#SO YOU LEAVE ME WITH NO CHOICE BUT TO ASSUME MISOGYNY

[theguardianace]

me and my six page outline on why women's hockey should be allowed to check, not because i actually think this rule should be changed, but because i'm beyond furious this distinction even exists

[bonefall]

post/734733274896809984/do-you-ever-worry-your-own-writing-might-come-off that makes sense. i was asking because i'm afraid of accidentally writing misogyny myself and i kind of admire what you do

Hmm... I wish I had better advice to give you on this front, but honestly, the only thing I can tell you is to consider the perspective of your female characters.

Women are people. They have thoughts and feelings of their own, so like... just let them have their own arcs. A lot of the worst misogyny in WC comes from the way that the writers just don't care about their girls (or, in the case of tall shadow, actually get undermined and forced to rewrite entire chapters), so they're not curious about their lives, or WHY they feel the way they do or what they want, or any direction for their character arcs.

Turtle Tail as an example. She'll often just end up feeling whatever Gray Wing's plot demands. She's gotta leave when Storm dumps him to make him feel lonely. She shows up again to love him in the next book. Lets her best friend Bumble get dragged back to Tom the Wifebeater, but is sad enough about her death to be "unreasonably angry" with Clear Sky, and then calms down and accept Gray Wing is right all along.

And then she dies, so he can have his very own fridge wife.

In this way, Turtle Tail's just being used to tell Gray Wing's story. They're not interested in why she would turn on Bumble, or god forbid any lingering negative feelings for how she didn't help her, or even resentment towards Clear Sky for killing her or Gray Wing for jumping to his defense. She isn't really going through her own character arc.

She does have personality traits of her own, don't misunderstand my criticism, but as a character she revolves around Gray Wing.

So, zoom out every now and then, and just ask yourself; "Whose story is being told by what I wrote? Do my female characters have goals, wants, and agency, or are they just supporting men? How do their choices impact the narrative?"

But that's already kinda assuming that you already have characters like Turtle Tail who DO have personalities and potential of their own. Here's some super simple and practical advice that helped me;

Tally the genders in your cast. How many are boys, how many are girls, how many are others?

And take stock of how many of those characters are just in the supporting cast, and compare that to the amount you have in the main cast.

If you have a significant imbalance, ESPECIALLY in the main cast, fire the Woman Beam.

It's a really simple trick to just write a male character, and then change its gender while keeping it the same. I promise women are really not fundamentally different from men lmao. You can consider how your in-universe gender roles affect them later, if you'd like, but when you're just starting to wean yourself off a "boy bias" this trick works like a charm.

Also you're not allowed to change the body type of any girl you Woman Beam because I said so. PLEASE allow your girls to have muscles, or be fat, or be old, or have lots of scars. Do NOT do what a cowardly Triple A studio does, where the women all have the same cute or sexy face and curvy body while they're standing next to dwarves, robots, and a gorilla.

Or this shit,

If you do this I will GET you. If you're ever possessed by the dark urge, you will see my face appear in the clouds like Mufasa himself to guide you away from the path of evil.

Anyway, you get better at just making characters girls to begin with as time goes on and you practice it. It's really not as big of a deal as your brain might think it is.

Take a legitimate interest in female characters and try not to disproportionately hit them with parental/romance plots as opposed to the male cast, and you'll be fine. Don't think of them as "SPECIAL WOMEN CHARACTERS" just make a character and then let her be a girl, occasionally checking your tally and doing some critical thinking about their use in the story.

(Also remember I'm not a professional or anything, I'm just trying to give advice)

[molsno]

hello ^-^

soo i saw one of your posts about transmisogyny which i thought was really well written and articulated, so i wanted to get your opinion on something.

i’ve seen some tme trans(masc) people on here say that treating trans men like “gender traitors” or “siding with The Enemy” is bioessentialist and terf rhetoric, however i see this brought up almost exclusively in response to conversations about tme and/or male privilege. to me it seems like they feel invalidated or vilified by trans women and discussions about transmisogyny, and so they reposition the issue as one which targets and oppresses them so that they can avoid having to confront any privilege they may possess. i also think the way they phrase it purposely obfuscates what they’re really getting at, which is that men are oppressed for being masculine and held up as the ultimate evil (patently untrue). but i don’t really know as much about it as you might and it’s also not my place to decide what is or isn’t transmisogyny as a tme, so i wanted to hear your thoughts.

no pressure to respond and i hope you have a nice day <3

thanks for the well wishes. I'm trying to hold it together today and I figure I may as well answer this to distract myself

anyway yeah, those are some pretty astute observations. to be honest, I have to agree that the "gender traitor" narrative is bioessentialist, which is why it very much is terf rhetoric. in order for trans men to be "gender traitors" or "siding with the enemy", you would have to suppose that they are fundamentally women, and that they chose to be trans in order to escape from misogyny and gain access to male privilege. the basis of this hypothetical relies on the premise that they are female due to some permanent unchangeable characteristic, which is exactly what bioessentialism posits. plus, this narrative relies on the willful depiction of transness as nothing more than a lifestyle choice, which is blatantly transphobic due to the fact that for many trans people, transness manifests independently of any external factors.

(you will find a lot of debate about what makes people trans, and there is a lot of disagreement even among trans people, but I'm not going to get into that right now. just assume that my point is that there is no universal narrative that explains why people are trans and it varies from person to person.)

that being said, I feel it's also important to point out that there's no shortage of transmascs who are terfs or were former terfs. the reason for this is pretty obvious when you think about it for a few seconds: terfs regularly talk about how womanhood is an innately traumatic and miserable experience, and closeted transmascs for whom womanhood IS a traumatic and miserable experience sometimes gravitate toward that community because it makes them feel understood. terfs very much operate like a cult in this way, and you could easily assert that transmascs who become terfs are victims of cult brainwashing. however, my sympathy for them ends the moment I remember that they willingly joined a hate group whose purpose is the extermination of people like me.

and make no mistake! many of these men are still just as transmisogynistic as they were before! even the ones who leave the terf community (which is not all of them) only do so because they often find that they're no longer welcome when they choose to transition, not out of any desire to atone for the violence they've perpetrated against trans women.

so, what are these trans men to do after they've been exiled from the community that validated their existence and gave them a political drive? how can they reconcile the fact that their decision to choose masculinity and manhood has resulted in them feeling ostracized, ridiculed, and isolated? it's simple really: redefine their politics around the premise that men are actually hated in society. this is an easy conclusion for them to come to when they've been living inside an echo chamber where everyone they know DOES hate men.

the problem with that, though, is that in the eyes of a radical feminist, a "man" is a biological category of person, and any critiques you can make about men's behavior can be attributed to a biological cause. terfs don't ACTUALLY hate men, they hate "biological males" - trans women.

and that's very true of these transmasculine "former" terfs as well. they still hold the same bioessentialist views, so they feel vilified whenever they come into contact with the "biological males" they've come to despise so much. most of them don't actually understand any other types of feminism besides radical feminism, so when they encounter trans women reminding them that they have male privilege, they fall back on their bioessentialist beliefs. they're not an evil "biological male", after all, they're a "biological female" who's "ontologically incapable of violence", and a feminist is criticizing them for "siding with the enemy" by "choosing masculinity".

you need to understand that when they do this, it is largely a form of deflection. they resent the radical feminists who discarded them for being trans, and are attempting to distance themselves from the people who hurt them. that's why they're so vehemently anti-feminist. and because they haven't unpacked any of their bioessentialist beliefs, they're able to paint trans women, who deep down they still view as privileged and dangerous biological males, as aggressive and oppressive radical feminists. ultimately, despite whatever conception they have of themselves, they're expressing a form of male entitlement by shutting the conversation down and making everything that terfs do about them, ignoring the fact that the vast, VAST majority of the violence they enact is targeted specifically at trans women. and why wouldn't they? they don't actually care about trans women. they still hate us just as much as they always have, even if they now pay us lip service and (sometimes) use the right pronouns for us.

let me make myself clear: not all transmascs do this. not even a majority! all in all, this kind of story represents a pretty small minority of trans men, but they're very vocal and very visible in the trans community. that's not to say that most transmascs don't hold transmisogynistic views (it's basically impossible to have absolutely none if you're tme), but few of them are this hateful. this story is just one that I've seen played out many times - mostly involuntarily - because I've gotten a lot of these types of guys arguing with me on here and painting me as a radfem for talking about basic feminist tenets such as "men are an oppressor class".

also, as a disclaimer since I don't have time to get into everything: terfs are not a monolith and some terfs welcome trans men into their ranks (though these are an even smaller number of them), this was just one scenario that I hope painted a clear picture of the cause behind this phenomenon you've observed.

I hope this was helpful. if you need more examples, keep an eye on the notes of this post; they'll come crawling in here to argue with me in no time.

[utilitycaster]

Hi, you've mentioned for a few times that people tend to react harder on everything Liam does compared to other male cast members. Why do you think that happens?

This is a good question, and I think genuinely someone could write an entire graduate thesis on fandom and gender, misogyny and backlashes of hate, and I am not the person to do that for a number of reasons. With that said I think there's a couple reasons Liam gets a lot of hate, but I think it's worth noting that literally every cast member gets a pretty significant amount of hate, and that post-Campaign 1 it's honestly been pretty even, from what I've seen, just coming from different quarters.

The first is that, and people who were around while C1 was running feel free to jump in (yes I understand the irony of me, a person who joined the fandom with the start of C2, saying this), but there is a really ahistoric understanding of the fandom in Campaign 1. It's obviously true that there was a ton of misogyny, particularly towards Marisha and Laura (and probably Ashley was spared the worst of it at the time simply by being absent and not out of any respect) but there was also no small amount of homophobia/biphobia (hating on Liam for playing Vax as an openly bi character, hating on Taliesin for being a bi person). There was also, from what I understand, a not-insignificant amount of backlash hate for Vax being bi but choosing to pursue a romantic relationship with Keyleth rather than Gilmore; and people not liking generally that Vax was on the surface the cool fast rogue guy but also was extremely emotional and explored grief and depression in depth.

(I think there's a similarly ahistoric reading that Travis and Sam were the heroes of the dudebro crowd, and to an extent they were, but the downside is, as I said in my post about Marisha, the dudebro crowd of C1 has, thankfully, waned over time, but the backlash towards it hasn't, and so years later people still don't take Travis and Sam's characters seriously and treat them as stupid jokes, despite that never having been the case. Also the dudebros who liked The Player Who Was Asked To Leave have hated Travis from early on, since is feelings on the matter were pretty transparent.)

Moving into Campaign 2, Caleb was quite popular and the "ew, a man having feelings?" crowd was, as mentioned, drifting away, but you got the Marisha Character Defenders who were mad that sometimes characters argued with Beau, or that sometimes people just preferred Caleb to Beau, and you got shippers (largely Beau and Jester shippers) who were furious about Caleb and Jester as a ship. My own feelings aside re: Caleb and Jester and the shippers thereof and their behavior since that ship was sunk, at least they weren't in the habit of harassing cast members over their music choices or sending death threats. A lot of them assumed Fjord was not interested in romance, so Travis was left out of it until pretty late in the campaign, and a lot of them would not admit to being mad at Laura or Marisha, even though they were, ergo: Liam.

The final reason? Liam is on social media and responds to things. I hate to sound like my parents here, but like...Travis and Taliesin get hate on tumblr but also I don't think either of them pay attention or care, so it's not satisfying to people who like being an asshole. Liam actually responds to this stuff (this is not a judgment, I understand the impulse) so people keep doing it. I don't think Liam is actually swayed by the fandom in his gameplay, but I do think he tries to be generous and kind and good faith on social media and so people attempt to take advantage of it. I think Matt is similarly sensitive to the fans but as DM cannot really address all questions/got over it sooner; and Taliesin, Travis, and Sam are all to an extent openly dismissive or oblivious, so while there's some hate it hits a dead end.

[salora-rainriver]

Deconstructing the Redpill Romantic Ideology #1: Replika is not worthy competition

(i dont actually know if thisll be a series but what i do know is i have essay-level thoughts about a specific brand of redpiller and their hot takes on how romance works and a gang of professional snarkers started begging me to make a blog, which made me realize I already have a blog)

you've seen takes like these and you probably don't need an essay to understand why it's deeply silly.

However, I'm not satisfied with saying "this is deeply silly" and leaving it at that, because the degree and level to which it is deeply silly and yet is a position sincerely held by multiple otherwise probably-fairly-educated-and-intelligent-humans indicates how much a very narrow view of human sexuality has embedded itself inside the human psyche, because takes like these are not only wrong, the mere premise they're built on is utterly fallacious.

so let's explore that premise!

On the surface it's a very simple argument:

AI is getting smarter, robots are getting more realistic, sex work is the oldest profession, and it can be automated. If a robot is a more ideal partner than a human woman, then men will choose the robots over human women, and without these man/woman partnerships, society will collapse and the birth rate will plummet.

but if we dig deeper into this argument, there's a few more premises here than are explicitly stated. you might THINK this is a simple argument because explicit and clearly-stated premises like "AI is getting smarter" and "sex work can be automated" are actually not fallacious. that makes sense, but here's the problem:

"If a robot is a more ideal partner than a human woman, then men will choose the robots over human women"

"without these man/woman partnerships, society will collapse and the birth rate will plummet."

these two statements are assuming a LOT. I don't care to talk about birth rates and reproduction (BLEH), so let's focus on what that first one is assuming to be true. I'll lay it out right now. If what the doomsayers claim is true, and the advent of deeply realistic sex robots and girlfriend AIs will lead men to choose sex robots and girlfriend AIs over women, then the following must also be true:

a) the only romantic or sexual competition women have at the moment is other women b) the sexual desire of women is either totally absent, or irrelevant to this issue c) when someone chooses a partner, they will only choose one d) human beings are perfectly capable of assessing who would be an ideal partner for them e) human beings actively choose who to be sexually and romantically attracted to, and they always make this decision after a careful analysis of every option in front of them. f) men want perfect partners g) companionship and sex are the primary benefits to having a romantic partner, and "companionship" can be replicated with a machine that engages in private one-on-one conversations.

and believe me when I tell you NONE OF THIS IS UNIVERSALLY TRUE.

actually you don't even need to just take my word for it, bcs this is a deranged rant and I'm gonna break it all down. because the level of which these people don't understand is fascinating and I feel like it demonstrated the power of this heteronormative mind trap that most of the world is somehow still caught in!

---------

a) the sexual desire of women is either totally absent, or irrelevant to this issue

this is, I think, the most obvious issue with the premise that people will notice. "hey, women are horny too?" and i think most people also see how this demonstrates the background radiation of blatant misogyny that's constantly permeating these arguments. Bcs come the fuck on, do you not think women are people, or something? they have choices too, they don't just accept shit. they could also replace men with robots if they wanted to.

"okay but this doesn't change anything. you've just demonstrated that the robot threat is still present, it's just working both ways" yeah no, fair enough! But now let's talk about...

b) the only romantic or sexual competition women have at the moment is other women (for the non-gendered version of this, swap out "women" for "people")

this is utterly laughable.

women are most certainly not the only romantic competition of other women. For starters, this assumes exclusive heterosexuality, and gay people exist. bi people exist. sometimes a woman's competition is a man, sometimes a man's competition is a woman. If we start talking about nonbinary people, we're gonna be here forever.

some are ace and don't have romantic or sexual competition at all, because they don't even want to compete!

But of course you could argue that queer people are a minority so this statement still stands for the vast majority of people. even if it didn't, we're still looking at a situation where the only romantic and sexual competition people have is other people.

and uh,

no.

come on, we're on the internet. here's a short list of things that have at least slightly substituted for romantic and sexual contact for like, MOST people:

fictional characters, sex toys, pornography, sex workers, dating sims, self-insert fanfiction, and unhealthy parasocial crushes on celebrities.

there's also other secondary benefits to having a partner that can be readily substituted with things that aren't romantic or sexual, such as:

really close friendships, pets, dolls, plushies, plants, virtual pets, more parasocial relationships, and family members.

there's a lot of fucking competition out there when it comes to something assessing whether or not they actually need your services as a romantic partner. Shockingly, this has not destroyed society, and the institution of marriage has not been systematically dismantled by beatlemania, Sasuke Uchiha, playboy magazine, strip clubs, BDSM clubs, the concept of a 'waifu', the entire romance novel industry, self-insert fanfiction, queerplatonic partnerships, glory holes, cat ladies, plant mamas, HuniePop, adults with stuffed animal collections, RealDolls, or your really sweet grandma who's always there for you.

so forgive me if I'm skeptical of the idea that a realistic ai-powered sex doll is going to take the dating world by storm, because this is already a hotly competitive field where many niches have already been filled. What can this sexbot offer that isn't just a slight improvement to the girlfriend-replacers already on the market? seriously.

but also, the entire concept of conceiving of the process of human mate selection like a marketplace is full of problematic assumptions. for starters...

c) when someone chooses a partner, they will only choose one

"not everyone's polyamorous, gaby" THIS ISN'T ABOUT POLYAMORY, HAVE YOU NOT NOTICED THE LEVEL OF INFIDELITY THAT HAPPENS IN NORMAL SOCIETY WITH NORMAL PEOPLE?

people get hella greedy. Even if we take the most stereotypical average guy and put him in this hypothetical situation where he's picking between perfect robot and imperfect human woman, why are we assuming he won't fuck them both? let's not be fucking naiive.

honestly, given how men and women treat their fictional crushes when they simultaneously have actual real life partners, even a faithful monogamous man will probably consider the sex doll with the same level of romantic commitment as his gf considers her vibrator: "eh, when the bae isn't around".

and while we're deconstructing the perception of human mate-selection as a marketplace of romance, let's talk about the classic problem of idealized market economics:

d) human beings are perfectly capable of assessing who would be an ideal partner for them

most folks get easily tricked into buying inferior products, so why are we so confident in the assertion that people will actually understand what an ideal romantic partner looks like? also consider how little information we tend to have on the "product" we are "buying".

people fall for abusive relationships much like they fall for scams: they're ill-informed on both the product and their best interests, they're subjected to manipulative communication strategies, their judgement may be impaired by internal or external sources, and then they're pressured into hasty decisions.

and unless sexbot companies get really fucking aggressive with their marketing, I'm not sure they'll be able to compete with your average toxic person.

"but Gaby, that's a really dystopian situation you're describing. in fact, it's more dystopian than what the sexbot doomsayers are predicting" YES, IT IS! in fact, if this was the only flaw of the premise, I would actively be speaking out against the development of sexbots, specifically because I'm aware of how insidious marketing is at convincing you that an inferior product is top of the line. honestly the fact that you're not considering the factor of deception and abuse in this situation shows that you need to get back to the books and get a better perspective on what human romance and sexuality truly entails beyond idealized formulaic scenarios.

but also... there's a way more fundamental assumption we're making with all of this:

e) human beings actively choose who to be sexually and romantically attracted to, and they always make this decision after a careful analysis of every option in front of them.

the more you think about this one, the more baffling it is.

Read that sentence again. visualize what it's describing. does that feel true to you? does that look like human behavior? does that at all align with what you've seen happening in the world?

Do I... really need to explain to you that people very rarely choose to fall in love, that love is sudden, seemingly arbitrary, illogical, subjected to raw whim, and scarcely understood? You... you already know that.

You've grown up reading this, watching this, hearing about this, feeling it. You know that the decision to love someone isn't

so... how exactly can the world of human romance ever be even remotely like a marketplace? the analogy is completely broken at even the most basic level, so why do we cling to it? has our market-based economy completely infected our minds?

You could use this perfect idealized robot as your replacement girlfriend for your entire life, but never love her, because she's not actually a person, and then you look at a new friend and you realize you *want* her. Not someone like her, not someone as good or better than her, just *her*.

Superior competition can't kill love, because love doesn't understand the meaning of 'superior'.

f) men want perfect partners

Breaking this down would just copy a bunch of what I talked about in the previous section, but I'd like to discuss where logical decisions do factor into mate decision, when immediate and obvious feelings of love aren't present, and the person is forced to consider the pros and cons of a partnership with... i guess you could say 'logic'.

let's face it, lots of people find perfection boring. Humans will actively seek out flawed partners for lots of reasons.

