#And then raised in a school system that is only english

[thestrangestwatermelonofall]

Crying. Language is fun

[inkskinned]

i love finding out how big this world is. my girlfriend has only visited boston a handful of times, but i grew up here. i told her we'd be going to do the tourist traps in salem, and she said - which salem?

to be fair to her, there are a lot of other states that have a town named "salem." and i think there's some evidence that the witch trials actually happened in what is now called Danvers. but the thing is - she thought "salem" was like, a made-up thing. there wasn't actually a salem, massachusetts - like there isn't a gotham city.

they don't talk about it that much where she grew up, is the thing! and this made me laugh. a week ago she was talking about her hometown and said something akin to "well the museum's kinda like the one in richmond," and i had to explain i still had no frame of reference for what the hell this museum was like.

i love finding out what knowledge i take for granted. i used to live with 5 other women. 3 of them were from south korea. they had to take, like, a solid fifteen minutes to explain their birthday system to my gay math-blind ass, laughing as they did.

that same month, our roommate from denmark taught me the danish word for wreath by accident - she'd been talking about decorations, used krans, and i'd been able to figure it out through context. i just picked it up and kept talking. our entire house used krans as the word. she came home and slammed the door one evening, mock-angry, shouting: you motherfuckers! it's a - a wreath!

and how often do you use certain words, anyway! i am cuban, so i was raised with certain spanish words sort of sprinkled in there; but never how you'd think. in middle school i asked someone to pass me the recogedor - in a completely american accent, like i was speaking english. i hadn't registered it as a spanish word. i mean, how often in school do you actually use the word "dustpan" - i'd only ever heard it in the context of cleaning my house.

there are places that you grew up that you, just, like, know. that you assume everyone knows. there are things and people and "common knowledge" that you have that, just, like. doesn't exist for me. i don't know what you call your public transportation system, but in boston we call it "the T". our train cards are called charlie cards because of a song where a father accidentally abandons his family, which was written because our system of transportation. in boston, most people would snort and say everyone knows that, kid.

i think you and i should go on a long walk - it's getting dark early these days and we need any sun we can manage. tell me about the first time you saw snow. tell me about the stuff everyone knows about your home. tell me about the cities "everyone's been to," about the food "everyone's already tried." who knows. maybe it will feel nice to you - watching someone learn about it for the very first time.

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP fanfic Idea: Lights and Camera

"There he is," Tim whispered, looking out from behind the library bookshelves. Besides him, Bart, Kon, and Cassie lean over him, stacking each head on top of each other so they can adequately see who Tim is pointing out.

Across the libary, Babs shales her head with a sigh but doesn't call them out. For one, it would be unnecessary loud and another....well, she enjoys having blackmail on her vigilante coworkers and the Young Jutice team climbing on top of each other to stare at a random civilian was the good kind. She turns back to her list of books to stamp and scan back into the system.

Tim had mentioned seeing someone he wanted to recruit for his and his teammates' fake online clothes store. It was the cover the teens had come up with, for an explanation on how they all had such different backgrounds but had still become friends.

The other bats thought it was a mere cover, but Babs knew how seriously Tim took his fake store. It was mostly due to Tim's team making very realistic cosplay outfits that are commissioned to their site. Since they catered to such a nitch community Tim wanted each job to be perfect. (Also he's a nerd like that)

Or maybe it had everything to do with Tim's not-so-secret adoration of photography.

Bart made the clothes, Cassie and Conner modeled and Tim took all the photos. It helped that the speedster was used to making clothes in the post-apocalyptic future, but no one could deny his master of the needle. Cassie and Conner were both rather good looking, and they seemed perfectly fine with showing off this fact.

The thing is, their store is starting to gain traction. If it weren't for the fact, Bart could move as fast as he could, Just Us fashion would be behind orders for months.

Tim was worried someone would catch on and figured they should attempt to hire a co-tailor. They attempted to reach out to fellow heros but no one their age was interested and they seemed rather put off by the idea of asking a adult.

Everyone was still tense from the last time Young Justice asked the Justice League for help.

Tim then decided to attempt to find a civilian who would help them with smaller pieces. Or maybe someone he could throw in front of a camera and pretend Conner or Cassie had taken a step back from modeling to help out with the orders.

His team allowed him to search for someone since they had no idea where to start. Tim scouted through all of Gotham, and ended up landing on Danny Fenton.

Babs had looked into Fenton's background as a favor to Tim and to satisfy her own curiosity. There wasn't much to the boy. Born and raised in a small town in Illinois, Fenton dropped out of high school to get his GED around his junior year. The notes on his file by his English teacher, principal, and school counselor indicated he was bullied out of school.

He passed the exam on the first try and, within a year, moved four states away to join Gotham School of Arts with a major in fashion. His parents were certified geniuses with a family company working in security and "ecto-entities." His sister was going to Gotham University for a physiology major.

The Fentons are a comfortable upper middle class family with no criminal history; the only blemish on their record is Jack Fenton's speeding tickets.

Fenton lived in the better parts of the city, paying his way through college and his own expenses by working as a remote tech support for various companies. It seemed he had inherited a knack for computers from his parents.

Barbara wasn't sure what about Fenton stuck out to Tim. The boy barely participated in public events when it came to his fashion. He only turned in assignments, and unless Tim made a habit of walking through the school of arts, he would have never seen his work.

"Wait, is he wearing-?" Conner whispered, squinting at Fenton, who was tapping away on his laptop. "He is! That's Flame-Flame battle pants!"

"No way." Bart gasps, standing on his toes to lean closer. "They look so good! Where did he get them?"

"He made them," Tim says with a certain lift to his voice that Babs recognizes easily. Aw, her little computer partner has a crush. "He makes all kind of fandom merch that can be worn out in public."

"Tim, we got get him on the team. Look at that Flame-Flames sweatshirt! I need it" Cassie hisses, rocking in place. She nearly causes Conner- who was leaning on her- to tumble over. "Go talk to him."

"I can't"

At that, Babs glances up. She's never heard Tim be nervous to speak to anyone before. Yet that's what she finds as the Young Justice team disappear aroudn the coner surrounding a red face Tim.

"What do you mean you can't? Why not?" Conner asks

"Look, I already tried to recruit him but messed up my pitch." As he admits, Tim kicks his feet, not bothering to look anyone in the eye. When he locked eyes with me, I choked on my spit midsentence."

Cassie slaps a hand over her mouth, but she is not fast enough to hide the snicker that slips through. The glare she gets from the only regular human could have sent her to her uncle Hades. "I'm sorry, you choked on your spit? Mr. CEO of WE? Mr. Suave? Mr. New Lover, every other Tuesday?"

"Shut up you don't get it! He was dressed in a really cool outfit of the Ninjas of Konoha, okay!? I wasn't prepared."

Barbara glances at Fenton as the team attempts to tease Tim. Rather loudly. It's like they forget they are in a really old building, so the acoustics pick up their voices really easily.

Based on his blushing face and hunched-over form, Fenton can obviously hear them. He keeps sending short glances to the shelf the other teens hide in. Fenton glances at his computer screen before rapidly fixing up his hair and straightening his clothes.

He fixes his scattered papers just as Tim rounds the corner of the bookshelves, looking rather nervous as he scoots to Fenton's desk. Babs watches the remaining young juice team whisper and shout encouragement as Tim stands next to Fenton.

Fenton's face, if possible, go even redder, and much to Babs' shock, he even starts to twirl the end of his ponytail around his figure as Tim starts talking.

This is cute. She thinks, aiming her camera phone at the pair. Taking three different shots, each displaying Tim's fumbling mess and Fenton's obvious interest, she quickly sends it to the bats with an evil smirk. And sort of pathetic.

She gets answers instantly, almost everyone teasing Tim or making "They grow up so fast" comments. The messages make a warm feeling of the family burn in her chest, reminding her of all that they argue about; the Bats truly care for one another.

It's Bruce's thoughts that shatters the chat with a simple text.

Why is Tim flirting with the Ghost King?

Babrbara stares at the words for a long moment before she types

Babs: What do you mean? Who's the Ghost King?

Bruce: That's the Ghost King or his human form. He rules the ghosts and our flip dimension. The Justice League Dark has him marked as a level 15 threat.

Damian: I beg your finest pardon? There are only five other beings on that threat level.

Bruce: Exactly. Tim knows not to speak to him.

Steph: Ugh Bruce none of ous knew that.

Bruce: He was in the yearly safety warning PowerPoint. You all said you reviewed it.

Jason: That thing is nine hours long! Of course, not all of us would actually look through it.

Bruce: I worked very hard on it. :'(

Duke: Guys? Shouldn't we worry about Tim? I mean is the Ghost King going to hurt him

Bruce: No, he's known to be very benevolent. Just as long as you don't accidently insult him.

"I'm not a whore!" The voice cuts through the air like a bullet. Barbara glances up just in time to see Tim backing up with a panicked expression as Fenton sneers.

He quickly gathers his things with a flick of his wrist, having all left in a bright green glow, and pushes by the shuttering vigilante. He stomps his way out of the library with an inhuman growl.

Tim throws his face into his hands with a wail of dispair. "I should have never listen to Dick's flirting advice!"

Barbara slaps a head over her forehead before texting the rest. So Tim may have called the King a whore.

Bruce: This is why I ask you to read my safety PowerPoint.

[paigebuckets6]

Yearning Allegations

Part: 1

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x reader

Genre: Friends to lovers slowburn (Series)

Synopsis: You've liked Paige for the longest time. Is there any chance she likes you too?

Paige Bueckers was your best friend.

She was also one of the most popular players on the Uconn Huskies.

Although many loved her, none of them knew her like you did. Most certainly, none of them loved her like you did.

You had known her since the first year of high school, where you two hit it off in English class, teasing her about how slowly she read. She had just shot some stupid comment back at you, and from then on, you two were inseparable - which is why you were sitting courtside at this very moment, happily watching her play.

"And that's time, another win for Uconn!!"

The announcer shouted loud as Paige threw the basketball at the last second, arcing perfectly into the net. She beamed wide as she turned around, her cheeks pink with pride, scanning the crowd for you. Her eyes seemed to shine a little brighter, or so you thought, upon landing on you.

She grinned in your direction, nodding slightly at you, as she ran past you to congratulate her teammates. They tackled her, nearly knocking her over. The crowd's roar was racious in your ears, their shouts nearly as loud as yours. Uconn had won again. You smiled to yourself, Paige was gonna be absolutely insufferable after this. She always was after games like these.

You waited patiently outside the change rooms, scrolling mindlessly on tiktok, waiting for Paige to finish up. Usually, she stayed a few extra minutes afterward, yapping with the team about whatever, and then would come out with KK, jokingly bickering about some nonsense. You hadn't been waiting more than 5 minutes when Paige came bounding out alone, grinning proudly. You grinned back, amused. She was like a 6 ft tall puppy.

"Yooo y/n, did you see me out there??!" Paige threw her arm around you as you guys started the familiar walk to her dorm. After wins, she'd refuse to let you get any work done so you didn't even bother going back to your dorm at this point.

"Yeah, I saw!!" You say, unable to stop yourself from smiling back. Paige's smile was genuinely infectious.

"Dude, I'm the best hooper at Uconn for reallll hahah." Her laughter echos around the hallway.

You roll your eyes and pat the hand she has draped over your shoulder.

"Ehhhh, I think you're alright"

Paige scoffs at you, eyebrows raised.

"Come on, just alright?? You love me, don't lie. " Her eyes are alight with happiness and you fight the corners of your mouth, looking away.

"That play at the end was eh, I've seen better"

Paige rolls her eyes, scoffing yet again before holding the door open for you, leaning against it.

"You're a terrible liar y/n"

Before you can reply, Paige ruffles your hair, and you bat her hand away, complaining. She grabs your hand, and you bodycheck her, but to no avail, cause she takes off running to her dorm just to annoy you on purpose. But you laugh anyway, cause it's so typical Paige.

---

It's only a few days later when you find yourself at an infamous Uconn house party, and the alcohol in your system is making your cheeks feel warm. Your red solo cup of vodka is half empty, and you peer at it, wondering if you should leave your comfy spot on the kitchen counter.

You're admiring Paige from across the room, watching her talk to some fans.

