#but i will NEVER accept 'i don't want to get involved' or 'this has nothing to do with me so i do nothing'

[ceilidhtransing]

The discussions around whether or not to vote for Kamala keep being dominated by very loud voices shouting that anyone who advocates for her “just doesn't care about Palestine!” and “is willing to overlook genocide!” and “has no moral backbone at all!” And while some of these voices will be bots, trolls, psyops - we know that this happens; we know that trying to persuade progressives to split the vote or not vote at all is a strategy employed by hostile actors - of course many of them won't be. But what this rhetoric does is continually force the “you should vote for her” crowd onto the back foot of having to go to great lengths writing entire essays justifying their choice, while the “don't vote/vote third party” crowd is basically never asked to justify their choice. It frames voting for Kamala as a deeply morally compromised position that requires extensive justification while framing not voting or voting third party as the neutral and morally clean stance.

So here's another way of looking at it. How much are you willing to accept in order to feel like you're not compromising your morals on one issue?

Are you willing to accept the 24% rise in maternal deaths - and 39% increase for Black women - that is expected under a federal abortion ban, according to the Centre for American Progress? Those percentages represent real people who are alive now who would die if the folks behind Project 2025 get their way with reproductive healthcare.

Are you willing to accept the massive acceleration of climate change that would result from the scrapping of all climate legislation? We don't have time to fuck around with the environment. A gutting of climate policy and a prioritisation of fossil fuel profits, which is explicitly promised by Trump, would set the entire world back years - years that we don't have.

Are you willing to accept the classification of transgender visibility as inherently “pornographic” and thus the removal of trans people from public life? Are you willing to accept the total elimination of legal routes for gender-affirming care? The people behind the Trump campaign want to drive queer and trans people back underground, back into the closet, back into “criminality”. This will kill people. And it's maddening that caring about this gets called “prioritising white gays over brown people abroad” as if it's not BIPOC queer and trans Americans who will suffer the most from legislative queer- and transphobia, as they always do.

Are you willing to accept the domestic deployment of the military to crack down on protests and enforce racist immigration policy? I'm sure it's going to be very easy to convince huge numbers of normal people to turn up to protests and get involved in political organising when doing so may well involve facing down an army deployed by a hardcore authoritarian operating under the precedent that nothing he does as president can ever be illegal.

Are you willing to accept a president who openly talks about wanting to be a dictator, plans on massively expanding presidential powers, dehumanises his political enemies and wants the DOJ to “go after them”, and assures his supporters they won't have to vote again? If you can't see the danger of this staring you right in the face, I don't know what to tell you. Allowing a wannabe dictator to take control of the most powerful country on earth would be absolutely disastrous for the entire world.

Are you willing to accept an enormous uptick in fascism and far-right authoritarianism worldwide? The far right in America has huge influence over an entire international network of “anti-globalists”, hardcore anti-immigrant xenophobes, transphobic extremists, and straight-up fascists. Success in America aids and emboldens these people everywhere.

Are you willing to accept an enormous number of preventable deaths if America faces a crisis in the next four years: a public health emergency, a natural disaster, an ecological catastrophe? We all saw how Trump handled Hurricane Maria in Puerto Rico. We all saw how Trump handled Covid-19. He fanned the flames of disaster with a constant flow of medical misinformation and an unspeakably dangerous undermining of public health experts. It's estimated that 40% of US pandemic deaths could have been avoided if the death rates had corresponded to those in other high-income countries. That amounts to nearly half a million people. One study from January 2021 estimated between around 4,200 and 12,200 preventable deaths attributable purely to Trump's statements about masks. We're highly unlikely to face another global pandemic in the next few years but who knows what crises are coming down the pipeline?

Are you willing to accept the attempted deportation of millions - millions - of undocumented people? This is “rounding people up and throwing them into camps where no one ever hears from them again” territory. That's a blueprint for genocide right there and it's a core tenet of both Trump's personal policy and Project 2025. And of course they wouldn't be going after white people. They most likely wouldn't even restrict their tyranny to people who are actually undocumented. Anyone racially othered as an “immigrant” would be at risk from this.

Are you willing to accept not just the continuation of the current situation in Palestine, but the absolute annihilation of Gaza and the obliteration of any hope for imminent peace? There is no way that Trump and the people behind him would not be catastrophically worse for Gaza than Kamala or even Biden. Only recently he was telling donors behind closed doors that he wanted to “set the [Palestinian] movement back 25 or 30 years” and that “any student that protests, I throw them out of the country”. This is not a man who can be pushed in a direction more conducive to peace and justice. This is a man who listens to his wealthy donors, his Christian nationalist Republican allies, and himself.

Are you willing to accept a much heightened risk of nuclear war? Obviously this is hardly a Trump policy promise. But I can't think of a single president since the Cold War who is more likely to deploy nuclear weapons, given how casually he talks about wanting to use them and how erratic and unstable he can be in his dealings with foreign leaders. To quote Foreign Policy only this year, “Trump told a crowd in January that one of the reasons he needed immunity was so that he couldn’t be indicted for using nuclear weapons on a city.” That's reassuring. I'm not even in the US and I remember four years of constant background low-level terror that Trump would take offence at something some foreign leader said or think that he needs to personally intervene in some military situation to “sort it out” and decide to launch the entire world into nuclear war. No one sane on earth wants the most powerful person on the planet to be as trigger-happy and careless with human life as he is, especially if he's running the White House like a dictator with no one ever telling him no. But depending on what Americans do in November, he may well be inflicted again on all of us, and I guess we'll all just have to hope that he doesn't do the worst thing imaginable.

“But I don't want those things! Stop accusing me of supporting things I don't support!” Yes, of course you don't want those things. None of us does. No one's saying that you actively support them. No one's accusing you of wanting Black women to die from ectopic pregnancies or of wanting to throw Hispanic people in immigrant detention centres or of wanting trans people to be outlawed (unlike, I must point out, the extremely emotive and personal accusations that get thrown around about “wanting Palestinian children to die” if you encourage people to vote for Kamala).

But if you're advocating against voting for Kamala, you are clearly willing to accept them as possible consequences of your actions. That is the deal you're making. If a terrible thing happening is the clear and easily foreseeable outcome of your action (or in the case of not voting, inaction), in a way that could have been prevented by taking a different and just as easy action, you are partly responsible for that consequence. (And no, it's not “a fear campaign” to warn people about things he's said, things he wants to do, and plans drawn up by his close allies. This is not “oooh the Democrats are trying to bully you into voting for them by making him out to be really bad so you'll feel scared and vote for Kamala!” He is really bad, in obvious and documented and irrefutable ways.)

And if you believe that “both parties are the same on Gaza” (which, you know, they really aren't, but let's just pretend that they are) then presumably you accept that the horrors being committed there will continue, in the immediate term anyway, regardless of who wins the presidency. Because there really isn't some third option that will appear and do everything we want. It's going to be one of those two. And we can talk all day about wanting a better system or how unfair it is that every presidential election only ever has two viable candidates and how small the Overton window is and all that but hell, we are less than eighty days out from the election; none of that is going to get fixed between now and November. Electoral reform is a long-term (but important!) goal, not something that can be effected in the span of a couple of months by telling people online to vote third party. There is no “instant ceasefire and peace negotiation” button that we're callously overlooking by encouraging people to vote for Kamala. (My god, if there was, we would all be pressing it.)

If we're suggesting people vote for her, it's not that we “are willing to overlook genocide” or “don't care about sacrificing brown people abroad” or whatever. Nothing is being “overlooked” here. It's that we're simply not willing to accept everything else in this post and more on top of continued atrocities in Gaza. We're not willing to take Trump and his godawful far-right authoritarian agenda as an acceptable consequence of feeling like we have the moral high ground on Palestine. I cannot stress enough that if Kamala doesn't win, we - we all, in the whole world - get Trump. Are you willing to accept that?

And one more point to address: I've seen too many people act frighteningly flippant and naïve about terrible things Trump or his campaign want to do, with the idea that people will simply be able to prevent all these bad things by “organising” and “protesting” and “collective action”. “I'm not willing to accept these things; that's why I'll fight them tooth and nail every day of their administration” - OK but if you're not even willing to cast a vote then I have doubts about your ability to form “the Resistance”, which by the way would have to involve cooperation with people of lots of progressive political stripes in order to have the manpower to be effective, and if you're so committed to political purity that you view temporarily lending your support to Kamala at the ballot box as an untenable betrayal of everything you stand for then forgive me for also doubting your ability to productively cooperate with allies on the ground with whom you don't 100% agree. Plus, if the Trump campaign gets its way, American progressives would be kept so busy trying to put out about twenty different fires at once that you'd be able to accomplish very little. Maybe you get them to soften their stance on trans healthcare but oh shit, the climate policies are still in place. But more importantly, how many people do you think will protest for abortion rights if doing so means staring down a gun? Or organise to protect their neighbours from deportation if doing so means being thrown in prison yourself? And OK, maybe you're sure that you will, but history has shown us time and time again that most people won't. Most people aren't willing to face that kind of personal risk. And a tiny number of lefties willing to risk incarceration or death to protect undocumented people or trans people or whatever other groups are targeted is sadly not enough to prevent the horrors from happening. That is small fry compared to the full might of a determined state. Of course if the worst happens and Trump wins then you should do what you can to mitigate the harm; I'm not saying you shouldn't. But really the time to act is now. You have an opportunity right here to mitigate the harm and it's called “not letting him get elected”. Act now to prevent that kind of horrific authoritarian situation from developing in the first place; don't sit this one out under the naïve belief that ��we'll be able to stop it if it happens”. You won't.

[moonlight-records]

Rich Boys Don't Have Hearts | LN4

pairing: Jock!Lando Norris x Nerd!Reader

summary: Formula Ivy Academy, or FIA for short, is the most renowned private in the world who takes such a select few. Usually those from wealth with status and secrets and so much to lose. Yet, you are selected to join the FIA on a full scholarship. You have nothing to lose and everything to gain scares a lot students, especially their star athlete who will do anything to protect those he cares about. Though, he didn't expect you to have as much of a...bite to you for a little nobody.

warning: cursing, bribery, jealously, angst (ig???), possessive!lando maybe??? def ooc Lando at points i know it, leclerc & reeader are besties, open ending??? maybe???

fc: none!

wc: 4.4K

current | part 2 | part 3

Formula Ivy Academy was the most renowned private school tucked away in Monaco for the brightest people. Whether that was inventors, politicians, artists, thinkers, or athletes was anybody’s guess since FIA was very hush hush about what happens behind their walls. Which, in theory, should be the first sign not to get involved with a school like that. With the amount of money, fame, and reputation of how secretive this academy was, why the hell would anybody want to go there?

Well, anybody who wanted to be anybody, obviously.

Everybody and anybody tried to get in. Thousands of applications went in every semester. Most applications that were submitted were from those that came from wealth that expanded to celebrities and even royalty applied and were rejected.

The rest of the world only dreamed of going there and some had the balls to apply though they knew that they would be rejected. They didn’t have the funds to cover even a quarter of the tuition cost. The only way most people would be able to get in was on a full ride scholarship and according to rumors, full ride scholarships to FIA was like winning the lottery. A one in a million chance for most people. It seemed that FIA was painfully selective about who they let in.

Yet, you were that one in a million person who got accepted into FIA with a full ride.

“Who is she?”

“I think that’s the new girl.”

“Really? She’s really pretty, how come she’s never been here before?”

“Rumor is she’s not from wealth.”

A few gasps erupted, “What?! How did she get in?”

“Full. Ride.” There were some murmurs, “apparently she was valedictorian at her high school and she applied and the school was impressed. She has to keep her GPA at least a 3.5 to keep her scholarship and,” there was a pause and throat cleaning, “she needs it if she’s going to stay.”

You roll your eyes hearing these girls before shaking your head. Casting your gaze at them the group quickly realized that they were talking much louder than attended and quickly scattered. You sigh softly while shaking your head because it was tiring.

You’ve been listening to the whispers and murmurs about yourself for almost a month straight since moving into the dorms back in August. The only places you found peace was in your dorm, since FIA had been so nice to accommodate you with a single room dorm so you can avoid that whole roommate thing, and the vast walls of the library but alas, instead you found yourself walking through campus as more people look and whisper.

You’re cutting through the green to get to your dorm building when a larger pair of Jordan clad feet fell into step besides yours. The pace was deliberate and rhythmic to match yours. You didn’t have to look over to know who it was. You stayed silent and forced your neck to look the other way though it’s no use. Everyone is looking at you and the new found walking partner though when you met their gaze they looked away. You let out a silent huff before craning your neck like a flower turning to the sun but the sun was actually the most annoying boy to ever roam campus who was 1 of FIA’s 20 star athletes and apparently, you’re upstairs neighbor that you try to avoid the best you can. He’s smiling, curly hair unruly, green and white jersey with his lucky ‘4’ on the front and his iconic gray sweatpants.

“Well, if it isn’t ‘Miss Popular’. You know I was getting a bit worried that you had already left before I got the chance to really know you.”

“First off, don’t call me ‘Miss Popular’ because I’m not,” you roll your eyes, “second you can’t get me to leave that fast. I’m sure the whispers and rumors about me are going to die down rather fast considering I think people are realizing that there really isn’t a lot going for me.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I don’t have wealth like that nor do I care. I’m here to get my degree, make connections, and get a head start on my career and I plan to make sure that happens,” you glance at Lando then forward again, “There’s not much to me.” You shrug as you enter the building and you head down your hall towards your room.

“Bullshit.”

You scoff and look over at Lando, “excuse me?”

“I said bullshit. I don’t think that’s the real reason you’re here.” Lando stares down at you, “I doubt you’re just some random insanely smart person who got in with an amazing application. Celebrities and even royalties themselves get rejected but they let you in? Full ride? Just because they like you?” He scoffs. “But fine. Let’s go with that story but I highly fucking doubt that you’re going to keep your head down and just mind your business for the next four years. There’s a lot that happens here at FIA, a lot that would be rather dangerous if it got out. A lot of reputations on the line.” Holding out a stack of cash, “Maybe it would be for the best if you left, don’t you think?”

You stare at Lando in disbelief. Lando’s known as one of the friendliest athletes on campus. He’s always smiling and laughing and making everyone feel welcomed. Even you, the rare times you spoke before this moment but it became crystal clear in this moment that it was nothing more than a ruse to bribe you out of this school and this life. For what? Protecting the students' reputations? You could care less about your classmates and what they do in their spare time. It was none of your business and honestly you probably would forget about most of them and any scandalizing thing they do now.

But Lando wouldn’t believe that and it upset you more because it made sense. You were a nobody who got accepted into the most renowned school that was super selective. Everyone here had three things: money, power, and secrets. You have none of those. You are just a simple person with a simple life that really just wanted to further your education and make a better life for yourself so you didn’t have to worry when you grew older. Pay your parents back for all the sacrifices they made for you. Give back to your friends who saved you when you were drowning…or jumped in so you weren’t drowning alone. Unlike everyone else who had everything to lose and nothing really to gain, you had nothing to lose and everything to gain.

You stare at the stack of cash in Lando’s hand trying to mentally count how much was there, “How much—”

“100,000 in USD,” Lando finishes, “more than enough for you I’m sure. Unless you want me to just pay for whatever school you transfer to, I can do that as well.”

“No, no, the cash is fine—”

Lando smiles wider, “I th—”

You reach out for the money before slamming your hand down. The bills go everywhere as they fall from Lando’s hand and the Brit is stunned. His eyes widen as he stares at you in pure shock before his face darkens.

