beautiful.” He hugged you tightly before pulling you away, truly taking in how angelic you were in your white gown. You reminded him so much of your mother. As beautiful as she may have been, it didn’t go without notice that the years of toiling and poverty had left her dull and faded. Your father held the hope that your situation might preserve your vibrancy. But still, your facade was thin enough he could see the fear in you. “I’m sorry my love, I only did what I thought best. For you. Your mother. Your brother.” You forced a wide smile.

“It’s okay, father. I love Master Havisham.” You refused to address him by his first name. It humanized him too much for your liking. He may have been a man, but not one you’d ever have the pleasure to know. He was Master. As if encased in concrete, any indication of decent man would likely stay buried through your miserable years together. Your eyes began to wet the more you thought about it. A solitary tear broke free. Your father lifted his hand to dry the trail on your cheek.

“Oh, Y/N”

“Tears of joy, father.” You said to quell his guilt. “It’s a joyous occasion.”

The double doors parted before you, revealing the chapel filled with white lilies and gold candelabras. While beautiful, it reminded you of a funeral. The guest stood for your entry, a few marveling at you on your “blessed” day. Your father walked you step by step down the isle to the lull of string instruments. Their swells felt foreboding in your circumstance. But no casket waited for you at the end. Instead a priest and Arthur with a smile. It was reminiscent of the look he gave you the day you first met. When you were so naively charmed by him. How his features change so drastically when he smiles, you thought. His style of dress made him look princely. His gorgeous face and deep brown eyes soften on you as he took your hand from your father.

“You look stunning, Y/N.” You wanted to believe in his kindness, but you knew it to be false. He made that clear in the days prior. You fought the urge to make a snide remark about the dress but this was neither the time or the place. Arthur was playing the role perfectly, you assumed as should you. The guests seated themselves as the priest began to speak.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathering here today-“ You could hear your heartbeat in your ears, drowning the words as he spoke. The day had come. You were living it. In just a few short moments, your life would be forever changed. Arthur tugged at your hand lightly, leaning in close enough, you could feel his breath on your cheek.

“If you want to run, now is your chance.” He pulled back to look you in the eye. You looked at him dumbfounded. It had to be some sort of trick, yet not a hint of malice could be found in his gaze. You turned to see your family sat in the crowd. They looked proud and hopeful. If you ran away now, you would be destroying their chances of a better life. You couldn’t find it in you to do such a thing. Even if that meant suffering a life with Arthur. You would somehow make it work.

“I’m not running.” You whispered. A sense of relief washed over the groom. Likely relieved his plan hadn’t completely derailed in an instant. But if that were the case, why would he even provide you the option to back out? You sucked in a deep breath as it came time for you to recite the words which would bind you to Arthur forever. The words you repeated in the mirror earlier that day. Over and over again until they could be spoken without the presence of tears. You mimicked every word perfectly. You were a marionette in a grand production. Arthur cleared his throat.

“In addition to my vows, I would like to share a few words of my own.” Arthur motioned an usher forward. He carried with him a little, leather bound book. Your journal. The book that exposed you at your most vulnerable. He turned to the back page which held writing not of your own. He reached for your hand once more. Timidly, you obliged. He began reading from the page. “To hold your hand in another’s and pledge your life is not a simple task. Especially when you’ve spent your life valuing only yourself. The prospect of having another’s heart rest in your chest foreign when your own hath remained stationary for so long. To give yourself to another is the ultimate sacrifice. To give up everything to share a name, a home, a family. I am graced to have you stand here before me though I have given you very little reason to.” You stole a quick glance at the guest in their pews, confused and unsure of what Arthur may have been referring too. Majority of them were unaware of your arrangement and all of oblivious to the treatment you had received. You sensed sincerity in his voice. Were you being fooled again or had the callused man truly have had a change of heart overnight? Arthur squeezed your hand tighter as if to pull back your attention. A quiet urgency resting on his face. “I vow to match your strength with selflessness and sorrows with comfort. I vow to treat you with the honor and dignity you so deserve. And with you as my bride and I your husband, I hereby give my life to you.” With the priest’s permission, the declaration was sealed with a kiss. Yours and Arthur’s first kiss. It wasn’t one of passion but one of honesty and understanding. He cupped your face in his hands as he spoke. “Know that I mean this.”

———

The reception was smaller than the ceremony. The guest list divided by more than half. Arthur introduced you to other’s which shared the Havisham name. You were courteous and pleasant to all but were still taken aback by Arthur’s vows. The two of you hadn’t yet had a moment alone to discuss them. You wondered where you journal had gone and if you would ever see it again. You and your husband were sat at a table on display for the rest of your guests. You were served a meal you thought was better suited for royalty. A wide variety with everyone helping themselves to large portions. Is this something you should come to expect? Though awe stricken by the food, you had very little appetite. As you poked and nibbled at your food, Arthur pushed his chair from the table and stood tall, clinking his drinking glass high in the air.

