#in a country that like half us us don’t live in have never been to and potentially never will.

[cicaklah]

get ready for my thoughts on yaoi UBI

So I’ve kvetched about UBI in the tags for long enough someone finally asked me what I was going on about so here we go! 

I will start with some caveats: 

I am British, and so I can only speak about the British specifics.

I have for the past twelve years worked as a professional health economist, and health economics is based on social welfare theory (specifically growing out of Arrow’s work in the 1960s and Sen’s work in the 80s/90s). I literally could talk forever about this, but I won’t. If you want to know more, read the pretty good wikipedia article on welfare economics.

But fundamental to welfare economics is two things: if we make a great big change, do the benefits outweigh the costs? And does the change make a fundamental change for good? (aka cost-benefit analysis and pareto efficiency).

The other thing you need to know about me is that I don’t like activists very much, because they never have to show their working, and my entire professional life is showing my working, and critiquing other people’s working. We all have ideas mate, show me the plan! I love a plan! and this isn't coming from anything but personal experience; I have been to talks by UBI activists before, including ones by economists, but I have never had the case made to me that UBI would be either cost-beneficial OR approach pareto efficient. In fact, it usually reminds me of arguments that are based on some other imaginary world, and then I get so annoyed I want to scream. 

In the early 2010s when I was first starting working as an economist, I was asked to build a model to see whether switching a disability benefit from government administered to individual administration would be cost-effective. Essentially, if you were newly in a wheelchair and you needed a ramp building up to your house, would it be better for the government to organise a contractor, or for you to be given a cash transfer and organise it yourself? The answer was that it wasn’t, but anyone who has ever had to hire a builder could have told you that, and the government didn’t have to pay my firm £30,000 to make that decision. But that is what UBI essentially is; a cash transfer where you get cash and the government gets to enjoy less responsibility.

There are 37.5 million people of working age in England. (Nearly) every single working person gets what's called a tax free allowance, where the government doesn’t claim income tax on the first £12,570. (Once you make over £120k, your allowance starts to decrease, and you lose it entirely at I think £150k)

Let’s assume that instead of just not claiming tax on this amount, the government switched to making that £12,570 your UBI. That is £471,375,000,000 just for England - just under half a trillion pounds. In cash, or nearest as in our modern economy. And not one off - Every year. 

Okay, let's say that the country does have a spare half a trillion a year (in cash) lying around. What is the benefit to switching from tax free allowance to UBI? Well, let's assume that no one stops working, so there would be the tax receipts from the 20% income tax on the £12,570, and that’s just a shade under £100 million. Not bad.

But if you’ve seen a UBI post, you will know that people like the idea because they will be able to work less. Which probably means that UBI will need to be paid for in some other way. Perhaps by cutting existing benefits. The universal credit cost is around £100 billion. So we’re still £300 billion short, and honestly, you wouldn’t cut all of universal credit anyway, probably only the unemployment benefits, but I’m not digging into the maths on that tonight. 

But, look, I am sympathetic. I am a welfarist. I genuinely believe that the economy is not just money, that welfare is happiness, it is utility, it is all the stuff that makes life worth living, and it is the responsibility of the government to maximise the welfare/happiness/utility/quality of life of the country through efficient use of taxation and other sources of money. So people give the government money and it spends it on goods and services and then people get utility, and then they spend their own money to get more utility, and ultimately we can gain intangible things that are incredibly valuable. 

But the problem is that cash is cash, cold and hard and very real. I don’t know how unlimited spare time translates into half a trillion real pound coins. I wouldn’t know how to build a model that complex and uncertain, especially as this all assumes that you can live on 12k a year, and that whatever replaces progressive taxation is equally progressive. I haven’t even touched on how having a convoluted welfare state insures it somewhat against being entirely destroyed after a change in political opinions, aka what I call the daily mail test. You think the narrative about people on welfare is bad now? But also, how would you deal with people who didn’t manage their UBI money well? What happens if there is a personal crisis?

The more I look at it, the more the existing system is actually remarkably good value for money. Individualism is expensive. Collective decision making and spending is just cheaper. 

Ultimately I don’t see the additional benefit of UBI, requiring a pie in the sky change, when it is far, far, far more cost effective to strengthen the existing regime across the board; taxation law, social safety net, childcare, working laws, education and health - all systems that are already in place, and have a thousand times higher likelihood to be pareto optimal and cost effective than trying to find half a trillion pounds of cash round the back of the sofa, while torching 150 years of progress so middle class people can write their book without having to have a job. If I was conspiracy minded I would say that UBI feels like a psy-op, trying to shut down old fashioned progress in favour of ripping it all out and starting again.

Ultimately, that is my real annoyance. It is far, far, far cheaper for the government to provide you with your new ramp for your house, and that is done through politics, but not fun moonshot politics, the hard shit that isn’t sexy.

[entropyvoid]

I don’t think I can even remember seeing one singular post about antisemitism since 10/7 (and I’ve seen a lot) that wasn’t met with outright doubt (“has this actually happened to anyone?”), suspicion (“weird that OP hasn’t said anything about X in this post that isn’t about X, must secretly mean something about what they think that they’re not telling us, and it must be bad” or attempts at moral slander to delegitimize whatever incident the person was talking about (…as if OP being a shitbag in whatever way suits your fancy would make the antisemitism okay? …Do you scream racial slurs at transphobes and the like too? Do you think bigotry stops being bigotry or becomes okay if a person “deserves” it? Do you think bigotry can be earned?)

And if the thing being talked about is something like… a worldwide problem tons of Jews all over have been dealing with and talking to each other about, there’s always someone who asks the OP for the burden of proof, when it’s either an easily google-able thing, (from synagogue shootings, to magen davids being banned at pride events and general feelings of being unwelcome from queer Jews, to the hate-crime rape of a 12 year old, to harassment of Jews from college protestors) or in the most annoying cases, said proof/example is sometimes even just sitting in the comments of the same damn post for any old idiot to see with their eyes.

…Do other minority groups normally get this level of straight up disbelief over our experiences from the very people who claim to stand against the kinds of things we���ve experienced and are experiencing, or do people just make a special exception for us?

[sgt-tombstone]

au where Johnny never joined the military (his knee got fucked up before he could and they wouldn’t let him enlist) but it’s okay because that means he got to go to college and study engineering, which is the closest he could get to being a civilian demolitions expert

Anyway, the city his college is in has an army base nearby, which means that every dating app he opens is flooded with army boys looking to marry the first person who so much as looks at them the right way. Johnny’s never been relationship-oriented; he likes hookups too much to settle down like that, but he loves scrolling through to drool over all of the gym pictures

And then one catches his eye. Simon. He doesn’t show his face on his profile, but his muscles more than make up for it. His appearance, though, isn’t what Johnny is most interested in, because his bio says…

Anyone interested in committing marriage fraud?

And that’s… something.

So of course Johnny swipes. He doesn’t expect to match, because Simon looks like a Greek God, and he almost throws his phone across the room when the little heart appears, telling him that he and Simon have both swiped on each other. Which means that Simon swiped on him first. It’s a heady feeling, but he’s not really sure why.

John: marriage fraud?

It’s not his strongest first message, but sue him, he’s curious.

Simon: I’m not interested in a relationship or even sex, but I have a very vested interest in being able to move off base

John: so, what? we get married and then…?

Simon: we don’t have to live together or even like each other. You can finish your studies, get the tax benefits, and live your life as you choose while I get to move off base and maintain my privacy

Honestly, it sounds like a win/win to Johnny. He’s not struggling financially per se, but being able to live exactly as he is while also gleaning tax benefits is… an attractive choice.

John: and if I meet someone else that I’m serious about?

Simon: I have no qualms about an uncontested divorce

John: let’s meet up for lunch and discuss the details

———

Lunch is a simple affair, just a local restaurant, frequented by students and soldiers alike, so they both fit in well. Simon is unfairly attractive, even if he only reveals the bottom half of his face to eat or drink. He’s massive and blond and his eyes do something to Johnny’s insides that he can’t bring himself to dissect further. They chat over their food, sharing details about themselves. Johnny shares more than Simon, and he has a hunch that that’s on purpose, but he doesn’t mind. They click instantly, and Johnny can tell that Simon is taken aback by that. It’s sweet, almost, the way that such a large military man is floundering in the face of genuine human connection. After they’ve finished, they turn to business.

With a quiet, deep voice, Simon lays out his entire plan, and Johnny is fully on board. He’s ready to sign the papers today, but they legally have to wait a month.

It’s the longest month of Johnny’s life.

They text constantly, or as constantly as they can. Sometimes Johnny feels inordinately young and sometimes very inferior; while he’s talking Simon’s ear off about some explosive compound used in building demolitions, Simon is off… doing god knows what, god knows where, serving the country. But Simon always listens, always sounds engaged over the phone when they call, always has follow-up questions that show he’s actually interested. And while Simon can’t talk much about his work, he can talk about details. Small stuff; the awful food, the hot dust where he’s stationed, the day-to-day activities that don’t give away too much. Johnny learns that he’s a lieutenant, a sniper (though that’s more through context clues than anything else), that he wears a mask all the time to protect himself, that he doesn’t like scrambled eggs (or at least, not military scrambled eggs), that he has a very complex skincare routine, that he respects the hell out of his captain. That he’s a good man, or tries to be. That he’s a sweetheart, deep down, despite trying to hide it.

They eventually get married, down at the courthouse, with Simon’s captain, Price, and Johnny’s best mate, Kyle, as witnesses.

And then life goes on. Johnny continues his studies, continues going to parties and hooking up with people every weekend, continues living his life. He assumes that Simon does the same. They keep in contact, for the most part, except when Simon’s in the field and he can’t have his phone, but he always brings back little inconsequential stories when he returns. It’s nice, in a way. They’d never exchanged rings, but sometimes Johnny wishes they had, just so he had something tangible to tie him to his husband.

I’m not sure how it would end, though…

Maybe it would be Sweet Home Alabama style, where Johnny finds someone that he thinks he loves and has to get Simon to sign the divorce papers, only to realize at the last minute that he really doesn’t want to, that he’s been in love with Simon all along

Maybe Simon gets medically discharged and ends up moving in with Johnny, where they both dance around their feelings for each other, despite already being married

Maybe they just… realize one day, that they’ve slowly but surely fallen in love with each other over the years and suddenly, nothing else matters because they’ve got a lot of lost time to make up for

[wwandaslover]

STRANGERS | W.M

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x F! Reader

Warnings: A bit angsty, swearing, fighting, short little fic bc I’ve been gone too long

Summary: Wanda’s trying to get her boys back and Doctor Strange comes to you for help, trying to get you to kill your ex wife. Wanda’s not happy that you’re in the way.

You had been living your life as peacefully as you could ever since Thanos. You quit using magic, you moved across the country to Oregon. It was lonely.. but it was calm. You appreciated no longer having to put yourself under such immense stress, no longer fighting people and aliens, no longer worrying about stupid diets, no longer constantly feeling like you were going to die. It was amazing to be alone despite how boring it was.

You had heard about Westview from the news not long after moving to Oregon, and though it worried you to hear that Wanda was getting to such a horrible point, you couldn’t get involved and part of you didn’t want to. You and Wanda did not end on good terms, Wanda broke your heart. You were staying out of all of that shit, you were finally getting your well deserved lull.

It grew harder to not try and help Wanda the more you heard about her, you were constantly worrying about her wellbeing. Then to your luck, Doctor Strange showed up at your doorstep asking for help and disrupting your peace, telling you he had gone to Wanda and found out she’d been corrupted by the Darkhold, trying to kill America Chavez to go to her sons in another universe. It took him very little time to convince you to help.

He needed your help since you were one of the most powerful magic wielders, yet still not anywhere near Wanda’s level. Despite being stronger than you, Wanda couldn’t absorb your magic when used on her or it could kill her, you were a Green Witch. You wielded earthly magic while Wanda wielded chaos magic, and Strange wanted you to trick her into trying to absorb your magic.

You refused to kill the woman you had loved so dearly, instead you promised to help her. You wanted her to be happy and no longer hurt so much, despite how much you hated her for what she did to you.

+

Standing at Kamar Taj, seeing the dead bodies of sorcerers lying on the ground after Wanda used her magic to kill them all, seeing her walk over them like nothing.. it hurt you to see her now a shell of the woman she once was. Wanda stared at you with an icy glare as she stepped closer, annoyed that you were blocking her path to America.

Wanda laughed dryly “Of course, you’re the one they bring to stop me.”

You took a deep breath, swallowing thickly. Part of you wanted to hug her and the other wanted to punch her as hard as possible. You spoke calmly, “Wanda, I’m here to help you end this madness. I don’t want to fight you.”

Wanda hummed “I’m sure you don’t. You’d rather not die, I’m sure.”

You scoffed softly “I doubt you want to either.”

Wanda sighed in annoyance “You’re right, what I want is my sons. Now get out of my way.” She began stepping closer and you used your powers to push her back.

Wanda snarled and threw blasts of energy at you which you managed to dodge by a hair. Wanda lunged at you and grabbed you by the throat, squeezing your airways shut. You gasped and coughed, gripping her wrist, your eyes wide and full of shock. You kicked her harshly and Wanda instinctively let go.

Wanda stumbled back and shouted at you, “You little bitch, get out of my way!”

You coughed into your arm, glaring at her. Once your throat hurt a little less you shouted back, your voice slightly hoarse “Fuck you! You’re the one acting like a bitch!”

Wanda scoffed “You sound like a petulant child.”

You rolled your eyes at that, annoyed by Wanda’s comments “I have no idea how I put up with you for half a decade.”

Wanda raised a brow “You never complained about me when we were together, so I must’ve been alright.” Wanda pushed you aside and began walking inside the temple.

You caught her wrist and tried to pull her back but it didn’t quite work how you wanted it to, instead she simply dragged you along with her. After a few seconds Wanda looked back at you in annoyance. “Wh- are you seriously not going to let go of me? You know I’m just going to keep dragging you with me.”

You shrugged and tightened your grip on her wrist, trying to plant your feet on the ground but they simply slid over the stones as she dragged you. You got irritated by how your efforts fell flat, so you opted for tackling her. The two of you fell together and Wanda shouted, looking up at you “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you held her down and Wanda was distraught by the sweet sound. It had been a long time since you laughed like that around her. Wanda swallowed thickly and tried to speak angrily, but sounded more nervous than anything, “Quit laughing! What’s so funny?”

You shook your head, still laughing softly at the situation. “This is all so stupid..”

Wanda’s jaw clenched and she quickly became angry again, mad that you had called it all stupid when she was struggling “I’m trying to get my sons back, how is that stupid?”

