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yeah-klave · 4 years ago

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A Short History of What Happened - Chapter 5

Written, with love, for EnKlave Fest 2021.

Catch up with the story so far: Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3; Chapter 4

Prompt: Omegas aren’t allowed to join the army, but then Omega!Klaus gets dropped into Vietnam and has to pose as a Beta. He manages quite well, right until he goes into heat. Alpha!Dave is protective and incredibly aroused/horny.

Genre: Omega verse, smut, developing relationships, slow burn, undercover, misunderstandings, secretly in love.

Word length: This chapter: 3.9k

Warning: Implied, canon-compliant abuse. Implied homophobia. Discussion of AU-specific political issues, including victim-blaming, gay-shame and dub-con medical procedures. The entire work, when posted, will contain explicit sexual content.

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of The Umbrella Academy characters or settings.

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They walked on in silence for a while.

Dave wasn’t quite sure why or how, but he felt more content in this moment than he had in months, years even. Maybe ever.

It was ridiculous. The man walking beside him was practically a stranger. A mystery; with secrets and a painful history and – quite possibly – more than a little darkness inside him.

Dave couldn’t explain it, but somehow, he still felt a… pull.

Perhaps Klaus did live in a world of shadows, but maybe Dave could turn on the light. Maybe Dave could be the light.

Dave heard a gentle inhale next to him and turned to see Klaus breathing deeply, his eyes closed and his heard tilted back slightly.

Dave faltered, was he… scenting the air?

Klaus’ lashes fluttered and he opened his eyes and caught Dave’s gaze. His irises were thin green disks around the dark pools of his blown pupils.

“Whaafght,” Dave stuttered.

Klaus blinked.

Dave composed himself, took a deep breath and started again.

“What,” Dave swallowed, thinking frantically and eventually grasping at the first coherent thought that came to him, “what kind of music do you like?”

Before him, a smile spread slowly across Klaus’ face and a twinkle lit up his eyes.

“Buckle up, David,” Klaus smiled, “I’m about to take you on a wild ride.”

And he did.

Dave hadn’t even heard of most of the songs Klaus listed off. In fact, he didn’t recognise them to all, even when Klaus sang bits aloud in a breathy, enthusiastic, but slightly off-key voice. Dave was feeling light and relaxed, but he didn’t start getting giggly until Klaus began adding the accompanying dance moves – a series of shimmies, little hip rolls and dramatic arm movements. Dave started laughing. And once he started, he found it really difficult to stop. The sound of Dave attempting to supress his giggling seemed to spur Klaus on because he just started hamming it up even more.

Dave tried to get himself under control a couple of times, glancing around nervously, aware of where they were. But the coast looked completely clear and then he’d look back at Klaus and the expression on his face would set him off again.

“I’ve never,” Dave wheezed between peals of laughter, “even heard of these songs. My favourite song is The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance. Where you’re from must be much hipper than where I grew up.”

“Ohmigod, Dave!” Klaus choked, “Hip! You’re just too precious!”

“It means trendy or… happening,” Dave helpfully supplied.

Klaus’ faced creased and he doubled over in silent giggles.

“That’s perfect,” Klaus choked out, gasping for air, “absolutely spiffing! Completely ripping! Positively groovy!”

Dave didn’t quite get the joke, but grinned along with him.

“It must have been, though,” Dave bobbed his head earnestly. “We must be pretty out of touch with the cool music where I’m from.”

“Where’s that?” Klaus asked.

“Near Dallas,” Dave supplied.

“Ooh, a Southerner!” Klaus said. “So, Dave, are you more a smooth Southern gentleman or rough Texas cowboy?”

Dave paused. “Neither,” he said finally, “I’m just me. Just boring old Dave Katz. There’s nothing interesting about me. I’m just… a plain hamburger kind of a guy.”

Klaus looked at him steadily. “I don’t buy that at all,” he said. “There’s nothing plain hamburger about you, Dave.”

“Well,” Dave corrected himself. “Actually, my order would probably be plain hamburger with two pickles, if I’m being exact. And picky.”

“Exactly,” Klaus grinned. “See, just what I said! Flavour! Dave Katz likes to slip a bit of pickle in his hamburger!”

Klaus wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. Dave coughed uncomfortably. This conversation was straying into dangerous territory.

“How do you take your hamburger, then?” Dave asked.

“I like a little pickle,” Klaus said. “Well actually, I like a big pickle. A big, hard pickle.” He waggled his eyebrows again and then did an adorable little two-eyed wink. Dave felt his cheeks heating up at the same time his heart clenched a little at the cuteness. “The cheese can go take a running jump, though,” Klaus added, “and it had better come with fries and ketchup or else heads will roll. To be honest though, hamburger probably wouldn’t be my first choice for favourite food.”

“What would be?” Dave asked, interested.

Klaus pondered. “I knew someone once who made amazing ossobuco, that was pretty good. And I’ve always had a sweet spot of doughnuts. My siblings and I used to…” Klaus trailed off.

Dave held his breath, but Klaus didn’t add any more. Dave chanced a glance sideways. Klaus had a distant, faraway look in his eyes.

Dave racked his brain for a change of topic.

“Have you ever read Dune?” he asked.

Klaus appeared to give himself a little shake.

“No,” he said, “what’s it about?”

“Well,” and with that, Dave launched into a monologue about his favourite ever book. As he talked, he saw Klaus’ eyes flitting over his face, smiling and nodding along. There was a warmth and fondness there that took Dave by surprise; an unguarded acceptance. The mutual respect of a new friendship. It made Dave feel giddy and drunk, a bubble of happiness growing inside him.

Dave was just wondering whether he should start telling Klaus about his interpretation of the ‘fear is the little death’ line, when he suddenly noticed in the distance, the location of the new camp they were travelling towards.

Reality hit him like a punch to the face.

He’d had all this time alone with Klaus to talk about the difficult things, the things they couldn’t speak about in front of the others and they’d wasted it on hamburgers and silly dance moves. In fact, he’d hardly got any answers to the multitude of questions that has been plaguing him since Klaus first arrived. They still had so many practical things they needed to discuss.

“Klaus,” Dave said, his voice low and urgent.

Klaus flinched and looked around quickly for the danger.

Guiltily, Dave backtracked.

“No. Sorry. It’s fine. It’s just, we’ve almost arrived and…” he paused, usure how to phrase the next bit. “There are still a few things we should probably talk about first.”

“Like what?” Klaus asked, his voice innocent and confused.

“Well…” Dave started slowly. “You know…” He looked at Klaus hopefully. Klaus looked back, nonplussed.

Dave shifted uncomfortably, then whispered. “You know… omega stuff.” He swallowed. “Like… how we’re going to mask your scent and keep you safe.” He shifted uncomfortably again. “And then there’s,” he gave an embarrassed little cough, “there’s your…. ummmm…” his cheeks were bright red now, “there’s your…” he looked down and finally mumbled, “your heats.”

“Oh,” Klaus said breezily. “No need to worry about that, I have the suppressor implant.” He waved Dave’s words off with a distracted flap of his hand. “And the IUD, too” he added as an afterthought. “With the scent thing, though, I thought you said the others were all betas? They won’t be able to smell me. Only alphas can smell omegas. And there’s just you, so I’m all good.”

Dave frowned, confused. “What do you mean implant?”

“The heat suppressor implant,” Klaus clarified. “I have been – almost exclusively – since I was in my teens.” His face darkened. “My dad made me. He didn’t trust me. I mean, it’s not like I wanted to get bonded to the first alpha that came along, or get myself knocked up at seventeen. But I would have liked the chance to masturbate my way through my heats in my locked bedroom like a normal teenage omega. What I really needed was a whack-off dildo. But, oh no! That’s not okay for Number Four. He had to have the medical implant instead.”

Dave frowned deeper, trying desperately to keep up.

“Are you saying,” he said slowly, “that you have something implanted in you that’s stops you going into heat?”

“Umm, yeah,” Klaus drawled, looking at him as though Dave was the one talking nonsense. But then his eyes got really wide and he snapped his mouth shut.

“Fuck,” he said under his breath, staring into the middle distance. “They didn’t start doing that until…” he paused, “So nobody here has…” he trailed off again.

“Klaus?” Dave prompted.

Klaus gave a deep sigh. “Look,” he said. “I can’t explain it. But we don’t need to worry about my heats. I’m good for easily another few months.” He sighed again deeply. “And by then I expect Five will have… done something anyway... probably come and got me. So, I’ll be long gone before that’s an issue.”

Dave choked. “There are five of them after you?”

“What?” Klaus frowned. “No, Five. My brother Five.”

Dave was completely lost. “Okay,” he said slowly, still not quite sure what had happened but somehow trusting that Klaus knew what he was talking about. “Okay, that’s good, I think. So unexpected heats is something we can cross off the list of worries.”

“Yes.” Klaus gave a definitive nod. “So go on, what else did you have on that list?” Klaus asked. “It was my scent, wasn’t it? I don’t get what’s the big deal is if we’re just surrounded by betas?”

“Everyone else in our unit are betas,” Dave confirmed. “But there are alphas in the other units. I mean,” he added delicately, “I don’t know if any that are openly… you know…” he trailed off.

“Gay?” Klaus supplied.

“Yeah,” Dave said thankfully. “But, I mean, that’s not to say there aren’t any. If they were they’d probably – no definitely – try to hide that.” Dave twisted his face in discomfort. Klaus was looked at him unblinkingly, a question lodged behind his slightly furrowed brows.

Dave swallowed again and tried to steady his breathing, determinedly not making eye contact. He couldn’t let Klaus know that he was talking about himself. Not after everything Klaus had said earlier about manipulative alphas only being kind to omegas for sex. He wanted Klaus to feel safe. He wanted Klaus to trust him.

So Dave couldn’t let him know that he was one of those kind of alphas. The ones who were attracted to men. The alphas who were almost as rare as male omegas. After what Klaus had shared about his past, he didn’t want Klaus to feel scared of him. He didn’t want to make him feel like… prey.

Klaus was one hundred percent safe with Dave. Dave knew he would never force himself on anyone. But Klaus didn’t know that. Klaus would just see him as a potential threat. Even worse, he might think that he was manipulating him, that Dave had befriended him on false pretences, only to get close to him and... and… Dave shuddered.

Klaus had made it very clear – he was running from an abusive alpha. So absolutely under no circumstances could Dave let him know his preferences. The competing alpha urges battled inside him again: desire and protection. Protection won.

“So,” Klaus said slowly, “you’re saying I need to be careful to hide the fact that I’m an omega from the alphas in other units, not because they’d want to fuck me – because they’re probably not interested in that – but because they’d out me as an omega. And I’d then be sent… back.”

“Yeah,” Dave nodded. “And if back isn’t safe for you, then we need to make sure they don’t find out, so that you can stay here where you’re safe. Safer.”

“Okay,” Klaus said. “How do we hide my omega-ness from them, then?”

“Well,” Dave said, “for a start, don’t tell anyone you’re an omega.”

“Good one, Sherlock” Klaus grinned.

“Secondly,” Dave said ignoring Klaus’ comment with a small shrug and a roll of his eyes, “I guess, try to keep the scent glands in your neck and wrists covered as much as possible. Clothing is okay for a start, but if you’re going to be around alphas for any length of time, it might be a good idea to cover up even more… bandages or dressings maybe? Or – at a push – a layer of mud might work.”

“That sounds gross.” Klaus wrinkled his nose in disgust.

“I know, it sucks,” Dave pulled a sympathetic face, “but it’s safer.”

“It sucks to be safe!” Klaus huffed in frustration. “And you have no idea how much it really sucks. I’m not really one for coving up. I like to live my life scantily clad.”

Dave swallowed and looked resolutely ahead.

“You know…” Klaus said in a sing-song voice, “bare chested twink, make the boys wink…”

“Twink?” Dave frowned.

“That would be me, Dave,” Klaus said, waving his arms in a flourish that took in his whole body. He did a quick twirl on the spot.

“Oh.” Dave could feel his face heating up again.

“Or,” Klaus carried on, “if you want to sin, show some skin… to make him cum, bare your tum.”

“They’re,” Dave swallowed, “interesting rhymes.”

Klaus let out a musically little giggle and batted his long eyelashes theatrically. “All of my own creation, Davey. And anyway… what more do you expect? I’m just a little omega sex toy, there’s nothing up here in my head. I’m only good for one thing… pleasuring horny alphas.”

Dave frowned. “Omegas are worth so much more than that,” he said seriously. His mouth had gone very dry.

“Dave, it’s fine, I was joking.” Klaus said with a little shrug.

“No,” Dave said. “It’s not okay. I know what the law says, but general perceptions aren’t so fast to change. And it’s not fair that omegas are still treated like second class citizens. You shouldn’t feel like you have to act a part just because it’s what’s expected of you. You should be able to be exactly who you want to be.” Dave’s voice had risen and he was breathing deeply. The ironic weight of his words rang in his ears long after he’d finished talking.

“I completely agree,” Klaus said seriously, all frivolity stripped from his face. He looked vulnerable and open again. “I’m absolutely an advocate for omega rights. And it’s good to know that you’re an omega ally. Those rhymes though… I know it might seem like that’s me conforming to an expected stereotype, but actually, it’s the opposite. I hate being told that I shouldn’t embrace my sexuality because it negates years of omega rights protests. Acting like a flirt doesn’t mean I don’t believe omegas should have equal rights in society, whether they’re bonded or not. As far as I’m concerned, there’s a world of difference between choosing to act like a sex object and being forced into it. And I hate it when other omegas imply I’m being a bad omega, like there’s a right way and a wrong way. Fuck everyone who says acting like a stereotype propagates the wrong impression and makes it okay for alphas to treat us that way. That’s just victim blaming. If alphas act like fucking dicks, that’s on them, not us!” Klaus took a long, shuddering inhale.

“I’m sorry I said anything,” Dave said sincerely. “I’m sorry if I upset you or I said the wrong thing. I’m not always the best at talking about this kind of stuff. All I meant to say was… I think omegas get a raw deal and… and… and I’m on your side.”

Klaus smiled contrite. “I know, I’m sorry that got a bit heavy. And don’t worry, you didn’t say anything wrong. It’s just omega politics!” He blew out a frustrated breath.

Dave pulled a sympathetic face.

“Anyway,” Klaus said, gathering himself again, “where were we? Oh, yeah, slathering me in mud and making me cover up like a nun.” He grinned and did his funny little two eyed blink again. “Any other ideas about how to mask me up and make me the least fuckable guy in the country?” His voice was light and Dave knew he was only joking.

Dave cleared his throat. “Umm,” he started, “I thought maybe… you could wear my clothes?” He could feel his cheeks heating up again. “After I’ve had them on, I mean. That way my natural alpha smell might cover yours a bit. But you don’t have to,” He added hurriedly, “if you think that’s weird or gross or whatever. It was just an idea.”

Klaus shrugged. “Nope, I mean, that’s a perfectly logical idea. To other alphas, a faint alpha smell mixed with a fait omega smell will probably come out smelling like… well, probably like a bit of a funky smelling beta. But I can deal with that.”

Dave nodded. “I know it’s less than ideal, but I think that’s probably the best option. Other than that, I guess we’ll just have to play it by ear.”

Klaus paused, then said slowly. “So, basically, I’m not really safe here unless you help me. I have to stay on your good side, or else bad things could happen to me? That sounds like it’s come straight from victim testimony.”

Dave grimaced. “Yeah, I totally see where you’re coming from with that. All I can say is that… I’m not like that. I genuinely just want to help you. I know that sounds pretty pathetic and not very reassuring. But the bad things are genuine threats, and we’re in the unusual situation where I actually am the only one who can help. So hopefully you can learn to trust that I am actually an okay guy.” He gave an apologetic little shrug and looked over towards Klaus. “I’ve got your back, soldier. Whether you believe me or not.”

Klaus cocked his head to one side and appraised him seriously, but Dave thought he could smell something light and teasing in the air.

“I guess we’ll see, won’t we… soldier?” He said eventually.

“I’ll take that,” Dave said calmly, his face soft and open and honest. Klaus just looked back at him, his expression unreadable.

They had walked on a few more paces before Dave looked over at Klaus warily. “There is something else I should probably tell you.” He said slowly.

Klaus’ ears pricked up and he looked over at Dave quickly. Dave’s nostrils flared, expecting a wave of apprehension from Klaus, but instead all he caught the scent of was… hopeful. He faltered and looked over at Klaus, whose eyes were large and fixed on Dave’s face.

“There is an alpha in another unit,” he started and watched as Klaus’ face fell slightly before his eyes. “I don’t really know, but I have heard… rumours.”

Klaus frowned again. “What kind of rumours?”

“Well,” Dave said. “I heard that… when he was back home… he was arrested a couple of times for abusing omegas, but he got off on technicalities.”

Klaus swallowed and his upper lip twitched in suppressed anger. “Bastard,” he said quietly.

“Yeah,” Dave intoned flatly. “But look,” he added quickly. “I don’t know if that’s true. It could just be an ugly rumour.”

“All rumours start with a grain of truth somewhere. Except when Allison’s involved.” Klaus grinned. “Man, I wish I could introduce people like that to Allison. She’d sort them right out!” He barked a laugh.

Dave fought the urge to ask who Allison was, and instead said, “I just thought I’d give you a heads up. Just in case, you know. Just to be extra careful around him. He’s big. And not just alpha big. I mean, he’s big big. He could probably snap you in two with his little finger.”

“And by that you actually mean he’d split me in half. Right up the middle.”

Dave grimaced. “Well, I was trying to put it delicately.”

“Yeah, I know you were. Thanks though, I’ll watch out for him. Maybe you can point him out to me?”

“Sure,” Dave agreed.

They walked a little further in silence. It wasn’t exactly the comfortable silence of earlier, but Dave at least felt content that he’d said what needed to be said and was happy they’d come up with a plan. After a few more steps, Klaus chimed up.

“It really doesn’t seem fair that omega biology makes us so much smaller and slighter alphas. I mean, why do we have to be as small as betas. We’re the ones expected to mate with alphas. Alphas who are biologically huge!” He turned towards Dave and looked up into his eyes. Dave looked down at him, really appreciating for the first time the size difference between them. “I mean, everything is just so big about alphas. Their height, their build, their personalities, their cocks…” Dave choked slightly and Klaus grinned, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t get me wrong, I am into alpha cocks, but biologically they really are unnecessarily enormous.” Dave looked resolutely ahead, but dimly he was aware that Klaus’ gaze had travelled down to his crotch and the noticeable bulge in his uniform pants.

“The size thing is all very well when it’s an alpha you’re into,” Klaus continued, his gaze still lowered. “But when it’s a predatory alpha throwing his weight around, it’s a bit disconcerting. Omegas should at least have some sort of biological defence mechanism to protect ourselves from alphas like that. Like skunk stick gas, or retractable cat claws.”

Dave let out a loud laugh. He brought a hand up to cover him mouth.

Klaus watched him with a twinkle in his eye.

“Oh my god,” Dave huffed out a chuckle. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. I’m just picturing you with tufty ears and a tail, like a hybrid feline-man… or a cat-boy or something. That’s so wild.”

“Wow,” Klaus said under this breath. “Just wait ‘till you realise what that means, it’s going to blow your mind.”

“What?” Dave asked.

“Oh, never mind, ignore me” Klaus said hurriedly. But he was still grinning.

They turned a bend in the track and suddenly ahead of them they could see the camp site and others in their unit already hard at work.

“I guess it’s back to war now then,” Klaus said shakily.

“I guess so,” Dave replied slowly.

“I’ve got to say,” Klaus grinned, “I really can’t wait to wear that shirt tomorrow.” He nodded at Dave’s chest and furrowed his brows in a mock thoughtful look. “I just don’t think clothes feel right unless they’ve been worn in first by another man during a six hour hike through a tropical rainforest. Clothes are just missing something if they don’t come dirt encrusted and pre-stiffened in dried sweat.”

Dave grimaced and looked down at himself, noticing for the first time his pit stains and the dampness across his chest and back.

“Maybe I’ll give this a quick rinse first,” he said sheepishly.

“Don’t you dare,” Klaus said firmly. “I need all the alpha musk I can get, remember. Come on, Dave,” he said biting his lip slowly and looking up – way up – into Dave’s face, “you have to mark me. Cover me in your scent.”

Dave swallowed hard and forced his breaths to come evenly. As he looked down into Klaus’ breathtakingly beautiful face, he thought there must be some sort of trick of the light as the sun set slowly beneath the horizon in a pool of blood red light, because he could have sworn he saw a faint blush spread across Klaus’ nose and cheeks, the flush working its way down his throat.

“O-okay,” Dave stammered.

Klaus just blinked slowly and raised his gaze from Dave’s lips to his eyes.

Maintaining this charade, Dave thought ruefully, is going to be much harder than I thought.

#klave #klaus hargreeves #dave katz #the umbrella academy #klaus/dave #klaus x dave #tua

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a-book-dragon · 4 years ago

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A.2.17 Aren’t most people too stupid for a free society to work?

- Anarchy Works, FAQ

Be it Leninists, fascists, Fabians or Objectivists, it is assumed that only a select few are creative and intelligent and that these people should govern others.Usually, this elitism is masked by fine, flowing rhetoric about “freedom,” “democracy” and other platitudes with which the ideologues attempt to dull people’s critical thought by telling them what they want to hear.It is, of course, also no surprise that those who believe in “natural” elites always class them-selves at the top. We have yet to discover an “objectivist”, for example, who considers themselves part of the great mass of “second-handers” (it is always amusing to hear people who simply par-rot the ideas of Ayn Rand dismissing other people so!) or who will be a toilet cleaner in the unknown “ideal” of “real” capitalism.