She looks hot as hell tonight, dressed in a black cropped tank top and low waisted baggy black cargo pants. Her middriff is on display, and a tiny bit of her boxers peak out. For a second you wonder about what'd it feel like to put your hands there but you force yourself to stop thinking about her, nails digging into your palms as you take another sip of your drink.

Your feelings for Paige had only intensified over the years, becoming harder and harder to ignore as you two got older. In high school, you could just explain it all away because she was your best friend, but now? You guys had only become closer since starting at Uconn, and these days resisting the urge to make a move was becoming nearly unbearable, especially with the looming fact that everyone and their mother wanted Paige.

Normally, you'd just go over to her and yap her ear off, but the amount of alcohol you've had tonight makes you feel like being around her might be a bit dangerous.

So instead, you just stare from afar, watching her put her arm around the girl who's exclaiming she's "her biggest fan." You roll your eyes, inner monologue already snarkly thinking that Paige gets told that at least once a day.

You're so engrossed in watching Paige take pictures- she's now laughing with the fan over some stupid joke- that you don't notice KK's slid over to you.

"Damn girl, you really ain't beating the yearning allegations huh"

Her voice shocks you out of your reverie, and you glance over at her.

"Huh!?? What do you mean-"

KK's eyes are knowing, and she just raises one brow as she pours herself a new drink.

"Boo, we all see the way you look at her"

You roll your eyes, trying to play it cool. Although you're pretty sure the whole team already knows how you feel, you still refuse to admit it cause what if that got back to Paige? You want her, but not more than your friendship. You could never forgive yourself if something happened to you two. You resist the urge to do anything about how you feel solely to protect your friendship.. but also because you're scared. What if she doesn't like you like that? It'd probably just make everything awkward anyway.

"I don't know what you're talking about- Paige's just my friend." You keep your voice steady, but your expression darkens as you see the girl is STILL talking to Paige, her hand lingering on Paige's waist as she draws back from a hug.

"Uh huh.. whatever you say, " KK says, leaving the kitchen with her refill.

A few minutes later, you're busy answering some texts when Paige comes over.

"Hey, KK told me you're being all edgy and hiding out in the kitchen instead of having fun at the party. You're scaring off the hoes, dude. "

Paige is always more affectionate than normal when she's drunk, and tonight is no different. She places her hand on your thigh, grinning as she peers at your face, and you look at her for a few seconds before you move off the counter to stand.

"I'm not hiding, I was dancing a bit ago I just got tired-" This is technically not a lie, considering you did dance for a few minutes before deciding to become the next Joe Goldberg.

"Rightttt..." Paige towers over you, an annoying fact that hasn't changed since high school.

You're about to reply with some smart ass answer when some girl walks into the kitchen, cup in hand, her jaw dropping open as she spots Paige.

"Oh my God, Paige Bueckers?!?" The girl's voice raises practically 3 octaves, and you feel so annoyed you resist the urge to just sigh at the sight.

"I love you so much! I was watching you the other day - that final score was so good you really clutched the game-" The girl gushes, her hand resting on Paige's arm. Paige is, of course, grinning broadly. She loves the attention - and you can practically feel a headache coming on from the sound of the girl's voice.

"My head hurts real bad, gonna go back to my dorm-" You murmur as you pass Paige to leave.

"Oh, are you okay?" Her attention is momentarily distracted by your leave, and you try to inject some pep into your voice.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

---

Authors Note: Hope yall don't mind a slowburn! Thought it'd be cute to make a short series <3

Trilogy: Part 2 here / Part 3 here

[crrepiest]

Yandere! Teacher x Reader

♡Yan!Teacher x GN Reader♡

Pt 2

Tw: age-gap, slight nsfw, pervy behavior, stalking, obsessive behavior

Make sure to check out Pt 1!

I gaze out onto the school courtyard from my classroom window as students scramble to get to their next class period. Red and orange leaves fall silently to the ground and collect in piles amongst the feet of the students. Some of them in a hurry while others take their time. You, being one of the punctual students.

At this point, it was routine.

Watching you as you hurry past the rest of the student body to get to your 4th period class early. My class. I like to think its because you're so eager to see me. As eager as I am to see you.

I sit in my chair, arms crossed, keeping a watchful eye until you were completely out of sight. I relax my shoulders and let them fall as a sigh escapes my lips.

I never feel at ease anymore. Time slows, minutes turn into hours until I was in your presence. Until I could smell your perfume/ cologne when you swept past my desk to take a seat. Just so I could hear your sweet voice say my name when you greeted me "Good morning Mr. Roth".

You were always so sweet to me. Showing up to my class early, asking if I need help around the classroom, always turning in your homework on time if not way before the due date. Always such a good little student, almost as if you're trying to impress me. Sometimes I cant tell if this is real or not.

Days turn to weeks, weeks turn to months and my thoughts turn ever increasingly centric of you

I find myself over thinking. Anxiety filled thoughts that leave me tossing and turning in my big empty bed, only to wish you were there with me, to sooth me.

What if you didn't reciprocate my feelings? How would you react when I inevitably opened my heart to you. Would you be repulsed by me? These thoughts fill my head, stretching the nights thin.

On especially bad nights, I've gotten into a habit of taking sleep medication. No method of self soothing could ease my mind.

Which led me here, too much sleep in my system from popping a pill at 6:30 pm since I couldn't rid the burning image of your face from my mind.

As I was lost in thought staring at my desk, light foot steps sounded from the hallway, headed toward my room. My eyes snap to the door in hopes that is was you.

You enter the class room with a smile already plastered on your face. My heart starts to beat faster at the sight. I send you a quick smile back as you begin to greet me.

"Hi Mr. Roth! How has your morning been so far?"

God. If only you knew.

If it were even possible, my cheeks start to burn harder as I listen to my name slide out of your mouth so elegantly.

"My morning just got better Mx (y/ I/n)." I smirk at you.

"Oh stop it" you giggled as you walked to your desk to take a seat.

And just like that, all the worry washed away from my body.

"How was your night last night (y/n)" I try to keep the conversation flowing for as long as I could.

I tried to pay attention to you. I really did. Every word that poured out of your mouth was like a symphony. It's just as my gaze wondered from your eyes, down to you moving lips, i couldn't help myself.

I couldn't help but imagine how those delicate lips would feel around me. How those innocent eyes would look as they were all glossed over with tears as a pout sat perfectly on your face. All for me to ruin.

I nodded my head and let out affirmative words to not raise anysuspicions from you that I wasn't paying full attention.

I was pulled from my thoughts as I heard chatter amongst students in my classroom. I sucked in a sharp breath and hesitantly removed my eyes from you. Sometimes when I'm with you, it feels as if the the whole world fades away. As if I'm not stuck in my career as an English teacher, having to teach a class full of students who I couldn't care less about.

I wish it were just the two of us. A fantasy that I catch myself day dreaming about frequently. To have you secluded from society and the only source of outside information being me. To have you completely dependent on me. I wouldn't have to deal with sharing you with other people, or get distracted from you.

The dismissal bell rang and everyone rose from their seats and made their way to the door. You gathered your notebooks and pencil and shoved them into your backpack.

You and I made eye contact. It was only brief but it felt like a life time to me. Naturally, I was already staring at you to begin with. You seemed to notice this.

"See you tomorrow Mx. (Y/I/n)" | said softly.

You gave a beaming smile that I swear made my heart skip a few beats.

I never let my eyes leave your form until you were out of view. I propped my head up with my hand on my desk and breathed out raspy a sigh. I stared at my computer as my mind raced with the thought of you.

Then a horrible thought came to mind.

I hurriedly opened my browser and clicked open a new tab. A smirk started to tug at my lips as I navigated through the teacher access center. Why haven't I thought of doing this before?

I typed in your name and found your school profile. Everything I could have ever needed lay right at my fingertips. I smile deviously at the glowing screen of the laptop. I pull out a sticky note and a pen and jotted down the information I needed.

The day dragged on for what seemed like ages. Then, the final bell rang. I gathered my things and headed out to my car, eager to get home to set my plan in motion.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The car engine quiets down as the car comes to a complete stop.

I turned the key in the ignition to shut off the humming engine. The lights in the vehicle start to fade out as I'm left in the dark, alone with my thoughts.

Anxiety and excitement ran rampant through my veins. My fists curled tightly around the steering wheel as I took a deep breath. I can't believe I was actually going through with this.

I quietly closed the car door as I stepped out. The cold air snipped at my face, making me wince. I shoved my hands into my jacket pocket as I made my way to looming house in front of me.

AHHH thank you all so much for all the love on my first post it means a lot!!

Also, face claim for Mr. Roth: Jeffery Dean Morgan my beloved

Please feel free to give me constructive criticism on my writing so I can further improve in the future :3

[willescrisis]

Wille's Crisis : an essay about Kris (1934) and Young Royals (2021)

While watching Young Royals’ third season, I couldn’t get Karin Boye’s novel Kris out of my head.  As a fan of Young Royals that feels very chill and very normal about it, I have hence written a five page brain-dump on how Malin Forst and Wilhelm’s characters and worlds are intertwined.  (Small disclamers : I’m quoting Amanda Doxtater’s 2020 english translation of the novel and I’m french-canadian, so english is my second language.)

Who is Karin Boye ? 

Karin Boye (1900-1940) was a leading figure in Swedish modernist literature and poetry. In 1920, at the age of 20, she studied one year in Stockholm to become a primary school teacher and after graduation, continued teaching, writing, militant engagement and several years of study in related fields. Among all of her works, the most explicitly autobiographical is her autofictive novel Kris (1934).  This powerful novel explores the homosexuality and crisis of religious faith of a young woman named Malin Forst.

Malin Forst & Wilhelm

During her studies in teaching, Karin’s 20-years-old alter-ego Malin goes through an existential crisis. She feels completely paralyzed by her guilt due to her selfish inaction in the face of universal suffering, her lack of trust in institutions (educational, medical, etc.) and, worst of all, her doubts about her relationship with God. Kris also deals with Malin’s relationship to her own sexuality with the meeting of a classmate, Siv, to whom she will become passionately obsessed without ever talking to her.

We meet 16-years-old Wilhelm as a first year student at Hillerska. His failures as a royal figure and his complicated relationships to his loved ones make him feel powerless and guilty. He is thrown off balance by his doubts of the monarchic system, but most importantly, by his doubts of his life’s role model, Erik. Young Royals also deals with Wilhelm’s relationship to his own sexuality with the meeting of a classmate, Simon… Are we seeing the parallels here ?

While Malin’s torments lead her to shut down, Wilhelm screams. But both feel paralysed and don’t know how to exist out of the system they grew up in. And it’s the meeting of a same-sex student that leads them to a freer path.

« I want to see Siv. I want to be where Siv is. » 

Previously, Malin considered the fusion of the will of the human with the will of God to be the most important of aspirations. Without this reference point, she has no will nor desire… until she meets another student, Siv. Her simple presence rekindles for the first time in the novel a desire, burning and forbidden: “I want to see Siv. I want to be where Siv is.” … And here is how this whole essay has come to exist. While watching season three, I joked endearingly with my friends about the way that Wille’s only hobby is to be with Simon, but I felt sad for him. Until I understood he’s on the first part of his self-discovery journey. His first true desire that stems from inside of him and wasn’t imposed by the system is “I want to see Simon. I want to be where Simon is.” 

Interestingly enough, Siv and Simon both become a new manifestation of something that Malin and Wilhelm have lost. We, the reader, meet Malin when she is ‘grieving’ her old relationship to God and deconstructing her understanding of God as a single entity. Amazed by Siv’s ‘perfection’, Malin raises her to a kind of divine position with great powers.  Wilhelm, for his part, feels at home with Simon because of the way he makes Wilhelm’s entire being comes alive, weightless and playful… A feeling of joy, innocence and safety he’s only ever felt with Erik before. 

Anxious and desperate, Malin and Wilhelm are latching to their comfort person, making them their whole word in a way that has to change for them to grow up. After realizing Siv’s feeling for a fellow male classmate, Malin is shaken : “Only now could she see that she had embarken upon the false path of mistaking a person for what is highest and most beautiful.” Not only does this quote mirror Wilhelm letting go of his idealised conception of Erik, it is also mirrorring his realisation that Simon is not a perfectly stable and unbreakable anchor on which he can blindly rely on : “I have to take responsibilities for my own problem. I can’t drag him down with me.”

