#I come back to this same problem all the time now

[elodieunderglass]

I have two jockeyposting questions, if I may! 1. Killie has a delightful bear of a boyfriend. Is he out? Horseracing doesn't seem like it would be very queer-friendly but maybe I'm wrong about that. 2. Is the fact that people are generally getting taller a problem for finding tiny jockeys?

Of course thank you so much! I adore getting these thank you so much ☺️

1.) horse racing is not queer-friendly to jockeys.

There is one ☝️ out gay jockey in the Anglosphere/Europe/probably the world, Jack Duern. (1) Duern came out on Twitter and his career tanked, with trainers openly disapproving and no longer offering rides. Since no mounts = no pay, he left the field. Interestingly, he came back a few years later, with lots of inclusion campaigns in the UK promising that “horse racing is for everyone,” but it’s reasonable that nobody else has followed him out! Duern has said that of course there are other gay jockeys, and that the jockeys themselves are actually quite supportive of each other. But as disposable freelancers with no collective bargaining, who don’t hold power in the sport and get rides based on reputation, why risk what very much happened to Duern for no benefit? All the people who hold power in horse racing are ghastly Tories, and the rainbow capitalism clearly hasn’t created conditions of safety or trust in the real world.

Now Killie is of course a fictional jockey who lives in my head. Realistically, he is Not Out in the modern era. Him being out would be MASSIVE. He is barely out to himself. His emotional baggage requires a storage unit. Probably the biggest single piece of baggage was that his twin brother was thrown out (of family, home and sport) for dating men, and disappeared for several years; which broke several load-bearing things in Killie.

He will definitely have to come out of the closet, like a badger boiling furiously from a hole to bite your feet off, possibly in the end by simply bringing Derek as his plus-one to a black-tie event and then lunging at the first person to Have a Problem With It. Suspended jockey license for three months for biting, again.

Mind you, Killie is terrible queer representation. Can you imagine.

Pride is for everyone, even Killie. Pride is for everyone, even Killie. Pride is for -

The answer to question 2) has a trigger warning for discussion of size/weight, tap “keep reading” to keep reading

2.) the legendary tiny jockeys are indeed getting rarer, and their extinction has been claimed in the UK. There is no preference - no economic pressure - for short jockeys; the industry doesn’t care much if you’re a healthy short bastard or a starving lanky skeleton. But there’s two approaches to it at the moment: in the UK, they’ve raised weight limits across the profession. In the rest of the world, where jockey weights are still around 118lbs, jockeys just get recruited to wealthy countries.

Killie races in the UK and there’s a slight problem now. He was initially formed in the 1990s by a child who did NOT want him to have an eating disorder, and therefore, I waved my hand and said that he’s 4’10”, the same size as Julie Krone (Triple Crown winner) and Willie Shoemaker (said to be the best American jockey of all time). This was realistic then, but might be a problem now.

The UK has some of the highest permitted jockey weights in the world, and is the stronghold of steeplechasing (jump racing) which allows the highest weights of all. In 2025 a UK jump jockey can now be 160 lbs, with a minimum floor of 140 (including gear) meaning that a jump jockey needs a minimum riding weight of around 133 lbs(this can include as much lead weight as they need.) Underweight jockeys make up their weight to the assigned number by adding lead weights in the weight cloth, which is absolutely normal, although less desirable than living weight; and handicapping adds extra dimensions; but Killie could realistically jump at close to an average weight, and no longer needs to be extra-tiny to be a flat-and-jump jockey.

The last two UK lightweight jockeys of the old school both just retired Autumn 2024. They were quite successful until the end, and it’s clear that there’s an advantage to their frames - even now and even in the UK - but you can see that at their retirements they had gone from archetypal-jockey-type to outlier-among-the-young-bloods. Killie was intended to have the same build: if he was a person aging at normal rates, he would have been in his 20s when created by a dumb kid in the 90s, and exactly this age (50s) now. Instead, if he’s in his 30s now, he was now probably born around 1990 - and would be the short outlier!

(The UK’s “last lightweight jockeys”, born in the 1970s. Left, Jimmy Quinn (centre, yellow silk) Irish flat jockey with colleagues; centre photo Franny Norton, English flat jockey with sports physiologists; right, Franny Norton, having also been a boxer, showing a child how to box. Jimmy and Franny both retired Autumn 2024, hailed as “the last of the UK’s great lightweight jockeys.” They were both very short, very muscular, very successful and rode healthily into their fifties. The younger jockeys on the left would be considered smaller than average people, but are noticeably in the lankier-framed modern style.)

However. That’s the UK, and its heavier jockeys, higher weight limits and its overarching steeplechase obsession. The rest of the world prefers flat racing, and is stuck firmly on basically the same weight limit as the 1990s, of about 118 lbs. Killie might now be well-below-average for UK steeplechasers; but to ride the most famous flat races in the world, he’s comfortable. He could easily and healthily do the big famous flat races - Japan Cup! Kentucky Derby! - where steeplechasers are limited to very few races.

So given that the UK steeplechasing has pulled away from the rest of the world, we might have to either make Killie a bit taller to keep up with that, or let him focus on international flat racing. ANYWAY, that’s just to say that that’s the immediate impact of rising average heights on Killie as a character.

So how do the flat-racing nations manage to get their tiny jockeys?

Japan pulls from a population that, statistically, has more people who are able to match the weight requirements.

France seems to naturally produce enough little guys to export excesses to the USA. Flavien Prat, who is 5’1” and wins a lot, is one of those.

For better or worse, the USA relies heavily on jockeys from other countries, particularly Latin America. You can draw your own conclusions about colonial power and land justice from this. But on the personal level there is significant representation from Puerto Rico (Irad Ortiz Jr, John R Velasquez) and countries like Panama, the Dominican Republic, Peru, and Mexico. When you subtract French and LatAm riders from the top lists in the USA, you’re left with a few American generational jockeys.

Australian horse racing annoys me so much I don’t even want to touch on them or acknowledge them!! There is a problem with indentured child jockeys around the world, but Australia really kicked this up a notch.

Aotearoa / NZ is not a prominent racing nation, but you know how in the LotR films, most of the Riders of Rohan were women because that’s who the most competent local equestrians were? 40% of their jockeys are women, apparently!

Today, the UAE tends to operate through the UK training system, recruiting UK/EU jockeys. In the past they had widely-reported child jockey and kidnapping scandals.

Ireland is known for producing generational jockeys (Killie’s from a fictional “racing dynasty.”) By nature and nurture or both, they’ll probably keep doing this. Small parents don’t necessarily produce small people, of course, but horse-obsessed families tend to produce horse-obsessed people.

So it’s hard to say! Setting higher weight limits like the UK would offer more talent, but then again, Extracting Immigrant Labour is the system working as intended. the sport itself is declining in most countries, with millennials and everyone after being pretty uninterested.

Killie’s a special little guy, staring into the distance while “Last of My Kind” by Shaboozey plays

(1) There are only a handful of horse-racing countries outside of the Anglosphere and France, where Duern is the only out gay jockey. Japan - whose racing association is famously controlling of the public image of its jockeys - doesn’t have any English-language gossip about them being LGBTQ. I don’t know much about the Hong Kong racing scenes ditto; homosexuality is illegal in the United Arab Emirates. The other nations of the world produce jockeys, and occasionally horses, but don’t host the grade 1 world famous cups that make them major players.

[saeist]

it was just a mission. something about gathering intel at some event. it's simple, you've done this multiple times but the main problem? your boyfriend is pretty hands on with these kinds of missions

it wasn't out of the ordinary that you would be sent out on missions with nagumo. you two are members of the order and maybe to the higher ups, it was way more convenient this way (not that you minded)

now here you are, in a bar at some skyline rooftop in tokyo, gathering much information you can about an upcoming grand ball happening in a few weeks

your boyfriend, who happens to be your work partner is seated beside you, casually having a great time at the bar

in work settings, you and nagumo maintained a professional relationship. not only that it helps with your work ethics, it also prevents potential problems that may come in your way with your relationship (in regards to the work place. you wouldn't want to bring problems into your own home, now would you?)

but sometimes nagumo may take things too far just like right now.

nagumo had managed to find an important figure for the event and as expected, he charms his way to get information out of her. you watch them like a hawk as nagumo basically impresses this woman so much that she's already spilling company secrets to him

in retrospect, nagumo could've gotten this information in millions of different ways and scenarios. he has done shit like this too many times to count but since you were his partner for this specific mission, where's the fun in doing things he'd usually do without you?

he takes a look around the bar. just for a second to check if you were already looking at him– you are

nagumo holds in his smirk as he turns his attention back to the poor woman who was now babbling on about her life and company secrets

"that's cool" nagumo nods along to whatever the woman was yapping about, "so you're like super involved with the process of the production? that's interesting" nagumo hums, his voice dropping an octave lower in order to sound seductive just to see your reaction

now, you aren't exactly the jealous type. you were an assassin, you were bound to get into situations like this. it's all part of the job but something about nagumo flirting his way through this mission was rubbing you the wrong way

was it the drinks? it couldn't be. you are basically trained to withstand alcohol consumptions no matter how much you drink

the woman was now wrapped around nagumo's finger with the way she was giggling like crazy. twirling her hair and all as she leans onto nagumo's chest

nagumo got her right where he wanted

nagumo pauses his little chitchat with the woman to steal a glance towards your direction. you aren't exactly looking right at them but your bloodlust and hostility was going off the roof that nagumo couldn't help but look over

when you feel his gaze, you only look at him with a neutral expression though nagumo sees right through it. your eyes don't lie. you wanted to kill both the woman and him at the same time. he can literally see how you wanted them dead on the spot

the woman, still oblivious to your presence nor what you meant to nagumo, decides to take it up a notch and place her hand on nagumo's exposed chest

nagumo's eyes widened as he tries to pry her hands off of him. oh fuck, he thinks to himself. totally not expecting the woman to be handsy

the woman caresses his chest as she stares at him like he was eye candy (he is). she couldn't help but gasp at the sight of his exposed tattoos. fuck. maybe i should've just kept it at bay from the start, nagumo thinks to himself. he then stiffens when he feels the woman brush her fingers against his tattoos. his hand flies towards her wrist to brush her off as politely as he can.

nagumo tries to keep his expression as casual and neutral as he can but how could he when he can feel your intense stare at the side of his face.

he's so fucking dead

you click your tongue loudly in annoyance. the glass in your hand cracked under your grip. you were too busy ignoring the simmering feeling to notice til you felt some liquid seep through your fingers. nagumo nervously looks over at your direction again, trying to telepathically tell you to calm down

"so nagumo, any plans for tonight?" the woman purrs, leaning back on him

okay. that was your last straw.

you slam the glass down on the countertop, breaking it into tiny pieces. you push yourself off the bar as you make your way to the car. the mission might as well be over with since nagumo basically gathered all the information you two needed

nagumo winces as the glass shattered. even scaring the poor woman who's all over him. she grumbles about how you were too drunk to notice that you were getting physical

"i'll be going to the bathroom for a bit, excuse me" nagumo chirps, effortlessly pushing the woman off of him as he catches up to you

he's definitely done it this time around

nagumo makes a face as he rushes towards the parking lot where you were likely most waiting in. he considers the mission done when he got every possible detail needed for the upcoming plans

now onto his next mission: how to calm your not so jealous, jealous girlfriend down

when he makes it to the parking lot where your car was parked at. he was pleasantly surprised that you were waiting for him. for a second there he thought he would have to take an uber back home

you were busy distracting yourself on your phone when you hear a knock at the window. without even looking up, you unlocked the car and waited for nagumo to get inside

"hi" he greets, sitting on the passenger seat, "have i ever told you that you look beautiful tonight?" nagumo smiles, leaning over to your side to peck your cheek

you don't spare him a glance. hell, you didn't even acknowledge him. instead, you start the car and get the fuck out of the parking lot

"whoa! someone's in a hurry" nagumo jokes, gripping on the grab handle tightly as you floor it through the streets of tokyo. you ignore him and grip the steering wheel tighter. so tight that your knuckles turned white

you can't tell if nagumo still couldn't get the hint with the way he was just sitting in the passenger seat like the passenger prince he is. your eyes flicker towards his direction for a second and there you see his infamous smile on his face

for some reason that just upset you further

so you took a sharp turn that the tires were screeching. nagumo yelps in surprise

"babe, i'm gonna throw up at this rate with the way you're driving!" nagumo whines, reclining the seat back so he could rest a little. he was already getting a little car sick

"then get out and walk home" you snap, slamming on the breaks. nagumo was thankful that he had his seatbelt on or else he would've already flew out of the windshield

"oh so you are mad.." nagumo murmurs, "like mad mad"

you never wanted to strangle your own boyfriend til now. you can't even tell if he's being serious or being a little shit (it's most likely the latter) but the icky green feeling in your stomach was basically controlling you and your emotions right now

your silence was the answer nagumo needed. he lets out a chuckle. you are so easy to read

"is my baby jealous?" he teases, nudging you a bit. you shake off his touch, not wanting him to touch you in any way shape of form despite being in the same car as him, "you totally are" he coos, laughing at your reaction

you grit your teeth in annoyance, "i don't know, am i?"

nagumo hums, entertained by this whole conversation. he has never seen you act like this so this was a first. who knew you'd be cute like this

"it was just for the mission, baby. don't be upset" he says, reaching out to pinch your cheeks

"it wasn't just the mission, nagumo. you let her flirt with you" you seethe, frustration and irritation bubbling inside you

nagumo leans back on his seat, tapping his finger on his chin as if he was deep in thought. "well, i had to get the information one way or another so why not make her believe that she was some hot shit?"

"so you think hitting on people even when you have an actual partner, that was beside you the whole time mind you! would be the perfect way to fish out information? wow" you retaliate, shoulders dropping as you stare at the empty road in front of you

nagumo winces at your words

"okay maybe the flirting bit was a little too much–"

"what the fuck? so does that mean you do this every single time when you need intel behind my back? all this fucking time?" you cut him off, turning to nagumo with hurt evident on your features

nagumo's eyes widens at your accusation. he would never!

"what? baby no! i would never do that to you!" nagumo argues, sitting up properly. the look on your face is something he never wants to see ever again. seeing the hurt on your face hurt him more than a blade piercing through his skin

"i mean that maybe this time it was too far! i would never do that to you. it just so happens that the woman was flirting with me even if i was just being nice! i'm sorry baby. for the woman and for the way i acted tonight. i'm sorry" nagumo apologizes sincerely

you don't say anything. you continue to focus on the road so you could get home in one piece. nagumo waits and watches for your reaction but when he notices that you aren't saying anything he sighs

nagumo carefully reaches out for your hand that was on the gear shift. he slowly intertwines them together and places your hand on his lap

"baby, i'm really sorry that i made you feel this way. it wasn't my intention" nagumo rubs his thumb across your hand, "i just thought it may be a little funny to see how you'd react if i let other people flirt with me–"

luckily you were already on your street by the time nagumo was rambling because hearing his words just now made you slam on the breaks

"jesus babe. if you want to kill me then just stab me in the heart instead of trying to make me fly off the car" nagumo groans as he lurches forward but the seatbelt that he was wearing prevented him from flying out

"you deserve it" you glare at him, shaking off his hand as you exit the car. nagumo follows like a lost puppy

by the time you finally get inside your shared apartment, you were still irritated with nagumo, who has not left your side since. he's been following you around the house. from the living room to the bathroom and now at the kitchen where you were making yourself some tea to wind down before going to bed

nagumo wraps his arms around your frame and rests his head on your shoulder as you boil water on a kettle

"... are you still mad at me?" he mumbles in your ear, watching you add your usual spoons of sugar on your cup

you huff, "is it not obvious?"

"sorry"

nagumo pouts and decides pushes his luck. he presses a soft kiss on your cheek, in attempt to make you swoon. usually on normal days, this would've worked

"that's not gonna work this time around" you grumbled, turning off the kettle as it goes off. you pour yourself some hot water as nagumo continues to hold you close to him

"what is?" nagumo decides to play coy. again, you were just so easy to read. this time instead of kissing your cheek, his lips ghost against your jawline. nagumo feels you stiffen at the gesture. he smirks, hands sliding down your abdomen before they rest on your hips

"still mad?" he purrs in your ear. you shiver when you feel him finally press his lips against your jawline and trail kisses along side of it. he then flips you around, your back is now pressed against the cold tiles of your kitchen island. you stare at nagumo with wide eyes. you were supposed to be mad at him!

nagumo leans in, slowly closing the distance between you. his eyes flicker between your lips and your eyes like he was waiting for you to say something but instead he notices the way your breath hitches and your fingers twitching against the countertop like you were holding yourself back

"if you're still mad then let me make it up to you, baby" nagumo chuckles, hands rubbing random shapes on your exposed skin. you narrow your eyes at him, silently challenging him to bring it on. you aren't going to give in that easily

although all those thoughts go out the window the moment you feel his lips against yours. as cheesy as it is and no matter how long you've been dating nagumo, every time you two kiss its like time slows down and sparks fly

your hands immediately find their way around his neck, closing the distance. nagumo hums against the kiss, looks like he finally won you over

things take a turn after that and let's just say your tea is now long forgotten and maybe he may or may have not made it up to you

[chosove]

Like a Friend | g.s

synopsis. Gojo fell in love with Utahime’s stepsister the second he saw her. Unfortunately for him, you were taken. You were also about 3 years older than him. It wasn’t fairing well for Gojo since you’d always see him as the awkward kid you grew up with.

warnings. Literally none LOL I think this is cute but let me know😼 I think some parts are suggestive but other than that I fink it’s good?!

an. Um this is my first time writing like a proper fic…bare with me🥲 let me know if u like it…if not don’t tell me dawg. if this is liked I will make more parts

wc. 2k-ish

Satoru still remembers the first time he saw you.

