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[dailyhindigk]

Today Current Affairs In Hindi। 02 June 2022

Today Current Affairs In Hindi। 02 June 2022

आज की करंट अफ़ेयर्स में आपका स्वागत है।Today Current Affairs In Hindi 02 June 2022 के जितने भी सवाल बनते है। आज हम उन सवालों को आपके लिए लेकर आए है तो दोस्तों सभी सवालों को ध्यान से पढ़ना और ऊपर रेटिंग का ओप्सन दिया गया है तो उस पर रेट भी कर देना। नोट : इस पोस्ट को अपने सभी दोस्तों को शेयर भी कर देना। प्रश्न 1. हाल ही में राष्ट्रीय चिकित्सा दिवस कब मनाया गया है? 28 जून को 30 जून को 29 जून को 01…

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[ozzgin]

Yandere! House Monster x Reader (II)

It’s officially a smutty sitcom: you, the oblivious gamer boyfriend, and the tentacle monster lurking in dark corners.

[First part]

Content: gender neutral reader, monster smut

Do monsters have a sense of humor? This creature seems to be greatly amused by the little "game" you've devised behind your boyfriend's back. Although you don't have much input in the affair, and most of the time you're merely a witness to the events unfolding before you (or in you).

First, there's the mild, inoffensive annoyances. "Babe, did you see my controller? I swear I left it on the couch". Some pranks are harder to swallow than others, such as the occasional lack of Internet. You know exactly when it happens, because you can hear your boyfriend's enraged shouts and rattles. It's always during important matches. No one knows why it happens. The repairmen who cross your threshold can only scratch their heads in confusion, confessing that nothing is out of the ordinary.

Then, the unfortunate coincidences. "How about we have some fun after my game?", the boyfriend will suggest with an anticipative grin. Alas, moments after he stands up, he is overwhelmed by a nauseous feeling. His stomach twirls and throbs, and he curses under his breath. "Some other time, perhaps", he concludes begrudgingly. You see, the creature is very possessive. The only thing that has saved your beloved partner from being torn to shreds already is his crassly comical obliviousness.

The mischief aimed towards the boyfriend is, however, a secondary source of entertainment. Nothing could ever come close to spending time with you. Yet another irony to this ridiculous situation: you haven't been caught yet, despite the rabid clinginess of the tentacled monster.

It just loves surprising you. For example, when you exhale dramatically at the end of the day, relaxing in the bathtub and enjoying your peace. Just as you hear an impatient knock on the door, you notice a familiar dark tendril slithering its way out of the water. You won't be leaving the bathroom anytime soon. "Did you steam yourself over there? You look like a lobster", the boyfriend will remark with a raised eyebrow upon seeing your panting, feverish face. "Y-yeah, I guess so." You limp outside, struggling to hold the towel around your body. Or more specifically, around the many marks left on your skin by hundreds of suckers.

In fact, its shamelessness reminds you of a poorly written erotic scenario, the likes you'd see on some adult website with a clickbait title. How would you name this current setup? You grip the edge of the table, pursing your lips to prevent any moans escaping your mouth. Your boyfriend is, once again, scrolling on his phone, indifferent to your presence. The water boiling on the stove drowns the wet, slippery sounds of the appendages pumping in and out of you underneath the table. “You might want to give it a stir in a moment, or it’ll overflow”, the boyfriend remarks without lifting his gaze. You mumble in agreement, slapping a hand over your mouth. You’re at your limit.

One may be tempted to ask, is this entity bound to its house? You pondered the same question until your recent IKEA visit. You and your boyfriend had been looking for a new wardrobe. "What do you think of this one?", you asked, closing the door and turning around. Your eyes scanned the empty model-bedroom. The jackass had wandered ahead without you. You sighed and were about to go find him, when a cold grip suddenly tightened around your wrist. You winced and snapped your head back. Thick tendrils had made their way out of the closet, tugging you to join them inside. So it can follow you around, you thought, climbing into the cramped space. Between the silent whines and breathy begging, an idea emerges from your dazed mind. New hypothetical video title: mercilessly molested in the IKEA store by monster partner.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere monster #yandere monster x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #monster x reader #monster x human #monster boyfriend #tentacle monster #monster smut #terato #teratophillia #monster fucker

[studyqz]

29 September 2022 Current Affairs in Hindi - 29 सितंबर 2022 करेंट अफेयर्स - Study Qz

29 September 2022 Current Affairs in Hindi – 29 सितंबर 2022 करेंट अफेयर्स – Study Qz

29 September 2022 Current Affairs in Hindi : हेलो दोस्तों, आज हम आपके लिए ‘29 सितम्बर 2022 करेंट अफेयर्स’ के सभी महत्वपूर्ण प्रश्न लेकर आये है। ये सभी करेंट Current Affairs, SSC, UPSSSC, UPTET, Railway, Bank, और अन्य सभी एकदिवसीय परीक्षा के लिए यह 29 September Current Affairs in Hindi की पोस्ट बहुत महत्वपूर्ण है। हमारी वेबसाइट Study Qz पर प्रतिदिन आपके लिए डेली करेंट अपेयर्स (Daily Current…

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#29 September 2022 Current Affairs #29 september current affairs #Current affairs 2022 #current affairs today #important questions in hindi #today current affairs #today current affairs in hindi

[deepthoughts8979]

CURRENT AFFAIRS JULY 2ND WEEK PART - 2 || Cgpscbheem Academy

#youtube #current affairs 2022 in hindi current affairs 2022 important questions current affairs 2021 top 70 current affairs 2022 most important quest

[cameronspecial]

Bad Friend

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings:  Swearing, Mentions of Sex and Making A Bet On A Date On Getting A Date With A Girl.

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 10.8K

Summary: After Rafe makes a bet with Topper, it leaves him in need of Y/N's help. Y/N doesn't believe in love, but through getting to know Rafe while helping him, she may start to rethink her thoughts about the feeling.

Masterlist

“I dare you to get Y/N to date you,” Topper challenges, taking a sip from his drink. Rafe’s eyes stare at the pair of girls stumbling over each other, laughing as they trip on the sand. They are obviously very drunk. Rafe doesn’t think he has ever seen her smile. The only person who could break Y/N’s enigmatic and emotionless composure is the girl currently being held up by her, Amanda. Rafe isn’t one to back down from a dare, but he also doesn’t chase after a lost cause. Love isn’t something that Y/N has ever sought after. It isn’t a secret to anyone on the island. She’s the product of an affair; her Kook father cheated on his wife with her Mainlander mother. She grew up listening to her mother’s stories about how charismatic boys always leave behind brokenhearted girls. About how even though Willard Graham genuinely did love Cordelia Y/L/N, the money his wife, who was back in the Outer Banks, would bring was more important than the little girl he bore with Cordelia. This didn’t stop Cordelia from moving to the Outer Banks and Willard didn’t object, he wanted to be in his daughter’s life. But that truth imprinted itself on Y/N. She saw how the possibility of love tore her mother apart and she vowed to never let herself go through the same thing. In fact, she abandoned all notions of emotions in general. Feelings made her vulnerable and vulnerability got her hurt. 

Rafe doesn’t need to get tangled up in that mess. He pulls away from the sight of the best friends and shakes his head at Topper. “Nah, I don’t feel like dealing with her. She may be all bark and no bite, but I don’t want to deal with that yapping dog,” he refutes. Kelce chuckles, “Come on, you scared you won't be able to win her over. Or better yet, maybe you’re scared of her.” The rest of the senior boys laugh, teasing Rafe about being frightened by the junior. “Dude, I could get any girl I want. But if I’m going to be going after someone, I might as well go for someone that’s actually hot. Y/N looks like she fucks about as good as a sack of potatoes,” Rafe disagrees. 

Topper gives into Rafe’s demands for a different target, “Fine. How about Amanda? We’ve all heard the rumours about her in bed, but she will be hard to get with guard dog Y/N by her side. So I bet you can’t get Amanda to go on a date with you by the end of the summer.” He spots the girls again from across the fire. “What do I get if I win?” Rafe questions, swirling the solo cup in his hand. What’s the point of a bet if Rafe doesn’t gain anything from it? “Bragging rights,” Topper continues when he sees Rafe’s raised eyebrows. “And… we’ll each give you two thousand dollars.” This piques Rafe’s interest. He honestly would’ve done it for the bragging rights, ten thousand is a raindrop compared to the ocean of his family wealth, but it’s always fun to get a little extra money. Before Rafe can agree, Kelce speaks up with his own question. “Hold on, what do we get if you lose?” Rafe’s hand reaches for his chin, rubbing it as he thinks about what he can offer. Money is a plausible option, yet it’s nothing to the rich Kooks. He feels the buzz of his phone with a notification from Barry saying that his next stock is ready. A lightbulb shines in his mind. “I’ll give you all free blow for a month,” he suggests, shoving his phone back in his pocket. Sure, they can afford their own drugs, yet the principle of getting stuff for free gets to anyone. His friends grin at him. “Deal.” 

———

Amanda Dalton. One of the sweetest Kooks around and also the most innocent. She’s the epitome of the dumb blonde stereotype, no matter how much Y/N tries to help her friend out. “Y/N, what state is Canada in? I can’t find this on the map?” Amanda asks, searching through the American map. Y/N sighs and searches up a map of North America, “Babe, Canada is its own country. See. It’s right on top of America. So it’s not a state.” Amanda concentrates on her friend’s phone. “Oh, that makes sense,” she whispers, going back to typing on her phone. Y/N puts her phone away and continues to paint her nails, “Why do you want to know?” “Well, I wanted to buy tickets for the Era’s tour in To…ron…to. It says it’s in Canada,” Amanda explains.

“Toronto? That is in Canada.”

“How about Vancouver? It says British Columbia. Is that in England? I’ve always wanted to go to England.”

“No, Babe. Vancouver is in Canada. British Columbia is the province. It’s like a State. Why are you looking at other concerts anyway? Didn’t your dad already get us the tickets for the concert and plane?”

Amanda nods, “He did. I wanted to go to another one. I guess I won’t be though. Thank you for coming by the way. I know you aren’t the biggest fan of concerts.” Y/N looks up at her friend with a smile. “No problem, I would do anything for you. You know that. Plus, someone has to keep you safe.” Y/N takes Amanda’s hand, starting to paint the girl’s nails without asking. Much to the girls’ surprise, the sliding door opens and Rafe appears before their eyes. “Hello, ladies. How are we today?” he questions with a smile. He settles in the chair between the girls and leans forward on the table. “What are you doing here?” The friends postulate at the same time. Amanda with curiosity. Y/N with annoyance. He flashes his pearly teeth, “Mr. Dalton asked me to come over. I’m helping my dad with the company and he is making a deal with Mr. Dalton, so I offered to come over to go over the contract one more time.” 

“How sweet!” Amanda gushes. Y/N has the opposite idea, “So why are you with us right now?” Rafe ignores the latter and turns to the former. “Not as sweet as your cupcakes. Your little brother let me try one and it was delicious,” he compliments. Y/N knits her eyebrows together. She doesn’t understand why Rafe is being so nice. He’s only polite to people he wants something out of. Amanda’s cheeks turn red and she turns her head to hide it, “Thank you. It’s a new recipe.” “Well, it was really good. If you like cupcakes, I know this great bakery on Maine Street. Maybe… maybe I can take you some time,” he proposes with a charming grin. Amanda’s eyes start to twinkle, “I would love that. Y/N and I love cupcakes. Her favourite is salted caramel. Do they have them?” Rafe is about to correct the assumption that Y/N is invited when the door opens again. 

“Rafe, thank you for waiting and coming over. I’m ready to go over the contract now,” Mr. Dalton announces, giving Rafe room to walk back into the house. Rafe bids goodbye to the girls and follows Mr. Dalton inside. 

———

Y/N closes the front door behind her, making sure to yell out to the family to lock the door after her. The gravel gives way to the pressure of her feet and she puts her headphones on as she picks up her bike from the ground. Her father tried to buy her a car, but she wouldn’t take it. The only thing she allows Mr. Graham to do for her is to pay her tuition at Kildare Academy, but she refuses his help for anything else. She even started working at The Wreck so that she could grow independent from him in university. Unlike most people in the Outer Banks, Y/N doesn’t really belong to either of the tribes. Her father is a wealthy judge, who is the son of an affluent lawyer and doctor. Her mother makes enough as a software developer for them to sit comfortably, nowhere near Kook level, yet also more than the Pogues. Sometimes it’s hard for Y/N to be in the middle of both worlds. Both accept her into their groups, except for the times when she does something that goes against their nature and then it’s like she belongs to neither. Like when she went to Midsummer as a guest, the Pogues were quick to mock her for being a part of the tradition. Or when she sided with the Pogues during a fight between the two groups and suddenly, the Kooks didn’t know who she was. 

Before she hops on the bike, the front door opening and closing causes her to turn around. She thought maybe she had forgotten something and Amanda was coming to bring it to her. Instead, she finds Rafe watching her. Rafe isn’t expecting to see Y/N at the end of the driveway. He didn’t see her when he said goodbye to Amanda, so he assumed she had left a while ago. As they stare at each other, an idea pops into Rafe’s mind. It’s a long shot, except if he can get her to do it, then it would help him along with the bet. Even though, Amanda isn’t a virgin, everyone knows she can be a little ditsy in terms of actual dating. As made evident in his earlier conversation with her, she isn’t the greatest at detecting that someone is flirting with her. He knows that the way other people have had sex with her is because she approached them and Rafe didn’t want to play the game like that. It would be too easy. Plus, Y/N backs off the guys if Amanda is the one to initiate it. He is here to play the game, so he will. 

“Do you want a ride?” he calls out, opening the passenger’s side door for her. Y/N considers it for a second. It would take her around thirty minutes to bike home and only ten minutes by drive. All it takes is for her to notice the setting sun for her to come closer to him. She doesn’t say anything as she opens the back of the truck bed. She struggles a little with putting her bike in the back, so Rafe helps her out. His hand accidentally grazes her arm and she jerks it away from him as soon as she feels his touch. She storms off into the car. Rafe sighs and closes up the back. This is going to be harder than he thought. 

The truck sits in silence before she breaks it. “What are you up to with Amanda?” she interrogates, not looking away from out the window. Rafe isn’t sure how to word his proposition, “Nothing, I was just being nice.” “That’s a lie. Everyone knows that isn’t in your vocabulary,” she retorts. He shrugs and looks back at the road, “Maybe it is now. Amanda is a darling. She deserves to be treated in a pleasant way.” 

“You don’t treat your own sister like that. What makes Amanda so special?”

“I don’t know maybe I like her…” 

He tries to make the words as genuine as he can, looking over to Y/N to further the believability. “Ha, I’m not going to let you go anywhere near her,” she laughs. This is his opportunity, “You might change your mind once you hear what I have to offer.” The joy she feels stops abruptly. She shouldn’t be intrigued, yet she is. He takes her silence as a motion to keep going, “I’ll pay you ten thousand dollars if you help me get a date with Amanda.” Her first instinct is to reject him, “You are ridiculous if you think I would do that to my best friend.”

“Why not? You aren’t doing anything bad. I don’t want to hurt her. Just take her on a date. No offence to her, but we both know that talking to her can make you feel like a catapult. Everything goes over her head.”

“It’s practically selling my friend to you for 10K. I’m not doing it.”

“You aren’t selling her to me, just helping me out. Like a consultant. You could use the money for university. I bet it would go a long way.” 

He got her. He can see the moment her frown turns to interest and he has to stop himself from celebrating. Her mind hates her right now. How could her mood instantly change at such a selfish thought? She thought that she was more loyal and had better values than that. However, the money would help her out a lot with tuition and it’s not like Amanda has to know. “Fine, I’ll help you.” This is a bad idea. 

———

Closer to closing The Wreck is practically a desert town. Y/N sits at the counter, reading over her textbook. “I’d like a table for two, please,” a voice interrupts her studying. She looks up to see that Rafe is alone. She chuckles, “And who is going to be joining you? Your ghost girlfriend.” “Haha. I forgot how funny you are. No, you are,” he reacts, waiting for her to give him a table. She gets up to get him a menu, “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m working.” “There is no one here, Y/N. If someone does come, then I wouldn’t get angry at you for getting up to help them,” he points out, holding his hand out to the booth he decided to sit at since she isn’t moving. She huffs in defeat and joins him at the table. “Did you want to order anything? I don’t think Mike and Anna would like it if I just let you hang out here,” she informs before sitting down. Rafe glances over the menu, “Ugh, a cheeseburger, fries and a coke for me, please. And then get whatever you want. On me.” Y/N’s eyebrows rise at the mention of a please and that he’ll pay for her food. She isn’t going to argue though because who doesn’t like free food? 

Rafe plays with his rings while he waits for her to return. “Alright, I put the order in,” she tells him, sliding into the booth across from him. He nods and looks down, “Thanks.” She waits for him to talk and gets annoyed when he doesn’t. “Why did you come here, Rafe?” she asks with irk dripping from her voice. He gathers his thoughts, “You said you’d help me get through to Amanda. So what can you tell me?” “Right. Then I have two things I want to bring up. One. I’m going to quiz you to make sure you actually care for her. Two. If you pass, we are going over the terms of this deal,” she lists with two fingers up. Nerves cause goosebumps to run up and down his arms. The prospect of being quizzed on Amanda makes him worry that he won’t be able to keep up this charade. He extends his hand out, motioning for her to continue. “I’ll start easy. When is her birthday?” she tests. 

“May 25th.” 

“Correct. What’s her favourite TV show?” 

“She says The Good Place because it’s your favourite, but it’s really The Bachelorette.” 

“Okay. Last year, she had an allergic reaction to something. What was it?”

“She got stung by a bee.”

