#Rising Against Asian Hate

[panicinthestudio]

“Rising Against Asian Hate:” Son of Atlanta Spa Shooting Victim Speaks Out, October 18, 2022

The horrific spa shootings that rocked Atlanta in 2021 left eight people dead -- including six Asian women -- and an Asian American community shrouded in grief and fear. A new documentary on PBS.org, "Rising Against Asian Hate," explores the story in searing detail. Executive producer Gina Kim and Robert Peterson -- whose mother was killed in the shootings -- join Hari Sreenivasan to discuss the tragedy and its aftermath.

Amanpour and Company

#amanpour and company #pbs #Rising Against Asian Hate #Gina Kim #Robert Peterson #Atlanta #2021 Atlanta spa shootings #guns #racism #bias #discrimination #objectification #violence #sexism #documentary #hate crime #USA #film #relevant #Youtube

[boldlygoingtohell]

In a weird way, as a Jew, I can kinda take Normal Antisemitism™️.

I mean, I understand where right-wing racists are coming from when it comes to their antisemitism. At the end of the day, theirs just comes from fear, replacement theory, etc… It’s easily identifiable. 2+2=4. Yea its shitty, but I see how they got from A to B and it’s a straight line.

But left-wing antisemitism?? Like, how does that happen? I thought the left was about supporting minority groups, encouraging them to speak and be heard. But all I’m seeing from leftists these days (I myself being super fucking liberal, left, etc…) is just waves and waves of antisemitism. And yes it has to do with Israel, but these people are incapable of criticizing the Israeli government without going “all Jews are responsible!” in the process. It's infuriating.

Are all the the world’s Jews, millions of which live OUTSIDE of Israel, now responsible for Israel’s actions? I'M a stupid American! I’ve never even BEEN to Israel, much less know the intricate details of a geo-political conflict whose complexities go willfully unlearned by armchair activists in favor of yelling in all caps for 140 characters.

But what really gets me, and I mean REALLY get me about the whole situation, is the hypocrisy.

Remember how awful it was when we saw waves of Islamophobic hate crimes after 9/11, American Muslims with no ties to al-Qaeda being targeted for the faith those terrorists claimed to represent?

Or do you remember standing against the wave of anti-Asian hate crimes that was spurned on by COVID falsehoods? The “China virus” as Trump so eloquently put it? You remember being pissed about that, not blaming Asian Americans but standing with them against hate?

And hell, I’ve heard there has been a rash of Islamophobic attacks again because of the Israeli-Gaza conflict. That’s fucking awful, and I will stand against that bull shit because it does not belong here, end of story.

But now there are also antisemitic attacks, hate crimes, being perpetrated around the world. And who are the perpetrators now? The left that stood against everything else. There's no widespread ally-ship for Jews like me. There's no sweeping social media campaign, no catchy hashtag, no ice bucket challenge.

Why am I allowed to be condemned for what a country on the other side of the world is doing, when I have nothing to do with it? Why can I have the finger pointed at me when I don’t want the fighting in the first place? Why must Jews be allowed to be the target of this ire when it's already been decided that other ethnicities/religions don't deserve it either?

Now, I am PROUD to be Jewish; it is my culture, in my heritage, in my literal blood. It is in my genetics, my bones, my spoken language, it is in the holidays I celebrate, the philosophies I live by.

But it is also in the generational trauma of my mother insisting I have a passport as a young child, not because we were traveling, but in case we had to flee. It is in her inherent distrust of the government; a card-carrying Democrat all her life, she would always remind me, "if you don't think the government can't turn on you, you're kidding yourself." It is her constant reminders that as a Jew, our assimilation is conditional, our acceptance is political. I felt these, but never as strongly as she did. Not until now.

I am third generation American, and yet I feel like an outsider in the only country I have ever known. People who I thought understood, who were my friends, who marched with me against the injustices of the world, are now calling after Jews to answer for Israel's actions.

I say I don't want the violence to persist and I'm told that I'm, "one of the good ones". I'm told hurt Israelis don't deserve sympathy because, "all Jews are rich anyway, right? Who cares." I tell them my fears about the rising antisemitism and wearing my star of david necklace out. I'm told, "it doesn't matter, you're white anyway."

For the first time in my life, the racists aren't just some crazy KKK members. They're not just Nazis marching around with beer bellies and ill fitting helmets. It's not just some screeching street preacher who claims I'm going to hell after he caught the glint off my star of david necklace. If needs be, I can kick and punch my way out of those. They're just idiots. Isolated, concentrated incidents. It'd be a good story to tell at a bar the next day though a gap-toothed smile and a sling on my shoulder.

But now, both sides are coming after me and my people. Now, it's not just idiots who have all of their views backwards; it's people I thought I could trust to have my back, to go down swinging with me against those Nazis. Right. Left. It's everywhere. There's no escape.

It's coming from all sides. It's coming from social media platforms, from dinners with friends, from posters on street lamps.

I live in one of the safest, most Jewish neighborhoods in America, and for the first time in my life I am truly scared.

#jumblr #antisemitism #judaism #jewish #I'm just so tired of it all #I wasn't an anxious person before this #racism #long post I guess #can we go back to the days of punching Nazis? #life was simple

[snowviolettwhite]

I just need to rant about the antisemitism in leftist spaces and the erasure and re-writing of Jewish history and heredity from people who claimed to be for marginalized and oppressed people. Because I have no where to let it out. I feel betrayed by the leftists and libels, like I can no longer trust them or feel safe around them, they claimed to care about me and Jewish people but they lied and are out for violence.

You can be for a free Palestinian without antisemitism. Some people are being disgusting with their hatred for Jewish people and wanting the annihilation of the only Jewish state. You can be against corrupt governments but innocent people shouldn't suffer.

People are using what is happening as an excuse to be vocal about their antisemitism. What is more upsetting is the fact the people who consider themselves goodhearted and for the oppressed being disgusting to Jewish people and refusing to see them as human than the right wing conservatives. Because at least I know they are dangerous and they are not hiding behind fancy words and trying to erase and rewrite Jewish history and identity.

The only reason Jewish people are considered "white" is because for thousands and thousands of years the been forced to leave their homes, forced to convert, be raped or be murdered. Another reason is to erase the historical oppression which has been going on for over three thousand years.

Jewish people have not even been considered white for hundred years and depending on where you live in the world Jewish people are still not considered white. In their legal documents it was literally listed that they were Jewish, not Russian. My parents are not even old, they are only in their early 50s. My family is from Soviet Russia and immigrated to the USA in the 1990s. My parents were not considered white in Russia, they would sometimes experience hate crimes and bullying because of their Jewishness multiple times a day. One of the reasons my parents moved to the United States was because it was one of the safest places for Jewish people. After the collapse of the soviet union the violence and antisemitism was a lot worse.

Your blatant antisemitism in the free Palestinian movement is scaring Jewish people away from it and the from left. Fyi, after Black Americans, Jewish Americas are the largest group to vote democrat and be involve in activism according to statistics and history. People are not calling Black American people or Native American people white or mixed even though Christian Europeans did similar things to those groups as well.

Frankly, I personally feel conflicted when I have to check white in a box because it means European descent, my family has no European ancestry. It is most Middle Eastern, West Asian and North African.

Also, we can talk about how Christian Europeans stole the term Caucasian. The actually Caucasus region is in West Asia and Eastern Europe.

Also I want to state Judaism in a ethnoreligion. People who convert to a different religion can still experience antisemitism. People who have Jewish ancestry but raised as a different religion can still experience antisemitism. Non practicing Jewish people can still experience antisemitism. You can change religion but you can not can your ethic background and your family history.

More than one group of people can be indigenous to a certain place.

Jewish people can not talk about just being Jewish without antisemitic comments, recently saw someone claim an anti-Jewish protest was actually a pro-Palestinian protest despite the the leader of the event literal said it was an anti-Jew protest. A pro Palestinian group wanted to hold a protest at the Holocaust Museum and the antisemitism has been on the rise for years.

My grandparent are Holocaust survivors my grandpa was almost killed by a Nazi in his hometown twice, my grandma almost died from the same thing the killed Anne Frank, I had family that was buried alive.

It has not even been hundred years since the holocaust happened, so stop claiming their is such a thing as Jewish privilege. Jewish people are still being murdered and bombed and all these terrible things for being Jewish.

#jewish history #antisemitism #jewish #leftist antisemitism

[97-liners]

royal advisor wonwoo x crown princess reader

themes: royalty au, elements of east asian fantasy but it’s just atmospheric and not plot-relevant, childhood friends to lovers, slight romcom, misunderstandings, awkward loser!wonwoo

words: 9.5k

warnings: centers around a wedding, there’s a creep but he’s not that bad, genre-typical violence is alluded to but not explicitly detailed, and like two swear words

based on this text post of mine:

a royalty au where you’re the heir to the throne and wonwoo is your shy (and lowkey bumbling) royal advisor…. he’s smart and always has his head stuck in a book but he’s also painfully awkward and clueless to how deeply in love with him you are. until your parents decide it’s time for you to get married. and suddenly you’re inundated by suitor after suitor, and wonwoo is quizzing them on their credentials and doubting their suitability for you, this one makes brash political decisions, this one spends too freely, this one has no tact for diplomacy. until one day, you turn to him and ask, “you’ve hated every single one of them. who, then, do you think i should marry?” and wonwoo blushes red and presses his lips together.

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“--military campaigns of the past four years, supplying iron ore and–”

“Guh!” You jerk awake when you feel the gentle tap of an invisible finger against your cheek. Heart pounding, you look to the side to see your advisor, Wonwoo, frowning at you with a spent talisman on his desk. Wonwoo shakes his head very slightly, as if to tell you off for being rude.

The man sitting opposite to you hadn’t noticed the flagrant display of magic or your unceremonious awakening, however, and continues to drone on about politics, or whatever he’s talking about. You can hear cicadas buzzing from the verdant trees outside, and the silk robes layered on your body are starting to feel oppressively heavy in the summer heat. 

You glance to the side again and make eye contact with Wonwoo, this time shooting him a desperate, pleading look. Get me out of here, you scream at him in your mind. Wonwoo rolls his eyes and shrugs, and you take that as permission.

“I apologize, Lord Sui,” you interrupt, folding your hands neatly in your lap, “but I’m afraid I’m not feeling well.” You sway slightly in a show of mock fragility. 

“Oh, of course! Shall I help you back to your chambers?” He reaches across the table and places a hand on your arm, and you fight back the urge to grimace at the uninvited touch. From the corner of your eye, you see Wonwoo stiffen. “Allow me to assist you, your highness.”

“No need,” Wonwoo interrupts, rising to his feet. “I’ll escort her back to her chambers. Thank you for your visit, Lord Sui.” Your advisor bows politely, the very picture of decorum, but you can hear the irritated edge to his voice. 

“Of course,” Lord Sui frowns. He doesn’t remove his hand from your arm, however, so you gently extract yourself from his grasp and stand, nodding your head in his direction. Lord Sui looks up at you hopefully. “I’ll be seeing you tomorrow then, I hope–”

“Safe travels back,” you interrupt, folding your hands in front of your stomach. “I hope you were well-served by my staff.”

Lord Sui looks like he’s about to swear at you, and you raise your eyebrows at him expectantly. A second passes, before Lord Sui is lowering his head again into a deep bow. “This humble one thanks your highness for her audience,” he says, gritting his teeth like he’s tasting something unpleasant.

Later on while you’re walking through the gardens accompanied by Wonwoo, your heavy outer robes tossed over his arm, you ask him, “so, Scholar Jeon, what do you think about this one? Yes or no, should I marry him?”

Wonwoo laughs, a quiet, deep chuckle. “You made your disinterest very clear with your rudeness, I think.”

“I did, but I’m asking you.” You trail your fingertips along the decorative stone formations along the path, not caring if your white inner robes get dusty. The two of you are taking the long way back to your chambers, because the weather really is too lovely not to. It’s days like this when you really miss the freedom of your youth, when a perfect summer afternoon like this would have been spent sparring on the training grounds, or with the other children on the roof of the library shooting down kites with bows and cotton-tipped arrows. 

“He was rude and pompous,” Wonwoo replies. “His grasp of military strategy is cursory at best, and his grasp of court etiquette is even worse. He touched you without permission,” he says, sounding very offended on your behalf at the last bit. “He’s lucky your father wasn’t present, or he’d be missing his hand.”

“I suppose this is what I get for rejecting all the good ones,” you smile crookedly. “We’re really scraping the bottom of the barrel with these ones. How many suitors have I rejected this summer already?”

“Lord Sui is the twenty ninth,” Wonwoo supplies.

“Twenty ninth rejection in a row,” you laugh. “No thanks to you, Scholar Jeon,” you glance at him. For the past four months, even if you haven’t personally turned them away, each of your suitors have been systematically dissected by Wonwoo’s sharp eye, sometimes even in front of the court. Each of their personal and political failings, no matter how minuscule, laid in front of them like a bill of faults. Nothing escapes Wonwoo.

“I want to make sure your suitors are of satisfactory quality,” Wonwoo replies.

“With your standards, I think you’re overestimating the position of my potential consort,” you scoff.

“It’s not just the prince consort,” Wonwoo says quietly. “It’s your husband. I think you deserve something better than what you’ve been offered so far.”

You soften at his tone. “Who, then, Jeon Wonwoo?” You turn toward him, halting in the middle of the jasmine-scented pavilion you find yourself in.  “Who would you let me marry?”

At this, Wonwoo doesn’t reply. 

Looking up at him, you plead silently with your eyes. Please, see me. See how I look at you, how I adore and admire you, Wonwoo. See how I love you. But for all his endless brilliance, your advisor still remains blind to this one thing. 

“What about you, then, Wonwoo,” you press. Wonwoo averts his gaze when you take a step towards him. “If I were to marry someone like you… or if I were to marry you–”

“You flatter me, your highness,” Wonwoo interrupts you. He bows, deeply. “This humble scholar thanks her highness for her kindness.”

Your heart falls as he shifts into formal language. His voice is distant, cold.

“But,” he adds quietly, rising from the bow, “you needn’t bother yourself with such kindness. I’m simply doing my job.”

“A-alright,” you say. Despite the summer heat, you suddenly feel too exposed, like you’re undressed in the middle of the pavilion. “You… you can take your leave now.” You hold out your arms for your robes, and Wonwoo hands them to you, maintaining careful distance.

“Thank you,” Wonwoo bows again, still speaking in formal language. 

You can’t help but to shake the sinking feeling in your stomach and the regret that bubbles up. Why did you have to bring it up? Look, your brain supplies unhelpfully, you’ve scared him off again.

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Wonwoo is used to watching you– after all, he’s been doing it since the two of you were children. Wonwoo, the son of your childhood tutor, accompanied you and the other royal children as you took your lessons. For as long as he can remember, the two of you have been as different from each other as two people could be.

Wonwoo had always been a weak and sickly child. He spent much of his time reading, holed up in the library and watching as you and the young lord Kim Mingyu would play outside in the afternoons after classes had adjourned. Wonwoo watched as you climbed trees and swung wooden swords and shot down apples with pebbles. And a few years later, Wonwoo also watched quietly from the side as you picked up your first real sword, saw the awestruck expression on your face as you admired the glint of steel in the sunlight. He was there the first time you fell off a horse, the first time you won an archery competition, the first time you cast a spell, and he was there when Mingyu received his army commission and all you could do was cry while your best friend rode off, a general in shining armor, while you were locked in a gilded cage and forbidden from picking up a weapon ever again. 

