#and because he made it and now has a wife and daughter i can retain the hope that I'll have that too one day

[clairewriteshaikyuuxreader]

His kid asks him to stay away (Oikawa, Atsumu)

Inspired by two scenes from Gilmore Girls. 

Oikawa is surprised but beaming when he finds his daughter standing outside his hotel suite. "Hey, princess!" He envelopes Yuma (悠真) in a tight hug, which she reluctantly returns.

"I'm sorry I didn't call–" 

Tooru shakes his head, squeezing her shoulders. "Nonsense. You're always welcome here. Hey, I made that corned beef that you like. The one with potatoes? I can heat them up right now. Come inside."

"No, that's okay. Listen, dad..." She takes a step back, pulling herself away from his arms. "Mom has a boyfriend."

Tooru blinks. "Oh."

"It's Uncle Iwa."

He inhales sharply. "Yeah, I...I heard."

Japan's team had a plethora of colorful characters, and the more noisy members liked to talk online and post photos of their unknowing teammates, coaches, and trainers. One particular trainer had many candid photos of him and Oikawa's ex wife in the background. You were never active in social media, so Tooru shamefully relied on his daughter's posts to see how you were doing. Her posts were always the same: friends, school, you and her together. You two were like the happier, healthier version of the Gilmore Girls. And there was no other man in your life as far as he can tell.

Everything was fine until last month.

Last month was your first birthday after the divorce. Tooru was in Argentina and could only send a polite greeting and of course, you only sent a simple 'thank you.' 

The same time, his daughter uploaded two photos: one was of you two, and the other was of you and his best friend, sitting awfully close to each other. 

He remembered that day like it was yesterday. After seeing Iwaizumi so close to you with the faintest red in his face, he had to know, he had to ask.

Three rings before the trainer picked up.

"What the hell, Trashykawa–"

"Are you seeing my wife?"

"..."

Tooru didn't even need an answer. The silence spoke for itself. But he wanted to hear what his friend had to say.

"Oikawa..."

"Please, Iwa-chan. Tell me the truth," he whispers. Iwaizumi had to have known how much Tooru still loves you, how much he wants to turn back time and fix everything. He had to know, because Tooru cried to him the night he signed the papers.

On the other side of the line, Iwaizumi inhales. Then he says, "She's not your wife anymore."

Tooru hung up. He was glad that Japan was an ocean away, because he would've driven straight to Iwaizumi's house and beat him up.

"Dad?" his daughter calls out to him.

"Sorry, sweetie, daddy spaced out for a bit."

His daughter examines his face, her own expression hesitant but determined. She sticks her hands into her coat pocket and speaks up again: "I want you to stay away from them."

Time stills and Tooru feels sick. "You...what?"

"Dad, I love you but...but you hurt mom."

"Honey, I– "

"And it doesn't matter if you mean to or not, you just do. You just do. And before you start, you should know that mom never speaks bad about you, well, not in front of me anyway--"

Tooru should be proud. Even at this moment his sweet Yuma retains his and your snarkiness. But right now he just wants to throw up. 

"My point," she continues, "is that I'm not here because mom says you're the devil."

"I know. Your mom isn't like that."

"So then you know that she doesn't deserve getting clobbered."

"... I do."

"She deserves to be happy, dad, and Uncle Iwa makes her happy. I know that you must be mad and hurt but I'm begging you to please let them be."

Tooru can't bring himself to open his mouth as his daughter brushes back her hair, trying to hold back her tears. "I'm still gonna visit you and you can visit me. You can get angry at them and me but don't do anything because... because you should see how mom smiles now."

He understands. Looking back at it now, he couldn't recall the last time you smile so genuinely when you were with him.

His little girl, acting not so little anymore, rubs her face. "Anyway, that's all I got to say. It was nice seeing you."

"Wait–"

"I still have to meet up with my friends."

"At least let me drive–"

"This isn't Argentina, dad," she points out. 

He doesn't have a car here. "Right." 

She gives him a pitying look but only mutters out a "bye" before leaving.

Tooru silently opens the door to his hotel room. 

He heats up the leftover corned beef from last night and sets down his plate on the table, settling in front of the TV.

But he doesn't eat or even listen to the news.

He cradles his head between his hands.

His only daughter, his sweet, little princess who should be free of troubles, came here just to tell him to stay away.

"Dammit." He swallows the lump in his throat as he fiddles with the ring he refuses to take off. "I'm pathetic."

You didn’t ask much. You always supported Atsumu, always defended him from your family when your parents accused him of abandoning you, always made excuses and did everything–everything to keep your relationship happy. 

You loved your job and if someone were to go back in time and ask you if you would sacrifice your career for a guy, you’d throw your head back and guffaw, because the idea was insane. But then you met Atsumu, and he wasn’t just some guy. He was the guy. He was sweet and funny and supportive. He adored his mother, he had a good relationship with his brother. He was passionate and he shone brighter than anyone. 

And you loved how much he loved volleyball.

So you didn’t ask for much. 

You didn’t complain when he had to leave you alone when he was off to Argentina or China for weeks and months.

You didn’t whine when he couldn’t accompany you to family reunions and weddings of close friends.

It was your idea to quit your job the moment the test came out positive. 

Sure, you loved your job–love your job–but Atsumu was your whole world. You never thought you’d have someone like him in your life and you were determined to be happy with him and the bundle of joy you two made.

Your son was born healthy. Hiroyuki (ヒロユキ), you decided to name him. Atsumu was there and he showed off the little runt to the doctor who delivered, to the nurses who helped, and your family members waiting outside.

You didn’t expect yourself to end up the way you did, but everything was fine.

Your boys were healthy.

Your husband was doing great. Every week there was always a shower of praise for your genius setter.

Your son grew up nothing like his dad though: while Atsumu was brash and loud-mouthed, his son was a quiet and polite boy who hated conflict; while Atsumu lived for volleyball, his son hated getting dirty and sweaty and preferred academics.  

You and Atsumu still wanted him to be healthy though, so you encouraged him to exercise and pursue other hobbies.

Your son only begrudgingly agreed to get you both to shut up.

Everything was great.

You were great. You were content. 

But then you saw it, a single message from an unknown number on your husband’s phone.

“I had an amazing night. Call me when you’re in the city.”

Your shining world crumbled in an instant.

You couldn’t remember what you did next. You vaguely recall smashing the device into a mirror and locking yourself in the guest bedroom. 

The next six months were a blur, too.

You froze out your husband though you didn’t tell your son the truth, only telling him that mommy and daddy just couldn’t be with each other anymore. Some people were appalled that you wanted to get a divorce. “Because so what if he cheated?” They had asked. “Think of your son.”

You did think of your son. Ever since you discovered you were pregnant with him, you always thought of your son. 

The divorce was for his sake as much as yours, because you had no guarantee that you wouldn’t end up murdering his father if you stayed next to him.

So you bought a different house in the next city, got your old job back, and got divorced. Shared custody. 

The whole ordeal felt unreal. Every day, you felt like you would float out to space, but you had Hiroyuki, who liked to tug on your pants and remind you: “I’m here, mama.”

You would laugh and give him the tightest hug every time. You wished you didn’t cry so much every time though. You wanted to be stronger for both of you.

And you were strong enough.

With your baby and your job back, you became too busy to even think about your cheating ex. 

Fast forward years later and it’s now your baby’s middle school graduation.

“You’re now a man!”

“Stop it, mom.”

“Whatever happened to ‘mama’?”

“Mom.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” You kissed his cheek. “Your dad should be here soon.”

“It’s okay, I’m not a kid anymore, you don’t have to lie.”

You gently flicked his forehead. “I made sure to tell him.”

He blinked. “You did?”

“I did.”

“When…when did you tell him?”

“Last week–”

“You didn’t have to tell him.” 

“He’s still your dad.”

“Yeah, my dad,” he bitterly repeats. Although the lawyers agreed on shared custody, the man was rarely around. When it was Atsumu’s turn to take care of Hiroyuki, he was almost never at home and the people who took care of the kid were either his mom or his brother. Truth be told, Hiroyuki didn’t care. How could he possibly forget the many days he caught his mom trying desperately to hide her sadness and the many nights she sobbed in her bedroom when she thought her son was asleep? Children weren’t idiots. And Hiroyuki never bought into the idea that kids needed a mother and a father either. Why would he? He grew up with only his mother being there for him, so why would he need his father now?

“I would’ve called him myself if you really wanted him here,” he says.

“It’s not about me wanting him here, it’s about him having to want to be here, and he should be here. It’s his only son’s graduation.”

“Middle school graduation. It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing.”

“It’s a celebration in mediocrity.” 

“That’s a lot coming from the valedictorian and…” You fall quiet.

“What’s wrong?” He turns to follow your line of sight. 

He exhales when he sees his sperm-donor walking into the auditorium, dressed in a clean polo shirt and some woman hanging off his elbow.

His Uncle Samu’s right: the man’s an idiot.

“Hey, mom, could you get me a soda?”

“Huh?” You snap out of your trance. 

“I’m kinda thirsty.”

You try to protest but quickly quiet down before giving your son a sad smile and walking towards the cafeteria.

Hiroyuki inherited his father’s height so it only took a few strides before he caught up to the man and his plus one.

“Hi dad.”

Atsumu grins at his son. “There he is, the man of the hour. Happy graduation, kid!”

Hiroyuki bites his lip. He hates how oblivious this guy is. He hates how he could smile like this and bring this woman with him like nothing’s wrong and that everything is okay. 

He doesn’t say anything else and an awkwardness falls between the three of them.

Atsumu clears his throat and gestures towards his date. “Have you met–”

“–no.” Hiroyuki shuts him down. “Dad, can we talk? Alone.”

The woman looks peeved and makes a face, like she’s expecting Atsumu to get mad on her behalf, but the volleyball player only shrugs and pulls his arm away from her. “Sure thing.”

The two guys walk to a corner in the room, away from prying eyes.

“Hey, I got you some cash but it kinda feels like it’s not enough, so do you have anything you want for today?”

Without hesitation, Hiroyuki speaks up: “Stay away from mom.”

Atsumu’s head swerves and he is forced to look straight into the clear, unyielding eyes of his only son. 

There is a pause.

Atsumu lets out a nervous chuckle. “I’m sorry, I thought I just heard you say that you want me to stay away from your mom.”

“You heard right.” Hiroyuki crosses his arms. “Dad, I know what you’re trying to do.”

“What’re you talking about?”

“Bringing that woman here? I know you’re trying to make mom jealous.”

“That’s ridiculous! First of all, that woman is named Ochaco.”

“What’s her last name?”

“...”

“Dad, just stop. That’s the best thing you can give me.”

“Son–”

“I know you still love her.” Hiroyuki knows how the man looks at you, because it’s the same look you had whenever you heard his name or saw him on the news. He hates that you’re still in love with your ex, because those feelings blinded you from realizing how his Uncle Samu looks at you; Samu who helped you move, Samu who packed your things into boxes because you couldn’t bear a second longer in Atsumu’s house, Samu who made sure you and Hiro were always fed, Samu who could comfort you in ways Hiro couldn’t because you didn’t want to look weak in front of your boy. “But you can’t be together, not anymore, so please just stop these stupid games and go back.”

“What?”

“I have mom, I have Uncle Samu, they’re all I need.” 

“Hiro–”

The speakers blared with feedback before the emcee called for all graduates to find their seats. 

“I have to go. Bye, dad.”

Atsumu wants to pull back his son, to talk with him, but seeing his little boy walking confidently away from him broke his heart.

He bites his lip.

He really did f*** up. 

#hq!! #haikyuu!! #haikyuu #hq x reader #atsumu #atsumu miya #atsumu x y/n #atsumu miya x y/n #oikawa #oikawa tooru #oikawa x y/n #love triangle #unrequited love #angst #hurt #comfort #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi x y/n #married life #divorced #osamu #osamu miya #osamu x y/n #osamu x reader #son #daughter #fem reader #fem y/n #i'm tired

[sequinsmile-x]

Stained Glass Windows - Chapter Fifty Two

Life was complicated, but they wouldn't have it any other way.

-x-

Hi friends,

As always, thank you so much for your love on this fic! It genuinely means the world to me. I've been writing this version of them for almost a year now, and they mean so much to me!

I hope you enjoy this one...we're on the edge of some more drama!

-x-

Words: 3.1k

A full list of warnings for the fic can be found on the Series Master List and will be updated as we go along.

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Aaron smiles as he paces back and forth in the living room, patting Lily’s back having just fed her. She grumbles and rubs her face into the muslin he’d thrown over his shoulder to protect his suit jacket. 

“I know, Lily-Pad,” he says, kissing the side of her head, empathy infused into his voice, “Daddy and the bottle aren’t as good as Mommy but she has to get ready for work, so you’re stuck with me this morning.” 

In the few weeks since Emily had returned to work, they’d formed a routine. Usually, she’d feed Lily when she woke up, both a need physically to ease any discomfort and something she liked to do anyway. Enjoying the moments of silence and peace she’d get with her little girl first thing in the morning, something she found all the more precious since she’d returned to work. It helped ease some of the guilt that had seemingly taken permanent residence in her chest, hunkered down in the very centre of it, ever since the moment she dropped Lily off to daycare for the first time. She’d spoken to JJ about it, called her friend who she hadn’t seen since she left the BAU and asked if it was normal. If the guilt of trying to be someone’s mother whilst also retaining the ability to be yourself would ever fade. 

She’s not sure if it made her feel better or not that JJ had said she felt the same way, an edge to her voice that let Emily know there was more to it these days than her friend could share. 

This morning had been a break from their routine. Lily hadn’t slept much, restless for a reason neither of them had been able to figure out unless she was in Emily’s arms. She’d finally gone to sleep in the small hours of the morning, and Aaron had suggested he took the baby this morning to give his wife some much needed time to herself and some precious extra minutes in bed. 

Lily looks up at him, her cheek resting on his shoulder, and she smiles, wide and gummy and always enough to make his heart swell. She was Emily through and through, beautiful and stubborn in a way that he knew would drive him crazy when she was a teenager. 

His phone rings from his pocket and he adjusts his hold on Lily, making sure she’s secure against his chest. He pulls his phone from his pocket and sees Penelope’s name on the screen and he looks down at his daughter. 

“Looks like Daddy has a case,” he says before he answers, “Morning Garcia” 

“Morning Sir,” she replies, “DC Police have just been in touch, they want our help with a case.”

“How many victims are we talking?” He asks, grateful that it seemed he’d be working locally for once. 

“Only the one, but-”

He cuts her off as Lily grabs his tie, pulling it with more force than he’d think a baby just shy of four months old would be capable of.

“Angel, don’t do that,” he says, pressing the phone between his shoulder and ear to release her grip from his tie.

“Sir…did you just call me Angel? Because I like the nickname but you usually blush when you call me Penelope.” 

He sighs and rolls his eyes even though Penelope can’t see him, “Sorry to burst your bubble  Garcia, but I was talking to Lily.” 

He winces as she screeches down the phone. Any mention of his little girl always made Penelope giddy, a wide grin on her face as she would always inevitably ask him if they were planning on having any other children. He hoped that one day, especially because he knew his wife definitely wanted at least one more, that the question wouldn’t strike fear in his gut. A spark of something that hadn’t completely faded, still prone to catching fire again at the memory of Lily’s birth. How he’d spent close to an hour thinking he’d lose one or both of them, how he could still see the fear on Emily’s face when they were told what was happening. A memory seared into his brain, burnt into the back of his eyelids so he’d see it whenever he closed his eyes. 

“Oh, how is she? Emily sent the funniest picture-”

“Garcia,” he says, well aware if he let her carry on they’d lose track of why she’d called in the first place, “Why do DCPD want us involved if there’s only one victim? That’s not really enough for us to build them a profile.”

“It’s more to do with what the unsub did,” she says, clearing her throat before she continues, “The victim's lips were removed.” 

He pauses, frozen in place as Penelope’s words wash over him, and he swallows thickly, shaking off how he’d briefly been affected. 

“Tell the team to get to the office as soon as they can,” he says before they exchange goodbyes and he hangs up. He blows out a breath as he slips his phone back into his pocket and looks down at Lily, “Looks like it’s time for me to go to work.” 

He hears his wife’s familiar footsteps in the hallway and smiles at her as she walks in. He always thought she looked beautiful no matter what she was wearing. If she was dressed up for an event, or simply wearing one of his t-shirts with her hair pulled back she was the most gorgeous woman he’d ever seen. But there was something about her dressed like this, in one of the suits she wore to work, that took his breath away.

He wonders if it’s because it’s what she was wearing when he fell in love with her. Her obvious beauty and clean-cut suits mixed in with her intelligence and her empathy enough to bowl him over, especially now he knew how it felt to be loved by her. 

“Was that Pen with a case?” She asks, walking over and pressing a kiss to his lips, her hand over his on Lily’s back. 

“Yeah,” he replies, shifting Lily so Emily can take her, the baby already reaching for her mother, “It’s only in DC though so I’ll be home tonight.” 

She smiles, grateful that he won’t be going very far, “Did you hear that, Lils?” She asks, kissing Lily’s cheek before she holds her against her chest, “Daddy’s not going very far for work this time,” she smiles back up at her husband, “Do you need to go now?”

He nods and leans in to kiss her, “It’s urgent.”

She kisses him again before she pulls back, one of her hands on his cheek, “Okay, I’ll get here to daycare. Be safe, okay?” 

“You too,” he replies and she rolls her eyes at him. 

“Yes, I’ll try not to get a papercut whilst I’m translating documents today,” she says, winking at him, “Love you.” 

“Love you too,” he replies, and he kisses Lily’s head, “Love you, Lily-Pad.” 

Emily smiles as she watches him go, the sound of him gathering his things and leaving, taking care to close the door behind him as quietly as possible. 

“Okay, sweet girl,” she says, looking down at her daughter, “We should get you to daycare” The only response she gets is Lily throwing up on her shoulder, staining the jacket she’d only just put on. Emily sighs and pats her baby’s back, “Okay, change of plan. Mommy needs to change, then it’s time for daycare.” 

___

Emily smiles as she walks into the BAU’s bullpen, more than ready to go home. She spots the team, all gathered by Derek’s desk and walks over, her smile only widening when Aaron looks up and spots her. 

“Hi sweetheart,” he says as she makes it to his side, and he leans in to stamp a kiss against her cheek. He’d been more relaxed about showing her affection at work since she’d stopped working for him directly, something she secretly relished in no matter how much she sometimes chastised him for it, but she knows it was also because the bullpen was largely empty apart from the BAU. 

“Hi,” she replies, looking around the team. It was hard to get her head around the fact she wasn’t part of the team anymore. She missed it sometimes but she knew she’d left for the right reasons, she’d never wanted to turn into her mother and this was her way of making sure of it. She smiles as she looks at a woman she’d never met before, the newest member of the team that she knew to be Alex Blake. She’d met the other new member, Ashley Seaver, a couple of weeks ago.  “We haven’t met, I’m Agent Prentiss, I’m in the counterterrorism unit.” 

“She’s also Hotch’s wife,” Derek says, winking at Emily when she glares at him, “In case you’re worried he’s going to start kissing all of us.” 

“Lovely to meet you,” Alex says as she purposely ignores Derek, already making her go up in Emily’s estimations. She puts her hand out for Emily to shake and she returns the favour, “I’ve got to say, taking the boss's wife’s old job is a lot of pressure,” she half-jokes, a wry smile on her face, “Big shoes to fill.” 

“Don’t worry about it, Blake,” Dave chimes in, “You’re not even half as much trouble as she was.” 

“Shut up, Dave,” Emily says before she turns back to Alex, “It’s lovely to meet you too. Don’t believe anything Dave says about me,” she smirks as Dave rolls his eyes at her and then looks at the group as a whole, “What are everyone’s plans for the evening?” 

“We’re all going to see Garcia’s play,” Spencer says, “Even though she didn’t want us to know about it at first.” 

Emily smiles and leans into her husband’s side a little, well aware that he felt guilty for accidentally revealing that their friend was going to be in a play to everyone. He’d told her about it when he got home from work last night, his head in his hands as if he’d created some cardinal sin, not simply slipped up whilst they were trying to solve a case with a deadline, a girl’s life at stake. 

“Are you coming, peaches?” Penelope asks, the look in her eyes so hopeful it makes Emily sigh, familiar guilt churning in her gut. 

“Oh, we have to go pick up Lily-”

“I thought you’d hired a babysitter?” Derek asks curiously, and Emily turns to look at her husband. He smiles at her and places his hand on her hip, squeezing it for a moment, a silent promise that he’d go with whatever she wanted, “Hotch told us, some student from one of the universities.” 

“And she’s studying for her masters in Child Development, and she graduated from her undergrad with honours,” Penelope says, her eyes going wide as she realises what she’s said, and Emily sighs, closing her eyes as her husband squeezes her hip again.

“You asked Garcia to look into Amy’s background?” He asks, raising his eyebrow at her as she looks up at him, and she sighs, but is cut off as she opens her mouth to respond. 

“So did you bossman,” Penelope says in defiance and Emily laughs at him, raising her eyebrows at him. 

“You were saying?” She asks, chuckling as he narrows his eyes slightly. 

