#but instead we got the One thing i was hoping xiv would never touch again due to how poorly theyve handled references to it

[shivasdarknight]

Time for your regularly scheduled, "Killjoy Hour with Enya" because we're being a killjoy about Dawntrail (:

So first and foremost: fuck Square and the XIV team for taking this angle. We could've gone any direction and we're going with Colonizer The Adventure. They looked at what we did on the Steppe with Hien and went "let's do it again! :D"

Mandatory CW for racism as it pertains to the indigenous peoples of North America, Mesoamerica and South America, and discussion of the genocide enacted by Spain against Mesoamerica and South America.

(Sections and the first letter of each sentence have been bolded for ease of reading)

But to explain further: Square has a really awful track record with their take on Tural, the "New World", especially in their handling of the Mamoolj'aa that are in Eorzea. This has been an issue since ARR and has been frequently criticized due to their extremely anti-indigenous writing. The way they handle the Eorzean tribes (which have been known as "beast tribes" and "beastmen" for a good part of the past decade that XIV has been around, I Should Not have to explain to you why that's deeply problematic) is an issue in its own right, but I'll only touch on what we've seen of Tural in the game itself and why this doesn't bode well for Dawntrail.

Let's get the obvious one out of the way first, this fucking shit:

For those unaware, this is the New World set. It's a craftable gear set from Heavensward that players can wear as a goddamned costume. I shouldn't have to be saying this in 2023, but this set has caused a great deal of controversy because it's a bastardization of plains tribe regalia. Square never should have added it to the game, but here it is and players constantly wear it in further offensive glams.

The only instance of this set being used with NPCs is in the Blue Mage quests and what we see of the Whalaqee. Again, to those unaware: the ARR Blue Mage quests are an extremely racist storyline that plays into white savior narratives and more offensive caricatures. The only representatives that we get to interact with of the Whalaqee are a little boy in this outfit (who's also extremely pale), and two Mamoolj'aa who are the lackeys of Martyn, the job trainer for Blue Mage - a white man! Further, the magic is notably not from Eorzea and is instead a cultural practice of the Whalaqee that Martyn took and turned into profit, and he's who you're supposed to work for. You are - yet again - considered a master of the practice, and this is written in mind with a default white man in mind considering Meteor being the stand in for everything. There is in-game appropriation of cultural practices, clothing, and tools but it gets worse the further you go into them.

The main plot of the ARR quests is that the Whalaqee are dying from a plague brought toTural by Martyn and other researchers with the Arcanist's guild 🙃 There were two trips: one to study Blue Magic, and one where people from the first trip went back because they found ceruleum in the sacred lands of the Whalaqee and began drilling for it. But remember: you only get to meet the Whalaqee through the two Mamoolj'aa and the Whalaqee child. The fate of the tribe rests in an Eorzean's hands because they put the medicine behind a bet for the further profit of Ul'dah. Win the carnival and make the owner a bunch of money and you get the medicine; lose, and they go raid the place for ceruleum and wipe out the tribe. It's a deeply offensive storyline that turns past and ongoing horrors that indigenous peoples - especially those of North America and Mesoamerica - have faced and are still facing into some trivial goal for a questline for a joke job that's solved through the white savior trope.

Then, of course, there's how the Mamoolj'aa are generally treated. Like the other ARR tribes and anyone the game doesn't consider civilized, their dialogue is written in broken speech patterns to reflect "lower intelligence." They're one of the only ARR tribes (next to the Qiqirn, who only got that somewhat through the SHB Qitari quests) that haven't gotten any kind of humanizing that the others have seen over the years (and even then, that's only been recently). Throughout ARR-HVW storylines, they're portrayed as extremely aggressive, are often throwaway mercs for hire around La Noscea, and they have them use this "cultural dance" of theirs that's described as extremely suggestive and is frequently used to sexually harass the white women of Eorzea. They're also seen in the Wanderer's Palace (Hard) as "aggressive barbarian" types who enslaved the Tonberries, which were originally the Spoken of Nym (so y'know, predominantly white society that became malformed and gangrenous tonberries). And your job as the Warrior of Light is, naturally, to exterminate them. There's other stuff like the naming of abilities they use (frequent use of barbarian/barbaric, which in it of itself is problematic), the totems and standards that you're actively encouraged to destroy, the shaman stuff + the fact that again: they're the only ARR tribe that never got the same kind of humanizing lens that tribes like the Sylphs got early on, or like the Amalj'aa got only recently.

Dawntrail looks to be as if it might be that humanizing effort that began in Stormblood and was most prominent in 5.X (ARR-SHB tribe side quests don't count as it's side content, not MSQ), but of course there comes the problem: beyond them never treating the Mamoolj'aa with any respect in the content we already have, they've already framed 7.0 as you meddling in the rite of succession for this new area. An area that is ruled by a two-headed Mamoolj'aa that we have to help overthrow (which is not new, as a two-headed Mamoolj'aa was already shown in The Wanderer's Palace (Hard) - but that one was portrayed as brutish, unintelligent, and played into inbred stuff as...the final boss of the dungeon who gets a special end dungeon cutscene to showcase the Tonberries brutalizing his corpse). And again, this plot thread isn't new! We already helped Hien do that to the Steppe back in Stormblood! This is yet another instance of the game treating imperialism and colonization as a fun thing for you to get in on, especially since they're using the setting and the getting to the setting as a summer vacation.

The fact that they are framing Dawntrail as summer vacation-like is insidious. You are a party of fantasy Europeans sailing to fantasy Mesoamerica/South America to meddle in their governing process.

And let's quickly go over that: the fact Tural is the "New World" as you search for "a city of gold."

These names are rooted heavily in European colonization. The idea that Europe is the "civilized Old World" and that the Americas were the "uncivilized, waiting-to-be-conquered New World" is what drove the colonization of the region, especially in Mesoamerica and South America. The term "New World" is inseparable from white supremacist narratives about the colonizers that engaged with the peoples of the Americas. It's bad enough that XIV introduced Tural as "the New World" to begin with and populated it with a fantasy race that's characterized by violence, a lack of intelligence, and sexual harassment + a gross caricature of North American plains nations, but they have now made it into the destination for the Scions' "summer vacation adventure"? So that you can go do an imperialism there, too? They even framed it as some tropical paradise as if that's not an extension of how colonization of these regions is perpetuated today through the tourism industry.

The other term - city of gold - was a myth that was used as the excuse to ransack Mesoamerica and South America. You've definitely seen it, as that was the entire plot of Road to El Dorado. It was under this pretense that Spanish colonizers decimated indigenous populations in the search of glory and gold. The search for the "city of gold" in the "New World" was a mass genocide - enabled through widespread massacre, and a vicious plague that wiped out 80% of just the population in Mexico alone.

In Mexico, the pestilence reached the Aztec capital, Tenochtitlan, before its fall in 1521. Pathogens also reached Peru, inciting a civil war among the Incas. Both of these situations were extremely favorable for Spain. The plague—cocoliztli—was the most devastating post-conquest epidemic in large parts of Mexico, wiping out somewhere around 80 percent of the native population.

(from "How Aztecs Reacted to Colonial Epidemics" by Richard Herzog on JSTOR)

This is not a subject to touch upon lightly in any respect. And for XIV to use it for their "fun adventure in a foreign land" is deeply inappropriate and frankly disgusting. But is anyone surprised? This is the same company that ignored the demands of the Saami council to remove the offensive Far Northern attire from the store.

What I'm disappointed the most about, however, is the number of fans chomping at the bit with angles about a tropical tourist destination, taking the summer vacation angle the devs are actively encouraging, and even stuff with pirates (do not get me started on how white pirates contributed to colonization of the Americas). As a friend put it very aptly: how do you see "new world," "city of gold," and a fleet of European ships sailing towards fantasy Mesoamerica and not get skeeved out at the prospect? This isn't something you should be excited about because they're having us role play imperialism Yet Again. But this time, it's all to the tune of "tropical summer vacation in a foreign land". And y'all are excited to join in?

I don't want the expansion to turn out this way. We barely have any information on this, I understand. But what I've laid out here is what the game has already done with regards to Tural's pre-7.0 depictions and what they've shown they want to continue perpetuating. If Dawntrail turns out to be somewhat decent (and it better be better handled than Thavnair and feature fewer white people populating the countries that are inspired by black and brown cultures), then fine. But as it stands, Square has not given us any reason to trust them in how they've handled their indigenous stories leading up to 7.0. This entire concept is rife with the potential to be extremely offensive and extremely racist, and the main takeaway most fans seem to have from this isn't that this is a gross depiction of indigenous cultures, but instead a fun summer vacation with the Scions?

Really?

#ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #dawntrail #ffxiv fanfest #fanfest 2023 #final fantasy #ff #racism #long post #original #im fucking tired #i just wanted a void expansion. maybe meracydia #but instead we got the One thing i was hoping xiv would never touch again due to how poorly theyve handled references to it #im both surprised and not that everyone is scrambling for this shit despite everything about it #like i just continue to find more ways to be disappointed with the xiv base. constantly. #like the positive reaction to this is genuinely sickening and i can't believe that /this/ is the angle they're taking going forward #like wow amazing we get ffx references mixed in there with racist bullshit thats been perpetuated since the 15th century #ngl im really dreading this and what comes out of the extremely racist parts of the fandom #like the fuckers who make ''feral tribal ocs'' in jungle areas who Definitely Do Exist #considering we've got literal fascist fuckers? yeah. i'm. very worried about the launch of this expac #especially with what's going to happen on the fandom side of things with racist new ocs

[delu-jean]

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧: 𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐔𝐩 𝐓𝐨 𝐘𝐨𝐮

(Jea x fem!/reader) -> Angst -> 4.2k 

XII > XIV

You and Reiner picked some flowers. They lay in one of the baskets you brought. They sat beautifully, making you reminisce the night Jean had given you that violet. Though these flowers were a lot larger, and the hue was more vibrant, the meaning behind that violet shone brighter than those characteristics combined. You grinned at such a thought, while Reiner kept on climbing the tree. 

You felt bad since you weren’t helping him gather the apples. Someone needed to hold the basket, making sure they didn’t touch the ground. Since the tree was becoming more barren as the years passed, the less fruit it would bear. So, you had to make sure no apples went to waste. Still, watching him do all of that hard work made you feel guilty. He reassured you (before), saying that it was better for him to actually do something right (since he trampled a lot of plants when picking flowers). So you let him be. Watching as each fruit fell. 

“It’s been a while...do you remember this place, Y/n?” 

“Of course I do…” you then gazed at the scenery in front of you. Being reminded of that one moment, that last moment you had felt such peace in Marely. The moment where Bertholdt had scurried to get you, the moment where you never thought that things would take such a turn. 

You looked at Reiner to see the guilt which struck him. Not only that, but the guilt then crept onto you. That peace was one which could never come back, along with Bertholdt himself. You felt burdened to say the least. Knowing how his best friend had died, yet not being allowed to tell him (since Jean’s cover would blow). It saddened you knowing how much weight was on his shoulders. Never knowing what had truly happened, but instead, escaping with survivor’s guilt. 

“Ah, two coming!” 

“Got it!” you caught them in your basket. Time passed as more apples stacked. He then decided to break the silence once again. 

“Do you ever wish that we could be kids again?” 

“Of course I do,” he nods in agreement. 

“If I could change one thing...just one of the many things in our childhood...it would be the fate we held in the military. Wishing things could have been different, and that you all could’ve been here,” you noticed how he didn’t say “we,” but instead said “you.” That meant he had wished you were all here, but not necessarily himself. You were going to question him, until he spoke yet again. 

“For Bertholdt to see such a sight. To see how grown the both of us have become, and...to see his family...just once more. Maybe even confess to Annie if he had the guts to,” you saw the pained expression he had which made you feel the same. 

“Bertholdt would be happy for us, especially since we’ve grown so much with the time given.” 

---

“Yeah...I guess so,” he then picked the last of the apples and came down. In the process, one of the better apples fell, cracking with the contact of the ground. Funny enough, it reminded you of Bertholdt. Since he unfortunately was one, if not, the sweetest apple. One who just had to fall far from the tree above.  

You both stepped into your house. Feeling tired as your arms limped, along with Reiner’s. You started to look around, wanting to see if Jean was at home. Lurking through the bedroom, and even checking your closet. Unfortunately (for you) he wasn’t. It’s almost as if he was gone with the wind. You felt a little bummed as Reiner stepped into the kitchen. Placing the baskets down, and washing his hands (readying himself for the session yet to come). He then asked you in a loud tone, hoping you would hear. 

“What are you doing Y/n?” 

“Oh, I’m looking for a pot!” you shouted back. 

“In your bedroom?” 

“Haha, yeah,” you were still feeling upset...but then remembered that you were the person who told him to leave (secretly regretting it qwq). 

You then walked over to Reiner, ready to help him make the pie. You both washed the apples, peeled, and chopped them. Reiner was a little klutzy with the knife, handling it like a weapon in battle. You found it quite funny, and guided his hands. Hoping he wouldn’t cut himself. To your surprise he didn’t, and ended up seasoning the fruit with different spices, sugars, and ingredients. When that was done, you put him in charge of kneading the crust. You (of course) mixed and measured the ingredients, and after doing so, told him to be gentle with the dough. Hoping his rough hands would maintain, and not ruin such a delicacy. 

You started to heat the filling as you monitored him from afar. He really was a quick learner, yet still needed to work on some of his skills. You wondered how Jean would’ve made the pie. If he would’ve added his own flare, or crust designs. Just thinking about it made you excited, hoping you both could someday. Reiner then started to roll, and place the crust. You both then finished your tasks. Thrilled with the results of your hard work. 

“Phew, thanks for your help Reiner.” 

“No problem. That was...a lot harder than I thought it would be.” 

“Mhm...oh yeah! I left some filling here for you. I tasted it and thought it wasn’t sweet enough, but I kept it that way since you know...Bertholdt preferred ‘natural’ sugars,” you smirked as Reiner tried a spoonful. 

“Haha, yup. Reminds me of Bertholdt. Also it's really tasty.” 

“That’s good! Okay, let’s put it away now,” you put both the filling, and crust away. Letting both rest separately so you could bake them tomorrow (before meeting the families). 

“I’ll pop it in the oven before leaving.” 

“Sounds good. Thanks for letting me help...or contribute at least. Sorry if I was a nuisance.” 

“Haha no, thanks for helping in general. Two pairs of hands are better than one, and you gave loads of help,” he then smiled, slipping his coat and shoes on. 

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow.” 

“No, I insist. I’ll come instead. You’ve been walking me home a LOT as of recently. Let me come get ya instead,” he seemed hesitant when you answered. Not sure as to why, you tried asking hoping you could hear his reasons. But instead he pestered you, insisting on grabbing you instead. Now you could understand Jean (in some way). Not being able to understand him directly...was making you feel frustrated. Not only that, but you weren’t able to understand why he was acting like that. 

Regardless, you eventually gave it. Though you found it suspicious, you decided to say no more. Not wanting to add tension, and instead, respecting his choice. 

“Okay fine. Get me near ten-ish?” 

---

“Alright, sounds good.” 

You got up, did your morning routine, got dressed, and had a filling meal. Each year, you and Reiner didn’t wear anything formal. Rather, you both stuck with a simple semi-formal outfit (didn’t want to be too formal, nor too casual). You never wore the same clothing, but rather, switched it up while trying to stay coordinated. This year, you decided to match in white, and beige. You wore a dress shirt, your sleeves puffed, filled with lace, two ribbons (on each side), a beige skirt which reached your legs, and a straw hat. While Reiner wore a beige cardigan, beige slacks, a dress shirt, along with a fleece vest. Though it was a semi-hot day, it was hotter than cold. So he decided to hold his cardigan for the majority of the time. He also brought a black leather watch, and a brown fedora (type of hat). You decided not to go all out since you wanted your interactions to seem civil. Nothing up top to make the families feel comfortable. 

You first went to the Galliard’s. Porco was home and didn’t seem happy with Reiner being there. Though there was some awkward tension, Reiner did his best to ignore any dirty glances. Trying to remember this visit wasn’t about Porco, but instead, Marcel. 

“You know, Marcel was a boy with less aspirations for himself, but instead for the people around him,” Mr. Galliard stated. 

Last night, Jean didn’t make his way back. You were a tad sad. Not being able to sleep with him there...felt unnatural. You really didn’t feel at ease in your own home. Constantly wondering where he was, if he was okay, or if he really had business. You honestly weren’t sure, but regardless, tried sleeping since today was important. 

“I never saw my son as a child, rather, the embodiment of an adult. One with the thoughts, and responsibility of a grown man. I felt, and still do feel guilty though...he never got the chance to be one. To experience the childhood he should have.” 

“Mhm,” you nodded after he said that. 

“I truly regret not making him live the life of a child, and it pains me that he was instead forced to be an adult,” his wife then put a hand on her husband’s. Giving him a stare out of grief, yet relief as she then eyed the both of you. 

“If my son had seen where you both are, he would be proud. He would be amazed with the work you both put in, and know that we are as well. We’ve seen the work Reiner puts in with Porco, doing his best to serve Marley with their titans. Along with you, Y/n. As you encourage and guide the Eldians to be the best they can. Both in the battlefield, and themselves personally. We truly are indebted, and hope you two will continue in the work you do for as long as possible.” 

“Ah I see, I’m glad our efforts have paid off. I have to agree though, Marcel truly was a great person-” 

“Tch,” Porco snarled as his mother then elbowed him. Reiner then continued to talk. Telling the three about the gift chosen, how you both thought it would suit Marcel, and who he was. Not just a comrade, but a dear friend as well. The pendant shone beautifully, and had a glint just like Marcel’s. The framing around the jewel caved around like it was a crown. Smooth, and precise edges, along with a clean finishing. The back also had an engraving of his name, along with leather straps which could detach. Framed in the box it came with and accompanied by two letters. 

“You can read them whenever you would like. Although, I do recommend doing so when alone,” you told them, and then made your way to the door. Porco decided to escort you out. Though both you, and Reiner expected a cold gesture, he instead gave you an unexpected one. 

“Thanks...for the gift. It means a lot.” 

---

“Yes of course, no need to thank us,” Reiner responded for the door to then shut. 

You both went to Annie’s house, hoping her father would be home. To your dismay...he wasn’t there...like always (on that day specifically). You tried knocking the door yet again, but to your “shock,” there’s no response. You see...on this day specifically, he refused to see either of you. He knew that your gestures were filled with good intent, but just...couldn’t bring himself to do it. He would always see you both whenever else, knowing that the topic wouldn’t arise. 

“Let’s get going...Mrs. Hoover is expecting us.” 

---

“Got it...Y/n.” 

Still, it saddened you to say the least. The poor man was so hurt, and he couldn’t bring up the topic. Though you wanted to console him, even with the time given, it seemed like it wasn’t going to happen. You placed the box on his doorstep, leaving a note telling him of the gift, and why you chose it. Hoping he would keep it with him, and store it safely. 

“Ah Y/n, Reiner! I haven’t seen you both in a while! Come, come inside!” Bertholdt’s mother said, for the both of you to enter their house. Pulling out chairs while her husband did the same. His father then started to brew tea, while the three of you (Reiner, you, and Mrs. Hoover) sat down. 

“How have you been?” 

“And I as well,” Mr. Hoover then placed the tea. The two lovers smiled at each other, and then sat beside one another. You were glad they weren’t in tears, nor upset. His parents (surprisingly) seemed to have taken his death unexpectedly. Not as something light hearted, nor sympathetic, but rather...very “well” in your opinion. They mourned when you had returned with no trail of Bertholdt, but got themselves together. Making good of his passing instead of sulking. 

Reiner then pulled out the basket of apples, handing it to them. While you showed the bouquet full of flowers. You also held the pie in your hands while his mother went to grab a vase. 

“It looks lovely Y/n, I’m assuming you used the apples?”

“Oh, I’ve been well,” you responded. 

“Yes ma'am. Bertholdt’s favourite.”

“Speaking of my dear son, my one and only child… Oh how he loved such delicacies. I wish I made him more when he was with us. Not only that, but he was one himself, and I wished we would’ve handled him with more care. Being more fragile with such a thing….” 

You see, his parents were really invested into the whole “Honorary Marleyin,” and “warrior candidate” events. They just wanted their son to exceed, and to know that he could go above and beyond. But in said process, instead of doing that...it gave the opposite effect. Making him feel less if anything. He knew they loved him, but their encouragement...seemed more discouraging to Bertholdt if anything. Disregarding his feelings, and thoughts to the opposition, convincing him that he was strong enough and could do it. 

Never considering his doubts, nor fears. Instead, brushing them off and telling him he could excel. There was no comfort whatsoever, instead, expectations and tension which were burdened to him...and him alone. 

“That was probably why he was so timid...because of how we treated him…. I truly do regret such a thing, but I was relieved to hear how he was a great and loving person to the both of you. Even if we didn’t get what “we wanted” from him, he received the things that he wanted for himself. Pushing himself to his limits, and persevering...without us.” 

“Yes, he truly was an amazing person. The closest friend I’ve ever had,” Reiner said with a sincere tone. The father then stepped in, saying: 

“Bertholdt would’ve loved to see how you both had grown to be so mature, understanding, and great in general.” 

“Since he loved you both so dearly, he also would’ve been glad at the decision you two are making, about becoming one. Also, congratulations on that. I hope you both have the happiest of times while you can. Though, I won’t lie, I wished Y/n were the one to marry Bertholdt (she said jokingly). But even so, I’m happy for both of you. Reiner, you’ve got yourself one lucky lady, and Y/n, you a lucky man.” 

“Yeah...I guess so,” Reiner responded. 

---

You then thought to yourself. Would Bertholdt actually be content with the engagement? Though his mother had thought “yes,” you had thought “no.” He probably would’ve opposed, saying that the marriage would’ve been pointless, and unsettling. That being the case, his opinion gave you yet another reason for your opposition. 

You both were done for the day, and were relieved for that. You were glad that two out of the three were there, liked the gifts given, and that you were able to show respect towards your comrades. So being that, you both were now walking. Yes, your destination would be home, but you weren’t sure as to what detours would be made. Both you and Reiner actually. One thing you were sure about, was that the man beside you seemed frustrated. Even though he should've relaxed since your tasks had just finished. 

“Y/n, I don’t want to assume...but…were you the person who might’ve leaked things?” 

“Oh...no. It wouldn’t make sense for me to, in all honesty…” 

But then at the same time, she might’ve assumed so because of how long you were taking. Thinking you must’ve made a decision (by now) and just didn’t want to be vocal about it. Of course, that wasn’t the case and you made it clear to Reiner. He then decided to switch up the conversation, trying to avert from the unwanted thought. 

“I forgot to ask, but were you able to get home safely that night?” 

“Oh, yeah.” 

“That means...oh gosh,” that’s when you both realized that the only person who could’ve, and would’ve done so...was his mother. You also remembered what Alexandra said, about his mother being ecstatic about the engagement. That point secured your thoughts. She was probably very excited, and had no malicious intent involved. She just wanted the best for her son, and you as well (thinking Reiner was the best for you). Regardless, it kind of annoyed you. Especially since you hadn’t made the decision, and she inferred you had instead of asking/confirming. 

“That’s good.”

“And you?” 

“Yeah, I did. I walked Gabi home first, then made my way.” 

“Ahh I see,” yout both walked further for him to ask:

“Where were you the morning after? I thought you’d be at HQ, like you always are.” 