And for as long as he can remember, Wonwoo has been in love with you. After all, how could he not? You shine, like the sun, and Wonwoo can’t help but to turn toward you and hope that some of your light falls on him.

Wonwoo remembers the way his heart thudded in his chest, clumsy and heavy against his ribcage, that night years ago when you appeared outside his door for the first time. He had been awakened by frantic knocking and when he opens his door, it’s you, holding a book in your hands. Your geopolitics tutor had given you assigned reading, and you just can’t seem to understand it, you explain, pushing your loose hair behind your ears. Your father had asked you to attend negotiations tomorrow, and you couldn’t think of anyone else who would help you, so here you are, still dressed in your robes from the day, standing in front of Wonwoo.

And when you drop to your knees to beg, Wonwoo’s heart drops too, because here you are, the princess, the future ruler, begging him to help you understand some ancient treatises. Before he knows it, he’s on his knees too, pleading for you to get up, because it’s not right– he can’t have a royal lowering themself in front of him, nothing but a commoner. 

That very night as he helps you study and prepare for the upcoming day of meetings, Wonwoo has a realization: if he can’t give you his love, at least not in the light, he can at least give you his devotion. Throughout the years, as your personal scribe, as your assistant, and now as your official primary advisor, Wonwoo has devoted every breath, every heartbeat to serving you. 

And occasionally, Wonwoo can fool himself into thinking that devotion is enough.

These days, it’s become a habit for the two of you to take tea in the peony gardens after your father holds court. You’ve grown into your position now, with more grace than anybody ever expected from you, and now you sit behind your father as he listens to the grievances of the commoners and negotiates with dignitaries. As usual, you keep Wonwoo with you at all times, and later over cups of tea and flower-scented sweets, the two of you discuss the happenings of the day. 

It’s on one of these afternoons when the quiet peace that Wonwoo has made for himself is broken and the illusion falls away. There’s footsteps, the sounds of metal against leather, the jingling of steel, and then through the garden gates steps a soldier. 

But it’s not just any soldier. Wonwoo recognizes that face in an instant— it’s Kim Mingyu, back from war after all these years. In an instant, you’ve jumped to your feet, the conversation and tea forgotten. Without a second thought to the delicate silks that float across your body or the jewels and flowers in your hair, like you’re a teenager again, rough and wild, you run across the garden and throw yourself into Kim Mingyu’s arms.

And once again, Wonwoo finds himself watching, lingering in silence, like a shadow. Wonwoo watches the way Mingyu’s tanned face splits into a radiant smile, the way his broad body fills out the ceremonial armor, the worn and well-used grip of his sword, the thin red scar that runs between the knuckles of his left hand and disappears under the edge of his leather vambrace. 

Wonwoo watches, and he knows, with a sinking feeling, that this is it. Of course it was always going to end like this. How could he blame you for loving brave, dashing, charming Mingyu? Mingyu, the war hero with noble blood running through his veins? 

And Wonwoo? He’s just a commoner, he’s nothing special. He doesn’t deserve you, and to even hope… to even begin to imagine a world in which you could love him back…

Wonwoo smiles to himself as he pours himself another cup of tea. He must have been delusional. 

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You know you shouldn’t be doing this. It’s against the rules, but it’s Mingyu, and how could you resist?

It’s been years since you last sparred with him, years since you last picked up your sword with intent, even. The muscle memory comes quickly, and you manage to parry a quick blow from your best friend, but your movements are sluggish and labored and your arms are already aching. It seems like Mingyu notices how out of practice you are, because he instantly shifts into a more relaxed stance and his movements become wider, easier. You grit your teeth, half wanting to chastise him for going easy on you, but then again, your teenage years are long behind you. 

“Eat shit, Mingyu,” It feels good to cuss at him. It’s probably been years since the last time you swore, too. 

“I missed this,” Mingyu says, grinning as he slashes with a light flick of his wrist. You block, again, but the action sends shockwaves up your arm. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were visiting?” Your swords clash again as he deflects your blow without even sparing an extra glance your way.

“Wanted it to be a surprise,” he grunts. “Your mother wrote.”

“My– my mother,” you frown, knowing where this is leading.

“She wanted me to come home. Asked me to court you, officially,” Mingyu sighs, easily tossing his sword from his right to his left hand. You prepare yourself as he adjusts his grip on his dominant hand, and then he strikes. You don’t block it fast enough. The flat of his blade bounces off the simple leather training armor you’re wearing, but it’s a heavy enough blow that it knocks the breath out of your lungs.

You wheeze. “You can’t be serious, Mingyu,” you laugh humorlessly as you fall onto your butt, sword held loosely in your hand. From the edge of your vision, you see a royal attendant move forward, undoubtedly ready to administer whatever medical aid they think you need, but you hold out a hand, stopping him in his steps. “That will be all,” you call out to the servants surrounding the training fields, indicating that you wish to be left alone. “You’re all dismissed.”

Mingyu joins you on the dusty ground, crossing his legs daintily and resting his sword across his lap. “She personally granted me three months of leave. I think she wants everything to be wrapped up by the Moon Festival.”

“I can’t believe she still hasn’t given up on…” you wrinkle your nose, “us.”

Mingyu just shrugs. “Maybe her highness is getting impatient. I’ve heard stories about all your suitors, even up north at the outposts.”

“Then,” you reply testily, “you must have heard about how they were all summarily rejected.”

Your best friend nods, his lips cracking into a grin. “Absolutely humiliated Lord Gui, I heard.”

“He shouldn’t have challenged me to an archery competition for my hand if he didn’t want to be humiliated,” you snort, rather impolitely. “I’m glad stories of his humiliations have traveled all the way to the border, though. It’s what he deserves.”

“What kind of man courts a princess by challenging her to an archery competition, anyway?” 

You shrug. “Clearly the other approach didn’t work.” There had been gifts, chests full of silk and jewelry that you didn’t glance twice at. “One of them even wrote a poem about me. It was terrible.”

“What, you’re a poetry expert now?” Mingyu scoffs, and you extend your leg to kick his ankle in retaliation.

“Didn’t you hear? I’m cultured now. I’m being personally advised by the best poet to come out of the capital in decades.”

“Ah.” Mingyu tilts his head in the direction of the palace. “What about Scholar Jeon, then?”

“What about him?”

“Has he submitted his name for consideration yet?” Mingyu asks the question as easily as if he were asking what’s for lunch. 

The question gives you pause. What about him, then? “Wonwoo, he…” pursing your lips, you look down and pick at the hem of your training robes. “I don’t think…”

“What, you don’t think he’s just as besotted with you as you are with him?” You don’t have to look up to know that Mingyu is rolling his eyes. “Come on, your highness, be serious.”

“I am serious!” You glare at him and kick him again. 

Mingyu whines and withdraws his leg, looking at you with big petulant eyes. “Me too!”

“I asked him if he would be satisfied if I married someone like him, and he just… thanked me and spoke to me in formal language. It was terrible.” You grimace at the memory.

Mingyu scratches the top of his head. “Yeah, that’s pretty bad,” he admits. “Uh, have you considered that maybe he’s just awkward? Like, really, really awkward? And maybe a bit dull, too.”

“He’s smarter than you are,” you scoff, and Mingyu is quick to put a hand up in surrender.

“You’re right, he’s cleverer and wiser than I am, but when it comes to matters of the heart, it’s like watching a foal learning to walk,” Mingyu grimaces. “It’s terrible. The secondhand embarrassment gives me heartburn. But, if you trust me, you’ll believe me when I tell you that your feelings are returned.”

“That’s the problem, Gyu,” you sigh. “I do trust you, and I do believe that, but Wonwoo, he just.. Won’t open up to me. I can’t… I can’t do this if he’s terrified of me.”

“I think you should talk to him. Frankly and honestly. Throw away all the decorum,” Mingyu says, “and just tell him how you feel.”

“You say that like it’s easy.” You pick up your sword again, driving it into the group and using it as leverage to pull yourself back up. Your whole body smarts and the palm of your sword hand is stinging where you know there are blisters.

“Do it,” Mingyu stands easily and dusts himself off. “At least do it for me, so your mother will stop haranguing me,” he wrinkles his nose. 

“Fine, alright, I’ll do it,” you huff, “but give me some time.”

“Promise?”

You hold out your pinky. Like you were children again, Mingyu links his pinky with yours, sealing the promise with a press of his thumb against yours. It’s not a contract, there’s no magic binding the deal, but it’s enough that Mingyu relaxes a bit, shoulders slumping. 

“Good,” he says, “I’m tired of the two of you dancing around each other.”

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Wonwoo is one of the few people in this entire palace complex that has access to your chambers 24 hours a day. It’s cause for whispers and glances, but you insist on it, and nobody dares to publicly question the character of the crown princess anyway.

Tonight, he carries with him a wooden lunch box filled with various summer pastries, cut and molded into delicate flower shapes. You hadn’t taken your dinner tonight, Wonwoo noticed, because you had been preoccupied with reports of failed crops in the southern river delta. It’s late, and most of the palace lights have been dimmed, so Wonwoo carries with him a lantern as well. 

The wooden walkways are normally deserted, this part of the palace being off-limits to most staff, but there’s someone standing outside the doors of your quarters. Wonwoo frowns, footsteps slowing as he raises his lantern and casts the scene into light— a man, hunched forward and whispering to a maid. Something sparkles gold in his hands.

“-can’t,” the maid’s voice drifts as her tone rises in pitch, “unless you have the seal of her highness yourself, I can’t let you— Scholar Jeon!” Her face softens in relief as she makes eye contact with Wonwoo over the man’s shoulder. “Scholar Jeon, this person is trying to enter Her Highness’s chambers!”

The man turns around, and Wonwoo’s face sours into a scowl. “Lord Sui,” Wonwoo says flatly. “I thought the royal palace had sent you away.”

“It must have been a mistake,” he replies, straightening himself and fixing his robes. “The princess wasn’t in her right mind. I’m here to talk to her. You,” he points his finger at Wonwoo, “Scholar, is it? I trust you’ll have more sense than this maid here— unlock this door for me right this instant!”

“Apologies,” Wonwoo dips his head in a semblance of propriety, “but I can’t let you in without express permission from the princess.”

“What permission do I need,” he snaps, “I’m the Lord of the Chujie territory and I’m courting the crown princess. What right do you, a servant, have to be questioning me?”

Wonwoo doesn’t flinch. Instead, he sighs slowly, suppressing the enraged trembling of his hands as he pitches his voice low and cold and repeats, “I can’t let you in without express permission from the princess.”

“What makes you think you can speak for Y/N?” 

Lord Sui’s lips curl in a snarl, and Wonwoo’s patience runs out. “You,” he says steadily and quietly, dripping with derision, “are not qualified to say her name.” He takes a step forward. “You are not qualified to speak to her or to set your dirty eyes on her, much less touch her.”

Lord Sui sputters, red-faced, “w-who do you think you are?”

“You’re lucky the princess, with her endless mercy, only sent you away after what you did last time,” Wonwoo continues, stone-faced. “If it were up to me, you would be missing the hand you touched her with right now.”

Pulling himself up to his full height, Wonwoo glares at Lord Sui with all the venom he can muster. “Now get out of my sight,” he spits, “before I call the guards on you and have you thrown in the dungeons.”

Wonwoo can feel the adrenaline running through his veins. He’s never spoken to anyone like this, much less a member of nobility, but something in him fills him with a rush of defiance.

Lord Sui turns puce. He opens his mouth, sucking in a breath. But, before he can get the words out or his mouth, his lips clamp shut. 

“Mmmf—“ Lord Sui lets out a strangled yell, hands flying up to his neck in disbelief.

“That’s enough,” you say quietly, sliding open your door with your maid in tow. You’re dressed in only your nightclothes with your hair loose, but you’re gripping your personal sword tightly in your hand. “Lord Sui,” you dip your head slightly, “I apologize for my rudeness, but it’s late and I’m not receiving guests.”

“Mmmf-mmmgh!”

“Ah, yes, it was me who sealed your mouth.” You hold up a used talisman, the paper dissolving into ash between your fingers. “I hope you’ll forgive my transgression. The spell will expire in the time it takes for a stick of incense to burn. I’ve called the guards already.” 

You turn toward Wonwoo, and suddenly the lantern and wooden lunch box feel heavy in his hands. “Come inside, Scholar Jeon.”

Lord Sui makes an outraged noise, but his lips remain sealed. 

“Safe travels,” you nod again at him as you usher Wonwoo in through the door. “Thank you,” you smile at your maid, “that will be all tonight.” 

“Wait, no, I was just going to drop these off,” Wonwoo tries to object, but then you’re tugging him across the stone tiled courtyard by the sleeve. Wonwoo feels his throat close up, like he’s having an allergic reaction— he’s never seen you in such an intimate appearance before. Your brow is damp and Wonwoo can almost feel the rose-scented steam wafting off your skin. You’ve clearly just emerged from a bath. 

“Come on, I know you’re worried about what this looks like,” you laugh, “but worry not, nobody is going to question the crown princess’s maidenhood without risking their neck. Especially after you just defended my honor like that.”

At that, Wonwoo flushes red, all the way down his neck. “That’s not what I meant,” he mumbles uselessly. 

“Come in! You shouldn’t have, really,” you say as you open the door to your private quarters and take the food out of Wonwoo’s hands. “Here, sit and eat.”

“They’re for you,” Wonwoo sputters, but you’re busying yourself frantically cleaning up your bedroom, fluttering like a moth around the walls. 

“Sorry about the state of this,” you grab a handful of half-written letters and shove them haphazardly into a box under your desk. There’s a forgotten pot of tea on your desk and the remains of a few sticks of incense in a porcelain brazier, which you hurriedly shove the lid onto. 

“You didn’t eat dinner,” Wonwoo tries to explain, but all of his previous confidence is gone now and his voice fails him. “I brought you food. I thought you’d be hungry.”

“Wonwoo,” you turn toward him with an expression of disbelief plastered across your face, “you can’t be serious. You were with me all evening. You didn’t eat dinner either. We’ll be eating together.”

“But—“

“I know there’s a rule against that, but I don’t really care,” you grin, laughing as you slide into a seat at the table in the center of the room. There’s a small stack of novels haphazardly pushed against the edge of the table, and as Wonwoo hesitantly takes his seat across from you, he catches the title of the one on top.

“‘The Cruel Emperor’s Requite, Volume 3’,” he observes drily.

“Oh,” you laugh nervously, clearly embarrassed. The wooden lid of the lunch box clatters against the table as you start removing the dishes inside. “I asked Mingyu to sneak me the latest volume. They’re… salacious, to say the least, but it’s a fun read, and I’ve been hooked by the plot.”

At that, Wonwoo resists the urge to tilt forward and slam his head against the table. The mention of your best friend has his stomach churning with ill-suppressed jealousy, and the thought that Mingyu has been delivering bawdy romance novels to you? 

You lean across the table to place a tiny delicate porcelain cup in front of him and you fill it halfway with pale yellow tea. “The leaves are spring maojian, brought to the capital from the mountains last month. Here,” you place a dish next to the tea, “have an osmanthus cake.”

The lamps in your private quarters are warm and bright behind white paper shades, and Wonwoo can still smell the perfumed bathwater in the air. When you dip your head to sip your tea, giving Wonwoo a glimpse at the slope of your shoulders and the way the little hairs at the back of your neck stick to your damp skin, Wonwoo feels like he’s about to explode. 

“Wonwoo?” You tilt your head and peer into his blank face. “Are you alright?”

“Uh,” Wonwoo responds intelligently. 

“Try some of this tea,” you say, and because the part of Wonwoo’s brain that’s normally in charge of forming sentences is currently mush, he shuts up and drinks the tea. 