Sometimes they don't feel like it's a flaw. I for one think that blemishes, spots, and wrinkles are beautiful in their own way. It's fun for me to draw those sorts of faces, because it's more difficult to properly capture than the idealized smoothed-out doll face, and I love looking at them, because there can be so much detail and expression. even at their most perfectly gorgeous and realistic, I'd probably find the sex doll butt-ugly.

Some people are into the flaws on a level higher than I am, even. there's a kink for everything, and if you're here, you're probably aware of chubby chasers, hybristophiliacs, monsterfuckers, and whoever the fuck is the target audience for the yandere archetype. I don't think a sanitized sex doll will appeal to them.

Some look at a broken person and want to fix them, to care for them.

... Some look for broken people because they're easier to manipulate and turn loyal.

and all of that, of course, could hypothetically be accounted by the sex doll manufacturers. older-woman-with-cellulite doll. big nose doll. yandere doll. abuse survivor doll. maybe in the sex doll dystopia, there's a doll for everyone.

... the problem is that companies are lazy. and cowardly. if a type of appeal is too niche, no one will want to make it. these dolls are going to take a lot of work and money to produce. think about the videogame industry. lots of people with lots of different personal tastes. and it's a huge industry catering to all of those tastes... but most really big, really expensive games are middle of the road "safe" options, designed to appeal to as many as possible.

and now let's remember how poorly business executives can understand the desires of their target audience.

you're not gonna get your perfect partner. you're gonna get a bland idea of a "perfect partner" for "everyone", and she's gonna be boring. all the interesting sex bots will be low-budget and less realistic.

g) companionship and sex are the primary benefits to having a romantic partner

... and there's gonna be some things a robot and ai could never give you.

for starters, an AI can't touch you. lots of humans want a partner for the simple reason that they're touch-starved. I've heard predictions that the sexbots of the future will have realistic and warm human touch, but I do wonder how feasible that will truly be ...and there's something psychological about being touch-starved, too. People have created soft things to simulate the warmth and pressure of human touch, and I've tried some of those, and the thing is, even knowing there's not a real human makes the feeling different. no matter how realistic the sexbot is, you're gonna know she's not real.

and... some humans want children. again, someone may argue you could create a false robotic child very easily, but again, you would know that's just a doll.

and sometimes the people who want a partner are looking for someone to not just emotionally, but materially support them. Sexbots cannot do labor. they can't pay the bills. they can't cook. they can't clean. At best, maybe it'll be a virtual secretary you can fuck, but it's not exactly sound groundbreaking to put SIRI and a girlfriend AI into a blow-up doll, now does it?

and maybe you've forgotten... we're all in a society. Some people look for a partner solely because they want the status of not being single. the status of getting laid. the status of 'bagging' a girl. the status of having physical proof that you're desirable.

a fake girlfriend is never going to give you that, no matter how realistic she is.

----

and all of that's just... obvious, isn't it? I mean, normally I'd do heavy research if I wanted to deconstruct a widespread idea, but here, that'd be excessive. What, I'm supposed to prove with empirical data that love is irrational? that people get into relationships just to seek social status, financial stability, or a live-in maid you can fuck? that people want children, real children and not just dolls of children? that abusers seek out the vulnerable? that some people want to fuck Jason Voorhees? that men sometimes cheat on their gfs because they just wanted to bang another woman? that human beings aren't perfectly rational buyers? that gay people exist and women get horny?

This is... all common knowledge. So why does this bizarre view of the world of dating, sex, and romance as some sort of marketplace of perfect rational customers even exist? what sort of brainworm has captured our society to such an extent that we've all accepted this viewpoint as a valid take? why have so many fallen for it?

I suppose the easy explanation is "these men just hate women. they've never loved a woman and they don't know what it's like, so they imagine it'd be the same as what they feel when jacking off to their favorite porn," but that doesn't...

surely there isn't an epidemic of straight men who've never fallen in love. and even if there was, surely they've seen other straight men falling in love. and if they haven't... why not?

or do they think it's all a lie, that such kinds of love only happen in movies and books? are they lonely in other ways, no friends, no acquaintances, no casual parties or people-watching or talking about others with a coworker or neighbor? how deep is the bubble they're in to have them never encounter even one of the things I've discussed above, or at the least to never consider the implications of them as embodied refutations of this deeply cynical view of human relationships?

is it just that you don't care what women want, or you don't think their desires would ever produce realistic male sexbots for whatever reason?

do you think that all the porn and waifus in the world haven't cured your loneliness so you're not sure why they'd ever be in competition with real women?

or conversely, you're fully aware that they're competing with women, you think they're superior to women in every way, and you just see sexbots as the next step towards the impending obsolescence of women?

do you comprehend perfectly the notion of infidelity and non-monogamous coupling, but simply envision that no reasonable guy would want to cheat on Replika with a real woman?

do you see the fallibility of human rationality as irrelevant... or alternately, that these AI girlfriends offer a security that real women cannot give, because the AI will never surprise you?

have you never experienced a sudden and irrational desire for a very specific person, not someone like them, but only them, and you think the people who claim to have felt this are lying?

do you think the men who fall for and desire the imperfect are either lying or fundamentally broken? same for the men who want a woman capable of supporting them financially?

is the concept of wanting to care for another human being on an intimate level, just for the sake of seeing them become happier and healthier, an innately alien concept to you?

do you think yourself so deeply in the trenches of social status that you've come to spite the entire concept of it, resigned yourself to a life of being intensely undesirable, and thus how could you ever get better than this facsimile... and yet you still think your departure from the dating pool will be missed by those who've never wanted you?

have you just been holding mutually exclusive beliefs in your head this entire time, and simply never had the moment to stop, look at yourself, and realize this?

What else has broken in your mind, that you think a corporate product in the shape of a sex object will absolve you of any need for human connection?

and.... do you think we're all like that?

[ts1989fanatic]

A man has declared Taylor Swift a bad role model. Why? Because she's unmarried and childless

A misogynistic Newsweek piece about Taylor Swift’s unwholesomeness has been doing the rounds on social media. It’s dangerous, offensive and outdated, says Claire Cohen

Is Newsweek ok? The magazine has just published an article explaining why ‘Taylor Swift is not a good role model’, the argument for which boils down to — and this is a direct quote — the fact that “at 34, Swift remains unmarried and childless.” A spinster, if you will.

Excuse me, while I just reset my phone calendar from 2024 to 1954.

The article was written by a man — those famous experts on good female role models — who argues that, having dated “at least a dozen men”, the singer isn’t “wholesome” enough to set an example. Basically, she’s a slut. I haven’t checked yet, but I assume there’s also a free chastity belt with every issue,

“While Swift's musical talent and business acumen are certainly admirable, even laudable, we must ask if her personal life choices are ones we want our sisters and daughters to emulate,” writes John Mac Ghlionn, which astonishingly is not a pseudonym used by Andrew Tate. Phew. Thank goodness someone has finally said it. After all, what sane person would want their daughter or sister to be a strong, wildly successful, independent woman who doesn’t feel any pressure to have married by 34? Who has donated enough money to UK foodbanks to cover their bills for an entire year? Heaven forbid!

As role models go (and being on a pedestal is a tough gig) she's blazing a trail: standing up for LGBTQ+ rights, taking a man who groped her to court and winning, boycotting Apple Music until it agreed to pay royalties to all artists during the platform's trial period, refusing to be controlled by re-recording her own albums when she was refused to chance to buy the rights herself, speaking honestly about her eating disorder, condemning bullying, admitting she's been as insecure about female friendship as the rest of us. If that can't be filed under "wholesome", what can?

“This is not an attack on Swift; it's a valid question that is worth asking,” continues the self-appointed arbiter of women’s behaviour (funny how it’s always men who leap to take on that role). “This cycle of brief, intense relationships can unintentionally glamorise a type of romantic promiscuity where partners can be replaced as easily as toilet paper.”

Which, funnily enough, is exactly how I’d like to use this outdated, offensive piece of so-called journalism.

It positions a woman’s worth in terms of her duty towards men and sends us back to an era in which we were little more than walking wombs

Some have called it desperate. I’d say dangerous. To claim that Swift’s power as a role model is diminished by those mediaeval metrics is pure misogyny. It positions a woman’s worth in terms of her duty towards men and sends us back to an era in which we were little more than walking wombs.

All together now: under his eye.

To claim that Swift’s power as a role model is diminished by those mediaeval metrics is pure misogyny

Perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised that we’re still living in an era in which men are able to publicly chastise women for not being chained to the kitchen. After all, it was only in May that NFL player Harrison Butker gave his charming speech, to a room filled with female graduates, telling them to embrace being ‘homemakers’ and that being a mother was their most important role. Leave earning money to the man, there’s a good girl.

As a harpy who dared to have several different boyfriends in her 20 and 30s, and was “unmarried and childless” at 34, I’m nonetheless going to go out on a limb and say that domestic bliss isn’t the sole happily-ever-after we should be selling young women. And it is something that women specifically are told they should aspire to. Perhaps I’m wide off the mark, and Newsweek is at this very moment lining up an article on why Harry Styles is a terrible role model to young boys for exactly those reasons. But, somehow, I can’t quite see it.

IS HARRY STYLES ALSO A BAD ROLE MODEL BECAUSE HE’S UNMARRIED AND CHILDLESS?

And no doubt if Swift was married with children, she’d be criticised for leaving her family at home while she selfishly went on tour and accused of emasculating her husband by being the breadwinner.

The whole thing is from the same playbook that belittles Swift’s fans as though they’re in the grip of some Victorian hysteria; irrational and shallow. Liking her music is looked down on by those who consider themselves arbiters of what’s culturally ‘good enough’, in the same way as romantic literature by women is written-off as mere ‘chick lit’. It’s misogyny hiding behind having ‘good taste’, just as the Newsweek article is misogyny masquerading concern for the loss of some old-fashioned moral code.

Look, I’m sure Taylor isn’t exactly weeping over this drivel while counting the billion dollars she’s made from the Eras tour. But she and her fans deserve better than this retrograde rubbish. Because I can’t think of anything more “wholesome” than bringing together thousands of women and girls every night, united in joy, to sing songs about not settling for a life that makes you unhappy.

Taylor Swift not a good role model? She’s a bloody great one.

[peachymilkandcream]

Please, Levi strapping her to a breeding bench and turning her into his mindless, fucked out, cum dump please.

Levi x Evelyn -> You Think You Have A Choice?

(A/N: Bold of you to assume that she isn't always his cum dump XD Also this will be a slight spoiler for chapter 12 of Break me Slowly so read that first! I'm loving you all are giving me such unique and not vanilla requests. Just a heads up to future asks, any asks submitted later today won't be written until Sunday because tonight and Saturday I'll be gone all day. Feel free to continue to request you'll just have to wait a hot minute for me to fulfill them. Thanks!)

WARNINGS: noncon, dubcon, manipulation, domestic abuse, yandere themes, forced marriage, forced pregnancy, stockholm syndrome, violence, mind breaking, misogyny, etc.

=============================================

After Levi had discovered the contraceptives his "darling wife" had been keeping from him he was determined to make her suffer for it. She was not allowed to leave the room until he was convinced she was pregnant. She had gone back to her stubborn ways of fighting him, no longer protected by the net of birth control she fought tooth and nail to keep him at bay. While he had no issue pinning her down, the last thing he wanted was the stress to get to him and keep her from getting pregnant, or heaven forbid she waste any of his precious cum.

Which is what led him to now, built by his own two hands. Comfortable enough that she could be there for a long time without causing too much injury that could get infected. This was mostly about humiliation, she was his wife, sure, but in reality nothing more than his property and personal baby machine. It wasn't so pretty when he worded it like that, but it was the truth of the matter.

Gracious as ever, he had let her out of the bed to go to the bathroom, but he had taken the door off the hinges to watch her at all times while setting this up. He almost thought it was gift, this would get her pregnant quicker and keep his wrath at bay. He was doing her a favour.

When she came out of the bathroom her face was not filled with gratitude, but with fear. Automatically she started to back up, as if he hadn't seen her or she could escape what happened next.

"No you don't." He chased after her, at first pulling at her arm.

"Don't Levi-"

"You can sit there willingly or I can make you. You pick."

"Is that really any choice!?"

"You think you have a choice? Your choice was when you took those damn pills. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes my dear."

"If you hadn't forced me to-"

She's cut off by his hand to her cheek, his wedding band biting into her skin. "Don't. Finish that sentence. Now do as you're told."

She looks at him with teary eyes and shakes her head.

"No? Okay." He simply lifts her over his shoulder, bringing her kicking and flailing. Setting her down and using his upper body strength to keep her still while he strapped her in.

Evelyn fought and tried to move in anyway but with how tightly he had strapped her down she couldn't move an inch, and with her back turned to him she couldn't see how close he was getting to entrance until he shoved it all the way in. Making her groan and pull at her restraints. She was so sore from how much he had abused her pussy that now it was becoming torture.

It hurt as he pounded away at her until she was almost weeping, even she knew it was her own stupid fault that she was like this. She was stupid to have those pills, stupid to think she could get away with it for much longer.

=============================================

She couldn't even count how many times he came inside her, the last time he pulled out her gaping hole audibly dripped onto the floor. By now she had just gotten used to taking it, moaning without shame. Even though she was sore and hurt something about being used made her enjoy every minute of it. And so full of him. Her mind flashes to Petra, wishing she could see her right now and know the only person Levi took any interest in.

"Ready to go again pet?" He slaps her ass, already red with handprints.

"Yes Levi-" She someone manages.

He slides in again, continuing with the same rough pace as normal, taking what belonged to him. She was slick with cum and arousal, her pussy twitching, trying to push him out and give her a break. But he was more determined. His fingers rubbed her clit, making her squirt on his fingers again. She was just a ragged mess, eyes rolled back as she took everything from him.

However her cunt was so worn it wasn't as tight, so for good measure he shoved his cum covered cock into her ass, making her clench. Here she was much tighter, her body tried to force him out, but that had never stopped him before. He continued until he was close, before pulling out suddenly and diving back into her pussy and filling her once again, cum squirting out around his dick. Maybe now she'd learn her lesson.

[issie-https]

𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐍 - 𝐒𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐓

𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝑻𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒏.

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: 𝑲𝒊𝒅𝒏𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒈𝒆 & 𝑴𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏.

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔: 1029

𝑨/𝒏: 𝑰 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔! 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 2 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒃𝒆 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒓.

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄 - 𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓

I could feel something or someone watching my every move. Every breath, every blink, every thought even — everything I did was being watched. Maybe I was going insane? Surely no one was watching me, its not a normal thing to do in todays society — stalking and staring was frowned upon. I told the voices in my head to shut up and continued stocking the shelves at the small store I worked at. I had death metal was playing in my headphones, quietly enough so I could hear if anyone was asking for help but loud enough so the low hum of the air-conditioning was drowned out.

I heard the quiet noise of the hinges on the door creak, signaling to me that someone had entered the shop. I assumed it was just another skateboarding, monster drinking teenager wanting to ogle at the newest hip hop album. Couldn't blame them though, I do like Eminem's music but if we're being honest, metal and rock music owns my heart. I was quickly pulled out of my head by someone saying, "Excuse me,".

"Hello, can I help?" I asked, pausing my music. "I was just wondering if you could help me find the metal records?" he asked. His eyes we're gorgeous, a captivating shade of blue. "Of course, any specific genre of metal?" I asked. "Heavy metal," he replied. "Good choice," I said, "it's all in this section here, as well as that shelf there". "Cool, thanks," he grinned.

I sat on the spinning chair behind the counter, changing the cd over to Nirvana's 'Nevermind' album and skipping to track 3. The sweet sounds of Kurt's voice filled the store as I hummed along to the lyrics and bounced my knee to Dave's drumming. The same guy came up to the sticker-covered counter and placed a Deftones vinyl on it, "Just this,". I picked up the record and scanned the label, "Sophisticated taste," I said. "Says you. Nirvana is a great choice," he replied. "Thank my dad for that part of my music taste," I said, "Your total is twelve bucks,". He handed me the money as I slid the vinyl over to him. "In that case, my compliments to your dad," he smiled before leaving the shop.

I sat there after, picking at some of the older stickers that needed replacing as the image was almost completely faded and the edges were sticky, dirty and coming up.

I went through the rest of my day, a handful more customers came and went, some buying Britney Spears, some buying HIM and others buying 50 Cent. I couldn't get that one guy off my mind. He was literally perfect, black hair with red streaks, blue eyes, an amazing smile and killer music taste. A guy like that is hard to find nowadays, most of them have short, slicked back hair and only listen to songs based around misogyny. I should've asked for his fucking number. Idiot.

Its rare we get someone that likes heavy metal come into the shop. So that one person that comes in and buys a metal album always makes me smile. I had been raised on metal and rock music, my mum being into Guns N Roses, AC/DC and KISS while my dad was into Nirvana, Green Day and Blink-182.

I had also always been fascinated by the rock/metal culture, the music being loud and deafening while also serenading my ears. Metalheads as a group also peaking my interest, other people thinking that we're freaks or Satan worshipers when in reality, we just need an escape from reality. Metal and Rock music is our home, comforting on a bad day and making us smile on a good day — bringing people of all kinds together.

༺✧༻

As the time reached 6:45pm, it was time to close the shop. However, five minuets before I left that same feeling that someone was watching me took over again — it sent chills down my spine, causing goosebumps to rise onto the surface of my skin. I, as usual, brushed it off and locked the store, closing the shutters and went straight to my car. A black van was parked two spaces away from mine, death metal blasting from the slightly parted windows.

I listened to KoRn the whole way home, my vocals sounding butchered as I did my best John Davis impression. I'm sure that if anyone was to hear me, they'd think I sound like a cat being strangled.

I got back to my small house and immediately kicked off my shoes, the blisters from the harsh leather already stinging on the surface of my skin. I noticed the light on my back porch was on, making me mumble to myself, 'fucking cats'. I don't hate cats but they annoy me when they shit and piss on my garden. I shoved my frozen pizza into the oven and grabbed a beer out the fridge. I clicked the television on and put on a random movie on MTV.

I did my regular night routine; get home, eat dinner, drink a beer or two, watch crap on tv, get into my pyjamas and fall asleep on my couch. I could feel myself get taken away by sleep, off to a different world — a better world, mentally satisfying my every need. That was until I heard the front door unlock. Someone was breaking in, just my fucking luck. I grabbed the nearest heavy object which just so happened to be a shoe from my pair of Doc Martins. "Who's there?!" I yelled. I tried to keep my voice strong but my nervous tone seemed to slip through. I could hear a series of hushed words, something like 'I told you she wasn't fully asleep'.

The last thing I could remember was some kind of smoke filling the air as my lungs felt like they were getting tight inside my ribcage, suffocating me as I struggled to keep consciousness. My eye lids felt heavy, straining as they fought against falling asleep. The last thing I saw was four men standing around me in funky looking masks. Great. This is how I die.

[astral-from-afar]

Disclaimer: This is all in good fun and was mostly inspired by the upcoming jjk poll. Will not tag this in jjk as I am not here currently to start fighting people.

Ok the latest poll got me thinking about what characters were on that list last time. So this is basically me side eyeing everyone for their choices last year

Megumi - I get it. Megumi’s pretty cool. Took me a while to get to that point but I’ve accepted this man’s popularity and I just go along with it. Really don’t have anything else to say about him.

Gojo - Can’t believe he was still in the box during this. You can tell how strong the Gojo fans are because he has not been seen in action for YEARS yet you’re still voting for him. Props to you I guess. Good luck beating Gege and getting him 1st in the next poll

Yuji - Ok my boy was not fighting in the TRENCHES to become 3rd in his own series. Yes he should have gotten 1st yes I will stand by that until the day I die and yes I still can’t believe he got outdone by a guy in a box.

Geto - I know you’re all coping bc of his death with him being in top 5 and honestly me too. Gege still won’t let this poor man rest so you won’t let the anyone else in the fandom rest as a consequence. Don’t expect him to be in top 5 again but who knows.

