#but i've just got the laws right here for my country

[itsevanffs]

listening to vocaloid like i'm 12 again while i browse law books for a very specific circumstance regarding child neglect leading to death. this is actually literally my idea of fun. i'm having a blast

[gavisuntiedboot]

We Can't Be Friends (but I'd like to just pretend)

Pedri x Reader

Part 1

Warnings: None

Word count: 8.7k

A/N: After a lot of consideration, I have decided to start posting my Pedri series. I think that I can get a lot of interaction with these, and I think it is a good way to feed my soul and get eyes on what is happening in Palestine. So please, if you enjoy this series, consider helping out Palestine. Even if it's just with a click (second link!)

(Also if there are any continuity errors pls pls pls lmk)

Operation Olive Branch is an org working to help raise money to evacuate people from Gaza. I have decided to highlight Anwar and his family, who need to raise $35,000 in order to survive. Please donate what you can:

I will continue to highlight this family on all my posts until they reach their goal inshAllah.

Synopsis: Moving to a new country can be a pain in the ass. So can starting a new job when your position is completely different to what you thought. But nothing is going to stop you from achieving your goal of being the next Law Roach. Not the language barrier, your aching feet on the wonky streets, and definitely not your annoying, full of himself client. Because everything is going to stay professional, right?

~~~

"Bryce, can you please pay attention? God, I hate Americans."

The slow and thick laughter flowed through the line, peppered with static and cutting off whenever a particularly loud vehicle rolled past.

"Self-hating much? You are also American."

"I'm Texan, sweetheart. We are basically our own breed. Now can you help me?" You were finally able to flag down a taxi, stepping in carefully to make sure you didn't flash the driver. The stark white of the flowy skirt contrasted heavily with your bright orange cowboy boots, worn to match the white "TEXAS" baby tee with orange lettering. Your bangles clinked happily against your wrist as the door closed, hair mused by the late September wind. It was a comfort-from-home turned fashion statement, a way to stay close to your roots but show everyone at the office you were the type of girl that people saved on their "cool y2k outfit inspo" Pinterest boards. At least, girls back home would.

"How the hell did you move to a foreign country without learning the language?"

"Because I was supposed to be in PARIS, remember? I didn't minor in French just for mierde and giggles."

"Yeah, yeah, and then Paris decided to self destruct. I've heard the story. Just put me on speaker already."

Through the phone, Bryce's Spanish flows fluently as she instructs the driver to deliver you at your new place of work. Style Di Fortuna was one of the best styling firms in Europe, if not the world. Located a mere two streets from the Passeig De Gracia, there was nowhere better for a young woman to start her career in the fashion world. Except you weren't supposed to be here.

The plan had been perfect. After 4 years working your fingers bloody at UT Austin, you finally turned the bright orange tassel and accepted your B.A. in fashion. You were able to say "couture" with the perfect amount of phlegm to be taken seriously by the French snobs you had interned with, the ones who were supposed to be your colleagues after you graduated. The dreams of smoky cafes, bike rides through the city, and the lights of Paris fashion week were often the only things that helped you push through your professor telling you that you sewed like a blind sloth.

But then the French did what they do best: went on strike. For months. And after the long periods of no productivity and the destruction of half the inventory, you got the concise email that you would need to find employment elsewhere. About a week before you moved to France. So in a blind panic, you applied to every job you could think of within Europe, desperate to not have your first year post grad be spent at the soup kitchen or bagging groceries. You finally heard back from one of your contacts, another alumni from your school who said they could get you a job in Spain, but it was a little far from the type of fashion you wanted to do.

A "yes please I'm begging" email and 24 hours later, you had a job with SDF. Hey, fashion is fashion, and if you have to start by styling TikTokers in sparkly mini dresses before you could get to the good stuff, so be it. There were dues to be paid after all. So you grabbed your already packed bags and changed your ticket from Paris to Barcelona.

"I can speak Spanish. I lived in Texas for 21 years. Just not... Spain Spanish." You said quietly, rummaging through your bag for the ID that had been mailed to you the week prior.

"Right, and my white ass took it in school and he seemed to understand me just fine. So you, Miss Texican, need to stop with the perpetual fear that people will think you're stupid. Be confident and just speak. The company is Italian, anyways. Most of them will probably speak English, and if not, they'll think you're exotic and sexy."

"Mhm I'm sure."

"You're going to do great, okay? Just be yourself. You had like ten billion friends at home. It's almost impossible not to like you. You got it girl - go hook 'em."

Laughter bubbled out of you at her cheesy pep talk, feeling lighter already. She was right - even if you had gotten this job on the fly, your portfolio was super impressive, and people had no trouble liking you. So what was there to be worried about. After bidding her goodbye and having the courage to thank the driver in Spanish, you stepped out of the cab to the front steps of the new building. It was much taller than the surrounding, standing out like a sore thumb amongst the lower buildings and pale stone. Making your way up to the 16th floor, you were quickly ushered past bolts of bright fabric, racks of shoes worth millions, and some very stressed (yet very stylish) other employees.

"So excited that you're going to be joining our team! It is going to be so helpful having some international input to make sure we are not pigeon-holing our clients into fashion that is not received well globally. You will be reporting directly to Katerina, and she will report to me. Your colleagues are mostly male given the nature of the division. But Tania, Silvia, and Maria should be a good support as you move into the role. We also have Juliana who is between here and the Milan office. So it isn't a complete boy's club."

Huh?

After years in fashion, one thing you definitely knew was that it often was not a "boy's club". Sure, all the suits and big investors were often old and withered men, but most of the creative side of the business had been run by almost fully female teams (and the exceedingly rare stylish man).

"I'm sorry, the nature of the team? What do you mean?" You asked, trying to keep smiling while running after her towards a more and more barren part of the office.

"Sorry, was it not included in your offer letter? You're working in our athletics division. We are horribly understaffed in that department, especially now that we have taken on all the Adidas athletes in Spain. My word there are a lot of them. Bellingham alone needs three team members for every event."

No no no no no. This cannot be happening. You had come in prepared to style a lot of things: prom dresses, lingerie, even the scraps of fabrics that were rented out by the local burlesque show. But sports???

Now don't get it twisted, this isn't some "I'm a girl and I don't know anything about sports!" kind of thing. On the contrary. You were at every football game rocking the longhorns, cheering on your friends as they crushed it at basketball, and even tried watching a formula 1 race (there was a three car crash and you fainted) - you were totally hip with sports. Although you were not a fan of stretch materials or athleisure, you were willing to bite the bullet as a first step. The issue was the hidden undertones of your job. It was the fact that you would be working with, from what you could surmise, a lot of male athletes.

Bryce was right - it did feel like you had ten billion friends back home. Everywhere you went, you spoke to strangers with ease, and people warmed quickly, conversation flowing and bonds forming. But that's the issue: everyone seemed to warm to you, and so it meant a lot of male attention. And despite your best efforts, you always made a "too flirty" comment to someone's crush or "inappropriately smiling" at someone's boyfriend. And so as fast as they liked you, suddenly you were public enemy #1, and the drama became all-consuming.

No one seemed to understand. There was constant advice to just brush it off, to ignore the people who brought pain to your life. But you couldn't help it, laying in bed, stomach in knots, questioning why no one could see that you were just trying to be kind to everyone around you. The cycle of worrying had created a very isolating experience.

"Tania! Where are the other girls? I want to introduce you to the newest member of the team."

A girl with blown out black hair turns around, double nose piercings taking a back seat to a piercing charcoal stare. She was in high waisted jeans and a leopard print button up, the first two unbuttoned to show off the black strap of her bra. Her neck was adorned with a simple gold cross necklace, and she flashed a cordial smile as she stuck out a hand.

"I love your shoes." You said sweetly as you exchanged a shake, eager to make your first friend at work (and maybe in all of Spain).

"Oh, thank you. Dolce and Gabanna - they're friends of the firm. Your shoes are..." She gave a glance to the cowboy boots you had on, "muy naranja" (very orange).

You crossed your legs, self confidence waning after she addressed you like you had traffic cones on your legs. You were introduced to Silvia (a tall girl with short blonde hair and vintage Adidas Sambas paired with boxer shorts) and Maria (dark blue hair slicked back to show off her Italian football jersey). All of them oozed the coolest essence, and you were excited to get to know them.

"Alright, girls, not too much chattering. Barca arrives in 15 minutes, and there is not a single jersey in sight. Lets go! Rápidamente!"

A gasp spread across the room, accompanied with a groan from Roberto in the back, and there was suddenly a mad dash. Stretch fabrics in a hundred different colors were flying across the room, and it seemed like no one could move fast enough.

"I'm sorry to ask but... what is a barca?"

Silvia's sambas squeaked loudly as she came to a halt, whipping her neck towards you. Her eyebrows knitted together, looking at you like you had just said Jesus was a goat.

"Who is Barca? You cannot be serious. Please don't say anything like that when they walk in the door. Just stand out of the way and do some googling. We will fill you in when the team leaves."

You stepped back towards the mannequins, trying not get trampled by the other employees. A quick search on Instagram gave you the basics. Soccer (or well, football now) team that was super famous. SDF was tagged in their post from their TV series premier, so you came to the conclusion that they were long time clients. You were so consumed with your search that you didn't notice the gaggle of young men enter the constricted space until you heard a chorus of voices chant "Bon Dia, Pedri!"

You glance up, trying to see the man that the girls were addressing, but he was covered by a crowd, which was comprised of Tania, Silvia, and girls from the other departments of the building (you could have sworn that red head worked at the café in the lobby).

"Bon dia, ladies."

The giggles that came as response were far too exaggerated for just politeness, and before you could roll your eyes, you heard the gag from beside you and turned to who was ultimately Maria.

"Don't mind the girls. They aren't usually like this, but their brain turns to mush around the magician."

"The magician?"

Almost as if planned, the swarm of girls parted in that moment, a pair of sickly sweet molasses eyes meeting yours, holding your gaze in something that felt warm and almost intimate. His stubbled cheeks spread into an infectious smile, and suddenly a gorgeous man in a hideous pair of jeans was giving you a subtle wave across the room.

"Pedri "The Magician" Gonzalez, current reigning golden boy at FC Barcelona. Who knew God could pack so much talent and trouble into such a small package? Anyways, the other girls in the office are obsessed with him. They all think they're going to be the special little snowflake to pull him away from the line of Instagram models waiting to jump in bed."

As you listened intently to Maria's rant about the sports star, the two of you couldn't keep your eyes away. As Tania and Silvia went back and forth, talking his brain into oatmeal, he couldn't stop himself from asking, "Who is the new girl?"

~

Pedri Gonzalez was many things: a generational talent, a laid back 20 year old, and (though less known) a shit-stirrer. These monthly team visits to SDF ranked very highly on his list of favorite activities. He was able to sit with his teammates as they watched some of the hottest girls in Europe fall over themselves just for a kind word or a prolonged glance. He just wished the boys would have seen the way they moved when he came in for personal sessions whenever there was a new Adidas campaign. Not even the king was served so wonderfully.

As the team bus parked outside the building, he lazily draped one arm over Gavi's shoulders, ripping his attention away from his phone screen.

"You know she does have a life outside of answering your texts, Gavi."

There was no attempt to hide or deny, just a continued scowl coupled with scrunched brows.

"She was really weird during the drive home the other day. After Martin was a little bitch on the field, she hasn't been the same. I think there's something wrong, but I don't want to push her away. I just want her to be happy."

"Ay, you'll have lots of time to make her happy after you confess your undying love in her passenger seat and kill her boyfriend." Pedri quipped back, taking a few careful steps off the bus and rushing into the building, the squeals of his name from adoring fans fading into the background.

"Okay, maybe not the best idea I've ever had, but now you do have work with Adidas and Springfield and all the other brands that want a piece of Pedri Potter." The nickname earned Gavi a light smack on the back of the head. "So in the end, I did you a favor."

The boys make their way upstairs, greeted at the elevator by Pedri's fan club.

"Bon dia, ladies."

"Bon dia, Pedri. We missed you."

Gavi tried to tone down the look of confusion that painted his features, watching these two girls trail behind his teammate in a way that was anything but professional. But there was a natural air to Pedri that had women swooning whenever he uttered a sentence, so Gavi supposed this situation would be no different than the one he had seen before in the club, at the beach, in the grocery store - basically anywhere Pedri went. He said a silent thank you to the powers that be that their types were vastly different.

The girls vying for his attention were promptly shooed away, with only the two who were actually part of their styling team remaining. Pedri scanned the room, making a mental note of who he would be looking up on the SDF Instagram once he was done for the day. He was a humble young man, but he wasn't self depreciating. He knew the number of women that wanted him was rising into 6-figure range, and he was not one to deprive himself of a pleasure that wasn't closely regulated by the staff over at Camp Nou. He loved entertaining the occasional tryst with an influencer or model or bottle service girl - whoever caught his eye for the evening. The world was his field, and boy was he ready to sow.

His newest playthings were his regular stylists. Since he was going to be spending a lot more time at the firm, he decided to at least enjoy himself a little bit. He dropped casual compliments, noticed the changes they made to their appearance, let them talk his ears off about how well he did in the previous match. Whatever they wanted he would provide. Why not? He was young and single. If they were to delude themselves into thinking he was going to settle down and take a wife at this stage of his career, then really they had no one but themselves to blame.

Tania and Silvia were nothing if not wholly entertaining. They always bounced around the office together, blonde and black hair making them look like a salt and pepper shaker set. Today, they dedicated themselves to dressing Pedri in the vintage Barca jerseys that were being photographed, leaving the rest of the squad to be dealt with by Maria, Roberto, and the bright spot in the corner of the office that caught Pedri's eye.

"Who is the new girl?"

He knew the question was going to cause the bile to rise in the throats of the two girls in front of him, who were already milliseconds away from killing each other if it meant he would take the survivor to dinner. But there was something about the flash of color that had caught his eye, hair falling in front of a pretty face that was glued to a screen and trying to stay out of the way.

"What new girl?" The response came from Tania, the more jealous of the pair by a mile. Pedri had often caught her stalking his account, his brother's account, and the account of every girl DeuxMoi "spotted" him with during the international breaks.

"Her. In the corner. She's new, right? That's someone I would remember seeing." He raised his head to get a better look at her, taking in the tight shirt and bright colors, watching her jewelry sway along as Maria (his least favorite in the office by far) called her over to help dress the rest of the team. The girls whipped around, taking in the same view that Pedri was.

"La naranja?!" Tania asked, disgust evident in her louder-than-appropriate tone. At the use of what was quickly becoming your office nickname, you looked towards the sound of the commotion, seeing Pedri staring intently at you once again. And while the depth of his gaze threatened to ignite a warmth somewhere within your chest, it was Tania's furious expression that had your heart racing in fear. You hadn't even been at work for an hour - what could you have possible done to have invoked such a murderous glare?

"I didn't think foreign girls were your type." Silvia said, much calmer but tone still icy.

"Maybe I just like the color orange." He replied smoothly, whipping off his shirt to slip into the one from 1980 that he would be modeling for the Barca site. The sight of bare skin was enough to make his playthings forget their rage, being replaced by lustful stares and lingering touches as they "adjusted" the fabric over his pecs about 20 times over.

"I think orange is a hideous color on girls." Tania couldn't help but mutter and she fixed his collar, putting in a couple pins so it wouldn't move as he walked to the photographer.

"I think the ugliest color on a girl is jealousy green." Pedri's eyes met hers in a silent warning. She was officially nothing more than one of his stylists. He was a busy man, and the last thing he needed was for his distractions to become a new stressor. He was notorious for being quick to cut girls off for the most superficial reasons, and Tania was not eager to be one of those deprived of his affections. She smiled sweetly, biting the inside of her cheek.

"Oh, of course. Especially when there is obviously nothing to be jealous of. Go welcome her on her first day - if she can even understand a thing you're saying. I don't think the American school system teaches Canarian." She left Pedri in that moment, calling sweetly to Ferran to come get dressed.

"Ay, Gavi, I knew you were short, but they can't even find pants that fit you now?"

The sudden voice behind you made you jump, causing a yelp from Gavi, who had been stabbed with a stray pin due to your scare. Your head whipped around, meeting that same smile that was brighter up close.

"Perdon, Naranja. Didn't mean to startle you."

Your eyebrows came together, a small frown on your features.

"I don't know what Tania told you, but that's not my name."

"I didn't think it was, but it's quite fitting, don't you think? A cute nickname for a cute girl."

The complement caught you off guard, and your mouth dropped open, reply unable to form in your mind. Was he seriously flirting with you? After half the office just threw themselves at his feet?

"Thank you, but I would really prefer if you called me-"

"Your accent is strange. Where are you from?" Pedri cuts you off, giving you a once over and taking in your figure, focusing intently on the writing across your chest.

"Texas. Can't you read?" You asked, growing more annoyed by the minute. Maria would be back any second to grab the boy who you were hemming, now identified as Gavi. You weren't eager to be seen as a slacker on day damn one.

"Houston?" He asked, accent preventing him from getting the "S" in the word quite right. "My brother used to live there for a bit."

"San Antonio, actually. But I went to school in Austin." As desperately as you wanted to make a good impression on your first day, something inside your chest wanted to make a good impression on Pedri, who was listening intently to the mini tour of Texas you were giving him.

"Is that close to Dallas? We are meant to play a game there in the summer. Maybe you can come along, show me around your city." He punctuated his sentence with a wink. You wanted to speak, tell him that Austin was actually several hours from Dallas, San Antonio even further. But your heartbeat was in your ears, and you could do nothing but nod along.

Pedri was not much better off. He had spoken to some of the most gorgeous women in Europe, maybe even the world in his mere 22 years on the planet, but something about the way you looked at him while speaking, eyes locked onto his, made his heart race in a way that was foreign but not unenjoyable.

"Hey! Hurry up - they need Gavi next. Or are you incapable of putting in a couple pins?" It was Silvia barking down at you, causing you to tear your gaze away from Pedri and back to Gavi's leg. Thankfully, the boy was typing away and didn't notice the break you had taken to chat with his teammate. "Pedri, stop distracting la naranja with your flirting and go get a pair of shoes from Maria."

You burned with embarrassment, the nickname turning from something affectionate to something sour, used to remind you of your outsider status as 'Cinderella' was reminded of her place by the coals.

"I was just being friendly." Pedri said, standing to follow her instructions.

"I think you have enough friends in the office." She bites back, shoving him lightly towards the wall of sneakers.

Your cheeks burn, embarrassment causing your hands to tremble as you continue hemming the trousers in front of you. Maria had gone out of her way to warn you that Pedri was off limits, and yet here you were again: persona non grata with your coworkers because some boy had taken an interest in you.

"You speak really good Spanish for someone from America." A quiet voice said from above you. Looking up, Gavi was gazing down at you, distracted by his phone every few seconds.

"I'm half Mexican, and most people in Texas speak Spanish anyways." You reply, trying to tone down the annoyance in your tone.

"Oh, I didn't know that. My friend- eh, physiotherapist also studied in America. She has this really cute accent when she says some of her words now." You watched his eyes glaze over in a way they probably shouldn't if he was just talking about his doctor.

"You don't have to make conversation with me, you know." You mutter back, scared that maybe this player was Maria's and you would sever the final connection you had left in the office inadvertently.

"Oh. I didn't mean to annoy you." The tone in his voice and his crestfallen expression made you feel like you had just kicked a puppy.

"Oh no! You're not. I just... It seems like I just pissed off the girls by talking to Pedri, and I don't want to make any other mistakes."

He laughed, eyes crinkling and head tilting back. "Pedri is a special case. When you flirt with everything that moves, someone is bound to be upset eventually."

The admission caused a pit to form in your stomach. Everything that moves? The romantic heat you felt earlier cooled into a slimy, sickening emotion. What kind of person toyed with people's feelings for fun? As you entertained the thought, you tapped Gavi on the leg, instructing him to hop off the stand and go get photographed. A shadow loomed over your form as you tidied pins from the floor of the workroom.