Or rather, the first time you saw him.

He was standing on your front lawn with Utahime in front of him, a hand of his reaching behind her head to slip her hair from the accessory she held it in. He’d just arrived home after his first day of junior high school, deciding to blow off some steam upon seeing his favorite upperclassman.

“Give it back, Gojo!” Utahime shrieked, one hand gripping the hair now hanging down her shoulders after being freed from the bow she’d tied it into.

Satoru smirked as he continued to bounce the accessory above the older girl's head, laughing at her attempts to reach the ribbon.

“Aw c’mon ‘hime, ya gonna cry?” He taunted, delighting in the cherry red color her cheeks were painted with, her face contorting into pure rage.

“This is not how you treat those who are older than you!” Utahime shouted at him, now lunging towards his neck with her arms stretched out as he held her back with a hand on her forehead.

Before he could come up with a quick retort, he heard a voice speak behind him.

“Hmmm? And what would you know about respect, Utahime?”

Gojo lost focus when he turned towards the source of the sweet sound, heat rising to his cheeks as he made eye contact with the girl he identified as Utahime’s new stepsister (like really new. like, ‘6 months ago’ new. not that he kept tabs on Utahime- he’d just remember if he saw a pretty girl). Using his state of awe to her advantage, Utahime kicked at Satoru’s knees, knocking him to the ground before landing on him with a grunt and pulling her ribbon from his hands.

“First of all, you’re only like a year older than me. Second, do NOT group me in with him.“ she grimaced as she spoke the last word, a disgusted nudge of her chin towards the man on the ground.

You scoffed at her remark, finally looking towards the eyes that were burning a hole into you. “whatever you say ‘hime.“

Gojo blushed fiercely as you continued to make eye contact with him while saying the same things he did. “Doesn't really seem like you two hate each other right now…I’d go as far as saying I see a spark.”

Realizing the position he was in, he quickly shoved Utahime off of his body, ignoring the grunt that left her as she fell onto her back.

“Ew!” Gojo shouted, turning to you once he’d gotten up. “S-she wishes she were my type, as if.”

Did he just stutter?

Sure, he was a loser that loved digimon and unexplained physics problems, but usually he was the one to make people stutter. Even if he used too much axe body spray and had the odd pimple or ten- he was undeniably beautiful.

You smirked at his shy demeanor, a drastic change from the boy who had just been tormenting your younger sister in a way you thought only yourself capable of.

You turned once again towards Utahime. “You coming for dinner or you just gonna play with your boyfriend all night?” your voice teased, giggling at the anger emanating from your younger sister.

Glancing away after seeing her nod, you made eye contact with the young man in front of you- his intense gaze scanning all your features as if to memorize them.

“You’re really good at getting on her nerves y’know. She talks about how much she hates you like, all the time.”

You leaned in towards his ear before continuing. “Don't worry, I’ll put in a good word for you.”

Before he could emphasize that they really were just friends (even if Utahime says the opposite), you were skipping off to the door of your house.

It was that day he fell for you.

-

It wasn’t until about…eight years later Satoru realized he was not gonna get over you. He also realized after all these years, that maybe he wasn’t that normal about his crushes. Not in the “I’m sooo crazy, I found her moms facebook!” way- no, it was much worse.

“Listen Satoru, y’know I’m gonna support your weird shit like you do mine” Suguru sighed, shaking his head in disapproval as they continued walking deeper into the Victoria’s Secret you worked at. “But isn’t this kinda…too much? How do you even know she’s working today? Or wait, how do you even know she works here?”

Satoru rolled his eyes as if his best friend had just asked the most obvious question. “I looked at her schedule? Duh?” he scoffed, pausing to look at a matching set he just knew you’d look perfect in. Did you own anything from here? Were you required to wear this kinda stuff since it was your job? Your whole wardrobe was probably filled with lacy sets that would just be so easy to rip-

“Dude,” Suguru spoke while waving his hand in front of Satoru’s face. “I’m gonna ignore the borderline stalker shit you just said, plus the fact you’re gonna cream your pants while touching some discount thongs, but why would she even talk to the creepy guys from her neighborhood?”

Suguru had endured every awkward stage Satoru went through- mostly because he was right next to him for it all. From their secret obsession with soap operas and cheesy rom-coms, all the way to those nights of stealing their parents alcohol which would end with Satoru crying as he wondered why you wouldn’t like him back- Suguru stayed.

Unfortunately for Satoru, the boyish charm of this crush wore off when Satoru started doing lowkey scary shit like finding out where and when you worked, for example.

Gently setting down the lingerie he had made a mental note to buy as a first date gift for you (he wasn’t getting ahead of himself, you were gonna be head over heels in no time), he shook his head at his best friend.

“Suguru, Suguru, Suguru” he sighed, placing his hands on his friends shoulders in exasperation. “Obviously you know nothing about love- first of all” Satoru began, puffing his chest out to signal he had no shame over his crush-turned-obsession. “Girls love surprises and grand gestures. This is like, two in one. Second, I didn’t STALK. I mean sure, I did beg Utahime to use the washroom since I ‘conveniently lost my key’ just to get into their house…but thats like, cute.”

Satoru was glad to finally put an end to Suguru’s disapproval when he saw his friend's mouth agape, proud of his actions which were 100% reasonable to him. It wasn’t until he felt a soft hand snake around his shoulders that he realized Suguru still thought he was psycho, it was just the person he was psycho about that made Suguru’s jaw drop.

“Moving this fast with our little ‘hime, hm?”

Snapping back, Satoru flushed deeply at your implication, also wondering how much you’d just heard.

“N-no way!” Gojo nearly shouted, hands desperately waving in front of him to indicate that the only person he’d ever consider in Utahime’s family was you.

You giggled at his wide eyes as you shoved his shoulder, the melody of your laughter becoming his new favourite sound. “I’m kidding ‘toru,”

Oh.

Oh God.

He really was gonna cream his pants- would it be weird if he called you a nickname too? He had so many he wanted to try out, plus he had the practice to back it up- he spent so many nights trying out the different pet names he could call you while he thought of caressing your body, the sound of your voice crying toru toru toru ringing in his ears as he-

“I’m assuming you’re here for a girl though, yeah?” you questioned, watching as the boy behind him shoved Gojo forward. He got so lost in his thoughts that he forgot the main topic of all his wet dreams was right in front of him.

Awaiting his nod of confirmation, you reached across him to grab a light blue pair of lingerie, body pressed against his while you dug through the bins of lace behind him.

He’d be more excited over the color and the fact it matched his eyes if it weren’t for the fact he could feel your tits pressed right against him.

Would it be wrong if he took a peak? Maybe he could pretend to fall and ‘accidentally’ land face first into your chest.

“This one’s my boyfriend's favorite.” you sighed dreamily, fingers running against the frilly edges while you reminisced on what he assumed to be very mediocre nights with your boyfriend.

Huh.

“Looks good on, but even better off” you spoke, outlining the pretty floral details detailing the set. You leaned in to speak in his ear, “plus, it’s super easy to remove, if you get what I mean.” finishing with a wink.

He gulped and nodded at your (far too extensive in his opinion) knowledge.

“S-sounds good, can you ring me up?” Satoru asked, grabbing the set from your hands and racing to the register.

You and Suguru both stared at his broad back nearly falling on his way to the checkout, a curious smirk forming on your lips before you strolled over to the counter. It felt weird seeing the little kids next door grow into…men. Of course Satoru was buying lingerie- he’d grown so handsomely into his lanky feature, now filling out the shirts that you swore were baggy on him just a few years ago.

You carefully scanned the set, folding it oh so prettily before placing it in the sleek black bag, finishing the purchase with a hot pink tissue paper to cushion the bag. Satoru watched your hands methodically do this process as his mind went a hundred miles a minute.

No, Satoru didn’t know what size it was.

Yes, he was devastated at the fact you had some sleazy, lowlife boyfriend (who wasn’t him).

Yes, he was painfully hard from your proximity and suggestive language.

As far as priorities go for him, his goal right now was to successfully make it out of here without you seeing the heartbreak on his face or the fact he got a boner after being near you for like 5 minutes.

It felt like years before you finally passed him the card machine, beginning to speak but quickly being cut off as a beep! rang out and the bag was ripped from your hands. “Did you need a recei-“

“NO THANKS GOTTA GO SEEYOULATERMAYBETHANKSBYETHANKS” Satoru shouted, crumpling the package in his hands and speeding out the doors to his car, Suguru on his tail.

It wasn’t until he was out of the mall that he finally took a breath, the realization that fuck, he actually didn’t have a chance with you? really hitting him.

Yeah, he was a creep who sometimes stared with his mouth open for a bit too long when you would ask him something. And okay sure you saw his awkward phase with braces, then the lisp he had from retainers, then braces again because he didn’t wear his retainers- but still, he was attractive enough right?

Preparing for a scolding from Suguru for almost leaving him behind, Satoru didn’t hide the heartbreak written across his face.

“Hey, I’m sorry man…There’s so many girls who’d die to get a chance with you, don’t worry” Suguru comforted, patting his friends back as he rested his head on the steering wheel.

mumbling something to the floor of the car, Satoru groaned loudly before finally picking his head up. “Not worried. just annoyed. Gonna be harder now.” Satoru whined, closing his eyes as he recalled the way you bit your lip and squeezed his arms. Was he imagining it or did you need him just as bad?

Hearing no clever retort from his friend, Satoru turned his head to find Suguru with pure confusion etched on his features.

“Fuck it. Never let your boyfriend stop you from finding your husband, right?” Satoru spoke, key turning in the ignition as he was filled with a new dedication.

One way or another, Satoru was going to make you see how good you two would be together.

Preferably an easy way where you confessed your love to him first so he didn’t have to fold, but somehow nonetheless.

[odinsblog]

@the-explorers-journal

I do not disagree with what you’ve said here. I would only like to add: SOMETIMES it absolutely is easier to destroy something than to create meaningful change … however … sometimes effecting long lasting, meaningful change is quite easy.

I am loathe to use him as even a negative example, but by denying Obama the opportunity to seat his SCOTUS choice (ineffective and milquetoast as Merrick Garland is), Mitch McConnell very easily made a long lasting change. Trump and the Republicans—even though some of their edicts will undoubtedly be overturned—are giving a master class on how easy it is to make lasting change (yes, even though it’s change for the worse).

And I want to be absolutely crystal clear here on two things:

1) Not all marginalized and oppressed people who are desperate for meaningful change are bomb-throwers who are being “too impatient” or “not being pragmatic enough.” I feel (perhaps wrongly) as though that may have been an unspoken implication/accusation in what you said in your post. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. had quite a lot to say about members of the oppressor class calmly calling for “patience” and “pragmatism” from the people who are being marginalized and oppressed 24/7/365. The people who aren’t hurting, who have some privileges - they do not get to dictate what is or is not “the appropriate timeframe” for change to occur. Time and pragmatism™ are luxuries that many oppressed people simply cannot afford. Taking the same approach for every problem isn’t wise; sometimes pragmatism might actually be the wisest course of action, but many other times, we need to adhere to the fierce urgency of NOW!

2) As a very simple example, I want to highlight times (for immigration policy and to raise the minimum wage) when Joe Biden and the Democrats actually could have effected long lasting and meaningful change, but opted not to because they were supposedly “overridden” by an unelected official—the Senate Parliamentarian—who Republicans have overridden multiple times before to swiftly make their changes into longer lasting law.

I guess what I’m saying is, sometimes you need elected officials in power who not only “understand” the pain of marginalized groups, but who also actually want to be supporters and active partners with said groups to help make long lasting, meaningful change possible.

Being practical, pragmatic and patient absolutely do have their virtues and benefits. No doubt. BUT … sometimes, maybe just maybe, sometimes simply taking full advantage of a low hanging opportunity that is right in front of you, that is also prudent, practical and pragmatic,no??

Sometimes, being “pragmatic” just means fucking going for it while you still can! Stated differently, do all the good you can while you have the power to do so, without worrying about whether or not your opponents will say mean things about you. On this concept, Republicans understand and execute. Republicans sure as shit were not worried about what Democrats might think or say about them as they rolled back Roe, elected a fascist, and cheered for a Nazi doing a Nazi salute at the presidential inauguration.

I am not suggesting that Democrats break the law and lie and disinform voters the way that Republicans always do. But what I am suggesting is that Democrats swing at slow moving balls that lazily come straight across the plate. They don’t gotta swing at everything, but they dO gotta stop trying to bunt at absolutely everything and anything. In other words, they cannot be so damned afraid of (gasp!) offending conservative voters who aren’t everrrr going to vote for Democrats in significant numbers.

Democrats have already tried this strategy:

Maybe just for shits and giggles, they could try acquiescing to … Idk … the progressive base??

And before anyone goes there, I am not a “traitor” or a closet Republican because I’m demanding that my elected officials (Democrats) work harder for me than for white conservative voters. They work for me, allegedly.

Sometimes, the easiest and best way to help people is to just help them, without making any political calculations. Maybe not always, but damn, having those immigration laws and a higher federal minimum wage codified into law would have helped BIG time. And it was before Trump stacked the court.

Sometimes patience is a virtue. Sometimes it ain’t.

And quite frankly, if the Democrats cannot stop Republican fascists, then what good are they?

Anyway, I really hope that I didn’t come across as hostile or anything. But I am unambiguously Black and I have LGBTQ family members, and non-English speaking relatives, and I am feeling the fierce urgency of, not now, but right now. ✌🏿🫡

[anthurak]

"I'd like to hear him out..."

(credit to @phuezo for the awesome art XD)

So here’s a fun little AU concept for the past couple months since Mastermind aired and people started throwing around ‘What if Charlie (or Lucifer) was at Blitzo’s trial?’ ideas:

What if Vaggie didn’t (entirely) lose her wings to Lute’s attack? Meaning that Charlie actually KNOWS that Vaggie is an angel from the beginning. And leading to Vaggie not hiding her identity by pretending to be a sinner and instead be generally open about her past as an angel and exorcist. Which I think could have some rather interesting ripple effects.

Now I realize it might be a bit headscratching how ‘Vaggie doesn’t lose her wings’ leads to ‘Charlie (and Vaggie) showing up at Blitzo’s trial’, but hear me out.

First off, I think the ‘How’ of this divergence is actually pretty easy to imagine; instead of ripping her wings off, Lute decides to inflict a different kind of sadistic torture on Vaggie. Terribly maiming her wings to prevent her from flying, but still leaving her wings to make it clear just what she is. Basically, Lute and Adam fully expect Vaggie to be torn apart by vengeful demons.

But in true dramatically ironic fashion, Vaggie is NOT found by the ‘evil, terrible demons’ that Lute and Adam (and even Vaggie herself) were expecting, but by Charlie Morningstar. And I think we can all agree that Vaggie happening to have a pair of angel wings would NOT meaningfully change Charlie’s reaction to finding her in the slightest.*

Charlie still basically falls for Vaggie at first sight, takes her in and patches her up and gives her a home. And in this version, after it becomes clear that Vaggie’s wings aren’t healing, Charlie also calls in a favor from Uncle Ozzie to design some cool cybernetics/prosthetics to give Vaggie full wing-functionality back. And after a while, Charlie and Vaggie fall in love and start dating just like they did in canon, possibly even sooner/stronger given that Vaggie doesn’t have the specter of hiding who she is from Charlie hanging over her in this version.

And this is where we get to one of those interesting ripple-effects of this change.

Because I think it is VERY likely (as in, I imagine we’ll actually see this come up in the actual show) that Charlie’s belief in sinner-redemption and drive to help sinners in large part came from Vaggie. Specifically in that Charlie believed that Vaggie was a sinner. As in, Charlie falling in love with someone who she thought was a sinner was a MAJOR factor in Charlie believing that sinners could be redeemed and general drive to help them.