Nanami - Overtime sorcerer SUPREMACY. I best see him here again because he does not miss. Nanami fans are the real ones so I’m not dragging on him.

Inumaki - Salmon Salmon. For a man who also hasn’t been seen in 2 years he did pretty well all things considered. I’m still waiting for him to show up so until then you go Inumaki fans.

Choso - Ok I’m just salty here but you lot really put HIM here on the top 10. How much screen time did this man really have. He did not deserve to be placed that high and if I see him being placed higher than Yuki then we know it’s on sight. He’s great and all but really? Just really?

Yuta - As a resident Yuta has never done anything wrong, I am disappointed in all of you. Did vol 0 mean nothing? Was his interactions with Yuji nothing to all of you. To the point of Choso overtaking him. Smh

Toji - I’m going to assume it’s the horny and leave. You did not drag the no child support, fugly grey sweatpants, boring ass guy into the top 10. Just admit that he’s hot and take your leave. Ok being fair he was a good antagonist during the hidden Inventory arc but istg if I hear more Toji stuff we are not going to see me again.

Naoya - OK LISTEN UP HERE EVERYBODY. HOW MANY PANELS DID THIS FUCKER HAVE. WHAT IN THE ABSOLUTE HELL DID HE DO IN THE ENTIRETY OF THE MANGA OTHER THAN BEING COOKED BY MAKI. IM WAITING. This just feels like fandom misogyny as the next two people are in the manga for 10x longer and did more things overall, to then be overshadowed by this dickhead.

Nobara - My beloved you did not deserve to be snuffed out of top 10. I am still on that copium that she’s still alive but honestly you really had to do her like that :(

Maki - Ok this is where I really question some of your tastes. So she had one of the PEAK arcs in all of the manga, went to hell and back and served us in every shape and form and this is what she gets. Losing to Naoya. Telling you lot to sort your misogyny out for the next poll because if she doesn’t reach top 3 Istg

Sukuna - Right, he’s a bit of a guilty pleasure as he is one of the funniest characters in this series after Kenny and Todo. Am suprised that he didn’t hit top 10 but he’s been binding his time to skyrocket to the big numbers especially in the recent chapters.

Todo - AYYYYYYY. Kyoto student found in the wild quick catch them before they get into the sea of irrelevancy. Ok that was too harsh but I’m proud of the Todo fans for getting him up there. He truly is the homie of the jjk world hopefully he keeps his placement because he’s too cool to not be on this list.

Utahime - OMG OMG OMG OMG. This was very unexpected. I thought Shoko would be here (she’s 24th) but I am grateful for it. The voice at the back of my head is trying to say that it’s cause of the shipping but I am ignoring it to focus on my girl entirely. Congrats everyone. If she manages to get in the top 15 again, do you think Gege will add more to her character. Nah he’ll probably just put her on the hit list which is not what we want to see here.

Yeah I think the poll overall was alright and obviously was for fun but after the placement of certain characters you know I’m side-eyeing you lot.

Characters I want/hope to reach the list : Yuki,Riko, Kirara, Hakari, Higuruma, Angel/Hana, Kenjaku, Uruame

[bllsbailey]

Do the Democrat Elites WANT Kamala to Lose?

It sounds crazy, and perhaps it is. But there is a lot of suspicion that Democrats are either throwing in the towel on the presidential race or that members of their elite are so unenthusiastic that they want her to lose. 

There could be many reasons why that might be so, and many more why that seems crazy to me. But I am not a mind-reader, so all I can do is look at the facts as they present themselves and then try to figure out what is going on. 

— Benny Johnson (@bennyjohnson) October 14, 2024

The case for Joe Biden wanting Kamala to lose is most compelling. Harris, after all, helped push him out of the campaign, sidelined him, and made him look like a weak fool. It was obvious that Biden didn't want to budge--he said so often and loudly enough--and it was similarly obvious that he resented being pushed out. 

Many people speculated at the time that Biden's endorsement of Harris hours after the obviously written-for-him letter bowing out of the race was a big screw-you to the Democratic Party. Harris was thought to be a terrible candidate without a chance of winning, and Biden put our his endorsement separate from the statement pulling out of the race, and was likely not filtered by an establishment which had been pushing for an open process. 

Part of the deal in getting Biden out of the race was that there would be no criticism of Biden--at all--and that he would be presented as a George Washington figure putting country above ambition. And Biden is enforcing the deal--every time anybody mentions Harris separating herself from Biden, out he pops with a bear hug to draw her back in. And when he is unhappy with her he goes further--dons a MAGA hat or steps on her messaging. 

Rumors have swirled for years that Jill Biden hates Harris, and they are credible. Kamala attacked Joe as a racist in 2019, and Jill never forgave that slur. 

As for Obama, the case is a bit harder. During the switcheroo, it was obvious that Barack Obama thought Harris was a horrible choice, and he was among the last to give his blessing to her coronation. Obama is smart and politically savvy, and he views Harris with well-deserved contempt. She is a vapid product of a pathetically uncompetitive California Democratic Party, and despite being portrayed as a female Obama, Harris is almost the opposite. She is female but doesn't have the political skills that Barack Obama has in his toenails. 

Obama has been sent out on a mission to save Harris' campaign, at least with the black men who have been leaving her corner at an increasing pace. A good soldier (or general), he has accepted the mission but so far has done more to hurt her campaign than help. He has insulted black men as misogynists, and that didn't go over well at all. 

Did Barack Obama blurt this out to hurt Harris? I doubt it. As pleasant as it would be to think that Barack Obama was stabbing Kamala Harris in the back, I suspect that this anti-persuasive speech was an artifact of Obama spending all his time around the Democratic elite who believe that misogyny drives all opposition to Harris in the black community. They think in terms of identity and only identity, so they assume that the only reason black men wouldn't vote for Kamala is her gender. 

Obama loves power, and Kamala Harris is even more brain-dead than Joe Biden. Her being in office would extend his reign for another four years. He has deeply infiltrated the Biden administration (look at the ranks of administration officials), and his people are running Kamala's campaign in an uneasy alliance with Kamala's team. 

I think this was pure elitist arrogance, not sabotage. Obama has always aspired to be at the top of the elite and achieved that goal in 2004 when he burst onto the scene at the DNC. He has never looked back. 

Bill Clinton's gaffe (?) is the most mysterious. Biden hates Harris, Obama is now in an elite bubble and can't understand ordinary black men, but what is Clinton going on about? He basically blamed Kamala Harris for Laken Riley's death and called for the Great Replacement to become a reality. 

Did he think this would help Harris? Did he drop this to harm her? 

Beats me. It was so bizarre that there was no rational explanation for what he said. It was all true, at least according to Clinton's point of view. The elite really does want to replace us all with poorer and more pliant citizens who can be counted on to do what they are told for a low, low price of minimum wage jobs. But you don't say that ALOUD if you want to win back white working-class men, and that is the demographic Clinton is trying to reach. Supposedly. 

I wish I had a good explanation for why Clinton said this. The Clintons came out in favor of Harris early, so it seems ridiculous to think that they want Harris to lose. By 2028, they will be too old to be relevant, so hoping for a fresher face in 2028 makes little sense. Even in an era where 82-year-olds can have political power still (look at Biden and Trump!), it beggars the imagination to think that Clinton is banking on more influence starting in 2029. 

Was it a Kinsley Gaffe--accidentally saying out loud what you really think? I suspect so. Bill had a brain fart, and the hot gas that came out was his version of the truth. Perhaps he thought that was persuasive to people? He did try to blame Trump for the failure to vet Riley's killer, but that is a stretch beyond belief. 

The Clintons, like the Obamas, do hang out with the Davos crowd. So perhaps he believes that this offensive drivel is persuasive. But the whole point of dragging the 78-year-old Clinton onto the campaign trail is that he understands white working-class people, right? 

I doubt the Democrat establishment wants Harris to lose. They may expect it now, but with a billion dollars invested, control over trillions of dollars in the federal budget, and the regulatory state apparatus at stake, they want the presidency. Biden might smile at a Harris loss, but nobody else at the top. 

Except Whitmer, Newsom, Shapiro, and a whole lot of other contenders for 2028. 

[rinhaler]

Smell Some Perfume, Head In The Wind

CHAPTER SUMMARY: it's a party from hell at your parents manor and each guest is worse than the last!

boyfriend!yuuji itadori x f!reader x bully!megumi fushiguro

WARNINGS : 18+, (kinda) panic attack, cocaine use, familial issues, handjob, misogyny, dry humping (a little??). 

WORDS : 6.3k

notes : still in awe that y'all like this pre edits btw... the difference a few years of writing makes 😅

       LAST CHAPTER ┊ MASTERLIST ┊ NEXT CHAPTER

Scouring your mind for any possibility that you were still in your drug induced sleep was fruitless. This isn’t a nightmare. It's real. Megumi is really here, and he is standing in front of your parents’ house. You hear footsteps approach from behind and your breathing becomes shallow, suffocating under the pressure of the presences all around you. What you did in a past life to deserve this, you’ll never know. But Yuuji remains strong, and you love him for that. When you can't show strength for yourself, he’ll double his efforts. He holds his arm around you as he stares Megumi down. His gaze isn’t asking him to move, it's demanding. But Megumi will do no such thing. He’s snorted a line, he’s at a beautiful house, and it’s a gorgeous sunny day.

This weekend will be fun.

You’re as still as a model in a painting, or even one of Megumi’s drawings. Your begin to well with tears and you can hear voices from every direction. Your mother and father behind you, Yuuji by your side and Megumi in front. You can't understand what any of them are saying as your ears ring. You’re making a choice to not exist, to not perceive what is happening around you. There’s a boom in your ears which you can only assume is Yuuji yelling at Megumi.

Your mother is tugging at your arm.

What does she want?

You’re breathing heavily, your body doesn’t move, but your eyes move slowly to their respected corners so you they can find your mother’s.

“Make him stop!” you read on her lips.

Your head moves as you look at Yuuji, he doesn’t want to let go of you, but you can see he’s becoming more antsy and agitated. He isn’t doing anything wrong, you think, as you process your mother’s words. Is she just embarrassed because his volume is raised past an acceptable level?

“Don’t make me beat the shit out of you in front of all of these people Fushiguro, get the fuck out of our way!” Yuuji bellows, all Megumi offers in return is a sarcastic laugh. He’s cocky, Yuuji is an athlete and way stronger than Megumi, and yet he’s acting like Yuuji wouldn’t stand a chance in hurting him.

Your father grabs your shoulders, Yuuji doesn’t react since he’s so engaged in his heated conversation with Megumi. “You’re breaking your mother’s heart! Don’t go, look at her!” he tells you, your vision snaps to see her again. She looks like she’s fighting back tears. But she’s manipulative, she's trying to control you.

“I even bought you a new dress to wear darling, please don’t go. Please make him stop yelling!” she tells you, her voice cracks and a single tear spills from her eye. She’s serious, she’s actually this frantic and upset over what is unfolding in front of her.

You blink repeatedly, fluttering your lashes until the tears leave your eyes. Although there are a few droplets laced in your mascara coated eyelashes. It’s hard to speak. Your mouth is as dry as a desert and you feel as though glass has been poured down your throat. Your pathetic whispers of ‘Yuuji… Yuuji…’ fall on deaf ears. Of course he won’t hear your feeble voice when he is practically roaring at Megumi.

“Enough!” you manage to croak out, just loud enough to get his attention. He looks at you, his eyes are glassy as if he wants to cry. It’s been tough enough for you, but it must be hell for him too. All of this. Having to see someone you love and worship go through the hardest time of their life. “We have to stay.” you sigh. He shakes his head, he can’t. He can’t let you put yourself through more torment with his piece of shit former friend.

“Maybe… you should just stay love. Yuuji can go if he wants.” your mother speaks, and Yuuji scoffs, rolling his eyes. Of course your parents would want him out of their hair. He doesn’t fit in and they don’t approve of your relationship. But you love him. You love him and you come as a package, that is something they need to understand.

“Yuuji isn’t going anywhere. If you want me to stay he’s staying too, or I’ll walk right out of that door.” you tell them. Whatever dryness was in your mouth had been forgotten. You’ve lost your confidence, you’ve lost your nerve and feel terror and shame whenever you try to defend yourself. But you’ll be damned if anyone is going to insult your boyfriend, whether it’s a backhanded insult or not, you won’t stand for it. “Where’s the dress?” you ask your mother. In your new bedroom, of course. She tells you there’s a letter wedged in the door with your name on it, that’s how you’ll find your room in this colossal manor house.

You take your boyfriend’s hand, ignoring everyone around you both. You’re sorry to him, sorry for him, but this weekend is something you need to do. You said it before you left and you’re saying it now: you are not going to let Megumi Fushiguro dictate your life for a second longer.

You’ve been sitting on the edge of your bed for a few minutes, reading and re-reading the letter over and over again. Yuuji is pacing the room, he’s pissed at you. Like, really pissed, but he isn’t taking his anger out on you. He unbuttons his shirt a little and opens the windows as far as they can go. He knows it isn’t that easy, but he was hoping the cool breeze would help calm him down.

To My Darling Daughter,

I knew you’d arrive to the party in something less than desirable. I took the liberty of buying you a new dress. Don’t worry, I know what style and colours you like. At least, I hope you still like pink. Anyway, it’s Versace, and I’m sure you’ll never tire of wearing designer labels. Enjoy love. Mother x

Your hands are shaking while you hold the letter and the envelope in each hand. That damn pink seal with your family crest makes your heart wrench. It makes you sick, truly, because it reminds you of what a weak person you are. A person who never stands up to her family or can tell them what she really thinks of them. You hate them. You do. You really hate them. You despise how pompous they are, you hate how they treat you like you’re their puppet and you loathe how they treat Yuuji.

But then you look at the garment cover harbouring your beautiful new Versace dress. It’s a beautiful pastel pink colour. It has spaghetti style straps and a large slit down the left leg, tied at the top with two pink string bows. The bustier is micro-pleated, and the iconic Medusa logo features in a small gold circle just above the sternum. God, you hate your parents. You’re furious at your mother for how she suggested Yuuji should leave while you stay. But you’re looking at that dress, that exquisite dress, and you can’t help but feel in a forgiving mood.

You look to Yuuji who is sucking in air from the open window into his lungs. This is no good, you need him to calm himself down. You approach him and rub between his shoulder blades, whispering ‘I love you’ ever so softly.

“Tch.” he mutters. You grab his hand and guide him to the edge of the bed. You didn’t fail to notice the adorable little mini fridge in the corner of your new room. And, of course, it’s fully stocked. You pick up a small bottle of water and throw it to your boyfriend, which he skilfully catches. “I can’t believe you want to stay even though that fuckin’ asshole is here.” he hisses as he cracks open the bottle.

“But you’re here, and that’s all that matters Yuuji.” you tell him as you remove your blazer and your shirt quickly. You hurriedly remove your heels and begin unbuttoning your trousers. “Besides, it’s easier to just get along with my parents. I don’t want to give them any more reasons to talk shit, I’m sick of them looking down their noses at us.” you tell him as you unhook your bra, throwing it across the room carelessly as you approach your new dress.

“What are you- Why aren’t you-?” Yuuji stutters. You turn to face him as you aren’t quite sure what he’s mumbling about. But when his gaze, not very discretely, alternates between your eyes and your exposed breasts, you know instantly.

“You can’t wear a bra with this type of dress, baby.” you explain. He nods in understanding, his eye twitches and he takes a hearty swig at the bottle of water. It’s more than a swig, he ends up drinking the entire contents of the bottle. He’s flustered, you’ve got him all worked up over a pair of tits. And now, you have an even better idea of how to calm him down.

You don’t get dressed, instead, you straddle Yuuji and begin kissing him softly. You’re both smiling and laughing between kisses. He tells you that you shouldn’t be doing this, but you don’t care. You’re unfastening the remaining buttons on his shirt slowly and pull it off him with ease. You pull away from him so you can admire his perfect body. What a lucky girl you are, he’s an athlete through and through with a scrumptious physique to match.

“Princess, we need to stop before… Before we get carried away—” he tells you, but his actions don’t match. He’s kissing your neck while groping your breasts. You hum and giggle at the touch and begin pulling down his trousers, wouldn’t want them getting ruined after all. He stops you and lifts you down beside him so he can remove his shoes and socks. You waste no time pulling out his cock while he undresses completely. You’re sitting beside each other as you jerk him off, he tries to wiggle his fingers inside of your panties, but you don’t let him.

“Just wanna play with you Yuuji, wanna make you feel better.” you whisper, kissing his shoulder gently. You’re stroking him lazily, his hips raise and buck off the bed. “You’re so tense baby, aren’t you?” you ask him, eyes glistening and lips salivating at the way a pool of precum forms at his pretty pink tip, you want to taste it so badly.

“So tense,” he sighs, “so fuckin’ tense.”

“’m sorry, wanna make you feel better. Does it feel good?” you ask him.

“Y-Yeah, fuck. Can you uh, squeeze a little tighter? And go faster, p-please—” he falters as you’re already doing as he asked before he finishes speaking. He lets his head fall back as you work his cock quicker. He looks to you, hazel eyes looking at you like you put all of the planets in the solar system.

“Like that baby?” you ask him. He nods. A large palm finds itself laced in your hair, he brings his face closer to yours. A crashing kiss lands on your lips, it’s heated and erotic, he’s panting and humming through your ministrations.

“Just like that princess, fuck. Such a good girl,” he kisses you again and you can’t get enough of him, it’s like he’s stealing all of the air out of your lungs. “So perfect, so fuckin’ perfect baby. I love you, I love you.” he moans, delectable masculine moans leaving his lips and tumbling directly down your throat and to your chest. No. Directly to your heart, you’re sure the sounds of him coming undone for you are adding extra years to your life.

“I love you Yuuji, please cum f’me. Need it s’bad. Need you to feel better…” you mewl, there’s a wetness growing between your thighs that you’re struggling to ignore. But you have to and you will, for him.

“Y’want me to cum so soon?” he huffs, beginning to let himself go completely to your touch.

You do.

You really do.

“Just want you to feel good baby, please cum. Cum for me!” you command before engulfing him in a showstopping kiss yet again. He breaks it as his moans become more broken and needy.

“Ah, ah fuck—!” he whines as he cums. He forcefully shoves your mouth against his again while his seed spills out.

You’re meant to keep your eyes closed as you kiss someone you love. But while you’re swallowing the beautiful sounds he’s making you can’t help but allow your eyes to wander to his cock. Thick, creamy, white cum is pumping out of him furiously. This has been the longest you’ve gone without pleasuring each other since you began dating, although he fingered you in the car outside before you entered your parents home. It's been days for either of you, so the touches were welcome. You felt like a pair of teenagers stealing intimate moments to please each other.

“Jesus Christ, look what you made me do.” Yuuji smirks as he looks down at his body and your hand completely coated in semen. “Sit on my face baby I need to taste—”

“Sorry Yuuji, no time. Get cleaned up I’m gonna get ready.” you instruct as you head towards the en-suite bathroom to quickly wash your hands.

He steps in the shower so he can clear away any evidence of your little indiscretion. You should get dressed, but instead, you find yourself playing with your hair the whole time Yuji is showering. Should you change it? He steps out and chuckles when he finds you still practically naked. He looks at you, one hand holding his towel around his waist. His eyebrow quirks, he’s looking as if to say ‘I thought we didn’t have time’. But you hurry to your feet and unzip the garment cover and reveal your dress in all of its glory, pulling it out and holding it against your body for your boyfriend to see.

“Help me put it on?” you ask, smiling so sweetly. How could he say no?

He pulls it over you, pulling it downwards and smoothing out any areas it bunches together. He wraps his arms around your waist and kisses your neck sensually, one, two, three times before finding your eyes again in the full-length mirror you’re both standing in front of.

“You’re perfect princess, fits like a glove.”

Everything seems perfect for a brief moment. You were happy. Really happy for the first time since you met Megumi. Yuuji holds your hand as you descend the stairs, and you were gifted with his constant reassurance that he’ll be here for you.