You furrowed your eyebrows, your laughter dying out. “I’m not saying that you losing your kids is stupid, I’m saying us fighting is stupid. I also think you’re stupid for believing this’ll work, for believing those boys would just accept you as their mother when they already have one. I mean seriously, you can’t truly believe that they’ll immediately love you, or ever love you for that matter. This won’t go your way.”

Wanda roughly pushed you off and stood up, glaring down at you “Stay out of my way. I don’t want to hurt you.” She began walking away but you used your powers to throw her back to the ground, walking over to her.

“You are not killing that innocent girl! You have no right! She’s just a child, she doesn’t deserve to die, or to go through any of this! Think of how terrified she is!” You yelled at her, angered by her lack of humanity and remorse.

“I need my boys, you don’t understand! You aren’t going to stop me!” Wanda sat up and yelled back, her eyes tearing up. She didn’t want to kill anyone, or hurt anyone.. she just needed her boys.

You stared down at her, wide eyed and in disbelief of how she was acting. “Wanda, you can still have a family in this universe!”

Wanda scoffed and stood up, stepping closer to you “And how on earth would I do that? I lost Vision, I lost my boys, I lost everything!”

Your heart ached when Wanda brought up Vision but not you. You were her first love, and apparently the least important. You ignored your own feelings and spoke, “There’s still someone out there in the world for you, somebody you can love and have a family with.”

Wanda shook her head, wiping away her tears away with a scoff. “I don’t want anybody else, I don’t want other children. I can’t just replace Vision and my boys.”

God, you wanted to strangle her for acting like this. You wanted to be understanding, but she was making it so much harder than it needed to be.

You snapped at her “I’m trying to help you find happiness somewhere in this universe instead of giving up on a life here and ruining a different version of yourself’s life, so quit acting like a fucking idiot!”

Wanda stared at you with widened eyes, surprised that you had actually gotten angry at her. You were usually not the type to get mad, but when you did it was always hard to ignore.

Wanda muttered “Calm down, there’s no need to get so-“

You cut her off by yelling at her “You’re so goddamn selfish! You are condescending, controlling, possessive, overly protective, you are so infuriating and yet here I am trying to help you all because I care about you, and I still love you, but I also fucking hate you at the same time!”

Wanda sputtered slightly, her eyes still wide. Her expression was a mix of concern and shock, concerned because you were so upset, and shocked by what you had just said. You still loved her after four years of being apart.

“Are you serious?” Wanda scoffed. It had been years, you had to be over her. She didn’t want you to keep loving her, especially not after what she had done both to you and other people. She wasn’t a good person and you were.

You scoffed back, mocking her “Yes, obviously, I’m being serious. Can you quit being such a dick now?”

Wanda hated that you were still in love with her, she wanted you to move on and she wanted to move on as well. No matter how much she loved Vision he couldn’t fill the hole in her heart from leaving you. She didn’t feel worthy of your love, or your help, not after what she did. How she left you so heartbroken and then she just went and got together with Vision. She felt horrible for what she had done to you back then, and she felt horrible for leaving you again now, knowing she should immediately go back to you and mend your broken relationship, she could experience happiness for the first time in months, but she wouldn’t.

Wanda thought for a moment and decided to just ignore the whole situation, turning away and continuing to walk. “I’m going to get my boys back.” she muttered.

You watched her with now tearful eyes, your jaw clenched and your breathing turning shaky. You were done trying to help her. You shouted after her, “I’m going to finish this whether you come out dead or alive, Wanda!”

Wanda’s heart hurt from your words, but she kept walking. She still felt great love for you, but she needed Tommy and Billy. She needed them more than she needed anything else, even you. You knew that, and watching her disappear into the temple made your heart squeeze in your chest, you knew you had lost her but you weren’t going to give up on saving America from Wanda.

a decent amount of people have asked for part two and I kinda have an idea for part two, soo, go to my requests and ask to be put on the tag list, or ask in the comments.

[sunnie-angel]

Come Home Soon

jason todd x gn!reader

rating: general | wc: 780

inspired by this ask

Jason Todd’s never really gotten over the shock of having you in his life. He pinches himself sometimes, just to check, uncertain sometimes that this is all real. That the neat way you’ve inserted yourself into his life isn’t just an errant daydream too perfect to be true. 8 months it’s been and the butterflies in his stomach are still alive as ever.

Gotham’s been more…chaotic than usual these past few weeks. Arkham’s latest breakout has been a shit show he’d never like to repeat, thank you very much. Jason’s been half dead on his feet from all the extra patrols he’s been doing at the Bats’ requests, damage control spilling into the small hours of the morning. It’s almost a relief then, when you get invited on a road trip out of town. For a little while the constant fear that he won’t be there, that danger will come scratching at your door while he is caught unawares in a different part of the city, will be put to rest.

He is happy, then, to see you off. Presses kisses to your cheeks and reminds you to call when you arrive with a smile on his face. The relief lasts the length of time it takes for your car to disappear into traffic. It dawns on him then, that this will be the longest time you’ve spent apart since he had worked up the trembling courage to ask you out. The apartment feels hollow, without you as its living, breathing heart. There’s no music playing in the kitchen and the side table by the couch isn’t littered with your forgotten cups of tea. Half of your products are gone from the bathroom, empty holes littering the countertop. Jason doesn’t realize how much space you occupy in his life by simply existing until all of that emptiness is staring back at him.

He wonders just how far you’ve driven by now. If you’d had to stop for extra gas and if you’d chosen a sweet or savoury snack for the last half of the journey. He wonders if you have a road trip playlist or if you’d mind making one together. The two of you don’t go driving in a car often, no, Jason prefers the wind of his bike and the warmth of you at his back too much. But he thinks that he might like making exceptions for you.

It’s bittersweet, then, thinking of your life without him. You wouldn’t be half so good with using a taser as you are now. Wouldn’t know the combinations and routes for a dozen contingency plans. As he sits in that apartment so changed by your influence and pictures you winding down some country road, he thinks about the ways he’s shaped your life. Gotham’s just one city in the grand scheme of the world but every moment you’re in it, your life is at risk. Not just because of your love for him, but any stray bullet or dose of fear toxin would take you away just the same. There’s whole countries out in the world that he knows you’d love that aren’t all trying to kill you in gruesome and horrible ways. More, if you go without him.

The vibrations of his phone in his pocket shake him from his reverie. It’s your contact photo, the one you’d stolen his phone to take, that smiles up at him.

“Hiya, baby!” your voice is more cheerful than he’d expected. “We just got in for the night, you wouldn’t believe how bad traffic was getting out of the city. Actually wait, you remember that…”

He doesn’t remember the anecdote, but he appreciates the sounds of your voice washing over him. For the first time all day, he feels settled in his skin. The apartment doesn’t feel so empty with your voice filling it.

“Oh and Jason, if Mrs. Dudek down at the market is selling packzi this weekend could you pick some up?” It’s the offhanded nature of your request that cements in his mind that you’re coming back. That you’ve always been planning to come back. It soothes that little part of him that still wonders if all of this will dissolve like spun sugar on the tongue. That for all the troubles he’s brought to your door, you still choose to come home to him.

“Yeah,” he clears his throat and tries again. “Yeah, I’ll swing by and grab some if she’s there. No guarantee they’ll all still be in the box by the time you get back.”

“Get two boxes then, you pastry fiend.” you laugh, affection colouring your voice. “I miss you and I’ll be home soon.”

“I’ll be waiting,” he says simply.

[ravcnism]

HEY uhm.. i've been having this idea.. like imagine kenji sato x m!reader athlete as well? help, i just thought the dynamic would be cute. it could be a rival team on the baseball league or another sports. I just thought it would be cool!

STRIKEOUT. — KEN SATO x Male!Athlete READER

Summary: The Hiroshima Toyo Carp may have a new player in town, but his name is nowhere near unheard of. The prized star pitcher of The States takes the country by storm when he spontaneously shows up against the Yomiuri Giants. Ken Sato’s career is given a run for its money.

# # TAGS: Longform, Enemies to Lovers but like Still Enemies as Lovers, A LOT of Tension, Sports Anime-Level of Ridiculous, Star-Athlete!Male Reader, Author Doesn't Actually Know Anything About Baseball, Sort of a Slow Burn? No Beta We Die Like Onda

# # WARNINGS: Mild Violence, Mature Language, Eventual Smut if I’m Brave Enough, English is not My First Language, Around 2000 Words, Part One of ??

Night fell promptly upon the Sato residence. The sun had tucked itself into the sea and left a trail of gold in its warm, glistening wake. From afar, the ever-lively city of New Tokyo lit up street by street.

Beneath the water, in the basement, a newly-bathed Emi waddled towards her corner of the house; smelling of fresh sakura petals, and cuddling a half-crushed Nissan Skyline GT-R. Full from dinner, and satisfied by her shower, she felt the gentle arms of sleep coaxing her to a nap. With a squeaky yawn, and a stretch of her arm, she succumbed to its calls and laid on her spot on the ground. A very amused Hayao Sato came walking after her. “Silly girl. The bath and snack combo never fails to knock you out, huh?”

Kenji Sato, well-dressed for a night out, entered after. He was preoccupied by his sleeves, fingers fumbling to button them shut. “Remember, Dad. No videos after 10 pm. We can’t ruin her sleep schedule again.”

“Of course, Kenji.” His father waved him off with his cane. “You act as if I don’t know her routine like the back of my hand.”

“I’m just making sure.” He was fixing his hair, then, gelling it into place. His eyes narrowed at his own reflection, trying to make sure he wasn’t forgetting anything. “And of course you’ve got Mina to help.”

“Definitely, Ken.” As if on cue, the round hovering bot came floating in. “We have everything under control. You needn’t worry about us here.”

Professor Sato chuckled at his son, leaning on his good foot. “You seem to have a lot of nervous energy in you, Kenji.”

The batter sighed, tugging on his collar one last time. “I’m always nervous when I’m not playing.” Deciding he looked alright, Ken left his reflection alone. “No idea why. Might have something to do with my dislike towards things that I can’t control, but I’m not gonna get into that right now–” He shuffled about, searching frantically for his jacket. “Mina, where did I put my–?” An extended robot arm appeared from the floor and handed it to him. “Oh. Thanks.”

“Try to enjoy yourself anyway, Kenji.” Professor Sato had walked over to Emi, who was fast asleep, snoring slightly. He lifted a hand and rubbed her head. “I think it’s good that you go to these games even when you’re not scheduled. I can tell it lifts your team’s spirits.”

“Yeah, well, honestly I’m still trying to get used to it. The whole sportsmanship thing.” Ken sprayed his cologne on. He made a quick jog towards Emi and kissed her cheek. “Sleep tight, Sweetie.” He looked at his dad. With his motorcycle keys now in hand, he walked backwards to their glass elevator. “If anything happens, call me. You know the drill.”

“Yes, Ken,” replied Mina. “We do. Rest assured, there will not be a repeat of last time.”

“Right, right. Last time.” Kenji forced out a laugh. “Look, if she wakes up and I’m not home yet, try to get her to tire herself out. Load up a park. Throw some balls. But no flying outside, please? You know she gets carried away.”

“Understood.”

With a final glance, and a reluctant sigh, he stepped into the lift. “I’ll be back soon.” Leaving her 20-foot Kaiju-of-a-daughter never got any easier — no matter how many times he had gone and done it. He waved his family a quick goodbye, before disappearing from their line of sight.

His dad was right. It was good that he was going. The Giants had a game to win.

"Good evening sports fans! Ladies and gentlefolk, we welcome you to the highly anticipated matchup between the Hiroshima Toyo Carp and your Yomiuri Giants.”

The stadium was bright and buzzing with excitement. Ken was used to the energy, but he never grew tired of it. There was something almost magical about having this many people in a stadium together. Something electrifying about hearing their collective voices. Whether or not he was set to play, the crowd was what grounded him into focus. He adored their cheers, regardless of who it was directed to.

“We’ve got an intense start to the game so far, the home crowd doesn’t look too happy with Tateoka’s second strikeout.”

“How's it looking?” Ken appeared beside his teammate, Yuki, who was watching the game by the barriers.

“Bad. We're dying out there, Sato. Tateoka's our second batter. We're down one strikeout.”

Ken's brows knitted together, intrigued. He had gotten here a little late and missed a good chunk of the first inning. He had missed most of the commentary, too, so he was pretty much left in the dark. All he knew was that the home crowd didn't look too cheerful. And neither did Coach Shimura. ( Though technically, he couldn't remember a time when Shimura looked anything less than disappointed. ) Ken settled into his spot, nursing a canned soda.

The pitcher’s back was against him, his jersey name too far for him to read. He couldn't see who it was. Ken took notice of their form. Their figure. “Wait, who's throwing again?”

His teammate dropped a name so familiar it sent Ken choking on his drink.

“Fucking, who?” He dropped the name of a famous star-athlete. A name he saw on billboards, news reports, articles. A name so expensive it put his vintage cars to shame. A name with a strikeout rate so disgustingly high it had the best teams falling to their knees. A staggering 1.75 ERA. Almost zero walks. Your name, sent a shiver down Ken Sato’s spine. You, the Mets’ notorious Bullet, now a surprise player of the Toyo Carp.

He watched as you turned around. Your face came into view. You were frighteningly calm. The Giants’ batter was one strike away from an out. Kenji swallowed thickly. “When the hell did he get here?”

“Yeah. Apparently they traded him to Carp a week ago. Didn't get much buzz for some reason.” Yuki scoffed. “Think they covered it up? Element of surprise? It was a pretty big move.”

The fact that Kenji had never been put up against you before was sheer dumb luck. That's what he thought, anyway. Despite the fact that the both of you had been celebrities in The States, the seasons just never aligned well enough to get the both of you to play at the same park. But he hadn't dreamed of it. Who in their right mind would? Like a bullet from a gun, your pitches were unstoppable. You had a mutant-like control over the ball. There were studies on the physics of your technique. Even the best batters would miss your throws. And at that moment, as he watched his teammate strike himself out, Kenji wondered if he'd miss, too.

He wouldn't have to keep wondering. Understanding the weight of your presence, the Yomiuri Giants opted to bring in the calvary.

“Sato.” Ken flinched at Shimura’s voice. He looked over his shoulder, facing him. “Locker room. Get dressed — I'm calling you up.”

He laughed, nervously. “You sure that's legal, coach?” He wasn't scheduled to play today, and spontaneously entering a non-player into the field was only allowed upon certain circumstances. Like an injury, for example.

“Of course it is.” Shimura grumbled. “Tokuda just broke his arm.”

The mentioned Tokuda stood behind him, sipping on some soda, with his obviously not-broken arm. “You heard the man, Ken. I just broke my arm.”