“I would like to propose a toast. To my beautiful wife. May I measure up to even half the man a woman like her deserves. To y/n”

“To y/n!” The guest echoed. You tucked yourself deep into your wine glass, taking a long drink, tired of this play you were roped into. You had half a mind to claim a bottle all to yourself. You’d need it to make it through what was to come. As Arthur sat back down, he placed a hand over yours. A serious look on his face

“Tonight, half past nine. Meet me in my chambers.” It wasn’t a question. He smoothed the napkin in his lap and returned to his meal. Your stomach dropped. You nodded an understanding but said nothing.

————

Arthur’s room was colored deep burgundy and accented in bronze. A warm fire roared in the fireplace, still you shivered. You pulled your robe tighter over your silk, slip-gown. You assumed that was the appropriate things to wear for the occasion. You sat down on the bed, taking deep shaky breaths and twirling the ring which now adorned your finger while you waited for your husband. He stepped in the room, closing the door behind him. The sound sent a shockwave through you. Arthur was still dressed in his wedding garb. He looked handsome, but that in comparison to your own, thin dressings made you feel even more vulnerable. You swallowed hard and began pushing the robe off your shoulders for him, assuming he would spare no time for much else.

“Nononono, that won’t be necessary.” He quickly approached you and pulled the garment back over your skin so you reminded concealed. He slowly sat down next to you on the bed. He could see you were shaking, visibly distraught. Silence fell between you. Arthur reached into the breast of his coat, retrieving your journal. He extended it to you like an olive branch.

“…Thank you.” Your voice was paper thin and wavered as if expecting a recoil of some kind.

“I read it, you know? Every page. Every word.” Arthur’s voice was low and graveled but somehow still soft. Colored with remorse. You offered no reply. You were still unsure what his next move would be. “I know I’m not an easy man, y/n. I know that. I’m selfish…arrogant.” He paused for a brief moment. “And still…you wanted to love me? Even after I degraded you for my own illusions of superiority…you would actively try to love me and justify my mistreatment. Your second night here, you wrote of how you cried over how difficult I was being and how it made you feel as if you were failing. As if it’s somehow up to you to bring the best out in me. As if there were more to me. Like some untapped potential or something lying dormant within me.” You parted your lips to speak but couldn’t find a thing to say. “That’s when I realized…you held more faith in me than I do myself. I have given you every reason to hate me and the opportunity to run, yet you stayed.”

“I stayed for my family.” You told him matter-of-factly.

“Yes, I know. And you we’re noble to do so. But it relieved me you would stay. Not for the sake of my inheritance but-” Arthur moved closer and rested his hands on your upper arms. “You challenge me, y/n. A challenge to be a better man. Better than my father. Better than his father. To break that cycle of cold calculation that only leads a man to misery, only to pass it on to our children. Something my own selfish pride blinded me to. That is until I read your journal. Despite a life of hardship, there is a light in you that refused to be diminished. I envy that about you.” He smiled at you, genuinely. You leaned into his touch, feeling truly connected to him for the first time. Arthur’s guard had finally lowered and slowly so was yours.

“You are not your father, Arthur. You’re more than the things he projected on to you.” Arthur lightly nodded, a choked and pained expression finding him. “I meant every word earlier. And if I should fail you, read them back to me. It’s all there.” He motion to the book which sat in your lap. “And we don’t have to-” You quickly dipped your head low and rubbed at the back of your neck, sensing the words coming next. Arthur’s smile returned, finding your discomfort strange but cute. “Do that until you’re ready.” Shyly, you smiled. Talking about sex still felt taboo to you, even if it was expected of you as a newly wed. “I want to take my time with you y/n” I want to earn your affections. No demands. No persuasion. I want you in an honest way.” You were melting under the warmth of his touch. He searched your face for understanding. Really looking at you for the first time since you met. He admired your beauty and cursed himself for ever making you feel so hopeless.

“With time.” You answered sheepishly. You placed a hand on his cheek. Arthur sighed at your touch, leaning closer and closer til his forehead rested with yours. “I’ll do right by you, y/n.” He breathed before parting his lips around yours, kissing you deep with a quiet and controlled desperation. He kissed you as if trying to find the love he lacked his entire life, pulling you closer to him. With eyes closed, you rode a wave of bliss. Finally receiving what you craved from the man.

“I’ll be good to you, y/n. I swear it.”