When he looks up at you again, you’re wearing an apprehensive expression on your face. You twist your fingers in the hem of your sleeves, winding and unwinding the silk tape around your hands. It’s an anxious habit, Wonwoo recognizes. “Um, Wonwoo,” you begin haltingly, “do you remember when we were twelve and I fell out of a tree and died for a few minutes before Master Liu summoned my spirit and put me back in my body?”

Wonwoo nods. He remembers it vividly. You had been shooting down kites with the other children, and one of them had landed in the upper boughs of one of the pine trees outside the library. Of course you, brave, reckless, had volunteered to retrieve it. Wonwoo remembers sitting at the window, a book in his lap, and watching as you scaled the ancient tree. And he doesn’t think he can ever forget the sound of branches cracking, the small scream and the sickening thud of your body landing on the grass below. 

As soon as he realized what had happened, his mind had gone fuzzy with panic, because you were laying there, so small, broken, and Wonwoo was just a child but he had to do something. So, he slid out the window and as soon as his feet hit the ground below, he was running toward you, panicked tears prickling at his eyes as he called your name.

“You gave me a protective charm,” you tell him hesitantly. Wonwoo remembers reaching into his robes and grabbing the jade tablet, pulling so hard that the cord hanging it around his neck snapped, and placing it in your hands. It wasn’t a powerful charm— it was just the simple kind given to children to protect them from danger, and Wonwoo knows now as an adult trained in magic that it wouldn’t have done anything. But as a twelve year old child, it was all he could think of when faced with your unconscious body and the blood seeping through your robes. 

“Wonwoo,” you begin quietly, reaching a hand under the collar of your robes, “I’ve worn it every day for thirteen years.” And then you pull out that jade tablet, carved into the shape of gnarled peach boughs and inscripted with tiny runes. 

Wonwoo blinks. “You kept it? It… it’s not…” he licks away the dryness on his lips, and tries again. “I can have an artificer prepare something much more powerful for you if you’d like, your highness.”

Immediately, Wonwoo knows that he’s said something wrong, because you look sad as you tuck the jade tablet back under your collar where it rests against the bare skin of your chest. “No, Wonwoo,” you shake your head, “that’s not the point. I don’t wear it for protection. I wear it because you gave it to me when I was dying.” 

Something hurts in Wonwoo’s chest. He supposes that this is what unrequited love does to a person— it squeezes at his heart, twisting until every last drop has been pressed out. Wonwoo is so in love, he thinks he could drown in it.

“Um. So.” You chew your lower lip anxiously. “Wonwoo, you know that I value your presence in my life very much, don’t you?”

Wonwoo stares at you. 

His lack of response doesn’t faze you. “Wonwoo, can I tell you something?”

Oh no. This is the part where you break Wonwoo’s heart, where you tell him that you’ll be marrying Kim Mingyu and living happily ever after, without Wonwoo. 

“I have to go,” Wonwoo blurts out, clumsily rising to his feet. 

“Huh?” Your mouth is slack and your eyes are round. “But your tea—“

“I have… I just remembered, I need to send some letters,” Wonwoo says lamely, offering you the worst excuse of all time. He cringes at your incredulous expression- you’re clearly not fooled.

“At this time of night?!”

“I have to go!” And then Wonwoo is making his way through your courtyard as fast as he can without inciting suspicion. He walks and walks, furiously keeping his face impassive, until he locks himself in his room and collapses face-first into his bed and lays there, motionless, wallowing in misery and self-pity, until he falls asleep.

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It was supposed to just be a regular ride in the royal woods. You’re not even dressed for a hunt, and you’re supposed to have tea with your grandmother, the empress dowager, this afternoon, but of course when Mingyu is involved, nothing can go as planned.

Three hours after you depart for a leisurely morning ride, the two of you return, muddy and exhausted, with a dismembered wyvern carcass split between your horses. You’re scowling and Mingyu is pouting, and the monster flesh is starting to attract flies in the heat.

“I hate you so much, Mingyu,” you scowl, swatting away a fly attempting to land on your gore-spattered cheek, “if we just left the wyvern where we killed it—“

“C'mon, what kind of hunter doesn’t take their catch home,” he immediately whines.

“We have grounds staff for that! Just dismembering the carcass took us most of an hour!” The two of you are approaching the stables now, and you’re acutely aware of the horrified stares of the servants who are unfortunate enough to have been standing along the path. You reach up to wipe at your face with your sleeve, but you only succeed in smearing the monster blood sprayed across your face. 

“Whatever,” Mingyu rolls his eyes. “I‘ll be competing in the exhibitions for the moon festival, we’ll see who’s laughing then.”

“I’m not even laughing now, I’m just—“ you look around and lower your voice before continuing, trying to at least pretend to act the part of the princess, “I’m just pissed that you went behind my back and made a mistake and now you’re putting an arbitrary countdown on my relationships!”

(Right. That was the whole reason Mingyu had asked you to go riding with him in the morning, before it ever came to monster-hunting and butchery.

When you set off with your best friend, you have a quiver full of arrows and a freshly re-stringed bow, and the woods are misty following the previous night’s rainfall. “I don’t know how many strings you had to pull to get me alone,” you grin. “What’s the plan? Do you want to hunt pheasants, or do you just want to ride?”

“Um,” Mingyu scratches the back of his head. He looks nervous, which is never a good sign. “About that.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Mingyu?”

He looks to the side, avoiding eye contact like a guilty dog. “So. The reason I was able to get you alone. I have something to confess.”

“Mingyu!” You tug on the reins and bring your horse to a stop, dawning horror spreading across your face. “What did you do!”

“I might have…” he chews his lip, before blurting it all out, “I might have accidentally thrown my hat in the ring.”

“What?” You blink at him, dreading his response.

“Your father requested a private audience with me yesterday, and I was nervous because I was alone with the emperor!” Your best friend’s voice pitched up in a near hysterical whine. “I thought he was going to send me and my men out west, but instead he told me that court etiquette typically required a gift of ten taels of gold but he’d waive that for me, and…”

“…and?”

To his credit, Mingyu looks distraught. “And I thanked him and accepted his offer! And now… and now your mother thinks I’m taking you on a ride to court you.”

You feel a dull headache beginning to throb behind your brow. “Kim Mingyu, you need to go to my father and withdraw your proposal. My mother would never let me refuse.” 

“I’m sorry,” he whimpers, “but I’m scared your father is going to throw me in a dungeon, or worse, into an administrative job.”

“I’ll make sure you get smuggled back into the army with a new identity if he does,” you tell him, but his expression doesn’t change. 

“You need to tell them, today, that you’re going to marry Jeon Wonwoo,” he whispers even though the two of you are the only ones in the vicinity. 

You choke on air. “W-what are you talking about?!”

“Tomorrow,” he explains, “is when he’s bringing the matter to the court. And that’s when it’ll be publicly announced.” 

“I can’t just spring this on Wonwoo,” you sputter at him, “it’s not fair for him either!”

“Then what are you going to do? Let him learn about it himself tomorrow when it’s announced?”

“I’m going to talk to my father myself,” you tell him, full of confidence, “and stop all of this. Nothing will change between me and Wonwoo.”)

The moment you see Wonwoo, however, your confidence falls away and your plan completely leaves your head. He turns away from his conversation with a stable hand when he hears the sound of hooves. First, he sees Mingyu, and furrows his brow. And then he sees you, covered in blood, and his face falls with abject horror.

“What did you do,” he hisses, turning on Mingyu and fixing a glare on him.

“I swear, it’s not my fault,” Mingyu blabbers, clambering off his horse. You’re already on your feet leading your horse to the stable hand when you hear the edge to Wonwoo’s voice and realize that he’s truly pissed. 

“What do you mean it’s not your fault,” he hisses, “you’re supposed to be the soldier here, why is her highness covered in blood?!”

“I can hear you talking about me,” you remark, crossing your arms. “I’m fine. It’s not my blood.”

“It’s not– that doesn’t help,” Wonwoo sputters, ears flushing pink. “You’re still covered in blood!”

“I need to get washed off, Wonwoo, I need to request an audience with my father,” you tell him. You grab his wrist and start making your way back to your quarters. He stumbles a little bit but quickly manages to regain his footing.

“What are you talking about? Your father isn’t receiving any visitors today,” Wonwoo tells you as he follows behind you, letting himself be pulled by the wrist. 

“It’s urgent!” The deeper into the palace complex you go, the more stares the two of you receive— you, the princess, dirty and covered in dried blood, dragging your respected advisor behind you.

“What is it? He’s resting for the evening, but I can bring it up Minister Choi this evening if you need.”

“It’s not… it’s nothing that Minister Choi can help with,” you sigh miserably. 

“Tell me what you need help with, then.” Wonwoo furrows his brows, an expression of concern written across his face. “Anything you need.”

Chewing on your lip, you make the sudden decision to take a sharp detour through the chrysanthemum gardens and into a narrow walkway into a secluded part of the garden, behind a cluster of trees and some large decorative rocks.

You stop abruptly, and Wonwoo, caught off guard, walks right into you. 

“Ouch,” he mumbles quietly, rubbing at the spot in his shoulder where one of your hairpins jabbed him. 

“Wonwoo.” You twist anxiously at the ties of your riding robes. “Um. I don’t know if you’ve heard about this. Maybe there have been rumors, or maybe not.”

“What are you talking about?”

He’s watching you, carefully, almost like he’s afraid of you. 

Impatient, your swordsmanship master used to chide you. Your greatest strength, when it comes to armed combat, is also your greatest weakness— you’re too reckless, you act too quickly. You think you know what your opponent’s next move will be, and sometimes you’re right, but sometimes you’re wrong.

“Kim Mingyu is courting me,” you tell Wonwoo, the words directly bypassing your brain as they emerge from your mouth. “He spoke to my father yesterday, and it’s going to be official tomorrow.”

Wonwoo stares at you, silent.

“I can’t marry Kim Mingyu,” you continue, voice rising in volume, not caring about eavesdroppers in your panic. “I can’t marry him, because I’m already in love with someone else.”

“Oh,” Wonwoo says, and for a split second, you think he’s going to argue. But then he schools his expression back into the placid mask that he wears every day in court, your faithful Scholar Jeon. 

“I’ll send for some servants to draw a bath for you,” he says, bowing deeply. And then, without looking up at your face, he turns and walks away from you, leaving you speechless and with the deep sinking feeling that you just made a huge mistake. 

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That night, Wonwoo has a dream. It’s not just a dream, though, it’s a memory— one that he’s re-lived in his head so many times, it still feels as fresh as the day it happened.

It’s ten years ago. It’s your fifteenth summer, and Wonwoo’s sixteenth. You’re still a little too loud, a little too brash— a child, still, not yet burdened with the responsibility of the title of Crown Princess. You had spent all summer sparring with Mingyu, hunting low-level monsters in the woods, and practicing your archery.

It’s the morning of the annual hunt, a chance for noble cultivators across the kingdom to show off their skills, and you’re finally old enough to participate. The only event that the administrators would let you compete in was the archery competition, so you had practiced for weeks, until your fingertips were bloody and your vision blurred.

Wonwoo sits with his father at the side, along with all the other spectators, hands folded neatly in his lap. He watches as you line up with the other contestants and raise your bow, knock your arrow, and draw back the string. 

And then, you hesitate and lower the bow. Wonwoo sees you turn your head to the crowd, eyes moving back and forth, like you’re searching for something— until your eyes lock with Wonwoo’s. There’s no question about it, Wonwoo knows you’re looking directly at him. You’re terrified, he realizes. And so Wonwoo does what he can, and he smiles at you, something small but reassuring, or at least, as reassuring as he can make a smile. 

When you see the smile, you exhale slowly, visibly relaxing. And then you turn back to the target, bow raised and drawn, sharp eyes focused on the target, and you let your arrow fly.

It lands in the center of the target. A perfect shot.

The air shifts and swims, glittering like sunlight does when it shines through leafy branches, and then Wonwoo’s dream changes into something else, another memory. This one is even clearer— it’s replayed in Wonwoo’s mind thousands of times since it happened, sitting in his thoughts, heavy, like a stone weighing on paper.

It’s the night of your twentieth moon festival. The first chill of autumn is starting to permeate the air, cutting through Wonwoo’s fancy new robes that you had ordered for him just for the event. It’s his first year as your personal scribe, barely three months after your father had given you the title of crown princess and officially designated you as his heir. 

The whole palace is celebrating the feast in the banquet halls, but Wonwoo is standing with you on the roof of one of the minor pavilions away from the festivities. The full harvest moon is bright and warm, almost gold tonight. The tiles beneath Wonwoo’s feet are slippery, but you promised him earlier that he wouldn’t fall, and he can’t bring himself to be too worried. Not when you’re smiling at him like that.

In your hands, you hold a paper lantern that Wonwoo had painted with a pair of white rabbits earlier. Wonwoo holds a matching lantern, painted with a pair of wood ducks frolicking near some reeds. 

“Let’s release them together in three,” you whisper, grinning in the flickering light of the lantern, “two, one.”

You let go of the bamboo scaffold and laugh in delight as it rises, floating into the silvery night. Wonwoo releases his lantern too, and watches as it hangs in the air for a moment before being caught by the wind to join yours.

“Wonwoo, you have to make a wish.” 

I wish we could be like this forever, Wonwoo thinks. He looks down at you, at your closed eyes and clasped hands held to your lips. He’s so fond of you, it aches. 

“I wish for the health and safety of the kingdom,” you murmur against your fingers. “May our lands be blessed by the Goddess of Mercy.” You open your eyes and look up at him. “What did you wish for?”

Wonwoo grins crookedly. “I’m not telling you.”

“Fine,” you laugh. You’re twisting your fingers into your sleeves. “Wonwoo,” you say softly, taking a step closer to him. Wonwoo’s breath catches in his chest— you’re so close, he can smell your rose-scented bath powders on your skin. 

“Yes, your highness?”

“We’re… we’re friends, aren’t we?” There’s an edge of uncertainty in your voice. A hint of something fragile.

“Of course,” Wonwoo replies. Then, in a softer voice, he says your name— your personal name, the one that you haven’t been called by in public since you were a child. It’s the name Wonwoo only calls you in private, away from the formalities of palace life. 

You bite your lip. “Wonwoo, can I ask for a wish from you?”

Anything, Wonwoo thinks. Anything for you. But what he says is, “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Can…” you suck in a deep breath, like you’re gathering your courage, “can you kiss me?”

For a moment, Wonwoo feels like his heart has stopped. His mind is racing, a thousand thoughts a second. There has to be an explanation, something logical. You’re the crown princess, you’re kept under careful watch, scrutinized wherever you go, Wonwoo reminds himself. At an age where most people are flirting, giving and receiving gifts and engaging in late-night dalliances, you’ve been locked up in the palace. It’s only natural that you would want to experiment, and Wonwoo is likely the only person your age that you trust. 

It’s an explanation that makes sense. It’s solid— at least, solid enough for Wonwoo, so he acquiesces. 

Your eyes are closed and your lips are slightly parted, like you’re wishing on a lantern again, waiting. Wonwoo leans forward and carefully brushes his lips against yours, like the faint touch of a dandelion seed, barely perceptible. 

He tries to withdraw, but you reach out and fist your hands in the front of his robes, almost desperate. You open your eyes and look up at him dazedly. “Again,” you whisper. It’s an order, but Wonwoo would have complied even if he wasn’t your personal scribe and you weren’t the crown princess.