“Ah well…” you couldn’t tell him about Jean, so instead, told him about Alexandra. 

“Well, a friend of mine came over. We caught up and….” you couldn’t say that you were talking about him (his looks to be more specific), so instead, brought up the first few things which came to mind. 

“She um, congratulated me.”

“Oh really?” he seemed glad and you went on. 

“Not only that, but that most of the town knows…and that your mother seems ecstatic.”

“Oh no…” You then saw a burdensome look on his face. 

“Haha yeah. She also asked if I had a wedding dress, or ring. Which I found kind of funny-” He immediately cut in. 

“So what was your response?” 

“That I have neither.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Hm?...the real question is, what do you mean Reiner?” you then stared at the gentleman, awaiting for his answer. 

“Oh...it’s just that...you do have one.” 

“What?..” 

“Not a dress of course, but a ring.” 

He then Proceeded to tell you that he did have one ready. He felt guilty knowing that you had told her “no.” He thought that maybe you had felt bad, being that your answer was “no,” even though he did have one prepared. After all, ladies did take marriage as a big deal. And even though it was one out of friendship, he didn’t want to make you feel left out. Being considerate of such a big event. 

Though you could’ve (and most likely would’ve) married someone after Reiner, it still was your first wedding. And your first anything should always be taken seriously. 

“If I knew you were going to be bombarded with the other ladies bothering you...I would’ve given it sooner,” he fished a box out of his pocket, and handed it to you. 

You then opened it to see a fairly modest design. It was a simple gold band. One with a centered jewel in an oval shape. There were also two other smaller stones which accompanied the ring, and the band sat in a black, velvet box. It was a very beautiful ring, and Reiner could tell you liked it (based on how you sat in awe). He was glad he got such a ring, knowing how simple you could be, and that it seemed to suit your personality. 

“I’m sorry for not being able to get you better, but I hope that it’ll be enough for you to show other ladies. And hopefully...you don’t feel the need to humble yourself when with others,” you could feel the sincerity coming from him, and were thankful. But...you ultimately just...couldn’t accept such a gesture. 

“I’m sorry Reiner...but I can’t accept this.” 

“Oh, why is that?” 

“I just...can’t,” he then took the hint, and instead asked: 

“Is it because you aren’t sure yet?” you then nodded, not giving him anymore context. He also did the same. Nodding and letting you be. 

“But I insist...you should keep it.”

“Oh, really? And why is that?” 

“Well haha, my mother will pester me less. But of course, only if you want. If not, I can take it back. I understand your decisions, and will respect them for when you’re ready.” 

---

“You know what...sure, why not,” you didn’t want to be rude, and you also wanted to be less of a burden.

 After receiving the box, Reiner does what he thinks is best. He shields you from others on your walk through town. Although they found his gestures quite adorable, he thought the opposite, but was glad there was no attention regarding the ring. Covering the box made you tense less, and his efforts were greatly appreciated. He understood the townspeople's intentions, but didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable.  

“Hey reiner...when it comes to deciding, how much time do you think I have?” 

“According to what my mother said...maybe a couple months. That is...if you want to have a um...child of course. If not, really whenever. As long as I don’t die,” he chuckled and you nod, laughing yourself. 

“I see, well...I’ll be sure to relay my decision whenever.” 

You took notice of how tired Reiner was. His eyes drowsy, posture limp, and in general, was very out of energy. You decided to halt, stopping in front of him. Making his pace lessen as you stood still. 

“Why do you look so tired? I know it’s not because of any drills,” you laughed as he looked to the side. 

“Don’t worry too much about it...it’s nothing.” 

“Yeah, of course.”

“Come on Reiner...tell me! I feel like I play a part in it…. I’m not sure as to what, but yeah,” he then looked back at you. Though he contemplated his thoughts, he decided to be honest. 

“Okay fine. As of recently, I've been pushed around by my mother, a couple elders, along with the civilians, and troops in general. Meeting whenever my mother arranged things, taking the time to accept gifts, being congratulated, and having conversations even when I don’t have the time. Though it should be fun, it’s really not. Especially when the warriors are on my ass for being late, and then I show up to meetings with a bunch of gifts. At first they were okay with everything, but as time progressed, they were uh...pissed with my appearances.” 

You felt bad. Your delay was really taking a toll on Reiner, yet you felt like you couldn’t give him your answer. The pressure was immense, you would be letting people down, and the Braun’s would be in an awkward (gossip-ish) position after your rejection. But then again, you didn’t want to marry him anymore. You had Jean now, plus, Reiner was only doing his best  since he wanted to make things right. Being your friend, trying to help build a future that might satisfy you when he’s gone. Imagining you living alone without benefits he could’ve provided, made him feel guilty. He already put you through so much, and although this wasn’t a huge step to redemption, it was one skid closer. 

But honestly, you cared less (for the marriage, not his efforts). If you said no, the entire thing would be off his plate. Yet...you felt bad seeing how much effort he put in. You saying no would mean all of that effort being drawn to waste. You then decided to ask him what he would do with both responses. Towards both rejection, and the acceptance of his proposal. 

“Reiner...what would you do if I said yes?” 

“To my proposal?”

“Mhm.”

“Well I would marry you,” he smirked at such an obvious question. Not making fun of you, rather, just pointing out the obvious. 

“Oh...yeah haha. Anything else though?” 

“Maybe have a child...I mean of course, like I said...it’s up to you” seemed embarrassed to bring up the subject, which made you laugh. 

“Okay...then what would you do if I said no?” 

“Honestly I’m not sure, but, if that’s what will make you happy, so be it. If you want to love someone else, I won't stop you. If you want to love yourself, and you alone, I will support you. No matter what you do...I just want to be a good friend is all. Make up for all I’ve done.” 

Just through that, you saw how serious Reiner was when taking this path to redemption. Though, not in the way you would have both envisioned, he was truly trying his best. Being a good friend, and doing his best to get you what, and where you needed to go. You were very touched by his sincerity, and words in general. Reiner was truly a great friend. Though questionable at times, and it would take time for you to wholeheartedly trust him, he was getting there. And would probably at one point. 

“Thanks Reiner.” 

“No need to. I’m content either way, so it’s really up to you.” 

XII > XIV

#jean #jean x you #jean x reader #jean x y/n #aot x y/n #jean kirschstein #jean x female reader #attack on titan #aot #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirstein #jean aot #aot jean #attack on titan x you #attack one titan x reader #aot x reader #aot fanfiction #aot season 4 #aot fluff #aot angst #jean angst #one of them #chapter thirteen

[thevoilinauttheory]

The Great Eight

[ In lieu of the Rising event ending tomorrow - and myself, just now finishing it - I had some words I wanted to get out.

I get this type of nostalgia - it hurts, it physically hurts my chest; I feel sick to my stomach, and I just want to cry. I’ve asked others if they ever feel this way, but I’ve never gotten a yes to it.

The Rising always gives me this feeling. It’s be eight years since I first picked up XIV. Eight whole years. That’s a slap to the face, it’s been so long and it feels so short. I wish I could give people the same experiences and feeling I had for this game - the pain and happiness this nostalgia brings me. When I say this game means so much to me, it’s not an exaggeration. This game changed my life - I wish to share it a little bit with you. I touched on some of it in the past, but here I’m laying it all out. ]

[ I first started playing in 2013, when a friend recommended the game to me shortly after the game’s rerelease. They were ecstatic to have another player join them, and I owe them a lot for the experiences they gave me. My very first character was Raramlah Ramlah - she was a paladin, because that’s what I mained in WoW. I realized shortly that a tank probably wasn’t the best way to go, but also that my computer at the time couldn’t handle playing it, due to the graphics.

I gave it another shot in 2014, that’s when I made Danny Harold. He was the first character I ever got to level 50. I absolutely loved the game, when I wasn’t sitting idly for my friends to come online as I had with Raramlah; when I picked it up of my own accord. I remember I was in the hospital when I first picked it back up, when I first made him and leveled him through Gridania. But I was still going intermittedly between it and WoW. I missed the first Rising due to ignorance.

2015 comes around, and I’m in a stressful place. I just started a new job, and I’m finally able to live on my own with little issues from my disabilites. However, my apartment complex didn’t have internet, and so I’d take my laptop to Starbucks and sit there until they closed playing WoW instead. I wanted to spend what little time I had on the internet with the friends I already had grown close to.  Year 2 went on without me. But it still wasn’t all bad. Near the end of 2015, Maximiloix Voilinaut was created - and when I started up my XIV tumblr account under “ishgardianscholar”. See, I had made it to Heavensward on Danny when I found out that someone I had met through a friend was starting up a new character for the purpose of RP. I thought to myself “I want an Ishgardian character” - and rolled a new one. It was a new adventure, a clean slate, with a couple of friends I knew from WoW to join me.

Here comes 2016... and WoW had let me down. My disabilites came back full force, and I was left bed bound and reliant on partial disability from my workplace while waiting for SSDI to start kicking into effect. My roommates did little to help take care of the house we were renting, lied to me about their incomes, and forced me to use what little money I was getting to pay for everything myself. I’m short a total of 2000$ because of it. But. But. That was the best year of my fucking life. It ruined me, that year ruined my life, but it was the happiest I had ever been. Lothaire Voilinaut was first conceived and Maximiloix became my pride and joy as a character, I found the class I wanted to keep playing - I made friends, so many of them! So, so many of them! And I loved them, and I still do! I miss them terribly. If I could relive one year of my life... it would be that year. What I would give just to feel that way again - because I had never felt it since. I didn’t realize until Year 3′s Rising came around, how nostalgic just the few short times and experiences were to me. Because I was met with two things... the first song that truly captured me in Final Fantasy games (Prelude), and the first song I ever heard in the game itself (A New Hope). I cried there. Music has always hit me so hard, and I never realized just how much this game meant to me until then. This was how I knew I would stay - that XIV had my heart for good.

2017, during the release of Stormblood, I went homeless. I had wanted so badly to see my first expansion release - and only witnessed second hand “Raubahn EX”. My friends moved on without me, and I was left alone again to start playing. But I told myself already. XIV had my heart, there was no reason to go back to WoW. So I didn’t. I didn’t, and I don’t regret it. This is when I truly started playing Lothaire fully - and when I met my spouse, he became my main. I made it to Year 4, and cried just as much.

2018 - with the loss of friends, did I find new ones. It wasn’t the best time of my life, but I wouldn’t trade the memories for a thing. Year 5 came and went faster than I could blink, but that was it. I heard the music, I remembered my first Rising, I remembered all the times I had before. And I cried.

2019 started off rough. I moved across the country and had a hard time finding a place to live. I got it down, started a new job... and made it to the release of Shadowbringers. I had grown so much since I first started - and the expansion release was everything I wanted it to be, regardless of the issues that came with it (though I’ve been told that it was a far smoother release than the others). I was so excited... and I was not let down. XIV upheld its standards and presented to me a game worthy of pushing onto my friends no matter how annoyed they got with me about it (looking at you @rose-color-boy). Everything about it was a pure masterpiece, people think I’m exaggerating. But this game had done so much for me, that finally, now, I got to witness something I always wanted to. Sure, I didn’t have many friends to start the expansion with... but the story captivated me immediately. Year 6... and I cried.

2020. There wasn’t much to say about it, I was stuck inside all year and I hit a bad patch during the end of it, but... Year 7. It hit me like a truck. It gave me goosebumps, it gave me laughs, and ultimately, it gave me tears. I actually sobbed, this time. Remembering everything I gone through hurt me so badly, the nostalgia was coming in hard. But I knew, in the end, this game would always be here for me. This game had wormed its way into my heart accidentally, and yet I feel like I couldn’t live without it.

This year. Perhaps it didn’t hit me as hard - I still cried. This game means so much to me. So, so much. It hurts, it really and physically hurts how much it means to me. This game made everything in my stressful life so much easier, littered the pain with good memories. I can recall bad places I was in, and associate it with something good that happened to me in the game. 2020 - I got knee surgery... but 5.3 had just released and holy shit. My spouse got a little annoyed at me that the only thing I was listening to was the theme of that last battle (To the Edge). It helped me get through it, the pain and the misery I felt from not being able to walk. 2019 - Work was driving my depression in deep, and I didn’t want to live and continue the pain I was feeling... but I got to the end of 5.0 and only wanted more. I wanted to know what happened next. I still remember that one cutscene, how they got me attached to a minor character so quickly and ripped her away just as fast; and the first dungeon? Experiencing the Trust System, and going through this intense battle on a grand scale with the help of the friends they kept on the sidelines for so long. 2018 - My life was monotonous and I had three other people living with me in my one-bedroom apartment. One of my roommate’s ex’s was now stalking him around my apartment, and work was becoming physically taxing on my legs. But I remember how much fun I had doing maps - and the release of the Tsukuyomi fight? That whole scene there? Oh, wow, it was so bittersweet. The fight was beautiful, the music was haunting, everything about it. Not to mention the ending solo-instances and Ghymlit? The Burn? Omega? The Four Lords? As much as I disliked them (due to my computer issues), even Rabanastre was memorable. 2017 - I was homeless, forced to work a job my body couldn’t handle. I met my spouse, though. I became heavily invested with my tumblr account, doing a full re-write of it all. While I wasn’t much of a fan of the expansion itself, there were some places that really opened my eyes. Azim Steppes? So beautiful - and gotta hand Y’shtola the award for sickest burn. Then I heard my favorite piece of music, and the most nostalgic for me when it comes to SB, Skalla’s theme (Far From Home). 

Lastly, I know this has been long. But I thank everyone around me for being so supportive and kind - I may not be in a good place, but know that every good thing that happens will be associated to this moment. I’ll look back on Year 8 and go “my security was compromised, and my anxiety ran high, but there were these people here who supported me on tumblr, that kept my blog running strong”. I will remember my roleplays, I will remember the music and scenery - even now, I’m getting nostalgic about Shadowbringers, and Endwalker hasn’t even come out yet! So thank you. Here’s to year number 8 - 8 whole years of XIV being in my life. It may not have been that long for many of you, some of you, this might be your first year; hell! Some of you, it’s been longer! But know that this community has helped me so much, and I can’t wait to continue being a part of it. Here’s to the eventual tears Year 9 will bring me! ]

#ooc #ffxiv #the rising #sorry for the long post #but there were so many feelings i had to get out before i wrote my prompt #tl;dr #i love you all and thank you for making my experiences with this game the best thing to ever happen to me #thank you for making this game mean so much to me

[jeremy-ken-anderson]

Design Theory: FFXV

For a class I’m taking, I’ve been asked to perform a thought experiment. At first I did this with XIV, but once we got into the “make improvements” section I decided I’d have an easier and also more satisfying time pondering a game that isn’t quite so critically acclaimed.

And I decided I’d rather blog it out than write it on notepad paper.

So. FFXV. One Final Fantasy With the Lads.

The MDA Framework - Mechanics, Dynamics, Affect (Aesthetics is the original A here, but for a game dev class we’re broadening it to include more things that evoke emotional responses) - translates into Mechanics being the rules, Dynamics being the play experience itself, and hopefully the play experience then produces an Affect of “fun.”

An example I’ve touched on before, where Mechanics produce Affect by way of Dynamics: In FFXV they have a very clean sense of being Injured. If you get down to 0 hp, your recoverable hp starts bleeding out. Get first aid or a potion and you stop bleeding out and recover some. But your “current max hp” remains lower than your true max hp. If you’re down to 1 hp and not injured and you get out of combat, you’ll be back at full hp in 10 or 20 seconds. If your “current max hp” gets down to half, you’re in a bad spot and it’ll take multiple minutes (current max hp recovers by 1 every 3-4 seconds, orders of magnitude slower than your normal health regen outside of battle). This mechanic produces a dynamic where during gameplay the player is heavily pressured to fight only when strong and run when weak. After all, you only die if current max hp hits 0, and getting to the state where you’re bleeding out is the full length of your health bar if you’re uninjured but could be much lower if you’ve already just barely survived a few fights. Emotionally this makes situations where you really can feel how much smaller the four of you are than the enemy army, especially when you get in a nasty cycle of them dropping more enemies on you just as you’re finishing up the prior fight. It ramps up tension, and makes you seek out safe havens and places the army can’t reach.

The storytelling angle on the MDA Framework sees the Designer’s Story as the Mechanics, the Storytelling (or play experience) as Dynamics, and the Player’s Story (aka the stories they tell themselves about how the game session went) as Affect. This is where FFXV loses a lot of people. It’s broadly panned by critics for how the Designer’s Story snaps from a freeform open-world game to being 100% on rails until shortly before the final boss, at which point it attempts to sell you on its open world again.

From a gameplay perspective, I don’t think XV gains much from its open world. There are a few counterexamples - the experience I had of encountering an Iron Giant at night, just kind of driving around the middle of nowhere is a good emergent gameplay moment - but I think similar experiences could be replicated in instanced content and meanwhile a lot of bland tromping across open plains could be removed.

Meanwhile because it’s so firmly about brotherhood and the fraternal bond between four young men, a lot of the moments that resonate most strongly with its themes are scripted to match appropriate story beats.

Ironically I think the better way to improve FFXV would be to strengthen its rails, not to take it off the rails. FFX was extremely on rails! Until basically the final boss, there wasn’t any way of going back to prior zones at all! The rails, clearly, weren’t the problem. I think a lot of the problem was in the expectation of freedom owing to the first portion of the story being so wide-open and choice-oriented. Because of the existing themes of Noctis entering adulthood, I like the idea of the nature of his options changing somehow. Maybe add in factions he can befriend in the political landscape, each with a specific flair and style. This gives the adult message of his actions now having consequences on people outside his immediate social circle, but also continues to expand options for self-expression. The idea that options for self-expression being constrained is part of the fundamental nature of adulthood is...perhaps one with cultural resonance for a lot of Japanese people, but a lot of people - Japanese people included - just plain hate it as an idea. So I’d make sure whatever options were present early in the game, there might not be the same kinds of choices but there would be just as many that felt meaningful. Perhaps the early game includes exploration and poking aimlessly at sidequests, but once the physical location gets on rails you get into a Mass Effect style of branching narrative tree instead, or that’s when the characters suddenly get access to a job system that lets you customize your play style itself like crazy.

As you can see, there are a lot of ways to do it and they can come at the problem from fundamentally different angles. I think the truth of XV is that the design problem was financial; They’d have made the whole game this freeform romp through the countryside if they’d had the scratch, but they ran out of money so they had to focus on getting the story told. Some of the lazier late-game assets (detailed in various reviews, such as this one from Super Eyepatch Wolf) indicate the same. I expect if I got into that situation I’d take the same approach. To my eye it beats the Lord of the Rings Cartoon approach, where they did production front-to-back and therefore released a movie that’s a really cool first 2/3 of a movie and then it literally just stops without the last 1/3 happening. I think I also prefer it to kicking the can down the road and trying to call it “Part 1 of 2,” because the odds of a satisfying Part 2 getting made are never good in that kind of situation. Once they were in that pickle, they did the best with what they had.

But if I could catch things just a little bit pre-pickle, those are the changes I’d make: I’d take the focus off of the open world - particularly I’d remove most of the real-time travel in favor of environments I could pack more densely with interactions. From a production standpoint I think I’d use a hex map “quadrant design” system, where design teams would make individual hexes of content for a world map and then we’d design the world map to fit the number of encounters we were able to get done, rather than making a world map and hoping we could fill it up with stuff. I’d ABSOLUTELY avoid constraining the player agency, especially in association with Noctis’ journey to adulthood. That just...seems to imply a really shitty theme, and I’m not here for it. To combat this directly, I’d probably add in another cool system associated somehow with adulthood in the second half of the game. There’d be a direct statement from the game that you might lose some choice about some things but you have SO MUCH more choice about others!

So yeah. Those are the Mechanics I’d add to FFXV and how I think they’d change Affect by way of the Dynamics of play.

#design #ffxv #review #class

[lumosinlove]

Solntse

A/N: The last chapter!!! I honestly cannot believe it...

Just...gah, a HUGE thank you to every single one of you for loving this story. This feels like an end of a mini-era of my life! It means so much to me, all of it, each comment each message, every time anyone tells me that these updates got them through a hard day...I want you guys to know that those things get me through hard days or even just make good days even better. So, yes, last chapter of the main story, however I’ll definitely be doing time stamps/epilogue-ish things. Remus at University, time at Sirius’ Dacha ;))))) the boys with little babies who speak Russian like their Papa (oh god oh god oh god Sirius as a Papa), Proposal TM ahhhh. All those sorts of things.

I hope you guys enjoy :)

part xiv

Present Day

Remus sits on the couch, staring at the ground. “He…he put something in my drink.”

Sirius comes and kneels in front of him a few inches away. “I think. Remus—”

“I met you?” Remus says, looking up. Sirius’ face is blurred from tears. “I—I can’t—I can’t remember. I don’t…”

But he remembers something. He remembers a burn, and blood and crying on his bus home and—no Sirius. No memory of that party, no memory of David from that night. His breath knocks out of him half sob. “I don’t remember anything.”

He closes his eyes against how scary that is.

Sirius starts to reach out to him, then stops, instead resting his thumb on the very edge of the outside of Remus’ socked foot, rubbing gently. “Remus, tell me how I’m help you.”

It’s a poor choice of words right now and Remus is so scared, so confused and surprised, that his reply is out of his mouth before he realizes what he’s saying. “You should have helped me then.”

He knows that isn’t fair—it isn’t fair at all—because he’s the one always refusing help. He knows what he would have done if Sirius had tried to fight David on taking Remus away that night. Drugged or not, he would have gone with David. Because he may not remember the night in detail, but he remembers the timing. He had been days away from getting evicted. He wanted to call what Sirius had done a lie. Everything in him was angry. But he couldn’t.

“You kept this from me.” He rasps.

Sirius lets out a breath and drops his head into his hands, fingers digging into his hair. “Remus. Remus, I’m know. So sorry, baby, so sorry.”

“Were you ever going to tell me?” Remus feels like he’s hearing through cotton.

“Yes.” Sirius nods quickly, his eyes red when they look back to Remus. “Yes, I’m find way, but—so mad at me for even get present in beginning, for even want to help because I love you…how—” Sirius voice chokes off and his chest heaves like he can’t breathe. “How I’m tell you we meet because I want to help and—and we not even know together! Each other, I mean…”

Remus shakes his head, hands closing into tight fists. “You—you let me sleep with you…you payed me. How does that keep me from what you were trying to—what, fucking save me from?”

“No, no, Remus, try keep you safe. Want to keep you safe from men like David. Men who hurt. If I’m take up time, make sure you have enough money, don’t need to take bad job. I…” Sirius closes his eyes for a minute, letting out breath. “I sleep with you because…because I…selfish. Is right word? You are beautiful and kind and—and want you close. Think you not stay if I not make it real.” Sirius looks down. “You forget…You aren’t only one hurting when we meet.”

Remus didn’t forget. He couldn’t. His heart feels heavy whenever he thinks about it, how alone Sirius was.

Remus sniffs at that, pressing his palms into his eyes. “I…Sirius.” He looks up, holding his hands up helplessly. “Sirius.”

Sirius takes the hint of an opportunity and pushes himself forward, knees pressed between Remus’ feet, hands splayed on his thighs. “I’m never hurt. Remushya, I’m never hurt. I love you from first saw you. Not joke, Remus. I love you.” Sirius presses up on his knees, hands cupping Remus’ neck in such a tender way that Remus lets out a sob. “I’m not try to save. Baby, you are so strong, not need saving. I’m so sorry—most regret for my life is not take you away first night, New Years. Most sorry.”

