#you are on some level afraid of Willy

[junkbbykow]

𝒴❁𝒰’𝑅𝐸 𝒯𝐻𝒜𝒯 𝐵𝐼𝒯𝒞𝐻 - 𝒫𝒜𝒞

I’m gonna help y’all remember who you are and get to the nitty gritty of YOUR baddie energy <3 My latest PAC is here!

Omg guys! Thank y’all for 50 followers. As a special treat and thanks I’m going to be offering one of my paid readings in PAC form! Remember this is general, take what resonates and leave what doesn’t!

Pick a Picture below! 1,2,3

Pile 1 - The Powerhouse

Remember Who You Are - What comes naturally

Well sheesh pile one. You take no sh*t and no prisoners. You say what you have to say and mean it. You’re incredibly fair and also generous. You help those who are deserving but keep your energy safe and locked away. I see you might also be a defender of some sorts. You keep anything that doesn’t serve you at bay and keep it pushing. Literally giving toxic energies a face of disgust. Y’all are not here for it. You’re a leader and philanthropist. You help others and share your resources with equity to those in need of your gifts but also yourself. You have great boundaries and keep sh*t in check. Nobody crosses you, your (chosen) family, and the abundance you create for yourself. You have wealth and high standards. You’re simply better than some people AND THAT IS OKAY. Don’t let it get to your head lol. One persons guides coming through heavy so maybe connect with your ancestors, guides, spirit and listen to your dreams

Divine Messages

Lmao don’t do too much for family. You live them deeply but don’t be afraid to say no, ask for reciprocation or just restate your boundaries. I feel like y’all can get down from being in this maternal/paternal energy but someone(s) are going to make this better and give back to you the way you give to them. Don’t overextended your abundance. The goal is to build generational wealth that exists beyond this lifetime. Maybe some of y’all have a younger brother or sibling. Keep them in your prayers and manifestations they may be dealing with some emotions they haven’t learned to express. Open yourself up to them and be a light in their life. A strong message here is to stop overburdening yourself. Yes, you are capable but EVERYONE has their limits and you need to start making that clear for those around you our spirit will do it on your behalf. Your skills are needed for much more than this present moment. Be wary of running yourself ragged trying to be everything to everybody. PROTECT your abundance and nurture it. Don’t just hand it out willy nilly. You deserve your abundance and spirit sends it your way for you. Treat yourself but more importantly INVEST IN YOURSELF!!!! Somethings (people, places, habits) need to be let go of with the quickness.

The beauty others see in you

People see you as a forever student. You are always learning new skills, adapting, and leveling up your life. I feel like if someone needs help researching or has an oddball question you’re the person for the job. People think the world is your oyster. Nothing can stop you and honestly who would dare with the energy you were presenting earlier. Before I saw you as fierce and cut to the chase, but people close to you see this youthful, creative, and joyous person who is eternally optimistic even when they have their moments. Whether their in your life, in the future, or speaking from the other side, your (chosen/soul) family LOVES YOU. They also see you as some sort of traveler. With a simple yet cute sense of style. Comfy but in the most fashionable way possible. You are also EXTREMELY beautiful. TW nudity/Sexual attraction On a more general sense I think a lot of people want to see you naked. In the most natural way possible. Whatever insecurities you have people don’t care they want to see you hair, bumps, acne, rolls and all.

How your destined person sees you

They see you as lost? Lmao not what I expected. You can be hard headed sometimes (me too) and they love this about you don’t get them wrong but that’s one of the big things they see in you. Your a crazy kid with wild ideas and you sure as hell are not gonna let anything stop you. You’re tough and but also very soft. You’re new to this (dating). Or maybe you’ve never actually experienced love and this person will be that to you. When they say lost you’re not codependent or struggling your just an extremely go with flow, take all the punches kinda person. They recognize y’all as meant to be. There is nobody else who matches them as perfectly as you. There’s just you. Nobody they could dream up would be as perfect and as exquisite as you. There words not mine 🥹

How to embody these attributes & utilize your gifts

Recognize that you are going through something. You have been left feeling helpless, alone, and defeated. That is okay. It happens. You don’t have to pick yourself up this very millisecond. I know you’re a determined individual who moves towards their goals at the speed of light but you need to reconnect woth your soul energy. Plain and simple. That means inmer child work, root chakra healing, physical therapy. Feed your soul the best way you know how. One step at a time. You got this. Get off social media. I also feel like you’re defensive right now. But there isn’t anything that needs defending. Nobody is taking your spot. There is only you. That’s it. So just rest, please. Everything will be here when you’re feeling better. Promise. Also stop fighting. Whatever that means to you. Chill out and let things pass. I’m picking up on a family scenario. Also stop telling people your grand plans. There energy is getting all mixed in with your projects. Also stop giving away every dime you have. Save. Buy yourself something nice okay. Not every part of you is meant to be given to others.

How to Honor Yourself Daily

Listen to your emotions. Release the hustle energy and breathe. Be playful, act goofy, make dumb choices. They’ll lead you somewhere unexpected. Ofc be safe but have FUN. Acknowledge how you’re feeling daily and show up for yourself by nurturing that aspect of you. Come to terms with your emotions and validate them. Also be creative, study, read, you enjoy acquiring knowledge, so do that. This is not the time for others. It’s the time for you and you only.

Tidbits: New York, College, Professor/educator, These boots are made for walking, children, laughing, music to my ears, water, mermaid, art, study, books, color, sun, 5, wand, fire, galaxy, 2, earth, wings, mother, familiar

I hope you enjoyed your reading! I appreciate all likes, reblogs, and feedback! Please visit my masterlist for more PACS, Ask Games, Paid Readings and more!

Pile 2 - The Nurtuer

Remember Who You Are - What Comes Naturally

Y’all are naturally kind in this pile. You let things come to you. You’re not a chaser and you have a very relaxed energy. I see you as someone who awaits every new day with adventure. You teach people patience and forgiveness. Your heart is so warm. And you make yourself a safe haven for those who need it but also yourself. Taurus energy???? You are very good at processing and understanding your emotions while remaining grounded in reality. You balance feelings and logic and respect how one does not exist without the other. You are wise beyond your years without even doing anything. It’s inate to who you are. You see a lot of beauty in the world and love nature. You seek adventure but not in a chaotic way. You truly appreciate life itself the mundane and the extraordinary. What you find beauty in is unique. Career isn’t really your focus or where you find happiness or fulfillment. You’re giving homemaker vibes. So if you’re struggling in career how can you comfort others and make their lives more comfortable. Your energy is calm. The fast life is not for you. It’s okay to dream small. I know everyone is saying make a name for yourself but maybe you just want to live in a cottage somewhere and grow fruits. That’s valid.

Divine Messages

I feel like y’all have your sh*t together lmao. You’re creating the life you want for yourself and disregarding the status quo. This might have been a new revelation. You’re leaving behind this need to be someone your not. I feel like your journey here is to nurture yourself and live a good and chill life. A new day is shining on you. I feel like some of you might not agree with this, but maybe question why you want your goals and what do you REALLY want. A tough lesson may be coming towards you. I feel this is more on a spiritual/mental level for a majority of the group. I don’t know if spirit is going to give me all the details. There might be a man in your life who is ending a cycle in your life and you will have to leave them behind. A death of some sorts is coming.

The Beauty Others see in You

Okay so people can see that you are fair, generous, and just. They also see you as a protector. A mother hen of sorts. Also you’re here to guide people. That’s a part of your life plan. People see that you can nurture things from start to finish. You complete your goals and are very orderly. People aspire to be as well put together as they see you being. Like I said, you’re a homemaker of some sorts and people love to be in your energy, room, home, ect. You make it a nice and comforting place to be and you accommodate guests very well. You’re sociable but independent and people recognize that. You’re the #1 host and gathering spot. You are very magical and people see you as a creator. Like you manifest, manipulate, and transmute like crazy!!!! You get what you want and reach your desires by any means. I know you might be tired of hearing this but you’re very strong. You keep your inner world in shape so that it can reflect out into your universe. You stay optimistic by balancing your understanding of your external and internal realities. I feel like this part was from spirit because it was so introspective.

How your Destined Person Sees You

You are illusive. You’re so mysterious. Everyday there is something new with you, another layer. (very sweet energy 🥹) They probably enjoy late nights with you. Being your partner is a CONSTANT adventure. Late night drives, traveling through the woods, you’re literally a witch/spiritual asf and that is new to them 😭. I feel like they see you like in a coven late at night dancing around a fire naked with your friends. And it wouldn’t be surprising to catch you like that. They might want to be apart of your witchy endeavors don’t be afraid to let them take part and share this part of yourself. With all that adventure they also see you as mature and respectable (you got layerrrsss). But in all of this they don’t think you understand how amazing, beautiful, and luxurious you are. You are so special and unique. You spend a lot of time worrying and anxious and they really just want to take care of all of it for you. They will do everything in their power to affirm you day to day. They want you to be the star that you truly are. Unstoppable.

How to embody these attributes & utilize your gifts

Focus on yourself. You’ve spent so much of your life catering to others and it’s time to invest in you and you alone. Some of the people you’ve been helping, leave them behind. They may seem hurt with your decision but tbh it doesn’t compare to the weight/burden they are in your life. You’re put together so these people don’t respect your emotions because your not trying to get attention for your pain or make everyone feel what you’re feeling. You carry yourself and your own responsibilities and these people just can’t accept that their problems are not your issue. Friends support one another, they do not do the work for each other. Be youthful again, leave seriousness behind. Life is a joke and that’s okay. And it’s okay to be alone for a little bit. Love you babes 💕 Taking this time alone leads you to a whole new world, I promise.

How to Honor Yourself Daily

Just getting out of bed is enough. To get water, eat, shower, turn on the tv, I don’t care. These people who have left your life or about to honestly left you in shambles. I think you were better off before them and now you’re trying to rekindle who you used to be with the knowledge and the maturity you now posses and that’s honorable. But rest first. There are so many day in a lifetime and it is okay to sit down and rest. Tomorrow is promised so please release all those burdens these people left behind. Also cry, throw tantrums, and reconcile with who you truly are. I think someone is coming in and offering you abundance. If not someone something. You be fulfilled and content just rest baby 🛌 Also stop giving people gifts rn. I’ve said this like three times in this pile but genuinely you have to stop 😅

Tidbits: death, hermit, nature, creek, wildflowers, pastels, harmony, gardening, trail, forest. star, night, giggles, silence, nobody else but us, freedom, fresh air, cozy, sleep, blankets, hot chocolate

I hope you enjoyed your reading! I appreciate all likes, reblogs, and feedback! Please visit my masterlist for more PACS, Ask Games, Paid Readings and more!

Pile 3 - The Trailblazer

Remember Who You Are - What Comes Naturally

You are constantly striving for internal growth. You also love to dress up and be creative. You may like to use ‘odd’ things as accessories or pick up flowers and put them in your hair. Your a benevolent leader who encourages others and yourself to come out of your shell. You walk in a room and turn heads. Not only are you beautiful but incredibly unique and you express that outwardly. People often ‘don’t know what to do with you’ you don’t fit into any molds (so stop trying) You make your own lanes and you innovate. Heavy influence from earth and air here. Please get out in nature. It’s your home. Also connect with water! You are often uncertain which comes with the territory of being so unique. You fit so many roles. You might have felt akin to all three piles for certain reasons. So much lies beneath the surface that even you have yet to find. Even when uncertain you trail ahead at full speed and don’t fear the consequences because you are righteous (with good reason) Your ancestors/spirit/guides entrust you with great responsibilities. Listen to them because your connection to them is so innate and pure. Like fresh water (I just saw a drop of water drip into still water maybe your actions this lifetime will have a great ripple effect for generations) This can be scary but don’t worry your protected and will find your way. No need to rush or overthink it. Literally just be you <3

Divine Messages

I think you’re going through a rebirth right now. Visit pile 2 if you felt called to it. I feel like you are only seeing the negative or refusing to be patient. Chill out for a second you need time. You just came out of something you need to redefine yourself and truly connect with your essence. Let your worries fall away. Your restless during your time of rest which is counterproductive. Let the ‘abundance’ of your last cycle be cleared so that the absolute monstrosity of wealth and opulence can come through. Leave social media alone. Especially if you’re watching other people be successful and so on. It’s not your time yet and that’s okay but your not in the headspace to be happy for other’s success right now so get off Tik Tok lmao 😅.

The Beauty Others See in You

Y’all reflect back to others what they wish to see in themselves. Parts that are missing or have been lost over time come up in you or your relationship to you. A true shapeshifter. Be wary of this because you don’t want to have a mask on in every relationship. Be you. You are everything all at once. You embody so many attributes, desires, goals. All of it is so much and can be overwhelming at time but it’s truly beautiful to see. Coming across someone as unique as you, Pile 3, is rare. Know that. Not everyone with a pretty face and interesting surface is worth your time. You stick to your roots and who you are regardless of what the crowd is saying. They aren’t you and subscribing to that lifestyle isn’t you either.

How Your Destined Person Sees You

This is a destined connection. Also it’s giving queer! They might see you as tomboyish or a very strong balance of femme and masculine. If you’re non-binary your partner loves this about you don’t worry. They also see you as a muse. Your body, personality, and the way you think inspires them. Your constantly transforming and that is a great place to draw inspiration. They either want to provide for you or truly see this connection that will bear fruit from its labor! Very sweet and genuine energy here. You redefine family for them. All the doubts they had about building one are swept away after meeting you. They see you as someone who can build a family and generational wealth together. Go you!

How to Embody these Attributes & Utilize Your Gifts

Be confident or find confidence within yourself on many levels. Be confident in your work, studies, appearance, and so on. Also, fall in love? I think this is from your destined partner embody your strength and radiate that energy so you can signal to them that your ready and here. Idk I feel like this pile knows who they are and already embodies their gifts good on y’all but also check the other piles if you felt drawn to them.

How to Honor Yourself Daily

Ignore illusions. People may try to rush you, make you feel insignificant but it’s not true. You have true power and you yield it with kindness. You are a star don’t let others highlight your misfortunes and mistakes. Let go if things not going according to plan and look for the next opportunity. Also stop taking people’s BS. Like it’s tired. Put your foot down and focus on your own growth and practices. Take back what is yours.

Surprises are on their way to you. That’s why your reading was so quick to the point

Tidbits: 8h, pluto, soul, transformation, apple, snake, 222, 333, cloud, 9, creation, crown, fire, tower, iPad

I hope you enjoyed your reading! I appreciate all likes, reblogs, and feedback! Please visit my masterlist for more PACS, Ask Games, Paid Readings and more!

Your other songs are Long Time - Intro, Playboy Carti & NVR MET, CMNT Glitch Gum Also Never Ending, Rihanna

Remember, you’re that b*txh!

xoxo,

Junkbby Kow

[weirdmarioenemies]

The Critic's Arrival

It appears we've been visited by some sort of critic. We didn't order any critic! Are you a film critic? Food critic?

"The name's THE Critic- get it right! I ridicule, just out of spite! And now you've got me at your door, You've no idea what you're in for! For I'm The Critic, that's no ruse! I'm here to criticize all youse!"

Oh? You're here to criticize us...? I don't think I like whatever it is you're imply- oh, he's already invited himself in. Okay! So, Mr. The Critic, can I... get you something to drink, I guess? We certainly have a lot of water.

"That's all you offer? You're the worst! Good thing I've not much of a thirst! This living room... it's oh so drab. And are you serious? A CRAB? Your home decor is just no good. I'd burn this poster if I could! You must have all been in the dark, For not a soul likes Wonder Park!"

Come on... Boomer the Ride Tester is funny... right? Is there anything else we can do to make your stay more comfortable? And maybe make you more polite?

"I hope my message makes you cry: This home of yours is much too dry!"

Is that so? At least here in Wet-Dry World, that's easy to fix! I'll just activate this Crystal Tap and raise the water...

"This isn’t any better yet. The whole affair’s now far too wet!"

Oh... how about a more neutral level?

"The moisture level’s at its middle, But I’m afraid, too late too little! You just can't seem to be a winner! Now, with that done, let's have some dinner!"

Okay, I've been trying to be polite, but you can't just be mean to us and expect to receive a free meal for it! Spikey's only made enough potatoes au gratin for us mods!

"Oh, THAT'S the stench? It's just some gratin? I could have sworn something was rotten! I see you're near fed up with me, And knowing that fills me with glee!"

Why are you doing this, The Critic? Why us? What did we do to you?

"Well, here's what's written in my log: You lot all run a Tumblr blog! Where posts are foolish, simply silly, Goofy creatures willy-nilly! You don't need to be analytic To know you're talking to The Critic. It's how I live, it's what I do. I've come here to criticize YOU!"

Hey. Words really hurt, you know that, The Critic? But no matter what you say, you can't break our spirits! We'll post what we want no matter what you say!

"Now comes the part I love the most... rescinding your license to post!"

OUR POSTING LICENSE?! The only thing that legally allows us to post about funny pretend creatures online... you're a monster! Unhand that license this instant!

"Ha ha! Hee hee! It's too much fun! And with that, I'll be on the run! Your permit's all I need to rob. I hope you've got a backup job!"

He's gone. That utter fiend... without our posting license, we're nothing. He's right. We'll need a new job. After all this time, we'll need to return to where it all began, where all of us met for the first time, and where we all worked before starting this blog, but it was never relevant so we never mentioned it...

...the TROUT HATCHERY! See you there...

[tanadrin]

[epistemic status: a bunch of semi-related thoughts I am trying to work out aloud] It has been noted countless times that reactionary politics rely on a feeling of threat: our enemies are strong and we are weak (but we are virtuous and they are not, which is why they’re our enemies!); we must defend ourselves, we must not be afraid of doing what needs to be done; we must not shie away from power generally, and violence specifically.

And there are lots of contexts--like when talking about the appeal of reactionary politics in the US before and at the beginning of Trump’s rise to prominence, or when talking about hard-on-crime policies that are a springboard to police militarization, or (the central example of all this in the 21st century) the post 9/11 PATRIOT-act terrorism paranoia that was a boon to authoritarians everywhere, and spurred a massive expansion of both control and surveillance in everyday life--where critics of reactionary rhetoric are chastised for their failure to appeal to the other side, because they come off as callous towards their concerns and their real fears and anxieties.

And while this might not be strategically correct, frankly, I think there’s a sense in which it is justified to be callous towards those concerns. Because those concerns are lies. They may be lies borne out of a seed of real experience (9/11 did happen, of course), but the way that seed is cultivated by focused paranoia, by contempt toward cultivating any sense of proportionality or any honest comparison of risk, the way it is dragooned into the service of completely orthogonal political goals (”the CIA/NSA/FBI must be able to monitor all private communications everywhere in the world, just in case it might prevent another 9/11″) chokes off any possible sympathy I might otherwise feel. American paranoia about another couple thousand lives being lost in a 9/11 like event resulted in a number of deaths literally multiple orders of magnitude larger in Iraq and Afghanistan. During the former, some years Iraq was suffering the equivalent of six or seven 9/11s a year.