Everybody reading an elitist text will consider him or her-self to be part of the “select few.” It’s “natural” in an elitist society to consider elites to be natural and yourself a potential member of one!Examination of history shows that there is a basic elitist ideology which has been the essential rationalisation of all states and ruling classes since their emergence at the beginning of the Bronze Age

(“if the legacy of domination had had any broader purpose than the support of hierarchical and class interests, it has been the attemp to exorcise the belief in public competence from social discourse itself.”[Bookchin,The Ecology of Freedom, p. 206]).

This ideology merely changes its outer garments, not its basic inner content over time.

During the Dark Ages, for example, it was coloured by Christianity, being adapted to the needs of the Church hierarchy. The most useful “divinely revealed” dogma to the priestly elite was“original sin”: the notion that human beings are basically depraved and incompetent creatures who need “direction from above,” with priests as the conveniently necessary mediators between ordinary humans and “God.” The idea that average people are basically stupid and thus incapable of governing themselves is a carry over from this doctrine, a relic of the Dark Ages.

In reply to all those who claim that most people are “second-handers” or cannot develop any-thing more than “trade union consciousness,” all we can say is that it is an absurdity that cannot withstand even a superficial look at history, particularly the labour movement. The creative powers of those struggling for freedom is often truly amazing, and if this intellectual power and inspiration is not seen in “normal” society, this is the clearest indictment possible of the deadening effects of hierarchy and the conformity produced by authority. (See also section B.1 for more on the effects of hierarchy). As Bob Black points outs:

“You are what you do. If you do boring, stupid, monotonous work, chances are you’ll end up boring, stupid, and monotonous. Work is a much better explanation for the creep-ing cretinisation all around us than even such significant moronising mechanisms astelevision and education. People who are regimented all their lives, handed to workfrom school and bracketed by the family in the beginning and the nursing home in theend, are habituated to hierarchy and psychologically enslaved. Their aptitude for auton-omy is so atrophied that their fear of freedom is among their few rationally groundedphobias. Their obedience training at work carries over into the familiestheystart, thusreproducing the system in more ways than one, and into politics, culture and everythingelse. Once you drain the vitality from people at work, they’ll likely submit to hierarchyand expertise in everything. They’re used to it.”[The Abolition of Work and other essays, pp. 21–2]92

When elitists try to conceive of liberation, they can only think of it beinggivento the oppressed by kind (for Leninists) or stupid (for Objectivists) elites. It is hardly surprising, then, that it fails. Only self-liberation can produce a free society. The crushing and distorting effects of authority can only be overcome by self-activity. The few examples of such self-liberation prove that most people, once considered incapable of freedom by others, are more than up for the task.Those who proclaim their “superiority” often do so out of fear that their authority and power will be destroyed once people free themselves from the debilitating hands of authority and come to realise that, in the words of Max Stirner,“the great are great only because we are on our knees. Let us rise”

As Emma Goldman remarks about women’s equality,“[t]he extraordinary achievements of women in every walk of life have silenced forever the loose talk of women’s inferiority. Those who still cling to this fetish do so because they hate nothing so much as to see their authority challenged.This is the characteristic of all authority, whether the master over his economic slaves or man over women. However, everywhere woman is escaping her cage, everywhere she is going ahead with free,large strides.”[Vision on Fire, p. 256]

The same comments are applicable, for example, to thevery successful experiments in workers’ self-management during the Spanish Revolution.Then, of course, the notion that people are too stupid for anarchism to work also backfires on those who argue it.

Take, for example, those who use this argument to advocate democratic government rather than anarchy. Democracy, as Luigi Galleani noted, means “acknowledging the right and the competence of the people to select their rulers.”

However,“whoever has the political competence to choose his [or her] own rulers is, by implication, also competent to do without them,especially when the causes of economic enmity are uprooted.”[The End of Anarchism?, p. 37]

Thus the argument for democracy against anarchism undermines itself, for “if you consider these worthy electors as unable to look after their own interests themselves, how is it that they know howto choose for themselves the shepherds who must guide them? And how will they be able to solve this problem of social alchemy, of producing the election of a genius from the votes of a mass of fools?”[Malatesta,Anarchy, pp. 53–4]

If they impose themselves on the “stupid” masses, why assume they will not exploit and oppress the many for their own benefit? Or, for that matter, that they are any more intelligent than the masses? The history of dictatorial and monarchical government suggests a clear answer to those questions.

A similar argument applies for other non-democratic systems, such as those based on limited suffrage. For example, the Lockean (i.e. classical liberal or right-wing libertarian) ideal of a state based on the rule of property owners is doomed to be little more than a regime which oppresses the majority to maintain the power and privilege of the wealthy few.

Equally, the idea of near universal stupidity bar an elite of capitalists (the “objectivist” vision) implies a system somewhat less ideal than the perfect system presented in the literature. This is because most people would tolerate oppressive bosses who treat them as means to an end rather than an end in themselves. For how can you expect people to recognise and pursue their own self-interest if you consider them fundamentally as the“uncivilised hordes”? You cannot have it both ways and the“unknown ideal”of pure capitalism would be as grubby, oppressive and alienating as “actually existing” capitalism.

Ultimately, anarchists argue that such a perspective simply reflects the servile mentality produced by a hierarchical society rather than a genuine analysis of humanity and our history as a species. To quote Rousseau:“when I see multitudes of entirely naked savages scorn European voluptuousness and endure hunger, fire, the sword, and death to preserve only their independence, I feel that it does not behove slaves to reason about freedom.”[quoted by Noam Chomsky,Marxism, Anarchism, and Alternative Futures, p. 780]

#lefty theory #anarchy #anarchism #leftist theory #resource #leftism #anarchist #anarchist theory #freedom

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eternalstann · 6 years ago

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Celebrity

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Warnings: swearing?? Flufff

Summary: You and Tom just so happen to each other’s celebrity crushes 🥰

"Y/N, Y/N!" The photographers called out as you walked along the red carpet. You loved your job but the photographers and paparazzi were endlessly annoying. It was your third VMA's. You'd been a very successful singer for a while now, but this year you'd done your first big movie. You'd gotten nominated for 4 awards. You gave one last smile before walking into the building. Your manager walking to your side immediately.

"You're performing at 10:15 so enjoy the show while you can- I'll come get you around 9:30. You're sitting in the front row. We wanted to push the fact that you're focusing on acting right now so we sat you next to other actors." He glanced at his phone, "Brie Larson on your left and - Tom Holland on your right." You tried to hold in your excitement at the names he said. You were a huge fan of Marvel movies, so to sit next to Captain Marvel and Spiderman?! You were ecstatic. "Thank you Donovan" you spoke, kissing him on the cheek before walking off to mingle.

You snuck behind your friend Shawn Mendes when you saw him slapping up Drake. "Omg my two favorite Canadians!" You joked, hugging Shawn and then Drake. "Y/N, you look incredible" Shawn spoke, gripping your waist and taking in your appearance. "Like a snack" Drake added, snatching you from Shawn and twirling you around. "Thank you guys! And a snack?! Y'all look like full course meals and dessert" They both laughed at your comment. "So what's the moves for tonight mamacita?" Drake asked and you smirked, "You already know, everyone back at my place for the after party" you exclaimed, already excited. "Aye!" They both cheered in unison. It was very well known you threw the best parties in Hollywood as of late. "Text me and let me know if you need anything love" Shawn hugged you again, and told him you would before walking to your seat.

You felt eyes on your back, but when you turned around there was no one there.

Little did you know your seat neighbor Tom Holland had watched your whole interaction. He was chatting with Jake Gyllenhaal, Jacob and his brother Harry when he saw you. "Holy shit, that's Y/N" Jacob whispered, pointing over at you. "Every song she makes is an absolute banger! Tom go introduce us" Harry joined in. "No fucking way she's literally talking to Drake, I can't go over there" Toms heart ached watching you giggle with the two men. He'd literally never spoken to you, but he'd developed quite the crush on you. He watched all your interviews, and loved your music. You made him feel like he was in elementary school again. "Just go!" Jake exclaimed, shoving him in your direction.

Tom stumbled before catching his stride and following behind you. He didn't know if he should jog to catch up with you, or do an awkward speed walk, so he just kept his normal pace. He mentally kicked himself when he didn't make it to you before you got to your seat. He tried to causally walk past you as you sat down, but did a double take and tripped over his own feet when he saw his face on the chair beside you. Tom literally wished the floor would swallow him up so he could disappear forever when he hit the ground in front of you.

"Oh my god! Are you okay?" You ask the man laying at your feet, and you could hardly contain your excitement when you realized it was none other than Tom fucking Holland. "Yeah, yeah. I'm fine" he insisted, pushing himself up with the help of your extended arm. Once he's off the ground and in his chair you introduce yourself. "Hey, I'm Y/N" you beam at him, turning your body to face him. "I know who you are, I think everyone does" he laughs, reaching out his hand for you to shake. You ignore his cue, pulling him in for a hug. "You smell really nice" he murmurs and it was your turn to laugh. "Thank you; it's so nice to meet you!" You tell him and he shakes his head. "Me?! It's nice to meet you! I'm a huge fan" he expresses and your heart races, he's a fan?

The next twenty minutes turn into a compliment competition; the two of you just spewing nice things to each other and laughing. You even joke through the start of the show, Brie shushing the two of you which only makes you laugh harder. "What are you doing tonight?" You ask him while a presenter was rambling on about something. "Nothing, why?" He quips back and he can feel himself start to sweat, were you going to ask him out?

"and the winner of the best collaboration award.....Y/N and Drake for Rewind!"

You were caught completely off guard, you and Tom both look at each other in shock. "That's you, get up there!" He exclaims, a wide smile on his face. He stands with you and walks you to the stage, he hands you off to Drake at the steps and you thank him. You reach the microphone and stand in front of the huge crowd, Drake next to you and begin to talk. "Wow, um, I really wasn't expecting this-" you cringe in your head, everyone says that- "but thank you all so much! We truly have the best fans in the world. Your support is unmatched and I love you all so much!" You cheer raising up your moon man and stepping aside to let Drake talk. You weren't even really listening to what he was saying, all you could focus on was Tom standing there staring at you with a face full of admiration. You didn't want to be corny but you were positive you were in love with him. And he looked really good. Like you wanted to tie him up keep him all to yourself good.

Next thing you know your being escorted off the stage and you hug your manager backstage. "Congratulations" he tells you and thank him, before turning to make your way back to your seat. "Girl where are you going? It's 9:26, you need to start getting ready" you sigh, you loved performing but you wanted to go back with Tom. You scroll through your Instagram while getting your hair done and see Brie Larsons story, you click on it. You smile at the selfie the two of you took. What you weren't expecting though was to see a video of you and Tom laughing together with the caption "get a room🤣🥴". You immediately go to your own profile and begin to go through your tagged pictures. A lot of you in your dress on the red carpet, screen caps of you and drake accepting the award and then boom; you and Tom. You click on reposts and screenshots of the video and read some of the captions.

'Yessss Y/N get that superhero dick!'

'Omg they look so good together- we have no choice but to stan'

'Ew bye he better stay away from the queen'

'and I oop-'

'Tom shooting his shot 👀'

'Thank you Brie Larson this is the content we deserve'

“She always fuck with white boys smh”

And so it begins you you think to yourself. You realize you never even followed Tom, on your real account at least. Only your account you use to lurk, so you press the button the blue button. Tom doesn't leave your mind the rest of the time you spend getting ready. You don't think about anything besides Tom until the time you start performing. And even then, you can't help but look for him in the crowd.

Your performance goes almost perfectly, you have the best adrenaline rush afterwards. But once again you're sat back in the hair and makeup chair. You're not gonna lie you probably needed it after how much you were sweating on stage. They bring out your dress, but it's a different one. A short backless white dress, much different from your earlier gown. "Donovan what is this?" You ask your manager. "Your dress for the party. We have to go make sure everything is all set- and yes I know you wanna go see your little boo thing Tom but we don't have time!" He replies, motioning for you to put on the dress. You groan and slip it on before following him out to the car waiting outside.

You get back to your house, doing a quick walk through to make sure everything is in place. Taste testing the food and liquor. You knew tonight was going to be crazy. Everyone would be amped up from the awards and live performances, you were starting to get excited. You were proud of your party throwing skills- until you realized you never got the chance to invite Tom. "Shit!" You shout, actually face palming. You pull out your phone and try to figure out the best way to get a hold of him. You text Zendaya- she would definitely have his number. Seven minutes go by with no response, the party starts in less than an hour. "Fuck it.." you mutter, opening Instagram and typing out a DM to Tom,

'Hey Tom, I'm throwing a party tonight and I would love for you to come. You can bring whoever you want. Hope to see you there!'

So basic, but it'd have to do. You didn't wanna look too thirsty or something. You sent the address in a separate message. You didn't even notice your leg bouncing up on down in anticipation, waiting for him to respond. You were pulled from your thoughts by the sound of your door opening and closing, then voices. It was Shawn, Drake and some of their friends. "Hey guys" you chirp and they come over to greet you. "Do either of you guys know Tom Holland?" You ask and they raise they're eyebrows. "No 'how are you?' Or anything first?" Drake would laugh you would just rolled your eyes, "I'm serious!"

"Spider-Man? No I don't know him, but we follow each other on Instagram" Shawn spoke. “Ughh you guys are no help-“ you were cut off by the sound of your phone dinging. It was Tom! You take a deep breath before opening the message.

“Oh I’ll absolutely be there, see you soon love. Thanks for the invite xx”

You could feel yourself swooning and let out a little squeal. “He’s coming!” You inform your guests before the doorbell rang again. You go to open it and this time there’s a multitude of people waiting to come in - not to mention the linebof black cars and limos in the round-about dropping off even more guests. Bella & Gigi Hadid, Niall Horan, Halsey, ASAP Rocky & Big Sean, Normani and more. You hug everyone who comes in, joking with Sean about his song playing through the speakers. You drink and talk with everyone, but you can’t help but keep glancing at the door. You were really waiting for one person. After half an hour you finally settle in, maybe he wasn’t coming.

You’re sitting on the couch, on Bella’s lap pretending to listen to Lewis Capaldi talk about how nervous he is for his U.S tour. Your attention is drawn to the door though when you hear a familiar laugh. “Tom!” You exclaim, unable to hide your excitement immediately going over to him. He hugs you and you wish he’d never let go. He does though before introducing you to his guests. “This is my brother Harry, and this is my friend Jacob” he informs you and you smile at both of them before embracing them as well. “It’s so great to meet you! Make yourselves at home, can I get you some drinks?” You inquire, gesturing towards the kitchen. “They got it” he spoke whisking you away.

“Listen, Y/N, I know you hear this all the time but I think you’re an amazing woman and I’d love to take you out sometime”

“I’d love that Tom!”

________________

PT 2 HERE!

lmaooo what a shitty ending, but I feel like this has potential to be a series but idk. I like Y/N and I like kind of shy Tom 🤧

Love you all, feel free to hmu ❤️

#tom holland #tom holland smut #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland preference #thomas stanley holland #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #peter parker #spiderman #marvel #fanfiction

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danked-piccolo-shit · 6 years ago

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Beerus x Fem! Reader ( NSFW )

Warning ! NSFW ( This is, like, kinky I guess ? 🤔 But just a little bit, don't worry. Have fun anyway, I hope you'll enjoy it ! )

Second Warning ! Grab some popcorn and roll your best one, this shit is long!

Awakened by an odious nightmare wasn't the most pleasant way to wake up, let alone for a God. He could not help the grunting, it had been a long time since he had made such an horrible one, after all. His dry throat begged for some water, and so he decided to leave his bed before making his way out of the room nonchalantly. He had slept for three months, nothing but a nap, for him. However, thirst wasn't the only reason that brought him out of his sheets.

A lovely smell did came to tickle his nose, and he knew exactly the provenance of it. You. The charming little human whom he had put at his service to cook for him, and to avoid him having to constantly return to Earth to eat some delicacies of your planet that he was so badly mad of.

Everything you cooked was tasty, and you always seemed to do your best to please the delicate palate of your God by creating new stuff here and there. Sure, you took some time to accommodate, but it paid off. You were happy, befriended Whis in like 2 days and always hanging around with him when Beerus was asleep. He would bring you back to Earth when you needed raw materials, or just to see your family, even if the Lord would like to keep you at home as much as possible...

A yawn resonated in the corridors, before the big cat entered in your kitchen without you noticing it. Daydreaming of the sweets things you surely have done in his absence, and especially still timidly awake, the deity didn't notice the imminent collision that followed.

" Ouch... S-Sorry Lord Beerus, I didn't saw you coming " You proclaimed shyly before welcoming him properly.

It was only in the middle of a conversation that the God looked down, before making a huuuge leap backwards. A panties with drawings on it... It was the only thing you wore ! A little earlier, his gaze dared to meet your bare chest, with your hair successfully hiding each one of your nipples. Yeah, the Destroyer was fully awakened, now...

" How dare you walk around dressed like that ?! Aren't you ashamed, you filthy nudist ?! "

"Oh, sorry, but... How could I have predicted that you would come to my kitchen at 3 a.m, Lord Beerus? ^^" Besides, we don't see anything at all ! A-And my cookies are almost ready "

" Don't you try to justify yourself ! "

Despite his reprimands, the deity could only compliment your physique: on the criteria of his planet, your body was much more than magnificent. The way your hips swayed to face the oven where your cakes were still cooking, the way your buttocks lifted by the mere act of leaning forward... As if you wanted to make him admire a little more the fine fabric that prevented your nudity.

" Ah ! As you are awake, now, do you need anything ? A special meal or cake you want me to cook for you ? "

" D-Don't you turn around so fast ! "

Geez you really wanted him to have a heart attack, don't you ?

" Give me a glass of water... And maybe one of those 'cookies' you made... "

You move and offered him what he came for. However, you couldn't see the lustful look that devoured your thighs as you carefully put your cookies in a jar.

" And here is one for you ! " You said in a cheerful tone as you gave him the fruit of your work, unknowingly letting a nipple show itself to the God in your action.

_______________

The still warm cookie came crashing to the floor, smashing itself into a multitude of small pieces in a dry, clean sound, contrasting with the scream of surprise of the adorable servant you were. Your chest bounced gently as the destroyer seized you on the wrist and made you turn by force to face him completely. Your eyes filled with fear mirrored in the amber pupils, and the simple vision of it excited Beerus even more. The situation which you were in couldn't make room for a step back, and the worst was that you knew it. You had awakened the desire of a God, and you were going to pay for your insolence.

" How dare you get scared. You are the one who started it all, remember ? "

" L-Lord Be- "

" Shut up "

Without warning, he removed the strand of hair that once again hid your nipple before letting his free hand play with the sensitive skin of your breast, admiring your oh so lovely reaction when he did. His other hand released your wrist, before also enjoying the more exquisite and softer feel of this particular area. You did not oppose any resistance. You knew all too well what was waiting for you if you did. And, maybe, a part of you still believed you'll have the deity's mercy if you went along with what he was doing to you.

Wrong.

The tail of your worshipped lord slowly found its way between your thighs, pressing the soft fabric of your panties against your clit. His action made you shiver, and the growing smile Beerus showed you when you felt your nipples hardening under his touch only helped you realise how screwed you truly were.

The iron grip of the destroyer threatened to crush your breasts, and the sharp teeths that came to gently bite your neck sometimes changed into kisses. You couldn't stop a loud moan to escape from your lips when he bit you a little harder than before, and some hot tears to run from your cheeks as he pinched your nipples so.fucking.hard.

" P-Please, my Lord- Aaaahh ~ ♡ "

Did he just...whip your ass with his tail ? Sure he did. And for some reason, you liked it. You liked the red mark that traced its passage on your buttcheek, you loved the bites marks you'll surely be able to see tomorrow... The god of destruction was going to fuck you, and that idea made your whole body warm up instantly.

You didn't have sex in a long time, and being wanted by a powerful deity was kinda flattering to say the least. You had no way to escape, anyway, so why not letting the part of you that wanted it to express itself ? That's what you told yourself to justify the sinful desire that was starting to flow more and more in your heated body as Beerus stole your lips in a passionate kiss.

The tail that still rubbed between your thighs came to whip your ass again, letting another of your moan to break the deep kiss you were receiving from your Lord.

" You're only waiting for that, huh? I warn you, I would be absolutely not lenient with you. You deserve no favorable treatment after having excited me so much ... "

Unconsciously, you bit your lips, causing your God to rip the one and only piece of clothing you possessed.

" Be... Lord Beerus ~ "

" Silence ... On your knees before your God of Destruction "

His hands slid over your body one more time before you obeyed, leaving the thin strips of tissue of his clothing to fall down, now revealing the imposing cock of the deity.

Instinctively, you began to suck, despite the growing pain in your jaw to have something as big in your mouth. Your tongue danced around his dick, only wanting to please the god in front of you, as you slowly slipped a finger in your wet entrance in hope to prepare your body for what will be coming next.

Beerus was in paradise. You did it so well ! Gradually, you gave him a pleasure to which he had lost taste for since, what, a few billion years already ? You were such an obedient little human ! The least he could do to congratulate you was to give you the honor to help you a little bit, didn't he ? A strong grip came to grab your hair, much to your surprise, only to push his cock further into your mouth, smothering the cry of pain you let escape in his action. What the God didn't suspect was that he too ended up moaning as he aggressively continued to abuse your throat. Enough, he had enough, ENOUGH ! Without warning, he removed your head quickly before pushing you down to bump into you brutally.

