#knowing what it’s like to be a poor kid in a poor exploited family

[mayasaurusss]

Hello, I really liked the way you write about Jinx, can you please write about how femme! the reader and Isha fall into a trap and as a result, while protecting Isha, the reader is injured and Jinx goes into her killer mode (you don’t have to write if you don’t want to) you can just write aftercare if you want

A helping hand

A/N: and here it's finally done! I could have made this oneshot quicker and shorter but then I got chaught up in writing it... and I woke up eight days later with this in my drafts😂. I don't ususally like how I handle stories, but I think that this one turned out pretty good. As mentioned in another post, it's very heavily plot driven and it's a wopping eleven pages worth of writing. My grammar, as always, might not be the top gamma. I hope you guys will enjoy it! Also this was mixed with something someone suggested on ao3!

Contains: female reader, violence, murder, mentions of saliva and vomiting, hurt and comfort, very heavily plot driven, happy ending with a happy family. Lenght: 6k/ 11 pages.

The limited air inside the vent makes you choke on your breath, chemicals and smoke filling your lungs and hollowing your brain. A loud sound echoes inside the metal hull, alerting every one of your senses. "Isha! Be careful!" you whisper-yell at the kid, who's crouching in front of you, placing her hat back on.

She just huffs in response, rolling her eyes before continuing her tour inside Zaun's vents. Isha has not been too fond of you since you entered her life; one reason could be that she thought she had to compete with you for Jinx's attention. The other reason, maybe, is that you were from topside. Piltover, The City of Progress. The city who exploited and hurt the poor citizens of the Undercity. Avid hands commanding from atop marble skyscrapers, grinning smiles sucking away the air of the lanes.

It's no wonder you're not Isha's favorite; Sevika too seemed to have a disdain for you, either because of your privileged position or for the way Jinx was distracted and dreamy when you were near.

To ingratiate yourself into Isha's favours and to make it at least somewhat pleasant for both of you to be near each other, you agreed to follow her in a walk through the lanes.

Jinx had invited you into her own private lair, after much convincing on her part. One day, she just swept you up and brought you down with her, making you walk through fissures, alleys and neon lit streets.

"You should have a tour of The Lanes, y'know, to learn how life's like down here" a flicker of a spark reflecting in her goggles as she made some of her obscure machine-thingies. "So give me one" you said, prompting Jinx to hum in thought. "I am busy today, and Sev' is too. Besides, I don't think you'll enjoy each other's company" she glanced at Isha, who was drawing Stinkmaw on her notebook. "You'll just have to settle for Isha" the kid propped her head up at the mention of her name, already looking with stars in her eyes at Jinx, not aware of your previous conversation. "What do you say Isha? Want to have fun with your new friend? Give her a tour of the Undercity?", Isha sized you from head to toe with a snarl on her lips, eyes moving between you and Jinx while her face became more and more agitated. "Come on, she's not that boring" Jinx moved back to her work, sparks flying and lit up her face, "I should know". Your face grew hot with her words, remembering what happened between you two just weeks prior. Isha gave a disgusted 'ew', before Jinx turned her head to watch the kid, a shadow of anger in her eyes. "No excuses! Come on, just go around a bit, become friends!".

"Jinx I, I don't think this is a wise idea. I mean, Isha is just a kid: what if something happens? I-" Jinx interrupted you, her voice almost lost between the screeching sounds of metal scraps flickering sparks between each other. "You'll both be fine. Isha is a smart kid, she'll get out of any situation. As for you..." she turned to you, a teasing glint in her eyes, "...will you be able to keep up with her?".

'No, not at all' you answer to her mental image, struggling to keep your pace behind Isha. The kid is fast inside these tunnels, and your body is not accustomed to their narrow spaces and to the flow of smoke and waste. The metal feels light and shaky under your weight, giving you the impression that at the slightest of pressure, you will sink beneath and break your ribs into the concrete of just another of Zaun's alleys. You steady on, carefully applying your weight where each border of the metal tubes meet, following the shadow of Isha.

After what feels like ages, you finally spot the end of a tunnel, light shining on the dirty buildings giving it a green hue. Isha crawls towards it, leaving you behind in the dusty tunnels, prompting you to follow her quickly. The kid has already jumped in the street below, adjusting her hat on, turning her back to you while she begins to walk away. You take in a deep breath, calculating the height of your jump, before falling messily on the concrete.

"Ack, shit" Isha gives you a dirty look, "What?". She just rolls her eyes, before continuing on, not waiting for you. The Undercity is just what you expected: crowds of people fill it's street, smoking and squaring you up; sellers shout to lure in buyers, presenting their merch of metal husks, hundreds of different flavours of tobacco and pieces of meat that you'd rather not know from what they came from. At the far corners, gang groups threaten and push against each other, their blades glinting with a malicious look. The streets are lit by bright neon signs, filled with all possible smells and gasses, overcrowded to the point that you're short of breath. Distantly, you can hear the sound of machinery evermoving, of water and air and of shipments departing from shore. The city itself beats and pumps, like a living heart.

Everything is suffocating; too loud, too much. And what's worse is, everyone knows that you don't belong. Their eyes are envious, angry, a dangerous hate barely hidden beneath their scleras. Hell, Isha, the kid who is known to have a kind heart, can barely hide it. For a moment, too caught up in your mind and it's worries, you miss Isha turning around, entering a dark hallway. You follow her blue locks until you're far from people, now only surrounded by high walls and some couples making out in a corner. On one wall there are signs of damage: claws and dents and what looks to be a... strange green goop staining the bricks, along with scraps of metal of an exoskeleton.

You find Isha sitting at the corner where the street opens, back against the wall. You are not too sure what she is doing: after all, she has proved to be rather uninterested in you. What you don't realize, not at first anyway, is that she had run through the crowd into the alley to lure you away from that noisy hell so you'd have time to get used to it. Sliding down next to her, your clothes drag down the dirt and dust of years behind them. Silence feels heavy above your head, the distant sounds of the crowd the only thing keeping you at least a bit sane.

Isha has found a pastime in rolling the hem of her hat on the ground, trying to make a perfect spin with it. The sounds of metal against concrete screech inside the hallway, attracting more than just one pair of eyes. You can feel Isha's reluctance to begin so close to you, probably thinking to herself that it was a mistake waiting for you. When the silence feels too heavy, then you finally speak. "Isha...listen" the hat spinning stops abruptly, it's hem catched between Isha's thumb and index finger. "I know you don't like me" she's surprised that you decided to face the problem right away; it's not something your people are known for. "You've made it all too clear these past days. I know you are wary of me; I know the Undercity is wary of us". The kid's eyes are now on you, studying, squaring you up, detecting any lies that you may hide under your sweet words.

"But... I am not my city. I know what you have been through and I am..." you falter for a moment, thinking that you're starting to sound a little too guilty and invested in this, and that she may recognize this as insincere. "What I meant to say is... I would like to be your friend, if you want to".

Isha doesn't answer you right away, but you see a small smile spread on her lips. You breathe a sigh of relief at successfully bringing down her walls.

She jumps back up, extending her hand to yours, palm open and a curious smile on her face. You take it, careful to not push your weight down on her before you too stand up.

"Come on, let's go home. This is good enough of a tour for me today", you take Isha's hand, ready to walk back to Jinx's, before something clutters inside the hallways, spreading its dull, hollow metal sound everywhere. The sound gets closer and closer, the item of its origin stopping its course at your feet. It's a cylinder shaped, stubby looking object; drawn on its surface are what you recognize to be Jinx's drawings, imitating a grinning gaping mouth of some evil creature. The red light you are so familiar with, the one which with Jinx blows her enemies to bits, is off.

"Well, look what we have here. The runt of that crazed bitch and Piltover's finest trash". From under the fuming tubes, a tall, scruffy looking man shows up. His hair is in a buzz cut style, thin muscles tightly attached to his bones, making him look starved and unkept. Black tattooed run over his forehead and cheeks, giving his sulken eyes even more of a crazed look. His goons all show up after him, exiting from their hidden spots. "What do you want?" you try to sound though, but the wavering of your voice only gives away your fears. Isha hides behind you, clutching tightly at the fabric of your pants.

"Oh we don't want anything from you. But you see..." he reaches to fish something out of his pants. You see it before he shows it: the hem of a knife. He slides the blade out of its sheath, glimmering dangerously in the dark. "...that darling bitch of yours took something from us. Well, to be honest, someone. Someone very dear to our group" you look in between you and Isha, then at the distance between you and the goons, trying to think of an escape.

"What do you mean? How do you know Jin-" he laughs creepily, a little too high for your tastes, echoing between the walls. "How do I know Jinx? Everyone knows Jinx!" he gesticulates with the knife still in his hand, dangerously close to hitting himself in the eye with it. He inspects the blade with something dark inside his thoughts, dulling the colour out of his eyes. With a creepy and disturbing smile on his lips, he runs his finger along the line, blood trickling down its shape. He seems to take a sick kind of pleasure from seeing red staining the metal. "I gotta give it to her though, she really aimed high: fucking someone from Piltover is something none of us would dirty ourselves trying to".

A vein under your skin pumps blood into your brain faster, giving you the prospect of an annoying headache, "Watch that tone-". "Never thought that that small, smart runt would become what she is today. Powder really outdid herself", you don't miss the cruel smirk which paints his lips, enjoying infecting your relationship with Jinx. "Powder?" the name doesn't ring a bell, and you're left with the man's ominous eyes peering into your heart, telling you that 'you don't know anything'.

"Oh look, trust runs so deep between you two that you don't even know her real name! Did you really think a parent could ever name their child 'Jinx'?" the rest of his group laughs and mocks you like their leader is, like a hoard of sheep follows their shepard. "I don't need to know her name. If there is a reason why Po- Jinx is keeping her real name a secret from me, I am not gonna pry it open from her" you can feel your heart pump blood faster into your veins, that small headache becoming stronger and stronger as anger takes hold of your actions. "Mhm? Just like she kept her family's deaths a secret?" those words feel heavy when he speaks them, clearly holding some truth behind them. You try to remain calm but anger and fear are affecting your judgment. "W-What? What the fuck are you talking about?" their ugly laughs fill your ears, only aiding in alimenting the fire at your heart. "After our little...fight, he changed. He started to hang out with the wrong people, doing the wrong things..." slowly, ever so slowly, all of them start to circle around you. One, two, four, six of them, sporting grinning smiles, stalking you like hyenas.

"But he would have been the same has always, even if he had become dumber than he was. He would have been alive too, at this moment, if Vander hadn't intervened". None of what this man is saying makes sense to you. He's talking to you, but his words are meant for others: for his friends, for Isha, for Jinx. You, once again, are reminded that you're not welcome here. In their eyes, hate and hunger swirl, creating a whirlwind that sucks away at your courage, "Just...what do you want from me?!".

"Jinx and that sister of hers took our friend from us. Our boss. Now-" with mastered precision, he makes the blade jump from his hands, now it's tip pointing towards the ground. Something that you can only describe as burning hatred and killing intent paints his features, before he screams a rallying cry, "It's our turn taking everything from her!".

That is enough for the whole lot of them to pounce. One moment, and they are all on you; punching, kicking, twisting your hair in their grasp, snarling and mocking. In the confusion you lose Isha, not being able to distinguish her blue locks in between all that green and grey. For a split second, after they consume their gloves on you, no one is holding you down. You take the occasion to slip away from their grasps, falling backwards into the opening street. You take a second to choose what to do, and as you run towards the crowd once again, following where you assume Isha went, a feeling of anger rises in your stomach. The sound of the busy street echoes, a distant reminder that you have a life to return to, but something tugs at your heart to look at them in the eyes. Blood pumps fast in your veins, alerting every muscle, every bone, every fiber that danger is near, you need to go, but your heart, brain, the pride you take in begin still alive overtakes your judgment. You stop to look at them, the prospect of a challenge in your eyes, of saying 'Look at me!' and incite them to follow 'I am still alive!'.

They look like ravenous beasts, hunched backs and gleaming eyes, angry snarls on their faces, hate coursing through their veins. The leader of the group, the scruffy looking one, fishes something from his back and places it on the bottom of his face: it's a mask, made with grey metal and sprayed with fake golden accents to give it a more classy look. On the side there's a circular opening with a single point in the centre. He takes a syringe and inserts it in the hole, pushing the top down and filling the hollow cavities of the mask with purple gasses. He takes in a deep breath, eyes rolling backwards, before his body goes through a strange change, twitching and moving like he had been shocked. When he looks back at you his eyes are a deep, neon pink, the same shade of colour that paints Jinx's eyes. He moves towards you, pushing and snarling at his friends like a dog with rabies, breaking their bones on the walls, before, with all the air in his lungs, screams, "I'm going to enjoy skinning that piltie's clean skin away from your body!".

You don't make it far before, with an uncanny precision, he throws his blade towards you like a spear, metal sinking inside of your left side, dangerously close to your kidney. A gasp leaves your body before you fall on the floor, blood oozing from the wound. Hundred of needles pierce at your flesh, blood paints the concrete and your mind fuses with the flesh of your brain. Then it all stops; you're back in the alley, cold spreading from the wound throughout your body, followed by a unbearable heat. The blade is snatched from your side, an ear shattering scream erupting from your throat. He is on top of you, already inching the knife to the base of your neck, planning to stab you there, wanting to see the life leaving your body in the most gruesome way possible. "I can't wait to see the look on your girlfriend when I am going to bring her the eyes of her most loved!".

"Bye bye, piltie" you brace yourself for your end; you can almost already feel the knife lodged in your throat, but nothing happens. You hear the sound of a metal hulk resonating in the hallway, before he is knocked down by something thrown with force against his face. You recognize it to be the exoskeleton of the arm you saw before, lying around. The rod which was the building foundation for its making has been thrown on the man's ugly bat-like nose, making him bleed red.

Isha stands behind you, still in launching position, before she runs over to you and tries to help you up. When you do, white behind your eyelids blinds you, pain making your head spin. He gets up again, an animalistic wild look in his eyes. He moves again, muscles hardened with purple veins running along them, drool falling down the space between the mask and his skin. Before he can assault you again, Isha throws something at him: the bomb he himself kicked before, the one Jinx had made, moves through the air, soon to be the second object to hit his ugly face today. He recognizes the object and pales when he sees a red light zipping faster and faster, its grinning mouth inching closer to him.

A colorful light shines on the walls, paint of blue and pink shades falling down like rain; sparks of fire following the natural course of an explosion, fading out of existence a moment later. You run with Isha, hand in hand, away from this horrid place. This time, you don't look back.

A trickle of sweat falls down Jinx's temple while her eyes are focused on connecting two tubes of plastic together. Electricity flows through them, sending sparks flying dangerously close to her skin, before they are connected by the metal snaps on each of their ends. Jinx smiles as her creation takes its first movements, loudly clapping two copper coloured, round, small discs together, before stopping once again. Her fingers twist the key positioned on its back and the mechanic monkey comes to life once again. When her work is finally done, she puts it next to the other one she made hours prior.