“IF I was shallow and had no self respect,” you snap back, “how dare you try to bribe me? You probably wouldn’t believe this but I actually do not give a single care about you or any other student on this campus. All you guys care about is your fame, your wealth, and the carefree lifestyles that you all get to have. Unlike you all, I actually have to work for my shit and I will continue doing that. I don’t have time to collect evidence of all these scandals and sell them to news outlets. Besides, I need connections so the last thing I want to do is ruin that chance by breaking the number one unofficial rule of FIA which is what happens within FIA walls stays within FIA walls. What do you take me for? A shallow tool?” Looking Lando up and down, you sneer slightly, “You know what you can do for me, Lando?”

“What?” The Brit snaps.

“You can take your cash and shove it up your fucking ass right along with the lacrosse stick that’s been wedge up there,” you give him a mocking smile, “have the day you deserve.” You turn, flipping Lando off as you continue down the hall before going into your dorm, slamming it behind you. Finally, tears spill past and you clamp a hand around your mouth to silence your cries. You stumble to your bed, vision blurry before crumbling against it, hiding your face into your comfort, sobbing as the weight of Lando’s words settles.

Nobody wants you here. Nobody trusts you nor likes you. To them, you’re nothing more than an outsider who was going to ruin all their reputations. Obviously, someone like you just could not be here to further your education and take this chance to connect and get a huge head start down your career path. That was all just some ruse to really make a quick buck off the rich and their bullshit drama. That you will never be accepted by them and you should quit while you’re ahead. Another sob rips out of your throat as you bury your face further, body shaking, trying so hard to will yourself to stop crying but it was so hard as a month worth of worry and pains had manifested as the cold hard truth and the reality was heartbreaking.

Then it dawned on you. It wasn’t bullshit. What was bullshit was the fact Lando thought you were so shallow. Actually, it was bullshit the entire campus thought you were that shallow. Are they so self absorbed that they really assumed you had applied just to expose what goes on behind the walls of FIA? God, you needed money but you weren’t that desperate for money. Unlike them, you actually gave a fuck about what you wanted to do in life. Especially because you were happily picking something that wouldn’t be destroyed so easily by mere rumors or a single photo to destroy your entire reputation. You didn’t care how much you got to gain to expose all of them, especially Lando after that lovely chat, because that’s what they expected of you. Instead, you were going to completely ignore them. Prove them wrong. Prove Lando wrong.

Settling, you sit there for a bit before slowly lifting your head. You ignore the oncoming headache or the fact your face is wet and puffy. You sniffle softly before patting yourself down and pull your phone out with slightly shaky hands. Arthur Leclerc was a rare friend you had. Well, you assume anyway but now you weren’t sure as you text him.

Do you hate me?-YN

Y/N, how many times do I have to tell you that I don’t hate you. Nor does Mick, Ollie, Kimi, or Charlie.-AL

Well, Lando just tried to give me 100K in USD to get me to leave the school since everyone hates me and nobody trusts me and that I’m here to expose everyone for money and not for my education and to get a head start of my career.-YN

…He fucking did what?-AL

Yeah.-YN

Oh my god. I’m going to punch him at practice. Actually, I have piano so I won’t be at practice—I’ll have Charlie do it. No, he won’t—Kimi will-AL

No-YN

Don’t ‘no’ me! Y/N! You just told me that Lando bribed you because the rest of the school doesn’t trust you for some stupid fucking reason! Also, I know that you were actually warming up to Lando for this to be the reason? Oh god I should tell the couch! I’m going to tell coach—AL

No. No, I don’t need any more issues than already. I just…I just need reassure that you actually like for who I am-YN

Of course I do Y/N. Me, Charlie, Mick, Ollie. We adore you. You’re a breath of fresh air to us, really. You remind us that not everyone is stuck up and snooty and loves to be careless and wild because money and fame will save them. You remind us to slow down and enjoy the moments. You remind us to do things that we love even if nobody else cares because we enjoy the things we love. I promise, we wouldn’t trade you for anything in the world.AL

Arthur…that’s so sweet I might cry again but I won’t.-YN

It’s okay to cry!! I can come over with ice cream and blankets for cuddles-AL

No no, it’s fine. I don’t think I have any tears left. I kind of let out a month’s worth of sadness just out, so, I’m good but I might take you up on the offer for ice cream and blankets after your piano practice-YN

Okay, yeah. God Y/N. I’m so sorry this happened to you.-AL

It’s fine. I’m kind of upset Lando did this privately because the look of shock on his face when I smacked the money out of his hand was priceless.-YN

You WHAT?! Oh my god! You didn’t tell me that!!!-AL

Yeah well, I’m done being sad. I’m angry now.-YN

Anyway, yeah he basically found me. Walked me to the dorms asking if I was avoiding him and stuff. I had said that I just wanna focus on my education and get a jump start at my career and he literally was like ‘bullshit’. I was like ummm what?? Yeah so he goes on about how im a threat and all this—me, the nobody but whatever—and he was giving me cash or offering to pay the tuition of the school I would transfer to in full if it meant leaving since I’m just a wee peasant who’s only here to gossip and get paid by the news and get the school shut down. So I was like, “oh no the cash is fine”…-YN

Oh my god. What did he say?-AL

Oh he was gonna go on that I was making the right choice before I smack the money out of his hand. Man he was pissed-YN

I could imagine.-AL

Arthur, when I tell you watching his face darken out of anger was—kinda scary. Though mama ain’t raised a bitch so. I went off about how I can’t believe he thinks I’m shallow and that I truly could care less about my classmates and that I need these connections so why would I risk losing those connections by outing everyone, ya know???-YN

Oh I know.-AL

Thank you! So then I was like “you know what you can do for me” and he was like “what?!” all snappy and shit. I told him he can pick his money up and shove it right up his ass along with his lacrosse stick and have the day he deserves and the I flipped him off as I left…then I broke down and cried and now we’re here-YN

I AM SO PROUD OF YOU FOR THAT!!! AS YOU SHOULD! Oh my god, I am buying you dinner for that because that is amazing. Also, Lando can go fuck himself and I will personally make sure it happens at practice.-AL

Arthur!-YN

It’s fine! I already laid out that Charles is just to make Lando go a bit insane. No physical harm, all mental.-AL

…Fine. Only because there’s no way I can convince either of you to not do anything-YN

You’re learning! Okay, I have to run but I will see you later tonight. You don’t have to, considering how news gets out around here but, Charlie would like to see you at some point just to make sure you’re okay so, just show a sign of life to him? Please? I’ll cover the ice-cream if you do-AL

I will, promise.-YN

Alright, see you see y/n!-AL

You too, Arthur.-YN

It’s only been 20 minutes since your conversation with Arthur and you really didn’t want to leave your dorm let alone the field after everything that happened. You had finally found the energy to climb into bed curled up under the comfort while staring at the wall before frowning. You know that if you didn’t Charles would go insane with worry and blow up both your phone and Arthur’s and you really didn’t want to upset the only rare few people in your corner. Sighing, you force yourself out of your bed and go through your closet.

The school had uniforms that students must wear to classes. Outside of classes, students were free to wear whatever they wanted and you chose a baggy hoodie with a t-shirt underneath and fuzzy pajama pants that had snoopy all over them. Sliding your crocs on, you grabbed your keys, phone, headphones, and lanyard with your ID before heading out of your dorm and to the field. Putting your headphones on, you gently bobbed your head to the beat of the music as you crossed the green towards the field. Seeing the empty bleachers, you make your way up the ramp as you look out at the field.

There were the two lacrosse nets at the opposite ends of the field. The boys were lingering around the benches as they all chatted among themselves with five minutes to spare in this break. You scan among them, thankful that none of them spotted you. Expect the one that was sitting on the bench away, staring at a small group down. You saw the ‘16’ on the jersey and knew exactly who it was. You straightened up slightly when the player turned and saw you before lighting up like a child on Christmas and scrambling over to you, almost tripping over his own two feet.

“Mon chérie, there you are. I was worried you weren’t going to show that I was about to start calling for a sign of life,” Charles grins as he stands below the bleachers laughing softly. You can’t help the small smile that appears on your face as you lean over the edge of the bleachers looking down at Charles.

“Sorry, I was just—gathering myself.”

“I could imagine,” Charles frowns. “I truly am sorry that happened to you,” Charles whispers. “Just say the words and I will tell the coach or I can punch him. Really, I am angry enough to go through with it.”

“No you don’t have to punch him or tell coach,” you reassure Charles, “I think me slapping the money out of his hand, telling him off, telling him to shove the money up his ass, and flipping him off while telling him to have the day he deserves is probably enough.” You smile, “besides, I have no plans on transferring at all. Especially not after this. Him having to see my face should be enough of a hell for him.”

Charles laughs breathlessly while smiling up at you, “You truly are something else Y/N.” He grins while shaking his head, “Arthur mentioned something about ice-cream and blankets?” He questions.

You go to answer but feel someone just staring at you. Casting your gaze up you lock eyes with the sea green eyes staring at you. It seems that you and Lando are in a stare off that neither of you intend to lose but you only forfeit when you hear Charles scoff below you. “Charles,” you murmur softly and Charles looks up at you, a slight pout on his face, “please be nice so you can join Arthur and I and probably the others for ice-cream and cuddles. That’s what we mean by blankets.”

Charles gasps softly, “and I can join?!”

“If,” you start, “you leave Lando alone.”

Charles narrows his eyes at you and weighs his options, “okay, deal.”

“Leclerc!” Lando shouts, voice clipped, “lets go! No more talking!”

“Duty calls,” Charles murmurs and you shake your head, murmuring to Charles that it’ll be fine. You sit in the stands and switch between watching the practice and looking at your phone. You stand up when the coach blows the whistle to have the team come in to wrap practice up. You make your way off the bleachers and linger at the entrance of track as the team all heads to the bench to gather their things. You watch Charles swiftly grab his water bottle and bag before making his way over to you.

“You did it!” You applaud happily, “you survived practice and didn’t kill him.”

“I know, I know. Took a lot of self control,” Charles murmurs as he steps closer, “I’m pretty sure he was targeting me after seeing me talk to you. The audacity of him, can you believe that?”

“I could, sadly,” you roll your eyes, “he’s an ass. Just ignore him. Why don’t you get change and I’ll wait here and we can then head back to my dorm together?” You offer, “Arthur said he’d bring the ice-cream and Mick would bring the blankets.”

“Okay, I’ll be right out!” Charles says and is off.

You watch him leave and smile slightly before looking away and nearly jumping at Lando who just spawns in front of you. You look up at the Brit and all the emotions from early claw at your throat for an escape. You want to scream. You want to cry. You want to curse him out. You want to ask him why. There are so many questions in your head and you know that no matter what, you won’t get any answers so you settle for this stare off with Lando, even if your neck gets a cramp.

The silence is finally broken by Lando, “What were you talking to Charles about?” His voice is cold and icy. It almost seems uncharacteristic of the Brit but then again, he was full of surprises!

“None of your business.”

“I think it is my business since he’s a teammate of mine and I am also co-captain, so,” he lets his voice trail off as if indicating his importance, “kind of my responsibility to make sure our players are accounted for and safe.”

“Oh? Is it because he’s with me? Cause if you were really concerned, I doubt you nor Max would really be okay with the heavy partying that happens. Then again you two would be hypocritical.” You retort.

That strikes a nerve. He clenches his jaw and stares down at you in anger though he stays silent because he can’t really argue with you. Instead, Lando takes a deep breath while glaring, “well, is coming back to your dorm?”

“Why do you care?”

'“Cause I really don’t need you being so fucking loud and distracting me.”

“Seriously? You’re rarely in your room. When you are, you’re doing anything but homework. The only thing I might give a damn about is your streams for the poor people that watch you.” Crossing your arms over your chest, “but if you need to know since apparently hell has frozen over with you doing homework, I am having a few guests over and Charles is one.”

“Who else?”

“You don’t get names,” you snap. “First off, it’s not your business. Second, you don’t care because I’m just a nobody who’s here to gather intel and sell the secrets and make so money and get the school shut down instead of learning more and making connections and wanting a better future for myself since I’m not privileged like that,” you mock before scowling at him, “you think I’m dumb? No way am I giving out the names of the few genuine friends I have here.”

Lando goes to argue before Charles cuts in, loud and clear, “Oh mon chérie!” Charles stops next to you and glares at Lando who glares back at you, “Oh. Am I interrupting something?”

“Yes. You are.”

“No, you’re fine.”

You and Lando stare at each other before you turn to Charles who slings an arm over your shoulder, “Ready to go then?” Charles asks you, smiling and you nod. “I am.”

“Well. Have a good evening, Lando,” Charles tells him as you just turn and start walking off, leading Charles with you.

Your gut twists and you can’t help yourself even with Charles talking your ear off since you stopped so Charles could tie his shoe. You’re about to look back at Lando until Charles tells some stupid story which gets you to laugh loudly and you nudge Charles when he stands saying that it was a good story.

You hear a thud or something which gets you to turn.

Lando is standing there holding with his head of the lacrosse stick now snapped off. He’s got Max and Oscar on either side of him both concerned and worried while trying to talk to him but Lando is staring at Charles as if he’s trying to strike Charles down mentally before finally looking at you before. He stares at you for a moment before looking at Charles and scowling before turning sharply and heading to the locker room with Max and Oscar trying to figure out what the hell just happened before following Lando.

You stand there watching the trio head off. Your eyes fall on the broken lacrosse stick head. You can’t wrap your head around why Lando was so determined to figure out who was hanging out with you. Was it to turn the little friends against you? Was he just upset that you weren’t bending to his will and made a fool of him earlier today? Why was he like this

“Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“Are you okay?” Charles asks softly.

“Yeah, yeah,” you shake your head and smile, “I’m okay. Just…distracted, that’s all. Come on! I’ll race you,” you start and take off, giving yourself a head start as Charles is cursing and scrambling after you.

Even if Lando wanted you to leave and threw the world’s biggest tantrum as it seemed, you were quite comfortable staying here since you added a new life goal to your plans. It was a very simple life goal.

Make Lando’s regret trying to bribe you.

[justdiptych]

There's a scene in Fallout: New Vegas that I find really interesting in how it uses skill checks in dialogue. A merchant company, the Crimson Caravan, want to buy out one of their rivals, Cassidy Caravans, and they hire the player character to negotiate the deal. The player has likely already met the rival company's owner, Rose of Sharon Cassidy, by this point - in fact, it's entirely possible that she suggested they ask the Crimson Caravan for work in the first place.

Cass is propping up the bar at a truck stop on the border near the game's opening area. She's heard that her caravan has been destroyed in her absence - her employees killed and their wagons burned in an attack on the road - but she can't investigate because of a bureaucratic hold-up. The man in charge of the border post, Ranger Jackson, has halted all commercial traffic across the border because of dangers on the roads - wild animals, bandits, and enemy soldiers - that the authorities are struggling to get under control.

When the player brings the Crimson Caravan's offer to Cass, she refuses on principle. Her business may have effectively been destroyed, but she's too proud and too stubborn to sell her surname for any number of messes of pottage. Convincing her requires that the player employs one of either their Speech or Barter skills - there are two options for each, requiring either moderate or high investments of skill points. Skill and Barter are the game's two Charisma-based skills, and it's not uncommon for them to appear side-by-side like this, but here, they diverge in application.