“Right. Final question, what does she do when she gets nervous.” Rafe pauses for a second. He has no idea what the answer is. The only reason why he knows all the other stuff is because Amanda is a loud talker, but something that comes from an observance of her wouldn’t register in his brain. As he thinks, his eyes are drawn to the way Y/N’s fingers dance along the table. He can tell they are moving in a pattern but he can’t keep track of it. “Are you going to answer the question?” she impatiently queries. He focuses on her face, “No, I honestly don’t know. I really do like her. I promise.” “Your promises don’t mean anything to me, but you still pass. I was going to help you anyway, knowing those things don’t mean anything. I just wanted to make you suffer a little,” she teases with a soft smile that Rafe enjoys. He chuckles, “You got me. So, to go over the deal. As long as she goes on a date with me by the end of the summer, you get your money. Does that work for you?” “It works perfectly. I’m going to add that I am not going to let you do anything that hurts her and if you do it behind my back, I’m going to chop your dick off and sell it on the black market to be eaten by the creepiest bidder,” she threatens, her finger pointed at him. He extends his hand out to her, “Deal.” 

———

Y/N readjusts the magazines on the ottoman one more time. She doesn’t know why she told Rafe to come over to her house, but there is more of a chance that they get caught by her going over to his house than by him coming over to hers. There are always more eyeballs on Tannyhill. She is snapped out of her worry by the ding-dong that sounds throughout the house. Her sock-covered feet glide against the hardwood floors as she hurries to answer the door. “Hi,” she greets a little out of breath from her cartoon-like slip. “Come in.” She steps out of the way so Rafe can make his way inside. He enters the house and takes off his shoes once he notices the pile by the door. His eyes examine the open plan of the house. Her house isn’t anything like one would find on the Cut, yet it also isn’t as big as the ones in the Figure Eight. It was brand new when Cordelia bought it and since then, it has undergone small renovations as necessary. 

“I get that it isn’t as big as your house. You don’t need to make googly eyes like that though,” she comments, heading to the kitchen to get something to drink. He shakes his head, “No, I wasn’t thinking that. Your house looks cozy. I like it.” “Well, I don’t care for your approval. Do you want something to drink?” she offers, holding up a can of coke. Rafe doesn’t know if the choice of drink is because she is getting one for herself or if she remembers his order from The Wreck. His head flicks up to signal he does want one. He settles on the couch and listens to the sound of the can being cracked open. She pours the drink into a glass with ice, walking over to join him on the couch. When she places her water next to his bubbly pop, he concludes that she remembered his order and this causes his stomach to flip. He could tell people a hundred times what his favourite food is and he would bet all his money they wouldn’t hold the information in their brain. She takes a sip from her drink, “You have to be more direct when it comes to Amanda, but also not too obvious with what you want or you’ll scare her off.” “If I have to be clear and not clear at the same time, where does that leave me?” he questions with a chuckle. She holds her fingers up so they are practically touching, “In this sweet spot that gets you a date with her.” He sits against the back of the couch. “Okay, so how do I get in that sweet spot?” he inquires, drinking from his cup. “Movies. Recreate a famous movie scene and that’s when it will click in for her.”

“What kind of movies? Like romcoms?” he gets her to clarify. She nods and squats in front of the entertainment centre under the television. She pulls out different DVDs, placing them in front of him. “Yep, we are going to watch all of her favourite rom-com movies, so take notes,” she tells him. He looks at the spread in front of him, “You actually have DVDs.” “Yeah, these cheer Amanda up when she is down and you never know when streaming services will take them down,” she says nonchalantly. He gives her a soft gaze, “You must like the movies too if you bought them though.” “Not really. They’re okay. I prefer mystery movies. Knives Out, A Simple Favor, The Menu. You know, stuff like that,” she lists while popping in the first movie. Rafe thinks it’s sweet that Y/N went out of the way to buy these comfort things for her best friend. 

During the ads, Y/N goes to the kitchen to get some snacks for them. The variety she has is impressive, yet he doesn’t find the quintessential movie night snack. “No popcorn? Not that I’m complaining.” She brings the box of donuts in her lap, “Nah, who needs to fill up on that shit when I’ve got Krispy Kreme donuts.” He watches as she picks up a jelly-filled donut and bites into it. She lets out a small moan, pulling the treat away from her mouth to leave behind the red jam at the corner of her lips. The sound she made went straight to his brain, the one downstairs. His hand goes up to his own mouth to hint at the mess on her face. She wipes at the wrong side, so he goes to wipe the correct corner. She jerks away from him, “It’s okay I got it.” “Sorry,” he mumbles, dropping his gaze with shame. She shakes her head, “It’s fine. I just don’t like being touched. Do you want a donut?” He picks out a regular glazed donut and eats it. “You are right, these are better than popcorn. I have to ask though, why donuts over popcorn?” 

“My mom never liked popcorn. Said they made the house smell when you popped it and the kernels were a choking hazard. Plus, since Krispy Kreme isn’t on the island, she’d make it a whole event when we went to the main island to get them for movie night.” 

“That sounds fun. Are the jelly donuts your favourite?” 

“Yep, I like strawberries and who doesn’t like powdered sugar.”

“True, both very valid reasons to like it. Can I have one?” 

She pulls the box away from him, “That’s a funny joke. These ones are mine.” “You’re territorial, noted,” he thinks out loud. The movie starts and a hush falls on both of them. After watching a few movies, they take a break to go to the bathroom. “Do you want to watch The Good Place?” he proposes as she walks back into the room. She tilts her head at him, “Sure. I meant to ask. How do you know it’s my favourite show?” He changes the TV to the Firestick and pulls up the show on Netflix. His shoulder rises, “You talked about it in philosophy class. It was what you made your presentation on and you sounded so passionate about it that it was clear how much you liked the show.” “Huh, I didn’t think you would notice that,” she thinks out loud. He gives her a pointed look, “I’m not as unobservant as people think that I am, you know. I do actually listen when other people speak.” She smirks at him. “Really? I wasn’t aware your ears had the ability to listen.”

———

The sight before her is one that she never dreamed of seeing. She honestly isn’t sure if her rom-com plan is going to work, but getting Rafe to recreate the movie and the money is worth the lie she told him. It wasn’t hard to get most of their class to come to the football field during the summer. Everyone will do what Rafe would say and people are too scared of Y/N to argue. When the speaker turns on with a loud screech, multiple people duck with their hands covering their ears. The beginning melodies of “Can’t Take My Eyes off Of You” by Frankie Valli start to play and out comes Rafe from behind the bleachers. He sings the lyrics as he moves from side to side of the rows, pointing to Amanda to make it clear who he is talking to. Y/N glances at her friend to see the other girl’s eyebrows connected. She nudges her friend with her elbow, “I think he is serenading you.” “Like in 10 Things I Hate About You?” Amanda’s eyes brighten. Y/N’s head moves up and down, “I think so.” Amanda’s hands come together near her heart and a smile paints on her face. 

“This is so sweet. Do you think he wants to fuck?” 

“Babe, for him to go through all of this, I think he wants to do a lot more than have sex.” 

The song finishes and Rafe hops over bench after bench to run in front of Amanda. “Please go on a date with me, Beautiful,” Rafe pleads. Y/N should feel happy that the plan is working. The look on her best friend’s face says it all, yet it doesn’t help the ugly roar she wants to let out at the nickname he used. She is pulled out of her thoughts by Amanda screaming yes. Amanda flings herself into his arms and kisses his face. The student body claps to congratulate the pair. With the endgame achieved, Y/N feels she is overstepping, so she starts heading back to her bike. 

A voice from behind her halts her departure. “Hey, Y/N, wait. Where are you going?” She spins around to see Rafe chasing after her. “I’m heading home. You got your date to go on and I’ll wait until you go on it to collect what you owe me,” she says, getting on her bike. Right as she is about to petal off, Rafe runs in front of her and grabs her handlebars so she can’t go further. His head moves from side to side, “We are going out tomorrow. She has dinner planned with her family tonight, so I thought that maybe as a thank you, we can go to the Mainland and get some doughnuts.” “From Krispy Kreme?” she mutters, playing with the knob of her bike bell. He smiles, “Where else? Come on, we can make an afternoon out of it. I think it would be fun.” “And why would you want to spend more time with me? I’m not the one that you like,” she responds. His fingers meet her hands on the bar. When she doesn’t flinch, Rafe thinks she lied about not liking being touched or maybe her feelings about him have changed. “Because I’m grateful that you are helping me and I want to thank you.”

“You will thank me with the ten thousand dollars that you give me.”

Rafe doesn’t know why he insists on taking Y/N out; he really wants to spend the afternoon with Y/N. 

“Are you really turning down a free doughnut? I saw that box, you don’t have any more strawberry jelly doughnuts to fill your tummy, Petite Louve.” 

Three years of French means that Y/N can easily translate the nickname he calls her. Little Wolf. She wants to ask why he called her that, except her rumbling stomach gets her to agree with his statement instead, “Fine, let’s go.” Rafe lets out a victorious whoop and he helps her off her bike. They walk beside each other to his car. Y/N would bump her hip against his every once in a while, which would cause him to knock into the bike that he was holding for her. He could only chuckle every time she did so. 

———

“How can you drink that? It’s basically all sugar?”

“Says the person who is about to eat a bunch of donuts. I don’t think you can judge me though because you are drinking pure dark roast. No wonder you are so bitter.”

Y/N giggles, “I will have you know that my bitterness is due to the fact that most people suck.” “Hm, that makes more sense. Here, try some. Maybe it will make you a little sweeter,” he offers. He tips the straw in her direction. The light brown slushy-like drink is topped with whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles. Her lips wrap around the tube and suck. Rafe tries to stop the intruding thought of her lips being around something else. He doesn’t know why the image came into his mind; he shouldn’t think of her like that. Her face scrunches as soon as the sweet liquid hits her tongue. “Blegh, I was right. This is too sweet,” she criticizes. She hands him back his drink and their hands brush against each other. He laughs at her reaction and she loves the way it sounds. He takes a sip from his drink, “Why am I not surprised that it’s too sweet for you, Petite Louve?” She stops swirling the coffee cup in her hand and looks up at him. “Why did you start calling me that?” she queries. He leans back in his chair, “Call you what?” “Petite Louve,” she utters without hesitation. His elbows meet the table as he places his head on his hands, “It means little wolf.” He knows what she wants to know, except he is enjoying this game. She rolls her eyes and her arms cross one on top of the other. “I was in your French class last year, Rafe. I know what it means,” she scolds, giving him a dead stare. Rafe’s hands go up in defence, “Alright, alright. It’s because wolves are protective of their pack and they don’t often let outsiders in. That’s how you are with your pack.” 

“I see. Wolves are pretty cool so I accept that nickname,” she concludes. He lets out a satisfied breath, “They are. So are you going to eat your doughnut or are we going to stare at it all afternoon?” Her eyes dart to the white puff piece in front of her. She picks it out and holds it up to him. He gives her a raised eyebrow. “Because you let me try your drink,” she clarifies, waving it in his face. He takes a bite and similar to what happened to her a few days ago, a small red blob forms at the corner of his lips. Her arm instinctively reaches for his face and wipes the smear off his face. She uses the napkin to clean off her thumb. “Thanks,” he shows his gratitude by offering the doughnut he picked out for himself. 

She takes a bite out of it and they eat in silence for a few minutes. “I totally embarrassed myself this afternoon, didn’t I?” he verifies between bites of his caramel Kreme crunch. A grin forms on her face as she recalls the events, “I thought it was hilarious. Unfortunately, from what I saw on Insta, every girl found it romantic and every guy wished they thought of it to get into Amanda’s pants.” Rafe can see the gears turning behind her eyes. “You are planning their downfall, aren’t you?” Her grin turns wicked, “Most definitely. They are going to regret the shit they said.” “Well, I’m looking forward to seeing what you have planned for those guys,” he informs. They had about two more doughnuts each before packing up the rest for home. He opens the door for her and hovers his hand on her lower back as he guides her to his car, making sure not to make any contact with her. She can feel the heat emanating from his hand and wishes that she can feel the weight of it. He pulls the passenger’s side door open for her, closing it once she is safely in the truck. As he drives to the ferry, his eyes dart toward her and drink in her appearance. Her shoes are resting firmly on the floor mat while her sock-clad feet are curled under her leg. She leans back against the car seat with her hands on her knee. The slight dip at the corner of her lips does not stop her from mouthing along to the lyrics of the song. 

Her clothes aren’t name-brand like the other Kook girls. It looks like something she could get at any generic store. However, one thing stands out to Rafe as he watches her stick her hand out the window to glide with the wind. A gold bracelet with three small diamonds slid down her right arm. Only one person could’ve gotten her that Tiffany & Co. bracelet. “Why won’t you let your dad pay for your university?” The hand out the window drops onto her lap. She fiddles with her bracelet. “He didn’t want to be in my life. The only reason why he suddenly cared about my existence is because my mother moved here, so I could be closer to him. He solely cared for me when it fits into his life,” she begins. “If he pays for my university tuition, then it’s going to be like I owe him something. And the last thing I want is to owe that man something.” 

Rafe nods as she says, “If you don’t want to owe him anything, then why are you going to Kildare Academy? It’s not like you can’t go to Kildare Country.” “It’s an agreement I made with my mom. She agreed that I could pay for university if he pays for private school,” she shrugs. He finds it refreshing that, even though she could choose to be taken care of, she wants to provide for herself and work hard to be able to do so. The car slows once her house comes into view. It comes to a stop and Rafe reaches behind the seats for the box of doughnuts in the back. His hand accidentally brushes her shoulder; she doesn’t flinch away. Instead, she wishes his warmth would remain against her skin. He turns toward her and rests it on her lap. “Thanks… for everything. It was really nice of you,” her voice is barely above the sound of a mouse. He flashes her a smile, “No problem. And should I be concerned that you are being kind to me? Are you playing nice so I don’t suspect you are going to kill me?” “Haha, I’ll have you know that I can be delightful sometimes,” she retorts. Her eyes wander down his face to his pink lips. They appear to be softer than she expected. He doesn’t seem like the type to use lip balm. He notices her line of sight and instinctively, he examines the curve of her lips. 

His head leans forward and she follows his lead. A knock at the window causes them to jump away from each other. “Hey, Baby! Where have you been?” Cordelia yells through the window. “Is that Rafe Cameron beside you?” The mother squints at the boy sitting beside her daughter. “Yes, Mom, it’s Rafe. We went to the Mainland for doughnuts. We brought you back the glazed chocolate cake ones you like,” Y/N reports to her mother whilst rolling down the windows. Rafe’s head peeks out from behind Y/N’s head, “Hello, Ms. Y/L/N.” They wave at each other and Cordelia smiles at the two of them. “Please, call me Cordelia. You bought me dessert. Do you want to come inside for dinner? We are probably going to order from The Wreck,” she suggests. Rafe shakes his head with tight lips, “I would love to if I didn’t have to go to dinner with my family tonight.” “Ahh, that’s too bad. You definitely have to come over another time,” she encourages. He assents to the statement, “It would be my pleasure.” Y/N gets out of the car, gathers her bike from the back and the women bid Rafe au dieu as he drives back home. 

“You and Rafe would make a pretty cute couple.” Y/N’s eyes orbit themselves, “We aren’t a couple, Mom.” “Sureee. I saw you guys were about to kiss. It was funny seeing how fast you guys jumped away from each other,” the mother taunts her daughter. Y/N groans, “Forget about delivery, I’ll pick up our food myself.” She hops on her bike and starts making her way to the restaurant. “You can’t escape my questioning forever, Baby,” Cordelia screams to the girl fading into the distance. 

———

He didn’t want to lie with Y/N close by; he couldn’t exactly reveal to her that he was going to meet up with his friends to collect his winnings from a bet. It would ruin everything if she found out about the bet. “I think it’s cheating that you got Y/N to help you out,” Topper objects, setting his stack of money on the table. He shrugs, “We didn’t mention anything about getting outside help. We merely talked about me getting a date with Amanda, which I am going on tomorrow.” Rafe counts the money, listening to his friend complain to the others.

———

Y/N couldn’t stop thinking about what her mother said. When she got home, her mother wouldn’t believe that Rafe wasn’t her boyfriend until she told the older woman he was going on a date with Amanda. Despite that, her mind is plagued with the idea of being his girlfriend. She’s never felt this way before about someone. She shouldn’t feel this way about him. Love isn’t something that is on her checklist for things she wants to achieve in life. “Get out of my brain you insufferable man,” she grumbles to herself. She twists to rest on her other side, watching the light shine on her bedroom wall as a car drives by. Why can she still feel the warmth of his hand at the bottom of her back? Why didn’t she feel uncomfortable by his touch on her shoulder? She places her hand over the shoulder he touched, trying to simulate his touch. It doesn’t feel the same. Her hand drops to her elbow and she goes through the day. The envy she felt at Rafe calling Amanda beautiful. The sweet gesture of going out of his way to take her somewhere that means so much to her. The way he respected her boundaries about being touched when she didn’t initiate it. These all lead her to one conclusion she can’t make sense of. She must be falling in love with Rafe Cameron. And there is one thing she needs to do before his date tomorrow that is going to make her a bad friend. 

———

Rafe jogs over to the front door and swings it open. “Hey, I got your money. I was going to give it to you tomorrow… I can get it for you now if you want,” he propositions, stepping back to head upstairs. Her hand darts out to grab his wrist. At the contact, she retracts her arm back to her side with a mumbled sorry. “It’s okay, come in. If you aren’t here for the cash, what did you want to talk about?” he queries. She avoids the windows to his soul and plays with the bottom of her sweater’s sleeve. “Petite Louve, are you okay?” he worries, his hands ghosting the side of her arms. Her normal assurance seems to have evaporated completely from her body. She finally has the confidence to look at him, “Do you really like Amanda?” He pauses, unsure of what to say. “O-of course I do. Why else would I ask for your help with asking her out if I didn’t?”