[mariacallous]

With Russia’s full-scale invasion now in its third year, destruction and reconstruction are still proceeding simultaneously in Ukraine. Be that as it may, Kyiv has been laying out big plans for the country’s post-war recovery, which will require more than just international investment. In an article originally written for Kit, journalist and researcher Konstantin Skorkin looks to the future and examines the key stumbling blocks for rebuilding Ukraine that are already emerging through the fog of war. The following translation has been abridged for length and clarity.

The following is an abridged translation that appeared in The Beet, a weekly email dispatch from Meduza covering Central and Eastern Europe, the Caucasus, and Central Asia. Sign up here to get the next issue delivered directly to your inbox.

Even if Russia’s invasion ended today, according to the most conservative estimates, Ukraine’s reconstruction and recovery would cost around $500 billion and take at least 10 years. Kyiv has already taken the first steps on this long road, establishing a dedicated office for assessing the full extent of the damage, laying out a recovery plan, and securing tens of billions of dollars in international support for reconstruction. 

According to Bloomberg, Ukraine’s reconstruction could be “the biggest investment opportunity since at least World War II.” And companies worldwide are already jockeying for their piece of the pie. 

But rebuilding Ukraine will take more than cash. The war has dealt a terrible blow to the country’s human capital, from lives lost on the battlefield to civilians forced to flee abroad, many never to return. And bringing large numbers of people back to Ukraine is much harder than securing large amounts of funding. 

The damages 

Russia’s aggression has caused more than $150 billion in direct damage to Ukraine. The country’s GDP fell by 30 percent in 2022 and grew only 5 percent in 2023. The World Bank estimates the cost of reconstruction and recovery at $486 billion, while European Investment Bank chief Werner Hoyer predicts that Ukraine may require as much as $1.1 trillion in outside assistance to rebuild. 

Ukraine’s main export sectors, agriculture and metallurgy, have been hit especially hard. According to estimates from the Kyiv School of Economics, the agricultural sector has suffered more than $80 billion in damages and losses, with Russia occupying fertile areas in Ukraine’s south and east, and shelling and landmines rendering farmland in the north unusable. Ukraine’s richest oligarch, Rinat Akhmetov, has seen his agricultural holding HarvEast lose 70 percent of its arable land to Russian occupation. And one of Ukraine’s leading grain exporters, Nibulon, estimates its losses due to the war at more than $400 million. A Russian missile strike killed the company’s founder, grain tycoon Oleksiy Vadatursky, in July 2022.

The Azovstal steel plant in Mariupol. May 10, 2022.

AFP / Scanpix / LETA

The Ukrainian steel industry, meanwhile, has seen two of its biggest producers turned to rubble: the Azovstal and the Ilyich Iron and Steel Works in occupied Mariupol. These two factories, which once accounted for 40 percent of Ukraine’s steel production, made up the core of Akhmetov’s Metinvest Group. In June 2023, the company estimated its total damages from the war at more than $3.5 billion. Two other major steelworks — Akhmetov’s Zaporizhstal and ArcelorMittal Kryvyi Rih (formerly Kryvorizhstal) — are operating at half capacity, while the Nikopol Ferroalloy Plant, located in the Dnipropetrovsk region, has suspended work altogether. 

Ukraine’s energy sector is also suffering, mainly due to sustained Russian attacks on its power plants. Last month, President Volodymyr Zelensky said that Russia had destroyed “almost all” of Ukraine’s thermal power generation. And since Ukraine’s green energy infrastructure is concentrated in the south, Russian occupation has knocked out of commission 90 percent of its wind energy and half its solar power. 

For Ukrainians, the damage to power plants and the electric grid means living with rolling power and heating outages. Moreover, repaired energy infrastructure risks getting hit again — like Kharkiv’s Thermal Power Plant No. 5. After being damaged in a missile strike in September 2022, the power plant came back online this March only to suffer a devastating attack two weeks later. Repair work is expected to take at least a year. 

The Ukrainian authorities estimate that the country will need about $15 billion for immediate reconstruction and recovery efforts in 2024 alone. And Kyiv’s post-war Recovery Plan will require $750 billion over 10 years. Two-thirds of this funding is expected to come from Ukraine’s partners, with the remainder from private investors and confiscated assets from Russia and Russian oligarchs. 

In July 2022, 40 countries signed the Lugano Declaration, pledging to support Ukraine’s post-war recovery. According to Bloomberg, the European Union plans to “contribute the bulk” of this financial assistance, which could exceed 500 billion euros ($523 billion). E.U. countries are also kicking in individually: Finland’s Ukraine Investment Facility, for example, plans to fund 50 million euros ($54 million) worth of projects in 2025–2026. Other European countries — including Austria, Sweden, the Netherlands, Italy, Poland, and Germany — have committed to helping rebuild specific Ukrainian regions. 