Remus shakes his head. “I wouldn’t have gone with you. I—” Remus’ breath hitches. “I’m not—Sirius…”

“What?” Sirius says tenderly. thumbs gentle on the soft skin just below Remus’ ear. “Can tell me every thing.”

Remus shakes his head, pressing his hands over Sirius’. Sirius’ face lights up for a moment until Remus holds them and pushes them away from his face and back towards Sirius. Until he rises, stepping out of Sirius’ reach. “I…I’m not—I…” Remus’ turns away, face crumbling as his breathing gives him away. He wipes angrily at his sticky cheeks. “I don’t know right now.”

There’s a long stretch of silence that Remus at first takes as Sirius not knowing what to say, but when it ends with a wet exhale and a sharp sniff, Remus realizes it was Sirius crying. Remus’ heart clenches and he turns back around. Sirius’ face looks as broken down as his, and he nods without looking at Remus.

“Yes. Okay.” He chokes out, and then disappears from the room. He stays in the apartment though, which Remus is thankful for.

Remus stumbles back to the couch and more falls into it than sits. He feels cold settle into him instantly and presses his hands to his neck right where Sirius’ had been, arms crossed over his chest. He closes his eyes and tries to breathe. He hasn’t felt this sort of cold in a long time, forgotten what it was like. He doesn’t know how he ever survived being used to such a chill.

He makes a list in his head and tries to breathe.

He met Sirius. He was drugged by David and Sirius had helped him outside. Sirius had let him go, suspecting he was drugged. Sirius had been working for David at the time. Sirius had tried to get David to let Remus go home. Remus had voluntarily went with David, also suspecting something was not right.

Remus hadn’t stop himself. Why should he expect a stranger to do it?

He thinks about Sirius the first night in the hotel suite, what Remus had thought to be their first meeting. He was so gentle. It had taken Remus so horribly off guard. He remembers how scared he was, liking the way Sirius felt, the way Sirius was, so much.

He feels so—happy that he’s allowed to love Sirius now, allowed to love him the way Remus is fairly sure he loved him immediately. That first day in suite number twelve.

He won’t end that. He won’t end this.

Sirius is sitting at the end of their bed. He’s already looking up when Remus walks in, no doubt having heard him shuffling down the hall. His eyes are red and glassy, cheeks damp, and hair a mess from pulling at it. As Remus walks towards him he looks like he’s holding his breath in an attempt not to cry, but his lip is trembling and his eyes are so full of tears that the second he has to blink, they betray him.

Remus reaches forward, palms on his cheeks, brushing them away. It’s like the touch breaks him. Sirius’ next breath is a sob.

“So sorry, Remus.” His head tilts into Remus’ palm like he can’t hold himself up. “Please—not leave.”

Remus shushes him softly and kneels before him, a mirror of how Sirius was not a half hour ago. “Me too. I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean it. I—Sirius, you didn’t know me. I can’t expect those things of you. That isn’t fair.”

Sirius shakes his head, knuckles trailing lightly over Remus’ cheeks like he’s the most precious thing he’s ever seen. “Should have protect—”

“You did.” Remus’ voice shook. “You protected me for months and I never even realized. That means you weren’t doing it  for anything… any gain. You were doing it for me.” He leans up on his knees, and Sirius stoops enough so that he can bring their foreheads together. “You showed me that I deserve good things in my life. That I can let people…help.” He swallows over his dry throat. “And maybe I’m still struggling with that. I am still struggling with that, but…If there’s one thing I’m sure of, its that you’re good. Sirius, you’re good, and I deserve you.” Remus curls his hands into Sirius’ hair, holding him close. “And I’ve never been able to say these things. Never in my life. And now…I can only say them—I can only say that I deserve good because of you. Because you protected me from the bad. I shouldn’t have yelled. I won’t leave, not if you don’t want me to.”

“Don’t want.” Sirius says quickly. smoothing his hands down Remus’ shoulders.

Remus nods, “Okay.” He leans down, silently asking. “Okay.”

Sirius obliges, tilting his chin up and kissing him hard. He makes a soft noise into it and presses their lips together like he can’t get close enough.

“Hate fight.” Sirius sighs.

Remus winces. “Me too. Let’s not do that.”

Sirius laughs wetly. “Yes, not do that.”

The funny thing is, Remus sort of believes it. He knows that’s what couples do, he’s seen James and Lily enough times, but…God. He believes it. Even if they do fight, he can’t imagine being angry with Sirius for more than five minutes.

“Want to know something?” Sirius breathes.

“Hm?”

“Think you’re beautiful first time I’m see you. Tell me room so hot. I’m think he’s hot.”

Remus huffs out a little laugh. “I think I knew that.”

“Just tell you again, anyway.” He kisses Remus’ damp cheek. “Beautiful when smile, beautiful when cry. Always beautiful. Come?”

Remus pushes himself up from his knees and lets Sirius gather him against his chest, hands on his hips. He wraps his legs around Sirius’ waist and tucks his face against his neck, breathing in. Sirius is warm and Remus feels a sour guilt in his chest ever doubting him, even for a moment. Sirius’ hand rubs up and down his back.

“What you want to do? Just relax, go walk, desert, go sleep. Open Christmas present?”

Remus laughs for real this time because of course. “Christmas is tomorrow.”

Sirius presses a kiss to the corner of Remus’ mouth. “Good present, though.” He smiles when Remus does and squeezes his hips. “Point is…know what we doing before…”

Remus nods. The clean bill of health, which meant…

“Telling you, emotion thing happen. Not have to do now. Have whole lives. Want you happy. Comfortable.” Sirius winces, smiling a little. “Hard word to say.”

Remus kisses him hard. “That.” He gasps, before leaning in again. “That is why I love you. Right there.”

Sirius hums into the kiss and Remus reaches between them, tucking his fingers beneath the hem of Sirius’ shirt.

“I want to.” He whispers, and presses his fingers up his chest. He can feel the cool metal of the ring there. “I want you.”

Remus feels Sirius shiver against him, just a little. “Whatever you want.”

Remus brushes their lips together, barely. “Take off your shirt.”

Sirius hurries to comply, reaching behind his head to tug the material free. “Next?” He smiles.

“I’m giving all of the instructions here?”

Sirius’ grin widens, his eyebrow cocks up a little. “My turn?”

Remus hums in approval.

“Take off my ring.” Sirius pulls his bottom lip into his mouth for a moment. “Put on.”

And then it’s Remus’ turn to shiver. He takes the chain between his fingers and tugs it over Sirius’ head, getting caught on his ears a moment and making them both laugh. It dangles between them, and Remus thinks about the first time he ever saw the ring. How he thought it had meant that Sirius was married, and how he’d had to deny to himself that his hopes had fallen. And then finding out what it really meant, that night in bed when he’d felt someone’s full attention for the first time in a long time, and not on his status, but on him.

Remus slips it over his head and it falls to the center of his chest. It’s warm from Sirius’ skin.

Sirius’ eyes are glued to it and his lips are parted like he’s trying to draw in air. “Nice.” He says softly, and Remus laughs.

“Yeah?”

Sirius nods. He hooks his fingers into the chain and tugs Remus closer with it. “I’m think about for long time.”

Remus leans down to kiss Sirius’ bare shoulder, right where the chain would usually rest, and then over the hard muscle there. Sirius’ voice is still a little thick from crying, and Remus wants to change that, wants to make it so all he knows is that Remus loves him.

“I’ll wear it whenever you want.” Remus kisses up his neck, over his adam’s apple, and up the other side of his jaw.

“Only necklace?” Sirius says, smile in his voice. His fingers creep up Remus’ shirt and then pushes it all the way off, making the necklace bounce back against his chest. He tucks his fingers into the waist of Remus’ pants almost immediately. “Want to see you.”

The rest of their clothes come off easy and the sheets get untucked and kicked down and then they’re in their own world, skin to skin. There’s no break or fumbling with packages. Remus’ hands fit into the jut of Sirius’ hip bones, before smoothing over to rest in the small of his back, pressing.

He could feel where Sirius was hard against his hip, warm and heavy.

“Remus.” Sirius says against his cheek and ruts softly. “Still okay?”

“You don’t have to ask.” Remus whispers back, and pushes at Sirius’ shoulders until he can flip them so he’s on top. “I’ll tell you, I will, but…I’m pretty sure I’ll always want you.”

Sirius sounds little breathless and he reaches between them, hands soft. “Just us.” He says.

Remus nods.

Sirius huffs out a little laugh. “Still need lube.” He laughs again when Remus groans. Sirius flips them back and starts to lean away. Remus holds him tighter. “Have to let go, I’m make it worth it.”

Sirius reaches for the bedside drawer, there’s a click of a cap, and then he’s back, and his mouth is hot on Remus’.

“Show you what you deserve, baby.” He breathes, and his fingers toy behind Remus’ balls, thumb rubbing gently at the base of his cock. It drives Remus insane. “Slow.” He whispers against Remus’ temple. “Gentle.”

Remus feels like his heart is trying to punch out of his chest, but he manages to tug Sirius down for a kiss just as he slips a finger inside him.

He gasps. “Not—not too slow and gentle, though.”

Sirius grins. “No?” He adds another finger.

Remus thinks about it for a second. Sirius is always so gentle, so loving. And Remus loves it. It was practically revolutionary for him when they first met, to be handled and treated with so much love. But—But he wants—

“I want to feel you.” He says, voice pitching when Sirius’ fingers speed up, just a little. “I want to feel you now, just you. And I want to feel you after.”

Sirius closes his eyes and drops their foreheads together. “Remus.”

“Fuck me, Rushya.”

Sirius lets out a breath and he leans back onto his knees, spread with Remus’ hips between them. He grips his cock, which is red and leaking pre-come onto their sheets. He gives it a few strokes, and then its shiny from the lube left on his fingers. Remus’ chest is tight with want, and he grabs his own cock, pressure firm around the base. He doesn’t want this to be over. Not for a while. The deep flush that’s working itself from Sirius’ neck to his chest really isn’t helping things.

Sirius’ eyes are dark, but the slow smile on his face is loving and almost excited. He’s the picture of lust.

“I’m take care.” He takes hold of Remus’ legs and spreads his knees wider before wrapping them around his own waist and holding them there. “Hold on tight, baby.”

Remus swears under his breath as the tip nudges at his hole. Because there’s nothing separating them. Remus can feel the warm wetness where Sirius is leaking, he can feel the hot blunt head, but all he can look at is Sirius’ face. It’s tilted down, like he’s putting everything he has into this slow slide, but his lips are parted like he’s a second away from snapping his hips forward.

The thing is, Remus kind of wants this first glide to go on forever. He also kind of just wants Sirius to go for it.

The thing is, it really shouldn’t make that much of a difference. A thin, sheen of plastic or no plastic. It’s barely a barrier at all. Except it is.

Sirius finally bottoms out, and Remus pushes himself up on his elbows to look. He moans and falls back against the sheets.

“Fuck me.”

“Is plan.” Sirius says and, like he’s read Remus’ mind, goes for it.

He can’t help the sounds that are punching out of his lungs. Sirius has reduced him to little breathy sounds and pleas of his name that are slowly getting louder. Sirius presses his hands beneath Remus’ back and buries his face in Remus’ neck and then he’s that much deeper, quicker. Sirius snaps his hips forward and all Remus can do is hold onto him and press kisses to every piece of skin he can reach. He can hear the bed nudging against the wall. He can feel the neckless against his chest and his heart pounding in his ears…and Sirius. Warm and pure.

“солнце.” Sirius gasps. “Can’t—”

“Come.” Remus scrapes his teeth against Sirius’ skin with the word.

Sirius’ back is slick as Remus tries to press him deeper, but Sirius gets the message. He pushes in and holds, grinding his hips there until he’s shaking and falling apart in Remus’ arms. He makes a noise, muffled by Remus’ skin. Remus can’t say anything at all, just gasp for air. He’s so close to the edge and he hasn’t even been touched yet. It feels a little like he’s already come, feeling Sirius spill into him, even though his cock is still a deep red at the tip and throbbing between them. He’s sure he’s never been so hard in his life.

It has to hurt a little, but Sirius keeps pushing his slowly softening cock into Remus, breath ragged against Remus’ throat.

“You come like this.” Sirius says, pushing Remus’ hands away when he goes for his erection. “You come from me inside you.”

Remus makes a high noise in his throat. “Oh god.”

Sirius breathes harshly, but he doesn’t relent. Remus’ body draw taught, his cock jumping nearly painfully against his stomach, and he comes and comes.

Sirius collapses against his chest with a groan and the pressure against his cock makes Remus jolt, but it feels like his orgasm is going on forever.

Sirius sucks bruising kisses into his neck and jaw and lets him ride it out with a loose hand around him, keeping Remus gasping until he jerks away, too sensitive.

“Fuck.” Remus pants, and then again. “Fuck.”

“Love you.” Sirius says into his skin.

Remus sighs blissfully and throws his arms around Sirius’ neck. “I love you. Fuck, you’re so hot, you’re so good. I love you so much.”

Sirius is beaming when he pulls back, proud and sweet.  Stray strands of his hair are sticking to his temples. Remus has to lean forward and kiss the sheen of sweat at his throat.

~

They talk until it’s getting light outside. They talk about everything and nothing at all. At 1:33, Sirius remembers.

He gathers Remus to him with a little sound of realization. “Christmas, Remushya. Happy Christmas.” Then he makes an even louder sound and nearly shouts the word, “Present!” and rolls out of bed.

“Hey—” Remus laughs as he watches Sirius’ naked butt disappear down the hallway. “This is my present.”

“So many present!” Sirius voice comes from down the hall. Remus thinks he’s in his office. He distantly hears a drawer shut. It’s another few moments before Sirius reappears. He’s balancing what looks like ten packages, butt naked, and grinning over the top of them. “For my солнце.”

Remus’ heart flops in his chest. “What does that mean?”

Sirius thinks for a moment, dropping all the presents on the bed. The boxes bounce in odd directions. “Sun. But…cute sun? Baby sun? Like baby…warm…puppy…summer…” He shrugs, giving up and climbing onto the bed. “Don’t know.”

“Puppy sun.” Remus repeats, laughing. “I’ll take that, I guess.”

Sirius climbs behind him, leaning back among the pillows, and pulls Remus back against his chest. He hands him a box.

“Open first.”

“This is way too much. I only gave you…” Remus sighs, but he’s smiling and he snuggles back against Sirius.

Sirius presses a kiss to his neck, fingers running over his necklace that Remus is still wearing. “Nothing too much for you. You give me piece of home and most love ever have. Nothing too much for you, baby.”

Remus has to turn around and kiss him, and it takes a few more minutes for them to actually get to the gifts.

The first package is a series of maps. One details all of the best places to get pancakes in New York, another Donuts, and a third Pizza. Remus laughs. It isn’t at all what he expected.

“We have to use these before your next trip.”

Sirius nods. “Yes. Must.” He slides another box over to Remus.

The next few boxes are filled with other little, thoughtful things. The pair of shoes Remus looked at through the window every time they passed that one shop on the way to their favorite brunch place. Soft t-shirts that are like the ones Sirius has that Remus always stole, thick socks because Remus’ feet are always cold and Sirius always groans when Remus presses his toes against his calves when they’re in bed. A book called A Beginner’s Guide to the Russian Language. Remus starts to open that one right away, but Sirius laughs and makes him finish opening first. He pouts just a little. He’s been wanting to try and meet Sirius half way with the language barrier for a long time now.

“Privet.” He says instead, because it’s really one of the only words he can comfortably say. Then he says I love you, because it’s the only other thing he knows, even though he’s pouting. Sirius laughs at him and presses a kiss to his temple.

“All you can say is ‘hi, love you’ to me? Not bad life.”

Remus elbows him gently in the ribs.

When he comes to the last gift, though, he’s speechless.

Remus pulls the tissue paper aside to reveal a messenger bag. It’s the softest leather Remus has ever felt, a light tan, and roomy, but not bulky. He runs a hand over it, and feels a lump form in his throat when he reaches the top.

R. J. LUPIN is imprinted in gold into the leather just near the handle. Remus traces it with his fingers quietly.

Sirius rests his chin on Remus’ shoulder, fingers splayed on Remus’ ribs, thumbs rubbing softly. “Like?”

Remus nods. “Sirius…”

“For school, yes? Whenever you ready, want you to be—prepare.” He presses a kiss to Remus’ shoulder blade. “Open.”

Remus laughs softly because of course. He unbuckles the straps carefully and flips the weighty flap back. Inside are beautifully bound notebooks and a pack of Remus’ favorite pens—a cheap brand that he’s always bought because the ink never clumps.

“You were really paying attention, huh?”

Sirius hums. “Need new ones, you chew all the tops.”

“True.” Remus laughs and pulls out the last thing in the bag. At first, he thinks they’re envelopes, but then he gets a good look at them.

They’re plane tickets. To Russia.

Remus turns so he can see Sirius’ face. He’s chewing his lip nervously, eyes on Remus.

Sirius smiles, a little shakily. “Is next trip I’m talk about. Plan for us. Hope…Hope you come, too? Meet family. Mama, Papa, brother, Regulus. They…” Sirius swallows and Remus feels his hold on him get a little tighter. “They not know about me. Want to tell them, but…Is bad thing in Russia, to be gay. Not good at all. I’m know they not—they not be happy…So, want you there. Want them to know you, boy I love, before they decide. If never want see me again, okay, at least I’m try hardest. I’m…I’m hope it help them.” He tries to smile again, when it falls. “Also, want to show you home. My home.”

“Rushya…” Remus carefully lays aside the bag and the books and the clothes in favor of turning in Sirius’ arms and pressing against him. “Of course I’ll come with you.” He presses their lips together. “Of course I want to meet them. I…I want to learn everything about you.”

Sirius’ smile, although paired with glassy eyes, is bright. “Yes?” He presses a stray curl of Remus’ hair back from his face. “Is perfect because before I’m go back for work and before you start think about applications. I’m show you Moscow, I’m take you to dacha, little house for summer. You love, just us there, and water and sun…and bed.”

Remus smiles. “You take me to places like that too much and I’ll never want to do anything else.”

Sirius leans down to kiss him. “Is fine with me.”

Remus lets Sirius kiss him until he’s a little dizzy with it and he’s sure that if he hadn’t come harder than he ever had in his life a few hours ago, he’d be looking to go again.

“Sirius.” He says after a moment, peppering a few more kisses before pulling back. “Even…Even if it doesn’t go well with your family…” Remus swallows, thinking of his own parents, of how his father had turned him out of the house without even letting him gather anything. About how his mother had simply turned away. He can’t imagine what he would’ve done without James being there for him, what he would’ve done if he’d had to go through that alone. “You have me.” Remus strokes his thumb over Sirius’ bottom lip. “And you have James and Lily, too, if you’d like, and you have Sergei and the girls and…and you’re loved by so many people. Okay?”

Sirius nods, smile soft. “Mean more than anything, you know? Can be…me. You love me for it. Is true to you, too, baby.”

Remus nods, silently adoring Sirius in the dim, warm light of their bedroom, the light touch of his fingers on his skin. He doesn’t know how anything could get better than this, but he has a feeling it will. He wants everything with Sirius, even the ups and downs.

“I know that now.” Remus says. “Because of you.”

And he might call Remus the sun but, looking at Sirius now, Remus has never seen anything so bright.

#wolfstar #solntse #sirius black #remus lupin #sirius x remus #remus x sirius #sirius/remus #remus/sirius #russian!sirius #callboy!remus #wolfstar au #wolfstar smut #wolfstar fluff #woflstar angst #the marauders era #writing #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter au #wolfstar fic #wolfstar fanfiction #ahhhh

[foxyotomelady]

It wasn’t supposed to be, Chapter X (JuminxOC/Reader)

Author’s notes:

Just be aware of angst and much of feels ;-;

Chapter I | Chapter II | Chapter III | Chapter IV | Chapter V | Chapter VI | Chapter VII | Chapter VIII | Chapter IX |  Chapter X (You are here) | Chapter XI | Chapter XII | Chapter XIII | Chapter XIV | Chapter XV | Chapter XVI |

Buy Me A Ko-Fi Have a nice reading!

Jumin had no idea how to deal with all this. It was even worse than when Riyu went out to meet with Jaehee and Zen. Then he could convince himself that his anxiety was groundless. Now... He had reason to be worried. He couldn't stop thinking that Riyu was with his father now. He couldn't stop wondering what they were doing together... The girl was very determined in her goal, so he was afraid even more... What she was able to force herself to do?  When Assistant Kang entered his office, he did not even look at her, leaning over the desk, hands dug into his hair.  "Mr. Han?"  "Yes?" He still wasn't looking at her.  "You have a meeting in a moment, sir. You don't look well..."  "Start the meeting without me. I will join in about fifteen minutes."  "Mr. Han... I don't know what's going on, but... Can I help you somehow?"  He must have looked really bad since even she was asking about his well-being. "You don't need to worry, Assistant Kang. I'm just fed up with my father and his new woman."  "Riyu...? But I thought you two were getting along, sir... "  Jumin waved his hand, "Never mind. You can leave, Assistant Kang."  Jumin waited for Jaehee to leave his office and dialed Seven's number. "Jumin?" Seven asked in surprise when he picked up the phone. "I have a task for you. Check Riyu's parents for me."  Seven laughed maniacally, "Bold of you to assume that I didn't check on them already." "And what did you find?"  "Surprisingly not much," Luciel's voice suddenly became serious. "Almost as if they don't exist. The only thing I could dig out was that they aren't her biological parents, Riyu was adopted."  That was surprising and important news, but it couldn't help him at all. Jumin sighed, "Don't stop looking and keep me posted."  "Juju, is something wrong going on?"  Jumin didn't answer. He hung up.

Riyu grimaced in the smile when Mr. Chairman insisted that she should try on another expensive dress - of course, one that was in his taste. She did not need all this but she knew that she would offend him if she constantly refused, so she humbly accepted every present. While they were walking from shop to shop, sudden thought crossed Riyu's mind. She could use Mr. Han's generosity for one good purpose.  "Mr. Han," She said sweetly and forced herself to put a hand on his shoulder. "I have one wish."  "Wish, my dear? I will fulfill any of your wishes."  "Some time ago, I and Jumin found puppies abandoned in the park. One of them is still looking for a home. Could I adopt him? Of course, when he is old enough. I would like to know if you would not mind his presence at home when we’ll live together."  "Of course, darling. You can have any animal you want, any breed you choose."  Riyu shook her head, "I just want to adopt this little mongrel." "You have a big and soft heart, haven't you? No wonder my son liked you."  Riyu laughed nervously. She wasn't sure if Mr. Chairman hadn't said it ironically. Perhaps he really suspected something...  In the evening, when they returned to the hotel, Riyu hoped to escape to her room, but Mr. Han insisted that they spend supper together, as he was going abroad again tomorrow. The supper went quietly, though awkwardly, until the old man began to behave suggestively.  "Come, sit closer." When she reluctantly listened to him, he poured her a drink into her glass, although she did not ask for it. "Have a drink," He insisted. "You are very tense."  Her hands were shaking as she drank in small sips and sometimes just dipped her mouth in a liquid to pretend to drink. Mr. Han was definitely more insistent than the previous evening, and it frightened her more and more. She almost choked when he put his hand on her thigh. "Relax, I won't do anything. I just want you to get used to my touch as you said."  Riyu was sitting stiffly and told herself not to cry. The old man did nothing more, just kept his hand in place. "I'm not a bad person and I can give you everything you want."  "I know that, Mr. Han," She whispered weakly and he finally took his hand away. "Go to bed, my dear. You are tired." Riyu blinked and dared to look at his face. Mr. Chairman looked lost in his thoughts, maybe even... sad? Was he beginning to doubt the sincerity of her feelings? Not good, she couldn't let that happen. She got up from the sofa, put down the empty glass and smiled sweetly at the old man, "Goodnight, Mr. Han. I would like to say goodbye to you tomorrow at the airport." That was all she could manage before she escaped into her room and closed the door behind her. After she took a shower - she had a second bathroom attached to the room - and changed into a nightgown, she hid under the covers and grabbed the phone. She wrote a message to Jumin. Tomorrow your father is going abroad again. I'll say goodbye to him at the airport tonight and go back to your apartment... If it's still an option. During this time, which Riyu spent with Mr. Chairman, she did not have many opportunities to contact Jumin. They exchanged rough messages sporadically, as they do now. The whole RFA had no idea where she was now. Jumin wrote back after a long moment. I'll send someone for you, just give me the exact time tomorrow. How's Elizabeth the 3rd? Does she miss me? She meows more often than usual, so I think so. I can't wait to see her again. Ah, Jumin, I'm adopting the last puppy. Your father agreed to keep the dog at home when I'll live with him. I understand. I'm glad the puppy found a home. Elizabeth the 3rd tells you a good night. Sweet dreams for you both ^^ Riyu... If something bad happens, don't hesitate to inform me. I'll send someone immediately. I know that, Jumin. Do not worry about me.