“Maybe… maybe at the time you thought you liked her.” 

“I did and I still do.”

“Do you really though? Because you don’t have any chemistry with her. Not like you do with... With me.”

His emotions flood him like an ocean overtaking a desert. How can he deny something so true? Except he has too. Not simply because of his bet on Amanda, but because what do two people like them know about romantic devotion? One who doesn’t believe in it and the other who enjoys the chase too much to care about commitment. When the pads of her fingers grazed his face yesterday, he thought he would do anything else to have it on him again. He’d chop off the hand of anyone else who tried to touch him if it meant forgetting what she made him sense. With her standing in front of him, he could have all of that. However, he knows how fragile her heart is and he can’t be the one to accidentally break it. 

“I have no idea what you are talking about Y/N. I like Amanda and I’m going on a date with her. What else would all of this be for? You and I are purely friends and I value that friendship.” 

A dagger to her back isn’t the word for what this feels like. It’s more accurate to say that he put a bag over her head and held it there to leave her gasping for air. This is why she doesn’t believe in love. Because right when a person thinks they have it, the universe rips it away from them in some cruel act. It’s what happened to her mother and it is what’s happening to her at this moment. She fights back the swell that is trying to burst through her tear ducts. She steps away from him, inching toward the front door. Her head swivels to the side and she watches the potted plant on the side sway with the wind. “Right, friends. How could I be so wrong? I mean what would I know about love if I’ve never been in it? I’m going to go. Good luck on your date,” she apologizes, leaving without letting him say another word. Once she is gone, Rafe doesn’t know how he keeps himself upright. His head feels dizzy and his heart is being put through a shredder. He had to do it. There is no happy ending for them. Not for two people who have no idea what it is to be in love.

———

A month with Amanda was one month too long. Every date they went on further proved the mistake he made the day of their first date. He tried to be the boyfriend she deserved. Tried to fall in love with her. Just because it started as a dare, doesn’t mean it can’t be more for him. Nothing he did could make that sentiment true. His mind was occupied with someone else. With someone, he is trying to protect by lying about how he truly feels about her. This was wrong though and he knew how he could fix it. “And my dress to the party is going to be light pink, so I need your tie to mat-” Amanda can’t finish her thought cause Rafe interrupts her. “I think we should break up.” Her lips move to form soundless words. “Wh-what do you mean?” she cries with her bottom lip quivering. “We aren’t working out. I think it’s best that we break up,” he justifies. He gets up from the table and jogs out of the coffee shop to his car. If they never dated, then he couldn’t break her heart. Except it also meant he didn’t get to spend any more doughnut days. He didn’t get any more afternoons watching The Good Place. He didn’t go to The Wreck out of fear of seeing her. Getting those moments with her is worth the possibility of ending up unhappy because then he would have the good memories they made to keep him company. Mistakes can be made and they can also be fixed. 

———

Topper and Kelce talk at the booth in the corner, pausing every time Y/N gets close to them. She pays no real attention to them whilst she cleans the table around them. She focuses on finishing her task so she can go home when her shift finishes in ten minutes.  Once she finishes wiping down the table, she picks up the bus tub and starts to head toward the kitchen. Her hand goes for her phone, which makes her realize she left her phone on the chair back there. She spins to get it and catches the back end of the boys’ conversation. “I mean not only does he call her a dog, but he also compared her fuckability to a bag of potatoes and the universe is still like ‘Yeah, sure. She’ll help you win 10K by helping you get a date with her best friend.’ I mean how is that fair.” The tub at the side of her hip clatters on the ground, causing the friends to turn in her direction. “Shit,” Topper whispers. She storms toward them and slams her hands against the table, “Tell me everything.” And for fear of their dicks, they divulge every single detail about that night at the bonfire. 

———

Thanks to Sarah, who asked Kiara, Rafe knew that Y/N was working today and that her shift was about to end. He leans up against the truck, waiting for her to exit the restaurant. He thinks against putting her bike in his truck already, so she doesn’t feel obligated to talk to him. He pushes off of the side of the truck as soon as he catches sight of her walking down the wooden ramp. He frowns the closer she gets because he can now clearly see that she is touching her face to wipe away tears. Anger fills him at the thought of someone hurting his Petite Louve. He wants to harm whoever did this to her. 

He rushes to the end of the ramp, “Petite Louve, who did this to you?” He restrains himself from pulling her into a hug; instead, he waits for her to blanket herself in his hold. She freezes at his voice, chuckling at his appearance. “Oh, I didn’t know you cared about me again. Thought you would be too busy basking in the glory of your Beautiful to care for someone who can be out fucked by potatoes,” she growls, furiously digging her palms into her eyes to get rid of her tears. She refuses to let him see her vulnerable again. His eyes widen as words he said so long ago are repeated back to him. His hand drags down his mouth, “Who told you that?” “Does it really matter when it’s your words that are causing me pain?” she counters. His hands ghost her shoulders with a shake. “You don’t know the full story,” he argues, running his hands through his hair. She chortles, “So the full story isn’t that you called me a dog and said that I wasn’t attractive before using me to win a bet that would hurt my best friends. And you LIED about it. You made me so much worse of a friend than I thought I was.” “What I said doesn’t mean anything. It was all a lie. It was before… before I knew who you truly were,” he croaks, knowing this isn’t going to end as he thought it would. 

“It’s either a lie or said because you didn’t know me. Choose one because neither of those things is acceptable to me. And to think that I thought I was actually falling in love with you. You go ahead and prove that everything I thought about love is true.”

“You were falling for me?”

“No. I don’t believe in love, so I guess my brain was a little confused. How could it think that someone so selfish and self-centred could be the one for me?”

He knows that her words are true and are merely a fraction of her agony at the revelation. He is left gapping like a fish, searching for any word that would convey how sorry he is for everything. She isn’t satisfied by his wordless scramble, so she gets onto her bike. She doesn’t look back at him as she rides back home. “Fuck,” he yells once she is finally out of sight. He kicks the tire of his car. Topper and Kelce sheepishly come out, discussing how they are going to reveal this all to Rafe. For all they know, Rafe is in love with Amanda. They stop in their tracks. “Rafe…What are you doing here?” Topper frets, approaching the boy hesitantly. Rafe’s eyes burn into their souls, “WHO TOLD HER?” “It was an accident man. We’re sorry. Maybe she won’t tell Amanda,” Kelce hopes. Rafe’s hand tugs at the strands of his hair, “I don’t fucking care about Amanda. Y/N is torn up about what happened and she hates me even more than before. I was about to try to fix everything and now because of you two shitheads, I have no chance.” He slams the car door entering it, cursing why he had to screw this up in the first place.

———

Y/N had to tell Amanda the truth. She isn’t like Rafe; she can’t lie to the people she cares about. “I’m so sorry, Babe. I understand if you don’t want to be friends. I would hate myself too. I just hope you can forgive me for what I have done,” she begs with tears in her eyes. Amanda’s hand cups her friend’s, “I love you and it’s the past.” Y/N looks at Amanda with big eyes.

“You are too forgiving.”

“Or maybe you aren’t forgiving enough. Your mom forgave your dad a long time ago, so why shouldn’t I forgive you?” 

“Are you back onto this again? You think I should forgive my dad.” 

“He needs a chance, not forgiveness. From the moment you were old enough, you hated your dad. He has never gotten the chance to show you that he loves you. I mean, have you ever asked your mom how she feels now about everything?” 

Y/N stiffens, taking in the suggestion her best friend gave. Amanda continues at Y/N’s silence, “Because I have, Y/N/N. She said that in the moment, it felt horrible. But… as she got older, she realized that it was the right choice. Their relationship was the product of an affair, so she would’ve never been able to trust him if they got married.” “I… uhh… I never knew she felt that way,” Y/N admits, bowing her head in shame. Amanda squeezes Y/N’s hand, “That’s okay. You do now, therefore it means you can change. Give your dad a chance. Now, tell me what is going on with you and Rafe?” “Nothing has been going on with him,” Y/N lies. Amanda giggles, “I’m your best friend. I know when you are lying.” “Fine, I thought that I was falling for him. It was a mistake. He was just using me to get to you. I let him convince me to hurt you and I was such a bad friend for that,” Y/N reasons. Amanda shakes her head, “Please stop beating yourself up over that. As for Rafe, I think it turned into something so much more than getting your help with me.” “Why would you say that?” Y/N inquiries with a tilt of her head. “He broke up with me earlier tonight and he seemed to be on a mission when he left. From what you told me, he was going to tell you something,” Amanda starts to illuminate. “Plus, I know people think that I’m clueless, but I could tell his mind was occupied by someone else during our relationship. He always wanted to watch The Good Place while eating powdered jelly doughnuts. In hindsight, that should’ve been my indicators as to who he was thinking about.”

Y/N looks at her best friend with glassy eyes, “Really?” “Yeah, I would go along with it because it made me feel like I was hanging out with you. And I like hanging out with you too,” Amanda confesses, looking down with a smile. Y/N is touched by her soul sister’s words and pulls Amanda into a hug, “That was so sweet. You know you are more intelligent than people give you credit for and I’m sorry I don’t realize that more often.” “It’s okay. And I know I’m smart. I also know that you need someone to take care of.” Amanda kisses her friend’s forehead and they remain in each other’s grasp for the rest of the night. 

———

After seeing her for the first time in a month, Rafe didn’t know how he lived without her. What they had was so brief, yet it burned so brightly in his mind. He keeps reliving the memory of them in his mind and it makes his heartache that he doesn’t have more with her. He has to make this right with her for his sanity and his heart. He can’t relive the past; he has to find a way to make a future for them possible. This leads him to the one person in the world who will know how to fix everything. It kinda feels like an ironic full circle to him. “I know I’m probably the last person you want to see right now after I broke your heart. But I really do need your help,” he pleads to Amanda, who is in her backyard tanning. Her eyes find him through her sunglasses, “I’m more pissed off that you hurt Y/N more than anything you did to me.” “Right, right. I can understand why you feel that way. What I did to both of you was shitty,” he confirms, rubbing the back of his neck. She shrugs, “It was. I thought she was finally coming around to the idea of love and now, thanks to you, she feels like she has direct confirmation that it isn’t real.” “I’m sorry.” She scoffs, “Sorry isn’t exactly going to fix what you did.” 

“I know. I’ll do anything to get your forgiveness. And I want to show Y/N that love is really because… Because I love her.”

Amanda sits up completely at the new revelation, “You love her?” “I do. I can’t get her out of my head. I wake up and I’m thinking about her. I go to sleep and I’m thinking about her. Every moment in between I spend beating myself up for letting her go,” he rants, tearing up at the thought of this not going where he wants to go. She crosses her arms, “Well, I want you to be beating yourself up forever.” “Don’t you also want to see Y/N happy?” he counters. 

“I do. And that’s what do you want to do? Make her happy?”

“I want to make her the happiest fucking person in the world and I would give up anything in the world for that to happen.” 

“Fine, I’ll help you. If you hurt her though, I will have my father pull out of the deal with yours and absolutely take down Cameron Development. It’s my turn to be protective of her.” 

Rafe nods, “I would deserve so much more than that if I hurt Y/N. Now, how many rom-coms am I going to have to watch and do you have doughnuts for while we are watching them?” 

———

Y/N couldn’t believe she was considering doing this right now. She’s walked up and down the driveway so many times that she seriously thinks she should get on her bike and leave. The door swinging open stops her from escaping the situation. “Y/N, what are you doing here? Is everything okay?” Willard steps outside and rushes to check on his daughter. She steps back to stay away from her father’s touch. “I’m fine, Dad. Can I ask you a question?” she cuts to the chase. Willard’s head moves up and down, “Of course. Anything, Kiddo.” “Did you really love Mom?” she spews, eyes glued to her hands playing with themselves. His eyes are slightly wide as he answers, “I did. I regret lying and causing her pain, especially since it meant losing the chance to be your father.” “Why did you do it then?” she pushes further, needing all the answers as to why her father broke their family apart before they could become one. He stares at her for a second, “Life is complicated. I had an affair with your mother when my marriage was showing signs of problems. I was young and thought that running from my problems was the solution. When I found out about you, I realized I had to grow up. So I went back home, worked on my marriage, and focused on earning money to help provide for you.” 

“I was the reason why you broke Mom’s heart?” she whimpers, an awful feeling growing in her stomach at the thought of risking her mother’s love life. Willard shakes his head, “No, none of this is your fault, Kiddo. I was the idiot who broke your mother’s heart. It was never your fault, so don’t think that for even a second.” “Right. Well, thank you for answering my questions,” she states, backing away from her father with her head down low. He scrambles after his daughter, “Wait, is that all you wanted to talk about?” She falls in a standstill. “No… I was thinking that maybe we could go out together sometime. I think that I want to give our relationship a chance.” Willard grins, “Of course, I’m free right now if you want to go out for a late lunch.” “I can work with that,” she agrees.

———

Lunch with her father worked quite well and her mom was glad that it did. “I think it’s great that you are trying to have a relationship with your dad. The resentment you had for him wasn’t healthy,” Cordelia praises her daughter, bringing her into a hug. Y/N smiles at her mom, “Yeah, it was fun. Although, I still don’t think I want him paying for uni if he doesn’t have to. I want to try having a little bit of my own independence.” “I think that’s great, Baby. Remember that your father and I are always here to help you if you need it,” Cordelia assures. A knock at the door pulls them apart. “I’ll get it.” Her mother leaves her bedroom, so she flops back on her bed with a sigh. “Y/N, you have a guest,” the mother announces from downstairs. Y/N groans because she is just getting comfortable. She rolls out of bed and falls on the floor with a grunt. Her hair is a little chaotic, yet doesn’t bother to fix it. The echo of her weight jumping from stair to stair is the only one that can be heard throughout the house. “Babe, I didn’t know you were coming ov-” Y/N starts, thinking Amanda is at the door because it is the only plausible answer. She ceases once she lays a sight on who it is. “You have a lot of balls coming here,” she says with her hand coming down on her jutted-out hip. 

Rafe gives her a sheepish smile, “I know. Could we talk?” Y/N huffs, thinking about her new streak of giving people chances. She turns to her mother, who is standing near the door. “You guys probably want privacy. I really don’t want to; however, I will be going to the store to get more… eggs?” Cordelia excuses herself, taking her purse and keys to head to the store. “I’m sorry,” he breathes out now that they are alone. Her eyebrows raise, “Is that all you wanted to say?” “No, it’s just the beginning of everything I have to say. I wanted to give you a chance to back out,” he acknowledges. 

She motions with her hands for him to continue. “Lying to you so it risked your relationship with Amanda was horrible. I’m glad that you guys are still friends. It was also terrible that thing that I said about sex and potatoes. It was out of line. I’m sorry and don’t believe that it is true. Those weren’t my biggest mistakes though. My biggest mistake was telling you that we didn’t have any chemistry. Because we fucking do. We have a whole chemistry lab. Test tubs and drugs and all,” he raves. She doesn’t want to giggle, except that the comparison he made was too good not to laugh at. “You know people normally equate chemistry with sparks or fireworks,” she faults, turning her head to the side so he can’t see her amusement. He chuckles with her, “I don’t think we can be considered as normal. I’m an idiot who messes everything up half of the time and you are a stubborn girl who doesn’t believe in love.” “So you’re saying that all girls have to believe in love,” she chides. Rafe panics, “No, I didn’t mean it like that I… uh.” 

“It’s fine, stopping blubbering like a fish out of water,” she commands. His mouth closes and he scratches the back of his neck. “I see you haven’t lost your bark,” he comments. 

“If I lose my bark, then I wouldn’t be me.”

“Right, petite louves always have a bark.”

“Wolves don’t bark. They howl.”

“Okay, I think we are a little off track.”

She shuts up at his words, waiting for him to continue. Silence fills the room as Rafe gets everything off of his chest. “That’s all you want to say?” she confirms. His mouth ups and closes before he nods. “It’s my turn to talk. One. I don’t really care about the potato thing. I’m a virgin so I don’t expect to have any sort of skill in that department. Two. You are lucky Amanda forgave me or else your dick would be hammered to my bike. Three. I tried to open up to you and you lied to me. How am I supposed to trust you after that?” she tirades. Rafe hmms, “Those are all valid points. And I hope maybe you can trust me by letting me show you that I truly love you.” “You don’t love me. You just think you do. Love doesn’t exist,” she reveals. Rafe objects, “I think that you changed your mind on it and are too scared to admit that you did.” “Yeah because look where believing in love landed me. Almost losing my best friend and my heart felt like it just got crushed by an anvil,” she fires back with venom laced in her words. A crooked smile forms on his lips, “So you admit that you do love me.” “I-I… umm. That’s not wh-... um,” she babbles, trying to untie herself from the net he caught her in. 

He takes this as a chance to step closer to her, “Now, look who is the fish, Petite Louve.” He perceives the way her breath stops falling on his skin and a sense of victory finds its way through him. She stares up at him with a dumbfounded look, trying to think of a comeback. Rather than doing so, she falls victim to her own desires and pulls him down so her lips can meet his. His arms grip her waist, just above her bum to pull her closer to him. Their kiss deepens and suddenly, air isn’t something they need. A cough from the front door ends the motion of their lips. Their heads press together as they see who is there. Cordelia gives the pair a bashful smile, “Sorry, I forgot my phone.” 