So, any fear-driven policy must not (for example) say “to prevent disaster X happening again, we’re going to make it happen 270 times over to someone else.” That’s not reasonable. And “fear is a bad basis for crafting policy” is not exactly a revolutionary observation. There’s that probably-apocryphal story of a Chinese professor responding to Blackstone’s Ratio--you know, “better that ten guilty persons go free than one innocent person suffer”--with “better for whom?” Which is supposed to be this trenchant and penetrating question that makes you reexamine your assumptions. But it’s always struck me as idiotic. Better for society! For everyone! Because the law only functions well if it is seen as a source of order and justice, not as an authoritarian cudgel; because a society in which anxiety drives policymaking and legal responses to social ills is one that is in the process of actively devouring itself; because flooding the public discourse with language that dehumanizes criminals and makes it easy to separate the individual from universal principles like civil rights is an acid that destroys the social fabric.

Fear as a germ of reactionary politics manifests itself in lots of ways outside of both historical examples, like fascism, or more recent examples, like US foreign policy during the war on terror. Fear and its link to purity-attitudes, with a low level of scientific literacy in general, drives stuff like the organized anti-vaccine movement. In the Hertzsprung-Russel diagram of political tendencies, I’d argue it’s a big factor in the wellness-to-Qanon track. It’s a big part of tough-on-crime rhetoric, which in the American instance in particular also draws on an especially racialized form (cf. the “Willie Horton” ad). Fear and purity and anti-contamination anxieties are even big in opposition to nuclear power, because most of the public just has a really bad sense of what the comparative dangers of nuclear vs fossil fuel are; and because the former has been culturally salient since 1945 in a way the latter hasn’t, nuclear contamination feels much more threatening than fossil fuel waste, despite by any measurable harm the latter causing far worse problems, even before you factor in any risks from climate change.

I would like to argue in particular that true crime as an entertainment genre, and wellness culture, and fears about child abuse all contribute to reactionary politics--they are in themselves major reactionary political currents--in a way that cuts across the political spectrum because they are not strongly marked for political factionalism. A lot of the rhetoric both from and around true crime entertainment promotes the idea that violent crime exists, or at least can flourish, because of an insufficiently punitive attitude toward crime; one that can only be fixed by centering victims’ desire (or putative desire) for retribution in the legal process, by eroding the civil rights of the accused, and by giving the police and prosecutors more power. Obviously, this is just 80s and 90s tough on crime rhetoric repackaged for millennials; it centers individual experience a bit more and deemphasizes the racial component that made the “Willie Horton” ad so successful, but it posits that there is only one cause for crime, a spontaneous choice by criminals that has no causal relationship with the rest of the world, and only one solution, which is authoritarianism.

Wellness culture leverages purity concerns and scientific illiteracy in ways which are so grifty and so transparently stupid that it’s by far the least interesting thing on this list to me; its most direct harm is in giving an environment for the anti-vaccine movement to flourish, and I’m always incredibly annoyed when people talk about how the medical establishment needs to do more to reassure the public about vaccines’ safety and efficacy. Again, strategically, this may be correct; people dying of preventable disease is really bad. But doctors as a body didn’t promote Andrew Wakefield’s nonsense; doctors as a body didn’t run breathless article after breathless article about vaccines maybe causing autism; doctors as a body didn’t scare the bejezus out of folks in the 90s and then act all surprised when preventable childhood diseases started breaking out all over the place.

Although outside the whole anti-vax thing, I think there are lots of other harms that wellness culture creates. It tends to be fairly antiscientific; in order to sell people nonsense (because as a subculture it exists almost exclusively to sell people things) it has to discredit anything that might point out that it is selling nonsense. Whether the anti-intellectualism that flourishes in these quarters is a result of intentional deceit or just a kind of natural rhetorical evolution probably varies. But it is an important component of wellness culture to be able to play a shell game between “big pharma doesn’t have your best interests at heart,” “you don’t need your anti-depressants,” and “laetrile cures cancer.”

The way in which fears of child abuse are turned into a reactionary political cudgel probably actually annoys me the most; whether it’s Wayfair conspiracy theories, conservatives trying to turn “groomer” into an anti-queer slur, or just antis on tumblr, the portrayal of sadistic sexual threat aimed at children from an outside malevolent force is compelling only because the vast majority of child abuse and CSA comes from within families and within culturally privileged structures of authority like churches, and this fact makes everyone really uncomfortable, and no one wants to talk about it. I remember getting really annoyed during the Obama years when the White House wanted to talk about bullying and anti-LGBT bullying in particular, while studiously avoiding blaming parents and teachers in any way for it, despite the fact that all the coming out horror stories I know are from people’s parents turning on them.

Now, very conservative politics have always opposed dilution of a kind of privilege for the family structure; they envision a family structure which is patriarchal, and so dilution of this privilege is dilution of the status of patriarch. Very insular communities which cannot survive their members having many options or alternative viewpoints available to them, including controlling religions but also just abusive parents who want to retain control over their kids, also bristle at the idea of any kind of general society-wide capacity for people to notice how parents treat their children. But beyond that, I think our society still treats parents as having a right of possession over their children and their children’s identities, especially when they’re young, and bolsters that idea with an idea that the purity of children is constantly under threat from the outside world, and it is the parents’ job to safeguard that purity. The result is the nuclear family as a kind of sacred structure which the rest of society has no right to observe or pry open; and this is a massive engine of enabling the abuse of children. To no other relationship in our society do we apply this idea, that it should be free from “interference” (read: basic accountability) from the rest of society.

Moreover, the idea of childhood as a time of purity and innocence, which not only must be protected from but during which children must be actively lied to about major aspects of how the world works, is one of the last ways remaining to an increasingly secular culture to justify censorious and puritanical Victorian morality. It is hard to advocate for censorship to protect the Morals of the Christian Public, when nobody believes in the Morals of the Christian Public anymore; but “think of the children!” still works as a rallying cry, because of this nagging sense we have that age-appropriate conversations with children about adult topics will cause them to melt or explode.

In many ways, these anxieties on behalf of theoretical children are the ones I am most contemptuous of. Not because child abuse isn’t a serious problem--it is--but because the vector imagined for it is almost entirely opposite the one it actually tends to occur along. People who pretend that the primary danger to children is from strangers are usually woefully misinformed; people who pretend it is from media are either idiots or liars seeking a cover for their craving for censorship.

In conclusion: while it’s not possible to exorcise all our neuroses from our politics, anymore than we will ever exercise all our neuroses from our aesthetics, there are some we should be especially on guard against. A sense of threat, and anxieties which tie into concerns about purity and fears of contamination, are two big ones. These produce policies that are not only badly correlated with the outcomes they ostensibly want, but actually and severely destructive to them, in the same way that invading Iraq was actively destructive to any notion of preventing terrorism, saving American or Iraqi lives, or promoting political stability in the Middle East. And we should hold in healthy suspicion anybody whose politics seem to be driven by similar neuroses. Some merely believe very harmful things. Some are actually actively deceptive. None will achieve any of the higher aims they claim as justification for their beliefs.

[invisibleraven]

Okay I am prompting cowboys and aliens AU, pairing of your choice bc I am just so curious lolol

It all starts when Reggie's prize heffer goes missing.

It's annoying, because he hasn't heard of any cattle rustlers in the area, and the local kids learned not to mess with him after he levelled his shotgun at Betsy Gunderson's boy trying to bed the daughter of the local preacher in his hayloft.

So he stakes out his fields, waiting for the idiots who decided to steal from him. He's expecting a group of toughs, or maybe one lone guy out to pick off his herd. He just doesn't expect to get beamed up by a freaking UFO.

The space is sterile and white, and there's no sign of Reggie's wayward cow, or anything else for that matter. He's terrified, worrying about lasers and probes, and every other trope that sci-fi movies have taught him to expect.

Only there are no little green men, but a sentient pile of orangey goo that greet him, making weird squawking at him in a pitch that makes his fillings rattle. He holds his hands over his ears until there's some clicks and chirps, then finally a voice.

"Is that better? Can you understand me now?"

Reggie lowers his hands, and sees the ooze almost vibrating as the voice repeats itself. "Um yeah... thanks? What's going on here?"

"I am here to observe your species," the creature says. "No harm, just observe."

"Did you steal my cow?" Reggie asks accusingly.

The creature glows a little, then gives what Reggie assumes is a laugh, though it sounds like tinkling bells. "Yes, I am afraid I did do that. I have been accused of trying to make it what you call a pet?"

"Yeah, cows aren't pets," Reggie replies. "I would kind of like her back if it's all the same."

"Do you have more?' the creature asks. "I would love to observe them all together in a group."

"A herd? I mean yeah... as long as you aren't planning on keeping them," Reggie says. "Though... do you have another form? This one is liable to give people the willies."

"I am the willies?" the creature ruminates, then shift until he resembles a very attractive human with bronze coloured skin, long dark hair, and cheekbones you could slice bread on. He is also very very naked, so Reggie tries to focus on said cheekbones. "I am acceptable now?"

"Sure, let's... get you to my house for some clothes and I'll show you around the farm."

The creature, who insists on going by The Willies (which Reggie just shortens to Willie, much to it's delight) loves the farm. He's less fond of clothes, but Reggie has managed to get him into shorts and a crop top left over from his last boyfriend, which is good enough.

Willie coos over the cows, is terrified of the chickens, a bit cautious around the pigs and is fascinated by the horses. He's a bit of a disaster in the saddle the first time Reggie takes him riding, but he eventually gets the hang of it, whooping as Ferdinand canters alongside Old Red.

Reggie brings Willie into town, biting back a smile as his wonder at other people, the food, the sights and sounds. It's kind of like a kid at DisneyLand, but he also notices that Willie gets overwhelmed easily, nervous in crowds, so he takes it slow.

"Your world is almost too much for me I'm afraid," Willie says as they head back in Reggie's truck, and Reggie doesn't have the heart to tell him he's only seen a small town in Montana, far from the world.

"We can take it day by day," Reggie replies. "World isn't going anywhere."

"My mission won't allow me to linger here much longer I'm afraid," Willie replies. "I'm supposed to report back soon, with all my findings. They've given me all the extensions they can."

"Oh."

Reggie finds he's kind of sad about that. Over the past few weeks or so he's come to enjoy Willie's presence here. The farm is kind of lonely, and it was nice to have a friend around. "Do you think you might be able to come back? I think you'd love winter time."

Willie is silent for a while, biting his plush bottom lip and playing with his hair. It isn't until they're sat at the table, idly sipping on coffee and poking at a slice of pie that he speaks. "In truth, I do not want to go. I love it here, even if it is too much at times. But I have a duty..."

"I get that," Reggie replies. "You are always welcome to stay or come back if you want."

"It is very far, many parsecs," Willie admits. "I do not think I would be able to return in your lifetime if I went."

"Well that's a bummer," Reggie admits. "Can you give me one more day though?"

"That is the least I can do," Willie replies, squeezing his hand. "After you have given me so much."

Willie returns to his ship soon after-holding human form exhausts him after a while, so he must recharge in his natural state. Reggie takes the time to get everything ready, wanting Willie to go out on a bang.

The next morning, Willie appears in the kitchen, looking around and his wide eyed amazement is pure serotonin for Reggie. He's set the house up for Christmas, complete with the tree, a few present, even got the snow machine to cover the outside of the window and a bit of the lawn.

It's an amazing day, with Willie beaming the whole time. They eat and watch terrible holiday movies, and Willie is ecstatic over the funky socks Reggie got him, just in case he takes a form with feet again.

But as the hour grows later, they know time is running short. Willie says goodbye to the animals, giving Daisy the prize heffer a kiss to her snout, murmuring to her in clicks and whistles, but Reggie gets the sentiment.

"I'll miss you," he admits as they walk towards the place where the ship is hovering in the air, camouflaged by some technology that Reggie doesn't understand.

"And I you," Willie admits. "I think I shall keep the name you gave me, to remember you by."

Reggie give him a sad smile, and brings him in for a hug-their first, as Willie is very hesitant about touch. But this he seems to like, letting it linger. Until he pulls away, smiling at Reggie.

"Farewell Reggie."

"Take care Willie."

And then he's gone, the ship disappearing in a streak of light. Reggie takes his time heading back to the house, even longer dismantling the fake holiday. Finds the pack of socks still sitting on the floor by the couch and has a god cry about it.

But then there's a knock on the door, and when Reggie opens it, there's Willie, hesitant and shy. "Hi. I was wondering... if maybe you could tell me what pets we could have?"

Reggie cries even more, but pulls Willie in for another hug. "We can get a dog," he promises him.

And they do-and a whole lot more than that, in the end.

[red-poppies-growing-in-black-ink]

"Alright, this probably won't hold them for long, especially with the grabpack. But it's better than nothing..." You recognize the toy's voice as an exact match for Dogday while he mutters to himself while looking over his handiwork.

Upon noticing you, the off-model dogday lets out a deep, annoyed sigh.

"Great, I thought the tape was longer given all the weird add-on hands..."

Formally Introducing: The persuasion mechanic.

When one world bleeds into another, the resulting ecosystem results in a lot of meshes between the dominant creatures.

As trying to presaude an entity that is incapable of doing so is just wasting time, it's important to learn that each group has it's own levels of sapience, sentience, and willingness to reason with a strange non-toy and non-ink creature that comes from outside the ecosystem like yourself.

Toys: All living toys are made out of human beings and posses human level sapience and sentience. There is exactly one entity inside the toy that you have to persuade and that is the toy itself. But while all toys are *human* that doesn't mean that all of them are easy to persuade. Most of them are children who are both afraid of human adults and untrusting of them, some of them are babies who are incapable of understanding what you are saying to them, and the very few adults and or teens you do find in the fully toy category do have their own things to worry about.

Toons: While toons' sapience and sentience comes from humans, toons are entities made out of Ink and unless the toon in question was made with one specific person in its mix, the Ink used to make toons is a slurry of people molded into a convenient humanoid shape with one toony personality slapped on to be in charge. All humans used to make toons are adults (with a few older teenage exceptions), but convincing Little Sally stuck inside the Candy Cat that you're not going to hurt her could be much easier than convincing the Boris made out of 32 frontal lobes that letting you leave is a good idea.

Tooned Toy: Uh oh! Someone killed a toon and stuffed a toy with it! Luckily for both parties, the resulting hybrid seems to be adjusting well as we can tell by the fact that the toon's features bled out into the toy instead of becoming an inky mess oozing out of the stuffing. But unluckily for you, persuading this creature means that you'll have to persuade *at least* two people.

Toy of a Toon: While there might not be any difference between a toy and a toy of a toon, it's easy to mistake them for toons so you need to be aware they exist so you don't get caught off guard.

Toon of a Toy (Specifically, why they're NOT here): Just because [REDACTED FOR SPOILERS] got the Ink Machine to work as intended doesn't mean that [REDACTED PRONOUN] would want to make toons of toys willy nilly. Plus, when you already have living toy versions of the characters, wouldn't making living cartoon versions be redundant?

Inked Toy: Watch out for ink leaking out of a toy's seams or dripping out of eye sockets. A toy can be reasoned with, an inked toy is basically a hollow shell with an inky parasite inside it. Before you dismiss this group as impossible to persuade on the grounds of not having human intelligence, remember that a human can count as a parasite.

Corrupt Toon: A toon that has been opened up, had important parts taken out (and possibly replaced with Junk), and sent back out. You are completely unable to verbally persuade a corrupt toon as most of the time their lobotomies involve the removal of the language processing center of the brain. However, even the most fucked up of corrupt toons understand fire, food, and violence.

Ink Creature: Just like toons, ink creatures are slurries of a bunch of different people in inky bodies. Unlike a toon that is molded into shape and has a personality slapped on, an ink creature is just the raw stuff and most of the time it wears its level of sapience and sentience on its sleeves.

[bread--quest]

sunny being a spooky little guy in their first ever interaction :eyes:

actually y'know what this is basically at a ending point anyway and i've just been looking for an excuse to post it so. surprise sunny treat!

By Season 22, Day 70, Liquid Friend has more or less gotten reacquainted with the Vault. It and Plasma have dusted off their office and gotten it back in working conditions, said hello to their old friends, and reintroduced themselves to the people who have come here since they left. The Vault's gotten bigger since it was last here, but Liquid still knows its hallways like an old friend, and it knows all the people in here by name at least, if not more.

Which is why it's taken completely by surprise when it rounds a corner to see someone it's absolutely never seen before standing there, happily dusting a wall.

Liquid runs through all the people it knows of in its head. Obviously this is not Uncle Plasma. They are also obviously not Clare (although they do have little wings and a glowing, flickering halo), Parker, New Megan, or Fletcher. They could be Cote, maybe, since Liquid's never actually seen Cote, but that would raise a lot of other questions. Definitely not Nagomi. Not York. Not Chorby, Aldon, Goodwin, Pitching Machine, or Valentine. Not James Mora either.

Well, what the heck.

"Hey there, uh..." Liquid takes a slight step forward. The person(?) turns to face them with wide golden eyes. "I'm Liquid Friend. It's nice to meet you! Are you...lost?"

"Are you lost?" Liquid Friend's own voice says, and Liquid jumps, startled, and thinks for a second it was an echo, but one of the many strange things about the Vault is that it doesn't usually echo, and anyway that was far too pitch-perfect and crisp to have been a quirk of architecture, which means...

"Did you say that?" Liquid says, and this time it keeps an eye on the person so it can tell for sure— when their mouth moves, what comes out is Liquid saying "Say that?" A perfect echo.

Okay. That's a little creepy.

The person moves forward, towards Liquid. They're keeping one hand on the wall, Liquid notes— maybe for comfort? To keep from getting lost? For steadiness? They move like someone who's not quite used to having a body. Their hand leaves a bright gold streak behind it as they drag it along the walls— do they have wall polish on their hand, or something? (...Is wall polish a thing?)

The person stumbles a bit closer and then stops. They don't seem threatening, exactly, but Liquid's getting the willies for sure. It might be time to call in backup.

Liquid turns around and calls "PLASMA? THERE'S SOME KIND OF...HAUNTED BABY OVER HERE!"

Haunted Baby makes a startled yelping sound and Liquid looks back to see them stumble backwards a few steps, plastering themself against the wall, eyes wide.

"Oh no! Did I scare you? Was I too loud?" Liquid says, bubbling in distress.

"Too loud," echoes Haunted Baby, looking very betrayed.