Ken grimaced, heading for the door. “The press is going to love this…” Japan's finest batter, versus The States’ fastest pitcher. Oh, this would make the headlines for sure.

Kenji did as he was told. He walked into the locker room, then walked out in full-attire. The speakers crackled to life. There was a steady rise in the crowd’s demeanor. People were slowly piecing the situation together. The announcers were losing their minds. “And It looks like — oh my goodness, folks. I don't believe this. Ken Sato has been called up into the field!”

The stadium went alight. Ken walked into the park and wondered if the lights were a little brighter than usual. He was doing his stretches, rolling his shoulders. His bat was handed to him and he flipped it in his hand. He allowed the cheers to boost his energy, and perhaps a bit of his ego.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we might be witnessing baseball history tonight! Two of the opposing team’s star players have come face to face for the first time ever. And it's happening right here, right now.”

You met his eyes. Ken’s breath hitched. You were so… intense. He couldn't properly describe it. You watched him move into position like a lion stalking its prey.

“Will Sato stop the Toyo Carp’s brand new Bullet? Or will he walk out of this game bleeding?”

The trick was to look them in the eye. A pitcher was no different from a batter when it came to a game. They shared the same weight of responsibility. The only time a stadium is silent is when they're standing face to face. Like a duel. One of Ken’s techniques was staring them down and reminding them that he was a force to be reckoned with. He was Ken Sato, for crying out loud.

Unfortunately for him, you were unshaken. Which he would’ve been offended by, if he were younger and more immature. No matter, he had other things to look for. Like the cues. Each pitcher had their own cue; a sort of tell that told Ken what kind of throw they’d be going for. He didn’t hit those pitches out of pure luck. Contrary to popular belief, he was actually thinking these games through. There were a plethora of things to look at. A pitcher’s stance, their position, which hand they were using. In an easier game, Ken would be able to read these pitchers like an open book.

But if you were a book, then you would've been written in a different language. He could find no such cues. He didn’t really have anything to calculate. You were as unpredictable as you were quick. None of his usual techniques seemed to be working on you.

The last resort: keep your eye on the damn ball, and freakin’ swing.

You held your hand outward, fingers pointed at him. There was a kind of hunger in your eyes, an expression that made Ken’s heart skip a beat. Your focused glare made him feel as if a red dot had appeared on his forehead. Like you had marked him for prey. It felt… personal. Like it wasn’t a part of the game, and you were only pointing at him. A threat. A dare.

You pulled your pitching arm back. He swore he heard a gun cock. The stadium went quiet. The crowd held its breath. So did Ken. He tightened his grip on his bat. He waited, eagerly, for you to make your move. He was counting the milliseconds, watching you, anticipating your throw, waiting for you to shoot.

And you did.

Ken blinked, and the ball was gone from your hands. He released the breath he was holding through a disbelieved scoff. He turned, and the catcher had stumbled slightly, holding your ball. The crowd grew into disarray, a rising cacophony of cheers and boos. They just couldn’t believe it. Ken Sato not only missed your pitch, but wasn’t able to move at all. He couldn’t even swing. You were too fast. Too abrupt.The ball was a white blur, there a moment, then gone the next. It wasn’t an issue of the curve, nor the direction. It was just too fucking fast.

His teammates couldn’t believe their eyes. And neither did his coach. Ken craned his head to look at you. You stared back at him, stone-faced.

He took a breath to regain his composure, resuming his earlier stance. He would never admit it, but he was rattled. He was trying to understand how that throw was humanly possible. How he had somehow forgotten to move. He could do nothing more but stand haunted as he heard the resounding “strike one!” from the umpire. This wasn’t the first time he’d missed, but it was the first time he froze. It was a spectacle to all, and a moment of horror for his fans. Did the Unstoppable Ken Sato finally meet his match? Even if he did, he was determined not to lose a second time.

“Okay,” he whispered. He took a deep, focused breath, slightly shifting his stance. He kept his feet firm on the ground, bat at the ready. “Okay, Hotshot. Bring it on.”

You kept your eyes on him and him alone. You stared at him as if you were the only two people in the stadium. The crowd went silent once again. The Giants fans were desperate to give Sato the focus he so-terribly needed, but the Carp fans were just curious to see how the second pitch would go. The air was thick and heavy with tension.

Like before, you threw your hand out, fingers pointed at Ken. You drew your pitching arm back, like an archer, and there was that sound in his mind again. The cock of a gun. Ken waited. He counted you down. He was a hunter dressed in camo, waiting for a deer to move.

Then, for the first time since he’d seen you, your expression changed. You grinned at him.

Then you winked.

Shit.

You threw the ball. Ken swung.

But he missed.

The crowd erupted into chaos. There was an indistinguishable pandemonium of disdain and celebration. People screamed and jumped and waved their banners as high as they possibly could. A number of them had already entered a state of acceptance — the Giants would lose to a perfect game. No batter would ever get through the wall that was you. But a lot of them kept their faith in the ever-notorious Sato. He could hit the last shot. He could pull this off. He might have been struggling to match your speed, but he would figure it out. They believed in him like he was a god.

And at that moment, as Kenji heard the echoing “strike two!” he certainly felt the anger of one.

Did you just fucking wink? Did you seriously have the audacity to wink at him? Kenji took it personally. Who did you think you were? Though his lips spoke nothing of the foul words he wished so eagerly to shout, it was clear on his face that he wanted you gone. It was one thing to embarrass him with a fastball, but another to rub it in. He wouldn’t let that slide. He wouldn’t allow you to strike him out.

Yoshimura was gripping the barrier so tightly that his knuckles were turning white.“Eyes up, Sato!”

Kenji breathed. Through his nose, this time. He drew a long breath into his entire body and blew it out through his lips. He wouldn’t miss. He couldn’t miss. While he might have already taught himself the humility that came with losing, he hadn’t taught himself jackshit about losing to you.

“If looks could kill,” whispered Ami Wakita, the reporter who watched the game from the press booth. Typing into her laptop, she wrote: “There seems to be obvious tension on the field. Nothing new for Ken Sato, yet, significantly different. Japan’s star player has finally met his match. This game has been a long time coming.”

This was his last chance, and he wasn’t going to waste it. Kenji raised his bat, and narrowed his eyes. You weren’t blind to his added efforts, and smirked at him again. Oh, how it made his blood boil.

Point.

Pull.

Throw.

Swing.

This time, the ball made contact.

The crowd blew up once more, exhausting their lungs as they watched the ball fly across the field. Kenji had hit it. Kenji had managed to catch your bullet-of-a-pitch. He dropped his bat to the ground and ran for his life. Base to base, corner to corner. Kenji leapt across the field and jumped for home.

“Safe!”

The crowd went wild. He had heard stadiums cheer for him before, but he didn't think he had ever heard anything this loud. With a relieved laugh, Kenji got up from the ground, and finally caught his breath. His teammates ran to greet him, though they had only passed the first inning. With a round as intense as that one, they felt it was only right to celebrate a little early.

And then he looked at you. Your eyes met. You were smiling at him again. He didn't like the lack of concern on your face. He didn't like that you didn't seem challenged. And he especially didn't like the fact that he was out there playing for his life, while you seemed to have played for a weekend game at the park.

Kenji was glaring at you, as if he was burning holes into your head. You lifted a hand and threw him a casual salute, flicking two fingers towards his direction. Dammit, he thought. That wink really threw him off. Which it shouldn't have.

Unfortunately for him, the game was nowhere near the last time you'd interact.

And there'd be the after-party to boot.

[luvzshy]

Hey love, Could you do Billie x reader

Billie and the reader get into a huge fight because Billie is never home always to the studio or something leaving the reader at home to raise their kid by herself. Billie comes home one day and is upset because the house is a mess and dinner isn’t made and gets mad at the reader claiming that the reader never does anything. The fight gets so bad that the reader says that she should just take their kid and move back to her home country

Almost enough

Word Count: 1,800

Warnings: Intense arguments, high emotional tension, mentions of parenthood struggles, implied separation.

Y/N shifted their child’s weight on her hip, bouncing gently as she tried to calm them down. The living room was a mess—blocks scattered across the floor, a forgotten bottle rolling under the coffee table, and her own half-eaten lunch sitting cold on the counter. Exhaustion blurred the edges of her vision, the kind that had built up after months of sleepless nights and Billie’s constant absence.

The front door creaked open, and Billie stepped inside, her shoulders slumped from another long day. Y/N could tell the instant she glanced around the room that she wasn’t happy. Billie’s mouth pulled into a frown as she dropped her bag on the floor.

“What the hell, Y/N? The place is a wreck.” Her tone was sharp, tired, but it cut right through Y/N. “And there’s nothing for dinner? I’ve been at the studio all day, and I come back to… this?”

Y/N’s chest tightened, but she swallowed down her initial response, not wanting to wake their child who had just started to settle. “Billie, I didn’t have time to clean up or cook. Our child was being fussy, and I’ve been running around trying to keep things under control.”

The sting of her words made Y/N’s hands tremble. She shifted their child into the crib nearby, gently placing them down before turning back to Billie, her own frustration bubbling to the surface. “You think I’m just lounging around all day? That I’m doing nothing while you’re out there working? I’m raising our kid, Billie. Alone, most of the time. Do you even know how hard it is?”

Billie’s expression softened for a split second, but the tension in her shoulders returned just as quickly. “I know it’s tough, but I’m doing this for us. For you, for our future. You don’t have to worry about money because I’m busting my ass out there—”

Y/N’s voice rose, cutting through Billie’s words. “I don’t care about the money! I care that you’re never here. I care that I’m the one left to pick up the pieces every time you come home late, or miss another bedtime, or don’t show up for a doctor’s appointment because you’re stuck at the studio.” Her breath came in short, shaky bursts as the words poured out. “It’s like… it’s like you’re choosing the music over us, over me.”

Billie’s face hardened, and she took a step closer, her eyes flashing with anger. “That’s not fair, Y/N. You think this is easy for me? I’m working so our kid can have a good life, so we can have a future together. But it’s like no matter what I do, it’s never enough for you.”

Y/N’s vision blurred with tears she didn’t have the energy to wipe away. “No, Billie. It’s not about the future. It’s about right now. I’m drowning here, and you don’t even see it because you’re never home long enough to notice.”

Billie ran a hand through her hair, frustration evident in every movement. “What do you want me to do, then? Quit everything? Stay at home all day?”

Y/N shook her head, her voice cracking with exhaustion and hurt. “I want you to be here, to actually be present. Not just show up when it’s convenient. Our kid barely even knows you right now, Billie. And me? I feel like I’m fading into the background of your life.”

Silence fell between them, a tense, heavy quiet that seemed to fill every corner of the room. Billie’s jaw clenched as she struggled to find something to say, her hands balling into fists at her sides. Y/N could see the conflict in her eyes, the part of Billie that wanted to lash out and the part that knew Y/N wasn’t wrong.

Finally, Y/N broke the silence, her voice barely more than a whisper. “Maybe… maybe I should just take our child and go. Go back to my family, back home. At least there, I wouldn’t have to do this alone.”

Billie froze, her eyes widening as if she had been slapped. For a moment, she looked like she didn’t believe what she had heard. “You can’t be serious. You’d really just leave? Take our kid and leave me behind?”

Y/N’s shoulders sagged, the weight of her own words settling over her. “I don’t know, Billie. I don’t want to, but I can’t keep living like this. I can’t keep pretending that this is enough.”

Billie’s expression crumbled, her frustration giving way to a deep, gnawing fear. “Y/N, please. Don’t… don’t say that. I know I’ve been absent, I know I’ve messed up. But I’m doing my best, I swear. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to lose our family.”

Y/N felt a fresh wave of tears rise, but she blinked them back, shaking her head. “Your best isn’t enough if it means I’m here alone, Billie. I need more from you. We need more from you.”

Billie took a step closer, her voice desperate, breaking. “Then tell me how. Tell me what to do. I’ll make it right, Y/N, I promise. Just don’t leave. Don’t take our child away from me.”

Y/N closed her eyes, the exhaustion washing over her like a tide she couldn’t hold back. She didn’t know what the right answer was, didn’t know how to bridge the distance that had grown between them. But she could see the fear in Billie’s eyes, the pain that matched her own.

“I don’t have all the answers, Billie. But you have to show me that we’re worth fighting for. Because I can’t keep feeling like I’m in this by myself.”

Billie nodded slowly, tears pooling in her own eyes, her voice barely holding together. “Okay. I’ll try. I’ll be here, I promise. Just… please, don’t give up on us yet.”

Y/N looked at her for a long moment, then glanced down at their child, sleeping peacefully through the aftermath of their fight. “I won’t give up, Billie. But you have to fight for us too. You have to be here.”

The silence that followed was different this time—quieter, with an unspoken promise lingering between them. It wasn’t a resolution, not really, but it was a moment of understanding, a fragile thread that might still hold them together.

[historicity-was-already-taken]

So, I saw you mention from the river to the sea being antisemitic. I’ve heard various people claim it had antisemitic origins but was never able to find reliable corroborating messages and was curious if u could elaborate on that more, if that’s why. The other argument I’ve heard is it being coded for “free from the jews” which. Yk. I definitely know there are some people who say it with that intent. But I am skeptical of insisting that implication is Always present to people who have found it a useful slogan to rally around on this issue without evidence backing up that intent in the original popularization of the slogan or that it has been widespread deliberately used with that meaning for a long time. Given your whole historian business I don’t doubt that you DO have solid reason for saying it’s antisemitic, I’d just love to hear the details.

I'm going to copy and paste what I wrote about this in an earlier post, because that's still my response:

"That phrase contains strongly genocidal undertones with regard to the Jewish population of Israel who were forced to settle there after being ethnically cleansed from their homes across Eurasia and North Africa over the course of the 20th century (many of whom were and continue to be treated like shit by that country's government and don't get me started on the Yishuv's treatment of Holocaust survivors).

More than half of the Jewish population of the world lives in Israel. As an American Jew and a Holocaust historian keenly aware of the circumstances regarding the postwar Jewish peopling of the modern State, I am deeply uncomfortable with seeing that phrase in my intellectual space. Free Palestine, yes; work towards equal rights for Arab and Palestinian citizens of Israel, yes; engage in active reparations for Palestinians who had their property actively stolen from them in 1948, yes; Truth and Reconciliation Commissions, yes; but not on the bodies of half of the 15 million Jews who remain on this planet."

There is no Collective Jewish Take on this, because Jews are not a hivemind. But it is my take, as a Jew, and as a Holocaust historian.