The scream you obviously let escape immediately made him grab your hips, now letting your loud moans to resonate in the kitchen in a mix of pleasure and pain that Beerus was truly content to hear. Your walls menaced to break at each movements from the Destroyer, and the simple pressure of his hands on your hips could break your bones at any time. Never in your life did you felt so....full.

" Little pervert ~ You love it, don't you ? "

The deity gained in intensity, bending your spine much more than what your body could normally bear. To hear you shout his name again and again was starting to drive him crazy, as well as to revive his impatient temper...

" Answer.... NOW ! "

His tail that crashed once again on your buttocks has only made you shed more tears. Your whole body shivered against your will, impossible to make it stop. You came so hard it made your head rock against the floor, and the divine cum that came to spread in your pussy a few seconds later couldn't had help to contain a second orgasm that ravaged you.

He slipped out of your abused hole, waaay to open now to keep all the fluids inside. You were a shivering, still moaning mess, even if you already had finished.

" Didn't want to answer, my adorable servant ? "

Beerus lifted you up, using once again his prodigious force to press you against the wall, placing his still erected dick in front of your entrance. You didn't have the strength to answer, you didn't even remembered which you needed to answer for, to be honest.

Your blushing face, your pained moans, your trembling body, the way you avoided his gaze... For Beerus, this was awfully cute. You were awfully cute. So cute, in fact, that he wanted to do it again ~

After all, your lack of response was an affront to your God ;)

You screamed in pleasure before you had the time to recover your senses, and your still sensitive body collapsed again under the grip of the destroyer. Cradled by your cries and your moans, Beerus allowed himself to soil your work space a little more, during the different orgasms that followed.

He left no place of your body untamed, he even redoubled strength and caresses to make you say everything he wanted you to tell him.

His dick was good ? Of course it was !

Be filled with his cum ? Yes ! Every part of your body must be !

Never going back on Earth, never see your family again ? Sure ! If it was what you Master and Lord wanted...

Your mental health slowly broke with each one of your orgasms, to the point that you were finally convinced and even happy to become his pleasure object for the rest of your mortal life.

It's a little surprised and disappointed that Beerus saw a solar ray illuminate your body, despite the closed shutters. It was time to end this little game that was his, and to let you recover a little ... At least until tonight ~ Before cumming for the last time, he let his eyes filled with lust contemplate your kitchen, and particularly the few places where he didn't take you to make you beg for more. He filled your belly once again, as he finished to admire how hoarse your breathing was.

" When you get a little better, clean me all this mess. I leave you all the rest of the day to do it. No need to cook, today, just make sure you have enough energy to go to my apartments at the end of the afternoon ~ "

You barely had the strength to nod, your throat was so dry from the screamings that you couldn't let any word to escape from your lips. The clothes and jewelry regained the burning skin of the destroyer, now satisfied with the scarlet color that your buttocks took. He exited the room, not without exchanging a last accomplice gaze with you. You truly were his favorite little human ~

_______________

Beerus growled at the touch of his erection rubbing against the soft fabric of his pajamas, making him regret to actually have gone back to bed, while he could have realized this scenario that he couldn't stop to visualise in his mind. If one day he had been told that he would use his mental visualization for that purpose ... He wasn't going to hide it, he was a little bit ashamed of himself to imagine all of that, but you were so tempting... And thinking of you this way was better than waking you up brutally in the middle of the night to satisfy his impulses... Yes ? No ? HE DIDN'T EVEN KNOW !

Why did he leave after eating one of your cookie ? Did he was too shocked by your beautiful body ? Or was that because he didn't wanted to loose the precious food you provided him everyday just for a little bit of amusement ? He curses himself for his indulgent behaviour towards you, while the sinful nipple of yours shown again in his memories.

His sleep was going to be hard to regain... :(

You truly were lucky your cookies were so good....

He growled again.... Godammit... ( or Zenodammit ? XD )

_________________________

This is it ! Hope you've enjoyed it so far, and, as always, thanks for reading, pal 👋

#beerus #beerus x reader #dragon ball super #dragon ball

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lady-oceana9518 · 6 years ago

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Spa Day (A Charlastor Fic)

A/N: Apologies for the long post! I haven’t figured out how to add a “Read More” link on mobile. Also, I wrote the majority of this after a couple of margaritas😆 But am really happy with how it turned out! I hope y’all enjoy the fluffiness!!❤️

It was an early morning at the Hazbin Hotel, and Charlie, Vaggie, Niffty, and Husk were already awake and busy moving furniture around the foyer. Charlie was so pleased with the progress her tenants were making with their rehabilitation that she decided to organize a spa day at the hotel! Needless to say, she was very excited. They had rented several specialized tables for massages and facials, and were repurposing the hotel’s softest armchairs into manicure/pedicure stations. There were also a multitude of folding partitions that the crew used to separate each station, for a little extra privacy.

Just after she and Vaggie spread out the last partition between two massage tables, Charlie stepped back to admire their handiwork, wiping the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand as she did so. She smiled, satisfied and excited for the day to come. However, her grin faltered as she realized that something, or rather someone, was missing: her beloved mate, Alastor, better known as the Radio Demon. She had no clue where he was and hoped he was alright. After a few moments, though, Charlie shrugged and turned back to the rest of her friends. Alastor had a habit of coming and going as he pleased, especially when he decided to go on one of his “hunts”, but she was sure he’d turn up sooner or later that day.

“Alright! Gather around, everyone!” Charlie called, beckoning the others over to her. After finishing up the tasks at hand, they approached her, awaiting what she would say next. “So! Like we discussed before, here’s how today is going to go. Niffty will do manicures and pedicures, Angel will give massages, Vaggie will do facials, and Husk will supply everyone with hot tea and/or champagne. But remember, no more than one glass of champagne per person! I’ll be helping each of you as needed and making sure that everything runs smoothly. Any questions?” The others shook their heads. “Alright! Let’s head to our stations and get ready!!” With that, Charlie pranced off to direct their tenants to their desired spa service, while her fellow staff members walked to their respective stations at a more sedate pace.

A couple hours in, their spa day was going perfectly! Soothing soundscapes serenaded the hotel tenants from speakers placed strategically around the lobby. Meanwhile, Vaggie applied a moisturizing mask to the face of an anglerfish demon; Angel used his many arms to massage knots out of the back muscles of a tall, red-skinned demon who he seemed quite taken with; Niffty excitedly conversed with a black-furred hellhound as she painted her nails with an iridescent silver polish; and Husk carried a tray containing mugs of chamomile tea to a few demons relaxing on one of the lobby’s plush couches.

Sighing contentedly, Charlie was about to make another round to check on each of her friends’ progress when she heard the front door creak open ever so slightly. She turned around just as none other than Alastor stepped surreptitiously into the lobby. He looked uncharacteristically tired. That, coupled with the fact that she hadn’t seen him since the previous afternoon, made her think that he was either hunting, putting other high-ranking demons in their place, or both. Even though his clothes looked a little rumpled, which was also unusual for him, he had obviously taken care to remove any bloodstains from his previous activities, whatever they were. Charlie smiled fondly at him. He knew that she was a little squeamish (as funny as that was, seeing as how she was the Princess of Hell) and she really appreciated the effort he put into being more thoughtful and sensitive.

“Al!” Charlie exclaimed, all but running over to her mate and giggling happily as she wrapped her arms around him. “I missed you,” she murmured in a softer tone. She took a few moments to lay her head against his lean chest and savor the sound of his strong heartbeat, then peeked up at him with an adoring expression on her face.

The Radio Demon chuckled, then placed a soft kiss on her forehead and nuzzled his nose against hers as he returned her fond gaze with one of his own.

“Well hello there sweetheart. I missed you too,” Alastor replied in a low tone, the usual radio feedback gone from his voice for those few moments.

Charlie felt her cheeks flush at their close proximity and his sultry tone of voice, which only caused her mate’s trademark grin to stretch wider.

“A-are you feeling alright? Did your...hunt, or whatever, go well? You look a little tired, Al,” Charlie inquired, cupping his face with one of her hands as her brow furrowed on concern.

Alastor chuckled, closing his eyes briefly as he covered her hand with one of his own and leaned into her gentle touch. “Not to worry, my dear! Got into a bit of a skirmish with Vox but all is well now. Your ‘deer’ Radio Demon showed him who’s really in charge around here.” Alastor purposefully pitched his voice down an octave and his gaze toward Charlie turned half-lidded. He was doing his best to fluster her as he loved seeing her reactions, and he definitely wasn’t disappointed.

Charlie blushed even more at that and had to turn away briefly until she could get her complexion under control. Once she regained her composure, she turned back to her mate with a bright smile and an idea that would hopefully help him relax after the stressful night he’d had.

“So...I know I mentioned that I’d be organizing a spa day for our tenants since everyone has been making such great progress!” Alastor nodded along, gazing attentively at his mate with his usual grin in place. “The thing is, though...all of the other staff are occupied with giving treatments to our residents.” Charlie began to get a little flustered at the thought of what she was about to ask Alastor, but soldiered on anyway. “Um...I know you’ve had a stressful night, what with dealing with Vox and all...so, is there anything I can do to help you relax? A massage, maybe...?” Charlie trailed off, gazing up at Alastor inquiringly with her naturally red-stained cheeks colored an even darker red by her prominent blush.

Alastor’s eyes widened a fraction at his mate’s forwardness, though the rest of his expression remained unchanged. “Why, Charlie, my dear! So forward today!” He laughed to himself, then leveled his mate with a warm gaze and took one of her hands in his own. “You know I’m not one for such...intimate activities,” At that, Charlie’s demeanor deflated almost imperceptibly, though she strived to remain considerate of him and his preferences as far as physical touch was concerned. “But! If it’s you who will be doing the massaging, my dear, how could I ever refuse?”

Charlie’s grin returned to its usual brightness as she grabbed Alastor’s hands in her own and began to pull him toward the hotel’s grand staircase. “Great!! You’ll be relaxed and recharged again in no time!! Since there are so many demons down here already, would you feel a little more comfortable if I gave you your massage in our room?”

Alastor’s gaze softened as he wrapped one arm around Charlie’s waist and pulled her close to his side. “That sounds wonderful, sweetheart. Thank you.”

With that, the pair began to climb the staircase to their suite on the top floor of the hotel. Angel caught Charlie’s gaze as they passed, and he gave her a wink and six thumbs-up when he caught sight of her and Alastor nestled so closely against one another. Charlie blushed slightly but nonetheless gave her friend a subtle smile and thumbs-up of her own.

Once Charlie and Alastor entered their tastefully-decorated suite, Charlie closed and locked the door behind them. “Now, when people get massages, they normally remove their shirts to give the massage therapist easier access to their back. But if you don’t want to do that, Al, it’s perfectly fine!! Just undress to your comfort level. Or not at all! Whatever you want to do.” When Charlie finished speaking and finally turned around, however, her jaw dropped and her eyes widened. There was her devilishly handsome mate laying shirtless on their bed. He was stretched out comfortably on his stomach with his eyes closed serenely and his head resting on top of his crossed arms.

“I’m ready when you are, my sweet,” he all but purred.

“O-okay!” Charlie squeaked. She scurried to their en suite bathroom to grab a bottle of coconut oil and returned to the bedside.

With a snap of his fingers, Alastor turned on the same soothing spa music Charlie had playing in the lobby, as his mate warmed some of the oil between her hands. She began massaging his back in broad strokes, then decided to focus on his shoulders where she felt the most tension. Alastor groaned softly in pleasure, already feeling himself melting beneath her attentive hands.

After spending about 20 minutes loosening the knots in her mate’s back muscles, Charlie instructed him to turn over so she could work on his neck muscles with the aid of gravity. Alastor sighed, a content smile stretching across his face as Charlie’s nimble fingers massaged the back of his neck. A few minutes later, she pleasantly surprised him by reaching up to massage his scalp, followed by his soft ears. She rubbed them from their base to their furry, tufted tips, delighting in the soft moans he seemed to subconsciously utter.

Deciding that he had reached his limit, Alastor gently but firmly grabbed Charlie around the waist and pulled her on top of him.

“A-Al...?” Charlie questioned with curiosity as she glanced up to see his eyes closed and a soft smile on his handsome face.

“Shh...let’s just relax,” Alastor murmured as he wrapped one arm around Charlie’s back and carded through her silken hair with the fingers of his opposite hand.

“Mm...alright...” Charlie mumbled with a yawn, snuggling against Alastor’s lean but firm chest and already beginning to drift off.

Just as they were both about to fall asleep, Alastor whispered, “Thanks for looking out for me, doll. I love you.”

#charlastor fic #charlastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #charlie hazbin hotel #charlie magne #cute #fluff #romance

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khoicesbyk · 5 years ago

Text

The Royal Romance.

Second Chance Romance.

A/N: I’ve decided to go into my own little TRR/TRH world and create an AU. This will be fun! So; Talley Ho! *in my Sherlock Holmes voice*

Rated: Mature. | Contains sexual content and strong language. (You know? The usual from me. 😁) | Bolded and/or italicized words are conversations and thoughts of the characters. | Characters: King Marquise Rys (LI) and Queen Shanelle Dawkins (MC) | All Characters: names (except MC) and some plot dialogue are property of Pixelberry. | Current Word Count: 5,430 words. (more or less. I stop counting after editing and re-editing. 🤷🏾‍♀️)

Chapter 1.) Return

Shanelle sat at the bottom of the grand staircase of the Beaumont estate trying to wrap her head around all that had happened since the coronation.

Marquise the man she’s madly in love with; went from Crown Prince to King of Cordonia right before her eyes. Then her world came crashing down; as she was framed. The utter humiliation cost her the one thing she wanted more than anything; it cost her him. Someone set her up and she had no idea who it was. And she never got the chance to find out.

Instead she was sent back to D.C. with her tail tucked firmly between her legs. She knew she never had a chance against the ladies of the court; but her stubborn determination got her into the top 3 women for him to choose. And she just knew he’d choose her; until those photos of her and Tariq were shown. And her world came crumbling down.

When she got home she had to deal with her disappointed stepmom and VERY pissed off father. They love her dearly and never want to see her hurt. But; her father’s furious that she up and left on a whim over a man she barely knew. So for the past 2 years; she’s been under lockdown. While she tries to pick up the pieces of her broken heart and shattered life. Her daddy was gracious enough to give her the receptionist job at his surgical practice. That way he could keep an eye on her.

Life for her went back to being relatively normal and quiet. Until one Sunday morning as her daddy got ready to preach; two very familiar faces showed up. After church announcements were read; visitors were encouraged to stand and give their home church and affiliation. That’s when Maxwell and Bertrand stood up from their pews. “Good Sunday morning to you all! My name is Bertrand Beaumont; and I am the Duke of Ramsford and this is my brother Lord Maxwell Beaumont. We are delighted to be here and thank you for your hospitality!”, he explained to the congregation. “Yeah! It’s great to be here! We’re actually here to see Shanelle. But I don’t see her though. Ohhh! There she is! She’s in the choir loft Bertrand. Hiiii Shanelle!”, Maxwell quipped as he waved at her.

She was mortified and her daddy was pissed. When he turned back to face her; he mouthed the words, “Pastor’s Study! Now!” when he turned back to the congregation; his face was neutral. “Thank you Mr. Beaumont! I’m sure you, your brother and my daughter have much to discuss.” With a deep breath; she collected Maxwell and Bertrand and quickly ushered them into her dad’s office.

Once inside; she just had to hear what both of them had to say. “Maxwell as happy as I am to see you and Bertrand; WHAT IN THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?”, she asked him while trying to keep her voice down. “A Happy Reunion? We missed you.”, he replies. “It’s been 2 years!”, she said to him. “We were hoping that you could lead us to Jesus?”, he said sheepishly. “If I didn’t love you so much; I’d hit you with a bible! Also; you didn’t answer my question.”, she told him. “It’s Marquise. He needs you.”, he said to her. “No he doesn’t. Besides he’s married. The wedding was in all the papers.”, she told him.

That’s when Bertrand spoke up. “About that. Maxwell is right. He’s miserable. Cordonia is in need of an heir. Madeleine doesn’t want children, not that he’d touch her anyway...They are in the last stages of getting a divorce.”, he said to Shanelle. “You’re joking, right? They’re getting a divorce?”, she asks Bertrand. “No jokes. Technically since they haven’t consummated the marriage, it will be annulled.”, he replied.

That statement took her breath away.

“He just doesn’t want anyone, if it’s not you.”, Maxwell told her. “This is insane. If he wants nothing to do with her; why did he marry her?”, she asks. “He felt like he had no choice.”, Maxwell replies. “Right now, Cordonia looks weak. If we don’t have an heir soon there will be an uprising.”, Bertrand explains. “So what are you asking me?”, she asks them both. After a glance between them; Maxwell spoke, “Come back to Cordonia and be the Queen he needs. We all need you.” “Come back? After all this time? After everything that happened? I can’t do that. I can’t go through the hell again. We still don’t know who set me up. I can’t. I just can’t.”, she told him. “Marquise will make everything right. We just need you to give him a chance.”, he said to her. “Maxwell I don’t think you understand what that scandal did to me. The humiliation alone has left me scarred and scared to even consider love ever being a possibility in my life.”, she told him.

That’s when Bertrand laid a hand on her shoulder and said, “1 Peter 4:8 Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins.” “I’m not saying to ignore your pain. But if you come back it could be a chance to heal. Just tell me you’ll think about it.”, Maxwell said to her. “If I decide to do this again; how do you know we won’t wind up right back where we started?”, she asks.

“It’s because I know in my heart that he’s been miserable since the moment you left. I also believe that the moment he lays eyes on you the part of him that died will be resurrected. He will know what it feels like to breathe again. He won’t let go of that feeling...he can’t.”, Maxwell explains. “You really believe that he’s still in love with me after being apart for 2 years?”, she asks. “I am telling you he has been holding his breath for 2 years. He is a shell of himself without you. Just the mention of your name; brings a twinkle to his eyes that we haven’t seen in years.”, he says to her.

She sighs. The thought of him being miserable without her was starting to get to her. “Oh my God. My life finally gets back to some form of normalcy; and here you two come back to flip it upside down again.”, she says with a small chuckle. “What’s life without a little plot twist?”, he teased. “Maxwell Beaumont! You’re impossible! And I mean that in the most loving way possible.”, she replies. “Right back at you, babe.”, he says to her. “Lady Shanelle. We need your answer. It’s imperative.”, Bertrand says to her. After taking a deep breath and pacing for a bit; she says to them, “I can’t believe I’m about to do this…again but gentlemen…let’s go get my king.”

Both were ecstatic. “Wonderful!”, Bertrand said to her. “Woo! My girl is back!”, Maxwell quipped. “Not so fast you two! We still have one more hurdle.”, she said to them. “What?”, they ask. “My dad. He’s not gonna let me go.”, she replies. “Let me handle that! No one can resist the Maxwell Beaumont charm!”, Maxwell said to her. “Good luck with that!”, she told him.

After service was over; her father and stepmom joined them in the study. That’s when they laid out the plan for Shanelle to return. But her daddy wasn’t trying to hear it. “No! Absolutely not! You are NOT going back! Not after everything that happened!”, he growled. “Daddy—“, she started to say before he cut her off, “Shanelle, don’t you dare! I am not about to watch you get your heart broken by that man again!” “Daddy it wasn’t his fault!”, she told him. “It might as well have been his fault! Do you think I want to deal with vultures in the media at my door again? Do you think I want them crowding my office again?!”, he asked with his voice raised. “Rodney…calm down!”, her stepmom Jackie told him. After taking a deep breath; he spoke. “All I’m saying is that I don’t want to see my baby girl get hurt again. After watching what that jackass Damon did to you; and now this so called king? No! I’m not going witness you get hurt all over again!” “Daddy please…”, she begged. “No! I’m not having this conversation with you.”, he told her.

Shanelle looked to her stepmom for help. That’s when Jackie sighed and said, “Rodney you know that you can’t stop her.” He looked at her like she had lost all sense. “Jackie! Who’s side are you on?”, he asks his wife. “As many times as RJ has come home from a failed relationship; just for him to jump into another one. You can’t be mad at our oldest daughter.”, she tells him. “But Jackie; Shanelle is—“, he started to say, “a grown woman. Just like Shana is a grown woman. Shana packed up herself and R3 just to move all the way to Seattle for her wife. And let’s not forget; RJ lives in Boston with his what, 3rd girlfriend in the last 9 months?”

He pouted. “My point to you Rodney is this: if you didn’t have anything to say to our two younger children you have nothing to say to our oldest child. She loves him. She wants to be with him. We can’t stop her. We can only love and support her. As we should.”, she told him. He looked at his wife then to his oldest daughter and says, “okay! Okay! I know when I’m beaten. Just promise me that you’re not making a mistake.” Shanelle smiles softly at her dad and says, “I promise daddy. I know what I’m doing.”

Rodney stood up from his desk then walked over to her and hugged her tightly. “I love you so much, baby…I just…I can’t stand the thought of you being hurt.”, he told her as he hugged her. “I know daddy. I’ll be fine; I promise you that.”, she told him. When he looked at her; he smiled softly. “I guess you should go home and get packed.”, he told her. She kissed her dad on the cheek and she said, “I love you daddy!” He kissed her on her forehead and replied, “I love you too, baby.”

He then looked to Maxwell and Bertrand and said, “you two had better take good care of my daughter! Do NOT make me come all the way over there! Do I make myself clear?” Both nodded their heads emphatically. “Good! Now go get her packed up; before I change my mind.”, he told them. With that Shanelle, Maxwell and Bertrand were off to get her packed; then they made their way back to Cordonia.

