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drchucktingle · 1 year ago

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THE TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION TELLS CHUCK TINGLE TO STAY HOME BUT WE PROVE LOVE ANYWAY

just when you buckaroos thought 2024 would be a break from book drama, here comes chuck tingle in the mix. recently i was asked to be a featured speaker at the TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION annual conference. a few days ago they rescinded my invitation. here is what happened.

(EDITED TO ADD THIS LINK. if you have a hard time reading this on way of tumblr you can also read for free on chucks patreon)

i would like to start off by saying it is not my intent to start a fight, and all those reading this should know that the actions of a few misguided folks do not speak for the whole TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION. i am sure there are many involved who will be very upset to learn what others at TLA have done in their name. there are many individuals here, so please do not paint them all as villains in your mind. besides, chuck loves the dang library everyone knows that.

the point of writing this is not to vilify. i am writing this is because MOMENTS OF DARKNESS are the best places to SHINE A LIGHT AND PROVE LOVE IS REAL. this is a perfect time for learning and growing and for us talk on some very important things that queer buckaroos and neurodivergent buckaroos face every day. this is an unfortunate moment that WE can turn around and use to prove love is real.

i am also writing this to understand some of my own personal feelings on the matter. for something that seems very simple on the surface, the trot is complex, and i am still working out my emotions on the whole dang thing. i am learning in this way.

PART ONE: BAG OF LOVE

a few months ago chuck was asked to be a featured speaker at the 2024 TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION ANNUAL CONFERENCE. i have been asked to do things like the before and it is ALWAYS a fun time to meet bookseller and librarian buds. trotting around face to face and talking about my story of conquering chronic pain and overcoming my mental hurdles is VERY IMPORTANT to me. i say YES to these things whenever i can. (here i am with authors at CALIFORNIA INDEPENDENT BOOKSELLERS ALLIANCE conference. they are a WONDERFUL group and they proved love with their OWN invitation to chuck. this was such a moving event with so many amazing authors and stories. got very teared up during this photo)

ANYWAY BUCKAROOS i get the TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION invite and say 'YES BUD LETS TROT'. we are then confirmed.

months pass. a few weeks ago i get a call from my manager and agent and publisher saying ‘the TLA have rescinded their invitation.’

turns out some things had been going on behind the scenes

at some point the TLA asked chucks INCREDIBLE HEROIC BAD ASS PUBLISHER if chuck would be okay with not wearing the mask, to which tor/nightfire/macmillan said ‘what the heck are you talking about of course chuck is going to wear his mask. this is how chuck presents himself’ (NOT EXACT QUOTE)

as you all know, my pink bag way is a VERY IMPORTANT SPACE. as an autistic buckaroo it is a boundary that allows me to express myself freely and relieve my chronic pain from neurotypically masking all day. i have talked about this for years, and it is why i consider my private identity a SACRED THING. it is literally a health issue.

fortunately THE PINK BAG is never really a problem when making appearances. i have spent years going on television shows, doing interviews, speaking at other conferences and conventions, hosting book events on tour, and even MEETING WITH LAWYERS in my pink face covering. it is always respected and that is very validating to my way.

when arriving anywhere i always take precautions. i always warn buckaroos ahead of time that there is a masked man coming. i always have someone go in ahead of me JUST IN CASE. again, there has never been an issue. at a big conference where i am a special guest there is ESPECIALLY not an issue because my face and bio are printed IN THE DANG PROGRAM

SOME FUN TIMES AT BIG EVENTS BELOW:

CHUCK ON TV SHOW NAME OF 'AT MIDNIGHT' BACK BEFORE I WROTE LOVE IS REAL ON MY HEAD:

well, there has never been an issue.... UNTIL NOW.

PART TWO: RESCINDED

a few days ago TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION suddenly messaged my publishers and said that chuck tingle is no longer invited. my invitation was rescinded. the reason given was that people could possibly be uncomfortable with my mask

right out of the gate i would like to say this: it is absolutely the right of the texas library association to disinvite someone from their conference. it is their event, after all, and they can ban anyone they would like, for any reason.

of course, that doesnt mean other folks HEARING THIS NEWS wont have their own opinions the TLA choices. if the TLA disinvites someone, their reasoning for doing this can be discussed and analyzed. whether or not they follow their own guidelines can be questioned, and certainly their kindness and tact can be considered

there are a few BIG POINTS to make regarding this choice from the TLA

first and foremost, i just gotta say buckaroos, it is incredibly rude to invite someone to be a guest speaker at your event, have them confirm and mark off their calendar and turn down other offers, then rescind their invitation. this is maybe the simplest of the points, but it is an important one.

second, (DEEP BREATH HERE WE GO BUCKAROOS) i personally do not think of my autism as a disability very often, but i also KNOW that despite these feelings it ABSOLUTELY IS. autism is important to be listed as a recognized disability because of the help some autistic buckaroos need regarding government programs and things like that. ALSO just because my neurodivergence has helped me in some ways (hyperfocus and a unique artistic sensibility for example). i personally need to step back and remember my battle with stress and chronic pain from having to neurotypically mask all the time. for as much as i love being autistic it has made some things very difficult.

in other words, i am perfectly capable of speaking and interacting with folks without this pink bag on my head BUT WHEN I AM IN THE CHUCK TINGLE SPACE I REQUIRE IT. i can ONLY use this space while covering my face. is not a want. it is a need. holding this boundary is more important than i can ever say. i will not, and can not, let these spaces cross.

TLA not letting an autistic author wear the face cover theyve set up to express their neurodivergence in a safe, healthy way is--for lack of a better term--NOT A GOOD LOOK.

i cannot fathom them disinviting another author for using a disability aid. i cannot fathom them saying that a buckaroo who hears better with a hearing device cannot use it during their panel because it would make others 'uncomfortable'.

but here we are.

PART THREE: WHAT DOES A BUCKAROO GOTTA DO TO GET BANNED AROUND HERE?

this is the TLAs official stance on disability issues according to their website:

when poking around on the TLA website i noticed a few other things. i noticed a previous guest speaker wearing a niqab, and i was left wondering if the religious significance is what make that okay but chuck tingle banned. that made sense until i looked deeper and saw mascot buckaroos dressed up on the exhibition floor, and saw some kind of spiderbud in a costume contest. nobody around them seemed to be all that scared. their invitations REMAINED INTACT.

it should be mentioned here that AT ONE POINT during the discussions an email was sent from TLA saying chuck is allowed to come and wear his mask in the exhibition halls and smaller panels, just not at any of the big PAID PANELS i was once supposed to participate on. this was a confusing offer, but their explanation was that people who paid for something should have the option to not see chucks 'scary neurodivergence aid'. i tried to wrap my head around WHY they would make a distinction. maybe the exchange of money (rather than time) causes some kind of philosophical adjustment that i just cant grasp?

i wonder, would the author who wears a niqab ALSO be banned from the paid panels? i hope not

my answers trotted up short until i investigated deeper and found this quick moment from one of the TLA help videos. while some events DO require additional buckaroo cash, it actually appears that THE ENTIRE CONFERENCE IS TICKETED AND COSTS MONEY.

at this point i realized there is clearly no actual official policy about not covering your face (other than one from a few years ago saying that you HAVE to cover your face), and the addition of 'money' is a red herring. these excuses make no sense

PART FOUR: CLOSE THOSE GATES

it appears that my neurodivergence is 'scary' enough to get me uninvited, REGARDLESS what their disability and mask policies may say

BUT WHY? why is chucks preferred physical presentation valued SO little by the TLA that a THEORETICAL complaint is worth more? is my neurodivergent expression so awful? is my own safety as a queer activist such an afterthought?

is a pink bag with the words 'love is real' scrawled across the front REALLY going to frighten someone when the posters and pamphlets on the way into in panel would have a photo of my masked face saying THIS IS LITERALLY WHO IS ABOUT TO APPEAR BEFORE YOU.

if THAT accommodation is too much, would it really be so difficult to have someone trot out beforehand and make an announcement? to say 'there is someone on this upcoming panel who needs a mask to express this part of himself, if this makes you uncomfortable then this panel might not be for you'.

and really, i have to heckin ask, is this physical expression of my raw inner truth really so hideous and frightening that fear of making someone uncomfortable is a REAL problem?