Don’t give it a name

An important part of Malin’s journey is relinquishing the power she gives to words, especially regarding God and her sexuality.  Throughout the novel, she refuses to name the emotion she feels for Siv. On the day of her meeting with Siv, Malin thinks:   “You, lips, I implore you to clamp so hard upon the unsayable, that not a word slips out to assert its malicious pettiness and obfuscation ! Be still, thoughts, don’t interrupt, for you have no idea what this is ! (...) Don’t give it a name, let it be just as it is, here in my blood and my eyes, life and sap ! The wonder of new creation need not be named.” 

Wilhelm’s complicated relationship to words is shown in the way that he shouts his love for Simon from every rooftop, but does not wish to label his sexual orientation. In season three, he says the word queer for the first time and his voice is seeped with discomfort. He is not claiming this word as part of his identity and rather feels constricted by it, probably in the same way that every other label put on him has made him suffocate.

Furthermore, both Malin and Wilhelm wish to express themselves and experience the world, not through the restrictive lens of language, but through the sensory world. In Kris, after seeing Siv for the first time, Malin’s five senses awaken. A dialogue takes place between the sense of sight and hearing, reminding me of the way that Wilhelm and Simon’s intimacy is developped through the gentle touch of noses, the sounds of breathing, the glow of golden light and fingers lingering slightly above the other’s body… ‘Sight’ says “I’m confused. I no longer know whether I am sight or not. I envelop things and follow them as if I were touch, I hold my breath in quiet anticipation as if I were hearing, I breathe in, like one intoxicated, as if I were smell, and I drink in long, deep, draughts as if I were taste. (...) Could I be standing at threshold of some new creation ?” To which ‘hearing’ responds “ (...) Admit it - isn’t  revelation through the senses at the same time the revelation of what lies beyond the senses, of what creates the senses, of the limitless feelings of eternal love ? (...)” 

Checkmate

Kris’s narration drastically changes points of view in unexpected moments, moving from the pov of human characters to the pov of abstract entities. The two most important are BLACK and WHITE, two sources of cosmic powers playing a chess game whose game board is humanity. 

On the one hand, WHITE represents the norm, also illustrated by threats from nature such as stormy and dangerous waters, cold, humidity and darkness, but also under the traits of the dominant society, whose rules and norms protect human beings while maintaining them in a position of submission and obedience.  WHITE uses the anxious desire of his pawns (humans) as a weapon to subject them to the norm. And at first, Wille is WHITE’s perfect pawn : an anxious mess who becomes more and more obediant as season three progresses and whose ‘protectors’ are also the ones leading to his demise. Little (most likely accidental) nods to that parralel : Wille looses to Alexander while playing the white pieces in season two and interrupts his conversation with Simon to scream “The water is cold today !” at his guards on their first date.

One the other hand, BLACK is a chaotic power of life associated with desire, burning fire and passion destabilizing the established order. In the context of Kris, the norm is heterosexuality, while fire is the forbidden desire: homosexuality.  This parallel is evident when Malin describes in this way the physical sensations caused by Siv’s sight: “There was no holy, burning voice within her. All that burned within her was a thirst for the forbidden after a single look cast in that direction”  And based on that, I absolutely refuse to believe that Lisa put the hallway scene after a BONFIRE by accident. 

I also don’t think the placement of the chess game during August’s confession to his friends is a coincidence. First, the board is oriented in a way where August sits at the junction between the black and white pieces, showcasing how the character is in a crucial moment in his journey : will he stay in WHITE’s cruches for ever or will he find the strenght to save himself ? And second, August puts a black king on the edge of the table. Not only does it foreshadow that Kronprins Wille is on his way out, it also indicates that it was a rebel and homosexual ‘power’ that guided him in his quest for self-determination, just as it was for Malin Forst. 

I natt gick Gud under or how to make the lake scene destroy me even more

The poem in prose I natt gick Gud under (Last night God succumbed) stands out from the other chapters of the novel Kris, as it recounts the most decisive transformation of the main character Malin Forst.  BLACK places Malin naked and at peace on the shore of a sea where she throws the words she denies. Finally at a safe distance from WHITE’s icy waters, she liberates herself from her paralysis to embrace her true feelings.

Last night God succumbed. 

Perhaps it was just the hollow shell of name that went under.

But that shell of a name drew with it the power of death. I cast it off. 

I see objects as they are, unwitting of the name attributed to them. I cast off their names. 

I stand utterly new, on the shore of a sea. Conscience is no longer mine. I cast it off.

The will to life has made me naked. The will to life has made me see. I shall meet whatever comes with naked, open eyes. 

Lisa describes the lake scene as almost religious. As he’s swimming naked in the lake, Wilhelm is shedding his crown prince shell. Leaving the waters, he is reborn.  When he is standing on the shore of the lake in his white clothes, Lisa says “that is when Wilhelm grows up.”  And for me, he’s ready to meet whatever comes with naked, open eyes. 

Thank you ! Thank you to whoever read this far. Kris is a very complex book that, despite having read twice, I still don’t fully understand, so if you have anything new to add to this reflection, you are welcome to do so !

[probablyasocialecologist]

While the agricultural revolution based on the Norfolk four-course system significantly increased the production of wheat, peasants lost access to common lands and forests, where they used to raise pigs with acorns, collect mushrooms, woods and fruits, and catch birds. Living in the countryside, they also had access to the river to catch fish and for fresh water. Now driven into the city, they almost completely lost access to such natural wealth and could consume much less meat. Even if they remained in the countryside, their previous daily activities in the commons were now criminalized as acts of trespass and theft. Furthermore, enclosure concentrated lands in the hands of fewer capitalist farmers. As they hired peasants only during the busy season and fired them thereafter, the farming villages disappeared, and the small vegetable gardens maintained by the villagers ceased to provide fresh vegetables for their dinner tables. As it was no longer clear by whom and how the vegetables sold in the market were grown – they might, for example, be smeared with excreta of cattle and poultry – they became inedible without cooking, and fresh salads disappeared from the menu.

In addition, all family members had to work in the factories to make a living in the city. The loss of access to the commons significantly increased the financial burden on households because now they had to buy their means of subsistence from the market. They began working in factories from an early age, so children were not able to attend school. They could not acquire basic cooking skills at home or during the festivals and ceremonies of the farming villages, where they were served free and luxurious meals. Even if they acquired and maintained some cooking skills, working-class families in the city were no longer able to buy expensive meat and other ingredients but only the cheap potatoes that were sold on the street. Consequently, the traditional English recipes based on ingredients available to the rural villages became useless for working-class families living in the large cities.

Kohei Saito, Marx in the Anthropocene: Towards the Idea of Degrowth Communism

[etirabys]

Apologies if this is personal and you don't want to answer (or you don't want to answer for any other reason!); if that is the case no worries. But anyway by virtue of the fact that I am (sort of) a linguist I often get curious about people's language situation. You speak English obviously but spent your childhood in Korea, and often went to the English language book store while there? What is like, your personal linguistic history? Like, what language(s) did you grow up speaking, which ones did you learn later and when, etc? How fluent do you consider yourself in both English and Korean? If you don't mind my asking.

Haha, this is a dream scenario for me (someone asking about a situation I find fascinating about myself because I've never met anyone else with that background, but is probably boring to most people). Here's a longer story than you probably want:

My parents emigrated to the US before I was born, stayed for a decade, and moved back to Korea right after I was born. They're conversational in English, and my sister (12 years my elder) is fluent. Speaking English is valuable in Korea, so they raised me to be bilingual. They taught me the alphabet, bought me English language children's books, and sent me to an English language school run by Christian missionaries for preschool, kindergarten, and part of first grade.

My sister left the country when I was three to go to a boarding school in the US, but she came back every year for holidays, spoke exclusively in English to me, and refused to let the conversation move on if I mispronounced a word.

When I was six, my parents moved further away from the missionaries' school and switched me to a neighborhood public elementary school. At this point I was mildly more fluent in English than in Korean. Reading (English books) was a self-sustaining reaction I spent every free hour on. There were fewer interesting Korean books for children. Korea had industrialized ~30 years prior, and the hangeul writing system had only been in full use ~50 years at that point. As far as I knew, there was no CS Lewis of Korea, no Tolkien, no Diana Wynne Jones. In Korean bookstores, many of the prominent books on display were translated – The Little Prince was popular for children, and there was a children's fiction fad around another French author (who afaik never made a splash in the States) whose name I forget.

So I'm reading like 10 hours a day, at the dinner table, on the escalator when my mom takes me while she's shopping, sometimes under the desk at school flipping the pages with my toes, because the teachers don't care. (This is a huge W as far as I'm concerned for Korea – public school teaching is a somewhat competitive and standardized government job, it attracts people who lack great passion for either teaching or controlling children.) Meanwhile my peers don't like me much because my vibes are rancid: I have a compulsive laugh tic I haven't gotten under control, and I don't seem to understand their preferences very well or actively seek to understand them. Fair enough. I have one friend at any given time and she's usually on the fence about me.

When I'm old enough to take the train on my own, some weekends my mom gives me 5000 won for the train ticket + lunch, and I go into Seoul to visit one bookstore that has a 10-shelf English section. I pick a book, spend the day finishing it, and go home. Instead of my English language skills lapsing and being overtaken by the language I'm immersed in, I'm going deeper into English. Which increased the disconnect between me and my peers. I remember overhearing a conversation about an anime (The Black Cat) and eagerly asking if they'd also read the Edgar Allen Poe short story. I wanted to much to talk about shared interests, but it didn't occur to me to "invite myself into their interests" by picking up the manga they talked about.

...this all made my childhood weird in ways that have shaped me hugely but are difficult to describe. I was isolated and not, happy and not, stimulated and not, developing unevenly...

At eleven I discover fanfiction.net, probably one of the most impactful events of my life. I'm running out of physical books, I've read everything five or ten times, but then the computer! has made a deal with me! It contains INFINITE LITERATURE, although sometimes people seemed to misspell things on purpose and I didn't know why. (I had, approximately, never encountered misspellings in written material before.) In return the internet would take MY SOUL FOREVER although I didn't realize this at the time. I post a 100K Harry Potter epic over the next year where Harry is trained by a special assassin cult that lives under a mountain.

My parents have no idea what is on the internet. They're on a new temporal continent with no clue there's a parasite that can turn your daughter into a fujoshi. They do know that they have a worrying child. But! Her grades are really good, especially when she's testing in English. Good enough that although they originally intended not to send me to the US (my sister got depressed and burned out, and they attributed it to sending her to a different country for school), it made much more sense for me to go. I was on track to get a full ride at an Ivy, a carrot they were Not Immune to, and I obviously despised Korea and wanted to leave.

When I arrived in the States, I was terrified of speaking English to real native speakers. My language experience was "reading/writing: 95% English, speaking/listening: 90% Korean". I could perfectly pronounce any English sentence when I tried, but I'd occasionally and bizarrely mix up R and L, or the vowel sounds "ih" and "eeh" if I weren't paying attention. This went away after a year but I felt extra shy and didn't talk much. I'd guess 80% of my social cachet in freshman year came from writing funny Facebook posts.

I remember my time in Korea without feeling bothered by any single aspect, but overall I still have a big sense of "wow I didn't like that", have avoided non-Americanized Korean people since getting here (ten years ago), and now speak Korean haltingly. I'll try to teach it to my children so that they have the option of that cultural connection, but I don't think I can do a good job. It's feels 90% true thinking/speaking Korean is just a normal skill, a thing I do sometimes on the phone – and 10% true that the happier and more whole I become in the US, the more unsettling it feels to speak Korean at all.

[mercedesvince]

Can you do Scott pilgrim x male reader that mainly uses ASL to communicate <33

Scott Pilgrim x M. Deaf Reader

“Please”

The italicized text is ASL

You felt your pen glide across the texture of the paper. Looking back up at your computer screen you continued copying down your notes. Laying your pen back down, you returned your hands to your key board and continued typing on the google doc.

Even though growing up you had a tough time in school with your condition, you still wanted to peruse a degree in [subject of your choice]. Your relationship with the public school system was never the best. Having to learn to translate ASL to written english never proved easy, on top of that your school required you to take a foreign language class. It was a lot, but you managed, and now you’re set on earning your degree.