The easier Speech option is simple - the player just reminds Cass that, if she sells the business, she won't be commercial traffic anymore, so she'll be able to get across the border. She's itching to get on the road again, so this convinces her. (She will ask the player to help Jackson clear the roads for the benefit of her fellow merchants, but this is a very simple quest that they likely already completed hours ago.)

The more challenging Speech check is to tell Cass that there's no way her business can survive, so it's her duty to do the merciful thing - shoot it in the head, bury it, and move on with her life. This, naturally, brings her close to socking the player in the jaw, but she sees the truth in it. She's been holding onto the forlorn hope that there might be something left to save, but she really has lost everything. This bypasses Jackson's quest - she just wants to walk out and not look back.

The Barter options approach things differently - from the Speech options, and from each other. The more challenging one involves making some sport of the offer, challenging Cass to a drinking contest. The player has to supply the booze, and they run the risk of getting embarrassingly drunk if their Endurance stat is too low, but, either way, this will impress Cass enough that she'll sign the contract.

The easier Barter option, though, is, I think, the most interesting. It requires the player to sweeten the deal with their own money - a not insubstantial amount of it, in fact. Cass is still hesitant, though, which allows the player to make a very interesting point. With the money from the Crimson Caravan plus the player's contribution, she'd have enough to restart her business - buy new animals and equipment, hire a new crew, start trading again.

Further, the player can point out that the Crimson Caravan are unlikely to continue using the 'Cassidy Caravans' name after buying it. They're only buying her out to try to monopolise local trade, after all. If they don't use the name, they'll forfeit their rights to it - meaning that Cass can, as she puts it, take their money, give them nothing, and go back to running her business as if the attack never happened.

Cass, naturally, accepts this offer, though she's staggered that the player is so willing to sell out their employers to help her like this. (The player needn't feel any moral misgivings about doing so. A little investigation reveals that the attack on Cass's business was actually engineered by the Crimson Caravan themselves, in collusion with a crime family, in a conspiracy to wipe out their competition.)

I think this entire interaction represents how well New Vegas uses skill checks. Barter, in RPGs, is often a very barebones skill. Its use is letting the player earn more and spend less - as part of an equation determining shop prices, or in dialogue options that boil down to asking for money. It's not uncommon for Speech to be the skill of the peaceful, benevolent diplomat, while Barter is for common mercenaries.

Here, though, the Barter options actually cost more than their Speech equivalents. The player ends up out of pocket for a sizable chunk of change or at least a lot of booze. Instead, the Barter skill represents the character's understanding of common business practices and relevant laws. It allows them to convince Cass to accept a deal by finding a loophole that benefits her more than if she refused.

The equivalent Speech options, meanwhile, are effectively free, but do involve making Cass feel that little bit worse. They emphasise what she's lost, how trapped she is by her circumstances, and convince her to give up and let the Crimson Caravan win. In the long run, this doesn't make a real difference - once she leaves the outpost, she and the player can discover the conspiracy and get their revenge either way - but I think the choice does let the player say something about their character.

Part of the brilliance of this game is how little details, like Cass being stuck at the outpost, tie into other details all across the story. Caravan traffic is halted, in part, because deathclaws have nested near the roads to the north. They've nested there because the local quarry has ceased operations - the noise caused by the digging and blasting had previously scared them off.

The quarry closed down because escaped convicts raided it and stole the workers' stash of mining explosives. The convicts escaped because the government was using them for forced labour on the railroads, and foolishly entrusted them with enough dynamite to stage an uprising, seize control of the prison, and turn it into a fortress and a base of operations for banditry.

Similarly, the threads of Cass's story spread outwards, ultimately affecting the entire future of New California. When she learns that the Crimson Caravan and their allies killed her friends, Cass is furious. She wants to march over there and beat the snot out of the people responsible. The player can convince her to instead settle things legally - get proof of their crimes, pass them on to Ranger Jackson, and hope the justice system gets revenge for her.

If Cass does things her way, the criminals pay with their lives, but their bosses end up better off for it. With their regional execs murdered, the trading companies can claim that the government isn't doing enough to protect them - so, they don't have to support the government's interests, either. They withdraw trade, demand special treatment, and end up making their shortfall everyone's problem.

If the legal option is pursued, though, the evidence becomes blackmail material. The government has the trading companies over a barrel, and that lets them pass stricter trade laws. Given the choice of accepting regulation or facing criminal investigation, the crooked execs choose to stay out of jail. Those responsible for the murders technically avoid justice, but their hopes of a monopoly are dashed - and their superiors are unlikely to be pleased with them having hurt long-term profits so badly.

Cass's story is political and economical all the way through. It's about the influence of wealth on government, and the fundamental injustices of the carceral system. It's about revenge, and reform, and how to hit people where it hurts - their bottom line. And it's about how, sometimes, skills in an RPG aren't about making numbers go up - they're about how a character understands the world around them, and how they can apply that understanding to help someone out of a jam, or help reshape the trade lines of a whole nation.

[suksatoru]

002. CARNATIONS

Touya wasn't fitting in very well.

There were a lot of things you noticed about him during his first week. He didn't talk much - he'd sit in silence a lot more than he should. It was bad. He was spending too much time with his own thoughts - and you were becoming afraid that he would end up swimming too far into his own mind where drowning would only be inevitable.

He didn't eat much either. Only when he absolutely needed to - and he'd take a few bites before stubbornly pushing his plate away. It was hard trying to get him to talk to you too, because he simply refused to cooperate.

There was this faraway look in his eyes. Like he couldn't believe what his life had come to. He had so many plans - so many things to do. They were all hopeless now. He had an entirely new checklist- and he couldn't even be bothered to pick it up. Was it bad that he had no will to live?

Touya didn't understand why his father wanted him alive. He hadn't seen him since the war, only hearing his name whispered amongst the doctors when they thought he was asleep. Touya truly didn't see the purpose of his family fighting so much for him - he was falling apart. Both mentally and physically, straining the doctors for no reason when he should just die. He'd done terrible things, and in his mind, he deserved death.

"He won't listen to anyone besides you."

You blow out a breath of air with a nervous chuckle, shifting your weight from one foot to the other as you look up at your supervisor. She looked mad. Her brow was ticked upwards, a wrinkly finger holding up a sheet of paper that had 'Todoroki' scribbled at the top. His latest speech evaluation report.

"He can talk just fine with the insults he was spitting at the other doctors. That man has a foul mouth, and an even fouler mood. No doctor that comes even within five feet of him is spared his horrible remarks and glares. But in all of your reports, you never once mentioned him saying anything exceptionally rude. He's... quiet around you."

Your brows pinch together as your gaze stays on the report in your hands

Touya was confusing you.

"And I understand you have other patients, but they've all progressed nicely with their treatments. Todoroki - well, he is a special case."

You were being asked to accept the job of having Touya as your sole patient. You knew his condition was bad - but you didn't think it was this bad. The other doctors had all come to the same conclusion, that he was in desperate need of a single support system. Someone who could help him every step of the way - and they had made a unanimous vote for you to be that person.

You accepted. You thought you'd have to think more about the proposal, but...

"Touya, do you like board games?"

For the first time this entire evening, his eyes lift from the tiled floor he'd been glaring at as he turns to you with a look of disinterest. You try not to let him see the way you're fighting back a smile when he finally speaks for the first time this afternoon

"I haven't played one since I was a kid. I don't even remember how they work."

"That's ok - I can teach you!"

He looks out the window, gently rolling his shoulders as the muscles under his hospital gown shift from the movement

"Why? Just sounds like a waste of time to me." He says, his voice gruff as you gently drag your chair closer to his bed

"Well, some of these games involve some brain work. Don't you think it'd be a nice challenge to try and work them out? We can even-"

"No."

You pause when he interrupts you, folding your hands in your lap as you patiently wait for him to continue. Your smile falters when he starts staring again, his eyes opening a little more to watch you as he remains silent and still - not elaborating any further.

"Ok-"

"Call Endeavor."

You pause, trying not to show your surprise as you quickly close your parted lips when you meet his gaze.

Nothing. His eyes were devoid of even a speck of emotion as he stared at you. If it hadn't been for him moving to run a tired hand through his white locks, you would've thought he was dead. That is just how dull his eyes looked.

"Well... let's talk about this first, okay? Why would you like to call him, Touya?" You ask softly, moving to grab his hand like you'd do to comfort any other patient before your fingers awkwardly hover over his hand

Touya did not like to be touched.

He narrows his eyes at you with an annoyed sigh before he looks away again, clearing his throat before speaking

"I need to do something."

You frown, taking a quick glance at the emergency phone across the room. There were a few contacts Touya would be allowed to call - one of them was, unfortunately, Endeavor's.

"Are you sure you'd like to call your father-"

"Don't fucking call him that."

You freeze, a chill running down your spine that feels like being dowsed in ice water when he snaps at you. His eyes burn to life, the hatred in them so strong that you can't even bring yourself to look at him as you realize you'd crossed some sort of an invisible line.

"I- okay, I'm sorry. Do you not like it when I address him as that?"

His silence was all the answer you needed.

Maybe it was your guilt that had you hesitantly reaching for the phone. You power it on - and you can see the poorly hidden surprise on his face when he quirks an eyebrow, surprised you were fulfilling his request.

He almost feels bad for what he's about to do. Almost.

"I'll hold the phone up to your ear, Touya. Let me know if I'm too close, ok?" You ask gently, and he nods his head with a grunt. He's not staring anymore - he's actually avoiding your eyes. Maybe you should've taken that as a sign that something was wrong, but you were too busy trying to understand what was going through his mind that made him want to call his father so out of the blue.

You pray silently that Endeavor won't answer - but the phone is barely on the third ring before it cackles to life

"Touya? Touya this is your number calling me - Touya are you there?"

The air is tense with your anticipation - could this mean progress? Barely two weeks in seemed a little early, but you sent Touya an encouraging smile anyways.

That was the last thing he needed to give him the courage to open his mouth

"Fuck you Endeavor! Burn in hell you flaming piece of shit!"

Your yelp doesn't surprise Touya at all as you hastily end the call, fumbling with the phone as he kneels over and grasps the railings of his bed - before he laughs.

It hurts so much to smile, but he does it anyway - his laughter is a hoarse wheeze as his chest shakes. You power the phone off with trembling hands before whipping towards him

"Touya- y-you tricked me!" You sputter, clutching the phone to your chest as he struggles to breathe. He whacks his chest, as if he's trying help the oxygen reach his lungs - and your eyes widen in panic

He lets out a deep exhale, turning to you with a barely noticeable smirk when he sees the dread in your eyes

"That was too easy. You shouldn't be so nice to me, Doc."

"Well... this could be considered progress, sir! He's, uhm - open to communication?"

Endeavor is not amused. He drills you for another fifteen minutes - demanding to know every little thing about Touya's recovery process, and each minute you shrink further and further into your seat.

Who knew Touya would be the one to come to your rescue?

The undeniable beep that comes from your pocket immediately rips away your attention from Endeavor

Beep beep beep beep-

"What is that?" He nearly growls as you fumble with the small device in your hands, desperatly trying to turn it off as your feet move towards the double-doors quickly

"Touya's emergency button, he's calling me - I'm so sorry but we need to continue this conversation another time! " You yell over your shoulder before he can even get another word out, racing to the elevators as you come to a stumbling stop in front of them - you press the third floor button four times before the beeping starts up again.

Your mind immediately thinks the worst, and you're practically flying to the stairs as you run by two families and nearly knock a fellow doctor off his feet in your race towards Touya's room

Touya jumps when his room door slams open, his brows furrowing as he discreetly tries to see what made you run into his room in such a haste.

There were a few strands of hair that had fallen from your updo - you're panting as you take in Touya - sitting just fine on his bed as he stares at you. There's a hint of amusement in his eyes when he sees you before he slowly turns away.

He peers down to the device in his hands as he points it at the TV - clicking the small red button on it over and over again.

"A-Are you-"

"It won't turn off."

He waves the remote at the TV again, grumbling all sorts of profanities under his breath as he stubbornly tries to will the screen to shut off - the news played softly through the speakers as you slowly nod your head

"We use this remote for that."

He eyes the device in your hands before holding up the one in his hand

"Then what the hell is this for?"

"Emergencies. You press it when you need me and it is urgent - I check in periodically anyways, so you only use this remote when you really need me to come right away. You pressed it a lot of times before, so I had to run here. I thought something was wrong." You sigh, rubbing your temple as he turns over the device in his hand with a thoughtful hum. You gather the fallen strands in your palm and work on quietly fixing your hair.

"Why are you so nice to me?"

You pause from where you were tying your hair - lowering your hands into your lap as you tilt your head at him in confusion. Touya's glad he interrupted you while you were tying your hair - because now it falls over your shoulders in soft waves. He thinks you look... nice like this. He wonders if this will be the only time you'll let your hair flow freely in front of him.

The bluntess of his question was what made your hands drop. His words hang in the air as you try to formulate a response, but he cuts you off before you can get a word out.

"The other bastards treat me the way I deserve to be treated. How come you're actually trying? What's in it for you?"

He seems annoyed. But then you see the sincerity in his eyes - and you realize he genuinely didn't think he deserved any form of kindness. You want to hug him - but you also would like your limbs to stay in tact, so instead - you lean forward with a soft smile.

"You see, I like to think of people as flowers."

He stays silent, waiting for you to continue.

"Some grow in open fields with the sun shining over them all the time. Some grow through the cracks in concrete - and some die from drowning in too much rain or being dried out from the heat."

Something in his eyes softens at your words

"All flowers are beautiful you know - the ones people say are too far gone can still be preserved. I really like pressing flowers, you know, in glass. It reminds me that their beauty is an everlasting type of thing."

You pretend not to notice the sheen in his eyes when he stares at you. It's quiet. The curtains move from the gentle breeze that enters through the open window, and it catches wisps of your open hair in it as you smile.

Touya had thought he'd seen it all. The ugliness of the world, the terrible parts no one should venture into. How many times had he lied when he'd say "I've seen it all." ?

He realizes how wrong he was when he understands he forgot to look through the cracks in the dark walls he'd been surrounded by for so long - the splits and breaks in the surface where hope seeped through. There was still so much he wanted to see.

Flowers. Who knew something so little could mean so much?

CARNATIONS MASTERLIST.

@dabislittlemouse @rueclfer @kawaiidemoneart @porusuniverse

@starrmage @lilbeatlebear @bokukenmakuroo @bbluefllame

⬆️ i love u all for the support 🥺🩷 thank you. i am seriously so greatful :(

please let me know if you would like your username to be removed or added!! i got a little excited with the taglist sowwy 😖

[theonlymadmanonmars]

Hi hello hi. As an AroAce individual in a QPR who has no desire for a romantic or sexual relationship, I think shipping Alastor in QPRs is so so fun and people should do it more. I also think it works for a good amount if not all of the ships I've seen him in.

Alastor and Rosie: Hell yeah. They're already great friends and every interaction we've seen between them has been pure and adorable. Rosie Gently guiding Alastor through his identity because he isn't exactly up with the slang. Them going out for tea and human flesh Sunday afternoons. Them giving each other forehead kisses and holding hands platonically.

Alastor and Angle dust: Mhmm. Angle not really wanting Sex or romance after all he's been through. Angle respecting Alastor's identity and not pushing for anything more than friendship. Alastor not really liking Angle at first because of their differences, But tolerating him regardles. Alastor explaining to Angle that Romantic relationships don't have to involve Sex (I'm an Asexual Angle truther.) Angle offering Alastor a hug that Alastor reluctantly accepts. Them cuddling at night with a pinky Promise of nothing more.

