#i have learned how to make them see me as someone they can turn to when needing help or guidance or simply as someone fun

[lizziesangel]

can you do another one shot of introverted reader and extroverted qb Rafe and he just follows her around and still crushes on her and then he like asks her out or something you can make this in your own way

finally part two!! ⟢ part one

as the self-defense unit wraps up, you and lana grab your things and head toward the locker rooms. the air between you is lighter now, the drills and awkward encounters behind you—for the moment, at least. lana nudges you with her shoulder, her mischievous grin already in place.

“did you see what happened to jason in the middle of class?” she asks, barely containing her laughter. “i mean, secondhand embarrassment doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

you stifle a laugh, glancing over at her. “what did he think was going to happen? asking mia out in the middle of the drills? who even does that?”

lana throws her hands up dramatically. “exactly! like, dude, we’re learning how to escape a chokehold, and he’s over here trying to escape the friend zone. bad timing, jason. bad. timing.”

you snort, unable to hold back your amusement. “and then mia’s face? she looked like she wanted the ground to swallow her whole.”

“she didn’t even say anything! she just shook her head and walked away!” lana cackles, practically doubling over as she recalls the moment. “poor guy stood there for a solid ten seconds, looking like he’d just been hit by a bus.”

“it was funny,” you admit, “but also kind of sad. like, imagine building up all that courage just to get publicly rejected.”

lana shakes her head, still giggling. “i mean, yeah, i felt bad for him. for, like, half a second. but you have to admit, it was iconic. mia didn’t even blink.”

you laugh, the image replaying in your mind, but then lana’s smirk takes on a different edge. she gives you a sly look, and you immediately know you’re in trouble.

“speaking of moments,” she begins, dragging out the words, “what’s going on with you and rafe cameron?”

your laughter dies in your throat, replaced by a groan. “oh my gosh, lana. nothing is going on.”

“nothing?” she echoes, raising an eyebrow. “girl, he was staring at you like you were the answer to all of life’s questions. and don’t even try to deny it—i saw it.”

you roll your eyes, trying to play it cool. “he wasn’t staring. he was just… focused on the drill.”

“focused on you,” she corrects, wagging a finger at you. “i mean, i can’t blame him. you two looked like the cover of some YA romance novel over there, all wrist grabs and lingering eye contact.”

“lana, oh my gosh, stop.” you shove her lightly, your face burning. “it’s not like that.”

“oh, but you wish it was?” she teases, wiggling her eyebrows.

“no!” you insist, laughing despite yourself. “you’re so annoying.”

lana grins triumphantly, but before she can press further, you narrow your eyes and shift the spotlight. “okay, let’s talk about you and topper, then.”

her smug expression falters. “what about me and topper?” she asks, feigning innocence.

you mimic her earlier teasing tone. “oh, nothing. just that you were blushing a lot while you two were partnered up. and don’t even try to deny it—i saw it.”

“i was not blushing,” she huffs, but her face betrays her, turning pink at the accusation.

“you so were!” you shoot back, laughing. “and don’t think i didn’t notice how he kept leaning in to talk to you, all ‘are you okay? is my grip too tight?’”

“okay, first of all, he was just being polite,” lana retorts, crossing her arms. “second of all, you’re deflecting.”

“am i, though?” you challenge, raising an eyebrow. “because it sounds to me like someone has a little crush.”

lana groans, throwing her head back dramatically. “fine! whatever! he’s cute, okay? but he’s also topper thornton, which means he’s probably, like, ninety percent annoying and ten percent tolerable.”

you smirk. “sounds like someone’s trying to justify their feelings.”

“and it sounds like someone’s avoiding the fact that rafe cameron was basically undressing them with his eyes,” she fires back.

the two of you dissolve into laughter, your playful banter echoing down the hallway. for all the awkwardness of the class, you can’t help but feel grateful for moments like this—light, ridiculous, and completely you.

it’s been a week since the self-defense class, but you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about rafe cameron since then. not that you’d admit it to lana.

she’d never let you hear the end of it. right now, though, you’re trying to focus on your spanish class, scribbling notes as señor martinez drones on about verb conjugations. lana is sitting to your left, doodling absentmindedly in her notebook, while rafe is on your right, leaning back in his chair with a bored expression that says he’d rather be anywhere else.

you try not to notice how close he’s sitting. or how his cologne lingers faintly in the air. definitely not noticing.

“señor cameron,” señor martinez suddenly says, breaking through the hum of your thoughts. you glance up to see the older man staring pointedly at rafe, his thick-rimmed glasses slipping down his nose. “por favor, conteste esta pregunta. ¿cómo se dice, ‘i like to play football’ en español?”

rafe blinks, his posture straightening slightly. you can tell from the way his brow furrows that he has no idea what the answer is. he shifts in his seat, his gaze darting toward you briefly before landing back on the teacher.

“uh…” he starts, clearly stalling. “yo… gusta… uh…”

you glance at him out of the corner of your eye, trying not to laugh at his obvious struggle. he looks genuinely panicked now, scratching the back of his neck like it’ll somehow help him come up with the right words.

without thinking, you lean slightly toward him and scribble on the edge of your notebook: me gusta jugar al fútbol.

sliding the notebook closer to him with your left hand, you tap the words lightly with your pen before sitting back, acting like nothing happened. rafe’s eyes dart to the paper, and then to you. he catches on quickly, his lips twitching into a small, grateful smile.

“me gusta jugar al fútbol,” he repeats, his pronunciation a little off but passable. he looks up at señor martinez, who nods approvingly.

“muy bien, señor cameron,” the teacher says before moving on to the next victim in his line of questioning.

rafe exhales quietly, and you feel his shoulder brush yours as he leans closer, whispering just loud enough for you to hear. “thanks. i owe you one.”

you shrug, keeping your eyes on your notebook. “you’ll survive.”

“yeah, because of you,” he says, his tone teasing but sincere. you can feel his gaze lingering on you, and your cheeks warm involuntarily.

lana, who has been unusually quiet, suddenly clears her throat dramatically. “i see you two are getting along nicely,” she whispers, her voice dripping with mock innocence.

you nudge her under the desk with your foot, shooting her a warning look. “focus, lana.”

“oh, i am,” she replies with a grin, glancing pointedly between you and rafe.

you and lana walk out of spanish class, your bags slung over your shoulders as you weave through the bustling hallway. the faint smell of old textbooks and cleaning supplies lingers in the air, blending with the hum of chatter from other students.

“so,” lana says, adjusting the strap of her bag and glancing at you, “are we pretending that señor martinez’s lecture didn’t put the entire class to sleep?”

you snort. “you mean only you? i saw you zoning out halfway through.”

“hey, i was conserving my energy,” she defends, holding up her hands. “that conjugation nonsense was not giving what it needed to give.”

you laugh softly, shaking your head as the two of you make your way toward your lockers. the conversation shifts to weekend plans, lana animatedly describing some pop-up event she wants to drag you to, when someone passes by on your right.

it’s him.

“hey,” he says, his voice breaking through your conversation like a gentle ripple. he’s walking just slow enough to catch your attention without completely stopping. “thanks for earlier. you saved me with that spanish sentence.”

he flashes you a smile—not the usual cocky smirk you’ve seen him give other people, but something softer, genuine. the kind that makes your chest tighten unexpectedly.

“oh, uh, no problem,” you manage to say, your voice steady despite the warmth creeping up your neck.

he gives a small nod, the corners of his mouth tugging upward just a little more, and then continues walking past you, blending into the crowd.

lana waits until he’s out of earshot before turning to you, her eyebrows raised and her grin positively devious. “okay. what was that?”

you roll your eyes, trying to play it cool. “he was just saying thank you.”

“mmm, sure,” she says, drawing out the words. “because guys like rafe cameron totally go out of their way to say thank you for help in class.”

“it’s called being polite,” you counter, though your voice wavers slightly, betraying your attempt at indifference.

“polite?” lana mimics, her voice dripping with mockery. “girl, he smiled at you like you just solved all his problems. that was not polite; that was something else.”

you shake your head, biting back a smile. “you’re ridiculous.”

“am i?” she teases, bumping her shoulder into yours. “or am i just really good at spotting crush vibes when i see them?”

you groan, quickening your pace to escape her relentless teasing, but the fluttery feeling in your chest doesn’t go away.

a few days rolls by, and it’s time for PE again. the memory of last week’s self-defense unit still lingers in your mind, though you’ve done your best to push it aside. unfortunately, lana hasn’t let you live it down.

“back to the battlefield,” she says dramatically as you walk into the gym together, her water bottle swinging in her hand. “do you think coach davis will make us pair up the same way as last time?”

you glance at her, trying to gauge whether she’s genuinely curious or just looking for an opportunity to tease you again. “i don’t know,” you reply, keeping your tone casual. “probably. he seems like a ‘stick to the plan’ kind of guy.”

lana smirks, nudging you lightly. “good news for you, then.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?” you ask, feigning innocence as you open your water bottle and take a sip.

“oh, nothing,” she replies with a sly grin. “just that a certain quarterback might be looking forward to this more than you think.”

“ooh, look,” lana adds in a whisper, nudging you with her elbow as you make your way toward your spot. “there’s your favorite partner.”

you glance over instinctively and spot rafe standing with the rest of the football team. he’s tossing a basketball between his hands, chatting with topper and a couple of others, looking relaxed and completely at ease.

you try not to linger too long, but as if sensing your gaze, he looks up and meets your eyes. his lips curve into a small, knowing smile, and you quickly look away, your heart doing an unintentional somersault.

“stop it,” you mutter to lana, who’s practically vibrating with excitement at your reaction.

“i’m not even doing anything,” she says innocently, though the smug look on her face says otherwise.

you roll your eyes, but before you can fire back, coach davis claps his hands together, gathering the class’s attention.

“alright, folks!” he booms. “we’re picking up where we left off last week. same pairs, same drills, new moves.”

lana shoots you a triumphant look, barely able to contain her laugh. “told you.”