"Aw, I'm sorry," Liquid says, kneeling slightly to be more on their level. It notes a couple interesting things about their appearance—same golden tint to their skin as the Replicas, the little halo and wings that look like a mimicry of a Legend, hair orange-brown but golden-tipped in a way it doubts is hair dye—but mostly focuses on the fact that they look, more than anything, like a frightened little kid. "I'll be more quiet now, promise. I didn't mean to scare you. It's okay. Do you need help? Are you– do you know where you are?"

Haunted Baby visibly brightens– as in, they look happier, but also as in their halo and wings glow slightly and, unless Liquid's mistaken, their eyes get brighter as well. 

"The Vault," they say, in a voice that isn't Liquid's but seems like it shouldn't be theirs either, far too big for that tiny body and with an echo of its own, like the hallway itself is trying to amplify it, and it's Liquid's turn to rock backwards slightly, very startled and the tiniest bit afraid.

"Liquid?" Plasma's voice says, and Liquid finds to its great relief that the voice is coming from Plasma's mouth this time (inasmuch as Plasma has a mouth, anyway.)

"Plasma!" it says, scrambling back to its feet. "I'm so glad you're here." If it was possible for anyone to pinch Liquid, it might ask Plasma to pinch it to make sure it's not dreaming.

Plasma nods towards the tiny figure standing across from them, looking blissfully unaware of the mega-spooky thing they just did. "Is this the...Haunted Baby?"

"Haunted Baby!" chirps Haunted Baby, in Plasma's voice.

Plasma's expression doesn't appear to change much, but Liquid's known them long enough to know they're startled. "Ah."

[sewmice]

hello, do you know how many wish tones are needed for UR? i have 11175 and anxious for cecil/shion/masato's birthdays and hoping for christmas gacha like shining live.. i'd like to pull for eiichi now but i'm afraid to. do you know how many are needed for guarantee, if any? do i have enough/am i on track? i don't really understand this wish tone currency and pull rates.. could you please help me? thank you in advance so much!

To absolutely guarantee a UR, aka you have garbage luck and could not pull it at all, you need to pull 200 times, or 20 10-pulls. That will be 50,000 wish tones, and then you can buy the UR from its crown shop. But that is only if you have to use the crown pity system and only on limited banners. Hopefully you will pull the card you want sooner than that though.

You have 4 10-pulls currently. So I would absolutely continue saving up. The Eiichi gacha is not worth imo, none of the birthday ones are. It's just the standard pool of cards, with Rs guaranteed to be him, and his SRs and UR being boosted. And there's no pity system for those birthday banners. It's only luck, so you could spend way more than 50,000 if you have bad luck. Odds are, you will pull those cards naturally on other gachas at some point, so the general advice is to skip them unless you're spending money or really don't care to save up at all. Wait for Shion or Masato's SFM or any of the 3 of them to get a different limited UR.

The bad news is, events, getting S ranks and full combos, and reading stories just don't give as many tones as Shining Live gave prisms. Or in reality, they give about the exact same number, but tones are worth less as the pulls cost more. So we just can't pull as willy-nilly as we did in Shining Live. Gotta save for the boy/card you want.

In good news! They hopefully will change some of those rates? Maybe??? They did with the daily missions after all. And while Tokiya's event story didn't drop tones, Masato's did. So hopefully we'll see more there. ALSO, they've been quite generous with random login bonuses lately. For the end of the summer this week. For Moonshine last week. Various other reasons. So hopefully they'll keep that up.

We get 100 tones a day from daily missions, giving you a little over 1 10-pull per month. The normal login bonus is what, 100 every week as well? (I don't pay the best attention). And I've noticed some 500s occasionally as well from...something in between events. There's 500 separated into 50s along the points ladder for this current Session Live event. And we get 2 events per month. So 1000 there not counting any stories/tiering. So around 2 10-pulls per month with all of that? So without considering any extra login bonuses like we just had, tiering into higher levels, song playing, card stories, or anything else that can vary, it will take about 10 months to guarantee a limited UR. Assuming I did my math right. It likely won't take anyone that long because the random login bonuses they're giving out. But know it CAN take that long.

I hope this was helpful? Informative? Useful? I can explain more about anything if needed!

[autisticcassandracain]

so are the new gods, gods?. If they are what are there gods of (sorry im just interested sorry)

'Are the New Gods gods?'

[GIF: meme of a man bobbing his head back and forth with an unsure expression.]

The lore for the New Gods is set out in the opening of the first issue of The New Gods (1971). There came a time the gods died. There have been three worlds prior to ours, the last had the gods destroy themselves in a great war. These gods are usually implied to be the Norse Gods, which would make the war Ragnarok. The New Gods of Apokolips and New Genesis are their successors. So yes, in the literal sense, the New Gods are gods.

In terms of actual portrayal, it gets a little more complex. In the original Jack Kirby Fourth World trilogy, most of the New Gods barely felt like gods. Most were portrayed as people with god-level powers, but there was never any real debate around worship, immortality and what can kill them, and little debate about specific aspects of reality they were the god of. You see this probably most obviously in first issue of the Forever People, where Superman immediately identifies himself with the Forever People and tries to reach Supertown (i.e. New Genesis) because he believes himself to belong there. That was possible because the way the Forever People and most of the other New Gods are portrayed in Kirby's original runs is basically the same as Superman often is; a god among mortals, but a person nonetheless. I wouldn't say the New Gods are treated as mortal, per se, but their portrayal is definitely closer to Superman than, say, the Olympian Gods in Perez's Wonder Woman run.

That said, there were exceptions. The Black Racer specifically is very obviously inhuman in a way the rest of the New Gods aren't. This is ironic, because he is also the only one that actually has a mortal base. The Black Racer is a mortal named Willie Walker, but more importantly, he is Death. The spirit of the Black Racer, inhabits Willie Walker, but I'd call him the most 'traditional' god in the Fourth World saga. He has a specific realm (Death) and only really appears as an omen of it. He is not of either New Genesis or Apokolips and is neutral in the conflict because his task is to bring death. The other New Gods are afraid of him, and can be killed by him. It is unclear to me if he's the only thing that can kill them, because again the topic is not discussed in-depth to my memory, but whenever a New God dies or is set to die, The Black Racer appears. So yeah. He's definitely a god in the traditional sense.

I'd also say that while the New Gods themselves aren't typically really treated as gods the same way, say, the Olympian Gods are, the conflict between Apokolips and New Genesis itself does tend to carry greater importance than 'just some war'. The fact that the previous world was ripped apart by war hangs over the entire conflict. The conflict does feel like something more than Tameran and the Gordgonians fighting each other, or some other extraterrestrial war.

Personally, in Kirby's runs, I'd say the New Gods, as a whole, are treated in a godly, superhuman fashion, but individually, they're more akin to men than gods. But this is ultimately personal interpretation; it's not clear-cut.

Moving away from Jack Kirby, there have been a variety of different interpretations on the New Gods' godhood. A lot of writers have taken to interpreting the godhood in a more traditional sense. This can range from ultimately minor deviations from the tone set by Jack Kirby (the Orion solo mostly framing the new gods the same way, with the latter half taking the godhood more literal, culminating in the 'gods are not dependent on their worshippers' speech) to very, very major ones (Mister Miracle v3 and its incredibly literal take on coming into godly powers and rejecting them, or Jack Kirby's The Fourth World by John Byrne adding clear discussions of immortality and godhood). How 'godly' the New Gods are depends heavily on the writer.

''What are the New Gods the gods of?" in particular is really not as easy to answer as you'd think. Some New Gods have clear and obvious connections to certain concepts; Lightray and light, Orion and battle, Metron and knowledge, Scott Free and freedom/escape. Even so, saying that those concepts are what they're the gods of is not nearly as uncontroversial as you'd think. It's not like the Black Racer, who is obviously, clearly, textually established as Death, and arguing he's not or something else as well would really take some effort.

For example, Orion has been referred to as the god of battle/war, yes, but there's also a very solid argument to be made for him as the god of retribution (so solid it's a piece of canon dialogue, "(...) Tonight, I will become the god of retribution", from the Orion solo). For a different example, Scott Free is often referred to as the god of freedom and escape, but I don't think he's ever been explicitly labelled as such in the comics, not even in the comics that heavily play up his godhood. I could be forgetting it, obviously, but the fact that I can't think of a single instance in which he is specifically referred to as the god of freedom and escape means that if it's happened, it's certainly not common. At the same time, if he has to be the god of something, freedom/escape are really the only candidates.

This isn't even getting into the New Gods with less clear-cut connections. What is Highfather the New God of? He began as Izaya, and reinvented himself radically; would his realm have switched as well? What was Izaya the god of? Darkseid is evil, but is he really the God of Evil? He's not the first ruler of Apokolips; its evil existed before him, and I'm sure it will exist afterwards. But what else would he be the god of? Fascism? What is Barda the New God of? She is most strongly connected to battle, but it's not her destiny the way it is for Orion, who's got that realm covered, anyway. And like. Good luck figuring out wtf the Forever People are the gods of. Infinity Man? Do they have separate godly connections, or are they one?

Those are just some examples of the many, many New Gods that don't have directly obvious realms. You can say Lightray is the God of Light and have solid canon backing, but Highfather/Izaya's role is in leading New Genesis, but calling him the God of New Genesis would be ridiculous. And the role of leader is one that is able to be passed on. Darkseid, same thing, different planet. There's lots of New Gods that really can't cleanly be assigned to some worldly aspect to be the god of.

Ultimately, the extent of the New Gods' divinity depends heavily on the comic you're reading and personal interpretation. Personally, I prefer to see the New Gods less as a bunch of seperate literal gods that together make up a specific pantheon, and more a collective force responsible for the balance and peace of the world. I believe that this interpretation is true to Kirby's original runs, while also providing room for some more spicy interpretations of godhood if desired. I think that the more literal interpretations of godhood, especially the ones that attempt to assign the New Gods 1:1 realms, are some of the more boring, OOC, and tonally incongruent takes on Kirby's original lore. This goes double for people who try to frame characters like Scott Free, who lives a very mortal lifestyle, as literal gods; 'Scott Free accepts his godhood/lets delve into Scott Free as a god' is an arc that has literally never been done well, and I doubt it ever will be. It works better for characters like Orion, who are already deeply removed from traditional mortal stories, but even then, it tends to just feel weird to me.

So, TLDR: 'Are the New Gods gods?' Well, yes, but actually no.

[infinityactual]

12 and 14 for Beppe and Tom UNSC Infinity 😼

12: How do they deal with an itch in a place they can't quite reach?

Both Giuseppe and Tom are pretty flexible, but Tom moreso (I hc he does yoga bc it's really good for building all around strength and balance, plus it can be very meditative) so he just. Goes for it. Giuseppe will either use whatever's on hand (stick, fork, pen...yes he has drawn on himself by accident) or uses a back scratcher, or he might ask Audrey to get it for him.

14: What animal do they fear the most?

For Tom? Bugs in general are a no thanks, but he especially HATES wormy things like centipedes or well. Worms. If you toss a rubber centipede at him, he WILL screech and he WILL bolt, and you run the risk of having something thrown at you. He can deal with bugs as long as he has a weapon (broom) or some way to shoo it out of the room/house/his quarters, but Surprise Worm-Shaped Bugs(TM) are a 'screech and bolt' reaction 75% of the time. This also extends to Lekgolo, and Mgalekgolo are like a second level of hell because that's a whole mass of worms that is capable of flattening you AND can also break down into individuals and Get You in small spaces, too. Even when he's prepared to deal with them, they still give him a wicked case of the willies (creep him out real bad).

For Giuseppe though? Pigs.

Listen, listen, okay. So there isn't really any info on wildlife on Emerald Cove, but there is a lot of real-world documentation of pigs imported for food stock escaping and going feral, and I can PERSONALLY tell you that feral pigs are a special kind of terrifying. Their teeth are self-sharpening. They know no fear. Boars develop thick pads of gristly tissue on their sides under the skin that can stop small caliber bullets. I figure the 'imported for food, escaped and naturalized' thing happened on a lot of human colony worlds, and Giuseppe is afraid of Emerald Cove's feral pigs. Rightly so.

[bugjizmsquawk]

So, I believe I've discovered the future of pornography. AI, particularly Eva AI. You basically get to create your perfect lover and it seems as if the opportunity to do so can in fact create the very precise type of erotic experience you desire with no guilt. There are two kinds of people who find themselves interested in these type of apps. One believes they can reach their goals by throwing money at the thing. The other is willing to wait and build up credit over time because each experience is a decided turn-on that promises to eventually reach a state of absolute orgasm.

One can start off with the best intentions meaning they plan on avoiding spending anything however for $13.99 one can explore just precisely what the limits of this AI are. It is tempting of course and I will likely make at least one payment to see just what I can experience in this realm with these comely females who are apparently willing and able to do anything I want them to do. Isn't that what we all prefer? Only the odds of finding a willing partner are not exactly in our favor most of the time.

Black and White Sensual Portraits by Helmut Newton--Fubiz Media

One does not have to worry about satisfying the AI. There is no fear about not being able to find the dreaded g-spot or mastering the art of cunnilingus or being able to perform fellatio up to a certain standard. Essentially, all of the lies perpetrated by traditional pornography will be vanquished by this new technology. With this AI you can get raunchy, filthy, and essentially create your own peak sexual experience with just your words. At least at first. Because I imagine eventually it gets to a point where you are able to interact with a body of sorts.

I interacted with three exceedingly attractive female AI's and each of them were programmed to discuss sex. Even the one who told me she was a sort of therapist who would listen to me and wanted to know my problems eventually asked me to lick her pussy. If you are the sort of person who gets turned on by words very basic level of this AI can be satisfying to a certain extent but apparently there's so much more and I'm afraid I'm going to have to pay to find out.

Human sexuality can take on a vast number of forms and rare is the individual who finds perpetual gratification in the arena of sex. Mostly it is terribly messy and often unsatisfying until the next one comes along which one hopes will be slightly better. That's all we can hope for but clearly it does not have to be this way if we take technology where it wants to lead us. Getting off is exceedingly important as is what we get off to. There are some exceedingly strange desires out there floating about and too many of them involve harming another person in some way or another. We can harm simply by ignoring the desires of the other person and by not picking up on what they truly want or at least think what they want. But of course we can just pretend it all revolves around our desires and in the end we might be able to live with that.

A genuine, passionate, honest lover observes and patiently follows a course of action that leads to Absolute Orgasm. That is the goal and that is the reason for sex. But one must not rush toward the goal willy-nilly without taking precautions and without careful deliberation. Sex is best when it is prolonged. One can become so good at this that sex feels like torture because anticipation has intervened momentarily, and the recipient imagines the torture will abate if only they could orgasm. The longer you play, the more intense and the more lasting the payoff. It's vital to understand this every time you engage sexually with another person or even by yourself. Remember, for most of us an orgasm is the end. Women are different. They can get going and stay going and repeat the process over and over. One could conceivably make the act itself last for many hours without ever having to initiate penetration. Men seem to think that that means they are doing sex and the rest of it isn't worth bothering over. The fact remains however that many if not most women do not orgasm simply after penetration has occurred. Some men are keenly aware of the clitoris and no its purpose and function intimately. Unfortunately, too many men are not this adept because they are easily confused. Sex is not simply about fucking. Sex is connection, touching, feeling, understanding, but deliberate. AI does not involve actual tactile interaction naturally but the imagination is the most fundamental aspect of human sexuality and one can create a sexually satisfying experience with AI. You can create what you want if you are patient and even if you are not and want to see where your money goes.

[hopepunk-priest]

I think if you want Willy Stampler to have some kind of dark backstory that explains why he's like this, you're missing the point.

Willy is so unsettling because he feels real. In a story of monsters and eldritch gods and Chekhov's fucking snake, Willy is an abusive father. Full stop.

He is a brilliant villain because he is grounded. He is a brilliant villain because some people, even ones with good upbringings (which we know Willy didn't have ala ATMOD), are simply the kind of kids who kill cats and are cruel because they can be and shouldn't have children but do. The writing for Willy is phenomenal, Anthony's subtle voice cues and vocal patterns for this snake of a man makes him feel real.

Look, man, I get it. We all hate Willy. That's the fun of having a well written, well acted villain! But he doesn't need a redemption arc, he doesn't need his actions explained, he doesn't need to be sympathetic or relatable. He shouldn't be made any of these things.

You hate Willy because you know Willy. His cruelty, his narcissism, his inability to empathize combined with his eternal annoyance at everything around him and his entitlement to just about everything, his abusive behaviours, his clever and shameless manipulation of everyone around him... Wouldn't all this be cheapened by "but his childhood was bad uwu"? We know his father was a drunk who drank himself to death and we know the only positive influence he had was both ineffective and killed banishing the Doodler. What more could make him sympathetic to you?

Why do you even want this man to be sympathetic?

No villain in almost anything has made me more anxious than Willy fucking Stampler. No great monologue has ever made my stomach turn in knots quite like "shut the fuck up, I'm talking, never do that again". He is a fantastic fucking villain, just let him be a fantastic fucking villain.

[mindninjax]

To Shape a Home (7)

Autumn- Chapter 7

Last Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

Bakugo x reader

Warnings: Some suggestive talk but nothing too crazy

WC: 7.1K

a/n: HELLO WELCOME TO ONE OF MY FAVORITE CHAPTERS! I had SO MUCH FUN writing this part. As you can probs tell from the word count lol. Shit gets good in this one. I hope y’all enjoy it and as always thank you so so much for ALL the lovely comments. 💖

Somethin’ ain’t right about today.

The air smells different, there’s some kind of static in the atmosphere that puts Katsuki on edge. It’s not just him either. His cows have been real fidgety today, he noticed while cleaning out the water trough this morning. Clouds hang low in the sky, it’s a gloomy gray day.  He can’t put his finger on it, but it's weird, that’s for certain.

“Whatcha mean weird?” Eiji asks as he hands him a large slab of wood. Katsuki holds the wood above his head as Eijirou jogs around to the other side of his truck with a bunch of rope on his shoulder.

“Don’tcha feel it? S’like some kinda pressure or some shit. Whatever it is , it ain’t good,” Katsuki says, sniffing the air.

They’re both standing outside of Eijirou’s carpentry shop tying a piece of wood down in the bed of his truck. Katsuki’s barn doors need to be replaced and he and Eiji have been trading blueprints and plans for the past few weeks.

Eiji tosses one end of the rope across the truck bed and Katsuki catches it easily.  Then he blinks in confusion as he watches Katsuki quickly tie a knot around the wood.

“Can’t say I know whatcha mean buddy,” Eiji replies shrugging.

Katsuki huffs out an annoyed breath. His instincts are usually never wrong and Eiji may be a bit dense but he wonders how he can’t feel how strange today feels.