The one meant for Isha is coloured with golden accents and decorated with graffitis all over. When turned on, it quickly smashes the plates against each other and plays an off-tune punk song if the button on its right leg is pushed; its eyes are golden, mimicking Isha's own. The one meant for you is far softer than the first: soft shades of pastel mix together with Jinx's characteristic pink, swirling your colours together. Instead of plates, it has a small, roughly knitted red heart in its hands. The left eye shines bright pink, while the other mirror's yours. There are no graffiti on it, except for a small heart on its chest, one near 'your' eye and a 'Jinx' on its left side.

She can't wait to see the look on your eyes when you will see it. She could never quite well express affection like other people do, so giving you gifts was what she did best. Just as she dreams of your face, she hears quick, loud steps coming closer and closer to her. "If you are Caitlyin, I appreciate your obsession with me, but I am in the middle of-" she recognizes Isha's laboured breaths and your pained groans before she can finish the phrase. And when she turns around, her face pales and her blood freezes. Isha has a panicked look to her face, one that she had never seen before; and you? Sweat falls with heavy tears down your face, the shade of your skin so much paler than it usually is, making you look almost dead. Your hand is tightly clutched on your side, where your hand is stained with...blood?

In a fraction of a second, Jinx is on you, hands checking at every curve of your body, focusing on places you might be hurt, while she asks question upon question, filling the air with a sense of urgency. You can only describe the look in her eyes as pure dread. If you didn't groan with pain every few seconds, you'd think Jinx was the one to have gotten hurt. The next few minutes are a whirlpool of movements and colours, making you spill your lunch on the floor. Soft fabric meets your back, suddenly naked with only your bra to cover your chest. Blood oozes faster out of you and you can feel your conscience leaving. Nothing else besides the red on your skin and the blurred shades of blue and brown exists for you.

"...ont worry, I al... got m... sis...er out of ...ble". When after wetting your wound with water, Jinx presses gauze on your body, you are suddenly brought back to life, violently. It feels like someone is crushing with all their might on you, despite Jinx applying the right pressure to the wound. If someone were to walk in right now hearing your screams, they'd think you were begin murdered. After what finally feels like an eternity, you are lying again on her bed, almost lifelessly. You don't have time to answer Jinx's questions, before you fall into a deep slumber.

Half an hour passes by, and the world seems sealed in a bubble of silence. Nothing moves. nothing makes noise, nothing happens. The only thing that does make noise are the voices in Jinx's head, screaming loudly at her for having let you go alone. 'You should have been there', 'See what happens when you let people into your life?', 'She is hurt. She might die. It's your fault'.

Their loud screams are enough to make one go crazy, but despite how confused she is, Jinx finds a will in herself to speak, to silence them. With her hand, she nudges Isha, getting her attention, and mouths "What happened?".

Isha doesn't answer. Her eyes burn holes into the metal of the helix, bottom lip tightly sealed under her teeth, before something in her breaks. She rushes in Jinx's arms, hiding herself into her chest, crying until the tears are gone and her throat is raw. They stay together, tangled into one another, for a while, until their bodies are cold. "Isha, what happened?" Jinx repeats.

Isha gets up, running over Jinx's desk and returns with two different coloured pencils. On the ground she draws a scene: you and her, hand in hand, with frowning faces; behind you six grinning figures, one taller than the rest. Green splattered on the ground and high walls. Jinx recognizes this place immediatley; she's been there just a couple of weeks prior.

Walking to her desk, she grabs her trusted gun and more than a dozen of bullets. A deep, hateful scowl paints her features, eyes shining brighter than usual.

Tonight, the undercity shines and roars with fervor. Its lights shine bright and the shouts of its inhabitants brings it to life, beating strong, like the heart of a dragon. The city seems to sway in tandem with Jinx's white cape, almost bending to her will but also shielding her, hiding her in its crowds. This is home. This is all Jinx has ever known and ever will. She knows it's streets like the palm of her hand: where to leave her mark, the highest places she can reach from which she can put a bullet in between her enemies eyes, which vents and tunnels will take her back home.

She knows exactly where you had been hurt, and if her predictions are correct, they're waiting for her there. And she's gonna give them what they want. The allway is far too serene to be one of the city's main ways out to the perimeter where steel factories and shipments are. It's uncharacteristically quiet, and by Zaun's rules, that means danger.

Jinx steps on the green gooey substance, observing the dripping of your blood leading to the city's main street, and anger boils inside her at that view. The square is empty, except for a series of tubes and a pitfall to its left. Just as she thought, she begins to hear steps coming into her direction. They had been expecting her.

"If you weren't trying, and failing, to ambush me, I'd say you have a crush" the man behind her simply scoffs, his breath coming out ragged and metallic from under his mask.

Jinx turns around to see a tall man, breathing through what she recognizes to be a mask that henchmens of shady organizations wore to enhance their physical abilities. After a moment, she recognizes blood staining the man's pale skin, half of his left hand blown off, rudimental replaced with a metal prosthesis at the last minute. She can ignore that just fine, but the exposed muscle of his left cheek makes her want to puke. "Wow, and you're even more grotesque than I thought" a cruel anger swirls inside her eyes, her lips curling up in a snarl. "What? Were you so anxious to try to kill me that you couldn't even let your wounds heal?" he laughs at her words, men closing in on her much like they did hours prior to you.

"We were waiting for you, Powder" the mention of that name pangs at her heart. Subtly, she touches the top of her gun, ready to draw it at the first sign of danger. "I figured. How do you know my name?" "A man can know much...if he is in the right place, at the right time" he falls silent when Jinx laughs at his words, anger making a vein in his head pop. "Damn. I thought you were pathetic already, but this whole 'supervillain' talk only makes you seem more of an ass than you already are" much like Jinx, he grabs the death of his knife. At the sign, his men form a half circle around the blue haired criminal, directly closing the only way out. "You won't talk all that shit after I sink my blade in your throat" she can't help but feel compassion for these poor bastards. Faintly, she can already feel their blood falling on her skin while putting bullets between their eyes. "I would like to see you try" she changes her body stance, right side facing them while she takes out her gun with her left hand, making a show of placing the bullets in. Unlike what she thought, they do not follow her; instead, the leader seems relaxed as ever. His dark eyes reflect hers and for a second Jinx can see a dangerous, maniacal glint in them and a cruel grin on his lips.

"Oh I did try, and succeeded, with your little piltie bitch-girlfriend" her breathing stops, heart missing a beat, and time seems to stop for a moment, before it all starts to spin again, faster and faster as she gets angrier and angrier. "You should have heard her screams. The sweetest I've ever heard" she imagines you, clutching at your side, tears in your eyes and spit falling off your mouth; begging for him to leave you alone, to let you go. His features are lost under a black veil and painted over with a red open mouthed smile and tight eyes, not unlike the monsters that she has to fight with every night, as he raises the crimson blade and-.

"Don't you fucking dare" her throath feels raw when she speaks, almost as if she's spewing pure black hatred with each word. "Or what? What are you going to do?" 'He thinks he's the shit, huh?', she thinks, loading the storage to the brim and finally raising the barrel of her gun to aim on his forehead. "I am going to enjoy blowing your brains out"

'No one hurts the people I love'.

The next few seconds are a blur of colours and movement. Her body moves before her mind can understand what is going on. She ducks under something coming at her, kicking at the figure and sending them flying a few feet away from her. Someone pulls at her braids and she yelps, momentarily confused; in a fraction of a second, she blows their hand off, crouching and punching in the face a second figure. The blood on the ground, spilling from the screaming man gives everything a shape again and she's back to the alley. Three men are down, two unconscious and one debilitated. The remaining ones look at her up and down, before the leader nudges them, kicking their shins.

One of them takes a metal rod from his side and swings wildly at Jinx, paying no attention to where he hits. She dodges him with no effort and when he stops momentarily to rest his arm, she knocks his weapon from his hands and hits him in the neck with it, white replacing the colour of his eyes. The other, after seeing the bodies of who used to be his companions, runs away, leaving his leader behind; but before he can make it far, a bullet runs fast through his chest and he falls to the floor, lifeless.

He is the last one standing. "Heh, you call yourself a leader, but you couldn't even save your men". His teeth grind harshly against each other, sending jolts of pain through his mouth, "Shut the fuck up".

But Jinx doesn't. No, she's going to enjoy torturing the life out of this fucker like he did to you. "You didn't even lift a finger. I didn't know Zaun could have such a coward walking through its streets".

He finally snaps, spit flowing out of his mouth as he screams, staining the mask inside "I said shut up!". He breathes in the chemical Jinx is so familiar with, huffing purple clouds out of the mask with a metallic sound. Once again, he feels the rush of the substance in his lungs, blood circling small purple bubbles throughout the body, strengthening his muscles and blanking his mind. But this time, his body starts to twitch and shake, slipping out of his control.

The heart beats faster, the lungs lose their air and move erratically, blood flows freely through his body and bones morph, stretching and breaking and strengthening. His muscles cannot be sustained by the bones anymore, and he falls to the floor. The space inside his ribcage feels tighter, his lungs can only provide so much until finally, his body stops changing and he can stand up, much taller than Jinx now.

The blue haired criminal looks incredibly unimpressed with her opponent's new shape, her eyes studying his moments and planning the next few seconds. That grotesque creature lunges, pushing his whole weight on the top of his body, falling messily when Jinx dodges him. She ducks under a clawed swing, rolling through the space between his legs; then, while he is confused and looking for her, aims at his neck.

The bullet lodges itself into the skin, remaining snugly fit between flesh. The scream that leaves him could have woken up the dead. His nails dig into his neck, trying desperately to yank the bullet out, but to no avail. He turns and turns, like a cat chasing its tail, before dizziness gets to him and he falls to the floor, spilling saliva all over the concrete. When he looks around once again, he is face to face with Jinx's gun, staring at the black hole of the barrel. "You made a mistake crossing me, today. Let this be a lesson" she tilts the gun until it's flat against his forehead. He is not capable of forming words anymore, they die at the base of his throath, leaving only emptiness behind. For a moment, she can see in his eyes something that resembled her, many years ago: a scared animal, one that does not understand what their fate will be. But when her mind reminds her of how viciously he attacked you, and how you are lying in her bed, with no assurance that you'll wake up, anger bubbles once again behind her eyes, clouding her thoughts.

"I'm sorry" is all that he hears, before his body falls to the floor, life leaving his eyes.

Her heart feels cold, as well as her body and mind. Jinx, in her own kind of weird way, is already trying to make peace with the fact that, once she comes back home, you might be gone. All too often in her life she had to come to terms with the death of her loved ones, and all too often, she was directly involved with their demise. She can already picture it: you on the bed, blood staining your clothes and the mattress, Isha on her knees, crying her heart out. She, coming home, seeing your dead body lying on what used to be your little shared creek, shielded by the world, falling to her knees and her heart finally giving out to pain, soon to follow you.

From the crack inside the wall, she can spot the helix of her home, the one she'll soon walk over to reach you. She tries to move, but to no avail: her body doesn't let her. Her muscles are reduced to mush, her legs feel like lead and her heart heaves on her rib cage so much that she had to bend down, clutching at her chest to try and ignore that pain. She could stay here forever, stalling time to this single minute, winding it back over and over and over again, all for the purpose of pretending she's still with you, back in your apartment in Piltover, laying naked on the bed with serene smiles on your faces.

But she can't. Even if she could stop time, right here and now, what could she do? Nothing would change. You'd still be dead, she'd still be heartbroken, the bed would still be cold on your side.

She slips inside the crevice, body molding to its shape, before she is face to face with the entrance to her home. She's so lost in her dread and fear that, for a moment, she doesn't hear the sound of laughter from the inside. When her mind recognized the sound, the pitch of the voice she so longed to hear, tears prickled at her eyes and hope filled her heart. She rushes towards the sound, almost tripping down the helix and falling to her death.

There you are. Laying on the bed, laughing weakly as Isha gesticulates and shouts loudly, imitating some sort of monster. Every little light inside her home has been placed near you, probably by Isha, and lifts your figure with a myriad of colorful shades. You look like a living painting to her.

You can't even process seeing her when she's already on you, touching you everywhere, checking your pulse, grabbing onto your legs to assure herself, to make sure that you...

"Are you... really alive?". You could crumble right here and now under those tearful eyes of hers, so soft and beautiful, looking almost powder blue. You stretch your arms to reach down to her, hugging her close to you; "I am, I am". Jinx takes a moment to process your hug and your words; and when she does, when she's certain that you are alive, that you are okay, her walls crumble away.

She pulls you down towards her, wanting to reciprocate the hug, but impatience gets the better of her and instead pulls herself on the bed, halfway reaching you. Her head rests on your belly, tears staining your clothes when she feels your hand on her back. "I thought-! I thought you-" her words die in her throath when she feels your fingers cupping at her cheek, pulling her to rest on her knees and look into your eyes. "I know, I know. I am okay".

Tears fall freely down her cheeks once again, her bottom lip wavering before she takes refuge in your body, hiding her tears on your lap. "I am so glad! I am so glad...".

Once her tears dry, she pushes herself to look at you, eyes puffy and red. "You are okay" she says, and you're about to assure her once again, but something tells you that she's really talking to herself. She climbs on the bed with you, quickly resting her head on your chest. You can't help but smile at her, ready to cuddle together when you realize you've let someone out of the picture. Isha looks at you both with those big eyes of her, pouting. She knows exactly how to push your buttons.

"Come on kid, get in" come Jinx's words, quickly followed by Isha tangling herself in between your bodies and closing her eyes, sleep already overtaking her. "Man, she sure takes a lot of space" you chuckle, placing your hand on Isha's head and stroking her locks between your fingers, hearing a small contented sigh from her. "Yeah, but she deserves it". A heavy silence fills the space, one that you usually pair up with tranquillity, but who you quickly realize is loud for your lover. "Jinx... I am okay" stopping them from screaming in her ears is hard, but when you are with her, they vanish off of existence. Your voice brings her back to reality, as well as reminding her that you have gotten hurt. Letting herself relax after the storm is something she's not used to. "I know" but she can try.

Starting this conversation will be a pain, you think to yourself, but you need to tell her.

"...He told me your real name, Jinx. And, what you did". Quick snapping sounds, mixed with hushed voices and distant screams fill her head in a second, getting louder by the second. She doesn't find in herself the strength to answer, too tired from the day's events; but nevertheless, listens. She leans on the bed, eyes dark and attentive. The scent of your skin fills her nose and she braces herself for your next words. "But...I don't care".

What?

"I don't know what you've been through, but... I don't need to know. You will tell me if you want to". It all stops. Every sound, every shout or whisper, every heartbeat or pulse of electricity. It seems, for a moment, that all becomes white and quiet, before the world starts to spin again. You feel her strong fingers push you more towards her, one cold hand under your clothes, right where your wound is. "Thank you toots, that means a lot".

