#“i cannot confirm nor deny if these questions will be on the test” | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

somekindofpoet · 1 year

Text

Oh! Dealer

Summary: Vada calls Reader for a ride after she does E, they get high together and experience some new highs

Word Count: 4.4K

Warnings: +18 NSFW, smut, language, drug use

A/N: I cannot confirm nor deny my personal experience in a situation like this...just enjoy this very detailed ecstasy fueled touchy touchy. Also, is the back story in the beginning necessary? No, but I have to world build, I cant help it.

Your phone buzzes on the coffee table, drawing the attention of everyone in the silent room. You wince, hit the decline button, and clear your throat. The man sitting across from you glares at you. You gulp, really not wanting to piss him off. The phone vibrates again, and he clenches his jaw, the dagger tattoo on his temple flexing as his skin moves. You hit the decline button again.

“Who the fuck is calling you, kid?” He growls, his eyes burning into your head, his anger palpable.

Every muscle in your body is tight, anxious tension rolling through you. You glance down at the phone and look back at him.

“It’s no one. Just a girl.”

The man sitting on the couch next to you laughs, slapping your shoulder, “I bet you’re a fucking lady killer, aren’t you? Lookin like that,” he looks to the man across from you, “You think so, Whisper?”

You clench your teeth, your expression unsure. You shrug. Whisper curls his lip, his tongue running across his teeth.

“Well, are you?” He asks, cocking his head.

You frown, “Am I what?”

“A fuckin lady killer. Noodle asked you a question, didn’t he? Answer him.”

You glance at Noodle. He’s leaning toward you with childlike glee on his face. He raises his eyebrows and nods at you, his lank, oily hair swishing back and forth. You look back at Whisper across from you, unsure how to answer. Every time you came here was something different. The only consistent thing about these two was their supply of drugs and their ability to make you fear for your life.

You gulp, “I do alright.”

The room falls quiet again. The clock in the kitchen may as well be Big Ben, with how loud its ticking has become. Whisper barks out a hard laugh, breaking the tension and leaning forward to dump a duffel bag on the coffee table. A mountain of small bags filled with pills spews out, sliding over each other.

“What’s your body count?” He asks, his laughter stopping and his face growing serious again.

You try to keep your composure, but you can feel your brows knit together and your lips tighten. You don’t have a choice, you have to give him an answer. The truth or making something up, the number matters. You don’t want to sound like you’re lying, but you don’t want to sound cocky either. Your phone starts to ring again. Whisper looks down at it and smirks.

In an effort to distract him, you say, “S-six.”

Noodle cackles next to you and stomps his feet on the floor, slapping his knees, “See Whisper, I told you! She’s a lady killer!”

Whisper snorts, nodding, “Respect. Six at what? Nineteen? Okay, little buddy. How much you taking today?”

You sigh in relief, the muscles in your jaw relaxing. You don’t bother telling him you’re twenty, and your actual body count is four. The moment has passed, you’ve passed their test. You pull a roll of cash out and hand it over to Whisper, a nervous smile quirking your lips.

“Same as last time. I’ll move it in a week or two.”

Whisper nods, “Good man. Don’t spend too much time crushin' girls, little buddy. You need to make Daddy money.”

He reaches across the table and slaps your cheek lightly. His hand smells like machine oil and gunpowder. You unzip your backpack and use your arm to sweep the baggies into it, zip it up and stand. You don’t look back as you hustle out the apartment door, letting it slam behind you. You try to keep yourself from running down the stairs, ending up in a half-jog until you’re in your car. You start it and peel out, only looking back once the complex is in your rearview.

By the time you’re pulling into your driveway, your nerves have settled. You park the car and pull your backpack into your lap, digging through the little bags until you find the one you want. Little red pills shake around in the bag. They’re stamped with the silhouette of a pin-up girl, the naked lady stamp usually reserved for eighteen-wheeler tire flaps. You open the bag, take a pill out, bite it in half, and let the back half fall into the bag. You chew the pill, grimacing at the taste. You’re testing the product is the excuse you always give yourself. In reality, you just enjoy E, but it can be dangerous and laced with shit that will kill your consumers. Testing it is a win-win, you get high, and your revenue doesn’t get merc’d by a bad pill.

Your phone vibrates at the bottom of your backpack. You dig around until you find it and pull it out, Vadas name is on the screen. Again.

“What do you want, Vada?”

“Remember that pill you sold me last time? The yellow one that looked like a Simpson? Like a week ago. We talked in the parking lot, and you-“

“Vada.” You interrupt her, knowing she will continue to talk until she runs out of words. You haven’t actually found the bottom of her word pit yet, always having to interrupt her to get her to stop.

“Right. Sorry. But do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Remember the pill, the yellow one!” Her voice goes up an octave as she grows impatient with you.

You sigh heavily, resting your head on the car seat. “Yeah, I remember it. What about it?”

“So I took the blue one that day and saved the yellow one, and you know how the grass feels when-“

“Vadaaaa,” you groan, praying the red naked lady you’d just chewed kicked in soon.

She huffs into the phone, “I took it, and I’m stuck can you give me a ride home?”

You close your eyes, then lean forward to rest your head on the steering wheel. The first day Vada approached you asking for drugs, you laughed at her and said no. She was persistent, tailing you and nagging you until you’d given in and sold her half an E pill. That was three years ago. Now she comes to you occasionally to buy when she’s going to a party or wants adderall (even though you’re pretty sure she could get this prescribed for her). Your relationship had developed against your will, her stubbornly insisting you were friends and you reminding her your only role in her life was to take her money. She refused to believe you.

“Where are you?” You grumble, hoping she’s not too far so you can get to her before your drug kicks in.

Briefly, you consider that maybe you are friends. You don’t know any other drug dealers that are willing to give rides to their customers. So maybe you’d developed a small soft spot for Vada, even if you won’t admit it.

“I’m at the park on D street. You know, the one with the-“

“I’ll be there in five.” You interrupt her, hanging up.

——

You’re surprised to find her alone at the park. She’s lying on her back in the grass, moving her arms like she’s making snow angels. The streetlights flicker on, and you’re coming up, getting anxious about driving and someone seeing Vada writhing in the grass. You honk your horn, and she sits up, looking around.

You roll your window down and lean out of it, “Let’s go, Vada!”

A huge grin slides across her face, her eyes low-lidded and dopey. She pulls herself to her feet and lurches across the grass to the parking lot, throwing the car door open and dropping into the passenger seat. She shuts the door and turns toward you, smiling, rubbing her cheek on the headrest. Her eyes are nearly black, the drug making her pupils expand unnaturally. She reaches out and runs her fingertips across your forearm, and you bite your tongue. Your pill was kicking in, the touch felt more like silk on your skin than fingers. Vada’s house was too far to drive, you wouldn’t make it before you started to peak. Your house was only five minutes away, so that’s where you take her. She hums to herself, rubbing her hands up and down her thighs and sticking her head out of the window.

Your body is thrumming when you park, the nerves in your skin fooled into finding everything pleasurable by the sudden burst of serotonin in your brain. Vada sits up, a small pout on her lips.

“This isn’t my house,” she drawls.

You rub your eyes, and it’s difficult to stop because it feels so good. You nearly forget why you’re rubbing your eyes until you stop and see Vada staring at you.

“It’s my house. We need to go inside now.”

She nods, accepting the information immediately. You both climb out of the car, but it feels more like a slither. You unlock your front door and shut it behind Vada, leaning your back on it to ground yourself. She makes her way through your entryway, headed for the couch, but you call to stop her. Your grandma is in the living room; it’s her soap hour.

“No, no not that way. Come with me.” You hold your hand out for her to take, and she does, an intoxicated smile on her face.

You lead her to your bedroom, not really thinking it through. You just know you don’t want your grandma to see Vada like this, so it seems to be the safest place to hide her for the next few hours. Her hand in yours feels like the brush of rose petals in your palm, so you hold it gently, hyper-aware of it. She lets go of you and falls into your bed without asking, kicking her shoes off and low crawling up to the pillows. You raise an eyebrow as you watch her roll herself into your down comforter, breathing deeply in the blankets. You’re lucky you’d only taken half a pill, or your self-control would be nonexistent. Just like Vadas now.

If she’s unfiltered when she’s sober, high Vada is a faucet stream of consciousness. Every single word that enters her mind leaves her lips, no second thought, no thought at all, really.

“You know you smell really good,” she says, her voice muffled by the blanket on her face, “like, so good I want to live in you. Can I do that? Or can I just live in your bed? Why do you smell so good?”

You sigh and drag your desk chair over to the foot of the bed, watching her. She’s going to regret what she’s saying when she comes down tomorrow. Even with only half a pill in your system, it’s taking every ounce of self-control for you not to crawl into the bed and roll around with her. At that moment, you decide her voice is better than music, and you hope she never shuts up. The tone and pitch of whatever onslaught coming out of her lips are better than the Chopin records sitting on your shelf. Your thumb and forefinger have the hem of your shirt pinched between them, rubbing the cotton together and feeling every ridge catching and sliding over themselves.

Vada sits up, the blanket wrapped around her head, “Y/n. Your bed is the best place I’ve ever been in my whole entire life. Do you think I died and this is heaven? What are your sheets made out of? I think it’s probably a blend of silk, cotton, and clouds.” She giggles at herself, “Wait, no, you can’t put clouds in houses. Then the house would float away.”

You chuckle, your inhibitions falling away as you feel the ecstasy taking hold of you. Your laughter makes Vada freeze. She drops the blanket and crawls over to the foot of the bed, staring at you in awe. She reaches over and runs her pointer finger down your nose, tickling you. You think if you were made of anything, it’s ashes, and she’s just brushed away the skin on your face with the softest touch you’d ever felt. The sudden compulsion to know what her shirt is made of has you pushing out of the chair and crawling on the bed. She cocks her head as she watches you take the bottom of her shirt between your fingers, rolling the fabric the same way you had done your own.

You look up at her, and to this day, you’d swear there was an ethereal glow behind her. In reality, it’s probably just your desk lamp, but in the drug haze, you’re positive she’s divine.

You lick your lips and run your knuckles over her cheek, “Have you always been so pretty?”

She sucks in a breath, then nods enthusiastically, “I was born with this face! Have you always been so pretty?”

She makes you laugh, and you lean away from her. The tiniest part of your brain is screaming not to make a mistake. You may not have realized how you felt about her before, but you certainly do now. Maybe that soft spot was bigger than you thought. The distance doesn’t do much because as you back away, Vada is leaning forward. She wraps her arms around you in a hug, and you fall backward, landing with her head on your chest. Your entire body lights up, her weight on you setting a fire in your gut, making your breathing quicken and your heart race.

“Woaaaah, you’re so soft,” Vada rubs her cheek over your shirt.

Against your better judgment, you let her continue, wrapping your arms around her and reveling in the comfort of cuddling her. She wriggles her hand out from under you and runs it up your arm. The sensation gives you goosebumps, your skin prickling in a trail following her fingers. She plants her hand on your chest to sit up, straddling your hips. If you were both sober, it would have been enough to make you blush because you’re not wearing a bra, and her fingertip grazed over your nipple, making her eyes widen. She looks down at your breast and runs her finger across it again. You almost forget to stop her it feels so good, but you’re finally able to shake your head and straighten a few things out in your mind.

She moves to touch you again, and you cover yourself with your hand, frowning up at her, “Don’t do that.”

You don’t mean it. You want her to keep doing it more than anything, but you’ve really got to fight to preserve some self-control. Her brow knits together in confusion, and her bottom lip juts out.

“Your nipples are pierced.” She states as if it’s news to you.

You snort and shake your head, removing your hand from your chest, “Only one.”

That tickles her, she laughs, and you can feel it in your belly. “Why do you only have one nipple pierced?” Her eyes are bright and curious as she looks down at you.

You twist your mouth, the slightest bit of embarrassment creeping up your cheeks in a blush, “They were both done. I lost one of the bars when I was cleaning them, forgot about it, and it healed up. So now there’s only one.”

“I want to see it.” She says as if she’s not asking you to get half-naked in front of her.

“Too bad,” you snort, frowning up at her.

She looks down at you, her eyes flitting across your face while she processes some bit of information in her mind. Your hands move against your will to rest on her thighs. You might be denying her, but that doesn’t make her touch feel any less incredible. She looks down at your hands and licks her lips.

“I think I’m peaking,” she says, looking back into your eyes.

You smirk, “Me too.”

“Wait, you too?”

“Yeah, before you called, I was testing the new product. Picked you up before it hit. We’re rolling now.”

She nods, thinking hard again. Then, without explanation or reason, she pulls her shirt over her head and tosses it aside. You’re too shocked to do anything but let your mouth drop open.

“What are you doing?”

She shrugs, “Taking my clothes off.”

“Why?”

“Do you not want me to?” She tilts her head, her hands lingering around the waistband of her shorts.

“I…no. I mean, yes. I mean…I don’t not want you to?”

She scratches her head, then gets distracted and runs her hands over your ribs. “I think we should have sex.”

You choke on your spit, sitting up on your elbows, “What?”

“I think you’re pretty. You think I’m pretty. Everything feels so good right now. I'm basically having sex with you right now. Can it get better? Like how is it on E? I’ve never done it. I’ve never done it on E. I’ve wanted to do it with you for a while. Sometimes I even-“

You hold your hands out to stop her, “Hang on hang on. How do I know you’re not going to freak out once you’re sober?”

She scoffs, her hands pushing your shirt up to your ribs, “Freak out? It’s just sex, y/n. Plus, like I said, sometimes I’ve thought about you-“

“Wait, wait, I can’t think when you’re doing that,” you stop her wandering hands and try to pull them away from your stomach, but there’s nowhere else to put them.

Her weight on your hips is fogging your brain. Her exposed skin looks like velvet. You want her to lay on top of you so you can feel all of it. She smells good, too, like freshly cut grass and cherry chapstick. She starts pushing your shirt up again, and in your musing, you forget to stop her. You help her pull it over your head and fall back when she throws it aside. Her eyes go straight to your boobs. She sits on you, unmoving for a minute, just appreciating you. Her eyes linger on your right side, the side with the metal bar through your nipple. She licks her lips again. Her hand slides up your ribs, and she stops just under your breast, looking back at you. You shrug and nod, figuring why the hell not. Her blown out pupils go back to the silver jewelry as her hand slides over it, the bar slipping between her fingers.

You bite your knuckles, trying not to moan. Before you understand what’s happening, Vada's mouth is latched on to you, her warm tongue flicking at the silver, and this time you do moan. Her other hand rolls your jewelry free nipple between her fingers, and you’re pretty sure you’re going to cum from that alone. Nope. You know you are. Your fingers slide into her hair, and your hips jerk, and you feel like you’re falling through the bed. Floating on the clouds Vada believed couldn’t be brought inside. You’re not even going to address the fact that she’d done this without even taking your pants off. It would go straight to her head. You’d never hear the end of it.

You desperately need to gain control of this situation, or Vada is going to have you a squirming mess. And you’re not even a bottom. Usually. You lift your hips and flip her on her back, her mouth separating from your nipple, leaving it freezing cold as the air hits it. Her breath comes out in a rush and a giggle under you, her eyes unfocused and hands wandering.

“I love boobs,” she says under her breath, then louder, “Yours are incredible. Probably top ten boobs I’ve ever seen. Definitely the number one boobs I’ve touched. This feels like sex, but my pants are on. Can you take my pants off please I want to have sex with you. Are we having sex?”

You blow your hair out of your eyes, resigned to your fate with her. You like her more than you want to admit. And you do really want to have sex with her. But you need to set ground rules first.

“Okay, we can have sex, but-“

“Yessss!” Vada fist pumps, punching the headboard in her excitement. She hisses and pulls her fist down to her chest.

“But! You have to make a promise to me first.” You look down at her, trying not to laugh when her face grows very serious.

She nods, waiting for you to continue.

“1. Promise me a real date when we’re sober.”

She smiles and nods quickly, reaching up for you, but you shake your head and grab her hands, pinning them to her sides.

“And 2. Tell me you want this. Full consent. We’re not having sex until you say it. I’ll say it first. Vada, I consent to have sex with you right now.”

“A date and consent? No problem. Y/n I promise I consent to do a date with you and to take you out on a sex right now…” she frowns, mulling over her words, “that’s not right. I consent to have sex with you immediately. I’ll take you on a date tomorrow.”

“Good enough.” You hook your fingers under her bra and pull it off her head, eager to have your skin on hers.

You drop down, your chest pushing into hers, and she groans, “Oh fuck, I think you’re made of like marshmallows or cashmere or something oh my god, you’re so soft.”

She leans up and kisses you for the first time, and now you’re absolutely sure how you feel about her. The drugs just knocked your walls down, now Vada was under your skin. She kisses you with fervor, her hands all over you. She unbuttons your jeans and pushes them down your hips without breaking your lips apart. You do the rest of the work, kicking them off behind you. You pull her shorts and underwear off in a hurry, your leg slotting between her legs like you were made to fit together. You lean into her, applying pressure to her center, and she gasps, bending her knee to do the same to you. You don't think you’re going to make it through an actual sexual encounter. Not while you’re as high as you are. Every single touch feels like an orgasm, every whisper of breath, every inch of your body is in pure…well…ecstasy.

You settle for grinding into her, mutual sighs of satisfaction escaping between your lips and noses as you kiss her frantically. She pulls you down with her hands on your back, pushing you so your stomach is pressed into hers. You dip your head to kiss her neck and almost regret it because she starts talking again.

“Oh my god, y/n I think my skin is orgasming. Can your brain have an orgasm? Mine is. Your skin- oh shit do that again -“ she pulls you up her thigh, her eyes rolling back, “I don’t know what or how you’re doing that but please never stop.”

Her voice is breathy and light, quieter than usual, but still, it feels like music to you. You keep rocking your hips, your thigh pressing into her as you grind yourself down on her leg. The growing sensation in your lower stomach is just a touch less than too much for you, it’s almost too good, but you keep moving. You move to kiss her chest, but she’s pulling you back to her lips, then pushing your face away as she leans up to wrap her lips around your nipple again. Normally, you would have stopped her and put her in her place, but she felt so good you couldn’t even fathom arguing with her.

Her hands are on your sides, and she pushes you over, regaining her position above you. She ducks her head down to kiss you again, her hands on your breasts. She’s probably not going to let go of them again, which suits you fine. You use one hand to grip her waist, pushing her to keep moving, and the other hand holds her jaw, keeping her with you. You’re not sure how much time passes like that, your hands running over each other, lips tracing over skin, teeth marking soft spots. It’s like being in a warm pool of constant pleasure, Vada is your oxygen, and you are hers. You’re not sure if you ever actually cum, or if she does, or if you ever weren’t cumming. It’s all very hazy and melded and fluid.

Eventually, you do have to stop, and you both splay out on your backs, gasping for air. You reach over her, flipping on your ceiling fan, kissing her breastbone, and falling onto your back. The cool air licks across your sweaty skin, making you shiver. Vada rolls to face you, and you’re half afraid she’s going to get on top of you again. She doesn’t, she just rests her hand on your chest and watches you, quiet for the first time in hours. The comedown is barreling toward you, you know it.

You turn your head to look at her, “We’re going to crash soon.”

She yawns, “That’s okay.”

“You staying here tonight?”

She closes her eyes and nods, her thumb brushing over your sternum. She cracks one eye open, “Actually, I do need one thing, though.”

You frown, your eyes growing heavy, “What’s that?”

“I need so much water. I could drink a bathtub full. Or a swimming pool, or-“

“Okay,” you roll out of the bed and pad into the bathroom attached to your room.

When you come out, you have two huge glasses of water and hand her one. You sit on the edge of the bed, gulping yours down. When it’s gone, you set the cup on the nightstand and look over at Vada. Her cup is empty and lying on the pillow next to her. Her dark hair is splayed out on the pillow, her chest rising and falling peacefully as she sleeps. It’ll be the best sleep she has in her life, you know from experience. Tomorrow would suck, the chemicals in your brain at an all-time low, but if Vada is there, you can’t imagine being too low. You drop back onto your pillow, sling your arm over Vada’s stomach, and let the post-ecstasy crash suck you down into dreamless slumber.

#vada cavell x reader #vada cavell #vada x reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x reader

1K notes · View notes

beanofjudgement · 4 months

Text

Given the questions I am recieving in regards to myself and my sibling, I... believe an explanation is in order. From the beginning.

I had suspected Giratina had been behind the static for a small while now. And in recent days, it had escalated enough that I thought it best to either confirm or deny my suspicions. Suffice it to say, I was wrong... to a degree.

She was unwittingly a PART of why the static was as strong as it was. The Unown were the "speakers", as it were, and it seems there is another party in play here. Reading back, there is a gap in some of her answers. Ones she conveyed to you, but I have no access to. But context clues have denited she was not willingly the progenitor of the static. Someone has been manipulating her.

... By using the pain I inflicted upon her. I... did not miss the why. She still despises me all these centuries later, and... I cannot find it in my heart to deny her justification. I had been too strict, outright lacking in my understanding of her pain. And in fixing my mistakes, I had been too lax. My own disposition was the first step. Taking a moment to assess who I should be to people. I admit... this blog was a test of that. I would judge myself by your merits in dealing with me. Hence the name including "judgement". I apologize.

But it was in service of attempting to bridge this gap between myself and Giratina. I was not sinply attempting to use you all. I wanted to see if my train of thought was correct. I wanted to see if genuine kindness and support was the way to truly go. If I should step down from being "above" you all. Not to say I am even now. Nor was I ever. If anything, I was beneath you for not realizing this sooner.

And it cost Giratina her sense of self.

She... changed in those final moments. I watched that scene from the Unown a dozen times. The call for help haunts me. She was afraid. She realized, too late, that her rage was being used against her. And in that moment... something primal emerged from her. A form I had not seen for eons... All four of us have a more primal shape we emerged from nothingness to take. An "original" shape of sorts. And the only thing we can do in that state is follow our instincts.