Alastor and Vox: Go ahead. A fic about Alastor trying to Navigate exactly how he feels about Vox, Because when he died the term AroAce didn't exist, so he thinks it's romantic attraction, Maybe they kiss and Alastor is like "Ha! No!" Maybe that's why they had their falling out? Who knows.

Alastor and Lucifer: So So SO much Yes. (This is my personal favorite) The two of them hating each other, but putting up for each other for Charlie's sake. Slowly growing to actually tolerate and maybe even like being around the other. Exchanging snarky remarks in a more playful way. Alastor finding Lucifer sitting in a pile of ducks and despair and offering his hand to help him up and take him to the hotel. Never letting go of his hand. Fuck Enemies to Friends to Lovers I want an Enemies to Friends to Qpr arc goddamnit.

I do think it's okay to ship Alastor even outside of QPR's, BUT. If you do, don't just ignore Alastor's identity. AroAce people get far less representation than the rest of the LGBTQ+ community. I can think of one other canon Character off the top of my head. So it's not okay to erase the little rep we do get. In the end I think it's important to listen to what AroAce people have to say on the matter, it is our representation after all.

[nyaagolor]

Ranking the Ace Attorney main cast on whether or not I think they'd be a narc

I was making a more coherent, serious post about the different approaches to justice each of the characters have and how that is shaped by their backstory... and then I realized a funnier question is what they would do if they saw you eating a weed brownie so I made this post instead

Phoenix: In the trilogy era, yes. He trusts people, but believes that trust has to be built on pursuing justice and always accepting the harsh reality. He'd be sad about it, but a narc nonetheless. In his Beanix era he's making his money through "totally legal gambling" and on the hunt for questionably legal evidence so I have no doubt in my mind there's a pot farm under the WAA for supplemental income. He gives up his narc ways and for that I salute him

Apollo: If I were to pick a single member of this cast who is NOT invited to the rotation it would be him. He had zero hesitation throwing Kristoph to the wolves after working for him for years so I know he has absolutely zero qualms about ratting out his friends or coworkers. Loyalty means nothing in the eyes of justice and it means nothing to him. He's a narc.

Athena: She's gonna lecture you and look all sad about it, but she's no snitch. She's been through the rounds with Simon so she gets it. Having to know you hurt her feelings is enough of a punishment in her eyes

Edgeworth: He's not a narc but he IS obsessed with being right, so if you don't immediately fess up with exactly what you're doing he's going to send your stoned ass to the chess dimension and honestly I think that's worse

Franziska: Unfortunately she is a cop. Narc.

Godot: Diego-era yeah he's a narc, but after the coma? I feel like he has better things to worry about, he would just ignore you. He has some soul searching to do and some grief complexes to unlearn he doesn't have the time to be a lil snitch. Post prison I think he's stoned somewhere in Kurain and chillaxing, as is his right

Klavier: Don't let his rockstar attitude fool you he's a narc and extremely annoying about it. The gavinners tour bus is dry as hell and it's all Klavier's fault. Daryan offers him a line and he gets all uppity and says "the only LINE i want you doing is the third line in the prechorus, you keep messing up the syncopation" and that's the end of that discussion

Simon: He's been in prison so he knows what's up. Not a narc. Might glare at you until you share though

Nahyuta: He's a narc and will lecture you so long about it you're tempted to turn yourself in to get out of earshot. He also never forgets and never forgives. Datz is trying to reform him but it isn't going well

Sebastian: Yes, but I think the idea of him having to turn in someone for it would make him cry so they end up comforting him instead. Kay thinks he needs to try a weed brownie

Maya: I want you to look at me and tell me she doesn't smoke weed. Not a narc

Pearl: I think if she found out that her big sister figure smoked weed she would have a heart attack. Def a narc

Trucy: I can say with absolute certainty that if you really wanted weed she could find you a dealer faster than anyone in the cast. Trucy is a magician and has grown up around a variety of people involved with some seedier institutions, she knows better than to snitch. Has not been and will never be a narc

Kay: Will help you shoplift. Not a narc

Gumshoe: A narc on principle, but would feel really bad about it and would probably let you off with a warning if you started crying or acting upset because I think he's a softie. He's not unreasonable

Ema: If you think she has even the tiniest sliver of respect for cops you're lying to yourself. Not a narc and will actively help you evade police out of principle. A homie, honestly

Fulbright: Not only is he a narc but he definitely runs the DARE program at the local highschool and is printed on half the posters they put up in the precinct. I'm also like 80% sure he doesn't actually know how weed works

[secriden]

Style in episode 4 made me soft in a way that I truly did not expect. I’ve used the word “guileless” (def: innocent and without deception) before to describe him but I don't think that has been shown more clearly then in this episode.

He tries to be manipulative and lasts for all of one single morning and then comes running to Fadel the second he hears about Fadel asking about him. He's so excited, so exuberant at the thought that Fadel misses him, so happy that his little (terribly obvious and juvenile) plan worked.

Which is why I think he was genuinely taken aback when Fadel only had harsh words for him as a reply (this is not a criticism of Fadel; in this he has been consistent. Doesn't mean they weren't hurtful though). Look at the way Style's grin slowly dies. Watch the way he straightens and backs away a bit, like he wasn't expecting the clawed swipe of Fadel's dismissal.

But Style is resilient. He's tenacious. We see him rally and steel himself to resume his pursuit: because Style is nothing if not determined to hold on to the thinnest thread of hope that he's breaking through Fadel's shell. And can I just take a moment to get emotional about Style offering forgiveness even when Fadel hasn't asked for it?

This, though. I do think this was uncalled for (this is a criticism of Fadel). You can make the argument that Fadel has tried honesty and blunt rejection and it hasn't worked, but I would have respected Fadel more if he'd stuck to his guns and kept rejecting Style in the same manner. Especially when everything else about his character shows he's actually very up front and direct. With Bison, with Kant, hell even with himself.

Fadel is mocking Style's clear and wanton desire for him. Look at the sardonic little grin Fadel gets right before he says, "You won't ever get what you want." Consider the way he was touching Style with that gentle, focused intensity; how he cuts up his shirt and tears it open and leans in close in a way that suggests purposefulness while having zero intention of seeing it through. Fadel knew what he was doing and he did it on purpose, to hurt.

And you can see that Style is genuinely hurt here. I think he has always been prepared for Fadel's rejection, but not his cruelty. Not Fadel making sport of him and his very real emotions and desires. Because Fadel has been rude and condescending before, but he's never been contemptuous like he is here.

And I wonder, partly, if this is because both times we see Style and his dad, his dad is scolding/chiding/correcting him to some extent. Perhaps that's just how they interact. Or perhaps, as implied by the way Style sarcastically said "Thanks, dad" as Fadel drives away in episode 1, Style doesn't enjoy the way his father scolds him and always has criticisms or corrections for him. Perhaps Style just wants to be accepted for who he is, especially by the man he is starting to have real feelings for.

Edit (after Ep 5): I'm so sorry, Papa Style, I did you so wrong. ;u;

@lazzarella made a post recently about Dunk's phenomenal acting in this scene (among others) and I concur so hard about how intense and scorching and "both fiery and steely" Style's anger feels in this scene. He's furious and wounded and you can see it in his gaze, the tension in his jaw, the way he bares his teeth up at Fadel when he says "...punch me in the face? Go on!"

And honestly, he is justified. Fadel's incredulity has no basis here: he stooped back to using public humiliation, something which Style very pointedly has not engaged with since his conversation with Bison in episode 2. Every instance of approaching Fadel since then has clearly been aimed to involve himself in Fadel's private life*.

*Yes even or maybe especially the support group in episode 3. Because while Style may have been treating the whole thing too lightly, all of it is directed privately to Fadel with his secret looks and winks. As far as the other support group members are concerned, Style was a somewhat overdramatic new member that had no connection to Fadel.

But what Fadel did by cutting up his shirt and sending him out in shame regressed them back to their early dynamic, which was far more antagonistic.

This is why Style lashes out at the support group again. Look at the anger simmering in his eyes. The way he makes direct, insistent eye contact with Fadel as he speaks, returning again when he talks about feeling used. Style, overall, is a character that doesn't take anything too seriously so it's almost shocking to see him this visibly angry and so pointedly challenging Fadel in a space where Fadel cannot easily brush him off.

But even now, even in all his rage and hurt, Style is true to himself and his heart. He doesn't want revenge or an apology, he wants Fadel to acknowledge that the thing between them, fragile as it is, matters; that what they did meant something to the both of them.

And this is why I was so broken about Style offering forgiveness without Fadel asking for it earlier: because all it took was Fadel admitting that he missed Style for him to unreservedly offer reassurance and safety for Fadel's heart. There is nothing ambiguous about what Style says at the jeep: he makes his own intentions clear by offering certainty, taking responsibility, promising the very commitment he was asking Fadel for.

He makes himself vulnerable to and for the man who literally just mocked and humiliated him that morning. Style really just let all his anger go immediately like that.

And no, I don't think he was doing all that for the car. This is just how Style talks. He has a flair for the dramatic, and this was the perfect way to reveal his news to Kant. But look at how delighted, how filled with boyish glee he is while he tells Kant the news about Fadel agreeing to be his boyfriend. Consider the way he reacted in the moment: the joy in his voice and the wonder in his eyes when he said "Really? We're dating now?", the way he covers Fadel's cheeks in a hundred butterfly kisses.

Also, a thought that occurred to me - could this be Style's first relationship? We know from episode 1 that he sleeps around, but there's seemingly no mention of a previous serious/committed relationship so far. His dad seems surprised to hear Style is seriously pursing someone. Could Fadel be the first person to capture his interest for long enough that Style developed actual feelings?

Which is also why his fear is now so visceral. He is genuinely terrified of Fadel, but I don't think it's just because he's realised how dangerous Fadel is (after all, he's known that to some extent since he watched Fadel break a man's arm with his thighs). No, his fear stems from the fact that Fadel now has reason to hurt Style.

In the face of the betrayal of his own trust, Style answers Kant's plea to friendship and entangles himself with Kant's lie willingly... and thereby forfeits all rights to the safety he was so confident of in the middle of the woods by an abandoned factory. Because now Style knows that if Kant gets found out, it won't matter that Style didn't intentionally mislead and take advantage of Fadel's vulnerability in the forest. Because he still chose Kant over Fadel here, and that makes him undeserving of the open door he asked Fadel to give him.

Style is incredibly transparent in all his thoughts and emotions and this is why I say that Style is guileless: he is incapable of true deception. His heart is too close to the surface, his desires too obvious, his thoughts too clearly broadcasted on his face.

He is the perfect foil; not only to Fadel (who until this episode held everything so buried inside his chest that we only understand his true feelings in snatches of memories or moments when Fadel is certain that he is truely alone) but also Kant (whose deception, whilst cracking under pressure, is intentional and calculated - thinking about that bowling alley accomplice right now - in a way Style never could be).

And this means that any success on his part in the upcoming episode(s) in deceiving Fadel is going to fall on either Fadel's own willful blindness or the suspension of disbelief the genre requires of the viewer -- but it won't be because Style is actually any good at playing the role now that he knows the full truth.

This is why my heart breaks for Style. Because Kant forced a burden on him that he was in no way prepared to bear. And eventually Style will have to choose between his loyalty to Kant and his burgeoning feelings for Fadel and, regardless of his choice, the narrative demands that Style sacrifice a piece of his own heart in the process.

[khattikeri]

one of my favorite things about mdzs is that for how heavily its plot involves politics of classism and misogyny... even the characters most directly impacted by it can't and don't free themselves from it. literally the closest exception is mianmian.

meng yao being the "son of a whore" wasn't some sort of commie awakening for him that led him to wanting everyone to be socially equal. he played the political game, climbed the ladders, sucked up to and backstabbed and murdered people, including other prostitutes who actually had nothing to do with how he and his mother were treated at the brothel he grew up in.

he put in so much extra excessive effort for even a fraction of the same respect that members of gentry cultivation clans got. and he did deserve to be treated more humanely! but he feeds into the exact same system that created him, leading to his own undoing.

his efforts were for a fragile upward mobility that was never going to hold up. he never surpassed his origins nor did he empower others in similar stations, because the society he lives in is not one that would accept that.

the second he got caught and all those crimes exposed, he was scapegoated to hell and back, replacing wei wuxian as society's terrible one-sidedly evil boogeyman overnight.

speaking of not-quite male gentry, i think it's interesting that wei wuxian explicitly doesn't try to climb the ladders in BOTH lives, knowing full well that anything he does will be punished just for the sheer fact that he is wei wuxian.

wei wuxian is scolded for giving intelligent and correct answers in school. lan wangji does the same and is praised.

wei wuxian occasionally lounges around with fellow disciples and is punished. jiang cheng does the same and mostly escapes.

wei wuxian refuses to carry his sword around in public (after losing his golden core, which nobody knows) and is scorned as an arrogant upstart. nie huaisang has been doing the EXACT SAME THING for YEARS and nobody bats an eye.

unlike jin guangyao, wei wuxian knew subconsciously from the start that his acceptance was superficial and that he could be cast out any time. when he was 10 and recently taken in by the jiangs, he canonically would not eat or use "too much" food and water because he thought they'd find him a nuisance for "wasting their things" and kick him back out.

now away from just the classism, yu ziyuan is a proud and strong noblewoman in a society that belittles and derides women for everything they do. her strong cultivation doesn't matter. she's victim to the vicious rumors of her husband loving another woman who is strong like her but apparently had a more likeable personality.

it doesn't matter even if jiang fengmian didn't cheat or that wei wuxian is wei changze's son with cangse sanren; yu ziyuan can't bear with the humiliation of herself (and by extension her children) not being "good enough". she's ridiculed for "failing" in that one duty as a wife, mother, and woman.

she lashes out and takes out that anger on everyone present for years, giving her children lasting trauma and also being a key element in how the jiang family and yunmeng jiang sect are effectively wiped out at the hands of the wen clan.

madam jin doesn't even have a name outside of the fact that she's married to jin guangshan. i don't even remember reading anything that indicates if she's a strong or weak cultivator, or what, which in itself proves that to most people, it doesn't matter. she's "just" a woman.

of course she's angry at her husband's affairs and all the bastard children they bring in. but she also can't do anything about them, so she lashes out at the few people she can: servants. non-cultivators, probably. those very same bastard children.

shoutout to meng yao getting shoved down a flight of stairs at age fourteen, because if madam jin tried that move against her husband instead, it would make her lose even more face, which as a noblewoman she'd never do.

and that's not getting into how jiang yanli is consistently sidelined for being physically weak.

that's not getting into how mianmian was actually a good cultivator, but was mocked by everyone around her for trying to stand up for wei wuxian when everyone was turning on him. how everyone scoffed at luo qingyang's words as "just some lovesick woman" who "obviously wants to marry or bed him since he saved her".

luo qingyang is the only one of these characters who HASN'T died. she didn't play society's games like jin guangyao. she didn't dig her heels in confidence of her own abilities like wei wuxian.

she didn't bitterly lash out like yu ziyuan and madam jin. she didn't gently accept it like jiang yanli.

she just LEFT.

she married an ordinary merchant and cultivates separately from mainstream cultivation society, and therein found her own peace and happiness.

mxtx doesn't bother with particularly class conscious or feminist vocabulary to hand-hold readers into understanding these disparities, but that choice highlights them & the deeply entrenched politics of their society even more. i really love it.