"So, I believe you were about to give me your address before we were so rudely interrupted." It was Pedri, returning with a grin, standing coolly with his hands in the pockets of his cargos. "Of if that's too personal, I'll settle for a phone number. Or an Instagram handle - I'm not picky."

"I can tell." You muttered back, unease still sitting in your chest. You avoided his gaze, chewing nervously on your bottom lip and directing your eyes to anything but Pedri.

"I'm sorry about Silvia. She can be... intense. And let me just go ahead and apologize for Tania as well, in advance. They're weirdly possessive over me for some reason." Pedri sounded sincere, eyes doing their best to catch yours and convey his message.

"Don't worry about it. I can see why you're so popular." You shuffled to collect stray pins off the floor. Pedri was not like any other guy you had ever been attracted to. Usually they were tall, lanky frat boy types, all blue eyes and khaki shorts. But the combination of beautiful brown eyes brushed by dark hair, chiseled jaw and plump lips, and strong arms that lifted a mannequin out of your way did weird things to your heart and your stomach.

"Can you now?" He was smirking. You could practically hear it in his voice, the amusement dripping from every syllable. He was obviously completely unbothered by your clear signs of distress.

"Yeah. Every girl I ever knew wanted to be the sugar baby of an athlete. Watch out or you'll get your bank account drained." Despite your best efforts to come across as cutting and sharp, he laughed at the statement. A full head thrown back and hands on his belly type of laugh.

"It's been a long time since I've spoken to a girl as funny as you." His eyes held yours, and the look was so captivating you simply couldn't avert your gaze. In that moment, it was also lost on you that you had, in fact, only made one joke. You responded with a half smile and heat radiating from you.

"Hey listen, a couple of the boys and I are going out tonight. You should come with us."

The invitation started to knock some sense back into you. Out? As in out out? Back home, going out usually meant getting shit-faced and riding a mechanical bull. It wasn't the best look to pull up to work the following morning looking like death and smelling like tequila. You were already on the way to holding the record for the worst first day in history.

"I don't know... I think Tania would put Nair in my shampoo if we were seen together when not contractually obligated."

You looked up shyly, and a part of you waited for him to insist, to feel somewhat special.

"Ah, I won't make you do anything you're uncomfortable with. Just DM me on Instagram if you change your mind. I'm not hard to find."

"Do you answer DMs from every girl that finds you?" You asked, rocking back and forth on your heels.

"No. But I'll be looking out for yours."

Another voice called out to Pedri, and he left you standing there slack-jawed. Who was this man? And what was so special about you to have piqued his interest? You asked these same questions of Bryce, who was now fully awake.

"Girl, the answer is obvious." She said through face time, words garbled by her teeth-brushing.

"Please don't say-"

"You're hot."

"That. Bryce, these girls in the office, they're stunners. 10s across the board. If he was going for looks, he wouldn't be going for me."

"I think you're over-thinking this whole thing. He just wants to talk to you for now," She paused to spit, "So talk! What's the worst that could happen?"

A shrill voice cried out 'Naranja!' and the trill of your new unwelcome work nickname was the signal that your lunch was over. You trudged back into the office, abandoning the warmth and sunshine for the cold front put up by Tania and Silvia. They bumped you every time they walked past, making comments about your clothing, your hair, the speed of your work, your taste level - everything. You stuck close to Maria, getting only two smug "I told you so's" before it was back to business. The boys left a disaster in their wake, with jerseys, trousers, socks, shoes, and all manners of accessories scattered about the workroom. Maria exchange stories of her childhood in Rome for your escapades in San Antonio and Austin, and the day passed with relative ease. Katerina click-clacks into the room an hour before your sweet release, huddling together everyone who worked with the team for a summary of what was accomplished.

"Great job team. I think Barca will be very happy with the photos, which will make me very happy. Now," Katerina handed out a series of files to everyone in the circle. "As some of you know, we have been fighting tooth and nail against Fordham Fashions for the new Adidas Rising Stars contract. Well, we have finally won! Here are the clients that we will be working with closely for individual Adidas campaigns, collaborations, and so on."

Opening the file, a familiar face grinned back from the first page.

"Everyone already knows Pedri, so we will move past him. Now, let us begin the style briefing for Bellingham..."

You stared for another moment at the bright grin on the page before turning it to take notes on everything Katerina was saying. The meeting wrapped 30 minutes later, with one final request from the boss.

"The new Predator boots have just come in from Adidas. We will be sending a pair to each of our athletes to allow them to adjust before we style and shoot in the coming weeks. And to avoid another, ehem, hair pulling incident, the new girl will be sending Pedri's. Sort the rest out among yourselves. See you tomorrow!"

The glares burned your skin before you even had the chance to process that the 'new girl' in question was you. Everyone scurried to the wall of blue shoe boxes as you looked over the brief again to find the man of the hour's shoe size. Pulling it out of the pile, you moved to a far corner of the workroom, but that did not seem to stop Tania from coming your way.

"So, you think Pedri likes you?"

The statement caught you off guard, hands slowing and your eyes widening at your coworker.

"Excuse me?"

"You think that now he's going to date you just because he laughed at one of your jokes? Because trust me, you're not his type."

You were prepared to rebut, tell her that she had completely misunderstood the situation, and you were just being nice to a client. But it died on your lips as the meaning of her words washed over you like an icy tidal wave, leaving you to pathetically whisper out,

"Why not?"

Her laugh trickled out lightly, delicate and beautiful and cutting all at once.

"Just look at you, Naranja. Anyways, this is a note from the agency that needs to be included in Pedri's box, so slip it in there, 'kay? See you tomorrow!"

Swallowing thickly, you didn't watch her walk away, staring at the table top to stop the flood of emotions that was clogging your throat. You knew you weren't ugly. Quite the opposite actually. It usually only took a coy glance and the bat of an eyelash for you to have people eating from the palm of your hand. But the self doubt started to eat away at you. What was wrong with the way you looked?

And then your eyes focused on the crisp white envelope on the table. The girly scrawl of Pedri was too... romantic to be a formal note. The green slime of jealousy seeped through every one of your veins. You took a quick look around the room, and finding no one, you carefully opened the envelope. Immediately a strong perfume assaulted your senses. The letter was a quick confession of love, and you couldn't help the increase in your heart rate. If your coworker was determined to hate you, then you should at least give her a reason.

Your childish antics came two fold. First, you tiptoed over to the cabinet with the stationary, grabbing a blank envelope and some corrector fluid. You carefully removed Tania's name from the bottom of the letter, writing in a little "S" with a heart beside it. You refolded the letter and placed it into the new perfume-less envelope. The letter found its home in the shoe box, and on your way out of the building, you dropped it off at the mail room. As you waited for your cab home, you typed five familiar letters into the Instagram search bar, and sent a message asking,

"Am I still invited out tonight?"

~

Pedri could not contain the Cheshire cat grin that lit up his face when he saw the DM from you. Scrolling quickly through your Instagram, he zoomed in on your pictures from the summer, swimsuits the same bright orange that had hugged your chest earlier that day. He responded quickly, telling you that you would be the highlight of the entire outing, and as he predicted, your phone number quickly followed.

"See, Gavi? I told you." He turned the screen to his teammate, who could not possibly be less interested. Being met with silence, he quickly snatched Gavi's phone from his hands, eliciting a protest.

"Gavi, this is an intervention. You need to stop this sad puppy behavior. After the sixth unanswered text, it's time to accept that she's not going to respond."

Pedri almost regretted it as soon as he said it, the sunken look painting Gavi's features being too much to bear. It was like taking a baby's favorite toy away.

"I just mean that she's probably busy, hermano. She'll respond when she can. Now, back to me."

Gavi rolled his eyes and leaned back against Pedri's couch. He displayed his most exasperated expression.

"Please, Pedri. Tell me again how you got a girl to swoon for you in a matter of minutes. It's always my favorite story."

Gavi barely missed the pillow chucked at his head, but pressed on anyways.

"Come on, Pedri. It's the same story every week. Find a cute girl, flirt, invite her out, sleep with her, and then block her on all your socials."

"Okay but this one is different. She's my first American."

Gavi gave him a look that told Pedri that maybe the joke should have been reserved for Ferran. Despite all the wisdom Pedri had imparted, Gavi hadn't listened. Instead of taking advantage of the swarm of women ready to show him heaven, he had gone and fallen in love with one of his coworkers. Sheesh. What a stupid idea. But he had never seen Gavi, or anyone really, care so much about a person. So he was being a good friend, just pretending that this love story wouldn't go down in flames (badum-tsss).

Pedri was not willing to be a hopeless lover boy. He killed himself on the pitch, and there was no way he wasn't going to enjoy life after the whistle blew.

"I just don't think it's an idea to start involving girls you're going to have to see again."

The statement cut straight through Pedri's daydream of what you would wear to the club that evening. Gavi may have been right. When messing with Instagram models, it was easy to avoid previous flings. A block online, a slip of their photo to Camp Nou security, and worst case scenario, when they came up to him at an event, he just put on his best confused face and asked, "Do I know you?"

But this was new territory. He had toyed around with Tania and Silvia for months now, but it never left the office. Inviting a girl who he would have to see again and again for work out was risky. But the risk-assessing brain cells were on vacation. All that was left were the party neurons, the ones that craved dopamine and finding out what your skin would feel like against his palms. So he pushed all of Gavi's valid objections into a dark corner of his brain. He opted instead to ask,

"So, are you coming out tonight as well?"

Gavi lifted his hoodie up to cover his face, using all his self control to not grab his phone from its place on the coffee table.

"I don't think so. I'm not in the mood to see Ferran or... anyone really. Just want to sit home and watch my show."

"Suit yourself then. I'll let you know how the night ends."

"I'm begging you not to."

~

You smoothed your hands over your dress one final time. You were pacing around your living room, eagerly waiting for Pedri to pick you up. Despite your best efforts to assure him that you could Uber yourself to the club, he refused, and you couldn't help the giddy feeling at the gentlemanly antics.

Staring at yourself in the mirror once again, you thought of the dates you had been on in your senior year of college. From darties on frat lawns to drive-thrus to fine dining, many guys had tried to win your favor. It wasn't that all of them sucked (even if the majority did). It was just that the guys back home in America were... boring. All of them were pretty self centered and shallow, nice to look at but nothing deeper. While a pretty boy was nice at 19, it was time to grow up and look for something more.

The buzzing of your phone knocked you out of the trance you were in. "Pedri from work" illuminated the screen as you rushed to answer.

"I was going to come in and knock on your door, but I can't get into your building."

You laughed lightly in response, apologizing about the door code while grabbing a jacket and heading downstairs. A low whistle greeted you, dark eyes tracing your figure with a look that you tried not to interpret for your own sanity. A shy smile played across your features as you allowed Pedri to open your car door, sweet talk you throughout the drive, and escort you in to what was more of a lounge than a club. Live musicians played just loud enough for ambiance, but not enough to completely drown out everyone chattering amongst themselves. The two of you walked up to a table of Greek Gods, which you assumed were his teammates.

Pedri introduced you to the group, making sure that his body was physically situated between you and Ferran. He was a good guy somewhere deep, deep down, buried under the anguish of his last girlfriend, who left him upon finding out about the pay reduction that came with moving from Manchester City to FCB. Pedri tried to stop him from taking out his rage on a coworker (and Gavi's crush), but he was hard headed and couldn't be swayed. Eventually he would calm down, and they could go back to being young and single and not bitter. Pedri's phone glowed with a notification from the boy on his mind.

[Gaviiii]: dude i foujd her outside my house just sitting in her car n cryng so im gonna take care of that

[Gaviiii]: dont tect me or call me im not gonna answer

The typos were normal, as it was hard for Gavi to avert his eyes for even one second when his most precious was in sight. Pedri shook off the text and turned his attention back to you, arm coming to rest around your waist in what was meant to be a comforting gesture.

You were not comforted. On the contrary, you were on the verge of throwing up. You were one of only two girls in a circle of incredibly attractive men, the other being someone's wife. You couldn't remember the names of any of them, except for Ferran, who you had been specifically warned about on the drive over. The devil really is a charmer. His short cropped hair showed the angels of his face beautifully, long lashes fanning against his cheeks. A few tattoos peaked out from under rolled up sleeved, and you had to remember that you were with his friend on a... what was this exactly? Pedri had never said anything more than that he wanted to be friends. But he asked you to go out with him, picked you up, gave you the pre-date compliments, and now was shielding you from other men. Were you on a date?

You tried your best to participate in small talk, listening to them go back and forth about football and training and life in general. The various accent were not kind to your brain that was barely used to the Canarian lilt to Pedri's speech.

"Are you okay?"

The whisper came softly in your ear, hot breath against you skin causing an eruption of little bumps. Pedri's arm had not left your waist, but now he was rubbing delicate circles into your skin.

"I'm fine. Just... a little overwhelmed? I feel sort of out of place."

"Don't worry, linda. No one can take their eyes off you."

The affirmation only increased your heart rate once again, the thump against your chest beating in rhythm with the base from the speakers. You were acutely aware of the warmth of his palm against your skin, radiating through the fabric of your dress. You loosened up as the evening progressed, participating in the conversation more confidently and laughing more freely. Slowly, the boys excused themselves from the gathering one by one, and soon it was only you and Pedri in the low light, talking about the most beautiful scenery you have ever seen.

He was lost in describing his home island, the clear waters and lush foliage that he called home. You leaned forward, enraptured by the passion that he spoke with about the places and people he loved. Slowly, you found yourself getting closer and closer, until there was only a few inches of space between you. The gold flecks interspersed in dark brown became clearer, and you struggled to breathe as you watched Pedri's gaze drift to your lips.

"I am getting the impression you want me to kiss you. Please correct me if that's not the case." Pedri breathed out slowly, more strained than you had previously thought. You don't know what you were thinking. Maybe you weren't thinking. You just acted on what felt right. Closing the distance, you joined Pedri's lips to yours, arms around his neck as you kissed with a hunger borderline inappropriate for the public.

You weren't usually this person. It was usually a couple dates before you would allow for a goodnight kiss, let alone the almost make-out you were currently engaged in. You pulled away from Pedri, the heavy breathing a commonality between the two of you. Maybe it was the being in Spain. Maybe it was that he was hot and young and famous. Maybe it was that of all the girls throwing themselves at him, including your coworkers, he picked you after an hour of conversation. Something told you to take a chance on what could be your love at first sight moment. So when Pedri leaned close and asked,

"Do you want to go back to your place?"

There was no answer but yes.

~

The following morning was filled with bliss. Pedri had woken up just as the first rays of sunlight were painting the stone. He kissed you on the cheek, whispering something akin to "see you around" before he left to training. You floated through your morning, making a coffee in a daze and dressing with a permanent smile. Bryce was still fast asleep, so you left her about 30 minutes worth of voice messages before you had the guts to step out and hail your own cab to work.

You walked into the office still riding the high from the night before. Your skin was ablaze, and every time you thought of the "activities", heat spread through you rapidly. Luckily the November chill kept you from sweating through your bones. Your bliss lasted for most of the morning, as you worked with Maria and a couple of people you had never met to create a mood board for an upcoming photoshoot. As you flipped through paint swatches, a piercing scream split the air, causing you to drop to the ground and cover your head.

"Why are you on the floor, Naranja?"

One of the boys looked at you with raised eyebrows, and a part of your brain registered that your new work nickname had trickled into other departments.

"Oh, sorry. I went to high school in America. Screams like that meant someone was getting jumped. Or shot."

Another scream rippled through the hallway as Maria helped you up.

"That was Silvia. Given recent history, your prediction about her being attacked might be correct."

The both of you scurried down the hall, the clicks of the other department workers followed behind you, eager for the newest and juiciest chisme. The sight before you made you stop dead in your tracks. Roberto was holding Tania by the waist, apparently the only thing that was keeping her away from Silvia, who was on the other side of the room crying and grabbing her head. There was a trail of silver thread between the two hysterical women. No, not thread - hair.

"She cut my hair! She came up behind me and cut my hair!"

"She's a traitor and, more importantly, a whore! I should've slit her throat."

Katerina had finished ushering everyone who didn't work there out of the room, and now she was standing in the middle of the room ready to mediate.

"You two have 5 minutes to explain what the hell happened and why I shouldn't fire you."

Tania had calmed, no longer straining against an iron grip and gaze filled with slightly less murderous intent. She released the clump of hair that she had in her hand onto the floor, revealing the absolute carnage that had taken place. Safe to say Silvia was going to be rocking a pixie cut for the next few weeks. Both of the girls remained silent. The prisoner's dilemma in real time. Katerina clicked her tongue after the moment of silence and simply said, "Roberto."

You could swear you saw a smile on his face briefly before he cleared his throat and began.

"Tania gave the new girl a note with her phone number in it to send to Pedri. Pedri texts the phone number, but instead of addressing it correctly, he says-"

"HEY SILVIA. THIS MORNING HE TEXTS MY NUMBER WITH HER NAME." Tania's outburst had everyone stand up, fearing that she was going to lunge. She remained in place, but no one sat back down.

"So you decided to attack her because he can't tell you two apart?"

"She must have done something to my note. She-"

"No." Katerina interrupted. "I have hear enough. Both of you are no longer working on any project Pedro Gonzalez is involved in."

Protests came from both of the girls, suddenly sullen and docile. They began to plead to be punished with anything else, but not exile from their favorite footballer. As they whimpered to your boss, who reminded them they were lucky to still be employed, it dawned on you. This morning. He texted who he thought was Silvia this morning. In response to a flirty message. After he left your bed. Maybe before he had even left the apartment.

There it was again. The nausea. The urge to projectile vomit. All because of Pedro Gonzalez. Fuck a nickname. He was a rich fuckboy that had played you like a fiddle. You held the tears back as you went back to fabric swatches, taking a moment to block him on Instagram.

"So, how does it feel to be Pedri's personal stylist now?" Katerina startled you, and the shock caused a delay in processing what she had just said.

"His what?"

"Well, now that those two are not allowed to be within 50 meters of him, it's only you and Maria working the Adidas contract. Especially now that Roberto is part of the Olympics team. So you get Pedri, and she gets Bellingham. Perfect, no?"

You nodded, swallowing hard to push the bile back down. This very unfortunate one night stand maybe have been the worst idea you have ever had. You walked through the rest of the day with disgust and rage flowing through you. You decided to brave the cold of the November afternoon and walk home, stopping by a bakery to get something with chocolate to keep the tidal wave of intense depression at bay.

How could this be happening? You weren't this girl. You weren't someone who let yourself be gullible and played. Hell, you had gone the last four years with all of Texas and parts of Mexico vying for your affection. But this little Spanish boy took advantage of the connection you felt, and he had barely left your bed before starting to text your coworker. Your phone buzzed with several messages in rapid succession.

[Pedro Gonzalez]: My agent just told me you were my own personal stylist

[Pedro Gonzalez]: that's good to hear.

[Pedro Gonzalez]: At least I'll have a friend at all these long and boring photoshoots

No mention of the night before. No "I had a good time". No question about your wellbeing. Nothing except his own self interest. How the situation would be good for him. Again. You felt awful as you pushed a teenage boy out of the way, barely making it into the bathroom before throwing your guts up. What the hell. How did you manage to fuck up so poorly so quickly? It was day damn one. And now you were throwing up in a bakery bathroom in Spain because of a man that's 5'9". You sat at a table, cake and coffee cooling in front of you. You didn't trust your legs or your stomach just yet, so you decided to type out a response instead.

Pedri was in overall low spirits. His injury had had another flare up, causing him to limp to the locker room. The email from his agent brightened his day, as he saw your name in the email. He shot a quick text your way, excited at the prospect of seeing you again, only to sour at the response.

[Naranja]: dont speak to me pedro

[Naranja]: we are not friends

[Naranja]: and we never will be

[You can no longer send messages to this user]