(a terrifying display of autism. apparently)

i cannot imagine what kind of precautions they need to take before a stage play featuring costumes and masks.

you MIGHT think chucks queerness and left leaning politics could be the issue with this organization, but they have had drag queens as past speakers (also featuring some GLORIOUS makeup and hair that covers almost all of their faces. VERY CURIOUS). regardless, the TLA do not seem like a conservative bunch.

if you are bisexual or an autistic person who is good at 'passing' you probably already know where this is headed, your dang spiderbuckaroo senses are tingling at FULL ALERT. i will say i do not KNOW the real reason why i was uninvited, and i do not have enough information to make any concrete statement of the real answer. there is only evidence that masks have been fine at TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION events in the past, but not much else to go on.

so the FACTS part of our discussion ends there, but i think it opens us up to talk about some very important feelings that bisexual and autistic buckaroos know well.

THIS is where we take a unfortunate, hurtful moment and turn it into a discussion. this is where we prove love is real.

as someone who is constantly doubted and put through purity tests because of my unique way, we are pushing up against a subject i know well. thats right buckaroos: we are talking GATEKEEPING

AGAIN, i do not know if this is the answer, but someone in my position might be VERY STRONGLY INCLINED TO THINK that a few well-meaning left leaning buckaroos think i am a joke and that this is a character, and that there is something problematic about my work because i am not really a real person.

any upstanding left leaning organization would OF COURSE allow a mask for a neurodivergent buckaroo with an unusual visual presentation, an autistic buckaroo who conquered his chronic pain ONLY by creating this important space... but what about a FAKE autistic buckaroo?

any upstanding left leaning organization would OF COURSE allow a mask for a queer LGBTQ activist standing up for gay and trans rights against a torrent of scoundrels hunting for his legal identity. its a matter of safety... but what about a FAKE queer activist?

let me be very clear for the 100th time: i am a real person. this is not a joke. i am not playing a character. i am really autistic and bisexual. tinglers are sincere and they are not ‘so bad theyre good’. they are just good. camp damascus is not ‘my first serious book’ because my queer erotica is serious. my art is important and real.

when people tell me to unmask they often do not know WHY they want it, and of course one very good reason is innocent curiosity. but there are SOME cases where i start to get THAT feeling--that tingle all of us ‘passing’ buckaroos get when we can sense the real intent behind the poking and prodding. that is the feeling of stumbling into a gatekeepers crosshairs.

if i was to take off my pink bag, what about my face would you analyze to tell if i was REALLY queer. my eye color? my ear shape? if you learned my legal name, would you see if it sounded autistic? is my voice neurodivergent enough?

or is all of that utterly absurd? i am curious what the TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION thinks.

PART FIVE: GENDERED

this will be the shortest of parts, but it has to be said. i have a very complex relationship with gender, as written about at length here and here. i understand these things can be difficult to parse for some, but i ask that you trust me when i say that the ONLY reason i have been able to talk about my gender and sexuality and learn these things about myself is because of this pink bag. this outward appearance is a direct expression and reflection of my gender journey.

if the texas library association does not care about my appearance as an expression of my autism, then i cant imagine them giving a dang about it as an expression of my gender and queerness. that being said, it is personally very important to me and i think it should be mentioned

PART SIX: SO YOU WANT TO REMOVE AN AUTISTIC QUEER AUTHOR FROM YOUR EVENT BECAUSE PEOPLE MIGHT FIND THEIR DIFFERENCES SCARY

there is a question to be asked here: how could the TLA have done this correctly?

i have one very big piece of advice i would like to shout from the rooftops. please, for the love of sweet barbara, DO ENOUGH RESEARCH to know if this appearance will be a problem and, IF SO, dont extend an invitation in the first place. unique buckaroos with different presentations are constantly left in this place of limbo because we are bombarded with careless actions like those of the TLA. before you consider extending a branch to an artist who might need more accommodations than usual, think to yourself 'CAN WE MAKE THESE ACCOMMODATIONS?'

putting all of this on the shoulders of a single 'buckaroo with a difference' is exhausting. as the TLA has shown, we currently live on a timeline where a buckaroo like myself never really knows if an invite is SOLID without doing a deep dive history lesson on how often a group discriminates and against who.

i did not want to spend my whole family holiday worrying whether or not i should say something publicly or just lie down and shut my dang mouth. i had to consider HOW i should say it. i had to worry whether or not its worth standing up for myself in the face of the largest state library association in the country. i think buckaroos with differences are with me when i say: WE ARE SICK OF HAVING TO DO THIS WORK TO COVER FOR THE POOR BEHAVIOR OF LARGE ORGANIZATIONS WHO TREAT US BADLY

another option would just be to use kindness and common sense and happily accommodate artists with unique presentations to your conventions

PART SEVEN: LOVE IS STILL REAL

i would like to close by saying THANK YOU to my publisher nightfire and editor kelly for standing up for me. they immediately stood firm and had my back. they are the real dang deal. THANK YOU to my management and agent buds dongwon and gino for trotting along beside me. THANK YOU to the folks at the texas library association who initially invited chuck with goodness in their heart and then likely got bowled over by someone else, and maybe even got knocked to the side by a big closing gate.

i hope there are librarians in texas who are still interested in carrying BURY YOUR GAYS when it comes out (which is ironically about someone who creates a space through art to express their queerness where they cant otherwise). libraries prove love is real and what they do IS SO IMPORTANT. it was SO IMPORTANT TO ME as a young buckaroo and i cannot thank you enough. i am not sure if me writing all of this will hurt my sales in some way, but this opportunity to speak about the reality of disability awareness and queer gatekeeping is too important to stay silent. (if you have not already preordered BURY YOUR GAYS then give it a preorder to make up for some texas library losses i guess.)

which leads me to my final thank you. THANK YOU to the buckaroos reading this. yes YOU. i am in the position to stand up and speak my mind against scoundrel forces ONLY because i have the might of you buckaroos by my side. the buckaroo trot is ALL OF OUR TROT and we are ALL HERE TO PROVE LOVE. i cannot tell you how much i appreciate the way you have created a space for me to express these important parts of myself. you have seen this pink mask over my face and saying YES, I ACCEPT YOU, you have literally saved my life. for that i am so thankful.

if you are UPSET by what youve read here, then turn it into something positive. you can support autistic creators, or make a donation to the AUTISTIC SELF ADVOCACY NETWORK

and besides WHO IS REALLY MISSING OUT? this is what it looks like when you invite the worlds greatest author chuck tingle to your event and treat their identity as valid. WE HAVE A DANG GOOD TIME

youtube

KEEP TROTTING INTO THE FUTURE. KEEP KICKING DOWN GATES WHEREVER THEY MAY BE. KEEP PROVING LOVE IS REAL AND PROVING IT TOGETHER. lets go buckaroos - chuck

UPDATE AN HOUR AFTER POSTING:

true buckaroo TJ KLUNE was set to be another author on panel chuck was removed from and has informed me he has now chosen to decline his invitation in support and solidarity with chuck. i am so deeply moved by this. thank you from bottom of heart buckaroo

to be very clear TJ has a huge platform and DOES NOT NEED TO DO THIS. these conferences are great for book sales and he is taking a hit out of pure solidarity. this is queer buckaroos standing up for eachother. i am floored by this kindness and love

please consider checking out his books if they are not already covering your dang bookshelf. chuck blurbed IN THE LIVES OF PUPPETS and i was blown away i heckin loved it

MOST RECENT UPDATE:

here is more

#love is real #chuck tingle #tingleverse #texas library association #actually autistic #lgtbqia #Youtube

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laugh-of-the-medusa · 1 year ago

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THIS LMAO

The “Shepard Effect” has gotten so much funnier to me as I replay Mass Effect. The thing where all Shep’s squadmates end up flying the nest and becoming big important players in their own spheres? Like the random mercenary Shep brought along to hunt Saren ended up leading his entire species, that random Quarian kiddo on her Pilgrimage ends up as her species ambassador, the Virmire survivor becomes the next human Specter, etc. It’s the effect Shepard just has on the people around them that launches their careers/destinies… except it doesn’t apply to Shepard themself. I get the marketing plan of “Commander Shepard” being the only title so they’re more recognizeable to a gamer audience, but from a military perspective it is so fucking funny that Commander Shepard doesn’t get promoted once. Like not even posthumously, not even after saving the Citadel and killing Reapers left and right, all the while their squadmates are jumping from lieutenant to major, kid to ambassador, professor to Shadow Broker. Garrus isn’t even attached to any government body, and he still goes from C-Sec officer to Omega vigilante to Reaper expert(?) in the turian Hierarchy. It’s unclear what his official position is in the third game, but we know he gets a salute from a Hierarchy general.

And here’s Shepard cruising through, still a Commander because obviously they haven’t done a single thing worthy of promotion since the first game. No, it’s fine, they’ll fix everything for you and keep killing Reapers left and right. Died in the line of duty? Just a normal tuesday for Commander Shepard, nothing noteworthy here. Yes they will be the commanding officer of a major, there is nothing strange about this rank structure.