The next day Riyu and Mr. Chairman spent this day walking together, shopping and having dinner. It was surprisingly... No, she wouldn't say nice. But certainly not as terrible as the previous day. The old man kept his hands to himself, did not insist on closeness. It pleased her, but on the other hand, worried her - she could not let him lose interest in her. But so far, she had to do practically nothing so that he would be interested in her - nothing but smiles and kind words. That's why she had no idea what to do now. She wasn't a gold-digger. She had no... experience. The evening came quickly. The only time when Mr. Chairman touched her this day was at the airport when they were saying goodbye to each other - he kissed her hand - she could bear it. Driver Kim arrived for her and as she drove in the direction of Jumin's building, she felt immense relief, interspersed with stress. She was glad that she no longer had to spend time with the old man, but she was also afraid of how Jumin would react to her sight. She would not be surprised if he began to avoid her. Actually, it would be better for both of them... The security guard helped her with a suitcase and a bag of presents from Mr. Han. They rode the elevator in silence, and then Riyu insisted that he leave her packages at the door of the apartment. She didn't want him to accompany her when she'll meet Jumin. She took a deep breath, opened the door with her card, which she had received from Jumin some time ago, and came with packages inside. She set the suitcase down against the wall, the bag of presents still in her hand when Jumin faced her. They looked at each other in silence, and Riyu felt her heart beating painfully. Jumin looked somehow different... As if he was terribly tired. Did she do this to him? Did he sleep badly because of her? "Let me help you with that," He said suddenly and approached her to reach for the bag she was still holding. They found themselves very close together, Jumin's hand touched her hand, instead of taking the bag handle from her, his fingers gently wrapped around hers. Riyu shuddered, she was overcome with such strong emotions that she dropped her bag. It was as if someone had cut her legs suddenly, she almost felt weak. She clung to Jumin and hugged him tightly. "It was awful... It was a nightmare... I can't, I can't do this anymore... But I have to... Jumin, I don't want to marry your father... You were right all the time... I don't want to do this... But I have to! " She didn't want to cry either, but tears ran down her cheeks and she couldn't stop them. "Shh..." Jumin stroked her hair and back. "Has my father done you any harm?" Riyu shook her head, cuddling it in his chest, "No, no... But just his touch ...His presence alone..." "Shh... Don't think about it," He gently cupped her cheeks. Riyu took a step back, instinctively, looked up at him. Jumin leaned forward, and this time neither of them stopped what they both desperately wanted. He kissed her gently, slowly, probably tasted her tears that were still flowing from her eyes. She clenched her fingers on his shirt and sobbed as the kiss deepened. "Jumin... We can't..." "I don't care anymore," He said in a low voice and closed her mouth with a much more passionate kiss. Riyu stood on her toes to embrace his neck, sank her hand in the hair on his neck, pulled him closer. Jumin held her back with one hand and wandered her waist with the other. Suddenly she felt the wall behind her back, clung to it, struggling to cope with the passion that had awakened between them. No one has ever kissed her like that... "Don't cry..." Jumin whispered at her lips, wiping tears from her cheeks. "Talk to me and let me help you." She looked into his eyes sadly, "I can't, Jumin. It's too risky, even for you." Jumin closed his eyelids, sighed, then pulled her close to him in a tight embrace.

Mewing interrupted them. Riyu looked down and saw Elizabeth sitting at their feet, "Elizabeth!" She bent to take the cat in her arms and hugged her tightly.  Jumin smiled, "Have you had dinner yet? If not, I will gladly accompany you."  Jumin ordered food and soon they ate together as always. None of them wanted to talk about what had happened over the last few days. They just enjoyed each other presence. "What would you say for a movie night?" Jumin suggested when they finished eating.  "It's a brilliant idea! What will we watch?"  "It doesn't matter."  Riyu decided to take a shower before they start the seans. When refreshed and dressed in a nightgown she left the bathroom and went to the living room, she found Jumin sleeping on the sofa. His shirt was loose, his hair messy. He must have fallen asleep here while he was waiting for her. Riyu approached him quietly and sat carefully next to him. She caressed his temple. Now she saw the dark circles under his eyes.  "I'm so sorry, Jumin... You deserve so much more," She whispered under her breath. "I wish I meet you in different circumstances." "Riyu..?" Jumin mumbled slowly, then rubbed his eyes. "Ah, yes, our movie night."  Riyu leaned forward to kiss his forehead, "Don't be silly. You're exhausted. We'll do it another time."  Jumin nodded, his eyes closing again, "Lie with me."  Riyu smiled affectionately, "Let me just bring a blanket." Riyu quickly found the blanket, returned to Jumin, lay down next to him, and covered them with fluffy material. Jumin put his arms around her waist and she buried her head in his chest and took a deep breath. And just like that, in each other embrace, they fell asleep, Elizabeth the 3rd in their feet.

#angst #fanfiction #mysme fanfic #mystic mesenger #jumin x oc #jumin x reader #jumin han x reader #jumin han x oc #jumin #jumin han #seven #jaehee kang #they finally did it #I don't need to hold back anymooooreee #yessss

[inkstaineddove]

Business and Displeasure Ch.1

Chapters: 2 + 3

Ships: PruHun, AusHun, one-sided RusPru

Characters: Austria, Prussia, Hungary, Russia, Britain; mentioned France

Summary: Austria invites the other principles of the Sixth Coalition against Napoleon - Russia, Britain, and Prussia - to his home to hammer out the details of their alliance. Ostensibly, they are supposed to be at their most diplomatic. For three nights, bad behavior stacks up as each nation is forced to deal with each other in such close quarters. Some new friendships will emerge while others will rapidly deteriorate.

 Vienna, 1813.

France had been growing too ambitious. His quest for dominance had put him in direct confrontation with the other European powers. Unfortunately for them, he'd become the most powerful he'd ever been, surpassing the strength he'd had under Louis XIV. None of them stood a chance fighting him by themselves or in smaller coalitions. They were going to have to do what they'd never succeeded at before: working as a team.

With this goal in mind, Austria had invited Prussia, Britain, and Russia into his home. It would be best for them to hash out the details of their alliance along with a general strategy for how to take down the growing menace in person, unimpeded by the delays in letters arriving or having to work through representatives. Part of him was pleased at the idea, it hadn't been tried by any of them in their prior alliances, where they would only meet up together for battle. The other part of him had gnawing doubts about allowing Russia and Prussia into his home. Britain was a proper aristocrat like himself. He could trust Arthur to show him and his family the proper respect they deserved. Ivan and Gilbert were brutes, they were the wild card. He'd have to hold them to account.

"You're pacing, dear, what's the matter?" Behind her concerned words, Hungary couldn't hide her boredom. She was standing in front of the mirror, holding up different dresses to find which one suited her best.

"This is very stressful for me, Erzsébet. I hope you'll understand that. I want France's reign of terror to be over, but I resent that it means opening our home to savages!"

"Don't worry, I'll keep a close eye on Gilbert. I'll make sure he's on his best behavior." She smiled at her reflection, her voice a silky purr.

Roderich's eyes narrowed. "I'm sure you will, Liebling." His voice dripped with disdain. "That's the one thing I can always count on from you." He heard the sounds of his parlor beginning to fill downstairs. He saw her slipping into her dress out the corner of his eye as he began exiting the room. "You always look fat in red." He quickly shut the door. He laughed hearing the thump of a book hitting it and his wife cursing in Hungarian.

Down below, Britain, Prussia, and Russia intermingled. "It was a right bitch getting over here, let me tell you that. The damn blockade that frog had on me made it difficult to cross the Channel. Thankfully, God smiles upon the English and we made it."

"Oh, how did you do it?" Russia smiled with genuine interest.

Arthur's face shifted into a wicked grin. "By blowing up five of his ships!" Gilbert and Ivan shared a look as Arthur barely contained his laugh. And everyone considered them the maniacs?

"Gentlemen, it's so lovely to see you all here. I hope the road didn't leave you too weary and that your journey went untroubled." Roderich entered, shooing out the staff that lingered in the room. He put on his most winning smile. "If you're all up to it, I hope we can begin some business straight away. The sooner we get done with everything, the sooner you'll all be back home." And the sooner you'll all be out of my hair, he added to himself.

The suggestion was met with no grumbling. Austria led the men up into his study. They arranged themselves around the map of Europe folded out on the table. "I can secure financing for whatever operations we carry out. The Royal Navy has been undertaking skirmishes along the Channel and North Sea, along with anywhere French ships are foolish enough to be. Within a couple weeks I can have my men bombarding the French coastline to pull troops away from whatever joint land engagements you three begin. Prussia, your men should meet up with the Hanoverians before marching east to-" Britain cut himself off. He felt the icy stare of Austria upon him. "Is something the matter?"

"I didn't realize we were going to be receiving our marching orders from London. If I had known, I would've insisted on the meeting being held at your home instead of mine." Austria balled his hands into fists behind his back. "How foolish of me to forget that we could count on Great Britain having a plan himself for how we lowly continentals would do all the work." He bowed with mock respect. "My sincerest apologies."

"Oh, you suddenly have a better idea? My intel might have been off. Aren't you three the ones who have led the previous campaigns and been embarrassingly crushed each time? By all means though, if you suddenly have the expertise to pull this off, Austria, go ahead. I'll return to my place in the back benches." Britain smugly shrugged. "Though I would consult with the other two before doing anything so drastic."

Prussia was leaned up against the farthest wall. "You're the only one that's been able to scrape some meaningful victories against this bastard. I'm certainly not having my king take a leading role, the guy has no military sense and no balls to listen to anyone with any experience. From working with him, I can tell you Austria doesn't either."

"Bold of you to insult my army when you're the one who's capital was overtaken! Who do you think you are?" Austria sniffed.

"I already admitted to my flaws. Man up and do the same. The capable men we have defected to Russia to keep up the fight since the morons wanted to help France. Thankfully, this new coalition had them return, but I'm not risking losing them and their allegiance again through another one of our half-baked schemes! We listen to Britain or I work on rebuilding my nation until you three sort this out." Prussia shrugged. "No skin off my bones."

Russia stepped in between the opposing sides before it could get any more heated. "Just a second. Let's hear Austria out before we shoot him down. Maybe he actually had a decent plan this time?" He smiled, all fake pleasantry directed at his host. "I hope you finally figured something out. I'm getting tired of providing the most men only to get so many killed."

Cornered. "I expected us to come away with a plan over the week." Austria averted his gaze from the other three. No one needed to see his embarrassment.

"Then no need for all the fuss, eh?" Britain placed a firm hand on Austria's shoulder. Roderich never remembered the Briton being quite this strong. "I've got some ideas on what we can do, where we can route troops and trap the French. 'Course you three know the topography best and where we'll have the best advantages, but rest assured that I've got an ample outline we can hammer out tomorrow. Hope you chaps don't mind me wanting to save it till then. It's been rough sailing the past few days to get here."

Supremely humiliated, Roderich called in two of his maids to show Ivan and Arthur to their rooms. He glared at Gilbert as he moved to his desk. "I suppose you're satisfied. An hour in and I've already made an ass of myself. Though I do like your threat of leaving if you had to listen to me. Your flair for the dramatic hasn't weakened since the last I saw you."

"Oh, get over yourself. You know my satisfaction will come later tonight." A shark-like smile. Gilbert paced slowly through the room, admiring what was on the shelves. "Thank you, I try to give my best performance for the audience. Can't let them know that I'm waiting to dig my boot into your throat. Has to be the pretense of diplomacy."

"Mmm." In honesty, Roderich was paying him no mind. It was easy to tune out this type of baiting when it had become routine after so long. "It would be best if you went to your room. You shouldn't get it confused with mine this time since I've unfortunately had to put you on the ground floor."

"Funny. If I recall, I was able to get your staff to move me next to yours for a couple hundred thalers. Amazing what the underpaid will do for money, isn't it?" Prussia winked at the Austrian as he gaped at him in fury. "I'll see you at dinner, neighbor."

Once the door was closed again, Roderich buried his face in his hands. He couldn't escape the feeling that he'd invited the devil into his home.

---

After spending time to recover and unpack in their own rooms, all the guests eventually made their way to the parlor. A haze of thick fog hung over the room as Britain and Prussia chain smoked from their pipes. Russia politely had his trademark scarf over his mouth, helping to filter the harsh air somewhat. Austria, still lapping up his ego, hung in the back of the room reading.

Eventually, Hungary joined the men. She had paid extra attention to making sure every hair was in place, that all her make-up was done with extreme precision. Extracting himself from whatever boring war stories Prussia and Britain were trading, Russia extended a hand out to her, pleasing her with the gesture befitting an equal and not some feeble arm-candy. "Erzsébet! So good to see you, how have you been? I fear it's been too long since I've been in the presence of your charms."

"Oh, Ivan, you're as adorable as ever. You know how it is," her eyes flashed towards Roderich, who was completely oblivious. "I've been here in my gilded cage. Attending to whatever I'm told befits my station. I hope you've been faring better."

Ivan tsked. "What a shame. You should be out with us, fighting! You're one of the fiercest warriors I've had the honor of fighting with and against. I'd love to see what you would do in command. You should be in the meetings with us."

That actually touched her. She put a hand on his arm and nodded her head in the direction of her dear husband. "I'd love to, why don't you try and convince him though." Pleasantly surprised, Russia raced off to do just that. Her eyes met with Roderich's, whose own burned with a deep disgust at her insubordination. Erzsébet huffed. It wasn't as if she set Ivan up to do this, he was his own man capable of making his own choices.

"Hungary, how rude of me, I didn't see you there. Come and join us, would you like a drink?" She was snapped out of her thoughts by a jovial Britain. She noticed his empty glass. That explained his good mood.

"Now, Britain, you shouldn't be the one offering to get me anything. This is my home, I can get it myself." She nodded at one of the maids, who quickly poured her a glass of red wine. Britain took her hand and kissed it politely. She was always amused by his gentlemanly act. Why pretend to be nobler than the rest of them? Everyone knew of his brutality, of his ruthlessness. She supposed it helped him sleep at night, to have the thin veneer of goodness.

"How sweet you are. Oi, Austria, what a wife you've got. You should consider yourself lucky."

"Oh, yes. What a wife I have indeed." Roderich's voice was deadpanned. "How ever could I manage without her."

"Yes, your mistress is quite a lovely one." Gilbert's eyes glistened a fiery red. "I might even say she's the fairest in all the land." He snaked his arm around Erzsébet's waist and gave her a soft kiss on the cheek, close to her lips. She couldn't resist leaning into his touch nor wipe the satisfied smile off her face.

Arthur's eyes widened. He took a step back. He silently chided himself for not paying more attention to the interpersonal affairs of the continental nations. Perhaps if he did, then he would've known what kind of mess he'd wandered into. When he found no drink left in his glass to provide some escape from the second-hand embarrassment he felt for Roderich, he quickly excused himself towards the bar.

For his part, Roderich was reeling from the shock. When it had been the three of them, he was used to Gilbert and Erzsébet's lack of discretion. He had expected them to be on their best behavior in front of the other's, not because they respected him, but out of respect for themselves. He slammed his book shut and resisted the urge to begin bludgeoning them both with it. "Careful, Prussia," he hissed. Ice ran hot through his veins.

"With no disrespect to you, Hungary, I'd have to say my sisters are the fairest. Natalya is quite the beauty, any man would be lucky to be with her." Ivan pulled at his scarf sheepishly. "Not me, of course. And Katyusha might be rather plain in appearance, but her heart is twice the size of all my lands. I don't think I could ever meet a woman that surpasses their beauty."

The other four nations were taken aback by this. Not by Ivan's love of his sisters, that was well known, but his lack of ability to read the room. He had seemed oblivious to any sort of slight that occurred. Prussia and Hungary wondered if they needed to be more obvious next time, Austria wondered if it wasn't obvious enough and that he'd blown it out of proportion, and Britain wondered how he'd managed to find himself surrounded by such morons. A truly perplexing situation for all.

Russia looked around between them. "Was that too much?" Then he zeroed in on Prussia's arm, still around Hungary's waist, and finally understood. "Oh. Ah. Well." His brain short-circuited. He quickly scrambled over to Britain. "Say, I've never been to India. What's it like down there?"

Both men took their escape and prattled on about the jungles of India and the strange customs they had there. Prussia, Hungary, and Austria continued staring each other down. Austria rose and hastily moved over to them. "You've made your point now, are you satisfied?"

"I keep telling you, my satisfaction won't come until tonight. Though it is sweet of you to keep checking on me." Gilbert placed a hand on Roderich's cheek and adopted a sickeningly sweet tone. "You've always been such a provider, Roddy."

Roderich slapped his hand away. "Erzsébet, it would be advised that you go see what needs to be done in the kitchen. Now." He waited till she had bustled off before continuing. "I don't know what game you're getting at, Gilbert, but you're in my home. I've extended a basic courtesy to you and I demand it to be returned. I will not accept being disrespected in front of everyone else." His voice was low, a fierce whisper so no eavesdroppers could pick up on what was being said. "I will not be cuckolded!"

"You won't? Oh no, I'm afraid it's too late for that message." Gilbert wore a shit-eating grin. Roderich's fingers twitched to smack it off his face, to ruin the carpets with his blood, all noble pretenses be damned. "I'll do what I damn well please. Try to stop me."

With that, the Prussian turned on his heel and joined the other three. He felt Austria's eyes burning a hole in his back, but shrugged them off. He was thriving off this. He could give a damn about what they planned this week around. They'd make their plan to take down France and that would be it, he knew it would come together now with Britain's forces and money. What he'd desired was another romp through the mud with Austria, to assert himself as the dominant force between the two of them. Assert he would and pity the fool he tried to stop him.

#hws austria #aph austria #hws prussia #aph prussia #aph hungary #hws hungary #hws russia #aph russia #hws england #aph england #hws britain #aph britain #pruhun #hws pruhun #aph pruhun #aph aushun #aushu #hws aushun #Hetalia Fanfiction #historical hetalia #hetalia fanfic #h

[bountyofbeads]

Trump’s Paradigm of the Personal https://nyti.ms/2NwK2xW

Excellent piece by @CharlesMBlow of the Times. Highly recommend, also the comments are interesting as well.

Trump’s Paradigm of the Personal

He confuses the way he thinks he is treated with the well-being of the country.

By Charles M. Blow, Opinion Columnist

Published Aug. 25, 2019 | New York Times | Posted August 26, 2019 |

For Donald Trump, all is personal.

And in his view, he is not the executive of the company. He is the embodiment of the country. He runs the country the way he ran his business, as the curating and promotion of his personal brand.

The people who support him are customers — people to be sold a vision and a dream. The people who criticize or oppose him threaten the brand and must be dealt with.

For Trump, everything is image-based and rooted in the appearance of personal relationships. When the Danish prime minister rebuffed his overture about buying Greenland, calling the idea “absurd,” Trump threw a tantrum and canceled his visit to Denmark.

Trump discussed the episode at one of his press gaggles, calling the prime minister’s response “nasty’ and saying, “We can’t treat the United States of America the way they treated us under President Obama.” He went on to say: “She’s not talking to me. She’s talking to the United States of America. You don’t talk to the United States that way, at least under me.”

No, actually, she was talking to him.

America was not being dismissed or disrespected. This proposal, which sounded like a joke, was being laughed at. And this president hates being laughed at.

Everything in Trump’s view is about whether someone is nice or nasty to him. It’s not about the country at all. It’s not about historical precedent or value of continuity.

His dislike of his predecessors — Barack Obama, George W. Bush, Bill Clinton and even Jimmy Carter — is personal, not rooted in policy. He has a particular obsession with Obama, and has set about to undo everything Obama had done.

It’s petty and small and beneath the presidency, much like Trump himself.

I believe that Trump has had a longstanding belief about how China should be dealt with, but I believe that the current trade war is as much a personal beef with the Chinese president, Xi Jinping. Trump thought that he could play rough and that Xi would fold.

That was silly and shortsighted. The U.S. presidency is term-limited. China’s is not. The Chinese may experience pain from the trade war, but they can afford to wait Trump out.

The fact that Jerome Powell, chair of the Federal Reserve, won’t attempt to manipulate the economy in ways Trump thinks would be favorable, but is instead operating as an independent thinker, Trump takes as a personal slight. Trump appointed him. Trump demands loyalty and blind obeisance.

When China announced another round of retaliatory tariffs this week, Trump had a Twitter meltdown, tweeting “... My only question is, who is our bigger enemy, Jay Powell or Chairman Xi?” and sending the markets into a tailspin.

Trump hated North Korea’s Kim Jong-un before he loved him. Kim has played Trump like a fiddle. Kim has baited Trump into two summits, where Trump got nothing and Kim got a priceless public relations moment. Kim can just send Trump love letters and do what he wants and surrender nothing. In Trump’s paradigm of the personal, Kim likes him and is his friend.

Vladimir Putin is also exploiting Trump’s personal need to be liked — his weak man’s desire to be admired by strong men. Trump has a deep and mysterious affection for Putin. Yes, Putin helped to get him elected, but I’m not sure even that explains the way Trump genuflects for him.

Everyone around Trump knows his weakness: He is a bottomless pit of emotional need, someone who desperately wants friends but doesn’t have the emotional quotient to know how to make and keep them. So, they flatter him and inflate him.

They have all become major-league yes men and women.

None of this is good for the country. The presidency is not owned; it is occupied. It is bigger than any man or woman. Men have grown into it, but they have never subsumed it.

The presidency must have one eye on the past and one on the future. It must place national interest over personal interest. It has absolutely nothing to do with any one person’s feelings.

In George Washington’s farewell address of 1796, he said:

“The nation which indulges towards another a habitual hatred or a habitual fondness is in some degree a slave. It is a slave to its animosity or to its affection, either of which is sufficient to lead it astray from its duty and its interest.”

Trump is trying to embody the country and to lead it astray in the way that Washington warned against. Trump is a slave to his emotions, and this impulse is doing great harm to the nation, both internally and on the world stage.

