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moonmaiden1996 · 16 days ago

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The Monster Maomao Created Part 5

Even without his disguise, the room was unbearably hot, with his heavy robes and veil it was pure hell. The thick summer air hung heavy, cloaking everything in a suffocating haze. Heat radiated off the lacquered floor tiles in waves, pickling his back and arms beneath the many layers of silk he was still forced to wear. Sweat pooled at the base of Jinshi’s neck, slick against the collar of his robes.

The only relief came from a narrow window high in the stone wall, where a thread of breeze slithered in, stirring the incense smoke and rustling a strand of his hair that poked through the eye slot It wasn’t enough. But to complain now—before the Emperor, and worse, the General—would have been unthinkable.

The General, a towering man with sun-darkened skin and silver threaded through his temples, sat across from him with all the stillness of a statue. His presence seemed to swallow the room. But still, Jinshi did not flinch. He sat straight-backed and silent, his face a mask of calm, though heat stung his skin and soaked his underlayer. He stared directly at the older man, even as tension crackled through the space like the silence before a battle.

“…so if all bears well, we will return before the next full moon,” the General was saying, his voice like gravel dragged across iron. “The barbarians are no match for your forces.”

“It is only through your leadership, General,” the Emperor replied smoothly from his elevated seat. “You have proven yourself, time and again. Clan Hu remains one of our greatest pillars of strength.”

Jinshi watched the old warrior bow his head with practiced humility, arms sweeping out in a rigid arc of gratitude. His lips parted, a reply forming—but the Emperor spoke again, eyes gleaming with something unreadable.

“…but I did not summon you to speak only of battle. In the midst of all this conflict, I wish to demonstrate our strength through unity. A marriage.”

“You honor me, Your Majesty…” the General began cautiously.

“But?” the Emperor leaned forward slightly, voice warm with invitation. “Come now, loyal friend. You may speak freely.”

The General exhaled, slow and heavy. “My daughter is not made for the court. She was raised in her mother’s western heritage—too bold, too sharp. She would not thrive as a consort.”

The Emperor’s lips curved in amusement. “I agree. Some flowers do not bloom in gilded cages. Your daughter reminds me of the blue poppy that grows in the high passes—delicate in appearance, yes, but only in the wild does it show its true color. Attempt to cultivate it in the bounds of a garden and it withers.”

A flicker of something—perhaps pride, perhaps pain—passed over the General’s face. His rigid shoulders eased, just a fraction.

“But I do not speak of taking her as my consort,” the Emperor continued. “I speak of my brother. It is time he had a wife, and I can think of no better bride than your daughter.”

The shift in the General’s body was immediate. His spine straightened; his eyes narrowed. Jinshi could feel the weight of his attention shift directly onto him, appraising, dissecting.

“I am aware,” the General said, voice cold now, “that the Imperial Brother gifted my daughter a pin for her birthday. But that is all it is a gift.”

“This prospect upsets you?” the Emperor asked, not unkindly.

The General’s fingers curled against his thighs, the knuckles paling with restraint.“If I may speak freely…” he bites out in a strained attempt at calm. “The Imperial Brother is not what I envisioned for my daughter. He is …unsuitable to her. The court has always assumed that due to… his affliction… he would not marry. So long as the line of succession continues, this has never been questioned. My daughter, though she may not show it, is full of warmth. She needs love and strength from a husband, not a match made of politics.”

The Emperor inclined his head. “It is clear you cherish her greatly.”

“As if she were a son. Perhaps more.” The General’s voice cracked slightly with intensity. “And that is why, though I am honored by the offer, I must decline—not out of defiance, but out of love.”

“If I may.” Jinshi spoke quietly, but his voice carried. The General looked at him sharply, never had the prince's voice been heard beyond the whispers to his courtiers when he did attend count.

“I do not wish to force your daughter,” Jinshi continued. “I do not intend to make a pawn of her.”

The General blinked.

“She is beautiful, yes. And noble. But that is not why I wish to marry her. I may still be the Emperor’s brother, but I am no longer the Second Prince. With the birth of my nephew, I am finally free—to choose not just a bride, but a partner. And I choose her. I chose her the moment we first met.”

The General scoffed, his temper flaring visibly. “You have never met my daughter. You never leave the palace.”

“Oh, but I do.”

Jinshi reached up. His fingers moved slowly, deliberately, to the knot at the base of his head. With one fluid motion, he untied the tightly bound mask and let it fall into his lap.

Four things happened at once.

The General surged to his feet, a roar tearing from his throat.

The Emperor smirked

A rush of cool air kissed Jinshi’s damp skin, the freedom of it almost dizzying.

And Gohsan, standing silent by the pillar, visibly aged another five years.

“What is the meaning of this?!” the General thundered. His voice cracked through the chamber like lightning.

“Sit, General,” the Emperor commanded.

The older man stood heaving, nostrils flared, staring down at the unmasked figure before him.

“He is a eunuch!” the General snarled. “What is the meaning of this deception? This insult?”

“Forgive my brother’s theatricality,” the Emperor said with a sigh. “I had hoped for a more graceful reveal. My brother has taken great pains to remove himself from the line of succession—to ensure peace and stability. What better way than by walking among the court unseen? What better way to observe… and to protect? But as a false eunuch, whose else could I trust as a gardener to my garden.”

“That does not mean I will—”

“You may be my most trusted general,” the Emperor cut him off, voice like velvet over iron, “but you will treat my brother with respect.”

Jinshi met the General’s burning stare without flinching.

“Am I supposed to allow this?” the General snapped. “To have this hidden from her? For her to marry a man who deceives her, who will wear a mask and pretend to be a eunuch.”

“I only ask for the chance to court her,” Jinshi said. “And when the time comes, to reveal everything. To give her the choice.”

The General’s eyes searched his face, looking for weakness, for deceit. He found only resolve.

“…Is this agreeable to you?” The emperor asked, voice low.

“Only after I return will this be discussed, and then she may have her choice.’’

A long pause. The tension stretched like a drawn bow. Then, at last—

“Agreed.” The emperor nodded.

The General exhaled, the fire slowly receding from his gaze. He bowed stiffly, each movement strained with unspoken words. Then, without waiting for dismissal, he turned and strode from the room, boots thudding heavily against the stone floor.

The silence he left behind was thick and humming.

The Emperor leaned back in his seat, smirking. “I don’t think your future father-in-law likes you.”

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

The cherry blossoms will be in bloom soon.

You could see them beginning to wake—the tiniest buds cracking their casings, just a whisper of pink and white unfurling at the edges. They lined the garden path like promises yet kept, painting the way to the summer house with the first brushstrokes of spring. A pity, truly, that your father would miss it again.

He had always loved the blossoms. Beyond those high, curved walls, you knew the army was preparing. Swords were sharpened, warhorses readied. Soon your father would ride out against the barbarians in the north, and you would be left behind once again. But if he returned safely—as he always did—you could sit together once more in the shade of the summer house. Drink tea among the falling petals. Speak not of politics or duty but as father and daughter.

You just had to survive until then. A diminutive wren, you thought, protecting her hatchlings against the circling eagle while below vipers lay in wait for a stray chick to fall from the nest.

Your fingers trembled as you walked. If only tou had more time to wave a plan, to plot and strategies. But alas, you were at the merxy of this single meeting. The garden chamber. Your father was there. With them. With him.

If he emerged and spoke the word you’d been waiting for—betrothal—then the path forward would be clear. Marriage to the Emperor’s brother was a hindrance in one sense… but it was safety in another. Especially with the Empress beginning to warm to you. No one would dare strike at you from the shadows once you were part of the royal household. Well, mostly anyway.

You reached the edge of the path just as the doors opened across the garden. With fury your father flew from the door and down across the wooden slats that lined the path.

“Father!”

He brushed past you.

He moved quickly, faster than decorum allowed, his robes kicking up dust as they brushed along the floor. You stepped in front of him, placing a hand on his arm. “Stay,” you said gently. “Walk with me. We could take tea together. You haven’t seen the summer house since the buds started—”

“I can’t.” His eyes darted, not meeting yours. “I… I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

But he was already gone, his boots echoing against the stone, swallowed by the curve of the corridor before you could call out again.

You stood there a moment, heart caught in your throat.

And then you saw them.

Jinshi stood just inside the doorway, the Emperor beside him. He wasn’t speaking. Just… watching. His face, so often composed and unreadable, was different now. Forlorn. Lips parted like he’d tried to say something but couldn’t. Or wouldn’t.

And your stomach dropped. Had your father refused the match? Had he turned down the protection you so desperately needed? No. No, it couldn’t end like this.

You turned on your heel, skirts whispering around your legs, mind already racing. If your father wouldn’t see this done, then you would.

He desired you. You knew it. You felt it in the way his eyes lingered. In how his breath caught when you moved too close. He just needed a little… encouragement. Maomao had crafted his obsession so carefully that now she was powerless to stop it once she realized the potential of her actions. You would use it, despite every fibre of you wanting nothing more than to run away, to hide, to fight him off.

But you were a woman and you would use everything at your disposal to get what you wanted.

xxxxxxxxxx

The summer house was bathed in golden light. It spilled through the lattice like liquid fire, casting dappled shadows that swayed gently with the breeze. Blossoms clung to the air like snow, drifting lazily across the lacquered floor, catching in your hair, your sleeves, as if the garden itself wanted to adorn you. You had the tea set arranged just so—crystal pot, delicate porcelain cups, a small dish of honey that glinted amber in the sunlight, like a treasure laid out for an offering.

You waited.

The warm hush of the afternoon settled around you like silk. The garden murmured with soft wind and the low hum of bees in the nearby wisteria. You had not hidden your presence; there was no need. And like a loyal hound drawn by some unspoken call, he came—cautiously, uncertainly—skirting the edge of the path.

God of a man. Even from afar, the sight of him stirred something low and molten in your belly. Tall and broad-shouldered, draped in silks the color of ink and starlight, his figure caught the sun like a sculpture. Robes are far too grand for an overseer. His skin gleamed, his hair swept back in perfect knots. He looked, in that moment, like an emperor. You felt foolish for not seeing it sooner, for mistaking him for something simpler. But perhaps that was why it had worked. No one looked past the surface of such beauty. No one expected the sharp mind or the aching depth beneath it.

Jinshi. On his own. Interesting.

Your eyes sparked as you took him in

He was too handsome. Distractingly so. Infuriatingly so. But he made it easy to imagine being his wife. Because, beneath all of that beauty, he wanted you.

“Master Jinshi! Join me. I need some company,” you said as he stepped into the golden hush of the house. “The court can be… so unfriendly.”

He hesitated, one foot still at the threshold, the sunlight like a halo behind him. “You shouldn’t be alone. Not with your father leaving so soon.”

“I’m not.” Your smile was slow, curling at the corners of your mouth like smoke. “You’re here.”

He blinked, uncertain. You gestured to the cushion across from you, fingers light, graceful.

The steam from the tea curled between you, poured with care, letting the scent of jasmine perfume the air between you. Then, deliberately, you reached for the honey.

Your fingers dipped the silver spoon into the golden pool, stirred it slowly into your cup with long, languid circles. All the while, your gaze lingered on him—just beneath your lashes, as if by accident. Then, still watching, you brought the spoon to your lips.

You sucked it clean.

The warmth, the sweetness—it spread across your tongue and drew a quiet sigh from your chest. The sigh was not for him, not exactly. But you knew he would feel it like a kiss.

Jinshi’s face went red—abruptly, violently. He looked away like you’d slapped him, hand tightening around his teacup until his knuckles went pale. He shifted, tense, his breath not quite even. You saw the flicker of something wild in him, something barely restrained.

Beneath the low table, you pressed your thighs together. The heat there made you inhale softly, as the tingle ran through. That was new.

“Is the tea too hot?” you asked, voice low, a teasing purr, eyes lingering on his hands still firmly clinging to the cup.

“No… no, erm… it’s fine,” he managed, his voice rough with something he couldn’t quite swallow. “Is the honey good?”

“Very.” You smiled—soft and slow—and sipped, letting the tea linger on your tongue.’’You should try it’’ Then, as if remembering yourself, you glanced toward the garden, where the first buds of lotus curled open like secrets at the edge of the pond.

He cleared his throat, as if the weight of your gaze—or the heat that clung to the air between you—could be shaken off with such a simple sound. He was trying to gather himself. It wasn’t working.