Less than twenty seconds of silence later, she's already pestering you with her worries again, "Does it hurt? Do I need to give you som-" you interrupt her, taking her hand in yours. Normally, you would be a little annoyed by her continuous train of words, but she needs to be reassured. She needs to hear it from you, how many times it takes. "I am okay. I just need you here with me".

That seems enough to let her finally bear down her worries and she quickly rests on the bed, eyelids heavy and a yawn in her throath. "...I made you a monkey...gift" she slurrs over her words, already slipping in and out of conciousness. "Oh really?". "Yeah...". You too are about to follow her shortly, and before you let sleep overtake you, you reach behind and place a kiss on her forehead. "Goodnight Jinx" she smiles, catching your lips in a quick peck and pushing her nose in the crevice of your shoulders; "Goodnight toots".

Bonus ----------------

When Sevika came home that night, after her usual gambling and drinking out in Zaun's bar, she certainly did not expect to find the messily tangled body of limbs that were you, Jinx and Isha.

As quietly as she possibly can, she takes the chair Jinx sits on while doing her evil scientist machineries and sits next to your bed. Placing a cigar in between your lips and lights it, blowing the smoke away in the opposite direction. She looks back at the bed, multiple coloured lights shading your peacefully sleeping figures. She stays silent for a moment, before she crouches on her knees and shakes the tip of the cigar, firing crumbling pieces of tobacco down on the floor. "They do look pretty cute".

[wttcsms]

re: this post.

thinking about idol!reader who's a part of the nation's fastest rising girl groups. your group is reaching international levels of recognition, and your agency is running a tight ship. you all have roles to play, and none of you are allowed to deviate from it. as the youngest member, you've been branded as the epitome of innocence; the nation's very own precious angel. what this means is that you're kept on a tighter leash than everyone else. you're not allowed to be seen at clubs, not allowed to be seen out late, not allowed to wear revealing clothes. the media says you (and your other group members) are living the dream. you smile brightly and agree.

it's all a lie. besides the tight leash, there's financial abuse. growing up poor and not being the greatest at school, you picked up a part-time job. at first, to help with your grandmother's debt, but then you started spending it on after-school academies that would help you hone your singing and dancing skills. you spent so much time and money on traveling to auditions and participating in festivals, and finally, you get scouted. when you initially sign on with your agency, you know practically no one in the industry. a young, naive girl whose only family is an elderly, barely-there mentally woman. you're the ideal recruit. you unknowingly sign an exploitative contract where most of your earnings and rights to your image are signed away to your company. you overwork yourself because you need to maintain your position, on top of the outrageous expectations the company has for you. at the peak of your career, everything starts catching up to you. despite being famous and beloved worldwide, you're still in debt and barely getting paid. you live a restrictive, lonely life. your health is in shambles, and during a concert, you faint. this marks the beginning of the end.

it feels like no one is on your side. when you step back from the spotlight, taking the hiatus your agency pressures you to, you try to piece yourself back together again. it might be lonely at the top, but when you're at rock bottom, everyone avoids you like the plague. except for character. pro athlete character who's the only person in this industry who knew you before the fame. the two of you grew up in the same low income neighborhood back when you were kids, but his family ended up moving. he came to your group's first meet n greet, you know. he recognized you; came just to see you (he's always liked you). you pretended not to recognize him because your company doesn't allow personal connections they don't approve of, and with your life + the fact that he has his own fame to handle, you don't want to drag him into your mess. that's one of the last times you ever see him. except now he's texting you after you basically ghosted the world, and maybe, there really is someone on your side after all.

[identityua]

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

BAKING WITH IDV CHARACTERS

━━━━━━━━━��━━━━━━━━━

PAIRINGS: Norton Campbell, Luca Balsa, Victor Grantz & Melly Plinius x GN! Reader (separately)

WARNINGS: Mentions of Norton going through stuff in his lore, Luca’s “fun” time in prison... that's about it.

Send in requests and submissions, It gets boring during breaks in uni:,)

N. CAMPBELL

As seen from the breakfast scene with a rightfully baffled Journalist -- whole grain bread for him is a delicacy. Safe to assume Norton is not just a peasant, he is dirt poor. So poor in fact, he wouldn't be able to afford a popular at the time drink called "Saloop" not even with a tea bag found in the trash pile. That drink can be made even by street beggars, by the way.

Keeping that in mind there is no way he knows how to go about it and what to do. Cooking? That's a different topic. Norton had to take care of his sick family while breaking his back with exploitative labour in the mines. He's got the emergency level of skill for preparing a stew.

Despite the era-specific sexism, he wouldn't be the one for writing kitchen-related work off as "not a man's job". He may be insecure but Norton is not a jerk... at least not in that way. That said, baking is definitely something he sees as an activity for the privileged. Read as anyone with a spare penny in their pocket.

Don't overwhelm him with something fancy like a cheesecake or lord forbid a croquembouche. He wants to experience the rich lifestyle, for sure, but imagine introducing sugar so early on to his virgin taste buds... not a good outcome. Bread might be a good place to start.

Say, one day you approach Norton with a wonderful proposal to bake something together. "What a wonderful bonding experience for couples!" you might think, leading him by the hand into the manor's well equipped kitchen.

Wrong.

For some incomprehensible reason (trying to impress you and compensate for his inferiority complex) Norton all of a sudden decided he is Gordon Ramsay. With a whisk in hand (holding it upside down) and a determined look, he goes into battle. He doesn't need help, Norton never needs help. He is a provider, he's strong, what's a little baking to him?

Reassure this man for the mental health of all the kitchen staff to put the eggs down and to let you help out. He might scoff, argue, complain -- don't take it personally. Norton is a complicated guy though I am sure you know that by now. He does too. Emotional intelligence is not really in the cards here (try to develop some by breathing in coal dust since you were a kid) so he can’t put a finger why he is so upset.

He wants to be vulnerable with you, sure, but there is a blockage. Call it disorganised attachment, inability to regulate emotions, trust issues – whatever it is, it is there. Norton knows he is an inadequate partner and is set on the idea that you deserve better. You’ll need an immense amount of patience even with small tasks like these (hey, you chose this battle not me), however the reward is worth it. A glimpse into a playful man you fell in love with – who smears flour on your nose while you are distracted.

Now, Norton wholeheartedly believes he is someone for tough love. Kisses, hugs, cuddles – that’s all for the “sleazy gentlemen” not a seasoned miner like him. Don’t remind him of the way he curls up by your side like a cat with the mirthiest of grins the moment It’s lights-out in the manor. Norton’s got a reputation to uphold. He tries to convince himself of that by not really providing much closeness during your baking session, other than an occasional ruffle of your hair or a shoulder bump.

Oh how quickly things change If someone else walks in. Anyone is a rival in his eyes. Your friend wanted to greet you and give you a sweet hug? Excuse him, your man’s got a sudden velcro strap attached between you and him. One of the most jealous people on Earth because of his insecurities, so he feels the immediate need to establish his dominance here. How? Nasty glances in the intruder’s direction and pulling you into an impromptu make out session. That’s how he saw his coworkers treat their partners so he assumes this must be the way.

Maybe set some boundaries about that. Or not. I don’t know what you are into…

It might take longer than usual (your lips might be bruise as well) but the two of you will end up baking a nice, fluffy loaf of bread. He will claim that “Of course It’s great, I made it after all!” but somewhere deep inside his chest is squeezing with affection. Norton is not stupid, he can read between the lines and figure out that you know of his weaknesses. Usually, that thought would keep him up at night and gnaw at him until he pushed you far away. So far you would never see him the same way those “coworkers” did when beating the money out of his clenched fists.

However doing something so simple and new with you without judgement – It’s about the only kind of love he can stomach. Pun intended. He’ll eat like half of the bread with no bev, please make sure he doesn’t choke.

L. BALSA

My knowledge of him is minimal but I’ll take a crack at this.

Unlike Campbell, this one grew up in wealth. Fancy balls with those puffy gowns and tuxedos, golden leafed ice cream, all the lovely things that come from an obscene amount of pretty banknotes. You’d think your sweet Luca would surely know how to make some scones? Now why would you ever think that. Of course he doesn’t.

Three causes: he never lifted a finger to cook for himself, he is a man in the Renaissance period(I think) and he simply forgot how to. Memory loss does that. The triple knockout to your proposition. No, thank you, Balsa would rather stick to his inventions. After all, he is utterly and completely obsessed with the technology he builds.

At times like this, you start to think he doesn’t truly care for you at all. What’s the point of trying If some metal bits come before you? Stop, take a breath, and reconsider. Remember the times he would writhe on your shared bed in agony due to his traumatic brain injury. Recall the way Luca would grasp onto you in these vulnerable moments. Just think, would he show the weakest side of himself to you If there wasn’t a deep connection between the two of you?

Unfortunately, you cannot expect a “normal” relationship with this guy. But again, you did sign up for this. So, expect him not to even acknowledge you for the first time you ask to bake together. He is completely entranced with the wires in front of him, fixated on the electricity currents. Sure, Luca will be grumpy when you interrupt his “flow” to ask again but truthfully – It is hard for Balsa to stay mad at you. He will reject like I said beforehand, however here’s the twist.

This little genius will never reject the notion of spending time with you. His love language may be physical touch, words of affirmation, but quality time takes the cake. Pun intended. After spending so much time wrongfully (?) imprisoned, he craves human connection. Human connection that doesn’t involve him being tortured by either the guards or other inmates. Balsa is also terrified of betrayal so he wants to be beside you 24/7. Just in case.

Being at the manor is stressful and traumatic for all participants, so his coping mechanism is to drown in work. Forgive him for that, Luca loves you for all you do and your unwavering support. Therefore, he will propose a diplomatic compromise. You get to bake while he sits at the kitchen table and tinkers with some new device. Deal?

Go ahead and mix the ingridients with your leg propped over his, Luca will appreciate it wholeheartedly. Unfortunately no holding hands before marriage, or simply because it would get in the way of his and your working space. Sure, maybe you don’t get to cuddle by the stove like they do in romantic novellas. But isn’t this so much better, because it is uniquely your lover?

While the pastries bake take a moment to cradle the side of the “Prisoner’s” face in your flour-powered hand. Gently run your thumb over his cheekbone. He will subconsciously lean into your touch without missing a beat. That is just how much Luca Balsa trusts you – his partner. After everything he’s gone through It’s an indicator as bright as a red stop light of the depth of this inventor’s feelings. He doesn’t exactly state it out loud in favour of letting you know that “everyone wants a piece of this handsome genius”. However, It’s obvious to anyone else that you are his sole anchor and reason to live.

You remind him to eat, take a breather, bring him relaxing tea just the way he likes it. You ground him when Luca’s hands shake from the painful memories of the past, you hold him, you console him. In return? He will keep on working, playing this hellish game and at a whim will relocate all of his heavy equipment across the manor to the kitchen – If it means you are happy. Balsa is a dreamer, and he dreams of a future where you are together in your own house, baking in the kitchen with all the fancy equipment you might ever need. Made by him, of course.

Over freshly baked sweets and a cup of tea, your lover will share all of his ambitious ideas running through his mind. He will also take note of the taste in his mouth and urge you to write down the recipe on some paper for him. Why, you might ask? A reminder of the future he wants to build with you to keep in a diary, since it has proven to be much more reliable than his own mind. Luca is dedicated to you just as much as he is to scientific discoveries after all.

V. GRANTZ

Holy yap incoming! This one is my favourite man from the survivor faction.

Can Victor cook? Silly question. Having spent most of his adolescence without much parental support or much human contact – he is highly independent. The Postman is responsible to a T, capable of performing all the housework necessary for survival. Can your lover bake? That’s a different topic in Its entirety.

From his deduction letter It is known that he shares his meals with Wick. Therefore, Victor’s food must be something that a dog can digest. Carbs and starchy foods are not ideal for his little carnivorous friend which leads us to the conclusion that baking is not your partner’s forte.

Out of all characters in this post – he is the hardest to get through to. Come on, Victor is as talkative as a wooden plank. You thought Norton was avoidant? Think again, mister postman here will fight tooth and nail to keep people away from him. So, what happens when you through sheer patience and understanding manage to become his friend? And later on, Victor’s partner? He will never say no to you.

Bake together? For the love of everything, Victor would run into a burning building after you. That’s just who he is – utterly self sacrificing and endlessly brave. The point is, it doesn’t matter what Grantz was doing before you approached him with the wonderful proposition to bake. He will drop everything and promptly nod, following you with Wick at his heel to the kitchen.

Choose a recipe that is dog-friendly beforehand. It would make both of your boys happy. Did I mention that you became Wick’s co-parent the moment his human friend opened up his heart to you? Now you know.

Make sure to properly compliment your postman every time he does something well, like mixing the wet ingredients together at just the perfect speed. Watch as warmth blossoms across his face and your partner faintly nods, muttering a “thank you” with the brightest of smiles. His love language is without a doubt words of affirmation, considering how much linguistics matter to him.

With anyone else, he would take face-to-face conversations with a massive brick of salt. Victor doesn’t trust people not to conceal their intentions, only ever being truthful in letters. With you, It’s different. He knows your pattern of speech does not differ from your writing abilities. You wouldn’t lie to your love, would you? So Grantz has no reason to doubt your praises even If he feels undeserving of them.

Much more playful than others in the manor give him credit for. Victor is not “shy” he is simply reserved and prefers to keep to himself unless in trusted company. He literally voices his dog’s side of the “conversation” don’t be quick to assume your partner can’t have fun. Prepare for harmless tickles and nose flicks, this guy is sweeter than the pastries you two are preparing.

Unfortunately this vulnerability is only available for you to see. The moment someone else enters the kitchen, Victor is social distancing and keeping his eyes down on the baking tray. He’ll let you handle the talking part, occasionally sharing looks with Wick as If saying “Can you believe this?”. He’ll get a “woof” in response from his four-legged friend, which is up to interpretation.

Don’t let your gaze linger a beat too long on the person (without reassuring Victor afterwards) otherwise his train of thought is actively de-railing. It’s not that he doesn’t trust you, of course not, your sweet postman just… thinks you can do better than him. So many options out there for someone as wonderful as you, why stick around him? That’s it, time for Grantz to overthink.

In no way would he pull you away from the conversation, at least not the same way Norton would. As your lover, he respects your decisions and relationships. Just don’t mind the slow slide towards your side of the table and the hand lingering over your fingertips. Squeeze his hand back, and we’re all good, you can carry on.

Regardless of whether someone interrupts your baking session or not, It is an incredibly enjoyable experience. The recipe will be followed to a T, you can count on your partner to take on that responsibility. If you pay close attention, you’ll notice how Victor attempts to plate the “worst” ones for himself. The pastries with uneven edges or a burnt bottom cannot be offered to you in his good conscience.