Jews across any political spectrum will be extremely sensitive to ANY language which reads to us incitement to ethnic cleansing, because we've been ethnically cleansed from all regions of Eurasia over the course of our ~3000 year history. A lot of Palestine activists don't want to engage with that and really resent being told that they need to. And like, I get it; I get their frustration, resentment, rage, and righteous indignation. But the Jewish pasts, and Jewish knowledge of our tenuous ongoing existence on this planet; those aren't going to go away just because it complicates rhetoric on the Israel/Palestinian Conflict.

People can keep using "from the river to the sea." You can keep using it. I'm not the Language Police. Some Jews here and elsewhere may feel comfortable using it and being in spaces where it's used. I'm not going to shit on those Jews or call them "Kapos" or "Self-hating" or "pick-mes." But I'm also not going to change my opinion or my analysis, or ever be comfortable with its use in my intellectual space.

[girlactionfigure]

let Anne Frank rest

NOVEMBER 11, 2024

THIS IS DISRESPECTFUL

ANNE, MARGOT, THEIR MOTHER, AND FATHER WERE ZIONISTS

Here’s the thing: we have absolutely no way of knowing how Anne Frank would feel about today’s Israel-Hamas war, because her life was brutally cut short by the Nazis at just 15 years old. Is it possible that she would be attending pro-Palestine marches and donning keffiyehs? Sure, it’s possible. A minority of Jews do that.  

Here’s what we know for sure: in her own famous diary, Anne Frank wrote that she was interested in Zionism. Her sister, Margot Frank, was an ardent Zionist. She joined the Dutch Zionist youth club in 1941, and hoped to make aliyah (immigrate) to Mandatory Palestine, where she planned on becoming a midwife for the Yishuv (pre-state Jewish community in Palestine).

Otto Frank, the only family member to survive the war, was very, very strongly pro-Israel, particularly after the Holocaust (whereas beforehand, he was slightly more ambivalent, though never anti-Zionist). In fact, in the 1970s, Otto had a disagreement with the Anne Frank House, as he demanded that the museum’s statutes explicitly affirm Israel’s right to exist — a right much of today’s keffiyeh-wearing pro-Palestine movement doesn’t accept.

We don’t know how Anne would feel today. But we do know how most Holocaust survivors feel. Not only do most Holocaust survivors -- like most Jews -- support Israel, but 49% of today’s remaining 245,000 survivors live in Israel. It’s even possible that Anne may have moved to Israel had she survived the war; after all, Israel absorbed nearly 400,000 Holocaust survivor refugees between 1946-1952, including Anne’s childhood best friend, Hanna Goslar.

APPROPRIATION OF OUR TRAUMA, AGAIN

I’ve talked about Holocaust inversion on this account for years. I have numerous posts on it, with more coming. But perhaps I haven’t made this explicitly clear yet: Holocaust inversion -- that is, the depiction of Jews and/or Israelis as Nazis, crypto-Nazis, or “worse than the Nazis” and the Palestinians as the “true” victims of the Holocaust -- is a blatant appropriation of the Jewish people’s worst collective trauma.  

That is not to say that Palestinians don’t endure pain. Of course they do, and pain and trauma can’t exactly be quantified. But this obsession with stripping Jews of our very unique, deeply painful experience and placing it onto someone else is deeply offensive. At a certain point, it almost looks like these people have Holocaust envy, which is bizarre and frankly deeply disturbing.  

Why would you want this? For six years, the international community stood by as nearly 70% of Europe’s Jewish population was exterminated in the most industrialized genocide in human history. Countries all over the world shut their doors to Jewish refugees. The Allies refused to bomb the death camps and the railroads leading to the camps, despite the desperate pleas from the Jewish community. In 1939, there were 16.6 million Jews in the world. Today, 85 years later, we just scrape 15 million. This is not what has ever happened to Palestinians, whose population has not decreased by even half a percentage point since 1948, not even since October 7, and not even in Gaza (as there have been more births than deaths, according to Hamas and Save the Children). 

Even more infuriating? Not even did Palestinian Arab leadership collaborate with the Nazis during the Holocaust -- and in 1948 -- but public opinion polls from the time period demonstrate most Palestinian Arabs favored Nazi Germany. Enough. You don’t get to take this one from us, because your ancestors, too, were complicit during the Holocaust.

STOP IMPOSING IDENTITIES ON JEWS

As I explained in a recent post, antisemitism can arguably be divided into two categories: (1) “Nazi antisemitism,” which seeks to eliminate Jews physically, and (2) “Hanukkah antisemitism,” which seeks to strip Jews of the qualities that make us Jewish. In other words, forced assimilation.

Anne Frank was a Jewish child. She was born in Germany and later became Dutch. Never in her lifetime would she have worn a Palestinian keffiyeh, because at the time, the Palestinian keffiyeh was the official uniform of British officer Sir John Bagot Glubb’s “Desert Patrol,” comprised of Palestinian and Jordanian Arab Bedouins who were loyal to the British police force in Mandatory Palestine. Since Anne Frank was neither a Bedouin nor a member of Glubb’s Desert Patrol, putting the keffiyeh on her -- a murdered child -- is nothing but imposing an identity on her that isn’t hers.  

Maybe this sounds dramatic, or like it shouldn’t be a big deal. But this is also part of a larger pattern of Palestinians appropriating Jewish historical figures and claiming them as their own (the Jesus comes to mind).

And this is not a matter of doing this just to historical figures, but to living, breathing Jews. For example, several of the released Hamas hostages testified that Hamas threatened to forcibly convert them to Islam, much like their ancestors once did to ours when they conquered the Holy Land from the Byzantines in the 7th century.

IF YOU ACTUALLY CARED ABOUT ANNE FRANK, YOU WOULD CARE ABOUT THIS

On November 7, 2024, a premeditated pogrom took place in the streets of Amsterdam -- Anne Frank’s Amsterdam.

Thousands of pro-Palestinians supporters ambushed Israeli Maccabi Tel Aviv fans as they were leaving a Maccabi Tel Aviv-AFC Ajax soccer match. Much like on October 7, the perpetrators live-streamed themselves stabbing Israelis and Jews, running over Israelis and Jews, throwing firecrackers at Israelis and Jews, and beating Israelis and Jews to a pulp, as the Amsterdam police looked the other way. They stole their phones and passports, and for some time, some of the victims were missing. Jews tried to hide in a canal, in boats, in a KFC, and more, just like the Franks hid in an attic. The perpetrators forced the victims to shout “free Palestine!” They attacked not just men, but women and children. Not all of the victims were Maccabi Tel Aviv fans, or Israelis, but all of the victims were Jews -- or perceived to be Jews.  

Of course, it wasn’t long until antisemites -- and the mainstream media -- spun the event, which, again, had not only been premeditated, but the perpetrators had dubbed “a Jew hunt” (in fact, it was so premeditated Israel had forewarned the Dutch police). They said it was simply soccer hooligans brawling, or that it happened because the day before, a few Israelis had torn down a Palestinian flag, or because some of the Maccabi fans had chanted racist chants. In this regard, they’re in terrible company: every pogrom in history has had its “justification;” sometimes the justification is based on a true event; other times, it’s pure fiction (e.g. blood libel). Kristallnacht, the pogrom that marks the beginning of the Holocaust, was excused because a Jew killed a German diplomat in Paris.

Are some Maccabi fans racist? It seems so. That’s no justification for an attempted lynching. Imagine if Jews tried to lynch pro-Palestinian protestors every time they chant antisemitic chants (“globalize the intifada,” “Khaybar, Khaybar ya Yahud,” for example), or every time an Israeli flag or hostage poster is torn down. None of us would have jobs, because this happens daily, multiple times a day, everywhere in the world.

For over a year, Dutch Jewish community leaders have warned of a hostile, dangerous environment for Jews in the Netherlands, and in Amsterdam more specifically. The Central Jewish Consultation, the official Jewish umbrella organization in the Netherlands, defined the November 7 mob attacks as a “pogrom” and tied it to the growing antisemitic climate in the country, which existed long before any Maccabi Tel Aviv fans showed up in Amsterdam.

As usual, however, antisemites are tokenizing the words of fringe Jews whose views are not representative of the community. 

The Chief Rabbi of the Netherlands also issued a damning statement, noting the hostile, antisemitic climate in the country.

The above is true. But this is not a one-off event. The Netherlands has been failing the Jewish community for a long, long time. These situations don’t escalate out of nowhere. Instead of offering us your apologies and condolences after the fact, take decisive action.

For a full bibliography of my sources, please head over to my Instagram and  Patreon. 

rootsmetals

another post I started working on before November 7 that suddenly became very relevant…

[llamagoddessofficial]

Can you believe I've never done Farmtale Sans before? As a certified country girl? Shocking, I know. I'll rectify this issue with my latest brainrot scenario immediately

---

“whoever this is, it better be real fuckin’ important,” the voice at the other end said, gruff and tired, heavy with a mix of annoyance and sleepiness.

Immediately, shame washed over you. The very small amount of steam you’d managed to muster up completely dissipated from your body as you imagined Sans’ disappointed and disbelieving reaction to your pathetic request.

This was a mistake.

“... H-hey. Uhm... I’m fine, I didn’t mean to call. Butt dial, hahah.” Your voice nearly cracked. “Sorry for waking you up.”

“... wait.” His voice instantly changed. “hey, don’t hang up-”

You didn’t hear the rest of what he said. You hung up, and put the phone down. Now you were right back to square one, sitting at the kitchen table in a freezing empty house at 2 in the morning. It had taken you almost half an hour to muster up the courage to call him- thirty minutes of sitting by the phone, wrapped up in your coat, shaking and holding back tears. You started plotting places you were going to sleep. Maybe if you put more wood in the kitchen stove, you could just sleep at the table until morning. 

... You inherited this place from your grandmother. It was a ‘rustic’ house that hadn’t seen human company for over a decade, in the middle of the deep countryside, cut off from almost everything. Spooky, draughty, on nights like tonight sitting in the kitchen was like sitting in a fridge. You had moved out of necessity- your landlord in the city had evicted you from your beloved apartment to jack up his prices, and you couldn’t find anywhere else to live except this middle-of-nowhere house left in your name.

You had lived in the city your whole life. You weren’t used to being in the country, not at all. The month you’d spent here had only reinforced that fact to you, over and over.

Something made a noise outside. An animal, maybe. You curled your coat tighter around you.

The only upside so far had been meeting the monsters that made up the tight-knit community you had been unceremoniously dropped into. Papyrus and Sans, especially, had been so wonderful and helpful. Sans had told you to call if you needed anything.

... Which was exactly why you didn’t have the heart to tell him why you were really calling. You didn’t want him to think any worse of you than he probably already did. A stuck-up city girl who doesn’t know what she’s doing.

You were scared.

... 

The phone rang. The sound made you jump, it felt so loud in the silence. Despite your increasing shame, and the desire to just let it ring... you picked up.

“c’mon, don’t be like that.” He sounded much softer than when he had first answered. “what’s wrong? something happen?”

“N-no.” Hearing someone else’s voice was so comforting. You felt so alone, far away from everyone. “It’s nothing.”

You obviously weren’t very convincing. “doesn’t seem like nothing. you sound terrified.”

“I’m just cold.”

“didja kill someone? do i need to come over and help hide a body?”

You couldn’t help it, that made you giggle a little.

...

It just came. You didn’t entirely know why. Probably because it was two, and you hadn’t slept since six the previous morning. Unable to help yourself, you just... burst into tears.

“hey. s’ok, you’re gonna be ok. i’m on the way.”

“N-no, no, please,” You pressed your sleeve against your eyes The shame was absolutely overwhelming. “Please don’t come,”

“too late. already outta bed, it’s serious business. you gonna tell me what’s got you all shaken up?”

You pulled your knees up to your face. Well, no hiding it now, huh? He’d heard you sobbing over the phone. Your voice crumpled under a mixture of tears, fear, immense fatigue and shame. You felt like such a baby. 

“Th-there’s a huge spider on my bed,” you finally admitted, feebly. “I-I’m... I don’t know what to do.”

“aw jeez. why didn’t you just say?”

You could suddenly barely talk through the crying. Hours of stress, all coming out in one mess. He probably thought you were pathetic.

“hey. knock knock.”

As he said that, you heard two soft knocks on your side door. You jumped up, what the hell? Was that Sans? You dropped the phone and rushed to the door to let him in, almost tripping over yourself. 

You opened the door, the air was full of the sound of wind and crickets. Sans stood in the darkness outside of the house, dressed in a thick knitted sweater, blue and white striped pyjama bottoms, big heavy boots, and a coat over the top of it all. He had the phone in one hand, and his smile widened when he saw you.

Shocked, you scrubbed at your eyes and nose again, self consciously trying to wipe off the tears and snot. He lived half an hour's drive from you. “H-how... how did you get here so fast?”

“shortcut.” He winked, those lovely emerald green eyelights glimmering in the low light. “can i come in?”

You nodded, not trusting your voice, stepping to the side. Maybe he knew roads your map apps didn't. Sans eagerly came into the light, kicking off his shoes and closing the door behind him.

“this way?” he asked. 

... You showed him to the bedroom, but cowered in the doorway. 

“I-it’s under the sheet.”

Sans didn’t even hesitate. He approached the bed and flipped back the sheet. The spider hadn’t moved since you last saw it scurry under your bedclothes, still sitting right there, with its fat hairy body and sharp legs. It was probably the biggest spider you had ever seen in your entire life. You felt a horrible chill pass over you.

“dang. he is big. look at the size of that gangly fucker.”

Having said that, Sans just... grabbed it. He picked the spider up before it could run and held it in his enclosed fist like he was scooping up a penny he had dropped on the floor. Just like that, he moved across the room and pulled back the curtain, cracked the window open, stuck his arm out, and threw the spider out into the darkness.

He closed the window again. The air felt less heavy. He even tugged the handle to make sure the window was all properly sealed up, pulling the curtains closed again.

It took him all of fifteen seconds.

“all good.” He turned to you, grinning and showing you his open palms. No spider. “successfully evicted.”

...

You started crying again. 

Sans mumbled a soft ‘aw jeez’. He didn’t hesitate to cross the room, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into a warm hug, ignoring your babbled apologies. 

“he really spooked ya, huh?” A gentle hand smoothed over your hair. He smelled like sweet hay, hours of sunshine, and something slightly musky. “how long were you tryna drum up the courage?”

“T-two hours,” you sobbed, muffled in his sweater.

You’d expected him to laugh at you. But he didn’t. He just held you, letting you cry out all the stress that had been building up over the course of the night. You were pretty sure this was the first time you had been hugged since before you left the city.

Eventually, you calmed yourself down, reducing to just hiccups. Sans didn’t let go until you did, allowing you to pull away, but keeping a steadying hand on your arm. 