It took everything I had to seal her domain back up.

I pray I have the strength to face her again soon. She deserves so much better from me.

#pokemon irl #pokemon roleplay #pokemon rp #rotumblr #arceus says hello #rotomblr

5 notes · View notes

casspurrjoybell-31 · 5 months

Text

The Consort's Fate - Chapter 3 - Part 1

*Warning Adult Content*

Finn

A collection of clouds looms overhead, blanketing the sky in a morose canvas of gray.

Moisture builds within them.

They bloat and distend from the pressure, slumping closer to earth with a windy sigh of defeat.

The air is thick with heat and holds its breath in anticipation of the storms to come.

Lightening flickers like a pulse of the sky.

Each beat grows in strength, stretching its fingers closer, closer.

The moment before a thunderstorm holds the promise for change.

There's electricity in the air and it's as if Fate itself is ready for a change.

"Mr. Primary is looking for you, Mr. Secondary."

I still at the familiar voice.

After years of being cooped up in this fortress, I believed I would earn the right to privacy.

However, time doesn't seem to play a factor.

The intruder takes his place beside me, leaving the proper distance between us to respect the differences in our species and subsequent, societal ranking.

"When it's just us," I say quietly.

"Please address me by my informal title."

Then, under my breath, I mutter...

"I'm liable to forget my name otherwise."

"My apologies, Finn," my guard corrects, nodding slightly to emphasize his regrets.

"Habit of formality."

I wave him off.

"Besides, have you ever met a Secondary who cannot ingest food?"

My guard, Douglas, remains quiet.

I turn towards him, leveling my gaze upon his.

"Mr. Primary insists I am a true Secondary and the rightful King to this nation, alongside him. But I see the looks, Douglas. I hear the whispers. The humans and Secondaries doubt me. They believe me to be a full vampire as opposed to their Secondary King. Unfortunately, I don't have the memory to confirm or deny the claim. I remember nothing."

Douglas shifts and lowers his gaze.

He attempts to staunch the discomfort from bleeding into his expression but I smell it through his emotions.

The rumors are still circulating, then.

"Forgive me, Finn," he murmurs.

"I don't know how to answer such a question. What species you are matters not to me. I believe you to be our true King, that is what matters."

"Even if I am fully vampire?"

I test.

Douglas tucks his hands behind his back, clasping the fingers of his right hand around his left wrist.

The blood flow strains around his wrist as he squeezes his fingers tighter around the tender flesh.

His pulse thrums and he peers up at the sky while deliberating his answer.

I shouldn't put him in such a precarious situation.

To denounce me as his true King would be treason.

To show support of a vampire, a species coined to be spawned from hell, is cause for death.

Yet, I know it's the only way to get an honest answer.

"I have served you for the better third of a decade," he begins.

"And in my time here, there has neither been a single human nor Secondary who has come forward claiming to know you before the war. Now, some say it's because everyone who knew you prior to the war was killed. Others believe they are still out there, forever silenced by force or by fear. Perhaps both. Like the rest, I did not know you before the war but I have heard many stories. You are a mystery to the masses and there is no clear way to discern the facts from the fantasies. People don't like mysteries, Finn. They like answers. So, they grasp a hold of the whispers and put you into a clear, defined box to appease their own selfish need for security. People don't know how to handle uncertainty. It's a weakness and a form of ignorance that's as old as time."

"You have an uncanny ability to sidestep my questions, Douglas."

A gentle smirk hovers around his lips.

"What I'm trying to say is, I don't care where fact meets fiction. I don't care who you were before the war. Whether human, Secondary or vampire, I know you. And the being that you are, regardless of the species associated with it, is someone I would be proud to serve as my King. Always."

His words stir something inside me.

It burns like an ember, its warmth trickling through my veins like a living current.

It is an emotion, no doubt but I experience them so infrequently that I cannot ascertain which it is.

This is Mr. Primary's proof I am a Secondary because vampires do not have emotions.

He tells me, 'they're-birthed from the deepest crevices of the hellish inferno. They are heartless creatures, Finn. Pure and undiluted evil.'

"Thank you, Douglas."

I sigh and push away from the foyer railing.

"I've kept you out here long enough. Let's see what Mr. Primary needs."

He breathes out a sigh of relief. It's never pleasant to keep our Mr. Primary waiting.

Douglas follows a step behind me as we make our way across the foyer.

Just as he pulls the door open for me, the first droplet of rain lands on my skin and absorbs into the fine hairs of my forearm.

Goosebumps follow in its wake, the very electricity in the sky delicately humming through me.

My earlier notions are confirmed with a single touch of Nature's fingertips.

A change is near.

1 note · View note

gomdnow · 2 years

Text

Is DOT Drug Testing Required by Law?

DOT Drug Testing

The Department of Transportation does not mandate drug testing, but it does require you to take a pre-employment drug test early in the hiring process. Most states that allow drug testing also require post-accident drug testing; that's why DOT has a mandatory alcohol testing policy.

Yes, a DOT drug test is required by law before hiring a driver. This is an essential step as it confirms that the applicant will not be compromised on the job.

In addition to this, DOT drug testing is also a requirement for driving commercial vehicles. This is a common practice in the transportation industry, and it often determines whether an applicant's license has been suspended or revoked.

Frequently Asked Questions

Q1. Can I Get a Job After a Pre-Employment Drug Test?

The answer to this question is yes and no. A positive drug test does not guarantee that you will be denied employment because of an unsatisfactory test result, but they are often used in an employer's decision-making process to decide whether to hire someone based on their past performance or behavior. Test in the initial interview.

A positive result usually doesn't cause employers to fire candidates before the end of the scheduled testing period, nor does it prevent them from hiring people who pass.

That being said, job seekers are generally more reluctant to risk taking drugs on their own time and at work.

Therefore, employers recommend that they test applicants early to determine whether to hire them before starting work. During this period, their functioning at work is being observed.

Q2. Can an Employee Refuse to Take a Dot Drug Test?

No, employees cannot voluntarily refuse to participate in the DOT drug testing program without consequence. Refusing to take the exam and failing to provide the required confirmation when requested by an authorized safety inspector may result in disciplinary action up to and including dismissal or cancellation of the job offer.

Q3. If A Candidate Is Not Scheduled to Work, Can They Be Required to Take the Test?

Yes, there are several situations where this can happen. Pre-job testing can be done at any time as well as post-incident testing, including scheduling off-duty staff to come to work.

While DOT regulations do not explicitly address employee failure to report to work on time, they require testing to be designed in the most efficient manner possible and to accommodate employee availability at the time of testing.

Conclusion:

Failing a DOT drug test can be devastating. This can result in you being unable to maintain your job for a long time or even cause you to lose your job opportunity. This is why extreme care must be taken in any situation where a DOT drug test is required.

Most people who fail such tests do so for two main reasons: either they were dishonest about their past use, or they didn't know they had been exposed to enough recently to fail the screening process. Extreme care will ensure you pass the exam and avoid penalties or harsh treatment from potential employers.

0 notes

marwritesgood · 3 years

Text

Peach | S. Basett

Pairing: Simon x WOC!Reader

Timeframe: Season One AU

Summary: Y/n tries to ignore her aunt’s words, while Simon prays he is not yet out of time.

PART ONE // PART TWO

masterlist

A/N: This fic is just over 8K words

I cannot thank you enough for receiving this mini-series with so much love and support! I am so grateful that so many of you have enjoyed reading this as much as I have enjoyed creating it.

I hope you like this ending <3

Philippa was still standing on the steps outside her home when Simon arrived.

He raced through gates atop his horse but, when he quickly realised Y/n was nowhere in sight, he came to a halt. A worker appeared beside him as he came down from the saddle, guiding the horse away so that Simon could approach Lady Bennet.

“Lady Bennet-”

“I take it you hesitated to come here?” Philippa questioned bitterly. She had made it quite clear to the Duke that time was of the essence. Yet, he stood, dishevelled and panting because he was late, despite his delayed best efforts.

“Lady Bennet, please help me,” Simon exhaled, taking his hat off swiftly and holding it to his chest. Philippa had begun walking towards her home before she turned around again.

“Grant me one reason as to why I should help you, your grace,” she sneered. “Did you not possess every available opportunity to make amends with my niece ever since her arrival in London?”

“I did,” he cried, desperate to obtain Philippa’s assistance. “I had every opportunity but, like the fool I am, I took each one for granted. I have been far too preoccupied with affairs I do not care for; I have stupidly disregarded that which matters most to me; my relationship with Y/n.”

He grew quiet for a moment, during which the only sound heard in the cortile was that of Simon’s panting, a consequence of his frantic outburst. Philippa’s cold and glaring expression remained unfazed. She could not yet decide whether she trusted him.

Simon waited until he caught his breath to speak again.

For any other person in the world, he would uphold his reputation of being reserved and brooding. However, Y/n was not any other person in the world to him. She meant a great deal to Simon, and he was willing to disregard his typical persona, stoicism and all if it meant fixing things between them.

Even if it meant a vocal revelation of how he truly felt.

“I... I love her,” Simon admitted, the crinkle between his brows a confirmation of his sincerity. Philippa’s scowl faded. “I know I am undeserving of your ladyship’s help... just as I am unworthy your niece, but I can no longer deny the true nature of my feelings for her. Nor can I begin to describe the regret I have for not being here sooner so that I could confess this to her.”

As silence filled the courtyard once more, Simon glanced at the floor beneath him, overcome with regret and sorrow. Had he reached the Bennet home quicker, it would have been easy.

“Well then... you ought to begin thinking,” Philippa stated flatly, inciting confusion upon Simon. She smirked, amused by Simon’s response. He always was slow to catch on. “Your grace, if I am going to help you reach my niece, the very least you can do is think of what you will say to her.”

A wide grin slowly made itself apparent on Simon’s face. Suddenly the sorrow he felt previously was beginning to be replaced with a newfound hope- one he would, this time, indulge in and act hastily upon. He was not going to allow himself to repeat his same mistakes.

“Alright now,” she smiled. “I presume you have a plan in mind?”

Simon thought for a moment. While he feared he would miss Y/n’s departure, Simon, unfortunately, did not consider what he would do. He began panicking, straining his train of thought as he sought for even a scrap of an idea.

Then Simon remembered how he found himself in this position. He recounted all the times in his past, where he hesitated. Where became so enveloped in all the matters that burdened his mind, he lost sight of what mattered most to him.

He refused to fall subject to that mentality again.

Therefore, for the first time in his life, Simon turned to his instincts. Not his desire for perfection. Not his pride or his arrogance or his vengeance. What mattered most at that moment was how he could best apologise to Y/n and prove that he loved her dearly.

“Do you know the man whose proposal she is to accept?”

Philippa nodded. She narrowed her eyes at Simon, curious as to what he intended to do. Lady Bennet knew she would inevitably agree, no matter how strange the plan turned out to be, but she was still greatly curious and the slightest bit concerned.

“Can you delay him?” Simon asked. “By the time Y/n’s carriage reaches her home, it will be dusk; thus, I presume she will plan to meet with her suitor in the morning. I need you to delay that from happening.”

“And what will you do?” Philippa questioned. “Would it not be wiser for us both to leave immediately?”

Simon shook his head. He thought of the right way to phrase his answer. If Simon revealed his plan to Lady Bennet, he knew she would support him wholeheartedly. However, he thought it best to keep the better part of it concealed. It would have more effect that way, he believed.

“There are a few places I must visit beforehand,” he explained.

“You are asking me to delay Mr Graham so that you can visit a few places?!”

“I am asking your Ladyship to have trust in me,” Simon pleaded. “Hurting your niece is my biggest regret. I intend to atone for my mistakes, not repeat them.”

Philippa stared intently at the Duke. It was a massive ask of her; to leave her family momentarily and interfere with Mr Graham’s pursuits. However, every instinct she possessed led her to believe that Simon was sincere. The confidence he held gave her hope that his plan would work. She sighed.

“Then you must leave immediately,” Philippa ordered him. “Visit the places that say you must visit and then race hastily to my sister’s home. I will do my best to delay Mr Graham until then.”

“Thank you, my lady,” Simon cheered before doing just as he was told.

He raced towards his horse and climbed atop the saddle. Philippa dashed inside to organise yet another carriage headed to her hometown. Both equally determined to keep their beloved Y/n from accepting Mr Graham’s proposal.

***

The Y/l/n household was, needless to say, very much hectic. Y/n had arrived home the night before, hoping she would, at the very least, be able to have some sleep before the next morning. That proved to be impossible.

The words of her Aunt Philippa haunted Y/n during her journey home. Then, just as she feared, it continued to do so as Y/n tossed and turned in her bed. Once she finally began to settle, her mother barged in with sever different dresses for her to try on.

“Sit up straight, dear.”

Y/n flinched at the sudden sound of her mother’s orders. She reluctantly obeyed and straightened her back. When Mrs Y/l/n turned back around, Y/n sighed exasperatedly, slumping her shoulders ever so slightly. Her hands curled into tight fists as she tried to keep herself from dozing off yet again.

“I do not understand,” Mrs Y/l/n agonised as she paced the sitting room. This was an all too familiar situation for Y/n. “Mr Graham is known for being punctual, yet he is running terribly late.”

Y/n could care less that Mr Graham was late. Not while she was living off of less than an hour of slumber.

“You don’t suppose I could have a scone while we wait, mama,” Y/n mumbled. She was not particularly hungry so much as she was desperate for some energy.

“Do not be silly, Y/n. You mustn’t risk staining your dress,” Mrs Y/l/n replied. Eager to make sure everything went perfectly, she sat beside her daughter and asked the same question she had asked every hour previously. “Now, have you prepared what you will say?”

“Yes, mama, for the fifth time, yes,” Y/n droned. Her exhaustion only intensified her irritability which her mother seemingly lived to test continually. “I don’t understand your concern with how I respond. It matters not how I respond but that I simply remember to say ‘yes’?”

On any other given day, Mrs Y/l/n would have scolded her daughter. However, for reasons unknown to Y/n, she simply sighed and took hold of her hand.

“Words hold great power, dear,” Y/n’s mother explained simply. She glanced down at her daughter’s hand momentarily before meeting her gaze once more. “They are a valuable indicator of one’s character. How Mr Graham proposes to you will tell you of his attitude towards you and your future marriage. How you respond will do the same to him.”

Y/n nodded, knowing first-hand the amount of truth in her mother’s statement.

She did not care for her response to him as she did not care for him or their future marriage. Y/n simply wished to move past what had happened with her and Simon. This was beginning to become clear to her.

“I will respond to him properly, mama,” Y/n assured.

Mrs Y/l/n smiled, lifting her hand to cup the side of her daughter’s face. It was slowly dawning on her that in only a matter of time, Y/n would be married. When Mrs Y/l/n sent Y/n her letter, she knew the issue of her daughter being unwed would resolve itself in one way or another. However, Mrs Y/l/n was taken by complete surprise when Y/n came home on her own accord.

It was far too out of character for her.

She tried her best to look past it. Mrs Y/l/n rushed to get everything in order for Mr Graham’s arrival. However, it was becoming clear to her that she had been too preoccupied with doing so.

As Mrs Y/l/n struggled to find a way to question Y/n about her behaviour, Mr Graham’s carriage arrived outside her home. Y/n looked out her window and jumped to her feet. Before she could race to the door, her mother held her back.

“Before he comes in, dear,” Mrs Y/l/n began. “Are you... Are you sure you are ready for this? Is this truly what you want?”

Y/n scoffed. Her previous concerns about accepting Mr Graham’s proposal suddenly became easy to look past. Y/n’s resentment for her mother began to surface, adding much to her motivations to go through with marrying.

“Mama, please do not pretend to care about what it is I want.”

Mrs Y/l/n had not expected her to react in such a manner. She was not prepared to have her mothering methods confronted. Y/n’s mother’s primary concern had always been ensuring her daughter marries. It gave Mrs Y/l/n significant discomfort to realise how this resulted in her overlooking what should have mattered more.

Not to mention how she only came to realise this just as her daughter was about to agree to marry a man she expressed great disinterest in just weeks before.

Y/n rushed out of the room before her mother could say anything further. As she reached the hallway, Y/n watched the doors burst open. Much to her surprise, it was not Mr Graham alone who walked through. Instead, Mr Graham was with her Aunt Philippa, who relentlessly attempted to guide him in the opposite direction.

“Mr Graham, please, I must show you-”

“Lady Bennet, you have shown me enough gardens,” Mr Graham insisted, trying his best to contain his annoyance. “In fact, I am quite certain you have shown me almost every garden in town.”

“All except the best one, sir, which is located just outside the-”

“- Aunt Philippa, enough!” Y/n shouted.

Mrs Y/l/n reached the hallway just as Y/n called her sister’s name. Mr Graham exhaled tiredly before holding his hands behind his back and regaining his composure.

Philippa sighed. Her attempts at delaying Mr Graham by badgering him to stop at all 9 gardens on their way to her sister’s home all appeared to be in vain. Simon had yet to arrive, and it was clear they were out of time.

“Philippa?” Mrs Y/l/n said in shock. Her sister had always made an effort to give notice before visiting.

“Hello, sister,” Lady Bennet replied awkwardly, trying her best to force a smile.

Y/n had been glaring at her aunt.

She was furious that after she made clear her intention countless times to Philippa, her aunt still chose to meddle. Y/n felt more adamant than ever to go through, even if to simply spite her aunt. It was due time that they learned to refrain from making her decisions for her.

Even if it meant marrying a man she did not particularly care for.

She forced herself to appear alright, mainly in the hopes that it would influence her feelings. That it would obliviate her concerns. It was her last resort at being ok with what she was about to do.

“Mr Graham,” Y/n called out. The man stood tall, prompting Philippa to grimace. “You may join me in the sitting room.”

She walked ahead of him, guiding Mr Graham to the room. Once he walked in, Y/n turned around and closed the door before returning her attention to him. She fiddled with her hands while he cleared his throat.

Y/n was fixated by the words of both her mother and her aunt. She kept asking herself the same question Philippa had. Could she be happy? Could she possibly find any enjoyment in marrying a man like Mr Graham? In living an inevitable future with him?

Mr Graham was exhausted from the long journey he was forced to take with Lady Bennet. For the most part, his mind was blank, aside from his impending desire to return home.

“Is there anything you wish to say, Mr Graham?” Y/n asked. Mr Graham was taken aback. “Before I give you my response, that is.”

Y/n was resorting to humouring her mother’s advice. She wanted to see how Mr Graham was going to ask for her hand so that, this time, she could identify his intentions. Y/n wished to put aside the conclusions she reached about Mr Graham; he was arrogant and ignorant.

She hoped he could prove that he had one if any, good qualities aside from possessing wealth.

“Uhm-” Mr Graham coughed. “You will remember my father is the primary supplier of livestock commodities in our town.”

“Yes, I do remember-”

“By livestock, I am of course referring to domesticated animals raised in agricultural settings,” he continued, despite Y/n’s best efforts to get a word in. It seemed Mr Graham believed he had reason to take her for someone simple-minded; reasons Y/n did not care for but absolutely resented. “And by commodities, I mean the products-”

“-Yes, I am aware of what words mean, Mr Graham,” Y/n retorted.

“That you are,” he smiled, patronising her even more.

Outside the sitting room, Philippa and Mrs Y/l/n stood with their ears pressed against the door in the corridor. The more they heard Mr Graham speak, the more concerned they became for Y/n. Philippa’s stomach churned as she thought of her poor niece being wed to such a man. She could hardly believe she managed to last the journey there with him and not be at her wit’s end.

“I was recently made aware of the amount your father is offering for your hand,” Mr Graham stated, wincing as he did so. Y/n knew how small her dowry was, and she was annoyed that Mr Graham unnecessarily reminding her. “And you will be pleased to know that I am willing to look past it.”

“How charitable of you, sir,” Y/n muttered. Mr Graham did not catch on to her sarcasm. He was an easily distracted man, Y/n concluded. One need only groom his ego, even sarcastically, for him to be oblivious.

Y/n was reminded again of what her Aunt

“Yes, it is quite charitable of me,” Mr Graham remarked, smiling as he felt pleased with himself. “In fact, that is the very reason I first asked for your hand. Father believed it a grand idea that I marry a woman of your kind. Should attract a different demographic to choosing Graham as their supplier.”

“A woman... of my kind?”

The Grahams were the primary supplier of livestock. However, the few other families in Y/n town, who were not white, found livestock commodities elsewhere. It was clear Y/n that they viewed her as a pawn in their pursuit of broadening their clientele.

Y/n could already foresee where the conversation was headed, and suddenly her aunt’s questions held all the more weight.

‘Do you truly believe you will be happy?’

It took her only a moment to think it over. There was no denying that Mr Graham possessed all the ignorance and arrogance Y/n suspected he did, so she considered if it was worth bearing. Would a mediocre future with him be worth having to endure his jabs at her identity, her class and her family?

Mr Graham and his father dealt with domesticated animals for a living. It was clear that they viewed Y/n just the same.

Thus, her mind was decided.

“I expected you to be grateful,” Mr Graham commented, confused as to why Y/n was not flattered that of all the two women who made eye contact with him at the town ball. It was she who received a proposal from him. “You do not exactly have an abundance of suitors lined up at your door. Not to mention, I was generous enough not to withdraw my proposal after you asked for... time to consider your answer.”

Out in the corridor, the two sisters exchanged glances. Philippa and Mrs Y/l/n both argued quietly over who was to barge in and reprimand Mr Graham.

“That is quite enough, Mr Graham,” Y/n hissed, beating both her mother and her aunt to it. Her mind was, after all, decided.

Y/n had struggled for most of her life with control in that she had little of it. If it was not society dictating how she was to live and breathe, it was her mother. This time would be different, Y/n decided.