“Your father is to leave soon.”

The unease, the low thrumming anxiety that had been pacing the edges of your thoughts, returned—settled heavy in your stomach like a stone. Your fingers tightened slightly on the rim of your cup.

“Yes,” you said quietly. “I fear what will happen if he doesn’t return.”

A pause. The sunlight flickered across Jinshi’s cheekbones, gilding them like something carved from marble and flame.

“You have the Imperial Brother’s hairpin,” he said at last. “I’m sure you’ll be looked after.”

But his voice had changed—tight, strained, brittle at the edges. Not conviction. Jealousy.

“You think so?”Your eyes returned to him then, sharper than before, glittering with something close to challenge. “He does send the prettiest poems,” you said, letting the words roll lazily from your tongue like honey. “He’s such a sweet soul. Gentle. Well-read. Everything a woman is supposed to want.”

Jinshi’s expression didn’t change, but you saw it in the way he stopped breathing.

“But,” you continued, tilting your head just slightly, “he won’t even see me. Not once, and I can not visit him.”

You traced the rim of your teacup with one idle finger, watching his hands on his lap—tight, still. “It doesn’t give a very clear signal, does it? Perhaps…” You let the silence stretch, then sighed. “Perhaps I’m not worth the trouble. Or perhaps he simply pities me.”

There was no true hurt in your voice, but you let it echo there anyway, faint and deliberate. Enough to stir something in him. Enough to make him bleed for it.

Jinshi’s jaw clenched—barely, but you noticed. The muscle ticked once. His eyes darkened, though he did not speak. He was too careful for that.

And so, you leaned back, sipping again, smiling as if nothing you said had any consequence at all.

Jinshi’s silence stretched long—too long. You could see the storm of thoughts behind his gaze, the way he warred with himself, unsure if he dared speak what he truly believed. Finally, he said, voice low and strangely gentle:

“Maybe…” He hesitated, then pressed on. “Maybe the Imperial Brother doesn’t avoid you because he pities you. Maybe he fears how you might look at him.”

You tilted your head, the motion slow and deliberate. “Oh?”

Jinshi’s hand curled loosely into a fist on the table. “He must keep himself veiled, even from most of the court. He exhaled slowly. “Perhaps he thinks… if you saw him—truly—you would turn away.”

A soft breeze stirred the curtains at your back. The sunlight moved with it, catching the warmth in your eyes as you looked across at him.

“I don’t care for beauty,” you said, your voice quiet but firm. “I care for a man who loves me. Who cherishes me.”

He blinked. You could see the moment those words struck him.

“But love is a luxury I cannot afford,” you added, softer now, more honest. The ache behind the words cracked something open between you. “So, failing that… I must choose someone who will not harm my family. Someone with enough power to shield them. Even if he does not love me. Even if I do not love him.”

You let the truth hang there, raw and bare, because there was nothing else you could offer.

Your fingers played at the edge of your sleeve, twisting the silk. “Pretty poems are not enough,” you murmured. “Not when the world is waiting to devour everything I hold dear.”

Jinshi looked down into his untouched tea, his throat worked as he swallowed, slow and deliberate. The silence built around you like gathering thunderclouds, low and pressing. You watched his jaw clench, tight enough to ache.

“Maybe I should find someone else,” you said, voice light but edged. “Someine like Minister Zhou’s son, maybe. Or Commander Ling.”

The effect was immediate.

He went pale—then flushed. His brows twitched as though struck. A storm rolled across his face—confusion first, then jealousy, and beneath it, something darker still. Something old and buried and just beginning to rise.

“You can’t,” he said abruptly, the words too loud, too sharp.

You blinked.

“He’s—he’s beastly,” Jinshi stammered, almost tripping over the words. “He wouldn’t know how to care for you. He doesn’t even know how to speak to a woman without sounding like a drunk soldier at a brothel—he—”

But he broke off, and the rest was lost in a sudden motion. He stood, too fast, too tense, the cushions shifting beneath him. His breath came shallow now, eyes burning as he leaned over the low tea table—towering without touching. His hands clenched at the polished edge as though gripping something inside himself.

For a moment, just one, you wondered if he would kiss you or throw the tea set against the floor.

“I need to make sure my brothers are protected,” you said, carefully, pulling the heat back to something firmer, rational.

“I could protect them,” Jinshi said, his voice gone low, hoarse with restraint. “I will. I have influence. And power.”

It wasn’t a plea. It was a declaration, dressed in urgency, carved in control.

You reached across the space and laid your hands over his.

The shift in him was near imperceptible—but you felt it. A breath caught. A line in his shoulders softened, but only slightly. As though your touch tethered something that might otherwise unravel. Then it struck you—this was the first time you had ever touched him.

His skin was warm—firm, steady. Expected. But the sensation that bloomed under your palm was not.

Something stirred in you, deep and low, curling with heat. Trembling, almost afraid. A quiet ache that had nothing to do with safety and everything to do with him. You turned his palm gently upward, tracing the ridges of callus with slow reverence. He didn’t move. But his breath hitched once—barely—and you knew he was holding himself together with a thread.

You were suddenly, devastatingly aware of how much you wanted those hands. Not as symbols of strength, but as skin—warm and rough against your thigh, your back, your throat. You shifted instinctively, thighs tightening beneath your robes. The friction sent a wave of sharp heat through you—undeniable, alarming.

Your fingertip brushed his palm again, featherlight.

He hissed through his teeth. His other hand gripped the table’s edge so hard it creaked.

“If only I had met you before you chose your path,” you murmured, gaze lowering. “Before you tied your life to the Emperor’s garden. If you weren’t…” You trailed off. “I would accept you in a heartbeat.”

You dared not meet his eyes. Your throat ached with the truth.

Then, softer: “But as a woman, there’s only so much I can do. I’ll do what I can for my brothers and pray for my father’s safe return. It is all I can do.”

Not the truth, of course, as a woman you were quite capable of doing a lot, but using your feminine power was far more effective.

Then—his fingers closed over yours. Not rough. Not trembling. Possessive.

“You are more than that,” he said, his voice rough. His grip tightened—not enough to hurt, just enough to remind you of his strength. The depth beneath the mask. The danger.

“You are the strongest person I know.” Then, lower—his voice barely a breath: “And if I had met you before I entered the Emperor’s service… I wouldn’t have waited for you to accept me.”

He looked at you then—truly looked. No mask, no smile, no polished restraint. “I would have taken you.”

The words rang in the silence between you like something sacred. Or profane. You didn’t know which. He inhaled, slow and hard. His hand lifted slightly, fingers brushing yours and for a brief moment tou thoufht he might take tou then and there. Throw you onto the table and ravish you. The fact you even thought of that disturbed you. More so because your corr cletched at the mere thought.

“I will do all I can to ensure your safety. Until your father returns. Then we—then I… then all of this will make sense.” And when his eyes locked on yours again, something inside you faltered. You felt scared.

Because you believed him.

And the horror was—you wanted to trust him.

Sorry for the lack of an update. Life has been awful. But you likes and comments have been amazing and really made me want to write.

So I did, in fact, rewrite this twice as it wasn't hitting. After watching the latest couple of episodes I want and need more dark and possessive Jinshi in my life. Was it worth the wait?

Please let me know what you think!

@btsgangleader @thecrazyone2007 @solatiiium @ylovei @mybones537 @clairedeselene @1-800-peakyblinders @traumatizedpomelo @sarcastic-wit

#jinshi x reader #jinshi apothecary diaries #jinshi #the apothecary diaries #apothecary diaries

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sashi-ya · 1 year ago

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ 𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑹𝑰𝑶𝑹𝑺 𝑶𝑭 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑺𝑼𝑵ㅤㅤ january free requestsㅤ ㅤ trafalgar law x f! reader

🕊️ request: @leftladyluminary ⋆｡˚ Hello ( ^ω^ ) I was wondering if I could request a Law x fem!reader exploring a temple together that turns out to be a uh “procreation” temple the strongly affects those who enter? Please and thank you~ （╹◡╹）♡ 🕊️ tw: mdni. raw, rough sex. vaginal. nipple play. pregnancy ideas implied. cream pie. wc: 1650 🕊️ masterlist

Zou is a humid place, very muddy as well. Your boots are dirty, and your clothing soaking wet. Those “Eruption Rains” become pretty inconvenient throughout the day, but they are necessary.

“I shouldn’t have worn a white shirt…” you tell Law, crossing your arms over your breasts.

“I would say you shouldn’t have worn it without a bra, (Name)-ya” Law says, squeezing and twisting his hat to drain it from the excess of water.

You sit down on a rock. Was it really necessary to say such thing? At best he should be a little bit happy to see your body through semi see through fabrics. What Law has just said felt painful to you, to say the least.

“You are right, I’m sorry” you mumble, walking away to find a proper place to hide and change your clothes. You are sure the ones in your backpack are as wet as your current ones, but something darker will do to cover up.

When the rivers formed in what are usually trails on top of Zuneesha’s back are finally dried, you find a very interesting construction ahead. Curious, as always, you come closer to discover it is a shrine.

“What a beautiful place” you comment in awe. Law seems to be anywhere else. He is probably near, but not close to you.

Curious, you put a step inside the shrine. It isn’t necessarily different from the rest of the temples you have attended in this long journey of piracy. However, somehow in the aura feels unusual to you.

The scent of incense smells more flowery, sweet, maybe even a little bit spicy. The Vitreaux windows create incredible depictions of Orchids on the ground, as the sun filters its rains through them. And the altar has a very distinctive little statue that calls for your hand to touch.

“I wonder what’s this shrine about? What god is meant to be built for? In fact, do Minks have gods?” you ask yourself, making mental notes to ask Wanda once you are back from your expedition.

Your eyes scan the golden sculpture, it looks like two creatures tangled into each other. You would lie if you said you didn’t think of them having sex, and in fact you giggle for your “witty” thoughts.

There isn’t much to discover besides what you have just seen, but a little sign engraved in an old piece of wood.

“you shall keep your blood flowing; the warriors of the Sun must never disappear; they will fight for freedom and unity during this dark night”

You smile; and immediately after reading you remember Luffy. Even Law recognizes he is as shiny as the Sun itself. You don’t really think much of the true meaning of the sign, and soon after find Law looking at you from the very entrance.

“I turned around and you were gone, I didn’t know where you were” he asks, still soaking wet like a cat left out in the rain and looking a little bit mad at you for disappearing.

You could have picked a fight; you probably could have just brushed it off. But neither of those were your reaction, and unconsciously you lift your arms to stretch. The white shirt, still soaking wet, kept the transparency and with that the show off of your hard nipples presented to Law in its full beauty.

“I’m sorry, I was looking for a place to change” you tell him, with a rather sexy tone.

Law’s sun burnt cheeks turn red, golden eyes widening, pupils getting bigger. The little hints of black eyeliner smudge on his already dark tinted under eyes, the juicy pale lips of your captain slowly separating.

“You thought of changing on a shrine? Getting naked on a temple, (Name)-ya?” he asks, coming closer to you as he lets his yellow bag fall on the floor. Law walks like a snow leopard, slowly, menacing, sexily…

You swallow. That’s not his usual self, not at least with you. He looks like he is about to fight you, or even hurt you.

“L-Law, I wanted to put on a shirt over this one so that my breasts won-“ you shut up, as he strikes you and pins you against the altar.

You put your arms back to get a grip of something as you lose balance. Your hand reaches something cold and tiny and immediately after, his warm inked hand falls on top of yours.

Both, at the same time, touch the little statue behind and it feels like a new energy begins to run through your veins. It doesn’t take you long to finally succumb into a lustful, inappropriate kiss. His hands, all over your waist, lift the wet shirt that’s begun to get hot and too heavy on your skin.

“I have no idea what force is making me do this, but believe me I am not mad about it, (Name)-ya” Law whispers, in between panting and with his lips grazing yours.

“I have no idea either, but don’t you dare stop…”

The Surgeon of Death attacks your lips once again, this time while freeing you completely from your wet coverings… even if, something else in you was getting wetter by the moment.

Maybe it was the force of doing something so incorrect, so unholy on a sacred place… or maybe it was your love? Or even, both? Who knows, perhaps it was something else but the more you kiss, the more your bodies slide down until your back hits the red carpet covered floor.