They wait for her to get her phone from the kitchen. “Rafe, you are staying for dinner when I get back. I also look forward to hearing your apology to me for hurting my baby girl,” Cordelia proclaims, closing the door at the last word. Y/N steps away from him, examining the hardwood floor to gather her thoughts. “This doesn’t mean that everything is completely fine between us. You don’t get to earn my trust back with the snap of your fingers,” she discloses, toeing at the floor with the point of her foot. Rafe’s head bobs, “Definitely, I understand. It will take at least a thousand strawberry jelly doughnuts for that.” She gives him a shove, laughing through her nose. “It’s going to take a lot more than doughnuts for what you have to do,” she adds. “I know. I am prepared to give you all the jelly doughnuts in the world and so much more to help you truly believe in love.” 

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @nonbullshit-toleratingkindagirl

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe cameron x you #rafe obx #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe #rafe fic #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #rafe outer banks #rafe fluff #rafe x y/n #rafe x you #outerbanks #outer banks rafe #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks imagine #outer banks x reader #obx #obx fic #obx fanfiction #obx imagine

[probablyasocialecologist]

Hasbara is a Hebrew word defined by the Israeli government as “public diplomacy” that seeks to “influence the perception of Israel abroad.” Critics like Noam Chomsky, meanwhile, have described hasbara more bluntly as a “sophisticated system of propaganda.” On the internet, hasbara now includes a network of websites and users dedicated to manufacturing pro-Israel posts and manipulating social media platforms to remove content sympathetic to the Palestinian cause. The online Hasbara Machine is sophisticated indeed, and its existence raises an important question: why doesn’t anyone in a position of power seem to be concerned? So far, the Washington Post is one of the only prominent news outlets to touch this subject. In an eye-opening January 25 article for the paper, Taylor Lorenz describes a variety of websites and apps that “help automate pro-Israel activism online.” As it turns out, this is an understatement. One website uncovered by Lorenz, called “Project T.R.U.T.H.,” claims to generate AI “fact check” responses to posts about Israel, ready-made for the user to copy and paste online. (The acronym stands for “Timely Responses for Unbiased Transparency and Honesty.”) Two others are called “Moovers” and “Words of Iron.” On these sites, users are not only supplied with pro-Israel content to post, but encouraged to report as “hate speech” designated posts that criticize Israel or express sympathy for Palestinians. When I first read it back in January, I found Lorenz’s article incredibly disturbing. So I decided to visit a few of these websites and see for myself how they operate. What I found only increased my alarm. 

#israel #palestine #zionism #propaganda #hasbara #fake news

[roseghoul26]

Chapter 4: Your Touch Brought Forth An Incandescent Glow

Arthur Morgan x fem!Reader

Synopsis: A fic based off the song “ivy” by Taylor Swift. After a startling introduction to the man, Arthur Morgan became the most important part of your life. Married at a young age to an older, wealthy man to help your family, you were trapped in a loveless marriage, your only sense of escape with the rugged cowboy. Will you be able to keep your affair hidden, or will your husband find out, and destroy the last thing that made you happy? Tags: Fluff, Angst, Smut, Strangers To Lovers, Infidelity, Fem!Reader, She/Her Pronouns Used For Reader, Period Typical Misogyny, Emotional Manipulative Relationship (not with Arthur), Mostly Follows Timeline of Game, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Not Beta Read, Slow Burn, Tags Updated Per Chapter Author's Note: this chapter is super dialogue heavy and sets up a backstory for the reader so if this isn’t your cup of tea sorry. i need this chapter to set up the story later on lmao. also the title did use to be different if you noticed that lmao Taglist: @lokiofasgard12 @ultraporcelainpig @that-one-beannnn @morethantheycansay Chapter List

“Have you ever shot a gun?”

You stared at Arthur, shocked. That certainly wasn’t the question you’d expect him to greet you with today. You stood in the entrance of your home, a soaked Arthur Morgan standing on the other side. “Well, hello to you too, Arthur,” you laughed. “Why?”

“‘Cause-”

A crack of thunder tore through the conversation, shaking the frame of your house. “Get inside, please. Before you die right out here on my porch.” You stood back a few feet, giving Arthur plenty of room to come in. 

Water pooled on the floor as he stepped inside, the mat doing little to soak it up. “Sorry,” you heard him mumble, and you shook your head.

“Don’t worry about it.” Arthur leaned his head forward, and all the water from the rim of his hat hit the ground with a splash. “I’m goin’ to grab some towels,” you stated, backing up to the stairs. “Get yourself warm by the fire. And those boots better be off!”

Arthur said something in response, but you couldn’t hear him, already up the stairs. Grabbing an armful of towels, you quickly returned downstairs, surprised to find him still lingering in the entranceway. “Arthur? What’re you doin’?”

“I ain’t gonna stay a while-”

Another clap of thunder cut him off, like Mother Nature didn’t want to hear what he had to say. “Like hell you ain’t gonna stay a while. Have you been outside?” Arthur gestured to his currently soaked attire with a teasing grin. “Alright, stupid question, but my point still stands! It's horrible out there! At least try and wait it out a bit. Please.”

He had looked so adamant when he said he wasn’t going to be staying for a while, his face hard and determined, but it quickly softened when you asked him to wait it out, even more so when you said please. “Alright, darlin’.”

He began to undress, taking his jacket off first, hanging it up on the nearby coat rack. His hat and satchel were next, joining the coat on the rack, and he finally took his shoes off, which were covered in mud. More and more water hit the floor, the poor mat absolutely soaked through with it. 

You had set a majority of the towels on the back of the couch, but you still held one in your hands. Walking over beside Arthur, you dropped it beside him, soaking up what the mat couldn’t. “Go stand by the fire,” you instructed, feeling slightly victorious when he did. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched him pick up one of the towels, wiping down his face and hair. He didn’t sit on one of the couches, instead choosing to sit on the rug in front of the fireplace. You were about to ask why, until you noticed the way his clothing clung to his body like a second skin, absolutely soaked, leaving little to the imagination. It was a kind gesture, to not wreck your furniture with rain water, but less than proper thoughts flashed through your mind as you observed him.

Of course he had to wear a white shirt today. You could see the muscles of his broad shoulders move as he continued to dry his hair, and you could see the way the muscles tapered down his back, powerful and entrancing to watch. You were just grateful, or disappointed, you couldn’t tell, that you weren’t able to see the way his jeans clung to his lower body. 

No longer looking at him in your periphery, you tried to ignore the way your cheeks warmed as you watched him. “What’re you doing here?” You asked, hating how raspy your voice sounded. 

Arthur looked over at you, confused. “It’s been a few days, hasn’t it?”

And it had been since his last visit. Your first dinner was almost a week ago, Arthur stopping by every couple of days like he promised afterwards. You’d chat, eat dinner, pay him, and then he’d be on his way. “I mean, yes,” you made your way over to him, grabbing a towel as you did so, “but I wasn’t expecting you to come today. I’d hate for you to get sick comin’ over here, and this late in the evening. Besides,” you glanced outside, “I highly doubt anyone’s gonna willingly come outside to cause problems.”

“Well, besides me.”

You laughed. “Are you here to cause problems, Arthur?”

“Well, that depends on how you answer my question. Have you ever shot a gun?”

Shaking your head, you responded. “Can’t say I have.”

“Then you’re gonna learn today.” Arthur stood up, discarding the towel on the floor. 

“Wha- right now?”

“No better time than the present, right?”

“I think the present is an absolutely terrible time! I ain’t steppin’ foot out there.” As if to prove your point, thunder boomed, and Arthur sighed. “Why are you adamant about me learning to shoot all of a sudden?”

“Because I ain’t always gonna be around, and I couldn’t bear… I’d hate for somethin’ to happen to you. I wanna give you a way to defend yourself.”

“Oh… I see. Well,” you sat down by where Arthur had just been, “I ain’t opposed to the idea. I’m just not doin’ it right now. Let’s see if the storm’ll let up.” You patted the ground beside you. Looking up at him, you were met with the glorious sight that was Arthur in wet, tight jeans. You knew he was a large man, but it was always hard to tell when he wore loose jeans all the time. His thighs were huge, about the size of your head, and you wanted nothing more than to sit on them, to feel them beneath you. 

When he sat back down, you could finally breathe. “I would offer you some dry clothes, but I don’t think I’ve got any that’ll fit you.”

“I appreciate the offer,” Arthur chuckled, “but you’re probably right. Besides, I ain’t so stranger to wet clothes. They’ll dry soon enough.”

You handed him the towel you’d been holding, and he took it with a small nod. Another roll of thunder shuddered the house, and you instinctively felt yourself moving toward Arthur, your shoulder brushing his arm. He didn’t make any move to create distance between you two. His wet shirt was kind of uncomfortable against your skin, but you couldn’t care less.

You watched Arthur’s eyes travel over the photographs again, this time settling on one of you and your family. You could tell he was brimming with questions, but he kept his mouth shut. You stood up, but you weren’t away from him for long, grabbing the picture he was looking at and sitting back beside him, your shoulder remaking contact.

“Meet the Van Burens,” you said, handing him the framed photo, and essentially consenting to any questions he might ask.

“Are those your parents?” He asked, pointing to the two older looking folks. 

You nodded. “Raymond and Irene. Married for thirty some years.

“And the rest are…?”

“My siblings. I’m the eldest, 17 when this photo was taken. My brother, Joseph, was born a year after me,” you pointed to him in the photo. “Next was Margaret,” you pointed again. 

You went through the rest of the rest of the photo in similar fashion, reading their name and identifying them in chronological order. The twins, Ruth and Ethel, were next, followed by Edward, Henry, John, Helen, and finally Bessie. Arthur had a slight reaction to the last name, body tensing slightly, but you didn’t ask him about it. 

“And finally, Bessie. She wasn’t even a year old in this photo.” You sniffed, and you reached a hand up to your face. Hot tears were streaming down it, and a concerned Arthur was watching you. “Shit, sorry. I…. I miss them,” you explained through the tears. “I haven’t seen them since I got married.”

“Two years?” Arthur asked, shocked. You were shocked that he remembered, having only brought it up once back in Rhodes. You nodded. “You said they were up North, right?”

You nodded again. “Around Van Horn.”

“That ain’t too far, though.”

“You think if I could’ve gone to see them, I would’ve?” You laughed bitterly. “No, I ain’t allowed to.”

“He… he doesn’t let you?” 

“No. Won’t even tell me why, either. And the worse part is, I have no way of even seeing them when he’s gone. If you didn’t notice, the only way to get anywhere for me is on foot, or gettin’ picked up by a stranger.” You wiped away another tear, but another just took his place. “And besides, I have no clue if they’re still livin’ in the same house, after all the financial troubles they went through.”

“Financial troubles?”

You forgot the general public didn’t know what you did. If anyone else would’ve asked, you would’ve shut them down, but it was so easy to tell the truth to Arthur. “Yeah, my parents went bankrupt a few years back, nearly lost everything. The house, the business, everything. So, for financial security, they set up my marriage with Hans. He gets a wife, and every month they get a substantial amount of money from him.”

Arthur didn’t respond for a good amount of time, your words processing in his head. His jaw clenched and unclenched, and there was an almost dangerous glint in his usually soft eyes. “Your parents allowed this?”

“My father was the one who married us.” You whispered. You realized that you’d never told another person your situation, and you looked at him with panic on your face. “No one knows that, though.”

“I won’t say nothin’.” Arthur promised, and you relaxed. Tentatively, you felt him reach his arm around you, settling on your waist comfortingly, pulling you into a side hug.You let him pull you into him, your head resting on his shoulder. The cold wetness of the fabric felt nice against your warm cheeks, and it hid the tears quite well.

He comforted you for a bit, hand soothingly rubbing your side. It took every ounce of self-restraint to not just climb into his lap and throw your arms around him. The idea of it was very appealing, though. 

“If you got any more questions, I don’t mind answerin’ them.” You sighed. “I haven’t been able to talk about it before, so this is… therapeutic, in a way.”

“Do your folks know?”

“Know what?”

Arthur chuckled humorlessly. “That you’re absolutely miserable for ‘em?”

“I… Well, no. I wouldn’t want them to know, anyway.”

Arthur paused for a few seconds. “You’re probably one of the most selfless people I’ve met.”

You scoffed. “If this is what it feels like to be selfless, then I don’t wanna be anymore.”

“I don’t think anyone would blame you if you were selfish.”

You shook your head. “Maybe not. But every time I think I’m gonna try and do something I want, I feel so guilty. Insurmountable guilt, something I can’t just move past.”

“And… and what do you want?” It was barely noticeable, but his voice went lower.

You. “I want… I wanted to take over my family’s tobacco farm. I wanted to travel. I wanted to fall in love.” You laugh. “I ain’t so sure what I want now. Well…” you trailed off. Were you really about to confess to Arthur? “There is one thing I do want, but there’s no way I can have it.” The ring on your hand felt like fifty pounds.

He didn’t respond, just continued to rub his hand across your back and side. You took a deep breath, and even under the rain you were able to detect that distinct scent of him; gunpowder and tobacco. Your body couldn't decide if it calmed you or made your heart race faster. 

“Do you have a family, Arthur?”

“In a way, yes.”

“In a way?” You repeated, confused.

“We ain’t blood, but we sure as hell act like a family,” Arthur explained. “There a group of us, twenty-somethin’ strong. Big group of outsiders, free from the clutches of society. Men, women, even a kid. We take care of each other. You met two of ‘em already, Dutch and Bill. Dutch’s the leader of our little group. He’s… he’s somethin’ of a father to me, as much as I hate to admit it.”

“That… that sounds nice,” you admitted. 

“It has its ups and downs.”

“Do you have any photos of them?” You asked. Arthur stilled, and you regretted your question. “You don’t have to show me nonthin’ you don’t want to.”

Wordlessly, Arthur stood, first placing your family’s photo back where it was, then walking over to where his jacket was hung up, pulling something out the satchel he kept. As he sat back down next to you, you noticed he was holding a leather journal, which you honestly weren’t expecting.

“I ain’t got any photos… but I’ve got drawings.”

“Drawings?” You rested your head back on his shoulder. “Well, now I’m intrigued.”

“They ain’t anything good,” he prefaced, and he began to thumb through the pages. “Here.” Arthur tilted the journal to you, and your breath caught. On the left page was an absolutely stunning portrait of who you recognized to be Dutch, along with a paragraph of fast cursive, the same handwriting you saw on the thank you note. On the other page was a full body sketch of an older gentleman cleaning a gun, along with some sketches of a bear and a plant, which were labeled to be English Mace.

“Oh my God, Arthur,” you hovered your fingers above the drawings, following the strokes of the pencil, “these are beautiful.”

Because you were so focused on the journal in front of you, you missed the way that Arthur blushed at your praise. “You’ve already met Dutch, and the other man’s Hosea. Him and Dutch practically raised me.” His voice turned soft, like he was reminiscing.

Clearing his throat, he flipped through a couple more pages, halting when a picture of a younger man appeared. He had longer hair, about neck length, and two angry lines cut up from his jaw, covering his nose. Another angry line cut across his mouth, cutting through the shortly cut facial here. “John Marston. Grew up with him.” You noted the way his voice was short, like he was upset with the man. 

“What happened to him?” You asked, pointing to the scars.

“Wolves nearly tore him apart. Me and Javier had to go rescue him. I don’t think I’ve gotta drawin’ of him.”

“That’s alright. Just show me who you’ve got.”

Arthur flipped the page. A woman was there, sitting on a rock. Even in the drawing, you could feel the rage in her eyes. Her expression, even though it was neutral, had such a deep feeling of grief and anger beneath the surface that it almost made you uncomfortable. “Sadie Adler. Found her up in the mountains. A gang known as the O’Driscolls killed her husband, kept her alive. Her house ended up burnin’ down, so we took her with us.”

That rage in her eyes made sense then. It was surprisingly familiar, too, as it was the same anger you saw in the mirror. “Was she who you were talking about earlier?”

It took Arthur a moment to remember what you were talking about, laughter shaking his shoulders when he did. “Sure, darlin’.”

Strange answer, you thought. “Is she… is she doin’ better?” Will I be able to move on from the events in my life?

“She is. Mad as a hornet’s nest, but she’s tough. Even goes out on jobs with us. One of the best thieves in camp.”

You felt a pang in your heart, and you realized you were envious of her. You wanted the freedom she had. “I wanna meet her,” you found yourself muttering. 

Arthur chuckled. “She said the same of you.” 

You both paused. Were you that important to him that he was telling his “family” about you? “You… they know of me?”

“Well, they kept wonderin’ where I was sneakin’ off to every couple of days,” Arthur explained, clearly not meaning to reveal that. “I didn’t tell ‘em too much, if you were worried ‘bout that.”

“I don’t mind. Just tell ‘em they ain’t allowed to rob me.”

“Oh, they know,” Arthur reassured, and you watched him thumb back to near the beginning of the journal. “I made it clear that you ain’t to be messed with.”

“You make it sound like I’m some tough outlaw,” you teased. “I ain’t even shot a gun yet!”

“Yet.” Arthur reiterated, setting the journal back on his lap. A man occupied the top left corner, and the rest of the two pages were covered in a sketch of a town labeled Blackwater. 

“And you say these ain’t good…” you said, voice disbelieving. “Who’s that?” The man in the drawing had even longer hair than John, extending far beyond what was portrayed in the small drawing. A scar similar to a bolt of lightning streaked up his jaw, and another one cut through his brow.

Even though your tears had stopped, you still found yourself resting your head on the man’s shoulder. You couldn’t help the pleased sigh you let out when you felt his arm return around you, keeping you close. “That’s Charles Smith. Best hunter and tracker in camp. Nice guy, too. He joined us recently, surprised he hadn’t run off after…”

“After?”

Arthur sighed. You could tell he was debating telling you or not, but little did you know that he couldn’t say no to your questions. “After Blackwater.” Your eyes flicked to the sketch of the town. It looked peaceful enough, so why did Arthur say the name with such… disgust? Fear? Regret? You weren’t quite sure. 