“shut up,” you mutter under your breath, your cheeks already warming as you glance toward the corner of the gym. sure enough, there’s rafe, standing with the other football players, tossing a basketball between his hands and looking entirely unbothered by the world around him.

when your name is called, followed by rafe’s, you take a deep breath and start walking toward him, feeling Lana’s smug gaze on your back the entire way.

“guess it’s us again,” he says, stopping in front of you. his tone is casual, but there’s a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

“lucky me,” you reply, trying to sound neutral as you set your water bottle on the floor, though your voice comes out a little more sarcastic than you intended.

he chuckles, his hands resting lightly on his hips. “you say that like it’s a bad thing.”

you roll your eyes but can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips.

“ready for round two?” he asks, his tone teasing but warm. there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—maybe amusement, maybe anticipation—but you don’t dwell on it for long.

“i’m ready if you are,” you reply, trying to match his confidence.

this week’s drills involve more complex moves—blocking, evading, and redirecting. rafe listens to coach davis’s explanation but keeps sneaking glances at you, like he’s more interested in your reaction than the actual instructions. you catch him once, and he quickly looks away, scratching the back of his neck with a sheepish grin.

when it’s time to practice, rafe takes his position in front of you, his hands raised slightly. “alright, let’s see what you’ve got.”

you narrow your eyes playfully. “don’t go easy on me.”

his grin widens. “wouldn’t dream of it.”

the first few attempts are clumsy, just like last week, but this time, there’s an unspoken ease between you. the tension feels lighter, replaced by a strange sort of rhythm. when you stumble on one of the blocks, rafe catches your arm instinctively, steadying you without a second thought.

“you okay?” he asks, his voice soft.

“yeah,” you reply quickly, brushing it off. “just lost my balance.”

“good thing i’m here, then,” he says, his grin returning. he’s teasing, but there’s a sincerity in his tone that makes your stomach flip.

as the drill continues, you notice how his confidence contrasts with the careful way he moves around you, never pushing too hard, always adjusting to your pace. it’s almost… considerate. by the end of the session, you’re both slightly out of breath, your cheeks flushed—not just from the exercise.

rafe is surprisingly focused, following coach’s instructions and helping you figure out the movements without making it awkward—well, mostly. he adjusts his stance a couple of times, his hands hovering near your arms to guide you, but he never oversteps, which you appreciate.

“alright, now try shifting your weight forward,” he says, watching as you attempt to push him off balance.

you give it your best shot, planting your feet and leaning into the motion, but he barely moves, his footing solid.

“okay, not bad,” he says, grinning. “but maybe try using a little more…” he pauses, clearly searching for the right word.

“force?” you supply, raising an eyebrow.

“yeah, that.” he nods, his grin widening. “don’t be afraid to go for it.”

you try again, this time putting more effort into the movement. to your surprise, he actually stumbles back a step, his expression shifting to mock surprise.

“whoa—okay,” he says, holding up his hands in surrender. “you’ve got some hidden strength there.”

you laugh despite yourself, shaking your head. “yeah, sure. i’m terrifying.”

“hey, i’m just saying,” he replies, his tone teasing. “remind me not to mess with you.”

lana, paired with topper a few feet away, catches the exchange and immediately starts making faces at you behind rafe’s back. you shoot her a glare, mouthing stop while trying not to laugh.

“what’s so funny?” rafe asks, glancing between you and lana.

“nothing,” you say quickly, straightening up and avoiding his gaze.

laa smirks, her voice carrying just enough for you to hear. “oh, it’s definitely something.”

you groan inwardly, already dreading whatever teasing lana has planned for later. for now, though, you focus on the drill, pretending not to notice the way rafe’s smile lingers just a little

the end of class rolls around, and as everyone starts clearing up and heading toward the locker rooms, rafe lingers near you, casually adjusting the strap of his gym bag. lana notices, of course, and shoots you a knowing look before wandering off toward the door with topper trailing behind her.

you sling your water bottle over your shoulder, about to follow, when rafe steps a little closer. “hey,” he says, his tone casual but with just a hint of hesitation.

“hi,” you reply, glancing up at him curiously.

“so, uh…” he rubs the back of his neck, his usual confidence slipping for just a moment. “are you going to the game tonight?��

you blink, caught a little off guard. “the football game?”

“yeah,” he gives a short laugh, as if there’s any other game he could be talking about. “i mean, it’s kind of a big one. with a rival school and all that.”

you chew on your lip, considering. “ah, i don’t know. i haven’t really thought about it.”

“oh, come on,” he says, a teasing edge creeping into his tone. “i’m playing tonight.”

“i know,” you say with a faint laugh. “you’re the captain.”

there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—maybe amusement, maybe something else entirely. “right. so… you’ll come?”

before you can answer, lana reappears, practically materializing out of thin air. “we’ll be there!” she announces brightly, cutting off whatever excuse you were about to come up with.

your head snaps toward her, eyes wide. “we will?”

“yeah,” lana says, completely unbothered by your subtle glare. “wouldn’t miss it.”

rafe’s grin widens, his gaze flickering between you and lana. “great. see you tonight, then.”

just as you’re about to protest—or at least question why lana is suddenly speaking for you—topper walks by, overhearing the last bit of the conversation. he stops, turning to lana with a raised eyebrow.

“you’re going to the game?” he asks, his tone curious but laced with something else, something like amusement.

lana tilts her head at him, a playful smirk dancing on her lips. “why? you don’t want me there?”

topper stares at her for a second, then shakes his head, the corner of his mouth twitching into a half-smile. “no, i didn’t say that.”

“good,” lana replies breezily, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “because we’ll be there.”

topper blinks, momentarily at a loss for words, before recovering with a lopsided grin. “cool. yeah. that’s… cool.”

you glance between them, unsure whether to roll your eyes or laugh. meanwhile, rafe is still standing next to you, watching the whole exchange unfold with an amused look on his face.

“see you tonight,” rafe says again, this time directing it more toward you. his voice is quieter, as if it’s just for you, and there’s something in his tone that makes your stomach flip.

“yeah,” you manage, your voice a little softer than you intended. “see you.”

rafe’s grin widens, his eyes lighting up in a way that makes your chest tighten. “great. see you then.”

as he walks away with topper, lana nudges you with her elbow, a mischievous glint in her eye.

“you’re welcome,” she says, grinning.

“oh my gosh, did you see the way he was looking at you? you’re so going to that game.”

“lana,” you groan, but she’s already steering you toward the door, topper trailing behind like a lost puppy.

“oh, and topper?” lana calls over her shoulder. “you’d better actually play well tonight if i’m showing up.”

topper laughs, running a hand through his hair. “don’t worry, i’ll make it worth your while.”

“you’re welcome, by the way,” she says, grinning.

“for what?” you ask, even though you already know where this is going.

“getting us prime seats to watch your boy play tonight,” she teases.

you groan, shaking your head. “he’s not my—”

“oh, save it,” she interrupts, laughing. “i’m just saying, this is gonna be very entertaining.”

you shoot lana a look, but she just grins, completely unfazed. “you realize your boy is going to be there as well.”

“ahhh, this is going to be so much fun,” she says, and for some reason, you can’t help but smile too.

you and lana are in her room, sorting through her closet to find something suitable for the football game. clothes are strewn across her bed, some tossed on the floor, and lana is holding up a navy sweater against herself in the mirror.

“what about this? casual but cute, right?” she asks, turning to you.

“it’s cute,” you say, trying not to laugh at the chaos around you. “but are we really dressing up for a football game?”

lana shoots you a look. “first of all, yes. second of all, you need to look extra cute. for a special reason.”

lana holds up a cropped sweater, frowning. “do i go with this? or the green one with the little buttons?”

“the green one,” you say without hesitation. “it makes your eyes pop.”

she nods thoughtfully, tossing the sweater onto a growing pile of rejected options. “okay, green it is. what about you? you can’t just show up in your usual jeans and hoodie. this is a game. there’s a whole vibe.”

before you can respond, lana’s younger sister amalia bursts into the room, a bundle of energy as always. she’s clutching a bowl of popcorn, her hair in a loose braid. at fifteen, she has that untamed curiosity that makes her impossible to ignore.

“what’s going on in here?” amalia asks, plopping down on the floor and grabbing one of lana’s discarded sneakers.

“getting ready for the game,” lana says, tossing the sweater onto the bed and grabbing a scarf.

amalia plops onto the corner of the bed, narrowly avoiding a pile of jeans. “so, like… are you going because you actually care about football, like, someone specific?”

“amalia!” you gasp, laughing, while lana groans.

“obviously, we’re going for the game,” lana says, dragging out the last word like it’s painfully obvious.

“sure you are,” amalia says, smirking. she looks at you. “so, which is it? topper or rafe?”

both lana and you freeze mid-motion, slowly turning to look at her. “what?” you say in unison, your voices dripping with confusion and maybe a hint of panic.

“oh my god, it is true.” amalia’s eyes widen, her tone full of mock scandal. “i mean, i heard you talking on the phone,” she says nonchalantly, taking a bite of her granola bar.

lana’s face contorts into a mix of horror and disbelief. “you were eavesdropping?”

“no!” amalia says defensively, though her grin betrays her. “i just walked past your room, and i heard you say something about rafe. or was it topper? honestly, you were talking so fast, i couldn’t tell.”

“besides, we have thin walls. i can hear every conversation you have.”

you bury your face in your hands while lana groans loudly, tossing a sweatshirt at the younger sister. “you’re the absolute worst, you know that?”

she giggles, dodging the sweatshirt. “what? i’m just curious! so, which one is it? rafe or topper?”

“neither,” you say quickly, trying to sound as calm as possible. “we’re just going because… we have nothing better to do.”

amalia doesn’t look convinced, her eyes darting between the two of you like she’s trying to crack a code. “uh-huh. sure.”

you bury your face in your hands. “can we not do this right now?”