This time, she would be taking control and making decisions based solely on her own input.

“Thank you for expressing your feelings, your family history and your intentions with such candour,” Y/n began sweetly. Just as she expected, Mr Graham took nothing but pride in what he believed was sincere gratitude. “And thank you for being so charitable as to offer a lowly woman such as myself a proposal of marriage.”

Philippa and Mrs Y/l/n listened in with concern. They both knew Y/n too well to believe that she send Mr Graham off with civility and decorum. Y/n was the least bit concerned for either.

“You have been so generous with your time,” Y/n continued. “Therefore, I will not keep you waiting any longer... Mr Graham, I will not be accepting your proposal.”

Y/n took great pleasure in rejecting his proposal. Mr Graham grew pale as he quickly realised what her answer was. He stood on the opposite side of the sitting room, yet Y/n was desperate to further away.

“You... You mustn’t be serious,” he exhaled dumbfounded. The man possessed a great ego when he first enters Y/n’s home. Thus she was determined to shrink, if not demolish it.

“On the contrary, sir,” Y/n smiled, this time genuinely. “I am perfectly serious.”

“S-surely you have not considered the ramifications of denying my proposal,” Mr Graham reasoned.

Y/n was far too accustomed to being lectured by white men on not considering her actions’ consequences. They, of all people, she believed, were the least bit qualified to talk another on such matters. Not when they are granted every luxury and advantage at birth.

“Miss Y/l/n, you must know, after two seasons of rejected proposals, it is doubtful you will receive another after me,” Mr Graham explained. He was merely adding insult to injury. “And with a dowry as small as yours, I predict your future will be bleak.”

“Perhaps you are right,” Y/n replied, her head held high as she knew Mr Graham was expecting her to be grovelling. “Perhaps I will not receive another proposal after you. Perhaps I will be doomed to live a life of struggle and severe austerity, but make no mistake Mr Graham. I would sooner commit to the life of an impoverished spinster than I would, ever again, entertain the prospect of being your wife.”

Y/n marched towards the door and swung it open, revealing Philippa and Mrs Y/l/n eavesdropping on their conversation. Y/n hoped that would be the case, as an audience’s presence prompted Mr Graham’s mortification to increase tenfold.

“I must ask you to leave immediately.”

Mr Graham did not wait another moment. He just about sprinted out the door, determined to never step foot in the Y/l/n home again. Y/n stood in the hallway with a smirk and a proud glimmer in her eye. If she felt as a result of taking control, her only regret was not doing so sooner.

Perhaps Y/n would regret her decision later in her life. Maybe she only created more issues for herself than anything else. However, all that would be affairs she would attend to last, in the far off future. For now, she was happy.

Y/n headed towards her bedroom without saying a word to her mother nor her aunt. She had not done so on purpose. She was simply desperate to change out of her corset and resume resting her fatigued body. Once Y/n was altered, she sat on the edge of her bed. As she let out an audible sigh, Y/n slumped her shoulders and fell back.

She had never been so grateful for her mattress.

Y/n closed her eyes momentarily. She was very sleep-deprived, yet she was on an incredible high from the adrenaline of rejecting Mr Graham so explicitly. Before she opened her eyes, Y/n felt the mattress sink at her sides. As she opened her eyes, she realised both her mother and aunt were lying beside her.

“I must apologise to you both,” Y/n explained, reach her arms out to hold each of their hands. “I have caused you both a great deal of grief. And it all appears to be in vain now that I have rejected Mr Graham.”

Philippa and Mrs Y/l/n turned to face Y/n, both with the same expression.

“You may be sorry for many things in life, dear,” Mrs Y/l/n began. “But you mustn’t dare apologise for denying Mr Graham’s hand... you mustn’t ever.”

Y/n smiled. She was unsure what motivated her motivated to have such a change in character. However, she was far too pleased with it to question it.

“Any thought as to what you will do now, dearest?” Philippa asked. She looked over to her niece with her brows raised, and her sister followed suit.

It was clear that neither of them could keep Y/n from doing what she wanted. Therefore, it was decided that both Philippa and Mrs Y/l/n would simply stand aside and hold her hand throughout it all. Y/n thought for a moment.

“Perhaps another season?” Y/n answered.

In an ideal world, Y/n would have opted for something different. Perhaps she would have embraced the idea of being a spinster. In perfect world, such a fate would not be so grim. However, that was not the world Y/n lived in.

And so she opted to embrace the best and only option she had.

“Truly, dear?” Mrs Y/l/n exclaimed. While she was overcome with excitement, she wanted to ensure it was her daughter’s genuine desire.

“Yes, mama,” Y/n insisted, smiling weakly. She hoped in time the prospect would become more appealing to her. “-and it will be much different this time, hopefully for the better, as I am now willing to comply with you and your rules and your overprotective nature. I want it all.”

Mrs Y/l/n did not take offence. Instead, she simply laughed and leaned her head in to kiss Y/n’s temple. She had raised a mighty blunt and greatly opinionated daughter.

Mrs Y/l/n was most proud of it.

“I must excuse myself,” Y/n’s mother said. She placed her arms behind her and lifted herself off Y/n’s mattress. “Your father will be delighted to hear the news, I am quite sure.”

Y/n laughed at her mother’s excitement. Once Mrs Y/l/n left to recount the morning to her husband, it was just Y/n and her aunt.

“I hope you won’t mind me asking, dear,” Philippa whispered, inching closer to her niece. She feared the next subject of conversation would strike a chord with Y/n. “Has any of this changed your feelings... towards Simon?”

“No,” Y/n answered shortly, her voice neither louder nor quieter than previously. “He will soon be a married man, so it is most appropriate I refrain from paying him any mind so as to not remind myself of my feelings for him.”

Philippa huffed, torn as to whether or not she should tell her niece. Would doing so disrupt the duke’s plans? Would it not be better for Y/n to hear the truth from Simon himself when he eventually came? Would he ever arrive?

“I, however, must admit- whatever rage and anger I once held against him has since passed,” Y/n sighed. “You were right in what you said before... Although it will not be me who marries Simon, I do hope to marry someone like him.”

Someone like who he was before he became Duke Hastings, Y/n thought.

“You do?” Philippa smiled. She decided not to reveal anything to her niece quite yet. Lady Bennet was confident such a task should be carried out by Simon and him only.

“Hmm,” Y/n nodded. “Someone of good character and of a kind heart. A man who does not resent me when I raise arguments but rather engages in them.”

“It is the least of what you deserve in a husband, my dear,” Philippa replied.

The two of them shuffled to the top of Y/n’s bed, where her pillows laid. Both were exhausted from travelling in from London and enduring what had been a most eventful morning.

They both remained silent to get some sleep in before Mrs Y/l/n would eventually call them down for breakfast. However, just as Philippa began to drift off, his niece disrupted the quiet.

“Aunt Philippa,” she murmured. “I never did ask you what exactly compelled you to come... let alone badger Mr Graham as a means of delaying his arrival.”

Y/n was unsure what she was expected her aunt to reply. Philippa grew nervous as she tried to respond in a manner that would not reveal the real reason she came to her sister’s home.

“I-I,” Philippa stammered quietly. “-I simply could not sit idle... and let you accept Mr Graham’s proposal.”

Y/n hummed before turning to her side. It was a predictable answer, yet it left her with a bitter feeling of disappointment. She slept without

Philippa sighed in relief before hoping that wherever Simon was, whatever it was he was doing that moment, that it would not hinder him any longer from finally reaching the Y/l/n home.

***

Y/n awoke from her nap to an empty bed and an open room. She was curious about where her aunt had gone, not to mention why her mother did not wake her for breakfast. The sky had darkened significantly since she first fell asleep, though Y/n was sure it was not yet evening.

She climbed out of bed and donned a simple dress. Y/n could hear the faint sound of her parents talking, so she suspected they were with Philippa. Afterwards, Y/n wandered down the steps of her home and headed to the dining room. The conversation grew quiet, prompting her to call out.

“Have you truly begun eating without me?” Y/n laughed as she pushed the doors open.

As she stepped inside, a man stood from his seat- across the table from Philippa and Mr and Mrs Y/l/n. He turned to face Y/n with his hands held behind his back.

“Simon.”

Y/n was awestruck. All she could say was his name, and after muttering it quietly when he stood, she found herself left speechless. What could motivation could he possibly have to travel there from London.

“His grace will be joining us for dinner,” Mrs Y/l/n explained, refuting Y/n’s last hopes that it was not yet evening. “It will not be ready for a small while, so perhaps you could walk him to the garden in the meantime.��

“‘Tis the best one in town,” Philippa commented, a reference to the wild goose chase she led Mr Graham on just earlier that day.

Y/n remained quiet, unsure as to what was happening. She expected her mother to be repulsed by the sight of Simon. Y/n had, after all, rejected countless marriage proposals for reasons involving him. However, she was not repulsed.

She was smiling. Glowing, rather. Even Philippa and Y/n’s father seemed to be beaming despite sitting in silence. Y/n could not decide whether that should comfort her or worry her.

“He requests a private audience with you before dinner is served,” Mrs Y/l/n continued.

“H-He... does?” Y/n stuttered, looking at Simon in confusion. He appeared to be avoiding her gaze, which further provoked her curiosity.

“I do,” Simon replied shortly.

Y/n turned to her mother in confusion. Indeed, she would not send her unmarried daughter off, with an available man, on an unchaperoned walk without explanation nor context.

“I cannot possibly leave you to make dinner alone, mama,” Y/n stated. The thought of walking with Simon, especially after the nature of their last conversation, left her much unsettled.

“Nonsense, I will offer my assistance,” Philippa responded. Y/n narrowed her eyes at her aunt. She had always avoided being in the kitchen with her sister by all means necessary.

“It is decided then,” Mrs Y/l/n cheered, guiding Simon and Y/n towards the door that led to their garden.

“Mama, it looks as though it will begin to rain,” Y/n whispered, hoping to stop her mother but to no avail.

“You will not be far from the house, dear,” Mrs Y/l/n replied, opening the back door and guiding the two outside. “Should that be the case, you need only take a short walk back.”

Before Y/n could think of another way to avoid the walk, her mother rushed inside, slamming the door close behind her. There was no more avoiding, it seemed. Y/n sighed before reluctantly walking towards her mother’s botanical garden.

He was initially quiet. Simon had rehearsed what he was to say several times before he arrived. However, it was not until he saw Y/n again that all his prepared words vanished from his memory.

Y/n was conflicted. She was overcome with a myriad of emotions, which always seemed to be the case for Simon. While she was still very hurt by his actions and was determined to voice her feelings, Y/n felt it necessary to first break the ice with civility.

“How long will you remain in town?” Y/n asked.

“I have not yet decided,” Simon answered, after a moment of deliberation. He believed it wise to tread lightly in their conversation, though he too was determined to let his feeling become known.

His answer left Y/n’s curiosity to grow.

“Why not?” She queried. “I suspect Miss Bridgerton will be eagerly awaiting your return to London.”

Simon smirked. He missed her witty remarks terribly, just as he missed her company. Y/n had not intended for her response to land with such snideness. However, it was clear to her that Simon did not resent it.

“You suspect wrong,” he answered gleefully, catching Y/n off guard. Simon took amusement in her confusion but did not hesitate to clarify the situation. “She has already promised her hand to another... His royal highness Prince Friedrich. I was informed of the news this morning.”

“You do not seem upset,” Y/n commented as she studied Simon carefully.

“That is precisely why I wished to speak with you,” he explained.

Simon stopped walking, prompting Y/n to do the same. They stood by her mother’s hyacinths, specifically the purple ones. Simon took inhaled deeply as he prepared to explain himself and as he hoped, with all his might, that she might forgive him.

“I lied to you,” he began.

“Yes,” Y/n muttered quickly before Simon could continue. Had he genuinely come all this way just to recount their argument, she wondered. “I remember our conversation vividly.”

“No,” Simon cried. “What I meant to say was that I lied to you... when I told you that I was courting Miss Bridgerton and that I intended to marry her.”

Y/n remained silent, allowing Simon to continue.

“She approached me earlier this season,” he explained. “- with a proposition that I pretend to court her. She needed more suitors, and I sought to improve my public image.”

Y/n recalled the countless articles written about Simon, painting him as a stoic and brooding snob. It made sense that he wanted to change this portrayal, Y/n, though.

“I tried my best to put an end to our pretence earlier... on the day you approached me at Hyde Park, in fact,” Simon said. “However, Miss Bridgerton was adamant that it continues until she could attract the attention of Prince Friedrich. And I had already given her my word not to reveal our ruse to another soul.”

Y/n remained quiet as she took in his revelation. The more Simon spoke, the more Y/n understood why he acted so cold to her. He was always most irritable when he was hiding something.

“Peach,” Simon sighed. He reached out for Y/n’s hand, and, to his surprise, she did not pull away. “For all the pain and sorrow I caused you that night at the gala, I am so sorry.”

She squeezed his hand tightly as a way of comforting him. Y/n knew the way Simon could be so cruel to himself. Considering the impossible position he was placed in, she could only imagine the extent to which this had been burdening him.

“While I wish I had been spared from getting hurt,” Y/n began. Simon winced but nodded. He, too, wished she had not been caught in the middle. “I do understand why you had to lie to me... and I think it unfitting if I were to continue to hold that against you.”

Simon exhaled in relief.

Y/n smiled, comforted by his reaction. She, too, was relieved. After the gala at the Danbury estate, Y/n deemed Simon a stranger, someone she could no longer recognise. Yet, as they stood opposite each other in her mother’s garden, Y/n felt she knew exactly who the man that stood before her was.

The two continued walking across her mother’s garden. After Simon thanked Y/n several times for being so understanding, she recounted her morning to him. Simon struggled to contain his laughter when Y/n explained the 9 gardens Philippa forced Mr Graham to stop.

“So what will you do now?” Simon asked curiously.

“I will have to endure another season,” Y/n replied. “I have already promised mama I would comply with her this time around. Hopefully, my luck has not yet run out."

Simon nodded, though he resisted the urge to frown. She appeared to be excited. Hopeful, even. He worried this indicated a change in her affections for him. Nonetheless, he cast his worries aside for a moment. Y/n’s happiness was his primary concern.

Simon thought back to the story Y/n told of her rejecting Mr Graham’s proposal. In particular, he remembered the comment Y/n said he made regarding how dowry.

“If that is the case,” he began. “Then I insist on making a donation... to contribute to your dowry.”

Y/n’s feet came to a halt as she furrowed her brows in both shock and confusion. Instinctively, she began devising a way to reject his offer without offending him. Y/n was never oblivious to the significant difference in her financial standing to Simon’s, but she certainly never wanted to take advantage of it.

“It can remain anonymous,” Simon insisted. He knew his offer was far from appropriate as a woman’s dowry was her family’s responsibility. However, that was precisely what Y/n was to him: family. “If you are concerned about what others might say, I assure you I will personally see to it that the donation remains private.”

“Simon, no-”

“- Please, I insist,” he held firmly. Y/n continued to shake her head profusely, but Simon refused to give in. “It is the least I can do after playing such a significant role in hindering you from marrying these past two seasons.”

Y/n paused, taken aback by the fact he knew that.

“Simon,” she began. Her tone was neither shocked nor angry. “You mustn’t hold yourself accountable for a decision I made. Yes, you may have been the reason for it, but it was I who ultimately made a choice... And I take full responsibility for the position I am now in as a result.”

Simon nodded sheepishly.

“Regardless,” he said softly. “I still insist... You mean a great deal to me, Peach. Ensuring you have a befitting dowry is the least of what I owe to you, particularly after all our years of friendship.”

The grey clouds grew darker as the weather turned sour, and the day slowly came to an end. However, that quickly became the least of Y/n concerns. Her lips parted briefly, but she struggled to say anything.

Simon let out a heavy exhale before reaching his hand into the pocket of his coat. He looked at Y/n and smiled. She still appeared adamant to deny his offer of making a donation to her father.

“Do you remember the story,” he began, “- of the first time we played in the maze at Lady Danbury’s home?”

Y/n chuckled, unsure whether he was serious or if the question were rhetorical.

“Of course you do,” Simon continued, laughing all the while. “You recount it at every available opportunity.”

His laughter was disrupted by Y/n’s fist, gently colliding with his shoulder.

“Please allow me to finish, Peach,” he cried as he rubbed his shoulder. Y/n rolled her eyes playfully but allowed him to continue nonetheless. “You recount it at every available opportunity, but you always failed to include the part of the story I favoured most.”

Y/n raised her eyebrows in surprise.

“After I found you in the maze- crying hysterically, I must add,” Simon quipped. As Y/n raised her hand to repeat her previous action, Simon caught her fist in his hand. Their eyes locked as he did so, and the tension between them grew this. Y/n lowered her hand coughed awkwardly, prompting Simon to continue. “I took you to see Lady Danbury’s fruit orchids.”

Simon’s smile grew remarkably wide. He had purposely refrained from retelling his favourite part of the maze story to Y/n. He was most excited to finally do so.

“You ran straight for one tree in particular,” Simon said. Y/n’s brows snapped together as she tried to remember. “I picked some fruit, and we ate it beneath that tree. However, you were still quite upset, and that was when I assured you I never would have left you behind... Do you remember which tree we sat beneath?”

After giving it a moment of thought, Y/n gasped quietly when she finally remembered. She looked back to Simon and smiled. In a quiet whisper, she answered his question.

“Peach.”

Simon nodded. It was after that day that he refrained from calling Y/n by her name. After they left Danbury’s orchids when he chose to instead call her ‘Peach’ to remind himself of that day on of his promise not to leave her behind. Despite falling short on that promise, Simon was determined to fulfil it.

He took a step towards Y/n and slowly replaced his grin to express both sincerity and fear. Y/n studied him in anticipation of what he was to say next. Simon seemed greatly troubled by something, she thought.

“If you wish to find another suitor next season,” Simon started, unable to hide the sorrow he felt at imagining it. He inhaled sharply and, in doing so, forced himself to remain composed. “I will do everything in my power to help you in your pursuits. Whether that be in the form of financial support or advice. Whatever it is you may need from me, Peach... my answer will always be yes.”

Y/n’s eyes widened, and her mouth curled into a frown. She could see right through Simon’s attempts to his sadness.

“But if there is any chance,” he question, his tone frantic and desperate. He inched forward slightly and deepened his gaze at Y/n before he continued. “If there is even a fleeting chance that your feelings towards me are... are as they were before, then please tell me now.”

Just as he finished speaking, droplets of rain began to fall. They grew bigger and more rapid as time went on, but neither Simon nor Y/n noticed. Both were far too concerned with the affairs of their affections for one another.

Y/n held her breath as she looked at Simon. Earlier that day, she decided to enter her third season. She had finally come to terms with knowing that casting aside her feeling for Simon would be her best method of moving forward. Yet as they stood in her mother’s garden, she found herself with no choice but to confront them.

“They are,” she confessed, her voice almost overpowered by the sound of the rainfall, though just loud enough for Simon to hear. “My feelings for you, they... they have not changed.

Her words were music to his ears. Simon reached his arm out and took hold of her hand. He felt his heartbeat rapidly against his chest. Despite the cold and wet weather, Simon felt a warm sensation in his chest.

“I must assure you,” he spoke, glancing down at the sight of her hand in his. “This is not a result of impulse or of the heat of the moment. Rather, this is something I have anticipated doing, I... I have desperately hoped to be able to do for quite some time.”

“Simon,” Y/n quavered. “W-What are you referring to?”

Simon looked up at the sky. He laughed as the heavy rain showered over his face, and then he turned back to Y/n. She did not move from where she stood but, instead, studied Simon closely. Her mouth fell agape when, without a moment’s notice, Simon knelt down.

Y/n gasped. There was a loud slushing sound made as Simon’s knee sunk into the mud. He was unfazed by it, which made Y/n shock only grow. He couldn’t be, she thought. It was not possible. And indeed, if he intended to do as she suspected, he would live to regret it.

In a swift motion, she too fell her knee. Standing up while Simon knelt before she felt all too overwhelming. Y/n was confident he was not serious, despite him expressing profusely that he was. Simon’s eyes grew wide as he looked down and noticed the mud-splattered across the hem of Y/n’s gown.

“Peach, your dress-”

“Never mind my dress,” Y/n croaked. “Simon, what are you doing?”

“What I should have done two years ago,” he replied instantly.

Y/n clasped her hand over her mouth. Her hair and her clothes were drenched from the rainfall, as was Simon’s, yet neither seemed to notice. He reached out and took hold of her free hand.

“I know I am the least bit deserving of your hand, as well as of course your forgiveness and your friendship,” Simon began. “However, these past years away from you, and these past two days in particular... They have been pure torment. And I have since realised that I would be a fool not to make an offer of marriage to you and hope that you would be so kind as to accept it, because... Well, because I love you, Peach. Fervently so.”

“What... What about your vow to never marry?” Y/n asked.

Indeed he had not thought this entirely through, she wondered. This was the moment, she believed. The moment he would take back his proposal.

“You said before that I have the luxury to choose while you do not,” Simon answered. Slowly, he let go of Y/n hand and lifted it to her face, holding the side of her cheek tenderly. “Well... I believe it’s due time that my choices begin constituting to my happiness... and that of the only woman I love.”

Tears welled up in Y/n’s eyes and began to trickle down her face as she wept. She felt it surreal, the fact that Simon was offering his hand to her. And as it appeared, she had run out of reasons to argue against it.

“I know I have caused you much suffering,” Simon sighed, rubbing his thumb gently across Y/n’s cheek, wiping her tears away while doing so. “But I am determined to spend the rest of my life atoning for it by doing everything in my power to ensure your happiness... That is if you will have me?”