Law’s tattooed hands squeeze and play with your breasts, almost like a beast ready to engulf his prey. “You wanted me to do this, don’t you?” he asks, reaching for one of your hard nipples, kissing the erected surface and then trapping it with his lips.

“Honestly, yes. I missed your touch…” you moan, realizing you are finally able to indulge in sex. It’s been long enough since you could touch each other, since you could be this intimate.

“I know, I’m sorry…” he whispers, planting a soft kiss on your chest.

You know there is nothing to forgive, and immediately after you notice his stitched arm holding the weight of his body on top of you.

“Law… can I be on top this time?” you ask, kissing the scar of his biceps.

His golden eyes shine brightly, apparently he loved the question and nods energetically, even if he felt embarrassed seconds after for doing so.

Soon, you take his place, undressing him faster and straddling your hips on his lap. He is hard, and the grey underwear completely soaked let nothing to the imagination. Deliciously tempting, you feel the impulse to your use your mouth before anything else, but the need of having him inside you is stronger… something invisible is making you desire his seed would fill your womb on and on and on.

You lift your ass from his lap, just a little for your hand to pass through your moved to the side panties and his hardness.

Law gasps when he understands you are not there to waist time on any other type of pleasure that his dick deep inside you.

“Now? but I don’t- I don’t have prot-“ he stutters, fighting in between the need of fucking you rough and reproduction health matters.

“You don’t really need it, I want you raw and rough in me…” you purr, guiding his sex towards your dripping entrance.

Your labia devours his tip, engulfing it with a warm slippery sensation. Law’s neck muscles tense, his head gets thrown back, a moan escapes his lips that resonates all over the shrine.

You do the same as you let yourself fall on top of him for his shaft to be finally entirely inside you. A whine so loud that mixes with his, and it becomes never ending as you start to hump on top of him.

Your hips move up and down, back, and forth and also in circles. Law’s fingers carve marks on the side of your hips and sometimes travel to the small of your back to press you against him with divine force. His hips, who up until now where immobile as pleasure struck him harder than he could ever expected, begin to move too.

“Nggh… let me fuck you faster…” he moans, using all of his strength coming from his core to impale you harder and synchronized to the rhythm of your jumps. The sound of wet sweaty skin slapping against the other become a sacred melody all around, while your nails carve marks as you grip from his heart tattooed pecs.

It doesn’t take you longer for your climaxes to arrive, and while your fingers intertwined with Law’s, your spasming walls milk him so violently… so needy, desperate for his release…

His frown intensifies, he even bites his lower lip but his eyes never shut as his pupils only fix into yours. As if his gaze was trying to anticipate something both knew, willingly to do whatever it takes to make his seed plant on you… deep, inside, of you.

“Fill me up…” “Keep it all inside…”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ...

“Wanda, may I ask you something?” you tap on her soft furry shoulder.

“Yes, honey. Tell me, what is it? Are you ok? You look very tired” the mink says, curious and perhaps a little worried about your state… truth Law wasn’t satisfied with just one round.

“So, I found a Shrine on the forest. It had a little statue; I didn’t get exactly what it was representing. But I remember reading a sign that said something about the warriors of the sun should prevail” you explain.

Wanda giggles. “Well, now I know why you are that tired… you went there with Trafalgar, didn’t you? it’s the procreation shrine, ruled by the sun lovers. That’s where we go to pray when we wanna bear children.. it said to be special forces that help us get pregnant”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ“Oh…”

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centrally-unplanned · 5 months ago

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Guess I should throw out some Gaza Ceasefire Thoughts - from a political history perspective it certainly is interesting:

-- As for the deal itself, it is pretty much "the best one could realistically hope for", though funnily enough the details aren't that surprising. Israel for some time has had very little strategy in Gaza (beyond "release the hostages or we keep blowing up random blocks"), and so them agreeing to these terms is the expected outcome. Hamas also lacked any real strategic options, but in the summer you could at least argue "the status quo of radicalizing the population and shredding Israeli reputation is beneficial", so you can see why both sides really weren't committing to anything before in the summer. Things have changed since then, though.

-- The straight-up-humiliating defeat of Hezbollah in the fall was a complete game-changer for the strategic situation. As much as Hamas had a strategy it was "wait for Hezbollah/Iran to carry the weight of the fight", and that was going not-awfully through the summer. Then Israel absolutely shattered Hezbollah to the point where their ability to control Lebanese politics is up-for-grabs, and any real threat to Israel is temporarily gone. Meanwhile Iran stacked that defeat with the revolution in Syria and their own military capacity losses, and while there is real tension in Iran between realist & radicalist factions, the current winds are blowing towards retreat. Combine that with the death of Sinwar, and the new Hamas leadership had no cards left to play. By the same token, Israel has few fights left to win.

-- This is why negotiations resumed in earnest in October/November, and right now you are seeing some pretty heavy exaggeration of the role of the Trump administration in this deal. It has been being hashed out for months, you can easily point to articles about progress throughout both of those months (example) and the Biden administration was heavily involved in the Doha talks. These things just take time, and both sides had a dramatic incentive shift recently. That is carrying the most weight here - talks were "90% complete" before any Trump reps arrived on the scene.

-- But the election certainly did play a role here, primarily because it was inducing uncertainty and changing incentives in the US. While it was going on you can see how both sides could "hope" that new administrations might let them gain an advantage, and understood that commitments from the Biden administration in August just weren't very meaningful. Additionally, while not very important the war was "an issue" in the election, and so the "action space" of politicians was shaped by that. Why not just...wait, and see how things go, right? Now there is no more reason to wait, you know what you got.

--I don't want to take all credit away from Trump on this, though. A theme I will continue to harp on, the "Imperial Presidency" has advantages. Biden was a perpetual faction appeaser, and you could credibly call his bluff on any decision around the war by going "you won't take the heat from your own party on this" from the left or the right. Trump can much more credibly claim "I don't give a fuck what I 'said on the campaign trail', I say what goes, make a deal or I will absolutely spite you". This is not a great strategy in a lot of contexts, but in foreign policy you need this sometimes. Dems really do need to take notes here, more unity in either direction and more strong brinksmanship from Biden would have been better.

--Now let's walk that back a bit - it is way easier for the Trump administration to play hardball. Elections make hard decisions much more difficult to pull off, as political factions can punish you more easily. The Dems have an asymmetric disadvantage here - they are inherently the "dove" party facing a topic where the median American voter is generally hawkish, and they are the party that contains a notable split within itself on the issue. Meanwhile Republicans all agree. No longer facing electoral pressure, it is much easier for Republicans to play a "Nixon goes to China" card and credibly browbeat Israel. No one will really think the Republicans are anti-Israel even if they do that, and Dems can't accuse them effectively of foul play because the party itself is split on the topic. This is "unfair" in a certain sense, for sure, but such is politics.

--I would be assigning way less credulity to the complaints amoung the Israeli far-right about Trump or Netanyahu "betraying" them. The far-right in Israeli is a powerful force, for sure, but by no means do they command the majority. They want to annex the West Bank and all that, but most Israelis disagree, the military isn't on board, it would jeopardize US/Arab ties, etc. Never say never but that was not really in the cards - if it was they would have done it already. Slow-roll settlement expansion is the plan, that will continue, but meanwhile there is nothing left to do in Gaza. Netanyahu is of course going to say publicly "oh boo hoo my hands were tied by the Americans I'm so sorry" while he gets almost all of his realistic goals. This is politics 101 stuff - though if the approval vote on Thursday goes sour then I am wrong on this, part of why I am posting it today. (Also another reason to not assign too much credit to the Trump admin - easy to "bully" someone who wants to be bullied)

Okay done - hopefully the ceasefire sticks, obviously this has been a disastrous war for almost all involved, never look the imperfect status quo horse in the mouth. It isn't the world one would want but it is better than the one we have right now.

#israel gaza war

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artisticprocrastionator · 2 months ago

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🎶[See the sky and all the land together again]

[See the way the earth can stay below]

[Who do we think we are?]

[Everything plays a part]

[There are some things we are never meant to know.]🎶

____

Little about me, I’m a big fan of Tally Hall! I especially love their Album Good & Evil (def should go listen to it!)

Never Meant to Know became one of my favorite songs when I first listen to the album, and even more when I started playing Block Tales. I just feel this song represents Cruel King perfectly, and I really wanted to do a post on this.

Below this is me going into a lyrical analysis of the entire song and how they relate to Cruel King.

Why did this song make me think of Cruel King???

I see this song as Cruel King’s reflection of the events that transpired. He points out his flaws and how they led to his downfall. This song, from how I interpret it, is Cruel King coming to terms with his death and understanding that there are some things he is never meant to know.

______

Lyric Analysis:

(If it helps to follow along with the song, go right ahead!)

[Woke up today with the lay of the land. Feather in cap and the sun in the sand. It was easy, it was easy to understand]

This is before Cruel King’s became influence by the dagger.

He saw himself as a righteous King that was proud of his Kingdom and himself for his accomplishments.

This was a period where everything made sense and everything was perfect. He wakes up every day knowing this and it was a routine he fell into.

[Everything suddenly falls out of sight. Every attachment is made of the light. That you offered, you have offered to give me life]

This now takes place to kinda the present of the events of Block Tales. Player breaking in, attacking his guards, and ultimately leading to Cruel King’s downfall.

However, he is now reflecting back on this as a sign that player was the salvation to his problem that offer to help him out of his darkness, but Cruel King refused player’s light and continued to go down his dark path.

[See the sky and all the land together again. See the way the earth can stay below.]

All Cruel King wanted was to protect his people and to see everything in harmony. The sky and land coming together represent unity which is what Cruel King wanted. It was something he wanted to see.

The earth line I kinda perceive as his status. He is the king and looks over everything so the earth to him always seems beneath him. This can probably mean Cruel King not worrying about a potential threat that can harm his kingdom or that he so high above everyone else he never sees anyone strong enough to bring him down.

[Who do we think we are? Everything plays a part. There are some things we are never meant to know]

Cruel King now understands he had no power in stopping fate. Even him, a king, a guardian of the ice dagger, was inevitably to the outcome of his kingdom and himself.

Even though he may not understand why it happened to him, it is just something he will never have an answer for and have to be content with that thought as everything happens for a reason.

He hopes his reflection will reach other people and prevent the same thing happening to them

[Having enjoyed all the meat from the bone. Is perfectly equal to being alone. It was even, but you breathe and I turn to stone]

Even though he was wealthy and was granted with anything he could have, he still felt empty inside as he had no one to share his wealth. Being king was just the same of being alone, and later Cruel King admitted he wished he had connections to talk to.

However, at this time, being alone was something he was okay with because it would kept everything in balance and avoid any possible trouble for his kingdom.

That was until player would enter and attack his palace. Seeing Player terrified Cruel King as his worst nightmares became true and that the Player was here to take down Blackrock and him.

[Everything suddenly looks like a sign. Easy to see from the outermost clime. I believe in what I leave in the way behind]

This is Cruel King acknowledging his spiral into madness and paranoia due to the ice dagger’s influence. Everyone and everything seems like a sign to Blackrock’s demise.

It was clear to everyone on the outside that nothing was going to happen and it was just Cruel King’s own delusions and paranoia.

This would ultimately make Cruel King to make irrational decisions to stopping this upcoming threat (such as exiling Banished Knight and imprisoning prisoners who question him as potential examples).

[And all the parts combine to one. And all of us around the sun. Everything will fall away. To order from the disarray]

I interpret this part when Cruel King is in possession of the Ice dagger. He feels it all aligning again as he saw that the Ice dagger can help stop the fall of his kingdom.

Everything would be perfect again and he would be able to rewrite history to prevent its fall with the Ice Dagger.

[See the sun, the shadows cast. From all the times I floated past. See the ocean spinning out. With all the hope and all the doubt]

However, he is not aware that the powers of the ice dagger is actually harming his kingdom and his people with them being the forefront of the disasters he will unintentionally inflict on them.

Though he is seen as “the sun” that brings light to his people, his sun is unintentionally putting them into darkness that prevent them from seeing his light.

His people are hopeful that the King will solve these issues and try to believe the King has nothing to do about it, however, there is doubt.

[See the sky and all the land together again. See the way the earth can stay below. Who do we think we are? Everything plays a part. There are some things we don't understand. Reasons on the other hand. There are some things we are never meant to know]

This restates the chorus again, but I feel these last few lines tie up Cruel King’s overall thoughts (almost like this is him talking to us).

