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behindheremeraldeyes · 4 years

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title: duty calls

[ch.2] [ffnet] [ao3]

summary: Modern/ Quarantine AU- A new disease is spreading around the world, and unlike most people, she can’t run away from it. As a health worker, Haruno Sakura understands her part in this fight, and unfortunately, she can’t have him by her side. In order to keep him and everyone else safe, she has to stay away.

a/n: so, in the middle of this whole pandemic, why not write a SasuSaku AU, right? Lately, I’ve been struggling a bit with this whole quarantine and after reading a bunch of fics in which Sasuke and Sakura stay inside together, I’ve decided to show her the health worker she is. I’m also thinking about making this a multi-chapter (no more than 4 chapters) but I still haven’t decided… Should I? Well, enough of my rambling! Hope you enjoy this one! I would also love to know your opinion! Stay safe and stay inside!

This fic is dedicated to all of those people risking their lives out there for the sake of their patients. You guys are heroes and deserve to be recognized as such. I support the health workers and their right to work under decent conditions.

The trembling of her key chain echoed across the hallways of her apartment complex, knocking on her neighbours' every door just to be bluntly rejected. People of all ages laid restless under their blankets, feeling their heartbeats rising while watching the latest news, and it was as if she could hear the silent screams of apprehension escaping through locked doors. Sakura was coming home from a very long and very stressful shift at the hospital— one of many others that were still to come— and as soon as she found herself standing on her entry, she closed her eyes and allowed herself to take a long deep breath.

Things were definitely not okay. Across the world, all kinds of people were scared of an invisible threat that was sweeping the globe at an extremely fast pace, leaving behind a trail of sickness and death wherever it went. For those still unvisited, the near future would make sure to even the nations, for the contamination was inevitable. In a matter of days— weeks, at most— the new Coronavirus would cross yet another border, and she knew better than to believe the capital of the Fire Country would be an exception. Chaos would soon strike her beloved Konoha and there was nothing she or anyone could do to stop it.

Though politicians were trying to control the uncontrollable with motivational speeches and isolation measures, the word around the health professionals wasn’t really that simple. The hospitals weren’t ready to treat so many people at the same time. They lacked security equipments, respiratory machines, rapid tests— heck, they didn’t even have space for all of the patients that were expected to show up at the hospital. Even if the hospital where she worked at was one of the best in the whole country, Sakura knew dark times were ahead of them.

There was no use in denying the inevitable outcomes of the pandemic, she knew.

A lot of people were going to be infected, some were going to get sick, others are going to die and stricter safety measures would be imposed in order to try to contain the contamination. They mayor had already decreed a state of quarantine in order to isolate everyone, and she knew that meant not seeing Sasuke, Naruto, her parents and everyone else that are not her work colleagues for the time being. She would miss them, for sure, especially her raven haired boyfriend, but deep inside she knew it was for the best. His safety was the most important thing, and now, from afar, she could only hope he would listen to the security recommendations so they could all get through that crisis without major problems.

Yes, hope.. that was the only thing she could do at such late hours. She opened her tired eyes to be welcomed by the dark corridor of her apartment, and reluctantly decided that it was time for her to go clean herself. Even if there were still no reported cases in the city, it was only prudent to treat the hospital as a highly contaminated place, therefore, she would have to make sure to follow the recommendations given to the doctors.

With a silent sigh, she dropped her bag to the floor and quickly took off her shoes. She unbuttoned her jeans, letting it slip down her legs, and with one move, her shirt was also pulled from her body. The pink haired doctor was then left only in her mismatched underwear as she finally crossed the hallway of her apartment towards her bathroom for a good bath. Even if she lived all alone, she couldn’t simply risk infecting everything she touched.

What if someone recklessly showed up at her door, right?

Her bare feet against the wooden floor were light as she crossed the corridor, and as she approached the living-room entrance, an odd light caught her attention. It was dim and she knew it was probably coming from the lamp next to the couch, and immediately, she tried to think back to the last time she had turned that on. Nothing came to mind. If she were completely honest, Sakura barely remembered the last time she sat on her couch to watch some Tv without Sasuke around, let alone to read a book or do something that would require that amount of light.

No, she hadn’t forgotten that light on, that much she knew. And if it hadn’t been her, then—

Her emerald eyes widened at the realization, and in a heartbeat, she rushed to the source of light just to find the one thing that was supposed to be sleeping safely miles away from her. Lying on her couch and reading a book was no one other than her boyfriend, Uchiha Sasuke, who had apparently decided to spend his quarantine with a health worker. He was simply sitting there, wearing his usual marine-blue pajamas while a mug rested on the center table next to him. Her lips parted in a mix of awe and anger at the sight in front of her, and it took her some good seconds before she decided what to do.

She had to keep calm and think rationally in order to deliver a message. Better than anyone, she knew there was no need to make a fuss because of that.

Yeah, right.

“What the hell are you doing here!?” She spoke, her voice almost screaming and hands resting on her hips as she stood at least 4 meters away from him.

His shoulders flinched at the sudden sound as he was brought back from his book. “Oh, you’re finally home.” He turned his head around to face her, then, his dark eyes ever so calm, only to be surprised by the sight of his girlfriend’s current state. “Why are you naked?”

“What?”

“Your clothes… What happened to them?” His expression changed, a sudden concern taking over his demeanour. “Were you robbed!? Sakura, tell me, did they do anything to you? Because, if they did—”

“I wasn’t robbed!” She spoke firmly, the urge of face-palming eating her alive. “Shannarou, my clothes are contaminated, Sasuke-kun. Just like me! You really shouldn’t be here. I might—”

“Did you get a new case at the hospital today?” He cut through her speech, absentmindedly, as he closed his book just to take a sip of his mug.

“No, not yet, but—"

“Then you still don’t have to be so nervous. Calm down.”

“Calm down?!” She scoffed, bitting her lower lip before continuing. "There’s a pandemic out there, Sasuke-kun. People are gonna get really sick. They are going to die, and right now, we can only rely on the isolation measures so, hopefully, the hospitals won't crash. I’ll be out there exposed to this virus and instead of only risking myself, now, with you around, I’m risking your health, too! So, please, don’t tell me to calm down.”

Her eyes were widened as she let out all of those words of concern, and it was possible to tell she was finally feeling the weight of her responsibilities on her shoulders. His eyes grew serious at the sight of his girlfriend falling apart in front of him, and if anything, the Uchiha knew he had to do something.

At that moment, Sakura was stressed and scared. She was the personification of a breakdown, just like he had predicted she would be, and even if he knew his presence there would only leave her more worried, to say he regretted his actions would be a lie. In fact, Sasuke was happy to be there.

He was happy to be by her side while he still could.

And since that was the case, the Uchiha knew he had to help her.

“Hn, you’re right.” He nodded, closing his eyes in acceptance. Sasuke stood up, then, moving his neck a little before turning to face her. “Maybe I didn’t think this through.”

“Oh, you think?” She arched an eyebrow, crossing her arms across her chest, just watching as he started to take some steps closer to her. The pinkette was still aware that she was still technically contaminated, and after all that talk, she wanted to believe her boyfriend also knew what that meant.

She wanted to believe he had understood her plea. And without major problems, he did.

But that didn’t mean he would simply admit that.

“Aah. I guess I should start taking this more seriously.”

“You really should.” She kept looking at him, as his feet continued walking, her brows arched in surprised for he was actually accepting her words. There was something different with him. Sasuke seemed more mature, more responsible and— “What are you doing?”

“I'm walking. Is there a problem?”

“Well, as a matter of fact, yes. You’re coming too close and I still haven’t showered.”

“And?”

“Are you serious?!” She started, her voice now with traces of annoyance. "Did you really not pay attention to anything I’ve just said?!”

“Oh, I did listen to you, Sakura. Though I have to admit I got a little… distracted.” He smirked, running his eyes up and down her body. “I guess the lab coat really is important to a doctor’s image.”

Her cheeks grew red in a mix of embarrassment and anger, and she had to hold back the urge to smack him on the shoulder. Had she already washed her hands, though, he wouldn’t have escaped her heavy hand that easily.

“You have got to be kidding me, Sasuke-kun!” She started, pouting angrily. “What is wrong with you!?”

“Hn.” He scoffed, shrugging off her anger. “I'm still a man, Sakura. What were you expecting?”

Tch, you’re unbelievable.” She said, closing her heavy eyes for a couple of seconds in order to let everything sink in. That whole pep talk wasn’t going anywhere. It was late, she was tired, and more than ever, she needed to clean herself. “Ugh, this is useless. I’m gonna go get a shower and then we will continue this conversation.”

“Do I have a choice?”

“No, not really.” She said, turning around and walking towards the bathroom at the end of the hallway. “It's not like you’re going anywhere before I disinfect the doorknob.” She could almost feel his eyes on her, but at that moment, she couldn’t find it in herself to care.

Though she could not see, he smirked at his girlfriend’s snarky words. Sakura was probably furious at him, but he knew it was worth it if it meant she could finally take a break during a hot shower. “Try to relax a bit. I’ll prepare you something warm to eat once you’re done.”

The unexpected softness in his voice took her by surprise, and at the mention of food, she suddenly remembered she hadn’t eaten anything since lunch. She felt her stomach lowly rumbling due to its emptiness, and a pout formed in her lips at the thought of being betrayed by her own insides. Sakura hated when he did that in the middle of an argument.

Shannarou, How am I supposed to be mad at you like that, Sasuke-kun?

A sigh escaped her lips, at the thought. “Fine.” She said, her voice holding onto the first syllable for a couple more seconds as she disappeared into the dark hallway of her apartment. She opened the bathroom’s door, turned on the light, and before she could lock herself in there, the pinkette peeked out with her her head one last time for one last warning. “Uchiha Sasuke, don’t you dare use all of my tomatoes!”

Her voice echoed across the hallway, being followed by the sound of the door clicking shut. The water, then, began to fall down while she took off the last pieces of clothes shielding her body, and soon, the bathroom was filled with steam.

——————————

After almost 20 minutes, she walked out of the bathroom, dressed in her pyjamas and with her short, pink hair still wet from the shower. Even if her mind was still revolving around the inevitable upcoming of the quarantine and the fact that she still had things to disinfect, Sakura would be lying if she said the hot water streaming down her body didn’t sooth her spirit. She moved around her apartment, bare feet against the cold floor, as she headed back to the living room where Sasuke was waiting for her. Her nose could smell the scent of food, and for the first time that evening, she saw something positive about having him around.

“Hmm… The smell is delicious.” She stated, practically humming, as she entered her kitchen. For she lived in an open floor apartment— as expected, for those who live alone— she could see as her boyfriend was once more sitting on the couch, calmly, as he had resumed reading his book. He had left her plate covered with a piece of paper-towel on the kitchen island, and judging by the steam coming out of it, she could tell he had just placed it there. It was his special rice porridge with vegetables and tomatoes that she loves so much, and she couldn’t help but mentally thank his mother for teaching him how to cook.

A smile took over her lips as she took a medium spoon to help her eat, and instead of sitting on the place he had set for her on the dinning table, Sakura walked towards the couch where he was reading and found herself a place next to him. His dark eyes didn’t bother leaving the book as she scootched closer to him, and she barely noticed as he slightly adjusted his body to welcome her by his side. She leaned back until her back was pressed against his chest, propped her feet on the couch and allowed herself to relax her muscles so she could finally eat her homemade dinner.

“Are you properly disinfected now, Sakura?” He teased, still not changing the tone of his voice nor taking his eyes from his book.

“Well, we don’t know if regular showers are 100% efficient. Maybe you should’ve thought about that before breaking into my apartment.”

“Hn, you can’t charge me for that when I entered using the key you gave me.”

She was blowing the porridge on the spoon, clearly enjoying that domestic atmosphere surrounding them. “Oh, I guess I’ll have to get that key back from you, then.”

“I guess you really should. You wouldn’t want me showing up here every night and interrupting your precious routine of skipping dinner, right?.” He smirked, turning the page of his book.

“Tch, shut up. It’s not like I do it every night.” She said, smirking back at him. Sakura hated it when he brought up her bad habits as arguments to their silly arguments. She knew he was right about the things he said about her not eating or sleeping properly, though she would never admit such thing. Being an adult was hard, but it was certainly easier with him around.

“If you say so…”

“I know so.” She nodded, with a childish smile on her face. Finally, after blowing off the steam, the pinkette took a spoonful of the porridge, and as always, felt her tastebuds delighted by how all of the ingredients melted inside her mouth. Maybe it was the fact that she was starving or maybe it was because she didn’t have such high standards on food, but she felt like that porridge could win a culinary award. It was salty, warm and that combination of carrots and chopped parsley felt like a very comfortable hug.

She loves it when he cooks her dinner. Apart from the taste always being nice, Sakura can’t help but be grateful for the fact that he cares for her. Sasuke has never been a man of many words, not even during their younger days, and that’s why, whenever he does something like that—well— it means the world to her.

With that porridge, he made sure she had no excuse not to eat after a long day of work. He was making sure she wasn’t going to ignore her own health, and with that, he was showing how much he cared. And even though she was still mad at him for being so irresponsible, she couldn’t possibly disregard his actions.

She was thankful for having him around that night. Thankful for his company, for the rice porridge and for trying to help her ease her mind even though the world around them was about to turn upside-down.

After the third spoon, Sakura let out a pleased squeal, and she really had to hold back the urge to devour everything like Naruto usually devours his ramen. “Shannarou, I just love your porridge.”

"Hn” He nodded. “My mom taught me that recipe when I first left home for law school.”

“I remember that.” She said, her voice a bit muffled because of the warm food. “You would always prepare some at your dormitory whenever we had to pull an all-nighter for the tests.”

“Aah. It was either that or ramen every night.”

“Naruto didn’t seem to mind.”

“Tch, his eating habits are probably worse than yours.”

“Well…” A soft giggle escaped her lips as her eyes were focused on the last spoon of the porridge. “I might have to agree with you on that.”

Unfortunately, for her stomach, the porridge eventually came to an end. With the flavors still lingering on her tongue, Sakura moved her body so her hand could leave the dish on the center table, not wasting time before returning to her previous position. After dating the Uchiha for so long, the pinkette was already used to his body, and therefore, it was easy for her to use it as a comfortable pillow. Her head was now resting just bellow the crook of his neck, and she allowed herself to close her emerald eyes so she could properly enjoy that moment. His scent invaded her nostrils, his warmth enveloped her body and his heartbeat soothed her senses.

Sakura wanted that moment to last forever. She wanted to have the power to freeze time so she could spend more time with him and so the scientists could have all the time they needed to properly study a cure for that disease before more people lost their lives.

Time. Such a fleeting entity for everyone out there fighting against the virus. Patients, health workers, politicians… They were all begging for more time during that time global mess but it just seemed useless as countries all around the world were breaking death records day after day. Health Care Systems are crowded all over and even she knew Konoha had been preparing for this for over a month now, Sakura wasn’t a fool to believe they would be able to go through that without major damages.

People are going to lose their lives. People she knows and works with. People she cares about. Heck, for all she knew, she might become a victim of the COVID-19 herself. There was no telling who would be spared or who would suffocate, and she didn’t want to see people paying the highest price for pushing their luck. It was not the time to take things for granted, especially not when an act of irresponsibility could put other lives at stake.

It was time for people to think about each other and avoid agglomerations. It was time for people to stay safe and stay inside as much as they could in order to put a halt to the virus’ dissemination.

It was time for people to be alone. And unfortunately, that also included them.

The pinkette didn’t know for how long she had drifted away, but she suddenly felt herself coming back to her senses as soon as his body shifted next to her. Sasuke moved his hand to place the now closed book on the table next to her plate, and as soon as he placed his arm around her shoulders, Sakura knew it was time for them to talk about serious matters.