“oh, come on,” she says, grinning. “i have to live vicariously through you guys. my life is so boring.”

her older sister snickers. “you’re fifteen, amalia. you’re supposed to have a boring life.”

amalia rolls her eyes. “whatever. you’re lucky mom and dad aren’t here, or they’d totally make me go with you guys.”

lana points to the door, her tone firm. “okay, get out. now. before i tell mom you stole her granola bars again.”

amalia gasps dramatically, clutching the half-eaten bar to her chest. “you wouldn’t.”

with a huff, amalia stands and heads for the door, but not before throwing one last grin over her shoulder. “fine, but if you don’t tell me what happens tonight, i’m stealing your makeup.”

“go away, amalia!” lana yells, and the door slams shut behind her.

“you’re such a snitch,” could be heard from the other side of the door.

as the silence settles, you and lana exchange a look, and then burst into laughter.

“she’s impossible,” you say, shaking your head.

lana smirks, reaching for her eyeliner. “she’s also not wrong about you and rafe, though.”

you grab a pillow and throw it at her. “shut up!”

the stadium lights flood the field as you and lana make your way to the bleachers. the energy in the air is palpable, the crowd buzzing with excitement as the game is set to begin. the school colors are everywhere—navy and red banners, painted faces, and a sea of matching shirts.

lana’s decked out in navy, her outfit effortlessly stylish, while you’re in red, wearing your school hoodie with pride. she loops her arm through yours as you weave through the crowd.

“this is so chaotic,” lana says, laughing as you dodge a group of cheerleaders running toward the sidelines.

“you’re the one who wanted to come early,” you tease.

“early means we get good seats,” she replies, tugging you along.

as you near the edge of the bleachers, a familiar figure catches your eye. rafe is standing by the fence near the field, already in his uniform, looking every bit the golden boy quarterback he is. his helmet is tucked under one arm, and he’s talking to a teammate, but the moment he spots you, his face lights up.

he steps away, jogging over. “hey!”

“hi,” you reply, a little breathless from the crowd.

“i, uh, saved you and lana some seats,” he says, gesturing toward a spot near the middle of the bleachers, right in prime view of the field.

“oh, thanks!” you say, genuinely surprised and a little touched.

“of course,” he says casually, but there’s a flicker of something in his tone that makes your stomach flip.

meanwhile, lana has already found her focus—topper is lingering a few steps away, looking effortlessly cool in his jersey. she doesn’t waste any time sidling up to him, her voice light and playful as she says, “topper, is this your game face, or do you always look this serious?”

topper smirks, tilting his head at her. “you tell me. think it’s intimidating enough?”

“intimidating? not quite,” she teases, twirling a strand of hair around her finger.

you glance at her, rolling your eyes slightly but smiling. she’s clearly in her element, and for a moment, you’re distracted by their banter.

“hey,” rafe says, drawing your attention back to him.

you look up at him, his expression softer now. “yeah?”

“so, i was thinking…” he starts, trailing off for just a second before giving you a teasing look.

you arch an eyebrow, leaning slightly closer. “really? you were thinking?”

his grin deepens, and he nudges your arm lightly with his elbow. “yeah, shut up. i was thinking…” he pauses again, this time looking a little nervous, though he hides it well. “if i win this game tonight, would you… wanna go out with me?”

you blink, caught completely off guard. his words hang in the air for a moment, and you can’t help the way your lips curve into a smile.

“seriously?” you ask, your voice soft but full of amusement.

“dead serious,” he replies, his eyes locked on yours, a mix of confidence and vulnerability in his expression.

your smile widens, warmth blooming in your chest. “well… i guess i’ll have to cheer extra loud, then.”

his grin stretches across his face, brighter than you’ve ever seen it. “i’ll hold you to that.”

before you can say anything else, lana suddenly appears at your side, her cheeks slightly pink from talking to topper. “come on, we need to grab those seats before someone else does.”

rafe nods, stepping back but keeping his eyes on you. “i’ll see you after the game?”

you nod, your heart still racing. “good luck, captain.”

“thanks,” he says, his voice warm, before jogging back toward his team.

as you and lana make your way to the bleachers, she nudges you with her elbow, her grin mischievous. “sooo… what was that about?”

you shrug, trying to play it cool, but the smile tugging at your lips gives you away.

“uh-huh,” she says, her tone dripping with satisfaction. “you’re so coming to every game from now on.”

you laugh, feeling a little giddy. maybe you just might.

the game has been intense, and the crowd is on edge. the scoreboard has been a back-and-forth battle, but now, as the clock winds down, rafe's team is trailing by just a few points. the stands are buzzing with nervous energy as the players huddle on the field.

you’re perched on the edge of your seat, your eyes glued to rafe, who is looking more focused than ever. he’s been carrying the weight of the game ever since their second best star player was taken out with an injury. it’s clear that he’s frustrated, his jaw clenched as he scans the field, but there’s something else in his eyes: determination.

topper stands beside him, clearly trying to keep up with the intensity, but it’s hard not to notice that rafe’s doing most of the work. he’s calling the plays, directing the team, and every move he makes looks calculated—almost like he’s pushing his limits, but you can see in the way he carries himself that he’s not going to give up.

the clock is ticking down, seconds slipping away like sand in an hourglass.

“come on, come on!” lana mutters beside you, her voice almost lost in the roar of the crowd. you glance at her, her eyes fixed on rafe and topper, and then at the field. the tension is so thick you could almost cut it with a knife.

rafe takes the ball, his eyes scanning for an opening. he’s got no choice now; it’s all on him. he fakes a pass to topper, sending the defenders rushing toward him, then in one swift motion, he dodges a tackle and charges down the field. the crowd rises to its feet, the energy growing with every step rafe takes.

you can’t help but hold your breath as you watch him break through the last line of defense, topper sprinting beside him, staying just close enough to act as backup. rafe’s legs move like they’re made of steel, his eyes locked on the end zone.

with seconds left on the clock, he passes the ball to topper, who’s just a few yards from the end zone. topper catches it and pivots, leaping into the air just as a defender tries to block him. time seems to slow as the ball arcs through the air and lands perfectly in topper’s hands. the crowd erupts as he crosses the goal line, securing the game-winning touchdown.

you can barely hear yourself think over the deafening roar of the crowd. you jump up with lana, both of you screaming and clapping in excitement. rafe’s face lights up as the team floods onto the field to congratulate topper, but he’s still scanning the crowd for someone.

you catch his eye, and for a split second, everything else fades away. his grin is wide, the exhaustion and tension melting off his face, replaced by sheer triumph.

“looks like you’ll be getting that date after all,” lana says, her voice full of teasing as she nudges you, but you barely hear her. all you can focus on is rafe’s smile, the way he’s looking at you from across the field.

you can feel your heart skip a beat as the final whistle blows. the game is over, and against all odds, rafe’s team pulled through.

lana cheers next to you, but you’re still staring at rafe, a grin tugging at the corner of your lips. he winks at you, the energy of the win still buzzing in his movements.

it’s official: rafe cameron just won the game—and, if you’re being honest, you think he just might’ve won a little bit of your heart too, especially when he was looking right at you after winning the game.

MASTERLIST

CURRENT TAGLIST⋆⭒˚｡⋆

@maybankslover ⟢ @honeyluvsatj ⟢ @zazidot ⟢ @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 ⟢ @lunaleah ⟢ @maybanksangel ⟢ @wtfdudesblog. ⟢ @niktwazny303. ⟢ @outerbanksloverp4l ⟢ @slut4you ⟢ @maybanksgirl69 ⟢ @hstbsl06 ⟢ @percysley

[mixingandmelting]

Hii,

I'm not sure if your requests are open but I wanted to ask you if you could write a Dick Grayson x reader one where the reader is the daughter of one of Bruce's business partners and they meet at some sort of charity gala and he's instantly smitten with her.

Feel free to ignore this if you have too much to do.

Thanks ❤️

Witty, charming, and someone who matches his humor. He didn’t think he’d hit the jackpot tonight. Initially he had simply wanted to keep you company after seeing you all alone at your table. He expected either shy and sheltered or spoiled and flirty.

“A table for one at a gala?”

“What do you mean? Can’t you see I’m actually with three others?”

“Oh really? And they are…?”

“Me, myself and I.”

It comes with a pleasant surprise how the roles reverse and it’s him getting entertained by you. He lost track of how long he stayed at your table, unable to stop himself from chatting with you. You’re where the party’s at in this boring event and it confuses him how no one else has attempted to strike up a conversation with you for this long. Not that he’s complaining; he’s plenty satisfied to have you to himself. Your jokes draw genuine laughter from him while your laughter is just as infectious. The way your eyes sparkle and crinkle as you do- he rests his head onto his hand, admiring it and not wanting it to disappear. He can’t get enough. 

There’s no barrier or rich people’s behavior seen despite you introducing yourself as the daughter of one of Bruce’s many business partners and him as Bruce Wayne’s adoptive son not too long ago. Not even an hour in and you both are acting as friends that haven’t seen each other in ages. Perhaps even more if he plays his cards right tonight. Take you out for a nice walk. Grab something to eat. If you’re into it, watch a movie. All of the ideas that come from him jesting about rich people never imagining or having no knowledge of what the common people do for fun only for you to snort about how else were you to learn to talk and behave like them then. 

“Earth to Dick?”

Oops. He flushes under the smirk that dances on your lips, caught red-handed for day-dreaming his date with you. Not that you’d know the last part, but still.

“Am I starting to bore you yet?”

Yet? This whole time you were trying to get rid of him? The grin you give as you take a sip of whatever’s in your flute tells him otherwise. Returning one of his own, he’s about to respond before someone behind him calls your name. 

Turning around are your parents, walking side-by-side with none other than Bruce who raises an eyebrow at him. Ugh. Great. He most definitely won’t hear the end of this one. Looking back at you, he catches a spark of wistfulness in your eyes that quickly disappears as you give him one last smile. 

“Seems like that’s my cue.”

“Wait.” He’s conscious with his grip on your arm, gentle yet firm to grab your attention. “If you’re into it, mind giving me your number and we can hang out later?”

You bite your lip when you’re thinking. Good to know; definitely something that won’t leave his mind for a while. He tries not to show how giddy he is when you extend your phone out towards him. Giving him a tiny wave, you leave while telling him you would text him. The rest of the night goes uneventful as he mingles with others, half paying attention to what they say as he continues to think about you. Others including his family who wouldn’t stop giving him crap. 