Make sure those are evenly split between the two of you, feeding your protesting lover a perfectly done piece. The postman will be so flustered at the gesture of you feeding him in public, he’ll forget completely what he was protesting about in the first place.

M. PLINIUS

This one right here. She is the perfect choice for baking together. I don’t know how you managed to bag someone as incredible as Melly but props to you.

Having grown up in poverty and later on married into wealth, she knows how to do it all. Cooking, cleaning, reading, baking – you name it, Miss Melly can probably do it. She has a slight preference for sweets as well, considering her breakfast choices and the fact that she keeps bees. Entomology is quite rewarding when you get to snack on honey from your test subjects.

I imagine It’s quite easy to find your lover busying herself in the manor’s greenhouse, slouched over another specimen of… whatever she is studying. Your proposal brings an immediate quirk to her lips which curl upwards in sheer delight. Melly is quick to offer some freshly collected honey as a healthier alternative to sugar. Of course, your heath is her priority, but getting to show off the efforts of her bees is a nice bonus.

She doesn’t necessarily rush to the oven though, unlike a certain postman… no. Melly has to finish up her tasks and tidy her working space first. Offer some help to make the time go by faster! She’ll be appreciative of your thoughtfulness and follow you to the kitchen – elbows interlocked.

Record-fast preparation for your batch of goods. She’s efficient, adaptable and co-operates well with your actions. Out of everyone mentioned in this post, a relationship with her is the healthiest – and it shows. You two are in-sync with each other, practically gliding across the kitchen like two swans on a pond’s surface. You do know swans bond for life, right?

Miss Entomologist is the epitome of elegance in everything: from thoughtfully brushing your hair out of the way – to whisking the egg whites to reach a perfect fluffy consistency. It’s not hard to tell how much she adores you, her love, her little bug. While reserved, she does not shy away from showcasing affection towards you. Expect the unexpected wrap of her arms around your waist as she whispers compliments through her veil. Don’t spill the batter now!

Quality time and acts of service are her strong suit when it comes to loving, so baking is the perfect way to showcase affection. She is understandably disappointed If someone was to interrupt your bonding time and snatch you away for a chat. It’s hard to notice, but you know her – the slightest tug of her lips downwards. You can only guess the look in her eyes under that veil, that only you ever get to see. Those are the fruits of Melly’s trust you get to reap.

Don’t take it the wrong way, she isn’t jealous in the slightest of your interaction. No, this lady is secure in her attachment and her trust in her lover. Does she appreciate that you cannot decorate the scones along with her because someone was itching to talk? That’s a different question.

If this certain someone was taking way too long than appropriate, then, she would gracefully insert herself in the conversation and ask them to leave. Politely, of course. This woman has a way with words and it is attractive to no end.

Once the delicious treat is served, settle into the secluded garden chairs along with her and a cup of steaming tea. She would spot a butterfly on top of a chrysanthemum and erupt into a passionate rant about this specific one’s traits. The lifespan, the importance to the environment. Please, make sure you listen carefully to this monologue. In moments like these your lover’s soul is bare to the touch. Handle it well.

Melly conceals her face specifically because she wants to be perceived for her intelligence – not her (stunning) appearance. However here, in the manor’s garden along with her most precious beloved, a honeyed scone in hand… it is no grave matter If her veils is lifted by the wind. She won’t rush to pin it down. Instead, you will get to see a sight reserved only for you – Melly’s affectionate eyes. Crinkled at the corners in a sincere smile, a smile that should be appreciated with the earnest of kisses from you.

Not really proofread! If you spot mistakes… oh well.

[yandere-daydreams]

Okok gonna face my fears and send this off anon . . . ♡ I woke up at 6am and have been plagued by the concept of yan!satosugu with idol darling like all morning

Walk with me here okokokokok. So like satoru obviously has like sooo much money. What if just to get a break from focusing on sorcery all the time he became a sponsor or even producer for a very cute girlypop idol group,,, (and yes I do think he would be kinda weird/creepy to idol darling, especially with how he views himself as basically untouchable (I mean he has enough money to pay the right people off) sooo). 

That’s where suguru comes in (I see this as a mostly canon-compliant geto never defected au). Obviously he would want to keep up with what his best friend is up to, so he’s like a day one supporter of said idol group. With how the japanese idol industry seems to have a focus on the youth and purity of female idols, I could definitely see suguru wanting to “protect his oshi’s innocence” . . .

So if (let’s be honest, WHEN) satosugu bring idol darling home, I could totally see suguru just absolutely babying the poor girl to kind of a weird infantilizing degree?? If that makes sense?? Like very much trying to condition darling into relying on them for everything

I would assume that satoru would be a lot more upfront about how much of a gross perv he is (especially since he probably mistreated the group members to some extent)

I think they would expect total compliance from darling, but if darling ever acts up I can’t help but think one of their go-to punishments would be forcing her to perform the groups choreographies with some sort of “handicap” ie vibrator taped to her pussy at the full speed (and yes they would probably reprimand if she messes up - gotta make sure their number one idol isn’t missing practice!!

Speaking of missing practice/group activities, I fully believe it is within satoru’s capabilities to spread the narrative that darling just kinda . . . suddenly “graduated” from the group and left without a trace, so therefore the other members shouldn’t worry about her and should instead just resume group activities!! (I could also see satosugu using this as some kind of mental leverage over idol darling - like “hey, your group is actually way more popular now that you’ve left”)

Sorry gang I fear I let the thoughts simmer for too long . . .

please let me know your thoughts :3

tw - non/con, kidnapping, idol exploitation, long-term stalking, and obsessive behavior.

WAIT may i suggest: suguru and satoru as parasocial ultra-fans of the same idol as kind of an escapism thing from the stress of being some of the world's most powerful sorcerers, with satoru having the fortune to completely devote himself to making him and suguru your #1 fans. you start to recognize them around the fifth time they miraculously appear at the very front of the line for your post-concert meet-and-greet, but since they're a little bit older and they always have a small gaggle of shy, but polite preteens with them, you just assume they're a pair of wealthy fathers eager to fuel their kids' shared fixation. sure, it's a little strange that the white-haired man always seems more excited to shake your hand than his standoffish son, and it does raise a few concerns when the twin girls spend the majority of their time with you gushing about their black-haired father, but you're a very popular idol with a very busy schedule. you don't have a lot of time to think about one strange family out of the hundred or so you'll meet, that night.

you don't have a lot of time to think about them until your group starts getting extravagant, expensive gifts and donations - always paired with the a gushing fan letter and always sent from one of two increasingly familiar names. since you always seem to be the primary focus, you're the one pressured by your producers to film 'thank you' videos that are just a little too intimidate, to post the type of pictures your generous sponsors compliment the most heavily more often than you may like to. it gets to the point where you're being asked how you'd feel about ""private shows"" to ""ensure the support of a select demographic"", but you adamantly refuse every time it's brought up. it's enough to have to deal with satoru's touchiness at your handshake events, suguru's prying gaze from his permanent seat in the front row of your group's concerts. you don't need to be trapped in the same room as them, alone and all-but paid to cooperate, to know that you want as little to do with them as possible.

that is, until your producer slips you a drink that's just a little too bitter during rehearsal and you wake up in a large room decorated entirely with your merch and memorabilia, to satoru's head between your thighs and suguru behind you, an arm wrapped around your waist and his chin propped on your shoulder as he tells you about how excited they are to finally meet their favorite idol in person, how patiently they've been waiting for you to finally retire and take on a more domestic lifestyle. they'll be delighted to find out that, because of how long you've been in the industry and how protective your fans can be, you're still very much a virgin, and you very much need your two biggest fans to show you what you've been missing <3 if you're lucky, they'll even add pictures of your first climax to the shrine they've been building since they day they first discovered you, the shrine they're going to be keeping you inside of from now on. you might be crying, sure, begging to be let go, but that's alright.

in time, you'll realize how lucky you are to have such devoted fans.

[tacitusk1llwhore]

What's up, y'all? This post has been wildly anticipated, and I have literally spent days on it. So let's get right into it, yeah? The Van Der Linde Gang is not a family; it is not a group of down-and-outs living outside the law for freedom (not entirely). It is, in fact, a cult, or, at the very least, most of the time operates like a cult would. To understand this we have to know exactly what a cult is, so what is the definition of a cult? A cult (as according to Google) is a misplaced or excessive admiration for a particular person or thing. This is one of the many definitions. So there you are; it's a cult, case closed! Just kidding, I wouldn't make it that easy, so let's look deeper into cult mentality and how it relates to the VDL gang.

Let's look first at what some characteristics of a cult leader are, and then let's match them to Dutch as a person. Cult leaders are incredibly charismatic; they come off as personable, as these wonderful, easygoing people who accept those as they are and bring in those who have been deemed by society as undesirable. But what makes them so very charismatic? How is it so easy for them to fall into this role? Having an image of yourself rooted in grandiosity, not reality. But Dutch isn't like that! You cry, to which I say—hold on, I'm getting there. Dutch is like that; Dutch has always been like that. In the traditional cult sense, he doesn't believe himself to be god, nor does he proclaim himself supreme or anything that we typically associate with cults. What does he do then? He corrects himself; he blame-shifts, and often. One of the first hints that I got that maybe this guy isn't as cool as I thought he was was all the way in Colter. When speaking to Charles, Dutch tells him to get indoors, on account of the cold and his injured hand. This seems so sweet, something from genuine concern and care for someone under his leadership. Until he slips up in his language and says, "I—We need you strong." He starts off simply stating that he himself needs Charles strong, greatly overestimating the true need for Charles amongst the other gang members. Charles provides for the gang in the form of food, money, and little repairs. If something were to happen to Charles day-to-day, it wouldn't affect Dutch all that much. Who would it affect? Those that cannot hunt for themselves, Abigail, who can't leave camp on account of her son, those that rely on the men of the gang to provide for them. If there was a food shortage in the gang, Dutch would be just fine; he can hunt for himself. You know who probably can't? Tilly or Mary-Beth. By first and foremost stating that Dutch himself needs Charles strong before he switches to include everyone, we see the first sign of his exaggerated sense of self-importance. His use for Charles is exploitation; he can exploit his position, his lack of connection outside of the gang, to make him money. Others use it for Charles's basic necessities. It is also well known that Dutch is allergic to accountability, as we see in the phrase "You'll keep doubting me and we'll keep failing." This is said to Arthur after yet another one of Dutch's poorly executed and subsequently failed plans, through no fault of Arthur. Dutch needs a scapegoat; he cannot fathom that he himself makes poor choices, and so he narrows his perception, forcing a round peg through a square hole to frame himself as perfect. It was Abigail's fault that Hosea died; it's Arthur's doubt that makes their jobs not run smoothly; John isn't loyal anymore because of Abigail. Never once do we see Dutch take accountability, and we shouldn't expect him to, not when his sense of self is so insanely inflated.

Behaviors and body language also play into this; Dutch is very often seen standing, chest puffed, shoulders back, with a cigar in hand. He will stare off in silence, giving us this illusion that he's thinking, that he has all of these wonderful ideas running through his head so fast he simply has to take a pause to go through them all, to contemplate. Did you know that body language amongst cult leaders is typically comparable? This powerful, almost Superman-like pose is a common one amongst them; it exhibits power and confidence, combined with subtle, casual movements or actions, like smoking a cigar or rubbing the temples. This can and does give the illusion of not only intelligence but also power and empathy or deep contemplation. Dutch also dresses luxuriously; he wants to stand out against the gang as this intellectual genius. He wants to seem so much more well educated, with so much more money, so these people who are more intelligent than him but less confident or well off look at him and say, "Wow, I should follow him; he's doing well for himself; he's confident; he knows best." When in reality it's all a ruse, and body language, the set apart from the others, is another way he does this.

Now let's look at what I think is one of the most cult-like aspects of the VDL gang, and that is how they got their members. So many people say, "Oh well, how could anyone ever join a cult?" "Why not just leave?" "You'd have to be stupid to join a cult!" But the thing is, people do not purposely join cults. People are lured into cults in multiple ways: the promise of money, freedom, love, luxury, but most of all, family. You know who the prime targets for cults are? The marginalized, the poor, as well as the young, the naive, and the downtrodden. Take the analogy of the frog in water: if you slowly turn up the heat, the frog will boil alive—such can be applied to cults; no cult starts with these crazy behaviors, rules, or rituals; they condition you slowly, they put you into a position in which it is impossible to leave, and when you realize the truth, it's too late. Let's look at the stories of some of the members of the VDL gang, how they came to be. Arthur, taken off the streets after his abusive father was hanged, leaving him orphaned and destitute; John, saved from a mob trying to hang him for thieving, this, of course, after he was also orphaned and had run from an orphanage (orphanages in the 1800s were child workhouses); Tilly, who was rescued after running from her kidnappers, after killing one of them to escape. Javier, freshly in the US, running into Dutch while the pair were stealing chickens, Charles, a loner with no family who had been on his own for decades, accepted into the first group he's known that has treated him fairly. What do these stories all have in common? These people were all at their most vulnerable when they were picked up by Dutch; they all were destitute, poor, hungry, afraid, or searching for a place to belong. It's easy to indoctrinate those that have nothing waiting for them on the outside. Dutch preys on people who have nothing, because when you give people with nothing something—you buy their loyalty right with it.

These people are so very loyal to Dutch that they would die for him; they literally state it (or at least Arthur does). The framing of a family is also a common tactic; if you make these people see you as one big family, not little worker bees, you can convince them anything they do for you is doing something for their family—for the greater good, when in reality, it's for you—it's for your gain. These men are called "Dutch's Boys." This implies a fatherly role, almost infantilizing those under the leader and bolstering their importance within the dynamic. These men have killed, stolen, robbed, kidnapped, and done the worst of the worst for Dutch, under the guise of a better life for them and these people they care about, when in reality it's for Dutch and his ideas that never included them in the end. The rules themselves also point to a cultish dynamic; if you rat, or talk, or are considered a traitor in any way, you are killed. Molly was not the first to be killed for this; I doubt she was even the second. It was so bad at the end that people were sneaking away in the night; they knew truly they were never just free to leave, the thought, or fact, rather, that they would be potentially murdered in front of their fellow camp members outweighing any want or wish for goodbyes. Let this be a reminder that most of these people were so indoctrinated they watched a woman they had lived with and cared for be murdered in cold blood, then be burned rather than buried (a sign of disrespect then), and didn't say anything; they didn't try to stop it; they didn't even defend Molly. Uncle actually brought her back, knowing that she was drunk and hysterical, probably knowing what the outcome would be. We see Arthur, who was realizing the error of his ways and the error of the gang, try and stop things, and later Karen go off on Grimshaw in her drunken state, but besides looking a little shocked and then going right back to work, no one did anything or said anything. Reminder: that's not normal. Killing someone for a betrayal (that turned out to be untrue without further evidence in front of a group of people and presumably a child) with such ease and to state, "It's the rules." As an explanation, it is not a family unit; it is a cult.