An aerial view of the destroyed engine room of the Trypilska TPP, one of Ukraine’s largest thermal power plants in the Kyiv region, following a Russian missile attack. April 11, 2024.

Kostiantyn Liberov / Libkos / Getty Images

The United States Agency for International Development (USAID) has provided more than $23 billion in humanitarian, economic, and development assistance to Ukraine since the start of the full-scale invasion. Private companies are investing in Ukraine’s reconstruction, as well. In January, Kyiv announced that it was creating a Ukraine reconstruction bank with help from JPMorgan Chase and BlackRock. At the time, Zelensky’s deputy chief of staff Rostyslav Shurma said the fund could launch in five or six months with close to $1 billion in committed capital.

Theoretically, reparations and confiscated assets from Russia could also be important in rebuilding Ukraine. However, this is easier said than done. The former will hinge on when (and, more importantly, how) the war ends, while the latter is the subject of ongoing policy debate. Western countries have frozen around $300 billion in sovereign Russian assets since February 2022. The U.S. is still developing legislation that would allow for seizing the $5–$8 billion under its jurisdiction, while the E.U. greenlit using the profits from frozen Russian assets to help Ukraine just this week. 

The people 

The war has dealt perhaps the most terrible blow of all to Ukraine’s human potential. On top of causing tens of thousands of military and civilian losses, Russia’s invasion prompted one of the 21st century’s largest refugee waves. According to the United Nations, more than 6.4 million people have left Ukraine since February 2022. Some were forced to flee to Russia, but most found refuge in Europe.

More than two years on, many of these refugees have adapted to life in another country, and a significant proportion don’t plan to return home. A recent study by the U.N. Refugee Agency found that in the last year, the number of refugees who hope to go back to Ukraine has dropped from 77 percent to 65 percent. According to data from the Kyiv-based Center for Economic Strategy, between 1.3 million and 3.3 million Ukrainians may not return to Ukraine. 

A long line of Ukrainian drivers waiting to cross into Poland through the Shehyni border checkpoint. March 4, 2022.

Dan Kitwood / Getty Images

With the war still ongoing, European countries continue to extend temporary asylum to Ukrainian refugees, and governments faced with labor shortages are encouraging Ukrainians to integrate into their countries’ labor markets. (That said, some countries — such as Norway and Finland — have decided to provide one-time payments to Ukrainians who want to return home.) 

Then there’s the acute problem of displacement within Ukraine. The Ukrainian government has counted nearly five million internally displaced persons (IDPs). The aforementioned U.N. study found that 15 percent of Ukrainian IDPs have no intention or hope of returning to their former places of residence. For some, there’s nothing to return to: cities in the Donbas region like Bakhmut, Maryinka, and Avdiivka have been practically wiped off the map. 

In interviews for this article, three internally displaced Ukrainians complained about a lack of affordable housing and about difficulties obtaining compensation for their destroyed homes. For those whose homes are located in Russia-occupied territories, there’s no compensation available at all. Social support for IDPs is also minimal, with payments ranging from 2,000 to 3,000 hryvnias ($50 to $75) per month. The government also tightened eligibility for IDP benefits as of March 1.

The displaced Ukrainians said they receive a lot of help from the U.N., UNICEF, and European charities. Since 2023, the E.U. has financed a special program aimed at converting existing buildings in 10 Ukrainian cities into housing facilities for IDPs. However, the Kyiv-based Rating Group found that 60 percent of Ukrainians surveyed consider the restoration of jobs and businesses more important than direct financial support. 

The Rating Group poll also shows that opinions on reconstruction vary by region. For example, residents of western and central Ukraine are more supportive of postponing reconstruction until the war ends, whereas those living in eastern regions are more likely to support rebuilding as soon as possible. 

An aerial view of the total destruction in Bakhmut from heavy battles. September 27, 2023.

Libkos / Getty Images

Divisions such as these create additional tensions in society, which could, in turn, hinder Ukraine’s recovery. According to Rating Group’s director Oleksii Antypovych, a number of dividing lines have already begun to emerge, including between those who stayed (IDPs and the non-displaced), those who fled abroad, those who served in the army, and those who lost loved ones. “I think the biggest divisions are between those who are absorbed in the war ­— the mobilized and their families, people who lost their loved ones, residents of frontline territories — and those Ukrainians who are still trying to live a normal life,” sociologist Inna Volosevych told Politico earlier this year. 

At the same time, Kyiv International Institute of Sociology director Volodymyr Paniotto notes that people are far more aggressive in their opinions on social media than in real life. For example, KIIS found that nearly 90 percent of those surveyed in Ukraine bear no ill will towards Ukrainian refugees currently abroad. 