~~~

A/N: Here it is! The first part of the new series! Just some preemptive answers: I don't know what my posting schedule will look like and idk how many parts it's going to be. I hope you enjoy this first part. It might be a little rushed because I just wanted to set up the main story. Please let me know your thoughts in comments and asks! I'll try to reply to as many as I can. I love you all <3

Palestine: I will try to donate $1 for every comment that has a watermelon or an olive in it. I will keep y'all updated with how it goes.

Here are some more links to please please please look at while you're here.

Care for Gaza: an org that has been getting help and aid to people on the ground -> https://www.gofundme.com/f/careforgaza

Daily click that donates money to help Palestinians -> https://arab.org/click-to-help/palestine/

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Kalim Al-Asim - Platinum Jacket Vignette

"Happy 100th Anniversary"

­­­­[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Kalim: Woah! I've seen this artist's work before. I think we have a bunch of their stuff on the walls back home.

Kalim: So, the Land of Dawning's National Museum of Art's gottem on display too, huh. Hehe, that's pretty neat!

Vil: Oh, this… I think this is a painting of the moment when the beloved princess and the impoverished, yet kindhearted young man were set to be married.

Kalim: Yeah, that's right! The guy on the left is the sultan, and…

Kalim: Just so the princess could marry who she wanted, he went and changed the law for her.

Vil: Oh, hello, Kalim. I wasn't expecting you to know the particular details of the tale.

Kalim: The attendants back home would read me books with their stories. I really like the ones that have happy endings!

Kalim: Oh yeah, and did you know? The sultan here loved to collect miniature models.

Kalim: In his room, he had carriages large enough even a kid could ride in it, and statues of horses with wings…

Kalim: He even had a model of the royal palace! Apparently he'd always be playing with it.

Vil: Mhmm. Quite the childish hobby for a country's ruler to have.

Kalim: Oh, is playing with models childish? I'm always playing with mine whenever I go back home.

Kalim: Once, I mentioned to my dad I was curious what our home looked like from above, y'see.

Kalim: So then, he went and made a miniature model of our whole estate and a special room to put it in.

Vil: He made something like that just because you asked one thing… I suppose I shouldn't expect anything less from the Asim family.

Vil: But if it had its own room… How big was this model, anyway?

Kalim: Uhhh… I think at first, it was about the size of a magic carpet.

Kalim: Back then, it was just the estate buildings, but before I knew it, the land had been tacked on as well.

Kalim: And every time we added to the house, the model got an addition too, so it just got bigger and bigger.

Kalim: Whenever we'd buy new furniture, the stuff in my room, or my siblings' rooms would move around and change, too…

Kalim: There was always some kind of change whenever I looked into it. Sometimes I really couldn't tell what changed, though. Ahahah!

Vil: Even your furniture is a part of the model? Well, isn't that ridiculously elaborate…

Kalim: Yeah! That model is super awesome! The small clocks and furniture actually function, and…

Kalim: The roof and the walls of the model are made of the same stuff as our actual home, so it looks just like it.

Kalim: Water'll actually come out of the marble fountains, and even the trees and lawn are apparently made of real moss.

Kalim: Anyway, since it's a perfect replica of my real home, it really lets me feel like I'm a giant!

Kalim: Oh yeah. And on the ceiling of the room with the model, there are monitors and sprinklers…

Kalim: So night can turn into day, or it can rain or whatever.

Kalim: If the switch next to the model is pressed while in nighttime mode, the whole model lights up and it's so pretty!

Kalim: Also, we'd get miniature elephants and camels on parade…

Vil: Enough already! You've already convinced me just how special your personal miniature model is!

­­­­[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Vil: This is a painting of the Lord of the Underworld and his men.

Vil: From what I hear, the Lord of the Underworld's subordinates had the power to change their form and voice at well, and even could take on the appearance of children.

Kalim: Woah～ They must've been amazing. Oh, that reminds me, I once turned myself into an adult, y'know.

Vil: You turned yourself into an adult…? Do you mean you disguised yourself as one?

Kalim: Yeah! When I was little, my family and I went to go see a play and there was this one scene where a ruler dressed up like one of his servants.

Kalim: I wanted to try the dame thing, so that night after the play, I put my plan into action.

Kalim: Like, if I were to wear the household attendant's clothes and wear shoes with bigger soles, I'd look just like an adult, right?

Kalim: And then I even put on a huge hat and covered my face with sunglasses, too.

Vil: You really seem proud of yourself… And you're saying no one realized it was you?

Kalim: YEAH, IT WAS A PERFECT DISGUISE!

Kalim: They didn't even call my name, just said stuff like, "Perhaps it is time for bed, my young, esteemed colleague?"

Vil: They absolutely knew. No one in their right mind would tell their colleague to go rest in the middle of their duties.

Kalim: Eh? …YOU'RE SO RIGHT!! You're amazing, Vil. I never even realized before you said that just now.

Kalim: But then, how did they even figure out it was me?

Vil: I wouldn't call what you did a disguise or anything. All you did was wear your attendants' clothing.

Vil: Your behavior and speech were the same as usual, weren't they? Then there was nothing disguised. It was no different than you changing between your school or dorm uniforms.

Kalim: So if they figured it out 'cause of my behavior…? So then, I shouldn't've talked like I normally do, right?

Vil: Yes. Think back to the mannerisms of the attendants in your estate and how they treat you.

Kalim: Their mannerisms… Hmm…

Kalim: Oh, I think I got it! So I should've tried to speak more polite-like!

Vil: I wasn't really talking about something as minor as that, but… Well, I suppose that's a step in the right direction.

Vil: If you are going to disguise yourself as another person, you cannot just mimic them. You must completely change your mannerisms, speech, everything.

Kalim: I got it. Thanks for the advice!

Kalim: I know what I have to fix now, so… I gotta try again as soon as I can!

Vil: You're going to try again…? Here? And who exactly are you planning to disguise yourself as?

Kalim: Obviously, one of my family's attendants! This time for sure, it'll be the best disguise ever!

Vil: I think dressing up as an Asim family attendant would just be too conspicuous… But I do look forward to seeing how you pull it off.

­­­­[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Kalim: Woah! Look, Vil! There's a painting of a tea party.

Vil: According to legend, this tea party was ridiculously strange…

Kalim: It's super cool, don'tcha think! This is one of my favorite displays.

Kalim: It had teapots whistling along to songs, and plates that could be eaten after being doused in tea…

Kalim: On top of that, there was a cake that would fly up into fireworks as soon as its candles were lit!

Kalim: And their large table was just completely covered in all those tableware and foodstuffs! Awesome, right!?

Vil: …You look at that tea party and genuinely think it 'awesome'? It looks as though we have completely different tastes.

Kalim: Oh, you don't think so, Vil?

Vil: Mhm. That's because I like enjoying a quiet teatime.

Kalim: They say that the girl in the tale didn't even have time to drink her tea, so it sounded pretty fun to me.

Kalim: If I ever get to attend a tea party that's this chaotic, I'd totally be down!

Kalim: Ooh, or, should I throw a tea party myself? We can act out this specific scene.

Kalim: I bet it'd be fun to sing along with my dormmates as the teapots jammed.

Kalim: Oh yeah! Don'tcha think everyone'll be surprised if the teapots also danced and leaped around with the rest of us?

Vil: Yes, I'm sure they would be.

Kalim: Yeah, I can't just try to imitate the legends. It should be an even grander extravaganza!

Kalim: I'll have to prep a lot of edible plates… And a buncha different teas they can use to dip the dishes in…

Kalim: What's left… Oh right, the cake!

Kalim: I should make it a much larger cake than what the girl in the tale got.

Kalim: That way there'd be even bigger fireworks, and it'll get everyone real excited!

Vil: I can absolutely picture your dormmates running around so loudly.

Kalim: Right!? After that… Hmmm. Vil, you got any good ideas?

Vil: You shouldn't ask me, but instead ask your dormmates for their opinion.

Kalim: Yeah! Of course, I'll definitely check with them.

Kalim: But, I want to invite you too, Vil. So tell me, what kind of party do you want it to be?

Vil: [sighs] …I just told you. I would rather enjoy a quiet teatime.

Vil: Thank you for the invite, but I'll have to decline. Bye, now.

Kalim: Okay…  Then you definitely gotta come to the next party I throw!

Kalim: All right, which painting should I check out next? Ooh! Is that…?

Kalim: Yeah, just as I thought! It's artwork that shows the young man marching in a parade on an elephant's back!

Kalim: There were 75 golden camels, 53 peacocks, and a bunch of other animals and dancers following him...

Kalim: Looks like he was trying to entertain the whole country on the way to visit the princess.

Kalim: He went through all that effort just to make everyone happy… There's no doubt about it.

Kalim: This guy is definitely an awesomely good guy. I'm a real good judge of character, after all!

Requested by @starshiningsirius.

[youunravelme]

murphy's law sneak peek

author's note: this is just a look into what i've been working on the past few months (again, my b for being the most inconsistent writer ever). please let me know your thoughts! i'm hoping to finish this up VERY soon!! so here are the first two and a half pages of this fic! :))))))

mat barzal x beau's step-sister!reader (bc i'm not white and wanted to leave the reader racially neutral.)

summary:nothing good could come from sleeping with your (step) brother's best friend.

when anthony was traded to vancouver, you felt like the rug had been pulled out from under you. he was your rock since you were twelve when your mom and his dad got married. he was there when you finished your undergrad, and offered up the spare room in his apartment when you started your master's degree at columbia.

but with his new job back in your home country, you knew there was no way you could afford to stay in his apartment. after all, you were nowhere close to making the millions of dollars he did.

"don't worry about it," he said. "i have it taken care of."

what he didn't say was that the solution was staying in mat's extra room.

it wouldn't be that big of a deal, you knew mat just from the sheer amount of time he and anthony spent together. if it wasn't seeing him at games, it was out at bars, or in your shared apartment when you got home from class.

but despite all the interactions you had, almost none of them were meaningful. everything you knew about him started and ended with your connection to tito. and neither of you cared to remedy that.

it didn't mean you two were hostile, didn't even mean that you didn't like each other. it just meant that when tito wasn't around, you two didn't talk.

until you started living together.

the t-shirt incident

it wasn't intentional, you'd swear up and down that it wasn't. you recalled mat's text that he would be out that night and not to wait up for him (not that you ever did, but the sentiment was clearly communicated: stay out of the common areas).

you weren't even doing anything special that night, your boyfriend was out of town on a work trip and you hadn't met friends outside of the islander wags just yet (all of whom were busy that night). so you treated yourself to a shower and a face mask. you'd just finished washing it off when you heard the front door close.

truthfully, you almost stayed in your room until you realized your water cup was empty, and you might've let it go if it wasn't for the past few nights where you woke up craving a sip of water. but you'd like to think you were a considerate roommate, so you waited five minutes for mat to go to his room before you planned on going into the kitchen.

you didn't realize your mistake until you walked into the living room and caught mat and a girl, both shirtless.

to be honest, you weren't sure who screamed first, if it was you or the other girl. you managed to see her lunge for her shirt right as you covered your eyes with one hand and dropped your cup on the floor.

"oh my god," was all you could say.

but the other girl clearly wasn't rendered speechless like you were because she yelled "you didn't say you had a girlfriend, asshole!" before slamming the front door behind her.

you didn't move, couldn't move, too mortified to even acknowledge what you'd just interrupted. very slowly, like he couldn't see you, you bent down and fumbled around with one hand, blindly searching for the cup.

the couch creaked, followed by a heavy sigh from mat. "you can look, you know? nothing you probably haven't seen before."

you peeked between your fingers and saw mat pulling his shirt back on. you dropped your hand and stood up straight almost as soon as he was fully clothed.

cue the apology tour.

"oh my god, mat, i am so sorry! i totally wasn't thinking, i thought you were in your room by this point and i needed water. i didn't even think about what it would look like to your lady friend, if you'd like i can try to catch her before she gets in a cab and explain the situation?"

mat blinked at you. "lady friend?" he asked.

you shrugged. "well, she's a lady, and a friend."

he let out a dry laugh, though his lips didn't curl up in a smile. maybe it was more of a scoff? "friend is a bit of an overstatement. i don't even remember her name."

the room went silent before you caught mat staring at your chest. you glanced down and the urge to dig a hole and die in it crossed your mind.

the seattle thunderbirds logo was staring you in the face.

"oh god, our laundry must've gotten mixed up i'm sorry--"

"i was wondering where that shirt went."

you grabbed the bottom of the shirt before you remembered stripping in front of your new roommate was probably not the best thing to do.