I will say that just because this is a cult doesn't mean that Arthur seeing the gang as a family or those members calling themselves family is any less true. That dynamic was real for them,that love was real based upon personal relationships and at some point probably real for Dutch, but realizing that he could get away with anything because he gave these people everything turned slowly into something far more sinister. It went from taking from the rich, taking in the downtrodden to help them to, I saved you; now go do my bidding. These people saw him, saw one another as family, as friends and brothers, and he saw them as chess pieces; he states as much. Again, frog in hot water.

Is the VDL a cult? In many ways, yes—common cult tactics are used by the leader, including love bombing to the women and those who he has raised. Calling Arthur son, knowing he has no father, only when he wants something is manipulation; his interactions and the implications of the change in relationship between him and Molly also imply this. The VDL was never a true family as Dutch would have them believe or have us believe. Arthur is an unreliable narrator in that regard; that love was real, absolutely, but the unit, the scenario, wasn't. The VDL ran like a cult; Dutch was not a good person, and he knew exactly what he was doing the entire time.

That's my hot take for the day.

( @moeitsu I know you said you wanted to read my take on this so I figured id tag!)

[yanderes-galore]

A romantic concept of General Grievous (Star Wars) if you can please????

Hm, sure, I'll try my best. Here's my attempt at Grievous.

Yandere! General Grievous Concept

Pairing: Romantic/Dubious

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Possessive behavior, Kidnapping, Isolation, Murder, Stalking, Ownership, You become a cyborg, Forced relationship.

When it comes to General Grievous, I don't see him as a particularly romantic character.

He has had past loves and countless kids when he was still a biological creature.

Nowadays he's been rather murderous more than someone who loves.

It's not like he really has the drive to pursue another partner anyways, right?

His story is a bit upsetting, after all he was another who was manipulated by the Sith.

Yet that doesn't excuse his actions.

Once a cyborg, Grievous became a ruthless Jedi hunter who killed for the Separatists.

He lives for the hunt, lives for the eventual kill....

He likes his power, he likes that he's a symbol of fear, and he doesn't even need the force to do it.

He doesn't worry about pain as robotic parts are easy to replace.

Need I also mention he's extremely tall and has four arms?

He's arrogant of his abilities and keeps Lightsabers as trophies.

General Grievous, if he ever did find someone he wanted, could easily plan to obtain them.

Grievous is known to be an infamous and intelligent tactician.

He knows how to prioritize his own survival to fight another day.

But the most important part of that is the fact he can plan.

He's clever... If he wants something, he's a skilled hunter.

He's relentless and determined to get what he wants done.

You do not want this man to track you down.

Mostly because he will find you and get what he wants.

Love has a twisted meaning to Grievous.

He's a warlord, he always has been a fighter and is used to losing loved ones.

When it comes to you, his love is... far from normal.

It's not like he can give much affection in his current state.

Affection itself is a rather foreign action now.

Love for someone such as him has dire consequences for you.

His obsession, no matter who they are, will be much weaker than him.

After all, as long as he plays his cards right, he can just have himself repaired.

A fearsome warrior and hunter such as him can easily outsmart a poor soul like you.

He doesn't care if his obsession is scared of him, either.

He's quite used to being feared, in fact he thrives off it.

He's been shown to be a bit of a sadist, so he might find amusement in your fear.

He'll exploit your emotions and has no issues with killing innocents if it gets him what he wants.

Grievous is not controlled by rules or morals.

He knows others are though... Which allows him to exploit such weaknesses.

Just imagine what Grievous could do...

He'll stalk you with spy droids, making sure he has every detail documented about you.

No one bothers to question his motives, after all, maybe you're close to a Jedi... or even a secret Jedi yourself.

Plus, does anyone really want to second guess General Grievous?

No... Not really.

Once he obtains the needed information, he's insistent he confronts you himself.

You being some sort of warrior or Jedi yourself seems to make the most sense for why he'd pursue you.

He has a vague idea of why you catch his eye.

But it's strange that he doesn't want to kill you.

However, he has no issues killing others.

Imagine being hunted by this infamous cyborg, one who's known for hunting Jedi.

The fact he isn't hunting you to kill you brings you no closure.

Grievous would target your family, friends, master, apprentice, or even people who happen to be around you.

There's only so much you can do when Grievous shows up, four Lightsabers blazing as he calls for you in his raspy voice.

Until he sees you with his enhanced reptilian eyes, he'll interrogate and slaughter whoever gets in his way.

Despite not being force sensitive in the slightest, he's just as cruel as any Sith.

You've heard stories... and now you're finally meeting him.

Much to your dismay though... as you witness him skewering innocents on his sabers.

He cares little for these lives.

Even less so if you know them.

All Grievous came for was you.

He knows everything about you, so much it's unnerving.

You can tell he does when he speaks to you.

His voice is raspy and sounds synthetic.

Despite it, his words are oddly full of... praise?

He seems impressed by you, as though you've caught his eye.

You can almost sense a subtle tone of flirtation when he admits you've driven him mad...

But you hope you're just hearing things.

Despite his words of supposed praise, Grievous has no issues fighting you if you are a warrior.

Even when he tries to suggest you join him, he doesn't mind a battle.

Don't worry... You won't die.

He'll just... leave you on the edge of death if you insist on engaging with him.

Grievous will hand it to you, he thought any kind of romance he had was dead.

After all, it's not like he was a monogamous man....

He didn't originally consider himself lonely.

In fact, he can't quite tell how he wants to express his feelings towards you.

It isn't good no matter how he does it.

In fact, the scariest part of Grievous is this...

He'd make you a cyborg.

Grievous, while originally not enjoying how he looked, has now embraced being a cyborg.

He views flesh as weakness.

If he was going to choose you to be his partner, a member of his elite...

You will need to be like him.

Even the Sith Yanderes will mostly manipulate and bend you to their will through words.

Grievous? Well, he can force obedience by making you a cyborg.

He doesn't expect you to agree, in fact, he knows you won't.

After all, his 'love' isn't mutual.

It's not like he's delusional.

Yet... He knows you can't fight back if he forces you into the choice either.

It's not like he'll let you die on him, even if he beats you in battle.

It will take time, but you will soon be a cyborg of his design.

You never wanted this, in fact it feels wrong to be like this.

You probably would think death by his hands would be better.

Instead, Grievous designs you to his preference.

You can now be a warrior, even if you weren't before.

Grievous will train you, make you his...

He may even put a chip in you to force you to listen to him.

To him, this is the right way to love you.

You'll be stronger now.

His time with fleshy partners is over.

This way, you will last just as long as him...

No one else can have you if he makes you his by design, right?

[maxdibert]

What are your headcanons on Severus and the Malfoys? Do you think he genuinely considered them friends, or was it part of his cover? Or were they ever really friends at some point?

I have so much to say about this! I actually have two different versions of the story, and I think both of them could be canon. I can never decide between them because both seem plausible, so I’ll share my opinion on each and let everyone decide which one fits best.

Despite being a poor, scruffy, half-blood kid from a working-class background, I think Lucius took Severus under his wing because, after all, Lucius was already a 15-year-old teenager who was likely quite involved in pure-blood extremist circles and had probably heard of Voldemort by then. He was probably trying to make a good impression by recruiting as many people as possible. And despite Severus’ background, treating him with respect was a pretty shrewd move to maintain unity within Slytherin and promote that “us against the world” mentality. This would ultimately foster the cult-like environment that developed during that era. I also think that, after seeing that Severus, beyond his background, had a strong interest and talent for the Dark Arts and was a good student, Lucius probably saw that Severus’ skills could be useful, which is why he kept him under his wing. Lucius Malfoy is often portrayed as a snobbish buffoon, but besides being a shrewd man, he’s part of high society, old money. And even the classist aristocrats know how to make use of the working class and recognize talent because, historically, they’ve maintained their position by exploiting such talent.

I think Lucius and Severus maintained that mentor-pupil relationship for many years, and once Lucius graduated, he intervened to help Severus be accepted and valued within his House while also using him as a sort of personal charity project. Like Cher in Clueless (who’s based on Emma Woodhouse from Jane Austen) taking on an awkward kid from the North without wealth or pedigree and turning him into someone fit for high magical society—a kind of social experiment, if you will. I think this made Severus feel indebted to him, at least before Voldemort killed Lily. I also believe that, during Severus’ school years, his gratitude stemmed not only from this “mentorship” but also from the fact that, for the first time, someone believed in him and motivated him to pursue his ambitions. Lucius was like a father/older brother figure whom he respected and appreciated for seeing him as more than just a poor kid with nothing.

That said, my interpretation of their relationship splits into two possibilities once Severus becomes a double agent.

On one hand, there’s the idea that, after Lily’s death, feeling guilty and determined to actively work for Voldemort’s downfall, Severus emotionally distanced himself from the Malfoys as much as possible. The relationship they developed over the next 18 years would then be solely a means to an end—to gain favor with someone influential within the Ministry and among the most important dark wizards. Deep down, it was all a façade because the Malfoys also represented everything he despised and regretted being a part of, so he decided to cut off any emotional attachment to them. Basically: it was all fake.

The other version, and the one I prefer because it feels more realistic, is that Severus, as the abused and abandoned child he was, would always experience cognitive dissonance toward people who treated him well during his most vulnerable years. It’s something evident in his view of Lily, even though he was joining a group that literally wanted to kill people like her, and I can see it applying to his view of the Malfoys as well. Though they were a family actively working to end people like Lily, and Severus would ultimately have to confront them if it came to it, he’d still struggle to sever his emotional ties with the Malfoys. Just as he couldn’t understand why his friendship with Lily was ending because of his choices, I don’t think he’d be able to emotionally cut off the Malfoys, even if he knew they were terrible or knew he might eventually have to face them in battle. Much like how Lily being the first person to treat him with kindness was enough to make him risk everything to atone for his indirect role in her death and his support of Voldemort, I think Lucius “taking him in” also carved out a streak of loyalty in Severus toward his family. Severus strikes me as someone fiercely loyal to anyone who’s shown him kindness or understanding, even if that loyalty is against his own interests. And despite everything, I think he genuinely cared about the Malfoys. While he no longer admired Lucius, I think he still respected him in a certain way, like a younger brother who knows his older brother is a jerk but still sees him as his older brother.

I also think Narcissa had a kind of “older sister” vibe for him—that when she and Lucius were dating and Severus was still a kid, she saw him as this scruffy little guy, like a cute but poor puppy. And that impression probably stuck with him too. I think he always felt more comfortable with her than with Lucius, since she was associated more with the maternal than with authority. While his favoritism toward Slytherins was partly to maintain appearances and partly due to resentment toward Gryffindors, I believe he genuinely liked Draco. This affection, though, was likely another form of cognitive dissonance because Draco was far more similar to James than Harry ever was (in terms of character, classism, and using his status, family name, and influence to torment others). But just as his hatred of Harry was a reflection of his resentment toward James, his affection for Draco was probably a reflection of his relationship with Lucius and Narcissa.

[neerons]

-Kei Soejima's Life Chronology-

✦ This chronology was created for clarity, reference, and to help readers—even those unfamiliar with the route—better understand Kei’s layered backstory.

Louis St. Alfans (son of a duke) and a nun fall in love and she becomes pregnant with illegitimate twins. They become parents at a young age.

Kei and Kai are born and get separated after their birth.

Kei is sent to the orphanage/church and grows up there for 8 years along with his friends Joshua Cillian White, and Sophia Morgan. Along with the other children, he endures SA from the church benefactors, starvation by the priests, as well as bullying from the older kids (especially by one named Nathaniel) during these years.

Kai is kept by the St. Alfanses, publicly known as Louis' younger brother, and grows up there for 8 years.

After believing his friend Josh had died, Kei set fire to the church on a windy night, and ran away in the forest.

Kei was found in the forest and taken in by a family. A man (drunkard) and woman (drug addict) led Kei to their small house, where they kept other orphans like Kei. There were 8 other children with him, living with the bare minimum. One day, the couple tried to exploit Kei by making him wear a dress to sell him to someone who would pay more if he looked like a girl. Kei ran away again into the forest after that event.

Kei collapsed in the forest after escaping from that house, suffering from thirst and hunger. He thought he was going to die and hoped to meet Josh again.

Kei wakes up in the Romleys' residence and meets Chad (Earl) and Anne (Countess) Romley, who rescued him. Anne reveals that they're his official godparents, and that they knew he was raised at church, but didn't know it was in such poor conditions.

Kei tried to run away from the Romleys multiple times, but they always found him and brought him back (since they're legendary agents), which made Kei ultimately trust that they'll always come to find him, and started thinking of them as family.

He's officially adopted by Emma and Cyrus Romley (archaeologists), but ends up living with his adoptive grandparents, guardians and godparents: Chad and Anne.

Kei meets and starts appreciating Caleb Townsend (Marquess), an acquaintance of Chad and Anne (secretly their ex-colleague at the MI6).

Caleb goes on vacation in France with Chad, Anne and Kei at Kei's request. They go to the Romley's winery in France and meet Libre, Chad's white horse that Kei loves a lot.

At night, Kei can't sleep and discovers Caleb has secretly killed Libre in the stable, which horrifies and traumatizes Kei. Right after, Caleb pushes Kei to have dinner with him. Caleb cooks Libre as their main menu at that dinner. Kei forces himself to chew one piece of the meat to avoid offending Caleb, all while wanting to throw up.

Caleb reveals that night that he also ate Kei's father (Louis St. Alfans). Later, he invites Kei to come to his personal residence to show him what remains of his "father". Kei then sees one crystal blue eye in a sort of liquid. Kei believes his father to be dead.

One day, Caleb kidnaps Kei from the Romleys and Kai from the St. Alfanses. The twins meet each other for the first time that day, at 8 years old.

Knowing that Caleb is a cannibal, the twins try to escape once he's gone, but with how strong he is, they knew they stood no chance if they both left. Kai tells Kei that he had a good life unlike him, and to run away. Kei doesn't want to leave him behind, but is pushed by Kai to switch their shirts and escape. After getting out of the house, Kei trips on something and hits his head hard on the ground, leaving a scar on his forehead.

Kei's memories become hazy as time goes by because of his traumatic experiences triggered by Caleb, and possibly because of how hard he hit his head. He forgets his memories linked to Caleb and Kai entirely, as a protective mecanism. The only things he remembers is being raised at church, losing Josh and being adopted by the Romleys after running away.

Kei finds his way back to the Romleys, goes to boarding school and goes on with his life until he becomes a young adult.

He studies at Oxford at 20 years old, and meets Kazuomi and Yuzuru in his first year. They soon become more than just partners-in-crime, and develop a long-lasting friendship that lasts 15 years.

When Kei happens to be in Japan one day, he receives a letter and gift from "Chad". The gift was a golden choker, a family heirloom. "Chad" tells Kei to give this to a lady he might be interested in, since he's at the age to marry. However, Kei finds out way too late that the person who sent him that letter and choker was actually Caleb.