“Are you feeling better now?” He asked, his voiced laced with sincere concern.

“Yeah.. I guess it was just the first of many stressful days that are to come.”

“How are things at the hospital?”

“Well, we still don’t have any cases confirmed, but people are scared.” She bit her lip, her voice dropping an octave in apprehension.

“Are you?”

“I'm terrified, Sasuke-kun.” She spoke, sincerely, for she knew there was no use in lying to him at that moment. Sakura had to be honest with the Uchiha in order to show him the risks of being at her apartment. His chances of getting sick were a lot higher if he stayed with her, and that was a risk she wasn’t willing to take so she could have him around every day. “The hospital has already given us the PPEs, but that doesn’t mean we’re out of danger. Lots of health workers will be infected and there’s nothing we can do about it. We don’t know what will happen to us.”

At her words, he felt his arm tightening his grip around her shoulder, and Sakura couldn’t tell if he he was aware of that reaction. She could feel her heart aching inside her chest due to the uncertainty of what would happen in the next couple of days, and even if she is a responsible adult who understood their situation, it wouldn’t be easy to come home and not find him reading his book on the couch.

She shifted her position, then, her eyes now locked with his dark ones. Both of them were holding a serious and longing expression, and it was as if they knew what was going to happen next. Sakura took a deep breath, bitting her lip for a second before deciding to speak. “You know you can’t stay with me, right?”

Their eyes remained locked for a couple of seconds, as if they were talking their own, intimate language. Through the years, in the same way he has learned to read her like an open book, Sakura has also learned to identify his real emotions through his pitch-black orbs. He didn’t like that situation. In fact, Sasuke hated it. Not just because he wouldn’t be able to see her for who knows how long, but mostly because she would be out there, on the front lines.

Just like she said, there was no guarantee that she would be okay within the next couple of weeks, and knowing she would be risking her life while he did nothing was the worst part. Though he understood the importance of social distancing in order to help the health workers, it would all be in vain if she was contaminated.

And she was going to be contaminated. He was aware of the statistics involving the medical professionals, and he knew better than to believe she would escape those numbers. She’s strong and even her boss says she’s an exceptional doctor for her age, but she’s no superhero. His girlfriend is still just a human at the end of the day, and the virus won’t spare her just because he wants to.

She will be in danger. She will be in danger, lonely and knowing her like he does, she will forget about herself in order to take care of the others.

Even if not on purpose, Sakura was going to neglect her own health, he knew. And even if he wanted to ignore the risks and stay by her side during the hard times that were to come, he knew he would only make things worse for her. Though he wanted to, he couldn’t go against her words at that moment. Not when she was looking at him with such pleading eyes.

“Aah.” He answered, his voice as low as a whisper, and that was probably the hardest ‘yes’ he has ever given her. Her eyes softened at his words, as if a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

A silent sigh escaped her lips after that, but no word came out from her mouth. Instead, she remained looking into his eyes for a couple of seconds more, and slowly, Sakura leaned in to plant a chaste and longing kiss on his lips. Their eyes closed, and neither of them knew for how long their lips remained together. Her right hand cupped his left cheek in an affectionate way, and immediately, he knew what she meant with that kiss.

‘Arigato.’

Though unspoken, he could feel her feelings of gratitude through the way their lips touched, and at that moment, he could only hope to be doing the right thing. Damn it, he had to be.

After a while, then, the warmth of her lips was nothing but a ghost haunting him. They remained looking at each other for a little longer, until Sakura shifted her body, again, so she could turn off the lamp before leaning against him once more. Her head now rested on his chest, their legs entangled and his arms encircling her petite body to bring her closer, in fear she would just disappear. Both of them remained silent for a couple of minutes in the darkness of her living room, thinking about the inevitable future ahead of them, until the raven haired boy was the first to reestablish their communication.

“Sakura, promise me you’ll take care of yourself.” He ordered, concern dripping from his voice. “And if anything happens, you call me immediately."

“I will, I promise.” She nodded, closing her eyes. “You too, Sasuke-kun. You can call me anytime.”

“Good.”

"Are you going back to your parents’ to stay with them?”

“No. I’ll text the Dobe in the morning. There’s still a spare bed at his apartment.”

“Oh, you and Naruto quarantining together?” She spoke, a bit of joy once more present in her voice. “There’s no way this is going to work out.”

“Hn.” He nodded, closing his eyes and allowing his body to relax. Apparently, neither of them would move out of that couch any time soon, and he couldn’t find it in himself to complain. “You know he won’t survive this quarantine all alone. Eventually, he will try to leave home to do something stupid, so someone has to stop him.”

“Fair enough.” She chuckled. "I’ll be counting on you, then.”

“Aah.” He said, his ears focusing on her steady breath. Judging by the way she relaxed in his arms, he could tell Sakura was drifting away and he could feel himself doing the same. A sigh escaped his lips, and even though he was not completely happy about the way their night ended, he figured that was not the time to worry about that.

It was really late, after all. And the next day—oh, the next day—

Who could possibly know what was going to happen?

the end.

a/n: so, should I continue?

#sasusaku #sasusaku fanfiction #sasusaku fanfic #sasusaku fic #naruto #myssfics

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x-starling-x · 4 years

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here is what i think of jikook - the ship between BTS Jimin and BTS Jungkook. i know i'll probably get alot of hate and disagreement on this matter, but i really wanted to share my thoughts with other people. please don't attack me over this, it is merely an opinion and even if yours is different to mine, it doesn't invalidate it. let me begin.

i think Jimin and Jungkook are real to some extent and i believe they are a couple. *cue the screaming of outraged taekookers across the globe*. now, just let me repeat myself, just as my opinion doesn't invalidate yours, yours doesn't invalidate mine. i really do believe that they are real.

why, i hear you say. here's why.

in korea, alot of times friendships between the same gender are just seen as skinship and for some that is true, but for Jimin and Jungkook, i don't think it is. when they first formed the band with the rest of the members, Jimin was a very zealous and flirtatious friend to Jungkook. he'd always comment on how much he liked and adored Jungkook. he also always asked for kisses and other forms of affection and he was practically glued to Jungkook's side, feeding him compliments and trailing him wherever he went. now this could've been seen as a thing that normal friends did, platonic love is very strong after all, but Jungkook didn't really respond well to the attention. he was naturally a very shy, guarded guy that valued his space and was quite awkward. then he was bombarded by this eager friend that always seemed to have an eye on him. he pushed Jimin away firmly and told him to back off. he always seemed tense whenever Jimin instigated these types of things. he even told Jimin to stop. this all implied that he didn't feel comfortable with Jimin's behaviour and that it wasn't a natural, flowing thing that happened between them. then there was the matters of him ranking Jimin last in looks, singing, style etc. also the harsh, cold things that he'd say to Jimin. from these events, it became clear, or so people thought, that Jungkook hated Jimin.

so when the situation completely changed; Jimin being more aloof and not so obsessed with Jungkook and Jungkook actually caring and coddling Jimin, it struck many as odd. but not me. it was clear to me from day one that Jungkook cared for Jimin far more than he'd ever admit or show. little gestures such as: looking at Jimin for encouragement, letting Jimin support him when he didn't know what to say, actually seeming more relaxed with Jimin than other members, heck him even saying that, "Jimin hyung is very nice and the person I find easiest to talk to. i'm just cold (shy)," all pointed to the obvious - JUNGKOOK LIKES JIMIN AS WELL. *the taekookers gasp*.

and slowly over time it became even more apparent. let's take for example: the gcf in Tokyo. now this itself is quite intimate for Jungkook. to take Jimin to another country, just the two of them, without cameras for a couple of days was something very sentimental and arguably unlike Jungkook to do. *cue taekookers pulling up youtube playlists of sentimental taekook moments*. no, i don't mean to say that Jungkook is an ice prince with an unbreakable heart of cold. nope. what i do mean to say is that he's quite reserved, especially back then, and i haven't seen him do something quite like that for anyone else aside from Jimin. even more strange, he made a video, hence the gcf in the title, starring Jimin (who didn't know at the time that it was going to be aired) and their travels and experiences through Tokyo. now here's the part where it gets interesting. Jungkook has already said that his editing of the gcf was based of an already existing youtube video where it tells you how to video your lover. yep you heard me. *cue squealing of taekookers saying that that doesn't mean anything*. pretty sure it does hun, but that's not the point. anyways, in the video it gives a list of instructions some being stuff like doing shots of your lover framed by an airplane window or of your lover eating or against a mirror. one of the last steps was to use music that meant alot to you and held an element of something that you related to yourself. and guess what music Jungkook used? a gay love song by Troye Sivan, who is one of the biggest gay icons out there. if that doesn't tell you anything, then i don't know what will. another thing that supports my earlier point of Jungkook's ever clearer admiration of Jimin is him getting Jimin and only Jimin a birthday present. now this may seem a tiny thing, but Jungkook is very bad at giving gifts and hasn't given a member a birthday gift before Jimin. and after him, he didn't do so again. this is very telling. it's clear proof that Jungkook does love and care about Jimin and even if people say he doesn't, it can't lessen what he feels or take away from the truth of these statements. and it is very clear, as i have earlier shown, that Jimin loves and cares for Jungkook too.

now i understand that all this can be written off as extremely intimate friendship, but there was something very eye-catching and unique about jikook to me, from the beginning. if i told you every little thing about why they are possibly real, we'd be here a while and i have got to get some beauty sleeo, it's already 12 am.

so if you wanna know the ins and outs of this explained as best as possible, please go on youtube and search for:

The Ultimate Jikook Video.

it tells you alot of what you need to know. heck that video coupled with my suspicions were the real things that got me into believing that jikook is real. please watch it. you will not regret it, i PROMISE.

this post is slowly coming to an end, but there's one more thing that i need to address. often times when i bring up jikook, I'm treated like I'm just a delulu 11 year old girl or something. people say this even though they don't know a single thing about jikook. they don't understand and aren't willing to see the receipts to why it might be real. not only with jikook, but with alot of gay ships, shippers are made to feel like crazy, obsessed sasaengs when we really have a valid and mature opinion just like everyone else in this world about EVERYTHING. what's really immature is dismissing a person's opinion about something that you know nothing about.

and just as a disclaimer, i know tons about taekook. i try to look into every ship before i make judgements. and really, jikook have been the only ship that I've ever thought might actually be real. that might not mean anything to you, but it does to me.

i've talked about alot of what i wanted to, so i'm gonna end the post here, but before i do i just want to say that i love you. despite what race, gender, sexuality or ship you ship or group you stan. in the end we all have one thing in common: we're all living, breathing humans that have a chance at life. and bullying someone and spoiling what is their only chance is wrong and such an awful thing to do. what seperates us shouldn't be whether our skin is brown or white or whether we like kissing a guy more than a girl. what seperates us is the things we do, for good and for bad. that's why my blog is safe to everyone, no matter who they are, if they're a good person. remember that if no one loves you, not even yourself, i will.

❤❤❤❤

#bts #jungkook #love #jimin #jikook

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castleuofc · 3 years

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A Review on Human Trafficking in Canada

Almost every country is affected by human trafficking either as a place of origin, a place of transit, or a destination itself. It is one of the most lucrative illegal businesses with estimates of global profits around $31.6 billion a year [source]. Paired with the numbers provided by the International Labour Organization on victims, it would total to an annual profit of $13,000 per victim [source].

On April 30th, 2021, CASTLE held a speaker event featuring Cassaundra, a service provider from ACT Alberta (The Action Coalition on Human Trafficking Alberta), to talk about the scope of human trafficking in Alberta as well as the impact of COVID-19 on the program. Through speaking with Cassaundra, it becomes even more apparent that Alberta is not free from human trafficking either. As services move online and become more dependent on technology, we decided to take a closer look at the impact of human trafficking on Alberta.

1. About the Legality of Sex Work in Alberta

In Canada, there is no explicit prohibition against the exchange of sexual services for profit. Although there is Bill C-36 (which has sparked great controversy and criticism from human rights and sex work advocates) and several provisions that make offences relating to prostitution illegal, it is still difficult for law enforcement agencies to determine whether or not something is sex work or sexual exploitation. The general idea is that sex work is still legal in Canada but the purchase of the service is not (source).

2. Implications of Technology and Social Media

Traffickers integrate technology into every stage of the process, from recruitment to exploitation. The internet has allowed traffickers to reach a larger audience and thus gain more earnings through broadcasting and advertising online. There is also a factor of anonymity that grants traffickers the freedom to build a business that is not directly traceable to themselves.

Reports of nonconsensual pornography uploaded to platforms with online streaming websites such as OnlyFans, Instagram, and other pornographic websites have recently been brought to light. Out of all of these videos, a great portion of them sensationalize nonconsensual relations while some of them may actually be depicting real cases of sexual exploitation. Young people may also be exploiting themselves without being used by traffickers, utilizing social media to sell services.

Overall, ACT Alberta warns people to stay away from media reports which sensationalize human trafficking and cloud the issue with stereotypes and bias.

3. Impact of the Pandemic on Human Trafficking in Alberta

Hundreds of thousands of Albertans have lost their jobs due to the pandemic. A portion of these include sex workers, voluntary or involuntary. To make matters worse, it is harder to connect with clients online due to extra barriers during lockdown. For example, physical abuse becomes harder to identify without video evidence.

Perpetrators are also taking advantage of the fact that vulnerable people are at home and online, turning to hunting and fishing tactics to recruit victims into their illicit businesses. With the profits one can make from human trafficking, it becomes obvious why traffickers are not slowing down during the pandemic.

4. Key Takeaways

During the pandemic, barriers to working with human trafficking victims are heightened with everyone moving online. Oftentimes, reaching out to a victim via technological means may create more harm than intended, because their traffickers may be monitoring the victims. Chances are, victims may also be stuck in the same location as their traffickers, creating more harm should they already be experiencing psychological injury. Human trafficking is ever so prevalent in Alberta and we encourage people to learn about the issue so they know the warning signs, how to assess a situation, and help fight it

5. How to Help

ACT Alberta offers trainings on the third Thursday every month where they talk about different forms of human trafficking, how to assess, recognize, and the supports that are available. They are one of the many support organizations that respond to human trafficking by conducting community-centered research, creating evidence-based recommendations, and increasing awareness through education. As Caussandra informed, human trafficking affects all demographics across the globe and every experience differs. Encompassing all of this is to do no harm. As outsiders, we do not know the situation nor the extent to which their life is at risk if you take action. Always reach out to organizations first to know what the response protocols would be.

Further action can be taken with the government to help address poverty, unequal opportunities, education, cybersafety, and other issues tied to human trafficking.

Volunteering, raising funds and raising awareness, reporting to Crime Stoppers, becoming involved in an organization in your area are all great ways of fighting human trafficking.

CASTLE encourages Albertans to look into reports of online hotspots for human trafficking and to do research into these internet organizations. As students, our role is to learn how to assess, support, and prevent through learning and educating, so here are some resources you can check out:

ACT Alberta Human Trafficking 101 Training

UNODC Global Report on Trafficking in Persons

An Introduction to Human Trafficking: Vulnerability, Impact and Action

Community Perspectives on the Landscape and Realities of Human Trafficking in Calgary

How to Tell if Someone in a Porn Video is a Trafficking Victim

Impact of the COVID-19 Pandemic on Trafficking in Persons

COVID-19 and Human Trafficking - the Amplified Impact on Vulnerable Populations

#human trafficking #sex trafficking #human rights #human trafficking awareness #calgary #alberta #canada #university

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smokeybrand · 3 years

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Mutiny

I’m not a fan of Joe Rogen. I find a lot of what he says to be problematic as f*ck but the way he says it, is FAR more damaging. Dude pushes some wild, dangerous, nonsense under the guise of “free speech”, disingenuous “debate”, and insidiously leading questions. Rogen is the Frat Boy version of Tucker Carlson in a lot of ways and that sh*t just doesn’t appeal to me. Beta males who think too highly of themselves listen to this due and take him seriously. These are people who are not self-actualized, who’s entire personality is based on their car or their sneakers or some other superficial bullsh*t they confuse for a personality, and that’s what Rogen’s entire show is; Superficial bullsh*t. So when he pushes dumb-f*ckery like “Don’t get the shot if you’re young and healthy”, these idiots who are either teenagers or have the mentality of teenagers, f*cking listen and we have a spike in cases. Because Joe Rogen said so.