“easy, pet.” His voice was so warm and soothing. “you’re all good.”

“Fucking... I’m just such a baby.” Your sleeves were damp from all of the tear wiping you were doing. You made an unattractive sniffling sound. “You didn’t even hesitate.”

“cus i’m used to ‘em. also, i’m a skeleton, so i don’t gotta worry about being bitten. no shame in bein’ scared of the big ones.” 

Your voice was hoarse. “I’m sorry you came out all this way.”

“... did you think i’d be mad at you?” he asked, softly.

“M-mhm.”

“i really don’t mind bein’ yer bug removing hero." He patted his nonexistent bicep. "tell ya what, it makes me feel very big an’ tough.”

He had you giggling again. He always did. He seemed proud of himself- his presence was balm to your Soul right now. 

“I just... I get so scared at night.” Your cheeks were hot. “It’s so quiet, and dark. I feel like I’m the only person around for miles. I don’t know why I thought I could do this.”

"this?"

"Living out here."

“hey, i beg to differ. yer already doin’ so much better than most who move to these parts.”

You looked up at him. Why did that tiny bit of praise make your heart swell so much? You didn’t feel like you were doing ‘better’. You’d just called your nearest neighbour at 2 in the morning to come save you from a spider. “But I’m always asking for help.”

“exactly. you’re askin’. that’s the important part.” His eyelights were so warm. “that’s how we make it work, out here. we help each other.”

Goddamnit. You were gonna cry again. You just about managed to choke it down.

“... the animal noises also probably freak you out too, huh?”

“Y-yeah, hah.”

“if you don’t know what yer hearin’, it can be pretty scary.”

... You sniffled.

...

“... you’re shaking. d’ya want me to stay?”

How did he know? He always just seemed to know. You nodded, meekly. You didn’t want to be alone right now, and you knew the house would feel even colder and emptier once you’d known how it felt while you had company.

“Will Papyrus be worried?”

“he knew i was headin’ out to help ya. he’ll be fine.”

... You didn’t need to say out loud where you wanted Sans to sleep. Both of you knew.

The two of you finally took off your coats, and Sans turned off the lights. His forest-coloured eyelights were the only illumination in the room. As soon as he shuffled into bed beside you, you gratefully curled up against him, he was so calming and so warm. He reciprocated, wrapping his big arms around you, his comforting smell soothing your shot nerves. 

“... Thank you.” Your voice was almost a whisper.

“yer really warm.” he hummed. “just so you know, i’m a bit of a snorer.”

You probably should’ve been more concerned, sharing a bed in a very secluded location with a guy you barely knew. But you didn’t have the energy for it. For the first time in a long time, you were warm, didn’t feel lonely, and weren’t worried at all about bugs. 

“I don’t mind.”

... It was the best night’s sleep you’d ever had.

[cheriladycl01]

Back in my Day - Fernando Alonso x AustralianOlympicBoxing! Reader

Plot: Becoming a full time paddock WAG after pregnancy and a bad boxing injury and how you wouldn’t change anything in your life!

“Do you ever miss it?” He asks as he joins you in the motor home after just going fastest in FP2. He starts to pull you into a little sweaty hug, which you don’t mind as your used to it with you both being athletes.

“Miss what?” You ask walking round cleaning up after your guys son and daughter who were currently out getting ice cream with the mechanics.

“The adrenaline of a fight, the way the gloves feel, the smell of the ring?” He asks with a distant look in his eyes.

“Of course I do, sometimes I wish I could go back just to see if I’ve still got it. But there’s more important things in my life now than boxing and … I’ve made my country proud. I want to focus on everything I missed out on when I was younger. I want to see the world with you and our kids and I want to be a present mum you know, not of fighting in a boxing ring every week” you sigh, squatting while looking up at him, half cleaning half giving him your attention.

A loud sigh comes from his as he sets himself on the sofa.

“Why what’s got you thinking about this” you ask, standing up and taking a seat next to him with a pat on his thigh.

“I just … sometimes I think back to the incident with you and how worried I was seeing you that injured. I mean … I thought you died in that ring and I know it can’t be easy to watch me in the car and I’m just thinking maybe … maybe it’s time I think about retiring?” He asks almost quietly like he’s afraid to admit what he truly had been thinking.

“Fernando it wouldn’t surprise me if your 60 and racing and scaring the living daylights out of me” you laugh looking over him.

“I’m being serious, I’ve seen how … attentive you are with the kids … and me and I think it’s time I want that life too. I’ve been playing a F1 playboy for far to long. I want to come home, wherever that is as long as I’m with you, you are my home” he smiles and tears fill your eyes.

“Fernando I love you” you kiss him.

“How do you deal with not having it in your life anymore?” He asks into your neck, making it come out a bit muffled.

“Well I have a lot of other stuff that I focus on. And I still do it, I teach it in a gym to kids and I do training in our gym so it’s not fully gone. And the feeling of winning and improving after a loss is something that is more nostalgic than anything. I don’t miss it necessarily, but it’s nice to look back on and think of what I did. Winning gold twice and silver once!” You smile, looking up in a thoughtful way.

“Hmmmmm that sounds, kind of peaceful” he offers and you laugh a little.

“Yeah I guess you could say it is. But Fernando, racing is a part of you, like boxing IS a part of me. It never really leaves you, no matter whether that’s because you continue until you physically can’t and break the record for oldest racing driver, or you own a karting track in Spain and train the next generation … or you become a manager for our son who no doubt will be a world champion with the way he looks up to you or even doing a Nico Rosberg and become a journalist… but baby, the world of F1 will never ever leave you” you assure your husband.

“You’ve made me even more confused on my deduction now” he sighs laughing and rubbing a hand over his face.

“Well whatever that decision is, I’ll be here for you” you smile.

“You know, I remember that one time, I think it was the 2012 Olympics in London, before the accident when you were so convinced you weren’t going to get gold and then you just all of a sudden had this ambition in your eyes … what was that” he asks.

“You, honesty. Your pep talk” you smile kissing his cheek.

“What do you think I should do?” He asks looking at you with the face of a lost puppy.

“That’s not a choice I can make for you my love” you smile at him patting his head leaving him to his thoughts while you go to find the kids.

Fernando stays with his own thoughts for a little before he saunters out to go find you.

As he rounds a corner he sees you messing about with the kids and Lance and it’s a sight to behold. One he can’t help but think he misses far to often.

But was he truly ready to give up his career.

“Papa” your daughter cries running over to her father the 6 year old not knowing much better than to rush off into the busy paddock lane to get to her father.

“Hello beautiful” he smiles as he picks her up, nuzzling her nose with his doing an Eskimo Kiss that they had done since she was just a baby.

Once his son came up to him, offering him an ice cream, that was starting to melt a little and starting to tell him how amazing he raced today his choice was clearer than ever.

Family came first.

y/user

Liked by fernandoalo_oficial and astonmartinf1

y/user: Life Recently. Love my kids, guess the husband is okay 👍🏼

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astonmartinf1: MOTHER 👏🏼

fan1: omg I want her life so bad

fernandoalo_oficial: my gorgeous wife! I will ignore the caption!

-> y/user: you know I joke 🥰

fan2: her and Fernando bantering makes my life

lancestroll: when will I get to see the kids again!

-> y/user: next race my first son 🤣🫶🏼

-> fan3: Y/N and Fernandos first child Lance Alonso

hater1: gold digger

-> y/user: more like gold medalist … 🥇

Instagram Story Caption:

Back at it mate 🫶🏼 🇦🇺

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[sansaorgana]

I’ve never understood why we shoot off fireworks in the USA for the 4th, I just feel like it could trigger some of our veterans and it makes me feel awful! Could you write something like this with Buck?

hello! 💖 in my country we only shoot them on new year's eve but since I own two cats, I hate them 😡 one of my cats is so terrified each time that he literally has spasms 😥 the older he gets, the more worried I am each new year's eve tbh 😐 anyway, thank you for your request! 🎆 I was actually thinking of something like this with Buck!

I had to close my requests for now because I got so many 🙏🏻

It was the first Independence Day after the war and you were excited that you would celebrate it with your husband for the first time in two years. Especially now, after the victory, it felt more special than ever.

You decided to throw a barbecue for your befriended neighbours and you had been preparing the house and the garden for the whole week – putting up decorations with Buck’s help and cleaning everything. In the last two days you had also been busy with cooking meals and preparing salads while Buck had been supplying your fridge with everything needed for the barbecue – all sorts of meat, vegetables and sodas.

The only thing you hadn’t bought were the fireworks. You wanted to save some money, especially after hearing that different neighbours down the street were preparing a real show anyway. Surprisingly, Buck had agreed to that pretty quickly although you had expected him to try to convince you to get your own fireworks. Not because he had ever been a big fan of them but he never liked it when you were using the “saving money” argument. Whenever you would use it in different situations – like deciding whether to buy a dress or not – he would say “if it makes you happy, we can afford that”. And he knew very well that this barbecue party was making you happy.

However, you didn’t ask about it because it didn’t seem to be significant enough and you completely forgot about it anyway, too busy with all the preparations.

The barbecue started in the afternoon and the weather was beautiful on that day – clear, blue skies above you, giving you a perfect view of the fireworks here and there in the distance. You were handing the bottles of beer and coke to the guests while Buck was in charge of the barbecue when one of the neighbours asked a question that made you freeze.

“Damn, it’s like back there again, is it not?” He chuckled at Buck.

His name was Frank and he had been to Europe as well but not as a pilot. He was obviously referring to the fireworks in the background as he tried to turn it into a joke but his wife Helen hissed at him.

You suddenly realised that the sound of fireworks was not the same to everyone and you looked at your husband, worried. He might have seemed to be pretty alright after the horrors he had endured but you knew him better than everyone else and you knew. You knew about his nightmares and panic attacks. They were rare but they still were happening, sometimes triggered by the things you had never thought of before as threatening. Like with the fireworks.

“I don’t pay attention to them,” Buck gave Frank a kind smile. “My brain just shuts the sound off at this point,” he explained and he seemed to be genuine in his answer, which made you sigh in relief.

You went back to handing out the sodas and glanced at the watch on your hand. It was half an hour until the fireworks show promised by the neighbours living down the street.

When everyone had a bottle of their chosen beverage already, you joined your husband’s side to help him with the meat and vegetables. Rubbing his arm softly and laughing at the jokes being told by the others, you felt happy and satisfied with your life. Finally, after such a long time, it was back to normal, you thought. Well, nearly.

Everyone was sitting by the table in your garden and talking when you realised you had forgotten to bring mustard and ketchup.

“I’ll get it,” Buck smiled at you and stood up.

“Grab me a can of coke from the fridge, too, darling,” you told him and he nodded before disappearing inside the house.

A short moment later, the fireworks show started. Your neighbours living down the street had to spend a real fortune on it because the fireworks were many and very, very loud. You gasped and watched in awe as others stood up and cheered.

You, Helen and Frank were the only ones left sitting by the table. From the corner of your eye, you spotted that Frank’s face changed. He was no longer smiling and his skin lost some of its colour. Helen was squeezing his shaky hands and whispering something to him.

A very loud firework made you flinch while others screamed out of joy and Frank jumped on his seat. You stood up rapidly, realising that Buck hadn’t come back from the house yet.

“Helen, listen,” you leaned in to talk to her despite the noise. “You can go inside with Frank, it’s okay,” you assured her.

“Thank you,” she mouthed out with gratitude in her eyes before urging him to stand up and follow her inside.

You, however, weren’t waiting for them because you were rushing to the house yourself. You froze at the sight of your husband sitting by the kitchen table and hiding his face in his shaky hands. In fact, his whole body trembled and there was a broken bottle of mustard in the middle of the floor. He had to drop it when the fireworks show started.

Your heart broke at the sight. Your Buck was the strongest and the bravest man you knew. You would always go to him when you needed comfort or help because he was so capable of making everything – everything – better. He was good at fixing things in the physical sense but he was also always comforting you with his kindness and calm nature. He would never panic about anything and you had always admired him for that.

In moments like this, you felt helpless because you couldn’t take his pain away. And if you could, you would. He had already suffered so much that from now on, you’d rather suffer for him. But you were also angry – angry at the war for taking place and breaking him so much.

“Darling…” You started slowly and crouched down in front of him, carefully, trying not to startle him. He didn’t seem to acknowledge your presence, though. “Darling…” You repeated and put your hands on his trembling thighs.

He flinched and you shushed him while tears streamed down your cheeks. 

“Shh, shh, baby, it’s me, it’s okay, you’re home,” you tried to soothe him. “You’re with me now, you’re safe,” you assured but it was not working.

You took a deep breath in and moved up now, to stand above him. You put your hands on Buck’s ears, trying to shield him away from the noise coming from the outside. And then, gently, you pulled his face closer to you and pressed it to your tummy. You leaned in to kiss the top of his head and whisper sweet nothings that were supposed to calm him down and after a while it seemed to be working. You could feel his muscles relaxing and eventually he stopped hiding his face in his hands and wrapped his arms around your waist instead, clinging to you like a little boy.

When the fireworks show stopped and it was quiet again, you moved your hands away from Buck’s ears and began to rub his back soothingly instead.

“It’s alright now, baby, you’re home with me. I won’t let anything bad happen to you,” you promised in a whisper, sniffing back your own tears.

Buck looked up at you with teary eyes and you cupped his face to wipe his tears off of his cheeks with your thumbs. You let your fingers trace his scars and your lower lip trembled. Not that you minded those scars – not at all – but they were yet another reminder of what horrors he had been through. And he was just a man – as weak and scared as everyone else; only forced to be brave.

You understood now why he was scared of having a son with you one day. He was scared of another war coming sooner or later and he was scared of his own child going through what he had gone through.

You feared that, too. And you didn’t even fully know what had happened in Europe. Only the men who had been there knew. Women – especially those who had stayed back home – they would never understand.

“Are you back with me now, my love?” You asked, gently. Buck nodded after a while of hesitation.

“Sorry ‘bout the mustard,” he mumbled out and you chuckled as you shook your head.

“It doesn’t matter, darling,” you assured him.

But you were grateful that Buck’s panic attacks were like that. Perhaps it was wrong to be grateful for such things but you had heard enough stories of triggered men who would do much worse things while having panic attacks.

“I’m sorry…” He breathed out as fresh tears pricked his eyes.

“Don’t,” you interrupted him as you crouched down again and held his hands now to squeeze them tight. “Don’t, Gale, please, don’t ever apologise for that,” you pleaded and he looked down.

“I didn’t expect them to be so loud and so… Close. I… I suddenly wasn’t in our kitchen anymore but back in the air, up in the fort and the Germans were shooting at us and I was trying to focus on flying but deep down I was just… I was just praying to get back home to you and all I could see was your face when they tell you I’m dead and…” He started and you pursed your lips to stop your own tears from falling.