As she sat at the bottom of the steps; she couldn’t believe she was back in the country she was humiliated in. “I’m here. I’m actually here.”, she said to herself. Or so she thought. “Yep! You’re here! And I’m so happy to have you back!”, Maxwell said as he sat next to her. “Thanks Maxwell. I’m just ready to get my man back.”, she told him. “I know. But you know that it won’t be easy, right?”, he asks. “I know. Everyone will be looking at me and wondering why I’ve come back after all these years.”, she replies. “That and there will be more women vying for Marquise and his hand.”, he told her.

“Greeeeeeat! Just what I wanted: another social season!”, she said sarcastically. “But at least it won’t be like your first one.”, he said to her. “It won’t be?”, she asks. “No thankfully. You won’t have to go through all the pettiness and hosting. Instead we’re going global.”, he told her. “I don’t get it.”, she said to him. “You are one of 7 women vying for Marquise. One from each continent except Antarctica. But the good thing is; we know that they don’t stand a chance. And while you’re vying; we’ll work on finding Tariq and clearing your name.”, he told her. “Are you sure that we can?”, she asks. “Yup because you’ve got me! Ohh! And them too!”, he said as he pointed to her left.

When she turned her head; in walked Drake and Hana. “Hana! Drake! You’re here!”, she said as she ran up to hug them both. “It’s good to see you too! I’ve missed you!”, Hana told her. “I’ve missed you too! I’ve even missed you, marshmallow.”, she said as she hugged Drake. “Missed you too Dawkins. It’s been way too long.”, he said to her. “Wait! Shouldn’t you be with Marquise?”, she asked him. “He asked me to help you. And here I am.”, he replies. “When was the last time you saw him?”, she asks.

“The day Maxwell and Bertrand left to get you. We’ve had to keep our distance between each other for appearances sake. And well…I might have a girlfriend.”, he replied. “Congrats! I’m happy for you.”, she told him. “And what about you, missy? What has the incredible Hana Lee been up to?”, she asked Hana. “I returned to Shanghai but I was wasn’t happy; so I came back to Cordonia last year, and I’ve been working with Marquise as one of his advisors.”, she told her. “Good. I’m happy to have you both here.”, she said to them. “What about me?”, Maxwell asks. “Yes you too; goof.”, she said as he walked up. “It’s good to have all of you by my side. I love you all so much! Now; let’s go get ready! I have a king to win!”, she told them.

After getting dressed; the group was off to the palace for the Freedom Ball and dinner. It was Marquise’s public appearance since his divorce was finalized a few days before. As each member of court was announced Shanelle was starting to feel nervous about seeing him and the rest of court. “Introducing Lord Maxwell Beaumont, Sir Drake Walker, Lady Hana Lee and Lady Shanelle Dawkins.”, the herald said as the group entered the room together.

The room went silent as all eyes landed on Shanelle. She held onto Maxwell’s arm for dear life. “How you doing?”, he whispered to her. “Every single eye is on me. How am I supposed to be doing?”, she replies. “Just take a deep breath and smile.”, he told her. She did exactly that. “There’s a silver lining in all eyes being on you.”, he said to her. “What’s that?”, she asks. “His eyes are on you as well as everyone else’s”, Maxwell said as he looked towards Marquise.

His eyes never left her. He watched as they walked in. He stood next to his parents and his brother as the court filed in. “Good evening everyone! It is good to see you all! Although the circumstances aren’t ideal it is great to be surrounded by all of you. I do hope you all enjoy yourselves tonight.”, he said to everyone in attendance.

After dinner was served guests mingled and danced; but Shanelle had butterflies in her stomach. She wanted to run and hide; and at the same time she wanted to be alone with him. As the ball was in full swing Shanelle spent most of it dodging questions about the scandalous photos and her whereabouts for the last two years. When the evening came to a close she was exhausted and ready to crash. Thankfully she and the others were staying at the palace and she would meet the other women vying for Marquise the next day at tea.

When she got to her room; she all but collapsed onto her bed. Just as she had dozed off there was a knock at her door. “Go away!”, she groaned. When she went and opened the door; Bastien and two of the King’s Guards were standing on the other side. “Oh no! Not again…”, she said out loud. “Lady Shanelle his majesty requests your presence. Please follow us.”, Bastien said to her. “O-okay! Let me put some shoes on.”, she replied. After throwing her heels back on she followed them to a secluded courtyard within the palace. When she entered the courtyard; there he stood. He had a glass in his hand that she figured was either whiskey, rum or scotch. “Your Majesty, Lady Shanelle as requested.”, Bastien announced. “Thank you. That’ll be all.”, he told him. “Yes your majesty. Lady Shanelle.”, he said as they made their leave.

She watched them leave then turned back to face him. Her heart was pounding in her chest, her mouth was dry and the butterflies in her stomach went into overdrive. After finishing his drink Marquise spoke, “you look beautiful in that gown. Aquamarine is a beautiful color on you. I’m glad I had that dress made specifically for you.” Her eyes went wide. “You did what?”, she asked him in a voice just above a whisper. “I wanted you to stand out and I knew this gown would do just that.”, he told her. “Thank you.”, she told him. “You must hate me not that I blame you. You have to understand that I have regretted my decision every single day.”, he said to her. “I don’t hate you, Marquise.”, she told him. “I’ll take that as a small victory.”, he told her. “I just want to know why. I thought you loved me.”, she said to him. “I do. God knows I do. Shanelle I love you with every bit of my heart and soul.”, he told her. She screwed her eyes shut to keep tears from falling. “Then why choose her over me?”, she asked while trying to keep her voice from cracking. “Shanelle…look at me.”, he said as he tilted her chin up.

When she opened her eyes; he saw the pain she had been in; over the last two years.

“I want you to hear me when I say I had no choice, Shanelle. I wanted to pick you. I wanted to make you happy. I wanted to make you my wife and queen. For two years I have been miserable. I didn’t want to go through with the marriage to her but again I had no choice. In order to ascend to the throne I had to marry her. It was the worst mistake of my life. For two years all I’ve done is longed for you. I’ve craved you. I’ve needed you. And God knows I’ve wanted you. I’ve wanted to touch you. I’ve wanted to see you. I’ve wanted to taste you. You are the love of my life, Shanelle. There is no other woman for me but you. There’s only you. I only want you. Which is why when I filed for divorce I told Maxwell that you had to come back. I had to have you again. I had to feel my American Beauty in my arms again.”, he explained as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close.

She loved the strength of his arms, the smell of his cologne and his pretty brown eyes. “You know your other suitors would say that you aren’t being fair to them, your majesty.”, she told him. “I don’t care about being fair to them. All I care about right now is messing up your lipstick.”, he told her before he claimed her lips in his. She melted in his embrace. His tongue dueled with hers as their kiss intensified and deepened.

When their kiss finally ended; she was dizzy and thankful to have his arms around her. “Damn I’ve missed that.”, he whispered against her lips. He kissed her again; wanting to savor the taste of her lips. “I just kissed the softest lips that God has ever made.”, he sang to her. She instantly knew the song. “And I am so in love with the girl who holds the lips he gave.”, she sang back to him. “You know your songs.”, he told her. “I know my artists. And for the record I love Eric Roberson. I saw him in concert last month.”, she said to him. “I really don’t want to stop.”, he said to her. “Then don’t. Don’t stop kissing me. Don’t stop touching me.”, she whispered to him. “Shanelle…”, he said before crashing his lips into hers. When this shared kiss ended he was incensed by her. “I want you now!”, he growled. “I belong to you, my king. Take me as you see fit.”, she told him.

“Come with me.”, he told her as he led her to another door to the courtyard. After he turned on the lights she realized that they were in a bedroom. “This bedroom is beautiful.”, she said as she took in her surroundings. “Thank you. It’s one of the many spare bedrooms. I would bring you to my personal chambers but I don’t want to wait.”, he told her. “A bedroom is a bedroom to me. Although; you do owe me a future tour of yours.”, she told him. “Comme tu veux, mon amour.”, he spoke to her. “That’s French isn’t it?”, she asks. He nodded his head yes. “Thought so…I don’t speak French.”, she told him. “It means as you wish, my love.”, he said to her. She smirked at him. He placed a featherlight kiss on the inside of her right wrist. He continued kissing up her arm; sending chills running through her. “Do you like that, my love?”, he asks. “More than you know, Marquise.”, she replied. “Good. I have to make up for lost time, my love.”, he told her before he continued.

When he got to her neck; she shivered in his arms. “You’re shivering, my love.”, he whispered in her ear. “Your fault…your majesty.”, she whispered to him. “You dare accuse your future king of bringing you pleasure?”, he asks. “Yes your majesty I do.”, she told him. “Well then; it looks like I have work to do.”, he told her before kissing her again. As they kissed his left hand searched and found the zipper in the back of her gown; while his right tangled in her hair.

As his left hand slowly pulled the zipper down; his right pulled her head back gently so he could run his tongue along her neck. “Yesssssssssss…she moaned softly. She was a puddle in his arms. He nipped at her chin before saying, “I missed hearing your voice, my love. I missed hearing you moan.”, he told her. “Keep that up and I’ll be doing more than that, my king.”, she told him.

He smirked before he went back to sucking on her neck. When her gown pooled at her feet Marquise stopped long enough to marvel at her in her red lingerie. “Mon amour, tu es absolument belle.”, he told her. “You really love speaking French, don’t you?”, she asks with a giggle. “Second favorite language.”, he said with a small shrug. She smiled at him and asked him, “although you look fine as wine in that suit; it’s blocking my view so can we lose it now?” She pulled him into a searing kiss as she helped him out of his suit.

She loved running her hands up his body. His abs were a work of art to her. His shoulders are broad and beautiful. And when her hands went lower to his pants; she felt his bulging center. Which caused him to groan against her neck. “Mmmm! Someone’s happy to see me!”, she said to him. “You’ve no idea.”, he told her. “You look a little restrained, my king. Let me alleviate that for you.”, she told him with a coy smile.

He drew a sharp breath as she slid his pants and underwear down. She drooled over a very hard, very naked Marquise. “Ohhh sweet Jesus!”, she told him. “See something you like, my love?”, he asks with a wink. "Indeed I do!”, she says before biting her bottom lip. “Now why am I naked but you aren’t?”, he asks as he pulls her into his arms. “You don’t like me in lingerie?”, she replies with a question of her own. “I love it. But I think you’d look better out of it.”, he told her before picking her up and carrying her to the bed.

After laying her down on the bed; he slid on top of her and immediately went to work removing her bra and panties. He kissed her right shoulder as he slid her bra strap down and did the same to her left shoulder. With her straps down he focused on the cups.

He kissed over each cup; wanting to get to her breasts inside them. That’s when guided his hands to the clasp in the front. “Oooh! Sexy!”, he told her. “Thank you, your majesty. I was hoping you’d like it.”, she told him. “Ohhh I do! Now if you’ll excuse me, my love…”, he told her before diving straight for them. She was in heaven while he was laser focused on pleasing her breasts. Kissing, nipping, licking, sucking on and tweaking her nipples. He loved hearing her moan and feeling her body move underneath his hard body.

His mouth traveled downward to her midsection. He kissed along her ribs and stomach eliciting different sounds for her. “Don’t stop Marquise! Please don’t stop!”, she begged. He dragged his tongue along the top of her panties. “Taste me…”, she moaned. That was all he needed to hear from her. He used his teeth to pull her panties down. The heat between her thighs blazed for him. He kissed and massaged her thighs open. “Bonjour mon petit amour.”, he whispered against her thigh as he got closer to her center.

He watched her bite her bottom lip. He slid the fingers of his right hand; along her inner most folds, slowly coaxing her open for him. “Ohhh God!”, she moaned. She was wet for him; just what he wanted. “Time to eat!”, he said before sliding his tongue inside her. It caused her back to arch while she cried out from the pleasure. He repeatedly dragged his tongue from her clit to her entrance. It was enough to make her breathing stagger.

“God! Yesssssssssss!”, she moaned. She was on fire because of his mouth. She was so focused on him eating her out; that she didn’t feel him slip two fingers inside her at first. His fingers were just as magical as his mouth. He deliberately was driving her crazy. Soon her hips started to roll; as the speed of his fingers increased. She was trying to hang on for dear life as he gave her the most intense pleasure she had ever felt. Her orgasm was twisted around her blooming internal heat. Both were threatening to overtake her. “Oh My God! Oh My God! Oh My God! I’m so close! I…Ohhh God! Don’t stop! Don’t stop!”, she shouted.

He gave her exactly what she asked for. It took one final swirl of his tongue to snap her orgasm; and to make her internal heat burn her alive. “YES! YES! YES!”, she screamed as she rode wave after wave of her crashing orgasm. When he let her go; she was shaking. “You’re shaking, my love.”, he said with a grin. “Gee your majesty; I wonder why.”, she replied as she tried to catch her breath. She brought his lips to hers; and tasted herself on his lips.

He pinned her hands above her head as their kiss intensified. When it broke; she was desperate for him and he craved her. “I want to devour you, my love.”, he whispered against her lips. “Thank God for birth control.”, she told him with a wink. “For now anyway. Because soon my love; you will be my wife, my queen and the mother of my future child.”, he told her. “I like the sound of that.”, she whispered softly. “Good. You’ve earned it, mon amour.”, he told her before he kissed her again. Their tongues tangled as they kissed. He wanted her and was determined; not to let her leave until he had her. “Take me, Marquise…”, she begged. “It would be my absolute pleasure.”, he told her.

He rolled onto his back and had her straddle him. With his left hand planted firmly on her ass and his right anchored to her right hip; he was in heaven. “God you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, my love.”, he told her. “Mmmmmm…Keep talking.”, she said to him. “Why talk when I can show?”, he asks her. She smirks at him and says against his lips, “show me, my king.”

He took her lips in his and savored her taste; while his hands kneaded her ass. In that moment; his hunger for her grew and drove him. He was obsessed with the touch of her skin on his. He rubbed his hardened length against her wetness. It caused her to moan against his lips. He circled her entrance which made her shiver in his arms. He broke their kiss to whisper in her ear, “mine! All mine!”

“Marquise”, was all she managed to say before he entered her. “God!”, she moaned. She was just the way he wanted her to be. “So beautiful! So wet! So tight!”, he moaned as she rode him like a pro. Feeling her bounce up and down on him was a high he had missed. “Yes! More! Give it to me! Take me!”, she moaned. “That’s it, my love! Take it! Take me!”, he shouted.

The sound of their bodies coming together; made her head spin. She was deep in a delicious delirium because of him. “Tell me how you want it, my love.”, he told her. “Harder! Give it to me! Don’t hold back!”, she said to him. He was more than happy to acquiesce her request. When he brought her down hard onto him; she let out a sound that was a half gasp, half moan. “Is this what you wanted, my love?”, he asks. “Yesssssssssss! Fuck me! Give me all of you, Marquise!”, she screamed.

He buried himself to the hilt inside her then pulled out again and again. She dug her nails into his chest; as she continued to ride him. It caused her orgasm to surge higher; and pushed her closer and closer to the edge of her climax. But she wasn’t quite there yet; not until he whispered in her ear. “Don’t hold back, my love! Let go! Let it out! Cum for me!”

“Marquise! Oh shit! I'm gonna cum! Oh fuck! Its coming! Yes! Yes! Yes! I—“, was all she could say before her orgasm erupted and took her with it. She collapsed onto his chest That was all he needed to hear her say. “Yesssssssssss! Cum for me, my love! Oh God it’s coming! Here it comes! It’s all for you!”, he said through gritted teeth as he went over his own climax. She soon collapsed on top of him; as both were covered in sweat, saliva and cum.

While his right hand skimmed her spine; she rubbed the scratches on his chest. “Sorry about that.”, she spoke softly. “Don’t be they’ll heal. Are you alright?”, he asks her. “Yes I’m fine. I just…I forgot what being in your arms felt like.”, she told him. “Well hopefully; I’ll be able to remind you throughout the competition.”, he said to her. “You do know; you’ll have to give equal time to all your suitors, right?”, she asks. He groaned in protest. “Now! Now! Be nice, Marquise!”, she warned him playfully. “I am being nice! They’ll be here won’t they?”, he asked.

She just chuckled at him. “It’s funny. You forgot what it was like to be in my arms; and truth be told, I forgot what it was like to have you in my arms.”, he told her. “I missed you Marquise…so much.”, she told him. “I missed you too, my love. I swore to myself that if you ever came back; I’d do everything that I had to; in order to keep you here with me.”, he said to her. She kissed him softly as she snuggled against his chest. “There is so much I have to make up for. So much I have to tell you; but it can wait. Right now; all I want is for you to fall asleep in my arms.”, he told her as she dozed off to a peaceful sleep.

😘

#choices #pixelberry #choices stories you play #khoicesbyk #choices fanfiction #fanfic #the royal heir #the royal romance #queen of cordonia #queen shanelle #king marquise #king of cordonia

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bladekindeyewear · 5 years ago

Text

HS^2 bloggin’ mainline 2020-05-19

Figured an upd8 was coming, it’s felt like enough time has passed for one.

Huh, looking at my last post I’d completely forgotten I was supposed to play through Pesterquest sometime... work is busy and stressing me out a bit, I’m not sure when I’ll have the energy on the side to do that. (Maybe I’ll livetweet it like I did Undertale a while ago, but this time not looking at my twitter replies so I don’t get spoiled by One Guy™?)

Also, including bonus commentary on A Threat Sensed.

Okay, going in completely blind. I’d guessed from context that we’re hopping over to Meat side to get a chapter there before we can come back to actually see Yiffy?

Yep. Okay, what is this about exactly?

(Agh, dammit, I’ve been copying and pasting so much at work remoting into Windows lately that now I’m automatically trying to hit control-C instead of command-C to copy.)

> CHAPTER 9. How Goes The Eulogizing, Dear?

CONTENT NOTE: This chapter contains Child Abuse.

Which one???

Wait

JANE: (Where is he?) JANE: (It's a question I've found myself asking many times in recent days.)

Holy SHIT we get two Candy chapters in a row??? So we might see her right away?? No, it’s gotta just be another tiny glimpse.

(Has two Candy chapters in a row happened before? Future Boots, scroll back up and put this here. FUTURE BOOTS: “I forgot to scroll back up and put that here.” EDIT: Also, not the first time with two in a row, but it IS the first time with THREE in a row, huh.)

So Jane has to be talking about either Tavros or Dave. --Oh, if this was a Candy Side chapter title, I guess Rose or Jade is eulogizing Dave for John?

> (==>)

JANE: (Where now is our merry savior?) JANE: (Where is the horn that was honking?) JANE: (Where is the cape and the codpiece, and the...) JANE: (The...) JANE: (Oh, fiddlesticks.)

What? Is she reading a childrens’ book? --Oh. She’s eulogizing Gamzee. So that gives us a third option, where the rebellion crashes the funeral somehow, probably audiovisually rather than in person. (Which would make sense, given Candy practically began with Gamzee crashing Dirk’s funeral.)

> (==>)

Ah never mind, she’s still writing it.

That sure is a single button drama-remote that’s going to be pressed at some point. Oh, and who the fuck keeps a spork in a pen cup??? --No no, don’t say it’s one of those pens with a spork at the eraser end, either ready-made or rubber-banded to the side. That would make sense. You totally know it isn’t that and is just a spork.

JANE: (Okay, poetry is out.) JANE: (What else?) JANE: (Hrm...) JANE: (I've always been pretty good at crying on cue.) JANE: (Could I try staging an emotional breakdown?) JANE: (That could work; playing to people's humanity.)

Why were you crying in Jake’s arms about his death if you didn’t care that much? Did you just want him to hold you and kinda make him feel in on things again? Or did you just cry yourself out about him?

JANE: (Or whatever is the more inclusive term.)

I bet the rest of Earth C figured out a more inclusive term millenia ago FUCK I accidentally added millennia to my dictionary misspelled instead of correcting it hold on--

...There, killed the entry for it. ...Huh. Take a look at my Chrome dictionary’s custom-added words over the years, apparently:

Caliborn Eridan Kanaya Matriorb Meenah Tavros alchemiter dichotomic nephilim reblogged uncaptchalogues uncaptchaloguing

That’s fun.

Okay back to reading. Millennia. Phew! Where was I.

JANE: (One really good and calculated weep could do it, I think.) JANE: (But then there's the danger that I might get carried away and do it for real.) JANE: (And I can't risk that.)

So still feeling something, just too used to calculating over the past years.

JANE: (What can I say about him that will stir up their emotions?) JANE: (Do I mention the stuff about the milk?) JANE: (Think Crocker, think.)

WHY would you-- how much did Gamzee normalize adult breastfeeding?!

JAKE: Ahoy over there!

Not the best time.

(The thing with the divorce papers from the Epilogue and John implying he was planning with Jake to execute something that sounds like a divorce... is that going to be sprung here? Did her lawyers send the divorce papers way back when she was in a fit of pique, and he just had them available to sign now at the tactical moment? Or... let me pull the exact text...)

JOHN: now, harry anderson, i know that you and tavros haven't always gotten along. JOHN: but i am going to have to ask you to try and look out for him for the time being. JOHN: your uncle jake and i... well, i'll explain later. JOHN: let's just say that gamzee isn't the only family member jane is losing today.

(So is John going to submit the papers? Or did they already go through a while ago and default custody to John or something who’s going to adopt him too or some nonsense? And did he plan this out with Jake NOW, or a while ago, and if only a while ago, is Jake going to KNOW whatever John’s about to pull in that respect is about to happen??)

> (==>)

Butte

Janepalme

> (==>)

JAKE: Er... how goes the eulogizing, dear?