Now obviously I’m not suggesting that Vaggie was the only reason or that Charlie wouldn’t care about the sinners otherwise. At the same time, I think it’s a bit ridiculous to assume that Charlie believing the woman she loves was a sinner all that time wasn’t a major contributor to her motivation in ‘making a hotel to redeem sinners’. Or that Charlie knowing Vaggie WASN’T a sinner from the beginning couldn’t put her on a different path…

Basically, this version of events with Charlie falling in love with ‘Vaggie the fallen angel/former exorcist’ instead of ‘Vaggie the human sinner’ ends up rippling out to lead Charlie to focus not on the problems of the human sinners, but rather the problems faced by the hellborn demons.

Say for example; because Charlie knows that Vaggie is an angel, and thus almost certainly NOT bound to the Pride Ring, the pair end up taking a few trips/dates to see the other rings. Particularly given that Vaggie already know Asmodeus.

But in the process of these trips, Charlie starts noticing many of the issues faced by the hellborn demons. Many of which she doesn’t remember from back when her father was running things…

Basically this ties into another theory I’ve had since Mastermind that a lot of the societal issues we see in Helluva Boss are the result of, or at least have been heavily exacerbated by, Lucifer’s long ABSENCE from ruling thanks to his centuries-long depressed isolation. Something that I think Mastermind pretty heavily hints at given everything we see from Satan in that episode. And that at some point, Hazbin Hotel is going to show Charlie having to DEAL with many of these issues as part of her arc of growing into a leader and future ruler of Hell.

And in this version of events, instead of being drawn to wanting to help the human sinners, Charlie is drawn to wanting to help the hellborn demons. Basically, since her father clearly isn’t doing his job, perhaps SHE should step up and try doing it instead?

And of course, Vaggie is right at her side through ALL of this. In fact, she may even be a bit more gung-ho about it, given that it probably feels to her a bit more feasible than ‘redeeming sinners’.

This all leads to Charlie pushing herself not so much into ‘replacing’ her father outright as ‘ruler’ of Hell, but rather starting to assume a kind of regency position. Not full-on ‘ruling’ (yet), but still starting to assume some of the roles and duties that her father has been neglecting for a couple hundred years.

And the fun thing is that nobody is really able to stop Charlie from doing any of this. After all, she IS the princess and heir apparent of the Morningstars, meaning she is well within her rights to assume a number of roles of her father. Particularly as Charlie makes it very clear that she is not trying to outright supplant her father, but is simply assuming duties that he’s been neglecting. To the point of keeping the title of ‘Princess’, or maybe ‘Princess Regent’.

Sure, some/most/all of the Goetia/other nobility might not like a lot of the ideas and goals Charlie is talking about, such as ‘Maybe the Imps, Hellhounds, etc AREN’T actually lesser and born to serve the nobility and shouldn’t be treated as such’, but there also isn’t really anything they can do to STOP her or remove her from her new position. After all, the only one with the authority truly above Charlie’s is Lucifer himself.**

And the nobles who do make a scene and/or pitch a hissy fit about Charlie’s ‘radical ideas’ tend to find themselves at the business-end of her girlfriend’s spear, sword or divinely-mailed fist. Really, in this situation Vaggie is a pretty big fucking deal all on her own, being a fallen angel and all. Certainly NOBODY is going to be judging Charlie on her choice of romantic partner. Well, maybe some sinners might judge her for dating a former exorcist, but any Hellborn demons, even the Goetia? No fucking way. Really, people would probably be making comments on how Charlie is taking after her mother.

Heck, even in the short time since Charlie started this endeavor, Vaggie’s probably earned her own title or two. ‘Blade of the Morningstar’? ‘Wings of the Princess’?

Of course it’s also worth noting that there are still some pretty hard limits to what Charlie can accomplish in terms of fixing/reforming the issues of hellish society, at least in the short term. She can’t just snap her fingers and fix classism or completely wipe out the Goetia’s authority (or the Goetia themselves). Particularly as Charlie doesn’t have the ultimate overriding authority of her father. Realistically, Charlie’s authority as Princess/Regent only just supersedes that of any of the Sins, and while that might put her above effectively ANY other one person in Hell, it also doesn’t give her absolute ‘do anything I want’ authority either. Not to mention that this is still Charlie we’re talking about, who in this timeline is still only JUST getting use to throwing her authorial weight around.

But at the same time, again there really isn’t anything anyone can do to fully STOP Charlie from doing anything either. Meaning that in the short time since assuming her new role as regent, say about a year or two, Charlie has already started making small but noticeable changes and ripples to Hell’s society.

Which brings us to this new version of Mastermind, with Charlie and Vaggie making a surprise appearance at Blitzo’s trial and Charlie actually wanting to hear the imp out. This leads to a number of other fun changes including but not limited to:

Charlie invoking both ‘Princess Regent Authority’ and ‘Favorite Niece Privileges’ to get all of the Sins voting on her side to hear Blitzo out and override literally all of the Goetia royalty.

Andy-the-not-actually-a-sister-fucker pitching a hissy fit over this and getting choke-slammed and almost speared by Vaggie.

Blitzo still finding a way to fuck up this golden opportunity by running his mouth. Because this is still Blitzo we’re talking about, and giving him a chance to talk is ALSO giving him a chance to dig himself into a deeper hole.

Stolas choosing the exact worst (and funniest) moment to dramatically burst in with his big, dramatic ‘sacrifice myself for the man I love via song number’ gambit, which actually only makes things worse/wackier when Charlie starts asking pertinent questions.

Andy pitching more hissy fits as his plans continue to unravel and getting repeatedly chokeslammed and/or kicked in the dick by Vaggie.

Striker getting dragged back in when it becomes clear there are a LOT of holes in his story, only to constantly flip-flop on his story because he can’t figure out which authority figure(s) he should be selling-out-to/kissing-up-to in order to save his own skin.

Charlie, Vaggie and even Satan becoming ever more flabbergasted as it becomes clear that the suspect (Blitzo), prosecution (Andre), defense (Stolas) and witness (Striker) in this trial are in fact ALL complete fucking idiots.

--

*Admittedly I do have one other possible change in mind to help reinforce this: rather than a sinner child, Vaggie actually spares an imp kid, or perhaps a sinner child and their imp kid best friend. Which leads to the imp kid actually leading Charlie to the injured Vaggie and also telling her that this angel actually helped them and got hurt doing so.*** Which again serves to reinforce just how wrong Adam and Lute and much of heaven are about demons.

** And if you’re going to ask ‘Why doesn’t Charlie just go to her dad directly and get him to do his job?’, remember that Charlie had to be practically dragged kicking and screaming by her girlfriend into calling up Lucifer for help in Hazbin. I think it’s pretty clear that pre-Hazbin, if Charlie can get what she’s after without getting her dad involved, she is ABSOLUTELY going to do it.

*** Also this hypothetical imp kid doesn’t actually show up again and DOES in fact have a living family, meaning that NO, Charlie and Vaggie DON’T ADOPT THEM. Because I KNOW that is exactly what some of you started thinking when I mentioned an unattended child in relative proximity to our heroines.

--

And of course, once again HUGE thanks to @phuezo for the awesome art of Charlie and Vaggie XD

[miniwheat77]

The One. (Creepy!Graves x Virgin!Reader.)

!DARK FIC, nsfw, smut, non con, dub con, proceed with caution. P in v sex, unprotected, virginity loss, scumbag!graves, oral sex m&f!receiving. NO MINORS!

“Yeah yeah, I got it.” You mumble into the phone. “She seriously can’t have any human food Y/N. I mean it.” She sighs. “I got it!” You laugh. “Look, me and Ruby are going to be just fine. I’ll feed her exactly how you wrote on the note, no more no less. She’ll get her meds. We’re gonna be alright.” You laugh. Looking down at the little crusty white dog you’ve agreed to dog sit. “Okay. Alright. I’m trusting you with this Y/N.” She groans into the phone. “When have I ever tested your trust?” You laugh. “You’re right. I know. I’m just stressed with this work trip, that’s all.” She sounds exhausted on the other end of the phone. "And outside of all of this that dog is all I've got. You know this." She huffs.

“Get some sleep alright? I’ll send you updates about Ruby everyday. I’ll see you when you come back.” You smile. “Alright. Thanks again Y/N. See you in a few days.”

You hang the phone up. You sigh, this was going to be a long few days.

Her house is a little eerie and you have a hard time falling asleep, but you do eventually, not having gotten to her house until late the night before.

It’s early in the morning when a knock at the door wakes you, you skeptically make your way down the stairs and hate the fact that she doesn’t have a peep hole. You open the door slowly. “Hey I was just wonder-“ The man looking back at you gathers a look of confusion. “Uhhh… you’re not Jennifer.” He laughs. “Uh.. yeah. She’s um.. on a work trip. So me and my boyfriend are house sitting for her.” You lie. You don’t have a boyfriend but you don’t want to tell a random man that you’re alone. “Oh okay. She borrowed my lawn mower a few days ago and it doesn’t look like she ever got around to her lawn but mine needs done here soon.. so. I was just wondering if I could get it back but it can wait a couple days. Thanks anyways.” He smiles. “I can always call and ask her.” You look up at him, he practically towers over you. “Oh no. I don’t want to bug her if she’s on a work trip, it can wait. Thanks anyways darling.” He smiles. The way he says ‘darling’ has your stomach doing flips. “I’m Phillip by the way.” He reaches out a hand. You take it. “Y/N.” You smile.

As soon as the door is closed you’re on your phone sending her a text.

So we keeping secrets now?

Wym?

I mean your hot neighbor.

Ew.

You don’t think so?

He’s kind of a creep I’ve heard.

Oof. Didn’t give me a bad vibe ;)

Oh dear. Don't go getting yourself into trouble.

You laugh at her text, making your way back up the stairs.

Later the same day, you’d gone to pick up some groceries, not wanting to eat her food. She said you could but you felt that was rude since she was only going to be gone a few days anyways. You also had to pick up the remainder of Ruby’s meds. She’s turned into quite the problem child.

As you’re making your way up the walkway, you see him working on some roses. Trimming them down a little bit. “Hey.” He smiles. “Hi.”

“I actually had a question.” He sets the trimmers down, wiping the sweat off of his forehead. “Yeah?” Under his shirt you can see just how toned he is. You approach the chain length fence that he's just on the other side of.

“You house sit a lot?” He asks. “Not usually, but I’m not against it. Why?”

“Well, my wife is a night shift nurse and I’m in the military so I’m gone quite a bit. We pay a lot for our kids to be in daycare but we don’t always trust them. You good with kids?” He asks. “Oh uh.. well. It depends. How many days a week do you think they’d need to be watched?” You ask. “Probably only 2 or 3 days a week. Few hours at a time. Just until their grandparents or aunt can get them.” You nod your head. “Yeah, I don’t think I’d mind.” You shrug. He nods. “Alright cool. I’m sure my wife would like to meet you first. Although she isn’t off until about midnight tonight though.” He mumbles. “Uhh.. I’m sure I’ll be awake by then, I can just stop by.” You shrug. “That’d be great.” He smiles.

This could turn into a pretty good job, night shift nurse, military? They’d probably be willing to pay a pretty penny for their kids to be watched and you already have some debt racked up. This could turn into something pretty damn nice. You wait around and it seems like midnight may never come. You make sure Ruby is fed and has her meds before you make your way over next door, not sure how long it may take and you don't want to leave the little dog hanging. You make sure to go over a few minutes early to make a good impression.

11:47pm

You knock at the door and he smiles when he greets you. “Hey.” He smiles. “Come on in. My wife should be off work here soon.” He smiles. You step inside. “You can have a seat on the couch, you want anything to drink?” He asks. “Oh. No I’m alright.” You smile. “Thanks though.” You take a seat on his couch. “Alright. I’m just gonna grab a beer real quick.” He smiles, walking out of the room.

How’s Ruby?

She’s good but I’m out for a minute.

What? Why?

Just a second, your neighbor asked if I’d be interested in watching his kids for him. Yknow. Since I’m such a good house sitter ;)

At midnight?

It’s when his wife is off work.

I didn’t know he was married? Or that he had kids?

He said so. He said she’d be home soon.

No, I definitely remember. He doesn’t have kids or a wife. You’re talking about the neighbor on the left side?

You’re starting to get worried. Eyes drawing up from your phone. If something happens you want her to be able to call for help but you also don’t want to be the idiot that walked right into a trap this easily.

Oh no, the one across the street.

Oh okay, jeez. Had me worried there. They nice? I’ve never met em.

Yeah, super nice. His wife just got here actually. Talk to you later. Ruby misses you.

You put your phone down, the hair on your body standing up. Worry fills you. He walks back into the room, turning the cap off of the beer.

11:53pm

“So uh.. you said you’re in the military?” You ask. “Yeah, been in since I was eighteen.” He nods. “And.. your wife’s a nurse, that’s pretty cool.” You smile. “Yeah, she doesn't mind it.” He laughs. “How old are your kids? I forgot to ask.” You glance at his left hand.

Stomach falling when you don’t see a ring. “They’re 9 and 5.” He nods. “Drive me crazy.” You’re glancing around the house. Not a toy or anything related to a woman or kids in sight. “You said your boyfriend is staying with you, how long have you both been together?” He asks. “Oh.. uh.. 3 years.” You smile. “No kids?”

“No. Not yet anyways.” You laugh. “Do you want them?” He asks. “Uhhh.. we haven’t really talked too much about it.” You laugh. You exchange more conversation as the time passes by.

12:05am

“You know.. I hate to cut this short but I’m exhausted…” you mumble. Standing up.

He stands up quickly. “She should be home any minute, really.” He laughs, gliding a hand through his hair. “Yeah I’m really sorry, I’m not usually up this late. Maybe I can come back tomorrow night or a night when she doesn’t work.” You mumble. Rubbing your eyes. Feigning tiredness.

“Alright well. I understand.” He smiles. You walk for the door, surprised when he doesn’t make a move to stop you.

You grasp the door handle, opening up the door.

It slams shut, his hand above you. A gasp leaves your lips. You freeze. You say nothing and hear nothing from him. Just his heavy breathing from behind you. “Please… let me go.”

He raises his hand, grasping your hair and moving it to your other shoulder. “I’m not trying to scare you.. promise.” He breathes. “I’m not too good at this.” He sighs. His lips are right by your ear. You tug at the door handle again but he holds it.

“Look.. just talk to me please? I promise I’m not gonna hurt you.” He breathes. “Look my boyfriend is probably really wondering where I am-“

“Y/N.” He shakes his head. “You and I both know there’s nobody over there. Just you.” His voice is quiet and deep.

“How do you know that?” Your heart thumps in your chest, so loud he can hear it.

“I live right next door sweetheart. I’ve seen you around before.” He laughs. “Just.. sit back down. We can talk this out.”

“No. I want to leave.” You breathe. “Please.. I swear. One conversation and I’ll let you go.”

You hesitate. “Fine.” You breathe. Surprised when he steps back. You turn to look at him but you don’t move away from the door. He takes another couple steps back. “Why did you lie about having a wife and kids?” You ask. “I.. just wanted you over here. I needed some kind of excuse. I think you’re.. gorgeous and I realize now how creepy that probably soun-“ you grasp the door handle and rip it open.

But you’re not fast enough.

He grasps a hold of your arm, ripping you back inside his house and slamming the door, locking it this time. He shoves you up against it. Your cheek pressed against the cool wood. He hisses, pressing his entire body into you. “Fuck- now why’d you have to go and do that hm?” He breathes. You can feel him shaking. He wraps a hand in your hair, pushing your face into the door harder. “You’re so pretty. Fuck- and you smell so good too.” He breathes. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry.” He shakes. “I know I’m a fucking creep. I’m not good at this.” His voice is shaky and he stutters when he speaks. Like he’s never done this before. Like some Virgin desperate enough to hurt for it.

“I- I just.. haven’t been with a woman in so long. And you.. my god. I knew I wanted you the moment I laid eyes on you. Knew you were the one.” He’s nearly panting as he says it. “It’s.. it’s okay Phillip- that’s your name right?” You mumble. He nods. He releases the pressure he has on you, letting you spin around to look at him. “You don’t have to do this okay?” You breathe.

“But.. I do.”

He leans into you. “You can fight me.” He breathes. His lips are nearly brushing yours. “But you don’t have to. I saw the way you were looking at me. I know you want this too.” He breathes. “Don’t make me hurt you.”

You can feel tears gathering in your eyes. This is what you get for being so trusting. “Okay… okay.” You take in a shaky breath. “Don’t cry… please. I promise I’ll be good to you okay?” You nod. Closing your eyes tight. His lips brush yours and you take in a deep breath. He presses his to yours fully, and this is happening one way or another so you ignore what this really is. You don’t kiss him back. He kisses you hard, hands on your hips, pushing them up your shirt. When he finally pulls away your lips are blushing.

“I.. I’m sorry.” He breathes. He wipes his face in frustration. “Can we start over?” He breathes. Your cheeks are still wet with tears. “I.. I’m Phillip. I’m single, no kids. I’m in the military.” He laughs. He inhales through his nose. He sticks his hand out for you to shake.