Y/n thought of her mother’s advice earlier regarding how one’s words indicate one character and their intentions. She thought of how all her past suitors made proposals from a place of arrogance, how they all made the argument that their financial standing was reason enough for her accept.

That was not what mattered most to Y/n.

Love and happiness; that was what she sought most from marriage. After years of being told that to do so was naïve and pointless, Simon was offering precisely that.

“Yes,” Y/n answered, laughing beneath her breath as she exhaled. She stood up and planted her feet firmly in the mud before reaching her hand down to help Simon do the same.

“Yes?” Simon repeated in disbelief.

Y/n chuckled and helped him to stand, after which she reached her hands out and placed them on the sides of his face. Even in the pouring raid and even covered in mud from the waist down, he was still so beautiful, she thought. Simon precisely the same of her

“Yes! I... I will marry you,” Y/n declared, her smile growing wider as she spoke. She could not make that statement repeatedly when she would eventually share the news.

Simon wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer to him. He leaned closer to her slowly and kissed her sweetly. Y/n held the sides of his face firmly, pulling him even closer to her, causing him to smile against her lips. Shortly after, Simon slowly pulled away, leaving Y/n gasping for air.

“I am sorry it took me so long to do this, Peach,” he said softly, gazing apologetically at the woman he could finally address as his fiancee.

“It does not matter anymore, Simon,” Y/n replied, pressing her temple against his.

He grinned before leaning in to kiss her once more. Y/n lowered her hands and left them placed against his coat’s lapels. She wished for the moment to last a lifetime. However, as the rain grew heavier and the sky grew darker, Simon pulled away again.

“Perhaps we should return,” Simon suggested, despite much enjoying being alone with Y/n. She immediately groaned at the thought of going back. “I imagine your mother will be quite cross if we miss dinner.”

“Simon... I have waited a very long time for this moment,” Y/n began. “I will not be rushed by you or my mama.”

Simon laughed before kissing her once again.

When they finally walked back to the house, Simon continued to glance over at Y/n and at the sight of their hands intertwined. He thought of all the different ways things could have ended between them.

What would have happened if she had accepted Mr Graham’s proposal or even that of her previous suitors? What would have happened if he did, in fact, marry Miss Bridgerton? What would have happened if he had just proposed to her when she first confessed her feelings to him?

Simon wondered how many times things could have drastically been made different between them. He thought of how many choices, events and actions dictated whether they would ever be engaged.

And all he could do was smile at his beautiful fiancee and be completely and utterly grateful that this was how their story concluded.

@fuckoffthanos @awesomebooklover17 @shadowfoxey @eternallyvenus @smol-grandpa @deakesthegreatest

#simon basset x reader #simon basset imagine #duke hastings x reader #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #Bridgerton #simon basset #duke hastings

1K notes · View notes

slightlyrebelliouswriter23 · 4 years

Text

Holy | Jurdan One Shot

Written for: Jurdan Smut Week 2020, Day 1: Dom/Sub @jurdannet @jurdannetrevels

Summary: “You’re a liar. A dirty, mortal liar.”

WC: 3171

Rating: E is for Everyone be sinning in this fic

CW: EXPLICIT NSFW CONTENT. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

AO3 | Masterlist | Based on this edit

“On your knees, darling,” Cardan’s voice is dangerous, silken, like the ruby red ribbon he’s holding.

It takes Jude a great deal of effort to sink obediently to the floor. She is so unused to bending at the knee, but trust is the name of the game—a game Jude needs ample practice playing.

Her palms are sweaty with anticipation, her heartbeat a riot in her chest. She is flushed and bare, kneeling before him like some kind of sinless supplicant, though this may be the biggest lie of them all.

Tonight, Jude had lied.

She’d lied to Cardan and he’d known it from the moment the words left her lips. Part of her thinks she lied just to bait him.

A bait he all too willingly took. His temper had glittered in his eyes before he’d swept them off back to the Royal Chambers, closed and bolted the doors behind them, sent the guards away.

Then, he’d undressed her, as one would a wound.

Now, Jude studies the ornate rug she kneels on, the worn leather of Cardan’s boots as he crouches before her, and thinks this is the best kind of trouble she could have possibly sought to get herself into.

And also the worst. The idea of being at the mercy of another is still a terrifying prospect to the High Queen of Elfhame. Fear, she’d found however, in the right circumstances could be quite the heady aphrodisiac.

“My queen,” Cardan says, brushing a stray hair away from her face. “Exquisite. As stardust.”

Jude can’t help but blush deeper.

Her husband’s compliments, though scarce, were never ordinary, even after all these years. And why should they be, when they loved each other in such extremes?

Cardan takes up her hands gently in his and begins wrapping the long length of ribbon around her wrists, binding them in front so that she is not entirely in control, but not entirely without it either.

It’s funny to Jude that Cardan should be always so careful in this, considering the not-at-all-gentle treatment she is about to receive.

She doesn’t dare laugh, though. Not now.

“Do you understand why I am doing this, Jude,” he asks.

“Yes.” Her eyes flit over the sharp angles of his face. She meets Cardan’s gaze, as bravely as she can. His is calm, like black water before a storm. A storm which shimmers on the edge of the horizon between them.

Cardan stares at her bottom lip, now pulled between her teeth, as if he might bite into it too, given the chance. Jude is sure she would let him.

After a moment, Cardan lowers his gaze back to the task at hand. “And why is that?” He loops the ribbon around itself then pulls tight.

“Because I lied,” she tells him, not an ounce of remorse in her voice.

“Precisely,” he says. “And what is it you lied about?”

“I said I hated you.”

“Yes.” Cardan nods, looping the ribbon a second time. “You said you hated me—in front of the entire court.” He pins her with a glare from underneath the trellis of his lashes, and Jude is reminded of the way in which he used to look upon her frequently—with an odd coupling of ire and lust.

Jude’s heart flies to her throat. There’s no use in denying it. “I did.”

“Why is that a bad thing, sweet villain?”

“Because they might misunderstand,” Jude says. “Because they might think I hate you in earnest.”

“And why is that a bad thing?”

“Because we need to remain a united front for the sake of Elfhame.”

A small smile plays at the corners of his devastating mouth. While her answer is not technically wrong, it’s not the answer he was looking for. Cardan ties off the ribbon in a careful bow, then looks at her with one raised brow, challenging.

Jude looks down at her bound hands, because it’s still hard to admit vulnerability, even to him. Even so exposed as she is now. “Because I don’t actually hate you.” It is a half truth, at best.

Her husband grips her chin between his thumb and the crook of his forefinger, canting her face so that she must look at him.

“Prove it.” Cardan says this like a dare. Probably because it is. The sweet plum wine of his breath fans across her face, making her head spin.

“I love you,” Jude says, softly. Saying these words aloud is always the greatest submission of herself, her deepest surrender.

Cardan knows this, and looks at her like she is the one and only wonder of the world. “You love me,” he repeats, letting go of her chin. It sounds more like he is trying to convince himself of the statement, rather than confirm she answered his question to his satisfaction.

Jude raises her bound hands to cup his cheeks. His face is warm and a bit stubbly. She strokes the pad of her thumb down his jawline. “Very much,” she says.

The way he closes his eyes, leans into her touch, makes something in her heart fracture a little.

“And I, you, my formidable dagger,” Cardan says. Removing her hands from his face, he places a kiss on both her palms before rising to his feet.

Then, something in his air shifts. He circles her like prey. Jude knows she must stay still, but the urge to follow his every move is a tempting one.

“Looking at you now, I see strength and grace. A sharply honed beauty,” Cardan says from behind her. Jude feels her cheeks heat anew, and she is glad he cannot see her blooming humility.

“I also see a liar,” Cardan continues. “And for liars, there is punishment.”

She can feel the thrumming of her pulse, every inch of her alive under his gaze. “Yes, my husband.”

She hears a rumble roll through Cardan’s chest.

Jude knows full well what that particular term of endearment does to him. And since she is so compromised before him, it is only fair she assert herself where she can.

“I am going to spank you, Jude,” Cardan tells her, apparently deciding to ignore transgression. “And when that is through, I am going to take you.”

A delicious curl of desire licks Jude’s core. She shivers.

“Does that sound like fair punishment to you?” he asks.

“Yes, my husband.”

Cardan is at her ear, long fingers at her throat before she can blink. They are feather-light, tracing up the veins in her neck, feeling the pound of her pulse there. It is threatening enough that Jude is given to staying very, very still. She feels the drive of his shoulder against her back.

“If you call me that one more time, Jude,” he growls so close to her that she can feel the vibrations of his voice skitter down her spine, “I will have no choice but to bend you over and fuck you with wild abandon. I will not be concerned with your pleasure, nor will I await your release.”

Jude’s eyes widen and she draws in a sharp breath.

“This will bring me no great amount of satisfaction,” Cardan continues, “As I do so love to feel you come around me. You want to satisfy me, don’t you, Jude?”

Jude swallows and nods.

“Good,” Cardan says, stroking a hand down her hair before moving away. “You are safe, dear Jude, but you will relinquish. Now, lean forward and be still.”

Jude complies, without hesitation this time. Since her wrists are bound, she goes down on her elbows, ass raised in the air.

She is completely exposed. Vulnerable.

Cardan kneels down beside her, sidling up to her left hip. She can feel the bulge straining beneath his trousers.

She’s not sure if it’s this or the knowledge of what’s to come that makes her slick with want. But when she feels Cardan’s palm come to rest on her backside, the simple touch sends a lance of heat coursing through her.

Her thighs press together.

“So eager, my queen,” Cardan hums, steadying her with a grip of his free hand on her right hip. “One might wonder if you devised this plan from the start.”

Jude grins wickedly at the floor, but says nothing.

“Naughty thing,” he says.

Without warning, he brings his hand down against her bare flesh. It’s not a hard blow, just enough for a slight pang of pain. But the surprise of it makes her gasp.

“You’re a liar, Jude,” Cardan says, rubbing slow circles with his palm for a moment, letting her adjust to the new sensation.

She feels his hand disappear again, and braces herself. When he slaps her the second time, it’s harder, a bright shock against her skin. The sound echoes off the Royal Chamber walls.

Jude bites her lip.

The combination of sharp pain followed by Cardan’s cool, soothing ministrations is disconcerting. She shouldn’t like this as much as she does. This pain, this yielding. Everything about it goes against her very instincts. Yet, Jude grows more desperate still.

Suddenly, Cardan delivers three consecutive strokes, hard and fast.

“A dirty.” Slap. “Mortal.” Thwap. “Liar.” Smack.

Then, he swipes two wicked fingers up the length of her heat.

Jude moans, feeling herself pulse at the unexpected sensitivity. Her hips rock back of their own volition, chasing the friction she craves.

Cardan clicks his tongue at that. “I told you to be still,” he reminds her. “Do not test my patience, sweet villain.”

Jude’s fists ball up in front of her, pulling against their binds. In her head, she slings a slew of curses at him.

He is rock hard and throbbing, pressed firmly against her hip. It is a cruel kind of torture to feel his arousal and be without the power to sate it.

She wants nothing more than to be able to touch him, to clamber up his torso and peel him out of his clothes, to feel him hot against her skin, to make him tremble under her touch.

“I’ll be still,” she gasps instead. “Please. I’ll be still.”

Cardan says nothing, only resumes his soothing circles over the rawness of her backside. After a moment, he slaps her rapidly, once on her ass and once more against her swollen folds.

Jude yelps, the contact sending a shudder through her.

The effort it takes to remain unmoving is immense. Her breath is ragged in her chest. She is positively aching, and entirely unsure when or even if Cardan will give her what she desires.

“What are you?”

“A liar,” Jude chokes out.

Cardan brings his hand down hard again, and there’s a sharp spark of commingled pleasure and pain that swells in her.

“Louder.”

“I’m a liar,” she nearly shouts.

He strikes her cunt twice more. “Wrong. Try again.”

“I’m a liar!” She wails into the carpet. “A dirty, mortal liar!”

Jude is on the verge of tears now. She has experienced pain far greater than this before, but none which has held her in such agonised suspense. Such terrible denial.

The flesh of her ass is raw as roses, dripping with the evidence of her arousal between her thighs. She feels the heated prickle of shame flood her face, and yet, she remains still, gaze glued to the floor.

“Look at you,” Cardan says, wonderment in his voice. “You are breathtaking.”

He runs a slender finger up her slit before dipping down between her folds. His finger pumps and curls inside her, feeling her inner walls. The feeling is so delectable that Jude must stop herself from arching into his touch.

Cardan hums, delighted. “You’re drenched, wife,” he says, withdrawing his hand.

A frenzied heat surges through her at the loss of contact. Jude can only manage a sobbed, “Cardan.”

Relief is a balm like no other as her husband shrugs out of his shirt and positions himself behind her, spreading her legs with his own. The sound of his zipper sets her squirming.

When he finally, miraculously, slides into her, he does so in one smooth stroke, until he is buried deep, to the hilt.

Cardan hisses as he bottoms out. But, to Jude’s dismay, he does not move. Just stays there, sheathed in her completely, savouring the feeling of her warmth around him.

Jude is keening, the soft sounds muffled by the carpet as she tries her very best not to writhe against him. Because gods, does she need that ambrosial ache. Starting in her belly and lapping up her spine until every inch of her is flooded.

“Cardan,” she grits out, fingernails digging into the rug.

“Yes, my darling god?” he says, as if he doesn’t know what could possibly be wrong. As if he doesn’t know what torments her so.

Jude swallows. This terrible anticipation makes her feel like live wires twist frenetic under her skin. She hates it.

“Cardan. Please.”

“Please, what, dear Jude?”

“Move!” Her voice is taut in her throat from all of this waiting and wanting and wondering. If Jude were not held at his mercy, she would have pinned him to the floor by now.

A sudden chill sinks in her stomach before she knows exactly why. Then, Cardan has a fistful of her hair at the nape of her neck, yanking it so that she arches further into him.

He leans down over her, making her gasp. This angle is treacherously deep.

“Unfortunately,” Cardan growls low in her ear. “I don’t take commands from lying mortals.”

Jude is perplexed by the desire his words stir up. It licks her to the quick, going against everything she thought she knew about herself.

But the fact that remains is this: Jude craves the force of his arms, the moreish knowledge of his desire, his own unmooring. It is a particular tincture of power which only Cardan can give her. And for that, she must surrender.

Abruptly, he releases her hair and in within the span of a few breaths, strikes her across the ass four times.

The hits come in rapid succession, with much the same vigor as before. Only these are more intense. Her eyes snap open.

Jude, now filled to the brim with her husband’s cock, feels every slap of his palm against her flesh as if they were jolts of electricity shooting straight through her core. They leave her nerves jangled.

She cries out, clenching around Cardan’s length as each blow lands. A low rumbling sound goes through him.

“You feel,” he rasps, voice frayed from restraint, “Utterly divine, my love.”

Jude moans but is unable to form a response. For all the world, she cannot think past the moony haze of her mind, nor the heavenly pressure in her belly. After a moment, she registers the slip of Cardan’s tail coming to wrap gently around her thigh. It is both a reassurance and a question.

All Jude can think to say, the only thing to pass from her lips is, “I love you.”

With that, Cardan is moving.

The first few strokes are achingly slow, dragging all the way out before plunging back in. They strike a match within her.

Soon, Cardan is building a rhythm, thrusts picking up speed. Jude’s pulse races in tandem. That heat in her core clambouring for purchase as she’s driven again and again into the floor.

Jude thinks about the burns her knees will have tomorrow, from this carpet, and a thrill runs through her.

She can hear Cardan’s labored breathing behind her, his little gasps and groans that make her toes curl. He is deliciously hers. The thought makes her tremble in her own delight.

The slapping sounds their joining makes drive her wild. Before she knows it, she can feel the steady rise of her release. Despite her better judgement, Jude cannot help but meet him thrust for thrust.

Cardan seems too far gone to notice his wife’s efforts. He grips her hips as he pounds into her, relentless.

But when Jude turns her head to look at him, he is somewhere else. And that simply will not do. No, Jude would have him here and now, in this moment.

She slows her pace. She wishes she could reach back and pull him to the present with her touch alone. But as her hands are bound, she cannot.

“Cardan,” Jude croons.

At the sound of her voice, Cardan’s eyes snap to hers. He blinks for a moment. Then, he’s slowing his rhythm, too.

“Oh, Jude,” he soughs, scooping her up into his arms so that they are both upright and kneeling, Jude straddling his lap. She leans back against his chest. “My sweet Jude.”

His hand goes to her clit, fingers working slow circles. The added stimulation brings forth plumous mewls from Jude. She rolls her hips in time with his ministrations, feeling the novelty of this angle.

It is the stuff of gods, what they are doing.

“Tell me again,” Cardan murmurs gruffly in her ear.

Jude knows precisely what he means by this. “I love you,” she says, swirling herself over him. He thrums into her neck, nips at her earlobes. His hips begin to buck of their own accord, rutting up to meet the tidal wave of her movements.

Over and over, she tells him. “I love you. I love you. I love you.” His mouth covers hers in a searing kiss. “I love you so much that sometimes I can hardly think of anything else.”

“Gods above,” Cardan groans and, splaying his free hand on her belly, he pushes them forward once more. He’s pounding into her, fingers flying in circles over her clit until she is all sensation. Until she is screaming.

Jude is being cleaved apart. She is trembling on high. Just as it seems her wave of pleasure will rise and rise forever, finally, it breaks.

Jude cries out her release, a jumble of “I love you’s” and Cardan’s name, echoing around the Royal Chambers as she writhes beneath him.

And with that, Cardan tips over the edge, too. With a final slam, he spills into her, shouting a string of words. Her name. Only her name. Over and over against the back of her neck like a curse as he comes.

Jude is still pulsing, shaking in the aftermath when Cardan loops his arms around her waist. He brings them both to rest on their sides, not caring at all that they are on the floor. Cardan tucks Jude into his chest.

He pulls her wrists into his hands and begins unravelling the red ribbon that binds them. Jude, for her part, feels both heavy and as if she could float away on a fog.

“Jude?” Cardan’s voice sounds from behind her.

“Hmm?” She can barely muster the energy open her lids.

“Are you aware how much I love you?”

“ ‘Course I am,” she mumbles.

Cardan looses a soft chuckle. “Liar.”

Jude’s grin is so wide, she’s sure all of Elfhame can see it.

☽☽☽☽☽

AN: So this was… much softer than I intended 😅 but I really hope you enjoyed it! I had so much fun writing this one. This is just the first of a few works I’m putting out this week for Jurdan Smut Week, so look out for those.

As always, if you have any kind comments, please do share them with me. I’m terrible at responding in a timely fashion, but I will respond to every single one. They absolutely make my day and ultimately encourage me to keep writing.

If you liked this, and would like to be added to my tag list, let me know!

Back to the forest now!

-Em 🖤💫

Tag List: @velarhysismine @knifewifejude @the-mithridatism-of-jude-duarte @clockworkgraystairs @thesirenwashere @courtofjurdan @nightbringer @aelin-queen-of-terrasen @whocares-idont @babycardan @sweetlyvillainous @aesthetics-11 @storiesandschemes @jurdanhell @poeticbrownmermaid @thechainofiron @random-llama-socks @villanellevi @lady-thea-of-narnia @b00kworm @flowersinvegas @vanessa172003 @cardanstrickytail @queen-of-glass @judiecardan @words-of-the-wise @scarznstars @charincharge @fizziefaerie @fateandluminary @tessas-herondales @styles-taylor @jyoti96 @losssssstttttt @transbordeamento @katsemkitgostadetog @gloriouspalacebakerylawyer @woodsbeyond1 @hizqueen4life @highqueenjudeduarte @m-like-magic @dorkzrul @whataboutmyfries @livelovereading123 @queenofgreenbriar @ireallyshouldsleeprn @lifeminuspickles @df3ndyr @christalpaez @aknymph @iammissstark @st00pid231 @disco-tits1 @cardanslittletail @katexrenee @fandomfanatic987 @justtryintolivemybestlife @hopefullyanauthor @junipersuns @curlyredqueen06 @emmabookworm08 @thebookish-fangirl

Title Inspo: Holy by King Princess

Liked this? Try: King | Fine Line

831 notes · View notes

chibimyumi · 3 years

Note

Hi, as you are Sebastian's character expert I was wondering how do you interpret two of his reactions I personally am unable to figure out. I'm talking about his reaction in Westonarc, when after chasing principle he managed to grab only his clothes and in music-hall arc when he gets rejected by the crowd.

Dear Anon,

Thank you for your flattering words! You humble me! (/ω＼) Aawww, okay, enough blushing, let’s get down to business. How do I interpret the moments you mentioned?

Sebastian at Weston College

In chapters 78 Sebastian went after the principal, but he quickly noticed that the principal was quite slippery a prey. Sebas seemingly found it quite interesting however, and unsurprisingly so. Sebas doesn’t like easy prey, after all.

After what Sebas assumed was just “good luck” on the principal’s part in escaping, Sebas decided to go without reserve. And we all know how powerful Sebas can be when without reserve. And yet...the principal escaped!

We have to keep in mind that at that point in the story the demon had no idea yet that the principal was the one and only foe who managed to actually beat him, ever! Perhaps Sebas assumed the principal was human, and no matter how fast a human is, their speed is very unlikely to surpass Sebas.

For illustration’s sake, let’s say Sebas’ demon speed is our human speed, and humans to Sebas in turn are snail equivalent. When you go catch a snail (if you’re not grossed out) you reasonably expect it be easy. But then you reach out your hand, you even manage to touch the snail, and then suddenly it’s gone!?

Imagine being outran by what you first assumed is a snail. So the face Sebas pulled is basically just that: “how the f*ck did a snail escape me...!?”

Then very quickly Sebas started to suspect the identity of his “snail”, and we can also clearly see how worry entirely took over the confident smile he previously wore.