“I know, baby, I know. But it’s over now, yes? You’re back home with me, safe and sound,” you reminded him and leaned in to place a kiss upon one of his hands.

You heard footsteps behind you. It was Helen peeking inside shyly. You turned around to shake your head at her and she gave you an understanding look before walking out without a word.

“Let’s clean up now, yes?” You let go of Buck’s hands and fixed your hair before standing up clumsily.

You occupied yourself with cleaning the mess from the broken mustard bottle and Buck washed his face with cold water in the kitchen sink. You handed him some of the paper towels you were using so he could dry his face.

“You’ve missed the fireworks show because of me,” he pointed out.

“God damn those fireworks shows, Buck!” You exclaimed. “God damn them. I don’t want to see any ever again. I’m sorry that I didn't think that it would… That it would scare you like that,” you apologised.

“Well, it takes time to come to terms with the fact that your husband is a coward now,” Buck sighed and so did you, while throwing the used paper towels into the trash bin aggressively.

“My husband is not a coward and has never been. However, that self-pity attitude is new to me,” you told him and he turned his head around to look at you. “My husband is the bravest man I know,” you added. “He is my hero. And I don’t allow you to talk about him this way, you hear me? I have defended him from all the women in town telling me that men in the captive camps were no real heroes and I will defend him from you, too, when you’re so mean to him, Buck, I mean it.”

“Stop, or I’ll cry again,” he shook his head and sniffled.

There was a hint of a smile on his face and it made you grin as well before you approached him and wrapped your arms around him to hug him tight.

“I love my wife, too. The most in the whole wide world,” he assured you and hugged you back while pressing his lips to the top of your head but you could still understand his words. “I wasn’t brave, really, I wasn’t. I just did everything it took to come back to you.”

MASTERLIST || BUCK MASTERLIST

[allywthsr]

FOLLOW THE WHITE RABBIT | (l.norris)

summary: Lando and you talk about the cheating rumors, you find out the truth and you solve things between each other. Part two to Reckless

wordcount: 5.4k words

pairing: landonorris x singer!femreader

warnings: panic attack, crying (let me know if I missed anything)

notes: the love part one got, made my heart throb. Thank you!!!! I hope you like whatever I wrote there, also the first time I used text messages and tweets, tell me what you think about them!! I used follow the white rabbit by Madison Beer for this part! I deleted some lyrics, hope you don’t mind.

You were not ready for Lando to come home. Not ready at all.

You didn’t know who you should believe, him or the pictures that were posted all over the internet. Of course you wanted to believe him, you‘ve been in a relationship with him for over five years now, he never gave you a reason to doubt him. But the picture literally had proof on them, showing him in the act of kissing this woman. And we‘re not talking a smooch we’re talking full on make out session in the middle of the club. His excuse better be good or you would leave, and if he started to blame the alcohol you would be fuming. Alcohol is not an excuse to kiss other people, even when you‘re drunk you need to think of your significant other.

Normally Lando wasn’t even planing to come home, the plan was that he flew straight to Belgium for the next race weekend and you would join him there, but now you weren’t sure if you wanted to go and see him race, even if things cleared between you two. But you weren’t sure if they would, even when there was an explanation for it, he still kissed this girl and met up with her multiple times in Monaco. And there‘s no denying it, there were pictures that clearly showed him with her.

You wanted things fixed with him, you loved him with your whole heart, he was your person. What are you gonna do if things didn’t work out? Move back to your home country? Stay in Monaco? Move somewhere you‘ve never lived before? You had absolutely no clue.

The wait felt like days, you walked around your apartment, cleaning here and there, trying to calm your nerves. You settled in the living room waiting for Lando to arrive. After three and a half hours you finally heard the door unlock, now your heartbeat fastened, you had the feeling that your heart was going to jump out of your chest, and you thought that you were going to faint. Too scared that things won’t work out and you‘ve spent the last five and a half years with Lando for nothing. You wanted to marry him, you wanted to have children with him, you wanted to build your forever home, you wanted to get a dog, and you couldn’t imagine all these things with someone else. You did not think you could ever love someone as much as you loved him.

”Y/N?“, you froze. Nope, you wanted to leave, this was too much for you. You couldn’t talk with him, look him in the eye or be in his presence.

You didn’t answer him, you wanted to but when you tried to speak, nothing came out.

”Y/N, are you there?“, he asked again. Tears started to form in your eyes, you were fucking scared. And before anything else happened you started to feel a panic attack coming, something you‘ve been familiar with but especially in the last hours had constantly. You started shaking and crying silently, breathing way too fast and not being able to help yourself getting out of it, you curled into a little ball, hugging your knees while putting your head on them while you rocked back and forth.

So when you heard footsteps nearing, you panicked even more. By now you were shaking uncontrollably and your sobs got louder and louder, you felt like fainting with the little air you only got. Lightheaded you looked up and saw Lando standing in the middle of the living room.

”Y/N what the fuck, are you okay?“, you just shook your head and before you could take another breath he was next to you on the couch, taking you in his arms and squeezing you tight. The tears were just falling down your face and Lando thought about calling an ambulance. He had experienced you having a panic attack quite often, he even had some himself when he first got to formula one and the pressure became too much but he‘d never seen an attack being that bad. He just hoped his presence would calm you down, as it normally would but after the articles, he wasn’t that sure anymore.

”Hey Y/N, breathe Baby, you need to breathe. Do it like me“, he started to slowly breathe in with his nose loudly and held it in for a few seconds and then blew the air out of his mouth. You really did try to breathe like him, but your sobs interrupted you before you could breathe in. He held you tighter in hopes that he could stop your shaking but it only got worse.

”Is it better if I not touch you? I don’t want that you get worse only because I hug you“, but you just clawed your hands in his arm that was wrapped around your front and shook your head slightly.

”No? You want me to hug you?“, you squeezed his arm tighter and started to lean in his body a little.

”Okay, Baby you need to breathe or I need to call a doctor, this is not healthy and I can’t get you out of this headspace. You‘ll be fine, listen okay? Breath like me.“

You slowly took a breath in and before you could hold it, you let out a sob and another.

”I can’t breathe “, you pressed out of your lungs while trying to get some air.

”I know baby, but you need to come back to me, it‘ll all be fine. We are fine, okay? I love you so much but you need to come back to me love“, you tried so hard to breath normal but the panic attack was stronger and the sobs spilled out of your mouth again.

”I feel like I’m going to faint Lando.“

Now he started to panic, he really has never seen it that bad before, he needed to call a doctor, he couldn’t help you alone.

Then Lando got an idea, he wanted to use a technique you showed him and he never got the chance to try it out but now was the perfect timing.

”Baby I know, let’s do the senses thing you showed me okay?“, you just nodded while shaking.

” What are five things you can see?“

You lift your head from your knees and looked around.

”Y-You, the tab-table“, you took a shaky breath.

”It’s okay baby, take your time and breath.“

”The couch, the plan-plant, the lamp.“

”Good job angel, breath. Now what are four things you can touch?“

”Y-Y-You“, you were interrupted by a sob, ”The couch, my phone, the table.“

”Yes baby, now take a deep breath“, you looked into his eyes and repeated the breathing he did.

”Good, three things you can hear?“

You looked back through the room, focusing on what you can hear at the moment, allowing your brain to calm down.

”Your voice, the neighbors drilling something in the wall and my phone pinging with messages.“

”Exactly“, he pressed a kiss on the side of your head, ”two things you can smell?“

”You and the room perfume I sprayed this morning.“

”Good job love“, he noticed how you were much calmer than he started, barely letting out a sob and only a little shaky.

”And what is one thing you can taste?“

You chuckled, ”You.“

He let out a quiet laugh, ”Yes baby. Breathe okay? Do it with me.“

You turned your face back to his face and after he took a deep breath through his nose, you repeated after him.

”Hold it.“

You nodded and together you hold the air for about five seconds, and after that, you both let the air out through the mouth. He repeated that three more times and after that, you were back to your old self.

”Welcome back love, do you need anything? Water or do you want to lie down? Sleep for an hour?“

You shook your head and answered him with a: ”I need you.“ He whispered an ’Okay‘ and placed his head on yours, enjoying the embrace you guys were still in. After what felt like hours of sitting there, it was probably only ten minutes, he slowly let go of you, and you whined when he did that.

”I‘m gonna get some water and then we can talk, yeah?“

You nodded and let out a breath, too scared to fall back into a panic attack, you weren’t ready for what was coming.

When he came back with two glasses of water and placed them on the little coffee table and sat on the couch across from you, he began.

”So it looks bad, but it’s not like everyone says it happened. Yes, I kissed her, well, she kissed me. But only for two seconds and maybe it looks like a full make out but I swear it was only for like three seconds. She pulled my head down and wrapped my hands around her waist and before I could react she kissed me, but I immediately pushed her away. My brain needed a second to register what was happening because I was in such a shaken state, and that’s where they took a picture.“

”But you hung out with her in Monaco, and she was in Hungary when you were racing.“

”Yes I-“, he didn’t know what to say, it wasn’t like he was searching for an excuse but more like the right words, ”I met up with her because she‘s actually the sister of a friend, and he asked me to pick her up because he couldn’t and didn’t want her to walk. I‘ve met her a few times at his‘ and yeah that’s basically it.“

”You literally went with her on a walk after I asked you to go with me to the docks for some fresh air!“, you argued, now getting frustrated.

”Yes and I have no excuse for that. I did go for a walk with her, but I don’t know what to tell you. She wanted us to be friends and friends hang out, so she asked me to meet her at the city.“

”So you ditched me, your girlfriend, for some chick and did not tell me about it? You could literally have asked me to go with you and we could‘ve met up with her.“

”I know and it’s stupid, but I guess I was overwhelmed with the race weekend coming up and so I didn’t thi-“

”No! You do not get to blame this on your job. This is you being a bitch.“

He chuckled, ”I was, but believe me, I never had any intention to do anything with her.“

”But she did!“

”Well, I know that now.“

”And what about my release party? This album is literally about you and you didn’t come? Do you even have an idea how embarrassed I was? Your family was there and they didn’t catch a glimpse of you the whole time they were in Monaco. I stood there all alone talking about how happy you made me and when people asked me about you, I had to tell them you were at the MTC. Everyone thought you were the biggest jerk for leaving when I had an important day. I travel around the world for you, I move meetings, and recording sessions just so I can join you for a race. I asked you to come for one day, one fucking day and you didn’t show. I even put the release date like that, so it wouldn’t be on a race week, so you could attend and my ass wouldn’t be alone. But I was alone, in this room full of people I love, I was alone because you weren’t there. I came home early and you weren’t even home and when I checked your location you were somewhere in Monaco. You could‘ve texted, you could‘ve called, yet - nothing. I thought you had some huge thing planned as a surprise for me but you didn’t even apologize. You just came home late and didn’t even think about me. I cried in our bed and you came in, changed your clothes and fell asleep immediately. Just the next day you said ’Oh I‘m sorry I didn’t come‘ and went on with your day? I literally cried on my release day, but not happy tears, that’s just fucking sad dude. This might not be a big deal to you, but releasing an album isn’t something you do every weekend.“, you started to pick at your sweatpants trying to distract your tears from falling down your cheeks. All the emotions came back from that day.

”I‘m so sorry I made you feel that way. I wanted to come I promise, I even bought that huge bouquet of your favorite flowers but then she called me and“, you let out a scoff, of course she called him, ”told me she her car broke down in the middle of nowhere and I was the only one she could reach. I had to help her and it took way longer than I expected, the tow truck took two hours to find our location, so when we finished and I drove her home because her car was in some repair shop, she invited me into her flat and we just had a soda relaxing from all the stress and I forgot to go to the party. I just remembered when I found the flowers in the trunk of my car the next morning, but they were all dead because they didn’t get any water all night long. This is not an excuse, I just want you to know what happened. And nothing will change the fact that I missed one of the most important nights of this year, but I am truly sorry. If I could go back and do it differently, I would immediately but I can’t. And I have no clue how to make it up to you, I could buy you another handbag or whatever but nothing could make it better. I still feel like an idiot, if that helps?“

”Not really, I am still super mad at you, you have no idea.“

”And you have every right to be. But I am really so fucking sorry, I never wanted to make you feel this way.“

”But how did she end up in Hungary?“

”I invited her“, your head turned to his at a speed of light, ”What?!“, you screamed at him.

”This girl is literally flirting with you, trying to get you away from me every second of the day and you invite her to your race? No wonder she kissed you. She must’ve thought this was you telling her it’s something serious.“

”What? Y/N, no, you’re delusional.“

”Lando, I know how girls work, especially the bad ones. You might be my first relationship but my friends have told me about them.“

”But that’s not why I wanted her to come. She asked me if she could ever come to a race because she’s never been. And we had a spare ticket because you didn’t come so I asked her.“

”That’s bullshit, she obviously wanted something from you and you didn’t see it.“

”Well, I‘m sorry. I don’t know what else to tell you. I messed up and I‘m a horrible boyfriend but I can’t change things now. I just know that I never wanted anything from her, I invited her because I thought she was a friend and I helped her with her car because she was a friend. If I had known her intention, I would’ve never even picked her up in the first place.“

”You‘re not a horrible boyfriend. But over the last three weeks, you weren’t a good one either. I felt so alone in this country I never wanted to move to in the first place. Yes, it’s beautiful and all but doesn’t feel like home, I miss my friends so badly, but they‘re all in the UK. And I don’t want to blame you for this because this decision was made by both of us but you told me, you would never leave me alone for long. Because I have barely anyone here. Yes, the girlfriends of your friends but I can live without them as well. I almost booked a flight two weeks ago to go home, because if I’m alone here I can go home alone. This city will never be my forever home, I hope you didn’t forget this.“

”I am sorry Y/N. And of course, I didn’t forget about you not being a hundred percent happy with Monaco, if you want we can start looking at lots to build on in England. Building a house is not something you do in a week, so if you want we start looking for them. I will not leave you alone from now on, I promise.“

”But how are we gonna come back from this?“

”What do you mean?“

”Lando, I can’t just go back to what it was like before it all started. I love you so much, but you also hurt me. And I’m still fucking sad over the things you did, even if you didn’t cheat.“

”I love you too, but you believe me, right? I never wanted anything from her, trust me.“

”I guess, the wounds are still fresh, so I need you to give me time. I need time to heal and get over it.“

”Of course Baby, take all the time you need. I just don’t want us to break up over someone stupid. She‘s not worth any of your tears. She‘s just this stupid bitch, and I know that now.“

”I don’t want us to break up over this as well but I need the time and I will fly home as soon as I can. I don’t want to go to Spa with you, I need time apart to calm down. That doesn’t mean I want a break or anything just some time for myself.“

”Are you sure that’s something you want?“

”No, I need this. I am not happy here and I don’t want to be in the paddock right now, I need some family and friends time and especially time for myself.“

He nodded and stood up. Now he was the one with the glossy eyes and pouting lip.