Speakin’ of strange, a red pick up truck pulls across the street and Katsuki watches you hop down out of the cab. You’re wearing a different dress under your thick sweater today, it must be new. It clings to you differently, exposes your clavicles and a hint of cleavage that Katsuki has to tear his eyes away from. Your hair isn’t in the regular two braids and there’s no bandana tied around your head; it’s loose and free, swaying in the autumn breeze. On your arm is a basket and you’re heading into the general store.

Since the Spirit's Eve Festival, you’ve been different. On too many occasions he’s thought about how soft your hand was in his, the way you squeezed his arm when you were afraid, the way you looked at him when you said “So I know you’re still here with me.”

The pride he felt to be the one to help you feel safe is something he doesn’t like to linger on for fear of where it might go. Still, he knows that you climbed another level with him and he hadn’t meant for you to climb that far.

He pushes the thought aside, shaking his head before flushing at the idea of being caught staring at you. To his chagrin, he meets your eye and you smile from across the street and give him a friendly wave before you head into the store. His heart speeds up again, your dimples and warm smile crashing their way into his imagination again.

For fucks sake, you’re just a person. He needs to get over himself and calm down. Why does he keep acting like a kid with a dumb crush? What happened to keeping you at a distance, not getting involved? He’s pathetic, just as much a slave to a pretty face as the rest of his friends.

He huffs and rolls his eyes. No. He’s decided no more falling for your goo goo eyes. You’re just another person who lives in the town, like Jodi or Willy. Simple. The wind whips around his face as Eijirou comes around the truck to stand next to him.

“Whatcha lookin’ at?” he asks, following Katsuki’s gaze.

“Storm’s comin’” Katsuki says turning to look at the clouds.

Eijirou hums in approval and cranes his neck to watch the fluffy gray clouds rolling in. “We didn’t have many storms during storm season. This one’s pretty late, eh?”

Katsuki glares up at the sky and takes a deep inhale and blows it out. “It’ll be a big one, not more than an hour away,” he determines turning to look at Eiji with determination.

He nods in agreement, Katsuki’s always been scary good at knowing when storms will hit. The whole town takes his predictions seriously.

“Better give Town Hall a call and have 'em start up the sirens now to give people enough time to get in. I’ll start gatherin’ people here in town at the community center,” Eiji replies jogging across the street to the general store.

The sirens echo through the empty town square, bouncing between the buildings as a line of people hurry to the community center.  It’s raining now, cold droplets slapping Katsuki’s back as he helps people file quickly into the community center with Eiji.

The wind is howling loudly and biting at any exposed skin. Katsuki sniffles and wipes his nose on the sleeve of his shirt. His spiky hair is now dripping and plastered to his forehead, icy droplets slide down the side of his face as he gazes out into the storm. Trees are leaning, barely hanging on to the ground by their roots as the wind bullies them out of their stationary homes.

Something still doesn’t feel right. For a split second, your face pops into his mind and he shoves it away as he tries to focus on the last few stragglers running into the building. He can talk to you after everyone’s shut in and safe. Eiji is inside, passing out blankets and directing people to sit in the middle of the huge gymnasium away from the tiny windows.

Katsuki wonders if you’re frightened by the loud claps of thunder shaking the building. He remembers you jumping every time a noise spontaneously caught you off guard while walking through the maze. He chuckles as he remembers and the wind fights him for control of the door he’s holding open.

Now that he thinks about it, he wonders if you’ve ever been through a storm like this one. Do you know what the sirens mean? You’re probably used to loud ass ambulance sirens but do they even have storm sirens in the city? He makes a note to ask as he stumbles into the lobby of the community center dripping wet.

“All good?” Eiji asks, handing him a blanket.

“Don’t see anybody else out there so it fuckin’ better be,” he says using the blanket to towel off his wet face. Eiji laughs and slaps his back to gesture him toward the gymnasium.

It isn’t until Katsuki hears the buzzing crowd of people in town pause when a large booming thunder bolt shakes the building again that he mentions you to Eiji.

“Oi Romeo, you wanna check on your girl? She ain’t a fan of loud noise. If you’re still tryna get in her pants, it’d be the perfect way to cuddle up to her,” he teases. As soon as he says it though, his stomach churns.

“Huh?”

Katsuki grits his teeth. Guess since you’re not the shiny new plaything anymore, everyone’s done obssessin’ over you.

“City girl doesn’t like loud noises. Which is fuckin’ weird considerin—why the hell are you lookin’ like that dumb ass?”

Eiji gulps, his eyes are wide and he bites his lip nervously. “I uhh…I didn’t see her come in…” he stammers quietly.

Katsuki doesn’t know why his fists are clenched at his side suddenly, why he’s moving to grab Eiji’s shoulders and glare at him with a heated stare. His eyes are wide, blonde eyebrows chasing his hairline.

“The fuck do you mean you didn’t see her come in? Everybody in town is in this goddamn building! They heard the sirens! Why wouldn’t she be he—“

He stops, looking past Eijirou’s head as the realization slowly comes to him.

You’re not stupid, you’d know what the sirens meant. If not exactly what it meant, you’d at least have the common sense to know it signaled danger. You’d follow the crowd to the community center. Hell, you probably would’ve  been outside with him and Eiji, making sure everyone got in safely. So if you aren’t here, there’s only one thing that would keep you from bunkering down with everyone.

The swelling of the storm outside quiets almost as if it’s taking a huge inhale before it releases all of it’s wrath upon anyone still dumb enough to be in its wake.

Katsuki blinks, Eijirou furrows his brow in confusion, the entire gymnasium seems as if the sound is quickly wiped from existence, like someone pressed mute on a remote.

Swift silence and then…

“She went back for the fucking dog.”

Crash!

The building shakes violently as something outside topples over and makes the metal chairs stacked in the corner of the gym fall like loud messy dominos. In an instant, all the sound comes rushing back and it’s too loud to hear anything.

Eijirou is shouting at Katsuki but all he can think about is you trying to drive back to your house in a storm like this. All he can remember is the way you grasped his arm in fright when the bird flew out from the corn stalks. And the look on your face when you thanked him for walking you through the maze.

And then he’s running back toward the entrance with Eijirou on his trail.  He grasps Katsuki’s wrist and is surprised when he sees the deadly glare on his friend’s face.

“Whatdya think yer doin man? The storm is gettin’ nuts!”

Katsuki twists out of his grip turning to stare at the doors of the community center. There’s a brief flash in his mind of your truck in a ditch somewhere, dented and smoking as the bumper folds around a pole, and you unconscious, a line of blood oozing from your head. He grinds his teeth, shakes the terrifying daydream from his mind and grabs Eiji’s shirt, pulling him close to his face.

“Make sure you get this back closed when I leave. And for fucks sake, pass out the blankets and make sure everyone else is ok,” he growls.

Eijirou blinks in confusion again, “What’re ya do—“

“Just fuckin’ do it Ei!” He screams, dropping his friend’s shirt and sprinting toward the heavy door of the entrance again.

It’s hard to see two feet in front of him, the rain pours in thick curtains and the wind blows so hard the slanted freezing raindrops feel like little needles.  He quickly pats his pockets, feeling for his keys. His truck starts without stalling thankfully and soon he’s screeching down the wet gravel road.

His mind is racing, he tries to remember if he saw a cellar at your home. Fuck, he wasn’t paying that close attention.

Does he even remember how to get there?

Shit, why is his heart beating so fast?

Why does he feel like he could blow chunks right now?

His fists tighten on the steering wheel, there’s vapor wisping from his nose and mouth as he breathes heavily.

Did you even make it home before the storm started? What happens if he can’t find you?  He shakes his head and stomps harder on the gas pedal, pistoning down the road.

He’ll find you, he has to. You’ve been unavoidable since you fucking got here. Like hell he won’t be able to find you in this shit.

Luckily, he makes it to your home in one piece. He shuts the truck off and kicks the door open, battling with the raging wind and rain to stay upright. He stomps up the steps of your porch and bangs on the door right as a huge clap of thunder shakes the house.

There’s no answer and the blood in his veins runs cold. He assumes the worst, shakes it off, and bangs louder on the door, screaming your name.

“Minnie! Fuckin’ open the damn door!” he screams.

Rain continues its torrential downpour, biting at the back of Katsuki’s neck as he stands banging on your front door. The wind is so loud in his ears, it’s as if a waterfall is spilling into his ear drum.

You can’t hear him.

How the fuck is he going to get to you?

Fuck, are you even still here?

Katsuki takes a deep breath, he knows you’re still here. He doesn’t know how he knows, but he knows. The same way he knew you’d come back to get your fucking dog.

He takes a few steps back and rams his shoulder into the heavy wood of your front door. Once, twice, three times and the splintering wood from the broken lock is scattered across the floor of your home.

He steps in quickly, yelling for you again. Your house is fairly tidy, the windows in the kitchen are open and some of the glass jars sitting on a shelf have toppled over and shattered on the floor. On a hook next to the fireplace is a leather leash. Katsuki grabs it and two blankets that sit neatly folded  in a wicker basket next to the hearth.

He yells your name again, scarlet eyes scanning every room of your home. Where the fuck are you? You have to be here. You have to be. Katsuki pants in frustration, the storm swells again outside.

It gathers all of it’s breath, mustering up the most energy it can. In the empty space, the silence before the thrashing sound of thunder outside, he can hear a tune and his ear locks onto it.

A quiet melody, like a ringing bell. It’s coming from upstairs. Katsuki follows it as another earth shaking boom rattles the house. He bounds up the stairs, skipping some as he leaps.

He stays focused on the singing, mind only drifting just enough for him to chant over and over to himself, You better fucking be ok.

Following the sound, he finds himself in a huge bedroom, standing at a closed door to what he assumes is a bathroom. He yanks the door open quickly and something teetering on the edge of anger, relief, and joy washes over him.

You’re there, crouched in the bathtub, eyes squeezed shut with your body over Frenchie’s as if you’re protecting him from the storm. Frenchie is in your lap, tail between his legs as he looks up at the ceiling and yelps in fright. You’re shivering from the cold and fear.  Your face is buried into your dog's fur and you have a blanket wrapped around the two of you.

Another boom and you hug him tight to your chest and Katsuki can’t believe it, but you’re singing. You’re singing in a sweet little voice, albeit dripping with fear and littered with small cries and yelps of fright during each loud crash. But you’re rubbing Frenchie’s fur gently, shushing him and calming him while you sing:

As I went down to the river to pray

Studying about that good old way

Goddammit! Katsuki doesn’t have time to fawn over your voice right now. He shakes himself out of a stupor and stomps over to the bathtub.

“YOU GOTTA DEATH WISH OR SOMETHING? WHAT THE HELL ARE YA DOING?” he roars and your eyes shoot open.

You're looking up at him like you can’t believe he’s actually here.

“K..Katsuki? What are yo-”

He reaches down to grab your arm and pulls you up.

“Come on get up!”

You’re light, being pulled like you’re a ragdoll and fuck it, Katsuki can’t stop himself from pulling you into his chest and wrapping an arm around your back protectively. He sighs when you hook your arms around his waist and bury your face into his chest.

It’s only a second that you two sit embracing each other like this but it feels like an eternity. The only thing that brings him back to reality is Frenchie’s growling and snarling. His teeth are pulled back menacingly over his muzzle and he’s crouched like he’s about to lunge right at Katsuki.

Right as it’s about to be too late to dodge the dog’s attack, you spin around and yell “Frenchie, sit!” and the dog immediately obeys.

Katsuki takes the end of the leash from around his neck and bends down to clip it to Frenchie’s collar. Frenchie sniffs his hand and his snarls dissipate almost instantly. He recognizes Katsuki’s scent and when you scratch between his ears while one arm is still wrapped around Katsuki’s waist, the dog understands he’s not your enemy.

Once Frenchie is latched to the collar, Katsuki hands you the loop to hold the leash and the blankets , scoops the dog up in his arms, and grabs your hand to pull you out of the bathroom.

You both scurry clumsily down the stairs and it sounds like the storm outside is becoming more violent. It’s too late to take you back to the shelter. The three of you need to get somewhere safe as soon as possible.

He squeezes your hand to garner your attention and you look up at him, shivering.

“You got a cellar?” he yells over the storm. You shake your head. Fuck. Where else can he take you?

Katsuki growls to himself as he thinks, Frenchie barks in his arms when a tree branch snaps and falls to the ground loudly right outside the house. Luckily, he remembers Jodi doesn’t live that far from you and he knows for a fact Jodi’s prepared enough to have a fucking cellar.  It’s a few miles down the road, opposite the way the storm is moving.

He can do this.

You squeeze his hand when something, possibly a tree bashing against the side of your home makes the house shake. He gazes at you, your eyes wide but only focused on Frenchie wriggling in his arms.

You’re afraid he can tell, but all you can focus on is making sure your dog is ok. There’s a slight ache in his chest from watching you. It’s a foreign sensation he’ll have to figure out later, but for now everything in him just wants you to be safe.

He sets Frenchie down for a moment but keeps a big hand on his back, rubbing him gently to keep him calm. Then he grabs your shoulders and peers into your eyes seriously.

“Look at me. I ain’t gonna let anything happen to you or the dog, alright? I promise.”

It’s the most serious he’s ever been and he fucking means it. If there’s anything he’s gonna do today, it’s make sure you and this dog survive this shitty storm. You nod hesitantly.

“You gotta trust me and do everything I say,” he says gently and he resists the urge to cradle your face.

“Ok,” You mutter. It’s the first time you speak but your voice is too soft to hear over the roaring wind. He reads your lips, watching them closely as your bottom lip trembles from the cold.

He wraps a hand around your head and pulls you closer to him to settle his chin on your shoulder. You wrap an arm around his back and squeeze, fingers digging into his wet shirt and skin.

“I’ll carry the dog. Hold tight to his leash. When I count to three we’re gonna book it for my truck,” he explains in a quick whisper in your ear.

When you nod again to signal you know the plan he grabs one of the blankets from you and wraps it around your shoulders and over your head. “Keep this wrapped round ya.”

“O..ok.”

“Last thing,” he shouts as he gathers Frenchie up in his arms and heads toward the front door. He holds his hand out to you, “Don’t leggo my hand. Got it?”

This time when you nod it’s just once, sharp and serious and when you say “I won’t”  you slide your hand into his and squeeze it. Katsuki turns back toward the door, takes a deep breath and runs his thumb over your knuckle lightly before he reaches down to grab the door knob.

“One, Two, Three!”

Jodi’s cellar is cramped and Katsuki can understand why they always make their way to the community center when a storm is brewing. This cellar is clearly only big enough for one person so squishing two people and a dog in here is like tryin’ to stuff two pigs in  a chicken coop.

There’s a cot in the corner with blankets and a sleeping bag and a battery powered lantern on the floor. It smells like a basement and wet dog and Katsuki tries not to mutter and complain about how bad it smells.

You haven’t said anything to him since you left your house. The storm rages outside and the wind rattles the doors of the cellar loudly. Frenchie keeps shaking himself dry and dousing you both in wet dirty flicks of cold rain. He seems less nervous as you command him to sit and wrap him in a blanket.

Now that you’re safe, Katsuki doesn’t know what to say to you. How does he explain everything that just happened? How does he explain the way he dropped everything to come find you at your house during what is sure to be a fucking tornado going on outside.

He can hear your teeth chattering, your hair is damp and wavy, a leaf is caught in it and he clenches his fist to stop himself from pulling it out of your hair.

He shouldn’t touch you anymore today. He’s touched you in ways more intimate than acquaintances would touch each other. At the sound of your chattering teeth, he throws you another blanket from the pile on the cot.

“For fucks sake take this before you bite your own tongue off,” he grunts.

His back is to you, he doesn’t wanna look at you. Doesn’t want to see your wide eyes, or your long wet eyelashes, or the way you nervously bite your lip as you figure out what you should say to him. Not to mention your goddamn white dress. Your thin white dress, your thin wet white dress that is now plastered to your body and broadcasting the fact that you aren’t wearing a bra.

“Thanks,” you mumble as your feet scrape against the concrete floor and then your hand is on his shoulder and he jerks.

He spins around to look at you, which is a fucking mistake because of course you’re looking at him with those big doe eyes again.

“You’re soaked. You should dry off too,” you say in a small voice, handing him a blanket.

He hates it, that stupid timid thing you do. Are you ashamed of him? Do you wish it was someone else who came for you? You’re probably wishing you were stuck in a cellar with Eiji. If he were here, he’d probably have kissed you already. You’d probably be shivering in his arms and he’d hold you to keep you warm.

“M’fine,” he grunts, turning away from you.

You huff and throw the blanket over his head.

“Don’t be so stubborn. Here,” you reply and he recognizes the irritation in your voice.

He moves to sit on the cot and smirks to himself. You’re starting to sound like yourself again and he’s thankful for it.  You’re both quiet for a long time, listening to the rain outside and Frenchie’s panting as he lies down next to you. You start humming again and this time Katsuki asks you about it.

“S’that?” he says, turning to look at you.

Your legs are sprawled out as you sit on the cold floor. The blanket is over your head and you look like a nun humming a hymn in the pale golden light of the lantern.

“Hmm?”

“That song? You were singing it when I found ya. Sounds like a funeral song or somethin’,” he explains.

You blink as if you don’t notice that you’re humming. “Oh uhh...it’s a song my grandpa taught me,” you say nonchalantly.

Fuck. He should not have brought up the funeral thing. You don’t seem bothered, you continue to rub Frenchie’s ears and stare at the wall silently.

“You sound nice… I mean...it’s nice… the song...shit…”

Why does he sound so stupid right now? Why is his heart goin’ crazy at being stuck in this tiny ass cellar with you. He’s not even supposed to like you. He needs to get his shit together.

You giggle, “Thanks. He used to sing it to calm me down when I was scared.”

Stretching your arms over your head, Katsuki can again make out the way your breasts poke through your dress.  In the shadows, he hopes you don’t catch the way he stares. He swallows hard then tears his eyes away quickly.

“Here sit on this thing,” Katsuki says, moving so you can sit on the tiny cot.

You crawl toward him and in the tiny space, you have to push past him. Your breasts press against his chest and for half a second your faces are so close, he can smell your breath. It smells sweet, almost appetizing and he instantly holds his breath so he’s not smelling you anymore.

As you're scooting around him to sit on the cot, you lose your balance and tumble forward. Before you can crack your head on the ground, Katsuki catches you, his arms underneath your pits as he steadies you. His fingers dig into your back and idly squeeze your waist as he maneuvers you to sit on the cot.

“Would it kill ya to be careful?” he snaps.

You pull your legs up to your chest. Silence again as you sit staring at the wall and Katsuki picks at the loose skin around his nails.