#my personal headcanon is that Shepard refuses promotions #I’m only a commander and these motherfuckers are asking me to do the impossible #I don’t wanna know what happens if I get promoted #like #screw the idea that being a specter means Shep’s title is moot #Shepard’s the worst fucking specter #*spectre #(I’m not going back to retype that)#like Shep’s entire shtick is like they’re Alliance first Spectre second #the whole designation #even from the beginning #felt like a fake title #sure they got the perks #(punching a sleaze bag and hearing his lawyer say is legal was funny af)#but Jesus #Shep’s allegiance is to the alliance first and the council second #would’ve loved a game that leaned more into council shenanigans #instead of being hackett’s feckin lapdog (affectionate)

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ineffectualdemon · 4 months ago

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Au where Shen Jiu's ghost has been silently haunting Qing Jing Peak since Shen Yuan took over. And yeah he's pissed and hurt that everyone prefers the imposter but then Yue Qingyuan in the meeting says it would be better if he was as he was before and eh softens a bit

And he spends most of his time with Yue Qingyuan and sees him mourn in private because even though he doesn't know Shen Jiu has been replaced he knows his Xiao Jiu is gone

But he also spies on Shang Qinghua and the Imposter. Especially post immortal alliance conference and finds out about transmigration and the system and investigates MORE and finds the system

And Shen Jiu does was Shen Jiu does best and because of that when Shen Qingqiu is being accused left right and center in Jin Lan City an angry man with more then a passing resemblance to Shen Qingqiu shows up and says he didnt do any of that and couldn't get because he was too busy being sad and why are you believing a demon anyway? Leave his little brother alone you weirdos.

Shang Qinghua and Shen Qingqiu are the only ones to recognise him because that's the plant body! But that's not Shen Yuan! What the fuck!

Shen Jiu is having a lot of fun and it takes like 3 more seconds for Yue Qingyuan to recognise him

Anyway Shen Jiu lawyers them out of there and Cang Qiong is back home freaking out and ask him who he is:

Shen Jiu: i'm Shen Qingqiu's older brother

Liu Qingge: what's your name

Shen Jiu making deliberate eye contact with Shen Qingqiu: Shen Yuan

Shen Qingqiu: *faints*

#svsss #shen qingqiu #shen yuan #shen jiu #jiuyuan #qijiu #plant body shen jiu au

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avlegal · 2 years ago

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reasonsforhope · 10 months ago

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An illegal toxic dump site in Croatia, the theft of water from a major aquifer in southern Spain, illegal trading of ozone-depleting refrigerants in France: This is just a sampling of the environmental crimes that European countries are struggling to stop. The lack of accountability for these acts stems in part from the European Union’s legal code, which experts say is riddled with vague definitions and gaps in enforcement. That’s about to change.

Last week, EU lawmakers voted in a new directive that criminalizes cases of environmental damage “comparable to ecocide,” a term broadly defined as the severe, widespread, and long-term destruction of the natural world. Advocates called the move “revolutionary,” both because it sets strict penalties for violators, including up to a decade in jail, and because it marks the first time that an international body has created a legal pathway for the prosecution of ecocide.

“This decision marks the end of impunity for environmental criminals and could usher in a new age of environmental litigation in Europe,” wrote Marie Toussaint, a French lawyer and EU parliamentarian for the Greens/European Free Alliance group, on X...

The new directive uses the term “ecocide” in its preamble, but does not criminalize the act by laying out a legal definition (the most widely accepted definition of ecocide was developed by an international panel of experts in 2021). Instead, it works by providing a list of “qualified offenses,” or crimes that fall within its purview. These include pollution from ships, the introduction of invasive species, and ozone depletion...

The new law holds people liable for environmental destruction if they acted with knowledge of the damage their actions would cause. This aspect of the law is important, experts said, because it means that a permit is no longer enough for a company to avoid culpability.

“If new information shows that behavior is causing irreversible damage to health and nature – you will have to stop,” a member of the European Parliament from the Netherlands, Antonius Manders, told Euronews.

Advocates like Mehta hope that the EU’s move will have influence beyond Europe’s borders. The principal goal of the Stop Ecocide campaign is for the International Criminal Court to designate ecocide as the fifth international crime that it prosecutes, after crimes against humanity, war crimes, crimes of aggression, and genocide. At the moment, environmental destruction can only be prosecuted as a war crime at the ICC, and limitations in the law make this extremely difficult to do...

Kate Mackintosh, the executive director of the Netherlands-based UCLA Law Promise Institute Europe, told Grist that the ICC is unlikely to adopt an ecocide law if other countries do not do so first.

“It’s not something you can just pull out of thin air,” she said, adding that any international legal doctrine has to have a precedent on the national level. “That’s the way states are going to accept it.”

The EU’s 27 member states will have two years to adapt the new legislation into their penal codes. Afterwards, their implementation must be reviewed and updated at least once every five years using a “risk-analysis based approach,” to account for advancements in experts’ understanding of what might constitute an environmental crime. Mehta said that despite its omission of some important offenses, the law sets an important example for other countries. Several days before the EU vote, Belgium adapted its criminal code to include the directive, making it the first country in Europe to recognize ecocide as a crime.

The ruling “shows leadership and compassion,” Mehta said. “It will establish a clear moral as well as legal ‘red line’, creating an essential steer for European industry leaders and policy-makers going forward.”

-via Grist, March 6, 2024

#climate change #climate crisis #climate catastrophe #climate action #eu #european union #icc #international criminal court #belgium #europe #environment #environmental law #environmental news #ecocide #good news #hope #hope posting

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alianoralacanta · 8 months ago

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Gently, anon, motorsport is an area where sometimes, it's not so straightforward.

Those of us who have been here more than a certain length of time know what it's like when everyone sets their rivalries aside because of a common foe (most often the FIA or Liberty doing something obviously against fan interests or the sport's interests), a common milestone (underdog wins like Lando's in Miami are the primary examples)… or worrying over someone getting in a big crash. The last one has historically done a lot to generate the resistance to motorsport following the football or volleyball approach of regarding the whole thing as binary. It's hard to hate on someone simply for being a rival, when one is aware that everyone involved - including the umpire - runs the risk of getting seriously injured or killed if something goes wrong. Which in motorsport happens more often than most of us would like. Sometimes, this sport is literally life and death. Sometimes the F1 fandom is happy-go-lucky because it is in gratitude that this week, at least, everyone is OK, and there was even some positive disruption to the standard run of play. (It didn't look very happy-go-lucky at some parts of the week, even so, and some parts of the fandom seethe by default. ) The last time I saw a survey of F1 assessing this (back in 2018), only 20% of F1 fans supported teams as such (despite anyone picking up to 3 teams being counted as "supporting teams"). The same statistic for drivers was 30%, some of whom would have overlapped with the 20% supporting particular drivers. The majority of fans simply use different metrics to decide who they support than would be used in football or hockey. Also, even football isn't as anon describes in all areas. My hometown is home to a professional conventional football team (which is as you describe, resulting in an unpopular heavy police presence when they play), a set of walking football teams (cameraderie rather closer to the mixed picture in motorsport, partly because of the typical age of the players) and a Special Olympics team (in that series, downtalking a rival is Not Done and the expectation is that success is cheered no matter who's experiencing it. That series would consider motorsport fandom to be too negative, let alone the type of football/hockey fandom anon describes). Motorsport is also more complex than simply "it's a team sport" or "it's an individual sport". It has strands of both, even at the extremes of four-figure F1 teams or individual weekend warriors in the Mini Se7ens. It's not some compromise between individual or team sport either. It's individual to the nth and team to the nth. There is another part. Motorsport is a thinking person's sport. It encourages deep engagement (at its best) and also consideration of how and why one has the ideas one has. With the internet, the ability to build and test and jostle with different understandings of what is going on has proven irresistible. There's also less tolerance for bad takes (something that surprisingly, hasn't changed much in the two decades since I started following it - there's simply more backlash against the gatekeepers and misogynists nowadays). Motorsport is a TV show. And a sport. And pantomime. And a business. And psuedopolitics. And a creative outlet. And Shakespearean theatre. And a neatly-animated ad. And a complex web of relationships. And a tax write-off. And a university. And a proving ground. And a deeply-rooted history connecting with many facets of "outside" life. And a blooper reel. And a crucible of character. And more things I probably forgot on the way. It is many facets, in one shiny package suitable for young and old alike. Motorsport is not football or hockey. It makes no sense to treat it as such.

This is a bit of a rant and speaking from personal experience but why is f1 the only sport where fans are happy that a rival wins? Im saying this as a casual fan of hockey and football, but when a rival wins in like one of those two sports i follow, generally we as fans are not happy.