He sees the slightest tug at the corner of your lips.

“I… I’m Y/N. I’m also single, and I’m dog sitting next door.” You breathe. Taking his hand.

“And.. that’s probably not what you should’ve started with.” You breathe. Eyes flashing to his lips and than back to his eyes. “What?”

“You should’ve said, ‘Hi. I’m Phillip. And I’m so horny that I look like a creep and force myself onto people.’ Maybe.” You laugh, looking down. He smiles. It’s obviously a sad smile. “God.. when you say it like that.” He breathes. “I swear I’m not usually like this.” He shakes his head. “Haven’t been with a woman in years but there’s something about you.” He trails off, shaking his head. “I’ve seen you around but talking to you was an entirely different ballgame. My god…” He breathes. “I am a creep, shit.” He breathes. “It’s okay.” You sigh. “I mean it’s not but.. I’ll let it go.” You breathe.

“Okay. I.. you can go alright? I’m sorry.”

You shake your head.

“What?”

“The proper way to get a girl alone, is to invite her over for dinner sometime. Not lie about having a wife and kids. Total turn off.” You laugh. “But lucky for you, I’m nice so I’ll let it slide.” You take a deep breath. “If you do that shit to me again though I might have to fight you. So just.. keep your hands to yourself and we’ll be alright.” You laugh. Your heart is still thumping in your chest. He didn’t seem like a violent man, but he’d just tried to force himself on you so you couldn’t assume too much more. He raises his hands in surrender. “Promise.”

“How long have you been in the military?” You ask. “I didn’t lie about that part. Since I was eighteen.” He nods. He skeptically sits down. You can tell he doesn’t want you to leave. “And how old are you?” You ask. “Thirty-five.” Your eyes widen. “Jesus.” You laugh. “What?”

“Older than I thought.” You mumble. Seeing as you’re still in your mid-twenties. “You.. want to watch a movie or something?” He asks. “Uh. Yeah fine whatever.” You mumble, sitting down.

Your brain is fried, should you take him being so into you that he nearly forces himself on you as a compliment?

You sit down away from him, the both of you agreeing on a movie.

You’re getting tired but you know you can’t fall asleep here, so you finish the movie and go back next door without any more issues.

———

“Hey.” He smiles. “I uh.. brought beer.” You laugh. He’s invited you to his house once again. Properly this time.

You step inside and he closes the door behind you. You’d picked a new movie to watch this time. It’d just come out. You take your places, you’d set Ruby up with some food and water and a couple treats so she was asleep when you left. He starts the movie and opens a beer, sitting where he usually does.

About halfway through the movie is when a sex scene comes on. The first of any of the movies you’d watched. You notice him shift uncomfortably. By the end of the scene, he’s palming himself in the dark. You can barely see it. You chew at your lip nervously. He’s laying back on the smaller love seat to your right, he can’t see you as easily as you see him. He clearly doesn’t know that.

When the movie is over, he’s got one hand behind his head, his eyes are closed. His lips are parted slightly, he’s clearly fallen asleep. You smile. You stand up, walking around. You cross your arms and bite your lip, thinking of what to do.

Should you just leave?

Since his arm is draped behind his head like a pillow, his shirt has raised. Showing off his toned stomach. Your eyes travel further down, seeing that he’s still hard. Must be dreaming.

Fuck it.

You slide one knee over him, straddling his knees. It’s a little uncomfortable because the couch isn’t too big seeing as it’s a love seat. You expect him to wake up or even stir but he doesn’t. Deep sleeper.

You reach for his jeans, unbuttoning them. Unzipping them and tugging them down around his cock. He’s still hard. You’re being rough and he still hasn’t woken up. You lower yourself down, taking him into your mouth. You’re gentle at first. Toying with him to see how he’ll react in his sleep. It takes a while for him to let out a whine and shift slightly. Taking in a breath. You take him further, hollowing your cheeks and sucking. Bobbing your head up and down his shaft. Making sure not to put too much pressure on him. He takes in a jagged breath. He moans out again. “Fuck- Y/N-“ he hisses. You think he’s woken up.

Your eyes snap to his face but his eyes are still shut. It’s you he’s dreaming about. Maybe he really did just like you.

You keep up the pace. His breaths getting heavier and more frequent, until he’s panting. He’s right on the edge. His eyes tighten. He’s really close. He’s never been this close before in a dream. Why is he so-

His eyes snap open, widening when he sees you on him.

“O-oh fuck.” He breathes. “Y/N- what are you-“ his lips open.

“Wait-“ he hisses, you don’t. You don’t relent for even a second.

You can’t deny it, he’s hot and he wants you.

He’s pathetic

“Sh- oh my god…” He breathes. The muscles in his stomach tense up as you start sucking at the tip of his cock. “Fuck baby- fuck..” he breathes. “Look at me.” He hisses, his teeth are gritted. Your eyes snap up to his and he moans out, resting his back on the couch, looking down at you. “Fuck.. I’m gonna-” He groans. His eyes screw shut and he cries out. He rocks his hips forward and you swallow down a gag.

He bucks his hips again, crying out a final time as he finishes down your throat. Panting as you clean him up. “Fuck… you didn’t have to do that.” He breathes. You finally look up at him, moving up further and straddling his still hard cock. He gasps when the seam of your jeans rub against him.

“Phillip?” You say. Your voice is unsteady and rough. “Yeah?”

“You’re pathetic.” He laughs. “And you still sucked my cock.”

You roll your eyes. “It’s because you’re hot, creep.” You go to stand up, but he stops you. “Where do you think you’re going?”

You laugh. “Well I was going to go home.”

“You really want to leave after that?”

You shrug. “Why don’t you stay a while.” He chews at his lip, hand gripping his hard cock again. “Or maybe I’ll just give you no choice.” He smirks.

You roll your eyes at him. “What are you going to do?”

“At least.. meet you in the middle.” You look away from him. “Yeah, I’ll be honest. No one’s ever done that before.” You go to stand up but he stops you again. “Done what?” He asks. You roll your eyes, looking away from him.

“No one’s ever gone down on you before?”

You try to hide the smile of embarrassment. “Have you ever.. done any of this before?” He asks.

You swallow hard. Avoiding his gaze. “Shit… are you a Virgin?” He asks. You look down, setting your hands in your lap. The way you fidget with your hands is enough for him to know that you are. “Damn baby. I had no idea. I’m sorry I came on so strong before.”

You can’t help but hide your face, hearing him laugh. He grips your wrists, tugging them down. “Have you ever gone down on anyone else before, like that?” He asks. “No.”

He smiles. “You really had me fooled because.. that’s the hardest I’ve probably ever cum.” He laughs. He’s so straight forward you. You don’t know how to take him. “You’re already a pro and I haven’t shown you anything yet.”

“Yet?” You laugh. “Yeah. Yet.” He rests his hands on your thighs. His cock is still exposed. Still hard and blushing red. “You’re a bad girl, waking me up like that.” He laughs.

“Yeah right, like I couldn’t see you palming yourself through the entire movie.” You roll your eyes.

He sits up, you go to move off of him but he stops you, lifting you up with it. He sits you down on the couch like you would normal. “Slide your hips to the edge.” He nods. “What?”

“M’gonna eat that pretty pussy. Cmon.” He reaches for your waistband. “I- I haven’t shaved and I’m-“

He laughs. “Look at me.” He lifts your chin, forcing you to look up at him

“I don’t give a fuck. I’m a man not a boy. Take your pants off.” He’s stern.

You swallow hard. Nodding your head. “Y-yes sir.” The words leave your lips before you even realize it. “I- I mean!”

“It’s okay. You’re working yourself up for nothing. Relax.” He wants to taunt you but doesn’t want to take this too far.

When your pants are finally off, you have your legs shut tight. It’s amusing, how nervous you are.

“Slide your hips to the edge and spread your legs for me baby. Go on.”

You take in a deep breath. Your heart thumps hard in your chest, he can hear it. He lowers himself to his knees as you do what he says, skeptically opening your legs. You’ve still got panties on. He holds onto your knees, opening your legs even more. “Fuck. You’re so pretty.” He licks his lips. He’s ready to devour you. He’s got it in his eyes.

He runs his thumb over your clothed pussy, rubbing back and forth over your clit through your panties. You take in a deep breath. “No one has ever touched you here before?” He taunts. You shake your head. “No.”

“Shame for them. And you of course. Not for me.” He laughs. “I get you all to myself.”

He lowers his head, gliding his tongue across your panties. You moan out, watching him tease you. He flicks his tongue over your clit through them, he can feel you shiver. Desperate for him to actually touch you. He uses the tips of his fingers to slide your panties to the side. Biting his lip when he finally gets a good look at you. “Fuck…” he draws it out. It’s nearly a moan when it leaves his lips. “You’re so wet..” He breathes. He glides his tongue up your slit, flicking it over your clit just once. You tense up, the sensitivity has you whining. “Phillip please!” You cry.

He holds your hands to your side so that you can’t touch him. He laughs. “Be patient. Don’t you want your first time to be special?” He smirks. Your eyes are glossy and your cheeks are flushed. You’re turned on and he can see it in your eyes. He lets go of your hands and leans in. He’s going to seal the deal. He draws his tongue over your clit again, but this time he doesn’t let up. He keeps the steady pace, flattening his tongue across it and abusing it.

He doesn’t stop or give you a break, keeping the pace and force on your clit. You’re squirming in no time. Whining and crying out for him. You’ve got a hand in his hair, tugging it slightly. He likes the way it feels. He draws away for just a second, gathering his saliva on his fingers and gliding them down. Returning his tongue back to your clit. You don’t realize what he’s going to do until he’s already done it. He slides a soaked finger into your hole, feeling you tense up hard at the intrusion. Your breath gets caught in your throat. He doesn’t give you a chance to adjust. He pumps his finger into you at a fast pace.

You’re not going to last.

You’re nearly sobbing when he brings you to the edge. He sucks at your clit, fingering your pussy until you can’t even form a single word or thought.

When you reach your peak, you sob. Crying out louder than you’ve ever been. He keeps the pace until you squirm, stopping him.

When he finally pulls away, his lips and cheeks are flushed. His face glistens in your arousal. He smiles, licking his lips. He wipes his face with the back of his hand. “How do you feel baby? I make you feel good?”

You nod your head. He’s put you into a daze.

He laughs at your fucked out state.

“If you thought that was good.. you should see what my cock would do to you.” He glides his middle finger down your wet opening, sliding it back into your blushing hole. You whine out again. It’s too much.

“I’d stretch you so much more.. and reach so much deeper.” He slides his finger in and out of you slow, barely moving it. “You’d feel so full.” He breathes.

“You want to feel me baby? Think you can take it?”

You think for a second. You’re already sprawled out on his couch.

You nod your head.

“Atta girl.”

He exposes himself once more. He glides the tip of his cock over your slit. Gathering the arousal that’s still there from when he’d devoured you. “I’ve opened you up quite a bit already, you’re ready for me now.”

He notches the tip right at the entrance and pushes into you slow. He was right. He’s stretching you a lot.

It’s uncomfortable but he’d made your body ready for him.

He rubs circles over your clit as he pushes deeper and deeper. Keeping you stimulated. Your body takes him right in. When he’s almost there, you start to tense up. He knows he’s hurting you. Going deeper than anything you’ve ever taken, “it’s alright. You’re doing so good baby. Just keep your legs spread for me.”

You wrap your arms under your knees, spreading your legs further. You watch as he slides deeper. His cock disappearing into you.

It’s getting tighter and hurting more. “I-it hurts Phillip.” You whine. “It’s okay. Nearly there doll.” He keeps rubbing circles into your clit with his thumb. He jerks forward, hearing you cry out as he forces himself the rest of the way in. Drawing his hand back from you. “There we go- all done.” He breathes. You have tears in your eyes. “I know it hurts but it’ll never have to hurt again okay. Look at me.” He nods. Your eyes snap to his. “There’s my girl. Doing so good.” He shakes his head. He draws his hips back and slides back into you, slow. He nods his head while looking at you. “You’re taking me so well baby. So good. Just keep relaxed for me.”

The pain starts to ease. He’d hurt you pretty badly right there at the end.

It takes you a few minutes to get fully used to him. Even after that, it’s a foreign feeling. Not quite comfortable but not entirely uncomfortable either. You feel nothing.

He can see it in your face that you’re not enjoying it, but he knows exactly how to change that.

He fills you completely, the backs of your thighs flush with his hips. He’s buried completely inside of you. He nods. “Slide your hips back a little bit.” He moves with you as you do as he says. “Open your legs just a little more- perfect.”

“Now lay back completely and relax. Okay?”

You nod your head. Still feeling uncomfortable. “Perfect, try to relax now. It’s going to be a lot.”

You don’t understand what he means until he draws back and thrusts in again. Right up against that spongy spot inside of you. Your eyes widen and you gasp when he does. Chills rise on your skin. He laughs at your reaction. “Found it.”

He picks up his pace, fucking into you harder, going even deeper. The squelch from your pussy getting wetter around him has you blushing. You’re already overstimulated but he’s got you closing in on another orgasm. Your clit throbs and he doesn’t forget to give it attention too. Rubbing his thumb over it again. It’s nearly too much.

“Look at me.”

You raise your eyes to look at him, swallowing hard.

“You’re doing so good. You feeling good baby?” He asks. You nod your head. He can tell you’re getting close again. “I’m going to cum in you.”

Your eyes widen and you shake your head. He laughs. “Don’t worry, we’ll take care of it.” He smiles. “Phillip- no-“

“Shhh.. just relax baby. You get the full experience. It doesn’t count, not until I fill your pussy full.”

You start to squirm. You’re not ready for a baby and even if you take something, then what?

He keeps his pace and holds you still, using one hand to force your hands together. You can’t help it. The way he stimulates you. You cry out, soaking his cock in your orgasm. The first time ever cumming around a cock. “Oh god.. I’m gonna cum so deep baby- I’m gonna cum so fucking deep inside of you.” You squirm hard, trying to wiggle away, but he’s got you pinned. He draws his hand back, holding both of your wrists with both of his hands. He’s got a death grip on you.

He thrusts in as deep as he can and pauses, your eyes widen when you feel him. He cums right up against your wall, the force has your eyes widening.

You can’t believe him!

When he’s calmed down, you shove him back.

“Woah- hey. What’s wrong?”

You look pissed off.

“Y-you’re such an asshole!” You hiss. You hurry to tug your clothes back on but he’s trying to stop you the entire time.

“Don’t touch me!” You growl. “And don’t come near me again.” You go for his door and he tries to stop you but you slam the door behind yourself before he gets the chance.

“Shit.” He mumbles.

Just when you start to trust him, he fucks it all up.

[perfectlyvalid49]

I think that there are some people who are unfamiliar with the history of antisemitism who aren’t seeing all the different angles of attack that are being used against Jews in the United States right now, so let’s take a minute to examine them.

First, there’s the super obvious attacks that are listed here. The shootings at Tree of Life and at Poway, the Unite the Right rally, the massive increase in antisemitic hate crimes – these are all obviously antisemitic, and really difficult to deny as such unless you’re already really antisemitic.

But we have to take a step back and ask why people are becoming increasingly violent against Jews. Because that’s where there’s antisemitism that a lot of people either don’t see, or refuse to acknowledge. And that’s what @procrazedfan is missing when they said “I don’t think so this time.”

So, I want to start by talking about about the Nazis. Because they also went after non-Jewish people. They targeted non-Aryans, trans people, the rest of the LGBT+ community, and eventually people of other faiths. That list looks awfully similar to the one upthread. But Nazis went after these people because they thought that they were tools Jews were using to destroy German society. And the Republicans are going after these people because they’re tools that the globalists are using to destroy white society. And by globalist, they absolutely mean Jew. There are a million conspiracy theories floating around about why things are so terrible, and virtually all of them point to globalists (Jews), or the Rothschilds (Jews) or George Soros (a Jew) as the base of the problem.

And before anyone starts to think that this is only a problem on the right, the left has the same sort of conspiracies, just tailored to their beliefs, and using the words "Zionist" or "Israel" to mean Jews instead. Trump is in power, at least in part, because the left was too busy attacking Jews or people they perceived to be allies of Jews to even consider the harms a Trump presidency might bring.

And if you’re response to that is, “Well, yeah, but Jews aren’t being directly targeted by Trump’s policies,” then first off, you’re wrong, a lot of Jews are being/will be directly harmed by the laws enforcing Christian supremacy that he’s enabling (just as a start), but also, you’re falling for the plan. You see, for centuries, when kings didn’t want the populace mad at them, they’d find a way to redirect to the Jews. In medieval Europe, this looked like making tax collector one of the few jobs available to Jews, and then getting the commoners mad at the tax *collectors* instead of the guy levying the tax. Hundreds of years later Jews STILL have a reputation of being greedy, even though they were basically just guys who worked for the IRS because the other option was to starve.