In chapter 82 when this snail indeed turned out to be the Giant Killer Hornet, unlike his master Sebas was not surprised at all.

In short, Sebastian’s reaction to catching the principal’s clothes was utter surprise turning into the realisation that his worst nightmare might be a waking nightmare.

Sebastian at Music Hall

Now your second question. In chapter 111 Blavat revealed that he knows Sebas is not human. Both Sebas and his master are very shocked of course, but Sebas carefully presents a calm attitude without becoming defensive. "NOTHING to be defensive about, what are you talking about!? Haha...💧”

Rather than denying or confirming anything, Sebas tries to test the waters first. Blavat however gives Sebas the equivalent of: “because I said so,” and added a shit load of fancy, lofty words as a way to divert attention away from his glaring argumentation fallacy. It is the equivalent of hiding bullshit behind flowers and say it’s a legit bouquet.

Sebas was clearly unimpressed, as surely only total idiots would take Blavat’s words seriously... right!?!?!?

Almost immediately however, the entire crowd ate Blavat’s bullshit right up. Humans uncritically eating bullshit is nothing new to Sebas, but this time the bullshit just happens to be about a truth Sebas cannot afford to get exposed.

Sebas understood immediately that everyone had already decided Blavat is always right, even if he were to declare fire to be wet. So what could Sebas possibly do still? He can’t go along with Blavat, but he couldn’t defend himself either, because the crowd was already beyond reason. Going into defense would only draw more unnecessary attention to himself, after all.

At that moment the only viable option seemed to be retreat, but that is not beneficial to his master’s investigation. Though retreat is not ideal, it is better than any alternative. Having to accept that retreat is your only option is an incredibly frustrating thing, and that can logically explain Sebastian’s troubled expression.

I think Sebastian’s troubled expression is a mix of frustration that Blavat put a spoke in his wheel, concern that somehow someone knows he is not human, and perhaps pity that these humans are so far gone.

And indeed, when Blavat ordered his men to take the “trash collapsar” out, Sebas didn’t protest for a second, nor did the young master. They both understood that under the circumstances, retreat was their only way forward however frustrating it may be.

Well, that is how I personally read these reactions, but this is not an answer set in stone of course. But at least I hope it helped give something to grasp onto!

BONUS! Music Hall taking the Trash™ out! He is Nuclear Waste, after all.

#Sebastian Michaelis #Blavat #Undertaker #Weston #Music Hall #Blavat Sky #Take the Trash out!#I Love this trash demon so much

95 notes · View notes

shashawip · 3 years

Text

Mia Asking Jason About His Feelings For Roy While Cooking

Summary:

Mia asking Jason about his feelings for Roy while cooking, and Jason didn’t deny it.

Notes:

English isn’t my native spoken language so there can be grammatical errors.

This snippet is from an originally planned fiction revolving around Roy, Jason and Mia with Mia being the witness of Royjay’s developing relationship. I may never find a chance to finish their story so I will just post moments that I enjoyed writing while picturing their world. Hope you enjoy.

Published on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33110860

——

It wasn’t Mia's turn to cook today, but not like she minded it and all. She’s in a good mood lately given how well the day job has turned out, and the camaraderie she’s developed with the colleagues at work.

To be frank, the two other housemates’ cooking skills just weren’t satisfying. Jason was alright, if he really paid attention and invested his time to cook. Same cannot be said for Roy, however, who was an entirely different story. The only edibles on his menu might just be that ham and cheese sandwich he seemed to be barely able to assemble.

Mia hummed in joy while she poured her lasagna sauce into a rectangular Le Creuset, which had already been layered with some pre-made lasagna sheets. She raised her eyes to look at Roy who’s sitting across the kitchen island, while still preserving her attention down at the stoneware.

“I never knew you’d be so interested in a wooden door before.” Mia chuckled.

Roy seemed to be dragged out of his lost thoughts and back to the world by her voice, quickly moving away his glaze, looking a little embarrassed. He’d been fixed to the stool he’s sitting on and stared at Jason’s bedroom door with his head rested in his elbow in the same position for quite a while, even the oven had been pre-heated.

Mia continued to work on layering sheets and pouring the mixture from the saucepan, the warm steam spreading the fresh smell of tomato, garlic, slightly caramelized pork and veal bolognese along with other goodness that’s been well combined into the open air kitchen. She kept her head down while going on, “Figured what’s getting into your head. Now that James and I are dating, Jason seems like about to start one himself, you’d be thinking of finding someone to hang out with too?”

Roy admitted almost immediately, let go of an unnoticeable sigh for Mia seemed to not be aware what’s really going on in his mind. “Didn’t you always mention that girl… the one on that team you and Dick were on back then, was it Danielle?” “Donna.” “Donna. Anyway. I don’t know, maybe you can try contacting her again?” Roy looked a little confused by her suggestion. “Donna… she’s a partner and a good friend that’s all. Also I haven’t caught up with the Titans for quite some time.” “But there is always a chance out there somewhere, right?”

By now Roy seemed to have lost interest in this topic, and just shook his head towards the room that Jason was in, and steered the conversation back to what’s happening in there. “You can’t know… that girl, she came here and was after Jason…” Mia knew what he’s going on and about, “If you ask me, well, from a female perspective, what she’s after from Jason could not have been any more obvious.”

Just a little less than half an hour ago, a silver white long haired girl walked in from the front door of their apartment without giving any heads up, she promptly glanced over the room, including Roy who was laying on his back in the couch at the time, and Mia who’s busy preparing their dinner behind the counter. She briefly studied the situation, confirmed with the cook which bedroom was Jason’s, then dashed and disappeared into that room with a not-so-gentle bang as she closed the door, leaving Roy and Mia completely dazzled and curious.

Roy exchanged looks with Mia as he got up. He thought that girl looked familiar before he remembered that he, or rather, him and Jason had met her on the plane from Gotham back to Star City. She was sitting across the aisle, had started to strike a conversation with Jason around halfway of the flight. Roy hadn’t paid them too much attention as he curled up comfortably in his window seat and napped almost the entire time. When their plane had arrived and the seatbelt signs turned green, and Jason stood up to reach their backpack from the overhead bin, Roy saw the girl had slipped a thin piece of paper into the back-pocket of his jeans.

Roy had never seen her again after they got back home, until just now. He bet that Jason had contacted her without him and Mia knowing, and for Christ’s sake, he’d exposed their secret headquarters - an apartment on Winnick St that the three of them would scramble each month to come up with the rent for - to a stranger that hadn’t gone through their little gang’s trust test.

Mia saw him shuffled around yet eyes glued to that door, so she ordered him to buy some more basil leaves from the store that apparently her topping sauce is now short of. Roy groaned before leaving the apartment, still managed to strike a last look at that door that the girl has vanished into.

Some time later, the girl has finally decided to stomp out of that room again, she glimpsed over Mia, without saying a word then bounced across the communal space before walking right out, seemingly assuming oneself to be one of, otherwise, the owner of the house.

When Jason emerged just a little later too, Mia then stared at the ceiling and started talking at loud to herself, “Gotta be impressed with all the soundproof works of these walls, you can’t even hear a thing that you’d expected from the other side.”

Jason said that he and Roslyn merely spoke while in there and nothing more had happened. He looked around and asked where Roy is. Mia told him that she requested him to go to the shop and get her some more basils. Jason pondered on that. Mia figured out he’s gauging whether he should go out too, “I thought he might want some air for himself seeing that both his housemates are romantically involved in a relationship.” Jason started to look confused.

Mia thought to herself, Mia Deardon, don’t you screw this one up. She made an effort to calm her tone of voice before speaking up again. “That girl and you, aren’t you a thing or about to be?” She probed in a slightly joking way.

“A thing?” Jason now looked even more puzzled, as if this image of presumed future has never come across his mind before, “I don’t recall anything remotely like that ever discussed in our conversation.”

Mia stopped what she’s doing and pointed a silicon spatula at him, which was still covered with warm tomato chunks, “Jason, when you let a girl walk into your room, you should be prepared to provide her the chance of a mutually respectful association that is what we called a relationship, instead of just fooling around and walk away like a jerk.” Though in this particular scenario, the female individual seemed to matched that perona more, Mia had no intention of pointing that out.

“I’ve not even had a clue how she found this place, I thought she’s just some upper manager of a business, not some sort of a detective.”

Mia squinted her eyes, clearly not buying, “You know, usually a girl found out a guy’s address through a text message or a phone call.”

“Trust me, Mia, I’ve never even asked for her number.” Jason wiped his forehead and started to feel the angst up his gut, but he tried hard to not let it unleash upon Mia. “Do we have enough ingredients for tonight?” He indicated the kitchen bench filled with mixing bowls and food scraps with a nod. Mia gave it a thought, then answered, “We might have just run out of paprika, can you give Roy a ring and ask him to get a jar from the shop?”

“I’ll head down myself, don’t think he can hear the call right now.” Jason turned around to leave. Just when the door’s about to be opened, Mia called his name.

“Jason, do you love Roy?”

His hand on the doorknob came to a sudden halt. He paused for a second, “Why’d you say that?”

Mia took a deep breath, giving her best to not give away the fact that she’s rehearsed over and over what’s coming next. Instead of answering the question, she continued, “I’m not saying the kind of brotherhood you’d shared with Dick or your other partners from the cop shop, what I meant was something like Ollie and Dinah, like between me and James.”

Jason looked to be caught off guard with what she’s just said, and Mia for one was happy with how this whole situation had been going, as he at least didn’t just abruptly deny the question nor went on interrogating why the hell she’d stir up some shit like that. She heaved a sigh of relief, carefully thanking herself for the sharp observation and analysis she’d secretly inducted on themselves.

Jason looked at her, without saying a word, seemed to be still waiting for her to go on. So she did. “Roy is the kind of person that, how should I put this, would rather let his feelings sink than swim if you don’t show anything to him first. Probably why he and Ollie never saw each other eye to eye when they came across.” Jason nodded in agreement. “If he thinks that the other person doesn’t share a mutual feeling, I bet you he’d take it to his grave than ever speaking up about it.” This actually has contradicted to Roy’s impression on him, as he always saw the guy as carefree and weren’t shy about showing his affections towards the others, but Jason wasn’t going to oppose otherwise and just let Mia kept on.

“He had a crush on a girl in that crime fighting group he was in before, always claimed that he wasn’t good enough for her, so the girl never found out his feeling for her in the end.” Mia fixed her eyes on him, her spatula had now dropped to the bench surface as she leaned against the edge with both of her arms, looking at him demurely, “He’s recently acting more and more like that again. I don’t know about you, but here’s what I thought, if that other person this time at least showed him some sort of hints, maybe he wouldn’t have too many regretful undone deeds to carry with him to his tomb after all.”

Jason lowered his head and thought on that for a moment, his hand already loosen from the doorknob and he just noticed how his palm had been sweating all this long. He turned around to face Mia behind the island, who’d clearly done speaking and was waiting patiently for a response. Jason found her gaze again as he meticulously raised his eyes, “And you think this person… is… me?”

Mia grinned, “We both know that his current social life, or rather, his only life is devoted on bringing down that Merlin’s evil little scheme, which the whole operation comprises only two people, and he’s surprisingly one of them.” She could not have been clearer than that who the other person she’s referring to.

Jason couldn’t bring himself to let out of a word. There was too much to be said, too many questions bursting in his chest. When did Mia start to notice Roy’s altered behaviours as she described? How did she work out the confidence to ask him about it and not even worry that she might’ve been wrong? Did Roy ask her to feel him out, or was her perception of Roy’s feeling for him even legit?

“Jason, hello, someone in there?” His thought had been interrupted with her teases as he drown, “So let me ask again, Jason, do you love Roy? The kind of love like between Ollie and Dinah?”

The former Robin had let out a deep breath before cracking her a smile, “I’m gonna go get us some more paprika from the shop.” Then he opened the door and left the apartment.

None of the three housemates had ever demanded paprika when they had lasagna night, Jason knew better than that, and he secretly thanked Mia a thousand times as he sprinted downstairs.

——

End of snippet

End notes:

I draw Royjay fan arts from time to time, if you liked this story you’re welcome to also check them out on my Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/shashawip

#royjay #roy harper #jason todd #Mia dearden #dccomics #red hood and arsenal #red hood and the outlaws #arrowfam #team arrow #speedy #red hood #arsenal #green arrow #jayroy

29 notes · View notes

perahn · 3 years

Note

Nettle - Khem

From the flower prompt: Nettle = Cruelty

“The skull’s jawbone is stitched in place with a rusted chain,” Khem says, her hands held respectfully still and exposed to Mistress Kharzura’s scrutiny. “One eyesocket is filled with water so black it swallows all reflections, and so deep it cannot ripple. Its breath is a foul-smelling, multi-coloured fog, and what that fog touches, changes. The skull laughs, and I fall into the empty eyesocket. The recurring are there, presences that become the walls of a maze. It takes hours to follow the darkness to the centre. I know something huge and malevolent watches as I step forward. It laughs when I take the – the -”

Mistress Kharzura sighs as Khem stammers to a halt. “After seventeen iterations of this dream, you still fail at the centre?”

“Yes, mistress,” Khem says, offering no pointless excuse. “Although I still believe it may be eigh-”

“No,” the Red Wizard cuts her off, certain and impatient. “There have been no confirmed sightings of ineffable horrors since the fall of the Netherese; the creatures are probably extinct, unlinked to this skull, and – as we agreed at the time – almost certainly represented Khaseth’s attempt to use your intestines for his anthropomancy. You have not dreamed them since his death, have you?”

“No, mistress.” There has been little time to establish a cessation – less than a month since she regained consciousness chained and blindfolded, to the sound of knife on whetstone, since that one desperate chance to survive granted by Khaseth’s desire to make her suffer instead of just killing her – but Mistress Kharzura knows that as well as Khem does, and Khem will not argue the point.

“Exactly,” Mistress Kharzura says, studying the papers in front of her without looking up. It still recalls their first meeting, Khem thinks. Almost twenty years have passed since then, fifteen as a student, nearly five as one of Mistress Kharzura’s apprentices. Khem is taller, more accomplished, and she is much more familiar with her mentor since they have been able to work openly together, but Mistress Kharzura’s authority is as absolute and effortlessly wielded as ever. It will serve her well, when she becomes Headmistress.

A time that will come sooner if Khem could only be useful, if she could get this right -

“I don’t know what it was,” Khem says quietly. She will not attempt to disguise her failure, but she will not hide this, either. “But this time it… it felt like power. Something that was mine to claim and wield, if I dared. If I was strong enough.”

Mistress Kharzura looks up suddenly at that. Her eyes, the irises barely lighter than the pupils, search Khem’s. “An artefact? A spell?”

“More like…” How to explain the weight of a dream? The challenge and the solidity of it, the bright core of power? “Like…” Suddenly she has it. “When I was eleven and trying to kill Se-atma without attracting the attention of those of my clique who were personally loyal to him, and I found suggestion in the library. I knew it would take considerable work to learn it, and the attempt might destroy me – but if I could master it, its potential was nearly limitless. It could free me of him, but it could do… well, almost anything else.”

Mistress Kharzura smiles, and Khem stares. It is not just her mistress’s amusement, nor her satisfaction that her apprentice has explained a concept that previously eluded her, nor even the familiar Red Wizard lust at the idea of power to be seized. “Indeed, there’s nothing quite like suggestion. Well -”

There is ice in Khem’s throat, sharp and coldly burning. She swallows, again and again, but it does not melt or dislodge, even when Mistress Kharzura dismisses her to the day’s research. She stares through her text on Karsus and sees only Mistress Kharzura’s smile, hears only her voice.

Suggestion. Khem has been sure for years that Mistress Kharzura had engineered Pteptah’s elimination attempt. They had only been eight at the time: there was no way Pteptah could have held his mind against a senior instructor and the whisper of her will. Find Khemuret alone, Mistress Kharzura might have suggested. Khem isn’t sure, even now… did she tell him to fail, weighting Khem with the notoriety that followed the first of their year to kill? Or was he unfettered, the test of Khem’s skills and desire to survive? The test that determined whether she was worth Mistress Kharzura’s time?

There’s no point asking Mistress Kharzura, of course. The need to know burns in Khem like a furnace, constant, fuelled by any question or unsolved mystery, but her mistress never does answer things she thinks Khem should work out herself. And Pteptah… Khem knows enough. She doesn’t need confirmation of the central truth of it, and the details are not the ice in her throat.

There was another student once. Not so much older than Pteptah, a memory burnt as deeply, a scar more livid than Se-atma’s branded handprint. Khem had enemies, she knew that, but Khaizri had not been one of them any more than Pteptah had, and she had -

- she had -

Khem shakes her head, denies the ice, refuses the memory, banishes a smile and a voice. If she does not look at the shadows, they cannot swallow her.

#khemuret xul #alternative ethics #bettydice #whooof it has been so long #and this is rough as guts #but it still feels good to write again

10 notes · View notes

turtle-paced · 4 years

Text

Revisiting Chapters: Brienne VIII, AFFC

This post is also available on my wordpress.

The story so far…

Having done what a true knight does and saved the children at the Inn, a wounded Brienne is taken to receive her just reward. The catch being it’s Lady Stoneheart’s idea of just.

Fever Dreams

The chapter starts with Brienne incapacitated. Aside from the fact that someone’s tied her up (so tightly that it cuts into her wrists, we find out later) and slung her across a horse, she’s very much not well. She’s in a lot of pain and she doesn’t understand what’s going on. Pod’s somewhere in the background.

Cue successions of horrible dreams, swapping back and forth with reality. Brienne revisits the bear pit, calling out for Jaime, and then for a maester. She dreams of Renly’s murder and Vargo Hoat with an infected ear. She replays the fight at the Whispers and loses, because she cannot fight without the magic sword Jaime gave her.

The reader understands as Brienne does not at this point that what’s going on around Brienne is very, very bad for her. When Brienne mistakes a girl who speaks to her for Sansa, a man nearby laughs. Some time afterwards, she’s moved and given medicine. The girl administering said medicine gives us a rundown of Brienne’s injuries. Aside from the nasty wound on her face from Biter’s bites, she’s got a broken arm and some cracked ribs.

Brienne’s with it long enough to hear the confirmation that yes, Gendry killed Biter at the end of the previous chapter. The girl treating her is definitely not Sansa Stark, though. Instead, she appears to be the innkeeper, now revealed to be Jeyne Heddle (and her sister, back at the inn, is Willow Heddle). Her status as a prisoner is confirmed by a dark-haired man Brienne keeps mistaking for Renly (it’s Gendry). She’s being taken to Lady Stoneheart.

“M’lady means to make you answer for your crimes.”

Ominous! Brienne is quite sensibly afraid. She asks after Pod and Ser Hyle, though she also thinks that Septon Meribald and his dog are there. That’s about the end of that bout with lucidity. Next up, she’s taken across a river. No Gendry, he’s gone back to the Inn to protect the children. A man in a yellow cloak and wearing the Hound’s helm threatens to kill Brienne.

Finally, Brienne dreams of her encounter with Ronnet Connington. Her father promises to bring her a rose, but Brienne needs a sword. She bites her own tongue off in her nervousness, spits it out to lie next to the useless rose, and as her dream suitor expresses his digust with her, Ronnet turns to Jaime.

The overarching themes of Brienne’s dreams here are sex and romance, violence, and failure. Each of Brienne’s dreams ends with her failing in some way - to win a fight, to protect Renly, to even speak. In several of her dreams, she’s missing her sword and wants it back. This particular bit I find particularly telling:

“He will bring a rose for you,” her father promised her, but a rose was no good, a rose could not keep her safe. It was a sword she wanted. Oathkeeper. I have to find the girl. I have to find his honour.

While it’s a sweet notion, it also makes me sad. The only person who can find Jaime’s honour is Jaime. It also shows us how Brienne has come to see her quest - not just for Catelyn, but for Jaime as well.It’s not hard to see how the recent events of Brienne’s life have resulted in this traumatic mishmash of images. I don’t think they’re prophetic in any way, just reflecting her own rather poor state of mind. She feels like she’s failed, and she feels helpless.

The Broken Brotherhood

The first sign that this is, for sure, the Brotherhood Without Banners again is the presence of this man:

One of the shadow men shoved the girl aside. He was clad in rusted rings and a studded belt. At his hip hung longsword and dirk. A yellow greatcoat was plastered to his shoulders, sodden and filthy. From his shoulders rose a steel dog’s head, its teeth bared in a snarl.

Lem Lemoncloak. Compare to his first good description in Arya II, ASoS, where his armour is steel but not rusty and his cloak is only worn and stained instead of absolutely filthy.

The fact that the Brotherhood Without Banners has been taken over by undead Catelyn Stark was the subject of the epilogue of ASoS. As GRRM does with the epilogues, though, that was a one-off PoV character who doesn’t survive his experience with perspective voice. It’s a reveal for the readers. This is the internal reveal to our surviving and continuing PoV characters. Not the big reveal yet. But part of it.

Lem says that they’ll be hanging Brienne, to which she protests that she should have been covered by guest right, back at the inn.

“Guest right don’t mean so much as it used to,” said the girl. “Not since m’lady came back from the wedding. Some o’ them swinging down by the river figured they was guests too.”

This is not the same band that was doing their best to protect the peasants of the Riverlands. This tells us that nothing is sacred in how this new Brotherhood pursues their revenge against the Freys and Lannisters. Brienne, being ill, conks out again and doesn’t wake up for a while.

She wakes up again in what’s basically a grave.

The air was cold and heavy, and smelled of earth and worms and mold. She was lying on a pallet beneath a mound of sheepskins, with rock above her head and roots poking through the walls. The only light came from a tallow candle, smoking in a pool of melted wax.