He kisses you, this time firmer. It’s not like the careful touch of his lips against yours before. This time, you kiss him back and press into him, warm and soft, searching, hungry. Wonwoo’s head swims. He can feel his heart thudding in his chest as his mind is emptied and replaced only with the way you taste, the way you feel, you, you, you.

No. No, this is wrong. Wonwoo breaks the kiss and takes a step back, gasping sharply as he regains control of his senses. Suddenly, the air feels a little too hot and the rooftop feels a bit too exposed. 

“I—,” Wonwoo’s voice breaks in his panic, all words leaving him. “I, uh,” he stammers.

You’re still looking up at him with that dazed, almost drunken expression on your face. “Wonwoo,” you say his name like a request. “Wonwoo.”

His brain starts working again, and immediately, it begins to panic, filling every inch of Wonwoo with anxiety and dread. This is all wrong. “Thank you, your highness,” he bows, automatically shifting into formal speech. “I’ll take my leave.” The moment the words come out of his mouth, he’s already cursing himself in his head. Dumbass. He couldn’t be any more awkward if he tried. 

Wonwoo scrambles off the rooftop, cheeks pink, heart pounding as he leaves. He’s almost out of the courtyard when he looks back at you one last time over his shoulder. You’re still standing on the rooftop, arms held at your sides, looking oddly small and slumped in your festival finery.

You look sad.

Bong. Bong. Bong.

The scene dissolves, snapping to black in an instant.

Wonwoo wakes up to the sharp sound of the morning bell and yellow sunlight filtering through his window shades. It’s morning already, and Wonwoo is slowly beginning to realize his mistake.

“Oh my god.” He buries his face in his hands. “She’s been in love with me this whole time,” he groans into his palms.

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Your father is holding court today. You’re seated in your usual position, on the dais but off to the side, a position befitting your rank. Wonwoo isn’t here yet, which does nothing to settle the anxious butterflies in your stomach.

“Stop that,” you hear your mother hiss at you from her seat beside your father. You look up at her, and then you follow her gaze to realize that she’s glaring at your lap, where your hands are anxiously crumpling the fine silk ties of your sash. 

Immediately, you smooth out the fabric and place your hands against your thighs, flat and still. The anxiety doesn’t abate, however, so you worry at your lower hip with your teeth while your father discusses something with his Minister of Justice. 

Maybe you thought too much of your relationship with Wonwoo. Maybe he’s quitting the job and moving to the countryside to focus on scholarship. Maybe he hates you. Maybe you should just accept your fate and marry Mingyu.

Your mind is blank as the proceedings of your father’s court continue. All you can think about is the impassive expression on Wonwoo’s face as he bowed and walked yesterday after you had stupidly blurted everything out to him. 

“And lastly,” your father announces, gathering his papers on his desk, “there’s the matter of my daughter’s future.”

“Twenty nine rejections,” one of the nobles sniffs, disdain dripping in his voice. “That’s twenty nine grudges against the crown.”

“The relationship with the southern warlords is already strained,” someone else says, “and with the recent affair with Lord Sui, well…”

“Settle down, both of you,” your father’s chief advisor orders as he thumps the edge of his folded fan against his table. “May I remind you all that Lord Sui attempted to intrude on her highness’s personal quarters at night? Her highness was merciful to only seal his mouth and throw him from the grounds.”

You glance up at your father’s chief advisor and give him a grateful smile as your father clears his throat and brings his hand down to the table. “Regardless of the decisions made on previous suitors, I have news of a new suitor, a promising candidate. His grace, Kim Mingyu, has put his name in for consideration.”

A murmur goes through the court. You can see them nodding in approval, whispering to each other like this is a favorable tariff proposal and not your future husband. 

“Does anyone have any objections to this arrangement,” your father asks, his voice booming over the noise. Your breath catches in your chest. This is your chance to speak up. This is your escape. But you remember the way Wonwoo turned away from you yesterday, like how he’s turned away from you time and time again over the years. And anyways, at least you like Mingyu. You’re tired of the constant game of cat and mouse, the constant rumors and gossip and the endless stream of insincere men begging for a sliver of your favor. 

“Wait!” The side door bursts open, nearly falling off the hinges.

In unison, every head in the large hall turns to face a very disheveled Wonwoo standing at the door. There’s a long awkward silence as everybody stares at him. 

“Wonwoo?” You gather your skirts and scramble to your feet, not caring that you’re drawing attention to yourself, or that you just called him by his personal name in front of all the members of your father’s court. “Wonwoo, what’s going on?”

Wonwoo’s eyes are wide and frantic, his mouth silently opening and closing as if he’s suddenly realizing the spectacle he just made of himself. 

“Scholar Jeon,” your father raises an eyebrow in Wonwoo’s direction and you can almost see the way he freezes up, like he’s caught in the midst of a death ray. 

“Wonwoo,” you repeat, stumbling towards him, “it’s okay.” You’re not sure what he’s here for, but you know that you’ll do everything in your power to make things okay for him.

“I—I’m submitting myself for consideration,” Wonwoo announces to the crowd but he’s looking directly at you, as if he’s speaking to you and only you. “For the crown princess’s hand in marriage.”

There’s more murmurs, more scandalized titters. Whispers about how he’s just a commoner, whispers about the lack of decorum. 

“Wonwoo.” You’re not sure if you’re hearing him correctly. 

He falls to his knees in front of you and lowers his head, and you gasp in shock. You try to pull him up, but he doesn’t budge.

“And,” he says, “I’m here to beg for her highness’s mercy and forgiveness. This humble servant has been a fool for all these years.” He raises his head and looks up at you. 

Wonwoo’s body is like a tense, tightly strung bow, trembling with anxiety and terror. 

“You’re a fool, alright,” you breathe out in a quiet whisper that only Wonwoo can hear.

Your father clicks his tongue in irritation. “Scholar Jeon, you do realize this is all quite unconventional and inconvenient, do you?”

Wonwoo’s face is flushed bright red, all the way down his neck. You know he’s quiet and shy by nature, and to come bursting in and create the biggest spectacle the court has seen in years must take an absurd amount of courage and energy, but Wonwoo is unwavering. He flashes the tiniest smile at you. “Do you want to marry me?”

You nod at him. “I accept,” you say quietly, and then in a bigger voice, “I accept. It’s him.”

The room explodes into raucous yelling, but over the din, you hear your mother clapping her hands and laughing, voice pitching near hysterical. “God, finally, do any of you know how difficult it is to host thirty suitors here? Thirty! And on the thirty first try, finally!” She turns to your father and grips his arm. “Darling, this is the last time. You need to let this happen.”

Your father, on the other hand, looks bewildered at the mixed reactions of the court. Minister Lee is waving a fan in the air, shouting about Wonwoo’s scholarly qualifications, while Lord Guan is pointing at Minister Choi and ranting about construction of a mountain pass for spice trade routes. 

“Do you think anybody would notice if we left for tea,” you turn toward Wonwoo. He’s still on his knees, wearing a dumbfounded expression on his face as the room devolves into chaos at the recent development of events.

“Get out of here, you two,” your mother waves a long sleeve in your direction with a scowl on her face, “before you somehow incite a riot.”

“I think that counts as a dismissal for the day,” Wonwoo says. 

“Tea,” you decide, tugging Wonwoo up by the hand. “And just a fair warning, I’m going to ask you to kiss me. Are you going to run away?”

“No,” Wonwoo nods, self-assured. “I’m done running.”

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extra:

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“They kept calling me your highness,” Wonwoo complains as soon as the door is closed behind him. “And your handmaidens bowed to me, like I’m some kind of royalty.”

You sit patiently on the bed, still veiled behind red silk. “That’s because you are royalty,” you reply. “You’re the prince consort now.”

“Does it ever get any less awkward?”

You hear the clinking of gold and jade as he removes his belt. You shrug at him, but the action is lost under the silk that you’re still draped in. “Don’t ask me, that’s how I’ve been addressed since I was born.”

“I suppose I won’t be able to hide away during conferences anymore,” he sighs. 

You grin. “Nope, you’ll be forced to accompany me for all social events now, darling husband.”

“How do you make that sound like a threat?” 

You hear something that sounds suspiciously like paper rustling. 

“Wonwoo!” you lift a corner of the veil and peer out into the bridal suite. At your desk, Wonwoo jumps and looks at you, only slightly guilty.

“Yes?”

“Did you bring work to our wedding night?!” 

Wonwoo puts down the scrolls in his hands. “You have work tomorrow,” he says, “and you haven’t appointed a replacement for me, so I assume I’ll still be accompanying you.”

“That’s beside the point,” you exclaim incredulously, “Wonwoo, I know you’re nervous, but you can’t just hide behind work, and especially not on our wedding night!”

He opens his mouth like he’s about to argue, but then, evidently, he thinks better of it. “I’m sorry,” he says, shoulders slumping. I feel like I’m about to lose my mind.”

“Come here, Wonwoo.” You remove the veil and toss it to the side before patting the bed. 

He takes a seat next to you. The mattress dips slightly and you scoot closer, until your thighs are touching. You can see his neck starting to flush a dark blotchy red as he looks down at his hands. 

“Wonwoo.” You tilt your head and smile at him. “One wish, anything you want.”

He turns his head and blinks at you. “Anything?”

“You’re a prince now. You can have anything you want.”

“Are you trying to seduce me?” He’s smiling now, shoulders slowly slumping into something a bit more relaxed than his ramrod-straight posture from earlier. 

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Is that so bad? Seducing my own husband?”

“I think I’ll claim my wish now,” he says quietly, fondly. “Can you kiss me?”

And you do.

#sorry guys leaving it untitled because i'm sick of this and wanna just dump it and forget about it lol #seventeen scenarios #wonwoo scenarios #seventeen #wonwoo #jeon wonwoo #97.writings #97.yn

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Rowaida Abdelaziz at HuffPost:

Earlier this month, the University of Southern California announced that Asna Tabassum would be the Class of 2024′s valedictorian, with a 3.98 GPA and in recognition of her community service and leadership skills. She is graduating with a major in biomedical engineering and a minor in resistance to genocide.

But on Monday, USC canceled the speech. In an announcement dated Monday, Provost Andrew Guzman said the “intensity of feelings, fueled by both social media and the ongoing conflict in the Middle East” has “created substantial risks relating to security and disruption at commencement.” “After careful consideration, we have decided that our student valedictorian will not deliver a speech at commencement. While this is disappointing, tradition must give way to safety,” he wrote. “This decision has nothing to do with freedom of speech. There is no free-speech entitlement to speak at a commencement. The issue here is how best to maintain campus security and safety, period.” The school did not elaborate further. Reached for comment, the provost’s office directed HuffPost to Guzman’s statement.

Tabassum, in an interview with HuffPost, questioned the university’s reasoning and told HuffPost she felt disappointed and let down by USC. “I am surprised that my own university – my home for four years – has abandoned me,” she said. In a statement published on Monday, Tabassum said that she was not aware of any specific threats against her or the university, and that during a meeting last Sunday, administrators told her that “the University had the resources to take appropriate safety measures for my valedictory speech, but that they would not be doing so since increased security protections is not what the University wants to ’present as an image.’” “Security and safety is also my concern. That’s consistent with my commitment to human equality and human rights. I don’t think that they’re mutually exclusive at all,” Tabassum told HuffPost. She noted that notable figures including former President Barack Obama, rap star Travis Scott and right-wing speaker Milo Yiannopoulos have all been able to visit campus grounds. [...]

A slew of universities have struggled to address students’ protests of the bombing campaign by Israeli forces in Gaza that has killed more than 33,000. In the last few months, schools have dealt with rising cases of antisemitism and Islamophobia, the deactivation of student-activist groups, suspension of staff, cases of doxxing and harassment and even reports of physical violence. This week, Columbia University’s president is set to testify at a congressional hearing about campus safety, four months after a similar hearing resulted in the resignation of two Ivy League presidents. And the Department of Education launched a series of investigations last November into several universities where students have reported antisemitic or Islamophobic incidents. Tabassum said she was denied a chance to let others see someone like her give a high-profile speech ― a South Asian hijab-wearing Muslim, someone “representative of communities and of the masses of people who never saw the institution made for them,” she told HuffPost. “I wanted to offer the hope that ... we can succeed [at] institutions like USC.”

[...] According to USC’s Annenberg Media, some students and alumni said Tabassum’s social media activity ― which includes a link to a pro-Palestinian page ― was antisemitic. Guzman, however, wrote that this decision was made “based on various criteria ― which did not include social media presence.” Since the university’s decision, Tabassum said she’s been overwhelmed by messages of both support and hate. People from her elementary school who she hasn’t spoken to in a decade reached out. Others have taken to Instagram to speculate about her ethnic background and her political views, and to applauded the university’s decision to revoke her invitation.

The USC's asinine decision rescinding Valedictorian Asna Tabassum's chance to make a speech is craven cowardice to Islamophobia and Israel Apartheid apologia all because of her support for Palestine.

See Also:

The Guardian: Backlash as USC cancels valedictorian’s speech over support for Palestine

#USC #University of Southern California #Asna Tabassum #Palestine #Islamophobia #Israel/Hamas War #Ceasefire NOW Protests #Israel/Hamas War Protests #Israel Apartheid #Cancel Culture

[hillaryisaboss]

“In the last two + years we have witnessed an assassination attempt on Vice President Pence.

An assasination attempt on Vice President elect Kamala Harris.

And TWO assassination attempts on 2nd in line to the Presidency - Speaker Pelosi.

An attempted kidnapping and assasination of Governor of Michigan Gretchen Whitmer.

Countless numbers of death threats aimed at election clerks, school board members, other elected officials (both Democrats and Republicans)

Rising incidents of hate crimes against the Asian community, Jewish community, Black community, LGBTQ + community etc.

All by white nationalist terrorists incited by, encouraged and supported by Trump, Putin, and lots of dark money.

All with a wink wink nod nod by the majority of Republican leadership.

It shouldn’t matter your political leanings - this should terrify anyone, as this is a crisis.

And because it comes from angry violent white people, it’s dismissed and characterized as misguided “economic anxiety.”

Please vote. Please don’t cede an inch of political power to the forces of hate and division and violence.”

#hillary clinton #joe biden #nancy pelosi #tina kotek #donald trump

[fatehbaz]

Hey I thought you might appreciate a heads up that the yellow-legged hornet (Vespa velutina) has been spotted in Savannah, Georgia. 😞

Nice. Well, not nice news. But glad that you thought of me. Thank you.

(For other people who have yet to fully embrace and explore their innate love of hornets, this Vespa velutina hornet is originally from Southeast Asia. This creature is closely related to Vespa mandarinia, the creature derisively referred to in the US as "murder hornet" or "Asian giant hornet", originally from South/East Asia, which is now apparently established near in the Salish Sea region near Bellingham, Vancouver, and Nanaimo.)

Here's a look at where the giant hornets now live in North America, along with the distribution of some other large hornets which might be mistaken as Vespa manadrinia/velutina:

The map was originally published in 2022 in American Entomologist, displaying distribution range of (non-native) giant hornet; (non-native) European hornet; (native) southern yellowjacket; and (native) eastern cicada killer. The article also identifies a few few other species which might be mistaken for "murder hornets": great golden digger wasp, bald-faced hornet, German yellowjacket, red-legged cannibal fly, and pigeon horntail. (Available to read for free online; article title in the source/caption beneath the map.)