Under Trump, it’s going to look like Jews not being the target of legislation that hurts other people. When those people and their allies are rightfully mad that they’re being hosed, it will not be hard for a few people in the right places to shift that anger from the administration (where it belongs) onto the people the administration wants you mad at.

We’re already starting to see this in action. Trump is cracking down on the pro-Palestine protesters in the name of fighting antisemitism. He’s actually testing out how far he can go with limiting freedom of speech and doesn’t care at all about antisemitism, but because he says it’s to fight antisemitism, people who care about freedom of speech are going to be mad about Jews “weaponizing antisemitism” to silence their detractors, and not at the administration that’s actually doing the silencing.

People are going to be mad under the Trump administration. I cannot imagine a future in which he does not make things worse for almost everyone*, and I think it’s going to be bad enough that the populace is going to need the pressure release of a mass violent action, and that’s where this is all going to come together. The right and left both already have conspiracies about how what they’re mad about is the Jews’ fault, and the administration is going to stoke that by making it look like we’re benefiting from their bad actions. They’re coming for us, it’s just slow enough and subtle enough that people who have forgotten what it looked like in the past won’t see it.

*I actually think that with what he’s going to for climate change, he’ll make things worse for actually everyone, even the people who benefit the most from his administration, but that’s a separate rant.

"The fascists hate you too" "they'll come for you next" bitch they are coming for me first. I'm fucking Jewish

[bloodysword63]

Becoming One Of The Dudes...

Jack was not in the mood to deal with anybody's bullshit today especially the guys that were watching him as he walked across the common area at the university. He was tall, thin and was going to college for a degree and not figure out how many women he could pick up on the weekend.

"Dude!" one of the guys he was trying to avoid called out but Jack kept walking.

"Hey! JACK! I'm fucking talking to you you little shit!" the guy said for the second time and Jack grumbled and turned to look. "Come on over here Jack... don't be scared!"

Jack rolled his eyes and looked quickly at his phone. He could just turn and walk away but decided what the fuck. He sighed and walked over to the four guys who were more interested in the gym than actually learning anything in the classroom.

"Yeah?" Jack asked disinterested. "What do you want Mike?"

Mike, who was one of the backup linemen for the college football team, smiled and said, "I was just wondering if you could help me with studying for the exam next week. Without a good grade, I'm going to be dropped from the team."

"Well, if you actually did the assignments and read what you needed to read, then you wouldn't have a problem with your grades now would you?" Jack replied.

Mike stood up and glared down at Jack and could feel his muscles flex. For a moment, Jack felt drawn to Mike not only for the feeling of power coming from him but the desire to be just another one of the guys. "Listen you little shit..." Mike said before of the other guys also on the football team interjected. "Mike, relax will you?" he said.

Jack felt weird for a moment as was worried that he was about to become a bloody smear on the ground before Mike relaxed and grinned. "Sorry man... just we've got an important game this weekend and all the stress from that," Mike said. "I just need help and I know you're the one that can help me."

Jack looked at the other two guys with Mike and tried to remember their names. Tyler and James. Right. Tyler was the one who interrupted Mike's rage moment and James looked as thought he was on the poster child for muscle men everywhere.

Jack sighed and said, "Sure Mike. How about tomorrow night? Can you spare a few hours from the gym?"

Mike nodded and said, "Yep. Definitely can. No worries buddy."

Jack turned away and walked on not realizing that Mike and the other two were eyeing him as not a study partner but a new initiate into the muscle world.

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

The following evening, Jack looked around his dorm room hoping that he had everything. Mike had offered the common room in his dorm as a place to study and Jack agreed. Most of the football players were in the same dorm which made it easy to keep an eye on everybody.

Jack walked over just after sunset and the stars were just coming out. He turned towards Mike's dorm and saw him standing outside the front door with a smile on his face. Jack walked up to him and said, "Evening Mike. Ready to cram for an exam?"

"If it's as bad as cramming for a game, not sure if I want to but I'm willing to try," Mike said as he opened the door to the dorm and motioned Jack inside.

A few minutes later Jack and Mike were sitting in the common room where Jack was going through the wonderful world of statistical analysis when Mike turned to Jack and asked, "Dude. Sorry if this is personal but have you always been this skinny?"

The question caught Jack off guard for a moment before he nodded. "I get it from my grandfather. He was tall and thin and no matter what I do, I can't gain much weight."

"Ever think about taking something?"

"You mean what... roids? Is that what you take? Jack asked looking at Mike.

"Roids? Nah. This is all natural work," Mike said as he flexed a bicep. "Well... not all natural."

"Supplements?" Jack asked. "Of course you would take supplements."

"Yeah, something like that," Mike responded with. "Give me a second. Be right back."

Mike got up from the table and Jack's heart raced for a moment. Although he considered himself straight, there was a part of him that was envious of what Mike had.

A minute later, Mike returned with a bottle of what was white pills. "Here," Mike said. "Take one of these before you go to bed and see how you feel in the morning. It's something I took when I was first starting out. I beat you it'll make you feel better."

Jack sighed and heard about the 'get muscles fast by taking a pill' fad that was always on the internet. He grabbed the bottle and sighed before putting them in his backpack.

"Can we get back to work?" Jack asked and Mike nodded.

Later that evening, Jack was sitting on his bed about ready to fall asleep when he saw the bottle in his backpack about ready to hit the floor. Jack got up and grabbed the bottle and walked over to the garbage can to throw it out but after a moment's hesitation he thought what could it hurt. If anything, he would feel sick for a day and go back to his normal nerd self.

Opening the bottle, he took the two pills that were inside and swallowed it. Jack looked at himself in the mirror and saw no instant changes. He went back to bed and laid down and went to sleep.

The following morning, Jack woke up with a groan. Something was different for sure. He sat up and looked down at his body and there was definitely something strange. His pajamas were tighter than normal and just moving felt strange like he had gained a few pounds overnight.

Getting up, Jack went into the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. What looked back at him was somebody he didn't recognize. His face looked more mature, his hair seemed to be fuller but the biggest change was that he had actually had muscle on his tall frame. Not football level muscle but definitely some muscle. Thinking this was a dream, Jack shook his head and smacked himself a few times.

Looking back in the mirror, Jack laughed and realized that it was real. What the fuck were those pills that Mike had given him? And where the fuck could he get more?

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

"How did it go?" Tyler asked Mike the same morning Jack realized that his body was changing for the better.

"Just like we had planned," Mike replied. "I'm sure Jack will be calling me shortly."

At that moment his phone rang and Mike grinned when he saw it was Jack. "Morning Jack," Mike said. "How are you?"

On the other end of the phone, Jack said, "We need to talk. Now."

Mike looked at Tyler and nodded. "Yeah. Come over to the dorm," Mike said.

A few minutes later, Mike saw Jack and immediately saw the difference that the former nerd who would be a jock soon had been after two pills.

"What were in those fucking pills?" Jack asked as he looked at Mike. "What the hell dude?"

Mike grinned. "I thought you needed to be shown a new way to look at like," he said. "And I'm sure those pills did it for you didn't they?"

After a moment, Jack nodded. "If this is what two pills did, what would happen if I took more?" he asked almost like a drug addict looking for his next fix.

"That's not how this works," Mike said. "Those pills are just the first step. The next step requires a bit more... commitment."

"Commitment?" Jack asked. "What the hell does that mean?"

Mike smiled and said, "The next step you need to take is from the source." Mike went to lower his pants but waited for Jack to realize what was about to happen.

Jack took a step back and frowned. "No... no... I'm not..." he said in a moment of hesitation. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned and saw Tyler standing there as well.

"We all committed ourselves Jack," Tyler said. "If you want to become a man, you need to do this."

For a moment, Jack could almost hear in the back of his head a protest but Jack realized that all his life this was what he wanted. He wanted to be tough, he wanted to be strong and there was no other way to obtain it.

Mike dropped his pants and knew that his cock was solid and thick and ready to give Jack the gift of jockification. It was how it happened a year ago when Mike was given the gift by his mentor. And now he was going to give it to Jack.

Jack fell to his knees and opened his mouth. The moment Mike's cock hit his mouth, Jack closed his eyes and embraced it. The feeling of belonging filled him with joy and when Mike ejaculated, Jack's entire mind exploded in joy. This was what he wanted. This is what he needed.

After Mike was done, Jack looked up at his mentor and smiled. "That was amazing..." he whispered as he realized that his cock was solid and thick. Without thinking Jack stood up and dropped his pants and looked at Mike. Mike grinned as Tyler watched on as Jack's cock filled Mike's mouth and the process continued.

For Jack, as soon as Mike's cum hit his tongue, the transformation that he had gone through overnight continued to progress. Over the next few hours as Jack's body and mind adjusted to his newfound life, Mike and Tyler watched on with grins on their faces.

Finally, just after noon, Jack finally felt like himself again. He grinned and looked at his new best friends and said, "Thank you" in a deeper voice than he could have possibly imagined. "Thank you for giving me life," he said.

Mike grinned and replied, "Welcome to the brotherhood Jack. Glad you could join us."

As Jack walked back to his dorm room, he could see people looking at him as he realized his life had changed for the better.

[mylittleredgirl]

look. look. there was a livejournal comment ficlet i wrote once for stargate atlantis. i couldn't find it when i first made a fic index on livejournal in 2011. looked again when i started archiving on ao3. searched again every time i remembered that i still have a livejournal. i'm telling you this thing stuck in my memory banks for no reason except that i could SEE IT i KNEW it was in my journal and not someone else's and i could. not. find it. it's like 500 words of angst and i remembered it being even shorter, like it was not worth all of this!!! but it was symbolic white whale of all the long-lost livejournal comment ficlets.

and today i decided to organize my browser bookmarks for the first time in living memory and it was in there the entire time.

(ao3 link below, but in the spirit of ephemeral livejournal comment ficlets it's also below the readmore)

--

Brother

(579 words, gen, angst, elizabeth weir lives)

Ford hesitates before saying, "I found something you might want."

--

They don't bring Aiden Ford home. He brings himself back after almost six years. When he looks Sheppard in the eye, John thinks the man might throw a punch. And he is a man, not a kid anymore. His face is scarred. He's been clean two years. He knew the location of Atlantis almost all that time – It's not as well-hidden as you think – but it took this long to choose to come home. He lets Beckett – the new Beckett – examine him. He tells Woolsey and Sheppard where he was, what he did, helping a few different worlds, militia to militia.

Sheppard can't feel a thing – relief, guilt, confusion, nothing. He hasn't felt much in a while, going through the years by going through the motions. Even with that, he's aware that this is extreme. Normally, he can at least feel anger. This man was his second-in-command, his enthusiastic right hand, his responsibility. He didn't come home, not even when he could. Not even, he learns, when Ford saw them on a planet, Sheppard and McKay joking around, Teyla and Ronon walking the perimeter. Teyla presses her forehead to Ford's. He lets her. It doesn't soften the glare on his face. "Why now?" John finally asks. Ford hesitates before saying, "I found something you might want." He found Elizabeth. At first, Ford only lets Beckett see her, and only on the planet where he's holed up in a Wraith-damaged village where they treat him like one of their own. Teyla pieces together the story. Ford found out about her, bribed and threatened his way across the galaxy for information. Rescued her, with these natives and their antiquated weapons. Brought her here. "He must not have known that she's dangerous," McKay assumes aloud. The enemy is inside her and can't be taken out. John shakes his head. Ford was at the SGC when the human-form replicators first appeared on the scene – different than the Asurans, but the same. Ford knew, and he did it anyway. Ford won't let them in the hut without handing over their weapons. "We're not going to hurt her," John snaps, insulted at the implication, but if that were a guarantee, it would be easy to disarm. She's dangerous. Beckett says she's unconscious – malnourished, close to organ failure, mental effects unknown, but the replicators inside her aren't actively replicating. Ford fed her the same Wraith toxin that nearly killed him, and her drug-bolstered immune system and the replicators fought each other to a stalemate. She'll suffer withdrawal, according to Beckett, just like Ford did. That sounds like the least of her problems. "She's my responsibility now," Ford insists. McKay obviously winces. John doesn't. "You need our help to cure her," John points out. "Beckett's help." Beckett, who still isn't the same. Ford, whose motivations are foreign, and who wants them unarmed on his terms. Elizabeth, who might still die. "But if you want to see her, no weapons." Without waiting for John's okay, Teyla hands over her gun and says, soothing, "You can trust us. And I trust you." John grudgingly hands over his weapons, one by one. He goes to follow Teyla into the hut when Ford's hand clamps around his arm. "I left," he says, low and dangerous and full of old betrayal. "I get that. No matter what happened to me. But this was Doctor Weir. And you left her." Right then, inconveniently, two steps from seeing her, John starts to feel again.

[dchuntress]

Subject: Re: Extension Request

Hi Madi,

I had your sister in my class two years ago. Samantha O'Reilly was sharp, determined, and never backed down when she knew she was right. She believed in Gotham and its ability to get better in a way that, frankly, inspired me. I remember helping her with her essay for college applications, and I knew then if anybody was going to revolutionize Gotham's healthcare, it was her.

It hurts to hear that she's gone missing. But I do not believe that Scarecrow has the power to change her, to take away who she really is. She may be manipulated, she may be roped into his schemes, but she isn't lost, my dear. She is in trouble. And those are not the same thing.

She needs us to believe in her more than ever. And I need you to have faith in yourself, too.

Take the extension. Take all the time you need to cope and focus. If doing schoolwork gives you something steady to hold onto, then do what you need to do. But by no means think that you need to prove something by burning yourself out, Madi. You are brilliant and dedicated, and you don't need me or my opinions to know that. Your well-being comes first.

If Scarecrow is recruiting, then he is expanding, and I need you and your family to stay far away from his radar at all times. Keep your routines unpredictable and your location private. Stay with people you trust and be wary of anybody new who take an interest in you. If anything ever feels off — strangers watching you, cryptic messages, odd delivers, friends going missing — let me know immediately.

Scarecrow preys on fear, but he cannot really destroy you, Sam, or anybody else in this city. Not in a way that matters, as long as we remain steadfast even in our nightmares and our uncertainty. I understand how helpless this feels, and I don't have the right to tell you not to feel that way. The trajectory of your lives may have changed irreversibly, and things might not be the same.

But what I will tell you is that the love you have for Samantha is far more powerful than whatever Scarecrow throws in her way. Don't give up on your sister, Madi.

And do not, even for one second, think you are alone in this: you are not. Sam has people looking out for her, you have people looking out for you. You have me in your corner, by your side, always.

So, do not hesitate to reach out for anything. I mean that, Madison. Take care of yourself.

All my love,

Helena

Huntress doesn't care that that by now Scarecrow is intimately familiar with what makes her tick, what makes her crack, what makes her falter. She doesn't care how fortified his lair is; numerous lackeys ready to launch into bloodshed in an instant, the air reeking with gases and chemicals threatening to send Huntress spiralling down, breaking down, hesitating. She doesn't hesitate. Helena's spent weeks tearing through Scarecrow's operations — destroying labs, cutting off supply chains, thinking she was making a dent. And still, here they are. Another name added to the list of Gotham's stolen, neglected, forgotten. Another bright mind warped into something ugly. All that Huntress cares about right now is getting Sam out of there and back home in one piece, alive and breathing. She doesn't care if Madison's sister is already brainwashed beyond recognition, if she might resist at every step of the way out. That's a problem for later — for Oracle, for Batman, for Zatanna, for anybody to undo. Huntress' job is extraction. Making sure there's someone still left to save. Huntress doesn't care how deep into the darkness Scarecrow has dragged Samantha. She's pulling her out.

—

Subject: Re: Interview With The CatWoman

Hi Ananya,

Well, of course, you would be the one to track down Catwoman and persuade her to do an interview. I'm not all surprised, and I am perhaps a teensy tiny bit impressed.

I must admit, this is not what I was expecting. And I do hope you're staying safe, young lady, I'm not thrilled that you got that close to such a volatile situation. But I understand how these things unfold.

That being said, you showed great initiative and quick thinking. You saw someone who made a real, tangible impact on your surroundings, and you found an unconventional yet necessary perspective into your work. That is the heart of analysis and good storytelling.

No signature? No problem. I'm obviously not going to ask you to chase down her just for an autograph and risk getting clawed. And let's be honest, Ms Catwoman doesn't strike me as someone who enjoys leaving paper trail behind. Some people let their actions speak for them.

And that’s the thing, isn't it? The point of this assignment isn't to necessarily scout out a well-known superhero, but to find someone who makes a difference, someone who helps out. You don't need a badge, a title, or anybody's permission to do the right thing — you just do it.

Your interview was solid, and I’ve given you a good grade. Take a look at my feedback in the attached scan when you get the chance, though — there are a few areas that could use some refining. You’ve got a great story here, kid. Let’s make sure it's told right.

Nice work. Stay safe.