“That was meant to be a secret, Garcia,” he says, no malice in his voice as he struggles to keep a straight face himself.

“Well, so was my play,” she replies, smiling at him before she looks at Emily, “So are you going to come?”

Emily thinks about it for a moment, her lips pressed together as she looks back and forth between her friend's hopeful faces, and she eventually sighs and nods. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been out with them all, and it would give her a chance to get to know Ashley and Alex better. 

“Okay, sure,” she says, chuckling as Penelope pulls her into a hug, “I’ll call the babysitter.” 

___

“I don’t know why Pen didn’t want us to know about that,” Emily says as they walk into their house, “She was excellent.” 

“She was nervous, sweetheart,” he says, closing the door behind them, “I don’t think I could get on stage in front of everyone.” 

“That’s because you can’t sing, honey,” she replies as she shrugs off her coat, her eyes sparkling with mischief as he scoffs at her.

“I’m not that bad,” he grumbles, taking her coat and hanging it up for her before he takes off his own. 

“Baby,” she says, cupping his cheek, a sympathetic smile on her face, “You suck. Lily actually stops crying when you stop singing to her.” 

He narrows his eyes, but any reply is cut off before it can begin as the babysitter walks down the stairs, the baby monitor in her hand. 

“Mr and Mrs Hotchner,” Amy says quietly, keeping her voice low for the sake of the sleeping baby upstairs, “How was the play?” 

“It was good thank you, Amy,” Aaron says, “How was Lily tonight?” 

“Oh she was an angel, she barely cried all night,” she says, smiling at them, “She woke up about 20 minutes ago but I changed her and she’s settled back down.” 

Emily chuckles, “Nice to know it’s just us she screams the place down for,” she says, glancing up the stairs, almost itching to go and see her baby even though she knows she should let her sleep, “Thank you so much for tonight, especially on such short notice.” 

“It really wasn’t a problem,” Amy says, handing over the monitor and gathering her things, “It gave me a chance to study.”

Aaron and Emily both exchange a small smile over her mention of her studies, their mutual, but separate, requests for Penelope to look into the young girl's background one of the main topics of conversation of the night. Aaron clears his throat and pulls out his wallet, taking out the agreed amount in cash, plus an extra $20 and handing it over to her. 

“Here you go,” he says, “There’s some extra there too for coming over last minute.” 

Amy smiles and nods, folding the money and placing it in her pocket, “Thank you so much.” 

They exchange goodbyes with Amy, and Aaron even goes as far as to make sure she gets into her car safely, even though they live in a good neighbourhood, standing on the porch and keeping watch until she’s in her vehicle. He closes the door and turns back to his wife, smiling as he tugs her into his embrace. 

“It’s still relatively early,” he says, his hands skating up and down her lower back as he pulls her closer, “What do you want to do?” 

“Well,” she says, smiling as she leans in closer, “We could always-” She’s cut off by a loud meow, and turns to see Sergio standing on the side table next to him, his head tilted as he looks at Aaron. The cat stands on his back two paws and places the front two on Aaron’s leg, a not-so-subtle signal that he wants to be picked up. Emily lovingly rolls her eyes and steps back, giving Aaron space to pick up the cat, “I still can’t believe I’m the one who rescued him and you’re the favourite.”

She starts to walk towards the kitchen, Aaron following only a few paces behind her, “He loves you too, Em.”

She looks back at her husband and shakes her head at the sight she’s met with. Sergio is lying back in his arms like a baby, leaning into the head scratches that Aaron is giving him.

“The only time he showed me any kind of attention was when I was pregnant with the tiniest Hotchner,” she grumbles, both of them aware that she wasn’t really annoyed. There was something about watching Aaron with Jack and Lily or with Sergio that made her almost giddy. The difference in size between them and the tender way Aaron would hold them, with hands that she knew carried so much strength, made her fall even more in love with him, “Want some wine?” 

Aaron nods, barely looking up from the content cat in his arms, “Yes please.” 

She walks into the kitchen and heads for the fridge, but is distracted by the blinking light on the phone, “Did we have a message when we left this morning? She asks, wondering who would call them on the house phone and not their cell phones. 

“I don’t think so,” Aaron replies as he walks into the kitchen, now empty-handed since he had a rule about the kitchen and the cat. A rule that was broken more often than it wasn’t. 

Emily hums as she pulls a bottle of white wine out of the fridge, “Can you play it?”

He nods and presses the button, the robotic voice of the answering machine filling the room, providing the time of the call from just before they would have arrived home from the daycare earlier. They’d been home so briefly between then and Amy showing up they hadn’t even stepped into the kitchen. 

“Who the hell even calls the house phone…” Emily drifts off, her rebuke of the mystery caller lost as she freezes in place, a familiar voice filling the room. 

“Emily, it’s your mother. Of course, you know it’s me, it’s probably why you haven’t answered. I know you don’t want to see me, and I know why, but I wanted to speak to you. The incident a few months ago opened my eyes and…well I’ve been going to AA for two months now. I get my two-month chip in a week. My sponsor asked if I was going to invite you and I thought I’d call. It’s at the same place as last time. I hope to see you there. But I understand if I don’t. I lov-”

The message cuts off before it goes any further, and the loud beep that follows echoes around the otherwise silent house. 

-x-

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[certifiedskywalker]

So, House of the Dragon…

This first episode felt like coming home: a stinking, blooding, violently familiar but oh-so fond, home. Westeros is back, but has it retained its knack at awing audiences?

I think so, but I'm nervous. Here's why.

Spoilers for House of the Dragon.

As I said, House of the Dragon truly did feel like a homecoming. Delving back into Westeros' deep and dark corners gives this show an edge as we, the viewers, are already connected to this world. We are returning to a place and people that, at some point during the run of Game Of Thrones, notwithstanding season eight, we fell in love with. For better or for worse.

The Houses, the High Valyrian, the histories, the armors, the dresses, the DRAGONS! We're back people, in all of GOT's glory and (nearly) none of its dead weight! The showrunners gave us it all! The gore! The Joffrey-esque, typical Prince entitlement that breeds more gore! We were fed that medieval lawlessness that incites a chaos that leaves viewers disturbed, dreading, and desiring.

And, as we all know, chaos is a ladder. With its cast in King's Landing, House of the Dragon reminds us of that fact by referencing GOT's early seasons as a fantastical political drama. Hand of the King, Otto Hightower, is already playing this Game Of Thrones, mostly to keep Daemon Targaryen from ascending as heir to King Viserys. While he mourned the lost Queen and Heir for the Day, Hightower could see opportunity through the smoke of the funeral pyre. He sent his daughter, Alicent Hightower, to comfort the loss-ridden King Viserys; thereby planting a seed of power for him to sow later.

Lest I fail to touch on the titular Targaryens directly, let me do so now. I hate them all, but I love them too. Viserys is so wonderfully characterized as a rather buffoonish King, loyal to his family save where duty intervenes. Like every patriarch, he is blindly obsessed with lineage and blood to fault, to the point where he would so willingly spill the blood of his wife. So, I guess you could say, like any King, Viserys is loyal to his family...as long as it ensures power.

Perhaps that is why he is so quick to demote Daemon: he sees that hunger for power is far too strong in his little brother, the second born. Their bond embodies the cycle of familial betrayal for the sake of personal ambition. Viserys withholds from Daemon. Daemon feels betrayed. Daemons acts out in a way that betrays the little trust Viserys holds for him. The cycle continues...and has.

The twist in House of the Dragon is that we witness the last betrayal. Daemon, who has been set to inherit the Seven Kingdoms during decades of lost heirs, who has been living a life of a lavish Prince, is deposed as next in line. He, then, is no more different than the likes of Otto Hightower: a second-born damned to feast off of only what he can take for himself. No wonder Daemon hates Otto. He is him, even more so at the end of this first episode! This begs the question of the series: what will Daemon take to feast upon?

Rhaenyra. How wonderful it is to see another young, Targaryen woman take the literal reins. A dragonrider, stubborn, thrill-seeking, and life-loving. Though, a coming-of-age story like this is one to be weary of in my book. The treatment of Daenerys Targaryen in the later seasons of GOT was deplorable and my fear is that HOTD showrunners will treat Rhaenyra, who is so similar to her descendant, as a do-over. A character reformed, but not necessarily to fit the shape of this new story.

I say that only because I watched the After the Episode feature at the end of this first episode of House of the Dragon. The showrunners, in my opinion, have entirely misinterpreted parts of their own production. One stated that King Viserys made his choice to save his son out of duty and, while true, for Kings, for Targaryen Kings, duty is so warped by the pureness of their blood, their power, that it was hardly duty at all the drove Viserys to kill his wife. The same applies to the so-called 'love' between the brothers. Yes, Viserys loves Daemon and vice-versa, but only for the promise of power that each ensures to the other. As long as there is a Targaryen atop the Iron Throne, they will be taken care of...until that pesty cycle of betrayal comes up again...until Daemon is deposed by Rhaenyra.

However, one could argue that Viserys only acts to keep a Targaryen on the throne for the sake of the prophecy. You know, the Song of Ice and Fire. I hate this. Not in the same way I hate-love these Targaryens. I truly hate the inclusion of the Song of Ice and Fire, the prophecy of the Long Night. Sure, it was around, lingering as prophecies often do in fantasy settings. But to name it? To make it such a driving force for Rhaenyra's ascension? No.

If anything, this undermines the heart at the House of the Dragon. Instead of trusting viewers to see the connections, hear them in the old names of these new characters, instead of letting us naturally fall back in love with a world we have been without, the showrunners drew a Stark throughline. One that was unneeded and harms the true humanity that this coming-of-age story could hold. Instead of having Rhaenyra feel driven to Queenhood by duty, by learning about her kingdom and wanting to change things, to mend her family, to break the cycle (does this sound familiar?), they gave her something that places her beyond our reach: the weight of prophecy. The weight of the Targaryen lineage, the madness that we saw come from Targaryen's preoccupation with prophecy.

Tyrion said it best: "Prophecy is a half-trained mule. It looks as though it might be useful, but the moment you trust in it, it kicks you in the head." So, I fear the writers of House of the Dragon may have to brace for a strike.

That being said, I am so looking forward to where this show could go that I am more than willing to brace right alongside them.

This story is fruitful and wild and full of whimsy. And DRAGONS. Did I mention that at the top? I hope I did.

#house of the dragon #the house of the dragon #daemon targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #viserys targaryen #hotd #got #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #tyrion lannister

[bllsbailey]

Jill Biden Is an Absolute Disgrace

There’s a word for when someone knowingly says something untrue, or at least their used to be. What used to be “liar” is now expanded to “Democrat,” “liberal,” “progressive,” “scumbag,” “president,” and now “first lady.” 

How dare I say anything negative about the Reverend Doctor Jill Tracy Jacobs Biden Jr. III, esq? Am I unaware of the stories about her not being able to take a bath because she can’t sink in water, only walk on it? I’m just kidding, and apologize for making that joke about a woman who cheated on her first husband with Joe, that was inappropriate. Nothing else you can say about her – like she was basically given an honorary Education Doctorate (Ed. D.) as the wife of a powerful politician, as evidenced by the fact that her 7th grade level “dissertation” was accepted, not to mention is was about retaining community college students, which is expressly NOT the reason community colleges exist – is mean enough. She deserves whatever you’ve got. 

Jill, who insists on being call “Dr. Jill” because that’s what people lacking real accomplishments do, stands idly by as her husband is abused by handlers because she loves the trappings of the White House. An argument could be made that she’s simply too stupid to notice what’s happening, and that is possible, but it’s unlikely. She sees him up close, and has for years. Joe has always been stupid, but the senility is new. It would be harder to miss than all of his groping, grabbing, nibbling, sniffing, rubbing and sexually assaulting over the years, all of which (except the last one) were regularly done in public.

Jill didn’t care. Jill doesn’t care.

But that’s not what inspired me to write this column, bad as those things are. No, it was the 4 fundraising emails she signed last month over 6 days – February 10, 11, 13 and 15 – where she used the death of her step-son, Beau Biden, to raise money for her husband’s reelection campaign. She did this willingly, based on what she either knew was a lie at the time or has since found out was a lie and let it stand. Either way, it is disgusting, though not surprising for someone with the last name “Biden.”

Recommended

Joe has exploited the deaths of his first wife and infant daughter for years, even accusing the driver of the other car in crash of being drunk (something the family had to threaten to sue to get him to stop lying about, which he then did, acknowledging the lie) to elicit more sympathy. And with Beau’s death from brain cancer, Joe has routinely claimed he died in Iraq, even though he died in Bethesda, Maryland, years after a tour of duty in Iraq as a JAG officer. 

Joe lies about the things to make him seem more sympathetic, or to pretend to identify with people who’d lose loved ones recently, sometimes due to his incompetent policies. It’s shameless and gross, but you can’t really expect much more from someone who’s been doing it literally since the early 1970s. 

Jill, on the other hand, hasn’t. For obvious reasons, the deaths of Biden’s first wife and daughter didn’t impact her at the time. But Beau’s death did. She’d been his step-mom for decades at that point. Joe’s lies about it should impact her, should strike her as gross because, well, objectively they are. But she doesn’t care.

If she did, she could say something to him to get him to knock it off. Since he still does it, it’s clear she hasn’t. 

So what was in those fundraising emails signed by Jill that is so disgusting? In each of them – the first 2 had the subject line, “My thoughts on this week” and the other 2, “My thoughts on last week,” each contain, word for word, the following: “I hope you can imagine how it felt to read that attack -- not just as Joe’s wife, but as Beau’s mother. I don’t know what this Special Counsel was trying to achieve. We should give everyone grace, and I can’t imagine someone would try to use our son’s death to score political points. If you’ve experienced a loss like that, you know that you don’t measure it in years -- you measure it in grief. May 30th is a day forever etched on our hearts. It shattered me, it shattered our family.”

This was in reaction to what we now know was yet another lie from Joe – that Special Counsel Robert Hur brought up Beau’s death during his interview about Joe’s theft of classified materials. Joe knew it was a lie. If Jill didn’t at the time, she does now. At a minimum, Jill knows of Joe’s habit of lying, particularly about his own life. If Jill wanted to elicit sympathy and money (which is gross) over the death of her step-son, shouldn’t she be disgusted that her husband lied about who brought it up in that interview?

Wouldn’t a parent, step or otherwise, refuse to sign a fundraising email multiple times inside of a week exploiting that person’s death for money? A decent person would. Jill didn’t. 

It must have worked, or else they wouldn’t have done it that many times in a row. Do those Democrats dumb enough to believe the Bidens about this lie now get their money back? Now that we know Joe lied, that he brought it up (and couldn’t’ remember the year, as was reported but denied by the White House), can they get a refund? 

Hell no. Anyone shameless enough to exploit the deaths of loved ones in the first place isn’t going to give a damn when they’re exposed as frauds. The Biden family has been doing it for so long, it’s likely impossible for them to feel shame. They blamed Hunter’s use of drugs on Beau’s death too, even though he’d been kicked out of the Navy for multiple positive tests for cocaine years before Beau died.

Like I said, they’re all shameless. But they don’t all insist on being called “Doctor,” they aren’t using their position to lie to raise money, and they aren’t all uniquely positioned to make sure none of this happened in the first place, or happens again and do nothing about it. That is a position occupied exclusively by Jill.

Derek Hunter is the host of a free daily podcast (subscribe!) and author of the book, Outrage, INC., which exposes how liberals use fear and hatred to manipulate the masses, and host of the weekly “Week in F*cking Review” podcast where the news is spoken about the way it deserves to be. Follow him on Twitter at @DerekAHunter.

[tpanan]

My Sunday Daily Blessings

September 4, 2022

Be still quiet your heart and mind, the LORD is here, loving you talking to you...........                                                                      

Twenty-third Sunday in Ordinary Time (Roman Rite Calendar) Lectionary 129, Cycle C

First Reading: Wisdom 9:13-18b

Who can know God’s counsel, or who can conceive what the LORD intends? For the deliberations of mortals are timid, and unsure are our plans. For the corruptible body burdens the soul and the earthen shelter weighs down the mind that has many concerns. And scarce do we guess the things on earth, and what is within our grasp we find with difficulty; but when things are in heaven, who can search them out? Or who ever knew your counsel, except you had given wisdom and sent your holy spirit from on high? And thus were the paths of those on earth made straight.

Responsorial Psalm:  Psalm 90:3-4, 5-6, 12-13, 14 and 17

" In every age, O Lord, you have been our refuge."

Second Reading: Philemon 9:10, 12-17

I, Paul, an old man, and now also a prisoner for Christ Jesus, urge you on behalf of my child Onesimus, whose father I have become in my imprisonment; I am sending him, that is, my own heart, back to you. I should have liked to retain him for myself, so that he might serve me on your behalf in my imprisonment for the gospel, but I did not want to do anything without your consent, so that the good you do might not be forced but voluntary. Perhaps this is why he was away from you for a while, that you might have him back forever, no longer as a slave but more than a slave, a brother, beloved especially to me, but even more so to you, as a man and in the Lord. So if you regard me as a partner, welcome him as you would me.

Verse before the Gospel: Psalm 119:135

R: Alleluia, Alleluia

"Let your face shine upon your servant; and teach me your laws."

R: Alleluia, Alleluia

**Gospel: Luke 14:25-33

Great crowds were traveling with Jesus, and he turned and addressed them, “If anyone comes to me without hating his father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple. Whoever does not carry his own cross and come after me cannot be my disciple. Which of you wishing to construct a tower does not first sit down and calculate the cost to see if there is enough for its completion? Otherwise, after laying the foundation and finding himself unable to finish the work the onlookers should laugh at him and say, ‘This one began to build but did not have the resources to finish.’ Or what king marching into battle would not first sit down and decide whether with ten thousand troops he can successfully oppose another king advancing upon him with twenty thousand troops? But if not, while he is still far away, he will send a delegation to ask for peace terms. In the same way, anyone of you who does not renounce all his possessions cannot be my disciple.”

**Meditation:

Why does the Lord Jesus say we must 'hate' our families and even ourselves (Luke 14:26)? In Biblical times the expression 'to hate' often meant to 'prefer less'. Jesus used strong language to make clear that nothing should take precedence or first place over God. God our heavenly Father created us in his image and likeness to be his beloved sons and daughters. He has put us first in his love and concern for our well-being and happiness. Our love for him is a response to his exceeding love and kindness towards us. True love is costly because it holds nothing back from the beloved - it is ready to give all and sacrifice all for the beloved. God the Father gave us his only begotten Son, the Lord Jesus Christ, who freely offered up his life for us on the cross as the atoning sacrifice for our sins. His sacrificial death brought us pardon and healing, new life in the Spirit and peace with God.

The cost of following Jesus as his disciples Jesus willingly embraced the cross, not only out of obedience to his Father's will, but out of a merciful love for each one of us in order to set us free from slavery to sin, Satan, and everything that would keep us from his love, truth, and goodness. Jesus knew that the cross was the Father's way for him to achieve victory over sin and death - and glory for our sake as well. He counted the cost and said 'yes' to his Father's will. If we want to share in his glory and victory, then we, too, must 'count the cost' and say 'yes" to his call to "take up our cross and follow him" as our Lord and Savior.

What is the 'way of the cross' for you and me? It means that when my will crosses with God's will, then his will must be done. The way of the cross involves sacrifice, the sacrifice of laying down my life each and every day for Jesus' sake. What makes such sacrifice possible and "sweet" for us is the love of God poured out for us in the blood of Christ who cleanses us and makes us a new creation in him. Paul the Apostle tells us that "God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us" (Romans 5:5). We can never outmatch God in his merciful love and kindness towards us. He always gives us more than we can expect or imagine. Do you allow the Holy Spirit to fill your heart and transform your life with the overflowing love and mercy of God?

The wise plan ahead to avert failure and shame What do the twin parables of the tower builder and a ruler on a war campaign have in common (Luke 14:28-32)? Both the tower builder and the ruler risked serious loss if they did not carefully plan ahead to make sure they could finish what they had begun. In a shame and honor culture people want at all costs to avoid being mocked by their community for failing to complete a task which they had begun in earnest. This double set of parables echoes the instruction given in the Old Testament Book of Proverbs: "By wisdom a house is built" and "by wise guidance you can wage a war" to ensure victory (Proverbs 24:3-6).

In Jesus' time every landowner who could afford it built a wall around his orchard or vineyard as a protection from intruders who might steal or destroy his produce. A tower was usually built in a corner of the wall and a guard posted especially during harvest time when thieves would likely try to make off with the goods. Starting a building-project, like a watchtower, and leaving it unfinished because of poor planning or insufficient funds would invite the scorn of the whole village. Likewise a king who decided to wage a war against an opponent who was much stronger, would be considered foolish if he did not come up with a plan that had a decent chance of success. Counting the cost and investing wisely are necessary conditions for securing a good return on the investment.