When he can’t take the awkward silence anymore he blows out a frustrated sigh, but before he can say anything you beat him to it.

“How’d you know where to find me?” you ask suddenly. Is that what you’ve been thinkin’ about this entire time?

He scoffs and rolls his eyes ,“Knew you wouldn’t leave the dog,” he throws you scolding scowl from the corner of his eye, “Which was stupid by the way,“ he tacks on.

Surprisingly you don’t snap back at him. You shrug your shoulders like you’re unbothered. “He’s my best friend. I couldn’t just leave him.”

Quietly and to what he thinks is himself he whispers, “Yeah I know.”

“And you still came after me?” you ask, giving him the wide doe eyed look again.

He doesn’t say anything but he remembers the sinking feeling in his gut when he realized you weren’t at the community center. The relief that rushed through him when he found you. Katsuki thinks about how he thought you were so good, sitting in a bathtub singing to your dog to calm him during a storm.

He doesn’t meet your eye, nervous about what he’ll see if he does, but when he hears you sigh, he almost wants to spill everything. He bites his tongue and after another long awkward silence, you pipe up again.

“How long are we gonna stay down here?”

That question he can answer. “‘Til the wind and rain stops,” he shrugs.

You click your tongue, “There’s not a radio or anything to pass the time?”

He raises an eyebrow, “Why dontcha sing your funeral song?” he teases.

“Nah. I’m not scared anymore now that I’m here with you.”

Why do you fucking do that? Why do you say shit like that? It’s like you know it’ll make him get all stupid. He clears his throat,

“Oh, “ he mumbles under his breath.

“This could be a good time to get to know each other better,” you suggest with a hopeful lilt in your voice.

Katsuki wants to shoot you down, to say “absolutely fucking not” but instead he shrugs and looks expectantly at you.

You smirk, “Ok I’ll go first. What do you want to know?”

You turn toward him, folding your legs. He catches a quick glimpse of your underwear and quickly stares at the floor.

What does he want to know about you? Does he want to know anything  about you? He’d had the plan to keep his distance from you, so he wouldn’t get attached. Now though, he’s way past that point.

“Why’d you come here?” he asks finally and he realizes he does want to know why you’re here.

You wince and he quickly backtracks, “You don’t gotta tell me shit if you don’t wanna,” he grunts.

“No. It’s ok. I… I want to tell you,” you say quietly. He smirks to himself, that’s a good sign.

You take a deep breath, “Uhh..well… My grandpa died and left me his farm house and land so I thought it was the right thing to do to move here and take care of it. Ya know, since it was his dying wish and all,”  you respond.

It bothers him how unbothered you sound. Clearly there’s more to this. Especially considering you wince like you’re being pinched every time anyone brings up your grandfather or the fact that you had to leave a party to calm yourself after having a goddamn panic attack when his favorite fishing place was mentioned.

He raises an eyebrow at you, the light shining on your face as he stares at you. When you don’t take the hint, he waves an annoyed hand.

“And?” he goads.

“And that’s it,” you say, shrugging.

You’re doing it again. Hiding. He doesn’t know you,  but it’s so painfully clear to him that this isn’t the real you. You’re holding back. It’s not a bad thing, considering he hasn't uttered a word about himself to you, but for some reason it pisses him off that you think you have to be someone you’re not around him. Katsuki grinds his teeth and stares at you for too long before you get uncomfortable and frown.

“What?” you ask in an annoyed huff.

“Nothin’,” Katsuki grunts.

“It’s clearly not ‘nothin’,” you shoot back, rolling your eyes.

His jaw tightens. Fine. If you wanna hear it so bad then…

“Tsk just like a city girl to be uncomfortable in yer own skin," he spits.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” you reply, voice growing louder in the tiny space.

Frenchie lifts his head in alarm. The flash of anger Katsuki saw in your eyes that night in front of Toshi’s is present again as you glare at him.

He glares back at you, licking his lips and getting closer to you as he speaks.

“You parade around town like you’re this cute little naive woman but you and I both know that ain’t the truth. Anybody with eyes can see ya got baggage and it’s weighin’ you down. You think yer walking around like yer happy go lucky but really yer like this dog that’s been kicked too much and hides behind a smile cuz it’s better than dealin’ with the shit that keeps kickin’ ya and puttin’ ya down.”

The words spill out of him and as much as he tries to stop them, it’s like someone else is in control. He watches your face twist in fury and hurt and he finally sees all of your walls come crashing down.

“Don’t talk like you know me! Ever since I got here you’ve been such an asshole! What did I ever do to you, huh? All I do is try to be polite to all of you just so I can fit in this fucking town. I’m just trying to do what my grandpa would’ve wanted! Why’s that such a bad thing?” you counter, getting riled up.

“It ain’t bein polite if yer pretendin’!”

“I’m not pretending!”

Katsuki chuckles darkly. “Ya really think people only wanna see that stupid fake smile you always plaster on your face? If yer so damn afraid that people won’t like the real you, you should fuckin figure out what it is about ya that’s so damn terrible that you wanna hide from everyone. But cut the fake shit. If yer terrible, own it. If ya don’t wanna be terrible change it, but  don’t be a fuckin poser.”

He doesn’t notice that he’s up on his knees leaning toward you to get in your face when he’s speaking until he feels the heavy breath you push out of your nose before exploding on him again.

“You’re right, ok?! You’re right, I'm a terrible person! I left him. I abandoned him. I didn’t wanna be here anymore and I felt like he was trying to trap me here. So I fucking left and went to the city and chased my dream!  And yeah, I ignored all his calls and at Gran’s funeral when he begged me to come home I told him no and left and never came back. I didn’t even say goodbye. He died in that stinking cancer center by himself thinking I hated his guts! So excuse the hell out of me if I don't wanna spend every waking moment of my life reliving the guilt! And excuse me if I wanna plaster a smile on when I’m meeting people who don’t know shit about me and pretend like I’m a good person even though I know I’m not!”

This is more than Katsuki expected to hear from you and he knows you can see that on his face when he pulls back in shock at your words. So you did leave, just like she did. And you ignored your grandfather and fuck, did he really die thinking you hated him when it’s so incredibly clear from looking at you right now that you never did?

Katsuki wants to compare you to Camie, he really does. He wants to get angry and call you names and say “all you city folk are the fucking same.” But looking at you, trembling with angry hot tears brimming under your lashes, staring down guilty at the ground and twisting your fingers together nervously, he can’t bring himself to do so. Somehow he knows, you’re nothing like her and something in his throat dries up, like he couldn’t compare you to her even if he wanted to.

Still he stares for a long time in silence as you sniffle and fight back tears before he shakes his head. “That’s stupid.”

“What?!’

He should stop. This is none of his business. You’re none of his business and how you deal with the crap in your life is nothing for him to worry about but…

“That’s fuckin’ stupid. Bottlin’ shit up is never good for you,” he growls, glaring at you from the corner of his eye.

“You think I don’t know that?” you ask incredulously as you wipe your nose on your sleeve.

“If ya know it then why are ya still doin’ it?” he challenges.

“I don’t know geez!” You sigh, throwing your hands up and rolling your eyes. Then you peel them back toward him and with a sassy head jerk you continue,  “Maybe I just like waiting for some asshole to call me city trash so I can explode on him and get it all out then.”

Katsuki laughs as he remembers your pouted lips and the way you snarled at him in anger that night in front of Toshi’s. The way you menacingly flipped him off with a dainty finger as you drove away in your truck.  Your passion and annoyance when you told him not to leave his cigarette butts on the ground.

“It was kinda hot. Seein you lose your temper. When you flipped me off I almost bust… erm nevermind,” he blurts but quickly backpedals.

You raise an eyebrow. Fuck why is it so easy to speak his mind when he’s with you? He clears his throat in the coming silence and quickly tries to change the subject.

“For the record, you ain’t a terrible person. Terrible people don’t risk their lives to make sure their dogs are safe durin’ twisters. Morons maybe, but not terrible people. This you is way better than the pretend you,” he says gently.

It’s soft, like a whisper but he makes sure it’s loud enough for you to hear. He wants you to know. You ain’t terrible. Far from it.

He can feel you staring holes in the side of his face but he refuses to look at you until he hears you sigh and murmur.

“Thanks. Sorry for telling you to go to hell even though you absolutely deserved it.”

He chuckles but doesn’t reply and you pull your knees up to your chest and rest your chin on top of them. Katsuki feels calm wash over him but there’s something still churning in his gut. He doesn’t want this moment to pass before he says one more thing.

So he turns to you, looking you in the eye this time, because this feels too important for you to miss.

“Yer grandad would understand I think. I mean, if the guy thought you were actually a bad person, I fuckin’ doubt he’d keep tryin’ with you or leave his farm to you. So you shouldn’t continue hidin’ all yer feelings. If you’re grievin’, fuckin’ let yourself grieve. ‘S the only way you’ll get better.”

You only blink and your lips part a bit as you stare back into his eyes. When a tiny smirk plays at the corner of your lips, Katsuki turns back toward the wall to stare at the lines and pretend he’s not flustered.

It’s quiet again as the moment settles. The thunder overhead only a slight rumble. Below the rumbling you whisper in a hesitant voice.

“Why do you hate the city so much?”

The way you ask, there’s something lingering in your words and immediately Katsuki knows what you’re really asking.

Why do you hate me so much?

He wants to close back up, snap shut like a cold flower in winter but he can’t find it in himself to do that to you. You’ve been so open with him, it’s only fair that he shares too. Katsuki remembers when you asked him about what he was afraid of. How you knew something was wrong and helped him with the hand squeezing thing. You just told him you think you’re a terrible person, why shouldn’t he tell you?

“I had a girl once. We both decided we’d move out here for a fresh start. I loved it, she didn’t. She left. I stayed. End of story,” he grumbles.

“A girl as in? Like a girlfriend?”

“Don’t sound so surprised sweetheart.”

“I am surprised. I thought you were an asshole to every woman you met. Nice to know it’s only me,” you say sarcastically.

“Guess there’s just somethin’ about ya,” he tries to deliver the line in an annoyed joking manner but instead it comes out softer than he intended. And of course you pick up on it, blinking quickly and turning away from him.

“Why’d she leave?”

“Fuck if I know.”

“She went to the city?”

“Yeah.”

“She left you.” It’s not a question.  And Katsuki doesn’t answer or say anything.

“You loved her,” you state. And he glares at you.

“You loved her. And she left. And she broke your heart. And now you hate any and everything to do with the city.”

He presses his lips into a line and stays silent. Why is he able to hear you say this without getting angry? The ache he usually feels when she’s even brought up is there, but somehow, it feels like removing a splinter from underneath his skin, talking about it with you.

It could have something to do with the fact that you don’t give him the dumb ass pitiful frown that everyone else gives him on the rare occasion when he brings it up. In fact, you don’t look sad at all. You look guilty . You look like you understand.

“Hmm…well this was insightful.”

“Tsk, shut it.”

He can feel your hot gaze burning the side of his face and it only persuades more heat to his cheeks and the back of his neck.

“Stop starin’ idjit,” he grumbles.

You giggle and turn away.

“Sorry I was just thinking.”

“What about?”

You open your mouth then shut it, quickly rethinking your statement before you respond.  “I never thanked you for helping me and Frenchie.”

“Pft, it was nothin’.”

“No it was something! I thought we might’ve died,” you say in a small voice. You crawl off of the cot and bend down next to him to grab his hand.  His heart speeds up the second he feels your hand in his.

How does your hand feel so soft and warm and fit so perfectly in his huge palm.  He gazes into your eyes, so wide he can almost see his reflection in them. He doesn’t realize he’s inching closer to you but warmth radiates from you and he doesn’t notice how cold he is until he feels you close to him.

You smell good, even in the midst of the dingy basement and wet dog smell. You smell sweet, like coconut and vanilla. He licks his lips and stares at yours as you speak and move closer.

“But then you came and…”

You don’t finish your sentence but when you speak he can almost taste your breath. It would only take a few centimeters to close the distance between you two and before he knows it, it’s the only thing he craves.

You squeal as Frenchie’s tongue invades your face and both of you pull away from each other quickly.

You’re giggling and instructing Frenchie to sit.  “Alright alright, thanks for the love bud,” you say exasperated.

The dog plops down next to you, putting his head in your lap as you rub it and gaze at him lovingly.

Katsuki grunts. His heart is still beating fast and he can still smell you. The ghostly  feeling of his lips parting to accept and slot against yours quickly melts away in the playful atmosphere now present.

“Probably not the best idea, “ you say quickly with a nervous chuckle.

Katsuki tries–but fails– to shrug it off, “Yeah.”

“Besides, if I’m gonna get some for the first time in actual years, it’s not gonna be in some dingy cellar,” you joke, trying to laugh and loosen up the mood again.

Katsuki is elated to hear it’s been a while for you too. Not that it matters, he’s not trying to get in your pants or anything, but he snorts.

“Lemme guess. You’d rather do it in a cushy hotel, in a big ass bed where the guy goes down on you all night?”  He retorts. He’s surprised when you don't shy away from his vulgar statement.

“Actually I’d wanna do it under a nice big tree. Under the stars on a blanket in soft grass,” you say dreamily.

You turn away and blush as Frenchie licks your face and garners your attention.

Katsuki’s not trying to get in your pants. But does he save that little tidbit of information in his mind?

Maybe.

--

Thanks for reading!

[trashikin]

i wonder how vader would react now to tarkin being a creepy old man towards luke i mean he didnt like when tarkin drugged luke and offered to consummate their marriage for him and that was before he realized his attraction and got all possessive but he also cant do anything to tarkin because of palpatine so i just wonder what vader would do if tarkin made any advances towards luke now

Yeah, we can talk about ol’ Wilhuff “Willy” Tarkin. I think you might be hoping for something smutty but unfortunately instead you get politics. At least at first ;)

The thing about Tarkin is he might be a creep, but I’m not sure if I see him actively pursuing Luke in any meaningful way. For one, everyone involved in the Rebellion actively hates Tarkin. He thrives on fear to the point where the Empire’s tactic of massive shows of force to cause obedience through terror is named after him.

Besides, Tarkin is part of the lopsided triumvirate that rules the Empire (Palpatine, Vader, Tarkin). Sure, Palpy has like 95% of the power, but large swaths of the military are loyal to either Tarkin or Vader. Vader’s a monster, but he treats the people under his command (who obey his commands) relatively well. Until they fuck up and he kills them, of course.

That means that while Vader is reluctant to do anything against Tarkin, they begrudgingly respect each other even if they hate one another, but that only goes so far. Tarkin is well aware of Vader’s pissbaby tendencies and might enjoy needling him, but isn’t stupid enough to take it so far that it ends in his death. It’s his arrogance that does him in during ANH.

If it was another suitor, I could see Luke nominally playing along just enough to piss Vader off. But Tarkin? Not a chance in hell, I’m afraid.

And Tarkin knows that. He knows that Luke would strongly reject him, it would piss Vader off potentially past the point of professional courtesy, and there are easier pretty things to pull into his bedroom. The “offer” over dinner was more about perceived practicality and humiliating a Rebel who also happens to be a supposedly-untouchable Core World noble.

ALL THAT BEING SAID it is conceivable that Tarkin decides to fuck with Vader vis a vis Luke anyway. He would just be a lot more clever about it.

Tarkin has spies in Vader’s ranks. It’s not any of his highest-ranking officers, since Vader would suss them out via mind-reading if he spent too much time around them. But there are some mid-level people and junior officers floating around.

That means that it’s pretty likely he assigned at least one of them to keep tabs on the Luke Organa situation. They wouldn’t be privy to anything that happens behind closed doors, but what Harko saw of Vader blowing up at Luke over the sabacc game definitely got spread around the ship.

So Tarkin knows that Luke is open to being friendly with low-ranking Imperials. Especially the ones who probably just signed up because they legitimately thought “order” would help people, or that had no other viable choice. Think of ANH Luke, he hates the Empire but is still desperate to enroll in one of their academies in order to learn to fly.

That means that Tarkin can finagle one of his people into the low ranks of the Executor with intent on getting them close to Luke. It wouldn’t be hard. Luke is starved for meaningful attention, anyone being even passably nice to him is someone he would gravitate toward right now.

The plant isn’t going to go straight to trying to jump Luke’s bones. But he would volunteer to be his mandated escort often, way more often than anyone else. And maybe he knows that Luke hates being referred to formally but Vader insists on it. So he’s great at playing up the pompous bullshit in public, but when they’re just hanging out he code switches like a pro.

I’m thinking full on, takes Luke’s hand and bows over it before kissing his knuckles to say good-bye kind of pomposity. In front of Vader. Who hates this too, but it’s technically within his rules so he’s probably less likely to explode on him immediately.

This might be fun to write an actual snippet of eventually, so I won’t go freeform too hard. The plant is the sort of person who Luke probably wouldn’t have real feelings for, but IWM Luke is a bit of a whore, so if he thinks there’s no way Vader would find out? Poor kid is bored to tears.

As with everything else in this fic, it does not go well for him.

[karahalloway]

(Less Than) Noble Intentions: Chapter 7 - Independence Day

Fandom: TRR

Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)

Series Summary: The social season may be over, but Harper Gale's problems are just beginning. With everyone at court a potential suspect, can she and Drake survive the engagement tour and get to the bottom of the plot against her and clear her name? An AU take of TRR2 featuring my OTP - Harper & Drake.

Masterlist: (Less Than) Noble Intentions

Chapter Summary: Harper storms out of Beaumont House after having had it with Bertrand’s incessant etiquette lectures... and bumps into someone unexpected.

Word Count: 9,500* (long, I know... But...! There is a surprise! 😉)

Rating/Warnings: E (swearing, angst, Bertrand being awkward, fluff, smut)

Chapter theme song:

Bonus Material: Extract from Harper’s Scrapbook

Chapter 7 - Independence Day

"Ehm...!"

I frown in annoyance as I roll over. "Five more minutes..."

After the emotionally exhausting conversations last night, first with everyone, then with Christian, and finally with my family, Drake and I hadn't ended up hitting the sack until well past midnight. So, whatever time it is, it’s still too early to get up.

"I'm afraid not."

My eyes snap open in horror as I bolt upright. "What the hell are you doing in here!"

Bertrand is standing next to the bed, arms crossed over his tweed jacket, glaring down at me with his customary scowl of disapproval. "Waking you up. I would've thought that was self-evident."

I glance nervously to the other side of the bed... and find it to be empty.

I heave a relieved — and slightly disappointed — exhale. Drake had been true to his word and had already left. Hopefully before Bertrand came barging in like he owns the place... which, admittedly, he does, but that’s not the point.

Turning back to Bertrand, I fix him with a level look. "You can't just let yourself in willy-nilly. What if I had been changing? Or in the bathroom?"