Even after his death and the (potential) fall of his kingdom, the world keeps moving on unbothered. Everything is still in order dispute Cruel King’s believing that everything was in shambles.

Cruel King’s understand that he had no power in stopping fate and as painful as it is to come to terms with that, everything happens for a reason. That reason is not in his grasp and something he’ll have to deal with. Now that he is dead, he has to accept the fact that Blackrock will fall and he’ll never have a reason why his kingdom would fall, but sometimes, there are some things that he is never meant to know.

_______

Extra notes:

Here are song other songs on the album that I like a lot!

You and Me

Who You Are ⭐️

Hymn for Scarecrow⭐️

Turn the Lights Off

Misery Fell

#block tales #cruel king block tales #cruel king #block tales cruel king #blox tales #tally hall #roblox #never meant to know #i finally finished this #This was hard to draw due to the angle #I may make more art based on Tally Hall music

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weirdrtvscomments · 8 months ago

Note

in case anyone is struggling with deciding who they want to vote for in the RTVStan/RTVS Nation/RTVSia/RTVS Topia/RTVS Topia-Ville presidential election, i have compiled a list:

Log

Representing the Ethernet Party: “A people with 5 ping to the main server is a people that prospers.”

Will change the name to RTVS Nation

Comic books are a part of the platform

Everybody gets a free moat

Eyes that are twice as big for everyone that wants them

Offload cost to Wifi users

Working on a battery charged snack

Hypnotist is a protected class

Robloxia war veteran

Defenses are proven

Will take your ants and import more

Endorsed by: Soulja Boy, Ken Masters, Stitch

Signature move when President: Snake Trick (no weaknesses)

Punishment for other candidates: Follow him out & about like an RPG party

Mike

Representing the Sweets & Treats Party: “I was just outside eating a sandwich.”

Orange creamsicles will be available in every store

Free Steam Deck for every American citizen

Will lower tariffs and imports on all types of sweets and treats from Canada, while raising tariffs on everything else

Most important snack is Wasabi Peas

Not very good against zoners

Why are ants so bad?

Endorsed by: 2 (anonymous), Trap Snax

Signature gimmick when President: Whenever he eats a yummy piece of candy he gets an install, which gets its own theme

Special move when President: A cool punch like Marissa from Street Fighter 6

Punishment for other candidates: Have to reach into a bin of Bean Boozled that's 90% gross ones and eat it in public in front of cameras and the press. After, push into the alligator moat. Also, Mira’s idea

Mira

Representing the Drinks & Eats party: “I was rooting around in a dumpster out back.”

Will change the name to RTVSia

One of every food and drink, free of charge

Will develop a chemical compound called “Ketracel White,” will genetically engineer ants to be dependent on it

Endorsed by: IceFrog, Yoshi, Yoshi (from Mario), baby Yoshi (might be one and the same), Chun Lee

Signature move(s) when President: Level up system (up to 3), if she gets knocked down she loses a charge of it, gets it when she does some power up move (or something), negative edge inputs (landmine, fireball, that one thing Bison does in Street Fighter 5), install where she gets a command grab, 8-way air dash, guard impact, levels reset between rounds, invincible super (can do it on wakeup)

Punishment for other candidates: Detractors rounded up and taken into woods where they are given a knife, camera, and laptop to make a Youtube channel of them living in the woods (Ethernet in the trees)

Trog

Representing the People’s Choice Freedom Integrity Liberty Justice Prosperity Sovereign Citizen’s Ethical Governance Democratic Renewal Global Sustainability Citizens for Unity (may be part of the Lego Star Wars Party): “We’re all part of God’s nation in my eyes.”

All breakfast restaurants have to be open for lunch & dinner in addition to breakfast

THEY HAVE TO GIVE YOU A LARGE WATER WHEN YOU ASK FOR IT

Desegregate PornHub and GayTube

Everybody gets a free castle

Immediately cease all snack exports

Will start war with Canada

Will mail a bomb if you want him to

Will double your ants and give them to the next guy OR will turn them all into 1 big ant

New category on PornHub for ants

Will build death robots and a spaceship

Will be inventing gorgons, griffins, vampires, Frankenstiens, zombies, mummies, insects, gorgon ants (small)

Endorsed by: The Sims, Captain Video, Half Life 2: Lost Coast (demo), Tobuscus

Super move when President: 1 Sphinx on every tile surrounding, +1 food, +1 culture (if next to a river, +2 food, +2 culture instead)

Theme song: Steppin’ Out by Joe Jackson

Punishment for other candidates: All other candidates have to do an embarrassing pose and gaze into Medusa’s eyes, which will turn them into stone. The statues will be put in front of the White House, where during a nation-wide celebration they will be knocked down with a wrecking ball/individually destroyed with dirty bombs

Wayneradiotv/Wayne John

Representing the California Milk Processors Board: “Enjoy DOGh.”

Every gallon of milk will have $2,000 in it

Free PornHub premium

Any dairy product you want whenever you want it

Will attract more ants

Will rename it to Milk Nation

Pig milk Iron Fist

Endorsed by: Britney Spears, Beyonce, Rhianna, Serena Williams, Venus Williams, Shaquille O’Neal, Harrison Ford (all branded with Permanent Milk Mustache & committed their eternal lives), Batman, Mario, Spongebob

Signature move when President: Cow army that walks on their hind legs and shoot milk as projectiles

Punishment for other candidates: Mulched into feed for his cows

Things you need to rememer for the ONLY ELECTION THAT MATTERS!!!!

#rtvs #election 2024 #presidential election #election season

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juju-or-anya · 1 year ago

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It's hard not to find irony in the criticisms directed towards Eloise Bridgerton and the elevation of Penelope Featherington as a more genuine and hardworking figure in contrast with Eloise's supposed privileged circumstances and her discourse on feminism. Indeed, some voices have pointed out Eloise's feminism as something white and privileged, and while this is not without merit, it's akin to rediscovering what others have already noticed, akin to Christopher Columbus "discovering" America.

Understanding the context in which "Bridgerton" unfolds is essential. The series is set in Regency England, between 1813 and 1825. This historical period is marked by a highly stratified and conservative society, where women, especially those of the upper class, were relegated to traditional roles and lacked basic legal rights. In this context, any discussion of feminism must consider the unique limitations and challenges of the time.

It is true that Eloise Bridgerton, being part of a respected family in English nobility, embodies many of the characteristics associated with the white and privileged feminism of the time. However, this should not diminish the value of her role in advancing feminist ideas in her historical context. It is thanks to women like Eloise, who challenged social expectations and dared to question the status quo, that doors were opened for future, more inclusive feminist movements.

On the other hand, when analyzing Penelope Featherington's role in contrast with Eloise Bridgerton's, intriguing nuances worthy of a more detailed critical exploration are revealed. Although both come from upper-class families, Penelope's experiences differ significantly from Eloise's. In the society depicted in "Bridgerton," Penelope is portrayed as a more marginal figure, overshadowed by the prominence and glamour of the Bridgerton family. She is often seen in the background, struggling to find her place in a world where her social status does not put her at the center of attention.

Throughout the series, Penelope exhibits a distressing lack of empathy and solidarity towards other women. Instead of fostering unity and support among her peers, her writings are propelled by feelings of envy, resentment, and desires for revenge. Striking examples of this include her actions to publicly reveal Marina Thompson's pregnancy, intending to undermine her relationship with Colin Bridgerton, or defaming individuals such as Daphne, Edwina, and Kate Sharma, often with no apparent reason other than personal gain.

Penelope's behavior as Lady Whistledown sheds light on her complex nature and motivations. While it may represent an attempt to find her voice in a world dominated by more powerful figures, it also reveals a tendency towards manipulation and selfishness. Ultimately, her role as the mysterious chronicler is more than just a quest for identity; it is a reflection of the moral and ethical complexities underlying the society of "Bridgerton."

In summary, asserting that Penelope is more feminist and hardworking than Eloise due to her role as Lady Whistledown is, at best, simplistic and, at worst, deeply misleading. Both women, while privileged in their own right, have chosen different paths in life and have faced their own challenges. However, the narrative of Penelope as a morally superior and more genuinely hardworking figure should be questioned in light of her actions and motivations, which often reveal a lack of integrity and empathy towards her peers.

It's important to note that when Theo confronts Eloise, questioning her understanding of the real world and her privileged position, Eloise doesn't reject this criticism but uses it as a catalyst to seek greater understanding. Recognizing the validity of Theo's observation, Eloise actively seeks to broaden her horizons. She engages in conversations with Theo and John, seeking to break free from the bubble of privilege in which she has lived so far.

On the other hand, Penelope takes a different stance towards her own privileged position. Instead of acknowledging her situation and seeking to understand the realities of those less privileged, Penelope vehemently denies any suggestion that she also benefits from the system. Rather than accepting her position of privilege, she portrays herself as a victim, despite her actions suggesting otherwise. Ultimately, this divergence in attitudes between Eloise and Penelope highlights the complexity of individual perceptions of privilege and personal responsibility in an unequal world.

PS: The comment: "Penelope saved Eloise by writing that she hung out with radicals, she doesn't know what it's like to be grateful" is shit. Whose fucking fault is it that the Queen is on a crusade with torches and pitchforks, looking for blood and a rolling head? From Penelope because she doesn't know when to keep her hand still and stop writing, if it weren't for Penelope, the queen wouldn't think that Eloise is Lady Whistledown, Penelope wasn't looking to help Eloise, she was looking to save her skin.

#anti penelope featherington #penelope featherington #eloise bridgerton #the bridgertons #bridgerton #theo sharpe #I swear I'm going to cry if I read again that Penelope is an icon of feminism and women's empowerment #Eloise does not deserve all the hate they are giving her #I do want Eloise and Theo to be together forever.#Because they love each other and would be very happy together #marina thompson #madame delacroix

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mostlysignssomeportents · 1 year ago

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The Pizzaburger Presidency

For the rest of May, my bestselling solarpunk utopian novel THE LOST CAUSE (2023) is available as a $2.99, DRM-free ebook!

The corporate wing of the Democrats has objectively terrible political instincts, because the corporate wing of the Dems wants things that are very unpopular with the electorate (this is a trait they share with the Republican establishment).

Remember Hillary Clinton's unimaginably terrible campaign slogan, "America is already great?" In other words, "Vote for me if you believe that nothing needs to change":

https://twitter.com/HillaryClinton/status/758501814945869824

Biden picked up the "This is fine" messaging where Clinton left off, promising that "nothing would fundamentally change" if he became president:

https://www.salon.com/2019/06/19/joe-biden-to-rich-donors-nothing-would-fundamentally-change-if-hes-elected/

Biden didn't so much win that election as Trump lost it, by doing extremely unpopular things, including badly bungling the American covid response and killing about a million people.

Biden's 2020 election victory was a squeaker, and it was absolutely dependent on compromising with the party's left wing, embodied by the Warren and Sanders campaigns. The Unity Task Force promised – and delivered – key appointments and policies that represented serious and powerful change for the better:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/10/thanks-obama/#triangulation

Despite these excellent appointments and policies, the Biden administration has remained unpopular and is heading into the 2024 election with worryingly poor numbers. There is a lot of debate about why this might be. It's undeniable that every leader who has presided over a period of inflation, irrespective of political tendency, is facing extreme defenstration, from Rishi Sunak, the far-right prime minister of the UK, to the relentlessly centrist Justin Trudeau in Canada:

https://prospect.org/politics/2024-05-29-three-barriers-biden-reelection/

It's also true that Biden has presided over a genocide, which he has been proudly and significantly complicit in. That Trump would have done the same or worse is beside the point. A political leader who does things that the voters deplore can't expect to become more popular, though perhaps they can pull off less unpopular:

https://www.hamiltonnolan.com/p/the-left-is-not-joe-bidens-problem

Biden may be attracting unfair blame for inflation, and totally fair blame for genocide, but in addition to those problems, there's this: Biden hasn't gotten credit for the actual good things he's done:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FoflHnGrCpM

Writing in his newsletter, Matt Stoller offers an explanation for this lack of credit: the Biden White House almost never talks about any of these triumphs, even the bold, generational ones that will significantly alter the political landscape no matter who wins the next election:

https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/why-does-the-biden-white-house-hate

Biden's antitrust enforcers have gone after price-fixing in oil, food and rent – the three largest sources of voter cost-of-living concern. They've done more on these three kinds of crime than all of their predecessors over the past forty years, combined. And yet, Stoller finds example after example of White House press secretaries being lobbed softballs by the press and refusing to even try to swing at them. When asked about any of this stuff, the White House demurs, refusing to comment.