I’m not sure that damage is irreparable. Our democracy, though fragile in many ways, has proved remarkably durable in others. But there is no doubt that the damage Trump is doing is deep and will take time and effort to undo.

Trump’s personal problems will leave a national scar.

COMMENTS FROM READERS, ADD YOUR THOUGHTS AS WELL:

""Trump’s personal problems will leave a national scar." More like an open wound that won't heal. 60 million citizens have succumbed to his bombast, and to date there seems to be no weakening of their support. That will take years if not decades to heal. It may never. Iraq and the Bush years were tragic, but with President Obama we started a recovery. Even with one of the deepest recession, we all pulled together, and we started the to build jobs again and pulled out of the recession quicker than the rest of the world. We lead the way. But literally within days of Trump taking office the country started it's tragic descent into the abyss. And there is no end in sight."

CHERRYLOG754, ATLANTA

"Because this president views himself a king, like Louis XIV, his actions and words smack of "l'etat c'est moi". Which is a fancy way of saying, what Charles just said, he thinks he embodies the nation, not leads it. Which is funny, because if you are the nation, wouldn't you have a better appreciation of its history, culture, mores, and values? One would think so. I watched the world leaders at G-7 and except for Trump, each shows a keen understanding of what their country represents and where it's headed. Even newbie Boris Johnson is well educated, even if his bombast often resembles that of Trump. More important, they know they are leading their entire countries, not just a small base of ardent supporters. Trump's problem is he can't grow his base, because he doesn't want to: the best part of his job is the one he shouldn't be doing on the taxpayers' dime: holding political rallies to boost his ego." CHRISTINE MCM, MASSACHUSETTS

" In other words Charles, Trump lacks the temperament to be President. Anyone who is honest with him/herself knows that. Even the Republicans in Congress know this. The problem is that neither they nor Trump's base care."

JAY ORCHARD , MIAMI FL

"It makes a sort of sense that Trump expected his "tough guy" act with President Xi would result in Xi giving in. Just as he thought his thrown down the papers and stamp out of the room would make Speaker Pelosi grovel for whatever he wanted. Trump, in the private sector, could choose his victims, and he made sure they would at least perceive he was far richer and more powerful, (whether he was or not) so he could, bluster and rage, doing as he pleased and demanding whatever he wanted. That doesn't work when you become a public employee, which the President is, and Trump has no other rabbits to pull out of that same tired stage hat. And he clearly can't figure out why it's not working any more."

1DCAce, LOS ANGELES CA

"There's nothing mysterious about the President's admiration for Mr. Putin. Putin has made Russia into exactly what Mr. Trump would like to make the United States: an authoritarian plutocracy where the super-rich can do absolutely anything they want — except dispute the legitimacy of the government — while everyone else is kept in line by voter suppression, state-controlled media and churches, and an intimidating security apparatus."

JL WILLIAMS, WAHOO NE

"From my understanding of Trump, his greatest fear, going back to his early days in NYC, is that he is not taken seriously. It's an old vs new money sort of thing, as far as I can tell. He tried to buy his way into big money society by assuming a false name and giving the media false numbers about his personal wealth he was so desperate to prove his real worth. He put gold plate on everything he touched, hoping that would show how wealthy he was. Still, no one took him seriously. And now he's finding that world leaders fail to take him seriously as well. You can almost hearing him thinking -- I'm in the White House, surely they'll take me seriously now. But alas, he's the poor little sort-of-rich boy that no one wants to play with. He doesn't care about the country. He only cares about himself. And he still finds that no one takes him seriously. Sad, as he used to like to say."

AVRDS, MONTANA

"Excellent observations as usual from Charles Blow. I would only add that Trump's form of mental illness is dangerous. It is not innocuous, rather it is pervasive and boundless. That renders him an immediate dangerous to our nation. Immediate. That means he must be removed office immediately. Failure to do so opens the door to sheer disaster and that is exactly what we are looking at everyday he remains office. Disaster." INDEPENDANT, ALABAMA

"After World War 2, our allies respected the United States. Mr Trump has destroyed this respect. Now, our once-firm allies are looking to go around the United States and put their countries first. This will result in a race to the bottom. Trump has diminished the US - and succeeded in making China and Russia great. However, it’s important to remember the this isn’t just Mr. Trump. The vast majority of Republicans like what Mr Trump does, not seeing the damage and reveling in his tough-guy rhetoric. When the damage becomes too obvious to ignore, they’ll say that Trump was’t really a Republican (as they did with George W Bush) They will also, of course, blame Democrats for the consequences of Republican policies. Pity that Republicans, including Mr Trump, seem incapable of taking responsibility for their own actions."JOHN M, OAKLAND

"For Trump, the sun rises and sets in himself. He cannot conceive of anything without inserting himself somehow. He cannot make any move without calculating how it will benefit him personally. The farthest from what a leader should be."NM, NY

"In my more than 60 years I have never experienced a President who truly believed the nation, the American people, excluded all who did not support him. Nor millions of my neighbors who were fine with that idea if they considered themselves as part of that group of supporters. This, to me, is among the most dangerous things which this man has unleashed. My disappointment in my neighbors goes very deep. We will get past Trump, but not the millions of our fellows who like him."DAGWOOD, SAN DIEGO

"Countries can tragically and suddenly head in the wrong direction. In the 1930s, Germans were the most educated in Europe with Berlin the leading city in Europe. Ten years later, the country and most of Europe was destroyed. 75 million dead. It can happen here." SOMEWHERE, AZ

"I have a hard time seeing where it is all personal with Trump. He is faithfully carrying out two agendas, one of the white nationalists and one of the extreme libertarians. It is hard to tell how much of his rolling back of Obama's accomplishments are personal and how much is agenda driven. There seems little question that Trump will have done permanent damage. Western countries will no long be able to trust the US again as they did in the past as another Trump could be elected in any future election. It cannot be quantified how much he has set back efforts to fight climate change but it would seem to be considerable. Can white nationalism be put back in the bottle? That seems unlikely. Trump has uncorked some of the worst stuff in the US population. It is anybody's guess whether the country can return to its previous level of civility." BOB, HUDSON VALLEY

"In the same address Washington also spoke about the three big threats that could destroy America: too much debt, influence of foreign interests and political partisanship. hmmmm" AERYS

"People keep trying to find rational explanations for Trump's behavior. I don't think he generally acts from anything more complicated than going with what makes him feel good. He, and those around him, often say that when he feels attacked, he punches back. That is consistent with a lot of the strange things he has done. Punching back makes him feel strong and he likes that feeling. The problem is that governing is complicated. If Trump's feelings are hurt, he seems to feel justified in throwing a temper tantrum. That tendency to bluster in an effort to intimidate may work for male gorillas, but leaders of governments ought to know better." BETTY S, UPSTATE NY

“The U.S. presidency is term-limited.” The US presidency was term-limited. Does anyone really think he’s joking when he talks about being in office another 10 or 14 years? He’s not going to leave willingly. The bottom line here might end up being whether the military will support his coup."

CLAIRE ELLIOTT, EUGENE OR

"Rather than making America great again, 45 has made America a second rate country. Our allies no longer trust us to keep our word. Our enemies see that our leadership is faltering. It will take years perhaps decades to regain the trust we once enjoyed throughout the world. People see that 45 has not thought out anything he says past the current news cycle. There is no vision for America, no grand plan, nothing."

PSCHWIMER

"Now that this "president" has decided that he has the authority to order America's private businesses to cease all operations in China (which would entail crippling a great many of them financially), it seems to me that the 25th Amendment truly needs to be invoked. Which is to say that the walking apparition named Mike Pence should visit the Oval Office along with the leaders of both houses of Congress and as many of Trump's cabinet members as can be rustled up and tell our delusional chief executive that he has no such authority over private industry and that he should immediately and publicly acknowledge this. He should also explain that the order he had delivered was intended only as a suggestion or a recommendation. Should he refuse to go along with this, it would be clear that he's fully entered the realm of madness (as his private obsession with China would already seem to indicate) and that his removal from office would thereby become necessary. If we weren't already at such a critical juncture we could spend a good deal of time discussing Trump's own business connections with Beijing and arguing that his preference for having his (and Ivanka's) branded merchandise produced there should dictate that he not impugn other American business executives for doing the same thing (let alone "order" them to cease doing so). It's too late for idle speculation, however. Mad King Donald really has to go." STU FREEMAN, BROOKLYN

"I have to think that Washington's words would be met by Trump with blank incomprehension, not merely because the language is hard (by comparison with Trump's own "cartoon-bubble" mode of communication) but because understanding it would require Trump to betray his own most firmly-held convictions." PORTLAND, OR

"Thank you, Mr. Blow, for another strong column. This president's bizarre behaviors have led to complete demoralization and discouragement for U.S. citizens. How can a powerful country be so feckless when it comes to getting him out? Someone commented that the 25th amendment wouldn't work because it's for cases of complete incapacity. I assume they mean physical incapacity. In the case of mental/emotional incapacity, does a President have to be drooling and catatonic, or fly into a rage on television? Is it not enough that he lies constantly, proposes buying another country, frequently insults allies, calls himself the chosen one, decrees that private businesses shall exit China, and flip-flops in divergent directions on important national policies during the same 24-hour period? If it were another president in another time, members of Congress would have taken Trump in hand and led him away to restore order and standing to our country. But no, Congress is on vacation and Trump golfs while the Amazon burns."GWOO, HONOLULU

"The Greenland episode is classic Trump: throw out a crazy initial offer and see what happens. But international politics is not pure business. Greenland was never up for sale by Denmark. Trump's behavior makes him look wholly irrational and by extension makes the American voting public look like a population of fools. Trump displays isolationism with "America First." Other countries should take this seriously. In fact, they should quarantine the United States. They should do so until America can figure out how to elect a sane president and a stable cast of supporting legislators in Congress. Indeed Trump has a penchant for calling those he dislikes "nasty," but that term is reserved for women in power, such as HRC and the prime minister of Denmark. Trump befriends ruthless dictators in countries like North Korea, Russia and Saudi Arabia -- leaders who actively torture and kill their people -- without referring to them in this way. Trump is also already backtracking on China. He will not let the economy crumble before the election: after all, it's his only real "selling point." Trump maintains a particular disdain for Obama because he is black and Trump is an overt racist, as demonstrated by violations of the Fair Housing Act in the 1970s to the Central Park Five to birtherism to Charlottesville to the Squad. The election next year is bound to be a close one. Do what you can to see that Trump does not win a second term."

BLUE MOON, OLD PUEBLO

#politics #trump news #trumpism #trump scandals #trump administration #president donald trump #greeland #impeachment inquiry now #impeach trump #impeachthemf #impeachtrump #u.s. news #u.s. presidential elections #g7 #g7biarritz #trump trade war

[starswornoaths]

A Quiet Lunch

a Ko-Fi story for the lovely @ahlis-xiv, posted with her permission! Thank you again for the support, hon! <3

A quiet lunch, between companions, under the cut just cause it’s a little lengthy.

The small café held a warm, cozy atmosphere, and though Ahlis was far from home, she found the tension in her shoulders easing by degrees as she took in her surroundings. In the soft lighting of the paper lanterns strung about the establishment, the faces of the other patrons were a little hard to make out, but eventually, she spied the woman she was looking for, sitting at a table further in the back of the room, reading through a menu. With a small smile, Ahlis began to weave her way through the tables toward her.

“Serella,” Ahlis greeted as she drew near. The elezen looked up, startled. “Thanks for grabbing a table for us.”

“Ahlis!” Serella said, beaming as she stood to properly greet her companion. “It’s so good to see you!” The two women clasped hands in greeting before Serella gestured to the free seat across from her. “Sit, sit, I’ll pour us tea- the pot’s still plenty hot.”

“Ah, thank you,” Ahlis said around a soft sigh and eased herself into a seat. She quirked a brow as Serella began to set the cups out and pour into the one set in front of Ahlis. “I promise I can pour my own.”

“Oh, I know that,” Serella laughed softly, topping off Ahlis’ cup before pouring her own. “I just have it on good authority that custom here demands that you pour other’s tea before your own.” She shrugged as she sat back down and returned the teapot to its place. “And considering I urged you to come enjoy lunch with me, I figured it’d be polite.”

“Settling in here, then?” Ahlis asked with a tilt of her head.

“In Kugane? Gods, no,” Serella chuckled, shaking her head. “Place gives me a headache walking around in daylight. Too loud, and loud looking for my tastes.” She shrugged a shoulder. “Still, only polite to observe customs where you’re at, y’know?”

“I suppose that’s fair.” Ahlis conceded, taking an offered menu with a soft word of thanks. “Hmm…anything look good to you?” She asked as she began to skim the options available

“I was debating on this spicy udon I’ve been hearing so much about.” Serella said, returning her gaze to her own menu and taking a long drink from her cup. “I’m a fan of udon as it is, and if it clears up my nose? More’s the better.”

“Your nose bothering you?” Ahlis asked as she sipped at her tea.

She had noticed Serella sounded somewhat nasally but opted not to comment- she was a grown woman, and if she was ill, she would have said as much.

“Unfortunately.” Serella said, sighing.

They settled on their orders, and politely flagged a passing waitress down to order. Once their menus were cleared, Serella poured them each more tea.

“We could have worked out a different day if you were sick.”

“Around both our busy schedules?” Serella sniffed. “We’d sooner see Coerthas thaw, most like.” They shared a snicker at the thought. “Besides,” she waved a hand. “I’m not sick, per se- spring allergies are getting to me, so my nose plugged up.”

“And…spicy food is the remedy?” Ahlis asked with a tilt of her head.

“Dunno.” The Paladin said around a shrug. “Given I ordered the hottest udon they’ve got, it’ll either kill me or clear up my nose.” She drained her cup and poured herself another. “Either way, I won’t have the sniffles anymore.”

“Do you… have a tolerance for spicy food?” Ahlis asked hesitantly. Serella made an ‘eeehh’ sound and rocked her hand left and right in a noncommittal gesture. “…If you die, I’m not paying for your meal.”

“My wallet’s in my right pocket, just in case I do.” Serella said with a laugh.

Their dishes were set in front of them- and Ahlis became increasingly worried about Serella just looking at the bowl of soup placed in front of her.

“Is…is it supposed to be that red?” The mage asked, her own chopsticks hovering above her meal as she eyed her companion’s meal- a soup with a broth red enough that she was half tempted to check to see if it had been poisoned.

“Probably.” Serella said with a shrug before happily slurping some noodles into her mouth.

“And…you don’t worry about what that might do to you?” Ahlis asked, struggling not to laugh.

“That’s a problem for future me.” Serella said with a dismissive hand wave, helping herself to some of the spicy dodo meat and broth.

“Noted.” The mage fought the urge to roll her eyes, even as she smiled and began to tuck into her meal. She hummed as the taste of the first bite settled on her tongue, and her stomach suddenly remembered that she was, in fact, hungry. “I hadn’t realized how desperately I needed food.” She admitted once she’d finished her mouthful.

“Happens to me a lot, too,” Serella admitted. “Does casting take a lot out of you? It always looks like it takes a lot of energy to do.”

“Casting a spell or two? Not so much.” Ahlis explained as she enjoyed more of the rice that came with her meal. “But the sustained kind of casting that is typical for combat? Absolutely.” She tilted her head to the side and regarded the woman across from her. “You are a spellcaster as well, are you not? I’ve seen some of the reports.”

“Occasionally.” Serella admitted. “But I always felt like I was doing it wrong when I felt like my limbs were made of jelly afterward.” She shrugged. “I wondered if that was normal, or if I was just bad at it.”

“You can build up an endurance, after a fashion.” Ahlis set her chopsticks down and sipped at her tea. “Though only by so much- with matters of the arcane, one can only push so far for so long before lasting damage is done.”

“I suppose might and magic are not so different studies, then,” Serella said around a thoughtful hum. “At least, in that regard.”

“Is Clemency not a spell, then? Or Holy Spirit?” Ahlis asked, frowning. “I know you are a healer when you are not otherwise wielding a sword and shield, but I had thought it would be considered so.”

“Ah, put simply?” Serella began, blowing gently on her next awaiting bite of food. “Paladin’s are fucking weird.”

“Oh?” Ahlis drawled sarcastically. “I would have never guessed.”

“I’m no marker for Paladin temperament— I’m referring to our art,” Serella laughed. She took the cooled bite of her food, finishing it before she continued to explain, “our ‘magic,’ still pulls on aether, still requires discipline in magic casting and the understanding of spells, but it’s considered a blessing, not a spell.”

“And the difference?” Ahlis asked, brows furrowed.

“Blessings are less of a, ‘hey, I’m taking this aether and turning into a thing,’ and more of a, ‘hey, can I pretty please take this aether and use it for a thing?’”

“Sounds arbitrary.”

“Woefully.” Serella agreed.

Ahlis thought to ask another question— learning new things about other disciplines interested her, after all— but noticed that Serella’s face was now somewhat flushed. The Paladin finished her bite of food and reached for a handkerchief in her armor, and began to gently dab at her nose with it.

“Are you alright?” Ahlis asked instead.

“Well, I suddenly remembered how it feels to breathe out of my right nostril, so that’s a plus.” Serella blew her nose as discreetly as she could. “I’d swear a thaumaturge was responsible for crafting this broth.”

“...Why?” Ahlis asked reluctantly.

“It’s making my nostrils Flare.” Even as she set her handkerchief down and busied herself with pouring more tea, it was clear that Serella was beaming from her joke.

“Do you take constructive criticism?” Ahlis asked her with an arch of her brow.

“Not when I’m off duty,” Serella responded around a mouthful of her meal.

“I’ll wait.” Ahis deadpanned.

Their conversation was lighter after that— one could only talk of work for so long before the topic changed to something more friendly. The two women enjoyed their meal, winding down from the stresses of their lives, and for a brief while, things were calm. Once they had paid for their meals and said their farewells, Ahlis made the short trek to the aetheryte attendant to pay her fee to teleport back to her office.

She busied herself with her work for a spell before tapping her linkpearl, hoping that she had timed the call right.

“Storm Lieutenant Arcbane speaking,” she heard Serella say on the other end of the call.

“I take it to mean that you’re on duty again?” Ahlis asked, trying to keep her smile out of her voice.

“I would be!” Serella said, her voice warming when she recognized Ahlis on the other end.

“Good.” Ahlis leaned back in her chair. “Because I’d like to submit a comment to you.”

“Oh?”

“I appreciate your companionship.” Ahlis began. “But I swear, your jokes are awful and you should feel shame for them.”

“Yeah, that’s fair.” Serella conceded.

The laughter they shared was boisterous, and Ahlis felt just a touch closer to the Paladin, even so far away.

#ahlis-xiv #thank you again for the support!! #ffxiv rp #Serella Arcbane #Ahlis Ildilayan #I want to thank Ahlis for putting up with Serella's puns #she has the patience of a saint #<3

[silverfootstepswrites]

title Restless summary Tossing and turning pairing itasaku, tobisaku, hot messes rating hide the children (M)

Part i | Part ii | Part iii | Part iv | Part v | Part vi | Part vii | Part viii | Part ix | Part x | Part xi | Part xii | Part xiii (here) | Part xiv | Part xv | Part xvi | Part xvii | Part xviii | Part xix | Part xx | Part xxi | Part xxii | Part xxiii | Part xxiv | Part xxv | Part xxvi | Part xxvii | Part xxviii | Part xxix | Part xxx | Part xxxi | Part xxxii | Part xxxiii | Part xxxiv | Part xxxv | Part xxxvi | Part xxxvii| Part xxxviii | Part xxxix | Part XL (it ends here)

Black puddled under their shoes. Sticky. Gleaming and reflecting the twisting neon lights. 

Tenten covered her nose with her sleeve as she looked around.  

“What the hell is this, Boss?” she hissed, head swiveling. Clanking noises echoed all around them. Steam hissing old pipes. The rusting metal warehouse groaning under its own weight. Sakura stopped walking, her fist hanging at her side. She said nothing. But her eyes were as hard as the corroding walls. After a moment, Tenten just nodded. And Sakura went on. Heels splashing through a liquid that neither of them wanted to name.

They ducked under a tangle of wires. The fluorescent lights looked like they had been ripped out of the ceiling. The black gaps that they left looked like they didn’t end- like a portal into an abyss.

When they rounded the corner, it opened up into a large open space. What had obviously been an important room in the warehouse. When its chief export had been something other than rats. Most of the machinery was long gone, leaving just a maze of dark and light patches to show where things had been. Long chains hung from the windows, their shadows casting ghastly shapes across the floor.

“Tobirama,” Sakura called out

In the middle of the room was a single wooden desk. Near it was a folding table and some matching chairs. There were some boxes of takeout clustered in the middle. Some mahjong tiles had been cleared up in a hurry. 

Tobirama was the one wearing a black wifebeater and a skull ring on his middle finger. It leered at her as she approached. Tobirama didn’t speak. Didn’t even ask how she had known to find him here. He rested his elbow on the desk, eyes following her with each step. Watching her with that almost-smile dancing in his gaze. Face blurred by smoke. 

She stopped a few steps away from the desk, arms crossed across her chest. Tenten lingered another few steps behind, her gaze flickering to the dimly-lit surroundings. Counting the number of men Tobirama had hiding in the shadowy walkways and corners. 

“Red Arrows were attacked by the Suns in Aberdeen last night. What are we going to do?” Sakura asked. Her perfectly-manicured nails rested on her upper arms.  Tobirama held her gaze.

“Is this a question or are you here to tell me what we’re going to do?” he queried in return, hand under his cheek. 

“You’re so smart,” she praised him. She held out her hand. Tobirama took his time exhaling before he handed over his cigarette. She beamed at him.

Tobirama didn’t smile back. His gaze flickered downwards. To her cream-colored mock-turtleneck and pink skirt. When he reached out, Tenten tensed. But Sakura didn’t seem to mind as he ran his fingers along her silver necklace. It was a simple chain with a star hanging from it. 

“Why are you dressed like an elementary school teacher?” he asked. Sakura raised an eyebrow. She held the cigarette between her middle and pointer finger. It rested against her ring, the smoldering end the same color as the ruby set in the band.

“Do you really think anyone would let me near their children?” she questioned in return. She let the smoke leak from her mouth as she spoke.

“No. Which is why I’m asking,” he insisted. Eyes narrowing. Piercing into her. Sakura pushed his hand away. And then she took another long drag from his cigarette. The edges of the paper turning crimson as her lipstick stained it.

“I met with some bigshot movie director. He wanted to sponsor his studio. I could hardly walk into a meeting dressed like.... that,” Sakura added, gesturing vaguely to him. And then she gave a hard poke to the tattoo of Guan Yu on his arm. 

“You should just show them off. It’s the easiest way to get things done in this town anyway,” suggested Tobirama. And he pointed toward her covered arms. 

“There’s a time and a place for that,” Sakura answered. As she turned her head, she saw the odd shapes by the window. Paused. Saw one stir in the non-existent breeze. Looked back to Tobirama. Noticed the red flecked across his chest.

Sakura looked down at her wristwatch. She glanced back at Tenten, who nodded. 

“And it’s actually time for me to go,” Sakura added. Smoke hissing out between her teeth, she glanced down at her hand. Leaning across the desk, she plucked the cigarette from her mouth and placed it in his instead. When they were this close, only she could have possibly seen all the unsaid things burning deep in his gaze. 

“Good night, Tobirama,” she said. And then she slid off the desk before he could say anything else. 