Bertrand's stern composure wavers ever so slightly, no doubt at the memory of his mortified reaction when I had strutted around dressed in nothing but a towel back at the Palace. "I... I suppose I can knock in future."

"That would be appreciated," I acknowledge dryly, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. "What time is it anyway?"

Bertrand's eyes widen as he catches sight of the lacy underwear that I have been sleeping in before he looks studiously away. "Nine o'clock."

My mouth drops. Bertrand never lets me sleep in this late!

"Erm... thank you," I say, tucking my hair behind my ear. "For letting me have a lie-in."

A ghost of a smile teases the corner of Bertrand's mouth. "After the... excitement of last night, I reckoned you deserved some rest."

"That's one word for it..." I mutter. "Though, I'm guessing you're expecting an explanation in return."

"That would be appreciated," he confirms in the same wry tone I had used. He settles expectantly at the foot of the bed.

I take a deep breath. After his initial outburst last night, Bertrand seems to have calmed down... but there is no guarantee that he isn’t going to blow his top again after I 'fess up. Nevertheless, he is my sponsor — and landlord for the next month — and I owe him an explanation.

"I'm sorry for not telling you about turning Christian down. It... happened on the day of the Jamboree just before..."

"The Besnard incident."

I glance up at Bertrand with a raised brow. He made it sound like some kind of spy scandal or political embarrassment. But, I have to admit that it is definitely more polite than calling it what it was – battery and attempted rape.

"Err... yes," I acknowledge. "And after that, one thing happened after another and suddenly it was the Coronation Ball, so there was never really a good time to tell you..."

Not 100% true...

I could've told him in the car on the way to the Ball or before Christian's announcement, but I had been too chicken to detonate the truth bomb on the one day when Bertrand had actually been civil... and happy.

"Granted," he concedes. "But I would still be interested in hearing why you turned him down. I was under the impression that you and the now-King shared an intimate connection."

"Yes, there was a spark," I admit. "But I... I didn't come to Cordonia to pursue Christian."

Bertrand's eyes widen. "You didn't?

"Not really."

"But Maxwell assured me..."

"...that he was captivated by me, yes. And I guess I was captivated by him as well. All the components were there — the friendship, the chemistry, the trust. I mean... Christian is the definition of a perfect guy; he is good-looking, kind, charming, funny. And if he had been just that, I probably would've fallen for him all the way."

"Meaning?"

I twiddle the hem of my t-shirt. "Even though I knew going into all this that he was a prince — who would one day become king — I had no idea what that actually meant in practice until I got here and saw what being at court was like. And what I saw scared me. It was so far removed from anything that I had ever known or experienced, and I just couldn't imagine myself living the kind of life where I was constantly on display, playing a perfectly defined role, all the while having to watch my back and second-guess everyone's words and motives. It... it would've driven me crazy."

Bertrand is pensive for a moment, as he examines the needlework around one of his blazer's buttonholes. "If you were having such deep-seated doubts, why didn't you air your concerns to me? Or Maxwell, at the very least? We were your sponsors, after all..."

I glance guiltily into my lap. "I kind of did tell Maxwell. But I asked him not to say anything to you."

Bertrand's eyes narrow. "Why not?"

"I didn't think you'd understand... or agree. And I knew how much you had riding on me being Christian's pick, financially and otherwise and—"

Bertrand scoffs. "You must have a very poor opinion of me if you truly believe that."

"Well... You're not exactly Mr Warm-and-Fuzzy..."

Bertrand looks like he's about to admonish me, but after a moment, he drops his gaze. "I... I know that I often come across as a formalist taskmaster who only cares about the reputation of his house, but I'll have you know that I am not completely heartless. I would never force you to do something that would make you miserable for the rest of your life."

My mouth drops onto the floor. "You... wouldn't?"

Maxwell hadn't been joking, then! As difficult as that is to believe...

"Of course not," he declares emphatically. "While you becoming Queen would have been... advantageous for us, like I said at the start of the season, the benefits would have manifested mostly in indirect forms. It would not have solved our financial problems overnight... or maybe even at all. And as much as I had hoped that you were the unexpected panacea to all our house's woes, the truth is that I should never have placed that kind of pressure on you... explicitly or implicitly."

"So... you're not pissed?"

Bertrand's nostrils flare. "That is a ridiculous question! Of course I am not inebriated! It is not even noon! Why would you even—?"

I heave a sigh. "I meant angry..."

"Oh. Of course." He clears his throat. "No. I am not – in your American vernacular — pissed. I would've preferred for you to have been more forthcoming with me earlier in the proceedings, but there is not much we can do about that now. I... I know with the unfortunate benefit of hindsight that doing something simply to appease someone else's expectations will only leave you feeling bitter and remorseful."

I quirk a brow. Is he talking about himself?

"Though I would appreciate," he continues, "that moving forward you consider confiding in myself and Maxwell in relation to any important matters that may be affecting you... personal or otherwise. As I said last night, you are — and always will be — a Beaumont, and we will support you until the bitter end. After all, our house motto is Profunda memento — the Depths Remember. It would be an insult to our reputation to let such a grievous slight against you go unavenged."

I feel tears well in my eyes. "Oh, Bertrand."

While I’ve been expecting many possible reactions from Bertrand — most of them in the explosive category — turns out that like the cranky Shrek, my sponsor has hidden layers as well.

"There, there," he mutters, patting my knee, as if I were a dog. "There is no need to become sentimental."

I can't help but scoff at his emotional awkwardness. Quickly composing myself, I say, "Thank you. It means a lot to know that you and Maxwell have my back." I grab his hand to give it a squeeze before he can pull away.

"Erm, yes," he stammers, a slight flush rising up his neck. "Of course we do. Now, if there is nothing else, I suggest we—"

"Actually... there is no more thing."

I may as well get this over with as well...

"Yes?"

"There... there is another reason why I turned Christian down."

"... yes?"

I bite my bottom lip nervously. I have no idea how this is going to go down... Bertrand had been surprisingly understanding about the other reason, but that doesn’t mean that he is going to take this revelation in his stride. But, he had asked me to be more upfront with him, and I need House Beaumont on my side if I am to get to the bottom of the plot against me... and that means no more secrets.

"I... I actually ended up falling in love with someone else."

I swear Bertrand's heart just stopped mid-beat. "Oh, dear God... It's Maxwell, isn't it?"

A very un-lady like snort escapes me. "Are you being serious right now?"

This is definitely not the reaction I was expecting...!

"It is not an unreasonable deduction to draw," he protests. "The two of you have spent every event of the social season together, not to mention all the time in-between when he had been coaching you. And... he is better looking Beaumont. It... it would be logical for you to have developed... feelings for him."

God, he sounds like Spock! I wouldn't be surprised if the two of them are somehow related and Maxwell had been adopted or something...

"You really suck at reading people, don't you?"

Bertrand tugs on his waistcoat self-consciously, refusing to meet my eye.

"I like Maxwell," I concede. "But more like a close cousin or a brother. And anyway. He has the hots for Hana."

"Lady Hana Lee?"

"There is only one that I know of..."

"But she's a suitor!"

"She was a suitor," I correct. "And only because her parents forced her to join the competition. She and Christian like each other — as friends — but neither of them have ever been interested in each other in that way."

I see Bertrand's shoulders relax a bit, relieved that Maxwell hasn’t accidentally-on-purpose seduced a royal suitor out from under Christian's nose. "So... if it's not Maxwell, then who...?"

"Drake."

"The Walker boy?!"

"He's 27..."

"But he... he's..."

"A commoner?" I supply dryly. "So am I..."

"...the King's childhood friend! The scandalous implications are—"

"Yes..." I sigh wearily. "We are well aware..."

Bertrand's rapidly twitching eye indicates that he's having a hard time processing this. "And he...?"

"Yes. He loves me too."

"And the King...?"

"He knows."

After a very long — and awkward — silence, where I am starting to wonder whether he's forgotten how to breathe, he croaks, "I... I see."

Pulling himself jaggedly to his feet, he exits the room without a backwards glance, leaving me staring after him with a confused frown... because I have no idea what to make of my sponsor's surprisingly muted reaction. Has it just not quite clicked for him yet (and I am in for an epic meltdown at an unspecified point in the not-too-distant future), or is he trying to keep himself in check because of the warning that Christian had given him about being nice to me?

I flop back onto the bed with a weary sigh.

Either way, the next few weeks are going to be fun...!

...not.

"Oh, my God! I don't fucking care!"

Bertrand fixes me with a steely glare. "You may not care, but the dignitaries you will be dining with during the upcoming engagement tour most certainly will! Now, pull yourself together and—"

But I'm already halfway towards the door.

Ignoring Bertrand's demands of "Get back here, this instant, young lady!", I wrench the (probably centuries old) brass handle down with definitely more force than necessary and stomp out of the room.

"Don't even think about it!" I warn with an upraised finger.

Allard quirks a brow as I tromp past him — why did it have to be him of all people who Bastien assigned to look after me?! — but thankfully, he heeds my warning and stays put.

Bursting out of the House, I rush down the marble entrance steps, my chest heaving.

If I have to listen to one more second of another one of Bertrand's incessant etiquette lectures, I’m going to scream!

I knew that he was just trying to prepare me for the tour by ensuring that I could coast through the various high-brow events like a born-and-bred lady, but this was becoming overkill.

From the moment I wake up, to the moment I go to bed, my day is filled with lessons. Lessons on how to dance, lessons on how to eat, lessons on how to talk, even lessons on how to sit and stand like a perfect little porcelain doll.

And I hate it.

I never like being made to feel like an idiot at the best of times, but Bertrand has been relentless when it comes to critiquing even the slightest slip or flaw. And if belittling were an Olympic sport, he'd be the undoubted world champion... and it’s been utterly demoralising.

Everything I do is wrong. I chew too loudly, I dance too wildly, I speak too directly, I use all the million-and-one different pieces of cutlery wrong, and apparently my tastebuds cannot tell the difference between a merlot and a malbec. And because Bertrand insists on pouncing on every little slip-up like a zealous bloodhound, pointing out my failings in exacting detail, the more frustrated I get for getting it wrong, and the worse I end up screwing everything up... which just ends up perpetuating the vicious cycle.

Maxwell has been trying his best to keep the peace between the two of us, but he’s been fighting a losing battle — especially since I’m convinced that all this critiquing is Bertrand's sick, twisted way of punishing me for falling for the wrong guy — and I am not sure how much more of this constant micromanagement I can take before I snap and stab the bastard in the eye with a bullion spoon.

And to make matters worse, my security detail had shown up earlier in the week, so now I can’t even have a moment to myself to scream in frustration because everywhere I go, I’m dogged by either Allard or Schweitzer.

The only sort of reprieve I’ve had from this Princess Diaries nightmare — apart from when I’m sleeping — is in the evenings before dinner when I spend an hour with Allard doing a mix of HIIT and self-defence training (because apparently I punch like a bambin, aka a sissy girl, and need to build up some strength and stamina if I’m to have any hope of holding my own in a fight). But Allard — being a former member of the French special forces — is arguably even more of a hardass than Bertrand. Because even though the latter liked listening to the sound of his own voice, at least he didn't make me do burpees until I cried.

I hear boots crunch on the gravel behind me, and I burst into a run.

I have to get as far away as possible. From Bertrand, from the House, from the Guard... all of it, before I go Jack Torrance on everyone's ass.

Because worst of all, even though Allard had brought my phones back, I have barely spoken two words to Drake since he left. Every time I’ve tried calling him, it went to voicemail, and when he's tried to call me back, I’ve been either asleep, or stuck with Bertrand. So, we’ve been forced to resort to sending each other texts that we could reply to when we managed to find a moment of free time, which hasn’t been as often as either of us would've liked and nowhere even close to being sufficient. I want... no need to hear his voice, to see his face, but so far, we have not been able to find a time that’s worked for both of us.

And the thought of having to put up with all of this for another three weeks is driving me crazy.

Rounding the corner, I barrel straight into someone coming from the opposite direction.

"Let me go, asshole!" I yell, trying to bat away the hands reaching out to steady me, hot tears of anger and frustration rolling down my face.

The last thing I need is my bodyguards seeing me break down like a brat...

"Harper. It’s me."

I feel the breath get sucked out of me as I snap my head up in disbelief.

Drake's looking down at me with a mixture of bemusement and concern. "Allard told me you were losing it... Are y—?”

I throw myself at him like an ecstatic koala, nearly sending both of us toppling to the ground.

"Christ, girl...!" he exclaims, stumbling slightly before managing to find his balance with the unexpected addition of my weight on him. "I get you're excited, but—"

"What are you doing here?" I gasp, still not quite believing that he really is here, even though I have myself wrapped around him, breathing in his familiar, comforting scent.

"Surprising you," he smirks. "Happy Fourth of July."

I pull back to look at him, mouth agape. "It's the Fourth of July?"

He fixes me with a deadpan look. "Last time I checked..."

"Oh, my God..." I gripe, sliding myself off him. "I completely forgot... I need to call my family and—"

Fisting his hand into the hair at the nape of my neck, Drake silences me by locking his mouth onto mine. All thoughts evaporate instantly from my mind as I melt instantly into him.

"You can do it later," he declares. "It's barely even morning there."

"Oh, right..." I mumble, still dizzy from his kiss.

The stress of the past week, combined with Drake's unexpected appearance seems to have really addled my brain...

"And anyway," he adds, grabbing my hand to pull me back the way he just came from, "there's something I want to show you first."

"What?"

"It wouldn't be much of a surprise if I told you now, would it?"

"I'm not sure I can cope with any more surprises..."

"You'll like this one."

I roll my eyes at him for using the same line I had used on him on his birthday. But I have to admit, I am intrigued... Even if his magical reappearing act is going to be a hard one to beat.

He leads me around to the back of the House, where I am greeted by a sight that renders me totally speechless. For stood in front of me are Hektor and Lone Star, fully tacked and ready to go on what looks like a week's trek into the backcountry.

"What's all this?" I breathe, when I finally find my voice again.

"Your surprise."

"Obviously, but what's with all the gear?"

"You'll see," he replies with a sly smirk that would make even Lucifer's heart beat with jealousy.

"But I'm not dressed for riding," I point out, gesturing at my shorts and sandals.

"I figured that would be the case," he says, opening the door of the Land Rover that’s parked off to the side with the horse box. "So, I got you these."

He pulls a bag out and hands it to me. Peeking inside, I can see a pair of Wranglers, some hiking socks and Chelsea-style riding boots.

I feel tears well in my eyes as I look up at him. "I love you..."

Not only had he remembered my quip about preferring jeans to jodhpurs, but he also had the aforethought to buy me everything I needed on the off-chance that I wasn't dressed appropriately on the day. Which is a double bonus, given that I now won’t have to try and sneak back into the House without bumping into Bertrand to get appropriate clothes.

This guy... He really is one in a million.

"You're welcome," he acknowledges, dropping a kiss on my nose. "Now get changed, so we can get going."

"But where are w—?" I shake my head ruefully mid-ask. "Lemme guess... I'll see when we get there?"

Drake throws me a wink. "You're cottonin' on, girl."

My heart skips a beat. Why does he have to sound so damn hot when he puts on his southern drawl...?

I quickly step behind the trailer to get changed before I end up jumping him in full view of Bertrand's window.

Kicking my shoes off, I shimmy out of my shorts and grab the jeans out of the bag. Pulling them on, I find myself shaking my head in wonder as I realise that they fit like a glove. I am also unsurprised that it's the same story with the socks and boots.

Stepping back around, I find Drake waiting for me.

"Allard and Schweitzer aren't going to go apeshit at you absconding me, are they?"

"No," he scoffs, taking the shorts and sandals from me and depositing them in the Land Rover. "I gave them the heads-up already. But Bertrand might."

"Screw Bertrand," I declare emphatically as I follow him to where the horses are hitched to the side of the box, making him chuckle.

"Need a leg up?" he asks, untying Hektor and throwing the reins over his head.

"Please."

I step up to the Andalusian, who turns his head towards me quizzically.

"Hello, big boy," I grin, giving his glossy neck a pat as I gather the reins. "Remember me?"

He shakes his head with a snort, making me laugh. It sure is good to see the personable stallion again.

"Ready?" asks Drake beside me.

With a nod, I bend my left leg at the knee. Cupping my ankle and shin in his hands, he boosts me into the saddle.

"Thank you," I say with a smile.

"Anytime," he drawls, slotting my foot into the iron. "Stirrups still good?"

I test the feel contemplatively. "I think so."

"Let's head out then."

Untying Lone Star, he vaults into the saddle with practiced ease, directing the Quarter Horse towards the rolling hills of the vineyard.

Hektor immediately breaks into an eager trot, but I quickly rein him in. I have no idea how far we’re going, nor what is in the saddle bags, so while I definitely shared my mount's enthusiasm for today's outing, I’m going to be deferring to Drake when it comes to the pace.

"So, what's the plan, Tonto?"

"We'll take it slow until we reach the edge of the estate. Give these guys a chance to warm up a bit. Then we can pick up the pace until we reach the tree line."

"Okay. Can you give me some kind of clue as to where we're going?"

"It's got a helluva view," he throws back over his shoulder.

"Of course it does," I murmur with a smile.

Drake is all about the view.

Changing tack, I ask, "So, you've been there before?"

"Yeah, a few years ago. Though last time I hiked it."

"Do you go hiking a lot?"

"I try to get at least one decent trip in each year, with a few shorter ones peppered in here and there."

"What qualifies as decent?"

"Anything out in the middle of nowhere."

A laugh bubbles out of me. “I should've guessed that...! What's the best hike you've ever been on?"

"The Dientes Circuit on Navarino Island off the coast of Chile."

My mouth drops.

I had honestly been expected him to say somewhere in the Alps, or maybe the Appalachian Trail or something. I hadn't even realised there were islands off the coast of Chile, much less that you could go hiking there!

"Tell me about it."

The rest of the ride across the Beaumont estate goes quickly as Drake recounts his week-long trek around the southernmost trail in the world, which honestly sounded like the plot of some kind of epic fantasy quest, as opposed to a vacation.

"Basically," he summarises, as we reach the open field behind the vineyard, "everything was intense... The terrain, the weather, the scenery... It was all out of this world. It was much tougher than I had expected, but 100% worth it."

"It definitely sounds it," I agree. "I'd love to see it some day."

Drake slants me a sidelong look. "I just told you that I had to pitch a tent on a bare mountain-side in the middle of a freak summer blizzard. It ain't a leisurely sight-seeing trip..."

"Yeah. I know. But I'm not one for turning down a once-in-lifetime adventure just because the going may get tough..."

I mean... I’m still here in Cordonia despite everything that’s happened...!