The great exchange If you prize something of great value and want to possess it, it's natural to ask what it will cost you before you make a commitment to invest in it. Jesus was utterly honest and spared no words to tell his disciples that it would cost them dearly to be his disciples - it would cost them their whole lives and all they possessed in exchange for the new life and treasure of God's kingdom. The Lord Jesus leaves no room for compromise or concession. We either give our lives over to him entirely or we keep them for ourselves. Paul the Apostle reminds us, "We are not our own. We were bought with a price" ( 1 Corinthians 6:19b,20). We were once slaves to sin and a kingdom of darkness and oppression, but we have now been purchased with the precious blood of Jesus Christ who has ransomed us from a life of darkness and destruction so we could enter his kingdom of light and truth. Christ has set us free to choose whom we will serve in this present life as well as in the age to come - God's kingdom of light, truth, and goodness or Satan's kingdom of darkness, lies, and deception. There are no neutral parties - we are either for God's kingdom or against it.

Who do you love first - above all else? The love of God compels us to choose who or what will be first in our lives. To place any relationship or any possession above God is a form of idolatry - worshiping the creature in place of the Creator and Ruler over all he has made. Jesus challenges his disciples to examine who and what they love first and foremost. We can be ruled and mastered by many different things - money, drugs, success, power or fame. Only one Master, the Lord Jesus Christ, can truly set us free from the power of sin, greed, and destruction. The choice is ours - who will we serve and follow - the path and destiny the Lord Jesus offers us or the path we choose in opposition to God's will and purpose for our lives. It boils down to choosing between life and death, truth and falsehood, goodness and evil. If we choose for the Lord Jesus and put our trust in him, he will show us the path that leads to true joy and happiness with our Father in heaven.

Lord Jesus, you are my Treasure, my Life, and my All. There is nothing in this life that can outweigh the joy of knowing, loving, and serving you all the days of my life. Take my life and all that I have and make it yours for your glory now and forever.

Sources:

Lectionary for Mass for use in the Dioceses of the United States, second typical edition, copyright (c) 2001, 1998, 1986, 1970 Confraternity of Christian Doctrine; Psalm refrain (c) 1968, 1981, 1997, international committee on english in the liturgy, Inc All rights reserved. Neither this work nor any part of it may be reproduced, distributed, performed or displayed in any medium, including electronic or digital, without permission in writing from the copyright owner

**Meditations may be freely reprinted and translated into other languages for non-profit use only. Please cite copyright and original source. Copyright 2021 Daily Scripture Readings and Meditation, dailyscripture.net author Don Schwager

[wri0thesley]

Nat😫😫😫 I'm just reading your naoya posts and I cant😫😫😫 why do I love this arrogant man😫 is it possible to write something of a connected fic to your arrangement story about how he feels jealous over a similarly docile reader (doesnt have to be connected if you dont want tho!!). like he hears about how the reader has been getting marriage proposals from other men since naoya hasnt given an affirmative to your family,,,, and now the reader is forced to consider other candidates (although she still cant atop thinking about our favourite princely asshole) and naoya cant handle this thought lol he deserves to know what angst and the pain of yearning tastes like😌 I hope this wasn't too confusing aaaa😭😭 I love your writing, and im glad youre in this jjk brain rot too🤧

patience - naoya x fem!reader (1.5k)

arrangement // patience // my jjk masterlist

warnings: naoya remains an asshole. submissive reader, arranged marriages, mentions of murder, talk of adultery. pining/angst. not sfw, minors dni!

naoya hates that he can’t stop thinking about you.

Naoya hates that he can’t stop thinking about you.

Oh, he’d meant it when he’d spat ‘pathetic’ and ‘useless’ and ‘worthless’ at you – your bloodline was unimpressive, your lack of cursed technique tragic, your clan elders absolutely idiotic for sending a nobody like you to tempt him. But . . . something about the look in your eyes, the meek little bow of your head, the way you’d listened to every one of his orders with a soft little gasp and a desire to follow them to the latter . . .

He hasn’t told your family that he’s not interested in you, but word gets around the jujutsu community when someone is looking for a spouse. After all, they’re determined to retain blood purity, to keep techniques in the bloodline – your family soon hear that Naoya is still considering all of his options. That other pretty young daughters from other bloodlines have been to see him.

(Naoya rejects them all, for frivolous reasons that he doesn’t want to admit are frivolous. He hadn’t liked the look in that one’s eyes. He didn’t want his children to inherit the colour of that one’s hair. That one had walked two steps behind him, not three--).

You haunt his thoughts. You and the bow of your head, the bite of your lip, the way you’d looked with tears brimming in your eyes. The suggestive curve of you beneath your kimono.

Ugh.

He hears, too, that your family have been exploring their other options. They’d seemed thrilled, at first, that Naoya hadn’t utterly swept you off the table – but six months have passed, and they want their daughter married and out of the house and fulfilling her duties.

He hears about your marriage proposals through that same grapevine. He hears that other men say you are pretty and quiet and obedient, that you will make a fine wife, that you will listen to commands and give soft smiles and raise children like you ought to--

And once, he smashes a glass from gripping it too hard as some nobody in the Kamo clan mentions that he’s going to ask your family for your hand in marriage.

You say no. He hears, too, that your elders are growing frustrated with your dismissals of proposals. They have left behind the thought of marrying you into the Zenin clan, but clearly you’re still clinging to the idea that Naoya might want you despite what he’d said.

He doesn’t, he tells himself, when he wraps his fist around his cock and pumps it and thinks about your look of surprise as his come splatters across your face.

He doesn’t, he tells himself, when he compares a young lady sent to entice him with you. When she looks him in the eye and he thinks that you would never do that, that you would keep your head bowed, that you’d be deferential as he needs you to be.

He doesn’t, he tells himself, as a servant cleans up the shards of glass that he shatters and he asks the Kamo clan member if perhaps he would like to spar, and he hits him just a little bit too hard so he ends up wheezing and doubled over on the training mats as Naoya stalks out of the room.

It’s not his style to pine. He has the pick of every eligible young lady in jujutsu society; he should not be hung up on such a worthless, pathetic little thing.

He hears of another proposal. This one, apparently, hasn’t been rejected straight-out – this one, you seem to be considering. Other members of the Zenin clan don’t understand why his jaw sets at the news.

“You didn’t want her, did you?” He asks. “You didn’t seem keen after the meeting.”

One of his other distant cousins, an upstart too big for his boots, grins.

“That was before she was hot property, though,” he leers at Naoya. “Our golden boy doesn’t like the idea of people coveting his trash--”

Naoya has struck him before he can think and stalked out of that room, too. Something about you has truly opened the can of worms that is Naoya’s violence, and he refuses to admit to himself that it’s because he wants you.

It’s not because you’re hot property – though, certainly, the way other men talk and laugh about you and the knowledge that you’re wanted serves to set a fire within him. It’s because he can’t stop thinking about you.

He tries courtesans. He chooses pretty, well-mannered ones who look a little like you – but their eyes when they look at him are glassy. They’re not the same as yours, brimming with life and want and confusion at the position you’ve found yourself in and the way your body responds to Naoya.

He doesn’t admit to his mistakes. He doesn’t think ‘I should have accepted the proposal, I should have joined the clans’ – instead, he thinks ‘I should have fucked them then and there. I should have made them scream my name until their reputation was ruined and everybody knew they came apart on my cock. It’s their fault that I can’t get them out of my brain.’

He walks with fists and teeth clenched and snaps at every servant who dare looks his way. Naoya has always been unpleasant, but he’s downright impossible with his spine in knots and his eyes narrowed.

He’s going to have to do it. He’s going to have to contact your family, ask for another audience, if only to get your fucking face out of his mind--

He’s not expecting to come across you before he’s even made the call, standing in one of the gardens of the Zenin estate. You’re wearing the same kimono you had first visited him in, and he hates that the sight of it makes a throb low in his belly as he remembers seeing it crumpled on his bedroom floor. He swallows as he stalks towards you and you turn, your pretty eyes widening – he sees the flash of memory, the flash of desire. He wonders if anybody would dare speak to him if he took you right here, in the garden--

An older man opens a door behind you.

Naoya recognises him only vaguely. The Zenin estate is swarming with various, less important Zenins; this one’s a great-uncle, perhaps? Or a cousin thrice removed? He’s someone unimportant in the grand scheme of things, save for the way that he walks up to you and wraps an arm around your waist.

“Ah,” the man with his hands on Naoya’s property says. “I see you’ve met my betrothed.”

His heart stops cold. He’s nobody. Unimportant. Nothing.

He’d called you the same thing; an ‘act of charity’. So why does the sight of an arm around you attached to a man too old and not powerful enough to be a threat make Naoya feel like he’s chewing rocks? Naoya manages to spit out a;

“Congratulations.”

“Yes,” the old man (great cousin? Naoya doesn’t make a habit to remember people he can’t use later on) says, pulling you closer, groping at your hip through the kimono as you keep a sedate, smile on your face without looking directly into Naoya’s eyes. “You’ll be seeing her around a lot. I hope she didn’t bother you.” A squeeze to your ass, this time, shameless. “Say hello to the future leader of the clan, sweetheart.”

(At least this man’s on Naoya’s side, he tries to console himself, but it doesn’t work.)

“H-hello, sir,” you say, and your voice is as tremulous as he remembers it. His cock stirs. He hates this.

“Sorry to bother you,” he inclines his head politely and tugs on your arm, pulling you away, leaving Naoya kissing his teeth and trying to not simply slit the man’s throat with the knife in his hakama and take you for his own.

What had the scum said? ‘You’ll be seeing her around a lot’. He supposes, then, that you’ll be sequestered in one of the other chambers in the Zenin estate--

A slow smile spreads across his face.

You wouldn’t say ‘no’ to your clan leader, would you? And . . . your future husband is old. Any Zenin is a Zenin, is it not? Even if a son is born with Naoya’s features, Naoya’s technique . . . nobody would say anything to him about it. And you’re in reach. Close to him.

He only needs to get you alone before the wedding to make sure he gets to take your maidenhead. He hates the thought of another man’s filthy hands on you, but accidents happen all of the time--

And then you’ll be a widow. You won’t be expected to marry for a while. And if you’ve already borne fruit and proved yourself – perhaps Naoya will even play the chivalrous leader and lower himself to take you for his own.

Yes. Just a little patience.

This is an arrangement he can get behind.

#naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya smut #naoya zenin smut #not sfw #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #writing #afab reader #fem pronouns #arranged marriage for ts #misogyny for ts #Anonymous

[royalnugget42]

Ok so now that I’m officially in the Resident Evil fandom here’s something

In the aftermath of the explosion in that little village, Ethan’s body is recovered. He is completely molded though, and has no memory except that he has a daughter named Rose, and he is sent to a secret facility to be contained and researched. He spends years being experimented on, poked and prodded and his regenerative abilities grow to astonishing strength.

He can regrow whole limbs now. He found this out the hard way, when the scientists started cutting off bits and pieces of him. Whole bones have been regrown from nothing but mold, though he has to eat a lot of rotten food to make up for it. His captors never tell him who he was or what he did, not even telling him his name, and referring to him only by Subject F-001, or Series F.

Their guess as to how he got like this without showing any of the homicidal tendencies of his predecessors is a mystery to them. Perhaps it is the memory of his daughter, perhaps it is his isolation from the rest of the molded, perhaps he just has something in his DNA. Whatever the case, when he is not being hurt he is resentful and angry, but never violent, nor does he seem interested in spreading the mold further.

It’s 16 years after they took him that funding starts to run out for the project. They’ve devoted all the time to research that they can, and now they must look to utilize him in other ways.

They begin with that question, of why he is different from the rest of the molded, retaining some semblance of his humanity. They can’t take his memory of Rose, though they’ve tried, and instead start to introduce foreign samples of mold into his diet, to see if he gains any of their traits.

Did they know what was left catalogued in the E-series mold? Did they realize that every infected soul has left a mark in that strain? Did they predict...no they couldn’t have. But they should have.

Ethan Winters goes to sleep and dreams of his wife. He doesn’t remember having a wife, how could he? But he supposes this must be her, she is lying in bed with him and calling him baby. This is Rose’s mother, and she is beautiful. But she doesn’t say his name. He doesn’t know hers.

When he wakes up he sees a little girl with black hair at the foot of his bed. She giggles at him, but runs when he calls out, vanishing through the concrete walls. When he mentions this apparition, the scientists dutifully catalogue the apparent hallucinations in their notes on him, but they do nothing to help him when he begs them for knowledge.

“Where is she?” he shouts into the stark, empty air. “Where is my wife, where is my daughter? Where’s Rose?” There is no answer. Just the buzzing of fluorescent lights and the quiet beeps of machinery.

The second dream is of a kitchen. Sunlight pours through the window, and the wooden floor is grimy, but only because it hasn’t been washed since breakfast yesterday.

There’s an old man at the table. His wife brings a meal to the table, and whatever it is smells delicious. Their son, it must be their son, sits off to the side, scrolling nonchalantly through his phone. Their daughter is gathering silverware.

They are the picture of an idyllic, loving family. They smile at him and ask him if he’d like anything more to eat, gently chiding him. He’s so thin, shouldn’t he have just one more helping? So he dutifully finishes off another, before declaring he is done. The old man turns to him.

“You’ve got to go back soon. When you do you’ve got to remember.” Remember what? He only remembers Rose, he doesn’t even know who these people are. They aren’t his family, he knows that, but in a warped and twisted way they also are. The edges of his vision are black with mold as they all beg him to remember, to break free, to be himself again. Zoe is the last to speak.

“I know you remember us. We live on in you, everyone does. We’re all counting on you, kid.” He feels like he’s too old to be called a kid by this girl, but maybe this girl is older than she looks. Maybe he’s younger than he thought.

The little girl is back. She doesn’t run this time, just stares at him. It seems she is waiting for a question, and it’s only as he realizes this that he knows what to ask. “Who are you?” he asks. “Who am I?”

She laughs at this, bright and sharp as glass. “I’m your daughter, of course! And you’re my daddy.”

Rose? Is this little girl Rose? But no, she isn’t. He’s not sure how he knows but he does. This girl isn’t his daughter, except she is, isn’t she? They’re connected. A family in reverse. He didn’t make her, not like he made Rose, but she didn’t make him either. He’s too new for that. How can he be younger than his daughter?

“Evelyn.”

She smiles at the recognition in his eyes. There’s fear there, but also familiarity. This is at least someone he knows. If she is his daughter, then he must be her father. That’s how it works isn’t it? All at once he feels like a part of his identity is locked into place. If he is a father then he has to protect his daughters, both of them. He must find Rose, and his wife.

She fades away before he passes out again. He dreams of pain, in his hand, in his legs. He dreams of terror and aching phantom memories. There’s a woman, tall and beautiful, with hands like long knives, her daughters all over him, many-legged. There’s a doll, there are so many dolls, and there’s a woman in mourning. A creature of water and filth confronts him, spewing out acid that burns in his mind. He talks to a man that moves metal without touching it. The man tells him to remember, tells him not to give up.

“You were always so stubborn. Don’t lose that. You’ll get those bastards yet.”

There’s a woman, and she has Rose. He kills her, and as she crumbles she whispers that she is finally with her daughter. She whispers to him that they are family, that they are both related and the same. He takes Rose from where she cries amongst the stones, and feels his hands fall apart.

Evelyn is a good daughter. When he is awake, he tells stories, about his dreams, about her mother. Evelyn tells him things too.

“You and mom tried to kill me, but I never knew why. I had a long time to think though, and I think I might’ve been a bad girl.”

For what it’s worth, he is sorry, but Evelyn shakes her head. “It was for the best, after all. You weren’t really my dad then.”

He doesn’t know what he is. The scientists call him series F, but he doesn’t know what that means. Evelyn used to be called series E. She says maybe his name starts with an F, but he knows that it doesn’t.

He’s different from Evelyn, but not so different that he is distant from her. Evelyn says that she tried to give him a gift, something she gave to lots of people. She gave it to his wife too, but she never gave anything to him.

“You have a gift too,” she says, “but it didn’t come from me. You made it all on your own. I came from this place, from these scientists, but you made yourself. It’s like you grew from nothing.”

Evelyn always wants to have more family, always wants to give more of her gift. She asks if Ethan is the same, and he realizes that he has never tried to give his gift to someone else. He doesn’t know if he wants to. He already has all the family he could ask for.

He dreams of his wife. Her name is Mia. He knows that now. His name is Ethan, and her name is Mia and they are family.

Scientists have been recording his conversations, and they’re growing concerned. Ethan spends so much time talking to his “daughter” Evelyn. They have realized by now that the E strain mold in his diet must have contained some trace of Evelyn’s consciousness, possibly along with others. They’ve stopped exposing him to it but it seems the damage is done. He asks for Mia and Rose at every waking moment that he does not spend talking to Evelyn.

They took a risk. They took far too many risks. Something happens one day, when a woman comes in to monitor his physical state. He was supposed to be sleeping, but the drugs wore off sooner than expected. He saw the woman through the door, and he begged her, to let him out, to bring him to his family. She ignored him. He pounded against the glass and she just rolled her eyes and took more notes.

Something snapped. No, not snapped. It twisted and warped and grew. It blossomed.

If this woman wasn’t going to let him see his family, then he would make more family. He would make her see his side, and once they were family she would have to help him. That’s what family does. His breathing slowed, and he closed his eyes. With every ounce of longing and loneliness he reached—

Agony.

#resident evil #re8 ethan winters #re8 #re8 coda #aftermath of the village #ethan winters #mia winters #rosemary winters #Evelyn resident evil #tw mold

[potteresque-ire]

Can you talk more about the usage of the word "wife" to talk about men in the BL context? I've noticed it in BJYX (particularly with GG), in the (English translations) of MDZS, and then it came up in your recent posts about Danmei-101 (which were super helpful btw) with articles connecting the "little fresh meat" type to fans calling an actor "wife." My initial reaction as a westerner is like "this is very problematic," but I think I'm missing a lot of language/cultural context. Any thoughts?

Hello! First of all, for those who’re interested, here’s a link to the referred posts. Under the cut is arguably the 4th post of the series. As usual, I apologise for the length!

(Topics: seme and uke; more about “leftover women”; roster of feminisation terms; Daji, Bao Si & the origin of BJYX; roster of beautiful, ancient Chinese men; Chairman Mao (not part of the roster) ...)

[TW: feminisation of men]

In the traditional BL characterisation, the M/M (double male) lead pairing is essentially a cis-het relationship in disguise, in which one of the M leads is viewed as the “wife” by the creator and audience. This lead often possesses some of the features of the traditional, stereotypical female, but retaining his male appearance. 

In BL terms, the “wife” is the “uke”. “Seme” and “uke” are the respective roles taken by the two male leads, and designated by the creator of the material. Literally, “seme” (攻め) means the dominant, the attacking / aggressive partner in the relationship and “uke” (受け), the passive / recipient (of actions) partner who tends to follow the seme’s lead. The terms themselves do not have any sexual / gender context.  However, as male and female are viewed as aggressive and passive by their traditional social roles, and the attacker and recipient by their traditional sexual roles respectively, BL fandoms have long assigned uke, the passive, sexual “bottom”, as the “woman”, the “wife”. 

Danmei has kept this “semi” and uke” tradition from BL, taking the kanji of the Japanese terms for designation ~ 攻 (”attack” is therefore the “husband”, and 受 (”receive”), the “wife”. The designations are often specified in the introduction / summary of Danmei works as warning / enticement. For MDZS, for example, MXTX wrote:

高貴冷豔悶騷 攻 × 邪魅狂狷風騷 受

高貴冷豔悶騷 攻 = noble, coolly beautiful and boring seme (referring to LWJ)  邪魅狂狷風騷 受 = devilishly charming, wild, and flirty uke (referring to WWX) 

The traditional, stereotypical female traits given to the “uke”, the “wife” in Danmei and their associated fanworks range from their personality to behaviour to even biological functions. Those who have read the sex scenes in MDZS may be aware of their lack of mention of lube, while WWX was written as getting (very) wet from fluids from his colon (腸道) ~ implying that his colon, much like a vagina, was supplying the necessarily lubrication for sex. This is obviously biologically inaccurate; however, Danmei is exempt from having to be realistic by its original Tanbi definition. The genre’s primary audience is cishet females, and sex scenes such as this one aren’t aiming for realism. Rather, the primary goal of these sex scenes is to generate fantasy, and the purpose of the biologically female functions in one of the leads (WWX) is to ease the readers into imagining themselves as the one engaging in the sex.

Indeed, these practices of assigning as males and female the M/M sexual top and bottom, of emphasising of who is the top and who is the bottom, have been falling out of favour in Western slash fandoms ~ I joined fandom about 15 years ago, and top and bottom designations in slash pairings (and fights about them) were much more common than it is now.  The generally more open, more progressive environments in which Western fandomers are immersed in probably have something to do with it: they transfer their RL knowledge, their views on biology, on different social into their fandom works and discourses. 

I’d venture to say this: in the English-speaking fandoms, fandom values and mainstream values are converging. “Cancel culture” reflects an attempt to enforce RL values in the fictional worlds in fandom. Fandom culture is slowly, but surely, leaving its subculture status and becoming part of mainstream culture. 