“That’s out West, right?” You’d heard of Blackwater before, and you knew that Hans would probably be traveling through it on the way to Tumbleweed. You also knew that it was no stranger to crime, large ones at that. 

Arthur nodded. “It was supposed to be a simple job: rob the ferry and then get the hell outta town. ‘Course, things didn’t end up that way. Innocents were killed. We lost two of our own as well. One of ‘em was captured, too, but we got him back.” 

“What happened?”

You felt him shrug. “I ain’t gotta clue. I wasn’t on the boat when things turned bad. We had to drop everythin’ and run. Law chased us out of the state. We thought we’d lose them in the mountains, but they found us once we left. Chased us out of New Hanover, and now here. Won’t be surprised if they pick up our trail soon.”

“Will you have to leave if they do?”

“I don’t know,” Arthur answered earnestly. “I hope not.”

“Me neither.”

It didn’t feel right to speak, so neither of you did. Arthur simply pulled you closer, and his head practically rested atop yours. You swore his lips brushed the top of your head in a kiss. Rainfall filled in for your voices, the occasion clap of thunder growing softer and softer as the storm progressed. You were so at ease, probably the most relaxed you’d felt over the last two years laying against him like this. He was so warm, his soaked shirt slowly becoming dry, and the fire wasn’t helping you keep your eyes open. Tiredness washed over you, which wasn’t too unexpected because it was already nighttime. You yawmend, and you felt Arthur chuckle. “Go ‘head and rest your eyes, darlin’. I’ll be here.”

You hadn’t even realized you’d fallen asleep until you woke up in your bed the next morning. Sitting up, startled, you saw that you were still in your clothes, simply being placed under the covers. Glancing around, you saw a small piece of paper, presumably ripped from the journal Arthur had shown you yesterday. Grabbing it, you cleared sleep from your eyes, and it took a few moments for the words to become understandable. 

Next time you’ll learn to use the gun. Have a good couple of days, darling.

There was something written below it, but it was heavily scratched out, and you weren’t able to make any of it out. 

Smiling, you leaned back down on the bed, clutching the note to your chest. A small laugh left you, pure happiness radiating from you. It was insane that this man could get you like this just from a small note. 

That giddiness was instantly replaced with dread when you imagined how Hans would react if you were to see the note. You’re not sure what would freak him out more; you using a gun or the fact that Arthur called you darling. 

Getting out of bed, you grabbed the lockbox hidden beneath, opening at setting on the bed. There were still some bills left, but there was plenty of room to set the note in. It was then you remembered that you hadn’t paid Arthur at all. Next time he came over, you’d give it to him. Remembering the other note you had from him, you quickly grabbed it, setting it in the lockbox as well. With one final glance, you closed it, tucking back into its original spot. 

You got ready that day with a grin on your face. 

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

The next couple of days were filled with menial tasks and garden visits. You wished you had a book, cards, something to pass the time that wasn’t laborious tasks. The lower floor had never looked so clean, though, so there was that. 

It had been two days since Arthur had carried you up to your bed, and he would be coming over any day now. Even if there wasn’t anything romantic between you two, you loved having him over, getting close with the outlaw. Your loneliness had never been so far away. 

There was a light knock on the door, and you heard your name being called from the other side of the door. You set aside the stitching you were doing, your hands shaking slightly and a smile growing on your face.

“Hello, Arthur.” You greeted the man as you opened the door. 

Arthur was resting his hands on his belt, a warm smile on his face that had you melting. “Hello, darlin’. You ready?”

You stared at him blankly, completely forgetting what he had planned for you for a moment. “As I’ll ever be,” you sighed, getting your shoes on. “You sure this is a good idea?”

“Are you doubtin’ me?” Arthur joked, extending a hand to you once your shoes were on. “I promise you won’t get hurt.”

You snorted, taking his hand. “I ain’t afraid of getting myself hurt. I’m more afraid of what I might do to you.”

Arthur led you out of the house, continuing to hold your hand even after helping you down the stairs. He only laughed at your words, shaking his head as he did. He led you away from the house, away from his horse tied to the same tree as before, into the woods near where your garden was. A large tree stump was there, and about ten bottles that Arthur put out littered the top. Your hands were now no longer shaking from excitement over seeing Arthur. Instead, anxiety over firing a weapon caused them to shake, and you hoped he couldn’t feel it.

He let go of your hand, and he unholstered his weapon, holding it towards you by the barrel. “First rule,” he said when your hand rested on the grip. “Keep your finger off the trigger until you’re ready to fire. Nothin’s worse than a misfire.”

You nodded, fully grabbing it in your hand. He let go of it, and you weren’t expecting how heavy the revolver actually was. It wasn’t unbuildable, no, but it definitely had a weight to it that would hurt your wrists after a while. “Second rule. Only aim it at folks that need hurtin’.”

“Do you follow these rules, Arthur?”

He hesitated. “No. But you should. You don’t wanna end up like me.”

He moved around you, so that his chest was barely brushing your back. You felt his fingers brush the underside of your arm, signaling for you to raise your arm. It shook slightly as you raised the weapon, but no longer because of nerves. 

“Bring your other hand up like this,” he moved so that you could see what he was doing, and you copied the action, wrapping both hands around the gun. “Got more stability like that,” he explained, moving back behind you. “Make sure to keep your arms all the way out. And spread your legs a bit.” 

Doing as he asked, you heard him hum approvingly, low and right next to your ear. You had to suppress a shiver. “You see those two iron bits stickin’ up at the end of the barrel? You're gonna want your target in between ‘em. When you’re ready, you’re gonna pull the hammer back,” he tapped it with his finger. “Then squeeze the trigger. Just… brace yourself.”

Taking a deep breath and trying to ignore the way his hands rested on your shoulders, you pulled the hammer back with your thumb. The stretch was uncomfortable, and it took a few tries before your finger eventually caught it. 

Click. 

“Very good,” Arthur praised almost nonchalantly. “Whenever you’re ready, darlin’.”

Bang!

The birds, which had been peacefully minding their own business, scattered out the trees, cries of warning leaving them. Your ears rang, mainly because of the gunshot, but also because of the continued words of praise spilling from Arthur’s lips. You were nowhere close to hitting the bottle, hitting the stump below them, but you were still proud of yourself for hitting something that wasn’t alive. 

Exhaling shakily, you lowered the weapon. The recoil was worse than you expected, and you could already feel that your wrists were going to be hurting later. “Both of us are still alive, right?”

Arthur laughed behind you, and you could feel the way his chest shook. “Very much so. You did good.” 

“Thank you,” you replied breathlessly. “Does it always take that long?”

“Whaddya mean?”

“This,” you gestured to the revolver. “Feels like it took an hour before I shot.” Turning to him, you followed the same way Arthur handed the gun to you, you grabbed the barrel, presenting the grip to him. “Show me.”

Cautiously, he took it from you. “What?”

“I wanna see you shoot.” When he didn’t move, you deflated a bit. “Please?”

Arthur sighed, but you saw a small smile tug at his lips. “Fine. Here, move back.”

Moving so you were behind the man, you waited with bated breath. Only Arthur’s eyes moved, flicking across each target with speed, like he was pinpointing exactly where they were. The revolver hung loosely in his hand, an air of casualness about it, like the gun was just an extension of his arm.

Four shots rang out, faster than you expected, and you watched four of the bottles shatter. The whole action couldn't have been longer than two seconds, and if you had blinked, you would’ve missed it. He aimed the gun still with one hand, the smoke of the barrel intertwining with his arm. 

“Oh my God,” you whispered. “That was…” Hot. “Incredible.” He didn’t respond, but you watched as he twirled the gun around his finger before holstering it. “Alright, now you’re just showin’ off.” You laughed, returning to Arthur’s side. 

“Hey, you asked,” Arthur defended.

You rolled your eyes. “Alght, before I go inflatin’ your ego more, can I try again?”

He handed you the gun, and you found that you weren’t as nervous as the first time. “There’s one round left. I’ll show you how to reload it once we’re done.”

Nodding, you returned to the position he showed you, and even though you didn’t need his support, you felt his hands brace your shoulders. The warmth of his hands were distracting, and you quite literally had to shake yourself out of it.

Bang! 

You were starting to get used to the noise it made, your ears not ringing as badly as they were before. This shot still didn’t hit a bottle, but it hit the stump right next to one. You’d take that. 

“Look at you.” His face was right next to your ear, low timbre shaking you to your very core. God, his voice should not be doing these things to you. “You’ll be hittin’ those in no time.”

“You think?” You didn’t dare turn your head towards him, knowing it would then be inches away from his own. You don’t think you could stop yourself from kissing him then, guilt be damned. 

Arthur nodded, and you could cut the tension between the two of you with a knife. He breathed deep, like he was trying to calm himself. “C’mon, lemme show you how to reload the thing.” Stepping away from you, what should’ve been a warm breeze felt freezing against your skin, no longer feeling the warmth of his body. Turning, you saw Arthur begin to head back the way you came. You were able to sneak your hand in his before he moved too far away, walking along beside him.

A bit shocked, Arthur glanced at you, looking down at your intertwined hands, but he made no move to separate them. Instead, he smiled gently, and he brought your knuckles up to his lips, kissing them gently. With the gun in your other hand, the two of you walked back, not saying a word. It’s not like you would’ve been able to hear him anyways because of how loudly your heart was beating in your ears. 

Arthur’s horse’s ears perked up when he noticed your arrival, but otherwise seemed undisturbed, the recent loud noise seemingly not bothering him. It made you wonder how used to gunshots the creature was. 

Arthur led you to the horse, and he sniffed curiously at you. You couldn’t help the slight flinch, not used to being around horses. “He won’t hurt ya,” Arthur reassured, pulling his hand away to grab something from the saddlebags. “He acts like he’s tough, but he’s a real softie.”

“Sounds like his owner,” you teased, and you heard Arthur scoff. You reached out a hand for him to smell, and you watched him meet you halfway. His nose was wet, and you felt him nibble at your fingers, making you laugh. Moving your hand away from his nose you trailed it down his neck, petting gently. “You not all that mean, ain’t you? You just need some love,” you cooed at the horse. “You’re a good boy, ain’t you?” You pet his neck a few more times. “What’s his name, Arthur?”

You didn’t get a response, so you turned your attention toward the man, stilling your petting. “Arthur?” He was facing towards you, something in his hands, but he had stilled, completely silent.

He cleared his throat, and you swore you saw the beginnings of a blush form on his cheeks. “Sorry,” he rubbed at his neck. “His name’s Bear.”

You didn’t think much of his behavior, moving your attention back to Bear. “Bear?” The horse responded immediately, acknowledgment flashing in his eyes. “Ain’t you a good boy, Bear. Oh, yes you are.” You spoke like you would to a dog. 

Eventually, you moved away from Bear, and you saw him follow you with his head. “Sorry,” you apologized to Arthur, having forgotten what he’d brought you over to do.

Arthur shook his head, smiling and laughing. Yeah, he had definitely been blushing, his ears still tinted pink. “Are you done spoilin’ my horse?” 

“For now.” You stepped closer to Arthur, handing him the gun. “What does he like to eat?”

“Bear?” Arthur shrugged. “Most things really. Grass, hay, apples, carrots. He loves peppermints, though. Goes crazy for ‘em. Why?”

“No particular reason.” You tried to be nonchalant, like you weren’t totally planning on buying some the next time you were in town.

“You tryin’ to steal my horse from me?” Arthur asked, setting what you saw to now be ammunition in his hands on the saddle, taking a step towards you, making you tilt your head back farther to look at him. 

You stuck your chin out defiantly. “Maybe.”

“I don’t much appreciate that, darlin’.” You knew he was teasing you, but his voice had dropped dangerously low, and in any other context would’ve sounded threatening. He was so close now, holstering the gun back on his belt, and you felt your confidence falter as he stared you down. 

“What’re gonna do about it, then?” It came out as a whisper, but at least it wasn’t shaky. You maintained eye contact, even when he moved closer, his chest bumping into yours. One of his hands slowly held the side of your face, like he had done when he wiped the dirt from your cheek. His other hand locked on your waist, tugging you impossibly close, and you sucked in a breath. 

Those beautiful blue eyes danced over your face, settling on your lips, an unspoken question spoken. You nodded, the movement barely noticeable, but you didn’t trust your voice. His thumb brushed the apple of your cheek, and he tiled your head back a bit more. Arthur leaned forward, and you felt his hat brush against your head, knocking it back slightly, but it didn’t deter him. 

His lips almost brushed against yours, and you could feel the air leave him as he almost closed the gap, until a loud calling of his name had him snapping his head up. His hat nearly tumbled off his head, and he caught it using the hand once caressing your face. The voice was familiar, but you couldn’t see who it came from, the form of Bear blocking the speaker.

Once the initial shock wore off, you could practically feel the annoyance and anger from Arthur. “What?” He growled out, and you were thankful that his head was turned so that he wouldn’t see the way your cheeks flushed. 

“Where are you, son?” 

You recognized the voice now: Dutch. Why he was here, you had no idea. Exasperated, Arthur looked at you, an apology on his tongue. You silenced him with a kiss on his cheek, his beard tickling your lips when you made contact. His hand tightened where it still held on at your hips, and felt him sigh, both pleased and irritated. Leaning your head back, you answered for him. “He’s by the house.”

Arthur let go of you now, taking a step back and creating an appropriate amount of room between the two of you. “Good evening, Mrs. Kerrigan,” you heard Dutch respond, and you and Arthur stepped from around the horse and walked to the front porch. 

Dutch came riding into your homestead on a beautiful white horse, and another man followed behind him, hat over his face, so you couldn’t get a glimpse of his features. “Good evening, Dutch. Is there something you need?”

“We need to talk to you,” Dutch responded, and you blinked back, confused. You glanced at Arthur, and he just sighed. You could tell he was still frustrated, though, because he practically glared at the other men as they got off their horses. 

“Me? You sure you don’t mean Arthur?”

“Both of you,” the stranger responded, taking off his hat and keeping it with his horse. He was an older gentleman, probably in his mid-fifties. As he turned to you, you recognized him instantly from one of the drawings: Hosea.

“This here’s Hosea,” Dutch made his way over to you and Arthur, Hosea following closely behind. “You see, me and him have a proposition for you, Mrs. Kerrigan. And Arthur, I suppose.”

“Okay.” You drew out the word. “What is it?”

“It involves your husband,” Hosea chimed in. “We’d like your help.”

“And I’m glad to provide it, if you tell me what’s goin’ on.”

“Mrs. Kerrigan, are you aware that your husband is runnin’ a moonshine business?”

Author's Note:  i swear they’ll kiss eventually don’t kill me

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader

[otipe]

Al-Haitham x Deaf Fem!Reader

University AU

[Part 1] [Part 2]

[Silence could be overcomed by gentle gestures and shy gazes; but only the strong one go beyond for a voice that has been lost to reach the ears of their beloved.]

— x — x — x — x — x — x — x — x —

You fall in love with Al-Haitham throughout the winter season.

The great growth of love and timidness when having him around increased the more you two spend time together—and the moment where you realized that what you felt for him went deeper than simple friendship was unknown, but it didn't lessen the impact upon the fact that it was real.

The revelation from such an affair surprises you once you go past the confusion and denial from falling in love with a man who keeps his heart locked away and under a mask of nonchalant. The fleeting thought that you were just confused was viable, since you’ve never felt this way prior, and so you tried to convince yourself to drop the subject and to not think about your friend that way anymore.

But when the little veil of deception that you placed upon yourself vanishes, slapping you across the face that yes, you were in love, it takes no time for the butterflies to swarm in your belly whenever you look his way or his name is mentioned through conversations.

To notice the sudden race of your heart when you are alone, when he helps you when you’re unable to focus, to the way he cares for your well-being in subtle yet obvious acts of kindness; all of it was the beginning of your doom.

Because despite forging a friendship throughout the times at the university, in light of recent news of your newfound love, your actions are led with shyness instead of confidence. Your demeanor changes when he is in the vicinity, and you can’t help the assaults your heart does when he looks at you so intensely or simply focuses on your being.

And that places you here in the library.

Al-Haitham is keeping himself busy with his books and Kaveh…

Kaveh acts like he’s none the wiser when you need him as a backup when interacting with Al-Haitham; ignoring your pleading gazes, fixing his shirt when you tug on the fabric, and even biting back a grimace when you squeeze his arm to catch his attention. 

But everytime the bastard simply looks the other way with a pout, pretending that you both don't exist at the moment, and focuses on his papers instead of lending a helping hand.

A little nudge on your shoulder has your attention drifting towards Al-haitham, who raises a brow in questioning.

“What is it?” you sign, fingers trembling slightly. 

“What do you need from him?” he asks. His hand movements are choppy and a bit aggressive, “I can help you.”

Your cheeks warm with embarrassment, fearful that he's witnessed your childish nagging at Kaveh. Shaking your head, you tap the notebook.

“Tomorrow we have a test. I want to make sure he's ready, that's all.”

“Are you sure?”

You give him a thumbs up, smiling, “I'll be okay! I've been tutored by the best student on campus, so I have nothing to fear!”

Al-Haitham seems satisfied with your reply, the shadow of a smile hovers over his lips before he schools his face back to his usual stoic expression and goes back to his book. His eyes skim through the paragraphs and quickly jolts things down he deems important in his own notebook. 

You eye the stack of books he has next to him, two of them open and tossed to the side and the one he currently holds, keeping all his attention.

Idly, you think literature looks difficult; boring, even. 

Reading books is not of your preference, unless romance and tragedy are the main topic, your interest regarding lectures are non-existent so you are easily amazed by his focus and full concentration on what he reads whatever the topic might be.

A vibration catches your attention, watching a notification pop-up in your phone that lays next to you on the table. Picking it up, Kaveh's name shows on the screen with an incomplete message that has you blushing on the spot.