Best,

Miss Bertinelli

[ Attachment: I_Interview_Catwoman_scan.pdf ]

The fire escape isn't the most comfortable perch, but it gives her a decent vantage point. And it's a good enough spot to read Ananya's work thoroughly, annotate, and get a glimpse of a side of Selina Kyle that Huntress doesn't see much. The side that steps in, the side that doesn't let drug dealers get away with thinking they can take advantage of young minds, the side that answers a bubbly, young teenager's questions with warmth, charisma, and a signature flair that's uniquely, intriguingly hers. The side that gives a damn. Catwoman is nothing less of a wild card, but Selina has a good head on her shoulders — draws lines that she doesn't like to see get crossed. The Cat always lands on her feet, and tonight, Huntress wonders if she'll land on the right side. If she'll give another damn and show up. Catwoman isn't anybody's idea of a hero in the traditional sense. But again, neither is Huntress. Selina knows the darkness that prevails on the broken, vulnerable streets of this city; all-consuming and never forgiving. Helena knows that darkness too. The kind of darkness that chews up and spits out anybody into a hollow husk of their selves. The kind of darkness they both refuse to be caged by any longer. The kind of darkness they won't let engulf innocent kids anymore. Huntress hopes—prays for Sam's sake that Selina will hear her out. And extend that listening ear to Pamela, whose brilliance rivals that of Crane's. His brainwashing isn't impossible to tackle, but it spreads rapidly throughout the nervous system. Ivy might know how to reign those in before it's too late. And Catwoman might be able to convince her to step in. And maybe — just maybe, if Helena's prayers are heard, Selina might just know the darkness well enough to predict where Gotham's missing kids go when the rest of the city falls asleep. It's a long shot. But long shots are all Huntress has.

—

Subject: Re: pokodot man stole my shirts and i have nothing to wear for the trip :(

Hi Ken,

Are you and your mom safe? That's my main concern.

That being said — seriously, Ken? Polka-dot shirts?

I'll be honest, this is a first, even for Gotham. This city truly never runs out of weird. I have no issue excusing the class trip, but I will need more details before I write "Absence due to polka-dot-related crimes" in the attendance log. Please ask your mother to call me when she has a moment and we'll sort it out.

Best,

Miss Bertinelli

Seriously, the Polka-Dot Man? Scrounging the local laundromat and looting some kid's shirts that won't even fit him? The mental image alone should've made her laugh. Gotham's walking eyesore, some washed-up D-list villain, shifting through other people's laundry baskets — and possibly the bargain bins at joke shops for a suit upgrade. But Huntress didn't. Not a lot of jokes were really that funny in Gotham. They tended to die and rot out in your mouth before you could spit them out. There was the simple set-up:

Some ridiculously, mind-numbingly, garnish gimmicks and corny costumes that'd even make a two-year-old roll their eyes. And then there was the punchline:

The bloodbath that spilled all over for rogues to lap, the homes that were left in ruins. Or a laundromat, in this case. A flick of Abner’s wrist sent a cluster of neon dots whirling through the air, and Huntress barely dodged in time — one of them piercing straight into a dryer, causing it to blow up on impact. The polka dots weren't really just a bad fashion statement. They were weaponised — hot, colourful, searing disks flung at her with deadly precision, sizzling against the concrete like dying stars when they missed. The next one sliced through her thigh, drawing blood with a burning tenacity. Yeah, she wasn't laughing. And Huntress didn't think for even one second that Abner Krill was just dillydallying at laundromats, but she wasn't going to stroke his ego either. "The Suicide Squad kick you to the curb or something?" She taunted, as she dodged a buzzsaw dot and rolled behind a vending machine. "Didn't think you were shaking down dryers for spare quarters now!" A beat of silence after that — the dots have come to a halt. A pause long enough for her to peek out. For him to give her a smile. "You think this is about the laundry, Huntress?" Abner stood there, casually twirling a glowing dot between his fingers. "You think this is all I'm doing? You don't think I'm capable of anything greater?" Abner laughed a loud, joyless laugh. "You're just like my mom, Huntress." "Gross, dude," Helena shot back, swiftly placing a bolt in her crossbow. "Why? Mothers are like bridges, you know..." His smile broadened, but never reached his eyes. "People trust them without question." His smile fell. He flicked his wrist — And she fired, and — The dot and the bolt met in a thunderous crash. In the back of her head, she wondered if his quip was just some dumb, random, stupid inside joke she wasn't supposed to get, and — Huntress really wished she didn't.

—

Subject: Re: ...

Hello Malik,

I need you to listen to me very carefully. Thank you for trusting me. I know this is a scary situation to be in, but you did the right thing by letting me know.

I want you and your dad to stay safe. If you have family somewhere else, consider staying with them for a while. Otherwise, I can send you a list of trustworthy places you'll be safe — shelters, community centers, mosques.

Be selective in whom you trust at this time. Trust your judgement. Keep your head down, avoid drawing attention, and if you notice anything suspicious, don’t try to check it out on your own. Just leave, get somewhere safe, and call for help. You're doing the best you can already.

And listen, kid — whenever you feel like you’re out of options, whenever you want to shout into the void, whenever you think no one's listening? I'm here to hear you. You can always tell me anything. Everything you say will stay between us. If you're worried about your dad knowing, I won't say a word to him.

I'm very sorry the police aren't taking this seriously. But I believe you, Malik. And I know some people who will believe you too. We will figure something out together.

We will keep our city safe. And that starts by keeping ourselves safe.

Okay?

Stay in touch.

With love and prayers,

Miss Bertinelli

Her heart aches. God. Good God, why — why is she the only adult that Malik can trust? That's — that's not right! Malik doesn't know that his teacher wields a weapon uglier than a pen. Malik doesn't know that her face is slick with blood — blood that's not hers. Malik doesn't know the ugly things she does in the nighttime to secure a brighter morning for other people. But Malik has faith. He trusts that Miss Bertinelli with that information, he trusts her — a schoolteacher — to do something about a citywide threat. This isn't a fight she can win on her own. So, mirroring that trust, she casts the net wide, spreading his warning like wildfire and hoping it reaches the right people — enough people. Oracle's Birds, the Bat's brats, the few independents that don't answer to Batman, and hell, even a handful of rogues that hate Joker more than they hate Huntress. Anybody outside of Gotham willing to cross the distance just to get their punches in. Some of her allies are still en-route, others have already started petty brawls in proximity, few are monitoring the area, some are waiting for the right moment to strike. But her gaze is locked on the bridge: it's still in one place. Blood rings in her head and burns in her eyes. The bridge isn’t just that — it's a crucial artery of Gotham. One wrong move, one wrong incision, and — And it won’t just fall. It’ll crush. Families. Homes. Futures. A graveyard that symbolises their failure to protect Gotham's innocent, effectively punishing these people for not being able to afford to live elsewhere. That caked-faced bastard picked his target well. Damn him, damn him, damn— Tears sting her eyes. She doesn't know if she can do this. She doesn't know if her allies of the night can save the day in time. She doesn't know if the bridge will stay intact. She doesn't know if they'll prevent casualties. She doesn't know how it ends tonight, and what happens tomorrow. (But Huntress has faith.) Something cold and solid brushes against her boot, snaps her out. She looks down and picks it up. A crowbar. Her grip tightens. The last time one of these was in the wrong hand, a young child died screaming. As if life means nothing. He took an innocent life — as he always did, destroying lives beyond repair, beyond redemption, beyond reprieve. (Never again.) And tonight, he has set out to claim thousands of lives, millions more in collateral damage. But that won't happen. No. No more families torn apart. No more children left in despair. No more bodies will be piled up at his feet. Because it won't be the damn bridge that falls.

(Never again.) Because Huntress has faith. She touches the cross at her throat, and remembers she is here. (NEVER AGAIN.) She brings the crowbar down — breaking the metal and a lackey's bone simultaneously. Reloads her crossbow. Marches ahead. Beside her, movement. More figures joining the fight. Allies, reluctant or otherwise. Capes, good and bad alike, drawn to this fight like vultures, like wolves, like something holy. She doesn't stop to look back. "Let's finish this."

—

Subject: Re: Library Suggestions

Hi Eden,

You're smart to trust your gut. If something smells fishy, it's probably not for no reason.

Here are some safer options:

• Hemingway Community Library: Well-lit, quiet, good security. It's run by the volunteers in the neighborhood, so the staff actually care.

• Eastpoint Library: This one's near your aunt's workplace. Might make pickups easier. Oh, and Sol Azteca is close by — you two should stop there for the carnitas tacos. Best in Gotham.

• Gotham City Public Library: Not super close, but it’s just one bus stop away. A friend of mine works there, Dr Gordon. She’s nicer than she looks — if you need anything, you can always approach her.

• The Woolf & Austen Bookshop: My personal pick? This bookstore on 5th and Wilburn. Good coffee, quiet atmosphere. I drop by there a lot. A little farther out from the school, but it's near my apartment. I don't do any grading here, I promise.

• If none of those work for you, let me know. I’ll help you figure something out.

And don't apologize for reaching out. You deserve safe spaces. Always.

Take care,

Miss B

Huntress follows her own gut, too. She steps into the library and immediately smells it: Not old books, not dust, not coffee — chemical rot, dense in the air. It’s a lab. A drug operation. Of fucking course. The same bastards who occupied Miriam's apartment basement have moved their operations here. The same ones Selina stopped from selling drugs to kids. Gotham’s rogues aren’t criminal masterminds. They’re roaches. The kind that refuse to die, that scurry to a new corner when the light exposes them. The kind that don’t learn their lesson until their heads have been shoved into a bookshelf hard enough to make them beg for a third chance. Unfortunately — or otherwise — Miss B doesn't know how to quit either.

one of helena bertinelli's students emailing her at 12:59 am asking if it's too late to submit their assignment now since their house got burned down due to gotham incidents:

helena bertinelli responding at 1:07 am after grading their work and reassuring them it's fine even though she's literally yet to take care of the third degree burns on top of 500 other fatal injuries she just got from her other job:

[athenagc94]

Dear Daddy Long Legs - Chapter 5

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Also posting on AO3 which you can find here.

Might have to take a few days off so I can catch up on some writing. I am very happy with the direction this story is taking. (If you couldn't tell, this is more of a slow burn piece because I can't imagine Jason as anything but someone who yearns.)

TW: Minor depictions of violence

First | Prev | Next

Chapter 5

You dropped your letter off the following morning before heading to your first class of the day. The first two weeks at Gotham University passed in a blur as you tried to orient yourself. You liked school when you were a kid. It distracted you from the harsh realities of the world. College was a different beast entirely, especially one as prestigious as this.

It was hard not to feel othered here. Other students came from old families, ones with money and prestige. You recognized some of their faces from interviews or social media. It was their seats that went vacant in class. They had nothing to prove. There were no consequences when you had money to throw at a problem.

You settled in your seat of your history class. From Goddesses to Witches: An Overview of Women’s History. With a title like that, how could you not sign up for it? There were a lot of cool classes here, and you wanted to take them all, but there were only so many hours in the day.

The blonde who usually sat on your right had already arrived. Her purple hoodie was branded with the University logo, though you don’t recall the school store selling purple apparel. She offered a friendly smile as you sat. You failed to return it as you sifted through your bag.

Sure, you wanted to make friends. It would be nice to find like-minded people who liked to discuss classic literature and the relevance of the oxford comma, but you weren’t entirely sure where to start.

Returning a smile might have been a smart move, but the moment had passed. Your table mate shifted her attention to her phone, so you decided to do the same.

A text awaited you from your manager: Rosa quit last night. I need you to come in tomorrow night to cover a party.

You suppressed a groan. Seriously? Rosa had wanted to quit for a while, but now it fell to you to pick up the slack. You shot back a quick text though you knew it wouldn’t make a difference: I have a night class.

Bubbles appeared instantly.

Shit.

His response was exactly what you expected: I wouldn’t be asking if we had options. I hired two new waiters that need a veteran to show them the ropes. You’re the best I have.

Flattery would get him nowhere, but you’d be stupid to turn down an extra shift—especially as an event lead. That role usually went to Rosa who had a kid to consider. Now, the title would shift to you, and the boost to your salary would reflect it.

With a defeated sigh, you replied: I’ll be there.

I’ll send you the details tonight. You’re a lifesaver, he shot back.

Hardly, but you weren’t about to argue. This decision was entirely selfish on your part. If you did this, you’d have a valid argument to ask for Christmas off in a few months.

Your professor arrived and class began. As she talked about your assigned reading, which you’d already finished and annotated the night prior, your mind wandered as you considered your options. Skipping one class wasn’t the end of the world. It was a philosophy class that didn’t count toward your major, but allowing this set a dangerous precedent. Your boss got what he wanted this time. What would stop him from trying again?

Some students might get away with skipping class, but you weren’t one of them.

Glancing back at the blonde, you noticed meticulous notes she’d started in glittery purple ink. She was also in your philosophy class, though you didn’t sit next to each other.

In hindsight, maybe you should have returned that smile.

Your fingers drummed the table. It’s not like you were asking for a lot if she was already taking notes. She might be cool to talk to, to hang out with. Friendships had blossomed for less.

Or maybe you were asking for too much?

Ask for notes and leave things there. After years of doing things for yourself, it felt like cheating to rely on the kindness of a stranger like this. Not to mention, you were a little rusty at making new friends. The ones you had came from work and the shared trauma of working in catering.

Do you even know how to make friends?

You warred with your pride until the professor dismissed you. The blonde hopped out of her chair, swung her bag over her shoulder in one fluid motion, and hurried out before you mustered the courage to speak. You were moving before you realized it, abandoning your bag to hurry after her.

“Hey! You in the purple. Wait up.”

It wasn’t the best identifier, but she stopped anyway, peering over her shoulder. Her surprise gave way to something friendlier as she grinned. “That’s me.”

You approached, your heart pounding. “So, I hate to ask this, but I got called into work tomorrow night. Since you’re in my philosophy class, I was wondering if you could take notes for me?”

“Yeah, no problem,” she said as she pulled out her phone, “What’s your number? I can text you a picture of them once class let’s out tomorrow night.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary. I can just grab them when I see—”

“Don’t sweat it. Professor Edwin is an ass. He failed me last year because I slept through our final exam and refused to let me retake it for partial credit. Like, come on man, it’s not my fault I overslept. I’m not going to let anyone fall victim to his shit if I can help it.”

How did that make him an ass? You almost asked, but she shoved her phone in your face and continued, “I’m Steph, by the way. Pre-med.”

You introduced yourself as you punched your number into her phone. “Writing and Classics,” you offered as you handed her phone back.

“Radical.” She gave you a quick once over. “I’m thinking red.”

“Huh?”

“That’s what color I’ll write the notes in. Something about your aura just screams it, ya know?”

You did not. “Black ink is fine too.”

Steph looked at you like you had just suggested slaughtering a small child instead. “Absolutely not. Why would I do that when the world is such a colorful place? I know we live in Gotham, but that doesn’t mean we have to abstain from happiness.” Her phone beeped in her hand, and she gasped. “Crap, I gotta get to class, but I’ll send you a text later.” She hurried off, leaving you to stare after her in disbelief.

Huh.

Maybe making friends was easier than you thought.

***

Your manager failed to mention the party was at Wayne Manor.

Deep down, you knew it didn’t matter. You had catered dozens of his parties over the years, but that was before you accepted his money like a sellout. How working for him was any different, well, you weren’t exactly sure—it just was.

Anxiety bubbled in your belly as you lit the food warmers on the banquet table along the far wall of the sitting room. Every so often, you’d glance over your shoulder like you expected Bruce Wayne to step out of the shadows and yell at you for skipping class.

This was stupid. Bruce Wayne had no idea who you were beyond a name on an application. He didn’t care that you skipped class. Students skipped all the time. Hell, your first letter probably hadn’t even reached his desk.

Still, a small part of you disliked the power he had over you.

“Excuse me.”

You nearly jumped out of your skin as you whipped around to face the elderly butler who’d let you in that evening to set up. He quirked a wispy eyebrow, almost amused.

“I apologize. I didn’t mean to frighten you. Master Wayne asked me to check in with your team to ensure you have everything you require.”

Heat bloomed in your cheeks as you tucked your lighter away. “I’m good on the food end, but I should check with our bartender to make sure. How many guests are we expecting again?”

“Fifty, ma’am.”

“Perfect. I’ll be right back.”

This was a more intimate affair than what you were used to, but intimate usually meant easy.

You tasked the new hires with preparing platters of hors d’oeuvres in the kitchen. They arrived in ill-fitting uniforms and messily knotted hair. They also seemed more interested in their phones than listening to you. If they made it through tonight, you’d be impressed.

Catering was lucrative, especially when the owner never turned a job down. Not a single one, even if the client was far from reputable. Staff turnover was unreal because of it, but you didn’t mind if you got paid at the end of the night (and the mob paid very well for discretion). You had a rule. Keep your head down and do your job. People largely ignored you as long as you did.