Kei meets MC for the first time at 35 years old, at Masquerade.

Kei gives MC the choker he received from "Chad" as a sign of his domination over her, and because he simply thought it might suit her. And so begins the story of their complex romance.

[atxxzist]

to hell with you | c.s (prologue)

series m.list

pairing: choi san x f!reader

word count: 4k

warning: y/n being a serial liar, manipulator & gaslighter. not 4 the faint hearted. somewhat suggestive

a/n: i already told y'all she's gonna b awful

you've had your fair share of disappointments in life--most of them from your parents, other family members who claim to care for your well-being, and some even from wooyoung.

there's only one person who you can ever really count on to not let you down.

"san," he introduced himself, just fourteen years old at the time and still oblivious to what he was getting himself into.

you admit that though you might not excel academically, never caring to go above and beyond and most of the times just barely passing your classes, you have a talent for reading people.

able to tell whether someone is worth your time from just being with them briefly, and choi san was definitely someone worth all the initial fake smiles and enthusiasm because not only did he keep you company because no one else wanted to, san was also quite gifted in the academic department.

as if cursed the day he was seated next to you, you figured out quickly how much of a star student he was, holding a prowess in almost any subjects that would've made your parents proud if he was their kid--and a fact you selfishly used to your advantage.

if it wasn't something coming up that was preventing you from doing your work, it was that you didn't understand the assignment and it'd just be easier if he did both his and your part.

and if it wasn't that, then you were mostly just copying off of him--another thing he made extremely easy because you also picked up quite early on that san likes you.

unfortunately growing up, you were never been one for romance, trashing the concept and rejecting every boys that has ever asked you out, your cousin was convinced at one point you were asexual.

even san, you didn't feel much different toward besides the very obvious facts he made school much easier for you, and that you had someone else to talk to aside from wooyoung.

still, you stuck with him all through high school and even learned to appreciate some parts of him even if they didn't necessarily benefit you in any ways, given the bigger picture was that he was more useful than useless.

san is the only person who has never said no to you regardless of anything, even if he has a hard time with it in general; you having seen first-hand the few times he'd let someone step all over him or be too afraid to ask for money back that was rightfully owed to him.

you had been the voice of reasons for most of those instances, stepping up in his place when he was too timid to do it himself, offended at the mere thought that someone else believed they could just take advantage of san's kindness.

it's incredibly ironic, you understand, because it isn't someone not paying him back or asking to copy a quick problem that's gonna hurt him in the long run.

it's his 'best friend' knowingly and fully aware of the kind of person he is; that maybe sometimes he doesn't say no not because he's afraid, but because he genuinely wants to do it... whether out of goodness or whatever other reasons he has--and exploiting this quality of him.

because you knew he couldn't say no, especially not to you.

not the first time when you lied about being sick so he would do your homework just because you didn't feel like it, and not the most recent when you lied about being away for some 'family business' when you really just flew out to jeju with your cousin for an entire week of vacation, leaving the bulk of your university assignments for san to figure out.

and the worst thing you've ever done according wooyoung, knowing san definitely wasn't gonna say no--asking him to have sex with you.

even if he wanted to, and even if it was consensual, wooyoung having grown a soft spot for the poor boy you've been stringing along--thought it was a horrible idea. he still does.

told you it could get messy quickly, adding something as intimate as sex into an already complicated enough situation when you planned on the relationship staying the same even after.

but you assured him as you always do, saying everything is gonna be okay because san seemed fine with it, and so were you. didn't stop him from saying the same thing he does every time.

"you're sure he's fine with it, or did you just assumed that?"

a remark that always made you roll your eyes, because you didn't doubt a bit that san was more than fine. he likes you, why wouldn't he wanna sleep with you? plus, the idea came up in the first place because it was a known fact between the two of you that you were both virgins.

"i'm failing to see what's the problem?" you shrug nonchalantly, having confessed the deed just the day after it was done and thinking wooyoung would understand, though you should've seen it coming at this point.

"i mean, isn't it better to lose your virginity to someone you trust?" you add, only to the look of disappointment on your cousin's face; the same one he's given you one too many times by now.

(also the same one he gave you after you fessed up about having lied regarding having no classes so you could take the jeju trip with him)

he shakes his head and let out a short breath.

"i'm not here to judge anyone's sex lives because there's a reason one night stands and friends with benefits are a thing, but it's a horrible idea because of the history between you and san. the feelings you know he has for you... you're kind of taking advantage of that."

but in classic you style, you usually don't wanna listen to wooyoung unless he's agreeing with you; letting out an annoyed sigh and making sure he hears it before crossing your arms.

"whatever," you mumble, though wooyoung hears it--not that you care. he's family, so whether you pisses him off or not doesn't really matter all that much.

he says something under his breath that you pretend to pay no attention to.

"you're literally a sociopath."

so maybe san's friends doesn't like you for a reason--not that you really care about that, too. after all, they're not the ones who's known you for years or getting asked for favors--most of which san does so contently, sometimes even offering it himself.

or maybe they don't like that you're always taking him from them, always catching the pure annoyance and eye rolls when you make the slightest appearance at their library table, knowing damn well the only reason why you're even here at all.

you can appreciate yeosang for keeping his composure and acting like he can stand you, even if you probably irritate him just as much as the other two who usually isn't as friendly and will let you know.

"guess who," you say in your sweet voice the same time you cover san's eyes with your hands from behind, nails perfectly painted and all, ignoring the side eye mingi gave you just a few seconds ago when he caught you heading this way.

"hey," san says, a small giggle accompanying his response, prying your hands from his vision gently and turning to meet the pretty smile on your lips.

"whatchu doing?" you ask, peeking over his shoulder that lifts your heels off the floor and makes your short skirt rise just a little, the fabric barely safe enough to cover parts of you that shouldn't be seen, especially in public, to see that he's currently reading through a textbook.

"just finishing up a chapter," he answers, much to the smirk on your lips that's about to say something, when mingi beats you to it.

"just cut to it. no need to act like you actually care about what we're doing, especially anything concerning school works," the boy says harshly, accustomed to your little routine and just how things work in your world, pretending to care about san and anything that doesn't involve you before it will eventually become all about you.

san opens his mouth to defend you, but you cut him off, also well-accustomed to dealing with people like mingi and yunho.

"of course i care. i mean, who wouldn't want to hear all about..." you pause to read the title of the closed textbook sitting in front of mingi, "the principles of physics," you say sarcastically with a high-pitched voice you know will tick his gears.

mingi's grip clenches, and this time, it's san that cuts him off before things can escalate any further (and they will).

he closes the book he was reading and grabs at his backpack quickly the same time he jumps onto mingi's words mid-sentence.

"okay! well we should probably get going," he says, looking down at you with a tiny smile that you return.

immediately, you latch your arm around his and wave to the group of very irritated boys; san barely managing to say a proper goodbye before you drag him away.

"sorry about that," san says once you're both out the library, his face as apologetic as they come.

"it's fine. you know i don't care," you reply, as if getting snide remarks and insults hurled at you is just something as casual and expected as having to eat or drink water everyday, though san tries his best to separate you from his friends because it's too many times that someone ends up with their feelings hurt; 9/10 times that someone either being yunho or mingi.

san nods it off, something seemingly on his mind.

"i-i didn't know you'd show. if i did, i would've suggested we meet out here, or in the dorms."

"i texted you in the morning. you didn't answer," you tell him, stating the obvious but his reaction is as if this is news.

"right. i apologize. i was going to, but i forgot."

you can't help but to crank an eyebrow at the strangeness of it all, but you don't get to linger on the thoughts because san's quick to break it.

"did you have something you wanted to tell me?" he asks.

"i was gonna ask if you'd be free to help me study this friday." as if you already don't know his answer. as if you care whether or not he has something else going on beside to clear all of his schedules at your beck and call.

but expect the unexpected, because san surprises you. he doesn't instantly nod his head or says yes the way you know him to.

instead, he asks in an unsure, almost disappointed voice, "this friday?"

"yeah. right now we're going through some really boring chapters in fashion class. something about the history of it and textiles fundamentals," you tell him, sounding as disheartened as you can, which is usually code for 'i need you to do the work for me basically'.

it takes him longer than needed to finally respond, as if his mind preoccupied and hesitating--a sight you don't think you've ever seen of san before.

"i might have something that friday, so i'll think about it."

and for the first time in your life ever since you've known him, choi san gives you a 'maybe'. gasp. the audacity.

you immediately cross your arms, looking him up and down as if interrogating, saying it playfully and mischieviously but definitely meaning the words coming out of your mouth, "you have something better that friday or what?"

san cooly plays it off and starts walking away the same time he answers, "i said i'll think about it." causing you to skip frantically behind him to catch up before stopping in front of him, the sudden appearance almost causing the two of you to bump into each other.

a stare-off and a couple seconds of silence ensues before you blurt out, "i'll fuck you if you come this friday."

he laughs, the dimples you hate to admit you love, shows itself along with the shake of his head.

"you'd fuck me either way," he says, to a teasing smile on your lips.

"maybe," you mutter, jumping to his side that second to wrap your arm around his again, this time leaning your head on his shoulder to look up at him through your perfectly curled lashes.

"please?" you say in the sweetest voice possible, a pout accompanying your lips to be even more convincing.

but again, he only chuckles it off, mumbling, "we'll see." leaving a permanent frown on your face the rest of the day, because no matter how much you pester him, he isn't moved the slightest.

you can't believe it.

san was a lot more compliant in high school, like he didn't live for anything else but to carry out orders from you. of course, it made sense because you were his only 'friend'.

then came college, the journey that had began a year ago, and within just the first few months, he was telling you about guys he met in his classes who seemed like they actually wanted to be his friends.

guys who shared all the same nerdy interests as him; nose either always in books or video games tournaments you don't really care too much for, though you tried showing some enthusiam whenever san talked about it.

the same guys who sits in the library with him everyday at 12 in the afternoon, probably whispering things into his ears about you and why he should hate your guts, too.

it's no doubt that could be why he's been acting so weird lately.

not texting you as much the past few days, and even completely scrapping the usual schedule you guys had after classes for an entire week now, telling you he and his friends are prepping for a gaming club of some sort.

and you can deal with a little change of behaviors; even some hesitation as long as he comes back around, but you absolutely cannot deal with san straight up telling you no.

"i can't," he says over the phone, his voice stern but still holding back some fear, afraid of your reaction.

"what!" you yell in disbelief. "san, you cannot be fucking kidding me."

this isn't happening.

"i'm sorry. i-i--"

"you what?" you cut him off, the pink in your room now turning red in your vision. "what other better things do you have to do?"

"i'll make up to you, i promise," he tries to reasoning, tone apologetic, but you're still not having it.

"you know what? whatever. forget about it." then you hang up. just like that. just like whenever things doesn't go your way.

what are you supposed to do now? study for your own classes and do your own assignments? unbelievable.

"yeah that's kind of crazy. having to do the work yourself? damn." wooyoung's sarcastic response fills the speaker of your phone, prompting you to roll your eyes.

"shut the fuck up, woo."

you let out a groan and slam the textbook shut, rolling your back onto the bed to stare up at the chandelier.

"i can't do this any second longer. it's pure fucking torture," you complain.

"it's only been five minutes, y/n," your cousin states the obvious.

"i know, and i hate it. why the hell do we need to learn about this shit when i already know all there is to know about fashion?"

"well if you supposedly already know everything, then shouldn't this be a breeze for you?"

"logically. but it's not. all these questions are too fucking specific."

since san isn't gonna be coming in tomorrow, you figure you needed to start ahead of time just so you'll have enough room to moan and groan, having to actually do the work yourself now.

"so what would keep him so busy on such a friday?" wooyoung asks after a necessary moment of peace and quiet in order for you to finish a paragraph.

"he wouldn't tell me, but it was probably something to do with his friends. they don't like me."

since you can't possibly think of any other bigger importance than you on san's list.

"anywho, either later tonight or tomorrow morning, he will most likely reach out again," you add, because that's how it works. that's how it has always worked.

you getting upset or ticked off when your plans fall in shambles, and san always apologizing even if he beared no faults.

but san is just full of surprises this week, because you wake up expecting his name on the screen of your phone given he didn't get back to you last night, but all there is are meaningless notifications from the few apps you have.

you could reach out first but why would you? that would ruin your entire brand.

so you strut to classes and think about the actual crazy possibility that san isn't gonna apologize; that he's actually ignoring you--all of which is hard to wrap your head around currently.

it's only 10 in the morning and it's already the longest you and san has gone without communicating.

you keep yourself busy between classes thinking back to wooyoung's offer last night and reconsidering it.

"now that he pretty much blew you off, why don't you come with me tomorrow? finish what you can tonight. you still have another week anyway. besides, it's better than rotting in your room alone on a friday."

but you had told him with the surest confidence that san was gonna call or text, and you two would've already made up by the time the party starts, so you were not gonna be able to make it.

you can't stand parties in general; the smell, the people, the noise, and just everything about having a bunch of teens and barely young adults in one place is incredibly tacky.

the first one you went out of curiosity, and the second one was because wooyoung, your cousin who's the life of the party, of course, dragged you to it.

he had wanted you to get to know some of his university friends, only for them to unfortunately not even make the event because something came up.

he said they're showing for sure this time.

you tell wooyoung if san doesn't get back to you by 3, you'll go; and you're currently getting dressed to head out with him because san doesn't fucking get back to you at all.

"fuck him," you curse as you plop down in the passenger seat, the offhanded comment causing a burst of laughter from wooyoung. "no, seriously, what the fuck could he be doing?"

san's pretty much ghosting you. your jaw is on the floor.

"okay but is it really ghosting if you haven't even tried reaching out at all?" wooyoung quips, raising an eyebrow at you, already able to see the disbelief currently painting your expression just from his peripheral vision.

"you're not making me feel any better, woo," you whine, crossing your arms and frowning like a child as you stare at the road ahead.

"i'm just trying to be rational here."

"sure, because it sounds like you're always taking his side."

"i'm not picking sides, and even if i am, i'll always try my best to stand behind who's family."

you scoff and roll your eyes, muttering, "sure."

a short silence fly by before wooyoung speaks again, "but if you really wanna feel better, you made the right choice in coming tonight."

but actually being there just makes you do a double take if this was indeed the right choice, because you currently feel suffocated being dragged through the crowd once again by your cousin as he tries to find an open space.

"think somebody tried to touch my ass," you tell him with disgust, patting your wrinkled skirt.

he opens his mouth to respond, but his attention's quickly taken away by someone else; the young man who just came out of nowhere goes to hug your cousin and the two engages in some bro handshake while you just stare, looking as out of place as one can be.

the stranger doesn't seem to notice you until wooyoung switches his gaze back and actually introduces you.

"right. this is my cousin i've been telling you guys all about," he says, nodding your direction that prompts the man to turn to you with an immediate smile.