The reasons they give for this is that they don't want to mess up an active case while it's before the courts. But that's not how this works. Yes, misstatements about active cases can do serious damage, but not talking about cases extinguishes the political will needed to carry them out. That's why a competent press secretary excellent briefings and training, because they must talk about these cases.

Think for a moment about the fact that the US government is – at this very moment – trying to break up Google, the largest tech company in the history of the world, and there has been virtually no press about it. This is a gigantic story. It's literally the biggest business story ever. It's practically a secret.

Why doesn't the Biden admin want to talk about this very small number of very good things it's doing? To understand that, you have to understand the hollowness of "centrist" politics as practiced in the Democratic Party.

The Democrats, like all political parties, are a coalition. Now, there are lots of ways to keep a coalition together. Parties who detest one another can stay in coalition provided that each partner is getting something they want out of it – even if one partner is bitterly unhappy about everything else happening in the coalition. That's the present-day Democratic approach: arrest students, bomb Gaza, but promise to do something about abortion and a few other issues while gesturing with real and justified alarm at Trump's open fascism, and hope that the party's left turns out at the polls this fall.

Leaders who play this game can't announce that they are deliberately making a vital coalition partner miserable and furious. Instead, they insist that they are "compromising" and point to the fact that "everyone is equally unhappy" with the way things are going.

This school of politics – "Everyone is angry at me, therefore I am doing something right" – has a name, courtesy of Anat Shenker-Osorio: "Pizzaburger politics." Say half your family wants burgers for dinner and the other half wants pizza: make a pizzaburger and disappoint all of them, and declare yourself to be a politics genius:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/17/pizzaburgers/

But Biden's Pizzaburger Presidency doesn't disappoint everyone equally. Sure, Biden appointed some brilliant antitrust enforcers to begin the long project of smashing the corporate juggernauts built through forty years of Reaganomics (including the Reganomics of Bill Clinton and Obama). But his lifetime federal judicial appointments are drawn heavily from the corporate wing of the party's darlings, and those judges will spend the rest of their lives ruling against the kinds of enforcers Biden put in charge of the FTC and DoJ antitrust division:

https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/judge-rules-for-microsoft-mergers

So that's one reason that Biden's comms team won't talk about his most successful and popular policies. But there's another reason: schismogenesis.

"Schismogenesis" is a anthropological concept describing how groups define themselves in opposition to their opponents (if they're for it, we're against it). Think of the liberals who became cheerleaders for the "intelligence community" (you know the CIA spies who organized murderous coups against a dozen Latin American democracies, and the FBI agents who tried to get MLK to kill himself) as soon as Trump and his allies began to rail against them:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/12/18/schizmogenesis/

Part of Trump's takeover of conservativism is a revival of "the paranoid style" of the American right – the conspiratorial, unhinged apocalyptic rhetoric that the movement's leaders are no longer capable of keeping a lid on:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/16/that-boy-aint-right/#dinos-rinos-and-dunnos

This stuff – the lizard-people/Bilderberg/blood libel/antisemitic/Great Replacement/race realist/gender critical whackadoodlery – was always in conservative rhetoric, but it was reserved for internal communications, a way to talk to low-information voters in private forums. It wasn't supposed to make it into your campaign ads:

https://www.statesman.com/story/news/politics/elections/2024/05/27/texas-republicans-adopts-conservative-wish-list-for-the-2024-platform/73858798007/

Today's conservative vibe is all about saying the quiet part aloud. Historian Rick Perlstein calls this the "authoritarian ratchet": conservativism promises a return to a "prelapsarian" state, before the country lost its way:

https://prospect.org/politics/2024-05-29-my-political-depression-problem/

This is presented as imperative: unless we restore that mythical order, the country is doomed. We might just be the last generation of free Americans!

But that state never existed, and can never be recovered, but it doesn't matter. When conservatives lose a fight they declare to be existential (say, trans bathroom bans), they just pretend they never cared about it and move on to the next panic.

It's actually worse for them when they win. When the GOP repeals Roe, or takes the Presidency, the Senate and Congress, and still fails to restore that lost glory, then they have to find someone or something to blame. They turn on themselves, purging their ranks, promise ever-more-unhinged policies that will finally restore the state that never existed.

This is where schismogenesis comes in. If the GOP is making big, bold promises, then a shismogenesis-poisoned liberal will insist that the Dems must be "the party of normal." If the GOP's radical wing is taking the upper hand, then the Dems must be the party whose radical wing is marginalized (see also: UK Labour).

This is the trap of schismogenesis. It's possible for the things your opponents do to be wrong, but tactically sound (like promising the big changes that voters want). The difference you should seek to establish between yourself and your enemies isn't in promising to maintaining the status quo – it's in promising to make better, big muscular changes, and keeping those promises.

It's possible to acknowledge that an odious institution to do something good – like the CIA and FBI trying to wrongfoot Trump's most unhinged policies – without becoming a stan for that institution, and without abandoning your stance that the institution should either be root-and-branch reformed or abolished altogether.

The mere fact that your enemy uses a sound tactic to do something bad doesn't make that tactic invalid. As Naomi Klein writes in her magnificent Doppelganger, the right's genius is in co-opting progressive rhetoric and making it mean the opposite: think of their ownership of "fake news" or the equivalence of transphobia with feminism, of opposition to genocide with antisemitism:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/05/not-that-naomi/#if-the-naomi-be-klein-youre-doing-just-fine

Promising bold policies and then talking about them in plain language at every opportunity is something demagogues do, but having bold policies and talking about them doesn't make you a demagogue.

The reason demagogues talk that way is that it works. It captures the interest of potential followers, and keeps existing followers excited about the project.

Choosing not to do these things is political suicide. Good politics aren't boring. They're exciting. The fact that Republicans use eschatological rhetoric to motivate crazed insurrectionists who think they're the last hope for a good future doesn't change the fact that we are at a critical juncture for a survivable future.

If the GOP wins this coming election – or when Pierre Poilievre's petro-tories win the next Canadian election – they will do everything they can to set the planet on fire and render it permanently uninhabitable by humans and other animals. We are running out of time.

We can't afford to cede this ground to the right. Remember the clickbait wars? Low-quality websites and Facebook accounts got really good at ginning up misleading, compelling headlines that attracted a lot of monetizable clicks.

For a certain kind of online scolding centrist, the lesson from this era was that headlines should a) be boring and b) not leave out any salient fact. This is very bad headline-writing advice. While it claims to be in service to thoughtfulness and nuance, it misses out on the most important nuance of all: there's a difference between a misleading headline and a headline that calls out the most salient element of the story and then fleshes that out with more detail in the body of the article. If a headline completely summarizes the article, it's not a headline, it's an abstract.

Biden's comms team isn't bragging about the administration's accomplishments, because the senior partners in this coalition oppose those accomplishments. They don't want to win an election based on the promise to prosecute and anti-corporate revolution, because they are counter-revolutionaries.

The Democratic coalition has some irredeemably terrible elements. It also has elements that I would march into the sun for. The party itself is a very weak institution that's bad at resolving the tension between both groups:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/30/weak-institutions/

Pizzaburgers don't make anyone happy and they're not supposed to. They're a convenient cover for the winners of intraparty struggles to keep the losers from staying home on election day. I don't know how Biden can win this coming election, but I know how he can lose it: keep on reminding us that all the good things about his administration were undertaken reluctantly and could be jettisoned in a second Biden administration.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/29/sub-bushel-comms-strategy/#nothing-would-fundamentally-change

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shizuturnspages · 2 months ago

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Hello Shizumi! I had this idea bouncing around in my head. How would a yandere Ayato treat a Mondstadter darling who still hold onto Mondstadt's ideals of freedom? I'll leave the context of the relationship up to you but I'll pitch some ideas. Maybe this started off as a political marriage between an Influential family in Mondstadt and the Kamisato Clan? Or maybe he took a liking to a tourist and decided that you're not leaving. Would he try to "unteach" that culture of freedom for lack of a better word? I know he puts a lot of importance on loyalty and all...

Bound by Silk, Not Wind

Synopsis: You were meant to be a symbol of unity—an arranged match between the prestigious Kamisato Clan and a respected Mondstadt house. A bridge between nations, tied together in ceremony and status. But Ayato never saw you as a mere political token. You, who walked with the wind at your back and freedom in your voice, became a dangerous temptation. And Ayato, bound by duty but ruled by quiet obsession, begins a subtle campaign to rewrite the very core of who you are. Because in his world, there’s no room for wind. Only water, silk, and strings that bind. Pairing: Yandere Ayato x Monstadter Reader

The relationship had begun like a carefully composed poem—ornate, calculated, every word chosen for elegance rather than truth. As the firstborn of a long-standing Mondstadt family with deep ties to the Church of Favonius, your hand was promised to Kamisato Ayato in a marriage meant to symbolise growing alliances between Mondstadt and Inazuma.

And you, ever the embodiment of freedom and wanderlust, loathed the cage it offered.

Ayato saw it from the beginning. He noticed it in the way you bowed only half-heartedly, how you smiled at him with all the politeness expected of you but none of the reverence. The wind still followed you. It rustled through your hair, clung to your scent, and made your steps too light for his liking. You were not his. Not yet.

Ayato had never been impulsive. He was the storm behind glass—calculated, reserved, deadly when provoked. But your very presence stirred something primal. The way you spoke of Mondstadt—its songs, its independence, its gods—like it was the only true form of life… it irked him. Not because you were wrong, but because you were far too convincing.

“You cling to an illusion,” he told you one night, pouring himself tea while watching you dance barefoot across the estate’s balcony, wind tickling the hems of your robe. “Freedom, when left unchecked, becomes chaos. And chaos breaks families. Kingdoms. Hearts.”

You had only smiled then, turning your back on him. “Maybe so. But it also writes poems. Inspires revolutions. And lets people love without permission.”

That was the moment Ayato knew.

You would need to be untaught.

At first, it began with silk. He replaced your Mondstadt wardrobe with garments embroidered in the Kamisato style—sleeves that draped like water, high collars that reminded you of shackles disguised as elegance. You resisted. Of course, you did.

So he burned the ones you loved most.

He never raised his voice. Never threatened. But one day, your favourite teal Mondstadt cloak was gone, and in its place was a message etched into a tea tray: You look best when you belong here.

Then came the language. Letters you tried to send home mysteriously vanished. Messages returned with no reply. Your language, your songs, your prayers to Barbatos—slowly, gently, he erased them from the estate’s halls.

“I will not stop you from worshipping your god,” he told you with a faint smile. “But here, in my home, he cannot hear you.”

And then came loyalty. It started small. Public appearances where he insisted you walk a step behind him. Servants who watched your every move. A new maid from Mondstadt who mysteriously disappeared after “sneaking you a hymn.”

You began to understand: this was not marriage. It was captivity under the mask of companionship.

Still, you resisted. You spoke of rebellion over dinner, of freedom between breaths, of escape in your sleep. And Ayato, to his credit, never flinched.

He only waited.

“I love you,” he told you one day as you stood by the koi pond, your hands trembling.

“No, you love owning me,” you whispered.

His hands came to rest on your shoulders, deceptively soft. “I love the idea of what you could become—if only you stopped running toward the wind.”

You trembled at his words, because even then—even then—you found yourself questioning the sky.

And that’s what Ayato wanted.

He didn’t need you to be happy. He only needed you to stop dreaming of going home. Because in his world, you didn’t belong to Barbatos or the wind anymore.

You belonged to him.

And he would teach you, every single day, to forget the difference.

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girlactionfigure · 4 months ago

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humiliation and the Jewish dhimmi

FEBRUARY 27, 2025

"Haj Muhammad Said al-Husseini, the mufti of Gaza, issued a fatwa against land sales to Jews arguing that, as a result of Zionism, the Jews had lost their status as dhimmi or wards of Islam and any Muslim or Christian who hekped them would be regarded as an apostate or infidel. In 1935 the first ulama or gathering of Muslim religious scholars issued a similar fatwa."