I've had many memorable encounters with large (native) bald-faced hornets in dense cedar-hemlock rainforest-y places. And coincidentally, the Pacific Northwest is also now apparently the North American home/homebase of Vespa mandarinia. So here are some other PNW wasps/hornets in comparison, from Oregon State University Extension Catalog (2022):

From 2020 research on potential dispersal of Vespa mandarinia over a couple of decades (not necessarily a good or realistic representation, not inevitable, kinda just "potential"):

Apparently Vespa mandarinia haven't yet been encountered outside of the general Vancouver area during targeted samples:

I know that you too are fond of wasps/hornets, and are aware of their popular demonization, the way that they're feared, etc. In July 2022, the Entomological Society of America put out an online resource thing that explains why they don't like the name "Asian giant hornet" for Vespa mandarinia and Vespa velutina, instead adopting "northern giant hornet" and "yellow-legged hornet" (which you called the creature, too!) because of the racialized/xenophobic implications. ("Northern Giant Hornet Common Name Toolkit" available at: entsoc.org/publications/common-names/northern-giant-hornet) They say: '"Murder hornet" unnecessarily invokes fear and violence, which impede accurate public understanding of the insect and its biology and behavior. While "Asian" on its own is a neutral descriptor, its association with a pest insect that inspires fear and is targeted for eradication may bolster anti-Asian sentiment in some people - at a time when hate crimes and discrimination against people of Asian descent in the United States are on the rise.'

Which, for me, brings to mind this recent book from Jeannie Shinozuka:

From the publisher's blurb: 'In the late nineteenth century, increasing traffic of transpacific plants, insects, and peoples raised fears of a “biological yellow peril” [...]. Over the next fifty years, these crossings transformed conceptions of race and migration, played a central role in the establishment of the US empire and its government agencies, and shaped the fields of horticulture, invasion biology, entomology, and plant pathology. [...] Shinozuka uncovers the emergence of biological nativism that fueled American imperialism and spurred anti-Asian racism that remains with us today. [...] She shows how the [...] panic about foreign species created a linguistic and conceptual arsenal for anti-immigration movements that flourished in the early twentieth century [...] that defined groups as bio-invasions to be regulated—or annihilated.'

A lot going on at that time with insects, empire, and xenophobia. In the 1890s, the British Empire was desperately searching for a way to halt malaria, and mosquitoes had just been discovered as vectors of malaria. And from Nobel prize podium lectures to popular media newspapers and academic journals, there was all kinds of talk about how "bacteria/viruses/insects are the greatest enemy of the Empire" and whatever. The US was also expanding in the Caribbean, Central America, Pacific islands towards East Asia, etc. Tropical plantations were proliferating, not just in Dutch Java or British India, but also in US administered Central America. And so insects were perceived not just as a threat to the human body of the British soldier or American administrator; insects were also a threat to profits, as insect pests threatened monoculture plantations and agriculture.

That same time period saw the US invasion of the Philippines and exports of products from the islands; the US annexation of Hawai'i, and elevating rivalry with Japan; the 1882 passage of the notorious Chinese Exclusion Act; US control of Cuba and Puerto Rico; expansion of US fruit corporations in Central America and US sugarcane plantations in Cuba/Hawai'i, where insect pests threatened plantation profits; the advent of "Yellow Peril" tropes and fear of invasion in science fiction literature; the detaining of half a million (mostly Chinese) people at the medical quarantine processing center that the US Public Health Service operated at Angel Island in San Francisco; and US insect extermination projects, mosquito control campaigns, and medical policing of local people in Cuba and the Panama Canal Zone (where US authorities detained local people for medical testing).

A lot to consider.

#thank you #:)

[caramel1mochi]

ぐちゃ ! (Splat!) [Yoru x F! Reader] [3]

Out of everyone I've written about, Yoru is hands down the HARDEST. Somehow harder than Chamber??

He's just so solitary, I'm scraping the bottom of the barrel to make them realistically interact. I'm straight up cursing myself for liking this guy HE'S SO MENTALLY TAXING.

Now that that's out of the way, we're back! Here's another 7k long post for you guys!

❤ฺ·。

Yoru x F! Reader

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 4.5 / Part 5 / Part 6

Genre: Fluff

Synopsis: Hapless doesn't even begin to describe you. With your life flipped upside down within the span of a day; you're left to rely on your best friend Tala to help you pick up the pieces and build the new one forced upon you. And this 'luck' seems to have caught the attention of one of her friends.

。+❤ฺ·。❤ฺ·。+❤ฺ· +❤·。❤ฺ·。+❤ฺ·

You hadn’t eaten in almost fifteen hours. And though you didn’t realise it at the time, your stomach made sure you knew it, and rudely awoke you from your slumber as a harsh reminder of your mistake. With a deep angry sigh, you laid on your back and lamented this stupid body.

First, it accepts a foreign solid object into its nervous system and allows it to make non reversible and destructible changes, enough to classify you as a threat. Now it has the gall to ask for food?

…

Maybe you weren’t all there yet.

You looked to your right to notice a fuzzy ball of blue pressed up against a dull pillow of grey, your blurry vision slowly adjusting to the strands that stuck out. Right, it was Neon. And you weren’t selfish enough to wake her up to get you food.

And so, with major reluctance, like a bear waking up from hibernation, you were forced to move and nourish yourself.

❤ฺ·。

Thankfully, the kitchen was empty.

You walked through the common room earlier. It was empty as well, but there was this odd sensation of a pair of eyes watching you. Like it was some omnipresent, supernatural being. Fused into the environment. And you made the obvious choice of getting the hell out of there.

You were already cursed, you weren’t about to tamper with the spirits and anger them.

With a deep sigh, you turned to the fridge and ignored the pretty sight in front of you. Nearly as golden as yesterday, but because the sun had only begun to rise, the hue was much calmer.

Maybe, now that you had free time, you’d finally get around to cooking yourself breakfast that wasn’t tea and whatever thing you had lying around from the night before. With only one arm to work with, it sounded like a strenuous task to take on.

You looked around, finding all kinds of food. For a moment, it baffled you. Indian food, Australian food, American, eastern asian, african, everything. Even some of the fruit and vegetables left you confused, not when you barely stepped foot outside of your own culture.

But most importantly; were you even allowed to touch this food? None of it was yours, even the raw stuff. Huh, maybe this is why your mother really didn’t want you to move out.

Speaking of your mum, you should probably get to contacting your parents.

Then, you heard someone clear their throat behind you, making you jump and look back. But relief instantly filled you at the sight of Yoru. And this, he caught on to, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh. It’s you.”

“Morning…”

He stretched his arm between you and the fridge and moved you away until you were at a comfortable distance, before finally accessing the sanctuary of food. All without touching you. For a moment, you couldn’t tell whether this was impressive or not. 

Did he just hate people or you specifically?

“I’m surprised you showed up after yesterday.”

You shrunk, watching him diligently observe the shelves. Probably for his own plate of food.

“I was hoping everyone was asleep, and, uh… Guess I was wrong, huh?”

You awkwardly chuckled, but Yoru didn’t react.

“I’d bury myself if I were you,” he slammed the door of the fridge and blankly met your gaze, “no offence.”

Then, he walked off, boiling some water as he set the plate on the counter. Not a hint of amicability in any word that left his mouth. You watched him in silence for a moment, before crossing your arms and sighing.

“Thanks, that helps.”

“I’m just being honest.”

Being honest, huh? Yeah. Sounds like a thin veil to insult you.

Once he stepped away and set his food on the table, you quickly took this chance to wash your own cup, preparing to make yourself tea. You really didn’t want to talk to him (or anyone), not when he was as welcoming as a feral cat. But again, this is the same guy who helped you quit your job. Actions speak louder than words, right?

"Neon told us about you yesterday."

"She didn't say anything bad, did she? I'll kill her, if so!"

He silently approached and poured himself tea, before walking off to his table.

"You think you're cursed?"

You sighed in relief, before taking the kettle into your own hand.

"It's not obvious? It's only been two days and everything bad that could happen, happened."

"How?"

You set down your hot cup with a loud clunk, glancing at him from behind. Now, Yoru was sitting on one of the circular tables. Chopsticks and bowl of food in hand, leaning back on his chair, he didn’t share your passion for the situation whatsoever.

"You're kidding, right? Look around! I destroyed the roof in the training room in front of Harbour and that green haired one, Viper and Neon suddenly switched and hated the nectar they liked before, and you watched me get yelled at by my boss. Now, you're here!"

His eyes darted towards yours.

"What?"

"I– I mean, I wanted to be alone, but you showed up. Nothing against you!"

…

He looked away.

"Sounds tough."

Yoru turned his gaze away and lifted a piece of broccoli, daintily biting it. Seeing this, and with no other choice, you took your cup of scalding hot tea and approached his table.

"Also, they figured out what that thing is."

"What thing?"

"The nectar. Fade saw it. It's liquified fear."

You held the back of your chair, staring at him in silence.

"What?"

"Yeah. You just reminded Viper of her biggest mistake. Why do you think she looked so mad?"

With an awkward chuckle, you sat down, mortification flooding every inch of you. From his vacant expression and monotone voice, it didn’t sound like he was mocking you for your mistake, either. Just letting you know, because, why not?

"You're kidding, right?"

"No."

You clutched your temple with a deep sigh, mumbling a few words in Tagalog under your breath. You just reminded Viper of her biggest mistake, he said. The same woman studying your hand and helping you out. Not only her, but also Harbour and Neon. Now it made sense why she mentioned something about an abundance of electricity, and why Harbour was so quick to leave the scene after Viper asked him to describe the sample.

Yoru simply sat in front of you, swallowing a piece of flavourful salmon before he spoke up once more.

"What're you gonna do?"

"I... I don't know. I guess I– I'll wait for Harbour until we get this under control."

"You'll wait for Harbour?"

"Yeah... Not like I have any other choice. But it's all so much to learn..."

"Tch. Like what?"

"Everything! I have to learn how to use a gun, position myself, communicate, use my bracelet, and that's not even scratching the surface! I saw what Brimstone wrote in his email earlier!"

You met his gaze angrily, but he didn’t seem bothered.

"Oh, yeah. That. If you’re so clueless, then stop just letting things happen. Say something."

He picked up a small portion of white rice and ate it, watching confusion take over you. What kind of suggestion was that? You thought.

"How?"

"Tell him you want to practise taking control of your bracelet first."

"I can't do that! How would I even tell him?"

"‘Harbour, I want to take things slow. Help me with my bracelet first, then the guns.'"

He took a few edamame beans, biting down with a shrug.

"It's not that hard."

You shook your head and crossed your arms.

He wasn’t joking, was he?

"What if he says no?"

"He won't."

"What makes you so sure?"

"I know him."

"What if Viper or Brimstone say no?!"

"They don't have a say in this."

"But then I'd be delaying things!"

"Gekko's been training for a month and he's still in the same place as you."

He met your gaze and pointed at you with his chopsticks, a piece of salmon in between.

“The one with the green hair.”

Then, he took a bite. All while holding in the urge to call you spineless. Not so soon.

It took you a moment to think of anything else to say. Everything that left your mouth was shut down instantaneously, and you weren’t even given a moment to elaborate on it given how cut and dry his answers were. How would you even talk with someone like him? He practically took all of the answers and laid them out in front of you. Clear as the sun.

And you had customer service skills.

"Are you making up stuff to make it look like you're right, or are you really being truthful?"

"Are you calling me a liar, lady?"

He snapped, and you were taken aback by this sudden bout of aggression.

"Okay! Okay, I'll– I'll try it. I'll tell him. But if he says no, it's on you!"

He rolled his eyes and ate a small piece of cucumber.

"Whatever."

You stared at him for a few seconds, completely forgetting the hunger you felt. How were you meant to deal with someone like this?

In terms of conversation, Yoru was rude. Very rude. But in terms of actions, he was helping you to an exponential degree. Giving you a clear-cut answer to everything, and not giving you a chance to feed into your anxiety. As outlandish as this thought sounded, you couldn’t help but ask yourself.

Was Yoru being… nice?

"Are you usually like this?"

He raised an eyebrow.

"You're so weird. You look like you can’t stand me, but you're helping me out. Is there something going on? Did Neon tell you anything yesterday?"

"I wanted to train yesterday. But I couldn't."

He stirred his fluffy rice.

"I don't want you to ruin any other place I frequent."

"And... you're doing that by helping me?"

"Yeah."

…

Is that it? Nothing else, no hidden motives? He just didn’t want you to get in his way, and somehow went about it in the most unexpected way possible. Had you known, you would’ve expected him to cuss you out and call it a day.

And nobody has an issue with this…?

Yoru really was a walking oxymoron, wasn’t he? And you couldn't help but be even more curious about him, finally taking the cup of tea into your hand.

"Thanks, I guess."

He threw you a quick hum of acknowledgement.

❤ฺ·。

Boarding the same vehicle you first arrived in, you were taken far, far away to a remote island made up of a single valley that stretched out until the ocean halted its path. You hopped out of the vehicle into a field of grass and nervously looked around, checking for any sign of fauna. And it's not like it was difficult either. There were absolutely no mountains in sight. Aside from a few insects, naught was found.

Harbour jumped out behind you, taking a deep breath with a wide smile on his face, as if you didn't just destroy a portion of the base yesterday.

"Look at this place, it's perfect, waiting to be squashed! How's your arm, friend?"

You awkwardly smiled, meeting his gaze. He held two guns in each hand, and just this sight made you nervous for what's to come.

"The drug's wearing off..."

"Good, good, we can take it step by step, then. Let's get started with the scans Viper handed me, first. Can you hold this for me?"

And as if he was giving you a piece of candy, he held out his hand, a Ghost in his grip waiting to be grabbed by you. You cleared your throat and slowly took it with your right hand, your fingers wrapping around the grip. One wrong move, and both of you could be squashed. Damn you for wearing the bracelet on your main hand, right?

You stared at the gun while he took out a suitcase, processing the fact that it was a real weapon. Forget the bracelet, just pulling the trigger could cause injury, or death. Should you be holding something like this?

"So, uh, Harbour, I was thinking, and..."

You swallowed, meeting his gaze whilst he fumbled with the open bag, now set on the ground. He waited for you to continue, but the words just wouldn't come out.

"What is it?"

"I think we should–"

How hard was it just to tell him?!

"I think we should focus on my hand first!"

...

Harbour stood up and raised an eyebrow, papers in hand. Their contents were obscured on account of the angle he held them in.

"You've never used a gun before?"

"Uh, no?"

He shrugged, holding out his hand once more.

"That's fair. Give me that back, and we'll get to it when you're ready."

You blinked, staring at him in shock.

Wow, he listened! So, Yoru was right, huh? Maybe the people here aren't as rigid as the ones back home...

Immediately, you shook your head and handed him his gun back, pushing those thoughts out of your head. Don't think about it, else your luck will be jinxed and you'd probably squash the VLT/R by accident.

"So, what's that?"

"This, my friend, are your X-rays. Left and right arm. See this?"

He placed both papers right next to each other on the ground. With the calm winds that barely managed to sway a strand of hair on your heads, it was safe to say they wouldn't be blown away any time soon. Now, you could see clearly the difference between your left and right arm.

"These extra lines here are your brand new nerves; made and connected to the stem. Some sensory, some motor. Mostly motor. Do you know what that means?"

You stared at him with a forced smile, non-verbally telling him you hated these pauses. The suspension killed you. Literally, if you moved one finger.

"Okay, okay, it means that you'll be able to voluntarily control parts of your bracelet. Like a muscle."

You tilted your head with a more natural smile. 'Bracelet' and 'like a muscle' sounded so wrong together.

"What?"

"How do you move this arm?"

He pointed at your left arm. And you lifted your elbow in confusion, rotating your hand repeatedly.

"I, uh, I just move it, I guess?"

"Exactly, and how do you move parts of the bracelet?"

...