Gah. I completely forgot again that capitalized-first-letter chapter names don’t mean KANAYA is saying them. That probably makes a lot more sense out of my wondering about the chapter title earlier to those of you who didn’t realize I was making that mistake.

JANE: It turns out that it's mighty difficult to find touching things to say about a person, the relationship with whom was predicated on deep-seated mutual loathing.

Hah!

--A loathing you regarded as largely more important to you than Jake ever was, by the way. You asshole.

JANE: I imagine this is one of the reasons no funerary tradition was ever established on Alternia, besides the barbarism of their culture. DIRK: Jesus christ. JANE: Not only did a significant proportion of their interpersonality depend on romance in the form of hatred, but it was a society based on cruelty and violence. JANE: What reason could they have had to provide for the dead? JANE: What kind of last rites could they have even imagined?

I wondered for a moment why (bg!)Dirk of all people would react to a single line of her starting to bring up prejudices, but then I realized that (1) Brain Ghost Dirk is a little more Jakey, and (2) Dirk knew that more ranting would follow the first line.

JANE: I can't think of anything good to write about him because deep down, I hated his guts. JANE: But he was and is beloved of the multitude, so I have to think of something regardless. JAKE: Im not sure i understand. JANE: Don't worry your pretty little head about it. JANE: This is politics, Jakey. JANE: Lying through your two front teeth about people you hate is about as good a definition as it's possible to get. JANE: But, by gum, is it tiring work.

Mm. It’s a position Jane put herself in, but it’s still a legitimate position once you’re there.

JANE: The funeral is tomorrow, after all.

Got it.

DIRK: Dude, the bowl. JAKE: Hm? JAKE: Oh, right. JANE: What is it now, Jake. JAKE: I brought something for our guest as well. JANE: You mean the prisoner. JAKE: Y...es.

Wait, bowl?

Oh god damnit which of you had the idea to feed her with a DOG BOWL. Either of you could have thought of it, and either of you would be horrible for it.

> (==>)

Huh, that outfit on Yiffy looks familiar, like a reference to something. And a black tail? This definitely isn’t quite the look I was expecting from Jade Plus Rose, but I suppose the snazzy tie is a Roseish vibe. Also reminiscent of Jade’s old Dead Shuffle dress. Formal wear and soccer cleats??

JANE: She's over in the corner. JANE: Don't worry, she won't bite. JANE: I've seen to that already.

WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN. I don’t see anything over her mouth! Did she stick something in it, or drug her? File her fucking teeth???

I mean I did forget the Child Abuse trigger warning to be fair. Hoping whatever would be on her mouth is just not shown in-panel yet for stylistic reasons.

> (==>)

JAKE: Its only mac and cheese, sorry. JAKE: Its all I know how to make, haha. JAKE: ... JAKE: I um... hope you can safely partake of cheese? JAKE: ... JAKE: Well, JAKE: Bon appetit.

How the fuck did Jake eat on his island then? --Oh right, preserved food cans that Grandma Jade stored up, I think I remember. Why would cheese not be a thing for them, if it’s fine for Jade? I know he’s probably not just worried about lactose intolerance.

Either way, if she’s drugged here, that’ll mean we won’t get a good idea of her for a while, so which is it...

> (==>)

DIRK: Bon appetit. DIRK: Seriously dude? JAKE: (What? Did i pronounce it wrong?) DIRK: Jake. DIRK: You put the food in a fucking dog bowl. JAKE: (It was all there was, ok???) JAKE: (I feel awful enough as it is without you getting on my case about it.)

Ah, missed the bone pun. AND, yeah, Jake, you’re a fucking idiot, you could have put it in a cup or something.

JAKE: (So far ive yet to see anything come of that brilliant plan of yours.) JAKE: (Are you sure sending that message to the others was enough?)

Okay, so he IS coordinating this slightly.

> (==>)

Horrifying image to contemplate, eh Jane?

Or anger-inducing?

> (==>)

Seems about right!

> (==>)

Oh that’s a GREAT exasperated Jane face.

JANE: I hope you're not expecting dessert, young lady.

I like how Jane didn’t notice, comment on, or care about the bowl. How can you hate a kid so much??

> (==>)

Oh I know why I felt like I recognized the outfit style, it’s because it’s ANIME AS FUCK. Feels like some Persona 4 Arena nonsense, and I say that not having played any of those games or even remembering what they looked like. Also, white hair, black fur’d dog parts? Nice change of pace.

YIFFY: GRRRRRRRRR... JANE: Oh no you don't.

Red text? What color exactly... “#D00009”? Huh. That’s nowhere near Alt-Callie’s #FF0000, and darker than Dave’s #E00707. In fact, let me go back and check those spilled color pins the commentary pointed out from an update or two ago... no, the red pin is #E63225, closer to Dave’s color. (Also, is Yiffy blocking the doorway out? That’s a pretty slack chain then.)

Did Jane see to it that she wouldn’t bite with like, a water spray bottle?

(EDIT: Oh my FUCKING GOD, THAT's why it's #D00009...)

> (==>)

FUCK I didn’t notice the shock collar in the Yiffy image! FUCK YOU, Jane.

> (==>)

Keeping someone in line with collars, especially ones that punish whenever one strays out of line, has always been a decent way for her to mix in some Doomy control of others to show how she’s “grown” to balance her main role and her Tiara-controlled-like inverse for more power. Doom in part represents boundaries that you can’t cross without getting hurt or punished.

> (==>)

FUCK, those little buck teeth!? D’:

JANE: That's more like it.

She HAS to have more of a reason for hating her than hating her parents, right? Like, more than that and general racism applying to partdogfolk?

> (==>)

Hey fuck off with that!

> (==>)

This is a pretty cool ima-- are those piercings on her dog ear? I didn’t notice that in the first shot, neat.

JANE: You've been a thorn in my side ever since I agreed to enroll you at the academy, little madam. JANE: Back then, I was doing a favor for two old friends who made a disgusting mistake. JANE: I'm no longer going to play nice with you just because of your parents, however. JANE: That truce is over. JANE: Do I make myself understood?

What the fuck? WHY would you do that? Why does Jane run "Ms. Paint’s Home for Inconvenient Girls”? What did Yiffy do to piss her off so much there, how much trouble could she have caused?

I don’t know if she’s referring to the behind-Kanaya’s-back part as disgusting or she’s just being MORE racist.

> (==>)

JANE: We don't want you passing out during the ceremony, do we?

Oh, just showing the hostage off during the clown funeral, huh? Classy much?

> (==>)

JANE: Now, be a good hostage and get some rest, Yiffany dear. JANE: We've got a big day tomorrow.

For a politician, Jane’s not good at looking at herself in a mirror.

> (==>)

JANE: Night night. JANE: Hoo hoo.

> (Yiffy: Lights out.)

Huh, dream stuff is gonna be relevant out in Candy then? *click*

Okay, dark background all of a sudden. Properly dramatic? You even have to highlight the non-link “>” part of the Next link to see it.

> (==>)

-- thespiansGlamor [TG] began pestering adamantGriftress [AG] --

Well, I don’t know WHY it’s happening, but the white-backed pesterlog suddenly on the dark site framing is certainly evocative. Of like, a mood, or something.

TG: i thought he was pretty quiet down there. TG: we'll make a rebel of him yet! AG: Lol. AG: I think it's more that he can't sleep. AG: I know how he feels. TG: yeah. TG: today was a lot. AG: ... TG: do you wanna talk about it? AG: Ugh, not you as well.

It’s really jarring to transition between Homestuck’s “kids jarringly mentally resistant to freaking out about the end of the world” to HS^2′s more realistic “kids traumatized by their first firefight even though it was an overwhelming victory-escape”.

TG: but seriously, do you? AG: Not really. TG: not even about... you know? TG: her? AG: No. TG: ... are you sure? AG: A8solutely. AG: What are you, my moirail? AG: Just leave it, Harry. TG: ok.

Are they about to have an “I wonder what Yiffy’s like” talk?

> (==>)

Very similar Tav/Vrissy convo to the previous one.

GG: I havent ever shared a bedroom before,,, GG: Not even for a slumber party,,, AG: Tavvy, you are just a8out the saddest person I've ever met.

Well, we have an even better idea how horrible Jane can be with kids, now. From Nanna to THIS is quite jarring. I wonder how the double Nannasprites that must still be around here somewhere feel?

> (==>)

TG: nothing about my dad is cute. TG: what are you even saying. AG: Lmao. TG: seriously! TG: i think he has something against that word, even. he gets super weird about it. AG: He's a strange and funny m8n. TG: yeah. TG: ... TG: i think something bad must have happened.

...um. What? Why would John have some sort of trauma about the word cute or being called it?

Did John dress up as a hint of his buried June ambitions as a kid and Dad lavish him with “SO CUTE” praise in an epic supportiveness backfire that caused him to shelve the idea of wearing non-masc clothes and being happier on the flipside of gender ever again??? Because if that’s how June gets canonized as promised, it’s a little harsher than the back of my mind was hoping. I guess it kind of had to be though from the premise of how it was read into his childhood for the original idea, though. Fuck, I hope this Cute business is about something different from that (like a Terezi reference or such) just to get less John Sads. (But still June. Definitely still want to get June.)

> (==>)

Oh, and now Vrissy is doing nothing but talking about what she said she didn’t want to talk about, of course. (Also I like how JANE’s now being called the Batterwitch.)

AG: And the worst part was they didn't even fight a8out it! AG: That made me madder than 8nything else. AG: It felt like I was the only person who even W8S mad! GG: I dont think thats true,,, AG: What would you know a8out it?! GG: Maybe nothing,,, GG: Sorry,,, GG: Its just,,, GG: To me,,, all the way through the conversation,,, aunt kanaya looked even angrier than you,,, AG: ... AG: Adults are so fucking weird.

Guh, I don’t want to be reminded how hurt a good chunk of the fanbase is by Kanaya getting hurt this badly.

Original Tavros was always SLIGHTLY perceptive of others sometimes, but maybe perceptiveness is being hinted at as a Tavros specialty? We still don’t know his classpect/hero-title or have any firm guesses based on purely him evidence. (Also, frightened kids of abusive households tend to learn to get perceptive pretty fucking quickly I hear.)

> (==>)

TG: dad was sitting in the cafeteria with aunt jade and your moms. TG: it looked like they were discussing something important... they were whispering and stuff.

[etc etc] Alright, the what-happened-to-Dave bit. And I imagine they’re kind of helping John grieve there, since Rose and Jade have talked that out already.

TG: aunt kanaya's was the only face i could see. TG: she was standing next to them, but she wasn't looking at what was going on. TG: almost like she couldn't bear to. AG: I doubt it. Kanaya's got a8out as much Emotivity as a very reclusive stone. TG: ok, i think that is bullshit but whatever. TG: she saw me standing there, but didn't say anything. she just shook her head slightly, and pointed back out into the hallway i came down.

Yep, giving them some space to grieve. Also-- gosh, shouldn’t Vrissy have the same emotive senses that Aranea implied Vriska shared with her? Kanaya isn’t that EXPRESSIVE but she’s certainly full of emotion. Also, I hope part of her not bearing to watch wasn’t lingering anger toward Jade and Rose mixing with that, but there probably was a bit of that too, though Dave being gone is so much harsher than that. --I just realized they might not have broken the news to Karkat yet, either.

AG: I guesadxcxzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz TG: vrissy?

Put to sleep by someone slumping down on your phone keypad, or surprised by something about the other conversation?

Oh shit, “other conversation” reminded me I didn’t look at Tavros’s chumhandle:

glutinousGymnast [GG]

HHHHHhhhhuh. Hm... huh? hhhh. huh? what, but. Why would. ?????

I really don’t understand what that chumhandle or any of its entendres should signify in this context.

Also, this means for our new four kids we have TG, GG, AG, and ??.

> (==>)

GG: I think she might have succumbed to sleep quite suddenly,,, GG: It would explain the,,,,,, interesting messages I've been getting for a while,,, TG: hehe. TG: i guess that tracks. TG: she does that from time to time.

That’s... strange. Homestuck’s taught us to be suspicious of that.

TG: ... TG: tav? GG: Yes,,, harry anderson,,,? TG: what does it feel like to know someone who's died?

Who is Harry referring to? (EDIT: Yes I know Gamzee for Tavros, but I meant Harry talks like he's worried he'll have to feel that way soon?) Is he just kind of inferring that something bad might have happened to Uncle Dave? Got that perceptive “parents are about to tell me about a death in the family” vibe? Or did he overhear more than he let on to Vrissy?

...alright, that’s the last page of this update. Looks like this chapter is going to continue to have a good bunch of grieving, or talk around it.

---

Now for Bonus Commentary for A Threat, Sensed. For some reason I have a dim memory of like... reading this myself without commenting on it? Or skimming it? But I’m pretty sure I didn’t do that. Weird. Must have imagined doing it.

Ah, I think I saw the opening paragraph scrolling Patreon, and my mind kinda filled in the blanks, this is still looking new to me.

Okay, mostly banter and japes in the commentary here. About Dirk “throwing a huge tantrum in his philosophy cave”.

We’ve had quite a bit of speculation on whether this is “really” Andrew. To that, I think we’d say that it doesn’t “really” matter.

Really? That was speculated about? :/

Here we discover that Dirk has not, as some people have speculated, been directly intervening into the Candy timeline, or influencing it in any way. In fact, he has a very hard time seeing anything going on there at all.

Mhmm, and that was a pretty important thing to learn.

A couple of years ago I might have agreed with the take that everything happening in Candy is simply too outlandish to ever happen naturally, without direct, villainous interference, but that was before literally every fucking batshit insane thing that has happened on Real Life Earth started going down, and now I will believe literally anything.

This is a nice bit of distraction from the idea that at least the opening parts of the Candy story were written/narrated by Original, Alive Calliope over on meat side. To refresh your memory of what was pointed out to me:

ROXY: back when jade first got all effed up callie saw somethin and it made them freak out ROXY: it took me weeks to convince them that it was safe to come home ROXY: but now we got the opposite problem and they arent leavin the house at all ROXY: they stay home all day with the blinds drawn paintin some weird ass shit on the walls TEREZI: WH4T? ROXY: its not as bad as it sounds i promise ROXY: some of it is like ROXY: weird and violent?? ROXY: like lotsa nasty purple blood and um ROXY: nudity???? TEREZI: >:? ROXY: yeah yikes ROXY: but MOST of it is cute stuff like... various combos of all of us being happy and gettin married and shit ROXY: anyway thats kept callie kinda busy

Which tracks with the initial out-of-character-seemingness of almost everyone at the start of Candy, and how they kind of tried to railroad things back onto the “Happy??” track after Dirk derailed it with his weird self-accumulation suicide, along with some of the flowery-idyllic descriptions of characters seeing each other bathed in a halo of light and such.

Of course, they’re not going to out-and-out STATE that Calliope was at fault for that narration, helping the Candy story not necessarily fall out the way it did “naturally”, until we finally get a glimpse of her on the heroes’ ship in Meat probably still painting the continuing Candy events, inspiring them into the void of the singularity with her latent powers. Til then, it’s a bit of misdirection whenever the topic is to be brought up. Along with a mix of Roxy’s late-Candy point to John of more or less “why COULDN’T we have done this naturally? you don’t know”.

He might even think that he has more direct power over the narrative than Hussie does himself. Surprise, motherfucker, you are a fictional character.

I’ll quote this next part in full:

There’s been talk of whether or not this bonus was written in the two days between its release and the Yiffy reveal chapter. The answer is--no. It was written over a month ago. But I think the things it addresses were not difficult to suss out. Obviously, Dirk is highlighting the issues that the readership are having with Yiffy, in his typical Dirk fashion. If it seems a little defensive, well...I suppose it is. Yiffy is one of the two hard lines drawn in the sand, and all of us love her, and we’re hoping that everyone else will love her too. But more than that, it focuses on the fact that update culture has a rhythm to it--shock, revulsion, acceptance (or not), and then excitement (or not). Will it follow that pattern this time? Who knows. I guess we’ll find out.

Yeah, given what was going to be dropped on us I expected they would have had exactly this lined up, especially because Andrew specifically mandated Yiffy. --I wonder why they aren’t mentioning that somewhere in the commentary and only on one of their Twitters?

Also quoting this:

There’s something both incredibly “cringe” and self-indulgent, as well as philosophically intriguing, about the author arguing with his villain, especially since he’s writing both halves of the conversation himself. You are, for all intents and purposes, trying to solve a problem that you have created for yourself. You are looking an aspect of your personality in the eye and asking, hey, what the fuck, man?

But in the end, isn’t that what every story is? Trying to untie knots that you put in the rope yourself?

Since it’s part of the central struggle of this story, and kind of the question Andrew’s tried to imply with every Homestuck work about what right we have to keep these characters trapped in a story, and if they’d be better off escaping it.

I’m really trying to avoid quoting so much of this, since the commentary is paid... but I think we can make an exception here? I’ll have only quoted about half of it; just, the really plot-important half. Plus, I left out a LOOOT of japes.

Dirk has a certain idea of how stories are supposed to go. That’s pretty much what the Epilogues is about. The audience also has a certain expectation of how a story is supposed to go. In a way, the Epilogues were also about that. They were taking a story that had reached the traditionally “acceptable” happily ever after, and saying, wait, no. What happens next? Thinking past happily ever after in any story is a terrifying prospect. Once Cinderella marries the prince, what then? Sure, she got what she wanted, but who knows that it will be everything she dreamt it would? What if she changes her mind, if not today, what about ten years from now? What if the prince dies of malaria?

And I’m...

Yeah I don’t have anything else to add here, I’m kind of out of brain juice to think about this tonight. BUSY day I had. Y’all take care!

#Homestuck #hs2 #Homestuck Liveblog #upd8 #Homestuck^2 #bladekindeyewear #blastyoboots #spoiler #spoilers #Homestuck Commentary

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departeddestiny · 6 years ago

Text

Pronunciation: Coo-Ra-Sa Or-L

Nickname: Has None.

Age: 31.

Nameday: 4th Sun of the 2nd Umbral Moon.

Race: Au Ra, Xaela.

Gender: Male.

Sexuality: Pansexual.

Marital: Single.

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

Hair: Medium in length and Umber, it is parted in a way so that the thick of it falls to the right. Strands stick up here and there, it might be considered disheveled; this is done purposefully, as time is precious. It is silken to the touch.

Eyes: Burnt Orange optics with slitted pupils, much reminiscent of the dragon’s from which he is descended. Black stains the sclera where white would typically be seen.

Height: 7 Fulm, 2 Ilm ( 7′ 2″ )

Physique: Large biceps, chiseled pecs and abs. The Xaela is built from his constant efforts to remain in top shape, especially so since most of his Gil is gained protecting others or from chasing after bounties.

Dominant Hand: Right.

Posture: He tends to stand up straight and rigid, some would consider him to have a ‘stick up his ass’.

Scars: They litter his body, telling a story of a warrior. The largest one is jagged and runs along his left pectoral, stops just above his abdominal muscles.

Distinguishing Features: Unlike most Xaela, where obsidian scales would normally be present, his are cracked and flowing with lava. They are hot to the touch, though not enough where they will burn.

Profession: Formerly a Dragoon for the Ishgardian Forces || Bounty Hunter and Sell Sword

Affiliation: None at present.

Languages: Eorzean, Doman, Xaelic.

Residence: Taverns strewn throughout Eorzea, predominantly in Ul’Dah

Birthplace: Doma, before it was razed by Garlean Forces.

Religion: None.

Parents: Tsuki Orl ( Mother, Deceased ) || Ryoma Orl ( Father, Deceased )

Siblings: Chiharu Orl ( Older Sister, Alive )

Pets: Draught Chocobo named Isaac

Hidden Amoung Shadows: There might have been a time when Kurasa wished to be seen, when he made a point to show his scales off and revel in the attention. Now, he tends to stick to the shadows or remains in his own company, oft wearing a hood to hide his features.

Flawed Moral Compass: While he may seem like any other person, Kurasa is quite capable of committing heinous acts; an example would be how he became a Dravanian Spy during the Dragonsong War. How many innocents died due to his actions? A thought that would haunt normal people, but Kurasa sleeps just fine.

Short Trigger: Perhaps it is the dragon blood that runs through his veins, perhaps he was simply borne that way, but Kurasa has an extremely short trigger when it comes to his temper. As he’s gotten older, he’s done his best to reign it in, but he will still beat heads if provoked enough.

Mistrusting to a Fault: Due to all that he has been through, Kurasa trusts none but himself. He has seen how quickly people turn on one another, how easily they come to assumptions. The man has seen the absolute worst of people and would rather not trust another to save his hide.

Are You Really That Smug?: Once his barriers have been breached, his smug attitude and belief in his own capabilities come to the surface. Kurasa knows that he is good looking, that he is good in battle and in bed, and he won’t let another tell him otherwise.

Frisky Under the Influence: Though not an every day occurrence, the man can often be seen in the corner of a tavern, pounding back the drinks...which probably garners more attention than it should. But with drink in his system, he becomes much more open and social, which leads to a new bed partner. But upon waking, he is his normal self, extremely ticked and grumpy despite just having got laid.

Sexual Orientation: Pansexual

Romantic Orientation: Panromantic ( monogamous ).

Preferred Emotional Role: submissive | dominant | switch | unsure

Preferred Sexual Role: submissive | dominant | switch | sex repulsed

Libido: Over-Active.