People in this fandom are so... happy go lucky. And its to the point that often times it can be detrimental to their knowledge of the sport and their own driver. Technically if we're going into specifics, f1 is still a team based sport. So its not that much different from more popular team based sports like football or volley or hockey. As for being fans of them, it also isnt rocket science yknow. You pick a team, you root for them, and you shit on other teams. If a teammate is shit for reasons not pertaining to health issues or family emergencies, then you shit on them too because they are a liability and they should be traded out.

I think people here need to learn to not be so uptight. Because why are people so aggresive over whether someone posts content hating on a driver? Imo i dont think its that serious, its sports. Worse things have happened in other sports than someone in the f1 fandom making a rant post about how dr3 is washed and should be thrown out in favor of new talent (speaking from experience).

Tldr yall please its a sport... sometimes i get embarassed by how people treat f1 like its a tv show which i mean- yeah the drivers are hot and yeah theyre super marketable and yeah simping has always been apart of the sports fandom itself (i run a blog dedicated to simping sidney crosby i would know) but the sport itself should take top priority you know? Not... whatever handholding your rivals this is.

McLaren PR could never hope to beat Scuderia Ferrari in legacy so instead they tried to convince newer fans that it is morally wrong to hate a rival team.

#f1 #motorsport #this is a very complicated sport #and is apt to cause issues with simple interpretations #go team and don't spill the beer methods work well with purely team sports where the basics are only understandable one way #and less so in a sport where fans have with lawyer backing managed to get the regulations of the sport changed #I hope football and volleyball never find themselves in a place where fans have to do this #any competition where the official rival is not necessarily the worst enemy #is a competition where temporary alliance with that rival is always an option #so lines of communication can never be fully cut within the fandom #even if it sometimes feels like it happens with how some fans behave towards each other #fandom

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leadvalets · 7 months ago

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When You Visit These Websites

Itâ€™s specific to the individual facts and circumstances of every case; however, the end result doesnâ€™t essentially have to be compelled to be jail time or your license being revoked. I discuss this step in detail in the full version of this article as cited below. But is it really important? Practically speaking, it seems very doubtful a Harvard or Yale lawyer will do a better job of…

youtube

View On WordPress

#lawyers #lawyers-alliance #lawyers-committee-for-civil-rights #lawyers-for-children #lawyers-guns-and-money #lawyers-jersey-city #lawyers-near-me #lawyers-nyc #lawyers-organization #Youtube

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reachartwork · 3 months ago

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Reliance on a producer-owner framework and individual property is leading artists to develop the tools that are eventually used to abuse them. The slightly batshit campaign to “support human artists” [18] posits that the best way for artists to fight back is to pay a lawyer and lobbyists to beg the government for harsher IP laws, by teaming up with the Copyright Alliance [19] — an organization whose members include representatives from Disney, Netflix, Getty, Adobe, Sony, WB, Nike… you name it.

An extremely good article about AI art from a leftist perspective. You should read this

#ai #ai art #ai art discourse #art discourse #discourse #not art

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nasreenalissalawfirm · 1 month ago

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Nasreen Alissa Law Firm is a leading legal practice in Saudi Arabia, specializing in corporate law, arbitration, litigation, family law, and intellectual property. For expert legal solutions, contact +966 50 309 0920 today.

#joint ventures and strategic alliances #business restructuring services #mergers & acquisitions services #family business lawyer

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cripplecharacters · 1 year ago

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Media Representation and Writing Characters with Facial Differences

[Large Text: Media Representation and Writing Characters with Facial Differences]

A writing (?) guide (?) consisting of an explanation of what facial differences are, some basics about the community of people with facial differences, a terminology guide that is extremely subjective, a very long explanation of the real-life effects of misrepresentation of facial differences, a subjective guide on why most tropes surrounding facial differences are awful and unoriginal, and the part that people actually want to see (I hope at least) AKA "types of characters I do actually want to see". As always, this post is meant for people who have no experience with the subject, and not in any way an attempt to tell writers with facial differences on what to do in their own writing.

What Does "Facial Difference" Mean?

[Large Text: What Does "Facial Difference" Mean?]

"Facial Difference" (FD for short) is an umbrella term for any kind of scar, mark, or condition that makes your face visibly different. This encompasses anything from not having parts of the face or having less of them (e.g. anophthalmia, anotia, hemifacial microsomia), having "more" to the face (e.g. tumors, neurofibromatosis), conditions affecting how the face moves (e.g. facial paralysis, ptosis, cranial nerve diseases), ocular differences (e.g. hypertelorism, nystagmus, strabismus), conditions affecting the colors of the face (e.g. rosacea, vitiligo, pigmentation conditions in general), a "look" that signals a specific disability (e.g. Down Syndrome) and approximately a million more things - scars, burn marks, craniofacial conditions, ichthyosis, cancers, and a lot more.

Despite popular opinion (popular ignorance would be more accurate because no one knows about it in the first place but opinion sounds better-) people with Facial Differences have both a movement (Face Equality) and a specific word for the oppression we experience (Disfiguremisia). There is even the Face Equality Week that happens every year in May! This is a real thing that has been happening, and we are generally going unnoticed, even in the "representation matters" circles, the body positivity movement, disability spaces, and so on. There is an alliance of organizations dedicated to this called Face Equality International, who can help you learn about the real-world community and movement! They even have sections specifically about media representation, which is foreshadowing for how important this topic is to the community and for how long the "explaining the issues of representation" part of this post is.

And of course, if you have a facial difference/disfigurement, you can do whatever the hell you want when writing! Call your characters how you call yourself, subvert the tropes you want. I don't want to preach to people who already know all of this firsthand. This post is meant to explain some things to people who don't have experience with having FD.

Terminology

[Large Text: Terminology]

There is a lot of words to describe people with FD. Some of them are alright, most of them are awful.

Please keep in mind that all of these terms (maybe except for the... last one...) are used by real life people. This isn't me saying "you can't say that about yourself" (more power to you!) but rather to educate able-bodied people that some words they refer to use with aren't as neutral as they think (at least not to everyone).

"[person] with a facial difference" - generally the most polite and widely accepted way to refer to us. That's what is generally used in the Face Equality movement, sometimes alongside the next term which is...

"[person] who has a disfigurement" - an alright term that is sometimes used interchangeably with the one above. However, most things that involves the term "disfigurement" to me sound kinda medicalized and/or like lawyer speech. It's not offensive, but just generally used in more official ways etc. Has the potential to make you sound like a medical report or a legislature sometimes. lol.

"A disfigured [person]" - starting to steer into the "uhh" territory. Describing a whole person as disfigured is, to me, just plain weird. I get that some communities push for the identity first language, but this just isn't it most of the time. Could be way worse, could be slightly better.

"[person] who has a deformity" - "deformity" is such a negatively charged word that I don't understand how people (without FD) still use it thinking it's neutral. This sounds awkwardly medicalized in a "case study from the 80s" way which is definitely not a good thing.

"A deformed [person]" - pretty much the jackpot of bad terminology, the term deformed, the calling of an entire person by it, it has everything I hate about writers describing people like me. The only one that I think is even more awful is...

"Horribly/gnarly/nasty/monstrous deformity/scar/[name of the specific condition]" - again, I'm impressed by what some people think is neutral wording. If you're searching a thesaurus for synonyms of "scary" to describe your character, I think it's time to just stop writing them. This is about using ableist terminology, sure, but I just can't imagine that someone calling their character that actually will represent FD well. It shows the negative bias and attitude of the writer.

However, there is also one pretty awesome and simple way to describe them!

Say what they have specifically. Really. Assuming you know what condition your character has (which... you should) it should be very easy. "She has Treacher-Collins Syndrome." "Xyr forehead has a port wine stain on it." "They can't fully open one of their eyes." It's clear and lets your readers know what you mean. You don't always have to throw around euphemisms to describe someone not having a nose.

Tropes and Current State of Representation

[Large Text: Tropes and Current State of Representation]

If you have read basically any of my previous posts about FD then you probably know what I'm about to say in this section. Still worth a read though? I hope. Warning that this is long, but you probably expected that already.

One thing I will note at the start is that I'm aware that a lot of writers were already turned off from this post just because of the terminology section. I know that artists love describing people like me as ugly deformed monsters! It's literally a tale as old as antiquity, and that's how overdone and stale it is. Visibly disabled = ugly. I get it, I heard it a thousand times before, I hear it majority of the time someone is excited to tell me about how horrible and gross their OC's scar is. But now some guy (me) from that group is telling you to like, maybe stop calling your disgustingly deformed character that!