Lost in your thoughts as you worked on your notes, you missed the door to your shared apartment opening. You also happened to miss your boyfriend slowly creeping up behind you. Sitting at your desk, your back completely turned to entrance, you were scared out of your mind when you felt a sudden grab on your shoulders. Your body jolted up, turning around in an instant only to come face to face with Scott. You let out a sigh of relief, before slightly slapping his shoulder. “You scared me”, you signed to him. Scott looked at you for a moment, before slowly raising his hand, “Please”. You looked at him confused for a second, then you realized he meant to say ‘i’m sorry’. You reached out and grabbed his hand, a gesture that had becomes common, and showed him the correct movement. “Ohhh” he said. “That one was please wasn’t it?” you nodded at Scott smiling. You weren’t the best at reading lips, but you were probably better than the average person.

Still, it’s like people expect you to be some type of god skilled level lip reader, but fortunately for you, you never had that problem with Scott. That was one of the main reasons you fell for the guy in the first place, as much of a himbo as he can be, he took time to learn some ASL for you, he didn’t expect you to immediately be able to understand everything he said by reading his lips, and he treated you like just as much of a person as everyone else.

Scott looked over at the laptop, “What are you working on?”. You glanced back at your screen letting out a tired sigh, “Just a paper that’s due at the end of the week”. Scott nodded, a few seconds passed before Scott grabbed your hands, pulling you up from your chair. He pulled you towards the door, grabbing your coat off the small hangers you guys had and passing it to you. You raised an eyebrow at him, he turned to face you. “You said your papers due at the end of the week,” he smiled at you before continuing. “I have show tonight, but maybe we could hang out and spend time together before it,” he signed. “Plus, you need a break”.

Shaking your head at Scott, you put on your coat “Alright Scott, let’s go”. He seemed to gleam with joy at your agreement. Basically hauling you out of the apartment.

——————————————————————

You both looked at the comic variety in front of you. Scott had a few CDs in his hand, as he had taken you to your local record and comic store. You had been looking at the comic section for a while now, trying to make a decision on what would be your next read. Scott had appeared by your side, joining you in your search for a good comic. He raised his hand and pointed at one, “This one’s really good, when I lived with Wallace, I stole from his collection”. Letting out a light laugh, you looked back up in the shelf, he was pointing to a ‘Doom Patrol’ one. You reached out and picked it off the shelf, tuning it around to read the summary. You turned your gaze at Scoot once again, you nodded and saw his face light up in a smile.

You could never get enough of this man, his contagious smile, his cute eyes, his hair, everything. You grabbed his hand and the both of you made your way up to the cash register to check out. “That will be $55.76,” the guy at the register said, he looked like some edgy teen who didn’t wanna be there. He was probably your least favourite employee, he wasn’t mean or anything, but the girl who always smiled at you guys that also worked there was just better. You had pulled out your wallet, about to pay, but you missed the number the guy had said. He looked at you expectantly. Hoping he would get the hint to repeat himself, you stared at at him. In a few seconds, he gave you weird look.

Before you could even do anything else, Scott smacked the money on the counter. The kid looked taken aback a bit, before picking it up. Handing him his change and the bag with your things in it, you guys made your way to the exit. Outside the shop you stopped walking. “You didn’t have to do that”. Scott looked at you, his eyes slightly widening before his expression fell back into a smile. “I know, but I was planning on paying anyway”. Again with that contagious smile, you couldn’t help as one slowly grew on your face. “Thanks” you told him. “No problem [nick name]”. You both turned and began walking back toward your home, in hopes of burning some time while you waited for Scott’s showtime to pull around. Hand in hand, you leaned your head against Scott. He took a glance at you, before letting out a quiet “I love you [name],” under his breath.

[brotherblaze]

lemon shark —kuroo tetsurō

—summary: When you admit to quitting your high school club, Kuroo pauses, takes the decision in, and recalibrates his stance. He doesn't understand quitting like that but it's okay, you'll figure it out together. He'll always have your back, just as you'll always have his.

—cw: none

—wc: 1,9k

AO3 version

He finds you where always does when you’re not home and there are no other pressing responsibilities: the arcade.

“You’re going to develop carpal tunnel like that,” Kuroo says, peering at the backglass of the pinball machine over your shoulder. Half of it is an incomprehensible mess of a ruined city skyline with a tall figure standing at the forefront, a gun in his hand. It’s very pointedly not the backglass of a pinball machine. Or maybe the nigh-incomprehensible art there and on the sides is a feature, not a bug. The score on the display board on the bottom of the backglass keeps ticking up. He can hear the pinball in the machine dashing up and down, bang against the obstacles littered on the map, and the flippers at the bottom.

“No, I’m only moving my fingers.” You don’t look at him, stare at the pinball in the machine, press the buttons on the sides to make the flippers jump. The pinball bangs against one and is sent catapulting back into the playfield.

Kuroo steps around you and stops next to the machine — he knows better than to lean against it. His hands are buried in his denim jacket pockets. The pinball isn’t overly difficult to follow but he still gets thrown for a loop every now and then when it ricochets off one of the bumpers underneath the glass in an unexpected direction.

It’s really no surprise you’re this good at pinball. With the amount of time you spend in this place, he’d expect you to be able to clean out the shelves of cheaply-made toys and weird little useless gadgets with ease. Regular arcades are fun, he’ll admit it, but this one, American in style with its ticket system some hail as a scam (and claw machines with butterfinger claws that are definitely a scam to boot), he doesn’t see the appeal in this specific arcade.

Somehow, you do.

The pinball in the machine drops. The lights on the machine blink rapidly.

“What are you doing here, anyway? Don’t you have practice today?” You pat down your pants’ pockets for the points card and swipe it through the machine.

Kuroo raises his brows. “It’s 7:30.”

“What? No, it’s not.” The argument is immediately on your tongue because it isn’t 7:30 PM. That’s impossible.

He pulls one hand from his jacket pocket, presses the power button on the side of his phone, and turns the screen to face you. 7:36 PM.

“Oh.”

Kuroo glances at his phone screen, then slides the device back into his pocket. “How long have you been here?”

You shrug. “Like… 11.” You look away from him, opt to stare at the painted side panel of the pinball machine. It depicts one long white hot lightning strike with a blue aura. Yeah, there’s absolutely no way this frame was originally for this specific pinball game.

When you look up, he’s narrowed his eyes at you, lips tilted into a frown. It’s that look he gives a particularly difficult English homework task. Analyzing. Solution-oriented. “So, what, you skipped swim practice?” Because he knows how long those run. He knows when and where and how and who. It’s embedded into and around his own club schedule.

“I quit, actually. Yesterday.”

You raise your gaze to meet his, hold it, wait for his reaction.

Kuroo’s face spasms, fleeting expressions cycling so goddamned clearly until he pulls himself together, and puts up a nonchalant facade. His brow twitches and his expression morphs just slightly, finally settling on neutral. It’s almost eerie. He pulls his gaze from you, lets it drop to the pinball machine side panel as if he’s processing or looking for the right words to continue, then looks up at you again.

“Why?”

It’s a measured response. His voice is carefully neutral.

You tilt your head to the side, look over his shoulder at the distance, then tilt it to the other side, stare at the claw machine behind him. Your mind races, thoughts colliding and avoiding collision by near-misses, traveling parallel to each other, splitting at intersections. Possible outcomes on top of outcomes race with them, anything and everything from a prolonged lecture on the importance of perseverance, to disappointed resignation, to quiet acceptance. All of them horrible in their own way.

You settle on a half-truth with a shrug of your shoulders. “Got boring.” You don’t want to see his expression morph into the outcome of his choosing and turn away from him, scan the room for one more victim to acquire enough tickets for the top-shelf prize at the prize counter. “Quit while you’re ahead, or whatever they say.” A victim appears; a lone Street Fighter copycat game tucked right by said prize counter.

Kuroo falls into step with you. “That’s for risky stuff.”

“Like?”

“I don’t know, the stock market.”

“What do you know about the stock market, Romeo?”

You dare a glance at him from the corner of your eye but his expression remains carefully blank. It would be infuriating with anyone else. But Kuroo knows how to read people, how to play to their strengths, what to say and what not to say. You think you can read him well enough; he’s keeping his composure neutral to probe your thoughts and/or feelings on the subject so he's able to give the most effective response. It's almost clinical. The thought leaves a sour taste in your mouth.

He positions himself next to you but he doesn’t take up the player 2 slot on the arcade game. You don’t comment on it and hit play.

Your character dashes, jumps, kicks.

The opponent A.I. dodges, jumps, dies.

The game screen flashes GAME OVER in large blocky letters. You swipe the points card, cross your fingers, and saunter up to the prize counter.

You have an abundance of points, it turns out. The woman behind the desk grabs a hook on a stick and with the help of a step stool, pulls a yellow shark plush down from the high shelf. You point to a small raccoon plushie keychain to drain the rest of your acquired points.

Kuroo stares at the bright yellow shark plushie. Its eyes are embroidered hearts filled in with glittering thread. Its felt teeth are bent. “That’s the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen,” he lies. “It’s a horrifying monstrosity; you could get a better one from IKEA.”

“As per usual you have no taste.” You turn the large plush in your hands and tap the pad of your finger against the glittering eye. No residual glitter catches to your skin. “Well, since you hate this, you wouldn’t happen to want the raccoon, either, huh?”

“Never said that.” He holds his hand out, palm up and you place the small gray and brown raccoon into his waiting hand. He lifts it to eye level, stares back at its large vacant acrylic eyes.

“C’mon,” you jerk your head towards the exit, “you can continue gazing into each other’s eyes soulfully on the way home.”

The summer evening air is slowly cooling as the sun sets. Its orange rays glint off the skyscraper windows.

Rush hour draws to a close and the crowds on the train ease up. You manage to snag two seats near the front of the train as an old couple disembarks.

Your newest companion is sandwiched between your neck and the window, its face pressed flat against the glass. You angle your body slightly so its first dorsal fin is pressed against your throat, your knees pressed against Kuroo’s.

Kuroo spends the ride scrolling through social media. Every now and then he swaps apps, texts someone. You catch Kenma’s picture at the top of the messages. Another time you catch sight of the picture for the volleyball team’s group chat.

It’s hard to lean your head back against the cool window, the best you can do with the shark propped behind your head is turn your face towards Kuroo. It gives you the perfect angle to stare at his profile. He’s slightly slouched, shoulders lax. His posture straightens ever so slightly, jaw tensing, brow creasing. His fingers fly across the screen to type out a response in the group chat with you, him, Yaku, and Kai.

You let your eyes wander his face, the curve of his nose and his lips to —

To the thin scar running along the slope of his cheekbone.

“What?” he asks then, looking up from his phone. He locks and pockets it. You tap on your cheek where his scar is. “Does it bother you?” he asks.

“Sometimes.” Because it does. Sometimes.

“As far as first meetings go, it’s probably on the more interesting end of the scale.”

“You’re the one who yanked me from behind.” Because he did.

“Would you have preferred death by way of a moving vehicle?”

You roll your eyes playfully and look away as you always do when he brings that up. Sure, it’s the logical conclusion to you literally trying to run into oncoming traffic way back then; but that doesn’t mean he needs to say it out loud. He doesn’t. It’s the logical conclusion.

“Yeah, well, what a story to tell your grandkids in 60 years.”

You peel yourselves from the seats once your stop arrives and you tuck the shark under your arm. Kuroo keeps to the road side on the sidewalk. The crowds grow even more scarce as your street comes into view.

You pass Kenma’s house; the blinds aren’t drawn and you can faintly see the glow of the TV from Kenma’s room. The lights in Kuroo’s house are on. Some houses on the street are completely dark, others completely alight. There’s a window cracked open somewhere, broadcasting a football match.

You pause in front of your gate, almost at the end of the street, and make no move to cross the threshold.

“I got half the family sicced on me because they’re not fans of me quitting, y’know? Word travels fast.” You stare at the lit living room window obscured by a cream-colored blind. “Somehow they’d gotten it into their heads that I was going to go to the Olympics and now they’re…”

“Pissed?”