And if that wasn’t making the point enough:

The flickering light cast queer shadows. Shadows of the slain, she thought, dancing all about me, hiding when I turn to look at them. Everywhere she saw holes and cracks and crevices, but there was no way to know which passages led out, which would take her deeper into the cave, and which went nowhere. All were black as pitch.

Brienne’s not alone down here; there’s an “old grey man” in rags as well. He helpfully flags for Brienne that their current location is representative of the Brotherhood’s moral slide. The man checks Brienne’s fever (broken) and tells her the status of her face (badly scarred, once it heals). He was not the one who treated Brienne, though. That was the girl from earlier, Jeyne.

Brienne asks why she received treatment if they’re just planning to hang her. He tells her that it was Lem’s screw-up that made the fight at the inn necessary - Lem was baited into charging off after the Bloody Mummers, but the man considers that Lem should have known better. Then we get to the key question: who are these people?

“We were king’s men when we began,” the man told her, “but king’s men must have a king, and we have none. We were brothers too, but now our brotherhood is broken. I do not know who we are, if truth be told, nor where we might be going. I only know the road is dark. The fires have not shown me what lies at its end.”

I know where it ends. I have seen the corpses in the trees.

Then it clicks for Brienne. This is the Brotherhood Without Banners, and she’s speaking to Thoros of Myr. Who clearly has his doubts again. Beric Dondarrion is dead. The Brotherhood has a new leader, who Thoros describes as “grimmer”. He goes to get her some food.As in her dreams before, Brienne finds herself looking for a weapon. She finds none.

When Thoros returns, he does so with some pretty lousy food. No milk, no honey, which is absolutely representative of the stores of human kindness on offer. Thoros says so himself, when Brienne asks for Pod to receive pity. If kindness is not available, what about justice?

“Justice.” Thoros smiled wanly. “I remember justice. It had a pleasant taste. […] We were king’s men, knights, and heroes…but some knights are dark and full of terror, my lady. War makes monsters of us all.”

Ah, wordplay! Thoros sees how the cause of the Brotherhood has turned from justice to revenge, and frankly he preferred the justice. This moment here with Thoros is for the reader to reconcile the somewhat morally ambiguous band of Merry Men who tried to look after Arya, tried to give to the poor, and try to conduct trials with the people who’ve been hanging and hanging and hanging people throughout the Riverlands.

That’s when Thoros hears company arriving. Brienne half remembers them from her interludes of lucidity. Once again Lem Lemoncloak is the most noticeable figure. He took the Hound’s helm from Rorge’s corpse. Lem does not deny it when Brienne identifies him as “the Hound”. By taking up the helm, Lem becomes the man. With consequences:

“There is nothing good about that helm, nor the men who wore it,” said the red priest. “Sandor Clegane was a man in torment, and Rorge a beast in human skin.”

“I’m not them.”

“Then why show the world their face?”

Fear, basically. But literally, though, there are those in the Brotherhood who are becoming the evil they fought. Who’s going to be able to tell Lem Lemoncloak apart from the previous men who wore the Hound’s helm? Who’s going to be able to tell the Brotherhood Without Banners from the other groups terrorising the Riverlands, now that they’re not a brotherhood and they’re all out of kindness and justice?

Heart of Stone

Once Brienne is brought to the main cavern (to answer for what she’s done, leaving her rather confused as to what it is she’s supposed to have done), she gets her first look at Lady Stoneheart, recently returned from Fairmarket.

A trestle table had been set up across the cave, in a clef in the rock. Behind it sat a woman all in grey, cloaked and hooded. In her hands was a crown, a bronze circlet ringed by iron swords. She was studying it, her fingers stroking the blades as if to test their sharpness. Her eyes glimmered under her hood.

The readers know several things that Brienne does not, in this moment. The obvious one, that this is undead Catelyn. Then there’s the less obvious. This crown was last mentioned back in Jaime VI, in the possession of Ryman Frey (in point of fact, Jaime told Ryman that Ryman shouldn’t take the crown when he left the camp). Sure enough, in Jaime VII, we’ll learn that Stoneheart’s men ambushed Ryman Frey and company two leagues out of Fairmarket. This is Robb’s crown that Lady Stoneheart now has.

The accusations against Brienne are quickly made clear. Association with and loyalty to the Lannisters. The evidence for this? She was calling out for Jaime in her fevered state. Not great evidence. But then they bring out Oathkeeper. Valyrian steel. Though it’s noted that Lady Stoneheart is focusing only on the lion pommel. Plus the letter Jaime gave her, signed by Tommen, claiming that Brienne is about his business. Better evidence.

All Brienne has to counter that is the truth. Jaime Lannister, famously dishonourable, gave Brienne a Valyrian steel sword and sent her to find Sansa Stark to protect her. Actually protect her, not the ‘move her to Cersei’s dungeons pending trial’ protection. The problem is…

“Are we supposed to believe the Lannisters are handing out gold and ruby swords to foes? That the Kingslayer meant for you to hide [Sansa] from his own twin? I suppose the paper with the boy king’s seal was just in case you needed to wipe your arse.”

It’s frankly unbelieveable. Unbelieveable to anyone who wasn’t in Jaime’s PoV for the duration of ASoS. To make matters worse, Pod and Hyle are brought forth too, described as “the Imp’s own squire” and “one of Randyll Bloody Tarly’s bloody household knights” respectively. Brienne can see the way this is going and pleads for them to be left out of it.

At last Lady Stoneheart speaks. Not well. She needs a young northman (Harwin, not that Brienne knows his name) to translate her words. She asks the name of Brienne’s sword.

“Oathkeeper,” Brienne answered.

The woman in grey hissed through her fingers. Her eyes were two red pits burning in the shadows. She spoke again.

“No, she says. Call it Oathbreaker, she says. It was made for treachery and murder. She names it False Friend. Like you.”

Again, the reader knows something that Brienne does not. Some of the last words Catelyn Stark heard in life were Jaime Lannister sends his regards. What this looks like to Lady Stoneheart is that Jaime had a hand in arranging the Red Wedding, then bribed Brienne to go after Sansa as well.

In the meantime, Brienne is confused about why Lady Stoneheart is making such a personal accusation, and this at last prompts the reveal.

“Lady Catelyn?” Tears filled her eyes. “They said…they said that you were dead.”

“She is,” said Thoros of Myr. “The Freys slashed her throat from ear to ear. When we found her by the river she was three days dead. Harwin begged me to give her the kiss of life, but it had been too long. I would not do it, so Lord Beric put his lips to hers, and the flame of life passed from him to her. And…she rose. May the Lord of Light protect us. She rose.”

So the classic zombie look, really, but a zombie retaining Catelyn’s last traumatic memories and plenty of will. Brienne’s narration refers to her as “the thing that had been Catelyn Stark.” As Brienne is absolutely adamant that she never broke faith with Catelyn, Lady Stoneheart demands she prove it.

“What does she want of me?”

“She wants her son alive, or the men who killed him dead,” said the big man. “She wants to feed the crows, like they did at the Red Wedding. Freys and Boltons, aye. We’ll give her those, as many as she likes. What she asks from you is Jaime Lannister.”

Note the simplicity of this agenda. Lady Stoneheart wants the one impossible thing - her murdered son, not to have been murdered. Failing that, the next best thing is lots and lots of dead people. She wants to do the same thing to the Freys as the Freys did to her. There’s no suggestion of retaking land, or dealing with administration and supply. She just wants everyone even tangentially involved with her son’s murder dead.

This is all very well and good if we’re talking about your Walder Freys (any one of several options) or your Roose Boltons, but now we see Lady Stoneheart lashing out at Brienne, and Pod, and Hyle. Brienne’s situation looks bad, but the reader knows that she’s right when she says Jaime’s not the man he was. Pod’s backstory as revealed in Brienne’s own chapters show his lack of options. Even Hyle, who’s undoubtedly an asshole, is clearly not responsible for Catelyn’s suffering. This is why Thoros was bemoaning the general lack of justice he was seeing around the place.

Lady Stoneheart then offers Brienne a choice. Her own life for Jaime’s. The sword or the noose. Brienne refuses to pick. So Lady Stoneheart orders Brienne hanged. Hyle and Pod too. Brienne tries to bargain for Pod’s life, using the same ‘sapphires’ line Jaime tried, but Lem (now referred to in narration as ‘the Hound’) tells her he wants his wife and daughter back, and starts the hanging. Brienne is focused on Pod. Just Pod.

The chapter finishes with Brienne screaming a single word.

Chapter Function

This chapter is our first proper look at Lady Stoneheart, who’s as tragic as she is terrifying. GRRM’s used Brienne’s PoV well to get both these things across. While Jaime’s storyline necessarily deals with the effects of Lady Stoneheart’s actions, it’s Brienne’s that makes you feel for her victims. It’s also Brienne’s storyline that makes the reader feel for Catelyn herself, who was wronged and murdered and brought back to more pain.

This is the true emotional climax of Brienne’s AFFC arc. Not the fight. The choice. We’ve seen Brienne decide good and honourable things all throughout her storyline, but here she’s put in a situation where there is no good and honourable decision. Take the sword to kill Jaime, betray the trust of a man who saved her life. And, though Lady Stoneheart doesn’t believe it, betray the mission Catelyn gave her. Take the noose, and Pod hangs with her.

Sometimes there’s no way to keep every vow. Brienne has the best of intentions. We’ve seen her good character. But there’s just no good solution to this problem. It’s the point Jaime made, way back when. Brienne’s vows are less important than doing what’s right, and allowing Pod to hang when she could prevent it isn’t right.

Now to see how she handles Jaime. The climax of this AFFC arc lets us know how things will be progressing in TWoW, because now we need to know how Brienne’s going to handle the choice, while also knowing that Lady Stoneheart won’t be backing down from hers. More trouble for the Riverlands is ahead.

Miscellany

Thoros notes that Long Jeyne Heddle treated Brienne as well as a maester could. I doubt she’s had much formal training. Which means that what Jeyne learned, she learned from experience. There’s a nasty thought.

It’s worth thinking twice about Lady Stoneheart and the crown. While Catelyn believes that Arya, Bran, and Rickon are all dead, she has no idea where or whether they were buried. She knows for sure that Robb is dead, but again, it’s not clear where or whether he was buried - given the desecration of his corpse, and what happened to Catelyn’s own body, it doesn’t seem likely that he received a respectful funeral. The fact that Sansa’s vanished without a trace is rather important to Brienne’s storyline. This crown is all Catelyn has left of her children.

Clothing Porn

In her final dream sequence, Brienne wears a silk brocade gown with blue and red quarters and decorated with golden suns and silver moons. Out of dream flashback, she’s wearing a brown woolen shift. Thoros wears the remains of an old robe, red faded out to pink and white.

Food Porn

Onion broth. Cold, greasy stew. Hard bread and harder cheese.

Next Three Chapters

Jon VII, ACoK - Jon IX, ADWD - The Princess in the Tower, AFFC

#ASoIaF #valyrianscrolls #revisiting chapters #cw: violence #a feast for crows #brienne of tarth #catelyn stark

82 notes · View notes

miminorenai · 4 years

Photo

Chapter 18

At the corner of the bar where cheerful voices fly around, two men are facing each other across the table.

— Dazai, and Charles.

Although they exchange glasses and smile at each other, the air is different as to call them ‘close friends’.

Dazai “No way, to think that Charles-kun would call out to me.”

Charles “It was just the right time. I would like to discuss something with Dazai.”

Dazai “......Aren’t you supposed to call me ‘Tsushima Shuuji’?”

Charles “Yeah, but you usually call yourself ‘Osamu Dazai’, the novelist, right?”

Dazai laughs and puts his hand on the chin, then looks at Charles with the eyes as if to test him.

Dazai “My background is being exposed, huh.”

Dazai “You appear to be Shakespeare-kun’s acquaintance, did the topic come out while you talked?”

Charles “Oh, so you’ve known we’re friends with Will.”

Charles “There’s nothing to hide then. Yep, Will told us various stuff.”

Charles “Regarding Will, Ōsama said — ‘We accepted to cooperate since our interests were aligned.’”

Dazai “Ōsama......?”

As doubt’s slightly shown on Dazai’s face, Charles grins across the table.

Charles “I don’t really like doing things like scheming, so I’ll just be direct.”

Charles “Dazai, why don’t you become our nakama?”

Dazai “......”

Dazai opens his mouth (to talk) first after a moment of staring and reading each other hearts.

Dazai “Nakama, huh. I also don’t know much about your background, so I cannot take it easily.”

Charles “Oh, that’s right. Well then, I’ll introduce myself again.”

Charles “I’m Charles Henri Sanson. The same as Dazai — a vampire who died once and being revived.”

Dazai tilted his glass with alcohol without being surprised by the secret revealed.

Dazai “For you to be a vampire, I was wondering if that was the case.”

Dazai “Is Sanson the name of Monsieur de Paris, a family of executioners during the French Revolution?”

Charles “I don’t care about that title now, but you sure know a lot.”

Dazai “Miscellaneous knowledge is useful in some ways for literary creation.”

Dazai “By the way — it seems that the church at the outskirts of town is your stronghold.”

Charles “......”

Dazai “And also, the priest of the church in glasses, and silver hair man who sometimes shows up......”

Dazai “You appear to be friendly with them, are they your nakama?”

Charles “Hmm, you’re really looking into us.”

Charles “Ah, whatever. If Dazai becomes our nakama, I’ll introduce you to Doc and Ōsama.”

Dazai “......”

Even after all those revelations, *quite indifferently, Charles goes on talking.

(*あっけらかんと - looking blank, looking as though one has nothing at all to do with what is going on

Charles’s smile feels friendly like usual, but it also invokes a different sense of discomfort.

Dazai urges him to continue speaking while observing his expression in details.

Dazai “......So, this means, they are your nakama? You are not talking about going to casino together, right?”

Charles “Ahaha, should we go out together next time? Well, to put it simply, I want us to cooperate.”

Dazai “Cooperate......?”

With a smile, Charles leans over the table.

Charles “Yeah......to protect the future of this world — for Lord Vlad’s ambition.”

When MC met Shakespeare back in the town, she was invited to his mansion and he told her a fact —

MC “Charles is a vampire......!?”

(No way......)

Shakespeare “What I just told you is not a lie.”

After Shakespeare left the mansion due to some circumstances, he met another greater vampire, named Vlad, and formed a cooperative relationship for the sake of their mutual purposes.

Acting along with the greater vampire —

Shakespeare “Johann Georg Faust, the priest of church.”

Shakespeare “And also, Charles Henri Sanson......”

Shakespeare “Their lives ended in the past, and now......they are being revived by the hands of Lord Vlad.”

MC “There was another person besides Comte who could do that......”

Shakespeare “Lord Vlad is Comte’s pure-blood old friend. Now I know of an approach, but......”

With a stiff face, he leaves his words hanging for a moment before opens his mouth again.

Shakespeare “......I needed talented great men for my purpose and Lord Vlad’s as well.”

Shakespeare “So, I conveyed information of gentlemen in the mansion to Lord Vlad, in order to determine if they could be of use......”

(He was trying to use everyone......?)

Disturbing sign’s flickering, and it makes MC’s body turns stiff.

But, the confession is squeezed out with his best effort, and now, MC could see he’s terribly regretting it from his expression.

(As I listen to his story deeply, I have a feeling this’s tormenting for him......)

While she’s hesitating to call him out —··· a single whisper fell.

Shakespeare “Everything was for the purpose.”

Shakespeare “But......my stake in him had created more tragedy than what I wish for.”

(Tragedy......? Ah......)

The moment MC hears his voice with grief, the scene that she drove away from the corner of her memory with fears — recalled in her mind.

Shakespeare “Wellington, Gilles de Rais……!”

Man 1 “…Ugh…Why am I still holding the sword…...? What was my justice……?”

Man 2 “……It’s not enough, I need more death to get him back……”

(Perhaps, what I saw back then......)

MC’s heart throbs loudly.

She wants to think that can’t be true, but she feels a certain and unpleasant premonition, and her heart beats even faster.

MC “I......before, at Shakespeare-san’s stage......I saw people fighting with swords.”

Shakespeare “...It was even seen by you......”

MC “Then, that’s......”

(They were really killing each other......)

The raw terror of that moment rises at the back of MC’s spine, and her body trembles.

MC “Did that guy, Vlad send them to you......?”

Shakespeare “......”

Shakespeare neither confirms nor denies it.

Shakespeare “......Lord Vlad loves human.”

Shakespeare “For him, it was just one of the attempts in his desire to achieve peace in the future.”

Shakespeare “Originally, those soldiers were revived to push forward with my plan. So......it’s my sin.”

Shakespeare seems to be driven by the feeling of self-condemnation, but......

MC still couldn’t comprehend Vlad’s thought on human.

(Desiring for peace while using people? How could murders become part of his attempts......I just don’t understand.)

The more she listens, the less she can grasp the outline of that person.

MC “Why is Charles with that guy......?”

Shakespeare “Charles blindly adores Lord Vlad.”

(Is there a reason for Charles to adore him......?)

All MC knows about Charles is his friendly smile, and she cannot imagine he has such connection with Vlad.

Shakespeare “After the murders of those soldiers, Dazai came to me alone.”

Shakespeare “He realized there was someone behind me.”

(Huh — )

Shakespeare “But, he just overlooked me on this.”

Shakespeare “Why is he in contact with Charles now......?”

Shakespeare is feeling suspicious, but for MC who just heard it......

(I can’t help but to worry......)

Listen to all those disturbing stories, she’s really worries that even Dazai got involved in some ways.

But, MC doesn’t know what she’s supposed to do.

Shakespeare “I don’t know what Dazai is really thinking about, but perhaps —”

Shakespeare “Perhaps he got an invitation to side with Lord Vlad......as I did in my time.”

(Invitation......? Dazai-san?)

All the things that happened, MC only left with question marks and it’s hard to keep her head organized.

Shakespeare “Mimi.”

Two eyes of different colors stare at MC with unusual *anxious expression.

(*気遣わしげ - an uncomfortable look that has something to worry about

Shakespeare “Now, I already distanced myself from Lord Vlad.”

Shakespeare “If you make a bad move, it’s possible you won’t be able to reach out to the mansion.”

MC “......”

Shakespeare “Mimi shouldn’t get involved anymore.”

Shakespeare “You are a guest who eventually will return to your original world......as you are a fleeting human being.”

At the same time —

At the bar, Dazai gently narrows his eyes after listening quietly to Charles’s story.

Dazai “I see. In short, your purpose is — the world peace?”

Charles “Yeah, we will use the skills of great men to guide human being so that they will not do bad things and ruin the world.”

Charles “Ōsama said, with vampire’s long long life, we can watch over the fate of this world.”

Dazai “Such a big talk, hmm?”

Dazai, who speaks in soft tone while smiling, does not hide the poison that exudes in his words.

Charles “Why? If it’s Ōsama, he could do that.”

Charles “And, isn’t it nice for everyone around the world to love each other and doesn’t get hurt?”

Dazai “Do you really think so?”

Charles “Of course.”

Charles “I think Mimi will understand. She is a girl who looks straight at the other person and believes in him.”

With a slightly lost tone —

Dazai “......Why does Mimi-san’s name coming out?”

Charles “I like Mimi.”

Charles “But Mimi likes Dazai.”

Dazai “——······”

Even when Dazai looks at him with scrutinizing eyes, Charles just shows a carefree smile and doesn’t falter.

Charles “Dazai......I want to be loved by Mimi too.”

Charles “Hey, take Mimi and come to us.”

Charles “Then — let’s have fun together, like we did when the three of us went out for date?”

#ikemen vampire #ikevam #ikevam dazai #osamu dazai #ikevam spoilers

70 notes · View notes

virgomoontarot · 4 years

Text

New Moon Pick a Pile Reading, August 19, 2020

I have been wanting to incorporate more communal readings like this, and I am so grateful I had the opportunity to create this for you all this evening. The New Moon signals the fresh start of a new cycle. I would like to invite you all to this community reading, which may shed some light on what new beginnings are in store for you. Please keep in mind, because this is a group reading, it may not feel as personal or accurate as readings conducted independently. If this reading raises any questions for you, feel free to shoot me a message so we can discuss it, or even dig deeper.

I now would like to invite you to close your eyes, and take some deep belly breaths. Release any tension you may be holding within your body. Try to imagine a dark night sky, full of bright stars. When you are ready, gently open your eyes, and pick a crystal that calls to you. This may not be the one you find the most beautiful or unique, but the one that is reaching out for your attention, pulling you in. Keep in mind, the following reading is just for fun. What does this new moon have in store for you?

Selenite

At the beginning of this moon cycle, you are finding yourself in a position of success. Great job, you’re killin it. You’ve leveled up. Your experience is building into wisdom which can provide you the resources necessary to move forward. If you’re in need of reassurance that you’re on the right track, this is it. This moon cycle, you will be challenged in a way that feels familiar. Something is coming back around that has challenged you in the past. So while you are in a more mature and successful place to deal with it this time around, it may feel discouraging to be confronted with a challenge you thought you had already worked through. Hold fast, and remain confident in your success. This repeating cycle is one which will bring forth even more personal growth. But growth doesn’t always feel too great until we get through to the other side. Hang in there. An element of this challenge that is hidden, is one that you are actually hiding from yourself, though you may not realize it. There is an element of denial at play here. You may be avoiding your inner emotions. You must take time for reflection. Slow down. You may be faced with a choice, but none of the options are appealing to you. However, the time has come to address these issues. You may find it helpful to take some alone time, practice some grounding, and ask yourself, what’s really bothering you? What really needs to be worked on? You can’t hide from your inner emotions forever. They will continue to resurface until you sort them out. This moon cycle, the universe is building a flow of energy and opportunity for you! How wonderful! It’s a great time to try and tap into this energy as much as possible and go with the flow. You can’t speed up the process, and you shouldn’t have any doubt. Open the sails and allow the winds of fate to blow you in the direction you must go. Be open to this flowing current of energy, and trust in it to serve you well. This moon cycle, you’re being encouraged to strive for a better relationship with the truth. Relating back to earlier in this reading, you need to be honest with yourself and acknowledge your deeper emotions. I get a sense that maybe some of you like to stay busy so that you don’t have to sit with your feelings. This is not the same as having a healthy intellectual understanding of your emotions. It’s just a form of avoidance. You’re being encouraged to keep it real with yourself. I get a sense that some of you may have some unhealthy emotional habits which are self sabotaging in nature. Evaluate these behaviors and their motivation, so that you can begin to tackle the root cause, rather than putting out fires that have already started. Some final words of encouragement this cycle are affirmations of stability and long term success. Again confirming that you’ve been doing awesome and that you’re leveling up. All this hard work is going to pay off, promise. Keep up the hustle. You are laying a strong foundation for long term growth and success. For some of you especially this is career oriented, but this can also be true in a sense of relationships and personal growth. The reward is coming, just keep pushing through.