Gingerly, you open the chat.

× Kaveh: You look like a creep staring at him ಠ⁠_⁠ಠ

× Me: I'm not staring! 

× Kaveh: Yeah, sure- Even the librarian has noticed the hearts around you whenever he signs to you.

× Me: Shut up ;_;

Covering half of your face you glare at Kaveh, pouting at his teasing. He only gets to shrug and mouth an apology that’s not genuine with the smirk plastered across his face. 

× Kaveh: :P 

× Me: You are so mean for no reason :( 

× Kaveh: I'm only stating facts. If you want it a secret, then KEEP it like a secret.

× Me: Stop paying attention to what I do! I know how to keep a secret!

× Kaveh: Yeah? Your eyes don't! ╰⁠(⁠ ⁠･⁠ ⁠ᗜ⁠ ⁠･⁠ ⁠)⁠➝

Kaveh is insufferable when he teases, pulling you out of your tasks and bothering you until you give out and have to physically make him shut up.

Since he is in close vicinity, you slap his arm lightly, signing furiously for him to stop annoying you so much and to pay attention to his homework and study.

His eyes roam your hands, trying to piece together what you say but unable to tie the words and hand signs to coherent sentences. Is clear from his confused expression he hasn't gotten half of what you said, and now he wears an apologetic smile that tells you everything.

“She said to stop fooling around, and keep your head in your studies, dunce.” Al-Haitham closes his book, clearly annoyed. “Don't bother her too much, Kaveh. She's got enough on her plate.”

Kaveh gasps, offended, “I'm not bothering her, am I?”

“Lower your voice,” he reprimands, “You are being annoying.”

They go back and forth for a while, and you cannot help but look bewildered between the two of them, confused and intrigued by whatever they're talking about. 

Their mouths move too fast for you to interpret words into sentences, too fired up in their conversation—or argument, this looks like an argument—that they don't notice your curious stare.

Al-Haitham seems to mull over a thought, pondering whether to say what's on his mind or not. It seems to take a toll on him, sighing tiredly and briefly looking in your direction.

“She's clearly trying to study, and as her partner, shouldn't you try and help her out instead of fooling around?” 

Kaveh raises a brow, confused at his choice of words. 

“I’m a very good partner!” Is what he says a little too loudly. The librarian shushes him from across the room, glaring at their table and scowling, a finger on her lips. Kaveh bows his head in apology before continuing in a lower voice, “And I'm very helpful when I want to, thank you very much. You can even ask her, I’m a sweetheart.”

Kaveh notices the shift in attitude from Al-Haitham for a brief second, enough to surprise him when his scowls deepens and avoids eye contact to focus on the books on the table. He’s almost tempted to ask if his actions were what got to his nerves, but with the way he moves, uncomfortable and wary, he decides against it.

It becomes obvious something is going on when he starts packing his things without saying a word, closing the books and stashing them on his backpack slowly but with force behind every action. 

A little taken aback by his sudden urge to leave the library, you stand up from your chair and begin closing your notebooks alongside him in a hurry. 

None of them say anything while watching you pack up, eyes concentrated and precise actions to have your things in order. Kaveh purses his lips in contemplation and eyes Haitham stop dead on his tracks, regret flashing for a brief second on his face, but he doesn’t miss the fondness swimming in his green orbs.

“You don’t have to leave.” His expression softens ever so slightly, and he reaches for your wrist to catch your attention, “Stay.” He mouths slowly.

“Why?”

His eyes divert from you to Kaveh who looks at him with concern filled in his eyes, and he can’t help but sigh, scratching the back of his neck and unable to reason clearly. Taking his hand in yours, you tug slightly, getting his attention back to you.

“Don’t you want us here?” You ask. 

“I have to leave,” he signs, “I forgot I have a study session today.”

Shaking your head, you tap your wrist, “There’s still two hours away from your meeting time.” Al-Haitham doesn’t flinch when your expression sours, “Why are you lying to me?”

“I'm not lying, the session time has moved.”

Liar. And the fact he's doing so right to your face with no shame is worrisome for he's never had a reason to.

Al-Haitham continues packing his things in silence under your scrutinized gaze. When you realize he won't say anything else to you nor Kaveh, you take a seat and watch him leave with a quick goodbye.

You are left staring at the closing doors of the library and with an emptiness at the pit of your stomach. Slowly crawling your insides, anxiety takes over your thoughts in quick succession about his actions and lack of communication with you two. 

Was he upset over something? Did Kaveh say something? Did Al-Haitham say something? Are you at fault here?

You type in your phone before you can think further.

× Me: Did you two argue?

× Kaveh: No! He was scolding me for distracting you when it was the other way around >_> You get way too desperate when he talks to you.

You glare at him from the corner of your eyes, ignoring his last sentence.

× Me: But why did he leave? 

× Kaveh: I don't know, maybe he just got upset over me being too loud? I'll talk to him later when he comes home, don't mind him. He always acts like a drama queen.

× Me: Are you sure? 

Kaveh mulls over your question quietly. 

Al-Haitham is one to never hold a grudge when they argue, but rather take his time to calm down before sitting down and talk like civilized people. And Kaveh would have assumed this was the case if it weren't for the uncommon timing to his reactions, which raises the question: What made him this upset?

× Kaveh: I'll talk to him later, don't worry :) 

× Me: Okay, let me know if you both need anything! I don't like it when you two fight :(

Kaveh clutches the phone close to his heart and squeals loudly, fighting against his instincts to smother you in a big hug for how kind you were to him despite the clear favoritism you had for the one you crushed on.

From afar, you see the librarian standing from her seat, angry lines forming on her expression and marching towards you two with a determination that scares you deeply, freezing you on the spot.

You can't even warn your friend before she reaches him first.

“Kaveh, that's enough! Out of the library until you learn how to keep quiet!”

“What?!” 

“Banned for a week! Out with you!”

— x — x  — x — x — x — x  — x — x — x — x  — x —

Kaveh's expression at having the door of the library close shut on his face shouldn't be this amusing; but here you are, laughing with all your might and holding onto the wall for support because you can't hold back anymore after the last tense couple of minutes.

He's saying something, probably angry words at the ban and you for making fun of him, but you could care less with how much your stomach was hurting from the laughing.

“Stop!” he whines, tugging your sleeves with a pout on his face. “This is not funny!”

Cleaning the tears gathering at the corner of your eyes, you apologize between giggles, fingertips down the bridge of your nose and an open palm running a straight line down your chest.

“You are mean,” he mouths slowly, pulling you alongside him onto the halls of the university to walk away. 

“Sorry,” you sign again, not genuine enough for him to believe you. “I think we both need a break. How about we go for dessert?”

Kaveh blinks down confused, “I understood the break, the last thing I didn’t get.” 

“D. E. S. S. E. R. T,” you spell each letter slowly. He nods in understanding.

“Oh, yes!” He perks up excitedly, “Oh, oh! We can go to that coffee shop you were talking about yesterday. The one a few blocks away, yeah?” 

Happy at the prospect of some sweet dessert and a relaxing afternoon, Kaveh walks with new vigor and a goal in mind with you in tow, forgetting completely about his public humiliation and entertained like a little kid with a treat.

He holds your hand, smiling brightly back at you, and you return the grin with the same feeling of content filling your chest.

But even when you've settled down at the coffee shop; drinking milkshakes and eating cheesecakes between laughs and messaging each other, at the back of your head was the lie of Al-Haitham still present and bothering.

And perhaps it was selfish of you to have him roaming your mind when Kaveh is trying to lift your spirits and cheer you up to the best of his abilities, when it should be the other way round. 

And he notices. When he looks you from the corner of his eyes and his fingers hovers above the keyboard from his phone, you cannot help the embarrassed blush and hesitation whether to bring up the topic or not.

× Kaveh: Okay, I can't do this anymore. Spill.

× Me: …

× Me: What do you mean?

× Kaveh: >_> Don't play dumb. 

× Me: (⁠｡⁠•́⁠︿⁠•̀⁠｡⁠)

× Kaveh: That's adorable, I'm stealing it.

× Kaveh: Okay, girl, spill now or else.

× Me: Is just… I'm worried. Al-Haitham was acting very strange, and I believe we're missing something crucial that caused his distress.

× Kaveh: I think you're overthinking way too much, dear. Perhaps it might be your love for him talking.

The punch you throw at him doesn't hurt, he knows that, and yet, he feigns dramatically that you've broken all the bones on his arm. 

× Me: You're so annoying!!! Stop!!

× Kaveh: :P 

× Me: I just want to make sure we're okay. I don’t know why he lied :( 

× Kaveh: How about this; I'll talk to him later today and let you know how it goes. If he is upset or anything, I can solve the problem easily.

You nod, extending your arm on top of the table to reach for his hand. Kaveh doesn't take long to grab your hand and smile soothingly.

“Everything will be okay,” he says slowly. “Now that I think about it…”

You don't catch the last thing he says, watching him go back to his phone and type quickly with a determined expression.

× Kaveh: Okay so I've been thinking…

× Me: Rare occasion.

× Kaveh: Shut up! Look, I've been thinking that it would be a good idea for you to ask Al-Haitham on a date. 

× Me: Huh? No? 

× Kaveh: You should try asking him before he goes back to Sumeru on the spring break.

× Kaveh: I've heard he's reuniting with some old friend of his and, you know how it goes, maybe a childhood love might bloom.

× Me: :((((((

× Kaveh: Okay, sorry, maybe not that. But I do think you should try to ask him out, if only to give yourself a chance.

× Me: I don't want to ruin things between us. I like our friendship, and would love to keep it instead of jeopardizing it.

× Kaveh: That's such a big word for you! 

× Me: Kaveeeehhhhhhh :((((((

× Kaveh: Okay! Sorry! But think about it if you can. I'd love for my friends to date each other :( And I believe he won't say no. No one would be able to resist such a cutie like you (⁠ ⁠˘⁠ ⁠³⁠˘⁠)⁠♥

Oh, this man.

Whilst it is a wistful wish to date the one you fell in love with, his feelings on the matter is what makes you hesitate. This is not the first time you've thought about it, and won't be the last until you gather the courage to confess.

And Al-Haitham won't hate you if you say what you really feel, nor will he stop being your friend; but the lingering feeling of rejection will always be present and mocking you whenever you see him. 

Archons know how long it will take for you to heal from the whole ordeal if he really says no.

× Me: I'll think about it (⁠・⁠∀⁠・⁠)

× Kaveh: I'm going to pretend to believe you. BUT just know if he breaks your heart, I'll kick his ass into the stratosphere (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧ And that's a threat.

You giggle behind your hand, eyes filled with mirth and joy from his encouragement. Kaveh feels like he has accomplished something good today if your happiness is anything to go by. 

× Kaveh: Let's go home, it's getting a little late. I'll walk you back to the dorms (⁠づ⁠￣⁠ ⁠³⁠￣⁠)⁠づ

True to his words, he keeps you company the way back with both your hands clasped together the entire time. He would sometimes twirl you around to get you to laugh, sometimes would lay his arm around your shoulders to squeeze you affectionately when crossing the road; Kaveh keeps his touch present and as a supporting weight when you reach the building and kiss his cheek goodnight.

He waves back at you before you close the door, leaving him alone with his own worries and thoughts swirling in his mind.

The trek back home wasn't far, and it gave him plenty of time to think about his course of action before sitting down with Al-Haitham and talk about whatever happened earlier that day.

And if both are in the mood to keep the conversation going, he will try and prod information from him about his thoughts about you.

Perhaps he can be the cupid between you two?

‘I just want her to be happy,’ is what he thinks, sighing tiredly. 

Anything for you.

— x — x  — x — x — x — x  — x — x — x — x  — x —

Kaveh calls you a few days later. 

The vibration from your phone isn't enough to wake you up, sleeping right past it until midday when you realize you've slept way too long and have wasted precious hours of the day.

It takes a while for you to read your notifications and bark a laugh at Kaveh's multiple apologies for calling you when he knows you cannot hear. 

It doesn't offend you in the slightest, rather you find it hilarious because his enthusiasm knows no bonds to have forgotten something so obvious. 

× Me: Miraculously I can hear again! What is it? Let me hear your voice! 

It doesn't take long to see him online and typing already. You can even imagine the worried frown between his eyebrows and his pout in nervousness before he sends a message.

× Kaveh: In my defense!!!!!!!! Nothing…

× Kaveh: I'm dumb, I'm sorry. 

× Me: It was a silly mistake. If anything, I find it rather amusing.

× Kaveh: This is not for you to be making fun of me!

× Me: Why not? I think it's hilarious.

× Kaveh: ༼⁠;⁠´⁠༎ຶ⁠ ⁠۝ ⁠༎ຶ⁠༽

× Me: What the fuck is that.

× Kaveh: Oh so now is not funny anymore HUH

× Me: Kaveh that’s the most disgusting kaomoji you’ve ever sent. I’m sending you to prison.

× Kaveh: You're just jealous you'll never be him.

× Me: THANK GOD

× Kaveh: Ksdksngkdf ANYWAY!! Listen, I talked to Al-Haitham and we're good. He was annoyed I was being too loud and rather leave than start an argument with so many people around.

× Kaveh: You know how he is, a calm person and all. He's okay, I'm okay, and no, he's not mad at you. 

× Kaveh: Sooooo, want to come and grab dinner later? We can order take-out and maaaaaybeeeee, just maaaaaybe help me study for my next test (⁠๑⁠´⁠•⁠.̫⁠ ⁠•⁠ ⁠`⁠๑⁠)

Tempting, you think.

It's almost time for lunch, and you’ve spent most of your day sleeping away rather than being productive with the short time you have between classes, studies and exams. If you were to finish your duties before five and take a shower around six, you might be able to get there by seven or around that time to have dinner with them. 

Make lunch, clean the bathroom, wash your clothes and hang them to dry, clean your room a little bit. Humming to yourself, you think you might be able to make it on time and spend the night at their apartment without a hitch. 

× Me: Okay, I see no problems :) I'll be there by 7. Is it okay if I crash to sleep there?

× Kaveh: OH MY GOD YOU ARE AN ANGEL, AND YES OFC!! We can have a slumber party after studying. I literally cannot study alone because I get easily distracted and Al-Haitham doesn't want to help me (⁠ ⁠；⁠∀⁠；⁠)

× Me: Kaveh… you never want to listen to him. 

× Kaveh: That's because he's boring! That man isn't build for teaching ಠ⁠∀⁠ಠ

× Me: Try to keep yourself alive by the time I come, okay? Study as best as you can and I'll help out with the rest. 

× Kaveh: You're a real lifesaver! Let me know when you are on your way and send your location to keep track of you, alright? 

× Me: Okay! Don’t forget to eat lunch :)

And that's how you have your day booked.

To know both Kaveh and Al-Haitham were okay with each other was enough to feel relief wash throughout your entire system, as if a weight has been lifted off your shoulders and now you can easily breath without guilt nagging you. Despite the question mark as to why he opted to lie back then, you were happy to overlook it and focus on the good outcome.

Your day goes by with you running this way to the other to get things done and ready before you leave. There is the lingering thought of your conversation with Kaveh from a few days ago while you finish your tasks, entertaining the idea and even considering it with how joyful you were feeling.

You only hope that motivation stays until you arrive at their home.

Once on the streets, with your bag full of books and a change of clothes, you let Kaveh know you are on your way but don't receive an immediate reply.

Not even when you reach the apartment complex, greet the receptionist and take the elevator, there is no sign of your friend and you wonder if something bad has happened for him to ignore you completely.

You decide to message Al-Haitham instead, despite the butterflies roaming your entire being and warmness spreading on your cheeks.

× Me: Hey, is Kaveh okay? I sent him a message before coming but he hasn't answered yet :(

It doesn’t take long for him to reply.

× Al-Haitham: Hey, door is open. 

The reply is ominous without the intention to be. 

You open the door bracing for the worst.

The books scattered on his dinner table should have been enough to disperse any doubt of a catastrophe. Mouth slightly agape and surprised to see the desperation on Kaveh's face when he realizes you’ve arrived, and sure enough, the calamity seems to be himself with how exhausted he looks.

“Help,” he signs, and you can't help but laugh after a long pause. From all the words you've taught him, that one stuck to him like a life liner.

Nodding, you clean up the table and stack the books to the side to make room for you. Kaveh helps bring some books to the sofa, giving you enough space to open your notebooks and notes to start revising what he hasn't checked yet.

A buzz from the phone startles you, picking it up to see a message from Kaveh.

× Kaveh: What do you want to eat? I'll order now so we can focus ←⁠(⁠>⁠▽⁠<⁠)⁠ﾉ

× Me: Hmmm, do you want Japanese food? I've been craving katsudon lately. 

× Kaveh: Oh, yeah sure! I'll order ramen then. Let me ask stinky ass man what he wants and we're ready to go.

× Me: Don’t call him that >:(

× Kaveh: :P 

Kaveh leans back and yells down the hallway, “Hey, Haitham! Wanna eat ramen, or sushi? I don't know whatcha want. We’re going to order from Wangmins.” 

Al-Haitham's head pops out of his room, frowning deeply and seemingly annoyed. 

“I can hear you just fine, no need for yelling.” he walks out, shaking his head. “I don't want anything, thank you.”

You perk up when he waves at you, returning the greeting with a little more eagerness than you anticipate. But he seems to not mind, the shadow of a smile gently hovering over his lips and a nod of his head is enough to have you kicking your feet in excitement. 

Nudging Kaveh's arm, you point at your friend's clothes, curiosity filling your eyes when he walks past the dinner table and straight to the mirror. 

‘He looks rather handsome today.’ your eyes follow him from head to toe, blushing for ogling so shamelessly.

Kaveh whistles loudly, noticing Al-Haitham's fit. He seems to have dressed more elegantly than ever, brushing his hair in front of the mirror next to the door and smelling his cologne swift in the air and heavy on the nose.