It’s once he reaches back to his place and comes out of the showers, he gets a text. Drying his hair with a towel in one hand, he looks to see your name with a sunglasses emoji under your number. His heart somersaults and he fist pumps the air. He can regret not sleeping tomorrow morning, for now all he wants is to talk to you and make the date between you and him a reality.

[wachtelspinat]

do you have any advice, resources or practices you recommend for making your art more expressive? I adore how you push expressions and body language, and the way it keeps its weight is phenomenal! I wanna learn how to do that, too!

hey thank you so much <3

one of the most important things that i've learned on my way and that i've kept in my mind ever since is what makani states in [this post] sometimes i go into a drawing and just try to construct it bit by bit, only to realize that the eyes don't fit the mouth etc... then i remember to treat it all as ONE expression and (second very important lesson incoming) i erase everything and start anew (i know it feels bad to just delete a sketch of a head (you don't have to delete it right away, you can always just take another layer) but believe me it not only saves you tons of time, you also learn more when you just start over from scratch. the thing i do is as follows, i keep the bad sketch open and try to figure out what i don't like about it, and put extra focus in those areas in the new sketch. like i think the eyes were too dull in the first try? the solution is to draw them open even wider, turn up that expression a nodge, try to "bend" it). i know this sounds exhausting, you might think isn't it easier to just try to fix the first sketch? i thought so too for many years, but believe me, if you don't like it, start a new one. you will always be amazed on how good it can turn out (and, as said before, the benefit of analyzing your own art and trying to figure out what went wrong and fixing it in a new attempt is HUGE.)

third thought on this is "don't be afraid to push the boundaries". like i grew up being a huge ren & stimpy fan as a kid, i love classic cartoons, i love exagerated expressions so much, eyes popping out, sweat drops flying around, over the top visualisation of feelings. that's my shit (pizza tower i'm looking at you). then on the other hand i also love things feeling palpable and real, hence the weird mix of my style i guess... what i want to say is: don't be afraid to push your expressions a bit. not only is it fun, with the right balance it really adds to it all (in regards of body language and facial expressions likewise).

and last but not least, so important: use references. i often take photos of myself doing weird gestures just to see how the mouth or the eyes would look like for a specific expression, how the nose wrinkles, how the shoulder come up when trying to visualize that someone is tense etc etc. use ref, please, not only photos but also drawings, try to figure out how other artists translate certain gestures in their art, how can you stylize this (everything ofc without copying directly from them... like for personal practice everything is cool and chill, but respect the rules of the artist community)

it is hard to pinpoint down how everything we do in our art lives comes down to what we draw at the end of the day, like everything i post, how it looks, is the result of almost 2 decades of drawing with a purpose, but i hope this helps a bit.

[kaisaerinlover]

if you could describe kaiser in two words you would be forced to use the words mean and conniving, if you even dared to speak any bad about him that is. you darent even have a bad thought about him recently though, because he’s been ignoring you. he was so nice before? what happened? why doesn’t he like you anymore? is he too scared to break up? what’s going on?

kaiser can guess your thought process exactly, it’s funny really. funny how predictable and dense you are; it’s fine though. he doesn’t care, he likes you this way, panicky and anxious that he doesn’t like you anymore. he likes you a lot, that’s why he’s doing this, you know? after all, relationships don’t work for him unless he plays a little dirty with the other. manipulation is a staple of any relationship actually, or any sort of abuse. no one stays without toxicity, that’s not the way of the world. not the way of his world - and as far as he’s concerned, his world morphs into your world. when you choose to date him you unknowingly choose to abide by the laws of life he lived and continues to live by.

i mean, it’s not like he wants to ignore you (he does), it’s not like he wants to see how disgustingly despair filled you are every time he brushes you off like you’re nothing more than a stranger to him (he does), it’s not like he has a choice in any of this, he has to manipulate you, it’s just how life works (it’s not). if you were half as intellectual as he is, you would realise what he’s doing, but he thinks you should be thankful. thankful that he’s putting in this effort and going to these lengths just to ensure you won’t leave him anytime soon. he just loves you too much to let you go now. he let himself get attached to you, so this is your punishment. human emotions and attachments are the bane of his very existence, he hates them. he doesn’t like being so dependant on someone else, doesn’t like the way you affect him and his mood, hates feeling loved and hates knowing he has to give love in return; it’s difficult to learn after everything he’s experienced in life. this is your punishment for getting him so entranced with you. deal with it now, if you wanna date him this is what you get.

he’s a pretentious man, he won’t even label emotions as, well, just that: emotions. he labels them human emotions. he really thinks he’s way above them, knows himself as a god. but then again; it’s the opposite. he’s a subhuman piece of shit. what a complicated mind; any psychology student, therapist or simply just psychology interested freak would have a field day with him. but here he is instead with you. punishing you with his indifference for engraving yourself so deeply within his soul.

poor you, when he dismisses you the last time and goes to leave the house you break and cry. you cry like a baby, and he almost feels bad. only almost, not quite there yet, the face you make when you cry is quite beautiful, isn’t it? why does he do this to you? if he leaves you will he even come back? you can’t take it and you can’t risk it.

when kaiser feels you tug on his arm and hears your crying he smirks to himself before turning around. you’re easy; far too easy. he won. he turns around and stares at you, a stare so hard you swear it pierces right through you like a blade. “come on, d-don’t leave me-“ you somehow manage to sputter out between your arousing sobs. only a sicko like him could find something like this arousing, gross. his mask of nonchalance never slips though, what a crazy man he is, able to control and maintain everything; even his stimuli. control for the most part anyway. “hm?” he doesn’t even bother to give you a real worded answer, you’re not worth it are you?

kaiser is awfully good at mind games, he knows it, he’s enjoying playing with you. messing with your head, it’s even funner when he knows exactly what you’re thinking. you’re in shambles, to say the very least. all you can see in his eyes is contempt towards you. why is he leaving you? you don’t want that, is leaving you really so simple? so easy? such a mundane and effortless task? are you that unimportant he can disregard you and treat you like this without a second thought? is it because other girls are better? they have a knack for something that you just quite never grasped? how is that fair? he’s your whole world, hell you’re struggling right now with him being cold towards you for, in retrospect, a short amount of time. and he is yet to even bat an eyelash at the mistreatment he’s giving you.

his tone is brimming with derision when he opens his mouth next; “what are you talking about? dumb girl?” you feel so embarrassed, what does he mean? no, maybe he’s testing you, it’s a test isn’t it? to see if you’ll beg? you will, you would, you can, you’re going to, you’d do everything to ensure he stays. even if it’s degrading. dehumanising. even if anyone who found out how hard you begged for his love and affection would be disgusted with your desperation and drop you. you would do anything. “j-jus’ don’t leave me micha- i-i don’t even know what i did- please-“ you beg. and you plead. you’re so cute when you’re this desperate, playing right into his hands like putty. you’re priceless, adorable really. he has to put effort in to hide the smirk that wants to show on his face so badly. but then you say something that he’s heard a million times before. he’s heard you say it before too. but right now it pisses him off and makes him sick. makes him angry when you choke out through your tears a weak declaration of love.

“i l-love you-“ he hates it. he’s heard it so many times, from fans and empty headed fangirls, from you as well. but right now it makes him want to vomit. he’s angry, doesn’t know how to react to it in this situation. and it shows on his face. shows in his actions when he grabs you so roughly and smashes his lips into yours. when he pulls away, he’s looking into your eyes so deeply. you’re an idiot, you should know what loving him entails. he thinks you should shut your mouth. your admission made him feel guilty. god he wishes you’d just shut the fuck up; but his eyes are telling you differently. silently pleading for something he’s never allowed himself to want. and you can tell too, stupid as you are, you’re somehow able to read what he desires in the moment from his eyes alone. “micha i l-love you” you sputter out again. he licks his lips as he watches a tear roll down your cheek and feels his insides churn, flutter, disintegrate and whatever else as you confess to him again.

it’s rare, that he feels this way i mean, totally and utterly rare. he feels sickened at your words. filled with guilt. you really love him and he really loves you too, he can’t fathom why he insists on treating you in this way. he really can’t. and he can’t fathom why he feels so much guilt over it, because everything he does is for himself. he’s a self indulgent man; that’s why he’s even more confused when he instinctively reaches out to wipe a tear running down your cheek away. he lives for himself and to make himself feel alive, tending to you doesn’t exactly fit into the equation most of the time, so he’s not sure why is body is subconsciously moving to aid you. he’s not sure why he’s suddenly aching to comfort you. he’s not sure why he’s reconsidering what he did by now. manipulating isn’t nice, only an idiot doesn’t know that, and he’s no idiot. he’s one of the smartest people you’ll ever meet in your life.

and you, sweet you, you’re hardly a victim of this anymore. you’re letting it happen, sitting and letting him do whatever he wishes with you. you’re as disgusting as he is in a way. he might have you wrapped around his thumb; he might be a master of manipulation, but you’ve had so many chances to leave yet you haven’t. because you’re dumb deep down. dumber than what he takes you for. as he dotes on you in a manner that he perceives is against his free will, you instantly feel at ease and better. you forget everything bad he just did to you. forget the weeks you spent having to play guessing games to work out why he’s suddenly giving you the icy cold treatment, you give in to his whims and relish in the attention he’s suddenly showering you in. it’s not that you’re entirely lacking in self awareness, no, quite the opposite actually. you’re just convinced he’s not all that bad, that deep down he’s not mean at all, he’s not evil to the core. and as much as even he would like that to be true, he knows it’s not. he had a rough start in life, a rough childhood, a rough few years. he’s never had it easy - but he can’t pretend that he hasn’t had any chances to change.