It was the same here, among the Gotham elite. No one looked at your face or bothered to learn your name.

You ducked inside the kitchen where Mark, the bartender, sorted through a crate of liquor. Several platters of half-finished hors d’oeuvres sat on the counter, but the new hires had disappeared.

Your eye twitched. “Where are they?”

Mark looked up from his crate. A few strands of strawberry blonde hair fell into his eyes. He ran his fingers through his hair and held the pose to show off the carve of his bicep. It was a well-practiced motion that made the ladies swoon. You have been one of those ladies before you learned he used that move on everyone.

“They mentioned a smoke break and left out the back.”

You scoffed. “Great.”

“Starting to feel a little sympathy for Rose, aren’t ya?”

“Shut up.” You crossed the room to lay out the platters yourself. “Do you need anything? The butler asked.”

Mark whistled softly. “I wish I was rich enough to have a butler.”

“Who knows? You might finally get a sugar momma if you play your cards right.”

“That’s the goal. You could find yourself a sugar daddy if you tried.”

“Hard pass.” You’d accepted enough charity in your life. No one but the Red Hood knew about the scholarship, and you wanted to keep it that way. Accepting handouts went against your morals, and you didn’t want people calling you a hypocrite—even that was exactly what you were.

“I should go track those assholes down,” you grumbled as you finished one of the platters, “I don’t think they’ll last an hour.”

Mark snorted. “Have a little more faith. I bet they can make it to the end of the night.”

You wiped your palms off on the front of your apron. “I don’t bet on anything.”

“Lame.”

You left out the back door to search for your servers. What were their names again? Brian and Jon? That sounded right, but if it was wrong, you weren’t going to feel bad about it. They had spoken less than a dozen words to you since arriving at the manor. You rounded the corner to find one of them with a burning cigarette hanging from his lips.

“Where the other one?”

Jon/Brian (you couldn’t be pressed to tell them apart) glanced up from his phone, his blatant disregard for the job palpable. “Brendan took a lap to stretch his legs.”

Brendan. Fine. Brendan and Jon.

“He’ll have a chance to stretch his legs once the party begins. Find him and get your asses back inside.”

“Bitch,” he grunted as he flicked his cigarette at her feet. He stalked off to find Brendan.

Men, you seethed to yourself as you stomped out his cigarette.

At least Rosa was fun to talk to. That and she made sopaipillas for your birthday. Shame she had to go and quit on you.

You returned to the kitchen as the butler stepped inside. He noted the half-finished platters with an unimpressed sniff. “Would you like some help? Our guests are due to arrive any minute.”

Your shoulders sagged. “Yeah, that would be great.”

An hour later, the party was in full swing, and you were counting down the hours before you could go home and work on your readings for class. You wove through the guests with a full platter of bacon-wrapped water chestnuts balanced in one hand. Some people grabbed them before you had a chance to offer, while others waited for you to present them with a vacant smile and a pleasant, “Would you like one?”

It was automatic at this point. You didn’t think. Jon and Brendan on the other hand…

You searched for them in the crowd, but it was difficult with all the bodies crammed in one room. Fifty people were just shy of too many people for the spacious sitting room, but no one else seemed to mind. You shared a look with Mark, who mixed drinks at the bar in the corner.

You motioned to the crowd, and he shrugged, already guessing your question. He hadn’t seen them either.

Perfect.

Your boss would have hell to pay in the morning because this was ridiculous.

A man knocked into your shoulder as he passed, nearly spilling your platter in the process. You swore as dove to save it. As you did, your attention snagged on familiar tattoo that painted the guest’s knuckles a deep crimson. You’d seen it before, but only ever on the east side and when you did, you knew it was time to run the other way.

A member of the Blood Knuckles—here at Wayne Manor.

Your mind raced as you made a beeline for the bar. Mark passed a glass of red wine to a woman with flushed cheeks. She giggled at nothing as she dropped a crisp twenty in his tip jar.

When she stumbled off to join her partner, you set your platter down and said, “Head back to the kitchen.”

His brow furrowed. “What?”

“Just do it. I can explain everything later. I need to find the—”

A shot went off behind you. Screams rippled through the crowd as you hit the ground. The Blood Knuckle stood with his back to you. He raised his gun to the ceiling, shards of crystal raining down from the chandelier. Three more men removed guns from their waistbands, each donning the brand of their gang.

 Bruce Wayne stood near the fireplace, a trembling hand raised as if he were soothing a wild beast. He wore his usual black on black, his jaw set with a severe expression as he stared the gun down its barrel. “Woah there,” he said as he tucked a younger boy behind his back, “We don’t want any trouble.”

“Neither do we. Well, not with most of you anyway.” He turned his attention to but an aging man in the corner with thinning hair. “Oscar Franz, our boss has business with you.”

Oscar staggered back, the color leeching from his face. “W-Who sent you?”

“Oh, I don’t kill and tell.” He leveled the gun at him. “But we have a few questions first.”

Your ears rang as you scanned the room, weighing your options. If only you’d noticed sooner, you might have gotten Mark and you out of the room before the Blood Knuckles revealed themselves. They usually kept to their territory, so seeing them this far outside of East Gotham unsettled you. They weren’t usually hitmen, and you weren’t too keen to watch a man die before your eyes tonight.

Slowly, you got to your feet and used one hand to flip your platter. It clattered noisily to the ground, drawing the attention away from the target. The hitman locked eyes with you, and you recognized him instantly.

Brendan—now dressed in a tuxedo to blend in with the guests. How had you missed the tattoo before? Did you even get a good look at his hands?

Your manager would hire gang members by accident. To think, you could have been having a deep philosophical discussion about morality and the error of humanity instead. Now, you had to face the reality of your morality as he trained the gun on you.

A laugh bubbled in your throat as you lifted your hands, feigning innocence. And here you thought he was just a shitty server. This made a lot more s—

You sensed someone behind, but it was too late. Jon cracked the butt of his gun on the back of your head and the world went dark.

[bellixpog]

hellooo could you write about what saebyeok would be like when you are sick?? thank youuu

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She takes care of you- Kang Sae-Byeok

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pair: Sae-Byeok × F! Reader

context: she takes care of you when you are sick

warning: none

words: 4k

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It's been a rainy last week of January. Your window was rarely dry, covered in water drops that fell from the sky. Sae was already sitting on your couch when you opened the door, shivering with cold and your hair dripping cold, as well as her clothes and shoes. Your gaze meets Sae's and you notice a worried expression on her face. "Didn't you bring an umbrella?" The girl asks, slowly placing the TV remote on the couch. You shake your head, taking off your shoes. "You're going to catch a cold." You denied, taking off your coat. "I'm fine." You said, not giving much importance to the problem, but you definitely weren't fine.Sae sighed, not wanting to fight your stubbornness, turning the TV back on.

You head to the bathroom, opening the glass door of your shower, quickly turning on the hot water. As the water heats up, you quickly take off your clothes, shivering from the cold and thanking the heavens for seeing the smoke coming out of the top of the shower. You shivered as you felt the hot water touch your cold body, and your muscles relaxed over time, making you sigh in relief. After an hour, you had your pajamas on, and left the room and went to the living room. Two days later, you had already started to have some difficulty swallowing food and speaking, your nose was dripping, your body was burning with fever and your head felt like a hammer was hitting it.

You were definitely with a cold, as your girlfriend had warned you. You couldn't keep working like that. You asked your boss for the afternoon and went straight home, just wanting to put on your pajamas, take a pill and sleep for a few hours in your beed. When your feet stepped into the house, you found yourself with your girlfriend sitting on the couch. It was Friday, the girl's day off. Sae's smile disappeared when she saw your face. "What happened? Your nose is all red... Do you have a cold?" She asked, standing up and walking over to you, grabbing your face to analyze it. You didn't have the strength to answer, just nodding which made the girl sigh and lightly caress your cheek. "I warned you, my love. Go put on your pajamas and go to bed, I'll make you some tea."

She stroked your hair, looking at you with tenderness in her eyes. You murmured a "thank you" and Sae let go of your face, quickly heading to the kitchen. You made your way to the bedroom, already hearing the sound of the water heater working. Even though it may not seem like it, your girlfriend is the type of person who takes care of everything with a cup of tea - which, surprisingly, always works. You tied your hair in a messy bun, and lay down on the bed, already wearing your pajamas. At the same moment, Sae enters the room, carefully opening the door with her foot, as her hands were busy carrying a tray with a pen, and a plate with toast. The girl carefully placed the tray on the bed, over her legs, sitting down next to her. "You need to eat to take the pill. I made you some toast with blueberry jam, just the way you like it."

She says, pointing to the toast. "Your tea is honey and lemon, for your sore throat." Her index finger now pointed to the mug with a yellowish liquid, which was releasing a light spiral of smoke. "Thank you, my love" You murmured, and bit into the toast, and sighed at how good the toast was at that moment. You couldn't deny that the toast your girlfriend made was definitely the best when you were sick, and she knew it. She watched you eat, with a look of concern, but a small smile on her lips When you were done eating, she carefully took the tray off your legs, placed it on the floor next to the bed, and lay down next to you, wrapping her arms around your waist and cuddling you close to her.

"See if you listen to me next time, idiot." She murmured, her chin resting on your head as she stroked your hair. You let out a small laugh and hugged the older girl's body, sighing as you felt her warmth. "Yeah, yeah mom, i get it" You roll your eyes, eliciting a weak laugh from the girl. A comfortable silence settled over the room, bringing with it sleep, which ended up taking hold of your body. Your eyes felt heavy, and Your breathing was getting weaker and more regulated. When Sae noticed this, she held you tighter against her, adjusting the blankets over you.

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HIIII BABIES, I'M FUCKING BACK

I've been making chapters so short, kill me please

But anyway, hope you liked it babies

Xoxo!

[birinboom]

14 Days of Cupid's Arrow - Day 3: Love letters like the good old times

Anyone's love language as words of affirmation written in ink? What would your letter to them be like? Them to you? How would you or your fave react to receiving one?

Dear So-chan

I’m feeling unwell these days. It’s probably just a cold, nothing to worry about. Still, I took a couple of days off to rest. But having nothing to do for days on end has given me a lot of time to think. About us. About you. About how much I miss you. I know you’ll probably get embarrassed as you read this, but I felt like reminiscing. And being home for so long means I have nothing better to write about this week.

I was thinking about how we met, how you would often linger nearby when Mari and I spent time together around the base. She put in so much work to get us together, I should thank her again. I still remember the time she loudly told you how I find swordplay so very fascinating, I wanted to crawl into a hole! I guess in the end she told you as many good things about me as she told me about you. 

You struck me as being totally out of my league when I first saw you. A platoon leader on your way to becoming vice captain. An expert in your field. And I was just a foreigner, meant to stay only temporarily. Yes, I know what you’re thinking; as a kaiju scientist, my job is what enables you to do YOUR job. That the defense force cannot work without the r&d department. But I still felt less than back then. Maybe just because I felt so out of place and homesick.

I was so fascinated with you. I still am. The way you move when you’re fighting always reminds me of a panther on the prowl. I still love watching you train, and I can’t help but shiver when I think about the few times I’ve seen you in a proper fight. I’m so happy that we’re on the same side. I’m so happy that you accept me for who I am, that you have no problem with me being childish at times -well, most of the time- or that I’m taller than you. I’m so happy that we’re still together after all these years.

I miss you every day. I miss the way you always cheer me up when I’m down. I miss seeing your smile first thing in the morning. I miss your voice, it doesn’t sound the same over the phone. I even miss your teasing. Please tease me again when I come home. 

It’s less than 3 months now. I can’t wait to see you again. 

Lots of love,

Em

[tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang]

I am unabashedly requesting for rindou and Inui light-hearted cute funny HCs in a world where Bonten Rin has a huge crush on Inui (crushing on him since tenjiku times)

what are some of the things a secretly lovestruck Rin would do? He has to keep his feelings for an oblivious Inui at bay but he at the same time wants to see Inui as much as he possibly can

(if this req is too weirdly specific pls feel free to disregard this!!!!!! I love ur stuff as always mwah)

That sounds cute! Here's how I think bonten Rindou would act while crushing on Inui!

Honestly Rindou is pretty bad at hiding his crush, he blushes and get's flustered pretty easily. The only reason it hasn't been discovered by Inui yet is because Inui is so oblivious. 

Rindou keeps turning up at Inui and Drakens bike shop with 'problems' but they're like the smallest and silliest problems possible (he's actually just coming up with excuses to see Inui but he's not very good at it).

Brings Inui lunch often, normally with excuses like "they accidentally gave me extra" or "I packed too much today" Inui finds this a little odd but doesn't question it because free food.

Walks past the bike shop often, one time Inui waved at him and he almost walked into a street light in shock. 

Sometimes Rindou accidentally goes round there when Inui's not working and then he has very awkward interactions with Draken instead. 

One time Inui brings up how he wanted to beat Rindou and Ran up after he got out of juvie but then he immediately regrets mentioning it because he thinks it's probably weird to bring up now? Meanwhile Rindou is just thinking like "wow he knew I existed even all the way back then". 

Normally they talk about their weeks or random things while in the shop together, with Rindou browsing or waiting for Inui to finish whatever small problem he has now. Both of them enjoy these talks a lot. After awhile Rindou doesn't need the excuses anymore because it's accepted that he just takes his lunch breaks in the shop to hangout with Inui.

Rindou plans for ages on how to casually see Inui outside of the bike shop (his main plan is to invite him to see a movie together but he always get's too nervous). But then one day, when Rindou is mid rant about not having a good gym partner, Inui volunteers. Which really throws Rindou off for a sec but he quickly agrees and they become gym buddies. 

Rindou absolutely tries to show off his strength and flexibility to Inui.

During one lunch time hangout, Inui accidentally drinks from Rindou's bottle of water and Rindou stops functioning for a sec because indirect kiss!???

Rindou thinks he's being so secretive with this crush but literally everyone can tell aside from Inui. 

One time when they're walking past the shop together, Ran makes a comment to Rindou like "you sure do like going into that shop don't you?" and Rindou, who's panicking just goes "I've never been in there before" (this happens seconds after Inui waved at Rindou and Rindou waved back. 

Sometimes Rindou will leave anonymous gifts for Inui like a bouquet of his favourite flowers (he had to pay Koko for that information).

And finally, Rindou may not know it but he has already confessed to Inui. One time when they went drinking together, a drunken Rindou told Inui how much he loves him. Inui just smiled at him and said "you're drunk". Rindou may have forgotten that incident but Inui remembers it and wonders if he'll get to hear those words again from Rindou some day...

[kitthepurplepotato]

Chapter 21 - Let’s ignore the elephant in the room.

Summary: Y/N learns more about the people who live in Izuku’s head. No, she doesn’t think Izuku needs to see a therapist. Izuku already does that anyway.

Izuku also acts weird when it comes to the Hero Gala… what is he hiding?

(Is this how you write a summary? Hell, I’ve been away for too long.)

First Chapter Master List Ko-fi

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Somewhere in the near future

Y/N’s Diary entry #145

Life has been great. Too great, to be honest.

I was loved and appreciated and my side hustle helped me to get enough money to feel safe in case something goes wrong. No more stress about being a burden or feeling useless. Sounds great, right?

It was… it was great. Everything was splendid.

I knew something will happen in the future. I knew it can’t stay this good forever.

But I didn’t think the reality will hit me this hard.

The funny thing is, that it isn’t even about me. My life is still… great. But seeing my loved ones in so much pain is worse than being in it myself. The tears, the loud sobs, the sound of choking on air in the middle of a breakdown… these things live in my head rent-free, they keep me up at night and mess up my mornings and I hate how I’m completely unable to do anything to help my loved ones.

~•~

“I know we usually go from number ten to number one, but tonight… it will be different.” The entrepreneur announced on the hero gala without a single smile, shaking and kinda broken. No one clapped. They just sat in silence, their eyes the size of saucers, their anxiety clear even through the screen of the TV. “I have a letter from our favorite number one pro hero, Deku. Now let me read it for you.”

I knew right at that moment… that things won’t be same anymore.

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Back to the present.

“Do you think we went a bit unhinged in there?” You mumble to yourself as you enjoy the hot water of the onsen. Izuku looks at you questioningly, not really understanding what this is about; feeling his gaze on you after everything you two have just done it’s a little bit… well… embarrassing? No, it’s not the right word to use. It’s a pleasant feeling but it also makes you shy away a little bit. You feel like that meme that’s circulating the internet about wives getting shy around their long-term husbands after getting… well… loved hard. Now, there is two problems with this; first of all, it was your first time with him (plus you’ve only been together for a few months), second of all, your time together was anything but… hard. It was soft but scorching hot like a marshmallow being cooked by a fireplace. It was the exact opposite of what that wife was going through in that one meme.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… we are a bit too much, aren’t we?” You try to make yourself a bit easier to understand and by the look of it, Izuku gets it; but instead of getting shy about it, he just gives you a massive, adorable smile then moves into your personal space to answer you while your lips are almost touching.