I’d hesitate to call c-Danmei fandoms backward compared to Western slash for this reason. There’s little hope for Danmei to converge with China’s mainstream culture in the short term ~ the necessity of replacing Danmei with Dangai in visual media already reflects that. Danmei is and will likely remain subculture in the foreseeable future, and subcultures, at heart, are protests against the mainstream. Unless China and the West define “mainstream” very similarly (and they don’t), it is difficult to compare the “progressiveness”—and its dark side, the “problematic-ness”—of the protests, which are shaped by what they’re protesting against. The “shaper” in this scenario, the mainstream values and culture, are also far more forceful under China’s authoritarian government than they are in the free(-er) world. 

Danmei, therefore, necessarily takes on a different form in China than BL or slash outside China. As a creative pursuit, it serves to fulfil psychological needs that are reflective of its surrounding culture and sociopolitical environment. The genre’s “problematic” / out of place aspects in the eyes of Western fandoms are therefore, like all other aspects of the genre, tailor-made by its millions of fans to be comforting / cathartic for the unique culture and sociopolitical background it and they find themselves in. 

I briefly detoured to talk about the Chinese government’s campaign to pressure young, educated Chinese women into matrimony and motherhood in the post for this reason, as it is an example of how, despite Western fandoms’ progressiveness, they may be inadequate, distant for c-Danmei fans. Again, this article is a short and a ... morbidly-entertaining read on what has been said about China’s “leftover women” (剩女) — women who are unmarried and over 27-years-old). I talked about it, because “Women should enter marriage and parenthood in their late 20s” may no longer a mainstream value in many Western societies, but where it still is, it exerts a strong influence on how women view romance, and by extension, how they interact with romantic fiction, including Danmei.

In China, this influence is made even stronger by the fact that Chinese tradition  places a strong emphasis on education and holds a conservative attitude towards romance and sex. Dating while studying therefore remains discouraged in many Chinese families. University-educated Chinese women therefore have an extremely short time frame — between graduation (~23 years old) and their 27th birthday — to find “the right one” and get married, before they are labelled as “leftovers” and deemed undesirable. (Saving) face being an important aspect in Chinese culture introduces yet another layer of pressure: traditionally, women who don’t get married by the age agreed by social norms have been viewed as failures of upbringing, in that the unmarried women’s parents not having taught/trained their daughters well. Filial, unmarried women therefore try to get married “on time” just to avoid bringing shame to their family.

The outcome is this: despite the strong women characters we may see in Chinese visual media, many young Chinese women nowadays do not expect themselves to be able to marry for love. Below, I offer a “book jacket summary” of a popular internet novel in China, which shows how the associated despair also affects cis-het fictional romance. Book reviews praise this novel for being “boring”: the man and woman leads are both common working class people, the “you-and-I”’s; the mundaneness of them trying build their careers and their love life is lit by one shining light: he loves her and she loves him. 

Written in her POV, this summary reflects, perhaps, the disquiet felt by many contemporary Chinese women university graduates:

曾經以為，自己這輩子都等不到了—— 世界這麼大，我又走得這麼慢，要是遇不到良人要怎麼辦？早過了「全球三十幾億男人，中國七億男人，天涯何處無芳草」的猖狂歲月，越來越清楚，循規蹈矩的生活中，我們能熟悉進而深交的異性實在太有限了，有限到我都做好了「接受他人的牽線，找個適合的男人慢慢煨熟，再平淡無奇地進入婚姻」的準備，卻在生命意外的拐彎處迎來自己的另一半。

I once thought, my wait will never come to fruition for the rest of my life — the world is so big, I’m so slow in treading it, what if I’ll never meet the one? I’ve long passed the wild days of thinking “3 billion men exist on Earth, 0.7 of which are Chinese. There is plenty more fish in the sea.” I’m seeing, with increasing clarity, that in our disciplined lives, the number of opposite-sex we can get to know, and get to know well, is so limited. It’s so limited that I’m prepared to accept someone’s matchmaking, find a suitable man and slowly, slowly, warm up to him, and then, to enter marriage with without excitement, without wonder. But then, an accidental turn in my life welcomes in my other half.

— Oath of Love (餘生，請多指教) (Yes, this is the novel Gg’d upcoming drama is based on.) 

Heteronormativity is, of course, very real in China. However, that hasn’t exempted Chinese women, even its large cis-het population, from having their freedom to pursue their true love taken away from them. Even for cis-het relationships, being able to marry for love has become a fantasy —a fantasy scorned by the state. Remember this quote from Article O3 in the original post? 

耽改故事大多远离现实，有些年轻受众却将其与生活混为一谈，产生不以结婚和繁衍为目的才是真爱之类的偏颇认知。

Most Dangai stories are far removed from reality; some young audience nonetheless mix them up with real life, develop biased understanding such as “only love that doesn’t treat matrimony and reproduction as destinations is true love”. 

I didn’t focus on it in the previous posts, in an effort to keep the discussion on topic. But why did the op-ed piece pick this as an example of fantasy-that-shouldn’t-be-mixed-up-with-real-life, in the middle of a discussion about perceived femininity of men that actually has little to do with matrimony and reproduction? 

Because the whole point behind the state’s “leftover women” campaign is precisely to get women to treat matrimony and reproduction as destinations, not beautiful sceneries that happen along the way. And they’re the state’s destination as more children = higher birth rate that leads to higher future productivity. The article is therefore calling out Danmei for challenging this “mainstream value”.

Therefore, while the statement True love doesn’t treat matrimony and reproduction as destinations may be trite for many of us while it may be a point few, if any, English-speaking fandoms may pay attention to, to the mainstream culture Danmei lives in, to the mainstream values dictated by the state, it is borderline subversive.

As much as Danmei may appear “tame” for its emphasis on beauty and romance, for it to have stood for so long, so firmly against China’s (very) forceful mainstream culture, the genre is also fundamentally rebellious.  Remember: Danmei has little hope of converging with China’s mainstream unless it “sells its soul” and removes its homoerotic elements. 

With rebelliousness, too, comes a bit of tongue-in-cheek.

And so, when c-Danmei fans, most of whom being cishet women who interact with the genre by its traditional BL definition, call one of the leads 老婆 (wife), it can and often take on a different flavour. As said before, it can be less about feminizing the lead than about identifying with the lead. The nickname 老婆 (wife) can be less about being disrespectful and more about humorously expressing an aspiration—the aspiration to have a husband who truly loves them, who they do want to get married and have babies with but out of freedom and not obligation.

Admittedly, I had been confused, and bothered by these “can-be”s myself. Just because there are alternate reasons for the feminisation to happen doesn’t mean the feminisation itself is excusable. But why the feminisation of M/M leads doesn’t sound as awful to me in Chinese as in English? How can calling a self-identified man 老婆 (wife) get away with not sounding being predominantly disrespectful to my ears, when I would’ve frowned at the same thing said in my vicinity in English?

I had an old hypothesis: when I was little, it was common to hear people calling acquaintances in Chinese by their unflattering traits:  “Deaf-Eared Chan” (Mr Chan, who’s deaf), “Fat Old Woman Lan” (Ah-Lan, who’s an overweight woman) etc—and the acquaintances were perfectly at ease with such identifications, even introducing themselves to strangers that way. Comparatively speaking then, 老婆 (wife) is harmless, even endearing. 

老婆, which literally means “old old-lady” (implying wife = the woman one gets old with), first became popularised as a colloquial, casual way of calling “wife” in Hong Kong and its Cantonese dialect, despite the term itself being about 1,500 years old. As older generations of Chinese were usually very shy about talking about their love lives, those who couldn’t help themselves and regularly spoke of their 老婆 tended to be those who loved their wives in my memory. 老婆, as a term, probably became endearing to me that way. 

Maybe this is why the feminisation of M/M leads didn’t sound so bad to me?

This hypothesis was inadequate, however. This custom of identifying people by their (unflattering) traits has been diminishing in Hong Kong and China, for similar reasons it has been considered inappropriate in the West.

Also, 老婆 (wife) is not the only term used for / associated with feminisation. I’ve tried to limit the discussion to Danmei, the fictional genre; now, I’ll jump to its associated RPS genre, and specifically, the YiZhan fandoms. The purpose of this jump: with real people involved, feminisation’s effect is potentially more harmful, more acute. Easier to feel. 

YiZhan fans predominantly entered the fandoms through The Untamed, and they’ve also transferred Danmei’s  “seme”/“uke” customs into YiZhan. There are, therefore, three c-YiZhan fandoms:

博君一肖 (BJYX): seme Dd, uke Gg 戰山為王 (ZSWW): seme Gg, uke Dd 連瑣反應 (LSFY): riba Gg and Dd. Riba = “reversible”, and unlike “seme” and “uke”, is a frequently-used term in the Japanese gay community. 

BJYX is by far the largest of the three, likely due to Gg having played WWX, the “uke” in MDZS / TU. I’ll therefore focus on this fandom, ie. Gg is the “uke”, the “wife”.

For Gg alone, I’ve seen him being also referred to by YiZhan fans as (and this is far from a complete list):

* 姐姐 (sister) * 嫂子 (wife of elder brother; Dd being the elder brother implied) * 妃妃 (based on the very first YiZhan CP name, 太妃糖 Toffee Candy, a portmanteau of sorts from Dd being the 太子 “prince” of his management company and Gg being the prince’s wife, 太子妃. 糖 = “candy”. 太妃 sounds like toffee in English and has been used as the latter’s Chinese translation.) * 美人 (beauty, as in 肖美人 “Beauty Xiao”) * Daji 妲己 (as in 肖妲己, “Daji Xiao”). 

The last one needs historical context, which will also become important for explaining the new hypothesis I have.

Daji was a consort who lived three thousand years ago, whose beauty was blamed for the fall of the Shang dynasty. Gg (and men sharing similar traits, who are exceptionally rare) has been compared to Daji 妲己 for his alternatively innocent, alternatively seductive beauty ~ the kind of beauty that, in Chinese historical texts and folk lores, lead to the fall of kingdoms when possessed by the king’s beloved woman. This kind of “I-get-to-ruin-her-virginity”, “she’s a slut in MY bedroom” beauty is, of course, a stereotypical fantasy for many (cis-het) men, which included the authors of these historical texts and folklores. However, it also contained some truth: the purity / innocence, the image of a virgin, was required for an ancient woman to be chosen as a consort; the seduction, meanwhile, helped her to become the top consort, and monopolise the attention of kings and emperors who often had hundreds of wives ~ wives who often put each other in danger to eliminate competition. 

Nowadays, women of tremendous beauty are still referred to by the Chinese idiom 傾國傾城, literally, ”falling countries, falling cities”. The beauty is also implied to be natural, expressed in a can’t-help-itself way, perhaps reflecting the fact that the ancient beauties on which this idiom has been used couldn’t possibly have plastic surgeries, and most of them didn’t meet a good end ~ that they had to pay a price for their beauty, and often, with their lowly status as women, as consorts, they didn’t get to choose whether they wanted to pay this price or not. This adjective is considered to be very flattering. Gg’s famous smile from the Thailand Fanmeet has been described, praised as 傾城一笑: “a smile that topples a city”.

I’m explaining Daji and 傾國傾城 because the Chinese idiom 博君一笑 “doing anything to get a smile from you”, from which the ship’s name BJYX 博君一肖  was derived (笑 and 肖 are both pronounced “xiao”), is connected to yet another of such dynasty-falling beauty, Bao Si 褒姒. Like Daji before her, Bao Si was blamed for the end of the Zhou Dynasty in 771 BC. 

The legend went like this: Bao Si was melancholic, and to get her to smile, her king lit warning beacons and got his nobles to rush in from the nearby vassal states with their armies to come and rescue him, despite not being in actual danger. The nobles, in their haste, looked so frantic and dishevelled that Bao Si found it funny and smiled. Longing to see more of the smile of his favourite woman, the king would fool his nobles again and again, until his nobles no longer heeded the warning beacons when an actual rebellion came. 

What the king did has been described as 博紅顏一笑, with 紅顏 (”red/flushed face”) meaning a beautiful woman, referring to Bao Si. Replace 紅顏 with the respectful “you”, 君, we get 博君一笑. If one searches the origin of the phrase 博 [fill_in_the_blank]一笑 online, Bao Si’s story shows up.

The “anything” in ”doing anything to get a smile from you” in 博君一笑, therefore, is not any favour, but something as momentous as giving away one’s own kingdom. c-turtles have remarked, to their amusement and admittedly mine, that “king”, in Chinese, is written as 王, which is Dd’s surname, and very occasionally, they jokingly compare him to the hopeless kings who’d give away everything for their love. Much like 傾國傾城 has become a flattering idiom despite the negative reputations of Daji and Bao Si for their “men-ruining ways”, 博君一笑 has become a flattering phrase, emphasising on the devotion and love rather than the ... stupidity behind the smile-inducing acts. 

(Bao Si’s story, BTW, was a lie made up by historians who also lived later but also thousands of years ago, to absolve the uselessness of the king. Warning beacons didn’t exist at her time.)  

Gg is arguably feminized even in his CP’s name. Gg’s feminisation is everywhere. 

And here comes my confession time ~ I’ve been amused by most of the feminisation terms above. 肖妲己 (”Daji Xiao”) captures my imagination, and I remain quite partial to the CP name BJYX. Somehow, there’s something ... somewhat forgivable when the feminisation is based on Gg’s beauty, especially in the context of the historical Danmei / Dangai setting of MDZS/TU ~ something that, while doesn’t cancel, dampens the “problematic-ness” of the gender mis-identification.

What, exactly, is this something?

Here’s my new hypothesis, and hopefully I’ll manage to explain it well ~

The hypothesis is this: the unisex beauty standard for historical Chinese men and women, which is also breathtakingly similar to the modern beauty standard for Chinese women, makes feminisation in the context of Danmei (especially historical Danmei) flattering, and easier to accept.

What defined beauty in historical Chinese men? If I am to create a classically beautiful Chinese man for my new historical Danmei, how would I describe him based on what I’ve read, my cultural knowledge?

Here’s a list:

* Skin fair and smooth as white jade * Thin, even frail; narrow/slanted shoulders; tall * Dark irises and bright, starry eyes * Not too dense, neat eyebrows that are shaped like swords ~ pointed slightly upwards from the center towards the sides of the face * Depending on the dynasty, nice makeup.

Imagine these traits. How “macho” are they? How much do they fit the ideal Chinese masculine beauty advertised by Chinese government, which looks like below?

Propaganda poster, 1969. The caption says “Defeat Imperialist US! Defeat Social Imperialism!” The book’s name is “Quotations from Mao Zedong”. (Source)

Where did that list of traits I’ve written com from? Fair like jade, frail ... why are they so far from the ... “macho”ness of the men in the poster? 

What has Chinese history said about its beautiful men? 

Wei Jie (衛玠 286-312 BCE), one of the four most beautiful ancient Chinese men (古代四大美男) recorded in Chinese history famously passed away when fans of his beauty gathered and formed a wall around him, blocking his way. History recorded Wei as being frail with chronic illness, and was only 27 years old when he died. Arguably the first historical account of “crazy fans killing their idol”, this incident left the idiom 看殺衛玠 ~ “Wei Jie being watched to death.” ~ a not very “macho” way to die at all.

潘安 (Pan An; 247-300 BCE), another one of the four most beautiful ancient Chinese men, also had hoards of fangirls, who threw fruits and flowers at him whenever he ventured outside. The Chinese idiom 擲果盈車 “thrown fruit filling a cart” was based on Pan and ... his fandom, and denotes such scenarios of men being so beautiful that women openly displayed their affections for them. 

Meanwhile, when Pan went out with his equally beautiful male friend, 夏侯湛 Xiahou Zhan, folks around them called them 連璧 ~ two connected pieces of perfect jade. Chinese Jade is white, smooth, faintly glowing in light, so delicate that it gives the impression of being somewhat transparent.

Aren’t Wei Jie and Pan An reminiscent of modern day Chinese idols, the “effeminate” “Little Fresh Meat”s (小鲜肉) so panned by Article O3? Their stories, BTW, also elucidated the historical reference in LWJ’s description of being jade-like in MDZS, and in WWX and LWJ being thrown pippas along the Gusu river bank. 

Danmei, therefore, didn’t create a trend of androgynous beauty in men as much as it has borrowed the ancient, traditional definition of masculine Chinese beauty ~ the beauty that was more feminine than masculine by modern standards.  

[Perhaps, CPs should be renamed 連璧 (”two connected pieces of perfect jade”) as a reminder of the aesthetics’ historical roots.]

Someone may exclaim now: But. But!! Yet another one of the four most beautiful ancient Chinese men, 高長恭 (Gao Changgong, 541-573 BCE), far better known by his title, 蘭陵王 (”the Prince of Lanling”), was a famous general. He had to be “macho”, right?

... As it turns out, not at all. Historical texts have described Gao as “貌柔心壮，音容兼美” (”soft in looks and strong at heart, beautiful face and voice”), “白美類婦人” (”fair and beautiful as a woman”), “貌若婦人” (”face like a woman”). Legends have it that The Prince of Lanling’s beauty was so soft, so lacking in authority that he had to wear a savage mask to get his soldiers to listen to his command (and win) on the battlefield (《樂府雜錄》: 以其顏貌無威，每入陣即著面具，後乃百戰百勝).

This should be emphasised: Gao’s explicitly feminine descriptions were recorded in historical texts as arguments *for* his beauty. Authors of these texts, therefore, didn’t view the feminisation as insult. In fact, they used the feminisation to drive the point home, to convince their readers that men like the Prince of Lanling were truly, absolutely good looking.

Being beautiful like a women was therefore high praise for men in, at least, significant periods in Chinese history ~ periods long and important enough for these records to survive until today. Beauty, and so it goes, had once been largely free of distinctions between the masculine and feminine.

One more example of an image of an ancient Chinese male beauty being similar to its female counterpart, because the history nerd in me finds this fun. 

何晏 (He Yan, ?-249 BCE) lived in the Wei Jin era (between 2nd to 4th century), during which makeup was really en vogue. Known for his beauty, he was also famous for his love of grooming himself. The emperor, convinced that He Yan’s very fair skin was from the powder he was wearing, gave He Yan some very hot foods to eat in the middle of the summer. He Yan began to sweat, had to wipe himself with his sleeves and in the process, revealed to the emperor that his fair beauty was 100% natural ~ his skin glowed even more with the cosmetics removed (《世說新語·容止第十四》: 何平叔美姿儀，面至白。魏明帝疑其傅粉，正夏月，與熱湯餅。既啖，大汗出，以朱衣自拭，色轉皎然). His kick-cosmetics’-ass fairness won him the nickname 傅粉何郎 (”powder-wearing Mr He”).

Not only would He Yan very likely be mistaken as a woman if this scene is transferred to a modern setting, but this scene can very well fit inside a Danmei story of the 21st century and is very, very likely to get axed by the Chinese censorship board for its visualisation. 

[Important observation from this anecdote: the emperor was totally into this trend too.]

The adjectives and phrases used above to describe these beautiful ancient Chinese men ~ 貌柔, 音容兼美, 白美, 美姿儀, 皎然 ~ have all become pretty much reserved for describing beauty in women nowadays. Beauty standards in ancient China were, as mentioned before, had gone through significantly long periods in which they were largely genderless. The character for beauty 美 (also in Danmei, 耽美) used to have little to no gender association. Free of gender associations as well were the names of many flowers. The characters for orchid (蘭) and lotus (蓮), for example, were commonly found in men’s names as late as the Republican era (early 20th century), but are now almost exclusively found in women’s names. Both orchid and lotus have historically been used to indicate 君子 (junzi, roughly, “gentlemen”), which have always been men. MDZS also has an example of a man named after a flower: Jin Ling’s courtesy name, given to him by WWX,  was 如蘭 (”like an orchid”). 

A related question may be this: why does ancient China associate beauty with fairness, with softness, with frailty? Likely, because Confucianist philosophy and customs put a heavy emphasis on scholarship ~ and scholars have mostly consisted of soft-spoken, not muscular, not working-under-the-sun type of men. More importantly, Confucianist scholars also occupied powerful government positions. Being, and looking like a Confucianist scholar was therefore associated with status. Indeed, it’s very difficult to look like jade when one was a farmer or a soldier, for example, who constantly had to toil under the sun, whose skin was constantly being dried and roughened by the elements. Having what are viewed as “macho” beauty traits as in the poster above ~ tanned skin, bulging muscles, bony structures (which also take away the jade’s smoothness) ~ were associated with hard labour, poverty and famine.

Along that line, 手無縛雞之力 (“hands without the strength to restrain a chicken”) has long been a phrase used to describe ancient scholars and students, and without scorn or derision. Love stories of old, which often centred around scholars were, accordingly, largely devoid of the plot lines of husbands physically protecting the wives, performing the equivalent of climbing up castle walls and fighting dragons etc. Instead, the faithful husbands wrote poems, combed their wife’s hair, traced their wife’s eyebrows with cosmetics (畫眉)...all activities that didn’t require much physical strength, and many of which are considered “feminine” nowadays.

Were there periods in Chinese history in which more ... sporty men and women were appreciated? Yes. the Tang dynasty, for example, and the Yuan and Qing dynasties. The Tang dynasty, as a very powerful, very open era in Chinese history, was known for its relations to the West (via the Silk Road). The Yuan and Qing dynasties, meanwhile, were established by Mongolians and Manchus respectively, who, as non-Han people, had not been under the influence of Confucian culture and grew up on horsebacks, rather than in schools.