One way or another, Ukraine is on the verge of a demographic catastrophe. Polish political analyst Jadwiga Rogoża notes that current forecasts for Ukraine’s future population range from 24 to 35 million (compared to 48.5 million in 2001). Ukraine’s own Ministry of Social Policy estimates that the population could drop to 25 million by the end of 2050. What’s more, Ukraine is projected to have one of Europe’s oldest populations by 2030, since so many young people are leaving the country or dying at the front. 

As Rogoża explains, the dynamics of Ukraine’s post-war reconstruction and economic development will depend on not only the level of spending on reconstruction but also the size, age, and health of the country’s population. “The slow and uneven reconstruction process may leave the map of Ukraine dotted with numerous ‘ghost towns’ — half-ruined places with no prospects for work and development,” she warns.

A woman begs in an underground passage in downtown Kyiv. October 20, 2023.

Roman Pilipey / AFP / Scanpix / LETA

The future

To get an idea of Ukraine’s potential post-war trajectory, it’s worth looking at the wars in the Balkans in the 1990s, which are perhaps the closest example of a major armed conflict in recent European history comparable to the war in Ukraine.

The wars that followed Yugoslavia’s collapse displaced around 3.7 million people in the 1990s, 700,000 of whom received temporary asylum in Germany. By 2000, 75 percent of these refugees had returned to their home country or another part of former Yugsolavia; another 15 percent settled in third countries and only 10 percent remained in Germany. 

However, the return of these refugees didn’t solve the demographic problems facing the Balkan countries, which were in a state of post-war devastation. “Migration flows only grew stronger after the war,” says Maksim Samorukov, a fellow at the Carnegie Russia Eurasia Center. “One of the reasons [for this was] tighter European integration; the war-torn countries of the Western Balkans simply couldn’t compete with Europe in terms of attractiveness for living.” 

Further rapprochement between Ukraine and the European Union, and the experiences of Ukrainian refugees living in the bloc, could produce similar results: many Ukrainians may very well prefer life in E.U. countries to the instability of post-war Ukraine.

For now, martial law remains a restraining factor on emigration. Ukraine’s borders have been closed to military-age men for more than two years, so 80 percent of Ukrainian refugees are women and children. Once martial law is lifted, however, many men will reunite with their families abroad and may even choose to stay there. 

As Alfred Kammer, the director of the International Monetary Fund’s European Department, has pointed out, Ukraine’s economic recovery will depend on a number of factors, including how many people return to the country and their home regions in the medium term. 

And though the fog of war makes economic forecasting difficult, some of what the future holds for Ukraine is already visible today.

According to Deloitte, the Ukrainian economy will not survive without structural changes. Agricultural exports, for example, will depend on developing rail routes as an alternative to maritime ports. And the metallurgy industry should not rely on restoring Soviet legacy infrastructure, but rather invest in innovative production such as green steel. 

Researcher Oleksandr Zabirko believes Ukraine’s Donbas could end up like other post-industrial regions of Europe, such as the Ruhr in Germany and Upper Silesia in Poland. “Obviously, the role of the E.U. in Ukraine’s recovery will be key, and I doubt that European investors will want to rebuild monstrous Soviet factories like Sievierodonetsk’s Azot and Mariupol’s Azovstal,” Zabirko speculates. In other words, E.U. investment will likely be aimed at developing new industries — running contrary to the interests of Ukrainian “steel barons” like Akhmetov. 

As such, post-war reconstruction could radically reshape Ukraine. Small- and medium-sized businesses, including ones in new industries like IT, began to flourish after the Revolution of Dignity in 2014, but massive Soviet-built factories continued to play a key role in the country’s economy until Russia’s 2022 invasion. Now, it seems the country’s economic revival will largely depend on its ability to produce and sell high-tech goods.

A geographical shift in Ukraine’s economy is also underway, with enterprises moving from the industrial southeast to the country’s west and center. This shift, first and foremost, is for security reasons: even in the event of a frozen conflict, Ukraine’s southern and eastern regions will remain under constant threat. It’s also logistically more convenient since Ukraine has severed ties with its eastern neighbors and is strengthening its economic cooperation with the E.U. 

This westward migration began in March 2022, when the government launched a free relocation program for Ukrainian businesses. The program helped companies move their employees and equipment to safer regions. Enterprises that have taken advantage of the program range from a small Kyiv-based adhesive tape producer to the Zaporizhzhia Non-ferrous Metals Plant and the distillery behind Khortytsa vodka. 

Ukraine’s western and central regions are also taking in displaced people from the occupied territories. The Rating Group’s research shows trends towards population growth in the Zakarpattia, Khmelnytskyi, Vinnytsia, Kirovohrad, Odesa, and Dnipropetrovsk regions, as well as in Kyiv. 