[genderqueerdykes]

i think i'm a trans guy. i wish i wasn't. i keep telling myself that i'm anything but that. that i'm non binary or demigirl or agender or that i just don't care about gender because it's made up anyway but i think really i do care, i care so much and i feel like i shouldn't care as much as i do and i should be what is expected of me, i should be a pretty girl but i'm not i don't want to be, i can't be, i've tried, i have tried so so hard to be a girl or anything other than a guy but i know if i was given the chance i would give anything to be born a boy. i know if i was born a boy i would just be a boy. i have recognised this in myself for years but i just can not fully accept it, but i so desperately want to. the tv has never glowed brighter and i have never craved darkness more before.

its okay to feel that way. when i figured out i was a trans guy i was practically clawing my skin off because i wanted to be anything but that. i thought it was a terrible thing, because i would never become a real man, or people would always see me as a tranny and nothing more. i was very depressed thinking about how hard transitioning would be, and how i may never pass or get people to address me correctly

there's a sort of grieving period at first when you realize you're trans. you grieve for the person you were, and still are. you are taking the first steps toward moving forward, which involves allowing yourself to feel grief for what you're about to leave behind. you could or should just be a pretty girl, but that's just not you. you're grieving that girl, and it's okay to do so. it's part of the process of letting go

take care of yourself, feel free to stop by again at any point. you're not alone, this is a very normal experience to have

[willyeeton]

I'd probably agree with Sean Bean in this case. A trip to Mars makes an incredibly dangerous and huge rescue, unlike anything we've done in the real world.

I get to thinking about the costs and where they may help somebody else later.

I'd agree with others here that the people doing the rescuing have a full right to decide what they risk their lives for, but there are other resources involved in a trip to Mars that aren't explicitly their right to decide on. Rocket ships, rations, equipment can all do a lot of good for other people later if we don't gamble them on that one trip.

But then that feels very callous. Wrong. Bringing the worth of a man's life down to the steel, fuel, and money required to save it. I understand people saying damn it all and going all in for a human life. It's a commendably good natured instinct.

It brings my mind back to a long video I watched about a man who got pinned in a cave collapse in the early 1900s. His long battle to survive and the attempted rescues became national news. His brother and friends kept coming back to give him food and water, to try and move him, or just to talk. Rescuers eventually set about digging straight down above him, but the work was too slow and he died.

I don't think anything was lost there that wasn't worth the effort. He died, they failed, but the firefighters and construction workers and cavers that worked to save him all came back alive. All the money was made back later and heavy equipment wasn't a concern. This situation doesn't promise that.

My answer to the basic trolley problem is to pull the lever. It's simple numbers. But it gets so much harder when real world context moves in.

I should watch this movie.

I tend to be quite intrigued with movies when there are quite literally *no* bad guys. The Martian is a great example.

You accept Sean Bean’s point: You can’t give up six lives for the slim chance of saving one.

But at no point is he considered a villain. Because he isn’t.

The trolley problem.

[muniimyg]

8.5: exiled 》 series m.list

note: hi.... bye..... lol

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//

“Get off of her!” 

All eyes are on you as you shove a drunk guy off Mina. He's probably twice your size, but it doesn't matter. Her eyes widen as you take her by the arm and hide her behind you like a child. She almost trips over her own feet, but finds balance as Yuna catches her. Yuna stands behind Mina, keeping her in the middle. Automatically, Mina feels safe.

The man puts his hands up and feels all eyes shift to him. 

Poorly, he tries to take a step towards you. Glaring at him, you don’t back away. Yuna tugs your arm to do so, but you ignore her. Instead, you stay as you are. Why would you back down? Why should you be scared? The man chuckles, unable to process what’s happening. He slurs his words, “I was just trying to talk to her.”

You find his ignorance ridiculous. Coyly, you call him out. “Since when did 'trying to talk to her' involve your hands on her ass?” 

His crooked smile drops at your words. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Without much thought, you take a step towards him. Angrier than ever, you want to yell at his face, slap him, and tell him he’s a sad excuse of a man. You hate him. He boils your blood and you love the idea of swinging at him. It takes every ounce of strength for you not to.

It's not such a bad idea, right?

The moment you move your feet and raise your hand, Yuna calls for Taehyung. 

It's a little annoying how in moments like these, it’s difficult to deny that they just might be a match made in heaven. Like magic, Taehyung makes his way through the crowd and places himself in between you and the drunk man. 

Taehyung eyes the guy, steadily with an intimidating gaze. His tone is cold and irritated. He has never been the one to entertain drama—especially the kind that involves his friends. 

“You bothering my friends?” He asks. "I'd suggest you don't."

The man huffs at him before deciding this isn't worth it. He backs off, not bothering to look back or utter another word. The crowd parts for him as his friends help him out of the house. By the time he disappears, Taehyung yells: “Ayo, what the fuck is everyone on? Since when did we let creeps in? Since when do we let each other be treated like that?”

“Taehyung—”

“No, Yuna," Taehyung pauses only to raise his voice. "That was so fucking weird! Since when do we stand around and let them do stupid shit—“

“Tae,” Yuna grabs his arm, and she attempts to calm him. “Everyone is drunk. No one is going to listen to your speech. It’s okay. Nothing escalated and you came right on time.”

He has a difficult time accepting her words.

“Just because it’s okay this time doesn’t mean it’s okay next time,” he huffs. Yuna hushes him and pulls him in a hug. Taehyung rests his chin on top of her head and murmurs, “You’re okay, right? Did he touch you?” 

Yuna shakes her head and proceeds to tell Taehyung to relax. She explains that it wasn’t even her that needed the rescue—it was Mina. Though it was a concerning matter, Taehyung doesn’t care. He takes any and every opportunity to protect Yuna. To him, only Yuna mattered. He pouts, feeling sulky at the fact that she was almost caught in an uncomfortable situation. 

The two drift into their own world, leaving you and Mina. 

Turning to her, you ask, "Are you okay?"

Mina nods, taking a breath in. She can't believe all of that happened within 5 minutes. It was all so fast. Hastly, she answers you. "Y-yeah, I am. Thanks for that..."

Simply, you offer a small smile and nod. Just as you're about to take off and find Yuna, Mina reaches for your hand. You hesitate, not knowing what to do. Although that doesn’t matter, The alcohol in her system gives her confidence as she takes your hand and tugs you in for a hug. By now, it’s clear that her state is well past tipsy.

Mumbling, she reveals, “My friends would’ve just stood there. The last time something like this happened, Jungkook swooped in to save me—”

“Why do your friends just stand there?” you ask rather angrily. That's annoying. Shouldn't girls stick together? Shouldn't friends do more than let bad things happen? Mina's words make you upset and lead you to a protective point of view. You pull away and look at her sternly. “You need new friends.”

She laughs, trying to play it cool. “They’re just shy…”

“That’s no excuse,” you tell her. “If that shit happens again, text me. Yuna and I will come to your rescue. I literally hate it when guys are—”

“You’re nice,” she says softly. Mina says it like it's the newest discovery the world needs to know of. She says it like it's mindblowing. You can't help but crack a smile at her as she continues. “L-like, I knew you were nice… But this is your first time being nice to me.”

You pause for a second.

Were you intentionally mean to her? You never meant to be (aside from the blowjob thing). Seeing her alone and in distress makes you feel like the most horrible person in the entire world. You want to say sorry. You want to beg for forgiveness and hope for a reset with her.

Let's be real.

Rebuilding or restoring—whatever the fuck you need to do to fix things between you and Mina—can't happen overnight. No flowery words or protective action can make up for the strain in your potential friendship with her.

You opt for the most rational path.

Baby steps.

“I guess I just never had the opportunity to be your friend,” you almost stutter.

Your words catch her off guard. 

Mina blinks at you. “I thought you didn’t like me. Why would you be my friend?”

You chuckle, a little taken back by her honesty. “Who said I didn’t like you? Jungkook?”

She shakes her head profusely. “N-no… No one really.. I just assumed. And, speaking of which…. Let’s go this way.”

By now, the crowd had already forgotten and moved on from what had happened 5 minutes ago. Everyone takes their place, occupying the house, and leaving you and Mina no choice but to move out of the way. Even though she’s drunk and stumbling through the crowd, she remembers where she last saw Jungkook. 

As she leads you to the backyard, she pauses at the sliding door. Outside, you can see Jungkook sitting on the grass with a drink in his hand. Yuna and Taehyung are sitting on the patio deck, talking to each other and watching over Jungkook. 

“I don’t not like you,” you admit to her. Your wording is confusing, especially to a drunk girl trying to comprehend your attempt at warmth. “Not liking you… versus not liking the fact that you like Jungkook are two different things… I think I was insecure. I was immature about it. I didn’t mean to be mean. I’m sorry I was selfish. I’m sorry if it ruined what you and Jungkook had.”

“You’re sorry about ruining my one-sided romance with him?” Mina frets, holding back tears. 

With no words to give her, you stay quiet. 

Breaking the silence, she asks with a sad smile: “What if I still like Jungkook?” 

It would be a lie to say that her words didn’t frustrate you. Truth be told, the entire idea of her still being into him makes you feel uneasy. Given that your fight with Jungkook blew up at the mention of her name—it’s not easy to move past. 

But you figure… Maybe you should. Maybe pushing through all the insecurity, ache, and pettiness is what needs to be done. There are so many good things in life and friendship is one of those things. She doesn't need to be your best friend or anything—but maybe she could be a good friend. At least, someone you could wave at as you cross paths.

Playfully, you nudge her. She reacts just as playfully and helps you unlock the patio door. 

“Then I guess you’re right,” you laugh, trying to sound as lighthearted as possible. “I don’t like you at all.”

For the first time, Mina throws her head back and laughs for real. 

You join her and laugh a little harder. Her reaction makes you feel a sense of relief and in that, for a split second, it felt comfortable and easy between you two. Like you had been friends all along. Like there was no bad start. No bad blood. When your laughter dies down, Mina takes a deep breath and makes a final confession. 

“I really wanted to be your friend,” her teary eyes give in. She lets a tear roll down her cheek as she continues. Sniffing, she admits, “I really wanted you to like me… You’re so pretty and you and Yuna have this nonchalant bestie behaviour that I'm honestly jealous of—“

“You’re so pretty too,” you say in awe. You can't help but feel flattered at her words but also a little bad that her luck seems to be quite the opposite of yours. “Let's put a pin on your friends for now... You’re really drunk, babes.”

“I know!” she cries with a smile. Mina throws her hands in the air like an overdramatic child. You've always known her to be cute, but this was the cherry on top.

She's cute! You don't want to rip her head off too! Progress.

Sighing, you ask, “How are you gonna get home?”

Mina shrugs.  “Dunno. Friends ditched me.”

You frown. 

“I’ll get Yuna and Taehyung to take you home… Is that okay? I'd do it myself but I think Jungkook needs my attention right now. Also, I don’t really trust the people at this party around you.” 

For the second time tonight, your words touch Mina. 

Oddly enough, your concern for her only makes her even more sad. It only makes her even more angry at the universe. In a sick way, she wishes you were mean. If you were mean, maybe it would be easier hating you. Instead, your honesty with your words pushes her into a dilemma. Should she hate you out of spite? Should she like you just because of this one good moment? Does she give it all up and let her growing resentment go? 

You look at her fondly and her mind is made up. 

You were forgiven. 

“I get it,” she sniffs, as she makes the connections in her mind. You tilt your head at her, eyebrows knit together.

“Get what?”

“I get why Jungkook wants to be loved by you so bad."

Mina doesn't continue her sentence. Puzzled, you aren't sure if there was more to it. You aren't sure if she was just that drunk. You aren't sure what it even means... Regardless, you're thankful.

One thing about Jungkook is that he’s good at drinking. 

In every beer pong game, every drinking game, and ice challenge—he has never had an issue getting drunk. He always had fun too! Drinking was easy for him. At least, it was easy until you. 

Drinking and having feelings for you all at once is not his favourite mix. 

God, he hates this so much. 

It feels like no drink is enough. No amount of shots or refills in his red cup will ease how he feels. Every shot he takes, as he shuts his eyes and throws his head back, he dedicates to you. How could he not? You’re the reason he’s drinking so fucking much anyway. 

He can’t think straight anymore. There isn’t a single thought in his head that makes sense and even counting is difficult now. Jungkook doesn’t know how many drinks he’s had. He lost count of the amount of shots he took by himself and with others. At one point, he thought his alcohol was water and chugged it.

Then, when he realized it wasn’t water… He threw up on Taehyung.

But that was minutes ago. For a good 10 minutes, he was left alone outside in the dark. Oddly enough, it was the first time in two weeks that he didn’t feel alone. His usual emptiness wasn’t consuming him.

There’s a stillness under the night sky that simply gives him peace. It lasts for a good 10 seconds before he thinks of you again… Not that he hasn’t been thinking of you every second of every day for the past two weeks—right now, he’s really thinking of you.

He’s thinking of how you laugh a beat after the punchline is said. He’s thinking of how you always hesitate to hold his hand. He’s thinking about the way you always take Yuna’s side even when she’s clearly wrong. He’s thinking about how much he wished he could’ve been that stupid fucking perilla leaf because it meant being close to your lips.

Then, he lets himself laugh.

It’s silly, isn’t it? Aside from being jealous of Eunwoo, he was also jealous of the perilla leaf itself.

How fucking hilarious.

Then, it gets worse.

As he continues to think about you, he swears he can see you making your way to him. Your figure comes closer and closer. Jungkook rubs his eyes, not wanting this to be a dream. Could it be true? Is it really you? Why… How the fuck did you get here? When?

With Eunwoo?

Oh my god.

He feels like he might cry.

“Jungkook,” you rush over to him and take the red cup out of his hand. Without hesitation, you pour out the alcohol and then toss the cup aside. He isn’t sure how, but you have a water bottle. It appears like magic and you open it. You don’t bother exchanging words with him as you bring the water to his mouth and tilt it.

He takes three big gulps before turning his face away.

“You need to drink more water,” you say softly, moving in closer to him. He looks at you weirdly, still not processing that you’re actually beside him. 

It’s been so long since you’ve been this close to him.

It feels like a fever dream.

“___? A-are you really here?”

His voice cracks. He sounds unsure and almost afraid. As much as it breaks your heart, you force yourself to put on a brave face.

Nodding, you offer him a smile. “Yeah, it’s me,” you attempt to give him water again. He rejects. “Come on, Jungkook. You need to drink more water—”

He shakes his head, rejecting you. 

“Pookie—”

“Yah, ___!” Jungkook pokes his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “Don’t call me that. Fuck, ___. You should know when to stop.”

You blink at him. His harshness is difficult to be upset over. You can't blame him for feeling whatever he's feeling. It's valid. You've been an absolute idiot. Yet, your face can’t hide the disappointment you feel from being treated like that. 

Jungkook’s stern face suddenly drops. You’ve never seen such emotion. His lips twitch, as he tries to hold in his sobs. He hasn’t cried over you yet. In the span of the two weeks apart—he has just been avoiding his feelings. Avoiding you.

Now, here you are.

In front of him in all your heartbreaking glory and he can’t find it in himself to walk away. He can’t think of a single thing to say or do. Truth be told, he just wanted to look at you because holy shit.

He missed you so much.

“Seriously,” you press, “please… Just drink a little more water—”

Jungkook hits the water bottle out of your hand. It practically flies to the other side of the yard. You stand still, trying to keep yourself calm. It’s not like you were afraid of him or his temper—you’re afraid of what’s going to happen now.