I want to make it very clear that FD representation in media is not treated like a real thing that's worth anyone's time, even by the most "representation is so important!" writers. I guess it's too inconvenient to unpack the amount of baggage and uncomfortable implications this would cause. It's too good of a device in writing; everyone knows that if a guy with a scar shows up that it means he's evil, the easiest way to make a villain visually interesting is to make them a burn survivor, and if you need a tragic backstory for a serial killer just give them a congenital disability that caused literally everyone in the world to treat them horribly, so of course they started killing people. It's such a good moral signifier that literally every book and tale has done - pretty is good, ugly is bad. Dichotomy is so helpful. What is less helpful in the real world is that what is considered "ugly" is generally very tightly bound to what visibly disabled people look like. Ugly Laws weren't just like, coincidentally including disabled people and disability activists aren't still forced to speak out against being put in those "Ugliest People" lists by accident. This is all to say that facial differences are considered to be "ugly" completely uncontested, and you probably have this bias too, as the vast majority of people do. The whole "the character is ugly, then they become evil, if they're evil, they become ugly"... you need to be conscious to not do that. Don't make them evil if they're visibly disabled because it will always end up being the same old trope, no matter how many weird excuses and in-universe explanations you give. I want to put it in people's heads that you are writing about a community of people who are technically visible in real life, but have no large voices that the general public would listen to when it comes to how we are seen. The general public relies on media to tell them that.

Putting people with FD in your books or your art seems to suddenly be intimidating for a lot of artists when they realize that not only is facial difference a real thing, but people who have it can see what you write or draw (and your other readers will take some things out of what you write, subconsciously). When an author is faced with the fact that maybe they are doing harm with their writing, they either: suddenly don't want to do that anymore at all, or say: "I don't care! I'm going to be very innovative and make my very evil OC be deformed!" which is kinda funny to me that people actually seem to think it's edgy and cool to repeat the most tired Hollywood tropes but that's the best we can get I guess lol...

The attitudes that people have around the topic of facial difference and the whole "media impacts reality" are very interesting to me in general. On one hand, when I tell someone that I was bullied or ostracized because of my disabilities, no one is ever surprised. On the other hand, everyone is for some reason uncomfortable when I say that this doesn't just... appear out of thin air. People are taught from childhood that facial differences and the people who have them are scary, untrustworthy, or literal monsters. Media is a major factor in that. Like, looking back at it, it makes sense that my parents told me not to stare at other kids because they would get scared. After all, I looked like a kindergarten version of the bad guy from some kid's book. Other kids were able-bodied and looked like the good guy, I was visibly disabled and looked like the bad guy. That's the lesson kids get from media on how people with visible disabilities are: evil, scary, not to be interacted with. So they avoided me because of that while I had adults telling me to not even look in their direction. Dichotomy is so helpful, right?

And this doesn't magically stop at children. When I post a self-portrait or a selfie, I usually deal with multiple grown people comparing me to sometimes an animal, usually a specific character from a movie, sometimes even making my face into a meme right away. But if people don't generally see people with facial differences on the daily, then how are there so many specific reactions and so many similar problems that we go through? If it's so rare, then how are people so quick to tell me the character I remind them the most of- Yeah, media. It's always media. It's almost funny how everything circles back to one thing.

I want you, the author, to understand the impact of misrepresentation of facial difference. If you feel uncomfortable because you have done these tropes before, good! That's a sign of growth. If you want to help instead of harm, you need to get over your (subconscious) biases for a minute and think about how a person with the same condition as your character would feel like reading about them. Maybe you are even currently realizing that that one OC with scars is just five harmful tropes glued together. Maybe you are going to reblog this and tell me in the tags that somehow your character decided to be like that, as if they have free will instead of being written by a biased human being. Or, as I said earlier, a lot of people will be annoyed by this post and keep doing their thing. Which is like... whatever, I guess ?? There are a dozen huge movies and TV shows every year that do this. It's so basic and normalized that whatever reach this post will have will change very little. I have been signaled "we don't care what you think about how we portray people like you" my entire life, I'm frankly more surprised when people do actually claim to care. You can, practically speaking, do whatever because the FD community is fully ignored by uh, everyone, and even if I'm disappointed or annoyed I'm just one man and I know (from experience) that most people won't have my back on this topic. It's too ingrained in our culture at this point to challenge it, I suppose. I mean, there have been multiple media campaigns telling writers to treat us as people, and they had practically zero impact on the writing community. But even with my absurdly pessimistic view on this subject, I still decided to write all this. Sure, there are no signs of the industry changing and the writing community doesn't seem to care much, but I still naively hope that maybe the right person will read this and at some point in the future I will be watching or reading about a character that looks like me and actually have a good time, and even more naively that maybe people will gain some amount of awareness of the damage that has been and still is happening to people with FD through media, so that the next time they see that the villain has facial scars for no reason they will think "damn, this sucks" the same way I do. And very, very naively, I hope that people who read this will start seeing us as people. Not villains, not plot devices, not monsters.

Sad part over(?), now the fun(?) part. AKA the tropes! Yay.

"Dramatic Reveal of The Deformity".

Use of the word "deformity" very much on purpose here. This is arguably the most common trope when it comes to FD, and it's always awful. At the very best it links FD with trauma and talks in a Very Sad Voice about how having a FD is the worst thing imaginable, I guess (think a "X did this to me... now I'm Deformed For Life..." type of scene) and at worst it does the classic revealing that the main villain actually was a burn survivor under his mask, because of course he was. In media, people with FD are evil. If they're not, then it's because someone very evil did it to them (the most evil thing of all - causing someone to have a facial difference. the horror!). It can't be a thing unrelated to someone's morality, there's gotta be evil somewhere around it. There is literally nothing good about this trope. Showing FD as something to hide? Check. Dramatizing FD? Check. Placing the way someone's face looks as the worst thing possible? Check. General treating FD as some kind of circus attraction to stare at with your mouth open? Check!

"Wearing a Mask*."

I made a whole post about this one actually, that's how much it annoys me. Putting your character with FD in a mask is so overdone, lazy, and boring I'm not even offended as much as I thought I would. It's like... really? Again? For the millionth time, the character with FD is forced to hide their disability? Is the author scared..? What is the point of giving your character a visible difference if all you're doing is hiding it? And yes, I know that your character chose to do that for reasons that you as a writer somehow can't control. It's always so strange how it's the character that's in control and the writer is in the passenger seat when it comes to annoying tropes.

Found yourself already waist-deep into this trope? Take a look at this post I made.

*"mask" here refers to anything that covers the character's facial difference (e.g. eye covering, surgical mask, whatever. It's about hiding it and not a technical definition of "what is a mask").

"Good Guy has the Tiniest Scar You Can Imagine, but Don't Worry! The Villain is Deformed As Hell."

A genre on its own. In the rare instance that a positive character has a facial difference, they have a curiously limited choice - you can have:

the thinnest, definitely-very-realistic straight line going through the eye (the eye is always either perfectly okay or milky for reasons the author couldn't tell you),

the same exact line but going horizontally across the nose,

and if you're feeling spicy you can put it around the mouth,

regardless of location, just make sure it doesn't look like an actual scar (certainly not a keloid or hypertrophic one) and is instead a straight line done with a red or white crayon. Interestingly, villains have unlocked more options which stem from scars, craniofacial conditions, burn marks, cleft lips, ptosis, colobomas, anisocoria, tumors, facial paralysis, to pretty much everything that's not infantilized, like Down Syndrome. These are always either realistic or extremely bloody. I sound like a broken record by now, but no, your morality has nothing to do with your physical appearance and being evil doesn't make a visible disability get more visible. Shocker. And don't get me started on...

"The Villain turned Evil Because They Have Scars."

Ah, how nice. Disabled people are evil because they're disabled, truly a timeless classic for able-bodied writers whose worst fear in life is being disabled. In case that needs to be said, having a facial difference doesn't turn you evil, doesn't make you become a serial killer, doesn't make you violent, doesn't turn you into an assassin with a tragic backstory seeking revenge for ruining their life. If anything, having a FD makes it more likely for other people to be violent towards you. Speaking from experience.

"The Villain Just Has Scars."

An impressive attempt at cutting out the middleman of "clumsily and definitely not ableist-icly explaining why getting a scar made them evil" and not even bothering with a tragic backstory or anything. They are evil, so of course they have a facial difference. What were you thinking?

"Facial Difference is a Plot Point."

As anyone who's read like A Book will tell you, the only way to get a facial difference is to be in a very dramatic fight or an extremely tragic accident who will become a plot point and thus the facial difference is now Heavily Emotionally Charged and a symbol of The Event/The Tragedy. If you look at media, congenital FD isn't a thing, illness-related FD doesn't exist and boring domestic accident or a fall causing FD has never been seen. It has to be dramatic and tragic or else there's no point in them having it. A true "why are they [minority]" moment, if you will.