- "1948 as Jihad" by Benny Morris

WHAT IS A DHIMMI?

Following Muhammad’s death in 632, the Arab Islamic empires conquered lands exponentially quickly. As a result of this rapid colonization, the Muslim authorities were faced with the “problem” of how to handle the conquered Indigenous peoples that resisted conversion to Islam.

This “problem” was solved with a treaty known as the Pact of Umar. This so-called treaty allowed select religious and cultural minorities (known as “People of the Book”) to practice their beliefs so long as they paid the “jizya” tax and abided by a set of restrictive, second-class citizenship laws.

Apologists for dhimmitude often whitewash this status, noting that it afforded minorities “protection.” But paying someone so that they don’t kill you is not protection; it’s extortion.

The Ottoman Empire did not abolish dhimmi status until 1856, though it’s worth noting that even then, Jews were still not entirely equal under the law. Most notably, Jews were restricted from certain land purchases and from a number of activities at the Western Wall, including blowing the shofar, bringing chairs or Jewish ritual objects, and speaking or praying loudly.

DHIMMI LAWS

Jews were forbidden from building new synagogues. Synagogues could not be taller than mosques and the homes of Jews could not be taller than the homes of Muslims. Jews could not raise their voices during Muslim prayer times. Jewish children could not be taught the Quran. Jewish funerals had to be quiet and Jews could not be buried near Muslims. Jews had to show deference to Muslims; for example, if a Muslim wished to sit where a Jew was sitting, the Jewish person had to give up their seat. Muslims were prohibited from converting to Judaism. Jews had to dress differently than Muslims. Jews had to wear identifying yellow belts or turbans and had to cut off their sidelocks. Jews could not ride the same animals as Muslims and could not use a saddle. Jews were forbidden from taking Muslim titles. Jews could not own weapons. Jews had to host Muslim passerbys for 3 days. Jews could not govern, lead, or employ Muslims. Jews could not buy a Muslim prisoner or slaves who had been allotted to Muslims. Jews could not engrave Arabic inscriptions on signet seals. Jewish witnesses were not admissible in court. Jews were subject to a “jizya” tax. Jews could not join the military or work for the government. When harmed by a Muslim, Jews had to purchase Muslim witnesses, which left Jews with virtually no legal recourse. Jews could not marry a Muslim woman. Jews could not criticize Islam or the Quran on penalty of death.

THE IDEOLOGY OF HAMAS

Hamas is an Islamist terrorist group. Islamists believe that the doctrines of the religion of Islam should be congruent with those of the state. Islamists work to implement nation-states governed under Islamic Law (Sharia), emphasize pan-Islamic unity (in most cases, hoping for an eventual worldwide Islamic Caliphate, or empire), support the creation of Islamic theocracies, and reject all non-Muslim influences.

Islamist ideology can be traced back to Hassan al-Banna and the Muslim Brotherhood, founded in 1928. Al-Banna viewed the 1924 dissolution of the last Islamic Caliphate, the Ottoman Empire, and the European colonization of the Middle East, beginning with France’s 1830 occupation of Algeria, as an affront to Islam. The early 20th century was a period of rapid secularization in the Middle East, when Arab nationalism threatened to replace pan-Islamic identity with a pan-Arab identity. Al-Banna opposed all of this, hoping to return to “authentic” Islamic practice through the (re)establishment of the Islamic Caliphate.

Hamas emerged as the Palestinian branch of the Muslim Brotherhood. Hamas, too, seeks to return to “authentic Islamic practice,” as outlined in their original Charter. By this they mean, essentially, that they wish to go back in time, to a time when Jews were dhimmis.

"Hamas did not hold their 'ceremony' for hostage Hisham Al-Sayed 'out of respect for the Bedouin-Israeli community': it was out of disrespect for the Jews. Their shame-honor culture dictates that only 'dhimmi' Jews get to be humiliated. This is why the coffins of the murdered hostages were designed with special handles to be carried at 'foot level,' rather than the usual ones intended to be carried at 'shoulder level': the Jew must always be reminded that he is inferior."

- Lyn Julius, author of Uprooted: How 3000 Years of Jewish Civilization in the Arab World Vanished Overnight

HUMILIATION AND THE DHIMMI

Dhimmi laws were inherently humiliating, in that they reminded dhimmis of their inferior status in society. For example, dhimmis had to show deference to Muslims, dress distinctively, and more.

While the Quran itself does not proscribe “humiliating treatment” along with the payment of the jizya tax, historically, Muslim empires largely humiliated their dhimmi subjects during tax collection. For example, in the 16th century, Islamic scholar Ahmad Sirhindi wrote, “The real purpose of levying jiziya on them is to humiliate them to such an extent that they may not be able to dress well and to live in grandeur. They should constantly remain terrified and trembling. It is intended to hold them under contempt and to uphold the honor and might of Islam.”

In some places, Jewish dhimmis were forced to carry out humiliating acts; for example, in Yemen, Jews were made to clean excrement.

Oftentimes, dhimmis were forced to pay the jizya tax on foot, rather than on horse, so that they would be reminded of their lower status.

For a full bibliography of my sources, please head over to my Instagram and Patreon.

rootsmetals

let’s talk about what those perverse, degrading hostage release ceremonies are actually about.

#Jewish dhimmi

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jungwondazed · 10 months ago

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a kingdom by the forest

themes: historical forbidden love, royals and nobles, angst, sworn enemies, and slow burn.

warnings: NSFW WARNING for future parts, SFW for this chapter. not 100% historically accurate.

heeseung x reader; word count: 7.8k

PART ONE.

he had never captured her attention, not within the years of knowing each other through family rivalries, let alone in the middle of this village where he so happened to bump into her without notice.

she scoffed, head still turned around towards him as he walked away never looking back, disappearing into the large crowd of civilians.

the noble families throughout the land were fiercely competitive with one another. with hardly any room for friendly connections or conversation, the king’s opinion and words were the only ones that were valued. the royal family ruled the nations with an authoritative form of government, causing tensions to rise throughout the centuries.

once a year, the king hosted a grand summer celebration in his palace to celebrate the death of his queen. families from all different ranks and nations gathered together in respect to the royal family. the queen’s last wish was to bring back the once-chivalrous nature of this civilization.

nobles showed up with smiles and polite greetings but the glances and gazes around the room revealed everyone’s true jealous nature. the idea of unity between the aristocratic families in this lifetime was impossible, as parents taught their children to stay far away from those with a certain surname and if any of that is disobeyed the price to pay was never worth it.

heeseung was seen across the room, standing behind his mother and father, and side by side with his younger siblings. as the eldest son, he was held to an impossible standard that seeing how stoic and emotionless he was, came to no surprise. his family was highly respected and had a kind of wealth that wouldn’t run out for generations. working closely with the king during the war all those years ago earned them great status and appreciation from the everyday citizens.

he found a celebration like this superficial, scowling at how anyone’s death would warrant hundreds of people gathering together for drinks and dancing. if he was ever found dead and his loved ones threw a party for every passing year, he’d haunt them in their sleep. as his gaze scanned the room, he paused at the sight of her. heeseung mildly recalled bumping into her a few days ago and the obnoxious reaction that came out of it. the amusing part was he didn’t even notice her furrowed brows and disgusted gaze from the corner of his eye until he heard that dramatic scoff. that was the most attention she had ever given him, and it was strange that her presence at this celebration brought him to think of that moment. because it didn’t matter what her reaction was, none of it mattered at all as he was raised to keep his distance at best and think horribly of her at worst. heeseung’s face remained still when her gaze met his, and she quickly looked away with annoyance.

she was bored of these parties from the king, if it wasn’t a celebration for one thing it was for another. there was a grand gathering every few weeks and it did nothing to change the relations between the noble families. after complaining to her mother about yet another celebration of the queen’s death, one that she had been going to since childhood, her mother simply pulled at her hair a bit tighter than necessary to secure her up-do, before hissing in her ear that this was an honor.

sneaking off into the queen’s garden, she sat alongside the pond where she gazed at her reflection in the water. being the youngest daughter was miserable and boring. some would title it “the invisible child,” with all her older brothers being the center of attention at all times. due to their high status of being aristocrats, school was in her room at her desk with a hired private tutor. friends were not an option and the most conversation she got out of anyone by her age was telling a kid it was okay when they ran into her. loneliness was agonizing and she had fallen victim to it.

the fake laughter and string music coming from inside the palace was muffled, with the air’s gentle breeze being the only thing louder than the party. as she got lost in thought, a branch snapped to her left and her head immediately turned to the foreign sound. with her hyper awareness tuning into what that noise could have came from, only a cricket from a distance.

heeseung’s silohette comes from under the blossom tree and he holds back a laugh from the look on her face. the terror she displayed was amusing but giving her the reaction of anything near positive wasn’t something he would be able to do.

her shoulder’s drop, realizing that it wasn’t a secret asssassin that her brothers have scared her into believing her entire life and she immediately stands up to defend her spot being there first.

“you’re not supposed to be here,”

she wasn’t supposed to be speaking to him at all he says inside his head before he rolling his eyes and swatting his hand, ushering her to stop talking as he took a seat on a bench near the pond.

heeseung seemed unbothered by the encounter, getting lost in thought as he already had his pile of problems. the daughter of his family’s enemies were the least of his concerns, and if he had a bit more energy in him he would’ve just walked away and found his other usual spot. but with being around his family where looks and status mattered the most, things that meant absolutely nothing to him, the life was drained from his face and his eyes were as somber as ever. he rarely left his parent’s side at occasions like these and to spot him all alone, away from the crowd was a sight to see.

with no verbal response from heeseung, staring at him for a few minutes still in that same spot she grounded her feet in, she shakes her head before quietly leaving.

as the months passed and more gatherings were hosted by the king, heeseung and her formed a mutual respect where both would leave each other alone in the queen’s garden. there was perhaps a silent bond between the two where an escape from family matters meant a moment of tranquility. to her knowledge, none of this was against the rules as there was no form of contact. she tossed and turned and lost more sleep than usual as she meddled with this inner conflict. even though there was no acknowledgment let alone talking going on, the mere respect of one another’s space was still uncomfortable.

on a cold december the week before the winter ceremony, she set off into the village to gather gifts to bring for the king’s staff. giving back her thanks and appreciation to those who worked below the royals and nobles was something her parents wanted no involvement in as charity was highly frowned upon in such a high-class family. the constant clashing with her and her family’s beliefs forced her to sneak behind their back for lots of reasons, and buying gifts from the townspeople was certainly one of them.

with the lower half of her face covered with a small scarf, she purchases small items and fruit as gifts. bracelets that brought good luck and promised safety for the new year was one of her favorites to purchase, as she believed everyone deserved a bit of good fortune, rich or poor. as she made her way to the next stall of goods, smiling behind the thin cloth, she hears a roar of screams at a distance behind her. dropping the bracelet that was in her head like a knee jerk reaction, her eyes squint at a distance to make out where such screams could be coming from. there was never any trouble in the village this way, and it could have possibly been neighborhood kids fooling around on this busy day. but the blood rushing to her ears and the hair standing on her arms told the true horror of those screams, as they were far from screams of amusement.

bodies upon bodies come running in her direction, with civilians collapsing on one another, mothers grabbing their children and tripping, and elderly getting pushed and trampled on, all trying to make their way from the gathering of black horses ridden by men covered in masks with swords the length of their statures.

her breath hitches as she finally catches sight of the slaughter, feet barely picking up to run backward before her arm is grabbed and pulled away from the direction everyone was trying to get to.

the burning in her lungs feels like a blade to the chest, cold icy wind smacking her and she’s almost choking on the fabric that was meant to hide her appearance. they had been running for a few minutes and her adrenaline was wearing off, causing her to abruptly stop at one of the trees.