"i can rewash it for you."

he nodded, but otherwise didn't offer anymore commentary.

so you scooped up the cup from the floor and sheepishly sidestepped your way into the kitchen.

and even though it took approximately four seconds to pour yourself a glass of water, you hid in the kitchen until you heard the telltale click of mat's bedroom door.

part of you thought it was best to stay out of his way the next morning, to let mat meander throughout the apartment before he went to his morning skate.

but then you thought about your childhood, and how you pissed anthony and francis off when you were fourteen so you baked them cookies after school and magically, everything was okay between the three of you by the end of the day.

so you woke up earlier than you normally would've to make mat breakfast. you'd made anthony breakfast before, surely mat's diet was about the same?

the eggs were nearly done when you heard his door open. it was only a matter of time before he joined you in the kitchen. you had his protein shaker bottle sitting on the island next to the plate of bacon you'd made. the toast had just popped out of the toaster.

"morning," mat said when he walked into the kitchen.

you whipped your head around to smile at him before focusing on the eggs in front of you. "hope you're hungry," you said. "i made breakfast."

you pulled the pan off the burner and placed them on a potholder. "wasn't sure how you liked your eggs, anthony likes his scrambled, so i just made them scrambled, hope that's okay."

he shrugged and mumbled a quiet thank you before helping himself to the meal you made and fixing his protein shake. you waited until he'd helped himself to the food and took a seat at the island before you said anything, just staring at his profile until he took a bite of the toast.

"i really am sorry about last night," you started. "it wasn't on purpose, i promise." you cleared your throat and made yourself busy by fixing your plate. "next time, i'll just go stay at someone else's place."

mat snorted into his protein shake. a sly smirk was on his lips when he pulled the drink away.

"what?" you asked, looking straight at him.

mat shook his head. "if you left every time i brought a girl over, you'd never be home."

you flushed and directed your eyes back to your plate. "oh."

you couldn't see mat run a hand down his face, but you could hear him sigh. "look," he said and you picked your head up to look into his eyes. "it's just going to be an adjustment. i'll make sure to text you when i'm coming home with a girl and i'll take her to my room as quickly as possible."

"and i'll make myself scarce until the morning."

mat shrugged. "i mean, you live here too, i'm not asking you to be holed up in your room, just maybe don't make an appearance in my shirt until i've at least told the girl about you?"

you nodded almost immediately. "i can do that. i swear, after today, i won't be a problem anymore! you can have literally all the girls over and you won't even know i'm here!"

if only that were true.

[emjee]

hiiiiiiiiii I've had three glasses of wine and here's a WIP preview of the fic I'm calling "Mister Rogers' Neighborhood (Library)" (aka Steve Rogers gets a library card circa 2011 and quickly learns about Librarians Vs. The PATRIOT Act)

“I can help who’s next.”

The next man in line at the reference desk of the Brooklyn Public Library was so handsome that Marian’s brain quickly supplied a list of five potential nicknames for him that the staff could use among themselves if he became a regular.

“Hi, I was uh, wondering about getting a library card?”

“Sure, I can help you with that! Are you a Brooklyn resident?”

“For a long time.”

“Have you had a card with us before? If you have I’ll check and see if you’re still in our system.”

“I did, but it was a very long time ago.” Neighborhood kid, she wondered, maybe just moved back to the old stomping grounds?

“Well, we keep the records for a couple of years, and we do like to check so we avoid duplicates. What would the name on file have been?”

“Is there something else you can search by?”

“If it’s under a name you don’t use we can try address and date of birth.”

“My birthday’s July 4th.”

A year would have been helpful, but they could circle back to that. “What’s it like sharing a birthday with a country?” she asked as she started typing.

“Well, the fireworks always made me feel special when I was a kid.”

“I’m sure. Do you remember what address we might have had on file?”

He took a moment to reply, and when he did his voice was calm, but soft enough that she had to learn forward to hear him. “I don’t think it’s there anymore.”

House fire? Gentrification?

This sort of thing happened from time to time—a patron came in who clearly had a story that made getting them what they needed less straightforward that it might otherwise have been. That wasn’t a problem; sorting that sort of thing was literally what the fine people of Brooklyn paid her for, but she was always curious about people’s stories. Sometimes they told you, sometimes they didn’t. She wasn’t going to ask, though. Curiosity or no, it was ultimately none of her business.

“None of that’s a problem,” she assured him. “I can make you a new card right now, if you have an ID and proof of address. Driver’s license would work for both, or a passport, state ID, student ID plus a piece of mail…”

“This is going to sound like a silly question, probably…” He looked at the ceiling, like he was trying to figure out how to phrase it.

“No such thing,” she said lightly. “Besides, we’ve probably heard it before. Probably ten times a day.”

“If I do get a card, does anyone…know? Besides you all, I mean.”

Marian sat straighter in her chair and immediately became all business. “Not a silly question at all. Any record that identifies you by name is confidential under New York state law. We don’t even let law enforcement have it.”

A genuine grin dawned  on his face and she immediately thought of three more possible nicknames. “Seriously?”

“Not unless they’ve got a warrant or a subpoena.”

“Huh. But it would have to be under my legal name?”

“We do need to have it on file, but if you have a name you’d rather use, we can make a note in the record. That’s the name your mail would come addressed to, and what the staff would call you.”

She watched him glance down, smile, and put a hand in his pocket.

“Yeah,” he said, producing his wallet and handing her his ID. “In that case.”

She set the ID on the counter in front of her while she opened a new card registration form and didn’t give it a proper look until she had her hands on the keyboard.

Well. That certainly explained a lot.

After entering ROGERS STEVEN GRANT into the record in a rapid clatter of keyboard strokes, she glanced back up at him and said, “What would you like me to put in the preferred name field.”

He gave it a moment’s thought. “Fred.”

She couldn’t suppress a smirk. “Excellent choice. Same last name?”

“Joke’s not as good if I change it.”

“Fair point.” She grabbed a fresh card from the drawer and scanned the barcode into the system, then saved the record. “Welcome to the Brooklyn Public Library, Mr. Rogers.”

[vaaaaaiolet]

You move to the big city in search of bigger and better, so naturally, you get your first place.

You just don't anticipate the roommate that comes along with it.

f / m, strangers / enemies to lovers, slow burn, hijinks and shenanigans, leon is bad at feelings :( but don't worry because there will be so much fluff omg like a romcom, leon being a little shit to a sweetheart pipeline, and banter!! so much banter

inspired by the Japanese drama Good Morning Call!

catch up on earlier chapters // read on ao3

chapter 4: legalese, chimney sweeps, and a partridge in a pear tree

a/n: this is a REUPLOAD bc i've been told my first post didn't show up in tags 😭 thank you so much if you read the original upload, it means the world to me :,)

I KNOW I TOOK FOREVER but i was fighting to get this written omg. so many ideas. my head hurts. if you can find the spiderman scene we are now due for a spring wedding. andrew garfield peter parker >>> but as always, i love u LOTS!! enjoy <3

There are all kinds of upsides to having friends in high places, but when your connections are limited to the four walls of Wok and Roll Ramen Noodle, the best you’ve got is Hikaru Uehara: an unlikely junior-year friend, the owner’s son, and law student extraordinaire. Apron tied with a clumsy knot behind your back, you slip inside the tiny shop only to meet his sharp eyes across the bar. Oof.

Hikaru frowns. “You’re late again.”

“I know, I know, but I’ve actually got an excuse this time,” you try for a winning smile, peeking at the book he’s currently nose deep in. 

“It’s always something with you. Still house hunting?” He slides a bowl of kitsune udon across the bartop, “Number 43, table next to the creepy painting.”

He shoots, he scores! You catch the bowl and head off to the hungry patron.

“You know, my dad finished our basement yesterday and we’ve got an empty room now. I told him I’d ask you.” 

“Because you’re offering it free of rent, right?” 

A not-at-all-subtle grin pulls at the corner of his mouth. “What about an employee discount?”

“In your dreams, Uehara.”

43 asks for an extra pair of chopsticks, which you gladly deposit before taking the barstool opposite the shopkeeper’s son. It turns out he’s reading one of his textbooks for law class. Perfect. You roll up your sleeves and bust out your CEO face again. 

Here goes nothing. “I kind of got myself into a mess.”

“I don’t want to hear about the thing with your fern and the toilet again.”

“What? No, ew,” you wave all associated memories of that away, “no, seriously. I found a place, but I’m kind of…stuck in it. I need you go all Elle Woods and help me because I got scammed.” And also broken into, but you mentally plead the fifth and avoid self-incriminating yourself. “The lease is forcing me and this other guy to share the place and neither of us know how to get out.”

That gets his attention; Hikaru puts down his textbook. “Okay, maybe you do have an excuse this time. What the hell?”

The Sparknotes version is that you and Leon both filed for the same apartment within half an hour of each other.

Number 44: cold soba.

Your landlady’s as good as fled the country. Leon can’t reach his either. Hikaru sucks his teeth.

Number 45: miso soup.

You’ve both agreed to share the apartment for the three months of the lease considering the mini fortune of money blown on the deal.

“$6000? Really?” he gasps. “You do know how much this job pays you, right?”

“Then pay me more!” you shoot back, multitasking refills while balancing a full tray. 

45 again: miso soup on the house. Hikaru hands you a mop for your spill as you glare, but pulls out his laptop all the same.

“Well, if you’re fine with sharing the apartment for two more months…” he hums, typing away and whistling in approval as he finds your apartment listing, “your place isn’t bad at all considering the price. Plus, you can’t request to move back in just like that if we lodge a complaint and you win. What if this Leon turns out to be an alright roommate?”

His question irks you a little. Why would you want the apartment back with a weirdly cagey roommate who shotguns (emphasis on gun) the master bedroom? You’ve got reason enough to want a place of your own after the shitshow that was college last year. You wonder if you should lay out all Leon’s teen boy-esque rules about not touching his things, but Hikaru shakes his head the minute you open your mouth.

“I know it’s not what you want to hear, but maybe the best course of action is to wait the storm out.” 

He sounds sincere for once, turning the laptop screen around to show you a 37-page long document with your building’s name embellishing the top. His fingers just keep scrolling, and scrolling, and scrolling, and dear God.

"That's the complaint form?" Your shriek rattles 45’s bowl worryingly.

“The first half, yes. Should I email you the second?”

Number 46 has the nerve to comment on your face looking more blanched than her bok choy.

That evening, you close the Wok and Roll with a heavy heart. Your phone pings as you double check the locks.

[Hikaru]: srsly ur best waiting out ur contract

Well damn, Hikaru. Friend of the year.

[Hikaru]: but since u asked (and rescued that last order)

[Hikaru]: i’ll still look for ways to get u out of there and on ur own

[Hikaru]: after finals tho

[Hikaru]: and once u start coming in on time!!

You pump your fist with a self-indulgent whoop outside the restaurant doors. Hikaru might be a pain to deal with sometimes, but he really did come through when he wanted to. Consider your now-thriving toilet fern that he put together a pot for, and soon with a little bit of luck, your eventual solo apartment life. 

You eagerly text back a thank you. Not even the winter air buffeting your face could put a damper on your mood as you skip back home to your apartment, and consequently, to Leon.

Or at least you thought you were. The apartment is lovely and warm and quiet when you unlock the front door. 

“Hello?” You call out for him, looping your scarf onto the wall hook.

No response. 

Leon’s bedroom door’s cracked open though, and the light looks off. It’s only 7 PM. Did he tell you he was going out? Crap, you realize how ill-prepared you’d been to not get his number or anything before you left. Rookie mistake. This roommate business is harder than you remember.

You toe off your boots and tiptoe toward the master bedroom. 

No messing in each other’s rooms, Leon’s phantom voice prods at the back of your head, but your concern for his wellbeing — okay fine, maybe you just want to peek at his stuff that’s so damn secret — takes over as you push his door open and slip into the darkness that’s making it impossible to see.

So you flick on the nearby lamp.

And then you scream. “What are you doing?”

Tucked in bed as snug as a bug and fully dressed, complete with shearling jacket, is Leon Kennedy with his face dirtied to high heaven. He blinks crossly as the lamp flickers to life. 

“Huh?” His voice is gruff with sleep.

“You’re sleeping…like that?”

He looks down as if registering himself for the first time. “I’m…yeah. Tired.”

“What happened to your face?” you ask, sounding reedy. “It’s filthy.”

“It is?”

You nod sharply.

“Oh? Oh yeah, yeah, I was cleaning the chimney.”

“We don’t have a chimney. Leon, we don’t even have a fireplace.” 

He fumbles out of his covers at your bug-eyed look. His room is absolutely freezing. “I have an explanation, I swear,” he starts as you back into the living room. Leon looks even grimier in the light: soot dusts his shoulders like powdered sugar, ages his hair salt-and-pepper, bruises the knees of his jeans. “Last night, I couldn’t sleep. There was something wrong with the heating so I went to check.”

Your room is perfectly warm. The house is perfectly warm.

He nods. “That’s cause I fixed the rest of the apartment, my room’s sti-” And then stops, narrowing his eyes. Whatever Leon did to fix the heating couldn’t have kept the temperature from dropping several degrees as he hisses, “You came into my room. We had a deal.”

“I had no idea you were even home!” 

“Doesn’t negate the fact that you broke the rule.”

Everything flips in a second; he’s glaring daggers, and the entire situation is so petulantly infuriating that you take his bait. The snow from your coat is making a melted mess on the carpet. Leon’s still in his stupid dirty jacket. The living room is half-unpacked from moving in literally the day before, and you’re already having your first argument with your roommate over stepping three feet into his bedroom.

“What is so goddamn important about the stuff in your room?” you finally explode. 

“You don’t get it.” 

“Leon,” you sound embarrassingly close to pleading now, “you wanted this – this whole sharing thing – but now you’re not giving me a chance?” You let your arms fall to your sides. 

Hikaru wanted to know if you could last three months. But as Leon stares at you, jaw working like he’s having a one-man argument inside his mouth, you wonder how you’ll tell your friend you couldn’t even last three nights. Frustrated tears prick at your eyes. You’ve never been good on the debate team back in high school. How long is it going to take for Leon to snap at you for that too?  

“It’s not you,” he says softly.

You smother a sniffle with your coat sleeve, making him sigh. 

“It’s not you,” he repeats, shaking his head to himself, “God, Hunnigan, you’re never this sloppy…” Shucking off his coat, he drops it on a box labeled Seasonal Decor #2 before heading back inside his room. He appears moments later with a box of tissues. “Take one before I get them covered in coal, yeah?” 

As you hesitatingly accept, you take in his form sans jacket. Leon is – alarmingly built, for one – covered in scratches. Bruises. Real ones. Fresh.

They’re littered along his muscled forearms, right up to the tops of his fitted black shirt sleeves. He’s so close to you that you even notice a silvery scar topping his right cheekbone.

“Are you…okay?”

Mystery swirls around your roommate like the soot he’s covered in. You ball up the tissue in your hand as his brow gradually smooths out, anger dissipating. 

“It’s my job,” Leon reveals. “Everything, this apartment, the stuff I’m keeping in my room, I…I work for the government, okay? This apartment was supposed to be home base for me. There’s stuff in there I can’t have anyone messing with. Stuff that could hurt you.” He pulls out a gleaming badge and lets you inspect it as your hand slowly flies over your mouth. “See?”

The gun in his pocket. The phone call. 

“But you’re not going to hurt me…right?” you dare to ask.

Leon’s eyes go wide, blond head shaking swiftly. “Never, I swear. Trying to do the opposite, actually, but that’s not going too great right now. I’m here to stop somebody from getting their hands on something that could hurt a lot of people.”

It’s a little surreal. Your once-burglar roommate turned government agent blinks at you like you’ll turn any moment, like you’re about to scream and run for the hills, so he can’t help but flinch as you reach for another tissue and whisper, “Can I?”

“Can you what? I can’t let you look at my things, again, I-” Leon tilts his head as you wrap the tissue around your index and middle fingers, and then rifle through the Seasonal Decor #2 box. “What are you doing?”

“Got it!”

You turn around, revealing a modest first aid kit in your hands.

“You keep that with your Christmas decorations?” He lets out a short laugh.

“I drop a lot of ornaments. Should really invest in plastic ones.” Fishing out a small bottle of ointment for Leon to see, you shoot him a redeeming grin. “So can I?”

He smiles. “You may,” Leon concedes, allowing you to settle him on the couch.

Leon’s bedroom seems to drop in temperature as the evening blends into night, falling to a bewildering 38 degrees while the rest of the apartment remains toasty. Ice might be frosting his windows, but thankfully, it only melts between you and Leon as you dab ointment into his cuts and he entertains you with sanitized anecdotes from his work around the world. The living room clock ticks to 10 o’clock as you two share the next best thing to dinner: a stash of rice crackers swiped from the back of the Wok and Roll. 

“There’s no way you’re sleeping with a jacket on.” You jut your chin towards his room, hissing in sympathy as he jerks from the alcohol sting. “It’s just as bad as sleeping outside in the snow.”

“I’ll sleep on the couch,” Leon munches. He holds out a cracker for you to bite, an oddly intimate gesture that he doesn’t seem to put as much thought into as you, “it’s plenty warm out here.”

“And have you spend the night on a lumpy sofa with a million bruises on your back? That’d be evil, Leon.”

He shrugs. “I’ve slept through worse.”

“Yeah, because you were probably halfway across the world in some random jungle!” 

“It was just the one mission, come on,” he protests, his eyes sparkling with mirth. “I’ll be fine, I promise.”

You shake your head. The tail end of his bandage tucks neatly under his arm as you finish patching him up. It’s been an eventful night, and with each genuine laugh you share with Leon, the more you feel like extending an olive branch for everything that’s happened so far. You even feel a little bad for the Lena thing.

“Sleep in my room for the night. Take the bed,” you suggest.

“It wouldn’t be very chivalrous of me.”

“And calling dibs on the master bedroom was?”

“I needed space for my equipment!”

You lift an unimpressed brow.

“Touché.” Leon gives in, chuckling.