“That’s putting it lightly. Pissed and everything else under the Sun.” You purse your lips. “Probably gonna hear how I wasted my Olympic potential for the rest of eternity. I think they’re delusional for thinking I could ever make it that far.”

There’s a lull in the conversation. Birds swoop down from the sky, land on the power lines draped above your heads.

“You wanna stay over tonight?” Kuroo asks, jerking his head in the direction of his house. “Dad’s making pancakes first thing in the morning.”

You shake your head with a small smile. “Thanks, but I might as well get lecture number three million about how I can ‘still save my Olympic career’ over with. Good night.”

“Night.”

Kuroo lingers by the gate as you step through and take the short cobblestone path up to the house. He watches you pause at the door before you slot your keys in and throw it open. Still, he stands there as the door closes and stares at your bedroom window. It doesn’t take long before there’s movement, the blinds being rolled down and the lights turning on.

Only then does he take off towards his own house, clutching the raccoon keychain in his pocket.

part 2

divider by @/kafekitsune

[matan4il]

Daily update post:

Today, two Palestinian terrorists from the city of Hevron had carried out a combined, multi-scene terrorist attack in the city of Ra'anana, killing one woman in her 70's and wounding at least 17 more people. The exact details are still being investigated, but the two terrorists are said to be from one family, 24 and 44 years old, they were denied a work permit in Israel due to terrorist activity in the past, but someone in Ra'anana agreed to hire them illegally. They have both been arrested. The combined method they used was a stabbing and vehicular terrorist attack, they stabbed people, stole the first car, used it to run people over until they crashed it, then they stole a second, then a third car, and continued ramming into people across several streets, before they were stopped. 7 of the injured are reportedly kids, and at least 3 are seriously wounded.

As 136 hostages are still held captive in Gaza, 100 days after Oct 7, we got some data on the treatment of those released roughly 50 days ago: 85 are still under a nurse's supervision, 2 are still hospitalized, 54 are receiving mental health treatment of one type or another, only 18 have returned home, all the rest are still displaced, out of 40 kidnapped kids, 38 were released, but only 21 have returned to the education system, some in their own schools, some in schools improvised for their evacuated community.

In Turkey, an Israeli soccer player, Sagiv Jehezkel, who plays for a local team, scored a goal for it, and raised his hand, revealing to the cameras that on his bandage, he wrote "100 days," drew the Star of David, and added the date of Oct 7. It's obviously a gesture to the Israeli victims of Hamas, the ones murdered during or hurt by the massacre, and the ones still held in captivity.

For this, Sagiv was condemned by the Turkish Football Association, suspended from his team, which annoounced he'd be fired, and then he was ARRESTED and interrogated by Turkish police. For making a humane gesture to honor his country's victims. This is how Sagiv was portrayed in an antisemitic Turkish cartoon, with blood dripping from his lips, evoking the antisemitic image of the Jews who feed on the blood of non-Jewish kids:

Sagiv has been released after an appearance at court, and flown back to Israel immediately, but the head of the Israel Football Association said they're still worried for 2 more Israeli soccer players and 2 Israeli basketballers, who are currently playing for Turkish teams.

Shabak, the Israeli equivalent of the FBI (also sometimes referred to in English as Shin Beit), has confirmed today that Iran is operating social media platforms in Israel, that allow it to harass the families of the Israeli hostages, and Israeli security forces (for example, by exposing their addresses, or sending them flower bouquets with offensive messages). The Islamist regime of Iran is also using these to collect from surveys personal info on Israeli citizens.

I wanna share with you this screenshot from the article, as a reminder that just because someone says online that they're Jewish, or puts "Jewish" in their account name, doesn't make it so.

The chief rabbi of South Africa, Rabbi Warren Goldstein, in protest of his country's decision to file a false lawsuit against Israel at the International Court of Justice, has changed the customary prayer for the well being of the country. He said: "This government is on the wrong side of history. Its support of Iran and its proxies - Hamas and Hezbollah - encourages a global Jihad,and harms Jews and innocent people worldwide. It's impossible to pray for such a government."

This is 36 years old Osama Abu Assa.

He was a Bedouin, from the village of Tel Sheva. On Oct 7, he was at the Nova music festival, and one of about 367 people who were murdered there. I got to hear several people talking about what a huge heart Osama had, how he was all about giving to others and helping people. May his memory be a blessing.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[marrrrss]

dad! Voight x Kid! Reader request —

Voight has to deal with a traumatized kid he recently took under his care. Maybe he brings them to the department and they see someone/something that freaks them out so he calms them down <3

♡ no pressure. you don't have to do it if you don't want to.

Next time call me kiddo

Dad! Hank Voight x Kid! Reader

Fluff

Summary: request

TW: kid has some traumas pills, drugs, alcohol (mentioned)

Writers note: did a minor minor tiny tiny change to the request. Enjoy!

Word count: 1306 words

**english's not my first language**

(Gift's not mine)

Y/n. A teen that was found by the intelligence team of Hank Voight during a case. Drugged and beaten up by her parents. Addicted to pills and alcohol. Since a small toddler watching the parents drugged as hell and the dad beating mom. The dad got busted by his drug deal buddies and the mom went in with him due to being into the drug deal with him. Love in sickness and in health and drug deals.

The interrogation of the dad made Hank's blood boil. Not literal.

"you know y/n is going into the system right? You and your lady will die in a room smaller than this" the agent says with his rough voice pointing around the interrogation room

"y/n was supposed to never happen. The kid drugs herself? Then what. It's on the family blood" the dad says with a grin making Hank's vision becomes red. Red with anger. It takes everything to not kill this guy in this interrogation room.

This was 4 months ago. Hank chose to take the kid in instead of seeing the kid going through the system and never getting out or getting the help y/n needs. Or probably what would happen. Ending up in the streets getting the addiction worse.

For the past 5 months your life changed completely. School, rehab, therapy. Repeat. Even if you wanted to find anything around Hank's house nothing was around. Hank hide all the alcohol and medical pills to make sure no relapse would happen (of course not your mental health medication).

Hank became the family you never knew you had or deserved. He gave you a safe space , a shoulder to cry on and a group of people that care for you. More than you ever thought.

One evening you leave school earlier because one of your teachers got sick. Hank was supposed to go pick you up but as you left earlier you walked to the station that wasn't too far away.

Getting there you great Trudy and ask her if you can go up to intelligence which she with a "go on, and don't bother them!".

Entering intelligence you notice the space oddly quiet and empty. Getting further into the unit you see the border full of pictures of probably a case and you freeze when you see the photos of what you assume are the dead people on the case. Blood all over their face or Simply pale. Freaking out you get back downstairs and leave going home . 'why didn't I call him' goes Trought your mind as you walk back to Hank's home. 'Damnit I should have called or texted before appearing announced on the station'

As you enter the home, back in the station the team comes in from a case scene.

"Voight, Y/n came around" Trudy says as intelligence team enters the station

"what do you mean she came around?" Voight asks raising an eyebrow getting closer to the front desk

"she said one of her teachers got sick or whatever. She went upstairs but then left and without a word"

"did she say where she went? Wait she went upstairs?" Voight asks trying not to panic

" she didn't. And yeah she went upstairs to wait for you" Trudy asks now getting worried too

"damnit I'll be back" Voight says leaving again, now alone letting his team standing in the station entry looking at Trudy, questioning what's going on.

He knew you would be home. It was the only place you would be. As he parks the car in front of the house he rushes in, questioning if you say the case photos that he was working on.

"y/n!" He says getting inside the house, closing the door behind him.

As he turns to the living room he spots you looking blankly at the TV that was on in a random Chanel.

He knew that look.

The look of freaking out. Like he saw when he got you out of your parents house when they got busted. When he went to see you at the hospital after you got treated and he told you he wanted to take you in so you didn't go through the system . The look when you started taking your mental meds. The look when you were tempted to relapse. The look when you had the first nightmare in the house and he helped you calm down. The look when he got hurt on his hand on the job and you saw when he got home. The look that he hated seeing on you so much.

"hey" Hank says quietly as he sits next to you. "Teacher got sick uh?"

You nod slowly answering him yes.

There was a long pause before y/n says in a low and unstable voice "those people... The... Board on the station with uhm... The victims... Is the-" a big breath is taken "-do y'all have a lead on the killer?" The kid asks in a shaky voice. The images of people with shots in the head. Blood in their faces. Black eyes. Pale faces. Innocent people.

"we have a lead. The team is taking care of it. You could have called.... I had picked you up kiddo" voight was fighting not pulling you into a hug. Trying to give you space but the look on your face . The panic was killing him. "Next time call kiddo. I don't want you to see this things"

"I'm sorr-" your cut off by Hank "don't say you're sorry for fucks sake. You came in and saw it. It wasn't supposed to happen. So next time if you have a dead last period. Call me. I or someone else is gonna pick you up, ok?" The man says caressing your arm before pulling you into a hug.

You hug him back instantly. You felt safe there as you never did. It was still weird having someone carrying for you but you were committed to open up and letting him in. At the end of the day he took you in.

"thank you" "no need to thank me kiddo. I just don't want to see you like this again. You didn't drink or did something stupid, right?" Voight asks worrying you might have relapsed .

"no no. Promise I didn't" y/n says as they break the hug. "I didn't and I won't."

"alright I believe you. And I'll talk to your therapist to advance your appointment to this week instead of next week. Ok with you?"

"yeah- yeah.. thanks" y/n says looking down

"I need to go back to the station. I promise I'll close the case ok? The person who did it will pay" he says reassuring you the person who did it

"I know you will"

"will you be ok alone?" He asks getting up from the couch looking down on you.

Yeah I will, Thanks" y/n says looking up at voight

"When I leave the station and close the case I'll text you. And will bring take out for dinner. Any requests?"

"That burger place we like close to the station?" A hint on y/n face appearing. As a mirror it appears in Voights face.

"got it. The usual from that place. I'll go but please... Anything... Even just bugging me on work. Text or call."

"I will. I learned my lesson today." A chuckle excaped y/n lips as she says it.

"you sure did. See you at dinner, anything call me" Voight smirk smashed in his face. Y/n will be fine. He starts walking to the front door leaving .

He walks to his car still worried about you but he knew that getting that guy would make you ease a bit . Everything would be alright in the end of the day. It always did.

The End<3

[vaesbst]

The Academy for Soulless Dolls|| #1

╰┈➤ Synopsis; Mencià, a lifelong drifter through boarding schools, is thrust into the mysterious Rosethorn Academy, a haven for the elite. Eager to stay under the radar, her plans unravel when the school's most powerful heir becomes dangerously obsessed with her. As she uncovers dark secrets within the academy's shadowy halls, Mencià must protect her own secrets or risk being consumed by the sinister forces at play.

╰┈➤ Paring: Hyunjin x OC

╰┈➤ Genre: elite academy au, dark secrets, slow burn, angst, smut,fluff

╰┈➤ Warnings: explicit language, implied violence

╰┈➤ Word count: 5.1k

notes: this is the first fanfic I’ve ever written and english isn’t my first language so I apologise for any grammatical errors. The main protagonist is an OC I created, and she’s meant to be a darkskin black female but you’re more than welcome to picture her as yourself or anyone else you want. Please do leave me some feedback as I appreciate them all and they help me improve.

Mob mentality

-- also called herd or hive mentality -- is the inclination that some humans have to be part of a large group, often neglecting their individual feelings in the process, and adopting the behaviors and actions of the people around them.

                                                                                   ╔⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷╗

New beginnings are always scary- well at least that's what the average person would say if you asked them . Not many people are fond of change, some will even do the unthinkable to avoid it because, understandably so, it does open a vast door to the unknown and when individuals are used to a set routine, suddenly having to face and tackle something foreign will arise a sense of fight of flight in them.

But I can't say the same for me.

I'm walking through the vast opaque corridors of what's going to be my new home for the next year with my head ducked down, hiding away from the public and taking count of every step I'm making, attempting as much as possible to avoid the curious stares that I'm already receiving from the other students. I know it's weird to refer to a school as a "home" but coming from where I came, anywhere would be better than my actual in-house situation. My old school used to be my safe heaven. A place where i felt accepted and secure. A place where I felt like I could truly be myself and walk around the hallways without feeling much angst. It was great, until it wasn't. They turned on me so I had to flee in search of a new place to call home.