You're giggling and stealing kisses the whole way to the garden.

Though your stomach sinks.

You almost forgot that you had to endure this hellish weekend with your family and school bully. When you step outside, you see a table that you know you're expected to sit at.

Guests are all seated on circular and beautifully decorated tables, all of which house seven seats each. You aren’t sure why you're surprised, your luck has been in the gutter lately, but your mother is waving you over to your table. There are three seats available, enough for you and Yuuji to join and one seat that would remain empty. Your mother would probably use it to place her belongings instead of placing them on the table.

“It’s not too late to leave.” Yuuji smiles. You smile back and take his hand, shaking your head at the proposal.

You’re closer to the table now, and the faces you had seen in the distance have been dangerously solidified in reality. Your mother and father sit side by side, understandably, and then there are two seats free for yourself and Yuuji next to your dad. Toji sits next to the second free seat, and Megumi is by his side. The third free seat is situated between your mother and Megumi.

Yuuji pulls the seat out next to your father for you to sit in, but you misinterpret his action thinking he is doing it for himself. So, you take the chair next to Toji without hesitation.

Yuuji looks at you with a worried expression plastered across his face, you’re too close to Megumi. But when you look up at him, he’s amazed. He thinks you’re incredible. So fucking brave and so unfazed by the whole thing. You are, however, but you’re trying not to let it show.

“You two took your time.” Toji teases, his eyes move to the side to look at your reaction with a smirk on his face. Is he trying to get you in trouble?

The insinuating tone is read by everyone at the table, you feel your face warm up and Yuuji turned red. Your father looks furious and your mother’s eyes have widened. Megumi is smirking, just like his father. The family resemblance really is uncanny.

“Never mind, she’s here now.” your mother speaks. You grit your teeth and bite your tongue, her failure to include Yuuji not going unnoticed by you. “It’s been a while since we’ve seen you Megumi, do you remember us? Probably not, are you studying anything at the moment?” your mother speaks confidently. She notices your change in demeanour, quickly stuttering out any words she could to swiftly change the subject.

“Actually, your lovely daughter and I are in the same class.” Megumi speaks with perfect poise, he has far too much courage to say such a bold comment about you in front of Yuuji.

Your mother looks between you both with a big smile on her face and her palms pressed together excitably. She begins asking questions about your studies and your relationship, you catch a vein bulging in Yuuji’s forehead when she asks if you are ‘friends’.

Before you could argue such a preposterous claim, Megumi answers her calmly. “Well Yuuji and I are childhood friends, so I was bound to get along with his wonderful girlfriend.” he explains, “We even share a cubicle in class now, don’t we?” he smirks, resting his elbows on the table and interlocking his fingers. Yuuji grits his teeth, and despite you gently squeezing his thigh, it isn’t enough to relax him.

“Don’t lie to these people Fushiguro,” Yuuji speaks as quietly as he can, trying to prevent himself from losing his temper, “I’m not your fucking friend and neither is she.” he announces, you grimace at his language and Megumi rolls his eyes at the response.

“The fuck did you do Megumi? He’s meant to be your best friend.” Toji questions as he swigs the remaining champagne in his glass. “Did you try and fuck his girl? Huh, shithead?” Toji wonders aloud. Megumi scoffs out a laugh while your father chokes on his own drink and your mother suddenly found the lush green grass way more interesting than the current conversation.

“You’re mistaken Toji, our daughter isn’t loose like that. She’s waiting until marriage.” your father announces.

Yuuji’s face is bright red and your heart is racing.

This really is the party from hell.

There is an uncomfortable silence then, whether it was because no one knows what to say or because most people know it's a lie. You and Yuuji want the ground to swallow you both whole.

You are saved by the wait staff coming to your table with more drinks, overpriced champagne, of course. Your father watches as they place drinks in front of yourself and Yuuji, but you raise your hand in protest.

“Could I just have a water, please?” you request, the waiter nods and turns on their heel to fetch you your drink.

“Don’tcha drink?” Toji wonders, sipping at his fresh champagne yet again.

Your vision alternates between the two pairs of emerald green eyes sitting to the left of you. Yuuji’s blood is boiling as he remembers exactly why you aren’t drinking. He's staring daggers at the bully across from him.

He wants to rip his throat out.

Yuuji seconds your notion of only drinking water; he thought he better stay sharp in case Megumi tries anything while you’re all stuck together for the weekend. Toji deems you both boring, but you don’t care.

“I had a bad incident with drinking recently,” you speak as you tilt your head so Megumi’s eyes would directly catch yours, “taking a little break from it all.”

“You always take things too far, don’t you? Or are you just over exaggerating a bad hangover?” your father asks you. You can practically hear the thump of your mother kicking his leg under the table, livid that he would air a private family matter in front of their guests.

“Actually sir, that piece of shit—” Yuuji barks as he points at Megumi.

“Yuuji, don’t.” you look at him with pleading eyes. He instantly shuts his mouth and slouches back in his seat.

Toji leans over to Megumi and begins whispering to him. Doesn’t he know it’s rude to whisper? But even with just these few brief moments you’ve shared with him, he doesn’t strike you as the type to care about manners or etiquette; so you aren’t entirely surprised at his lack of grace.

Just when you think things couldn’t get worse.

When you believe there couldn’t possibly be anything to make the situation anymore uncomfortable, you heard a chilling, flamboyant voice in the distance.

You don’t turn to see who has just walked into the garden. You could hear him from a mile away. Your elbow rests on the table and you slump your forehead into your hand. You heard a mutter of ‘oh for fuck sake’ from Yuuji as he reaches for his glass of water.

But now water wasn’t going to cut it.

The champagne he'd abandoned soon finds comfort in his fingers as he downs the liquid like a shot. If your stomach wasn’t so raw from the drug Megumi spiked you with, you’d be following suit. The volume of the voice gets louder, and louder, and louder.

Until finally—

“A pleasure to see you all again,” Naoya smiles as he takes your mothers hand in his. He plants a soft chaste kiss on her knuckles, it's embarrassing how much she giggles and blushes at the gesture. He shakes your father’s hand in a firm handshake, and he's smiling, too.

He completely ignores Yuuji, which makes your parents smirk like bitchy high schoolers.

He takes your hand without you giving it, repeating what he had just done to your mother. Although, it lasts a lot longer and is a more uncomfortable gesture.

You snatch your hand away and sit upright to face him.

“Hello Naoya.” you huff.

He says simple greetings to the Fushiguro’s who nod wordlessly.

Toji leans over to you, his head turned away from the table so that no one could read his lips as he spoke quietly to you.

“I fuckin’ hate this little prick,”

Before he could continue, your mother offers him the final remaining seat. He's about to refuse, claiming his father is at a different table, but when he sees how uncomfortable you are and how furious Yuuji looks – who was he to decline?

“When was the last time you two boys saw each other, hm?” your father questions. You almost choke on your drink at his words. Megumi and Naoya know each other?

Birds of a feather, you suppose, and they are both toxic and evil to the core.

“We haven’t seen each other since Megumi and his sister moved away, I believe.” Naoya answers. Megumi doesn’t respond, letting Naoya take over the conversation for him.

He's too busy staring at you.

How did you know Naoya?

“But it’s been a while since I’ve been able to attend one of your family parties and stay longer than a few minutes.” he adds as he crosses a leg over his knee.

“Yes, well, some might say it’s odd for an ex-boyfriend to hang around my family.” you smile widely, but everyone can see it's as fake as they come.

Toji coughs a little at the revelation, smacking his palm on his large chest to clear his airways. Megumi sniggers as he takes a drink.

“I do wish you both could have worked it out,” your mother claims, “you were a beautiful couple and so sophisticated. It made perfect sense for you to be together.” she continues, your father nods in agreement.

“You’ve made a strong name for yourself and the Zen’in clan, a match made in heaven.” your father concurred.

“Why don’t you both try it again?” your mother suggests, as if your boyfriend isn’t sitting right next to you. “You were certainly my favourite of my daughter’s boyfriends.” she adds.

Yuuji is shaking with frustration, but you know it's just covering how upset he is.

It’s horrible to have to hear something so nasty, vile and cruel and not be able to do anything about it. Normally you wouldn’t do anything either and just make it up to him later. But after everything you’ve been through, enough is enough.

“Interesting idea mother, however, I’ve made my choice and I’m happy with my partner and I suggest the pair of you get used to it.” you answer her foolish proposal, “Besides, Yuuji is way better at eating pussy.” you boldly announce in front of everyone.

Naoya’s face drops in horror. Megumi shot champagne out of his nose and Toji laughs raucously by your ear. Yuuji was practically boiling to the touch and as red as a tomato, even his ears were a rosy, red colour at the tips.

“Oh my God—”

“Jesus Christ, what’s wrong with you?”

That is all your mother and father have to say in response. You don’t care, you're smiling.

It feels incredible to make your parents so furious with you and not be able to do anything so they could save face in front of their guests. The only people who had heard your vulgar comment are the people seated at the table.

You are so smug, so fucking proud of yourself.

Even Yuuji is smiling.

He never thought in a million years you’d stand up to your parents like that. You disregard your parent's outrage, and angle your body to be facing the other guests with a cheery smile on your face.

“So how do you three know each other?” you wonder.

“We’re cousins.” Toji spits as his thumb gestures Naoya.

Wow.

Maybe the whole family is just rotten at the roots.

“The Zen’in clan are a powerful family that you would have been honoured to marry into, daughter, but you are going through a rebellious phase I see.” your father gripes. He's staring you down, but when your eyes find his he quickly looked away.

Pathetic, you think.

“We aren’t Zen’in’s we’re Fushiguro’s.” Toji corrects, but your father shrugs his shoulders dismissing the statement.

“Same thing, same bloodline.” your father states as he begins lighting a cigar in his mouth.

“No, not the sa—”

“Toji is right,” Naoya interrupts his cousin, “those two scummy pissants certainly aren’t worthy to carry the Zen’in name so it’s a good thing Toji took his wife’s name instead.” Naoya berates.

Toji and his son both grit their teeth, both clearly furious at the mention of their worth and Toji’s wife. Naoya is snearing, clearly proud of himself for being an enormous prick and upsetting his family.

His eyes wander, and eventually, they settle on—

“And you.” he says as he points in your direction. Everyone is suddenly focused on you and what he's about to say. “You’d never be good enough for me, women are to be seen and not heard. I need a subservient little housewife, not a dressed-up tart thinking she’s something special. You’re not even good enough to lick my boots.” he monologues.

You snicker, Yuuji obviously wants to flatten him for daring to speak to you like that, but he turns to you in shock as you rest a hand on his shoulder and begin to laugh.

“I’m sorry, what fucking century do you think this is?” you chortle, you rise from your seat and gesture to the door. Yuuji immediately understands that you want to leave, so he grabs your hand once again and guides you towards the house. 

Your mother protests, "where are you going!?" she cries, you didn’t care. You’d be coming back later.

But for now, you want some space.

You heard Naoya mutter something about you being a harlot under his breath, so you stop.

You slowly walk back towards the table and approach Naoya’s side.

He can’t help but ogle your thigh where your pretty pink dress slits down the side. He tries his best to ignore it, but it's obvious he's enjoying the view of your supple flesh.

Perhaps he misses your soft pillowy thighs. You rest a hand on his shoulder as you lean over him to grab his glass of champagne. He begins to squirm as your breasts are dangerously close to his chest, and he can smell your sweet, sweet perfume.

Fuck, he did miss you.

He really misses you.

He’s never met a woman like you since you broke up. That smell, he’s missed your fucking scent. You stand up straight with the glass still in your hand. Everybody thinks you're going to drink it, but instead, you pour the liquid out all over Naoya’s head.

“Oops.” you pout over dramatically. “Wonderful seeing you again Naoya. I’m off to go and be a harlot with my beautiful boyfriend over there.” you whisper into his ear and point in Yuuji’s direction.

Your mother and father start to chastise you, but before their words can do any damage, you run to your boyfriends side and take his hand.

The pair of you sprint out of the manor hand in hand towards his car.

He hikes your dress up before picking you up and settling you on the hood of his car. You're kissing each other so lovingly and messily that you aren’t sure you’d be able to break it without fucking in the middle of your parents driveway.

“I love you, fuck I love you I love you I love you.” Yuuji hums between kisses. He gropes your breasts and kisses your neck. He has to stop, he knows he has to stop and yet he couldn’t keep himself from touching you, worshiping you.

“I love you, I love you Yuuji! We need to go. Yuuji, come on we need to go.” you moan back. With one last hard, devastating kiss he pulls away and helps you down. You jog to your respected sides of the car and strap in quickly so he could get the pair of you away from this place, if only for a few hours.

Meanwhile, as you and Yuuji had been practically dry-humping on top of his car, Naoya was seething with rage in the garden. Your parents couldn’t apologise enough. He didn’t want to hear it. After all, they are the ones who raised you. And what had they raised you to become? A vile, insolent, slut. He stood to his feet, dismissing his father when he asked what had happened whilst retreating indoors. He didn’t know he was being followed. He didn’t realise until his shoulder was grabbed and he was being pinned against the nearest wall just as he reached the second floor of the manor. It was Megumi.

“It seems we both have a mutual hatred of the princess.” Megumi admits, staring his uncle dead in the eyes. “Let’s say we have some fun with her this weekend.”

“Tch. I think not. I have my own plan formulating for that abhorrent little bitch. Leave me alone, peasant.” Naoya snarls as he turns away from Megumi once more. The latter shrugs his shoulder and prepares to leave, but he gets another idea instead.

“Naoya.” he calls.

“What—?” he’s greeted with a punch in the face from his nephew, directly into his eye. Megumi is sure it’s bound to bruise. He isn’t done. While Naoya is recoiling in pain, Megumi grabs onto his shoulder and forces his knee up into his uncle’s abdomen. Naoya collapses to the ground and is coughs up blood. He growls when Megumi lords over him, leaning down to patronise him in this frail pathetic state.

“A friendly reminder to keep my mother’s name out of that pretentious mouth of yours. I won’t be so lenient if it happens again.” Megumi tells him in hushed tones, shoving his hands into his pockets as he walks to return to the party and his father’s side.

It can’t be a good thing that you’ve made two enemies from the same putrid bloodline.

But that isn’t on your mind.

You're eyeballed and gawked at as you and Yuuji walk into the nearest fast food place in your expensive clothes. Yuuji is in his smart shirt and dress-pants and you were in a two-thousand dollar Versace gown while you walk into Burger King as casual as ever.

You feel like celebrities with the way everyone stares.

You don’t care, you just order food, a lot of it.

You haven't eaten since you arrived at your parents and all you’ve been drinking is dainty sips of water.

You're starving, so you don’t want to think how hungry Yuuji would be since he has the appetite of a horse. You give the cashier your card, courtesy of the bank of dad, and salivate as you think about your enormous meal.

He sits in a booth and pulls you onto his lap while you wait for your order. One hand rests in the small of your back while another remains on your thigh. Kisses are stolen while you giggle and joke about how God awful your parents party had been.

He begs you to just go home, but he's forgetting you left your luggage in your bedroom. It’s only one night anyway, you’ll be able to leave in the morning and you won’t have to see them again for a few months at least.

You still feel eyes on you in the restaurant, but now you aren’t sure if it's because you're both so overdressed or because you are being so overly affectionate with each other.

Again, you didn’t care.

Yuuji can’t tell you enough how much he fucking adores you. He's so proud of you for sticking up for yourself, and even happier that you defended him in front of your horrific parents. His sweet, soft words were rushing straight to your core and you could just jump him right then and there.

When your number is called out, you and Yuuji end up with four huge bags to hold. You each held one in your hands and walk quickly out of the restaurant and back to the car.

You open a bag before Yuuji found somewhere to park. It has large fries inside so you alternate between feeding yourself and putting some in Yuuji’s mouth while he drives.

You know where you can go, so you do your best to direct your boyfriend. There’s an enormous, brick monument between your parents manor and the city that lives on top of a tall hill. But behind the monument there is a country park and endless fields.

You don’t need to mention that Naoya used to bring you here to finger you in the backseat, you’ve had a lot of other memories with friends here too, after all.

He parks up turns the radio up a little louder. It’s crazy that between entering and leaving Burger King the sky had started as a bright blue and become pink and orange.

It’ll be black soon.

You slurp your milkshake and shovel down your fries while Yuuji takes a chomp out of his burger. The ketchup squirted out and dribbled embarrassingly down his lovely clean shirt.

“Oh shit!” you speak, covering your mouth and giggling while you still have crushed up fries in your mouth.

Yuuji looks between his shirt, the burger, and your dress. He couldn’t and wouldn’t let the same thing happen to you. He picks up all of his food and dumps it on the hood of his car. He picks up your food and did the same, telling you to get out of the vehicle. You stand awkwardly on the grass, your heels sink into the ground so you opt to take them off and throw them back into the car.

Yuuji retrieves his fresh gym clothes from the trunk of his car. A baggy grey t-shirt and ultramarine blue shorts. He pulled your dress up from the bottom and over your head. You gasp and cover your breasts as the cold night air pinches at you.

Your panic soon leaves your body as Yuuji began kissing your neck down to your collarbone before helping you into his shirt.

“Always so beautiful princess, doesn’t matter what you wear.” he whispers. Next, you were climbing into his shorts. It feels a little uncomfortable to be in boy’s clothes you aren’t used to and they don’t fit quite right, but you’re grateful for the gesture anyway.

He folds your expensive dress delicately, placing it carefully in the backseat. He helps lift you onto the hood of the car, and your stomach sinks as the car bounces when he climbs up to join you. You spend the night eating as much food as you can handle.

You wait for the blushing pink sky to plummet into purple. and eagerly anticipate the arrival of the stars. As dreadful as the weekend has been, you’re thankful you at least had Yuuji by your side.

Maybe you don’t need anyone else in your life.

He really is the perfect boyfriend.

© 2021 fuwushiguro | © 2024 rinhaler

[shotorozu]

encountering a ‘pick me’ girl

character(s) : kirishima eijirou, todoroki shouto, bakugou katsuki (bnha)

warning : PICK ME GIRL, misogyny (?) pick me girl makes an off handed comment about your body but it’s not detailed at all

PART TWO — PART THREE

legend : [Y/N = your name] afab! reader, but they/them pronouns used, quirk not mentioned

headcanon type : fluff, angst if you squint

note(s) : i made 2 versions of this post so,, if you’re reading this— then i probably decided that i liked this one more than the other one i made,, anyways, i used real life examples 💀

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kirishima eijirou

i’d imagine that eijirou would have an idea of what a pick me girl is— i mean, there were probably 2 of those girls in middle school

but has he experienced it first hand? nahh.

though, eijirou didn’t think he’d encounter one when he was already in a healthy and committed relationship!

eijirou is practically friends with everyone— and yeah, even the most unexpected. so, he’s bound to accidentally befriend a pick me girl

him, being the nicest one out of all of the characters in this list, will still be nice to said pick me girl, despite wanting to snob them to the core

because really— you can’t really fight fire with fire in some cases

but, he can be everything but lenient when the pick me girl starts insulting you for doing certain things, and for absurd reasons too

like,, how you laugh, and how you take care of yourself (for example— if you wear makeup, or how you style your hair)

which is odd! everything about you is everything but the things the pick me girl has stated so.. he cannot stand by.

SCENARIO

the girl giggles to herself after that snide comment leaves her lip gloss coated lips. eijirou shifts uncomfortably— honestly taken aback by the anything but subtle insult that was thrown at you

“like.. seriously! it’s honestly quite superficial if you look at it like that. who the hell would put that much effort infront of your boyfriend? i’d assume they’d see everything AND everything but.. i guess not.”

you blink. superficial? now that’s a new one. the girl infront of you has been babbling insults sugarcoated in boasts the entire time, and you’re just wondering if it’s about time you guys leave but—

“well that’s unfair,” your boyfriend laughs, “i put the same amount of effort as this cutie right here,” eijirou pokes at your cheek, earning a quick laugh from you— which he can only thank the heavens for that

“but that’s different. it actually looks put together when you’re doing it, eiji.” the certain glint in her smile makes you want to wipe it right off with a dirty mop, “it’s impossible to look put together with expensive clothes, but being built like a—”

the sound of the sliding of a chair is quicker than your actions, and it easily cuts her off.