as he strokes your hair and feels you lean into his touch, he ponders all of the opportunities handed to him on a platter to rebuild himself into something better. remembers how all he’s ever wanted is to be loved, yet he pushes away or straight up abuses the ones who adore him the most. in a weird self loathing way, but also a display of superiority, to show how everyone around him is disposable, how important he is compared to everybody else. he’s convinced he’s evil down to the very blood courses through him, every cell in his body, and you’re convinced he’s not bad at all. that this is all some weird ploy. you’re not entirely sure, you just don’t want to believe he’s mean.

neither of you are wrong. he’s not as kindhearted as you’d like to believe he is and he’s not as cruel as he hates believing he is. the truth is that you’ve rubbed off on each other deeply. that your empathy and grace has moved him and shaped his person into something new entirely, and how his narcissistic tendencies and manipulative nature have made you more susceptible to his, well, his something. malice? shenanigans? there’s simply not a word in english to describe this man. whatever goes on in the brain of michael kaiser is complicated.

and as he holds you, rubs his hand up and down your back as he finds himself holding you so tightly, he realises he almost regrets ignoring you for all of that time. making you believe he really doesn’t love you anymore when he really loves you more than anything in the world. only almost though, because he enjoys having you like this. vulnerable and cute in his lap, longing for his attention. his beloved girl, only for him, all his. he knows it’s wrong but he has to keep doing what he’s doing to you. needs to keep up the cycle of nonstop manipulation, or you might leave. he doesn’t want you to become self aware and leave him.

and as you listen to his heartbeat whilst leaning your head against his toned chest, feeling some of his hair fall atop your head, you feel content. even if you’re self aware already, even though you know it’s so disturbing and messed up to even feel anything except contempt about this dynamic, you feel at peace. you and kaiser deserve each other after all, you’re just too stupid to realise it. kaiser remembers your earlier affections, the ones he left unreturned. you’re an idiot, he thinks. saying you love him, it has dark connotations. it doesn’t bestow anything but misfortune upon you, but you say it anyway. “meine geliebte, i love you so much” he whispers into your ear, nipping at it. he can feel his heart beating against your soft cheek. he lets out a sigh of relief he didn’t even know he was holding in. he feels tranquil too. this and soccer, this and hurting others, this and hurting you; this is what makes him feel alive. he feels alive. he knows he’s alive.

“love you too micha” you confess back, not like it’s much of a confession anyway, nor a secret. and as he strokes your hair gently and kisses your forehead, gives you these small gestures of love and tenderness in a rare moment of uncharacteristic softness, does these things for you as you confess back; he knows he’s alive.

he knows he’s alive because his heartbeat sped up a bit and he feels tingly inside. because of your words and your devote to him. he wonders if this is how you feel too. being gentle isn’t all so bad, but don’t get used to it.

you know not to get used to it, but even you can’t help but to fantasise about being a normal couple with kaiser.

not that either of you mind this, though. you thrive on the toxicity and uncertainty this dynamic provides, as twisted as it is. and at least you love each other. at least you’re pampered and provided with attention. at least kaiser found someone that makes him feel really and truly alive. someone he knows he can ensure won’t leave.

[asongofmarvelanddc]

I’ve always said Bella turning into a vampire should’ve been explored as a tragedy.

Everything somehow works out for her perfectly:

she doesn’t have an uncontrollable thirst

she learns how to act human in almost no time

she gets to keep her father in her life and the wolves as allies

she keeps jacob’s friendship (and he’s not in love with her anymore so that’s great for her)

her half-vampire baby who’s aging rapidly will coincidentally stop aging at a magically perfect age.

I know it’s ultimately just a romance covered with thin, flimsy supernatural wrapping, but let’s treat twilight as serious fiction for a second.

Imagine if:

after turning, the Cullens now all have to deal with the pack coming after them for turning a human.

on that first hunt, Bella kills someone and has to deal with that grief and guilt.

Charlie is told about her death, and Bella has to deal with the fact that she can never see him again. That she’s broken his heart and he’ll be grieving, probably depressed for the rest of his life.

the Cullens discover that there is no cure to Renesmee’s aging and that it won’t stop. If Bella and Edward had to come to terms with the fact that half-vampire beings were never supposed to exist, so by their very nature they don’t live long.

Of course, in the end Bella and Edward can still find happiness after all the years of grief. It’s not impossible, but the fact that it just all goes right for them after Bella turns just never sat right with me.

Edited to add: Bella not facing any consequences for vampirism also cheapens all the stakes previously set up. Everyone warns her of the bad shit that comes with vampirism and she basically says she’s strong enough to deal with all of it. What’s the point in going through with that choice if that “strength” is never tested?

Bella’s entire post-death arc should’ve been filled with her questioning herself and her decision to turn. It should’ve been “Was this truly worth it?”. Even if in the end Bella’s answer ends up being yes (dk why it would be) the questions and the inner conflict is what makes a compelling story and a narrative pay-off.

I haven’t talked about twilight in a hot minute but can you imagine if smeyer wasn’t such a pussy and had Jacob and Bella like not be cool anymore after she turns into a vampire. Like everything kind of just kind of turns to shit for Bella after she turns. She ends up actually killing that Hunter and her best friend doesn’t want to talk to her anymore because the vampires ARE his enemy which makes her the enemy too. Imagine the angst.

[asarigg]

About: Part 1

this section is meant to be for topics that I didn't include either because it didn't feel very organic with what was being talked about or... honestly I don't remember. Anyway, I hope these can also bring new ideas for you.

YEARS ALONE

Koujaku received his tattoo around the age of 15, and was at least 23 when he returned to the island, leaving a gap of around eight years that he spent completely alone, dealing with his trauma, without help. We don’t know anything about how he lived since then, what kind of contact he had with the rest of his family, because he says that he lost the contact he had with the rest of his family, when he traveled to Midorijima and the border was closed, not before. In those years he had to learn to cut hair, work on his own and gradually separate himself from his family. I always imagined that Koujaku would be homeschooled, instead of going to a normal school, since he was chosen as the heir. Maybe before that he would go to a regular school with other children. Without having a normal education he probably had to go back to studying as an adult to be able to get his degree. I mention some hcs about this later on too.

SCRAP

Observing the elements that appear in his mind, I’ve always wanted to have a bad ending that would involve the Scrap environment, it’s ideal for horror, can you blame me? When Aoba enters, he’s in a dark room, without furniture or decoration. When he goes to another room it turns out to be exactly the same as the previous one, and so on, countless more rooms until finally the appearance changes. For Koujaku being in that house felt like an endless labyrinth, all the rooms seemed equally oppressive, equally caging, hence why they all look the same. And all the doors have a dragon painted on them, wherever he looked, wherever he went, there was no escape, just another dark room, uninviting, cold, strange, disturbing, hostile, suffocating, all while some hairlike snakes chased him, demonstrating just how engraved the image of Ryuuhou is in his mind, torturing him and keeping him prisoner. The dragon painted on the doors has five claws, meaning it's an imperial dragon. The imperial dragon is supposed to represent the chinese emperor, so other dragons had four or three claws. Japanese dragons have a standard of three claws, and you can see three claws on the dragon that is on Ryuuhou's kimono. Maybe this is just meant to be Ryuuhou seeming like a regular, standard person (with a bunch of skulls around his neck uh), but in Koujaku's mind, he reveals his true form, almighty, powerful, someone way superior to him.

When the next room finally changes its appearance, Aoba finds a teenage Koujaku being tattooed, strands of hair enveloping him in a cocoon in a bed drenched with his own blood. And how ironic that the very tattoo that keeps him trapped and transforms him is made of hair.

Also, don’t you find it curious that Koujaku is reborn from a cocoon giving him a connection with butterflies and that Aoba’s dad told him about those big blue butterflies when he was a kid? Yeah… My butterfly kouao art was canon after all, they're not beating the allegations. The butterfly on the vip card of the club too…

DEVELOPMENT OF THEIR RELATIONSHIP. PATH TO HEALING: part 1

We talked already about Aoba and Koujaku’s relationship, symbolically, already starting long before you even get to their route. Obviously the route is a crisis in their friendship, but the feelings were already emerging long before, so it’s also a "breakup in their romantic relationship". The lack of communication and trust is what makes everything start to fall apart, and given the fact that he leaves with some women right at the beginning, it gives space to the infidelity and jealousy themes. I also have my opinions about this scene, but it’s nothing we haven’t mentioned already and they’re not things unique to them but in the entire game. I think it’s a terrible mistake that all this happens immediately after they walk through the door into PJ. They don’t give you any time to get used to the new environment, when we had Koujaku swearing his loyalty to Aoba and telling him that they would do everything they could to put an end to Toue’s cartoon villain evil plans.

I really think it would have been a good thing if they could wander the streets for a while, making you see that Koujaku is committed to this instead of making him fuck off as soon as he sees a woman, helping with the pace of the story and the feelings you should be having about them. He gives such a carefree image that it feels weird especially coming after the talk he gives to Aoba, it doesn’t feel true to himself.

And yes, it’s true that they leave crumbs, like describing his smile as forced, and that he has a strange expression when he sees the woman with the tattoo, but they are things that could be done later perfectly, and I even think it could work better, because it would leave you more disoriented, which is precisely what you should be thinking at this moment, better than a “okay man whatever”. You don’t even think about these details the first time you read it so the impression is more impactful. I don’t think Koujaku would walk away so soon, even if they ran into the girls as soon as they entered. Ryuuhou ruined his life, as well as his father, it’s not just any family problem, but a snowball of traumas that has been rolling around since his childhood. After years of working on forgetting him and stop seeking revenge, seeing a tattoo probably made by him must have felt like a kick in the balls, like seeing a ghost. He would be surprised and confused, of course, but I don’t know if he would go with them right away. His impulsiveness is important, but as an adult this is more nuanced. It’s not like one of the “provocations” he was responding to before, it’s no direct danger, it’s just a tattoo that might have been made by him, while he also has to keep appearances up next to Aoba. When faced with a personal dilemma he thinks about it a lot more, he hesitates. Maybe he needed time to process all this, to really think about what to do now that his memories are more vivid than ever.