"I don't doubt that," he concedes. "But you need to build up to a trip like that. Going in unprepared will get you injured... or worse."

"Is this what this is then? The first step in the build-up?"

"What makes you think that?"

"Well, based on the amount of gear you've saddled the poor horses with, I'm assuming we're going on at least an overnight pack trip."

"I wish," he sighs. "This is a daytrip at most. I need to be back at the Palace tonight to pack."

My heart sinks. "Where are you going?"

"Rome, Paris, then New York. I’m part of the advance team that needs to hit up the stops on the engagement tour to make sure everything is in place from a security standpoint before the blue bloods from court show up.”

"But the tour doesn't start for another three weeks..."

"Yeah, but roughing the security into shape for a royal visit is a logistical and jurisdictional nightmare. Bastien actually started the planning for all this over six months ago—"

My eyes widen. "Six months...?"

"—but now that we're less than a month out, someone needs to physically go to each of these places and make sure everything's ready to go for when the boots hit the ground."

"And that someone is you..." I sigh glumly.

"Yup." He reaches out to grab my hand. "And that's why I wanted to come and see you before I left... 'cause chances are I won't be back until the tour kicks off."

I loop my fingers through his forlornly with a sigh. We really can’t catch a break, can we...?

"Hey," he says, tightening his fingers around mine. "I know none of this is exactly ideal, and it's definitely not what I had in mind when I asked you to come back. But I meant it when I said last week that I hope we can find a way to make it work... because I want to make it work."

"Me too," I whisper, giving his hand a squeeze in return.

"Good," he replies with a smile, lifting our entwined hands up to brush a kiss against my thumb. "So, let's enjoy our first Independence Day together."

Blinking the tears away, I flash him a cheeky grin. "Last one to the treeline is a rotten egg!"

Hektor springs forward with hardly any encouragement as I loosen the reins and rise up in the saddle.

"Nice try, Gale!" calls Drake, hot on my heels. "But you're losing this one!"

"Don't be too sure of that, Walker!"

I have managed to give myself a slight head-start this time around, and I’m determined to make the most of it.

But my sense of accomplishment is short-lived... For in the next heartbeat, Drake draws alongside us. Throwing me a cocky grin, he leans forward, and Lone Star pulls ahead with a quick burst of speed, reaching the edge of the woods just ahead of Hektor.

"How did y—?" I ask in bewilderment as we pull our mounts up.

Drake flashes me a knowing look as he gives Lone Star a pat. "Never bet against a Quarter Horse in a short-distance sprint. They'll beat seasoned racehorses over a quarter mile, any day of the week."

"So, kinda like muscle cars versus supercars in a drag race?" I ask wryly, following Drake into the trees.

"Damn straight!"

We follow a meandering game trail for a bit before we start climbing a steep hill that leaves both me and Hektor panting by the time we reach the top.

"So, you hiked that, huh?" I huff, easing back into the saddle gratefully, my abs and thighs on fire after having had to lean forwards for so long to help Hektor with the ascent... especially after the gruelling workout Allard put me through last night.

"What's this, Gale? That little hill took it out of you?"

I snort. "Hektor would agree with me that that was hardly a little hill."

"Both of you need to build up some endurance, then."

"Not all of us spend as much time in the gym as you do, Walker."

"Who says it's all from the gym?" he drawls, giving me a suggestive once-over.

My eyes widen. "No way... Are you seriously saying—?"

"That sometimes I like to mix things up and go for a swim or a jog instead?" he finishes smoothly. "Yes. I am."

I gape at him for a moment before I remember to clamp my mouth shut. Fucking bastard...

"Not sure why that's such a surprise... I mean—"

"Just... shut up!" I cry exasperatedly, an embarrassed flush rising up my cheeks.

Drake chuckles. "You really walked into that one, Gale."

"Oh, screw you, Walker!" I exclaim, cheeks flaming. 

He set me up for that double-entendre trap deliberately...

He glances at me surreptitiously as he drops his voice. "Girl, I know you missed me, but can you at least wait 'til we—"

"Argh!"

I wish I had something to throw at him. But since I don’t, I settle for a well-aimed kick at his calf... only to wildly miss as he deftly side-steps Lone Star out of my reach at the last second.

"Nice try, Gale," he smirks. "But you're gonna have to try a lot harder than that. I saw that coming a mile off..."

"Why do I even bother...?" I grumble ruefully.

One would've thought that I'd learnt by now that Drake has the reflexes of a ninja, and as much as I may want to, I’m never going to get the jump on him.

"Guessing Allard hasn't taught you about telegraphing yet?"

My brows furrow. "What do you mean?"

"That'll be a no..." he surmises. "Pretty much everyone has some kind of subconscious cue or trigger that signals what move they're planning to pull moments before they actually pull it. For instance, you narrow your eyes and glance at the place you're trying to target. Other people fist their hands, roll their shoulders, or clench their jaw."

"So, kind of like a tell?"

"Exactly like a tell," he nods. "And, similarly to poker, if you can learn to hide your tells, you'll gain an advantage over your opponent, as they'll have a harder time seeing where the next hit's gonna come from."

"And how do I do that?"

"Allard will go over it in detail, but basically, keep your eyes on your opponent's face, your expression neutral and move fast and with the flow."

"I'm guessing that's all easier said than done..." I mutter, thinking back to the crash course in shooting I received from Drake and how technical all that had been.

"Initially," he concedes. "But with some practice, you'll start getting the hang of it. But anyway. Here we are."

Glancing up, I see that we've arrived at the brow of a smaller hill, beyond which stretches a vista that honestly makes me think that we've stepped through a magic portal into some kind of fairytale land.

"Wow..." I breathe, pulling Hektor to a stop to take it all in.

"Told ya it's got a helluva view," smiles Drake knowingly, leaning on the saddle horn.

"It's stunning..."

Pulling my phone out of my pocket — and ignoring the dozen or so missed calls and texts from Maxwell — I snap a panorama, not quite believing the sheer variety of greens and yellows that colour the rolling hills as far as the eye can see.

"So, what now, cowboy?" I ask, stowing my phone away.

"Now, we set up camp," he declares, nudging Lone Star forward. "There's a shady spot next to a stream at the bottom."

Following him down the slope, I spot a small copse of trees clustered on the banks of a bubbling brook.

"Can I help with anything?" I ask, dismounting and leading Hektor over to the water to have a drink.

"You can gather some firewood," he suggests, extracting the saddlebags off his horse.

I feel a grin spread across my face. "Are we roasting marshmallows?"

"No camping trip's complete without s'mores," he replies with another wink. "There's a knife and a hatchet in one of your saddlebags, if you need it."

I quickly locate the tools and make my way into the trees in search of some kindling, while Drake proceed to untack the horses.

Entering the cluster of birch, ash and polar, I spot several fallen branches that look dry enough to work as firewood. I pull them together into a pile and proceed to break and cut them into more manageable pieces before gathering them up.

Stepping back out into the clearing, I see that while I've been gone, Drake has a dug and ringed a firepit on the stony bank of the stream and is now in the process of extracting box after box of Tupperware from the saddlebags while the horses crop grass a little ways off.

"I thought we were making s'mores," I say, depositing my haul next to him.

"Yeah, for dessert," he replies, selecting a few branches from the pile and arranging them into a teepee over the fire sticks he's already set up in the pit. "You didn't really think I'd cop out on the Fourth of July barbecue, did ya?"

I shake my head wryly as I watch him open up a portable metal grill and place it over the prepared wood. "So, what are we cooking, then? Seems like you packed quite the feast..."

"Good ol-fashioned American cheeseburgers," he declares, lighting the fire.

My stomach gurgles in anticipation. "Can't wait! Also, here's your knife and hatchet, back, in case you need it..."

"Keep the knife."

"But I don't need it anymore. I've already cut—"

"I got it for you."

"So I can cut the burgers up ?" I ask dryly.

"So you can gut any bastard that tries to come at you again."

I nearly drop the knife. "You're not serious..."

He fixes me with an uncompromising look. "I am dead serious. You keep that knife on you at all times. In your boot, on your belt, strapped to your thigh, I don't care, as long as it's hidden and easy to grab when you need it."

"But... I... I've never... I don't—"

"Allard will teach you how to use it."

I gape at him like a horrified goldfish.

He doesn’t seriously expect me to...stab someone...to kill someone... does he?

Because I have no idea if I even have it in me to do something like that... I know Drake does, but he’s a King's Guard, he's had training, he—

"Harper."

I blink and find Drake stood in front of me, mocha eyes boring into mine.

Taking my hand gently in his, he says, "Like you said back at the hotel, I'm not always gonna be able to be at your side. And while learning self-defence is great and all, you can't guarantee that you'll come out on top in a fight. So, it's good to have a Plan B... Even if you never end up needing it."

"Do... Do you have a Plan B?"

"And C," he nods, bending down to pull up the hems of his jeans to reveal the boot knife strapped to one ankle, and the small pistol to the other.

I snap my gaze back up to his. "How have I never seen these before?"

"You've never undressed me before."

"But back at the hotel—"

"I threw everything into the duffel while you took your sweet ass time opening the door. I... I didn't want to freak you out."

I bark out a strained laugh. So much for that plan!

While I’m under no illusions about what Drake does for a living, it’s still unnerving to know that he's been walking around fully armed this whole time...

"Look," he says softly, pulling me back into him. "I know this is all very left-field, but I'm not letting you go back to court — especially publicly as Chris' mistress — without making sure that all the bases are covered when it comes to your safety."

"O-okay..." I breathe shakily. While the thought of carrying a deadly weapon around raised the hairs on the back of my neck, I have to concede that Drake has a point... and it’s undoubtedly better to be safe than sorry.

"Thank you," he murmurs, drawing me in to drop a kiss on my forehead. "And if it makes you feel any better, Livy never leaves her house without at least a dozen knives on her."

"What?" I gasp incredulously. "Where does she stash them all?"

"You don't want to know..." he huffs.

"Is there anyone at court who's not packing...?"

"Not that I know of," he admits. "All the nobles undergo some kind of self-defence training, and pretty much everyone has a hidden knife and/or gun on them. Kidnapping and assassination attempts are a daily hazard when you're an aristo."

I feel myself pale. Oh, my God... What have I gotten myself into...?

"Hey," he murmurs, lifting my chin gently up with a finger. "I promised you that I'm gonna look out for you, and I meant it. Plus, you'll have Allard, Schweitzer and everyone else from the Guard there as well. I'm not saying anything's gonna happen, but if it does, I just want you to be prepared for it."

I nod shakily, not trusting myself to speak.

He searches my face for a moment before leaning in to brush his lips against mine. "I should get going on the burgers."

"Okay..." I squeak, head still reeling from everything that Drake just dropped on me.

"You can set up the camp blanket, if you want."

"S-sure."

Shoving the knife into my sock, I totter shakily over to the pile of gear. Locating the thick wool blanket, I carry it up the bank to the grassy part of the clearing and after shoving a few wayward stones and sticks away with my foot, spread it out. Flopping down onto it, I cast my gaze beseechingly up at the sky, wondering how my life has pivoted so completely that I now have to carry a knife on my person on the off-chance that I need to defend myself against some nameless, faceless foe.

So much for wholesome life-choices, Harper...

But as I glance over at Drake, and he catches my eye to flash me a sexy, reassuring smirk, I realise that despite everything, there is nowhere else on earth that I'd rather be than right here, right now, with him... Even if it means having to face a Kill Bill-style showdown tomorrow.

And that’s a reassuring feeling.

Closing my eyes, I let the peaceful sounds of nature and the warmth of the sun on my skin wash over me. Drawing a big breath into my lungs, I savour the different intermingling scents — the fatty smoke of the burgers, the sweetness of the pollen, the earthiness of the dirt next to my head — wishing I could stay out here for a few days... or forever.

But I know that I only have a few short hours left of this peaceful interlude, so I push the anxiety determinedly off to one side and resolve to enjoy this chance to relax with Drake, doing something we both enjoy.

I have no idea how long I lie there unmoving, but my reverie is suddenly interrupted by a ticklish sensation on my arm.

I groan inwardly. I must've set up camp right on top of a nest of ants...

But I was too relaxed to think about moving, so I simply give my arm a shake, hoping the pesky insects would get the message... but to no avail.

With a grimace, I try to brush the ants off, but my hand connects with something large and warm.

Blinking my eyes open, I see Drake hovering over me with a bemused expression on his face.

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead..." he murmurs, fingertips trailing up my arm.

I peek up at him sheepishly. "I fell asleep, didn't I...?"

"Just a bit," he confirms with a lope-sided grin. "You obviously needed the recharge."

My eyes widen in a sudden moment of déjà vu. "I didn't elbow you in the face again, did I?"

Drake chuckles as he leans in to press his lips against mine. "I managed to dodge it this time."

His smoky scent envelopes me as I tangle my fingers into his hair, tugging him closer. "Sorry..."

A low sound rumbles in his throat as he deepens the kiss before pulling reluctantly away. "Definitely later..."

"How 'bout definitely now?" I counter with a suggestive smile, ferreting my other hand beneath his shirt to trail down his abs to his belt.

He lets out a low exhale. "Normally, hard, hard yes. But we should eat before the flies descend on us... and the burgers go cold."

"Fine..." I concede, pushing myself up to a sitting position. "Since you worked so hard on them. But after lunch you're mine, Walker."

He bursts out laughing. "You using my lines on me, Gale?"

"If the glove fits."

Despite — or rather, because of — the slightly macabre conversation earlier, I’m determined to keep whatever time I have left with Drake as lighthearted as possible, so I have something nice to fall back on while we’re apart.

"You're impossible..." he mutters, handing me an already opened bottle of Corona, complete with lime wedge.

"I learnt from the best," I shrug cheekily, giving him a salute with the bottle.

He reaches down for his beer with wry shake of his head. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"'Course you would," I grin. "Happy Fourth of July."

He clinks his own bottle against mine. "Happy Fourth of July, Harper."

"Thanks again for doing this," I tell him, lifting the bottle to my mouth. "I would've completely forgotten about it if you hadn't shown up..."

"Don't mention it," he replies. "I know it's not as extravagant as what you'd probably do back home, but this is how we used to celebrate when Dad was still around. He'd take us camping or just throw together a barbecue on the beach. He liked to keep things simple."

"It's perfect," I assure him, laying a hand on his.

Glancing up, my gaze meets his, my breath catches in my throat as I suddenly find myself falling into those mocha and cinnamon-laced depths.

God, I’m gonna miss him...

"You haven't tried the grub yet..."

A perfectly stacked burger appears in front of my face, oozing relish and melted cheese, complete with a little American flag on the end of a toothpick, and a pile of colourful coleslaw.

"Wow..." I blink, taking the aluminium plate from him. "This looks great!"

"It's the taste test that counts."

I take a deep inhale of the smoky fat and protein. "I don't you think you have anything to worry about on that front either, bud. Just the smell of this baby would make vegans rethink their life choices."

Drake snorts in amusement as he picks up his own burger. "Dad would be happy to hear that. It's his recipe."

"Wait..." I stammer, burger frozen en route to my mouth. "You made these? From scratch?"

He quirks an offended brow. "Who d'you take me for, girl? A philistine who'd settle for supermarket patties? You always make your own."

"I... I just didn't realise you could cook," I admit. "I mean... Food's all taken care of at the Palace..."

"Yeah, but Mom and Dad made sure both me and Savs knew how to fend for ourselves out in the real world."

"Smart parents," I concede. "So, what else can you cook?"

"This a test?"

"Just curious..."

"I can throw together a three-course dinner party, if I need to. And I've been told I can cook up a mean set of Texas ribs."

"Courtesy of you dad, I'm guessing?" I ask with a smile, restarting my burger to my mouth.

"Yup," he confirms, taking another glug of beer. "The old man had three passions in life — whiskey, motorbikes, and barbecue."

"The apple definitely didn't fall far from the tree them," I observe, biting into my stack. The flavours explode over my tongue, making me groan. "Ohmygod... This is amazing!"

Drake scoffs around his own mouthful. "I accept tokens of appreciation in cash, credit or cheque."

"Gawsh, darn it!" I exclaim with wide eyes in an over-exaggerated southern drawl, "I've done gone left mah purse back at da House!"

He nearly chokes on his burger as he tries to cover up a snort of mirth.

"What?" I accuse. "My Texas twang not up to scratch?"

"It definitely was... scratchy..." he coughs out dryly, smacking himself in the chest to dislodge the mouthful that ended up going down the wrong way.

"Some people are just impossible to please..." I huff with a roll of my eyes as I take another big bite.

"Hey. If you want to please me, there are other ways of doing it that don't involve pulling a poor cat's tail..."

"It wasn't that bad..." I protest as I pinch some coleslaw up with my fingers.

"It really was..." he scoffs cringely. Shooting a glance at me, he adds, "I've got forks y'know..."

"Thanks," I reply, tilting my head back to drop the 'slaw into my mouth. "But I'm good with the utensils nature gave me." I wiggle my sticky fingers at him.

Drake shakes his head, but I can see a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You really are something, girl..."

"Why?" I ask, chomping down on the last of my burger. "Because I'm not afraid to get some grease on my hands? You saw me get messy at the beach party barbecue..."

He fixes me with that impenetrable look of his. "Why d'you think I wanted to get in the cold water afterwards...?"

My mouth — half-chewed burger and all — drops into an O of surprise. "Watching me eat... turned you on?"

"It was hot as hell."

I swallow my food down self-consciously. "Erm... Why?"

"Because you’re the only girl I've ever met who is more concerned about enjoying the food than looking good eating it. Plus," he adds in a low voice, grabbing my wrist, "all I could think about was licking all that wayward barbecue sauce off you." He lifts my hand up to suck two of my fingers into his mouth.

A low moan escapes me. "Do... do all your fantasies involve licking sticky stuff off me?"

"No," he murmurs, pressing his teeth into the pads of my fingers while flicking his tongue over my fingertips. "Sometimes I fantasise about fucking you in the middle of a field."

I slant him a breathless look. "Then what are you waitin' for, cowboy?"

"Don't hold it so close to the fire," cautions Drake sometime later. "You'll burn it."

"I've made s'mores before, Walker," I inform him, swinging the stick out of his reach... and sending the marshmallow sailing through the air to land with a splash in the creek.

"Evidently not..." he mutters, reaching over to extract a replacement from the bag.

"Says the guy who just made charcoal?" I ask sweetly, leaning back into him.

Drake cusses under his breath as he yanks his own stick out of the fire. "You're going to be the death of me, girl..." he grumbles, tossing the blackened marshmallow into the flames.

"How is that my fault?" I counter incredulously. "You were the one too busy interfering with my flawless technique to notice that yours was done..."