Turn On’s: Thoughtful || Witty || Good with a Sword || Sarcastic || Hard to Get

Turn Off’s: Clingy || Selfish || Overly Cruel ( there is a line ) || Debauchee ( he’s not into romancing someone who is all too willing to sleep with him )

Love Language: Time Spent Alone || Physical Touches || Protective

Relationship Tendencies: Due to his mistrust, Kurasa would do his best to avoid the person all together; they would have to be stubborn and continually come around in order for him to open up. Eventually, the Xaela will begin to open up, once he sees they are not there to cause him harm and they accept him for who he has become. Will become a protector, a shadow that looks over them and ensures their safety. Once he loves, he will love them alone.

Hobbies: Sword Play, Training, Climbing Waterfalls, Reading, Drinking ( Tea and Alcohol ), Eating, Listening to Music, Wandering.

Likes: Cold climates, Animals, Waterfalls, Teas, Rain, Various Shades of Black, Cooking, Fighting, Flowers, Mountains, Fire, Gil.

Dislikes: Small Spaces, Long Conversations, Threats, Blood Stained Clothes, Garleans and Ishgardians.

Fears: His Sister Dying, Being Vulnerable, Drowning.

Positive Personality Traits: Loyal, Passionate and Battle Hardened.

Negative Personality Traits: Cynical, Sarcastic and Violent.

Sword for Hire: Or more specifically, a glaive. Kurasa will do just about anything to put Gil into his pocket; in regards to killing or protecting, that is. But unless the person has won his loyalty, there is a chance he’ll turn on them in favor of a higher counter offer.

Blood of the Dragon: The Orl Clan was persecuted and primarily killed off because the Ishgardians believed them to be in line with their dragon ancestors: one look at Kurasa and, although not proven, one might think he truly did descend from the creatures. Cracked obsidian scales that flow with lava, slitted eyes, and fanged teeth. He portrays an intimidating picture.

Battle Hardened Warrior: Kurasa is the epitome of a person that has been hardened by battle, and by fate. There could be no better person to fight at your side, as he is skilled in not only his glaive but a multitude of other weapons. He’s one of the first to rush into the fray and it’s quite hard to take him down.

Lover of Tea: When the Xaela is able, he enjoys being able to sit down with a steaming cup of tea and let the days troubles wash from his person. It’s strange to see him do so and often, he’ll get looks of confusion when ordering, but who gives a shit?

A Slight Alcoholic: Then there is the opposite of the tea love, which is his need to drown his emotions in alcohol. Unfortunately when Kurasa drinks enough, he becomes a very open and affectionate person, which oft leads to him waking up with another in his bed.

Nature Lover: The best way he found to keep his body in shape, is to test his strength against what nature has to offer. Climbing cliffs and waterfalls gives the Xaela a full body work out and when he is done, he can sit amoungst the flowers and animals, and relax. There is nothing quite like feeling the sun beat down and the cool breeze against sweat stained skin.

Please be advised, this blog contains mature content that is not suitable for those under the age of 21.

I Roleplay: Pretty much anything! Subjects such as kidnappings, torture ( there is a fine line to tread ), and romance are acceptable but only when previously discussed and both parties are willing to participate.

I do not roleplay: Permanent character death, rape plots, polygamous relationships, god-modding, power-playing, and ERP. I am simply not interested in any of these, it is not meant as a personal insult.

Please feel free to approach! I love to create stories. That is what roleplay is about, no? If you can somehow see your character fit into Kurasa’s life in some fashion, I am all ears. You’re welcome to message me, even if I do not follow you, and I will do my best to respond!

Please don’t take information from me. While I did not write the events that his story is heavily based upon, Kurasa is of my own creation and I have worked very hard on him.

I am a shy bean who is just starting out with this character - he demanded I tell his story and that is the purpose of all this.

I am not my character. Kurasa does things of his own volition and although I might say something, that does not dictate his actions in the slightest.

In Game: Kurasa Orl

World: Mateus ( Crystal Data Center )

Discord: Given upon request.

Style: I’m a multi-paragraph writer, though sometimes I will write more or less depending on what I am going to work with.

#|| -- Letter Written in Blood: Roleplay #|| -- The Truth Revealed: Headcanon #( Looking For Roleplay )#( Character Profile )#FFXIV #LFRP CRYSTAL #LFRP BALMUNG #Mateus #Mateus rp

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saintmeghanmarkle · 3 months ago

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New York Magazine: Meghan Markles As Ever Is Selling an Identity Crisis by u/Solid-Parsnip7741

New York Magazine: Meghan Markle’s As Ever Is Selling an Identity Crisis Archived link: https://ift.tt/5nWSX08 takedown of MeMe's out of touchness from New York Magazine! LoLEach product page includes an item description and several of Meghan’s “Tips for Enjoyment.” These ping-ponged between insultingly basic and depressingly out of reach...Meghan felt the need to explain (twice!) that tea is prepared by steeping bags in hot water, resulting in a flavorful beverage that can be enjoyed at midday or by a fire. It felt a tad insulting.I’ve consumed a lot of Martha Stewart content and tons of amateur cooking videos on TikTok. I’m fine either way, I just need the Duchess to tell me what she’s going for. When Martha tells me I can make a soufflé as perfect as hers, we both know it’s just a fantasy, and that’s okay. If Meghan truly believes I can replicate her lifestyle because we’re both normal 40-something working women with slightly above-average crafting skills, that’s fine too. What’s stressing me out is Meghan wavering between acting like I’ve never made tea and assuming I regularly throw together Champagne-honey vinaigrette for my ladies’ lunches:Perhaps it’s not fair to expect Meghan Markle to have a consistent brand identity. Some days I eat fresh-baked muffins with fancy jams, but most mornings I cook my breakfast in the microwave. Hey, maybe “flower sprinkles” would make my Jimmy Dean Delights frozen egg sandwich more joyful! Don’t put me or Meghan in a box! Unless, as Meghan recommended earlier this week, you’re using her jam’s “keepsake packaging” as a “time capsule” to “remember this pivotal moment with me.” For $14, that jam box better contain multitudes. post link: https://ift.tt/ofY2iCK author: Solid-Parsnip7741 submitted: April 03, 2025 at 09:12PM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit disclaimer: all views + opinions expressed by the author of this post, as well as any comments and reblogs, are solely the author's own; they do not necessarily reflect the views of the administrator of this Tumblr blog. For entertainment only.

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bluehhj · 6 years ago

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listen to me — chapter 47

LISTEN TO ME — 0047

listen to me masterlist;

WORDS: 1.8K

Just before nightfall, as the sun was casting its last orange rays over the city, Yoorim and Woojin returned to the hospital. This time the reception was full, which resulted in more work for the nurses behind the reception desk. Luckily, they didn't have to stand in line to ask about Jinah and Jisung — although Chan had been spending all afternoon sending very detailed messages to the group they created in the messaging app —, as Seungmin was finishing talking to a lady, probably going over a diagnosis, and, when she said goodbye, he soon approached the pair.

"Shouldn't you be gone now?" Woojin asked and Yoorim watched the intern's tired expression, who didn't seem to have the slightest intention of taking off his coat and going to rest.

"It's fifteen minutes before my shift is over," Seungmin pointed out, laughing softly. He might as well pretend to be busy and idle until he could leave the hospital, as Woojin suggested, but his sense of responsibility wasn't that foldable. "If even Chan hyung, who should have left at four, is still here, why am I going to stop working while I still can?

"Woojin has to stop thinking that everyone is uncompromised just like him," pinned Yoorim. The oldest of the three was so used to having similar adjectives attributed to him that he didn't care. "But anyway..." her hands seeped into the pockets of her dark sweatshirt, cold. Although spring was approaching, the cold of winter was still bothering a lot. "Is Jisung feeling better or is he still the same?"

Seungmin bit his lower lip uncertainly. "You better see yourselves."

Personally speaking, Woojin hated hospitals and avoided them as much as possible. He thought everything smelled of alcohol and medicine and he also repudiated the strange feeling of sadness hanging in the air like a mist; so, many details of the corridors Seungmin led them through purposely went unnoticed.

"Nobody said anything else about Jinah?" he asked as they entered the elevator. Woojin had no idea how half of the university already knew what had happened, and that worried him. The way the news was spreading was completely distorted from the original, and even he, being gossip most of the time, was careful not to say anything that could be interpreted even more erroneously.

"She's still the same," Seungmin said ruefully. "Looks like her parents will arrive today."

Yoorim never understood what it was like to feel genuine parent-child concern, but she could imagine how sad and desolate Choi's parents were at that moment. Though she didn't quite understand love, either, she could put herself in their shoes and think about what it would be like to see her father or Hyunjin in a situation similar to Jinah's, and only the distorted image caused her an agonized uneasiness in her chest that extend all the way to Jisung's room.

Seungmin opened the door carefully, and just like the other two times, Han showed no interest in looking up from his own legs wrapped in a blanket. Jisung's expression remained indifferent and all his actions were almost as slow as the serum dripping into his veins.

"So far he hasn't spoken to anyone but Hyoyeon, and that was before he knew about Jinah," Seungmin whispered. "You can try, but I don't know if it's going to do much good."

Yoorim stepped forward and nodded to Chan, only then noticing that he was there with a college book on his lap. Then she stopped at a comfortable distance from the bed and reached for a chocolate on the empty nightstand. "You can eat when you feel like it," she offered, aware that it must be bad to settle for the dull hospital food alone. "It's your favorite."

If Jisung liked it, he didn't make a point of moving a muscle to demonstrate. Yoorim wasn't upset about that. She had known Han long enough to understand his way of dealing with pain. As when breaking his engagement with Chaerin, for example, Jisung closed himself and arrogantly dismissed anyone who tried to approach. Here, however, everything was so exponentially stronger that he could not even utter any cursing whatsoever, and that was what really worried Yoorim. Suffering in silence was synonymous with drowning in your own ocean, alone.

"I suck at giving advice, you know that..." Woojin began, serious as it rarely happened. "But I think you have to think positive... According to my general knowledge of our friendship contract, I imagine you have already blamed yourself and been desperate because you're full of negative thoughts. And I also know that a coma is far from just a cold, but perhaps not as bad as it seems," he paused, checking Han's features to see if he was not accidentally making things worse, but Jisung remained neutral. "I can't tell you "relax, she'll wake up in a moment", because no one knows when this will happen, but nurturing the hope that everything will work out is much better than nurturing frustration in thinking it won't... Jinah needs you more than you need her, Sung. You have to be fine to help her out of this."

"I never thought I'd say that in my life, but I agree with Woojin" Chan got up from the couch and hugged the book to his chest. "Several studies point out that the line between consciousness and unconsciousness is thinner than you might think. I don't know if this is the case with Jinah, but there are people who go into a coma and still hear what others say and even respond in their own way. It's a way to help revitalize some damaged parts of the brain and it does very, very well."

"Don't interpret what we said as if we were trying to stop you from suffering, that's not it," added Yoorim. "You can and should suffer a lot, it is completely normal for that to happen, but giving up on believing is not an option, okay? Alright we don't even know what you are thinking right now and maybe the idea of giving up hasn't even gone through your head, but if this pessimism was there at some point, I ask you not to listen to it, oppa. It'll be all right and period."

Jisung didn't answer, but Seungmin noticed as he began to wiggle his fingers absently, perhaps pondering. The intern was still not comfortable enough to speak to Han as directly as his friends did, so he decided to just watch. After all, Seungmin was absolutely sure that Jisung didn't like him — and it wasn't as if he had no reason to do so, after all. Both approaching at the time of the accident didn't mean that the disagreements were set aside and now they were all friends. Seungmin couldn't forget that.

"Visiting hours have changed and I didn't know?" almost all eyes in the room turned to the door when a lady arrived with a white suitcase in her hands. She was clearly one of the hospital's most experienced nurses, and her smile was so tender it made others want to smile, too.

"It was my mistake, Mrs. Baek," Seungmin apologized, though the woman seemed to be just kidding.

"It's fine, dear," she waved a hand in the air, dismissing Kim's concern. Then she entered the room and left her briefcase next to the chocolate that Yoorim gave Jisung. "Only now I need to change this boy's bandages. By the way, weren't you two supposed to go home?" pointed to Chan and Seungmin. "Especially you, Chan. They said you could leave a long time ago."

"I'll be right out, just waiting for someone else to arrive," the future doctor replied, smiling small. "Be well, Jisung. You guys too."

Woojin and Yoorim returned the smile and Chan waved at the nurse before leaving. Seungmin also said goodbye quickly when he received a message from Chaerin, who would always pick him up at the end of the day, saying that she had arrived. The Canadian was going through the same dilemma as her boyfriend, and although worried, she didn't know if it would be good for Jisung to have her so close all of a sudden; so she was content only to ask and send positive thoughts to both Han and Jinah.

When Mrs. Baek opened the bag full of cotton, medicine bottles, bandages and a multitude of other products to make a good dressing, Yoorim chose to give Jisung more privacy, while Woojin didn't want to risk fainting if he saw blood, and so they went toward the waiting room on the floor, not far from the bedroom. Halfway through, Kim snapped his tongue in the roof of his mouth, and Heo knew he was about to ask something.

"What did you think?"

"He needs some time," Yoorim answered after a few seconds in silence. Woojin didn't need to be completely clear for anyone to understand that she was referring to the way Jisung was acting. "That took everyone by surprise, it really is a bit astonishing for anyone."

Woojin nodded and said nothing more about it. If he himself who had not even spent so much time with Jinah had been affected to the point that he could not even work without his mind often flooded with the same subject, then, Jisung must have been a complete mess.

The matter came to an end early when someone entered the waiting room with the speed of a rocket. Yoorim felt sick to realize that it was Yeji. It got worse as she grew closer, and Heo could feel the intensity of her angry glare, which, from so many people, was aimed solely at her.

"The analysis of the fingerprints found on the ring that caused part of the accident is now ready," she used her firmer tone of voice to emphasize each syllable, not even offering a good night before throwing the bomb. "They're all yours, Yoorim."

Woojin gasped as Yoorim went pale as a sheet of paper. Everything turned in Heo's head and she couldn't even express a reaction before Kim finally stopped coughing.

"What do you mean, you crazy?!" Woojin didn't take respect for authority very seriously when it came to Yeji, but, this time, she didn't care and just shoved a paperwork into Yoorim's chest.

"The evidence is there."

With trembling hands, the youngest of the three pushed the papers away from her chest and ran her teary eyes over the photos and paragraphs filled with relevant information contained in the sheets. The report proved that yes, the fingerprints were hers, but it made no sense! Millions of questions screamed in her mind, so deafening that she couldn't even tell them apart.

And without even letting her try to find herself in the confusion, Yeji, her voice dripping with camouflaged pride, pulled a pair of handcuffs out of her uniform pocket and finished announcing:

"Heo Yoorim, you are under arrest for attempted double murder."

a/n: first, I need to apologize. I should have posted yesterday, right? but well, yesterday there was a big rain and I ended up without internet all day, so that's why. but now here is another chapter for you guys!

and what pissed me off the most in the last chapter was the lack of depth in jisung's feelings, although it was planned long ago. it is my intention not to focus too much on everything he's feeling at the same time, because not even himself knows, and that is where there's the return of a character aka love of my life to try to help jisung. but anyway the description was horrible and I hated that ending.

in compensation, I liked today's chapter and this is a miracle!!!!!!! #protectheoyoorim

and well, don't forget that I love you guys so much, ok??? see you in the next chapter <3

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grayjing · 5 years ago

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Anarchist FAQ/What is Anarchism?/2.17<

Anarchist FAQ

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What is Anarchism?

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A.2.17 Aren't most people too stupid for a free society to work?

We are sorry to have to include this question in an anarchist FAQ, but we know that many political ideologies explicitly assume that ordinary people are too stupid to be able to manage their own lives and run society. All aspects of the capitalist political agenda, from Left to Right, contain people who make this claim. Be it Leninists, fascists, Fabians or Objectivists, it is assumed that only a select few are creative and intelligent and that these people should govern others. Usually, this elitism is masked by fine, flowing rhetoric about "freedom," "democracy" and other platitudes with which the ideologues attempt to dull people's critical thought by telling them want they want to hear.

It is, of course, also no surprise that those who believe in "natural" elites always class themselves at the top. We have yet to discover an "objectivist", for example, who considers themselves part of the great mass of "second-handers" (it is always amusing to hear people who simply parrot the ideas of Ayn Rand dismissing other people so!) or who will be a toilet cleaner in the unknown "ideal" of "real" capitalism. Everybody reading an elitist text will consider him or herself to be part of the "select few." It's "natural" in an elitist society to consider elites to be natural and yourself a potential member of one!

Examination of history shows that there is a basic elitist ideology which has been the essential rationalisation of all states and ruling classes since their emergence at the beginning of the Bronze Age ("if the legacy of domination had had any broader purpose than the support of hierarchical and class interests, it has been the attemp to exorcise the belief in public competence from social discourse itself." [Bookchin, The Ecology of Freedom, p. 206]). This ideology merely changes its outer garments, not its basic inner content over time.

During the Dark Ages, for example, it was coloured by Christianity, being adapted to the needs of the Church hierarchy. The most useful "divinely revealed" dogma to the priestly elite was "original sin": the notion that human beings are basically depraved and incompetent creatures who need "direction from above," with priests as the conveniently necessary mediators between ordinary humans and "God." The idea that average people are basically stupid and thus incapable of governing themselves is a carry over from this doctrine, a relic of the Dark Ages.

In reply to all those who claim that most people are "second-handers" or cannot develop anything more than "trade union consciousness," all we can say is that it is an absurdity that cannot withstand even a superficial look at history, particularly the labour movement. The creative powers of those struggling for freedom is often truly amazing, and if this intellectual power and inspiration is not seen in "normal" society, this is the clearest indictment possible of the deadening effects of hierarchy and the conformity produced by authority. (See also section B.1 for more on the effects of hierarchy). As Bob Black points outs:

"You are what you do. If you do boring, stupid, monotonous work, chances are you'll end up boring, stupid, and monotonous. Work is a much better explanation for the creeping cretinisation all around us than even such significant moronising mechanisms as television and education. People who are regimented all their lives, handed to work from school and bracketed by the family in the beginning and the nursing home in the end, are habituated to hierarchy and psychologically enslaved. Their aptitude for autonomy is so atrophied that their fear of freedom is among their few rationally grounded phobias. Their obedience training at work carries over into the families they start, thus reproducing the system in more ways than one, and into politics, culture and everything else. Once you drain the vitality from people at work, they'll likely submit to hierarchy and expertise in everything. They're used to it."—Bob Black, The Abolition of Work and other essays, pp. 21-2

Those who proclaim their "superiority" often do so out of fear that their authority and power will be destroyed once people free themselves from the debilitating hands of authority and come to realise that, in the words of Max Stirner, "the great are great only because we are on our knees. Let us rise"

As Emma Goldman remarks about women's equality, "[t]he extraordinary achievements of women in every walk of life have silenced forever the loose talk of women's inferiority. Those who still cling to this fetish do so because they hate nothing so much as to see their authority challenged. This is the characteristic of all authority, whether the master over his economic slaves or man over women. However, everywhere woman is escaping her cage, everywhere she is going ahead with free, large strides." [Vision on Fire, p. 256] The same comments are applicable, for example, to the very successful experiments in workers' self-management during the Spanish Revolution.

Then, of course, the notion that people are too stupid for anarchism to work also backfires on those who argue it. Take, for example, those who use this argument to advocate democratic government rather than anarchy. Democracy, as Luigi Galleani noted, means "acknowledging the right and the competence of the people to select their rulers." However, "whoever has the political competence to choose his [or her] own rulers is, by implication, also competent to do without them, especially when the causes of economic enmity are uprooted." [The End of Anarchism?, p. 37] Thus the argument for democracy against anarchism undermines itself, for "if you consider these worthy electors as unable to look after their own interests themselves, how is it that they know how to choose for themselves the shepherds who must guide them? And how will they be able to solve this problem of social alchemy, of producing the election of a genius from the votes of a mass of fools?" [Malatesta, Anarchy, pp. 53–4]

As for those who consider dictatorship as the solution to human stupidity, the question arises why are these dictators immune to this apparently universal human trait? And, as Malatesta noted, "who are the best? And who will recognise these qualities in them?" [Op. Cit., p. 53] If they impose themselves on the "stupid" masses, why assume they will not exploit and oppress the many for their own benefit? Or, for that matter, that they are any more intelligent than the masses? The history of dictatorial and monarchical government suggests a clear answer to those questions. A similar argument applies for other non-democratic systems, such as those based on limited suffrage. For example, the Lockean (i.e. classical liberal or right-wing libertarian) ideal of a state based on the rule of property owners is doomed to be little more than a regime which oppresses the majority to maintain the power and privilege of the wealthy few. Equally, the idea of near universal stupidity bar an elite of capitalists (the "objectivist" vision) implies a system somewhat less ideal than the perfect system presented in the literature. This is because most people would tolerate oppressive bosses who treat them as means to an end rather than an end in themselves. For how can you expect people to recognise and pursue their own self-interest if you consider them fundamentally as the "uncivilised hordes"? You cannot have it both ways and the "unknown ideal" of pure capitalism would be as grubby, oppressive and alienating as "actually existing" capitalism.

As such, anarchists are firmly convinced that arguments against anarchy based on the lack of ability of the mass of people are inherently self-contradictory (when not blatantly self-servicing). If people are too stupid for anarchism then they are too stupid for any system you care to mention. Ultimately, anarchists argue that such a perspective simply reflects the servile mentality produced by a hierarchical society rather than a genuine analysis of humanity and our history as a species. To quote Rousseau:

"when I see multitudes of entirely naked savages scorn European voluptuousness and endure hunger, fire, the sword, and death to preserve only their independence, I feel that it does not behove slaves to reason about freedom."—Rousseau, quoted by Noam Chomsky, Marxism, Anarchism, and Alternative Futures, p. 780

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iamthehousethatfloats · 6 years ago

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I smushed together Family and Holidays... SCROLDIE WEEK

This is set in my Hearts of Gold universe, and so as per usual it is FLUFF and ANGST galore. Della and Donald are both here, just accept it. It’s Christmas. And Scroldie week.