"ah," the man churns. "y/n, right? i've heard you got quite the personality."

he holds out a hand and you return the gesture politely. if you actually gave a shit about guys, you'd say this man is actually quite pleasant to the eyes.

"oh, i'm curious about just what kind of things wooyoung's saying behind my back," you reply, a faint smirk already on your lips as you meet wooyoung's gaze behind this man.

"nothing but good things, of course," he cries dramatically, rolling his eyes simultaneously; the sight erupting a chuckle from the man whose name you still don't know.

"seonghwa," he finally says, the answer pulling your eyes back to his.

"seonghwa," you repeat to yourself with a tiny smile. "nice to meet you."

then comes hongjoong after; someone whose entrance is a lot bigger in comparison to seonghwa, something about the way he presents himself earning some respect from you--and you can't say that about many people.

seonghwa's a close second, but you probably like hongjoong the best out of wooyoung's friends.

but it's not even a competition regarding who you like least, because you know it the second you're left alone with him when everyone but you and him decides to sit out a drinking game (huge mistake).

"who do you think is gonna win?"

"that was so stupid, if i was playing, i would never do that."

"oh, i really like this song."

"people likes to tell me i got a talent for singing but i don't really know."

you appreciate him for trying to break the ice, but right now, you'd rather watch paint dry.

"look, i really don't care," you spit out, the first words you've spoken ever since the rest left you guys to be.

and you almost expect him to be offended, but you shouldn't have been surprised when he just gawks at you, seemingly unfazed. judging from his obnoxious personality, it only makes sense he has a higher than usual tolerance for someone like you.

"wow," he says casually. "wooyoung's right. you are mean."

you fake a smile and turn your attention back to the ensuing chaos happening in front, voice barely above a whisper but loud enough for jongho to hear, "perfect. i'm glad i got my point across."

"he also said it's best we don't get too close to you even if you're his cousin. but that's okay, i think you're totally hot."

the comment makes you snap your neck to him, a scoff escaping your lips and incredulity crossing your face because you can see his gaze lowering to the end of your skirt.

"seriously, fuck off before i hurt your feelings," you curse at him, rolling your eyes one last time and brushing past his shoulder harshly to get elsewhere, but the boy chases behind you much to your annoyance.

"please! i'm sorry! i didn't mean to!" you can hear him through the shouting music, but you're just dead set on losing him at this point, going everywhere and anywhere; the thoughts of san completely forgotten at the appearance of another problem, when the sudden pierce of a laughter reminds you of it all over again.

one so familiar and close as if you've been hearing it for years, swiftly turning your head to the source, and there he is. choi mother fucking san.

all the reasons and explanations for why he has been acting so strange, and why he blew you off this very night. all so he could come to this party with the very same bitch he told you he didn't care for.

now suddenly sitting across from her and fondly looking at her; a sight that makes your stomach queasy, you don't even care jongho has caught up to you as he bumps right into your back.

in the span of just a few days, san, for the very first time, tells you no and lets you down.

-`♡´-

a/n: i literally cannot use a divider or the post won't show up in the tags 🤡 but there it is, folks. the start of another mess. i'm a liar & for anyone waiting on sweetest lies, i swear i tried so hard to write the final chapter, it literally put me in a writing slump bc i was just not making any progress at all. i just needed to write something and writing this has got me out of the slump temporarily, so for you sweetest lies readers, pls wait just a little more 🙏

taglist: @sorryimananti-romantic @cherrychristie @santineez @barbielibra

[blindmagdalena]

If A-Train was able to get a redemption arc, I don’t see why Homie couldn’t get one (I know he won’t). It’s just so annoying to me when people say Homie is irredeemable. I mean of all the villains of the show, he actually has a reason to be one based on what Vought did to him as a child and then as an adult. Like duh. What did they think would happen?? A-Train on the other hand, didn’t really have a reason to be a villain. He grew up with a loving family. He just turned out to be an asshole but gets a redemption arc. I just really want justice for Homie but it’ll never happen in canon. Thank goodness for fanfic and all the wonderful work you do!!!

so, i feel like there's a fundamental misunderstanding of the redemption arc here. the real reason Homelander is "irredeemable" is because he doesn't seek redemption. he has neither the moral capacity nor the desire.

redemption arcs aren't about who has the saddest backstory or who's more "justified" in their villainy. they're about people who feel genuine remorse for their actions and make the choice to do better. to atone.

Homelander doesn't believe he's in the wrong. he fully believes that he is justified in everything he does, and everyone he hurts. unless that CORE truth of his character changes, no, he cannot have a redemption arc.

A-Train, on the other end, is a perfect example of a well-executed redemption arc. he was absolutely NOT an asshole for no reason. sure, he wasn't raised in a lab, but his life was still FULL of abuse and exploitation. from the moment he was born, his parents pumped him full of an experimental drug. his father died when he was still a baby, and his mother worked two jobs while his young brother raised him. kids can't raise kids. his situation was tragic. i mean, for god's sake, his powers developed when he was a three year old (!!!!!!!!!!) because he was running away from the bullets of a deadly shooting towards his home.

so from the age of three, he became the breadwinner for his family. he was trained and likely performed in all kinds of ways. there's no way he didn't with how poor his family was. once he was old enough, he got picked up into Vought's programming and continued to endure god knows what kind of abuse from them. we know for a FACT that every child star of Vought ends up miserable and ruined in some way from the shit they're put through.

remember why he fell in love with Popclaw? "Here's someone who isn't afraid to be happy."

that's heartbreaking. he worked his ass off his entire life and didn't even know how to be happy because of it. even when he went to GodU, Brink commented that he was "the most driven kid he trained." because he had no choice! he was the one supporting his family out of poverty.

i'm not saying A-Train is perfect. i'm not even saying he wasn't an asshole. he was! but to claim he had no reason to turn out the way he did isn't fair. he did a lot of shitty things, he turned to drugs when his powers started to fail him, and he accidentally killed a woman because he was blitzed out of his mind on V... doing a drug run for Homelander. he's then forced by Homelander to kill the woman he loves. he did a cowardly, vile thing, and he has expressed nothing but anguish over it ever since.

but like... in the grand scheme of things, was he really that bad? he spirals and struggles. he gets mocked, he tries desperately to find his identity. the fact his brother shames him for not being connected to a community he was unplugged from because he was shunted into fame and exploitation at a young age sucks.

Reggie, that sweet little boy, was failed in every conceivable way and he became a dysfunctional adult that did shitty stuff because of it. now he's gained perspective and he's working to make different choices. i've been hugely invested in his arc because it's GOOD character work.

so while i appreciate and agree with the sentiment and wanting better for Homelander, redemption comes to those who seek it. so far, we have not seen any indication Homelander ever will. maybe he'll pull a Darth Vader moment at the eleventh hour for Ryan's sake, who knows!

either way, on his own merit, A-Train deserves the chance to be and do better.

[chondrichthyes-x-mantodea]

Personal views on adoption as a pro-adoption radfem (this one's a bit controversial)

I've just run into some radfem posts that voice disagreement with adoption. I have stated my support of adoption, so I figured I should make a post about my actual views in contrast to the views of those who are anti-adoption.

Let me start by saying the system is HEAVILY flawed. Kids are torn from families who do not have the means to meet legal standards for parental care. However... does that mean all adoption is a result of this happening? Let me share a story.

When I was hospitalized for mental distress, I met a young girl who was being adopted. She was 12-13 if I remember correctly. I dont want to say exactly what that poor girl had been through, but she NEEDED this. Her parents were unfit to care for her. In fact, she stated many times that for her age, it was rare to be adopted.

I would consider her adoption a necessary event. There are many other cases of this aswell, and they primarily affect young GIRLS. I knew a little girl who was adopted from China after being abandoned for her sex and a deformity. She got the basic medical care she needed because she was adopted into a family that saw past genetics.

So, while the adoption system can absolutely abuse families in unfortunate circumstances, is this a sign we need to abolish it or a sign we need to fix it?

And if you want to talk about exploitative, would you rather the system that allows unfortunate children the opportunity of family in a culture that already stigmatizes adopted children, or women go through the medical field in terms of fertility treatments and pregnancy?

I was a product of IVF. My disdain for this "treatment" knows no bounds. My conception was shrouded in difficulty. Difficulty that (surprise!) was blamed on the woman, not the man. Blamed on the younger, healthier woman who had already concieved a child rather than the overweight, 31 year old man missing sex organs. The woman was pumped with hormones to force ovulation to the point of ovarian cysts while the man just came in a cup, no questions asked. No hormones were given. No times he had to be on a table, legs spread while a male doctor treated him as a woman's breeder. By the way, those ovarian cysts were also ignored. And how were they fixed? More hormones. The female body to the medical system is like an electronic a male takes into the repair store. Turn her on and off, twist her screws, until she works for him. Even 20 years later, this guy can't even recall what his wife went through in order to have a child with him. The other day, we went past the pharmacy she had to get supplements from... he did not know what she meant by "I used to go there."

Would you rather women go through pregnancy in which they are an afterthought? Would you rather women continue to surrender themselves to the slaughterhouse we call "family planning", especially in a culture that insists on it. Which brings me to my next point.

Culture. If you think adoption has been normalized in our society, you haven't really looked around. The times I've heard infertile people (mostly women) whine and sob about how they can't be parents, and then outright refuse to consider adoption is insane. The amount they ADMIT that they don't think adopted kids are real kids is insane. Again, it's mostly women who argue this. They say that the love of a child they didn't carry isnt the same... as if carrying a child is some fun game. It is a result of the patriarchy enforcing an unrealistic view of female processes. It's almost fetishized. We view the process as a woman's pain for a mans entertainment. That is why it's so essential in our everyday lives. People are OBSESSED with the idea of a woman toiling for a mans comfort. In this case, his comfort is watching her gestate his fetus. That's also why women are told to put on a persona. Walk around with a fetus stealing your nutrients, parade your body around as a mans trophy, and lovingly cast eyes upon your stomach while posing like a fucking show horse. The heterosexual dynamic DEMANDS this. All of this, to me, tells me you shouldn't have kids. If a child needs to stem from your weird patriarchy fetish and obsession with genes, you shouldn't have kids at all. They're more of an asset than anything. I feel like this is the case for most purposeful conception in fact.

Finally, we have the treatment of "birth mothers." To preface, I am absolutely against women having children they WANT taken away from them. However, I think it's again important to look at the socialization of women and how our lack of mentioning men proves my point. Fitting in right with my part on social attitude, we see pregnancy and childbirth as an undeniable swelling of emotions. This is not the case for everyone. The goal of childbirth is to make it out alive, not to be rewarded a screaming red infant. Some parents want their child, and some don't. That is just how it goes, and we see this in the animal kingdom as well. Many social animals will adopt rejected infants and/or eggs. Humans are the ones who make this controversial. In the case of surrogacy and adoption, I always see people complain about the poor, instinct-infested woman. The issue is abusing the wants and needs of women, not daring to threaten the sanctity of new motherhood (another very specific fascination in our collective society). If this was about the emotions of said people, why don't we include the father? It's simple: women are made to feel guilty about adoption and delude themselves into performing an ultimate show of motherly love. Women are taught to romanticize the idea of being pregnant and unconditionally loving a fetus as soon as it's concieved. Men aren't.

Now again, I'm not saying that parents can not love their children at birth, nor am I advocating for children being forcefully taken. I'm more questioning the view of female intention within that love and the trend of singling out a woman. My point does have merit. Why do we act the way we do? Why do we see things the way we see? But every time I call out this type of behavior and question it, I'm treated as if I'm stomping on the pure joy of a tearful mother... whatever, I guess.

Even my mother, who went through IVF to have me with a man who pretends to worship her, said that she did not feel the same love she feels now. She thought she would when she went through treatment, she fell for the trap. We emphasize motherly love in such an inhuman way. It's not a genuine bond. I guess that's why I've always envied men. They stand on the side and seem to love children as a human connected to another human, undefined by unrealistic myths on their brain chemistry. Motherly love to me has to be theatrical and cheesy, based on my pain and suffering, not my human ability to form connection. Fathers get to HAVE children while I AM a mother.

So again, while adoption can be exploitative, you should also consider the other oppressing forces in our current lives. The issue isn't adoption. It's the attitude and people in charge of it. It's the conditioning of women to hurt themselves for giving up a child. Its the women being told lies about a process and viewing it as purely the making of another being, not their welfare. If this isn't an issue for men, maybe consider it's the fact we shove baby dolls in young girls' arms as soon as they themselves are born. Genuinely wanting a child is completely different from being told you should want it your whole life.

[coolbeansnico]

I've caved. Here's my Avatar The Last Airbender uni au and modern/non bender au headcanons.

Here's what I think the main kids uni majors/minors would be:

Aang: wildlife conservation with a minor in political sciences

Katara: medicine, education minor

Sokka: engineering, polisci minor

Toph: geology with a martial arts minor (changed my mind, education minor)

Zuko: forced to do law & politics by his family but switches to history/anthropology, keeping politics as a minor

Azula: law w a psychology minor

Mai: forced to do politics by family but wants to do art, history minor

Ty Lee: training in acrobatics and performance at a performing arts school and works at the circus

Suki: human relations and activism, martial arts minor

Yue: Dance major (same school as Ty Lee, polisci minor

☆

Living situations:

Katara and Sokka flat together and eventually Aang becomes a permanent resident

Toph lives right across from them, she likes her own space and independence but she'd never want to be too far from her friends

Zuko lives with Iroh above his teashop and works there part time

Suki has a sharehouse with the kyoshi warriors (her hockey team)

Ty Lee and Yue get assigned room-mates first year and became pretty quick friends, they continue to live together afterwards

Azula has her own apartment (of course). So does Mai, but she spends so much time at Azulas she basically lives there. Neither of them would admit it but they much prefer it to having whole houses to themselves.

---

General modern au/non bender au hcs:

(Pretty obvious) Ethnicity n nationality hcs:

Sokka and Katara r Inuit and from Alaska

Azula, Zuko and Mai are all Japanese American

Ty Lee is Japanese and Mongolian

Toph is Chinese and Singaporean (born in Singapore)

Aang is Bhutanese (so is Gyatso), but he grew up in Singapore. Him and Toph were childhood friends

Yue is Inuit and Sámi and her family lives in north-east Canada

Suki is mixed Chinese, Filipino and French-Canadian and live in an island off of Quebec

Have not decided where the uni would be but probably BSSU (Ba Sing Se uni) cause I know a lot of ppl use that as the uni name

I don't know a ton about US and Canadian geography so if y'all have ideas for what states or provinces the characters would hail from (especially what state/city Zuko, Azula, Mai and Ty Lee grew up in) I would def appreciate the suggestions

☆

Aang has a Tibetan Mastiff called Appa and Sokka has a Siamese cat called Momo (he found him behind a dumpster looking for food scraps and Sokka knew he'd found a kindred spirit,,, much to Kataras initial dismay)

Aang grew up in a sort of hippie/alternative living foster home that taughtbuddist beliefs, he never knew his real parents but he was okay with that.