His words.

“Do you honestly think I give a shit about water right now?” Jungkook growls. “Fucking think about it, ___.”

You take a breath in.

“What are you doing, Jungkook?”

Silence.

You continue, “Why are you drinking so much?”

He stares at you with a blank expression. 

Fine. 

You can’t help yourself by saying something that you know will bring out a reaction from him. “Jungkook, why’d you ask for a break?”

The most that happens is that he squints at you. He remains silent. 

Sighing, you make one last attempt. “I’m not good at this, okay? Tell me what to do and I’ll—”

“Say sorry.”

Immediately, you do so. You apologize. “I’m sorry.”

“Tell me you have feelings for me too.”

That’s when you notice his fists are all curled up and his chest rises dramatically from taking deep breaths. You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. He lowers his gaze, searching for your eyes. Then, Jungkook snaps. He can’t hold it in any longer. There are too many questions flooding his mind and at this point—ruining his life.

“Tell me you hate me then,” he insists. “___, tell me it’s my fault. Please. I’m begging you. Tell me I’ve been delusional about everything going on between us and that I had no right to act like a wuss over a fucking perilla leaf because I don’t mean shit to you. Tell me, ___, w-why don’t you wa-want m-me?”

His voice betrays him. It cracks as his words spill his sadness. A small sob, followed by a real one, escapes his lips. He buries his face into his hands as his shoulders shake from his cries. 

Jungkook is a mess.

He is mindlessly drunk and completely heartbroken. You reach out for him, but he shakes you off. “Let’s talk about this tomorrow, okay? When you’re not crying or this drunk—please, Jungkook. I’m begging you.”

“No! It’s no use.” Jungkook begins to sob even harder. He clenches the left side of his shirt, where his heart is, and hits it once, twice, and then a third time. It’s breaking and in no time, his heart will turn into stardust. He knows it. Even so, he cries like his words are his dying wish. “I like you so much my chest hurts. My words lose meaning because there is no way for me to explain that the answer doesn’t change—it’s always the same fucking answer to the stupidest goddamn question—oh my god, ___! I can’t keep pretending anymore—it hurts so bad. Being with you hurts so bad… Being without you is death. I felt like I was dying."

“Breathe,” you plead, as you search for his eyes. “Jungkook, take a minute.”

It’s devastating.

Jungkook is in complete agony and you don’t know what to say or do to ease his pain. If you say what he wants to hear—will that fix everything? Will he stop crying? Will he accuse you of lying? You don’t know. All you know is that it feels like the sky is falling.

“I think I’ve had feelings for you since the first time I’ve ever made you laugh… And I miss that, ___. I miss making you laugh.” In a sad attempt to compose himself, he reaches for your hand. You let him take it. What else can you do when the guy you’re falling for is falling apart in front of you? You let him take your fucking hand. You hold his hand tight and bite your tongue from letting your stupid words ruin this moment. 

“I remember it, y-you know?” he sniffs, trying to catch his breath. “B-but I don’t remember the joke I told you. In all honesty, I was too busy looking at you. Like, when I made you laugh, your eyes smiled before your lips did… A-and I remember my heart skipping a beat b-because it never did that before.” 

His confession moves you. 

Although, your heart feels conflicted. You don't even remember the first time he's made you laugh. He always makes you laugh. It’s flattering to find out how deeply he felt for you, but it is also extremely heartbreaking watching him go through this. It hurts you much deeper than you’re expressing. You feel frozen and it’s not by choice.

All you manage to say is; “slow down.” 

He does.

This was harder than he thought it would be. Not that ever thought confessing his feelings to you would be easy—he just never thought it would be like this. Drunk. Crying. Already brokenhearted before his actual confession.

He wanted it to happen better than this. He wanted it to happen lovingly, not desperately. If he had it his way, it should’ve happened at the party. 

He should’ve taken your hand as you walked down the stairs together. He should have asked you out as you two got dressed. Jungkook regrets it so much. If he had more time—if Eunwoo had never shown up… Maybe you two would have been together tonight. Maybe he would’ve been happy. 

Instead, he was downing shot glasses of tears and drunk in love. 

Jungkook turns away from you and tries to focus on his breathing. As he catches his breath, you gather your thoughts. You don’t want to lose him. You don’t want him to think that you’re okay with everything that’s going on—you’re not. You have feelings for him, sure, but you aren’t sure if they’re as deep as his… At least, that’s what you think. Then, that’s when it hits you.

They are, aren’t they? 

If they weren’t, you wouldn’t be here right now. You wouldn’t be holding his hand like a fucking bitch. 

Your feelings are just as deep as his. That’s why you’re here, holding his hand, and wanting to talk things through sober. You want it to mean more than a drunken confession. You want him to mean more than what you’ve been downplaying him to be. As you process these thoughts, he lets go of your hands. He takes a few steps away from you and paces back and forth. As much as he hates to do this, Jungkook draws the boundary.

“Do you even think about me?” He asks with a slightly irritated tone. “Because it feels like you don’t. You never texted me once—”

“You asked for the break.” Unintentionally, you say it like a smartass. 

He huffs at you. “Still. You should have texted—”

“Are you actually mad at me, Jungkook? Or are you upset that—”

“I miss you. Every day that passed, I missed you so much. You didn’t even text. You didn’t even hold your gaze when I caught you staring at me… And I had to play it cool, ___. I had to act like I wasn’t fucking dying inside. I’ve been so miserable—and you knew it. You must have known it because the happiest I’ve ever been has only been with you.” Jungkook’s mind spins faster and faster. He has to get all these words out. They’ve clogged up his mind and he’s so sick of it. 

He’s tired of this. How much longer could he live like this? How much longer does he have to wait for your heart to choose him?

“I waited for your text,” he whimpers. “I have waited for you every day. Over and over again. Day after day—and I c-can’t—” Jungkook pauses to compose his final words. “I did it all alone. I caught feelings by myself. I waited all by myself.”

“Jungkook—”

“I got ahead of myself.” 

You can't believe how foolish he sounds. How the only he got ahead of were your words. Honestly, you can't blame him. All you can really do is let him cry. Then, without warning, he begins to storm away.

You run after him.

Before he knows it, you wrap your arms around his torso. Hugging him from the back, you hold him tight. Jungkook is startled and completely moved. He wants to turn around and melt in your embrace... But for some reason, he can't do it. He can't give in this time. He can't stay and wait for you to fucking get it together. That's why, he does it. It's like he takes hold of the knife stabbed into your heart and pulls it out.

Then, you're left there bleeding as he tears away from your grasp.

For the first time, you watch him walk away. As he enters the house and you're left all alone, you try to rationalize everything in your head... But you can't.

You've been exiled.

[maya-caffrey]

Rain, Cinnamon, Cologne, and Conditioner

pairing: sirius black x reader

summary: Amortentia week is always chaotic. Especially so when you're lab partners with longtime frenemy sirius black

warnings: Language maybe, fic from reader's pov

a/n: been forever since i wrote for a marauder, lets hope this is acceptable 🙏🏻

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

Although Slughorn certainly meant well, there was simply nothing that one could do to hate him a bit less during Amortentia week. Dramatic breakups preceded by "What do you MEAN you smell my sister's perfume!?", and hasty love confessions followed by immediate regret, for a spectator like me this was the best week ever at Hogwarts.

The class smelled faintly of rain and cinnamon to me, a lingering effect of the neighboring cauldrons.

"I honestly have no idea what I'm supposed to be smelling here, like, I am certain no one has smelled this exact smell before."

"James, come on, that is clearly Lavender."

"What?"

"I smell Lavender!" she said, weirdly enthusiastic about the smell.

"Lily, honey, say that again but slowly."

It took her a minute before she realized. Even the smartest people get confuddled sometimes. Of course, she'll never know what it smelled like to him.

Somewhere in the back, I saw Lucius Malfoy almost poke some poor kid's eye out with his wand, and next to his table was Severus Snape, staring menacingly into a cauldron that definitely did not have Amortentia in it. He was a weird kid. Creeps me out still.

Anyway, that brings us to Sirius and I, who couldn't agree on who gets to put the sneezewort in.

"After you," I said, not wanting to bear the brunt of what will follow. You see, Sneezewort gets its name from the fact that whenever it's added to a potion, it produces a puff of smoke that causes those closest to sneeze for a good entire minute.

"Oh, no, go ahead. I insist."

"Well, I insist more."

"I insist the most, then."

"Sirius, come on."

"Hey, you started it!"

"Well, you end it. I don't want to keep sneezing!"

"Oh, good, because it's my favorite hobby, sneezing incessantly."

There was no compromise in sight. That is, until-

"Alright Sirius, I'll tell you what. You convince Peter to do this, I'll get Marlene to go with you to Hogsmeade. For real this time."

"Please, I don't need you to be my wingman, I'm perfectly charming all on my own, thank you very much," he said, signature smirk decorating his face.

"You know you need my hel-"

"Yes I do, I was kidding, thank you so much, I love you."

I shook my head and laughed while waiting for Peter to take whatever bait Sirius was laying out. Sure, he was presumptuous and annoying, and the banter was endless, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't look forward to it every day at this point.

After Remus begrudgingly dragged a red-in-the-face Peter away from our table, we stirred the potion 3 times, and all that was left was to add the pieces of Lovelog. We added them at the same time and instinctively held our breaths and waited for the potion to turn pink, which it did. However, it didn't work.

"Dude, I smell nothing."

"Yes, thanks for pointing it out, (Y/n). Extremely astute observation. 10 points to Gryffindor."

"Oh, okay, sure, be all haughty after fucking up the potion."

"I fucked up? That's presumptuous! For all we know, you screwed up."

"Please, I used Slughorn's recipe down to the smallest detail there is no way it was me. You were the one who kept taking off to 'charm Marlene with your smile' every 5 minutes."

"Hey. I'm playing the long game and it will work. Eventually. Just- Admit that you screwed up, please?"

"Oh, no, no we are not doing this. Remus, could you come here, please?"

"Me? Oh, no, love. I am not getting involved with this," said Remus, vaguely gesturing in our general direction.

James threw a raisin-looking thing at Sirius' head to get his attention which met its mark, followed by a faint 'ow'.

"Oi dickhead! Lily says you're potion's working fine. She smells Lavender."

"Well dip me in milk and call me a cookie 'cause I cannot smell anything for the life of me over that fruity conditioner of yours," said Sirius, in an annoyingly accusatory tone that set me over the edge because well first of all fuck you. second of all-

"Oh, you're one to talk Mr I-must-use-the-entire-bottle-of-cologne. You smell like an axe showroom" Yeah, get his ass, me. "Also, I didn't use conditioner today, you pompous dick."

"Yeah? Well, get ready to feel stupid because I ran out of cologne yesterday. Ha. In your face." Wait, what?

Silence.

Contemplative silence.

A whole lot of good old silence.

Faces contorting in ways like never before as we unpack what just happened, in sweet, painful, silence.

"(Y/n) did you-"

"Uh-uh. Yep. Apparently. And you, uh,"

"Big time, yes."

"Oh, okay, so, uh, what now?"

"We could talk about it?"

Sirius Black wants to "talk it out". Yeah, we don't got this.

"Hey morons, you need to fu-"

"Yeah, thank you, Remus. We got it." "Yeah, Cheers, mate."

[ozzgin]

Heyyy just checked your masterlist and saw that despite you being into obey me! fandom, you don't have a fic. I'm married to Solomon in my mind so how about a situation where the reader (fem or gn your pick) is equally in love with this old man and begs him to recreate that time potion which made him immortal. Oh? Did i mention i want him to be a yandere? Please do that as well ^^

I love me my morally grey wizard ;)

I have 3 unfinished drafts for Diavolo, Barbatos and Satan on my Wattpad, but it was around the time I started getting Baki related requests here so I haven’t had the time to continue them. This goes for everyone reading, if you see a fandom title with no works you can always request something! :) This blog is only a few months old and I wasn’t writing much before (twice or thrice a year if I was generously inspired), so the variety is rather limited still. (I also finish requests at the pace of a snail, sorry about that)

Yandere! Solomon x Reader Headcanons

Featuring your fellow human classmate and now soon-to-be husband who couldn’t be happier about your wish to spend an eternity with him.

Content: gender neutral reader, obsessive behavior

It started rather subtle. Just idle curiosity at first, a mere feigned surprise that was quickly swept aside for more important matters. Sure, Diavolo bringing another fellow human to the Devildom, especially one without any powers, was at least mildly intriguing. Your situation was as tempting as a puzzle to fiddle with in between tasks. Beyond polite offers to help you handle the new challenging environment, Solomon was not planning on prying further. Then the surprises begun to queue one after another. To think that you had barely learned your way around and somehow still forged a contract with one of the devilish siblings. Then another. And another. Fascination crept its way in and the greatest sorcerer found himself begging to learn more about the mysterious (Y/N).

Naturally such fascination should’ve had an intellectual grounding and nothing more. What is it about you that has caused such a ruckus across RAD? All he needed was an answer. Yet he discovered much too late how embarrassingly involved he’d become. Childishly clutching his D.D.D. in the middle of the night, wondering if you’ve already fallen asleep, and grinning when the screen lit up with a response from you. Cancelling all plans the instant you’d ask - casually - if he wanted to join you after class to check out a new café. No, of course he had nothing else to do. Yes, it’s definitely a lucky coincidence that he’s always available when you want to hang out with him.

Once he accepted he was madly in love with you, he began fretting over all possible obstacles. The demon brothers, life after RAD. He’d never engaged much with other humans and his charisma only covered superficial pleasantries. How was he to properly convey that he’s - mildly put - obsessed with you to the point where rejection won’t be taken lightly? Uh oh. Closer to a threat than a confession. Thankfully the Heavens were gracious and you immediately returned his affections. No need for potions or hexes (not that he would’ve…he had them prepared just in case). He remembers it to this day, years after, the wide, innocent smile that you so generously bestowed upon him. Almost like a premonition, he knew you’d be the person to marry. Something he never considered in his long, lonely life.

You lazily lift your hand and admire the ring again. Solomon is quite clumsy and forgetful, but he goes all out for the things that matter. The proposal had been planned to a dizzying amount of detail and you couldn’t believe how much thought he put into it, with many aspects you otherwise assumed he’d forget or omit. Yet staring at the intricately carved band adorning your finger now, you can’t help the pang of melancholy blooming in your chest. Solomon lifts his gaze from the book he’s reading, sensing your discomfort. “Something bothering you?” He inquires with a hint of worry in his voice. “What happens after the wedding?” You demand, turning to face him. “Oh my. I personally prefer to focus on the present.” He answers with a chuckle. “Sure, because you don’t have to worry about your future. It’s mine that will end at some point.” His eyes widen and his hands are suddenly cold. He’s been so entranced by your company that he didn’t even entertain the idea of a potential end to it. He almost strokes his cheek to soothe the hard slap of your words, leaving him in a frightened stupor.

Oh no. No, no, no. Within the blink of an eye he finds himself standing before the alchemy shelves, rattling the bottles for the right ingredients. You didn’t even need to mutter a word. He knew exactly what you’re thinking of. How shameful of him to have caused you this distress in the first place. You’re young, and time for him has lost its human meaning, so your mortality hadn’t crossed his mind this entire time. He would’ve found a solution for it later, most certainly, but he didn’t expect this postponement to make you so anxious. His lips are quivering and his slender fingers are visibly trembling. Partly from the fear of almost failing you as your future husband, partly from the excitement of what’s about to come. He always imagined there’d be nothing more beautiful and precious to witness than you in your wedding attire as you tie the knot. But now? Oh, how ravishingly tempting and seducing, the fact that he can listen to the mundanely repeated words of “Til death do us part” and stare down its meaning until there’s nothing left of it. Not quite. Not for you two. The veil will be lifted and your face will radiate eternity.