💖🎄🥂😭

Dickie and Goldie arrived at McDuck Manor on Christmas Eve. Goldie had been hesitant about coming so early, it was a little too close to ‘normal’ for her liking, but Scrooge had pulled out his trump card and she’d stood no chance.

‘When was the last time Dickie woke up on Christmas morning, surrounded by her family?’ Scrooge had asked, knowing exactly what he was doing, the sly bastard. ‘She’ll miss half the fun if you only get here at lunchtime.’

And so, as he knew she would, Goldie caved. Of course, the side benefit to this was that Scrooge got to wake up on Christmas morning with Goldie curled around him, mildly hungover from last night’s egg nog contest. He kissed her awake and she snuggled close to him, and their lazy lovemaking that morning was serenaded by a chorus of laughter and squeals of delight echoing from downstairs.

Goldie hadn’t expected presents. From Scrooge, maybe, he was sentimental like that, and maybe something small from Della and Donald, but she hadn’t anticipated the kids would have a gift for her, all wrapped up under their enormous tree.

She unwrapped the golden grappling hook, with its remarkably unsubtle rope of blue, green, red and pink, and went very quiet. Huey, Dewey, Louie and Webby piled on her in a candy fuelled group hug and she pretended to hate it as she tried not to cry.

Lena handed Scrooge and Beakley matching wrapped parcels, uncharacteristically shyly. Each contained a family photo, that Webby had insisted taking months before, and Lena had complained about at the time. There they all were, their strange, complicated little family. Scrooge and Goldie, Dickie and Lena, Huey, Dewey, Louie, Webby, Donald, Della, Launchpad and Mrs Beakley. Only Lena had photoshopped Goldie out of the one she gave Beakley, a fact which made both women laugh out loud.

Everyone gave Dickie a present. She could barely move for paper when she was done. A new lens for her camera, paint brushes and art supplies, boxes of hair dye, a new patchwork waistcoat, comic books and candy galore. Her grin was wide and her arms ached from the hugs she couldn’t help but dole out. Goldie watched it all with a soft smile on her face, and Scrooge threaded his fingers through hers and held her close.

As the morning went on, the kids few wilder still. All except Dickie. Once the rush of excitement had ebbed, her smile began to falter and she migrated to the sidelines while the younger kids played. Goldie noticed, of course, and when Dickie took a moment to slip out of the room, Goldie squeezed Scrooge’s arm and nodded in her direction, communicating silently before getting up to follow her.

She found her out in the hall, staring up at the framed painting of Scrooge, Donald and Della that hung in the place Goldie knew Dickie remembered another family portrait to be.

‘Dickie? You okay?’ Goldie asked, coming up behind her. The girl jumped, and wiped at her eyes. Goldie’s heart clenched just a little.

‘Oh sure Gigi, I’m fine.’ Dickie replied, her breezy tone sounding anything but. ‘I just got a little... emotional I guess. I never thought I’d see a holiday like this again, with family and everything. It’s just... almost too perfect. I mean I know it’s not... it’s different and that’s weird, but at the same time it’s sort of the same, you know?’

Goldie put her arm around her granddaughter.

‘Kiddo, if you’d told me a year ago that I’d be here in McDuck Manor on Christmas morning with you, and Scrooge and his ten thousand children, I’d have laughed you out of the room. I may not know exactly what you’re feeling right now, but the weird part? I’ve got that down.’

‘You know we don’t have to stay.’ Dickie said, immediately. ‘I don’t want you putting yourself through all this if it’s just for me. If it’s too weird for you we can go, we can just have a nice day, you and me.’

Goldie paused, weighing up the options. She didn’t believe Dickie wanted to leave, not really. She was having a wobble, and that was to be expected, but she was where she belonged, with her family at Christmas, and pretty soon her head would be turned again - but only if they stayed.

‘Oh sweetheart,’ Goldie sighed. ‘As much as I might like to deny it, I want to be here as much as you do. Honestly? Don’t tell your Grandpa, but this is the best Christmas I’ve ever had.’

That afternoon, while Mrs Beakley prepared dinner and the other adults took a much needed break from the merriment, Goldie took Dickie and the kids abseiling down the side of the Money Bin. Della joined in while Donald stood at the bottom with his head in his hands, ready to break whatever child’s fall he needed to.

Miraculously, they all survived, and Dickie waited until they made it home to tell Donald about the last time Goldie arranged such an activity.

After eating their weight in Christmas dinner, and falling asleep in front of the TV while the credits of Christmas on Bear Mountain rolled, the kids all dragged themselves up to bed.

Dickie woke around 2am, to the sounds of a ruckus from downstairs. Panic struck her at first, but then she recognised her grandmother’s wild laughter and crept out of bed to investigate.

She arrived to find an absolute scene of chaos in the living room.

Scrooge and Della were hunched over the coffee table, going hard at a snap game. Goldie and Beakley were cheering them on, several empty bottles of champagne at their feet.

Donald looked to be the only vaguely responsible adult present, and even he was swaying tipsily.

‘DICKIEEEEE!’ Goldie cried, spotting her suddenly. ‘Get over here, you miraculous miracle child, you!’

Dickie laughed and shuffled over to where her exceptionally drunk grandmother sat, and found herself immediately pulled into a clumsy hug.

‘Granddaughters are the greatest, eh Bentina? That’s what we were just saying. You’re the greatest. You and Webby, the greatest.’

‘Absolutely.’ Mrs Beakley nodded, sloshing her class of champagne over the carpet and paying it no mind. ‘Here’s to being Grandmothers!’

‘Grandmothers of wild, amazing granddaughters!’ Goldie cheered, and the two women clinked glasses. Dickie snorted with laughter and wished she had picked up her phone before coming downstairs. This was the kind of quality blackmail content she could use the whole year round.

‘SNAP!’ Scrooge yelled suddenly, as Della groaned and dropped her head on the table in defeat. ‘HAHA!’

‘You didn’t play fair, Uncle Scrooge,’ Della complained. ‘Half the time you called snap when there weren’t even two cards there!’

‘Poppycock,’ Scrooge dismissed. ‘I see two cards, I get the points. And really it was two against one... because there are two of you right now! Look at that, all those years with no Della’s and now we’ve got two of ye!’

‘Okaaaaaaay, I think it’s time for bed, adults,’ Dickie laughed, reaching out to grab hold of Scrooge before he fell over. He looked mightily surprised to see her, and delighted too. ‘You’re all going to regret this so much in the morning, hangovers last forever when you’re old you know.’

‘The cheek!’ Scrooge sputtered, while Goldie collapsed into giggles at the sight of his indignation. Dickie managed to get her grandparents to their feet and Donald managed the same with his sister. Mrs Beakley waved them away from her spot on the sofa, declaring she would absolutely be fine and would go to bed any minute. Dickie had no doubt whatsoever that she would still be on that couch in the morning.

She managed to get Scrooge and Goldie up the stairs safely, and thought it best to leave them to their own devices from there. After this much alcohol, and at this close proximity to a bedroom, Dickie knew better than to stay within hearing range. She kissed them both goodnight and wished them a Merry Christmas, and left them to it.

Back in her bedroom, Dickie settled in her bed and reached under her pillow for her sketch book.

She’d been working on her drawing, she was getting pretty good at it. Goldie had gotten her a tablet for Christmas, despite not knowing what the heck it was, and she couldn’t wait to start turning her scribbling sketches into digital art - she was taking a course next semester.

Until then though, she contented herself with her sketch book. She sat in bed, illuminated by the bright full moon, and flipped through the pages. She’d gotten quite good at Scrooge, and Goldie of course was no hardship. But there was one face it had taken her a while to get right. It scared her at first, how much she found her mother’s face fading in her own memory, but she had finally gotten it right. She lingered on the drawing of Dawson McDuck, her feathery white blonde hair and her crinkle of her eyes, her multitude of beaded necklaces and the tiny dream catcher earrings she always wore.

Dickie hadn’t shown her to her grandparents yet. She wanted to... but she’d wanted to get it exactly right first. Finally, she had. She would show them tomorrow, she thought to herself, and in a way, Dawson would then exist in this world too, if only in mind.

Dickie ran her fingers along the line of her mother’s beak, to where it drew up in the corners with just a hint of a smile.

‘Merry Christmas, Mom,’ Dickie murmured, smiling back. ‘I miss you. I miss you all, so much. But I need you to know that I’m okay. I’m with Grandpa and Gigi, and... I’m okay.’

Dickie laid back down in her bed, the drawing propped up against the wall so she could see it from her pillow.

‘Goodnight Mommy,’ she whispered, as sleep claimed her at last.

#scroldie #scroldie week #scrooge mcduck #goldie o'gilt #dickie duck #dawson mcduck #SORRY FOR THE ANGST #holidays #christmas #family #ducktales #hearts of gold #duck fiction

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kathrynmaslow · 7 years ago

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Love Lies 5/15

Summary: Ever since Emma was 13, she knew she had the ability to destroy people if she wanted to, and some days, she really wanted to. After being forced to go to Greenwood Academy following a traumatizing event in her childhood that brought to the surface her ability to manipulate fire, she never thought she would be free of the place. So for nearly 10 years, she lived a solitary existence with the exception of her best friends, but that was all about to change.

Killian Jones had just been sentenced to attend the university campus at Greenwood Academy after an accident at sea caused him to be dishonorably discharged from Her Majesty’s royal Navy and lose his hand. He doesn’t know what to think about these newfound powers and what they spell for the rest of his now not-so-normal life. But a chance encounter one day has the ability to change all of that.

A story about love and redemption between two people that shows, if you have the right person beside you, you can find a light in the darkness.

Rating: M Content Warnings: Mentions of Violence/Death, Brief mention of Childhood Abuse/Sexual Assault, Mild Sexual Content Chapter Notes: Chapter 5 is here folks! This is actually one of my favorite chapters in this entire work so I am excited for you to read it as well!

Check out the amazing art work that my artist @princesse-swan did for both chapter 3 on tumblr. Thanks again as always to my beta @daveyjacobsthepotterhead for taking this work and helping me turn it into something great. You are the literal best.

Read on FF

Catch up on Tumblr: One Two Three Four

Art by @princesse-swan here

Chapter 5 Emma sat down on the edge of the wall surrounding the plant beds at the entrance to campus from the dorms. Unwrapping her grilled cheese and tomato sandwich, she looked out at the rows of dorm buildings lining the main walk onto the academic campus.

The sidewalks were abandoned, with nary a soul on campus to be found. Many of the students went home during the fall break about halfway through the term, and Emma took advantage of some time just to herself that she didn’t have to spend in her room.

While she enjoyed time with her friends while they were on campus, she did enjoy having the campus pretty much to herself during the breaks where everyone who wasn’t high risk got to go home. If she remembered correctly, after Elsa moved into a community in Alaska last summer, there were about 17 other students that had a full run of the campus to themselves.

Losing Elsa as a friend had been hard. She had arrived at the academy after Emma had, and could have been considered her polar opposite in every way. While Emma burned hot, Elsa burned cold, with extensive gifts of ice and snow, she proved quite the challenge for the staff to contain, considering that she could freeze off her suppression gear and not be affected by them at all. She was someone that Emma could relate to, someone who could understand the beast that prowled beneath her skin, and losing that confidant last semester had been something that she truly hadn’t fully bounced back from yet.

Taking a bite out of her sandwich, Emma just sat and watched the leaves fall from the trees.

o.O.o

Killian didn’t know what to think about how quiet the campus had become once fall break had begun.

Yes, he had been told that all the students who weren’t high risk students would be allowed to visit home for the two weeks that classes were on break, but he hadn’t realized how truly empty the campus would feel.

He spent the first two days of the break wandering around campus to see who was around.

A few of the administration members were lingering around with the multitude of security officers watching the campus, but he had only run into a handful of other students.

There was one gentleman named Eric, who had the power to create storms out of thin air. He was a perfectly nice guy, but after living 6 years of his life on a boat, he decided not to trust anyone who could sink a ship on a whim.

Another woman named Cruella had the ability to control people with her voice. How they regulated that power, Killian couldn’t fathom, but it was probably for the best.

On the third day, it seemed as though he was in luck.

While wandering through the abandoned floors of the library, he stumbled upon Emma bent over another drawing book sketching.

Thankfully she didn’t have any headphones over her ears this time, so he didn’t have any chance of ruining her artwork, but he still made the effort to make a bit of noise against the door as he walked in.

Emma looked up at him in shock.

“Killian, what are you doing here?” She asked.

“Wandering through the library, but I don’t suppose that is what you meant by the question.” He stated. He had never mentioned to her that he was a high risk student before and Killian had to imagine that this was a bit of a shock.

“I am so sorry, that completely came out wrong. However, that was what I had meant by the poorly phrased question.” Emma said, tucking her hair behind her ear as she flushed in what Killian presumed was embarrassment.

“It’s fine Swan, truly. I know you didn’t mean anything horrible by the remark.”

“I am a bit curious though, what kind of powers do you have that make you a high risk student?” Emma said, pushing her notebook to the side and leaning towards him.

He caught a glance at the notebook as it turned towards him slightly, and he grasped at the chance to change the subject. He didn’t even like thinking about his powers, so he really didn’t want to talk about them with someone else.

“Emma, this is amazing.”

It was, truly. Drawn out on the page was the image of a woman, long black hair hanging over her shoulders, one bloody hand clutching a dagger to her chest and the other grasping a heart. There was no color to the design yet, but she had shaded in where the blood was likely soaked into the woman’s hair and dress. The entire thing was hauntingly beautiful.

“I know an attempt to distract me when I hear it.” Emma said.

“I wasn’t trying to distract you, I genuinely like your art.” He retorted.

“I also am pretty good at knowing when someone is lying to me. And while you do like peeking at my sketches, you were lying that this wasn’t a distraction.” Emma said, looking adorably smug when she said it.

He couldn’t help but smile in response. “Fine,” Killian said, rolling his eyes. “Maybe I was trying to get you off my tale, but I would prefer not to talk about this. It’s not something I am truly comfortable with and, while I do enjoy your company and think of you fondly like a friend, I don’t think this is something I can tell you about.”

Emma stared at him for a long moment before nodding her head.

“I can accept that, there are things about myself, and events that have happened to me that I don’t talk about to anyone else. I can understand needing time to process things that are traumatic before being able to open up to someone else.” She said.

“Since we aren’t talking about anything related to our powers or our past,” She said, pausing to look up at him meaningly. “Why don’t you tell me something that I probably wouldn’t know about you.” She said.

When Emma was smiling at him like that, He couldn’t deny her anything.

“I actually am a bit artistic myself. I do the occasional doodle.” Killian said.

Emma’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Really, I wasn’t expecting that.”

“There are a lot of things about me that you wouldn’t expect Swan.” He said, relishing the flush that spread across her face in response to his quirked eyebrow and tongue in cheek.

“Alright Killian, let’s see what you can do.” She said, pulling blank sheets from her book for the both of them and handing him a pencil.

“What do you want me to draw for you Love?” He asked, taking the pencil from her and working to move the paper into the position he wanted it in with his other wrist.

“Whatever inspires you right now.” She said.

He looked up into her bright green eyes and knew exactly what he wanted to draw.

“How long are you going to give me?” Killian asked.

“Let’s say, finish in an hour. Whatever you can finish by that point in time is what you’ve got.” Emma said.

“Challenge Accepted.” He said, turning to his work and beginning his attempt at replicating perfection.

o.O.o

Emma and Killian were spending the afternoon out in the courtyard between the college campus and the lower campus when they heard it.

Killian stopped mid-sentence in his retelling of how his brother got stuck by the back of his shorts in a tree when they were younger and cocked his head.

“Swan, does that sound like crying to you?” He asked.

Emma listened harder, facing further towards the lower campus where Killian was pointing towards. Sure enough, it did sound like someone was crying.

She stood, gesturing for Killian to follow, heading towards the lower campus.

Normally, students on the college campus were not allowed to venture onto the lower campus, but since it was a school break, students were allowed to roam the grounds as they pleased.

They walked past the first handful of buildings before they could finally locate the sound.

Curled into a ball between two of the buildings and crying into his hands was a boy with a mop of brown hair.

The young boy could have been no more than 12, which was incredibly young for someone to come to the academy.

But then again, Emma had arrived around that age as well.

Emma flashed back to one of her first days on the campus, reeling from being separated from her family and forced to move halfway across the country to a place she didn’t know and getting surrounded by people she was unfamiliar with.

She had also spent a few nights crying from the loss. The loss of her brother, the loss of her mother, the loss of the only home she had known.

The loss of her normal life.

She turned to see Killian watching her with a speculative gaze. She only shook her head at him.

Turning back to the little boy, she walked slowly towards him, since he still hadn’t noticed them standing there.

“Hey, are you okay?” She asked, crouching down in front of him.

The boy visibly started, looking up at her in surprise.

“What? Who are you?” He asked.

“My name is Emma, and this is Killian,” She said, gesturing behind her at Killian, who was still standing back from them at a good distance.

She noted that his blunt wrist was tucked behind his back.

“Are you okay?” She asked again.

The boy sniffled, nodding his head in agreement even though a few fat tears still escaped his eyes to fall down his cheeks.

“What’s your name?”

“Henry,” He said, sticking his hand out in greeting.

“Well Henry, it is a pleasure to meet you. When did you start your stay here?” Emma asked. He didn’t seem the type to be a new high risk student since he didn’t have any suppression items on that she could see, but you never know.

“My mom dropped me off this morning.” Henry said, sniffing loudly again, his lower lip quivering.

“Well, it sounds like you could use a friend, would you like to hang out with me and my friend for the rest of the day?” Emma asked.

Nodding his head, he stood up and fell into her extended arms.

He shook a little with quiet cries, and Emma rubbed his back in a soothing manner.

Killian came around in front of her, and placed his hand on the back of Henry’s shoulders and rubbed slow circles as well.

“You know Henry, I remember my first night that I spent away from all my family.” Killian said.

Henry pulled away from her slightly, turning to look at Killian.

“Really, I thought it was the most terrifying thing that could ever happen to me at the time.” Killian admitted. “Would you like to hear about it?”

“Is it a scary story?” Henry asked, standing fully away from Emma.

“Not really, it only seemed like it at the time. Why don’t you come for a walk with Emma and I, we had a lunch sitting out in the courtyard.” Killian stood, extending his gloved hand for Henry to take.

Emma smiled, watching Killian lead Henry towards their impromptu picnic sight, weaving an exaggerated story of a 20 year old man sleeping away from home for the first time, and crying himself to sleep.

Killian winked over his shoulder at her once he got Henry laughing at his story.

With that wink, Emma felt something she was pretty sure would grow into love start blooming under her breast.

o.O.o

Killian was walking around campus outside.

It was pretty close to the time he went to bed, but it was fixing to storm out, lightning streaking across the sky and thunder rolling in across the campus, and it made him restless.

The barrier surrounding the campus kept out all supposed threats against their safety, but unfortunately, couldn't prevent the rain from falling on them.

His thoughts were occupied with thoughts of Henry, that young lad they had found on campus earlier.

Emma had told Killian that he was a bit of an anomaly when he mentioned that his gifts had only just manifested at 25 years, but he didn’t know they could start showing that early.

The young lad hand only just turned 12 a few weeks ago, a fact the young lad had divulged to them while they were splitting ham and cheese sandwiches and cheetos in the middle of campus during the day.

He had something relatively minor as a gift, something that doesn’t require him to stay on campus during school breaks like him and Emma have to.

When they revealed that fact to the lad, it seemed to turn his entire spirit around, from sniffeling and sad to bright and chipper.

Almost a bit too bright, considering the lad started glowing on them.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he was pretty spooked when he heard a voice off to his left.

“Killian?”

He whirled around, and found Emma sitting on a low wall surrounding a garden in the yard.

“Emma, what are you doing out here?” he asked, tucking his hand into his pocket as he made his way over to her.

“I could ask you the same thing.” She said, watching as he came over and sat down next to her.

“Couldn’t sleep, decided to go for a bit of a walk.” He said, shrugging his shoulders a bit.

“Me neither.” Emma said, pulling one of her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around it, resting her chin on her knee.

“Yeah, but I couldn’t sleep because of the storms, I don’t think that was the case for you. What’s vexing you love?”

Emma turned to look at him, but once she noticed him looking at her, she turned her face away.

A flash of lightning across the sky lit up her face for a split second, and Killian could have sworn he saw tear tracks tracing down her cheeks.

It wasn’t until after the rumble of thunder rolled over campus a couple of seconds later that she began to talk.

“I started at the academy here when I was 13, not much older than Henry is. I guess seeing him today brought back some memories of when I first arrived here.”

“I can’t even imagine what that would have been like.” He said, when it became obvious that she wasn’t going to continue. It was so unlike her to open up about anything to him when it came to how she started at the academy, so he was going to have to take it as it came.

“It was lonely.” She said, still not looking at him.

Killian watched a few more bolts of lightning flash across the sky, the air becoming damp and oppressive as the storm continued its advance towards them.

Neither one of them made any move to leave and avoid getting poured on, but Killian wasn’t inclined to leave her alone.

He never could leave her like this.