Which btw after Koujaku sees Aoba sleeping in his bed you never see him with women (willingly lol). The ones in the beginning of his route don’t count because that’s for lore reasons :smug face:

Maybe as a result of this, Aoba would notice that his attitude after saying goodbye to those two women has changed, that he seems more quiet and serious, nervous, looking for excuses when Aoba asks him. Maybe later, when they decided to go to rest, instead of going to Glitter with Aoba, he would leave him alone and go see these women after exchanging numbers or something like that. That way, you can feel the role that Koujaku has as Aoba’s friend, and the tension and mystery are built step by step, not throwing it all at once.

Aoba not only gets angry with him when he chooses to go with those women, but rather he gets disappointed, he gets tired. Being in the critical situation they are in, in which they basically have to infiltrate “enemy territory” and overthrow the brainwashing empire of a millionaire bastard, you’d expect him to get angry way more forcefully. Of course we later learn why he does it, but at this moment the only thing that would cross his mind would be to hold it against him, grab his arm and stop him, but none of that happens.

But Aoba’s initial annoyance quickly fades, he seems rather disappointed, sad, especially when he sees them enter a nightclub. Because Koujaku has chosen to go with them instead of staying by his side, leaving him alone. Whenever he goes with these women, Aoba sees him from behind, from a distance. A cold and impersonal posture representative of the distance that is growing between them, as if he was something unattainable for him.

[starryjake]

What do you think are the top kinks for Andteam?~~~ (I'm new to your blog. I LOVE YOU FOR STUNNING ANDTEAM!~💕💕)

(a/n: this took me so long i could not think of any kinks for the life of me buttttt this is what i came up with!!)

k:

size - k is super tall and i think he would love being with someone a lot tinier than him. he likes someone he can make fun of for being short but when it comes to bed, he loves having someone that’s just easy to manhandle. he likes being able to lift you up or turn you around and just have his way with you with ease. feels a sense of pride about being so much bigger than you and likes to feel like he can protect you.

brat taming - likes to put you in your PLACE! secretly likes when you’re bratty but doesn’t show it at all, only shows how annoyed and frustrated he gets whenever you’re acting that way. he just loves to have an excuse to punish you: whether it’s edging you, overstimulating you, or if you’ve been really bad, then not letting you cum at all. he’s so cute and sweet most of the time but he can get pretty stern in bed!

begging - he’s so difficult i stg. i just know he’s gonna make you beg if you want something from him. you want him to finger you? you need to say please at least like three times. you want his cock? he basically expects you to be on your knees purely begging for him to give it to you. he just loves it so much, knowing you want him badly enough that you’re willing to beg like a pathetic little thing. and he will not hesitate to call you a pathetic little thing for needing him so bad.

more under the cut…

fuma:

breeding - like it just makes sense. he just loooooves having you in a mating press and fucking all his cum deep inside you, completely staining your insides. he’ll stay inside you for a few minutes just to ensure that his cum is doing it’s thing, and when he pulls out, he stuffs it all back inside with his fingers. he isn’t actually ready to knock you up yet, but just the idea makes him hard as a rock.

spanking - if his partner is being a brat, bro does not PLAY. he does not hold back. takes you to the nearest couch or bed and bends you ever his lap, spanking you and making you count until he feels like you’ve learned your lesson. it turns him on so fucking much feeling you writhe and shake in his lap, only to look up at him with teary eyes after and apologize for being a brat. almost always ends with him fucking the absolute shit out of you.

pet play - likes to put you in cute kitten ears or bunny ears, and collars too. likes to call you kitten and puppy and see you act all sweet and cute for him. LOVES it when you suck his dick while you’re wearing your ears, like i just know that’s the quickest way to make him bust. this way, he loves telling you what to do and you know you should do it if you want to avoid punishment (insert spanking kink).

nicholas:

• size - while k’s size kink is more in relation to the difference in height or body, nicho’s is more about his big dick lol. by that i mean he loves nothing more than to see you struggle to take his dick. it’s super hot to him the first time he’s having sex with someone and they can’t take it, but especially when he has sex with them again and they still can’t take it. like no amount of practice will ever get you accumulated to his big size.

• choking (giving) - he just looks like he likes it and like REALLY likes it. like he likes doing it hard too, wrapping his hand around your neck and actually squeezing it tight. obviously he’s not gonna squeeze it tight enough to like genuinely hurt you, but just enough to turn your face red and have you gasping for a breath. likes to do it when he’s fucking you real hard, when he just can’t control himself anymore and has to see you weak underneath him.

• marking (giving) - i just know he loves seeing you covered in hickeys. he’s careful when it comes to your neck, knowing it’s too obvious and too many people would be able to see it, which is why he opts for more private places that only he can see, like your thighs and hips and chest. you just look too perfect covered in purple bruises, each a little reminder of the sensual moment you had together.

ej:

• dirty talk - this may come as a surprise and i understand, but HEAR ME OUT! i just oddly see him as someone, when he gets in the right mood, just loves to tease you and get pretty nasty with you. just likes being a little mean to you during sex, always with a teasing grin on his face. teases you about how loud you’re moaning, about how you’re such a needy whore, how pathetic you are. i know this is a hot take but i know he has it in him!

marking (receiving) - likes marking you but LOVES when you mark him. nothing pleases him more than taking off his shirt, looking in the mirror, and seeing himself covered in purple hickeys all from you. he loves seeing the contrast of the old fading ones with the fresh ones, all scattered around his collar bones and chest. he likes when you bite him and scratch him too, anything that’s sure to leave a mark.

cum eating - he won’t force you, but he REALLY loves when you swallow his cum. if you’re sucking him off and he warns you that he’s about to finish and you keep your mouth on him, he gets SO EXCITED bc he knows you’re gonna let him cum down your throat. he has a habit of holding your head to his cock when he cums, ensuring that you get all his cum. then he’ll make you stick your tongue out once he’s done to make sure you swallowed every last drop!

yuma:

• quickies - i see him constantly having random spurts of energy that have him needing ways to get it out. as a result, he starts fucking you. these rounds only go for about five minutes but they’re just enough for him to release some of his pent up energy as well as make both you and him feel good. he also likes the slight risk factor in it because you never know when and where he’s gonna get the urge to fuck you.

• throat fucking - lives to see and hear you choke on his cock. when you give him the okay to fuck your throat, he goes for it and he goes hard. grabs you by the hair on the back of your head and just starts pounding your mouth. you’re gagging and drooling around him and practically crying, and he just loves it. especially loves it if you let him cum in your mouth and swallow it.

edging - he can lowkey be so mean during sex sometimes, and what i mean by that is he simply will not let you cum, at least not right away. he’ll get you so close, to the brink of your orgasm, and then rip it right away from you. he just loves to see how frustrated you get, sometimes to the point of tears, and how you beg with all your might to cum. normally, he eventually caves and lets you cum, but he likes to have his fun first.

jo:

• choking (receiving) - listen. he’s just so pretty and i can imagine my hand around his neck and him liking it. like the noises he would let out while you’re squeezing his pretty neck, soft little sighs and a deep moan here and there. i can see him shyly grabbing your hand and bringing it up to your neck to get you started.

• getting bossed around - idk what the actual kink name for this would be but hear me out! he just likes to let you do literally whatever you want with him and especially likes it when you’re a little mean about it. obviously don’t be TOO mean but you know…assert your dominance. likes when you declare what position you wanna be in and he just goes with it, letting you take the reigns.

• eye contact - i think at first when you initiated eye contact during sex, it made him super nervous and embarrassed, but he found that he kinda liked the way that being nervous and embarrassed felt. it just excited him more, and so whenever you grab him by the face and get him to look into your eyes, he just feels a certain way. he feels so shy and nervous, yet so close and connected to you at the same time.

[solarpunkani]

Things To Do To Maintain Hope In These Trying Times

Okay so look. This isn't the desireable outcome for me and my fellow solarpunks, but I personally find that I have two options right now--panic and wait for the worst; or dream of, hope for, and work towards the best that I can manage. And I prefer that second option. Is a single individual going to be able to remold the societal systems we find ourselves in, reshape the fabric of our government and turn everything for the better in the next four years? If someone can, it's not me.

But what I can do is do stuff to make things better, lighter, and more hopeful for myself and my community around me, through actions big and small. So here's what I plan to do, or hope to take on, to keep myself from absolutely doomspiraling. And if this list helps you, inspires you to take up an action I'm doing or to try something completely different, by all means that's amazing! What's more solarpunk than inspiring others to be more solarpunk?

Anyways

1: Trash Cleanups and Other Volunteering

I joined a mutual aid group a few months back and lately we've been doing a lot of trash clean ups, which I find really fun! It also helps feel like I'm making a tangible, helpful difference in my community--the areas look nicer for humans, there's less litter issues for plants and animals--it's just a general improvement! I have recently found nothing gets me fired up quite like a trash cleanup these days. I would also like to join more volunteering/mutual aid groups in the area, I'd just have to find ones that fit my current work schedule (and aren't a huge commute to and fro). Maybe someday this year I'll get the courage (and time) to join the Food Not Bombs in my city for a few events!

Maybe picking up trash at parks and ditches and intersections isn't going to improve the entire nation's situation, I'll never claim that it would. But improving the world around you, even a little bit, can help get the ball rolling for other changes--maybe people will start using a park more once its cleaned up, maybe native plants will reclaim that ditch and create a new habitat, maybe people will see us cleaning and see our flag and check out other stuff our organization does! Bit by bit, we're contributing to a brighter, cleaner future.

Maybe I'll get the courage to clean up some trash on my own, who knows.

2: Make Stuff With My Hands

This covers a lot of things, and not always a physical thing to hold. Maybe it's crocheting little plushies, or hats and cardigans, or anything I feel like to accomplish something. Maybe I'll learn to sew more things, or how to embroider. Maybe I'll draw, or write more short stories, or work on my longer projects.

Sure, some things can be made to give away or donate, or can be made with a specifically solarpunky end goal and message. But honestly, even if I'm not writing solarpunk short stories or drawing solarpunky art, if I'm writing or drawing anything it helps bring me hope--and brightens the day of my friends who enjoy it too!