I'm a fan of bigcorp ceo Ozai but also political tyrant Ozai works as well so I'm srsly torn on that. Politician Ozai would either have to be a nation ruler or American ambassador because I like to think Zuko and Azula moved around a lot as kids so he couldn't have a job that keeps him in ine place. That's why I like the idea of ceo Ozai. He would still have a lot of political power and it would still mean moving around a lot plus him being super corrupt and exploiting his workers is fun for angst.

Oh and!! Zuko and Azula lived in Singapore for part of highschool and their family visited a lot for holidays. Since Tophs parents and Ozai worked together, Zuko and Azula were around at The Beifongs a lot and entertained themselves by making fun of Toph for hanging out with a "poor tree hugging commoner" like Aang

---

I may add more to this so look out for a part 2

♡♡

I'm currently working on drawing them (and maybe chara profiles with sexualities, pronouns, character aesthetics/how I think they'd dress, interests ect) :] I've done the boys and the (non fire nation) gals are next!!

-

EDIT!! here's the link to the post with the art!!

https://www.tumblr.com/coolbeansnico/784488250608943104/atla-uni-au-pt-3?source=share

[ms-nesbit]

title: magical realism (jason todd/reader)

rating: 18+

TW: eventual violence, smut, language? idk what else. political talk as well

words: 1.3k

summary: jason can't enjoy himself at a showing.

ao3

Jason reclined in the dusted and stained theatre seat, his shoulder blades kissing the brim of the back. His eyes struggled to stay open as his breath deepened, chest rising and falling in greater lengths than usual. His heartbeat slowed and softened, an unusual feat for a paranoid vigilante. Still, Jason posted the exits in the back of his noggin, in the event that his enemies (or siblings - not far different from his foes) presented themselves to him.

It wasn’t the theme of the show that bored him - in fact, Jason purchased tickets as soon as they were readily available online; it was the sleep cycle, however, that burdened Jason’s physical health, in his endless feat of good versus bad, him versus himself.

Crossing his arms, he felt his breath push through his nostrils, a few locks of his salt and pepper hair falling to his face like a blanket over his eyes, that now surrendered to his growing need for slumber. His head fell forward until his chin met his collar, where his head bobbed then stopped.

In the row behind his, a woman continued to quietly critique his poor etiquette, beginning with his attire. “I mean, look at the holes in his jeans.” she spat, disgust firm on her silver tongue, “It’s like a rat gnawed and got too grossed out by the taste of the denim.”

“Jesus, Clarice, it’s not that big a deal.” another muttered. “Besides, I saw you gush over a pair that looked just like that at Urban Outfits the other week. What were they you called them?” She stopped and proceeded with a tone heavy in mockery. “Distressed.”

“That’s different, y/n.” Clarice excused. “Besides, a stylist took care of those jeans and carefully designed them…”

“Uh-huh. And then that designer shipped off the prototype to god knows what country for little kids to recreate. With cheaper material.” y/n replied truthfully.

Clarice huffed. “At least I’m not wearing them right now.”

Y/n let out a stringy breath on one side of her mouth, the minty-booze-infused scent carrying to Jason’s seat. “Yeah, but you paid fifty dollars for what this guy did for free.”

The comment made Jason chuckle to himself, still half asleep. The conversation entertained - and bothered - him, but he was, more than anything, drawn to the thick voice of y/n as she continued to fire insults and snippy comments to her peer.

“You don’t understand the pained artist.” Clarice concluded with an exasperated huff belonging only to the wealthiest of the state of New York.

Y/n shook her head, kicking back in her seat and using the one beside Jason’s as a footrest. Her pointed black stilettos displayed in contrast to the darkness of the theatre, still playing despite the most compelling conversation in the balcony where they sat. “S’pose not. Though those children’s fingers and empty bellies do.” Y/n kissed her teeth, annoyance spelled out clearly, even to Jason. “And the artistry of exploitation among shareholders gambling on the success - or fail! - of a multimillion-dollar corporation that will, inevitably, fall, joining the destruction of those it conquered during its time of glory.

“Unless exploitation is not art, but a mere weapon, for these vipers to dig their fangs underneath the skins of proletariats, sinking their poison to further drive these poor people into a far greater debt, to sell their faith for another dollar to stretch for their families and their own health, which will in turn be spent on the poison, that will sink into them again, and again, and again.”

“Marx?” Jason asked drowsily, turning his head only slightly to pay mind to the conversation behind him.

“Close.” y/n replied. “Engels. Co-author, if you believe it.” She shrugged and murmured while fixing her top, “Not that there are a fair amount of female political philosophers.”

Jason hummed in agreement. “Depends on your definition.” He turned fully now, his arm over the back of his seat, baring his muscular arm to the women behind him. “I mean some may, with her association with Cuban’s communist movement Trotsky, note Frida Kahlo as a political philosopher; her political art was not only a pivot for Mexican-American art assimilation and inspiration, but she was an active member of Mexico’s communist party, and refused to back down from it when not even her old-ass husband agreed with her actions.”

Y/n nodded, useless as it was a dim theatre. “And most abolitionists should be heavily regarded as political philosophers,” y/n added, “given their often ambitious ideology for a racially integrated poly-economic country.”

“I’m Jason.” With ferocity, he stared at y/n through his messy locks that draped over his eyes. His attire matched his dialect, blunt and lax, but his appearance was too fixated. Intense. It was almost paranoid, if y/n had to put her finger on it.

“Y/n.” she replied, ignoring Clarice, who puffed at them. Jason shot Clarice a warning glare, causing her to retreat into her seat with a sharp exhale, before he returned, then softened, his gaze to y/n.

“Would you like to continue this debate somewhere more appropriate?”

Y/n grinned cheekily at Jason’s direct question. “Show ends in…” she glances at her watch, “...fifteen or so minutes. After that, I’m all yours.”

“Can’t wait.” His eyes glossed over, while looking y/n over, intent heavy in his look.

[lightgriffinsect]

i’m gonna hunt whoever discouraged susie from playing piano for sport

also more susie lore…god she’s so real… i love her so much and it’s so nice to see her faced with something that for all its danger shows her how important she really is

i’m so sure she was expelled or severely punished in some previous school for something less serious than eating chalk given how convinced she was in chapter 1 that she was going to get expelled. the poor girl has been through some horrid school experiences

her parents/guardians probably never properly disciplined her as a child which is why she was such a “bad kid” her whole life. never got the encouragement and second chances a child needs to grow and learn. and obviously aside from them there was no one else to do that for her. hence the threatening to bite kris’ face off like fredbear’s family diner /lh

also also i know ive been giving ralsei a lot of flack (affectionate) but!! the poor guy!! is cursed with the burden of knowing too much and being so lonely and mentally like 15! these are three scared teenagers trying their best to save the world and they’re doing such a good job for heroes so young and you gotta wonder if they wish there was someone to tell them that

also also also kris and the soul being trapped together. you know it. so very tragic, mostly for kris, i keep trying to pick the answers i think kris would give at every dialogue choice prompt so something goes their way even if they still don’t get a choice </3

the fight with the statue that isn’t gerson was insanely well done, the foreboding atmosphere as a result of relying on sounds in total darkness was very eerie and cool. also GREEN SOUL MECHANIC!!! BECAUSE GERSON AND UNDYNE!!!!

susie not knowing enough about who gerson is and why his appearance is so significant because she’s new </3 also when she blamed herself for making the second dark world even though she didn’t really know how much things would change

it’s really cool to see how much they’ve all grown, susie really is so empathetic and compassionate and ralsei is so brave, kris is so driven to help their friends even despite what they’ve been doing behind the scenes, who they’re in cahoots with

although i think they’re actually being exploited because. once again look at them they’re a teenager. lmao

ngl i’m kinda glad the metal doesn’t play when they seal the fountain now i think this fits the vibe better lol

anyway i think carol is the most likely person to be the knight

edit: upon beating chapter 4 and taking some time to mull over the events of the game i now believe the knight is probably dess

[manmadejoyswithinmycomprehension]

Can you do a sebastian(pressure), not a reader but a expendable, and Sebastian though at first his same snarky self but now is fatherly to the character, saying things like way to go kid and im proud of you.

This was really fun to do! But I don't know what you meant by "not a reader, but an expendable," so I just decided to make it gender neutral. You're my first ever request, so thank you!! :3

wc: 464

At first, he didn't really think much of it. After all, the blacksite was full of prisoners, and even if twenty of them died in the same hour, they'd be replaced instantly by a new batch of imbeciles who thought they could conquer whatever abominations resided within the facility. Sebastian wasn't one to pity them. I mean, who would? It's a prison, for fuck's sake! Even if Urbanshade had unfair trials, it still housed the world's most wanted criminals - murderers, tattooed from head to toe, cartel members, mafia enthusiasts and other scums that came into his shop, threatened him to try and bag a blacklight for a lower price, and then... well, then they got shot.

But it had been weeks since this whole operation started, and no one managed to snag the crystal. Prisoners that were once cruel and infamous turned into a younger batch who was arrested for graffiti and stealing gum packets from the local supermarket. Some were even students, and Sebastian couldn't help but see himself in them - afraid, alone and hopeless. He'd never admit it, but seeing them drop dead one by one tugged at his heart strings. But the thing that worried him most was a particular expendable who returned to his shop every now and then, seeking shelter. Sebastian and that person had a lot in common, and although he was colder at first, now he'd found himself warming up to this new friend. If a code breacher was 200 data for another prisoner, this expendable would have it for 150. And don't even worry about batteries! They're on the house, of course. There's too many laying around either way (but between us, there weren't - Sebastian could only be glad that his friend wasn't exploiting him, otherwise he'd go bankrupt).

Frankly, he treated them as family. Instead of snarky comments, he'd gently pat their head and tell them he's proud. And he was, really! His eyes would light up when they brought more data or trinkets to gift him. Soon, he had them help to build a shelf for all of the "treasures" he received. It wasn't rare to see Sebastian and the prisoner spend hours on end conversing about common hobbies and interests. If only he still had his electric guitar... but, no matter. It was still fun. For the first time in so many years, he felt like he had a family. Like he was a father, and this poor soul was his child. Taking care of them and occasionally their friends, showing them around the blacksite and teaching them how to avoid monsters were his favorite activities. Even more than that, he liked how the days ended: with his kid wrapped up in his tail as he stroked their head and told them stories.

[madelynhimegami]

Lemres Guide

Tossing this out before leaving for work. I've almost definitely forgotten something

Lemres's general goal is to make those around him happy.

It's why he talks the way he does (especially in Japanese) and why he's so eager to give people sweets and desserts.

While he's very much aware of others being initially suspicious of him, he doesn't seem to realize that it's the aforementioned that does it.

My guess is, he believes people consider him sketchy is because of his outfit's colors.

Fever 2's description of his transformation item says that the robes of certified mages (at least in Primp's world) are enchanted to reflect the magic of the person wearing it.

Lemres's magic, much to his chagrin, is predisposed to dark magic, hence the darker green color.

He comes from am aristocratic family of dark mages. His parents often exploited his skill with magic to boost their reputation. He didn't like this.

It was during this period of his life that he learned how to bake, so he could do something with his hands that wasn't what his parents wanted.

He often snuck out of his house to share what he made with wild animals.

A chance encounter with Prince Salde led to Lemres first transforming him into the fish form he so often uses.

Salde's desire to flee from his home in search of freedom was what led to Lemres ultimately doing the same.

As mentioned, Lemres is a certified sorcerer, which is why he holds the title of Comet Warlock.

That being said, Lemres is still in school. He's high school student-aged (so 16-18), in fact.

He has opted to continue learning at his school, instead of accepting any apprenticeships he's been offered.

Lemres is perfectly capable of crafting his treats with magic, but prefers to continue making it by hand.

When he pulls treats from seemingly nowhere, he's actually summoning them from his (physical?) storage.

Lemres typically powers his spells using his own blood sugar as an energy source. It's easier for him to not perform any dark magic that way.

Either way, he eats the candy and pastries he makes to keep himself healthy.

Otherwise he risks becoming hypoglycemic when he uses too much magic (hence his story in 20th).

The other side of Lemres overall wanting to make people happy, is that he never wants to do anything that will make somebody unhappy. Even if it would mean making a better choice.

Generally, Lemres has pretty good social intelligence, and is able to read situations well.

He's at his best when he's helping others with simple problems. For instance, when Feli was struggling with Swap rules in Tet2, or when he bumped into Carbuncle in Puzzle Pop.

As things get more complex and/or personal, it becomes increasingly clear that Lemres gets awkward and makes poor decisions.

He's quite well aware of just how much Feli and Klug admire/crush on him, but he doesn't feel comfortable asserting his boundaries. He thinks if he flat-out rejects them, it would hurt them. So he feels like he has to just kinda awkwardly deal.

He is highly evasive where it concerns things he's in the know about that are not immediately part of the current story's plot, prefering to just say "It's nothing, don't worry about it" (whether it works, depends on who's paying attention).

He's particularly evasive about anything related to the Tome of Sealing, or about Sig's power, even when one or both are immediately part of the current story's plot.

The first time (since moving to Primp) that Sig started losing control of his power, Lemres tried to suggest to a worrying Amitie that maybe Sig just needed some time to breathe, away from her. Despite knowing full well that was absolutely not the issue.

(Amitie just became terrified that she had been a terrible friend)

Lemres isn't so stuck to his lies that he doesn't know when to fess up when there's no denying the truth, though. He's the one to first say, point-blank, that Sig will die if he can't rein in his power.

Granted, he's still very much still a kid. His poor decisions are also partially the result of just being an awkward teenager.

Example, when he encountered blackout-drunk Klug, he decided to not do anything about it, reasoning that it would pass through his system eventually, right?

He also didn't do so well with trying to convince Ecolo not to resort to murder.

And then there's his aforementioned fanclub, which he especially doesn't know what to do about when they start getting at each other's throats.

He outright admits to Lidelle that he wishes he knew how to get Klug and Feli to stop fighting.

He often consults Accord on serious matters, but as Lemres is not one of her students, it's not exactly clear what sort of relationship they have.

He probably has a similar working relation with Akuma, but we don't see it often because Akuma's isn't shown anymore.

Lemres does not attend Primp Magic School. He goes to an elite school at an as-of-yet-unnamed town located across the desert just outside of Primp Town.

If the fact that he got a sorcerer title while still in high school (and his boss-tier Puyo AI) didn't tip you off, Lemres genuinely is a genius at magic. He's able to figure out what he does about the given story's events because of how quick he is at figuring stuff out.

When engaging with others, Lemres generally tries to be polite, encouraging, and giving others the benefit of the doubt, regardless of personal feelings.

The only exception is when he eats baked sweets made by others. By force of habit, he'll become very nitpicky and critical of them.