"Just like you would with a muscle! You just have to find out where, and the search begins here."

He pointed at your right wrist on the paper where most of the extra nerves lay. Like roots, they spread out viciously across your entire arm towards your shoulder, before the picture was cut off. You could barely understand what he meant on account of your clouded frame of mind, but it was worth a try, right?

You turned towards the empty field and held out your right hand, working to move every possible muscle.

"You have to forgive me, I'm not really a biology guy."

"Could've fooled me. What are you into, then?"

"History! Everything history. Name anything, and there's an astronomically high chance I know about it."

You winced once you moved the wrong muscle, quickly relaxing your hand once more. It felt like a finger was shoved deep between the bones of your wrist, before pulling away. Was that it?

"Fun... And what about this place? You're sure this island has no animals I'll inevitably kill?"

"Oh no, no chance. There used to be a chemical weapons plant on this island many years ago, and the fumes from that killed all of the wildlife. Nothing to worry about."

Nothing to worry about? He sounded unnaturally upbeat as he explained this, like a professor at a university who was too happy about his job. No wonder he was the coach, he was just so pleasant to be around even while discussing macabre topics.

"What country was it?"

"That I don't remember, but I know it was around when World War One took place." 

Good, good. So, nothing else was dying at your hand. Fumbling around with your fingers for a few seconds as you both chatted, you didn't find any 'nerve points', so to speak. All you did was tense the muscles on your wrist, arch your fingers and loosen them.

“So, you have an artefact, I have this thing, is there anyone else like us?”

“Well, Astra is one of us, but her whole arm is made of gold. Last she told me, it had something to do with a pond, but not much else was said.”

You perked up at this, looking at him from the corner of your eye.

“She has a golden arm? That sounds so much cooler.”

You took the two X-rays and set them side by side. Comparing both arms, you noted down where the prevalent nerves were and worked to gain control over them. Progress has been naught so far, so you might as well, right?

“Wait til’ you see what’s under the gold. I won't tell you, though!”

“Lame! So, anyone else?”

“Let me think… Oh, Yoru has his samurai mask that he painted over.”

He said the last part between gritted teeth. And with a giggle that interrupted him, you silenced yourself and waited for him to continue his sentence.

…

“...And?”

He shrugged, confused at your expectant look.

“I don’t know. Guy keeps to himself, I can't get more than two words out of him.”

“Oh… Wait, aren’t you the coach around here?”

Why was he so okay with one of his subordinates being so conceited, then? With you, sure. You were a newbie. But him?

“He’s like that with everyone. You should see how Brimstone gets when they talk, it’s like getting blood out of a stone!” he stifled his chuckle, “I have to step in sometimes, but it’s hilarious to watch.”

“And you guys are okay with it?”

“Ehh, well, yes. It’s not really the end of the world. Besides, he makes up for it.”

How could he possibly make up for it? Being rude is– well, it’s being rude, there’s no way to–

Then, a shadow emerged above both of you. But before it could strike, you immediately loosened the point, and it fused back into the air like nothing happened.

"Wait, wait– I think I found it!"

It felt like you could somehow, instead of moving a whole set of muscles, you could move them individually. Even the ones buried deep within, shifting towards the bracelet. You tensed one muscle once more. And there, you could see the shadow form. But when the pressure was kept steady, so was the silhouette, and it stood still like a cloud looming over both of you.

"This is amazing!"

You cried out in joy, Harbour smiling.

"Congratulations! So, think you can move that away? I'd like to live another day, please."

"Oh, right– right, yeah, sorry."

You awkwardly giggled, and worked on moving the silhouette far away to a safe distance. Harbour promptly walked to your right, his arms crossed. His sarcasm was just too much for you.

"No worries. Now, with only a few more days of practise, you'll be squashing the invaders like they're flies on command! Exciting, don’t you think?"

You shared his joy for a moment, before meeting his gaze with a certain amount of concern.

"You're joking, right?"

"...Sure. Now, back to work!"

You sighed, bringing up your hand with your fingers stretched apart. 

This is gonna be a long day.

❤ฺ·。

You’d been training for a while, and now that they deemed it fit, after three days in the protocol, you were finally able to meet Neon’s friends. And by ‘they’, it was just everyone other than the administration. To them, meeting you took more priority than giving you a name, a room, and trying to understand your abilities properly.

“I can’t wait for you to meet everyone! If Raze wasn’t so tired, she’d definitely be throwing you a party right now.”

You sighed, barely able to keep your own eyelids up, let alone your entire body to walk down the never ending hallway.

“I’m not in the mood for parties, Tal– uh, Neon.”

“And that’s where you’re lucky! Congratulations! Maybe things are turning around for you.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, her joy simply too contagious. Maybe they were.

“I know, you can tell how excited I am.”

You lifted your hand, nectar oozing off of it like your arm had a bath all out of its own volition. With your powers now seemingly under control, the dosage Viper gave you this time around was much less potent. And thanks to this, you were able to produce whatever cursed perfume the bracelet can make.

“Can I, uh, have some tissues?”

“Sure, here.”

“Yo, what’s that smell?”

The doorway stood merely a few metres away from you. And even at such distance, you could still hear one of the guys announce. And unfortunately for you, that voice was dreadfully familiar. You stopped, catching Neon’s attention.

“Uh oh, that sounds like…”

“Oh, that’s Gekko. He’s chill, don’t worry.”

“Gekko? The one with the green hair? He’s the one who saw me destroy the roof with Harbour!”

Neon rolled her eyes and grabbed your left wrist, pulling you towards her.

“Hoy, relax, Y/N. They’ve probably forgotten about it by now, you know how fast things happen around here?”

Not fast enough, apparently. Gekko was still in training, if Yoru was correct.

“Okay, but promise you’ll be there.”

“I’m not going anywhere! Now, let’s get you some tissues before this smell kills me.”

Judging by that sentence, the hallway probably started to stink of adobo, enough to send her into a delirious state of hunger, and… enough to catch the attention of the ones in the cafeteria, unfortunately.

You walked through the doorway, eyes rapidly darting to every table. Contrasting the empty sight you’d gotten used to, now, the cafeteria was stuffed with people split into their respective friend groups. Everyone wearing their own bright sets of colours, it was like a congregation of pretty butterflies. Even Harbour sat with others you couldn’t recognise, and…

Yoru.

Amongst all of them, he stuck out. Really stuck out.

Thank god, you thought. The mere sight of Yoru made you feel at ease, despite his incredibly unfriendly expression as he watched his friends chat. And by the looks of things, he contributed absolutely nothing to the conversation, either.

Neon wasn’t lying when she said there’s plenty of them, huh?

“Here,”

Neon called out, handing you a few tissues to wipe your hand with. But before you could thank her, you were promptly interrupted by an enthusiastic voice from the table the Japanese sat at.

“Neon, over here!”

One of the women called out, excitedly waving her hand to catch the attention of both of you. And unfortunately for you, she was one of the ones you’d never seen before. Her, and everyone who sat around her.

“That’s Raze,"

“That’s her name?”

“Trust me, Y/N, you’re the odd one out, here. Anyway, come on!”

You rolled your eyes and followed, wiping your hand in the process. And just by touching a single finger, half of the tissue had already gotten soaked with the liquid, and the smell unfortunately spread even further.

Just approaching the table, you could feel the eyes of everyone on you, a smile lifting each and every one of their lips. Despite their amiable expressions, it still made you nervous to be thrust into the spotlight so quickly. All, but the one who needn’t be named, at this point. The one with the white hair immediately perked up, excited by your very presence.

“Hey! You’re the new one, right? Where were you the whole time?!”

You smiled awkwardly and sat down right next to her, only now noticing that each of them were actually eating food. Mostly empty plates and plastic wrappings around them, of course, but it was a surprise, nonetheless.

“I was, uh, getting examined and… you know, training, and stuff.��

“Psh, I mean, we all train, but I’ve never seen someone train so hard we never see them. Not even Yoru! This must be serious, yeah?”

You raised an eyebrow, staring at her in confusion. Wasn’t a portion of the building destroyed because of you literally the day before? That wasn’t to mention the news stories that spread around after your hand was imprinted on that hill. Huh, maybe Neon was right about things going fast around here. 

Pun not intended.

“Neon told us all about you, yesterday! Is it true you have a shapeshifting bracelet? Is it tech? Can I see it?!”

Another perked up, clearly excited. And despite her incredibly harsh german accent, you somehow managed to dig out the words.

It took you a moment to even comprehend what she said, before slowly lifting your right hand and revealing said bracelet. The wet tissues were held in a way that wouldn’t obscure what they were observing. Clearly, she was disappointed that it wasn’t tech and instead a plant.

But before anyone could actually make a comment, Gekko coughed and cleared his throat, covering the lower half of his face with a hand.

“Yo, seriously, anyone smell that?”

“Smell what? All I smell is Raze.”

Killjoy said, and you were immediately perplexed at what she meant.

“Tch. No wonder Gekko can’t breathe, then.”

Yoru scoffed, earning a playful eye-roll from Raze.

“Come on! My bombs don’t smell that bad. Sure, sometimes they’re suffocating, but nothing that would hurt, you know?”

“Hoy, don’t get your hopes up. It’s just the stuff from her hand. It’s like, nectar, or something.”

Neon pointed at your hand and unintentionally guided all of their eyes towards you all over again. With an awkward chuckle, you tossed the wet tissues on the table, working to shift their attention to it instead.

“The smell’s in, uh, this thing.”

Gekko grabbed one tissue and smelled it, coughing and promptly tossing it away.

“Okay– bad idea, bad idea.”

Jett took it, stuffing it into her nose and taking the biggest sniff ever. Unlike Gekko, who successfully suffocated himself, she was instead met with a heavenly aroma.

“Mmmm, it smells like a fresh spring breeze after a hard day’s work! My favourite!”

“Ugh, this feels like that mission with Viper all over again!”

You quickly nudged Neon’s, bringing yourself closer to her in order to not be heard.

“Is he okay?!”

“Yeah! He just has asthma, don’t worry about it.”

Neon looked back to her friends as they chatted, before her eyes widened in realisation.

“Uh– wait, now that I think about it, you probably shouldn’t be working with him–”

Then, a loud, familiar and enthusiastic voice interrupted the conversation; all of you looking up to see Harbour standing behind Killjoy and Raze; giving you a clear vision of him. Of course, despite everything that happened, the sight of him inspired dread more than anything else.

“Y/N, ready to get back to training?”

…

You weakly smiled, the words ‘I’m exhausted and I want to spend all day in bed, please,’ lodged in your throat.

It had been almost six hours of pure vigorous training on that island, and you’d only had a thirty minute break. But you’d just asked Harbour to take it slow, and with that entire time you could’ve spent learning how to use a gun; you instead used up all of it on learning how to use your hand. So, how could you say no?

And so, despite your heavy eye-lids and inability to hold your head up, you nodded, and pulled all of your weight to stand.

Then, another familiar voice interrupted this conversation.

“You guys trained all day. How does a break sound?”

Yoru said, twisting the spiked bracelet he wore. Eyes locked on it, he didn't acknowledge your existence.

“A break? Yeah, I could use one right now, actually. As long as Y/N’s up for it.”

Uh oh.

“Great! It sounds, uh, sounds great! I– I can do that.”

“Good, I’ll see you tonight, then. Astra! How about that one book you recommended?”

Harbour promptly walked off, a dark-skinned woman wearing purple and gold attire immediately following along. You stared at Yoru for a few seconds, but the moment you opened your mouth was also the moment he stood up and walked off, earning an angry look from Raze.

“Come on, we just sat down!”

“Bathroom. Sorry.”

With a single turn, Yoru disappeared thanks to the doorway that did him a favour and concealed all of him. And this time, you really weren't sure what to think about him. But one thing you were sure of;

with his quickness and convenient timing, Yoru absolutely didn’t leave for the bathroom.

❤ฺ·。

It had been a few days since that whole debacle took place. And in those few days, though you were training, you still spent time with Neon’s friends and even clicked with a select few of them as things settled. You had your own room, you were assigned a proper name, and your bracelet’s capabilities were narrowed down in a comprehensible list. However, despite all of this, you never thanked Yoru for what he’d done.

Whenever you’d see him, it would be like seeing a wild cicada; it would only last a few seconds before he’d walk off. Minus the noise that cicadas make, of course. Which is partly why you’re so excited to have finally caught him in the training range, alone, rapidly shooting down a bunch of bots. And with only one bullet used for each one, his aim was dangerously accurate.

Not that it concerned you, right now.

“Hey, Yoru!”

“Hey.”

He greeted back. So quietly, you nearly didn’t catch it since it was drowned out by the echoes of the bullets, combined with the bots heads’ loudly breaking with each shot. Yoru straightened his back and met your gaze, easing his grip on the Vandal. However, using its muzzle, he pointed at your bracelet.

“That hand under control?”

You eagerly nodded, and he went back to shooting, ready to disregard you.

“Great.”

“Hey, also, thanks for helping me out again, I don’t think things would’ve been as smooth if you didn’t step in.”

Just by the way he furrowed his brow, you could tell he wasn’t exactly pleased with this. The moment of silence was interrupted with a loud gunshot, another bot falling to the ground.

“Sure, whatever you say.”

He took another shot in silence, leaving you confused. And though you waited for him to bring up whatever bothered him and continue his sentence, as expected; naught was said.

“Uh… what? Did I say something wrong?”

“No. I just don’t think you took my advice.”

“Why not? I did what you told me to do, and we focused on my hand first.”

Yoru fired one final shot, another bot collapsing. Then, he took out the empty magazine and met your gaze.

“I told you not to let everyone walk all over you, A/N. I told you to speak.”

You were perplexed even further. Was he not listening to what you were saying, or just intentionally ignored it to make it look like he has a point to prove?

“I did! I told Harbour to take it slow, just like you said!”

“And you were ready to get back to training right after that.”

Almost instantly, you were left with your counter-argument lodged in your throat. As much as you wanted to defend yourself, he had a point there. You were exhausted, couldn’t even focus on a simple conversation, but you didn’t say anything. And thus, didn’t take his advice… or whatever he said. But this wasn’t an overnight change, you thought. You couldn’t just switch like that.

You crossed your arms, growing irritated.

“So? Look, you helped me, and I’m saying thanks. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Tch. Whatever.”

…

What the hell is this guy’s problem?! You clenched your fists, barely able to keep yourself from raising your voice. And with his mildly irked expression that didn’t change throughout this entire conversation; you were all the more annoyed.

“Are you in the mood to fight, or something?”

“No, but I’m not going to brownnose you like everyone else, lady. I’m telling you what nobody else can.”

Your eyes widened, and you saw red. Who does he think he is?!

“You’re not a hero for insulting me, Yoru! If you have something to say, then say it!”

You pointed at him condescendingly as you spoke, treating him the same way he treated you; less. With how vast and large the training room was, your increasingly loud voice began to echo. A massive contrast to how calm and monotone he was.

Surprisingly enough, pointing at him seemed to have evoked a reaction other than ‘mildly irritated’, and Yoru now shared your anger. You asked for the truth, and god knows you’d get it.

“Fine. Being around you pisses me off, A/N. this ‘unlucky’ gimmick you won’t shut up about is just a scapegoat.”

“What’re you trying to say?”

“For god's sake, I’m saying you’re spineless!”

He snapped, and you stared at him in shock. It took you a few seconds to even find the right words to say.

“Spineless? What the hell is wrong with you?! You’re acting like I wanted all of this to happen to me!”

“Get the hell over it. Things happen to all of us, but we're not moaning nonstop about it.”