”Lando, why are you crying?“

You stood up and walked to hug him.

”I am just so sorry Y/N. I never wanted to hurt you and now you need time away from me. Which is fine but I am so fucking sorry“, he let out a quiet sob and the first tear spilled out of his left eye. You hugged him even tighter and now his arms slang around your body to return the hug. His head found its way to your neck and let it rest there, crying quietly. You let him cry everything out and even spilled some tears of your own. This was not a breakup, but you needed time apart. You knew how Lando was, he would do everything to express how sorry he was. Getting you gifts, flowers and whatnot just to suppress his feelings. But you didn’t want that, you wanted him to understand why you were sad and needed to go home, and by buying you gifts he wouldn’t understand.

After holding him in your arms for good five minutes he started to talk again: ”Did you write a song already?“, he slowly lifted his head from your shoulder and looked with his red eyes into yours. You chuckled, ”Yes I did, it’s called Reckless, but I don’t know if I‘ll release it, I mean you didn’t cheat in the end.“

”You should, to show the world what kind of asshole I am.“

”Baby, you’re not an asshole, I love you so much. Never see yourself as anything bad, you just hurt me, yes, but we hurt people all the damn time. But we solved it, just because I need to go home for a week or two doesn’t mean I hate you. You just need to realize what you did wrong and heal yourself. I don’t want you to think bad of yourself, you did some questionable things, but it’s not like you actually cheated. Okay? You‘re my person, my love, my baby and nothing can separate me from you.“

He just nodded. He needed some time for himself, you both knew that you both needed time to come back even stronger. So you went and packed all the things you needed for a week at home and booked a ticket for the next flight.

”When are you coming back home from Spa?“, you asked Lando, you wanted to book a flight to Monaco already, so you had no choice but to come back home to Lando.

”On Monday evening, then we planned to go on vacation on Wednesday, but I don’t know if you still want to come?“

”Of course, I‘ll come with you on our yearly family holiday, are you mad? Spending weeks on a yacht with only sunshine and you and your family is like a dream. I miss my Mila and I need my Mila cuddles. I‘ll fly back home to Monaco on Tuesday morning so I‘ll be back by Lunch time and we have enough time to pack.“

You looked at him, the way he sat on the bed, looking like he‘d lost the fight of his life, his arms were crossed before his chest, his legs were moving the whole time, too nervous to actually settle and his head was leaned against the headboard of the bed.

”Hey Lando, calm down, it’s only a week, you need to fly to Spa tomorrow anyway. Concentrate on your race, I‘ll be watching and supporting you from home“, you sat next to his leg and patted it.

”We‘re okay Lando. I forgive you, don’t worry. I just need a few days for myself and after I come back, we‘ll be just like before everything happened. So get your shit together and smile for me.“

He gave you a big smile, satisfied with it, you gave him a quick peck on his lips and stood up to gather the rest of your things. When you packed the rest of your toiletries in your bag, closing it with the zipper you let out a sigh and asked yourself if you really wanted to do this. You looked in the mirror and you knew the answer if you looked at yourself. You had bags under your eyes, they didn’t sparkle like they used to and your skin wasn’t rosy anymore. These three weeks took a toll on your whole being, you didn’t smile as much, and you for sure didn’t feel any happiness. But you were sure that after the week away from Monaco, you and Lando would come back stronger and everything would be okay again.

So when you stood with your luggage at the front door, Lando leaned to the wall next to it. You guys didn’t talk and just enjoyed the silence, both lost in your thoughts. When your phone got a notification, your Uber arrived and was ready to pick you up and take you to the airport. You wanted to now do it on your own and almost argued with Lando because you didn’t want him to take you. The week away starts now and he needed to accept that. He did something wrong, even if it wasn’t really his fault but he still met up with her and she was able to kiss him.

”I should go, my Uber is here.“

Lando just nodded and his head sunk, the first tear escaping his eye.

”Baby, please don’t cry. I‘ll see you in a week, you need to focus on your race, I don’t want you crashing just because I‘m home. You can text and call me whenever, it’s not like I‘m dead, I might not react immediately, because I want to do a little phone detox and maybe record some songs but if there’s an emergency, you have my parents' numbers and my siblings. My best friends as well, just focus and get another podium yeah? I‘ll be cheering you on from home.“

”I‘m sorry Y/N. I need you.“

”You have me, always. But just give me a week, let me calm down, and then we‘ll be back to our old selves. We will get over this and we‘ll be fine.“

He nodded and looked at you, his red watery eyes made you feel guilty, but now you needed to think about yourself. So you grabbed the handle of your luggage, put your free hand on his cheek, pressed your lips to his for a kiss, and stepped through the door.

”I love you, Lando, keep me updated.“

”I love you too Y/N. Please be careful.“

”Always.“

So when he closed the door behind you, one tear fell down your cheek but you wanted this and now it’s too late to go back. Your Uber drove you to the airport and you grabbed a mask, sunglasses and pulled your hood up, hoping that no one will notice you or at least recognize you. You loved meeting Lando’s fans but you just wanted to listen to your music while you waited for your flight to board. But luck wasn’t on your side today, while you waited for your flight to board, you saw multiple photographers taking pictures of you and you pulled your hood more into your face hoping they wouldn’t catch a glimpse of your face. You still cried a lot earlier and you did not look like your best self right now.

After your plane finally boarded and left the airport, you took a deep breath. Ready to relax at home with your family.

f1gossip

22,827 likes

Y/N was seen in the Airport! We don’t know where she is going but she clearly does not wanna be recognized. People that waited in line with her said, that she cried the whole time while waiting. Is our favorite couple now actually over? We have no confirmation, but we‘ll update you, when we know something

two days later

/////////////////////////////

You smiled when you left the plane, you had missed Lando terribly over the last week. That showed you how you guys were meant to be.

Your new song ’Reckless’ was a banger, everybody loved it, little did they know you already wrote a new one.

Lando told you, that he would wait for you in the entrance hall and drive you back home.

So when you got your luggage and went to the entrance hall you searched for the familiar face. But you just spotted a huge bouquet of flowers and behind them, was his beautiful grinning face. So you run the last meters to him and embracing him in a tight hug, hearing the sounds of cameras clicking, you didn’t care, you needed to feel him close to you. So when you broke the hug and looked into each other's eyes, you kissed. Just a quick one, you didn’t want to have a make-out session on the internet.

”I am so happy to be back“, you whispered in his ear.

”You have no idea how much I missed you. Let’s go home, I wanna show how much I missed you.“

f1gossip

25.729 likes

Lando and Y/N at the airport! Y/N arrived back in town a week after leaving, Lando waited with a huge bouquet for her and they shared this bone crashing hug after seeing the other. So is our otp back again? We hope that they‘re happy!

y/nusername added to their story!

Boy, I heard my name's on the tip of your tongue

You knew how badly Lando wanted to call you every day when you were in your home country. He texted you every morning that he wished you were next to him. Reporters tried not to ask Lando about the rumors but it was almost impossible. He just wanted to scream in everybody’s face that you guys were good and didn’t break up.

And I'm empty too, if that is what you want

But the truth is, you weren’t better. Your mum wanted you to leave asap, the crying of how much you missed him became unbearable for your family.

And I looked into your eyes and you're the one

When you FaceTimed and saw him, you knew he was the one. He was your love, your person, your everything.

That I wanted, baby, that I wanted, baby, that I wanted

You wanted him so bad, no, you needed him. You needed him because without him you couldn’t really function.

It's a haunting, baby, that I'm wanting

Baby, that I'm wanting, wanting you

Haunting, baby, that I'm wanting, baby, that I'm wanting

It scared you how much you wanted him. You sat late at night on your childhood bed and thought about the first time you brought Lando here. Everybody loved him and accepted him into the family. You needed him and it was scary.

And I lose my mind tonight over you

Thinking back to the time, you started fuming. How the press played such a big role in the whole thing, they made you believe things that weren’t even true.

Devil in a dress, I'ma love you like I do

You still loved him, even when all the ugly articles and rumors started to come up, you still loved him.

Follow the white rabbit to see the truth

You talked with Lando and he showed you what really happened. With all the stupid rumors, you believed him. The articles were a way to distract you, to show you the wrong way, to believe the wrong people but in the end, you saw the truth.

And my patience is now setting like the sun

When Lando arrived back on Monday, you had a panic attack but you were also impatient. Wanting to hear what he had to say, what really happened, whether it would be good or not.

When my tears fall on your lap, we've just begun

You don’t remember the attack you had, but Lando later told you how you cried in his arms while he tried to calm you down. It was the beginning of the conversation, what a great start. Not.

And by now, I know the damage has been done

The time will never be able to be reversed. Nothing can and will ever repair the scars you got from this. He still hung out with a girl while you sat lonely in your shared flat. It happened and you can’t do anything to undo it.

That I wanted, baby, that I wanted, baby, that I wanted

It's a haunting, baby, that I'm wanting

Baby, that I'm wanting, wanting you

Haunting, baby, that I'm wanting, baby, that I'm wanting

Lando told you, that he was scared of how much he missed and wanted you to come home. You laughed about it, feeling the exact same. It was scary how your minds were connected and felt the same as the other one was feeling.

Follow the white rabbit to see the truth

You were glad how things worked out. That showed you how strong your relationship is, that even after this scandal, you still found your way back to each other. It also showed you how important talking with each other was. Talking is key and you are glad you are in a relationship where you talk about things.

———————————————————————————

taglist: @mrsmaybank13

[calliesmemes]

DARKNESS STILL HAUNTS YOUR NARRATIVE

ASSORTED ASKBOX PROMPTS from various sources with dark and / or unsettling themes. The ominous feeling from before is still there, and its prominence has only grown …

* TRIGGERING THEMES MAY BE PRESENT, such as death, wealth inequality, and war. Please exercise caution and curate your space accordingly.

CHANGE gendered words and in-universe phrases as needed

SPECIFY muse for multimuses

❛ When I look at a person, I see a person — not a rank, not a class, not a title. ❜

❛ What a strange girl you are. ❜

❛ History is written by the rich, and so the poor get blamed for everything. ❜

❛ I could corrupt you. It would be easy. ❜

❛ How many centuries deep is your wound? ❜

❛ You’ll be remembered more for what you destroy than what you create. ❜

❛ Bitter are the wars between brothers. ❜

❛ Power comes with a price. ❜

❛ Your power might destroy you if you don’t learn to control it. ❜

❛ I’m not going to let you anywhere near a battlefield! ❜

❛ War is sweet to those who have never fought. ❜

❛ Cowardice is everywhere in this country. ❜

❛ Which appeals to you more? Power, or love? ❜

❛ Inside my head, the war is everywhere. ❜

❛ You look like your grief and guilt and rage are eating you alive, bit by bit. ❜

❛ Good and evil are a question of perspective. ❜

❛ The only difference between martyrdom and suicide is the press coverage. ❜

❛ Your place is at home; you will fight another day. ❜

❛ How many more children do we have to sacrifice in this war? ❜

❛ When you talk to the dead, the dead will talk back. They’re always there, even if you can’t hear them. ❜

❛ I am half child, half ancient. ❜

❛ You’re like me. You’ve seen too much, too young. ❜

❛ Every word from your mouth, every turn of phrase, will be judged — and possibly used against you. ❜

❛ I prefer the most unfair peace over the most righteous war. ❜

❛ A love like ours could burn down a city. ❜

❛ In my experience, men only call women ‘mad’ when they are doing something inconvenient. ❜

❛ I will do anything to keep you safe from harm. ❜

❛ You wield an incredible amount of power with just your voice. ❜

❛ You know, everything old can be made new again. Like democracy. ❜

❛ You laugh like a little girl, and think like a martyr. ❜

❛ What is a home if not the first place you learn to run from? ❜

❛ Do you understand what it means when you have nowhere else to turn? ❜

❛ The war is never over. ❜

❛ We are products of our past, but we don’t have to be prisoners of it. ❜

❛ I dream of the past as if it were yet to come. ❜

❛ You have endured terrible suffering, haven’t you? ❜

❛ Your beauty terrifies me. ❜

❛ This is war — you never know who’s listening. ❜

❛ This is a land of dreams and madness, where childrens’ stories come to life. ❜

❛ The Earth is littered with the ruins of empires that believed they were eternal. ❜

❛ I’ll never get used to being alive. ❜

❛ We’ve been fighting this battle for too long. ❜

❛ We swore we’d never bow to tyranny. ❜

❛ Young men fall, I see their agony. ❜

❛ We all carry things inside us that no one else can see. ❜

❛ Your suffering can’t end until you stop identifying with it. ❜

❛ You have to be a bit of a liar to tell the story the right way. ❜

❛ I’m so afraid of losing something I love that I refuse to love anything. ❜

❛ You collect scars because you want proof that you’re paying for whatever sins you’ve committed. ❜

❛ You can escape reality, but you can’t escape the consequences of escaping reality. ❜

❛ Is that all you want to be? Liked? Wouldn’t you rather be passionately and voraciously desired? ❜

❛ Sorrow found me when I was young. ❜

❛ The very heavens conspire against me! ❜

❛ Do you like the person that you’ve become under the weight of living? ❜

❛ The evil that men do lives on long after they themselves have gone. ❜

❛ You are not safe here. ❜

❛ I don’t know any places I can hide from the voices that are tearing me apart from the inside. ❜

❛ I am not a legend; I’m a fraud. ❜

❛ Destiny is a worrying concept. I don’t want to be fated; I want to choose. ❜

❛ I am not merciful, and I am not kind. ❜

❛ Until the lion learns how to write, every story will glorify the hunter. ❜

❛ Vulnerability is courage in you and inadequacy in me. ❜

❛ You cannot save people. You can only love them. ❜

❛ This isn’t going to be like last time. ❜

[jokeroutsubs]

[📝ENG TRANSLATION] Bojan Cvjetićanin: We miss our family members the most (Suzy)

Original article written by Tomaž Mihelič for Slovenske novice on 08.11.2024, PHOTO: Vita Orehek, Mediaspeed. English translation by a member of JokerOutSubs, review by @kurooscoffee, proofread by IG Gboleyn123

Already living the dream of every rocker in your early twenties is unimaginable to most. But not for Joker Out.