“i’m sorry, but we gotta go, it’s totally not cool of you to say those things about Y/N!”

“what? but i mean.. it’s true, right? i’m looking out for them! they’re literally out here l—”

“bye!” eijirou waves her goodbye with your hand, dismissing the sour expression on her face— as he dashes off with you

you’d question how he’s just so nice to people like that, but when he turns around, you could see the distaste in his eyes

“so that’s what a pick me girl’s like,” shaking his head, his expression lights up with such a quick manner “i’ll never make friends that are like that again!”

safe to say, eijirou’s friend list has been a a person shorter ever since that incident

bakugou katsuki

oh, so that girl’s bold bold.

if she thinks she could get away with being a not so subtle pick me girl infront of bakugou katsuki, then she couldn’t be more wrong.

it’s absolutely revolting— i mean, he hasn’t displayed any romantic feelings towards ANYONE that isn’t you.

also, they’re quite gutsy if you ask me. so congrats for having guts??

i don’t think he’d be friends with a pick me girl. he’s very selective of who he’s befriending, so it’s probably your friend that’s the pick me girl in this case

he wouldn’t know what a pick me girl would be, but he’d probably know the description of one.

over some time, he’d grow some resistance to insults directed at him, but when someone insults his s/o

oh boy. that’s not good. remember when i said that katsuki was almost like your scary and intimidating dog

this is what i mean

knows he can’t make a scene, so his first option is to be dismissive asf— but if said pick me girl literally can’t get it, he won’t be afraid of shoving some explosions into her face

because his hands are rated e for everyone

SCENARIO

“so you wanna be picked or something, is that it?” he hates how you literally have the resistance of a rock— which is something he always liked, but in this case hated. if it weren’t for you— he would’ve blasted explosions into her sorry excuse of a face until it’s beyond recognition (that wouldn’t be hero like, is what you’ve said in the past, but he disagrees.)

but seriously? ugh. he just wants to leave this horrid place, and make some dinner with you in the comfort of his home. why are you even friends with her anyway? she’s not even trying to be slick at this point.

“p-picked? i’m not understanding, katsu.”

“it’s bakugou.”

“right,” her laughter is like nails on chalkboard, “i’m just watching out for Y/N, y’know? there’s no point in wearing all of that.. on their face.” and she’s obviously referring to your obviously very well done makeup

“it’ll make your skin terrible in the long run! and really— i couldn’t really understand on why someone would wear that much, when you could survive with i dunno.. lip gloss at most?”

you would’ve actually said something as a rebuttal, but your boyfriend is quicker, and a lot more direct than anyone else in the area.

“just say you can’t do makeup and fucking scram,” katsuki’s ice cold glare finally breaks out of the act he’s been trying to hold together for you

“their makeup is fucking bomb as hell, compared to your ridiculous spider lashes, lady. come back when you’ve watched james charles’ entire fucking channel.” he harshly states in similar bakugou fashion, despite the lack of screaming.

and if you squinted hard enough, you could see tears welling up in her eyes. but katsuki tugs your hand before anything else could be said

“let’s fucking go, you need better friends.”

he makes you cut ties with all of them, and he practically scolds your terrible choice of friends— but he goes quiet when you tell him that you’ve been friends with her since middle school

“good fucking riddance. next time, i’ll punch them as soon as they say something outta line, got that?” and next time (hopefully, there won’t be a next time) you’ll actually lash out— or maybe,, you’ll let him loose for once.

todoroki shouto

now shouto might be,, socially unaware sometimes. but he can tell whenever someone’s trying to insult his s/o

like,, right away.

now— you both run into this person after a pleasant date, and she eagerly presented herself as your friend

so, her attitude catches him off guard because who’d have anything rude to say about you and towards shouto’s face? especially when it’s about something normal.

like,, wasn’t she your friend?? why is she even like this?

his hostility is very well known, so they should be scared.

he gets detached from the conversation, and he’ll immediately go cold— and shouto would probably go as far as walking away with your hand in his

doesn’t matter if he properly says goodbye or not— if a girl’s being rude to his s/o, they obviously don’t deserve his usually polite attitude. nope, that’s a luxury.

oh— and what more when they’re seeking for his validation. newsflash! said pick me girl won’t be get any from him.

SCENARIO

shouto couldn’t stop the bitterness bleeding into his mouth, when the girl in front of him continued to babble and take up the valuable time he had left with his s/o

initially, she presented herself as your friend from middle school— but as of now? she seems to be more interested in him more than you, despite knowing you first.

she’d ask him a string of obvious questions with very obvious answers, like ‘is she treating you well?’ ‘is she acting correctly?’ and questions of the sort

“oh, sorry! i’d hate to cut this conversation short, but—” you finally decide that it was about time to leave, while shouto looks pretty,, deadpanned right now, you could tell that he was gradually starting to get irritated by your friend’s words.

“wait. thats.. kind of controlling, don’t you think? do you ever let shou make decisions?”

“uh.. controlling? since when??” you question at the accusation. this girl knows nothing about your relationship dynamic, and she’s already jumping the gun and making conclusions.

your gaze snaps back to shouto, who looks just as surprised as he could possibly be.

“yeah! it clearly looks like he still wants to talk” which is an obvious lie, shouto just wants it out of here “i wonder how you managed to snag such a guy like him,” she comments with a smile that looked anything above suspicion (yet, it makes your stomach churn)

you could see the way her hand gets gradually closer to him— and frankly, you’re not sure about what she was planning to do next, “you wouldn’t need to dress all expensive and fancy, if you’re with a girl with an already classy appear—”

“i think this conversation is over,” shouto grip is firm on the wrist that was attempting to grab his shoulder, shouto makes no attempt to even look at the girl infront of him “i don’t know what you’re trying to do, but it’s not humorous. at all.”

“what?” she stammers, drawing her hand back “i-it’s obvious they don’t know how to take a joke! this is why there are barely any good w—”

shouto’s next actions knocks her speechless, his hand rests at the small of your back, before gently guiding you forward— “love, what movie are we watching later?” he says, making an effort to press a quick, yet intense kiss on your lips

“oh,” you breathe out, surprised by this action. “don’t be so tense, love.” shouto comments on how tense your shoulders have looked, ever since she started running her mouth, “now.. what movie do you want to watch tonight? comedy? thriller?”

“you pick,” you laugh at the quick shift of topic. and when you look behind you, you could see shame and defeat welling up on her face. shouto finally feels like he could smile again, the bitterness dissipating from his mouth

after shouto questions you if that was what a pick me girl was, he makes sure that you guys won’t ever encounter such thing again

“you.. don’t have more friends like that, right? if you do— we could always do another friend list cleansing.” this statement makes you laugh but shouto is anything but joking

but being reminded of his reaction to that ‘pick me’ girl does puts a smile on your face.

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likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei, i only own the writing and i do not profit off of my hobby

do not plagiarize, reupload, translate, or use my works for audio readings without permission

[pleuvoire]

fundamentally i think the main difference between ryuki and pmmm (which borrowed Heavily from ryuki, for those new here) is a sense of agency. although both are about being stuck in a system designed to be a self-perpetuating cycle of combat that you can’t get out of, the characters of ryuki feel more like they are exercising their own will despite the complete lack of options they have, whereas the characters of pmmm are kind of borne helplessly on the tide of fate,

there are two main reasons i can pinpoint for this, the first is that both of them involve having a wish granted as the tradeoff for your fighting, but in pmmm, you get the wish granted as soon as you gain your powers, whereas in ryuki, you get your wish granted only once you’ve eliminated all the other kamen riders and are the last one standing. this means that the ryuki riders are constantly working towards something and are motivated to continue pursuing the path they’re on, even if it’s one they can’t leave. whereas in pmmm it’s a big thing of like whoops, you got your wish granted, the magic of it has worn off, now you’re trapped here and it turns out it sucks!! as a driving factor of the despair arc of the series,

which brings me to the second cause of the difference in agency which is how in pmmm none of the characters truly knew what they were signing up for, and this tragic reveal is a big part of the story. whereas in ryuki, well we never really see what kanzaki’s onboarding process looks like since our pov character is an outlier who stumbled into the fight, but all the characters made an active choice to be involved and none of them ever really complain about it so we can assume there was a general level of informed consent. the closest we get to something like the broad “what have i gotten myself into” of pmmm is sano trying to quit the rider battle only to be told he can’t, and that wasn’t so much “this isn’t what i signed up for” as “my circumstances have changed and i don’t need to do this anymore”. wait i just thought of a third thing which is that in ryuki if you don’t properly feed your contract monster with the souls of your defeated enemies you get eaten. end of story. but in pmmm if you don’t properly cleanse your grief seed with the souls of your defeated enemies you turn into a witch, and then someone else has to kill you, i.e. you become a mindless force to be acted on and can no longer have any say in your own existence.

so yeah in ryuki the characters are making choices to fight and pursuing their goals whereas in pmmm they got tricked and find themselves trapped on the sinking ship of their destiny. i like the ryuki version better (of course)(famously the ryuki friend over here) although i think both types of story have merit and a story about being trapped on a sinking ship is not automatically bad. however, while i don’t agree with many of the misogyny accusations leveled at pmmm, i find it suspect that the version that stars girls completely and explicitly removes most of the characters’ agency compared to the inspiration/source material

[joyfulhopelox]

Roller Cat | JHS

Summary: Getting a job at the roller skating rink was not something you would’ve expected- not when you’ve sworn to never skate again. But it’s the 50’s, you’re alone and you need money. With an old injury causing you trouble, things are about to get even more complicated when your new boss enters into the picture.

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader (ex military Hoseok, ex pro skater reader)

AU: 50s, slice of life, roller skating, s2l

Genre: fluff, with a tiny bit of angst

Rating: pg

Word count: 13.5k

Warnings: probably a lot of misogyny (it's the 50s), talk of war, injuries, 50s slang (I am sorry!)

Welcome to the BTS in the 50s collab hosted by @homeofbangtan!

A/N: I want to say a million thank yous and i will keep my promise @hobipaint for being a great beta you have been amazing and ily! Also to @notyouroppar for reading over this and the wonderful @ttaetae for making this amazing banner! I would also like to thank everyone in this collab @mochi-molala for being the brains behind this once again, @min-yoon-kween een for being an amazing admin, and to @bangtanhome , @delacyrose224 , @dinamitae , @hobiandsprite e, @joheunsaram for being such amazing people! Worked really hard on this and it was so fun to write!

I’m really sorry i had to upload this multiple times as tumblr decided it didn’t like me :c

Copyrights for the story @joyfulhopelox

As always please leave feedback and/or talk to me as i love to hear from you! I would also be forever grateful if you considered reblogging if you enjoy this, as it does help a content creator more than you think! Enjoy <3

Playlist: Maybe Baby- Buddy Holly and the Crickets, Broken Hearted Melody- Sarah Vaughan, Rip it up- Bill Haley& His Comets, Lonesome Town-Ricky Nelson, Smoke Gets in Your Eyes- The Platters, Cheek to Cheek- Ella Fitzgerald, Louis Armstrong

The sweltering heat of the summer sun radiated off the pavement, making the soles of your baby dolls stick to the grit as you trotted down the street. Sighing, you adjusted the strap of your shoulder bag, cursing yourself for the choice of white satin gloves you decided to wear. You were definitely not dressed as you would’ve liked for how hot the weather was, but the circumstances of you being out and about around town called for such a dress code. The navy pencil skirt paired with a white silk puffed sleeve blouse contrasted by your bright red babydoll pumps and shoulder bag screamed high class, yet, you were anything but. You weren’t poor, you weren’t rich either- what you were, was a single woman looking for a job.

If these circumstances didn’t call for your best dress and the only shoes and bag that matched in your wardrobe, you didn’t know what did. Feeling the weight of your typed resume in your hand your fingers tightened around the thin file. It cost you a fortune to get it typed, nevertheless, you hoped it would make you stand out and the price would be compensated by your first cheque. The click-clack of your shoes sounded sticky and you were certain the soles were already ruined by now, so mentally you added a new pair of shoes to your future expenses. The heat was ruthless today and as you came to a stop in front of your destination all you could hope was that you didn’t sweat through your blouse. Your eyes took in the building looming over you, it looked new- if the shiny red brick was any indication of its age. You assumed it was, as most of the buildings in the area suffered a lot in the past decade after the war ended.

Checking your hair once more to ensure no flyaway strands would try to sabotage your interview, you patted your skirt down and walked up towards the double doors. You struggled to open it, as the heavy door seemed to not budge, when it suddenly burst open making you squeal as you lost your footing and landed on your bum. Annoyed and upset you groaned. Ladylike behaviour be damned, you were going to give this person a piece of your mind.

“Oi!” you called out, “excuse you, have you lost your mind? Watch where you’re headed!” You squinted as you shouted at the person. The sun shone right in your eyes, making it difficult for you to see the culprit clearly. The dark outline of the person jolted as if they hadn’t realised you were there, and before you knew it, a strong grip grabbed your arm and pulled you up. Yelping, you tighten your grip on the strong arm trying to steady yourself.

“Oh, sorry!” The person’s voice sounded cheery, as if they hadn't just slammed the door into you and made you bruise your ass. You dreaded the thought of what your skirt looked like. The dark blue colour may have been able to mask any stains, but judging by the flecks of dust on your shoes, you knew that your skirt suffered the same dusty fate. Forcing down the words that were at the tip of your tongue, in fear of appearing too unlady like in front of a stranger, you painted a smile on your face as you dusted your skirt.

“No biggie, accidents happen.” You replied politely, straightening up. For the first few moments, neither you nor the man in front of you said anything, both of you too perplexed to utter a word. You could feel the strength of the grip the stranger still had on your hand as you took the time to observe him. The man was a head taller than you, his platinum blonde hair cut short and choppy. What had you frozen in your spot was not his appearance, though you were appreciative of those as well; it was his soft smile and warm, dark chocolate eyes that drew you in. His gaze fixed on yours, as you could feel a blush creeping up your cheeks; you prayed to God he’d brush it off as the heat. His soft shirt billowed in the soft warm breeze of the summer, and his hair was half covered by a golfer hat, a fashion quite audacious, in your opinion, but it seemed to suit him well.

You didn’t know how long you stared for, but when he cleared his throat you broke out of your daze. “Everything cool, ma’am?” His concerned voice sounded like honey to your ears, the soft tone suiting the rest of his countenance. You wanted to tell him off for being so careless, yet at the same time you wanted to fawn over him. Unfortunately for you, you had time to do none. The chime of the giant clock just outside made you remember the time.

“Oh, goodness, I will be late!” You exclaimed, pulling your hand out of his grip and giving yourself a final once over. Your skirt was creased, and your shoes left much to be desired, the soft white dust still clinging onto them no matter what. You berrated yourself for not carrying a handkerchief- it would have made it so much easier for you to clean yourself faster.

Without warning, the man in front of you suddenly bends down at your feet, his warm hands on your ankles making you jump. “Excuse me, what do you think you are doing?” You tried to pry your foot away from his hold. His grip on you was not strong, yet your attempts were futile. Scouring for something with his free hand he pulled out a cream coloured handkerchief. Your complaints stuck in your throat when you realised what he was doing. With seemingly utmost care, he was wiping the tip of your shoes clean.

Staring at him in shock, you could barely utter your appreciation and gratitude as he finished, the shiny red staring you straight in the face. He straightened himself up whilst folding the piece of fabric - with such elegance, you would’ve believed him if he told you he worked as a tailor. “No sweat. There you go ma’am. It should be all cool now.” You couldn’t pinpoint his accent, and as much as you wished to talk to him more to elucidate that mystery, you had no time. Muttering another round of grateful words to him, you prepared to leave.

“Oh, and ma’am, good luck!” His voice louder as you walked away from him. Stopping to look at him over your shoulder you voiced your confusion, “What for?” With the same warm smile on his face he replied cheerfully. “Getting the job. Good day!”

He tipped his golfer hat at you in greeting and quickly turned around. You stared in awe after his form, your brain trying to make sense of the situation, before you were once again reminded of the time. With one last glance at the man’s retreating back, his gait oddly straight, his movements fluid, you smiled to yourself and with a deep breath in you grabbed the door handle and pulled. Time to get the show on the road.

***

Rejected. The hopelessness you felt was transient; the words thrown at you could only be followed by anger. “We’re sorry, but the position was never to be opened to the female public. We have certain guidelines of appearance, and those were in the advertisement you responded to. Unfortunately, you do not meet the criteria we are looking for.” The man in front of you said, rather smugly. He was dressed in a suit too small for him and wearing glasses that had definitely seen better days. You wanted to retaliate, how dare he? Instead, you sighed and got up from your seat resignedly. Giving him a stony cold look, you extended your hand patiently waiting for your resume to be handed back to you.

“Thank you for your time, then.” You said impassively, struggling to keep your voice as neutral as possible. You could see the sweat running down the back of his neck as he tried to wipe it nervously with his handkerchief.

“Maybe,” a trembling hand scoured through the stack of papers on his desk, his haphazard movements causing some to fly off and land on the floor. “Aha!” Your eyebrow twitched in annoyance, you didn’t want to spend a minute more in that office. The smell of cheap cologne combined with the stale, musky scent of cigarettes made it difficult to breathe. “You said here in your resume that you were a roller skating competitor?” His beady eyes looked at you as he smiled. His grin reminded you of a shark’s, and you fought the urge to shudder.

“Yes, but that is all in the past now.” You tried to sound firm, yet the second hand smoke stuck in your throat making your voice hoarser than you would’ve liked. The man sighed, his movements exaggerated and slow, and took out the piece of paper he held in his hand down along with your resume.

“You would have been such a good fit for this, shame.” He shook his head, drops of his sweat landing on your expensive resume. You chewed on your bottom lip, the urge to gag in public too strong. Before you could explode though, you thought better of it. You were in dire need of a job, your money running low.

“What job is it?” You could see the hungry glint in his eyes as he picked up the paper with his stubby fingers and handed them to you.

“See for yourself.” He simply said, his self satisfied smirk not leaving his face as he leaned back into his chair. With one last glare in his direction you turned your attention towards the papers in your hands. Quickly skimming over the words on paper, you felt your world shift as the blood rushed to your feet.

“Roller skating instructor, part time cleaner?” Your voice sounded meek and your hands started to tremble. Your ankle started to throb and you resisted the urge to shift on your feet.

“Indeed.” The man hummed in acknowledgement, closing his eyes. The self satisfaction on his face made you nauseated. “I thought you’d be a good fit for the role since, well–“ He motioned towards your resume with his pudgy fingers. “You were a pro and all that.” He laughed out loud, the emotionless sound reverberating throughout the office.

“There is a reason I left that life.” Your eyes flitted towards your leg.

The man sniffed loudly before he coughed, the sound of his congested throat from too much nicotine made you flinch in disgust. “Well Doll, you either take it or not. It’s the best I can give you, especially with you being a woman,” he motioned towards your form, his eyes running up and down your body, making you shudder. “And all that, you know.”

You did know, and that made your blood boil in anger, but before you could say something that might ruin your chances later, you hurriedly made sure to have the papers. With a last goodbye, you left the office.

You would like to say that the day went by without a single thought about the contract lying on your kitchen table. But its presence seemed to loom over your head, like dark stormy clouds waiting to unleash their fury on you. Too many times you have walked by it, your eyes drawn to the innocent sheet of paper lying there waiting for you to address it. Too many times you’ve been compelled to throw it to the dogs, yet, you’ve sat down just as many times your trembling fingers reaching out for it. The situation proved to be a difficult one and you knew you didn’t have enough time to think about it. You needed to make a decision, soon- the sight of the stack of papers nailed to your kitchen door showed how many bills were left to pay.

As soon as you moved to the town, you knew things were about to get tougher for you. What you never expected was to have to think about the reason you’ve moved in the first place. The twinge in your ankle hadn’t stopped since you came back from the jobcentre but you knew nothing could be done about it. At least, not without risking being locked up in therapy, as the pain was only phantom pain from an old injury you’d experienced.