So it’s settled. You pull out a mass of blankets from a box next to the fridge (Winter Camp Sophomore Year EMERGENCY SUPPLIES) which Leon insists on expertly fashioning into a nest beside your bed. It’s piled high with pillows from his own bed by the time you come back from brushing your teeth. 

“It makes me feel better about this whole thing,” he admits when you laugh at it. 

It’s either him or his pillows that make you feel warmer sleeping on the floor than you did in your bed last night. Leon's unexpected warmth might be your Christmas miracle to make up for this apartment fiasco. The stars twinkle outside your bedroom window as you drift off to sleep.

Deep in your dreams, you miss the twinkle of something else too. 

A ping to be specific.

[UNKNOWN NUMBER]: Hiding him from me already?

back to the chapter masterlist...

comments and reblogs are very much appreciated <3 take care and i love you!

[heavenlymorals]

The Tragedy of Dutch Van Dir Linde

Warning: spoilers ahead for both Red Dead games.

Dutch Van Dir Linde is one of the finest characters I've ever come across and that I think about a lot because in many ways, he is represents the dreams that people have and the awful reality of it too.

Heytham, what the hell do you mean that this manic, selfish, delusional piece of shit is like you or me?

Here is an example. When you were a kid, did your parents tell you that your dreams will come true if you worked hard? And did you believe it? I know I did. I studied often, got a great SAT score, joined many extracurriculars, did volunteer work regularly, got a part time job, had all high grades in advanced level courses and in AP/honor programs and I had one goal. To get into my dream college.

I made my resume. I did everything right. I listen to what people better than me told me to do and I waited for that acceptance letter- so confident that I would get into the university. Never once did I imagine that I'd get rejected, but I did. For a 17 year old kid, it felt like the world was ending. I remember sobbing myself to sleep, waking up, and then just laying on my bed disappointed in the world and the lies it fed me. In a perfect world, I'd have gotten accepted. Worst people than me got accepted, why couldn't I?

But I moved on. Life continued and I was fine. I was bitter, sure, but I managed to get over it and work towards better paths and a better future.

But what if I didn't? What if I got hung up on that forever? What if I fought the rejection? What would I have done? What would I have not done?

This little experience, one that many people have gone through, is kind of a microcosm of the much bigger human truth that the world will never be an ideal place due to the human nature.

If I was like Dutch, I would have fought the rejection- I would stick so diligently to the ideal that I believed in so hard, even though that failure was more than likely a guarantee. I wouldn't find an alternative to be better and do better things. I'll get hung up on a dream and never move past it.

That's his dilemma. He believes in the ideal, like we all do, but he will fight tooth and nail to make that ideal real while we will sigh and realize that life will never be the way we want it to be.

Dutch feels betrayed by the world, or at least by his vision of the world- especially America.

America was a country built on the promise of all men being born equal under God and under the law. All men.

That was the dream, the hope, and the promise.

What happened instead? The continuing of the institute of slavery, the massacre of natives, the monopoly of magnates, and the constant discrimination of those not considered 'white'.

It was disgusting and awful and it should've never happened- but it did and people tried to remedy it in ways that were gradual but real. They found different paths and different dreams and though there is still much work to be done, people are finding a way.

Dutch couldn't do that though. He refused to do that. He wanted the ideal and he wanted it immediately, even though it was impossible. He killed for his ideal, he robbed for his ideal, and he led people to hell for his ideal.

But it didn't matter. His ideal will never exist and he couldn't accept that- which leads to his end.

He won't be caught. And he didn't get caught by commiting suicide- a final fight. He wouldn't surrender to John or the Pinkertons, because that would mean admitting that his entire life was a struggle for nothing because his vision will never be realized if people like Cornwall or Favours or the professor continue to exist. Life was hell because of those people and the American dream did not exist because of those people.

"What a beautiful dream. So poorly rendered," - Dutch to Arthur.

And Dutch is right! From the very beginning that this country was created, it relied on an ideal that turned out to be a lie.

And Dutch couldn't handle that and wanted a perfect world that can never be realized and he tried to get that perfect world by lying and stealing and cheating and killing. What a depressing dichotomy.

Now, of course, when it comes to the personal motivations of Dutch, whether pride, hubris, narcissism, or any of that, they can all by factors to Dutch's pointless battle, but his motivation has always been clear and it never changed-

"Yeah, I know it's tough. You like Dutch. He's a charming fellow. He makes sense. He's like one of those nature writers from back East. Only he takes things a tiny little step too far. Rather than just loving the flowers and the animals and the harmony between man and beast, he shoots people in the head for money. And disagreeing with him. Now, I'm not a great intellect, but the metaphysical leap from admiring a flower to shooting a man in the head because he doesn't like a flower, is a leap too far." Edgar Ross to John Marston.

Dutch lived and died to create an ideal that would never be real because he could never accept reality and that is one of the saddest fates a man could have.

[medical-anon-whau]

Heya!

@bleedingichorhearts @kit-williams @egrets-not-regrets @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

I've got another life update for everyone. Per suggestions, I was able to ask the Ultramarine how I should dress when meeting with the person in charge, and dressed accordingly, which was semi-formal. I had to run out real quick to get an appropriate pair of dress shoes before the meeting, but I managed alright.

I was rather surprised that Stalker did, in fact, show up to the meeting, but it'd definitely possible that they contacted him via Mysterious Astartes Methods. He accused me of a number of things, and here are the list of "charges"

1) aiding and abetting a "Fallen" Dark Angel

2) refusing to allow an Interrogator Chaplain to complete his sanctioned duties

3) defacing astartes armor (Jerk is still covered in glitter. I have the paint and glitter bombs on my person right now in case be pulls some more nonsense)

4) Colluding willingly with an Alpha Legionnaire to torment a Loyal Astartes

5) Distracting A Dark Angel during the course of his duties.

Now, I'm no law expert, but I figured he might pull some letitigous bullshit and have been doing some research on my own. I wasn't entirely sure what the Ultramarine Base Commander was going to say in response, but I pointed out that;

1) In the country that I am living in and so are they, the lawful government does not, to my knowledge, recognize the authority of Astartes Chaplains when it comes to crimes accused or actual committed by an astartes BEFORE THEY CAME TO EARTH

2) they did not involve local law enforcement before attempting to take the Fallen in question who has been the primary caretaker for a chronically ill and weakened human in good faith for the better part of a decade. I also got statements from both the human and their neighbors about the character of the Fallen and his daily activities, as well as from my patient's family

3) he has been harassing and willfully intimidating me with the intent to scare - which are both actual crimes - for over two months now. I have been keeping as accurate an account of each instance and brought a copy of that journal with me to the meeting (I have several copies of all the information I brought with me, in case Jerk tries anything. I also left this Intel with both Fallen and the Alpharii) for the base commander or whoever to read through at their convenience.

4) talking with other people who he's also deliberately antagonizing to try and get him to stop is not a crime, and the Alpha Legionnaire (I did not reveal that I know for a fact there are at least three of them in that house - more about the third Alpharius later) is concerned for the long term effects the stress of Jerk tormenting me will have on the care I'm able to provide to his sickly patient, and had suggestions on how to get Jerk to back off when I asked for them.

5) I JUST WANT HIM TO LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE AND STOP HARASSING FAMILY OF MY PATIENTS! JUST FUCK OFF!

Noooot that I deliberately cursed Jerk in front of the base commander. I almost cussed him out several times though. The giant fucker is tapdancing on my last nerve.

The base commander was quiet and seemed thoughtful at the gathered evidence I had provided for him. He began talking in a language I don't understand, and Jerk periodically answered back. He started getting agitated the longer the Mystery Talk went on.

A half hour of conversation I did not understand later and the base commander said that he was going to be restricting Ghaliel (Jerk's Actual Name, apparently) to base for the next month, and to report him if he breaks his restriction.

That was two days ago. So far, Jerk hasn't been trying to scare me... I was also able to speak with one of the Librarians after the meeting with the base commander.

Apparently, I have a weak bond with an astartes. I really hope it's with one of the Alpharii. They're fun, playful and caring.

Oh right! The third Alpharius!

I happened to stumble across all three of them whispering to each other, the day before I was gonna meet with the base commander, during my shift with their human family member. I'm pretty sure they did that on purpose, as alpharius number 3 handed me the last of the character testimonies I was hoping to get for Fallen in exchange for two glitter-paint bombs.

I don't want to k ow what he plans on doing with them, his cackling was terrifying.

[shradsmanifestt]

hi, im sorry for bothering u right now. ive been asking around for advice everywhere because i really need all the help i could use right now. my anxiety is flaring up like crazy because my results come out tomorrow and im so scared because if i mess this up then my future is ruined. my mental health has been horrible and that has severely affected my grades but in most asian countries they dgaf about that and basically think it's nonexistant for minors so ofc i'm still undiagnosed, and if i were to apply to a uni i wouldnt get any good chances anywhere. if i could just get 3 Bs in my AS levels it would be okay or else i'd have to retake it and it's super costly here.. i don't wanna put my family through that because they'll talk me down, degrade me, destroy my self esteem which i've managed to build back a little. they were like this since when i was the topper and thats what made me burnout. undiagnosed adhd, trauma, depression also contributed to it

im applying the law, but instead of the feeling of success that everyone else gets i feel panicked. the 'feeling' people usually get when they're in the wish fulfilled state, the feeling of accepting it and it being real—im not getting that. i dont see a clear picture when i visualize. every time i try to, i end up breaking down and feeling like a failure... but I'm still trying to go on because why is it that the people who hurt me and practically ruined my life get to live successfully, while i suffer? thats not fair... i promised myself that if i could just get 3 Bs, ill turn my life around and work really hard... but is it over for me? i want to win, im trying to, but im scared

im trying my best to visualize myself getting 3 Bs, reenacting my friends faces when i get the results, praying to God and thanking Him for blessing me and continuing to bless me, but there is this fear still lingering at the back of my mind... i feel like I'm not doing it right. i have like one day left and I'm so nervous. im going over posts, tweets, and every time I feel a little better, it all comes crashing down because of doubts. theres only one thing one my mind right now: 'how am I gonna turn it around in one day?' i know that the 3D does not matter and that everything is done in imagination, but here i feel like its not done in imagination either

right now nothings clicking in my head, whatever i read is getting scrambled in my mind, i feel so lost and empty. could u please tell me what to do in this specific situation? u can be as harsh as you want if that's what's needed to get the point across. im really sorry for the bother and id be really grateful if u could please help out, ive never been this desperate before... my life cant be over before it even started

Hey love,

I get you, I really do but trust me when I say this.

THIS SHIT IS REAL AF. Manifestation is real af. It's as real as the fact that you are a human being. All you have to do is trust yourself that it is already done. If good results is what you want then that is exactly what you'll get. You need to choose to stop having doubts because it is already done. That is the simplest answer I can give you. Persist on what you want.

I am glad to tell you this but I just got test results for a major exam held in my uni today and I got into the 95th percentile just by saying to myself that my super power is aptitude tests and that I already scored great. In my friends group only 3 of us were eligible and I have 70+ more marks then them as well. If I can do it, you can do it. You need to stop doubting yourself. Atleast stop doubting manifestation. Cause at this point you're only gonna manifest your doubts.

I'll give you a scenario - If you're worried about getting bad grades, Trust me when I say this you're gonna manifest exactly that coz you will manifest exactly what you assume. You can choose to stop that right here, RN. Choose to accept that you got great marks. I mean don't even like aim for B's go for A's. I don't care even if you left the paper blank coz if you assume you're the topper, that is exactly what's gonna happen.

If you do get bad marks and I'm gonna be harsh here - You're the only reason why! You're gonna manifest exactly what you assume to be true even if it's good or bad. Your sc mind don't differentiate btw what's good for you or what's bad for you. It only knows what you feed it.

You got this, TRUST ME

Love, Shrads.

[matan4il]

Thank you for your daily updates.

I've been seeing people discussing why/not the ICJ case is valid, but nothing on how the judges are likely to rule, a discussion that happens often when there is a big SCOTUS case.

What of their temperaments? Sure there's a Lebanese judge, that doesn't inherently make him antisemitic. Do you know if the judges are more "left" or "right?" My hopes are not high, considering they refuse to see evidence of the actual Oct 7 massacres (shame, since Hamas really wanted that broadcasted).

Hi Nonnie,

I usually try to reply to asks at the same order I got them, but I'll make an exception, because of how relevant this is to the current proceedings at the ICJ right now.

I don't think that being Muslim makes anyone inherently biased, nor do I think being Jewish means a person is free of the antisemitism of their environment, so I generally believe it's impossible for judges to be completely disconnected from what their country's position is. I believe the ICJ recognizes this as well, and that's why, a country that is suing or sued at the ICJ without having a representation among the permanent judges, has the right to appoint one. Specifically when it comes to Lebanon, I have to admit that IDK how possible it is for the Lebanese judge to ignore the fact that his country has for decades implemented an actual apartheid, a legally imposed policy of discrimination against Palestinians who live there.

Well, for this trial, we have an Israeli judge, a SA judge, and the 15 permanent judges. Here's one analysis about the 15 that I read:

American judge: had worked as a legal advisor to the administrations of Clinton and Obama, believes the scope of international law is limited (so she's less likely to grant SA a provisional measure that's a legal precedent).

Russian judge: advises Russia on two legal matters (regarding Georgia, and Kosovo), believes the scope of international law should be wider, has voted against demanding of Russia to stop the military operation in Ukraine, and has published independently his opinion that the ICJ has no right to judge the Russia-Ukraine conflict, because Russia didn't recognize its authority on this. Has visited Israel in 2015 for an international space conference, and together with 2 other ICJ judges, has conducted a "trial" regarding space law.

Slovak judge: sees the scope of international law as narrower, in the past he indicated that he thinks the crime of committing a genocide can't be decided in this court (that it should be in a criminal one), he has also said that quotes uttered in "the heat of battle" (the kind at the basis of SA's lawsuit) are not indicative of policy intent, they're just war propaganda. Has visited Israel in 2015 for an international space conference, and together with 2 other ICJ judges, has conducted a "trial" regarding space law.

French judge: Jewish, considered critical of Israel. In the past, while arguing against Israel, he has also said that the conflict here is political by nature and that the involvement of the ICJ in it is unhelpful to dialogue between the parties.

Moroccan judge: in the past, his decisions included non-legal considerations (for example, he said he's not sure Ukraine's move against Russia fits the convention on the prevention of genocide, but he still was in favor of granting Ukraine the provisional measures it was asking for). He was also a minority vote in the matter of whether the Serbs committed a genocide against the Bosnian Muslims, where the majority determined that the conditions to define it as such were not met.

Somali judge: there are no past indications of how he might rule from an international law perspective. He's Muslim, but in the past he has joined an Iftar dinner at the home of the Israeli ambassador at the Hague, and has also once opened a Holocaust Day lecture for the ICJ.

Chinese judge: has worked for her government in the past. She has voted against the provisional measures Ukraine has asked for against Russia, saying that it seems like an attempt to use the convention in order to get the ICJ to decide in broader political matters than the convention allows for. She has also argued against provisional measures that only demand one side would stop the fighting.

Ugandan judge: has worked for her government in the past. There are no past indications of how she might rule from an international law perspective.

Indian judge: tends towards an expanded view of what is discrimination. Has visited Israel in 2015 for an international space conference, and together with 2 other ICJ judges, has conducted a "trial" regarding space law.

Jamaican judge: has worked for his government in the past. Has voted against Russia when it came to the provisional measures demanding it stops its fighting against Ukraine.

Lebanese judge: has expressed anti-Israel views in the past, and has also repeatedly shown that he takes his country's position into account in his decisions. Has argued in the past that in situations of military occupation, the burden of proof is very low, or that the burden of proof should be on the occupier.

German judge: in the past, he has published his opposition to an Israeli law professor's article, arguing that a wider view is required when it comes to the right to self defense.

Japanese judge: in the past, he has published an article that sees the right of third party countries to appear before the ICJ (as is SA in this case) as limited.

Australian judge: very active in the field of women and gender rights. In the past, she has criticized ICJ rulings that allowed the coalition forces a lot of freedom in Iraq.

Brazilian judge: in the past, he has referred to the PLO as a terrorist organization (at the time about which he was writing), but he did the same regarding the Jewish underground movement, the Hagana (which worked to protect Jews, and to smuggle them "illegally" into the Land of Israel to save them from the Nazis during WWII).

According to one legal correspondent that I listened to, SA has asked for so many provisional measures, that the ICJ is unlikely to turn them all down. This reporter believes that the ICJ will likely not grant the provisional measure calling on Israel to stop the fighting, but it will probably grant at least two other provisional measures. She had a bet which two, the provisional measure calling on more humanitarian aid to be brought into Gaza (if true, this would be so redundant. One of the points made at the ICJ proceedings, was that Israel has agreed to allow in as much humanitarian aid as could be taken in on the Gazan side, and was willing to expand its operations on the Israeli side for this to happen. In other words, what's currently limiting the amount of aid going in is the capacity to handle it on the Gazan, not Israeli, side), and to collect evidence regarding the fighting in Gaza (which Israel is already doing).

I hope this helped! xoxox

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

[scrambledpancakes03]

Before the presidential debate...

I've got some thoughts.

While I know that even the "best" presidential outcome feels like a loss at this point, you do have to vote.

I totally understand not wanting to vote for Joe. There are a lot of reasons for that, some more valid than others. That's not my point rn. There's many genocides happening: read how joe is handling it from verified sources and make your own choices, I trust you'll do what you think is right. I'll just be here full of endless dread no matter what...