Full article under the cut 👇

Bojan is very attached to his mum. (ph: Mediaspeed)

08.11.2024 at 06:00

Upon release of their newest album, we spoke with the singer and songwriter, who told us how radically their lives have changed in the past year, revealed the pitfalls of fame and told us why there aren't many reasons to be optimistic. We also found out who the boys miss the most when they are away from home for months at a time.

“In the last year and a half, we have already completed five tours in Slovenia and Europe. We are slowly heading towards the next one. I have to admit, it’s an incredible feeling when you make your childhood dreams come true,” a good humoured Bojan starts the conversation. “It seems like science fiction to us and we still haven’t quite managed to get used to these previously unknown dimensions. It takes our breath away, when we arrive somewhere new, in a different country, and the crowds collectively sing in Slovene for an hour and a half,” he tries to describe his impressions.

The most precious moments are those with family. Apart from sister Tijana and mother, paediatrician Dr. Snežana Cvjetićanin, the only one missing in the photo is the father, senior doctor Branko Cvjetićanin. (ph: Mediaspeed)

“We are marching quickly towards an inevitable doom. Why false optimism, when we see innocent children being slaughtered while those responsible turn a blind eye?"

As brothers

He says it's hard to get used to them not being home. It is a special strange feeling, not only for them, but also for the fans who are preparing for their performance in good faith and are dutifully learning this foreign language they’ve never heard before. “Maintaining close contact with our fans requires an enormous amount of energy, but they give it back to us in abundance, so there is pure love flowing between us. We've had our share of challenges, especially among ourselves, because we spend a lot of time together with the boys. It is no longer a friendly or business relationship, but a kind of partnership. Maybe it's more appropriate if I say that we are like brothers," outlines the close ties between the five musicians.

“The moods flow from very beautiful to friction, frustrations, creative holes and successes. There are ups and downs and you have to be able to navigate between them. In principle, we have not allowed our ego to take the lead. If you process and filter your concerns on the fly, they are easier to control. At the same time, we have producer Žare Pak with us as a kind of psychotherapist. An immense help to us are also genuine relationships with colleagues from the industry, as we learn and resolve many things through conversations with them. Sometimes you even inadvertently get some useful advice,” he smiles.

“It's really bizarre that we sell out halls like that and the best 'tourbus' you can afford is waiting for us in the car park. We hired it with our own money and our own achievements.”

When you don’t feel at home at home

It's a great achievement to be able to make a living from music these days. Let alone that you manage to do it while you're still studying. Joker Out are the exception, not the rule. But every triumph carries consequences, especially in enormous emotional ranges. From the euphoria, when thousands of people are screaming in front of you, to the emptiness that occurs backstage or in a hotel room. “What confused me the most was the feeling that at home, I no longer felt homely anymore because we had been abroad for so long. I was really lost, that's when my parents and sister came to my aid. We are a very close family, we talk openly about everything and these relationships save lives. Mother's food and advice, father's wisdom, Tijana's sincere hugs have healing power,” he says gratefully.

The author of all of the lyrics and the first voice of the band is happy to have a genuine brotherly relationship with the boys. (ph: Vita Orehek)

Having never travelled much before, he wasn't used to spending weeks away from the safety of home. “The circumstances of literally living out of a suitcase for a year and a half turned everything upside down. When I returned to Slovenia, it seemed strange to me that I had to get used to the fact that we wouldn't be going on the road for a while. I had to give it time. A few laps around Ljubljana and the proximity of best friends was enough for everything to fall back into place.”

Following the paths of world legends

He can be relieved that he is not subject to the various temptations that characterise extreme emotional fluctuations. On the one hand, fame and public expectations, on the other, inner struggles and the desire for privacy. “It seems to me that it is all a result of upbringing. My parents instilled in me the right amount of self-confidence, a healthy self-image and trust in myself and those closest to me. This is the foundation for solving any problem. Once I got rid of the panic attacks on stage, I found contact with my old self. Switching between private and crazy stage dynamics has fortunately never been a problem for me,” he says honestly. For the lay public, it is good to point out that Joker Out performs at iconic venues in European capitals.

They drive around in the grand buses we see in the movies, but for them it's all reality. “And none of this has changed us to the point of rising above the others. We still keep our essence: authenticity is the most valuable. A few times we've had to literally pinch ourselves when we've arrived at some legendary club where bands like the Rolling Stones, Led Zeppelin and the like once played, and now we're standing on that stage. Before the concert, we got our hands on a book with the signatures of the performers and could hardly believe that our name would now be among them. It's really bizarre that we sell out a venue like this and the best 'tourbus' you can afford is waiting for us in the car park. We rented it with our own money and our own achievements,” marvels Cvjetićanin. As a result of the aforementioned panic attacks, he has not been able to truly appreciate all that he has received, and during a retrospective of the last period, he points out: “Even as children, we did not dare to imagine that one day we would experience all this.”

Nothing fell from the sky

And how do they keep from being blinded by all the glamour? “In reality, there is no luxury at all. We don't have luxury cars and villas waiting for us at home. We are not treated to economic excess. We still go home to the same people. I am sure that none of us is predisposed to become a total jerk if he had a euro more in his bank account. We are by nature very diligent and hard-working. We do get lucky sometimes and things work out in our favour, but that would not be the case if we were bored and waiting for something to fall out of the sky. We have always strived for success and we are proud of the results we have achieved so far. Now we have to find a common sense limit as to when we are satisfied. When we can say to ourselves that we are happy with what we have and not endlessly strive for more. What makes me happy is creating, making music, hanging out with quality people, good food, getting a good night’s sleep, which I manage to catch despite my busy schedule,” he winks mischievously, before we focus on his love. Song writing. Some authors are constantly under pressure to produce a hit.

Joker Out uses music to draw attention to current issues in our society. (ph: Primož Lukežič)

Is he one of them? “No way! I don't make music to please other people, it has to vibrate for me first. There is no such thing as a good song. It's subjective to taste. You can talk about pressure when you have to finish an album. There are time constraints and a vision of how we want to present ourselves as a band. Here, we are faced with chasing compromises and healthy, middle ground to make sure everyone is happy with the product. Time is the biggest enemy of all creatives. Especially those who have a project in mind. There's always too little of it,” he says.

Why false optimism?!

Joker Out's songs carry important messages. They will not give up this principle. Although, for the first time ever, we will see a little pessimism on the new album. “Inspiration comes from all sides and the theme is self-confessional. It's not hard to find inspiration to write nowadays. We live in terribly 'messed up', hypocritical times, where something is happening on every front. I am a sentient being and the horrors in the world touch me quite a bit. We also deal with such topics. There are so many injustices happening globally every day that deserve a voice, but people generally only stand up for those that they feel are important enough. When human rights are clearly violated, we as a band feel compelled to express our opinion. But we don't always do so, because it is impossible, because for every war there are hundreds of others that we as a society simply overlook. We are silent,” he digs at the wound of modern civilisation.

“It takes our breath away when we arrive somewhere new, in another country, and the crowds collectively sing in Slovenian for an hour and a half.”

And what shocks, angers, saddens him the most? “That there are no rules and you can do whatever you want if you have enough power or capital. That everything is allowed and applauded, no matter how bloody it is. The legal world, the rule of law, organisations of any kind are plain bullshit, because the chosen elites do not have to abide by any laws”, he is blunt and horrified that new generations have to bear the consequences of greed. “We have come so far as a community that it affects creativity. With one song, for the first time, I went into complete pessimism, with no turn to positivity. It's a story in which I express fear and distrust that things could be better. We are marching fast towards the inevitable doom. Why the false optimism when we are witnessing live the slaughter of innocent children while those responsible turn a blind eye?” he criticises, before falling silent for a few moments.

Finally, however, he turns to the light, to the forthcoming showcase concert tour.

“We have a lot of rehearsals ahead of us to make sure the songs are familiar under our fingers. We won't have any special fitness training, although some amount of recreation can’t hurt. We don't have any altitude training though, as if we were going to the World Championships,” he laughs and promises to bring back some souvenirs from the trip. “Preferably our Souvenir Pop,” he hints at the title of their album, which will be available from the 15th of November.

“We're still going back home to the same people, and I'm sure none of us is predisposed to become a total jerk if he had a euro more in his bank account.”

[toxicanonymity]

Hey Boo,

I've been seeing Joelkemons making the rounds being the best kind of dude to have around when you're crying.

Is Stepdad is having very strong feelings about all of this too? I imagine of Raider (LOML) and NW are being so soft with us, something in stepdad might respond to our hopelessly impotent rage.

I'd love to see how he reacts.

Boy howdy, tho, if I could slip into the brothel and have a big ol' Joel-pile, that shit would fix me all the way.

Thank you so much for everything you do and are.

I hope you're taking care of yourself too.

-- Cupquake <3

black tuesday

JOEL x f!READER | 1000 words

WARNINGS: 18+. Election Night. ANGST. Tears. Fears. This is intended to be a cathartic fic with some comfort but please don't read if it could be traumatic. Allusions to reproductive rights, etc. Reader is angry, esp. at men, takes it out on joel a little. Joel is supportive. Reader dacryphilia, brief smut. STEPDAD AU but you don't need to know it, and the stepcest doesn't come up.

NOTES: Sweet Cupquake, you're welcome and thank you for always being so supportive. Poor stepdad, he's normally the one needing comforting, isn't he? Yes, he has strong feelings about all this. This doesn't fit neatly in the AU timeline just roll with it. My brief post on the election is here. This will most likely be my only fic that overtly acknowledges the u.s. election. DO NOT INTERACT: TRUMP VOTERS, ANTI-CHOICE PEOPLE, MINORS.

You’re sitting on the floor of your apartment watching the news while Joel makes dinner and a huge mess in the kitchen. When the early votes are counted, we’ll see a lot more blue, they said. No, actually. Not really. You turn the volume way down so you can barely hear it. 

“Pasta’s ready,” Joel announces in a weak, sing-song voice. 

You remain on the floor. Your breathing is shallow, and it doesn’t feel real. 

Joel comes into the living room but doesn’t sit down. He stands with his arms crossed. His neck veins are bulging, his biceps are tense, his jaw clenches as he watches the screen. He’s pissed, he’s so angry watching this happen. He’s embarrassed to be a Texan. He thinks about all the women he knows. Embarrassed to be a man. 

He looks back and forth between the tv and you, and he sees your eyes are watery. He brings your glass of water from the kitchen, but you refuse it. He puts it down on the coffee table. Then, he picks up the remote control and turns off the tv. 

“Why’d you do that?” you snap. 

“It’s only makin’ ya sad,” Joel replies. “It’s still early, there’s time.” 

“Sad?? You think I’m sad?” Heat rises to your face. Your chest tightens.  

“Okay,” Joel acknowledges softly. “I can see you’re not just sad.” 

He sits down and tries to put his arm around you but you scoot over to face him. 

“All you men just go around blowing your loads everywhere and we’re the ones who have to deal with it, and you have the nerve to tell us how.” 

“I’d never tell you how to--you know that.”

“--I am so fucking tired of men talking.” 

“Sorry,” he mumbles, and sits quietly next to you for a minute. It’s hard knowing there’s nothing he can do or say, but he’s not going to leave you unless you tell him to. 

He clears his throat and asks softly, “Would anything make ya feel better?”

“Only waking up from this nightmare.”

“Yeah,” he acknowledges. 

“I don’t wanna feel better,” you begin to cry. “I want it to not happen….Like, is this real life?” 

None of it feels real. Months ago, people in stupid red hats were carrying around actual sperm cups. The highest-profile rapist in the country called himself the father of fertility, and crowds of people cheered. He said “mass deportation” and people cheered more. And then half the country voted for these sick, twisted buffoons. 

“You want some space?” Joel asks. 

“No,” you protest tearfully.

He hesitantly brushes the back of your neck with his thumb. This time, you let him put his arm around you. 

You whisper, “I can’t believe this is happening.” 

“Sweetheart, it ain’t over. We got time.” 

You shake your head no, ‘cause you can feel it in your gut. 

Joel sits in silence for a moment, and you can’t see it, but he’s tearing up because he can feel you burning and he’s powerless. 

He holds you and strokes your back while you bury your face in his chest. He discreetly checks his new york times app and tries not to react out loud- it’s only getting worse. 

After a few minutes of silence, he whispers your name, and you respond, “mm?”

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out. 

You look up to see his cheeks wet, his hair messy. Your heart swells with affection. Affection and… gratitude? God, the bar is in hell. But to be fair, you really love him. You’re grateful for the man he is, not the one he isn’t. 

Desire begins to stir in your chest.

Joel presses a kiss onto your forehead, then lifts your chin, and you look at each other. He brushes away a tear from your cheek. With his own cheeks still wet, he swallows, and the emotional bob of his Adam’s apple sends a rush of arousal to your core. You put your hand on the back of his neck and pull him toward you for a kiss. 

Affection and relief floods your body. It’s temporary, of course, but you let yourself have this. You let the nightmare fade into a spicy dream. 

You straddle him and he pulls you close and moans into your mouth. You kiss him desperately and feel him harden under you. He hesitates and mutters, “sorry,” trying to read the room. He pushes your thighs back, trying to put some distance between you and his hard-on. 

“Stop,” you reply, then latch onto his mouth again. He breaks away and says, “Just don’t want ya to feel like I–” 

“Shut up,” you tell him, then scoot yourself closer, your crotch firmly planted on the warm, stiffening shape in his sweatpants. You grind your hips into him. He kisses you back with increased fervor, and moans into your mouth. Kissing passionately, your loins throb warmly together and your hips move in rhythm. 

You reach between the two of you and slide your hand down his sweatpants. You palm his leaking manhood. Pressing it against his tummy, you gently move the skin on his shaft, and  He groans.

“Fuck,” he breathes, and thrusts against your hand. 

You stand up to urgently take off your pj pants. 

His man-guilt is still eating at him. Squeezing his aching hard shaft, he lets out a moan, then weakly offers, “Are you sure you wanna…”

In response, you straddle him, hot and dripping against his bare arousal.  You slide against him, throbbing and ready. Then, as you slide his tip to your entrance, you warn him, “Get it while it’s on the table.” You sink down on him and he shudders. Then he thrusts upward and moans as he bottoms out.  

“My legs’ll be closed for business soon,”  you explain. 

He closes his eyes and breathes deep as your body accommodates his.  “Fair enough,” he answers thoughtfully, then opens his eyes. “Wait. Even if my face is the customer?” 

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NOTES: I actually wrote three Stepdad things, and chronologically, this is no. 2 of 3. The others aren't posted yet. The first one is a standalone pregnancy scare, nothing about the election (would've been before it). And the second one is a post-election talk about contraception.

My brief post on the election is here.

Thank you for reading. Please remember to take care of yourselves <33