"Character gets a FD but then Gets Magically Cured Because They're Good."

Truly one of the tropes that make me want to rip my hair out. Curing your character with FD sucks just as much as curing a disabled or neurodivergent character. Who is this even for? That's not how real life works. This is some actual Bible shit, that's how old this trope is. The only thing you're doing here is making people think that those who do have FD just aren't "good enough". Every time I see it, I wonder what the author would think of the congenital disorder I have. According to this kind of in-universe rules, was I born evil and just never got good? or ??

"Character with FD has Self-Esteem Issues and Hates Their Face."

I admittedly mocked all the previous tropes because they're absurd, ridiculous, offensive, boring, all of the above, and have zero basis in reality. This one however... ouch, right in my own tragic backstory. This is unfortunately a very real experience that a lot of people with FD go through. I even have a hunch there wouldn't be as many if the general public didn't think of us as monsters, but I digress. Yes, a lot of us have or had self-esteem problems, and a lot of us wished that we wouldn't have to go through all the BS we were put through because of it. Thankfully for you, you don't have to write about it! Seriously. You don't need to. As one million people have said before me, "maybe don't write about things you haven't experienced" and I agree here. I have yet to see an able-bodied author get anything about this right. Instead of the deeply personal, complex experience that involves both you, everything around you and the very perception of what others think of you that this is, somehow writers keep giving the tired "character crying and sobbing because they're "ugly" now", because the author thinks we're ugly. Or maybe they're sad because all the other characters with facial differences are evil, and they didn't have the time to prepare their evil monologue for when they inevitably become evil in the sequel? Who knows.

"The Author Doesn't Know."

I'm not sure if a trope can be the lack of something like this, but the author not knowing what their character actually has going on medically is common to a ridiculous extent - this applies to all kinds of disabled characters as well. You don't need to name-drop the Latin term for whatever your character has, but you need know what it is behind the scenes. You need to know the symptoms. You need to know the onset and the treatment or lack of it. Please do your medical research.

Things I Want to See More of in Characters with Facial Differences

[Large Text: Things I Want to See More of in Characters with Facial Differences]

The thing you might have noticed is that I want Facial Differences and People with Facial Differences to be presented as normal. Not killers, not SCP anomaly whatever, not monsters. I'm aware that the term is tired, but I absolutely want Facial Differences normalized as much as possible.

I want to see more characters with facial differences...

who have friends that don't bully or make fun of them because of their appearance.

who have support from their family.

who know other people with facial differences - even if they're just background characters, or mentioned in passing. Marginalized people tend to gravitate towards each other, people with FD aren't an exception to this.

who are queer.

who aren't only skinny white cis dudes in general.

who are disabled in other ways! A lot of us are Blind, Deaf, both, unable to speak, intellectually disabled, having issues with mobility, and a million other comorbidities.

who are fantastical in some way - preferably not the "secretly a monster" way. But a mermaid with CdLS or an elf with neurofibromatosis? That's cool as hell.

who are allowed to be cute or fashionable.

who have jobs that aren't "stereotypical bad evil guy jobs". Give me a retail worker with a cleft lip or a chef with Down Syndrome!

who are reoccurring characters that just happen to have a FD.

who are those stock/generic characters that aren't typically associated with FD. Hero's mom has septicemia scars? Cool! The popular cheerleader at school has alopecia? Awesome! The bartender of the place the heroes secretly meet up at has Möbius Syndrome? Goes hard! The kid that the MC used to hang out with before they moved somewhere else has Crouzon Syndrome? Great!

who have their FD be visible.

who aren't ashamed of their FD.

who are feeling very neutral about their face.

who are proud of how they look.

who got their FD in a very boring way or were just born with it (and maybe make up very silly, obviously not real ways of how it happened when annoying people ask them. Think "oh, I was fighting a shark").

who have facial differences other than small scars.

who's angst is fully unrelated to their FD. I love me an angsty teen character! Even more if they are angsty about their crush, or basically anything that's not their disability.

who have a significant other who doesn't do the whole "I love you despite your looks" thing. It just kinda sucks. Sorry. I would hate if someone said this to me.

who are children and aren't implied to be "cursed" or "demonic".

in genres that aren't just horror or thriller. RomCom or slice of life, anyone?

who aren't evil.

I want to see stories with multiple characters with facial differences. I have nerve damage and facial asymmetry, and I am friends or mutuals with people with Williams Syndrome, Bell's palsy, Down Syndrome, neurofibromatosis, facial atrophy, ptosis... and a lot of other things. Your character would have (or, would probably want) some connection to their community. We aren't rare!

And, I want stories with the whole spectrum of facial differences shown. Of course you can't represent the whole spectrum, but you can still aim for at least a few. Don't give every single character with FD the same scar-through-eye + eyepatch combo. It's not unrealistic to have a range in your writing. Here is a list of facial differences you might want to check out for inspiration. Don't be scared to give them something rare - no matter how uncommon, people still have it. My specific condition is allegedly extremely rare - I still want representation!

Closing Remarks

[Large Text: Closing Remarks]

Facial difference and the media is a topic that plagued me for the past almost two decades and won't stop ever, I think. It's a very unique relationship of a group of people who just aren't allowed to get into the industry and an industry that clearly hates them, loves to use their image, and defines how people see them all at once. There's this almost overrepresentation that is consistently awful and damaging to an absurd degree. Most people know more villains with FD than actual people. Certainly doesn't feel great to be one of the aforementioned actual peoples. But I hope that this will change - the negative portrayals that are plaguing the FD community will slowly fade out and a newer wave of portrayals will come in, hopefully this time realizing that we are real people and care about us a bit more.

The thing with facial difference is that it's pretty much impossible to make a specific guide of what it's like and what to do in context of writing because it's an incredible vast category that includes conditions that are very different from each other. That's why this post was more focused on "why you should care in the first place" (sorry for the clickbait) rather than being a straightforward guide that would still be very lacking even if 20 different people were collaborating on it. I really, really encourage everyone who got through this rather long post to do their research on what they plan to write about, be conscious of their own biases, don't pull inspiration from movies because they're all hellholes full of tropes and just sit down for a minute, think of the real-world people with facial differences, and read what we have to say. I know that drawing a guy with a line across his eye is more fun than realizing you're low-key scared of or uncomfortable around the real-world equivalent, but sometimes you have to get over yourself and try to be a better person. Caring about the people you write about is, dare I say, essential. That will certainly make your writing of us better :-) (smiley face with a nose)

If you have any specific questions, feel free to send an ask

Mod Sasza

#mod sasza #face difference #writing advice #writing ref #writeblr #writing disabled characters #long post #writing reference #writing resources #writing guide #writing resource #writing tips #writing help #burn survivor representation

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aarattorneyalliance · 9 months ago

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What is Criminal Defence litigation

Criminal defense litigation is a branch of law where attorneys represent individuals and entities accused of committing crimes. This legal practice is crucial for ensuring the accused's rights are protected throughout the criminal justice process. Here’s a detailed look at its key components:

The Role of a Criminal Defense Attorney Criminal defense attorneys have a multi-faceted role that includes advising clients on their legal rights, investigating the case, gathering evidence, and developing a defense strategy. They must be adept at analyzing the prosecution's evidence, identifying legal issues, and arguing motions that can dismiss charges or reduce sentences. Effective communication skills are essential for negotiating plea deals with the prosecution and for presenting the case in court.

Pre-Trial Procedures Defense attorneys are involved from the earliest stages of a criminal case, often providing representation during questioning by law enforcement. They play a crucial role in the pre-trial phase, which may involve bail hearings, preliminary hearings to assess the sufficiency of evidence, and pre-trial motions to exclude evidence or dismiss charges due to rights violations or insufficient evidence.

Trial During the trial, the defense attorney challenges the prosecution's case by cross-examining witnesses, objecting to improper evidence, and presenting a defense. This might include calling witnesses, presenting alternative theories of the crime, and undermining the credibility of the prosecution's evidence. The aim is to create reasonable doubt among the jurors regarding the defendant's guilt.

Sentencing If the trial results in a conviction, the defense attorney advocates for the client during sentencing. They present mitigating factors and argue for leniency in the form of reduced sentences or alternative sentencing options like rehabilitation programs.

Appeals Criminal defense litigation can also extend to the appellate courts if the defendant believes there was a legal error that affected the trial's outcome. Defense attorneys can argue appeals, seeking to overturn convictions or reduce sentences based on procedural mistakes, errors in law interpretation, or constitutional issues.