But for fucks sake before we all lose hope please remember...

Vote down ballot.

Conservatives win repeatedly all over the country and have been able to make life substantially harder for every individual working person, especially those with marginalized statuses... and it's not primarily due to the shit they've pulled in the Oval Office... it's because they're getting elected to sheriff's offices and school boards and zoning commissions and STATE LEGISLATURES.

Don't let your disillusionment with the president keep you from showing up for candidates you won't hear about from national news... because they are the ones who can save us.

Without progressives, leftists, and even more moderate liberals in local offices, every aspect of life gets substantially harder. Local programs shut down, public services are cut from city budgets, and police keep getting more and more absurd militarized resources. And in that environment, how would we ever stand in solidarity with people suffering around the world? Or even people marginalized here in the US?

Here are some (but not all) elected offices that may be on your ballot in the fall that need your attention in no particular order:

1. Secretary of state: oversees the states record keeping... including voting. Don't let them be fascists.

2. School Board: they decide pretty much everything to do with public school's funding, curriculum, and sometimes even personnel matters or district geography. They decide what your kids learn, where, how, and with whom. Don't let them be bigots.

3. District Attorney/Prosecutor: they decide what crimes have charges brought against them, and in what manner. They're the difference between a teenage kid being tried as an adult or a child for a felony, as well as other matters like that. Don't let them be racist.

4. Sheriff: have insane amounts of power over how criminal investigations are conducted and how a community is policed. FOR FUCKS SAKE STOP ELECTING RACISTS. Also we should just... reconsider the concept and maybe try not having sheriff offices at all. But that's a whole different goal.

5. Planning and zoning commissions: if you are struggling to get housing or stay housed, they are the reason there is little to no affordable housing in your area, because they decide what gets built or maintained in your area. Businesses, parks, houses... yeah. Don't let them be corporate puppets.

6. Public works commission: they control the utilities, the water, the trash, and the recycling. This is one of the main places the environmental movement should be looking to make change. They write regulations that can be used and enforced to reign whole groups of people and corporations in to make real collective change in the way we generate power, consume resources, and manage waste. They are also how we prevent more crisis situations like the one in Flint, MI.

7. City, state, and federal legislators. They write the laws. They appropriate the spending of your tax money. Stop narrowing your focus to the federal executive branch when the left needs to gain momentum writing laws at every level. Don't discount local change, because it adds up.

I know we are all focused on the genocides going on around the world right now. The best way we can continue helping as November comes and goes, is to elect local leaders who will support global liberation by writing laws and regulations that protect our free speech, ensure the quality and equity of our education, and commit to divestment from violence all over the world.

Okay? We all got this?

Can we all just agree to do this part, and we can fight about biden separately, please?

TLDR: Fuck you, vote in all the local races.

[tojiscumdumpster]

⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ vi. reader/suguru

⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⭑๋࣭ summary page

Reader

These past few weeks have been interesting, to say the least. After randomly seeing Suguru at my cousin-in-law’s party,  and watching Toji beat him up, let’s just say I've been a bit on edge. Not as much as my husband, though. 

 I know how overprotective Toji can be. He’s been this way before we started officially dating. Most women would hate how possessive and overbearing their partners can be, but not me. Something about how Toji acts makes me even more attracted to him. 

 His hold on me. His jealousy. His gruffness. Gosh, it freaking turns me on. I know, call me crazy, but it’s my truth. 

 Anyways. That’s besides the point.

 Since the whole Suguru situation, Toji has been by my side. When we have sex, he would pull me into embrace, tighter than usual, and his body heat would transfer to me, providing a warmth I know I can only feel from him. 

 We started running errands together. Going to sleep at the same time, but sometimes, he would wait until I dozed off until he eventually did. It even got to the point where we took all our showers together. . . That also winded into sex. 

 My speculation is that the Suguru bullshit sparked an emotion I thought he could never feel. Hearing how he forced himself on me, attempting to take my body without my permission, not only angered him, but scared him. 

  It’s my job to protect you, and I didn’t, is what he told me after we made love a few weeks ago. 

 I hate that Toji felt that way because he did protect me. Despite our fluctuating marriage this past year, there was never a time I didn’t feel protected by Toji. However, I can’t help but feel solely responsible for this mess. 

 My relationship with Suguru should’ve never happened. I should’ve declined his sexual advances the night we met. And I should’ve ignored him when I saw him at the bakery. I’m not diminishing how Toji neglected me in our marriage, but nothing can justify me stepping out on him. 

 Not for temporary lust.

 This shit with Suguru has gotten way out of control. Him saying that he loves me, suggesting I should leave Toji for him. Admitting that he listened to me and Toji having sex while we were at Naoya’s party. Thinking I’m going to be crawling back to him once Toji  (if, which he won’t) fucks up again. 

 I’m not interested in this potential fatal attraction. 

 I just hope that’s the last time I see Suguru. 

 “Sweets, you in here?” Toji calls for me. 

 “Yeah, I am.” He comes behind to give me a sweet open mouthed kiss on my neck. “Everything’s okay?”

 “Yeah. The place was quiet for a while, so I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

 I turn to face him. “Just thinking.”

 “About?”

 “Nothing, baby. I’m okay.”

 Toji holds my chin between his fingers, firmly saying, “Y/N.”

 It’s like he sees right through me.

 I deeply sigh. “Just everything that happened a few weeks ago.”

 “That fucker been messing with you again?”

 “No, no,” I reassured him. “I haven’t heard from him since that night.”

 He hums. “You’ll be okay while I’m gone handling this contract?”

 “Yeah, the gun is here.”

 He looks at me with skepticism because I know the last thing he wants to do is leave me for three days, especially since he’ll be in another country. But I’m aware of Toji’s lifestyle. One of the first things he trusted me with. It took some time at first for me to accept, however, knowing the type of contracts he took made me weirdly comfortable. 

 “Okay,” still sounding hesitant, but rubs my cheek with his thumb. “I’m heading out now. Be back on Friday.”

 I balance on my toes, wrapping my arms around his neck to pull him into a kiss. “Be safe. . . I love you, Toji.”

 “I love you, too.”

Suguru

 Love can make you do crazy things. Well, I wouldn’t consider what I’m doing as crazy, per se. More so, passionate. Yeah, I’d like to think of myself as a passionate lover. I love hard, strong, and deeply. Others may consider my feelings as overbearing, but when being in love with a woman like Y/N, you have to be.

 She deserves to be desired. Sought at constantly. Fucked daily. Loved loudly. I possibly couldn’t deserve her because I’m not worthy enough, but she deserves to be someone like me. Not her shitty ass fucking husband. 

 I hate that piece of shit. He ruined me and Y/N’s moment a few weeks ago. We were doing perfectly fine until he showed up. Yeah, maybe she was being a bit stubborn, but a few kisses and words of reassurance would’ve helped. 

 How else am I supposed to win her back if I don’t stay persistent? Last thing I want is for Y/N to think I don’t care about her anymore. It’s shown by how I left the tag on her car the last time we had sex so I could make sure she’s safe. That’s what a lover is supposed to do. . . Protect.

 How can her husband do that shit if he’s gullible enough to take a last minute contract I forged? I’ve done my research on Toji Zen’in. I know he’s a money hungry bastard that would take anything given to him, which works in my favor.

 When I go see Y/N, I want to do so without any interruptions.

 I’ve been patient and waited for this moment for weeks. Following her around. Getting her new number after she gave it to the cashier to redeem her awards while running her errands, which by the way is very dangerous. I mean, there has to be another way of looking up an account without giving out your phone number? What if a creep heard as well and got her number? Tch, I can’t let that happen. 

 Note to self, Y/N loves that makeup store a lot. She’s been there twice since I last saw her.

 I’ll be sure to get her a gift from there.

 Anyways.

 Once Y/N and I talk things out, I can show her how much I care about her. How much I miss her. Showering her with affection and maybe cock if she wants it. I’ll never deny my pretty girl cock, especially when she looks so gorgeous while taking it.

 Speaking of, I miss that pussy so much. She was always so fucking messy and I loved that shit, knowing how wet and creamy I make her. 

 Two times wasn’t enough. Nearly wasn’t enough time for me to deeply study her body, explore it so I could figure out different ways to make her cum. See, this is the reason why I need get rid of that Zen’in fuck. Because when there’s other people standing  in the way of what you’re trying to build with the person you love, they make your vision blurry.

 That’s exactly what Toji Zen’in is. A blur.

 And he needs to fucking go.

 Permanently. 

 Maybe tonight would be the perfect time for me to go talk to Y/N. I coincidentally moved into an apartment building across from where she lives, so this makes things easier for us. It just further proves that fate is fighting to bring us together–for good. 

 After we talk and she realizes how much I love her, we could lay down together and watch a movie. Somehow, in the midst of the movie, I can fall between her legs and finally eat that sweet pussy I’ve be thinking about since I first fucked her. Or if she just wants to cuddle, we can do that, too.

 Whatever my angel wants.

 My main goal is to have Y/N understand how I feel about her. She said no romantic gestures, but I want the world to know how much she means to me. Maybe just a small and intimate date if anything.

 No, Suguru. That’ll make her mad.

 I know, I know. 

 Shit.

 I need to let out this frustration, and although I can’t make sweet love to Y/N right now, I suppose fisting my cock for the fifth time today wouldn’t be so bad.

 I think of how gorgeous and thick she is. It’s like every time I see Y/N, she gets more beautiful. I think of the leggings she wore a few days ago on her daily walk to the park that imprinted her ass, showing the natural waves she has every step she takes. And how her pussy looked so fucking fat, cuffing and sucking in the material of the tights, practically begging for me to fuck her.

 “Let me see if she’s in her bedroom,” I mutter to myself. 

 I still have the photos she sent me a few weeks ago, along with the ones I took while stalk–watching her, but physically seeing her is more preferred. Lucky enough, I was able to secure a corner apartment and the distance is far enough for her to not notice me, but close enough for me to see everything. 

 “Fuck.” I began palming my cock. 

 Y/N looks like she’s reading a book (I know how much she loves reading because she always goes to the bookstore) while wearing an oversized shirt and nothing underneath. Why does she wish to fuck tease me like this? Exposing her bottom cheeks so I can have the perfect view of her ass. 

 My cock is out less than a second later and it’s crimson, and as expected, already leaking precum. I spread it across my head and length to act as lubrication. 

 I know that I’m a bit perverted when it comes to Y/N. I know. But I can’t help myself when it comes to her. She’s so perfect. So beautiful and sexy. So mine. 

 So fucking mine. 

 Playing with my cock shouldn’t be an issue, no?

 I can take it, Suguru. I can take it.

 Fuck yes, princess. You can. You know how well you take my cock in that tight pussy. Just thinking about being deep inside of Y/N makes me feel like a fucking satyromaniac. 

 I’m practically ripping the skin off myself with how hard I’m pumping my cock. My head is thrown back in pure bliss, bottom lip tucked between my teeth to contain my moans. Oh, fuck, she’s being over right now to pick up something off the floor. That pussy is dying for my touch, I know it is. 

 “Y/N,” I whimper.

 Just a little bit more, I thought. The arousal that’s burning through my cock is soon shooting through my tip. If only if she coul–

 Who… the fuck … is calling me?

 I curse myself. I’m angry that my phone notifications have been going off while I’m trying to please myself. I can ignore it. I can, but I’m technically expecting a call from–

 “Suguru, it took you long enough,” my best friend, Satoru says, on the other side of the phone.

 “I’m busy, Satoru. I hope you called with information that I want,” I bit out.

 He chuckles, baiting me. “Still not over getting your assbeat by your girlfriend’s husband? Poor Suguru. I can come there and make you feel better. Maybe change your band-aids?”  

 Sometimes I ask myself why I tolerate him.

 “You called to fucking mock me or what?”

 “Hm, maybe,” he admits. “Also to tell you that he took the contract. You fucking owe me for bringing me into your mess, dude.”

 Just as I expected.

 “Thanks. Gotta go-”

  “Suguru, wait,” he says abruptly. “Are you sure you want to get deeper into this shit with Y/N? Her husband is a fucking professional killer. Is she really worth your life?”

 What kind of stupid question is that? Of course, she is. I love Y/N. Why can’t anyone fucking see that? That we belong together? The instant connection, our sexual attraction, how I look at her. She’s mine. If anyone gets in the way of our relationship, there’s no reason for them to live. 

 “I’ll be sure to book a session with my therapist if I need advice. Bye, Satoru.” 

 The nerve of him trying to lecture me about pursuing Y/N when he had his fair share of dealing with married women.

 Watch, I’ll show him. I’ll show Y/N. Hell, I’ll even show her jackass of a husband how she’s meant to be mine. . . Not his.

 Maybe there will be mishaps along the way, but love isn’t an easy thing. Fighting for who you love is inevitable.

 And good thing I have a lot of fight in me.

previous chapter | next chapter

[unhappy-day-in-hell]

The Dissection of Hazbin Hotel, Episode One: part 1

Hazbin Hotel is finally coming out and I want to talk about it!

Seems unreal, doesn’t it!? After four years it’s here, and it’s one of the biggest train wrecks I've ever seen with my own two eyes!

Like many people, I used to be a fan. I got into Hazbin at the end of 2021, and stayed with it until mid-2023, when I woke up to the series’ flaws and saw how horrible Vivziepop was as a person. But for that time, Hazbin gave me something to look forward to during a dark time in my life. I was excited for it. I liked the idea it would be a complex, dark, and nuanced look into some dark topics. I was convinced Angel’s trauma would be handled with care, because Addict handled it with care. I was convinced Hazbin would be a show that said “no one is beyond becoming a better person if they just make the decision to try, no matter how much bad they’ve done.” Being set in Hell, where the UNIVERSE ITSELF has given up on the souls damned there (the furthest extreme you can possibly get to), was a good way to exaggerate this conflict.  

Spoilers: It wasn’t that! Apparently it was never meant to be that in the first place!

Vivziepop threw out the original premise that everyone loved in favor of a Heaven war! She ripped off the “Rose Quartz = Pink Diamond” reveal with Rosie-Lilith-Eve. By extension, they de-clawed Alastor by making him Rosie’s pawn. (I loved Alastor. I wanted to see more of his deranged self; I wanted to see what he would do when he was proven wrong when redemption was possible.)

When I watched Episode One, I started writing my thoughts down. Then I tripped and wrote 13,000 words.

So I’m gonna post them here as a review! It’s long, so I’m going to break it into four parts.

I can be very forgiving of flawed projects, but in regards to Hazbin, I’m petty. No nitpick is too small. I will compare it to the pilot (because it’s in that Viv-canon-limbo where you need to have seen it but she pretends it’s not canon), and I’ll have tangents and rewrite ideas.

The story-crafting for this show is one of the more important elements to me, so I give a lot of attention to that.

And there will be SPOILERS, including all leaks! So just be careful if you don’t want spoilers or leaks! 

Let’s go!

Part 1: //

Part 2:

Part 3:

Part 4:

--Hazbin Hotel opens with a huge exposition dump about the supposed creation of Hell.

And IMMEDIATELY, we’ve run into a problem.

Sometimes, stories will open with lore dumps like this. They can be useful in giving the audience important knowledge, or setting the stage for the world. However, this lore dump provides us with neither of those things.

Even for people who aren’t religious (me), the story of Eden is really well known (even just the pop culture version of it.)  That means you don’t need to tell us the creation story at this moment-- What we NEED right now is to understand what this version of Hell is like.

What info do we need in order to understand the setting of Hell that Charlie lives in?

Important stuff like this: Hell functions like a big city with laws, and isn’t like the pop-culture fire and brimstone image we might have; dead sinners manifest with new bodies and are exclusively in the Pride Ring, which makes them the property of Lucifer, and they’re immortal unless killed by angels; angels come down once a year to erase them to keep them from becoming too numerous. Emphasize that it’s like a shitty country, with shitty jobs and leaders, Lucifer at the tippy-top. Emphasize the Sinners’ fear of the annual exterminations -- emphasize that Charlie feels helpless but wants to save them.

Your job as a storyteller is to tell us what we need to know, when we need to know it.

Right now, we don’t need to know why Hell was created – we need to know how Hell WORKS in the present. That’s your goal, to bring us into the world.

The only necessary information this narration gives us is that “exterminations exist." Everything else about the deeper lore can be shown to us later, after we’ve had some time to get to know the world.

(Have this be a fairytale Charlie tells during an emotional, quiet moment; or in a flashback, Lilith tells this to a baby Charlie. Or it can be a musical number Lilith or Lucifer sings for her, trying to make themselves look better than they actually were.)

--“Angels are beings made of pure light who worshipped good and shielded all from evil.” WE’RE FIVE SECONDS INTO THIS AND ALREADY WE HAVE A HUGE THING TO UNPACK. Buckle up.

So Hazbin's lore goes like this: the Angels already exist, and they worship a vague figure of “Good” (who isn’t God), and defend people from “Evil” (who isn’t the devil, because Lucifer hasn’t rebelled yet.) Since Lucifer hasn’t rebelled yet, evil really shouldn’t exist yet. Where is this evil coming from?

(I have a bad feeling it’s Roo -- the Root of Evil, that character Viv drew years ago and said is a looming presence in the distance. Is Roo some kind of “eldritch abomination”, who existed before the angels? Sadly, I think that’s very likely, at this point.)

Either way: Good and Evil are forces that already existed at the start of creation, before Adam and Eve and everything else, and Lucifer and the Fallen Angels had nothing to do with it. Which just doesn’t mesh, if you’re going to have a Christian base for the lore.