After all, nothing will stand between him and his fated soulmate. What’s death to a wizard of his caliber?

[teardropsonmypaper]

To Win Her Back~ Pt1:Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: Steve and Nancy just broke up, an idea pops into his head. To make her jealous and his way to do so is fake date you, a girl who can't resist the offer he had made. A/N: This is going to a part of a series, I don't know long as of yet. I just got back into writing, I'm always accepting to feedback. Please re-blog and feel free to comment! I had so much fun writing this, I hope you enjoy! Word Count: 3188 Warnings: Use of Y/N, Parental loss, Sick Parent, The reader uses she/her pronouns and identifies as female, intimate remarks (nothing towards Steve and reader). I think that's all I can remember, lmk if there's anything else. ......

You walked silently to your locker in the ever-so busy hallway of Hawkins High School, people lined the walls, gossiping, making out with their fling of the week, or just minding their own business. Your headphones were blaring with some Black Sabbath song, making it near impossible for you to pay any attention to the soundsaround you. You were the silent type, but somehow in this small town, everyone knew your business, how your mother passed giving birth to your little sister 4 years ago or how your father was recently diagnosed with leukemia. Everyone knew everyone’s business and you weren’t excluded by any chance. You make your way to your locker, and open it collecting your belongings before heading home. As you walk away, someone slams your locker for you, loud enough for you to hear it through your headphones. You jump and see King Steve standing on the other side of your locker.

You quickly pause your music on your cassette player, “What the fuck was that for?” You ask, crossing your arms. Even though you were typically a quiet girl, you had quite the temper.

Steve smirked and ran his hand through beautiful hair. You never really talked to him, you used to sit next to him during your Freshman year, but that was the only interaction you had with him in high school. “Just tryna’ get your attention”, he said casually, the smirk still evident. 

“Why?” You asked sassily, arms still crossed. It wasn’t like Steve normally wanted your attention, you never thought he even noticed you, you really just blended into the crowd.

He moved closer to you, now leaning onto your locker,”I have a proposition for you.” You raise your eyebrow, curious. “And that is?”

“Nancy and I broke up”,he said, his smirk faltering a bit. You knew that, everyone in Hawkins knew, gossip spread like wildfire around this stupid little town. You nodded, not really understanding why he was telling you that. “How does that involve me?, Harrington.”

He suddenly became a bit nervous, his body language shifted, a nervous hand running through his hair, once again,”Um..I was wondering if you and I…god this is weird..um if we could..shit I don't know how to say this..”

“Just spit it out already.” You say impatiently, along with your temper you didn’t like to keep waiting. 

“I want you to be my fake girlfriend”, he blurted. At first, you feel your eyes widen,but then you start laughing. This has to be some joke or prank or something. “Gosh, you’re a real comedian, Harrington.”

“Y/N”, his demeanor turned serious,”I’m not joking.” For the second time, your eyes feel like they're bulging out your head, you couldn’t believe that Steve Harring, the King of Hawkins High, was asking you to become his fake girlfriend. Every girl, maybe some guys wanted Steve Harrington, he was the dream guy, he was an asshole 99% of the time, but it didn’t matter, he was hot and the captain of the swim team and star player in basketball. Every girl wanted him.

“Why?”you began,astounded by his question,”First off, you literally just got out of a relationship. Second of all, everyone goddamn girl in this school will willingly jump your bones if you ask them, or even look at them. I’m not that kind of girl, Harrington.” 

"Y/N”, he began,”That’s exactly why I want you to be my fake girlfriend, you’re the only one who wouldn’t try seducing me the first chance you get.”

I sigh,”Why do you even need a fake girlfriend?” I ask, curiously. 

He let out a nervous chuckle,”I want to make Nancy jealous,”he pauses,”Y’know show her what she’s missing.” You nod, understanding what he’s saying, but you can’t help but feel weirded out. You felt weird that somebody would even ask you to be their fake girlfriend,”Steve..I don’t know..it’s kinda weird and-”

“I’ll pay you!”, he blurts. You cross your arms and scoff, feeling suddenly offended that you offered to even pay you. He quickly senses your shift of mood and opens his mouth,”100 bucks per week, I know you could use the money for you dad.”

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose, frustrated. You did need the money, you were only surviving off of your mom’s inheritance and your father’s disability check, and the medical bills were not cheap. Your waitress job was barely even covering the rent at this point, you groan before finally agreeing. 

“Thank you, you’re a lifesaver”, he says, pulling you into a hug. You pat his shoulder, trying to push yourself off, you’re not a big hugger. You only really hugged your sister and dad for the most part. “You’re welcome”, you quickly change your tone to something more threatening,”Listen, Harrington, I swear to fucking god, Harrington. If you get any ideas into the fucking head of yours, I swear I will kick your ass.”

He puts his hands up defensively,”Hey, hey, hey”, he reassures,”Trust me, no funny business from me.” I nod, pulling my bag up to my back.

“I gotta go, Harrington.”, you started before trying to walk away through the now-empty hallway,”Gotta sister to pick up from preschool.”

He nods before calling out,”We need to make a set of rules, sometime”.

You turn your back to him and call as you walk towards the doors,”My house, 7pm, don’t be late.” You quickly make yourself to the back parking lot to find your old beat up station wagon, your dad’s turned yours. He couldn’t drive much anymore so he gave it to you, to run errands and what not. You hop into the car and turn your keys into the ignition before speeding off to the preschool. You were already 10 minutes late. 

During the drive you couldn’t help but think about your new situation, you were now Steve Harrington’s girlfriend, well fake one but nobody could know that. You find yourself groaning at the thought, Steve Harrington was the most popular guy in school and you were practically a nobody. You just faded into the background, nothing was particularly special about you besides your great taste in music in style. It was safe to say, you were different but not noticeably. You wore light makeup and opted for more of a 70s look, you loved the decade prior to the one you were currently living in. Everything from the music and to the fashion and the hair, you were in love. Most people called you dated, but you called yourself cultured. But now since you were now “dating” Steve, you were now going to be more in the spotlight.

You pull into the pre-school, quickly spotting Melissa and her pre-school teacher. You pull up to them and quickly get out of the car, ushering to Melissa. "You're late again, sissy”, Melissa nagged. You quickly picked her up in your arms,”Sorry Lis, got caught up.” You apologized and turned to her teacher,”Thank you for waiting.” She hummed in response as you quickly opened the back seat up and put her in her carseat.

“Miss Y/N”, the teacher began,”We love having Melissa with us, but you owe us almost a hundred dollars. We've been trying to be patient, but we need you to pay your bill.”

You nod and sire, tiredly.”I’ll try having it by the end of the week, thank you.” She hums in response and you wave her a goodbye before getting into the station wagon and driving off. 

The ride home was surprisingly quiet, Lis passed out in the backseat, apparently her day was exhausting. You hummed to some rock song on the radio as you drove home. Hawkins was a nice town, you’d have to admit, however it had its disadvantages. Like the town aesthetic, perfect and beautiful, however the people were annoying. All they did was gossip, about everything and everyone. Oh, you’re married to an alcoholic? Exposed. Pregnant before marriage? Exposed. It was like you were automatically shunned if you were different. You silently pull up to your driveway. Getting out of the car and carefully unbuckling Lis as you made your way over, carrying her in your arms to the house.

You prop open the door into your small abode and walk in. “Hey girls”, you hear your father call weakly. You walk to the living room with Lis still in your arms, “Hey dad”, you say softly as you find him sitting in his leather arm chair, the thing has to be older than you. It has been his spot since you , yourself were an infant. You carefully set Lis on the couch before turning to your father,”Long day?”, you ask.

He shrugged,”Just slept most of it”, he said,”tried to clean up a bit, but it didn’t work so well.” You nod sympathetically and place a comforting hand on his back. It’s been hard to watch your dad struggle, he used to be the most hardworking man you ever knew. After your mother’s passing, your father worked 2 jobs and made sure to come home after his late night shift, just to make sure he had tucked you and your sister in. But now, he struggles to move or do things on his own. “It’s alright dad”, you say. 

He looks at you and it pains you, his eyes are always glassy and he’s been getting more pale. It wrecks you apart, truly. “Pumpkin, want to watch a movie?”, your father asks. You nod, and sit on the floor beside him as puts on E.T, you both fall into a comfortable silence as the movie plays. 

Hours pass and you find yourself in the kitchen, making dinner as you hear a knock on the door. “Sissy! Someone’s at the door!”, your sister calls.

You huff,”I hear that, Liss”, you interject,”Can you get it?” You hear her groan before she stomps to the door, like you, she has an attitude. 

“It’s a guy here for you!” She calls. Your eyes widen as you remember about Steve, you completely forgot you had invited him. “A guy?”, your father chirps from the kitchen table where he is now sitting, filling out a crossword puzzle. 

You glance over to the clock hanging on the wall and realize it’s 6:58, you quickly set down the can of tomato soup before walking to the front door and see your sister interrogating Steve. “Alright, Lis, stop questioning the poor guy”, you huff. She looks up at you,”Wasn’t questioning”. You give her a look before she scurries off into the kitchen.

“She’s cute”, Steve said. You nod. 

"She sure is something”, you move aside and let him in. 

He laughs a bit. “I’m making dinner right now if you’re hungry, tomato soup and grilled cheese”, you say. 

He nods, suddenly shy. It was unusual to see Steve shy, he walked around with some sort of arrogance and charisma usually. You lead him into the kitchen and your father immediately takes in Steve’s presence. “Heh”, your father begins,”This is a first, my daughter bringing a guy home.” You roll your eyes as your dad chuckles at his own comment. 

“Steve”, Steve says, outstretching his hand. Your father takes it, amused. “Oh, I know who you are. You’re dad owns that big ol business”

Steve nods and your father pats the seat next to him, “Sit, let’s talk.” Steve carefully sits next to your father.You bite back a smile, you knew what was to happen, your father was going to interrogate Steve, brutally. You didn’t bring guys home, not since sophomore year,when you got yourself a boyfriend, Eddie Munson. You couldn’t forget it, your father was newly a widower at the time, but oh did he bust Eddie’s balls, alright. He walked out the house after, acting like he just confessed to a murder or something. You ultimately wonder if that led to your break-up, but you knew it was really because you were just better off as friends. 

You continued to work on dinner as your father tore Steve a new asshole, your father may have been sick but he still acted like his old self, busting people’s balls. Your sister listened in, softly giggling as Steve would get flustered at a question your dad asked or when your father swore. Soon enough you finished supper and placed it on the sable along with some bowls and spoons. “That’s enough dad’”, you lightheartedly,”Don’t want another guy leaving the house scared shitless, do you?” 

Your dad shrugs,”Wouldn’t hurt.” You give your dad a look as he begins to chuckle, you smile to yourself before taking a seat next to Steve. ‘Well dig in, guys.”

Dinner was full of your sister rambling about her day, everyone else digging in trying to pay attention to her babbling. You look over to Steve and see him listening intently to the four-year olds rambling, it melts your heart for a second.

She stops her rambling as your father begins to speak,”So, pumpkin”, he addresses you,”What is Mr.Harrington’s relation to you?”

“He’s awfully cute”, your sister quips. Steve begins to chuckle softly as a pink shade tints his cheeks. 

You internally groan as you remember about the deal you made with Steve, to be his ‘girlfriend’. You try your best to be on a smile before taking Steve’s hand to yours, you swear you see Steve’s eyes widen as you touch him. “We’re dating”, you try to exclaim but it comes out more of a question than anything. Your father raises his eyebrows before humming. 

“You guys are dating?!”Lis breaks out smiling. Her chubby cheeks prominent as she grins,”That’s so cute! That means you guys are in love!” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at that one, whilst Steve nearly chokes. “So in love”, you sarcastically.

Your father raises an eyebrow at your comment but says nothing. He takes another spoonful of his soup in his mouth before speaking up,”About time”, your father says,”You’ve been working too hard and worrying too much, maybe Harrington here might loosen you up.”

You let your eyes widen surprised, you never thought your father, the ball buster himself, would accept a guy for you to date. Well as he thinks you’re dating. You nod stunned to speak. Dinner finishes shortly after that, you help your father back into his recliner as you send Lis to clean up the table. You make your way back to the kitchen and find Steve washing the dishes. “You don’t have to”, you intervene. 

“I want to”, he says, washing a plate,”I insist, you cooked and I’m gonna clean up at least, as a thank you.”

Before you could reply, Lis beats you to it,”He’s such a gentleman, he’s your gentleman, Y/N/N.”, she teases.

“Melissa, shut it”, you say embarrassed,”You’re just happy because you don’t have to rinse.”

Your sister nods before running off to the living room. “I’m sorry about her, she’s a handful”, you apologize.

Steve laughs,”It’s all good, she’s cute”. You both begin to fall in a comfortable silence, you wipe the counter and sweep the floor as he finishes the dishes. You never took Steve to be the type to wash up or be gentle with a child, you always thought he was too egotistical to be caring or sensitive but maybe you were wrong after all, or maybe he changed. Shortly, the kitchen is clean and you bring Steve up to your bedroom to discuss the rules of your relationship. 

Once in your room, Steve looks around your room. Admiring the band posters of Fleetwood Mac, Black Sabbath, and many others that showered your walls. He stepped further and saw some of the artwork Lis had made that was pinned to a corkboard. “I like your room”, he compliments. He traces your light green quilt that sat on your bed, as you grabbed your notebook. “Thanks”, you mumble. 

You sit down on your bed and pad the spot next to you, encouraging Steve to sit next to you. He obliges and sits. “So time to make up the rules,” you announce, suddenly nervous,”1st rule, no heavy PDA. I don’t want to be those weirdos that are practically dry humping in the halls.”

Steve laughs as you write that down,”Yeah, no need to worry about that. We only need to hold hands and hug, maybe kiss on occasion.” 

“Hug? Kiss?”, you say with a grimace on your face,”Fore-warning, I am a terrible hugger and only kiss me if it’s absolutely necessary.”

He laughs at your remark,”Yeah, that’s fine, nothing you aren’t comfortable with.” You write that down as well. 

“You have to attend parties with me”, he adds. You raise your eyebrows,”Parties?”

“Yeah, it’d be weird if my girlfriend didn’t show up to them with me”, he points out. You internally groan, you did not like social gatherings but he had a valid point, so you complied and wrote it down.

A thought comes to your mind, and instantly you shiver at it before opening your mouth,”We are not going to have sex or anything along the lines”, you say, determinedly.

He throws his hands in the air backing away slightly,”Trust me, you don’t have to worry about that. You’re pretty and all but not my type”, he brushes it off. You couldn’t help but feel a bit upset with his words, not his type? That’s weird because you heard from a lot of girls that anyone that was a girl, was his type. You quickly right down ‘No sex’ onto the paper. 

“Last of all”, you begin,”No falling in love with me, this is simply to get you back with Nancy, alright?’

Steve nods,”Only if you promise not to fall in love with me, sweetheart.”

“Trust me I won;t”, you roll your eyes and write down ‘no falling in love with one another’ down. “I think that’s it”, you say before shutting your notebook down. 

“Alright”, Steve says standing up,”We’re officially fake dating, I’ll pick you up tomorrow before school?” 