Tenten hurried after Sakura as she walked out of the room. 

“But you never actually asked him to deal with the Suns. Wasn’t that the point of your visit?” Tenten whispered. Sakura didn’t look at her. Kept her gaze fixed straight ahead as she walked.

“Tenten, didn’t you see what was by those windows?” asked Sakura in return. 

“What? Just some ropes or chains or something. Right?” 

Sakura glanced at her out of the corner of her eye.

“Those were people, Tenten. Tobirama was already dealing with it,” Sakura spelled out for her. Wished that the moonlight hadn’t come in just right to show off the faint shapes of that tormented face. There had to have been at least 3 people dangling from those chains. And she knew that Tenten was connecting the pieces now. Was figuring out that the foul black water in the halls was from Tobirama’s men hosing the floor down and pushing the fetid liquid into the corridors. 

“Do you think they’ve been there since last night?” Tenten wondered as they finally made their way out of the building. The car was waiting for them. The headlights making twin pools of light on the asphalt. 

“Most likely,” replied Sakura. Hating how it didn’t scare her anymore. How the smell of blood didn’t make her feel sick anymore.

“That guy seriously doesn’t scare you, Aunt Cheng? Aren’t you worried that someday he’ll do that to you?” asked Tenten. Sakura let out a long sigh. 

“I’d hope that he has the respect to at least kill me quickly.... if it ever came to that, I mean,” Sakura answered.

They didn’t say anything else as they got into the car. Zabuza glanced at them, but their faces must have told him something, because he didn’t ask for details. 

“Back to Central, Boss?” was the only thing he said. 

“Yeah,” sighed Sakura, “I’m getting a drink and then I’m going to bed.”

Itachi got a text from her. And as conversational as usual, all Sakura wrote was the name of a bar and its address. His hair was still damp by the time the taxi dropped him off. 

She was the only one sitting at the far corner of the bar. A single wine glass sat in front of her. Warmth settled over her shoulders before the chair next to her scraped across the floor. Itachi sat down, his arms almost touching hers. She looked down. His blazer was draped over her. His body heat still clung to the inner lining. 

Sakura said nothing as she watched Itachi. He held his hand up until the bartender walked over. And Itachi pointed at Sakura’s glass and then to himself. The bartender nodded, making himself scarce. 

He didn’t ask her why she hadn’t answered his texts. Didn’t ask why the bottoms of her shoes were stained dark red. They sipped their wine together in silence. And when their glasses were empty, Itachi placed money on the counter and got up. He held out his hand to her.

“Where are we going?” she inquired. She placed her palm in his. His fingers wrapped around her. 

“To my hotel,” answered Itachi.

“I’m not hungry,” Sakura answered, arm limp.

“Another drink. I’m not hungry either,” he replied. She said nothing.

“Just another drink. I swear,” Itachi repeated, his face solemn.

He ordered two glasses of red wine through room service. And Sakura sat nursing hers on the sofa. Staring at the blank TV screen. She listened to him taking off his tie and rolling up his sleeves again. Lifted her feet to tuck them under her legs. The sofa dipped a little when he sat down beside her. 

Letting out a deep sigh, Itachi placed his wine glass on the coffee table. She could feel his arm resting on the back of the sofa. Not quite touching her. 

“Will talking about it make you feel better?” Itachi asked after a while. Sakura looked into her glass. Gave it a swirl. 

“No,” she answered. Itachi considered that for a moment. 

“Is there anything I can do to help?” he tried again.

“No,” Sakura said again. Her voice flat. 

She didn’t resist when he took the wine from her. He placed it on the table, right next to his. 

Placing his hand on the side of her head, he pulled her closer. Until her head lowered to rest on his shoulder. His hand stroked over her hair, in a rhythm almost like the ocean. Ebb and flow. Ebb and flow. Soft and softly pulling her in. The drum of his heart the tempo that tethered her to the ground. 

When Sakura opened her eyes again, the room was completely dark. The fluffy grey throw that had been on the foot of the bed was now draped over her body. Sakura sat up. The lights blinking in from the rest of Hong Kong almost made her head hurt. There was a strange noise coming from the opposite end of the room. Sakura squinted in the dark. And as her eyes adjusted, she could see the shape of a man hunched over in the entrance.

“...Itachi?” she called. The noise stopped. He lifted his head. 

“Did I wake you? I’m sorry,” he said. He stood up. Walked over to her. She saw that he was holding her shoe in one hand, a towel in the other. The towel was smeared black and brown in places. But Itachi turned the shoe over. The pink leather gleamed in his grasp.

“I managed to get the other side pretty clean. This side is giving me some trouble,” he admitted with a sheepish laugh. Sakura stared at the shoe. Then up into his face.

“I can buy another pair,” she told him. Itachi looked surprised. He stared at her. Then down at the shoe.

“But then you have to go back in dirty shoes,” he pointed out. And when Sakura said nothing, he added in a smaller voice, “And it’s a shame. Because these look really beautiful when you wear them.”

Sakura rubbed the back of her neck, pulling the blanket up higher to cover her shoulders.

“You mean that they’re pretty shoes,” she corrected his grammar. When she met his eyes, there was something sharp in them.

“No. I mean that when they’re on your feet, they look beautiful,” he insisted.

Sakura couldn’t think of anything to say to him. Mouth slack, she simply looked at him. Unsure of how to respond. And then she shook her head, resting her head against her shoulder.

“Aren’t you embarrassed to say things like that? At all?” she questioned. And to her surprise, Itachi scowled. 

“Of course I am. Are you not hearing how stupid I sound?” he replied. When Sakura frowned back, he sighed. 

“But the point is that only you get to know that,” he said, pointing at her with the shoe. Sakura lifted her head. Glared at him.

“So you’ve got it all figured out now? You know exactly what to say and do and you know exactly how I’ll react?” 

Itachi chuckled. He dropped the shoe and the towel. Lowered himself to his knees in front of her. Pulling her hands from inside the blanket, he pressed them to his forehead.

“Not at all. Which is why I’ll say anything to get you to look at me,” declared Itachi. He kissed her palms before pressing them to his cheeks. 

“Is it working?” he asked. 

Sakura looked away. “Maybe.” She tried to pull away, but his grip tightened. She looked back at him. And he wasn’t smiling anymore.

“I’m serious, Haruno Sakura. Please, look at me,” he uttered. And the desperation in his tone made her face warm. The way he stared up at her made her feel embarrassed, somehow. She felt more exposed than if she had been naked right then and there. She pushed him away, crossing her arms over her chest. 

Itachi didn’t seem bothered at all. He sat on the floor in front of her, resumed wiping all the blood and grime off her shoes. Buffing and scrubbing away like it was his favorite thing to do. 

In the morning, she was gone, along with her clean shoes. Itachi jolted awake. And his first instinct wasn’t even to call out her name. Somehow, he had known that she wouldn’t be there. He moved to the bathroom to wash his face with cold water. But stopped when he saw the mirror. A red kiss was left on his mouth, off-center so that it smeared past his lips. He stared at it for a long time. Running his hands over it until it stained his fingers like blood.

Sakura found Tobirama in the back of the karaoke club. It was completely deserted this early in the morning. Even the usual cronies guarding the door were missing. Tobirama’s bloodshot eyes and the shadows under them told the story of a long, sleepless night. She locked the door behind her before saying anything. Tobirama lifted his head, expression wary. As he got to his feet, Sakura pushed him back down. He glared up at her. 

“What’re you here to complain about now?” he demanded. 

But when he took another look at her face, he simmered down. Because she didn’t look like she had slept any better than he had. Mascara smudged, normally perfect hair tangled and flat. Her lipstick was fading away in places. And when he looked closer, he realized that she was wearing the same clothes from yesterday. 

“Jing-Mei- hey!” He grabbed her wrists when she unzipped his pants. She stood there, shoulders trembling. Tears began to drip down her face, and she didn’t even try to hide them. 

“Yau mou gau cho ah?” Tobirama complained, his head falling back against the old sofa. Because he really did wonder what was wrong with her sometimes. The both of them, actually. Sighing, he released her hands. 

“When you come to your senses, don’t blame me for this, okay?” he warned her. He stared up at the dirty ceiling, tracing the water stains. Gritting his teeth when her mouth, hot and wet, closed around him. The sounds that filled the room came straight from a porno, but Tobirama just couldn’t shake the guilt. Had to pretend not to notice when her tears continued to drip down her face. He came in her mouth with a shudder. 

Their eyes met. Hers sad and watery like old absinthe. She stood up, wiping her lips on the back of her hand. The mascara blurred into her tears, her eyelids blackening. 

“Fuck me up,” she whispered. She rubbed her palm against her eyelid. Her hand came away smeared with black and iridescence.

“Jing-Mei...” Tobirama sighed. But she grasped the front of his shirt. Clinging so pitifully. The tears falling freely now, landing on his knee. 

“... You don’t want to?” she asked. Almost like a child in the way she sounded so hurt. He hated that about her. How she could twist into the cracks in his heart like that. Hated how that wide-eyed stare really hadn’t changed in all the years he had known her. Gritting his teeth, Tobirama grasped her wrist.

“I’m not going to be nice,” he warned her. She didn’t blink.

“I don’t want you to be,” she replied.

He shoved her down onto the sofa. Ripped her panties aside and wrinkled her nice skirt. Slammed into her from behind. And her cries were lost in the creaking leather. Her hands clenching into the peeling upholstery. Her tears falling harder and harder. And he was glad for the position he had chosen. Just so that she wouldn’t see the tears gathering in his eyes too.

His clawing fingers found her shoulders. Tore her shirt too. As he desperately sought what was underneath. Skin a white canvas. The black koi on her back glowering up at him like some judgmental god. The wet sounds from between her legs drowned by her panting hiccups. And he hated every inch of his skin more and more with each passing second. His angry hands left red marks on her hips and thighs. That he knew would turn to bruises that she would later run her fingers over with fascination.

As she twisted, the tiger on her left arm laughed at him, open jaws mocking that ugliness of it all. It knew what he was and pitied him for it all.

He came inside without thinking. Forgot to ask if she was still on the pill. Thighs still trembling, she pulled a cigarette out of her jacket pocket and lit it without looking at him. Her face disappearing in a haze of ash and nicotine.

He drove her to one of her apartments in silence. She wore his jacket over her torn clothing. And her gaze came nowhere near him. Fixated on still-sleeping Hong Kong rushing past the windows.

The car stopped in front of the apartment complex. 

“Any word on the Suns?” Sakura asked, opening the car door. 

“No.”

“Let me know when you find something,” she said. And then she was on the sidewalk. In the lobby. The elevator. Inside her apartment. Sliding down the back of the door, feeling as ugly as she had ever felt. So dirty inside and out with just her pink shoes gleaming so perfectly. The kitchen tile was cold. 

Her phone let out a cheerful little chime. 

She lifted the screen up to her face. 

Didn’t it feel better to go home in clean shoes? Have you had breakfast yet?

She almost laughed. Pushed the green phone button next to his name. He picked up after the first ring. 

“Now this feels backwards. To what do I owe this pleasure already?” Itachi asked. Putting his voice on speaker, Sakura set the phone on the floor next to her. Closing her aching eyes, she rested her forehead on her knees.

“...Sakura?” he called into her silence. 

“Would you just...talk for a bit?” she requested in a small voice. He didn’t ask any more questions. Just began talking about his younger brother and the most mundane topics. HIs words blurred together, softening the edges of the piercing quiet.

Part i | Part ii | Part iii | Part iv | Part v | Part vi | Part vii | Part viii | Part ix | Part x | Part xi | Part xii | Part xiii (here) | Part xiv | Part xv | Part xvi | Part xvii | Part xviii | Part xix | Part xx | Part xxi | Part xxii | Part xxiii | Part xxiv | Part xxv | Part xxvi | Part xxvii | Part xxviii | Part xxix | Part xxx | Part xxxi | Part xxxii | Part xxxiii | Part xxxiv | Part xxxv | Part xxxvi | Part xxxvii| Part xxxviii | Part xxxix | Part XL (it ends here)

#eastern suns #itasaku #tobisaku #triad!sakura x yakuza!itachi #writing #pls tobirama my child stop hurting me like this #triad!au

[alexilulu]

10 Games I Played in 2017, Roughly Ranked

This is wildly long lol so have fun, idiots

#10: DESTINY 2

This is sort of awkward. Destiny 1 was a game I enjoyed with small reservations; it was obvious how hampered they were by their own backend in creating new content and design spaces to explore, prior to The Taken King. Even then, it had shining moments of joy for me. I adored the goofy dead ghost hunting like halo 2/3 skullfinding, using every trick at your dispoaal to find another morsel of insane, well-crafted tidbits of lore for this world that the game itself rarely even touched on, let alone explored. Destiny 2 was supposed to be the "we listened and we're fixing it" for that game, and a needed jump to a new backend that would free them to create the things they dreamed of.

The grimoire was removed wholesale, those bits of lore still true presumably but inaccessible in the game again. Instead of finding ghosts, you examine objects in the world, getting a 2-sentence Nolan North quip that usually is more funny than it is educational about this sprawling world they created. And it doesn't save that anywhere. We actually moved backwards in term of the lore's accessibility to the player, somehow. The game itself is still Destiny, helmet popping and aiming down sights and kicking balls around the tower, and it's storyline was ambitious in a way the original was not, actually making you feel at least a little weak for about 10 minutes before you're back to killing Fallen and then doing donuts on your Sparrow on top of their corpse. The game treats itself as both too serious and totally unserious in the same breath, a monologue of serious consequences punctuated by Cayde cradling a chicken and petting it gently. It's good, but it remains to see if it'll reach the same comfortable spot Destiny 1 got to by the end of it's lifespan.

9: NIOH Here's where I admit that some of these games I've played, in that I played it for a few hours and haven't had time to return to it. I have it on good faith that Nioh is an incredible game, and from the bits I've touched I know that to be at least probably true. I've heard it described more as a Diablo-esque loot-game pretending to be a Dark Souls ball-busting difficulty monster than vice versa. It's something I'm hoping to come back to, and if I'd been able to spend more time with, I likely would have put much further up the list.

8: Dishonored: Death of the Outsider Another game I fuckin' haven't had time to complete, Death of the Outsider is the thing I and several friends have wanted for years; Billie Lurk fucking shit up. And her powerset rules. I'm only like 2 missions in, but I'm looking forward to finishing the rest sometime before Christmas, hopefully. Dishonored 2 was definitely a game I was thrilled to play, and I know this will be more of the same.

7: Resident Evil 7 What could be better than the creeping horror of a deranged family out in the Louisiana Bayou? Resident Evil 7 was honestly so unbelievably effective at learning from the last 5+ years of immersive horror games while still, at it's heart, being a goofy Resident Evil game under that. That style clashes at times; The moment when you go outside to the courtyard of the mansion and find a double-keycard locked door when the most advanced thing in the whole house before now has been the goofy projector-doors that hearken back to the ancient history of the series. I think it sticks it's landing well, with a good lategame twist and plenty of goofy superscience in between. I've been meaning to go back to it for the Chris Redfield DLC, but I don't know if I actually want to, to be honest. That game was a fun ride, and they did their best to add the usual replay stuff like a NG+ gun and such, but I think I'm okay leaving it where I left it, on good terms.

6: Tacoma I bought the hoodie that came with a LUNAR TRANSFER STATION TACOMA patch Fullbright sold long before that game had it's transformation following feedback from beta testers, and I never stopped looking forward to it coming out. Gone Home was like a...I won't say formative, because it isn't true, but it was definitive for me. A story about two girls falling in love together doesn't come around that often, and the attention to the setting and feel of being in this old, deeply lived in house. Tacoma shows that same love of character and place in spades, giving you an even more intimate look at the world the crew of the Tacoma lived in together. I honestly lost it when I noticed during a scene that next door, their cat was asleep on the shelf above the laundry machine. Just the smallest details and love shown for everyone involved broke my heart and put it back together in a different shape. A vision of a world utterly fucked by corporatist greed such that they are essentially their own extragovernmental entities, and people live on anyway, just being people. It's so sad, but still sort of hopeful? Even if the world is garbage, people will keep on living as best as they can. It's very millennial of myself to find solace in that idea, honestly, but that's this game for you, one crafted based on the excesses of the last decade spiraling out of control.

5: Final Fantasy XIV: Stormblood In any other year, this game would be #1. You're gonna hear me say that a few more times here before we're done. Final Fantasy 14 has been a constant in my life for the last 3 years, delivering again and again the sort of joy that only comes from a game lovingly made by people dedicated to their own love of the genre, the setting and their playerbase. That's the only way I can describe it, lovingly crafted. Naoki Yoshida loves this game, and so does his team, and every inch of that game radiates this. The storyline itself is a little meandering, jumping from a failed revolution to formenting a successful one, to returning triumphant with new armies and allies at your back. Everyone in that game is, again, a joy to be around. It has a somewhat similar roadtrip feel to Heavensward, but never treads the same ground in the same way. It's more like...taking your friend abroad to another country, while Heavensward was a road trip across a state that stops and starts in fits and spurts. I don't know if this expansion will hold my attention in the same way that Heavensward did, or that A Realm Reborn did. I don't know if I have that part of myself that's willing to ride with an MMO across the lifetime of it's expansion this time. I want to support this game, and the people who make it, and my friends who do still ride with it. But this might be my last expansion.

4: Tales of Berseria If this came out any other year, it might be my game of the year. You'll hear that 2 more times before we're done. I've never been a Tales person. I know people who are, and I understand the mystique, but I never Understood it until repeated praise (and some very cute lesbian ship art) forced my hand into buying it. I don't know if I'm gonna be ok when I finish it. The game is very baldly about doing bad things. The protagonist is a demon on a blatantly self-destructive revenge quest against the self-appointed savior of the world, aided by a demon swordsman who wants to kill his brother, a witch with existentially depressed ennui, a boy who barely knows who he is, a pirate cursed to bring ruin to those around him, and a pure maiden with a tragic backstory trying to do good in the world who has fallen in with them through a series of missteps so comic they're mostly just sad. Together, this totally uncohesive group of misfits abandoned by the world, rejecting it and destroying everything that stands in their way. It crushes my heart on the regular. This is definitely a 60+ hour JRPG because I just got to hour 20 and there's absolutely still so much left to go. They've introed villain after villain, placing the shotgun on the mantelpiece for Velvet to mangle herself with just to kill them in the blast. This game breaks my heart. The world it's in is awful, every party member has been utterly ruined by some facet of it that happened to conflict with a totally normal thing they wanted. They're the devil's rejects. And I love every single one of them.

3: Butterfly Soup Remember all the praise I gave Gone Home back there? This game is like that for me this year. You can just make a game about some queer girls playing baseball and being in love, and I'll love it with all my heart. It's not hard for me to peg why I love it; Akarsha is like a fucking mirror pointed directly at my face with a moustache painted on it, Diya's anxiety and gay panic is so deeply relatable that I very nearly cried the first time she said the word Lesbian to herself and immediately tried to convince herself she's not gay. Brianna Lei's depiction of young, messy, goofy girls living with all the problems that happen to kids their age; insane parents, abuse, self-discovery, a lot of bad jokes and getting all too real at a moment's notice. I honestly cannot wait to see what else she can bring to the table.

1 (TIE): NieR: Automata If this game came out any other year, it would be #1 without effort. The original NieR did something at just the right time, with just the right amount of feeling. A rejection of the trend of father figures rescuing their child and getting the good ending, NieR was a quest to protect a girl to the detriment of everyone around the protagonist, including the girl herself. The final ending of that game ends with you erasing yourself from the world so that you never existed, to save someone who deserves to live and would have if not for you. NieR's destructive quest to protect his daughter literally destroys the world around him, disrupting millennia of careful planning and manipulation by people far smarter than him. All because they took his daughter. Damn the world, he wanted what was his. NieR: Automata follows another 10,000 years after that, in the same world, scarred by a war that broke out centuries ago. The game frequently lies to both you the player and you the protagonist, but the protagonist already knows better, and simply doesn't let on. The game focuses, instead, on the ways that something built by humans craves to become like its long-gone masters. Androids are built to be physically ideal, sexy and at times loving to one another, because that's what humans did. It's unclear if they chose this for themselves or if humans did it to them (and obviously Yoko Taro chose for them to be like this, human choice or no), but it's how they live. The machines they fight do the same, playing a phone game across millennia of what humanity was, trying to fill the holes in their life with gender binaries, sexual intercourse, children and family and love. What separates them from us? Are we any different? Do we deserve to be different? Do they? I don't know how to talk about this game coherently. There's so much there. People recently have been talking about it again, as lists like these come up, and so many bad takes are floating around that it crushes my heart. 2B's sexy, so the game is horny. It's bad because you have to replay it 5 times (no, wrong, bad). It's bad because 9S is a softboy and 2B could have been a lesbian with any of the women throwing themselves at her (come on, dude, at least try). I'm not gonna try to rebut any of these, because the game itself doesn't need my defense. It stands on its own. It's the best game I've played in the last 5 years, in all likelihood. It's definitely my favorite of the last decade.

1 (TIE): Persona 5 If this game came out on any other year, it would be #1 with a bullet. This game had an insanely tortured development cycle. Pushed back again, then again, then again. Remember that February 2012 graphic that used to go around, and likely will right around Valentine's Day? Characters were revamped, removed, redesigned 5 times in the case of Haru (who started out as a boy, somehow). But it's exactly the game I needed in 2017. I was a transplant in Texas in 2004, going into high school in a new state where we knew no-one and nobody. I was quiet, spending most of my time outside class reading the 6th Dark Tower novel, Song of Susannah, a 2 inch thich hardcover beast. Because it's high school, rumors started about whatever they thought I was because I was quiet and wore a hoodie to school regardless of the weather, hiding guns or knives or what have you. Akira's experience touched me, in ways I never thought I would be a decade after graduating. Shit, everyone touched me in some way. Yusuke's quiet acceptance of the abuse and labels applied to him by his teacher and his fellow students. Futaba's isolation in the wake of her mother's death hit me in the heart; I dropped out of college when my own mother had a spinal cord fusion in her lumbar spine that ruined her life, left her with 10% her previous mobility. I mourned for years. Haru's quiet demeanor and the immediate, effusive joy she displayed whenever she could be with her friends, no matter the context. Ryuji's bristling rage at authority that ridicules him. Even the side cast struck me in ways Persona 4 and 3 never did. Kawakami's tiredness with the world, her exploitation she brushes off as a fact of life. Takemi's cool acceptance of being forced from the job of her dreams into treating bruises and being blackballed by the world she worked to survive in. Sojiro's struggles with cruel family that would destroy the daughter he loves as his own. Persona 5 is a game about the ways that society is designed to strike down the odd man out, casting them aside as worthless or ridiculous. The simple girl run into a cult, the daughter of a model forced into a role she never asked for, the typecast and the downtrodden, who deserve so much better than the world they've been given. This is a deeply flawed game. Within hours of Ryuji standing side by side with Ann to defend her from the casual sexism of Kamoshida or any other number of aggressions, he becomes a slavering hound doing the same thing to his best friend. The writing, when it's not inconsistent, simply isn't there; Haru's final and rather grand entrance peters off into maybe a dozen lines she has in the main story following her introduction. 6+ years in development can do some bad stuff to a game. But I love it, despite all of that. I can see what this game could have been, with a less tortured development, with a director who didn't ask the character design to make all of the female confidants "cuter". With a more focused vision, a clearer goal, and a better route there. All of that said, I still love my satanic crime ring. And I probably always will.