Also: It says the angels defend people from Evil. But who are the angels defending? They explicitly show that humanity hasn’t been created at this point, because we see the birth of Adam in a few moments; so who the heck needed defending during this period of time!?

…

Alright, to get this out of the way: Hazbin Hotel won’t use God as a character, apparently because they don’t want to offend anyone, or so I heard. It’s something to debate; was this a good idea on their part, or is it cowardice? For me, I personally feel like it’s the latter. The show has already taken many other incredibly sacred figures and stories, and jumbled them up and tweaked them for the show’s awful lore -- and Viv has never cared about offending anyone before so why would she care now -- which is why it feels spineless to me, for them to NOT go all the way and just use the Capital G himself. Plenty of other stories have used the Christian God as a character just fine.

If they’re worried about doing it tactfully, the solution is to just… NOT write God as an asshole? Maybe try for some genuine sincerity in the writing for once? Make him the single character in the cast who is never played for a joke, and whose personality has no stupid quirks. Have him be very distant, maybe even locked in Heaven’s Palace, that way you don’t have to show him more than a handful of times, but the audience will know he exists; and use his limited screentime to make him display wisdom and warmth.

Maybe he acts like a distant observer of the Universe, and he clearly knows something we don’t; he tut-tuts at the bad things, but “This, You See, is how it Must Be. And by the end of the show he’s right because everything works out for the good. Or... something.

My point is, they already used all this other sacred stuff from the bible, they might as well go all the way. (Viv certainly didn’t have a problem using Lilith or vodou symbols, did she?)

--Lucifer was a dreamer who was deemed dangerous to the order of Heaven. Then he fell in love with Lilith for her fierce independence and they wanted to share free will with humanity.

This story. This rewriting of the usual biblical tale to make Lucifer sympathetic.

It just doesn’t work.

It also ties back to their refusal to use God as a character. The character of God was an INTEGRAL piece of this mythological story, and God and Lucifer were inseparably intertwined figures in it. Lucifer’s entire rebellion and “Pride” sin was against God. You could say... Lucifer has major fucking "Daddy Issues." (That's a phrase Alastor will say later!) To take away his Daddy Issues is just so lame.

Even worse, this story is trying to paint Lucifer as a misunderstood artist who cared about creation. (He's so different from the actual mythological figure, it makes you wonder what the point of even using these figures as characters is.)

…There are two possibilities.

Possibility One: I wonder if this is a “sanitized” version of the story that Lucifer tells Charlie to make himself look better. (This feels very much like one of those “history lessons” that a fantasy world will introduce to the characters early on, only for that history lesson to be shown as a lie later on.) But if that’s the case, it’s WEIRD for Hazbin Hotel to do that with the story of the Garden of Eden?? Everyone/most everyone in the audience will already know the gist of how the Eden story goes, so they'll know this retelling isn’t right -- so what, are we expected to wait for Charlie to gormlessly stumble into the truth, ~as a twist~ that GASP D:> her father INTENTIONALLY fucked humanity over!?!?!? HE DID IT ON PURPOSE AND ALL THE SUFFERING OF HELL WAS HIS GOAL!?!?!? DAD HOW COULD YOU. That’ll be a shitty twist. The audience already knows this, so it’ll just be pounding our heads into the wall waiting for Charlie to get there.

(And also, it’s very suspicious they don’t actually SAY what Lucifer’s “ideas and dreams” were for creation. So that could be a lie by omission that he uses for his fairytale. In reality, he might have had awful, shitty, malicious ideas, which Heaven stopped him from doing, and Lucifer’s been a big baby about it ever since.)

Possibility two: This is legitimately the retelling of the Eden story in the Hazbin Universe. Which just suuuuuuucks! If Lucifer was a kind, caring individual, why would he let his Hell Kingdom become a total SHITHOLE of suffering? Wouldn’t he be a kind ruler? Wouldn’t he try to run the ship better?

And it’s a horrible decision to woobify him in general. You’re seriously going to de-claw THE DEVIL? You’re gonna rip out his teeth and make him soggy!? You’re gonna make the King Of Evil, The Father of All Lies, LUCIFER, EMBODIMENT OF PRIDE, a wet meow-meow sadboy who did nothing wrong?? COME ON!! What makes Lucifer an interesting character IS THAT HE MADE THE CHOICE to fuck everything up on purpose! He’s interesting BECAUSE of how he, to this day, wants to ruin the Earth to stick it to God! You can’t just take that away from him!

It’s incredible that these two possibilities are on opposite ends of the spectrum, but both are unsalvageable. There is NO winning with this backstory. They fucked up.

--Ah wait there it is. The apple is the same color as the Vague Evil’s eye from above.

Yep….

Man, making Eve the twist villain of the story (before or after Roo shows up? Is Roo inside of Eve controlling her? It doesn’t matter). You couldn’t write a worst twist.

I ask you: Why is it Eve, and not Adam who is the secret twist villain? Or, why isn’t it Adam+Eve TOGETHER who are the twist villains?

If this were the only instance of female characters being demonized, I wouldn’t think anything of it -- but there is a clear pattern across all of Viv’s writing. Viv is a known misogynist, and this feels like an extension of her misogyny. Of course the twist villain is female. Of course Roo The Secret Eldritch Abomination is female. The male characters get sympathy, or stuff handed to them. Lucifer is a good lad who did nothing wrong! Alastor isn’t evil, he was hired to protect the Hotel and is a father figure to Charlie! ADAM got to go to Heaven and Eve didn’t!

I have absolutely no doubt that the blame will be put on Eve, and Adam will be given a pass because Eve tricked him to eat the fruit of knowledge, or something.

--Yep, this thing is animated like a Root. It’s totally Roo.

--Eyes… just like Roo’s root tongue. Yep.

--Heaven only allowed Lucifer to see the bad of humanity, never the good.

They really ARE trying to woobify him, aren’t they? At this point, the only way they could salvage any of this is by making this a sanitized bedtime story (which again wouldn’t work in itself.)

This is the fucking DEVIL we’re talking about.

He is the King of Hell, and therefore, he is the ruler of the Princes of Sin, the Ars Goetia, and the legions of Hell that are trying to corrupt the Earth! We see in Helluva Boss that demons do actually go to make Earth worse. If Lucifer is King and didn’t want this to happen, he has the power to stop at.

Plus: there are portals to go to Earth, and magic to watch the Earth as seen on Helluva Boss. So Lucifer has every means to look at the Earth any way he wants, and could see the good the Earth has to offer…… and it's because he’s the one bringing evil to the Earth in the first place in order to destroy good (technically to fight against God, but God ain't here, so "Good" it is.) That’s still Hell’s MO in this world. We’ve seen this on Helluva Boss, which is canon to this universe. And you cannot convince me that the King of Hell was “oblivious to it” or "the other royal demons have their own power and Lucy can't stop them" or some excuse like that, as if the Princes of Sin and the Ars Goetia are doing it secretly under Lucifer’s nose and Lucifer doesn’t know it’s going on. You cannot convince me of this.

Plus even then -- if Lucifer were still a sadboy who WANTS to see the good of the Earth (even if all he sees is the bad), that means… in theory, he has a “good heart”. So why isn’t he a kinder King?

Because this is either a fake fairytale or Viv is a bad writer who doesn’t think anything through. (It’s both.)

--Lucifer lost his spark, huh? What does that actually mean? Does it mean his title as King is only symbolic and he doesn’t do any ruling? (This can’t be right – we see later in the episode Lucifer still has some authority over various things, like meeting with Adam but foisting that responsibility on Charlie.) Does losing his spark just mean he gave up trying to be good, and now just revels in evil?

And, as the embodiment of Pride, shouldn’t Lucifer of all people be the most stubborn, unshakable person in existence? Instead of losing his SPARK, he should just grow jaded and bitter but still have that fire to prove he's better than everyone. He’s the King of Hell for a reason.

(And if Lilith thrives, why isn’t she the ruling Queen of Hell?)

--So Lilith uses her powers to Empower Demons…

This wording is VERY suspicious, and once again, feels like a sanitized bedtime story for Charlie.

What does empowering demons actually MEAN? Huh? It sounds very good in this fairytale, but look at the evidence presented to us. We see what Hell is like (...eventually.) It’s a shithole where everyone is suffering and constantly beating and killing each other. For all we know, her “empowering demons” actually means she encourages everyone’s worst behavior, gives sinners powers and weapons that they can use against each other, and is the reason why Hell is so awful.

…Oh god, if LILITH is the cause of Hell being bad, and Lucifer is a Good Boy who sits back and doesn’t do anything, then it’s another female character being written to fuck everything up!

(We don’t know when Eve takes Lilith’s spot, but I don’t think it’s quite at this point in history. So Eve doesn’t get the blame here just yet. Hopefully?)  

--Overpopulation was always a bad motivation for Hazbin Hotel. I thought that even when I was a fan. Because: if Hell is a finite space where you can run out of room… then so is Heaven? If you start redeeming sinners for the sake of giving Hell more room… theeeeeen eventually HEAVEN is going to get overpopulated and run out of room. What then?

Hell also has other Rings the sinners are not allowed to go to. Are we going to mention the other Rings’ existence at any point? Will the idea of opening the other Rings up to sinners even be presented as an option at any point?

How much of Hazbin’s lore is going to be locked in Helluva Boss, unable to be shown in the series proper? Will the Princes of Sins, the Hellborn demons, the Ars Goetia ever make an appearance, or are they not allowed to? Will Charlie ever have to deal with the fact there is an entire slave caste in Hell, the Hellhounds? Is she going to free the Hellhounds? Imps are also oppressed, will the show ever explicitly TALK about that? Will the worldbuilding show us how imps, hellhounds, and Sinners intermingle in Pentagram City?

CAN HELLBORN DEMONS BE REDEEMED AND GO TO HEAVEN?

So many questions. And knowing Viv’s style, I highly doubt we’ll ever get any answers.

--So Charlie inherited her mother’s dream. But they completely neglected to mention what Lilith’s dream actually was. Do they mean she wants Charlie to “empowering sinners,” in general? Or did Lilith, specifically, want the exterminations to end?

They use such vague words, when this is one moment they should just give us a clear answer. This whole backstory was a mistake and a waste of time, but if you are going to use it to set up Charlie inheriting something from Lilith, you have to make it clear what she’s inheriting.

And also, while it’s not ENTIRELY a Chosen One scenario, in the pilot we got the sense that Charlie was the one who made the choice to try and help sinners, on her own. Now though, Charlie was GIVEN this dream by someone else, because she can’t have agency. It would be one thing if Lilith just taught Charlie to feel compassion (that would be fine, parents teach their kids morals all the time), but Charlie still came to the redemption conclusion on her own – it’s another for her to be said to have “inherited this from Lilith” or is carrying on Lilith’s legacy.

.................

With the opening monologue over, the only thing we know is that the lore is very messy. It has a Christian basis, but it's been fucked up so badly that it makes you wonder what the point even is.

Good and Evil are living eldritch forces that existed before creation and have nothing to do with God, Lucifer, or anything else like that.

There is no God, (who is the ENTIRE CENTRAL POINT for the biblical-inspired stuff in Hazbin); instead a whole Council of Elder Angels rules the universe.

Roo has no basis in anything.

I think in some tellings, Lucifer was the first Angel? Even if not, he was one of the highest. So Lucifer should be one of the ruling angels. They have to severely weaken him as a figure in order to make him under the control of the other angels. (After all, in Christian mythology, it's God who made Lucifer fall. Another way his absence fucks the story.)

And my final takeaway from combing over this lore is: why didn't Viv just make her own fantasy world? Everything in this show is only passingly similar to the stuff it's based on. If you're gonna take these aspects from religions and fuck with them so much, just make your own fantasy world where you can do whatever you want.

That was only the opening monologue. This is gonna be a long ride guys!

[allthebrazilianpolitics]

hi! could you possibly share the intercept new report about gay men and their misogyny? i know this isn't really about br politics, and im not even sure if it is in English, but i think it is really important to be shared

I hope it's not too late 😅

-

Gay men and misogyny: no more ignoring this problem

'Don't talk about vaginas around me': for a long time, we ignored the disqualifications of women and the feminine made by gay men. No more.

"If I liked women, I would have become a gynecologist."

"The law of gravity is a crime against women."

“Funny” gay guys, usually white and showing a certain hatred towards females, are a very common social type in contemporary pop culture. The character Felix “Bicha Má” ["Evil Fag"], played by Mateus Solano, from the Brazilian soap opera “Amor à Vida” [Love For Life], is an easy example in Brazilian lands – the sentences that open this text are his. But this sharp-tongued young man who directs much of his bitterness towards women, including friends and relatives, has never only lived on screens: he is a common presence in our daily lives.

"Oh, don't mention a vagina around me, I get all messed up."

"My goodness, this singer was beautiful, but she got old and ugly."

"Get out of here, I don't even like cracks."

I can't say how many times I've heard phrases like that from fellow gay men. For a long time, these ways of disqualifying women – despite the certain discomfort felt by every person who is repeatedly the target of prejudice – were endorsed and reflected by women ourselves. Offenses dressed as “I was just joking” have largely naturalized these forms of disqualification, but the good news is that, in an environment in which feminism has gained ground, what seemed to be just a joke is now named by the right word: misogyny.

This is a delicate subject, since we are talking about people – mostly cisgender gay men – who have been and still are victims of a series of violence, whether at home, at work, on the streets. Perhaps it was precisely this that made us, cisgender or transgender women, leave the discomfort of being made fun of in the background. After all, confronting homophobia in a sexist country like Brazil is no simple task. But if this machismo affects homosexual men, what can we say about its presence in women's daily lives? And what can we also say about the homophobia directed at cis/trans homosexual and bisexual women, especially invisible and also targets of “jokes” by gay men?

“I had a very close gay friend, like a brother. We went out to parties together and often slept in the same bed, at my house or his. Several times, as if he were joking, he said that he was terrified of vaginas, that he was born through a cesarean section so he wouldn't have to go through one. He'd gesture the sign of the Cross and said ‘God forbid’, smiling,” says Adriana Conceição, 47 years old, a telemarketing operator from Recife who, like several other women, took a while to classify the guy's actions with the right word.

Game developer Renata Gomes, also 47 years old, found herself at the center of a virtual outrage after questioning a post by a gay Brazilian film critic living in the United States. In the post, he talked about missing Brazil, since people worked a lot more in the USA. Faced with the possibility of his speech being reductive and stereotypical, he began to treat Renata as “ugly”, “militant”, “frustrated”. Furthermore, several of the critic's friends entered the comments to reiterate the delegitimization of Renata's speech.

Younger people also identify the problem: aware of the issue, Curitiba university student Nicoly Grevetti, aged 24, listened to several people who circulate in LGBTQIA+ spaces about the subject and wrote a text about it. In it, she also identifies how pop and queer cultures, supposedly safer and “modern”, also present misogynistic elements.

One example is the use of the term “fishy”, constantly evoked to define drag queens who closely resemble cisgender women (that is, who have a high degree of “passability”). The expression refers to the smell that these women's vaginas supposedly have. “[Cisgender] women grow up believing that their private parts are disgusting and spend their entire lives using products to reduce their natural odors, which can lead to various diseases. Having female genitalia as something disgusting is so common for this group, that you can find countless reports of women talking about it on the internet,” she wrote. The topic was the subject of discussion in the famous series RuPaul’s Drag Race, generating academic works like this one. Cisgender drag queen Victoria Scone, a former participant in the show, also spoke on the topic.

A few months ago, I experienced a significant episode of this machismo and misogyny that had been attenuated for a long time in relation to gay men. I was in a doctor's office very close to a shopping center in the south of Recife. After the end of the consultation, the dermatologist – homosexual, white, in his late thirties, and anti-Bolsonaro in the last elections – lightly tapped my hand and said: “Okay, now you can go for a walk in the mall.”

Especially on that day, I was rushing to finish presenting a lecture that I would give the following day, online, at the University of Coimbra. Obviously, if I wanted to window shop or spend the afternoon reading celebrity magazines, it wouldn't be a problem (in fact, I love it). The point here was the doctor's obvious intention to fit me into the cliché of the futile and consumerist woman, a sexist and anachronistic way of disqualifying the female gender. Icing on the cake: while I was leaving, the gay boy warned me not to forget to take “the boss” to my next appointment. He was referring to my romantic partner.

If it's feminine, it's smaller

The misogyny present in the practices of part of this population is so evident that it goes beyond the boundaries of gender and occurs between equals: it is common to see it operating even among gay men themselves. Research I carried out in partnership with Professor Ricardo Sabóia, from the Federal University of Pernambuco, analyzed the relationship between body and celebrity on the Grindr app. I was astonished by both the hatred towards what is socially seen as feminine and the extremely high level of normativity, standardization, and even elitism. “'I'm not into effeminate guys” is a constant, as is “I'm not into fat guys”.

In this environment of extremely high value for toned biceps and abs, being masculine – and looking very masculine – is the strongest currency. Thus, men seen as “little women” are disqualified. This is what researcher Carlos Alberto de Carvalho calls “misogynistic heteronormativity”, in which the masculine and masculinities are placed as positive – on the other hand, femininities and the feminine are valued negatively. It is, therefore, an environment of hegemonic masculinity and subaltern masculinities.

The global soap opera “Terra e Paixão” [Land & Passion] currently features an illustration that refers to this scenario, with the character Kelvin (actor Diego Martins), an “effeminate” gay man in love with Ramiro (Amaury Lorenzo), the masculine man, self-declared heterosexual, who desires the other person, but still doesn't know how to deal with the situation. What diminishes the power of the first is precisely its proximity to what is considered “womanly”. But, looking at Grindr, even the desirable “brucutu” [Brazilian slang for a brute and rude man] has his limits: issues such as level of education have weight in the app used mostly by gay and bisexual men, where it is common to read “no illiterates”.