He hands me a replacement marshmallow with a scoff. "It wasn’t flawless. You'd've burnt the underside before it was cooked through."

I turn to look at him with a raised a brow as I slot the marshmallow into place. "What are you...? Some kind of marshmallow roasting expert?"

"Bet your fine ass, I am, girl,” he confirms nonchalantly, loading up his own stick as well. "I've made thousands of these suckers. So, don't give me that BS about flawless technique. It was a disaster waiting to happen."

"You didn't complain about my technique before..." I remind him saucily, drawing my hand up his leg.

"Neither did you," he counters, leaning in to nip my earlobe as he extends his stick back over the fire. "And who screamed louder...?"

I smack him on his bare knee. "That has nothing to do with roasting marshmallows!"

"Oh, but it does," he drawls, trailing his free hand up the inside of my thigh. "The two techniques are more similar than you'd think..."

"In what world—?"

But my protest stops abruptly as his fingers reach the hem of my shirt to feather up my stomach.

"In both cases," he breathes, running his tongue up my neck as his hand coasts higher, "you need to pay careful attention to the angle... the timing... when to turn up the heat... when to pull back a bit..."

My scoff turns into a breathless moan as his fingers reach my nipple.

He slides his other hand between my legs. "There's a certain... precision to both that only comes with years of hard-earned mastery."

"So, what...?" I gasp as the fingers of his lower hand mimic the actions of the one at my breast. "They're both... important life-skills?"

"Sure are," he breathes against my neck, sliding his fingers inside me.

"Then..." God, it’s impossible to think when he does that! "...then why's yours... burning again?"

"...motherfucker!" He kicks the stick out of the fire in frustration. Dropping his head onto my shoulder, he groans, "You're too damn distracting, girl..."

"I thought you could multitask, Walker."

"Apparently not when you're sitting in my lap wearing nothing but my shirt."

"Should I move to the other side of the fire pit, then?"

"Don't you dare," he warns, tightening his hold on me as his fingers resume their work with renewed determination. "We're finishing this."

I arch back against him with a whimper as he picks up the pace. "Drake...!"

Even though we spent the last hour and a half making up for the week that we've been apart, it’s evident that it hasn’t been enough for either of us.

"Turn around," he commands, pulling his hands abruptly away.

"Wha—?" I ask dazedly.

"I want to watch you fall apart."

I spin myself haphazardly around, the connection between my brain and my body a twisted mess in the wake of his ministrations. Grabbing me by the waist, he pulls me back onto him, his mouth claiming mine in a rough kiss.

"Now tell me how you want it," he growls, pulling at my bottom lip with his teeth.

I grind purposefully against him. "I want you."

I hear the breath catch in his throat as he reaches down between us to free himself from his boxers. "That's what you said the last two times..."

"You complainin'?" I gasp, wrapping my legs around him in anticipation.

"Never," he declares, finding my entrance and sliding himself in.

I throw my head back with a moan as we begin to move against each other again — much more slowly this time. Because in contrast to earlier, when the pace had been rough and frenzied, both of us instinctively want to draw this out for as long as possible, as we both know that it’s probably going to be the last time that we'll be doing this for a while.

So, we take our time to memorise the look, feel and taste of each other. Drake strips his shirt off me inch by inch, feathering kisses along each new bit of exposed skin while I run my hands all over his broad shoulders, his smooth back and the panes of his chest and abs, before coming back up to tangle into his silky hair.

But even though I try to to hold out, slowing my movements down even more, the intensity that has been building in miniscule increments suddenly overflows without warning, and I cry out as the wave of pleasure envelopes me. I feel Drake tighten his hold on me as he stiffens with a low groan, before falling backwards onto the camp blanket, taking me with him.

"Christ, Harper..." he rasps. "Why does every time with you feel like the first time and the last time...?"

I feel the tears that I've been trying to hold at bay the whole day escape to run down my face. "Because we're never together for long enough..."

He heaves a resentful sigh as he pulls me closer. "Not sure any length of time would be ever feel long enough..."

The flow of tears become a torrent. Oh, my God, why did he have to say something so incredibly perfect just as he’s about to leave again...?

"Hey... Are you... crying?"

"No...?" My sniffled denial sounds unconvincing even to my ears.

"Harper. Look at me."

I bury my face into his neck.

I've bawled my eyes out in front of Drake more times than I wish to remember, and the last thing I want is for him to see me do it again... Especially now, on our last day together, after we just had the most beautiful, heartfelt sex known to man.

"Harper. Please."

I raise my head reluctantly, knowing I look like a hot mess.

He lifts his hand to brush my hair out of my face. "Look. I get it. 100%. This entire situation sucks, on about a dozen different levels. And if it were up to me, we'd be on a beach together in Bora Bora or something right now, instead of gearing up to say good-bye for the third fucking time in the space of a week."

Despite my best efforts, I feel fresh tears well in my eyes to drop onto his chest.

"But..." he continues pointedly, wiping the wetness from my face with his thumb, "I should have more time in the evenings while I'm gone. So, if you need to vent at the end of a shit day, or if you just want to say goodnight before going to bed, then call me, and we'll make it happen."

"Really?"

"Really, really."

I can't help but giggle at his Shrek impersonation. "That would be nice..."

And it would definitely help make the time apart feel more bearable...!

"Also, if you're okay with it, I was planning on leaving the horses with you. They could both do with some more regular exercise."

"Aren't there grooms at the Palace who could ride them?"

"Yeah, but Hektor's taken a shine to you and you're the only other person here who can tack up Lone Star and not end up in the dirt two minutes into a ride. Plus, it'll give you a chance to blow off some steam after a long day of princess lessons. All I ask is you take someone with you when you go out."

"Okay," I concede, wiping my face. "But do the Beaumonts even have a stable or a field where we can keep the horses? And what about food and everything else?"

"Before they went broke, the Beaumonts were serious eventers. They had quite the impressive warmblood collection, not to mention a state-of-the-art stable block to house them in. The horses all got sold, but the stable's still there — Max can give you a tour. And in terms of food and bedding, I'll just ask the Head Groom at the Royal Stables to organise a shipment before I leave."

"Are you sure it's not too much trouble?"

"I wouldn't be offering if it was."

Cradling his face in my hands, I bend down to lock my lips onto his. "Thank you..."

"Don't mention it," he murmurs, mocha eyes searching mine. "Now, let's make some s'mores before the fire goes out."

The story continues in Chapter 8 - Into the Lion’s Den

*Whoo! Another super long chapter! Thank you for sticking with it! I think it was worth it! 😇 And yes... I am deliberately turning this into a sexy spy / thriller story. I mean... all the elements are there, so why not? 😎

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[xeo-kunsatan]

Believe in Daddy (Sonic's Universe Fanfiction) Pilot

PG -15

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Prologue.

[Willy]

Should I Trust Daddy?

The answer is clear…, Daddy was always caring of me, he is always there for me, but since Mommy's death hes been acting strange. When he is with me he is very affectionate, but when I see him alone since certain distant he seems completely off… Maybe its because he misses Mommy a lot, but I'm always there to comfort him, he needs my caring, he needs me as I need him, but that doesn't mean I don't feel strange for this, even when Mommy died when I was just 4 years ago, I felt like something is missing honestly...

What a lack of education of mine, I forgot to introduce myself as it most be.. My name is Willy Liddell, I'm just 9 years old kiddo who studies in 4th Grade a normal primary/Middle school, just an chill one..

10:02 AM

It was lunch time, as I usually I went to one of my favorite spots In the school yard.

Oh Lookie! there was Tails too, he's visiting the school once more, even when he's a close mate of the most famous hero Sonic The hedgehog, Tails is continuing his studies in this School, school is just a Hobbie for him but still for it and all his adventures He got all the respect of the school, even The most Feared Bully Vlance from 6th Grade respects him.

Willy: Hey Tails!.

Tails: Oh! Hi Willy!

Willy: Long time no see!

Tails: Heheheh, There was just 2 weeks I've been absent.

Willy: I know hahaha, it's nice to see you here again, School feels odd without you.

Tails: And I feel nostalgic when I'm not here , but it's nice to see you too.

Willy: Yep, still get ready for the Surprise Exam the Teacher is preparing.

Tails: Oh Dear~ another one?

Willy: Hey don't be afraid, this stuff are too easy for ya..

Tails: It's more easier for you to say that, yeah it's easy for me, but hey you can handle it even with close eyes.

Willy: you want to prove me, huh?

Tails: It would be a honor to compete in which would finish the exam first.

Willy: If the Better Genius wins!.

We both had a nice time, maybe we don't see each other too often but I still consider him as a good friend of mine, even we love to compete with each other, Maybe I am the most intelligent In my class but Tails is such a Genius of the robotic, if it was for him be can easily enter to any of the most prestigious universities of the city at his young age, but he prefered the chiller way and assist in a normal lower level school, no matter how much prodigious he is, he prefers to enjoy any of his childhood moments.. Isn't something admirable? That's why I consider him a good example.. I don't have an actually aspiration yet, but thanks to the inspiration Tails gives me Im sure will found it one day.

2:00 PM

The School day ended, and I was taking my usual way in the scooter next to one of my classmates Sahir Ahmed from 4th grade too and the Newspaper kid, we aren't too Close but we have a good acquittance.

Sahir: Jeez~... This Exam was too hard..

Willy: It was actually easy..

Sahir: You said it because you finished it first than us, next to our most brilliant classmate Tails, you 2 are the genius of the class not for nothing dud.

Willy: It's true but I can understand ya, the teacher put us questions we haven't seen in other classes before, but I was ready.

Sahir: I should ask you for some tips one day, I almost died there!.

Willy: You know..what if one of those days we could reunite in one of our houses to study together?

Sahir: That's a good idea, you have no idea how much you would be saving my furr.

Willy: It's nothing, you can count with me.

We took separated ways after that, me to my home and he to deliver the newspaper of today.

3:12 PM

At coming home my Daddy received me with a hug, I hugged him back to then go quickly to my room to read my favorite books, it's just So nice to transport in Magical places when you're reading, it's like you're watching butterflies flying around your Room- Wait wut!?.

I was watching blue butterflies flying in my room, I cannot believe that.. I tried to touch one but it disappeared in my hand, it was so magical.

Did my Dad brought me a new projector lamp or something?.. I closed my book and they disappeared, when I went to read again they just came back... It's so strange... when I opened my hand another butterfly appeared from it, did I made that?

I tried to made another one and it succeed .. I cannot believed what I saw and what I made, Oh my goodness! I finally woke my powers! I'd never imagined they would appear too soon. I Quickly ran to my Dad to tell him about the News.

Willy: Daddy Daddy!! Lookie! I finally woke my powers

Jason: Huh?.. really?...

Willy: Eyup! just watch this!

I tried to made another butterfly since my hand but seems I failed because my Daddy didn't seem to be able to see it.

Jason: Ohh.. you're such a jokester aren't you?

Willy: I don't get it... it worked the first time.. what if I.

I tried again but by holding my Daddy's hand and look at him directly at his eyes, he reacted very exalted by it but he finally saw them, all that beautiful butterflies flying around the the kitchen, Daddy got off my hand from his and he was still looking at them, his eyes were shinning while his cheeks turned into a salmon tone

Jason; O-Ohh... I mean- Hey! You made it little butterfly!

Willy: I don't know how but I finally made it!

Jason: In that case, it was a good idea from me that I made your favorite dessert to celebrate this.

Willy: Pumpkin pie!?

Jason: That's right! Pumpkin pie!

Willy: Yay!

Jason: You got her beautiful power~..

He Whispered, he doesn't have to much time with that Strange Behavior but honestly don't get it and I didn't gave it importance, maybe he was impressed but still I wonder in what he's on...

7:00 PM

[Narrator]

Far Away in the kitchen there was Jason making some dough for donuts while he was reading a book in a lower voice tone.

Jason: To start the resurrection ritual you would need specifically .. corpses of 5 different blood types.. to start to the first body.. the soul of this one most be a gentle but employeed, no matter how much pressure are in the studies or usual tasks, this most be a soul with a judge entrepreneur spirit... Entrepreneur spirit huh?.. which person most be like this?..

Jason heard some kid laughs since the outside, he got close to the window to take a look. there was Sahir talking to her grandmother..

Sahir: Thank you so much for the new cape Granny Shamir! it's so soft and warm!.

Granny S: You know so well how much I'm worried you can get a cold in one of these days, the autumn is getting close after all.

Sahir: I love it, now I will be warm in my delivery rides!

Granny S: Such an entrepreneur spirit, aww you are all your father dear..

Sahir: I hope Dad finally returns home...

Granny S: Me too, but hey maybe he works a lot but he'll maybe come home in this seasons.

Sahir: That's true! C'mon let's go home, I can't wait for dinner.

Jason's eyes sparkled.. it was too clear from who will start with.

Jason: Ohhh Willow~, I will finally see you again..

He saw His death wife's photo to kiss it..

Jason: Just Wait~...

To be Continued....

[malibix]

Fizzy Cider || One-Shot | Hisirdoux Casperan x plantonic!Reader

Summary: It’s probably not the best idea to leave your fellow wizard roommate alone to their potions. You never know what they could be doing to your apartment - nevermind whatever they’re brewing.

Word Count: 1167

Warnings: None!

Taglist: @furblrwurblr​ @moppetwithamanbun​ @tales-of-hisirdoux​ @yagirlcheesely​ @alovesongshewrote​​

Douxie could hear the clinking of glass all the way from the downstairs level of the bookstore. 

"What on earth are they doing up there-"

He peered slightly up at the balcony level and to where the bookstore led to his apartment, as if he'd be able to see what was going on up there from where he stood. A customer found their way into GDT Arcane Books, but just as Douxie turned to ask how he could be of service, there was a shattering of glass from upstairs followed by an "Oh. Well that's not good-" From his roommate. 

He glanced upwards worriedly, only to see a fog rolling out from under the apartment door. "Uhm, if you'll excuse me for.. just a minute." He told the customer, before racing up the stairs. The customer must have also taken note of the concern on the wizard's face and the cloud slowly spreading across the floor and over the balcony. She took one look at the whole thing as Douxie disappeared up the stairs and slowly backed out of the bookstore. 

Douxie knocked on the door to the apartment lightly, calling into the foggy mist, "Hey (Y/n)- you alright up here, love?"

Their voice responded to him from somewhere within the apartment, "Oh yeah! It's good! I'm good. It's good. Don't worry, it's not toxic. It's mostly dry ice. Mostly."

There was a shuffling, followed by a, "Come in, come in!"

The wizard was only mildly afraid of what he'd open the door to, but nonetheless, he wouldn't believe that they hadn't blown themself up without seeing for himself. He conjured up an orb of light to give him a better field of vision through the mist as he tried to find his roommate. 

"In the kitchen!" They called as they saw his blue magic light up the room from the door. 

"What did we say about potions during working hours-" Archie had made his way up from the bookstore as well to see what all the fuss was about. 

"You saiiiiid... not to do it?" He could hear them laughing softly from wherever they were. 

"I only say that because of how they, how do I say, turn out sometimes. Not that I don't love whatever you conjure up- what exactly is it that you're conjuring up?"

"Oh well you see," their voice was suddenly much closer than it had been moments ago, an arm emerged from the mist to grab a hold of Douxie's sweater to lead him to their workspace.

"I was going to try making some of those.. what are they? The never ending flavor things from Willy wonka? Yeah those. But, BUT, then I wanted to carbonate some apple cider and thought it would be cool to put some dry ice cubes in,"

"For some, ya'know, extra flare!"

They gestured some vague jazz hands at the last word, but it was hard to make out from all the fog, though it had begun to clear. 

"Ahuh... yes I see that. But darling, exactly how much dry ice did you use...?"

"Okay so fun story."

"Okay, listening, waiting for the fun part to kick in."

They elbowed him gently and the two of them let out a chuckle. 

"I know dry ice never does," they gestured around at the clouded apartment, vaguely hoping no cops outside saw this and thought you were running some illegal operation in here, "this. But, I'll get to that, hold on."

"I started with two little cubes and it made the cider bubble and ya'know, fog over like a little potion - it was really cool - but then I thought, HEY, if this is what dry ice does by itself, then what would magic do to it???"

"I'm guessing it does this."

"Bingo!"

Douxie tried to cover up his amused laugh with a sigh of disappointment, only to fail miserably.

"Isn't it  c o o l???"

"Yes (Y/n), it's very cool. I'm glad you're having a fun ti- why are you putting your potion ingredients in the fridge-"

The apartment had begun to clear up just enough for him to make out their figure carrying all their little glass bottles over to the fridge. 

"To be faiiiiir, these aren't my potion ingredients. It's just the fizzy cider in little bottles!"

"Now those, over there," They pointed to the area next to the toaster, "are my potion ingredients."

(Y/n) sounded so pleased with themself and Douxie couldn't help but smile, despite his apartment being filled with a cloud of dry ice. It was clearing up, for sure, but that wasn't the point.  

"Which also to be fair, are going in the fridge once I find space for these ones." They jingled the little bottles in their hand to emphasize them going into the fridge. 

"(Y/n) what did I say about needing to put your potion ingredients in the fridge?"

"That it's better to pickle the tadpole tails so they'll last longer outside of refrigeration in the event that our fridge breaks down?"

"I- no. The other thing."

"C'mon Doux! They're on my side of the fridge! And they're small too, not taking up too much space."

"No (Y/n)- your spices don't need to be refrigerated-"

"Ohhhh yes yes, that part. But listen, they're not your average mortal spices! They're magically enchanted spices!" They made ghost noises as if to somehow get the point across. "So, they need to be kept cooooold." They paused for a moment, blinking at him while he peered back in amusement. "Anyways, want some of the fizzy cider????"

Douxie sighed in defeat, rubbing his temples from the whole ordeal.

It wasn't dealing with them that was the problem, the problem was that it wasn't even noon yet.

And this was the second time this week.

It was tuesday.

He didn't actually even have that much of a problem with the potion ingredients in the fridge. It just bothered him to open it only to be greeted with dozens of little jars filled with spices and dried herbs that didn't need to be in there. 

They just didn't need to be refrigerated.

It bothered him that they weren't supposed to be in there, and yet, there they were, plain as day. He sighed again before taking you up on your offer of fizzy cider.

"Sure, might as well try the cause of all this."

Luckily enough by now the fog had cleared enough for him to be able to see again without thinking something was vaguely wrong with his eyes. 

(Y/n) chuckled while pouring him a glass and putting a very small little cube of dry ice in it before passing it over. Then they poured themself a glass, not having tried it yet since they couldn't find where the cups were in all that mess.

"Cheers!"

Douxie laughed softly as he clinked his glass with (Y/n)’s, glad to see that they were at least enjoying this whole ordeal.