[finiarels]

Sakanatachi No Love Song -CHAPTER XIV.5

Summary: A Nogizaka46 fanfiction based on Sakanatachi No Love Song MV

Main Pairing: Shiraishi Mai X Nishino Nanase

~Happy Birthday Maiyan~

[Read on JPH!P]

Chapter XIV.5 - The Beginning  -

You know there are moments in your life when you’re just so sleepy that nothing could help to prevent your eyes from glued shut. Nishino Nanase is currently struggling with it, most of the times whenever this kind of situation is happening she would just give up and let the land of dream take over her, however, today is different. To be precise, tonight is different. Her school is known for their festival, unlike most of another school who will hold it once a year, hers does it twice a year. As if once is not already troublesome enough. However, this is her first senior high school festival so Nishino is more excited than usual, especially because almost every single student in her class decided to have a sleepover in the school instead of going home. However there she was still awake past midnight, trying to finish painting on a big board that would later get exhibited in her class. A part of her regretted her decision to accept her classmates request, she should have disagreed with them when they suddenly came up with the idea of changing their class into a hipster café with graffiti across the walls. Nishino sighed and took a step back from the huge board, her arms started to hug herself in instinct to keep herself warm from the chilly night wind. She frowned when she realizes that it doesn’t look as good as she had in mind. Well, to be honest almost everything that she makes always feels like nowhere near what she has in mind. She sits on the ground, her eyes drifted to several papers beside her. Leaning her body back to where the wall is she holds up one of the paper and intently observe her initial design, trying to come up with an idea to improve the supposed to be finished work with something that still within her skill range. However slowly her pace decreased leaving her surrendering to her heavy eyelids. She felt like a minute barely even passed once she opens her eyes once more. Scrubbing her eyes with the back of her hands she halted when she notices the velvet coat on her lap. It’s definitely not hers since she only brought her hoodie which has never left her body ever since she left her house yesterday morning. She pulls the coat up with her hands so she could inspect it better, the material is really soft and warm, it also sparks a sweet fragrance. From the brand alone she could tell that this coat doesn’t belong to either of her best friends and most likely not her classmate either because surely a coat as captivating as this wouldn’t escape her eyes. Tearing off her focus from the garment she could hear a soft sound of footsteps coming from the other side of the place. She couldn’t see the person because the huge boards that she’s using to paint basically circling her, making a small room for her to be able to work without prying eyes. Nishino stands up, stretching her body a bit before started to approach the sound. Standing across of her with the moonlight shone over her school uniform is Shiraishi Mai. Before today she already knew how beautiful the older girl is, but not before this time Nishino stand frozen upon seeing the girl. She would never forget the way the moon seems to work in her favor, shooting its mesmerizing light exactly in the right way as the girl spun under it, her eyes glued to the paper on her hands, while her mouth moved yet inaudible most likely reciting the lines written. The wind blow harshly, causing the girl chestnut hair to wave wildly and distract her view, the girl let out a soft laugh as she wiped the silly strands away, tucking it behind her ears. She folded the paper in her hands and look straight to where Nishino is. “Look who’s awake,” her voice broke Nishino off her trance. Awkwardly the younger girl approaches her, unconsciously holding the coat closer to her body in an attempt to protect herself from the cold wind, “umm… Is this yours, senpai?” “If I hadn’t come back then, you’d be freezing by now, kouhai,” she replied without an actual answer of the question and smirked, “you’re so careless to fell asleep on the roof, the snow time may have passed but it’s still winter. I’m pretty sure they have said something about using the roof in the night is forbidden, that was for your own good, you know?” Nishino clenched her teeth, a part of her should have realized that it was a bit foolish for her to show up. The last thing she needs is getting reprimanded for breaking the school rules. However, she looked at the upperclassman with a slight frown, “but you’re also not supposed to be here.” “Well I believe in the saying, ‘rules are meant to be broken’. Nevertheless, unlike me, you look like someone who would try to avoid getting in a trouble,” she actually was not expecting the younger girl to call her out. “You know what? Let’s make a deal where I will act like this has never happened and in exchange, you will help me rehearsing a script.” She was tempted to point out the fact that the older girl is also breaking the rule so it should be even if both of them should just keep this a secret, however by the girl sentence she has a feeling that she wouldn’t be bothered if the school finds out that she’s disobeying them. “Okay, but I am warning you that I’m bad with acting,” Nishino said as she held out the coat for the girl to take it back, however, the older girl shook her head. “You should wear it, for now, you need it more than me,” she rejected as she hands her one of the script on her hand. Nishino looks at the other girl attire for a moment, even though Shiraishi is wearing a cardigan is still thin and the scarf around her neck isn’t exactly going to help her to keep her body warm. “It’s fine, senpai. This is yours,” Nishino said. “My hoodie is enough to keep me warm.” Shiraishi raised her eyebrows and finally took the coat from the underclassman's hands, wearing it swiftly and started to loosen her scarf afterward. Nishino was too fascinated by how the coat seems to look even more perfect on Shiraishi as if that was specially designed for the girl. She was too immersed in observing the other girl movement that she was one step behind from realizing the girl intention, she can feel her heat increasing as the older girl lay her dark blue scarf around Nishino, “fine, but at least take this. It’s going to be bad if you caught a cold.” Nishino was too dazed to say anything and ended up nodding stiffly as Shiraishi smiled widely upon noticing her embarrassment, “now, can you please help me to recite the line on the 3rd page. You just have to read the Kazuma part, don’t need to worry about intonation or anything. I will be reading the Viina part.” “O-okay,” Nishino replied as she nervously turns the page into the correct one. The older girl patiently waited until she finally settled before starting to read her line. Albeit Nishino stammered so many times, Shiraishi has never shown her disapproval or disappointment she would patiently wait until the junior finished the sentence before swiftly moving into action as if Nishino did everything perfectly. Nishino thinks that it must have looked weird, how she just stiffly read the line while sitting down on the bench while Shiraishi will respond will all her might. She doesn’t know what gotten into her but she suddenly stood up, facing Shiraishi and try to say the line just as the script point out. Seeing this Shiraishi broke the character for a moment to smiled a little as an approval. So there they were, reciting line by line, taking step by step to circle each other. Even though Nishino’s nervousness still apparent it doesn’t bother the girl anymore. Well, to be exact, she doesn’t have time to be nervous anymore since the more she read the lines the more she got lured into the storyline. The story isn’t exactly one that she has heard before, it’s about a young spirit who serves as a Goddess familiar, which sometime later he began to fall for her as the Goddess is not only beautiful but kind and free-spirited. However, her kindness prone to be her downfall and he tried to save her from it to the point of betraying her. At the last scene, he who had been banished for his treason got reunited with the Goddess again. And as he said his apology to her the Goddess embrace him and them- WAIT Nishino halted as she realizes the scene that they’re doing right now, mentally scolding herself for getting too immersed in the story and not preparing herself beforehand. However, there she was, kneeling in front of Shiraishi. She didn’t realize it before but Shiraishi surely fit the role a lot as she has a certain elegance and composure that could be a bit terrifying for a normal person. Nishino held out her right hand towards her, gulping down her nervousness before speaking the line, “if I may, I would like to serve you again as I have no greater wish than to be by your side once more.” Shiraishi took her hand with hers, her skin feels so soft albeit cold. She was gentle as if Nishino hands would break upon a touch. Shiraishi bows down until their view are on the same level, her free hand making its way up to embrace Nishino’s cheek. “There’s no greater joy for me than having you beside me as the time we have spent are ones that I cherished the most. Thank you.” The senior is looking at her with high intensity that Nishino feeling even warmer than before, she averted her eyes to the script, hoping it would conceal the feelings that have started to grow. Luckily it doesn’t take Shiraishi long to snap out from her daze and take a step back from the younger girl. “Thank you so much for your help um-” she seems to be thinking for a moment before sheepishly asked, “we haven’t exactly introduced ourselves, didn’t we?” Nishino took a deep breath to calm down her racing heart before saying, “no. I- I am Nishino Nanase from 10-B.” “I’m Shiraishi Mai from 11-C. It’s nice to meet you, Nishino-chan,” she let out a wide smile upon finishing her sentence then moved to grab a silver thermos from the bench, she pour the drink it’s cup and gave it to Nishino who was still fumbling with her words and could only let out incoherent thanks as a reply. Nishino coughed in surprised when the warm liquid taste reaches her tongue. It was bitter, more bitter than the normal coffee that she tried once from Wakatsuki. Shiraishi raised her eyebrows, “Are you okay?” She nodded in response before bracing herself to gulp the dark liquid down. Trying not to show her amazement when seeing Shiraishi gulped down the coffee straight from the thermos lid without looking disgusted. “You should have said no if you can’t stand coffee, Nishino-chan.” “but you didn’t even tell me that it was coffee,” she frowned a little. For a moment Shiraishi stopped her movement before she burst out in laughter. “Fair enough,” Shiraishi shrugged before giving Nishino a signal to sit beside her on the bench. She straightened her legs before finally ask, “so what do you think about the play?” Nishino catches her eyes and took a moment to sort out her words before saying, “story-wise it is really good. It’s not something that I have heard before and the theme is unique. The writer did a really amazing job, it’s a bit unbelievable that high school students came out with the story because it looks professionally written.” “I didn’t say anything about it being written by a high school student, did I?” “IT’S NOT???” Nishino eyes widened. “Yeah, it’s not exactly for school festival play,” Shiraishi chuckled, “it’s an outside of school theatre club project that I’m a part of.” She had never thought that Shiraishi will be the kind of person that is active in that kind of group outside of school. If anything, she originally thought that the people from Shiraishi class are the one who voted for the girl to do the part because of her popularity and good looks. Nishino Nanase realizes there’s more of Shiraisi Mai in addition of her captivating beauty. “That’s really amazing, senpai,” she couldn’t hide her astonishment. “You should put the brochure on the news wall, I’m pretty sure a lot of students in the school will be keen to come to see it.” “No,” Shiraishi shook her head before looking up to the sky, “I don’t want people to solely come to see me. I want people to genuinely come to see the play. It doesn’t make any no sense to you, isn’t it?” Nishino hummed trying to make a sense of it for a moment, “I think I can understand.” “Well, I actually have been thinking of inviting someone to come and see me, but I’m still unsure whether it is a good idea or not.” “Senpai, I’m sure the person would enjoy the performance,” the younger encouraged her. “Well, unless this person is really not into a stage play.” “No, that’s not really the problem,” Shiraishi laughs, however, it sounds a bit different than the playful chuckle that she did before, this one sounds more deep and short, resembling a scoff more than a laugh, “I wish it’s something that simple, though.” They went silent for a moment, with Nishino trying hard to come up with something to reply. “Senpai, you… If you need to talk about that, I’m willing to listen.” Shiraishi raised her eyebrows, “Thanks, Nishino-chan, but I don’t really know you that much so I don’t think I should talk to you about it. Well, to be honest, I don’t think I should talk to anyone about this because this is- hm… personal matters.” Nishino eyes widened, “I didn’t mean to intrude, I’m so sorry for being insensitive.” “It’s fine, you’re not being insensitive. If anything, during this short period that I have known you I think you’re far from insensitive,” Shiraishi averted her eyes towards the other girl. “I wonder, Nishino-chan, do you have a boyfriend?” “N- no.” “Girlfriend then?” “Wha- No, I don’t.” Nishino realizes how it’s not that strange for a girl to be in a relationship with another girl, especially when it comes to their school, but still, she was taken aback from the upperclassman sudden interrogation. “Hm… what about a crush? Do you have any?” It took Nishino a moment before gulping down her nervousness and reply softly, “I don’t think so.” Shiraishi lifted her eyebrows, feeling suspicious of the other girl answer, “well, let me tell you something. Hm… Have you ever heard about me before? Like I mean before we met tonight, maybe from your classmate or something.” “Yeah,” Nishino admitted. It would be impossible not to hear about the other girl before, Shiraishi Mai is amazingly popular, everyone in the school now her beauty, albeit their opinion on her varies greatly, even Takayama- Nishino friends that go to another school knows about the older girl. The fact that Shiraishi is the first heir of one of the biggest biomedical technology and robotics add to her popularity advantages. One could say that she has everything you want from a partner. “Do you know that most people are either like me or hates me?” Shiraishi smiled bitterly. Nishino feels bad because it seems like the other girl is hurting to admit that, “they have their reasons.” “Well, of course. But do you know that I also have a reason to be like that?” Shiraishi averted her gaze back to the sky, seemingly lost in her train of thought for a moment before started to speak. “From the early years of my life, people that should have been there and care about me abandoned me in different ways. That’s why I never was able to reject someone affection towards me, even if I don’t know the person that well to like them back, even if I actually in a relationship with someone else, I couldn’t help but be greedy. It’s more like because I have lost so much, I will take every tiny piece of love that people could offer.” The sun has started to appear, replacing the moon that has gone from their view, the yellowish rays seem to give the sky much more bright colors. Nishino eyes carefully observed the older girl, her eyes seem a bit sad albeit the smile that still doesn’t leave her lips. “Furthermore, after everything that I have done because I just want people’s love, I am still afraid. What if they decided that I’m not good enough? Will they leave me just like the others did? So I always tried to be the one that breaks it,” Shiraishi continued, finally lifted her gaze from the peeking sun to face Nishino once more. “I am not like you, Nishino-chan. I am not afraid of people getting hurt because of me, I would rather have myself to be the one not-hurting.” “Unlike me?” Nishino is confused, her brain failed to process the similarity of their situation. “I think you know the answer more than I do, after all, I just met you a few hours ago,” her answer came as she stood up and turn her back towards the sun. “It was nice to talk to you, Nishino-chan. I believe you should leave this place before someone come and caught you here. It’s only a matter of time before your classmate started to look for you, too.” For a moment, they were looking at each other without saying or doing anything. Nishino broke their moment by nodding and standing up to properly face Shiraishi, “I believe you’d be amazing on stage, senpai. I wish you the best of luck.” “I don’t want to hear that now. Decide whether it’s good or not after you personally watch it. There will be a performance on Friday two weeks from now at the city town hall theater. I will reserve a seat for you, just come and give the information staff your name and say that you’re my guest,” Shiraishi explained briefly. “Your art is amazing, Nishino-chan. Take care of yourself, it’d be a waste if we lost someone with that skill.” “T-thank you,” Nishino feel her face reddened so she bowed a little to hide it. “I will definitely come to watch the play.” “Great, see you later, then,” she gave her a smile before turning her body towards the opposite side. Nishino muttered a simple parting reply, before finally managing to drag her foot towards the door, a part of her still doesn’t want to leave yet she realizes that she really needs to go if she doesn’t want both of them to get caught breaking the school rules. However, before closing the door, she stole a look towards the girl once more and find her looking up to the sky. She couldn’t really see her face because she was facing the opposite side. Then she realizes that the girl looks lonely. She couldn’t help but wonder what had happened. Snapping out from her useless wondering, Nishino closed the door and head downstairs. Once she got back from her class, several of her classmates ask about where she was, which she answered with one word “toilet” that thankfully manages to lift her out of their suspicion. However, once she’s not the main attention of the whole classmate, Wakatsuki Yumi approaches her, with an unreadable look and say, “I wonder where did you get that scarf.” Nishino eyes widened as she realizes that she forgot to give it back to Shiraishi, she stammered aimlessly to answer her best-friend before the latter shrugged. “It’s totally fine, you don’t need to explain. It looks good on you." For several minutes, they both stood looking at each other in silence. Nishino was one second away from walking away when Wakatsuki started to speak. “Over the past month, things went downhill for the three of us, I really hope that someday we can go back to be friends just like before,” Wakatsuki said. “I know that I’m not in the position to demand so much, but at least I can hope for that.” Nishino looks down for a moment. Somehow, she remembered what Shiraishi has said to her about taking every piece of love that she could find. Nishino sighed and finally said, “I’m… I’m glad that you did that. We are best friend, right? It was foolish of me to think that we should change that. I really hope we could stay best friends forever.” “So am I.”

#happy birthday maaiyaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan #sakjdhasksakjdkaslkldsa #I love you so much my goddess #nogizaka46 fanfiction #nogizaka46 #snls

[louismirage]

And My Heart Is A Hollow Plain~ XIV

Its the 1600s and all Louis wants is the freedom he knows he will never taste again.

He knew happiness, knew a good life and love. Had dreams and reasons to see the good in people, to expect good things from life.

Forced into a marriage he will never get out of, all he’s looking for is a breath of life. Maybe something or someone to come save him from the hell he knows.

This is a really really short chapter, but I wanted to post fast. There's one or two more chapters left of this fic. Hope you guys like it. :)

~XIV

Louis never opened his eyes again, not even when his babies’ cries echoed around the room, needing their mother. Not even as Harry sobbed, face hidden on Louis’ stomach, before he looked up with green eyes full of tears at the small babies laying down next to their mother.

"Louis?” Harry called his name again.

Nothing.

“No. No…” Harry cried, not caring that it wasn't proper of a prince to cry the way he was doing.

But how could he not when the man he swore to protect and love had slipped away.

The doctor hurried up to check on Louis, completely ignoring Harry when the prince moved to sit on the bed and pulled Louis on his lap. He cradled his husband like a baby, while their children cried next to them. He tried to push the doctor’s hands away. He didn’t want anyone to touch his love.

“Your majesty,” The doctor spoke up. “He is alive. His heart beats and he is breathing. It must be exhaustion. He needs to rest.”

Harry looked at the doctor before finally looking down at Louis. He placed his hand over his chest, then his head when he wanted to hear it himself. It was true. His heart was still beating and upon further inspection, his husband was still breathing. Both were faint, but they were there. Harry couldn't hold it anymore and started crying again, this time holding Louis tighter. He nodded when his mother approached him and took the babies with her to the other side of the room to get them cleaned up and dressed.

He refused to let anybody else in the room and stayed in bed with Louis as the doctor and Lucy cleaned Louis up. He held him while Edith replaced the bedsheets, always kissing his forehead and sometimes his lips. When Louis was finally clean, Harry laid down next to him to guard him as he slept. His mother had already given the servants orders to cook a hearty meal for both of them.

The hours passed slowly and Harry knew their children were hungry, but he didn’t have the heart to wake Louis up. Instead, he let Lucy and Edith take care of them after his mother had retired back to her bedroom to give his father the news. When the babies cries started getting louder, Harry finally got up, ignoring his headache, and walked up to Edith. He gently took his daughter in his arms, smiling when he held her in front of him to finally meet her. She stopped crying and instead nibbled on her small fist. Her brother doing the same.

Harry’s opinion was maybe biased, but he swore she looked just like her mother. Beautiful just like him. He brought her close to him and held her against his chest, giving her his first ever kiss on the top of her small head. He kissed her again, feeling the soft strands of her hair against his lips. He turned to look at Edith, but his attention quickly focused on Louis who was just waking up after sleeping for hours.

Harry gave his daughter to Edith, then went to Louis who was trying to open his eyes. Louis was pale and had deep dark circles under his eyes. He looked ill, but to Harry, he was still the most beautiful person he had ever seen.

“Love.” Harry wrapped his arms around Louis, kissing the top of his head over and over.

“M— My baby..?” Louis’ voice was raspy, and he could barely keep his eyes open.

Louis looked around until his gaze settled on Lucy and Edith holding two small babies. Harry nodded at them when they gave him a questioning look, then watched them get up with the babies still in their arms.

“Look at our little Elizabeth.” Harry kissed the top of Louis’ head as Edit handed Louis his daughter.

“A girl?” Louis asked, looking up at Harry with tears in his eyes before he looked down at his daughter he was now holding, then at the second baby that Lucy was holding.

“A girl.” Harry proudly told him. “And she's beautiful just like her mother.” He said, smiling when Louis smiled.

“I don't remember having two babies.” Louis said, eyeing the second baby as it was handed to him.

“You were in distress.” Harry explained. “They were a surprise. We were blessed with our little Adam and Elizabeth.”

Harry kissed Louis’ cheek, not minding how now all of his husband’s attention was on their newborns. He loved watching him and the way he would look at both their babies. It was then that he knew Louis loved them the same, both of them were his life. They were pulled out of their happy bubble when both babies started crying.

“They're hungry, your majesty.” Edith told him.

Louis looked up at her in confusion, still a little sleepy after the birth. When his babies continued crying, it was then that he realized what they wanted. It made him panic when he didn't know what to do. Lucky for him, Edith and Lucy helped him place both babies upright against his bare chest where they started nursing right away.

It was a weird feeling at first, and he felt awkward with Harry there watching him as he fed their babies. It was soon gone when he focused on his babies, enjoying his moment with them. Harry sat next to him, where he was propped up by pillows, and started rubbing Adam’s small back, leaning forward to place a kiss on his head.

Adam barely had any hair while his sister had a head full of it, both of it a dark brown that rivaled their father's. It was still too soon to see any similar features to their parents. Lucy and Edith ended up leaving them alone, but not before they had told Louis what to do after their babies were done eating.

As soon as they had finished eating, they fell asleep. Louis let Harry help him put them next to him when he refused to have them away from him in the crib. When they were sure they were okay, Louis turned his attention back on Harry, seeing the white bandage wrapped around Harry’s head, stained with a little bit of blood. Louis knew he had hit himself hard and the wound was deep, and he was eternally grateful that Harry was still alive.

“Does your head hurt?” Louis asked him, letting Harry pull him into his lap.

He winced a little when his bottom made contact with his husband’s lap. He was sure he was going to be hurting for days, but it was easy to ignore when all his attention was on Harry now that their babies were asleep.

“Just a little.” Harry told him. It was a lie, his headache was killing him, but his mother had already ordered the doctor to give him something which didn’t help to take the pain away at all.

“I thought you were dead.” Louis’ eyes filled with tears.

“I thought the same about you.” Harry held him tighter. “I’m sorry I made you fall.”

“It was an accident.” Louis placed his hand on is cheek, letting Harry kiss him.

They pulled away when they heard a knock on their door, and after Harry had told them to come in, Anne and Des walked into the bedroom. Behind them, Edith and Tommy walked in, each holding a tray of food. Tommy quickly placed it on the night table and walked out, leaving Edith behind. She grabbed a cup and slowly offered it to Harry who gave him a confused look. She blushed and looked down, just as Louis took it from her.

“It’s for the headache, your majesty. Just herbs. My mother knew how to use them and she taught me. They will make you feel better.” Edith explained.

“She’s right.” Des spoke up. “It works wonders for my headaches.”

Harry grabbed the cup and thanked Edith before she left. He drank slowly from it, ignoring the bitter taste of it. He had a sweet tooth, and the bitterness was making him want to stop drinking it but he had to. While he did so, he watched his father congratulate Louis then approach his children.

“And a few decades from now, we’ll have another king ruling over England. Well, a queen if our little Adam and his children decide they don’t want the title.” Anne happily told Des.

“May I?” Des asked.

When Louis nodded, Des easily picked his granddaughter up and held her against his chest, slightly rocking her when she made small whimpering sounds. He kissed her forehead and placed her back down on the bed, then picked his grandson up. He did the same with him, then he and Anne were gone to let the four of them rest after the long day they had.

When they were gone, Harry helped Louis to the table then brought the food so they could eat. They ate in silence when they were both starving, and when they were done, Harry helped Louis to the bathroom then to the bed. Louis had his babies in his arms as soon as he had sat down, wanting to hold them all the time. He kept kissing them, something that Harry found adorable.

“They love you already.” Harry commented.