The LGBTQIA+ culture, in which rich and middle-class white homosexual men repeatedly appear to discriminate against other peers from the same community, is a central sociological issue for discussing social inequalities not only in Brazil, but throughout the world. “Queer cultural production has helped to reproduce class distinctions based on the hegemony of representations of middle-class gays”, writes Lisa Henderson in the article “I’m not/I'm not into: circulating meanings in the presentation speeches of the Grindr app”, by Rafael Grohmann. In the same text, Juan Marsiaj summarizes: “Such a strategy can lead to the acceptance of a type of gay (white, middle class), seen as a model of citizen-consumer, and a greater marginalization of all other 'debauches' who do not fit this way. In more Brazilian terms: there is a risk of accepting rich gays and further marginalizing poor queers.”

Discrimination on the part of this part of the queer community was evidenced in a historic episode in the 1970s, in super liberal New York. In June 1973, the Christopher Street Liberation Day Rally took place in the city, a demonstration held in favor of the rights of the queer population – which, at that time, as we will see, in fact was basically limited to white, middle-class gay women and men.

But, among the public, was the activist Sylvia Rivera, a transvestite who in 1971 had created the Revolutionary Action of Street Transvestites, STAR. Rivera had been trying to get on stage for some time, but Jean O’Leary, a lesbian white radical feminist, acted to prevent her from participating. A sample of how, many times, cisgender homosexual/bisexual women also enact the same discrimination as homosexual/bisexual men.

When he finally managed to grab the microphone, Rivera took aim at the hundreds of mostly white gay men and women present. Her speech is a synthesis of the violence experienced by queers who are too effeminate, too poor, too black, or too latine.

“I've tried to speak out here all day for your gay brothers and sisters in jail. They write to me every damn week asking for help – and you don't do a damn thing for them. I lost my job and my apartment for gay liberation… and you guys treat me this way?” she screamed.

The anger had yet another weight and meaning: alongside another important name, the transvestite Marsha P. Johnson, Rivera went down in history as one of the first to face police repression at the New York bar Stonewall Inn, on June 28, 1969. The conflict was the trigger for a fundamental civil movement for human rights – so much so that the date ended up becoming what was then called International LGBT+ Pride Day.

The question remained: how could that engaged audience repudiate the person who, at just 18 years old, spoke out against violence that was not directed just at her? How could they recriminate someone who pulled the trigger that would benefit precisely that white homosexual population?

Rivera and Johnson, who lived in a shelter, were profoundly different from the majority of the public who would return to their comfortable homes after the demonstration. Unlike Rivera, the daughter of a Venezuelan mother and a Puerto Rican father, most had not spent nights in jail or suffered police rape. The activist died homeless, alone, without the care she should have received. Marsha P. Johnson, the decorated, made-up, smiling, super queer transvestite, was murdered and her body thrown into a river.

Thinking historically and humanly about both is a central issue in the debate on hatred of “feminine” and other diverse discriminations present among the LGBTQIA+ population. The right-wing has long opened a war against women, and the rise of red pill assholes is just one of the phenomena of this reality. It still includes names like former federal deputy Daniel Silveira, who broke the plaque with Marielle's name alongside Rodrigo Amorim. [Note from the translator: Marielle Franco was a black bisexual favela-born leftist councilwoman who was assassinated by militias.]

But, as it turns out, misogyny is not exclusive to right-wing radicals and conservatives. And if Sylvia and Marsha were on the front line to guarantee the rights of millions of people, without distinction of creeds, race, genders, and degrees of “femininity”, it is worth asking: when will cisgender gay men, mostly white and middle class, join, with emphasis and strength, debates such as the right to abortion, employment, and wages, issues of life and death for the majority of black Brazilian women? When will the majority of this same group take a stand on the thousands of rapes that mainly victimize girls and teenagers? What collectivities, after all, are we talking about? As Jorge Ben would say in the song Zumbi: I want to see. We're here.

Source, translated by the blogger.

[doppel-dean-er]

STRAP IN JEFFANNIE LOVERS, IT'S ABOUT TO GET YUCKY AND YOU'RE IN THE SPLASHZONE

thought I'd give a comprehensive list on why I personally dislike JeffAnnie because I got called idiotic for it and I see that as a top tier compliment. I go more in depth at the end, but if you just want the quick stuff (since I know y'all like the quotes!!) here you go, but please read the rest of it!! this is an open discussion.

also I get pretty gross in my descriptions of Annie, be warned

season 2 episode 1: "since you have clearly failed to grasp the central insipid metaphor of those twilight books you devour, let me explain it to you. men are monsters who crave young flesh, the end."

season 3 episode 1: "we can't keep doing this forever, kiddo." "Can't we?" "no, that's gross. I feel gross."

season 4 episode 3: "I was just daydreaming. I mean, I've married you at least a half a dozen times. and Troy. and Zac Efron. Mostly Zac Efron."

season 3 episode 16: "but, we love Jeff." "no, we don't. we're just in love with the idea of being loved. and if we can teach a guy like Jeff to do it, we'll never be unloved. so we keep running the same scenario over and over hoping for a different result."

season 6 episode 13: "are you okay?" "is this really what you want?" "of course. I mean, I'd be fine with a dog too, but whatever you want." "do you have any idea what I want?" "yes?"

season 2 episode 20: "the general atmosphere of 'would they?' 'might they?'" "Annie, I think you're reading into some things." "oh really?" "oh, give me a break. I mean, you could do the same thing with Pierce and Abed!" "yeah, let's be honest, there's more between you and Annie than between me and Pierce." "Abed, it's called chemistry, I have it with everybody."

season 5 episode 11: "I'm 40."

I'd like to actually argue with a personal opinion based on a fact, and some anecdotal hypotheticals

first of all, I'm 17, a year younger than Annie in season one. I know people who are 19, 20 even. the concept of them or myself dating someone who is (not only fully developed in the brain, but) at least ten years older than ourselves-

-is gross, no? if Annie got held back at all, if she didn't drop out, if she and Jeff met in a different way, same age difference and her still in high school, one might say that is a little uncouth, one might even go so far as to say it's gross.

but, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt; make them closer in age, say Jeff is in his 20s instead of his thirties, say 25 (the lowest we can go for him to still be a lawyer). still, Annie's brain wont fully develop until she is 25, meaning Jeff will already be in his thirties by that point, if he dates her any sooner he will be dating what is medically considered an adolescent (10-24) while himself above 30. "but chrissy, chimbo, my love, you're legally an adult at age 18!" if we start bringing the law into this, the post will double in size, to make it simple, just think for a moment why that makes you legally an adult. why is a legal adult not allowed to drink? why would the United States want people who are not fully developed making decisions, and how does that affect their country? food for thought.

another benefit of the doubt! take age out of the question, just look at them as people and their experiences, not by a number! age ain't nothing number, right? like Aaliyah, right? Yeah, did you know R Kelly, the convicted sex offender, wrote that song? Crazy, right? sorry, off topic. Silly me, silly little baby brain. haha. let's look at their dynamic:

Jeff is a man who values the women he dates - rather, sleeps with - very little. "I'm Jeff Winger, and I would rather look at myself naked than the women I sleep with!" he states, so confident and proud of himself. "I asked this woman out 30 seconds ago to prove a point!" he shouts. "I'll be back with booty!" he sneers. does this seem like the kind of person that would think of women in the long-term? that is Jeff.

Annie on the other hand, as the boy-crazy girlish urchin she is, sees every man that comes her way as Christ incarnate. Annie is obsessive, she enrolled in nearly all of Troy's classes to get some sense that someone, anyone, no matter how bad they treat her, has to rely on her for something she knows. Annie is fresh and inexperienced, she can't say the word 'penis' because it makes her uncomfortable and squirmy. pure, untouched porcelain. so impressionable, don't you think? so untainted, virginal. looking for a father.

describing her like that makes you a bit uncomfortable, doesn't it? feels a little yucky in your tum tum?

that's because if you take away their ages, their experiences speak for themselves. Annie is young, obsessive. Jeff has more experience than her and will discard her quickly in favor of someone younger or better looking. if you're into the 'born sexy yesterday' trope, go ahead. I'm not one to stop you from doing what makes you feel good! We all know what you really want, you don't have to hide it, Humbert- sorry, Jeff. slip of the tongue. scream it loud! scream it on the rooftops, or on the streets: "I want to fuck a teenager!!" see how people look at you!

Oh, they're not smiling, are they? yikes.

i'd just like to leave you with a personal opinion.

is the pairing of Jeff and Annie iffy and pretty gross? yes, scroll up, read this post again if you aren't convinced. at the same time, should it be removed from the show entirely because it's problematic and horrible and everyone who supports JeffAnnie is a meth-addicted pedophile who eats babies and fucks sticky flashlights with the mouthless faces of their classmates taped to the rim? while I would prefer that JeffAnnie didn't happen, yes, I just think those of you who are into this are just uneducated and stubborn. some of you, one of you in particular, i'm sure is a sweaty neckbeard with a fedora and a 4chan tripcode. but not all of you, and for that I have hope.

JeffAnnie is legal, yes. JeffAnnie is by far not the worst, too. and we, as mature half-adults, can admit that. I for one believe that you should be able to ship anything that is both legal and non-blood-related. that's the magic of fandom! enemies to lovers is one of the most popular genres! the toxicity of the relationship is not the problem, it is the predatory nature and unsavory implications that are the problem. I think the relationship as a whole is not something to be looked at with positive emotions, but I also don't believe that this type of screen representation is bad. just because something is put to screen does not mean it is acceptable. I think that's something we all learned in second grade, yes? good. glad we're all on the same page. you're looking wonderful. I hope you have a great day.

also, just to cover all my bases, it's just a matter of preference. it makes a lot of us uncomfortable to see relationships like that, especially those of us who are around Annie's age. like, imagine being her: you're fresh out of rehab and ready to start your life. this guy who is more than ten years older than you, who you think is kind of cute maybe, starts to look at you the same way. imagine having the knowledge that every time he looks at a woman he just sees a pair of tits and a vag on legs. imagine what he sees when he looks at you. imagine that guy having a conversation with your dad, they might even be closer in age than you and him. that's uncomfortable, to me at least.

plus, Britta and Jeff are a better couple.

and if anyone responds with that whole "Dan Harmon DVD season 6" copy paste I hope you all know it makes me kick my feet and giggle. papa needs an ego boost, go ahead *bats eyes* *gets hit by a car*

[thestraggletag]

this is @rumbelle-scream! i've been in love with rumbelle since sept. 2023, and i missed getting The Thing when i first started!!!

as a rumbeller 🫡 may i please ask for The Thing? 🥹

One The Thing coming right up!

WELCOME TO RUMBELLE, YOU SWEET SUMMER CHILD. I SEE YOU THERE, SO YOUNG, SO FRESH, SO WOOBIE. LET ME SLOWLY CLASP YOU TO MY BOSOM IN A MOTHERLY WAY.

NOW YOU STUMBLE AROUND, A LITTLE LOST RUMBELLE CHICK NEEDING LOVE AND GUIDANCE, TREMBLING WITH THE FORCE OF A THOUSAND BOTTLED-UP FEELS. NEVER FEAR, FOR WE’LL TAKE YOU IN, SINCE YOU HAVE BECOME

ONE OF US.

WE HAVE TEA, FOR YOUR SHATTERED FEELS. WE KNOW IT HURTS, WE’VE ALL BEEN THERE. MOST OF USE JUST DUMP A LOT OF VODKA INTO THAT TEA. IT’D BE EASIER TO JUST DUMP A TEA BAG INTO A BOTTLE OF SMIRNOFF, TO BE HONEST.

HERE, DEARIE, ARE SOME GIFS I BRING FORTH TO YOU SO YOU CAN BLOG ABOUT YOUR FEELS, AND HOW RUMBELLE RUINED YOUR LIFE AND YOU LOVE IT. TAKE THEM, DON’T BE SHY. YOU WILL NEED THEM, YOUNG PADAWAN. THEY WILL BECOME YOUR NEW LANGUAGE. BE WARNED, LITTLE ONE, FOR THEY ARE OF A SPOILERY NATURE THAT MIGHT HURT YOUR WEE EYES. THEY’RE ALSO AWESOME, SO YOU SHOULDN’T STARE AT THEM DIRECTLY.

LIKE AN ECLIPSE.

OR RUMPLE’S LEATHER PANTS.

AND SINCE THIS IS A PRETTY COMPLEX FANDOM I DIRECT YOU TO A WELCOME PAGE SO YOU CAN GATHER YOUR BEARINGS AND EXPLORE MORE OF THIS MAGICAL LAND OF CHIPPED CUPS AND SEXY SCALY MEN. IF YOU HAVE QUESTIONS THERE YOU’LL FIND ANSWERS. IF NOT YOU CAN ALWAYS SEEK THERUMBELLE TAG, AND POST QUESTIONS THERE. RUMBELLERS ARE ALWAYS THERE TO ANSWER.

ALWAYS. RUMBELLERS DON’T SLEEP.

IF YOU FEEL THE NEED FOR SOME LOVELY VISUAL REPRESENTATIONS OF THE UTTER PERFECTION THAT IS THIS SHIP I DIRECT YOU TO THE RUMBELLE ARTTAG, WHERE MANY TALENTED PEOPLE POST TALENTED THINGS THAT PRODUCE BOTH AWE AND ENVY.

AND LAST, AND THIS IS WHAT I’M KNOWN FOR…

WE.

HAVE.

PORN.

NO, NOT LIKE OTHER FANDOMS. NOT SOME PORN. NOT ANY PORN. WE HAVEALL THE PORN.

ALL OF IT.

EVERY KINK.

EVERY FANTASY.

EVERY POSITION.

FOOD SEX, PEGGING, BONDAGE, S&M (BUT THE REAL TYPE, NO INNER GODDESSES, ALL KINKY FUCKERY), CANE PORN, PRIEST PORN, CANNIBAL PORN, SHADOW!SEX, DADDY!DOM, DOM/SUB, BLOODPLAY, MIRROR-SEX, PREGNANCY KINKS, POWER-SEX, INTERSPECIES SEX, LACTATION PORN, DAGGER!PORN, RAPTOR!PORN, MAGICAL SEX AND MANY MORE.

WE GOT THE SORT OF STORIES WHERE THE DARING SWORD FIGHTS, MAGIC SPELLS AND PRINCES IN DISGUISE ARE EASIER TO BELIEVE IN THAN WHATEVER TANTRIC, MARATHONIC SEX-A-TON RUMPLE AND BELLE ENGAGE IN DAILY IN FIC, WHICH DEFIES THE ENDURANCE OF THE HUMAN BODY AND THE LAWS OF PHYSICS.

I DIRECT YOU NOW TO MY FANFIC REC LIST, WHERE YOU SHALL FIND MANY TREASURES. I ALSO GIVE YOU A REC LIST OF REC LISTS (A LIST-CEPTION, SO TO SPEAK). YOU CAN ALWAYS GO TO THE RUMBELLE FICTAG IF YOU FEEL YOU NEED MORE RUMBELLE PORN FICS IN YOUR LIFE. AND YOU WILL. AND IF YOU WANNA HIT THE MOTHERLOAD OF RUMBELLE FANFICTION CHECK OUT THE RUMBELLE LIBRARY, RIPE WITH DECADENT FICS FOR YOUR PERUSAL.

IN THIS FANDOM WE LIKE TO CELEBRATE WITH FIC, COPE WITH FIC AND START MASSIVE FIC WARS SO THERE ARE SEVERAL YEAR-ROUND EVENTS DESTINED TO BRING FORTH MORE RUMBELLE SEXYTIMES  MOMENTS: THE RUMBELLE SECRET SANTA (ORGANIZED THREE YEARS IN A ROW AND TOTALLING AROUND 350 FICS), FLOOFAPALOOZA (FOR WHEN YOU NEED TO GO ‘AWWW’ DESPERATELY), 50 FIRST HAMBURGER DATES (YES, WE GOT IT BAD), THERUMBELLE CHRISTMAS IN JULY (FOR THOSE LONG HIATUS MONTHS), THEMANTIS DAY MENAGERIE(BECAUSE OUR SMUT NEEDS MORE CREATURES IN IT), THE GREAT RUMBELLE BLOWOFF AND THE RUMBELLE SHOWDOWN. IT ALL CULMINATES WITH THE T.E.A. AWARDS, WHERE WE MOSTLY CONGRATULATE THE WRITERS ON ALL THE SEX, FLUFF AND TEARS (GREAT PLACE FOR NEWBIES TO ALSO SEEK FIC RECS!).

MIND THE SPOILERS, DEARIE.

BUT IF YOU’RE ALL CAUGHT UP YOU SHOULD TOTALLY CHECK THIS TUMBLR WHICH WILL HOLD PRECIOUS TREASURES SO YOU CAN SURVIVE THE SUMMER HIATUS WITH MOST OF YOUR SANITY INTACT.

WE AIM FOR REALISTIC GOALS HERE.

IF YOU HAVEN’T YET DELETED YOUR TUMBLR ACCOUNT AND MOVED TO A COUNTRY WITHOUT INTERNET CONNECTION THEN CONGRATULATIONS, YOU INDEED HAVE THE MAKINGS OF A GREAT RUMBELLER. AND YOU’RE GONNA LOVE IT HERE.

NOW LET ME HOLD YOU GENTLY, SOFTLY, LOVINGLY.

Welcome to the fandom, dearie