His voice returned to its normal pitch, to your surprise. In fact, it was a bit quieter, and he spoke through gritted teeth. You hadn’t noticed that Yoru pulled out another magazine and inserted it into the Vandal, angling his body back to the bots. And with that, he took his time to aim, prepared to shoot.

“Prove me wrong. Frankly, I’m doing you a favour by telling you all of this.”

At this point, you couldn’t think properly from how much you wanted to squash him then and there. Prove him wrong, he said? Fine. Why be peaceful when he was sniffing out a fight like a starving rat in the dark?

You slammed your hand against the big red button to your right. And with a loud and prolonged ding, training was halted, and he was forced to focus all of his attention on you.

“Okay, you’ve had your piece, but it’s only fair I also have mine, right?”

Yoru gently set his Vandal down on the counter in front of you and begrudgingly met your gaze, crossing his arms. He wasn’t amused.

“I don’t care how high and mighty you think you are, but I’m not gonna let a corny egomaniac like you talk to me like that!” You pointed at his chest as you spoke. But gradually, with each word, you resorted to poking him in a patronising manner. “Just because you stand around all mysteriously and stay quiet all the time doesn’t mean you’re better than me, you stupid son of a b–”

A red ball immediately shot out of your bracelet, swiftly dodged by Yoru.

And with a loud splat, it slammed against the wall, slowly sliding towards the ground as clear fluids seeped out of it like an incredibly wet towel. You both stared at it for a few seconds, sharing each others’ astonishment. 

But it wasn’t until he met your gaze, donning an incredibly smug expression he absolutely did not try to hide. Without words, you knew he was mocking you.

“Bravo. Or whatever Chamber says.”

He placed both hands in his pockets and walked off behind you towards the doorway, leaving you in your own little bubble of terror to process. That little bomb you shot out saved you from having to crawl to Sage with a broken finger, he thought. That’s for sure. But for once, he’d keep his mouth shut and say something more appropriate.

“If you’re smart, you’d think about what I said.”

His footsteps faded away with each passing second you spent scrutinising the ‘bomb’.

Slowly, you walked towards it, taking in its appearance. And it didn’t look like a traditional bomb, even by the standards of your alien bracelet. Was it even a bomb?

It lay in a pile of clear liquid produced by it. And if your assumptions were correct, it was the same nectar that would emit scent. Like a rat king, each green section of this unfamiliar plant connected at the centre and formed a demented yet pretty circle of red and green, nectar oozing off of each tentacle.

What the hell kind of demonic flower is this…?

However, even though you were observing something you’d never seen in your life produced by you, you still couldn’t help but think about that a-hole. Psh. Not unlucky, he said. Just spineless. You asked for your life to be completely lost by accepting the gift from Manuel, right?

You sighed, furious. Whatever. The important thing is; you just discovered something new. And you needed to find out where the trigger was to shoot out those… er, bomb things.

You observed the slew of plants for the next few minutes, probably hours, all of your attention completely locked on it. But you still didn’t touch it out of fear. So much so, you didn’t notice that there was a figure staring at you from behind as it stood next to the doorway in silence.

Until he cleared his throat.

You jumped and looked back, but the apology got stuck in your throat once you saw an ominous figure enveloped in darkness, a purple hood concealing the person’s pitch black features. Of course, that wasn’t to mention the three cyan slits where its face should be, facing you like a predator in a dark, dark forest.

“A/N, right?”

…

“I’m Omen.”

It clicked.

He’s Omen?! You’ve heard his name dropped a few times, even saw it written on the scoreboard while training, but he– You immediately cleared your throat, standing up properly and awkwardly positioning yourself to cover the plant.

“Omen! I heard about you. You’re…” you looked him up and down, nervously smiling, “you look, uh, unique…?”

“I get that a lot.”

You noticed the slits in his face expand horizontally. Subtle, but in the darkness, it was hard to not notice. Was that supposed to be his way of smiling…?

“I heard yelling in here from the other room. Are you okay?”

Ugh. 

You crossed your arms, frustrated all over again.

“You were in the common room?”

“Of course, by the fireplace. I always sit there.”

…

“Oh, really? Sorry…” 

You immediately felt guilty at the fact you’d bothered him enough to have forced him up to check on you. And with how quiet that area was at this time of day, it must’ve been extra irritating to listen to.

He stepped out of the shadows and moved towards you; a black vapour emitted from his hood before disappearing into the air. And though this was terrifying since it was a literal ghost walking towards you, the way he moved somehow looked… zen. Each step gentle, letting out as little noise as possible.

He had the same aura as Sage, but stronger. Tranquil and peaceful. The exact opposite as to how you felt currently.

Then, he stopped next to you, allowing the light above to shine upon whatever features there were. And still, you couldn’t really see what he was really made of, outside of the clothes, armour and bandages that covered him.

He pointed to what you were supposed to be hiding.

“What’s this?”

Your eyes widened, flushing.

“That’s– that’s uh, you know, it’s a funny story, actually…”

“Oh, it’s new?”

He knelt down and poked the plant, immediately making you panic.

“Wait, uh, Omen, I don’t think you should–”

The red tentacles stuck on the stem promptly wrapped around his finger, holding onto it for dear life. Effectively, his finger was stuck, and the nectar spread on it made it much easier to trap him.

Uh oh.

“Hm…”

Omen tried to pull away, but even you could tell he struggled. Somehow, now, the main stem of it merged itself onto the metal ground as if it sprouted from it moments prior. And with this sturdy support; it successfully kept the wraith in place.

“It has a death grip. It could trap whoever steps in it.”

And just like that, the black mist that formed his finger disintegrated into nothing, allowing him to easily escape its grasp. Within the next second, he gathered a small amount of his shadows to ‘regrow’ the lost limb, standing up and meeting your gaze.

Right, you forgot that you were talking to a GHOST. Normal stuff, right? How silly of you to forget.

“Now we figured out what kind of plant your bracelet is made of.”

You perked up at this.

“Really?”

“This is sundew. Carnivorous, last I heard. You should tell Viper about this.”

Ugh, Viper? Right now? The thought of asking Viper about this absolutely left your mind the moment it entered. You just weren’t in the mood to take up her time with something unimportant like this. Who knows, she could be–

Wait, but doesn’t that mean Yoru was right?

You immediately shook your head. Whatever, that jerk has no place in your mind. Or anywhere near you, for that matter.

“I– I think I'll ask her about it later. She has a mission going on and stuff, I don’t want to bother her.”

He stared at you. And with only the slits to go off of, you had no idea what was going through his mind. Then, he tilted his head.

“Are you certain? This seems… important. Does she make you uncomfortable?”

You smiled and waved him off, slightly blushing.

“Omen! She’s the last person who would make me uncomfortable. I already bothered you enough with all the yelling, I promise I’ll deal with it on my own, okay? Don’t worry about it.”

He stared at you for a few seconds, before nodding. Though, with the awkward motion of it, he seemed incredibly unconvinced.

“If you say so. But, just to make sure, does this have to do with Yoru?”

…

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I’ve seen you talk to him for a few mornings when you first arrived here. You two seem to click together.”

That was him?!

“Yeah, click together, sure…”

Should you tell Omen about the argument? But it would be weird, wouldn’t it? It would be awkward to admit you got in an argument on your first week… Especially with Yoru. And everyone here seems to make excuses for how crass he was, for some reason. Why would anyone tolerate this type of behaviour? Especially Viper.

You sighed, awkwardly scratching at your bracelet.

“I’ll– I’ll try to get this under control, probably with Harbour. Thanks for the talk, and stuff. See you later!”

You called out, immediately marching towards the exit and disappearing before another word could be exchanged. Omen was left alone in the training range, and god knows you felt bad.

#valorant #x reader #fanfiction #yoru x reader #valorant fanfiction #yoru #female reader #yoru x f reader #yoru x female reader #valorant yoru #valorant x reader #valorant imagines #ryo kiritani #valorant yoru x reader #valorant yoru x f reader #harbour #neon #valorant neon #valorant harbour #valorant omen #omen #valorant gekko #gekko #valorant raze #raze #valorant killjoy

[newsfromstolenland]

https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/toronto/2-years-into-the-pandemic-anti-asian-hate-is-still-on-the-rise-in-canada-report-shows-1.6404034

Myka Jaymalin says she remembers the final straw that made her quit her customer-service job in the summer of 2020. Working in a downtown Toronto restaurant, she says she was used to one-off confrontations with some diners. But the aggression from one customer that day was different. "He told me: 'If you can't f--king speak English — if you can't understand English — then why would you even work in this industry?'" said Jaymaylin, who is now the chairperson of Anakbayan Toronto, a Filipino youth organization. Advocates say the kind of aggression Jaymalin faced is not only common for Asian people, many of whom have been working in public-facing and precarious jobs throughout the pandemic, it can escalate into violence. They've been ringing the alarm since attacks on Asians began after the first known COVID-19 cases were discovered in China, and when six Asian women were killed in a series of shootings in the Atlanta area last year.  Despite this, a new report shows incidents of anti-Asian racism in Canada are increasing. 

Tagging: @allthecanadianpolitics

#asks #anonymous #mine #cdnpoli #racism #anti-asian racism #xenophobia #sinophobia

[fuck-customers]

To the workers who voluntarily still wears masks, do you ever feel like subtly discriminating against for wearing it? I know there are still people who loudly harass people for still wanting to wear a mask, but it’s the quiet, subtle things that make me the most uncomfortable. I feel extra paranoid as an Asian American because I’m worried it’s not really about the mask, but me wearing a mask. At work, I’ll get side glances or glares, people will hold the door until they see me, not saying please and thank you, or even saying hello or good morning, etc. Part of me thinks it’s because of the stress people went through during the height of the pandemic and now with inflation rising.

@staff I HATE the new text editor!

[whimsyandbooks]

The Hurricane Wars: A Stellar 10/10 True Enemies to Lovers Adventure In "The Hurricane Wars" by Thea Guanzon, the lush tale of a fantastical realm is vividly portrayed. Within this richly woven narrative, the story revolves around Talasyn, the last known light weaver on the continent, and Alaric, the formidable Prince of Kesath and an adept Shadow Weaver. Their world, torn apart by the devastating power of storms wielded by ships, is brought to life with intricate detail. As their paths collide and their magic clashes in unexpected ways, a tale of profound enmity, unexpected alliances, and the delicate balance between love and hate unfolds. Against the backdrop of a nation, Sarodivia, struggling under the oppressive rule of Kesath, these characters come alive, their complexities adding layers to a story that weaves together themes of identity, freedom, and the intricate dance between darkness and light. Join Talasyn and Alaric on a mesmerizing journey where the battlegrounds of the heart mirror the stormy conflicts of their world.

The story begins in the heart of Sarodivia, a nation ravaged by the power and greed of Kesath, whose ships wield the power of storms, giving rise to the name The Hurricane Wars. Talasyn, a Sardovian orphan, emerges as last known light weaver on the continent, her very existence a testament to a power believed long ago eradicated by Kesath. Her nemesis is Alaric, the Prince of Kesath, and a powerful shadow weaver, becomes joined in her fate. When their magic clashes, an unexpected confluence happens between light and dark, and their lives become intertwined in ways neither ever expected. This leads them to the secluded vibrant world of Nenavar, inspired by the Philippines, where even the dragons draw from South-Asian mythology. War-time weddings really are all the rage. Guanzon crafts a complex tale of identity, ancestral Mythologies, the fight for freedom, the nuances of nationhood, along with the passionate tension between love and hate that hinges the precarious balance of the fate of the world.

Guanzon's writing style is eloquent and lush, painting detailed pictures with her words. The pacing keeps readers engaged, although I found myself slightly thrown off by the absence of a world-changing cataclysmic twist in the final 100 pages. However, this might be due to my recent dive into Sarah J. Maas' books, which are known for their intense plot twists. The end of the book is still incredibly satisfying, as well as perfectly having set the gears in motion for epic twists and turns to happen in the following books of the series. The character development is subtle yet profound; both Talasyn and Alaric learn to navigate their brash hot-headedness and gradually understand each other. Themes of opposites, enemies to lovers, dark vs light, war, politics, and destiny intricately intwine throughout the narrative, creating a captivating tapestry.

The world-building in this book is extraordinary. While it began as an epic fan fiction, Guanzon has masterfully crafted a unique world with intricate political systems, customs, and mythos. Guanzon's academic background in international politics shines through, adding depth and realism rarely seen to the fantastical elements of the story.

The romance in "The Hurricane Wars" is a slow burn of the highest order. Guanzon expertly entwines romance and spice, making the reader cheer for these two oblivious souls falling for each other amidst the chaos.

This book is a treasure for fans of slow-burn enemies-to-lovers stories set in a meticulously crafted fantasy world of magic and politics. I wholeheartedly recommend it, rating it 10/10 stars. "The Hurricane Wars" is an excellent book, a testament to Guanzon’s exceptional writing. I loved it and greedily anticipate the next installment.

#books #booktok #reylo #reading #bookworm #book review #booklover #book rec #bookstagram #the Hurricane Wars #Thea Guanzon #enemies to lovers #political intrigue #published fan fic

[eretzyisrael]

by Zach Kessel

Last week, I wrote about the upcoming Palestine Writes Literature Festival, to be held at the University of Pennsylvania from September 22 to 24. Featuring as speakers noted antisemites, running the gamut from Marc Lamont Hill to Roger Waters, the festival promises to be a veritable cornucopia of hatred of Jews: calls for ethnic cleansing of Jews from the land of Israel, accusations of Jews being subhuman, insinuations that a Jewish cabal controls American media, you name it. If it’s a form of antisemitism, it’s sure to be found on Penn’s campus this weekend. I hope it’s a coincidence that the festival’s last day coincides with Yom Kippur, the holiest day in Judaism.

There’s an update to this story, and for those familiar with the rising tide of antisemitism on college campuses across the country, it shouldn’t come as a surprise. Since the festival began drawing attention over the past week or so, there have been strident responses from the university’s Jewish alumni and supporters. More than 2,000 such concerned individuals signed an open letter sent to the university’s president, Liz Magill, urging her to issue a statement — without equivocating or falling into both-sides-ism, as higher-education administrators often do when they lack the courage to condemn antisemitism — “specifically denouncing the event’s platforming of known antisemitic speakers.” The letter’s authors noted that, had a university department sponsored a festival promoting anti-black or anti-Asian racism, homophobia, or any other kind of bigotry, there’s no question that Penn would immediately distance itself from and condemn the event. Of course, within the academy and progressive intelligentsia more broadly, Jews are themselves oppressors, and antisemitism isn’t a legitimate form of hatred deserving of attention.

Though the University of Pennsylvania does and should aim to foster an environment of free expression, the letter notes, “neither academic freedom nor freedom-of-speech principles prevent the university from using its own voice to speak out against antisemitism wherever and whenever it occurs, especially on campus.” The Palestine Writes organizers have a right to voice their opinions, but they do not have the right to do so on Penn’s land.

It turns out that’s too much to ask of Magill. In a statement obtained by Jewish Insider, she made perfunctory comments about how the university opposes all forms of hate including antisemitism, how Waters has been roundly condemned for his past words and actions, and how she is “personally committed more than ever to addressing antisemitism in all forms.” You’d think part of that commitment might entail disallowing such vile displays from taking place on the campus she runs. Apparently, at least in Magill’s eyes, it doesn’t. She invoked the university’s “responsibility to foster open dialogue and cultural diversity on campus.” But there’s a massive difference between open dialogue and cultural diversity and tacitly endorsing speakers who traffic in this kind of antisemitism.