3: Gardening and Sharing

It's winter as I'm writing this, which means its about time to dive headfirst into garden planning and seed starting! Even the process of watching something grow from a tiny little seed to a fully-grown plant brings me hope, and every different kind of plant gives hope for a different reason! My pollinator garden helps me take action to assist the native pollinator species by giving them a place to feed and grow, and the more kinds of native plants I provide the more habitat I create for them! And the fruits and vegetables I grow bring a sense of accomplishment with each harvest, and satisfaction as I share them with family, friends, and neighbors! I am still chasing the high of sharing bowls and bowls of tomatoes and peppers with my cul-de-sac.

In addition to my own personal garden, my volunteering group is looking into adopting an abandoned community garden and bringing it back to life! If we can (still waiting for approval), it'll bring access to fresh veggies and herbs to the nearby community, and if it goes well we may even try to take up more around town! I'm really, really excited about this project!!

Maybe sharing produce from my garden will inspire my neighbors to create their own (I'm already lowkey claiming credit for inspiring one neighbor to start growing tomatoes last year), and share their extra produce, and inspire more people to garden! Maybe talking about my pollinator garden and sharing seeds with my friends and coworkers will create more interest, and more habitat for for local creatures! Maybe if I yap about milkweed and tree snags hard enough, people will see the expanses of grass on the sides of the road differently, or find a different species to advocate for!

Then of course there's the possibility of guerrilla gardening. While there are a lot of reasons I haven't taken it up super hard yet (not finding good sites, not having a lot of money for throwaway seeds, not wanting to be a black woman in the south doing 'weird stuff' on the side of the road, etc), maybe I will. In any case, I have brought up the idea of scattering wildflower seeds at some of the sites we clean up to my volunteering group--if that idea gets taken up, that could in a sense be guerrilla gardening, right?

4: Clean My Goddamn Room

"Ani what does cleaning your room have to do with hope in these trying times" Clean room, clean mind, more room to start seeds, less environmental stress. Maybe just doing a few chores when I'm feeling anxious can help me take time to think things through instead of downspiraling, or can help me work my way through a plot hole in a story, or think of a new project to take up.

Maybe for you guys its not 'cleaning your room,' maybe its some other task. Sometimes doing a small, mundane task for yourself can give you the vibes and energy to take up another challenge!

5: Encouraging Others

I've said it before and I'll say it again, is there anything more solarpunk than encouraging other people to be more solarpunk?

Even if you aren't waxing poetic about the values and virtue of the solarpunk movement, being a source of hope and light for others can do a surprising amount to get things done! For example, if I personally can't muster the courage to go to an FNB event or a rally, or if something comes up and I suddenly find myself unable to garden this year or keep doing trash cleanups, if I--through talking about my hobbies or sharing resources on how to start or just existing and vibing with my gay little NPC bounce and chatting about sunflowers in a checkout line--inspire five other people to take up an action, that's five more people taking up an action. And that action can lead to them doing more and more, bigger and better things. If I help a friend feel better when they're feeling down, maybe they'll have the energy to help others, who'll then help others, and help make the world just that much brighter! Even if the action is unrelated to what I personally am doing, it'd still be a beautiful and amazing thing! If me sharing my crochet projects inspires someone else to take up leatherworking or sculpting or woodworking, that's still more creative energy in the world! If me talking about native wildflowers burgeons an interest in native trees, or grasses, or hell even something like green building design or community planning somehow, that's someone developing an entirely different skillset than I could ever imagine, which can be used to do amazing things!

I'm not gonna pretend like its going to be all sunshine and rainbows from here on out! We're still talking about the person who literally refused to leave the house yesterday because she was so anxious something might happen, after all. But if I'm given a choice between wallowing in misery and anxiety and despair, or doing anything I can--even the smallest things--to make things a little bit better and brighter for those around me? I know what my choice is.

[shadamyheadcanons]

Thoughts on Shadouge? I used to ship it casually years ago just because I was looking at possibilities of a love interest for Shadow which I didn't consider for a long time, but it quickly lost its appeal for me. I know you said you don't think it works which I agree with and I'm curious about your reasoning.

Explanation under the cut. There’s nothing too negative, but I always feel bad when these wind up in tags and searches for the ship name.

To start, I will say that it doesn’t feel “wrong” to me like most Shadow ships do. I get where shadouge fans are coming from, and I’ve never met a shadouge shipper who was pushy or unpleasant about it. That’s rare in fandoms. I like how low-key they are. :)

As for the ship itself, I don’t buy it because they’re just so solidly best friends. I’ve never seen anything that I’d call romantic between them.

For Shadow, I see two important (living) women in his life right now:

One is a consistent, reliable rock who’s always going to support him and back him up because of who he is.

The other is a light, a beacon who guides him and inspires him to be the best version of himself he can be.

To me, one of those looks like a best friend, and the other looks like a love interest. He needs both, but in my opinion, it’s clear which one’s which. He’s level-headed around Rouge, and while he probably trusts her more than anyone, he looks at her the same way he looks at everyone else. Heck, he looks at her the same way he looks at Omega. I can’t imagine Rouge successfully convincing him to dress up for a murder mystery birthday party or getting him to go to a silly pop concert the way a certain pink hedgehog can, nor can I see her trying to in the first place; Amy’s the only one who can pull him out of his comfort zone like that. The most Rouge does is convince him to go to Sonic’s birthday party, and even then, she has to bribe him. Rouge’s flirtation just bounces off of Shadow, too. He doesn’t have a weak point for her. Looking at Shadow’s behavior, I think he has a soft spot for cute girls, and Rouge isn’t cute.

As for Rouge herself, she’ll support Shadow to hell and back, but we know what love looks like in her eyes. I’m not getting out of bed until she looks at someone else like this:

Rouge and Shadow are too similar in a particular way. They’re both Machiavellian, willing to go to questionable lengths to get the job done. The same goes for Omega. It’s what makes them such a good team, but a good teammate isn’t the same as a love interest. Knuckles won her over by doing the right thing and saving her life even though he had every reason not to.

I actually have some headcanons about Rouge’s past that feed into this concept. I believe Rouge grew up poor and didn’t have too many people she could trust. She had to steal for her own survival, and she learned to cling to whatever wealth she could find. She keeps a lot of secrets to this day because it’s safer. She learned the hard way that no one can hurt her if she won’t let them in.

In time, Rouge met one guy who was on her wavelength who she knew she could trust, and she met another who swept her off her feet, whose altruism upended her pessimistic outlook of how people are.

One of those looks like a best friend, and the other looks like a love interest. She needs both, but it’s clear to me which one’s which.

And of course there’s the matter of commitment. Rouge can’t stay grounded, so to speak, in the kind of stable relationship that would do Shadow a world of good. She’d rather flit around and tease everyone in sight, delighting in all the blushes she can bring out; in her own way, she likes cuteness, too. Amy, meanwhile, prefers to cling to one person, sharing the same steady devotion Shadow could provide in turn. She’s sunshine incarnate. He needs that.

Thanks for the ask!

[stubz]

warning - bad guy wants to kill people and threatens to eat them + ship invasion

General Morbius was one an accomplished soldier. He was ruthless to his enemies, loyal to those who appreciated him, and willing to do anything. He was made for war. The coalition was not, it was made for peace and thus the general was rarely if ever used.

He had been fine with this...until he rejected as captain of the main ship. A tighalax by the name of Nox was chosen instead. Nox was not ruthless, was too hesitant to make the hard decisions, was a runt.

Morbius would not let a runt replace him.

That's when he met Sine Macula, a ruler who stood for everything the coalition did but was not afraid of getting their hands dirty to do so. Morbius respects that and so he fed him information. He got away with this for several months until found out...but not caught. There was not enough proof to charge him with treason and so he laid low. His schedule became tight and rigid, work then straight home. No dawdling or talking...well not to anyone he thought were a real threat.

The human chef from the west side cafeteria, the human who was head of sanitation, the human from the youngling centre, these were the only ones he talked to. They were the only one's who understood him and listened to him. At least that's what he thought.

He had a strange feeling about why the captain's first mate had reduced the amount of tails/watchers on him and so he did some digging. Oh how he longed to rip those filthy humans apart with his teeth...how he longed to watch the life leave their eyes as they gurgled out pleas through blood...

He let them into his home, he let them know of his thoughts and desires, he told them details and secrets, he let them meet his family-touch his family with those filthy dirty hands!!

He has calls to make.

.

The general cruelly smiles as he walks through the halls and sees his former allies escorted into the cargo bay, a temporary jail until they see who is worthy to join and who is to die.

His grin widens as he steps into the command center to see the Captain wrestled to the ground along with the first mate. A muzzle is shoved into the tighalax's mouth. A shock collar is strapped around the petronlic's neck. How lovely.

Growls and curses follow him as he turns around to continue to enjoy the show. He sees dozens of his new soldiers subdue an orc with tasers and guns loaded with rubber bullets. He hopes Fenrir will see his side and join, the orc will be a wonderful soldier.

Disgust crosses his face as he sees the ships tech supports throuple make the most offensive and crude gestures to him as they're dragged to the cargo bay. How Quip ended up Glip and Kal he'll never know.

..

"So we have everyone?"

"Not yet General, we're missing 30."

"30? How was I not made aware of 30 missing crew members??" he sneers grabbing the soldier by the shoulder.

"They weren't high priority-!"

"Well they are now since you lost them! Who did you lose?!"

"Th-the youngling centre sir!"

"...the youngling centre?" he whispers.

"Y-yes, sir."

"...you lost the youngling centre? The very centre run by the disgusting humans who betrayed me?"

"Well find them right away sir-!"

"You have two hours or I'll be using your bones as the broth for my diner tonight." he releases the soldier who sprints away to his team.

...

Kim knew she was going to die if they were found. The younglings would be most likely safe, Max too if he didn't fight back, but her? She would be killed.

When Captain asked her to spy on Morbius she did so without really thinking of the danger. She wasn't going anywhere dangerous, she would just talk to him whenever she him in the ship. Just talking, easy!