As the man had said earlier, there was no place for a single woman in this tiny, dingy town. Not if you didn’t have a job or a marriage prospect. If your parents had been alive you would have probably ended up working at their store with them, living a decent life. Would you have been happy? Probably not, as you had always strived for more. The sense of adventure and longing for something special pushed you to start roller skating in the first place.

Sighing, you glanced at your ankle, the faint throb always there to remind you why you’d given up on it. But you needed money. Your parents were no more, and the store had been destroyed in the last air raid before the war ended. Before you could question yourself, you grabbed the papers, put on your gloves and flats and readied yourself for a new life.

***

You couldn’t believe you were doing it. Papers in hand and heart in your throat, you watched as people lined up for the ticket box. Excited couples and children reminded you of your own elation at the prospect of putting on your skates, and for a moment you allowed yourself to reminisce. Bright eyed and rosy cheeked, your younger self couldn’t have been happier at the new entertainment that opened in town.

“Miss, you’ll have to queue to get in.” A stern voice interrupted your daydream and by God could you have kissed this person. You never wanted to go back to those memories, but by being here, a trigger was inevitable. Turning to face your saviour you offered them a tight lipped smile.

“Ah, no. I’m sorry. I’m here for the job.” You waved the papers as if to prove a point. The man, quite tall and stern- judging by the permanent creases on his forehead, gave you an unconvinced look. “I, uh, was told there is an opening as a part time cleaner?” You gulped, not daring to utter the other side of the agreement and hoping he wouldn’t prod. Resisting the urge to shift on your feet under his gaze, you glanced around hoping he wouldn’t kick you out. The amount of time and pep talk it took you to even urge yourself here made you almost beg him to let you in to apply. Almost.

“Tran, the queue is getting bigger, we should separate the slots again.” A cheery voice called out from behind. Tran, as you assumed the man was called, turned around to face whoever had spoken and without a word to you headed for the ticket box.

Dumbfounded and confused you stood there, mouth agape wondering what just happened. “Ma’am, is there anything I can help you with? If it’s for the school admissions–“ your head snapped in the direction of the voice, recognition dawning on you at the sight of the familiar blonde man. “School admissions are only on– oh, it’s you!” Too surprised to respond, you simply looked at him. Today he’d chosen a cream short sleeved shirt, and cropped dress pants. His short blonde hair was once again styled to be off his face and his cheery, sparkling eyes were wide in surprise.

“Uh.” What a good start. Not knowing what to say you nodded in acknowledgment. The heat of the sun beating down your back made you feel uncomfortable, or maybe it was just the man’s stare that caused the sheen of sweat to drip down your back.

“What brings you here?” Getting over his surprise at seeing a very unlikely face, he broke out into a grin. Giving you a once over he scratched his chin in contemplation. “Is it the job?” He motioned towards the papers that were hanging loosely in your grip.

You didn’t know what possessed you. Maybe it was the suddenness of seeing him again or the fact that you’d changed your mind, the prospect of working there no longer a viable one, in a split of a second your fingers tightened on the papers and you hid them behind your back. “What makes you think that?” You narrowed your eyes at him, “I could have very well gotten another job!”

The tone of your voice surprised him and he took a step back before he started chuckling to himself. “Of course, I apologise. What brings you here then?” He motioned behind him at the colourful building. “Is it for lessons?”

“Oh no, no. I came to–“ You paused not meeting his gaze. “Skate!” You exclaimed in his face, the insincere excitement almost making you wince. “I heard it’s the bee's knees nowadays, really!”

Hoseok glanced at you amusedly, the slight spark in his eyes as they met yours making you blush. “So–“ He cleared his throat, the sight of your bashful face suddenly a catalyst for his increasing heartbeat. “Do you come here often?” You pointed at yourself as you stared at him dumbfounded at the question. The second that passed between the two of you before you started laughing, was a tumultuous one for Hoseok. He couldn’t judge past your surprised expression and he wondered if he came on too strongly. At your laugh he felt himself relax as a lopsided grin made its way onto his face. Score.

“I, uh–“ You stopped realising he hadn't given you his name.

“Hoseok. Jung Hoseok.” He extended his hand out in greeting and you glanced at it nervously, the distress clear on your face. He wavered, nearly pulling his hand back. “You don’t have to–“

You didn’t give him a chance to continue, with a surge of confidence you stuck your hand out and gripped his tightly. “Y/N. I don’t come here often, no; I am new in town, if you couldn’t tell.” You motioned to yourself as you let his hand go, the feel of his grip still lingering on the palm of your hand making you bite your lip. You didn’t know why you were nervous, whether it was because you lied to him or his general presence around you. But the butterflies making your stomach flip were not a good sign in your books.

“There you go, Miss. Please read the rules carefully before putting these on and be mindful of the etiquette.” The girl at the front recited in a monotonous manner. You wondered if she even thought about what she was saying anymore, or if she’s said it so many times that now they tumbled out of her mouth automatically.

No matter how much mental preparation you’ve had in regards to putting on the skates, nothing could’ve readied you for the anxiety that froze you on your spot. With a trembling hand you reached for your ticket and skates. The weight of them hanging off your arm felt familiar, but before you could let your mind wander to unsavoury places the overhead announcement broke you out of your reverie. Rushed by the couple behind you, you had no choice but sit yourself on the chairs and start putting on your skates.

The familiar feeling of them on gave you goosebumps, your hands becoming clammier you struggled with the last of your laces, before a rude voice spoke from behind you. “Would you please hurry up? We got to be on the rink in a jiffy!” Turning to speak up your mind you locked eyes with a burly man, his arms twice the size of your body and you felt your words die in your throat.

“Yo, Jimmy, cool it man, it ain’t worth.” A man with a strong southern accent appeared from behind. “Leggo.”

“Nah,” the man shook off his friend’s hand and looked at you menacingly. “She needs to learn where her place is.”

At his words you felt anger bubble up in your veins but before you could say something an arm wrapped around your wrist pulling you back from the man. “Is there trouble here?” Hoseok’s calm voice radiated authority and you felt yourself shudder. His hand felt cool on your wrist and you concentrated on the feeling in hopes of calming yourself down. “Can you gentlemen please see that you line up over there?” Hoseok motioned towards the queue forming on the other side of the rink.

“That is for later entry with the kiddies!” Jimmy, as his friend had called him, bristled at the notion. “Listen here you, I don’t know who you are–“ he pointed a finger that you were certain was as thick as your arm towards Hoseok. “But you can’t tell me what to do!” He jabbed the finger into the blonde man’s chest and for a second you felt his hand on you tighten as the atmosphere seemed to sparkle with tension.

Hoseok took a deep breath in, voice menacing and rude. “Listen here you punk, I own this place and I can indeed tell you to beat it. So if you value your reputation, better see yourself out. I ain’t letting a beatnik talk like that to my customers, let alone a woman!”

Rolling your eyes at the display of testosterone between the two and choosing to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat at Hoseok’s reveal, you pulled your arm out of his hold. “Look, I’ll just go there myself.” And before any of them could utter another word you gently skated away, the thought of being back on skates pushed at the back of your mind.

***

Hoseok’s eyes followed your graceful form as you crossed towards the other side of the rink. By the way your legs moved and the stability you had on the wheels, he knew it was not your first time on skates. He would even go as far as to suspect you were a pro. Smiling softly to himself he turned around to glance at the two thugs.

“Please make your way towards the queue.” His voice spoke of finality and the two men didn’t have a chance to say anything else before he left, not deeming a conversation with them important.

Heading towards his office he made a mental note of the time and the slot you were meant to go into the rink. He wanted to have a chance to observe you, the knowledge that you were applying for the spare position weighing heavily on his mind.

Hoseok tried to convince himself that the only reason he was watching you skate with such enrapture was because of the call he had gotten earlier that day- from the job centre, telling him the new applicant was meant to arrive today. He had spotted you instantly amongst the crown outside the venue and remembered seeing you in front of the said jobcentre. It was not difficult to put two and two together, especially after the sleazy man on the phone made sure to warn him of the ‘female with nice body he was about to hire.’ Shuddering at the memory, Hoseok concentrated on you owning the rink. Your moves were fluid enough for him to be certain you were indeed a pro, however he could easily read the hesitation in your steps. There was something more to you and he strangely itched to find out.

Pulling out your resume he nodded to himself. He was right, you had been a pro, even going as far as to enter competitions. He wondered why you had stopped all of a sudden but decided that it was a story he was going to have to hear from you. First, he needed to convince you to take the job.

***

When your time slot ended, he went to approach you. Seeing you rosy cheeked from the effort, smiling as you discussed animatedly with Tran about one thing or another, then moving your attention towards a child who decided to latch onto your skirts he decided to wait. When a new slot went in, he made no move to stop you, his eyes finding Tran’s as he subtly shook his head. He would allow you to skate for as long as you wished, if it meant he got to see more of your smile.

When you finally came out of the rink, flustered at having broken the rules he approached you. Given the way you’d left, he was not expecting you to offer him a smile. But when you greeted him with your eyes crinkled and your infectious laugh echoing in the air around him, he couldn’t help but smile. Maybe this wouldn’t be as hard as he thought it would be.

“Miss. Y/N.” He greeted you with a nod of his head and you couldn’t help but blush. Not used to being shown this much courtesy from a male, you didn’t know what to do. Shifting on your feet you glanced away.

“How did you know it’s Miss and not Mrs?” You mumbled under your breath, trying to force the redness away from your face.

Seeing it as the perfect opportunity to admit he’s been hoarding your resume all this time, he came out clean about it. “I have been having a look at this.” Waving the documents in front of your face, you recognized the typed papers. With widened eyes, that melted away into a mumbled ‘oh’, you coughed subtly into your gloves.

“I, uhm, apologise for not minding when my slot ended.” You mumbled, the blush from the effort replaced with the flush from embarrassment. Glancing at Hoseok, you expected him to tut at you in annoyance, but when you locked eyes with his warm brown ones you faltered. Was he not angry with you?

“Oh, I am not, there is no reason to be.” He chuckled, the deep tone of his laugh making your heart skip a beat. “But-” He stopped abruptly, and with him, so did your heart. “I have a proposition.”

The excitement in his voice made you relax, the fear of being reprimanded by him washed away. Nodding at him to continue, he did so, “I would like you to be my assistant for the next class I am holding which should be just about-” The sound of gleeful laughter echoed through the venue as a pretty woman approached Tran, a hoard of children lined up behind her. “-Now.” Hoseok smiled at the perfect timing. Winking at you he offered you his hand. “What do you say?”

You hesitated, your heart shrinking in fear as you glanced between him and the children. You knew this was your opportunity. You could face your demons when you decided to put on the skates; now it was time to win the battle.

He wasn’t surprised at your determined nod, so before you could change your mind he grabbed your hand. Pulling you towards the now neatly arranged row of children he waved at them, grinning at the young faces. “Hello everyone, I am Hoseok, and I will be your instructor for the day.” The children, not older than a dozen years, smiled brightly at him, greeting him back.

“This,” he gestured towards you, “is going to be my aid. You can call her Miss Y/N.” Your eyes looked over every young, hopeful face that shined at the sight of the rink and you smiled brightly at them as you waved. “Today we are going to show you how fun roller skating can be! I hope you are all ready!” He hyped the audience up, before pausing, a comical expression on his face.

“But before that, I will need to put on my skates.” The children laughed at his silliness as he rushed away to put on the forgotten skates.

“Right!” His shout across the rink drew everyone’s attention, and you glanced his way just in time to witness him doing the smoothest round of the arena you have ever seen. Eyes wide in surprise you felt your jaw drop. Where was all this talent coming from? Admittedly, you knew nothing about him, but the way he glided across the shiny surface made you smile. But you sure as heck wanted to know more.

“It’s your turn to show us what you got, Roller Cat.” Eyes wide you looked at him, not expecting the nickname to come out of his mouth. Pointing at yourself in surprise you glanced at the group of children and mouthed ‘Roller Cat’ making them roar in laughter. Smirking at your success, you pirouetted on spot with a flourished bow at the end.

“As you wish.” Everyone clapped in awe at your display and Hoseok smiled softly at you, his heart already settled on having you as his employee. That is how the rest of the lesson went for you. Hoseok refused to show the children more of his tricks unless they begged, allowing you to not only display your skills but also get more confident in this position. After all, in his heart he already knew he was going to pick you, but he also wanted you to pick the job without being forced.

At the end of the workday, you helped him clean the area, humming along to the songs on the radio that Tran had left behind. “I see you are finding yourself happy doing this job.” Hoseok’s voice made you jump in surprise.

Turning around to face him, you smiled sheepishly at him. Yes, you had enjoyed yourself, that was not a secret. “Would you be able to do this from now on?” Hoseok’s tone mellowed, the excitement turning into seriousity. He needed to know if you were comfortable enough to take the job permanently, his whole being hoping you would say yes.

With a gleam in your eyes that took his breath away you answered, “I think I would like that, if you’d have me.”

“So what’s your tale, nightingale?” You weren’t expecting him to ask this of you weeks after you’ve started working there. The classes have been going well, the people booking your lessons more than accepting of a woman teaching them. You got along well with everyone, always finding time to chat with Tran before opening. What you mostly cherished were these late nights you spent with him, cleaning the venue from the day’s activities. A time to get to know each other and also wind down after long days.

You’ve always avoided talking about each other’s past. You’ve seen the pain sometimes flash across his face when he thought no one was looking; making it clear that just like you, he had a past. You stopped cleaning the floor, throwing him an uncertain glance as you felt his gaze on you.

“I uh, well, I’m not born and bred here, but in the town over. Nothing interesting really. Skating had been my life for a while before I moved away here.” You shrugged your shoulders trying your best not to make it look unnatural. Underneath your calm composure, anxiety was building up. You prayed he would not ask why you decided to give up skating, but you braced yourself for it, the question hanging heavily in the air.

“How did you find this first month?” Hoseok changed the subject, the way your shoulders slumped and your mumbles were a clear indication of not wanting to talk about your past. He glanced at his knee, a woeful smile on his face; if there was anyone who understood that, it would be him.

Glancing at him you beamed, “I loved it! It's been exciting and I love everyone I get to teach!” You started talking animatedly, the memories of this past month making you giddy. He grinned as you carried on, the obvious smile in your voice making his heart lighter. “Oh, I’m sorry.” You apologised as you realised you’ve been talking for a while about your experience without allowing Hoseok to say anything.

“No need to apologise, Roller Cat.” He gave you the widest smile he could muster, his heart threatening to burst with happiness at seeing the gleam in your eyes. “But,” He leaned in towards you to whisper in your ear, “I can show you something better.”

“What do you mean?” You glanced at Hoseok, not able to believe what you were hearing.

He chuckled, his hand extending towards yours, “Let me show you.”

***

The neon lights in the rink reflected Hoseok's platinum hair, giving it a colourful hue. He wore an encouraging smile as he stepped closer towards you with his hand extended. Glancing at it, you swallowed thickly. It looked warm and inviting and without a second thought you gingerly placed yours on top. If you hesitated joining him in the roller rink before, this time you needn’t think twice, and as he enclosed his slender fingers around your hand you knew you’d made the right choice. As if the stars had aligned, the first chords of Ricky Nelson’s Lonesome Town echoed through the empty venue.

It started slowly, unsure, both of you hesitating to get closer to each other. Your gaze was fixed on your feet, your insecurities stopping you from lifting your eyes to meet his. Hoseok’s hand tightened around yours and without a warning he pulled you towards him. Not having expected it, you squeaked as you stumbled straight into his arms. Your hands were clammy, your feet hesitantly stepping from side to side in an unsure sway. When you accepted to dance with Hoseok you weren’t expecting the rhythm of your heart to speed up like a drum. Nor were you expecting the warm feelings that washed over you when you felt his hand enclose over yours. You tried your hardest to keep your attention on your feet, fearing the odd chance you’d stumble and end up falling over.

“Roller cat, you gotta step it up.” His amused voice broke through Ricky’s lament. Lifting your head up your gaze locked onto his, his chocolate coloured eyes mesmerising. You exhaled softly, reminding yourself to breathe as the arm on your mid back slid down lower, encasing your waist in his strong arms.

Hoseok revelled in the feel of your softness underneath his hand, your body involuntarily leaning closer into him. You were close enough that he could feel your breaths brush across his neck- yet, you were still too far away for his liking. He stepped closer to you, so close that your baby hairs were tickling his chin - he had to hold back a smile as he noticed how your bodies fit together. The soft melody of the song masked your gasp and you prayed to God that he couldn’t feel how your heartbeat sped up or how clammy your hands had gotten.

“Much better.” His whisper brushed past the sensitive shell of your ear making you tremble. Subconsciously your eyes closed and your head inched closer and closer to the nape of his neck, a wave of tiredness suddenly washing over you. The slow rhythm of the song, along with the warmth of his body, surrounded you in calm serenity.

Swaying side to side to the rhythm of the song in his arms made you feel safe, made you feel secure, as if you were not alone anymore. The rhythm of his heartbeat in sync with the chords of the song, lulled you into a dreamlike state, your body relaxing into his. Hoseok closed his eyes, the feel of your warmth against him filling him with inexplicable joy. He was nervous, his lungs fighting to breathe normally as he felt you relax against him. He took a staggered breath trying to calm himself down before he slowly started humming along to the song. The vibrations from his chest as he hummed made you open your eyes, a faint smile on your face as you listened to his soft voice.

“You are always humming, why don’t you sing? You have a nice voice. I like it.” You mumbled absentmindedly, your mind in a daze. Hoseok stopped abruptly at your compliment, feeling his face heat up in embarrassment. He was so used to humming along to songs whenever he felt overwhelmed that it didn’t cross his mind that you would also be able to hear it. He glanced down at you, the sight of your relaxed posture and closed eyes warmed his heart. Without a second thought ,instead of humming he started singing along to the song, his clear voice echoing in your ears.

You weren’t wrong to assume he could sing, for as soon as he started singing, the timbre of his voice along with the low melody of the song set your mind at ease. Without thinking you sighed audibly, the euphoric feeling of the moment enveloping you.

You didn’t know how long had passed since you started dancing, one song turned into another and soon enough all blended into one. Hoseok hadn’t stopped singing along to any song that came over the speakers and you couldn’t have been more grateful. The pounding of your heart at his closeness made it difficult for you to concentrate on anything else but the heat emanating from him.

Suddenly his voice broke and a sharp inhale from him pulled you out of your reverie. “Hoseok?” You raised your head to glance at him in concern, your eyes searching his face for any sign of pain. Whatever you had been expecting to find was overridden at the sight of his scrunched up face, a lonesome tear making its way down his face. “Hey.” You gently pulled away from him, making some room between the two of you but not stepping out of his arms completely. The tight hold he still had on your waist told you he still needed you near.

Hoseok felt the soft pads of your fingers wipe away at the stray tear running down his cheek. The pain he was in didn’t allow for any embarrassment and he did his best to not pull you back up against him as the urge to hold you tight to his chest washed over him. Opening his eyes he met your glistening ones, and with a painful clench of his heart he realised the worry you carried in them.

You felt the coolness of metal underneath your hand as you slid your palm away from him. Glancing curiously at his chest, the familiar sight of dog tags caught your attention. Not daring to ask about them, your fingers traced the edges of it, until curiosity got the best of you. “Hoseok?” You glanced up at him surprised to find his eyes trained on you with a look on his face that you couldn’t decipher.

“As an ex-military, this is the only remainder of my service towards the country.” His voice was low, the pain evident in his voice. “Well that and–“ he chuckled humourlessly. “The nightmares I have every other night.”

Hearing his story, you felt your heart weep for him. You couldn’t imagine the horrors he must have faced. The war ended a decade ago, and for him to still have to relive those atrocities whilst he slept…

“It must be awful. I am so sorry.” You whispered, your hand covering the tags resting on his breastbone right above his heart. Doing a quick round of maths in your head you gasped. “You must have been so young too!” You almost recoiled from the force of your realisation. If Hoseok’s arm around your waist hadn’t tightened you would’ve fallen right on your bum.