“I lost everything. Henry gets to keep his family, he gets to go back to his mom, see his dad, and play with his brothers and sister. I got none of that.” She looked over to him, her eyes rimmed in red, and something in Killian’s chest tightened.

She had obviously been out here a while before he had happened upon her.

“My mother disowned me, my father was already long gone, and I haven’t seen my older brother, my best friend and partner in crime, in person in almost ten years. I didn’t get to see him get married and I didn’t get to see the birth of my niece. And it’s not fair.”

Something in her voice cracked when she said “fair”, and Killian wanted desperately to pull her into his arms and give her a hug, but she was so closed off that he didn’t think it would be well received.

At that moment, the heavens decided to open up and the rain came pouring down on the two of them.

Killian looked up at the sky, the rain hitting his face with wet plops that made water run into his eyes and he blinked rapidly to clear them.

Turning to look at Emma, he felt the rain continue to soak into his hair and shirt, and he wondered absently if it would ruin the mechanics in his glove getting them this wet.

Getting a good look at Emma for a second, he had to choke back on a laugh.

“What?” She said, hearing his choked off laugh and turning to face him after looking up at the storm clouds above them as well.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to laugh, truly love. But you’re steaming.” Indeed, little wiffs of steam were rising from where the rain was splattering down onto her bare skin.

He pressed his lips together in an effort to keep himself under some measure of control.

But it seemed to be in vain as a large smile broke out on her face, wiping away the lingering sadness in her expression from their conversation.

“Did I never mention that I may run a bit warmer than a normal person?” She said, chuckling a bit as she asked him.

“No, but that might be a useful thing, considering that I am now soaking wet and cold.” Killian laughed.

“Oh no you don’t, that is entirely your own fault.” Emma said, moving away as he leaned towards her, but it wasn’t in fear of him. No, she could tell he was playing with her.

“Come here and warm me up Emma!” He said, lunging after her.

She leapt off of the wall with stunning speed, darting across the yard in a blur of damp blond hair trailing behind her.

And as he chased her around, moving after her and sliding around in the mud enough to cause them both to burst into further hysterics, something warm bloomed up in his chest.

It felt like the first ray of sunshine after a storm, and he wanted to hold onto that feeling as long as he could.

Wrapping his arms around her from behind as they both went sliding through another patch of mud, Killian pulled her close as he tried to keep them both upright.

They were both laughing as he turned her around to look at him, her arms coming around him in turn.

Something in her expression changed, some of the laughter and lightness transitioning into something curious.

His eyebrows pinched together, getting ready to ask her what she was thinking about when Emma pushed up on her toes and pressed her lips to his.

It was like that first ray of sun, and when the seas are calm and the sky is blue, and that first bite of fresh summer fruit after a long, cold and dark winter.

Her lips were soft against his, and he pressed back, tightening his arms around her and forming his lips more firmly with hers.

They broke apart with a start when a peel of thunder began right above them.

She gave him a tentative smile, and took his hand. “Come on sailor, let’s get you out of the rain.”

o.O.o

The rain had fried some of the electronics in his glove, and he couldn’t move his fingers the next day, but he wouldn’t have changed that night for anything.

#csbb #2018 csbb #Love Lies #my writing #captian swan #emma swan #killian jones #Emma x Killian

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yuexuan · 7 years ago

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[Horikawa]Manifestation

Character: Horikawa-centric with mentions of other swords

Rating: G

Summary: Tsukumogamis manifests with different characters, but all of them had to go through the phase of getting used to a human body, Horikawa Kunihiro no less.

Folklore had it that tsukumogamis were tools which contained a spirit.

To attain a spirit was to acquire consciousness and awareness, the capability to feel, to think and at the most extreme: to arbitrate. This was not a quick process, however. Perhaps because tools were forged with materials made to last, time passed slightly different for them. They gained their self-awareness at a more gradual pace, picking up bits and pieces of knowledge and values along the way, sometimes at the span of hundreds - if not thousands of years.

At the very beginning, a tool simply remained what it was: a tool. Even with this newfound spirit, they simply exist. It was hard to explain, the circumstance of which was so unlike the human experience that it befuddles one to say that tsukumogamis exist not in the physical sense, but in some higher-up consciousness. Inasmuch as we don’t ponder whether the plants around us share the same experience given our inherent differences, so too tsukumogamis were different by their very being a lump of element.

Yet even plants respond to external stimuli, but an individual tsukumogami at the very start of being was incapable of responding at all. Nevertheless, they knew things by means inexplicable. They were quite aware of the happenings surrounding them, of the names gifted unto them, of their master’s purpose, and of their allies and enemies. Silently they participated in forging history and in turn, became part of the flow of history.

Horikawa Kunihiro, a mysterious sword whose history remained much debated, awoke again.

He had closed himself from the rest of the world for years, slowly fading away with the undercurrents at the bottom of the ocean. It was the best option, really. After all, the end of the sword era was drawing upon them and sinking to the fathomless depth was somehow less terrifying of a closure than the smith’s furnace or broken halves.

Do they even exist anymore when their steel body ceased to be?

Kunihiro didn’t know how long he had slept – if that was the right word for simply shutting oneself off – because time was meaningless in the whole scheme of things for a sword. All he knew was that something forcefully tugged him out of his slumber and he found himself tittering on solid ground.

Everything was spinning around him: color, light, shapes and forms, shifting and gyrating, jostling and pushing, all of them clamouring to gain his attention. Nothing remained in focus until he shut out the world again by closing his eyes.

One of the things that tool spirits lacked were the senses. To be suddenly confronted by the visual onslaught was overwhelming to say the least. Kunihiro reacted far better than most of the other swords when they first arrived, a notable example being one particular crane who’d surprise everyone by pretending dead.

Suffice to say the poor smith had the living daylights scared out of him and things almost ended badly. Almost. But that is a story for another day.

“There, there, all of us had to go through this stage.”

“Let him rest, he has come a long way.”

For the first time Kunihiro heard, and in the strange manner by which the spirits obtained their knowledge, he knew instinctively that this was sound and made sense of the words.

Someone picked him up, which only added to his dizziness as he swayed back and forth with the pace of whoever that was carrying him. He didn’t know where they were going, but instinctively trusted the friendly voices. Voices which came from spirits just like him – that much he could sense – so he trusted that they understood his circumstance and knew what best to do with him. And with that he lapsed back to the passive nature of swords when not wielded by a hand.

They passed by many winding hallways judging by the number of turns taken. The place was far bigger than any Shinsengumi abode that he knew of.

They also passed by many people, based on the greetings of delight at a newcomer.

Kunihiro kept his eyes shut tight throughout the whole journey. Not that he was trying to be rude by ignoring the greetings, but his mind was whirling to put two and two together. Only one thing was immediately discernible: this was neither the bottom of the ocean nor was he within his steel vessel. Instead, he had a human form: head, limbs, torso, the whole package. For all intents and purposes, he was a human…at least on the outside. He wasn’t quite sure about the inside. Humans were awfully complex on the inside. For one, they have their messy organs and blood which seemed to have a tendency to leave the body at whatever opening he made on the person.

But they were also more complex deep inside. Specifically, he was referring to the human emotions that rise and fall, that make a person, but also drive them to do insane feats that may very well end in their demise.

Up till now he had no idea why Hijikata went off to battle with nothing more than a wakizashi in hand. Kunihiro was fast, but clearly no match against rifle guns.

~oOo~

By and by Kunihiro was left in a room with his original body.

“Just rest until you’re feeling better, okay?” The voice disappeared, followed by the sound of shoji sliding close.

It took a while for Kunihiro to gather himself from dark thoughts, but eventually he managed to open his eyes. He laid on the ground after the fashion of swords, unmoving, and that was fine.

Or at least it was fine when he was merely a sword.

A sense of unease crept over him. Something was tingling, similar to when the fishes take little bites at him while he rested. Not that he had actually felt fish nips, but he imagined that that was what it felt like.

Kunihiro shifted onto his side in discomfort.

Then realized that he had moved on his own accord. And so he tried flipping over onto his other side.

To his delight, he moved again, except this time his hand slapped against his original body, sending sharp pains shooting down his current body.

The whole original and current body thing was downright confusing. Were they detached? Or one and the same? Surely, they were still connected somehow because he sensed the familiarity between the two bodies. Or maybe everything was a figment of his imagination and he was still down at the bottom of the ocean…but can sword spirits imagine something far beyond the realm of their own experience?

Kunihiro decided some thoughts were better left for a later time. For now, he could just focus on handling the current body.

It was harder said than done. Not too long ago he had literally only one body, no strange limbs sticking out, each demanding their own dominance. They were like the mischievous Okita swords, always bickering, each trying to outdo the other. Thank goodness humans weren’t privy to spirit talk, or else Hijikata would have a thing or two to say about keeping order.

Once again Kunihiro’s thoughts wander down memory lane, evoking pain inside of him. Not the physical type of pain he felt when he slapped his original body, but the emotional inside-human type of pain. This was the pain associated with losing those close to him.

But perhaps, just perhaps, if he was given a second chance, the other Shinsengumi swords were given one as well?

Then and there Kunihiro found a new agenda: to seek out whether the other Shinsengumi swords were here, wherever here was. That was another thing he had to figure out, along with a multitude of other questions regarding the system of the place, why they were brought here and so, so much more.

How curious that before he attained a human body there was no such thing as a desire to accomplish something of his own accord. Rather, he - no, they, the tsukumogamis - were all content with carrying out their owners’ wishes. But now, he had a new goal.

And for the rest of the night, Kunihiro pondered what other agenda he should pursue with his newfound mobility.

~oOo~

Kunihiro tugged at his bangs.

There were a lot of mechanics involved in bringing swords back from the flow of history, but physical appearance was probably the hardest to comprehend. It wasn’t just about retaining certain aspects of their original design (mind you, he didn’t retain anything in particular from his sword form), but also creating new features and filling in gaps when certain swords were more legendary objects than referenced reality.

As for him, his looks were decidedly boyish if not leaning a bit too much on the childish side. Despite not having seen before, Kunihiro nonetheless felt that his appearance didn’t quite match his age. Instinctively he knew the concept of age and its effects on human appearances, therefore it came as a surprise to him when he noticed that some of the youngest-looking swords in the Citadel were in fact, the oldest ones.

It was later explained to him that the manifested spirits reflect their actual sword length rather than their forging age. He guessed that made sense, considering that his smaller stature also brought about more flexibility, which was what he was originally created for.

Compared to the other swords, Kunihiro’s looks weren’t too flamboyant. He didn’t have hair one of the color of the rainbow or ridiculously long limbs. If anything, he was decidedly normal. Perhaps all the more reason for people to take note of his side-swiping bangs and big blue eyes.

As a sword equipped for night excursions, his eyes were his pride. He had better eyesight than most of the other swords, not to mention that his night vision was one of the best in the Citadel. The bangs were a bit of a nuisance as they tend to fall into his eyes during rapid movements, but they were also his unique feature, so he left them to their own device.

“Although I am familiar to blue eyes, Horikawa’s is too bright, waaaay too bright and big.” Kiyomitsu once said passingly.

Others may have taken the comment as an insult, but with Kiyomitsu, it was sometimes hard to distinguish between actual jabs and casual comments. Thankfully Kunihiro was one of the few that could read between the lines.

But sometimes even the most familiar can be obtuse.

“He’s just jealous that his eyes are not as cute. Like yours and mine,” Yamatonokami grinned.

“You would’ve looked more like Okita if you had narrower eyes.”

That was definitely a jab. Kunihiro winced.

True enough, the duo was off as one chased after the other in mock anger. It seemed that Okita’s liveliness rubbed off of them.

Naturally he didn’t think much about his own eye color, simply by virtue of the fact that he wasn’t faced with them 24-7. Perhaps it was best that his bangs partially covered the eyes if others found it disconcerting.

Something that did bother him, however, was his garment. It was odd that his battle garment lacked the red that was characteristic of his scabbard. Instead, all the red went into his internal affairs uniform, which had more to do with the design for each sword school rather than their inherent appearance.

His ‘brothers’ also shared the same red uniforms and the only way to distinguish them during laundry were by their size and…level of tatter, something that no amount of washing could remove. He really needs to have a good sit-down talk with his secluded brother. Allegedly neither of them was the real deal, which should be a good starting point for conversation.

Kunihiro sighed as he hung his brother’s tattered shirt on the line.

Then again…red wasn’t the best color choice for assassination deeds.

~oOo~

Lately Kunihiro was fascinated with sounds. Volume, rhythm, repetition, intonation and words surround him and was reiterated by him. He came to recognize the residents of the Citadel not only by their voices, but also by their footsteps. The tantous were always in a hurry, pattering feet announcing themselves well before the boys came into view. There were the yaris and naginatas, who, with their larger stature, can lumber quite a bit. There was the swish swish swish of fabric as the older swords who wore traditional dresses moved about, the ends of their hakama and sleeves brushing against one another in tandem with their strides.

By far the hardest to hear were his own type - the wakizashis - who excelled in stealth, some of whom also had a penchant for deep night ventures. Had it not been for the fact that they were natural scouters, Kunihiro doubted he could have spotted them when they passed by.

“Good night.” Kunihiro greeted quietly as Honebami and Namazuo walked by. They nodded in return before disappearing down the hallway.

Kunihiro tested his own vocals a few times, wincing when it came out slightly higher pitched than he’d imagine. Others said it sounded bright and Kunihiro. He wasn’t quite sure how his name could be used as an adjective, but he supposed his voice was better than Yagen’s, which for some reason was far too low a register for someone of his stature.

“Ka-n-ne-sa-ngh.” Kunihiro tested out the name in his mouth, swishing it around like it was a piece of chocolate. The ‘ne’ syllable was hard to pronounce, probably to do with its softer intonation, but after a few practices, it came out sounding much better. That was the nickname he had given to the other sword forged in the likeness of his image. ‘Izumi no Kami Kanesada’ was too long to say in one breath, he figured he could take the liberty to shorten it.

Given that Kanesada hadn’t fully manifested as a spirit during their time with Hijikata, Kunihiro hadn’t actually communicated with the other sword. At that time, he could only feel the familiar vibe of an awakening spirit. But what a lively young spirit it was! There was a lot of energy emanating off of the spirit well before it was fully formed. Needless to say it will become a strong sword befitting of Hijikata’s name.

Hijikata himself was immensely proud of this blade, supposedly it was crafted under the famous Kanesada. It was a different type of sword, longer and stronger, suited for battle in full daylight under the auspicious gaze of their master. That knowledge meant that Kunihiro was somehow delegated to the secondary role, even though by chronological order he was older. But he was happy to become the assistant, Kane-san could be the first. As his superior, Kunihiro will make certain that Kane-san’s growth came to pass and that he fledged into a noble sword. This was a secret delight only older people nurse when they were able to guide a younger one forward.

As of now, Kane-san hadn’t arrived at the Citadel yet. The Saniwa claimed that it wouldn’t be long before they find Kane-san because unlike some of the other swords, his original body didn’t disappear entirely. (Kunihiro wondered if the difficulty was with summoning the existing swords from the museums where they were kept, as that would construe some sort of historical alteration.)

No worries because he was not in a hurry. Kunihiro wanted to make sure that he had fully mastered his body before meeting the younger sword.

After all, how could he possibly be a good assistant if he had no agency over himself?

~oOo~

“One egg, half a cup of sugar…” Kunihiro scrunched his nose slightly in concentration.

It was his turn to perform the kitchen duties. For whatever reason, their daily duties included serving dishes to the mass, tending to the farms and maintaining the overall hygiene of the Citadel. It made absolutely no sense. Sure, they had human bodies, and maybe some human tendencies, but they were swords by nature. And… swords don’t eat.

When Kunihiro inquired, he got varying responses. Mutsunokami, for one, was bent on savoring the pleasures of food. Ichigo spewed something about health and making young swords grow fine, whatever that meant. Their looks were already set in stone, including their physical built and no amount of eating could change that. Alternatively, Ishikirimaru said food was the aura of the universe encapsulated in a material that could be internalized, which only added to the confusion.

In the end Kunihiro decided that eating was just a pleasurable ritualistic act that life participate in, and given that they were alive, they should do so as well.

Kunihiro’s brows furrowed as he focused on beating the eggs into the flour till solid and liquid merge into one. Mitsutada mentioned that he could start with baking first, which was easier because unlike cooking, it was less of an art and require more measured precision.

The one-eyed sword said that he was a natural at baking, but Kunihiro wondered if it had more to do with the fact that his body was small enough to fit snugly within the kitchen or that his temperament was mild enough to keep the ingredients within the bowl. When kitchen duty fell into the hands of many of the other swords, it inevitably became more cleaning up rather than making food.

Most of the tantous couldn’t be trusted with food unless Ichigo was standing watch over them. The poor yaris, naginatas and ootachis could barely move within the confines of the kitchen. And the Sanjous……well, they were a class of their own. Add Tsurumaru into the mix and the kitchen was a goner.

Thankfully the Saniwa had the mercy to assign only a few of the regulars to the kitchen.

Gradually the fragrant aroma of baked goods filled the kitchen as the cookies finished. Kunihiro took a bite and winced at the explosion of sweetness in his mouth. It was not his thing – he preferred sour and bitter, they somehow reminded him of the loss of his former master. He disliked salt, simply because he heard that that was the taste of ocean water, something that he did not sorely miss.

Mitsutada noticed his wince and laughed. “The tantous love the sugar, especially Houchou. I suspect that’s how they stay so energetic all the time.” He packed all the cookies unto a plate for dinner.

Kunihiro noticed that he had left out a few.

“There’s a saying that the baker should leave the first few cookies for their dearest,” Mitsutada winked and left.

…for their dearest…

Kunihiro mulled over whom he would consider ‘dearest’. He didn’t think his relationship with Hijikata counted as one – most swords weren’t close to their masters, and that was assuming their relationship was a benign one. Nay, it was more of a servile exchange: their master wielded them, they followed without thought.

The other Shinsengumi swords were close contenders, they were comrades in battle and extended family of sorts, but there were three of them, and Mitsutada only left enough cookies for one. It was not in Kunihiro’s nature to favour one above the other.

There were also his brothers-by-creator, but Yamabushi was off to training and Yamanbagiri was…hiding somewhere again.

If only Kane-san was here, that would solve his dilemma.

Kunihiro sighed again and left the cookies by the Saniwa’s door as a token of appreciation for bringing him and everyone else to the Citadel.

~oOo~

Some say that the longer a sword was used in the battlefield, the more bloodlust they harbor.

Kunihiro realized that killing the Time Retrograde Army was an exhilarating experience as his original body tore through enemy flesh. It was what he was made for, he thrived in the frenzy. It - this killing - gave him renewed purpose. The best part? He had control over how he wanted to end another life.

For the moment, his two bodies connected at a level never felt before. He saw through the blade, he felt what the blade felt, he was, and will always be, the blade which slice through the night.

In his previous life, the target of his blade was entirely dependent on whoever was holding the hilt. Sometimes the killing was smooth, clean slices through the weakest part of the human body. But sometimes it was awfully messy. Even though he had no senses back then, he was somehow aware of when an attack was good, or when it was a poor hit that left the victim gurgling and struggling for life.

Now it was different. With senses tingling, Kunihiro could direct where his blows land. The impact of his attack, the whistling of the wind as his blade swept through the air and the acrid taste on his tongue as the Time Retrograde Army disintegrated before him sent his heart racing.

From the corner of his eyes he saw that Okita’s swords were enjoying the killing spree as well. Kiyomitsu deftly weaved himself between the enemy ranks, parting the crowd every which way with wide arcs of steel. Yamatonokami grinned wildly as enemy blood adorned his blue robe.

At least Kunihiro need not worry about washing out the stains later: the enemy’s blood faded quickly, just as quickly as the enemy body disintegrating into the wind.

So it came as a surprise when he was damaged by a stray ootachi. Red began pooling from the wound, warm and sticky, the sight of which sent nauseating tremors throughout his whole frame. He thought they were similar in some respect to the enemy, because they were first and foremost swords, and swords don’t bleed, but he guessed they were very much like humans on the inside as well.

Pain erupted from his wound and Kunihiro went down. Panic bubbled up within him as he lost control of his body. Luckily the Okita swords were beside him in a moment, fighting off the enemies who had taken the opening.

Kunihiro watched in a daze as the last of the Time Retrograde Army was brought down. Kiyomitsu said something to him, but when he couldn’t respond, they’d just hauled him unto Yamatonokami’s back before teleporting back to the Citadel.

Then slowly, the pain dwindled as he was taken away, just like the last time he sank to the bottom of the ocean. His vision closed in while his soul awaited the sweet bliss of darkness.

He was dimly aware of the tantous crying as they trailed behind him while he was being transported to the healing room. His blade which laid beside him was cracked across the body. How odd it was that the injuries on his body were reflected onto the blade, Kunihiro thought to himself. Would he disappear? He didn’t want to leave yet, not when he was coming to like the residents in the Citadel. And definitely not before Kane-san arrive.

Kunihiro tried to fight off the darkness, but it was to no avail.

He went out of consciousness.

~oOo~

By and by Kunihiro regained consciousness again. At least this time it was a gradual awakening rather than the confusing explosion that he had to contend with when he first arrived at the Citadel.

Things were different: there was a renewed vigor in him. His blue eyes sparkled with life. Another narrow escape from death had grounded him in the reality that life was truly him now.

Seeing the tantous cry in joy about his return, being stuffed with food from the kitchen, being excused from internal affairs while he recuperated, all the care and love he received from everyone was overwhelming…….but also so filling.

Kunihiro felt himself teared up for the first time.

He was back at the Citadel, where he belonged.

#writing #touken ranbu #Horikawa Kunihiro

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