The other day, this asshole bought into that whole “White Fear” sh*t, talking about how the Straight White Male is the most persecuted demo in America and i just groaned. This is the same exact sh*t Carlson does on his show, verbatim, just slightly less racist. It’s the current strategy of what is fast becoming the American Fascist Party, Republicans. It’s hypocritical f*cking nonsense and i hate it. How the f*ck would Joe Rogen, a Straight White Male with a whole ass podcast, be silenced or censored or persecuted/ He’s a multi-millionaire with one of the most popular platforms on f*cking Spotify. How the f*ck would any White person, especially Straight White Males, get silenced in the US? The bones of this country are built to uphold a very specific form of White Supremacy. Hell, cats talk about all these rights and liberties but, in the very beginning, those rights were only extended to White Male Landowners; basically Rich White Men, and guess who the f*ck Joe Rogen is? The constitution had to be amended to include every one else which means this country was designed to be a haven for objective White Supremacy. The fact that they replaced Straight with Rich is just a misnomer used to broaden that division and you have assholes with real audiences buying into that dangerous bullsh*t, disseminating that poison to their followers. And they just drink that persecution complex kool-aid, up. It’s f*cking absurd.

The irony in all of this is the fact that the country is getting younger and browner. Statistically, by the time Gen Z’s kids come of age, we’ll outnumber White people. The margin will be slight but they’ll be the overall minority in this country and that’s why we have all of this fear-mongering and treasonous tantrums. That system the Founding Fathers built to protect their power, is falling apart. It's all a matter of time. Why do you think they're fighting so hard to keep DC and Puerto Rico from becoming actual States? I can guarantee those cats who signed the Constitution never anticipated the influx of melanated people over the years, interbreeding with their lily White sensibilities, or the homogeneity desegregation would bring to society or the way Black culture ended up shaping the entire American zeitgeist or how the Internet just blew the doors off any illusion US citizens had about our true status in the world at large. I was born in 1984. Ten years before i existed, the South was still heavily segregated. My generation, the Millennials, were the very first to be completely free from the social consequences of the Civil Rights Movement. We were far enough removed from that to just see people, not race. I was exposed to so many more cultures, religions, and people, as a kid, than my ma had been when she was young. It wasn’t like, all of a sudden, we were singing kumbaya together, but it was definitely a start, one that has only gained more and more momentum as the Generations who came after mine, started coming of age in a world whose borders are just ceremonial at this point because of the Tech age.

I met my chick and made friends across the globe in a chatroom. One of my closest friends lives in New Zealand. Another stays in Finland. My birthday twin lives in England. She’s a year older than i am and has a beautiful family. My Puerto Rican sister met her dude around the same time i met my chick. He’s from Alabama. She moved from the island to be with him and they've settled down in Georgia where they share a beautiful daughter. My best friend became so close with an Asian girl from Australia, that he adopted her as his own sister. They spoke at least twice a week for the next fifteen years, all the way up until he passed away. The world is much smaller, much clearer, than it has ever been before, and it turns out that it’s full of color. Color these Straight White Men are, apparently, terrified of. That’s got to be it. That’s got to be why they’re throwing these big ass tantrums and constantly fear-mongering about it. I don’t understand. When Brie Larson said what she said, it was the truth. There are THOUSANDS of films about White dudes you can watch. The entirety of film history is Straight White Males. What is so bad abut getting some chicks or People of Color or some LBGTQ representation in a few leads? Why can't we have strong Black performances in movies where we don't play the “magical Negro” or f*cking Slave? Why can't we have an all Asian cast when the principals aren't constantly fetishized? What is so terrible about giving a role to a Muslim that isn't linked to some ridiculous terrorist trope? Who’s really offended by this and why are they so goddamn fervent about it? Straight White Males, bud.

It’s because their grip on the reins is slipping. The power and the privilege they’ve had for so long, too long, is started to tip in the other direction. The playing field is, ever so slowly, evening out and these Straight White Males are losing their sh*t. They’ll talk about “being racist against white people” and “it's fine to interview everyone but hire cats who are qualified” with one breath but then absolutely savage voting rights directly focused on crippling the Black vote and desperately cling to the idea that 45 still deserves to be president, even though a steady stream of his criminal incompetence has been flowing out of the the White House since he’s left. The level cognitive dissonance is f*cking hilarious. It’s as bad as the GOP complaining about “cancel culture” while literally silencing Liz Cheney. Are you f*cking kidding me? I gotta sit here and listen to a very vocal minority complain about the direction of the MCU because they’ve decided to add a plethora of female and POC roles going forward into Phase Four. They keep asking “who's this for?” and it's obvious it's for everyone, not just Straight White Males. That, to them, means it's going to be bad. Just because the focus has shifted from three White dudes in leading roles, suddenly the MCU has lost it's way. It’s like, all of a sudden, just because the MCU wants to represent their audience as a whole, not just a narrow and shrinking part of it, we’re not supposed to trust in Feige anymore. Are you kidding me? The Green Knight is slated to be another massive hit for A24. The cat who wrote that film was bounced from studio to studio because he created that story specifically as a vehicle for Dev Patel and no major studio wanted to make it with him in the lead. Dev Patel is a f*cking Oscar winner and a brilliant actor but this movie, draped in surreal and beautiful imagery, driven by a visceral, bloody, focus, wasn’t going to get made because the lead this plot was specifically written for, happens to be brown. But Straight White Males are the ones being silenced? Okay, bud.

Joe Rogen is a symptom of a greater problem and it’s the problem of White Fragility. White Fragility fuels the worst of our society. It's the genesis of racism and bigotry. It drives Nationalism and is fertile ground for cults of personality which blossom into whole ass dictatorships. These motherf*ckers are in they’re feelings and will burn this country to the ground if it means they will stop getting their way. Brie Larson calls out the ridiculousness of the race bias in Hollywood? They attack. Arizona flips Blue because Indigenous people and Black folks come out to vote in droves? Voter fraud and four recounts, one months after the election has been called and Biden has already taken office. Jordan Peele says, out loud, to the entire country, that he’s not interested in telling stories with White people in the lead? Shadow banned from Hollywood. Dude was the toast of Hollywood after Get Out and Us. He said what he said and cat's been trapped behind the camera as a Producer ever since. It’s nuts because these people complaining about how hard it is to be and how unfair the current social climate is to Straight White Males, have called Twatter NPCs whiny, SJW, children, for years. Bro,you’re the same, just racist! You are the Trump to their Obama. You are the thermodynamic reaction to their Civil action. You assholes are arguing the same merit, just on the opposite ends of the spectrum so, if they’re whiny assholes, wouldn’t you have to be, too? The only difference is that the Twatter assholes have a zeal for inclusion while you Rogen Bros have a penchant for White Supremacy and, given the choice, I'd have to agree with the Blue Checkmarks in this regard.

Straight White Males have had the run of this country since before it was a country and look what they’ve done with it. Look where we are, right now, in the year of our lord, 2021. This is as far as we have come under their stewardship. It’s time for a new captain, i think. Sorry if that hard truth hurts your feelings. Now please steer us away from those very obvious rocks. I’d rather not violently crash into that reef and sink into a watery grave before we can get our hands on the wheel to right this ship, all because you assholes are in your feelings, thank you.

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borisbubbles · 4 years

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28. ITALY

Diodato - “Fai Rumore”

youtube

And we’re back to our usual disconnect, where everyone pretends to love Italy and I don’t. I cannot wait for all the Italian crazies to be OUTRAGED by this ranking (28/41 is fine for an entry I don’t care about...?) and reblog this all over the tumblrverse and inflate my reader stats. 😈 but first, let’s discuss what we have on our hands here.

Song Analysis

There’s no way this post *won’t* end up offensive to every Fai Rumore fan, so I will resort to brutal honesty. I never, ever, *ever* cared about “Fai rumore”. In fact, I’d even say it’s strongly overrated by the gross of the Eurovision fandom?

Okay so here’s the deal. I will not deny that “Fai Rumore” has several things going for it. The song has emotional gravitas, Diodato has a great voice and acts very well. It’s technically precise and well produced. It is very competent at what it sets out to be, which is a very standard HQ Sanremo Power Ballad.

But here’s where I feel like I deviate from the norm: You may think “wow Fai Rumore! How brilliant, meticulous and poised”, but I think “how expected, overtly earnest and unfun?”

The problem is, this is Boris’s Bubble and Boris doesn’t enjoy songs that feel like they belong inside a trophy cupboard, and “Fai rumore” is exactly one of those songs, don’t lie. So “meticulous, poised and brilliant” you say, well *I* say “how overtly earnest, unfun and aloof”? I have a Spotify - if I wanted to listen to good music, I’d just use that? Or one of my like 15 Youtube Playlists containing non-ESC entries? Why would I watch Eurovision, or Sanremo for that matter, for the good music when there are so many other (and easier) options available for me that align better to my tastes?

The fact that “Fai Rumore” is *too* perfect for me (and therefore very hard to empathize with imo) is one thing, which leads to other thing I need to point out. I’ll let my friend Matthew take over here, who wrote this paragraph on ESCUnited right after Diodato’s selection:

That final sentences is bone-chilling because it’s so, so true. “I AM A SOPHISTICATED MUSIC FAN BECAUSE I FOLLOW ~FESTIVALE DI SANREMO~” is such a common trope of elistism (like, replace “San Remo” with any quality newspaper, nobel prize winning author or classical music composer and you’ll find to be nearly universally applicable to snobs across the globe), but I find it specifically ugly in Eurovision.

You see, would the same courtesy be extended to a country of lower prestige if they got a Fai Rumore? Would the same courtesy be extended to a person of colour? or a woman? How about others songs that, like Fai Rumore, emulate their country’s musical traditions (Fai Rumore is SO italian you can smell the basil), except those traditions fall outside of the western European bubble? See, it doesn’t bother me that Italians like Fai Rumore and are proud of it. They’re Italians. Of course they are! I don’t judge them for it. I don’t rly care if the odd introvert finds solace in a song of this calibre. But as soon as Matthew made the aforementioned post, people who had previously rated Diodato as a 5/6 already started adjusting their scores to 10s and 12s and, well...

It bothers me that the same fanbase that DEMANDS cultural diversity (Diodato) and/or MOAR ETHNOBOPS (Efendi) refuse to accept a Solovey or an Origo -which are a thousandfold more layered, sophisticated and daring- as an equal.

It bothers *even more* me that people are willing to immediately give Italy a plethora of chances (especially when they choose men! fuck institutionalised sexism!), while not doing the same for a Belarus. Belarus HAS no clear musical scene or funds to really produce good music, yet produced a ridiculously good NF (with a VERY righteous winner - yes, Chakras, but also: Chakras) I’ve seen snobs SLAM VAL, mercilessly despite being an excellent left-field pick (god imagine if Yan had won Eurofest for a sec. What a nightmare). Italy, otoh, also delivered a sterling NF, have *a VERY* rich musical tradition, tons of talent and money and production value... and they still went the lowest common denominator available, and yet they receive praise, without so much as a whisper of protest from our so-called “value seekers”. This level of hypocrisy and double standard wielding, all in the name of wishing to be taken seriously delivers *such* a toxic undercurrent to Eurovision and has absolutely soured me on Diodato. This isn’t his fault, but sadly he’s become a weapon of mass misconstruction and well just because I hate the guy who pressed the big red button more doesn’t mean I automatically like ICBMs. As we come near the songs I actually give a damn’ about, I will start calling the shitpociries out. Brace yourself for it, when I rank Solovey and Da Vidna inside my top five.

Want some examples specifically pertaining to the Diodato fandom? Sure, I’ll give you some:

EJEMPLO UNO:

Diodato fanboys openly coddling him on social media post-lockdown all “PROTECT OUR POOR MUNCHKIN FROM THE CORONAVIRUS”. Like... he’s a *thirty-eight year old adult* he can take care of himself, BACK UP OFF HIM you freaks.

EJEMPLO DOS:

The relevant media having baptized Diodato as THE SAVING GRACE OF THE LOCKDOWN, ITALIANS SINGING ‘FAI RUMORE’ FROM THEIR BALCONIES IN DEFIANCE OF COVID-19, which is such a bullshit narrative it’s turned my hair from black to brown. Yes, the Italians sang “Fai Rumore”. What they don’t tell you is that they also sang many other Italian and non-Italian songs, including humanitarian anthem “Roar” by Kety Perr (cue to Katy Perry being like “OMG I’M SO HONORED TO INSPIRE SO MANY ITALIANS ::hungarianflagemoji::” on twitter.). CNN Like, Eurovision related media LOVE portraying it as a ~life-chaning confort anthem~ - the reality is that “Fai rumore”, while playing its part, was merely a tiny spoke in a giant wheel.

EJEMPLO QUATRO:

Well take a look at how many people will reblog this post and slam it for daring to point out, what I think are really obvious truths to anyone who doesn’t suffer from musical myopia.

In the end, the song is okay and it’s okay to love it. But if you ‘love’ it because you’ve convinced yourself that you must, and not because it genuinely means something to you, I don’t think you have grounds to criticise to criticise anyone but yourself.

NF Corner

As I said, I didn’t follow San Remo live (I never do! *gasp* blasphemy, I know), but I did plan to check it for this write-up except RAI deleted every live performance? And they won’t let me embed the few remaining vids either?

Anyway, this happened so right-click-open this a new tab and then return once you’ve finished it.

Backstage feuds being fought out LIVE on the stage in front of millions of viewers 😍 Apparently Morgan and Bugo were at loggerheads for a while, and had a massive row RIGHT before their performance on the second night, which caused Morgan to stray from the script and sing all the insulting things Bugo told him *to Bugo* instead of the actual lyrics of their duet. 😍 😍 😍 Bugo IMMEDIATELY stormed off the stage to the point where Amadeus had to like... literally tell the gobsmacked audience that Bugo had left the building 😍 😍 😍. This is some god-tier pettiness and I’m completely in awe of it. DEITIES. 😍

aside from Sincerogate, I would’ve embedded vidoes that contained the DRAMA (Rancore), CAMP (Achille) and UNABASHED WEIRDNESS (Levante) of this year’s line-up, but I guess RAI really doesn’t like for people to have fun. Oh well.

Italy 2020 vs Italy 2021

Diodato is male and Italian, so yeah, guaranteed top 10 in Rotterdam, no matter what happens. Search your feelings, you know it to be true. Cynicism aside, televoters WOULD have flocked to it without thinking twice (for exactly those two reasons), passing over many better entries in the process and well... I’m tired and exhausted and I think you can guess I am not very impressed by this likely outcome.

Not sure what RAI’s strategy for 2021 is (lol it’s RAI - they don’t have a strategy. besides Italy have bigger fish to fry than the Eurovision Song Contest as you know), but I’m not very invested either way. I could imagine them internally selecting Diodato if he’s willing to do ESC in 2021, but if this was a one-off deal (which I think it was), they will probably select another plain white bloke for you to obsess over, so no worries :-) #TuttoVaPene

FREAKY! FRIDAY! FACTOR!

I’m sort of conflicted? On one hand, god Fai Ru*snore* is SO typical of “Italy in Eurovision”, not just from a musical perspective but from a point of reverence as well. On to the other hand, when are the fanbases *not* acting insane w/r/t Italy?