“Careful, Doll.” He smiled at you, the gentle look that replaced the pain in his eyes waking up the butterflies in your stomach. You couldn’t imagine, this positive, joyful person having gone through so much from such a young age and still be the wonderful man that you’ve come to know.

“I was barely an adult.” He nodded, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, his thumb wiping away at a stray tear you hadn’t noticed rolled down your cheek. For a second everything stopped, his thumb froze against your cheek as you glanced at him beneath your lashes. Hoseok’s gaze searched yours for something, you didn’t know if you were prepared to give. His head lowered towards yours, his warm breath brushing against your eyelids and you resisted the urge to close them. You thought for a second he was going to kiss you, and for that split second you were more than willing to allow him to do so. Unexpectedly, he pulled back his arm letting go of your waist, the hand cupping your cheek dropping back to his side. Laughing, this time in amusement, he changed the subject. “Look at us, we were meant to clean up, instead we made more of a mess.”

Trying to not show your disappointment, you smiled at him and winked. “Well I have to earn my money around here somehow, don’t I?”

When you arrived at the rink the next day, you knew you were in for trouble when Hoseok’s excited voice greeted you before you could put your bag down. “Y/N! How are you today?” He sounded suspiciously happy, more so than on a normal day and you eyed him without a word. The office looked suspiciously clean to you today and as your gaze flitted throughout the space you noticed the stack of papers lying on his desk, the flashy colours of a printout catching your eye. Motioning towards the ever increasing pile you went to retrieve them, coming to accept that aside from being a part time instructor, filling out the paperwork was a full time job.

“I’ll tackle those.” The emotionless tone in your voice caught not only you by surprise but Hoseok recoiled back as if he’s been burnt. The complete contrast between today and the night before confused him. He didn’t have the time to dwell on it. Realising you were about to discover his well thought out plan, he jumped into action, grabbing your wrist gently as he got up, his chair hitting the wall behind him.

“No, no, Roller Cat, it’s all good. I got that one. You’ve been doing too much around here.” He smiled at you, eyes closing and teeth on full show. Even though it wasn’t your first time experiencing his broad smile, something about this one seemed disingenuous. Ignoring the way his hold burned your skin under his touch and resisting the urge to yank your wrist out of his hold you narrowed your eyes at him.

“I have barely done anything since last week.” You congratulated yourself for the calmness in your voice. The smile slowly dropped off his face, and he locked gazes with you. “And before you say I was ill–“ you raised your hand to stop him mid breath, “– I only had a mild stomach bug, I wasn’t an invalid.” At the mention of the word, Hoseok’s smile drops completely, the instant change in mood doesn’t escape your notice. Remembering the story he’s told you the night before your mood instantly sours. This is what you get for being insensitive. Offering him an apologetic smile, hoping that your eagerness to help him with the paperwork would clear the air between the two of you, you reach for the pile of papers once more.

“Come on, let me have them.” Hoseok acted quickly, the flash of pain he felt at your words instantly replaced with fear. He couldn’t let you see those documents yet, not until he’s made sure he buttered you up in preparation. Pushing aside his phantom pains, he wraps his free arm around your shoulders, his knee once again twinging in protest at his careless movement.

“Y/N, it would be better if we focus on opening today first,” The sudden change in demeanour gave you a whiplash. Too stunned to say anything, you let him drag you out into the main rink, the dim lights reminding you of the previous night. A flurry of butterflies rattled your stomach as his hold on you, strong and stable arms wrapped around your shoulders, reminded you of that night, the illusion of a faint musky scent enveloping you once again. “We have a school trip incoming today, and you know you deal the best with ‘em ankle biters.” His praise reminded you of where you were, the cold reality of having to start a new day bursting the comfortable bubble the two of you created the night before. It was one time and one time only. You side eyed him suspiciously.

“Stop feeding me apple butter, Hoseok.” Resisting the urge to cross your arms, the action too unladylike even for your taste you shook your head at him. “Just come out with it already. Is there anything you don’t want me to see in there?”

Hoseok huffs at you, his over dramatic expression of innocence worsening your suspicions. “What could it be, Roller Cat? There is nothing; if you don’t trust me to do my own paperwork and want to check over them later, you can do so.” He lets you go ushering you into the rink. “For now, we got curtain climbers to entertain.”

You stared at him incredulously, your mouth agape as he winked at you, and with a final energetic wave he rushed back to his office, the door slamming shut after him. It took you a moment to recollect yourself, and before you could even step foot in the rink, the guard made his way over towards you from the other side.

“Y/N, are we ready to start the day?” He smiles at you, his cheery disposition always a surprise to you. You hadn’t spoken much to him. The few times you had, weren’t outside of working hours where his merry self would be replaced by a tight lipped smile and fierce eyes scouring the rink for any misdemeanour. You offered him your own greeting, a small nod of your head as you rushed to get your skates on. The sight of the white shiny wheels made you smile, the dance you shared with Hoseok still fresh in your mind.

Your curiosity at what he could have been hiding was at its peak, when an idea popped into your mind. “Hey, Tran.” You called over your shoulder at him, your hands busy with your laces. The shout of acknowledgement he offered you spurred you on, “do you know what has gotten Hoseok so giddy?” Finishing with your laces, you turned around just in time to catch the worried glance he threw you. “Tran.” You warned him, knowing that he was also going to feed you bull.

“It’s–“ Before he could continue you interrupted him. “Out with it, and I want the truth.” You gave him the hardest stare you could muster, arms crossed over your chest.

Realising there was no way out Tran sighed defeated, he only hoped his boss would not kick him to the curb after this. “It’s a competition.” Your angry expression morphed into confusion as you let your arms drop to your side.

“Oh, ok, I don’t understand-” Relief coursed through you knowing that it wasn’t anything more serious. You have only known Hoseok for a few months but you were aware of his tendency to hide his own feelings from everyone, especially the negative ones.

“Look, there is no reason to beat around the bush anymore. He is hosting the competition this year.” Tran interrupted your train of thoughts and the brief relief you felt morphed into horror.

“No, Tran-” You rolled yourself back, the weight of your body almost too much for your weakened knees. “He couldn’t have! That means one of us has to participate!” Realisation dawned on you and you let yourself drop in a crouch. The weight of this announcement was too much for you to bear, the cold feeling of panic causing goosebumps on your skin. “He wants me to participate, doesn’t he?” Your voice came as a whisper, and you looked up at Tran, your desperate eyes causing him to flinch.

“Look Dolly, it’s something he has to tell you on his own, and something you have to discuss between the two of you.” Raising his hands up in defence he took a step back. “I gotta dash towards the front. Just–“ Pausing to look at you, his weary expression turning soft he continued “–don’t flip your lid, be mindful that he only wants what is best for you.” With that he didn’t allow for a response from you as he rushed back towards the doors. You wondered how his tall wide frame allowed such a speed, but you didn’t have time to dwell on your thoughts, you had your boss to deal with.

You didn’t bother to take off your skates. The need to release your anger and frustration at the blonde haired man was too great, so you stomped towards the office. The sounds of the doors opening and the first group of rambunctious children entering the venue did very little to deter you.

You offered him the courtesy of knocking, but that is where your goodwill ended. Not waiting for him, you burst into his office, the thought that he may fire you lurking somewhere at the back of your mind.

“Y/N.” Hoseok looked up at you in surprise from his seat behind the desk. “Are you ok?” He made a move to get up but you stopped him dead in his tracks. It may have worked for him to run away from his pain whilst managing this space, but there was no possible way for him to meddle in your own business.

“A competition?” You surprised yourself with the calmness of your voice, when all you could think of were ways of telling him off for meddling in your life. However, he was still your boss, and even if you didn’t want to admit it, you knew that you admired him- you would even go as far as saying that you liked him. You expected him to deny it, to defend himself, but when all he did was gaze at you with sadness you felt your heart crumble underneath his stare. “Really?” You whispered, the realisation of what he was about to do without telling you until the very last minute more painful than the act itself.

Hoseok glanced away from you, his shoulders slumped in defeat. He knew he had fucked up not having told you from the beginning what he was planning to do. But he was also aware of the fact that you would’ve shut him down immediately, not even willing to give him a chance to explain himself. “Y/N.” He sighed, rubbing his eyes.

You took a good look at him, suddenly realising how tired he looked. The fire was knocked out of you at his forlorn expression; you decided to not interrupt him. To ensure that he was aware of your willingness to hear his explanation, you leaned against the doorway, arms still crossed. At his questioning gaze, you nodded, waiting. .

“Look, Y/N, I-” Hoseok paused as he weighed the words carefully in his head. He knew he had to thread with caution otherwise he would risk everything he’s managed to build until now. “Yes, a competition.” He finally worded his answer, his mind battling with finding the right decision.

“I had to do it. You are not allowing yourself to live to your full potential.” He didn’t know what came over him, but the frustration at seeing you hold your own self back made the words tumble out of his mouth. “I think you should participate and show the world what you got!” He exclaimed.

“No, Hoseok! You–“ You jabbed your finger into his chest, a twinge of guilt cursing through you at his wince. However, you were too aggravated to stop yourself, “Don’t get to have a say in what I should do!”

Hoseok closed his eyes for a moment, the tone of your voice made his heart clench. After the previous night, he thought he had a chance to be the one to lift you up once more. What he hadn’t calculated was the extent of your own stubbornness. “You can do this, Y/N! Don’t hold yourself back anymore!” His voice came out stronger than he’d intended and for a second everything went silent. His breath hitched at the thought of having worsened the situation.

“I can’t.” Your voice came out as a whisper, the fight you were ready to put up knocked out of you. The belief on Hoseok’s face and the spark in his eyes when he voiced his encouragement had you almost crumple to the ground. The only thing keeping you together was the sheer fear of what could happen if you did decide to take a chance and listen to him. “I’ve lost so much that I don't want to go through this pain again.” Hoseok looked as if he was ready to say something only to stop himself at the last minute.

“Roller Cat.” He reached out for you, and you recoiled from him suddenly only for your wheels to get caught in a board and you hurtled to the floor with a yelp. You didn’t know whether it was the pain shooting up your back or the vines of hurt and anger that wrapped themselves around your heart, all you knew was that in that moment you couldn’t keep your tears at bay.

“You don’t get to tell me this belief bull.” You sniffed, the tears not willing to stop. Motioning around you as you carried on, “not when this is what you’ve hidden your pain under.” You knew your words would hurt him, the sharp inhale only confirmed it but you couldn’t stop now. Not when you gathered the courage to share your side of the story with him.

“I gave up skating because of a competition.” You looked up at him, the need to get the story off your chest too great. “I was in the run for the win.” You could recall vividly how elated you were to be amongst the favourites that season. How happy you were that all the hard work had paid off. “But when a misplaced foot and an overly waxed floor took it all away from me-” You felt the continuous stream of tears down your face. The thought of that day and the pain that you felt not only when you hit the ground, your ankle and knee at the wrong angle, but also the pain of having lost too fresh in your mind. You could barely see him through the drops of salty water, but you knew what expression he’d be wearing after hearing all this - pity. It was all you have been given since that day. The judges pitied you out loud in front of the crowd, making it unbearable for you to stay there any longer, your coaches pitied you behind your back as you were changing out of your skates, the public and the local press pitied you. Pity was all you’ve known, and you were sick of it.

“To top it all off, not only did I have to retreat from something that genuinely made me happy, but that year, I also had to face the loss of my parents.” You hadn’t thought about them in a while, the loss took a great toll on you. “Roller skating competitions are not what I want to do anymore, they are not my future, no matter how much I wish they would be. I lost too much because of them.” You finished, your voice breaking at the end as sobs wracked through your body.

Hoseok stood in silence, he was conflicted as to what he should do. On one hand, the need to comfort you and offer you encouraging words made him itch to reach out to you and offer you his whole strength. On the other hand, he wouldn’t allow himself to do so. He knew what it was like, to feel the weight of the pitiful stares that people threw your way. He went through that more than once, not only when he got deployed, but also when he returned. Even though a winner, not only of the war but also of his life, people decided that he’s lost too much to deserve congratulations. Or maybe it was their own loss that projected through in their words towards him. Regardless, he knew how harmful it could be, and he knew that you just like himself must’ve been sick of it. Even though his comfort would not come from a place of pity, but a place of love, he knew you would take it as such.

“Y/N, listen to me, you have all the right to be angry with me for not consulting you before I made this decision for the both of us. But I only did it because I believe in you.” Your complaints died on your lips at his words. “You are not weak, you are not strong either. But you are a fighter. And I have seen that in you.” His voice penetrated through your self doubt, your tears finally at bay, you couldn't break your gaze away from him.

“You are a fighter, you entered this rink even though you were scared of doing that. You put on those skates, even though your knees were shaking.” At your incredulous stare he laughed. “Yes, I did see you that first afternoon. I was watching you closely.” He declared, his gaze not breaking away from yours and you fought down a blush at his words. “I saw what you can do with that rink. Your passion for it still shines in the way you teach it, the way you want people to have the tools to master it. And I know that you can do this.” Your heart threatened to beat out of your chest at his stern voice, you haven’t seen Hoseok this serious about anything and the thought of it being directed towards you made you feel the guilt creep up your spine.

He had gone through a lot himself, more than you have probably, who were you to complain about these fears to him? Thinking about it, you had no right. Glancing away from him, the shame of your own brashness hitting you. “I am sorry.”

At the sound of your broken voice Hoseok panicked. Has he been too harsh on you? “Roller Cat.” He forced his feet to move from their frozen position, crouching down next to your huddled figure, the way your arms wrapped around your middle making it seem as if you were comforting yourself. “Hey, look at me.”

You shook your head at his request, you didn’t want to look at him. You knew your resolve would crack if you did. And so with the last bit of strength, both physical and emotional, you pushed yourself up and turned away from him. “Please, understand that I can't. I’m sorry.”

Hoseok watched your back, weighing his next words carefully. He knew he couldn’t push you more than that. But he could give you the choice, “Y/N, think about it. The entry has already been made, it’s yours to take if you so wish.” You didn’t know why his words felt like a ton of rubble had fallen onto you, but the feeling made you flee out of his office in an instant, not bothering to glance back.

You went back in the following days, aware of the fact that regardless of your avoidance of the owner, you still had a job to do. You kept to yourself, the weight of the approaching competition looming over your head like a rock tied to a string waiting to crash onto you making it impossible for anyone to get more than a few syllables out of you.

Hoseok tried to talk to you the following day after your argument. Only for you to brush him off under the pretense of having a lot of work to do; he left you to your own devices after receiving such a cold response. Tran had tried to talk to you, but your monotonous tone riled him up and so he decided to give you some space to sort your thoughts out.

You weren’t willing to sort anything out though, firmly believing that you were right to stand your ground. It was your choice and no one could sway you. Not even the man you’d come to fall in love with.

You did underestimate one detail, and that was the fact that if stubbornness had a name, it would be Tran. After a week of seeing you walk around like a zombie and Hoseok doing nothing but watching you from afar with pained eyes, he decided to take matters into his own hands.

One hot afternoon, the last one of the season you reckoned, he decided to corner you as you took the trash out. Coming up from behind you he gripped the bag you were struggling with and lifted it effortlessly .

“You need to learn to accept help Dolly.” He cut you off before you could start complaining. Silenced by his statement you blinked hard at him. Tran stared at you, taking in your drawn pale complexion and he sighed. Throwing the bag into the container he gently nudged you towards the steps of the building. Taking a seat he motioned for you to do the same.

You contemplated whether or not you should turn away and leave but when he grabbed your hand and pulled you down softly you complied, your feet unable to hold your own weight. The tiredness and stress you’d been feeling for the past few days was finally getting to you.

“Look Dolly, Hoseok wants what is best for you.” Tran decided to speak after a few moments of silence. Hearing Hoseok’s name you motioned to get up but Tran preempted that and his next words stopped you in your tracks. “He has told you about being drafted in the army as a teen right?”

Sitting back down you nodded silently, not trusting yourself to utter another word. “Good, well–“ Tran shifted his position to look at you and for the first time in a while you decided to speak.

“Why me? Why couldn’t he enter himself? He skates just as well, if not better than me.” Your voice was hoarse with emotions and you let out a shaky breath.

“Has he ever told you about the way he returned from the war?” Tran sighed, knowing he was about to breach his boss’ trust but it was a necessary evil. He couldn’t stand to see the two of you cause more harm towards each other. When you shook your head in response he continued. “Broken and injured.” You gasped, your head snapping up looking at Tran for any sign of mockery. At his somber expression you felt the familiar sting of tears.

“He didn’t see the end of the war, he got sent back with an injured knee – almost lost it.” Tran stopped reminiscing about the time he met Hoseok. “I met him as a nurse.” You bit your lip from mentioning something about it. You didn’t know why but the thought of this tall man being a nurse seemed impossible.

“He luckily survived, through infection and the loss of his family. Then he decided to open this place up. It took him years to get himself back together.” Tran looked at you, the mix of emotions crossing against your face told him he was right to tell you this. “I followed him as he became a good friend. Slowly he found the strength to carry on, and become the Hoseok that you know now.” Tran finished the story just as the tears started overflowing down your cheeks.

You never imagined that Hoseok would’ve lived such a life. How naive, he fought in a war. Of course his life has been hard. The silence that fell over you was only broken by the sounds of your sniffles and Tran gave you one last look before he patted your knee and got up.

“He doesn’t want pity.” You gasped as you looked up at the man. “He just wants understanding.” Tran threw you one last knowing look before he made his way back into the building leaving you to your own thoughts.

There was no doubt in your heart anymore- it suddenly felt as if days of torment had ended with a few words. Rushing back in, you desperately yelled out Hoseok’s name.

“He’s not here Dolly, he left for the day.” Tran spoke from his seat. “Maybe you should too.”

Your shoulders slumped, afraid that if you didn’t get what you needed off your chest you would never have the courage to do so. Turning around on your heels to leave you stopped as Tran shouted your name. “Maybe it’s worth having some fun tonight.” Looking at him over your shoulder you gave him a grin as he winked at you. “You never know what you can find at the drive thru?”

***

You didn’t know what possessed you to follow through with your mad plan, but you thanked your lucky stars for being able to spot Hoseok’s car quickly. Rushing towards it you knocked on the window and smiled unsurely at him as his surprised gaze met yours. Not wasting any time Hoseok stepped out of the car, his confused expression almost making you laugh. Almost.

“Y/N?” You nodded at him and raised your hand up knowing that if you didn’t get everything off your chest then and there you would never get the courage to.

“Look, I just-” The loud sounds of the movie starting made you jolt in surprise. Hoseok grabbed your hand and motioned for you to get into his car. Shutting the door behind you, the loud sounds of the roll muffled, you carried on. “I wanted to say I am sorry. I was selfish, and only thought of myself.” Hoseok’s face dropped as realisation dawned on him.

“Tran told you, didn't he?” He calmly said, and you nodded, swallowing hard. You didn’t know what his reaction to this would be but you weren’t expecting the warm gentle smile he offered you. “It’s alright, I should’ve mentioned it myself. But as you would know, I didn’t want to be pitied. I also didn’t want to be seen as weak.” You grabbed his hand before he could continue.

“You would never be weak in my eyes, no matter what.” You declared, sure of yourself. “You’ve built a life, despite everything that happened, and that is something that requires more strength than anything else. In fact-” You paused glancing up at him, feeling a blush threaten to take over your complexion. “It is I who should be feeling weak.” Hoseok opened his mouth to protest but you squeezed his hand in reassurance. “I have come to terms with it. I want to join the competition.” You declared, the fire in your heart bursting into a blaze.

“Y/N…” Hoseok searched your face for any sign of hesitance, when he found none he decided to carry on. “Are you sure?” At your nod he smiled. He had faith that you would come around and decide to fight your demons, and he would be right there beside you to help you through them.

“But…” you smiled sheepishly at him. “I’m out of practice, so I may need some help?”

“I will always be right there beside you.” His thumb traced delicate patterns on the inside of your wrist and the feeling of fireworks exploding in your heart went in line with the increasing sounds coming from the movie neither of you was paying attention to.