The idea that beautiful Chinese men should have “macho” attributes was, therefore, largely a consequence of non-Han-Chinese influence, especially after early 20th century. That was when the characters for beauty (美), orchid (蘭), lotus (蓮) etc began their ... feminisation. The Chinese Communist Party (CCP), which started its reign of the country starting 1949, also has foreign roots, being a derivative of the Soviets, and its portrayal of ideal men has been based on the party’s ideology, painting them as members of the People’s Liberation Army (Chinese army) and its two major proletariat classes, farmers and industrial workers ~ all occupations that are “macho” in their aesthetics, but held at very poor esteem in ancient Chinese societies. All occupations that, to this day, may be hailed as noble by Chinese women, but not really deemed attractive by them.

Beauty, being an instinct, is perhaps much more resistant to propaganda.

If anything, the three terms Article O3 used to describe “effeminate” men ~ 奶油小生 “cream young men” (popularised in 1980s) , 花美男 “flowery beautiful men” (early 2000s), 小鲜肉 “little fresh meat” (coined in 2014 and still popular now) ~ only informs me how incredibly consistent the modern Chinese women’s view of ideal male beauty has been. It’s the same beauty the Chinese Communist Party has called feminine. It’s the same beauty found in Danmei. It’s the same beauty that, when witnessed in men in ancient China, was so revered that historians recorded it for their descendants to remember. It doesn’t mean there aren’t any women who appreciate the "macho” type ~ it’s just that, the appreciation for the non-macho type has never really gone out of fashion, never really changed. The only thing that is really changing is the name of the type, the name’s positive or negative connotations.

(Personally, I’m far more uncomfortable with the name “Little fresh meat” (小鲜肉) than 老婆 (wife). I find it much more insulting.)

Anyway, what I’d like to say is this: feminisation in Danmei ~ a genre that, by definition, is hyper-focused on aesthetics ~ may not be as "problematic” in Chinese as it is in English, because the Chinese tradition didn’t make that much of a differentiation between masculine and feminine beauty. Once again, this isn’t to say such mis-gendering isn’t disrespectful; it’s just that, perhaps, it is less disrespectful because Chinese still retains a cultural memory in which equating a beautiful man to a beautiful woman was the utmost flattery. 

I must put a disclaimer here: I cannot vouch for this being true for the general Chinese population. This is something that is buried deep enough inside me that it took a lot of thought for me to tease out, to articulate. More importantly, while I grow up in a Chinese-speaking environment, I’ve never lived inside China. My history knowledge, while isn’t shabby, hasn’t been filtered through the state education system.

I’d also like to point out as well, along this line of thought, that in *certain* (definitely not all) aspects, Chinese society isn’t as sexist as the West. While historically, China has periods of extreme sexism against women, with the final dynasties of Ming and Qing being examples, I must (reluctantly) acknowledge Chairman Mao for significantly lifting the status of women during his rule. Here’s a famous quote of his from 1955:

婦女能頂半邊天 Women can lift half the skies

The first marriage code, passed in 1950, outlawed forced marriages, polygamy, and ensured equal rights between husband and wife.  For the first time in centuries, women were encouraged to go outside of their homes and work. Men resisted at first, wanting to keep their wives at home; women who did work were judged poorly for their performance and given less than 50% of men’s wage, which further fuelled the men’s resistance. Mao said the above quote after a commune in Guizhou introduced the “same-work-same-wage” system to increase its productivity, and he asked for the same system to to be replicated across the country. (Source)

When Chairman Mao wanted something, it happened. Today, Chinese women’s contribution to the country’s GDP remains among the highest in the world.  They make up more than half of the country’s top-scoring students. They’re the dominant gender in universities, in the ranks of local employees of international corporations in the Shanghai and Beijing central business districts—among the most sought after jobs in the country. While the inequality between men and women in the workplace is no where near wiped out — stories about women having to sleep with higher-ups to climb the career ladder, or even get their PhDs are not unheard of, and the central rulership of the Chinese Communist Party has been famously short of women — the leap in women’s rights has been significant over the past century, perhaps because of how little rights there had been before ~ at the start of the 20th century, most Chinese women from relatively well-to-do families still practised foot-binding, in which their feet were literally crushed during childhood in the name of beauty, of status symbol. They couldn’t even walk properly.

Perhaps, the contemporary Chinese women’s economic contribution makes the sexism they encounter in their lives, from the lack of reproductive rights to the “leftover women” label, even harder to swallow. It makes their fantasies fly to even higher, more defiant heights. The popularity of Dangai right now is pretty much driven by women, as acknowledged by Article O3. Young women, especially, female fans who people have dismissed as “immature”, “crazy”, are responsible for the threat the Chinese government is feeling now by the genre.

This is no small feat. While the Chinese government complains about the “effeminate” men from Danmei / Dangai, its propaganda has been heavily reliant on stars who have risen to popularity to these genres. The film Dd is currently shooting, Chinese Peacekeeping Force (維和部隊), also stars Huang Jingyu (黄景瑜), and Zhang Zhehan (張哲瀚) ~ the three actors having shot to fame from The Untamed (Dangai), Addicted (Danmei), and Word of Honour (Dangai) respectively.  Zhang, in particular, played the “uke” role in Word of Honour and has also been called 老婆 (wife) by his fans. The quote in Article O3, “Ten years as a tough man known by none; one day as a beauty known by all” was also implicitly referring to him.

Perhaps, the government will eventually realise that millennia-old standards of beauty are difficult to bend, and by extension, what is considered appropriate gender expression of Chinese men and women. 

In the metas I’ve posted, therefore, I’ve hesitated in using terms such as homophobia, sexism, and ageism etc, opting instead to make long-winded explanations that essentially amount to these terms (thank you everyone who’s reading for your patience!). Because while the consequence is similar—certain fraction of the populations are subjected to systemic discrimination, abuse, given less rights, treated as inferior etc—these words, in English, also come with their own context, their own assumptions that may not apply to the situation. It reminds me of what Leo Tolstoy wrote in Anna Karenina,

“All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.”

Discrimination in each country, each culture is humiliating, unhappy in its own way. Both sexism and homophobia are rampant in China, but as their roots are different from those of the West, the ways they manifest are different, and so must the paths to their dissolution. I’ve also hesitated on calling out individual behaviours or confronting individuals for this reason. i-Danmei fandoms are where i-fans and c-fans meet, where English-speaking doesn’t guarantee a non-Chinese sociopolitical background (there may be students from China, for example; I’m also ... not entirely Western), and I find it difficult to articulate appropriate, convincing arguments without knowing individual backgrounds.

Frankly, I’m not sure if I’ve done the right thing. Because I do hope feminisation will soon fade into extinction, especially in i-Danmei fandoms that, if they continue to prosper on international platforms, may eventually split from c-Danmei fandoms along the cultural (not language) line due to the vast differences in environmental constraints. My hope is especially true when real people are involved, and c-fandoms, I’d like to note, are not unaware of the issues surrounding feminisation ~ it has already been explicitly forbidden in BJYX’s supertopic on Weibo. 

At the same time, I’ve spent so many words above to try to explain why beauty can *sometimes* lurk behind such feminisations. Please allow me to end this post with one example of feminisation that I deeply dislike—and I’ve seen it used by fans on Gg as well—is 綠茶 (”green tea”), from 綠茶婊 (”green tea whore”) that means women who look pure / innocent but are, deep down, promiscuous / lustful. In some ways, its meaning isn’t so different from Daji 妲己, the consort blamed for the fall of the Shang dynasty. However, to me at least, the flattery in the feminisation is gone, perhaps because of the character “whore” (婊), because the term originated in 2013 from a notorious sex party rather than from a legendary beauty so maligned that The Investiture of the Gods (封神演義), the seminal Chinese fiction written ~2,600 years after Daji’s death, re-imagined her as a malevolent fox spirit (狐狸精) that many still remembers her as today.

Ah, to be caught between two cultures. :)

#tell-me-everything #pie metas #yizhan #bjyx

[confused-as-all-hell]

Rowan Whitethorn

“You collect scars because you want proof that you are paying for whatever sins you've committed. And I know this because I've been doing the same damn thing for two hundred years. Tell me, do you think you will go to some blessed Afterworld, or do you expect a burning hell? You're hoping for hell--because how could you face them in the Afterworld? Better to suffer, to be damned for eternity.”

Rowan Whitethorn, arrogant and powerful and fierce. The Fae Warrior, Prince of Doranelle, King of Terrasen. A male who had held death in his arms, who loved a queen without her crown, who had a laugh like midsummer thunder.

He was by no account perfect. His love was scarce, his warmth thinner still. His tongue was edged in steel. His temper is rivaled by none.

Rowan has his faults, but the primary source of his hatred is his appearance. People pick on him for being white and for being muscular, as if being either of the two is awful. I understand how several white characters might spark frustration, but (I say this as a woman of colour, myself) that is a fucking bullshit reason to hate him. He did not rummage through a box and draw out the label reading “white.” This is how Sarah J Maas chose to write him. 

Rowan might have a more muscular build than average, but that’s literally the entire point. We are shown he trains and works out strenuously, as well as eats certain food to keep himself fit. He is careful with himself, and genuinely puts in the necessary work to retain his muscle. He is a trained warrior that has lived for hundreds of years, of course he’s going to have accumulated strength. Do not attempt to dissuade me on this topic, as I know from personal experience the effects of working out.

Yes, he is out of the ordinary in terms of his looks. Silver hair, green eyes, skin made tan by the sun. But he is always described as handsome from Aelin’s point of view, and have none of you ever been in love? Your boyfriend or girlfriend or significant other is always staggeringly attractive through your lenses. His face is never written as angelic or perfect, however, and Rowan is thought of as extraordinary but not impossible. 

Allow male characters to be stunning without detesting them for it, as you would females. I have too often seen people (the same people who praise Nesta or Gwyn for being beautiful) write long-ass posts on why Rowan just isn’t realistic. Maybe it isn’t. But if you opened a fantasy novel expecting realism, I will find myself amused. Rowan is fae, for fuck’s sake. Sarah J Maas wrote them to be attractive.

Another point of speculation is Rowan’s initial dislike of Aelin. He is thought of as abusive, which I will blatantly disagree with.

When Aelin first arrived in Mistward, she and Rowan were not friends. They were not associates. They were two grief-stricken, trauma-ridden characters with awful coping methods and no hope to be seen. Over time, they began to work together, and that begrudging respect blossomed into friendship.

Did they detest one another? Yeah, they did.

And then they realized the full extent of their comments, how wrong they were to be so awful, and they made their peace with it. The point of that dislike was to give them both character arcs, to show they grew from the furious, miserable, bleeding shells of themselves.

They grew from that pain. 

Hatred became acceptance, acceptance became respect, respect became friendship, friendship became love. They did not love each other instantly, nor should they have. It was slow, and they learned from the mistakes they made, they apologized for them.

Their romantic relationship (nor platonic) was never toxic. It was always mutual communication and understanding and “I will be here for you, but I will not dive in to fix all your problems.” It was concern and support and admiration. It was “I will sit with you, and I will light my lamps to banish the dark.”

Does Rowan worry after Aelin often? Yes, of course.

But have none of you ever been in love? During times of strife, of terror, you’re always calling in to make sure they’re okay, they’ve dealt the day’s cards. Rowan worried after Aelin, but he never, ever suppressed her. He allowed her to go about on her daily business, he just wished he could accompany for the more dangerous activities. It was not coddling or stifling her, it was wishing for her safety. 

Let Rowan worry over his best friend (now wife) without being detested for it.

Had my own best friend put herself in danger, I would have her head for it. I don’t know who told you only friends can worry over your safety, but they lied. Rowan is entitled to being angry at Aelin when she leaves in the dead of night and comes back drenched in blood. 

If it was Aedion who was furious, would you have such a problem with this?

For fuck’s sake, a significant other is just your bestest friend who loves you romantically rather than platonically. 

Rowan proves time and time again he will always stand beside Aelin; when he pleaded for his cousins’ aid in the war, when he was prepared to give his life for her during QoS, when he was always, always, always there to lend a hand.

He extended a hand... but she was always the one to take it.

He was respectful and courteous of her every boundary, and she his. They never waded too deep into each other’s pasts, never pried or tried to lift that barricade. They gave each other space, understanding.

Yes, I heard you, they didn’t have the best start. But the point of character arcs is to start in a bad place and haul oneself out. It wouldn’t have worked if Rowan was this sweet, gentle, warm character from the very beginning who kissed Aelin’s ass.

Rowan’s wife and unborn child had died, and he was forced to shoulder that burden alone. He was forced to deal with his war trauma alone. He was made into a monster, and he felt he deserved nothing less.

Rowan acted harshly towards Aelin because a few of her comments were triggering and insensitive towards his trauma, and if we can find it in ourselves to forgive Nesta Archeron (who I love very much, don’t attack me) we can forgive him for dealing badly with his issues. 

Just because he is a male, and he doesn’t cry or scream or outwardly show his hurt, we have seen from his part of view that he loved Lyria, and Aelin is so different from her, but he loves them both and his guilt is awful.

 His being protective over Aelin is a product of his trauma. He left his wife alone, and she was promptly murdered, alongside his unborn son or daughter. Don’t you think it still frightens him to leave Aelin be, especially in their current war state? Even still, I can think of around two occasions where he was protective, and not one more.

What I’m trying to say is, Rowan is allowed to be flawed and PTSD-ridden and hurting.

What I’m trying to say is, he can make mistakes and fuck up from time to time.

What I’m trying to say is, he is worthy of love all the same.

#rowan whitethorn #pro rowan whitethorn #pro rowan #aelin galathynius #pro rowaelin #heir of fire #queen of shadows #empire of storms #tower of dawn #kingdom of ash #hof #qos #eos #tod #koa #please #let him be happy #he deserves so much more than your blind hatred #let male characters fuck up #theyre allowed to make mistakes #theyre human #let them learn

[our-lady-of-night-ravens]

The Bane of Our Family: Father

Inspired by @tri3tri’s S/W au along with a submission from @scorpiris-sideralis

There will be more for me to say at the end of the story.

~

In the Valley of Thorns, lived a princess who was born with the blood of both humans and fae. The crown princess of the Valley, under the tutelage of her father, the king, and the brightest scholars of the kingdom grew up to be an intelligent and cunning princess who was skilled in controlling her fae magic and was brought up to be a great Queen.

However, she knew that there were notable issues within the castle, starting with her family. Her father, who treated her like a national treasure, was possessive over her sweet and loving mother. The reason for that was simple. She didn’t love Father, at least not in the way father wanted her too. And so, Mother was forced to marry her father at a young age, even though most of his advisors were against the idea of father marrying a magic-less human. That reason alone was why many of her father’s advisors would look at her with scorn and disdain, no matter what she accomplished.

She cared deeply about her mother and treasured the unconditional love that she gave her and her younger sister from infancy. That was why for her sake, she would ascend to the throne and find a way to help her mother return to her true home. The princess spent years planning every decision out, gaining the favor of young nobles, winning over some of the members of her father’s court, and earning the love of the public.

However it was all torn apart when her father announced that he would be marrying another woman, a lady of a noble pureblood fae family, in hopes of giving birth to a son, and once she did, that child would be the next heir. He had denounced her as his heir, all that work, everything she did, it was apparently for naught. 

Then again she can’t be too surprised, her father’s advisors had been badgering him to take on a second wife of pure fae origin so he could have an heir of pureblood. 

Pureblood.

That was something about the Princess she couldn’t change about herself. She could study every book in the royal library and become the kingdom’s most brilliant scholar, she could take up the way of the blade and become the greatest swordsman in the Valley, she could even practice her magic and refine it to perfection that rivals even her father’s, but she could never change her blood. It was something that was always mentioned among the advisors like it was a blatant flaw of hers. Like it made it her inferior to all of them, despite having the Witch of Thorns’ blood running through her veins.

It simply wasn’t right, Mother, human though she may be, was the queen of the Valley of Thorns, had the proper authority to act upon her whims and punish everyone if she wasn’t so compassionate. It was disrespectful to see the court and the servants look at her and her mother with contempt despite all they’ve done for the kingdom. 

She had to listen to Sebek criticize her mother all the time, no matter how well she did her job as Queen because of her human origins. It was disrespectful for a fae who was no more than a guard to berate his queen for doing her duty. It was frustrating seeing her mother have no choice but to grow used to the hurtful comments around her no matter what she did and watching her father do nothing to prevent them.

When she confronted her father in his office, all he did was brush her off, like she was dust on his shoulder.

~ 

“Father I don’t understand why you would give in to your court’s whims.”

“This isn’t your business, I suggest that some of your studies be dropped as you are no longer heir.”

“But father, you would always say that you needn’t have to remarry because you would always have mother and my sister and me. Why did you suddenly change your mind now?”

“That is none of your concern, the Valley needs a proper heir and your mother simply hasn’t become pregnant in these past few years.”

“A proper heir? Have my actions not shown that I’m capable of being Queen? Or is it that… you’re ashamed of my human blood, ashamed of me and mother?”

His back grew rigid, “Daughter, I would watch your words in front of me.”

“I refuse, I need a proper answer from you father. Would you have preferred that mother was born fae? Did you not, when I was younger, say that you loved everything about mother, or was just that simply just a lie?”

“Young Lady…”

“I’m right, aren’t I? You don’t love mother, do you? You just think of her as a fun toy that you grew tired of don’t you? You certainly don’t care that she’s constantly harassed by the castle’s employees, from the court to Sebek even the maids go about berating her for her human blood. But I’ve never seen you once attempt to stop them.”

Her father’s ears were turning red from contempt and his eyes were glowering at her but she stood her ground.

“Or is that your plan? You stole her from her home, forced her into marriage, forced her to have your children only to abandon her in a way of breaking her down until she’s desperate for care and affection from you. Is this all just a part of your sick and twisted attempt of getting her to love you?”

*SLAP*

A red mark bloomed on the princess’s face, her father standing before her, hand raised. He had slapped her. She raised her hand to the mark on her face with wide eyes. In the past, she never would have believed that her doting father would even harm a hair on her head, let alone slap her across the face. It hurt, even though she knew what he put her mother through, he was still her father and she always wanted to appease him and make him proud. 

“That’s enough out of you, it seems you’ve grown as insufferably stubborn as your mother. Silver. Sebek. Escort the princess back to her room.” His guards, who were waiting outside, entered his office. 

Silver was the first to approach her, “Princess please follow me.” But she pulled herself away from him.

“I’m not leaving until I ask one last thing to my father, Silver.” 

Malleus sighed before answering, “And pray tell would that be, daughter?” 

She stood up straight and looked him straight in the eyes, “I know you father, I know that for years you’ve done all you can think of to get mother to love you, to have the family you desired. But I ask you if this is truly what you want to do. Do you truly mean to set Mother aside in favor of another and to have another on the throne?” 

He faltered for a moment before standing straight and tall, towering over his daughter, “Yes, and nothing is going to change my decision.”

She should’ve known. Mother always did say that father lied often. Like how he lied that he loved mother with all his heart. Or how he promised that she would be able to lead the Valley of Thorns proudly as Queen one day.

She lowered her eyes in a moment of sadness before glaring up at him in a split second before returning to a neutral face, “If that is your will,” She curtsied, “I hope you’re happy with your decision because there’s no going back. May your reign be long and prosperous, Your Majesty.” She made a quick turn before leaving, head facing forward, hands to her waist and her back straight, an exit filled with formal grace. 

On her way to her room, she began to get lost in her thought. Lilia was on his way to see his majesty when he spotted the young first princess walking almost aimlessly. So he called out to her.

“Princess.” Her attention was drawn to the voice calling out to her, she turned to face Lord Lilia, one of her father’s most trusted retainers. 

“Lord Lilia, I give my greetings.”

Now, now, princess, you needn’t have to greet this old one,” Lilia waved off her formality.

“Even if you are as you say, an ‘old one’, you are father’s most trustworthy retainer and have served the royal family since the time of my great grandmother, her majesty, The Witch of Thorns. To understate your prestige would be nothing less than rude. But that aside, did you need something of me, Lord Lilia?”

“Why yes, I was wondering how you were doing. I heard you were a touch shaken up after your father announced he would be remarrying and removing your title as heir.”

“I suppose I was shaken up however this matter is something that father has the final say in alone. If he wishes for that woman’s future child to be the next ruler, I have no choice but to set aside any opposition. I just came back from my father’s office and was planning on returning to my room.”

“I see but your highness, you just passed your bedroom door though,” she turned her head back to see the door to her bedroom just a few feet behind her.

“Oh! I didn’t realize… I must have been lost in my thoughts to notice, who knows where I could have ended up. Thank you for notifying me, Lord Lilia.” She turned around to enter her bedroom before remembering something, “Actually Lord Lilia,” The old fae’s ears perked before turning to her, “ I was wondering if you were on your way to see father… I meant to give him some policy proposals regarding the dispute regarding the villages along our border but it must have slipped my mind.”

The old fae smiled, “Actually, I, as a matter of a fact, was indeed on my way to see his majesty, I can deliver it on my way princess.” She smiled before entering her room and coming out with a small stack of papers in hand. 