According to sociologist Ella Libanova, who heads the Institute for Demography and Social Studies at the National Academy of Sciences of Ukraine, the country’s central regions have the greatest potential for denser settlement. (Citing ecologists, Libanova said that much of western Ukraine has nearly reached its ecological carrying capacity, which means it will soon be impossible to build new housing, businesses, and industry there.) 

Libanova also estimates that Ukraine will need to attract around 300,000 immigrants annually to keep its population at the predicted 30 million. Given the low standard of living, these immigrants will most likely come from poorer countries.

* * *

When it comes to restoring any country, the most crucial factor isn’t money or the size of the population; the attitude of those living there and those who will return is far more important. Without their faith in the future, no amount of investment will work. 

And in this sense, things look optimistic for Ukraine. According to the Rating Group’s polls, despite all the hardships of wartime life and the setbacks at the front, 80 percent of Ukrainians believe their country’s future looks “rather promising.”

[akampana]

Romantic confessions dialogue prompts

3 and 25 GilxArtoria.

25. "I cannot stand you, and yet I also cannot stand to be away from you."

Gilart Modern Au.

…

"I do not appreciate being avoided, Arturia."

The chase should have begun as usual, with the new money stalking down the hall, heels harshly clacking upon the tiles closely followed by the world-renowned tycoon in a similarly rushed pace. Neither would have run, of course, but all employees would know better than to get in the blondes' way lest they be trampled in their wake. The situation occurred so often, most personnel knew well to order the unfortunate intern down to the nearest tea shop and get a chamomile brew going. Their tiny, ever-serious heiress was the shop’s most loyal customer, after all, considering every visit Gilgamesh ever made resulted in her needing a fresh cup of relaxant. 

However, as the intern would learn–cold tea in hand and a dropped jaw on his face–that routine would be broken for the very first time. Because for the very first time, Arturia did not come rushing out her door. Gilgamesh did not give chase. What greeted all the employees instead, was the chocolate color of Arturia’s dark wooden door as it calmly closed shut, locking them all out of the mysterious happenings behind it. 

“I am not…” she started, voice low enough that no gossip mongers could hope to hear. The woman sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, pacing the room like a fitness nut trying to get her steps in. It was doing little to help her nerves, but really, who wouldn’t be nervous when confronted with the golden-haired snob in fron of her?  “It was not my intention to avoid you, Gilgamesh.”

The man’s only reply was a raised eyebrow and a piercing look that once may have infuriated her. Instead, it made her feel like whatever she had eaten that day decided to do cartwheels in her stomach. Not the best feeling to have when faced with the global superpower that Gilgamesh was, especially when he had his arms crossed over his custom Italian suit. He quite hated getting it wrinkled. If he was willing to crease the expensive fabric, she was truly pushing all his buttons.

The sharp inhale that preceded her words did nothing to steady them. “I must apologize. I…”

Her heartbeat cut her off, the sound of her own blood booming in her ears like a brutalized festival drum. He was the worst possible person to lose her words with– damn eloquent bastard and his hifalutin vocabulary–but she had no choice. Anything she tried to voice would surely come out in a string of nonsensical syllables only comprehensible to the minds of the insane. So, she stayed silent, desperately trying to weave words together that might make some semblance of sense. The ruby eyes staring her down, however, made even that an impossible task. Wonderful. They could haunt both her dreams and her reality. Absolutely wonderful. 

His familiar footfalls drew closer till his fine leather shoes decorated her view of the drab, corporate-gray carpet. She hated those damn shoes. Those slacks. That stupid belt. He was never just dressed, always overdressed or underdressed–one more reason she should hate him, on top of the mountain of irritations he already plagued her life with.

The woman felt the older man’s finger brush the skin of her wrist, felt them twitch as they reached for her hand then change course. When she breathed, she smelt sandalwood and orange citrus–a scent she could only describe as sunny that she much associated with the foreigner. Before she knew it, his hand had journeyed up her arm and shoulder and his index finger was on her chin, lifting gently till she met his eyes. 

The practiced swat she made at his wrist came half-heartedly. He didn’t flinch. She didn’t break their gaze. She just let it melt her, hoping the businessman wouldn’t notice her quivering lip or shaking knees. 

“Do you wish for me to leave–”

“Yes.” 

Her response was immediate. Uncalculated. She’d wanted so many times to be asked that very question that her answer came out like muscle memory. A twisted wave of relief washed over her. If she could be rid of him, she would no longer have to deal with these trifling feelings. No more cold sweats. No more heat in her cheeks. No more feeling like she couldn’t breathe. 