My dad wasn't too happy about me having to change schools in the middle of the year, as it would raise too many questions that he'd have to bury since he can't risk having his reputation ruined by a "trouble making" daughter. At least not now that's he's running for senator. So he did what he's been doing for the past 14 years. Found the best academy he could lock me up in for good.

This time he chose Rosethorn Academy for Gifted Kids, which I've heard lots about. Mainly regarding how it's a elite school where extremely rich entitled parents send their spoiled bratty kids to, so that they can get on with their luxurious lives without having to worry about them for a good year. But also about how they have developed an intricate housing system that is substantially similar to Hogwarts from Harry Potter which I'm sorta excited to see.

"Make sure your clothes are straightened and your hair is patted down adequately Mencìa, your aim is to leave a good impression" says my mum walking alongside me with her back as straight and rigid as a sugar cane, nose pointed up to the sky, strolling along this unfamiliar corridor like she owns the place.

Despite initially being a mere "commoner", my mother has gained a sense of superiority over her peers when my dad chose to marry her. She is aware that most of them bad mouth her behind her back, but she could not care less because in her words "only miserable people have the time to look down on others since they aren't satisfied with what life has given them, successful people are too busy capitalising off of their success". In some ways I do admire her confidence, but sometimes I do wonder whether she's just putting up a front.

Me and her have been walking for what seemed like hours before we reached the door of the headmaster's office. "Look at me for a second" my mother says grabbing my chin and tilting my head towards her.

"Ow ma! You're hurting me" i loudly whisper , trying to not gain attention from the other passer-by's as she keeps tilting my head in every direction, closely analysing my face to detect any imperfections.

"Like I said, leaving a good impression is key" she reminds me, "Plus, you look great today, though I wish you wore something a little bit more...professional? concise?" She admits whilst simultaneously looking down at my outfit: an oversized grey hoodie with a black Metallica graphic tee underneath, a jean skirt, white slouch socks and a pair of black healed Mary Jane's.

"I think it's a pretty average outfit ma" I defensively say since I literally don't see what's wrong with it, this is literally how I dress everyday. "Exactly." she reaffirms leaving me dumbfounded as she proceeds to knock on the door.

"COME IN!" shouts a feminine voice inside the office. As we walk inside we are welcomed by a tall, slim blonde woman, standing right next to her desk. She seems to be in her mid 50's.

"You must be Mencìa Natalia Cypress" she says looking at me and holding her hand out smiling. I took it, shaking it lightly, slightly intimidated by how intensely she's gazing at me. Almost as if she was trying to uncover my deepest darkest secrets which made me wonder what she could already know about me.

"And you must be Amethyst VonDée, her guardian" she says while shaking hands with my mother

"Yes correct, it's nice to finally meet you Mrs Peregrine" she smiles, looking at her up and down whilst still maintaining a sense of elegance in her greet, which Mrs Peregrine seems to be slightly taken aback by, but she manages to quickly compose herself and greets her with the same intesity, "The pleasure is mine, why don't we all take a sit and chat for a bit" she says, guiding her hands towards the two cushioned chairs in front of her chestnut desk.

Me and my mother gladly take our sits and Mrs Peregrine joins us shortly after. "So Miss Cypress, what I have here in front of me is your curriculum from your other school" she informs us, "and by giving it a quick scan I would like to say that it's relatively impressive!" She adds, "You have an A in pretty much every subject- except for PE but we can work on that. Plus, we only look at academic subjects here and not really physical" she smiles at me reassuringly.

"Though a C isn't a bad grade so you don't have much to worry about, but..." she shifts her gaze from her computer screen to me, staring at me with so much intensity that it made me shake on my sit, anxiously waiting for the next words that were about to come out of her mouth.

"I just wanted to inform you that we do not tolerate any type misconduct here at Rosethorn" the tone of her voice changed, suddenly sounding a lot more stricter and colder, a juxtaposition of her initial sweet and reassuring voice.

My heart drops at the reminder of the past occurrences in my old school. I wanted a fresh start. I wanted to move on so badly and get away from it all. I tried forgetting every instance that had happen for my own sake, but it seems like this situation will forever keep haunting me.

"My husband has already taken care of it Mrs Peregrine so it shouldn't be an issue" my mother intervenes, probably sensing my discomfort, "Plus I am aware that he has left a rather large donation to prevent this topic from coming up again, was it not large enough? Should i refer it to him?" she adds, smugly looking at the headmaster with her head high.

I witness firsthand the colour of her face completely draining as she started frantically coughing, "No *cough* no need to result to such drastic measures, I just wanted to..." she pauses and looks at me with a tight smile "..tell Mencìa about how the academy works. I was not referring to anything in particular" she awkwardly laughs and diverts her gaze back to her computer screen.

"Shall we move onto sorting out the house you will be part of?" she utters, clapping her hands together.

I swiftly look at my mother which seems rather pleased after witnessing the headmaster literally shiver from terror at the mention of my father. Me and her both know that my father is a scary individual. Not many people are willing to go against him because of his overarching strong personality, and the faint rumours about the end that many of his competitors have met. I don't know if the rumours are true since I was never too keen on knowing how my dad handles his business, but I wouldn't be surprised if they were. He's a terryfying man.

"Okay so after our system calculated the mean of your grades, looked into your old extracurricular activities and analysed the frequency in your contribution both in class and during these clubs as well as your socio-economic status, it has suggested that the best house for you would be.... Làpis Lazzuli!" she announces excitedly, looking at me seeking for a reaction.

I give her a slight awkward smile which she seems disappointed by, probably expecting a bigger reaction from me. I have no idea about what significance the houses here hold so being put in Làpis Lazzuli doesn't really make a difference to me, I would have been content any where to be honest.

"That's perfect! That is exactly what me and her dad were hoping for!" my mum proudly exclaims, looking at me like I've just won a Nobel prize for world peace. Confused is literally an understatement for what I'm feeling right now.

"I'm very glad you're happy with the choice madame" Mrs Peregrine smiles "Mencìa, heres your timetable" she says handing me my seemingly packed schedule "and your designated uniform should have been delivered to your room by now, so when you go check it out it should be placed on your bed. If it's not, do not hesitate to ring front desk and they'll sort it out for you"

I nod feeling slightly light headed. It's done. It's over. I've been enrolled and now i'm officially a Rosethorne student. I'd be lying if i said that my heart didn't feel like it was literally about to jump out my throat. I knew the process wasn't going to take long but a little part in me hoped that this meeting would have lasted longer, or at least long enough for me to familiarise myself with the idea of frequenting a school where hopefully no one knew me. And i was going to make that my priority. I have to keep myself anomymous no matter what.

I pick my bag up from the ground where it was slouched against one of the legs of the desk and make my way outside the office alongside my mother.

"That was a succesful meeting, i'll make sure to refer everything back to your father, he'll be very pleased to hear that you made it into Lapis house" she says, looking at me ecstatic. I scoff, knowing that if she was refering to my dad, as in THE Lucious Santana then he most likely wouldn't have cared. He doesn't tend to mingle with my affairs, all he cares about is his "empire".

"What the hell is the deal with this Lapus Lozzuli house?" i frown perplexed, "It's LÀPIS LAZZULI, not Lupas Luzzoli or whatever language you just spoke right now" she corrects me "Plus, only the best of the best get accepted into that house. Think about every politician or successful business owner you know that has attended Rosethorne. They were all sorted into Làpis house. They call it the house of the 0.1 percentile" she triumphaly says, making a grand gesture with her arms to emphasise the significance of her statement "Because being in that house will guarantee you a prime spot amongst the elites of the population the second you're out of here".

I nod as i sign of understanding to cut the conversation short. I tuned out whatever she was saying the second she started talking about politicians and all that rubbish, i have bigger things to worry about, like what the uniform is gonna look like on me and how fast i'll be able change and walk to third period english literature to be able to get there before everyone else. The last thing i want right now is to have an entire group of post pubescent teenagers wonder where the fuck i came from just because i chose to appear at a more appropriate time.

                                                                                   

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

"Oh wow..." my mother says dumfounded by the large building that was currently facing us. "Oh wow indeed madre..." i reply being equally as dumbfounded as she was. The female dormitory is rather magnificient to say the least.

It's a slate grey brick building with a charcoal clay & concrete tile roof. The massive burgundy entrance door was shadowed by a vast ashen staircase in the same opaque shade as the building. The walkway was drowned by white pebbles that composed an ironically smooth path of gravel that flawlessly complimented the walls' colour, and the dormitory was surrounded by a perfectly trimmed bush that fenced the structure. Directly infront of it, in the centre of the expansive walkway, a bronze fountain stood, with a statue of a supposedly faceless woman holding a withering rose against her chest.

I make my way up the stairs clutching the ends of my jean skirt  so tightly to avoid flashing anyone behind me and just to have something to hold because i genuenly don't know what to do with myself. The anxiety is eating me alive.

We make it through the entrance and are welcomed by a spacious hall, illuminated by an enormous crystal gold chandelier perfectly cascading above a large mahogany desk residing right in the centre.

A brunette tanned woman is sitting infront of a silver large screen behind the desk, loudly tapping away on her minuture iMac keyboard. She looked up once she heard us walking towards her and stood to greet us warmily "Hello! Nice to meet you both, i'm Faith" she said shaking both mine and my mother's hands. "You must be Mencìa" she looked at me with a bright smile "I was expecting you", she said whilst walking behind her desk and coming back round to where me and my mum are standing with a set of keys in her hands. She hands me the keys and i notice the large golden 77 engraved in the blue leather keychain attached to them.

"You will be residing in our solo suites on the third floor as requested by your father" i exhale, being glad that for once my dad cared enough to actually listen to me. I wouldn't have minded sharing a room with another student if it weren't for the special circumstances i'm currently in.

After all, i did have a roomate in my old school but unfortunately it didn't go as well as I planned...

I begged my father to request for a single room by myself, and i didn't think he was actually listening to me that day since he seemed to be a lot more captivated by contents on his work computer rather than his literal offspring standing in front of him begging for her life. I guess this time he actually acknowledged me.

"The elevators are this way" Faith points to her left towards the end the corridor where three silvery metallic doors were sitting against a brick wall next to each other. "Your suitcases should have been taken up to your room by now so don't you worry about them. Do call me if there's any concerns" she lastly says before returning back to her sit.

We made our way up to the third floor and found my room in no time, being that it was the only room at the very end of the corridor. There weren't many students around, as i recall noticing that the only people present in the bulding when i first walked in were Faith the receptionist and the tall security guard next to the entrance.

I figure that everyone must be in their respective classes right now hence the current sinister emptiness of the corridors.

"Okay brace yourself for disaster, we're here!!" my mother squeales excited. I grip onto the handle and open the door at a painfully slow pace with my breath hitched, expecting the worse even though it's probably just going to be an average sized empty room and I'm just overreacting.

The door opens all the way and we're met with a beautifully lighted spacious bedroom. The walls are pearly white with a pinkish undertone that I'm yet to determine whether it's due to the sunlight reflecting onto the majestic diamond chandelier in the dead centre of the ceiling, or if it's simply just the paint.

The floor is covered by a light grey carpet that I adore since I prefer walking around my room shoe less. A double bed rests upon a little round platform (also covered by the grey carpet) directly in front of the door. Its headboard is a silvery crushed velvet material. On the left side, two massive windows allow the sunlight outside to naturally light up the room, and a white couch with two fuchsia cushions sits underneath them.

A white mahogany desk resides on the right side of the room, between two doors. One leads to the en-suite bathroom and the other one leads to the walk-in closet. My suitcases were left in the middle of my room.

"I gotta admit this is much better than I expected" I say satisfied with what I was given. I'm not too sure whether it was my dad's doing or if these are just what the standard single rooms look like, but I'm happy nonetheless. I can't wait to decorate it.

"Your dad really outdid himself this time. That couch is fabulous! We need one in our bedroom" my mum says, pacing around the room inspecting the surroundings.

"What do you mean by 'dad outdid himself'? Did he remodel the room?!" I ask anxiously. I mean, I did request for a single room and it is indeed quite nice but I don't wanna receive any special treatments in case it brings too much attention. I would've been fine with anything.