“The first half of the pages consist of a set plan with can act towards for long term and my argument for the plan while the remaining half includes smaller short term solutions that should appease the residents for the time being along with the territory’s lord too.” 

Lilia’s face was a tad surprised, though the princess was a young adult to human standards, she was like a baby when compared to the average lifespan of a fae, and yet she comes up with intuitive solutions that most conservative fae would never think of in centuries but then again, look at who her mother is. The first female student of NRC and the young lady who stopped overblot after overblot in her first year alone, “You know to be quite honest your highness, whether or not you become Queen, I’m genuinely curious about what you’ll do for this country.”

“I appreciate the sentiment Lord Lilia but I’m afraid I might not be able to do as much anymore with my title as heir taken from me,” A saddened smile, present on her face. It pained Lilia to see the bright princess he knew with dreams as high as the sky so diminished, “Right now, looking after my mother and sister are what matters to me right now. Now if you excuse I’ll just return to my room.”

“Of course your highness. I’ll be off then.” Lilia left the princess to her own devices before setting off to his original course towards his majesty’s office.

~

Meanwhile, the princess closed her door before sitting in front of her vanity mirror. “Whew that was too close, I almost got excited in front of Lilia. My whole plan would have been ruined if that had happened.” A smile creeping on her face, “Though I can help but wonder what kind of expression father will have on his face when he sees my policy proposal... regret, annoyance, sadness? Oh, the possibilities.”

Father’s decision will surely backfire on him. She knows her father, to her, it would only be a matter of time before Father realizes that he regrets his decision. Father would never give up on Mother so easily, and the look on his face. He barely showed it but he must not have been aware of how she was harassed by the servants. 

No doubt he’ll investigate it further and when he does, he’ll find out the mastermind in no time. After all, if she could do it in less than a week with few resources then he should figure it out in a few days at most. He’ll realize just how untrustworthy the court is and eventually, father will have to admit his mistake and reappoint her. 

But until then...Let’s have Father suffer just for a little bit.

She looked at the small frame image of her mother and younger sister, ‘Perhaps I should arrange a tea party for mother and sister in the meantime. I can’t wait to tell them what I have planned.’ Her eyes begin to glow brightly.

The princess looked back at her reflection in her mirror, her green eyes, long black hair, and prominent horns made her a near spitting image of her father. If it weren’t for her facial structure, you wouldn’t see any of the queen’s genetics at all. ‘Oh, I’m sure mother will be excited to have father be away from her after so long. She has been going on about how she just wants some alone time.'

She thinks about how her father’s future second wife. From what she’s heard, the future second queen is a bit of an attention hog so she’ll surely demand father all of his free time. She wonders how long it’ll take before the court realizes their blunder about how the second queen is hardly active anyway outside of gossip tea parties and luxurious ballrooms. Meanwhile, her mother was never one who enjoyed being lavished in luxuries, much to her father’s dismay and worked hard in aiding this nation as a competent figure.

The princess couldn’t wait for the look of frustration on father’s and his retainers’ faces when dealing with this spoiled noble lady and how that woman will look whence realizes that she won’t be getting her happily ever after. Oh, the performance she’ll be able to watch alongside her sister and mother.

“How amusing this show will be...”

~ For Malleus and MC’s eldest daughter, I portrayed her as a cunning woman who cares about her mother deeply and will do what she can to ensure her mother’s happiness. Even if that means making her father miserable in the process.

Also I’m making a part 2 for this as well so expect that to coming soon.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst oc #twst mc #s/w au #my writing #malleus draconia #twst silver #Lilia Vanrouge #sebek zigvolt #twst kids #no beta read #yandere malleus draconia #malleus draconia x mc #Bane of Our Family

[lightrises]

"Only in allowing her to pass..." — Hornet, The Radiance, and the means by which Hallownest turned its victims against each other

A quick note: I read Hollow Knight as an anti-colonialist text. As such I'll be touching on topics related to colonialism as it's depicted in the world of the game, and said analysis will reflect both a sympathetic take on The Radiance and a critique of The Pale King that won't pull its punches. If this sounds up your alley, hello and thank you for the read! Let us be sad about these bugs together.

———

So!! A while back I realized something about pre-canon that felt rather... "curious" is one way to put it, I think. To wit: for all the effort and scheming and determination The Pale King poured into trying to get rid of The Radiance, neither of his plans involved directly killing her.

Was that his long game? Well, sure, that seems clear enough. His tack changed from luring the moths away from their god and creator to a more literal form of incarceration once the infection became a factor, but at its core the end goal never really changed—The Pale King very sincerely wished to destroy Radiance via obsolescence. The Seer lends us foreshadowing to confirm as much:

[Image descriptions: Two screenshots from Hollow Knight, showing the Seer and Ghost in the Seer's alcove at the Resting Grounds. Across both screenshots, the Seer tells Ghost the following: "None of us can live forever, and so we ask those who survive to remember us. Hold something in your mind and it lives on with you, but forget it and you seal it away forever. That is the only death that matters." End description.]

(Which, by the way and given the context, talk about an extremely unsubtle allusion to cultural genocide huh!!! Whew.)

In any case, we're left with a whole bunch of machinations which build up to... well, two very roundabout attempts at committing deicide. That's kind of weird, all things considered! Why not just do the deed in one fell swoop and get it over with?

This could be for any number of reasons. Maybe the king was devoid of the means to instantly kill another higher being. Maybe his personal sense of scruples stopped him short of signing off on MURDER murder (although, y'know, the aforementioned genocide + eternal imprisonment = still cool and copasectic apparently!). Maybe the long drawn-out cruelty was the point. Maybe the idea of playing fuckign 4D chess with the circumstances was too delicious for him to pass up—that man did love to tinker and stick his claws where they sure as hell didn't belong—or maybe it was a little bit of All The Things. Who knows!!

But interrogating The Pale King's methodology on this count isn't what I'm here for, at least not really. The main reason I raise this question at all is that in her own way, Hornet did too.

"I'd urge you to take that harder path... "

See, going by The Pale King's actions and what The White Lady explicitly says, they both foresaw two outcomes wrt the infection: it can be allowed to spread, or it can be contained. At Teacher's Archives, Quirrel acknowledges the fact that Ghost is expected to do... something about this, but he doesn't elaborate on what HE thinks that's supposed to be apart from the obvious "Gotta bust into Black Egg Temple first". Hornet is the one person who presents to us—to Ghost—what's framed as a third option: confront and destroy the infection at its source.

And she doesn't bring it up like it's just another tactic for Ghost to consider, prim and indifferent to what they would do. She nudges them towards it, actively, up to the point where she throws herself into the fray against Hollow at a juncture that's uniquely dangerous to her and her alone just to make that option feasible.

Even when she's couching it in disclaimers that this is still Ghost's decision to make (and let's be fair, she's extremely not wrong about that lol), no one can pretend Hornet is unbiased. It's obvious in that buttoned-down Hornet kind of way that she is way the hell done with the increasingly tenuous stalemate that's kept Hallownest's desiccated corpse from collapsing in on itself. Personally it's hard for me not to read some Toriel Undertale-esque "My father was too entrenched in his own foolishness to pursue any course of action that would have DEFINITIVELY ended this" shade into her stance here, regardless of whether that's strictly true in canon.

And that bit—Hornet's hopes for an end to Hallownest's stasis, moreover her grim calculation of what needs to be done to get there—that's the bit I find super interesting but likewise tragic and depressing as shit, on multiple levels. In no small part because a) canon itself gestures towards Hornet feeling conflicted about the very plan she's pushing, and moreover b) she has at least two (2) damn good reasons to feel that way.

So, what do I mean by that? Let's look here first:

[Image description: A screenshot from Hollow Knight, of Hornet and Ghost inside the Temple of the Black Egg, standing in front of the unsealed egg itself. Hornet has been struck by the Dream Nail and her dialogue is displayed as follows: "... Could it achieve that impossible thing? Should it?" End description.]

As the curtain is about to drop on things one way or another, Hornet thinks,

... Could it achieve that impossible thing? Should it?

Now, looking at that last bit it's easy to go "Oh no, Hornet's worried that Ghost won't survive killing The Radiance!" And I do think that's part of it: Hornet is, categorically, not her father. By endgame it's clear she's not content to view her Void-borne siblings as tools to be used then disposed of. She's also well aware that as a healthy autonomous Vessel amongst the countless dead, Ghost is the only person left alive who has a fighting chance against The Radiance. Knowing someone is the only qualified candidate for the job doesn't make encouraging them to embrace a probable death sentence any less of a bitter pill to swallow, though. And odds are on that this sentiment extends to Hollow too, who IS going to die no matter what happens here. To put it bluntly, it's more than reasonable to conclude that Hornet hates the absolute fuck out of this.

But I don't think that's all there is to it either. Remember what I said earlier about The Pale King's bids for genocide? Well, it's not like the man deigned to limit his efforts to just the moth tribe.

"We do not choose our mothers... "

On top of everything else—an infected Hallownest being all she's ever known, the fact that she only exists because of the infection, the list goes on—Hornet has spent her life wedged into a position that's been uncomfortable and terminally unglamorous at best: she is both a daughter of her father's kingdom and of Deepnest.

Deepnest, which like the moths and many others was here long before the wyrm and his lady wife swanned onto the scene and the God Become Bug laid claim to everything the Light touched plus a considerable amount of change. THAT Deepnest, which has fought claw and thread to retain its sovereignty against same-said settler king, and for which Herrah not only surrendered her life but also agreed to bed her worst enemy, all in hopes of securing a viable future for her people (put a pin in that last part by the way, I'll come back to it soon).

Two Worlds, One Family (Ft. An Indigenous Woman Trying Her Damndest To Work With What She's Got Versus An Imperialist Who Only Signed Up For This Because He Needed The Political Favor THAT Badly, So It's The Height Of Dysfunctional Actually). Fun times!!!!

The baggage this entails for Hornet is gnarly enough without implications made by The White Lady and the pre-canon timeline of events and even Team Cherry's dev notes that the king may well have looked at baby Hornet, gone "YOINK", then ensured she spent the lion's share of her childhood reared within the pearly auspices of his Pale Court*. That would be rather advantageous for Him Specifically after all, the potential to mold a born foe into a future ally and even have her trained in combat under the same tutelage as her doomed sibling. And far be it from him to stop a grown Hornet—his own flesh and blood too!—from making Deepnest her forever home if she so pleased. He totally wouldn't be reneging on his "fair bargain made" by doing this one simple thing until Hornet came of age, not t e c h nic c a l l y.

If that is indeed the case, there's a non-zero chance Hornet's formative years were a hot mess of cultural alienation and being a good deal more privy than most to just how much of a bastard her father could be. There's an equally non-zero chance that at some point she stood or sat within earshot as The Pale King finally, finally dropped all pretense and euphemism to name the Light for precisely what (for who) it was.

See, in conjunction with the question that started this whole dang train of thought I've been asking this one too: Does Hornet know? When she speaks of confronting "the heart of [the] infection" does she know she's talking about not just a literal person but someone very specific? The Radiance, who god though she may be shares skin in the game alongside Hornet as a native woman screwed over by the same settler king, likewise deprived of her kin and saddled with a life gone horrendously pear-shaped?

I'll assume for the sake of exploring the possibility and because I think it's a likely one anyway that yes, Hornet does know. She knows, and despite everything can't help empathizing. She might even look at Radiance and see bits and pieces both reflected and slightly inversed in her own mother: Radiance was forced to the sidelines while her people—her children, the brood she was meant to lead and care for—died out under The Pale King's rule, and it's no stretch to assume she's at least as upset about that as she has been about everything else; Herrah too took drastic measures for her people's sake, trying to head off annihilation by relegating herself to the sidelines in an act that was as much calculated risk as an attempt to find wiggle room and leverage in the face of a nasty proposition.

A calculated risk that, if things continue as they are, might well amount to nothing as the rest of Deepnest gets eaten alive by the infection. It survived The Pale King's advances for so so long, only to fall here. Herrah's sacrifice would be for naught; the other tribes—themselves the king's victims—would keep succumbing to the infection too.

And this is where things fall apart.

"... or the circumstance into which we are born."

Let's be clear: I think Hornet is wise enough to know what's what here, that all the carnage and suffering falls on her father's head for starting this slow-motion trainwreck in the first place. Hallownest wasn't always Hallownest. This domain was Radiance's home first, along with many others. It was the worm-turned-king who rolled up on the scene unsolicited and decided this was a ""'problem""" that had to be """solved""".

But the fact of the matter is that he's gone and The Radiance is here, raging, seemingly inconsolable. Above and beyond being Deepnest's rightful heir, Hornet isn't in a position to countenance more splash damage even if the grief and fury fueling it makes perfect sense. She can understand without ever bringing herself to love Radiance, and she can bend her knee to practicality even if she hates the everloving shit out of it because the fact that it "has" to end this way isn't fair.

This lends itself to one last awful conclusion: that Hornet has probably considered and (rightly or wrongly) discarded the possibility that Radiance can be saved, at least not without dragging more collateral along for the ride. If even her mother and every other enemy to the king seemed to dismiss talking Radiance down as an option way back when... well. Why should Hornet hope for any better after things have escalated so far?

Again, it's practical. A practical net good is what Hornet strives for. And again, it fucking sucks.

For extra tragedy points, this makes Hornet's extended crypticness around Ghost followed by her last minute casting about for a reason to tell them "Wait, don't; not just yet" that she never voices even more of a gut punch. She can't bring herself to burden Ghost with the context that haunts her so, least of all when it might weaken their resolve to go through with what (she thinks) needs doing.

It's the "same song, different verse" which led to the mantis tribe and Deepnest being pitted against each other: Hallownest rigged the game so that two women who could have been powerful allies—who have a mutual vested interest in driving out settler rule—wound up poised as enemies instead. And how awful is that? The king for all his being extremely fucking dead still gets the last laugh, because outside of a miracle the game never manifests Hornet can salvage what her mother started and look forward to a future where Deepnest pulls itself back from the brink if and only if The Radiance dies.

Resolution comes at the price of a completed genocide. Add two more dead siblings to the unconscionable pile thereof, while we're at it. That's what it boils down to whether or not Hornet can bear to articulate it as such, and there's no grace or even a properly bittersweet ending to wring from this clusterfuck. And that is rough.

———

* This has been better explained elsewhere, but a quick rundown: The White Lady tells Ghost that Hornet and Herrah "were permitted little time together." On its surface this can be taken to mean that Hornet was still very young when Herrah was shipped off to Eternal Dreamland—except this doesn't jive with the fact that we meet Hornet as an adult. If the stasis kicked in once the Dreamers went to their rest, which in turn halted the aging process for every living bug in Hallownest, AND before all this Hornet experienced little by the way of quality time with her birth mother... I think you can see where I'm going with this.

To top it off we've got Team Cherry weighing in ominously from their dev notes on Herrah: "As part of the agreement for her alliance and her role as a dreamer, King gave her a child (Hornet). Was she allowed to keep this child or was she taken away?" This isn't confirmation by itself of course, but given additional canon details (see above): Can I get a "yikes" in the chat fellas.

#hollow knight #hornet (hollow knight) #hornet hollow knight #hk hornet #the radiance #hk radiance #herrah #hk herrah #hollow knight meta #sup folks it's been a minute since i dropped a whole dang essay but Here We Go!!!!!!

[sylvie-writes]

Pixie

pairing: steve rogers x wife!reader x daughter!sarah rogers

prompt: Dec 12 - Elf On The Shelf 

warnings: none that i can think of! 

word count: 1814

author’s note: pardon any mistakes! this is my first entry for @the-ce-horniest-book-club Home For The Holidays!

another a/n: I’m sorry that the writing style on this isn’t superb. I have a lot to do today and I totally forgot about this, yet I still really wanted to write it. Hopefully you all still enjoy! xoxo

PART OF MY CHRISTMAS CELEBRATION (check the tag for the masterlist)

(gif below is not mine, nor do i take credit for it

“Look, Daddy. Teacher says every time a bell rings, an angel gets his wings!” Zuzu looked to her father and he sweetly smiled down at her. “That’s right, that’s right.”

With that the movie ended and the credits rolled. Tonight was the first day of Steve’s holiday break, allowing him to spend some family time with you and Sarah. Since Steve was still trying to catch up on new movies and such, you suggested It’s a Wonderful Life. It was released just a few years after he went into the ice so you assumed he would enjoy it, as would Sarah. The toddler shared a love for vintage things just as he father. To her, it was so fascinating that Steve was from another time that she always begged for stories. 

At the moment, you three were curled up on the couch in your humble and small Brooklyn apartment. Sarah’s tiny figure was half laid on your lap. Her head was resting on your sweatpants-clad thighs while her own legs were tucked into her body to retain warmth. As for Steve, you were leaned up against his chest, laying at an angle while the man remained faced forward, one muscular arm wrapped around your shoulders. Occasionally he’d turn his head to shower you in some form of affection. 

“So, how’d you like the movie, Stevie?”

Steve shifted in his seat, now enveloping you with both arms, careful of Sarah who was still sleeping. He smiled down on you with a dopey yet adorable and loving smile. 

“I think that it was a great suggestion, doll.”

With vigor he immediately cut off your unspoken words and kissed you deeply. Suddenly, Steve’s not so innocent kiss was cut short when Sarah made you both remember her presence, the ever so quiet and sleepy “eww” making you both laugh. 

“Well hello, sleepyhead.” 

Sarah pushed herself up from her laid out position and tiredly scrambled to her feet. She then ran to stand between Steve’s legs and leaned forward to lay against his chest. 

“M‘sleepy, Daddy.”

Your daughter’s eyes started to close and Steve took that as a sign to go ahead and scoop her up in his arms. Steve did so and then bent over a bit for you to kiss the dozing little girl goodnight. 

….

As Steve helped Sarah get ready for bed, you got did your nightly routine as well. Once you had finished and made it to bed, Steve soon joined you, the two of you ready to turn in for the night. 

By the time the lights were out and both you and your husband were sleeping soundly, it was a bit past midnight. 

For a few hours you slept comfortably, occasionally intertwining your legs with Steve’s and such, especially since that man was such a bed hog and he didn’t even know it. 

Around four in the morning you suddenly popped up having remembered one important thing. 

Today was December 1st.

To the average person it was just another day, but to your daughter Sarah, it was the time for her elf on the shelf, Pixie, to arrive home for the holidays. You mentally scolded yourself for forgetting such a thing as Sarah had been talking non stop all week long about Pixie’s upcoming visit. She was so excited and her little friends at school told tales about their elves on the shelf making your daughter even more excited. 

Without second thought, you popped out of bed despite your body screaming at you to go back under the oh-so inviting sheets and to wrap yourself into Steve’s warm embrace.

As you had gotten out of the bed, you pushed Steve’s heavy arm off of your waist, and let’s just say you could have been a bit gentler with your actions.

“Woah (y/n), what’s wrong?”

Somnolent yet very much alert, Steve now sat up in the bed, even reaching to turn on the lamp, blinding you both. 

After a bit of a hiss, you scurried to his side of the bed to turn off the nuisance of a light. You had calmed down a bit and just quickly ran your fingers through Steve’s messy hair while kissing his forehead and purposely coaxing him back to sleep.

“I have to go and find Sarah’s elf on the shelf. She’ll be heartbroken if Pixie isn’t out tomorrow morning.”

Steve nodded having understood the matter. He then got out of bed despite your pleas for him to go back to bed. 

From there, you and Steve spent a good half an hour searching through your shared closet in search of that disguised cardboard box that held a select few of Christmas decorations, including Pixie. Sarah has always had a knack for finding tucked away gifts or just anything you’ve hidden from her for that matter. That is why you and Steve decided to throw the elf on the shelf and its accessories in that box so she wouldn’t find it. 

Eventually, you found said item. The whole process would have been faster if it wasn’t the middle of the “night”, but with it being so early in the morning, you two had to carefully dance around each other in hopes of not waking your sleeping angel. 

Together, you and Steve quietly tiptoed down the squeaky hallway. One would think that after all of those stealth missions, you and Steve would be able to handle sneaking around your own apartment, but alas, children are a lot more attentive than the enemies you have dealt with in the past. 

After spending a few minutes tediously assembling Pixie and her accessories, you and Steve finally came to design a finished project you both thought Sarah would enjoy. 

You and Steve had decided to set Pixie on the kitchen counter with her own bowl of cereal as Sarah was always up before you both. The little miss would be preparing her bowl of cereal and hopefully catch sight of her elf friend. 

Steve looked to you and groggily grinned, the two of you now a bit awake from the minimal adrenaline rush. 

Unfortunately, that lasted for a very short time because the minute you laid your head on Steve’s shoulder, your eyes shut and apparently you unintentionally fell asleep. It was no use fighting the sleep as it was inevitable at this point. Steve just chuckled at how easily you succumbed to the slumber as you were just energetically talking to him not even seconds ago. He then tenderly placed his hands upon your back and scooped you up bridal style, carrying you back to bed for a few more hours of much needed sleep. 