You look at him with wide eyes,”You’re driving me to school?”

He nods,”Yes, Ma’am. I’ll be your chauffeur to and from school.” You cross your arms before opening your mouth,”Y’know I have to drop Lis off at preschool and pick her up too, right?”

‘She can come too”, he says. You sigh before agreeing. You bid goodbye and crash onto your bed once you hear the front door shut. A million thoughts were racing in your head, you were now Steve Harrington’s girlfriend and you were scared. This was out of your comfort zone by far, but you know you had to do this. You were struggling financially and Steve offered money, and in your current lifestyle, it wasn’t something you could turn down.

.....

A/N: I feel like there is wayyyy to much dialogue and it's a bit awkward, I accept feedback and requests! I hope you enjoyed!

[internetegoist]

Of Shidou Ryusei ; And how his character connects towards sexual trauma

(Content warning: Major mentions of SA/CSA and abuse, minor mentions for NSFW behaviour. Most of them aren't in graphic detail, but please please be wary of it 🙏 There's also spoilers for CSM and A Clockwork Orange)

Shidou's character is one of those that sticks with you throughout the entire series. It feels like we know everything about him, yet there's something so mysterious about his behaviour that makes you wonder, what's with this guy? We know how he acts, his violence and vulgarity injected in his brain and blood, but yet we don't know why he acts the way he is. It is very heavily implied that he went through a sort of restriction, born in a bird cage which he freed himself from through going to Blue Lock, but what is that restriction? What was the bird cage which trapped him? What was it that was holding him back from searching for freedom and exploring the world?

Since then, there's been a large speculation of theories on what his backstory could be. But one of them I want to talk about is about how his backstory is connected to SA, and how he could have experienced it at a young age. At first, I was extremelyyy hesitant to follow it due to how it made me a bit uncomfortable to discuss about, and how I saw a majority of people supporting the theory use it for shock value rather than a chance to devolve into darker topics. Of course, not the case for everyone who supports the theory, just from my own personal experience in the fandom.

But now, I can see the extremely, deeply discomforting vision on how this could be true in a way. From both his favourite manga and movie involving SA as an integral part in the story, to the concerning side of him being slightly revealed in the Egoist Bible. (Eg. crying at the end of the day, when he's feeling nothing or when he's empty, as well as his dislike of gifts)

Due to my heavy interests, I wanted to explore this theory into a more deeper matter. I decided to analyze more of his behaviour, as well as doing some of my own research. I must say, Shidou's behavioral manner can be one that is similar to those of SA survivors, especially male survivors.

Okay okay, enough yapping around. Let me get straight to the point.

Shidou and his instinct's responses

Generally after experiencing sexual abuse, one's entire personality will change. Every behaviour change is different for every sexual abuse survivor. Sometimes they'll isolate themselves more often, sometimes they turn into a much aggressive and violent person. Because the world has failed them, the world is putting them in a place where they are no longer safe and are more vulnerable. Because when your entire sense of self and personal power is taken away by your abuser, you are left with nothing but fear and new survival instincts. Why I bring this up is because Shidou's entire personality is built on instincts. His instant response to even the slightest hint of dislike or threat is to immediately beat them up, no matter who they are. A noteworthy thing to mention is that one of the main responses from males following sexual trauma is anger, because it is more socially acceptable for men to react that way. Attacking someone is the best way of defense, and Shidou follows this way of defense entirely. This also follows up with the stigma with the male ethic of self-reliance, in which help-seeking behaviours can be seen as cowardly or unmasculine.

It's most likely the reason why he also dislikes Kunigami's philosophy of heroes; Considering the fact his entire character is based on wanting to be free from restriction, he must have lived in an environment and/or went through a sort of restriction which influenced his ideals of "I can fend myself, I won't need anyone". The world he has grown up in was nothing but survival against the abuse he went through, so for what purpose should he believe in the principle of a savior, if he himself could have never been saved? It doesn't help either when in real time, there have been many cases where survivors of sexual abuse are either never believed when they speak out about it, or never speak out at all in fear of not being believed.

And besides the fact he uses violence as a defense method, one thing I noticed about Shidou is that during the time he was locked up by Ego for inducing violence onto Rin. We see him, perhaps for the first time, being calm and offering a promise that he'll make sure to stop fighting and hitting others, as long as he is let out of that prison he's trapped in. You see, a common reaction victims will use during the process of the SA is to freeze. To stay silent and still. It's like how animals freeze to avoid fights or further harm to themselves, or play dead in order to prevent getting eaten by predators. Although the outer self may seem to be in a calm state, the inside are on high alert, because they are afraid on what will be their abuser's next moves. The option to fight or run away may seem easy to those who haven't experienced SA, but to the victim it may seem harder than you think. Because freezing is a body's instinct response to abuse, and it'll stay frozen until the abuse is over, it's almost like a human's way of playing dead, so that the assault induced will end sooner. Among the instincts of 'fight, flight, freeze', Shidou seems to use fight the most out of the three. However, when necessary times come necessary measures, Shidou, perhaps for the first time, switches to 'freeze' instead of 'fight'. Not only because he basically, cannot physically fight anyone at that moment, but also because he is afraid. Afraid of being restricted yet again, afraid of not having the chance to live his life, which is to play football. The worst position to be in when you're being hurt or abused is limitation. You can't move, you can't fight, you can't run away from your abuse from happening. Nothing but hope that the abuse happening to you will end soon, that your abuser will stop hurting you. That's exactly what is so terrifying about the freeze responses.

Shidou and his sexual behaviour

If any fan knows anything about Shidou, it's that he's not afraid to speak out what's on his mind, especially lewd and inappropriate words. More or less, this can be connecting to something called hypersexuality. Accordingly, hypersexuality is defined as an intense focus on sexual fantasies, urges and behaviours that can't be controlled. Hypersexuality can not only cause distress, but also problems in school and workplace.

Survivors of sexual abuse cope in one of the two ways: Either by avoiding sexual or intimidate interactions entirely, or seeking said interactions on a large and unhealthy scale. According to this article, a majority of men who suffer from hypersexuality or sex addiction have been either physically or sexually abused in their childhood.

We see Shidou quite literally compare scoring a goal in football, to sexual intercourse. (And also the part where he says he's gonna blow his load, with Sae also dismissing it, but it's just partners supporting each other!)

By now, we know that two things that Shidou is unable to separate from each other is life and football. Both the act of life and the act of playing football is interconnected. Because football is something that allows him to leave a mark, allows him to be known by the world. Because football is a biological phenomenon to him, rather than just a sport.

And yes sure, this is supposed to be a connection to his philosophy of leaving a mark on others, so that you can be remembered. But also remember what he says in his monologue: "Those who create something, those who want to become something, and of course, those who make children." The way humans create life is through intimacy, through intercourse. The two people engaging leave a mark on each other through creating that life, that child.

And while speaking about his monologue of leaving a mark, Shidou also mentions that wounding others are a way of leaving behind a proof of existence. Inducing abuse whether it'd be physical, emotional or sexual, can also be one of the ways to make someone remember you.

The abuser leaves the mark on the victim, the mentioned mark left on them can be seen as PTSD or trauma symptoms.

Abuse is not something you can just simply turn away, forget or overlook. Whether the effects of trauma are short-term or long-term, they are there, they are a proof of existence that it happened. Shidou's inability to separate the physical act of football and the biological act of life's desires, especially sexual desires, can be seen as hypersexuality. Hypersexuality can also be seen as a mark left onto the victim. And it's extremely lengthy to recover and remove those marks left on you.

Of Freedom and Shidou Ryusei

I think Shidou Ryusei and his obsession with freedom is something so interesting about his character, yet so many people tend to ignore it as a significant part of him. Because imagine if one day out of the blue, your entire bodily autonomy gets taken away from you, you're trapped in a cycle of repetitive abuse onto you. When it's finally over and you have control over everything again, the world suddenly feels so utterly different. So what do you do? Of course, cling onto that freedom that is now yours.

Bite any other hand that may seem like it's trying to take it away, because if there is one thing you do not ever want to repeat, it is someone isolating you once more against the world. So hold on tightly to the freedom you now have, and make sure it stays with you for eternity.

All of Shidou's favourite things, his favourite film, manga and song, are also connected to this in a way.

It would take too long for me to get into detail about both Chainsaw Man and A Clockwork Orange, but I want to say that both media and their protagonists have approaches to freedom of life and choice.

In Chainsaw Man, Denji is a child that has been depraved of even the basic of human needs; Just like Shidou, he wants to claim everything in his current life and not return to when he had nothing when he was a child. In A Clockwork Orange, Alexander who in the beginning of the movie has been committing heinous crimes with no one to stop him, is captured and put through inhumane experiments in order to rehabilitate him. His entire freedom is taken away from him and for the next hour, we see him go through immense suffering and torture by those who he had wronged to the point he attempts to commit suicide through jumping off a window. In the end, it doesn't seem like his mindset has changed at all. It makes us question whether or not letting someone be free to do anything they want is the better option even if it hurts others, rather than attempt to isolate them in order to transform them into a better human being.

I would like to talk a little about his favourite artist. For a bit of context, hide is popular for being an icon of rebellion against Japan's conformist society, and one of his songs PINK SPIDER, is listed as Shidou's favourite song according to the official Blue Lock Egoist Bible. I've seen a lot of interpretations of what the song truly means, but the main story is that it's about a spider trapped within and kills anything near it. Because it wishes to free itself away, it steals a butterfly's wings. It attempts to fly, and fails, and tries again. Whether or not the spider did actually succeeded in flying away is unknown to us. But, that's not all!

Around the chapter where Shidou scores a goal, the commenter calls it a 'rocket diving header'. This can lead to one of hide's other songs in the same album as PINK SPIDER, rocket dive; a song with the similar approach of freedom but with different tones. Compared to PINK SPIDER, rocket dive has a more cheerful approach. In the end of the song, the star mentioned in rocket dive successfully flies away and appears as a new shooting star in the sky.

Which brings me to point out something: Shidou Ryusei's birthday is on Tanabata, a type of Japanese celebration called the Star Festival which is celebrated on the seventh day of the seventh month.

His name, Ryusei, is also a homophone for shooting star in Japanese.

Shidou, born as a star on the day where two lover stars meet, yet when he was born, he was not allowed to fly and join the others in the sky.

But he overcame everything, achieved that dream of having the freedom to do whatever he wants. And even though he went through all that pain, all that abuse, and most likely had to learn how to escape by himself through football before Blue Lock, he made it come true, like a spell.

And eventually, he learnt how to fly, and let the world knew who he was.

[ikemenomegas]

Levi decides he wants a baby. He doesn't have an alpha, but this is the modern era. Who needs an alpha to have a baby...

But the thought of a total stranger siring his child doesn't satisfy him either. After a year of thinking it over, he finally brings it up in front of his friends and someone recommends

You

Deeply suspicious of an alpha "chill" enough to simply stud for free, and recommended by his friends no less, he accepts an invitation to a group gathering where he spends the whole time not so subtly eyeing you and then pretending not to.

And when you finally get the opportunity to talk to him, you're so offensively nice, Levi has to hold himself back from ruining the encounter

But you can tell he has something on his mind. He doesn't tell you, but your receptiveness, laughing at his clumsy attempts at humor, it all lower his guard.

So when he finally meets you, formally, at a cafe with plenty of private space for you to talk, it's just a tiny bit less awkward.

He reminds himself that he doesn't even need your body. He just needs you to agree.

And he's so frustrated, because you don't. You want to "get to know him", whatever that means. And he knows it's reasonable. He does. But he's waited for so long. He's not getting any younger. And he's waited so long to bring it up and it cannot be so easy yet so impossible.

And again, you're so patient with him, with this frustration so deep that it nearly brings tears to his eyes.

Levi has spent his life carving space in the world for himself, surviving things that aren't so hard for other people, and it's painful, knowing that this thing is so important, that he can't just do this himself.

But you meet again. He wonders, mutinously, which of his acquaintances (...friends, temporarily downgraded) has turned rat on him to make you so nice, kind, patient, attentive, interested. In him.

Yet somehow, before he knows it, you've gone six months. Somehow, it's nothing like he'd expected.

"My answer is yes," you said, in a gap between conversation, cupping a lavender latte, a travesty but so far his only complaint today, between your palms. "But..." you hesitated, but then your resolve seemed to crystalize before his eyes, "I'd like to be involved. With the baby. If you'll let me, if you're open to it."

Levi knows his eyes go wide, and he knows he all but flinches, because he's never even imagined you asking this, never imagined asking you. That's not what this is. You're a donor, a practical stranger. That's what he keeps telling himself rather than wonder if he's just someone you humor on the weekends or odd weekday morning, rather than wonder if he'd rather you actually spend a few nights with him, instead of going through the procedure Hange had told him about, rather than wonder if the kid's going to have your eyes or your smile or your way of folding a napkin with perfect corners after a meal.

His heart is pounding and you look obviously worried, like you've gone too far. It's just...

"A baby is a lot of work," you say, waving your hands like you're showing him you're not a threat. Your scent turns placating, when did he start being able to scent you even under the scent patches? "Even with your family helping. And even if we're not mated, I've been doing research. They say having the donor alpha offer pheromones can help your recovery, and if the kid is omega or alpha, it helps them bond stably." You're babbling. This is surely not what he wants.

"You know what, never mind. I'm sorry. I know you value your privacy, and you won't need another person intruding on your space after the birth. It was wildly out of line for me to--"

"Can I think about it?" he chokes out before you can rescind the offer. "If you, if I, shit," he curses, his cheeks are flushed, but he's cold, but he's not scared. It's just unexpected.

You relax, but he can still see that you're uneasy. He's so stupidly grateful when you nod though and he wonders if you can scent him too, if you can taste it wafting faintly from his neck, that relief.

Neither of you manage to stomach anything more than another tea, and your smile is as weak as his joke about the second latte you order. When you turn your wrist, he can see the rapid flutter of the pulse there and he knows your heart is hammering. He blames it on the caffeine.

You give him space, although you continue to text him regularly. He's stupidly grateful that your texts are normal, even though he appreciates the effort it must take to pretend - because he knows you, and he feels the same way. It takes effort to reply, but he does, because he doesn't want you to think that he wants this to be over.

He's not running away. He's just thinking.

Erwin is no help, happily mated as he is, but he is comforting and encouraging, and being around Erwin's two-year-old, which is really not as bad as people say it is, helps.

Seeing Erwin's alpha doing the normal childcare things Levi has seen a hundred times and thought nothing of helps too.

Hange is clinical and excited about it, spouting unhelpful statistics about post-partum alpha-omega bonds, even between unmated pairs, and mentions studies done with surrogate couples. That makes Levi flush, briefly imagining he's having your baby and not his own, something he quickly shakes off.

Mikasa is surprisingly, or maybe not so surprisingly, level headed about the whole thing. The only thing she's never normal about has been her own mate anyways.

And she asks him the question everyone else may have also been asking, but he hadn't heard.

"What do you want?"

And then he gets to sourly sit through dinner where Mikasa looks at Eren like she wants to literally eat him, like down to the bone, and he excuses himself, wondering how long it will take until he's soft and sluggish, until he can't move so fast that Eren can't tell when he's moved.

Then he sits in his house for a week. He asks you not to call, not to text. To give him time. And you do, and he hopes that you hate it, at least just a little.

At the end of that week, he can't eat in the morning. He turns his phone over and over in his hand before he takes a deep breath, feeling like he's going to throw up.

And then he calls you.