But the very moment he took a step back, she felt fear stab through her chest like a knife. 

“No. No. I…I don’t,” she whimpered, barely pulling her bleeding heart back together when she’d just tried to break it. Her words were weak. Arturia hated sounding weak. She spent so many years in this cursed industry fashioning her tone just to be taken seriously, and here she was sounding like she’d just finished a marathon without taking a sip of water. Pathetic, and yet it was all she could manage. 

The man’s eyes flickered down to the lynchpin of Arturia Pendragon’s current state of mind: a delicate hand gripping tightly onto his palm, urging him not to take another step. He’s always wanted her to touch him like this. It seemed all Gilgamesh had ever gotten were business handshakes and the burning rejection of his advances. It almost felt like a dream. But in his dreams, it wasn’t anguish upon her countenance. In his dreams, there weren’t tears welling up in her eyes. In his dreams, she wasn’t shaking like a leaf. 

“Then what is it you want, Arturia?” he queried, drowning in suspense.

It occurred to him suddenly that he had never seen her so fragile; like if he made one wrong move, she’d break. For the first time since he’d known her, she’d let down her guard; she’d dropped the mask she’d been wearing the day she inherited this company. It wasn’t his business partner he was looking at right now. Not an investor either. It was just her–the person he knew she was, who he’d only seen glimpses of in the cracks of her facade, yet fell for all the same.  

“I don’t know,” she choked, her voice pitched high like someone had her by the neck. “I do not. I cannot understand–” a hiccup interrupted her before she could finish. Her knees went weak, and though he was there to steady her, it was to the window that she ran, swallowing stray sobs with hand over her mouth. 

“Arturia–”

“Stop. Just stop–” she protested, swatting the man away as he came up behind her, to no avail. He stood over her, hands on the glass window like her strikes meant nothing to him, and watched her breaths gradually even out. It was agony to stand there, so close yet not permitted to touch her, hold her, or offer even the slightest comfort. How could it be, that even in this vulnerable state she had him wrapped around her finger? 

“I don’t understand,” she continued in a whisper, the tightness in her throat permitting nothing else. “I know I was meant to hate you but…I cannot.”

This time it was Gilgamesh who was robbed of breath, her words freezing him solid as she locked her watery gaze with his ruby one. Suddenly the hustle and bustle of the city outside went quiet. The office floor behind the door cleared in an instant. Planes paused in their voyage. Ships stopped at the harbor. Suddenly, it was only the two in the drab office room, suspended by their feelings beneath the stars.

The man’s heart banged heavily on the walls of its cage, crying to be acknowledged. “Do not try to vex me with–” 

“I do not need you, but I do. I cannot stand you, and yet…I also cannot stand to be away from you.” she interrupted, searching his wide eyes for answers still just out of her grasp as he did the same. Her fingers were halfway to his cheek, occupying the few inches left between their lips.They were so close he could feel the heat of her skin; so close the gravity that had pulled him to her from the day they met demanded he lean in. Every word she said echoed through the crevices of his mind like a mantra, beckoning him forward til not even air dared keep them apart.  

“I was not trying to avoid you, Gil, I just–” 

Clarity. The sky above them seemed ever so vast, with galaxies dancing in a midnight space no longer stifled by clouds. All the stars aligned. All the planets moved to the beat. She learned to fly and he learned to fall, and for a moment there was no question in the world that needed an answer, no problems that needed solutions, nothing broken that needed repairs. There was just a man and a woman, finally seeing eye to eye, touching lips to lips. 

“Do not keep me from you again,” Gilgamesh whispered as they parted for breath. For the first time, there was no rebuttal, disagreement, nor complaint, because Arturia finally understood.

____

Thank you for the ask! :D

hope u are doing ok :)

-akampana

[jknerd]

Oliver Twist in NYC AU: Edward/Monks

Full Name: Edward “Monks” Leeford

Age: 27

Gender: Male

Other names: Monks, Eddie, Young Leeford

Occupations: Business tycoon, crime lord

Residence: Leeford Mansion (formerly)

Family: Mr. Leeford (father; estranged), Jill Leeford (mother), Agnes Fleming (stepmother; deceased), Oliver (half-brother; estranged) Relationships: Bill Sykes (business partner), Roscoe & DeSoto (acquaintances), Dodger (enemy)

Likes: Wealth, power, earning money by child-trafficking/child labor, manipulating/bribing politicians

Dislikes: Oliver, Jenny, disobedience, Fagin and the gang, Foxworth family, his plan failing, meddlesome press