This man will be the death of you.

“Is it weird to be obsessed with my girlfriend?” Izuku closes the distance, his lips moving on your own as he speaks. It makes your heart beat out of rhythm and you feel the familiar warmth in your tummy again, only half an hour after your cheeky shenanigans.

You blame it on the hot water, because otherwise… How insatiable can you be?!

“I mean, it might look weird to other people. But I guess I’m no better than you and if you are okay with it then so am I?” You answer with your eyes half lidded, anticipating the kiss you are so hungry for.

“I don’t give a fuck what others think, Sweets. Not when it comes to you.” Izuku grumbles in a deep voice and finally puts his lips back on yours for a chaste kiss. You can’t help but giggle.

“Did Kacchan’s soul just infiltrate you for a second there?”

“Nah, but my answer was heavily influenced by one of the vestiges inside me. He doesn’t talk much but when he does, he has a strong opinion.”

“They… talk to you?” You look up at your boyfriend with pure wonder. This is the first time you hear about this; he told you about feeling the old wielders inside him but he never clarified on what level he can communicate with them. In your head, you thought it’s more like a second conscience, like you can feel it when they are angry or happy about whatever is happening around Izuku but that’s about it.

“Yeah, I…” Izuku moves his face away from you but his arm snakes around your middle to pull you closer. You put your head on his chest, ready to hear his story. It’s something you do quite frequently; you put your head on his chest or in his lap while Izuku tells you unheard tales about stuff he’s been through. “You see, it’s really embarrassing to tell someone that there are several other people living inside my head, taking over my own thoughts sometimes. I don’t want to end up in a mental hospital… not like you would ever do something like that, but… I’m sorry I kept this a secret.”

“How does it work?” You take Izuku’s free hand in your own and start playing with it, trying your best not to sound so nosy. You fail.

“They… well… uhh, this is so hard.” He giggles. “They aren’t constant… they jump into my head once in a while when they have a strong opinion about something but they let me live my own life and they try their best not to interfere nor influence my decisions. They talk to me during battles, help me with strategies, I can also close my eyes and talk to them if I want to or need to. During my dark days, right after the accident I sometimes managed to completely zone them out. They weren’t happy about that.” Izuku admits.

“What were they thinking about us?” You try to change the topic because there is no way in hell you want Izuku to start getting all nostalgic and sad right now.

“They teased the shit out of me for being a coward. They knew about my feelings sooner than I did. They haven’t said too much but when they did they were… let’s just say I have a full ass “SweetZuku” ship gang inside my head.” He giggles, leaving a tiny kiss on the top of your head. “Don’t worry, they love you. Especially the first wielder. And the second, even if he denies it.”

“Tell them I said hi.” You mutter sleepily, way too comfortable in this position.

“You made them really happy by saying that. Maybe, in the future we could try and talk to them together.” Izuku smiles, elated from being understood.

“I would love that. Thank you, Izu… and the gang.” You giggle, moving your head towards Izuku’s to give him another kiss.

“I hope this kiss is only for me though. I’m a really giving guy, but I’m not sharing you.”

You laugh out loud; this reminds you of the time when Izuku got so jealous of that poor fan who asked for a selfie with you that his black whip came out in the middle of a meet and greet, scaring the shit out of the staff while the fans just took it as “fan service” and wrote poems about how cool it was to see black whip in action.

“I’m aware of that, Izu. Way too aware.” You giggle yourself as you keep peppering kisses on your boyfriend’s mouth.

“Sorry, it won’t change.” Izuku announces proudly and you are so proud of him that you are about to cry; this might sound like a red flag from anyone else, but seeing Izuku finally sticking to his opinion instead of trying to change for other people is such a big step up compared to his old self you can’t help but feel pride swelling in your chest because hell, you did that. It was a long struggle but finally, your work has payed off.

“You have nothing to be sorry about. I know you wouldn’t harm anyone nor me and it’s in your rights to be protective over your loved one so please, keep being jealous, it’s kinda hot, anyway.”

“Wow.” Izuku looks at you incredulously, extremely entertained by your answer. “I’ll… do my best to be healthily jealous then. I love the way you looked at me when I said that. In your words - it was kinda hot.” He gives you a massive grin.

“Going back to our original conversation…” you give Izuku a knowing smile. “We are really weird, but I really fucking like it.”

“That’s my girl.”

… yeah, you are definitely insatiable. There is no other explanation to why are you two heavily making out in the scorching hot onsen right now, absolutely ignoring the dizziness from being in the hot water for so long.

“Jesus Christ, can you stop making out so loud?!” Comes Kyouka’s voice from the other side of the massive privacy fence. “I’m trying to relax here!”

“Wanna take this to the bedroom, Sweets?” Izuku looks at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“I heard that!”

“He knows!” You yell to your friend as you crawl out of the water, stumbling to your towel while Izuku’s eyes move from your head to your toes shamelessly, clearly enjoying the “5 star view”. You really want to comment on it but after doing the same only a few hours ago, you have no rights to do so. “Come on, let Kyouka enjoy her solitude.”

“Yes, madam!”

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“Yup, they fucked.” Kaminari declares with a straight face, once he opens the door.

You really want to lie and say you have no idea why Kaminari thinks that’s true, because surprisingly enough, you did look into the mirror before and coming here and you did try to sort yourself out but… there are things you can’t really hide with make up; for instance, your eyes that shine like a fucking star got stuck in your irises or Izuku’s puffy lips and pink neck, still ruddy from all the kisses.

After the onsen… you two… well… uhm…

Let’s just say you couldn’t forget how Izu said he’s never done certain things in bed and that he was always on the giving side and never on the receiving side… So once you two were inside the four walls you decided to show him some other things he might have missed. You are quite sure you lost your voice during the “process” but it was absolutely worth it and Izuku got hooked on the new type of intimacy and came up with ideas of his own and… well, yeah. You are limping a little bit. Just a tiny bit. Mostly because of all the “leg training” but there’s also that other factor that you can’t even say out loud because you two are too fucking sweet to say those things. And all of these things had happened out of love so… there is no need to make it sound dirty. You two had a good time but maybe went a bit too far. Oh well, it happens.

“I really have an urge to yell about the audacity of coming to my humble abode looking like a wreck but if I would need to suffer another day with you two eye fucking each other at my table I’d probably explode myself to the other world, so just shut up and sit down.” Katsuki mutters, also with a straight face and Eijirou just sighs at that.

“At least they are not denying it. I remember you telling everyone a week ago that you got beaten up in a “secret mission” when…”

“OH MY GOD THERE WAS NO SECRET MISSION?!” Denki hollers out loud. “

“Nope. Just me. Sorry.” Eijirou gives the group the biggest grin known to mankind, not even flinching when Katsuki slaps him in the face with a kitchen towel.

After the group is finally distracted, everyone sits down to eat another gorgeous meal made by Katsuki himself, mostly talking about hero stuff and Rody’s shenanigans. The night goes well, until Kyouka brings up the hero rankings. Izuku’s whole body stiffens next to you as Kyouka starts to talk about the dress she decided on for the big event next week; the whole gang chimes in with their own choice of clothing, showing pictures on their phones back and forth, completely indifferent to the turmoil in Izuku who just stares at his leftovers and plays with a little pea in his bowl. You wordlessly try to console him by taking his clenched hand into yours; he clenches it so hard you almost yell out loud from the pain.

Something is wrong. Really wrong.

“What are you gonna wear to the Gala, Izuku?” Kirishima asks, eyes full of excitement but it changes into a look of concern once he takes a better look at the greenette.

“I’m not going to this one.”

Someone’s butter knife hits the table. Someone chokes on their drink. Everyone processes the information differently but one thing is identical; everyone looks at Izuku like he’d grown another head.

“You can’t be fucking serious.” Kyouka looks at Izuku, utterly dumbfounded.

“You are the Number One hero of this country.” Katsuki sneers. “It’s your fucking responsibility to show your cute little freckled face and make sure people know you are still there for them.” Katsuki said these words with venom in his voice; you are extremely surprised to hear Katsuki’s tone so harsh.

“I’m not there for them though, am I?” Izuku snaps back with his eyes full of tears. “I can’t fight their battles. I can’t help them. You can’t possibly ask me to show up and be all smiley and “cute” when my whole fucking career is in shambles!”

Everyone steps back for a second. There is an awkward, tension-filled silence at the table and you have no idea what to do; Izuku’s words make sense but they also don’t and you really don’t know who to stand with.

“Like it or not, he has a point.” Eijirou puts his hand on Katsuki’s shoulder. “As you can see, he’s still not okay. Let him sit this one out. It’s not worth ruining his amazing day.”

“He ruined it for himself when he started fucking yelling at me.” Katsuki stands up from the table, clearly shaken up by the whole situation; Katsuki might look like a strong person but he’s actually really sensitive; you can clearly see how wet his eyes are when he stomps into his room and slams the door on everyone.

“Kacchan!” Izuku is the next one to leave the table, running after the blonde with nothing but guilt in his teary eyes. Everyone just stares at the drama in utter silence, not really sure how to help or what to do to save this evening.

Thankfully, the fact that everyone at this table is an grown ass adult, the drama sizzles out after half an hour; Izuku and Katsuki emerges from the bedroom after some yelling and banging is heard from the other side of the door; their eyes are red rimmed and cheeks blotchy but they have their arms around each other’s shoulders and everything looks “okay”; or at least for the rest of the group who sigh happily when the two joins the Netflix-binge on the couch. Not you, though. You look at Izuku intensely, you look at the way his mouth smiles but the edges are still facing downwards, and you realize that something is still wrong; Izuku is hiding something, from the group, and from you.

Something is wrong but everyone ignores it, too happy to have the “good vibes back”.

You really feel the urge to yell at the group to look closely, to find a solution for the problem before someone gets hurt but all these heroes worked their asses off to have these few days off and you don’t have the heart to ruin their good time nor ruin Izuku’s only time where he can be out and about, far away from those four walls he is not used to be surrounded by for more than a few hours.

Will this decision bite you in the ass in the near future? Probably. Will you regret this decision a few days later? Yes… But you can’t help but smile when Izuku’s weird half-smile becomes a real one as he sits down on the sofa, snuggles into your arms while his legs end up on Katsuki’s lap who plays with the hem of his trousers in a weird, affectionate way.

“Are you okay?” You mutter into Izuku’s ears.

“No.” Izuku admits and your whole world turns upside down. “But one day…” he looks around his friends, who are all snuggled together on the sofa enjoying each other’s company, not knowing when the next time will be when they can be together like this. “One day, I’ll be okay. And that’s good. I’m happy with that for now. Sometimes, it needs to get worse before it gets better, you know.” Izuku smiles at you with a sad, but genuine smile and your heart skips a beat once again. You are so far gone for this man it’s ridiculous.

“It will all make sense, eventually.” You leave a tiny kiss on Izuku’s fluffy curls and turn back towards the TV. “I’m not worried, because if you ever get lost, I’ll be there to show you the right way.”

“And I’m counting on it.” Izuku smiles, but somehow, the sentence brought some weird eerie vibe into the room.

You try your best to read between the lines but you feel like there is a missing piece to this puzzle.

Ahh, let’s not overthink it for today. There is always a “tomorrow” to sort that shit out.

… to be continued!

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TL: @garfieldthomas @porusuniverse @stickygumchewer @sixxze @mily-moo @aei-sedai-moiraine @aymasakusa @katsuari @kenzie-deadly @shiviwrites07 @lukerycyja-reblogs @cloroxisadelectabletreat @coffeent @kisskissshutmydoor @bobcar1 @yazminetrahan @cringefan @ronimacaroni77 @themultifandomgirl @dangerousluv1 @emperatris-rinaka @shotos-angelic-whore @angelsdemonsmonsters @norvacaine @rei165 @unofficialmuilover @yao-ai @happydragonfrog @eeerreehhh @vinivave @alyss-eiz @sleepisfortheweakpooh

Potato ramble:

- Long time no see, guys. I know I have a lot of explanation to do but I’ll spare you from the gruesome details as I genuinely think no one deserves to even go through all the shit I’ve suffered even through another person.

But if you want to get a short version then here you are, but you don’t need to read it if you don’t want to.

The short story is: I’ve had two traumatic experiences in the last 3 years which made me extremely weak mentally but I always pushed through by saying “until this one person is with me I’ll be fine.” Well, this person stabbed me in the back in the most evil way, while I was the weakest, which ended up completely ruining me and traumatizing me once more (therapist’s words, not mine, I’m not being overly dramatic, just factual.) I live far away from my small family (2 hours with a plane) and I didn’t want to run away from my new home as I knew I’ll never have the balls to come back all alone so I had to endure all of my mental struggles without my family’s support. The only reason I’m still alive is my friends and my family who worked their asses off to keep me alive through the phone, and my work colleagues who never let me out of their sight and called me over so I don’t have time to think. I also have a therapist now which does wonders. So yeah, I literally didn’t have the mental energy to even give you guys a heads up.

I’m still struggling and I’ll probably never be the same but I’m trying my hardest; I gained all the weight back that I’ve lost (I was 45 kg to start with so me losing weight really wasn’t a good thing, I literally looked like a skeleton it was a nightmare), I started working out (in a healthy way) and I’m trying to get back to my old self. Please be patient with me.

- I have 3 or four chapters already written hence I decided to start posting again! I wanted to wait until the full story is done but I miss communicating with you and I also like to hear your thoughts before I write a chapter hence I decided to yolo it and start posting but please be patient with me. I still have breakdowns sometimes and I’m having a hard time writing about romantic things as my whole life is in shambles. But I really like this story (and the Kirishima one too! You will need to wait a little bit longer though 😭) so I decided to try and finish it.

- On a more positive note; look at my new rainbow flat! There is MHA in every single corner, even in the toilet btw, I’m living that best single life right now with my purple sofa, a magenta rug and fairy lights! With that said, see you in the next chapter! Please send me your thoughts 🩷 (Also, there is some angst incoming but this is the last one. Only good things after that!)

[utilitycaster]

Man, I didn’t want to believe the c3 stans on twitter were actually being that dense and hypocritical, but one quick search and woooooow. I can’t believe I’m seeing ‘I wish people could criticize CR without people jumping to CR’s defense!’ from the same people who’d call you homophobic for saying Laudna’s story arc has been poorly handled. Like these people aren’t even disagreeing that C3 has pacing issues now! But somehow they still can’t admit that maybe the naysayers had a valid point and it’s only a problem when their blorbos don’t get all the spotlight in the ending, something the naysayers were worried about ever since the Keyleth speed dial moment.

I’ve seen people say ‘to make up for BH not getting the full spotlight I want them to show up in C4!’ and like, that really does just highlight how all that matters to these people is their little blorbos getting more screen time. They see that pulling past parties into the current campaign can lead to them overshadowing the current party, and rather than arrive at the conclusion ‘we should limit the ability for past PCs to show up in future campaigns’ they think ‘I want C4 to focus on my favorite blorbos at the expense of the new party!’

YUP. One of the consistently worst, most unkind, and self-absorbed of the lot, who constantly takes anything that challenges the idea that their blorbos are not the most morally justified in the worst faith possible, made a post during their gross tantrum regarding the charity one-shot about how Bells Hells should crash the Fjorester wedding and like...I mean honestly it's just deeply sad. Like, most of the Bells Hells stans don't even like Fjord, Jester, Fjorester, or the Mighty Nein in general, and they probably wouldn't enjoy watching a one-shot (let alone paying to see it live) just to catch a brief glimpse of Bells Hells, and as someone who is paying to see it live my feeling is much more just...I mean that would be kind of weird, but like, the thing is, I like the Mighty Nein so much that a party I like less showing up is like, ok, weird choice, but the Nein are here. And they clearly hate the Mighty Nein more than they enjoy Bells Hells, and that is something of a tragedy.

A lot of us repeatedly said that the Bells Hells fans really wanted Campaign 2 but with Bells Hells and every time they jeered at us and now they're pointing to the time and space that the Aeor arc was given and crying that this is what they wanted. Hell, as someone else pointed out, they're too stupid to come up with a unique slogan - they've taken Liam's "what's sexier than wizards NOTHING" and swapped in sorcerers. They wanted Vox Machina in the story when it meant bringing back one of the most weakly conceived actual play characters to ever exist, and a lot of them even liked the Nein in episode 50 because they could write scenarios with Beau and Imogen, but suddenly, when it's apparent that this was never Bells Hells' campaign, it was the big trilogy finale in which Bells Hells were the current PCs, they're so bitter that they've already written off a Campaign 4 on every possible level. They can't ever extricate the party from past ones given Orym and Laudna's baked-in concepts and won't admit they got exactly what they signed up for.

They've been mad at us for literal years for calling various party members selfish, and we've known for years it was because they were, themselves, utterly selfish. It's really that simple.