San Remo was really crazy this year, enough for me to award Italy a couple Senheads. However... if I wanted to see nice and inoffensive triumph over a bunch of deranged, gimmicky, ott masterpieces, I’d just rewatch #London1977? (offensive take #16: “people that like Marie Myriam the most in 1977 do not understand Eurovision”) Ehhhh whatevs.

Score: 2 Senhits out of 5.

#Eurovision #Eurovision 2020 #Eurovison Song Contest #Italy #Diodato #Fai Rumore

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lailannajacobs · 5 years

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Talk You Out Of It

Pairing: Amelie X Hitman!Bucky

Summary: Amelie goes after a story or more precisely, someone.

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: Mainly fluff!

A/N: Decided to try and see what Amelie’s up to, don’t know if it actually worked or not but seeing as it’s spring break for me, here’s a little surprise Monday post before Thursday’s post! Feedback is always appreciated and welcome!

“I need someone to go after ex sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. You’ve heard of him?”

I nodded, but my boss, Cary, kept going as if he hadn’t.

Typical.

“He’s ex-military. He defected five years ago and has been working as a hitman ever since. If the cops are right, then he’s to blame for over a dozen high profile kills since. I’ve got a source telling me he’s in Boston, about to hit his next target. I want you to find him and get me a killer story before anyone else even thinks about it. And before you say anything, I know you’re a reporter, not a cop, but this could be huge for the Globe.”

Like hell I would say anything. Finally, a real case. “Do you know who the intended target it?”

He shook his head, “my source wouldn’t say. But I need to make sure you’re okay with this Novak. He’s cunning and dangerous. I don’t want you walking into this expecting peaches and roses.”

I nodded, afraid he would take the case away if I looked even the slightest bit unsure. “It’s no problem sir. This will be my number one priority. I’ll stay focused, I promise.”

I could barely contain my excitement.

With a curt nod, he waved me out of his office, apparently satisfied by my conviction. I was almost out of his office, but I couldn’t stop myself from asking the question I’d been dying to know. Curiosity got the best of me.

I paused in the doorway, glancing over my shoulder, trying to look as nonchalant as possible, “Why me?”

He didn’t bother to look up from the papers he was now engrossed by, “They told me, when I hired you, that your biggest asset as a reporter is that you’re constantly being underestimated. I figured the best way to get to someone like him, is to send someone like you. Am I wrong?” he didn’t wait for an answer. “Didn’t think so. Now get to it Novak, somehow I doubt he’ll be here for long.”

I left his office, unable to contain my smile.

I stared at the computer screen finally understanding why Cary had sent me, a reporter of all people, after a known criminal. I had agreed to take on the job because, quite frankly, I’d been stuck with fluff pieces ever since moving to Boston, but really, my first thought had been that maybe the police, FBI, bounty hunters or even PIs would have been better suited for the job.

However, digging up more information on the hitman had made it clear why I had to be the one to find him - or more precisely, find his next target. And no, it wasn’t as simple as finding him to save some man’s life. Or woman. He didn’t seem to care.

I stared at the article from the Chicago Tribune. Dangerous hitman yes, but even I couldn’t deny that he was good at what he did - which happened to be taking out criminals before anyone even knew that’s what they were. The hit would lead to an investigation, which would lead to the exposure of the skeletons in their closets. It didn’t make any of his vigilante hits any less of a crime, it only meant that getting a story like this before anyone else would be huge for anyone who got it. All I had to do was find the scumbag my little hitman was after.

The only problem it seemed, was that no one was ever able to figure out who Barnes’ next target would be before the body dropped. It seemed random, but it couldn’t be. I had reached out to other journalists across the country but all anyone could say was that he was a ghost.

So the problem was finding him.

But that’s where I came in.

I was pretty good at digging up dirt, and better at following a lead but for some reason, I had the uncanny ability to be at the right place at the right time. I never could explain it, not that I tried to - because who wants to sound crazy - but those instincts had lead me in the right direction more often than they hadn’t. It was what I was going to rely on to find him. I figured it was my only advantage over the dozen or so journalists who had gone up against Barnes.

There was a photo in the article of the Sargent from his military days. I didn’t doubt that he looked nothing like the picture now. The cropped dark hair and clean shaven face would be long gone, especially that he was aware he was a wanted criminal. I knew I would have to rely on recognizing the rather striking, ocean coloured eyes. Seeing him in his military uniform made it hard to remember that the sergeant was an infamous hitman.

I kept digging. It seemed that most of his hits were in large, public areas, creating mass chaos and the perfect opportunity to escape. So that’s where I would start. Tomorrow. I wasn’t going to be able to find him without a full night’s sleep and I had promised myself that I would unpack at least three more boxes before the end of the day. Boxes that I should have packed away weeks ago.

I wandered though Quincy Market, weaving through families decked out in Celtic’s green, ready for tonight’s big game against the Raptors. I let myself be stopped by tourists asking for directions, and popped into gift shops, looking for a little trinket to send back to (y/n) to say that I was adapting just fine. If it was weird being friends with your ex’s ex, we had gotten past it a while ago.

I kept an eye out for him. Every ball cap in sight caught my eye, though none were hiding incredibly blue eyes. But I was sure he would be wearing one. It was the best way to go through a crowd incognito and he definitely didn’t want to ping on someone’s radar. Still no sight of him.

After an hour I considered leaving but ended up deciding against it. My instincts had gotten me this far and I wasn’t going to start doubting myself during what was probably the most important story of my career.

Before I could decide where to wander to next, I was sent flying to the ground, pain zinging through my wrists. Where the hell the basketball had come from was beyond me, but I pushed myself up, wincing, as it rolled away.

“I’m so sorry miss, are you all right?”

I took in a deep breath and forced a laugh, “I’m fine, it happens to the best of us right? Let’s just hope none of that happens to our team tonight right?”

The chubby man in a stretched thin jersey picked up the ball and handed it to his son, my assailant. He smiled, most likely pleased by the kind smile, cheery attitude, and the fact that I wasn’t chewing out his son. They always were. Nice was usually seen as a weakness. Nice never seemed to make anyone look twice.

He finished with another apology and whisked his aiming impaired son away. I watched them as they left until settling on someone far more important, about fifty yards behind them. The cap, which is what I spotted first, was a dumb choice on his part. The navy only brought out the colour in his eyes, making it so much easier to spot him.

I grinned.

It was time to pay him a little visit.

I wove through the crowd, with purpose this time, keeping an eye on my target so not to lose him. Stalking him like a creep wouldn’t do any good. I could do that later if need be. Right now, he was probably hyper aware of people trying to tail him, and less wary of people actually trying to talk to him. So that was exactly what I was going to do.

I knew I should feel afraid. There was an incredibly accomplished - albeit good-looking - hitman walking among us, but the only thing I could feel was excitement. I couldn’t remember the last time I had felt it. This was what I was good at. This was what I had come to Boston for.

I tapped on his shoulder, “Hi! I’m a reporter from the Globe’s sports section and we’re conducting a survey to see who’s watching the game tonight and where. Mind if ask you a couple questions?”

He turned around, narrowing his brows, as if surprised to have been spotted in the crowd.

“No.” He answered gruffly, walking away.

I hurried after him, “technically that means you don’t mind!”

He kept walking.

“Please. I’m never going to be taken seriously if I can’t even get this silly task done. And I’m so done with the sports section. Please, just answer one little question for me.” I begged.

He sighed but thankfully stopped, “If you want to be taken seriously then lose the perky attitude.”

Rude.

“I’m asking you a question not asking you to act like an-” I cut myself off, trying to get a grip on the ditzy girl act.

“That’s better.” he smirked. “You get one question.”

I couldn’t roll my eyes at him, no matter how much I wanted to. I couldn’t be threatening or suspicious. He couldn’t suspect that I was anything other than what I pretended to be. A cheery woman, somehow stuck doing an article for the sports section. That’s who I had to be. That’s who I would be.

“If you’re watching the game tonight, are you watching at the Garden, at a bar or at home?”

His face was a perfect image or boredom. I wondered if it was something he practiced in the mirror. “I see why you don’t want to keep asking these questions.”

“I’m glad you agree.” I said dryly, unable to help myself.

He stared, his blue eyes focused solely on me, which meant that he wasn’t looking for someone else. He seemed like he didn’t want to be here, answering questions but he didn’t seem like he was in a rush to leave either. Whoever his target was, he or she wasn’t here. So either my hitman had been fed false information or he was scouting a location rather than looking for a person. It wasn’t much of a clue, but it was something.

“Let me guess,” returning to the perky Amelie act, I hoped to get a solid answer out of him this time. “you seem like the kind of guy who would go to a bar to watch the game.”

He squinted his eyes, so I leaned into the act even further, widening my smile. I couldn’t slip up now. He sighed. If he was suspicious, he quickly dismissed it.

“Are you trying to prove your journalist’s instincts with that question?”

“Are you trying to evade the question?”

“Maybe. What about you?”

“Maybe.”

I held that piercing blue gaze, refusing to be the one to back down first. Arching a brow, silently challenging him, I waited for an answer.

“Yes.” He conceded. “I’ll be watching in a bar tonight.”

I let out a sigh of relief, “Good. Thank you. See, was that so hard?”

He snorted and walked off without another word.

“Have a nice day!” I called after him with fake chipper, muttering asshole under my breath.

He didn’t turn around, not that I had expected him to. I watched him leave until he was out of sight and hopefully I was already out of his mind.

The game didn’t start for another couple hours. I had been hoping he would prove me wrong by saying that he was going to the game tonight but of course he couldn’t make my life easier than it had to be. One arena was a hell of a lot easier to search than over a dozen bars. I couldn’t even be sure he was telling the truth. Odds were, he wasn’t. Yet, as irritating as he was, for some reason, I believed him. Rude hitman didn’t necessarily mean sure liar.

I let out another sigh, the adrenaline wearing off. It had been risky giving myself away so obviously, but I had banked on the fact that not many people, especially someone who looked like I did, would knowingly approach a hitman. Though I still didn’t understand why I hadn’t been intimidated by someone I most likely should have been. Infuriating sure, but he was nothing like the scary man the articles had made him out to be.

There were a couple hours to kill before the game, so I went home. There was no sense in alerting him by following him all afternoon, even it it meant finding him more easily. No journalist had ever gotten close. I wanted to be the first. I would be. None of the others had killer instincts and luck on their side like I did. I sucked in a calming breath. I could do this.

I had tried five different bars before finding him in a pub known to be a hang out for members of the Irish mob. My feet were sore, someone had spilt a drink on me at bar number two when the Celtics had scored, and it had taken an extra fifty just to convince the bouncer to let my through. But it was worth it.

Because I had found him.

Finally.

I had gotten so caught up in trying to find him that I had forgotten to plan out what I would do when I actually did, so I did nothing. I found a seat at the bar and ordered a drink, close enough that I could see him, but far enough that he couldn’t. The pub wasn’t as packed as most of the other placed I’d been to, but it was just as noisy. After finishing the first drink, I still wasn’t sure what to do, so I ordered another one, waiting for my instincts to kick in, and glancing at him from time to time. That was, until he wasn’t there anymore.

I cursed myself for being so sloppy and pushed off, only to run into a broad chest in a grey tee and leather jacket. I tilted my head only to realize I was face to face with the exact man I was looking for. His narrowed eyes probably meant it wasn’t a good thing. I smiled.

He leaned over so that I could hear him when he growled, “sit down.”

My eyes widened in nonexistent fear, following his order, while he slid into the free seat on the right and ordered a drink, letting me stew. He was probably hoping to ramp up my supposed fear, which, unfortunately for him, had absolutely no effect on me. Although to give him credit, it probably would have worked on most people. But he had no idea; I wasn’t most people.

“Who are you?”

“Oh! Right! You didn’t get my name earlier. I promise I’m not stalking you or anything, it’s purely personal.” I could tell the sweetness in my voice threw him off guard so I continued, laying it on thick. “It’s not everyday I get to interview someone so…handsome. I just thought that if I ran into you tonight-”

“Who are you?” he interrupted.

Clearly manners weren’t his thing. I forced a giggle even though it was getting harder to keep up the charade. What I really wanted to do was shake him and tell him that manners were for everyone, including good looking hitmen.

I extended my hand. “Amelie Novak.”

He looked as though he thought it might bite him but took my hand anyways.

“I wasn’t expecting such a firm grip.”

“From someone so perky?” I asked with a pointed look.

I couldn’t help it. His attitude made it impossible not to want to answer in this same tone, regardless of the goal here.

He let out something that might have been a laugh, if hitmen did indeed laugh. And judging by the looks of him, it wasn’t thing that he did all that often. At least not in from of other people anyways. But before I could go ahead and psychoanalyze him, he stood up.

“I’m flattered by your…interest, but I have to go. If you’re lucky, some overgrown frat boy will take my place.”

I was too annoyed to be insulted. “I tried that already.” I muttered, thinking of Bryan as he left, “didn’t work out.”

I ordered another drink, following him out the bar with my eyes. I wasn’t going to get anything else out of him tonight. Or at least, that’s what I had thought before realizing that he was following someone else out of the bar. Someone I very much recognized. And if that man was my hitman’s target, then all I had to do was find that man’s dirty little secrets. And finding skeletons was something I was pretty good at.

The article had gone viral. Mine. Amelie Novak’s. Cary had actually smiled when I had turned it in two days ago. It had managed to get enough press that even (y/n) had heard about it. Thinking about it still made me giddy. The man, a corrupt CEO, working with the Irish mob, had been placed in protective custody, despite his white collar crimes. Putting him in jail would make it too easy for any good hitman to finish the job.

I probably should have felt better about having saved a life but it was hard to feel proud when the man was pretty much a grade A scumbag. I didn’t want to think too long about what kind of person that made me.

I fumbled with my keys, trying not to drop any of my grocery bags as I let myself into my apartment. It was late evening and the place was dark, the city lights barely making their way through the window. Without any strength left in my arms to flip the switch - gone from carrying the milk jug, eggs and five pound sac of potatoes - I wandered into the kitchen blindly.

“I’d have to say I’m impressed.”

I shrieked, almost dropping the bags. My heart hammered but I didn’t move to turn on the lights. I didn’t need to. I recognized the voice in the dark. Sargent James Buchanan Barnes was in my kitchen. And he was most definitely trespassing.

#Bucky Barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky imagine #MCU fic #MCU fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic #marvel fanfiction

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hollowhollowheart · 5 years

Note

1/4 I think a lot of the people who were made very angry by your post is because there is a very loud and very “mainstream” trans lobby so to speak that advocate that homosexuality IS wrong and these people have large gsm media on their side. There are normal trans people who aren’t like this, but the momentum of things such as the cotton ceiling(pls look this up) means lesbians are getting stomped on and are sensitive

2/4 When there are quiet, normal trans women who respect homosexuality and understand that 99.9999% of lesbians are fundamentally incapable of finding them attractive, there’s no issue. When lesbians are being pressured by the Mainstream! community with conversion therapy tactics? When biology is being lauded as fake? There is absolutely an issue.

3/4 Instead of taking this interaction as “all radfems are rude transphobic harpies”, I implore you to look a little deeper into what is causing this strife. Look at the prominent leaders of trans organizations and the homophonic sentiment and sexual abuse they spit out. There are reasons for the anger here.

4/4 Lots of radfems or gender criticals are just women who were tired of being stepped on by identity politics and the rampant misogyny within it or are lesbians who were tired of being harassed. This is a complicated, painful issue that can’t be contained to one posts discourse. If you actually want to talk, ask me to pm you.

5/4 I’m sending these anon because I don’t want hate if my url gets out and I’m on the “wrong side of the discourse”. Please respect that. 👋

I completely understand the anger shown. I do not blame them for all the shit that they’re going through. I never said I don’t understand, I never said I wanted them to angrily defend their position on my post, which only wanted to start a conversation to create understanding.