"Not necessarily...but he did replace the original bed with the current one and he also got you the couch" she explains "plus the chandelier was my doing! Do you like it?" she looks at me hopeful, waiting for my response.

"It was a nice touch, I love it! Thanks mum" I say embracing her lovingly. A bit extra? Yes.

But what can I do. That's just how my mother shows her love for me every so often, especially since she doesn't get to do so in public anyway.

"You're welcome tesoro~" she replies hugging me back. I end our embrace and walk towards my bed where my uniform is sitting: An almost black navy blue blazer with 2 golden buttons, a blue and grey plaid bow tie with a big blue gem on the knot,  a plaid pleated skirt of the same colour of the bow tie, and a complementary black gilet sweater that I'm guessing is for when the weather is colder.

"Do you need any help unpacking Mencià? Because I can stay for longer if you need me to" my mother asks me with a look of worry on her face.

"No thanks mum. I'm gonna go off to my first lesson soon so I'm probably not gonna unpack right now. Plus it'll give me something to do this evening so I should be fine" I tell her, smiling reassuringly.

"If you say so then I'll be taking my leave. Don't forget to call me tonight once you're back from your classes and don't even think about shortening your skirt Mencià..." she beings rambling as I start pushing her towards the door. Once she starts she'll never end.

"... and wear tights! And I'm not talking about those fishnets you're hiding in your suitcase. You thought I didn't see them huh?!" she carries on, "yeah mum I won't don't worry" I respond exasperated trying to cease her blathering.

"Also..." we're at the door now and she's finally stopped her rambling session. She's looking at me now, worry back on her face "Don't forget that we're always here for you. Your dad may not show it often but he loves you very much" A saddened look replaces the look of worry as she begins stroking my left cheek with her thumb

"You've gone through a lot of hardships but this is your chance to start over. Don't think about the past anymore and focus on building a new future. A future that you desire" she says, smiling at me reassuringly.

"Thanks for the advice madre~" i force a smile in an attempt to hide the tears that are about to spill out my eyes. Goodbyes are  never easy, no matter how frequently they happen. I've gradually adapted to not being at home often being that I grew up going to various boarding schools, but this time it's different. It feels different.

"Please thank dad on my behalf for the bed and the couch" I say giving her one last hug. "I will~" she replies. We end our embrace and she gives me one last look before taking her leave.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

"Gosh~ spero di essermi portata tutto..."(I hope I brought everything I need) I mumble underneath my breath.

After mopping around my room for 30 minutes trying to figure out how to make my uniform look less dull, I finally left. I know I promised mum that I wouldn't wear the fishnets but I had no choice. I tried to add a little bit of me to my uniform by slightly shortening the skirt and wearing black fishnets with platform doc martens. Everything else is normal.

Third period starts in 45 minutes meaning that I still have time to get to my English classroom and settle in before the other students start swarming in.

Luckily I'm not experiencing much difficulty in finding the room thanks to the map of the school Faith gave on my way out, though I've noticed that the stares have increased and I'm starting to feel slightly anxious again.

Earlier today, I had thought that the reason why everyone was looking at me was because I was literally walking alongside my mother hence people figured that I was new and were just curious. But now I'm all by myself yet others are still staring at me, specifically at my neck, and whispering things underneath their breath to their friends if they're walking in duos or groups.

I'm trying to shake it off, but I'm finding it difficult to not think that they could know something. I feel like if I don't get out of here right now I'm going to start hyperventilating, which i absolutely need to avoid.

I begin rushing to find my classroom so I can seat down and stabilise my breath before everyone else gets there. After searching the hallway on the second floor for what seemed like an eternity, I finally find.

I go to open the door but I stop due to the unknown voices I'm hearing coming from inside. No one should be here yet, class literally starts in about 30 minutes then why am I hearing people inside?

"Have you not learnt your lesson yet? Must I remind you who you are again or are you gonna come to your senses?" says a male voice in a threatening but oddly calm voice followed by a loud bang and a weak mewl possibly coming from a second person in the room. I jolt as I take a step back thinking about whether I should just go back to my room and return at a more appropriate time.

"I-I-I-m s-s-s-orry. I won't do it a-a-gain. I must have lost my mind" pleaded someone with a shaky voice. Another loud bang occurs and this time a high pitched shriek of pain erupts from someone in that room. "You think sorry will cut it? How dare a parasite like you look at me" says the voice I heard at the beginning with a slightly more aggressive tone.

I can't stay here any longer. I'm not entirely sure about what's going on in there but what I'm sure about is that i don't want to be the next target. As I go to take my leave I suddenly come face to face with a girl who's seemingly been standing behind me for a while looking at me with what could only be deciphered as curiosity.

Since she hasn't uttered a word I choose to quietly keep moving. I'm not a fan of small talk as I fear awkwardness and I want to avoid it at all costs.

"Old money or new money?" the girl suddenly asks. I stop dead in my tracks, "I see you're Lapìs house so I'm assuming old money correct?" she insists after noticing my lack of response, "or...don't tell me you're social care!" she loudly whispers.

I look at her confused not entirely sure what to say. "How did you know I was Lapìs house?" I ask her the first question that popped into my mind.

She points at my neck and chuckles "Your bow tie. The gem in the middle is blue. Since you didn't know that then my assumptions were correct" she states proudly "You're new. That explains why I've never seen you around" she says, taking a step closer.

"My name is Aiura Yamaha but you can call me Yuri, nice to meet you" she triumphantly announces with a big bright smile revelling her perfectly curated white teeth. I nod and smile back introducing myself also but with a lot less energy "Nice to meet you, my name's Mencià".

She takes my hand and frantically shakes it, smile still wide and bright. Now that I'm taking a proper look at her I gotta admit that she's relatively beautiful. Her hair is dirty blonde styled in a pompous half up half down hairdo. Her skin is tanned and shiny emulating the reincarnation of what it means to be "baciata dal sole" (sun-kissed).

She's only wearing a white shirt with the first three buttons undone showing her prominent cleavage. Her bow tie is sitting lose around her neck, her skirt ends just below her bum and her thick white leg warmers rest on top of her black platform crocs decorated with a variety of random charms.

Her alternative way of dressing is a complete juxtaposition of her sweet innocent face. Her eyes are emphasised by the thick white eyeliner on her water line and the heavy nose contour gives her nose a more dainty and petite look.

"You didn't answer my question though" Aiura says, smile slightly faltering. I look at her clueless as I genuinely don't remember "Are you old money or new money?" she asks as I'm reminded of the set of questions she began her introduction with.  She stares at me with much more intensity waiting for my response

"I-I don't know, what does that mean?" I ask trying to sound as calm as possible but failing miserably. For some reason I feel like saying the wrong answer will only lead to the possible future trouble I'm so desperately trying to avoid. I should've just kept walking. I don't know why I stopped to interact with her.

"Wait...you don't know?!" she looks at me in disbelief with her mouth agape and her pupils about to pop out of their sockets. Was I supposed to?

I slowly shake my head wary of her next response. "When did you start?" she asks me incredulous, "today..." I whisper looking behind her in search of an escape from this situation. I'm still very unsure about where this conversation is heading.

"Ohhh! In that case, let me give you a brief rundown of how things work in this school. But not here, follow me!" she grabs my arm catching me by surprise and begins hurriedly pulling me away.

With a struggle, I'm able to snatch my arm away from her surprisingly tight grip. Her head snaps back to face me again, but something's different. Her face is flushed and she keeps glancing at the door of my English class. "You really can't be here Mencià. Or at least not now. You need to come with me" she says in a panicked tone.

"But where are we goi-"

"Just come!" Aiura snaps grabbing my arm once more and dragging me away again. My intuition is telling me that following her may be the best option for me right now. I don't ask any further questions and i let her guide me down the hallway.

Suddenly, I hear the door of my English class swing open as we're nearing the end of the hallway. I try to look behind me to catch a peek of the person (or people) that was causing all that ruckus. All I'm able to see is a tall, slightly slender silhouette with jet black wavy hair before Aiura takes a corner and my view get obstructed by the wall.

[according2thelore]

I'm rusty on my supernatural lore,

But what would you imagine Dean [and Sam's] life would have been if Dean stayed and grew up ay Sonnys?

anon!!!! ANON!!!!

WHAT THE FUCKKK!!! this has sent me into an absolute spiral. oh god. let's discuss!!!!!!!

i don't see john winchester leaving dean there permanently, even though he was angry enough to leave him there for a few months, so i'm sure some kind of law enforcement had to be involved, or CPS once they find the repeated knife marks on dean's forearm from shifter tests.

i also can't see dean leaving sam with john by himself, especially since sam is younger. i think if dean was raised by sonny, he'd try to run away a few times, until it's made clear to him that if CPS finds out john has another--even younger--kid with him, sammy'll end up in the system.

dean's life changes pretty drastically. about six months in, he starts getting antsy. he's made efforts to make friends/get prom dates/form a group at this school, but when they stay in his life beyond a certain time, he doesn't really know what to do with himself. he doesn't know how to maintain long-term friendships or relationships outside of sam, and with sam it was effortless. he's not good at purposefully socializing, and breaks a lot of friendships due to unintentional cruelty. it takes him a while to get used to having people that know him, and i imagine the first time his friends celebrate his birthday, dean kind of freaks out, bc his job is to be unknown, a face in the crowd that disappears in a month.

i think dean would be pretty popular in school, even if it's in an infamous way. he doesn't have any qualms about breaking into classrooms after school hours, he fixes a car in shop by hot wiring it, and when michael f.'s ankle gets broken in gym, dean's splinted it before the teacher can run back to the room and call the office.

sonny notices dean getting antsy and jittery, and recommends he join the football team, or the basketball team, or the baseball team. dean is like "woah, no, i'm not built for team activities." but he probably ends up enrolling for a season just to get sonny to shut up. he loves it. he loves the automatic surface-level friendships built in, he loves getting to miss class, and he loves the inherent status that comes with it.

dean's not used to being able to have and afford things, and sonny gets called into the high school because dean's been skipping gym for a week. when sonny's like "hey kid, wtf?" dean shrugs and is a little shit about it, but it turns out his sneakers have completely fallen apart. he tried a mixture of gluing/sewing them back together, and it worked for a month, but now they're irreparable. sonny starts asking dean once a month if he needs anything. he's not wealthy, mind you, but when dean shyly asks for new jeans, he and sonny are in goodwill THAT DAY getting dean jeans he doesn't have to hold up with a belt.

dean does well in english, does well in foreign language (he takes spanish), does REALLY well in shop, but has to get after-school tutoring in math.

dean misses sam more than the air in his lungs. he has nightmares nightly about sam dying, and dean is too far away to help. when he's seventeen, one of the younger kids introduces dean as his older brother to one of his school friends, and dean has a panic attack in the bathroom. he's real sweet on the younger kids, and the only time he gets in trouble for fighting at school is when the smallest one gets his head shoved in a toilet.

dean treats sonny like a coworker instead of an authority figure, which is pretty typical for kids like this. younger kids come to him with problems, and the only reason dean actually goes to after school math tutoring is so he can help the younger ones with their math homework when they ask.

when dean turns eighteen, sonny offers him the chance to stay. dean knows he's gotta find sammy. but while he takes weekend roadtrips to hunt down john and sam, he funds these trips with working at a car wash and takes mechanic trade school classes during the week.

now sammy...his life changes. a lot. john didn't take him on many hunts before, since he had dean to come with him, but now sam is going on almost every hunt, at age twelve.

his childhood was long-since over, but sam gets thrust into full hunting before his voice drops. he tries to run away from john to get to dean monthly. john starts disassembling the door handles at each motel they stay at, until sam learns how to put them back together. sam wants them both to be raised by sonny, because he's catastrophically lonely now.

john doesn't tell him the truth. in S9E7 when we get introduced to sonny, sam has no idea that dean was in a boys' home. i think john tries to lie as long as possible, saying dean's lost on a hunt, then that dean's at bobby's, then finally admitting that dean got in some hot water with the state and is at a boys' home. he never tells sam about the full truth though, with the money and the stealing, and by the time john ended his "punishment" and went to pick him up, the state was involved.

john blames himself for dean being taken away, and even though he knows dean is safer away from them, he's heartbroken he doesn't get to watch his son become an adult.