That morning you and Steve both woke up, same time as usual, and to no surprise, found Sarah in the kitchen. Although, before you both rounded the corner to step foot into the kitchen, you heard Sarah’s voice as she attempted to whisper. Looking to Steve with furrowed brows he looked back at you with shrugged shoulders. It wasn’t until you quickly peaked your head around the corner that you realized she was talking to Pixie. 

When you both found that out, you decided to stay behind the wall for a minute more to let her finish telling the elf what she wanted for Christmas. Luckily, either you and Steve were always to overhear what she’d ask for from Santa. Of course she still wrote a letter to Santa and you both would use that, but sometimes she’d drop a few things here and there to elf on the shelf. 

Though this time when you heard her request, it caught you off guard. 

“Hi Pixie, Mommy and Daddy are sleeping right now and I wanted to tell you this now before they wake up.”

Sarah placed her finger to her lips and made a shushing sound. You quietly laughed as did your husband. 

“Anyway, Daddy never gets to stay home for Christmas and I know this is a lot to ask for, so I wasn’t going to ask for anything else. I was hoping you could tell him I said this. As Mommy says, it’s always better to ask in ‘vance.” 

With that Sarah blew a kiss to the elf and turned back to her bowl of cereal. 

As quietly as possible, you once more turned to Steve who was practically breathing down your neck. Little had Sarah known that her father had indeed taken off the whole month of December. 

Sarah was just an angel, but what really tugged at the strings of your heart was when she asked for this and was willing to sacrifice a few silly toys just for her father to stay home this year.

That child was just as selfless as her father. 

Communicating with your eyes, both you and Steve silently agreed to tell her now. That way she’d still ask for some real gifts because what’s the fun in Christmas for a kid if they can’t open something from under the tree? 

So maybe you and Steve liked to spoil her during Christmas…

What? Sarah was your only baby and as any parent would do, you’d spoil her, and only because she was such a good child. 

With that, you and Steve finally walked into the kitchen where Sarah excitedly greeted you both. 

“Hey honeybun, Daddy and I have something important to tell you.”

You rested your forearms on the kitchen counter, where Sarah sat directly across from you. 

Steve came to join you by your side, a bowl of cereal in his hands. 

Sarah set down her spoon and intently looked at you both. 

“You know how I’m not always home for Christmas, hon?”

Sarah sadly shook her head, looking to Steve who was currently talking. 

“Well… I was able to talk off some time so I get to spend all of December with my two favorite girls!”

Immediately Sarah jumped from her chair, making you freak out for a second, and then she ran around the counter to hug Steve who welcomed her with open arms.

She wrapped her arms around Steve’s neck and he swayed back and forth as you watched the adorable interaction between the two. 

When you both weren’t looking, Sarah discreetly waved to Pixie and sent her a quiet “thanks.” 

Steve’s crazy frequency of hearing undoubtedly picked up the sound and he tried to look over his shoulder where Sarah was resting.   

“Did you say something, doll?”

Sarah picked her head up from its place on Steve's shoulder and she leaned back to be face to face with the man. Nodding her head “no,” she kissed his nose and you adoringly smiled at the two. 

Needless to say, that was the best Christmas gift Sarah could have asked for. Well, besides for the puppy she put on her list. And no, you and Steve didn’t cave on that one. 

#hbc home for the holidays #chris evans #chris evans x reader #steve rogers x reader #Steve Rogers #steve rogers x y/n #dad steve rogers #steve rogers x sarah #sarah rogers #dad steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x wife reader #sylvie writes christmas celebration

[outrunningthedark]

I wanna join your fight in pointing out how Shannon's behavior will have left deep scars on Christopher but it still hits too close to home. My mother didn't even leave, and she even broke down once trying to apologize to me (tho I still haven't been able to fully forgive her, I just can't trust her, I am not strong enough to bride that gap on my end) so like I can't even imagine what it's like for Christopher but dear God, I wish my father was anything like Eddie because all my father did when he was confronted was confirm that he thought everything he did was right - even though, he has more than once made fun of my self harm scars, and called me crazy, while using a spinning hand gesture by his head(I have mental disorders).

So like, yeah, Eddie has fucking learned and is there for his son, while Shannon just gave up, like Buck's parents did on him. It doesn't matter the reason, it doesn't matter that they were overwhelmed. It doesn't matter that my parents were war refugees, when a child needs their parent, especially when the whole world is built against the child's needs, and they're not there... That's a pain, a scar, that can seldom fully heal

Hello, my dear. 💕 The fact that you felt comfortable sharing your story with me lets me know I'm doing the right thing by exposing my own "horror stories". We need to know we're not alone in our fight for survival. I was raised and am still "cared for" by both of my parents, but neither one was or is anything like Eddie. My mother (as most of you know) was not confident in my ability to be independent when I was growing up, and even now will make comments about me not having the skills to help myself. Unless physical and occupational therapists told her to change her ways, or taught me something themselves (tying shoes was a big one!), she did what she believed was "best for her daughter", and that usually meant retaining control over my every move, because at least she would know I was *protected*. (I genuinely think my sister's death played a part in my mother keeping me sheltered whenever possible. It was her way of KNOWING I was safe - as long as I was always with my mom, or "letting" her make decisions, the world couldn't hurt me.) My father... he's not a bad guy. He gave me slightly more freedom when my mother wasn't around - if she was at work on a Saturday and I wanted to go to a friend's house on a whim he'd let me. And he'd even let me go for "walks" with them alone (ofc by "walks" I mean they'd push my chair down the sidewalk, lol). But, for the most part, he agreed with whatever choices she made because doing otherwise would trigger an outburst from her. I was born in a different decade than Christopher (Gavin), so how my parents handled my CP two/three decades ago is a lot different than how parents of kids with CP today deal with it. Research is more complex, new "treatments" are discovered - you can't cure CP, but the things I went through in my adolescence aren't necessarily a doctor's first choice nowadays. I didn't have sit downs with my mother or father where they explained my disability, where they told me I should never stop trying new things no matter how scary it seemed. They still don't have a grasp on what ableism is, if you want the truth, so I've never heard one of them genuinely apologize for mistreating me due to my limitations (unlike Eddie, who is quick to admit when he fucks up). All this is to say that people who want to play the "Eddie left, too!" card in defense of Shannon fail to understand the importance of him CHOOSING to stay even AFTER his wife decided it was her turn to go. He could have read that note and thought, "I'm still not ready to face Christopher's CP. I gotta get out of here." Instead, he realized his son needed him more than ever and took on three jobs just to pay the bills, and also to make sure Christopher had clothes to wear, food to eat, and a bed to sleep in. Everyone who follows me/reads my posts knows how much the "I actually like Shannon" conversation irks me. Yeah, yeah, it's a tv show, and maybe you don't have a disability so you can't relate to the pain. Or maybe you DO have a disability, but you lucked out and were born to parents who did not look at your condition as a burden. (I've heard that before.) I'm sorry, but when I look at Shannon, I see nothing redeemable in her character. Even before she passed, she told Eddie "I'm still learning how to be someone's mother." She had NO CLUE if she'd ever get her shit together. Let's not twist her words into something else just to make her more likable. She doesn't even NEED to be likable. Mothers leave their children everyday IRL, disabled or not. We don't fuck with them, do we? Why are we "defending" or "stanning" a fictional character who left her child, when really we should be grown enough to say "as sad as this may be, it's good that such a sensitive topic is being addressed"? Y'all will support domestic violence storylines (hello, Maddie stans!), internalized homophobia/homophobic families (Eddie stans hoping for that religious guilt to come through), but the mother abandoning her disabled son is where the problem lies? Hmmm. Alright. I wonder why that might be?

#anonymous #tv: 911 #tv: 9-1-1 #christopher diaz #eddie diaz #anti shannon diaz

[adsosfraser]

The Stone’s Toll - Chapter Ten

Read on AO3

“We can’t stay here.” 

 “No, we can’t.” Jamie pulled his wife onto his bare chest. “And wee Hamish has sent a letter, requesting his cousin’s aide. Though he was vague on which, I’m sure he wasna comfortable writing Jamie Fraser on something the English could see.” 

 “So we go to Leoch with Fergus?” 

“I willna put ye in danger, the travel there will be treacherous now wi’ the English on our throats everywhere.” 

 “Well, I’m certainly not leaving you, James Fraser. Have you forgotten I’m wanted too? We go together. And, with us gone, Lallybroch will be safer, we’ll be safer for a while. But…” 

 “What is it Sassenach?” 

 “I know you and the sea aren’t close friends, but ports shouldn’t be as monitored as they were right after Culloden. The islands will be safer, Charles even fled to the Isle of Skye to go to France. In the future, some islands are even able to retain some of their culture, their tartan. We can always go there, it would be safer while we wait… for a pardon.” 

 “A pardon?” He was shocked. 

 “Yes. When I returned I placed three letters in the post at Inverness. Copies of historical letters I assume. They may give us the freedom we want.” 

 A sharp breath escaped his lips and he slumped back on the chair. “Christ, a pardon. You know how well that went the last time.” 

 “But this time there’s no more war, we’re done with that horror.” 

 “Aye, we’ll seek Hamish, then if we canna stay, we’ll bide on one of the wee islands.”

 “What’s this about ye up and leaving Jamie Fraser! And dinna think I’m not cross wi’ ye too Claire!”

 “Jenny,” Claire took her hand, “you know it isn’t safe for us to stay here. We got lucky the last time.” 

 “And I’ll no’ have my wife sleeping in a cave.”

 “Well, ye two eejits could at least wait ‘til yer goddaughter is christened! Ye dinna ha’ to leave wi’ yer tails tucked between yer legs so soon.” 

 “Goddaughter.” Her heart warmed and she squeezed Jenny’s arm.

 “I ken yer already her aunt, but ye’d make a fine goddaughter to the lass. I suppose that would make yer daft husband her godfather. Puir lass.” She feigned pity for the tiny girl in her arms. “Would the both o’ ye wait, jes’ one more day?” 

 Claire looked back at Jamie but already knew their answer. “Of course.” 

 The ceremony was brief, the priest wasn’t prepared to perform it so soon. Caitlin gurgled up at Claire in her arms. The holy water was sprinkled over her tiny forehead in the small kirk near Lallybroch. Other than the slight cry from the chill of water, Caitlin was a perfect baby. The Frasers and Murrays all joined back together to Lallybroch to celebrate. They enjoyed a small stew of rabbit and potato, the most filling one in weeks. Father Ross had the death certificate for Fergus ready to sign, but on seeing the boy alive and healthy, he walked towards the fire in the Great Room. 

 “Wait,” Claire shouted to his back. “Don’t burn it. Jenny, will you sign that?” 

 “He’s clearly no’ deid Claire, are ye off yer heid?” 

 “No, it’s just, it’s important that the document isn’t destroyed. I can’t explain how.” 

 “Verra weel.” She plucked it out of the Father’s hands and went off to the study. She mumbled, knowing long ago not to question her sister's strange nature. 

 Claire had ripped through the fabric of her dresses and the contents of her leather bag to pull out every piece of gold, silver, and jewellery that was left during the hours waiting for Father Ross. It was little less than three years’ salary in her time, but now it would support Lallybroch for years to come. She dumped it all out on the dining and the jewels, gold, and silver scattered and clattered against the wood surface. She had put away some for her and Jamie of course, enough to be comfortable on their journey, but even with the small dent into the funds on the table, it was still an astounding sum. Jamie spied her wedding ring on a chain within the pile and raised a brow to her, but she shrugged her shoulders in reply. 

 “A christening gift.” 

 Everyone at the table stared dumbfounded at the treasure disorganised on the table. A ‘Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ’ was supplied by her son. 

 “How Claire?” Ian piped up. 

 “I didn’t steal it if that’s what you're asking.”

 “Well, how on earth did ye find so much?” Jenny yelled, exasperated. 

 “It was my inheritance from my parents and uncle. And the man whose advances I turned down…gave some of it to me.” 

 “Jesus, Mary, and Bride, ye’ve been hiding this away all this time?” 

 “No, I’ve just recently acquired it myself. But now, it can be put to good use instead of rotting in some bank. Take it, Jenny, use it to save Lallybroch from the famine, clearances, and drought to come.”

 Jenny planted a sloppy kiss onto Claire’s cheek and handed Caitlin over to Ian. She grabbed her arms and began jumping excitedly. Claire even thought she heard a squeal from the small woman. Displays of affection from the woman were rare, and Claire felt so happy and touched that she included her in it. 

 “Claire ye have no idea how this will help us.” 

 “I have some idea.” 

 Their packing was done, and the horses were all lined up for the journey. Jenny embraced Claire, and she was reminded of the parting before Culloden all over again. 

 “Ye come back to us sister,” she raised her voice to a shout so Jamie could hear, “I dinna care much if this oaf does.” 

 “I love ye too Janet.” He pulled her from Claire into a giant hug. 

 “Och, ye ken I love ye too, a bràithair. Now, try to come back to us as quick as ye can. Lallybroch will be missing her Laird.”  

 A plant along the trail made Claire pause. It was a forget me not, and though it was only the beginning of March, it was blooming brilliantly against the grass of the glen. It couldn’t have been a coincidence that they were so close to the standing stones when she found it. She knew they needed to go back together, for closure. So she jumped off her horse and scooped her hands into the dirt. 

 “Jamie I want to go to Craigh na Dun before we stop into Inverness.” 

 Jamie pulled back on the reins of his horse and stalled in the middle of the path before Claire. He looked down at his wife and the flowers in her hands.

 “If you don’t want to that’s fine, I just wanted to plant these there, and we might never get another chance to do so.” 

 “Aye, we’ll go.”

 He dismounted his horse in one swift move. Carefully, Jamie helped Claire back up to her horse without crushing the delicate flowers in the process. Jamie passed the reins of his own horse to his son and climbed up behind his wife on her mare. 

 “Fergus, be a good lad and find a place to shelter in Inverness. Something not too in the open, or conspicuous either.” Jamie pulled out the bag of coins and tossed it to him. 

 “Oui, milord. I shall not fail you.” 

 Milord and papa, milady and maman, had become as interchangeable to Fergus as Jamie’s Sassenach, mo gràidh, mo nighean donn, and the countless other affectionate names he could come up with for his wife. 

 “Now off wi’ ye son, we’ll be shortly after.” 

 They held tight to each other, not able to bear even a second of lost connection. Fog clung to the air surrounding the tall monoliths and blocked the vision to the moor below. 

 “I wish I could punch it. But it won’t even let me do that.” 

 “How about this one to the side. Not too much danger of falling in fer yer wee hand.”

 She pulled slightly apart from him for the first time since they created the hi together. Her arm trembled as she reached out to lightly touch the stone closest to the centre one. Though it had become an unwitting victim of its brother’s actions, it would have to do. Lining up her arm, she delivered the first blow that jolted from the cold surface to the bones of her arm and shoulders 

 “Fuck you!” She screamed a gut-wrenching cry as she slammed her fist into the rock. “Fuck you! Fuck!”

 Her breath hitched and Jamie gathered her once again in his arms. He kissed her skinned knuckles. Giving her a few minutes to calm her racing heart and heaving lungs, Jamie cradled her tight to his chest, one arm under her knees and the other supporting her back. How many more tears would she cry, for something that was only the size of a blueberry? She knew she’d never lose the feeling of grief, but it would become more manageable most days. With her husband there to bear it with her, she knew it would be a certainty. 

 “I’m ready.” She patted his chest. “Are you?” 

 “Aye.” 

 “Do you want to punch it too?” 

 “No, that bastard stone’s taken too much from us. I won’t give it the satisfaction of flesh and blood from my hands as weel.” 

 She wanted to reach out and cradle the voice she had once heard to her chest, protect her against the violence of the stones. But it seemed it was her daughter instead who protected her. Digging the small hole into the ground by the outer stones, she smiled tearfully. Jamie’s strong hands were right beside hers, guiding the dirt away. Together they scooped the small plant into their hands, a mismatch of Jamie’s on top of Claire’s and then Claire’s on top of Jamie’s. They patted the dirt mound and encased the stems in the nutrients. With the task finished, Claire fell into Jamie’s lap and began to weep. She stroked his shirt with dirtied hands and left stains on the white linen. He rubbed the fabric on her back and Claire felt the moisture fall onto her hair and slowly down to her scalp. She offered him her sgian dubh and he etched into the centre stone with sharp angles, leaving the blade there as a gift.  Baby Fraser.  Claire’s hand trembled in his grip and she was almost consoled by the fact that she could feel his shaking too; he didn’t hide how it affected him as well. “I trust yer grandsire and grandmam are keeping ye out o’ trouble  a leannan . I love you. Tell Faith I love her too, and I ken she protects ye up there, but jes’ because she’s older doesna mean ye canna protect her as weel. Jes’ like I do fer yer auntie. Ye mind what yer family says, and we’ll meet again soon enough.” 

 Claire knelt down and gently cradled the small flower in her hand. “I love you, my baby girl. We love you so much.” 

 Jamie ripped off a strip from his sark and wrapped it around her bloodied knuckles with a kiss. They stayed to talk to the stone for a while. Jamie laughed with Claire after sharing an incident from his boyhood about a goat, some string, a bucket of shite, and his sister. Claire pulled out the photos from within her pockets and shared her child-self to their daughters, and the interesting marvels of the future. Jamie was proud he recognised the ‘airyplane’ from when Claire brought out the black and white pictures in the cave. He was bewildered of course at first, cursing the strange magic, but once he saw the brilliant smile of his Sassenach he knew the depiction couldn’t hold any evil. He especially liked seeing her as a bairn, with pigtails and a pink frilly dress and how the photos showed the change from cute baby to mature woman. She set one into the plastic wrap, a photo of her, her parents, and her uncle and buried it beneath the earth. 

 “Your family is with you always, my darling girl.” 

 With one last glance, they rode back to Inverness holding each other on the saddle. 

 Their short stay in Inverness was that: short. After the first night of full bellies and a warm fire, the innkeeper alerted the travellers to the presence of redcoats fifteen miles away. It gave them time to prepare themselves, instead of another hasty retreat to Leoch. 

 It was not nearly as strong of a fortress as it had once been. 

 Claire was put to use straight away, mending flesh and bone. Jamie was spirited away as well to advise his cousin in the Laird’s Tower. The only bright spot was the wonderful Mrs. Fitz. Fergus spent much of his time messing around the surgery and playing with the medicines, much to Claire’s annoyance. No matter how many times he insisted it would not happen again, his nimble little fingers were constantly filching items off of shelves and tables. So she sent him off to the kitchens.

 The ledgers had become impossible, and Leoch was close to ruin from partially funding the Jacobite cause. They felt the sharp absence of those who had fought bravely alongside them. None were left. Most of the men residing in the lands were either too old, too young, or too crippled to fight. There was talk of taking up a deal with the British, to leave Leoch and settle somewhere comfortable in America. Hamish was inclined to that option more and more each day. The Lairdship was not an easy thing for a twelve-year-old, let alone under such stress of a post-war climate. So, it was decided that the MacKenzies would sell Leoch to the British for land somewhere deep in Virginia. As much as it pained them to leave their culture and homeland in the hands of those bastards, they had no other choice. The lands produced nothing, the woodlands sparse, and their supplies pilfered by roaming soldiers. Claire felt guilty for the small amount of gold tucked into her dresses, but she told herself the amount she was left with couldn’t save them all. They stayed in constant communication with Jenny through letters and informed her of their impending move. Jenny wrote back to her cousins,  Alexander and Elizabeth Malcolm , just as often, if not more eager to know they were safe. 

 In the blistering heat of the summer, Claire, Jamie, and Fergus travelled in the safety of the band of MacKenzies. Virtually no redcoats bothered them on their way, patriot to king and country as the Laird most certainly was in their eyes. 

 At Ullapool, they said their last goodbyes as they split to different destinations. Jamie couldn’t possibly survive a month-long journey across the water. They purchased passage on the  Serendipity  and waited. 

 Jamie wretched off the side of the gangway as the ship made port. Stornoway, and from there they would hopefully find somewhere to settle down. A croft, north of Stornoway soon came to their attention. Most of their money went to purchase the land outright, they weren't too keen to rent one out as other crofters did, knowing the clearances would hit Scotland hard. So, Alexander Malcolm, his wife, and his son, began to build a home out of the small abandoned cottage. They hoped it would be temporary but would be fine if it wasn’t, for they had all they needed already: each other.

#jamie fraser #jamie x claire #craigh na dun #outlander fanfiction #fergus fraser #hamish mackenzie #castle leoch #stornoway #ullapool #adsofraser writing #canon divergence #jenny murray #ian murray #claire beauchamp #outlander fanfic

[queenetoilewrites]

Survival Guide For Ladies/Maids in Waiting

So you're a noblewoman at the imperial/royal court, when you and your family receive word that you've been selected to become a lady/maid-in-waiting for the Empress/Queen/Princess by the Emperor/Empress. Problem is, you have an idea of what the job entails, but no idea how to survive and hang on to your position at court. According to @inky-duchess​ (thanks for the help!), the key is to remember the acronym LOCS: Loyalty, Obedience, Comportment, and Secrecy. Be loyal to your mistress, know how to follow orders and directions (she says jump and you ask "How high, your majesty/highness?"), know how to behave, and always keep your mistress' confidence. Follow these basics of being a lady in waiting and your female character will quickly become a favorite of her mistress and hold her position for a long time.