But then he actually opened up to her and that's when she realized how dangerous he actually was. The 'jokes', the wishes, the cracks that let her see who he really was...it scared her. And she couldn't do anything but grit her teeth and smile.

She was still safe though. They never met off the ship. She rarely actually talked about herself, he did all the talking, she never let anything slip.

But Morbius had still found out. He had found out, played along, and now the ship has been taken over.

They've done this before, her and Max, and therefore already had a plan. Lock the door, close the blinds, turn off the lights, hide in the supply room in the secret room and block the door. No one make a sound.

Hours pass and they do their best to keep the children quiet. Do their best to take their minds off the shouts, blasts, and shots fired with whispered stories and reassurances.

By the fifth hour, she knows because Max counted to keep himself calm, all is quiet. Kim hates it. She wants to leave, she can't breathe, her heart is too loud, she-

The tiny door opens.

Standing there before the group of 30 is a youngling. Standing between them and their fate is Morando. The General's son.

The youngling's mouth opens.

....

"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?!" Morbius roars, sirens blaring throughout the ship nearly drowning out his voice.

"Sir! There is a fire in the youngling centre!" a soldier screams directing his comrades towards the fire.

"AND WHY ARE YOU PUTTING IT OUT?! WE'RE BLOWING THIS SHIP UP THE SECOND WE LEAVE!!"

"Your son is there sir!"

General Morbius is many things. A killer, a soldier, a liar, a betrayer, but in that moment he was only a father. And fathers' love their children.

"Kill the one who was supposed to watch him. All available soldiers with me. If my son dies I will skin you all and eat you whilst you still breathe."

General Morbius loves his child and if his child dies he will kill everyone and anyone who contributed to it.

.....

General Morbius loves his child. Morbius loves his child. He would kill for him. Die for him. And in this case forgive him.

The fire was a diversion. His son was not in any danger. His son was tricked by the disgusting humans.

Morando had found them while looking in the supply room for a toy to play with after having given his escort the slip. His son had intended to alert him, call for reinforcements. But the humans had used their silver tongues to trick him.

One last meal they said. Humans were given one last meal before defeat, before death. Morando had seen no issue with this, he respected Kim and Max, they had given him much fun and amusement.

The final meal involved fire but since the centre's kitchen was partially destroyed they asked to use Fure, a fyreian. Morando agreed once again.

They cooked, involving all the younglings, even Morando. They sat down together and ate, inviting Morando, giving him his own plate. Kim begged him to let her tell one last tale before capture, he allowed.

The comradery, a warm meal, a tale catering towards his son's taste...the humans were not as foolish nor soft as he had thought.

They lulled the youngling into a false sense of security before capturing him. Tying him up, his son. Gagging him, his child. Carrying him like a sack over their shoulder, his flesh and blood. Setting the fire and leaving Morando's shawl just outside the door to make it look like he was in there, trapped, burning...a brilliant plan.

With how little soldiers there were in the cargo bay they managed to sneak in and free their crew mates. How the orcs, rextalians, tighalaxes, and other apex species fought.

It was a swift defeat. They had taken control of the ship whilst he was distracted by the fire. They had the armory now. They had called in reinforcements. They had Morando. What else could he do but surrender?

Humans are so much crueler than others give them credit for. A species who have mastered trickery to such a degree that younglings are not even safe from them.

[puppppppppy]

i feel like im not making any sense but does anyone else feel like there are stories that let u run with them and ones that spell everything out for you

[dykedvonte]

I hate the stretch lines in the front of Curly's uniform because that means the devs rushed to make a model in like a month or so and thought "They gotta at least know he has huge knockers, gotta know he's got back pain." Cause like what is the thematic importance of his tits having overhang?

What responsibility is that representing? Breast reduction? It shows an inherent greed in his character due to the excess and heshouldletmeholdone and that he clearly is blinded cause if he tries to look down his damn ladder all he's seeing is his own cleavage.

[artemx746]

Do people not realise that a person doesn't suddenly gain full maturity and knowledge of everything when they turn 18?

[sysig]

Size difference.png (Patreon)

[jvzebel-x]

"only other Hawaiians ever make me feel not Hawaiian enough--"

"Hawaiians from the islands are racist--"

"Hawaiians from the mainland have REAL aloha spirit everyone up here is just Hawaiian, no matter how much blood you got--"

okay but you understand that every single portion of what you just said is rooted in colonialism&the attempted murder of our people+culture, right. like you GET why kānaka from the islands have to be so protective of things as they are on the frontlines watching both our culture&our land get chunked for the proft of those who have no right to any of it, right. like you KNOW that hawaiian homelands requires a 50% blood quota to even get on the list&a 25% quota from anyone you leave that land to post mortem, &that the list is STILL decades long because the vast majority of the homeless kānaka back home MEET that requirement, right-- that the homeless demographic in the islands has the largest percentage of us left in one grouping in the world&it isn't surprising the families who maintained a higher blood percentage are also too poor to leave the islands even while dying on the streets, right. like you are CAPABLE of conceptualizing what all of that would do when confronted with someone from the diaspora who "doesn't understand why the aloha spirit is dead in the islands". right. like you can SEE&HEAR how it sounds when you say the nonhawaiian people&legacy of the colonizers that tried to obliterate your ancestors are the only ones who make you feel hawaiian now that they as a group have successfully taken up the primary position on what makes a good hawaiian. right. like you KNOW why there's even a push to properly exemplify kānaka maoli after literally hundreds of years of our people having to save us from cultural obliteration, &that the push to be a "real hawaiian" definitely didn't start with us, the people who you are trying to reconnect to&identify with. right.

like, i get feeling like the expectations are too high-- there isn't any right way to be kānaka, &there are most definitely kānaka who are shitty about that-- but coming back with, "BUT THE HAOLES VALIDATE MY HAWAIIAN-NESS" is just fucking WILD, like i don't know how to explain to you the haoles thinking they have a right to validate fucking anything in relation to us&our struggle&our people is just...

blood doesn't matter, but obviously not in the way you seem to think, lmao.

[shadesofmauve]

I want to step away from the art-vs-artist side of the Gaiman issue for a bit, and talk about, well, the rest of it. Because those emotions you're feeling would be the same without the art; the art just adds another layer.

Source: I worked with a guy who turned out to be heavily involved in an international, multi-state sex-slavery/trafficking ring.

He was really nice.

Yeah.

It hits like a dumptruck of shit. You don't feel stable in your world anymore. How could someone you interacted with, liked, also be a truly horrible person? How could your judgement be that bad? How can real people, not stylized cartoon bogeymen, be actually doing this shit?

You have to sit with the fact that you couldn't, or probably couldn't, have known. You should have no guilt as part of this horror — but guilt is almost certainly part of that mess you're feeling, because our brains do this associative thing, and somehow "I liked [the version of] the guy [that I knew]", or his creations, becomes "I made a horrible mistake and should feel guilty."

You didn't, loves, you didn't.

We're human, and we can only go by the information we have. And the information we have is only the smallest glimpse into someone else's life.

I didn't work closely with the guy I knew at work, but we chatted. He wasn't just nice; he was one of the only people outside my tiny department who seemed genuinely nice in a workplace that was rapidly becoming incredibly toxic. He loaned me a bike trainer. Occasionally he'd see me at the bus stop and give me a lift home.

Yup. I was a young woman in my twenties and rode in this guy's car. More than once.

When I tell this story that part usually makes people gasp. "You must feel so scared about what could have happened to you!" "You're so lucky nothing happened!"

No, that's not how it worked. I was never in danger. This guy targeted Korean women with little-to-no English who were coerced and powerless. A white, fluent, US citizen coworker wasn't a potential victim. I got to be a person, not prey.

Y'know that little warning bell that goes off, when you're around someone who might be a danger to you? That animal sense that says "Something is off here, watch out"?

Yeah, that doesn't ping if the preferred prey isn't around.

That's what rattled me the most about this. I liked to think of myself as willing to stand up for people with less power than me. I worked with Japanese exchange students in college and put myself bodily between them and creeps, and I sure as hell got that little alarm when some asian-schoolgirl fetishist schmoozed on them. But we were all there.

I had to learn that the alarm won't go off when the hunter isn't hunting. That it's not the solid indicator I might've thought it was. That sometimes this is what the privilege of not being prey does; it completely masks your ability to detect the horrors that are going on.

A lot of people point out that 'people like that' have amazing charisma and ability to lie and manipulate, and that's true. Anyone who's gotten away with this shit for decades is going to be way smoother than the pathetic little hangers-on I dealt with in university. But it's not just that. I seriously, deeply believe that he saw me as a person, and he did not extend personhood to his victims. We didn't have a fake coworker relationship. We had a real one. And just like I don't know the ins-and-outs of most of my coworkers lives, I had no idea that what he did on his down time was perpetrate horrors.

I know this is getting off the topic, but it's so very important. Especially as a message to cis guys: please understand that you won't recognize a creep the way you might think you will. If you're not the preferred prey, the hind-brain alarm won't go off. You have to listen to victims, not your gut feeling that the person seems perfectly nice and normal. It doesn't mean there's never a false accusation, but face the fact that it's usually real, and you don't have enough information to say otherwise.

So, yeah. It fucking sucks. Writing about this twists my insides into tense knots, and it was almost a decade ago. I was never in danger. No one I knew was hurt!

Just countless, powerless women, horrifically abused by someone who was nice to me.

You don't trust your own judgement quite the same way, after. And as utterly shitty as it is, as twisted up and unstead-in-the-world as I felt the day I found out — I don't actually think that's a bad thing.

I think we all need to question our own judgement. It makes us better people.

I don't see villains around every corner just because I knew one, once. But I do own the fact that I can't know, really know, about anyone except those closest to me. They have their own full lives. They'll go from the pinnacles of kindness to the depths of depravity — and I won't know.

It's not a failing. It's just being human. Something to remember before you slap labels on people, before you condemn them or idolize them. Think about how much you can't know, and how flawed our judgement always is.

Grieve for victims, and the feeling of betrayal. But maybe let yourself off the hook, and be a bit slower to skewer others on it.