Recap: you’ve been doing awesome and you’ve recently leveled up in a sense. This is a sign you’re on the right path. However, repeating cycles are going to emerge this moon cycle, likely because you have some inner work that requires your attention that you have been avoiding or denying its importance. Practice grounding and stay in the moment, and feel the flow of energy moving through as you move around and work through these stagnant inner areas. Strive to keep it real and be honest with yourself about the nature and cause of unhealthy behavior and thought patterns. You will continue to grow your success this moon cycle, and by the next new moon, you will have taken significant steps toward laying a foundation for future success and stability.

Obsidian

This moon cycle calls for resilience. Perhaps you’ve recently found yourself softening in the face of challenges, and if you haven’t, then you will be needing to. Rather than taking challenges head on, which can create more resistance, this moon cycle calls for you to approach opposition with compassion and curiosity.The challenge of this moon cycle is in your ability to open your heart up. There is a partnership, a long term relationship in your life. For some this may of course be romantic in nature, but it could also be a friendship, familial relationship, business partnership, or otherwise. You must open yourself up to this. Now is not the time to be closed off. I get a sense of a lack of trust here for some of you. Some of you have been hurt and are not feeling confident in the ability of others to pull their end of the partnership. You must soften, and rather than viewing this as you vs them, view it as you both vs the problem. View your differences from a place of compassion and empathy. A hidden piece of the challenge here is a significant loss. There is another calling here for resilience and perseverance. You may need to reach out for help now. Asking for help is not a sign of weakness. In fact, it is something that often takes courage. Whatever this unexpected loss may be, you must reach out to someone, open your heart and trust that they will do what they can to support you. Life is always going to have ups and downs. Support when we are down will develop into celebration when we are up. This moon cycle, a brand new opportunity is building for you. This is resource oriented. So for many of you this is income or career oriented. For others, this is a new relationship of some kind. For all of you, it is a shift that must begin from within. In order to mold our outer world, we must create a healthy inner world for it to reflect. This means putting ourselves in an abundance mindset. Practice affirmations like “I am successful” “I am grateful” “I have everything I need”. This moon cycle asks you to surrender to the loss you will be experiencing. That sucks. I’m not gonna sugar coat it. This loss is gonna hurt, but you will get through it by the end of this cycle, and new opportunities will present themselves on the other side. You must walk away from what is no longer serving you. You can’t hold on to what’s already gone. It won’t do you any good. Press onward. Strive to accept this change as a force of growth. It’s time to move on so you may ascend beyond this phase of your life. Ouch. Your final words of encouragement here are that this process cannot be rushed. I know it hurts and it sucks to feel down and out. Life isn’t fair, and you just want to push through and succeed and get what you’re wanting and craving. You can’t force these things. You have to surrender and ride this out. But you will get through this, as long as you stay true to yourself and do not compromise your integrity in order to get ahead or get back at those who have hurt you.

Recap: this moon cycle, unfortunately, you will be faced with a great loss. You can’t rush the grieving process, nor can you force the growth process. You must surrender to your circumstances and sit with this misfortune. This is going to be a test of your resilience, but by softening in the face of challenge and being gentle with yourself, you will make it through this. You are strong enough. But no one is strong enough to get through this time alone. You need to find a way to trust someone and reach out for support. This is a key element of this challenge, and it will be your guiding light. Remember that through endings we are delivered to new beginnings, and this somber change is one that is going to bring you to a place of new opportunities which are better suited for you.

Labradorite

This moon cycle has you in a situation where you just have to walk away. If you recently left a toxic environment, this is your sign that you made the right choice. If you’re unsure what to do and have not made a choice, you must walk into the unknown, even if it is sad or frightening, it is for the best. Challenges this cycle relate to authority and structure. If you’re planning on making some moves, you’re gonna be faced with the challenge of laying the necessary infrastructure to make it happen. This challenge could relate to a boss or a parent, or it could be a lack of self confidence. If this is the case, take time to feel empowered and energized. Sit in front of the mirror and repeat after me: “You.Are.A.Badass.” A hidden element of this challenge is a need for tradition and structured practice. You may be surprised how well you fare upon the adoption of a dedicated meditation practice. This could also be a sign you require a menor or a teacher during this time, and it’s hard for you to admit that. The forces of justice are building for you during this moon cycle. So if you’ve been wronged by a person of authority, the truth is going to come out. If you have been dishonest and cut corners in your commitments, the truth is also going to come out. Be aware of this. You are encouraged this moon cycle to explore the unknown within. This is something you must do on your own. Nobody else can do this for you. You are encouraged to sit with yourself in quiet contemplation and reflection. Again, I am seeing encouragement to meditate or spend time in thoughtful prayer. Elements of the subconscious must be explored. Your final words of encouragement today, are that your happiness and success is entirely up to you. Do not place the success of your happiness in external factors, such as the way others treat you, or what you do for a living or the value of your home. Happiness and contentment come from within. By creating a space of self acceptance within, your outer world will be illuminated in a new light that you may find to be far more satisfying. Additionally, you’re encouraged not to indulge in fantasy too much. Be realistic with yourself and the truth of your situation. Set tangible goals that are under your control, rather than asking the universe to simply drop a happy bomb in your lap.

Recap. This moon cycle calls you to explore the sub conscious through diligent practice in order to create a more peaceful inner world. It calls for structure and discipline and quiet contemplation. You must face these inner truths, and remain realistic in your desires. The practice itself, whether it is one of prayer, meditation, yoga, taking walks, or anything else, is what will illuminate these areas of self. Show up for yourself and remain confident in your ability to grow and create a happier state of self.

Feel free to reblog this post or share it with a friend! Thank you all for taking the time to explore what this next cycle has in store for us. I wish you all the best on your new opportunities for personal growth with this new moon!

✨🌑💜

#free tarot #divination #free readings #tarot #witchblr #witchy #moon magic #pick a card #pick a crystal #pick a pile #tarot readers

30 notes · View notes

lavendertwilight89 · 4 years

Text

Making Amends

Got an ask like forever ago whooooops for a Sess, Inu, and Kag relationship building one from @inuyashaloverforever

I think it will be two parts but here was a good place to end it for now to give something for her to enjoy and keep her wanting more bahahahaahaha

Posted to Ao3

I’m sorry but not

Rated Teen

tags:

@superpixie42 @cstormsinukagblog @willowandfog @inuyashaloverforever @xfangheartx @clearwillow @umacaking @bluejay785 @smmahamazing @murdergiraffe @faulkner-blog @sapphirestarxx @swaggingtomboy @sarah-writes-stories @hnnwnchstr @wolverine1092

Inuyasha and Kagome had been mated for about six moons when Kagome noticed some distinct changes in herself. She felt like her hearing had heightened—she could hear people approaching far above what she had used to. It wasn’t as strong as Inuyasha’s, but even he thought it had grown stronger.

Her sense of smell almost grew better. Or worse. Honestly, she felt like the latter. Especially when she found out she was pregnant. That particular change was her least favorite. More often than she liked, she wound up sick and confined in the house making Inuyasha cook dinner at Sango’s or Kaede’s.

At night, she even noticed a difference with her eyesight. It came in handy when a certain half-demon wanted to make love by the Sacred Tree; not that she was ever opposed to that. It was comforting that even after all those years, they found such comfort in the place where they first met.

Since her first missed bleeding, Sesshomaru had started coming around more and more. Kagome knew from Inuyasha that he had been more present in the village since Rin was left with Kaede. Something that had surprised Kagome since she knew how protective he was of the little girl. But now, it had become like the village was his second home.

While Inuyasha had reservations about Sesshomaru, he had become accepting of his brother and the added protection he offered. Only a few times had the village been attacked in the past three years the jewel had been destroyed, but when they did show up, they meant business. Sesshomaru had stayed near Kagome, keeping her and the demon away from each other. Inuyasha finished it off quickly knowing Kagome was safe.

One afternoon while Inuyasha was working in the forest with some villagers who needed more trees for wood, she felt Sesshomaru’s presence nearby.

She hesitated to call out to him as she stepped out of the hut but decided to test the new waters of the relationship he seemed like he was starting to want, “Brother?”

She heard a quiet scoff but he emerged from the tree line, not annoyed oddly enough, but still fairly unemotional.

“Would you like to join me for tea?” she offered hopeful he would accept the invitation.

“...As you wish,” he said as he made his way towards her.

She stepped back into her hut and poured them both a fresh cup. They sat in silence. To say it was awkward was an understatement. What does one say to a daiyoukai? Small talk was likely out--but with her nerves that was all she could currently think of--Stupid! Think of something!!

“Calm your nerves, miko.”

“Sorry,” she exhaled. “I just, uh, don’t want to bore you or annoy you with small talk but I’m told I babble when I’m nervous. Just something I’ve always done. You should ask Inuyasha about our journey to find the jewel shards. I mean--”

“No need to hide who you are. You are mated to my idiot brother. You are now family.”

“You consider Inuyasha family?” she exclaimed softly.

“He is the second son of the Inu-no-Taisho. He aided in the destruction of Naraku. He unlocked the full power and form of Tessaiga. One cannot overlook such accomplishments.”

Leave it to Sesshomaru to look at this as a logical thing rather than an emotional thing. Well… that actually made her question things. Inuyasha only knew the basics about his heritage and what Myouga had taught him. His instincts were what guided him in other areas, though he couldn’t quite tell her why they demanded certain things than others.

“Sesshomaru… forgive me if this is a rude question but uhm… do demons… have feelings?”

He stared at her impassively. Whoops. Wrong questions?

“I-I-I mean obviously you feel things! God that was a stuid question--what I meant was--uh--how do I put this??”

“Priestess,” he said as if he was exasperated.

“Right, right, we’re family. I can be myself, hahahaa,” she laughed nervously. When she returned to the feudal era to be with Inuyasha, never once in a million years would she have thought she would be sitting having tea with Sesshomaru.

“Demons feel things differently than humans,” he offered. She was surprised he answered.

“What… uhm… what do you mean by differently?”

“Are these questions revolving around your mate? Or demons in general?”

“No; Inuyasha and I are able to communicate our feelings perfectly fine. This is more of a… question for you and other demons. Uhm, I guess I,uh, also am wondering about his instincts. He doesn't’ always know why they tell him things. Myouga only knows so much about inuyoukai.”

“Do you not house the kit? His scent fills the house. He could have likely explained this to you.”

“Uh, yes, but Shippo is so young. And honestly I’d feel odd asking those kinds of questions to my son.”

“So you’d prefer to ask your ‘brother’?” It was more of a statement than a question but she responded with a nod. “Very well… yes. Demons feel. The emotions are a bit different than in comparison to mortals but overall, similar. Demons become devoted to their partners. It is what human’s refer to as love. When demons decide to mate, it is not a passing or fleeting feeling like some humans often choose to do. Our instincts can sense who would be the most compatible mate and slowly our devotion grows into adoration, or love. It can often be more intense than what humans feel. While a mortal man may defend his family, he could not summon a baser instinct to save the family. Demons will sacrifice themselves by summoning their baser self. Hence why our father died for Inuyasha’s human mother. He was gravely injured but refused to allow her to come to harm.”

“Does… Inuyasha know that?”

“Instinctually, his demon state would take control if you or your pup were in danger.”

“I meant about your father and his mother.”

“No. At least, I have not told him as much.”

“Why… uh, why tell me then? Why not share with him?”

“Our relationship is strained.”

“Why not uhm… un-strain it then?” she prompted.

“The wounds I have once inflicted are not so easily overturned, miko.”

“Kagome. Or sister. But no title references; as you said, we are family.”

“Indeed… little sister.”

“Inuyasha, while he’s still gruff on the surface, has learned to forgive. Trust. I think if you talked to him things would change.”

“Perhaps you are correct.”

“Then you’ll consider trying to mend your relationship?”

“In time… Kagome.”

She smiled at the use of her name. “I will also speak with my mate. I’m sure he’ll want our pup to have as much family that he can,” she added stroking her swollen abdomen. She was already showing at four months in and slightly suspected the possibility of multiple pups but until Inuyasha confirmed it or Sesshomaru corrected her, she would refer to the fetus as a singular entity.

“Pups, you mean.” Whelp. That confirmed that theory.

“I had a sneaking suspicion there were two in there. Inuyasha always got weird when we talked about the pup--well pups,” she corrected.

“Likely fearing you’d subdue him after only being mated for ten moons and already whelped you with multiple pups.”

Oh. My. Gods. Sesshomaru was joking. He was joking with her!!! Yes it was an accurate statement but she could tell her had added just a flare of humor! She giggled in response.

“Is there another reason you’d want to stay? Not that I don’t want you to--I love Rin. She’s become an important part of our pack we made and I know she’s very important to you as well. I’d love for you to join us--not saying you’re not family--or not pack--I mean--”

“Sister…” he looked at her out of the corner of her eye that held a slight glint of laughter.

“Right-right sorry. Pregnancy has made my nerves worse,” she laughed.

“The pups deserve their heritage… as does my brother. He deserves to be trained further. As you do you, sister. After mating, I know you experienced changes.”

“Yes,” she bit her lip. “Myouga was only able to tell us so much since your lord father passed before he could fully mate Inuyasha’s mother.”

“Indeed. The bond you share is allowing your auras to merge. It happens between mortals and demons. It was unexpected to occur between Inuyasha and yourself, miko. But he only continues to grow stronger… something he must credit to you.”

“Thank you for that Sesshomaru. I’m sure you can say the same about Rin.”

“Hn.”

She smiled knowing that was as much as she was going to get from the daiyoukai on the subject. Rin was fourteen and a handful. Suitors were coming and going like mad and she refused them all. Kagome held her suspicions as to why and obviously Sesshomaru was going to neither deny nor confirm her thoughts. But the fact he had grown more caring to Inuyasha, saved him from his demon state, spared Kohaku, hunted down Naraku, and gave up the fight to claim Tessaiga for himself all for the little girl was a dead give away.

“May I ask something else?”

“If you must,” Sesshomaru said impassively.

“Does scent have anything to do with a demon finding the mate?”

“Yes. It is what lures a demon to begin to try and court their mate forming the connection. It is where devotion begins.”

“I see…” She pondered if that was why Sesshomaru kept Rin with him to even begin with.

About to add more to the conversion, she sensed her mate returning. Sesshomaru obviously did as well as he made to stand but Kagome waved her hand down to keep him seated.

“Now would be a perfect time as any to start mending those bridges, Sesshomaru. Please, stay?” she asked kindly.

For the first time in… EVER she swore she saw the great dog demon look uncomfortable. SESSHOMARU. UNCOMFORTABLE. WHAT WAS HAPPENING?!!?

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Inuyasha said without much gruff as he pushed back the mat as he entered the hut.

Sesshomaru stared at his brother with a hint of annoyance. Kagome sighed and realized it would be harder than she anticipated for them to work out their issues. Sesshomaru was willing to try… he also may have made it clear to her that Inuyasha would do anything for her--or at least his demon side would.

“Inuyasha, why don’t you come sit down and join us?” she asked, trying to add a twinkle to her eye to entice her mate.

He glared at her but huffed as he complied with her request. He took up position behind her and pulled her into his lap and wrapped his arms around her and brushed her abdomen lovingly while he rumbled out a low growl. She looked back and him rolling her eyes. Dominance. Obviously a dog-demon thing. Though it was odd, Sesshomaru did not growl in return, he merely looked on. He just observed them as they sat in front of him. Did he want a mate? Did he want family?

“Inuyasha, Sesshomaru and I were just talking about demonic traits and how they relate to human things. He also said he could explain the changes going on because of our mate bond,” she said, nuzzling his neck. Her plot to butter him up seemed to be working as he seemed to relax little by little.

“Why?”

“It was just conversation. You know how I babble,” she laughed cheerily pressing a kiss to his chin.

“I know what you’re doing,” he rumbled softly into her ear.

“It’s working so I’m going to keep doing it,” she purred in return.

“Fine… what do you want?”

“I think you two should talk about your relationship.”

“WHAT?!?!” he bellowed.

“I can leave the room if you’d prefer to talk in private,” she offered cheekily. His arms tightened around her and he growled making her giggle.

“If you’re done,” Sesshomaru prompted annoyed at the displays of affection. Inuyasha and her were a little more touchy-feely than they had ever been previously. Well ever. But since she returned through the well, it was almost like they had to--it was the only way to feel whole and safe.

“While demons are more expressive in their mate bonds, I do not need to see a full grown dog drool over his mate like a juvenile.”

Kagome blushed madly while Inuyasha scoffed, “Alright ya bastard… Why are you here?”

“Kagome offered tea.”

Inuyasha’s eyebrow raised in skepticism, “And you thought, ‘What the hell? Why not! Not like I’ve said more than ten words to my brother in the past five years that didn’t involve dying or trying to run him through with a sword’!”

“Inuyasha,” Kagome warned.

“What?! That’s a fair question!”

“It is, little sister. After much thought, I thought we should try to mend our bridges. Rebuild the family. Our Pack… Especially because you are expanding your own.”

“Why care now? You had your chance hundreds of years ago--why now?”

“Because you have proven yourself, idiot. You have proven to be far more powerful than our father. I… was wrong. I was angry our father chose you over me. Is that what you’d like to hear?”

Kagome gasped while Inuyasha was able to keep his composure aside from his eyes expanding. The bastard actually admitted in an offhanded way he was wrong? That he had hated him because he was upset over their old man saving him? His mother always told him the story of his father’s death. He never took Sesshomaru’s feelings into account.

“I, uh…” Inuyasha trailed off uncomfortably.

Sesshomaru began to rise and head for the door but stopped before he left the reed mat to turn back and lock eyes with them, “I would like to correct my mistakes with your pups. They should not grow up without the knowledge of our inuyoukai heritage.” He swiftly left without another word.

“Well…?” Kagome asked pensively to her mate.

“...Thank you,” he said as he kissed her forehead.

“I’m so glad that you’re willing to give this a shot,” Kagome nuzzled her face into his neck. “I’m happy our children will be able to be close to one of their uncles.”

He tensed, “Fuck, he told you.”

“Before you start, I’m not mad. I’m actually excited! We’re going to have twins! Twin brothers that will grow up together and love each other.”

“I’m still saying ‘sisters’ wench,” he said, smirking as he tilted her to lay down upon the floor before kissing down her neck, making her giggle in response. He apparently was very pleased with the arrangement and owed her many ‘thank-yous’.

#inuyasha x kagome #inuyasha fanfiction #inukag #inu x kag

42 notes · View notes

jokertrap-ran · 4 years

Photo

(未定事件簿) EVENT! 「消失的黄金」 [Tears of Themis] EVENT: The Lost Gold Translations (Chapter 1-04: Cruise Guest Room)

*Tears of Themis Masterlist is under construction. *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *The tracking tag for ALL Event Stories will go under: #Tears of an Event *(y/n) is your name when in direct referral; otherwise referred to as MC.

Location: Cruise Guest Room

The Terminal in Lu Jinghe's hand was damaged and there were apparent marks of corrosion hidden under it's back cover.

Zuo Ran: The Circuit Board has been completely corroded…

Xia Yan: Looks like a Chemical Reagent at okay.

Mo Yi: This probably wasn't accidental, someone did this.

Lu Jinghe: Yes.

MC: So you're saying that we're going to have to investigate and find the suspect who destroyed the terminal?

≫Inquiry Start≪

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

⊳ Choice: Crew on-board

Mo Yi: Who else are on-board aside from the participating Treasure Hunters?

Lu Jinghe: There are some Reporters who are here to report on the Event along with some acquaintances who're here to relax.

Mo Yi: Were you the one who verified all the Treasure Hunting Candidates and the other guests?

Lu Jinghe: No, all of you here are the only one's I personally extended an invitation to.

Lu Jinghe: I'm actually only the Organizer of this "Deserted Island Treasure Hunt" Event. It was really my Uncle who had planned out this entire thing.

Lu Jinghe: It was just inconvenient for him to appear in person for one reason or another. Hence, he borrowed my name.

Lu Jinghe: All the Treasure Hunters and the other guests are all handled by my Uncle.

Lu Jinghe: My Uncle is also in charge of the Event process, the Treasure Map's design and the layout of the Island.

Xia Yan: Then, what about the Staff aboard? Are they all PAX Group's employees?

Lu Jinghe: They are all employees of PAX Entertainment, under my name.

Lu Jinghe: Nosta Island and this Cruise Ship we're all on are my Private Properties.

Mo Yi: Were their identities verified before they boarded the ship then?

Lu Jinghe: Yes, we confirmed each and every one of their identities before they boarded so there are no imposters.

Lu Jinghe: But there are some guests who came with their friends and relatives whose names were not stated in the invitations.

Lu Jinghe: We're still verifying this group of people.

⊳ Choice: Situation at the time

MC: The Terminal only came up with a problem just recently, right? What was the situation like at that time?