I never said “all radfems are rude transphobic harpies.” I don’t know where you got that from. I did say radfems are mean. If you look through the notes, all you see are people calling me homophobic, people calling me a dirty trans person, people thinking that I’m a rape apologist, or whatever.

I looked through my innocent post one day, and saw people slandering me for whatever bullshit they thought I said. I’m apparently a dumb transgender person who thinks my opinion is right.

Almost no one took me seriously, when I asked for a discussion. I’m trying to understand. I don’t do well with yelling. But that’s what everyone did. They called me clueless, called me this, and that, and told me I knew nothing about the community.

Yeah! You’re right. I don’t know much. I just left my parents, just started to realize who I am. I’m trying to learn. But all I heard was hate.

Newsflash. Opinions are opinions. Here’s the truth: I’m currently questioning my sexuality after being convinced for years by my religious parents that I was straight. I know what homophobia feels like. I’m trying to understand the community that I suddenly realized I was a part of not even a year ago. I’m not transgender. I’m a questioning woman of color who suddenly realized that I’m not as straight as I had thought.

I want to understand. I think we all want to understand. I don’t mind you getting mad at people who are being mean to you. I don’t mind that at all. Believe in what you want to believe.

But getting mad doesn’t solve issues. It breaks down the community. Why are you calling people homophobes online as if it’s the only thing you’re doing? Why aren’t we focusing on real issues that affect people? Like gay people being murdered in not just other countries, but even in places like the United States. Trans people of color are being murdered almost constantly. Gay people are being oppressed in nations like Russia. There are real issues in the world here, not who’s going to sleep with someone else.

I’m not saying your issue isn’t real. I’m just saying that this inter-community issue seems to put all of us in Discomfort Central. We should be able to discuss our issues instead of yelling and calling everyone slurs. We should be able to respect trans people, especially their gender. Misgendering trans people incites violence, incites anger, makes it all worse. We should be able to respect radical beliefs, even if you think it’s a bit too radical. Calling them rude names, throwing around the d-slur, or whatever... that, too, incites anger, violence, makes everyone worse than it already is.

This is no longer discussion and trying to create an understanding. This is just mindless yelling that separates us even farther. Plus, people are yelling to “drop the T” or “take out the L” and all the yelling makes everyone tired, angry, upset...

I understand how these lesbians feel attacked. I understand. I also understand from trans friends that they’ve also encountered people who are both interested and not interested in them. It’s alright. It’s okay. But some people feel entitled. Okay. Cool. Figure that out between yourselves. There are some people that are on the other side of radfems that are extreme too. People that call everyone transphobes if they don’t understand. People that tell lesbians and gay people that their sexuality has to be this or else. Both sides are at fault here. Do not mistake this as a call to hate on radfems.

But don’t you think talking calmly and bringing up points and trying to be nice... don’t you think that makes people a bit more empathetic, more able to reason with, and more understanding? I know some people have been disrespected due to these arguments. So will you battle fire with fire? Will you burn down the entire community? Put down your swords, your guns, your anger for a moment and realize that we’re all human beings.

We all deserve love and respect, whether you’re transgender or whether you’re a gay person who isn’t interested in trans people. We all deserve respect, whether you’re a radfem or a libfem. All of us, we’re human beings. I love everyone in this world. My love has only one limit: those who spread hate and injustice.

Will you spread hate through a community that’s already been hated from outside of the community? What will you do when gay rights are challenged across the globe? What will you do? Continue to battle it out amongst yourselves, calling for trans rights, calling for lesbian rights, calling for whatever? There are no winners here. No one wins here. You are deluding yourselves if that’s what you think.

I know people are still yelling at my post. In fact, I’m glad this is a sideblog so that I don’t have to see it on my main. People are saying stuff, but I don’t bother anymore. I understand. You feel attacked by my thoughts, as if I’m trying to convince you to sleep with trans people. Sure. Go ahead. I’m not paying attention anymore. But... maybe there’s a better way.

My motto was always to preach love and respect, even to those who you don’t understand, those who you don’t agree with. And I’ll continue that, with or without this blog. And I’m choosing without.

If you ever see this, no matter what you believe, know that I wish the best for you. Have a nice day.

#thank you for being respectful #also of course #stay anonymous #i had anon on for a reason #if you want to message me #you can #but i'm never posting again #discourse #Anonymous

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lena-in-a-red-dress · 6 years

Text

The Supercorp Christmas Princess AU idea no one asked for

This idea borrows heavily from the Netflix original movie “A Christmas Prince”, which essentially follows the plot of any Christmas princess movie ever. The details are just more specific to this film because I watched it most recently.

The Luthors are the ruling family of Aldovia. Lex is the eldest child of the royal family, the heir apparent. He has a reputation of blowing off his responsibilities and partying all night every night. Lena is his younger sister, adopted and far more responsible. Since King Lionel’s death the year before, Lena has been running the country while her brother uses the year-between-kings to sow his wild oats before being shackled by responsibility.

Kara plays the reporter tasked with covering the upcoming coronation for CatCo media, and goes to Aldovia to report on location. Lex blows off the initial press conference, and when the press are returned to their hotels, Kara ends up helping some hapless delivery guy carry his stuff inside the palace using a service entrance. Of course once she drops off the goods, Kara gets distracted by all the “ooh! pretty!” art and such, and then gets lots inside the palace, on her own, still wearing her press badge.

She ends up deeper inside the palace, and stumbles across the royal family in the midst of a heated argument in a private study. Lex has finally arrived, unconcerned by the missed press conference, and Lena is taking him to task for it. Lillian chides her, urges Lena to be more understanding. Lena reminds them all that while Lex has been gallivanting around the globe, she has been the one to keep the monarchy alive. The Parliament wants to do away with the monarchy altogether, and Lex is just giving them more and more reason to move towards a vote.

Lillian doesn’t care, is only pleased that her precious Lex is back home again, and Lena furiously storms out of the room.

...and runs smack into Kara. Kara stumbles back into a suit of armor, briefly recovers, and stares at the furious Princess Lena and awkwardly tries to bow, going all out with a hand flourish to boot. Mid-bow, Lena catches her waving hand in the air (where it is inches away from knocking over a priceless vase).

“Stop. Moving.”

Kara freezes, and the chaos subsides as Lex and Lillian come out to investigate. Kara assures them that she’s not eavesdropping, she just got turned around because she was helping some delivery people, and then there was art and--

“Nothing you just heard is to be printed.” Lena grinds out, cheeks flushed with irritation.

“Oh, no, of course not,” Kara agrees whole-heartedly. “I’m off the clock. Just a tourist, really.”

“A trespassing tourist,” Lena corrects, only for Lex sling an arm around her shoulders.

“Oh, loosen up, Lena,” he urges. “Miss Danvers here didn’t mean any harm. We can all see she’s not the most stealthy of spies, so what is there to worry about?”

Kara can practically hear Lena’s teeth grinding.

“You know what? Maybe Miss Danvers can help us,” Lex suggests. His idea is that Kara will get the exclusive of the century by following Lex through his daily life for a week as he gets up to speed with meetings and events and such leading up to the coronation. She’ll get to ask any questions she wants, and she can stay in the palace, the works.

Lillian thinks it’s a great idea, and Kara agrees, so it doesn’t really matter that Lena rolls her eyes and is basically like, “whatever.”

((more under the cut))

And so it goes. Kara gets embedded in court life. Lex is as good as his word. Kara shadows him in all his meetings, but it actually has the opposite effect of what he intends. Instead of demonstrating that he is able to assume the responsibilities expected of the king, all Kara sees is that Lena is performing all of those responsibilities already. She sees that Lex muddles through in a world of intense politics that Lena is already proficient in. Where Lex has to re-introduce himself to his people, Lena is already a beloved figure.

Two days into her assignment, Kara stumbles across Lena in a rare quiet moment one evening, in a small study lined with bookshelves. Lena invites Kara to join her, and even apologizes for her temper the day they met. The Lena Kara knows so far is sharp and shrewd and stiff and cold, but this is an entirely different Lena. This Lena is the soft, gentle, warm Lena that Kara glimpsed the other day at the orphan’s charity gala, where the princess spent most of the evening in the company of children. This is the real Lena.

And as they talk, Kara asks why Lex is only now getting started with his responsibilities. Lena reveals that Lex always saw leadership as a burden. He saw it as his lost freedom, of having to answer to others. Whereas Lena... it’s always been more than that, for her. For her, it was a gift. When the royal family adopted her, she was gifted with not only a family, but with an entire new country to call home. To her it was a blessing, and she has only ever wanted to give back as much as she was given.

Off the record, Lena confesses she fears that Lex has been away too much to recognize the political shifts within the Parliament. Not only the fact that some view the monarchy as unnecessary, but the way isolationists seek to exclude people in need from their borders, the way nationalists desire to strike out against some of their neighboring countries in pursuit of additional resources. So far, Lionel’s regency has been the driving force keeping the most extreme calls to action at bay, and maintaining Aldovia’s progressive reputation. Without his influence, she’s afraid Lex will succumb to external pressures and lead their country to war or worse.

Additional moments pop up throughout the week, and Lena starts smiling at Kara more, and Kara starts asking her more questions than she does Lex. Lex doesn’t really mind. The night of the coronation, we get our ballroom full of pretty gowns and uniforms. Lena stands in the receiving line with her mother and brother, wearing a silver gown-- and almost goes weak at the knees when she sees Kara approaching in a gown of gold. When their eyes meet, sparks fly, and Lena abandons the receiving line in favor of walking with Kara.

(When Lex protests being left to face the sharks by himself, Lena reminds him that he’s king now, so ‘get used to it, buddy’, and goes on her way with a smirk.)

Lena and Kara dance, and sip punch, and they talk. Kara asks what Lena plans to do, once Lex has assumed the throne. Lena just kind of shrugs. She’ll keep doing what she’s doing. Lex will need her help.

“But is that what you want to do?”

They’re interrupted by the start of the coronation ceremony before Lena can answer. Lena joins her family on stage, and Kara hangs back with the other reporters. Halfway through the ceremony, they are interrupted by Morgan Edge-- a pro-isolation politician heavily favored to replace the current PM in the next election. He reveals he has confirmed evidence that prove that Lex is the illegitimate son of Lillian Luthor, and has no right to the throne.

In the scandal that follows, it’s proven true. Lillian confirms it to Lex and Lena before the public learns the truth. Because he is no blood relation to King Lionel, the throne will pass to the next male cousin per Aldovian law-- a weak-willed man already in the pocket of several pro-isolationist/anti-monarchy lobby groups. With him in power, no one expects the monarchy will survive the next PM’s first elected term.

In the quick lead-up to the cousin’s coronation, Kara digs. She digs and digs and digs, poring through every book of the royal library trying to find some loophole to keep Lex in power. She finds none. But she does stumble upon King Lionel’s private study, hidden behind a bookshelf. Inside she finds Lena, looking defeated and forlorn as she and her family stands to lose everything her father ever worked for.

She thanks Kara for her help, but it’s no use. They lost. Lex’s insistence on taking the year-between-kings to go enjoy himself, to be selfish, gave Edge the time to find the information and build an iron-clad case. The monarchy is done. Lena gives Kara a sad smile, eyes too-bright.

“Look on the bright side,” Lena says. “Now I’ll have plenty of time to visit National City after all.”

She leaves then to go prepare for the coronation, leaving Kara alone in the king’s study. In a fit of frustration, Kara kicks the heavy heirloom desk-- causing a hidden compartment to pop open. Inside, she finds the answer she needs.

Kara barges in on the coronation and interrupts it much like Edge did. In her hand she waves the proof that the cousin is NOT the next in line for the throne.

“Miss Danvers,” the prime minister says, “it has already been proven that Prince Lex is illegitimate and cannot take the throne.”

Kara looks him dead in the eye. “I’m not referring to Prince Lex. I’m referring to Princess Lena.”

And then she explains that she found these papers in King Lionel’s personal desk, bearing his royal seal. The papers claim that Lena is his biological daughter (with the DNA tests to prove it), legitimizing her as his heir and simultaneously amending the law that requires a male heir to assume the throne. With the amended law, and Lionel’s blood in her veins, Lena is rightful heir to the throne.

Despite Edge’s consequent rage, the rest of Parliament is thrilled. They’ve worked with her for years and know that she has the support of the people. Lena is crowned on the spot and Kara runs the story that breaks the news to the rest of the world. Lena becomes Queen of Aldovia, and Kara becomes a journalistic superstar overnight. She returns to National City a hero, but... her friends notice she’s not as happy as she should be. Nobody can figure out why, until...

On New Year’s Eve a mysterious cup of coffee is delivered to Kara’s desk by Eve Tessmacher. On it is a neon yellow sticky note, with a note scribbled on it in elegant, flowing script:

Your boss has a lovely balcony. Mine’s better.

Kara rushes to Cat’s office and finds Lena standing there with her own cup of coffee in hand. Kara freezes at the sight of her, and struggles to curtsy without tipping over as her heart pounds and her knees wobble. “Y-your Majesty--”

“Shh,” Lena teases, smile glinting in the low light of evening. “I’m incognito.”

“Lena what are you--”

“I missed you,” Lena confesses in nervous whoosh of air. “You left so suddenly, and I should have you thrown in the dungeon for that note you left saying goodbye instead of doing it in person.”

Kara blinks. “You don’t have a dungeon,” she scoffs. Then she pauses. “Do you?”

“No. We have regular jail for that now.” Lena’s smile dims. “I can’t thank you enough, Kara. You kept looking, when I had given up. I owe you everything--”

Kara shakes her head. “No, you don’t owe me anything. You’re the one who taught me the meaning of perseverance. Of kindness, and compassion. Aldovia deserves to have someone like you as their queen. I just got lucky being the one to find those papers. Everything else you did yourself.”

Lena blushes, and turns to lean on the stone balustrade. Kara hesitantly comes to stand next to her, and together they spend a long, quiet moment looking out over the city.

“It’s as beautiful as you promised,” Lena tells her.

Kara stares at her. “Why are you here?”

“I missed you,” Lena repeats. Then she sighs. “I miss you so much I can’t stop thinking about you. I have everything I ever hoped for, everything I could have asked for as a girl, and yet... I’m sad. And I think it’s because you left before I could tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

Lena bites her lower lip, suddenly nervous. “That I care for you. More than-- more than I’ve cared for anyone.”

“Lena...”

“I’m sorry, it’s selfish of me to just dump something like that on you without discussing it or having a plan for anything beyond just telling you. That’s not fair to you--”

“Would you like to come to dinner?”

Lena blinks. “Ex-excuse me?”

“Dinner? It’s when two people share a meal and--”

“I would love dinner. With you. I would love to have dinner with you.”

Kara’s stomach flutters. She smiles. “Has the Queen of Aldovia ever had a potsticker?”

Lena rolls her eyes, and her smile is just as beautiful as Kara remembers. “We’re royalty, not hermits, Kara.”

“So, the answer is...”

“No, I haven’t.”

Kara laughs, linking her arm through Lena’s and leading them towards Cat’s private elevator. She figures Cat won’t mind, just this once. “Good, because this place is going to ruin all other potstickers for you. They’re amazing! And they have this housemade sauce that is to die for...”

#gimme a gay christmas princess movie #lena luthor #kara danvers #supercorp au #modern royalty #queen lena #they eventually kiss #kara pursues her career and winters in aldovia #lena rules her country and thye have nightly skype calls #eventually they get married #aldovia loves kara #i've spent two hours typing this and i hate myself #yall better appreciate it #because now I don't want to watch another christmas princess movie until this is its plot #gimme more gay princesses!