And then, Thursday morning, something at once entirely predictable and yet bone-chilling for Penn’s Jewish students happened: A student at the university vandalized the school’s Hillel building. As the Daily Pennsylvanian reported, “a regular attendee” opened the building’s doors for a morning service, and the culprit entered:

“When I walked into Hillel, I noticed that the lobby was completely trashed — one of the podiums was smashed, one of the tables was smashed. There was stuff everywhere,” [University of Pennsylvania student Marc] Fishkind said. . . . “He immediately started smashing things, yelling ‘F**k the Jews’ and ‘They killed JC,’” Fishkind recounted from what he was told by someone who was there, adding that eventually, the perpetrator ran out of Hillel as the police arrived.

Make no mistake: As university president, Magill bears responsibility. By allowing the Palestine Writes Literature Festival to take place on her campus, and by allowing multiple academic departments to co-sponsor the event, she has helped foster an environment of antisemitism at Penn that empowers people like the student who vandalized the Hillel building. Magill doesn’t seem to understand that her inaction has consequences and that by building a permission structure for antisemitism, she has allowed antisemitic acts to occur.

It’s insane that we have to keep writing about events such as these. From my May 2022 piece in National Review:

Last month, several student groups signed a statement written by NYU School of Law’s Students for Justice in Palestine chapter defending terrorist attacks against Israeli civilians and accusing Zionists of controlling the media, a well-worn antisemitic canard. On April 26, Georgetown Law School’s Students for Justice in Palestine chapter hosted Mohammed El-Kurd, an activist who has accused Israelis of harvesting the organs of dead Palestinians and of having “an unquenchable thirst for Palestinian blood & land.” In recent weeks, the Rutgers chapter of Alpha Epsilon Pi — a historically Jewish fraternity — faced multiple incidents of antisemitic harassment. First, activists waving Palestinian flags yelled antisemitic slurs and spat at fraternity brothers. A few days later, vandals threw eggs at AEPi’s house during the fraternity’s Holocaust Remembrance Day proceedings — the second year in a row the house was egged during Yom HaShoah. On Saturday, April 23, at Northwestern, where I am an undergraduate, the Students for Justice in Palestine chapter organized a candlelight vigil and painted messages across Northwestern’s “Rock,” a boulder on campus that student organizations paint for various promotional purposes. By Tuesday morning, alongside the SJP chapter’s Instagram username, the rock bore the slogan “From the River to the Sea.”

Hatred of Jews on campus, of course, didn’t end in May 2022. Antisemitic attacks at American universities have nearly doubled in 2023, and almost 60 percent of Jewish college students in the United States have either experienced or witnessed antisemitism at their places of learning, according to an Ipsos poll. Another Ivy League school, Princeton University, has included on a humanities course syllabus the book The Right to Maim, which claims that Israelis harvest Palestinians’ organs, a variant on the time-worn “blood libel” canard.

The longer academic institutions take to actually address antisemitism on their campuses, the longer they’re allowing it to flourish. By hiding behind rote affirmations of a school’s commitment to diversity, to equity, to whatever progressive buzzwords they like to emblazon on their overpaid and underworked administrators’ doors — and by refusing to act when the time comes, like right now — university presidents like Liz Magill create the conditions in which, for instance, Hillel buildings are vandalized. I’m left with only one question: What did she think was going to happen?

#palestine writes literature festival #antisemitism #university of pennsylvania #campus antisemitism #liz magill

[siriannatan]

Empires Arknights AU - Scott fWhip

Is it an excuse to ramble about one of my favourite games? Maybeeeee… {: <3<3<3

Slightly lore-dumpy explanation of stuff (can probably be skipped):

Arknights - tower defence gatcha

Lungmen - mobile, modern Chinese/Japanesee style city

Liberi - bird people {reference}

Lung - asian style dragon {reference} people as oposed to draco {reference}

Ægir - fish people {reference}

Leithanien - Arknights Germany

Victoria - Arknights UK

Wei - leader of Lungmen

Lin's - old Lin, or Rat King is kinda the godfather of Lungmen underworld, his {granddaughter} is to take over after him

Penguin Logistics - a logistics company with an actual penguin for a boss

Siracusa - Arknights Italy, full of wolf-people, minus Vatican, that's Laterano, totally separate place with Sankta - angels with guns

L.G.D. - Lungmen Guard Departmen, kind of Lungmen police

Hoshiguma - member of the Special Service of Lungmen Guard Department {reference}

Ch'en - Special Inspection Unit Chief, L.G.D. {reference}

Scott was having a great day. Yes, he spent most of it in his high-rise office. Taking in appointments, and making phone calls. But at least today no one pulled out a gun on him. Just the thought of the few rude 'customers' was enough to have the Liberi's feathers ruffled. With a sigh, he calmed down and glanced at the clock. Nicely made, imported from Leithanien. He had some fond memories of a brief stay there in his youth. Not that it was that long ago.

He was starting to wonder how long he should stay, waiting for his last guest when his door swung open. An angry Lung, dressed in rather traditional Lungmen garb. Ginger hair tied in a long braid. Scott kind of hated it. Blue eyes narrowed in a glare that the Liberi met with a polite smile.

"Punctual as always, Mr fWhip," he greeted with his best 'Victorian', as fWhip called it, smile.

"Don't give me that, why did you send assassins after me this time?" he asked, taking most of the couch opposite of Scot's desk.

"I simply didn't want you to ignore my invitation, unlike the last time I sent one," Scott's smile faltered slightly. fWhip could be damn annoying. Unfortunately, he was Lungmen's best when it came to explosives and Scott's... business often needed them. "Would you like some tea? I recently received a shipment of Victoria's finest," he offered, the legal part of his business was all about trade. Less legal... also imports but of things Mr Wei would approve. Lin's certainly did like him.

"Sure, why not," the Lung huffed. He did keep his eye on Scott as he made the two cups. "You still insist on dressing like a Victorian," he huffed. For some reason, he was really against Scott's suits.

"Well, that's where I'm from after all," Scott shrugged. And Victorian clothes were comfier for him. He did not mention that.

"What did you get me to come here for? And be glad I didn't report you to Madam Ch'en. She's not let you go no matter how much Lin's like you," he huffed. Ever loyal to Wei. How boring.

"Right to the business," Scott shook his head. "Maybe I just wanted to share a cup of tea with a friend?"

fWhip laughed at that. "Yeah right. What do you want?"

Scott sighed. How Lung of fWhip. "I need help locating a certain box for an acquaintance. Miss Ling brought him here so it's kind of important. But relics are not quite my cup of tea, but then I remembered a friend who has a nice collection," he said, giving up on playing with fWhip.

"Acquaintance? Lin Yühsia? Now that's interesting," fWhip mused. 

"Mhm. I have no idea where she found an Ægir here," not that it was all that interesting to him.

"Why didn't she just go to Penguin Logistics? I'm sure they could find it easily."

"Maybe she needed some more... finesse?" Scott offered with a giggle. "They are certainly fun but I think the Ægir she dragged here would drop dead after just seeing them," he giggled setting a teacup in front of fWhip. Victorian make, of course, just to annoy him further.

"Maybe, but really... Did it have to be damn Siracusans you send? They're a pain to deal with," fWhip huffed, taking a sip. He said nothing so it had to be good.

"You're still here so not that bad," Scott did not regret sending assassins after fWhip. It always got him to his office. "So how about we leave the box for tomorrow, and spend the rest of today on..." he said as he settled next to fWhip, "...me apologising to you?" he finished, one hand resting on fWhip's thigh.

"Fine, but you have a lot to apologise for, I had to talk to L.G.D.'s  Madam Hoshiguma, I don't want to repeat that anytime soon..." fWhip sighed as he finished his tea. It was always fun to hear him indirectly complain about his height.

#my stuff #my stories #fanfiction #empires smp #empiresshipping #empires scott #empires fwhip

[merrikstryfe]

[...]As if this is the first time in history that a war or catastrophe has provoked bigotry. But this is always the case. Just as Islamophobia rose after 9/11, and just as anti-Asian hate rose with the onset of the pandemic, so antisemitism is rising now. One could even say the same about anti-German and anti-Japanese stereotypes in the 1940s.  None of this is to excuse these spikes in bigotry, or to deny that the bigotry exists and is dangerous. It is only to note that the most obvious explanation for the current eruption is not a grand meta-narrative of American or European history, but rage at an ongoing war in which Israel’s conduct has received widespread international condemnation.

I really appreciate this disambiguation between "there is more antisemitism showing after October 7" and "there is an ancient conspiracy of hatred against the Jews that is reemerging". Yes, racism; no, grand organized principle of jew-hate.

#antisemitism

[waitmyturtles]

Okay, so color me surprised. I thought Double Savage was going down an incomprehensible and overdramatic road (New Siwaj side-eyes) -- in the words of the lovely @shortpplfedup, shit do still be happening -- but with this episode, especially the ending, Rung’s trajectory, and the preview to the last episode, I’m actually finding myself quite moved and devastated. Episode 9 thoughts, here we go (only one episode this week -- episode 10, the finale, is next week). 

So what trauma trajectories have we seen in this series? From Dad Beng casting out Korn and willingly subjecting his unwilling family to psychological abuse; to Korn choosing a life of crime to survive, because that’s all he literally thinks he deserves; to us seeing Win rise and fail at his career, because he’s never processed that he was set up to be the golden boy, and hasn’t faced real adversity in his life; to Rung, naturally reckless and impulsive, getting caught in Korn’s and Mek’s webs and trajectories, and processing it as recklessly and impulsively as ever. 

The metaphor here is the drop of rain that splashes in the ocean, causing the start of the pulse of energy that creates a wave. To me, this show has taken a turn towards 10 Years Ticket, and has begun really coalescing the community trauma aspect of Dad Beng’s history of violence against Korn. (And I’ll DEFINITELY count in this Li’s and Ah’s clear attraction here, because -- we now know, from the last episode, that Li doesn’t work, she may not have even gone to college, and who else is in her external community that she engages with? We don’t see it. So who else WOULD she be attracted to, but the people that her family engages with? It’s actually, incredibly, a very common and natural way to meet partners in traditional Asian societies like the Thai-Chinese society that this whole show is rooted in. And it’s not surprising to me that it’s happening. And Korn’s “yo, I’m out” reaction when he was seeing it was hilarious to me, but anyway.)

But I’m now realizing that Rung’s own independent streak -- her recklessness -- was another drop of rain in this ocean, one that absolutely matched the energy of the trauma that Korn’s family was emanating. I get why Rung wants revenge on Korn and his family -- I get that taking the fall for that drug run in the truck was devastating to her -- but I really happen to like this metaphor of multiple “good” people in the show not taking ACCOUNTABILITY for their actions (Dad Beng, Rung, Win), and that the “bad” people who ARE taking or HAVE taken accountability (Korn, Ah, Mek) are the ones who originally had to turn to crime to escape their realities with the so-called “good people” in the first place. And then Mek paid for it -- he paid for Rung’s recklessness, just as Korn has, too. 

It’s another scenario of how-the-world-should-work getting twisted and turned over, as the police captain was ultimately implicated in the middle of a drug war. Who knows if Rung could have lived a straight-arrow life -- maybe not, considering how impulsive she is.

In any case, while I think this show could be interpreted as messy, I actually, again surprisingly, think it came together in a heartbreaking way. I think the last scene -- seeing Win confirm that he WILL go against his morality and try to set Rung free -- is exactly what we could have expected of him, and exactly where we know Rung wants to take him. And it’s messed up and heartbreaking to me. Mek’s death and Korn and Rung’s reactions were wonderfully acted.

And I think the last thing that’s gutted me about this episode is that in the preview for the finale, we see that damn mother FINALLY confronting Dad Beng and saying the thing that’s long needed to be said -- “your kids hate each other now. Are you happy?” It might seem overdramatic to some, but I think it got my Asian heart in a weird place. 

Because that Asian silent mother thing is very real. Families and siblings are left to burn on their own so very often, without structure from a sensible, mature parent or a stable family infrastructure. Middle children like Korn -- darker-skinned, maybe clumsy, maybe struggling at school -- are left to flap in the wind, while praise is heaped on the golden children. I’ve seen this paradigm fail in the adult lives of children time and time again, and to be honest -- this show nails how that paradigm is just always set up to fail, and it got me good for this episode. 

#double savage #double savage the series #double savage meta #ohm pawat #perth tanapon #film rachanun #asian family systems #asian family trauma #family systems

[trolagygirl2022]

The astrology of Jay Chang

Jay's birthtime has not been confirmed so ignore the houses!!

To give a quick rundown if you don't know who he is.

Jay is a former contestant of Mnet's survival show called "Boys Planet" where boys from different countries had to compete to debut in a new boy group. Ever since this man was announced, everyone and their MAMA have been tearing this young man to SREADS. Went as far to crate false rumors against him to ruin his career. Though what has he done to deserve this malicious amount of hate?

This WILL contain BP spoilers!

His Asteroid "Webb" (3041) is in Scorpio at 27 degrees, and let me tell you, I let out a chuckle seeing that. If you were not in the Boys Planet fandom when this happened, people basically said they didn't like him because "he was annoying/they didn't like how he talked," which basically shows he was hated for speech (Gemini rules the mouth). Also, he just got hate trains for no reason; it's like people woke up deciding to hate on him. (He HAS to be a Scorpio rising somehow because he was also criticized for his looks.)

Asteroid "Nemesis" (128) in his supposed 12th house (12th house rules over enemies) again shows he got hate in the spotlight (5 degrees) and for basically no reason.

Now if his asteroid "Asia" (67) is in the 8th house then that explains why he is unpopular among Asian fans. Mnet would constantly sabotage him, giving him no screentime and pushing Korean trainees than him even though this man is INSANLY talented (Even a vocal coach of SM the company known for powerhouse vocals said he had better vocals then, that should tell you a LOT!). At the end of BP he ranked 10th place which stunned and angered many (including myself). He was ranked 3rd in global votes but due to the xenophobic nature of some Asian fans he was ranked 17th place in Korean votes :( like.. (in one episode he had 1 million+ global votes but 60k Korean votes, 60K!!)

Dwarf Planet "Eris" (136199) in can indicate being hated on for being "annoying" so it being in his 10th house kinda says a lot...

Let's take a look at the busy 6th house!

Asteroid "Fan" (151590) in Sagittarius conjunct Pluto. Us Jaystar's are a very big powerful fandom. We also come from many different countries as well and we have been CARRYING this man in votes (if not of kvotes being prioritized more than gvotes he would have debuted smh) The Gemini degree shows his fans have been very vocal on Mnet's unfair treatment towards him too. Chiron in his possible 6th house shows he must have been affected by his open enemies too. I can only imagine his mental state. Also mars in conjunct asteroid fan and again Jaystars have been aggressive and motivated in helping him succeed (even going as far as to get him into HYBE labels lmfao)

Lilith in Aquarius. Yeah, he was disliked for being unique and not being like other trainees was. He's wasian, he has a unique face, he has a fantastic singing voice (just pay attention to asteroid singer in Aries real quick!) and him having ADHD as well. 11 degrees shows he was disliked online too.

Luckily, he has hope as I want to talk about his Jupiter conjunct Saturn. Jupiter is lucky, fast-paced etc. Saturn is the opposite of that. Satrun is the restrictions of life. I feel like with every rejection he faces, with every negative things that comes his way it will reproduce into something amazing for him and he will reap what he sows when the time is right.

Thanks for reading! Let me know what idols to examine in my inbox!

#jay chang #jay chang boys planet #boys planet #boys planet astrology #jay chang astrology #kpop astrology #kpop birth time #kpop birth chart #kpop birth chart reading