Ethical Considerations Defense attorneys must navigate complex ethical considerations, balancing their duty to zealously represent their clients with the need to adhere to legal and ethical standards. This includes ensuring that their defense is based on credible evidence and arguments, respecting the confidentiality of client communications, and avoiding conflicts of interest.

Criminal defense litigation plays a vital role in the criminal justice system, safeguarding the principle that an individual is presumed innocent until proven guilty and ensuring that the government meets its burden of proof before depriving an individual of liberty.

#criminal case #law firm #lawyer #advocates #ed cases #aar attorney alliance

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lalunanymph · 5 months ago

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𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐃𝐄 𝟐: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐀 𝐖𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍

after a scandal that rocks the entire nation, itadori 'ryomen' sukuna is forced to marry a girl chosen by his brother in order to straighten him out. but, what jin doesn't expect is how much he's willing to destroy everything he knows just to get his freedom back—even at the expense of breaking his wife's soul.

warnings: mean!sukuna, unrequited love, child neglect, childhood trauma, flashback-heavy, language, repressed trauma, allusions to d/rug a/buse, mentions of s/moking, mentions of food, mentions of a/lcohol, explicit s/mut (sukuna x este), cuckcake-ish vibes, tension, MDNI

masterlist | playlist

He sees the invitation in his brother’s hand first thing in the morning, and wishes he hadn’t woken up in the first place.

Groggy and still drunk from the night before partying with Ino and his gang of friends, Sukuna blinks the crust from his eyes with wary bleariness.

“What do they want now?”

He groans, recognizing the L/N family seal from a single glance.

Jin, clad in a beige sweater the color of boring and a similar pair of bland slacks, shakes his head. “I don’t know ‘Kuna. But, I think your future in-laws want to get to know you better.”

His brother tosses the invitation onto the dining table, and turns to refill his coffee while humming under his breath. Despite his hesitation and dismay, Sukuna reaches for the innocuous item, turning it around his fingers to check the edges; evaluating the invitation like its a show pony up for sale.

Constellation Snow paper with Waterman ink.

The L/N’s were serious about their reputation.

A cruel smirk plays on the corners of his lips. Compared to the Naras, the L/N’s were shams in their society—new money desperately trying to climb the ladder. Your mother, Lia, was descended from department store royalty but chose to taint her blood with a middle-class business associate from Shibuya who scrappily acquired his own company at the age of twenty-five.

Your family’s history was thoroughly researched on by Hiromi even before the idea of marriage was put forth, attesting to the lawyer’s incredible foresight.

And now the snakes are waiting in the bushes to strike.

However much Sukuna wants to refuse this invite, it would not look good on the Itadoris if they dismissed a future business partner.

Jin, too, appears to have the same line of thought, sitting across from him with a slight frown. The buttery smell of coffee beans wafts in the air, coaxing him from his drunken fatigue.

“So?” his younger twin asks. “Are you going to say ‘yes’?”

Sukuna turns the card over, flips it over to his brother. Jin catches it before it goes tumbling to the ground, tossing him a scowl. He unfolds it, reads through its contents quickly.

“A getaway for a week at their private mountain lodge,” he mutters wryly. “Whatever could go wrong?”

Hearing the note of amusement in Jin’s voice, Sukuna rolls his eyes, scrubbing a hand down his face. “It's so they can force us into this alliance. How else are we going to plan an escape if we’re trapped with them on a goddamn peak.”

“Is this what you see your fate as?” Jin murmurs, trying hard not to smirk. “A trap?”

“You got a better term for it?” Sukuna grouses. “You didn’t give me a chance to say ‘no’ to the whole thing. You forced my hand before I could even consent.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Jin mutters, returning back to the table with a plate of toast and some butter. Sukuna tries to grab one of the brown slices, but his brother swats his hand away with a scowl that says go get your own food.

Begrudgingly, he stands to make himself a bowl of cereal before he comes to a stop.

Usually, someone would be here to take his plate, toast his bread for him, and prepare his usual fare of strawberry jam and manuka honey on the table before he could even lift a finger. Or, they would prepare the granola and milk for him on the table before he even has to ask.

“Where’s the help today?” He suddenly realizes, perturbed by their quiet absence.

In response, Jin hums. “I gave them a day off."

Sukuna looks at him like he has grown two heads, wondering what could possess such a man to debilitate his household like this. When he would become the man of the house, Sukuna wouldn't give them a day off on a whim like his weak-hearted younger brother.

“Why? What did they do to deserve it?”

His blood is boiling, about to spill over in his infamous temper tantrums when Jin sighs, stopping him in his tracks with his next words.

“It’s her Death Day anniversary today.”

Sukuna almost blurts out “Who?” when the sight of Jin's grim expression suddenly jogs his memory.

He immediately remembers and wishes he hadn’t been so blunt.

Ah.

Kaori.

The older twin shifts uncomfortably from one foot to another. “Happy… Death Day. I guess?”

Sukuna was lucky Jin was in a decent mood and didn't sock him in the face for that insensitive comment. As her death was two years ago, the young air stewardess’ absence was still very much felt by her grieving husband until this day—a blow to his soft heart which he will never get over for as long as he lived.

“We need to respond to that invitation,” he switches the subject, cleaning up after himself. “Oh, and with kind consideration for our future companions, the L/N’s have also offered the Gojos and Naras an invite.”

Sukuna almost choked on his cereal. “T-the Naras are coming?”

Without turning to him or being ticked off by the change in his older brother’s tone, Jin nods, continuing to scrub his dishes.

“James wants to talk new business terms with Ken, and he’s interested in hearing what the guy has to offer. Also, Gojo Sr. might be bringing his best cigars. It’s unmissable.”

The older Itadori internally swore, wondering if the entire universe had just upended and gone entirely insane.

Though he was a bastard through and through, even Sukuna could admit that having his future wife and hookup slash sorta girlfriend under one roof would be a disaster waiting to happen.

You could never find out about him and Este.

“That’s… interesting.”

“You can join us if you want,” Jin adds, “Only if you can keep your partying tendencies on hold for three days.”

“Just for three days?” Sukuna smirks, and Jin finally turns around, giving a look he is all too familiar with.

Throwing his hands up, the older Itadori shrugs, trying his best to look as innocent as possible.

“You know me, Jin-Jin. I’m always on my best behavior.”

“Darling, we must hurry,” your father scolds, and you struggle to keep up with them in your tottering heels. Behind you, your mother shoos you down the tarmac, towards the humming private jet ready to depart.

“We can’t keep the Itadoris waiting!”

The maids rush with your bags, one of them carrying your fur trimmed hat in case it flutters off your head.

Once the butlers had stowed away your luggage, each of them formed a line and bowed to you and your parents as the three of you climbed up the airstairs, waving you off with polite smiles.

“I can’t believe we’re going to spend three whole days with the Itadoris,” Lia gushes as the cabin crew starts to pat down the overhead compartments, doing their final checks. She looks radiant in her mink-trimmed fur coat hanging off her shoulders, the picture of elegance with her sleek bodycon dress and sparkling golden jewelry dripping from her throat and ears.

Relaxing into the muted beige seat, you nod. “Me, too. I wonder what activities Itadori-san likes.”

In comparison to her, you're dressed in all monochrome; your stylist came in at the nick of time to take inspiration from some of his ex-girlfriends' winter fashion—settling you into a ribbed sweater dress with some stylish earmuffs and a black trench coat that feels like a million bucks under your splayed palms.

Your mother turns to your father who was trying to catch his breath, shaking out his handkerchief to pat his shining face.

“Jiro, darling. Do you think it’s brazen if we request for them to share a room together?”

Your father looks over his half-moon spectacles, tilting his head to the side. “Itadori-san and our daughter? Well, I don’t see why not.”

You blanch, but before you are able to voice your discontent, an air stewardess glides by with three flutes of champagne. Setting it down, she asks in a soft voice if you were all ready for refreshments.

Unsure how to broach the subject, you stew in your disappointment for the entire plane ride to Hokkaido, glad you chose the window seat so you could spend a little more time alone in your thoughts.

Your phone vibrates with a text, and you switch it on to find Utahime sending you a GIF of a cat waving a good luck banner.

Smiling to yourself, you respond with another cat GIF, this one sticking its face to a window with its whiskers twitching sorrowfully, and put your phone on silent for takeoff.

Iori could always make you smile, no matter how nervous you are. You kind of wish she could be here with you. Staring out at the passing scenery below, you tilt your head back, wondering what kind of carnage awaits at the base of mountainous Hokkaido.

Since striking lucky with his marriage to your mother, your father began divesting his profits into property, and the 5,000 feet lodge instantly became the highlight of his purchases.