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wasabi-duck · 6 years

Text

romeo - namjoon

idk how to label this because romeo and juliet is obviously Straight so like im just calling it romeo namjoon so i hope you enjoy!! again, it’s gender neutral so!!

hey people i submitted all my college apps so i think i can maybe try harder with this blog

okay so for this au!! you and namjoon are fated to be together

the kim family is really really prominent in society today

not so much political or social, but economically-speaking they’re one of the top players across the board

his family controls the shipping market, whether it be post, or air, or sea

they control it all

almost everything goes through the kim family shipping industry if it isn’t public post

and that’s just the domestic market, they also do a whole ton of international business too, and have a presence all across the globe- from china, to the usa, to germany

growing up, namjoon knew that he was going to inherit the business

his entire life his family prepped him for the business, whether it be training in how to be polite and diplomatic, to going to the most prestigious schools in the country to make sure that he was over and beyond when it came to areas like economics and maths

namjoon’s entire existence revolved around being the heir for the powerful kim business, and it was almost like he wasn’t allowed to exist

he was there for the money, the power, the glory

never for himself

he always lived in the shadow of his parents, or the business

as he got older, things got worse

because more expectations were pushed on him, and suddenly the 97 in differential equations wasn’t good enough, he needed 100

and days where he used to sit in his room, messing around with a music program on his computer… he now needs to force himself to meet anyone and everyone who might have some relation to his future in the business world, half of them who are over the age of like… seventy-two

and as he got older, things also got worse because of well…

you

well, not exactly you, but your family

your family runs the most well-known media outlet in the country

and that’s just a nice way to put it

you guys are basically the paparazzi, and although there are other, smaller groups around, none of them compare to your family

seeing as how the kims are the most influential people in the shipping business, and some of the most powerful people in the business playing field, so your basically always trailing them wherever they go

it’s never a role that you wanted to be a part of

you always wanted to be a normal kid, with a normal life

but you remember one of your first gifts being a camera, and not like a cute lil baby camera, but a nice, expensive one

and you were like anyway i was like five but…

so your entire life you’ve been told that the most important goal is to find the truth, no matter what the cost

but your family definitely stretched that a bit, and you can’t help but think they invade to many private lives just to get a story, just to find anything that will make the public go absolutely wild

because of this, you’ve run into namjoon more than a few times

never personally, and never to chit-chat, but simply because you were on the scene, your camera held in your shaking hands as you tried to snap pictures of him getting out of the airport

you kind of… think he’s cute…

but it’s not like you could ever approach him

you know his family hates your family’s guts…

and your family isn’t necessarily a fan of the kims either

your family just sticks with them for the money, there’s no idolization there, actually quite the opposite, they dislike the kims for their disillusion towards the general public

when you sit down and think about it, more of the stories your family has published have been scandalous

which you know is because the public likes that…

but also because your family wants to see them pay for their general disregard and mistreatment of the public

because the kims are notorious for having prices much too high for the average person to pay continually, and since they have a monopoly on the industry, there is no competition and no incentive to work better

and so to say that there’s some animosity between your families… would be right

but you’re drawn to namjoon

he seems different from his family

where they all appear stiff and cold, his smile could light up an entire room

you’ve never seen him speak rudely to any of the paparazzi, or the public

he handles himself so professionally, and when you have had the privilege to sit in on press conference or public business meetings… he always is polite and courteous, and always listens to what everyone else has to say

and you kinda have a lil crush on him

but you’re just the shy kid behind the camera…

so like, he’d never notice you anyway

but then…

an invitation to a party shows up on your doorstep one day

your crazy mother realizes that ah yes, a party for the most socially elite means that you can get so much dirt on people there, so she’s like haha… you gotta go

and you’re like can i not i would rather sit inside and marry leo off to selena because they are my otp,,,

and your mom is like anyway you better figure out what you’re wearing

you wanna know how the hell you got invited in the first place, but you guess because your family is socially prominent you were somehow invited too…

okay so party time

it’s at some nightclub??

your girl is underage as heck so idk what they’re about

anyway i imagine some great dance music would be playing, with the bass super boosted, like idk… everytime we touch by cascada

and the lights are all dark but they have strobe lights going i think that’s what they’re called at least

and it’s, like i said, super dark, so it’s not like you can see anyone, and you maybe forgot your camera

and like there are so many people!! no matter where you go, there are at least twenty people accidentally bumping into you and it’s all a little overwhelming, so you grab a drink (grape juice) and head over to the back corner of the club where it’s less noisy, and there are less people around to bother you,,,

finally, some peace and quiet…

you close your eyes and take a deep breath

your parents would flip if you came home early, and there’s no use being outside, alone, in the dark, when everything is closed…

so you stay put, instead rummaging around your bag to see if you can find your earbuds and phone so you can just chill by yourself

you grab onto what you assume is your earbuds, but before you can pull them out, someone bumps into you, with enough impact that you topple forward

the person, apparently startled just as much as you, loses their balances, and falls on the ground right beside you

you look up

and everything slows down

it’s the part of everytime we touch where she’s like your arms are my castle btw

you blink, your eyes unable to focus in the dim light, and when your vision finally clears, you recognize the person to be none other than kim namjoon…

you startle, quickly pulling away from him, your face red in embarrassment

namjoon frowns, clearly confused, but then a look of recognition spreads across his face and he smiles a little shyly

“i think i know you.”

you nod slowly, not taking your gaze off of him

“i think i know you too…”

he stands up, then offers you a hand, which you take gratefully

he coughs awkwardly and you put your hand on the back of your neck

“um… i’m namjoon.”

and you introduce yourself too, and you almost feel the need to apologize because you’re sure that you and your family have caused him so much trouble

but you don’t know what to say, but you stay silent, unsure of what you should do next

namjoon doesn’t say anything at first, but then he sees something on the floor, and bends over to pick it up

it’s your earbuds

he hands them over with a small smile “i had the same idea.”

“parties aren’t really my thing…” you laugh softly

“mine either.” he pauses, shoving his hands in his pockets before adding, “so if you want to… maybe head outside?”

your brows furrow

“god that probably sounded creepy, i meant, like get out of here, i know a cool little diner that’s open twenty-four hours, the coffee sucks, but the dessert is pretty great.”

you laugh and nod sheepishly “yah, that sounds nice.”

so you and namjoon dip out of the party, and head down to the cafe where you talk the entire night away

you exchange numbers too hehe

anyway, as the weeks progress, you two talk more and more, and things get a little flirtier and flirtier

and you’ve become glued to your phone, and your cousin, yoongi, is like, “anyway who’s the hot babe and do they have a brother”

and youre like “yoongi,,, plz,,, it is not like that, namjoon is just a- ooPS”

cause you had namjoon under a code name like “B)” or something awful like that and you thought that you had this all under wraps but now you just basically admitted everything to yoongi isn’t that just the greatest

“kim namjoon? like the guy our family is so intent on stalking and tarnishing his name and everything? the kim namjoon who wears beanie when it is obviously bucket hat season?? that kim namjoon?”

“um…”

“he totally has a hot cousin.”

you blink “so wait, you’re not… telling on me?”

yoongi shrugs “i don’t see why i should.”

and you smile and hug him and yoongi just laughs and ruffles your hair

yoongi is the one who covers for you when you sneak out to see namjoon

and boy howdy do you see namjoon a lot

like yoongi always drives you to meet up with him, whether it be the diner, or the park, or the city!!

and he always makes awful excuses when your family asks where you are

and namjoon’s cousin, jungkook, does the same thing for him, and the two of them often meet up and laugh about it over bitter coffee

you and namjoon are so in love though, and it’s a passionate affair, not for the cheating aspect, god no, but because everything must be done in secret

every time you press your lips to his, you’re afraid that suddenly your mother will walk around the corner and rip you away from his arms

and when you two are out and about, walking down the streets, your hold his hand so tightly, so fearful that you could be torn away from him at any second

every time you call him it’s late at night, because you’re scared that your father might accidentally stop and listen in when you’re least expecting it, and your entire world will crumble to pieces

namjoon is the same way though, extra careful, extra cautious, and he always says it, says he hates how you two have to hide your relationship just because your guys’ parents hate each other

but it’s something he’s willing to hide if it means seeing you every day, being with you every day

except that you two aren’t as careful as you should hope to be, because one day you leave your phone unlocked and it just so happens that your mother was cleaning up your room a little bit, and she picked up the phone and read the messages and realized that these gentle “i love yous” were all sent to none other than kim namjoon

and she hurries down the steps, your phone in her hand, cursing and shouting and asking you what in the hell you’re thinking

and your eyes widen in horror as you realize your mistake and you rush over to try and grab the phone from her hands, but in a fit of rage, she throws the phone down and it’s probably an awful iphone or something so the entire thing shatters in a million pieces

this of course is your breaking point, and you start to sob, begging your mother to change her mind, trying to tell her that there’s nothing wrong about this, but she doesn’t listen, instead storms off to go talk to your father

you kneel down and hold the broken phone in your hands, continuing to cry harder

yoongi, startled by the commotion, comes racing in, and when he sees you, sees the scene, everything clicks

he holds you in his arms and promising things will be okay but you know they will not

after that, your parents ban you from leaving the house

you are confined to your room, and if you want to leave your room, you have to stay within the house, even being limited to indoors, as in, like can’t even see the garden

at first, namjoon thinks you’re ignoring him or something and his heart breaks because it’s not like you to ignore him, ever

but yoongi texts jungkook who tells namjoon the situation, and from that moment on, he is planning a way to get you back

one night, it’s been like a week since the incident, you are sitting on your bed, watching psych

when you hear a faint knock

you think it must be a squirrel or something like that outside?

so you ignore it

but the noise continues

so you head over to your window, and step out into the balcony, and standing there, with a large bag slung over his shoulders, is namjoon

he waves, and you cup your hands over your mouth

“are you coming?”

“like hell i’m gonna trust you to catch me!”

you laugh, and the tears have already started to prick the corners of your eyes

he smiles softly “i love you”

“I love you too namjoon…”

and im saying the balcony isn’t super high so you’re like fxxk it and you jump and he catches you and you’re both safe and sound

and when you are safely on your feet, you lean up and kiss him and he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you close

and it feels like you kiss him for an eternity, and you want to kiss him for an eternity, but he says there’s no time, and that you two need to hurry before someone realizes something is up

he says that his friend hoseok is offering up his place for you two to stay

and with that, you two vanish into the night

obviously both sets of parents find out, and it doesn’t take them long to realize where you two are hiding

but namjoon is like nah not coming home until you recognize our love,,,

and so both parents are like our children and their happiness are most important so they are willing to make amends

you and namjoon come back home but he was digging the cute apartment vibe so he asks if you two can move out together if he still decides to manage the business in the near future

and your parents are all !! about it at first but they agree because you two are most important

and you and namjoon are happily in love and you have a cute apartment where you two snuggle and kiss all the time mwah mwah

#namjoon scenarios #namjoon reaction #namjoon scenario #bts scenarios #bts fanfic #bts scenario #bts reactions #bangtan scenarios #bangtan reactions #bangtan writing #bangtan fluff #namjoon fluff #bts fluff

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sweatydazeface · 4 years

Link

“Dear profs X, Y, Z

I am one of your colleagues at the University of California, Berkeley. I have met you both personally but do not know you closely, and am contacting you anonymously, with apologies. I am worried that writing this email publicly might lead to me losing my job, and likely all future jobs in my field.

In your recent departmental emails you mentioned our pledge to diversity, but I am increasingly alarmed by the absence of diversity of opinion on the topic of the recent protests and our community response to them.

In the extended links and resources you provided, I could not find a single instance of substantial counter-argument or alternative narrative to explain the under-representation of black individuals in academia or their over-representation in the criminal justice system. The explanation provided in your documentation, to the near exclusion of all others, is univariate: the problems of the black community are caused by whites, or, when whites are not physically present, by the infiltration of white supremacy and white systemic racism into American brains, souls, and institutions.

Many cogent objections to this thesis have been raised by sober voices, including from within the black community itself, such as Thomas Sowell and Wilfred Reilly. These people are not racists or ‘Uncle Toms’. They are intelligent scholars who reject a narrative that strips black people of agency and systematically externalizes the problems of the black community onto outsiders. Their view is entirely absent from the departmental and UCB-wide communiques.

The claim that the difficulties that the black community faces are entirely causally explained by exogenous factors in the form of white systemic racism, white supremacy, and other forms of white discrimination remains a problematic hypothesis that should be vigorously challenged by historians. Instead, it is being treated as an axiomatic and actionable truth without serious consideration of its profound flaws, or its worrying implication of total black impotence. This hypothesis is transforming our institution and our culture, without any space for dissent outside of a tightly policed, narrow discourse.

A counternarrative exists. If you have time, please consider examining some of the documents I attach at the end of this email. Overwhelmingly, the reasoning provided by BLM and allies is either primarily anecdotal (as in the case with the bulk of Ta-Nehisi Coates’ undeniably moving article) or it is transparently motivated. As an example of the latter problem, consider the proportion of black incarcerated Americans. This proportion is often used to characterize the criminal justice system as anti-black. However, if we use the precise same methodology, we would have to conclude that the criminal justice system is even more anti-male than it is anti-black.

Would we characterize criminal justice as a systemically misandrist conspiracy against innocent American men? I hope you see that this type of reasoning is flawed, and requires a significant suspension of our rational faculties. Black people are not incarcerated at higher rates than their involvement in violent crime would predict. This fact has been demonstrated multiple times across multiple jurisdictions in multiple countries.

And yet, I see my department uncritically reproducing a narrative that diminishes black agency in favor of a white-centric explanation that appeals to the department’s apparent desire to shoulder the ‘white man’s burden’ and to promote a narrative of white guilt.

If we claim that the criminal justice system is white-supremacist, why is it that Asian Americans, Indian Americans, and Nigerian Americans are incarcerated at vastly lower rates than white Americans? This is a funny sort of white supremacy. Even Jewish Americans are incarcerated less than gentile whites. I think it’s fair to say that your average white supremacist disapproves of Jews. And yet, these alleged white supremacists incarcerate gentiles at vastly higher rates than Jews. None of this is addressed in your literature. None of this is explained, beyond hand-waving and ad hominems. “Those are racist dogwhistles”. “The model minority myth is white supremacist”. “Only fascists talk about black-on-black crime”, ad nauseam.

These types of statements do not amount to counterarguments: they are simply arbitrary offensive classifications, intended to silence and oppress discourse. Any serious historian will recognize these for the silencing orthodoxy tactics they are, common to suppressive regimes, doctrines, and religions throughout time and space. They are intended to crush real diversity and permanently exile the culture of robust criticism from our department.

Increasingly, we are being called upon to comply and subscribe to BLM’s problematic view of history, and the department is being presented as unified on the matter. In particular, ethnic minorities are being aggressively marshaled into a single position. Any apparent unity is surely a function of the fact that dissent could almost certainly lead to expulsion or cancellation for those of us in a precarious position, which is no small number.

I personally don’t dare speak out against the BLM narrative, and with this barrage of alleged unity being mass-produced by the administration, tenured professoriat, the UC administration, corporate America, and the media, the punishment for dissent is a clear danger at a time of widespread economic vulnerability. I am certain that if my name were attached to this email, I would lose my job and all future jobs, even though I believe in and can justify every word I type.

The vast majority of violence visited on the black community is committed by black people. There are virtually no marches for these invisible victims, no public silences, no heartfelt letters from the UC regents, deans, and departmental heads. The message is clear: Black lives only matter when whites take them. Black violence is expected and insoluble, while white violence requires explanation and demands solution. Please look into your hearts and see how monstrously bigoted this formulation truly is.