“You look way too fancy today, what's the occasion?” he asks absently.

“I'm going out with Nilou.”

Kaveh freezes upon his words, blinking slowly and eyes going from where you're sitting to Al-Haitham, unaware of the shift in mood. You nudge him quietly, awaiting for a response to fulfill your curiosity.

“A date.” he spells, and he regrets doing so when he notices your expression break slightly. 

Oh.

“Man, that's um…that's new.” Kaveh scratches the back of his neck, surprised by the news. “Didn't know you were interested in that.”

Al-Haitham shrugs nonchalantly, checking his phone every few seconds and fixing the collar of his turtleneck, “She asked me, and I said yes. What's so weird about that?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing! Just never expected it from you…” He coughs awkwardly, not knowing how to continue the conversation, “What time are you coming home?”

“I don't know, probably late. Don't wait for me.” Grabbing his keys and the wallet from the table, he bids goodbye over his shoulder before closing the door behind him with an echoing thud.

For a couple of minutes, he doesn’t say anything in fear of breaking the dreaded atmosphere Al-Haitham has left behind in the awakening of the news of his date. 

Kaveh is fiddling with his pen nervously, unable to look you in the eyes because he knows the expression he’s wearing is neither pleasant nor helpful to the situation. Because just like you, he lingers in this limbo of uncertainty that he can’t seem to comprehend.

He idly wonders if he should have said anything at all. This outcome is not one he predicted nor thought possible in his wildest imagination; and the fact that you're now hurt because of his words and encouragement is making things worse for him.

The fault doesn’t fall on either of you, and Kaveh is aware you won’t hold this against him because feelings are out of anyone's control

And at the end, even if heartbreak is disheartening and ignites horrible emotions from within your soul, it is better to know it now than later.

Losing a battle that has never begun hurts more than you’ve ever thought.

When the first sobs go past your sealed lips, Kaveh's resolve breaks at once.

There is not a second of hesitation from him when he tosses his things to the side to cradle you between his arms and you latch onto him as your anchor.

The reciprocation serves to let him know this was the right action to take, losing stabilization that makes both of you slide down to the floor clumsily, but still in each other's arms.

Kaveh tries to fix you on his lap to let you rest comfortably, hand running down your back in soothing motions while you cry quietly against his chest.

It goes on for a long time, but he doesn't let go of you for a second. 

He can’t even say anything to make you feel better and it's frustrating. Not because of you, but because Kaveh isn’t good enough to communicate that everything will be alright. You don’t need that idiot who doesn’t realize how wonderful you are and it’s missing it out for a person who isn't worth the time—no offense to Nilou, she's a nice person, but you are more important than any other woman.

Biting his lip, he runs his fingers through your hair softly while you cry. He gets tangled easily between the fringes of hair, and Kaveh panics slightly when he gets stuck and is unable to detangle without causing a mess or pulling your roots. But when he hears you whine, and break a little laugh at his attempt at comforting you and messing up, he smiles softly, kissing the top of your head gently.

You tap the arm that’s holding your waist, catching his attention and making some distance to see your face. Kaveh frowns at your expression, cleaning a stray tear and cupping your cheek, thumb running soothingly under your eye. 

With trembling fingers, you start spelling slowly to him, “I’m sorry.”

Kaveh shakes his head, smiling reassuringly at you. His reply is slow, too, vocalizing every syllable, “Don’t be.”

“My fault.”

It's not your fault, he wants to say, but shortens it with a shake of his head. 

Conflicting emotions swirl inside of you, each one unable to place a name or intensity, that sends you into an overwhelming state of sadness.

Never in your life have you experienced something this strong that could make you ill with a snap of your fingers, rendering you weak and detached from your reality.

It still feels like a fever dream when you think about Al-Haitham trying to court someone, the ugly jealousy hurling inside your chest and your brain creating unnecessary images that do nothing to help your case nor fragile feelings.

Overthinking has always been your strong suit, despite trying to get rid of that bad habit for a long time; and it shows clearly that’s still ever so present when Kaveh shifts from under you, his big palm patting your head with care, and the tears well up in your eyes rather quickly with his show of affection because you selfishly wish this was Al-Haitham.

Falling in love is not as easy as romance books make it seem to be. It doesn't come with step by step instructions to help you get over the one you love, much less how to get the person of your affections when nothing seems to go your way.

The journey through the lands of unrequited love is a heavy one, one where you couldn't bring yourself to fathom severing the ties that bound you to him, even when the chance of Al-Haitham still hurting you unconsciously existed. Your love, though hopelessly one-sided, was a testament to the depth of your emotions—it’s bittersweet to try to find comfort in the idea that you might heal in the future, that you will get over him, but it lingers for a brief second before it vanishes completely.

And you rather be hopeless in love than to lose this cherished feeling you’ve cared for a long time.

Your brain runs down a mile, thought after thought, tears after tears, until you are left bare and dry from crying and fall asleep in Kaveh's arms.

#I started watching sign of affection and thought it fit AlHaitham perfectly so here is my rendition(?) to that anime #I didnt like al-haitham until that anime and now i like him #al haitham x reader #genshin impact fanfic #al haitham x you #genshin fic #otip writes

[covidsafehotties]

https://www.business-standard.com/article/current-affairs/wearing-mask-can-reduce-covid-19-infection-by-53-says-study-121111800899_1.html

"While vaccinations are safe, effective and saving lives around the world against Covid, wearing masks is the most effective public health measure that can reduce the incidence of the deadly infectious disease by more than half, according to a study.

The study led by an international team of researchers from Australia, the UK and China conducted a systematic review and meta-analysis of non-pharmaceutical interventions showing for the first time that mask wearing, social distancing and handwashing are all effective measures at curbing cases -- with mask wearing the most effective."

This is older (published 2021) but shows the fallacy that "we don't have the studies that show masks work." We did. We still do. Masks work. The study in question was of universal masking with surgical and cloth masks, and used statistical analysis to show the reduction of covid infections by using single protections. That's why it's important to stack protections (such as ventilation, nasal prophylactic sprays, limiting exposure time, and distancing when possible) and wear a well fitting respirator to avoid catchibg covid as universal masking becomes a thing of the past.

#masks work #mask up #covid #covid 19 #covid isn't over #pandemic #covid conscious #covid is airborne #wear a mask #coronavirus

[eluxcastar]

A guide to surviving the Harbingers

── ୨୧：fatui harbingers & reader

୨୧﹑synopsis :: as a servant directly to the tsaritsa, there is a specific (unofficial) rule set that is passed around amongst you that you must follow in order to survive most interactions with the current eleven fatui harbingers.

୨୧﹑genre :: idk man what is this

୨୧﹑content :: all of these people are as awful as possible, reader is completely unmentioned/implied to be reading this (woaaa), some points are purposely vague

୨୧﹑words :: 742

so I got like half way through writing this and I was like "I feel like someone has done this before", so if something like this does exist props to the writer

first and foremost: all orders are absolute, your position depends heavily on your compliance. insubordination and attitude in front of the wrong person will get you no further than a six foot hole in the ground. sir and ma'am are important to some, less so to others.

do not ever refer casually to the jester. his name carries weight even among the somewhat secluded ranks of the Tsaritsa's servants. his word outweighs almost everyone and he is never to be trifled with. remain calm. remain polite. don't speak unless spoken to, and never more than necessary. complete all work around him as quickly, quietly and with as much precision as possible. any sign of incompetence is grounds for him to have you stripped of your position and punished harshly.

the doctor runs low on subjects frequently. keep his stock filled no matter where the people have to come from. several sources are available. the head maid will help newcomers learn of these. staying out of both his laboratory and his way completely will keep you from becoming a part of the next group. it's best not to become very attached to any of his assistants.

Tartaglia is deceptively kind. don't be afraid of his smile, don't be too slow with fulfilling his requests—they won't be requests if you make him wait. unlike most, he seems more aggressive than he is. don't worry, his eagerness for fighting does not extend to those who cannot fight unless you stand in his way. do not speak a word of official affairs, titles, formalities or position in the presence of his siblings.

don't refuse Sandrone's gifts, but understand that they can quickly become bad omens. those who she becomes fond of receive many of her gifts, her affectionate gifts will lead to less than favourable fates. she can be avoided, and she is usually not hostile towards those who she only finds passively annoying or uninteresting. she only gives gifts to the ones she likes.

if you hear the voice of the damselette, you should leave the area before she sees you and busy yourself in a place where you can no longer hear her. Colombina's song is for the ears of few, and servants do not fit that group.

out of everyone, Arlecchino is most dangerous to someone forced to be subservient to her. her words can sound prettier than they are, and she is polite even to servants, but she is a spider who crafts a neat little web for the poor souls who are unlucky enough to anger her, or catch her in a particularly foul mood.

Pulcinella is the second to avoid. remain polite. respect your elders. do not follow Sandrone's steps; deny his kindness. act as if inconveniencing him would be a detriment to your greater conscience so that it would no longer be kindness. his offers are never for your benefit.

in line with her ideals, La Signora has those she likes and those who can only irritate her. if she likes you, tread carefully, obey her orders and fulfil any and all wishes she has of you regardless of your opinion on the matter. it's not important. don't question, don't challenge. if you are among those she doesn't like, assign your tasks to those she does. it's better you don't find out what happens when a rat gets on her nerves.

Capitano can be frightful, but his commands are simple and easy to follow at a glance. treat his words like orders. there are many things you can get out of easier than you think, many you cannot. stay out of them all. he is strong; he can break you.

the regrator and his generosity are never what they seem. luxuries come at a steep cost, one that few are willing to pay, however it's best not to go too far and test your luck. Pantalone is never so benevolent he gives out gifts at the same price for ever, the market changes too quickly. don't be caught in that trap and there's nothing to worry about.

though praises for him are quite few and far between, the Balladeer is quite easy to deal with if the day is good. he expects for orders to be carried out quickly, efficiently and exactly as he gives them. he doesn't not take kindly to initiative and can see it as issuing your own orders. wait for his word. orders will come.

#✦ — headcanons. #Jesus I'm gonna hate tagging this #there's so many people #pierro #genshin pierro #pierro x reader #dottore #il dottore #genshin dottore #dottore x reader #il dottore x reader #pantalone #genshin pantalone #pantalone x reader #tartaglia #childe #genshin childe #genshin tartagalia #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #sandrone #genshin sandrone #sandrone x reader #colombina #columbina #genshin columbina #colombina x reader #columbina x reader #arlecchino #genshin arlecchino

[dailyhindigk]

Today Current Affairs In Hindi। 01 June 2022

Today Current Affairs In Hindi। 01 June 2022

आज की करंट अफ़ेयर्स में आपका स्वागत है।Today Current Affairs In Hindi 01 June 2022 के जितने भी सवाल बनते है। आज हम उन सवालों को आपके लिए लेकर आए है तो दोस्तों सभी सवालों को ध्यान से पढ़ना और ऊपर रेटिंग का ओप्सन दिया गया है तो उस पर रेट भी कर देना। नोट : इस पोस्ट को अपने सभी दोस्तों को शेयर भी कर देना।  प्रश्न 1. हाल ही में अंतर्राष्ट्रीय एस्टेरोईड दिवस कब मनाया गया है? 28 जून को 30 जून को 29 जून…

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#current Affairs #current affairs 2022 #current affairs 2022 in hindi #current affairs for railway bharti #current affairs hindi #current affairs important questions #current affairs in hindi #current affairs live #current affairs today #current affairs with indresh rc #daily current affairs #daily current affairs booster #daily current affairs news #june 2022 current affairs #next exam current affairs #today current affairs #Today Current Affairs In Hindi 01 June 2022 #upsc current affairs #world current affairs

[vodkassassin]

In the Moshang Wing!AU, what are the other peak lords reactions to SQH's wings? How are they revealed? (Will it be a dramatic reveal, eg. Rescuing his disciples or protecting non-cultivators from demons?) What are other people's reactions? I both want and don't want to know the OPM's reaction to SQH's wings. Creep.

Are you giving him red-crowned crane wings like @mediumsizedpidegon suggested, or are you sticking to the typical angelic white?

Every time I get an ask about Wings!Moshang AU I go feral and come out the other end with so many muse for this 😫is it a curse

—

When head disciple Shang Qinghua is reported missing, there are no alarms raised on Cang Qiong Mountains.

After all, is there any point? He has gone missing before. The first time was before he was ever even an inner disciple of An Ding. It’s a pattern, it’s a habit — it’s become a characteristic of his.

In the beginning, of course there had been worry, concern, scolding. However, as the years climbed onward, one truth became apparent to everyone, and it was this; if Shang Qinghua was missing, he would not be found.

Each and every time, no matter how long it takes, he always comes crawling back on his own.

No amount of search parties dispatched would would ever find a single clue as to his whereabouts. After a decade of failures, they just stopped trying.

Perhaps such a circumstance might make some suspicious. Spies amongst the sects are not unheard of, after all, and Shang Qinghua’s regular disappearing acts would go hand in hand with such a position.

Yes, the idea was brought up more than once in some meeting or other, though in the end nothing much was done about it. This was because they could all eventually agree on one thing — that Shang Qinghua did not have the temperament of being a spy.

He is a people pleaser. The type of disciple that would scramble with desperation the second he got it in his head that something might be expected of him. That didn’t change much after he became a head disciple, which might make some sneer at him, but to others it was almost endearing.

Someone like that would not have the ability to even encounter the thought of turning coat to serve another side.

And so Shang Qinghua was left to his devices, disappearing from the sect and then reappearing later with barely anyone batting an eye beyond some frustration of certain forms and reports being left untouched in his absence. Deadlines did have to be kept, after all, no matter the strange habit.

Which is why no one questions it when Shang Qinghua missed a head disciple meeting. He’s missed them before, and it had only been three days since he was last seen on his peak. He’s never been gone for more than a week. With no important matters being discussed, anything that might concern him was simply pushed to the next meeting and this one concluded without him. Business continued as normal within the mountain sect.

It was his subsequence absence at said next meeting that finally managed to raise a few eyebrows.

Head disciple meetings are a biweekly affair, wherein all twelve head disciples gathered to discuss the running of the different peaks and talk business. They are preliminary meetings to the peak lord meetings that they will be conducting in the future, once the current peak lords ascend.

For Shang Qinghua to miss not only one, but two of such meetings, with no report of him being seen anywhere in the sect between them, is to say that Shang Qinghua has been missing for over two weeks. Twice as long as he has ever been gone before.

The subject of the second meeting leaned more toward discussing the possible whereabouts of the head disciple of their fourth peak rather than anything else. The debate was inconclusive, and the meeting adjourned with more questions than answers.

After all, when Shang Qinghua has disappeared, he cannot be found until he choses to return.

The pressure of being a head disciple, it was theorized, must be getting to him. Running away to escape the demands of the position, even for a little bit, is nothing to frown at. Sometimes we all need room to breathe.

And, in the end, no matter how long he is gone, he always returns.

This time he is gone for longer, but nothing is done. He is their brother, they say, and they have to trust that he will come back as he always has.

Another week goes by with no sign of the missing head disciple. It’s here that worry finally begins to get the better of them. Was their trust misplaced after all? Did something… truly happen, this time?

Or, was something happening each time, every time he was gone, and he never told anyone, and none of them ever noticed?

They can do nothing but make guesses. It’s a powerless feeling. They are disciples of a powerful cultivation section, but not even their search talismans are working. Which has always happened when someone tries to find Shang Qinghua after he’s disappeared, but it’s nonetheless disheartening that it still doesn’t work now, when something might honestly be wrong.

They go to their peak lords, who lend hand in the search. Just as before, though, there are no results. Shang Qinghua cannot be found, and it would be damn impressive if it wasn’t so worrying.

They can only wait.

It’s a few days before the third biweekly meeting that Shang Qinghua finally does crawl his way back to the sect.

The reason for his disappearance this time not a single one of them could have ever guessed correctly even if they’d been given hints. It’s something that would have never occurred to them even at their most imaginative.

After all, this is Shang Qinghua they’re talking about. Small, cowardly, somewhat reliable but not exactly trustworthy, never the strongest. Out of every cultivator in China, he’s the last one anyone would have thought this could happen to.

His return is abrupt and with no little drama. He appears directly in Mu Qingfang’s hospital office, the torn remnants of a teleportation talisman clutched in bloodied fists. He’s curled in on himself, robes as red as his hands and clearly injured. There’s blood all over him, coating his limbs and his face, even his—

— wings.

My Qingfang gapes. Unprofessionally, it takes him far too many lengthy moments to gather himself together, and when the implications of what’s happened finally hit him, the head disciple of the medical peak goes deathly pale.

This brother of his, this small and shy and flighty shixiong. This seemingly subpar cultivator whose faithfulness to the righteous path and their own sect has been ruthlessly questioned by even himself like the rest of their martial sibling again and again.

He’s grown wings. He’s been gone for three and a half weeks and in that time he has grown wings.

Mu Qingfang scrambles to kneel next to his shixiong, hands raised but not touching Shang Qinghua’s huddled form. He can see that he is trembling from the pain, and it is no wonder — three weeks; his blood congealing and already dried in places. His face beneath the red is paler than a ghost.

The — wings, are tucked in tightly against his back, and they twitch and spasm with his pain and discomfort. They’re unkempt and dirty and shivering. Mu Qingfang can’t even see what color they are beneath the grime.

Goosebumps prickle at Mu Qingfang’s skin, raising the hairs on the back of his neck as he stares at the wings, then at his unresponsive shixiong. He finally places a hand on Shang Qinghua’s shoulder, and Shang Qinghua flinches away from him.

Mu Qingfang swallows. He lunges up from the floor and shouts for his aids, his peak lord, anyone.