“w-what are you doing and where are we going we have to go back to help them-” she pants and heeseung comes to a halt, letting out a grunt of frustration as he catches his own breath and scans their surroundings. the forest was eerily quiet apart from the terror that was becoming distant from fleeing.

he towers over her, only a drip of sweat is spotted on his forehead as the winter air blows against them both. beginning to open his mouth before closing it again, he shakes his head and pulls her to run further along.

the terrain is rough beneath her feet and she thinks she might fall face flat if not for him dragging her up every time she almost slightly trips. there was a ringing she could hear that she couldn’t quite comprehend. whether it was the gushes of wind slicing past her ear or the thought processes firing from the sheer amount of horror she witnessed back there, her legs ripped from the constant spriting and she thought she could give it all up right there and then.

within another half mile, the two made it to the edge of the forest where she could slightly make out the massive palace they were both all too used to. what intrigues her is how he managed to navigate his way to the palace, as there was never a path on government-made maps that took you directly to the king’s square from that village. what troubled her more was why anyone would go through the forest for any form of shortcut, as her parents always warned her to stay on the carved-out paths.

at the gates, she has a widespread view of government officials and kingdom servants chaotically running around. shouting between one another when the king’s square was renowned for its charm and grandiosity, signaled that the recent mass killing in the village has caused disaster in the land.

heeseung pulls her along to sneak inside the palace, making their way into hallways located in a wing that she had never even heard of. ducking behind corners and statue monuments, he dragged her into a room at the end of the hall once the coast was clear. with the shutting of the door, the room turned almost black with just a bit of light left from the setting sun in the dark of winter, glimpsing through the one small window.

he finally catches his breath as his back presses against the wall and it is the only thing you can hear.

you stood there in silence, near impatience as your mind was trying to catch you up on what had just happened in the last hour. his firm grip on your wrist left a mark and you were sure that if you weren’t to rest soon your legs would give out.

tears threatened to prick your eyes as you recall the sounds and sight of men slashing bodies in two. in all your years of living here, there was never any violence or disruption. the land lived in peace since you were born and your entire life was at worst, glares from the other families. to see innocent civilians being murdered by masked men made your vision blurry and black, worrying for your own loved ones and at a complete lost as to where they are now.

you glanced over at heeseung and saw that he was troubled himself. his gaze was to the floor and he held in his terror well because if you hadn’t known what had happened you would’ve assumed he was just having his typical somber thoughts in the queen’s garden.

clearing your throat, you spoke up to finally break the silence.

“b-back there, what happened in the village, w-what happened back there and what was that? and why did you bring me here- and wh- what happens-“ you stopped when his eyes met yours and threw his head back against the wall, closing his eyes to take a deep inhale before opening them again.

“i don’t know.” he simply says, and it was the first time he’s ever spoken to you, you realize. and your face heats up in realization as you turn away to feign innocence from the bizarreness of it all. from the months of sharing spaces in the garden you never held a conversation let alone exchange any words with him.

you turn back to look at him and stop yourself from questioning anymore, as it seemed like the entire kingdom didn’t know either. you needed answers he probably didn’t have right now, like where your family was and where those men on horses came from. the land was surrounded by ocean and horses were only imported for the wealthy, having a horse for transportation was such a rarity that a storm of them coming into the middle of a village made no sense.

after a few quiet minutes and suddenly noticing the tapping of his foot on the floor, you realized how being alone in a room with one of your supposed sworn enemies was not a good look, and if anyone were to walk in and report to your family a massive shouting from your father was bound to happen. then again, was a scandal such as this any news as to what was going on out there? from the uproar in the front of the palace, there were surely no guards around checking in on rooms to hopefully catch someone who wasn’t supposed to be together. your face reddens at the idea of being caught and you almost wanna hide under the pillow as the scandalous nature of it all hits you. you had never been alone with a boy, let alone a boy from a family you were condemned to speak to. heeseung notices your fluster and shifts his gait to his other feet, clearing his throat to speak.

“i brought you here because if the men came from the southern part of town, it was dangerous to go back to our homes. the kingdom here is the most northern part and the only sanctuary we can stay in without endangering others. your head on a stick probably costs a thousand family’s lifetime savings and mine, even more. this is where we will stay for now-“

“but what about my family?” you let out, standing up in disbelief at the sudden hint of the southern part of the city being invaded. what could’ve possibly happened to mother, father, all your older siblings? you had no way of reaching out to them and this horrifies you into trying to leave the room before heeseung pulls back that same wrist he dragged you across the forest in. his grip is harsh around the tender joint’s and you pry his hands off with your other.

“you are not leaving. there is nothing you can do for yourself or for your family but wait. don’t jeopardize something when the best thing right now is to wait for the king’s orders.” he speaks harshly.

you ignore his comment and go for the door again which he shuts close. he was irritating in every way, how he handled you like you were someone he was close to, dragging you across the forest and forcing you to be here without a good enough explanation. giving you advice and suggestions as if either of you had the slightest clue what was going on. but despite his obnoxiousness he made a fair point, and storming out of the room would leave you standing outside the palace not knowing where to go next.

“trust me on this. and be thankful that i’m putting my differences aside to save your damn life right now-“

“i never asked for saving.” you interrupted him and stormed back into the bed, ending anymore kind of speaking between you two.

as morning peaks through the window you sit awake in the clothes from the previous day, hair still pulled up together with the pin in your hair. the tension at your scalp makes your head feel inflamed and you long for a hot bath in the coziness of your home bathroom. picking out the pin, your hair falls to your shoulders, and heeseung walks in the room with his clothes slightly undone, to which you assume he fell asleep on that small seating area across the bed.

once realizing you were well awake he strides to the end of your bed, giving you a scroll that he kept in his pocket.

“messages from the king that i collected from some of the officials this morning. everything out there is like hell.”

you blink at his words and note the frustration in his face, and the dark circles under his eyes. he let’s out a tired breath and runs his hand along his hair.

“the war from all those years ago when we were just children, the beginning of the war is rising again.” all of the blood that filled the veins in your face drained into a cold paleness. an unprecedented attack was surely not enough to dictate the beginning of war was it? were you too naive to see the struggles of the real world? was staying cooped in your family’s palace for years to shield you from the reality of all the nations?

“the kingdom is at risk of falling, and all the noble families are panicking. the king demands for all of them to gather here indefinitely.”

you read the words over and over on the scroll, in disbelief at how drastically everything changed in just a day. how people who hate each other can stand being in the same place all at once. would the darkness of war pressure these nobilities to hold each other’s hands and collaborate? will forceful teamwork end up breaking us apart even further?

“our families are here, and i’m sure they are expecting to see you soon. i would wash up and be on the way to them before another chaos uproars.”

to that, you nod and he makes his way out again, most likely going to his own family and you’re sure this is the last you guys will speak ever again. the first and last conversation with heeseung, was only for survival means. you can’t help but wonder where you would be right now if he wasn’t in the village at the same time as you. you can’t help but ponder if you would even be here at all. the thought of ever being in debt to someone you should have no ties with haunts you for the rest of the day, and you don’t notice the darkness of the night until you up in the middle of it.

the days ahead drag on as you are left in the dark while your family is in meetings from morning till sunrise, only making small talk with you and reminding you of your meals. the guest rooms assigned to each family are the size of a closet at everyone’s place back at their own home.

the loneliness you felt all your life creeps up again as you are isolated from the true horror outside these palace walls. for a few days, you were distracted by worry and what the plans are ahead, but with your family keeping you away from all these political endeavors you are left with the haunting feeling of isolation that you can’t even process it all in your own home. privacy was no longer a thing as you shared a room with your parents and siblings.

what terrifies you is how even in panic and confusion those few days ago, it felt better knowing anything, horrifying as it was, than nothing at all.

your hopes of this ending anytime soon are low, as the history you have been taught made you understand just how long the build-up of war is. being lectured on it was never enough to put the fear right in your body. seeing it for what it was in the flesh made you understand.

you spend the following weeks sneaking off into the room where you were first brought to, as you come to understand that no one stayed there and you wonder why. your mind started to question how he even knew of this place. for you to have absolutely no idea this wing even existed was telling, but for him to know of such a specific spot in this hidden area was another.

the idea of a promising noble son like him sneaking off into rooms that no others knew of made your face heat up and you cursed yourself at the thought of something like that. it wasn’t like you were being perverted, why else would anyone our age know about hidden rooms and corners? even though you weren’t supposed to, you read your fair share of entertainment from the restricted section of your family’s library. you were far from completely naive, and it was the only explanation that made sense. and that is exactly why and only why you would ever think of heeseung and private places in the same thought.

as the hours fly by, staring at the ceiling you don’t even notice the door open as heeseung storms inside, in pure anger from what it looks like, until he leans over the windowsill trying to catch his breath. his behavior takes you by surprise, having to hide your gasp behind your hand as he stands there fuming. the grip from his knuckles white and his chest rose up and down quickly. from all these months of noticing him, he has never worn an expression other than somber boredom, as if he was thinking about the answers to the universe’s questions all melancholicly. you couldn’t lie and wonder what he had to think about all the time, given that he had everything he could’ve ever asked for. the wealth, family, looks, pride, glory, whatever it is you could ever dream of he had. whatever hard time he was going through, you can’t imagine it being anything more complex than what kind of shoes he wants for the weekend.

as you sit there silently, your face reddens as you realize that you’ve been in the dark, the chances of you being there may have gone unnoticed by him. you clear your throat to which he softly startles and turns to your silhouette on that bed. he blinks rapidly, a feign glimpse of irritation fills his expression before he looks back at the window.

“what are you doing here?” he asks with an annoyed voice. you roll your eyes at his harshness and bite back an insult. teaching him a lesson about some manners would suit him right.

“i could ask you the same thing,” you bite back, hoping that would shut him up and leave you alone.

“i’m the one who showed you this room in the first place, and you’re asking me?”

your ears heat up and you quickly snap back at him.

“i found the garden first and yet i never gave you a hard time-“

he runs his hand through his hair and grunts in an irritating manner, before sitting down on the couch beside the window and getting lost in thought again.

his refusal to get into a superficial argument with you made you realize that perhaps you could’ve just answered him to his curiosity. your presence may have been unexpected as he did tell you about your family returning after all. maybe it was a bit rude of you to try bickering with him as he was evidently going through a rough time, god knows what it is, seeing as he’s always having a rough time. but perhaps this was a sign for you to step it back a bit and have some compassion, even if you weren’t supposed to like him, your heart wasn’t comfortable treating him as if he didn’t have feelings either.

even after you bumped heads with heeseung in the room, it didn’t stop you from coming, and it seems like it didn’t stop him either. it was like you both needed an escape. this was sort of like the queen’s garden, this is exactly what it was. you spent enough time there to know he treasured his dramatic thinking sessions just as much as you needed your alone time. but whatever his reasons were didn’t matter to you anyway, his business wasn’t yours and even keeping note of something like this made you shake your head and calm the heat from your face.

you couldn’t disregard how much you two have encountered one another these past few months, from the silent sitting in the garden together to this, and how you have grown to hate him less than you originally did. or maybe you still hate him and his existence was something you will have to tolerate if you wanted some peace for yourself. that peace being a room with four walls.

the painful realization of how much you were trying to rationalize being okay with his presence made you feel like you were reaching into danger territory, and that staying inside these walls for weeks was probably regressing your mental stability more than you thought. thinking about heeseung in any way was inappropriate, he was a stranger at best. he was a rival, an enemy, someone you aren’t supposed to speak to or have relations with. you didn’t speak to him much, so you were in a safe spot. you made note of this, you reassured yourself that whatever this was, was fine.

it makes you self-conscious, and over the next couple of days you’re hyper-aware of his presence in the room even if he is just simply sitting there sulking in his thoughts. your eyes sometimes glance over at him and you blame it on the boredom of this palace with absolutely nothing to do but ponder your relationships with your once sworn enemies.

you think he realizes the difference in behavior as he sometimes raises his brows when he makes eye contact with you in the room and your gaze quickly shifts somewhere else, pretending you weren’t looking in his direction at all.

you grow to spend your nights in that room too, sometimes falling asleep on the bed and waking up to see him still sleeping on that long couch. he was like a roommate almost, if this is even considered a decent living corridor. it had a full bathroom and a wardrobe. it was about the same size as your family’s current guest room. your excuse for staying here is that it’s a bigger space to stay, because what’s worse than having to share a room with your entire family? surely not heeseung? you ask yourself this question and get red when you realize your answer.

he sometimes brought you breakfast, almost every day now. you tell yourself that it had nothing to do with kindness and hospitality but something along the lines of duty, like not letting people starve. he only didn’t bring food when he had his eldest son duties and he didn’t show up at all that day. you started keeping track of when he showed up. wednesdays, fridays, saturdays, and sundays. and it was the end of thursday, and he was surely to show up tomorrow. of course the most you were looking forward to was the breakfast that would be laid out on the table, that was exactly why.