No discussion is permitted for nonblack victims of black violence, who proportionally outnumber black victims of nonblack violence. This is especially bitter in the Bay Area, where Asian victimization by black assailants has reached epidemic proportions, to the point that the SF police chief has advised Asians to stop hanging good-luck charms on their doors, as this attracts the attention of (overwhelmingly black) home invaders. Home invaders like George Floyd. For this actual, lived, physically experienced reality of violence in the USA, there are no marches, no tearful emails from departmental heads, no support from McDonald’s and Wal-Mart. For the History department, our silence is not a mere abrogation of our duty to shed light on the truth: it is a rejection of it.

The claim that black intraracial violence is the product of redlining, slavery, and other injustices is a largely historical claim. It is for historians, therefore, to explain why Japanese internment or the massacre of European Jewry hasn’t led to equivalent rates of dysfunction and low SES performance among Japanese and Jewish Americans respectively. Arab Americans have been viciously demonized since 9/11, as have Chinese Americans more recently. However, both groups outperform white Americans on nearly all SES indices – as do Nigerian Americans, who incidentally have black skin. It is for historians to point out and discuss these anomalies. However, no real discussion is possible in the current climate at our department. The explanation is provided to us, disagreement with it is racist, and the job of historians is to further explore additional ways in which the explanation is additionally correct. This is a mockery of the historical profession.

Most troublingly, our department appears to have been entirely captured by the interests of the Democratic National Convention, and the Democratic Party more broadly. To explain what I mean, consider what happens if you choose to donate to Black Lives Matter, an organization UCB History has explicitly promoted in its recent mailers. All donations to the official BLM website are immediately redirected to ActBlue Charities, an organization primarily concerned with bankrolling election campaigns for Democrat candidates. Donating to BLM today is to indirectly donate to Joe Biden’s 2020 campaign. This is grotesque given the fact that the American cities with the worst rates of black-on-black violence and police-on-black violence are overwhelmingly Democrat-run. Minneapolis itself has been entirely in the hands of Democrats for over five decades; the ‘systemic racism’ there was built by successive Democrat administrations.

The patronizing and condescending attitudes of Democrat leaders towards the black community, exemplified by nearly every Biden statement on the black race, all but guarantee a perpetual state of misery, resentment, poverty, and the attendant grievance politics which are simultaneously annihilating American political discourse and black lives. And yet, donating to BLM is bankrolling the election campaigns of men like Mayor Frey, who saw their cities devolve into violence. This is a grotesque capture of a good-faith movement for necessary police reform, and of our department, by a political party. Even worse, there are virtually no avenues for dissent in academic circles. I refuse to serve the Party, and so should you.

The total alliance of major corporations involved in human exploitation with BLM should be a warning flag to us, and yet this damning evidence goes unnoticed, purposefully ignored, or perversely celebrated. We are the useful idiots of the wealthiest classes, carrying water for Jeff Bezos and other actual, real, modern-day slavers. Starbucks, an organisation using literal black slaves in its coffee plantation suppliers, is in favor of BLM. Sony, an organisation using cobalt mined by yet more literal black slaves, many of whom are children, is in favor of BLM. And so, apparently, are we. The absence of counter-narrative enables this obscenity. Fiat lux, indeed.

There also exists a large constituency of what can only be called ‘race hustlers’: hucksters of all colors who benefit from stoking the fires of racial conflict to secure administrative jobs, charity management positions, academic jobs and advancement, or personal political entrepreneurship.

Given the direction our history department appears to be taking far from any commitment to truth, we can regard ourselves as a formative training institution for this brand of snake-oil salespeople. Their activities are corrosive, demolishing any hope at harmonious racial coexistence in our nation and colonizing our political and institutional life. Many of their voices are unironically segregationist.

MLK would likely be called an Uncle Tom if he spoke on our campus today. We are training leaders who intend, explicitly, to destroy one of the only truly successful ethnically diverse societies in modern history. As the PRC, an ethnonationalist and aggressively racially chauvinist national polity with null immigration and no concept of jus solis increasingly presents itself as the global political alternative to the US, I ask you: Is this wise? Are we really doing the right thing?

As a final point, our university and department has made multiple statements celebrating and eulogizing George Floyd. Floyd was a multiple felon who once held a pregnant black woman at gunpoint. He broke into her home with a gang of men and pointed a gun at her pregnant stomach. He terrorized the women in his community. He sired and abandoned multiple children, playing no part in their support or upbringing, failing one of the most basic tests of decency for a human being. He was a drug-addict and sometime drug-dealer, a swindler who preyed upon his honest and hard-working neighbors.

And yet, the regents of UC and the historians of the UCB History department are celebrating this violent criminal, elevating his name to virtual sainthood. A man who hurt women. A man who hurt black women. With the full collaboration of the UCB history department, corporate America, most mainstream media outlets, and some of the wealthiest and most privileged opinion-shaping elites of the USA, he has become a culture hero, buried in a golden casket, his (recognized) family showered with gifts and praise. Americans are being socially pressured into kneeling for this violent, abusive misogynist. A generation of black men are being coerced into identifying with George Floyd, the absolute worst specimen of our race and species.

I’m ashamed of my department. I would say that I’m ashamed of both of you, but perhaps you agree with me, and are simply afraid, as I am, of the backlash of speaking the truth. It’s hard to know what kneeling means, when you have to kneel to keep your job.

It shouldn’t affect the strength of my argument above, but for the record, I write as a person of color. My family have been personally victimized by men like Floyd. We are aware of the condescending depredations of the Democrat party against our race. The humiliating assumption that we are too stupid to do STEM, that we need special help and lower requirements to get ahead in life, is richly familiar to us. I sometimes wonder if it wouldn’t be easier to deal with open fascists, who at least would be straightforward in calling me a subhuman, and who are unlikely to share my race.

The ever-present soft bigotry of low expectations and the permanent claim that the solutions to the plight of my people rest exclusively on the goodwill of whites rather than on our own hard work is psychologically devastating. No other group in America is systematically demoralized in this way by its alleged allies. A whole generation of black children are being taught that only by begging and weeping and screaming will they get handouts from guilt-ridden whites.

No message will more surely devastate their futures, especially if whites run out of guilt, or indeed if America runs out of whites. If this had been done to Japanese Americans, or Jewish Americans, or Chinese Americans, then Chinatown and Japantown would surely be no different to the roughest parts of Baltimore and East St. Louis today. The History department of UCB is now an integral institutional promulgator of a destructive and denigrating fallacy about the black race.

I hope you appreciate the frustration behind this message. I do not support BLM. I do not support the Democrat grievance agenda and the Party’s uncontested capture of our department. I do not support the Party co-opting my race, as Biden recently did in his disturbing interview, claiming that voting Democrat and being black are isomorphic. I condemn the manner of George Floyd’s death and join you in calling for greater police accountability and police reform. However, I will not pretend that George Floyd was anything other than a violent misogynist, a brutal man who met a predictably brutal end.

I also want to protect the practice of history. Cleo is no grovelling handmaiden to politicians and corporations. Like us, she is free.”

#uc berkeley history #open letter #blm open letter #blm #berkeley open letter #black lives matter #history

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secretagentspydetectiveninja · 7 years

Text

The Misadventures of Prince Kim - chapter 4

(aka the royalty AU story)

[1, 2, 3] [AO3]

Imperial Prince Adrien, heir apparent to the Agreste Empire, finally arrived at the school early the next morning. He was quickly greeted rather enthusiastically by Chloé who ran over to hug him, accidentally buffeting him aside by the sturdy hoops holding out her skirt.

“Oh Adri-Chou, where were you? I was so worried!”

“Hi, Chloé,” he said shyly, gently pushing her off him. “Sorry I couldn’t get here sooner, my father didn’t want me to attend a public school because of the presence of nobles from other countries, so he tried to cancel the train. But then my governess persuaded him to let me come here after all. As long as my personal bodyguard is on the premises.”

A large, beefy man – the bodyguard in question – walked into view behind Adrien, carrying his luggage easily on his broad shoulders.

“I’m so happy you made it,” Chloé gushed, linking her arm up with Adrien’s. “Class will start in a few minutes so if you’re not too tired I’ll take you directly there and we can set up your dorm room later. I’ll show you around the school too, my father spent a lot of money sprucing it up recently and the royal quarters look absolutely stunning, you’ll see. Oh, this is going to be so exciting!”

Without waiting for a reply, she led him away towards the classroom. All the nobles along the way stopped to stare. Imperial Prince Adrien was probably one of the most famous figures of royalty in the world, or perhaps one of the most infamous. His empire was well-known for their past military endeavours, including ruthlessly colonizing lands from all parts of the globe, leading to Agreste being one of the most widespread nations in history whose influence reached almost everywhere. Everyone was waiting for Adrien to grow up to see what kind of leader he would be – would he continue what his empire had started, and keep pushing on to conquer more land? Opinions either way were controversial. In any case it was common knowledge that his mother, previously the imperial queen-consort due to an arranged marriage, had strongly disapproved of the empire’s violent ways to the point where she filed for a divorce and disappeared, never being heard of again. No one really knew what Adrien himself thought of that, since the imperial family were always rather private people when it came to personal life. It was almost no wonder Emperor Gabriel had not wanted his son to come to a foreign school.

Adrien had been very much looking forward to finally starting school and meeting new people. His life had always been restricted enough that the only person his age he knew was Chloé. It was about time he got to see what other royal children were like. However, when introducing himself to the class at the start of the first lesson, he noticed that the looks most people were giving him were not exactly friendly. Why was that? He guessed it was probably because of his empire’s awkward reputation. Well, at least that made sense. He would just have to work hard to show everyone that he wasn’t like that, he wasn’t itching to suddenly take over anyone’s land without asking, he wasn’t some cruel totalitarian dictator. He wasn’t even emperor yet!

During a break later on in the day, the only person who stuck around to talk to him was Chloé, telling him all about the things he had missed yesterday.

“… and then I laughed and walked off. Isn’t that funny, Adri-Chou? How pathetic of him!”

“I don’t know, Chloé,” Adrien said. “I mean, I’ve never met this Prince Kim you speak of, but don’t you think that was a little harsh? To laugh at him like that? And surely a difference in rank is an old-fashioned reason to reject someone? I do understand if you wanted to turn him down, it’s your personal choice and that’s understandable, but calling him a peasant and mocking him for his lower status seems unnecessary…”

“Oh Adrien,” Chloé sighed, “you are so sheltered, like a sweet little kitten. This is just the way things work here in the real world.”

“I still don’t think it’s right.” He extricated himself from Chloé’s grip and walked away, not wanting to hear any more. Everything she’d had to say to him so far sounded like she was using her high rank to get away with being rude to the other students, and he just wasn’t in the mood for more of that. He got enough of that sort of thing at home.

Lost in his thoughts, he almost walked straight into someone. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Your Royal Highness,” he said quickly, stepping back and taking a look at the person in front of him. It was a boy he recognized from his class – he wouldn’t forget that vivid blue clothing anywhere.

“Hey, it’s no problem, Your Imperial Highness,” the boy said. “And by the way, you can just call me Nino, I’m cool with that. Can I just call you Adrien?”

“Yes.”

“Nice, that’s easier. Anyway I just heard you talking to Chloé and uh… do you really not know anyone else here?”

“No, just her.”

Nino gave him a pitying expression. “Dude, you seriously need new friends.”

“I want to make new friends, but I don’t think anyone here likes me.”

“Well I like you, for the record. I thought at first I wouldn’t, since you’re from Agreste, and you’re friends with Chloé and all that, but I guess that teaches me not to judge a book by its cover, right? I overheard what you said to Chloé just now and you actually sound really nice. Wanna be friends?”

He held out a closed fist. What was Adrien supposed to do with that? Was it a kind of greeting from another country that he didn’t know about? His father had made sure to teach him etiquette from many different kingdoms, but he had never come across this before.

“It’s a fist bump,” Nino said, noticing Adrien’s confusion. “You just bump your fist on mine. All the commoners are doing it these days. It’s a symbol of friendship.”

If it was a commoner thing then, well, Adrien knew he shouldn’t do it. But how else was he supposed to make new friends here? Hoping his father wouldn’t find out, he closed his fist and gently tapped it against Nino’s. “Thank you Nino, I would love to be friends.”

“Alright!” Nino laughed and gave him a friendly pat on the arm. “I’m from the Lahiffe Kingdom, by the way, in case you were wondering.”

“I wish I could visit someday. I’ve only ever been to Agreste and Bourgeois.”

“You’re always free to visit in the holidays if you want, man. And if you want to travel more I’ll try and help you make more friends, okay? We’ll prove to everyone what a nice guy you are.”

“Thank you so much Nino,” Adrien said. He felt much better now that there was someone other than Chloé for him to talk to. He still cared about her, of course, but what could he do if he didn’t agree with her behaviour? At least now there was Nino too. Nino seemed to be the kind of prince that his father would highly disapprove of – using commoner slang and mannerisms, from a diplomatic and peaceful country, seemingly very forward and overly familiar... Befriending him was almost like some small form of rebellion, in a way. Adrien realized that rather than feeling worried about it, he felt good. It felt freeing. And the best part was, it was exactly the kind of thing his mother would have wanted. Being friends with someone like Nino would honour her memory. Maybe it would even be like having a brother. The thought warmed his heart.

Kim had very much been looking forward to the first sports lesson of the year, and it had now arrived. Since Lê Chiến was famed for the sheer spirit of its athletes, Kim couldn’t wait to prove himself to all his new classmates. He would be the best and he knew it.

The first sports session was tennis since it was one of the few sports that was played in the kingdoms of every student in attendance. Making his way over to the grassy tennis courts in a far corner of the school grounds, Kim noticed that he seemed to be one of the only ones actually wearing sensible sports clothes. How was Rose supposed to run around in such a long dress like that? Did Chloé really think high heels were practical for sports? Why had Juleka not pinned her long fringe away from her face so that she could actually see? Or Nathaniel, for that matter? And why on earth was Ivan wearing so many layers? He would boil! At least Kim himself was dressed in standard sport clothing and he had made sure that Max was too – though obviously Max had been sensible enough to figure that out for himself.

“What’s your tennis racket made of?” Kim asked, since Max’s racket seemed to be far shinier than his. It certainly wasn’t wooden like all the others, but it wasn’t metal either, was it? He just couldn’t figure it out.

“It’s plastic,” Max replied.

“Oh, that stuff your glasses are made of?”

“Yes.”

“But I still don’t get it, what exactly is plastic? How do you make it?”

“Synthetic material of organic polymers which can be moulded and easily manufactured–”

“Never mind, I shouldn’t have asked,” Kim chuckled. Of course Max would give a ridiculously long-winded, nerdy answer, and now was not the time for that. Now was the time for sports!

Since their sports instructor hadn’t yet arrived, Kim decided this was a good moment to let everyone know what was happening this weekend. “Listen up everyone!” he said, waving his racket in the air to get their attention. “This Saturday afternoon you are all invited to the courtyard to watch a race between me, who will be running, and Pharaoh Alix, who will be on her skates. And I am definitely going to win, so make sure you’re cheering for me!”

“I knew it was only a matter of time before you challenged someone to a race!” Marinette said, beaming and holding a hand over her eyes to keep the strong sunlight out. “I know you too well! Anyway that sounds like a lot of fun and I’ll definitely be there. In fact, why don’t I make a banner for the challenge? I love textiles and all the facilities here at this school are so cool, I really want to try them out!”

“Go for it, as long as the banner shows me being the winner!”

From somewhere behind him he heard a voice saying, “Don’t count on that, ‘cause I’m gonna be the one who wins!” Turning around he saw Alix walking up to the group, swinging her shiny plastic tennis racket in her hand. Other than her headdress she seemed to be wearing sensible sporty clothes too, so evidently she wasn’t as new to athletics as many of the other classmates seemed to be. Kim couldn’t help but reluctantly feel that it suited her – but hastily reminded himself that anyone would look good in a tank top and shorts, and it wasn’t like she was inherently cute or anything. It was just the clothes that were cute. Not her.