“As I do.” Louis looked at him, then back down at his babies who were snuggled up against his now bare chest. Harry had made sure to cover them with the blanket so Louis wouldn’t get cold.

“You look exhausted, love. I think we should sleep.” Harry suggested.

“I want to spend a little more time with them.” Louis stared at his babies. “I’m afraid I’m going to wake up and I’ll no longer be here. That I’m going to be back there with Howard.”

“Howard is dead.” Harry told him. “He won’t hurt you or our babies.”

“It’s just silly of me to think he will come back one day and hurt me...hurt you.” Louis said, finally looking up at the father of his children.

“All you need to know is that he won’t hurt you. Never again.” Harry promised him.

Louis believed him like he always did.

#Louis Tomlinson #LouisTomlinson #Harry Styles #HarryStyles #Larry Stylinson #LarryStylinson #Mpreg #Pregnant!Louis #Bottom!Louis #Top!Harry #New Fic #NewFic

[proseasmic]

Inarrêtable - XIV

A Week Later

He hadn’t meant to match with her.

Marinette, that is.

Or maybe he did... Subconsciously, of course. He wouldn’t have done it on purpose... but the white crème suit seemed to call to him when he looked over his outfit options. Of course, he’d be wearing Gabriel; his father would no doubt disown him if he wore anything else, school dance or not. The suit jacket was a cashmere blend, very luxurious to the touch, and underneath he wore a crisp white shirt topped with a crème-silk vest accented with a pastel pink tie. Wearing pink wasn’t an issue for Adrien; as a model, he was often shoved into things of various colours, and he also liked to chalk it up to how comfortable he was with his masculinity.

Because he was the one who required the bodyguard, Adrien arranged for his friends to join him in the car and they’d all ride to the dance together. First stop was Nino’s, then Alya’s, and then Marinette’s where she was supposed to be with Luka. Adrien didn’t much like the idea of having their relationship waved in his face, but Marinette had been so grateful and happy when he offered that he couldn’t find it in himself to be mad about it.

When his bodyguard pulled up to Nino’s place, his friend was already there, wearing black dress pants, a matching vest, and a purple dress shirt with a black tie. Alya must have been wearing purple, and he had to hand it to Nino:

“You clean up good,” Adrien said as his friend slid into the seat next to him.

“No need to lie to my face, dude,” Nino said but he grinned anyway, pinching at Adrien’s jacket with a raised brow. “We all can’t look like a damn model.”

“I’m serious,” Adrien answered as the car peeled back into traffic. “Alya won’t be able to keep her eyes off you.”

“You think?” Nino seemed a bit nervous. “I’m not used to this whole monkey suit business.”

“Ah, come on,” Adrien clapped his friend on the shoulder with a grin. “It’s not everyday you can wear a monkey suit; enjoy it while you can!”

“Don’t you wear these pretty often?”

“And I can assure you that I know they’re the closest thing us mere mortals can get to a super suit,” Adrien grinned.

They pulled up in front of Alya’a building just as Nino was texting her, and the boys opted to go up and see her instead of waiting in the car. Adrien let Nino lead the way, and as soon as they got into the kitchen, Alya’s mother began to fuss over them, getting her camera ready to take pictures.

“Alya, Nino and Adrien are here!” Marlena called. “Are you almost ready?”

“We’ll just be a sec, Mama!” Alya’s muffled voice called back. Adrien’s brow furrowed.

‘We?’

Alya eventually emerged from her room, done up in a tight fitting purple dress that matched Nino’s shirt. Her hair was pulled up into a high ponytail (that she proudly announced was her “power pony”) and she paired everything with black pumps and a clutch her mother had lent her. Emerging from the room behind her, looking like some kind of flower fairy, was Marinette. It was like her dress design had been magicked off the paper and into reality; she had made it perfectly, the bodice fitting snugly against her torso with the A-line skirt flaring out to her knees. Her hair was pulled back into an elegant twist at the back of her head, and she opted to wear white flats instead of heels, most likely knowing her own clumsiness.

Adrien was floored. She was stunning. She looked beautiful. Like a… Princess. He’d given her the nickname as Chat Noir without really thinking about it, but it suited her. He then realized he was staring and cleared his throat.

“Marinette, what are you doing here?” Adrien asked, hoping he sounded casual. “I thought we were picking up you and Luka from your place.”

“Oh, we had a change of plans,” Marinette said with a smile. “He had a late band practice, so he said he’d meet us there.”

Adrien noticed how her shoulders drooped and he frowned. He found it was getting harder and harder to like Luka right now.

“Alright, photo time!” Marlena exclaimed, and Alya groaned.

“Mamaaaa, we’ve got to go!”

“No, you guys go ahead,” Marinette said to Alya and Nino. “You guys should get a photo to commemorate your night! You both look great.”

“Oh no, we’re not leaving you and Adrien out of this,” Marlena said. “Not when you both match!”

Adrien knew he and Marinette realized it at the same time. They both glanced at their own outfits before looking at each other’s and the two of them instantly flushed red.

“We’re not-“ Adrien stuttered. “I didn’t do it on purpose!”

“Yeah, we’re not-“ Marinette floundered. “I’m going to the dance with Luka!”

“Since he’s not here,” Nino quipped. “Why don’t you two just get a photo together? We can do a group picture! Just a bunch of friends.”

Marinette seemed to relax at that and glanced at Adrien. He met her gaze and shrugged with a sheepish smile and they joined Nino and Alya in the shot. Adrien stood next to Marinette, eventually having to put his arm behind her as they were all instructed to squish in together for the photo by Marlena.

After a quick photo session later that Alya grumbled though (“Now I know where you get it from,” Marinette said jokingly), they were finally on their way down to the car. Nino and Alya led the way, arm in arm, and Adrien fell into step next to Marinette as Marlena waved them off.

“Bye, have fun!” She called. “Make good choices!”

“I never got a chance to tell you, Marinette,” Adrien said as he opened the car door for her. “Your dress looks incredible! It turned out really well.”

Marinette chuckled. “Oh, thanks; I’m really proud of it. I think it’s my best work yet!”

“You should be proud,” Adrien smiled.

“You look really nice, too,” Marinette gave him an earnest smile as she smoothed a part of his jacket. She paused at the softness before she pulled away (Adrien’s heart squeezed sadly) and turned to get into the car. “But then again, you always look really nice.”

“Thanks,” he said with a wistful smile as he slid in after her.

-----------------

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#miraculous ladybug&nbsp;fan fiction #miraculous #miraculous lb #miraculers #fanfiction writer #adrienette #adrien agreste #marinate&nbsp;dupain-cheng #marichat #ladybug and chat noir #the tales of ladybug and cat noir #the tales of ladybug and chat noir #tales of ladybug and cat noir #luka couffaine #romance fic #ml ladybug #ladybug #cat noir #chat noir

[theemmataylor]

A Frozen Medley || Sebastian, Gaston, Emma, Evelyn, Alaric, and the Mikaelson Brothers

I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII | IX | X | XI | XII | XIII | XIV | XV | XVI

"How long do I get to... I mean, how will you be here. You never sleep enough. I shouldn't keep you up." There was so many things she felt she needed to do, including going out there and helping the guys work. But if... if she helped Gaston sleep well.

Or you're just making excuses to stay next to him.

Mentally, Emma cursed Evelyn. This was her fault; she'd put the idea of Gaston into Emma's mind. "What about you, Mr. LeFevre? How are you really doing?"

“I am half asleep," he murmured. "That is how I am really doing.. should I... let you go? Or are you staying with me?"

“I will stay, if you don't mind. I might go a little later. But sleep for now." She had stretched and almost kissed his jaw when she caught herself. What am I doing? She rubbed her nose against his jaw line instead, to try to keep from being too awkward, and then rested her head against his chest, closing her eyes. "Sleep well, Gaston."

The igloo was built. The generator had worked to recharge the first battery. The fences were on, the markers were running. It was colder than ever, wind whistling around the igloo, but it was warm inside. A small seal-fat fire burned and most had eaten their fill of its meat -- save Evelyn, who had remained outside to eat as a cat and had happily consumed its organs. Now, she was inside, human and stretched out behind Emma so the girl could lean against her. Her arms were folded and her chin on them, her eyes closed.

Elijah was exhausted but content, leaning against Alaric as they ate. Nik had set up his camera but was half-asleep, a bit of seal-meat in his hand, leaning up against his Kol. LeFevre had just come in from watch, and the warmth of the igloo stunned him.

"This... is far more comfortable than the tents."

Elijah gestured at him to come and take meat.

Emma's eyes were closed and she was content and happy, though they half opened when she heard Gaston and her content smile seemed to spread a bit.

Kol was leaning across Nik, stealing a bite of his seal, and then rolling while chewing to rest his head in Nik's lap. "We're one big happy orgy... er... family." The bottle of whiskey was barely touched, but resting on the ground beside him. And it was enough to make him truly feel warm again.

"For some, perhaps it's one and the same," Sebastian muttered, causing Alaric to choke back a laugh. But luckily it sounded more like a cough.

"We saved you plenty. Eat your fill." He scooted to leave a spot between himself and Emma, though there was plenty of other spaces that Gaston could fit. "Tomorrow we work on filming."

Nik shot Sebastian a look. "What was that, mate?"

Sebastian smirked. And Kol nudged Nik to get him to behave.

"I didn't say anything, Klaus. Nothing of importance. Relax. Today is a good day."

Nik huffed and ignored Kol, then moved over to Sebastian and gave him a low growl and a nip on the ear. "My brother wants me to behave," he purred into Sebastian's ear, too quiet for the others to hear. "I always do. Always." Moving back, he settled in comfortably against Kol's side and went back to picking at seal, looking at Sebastian with utterly unreadable eyes.

Sebastian lifted a brow, glancing at Kol, then watching as Nik moved back to sit with his brother. "You are an awful flirt, Klaus Mikaelson. And now that we all share this space, perhaps reigning it in would be a good idea..."

Kol's brows furrowed but Sebastian winked at him, feeling more playful and energetic than he had in days. Even feeling a little talkative.

Emma rolled her eyes, but chuckled.

"Don't think I've forgotten your offer, Miss Taylor, you scoundrel."

Her eyes went wide. "I have extended no such offer."

Sebastian laughed. "Hmm. My loss. Suppose we can't all be as lucky as LeFevre..."

Gaston snorted and settled down with Emma. He looked Moran over and smiled, then turned around to look at Evelyn, who had flopped over onto her back and fallen asleep. Unable to resist, he tapped her lightly on the stomach once -- the purring, questioning, confused meow sound she made was absolutely worth it. She blinked and looked at him, unsure what had just happened, then stretched out and purred more loudly before going back to sleep.

"Emma, you can't be the scoundrel here, anyway," Nik objected. "I claim that title for my brother. If there is any scoundrel here, it's Kol."

“It's true. I scandalize my family weekly, at least. Moran is just talking out of his ass. Emma is all class. She could do better than some..."

"Watch it, kit." Sebastian growled.

"Face it. She's too good for you."

Sebastian hummed and nodded. "There are few who would deserve her. Certainly not you, Niklaus."

"Have we... forgotten that she's sitting here? And feeling even more awkward than normal?" Emma asked, looking at Ric for help, who punched Kol in the leg.

"You boys behave."

“Be... have? Beehive? My dear Alaric, just because we happen to be English doesn't mean we're all Sherlock Holmes."

"I'm... not... sure you can make that comparison in this game," Elijah murmured.

Nik shrugged and snuggled down so he could rest his head in Kol's lap. "So what do we do now?" He asked, and went on to ask Elijah something -- as the marker alarm silently went off.

Gaston's eyes widened slightly as he felt the vibration and he immediately got to his feet and pulled his jacket on, looking at Moran.

Sebastian was already pulling his boots on, grabbing a jacket, and then reaching in the safety case where he'd left his gun.

Emma watched them, willing them to be careful, and she gently nudged Evelyn. Strength in numbers, right?

"It's out to the south. Might just be another bear. But... be alert," Sebastian whispered. "Be prepared for anything."

Evelyn looked at Moran and pointed at herself. "You want me with you? Or with them?" She was on her knees, preparing to shift  the moment he told her where to be.

He looked at her, then at Gaston. Finally back to her. "Sit outside the igloo. If we call for you. You'll hear us. Do not let them get hurt."

With that he took off for the gate, knowing Gaston would be on his trail, hoping he could manage this threat. Needing to be able to protect them even still.

Gaston was right behind him and the two men moved quickly through the darkness and the bitter, biting wind. They didn't have far to go, though, before they could see their guest, the strange sorcerer with the spinning teeth. He stood with his arms outstretched and fingers curved like claws, his eyes wide and manic, and all his teeth bared as they twisted and bubbled up with blood. When he saw them, he seemed to light up with glee.

"Good God, that's disgusting," Gaston muttered, and put his back to Sebastian's once they were stationary.

“Don't waste your ammunition," he whispered, though suddenly frustrated he'd left Evelyn behind. She'd ran him off last time. "And don't be afraid to call for her. She has weapons we don't."

He looked at the man and felt.... less frightened. Though he had no idea why. "What is it you want?" He knew he wouldn't be spoken to. "Why our camp?" You freak.

The man made a wet hissing sound and giggled, then was suddenly standing in front of Gaston. He grabbed the man by the jacket and sniffed his chest before Gaston could even shove him away.

"Don't touch me!" he snarled, throwing the sorcerer to the ground and pointing his gun at him despite what Moran had said. "Who are you? What do you what?"

The thing's teeth came to a slow stop and then he got up to his feet. "What... do... you want?"

"Oh, you speak English? Wonderful. It's quite the accent you have. Should I have asked, parlez-vous francais? Or would you simply repeat my words back to me in French?"

"In French."

"So help me, state your purpose, else I shall test my commander's claims and thus prove myself a terrible soldier to him." He aimed.

"I want -- your little one." He looked at Moran. "The woman. She is like a girl. I need her."

Sebastian's eyes went wide. He looked at Gaston. "Why do you need her?"

He wouldn't be handing over any of their crew. Fucking hell like he would do that. But if he could understand... "Why the girl?" He said again, clenching his teeth, hating this supernatural bullshit.

There was pure rage on Gaston's face. The notion of anyone taking Emma had him wanting blood, but he forced himself to stay silent.

"She will be a good wife. I need someone to cook my meat, to clean my home, to help me with my spells. She will be perfect. I sent wolves to find her. You tried to stop them. You cannot stop me. My magic is too strong. It has always been too strong. I need a good wife, I will have -- Emma. Emma."

Sebastian laughed, but the sound was hollow, dangerous. "I didn't try to stop your wolves. My buddy here and I killed them all. Even the sad one you made chase us all the way up here. The one who knew you were sending to its death.

"But see, here's the thing about women. They tend to like their free will. And as... charming as you seem. I think she's sweet on one of the men she left back home." There was no way in hell he was going to put LeFevre in the line of this thing's fire by announcing that... well, truth be told he didn't think there was anything official to claim. Regardless. This was safer.

"I'll be sure to pass along your proposal. But the only way she's going anywhere is by her own choice. And, like I said, she seems real anxious to get home."

"You pass it on... you pass it all on. This one will have to tell the truth." He pointed at Gaston and his teeth began turning again; two got stuck on each other and strained, more blood oozing up between them than from any of the others. "When she is my bride, I will let everyone else go. You will all live. You will be home. You will be free.

"If you do not tell them that truth -- he will. He has no choice." The sorcerer lowered his hand.

”Right. Full story. You got it, pal."

Sebastian nudged Gaston with the butt of his rifle and backed away toward camp. "Give her a couple days to decide at least. Big decision and all."

No. No way. No fucking way am I allowing this.

Gritting his teeth, he looked at Gaston. "Don't do it. Don't wast that ammo. I know how much you want to kill him. We'll find another way."

”You have until I wake," the sorcerer said, and finally one of the snagged teeth managed to pop free. Once again, he shifted into a bird and let himself fall into the tearing Arctic wind.

As soon as he was gone, Gaston fell to his hands and knees, gasping harshly for breath. He started coughing, choking, and blood flecked the snow. He tried to breathe, tried to rise, but seemed unable to do either.

Sebastian dropped to Gaston's side, touching his back. He hadn't even...

"Take your time. Just breathe." I missed that you weren't. I could have just let you die and not realized it. Fuck. Fuck. He pulled a small cloth from his pocket and helped wipe blood away from Gaston's mouth while also holding on to the back of his head. "We don't need her to worry. And she will. Over you. She'll worry."

Sebastian's own worry was deeply evident in his eyes and the way he held on to Gaston. "Are you okay?"

Gaston shook his head, still coughing, still struggling to draw breath. His wheezing sounded tight and wet; with every cough, there was more blood. Tears froze on his cheeks and he clutched tightly at Moran's shoulder, an instinctive reaction, something he wasn't at all aware of. Blackness seemed to be spreading through his chest, as if the absence of light was something he could feel, something he could be.

Death, he realized suddenly. It was death. That's what was happening. He was dying. Right now.

"Worse," was all Gaston managed to say, and after he fought  that word out, his next breath was so tight, it was a squeak, like some tiny, dying creature.

Sebastian called immediately for Evelyn. Loud. He knew she'd hear him. And he called for her to bring Emma. He wasn't sure if she'd understand that part from this distance. But time... was on short supply.

"Bring the goddamn girl," he said again, pulling Gaston's mouth open and shamelessly checking the airways. But, of course, that wasn't the problem.

He had to tell her all of it. He had to. Fuck.

"I'm not letting you go, LeFevre, you hear me? You better fucking hang on."

Gaston nodded. His body wanted to quit, but he couldn't let it; Moran wanted him to live, so he had to live. There was no dying without permission, not on Moran's watch. He felt himself fall to his side, felt the hard-packed snow against his face, and he wasn't sure whether his eyes were open or closed anymore, but it didn't really matter. There was pain, a world of pain, and he could hear an awful wheezing sound, tight and ugly and agonizing -- but that wasn't still him, was it?

--

"Emma!" Evelyn burst back in. "Get dressed right now! Fast, fast!"

Elijah started to stand but Evelyn shook her head. "Only Emma. Now! I need you to come with me! Everyone else, stay!"

Emma didn't waste time. Actually, Evelyn busting in had scared her so much that she was already standing and now dressing, zipping up her coat and covering her face.

As she ran out into the cold, she didn't know if the sudden tears were from the wind or from some certain, indescribable fear. "Lead the way."

Evelyn took her by the hand and started running, knowing that if she shifted into her leopard form she would probably run too fast and abandon Emma for one dangerous moment, a moment where everything could be lost. They ran as fast as they could together until they found Moran standing over a dark shape and the smell of blood was sharp on the air.

"What ha--" but Evelyn stopped herself from asking a question that was, at the moment, useless. Moran had asked for Emma and Gaston seemed to be dying -- if he needed to say goodbye, she wouldn't waste time with chatter.

Emma fell to her knees. Her hands moving straight for his face. "What... oh my god." She was already crying and the tears seemed to freeze as quickly as they came. "No," she whispered, "No, no, no, no, please don't go."

Emma's hands brought him back from someplace warm and quiet and comfortable, where none of the pain was, and suddenly everything hurt again, but he could breathe. He sucked in lungfuls of icy air, shuddering, and coughed again, then shook his head.

"I can't tell--"

His lungs and throat seemed to close up at once, worse than before.

"It's a curse," Evelyn snapped. "Gaston, you must comply, whatever it is or you'll die. Right here, right now."

Gaston shook his head again, unaware just how much blood was frozen on his lips and chin and cheek, but then he felt Emma's touch again and he couldn't leave her. But if he said the truth --

Gaston closed his eyes. He couldn't. It was better to die than do that to Emma.

Evelyn looked at Moran, mercury-colored eyes pleading with him to somehow make LeFevre talk.

”Gaston you idiot. Do you think you are the only one he'll curse? You think he won't go after Evelyn. Kol. Elijah next? You think he won't make her watch everyone die, and then..." take her anyway? "Do it, Gaston. Stop being a bloody idiot and do it."

"It's okay," she said, leaning down to kiss his bloodied, chapped lips, crying, terrified, more than a little confused. "You can tell me. Please." Her fingers moved over the hat that was on his head. "Please, Gaston. I can't... I can't lose you."

I betray Moran or I betray you...

Gaston shut his eyes. "There... is a sorcerer..." His breath returned, although it still felt ragged, and he wondered if he had only imagined her lips on his. "A madman. The one responsible for putting us here. His teeth spin in his head and blood bubbles out, his nails have grown out so long they look like claws. He says.. that he will have you for a wife. If you go to him, he will let the rest of us go free. He claims he sent the wolves to look for you...

"You can't go, though, Emma. Please. Promise you won't." His voice was a hoarse, pained whisper, but now that he could breathe, he struggled to try and sit up.

Evelyn wrapped her arms around herself and stared a bit listlessly into the darkness, listening.

”Wait. What? A..." She closed her eyes, wanting to be grateful that he was breathing again, but what in the heck was he talking about. She looked to Moran for confirmation of what Gaston had said, though she didn't doubt his honesty.

Emma touched his face.  "I cannot sentence you all to this life." It wasn't even a question, her going. Not while knowing the whole truth. Her gaze lifted to Evelyn. I told you I wasn't destined for love.

"I won't do that. If you can be free..."

"We can find a way to get free on our own. We can survive."

"He sent the wolves. He stopped time for us, essentially. I bet a search crew will find you all instantly. How can you ask me to say no? When it..." she looked down at Gaston again, trying to keep him laying down until she was certain he'd keep breathing. "When it could save you."

S: —> “Some costs are too high," Gaston whispered. His eyes were beginning to clear and he blinked the last of the tears away, then looked over at Evelyn. Frowning, he weakly reached out and touched Moran, then tried to gesture at her, although his body didn't seem to want to obey. "She.. needs to shift." He had to lay back again, as Emma urged, and clear his throat as he felt the blood continue to slowly trickle down it.

"We should get.. back to the igloo... and talk there. Can't stay out here.." Gaston reached up and touched Emma's sleeve. There was a certain unreality about this, and he wasn't convinced he wouldn't just wake up soon and write it all off as an odd dream.

Sebastian nudged Evelyn. "Come on. Shift. It's far too cold for you to have not shifted already. You both have to stop being idiots.

"Emma, can you help stabilize him in a standing position?"

Her eyes went wide, but she agreed to try, and once they had Gaston on his feet, Sebastian apologized for the informality, and then lowered a shoulder enough to let Gaston drape over it. Then he started back toward the igloo.

Emma held tight onto Gaston's hand. She couldn't speak. She just wanted to protect her family.

Evelyn hadn't even realized how cold she was and had stared dumbly at Moran for a moment before obeying. The change felt more difficult than usual, sluggish, and even once she was in fur she lagged as she followed them back.

When they were back inside the fence, Elijah took Gaston from Moran and carried him inside. Only once they were all in there, all safe, did he ask, "What happened?" Serious, frowning, Elijah immediately started cleaning the blood away from Gaston's face, but he looked questioningly at the others. "Is anyone else hurt?"

”I… they found a way to save you all," Emma said quietly, looking only at Gaston. "There is a sorcerer who is looking for a wife. And he wants me. If I go, you all will be free. And since it's not up for negotiation, I'll go before morning. While you're sleeping. It'll be easier that way."

”You're really going to force us to restrain you?" Elijah asked her, eyes sharpening although his voice stayed surprisingly mild.

#part fifteen #a frozen medley #one shot #familyispower #bourbonandbrushes #gastonlefevre #theveritasi #v nature doc