you made small talk, asking him for updates on what was going on and he insisted you shouldn’t know and to let everyone else handle it. maybe it was to keep yourself safe in this lonely room, away from the stress of the world. but you wanted to know more, and you insisted on it.

heeseung slowly told you bits and pieces here and there, but more surprisingly he grew to open up about his frustration, his stress. it first started with small complaints of “i just want this over with” to gradually telling you about his struggles with assisting the officials about the war. plans for civilian housing, emergency evacuation, things that you wouldn’t even want to dream about. he talks about how much he’s trying to hold it together, and how hard it’s weighing on him.

a small part of you can’t help but feel for him, in a way you have never before. that he’s just someone who’s your age with much higher stakes and responsibilities. and even if he was used to this his whole life, surely it breaks you at some point. you wonder why he was choosing to open up with you about it.

in return, you talk about how difficult it is to deal with such a strict family. and you two begin to bond over the shared struggle, finding out how much you relate to one another in that regard. ranting about your family values and beliefs was something you had never done before. arguing with them about it hardly counted as a conversation, so to be open about a topic like this was quite foreign. it’s a strange feeling to connect with someone you barely paid attention to your entire life, to realize how close in nature you are with heeseung. but it also made you wary of how much information was too much.

on a cold friday evening, in the middle of you and heeseung talking to each other across the room about the usual nobility rantings, you both hear footsteps coming towards the room. in all your weeks there, never had you heard anyone roam around these hallways as it was such a private part of the palace you were sure no one went here.

immediately you both run to hide inside the small bathroom, shutting the door close right when the room to the door opened. footsteps enter and you thank yourself for tidying the place and bed in the afternoon. nothing appeared on the table next to the couch where you were just sitting, and even if there was a few objects out of place it couldn’t have been enough for anyone to recognize how occupied the room had been.

you can’t make out exactly what they’re saying, faintly something along the lines of how this room isn’t made for family guest rooms and it once belonged to the queen’s closest guests, and entrance without invitation was forbidden. you wonder if heeseung was granted access to this room because of his family’s close ties with the king and queen, and you’re sure this was exactly why. in moments like these it hits you just how much the royals favored his family, which came as a surprise to you as your father had been fighting for a rank besides the king his entire life.

you become impatient with how long it takes for them to argue on the restrictiveness of the room, and you finally hear heeseung’s soft breathing right beside your ear. having focused on what was being said on the opposite side of the door, you didn’t realize how close he was. how his face was a few inches from yours, how you could feel his inhale and exhale.

with the flush in your face, you’re thankful the two of you are standing in pitch-black darkness, only light coming from under the small gap in the door. your face is almost touching his chest as he presses his hands against the door to keep it shut, trapping you in between. trying to to force your head back away from him, you gently meet the door and cringe at the small sound it may have made.

with how quickly you two rushed to the bathroom you don’t think the idea of how close you two were together caught up with either of you until the minutes became too long. and now that you realize the proximity you almost don’t know what to do with yourself. you’re sure he doesn’t realize it either, given how he remains there, still focused on trying to hear what was being said out there. whatever they were talking about left your mind the second you realized his presence. you count down the seconds to get out of here, embarrassed at how he could remain at such a distance, cursing yourself for not just standing at the other side of the bathroom.

once the room was finally quiet after the door on the outside opened and close, he finally backs up and opens the door, allowing you to process what had just happened. to process the feel of his breath faintly touching the tip of your ear.

heeseung doesn’t come for a few days, not the wednesday, friday or saturday. and it throws you off routine as those days were usually meant for long conversations with him, and breakfast of course.

you think back to the bathroom incident and question if that made him realize how dangerously close you two were getting. the close meaning of sharing small talk about noble families and simply residing in the same guest room together. it was hardly close, and he would be utterly dramatic for stopping all relations with you if this was the reason why for his strange disappearance. although, with what happened in the bathroom, you wonder if he pondered it over too. how he stood right there, not very far from you in the dark where no one else would’ve saw.

it was sunday evening and he came in through the door to which you were not expecting, sporting a black eye and what seemed like a small cut along his cheek. you gasped in horror and he shakes his head to get you to back off with any questions. since when was it appropriate for any child of a high-regarded nobleman to be seen walking around with cuts and bruises? does he have any idea what kind of reputation could form from looking like a street fighter?

you sit there fighting the urge not to do anything as none of this was your business. he may have taken up some fighting lessons on his own maybe and got hit by a forest tree. that made the most sense to you. because heeseung is not suposed to be fighting anyone. your teacher taught you the basics of wound cleaning and dressing, and you recall the kind of treatment needed for the skin on one’s face. he stands there at the windowsill like he always does, gazing out into the night sky as if it was any more interesting by the day.

you sit up and move close to him to see the damage and he doesn’t acknowledge your presence.

“what happened to your eye? and your cheek- it’s bleeding,” you ask gently as possible, a bit of your voice trembling.

he doesn’t answer and you walk into the bathroom to gather some supplies that were stored in one of the drawers. maybe he’ll see how you’re trying to help and take you seriously. enemies or not, being people under the same king meant you were to assist with anyone who was harmed.

he shakes his head again as you bring everything to the table and sit on the couch, waiting for a few minutes in hopes of him finally sitting down. a hundred questions race through your mind. who could do this to one of the most sought out sons within all these noble families? was it an outsider? was it his own? it was no wonder his absence this past week made you feel a bit anxious. there was something wrong.

you urge him to lay down, sitting up from the couch so he has room. he doesn’t move, still staring out there, grip as tight as ever.

you lay out a small bandage, a bowl with warm water, and a towel for him if he decides to use it. embarrassment floods your face at trying to initiate such a gesture, and you quickly put away the rest of the supplies. perhaps you had overstepped a boundary, and you were the last thing he needed to see.

by the time you hit the bed and try to sleep, he had still not moved an inch.

you wake up to an empty room, the supplies from last night still laid out on the table but there was also that tray of breakfast you had been missing all week. you hoped he was okay because seeing civilians hurt and bruised would never be something you could ever get used to. supposed enemy or not.

he doesn’t come for a couple of weeks, and you only see him in passing, him looking more worn down than ever. he never meets your gaze either, and you wonder if the connection you thought you two had was something you made up in your head. that in a world where you know nothing about friendship and relationships outside of your family, that what you two shared was nothing to be hopeful for.

you still sleep in that room every night, better than sharing it with your family who have only grown more agitated. being with them meant another headache and the quietness of this private room was your own personal safety net.

everything was going to be okay, there was always a solution to problems, any problem would be met with an answer, and that worrying did nothing. hoping and moping around did nothing. you counted the paint marks on the ceiling, and the walls, you tapped your finger to count the seconds, you did anything to keep yourself occupied.

your thoughts wondered to him, seeing the small wound that was now scabbed on his face. you were sure you could have healed it days ago if he had let you, but maybe it was better this way, not being acknowledged at all. he can care for his own self, you were nothing to him.

heeseung walks in that night with a cut lip and a bruised body, his clothes having slash marks with stains of dry blood and you’re horrified once again. to no surprise, he’s standing at the windowsill only this time his eyes were no longer to the window. his head hung forward, gaze steady on the floor. the tiredness seemed gruesome, the usual straight posture he had was not weak and wimp.

you analyzed all the wounds you could see at a distance from the bed. his face was worse than last time and whatever happened to his body made your fingers tremble. staying focused and alert was harder for you this time than last, given the severity of it. maybe he was training, this had to be it. but why would someone like him have to go through military training? none of it made any sense.

for a few minutes, you debate on whether you should try again. know your place, you must know your place. help him, he’s hurting. he doesn’t need your help. his wounds are bleeding.

he interrupts your thoughts by weakly limping to the couch, his hands reaching for the seat to steady himself down. there’s a grimace from him you hadn’t seen before. the blood seeping through the fabric looked old and dirty and you had to fight everything in you not to go up to him and insist once again. you pick at your fingers, anxious on what to do. who can rest when a panting hurting man is on the couch across from them.

“take your clothes off.” you tell him before you can stop yourself, and his eyes that were set on the floor looks up at you in a perplexed manner.

you redden at the double meaning of your words and shook your head in apology. turning your head into your shoulders slightly at how incredibly thoughtless saying that was.

“i’m sorry, i- i meant to take it off because the blood is dry and the wound is old, and keeping that fabric on it will increase the risk of infection. i encourage you to go to the bathroom and clean it up yourself.” you quickly let out all in one breath and he doesn’t move at all.

after an hour or so of you beating yourself up for that awful slip up and even speaking up at all, he walks weakly to the bathroom, spending a very long time in there to which you start to worry.

he appears from the bathroom right when you’re about to sit up and he makes his way back to the couch, his clothes unbuttoned and his cuts opened. you hiss at how it looks and scrunch your face imagining the pain. you try to ignore everything else that is exposed, only trying to look at the wounds.

heeseung decides to lay down this time, head resting on the hard couch pillow, finally laying flat on his back. he gently groans as the couch fabric hits his back and you almost can’t take it anymore. sleep shortly finds him and it is the first time you have seen him asleep before you.

his wounds look bad, really bad. and if you don’t do something you may regret it. there was no way he’d accept your help now, after not speaking for weeks. why did he even come here at all then if he knew you would be here? maybe he was trying to get you to leave this room by keeping it completely abandoned and only coming back after he waited it out. you finally accept that if he wasn’t going to be okay with your help you would do him a slight favor anyway and hope you never have to speak to him again. like a silent healer who snuck into infirmaries for the sick.

you rush to the bathroom, pulling the supplies you once did and move slowly back to the table. your movements are soft, trying not to make a sound as you lay out the cloth pieces and herbs. one herb for each wound, and one piece of fabric as well. you count the pieces to assure everything was correct, and then wet the small towel inside the bowl.

when you turn to him to clean his wounds, you gasp as his eyes are slightly open, fluttering open and shut.

“you- you’re awake? i’m sorry i was just trying to-“ you start trying to explain but his eyes are closed once again.

he didn’t seem to stop you when he saw what you were doing, for who knows how long. silence didn’t mean yes, but you can’t take no for an answer right now anyway, and you gently tend to the wounds on his upper body and arms. it takes a long time, about an hour almost. being as detail-oriented as you were, everything had to be done with precision. not being able to reach his back, you lay out the extra supplies for him if he chooses to use them.

helping him was strange, in the sense that you never really had to help anyone this way at all. being taught the basics of wound care dind’t mean you ever got to apply it. this was all academics, bragging rights, and merit. stuff your teacher taught you as a life skill. to be useful in this way was unfamiliar, but a sense of duty fulfills you. perhaps you did have a purpose in this war, a purpose if at all. you could be a daughter locked away for your parents to control, or you could be a valuable asset to a terrible time where lives are lost and injured left and right. you cared for his wounds because this is something you are innately born to do, to help and assist the sick and the ill. this was the explanation you chose for yourself while working on heeseung, this was what you were to believe.

as you check through every bandage one last time, his eyes open slowly again, blinking open a few times.

you still yourself, your right hand still touching the bandage near his chest. it felt childish to act like you were caught doing something like your mom seeing you sneaking in a sweet to your room. you freeze anyway, hoping he would fall asleep again. please just fall asleep again, rest yourself heeseung.

he doesn’t close his eyes for what felt like minutes when it was really only 10 seconds. he lets out a soft breath, closing his eyes as if he were squirming, opening them again. you look down at his chest and stomach area and see the medicine seeping through the bandages, most likely hitting his flesh now. his gaze is still on you, and his hands are about to reach up to his chest where your hands are, to which you assumed he was trying to slap your fingers away.

before he can make it to your hand, his wrist collapses weakly at his side, fingers twitching from the pain of the cut down his sleeve and your first instinct is to reach out to make sure he was okay, to reach for his hand and assess it in your own.

maybe it was the caring nature in you that goes out of your way to help any creature in pain but a small part of you brushed away the idea that perhaps there was the beginning of a subconscious care you had for him.

whatever it was, there was no time to dissect complex feelings when it seemed like everyone around you was reaching a breaking point, mentally or physically. and with the rate of which everyone was going down one by one, the question of whether this war will end soon or has just begun haunts you.

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