Know your place: There’s a pecking order for a reason

Even among the ladies/maids in waiting, there’s an established hierarchy that you're required to follow without question, this hierarchy governs who gives orders to who and who has permanent access to the empress/queen. The textbook ambitious lady will use it as an excuse to kick up a major fuss about precedence when she feels that her treasured position as the favorite is being threatened by a newcomer. For example, the hierarchy for the ladies/maids-in-waiting tasked with serving the Queen of France/Empress of the French goes:

Mistress of the Robes

First lady of honor

Dame d'atour

Dame d'honneur/Dame du Palais

Filles d'honneur/Demoiselles d'honneur (maids of honor)

Première femme de Chambre ('First Chamber Maid')

While the mistress of the robes was the highest ranking in the hierarchy of the ladies serving the Queen, the first chamber maid was the only woman in the queen’s household aside from the maid of honor allowed to have the keys to the queen’s rooms and permanent access to the queen. This gave her the opportunity to filter requests of meetings, audiences and messages to the queen and made her a de facto powerful person at court, where she was often flattered and bribed by the courtiers. Any lady or maid-in-waiting worth her salt will know that she has to be clever and useful to her mistress in order to get far at the imperial/royal court, and willing to know when to concede to those above her in the pecking order. Many court ladies in my WIP have received the honor of being promoted to where she directly served the Empress Consort because she either proved herself to be clever or demonstrated loyalty to the imperial family.

Loyalty: Don't be like Littlefinger

A lady/maid must always be loyal to her mistress, otherwise she could experience a major fall from grace, even more so if her mistress the empress/queen/princess is on the exact same page as her husband the emperor/king/prince and she's not his mistress. That means absolutely no following orders from anyone outside of the imperial/royal household, she was hired to serve the empress/queen/princess only. Without royal favor you are just as expendable as anyone else in the service of the imperial/royal family, they can easily replace you with a new favorite if they discover that you've been disloyal, and if you don't like that and have the audacity to try and read the empress/queen/princess then there's being reassigned to lower in the hierarchy under the excuse that you're still technically serving the empress/queen/princess. Loyalty can earn you honors, jewelry, or an advantageous marriage. Being disloyal could earn you being distanced from the inner circle of the empress/queen/princess. Good examples of ladies/maids in waiting (and good inspirations for a loyal lady-in-waiting character) who were loyal ride or dies to their mistress include Catherine Champernowne of Kat (Kat Ashley; lady in waiting to Queen Elizabeth I), Jane Dormer, Duchess of Feria (lady in waiting to Queen Mary I), and Maria de Salinas, Countess Willoughby (lady in waiting to Catherine of Aragon).

Obedience: No, that wasn't a request

A lady/maid is required to obey her mistress regardless of what her mistress asks of her, even if her orders are ridiculous or dangerous, her maid/lady could be asked to jump and her response is required to be: "How high, your majesty/highness?" Your character does what her mistress asks, when her mistress asks it of her. No back talk, and no refusing, otherwise she'll fall from favor. She speaks when her mistress tells her to speak, and she doesn't speak out of turn. Once again unless she's the mistress to the emperor/king, has an influential family that her mistress' husband the emperor/king doesn't want to alienate, or she can't be banished from her mistress' inner circle for a reason (such as the husband of her mistress using her as leverage against her family because he suspects them of plotting treason), she's just a mere lady/maid who can easily be replaced with a new favorite who will obey her orders without any questions.

But sometimes obedience can lead her to the execution block. If her mistress is sneaking a lover into her bed, and she had a hand in getting the lover there to begin with, she had better pray that her mistress or her lover don't implicate her as thanks for her help because saying "The queen (or empress) was the one who commanded me to help her sneak him in and I couldn't deny her request!" doesn't absolve her of her integral part in helping her mistress cheat on the emperor/king and potentially muddying the royal bloodline since people are going to doubt that the king's kids are truly his if his wife had an affair. If her mistress wanted to make her and her fellow ladies into spies whom she slips into the beds of her enemies to gain intel like Catherine de' Medici did with the Flying Squadron, guess what she’s doing?

Comportment: Mind your Ps and Qs at all times

A lady/maid has to know how to behave herself both in public and in private with her mistress. She can be friendly with the royal she's serving, but she can't hang off her or call her mistress names then claim that she was "just joking" when her mistress takes offense to her behavior, being friendly is okay until you cross the line. The Empress/Queen must be respected even by her best friends, especially if they are in public. Think of it as like being friends with the wife of your boss, you can be playful with her, but up to a certain point. While the lady might be a subject to the monarch or his mistress, her mistress is his legal wife and the crowned Empress/Queen (especially if her husband is the type of man to reproach his mistress for flagrantly disrespecting his wife and her position), you have to play nice with her in order to retain the favor of the Emperor/King. Now if the Empress/Queen is a monarch in her own right, this complicates the matter because she’s not just disrespecting her mistress, she’s basically disrespecting the monarch of another country.

Do not let her behave like Sarah Churchill did to Queen Anne (your husband writing in a letter to you that the Queen “should make good political use” of his victory in battle isn’t a good excuse). A lady/maid is not allowed to verbally abuse her mistress or tell her to shut up about jewels and unlike Sarah, she would (and should) know better. Anyone else would have dropped her from her inner circle on the spot the very first time she verbally abused her. She can argue with her mistress, but only to a certain point. It should never, ever elevate to a shouting match for any reason, especially if the empress/queen is ruling in her own right. Any empress/queen who is ruling in her own right can ultimately spell the end of your social and political advancement, seeing as her favor depends solely on the Empress/Queen.

Secrecy: Don't spill the tea sis!

A lady/maid will be expected to keep secrets for her mistress, no matter what the secret is, even if she doesn't approve of it. The empress/queen has just found out that she's pregnant with a son and wants to keep it a secret so her husband's mistress can't sabotage the pregnancy since the son of the crowned empress/queen will be the heir regardless of if his mistress has a son? Is she planning to switch her seven children to the school that traditionally educates the Imperial/royal family because the former best friends of her eldest daughter have all turned on her and the girl behind it all tried and failed to get her expelled? Has she confided to you that she's worried that if the prime minister finds out about her plan, he might intervene in his capacity as friend to the monarch and convince her husband that it wouldn't be in the best interest of the crown prince and his siblings to abruptly transfer them out halfway through the school year over one child having problems with her friends? She had better keep that secret, otherwise the empress/queen can and will hold you personally responsible for the loss of her son and the long-awaited heir to the throne or if the prime minister does intervene with her husband. This involves anything like leaking letters alluding to a love affair (looking @ you, Sarah Churchill; you’re lucky you weren’t around for Henry VIII) between her and her mistress or anyone else.

The trust of your empress/queen is like a mirror, once you crack it you can put it back together with but her trust in you won’t be the same and she will begin to confide in another lady/maid about her personal matters, seeing as her former confidant has already proven that she cannot be trusted. Her loose lips make her a massive liability to the monarch and the state and any emperor/empress/king/queen who is worth their salt will recognize this and put her in a position where she is virtually useless to those seeking intel on the monarch from the get go.

He's not worth it: Don't bang her husband if she's calling the shots

Listen to what I'm about to say very closely: It doesn't matter how hot the prince consort is, or how nice he is to her, not one bit. If he takes her as his mistress and parades her around openly, the reigning empress/queen will not be very amused with her, and will definitely make sure she doesn't progress socially or in regards to precedence. He may lavish her with money and gifts, but he can't do much aside from that without openly insulting his wife. Yes, he's allowed to see her as the apple of his eye, but she's still banging the husband of her monarch. Everyone at court will ostracize her for disrespecting the monarch, even more so if she's being a pain in the ass for the imperial/royal court and kicking up a fuss about precedence and favoritism. Her lofty position as mistress/favorite to the prince consort only lasts as long as he's consort to the monarch. Once one of his children succeed their mother as monarch, they have no real reason to extend their father the money to keep his mistress once they hold the purse strings, unless they stand to gain something from it.

It's even worse for the lady/maid if her mistress is the reigning monarch in her own right and he's her consort, seeing as if her husband is only her consort, she can only get so far on his favor alone since his wife is the monarch. She's the ruler of the country, and he's nothing at court without being married to her. If she's the mistress/side piece to the prince consort, she'll be openly ostracized by everyone at court save for the prince consort seeing as she's being a pain in the ass and openly disrespecting her monarch/mistress by hopping into bed with her husband. The more powerful people at court (who are favored by the empress/queen herself) will not hesitate to throw shade at her family seeing as the prince consort can’t really come to their defense on account of the fact that doing so would be an open/major insult to his wife.

#ladies in waiting #writing tips #writing advice #writing help #writing reference #writing resources

[ladyartemesia]

▨ FIC • PREVIEW ▨

The Mark of Yun-Ki

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Hybrid AU  • Royalty AU • Fantasy AU • Daechwita AU

Summary: For a thousand years the tiger god Yun-Ki has marked the heirs of the Min Empire and thus only a marked heir can inherit the throne. When the beautiful daughter of the Min Emperor’s loyal warlord rescues a mysterious tiger hybrid from the imperial prison, she unleashes a secret that the throne would kill to protect. The young emperor claims to be the chosen heir... but who really bears the Mark of Yun-Ki?

Word Count: (preview) 2280 (final word count approx. 7K)

Rating and Warnings: Preview is rated M(ature) but final fic will be E(xplicit) for heat sex among other thing. Warnings for the preview include sexual innuendo and mature themes.

Author’s Note: One of the reasons I wrote this was in response to a prompt given to me by @mindays​ like MONTHS ago (I have included the original prompt at the bottom of the preview) • I really hope you like it! Sorry I took so long.

“Why is he blindfolded?”

The guard beside you shifted uncomfortably. 

“The Emperor ordered that his eyes be covered at all times.”

Your gaze traveled covertly over your surroundings, assessing the dimly lit chamber with practiced disdain. 

“Leave us.” 

“My lady, I cannot-”

“Do you know who I am, soldier?”

Your voice slashed through the air like an icy whip. 

“Y-yes, my la-”

“Then you know it is unwise to displease my family.” One jeweled hand came to rest dramatically on your chest. “Your daughter is not yet 15...such a pity to orphan one so young.”

The soldier bowed almost too quickly. 

“I will be outside, my lady-” he bowed again and again as he backed toward the door, “I meant no disrespect-”

Then you were alone… save for the notorious prisoner bound and blindfolded in the cell before you. 

He was clearly aware of your presence, but made no move or sound of acknowledgement, not even when your footsteps brought you to the very edge of his enclosure. 

“Prisoner AG-D2... name unknown... crime unknown...” your hand travelled up to your hair to withdraw a long silver pin, “no date of birth, no date of arrest...”

The prisoner jerked suddenly when the sound of your pin tripping the cell’s iron lock reached his unnaturally sensitive ears. 

His nostrils flared as an almost familiar scent - buried beneath a decade of fury and fear - curled through him. 

“Who are you?” 

The words were more of a growl than a question, but the only answer he received was the sound of his cell door creaking open. 

“Why are you here?” he tried again. 

“I am here to tell you a story...”

The prisoner barked out an empty laugh at your strange reply.

“I love a good story,” he whispered bitterly. The corner of your mouth twitched a bit at his spirit. 

Wrists bound together, eyes covered… but still every inch the proud warrior. His clothes were worn, but well cared for and the body beneath them was sleek and strong. This was not a man accustomed to being bound. 

“You were not raised like the rest of our people... the tales of our customs and our gods were - deliberately - never taught to you...but it is past time that you knew of them.”

He grinned, granting you a wicked flash of razor sharp fangs.

“Are all of the Emperor’s captives tortured with fairytales?”

“Charming,” you snorted, dragging a small stool from the corner of his cell. The prisoner’s ears flicked curiously at the sound.

“Aren’t you afraid of me, storyteller? What if I’ve been imprisoned for devouring beautiful women like yourself?”

You shook your head in amusement as you settled onto the stool.

“Have you devoured many beautiful women then?”

“Oh absolutely-” his grin took on a decidedly sinful slant, “but I doubt that’s why I’m here.”

A strange fluttering stirred in your chest at his words, though you did not fully understand the cause. You could not afford to waste time dwelling on such things, however.

“So... why are you here?” 

The prisoner was silent for several moments as he weighed the risk of being honest with you. 

“I don’t know,” he whispered finally, “I was told the Emperor himself ordered my arrest… but I was never told why.”

Your fingernails dug painfully into the palm of your hand, but you offered no other outward reaction to his words.

“What do you know of the current Min Emperor?”

“Not much. I’ve heard he is young... Stories say he has the temper of a demon, but his people endure it because he is the favorite of an ancient god.”

Your jaw clenched.

“That is correct. Our citizens are privileged to serve and obey the Emperor because the great tiger god, Yun-Ki has chosen the House of Min as his sacred bloodline. It is believed that the Mins are descended from Yun-Ki himself...”

“How ironic,” the prisoner scoffed, “considering that the Mins despise hybrids. They claim we are the unnatural children of the spirit realm and the earth. Surely they would be ashamed to be the product of such… blasphemy.”

Feminine laughter filled the air. It had been so long since the bound man had heard anything so beautiful. The ache it stirred in him was nearly as foreign as the sound itself. 

“Yes it does seem rather hypocritical... especially in light of the events which bring me here.”

Your scent was stronger now. It tugged at the edges of his mind in broken pictures and flashes of sunshine. He knew it...

But he could not recognize it. 

Nor could he explain the heat it began to stir in him. 

“Yun-Ki’s chosen heir bears his sacred mark .... Every child of the emperor’s seed is checked for it the moment they are born. And no concubine or wife of the emperor is ever so exalted as the one who produces a marked heir... except of course, the mother of our current emperor.”

The prisoner leaned forward, fascinated in spite of the strange circumstances.

“The dowager empress is widely revered. I may not know your fairytales, but a hybrid’s ears are better than most. My guards speak of her often.”.

You nodded

“The dowager is indeed very highly regarded… but she is not the emperor’s true mother.”

“Lady…” the prisoner shook his head irritably. “What nonsense is this? And how could it possibly affect me?”

You chuckled softly and the small hairs on the back of his arms rose up in response. 

“Patience, prisoner, the truth I offer you is worth more than both our lives.”

“The fine jewelry I hear clinking around your neck is worth more than my life, lady,” he hissed. “Speak your peace and spare me these cryptic declarations.”

It took every ounce of self-control you possess not to flick him right in his arrogant nose. 

“As you wish,” you replied with heavily affected sweetness. “The story begins with our current emperor’s father. The old emperor was a man of warfare and his spies discovered that the Prince of neighboring PyonKang planned invade our territory, he marched his armies in and occupied the small kingdom without mercy…” (you paused here significantly) “He even took the Prince’s sister as his war prize...”

The prisoner snorted. 

“Did he know what she was?” He smiled coldly. “The royals of PyongKang do not share your nation’s distaste for hybrids or the pleasures of mating with one-”

There was a sharp spike in your scent when he spoke the words; a darker - richer essence than the one he detected earlier, but this time he had no trouble identifying it. 

Arousal. 

Blood churned chaotically beneath his skin, rushing to answer your body’s unspoken request. His mind clouded suddenly and for a moment...he could almost taste you. 

This is dangerous. 

The fabric of your gown rustled as you shifted uncomfortably in your seat - driven to relieve some of the unexpected pressure in your core. 

“He did not know. The lady bore no hybrid indicators. So the emperor assumed - quite incorrectly - that she was not a hybrid.” 

“I’ve heard of such things…” he sighed, sifting through his memory till he found what he was looking for. “A physician I met in Eastern Wei discovered that some hybrids manifest internally. They retain the outer shell of a human, but their inner parts reveal the truth.” His head tilted as he recalled the old doctor’s exact words. “The face of man could hide the heart of a snake.”

You drew your lip between your teeth and nibbled it nervously. 

“You are correct. Except, in the case of the emperor’s war prize concubine, the face of a beautiful woman hid the heart of a tiger.”

The man before you scrambled to his feet in a move so sudden and unexpected, you nearly cried out. 

“You mean to tell me that the current Min Emperor is a tiger hybrid? Surely I would have heard of it. The world would have heard of it.”

You drew a deep breath - almost as if to brace yourself for the words you planned to speak.

The prisoner’s eyes were covered, but he could still make out shapes and shadows through the rough cloth. Your shadow seemed unnaturally still. When you spoke again, your tone was softer and the sound of it resonated deep within him like the bells of the old temple near his childhood home. 

“The princess of PyongKang became pregnant, and gave birth to twin boys. The younger was strong and pale, gifted with the strange golden hair so many of the Min bloodline seem to possess. But his elder brother...”

Your hands opened and closed reflexively in your lap as you worked to calm your pounding pulse. 

“... The elder brother’s hybrid heritage was quite evident.”

You moved then, stepping slowly and carefully until you stood before the prisoner face to face. Your scent swelled erotically with every step until it wrapped around him like a velvet vice. The urge to lean into it - into you - was nearly unbearable. 

“One of the twins bore the tiger god’s mark... but not the one who sits on the throne now.”

Your hand stretched slowly toward the edge of the prisoner’s blindfold. 

“The emperor executed his hybrid concubine immediately, yet even he was not bold enough to kill Yun-Ki’s chosen heir...”

Your fingers hovered a hairsbreadth from his skin. Once you touched him, everything would change. The truth you chased for eleven years would be within your grasp. 

“He sent the child to a poor family of fox hybrids who worked and lived on the estate of his most loyal warlord. The boy was never to know what he was… who he was...”

You could almost feel the moment he grasped the implication of your words. The subtle bond that always hummed strangely between you remained strong despite the years of separation. 

“The warlord had a daughter who loved to ride her horse near the lake.” Your voice trembled ever so slightly as you continued. “One day the horse was startled by a snake and it threw her into the water...”

A single tear wet his blindfold as the alluring tendrils of your scent merged chaotically with the treasured echoes in his mind. 

“Tiger hybrids hate the water,” you whispered, gently drawing the cloth up over his head, “but you dove in to save me anyways.”

Your lungs and throat burned from coughing out the water you swallowed, yet the pain was far preferable to the finality of drowning. The heavy fabric of your gown weighed you down as soon as your body crashed into the lake. 

Death reached for you, but the strange boy cradling you tightly to his chest had pulled you back before you were lost to its embrace.

“Little one, can you hear me?”

His eyes scanned frantically over your small drenched form for signs of serious injury, but you were completely distracted from your almost untimely end by the two feline ears twitching conspicuously amid the boy’s sodden curls. 

“You’re… You’re a cat!”

The boy’s jaw dropped open indignantly. 

“I’m tiger hybrid! Not a cat.” He shook his head irritably. “Have you never seen a hybrid before?”

“I’ve only heard of hybrids. I’ve never really seen one-”

Your fingers itched to touch the soft fur of his ears and you stretched forward almost absently to do so till he lashed out and snatched your wandering hand. 

“What are you doing?!” 

“Oh… I was going to...pet you?” you murmured sheepishly, prompting an irritable growl from the boy. 

“Little One, you do not pet tigers.”

He stood to his feet abruptly, dumping you into a soggy heap in the process. It took considerable effort for you to pull yourself upright while wearing 4 layers of thoroughly soaked cloth, but you eventually managed to regain your bearings and scramble after him. 

“Wait! Come back please I EEP-” 

The water dripping off your dress made the grass rather slippery… Both legs flew out from under you and, for the second time in less than a minute, you found yourself flat on your back. 

After a few moments of gazing miserably into the sky, a familiar face hovered over yours. 

“What a strange girl you are, Little One.”

You grinned.

“What is your name, tiger?”

He sighed deeply and held his hand out to pull you up. 

“I’m Yoongi.”

“Hello, Yoongi.” You tried to manage a proper bow, but only ended up losing your balance again. Yoongi grabbed your sleeve just in time to prevent you from crashing face first at his feet. 

“You’re completely hopeless,” he chuckled, endeared in spite of himself. 

Then you smiled. 

It was a fierce, blinding thing and Yoongi became aware of a subtle yet profound shift deep within the recess of his soul; something his primal half recognized immediately, but his human mind could not begin to comprehend. 

“No one’s ever said that to me before, even though I know they all think it.”

“And why is that?”

You shrugged. 

“They are probably afraid of my father.”

Yoongi’s eyebrows raised in alarm. 

“You’re the warlord’s daughter?!”

“Yes,” you replied with all the haughtiness a ten-year old could muster, “and I’m quite used to getting what I want.”

Yoongi felt a grin tug at the corner of his mouth. You were such an adorable little brat. 

“And what is it you’re wanting now, Little One?”

You nibbled your lip for a moment, suddenly shy before the handsome hybrid boy whose beautiful feline eyes danced with unconcealed mirth. 

“I want you to be my friend.”

Thirteen years later, those same golden eyes locked with yours as a strangled sob bubbled up from the back of his throat. 

“Little One?” his face lit suddenly with pure joy “...is it you?”

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I would love to know any thoughts or theories you have! Thank you for reading! This story will be published on or around 7/31!

This is the original prompt which inspired this story...

#min yoongi #bts #yoongi scenarios #min yoongi smut #hybrid yoongi #yoongi smut #hybrid fic