The applause and shouts from the audience echoed in your brain, your hands trembling as you fought to keep yourself upright. Your clammy hands clasped tightly onto your skirt and you took a deep inhale. The pep talk you had with yourself earlier seemed like it had been eons away. The only remains of it echoing through your head serving to fuel your anxiety rather than quench it. You can’t let Hoseok down.

You found it incredibly ironic how in the space of a couple of weeks you have grown to not only care about him but also go as far as to say you loved him. He may have been broken by his past, but he was doing his best to fix his future. His positivity and trust in your skills are what brought you here in the first place, the least you could do was to honour him by reaching the final stage. Thinking of him, you gazed around trying to find him in the crowd, in hopes that you would get to see him once more before you set your wheels onto that floor. However in the sea of heads you couldn’t spot his signature platinum blonde, and for a second you felt the tendrils of anxiety try to sneak past your defences. Knowing that a panic attack would hinder more than help you decided to not give up. He had to be somewhere around. He promised he would come and see you before the start.

With a deep breath in you tried once more, trying hard to stand on your tiptoes as you balanced yourself on the skates. The masses of people going past you minding their own business not caring if they slammed into another person were not making the job easier for you.

“Hoseok!” You didn’t know what possessed you, but his name tumbled out of your mouth before you could think about it. Your breath hitched, a glimmer of hope shining in your heart as you heard someone yell your name from a distance. Your eyes scanned the room once more, still unable to find the man you were looking for.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats as we are about to start the competition.” The familiar voice reverberated through the venue announcing the start of the competition. When the next announcement followed stating the need for the competitors to take their designated seats you deflated. There was no way you would find him now. You needed to go.

“Roller Cat!” A familiar hand landed on your shoulder but instead of alarming you, you felt your whole body relax as if it had been waiting for his touch. And maybe you had, the familiar butterflies you felt before when you were slow dancing in the middle of the rink stirred up again and your body felt warm.

“Hey, I thought I would miss you.” He stated as you turned around.

The sight of his warm brown eyes made you smile, it felt complete and as if he read your desperate gaze and the anxiety in your soul he spread his arms wide, a reassuring smile on his face. As you stepped into his embrace, your cheek resting above where his heart would be, you realised he was just as nervous as you were. The realisation that he was nervous for you made your eyes tear up. Tightening your grip around him, you grabbed at his jean jacket for that stability that you were missing earlier.

“It will be ok, Y/N. I promise.” You could swear you felt the brush of his lips against the crown of your hair but the feeling had been so flitting and your desire for something like that to happen was too great. You chucked it as your imagination and settled on burying your face into him.

“Thank you, Hoseok.” Glancing up at him one last time you answered the roll call not daring to break your gazes.

“Y/N, please make your way to the floor,” An employee gestured towards the line of contestants and you gulped. It was now or never.

“Roller Cat, you will do amazing, I know it!” Hoseok squeezed your hand one last time before he let go. With a deep breath you nodded at him and turned towards the crowd. You could do this.

***

It was during your last few moves that you felt your world crash around you. Once again as if your life had been cursed, you watched as if in slow motion as gravity worked its magic and you approached the ground at an alarming speed. The twinge in your ankle caused a wrong step at the right time to send you hurtling towards the floor. The pain in your side as you landed on the shiny surface didn't feel anywhere near as great as the thoughts of failure that invaded your mind.

For a second all you could hear in the dead silence- or maybe it was loud, was your own ragged breath. As you glanced around the area you tried to find something to ground you, something to bring you back towards the present, to pull you away from your past. You could see people mouthing something at you, why couldn’t you hear them? The room was hectic, people standing you, motioning towards you looking at something behind you. Then you heard it, the noise you needed to latch onto.

“Y/N! Roller Cat.” His voice sounded as if it was underwater yet the horror in it was not lost to your ears. With a cough you tried to get yourself to move, to reach him even if it was just a slight glimpse of him. With great effort you turned around, the weight of your legs suddenly resembling the one of lead. “Y/N, here.”

As you finally locked eyes with him, it felt as if time had started working again, and as if you’ve been pulled through a vortex- everything hit you at once. The loudness of the crowd, the pain radiating from your side where you landed on, the pulsating feeling in your ankle, and most importantly, you regained your breath. With the large inhale you took, you felt your lungs burning at the lack of oxygen they’ve suffered from, only to constrict as you started coughing.

“Y/N.” Through your hazy vision you could see Hoseok’s form approaching you, the closer he got, the better you could see the worry etched onto his face. The wave of shame that hit you, knowing that you have failed him, made you glance away from him.

“Hey.” He wrapped his arm around your shoulders in an attempt to support you. “Breathe.” He instructed you, his command reminding you of the burn in your lungs.

You nodded at him, your eyes filling up with tears. “I’m sorry.” Your voice was hoarse and broken, and Hoseok felt his heart clench in pain.

“You did amazing, Roller Cat.” He encouraged you, his hand squeezing your shoulder in reassurance.

“No I didn’t, I failed.” Your lungs hurt and your ankle throbbed, the shouts of the crown finally reaching your ears. Whereas you expected them to have been shouts of disappointment, your eyes widened in surprise when all you heard were encouragements. They were shouting for you to get back up and finish what you had started. Glancing at Hoseok, your eyes widened in surprise, a lonesome tear running down your face, you couldn’t believe your ears.

“Told you.” Hoseok smiled at you. With a strong grip on your shoulders he pulled you up in a standing position, making sure to support you in case your ankle decided to give up on you once more. “Are you ready to show them what you have?” He asked you, the confidence in his eyes almost making you weep.

“There is no way I can carry on, I can barely support my own weight.” You protested and he shook his head at you.

“No one said you need to carry this out on your own.” He motioned towards his feet and you wondered how you hadn't seen the skates on his feet. “We will be doing this together.” He didn’t allow you any room to back out before he motioned towards the judges. “Apologies, we will be carrying on as a duo.” He nodded at them before he turned around to look at you.

“Ready?” His warm gaze made our toes curl and you nodded at him. If you had him by your side you knew you’d get through it. Even if you didn’t win.

Slowly, with him supporting your weight, you tailored your routine towards a couple one, the twists you were meant to be doing aided by him as your second pair of feet, any jumps or turns he would pick you up and do them with you. You could care less about the win, your sole attention on him and his comforting gaze. Once again being transported back in time, when you shared your first dance together. Whereas then, the love between the two of you was just growing into a bud, now it was blossoming into a beautiful flower. A flower that you couldn’t wait to nurture.

Finishing the routine, both of you panting, the elated shouts of the crowd making your pulse race adding to the adrenaline coursing through you. Glancing at Hoseok, your cheeks hurting from grinning so widely, you caught his gaze flitting down towards your lips, and before you could stop yourself you decided to ride that high until the end. And so without a care in the world you threw your hands around his neck and lifted yourself up to place your lips on his. Hoseok wrapped his arms around your waist pulling you flush against him, his heart pounding against his chest as he revelled in the feel of your soft lips against his.

You smiled into the kiss, the happiness that washed over you too much to contain. Hoseok felt your smile and he pulled away laughing at your expression.

“What’s up Roller Cat?”

“I was just thinking that I may have not won the competition, but I got my prize.” You stated matter of factly before you pulled him into a kiss once more.

Main Masterlist

[gothhabiba]

perhaps this is due in part to the pacing of this show just being unavoidably screwy, but during season four I think the Human Crop 2.0's characters and motivations are not adequately explored. the enormous question of the possibility of improvement from behaviours like misogyny, racism, and sexual harassment (which latter thing is just..... skated over completely?), which really ought to be central to a show about. ethics. is kind of phoned in.

in particular, it annoys me a good deal that we're TOLD that Simone makes unfair snap judgements about people, but we never.... see it? every time she "judges" Brent, it's an accurate assessment of whatever it is that he's just done, not a (however accurate or inaccurate) assumption about what he's about to do. we see the others' flaws actually play out, but not hers? and it feels REALLY weird to be told that a Black woman is judgemental and mean or whatever and then have that be completely unsubstantiated. you can call her decision not to help Brent out of the hole a demonstration of a flaw, but I'd see that as a lack of forgiveness or a failure to help someone regardless of how she feels about them. maybe a judgement of his future potential as a human being. and 1. that's different from what we're told is her flaw, which is making "snap judgements" (it's been a year at this point...) and 2. it's a little bit late to be demonstrating her flaw right at the end of the year, especially given that we're meant to believe that she has gotten better since the beginning of the year. you really could not show me her being unfairly judgemental once in like episode three or whatever?

the writers have Eleanor be like "Simone's right, she should not have to deal with this, this is Brent's problem, not hers" because they're using her as the mouthpiece of The Moral here and don't want to be misinterpreted as saying that Simone ought to just grant Brent forgiveness (for things he's not even sorry for). which is fine, if heavy-handed (and also kind of out of left field, since the last time we heard Eleanor say anything about gender or race it was to racially fetishise Tahani and continue to financially support a man who had committed sexual assault, so it would have been nice to have seen how she went from there to being so progressive that a racist misogynist could be hand-picked to annoy her specifically. I mean I guess she remembered where Chidi was from? lol). but they're walking a fine line here between "Simone is too judgemental" and "no no we swear, Eleanor tone policing a Black woman was a mistake that the characters learned from, we're not endorsing that" and it would have provided a lot of clarity here to show Simone actually be wrong once or twice. or even for her to have assumed that Brent was awful before he had really demonstrated it. did I just miss that scene??

we're also told that. what's-his-name. the gossipy gay guy (which uh??? lol) improves, and we see some of that initial bonding with Tahani, but a scene here or there about him demonstrating changed behaviour (refusing to gossip about someone! leaving women and their fashion choices alone!!) would have really helped to drive this point home. instead, right at the end, we're shown him 1. revealing someone else's secret; and 2. continuing to rag on a woman for daring to wear the same pair of shorts every day. and yet we're told that he's improved significantly, so. I guess we have to believe that

I'm now on season 4 episode 8 of my rewatch btw

[sensconventional]

The first brutal death I remember is the Delhi case. I was just a person who just was against rape but weren't explaining and exploring the root causes most times. The dress blaming took me for years and it was these two three years, instagram and some feminists, unlearning, falling, crying, doubting that I actually started climbing steps of becoming a feminist. Hard it's, when a very flamboyant joking person is still the same but audits more.

Dress blaming can be defied by the large number of cases constituting the dependent population which always tend to wear clothes which mostly suit the societal norms. I'm still to understand, I say, but this is actually the first lesson.

Most convicted rapists could not remember what their victims were wearing.

While everything from attire to alcohol consumption is blamed when women are raped, military sexual assault statistics show that men in the military are at a slightly greater risk of sexual assault than women. Now either the three-piece military uniforms and combat boots are leading people astray — or clothing has nothing to do with what makes rapists assault people. The sad reality is that rapists choose to rape, often more than once, and studies show they are also often guilty of other violent crimes.

The cultural assumption that rape is something that can be prevented by behaving a certain way has never been extended to include male victims. While some of those assaults are characterized as hazing or bullying, the reality is that we don’t assume male victims are at fault for existing near a rapist.

When a news story breaks about an adult female teacher preying sexually on a boy, no one asks what he was wearing or insists he should have known better than to be alone with her. So what’s the point of policing skirt lengths, of advising young women not to go to certain places, to protect their drinks instead of focusing on telling rapists not to rape?

The anti-rape campaigns that are put forward on campuses, in the military and elsewhere focus on the idea that the only way a woman can be safe from sexual assault is to change her behavior, to change her attire, to never do anything that could potentially increase her risk of being a victim. There’s an assumption that rapists are just one of those unavoidable aspects of life, and the onus is on women, who make up 91 percent of victims, to insulate themselves.

If our culture insists on perpetuating the lie that clothing leads to rape, despite all evidence to the contrary, then the problem is our culture.

No article of clothing, no matter how revealing or “sexy,” is consent. Only a person can give consent regarding what happens or doesn't happen to their body. Using someone's clothing choice to determine their willingness to have sex says that someone else's assumptions hold more weight than the person's own voice.

Blaming silences victims.

Victim blaming allows people to believe that such events could never happen to them.

Dr Zobaiyda Nasreen says there was a time when women did not even wear blouses with saris and if the rate of sexual harassment was much lower back then, how could outfits be the reason behind rape then.

Now what I'm now writing is highly triggering and I advise you to leave this article here if you are mentally feeling unwell.

The case of Junko Furuta came to me through Instagram. There is a famous organization run by some young people. These guys aren't the 'self defence' or 'stop girl rapes' only people. I mean they don't confine their talks to those common topics one will raise when they hear rape. They talk not just about rape, but cyber attacks, cyber misogyny, various forms of patriarchy itself, fake allegations, bestiality etc. When they posted on Furuta, they put two trigger warnings. I might have felt an alert but I was curious. But what waited me there was the account of something which would haunt me at least for some moments that day. Re reading about it because I saw the post in my stories archive actually gave me an opportunity to think about abuse culture.

Junko Furuta was a Japanese sixteen or seventeen years old girl ( because both these ages are interchangeably found in many sources ) who faced unthinkable abuse including multiple rapes that you can't even imagine, malnourishing, marring organs, emotional blackmailing, trapping, sadism etc. The inauguration was by one of her classmates who initially offered her help and further did the thing in a remote warehouse and gave her death threats and brought the others later. The main culprits were minors, as I've already said that the first perpetrator was her own classmate. A 100 people raped her. Were all the 96 others pieces of shits? Didn't they even have some sense? These are common doubts of people including me. She was seen as a thing that should be destroyed by all means. Her abusers did whatever possible for that. She yearned for some love and one abuser will caress her and the next moment he'll pinch her new wound that he made on her leg by pouring gasoline. She faced foreign object entry, was made to eat cockroaches and drink her own urine, and was used as a punching bag by her perpetrators. The death threat I mentioned above was given to her because one of the four people had connections with Yakuza.

Here are the pictures of the four main accused. When we go for the uncensored pictures of these craps, Google can't give. Because the identities of the boys were sealed by the court as they were all juveniles at the time of the crime. Journalists from the Shūkan Bunshun (週刊文春) magazine discovered their identities, however, and published them. We should stick on to laws but these people prove that age doesn't matter and our laws are weak. Neither any of these are innocent. So I just edited their faces and got a rough pic like this.

As per the order, they're:

A. Hiroshi Miyano

B. Jo Kamisaku

C. Minato Nobuharo

D. Yasushi Watanabe

These can be name-surname or surname-name.

All these she had to suffer had a single reason- vengeance. Hiroshi Miyano was already a crap and approached Furuta several times because he had a crush on her. But she was a very diplomatic girl. She was a gem of students. She had a very good academic track(although academic excellence is always used to hurt other students), and apart from this, she was so friendly, nice, beautiful, and she was well brought up. She was a bold girl. She was the only hope of the financially insecure Furuta family. I'm not exaggerating facts. In fact all these are true. She was of course bold because it was Miyano who had the Yakuza connections and during his approach she always politely rejected the proposal even though all others feared him. She was caught, and was forced to fabricate things when she was said by them to call her parents- to tell them that she’d run away and is going to stay with a friend, but insist that she’s not in danger.

Parents of Nobuharu Minato in whose house Junko Furuta was kept visited their son on a few occasions. Still, under a threat of increased violence against her, Junko was requested to pretend that she was a girlfriend of one of the boys. However, even when it became apparent that she was a captive in the house, the parents did nothing for fear of retaliation from Miyano.

Ok. This is not the sympathy subplot of any Indian movie. This happened in 1989. From November 1988 to January 1989.

And her death was after a Mahjong solitaire. On 4 January 1989, after losing a game of mahjong against another person the night before, Miyano decided to vent his anger towards Furuta. In their anger, they poured lighter fluid ( probably gasoline ) onto her thighs, arms, face, and stomach and set her on fire once again.Furuta allegedly made attempts to put out the fire, but gradually became unresponsive. They continued to punch her, ignited a candle and dripped hot wax on her face, placed two short candles on her eyelids, called 'fake , fake' and forced her to drink her own urine. After she was kicked, she fell onto a stereo unit and collapsed into a fit of convulsions. She fell in to a shock. Since she was bleeding profusely, and pus was emerging from her infected burns, the four boys covered their hands in plastic bags. They continued to beat her and dropped an iron exercise ball onto her stomach several times. The attack reportedly lasted two hours. Furuta eventually succumbed to her wounds and died. Her convulsions were viewed by the boys as fake because 'she'd these movements everytime during the brutal rapes, although she would return to normal shortly' and thus they never thought of her death.

Less than 24 hours after her death, Minato's brother called to tell him that Furuta appeared to be dead. Afraid of being penalized for murder, the group wrapped her body in blankets and shoved her into a travel bag. They then put her body in a 55-US-gallon (210-litre) drum and filled it with wet concrete. Around 8:00 p.m., they loaded it and eventually disposed the drum into a cement truck in Kōtō, Tokyo. Law diluted the boys because they were minors then! Although they got with some other crimes, they never got a worthy punishment for Furuta.

For more details, only if you are mentally strong, please visit

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A similar case is of Sylvia Likens. A case of taking self esteem, slutshaming and whatever. I'll personally say that if belittling had a manifestation, this was that case. You could never read this too because you could again think how pitiable age juniors can be to their age seniors. She was sixteen. Crime location is Indianapolis. Image is from sylviasac.org , an organisation dedicated to her. Likens was increasingly neglected, belittled, sexually humiliated, beaten, starved, lacerated, and dehydrated by her tormentors. Her autopsy showed 150 wounds across her body, including several burns, scald marks and eroded skin. Through intimidation, her younger sister, Jenny, was occasionally forced to participate in her mistreatment. The official cause of her death was determined to be a homicide caused by a combination of subdural hematoma and shock, complicated by severe malnutrition.

Before leaving for a lengthy work-related trip and undergoing immense financial stress, Sylvia’s parents departed Lebanon and left her with a caregiver, Gertrude Baniszewski in Indianapolis. As a teenager, Sylvia babysat, hung out with friends, did chores and small jobs, loved the Beatles, and lived an otherwise typical life.

In the summer of 1965, Sylvia and her sisters moved into Baniszewski’s home at 3850 East New York Street. They continued to live as teenagers do, singing, skating, earning modest incomes during the summer break, and doing housework.

The financial hardship of Sylvia’s father continued, and payments to Baniszewski for boarding began to wane. Angry, Baniszewski began beating the children in the home across their buttocks. By August, the beatings exceeded a dozen a week, often for benign issues like eating too much food.

Soon, Baniszewski was focusing on Sylvia. Later testimony would reveal Sylvia was beaten and abused regularly after school and on weekends. She was deprived of food, and later still resorted to eating food out of garbage cans.

Her sisters and Baniszewski began turning on Sylvia, becoming bitter at her appearance and having claimed to have a boyfriend. She was accused of spreading rumors about Baniszewski, which was unfounded. The boyfriends of her sisters also began to turn on Sylvia.

By the end of the summer, Sylvia was being raped, verbally tormented, assaulted with objects physically and sexually, starved, beaten, burned, and forced to commit humiliating or heinous acts. Baniszewski eventually forbade her from attending school and she was held captive in the home.

The trial, testimony, and indictments were all jarring to everyone who read about the story. Baniszewski and others were punished and jailed for their crimes. In 1970, the Indiana Supreme Court reversed the convictions because the trial court refused motions for a change of venue and separate trial. A subsequent retrial led to a guilty plea. She was released in 1972, subsequently tried for murder again, and sentenced to life in prison. She changed her name and was paroled in 1985 and died five years later in relative obscurity from lung cancer in 1990.

The uproar of her case, media attention, release, and other crimes led to considerable changes. Sylvia’s case is credited with Indiana’s Mandated Reporter law, requiring everyone in Indiana regardless of age or profession to report any suspicion of child abuse to law enforcement.

Both these cases will have special places in crime history because the culprits were acquaintances of the victims. Now one can never say victim blaming. Rape is never a solution. Rape is rape regardless of reason. It notes degradation of humanity. Here it's not just rape but termination.