Lu Jinghe: We're all going to be departing for the Island tomorrow, that's why the Staff were checking to verify that all Terminals are in working condition.

Lu Jinghe: The Terminal in question had been running for about an hour before it suddenly died out.

Lu Jinghe: Hence, the Staff found that the Circuit Board had been corroded and figured someone must have messed with it.

Lu Jinghe: After investigation, we found out that more than half of the Terminal's had been meddled with.

He withdrew another Terminal that looked to be in perfect condition, prying open its back cover. Behind the sealed lid was a small box filled with a small amount of white powder.

Lu Jinghe: These small boxes have been found in all of the affected Terminals. The powder within it will gradually leak into the terminal as it moves in an up-down motion.

Lu Jinghe: I've already had people test this powder; it's Sodium Hydroxide.

MC: Did they use the Chemical Properties of Sodium Hydroxide to burn the circuit?

Xia Yan: Sodium Hydroxide is highly Hygroscopic and will turn into a corrosive solution when it interacts with water.

Xia Yan: The air on the Island is humid, so the suspect must have been using this to destroy the components of the Terminal.

⊳ Choice: Security Footage

MC: Is the Warehouse where the Terminals are stored monitored? Were there any abnormalities recorded?

Lu Jinghe: We DO have Security Footage, but it has already been modified by someone else.

Xia Yan: Modified? Was it erased or spliced?

Lu Jinghe: Spliced replacement.

Lu Jinghe: Someone used a normal footage of the Warehouse to replace the footage of it being broken into.

Zuo Ran: Which part of this footage had been modified?

Lu Jinghe: The one from this morning.

Zuo Ran: Can you find out the time of when the replacement footage was taken?

Lu Jinghe: It was the normal footage from before we realized that the Terminals had been sabotaged.

Zuo Ran: Then it looks like this entire sabotage took place in the morning.

Zuo Ran: Did the Patrolling Staff see anyone suspicious approaching the Warehouse?

Lu Jinghe: I've already asked; so no, they didn't.

Zuo Ran: Then, that means that the suspect is aware of the Shift Roster and the Personnel Duty Arrangements.

Zuo Ran: We can't deny the possibility of it being an inside job.

⊳ Choice: Uncle

MC: Lu Jinghe, you just said that your Uncle was the real person who's behind the "Deserted Island Treasure Hunt"?

Lu Jinghe: He's not. My Uncle, Tian Yu, specializes in Outdoor Sport Products and has many well-known brands under his belt.

MC: Why did he arrange this Event? To advertise his own brand?

Lu Jinghe: It's commerciality is only one of the many factors that he took into consideration.

Lu Jinghe: Uncle Tian has always liked stories about Treasure Hunts, but has neither the time nor energy to do it.

Lu Jinghe: He fell gravely ill last year and spent quite a long time in front of death's door.

Lu Jinghe: And after recovering from his illness, he had set his mind on organizing a Treasure Hunt, wanting to become an actual Treasure Hunter at least once in his life.

MC: There are legends of hidden treasures on this Island, is that why he asked you to host the Event?

Lu Jinghe: That's right. He'd actually wanted to buy the Development Rights of this Island, but I just happened to be one step ahead of him.

Lu Jinghe: That's why he's only able to become second-in-command, turning into the Planner and the Sponsor of this Event.

Xia Yan: There's a saying, ever heard of it? "There is no affection between family in business". You rich people are really merciless when snatching things up from under each other's nose.

Lu Jinghe: I wasn't aware of his plans at that time, else I'd have let him have it.

Lu Jinghe: It's not like I'm short on Islands or anything.

MC: (What kind of far-fetched talk is this supposed to be…?)

⊳ Choice: Motive

MC: The main purpose of the Terminal is so that the participants can be located and rescued immediately in the case of an emergency.

MC: The most straightforward reason as to why the suspect would want to destroy the Terminal, is to increase the difficulty and danger that the Event Participants will face.

MC: Do you think...that the suspect wants to increase his chances of winning? Like cheating on exams?

Mo Yi: Things would be much simpler if the suspect's target was merely this Treasure Hunt’s Treasure. I'm afraid this person has another motive.

MC: Another motive? You mean…

I suddenly remembered the "Stolen Gold" that everyone had been talking about on the night of the Launching Ceremony.

MC: No way, do people actually believe that there's gold on that Island?

Mo Yi: The possibility cannot be ruled out.

Mo Yi: Just imagine; what do you think would have happened if the Staff didn't manage to find out that the Terminals had been sabotaged tonight?

MC: I'm afraid many participants will find their Terminals faulty when we land on the Island tomorrow.

Lu Jinghe: Emergency Backup Plans have long since been established in the event of accidental damage of the Terminals.

Lu Jinghe: The Terminal Data Monitor on-board will track everyone's location in real-time…

Lu Jinghe: And the Monitor will set off an alarm immediately, should the signal of any Terminal disappear.

Lu Jinghe: The Staff Members will head down to the location where the signal disappeared as quickly as possible, to replace the Terminal with a spare one or two carry out emergency rescue.

Mo Yi: But, if Technical Issues were to occur on a large-scale...I'm afraid the Staff would be stretched too thinly to adhere to everyone.

Lu Jinghe: Yes, the situation on the Island would turn into one of chaos.

Mo Yi: The Treasure Hunters are here for profit and the competition and chances of confrontation between all participants are all inherently strong...

Mo Yi: It's hard to say what might happen should a "blind spot" that isn't being monitored by the Organizer, appear.

Mo Yi: Gold, the Event Reward, or any material wealth might just be one of their motives under the guise of this chaos.

≫Inquiry End≪

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Mo Yi's words made everyone lapse into a short silence.

Lu Jinghe: So let's stop beating around the bush and come clean.

Lu Jinghe: All of you, spill. Why exactly did you come to this Island?

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Previous Part: (Chapter 1-03: Private Cruise) | Next Part: (Chapter 1-05: Beach Zone)

#Tears of Themis #Translations #Otome #Mihoyo #未定事件簿 #陆景和 #Lu Jinghe #左然 #Zuo Ran #夏彦 #Xia Yan #莫弈 #Mo Yi #消失的黄金 #The Lost Gold #Tears of an Event

11 notes · View notes

derbycityjbgc · 3 years

Text

To the Louisville Protest and Movement Community from Medusa:

A dox was recently released about me by a group calling themselves Louisville Radical Federation. This group consists of Louisville ARA members, RAM (Revolutionary Abolitionist Movement) members, Louisville Street Medic members, and others associated with them. It contained a lot of information, incorrect information, while also revealing information about myself. I would like to take this time to address accusations against me and highlight the who and the why behind all of this.

Poor Security/Snitch:

These accusations against me come on the heels of attempts to call me a snitch and blame me for poor security culture. The basis for this accusation is me mentioning “the uhaul dox” on the LMPD live feed from Sept 26 (which is no longer on their Facebook page).

The “uhaul dox” was a reference to a situation created by Louisville ARA members who rented a uHaul in their own names, but with an old address on their license

Well-known (both locally and nationally, and in far right, white supremacist circles) Louisville ARA members were recorded on video unmasked handing out gear (hard banners, masks, goggles, etc) to protesters in an open parking lot

They were identified by far-right activists and the uHaul truck identified by its license and serial number

An employee at uHaul leaked internal call logs with the account information related to the rental with names and addresses included

A phone call of someone pretending to be uHaul was recorded with an ARA member where questions are answered and more information is given away

All of this is documented over and over again on YouTube.

It became a national story, trending on twitter, with even New York Times and Politifact articles written about it, with many right wing media incorrectly attempting to connect organizations and people to George Soros

While it was absolutely a poor choice on my part to mention “the uhaul dox” to anyone, especially police, there is no grounds for blaming the entire situation on me. In fact, the use of poor security culture by Louisville ARA created and enhanced the entire situation from beginning to end.

The accusation of poor security culture is a deflection of their own poor security culture choices highlighted above. Repeated actions of those associated with Louisville ARA, RAM, and other groups have created unsafe situations at the park over and over again.

Unwanted Sexual Advances:

Yes, I have been under the influence of drugs and alcohol while engaging in sexual activity. I admit to that, while also wanting to point out that I have also taken steps over the last year to minimize my usage of different substances and when I have slipped up, have been accountable for it and asked for forgiveness with a renewed promise to do better. Those people know who they are and there is no reason to drag them into anything.

In regards to the specific instance mentioned in the dox:

Both individuals involved were under the influence of substances

We had sex twice - once before sleep, once after sleep

I repeatedly asked for consent during the interaction, as each step progressed

This person then stayed at my house for multiple days after the interaction

The insinuation of a power dynamic around age disregards the other power dynamics that existed, such as this person’s connection to a founding member of Louisville ARA

I was later told by this person’s friends that they were in a committed relationship with someone else during the time of our interaction

This person denies that they were in a relationship at the time, but I have been approached by others given similar information much later after the interaction occurred

The twisted version of this interaction is not what was told to former partners of this person

This person repeatedly approached me this summer regarding our interaction describing it as “great” and saying “I wish we could do it again”

The interaction took place almost two years ago and I have not been a part of the community for almost a year, there has definitely been ample time to address the interaction or any issues with it before now without power dynamic issues or threat given that I was not a member of the community

I have not once been approached by Louisville ARA or their affiliates regarding accountability for this interaction since it occurred

The other individual a part of the interaction in the past has been repeatedly called in regarding consent issues, defense of far right political personalities, sex work shaming, transphobic behavior, toxic masculinity, and other issues and in fact, left Louisville ARA because of the accountability call in for those things

If the intent was to hold me accountable, spreading rumors of rape in bars or a public call out without any attempts at restorative and transformative justice is not constructive or appropriate.

I do want to hold space for those I have hurt though, intentionally or unintentionally, with my actions. I am truly, deeply sorry if anything I have done has resulted in making anyone feel unsafe. Should there be a genuine request for an accountability process, I would wholeheartedly engage in it.

Ignoring/Disregarding POC on Sept 26:

The accusation was made that I presented myself as a police liaison on the night of Sept 26, despite being asked not to do so by several POC.

I never once refer to myself as a police liaison, nor have I ever

The decision to approach the police line was made by a group of people tasked with protecting protesters and the church, and clergy:

Clergy and armed protection asked folks to go into the church building when the explosion occurred

Multiple intel sources, including bike scouts, indicated LMPD was gearing up to enter the church property with or without a warrant (confirmed by Interim Chief Schroeder in testimony to Metro Council)

LMPD sent all media away from the location, so we invited a 502Livestreamer to come with us to document the exchange

I was not approached by any POC or Black organizers at any point during these conversations

Multiple members of the armed protection team were initially going to the police line but the others were called back to deal with a situation

When a group of three Black individuals approached the police line after we had already talked to police, I immediately stepped away and created space for them to negotiate.

All of this is recorded on camera, including church security footage with sound, and can be confirmed by members of the clergy and the other people who were a part of the interactions

Ultimately attempts at negotiation were finalized by the Black woman who came forward

When the offer to return home between 3-3:30am was given, I actively encouraged people to stay at the church, but later was informed that members of Louisville ARA and their associates went behind me and told people to leave, that staying was a trap.

In fact, the trap was telling people they could freely and safely arrive home

LMPD arrested 28+ protesters on their way home, some were disappeared for a number of hours before it was known what happened to them

POC Claim:

The accusation is made that I am falsely claiming to be a person of color based on an immediate relative’s DNA test.

At no point did a “calling in” conversation take place, no actual conversation around this specific issue ever took place. Comments made in passing or a two minute conversation absolutely do not qualify as a calling in.

I did not know it was considered an issue to others until it was screamed in my face during an outburst that had nothing to do with my identity

This is being claimed by a group of people who have no knowledge of the growth, journey, insights, or nuances I have experienced, nor was there ever an attempt to have those conversations

This group repeatedly discussed their feelings and thoughts about me without my input, knowledge, or clarification, including with other organizers in an attempt to discredit me

Out of state persons with whom I had never conversed about my identity publicly dragged me in a large group Signal chat referring to me as “Rachel Dolezal” among other name calling and abusive behavior

This is complicated. Yes, I discovered Roma in my family through a DNA test, that is true. I spent a large amount of time studying the culture, digging into my family’s background to understand better how we tied into the Romani, learning my heritage and history, and had many, many discussions with POC and Black folks about what I was learning. In fact, several of the POC I had discussions with, who had encouraged me to identify as POC and to embrace my Roma heritage are the same people now accusing me of being fake. The main source of those accusations though, come from white people, specifically ARA members who have been unsupportive from the very beginning and showed their indifference to even attempting to engage in conversation.

I am not going to try to convince anyone of who I am or am not. I have spoken with Roma elders; I know my Vitsa; I have Romanipen. I practice my beliefs as Roma. I am Roma. Who I am, my identity, is not up to someone else to debate.

I have never attempted to engage in oppression olympics with anyone. I have rarely ever even discussed my own experiences regarding racial profiling. I have occasionally shared articles or images highlighting Roma history and present, which is a story of oppression, and held discussions around educating people about oppression and profiling Roma have experienced, including the use of slurs such as g*psy or the appropriation of aesthetic such as bohemian or g*psy “soul”. I have argued that the fight against white supremacy and Nazism is a fight for Roma, because it is. Unfortunately, Roma and other ethnic minorities have been excluded from the conversation of liberation at the square to such a degree that most feel unwelcome and unwanted there.

If the disagreement is around the concept that someone cannot discover parts of themselves late in life and find a source of identity in that, I would argue that is engaging in gatekeeping, exclusionism, and toxic internalized white supremacy.

If the disagreement is around the concept that Roma people are not people of color, that is racist.

Roma are not even recognized as a people group in the US. Claiming that my identity is invalidating to POC is antiziganism. My identity is mine. Those who take issue with it are transferring their own insecurities regarding their identity on to me. It is toxic, racist, and unfair.

Bad Intel Sharing:

Intel is a communal effort and comes from many, many sources, not one; generally intel/information I share has been passed to me by others

Constantly moving actions, pieces, and groups create an impossible situation for having ALL the information before making decisions

Louisville ARA, RAM, and others associated with them refused to participate in standard communications that other groups and people were a part of (including Signal chats, Zello groups, radio comms, etc)

They encouraged people at First Unitarian Church to leave the property despite curfew causing multiple arrests

They have repeatedly attempted to spread wrong intel about fellow activists to discredit them and push them out of the movement

They have failed to show up to situations when back up or help was requested

They refuse to cooperate or engage with information that comes from any source other than themselves, gatekeeping regarding issues of safety and security for protesters

They have gone as far as claiming that the vouches of other people are invalid based on their personal assessment, not on any empirical evidence

Grifter/Jumping from group to group:

I am not originally from Louisville and I have only been a part of the leftist scene here for about four years. Many of the people in different organizations and communities have a history that I do not share. So, yes, I have spent time in different groups, trying to find my place in the movement.

I truly thought I had found that place with Louisville ARA, but after the two years of toxicity, I couldn’t handle it anymore. When I distanced myself from them, I lost my friend group, my community and it broke my heart.

However, I believe in cultivating healthy relationships and community, not one based on codependency and narcissistic centering. When I left Louisville ARA, I immersed myself in studying intentional communities, transformative and restorative justice, and how to address conflict/harm.

I wrote out my dreams for a community. I shared those dreams with some others who I thought also believed in them. Rather than engaging healthily when the dox came out, most of those who I thought shared my vision of community left me standing alone rather than putting the ideals we had agreed to into practice. It’s been a very painful realization for me to know where people truly stand, but I would rather know who is true than not know.

Conclusion:

While we all make poor decisions, and I am not excusing mine in any way (and have been willing to admit to them, accept correction, and remove myself when necessary), I have always maintained that if people feel unsafe, they should only engage to their comfort level.

Certain people who are now accusing me of these things had inserted themselves into conversations that they were intentionally not invited to because of their discomfort with certain actions. In every instance of an action or idea, I have made clear that only people who are willing to take on the danger of an action should be involved. I would not want it to be any other way, even if that means people backing out or removing themselves from an action. Safety is, and always has been, my greatest concern.

Many actions and ideas were brought up throughout the summer that eventually were tabled or decided to not complete due to safety issues. I am certainly not the only person who has had ideas in this movement and it is the height of hypocrisy to claim one person is unsafe, a subjective term at the very least, during a revolutionary movement in which so many engaged in “unsafe” actions.

The accusations against me are a spiteful smear campaign and an attempt to divert attention from their own actions that have created unsafe situations for multiple people

It’s an attempt to lash out and place blame on anyone other than themselves for their actions

I distanced myself from Louisville ARA in Sept/Oct of 2019 and officially left the organization in December 2019, having not been a part of their work for several months

I did not reconnect with members until May 2020, when the movement kicked off

I left Louisville ARA because I witnessed, and was the recipient of, toxic, manipulative, abusive behaviors

I had multiple anxiety attacks due to narcissistic, controlling behaviors

I felt they no longer represented or acted in connection with their supposed points of unity

By doxxing me, they revealed my legal name to the far-right movement - despite pictures of myself on social media, I had been so far undoxxed by the alt/far right

Doxxing of fellow activists is a huge faux pax in the antifascist community

I had not yet been publicly doxxed by anyone

They deadnamed me, as a trans person, by giving far right activists my legal name

This is completely against any sort of socially acceptable standard

Put me, my partner, and my child in danger

This was an act of betrayal, a way to manipulate against someone to cause them hurt and harm.

The lies, manipulation, and mind games existed from the early stages of the movement in May behind my back

Louisville ARA, specifically, manipulated and used me to gain information

They used my connections to people they thought were undesirable to work with as a way to manipulate the movement

Once I became independent of them, I was considered undesirable to work with as well

They fabricated relationships with me as a way to continue to use me for their enjoyment and gain

They have continued to terrorize and threaten me, implying that physical harm would take place, even so far as to stalk me at the memorial for Travis where I was grieving the loss of a friend (who, incidentally, was someone they refused to work with and had no relationship with)

They have consistently engaged in a “my way or the highway” attitude toward relationships and the moment someone doesn’t fall in line, they are ostracized

I truly believed I was in community with them. They took advantage of this to manipulate and abuse me

Louisville Radical Federation has also displayed incredibly abusive and unsafe behavior outside of simply doxxing me:

Cis members of Louisville ARA physically threatening trans people, and when there was push back on it, declared they did not care of it made them transphobic

Stealing untold amounts of money from comrades, including using my debit card without my knowledge or permission after their dox in an attempt to terrorize me

Repeated fatphobic comments and behavior

Openly threatening physical harm on myself and my partner

Making disparaging comments about fellow protesters, houseless folks, organizers (including Black women), and others

Engaging in clique behavior, while mocking those not “in” constantly (and often behind people’s backs)

Refusing to return borrowed items totaling around $500 including my tactical kit and body armor plates

Running abuse survivors out of the movement because the abuser is their friend

Allowing abusers to remain in the community with no accountability process and making excuses for behavior

Constant misgendering of trans folks, often intentionally

Behavior indicating non-binary trans people are not trans or not trans enough to be a part of conversations around the murders of trans folks

Conducting medic trainings with old, outdated, and incorrect information without certification and refusing to correct their inaccuracies when they were pointed out

Actively engaging in gatekeeping, gaslighting, and disrespect toward others, going so far as to claim to others that vouches or recommendations were invalid

Political purity and gatekeeping of the movement

Repeatedly re-escalating dangerous situations during high risk actions that had already been deescalated by Black folks and other protective minded folks

Deliberately choosing to not respond to information about Nazis or local alt-right figures being at bars or other locations, failing to uphold their own points of unity

Lying to therapists, psychiatrists, and other mental health workers to keep from being accountable for actions, behaviors, and abuses

Centering whiteness in conversations about race and racialization

Tokenizing POC and Black people, as well as trans comrades

Gatekeeping trans, POC, and other marginalized communities with standards set by themselves as cis, white folks

Disregarding claims of abuse against individuals in their community, gaslighting survivors

Stalking and harassing former members of the community

Building a reputation of toxic, manipulative, exclusionary behaviors among antifascists circles

Appointing themselves as the authority on antifascism, especially in regards to organizing, being in the streets, and actions

Invalidating the trauma of other antifascists from actions such as Charlottesville

Consistently carrying firearms without proper training or discipline and/or without knowledge of the specific firearm they were carrying

Using their trauma to manipulate others from being actively engaged on the streets when it was needed

Engaging in oppression olympics, especially with a mindset of harmful behavior toward others when they were the most privileged people in the space (having a complex about anyone with more oppression than themselves)

Putting businesses they frequent at risk by bringing in underage people to drink

Hosting parties and events where underage people engaged in drinking and substance use, putting everyone in the space at risk (sometimes without consent)

Stigmatizing certain mental health issues and using them to manipulate others against persons

I am in no way absolving myself of bad, toxic/harmful behavior. I am absolutely guilty of causing harm, of engaging in toxic attitudes, and making very poor judgment calls. We all are toxic. We all have caused harm. We all engage in bad behavior. No one is innocent. Should I be called in about some things, most assuredly. And those who have taken the time to sit with me, to ask questions, to discuss the issues, have not shied away from telling me where I have faulted. If I have made anyone feel unsafe, compromised, and invalid in any way, I want to apologize sincerely and would love the opportunity to do so in person.

A community that supports and believes in itself exercises grace, compassion, transformation, and restoration with itself, with each individual. To intentionally dox, ostracize, and scapegoat a person is not community. It’s not engaging in liberation work. Harm does not fix harm. We will never get free if we can’t free ourselves from the internalized toxicity that each of us has. Liberation is undoing toxic behaviors, not branding someone as unfixable. Liberation is freedom to fuck up and do better. Liberation is grace. Liberation is learning, transforming, restoring. Liberation is who we choose to be, how we choose to live, what we choose to believe in. I chose liberation.

#antifascism #louisville

2 notes · View notes