“You can be my tennis opponent for today,” he said quickly, pointing his racket at her. “And I’m gonna win this match too.”

“Kim, you’re not that great at tennis, your speciality is running,” Max said, prodding him in the arm with his racket.

“Good, we’ll be evenly matched then,” said Alix. “My speciality is anything with wheels – rollerskates, skateboards, those new Heelys they’ve been making, even a freaking car, you name it.”

A car? A car?

“This time you’ve got to be lying!” Kim said. “You surely can’t already drive a car, that’s just unfair! My kingdom doesn’t even have cars!”

“What, really? Next you’ll be telling me you don’t have helicopters either…”

“What the heck is a helicopter?”

Max stepped between them, sensing an argument. “I should just ban you two from talking to each other. Anyway it looks like that’s our teacher over there so just please be quiet and behave yourselves…”

Sure enough, the teacher had arrived. After a group warm up the class were put into teams and had various doubles matches. Kim found himself partnered up with Adrien, who actually turned out to be a surprisingly good tennis player.

“My father has always made me practise sports activities,” Adrien said when Kim asked him about it between matches. He sounded somewhat unhappy about it.

“Did you not want to, then?”

“It’s not that, it’s just…” Adrien sighed and looked at the ground. “I wish I could have chosen the sports that I wanted to do, rather than just what he signed me up for.”

Kim was taken aback. He had expected that Adrien would be just as haughty and self-absorbed as Chloé. But instead he seemed… humble? “It’s okay, you can always just sign up for new sports stuff here,” Kim assured him. “What kind of stuff do you like doing?”

“I don’t even know, there are so many things I would love to try out. Though I suppose I do rather like fencing.”

“I think there’s a duelling club you could join. All you have to do is go to the sports office and put your name on the list. I already signed up for football.”

“Oh really? Thank you Kim, I’ll definitely do that!” He smiled rather sweetly and it didn’t seem fake at all. Huh, he really was nothing like Chloé, despite being from a place like Agreste.

“And you’re my friend now,” Kim said suddenly, surprising himself.

“Really?” Adrien seemed equally surprised. “Thanks!”

“No problem. You’re a good teammate. Now let’s go win some more matches!” He held his hand up, expecting a high five, but Adrien just looked at him blankly. “You’re meant to hit my hand with your hand. It’s called a high five.”

“Ah yes, sorry, I’m not good with commoner customs…” Adrien timidly tapped his hand against Kim’s. “High five. I’ll remember that one.”

The two of them proceeded to win almost every match that lesson – the only one they lost was against Marinette and Alix, who both seemed to be annoyingly good at tennis. Kim fully expected Alix to start gloating about her win and was already preparing to use the sun going in his eyes as an excuse for losing, but she didn’t say a word about it. All she did was say, “Good game,” and hold her hand out for a handshake, which Kim begrudgingly accepted. He let go rather quickly when he noticed his heartrate suddenly picking up – which he blamed entirely on that tank top, of course.

Later that day, he was busy chatting with Max when he felt someone tugging on his arm. Turning around he saw Adrien looking up at him with the most heartwarming puppy-dog eyes he had ever seen.

“Kim, I need your help,” he said quietly. “I’d ask Nino but I don’t know where he is right now and you said you’re my friend too so…”

How was it possible for someone to be so adorable? Kim was sure that if Adrien was a little kitten, he would have adopted him immediately. “Yeah sure, what’s up?”

“I want to sign up for duelling club like you suggested but uh… it’s a bit weird, but… Marinette’s there. She’s standing right in front of the office talking to Alya and um… I just get the feeling she really doesn’t like me at all. It’s not that I’m afraid to go near her, but what if she says something to me and… well that’s not why we lost the tennis against her earlier either, but…”

Adrien was afraid of Marinette? That was so stupid it was just asking to be mocked. And yet… how could Kim mock someone so clearly in need of his help? Adrien was so sweet, Kim knew he would never be able to live with himself if he messed it up now. “You want me to go with you?” he asked. “Sure, I’ll do it. Marinette’s my friend, if she says anything I’ll talk to her, okay?”

“Thank you so much!”

Leaving Max watching with an amused grin on his face, Kim walked Adrien over to the office. Marinette did throw a rather withering glance in Adrien’s direction, but continued her conversation with Alya without engaging them further.

“You know what, I think I’ll sign up for duelling club too,” Kim said. “It’ll be fun. I’ve always wanted to be able to challenge people to sword duels, how cool would that be?” Once Adrien had signed his name on the sign-up sheet Kim did so too, then walked Adrien back out until Marinette was out of view.

“Thanks Kim, that means a lot,” said Adrien. “Now I’ll know someone there.”

“Yeah, no problem. And listen, I’m sure Marinette will figure out soon enough that you’re cool. I’m guessing she doesn’t like you because you’re from Agreste and you’re friends with Chloé, who I’m pretty sure she hates, but I bet if you just talk to her she’ll realize you’re a good guy.”

“You’re right, I should try,” Adrien said, nodding. “I want to be her friend. But… maybe I’ll do it another day. I’ve never usually been around so many people before. It’s a little overwhelming.”

“You’d better go chill out then.”

“Yes… see you later Kim! And thank you once again!”

He waved and walked off towards his dorm room. Kim smiled to himself – making friends with Adrien had been a good idea. That boy was just such a nice person. It was a good thing an empire like Agreste was going to a guy like him, hopefully he’d manage to get it back on track. Though Kim did not know nearly as much about foreign affairs as he should, even he knew about the Agreste conquests and invasions, things that everyone disapproved of. Hopefully Adrien would be able to put a stop to all that once he was on the throne. He just seemed to be that sort of person.

#a wild cat son appeared! (i love him so much)#royalty au #miraculous ladybug #ml fanfic #le chien kim #max kante #ADRIEN AGRESTE #(i just so wanted to put him in it lots... he is so adorable)#random stuff #the misadventures of prince kim #frick's sake kim have a snickers son...#aish writes

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pocketseizure · 7 years

Text

The Marriage of Lanayru, Chapter Eight

Time Scatters Like Sand

Ganondorf broods in the library of Hyrule Castle until he is interrupted by Zelda, who offers a surprising invitation.

2,200 words ☆ (Also on AO3) (Story Tag on Tumblr)

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Ganondorf sat back in his chair and stared at the soft flame of the lantern he'd lit shortly after sundown. It was dangerous to bring fire into a library, but there seemed to be no other means of illuminating the room. There were gaslights in a few of the castle's larger halls, but electrical technology had apparently been lost, and there were no glowstone lamps to be found. He was here to ascertain how far into the future he had come, but it felt as if he had traveled backwards through time.

After an entire day of research, he had gotten no closer to figuring out how many years had passed since he had been banished to the Twilight Realm. At some point the standard dating system had apparently fallen out of fashion, and spans of time were now measured by the reigns of various monarchs. These kings replaced each other with disturbing frequency, and Ganondorf was not certain that there were no periods during which the throne had been empty. As far as he could tell, there were no women whose rule had been recorded, and he found no mention of a Zelda in this era or any other.

If there had been almanacs or star charts, he would have been able to do the calculations himself, but he had been unable to locate anything of that nature. How could a country be run with no knowledge of the seasons? Were the farmers – and the merchants dependent on their labor – simply left to their own devices? How was taxation managed? Each of Ganondorf's questions gave rise to numerous others, but there was no discernible system of organization or cataloging in the library, and his search for answers yielded no satisfying results. Even more troubling were the gaps in the collection. There were biographies, certainly, and multiple bound reports and collections of letters, but there were few actual histories, and those he found seemed to have been written for the edification of children. No one other than himself had entered the room during the day, and dust lay thickly on the shelves. It was as if the library existed only as a display of wealth, with any actual knowledge carefully culled. He wouldn't put it past the Hylians to have burned books they found unpleasant.

Ganondorf exhaled as he stretched. His back was sore, and the wound on his chest ached. His eyes had begun to hurt hours ago. Whatever benefits the Triforce of Power may have conferred on him, he wasn't getting any younger, and he worried that he might need glasses before too long. The Gerudo were known for their clear vision, but he had never been like the women of his tribe.

He closed his eyes and cast his mind back to the exhausting training required of all young Gerudo. How he envied the stamina and flexibility of the girls who surrounded him. Because he was a prince, no one quite knew how to deal with him, and as he grew older his teachers began to express greater tolerance regarding his absences from the evening exercises, perhaps thinking that he lacked the feminine strength necessary to become a warrior. He found this assumption infuriating, knowing in his heart that he would not remain a weak boy forever.

In the meantime he would retreat into one of the many libraries of the palace to practice magic without interference and read of the exotic foreign lands that lay beyond the sea of sand stretching out from the walls of his city. He was especially fascinated by Hyrule, where gods walked the earth in the form of heroes and demons. Even though his kingdom shared a border with Hyrule, it seemed like something from a fantasy. It was a land of prosperity and wonder, and none of the princes or princesses in the books he read had to deal with tariff percentages or property disputes or irrigation rights or any of the other asinine details of the business discussed in the council meetings he was obligated to attend.

It seemed that every eight hundred years or so Hyrule would be visited by a great calamity, which had come to be known as "Ganon." His own name, Ganondorf, simply meant "boar son" in an archaic variant of the Gerudo language, but he still liked to imagine that there was some connection between himself and the old Hylian legends. In these quiet moments, free from the incessant chatter of his cousins and the petty debates of his elders, Ganondorf would picture himself as a great warrior who used his swords and magic to battle an unimaginably terrible enemy.

As the years passed he understood how foolish it had been for him to think of Hyrule as nothing more than an innocent fantasy; the kingdom was a dark place where the blessing of water was wasted on the blood-drenched soil. On the other side of the desert the races mixed freely, but in Hyrule they had learned to keep to themselves in their own isolated territories. His people, although closer to the Hylians than others, were treated no differently and shunned in the towns and cities across the border. Regardless, Ganondorf could feel Hyrule calling to him, and when he was finally allowed to travel there to present himself to the king he fell in love with the green fields and gentle winds of a land where the seasons turned in an endless cycle.

Hyrule did not love him in return. Unskilled in politics as he was as a young man, he still understood that the Hylian king intended to create a suzerainty in the desert, apparently misunderstanding the peace maintained by the Gerudo as a weakness. These tensions were exacerbated by his coronation, and he witnessed the corruption of Hyrule’s royal family firsthand when he was apprehended for treason on a diplomatic visit and cast into the prison underneath the castle, a hellish dungeon where not even the dead were allowed to rest. No stone walls could hold him, and he escaped without difficulty, but it was then that he understood that it was the royal line itself that was "Ganon."

At least, that was his view of Hyrule before the war, and before he had been captured and flung into another world. What he learned as he wandered through the Twilight was that demons were real, mercilessly so. The desert was haunted by ghosts, but what he had seen in the wastes had not prepared him for the horrors that stalked the Twilight, which turned men into monsters.

Ganondorf rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms. How surprised he had been to find Zelda still in this castle, encased though it was in deep Twilight. Her body seemed so delicate, and yet she had been able to resist corruption. When he first saw her lying on a simple bed in the highest room of a lonely tower, as still and pale as a cut lily, he had assumed the Triforce of Wisdom was sustaining her. He quickly realized that she must have passed it to the imp queen to keep it from him, and that it was her own spirit that resisted the pull of the hateful miasma. He had long held a prejudice against the weakness of Hylians, but the strength of Zelda’s will moved him to compassion – and perhaps something more. He was not a man prone to rash decisions, but he knew that he could not bear to lose her. If she remained in this castle, a hero would surely come for her, but she was fading fast, and he saw no other way to keep her alive than by sustaining her with his own power.

"You really shouldn't have an open flame in a library, you know."

Startled, Ganondorf jerked his head up as Zelda's voice rang out into the dusty silence.

"How did you get here?" he snarled at her, embarrassed that she had been able to enter the room without attracting his attention.

"I used the door," she answered as she walked toward him. "I don't need magic to move quietly."

"And speaking of magic," she continued, "I'm surprised that someone like you needs to rely on an oil lantern." She placed her hands together, and when she opened them a globe of light rose into the air. She made a show of surveying the piles of books he had left lying on the floor and table. "This is some mess you've made."

Ganondorf frowned. She was being facetious, and it put him on edge. This woman had many faces, and he could not yet tell which one she was presenting to him.

"What are you doing here?" he asked as he watched her approach.

"I want to talk about what happened in Kakariko, and I came to find you. Don't tell me you've been in the library all day. What have you been looking for?"

"Nothing I can find in this mess." He swept his hand out toward the shelves. "You'd think the people in your kingdom read nothing but romances."

Zelda shrugged. "So what if we do? There are truths in such stories that are hidden from official accounts of battles and treaties and the great deeds of kings. Are you searching for something specific, or are you just upset because you haven't been able to find any mention of your own name?"

Ganondorf sat back in his chair and crossed his arms as he regarded Zelda, who stood on the other side of the table, a slight grin on her face. She was baiting him to give up information, challenging him to a game. Fine, then. He would make his move.

"I wasn't looking for my name," he told her. "I was looking for yours."

To his surprise, she laughed, but the bitterness in her voice was clear. "You won't find it," she said. "No matter how many years I sit on the throne, I will never be a king of Hyrule. I am simply a placeholder for a proper monarch, one who has all the suitable..." She made an obscene gesture and smirked. "Attributes."

"How old are you?" he couldn't help asking.

"Approximately two hundred years younger than you," she answered flatly.

Ganondorf scowled in distaste at her rudeness before remembering that Hylian women did not like to be pressed on such things. He had been told that their men found the ripeness of experience unattractive, and that it was insulting for a woman to be reminded of her age. "My apologies," he said. "The youthfulness of your face belies the depth of your wisdom."

Zelda snorted. "Those are pretty words," she said, "but I'm not that young. I must remain a 'princess,' so many people assume I'm still a child. Being underestimated has its advantages, but I would prefer if you didn't condescend to me."

"I assure you I had no intention of being condescending."

"Good. Now why don't you tell me what you've been doing here all day." It was not a question.

Ganondorf could easily fend her off with half-truths, but he saw no reason to lie. "You've just given me the information I wanted, which is that it's been two hundred years since I was last in Hyrule." He paused and waited for her affirmation.

Zelda shrugged. "Give or take. I'm sure you noticed that there are a number of books in the room where I was imprisoned during the occupation of the castle. I did a bit of research on my own, and no two authors can agree on the dates. Two hundred years is my best estimate, but I could be wrong."

"How far Hyrule has fallen," Ganondorf said without malice. He looked out into the darkness beyond the library windows. The castle had once been hailed as a shining monument of light, and it was still strange to see nothing but murky shadows in its gardens and hallways after the sun set.

"You don't need to rub it in," Zelda sighed. "Listen..." She trailed off, ran her palm across the surface of the table, and then clapped the dust from her hands as she continued. "I know you're trying to learn more about Ganon. That's what you think happened in Kakariko, right?"

Ganondorf wondered what she knew. What was she hiding, and how much would she reveal? "Ganon is just a legend," he said sharply.

"That's not precisely true, but I don't want to talk about it here," Zelda responded as she walked around to his side of the table.

"What do you suggest we do, then?" He watched as she adjusted the dial on the lantern that lowered its wick and extinguished its flame. Her own ball of illumination remained in the air behind her, but its light had grown dim.

"Come to the tower with me. No one will overhear us there."

"Do you trust me enough to allow me into your private room in the dead of night? Have you not considered the possibility that I am Ganon?" Ganondorf asked as he met her eyes.

"I've given the matter quite a bit of thought, but..." Zelda smiled and looked away. "You are my fiancé, after all."

#Zelda fic #Zelgan #Ganondorf #Princess Zelda #The Marriage of Lanayru #my fic

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