for the hunts that are too dangerous for sam to accompany john on, sam sits shivering under a motel blanket, terrified out of his mind. if john's dead, sam's completely alone in the world. he has no idea how to drive the car to get to dean. hitch-hiking would get him kidnapped or killed or worse. he doesn't know how to run the credit card scams. every time john comes back alive and mostly in one piece, sam stifles tears into his pillow, relief too big to name.

when john doesn't take him on hunts, sam is up all night researching. he's the primary researcher now, and he needs two cups of coffee to wake up in the morning by the time he's thirteen.

he and john fight. constantly. there's not a mediator anymore, and with puberty making sam a concentrated ball of rage, john has no idea how to handle him. dean was obedient. sam is furious. when they fight, john ends up storming out, sometimes for days on end, because there's not someone to calm him down or tell him sam didn't mean it.

sam writes letters to dean, but doesn't know their address ahead of time enough to let dean write back. when john finds out, he's furious. not only does it risk sam also getting taken, he knows it stresses dean out and risks dean getting surrendered to the state instead of sonny's if he runs away when he hears about the hunts sam gets taken on. he cuts off their communication. that time, sam runs away for two and a half weeks. john finds him in a bus stop in indiana, curled asleep against the wall with a hand-written sign that says rides to new york.

sam's only refuge is at school, and even though he loves his dad, has very little guilt about attending college fairs at sixteen.

when john and sam finally show up to sonny's a few months after dean's eighteenth birthday, sam gets out of the car before it even stops moving and slams with both fists on the front door like he's trying to escape instead of enter the door. sonny opens it, and sam's practically frothing at the mouth to get dean back. some of the younger kids that are out of school for the day are like "what do u want with our brother?? 🤨" and sam loses his SHIT. because what the fuck do you MEAN?

dean comes home from the garage when sonny calls him, and dean shows up breathless and sweaty and streaked in grease because he ran because waiting for the bus would take too long.

sam is only an inch shorter than him now at fourteen, as he hurls himself out of the house and takes dean to the ground. they both cry but pretend they don't. the hug lasts so long, dean petting through sam's hair, and sam's eyes closed tightly, nose buried in dean's sweaty collarbone that everyone looks around awkwardly. i'm talking minutes.

THIS PROMPT MAKES ME CRAZY!!!! ANON!!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR SENDING IT IN!!!! your mind is so big...so huge...i had SO much fun thinking about it!!!! thank you sm!!! mwah mwah mwah!

-lizzy

[pixxelminxx]

its stupid that almost all of the beta kids live in the US. jade doesnt but her grandpa is from the US i believe? how is it that theres a handful of kids fated to save the universe or whatever and theyre ALLL american. it would make way more sense if they were scattered all over the globe.

so far i see dave as still living in texas because he very much feels like a product of the american public school system and american individualism. jade also still lives on her island thats fine her gpa is just polynesian to me, and then john lives in hong kong and rose lives in brazil.

rose specifically lives in the southern high planes of brazil bc thats where it snows and for some reason rose living in a snowy location feels important to her upbringing to me? maybe just because of the flashbacks to her playing in the snow. oh also because it makes sense if she lives in a more isolated location.

i think grandpa harley is maori and was originally born in new zealand wow oh my god as im typing this im imagining jade w a kiwi accent and that feels so fitting. anyways i think he sailed out from NZ and found hellmurder island out in the pacific on his travels.

i also like the idea of rose and dave meeting online and dave is fluent in spanish (bro is irish american/mexican) and in english while rose is fluent in portuguese and knows some english. they communicate through spanglish and portuganglish(???)and rose gets better ar conversational english this way. once she starts getting the hang of it (which is very fast) she starts reading more and more english books and quickly accumulates a far bigger vocabulary than dave because dave does not fucking read books like that.

when they talk mainly spanish and portuguese in the beginning dave is like “portuguese speakers sound like theyre trying to speak spanish while having a stroke you’re giving me a headache” and rose is like “sounds like a you problem i understand your spanish just fine” lol.

dave has a weird assortment of spanish vocab that he knows outside of the basics because his only exposure to spanish is from his bro and shitty public school spanish classes.

also bro was raised on dragon ball z and thats part of the reason he styles his hair the way he does. bro has the goku jesus mexican flag hanging in their living room.

[eternalsams]

Love is All ⇴ M.Garcia

pairing: Mickey Garcia x fem!reader

summary: during your first night out after the Uranium mission, you all decide to play a game to know each other a bit better and some things are hard to believe.

content/warnings: fluff, alcohol consumption

word count: 1.7k

a/n: english isn't my first language, please take that into consideration. There's references to one of my favorite movies, can you catch them?

masterlist

The mission was a success and when everybody was cleared off the medical check, you all decided to enjoy a night out at the Hard Deck and let your captain pay a round of drinks. Except for the first night when you all met and the day at the beach for dogfight football, you didn’t really have the time to chat and really know each other. It was Hangman’s idea, of course, but none of you complained about free drinks and a fun night out. As Coyote's WSO, you already knew Javy and Jake pretty good and heard about Rooster and Phoenix from when Hangman would tell you his Top Gun stories. But you were glad you could finally put faces to the names. You were one of the youngest among Fanboy and Phoenix. To your biggest surprise, Bob wasn't as young as he seemed to be but he still kept a young soul, getting along with the youngest but also the oldest of the team.

When you passed the Hard Deck's doors, penny welcomed you all with a bright smile and a couple of applause. She was followed in her applause by a few patrons who recognized you and heard about your exploits. None of you really paid them any attention and Rooster and Phoenix stayed at the bar to take all the orders while the rest of you gathered around a pool table for a game or two. You mostly stayed with Hangman and Coyote, sometimes chuckling at something Fanboy said, making them understand where your callsign came from. Lieutenant Y/N 'Giggles' Y/L/N. You got it in flight school when you inadvertently giggled during class at an awkward silence. It stuck.

The night went on, all of you learning to know each other. Some funny anecdotes shared and embarrassingly told later, Hangman proposed -as the very mature man he was- to play truth or dare. You all drank a little bit and the alcohol in your systems made you all agree with his high-schooler idea. You grabbed the bottles of beer that were still not emptied and followed Hangman on the beach. You all sat legs crossed onto the sand and that's when you noticed that Coyote kept an empty bottle to use as a pointer. He spined the bottle and the bottleneck pointed at Bob. Hangman's face lightened up and he looked up at the blue-eyed WSO with a devilish smirk. "Truth or Dare, Baby On Board?" He asked. You could see Bob gulp silently and think about what he was about to choose. He could almost feel the fresh Californian air hitting his bare torso if he ever said Dare to Hangman. "Truth."

Hangman's smile faded only a bit, kind of disappointed that Bob didn't pick Dare, but he quickly found something to ask the blonde. "What's the most reckless thing you've ever done? On or out of base." The blonde pilot licked his lips wickedly and leaned back to rest his weight on his hands. Bob's face turned red and he looked away, his eyes catching the ocean waves a bit further on the beach. "I... I uhm got a girl on base one night." And with just that, howls and whistles were heard from all the boys. Phoenix and you simply laughed, surprised by Bob's confession. "Who was that girl?" Payback asked. "Hey! He picked Truth not truths." Phoenix quickly came to the rescue of her WSO. Payback raised his hands in surrender and Bob leaned over to spin the bottle.

You kept playing during the biggest part of the evening, some of your deepest and dirtiest secrets being revealed to your new friends. Some of you -Rooster and Coyote- were now wet from head to toes from going into the cold water of the ocean as a dare. Others -Phoenix, Hangman and Payback- were wasted with the amount of alcohol they consumed. Unfortunately you had to lick salt from Coyote's neck at one point, earning whistles from Hangman who snapped a picture on his phone for good measure he'd never forget this. Sadly for Bob, he now had to feel the fresh air of California when Rooster dared him to take off his shirt, he now had wrapped his arms around his bare chest, feeling self-conscious even when you and others complimented him to make him feel better about himself. Truth be told, he looked nothing like Rooster with his broad shoulders or like Hangman with his hugely developed pecs. But you wouldn't be lying if you said you didn't stare a bit too long when he took his shirt off to properly fold it next to him on the sand.

Fanboy was the only one left avoiding anything too embarrassing, he told you about his first time, he whispered dirty things in Phoenix's ears who opened her eyes wide open when he murmured those dirty words. He even drank a whole beer in one go. But nothing too embarrassing like kissing one of you or stripping out of his clothes. He finished his last dare and spined the bottle that ended up pointing at you. He kindly smiled up at you and licked his lips. "Truth or Dare, Y/N?" You chuckled and closed your eyes, wanting this game to finally end. "Truth." You could hear Hangman and Coyote sigh because they basically already knew everything about you. "Do you believe in love?" Mickey -as you learned he was called- asked you. You didn't really see the others' faces when he asked that because you kept looking at him but you could hear some laughs and some whispers at how 'lame' his question was. "I don't." You simply say and he frowned, not expecting this answer, he opened his mouth, ready to ask something else when Rooster's voice interrupted him. "Alright, I don't know what you wanted to know with this Fanboy but I think it shows that it's time we stop playing this immature game." He ended his sentence with a pointed look towards Hangman who was grinning, stopping himself from laughing out loud.

You and Fanboy were the only ones who stayed silent when you all helped cleaning up. You weren't really upset by Mickey's question or anything, just tired. But Fanboy was deep in his thoughts, how could you not believe in love? It was simply impossible for him to imagine not believing in love. You all joined the bar and noticed all customers were gone and that Penny was cleaning everything. You all helped her even if she insisted you didn't have to. Payback was the first one to leave, and then Phoenix. And at the end, only you and Fanboy were still helping Penny moping the floor and cleaning the counters while she was taking inventory. The silence was only disrupted by the sound of the waves and the crickets outside. That until Fanboy stopped moping and turned to you. "How can you not believe in love?"

You chuckled and kept cleaning the counter. "I just don't. Is it that hard to believe?" You looked up at him and smiled, shrugging to show him it didn't bother you that much. "It is! I mean... What do you mean by Love? You've never been in love before?" He rested his chin on the back of his hands that were themselves resting on top of the mop handle. "I have been in love. I'm still human, Fanboy. I just don't believe in love with a capital L. I don't think we're destined to find some kind of soulmates that will forever be by our side. I think that's bullshit." Your answer left Fanboy speechless and when you were done with the counter, you rinsed the sponge you were using and dried your hands before grabbing your stuff. "Here's a question for you, Mickey. Why do you believe in love?" You chuckled as you walked by him, intending on leaving him finish moping alone. But his voice stopped you in your tracks.

"Above all things, I believe in love." He said and you turned to him, feeling he would say more. "A life without love isn't worth to be lived. And I'm not talking about parental love because that's a whole different thing but romantic love, love with a capital L, is real. Believe me." He rested the mop against a table and got closer to you. "My mom always tells me that when you find your true love, you feel it. Not in your heart like everyone might think, but in your stomach. Being away from them makes you sick, thinking of a life without them makes you sick. That's when you know you found your true love." He stopped getting closer when only a couple of feet separated you. "Have you ever felt sick?" You asked curiously. "I thought so, once. But I had only eaten something bad." He smiled, showing his pearly whites. You giggled, looking away from him not to fall for his pretty smile. Because he did have a very pretty smile. "Love is a many-splendored thing, you know? It's not always about being a sap, or cheesy. Nor as passionate as Hangman tries to make it appear." He chuckled as he tried to catch your eyes. "It can hurt, I agree. But it makes us feel alive. Love lifts us up where we belong." One of his hands tentatively grabbed yours and made you look back at him. "And where do I belong?" You took a step closer to him, linking your fingers to his. "Up there in the sky, where the eagles fly." You bit your bottom lip to stop yourself from giggling once more. "I'm sorry, I didn't even realize it rhymes." He chuckled as he closed his eyes, feeling a bit embarrassed by how cheesy he sounded. "That was pretty smooth, I have to admit." You said and his eyes opened wide, staring at you in disbelief. You giggled once more and let go of his hand to grab his face and press your lips on his cheek. "I may not yet believe in love with a capital L, but I do believe in a dinner at yours. Let's say Friday, at 7?" You cocked your head to the side and watched him coming back to his senses. "That was really smooth too." He softly smiled and nodded, already wondering what he was gonna cook for you on Friday night.