Three weeks. Missing. Presumably alone the entire time.

Wings.

He’s be surprised if Shang Qinghua managed to keep his sanity, after all this.

__

As for the other questions… you’ll have to wait and see :3

Moshang Wings AU:

MBJ’s initial reaction, wings AU origin post, MBJ’s full reaction (in progress), SQH wing fanart, vodka’s SQH wing art…

#shang qinghua #vodkassassin fanfiction #moshang #thatmadpyrochesire #Moshang wings!AU #svsss

[the-light-of-stars]

German Ministers of Internal Affairs call for criminalisation of Israel criticism; German Ministers of Culture and Education call on universities to create official bodies for reporting Israel criticism

" Because of the terror attacks on Israel the federal Ministers of Internal Affairs have called for a criminalisation of public denial of Israel's right to existence. They call on Federal Minister of the Interior Nancy Faeser (SPD) to check wether the penal law would have to be adjusted for this, said the chair of the Conference of Ministers of the Interior (IMK), Berlin's Senator of the Interior Iris Spranger (SPD). The goal is to better apprehend the public denial of Israel's right to existence."

"The Conference of Ministers of Culture and Education has called on universities in Germany to persecute antisemitic incidents. " We are condemning the antisemitic and anti Israel [lit.: Israel-hostile] incidents in recent times in Germany." it was said in an action-plan. The ministers call on the whole university family to continuously position themselves strongly against antisemitism and Israel criticism [lit.: Israel-hostility] and to also announce this publically. - The paper lists ten points. Among other things the ministers call for the establishing of antisemitism commissioners and expansion of reporting- and counseling offices. Additionally they encourage universities to further the exchange with jewish communities and student organisations as well as boosting existing cooperations with israeli universities and scientific institutions."

Something to note: When the Ministers of the Interior call for the criminalisation of denial of Israel's right to existence they are not only referring to organised decolonialisation efforts but also to general criticism and calls for stopping occupation and genocide as well as calls like "stop the war" , as these kinds of statements have in the past been considered "absurd", "missing democratic values" and "antisemitic / denial of Israel's right to existence" already and representatives stated that the government considers "questioning of the israeli resistance [referring to its military operations in Gaza] inacceptable"

Similarly, as the specific call to persecute Israel criticism shows, when the Ministers for Culture and Education call on universities to create bodies for reporting and punishing antisemitism and Israel criticism they are not actually concerned with real antisemitic incidents - else they would have done something about those years ago - but rather are specifically targetting leftist students and university staff. While there absolutely is a rise of actual antisemitism in Germany, very much including in leftist and academic circles, and options for reporting or getting counseling on genuine antisemitic incidents are important, the repeated mention of Israel criticism as something to be reported and punished specifically in universities, where a lot of leftist organizing is happening, as well as the general current conflation of any critcism of Israel as antisemitic (see links above) makes clear that the combatting of genuine antisemitism is not the actual goal of these measures, rather its goal is the creation of official bodies for reporting leftist members of staff and student corpus.

When the ministers call on universities to expand their interactions with israeli institutions, something leftist students and staff have specifically been criticising as part of the BDS movement, they are calling on universities to show a clear pro-Israel stance and to disregard dissenting leftist voices. When they call on the universities to further exchanges with jewish communities and organisations they are certainly not referring to leftist organisations like the german chapter of Jewish Voice for Peace or other anti-zionist jewish (student-) organisations, since they, their activists and their protests have also been targetted by german police in the past, further showing that calls like these are not really about ensuring the safety of jewish citizens , and certainly not about ensuring the safety of jewish people whose opinions do not align with those of the german government, but about ensuring the upholding of german political interests and the quieting of leftist voices.

Not to mention that it is generally really weird to criminalize and punish political criticism of any state, especially a foreign one, particularly in light of german government officials and politicians discussing the possibility of making a pledge to Israel a requirement for naturalization and making Israel criticism grounds for deportation as well as considering to revoke the right to free speech for anyone that doesn't have german citizenship.

#german stuff #current events #palestine #free palestine #gaza

[wholesomefluffdaddy]

Wednesday's new court mandated therapist is having her keep a journal of her thoughts and feelings. Wednesday finds this to be a complete waste of time and decides instead to use it to record her observations of her unusual roommate Enid Sinclair. Wednesday POV.

——————————————

Entry 12

Current Moon Phase: Waxing Gibbous 🌔

I have had multiple sessions with my therapist between this entry and the previous as I try to come to terms with what happened on the day of the first quarter moon. I cannot fathom how I could utter the words I have come to despise from my parents' overuse. Calling Enid 'cara mia' has haunted me ever since. Strangely, my therapist found my spontaneous sexual arousal with Enid to be a more pressing matter, as did Enid. While I agree it did have importance, my primary concern was my utterance of my parents' so loathsomely frequent term of endearment and the fact that I had let it slip many more times since then when conversing with Enid.

Though I suppose she may have wanted to explore a possible connection between my sexual arousal and use of the words. I'll admit it was rather shocking to discover I could have such a feeling, especially while in contact with my werewolf Enid. She presented me with a handful of options and asked how I would like to proceed.

Firstly she asked if I would like to have Enid join in a session, so as to have everything out in the open. I declined as Enid did not need to see my ineptitude in navigating such matters. Second, she offered that we explore the history of my romantic partners. I failed to see its relevance and, likewise to the first proposal, I declined. Third, she strongly suggested we, at the very least, discuss the physiological and psychological aspects of sexual arousal and course of action on how to address it when such occurrences arise. Finally, she posited that it may be prudent to traverse my abhorrence towards my parents' incessant outward displays of affection. I found these last two options sensible and agreed to pursue them.

With our objectives set I was suddenly thrust into what one might call a 'crash course' of sexual education. I was somewhat surprised to learn that we would not be covering reproduction however. This was most perplexing. Is sexual arousal not a symptom or byproduct of an instinctual desire to reproduce? My therapist asked if sexual intercourse was solely for the purpose of producing offspring. I felt conflicted. My first answer was yes. People are driven by a base instinct to reproduce whether they wish to have offspring or not. She questioned my reasoning by asking what the point of contraceptives would be then. I stated that some at least have the foresight to see that they are incapable or are presently unable to care for their would-be spawn.

She asked if I knew about homosexuality. I had to rescind my previous answer. Sexual intercourse was also something that could be done to affirm social bonds. She questioned what my views were on both answers I had given. I had to pause to consider my thoughts. I stated that I had no desire to bare spawn and find reproduction to be highly unnecessary given the current state affairs and rapid destruction of the Earth. I was not surprised by her hypothetical question of if my views would be different if the world wasn't experiencing such turmoil. My answer remained the same.

Her follow-up was to have me speculate why I felt sexual arousal while Enid and I exchanged oral greetings. I pondered this before returning to my second answer. I clearly wished to affirm my social bond with Enid as packmates. She asked if I wanted to affirm social bonds with any others, such as acquaintances or friends. I frowned. I had no desire to, plus the symptom only occurred when I was in the presence of my werewolf companion. She asked why I thought that was. I had no answer other than that I feel close to Enid, which is natural considering our status as packmates.

Next I was instructed to take my time and reflect on the nature of my physical and emotional attractions to others. There was nothing to consider. I felt attraction to no one. She brought up my previous relationships and asked me to explain them if I felt no attraction. I was troubled by the question. Why did I court and let myself be courted? I thought about the wretched date with the Hyde creature. It was in a location Enid had once selected for a surprise birthday party. I remarked with fondness that Enid understood I would find a crypt intriguing (though admittedly I was too distracted by my ongoing murder investigation to fully appreciate it). She pressed further, why did that particular date come to mind?

I thought harder. I recalled watching the torturous movie about an annoyingly bubbly and yet surprisingly intellectual blonde overcoming substantial obstacles. Not too dissimilar from another blonde I know. She asked me to think about Tyler. What was he doing during that date that I liked? What was I thinking or feeling about him at the time? Why was that date so memorable that it popped into my mind first? I found this line of questioning to be unusually difficult to answer and grew rather frustrated. For whatever reason Enid kept drifting to the forefront of my mind.

We had been fighting at the time the date had occurred. Though I was too stubborn to admit it then, I confessed that I missed Enid horribly. For the first time in my life solitude had become torture; as I had grown most accustomed to the werewolf's presence and warmth. I rambled aimlessly about how I desired nothing but death after the argument with Enid and her request to room with the mosquito Tanaka. It was under this state of woeful anguish that I became increasingly more impulsive, as if nothing really mattered with Enid's absence. I posited that for being the only reason I agreed to the wretched date with the Hyde. The crypt reminded me of Enid, the fairy lights strung across it reminded me of Enid, the movie reminded me of Enid. Evidently I was trying to fill an Enid shaped hole with whatever creature, no matter how foul, would take me after her departure.

My therapist took great interest in my wandering thoughts. I did not. I requested that we return to discussing the means of dealing with sudden and unexpected sexual arousal. She raised no further questions on the matter and suggested we take a short break before we switched back to said topic. The respit was rather beneficial as it allowed me time to recompose myself. I was taken aback by how affected I was from retelling such events from the past.

Once the respit concluded we dove straight into the topic of my spontaneous sexual arousal. She asked if I knew of any ways to address such a physical malady. I admitted that I paradoxically both did and did not. She had me extrapolate. I suggested self stimulation. She asked why I didn't sound confident in my answer. I explained that while I knew of the actions' existence I never studied or practiced it, for I had no need until recently. The matter was subsequently discussed in greater depth with more technical terms. I was reassured that there was no pressure to 'masturbate' and that I should address that matter however I saw fit.

The conversation was uncomfortable but informative. I must find a way to ask Enid for us to pause our greetings so that I may deal with my physical needs in private should they become too overwhelming. Perhaps I shall also inquire as to whether she too experiences sexual arousal when we greet, and if so, how does she deal with it?

We then reached the final topic for today's session, my parents. She asked fewer questions as she wished for me to simply share my experiences and thoughts on them. I began by listing the numerous ways my parents display affection. I likened them to exhibitionists, for they drape themselves over each other so shamelessly regardless of the setting. Their sickening pet names are uttered with such frequency I truly wonder if they have forgotten their own names. They seem to have the uncontrollable desire to broadcast their relationship to every unfortunate soul within their immediate vicinity.

I expressed my displeasure at this very performative display. For whom are they trying to convince of their unwavering devotion and adoration? If I had a person for whom I cared deeply I would not vaunt of it for all the world to see. It would be a rather personal and private matter. My expressions of love would be for their eyes only, because only they would be worthy of such vulnerability, and that would make it all the more intimate. Our love would not need to be proven to anyone. It is our love and thus would be held privy only to us like a pearl hidden within an oyster.

My therapist posed a question, though she informed me she had a feeling as to its answer already, would I keep my love hidden because I was ashamed of it or my partner? I frowned. I would be ashamed of nothing nor my partner. She nodded thoughtfully and asked if I would deny to myself if I was in love; out of feelings of resentment towards my parents' very public displays of love and affection. I dismissed such a childish notion. If I was experiencing feelings of great attraction I would not lie to myself. She asked if I really thought that was true. I scoffed. I reiterated that I have no attraction to anyone at present. I only wish to be a good packmate / partner to Enid and that it was more than enough for me.

She seemed to repress a heavy sigh and glanced at the clock. It appeared that our session was over. I thanked her for the relevant information and exited the room. Enid bounded towards me as I reached the foyer and we shared a quick greeting upon the lips before heading out.

#ao3 fanfic #archive of our own #enid sinclair #wednesday addams #wednesday netflix #wednesday x enid #wenclair #wednesday is oblivious #wednesday is soft for enid #wholesomefluffdaddy

[probablyasocialecologist]

Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu: “You must remember what Amalek has done to you, says our Holy Bible. And we do remember.” This is a reference invoking the Biblical story of the total destruction of the Amalek by the Israelites, which Biblical passage reads in the relevant part: “Spare no one, but kill alike men and women, infants and sucklings, oxen and sheep, camels and asses.” 

President Isaac Herzog: “It’s an entire nation out there that is responsible. It’s not true this rhetoric about civilians not aware not involved. It’s absolutely not true. … and we will fight until we break their backbone.”

Minister of Defense Yoav Gallant:  

Israel is “imposing a complete siege on Gaza. No electricity, no food, no water, no fuel. Everything is closed. We are fighting human animals and we are acting accordingly.” 

“Gaza won’t return to what it was before. We will eliminate everything. If it doesn’t take one day, it will take a week. It will take weeks or even months, we will reach all places.”

Minister for National Security Itamar Ben-Gvir: “[t]o be clear, when we say that Hamas should be destroyed, it also means those who celebrate, those who support, and those who hand out candy — they’re all terrorists, and they should also be destroyed.”

Minister of Energy and Infrastructure Israel Katz: “All the civilian population in Gaza is ordered to leave immediately. We will win. They will not receive a drop of water or a single battery until they leave the world.”

Minister of Finance Bezalel Smotrich: “We need to deal a blow that hasn’t been seen in 50 years and take down Gaza.”

Minister of Amihai Eliyahu: “The north of the Gaza Strip, more beautiful than ever. Everything is blown up and flattened, simply a pleasure for the eyes … We must talk about the day after. In my mind, we will hand over lots to all those who fought for Gaza over the years and to those evicted from Gush Katif” [a former Israeli settlement].  “There is no such thing as uninvolved civilians in Gaza.”

Minister of Agriculture Avi Dichter: “We are now actually rolling out the Gaza Nakba.” [This term, “Nakba,” is a reference to the forced expulsion of around 750,000 Palestinians during the war that established Israel as an independent state. Israeli historian Ilan Pappe refers to it as The Ethnic Cleansing of Palestine.]

Knesset Deputy Speaker and Foreign Affairs and Security Committee Member Nissim Vaturi: “Now we all have one common goal — erasing the Gaza Strip from the face of the earth.” 

Israeli Reservist Major General and adviser to the Defense Minister Giora Eiland: 

“The people should be told that they have two choices; to stay and to starve, or to leave. If Egypt and other countries prefer that these people will perish in Gaza, this is their choice.”  

“When you are at war with another country you don’t feed them, you don’t provide them electricity or gas or water or anything else . . . A country can be attacked in a much broader way, to bring the country to the brink of dysfunction. This is the necessary outcome of events in Gaza.” 

“Israel has no interest in the Gaza Strip being rehabilitated and this is an important point that needs to be made clear to the Americans.”  

“The State of Israel has no choice but to make Gaza a place that is temporarily, or permanently, impossible to live in.”

“Who are the ‘poor’ women of Gaza? They are all the mothers, sisters or wives of Hamas murderers. . . . The international community warns us of a humanitarian disaster in Gaza and of severe epidemics. We must not shy away from this, as difficult as that may be. After all, severe epidemics in the south of the Gaza Strip will bring victory closer . . . It is precisely its civil collapse that will bring the end of the war closer. When senior Israeli figures say in the media ‘It’s either us or them’ we should clarify the question of who is ‘them’. ‘They’ are not only Hamas fighters with weapons, but also all the ‘civilian’ officials, including hospital administrators and school administrators, and also the entire Gaza population who enthusiastically supported Hamas and cheered on its atrocities on October 7th.”

#israel #palestine #zionism #gaza #genocide

[theoutcastrogue]

the internet is rotting, as Jonathan Zittrain noted in an important (but paywalled) 2021 Atlantic article. A huge percentage of the links on the internet are broken, and there is no single authoritative, accessible universal repository that keeps track of everything. It is frighteningly easy for crucial information to slip away. ...

The practice of making changes to an article without noting that you’ve made them is called “stealth editing,” and even the New York Times does it. ... The existence of stealth editing means that it’s difficult to trust that the version of an article you click on at any given moment is the article as it was originally published. ...

I also, to my alarm, realized just how dependent we are on private publications themselves to give us access to records of their own work. Often, they keep it payawalled behind locked gates and charge you admission if you want to have a look. There are lots of sources in the Chomsky book to which you have to subscribe if you want to verify, such as this 1999 story in the Los Angeles Times about NATO’s bombing of a bus in Yugoslavia. This is a story of national importance, far too overlooked at the time, but if you don’t subscribe to the LA Times, you need research library access or a workaround if you want to read it.

Thank God for the Internet Archive, whose Wayback Machine preserves as much of the internet as they can and is invaluable for researchers trying to figure out what was once housed at now-dead links. But the Internet Archive has its limits. Social media posts, YouTube videos, paywalled Substack posts, PDFs—all can be very difficult to track down after they disappear. If a politician tweets something embarrassing, for instance, and then deletes it, it might be preserved in a screenshot. But we know screenshots are easy to fake. So where do you turn to prove satisfactorily that something was in fact said? ...

it’s very easy to lose pieces of information that seem permanent. E-books, for instance, can be changed by their publisher without the changes even being noted. You might read a book on your Amazon Kindle one day and open it up the next day to look for a quote only to find that the quote has disappeared without a trace. The Guardian, for twenty years, hosted a copy of Osama bin Laden’s “letter to the American people,” an important historical document. After the letter went viral on TikTok, the Guardian removed it from the site entirely. The New Republic did the same after an article of theirs about Pete Buttigieg caused controversy. The documents in question can still be found, but only by digging through the Internet Archive. If that ever goes down, researchers will find that trying to piece together the online past is like trying to learn about a lost civilization from excavated fragments. ...

I think that in an age where people (rightly) don’t trust the information they’re getting to be true, it needs to be as easy as possible to do research. Instead, while we have better technology than ever for sifting through information, it’s still the case that the truth is paywalled and the lies are free. If you want to “do your own research” to check on the veracity of claims, you will run headlong into a maze of broken links, paywalls, and pop-ups. How can anyone hope to find the truth when it’s so elusive, trapped behind so many toll gates? 

#Nathan J. Robinson #theory #information wants to be free