Edward “Monks” Leeford was an unofficial heir to Leeford fortune, son of Mr. Leeford and his first wife Jill, and older half-brother of Oliver. Born between Mr. Leeford and his wife Jill, he was a firstborn and expected be an heir. However, when he was a child, his parents divorced. Resentful of the divorce and later her ex-husband in love with a woman named Agnes, Edward’s mother would blame them for their misery, thus causing Edward to believe that way and losing sense of feeling empathy. In young adult age, he learned of Agnes having his father’s child and that Mr. Leeford plans to appoint the baby as his heir instead of him. When Agnes was giving birth in Leeford Mansion alone, he snuck in and saw Agnes dying. Instead of calling for help, he neglected her death and stole her baby Oliver before putting him in the underground orphanage he has been stock investing. Edward made sure there were no evidences that Oliver was related to their father. With forged evidences, he told his father Agnes and the baby died. However, Winston, who was Leeford’s butler back then, learns that the baby was not dead and believed Foxworth Family could help finding the baby boy. For years, Edward had public image as “perfectionist” Business tycoon, but a wealthy investor of crime organizations.

At one point, he noticed one child’s record was missing in underground orphanage, discovering it belonged to Oliver. However, he have predicted that the boy would end up either be homeless or recruited into petty criminals’ gang as he recalled in his father’s will that if Oliver commits a crime, he will be disinherited and all inheritance would go to Edward. However, months went by, he recognized Oliver in a party at Foxworth residence, discovering that Foxworth Family has adopted him. Frustrated, Edward believed if this news reached to his father, the old man would desperately get Oliver back. When Oliver goes to school with Jenny, Edward bribed the kids who dislike Oliver manipulated them to lock Oliver in an abandoned storage beating him up and left him to die as they light the place in fire. But, Oliver was saved by Jenny, Minerva and other friends. From time to time before Oliver escaped the orphanage, he has been drugging his father with prescription that could cause Alzheimer to get him defenseless before lighting a fire in Leeford’s vacation house where Mr. Leeford was. When leaving, he didn’t realized Fagin was around to return the wallet to Mr. Leeford, discovering the house in fire and rescued the old man. 

Days later, at the time Oliver was brought back to Fagin’s barge, Fagin and Dodger came to Sykes’ warehouse. Witnessing Fagin’s attempt to get extended time to get money he owed and Dodger fighting against Roscoe and DeSoto, Edward told Sykes to have their account close as he would pay 1/3 of debt in behalf of Fagin with better idea; kidnap Jenny and Oliver for ransom from Foxworth Mansion. Sykes agreed with the plan, but was disturbed when Edward told him to kill Oliver. At the first day Oliver was lured to the warehouse, he met Edward for the first time in life and learned that they are half-brothers, much to shock of Jenny, Sykes Roscoe and DeSoto. However, Edward said he never sees Oliver as a family, but an eyesore as he angrily beaten the poor boy. Feeling guilt, Roscoe attempted to stop him but was held back by DeSoto. Seeing the slight disloyalty, Edward threatened Roscoe by mentioning his wife and daughter’s name, adding with how they could be “worth a billion”, implying he has no qualm in kidnapping the woman and child before selling them off in human-trafficking, igniting Roscoe and DeSoto’s anger yet couldn’t make any resistance. Soon, Edward left to visit Foxworth Residence where he told the family he will return Jenny and Oliver if they agree to give up their business to him. Later, as he watched the Foxworth’s about to sign the contract, it was interrupted by Fagin and the gang, visibly surprised to see Jenny and Oliver alive. When the gang exposed him in front of the family and the press, Edward made last attempt to kill Oliver but was stopped by his father who has been alive and healed. It was also revealed that he has made attempt in fabricating the will that benefits him and plan to blow up the underground orphanage where the children were still living there. The location, papers and other informations of underground orphanage was submitted to police by Edward’s mother, resulting in Edward betrayed by his mother. Even when arrested, Edward continues to throw hateful curses at Oliver.

In the trial, he still shows no remorse as he explained his reason behind the crimes; he claimed that he was giving the world a favor by putting unwanted orphans into good use before they die as it is his way of social service, adding people should be grateful of this “greater good”. He added why there is a “natural order” in crime such as murder; the reason murderers kill the senior citizens, women, teenagers, children, the “gays” are because these victims were “socially weak and useless”. For that, Edward was sentenced 3,000 years with no parole in Rikers Island, the worst prison in New York City. Edward yells people are foolish to believe in “justice” as it does not apply in a nation of capitalism, darwinism and elitism. However, Dodger who was present in the trial said he himself has already confessed his twisted justice and he would spend his entire lifetime and afterlife thinking over what are the wrongs he committed, even if he won’t understand. Edward was taken away to Rikers island, where he would be what he despised to become: the socially weak and useless creature where he would be spending his life becoming all inmates’ sandbag, slave, and their “salty-milk toilet”.