Imposing and standing firm on fortified concrete to withstand the harsh, cold mountain air, your childhood days were spent playing in the narrow hallways, fashioned similarly to the labyrinth-like interior of Europe’s oldest castles. Your parents absolutely adored German architecture with its spiraling spires and brick red slates upon such historical monuments, and wanted to emulate the design right on the slopes of Hakodate.

It’s been years since I’ve seen the lodge.

The last time you were there, you were just shy of your sixteenth birthday.

Bright-eyed, and romantically wistful. You often imagined how pretty it would be to walk along the grand balcony as the sun performed its final best for the day; orange rays soaking your skin from head to toe as you admire nature's best while hand-in-hand with a man you love.

And now, your fantasies have a chance of turning into reality.

You wonder how Sukuna will feel when he sees the spires, the chimneys, and the cozy old brick walls that allows for the warmth of the house to seep into them despite the persistent chill.

He would be impressed—you like to think he might be a bit more polite once he sees your family is just like his. Just as powerful and grand and worthy.

Smiling secretly to yourself, you swallow down an Ambien, slip on your headphones, and settle into the comfortable seats for the start of your wildest hopes coming true.

The private car taking them up the winding road almost makes Sukuna turn green around the edges.

Jin sits beside him, a faint flush on his cheeks from the cold despite not having reached the mountain’s first base. Their mother used to always tease how he was the easiest to blush or bruise; so much different from his staunch older brother.

“The weather is lovely,” his twin muses.

Sukuna stares out the window, not bothering to hide his sulky mood. His phone is off, his last text from Este snidely insulting the L/N’s on how they only had two private hot springs in their lodge went unreplied.

He hasn’t bothered to respond to her because he’ll see her soon enough.

Fuck… this is some twisted shit. A part of him still can’t wrap his head around the fact that his situationship and future fiance would be in the same room together.

Jin hums, breaking him from his thoughts, and after a brief lull, shoots up excitedly, tapping the driver’s seat. “It’s this one! We’re here.”

Unable to match his enthusiasm, Sukuna sighs deeply and rolls his eyes. The driver stops the Jeep right in front of the lodge, and for a split second, Sukuna wonders if the Ambien he took on the private-plane ride here accidentally knocked him out long enough for them to appear in the middle of Heidelberg or some far flung place in fucking Europe.

This lodge had fucking spires, for god’s sake.

He can’t help the bubble of distaste gurgling in his chest when he sees such opulence in the middle of nowhere. Inaccessible to the base unless with a Jeep and a day’s worth of travel, one could only imagine the amount needed to keep a money drainer like this going.

They’re rubbing their wealth in our face, he sneers inwardly. What a nouveau riche thing to do.

A butler rushes out to hoist their bags, allowing Jin and him the leisure to crane their necks and take in more of the grand rooms. Wooden timber floors echo the dull thuds of their boots, high beams in the same honey color wood arching and intersecting, opening the living room into an expansive ceiling and windows that seem to touch the sky.

The interior is tasteful with accents of natural wood on the walls, a spiral staircase, and a large fireplace that’s happily belching heat across a sunken pit fitted with black corduroy sofas. A flat screen TV is on, and Sukuna almost misses a bundle moving from the end of the chair, walking right to them.

You're in a silky black dress with a sweetheart neckline, house slippers on your perfectly manicured feet. So different from the beige and bland girl he saw at the cafe that Sukuna has to hide his double take behind a sudden cough, the tips of his ears feeling a little bit warmer than before.

Jin is the one who smiles widely, bowing low. “Y/N. It’s good to see you.”

Returning his gesture, you grin. “It’s lovely to see you too, Itadori-san,” and not forgetting Sukuna, you added, “You too, Itadori-san.”

“Please, call me Jin,” the younger twin extends a note of familiarity and you receive it graciously with another smile.

From the corner of his eye, Jin glances at Sukuna, as if expecting him to drop all formalities with the woman who was soon to be his wife. But, the older twin did no such thing; nodding to you in greeting while keeping his antipathy closely tucked to his chest.

“Hello again, Y/N.”

Though his abrupt unfriendliness puts you off, you plaster on your best hostess smile, about to show the two brothers to their rooms when your mother’s shrill voice pierces through the quiet.

“Jin-san! Itadori-san!” Exuberant, she bounces down the steps, fresh from a shower and wearing a new coat of makeup after the dreary flight. “You’re both here!”

Jin takes her hand, and in a gallant gesture you never expect him to do, presses the back of it to his lips. “Lovely to see you again, Lia.”

You never thought you’d see the day when your mother stutters like a schoolgirl in love. She coughs, batting her lashes and turns to the older twin. “Itadori-san.” To him, she bows slightly, showing him deference as the older brother in this dynamic. This time, Sukuna returns her bow, knowing full well that to lord his rank over them would be disrespectful to his host.

“Lia-san. You look well.”

Beaming at the two men, your mother sinks her fingers into your shoulders. “I’m so happy you finally got to meet Y/N in person, Jin-san. Isn’t she lovely?”

Diplomatic to a fault, the younger twin nods. “She is as lovely as you are, Lia-san.”

Expectantly, she turns to Sukuna, who clears his throat, his skin suddenly crawling from all eyes on him. “The cold air does wonders for all of us,” were his words. You feel your mother’s fingers digging deeper.

Sparing the room from an awkward note, you clear your throat. “Shall we show them to their rooms, mom?” Emphasizing on the last word, you effectively break Lia’s spell, her million dollar modeling smile back on.

“Yes. Yes. Jin-san, I hope you don’t mind rooming with Gojo Satoru when he arrives. He barely sleeps, but then again, so do you. I’m afraid his father couldn’t make it due to a sudden stomach bug so he’s the only one representing the Gojos.”

Jin remains genial. “I would love to catch up with Satoru when he arrives.”

“Perfect.” She turns her smile to Sukuna, who feels every expectation surrounding him amplifying; dread pools in his stomach when the physical embodiment of lies and deception starts deepening her grin. Lia unclasps one hand from your shoulder to grip Sukuna’s bicep.

“I hope you don’t mind me taking the liberty to make a special arrangement for you, Itadori-san.”

He wonders if they’re going to put him with your father in a separate room; already the picture of the older man’s twisted words and smarmy grin come to his mind, trying to force his hand to hurry up and marry you.

But, what Lia says is much worse than his imagination could conjure. Her hand on his arm burns hot and prickles his skin past the cashmere sleeve.

“I’ve put a room together just for you and my daughter, of course.”

Jin swears he’s never had to drag Sukuna out from a room fast enough.

His brother seethes, hands clenching open and close while he tries to find a quiet enough spot so the older twin doesn’t explode into a raging temper tantrum.

“‘Kuna, it’s okay,” he consoles, but Sukuna doesn’t want to hear it.

“How dare they think they can do this!” His jaw tenses, veins popping from his neck. The kitchen is empty, though for it to be free of errant eyes and ears, Jin can’t be sure.

“Hey, come on—don’t lose it here now,” Jin begs.

The older twin’s volatile temper is hard to predict and even harder to cool down once he reaches that peak of no return. To think it would be triggered by a simple room assignment would be comical if Jin has had a few beers, but this just solidifies to him how acutely Sukuna truly resents you.

It takes Jin aback. You’re such a sweet person; a kind soul. Why would his brother react in such a way to you was a mystery to the younger man. He doesn't have time to prod further. Voices ring down the hallway, and Jin recognizes Adam Nara’s jolly baritone, following Gojo Sr.’s cheerful greeting to your father.

The other players have entered the game. Jin couldn't afford to lose face now.

He grabs his brother by the shoulders and shakes him a little.

“Listen, shit face. Our enemies and alliances are just beyond this door. If you love ka-san and oto-san—” Scratch that. Sukuna cares for no one but himself. Jin shakes his head. “If you care about the money and getting your inheritance, I need you to pull yourself together. Just for this evening. Got it?”

Sukuna doesn’t respond, and Jin’s no longer the nice, younger brother he has to be in front of others. He transforms into Itadori Jin, de facto Chairman of Itadori Holdings, his shoulders squared and mouth set in a firm line. Purely meaning business.

If he wasn’t in such a rage, Sukuna would find the change impressive; he’s almost quivering in his boots.

“You’re going to go out there, and you’re going to play nice, you hear me?” There’s a threat hidden behind his calm words—the edge of a sharp knife wrapped in between soft sheets. “You will be polite to Y/N, treat her parents with respect and you will be married by the end of this month, am I clear?”

It stung. It bruises his ego to have Jin control his life.

But, didn’t you give up the crown when you decided to leave the family and make it on your own? A small, bitter voice in the back of his head quips.

He’s quick to shoot it down, though a lingering sense of loathing balloons in his chest. It’s humiliation and resignation all in one. Sukuna pauses for a second, letting Jin stew in his anger, before slowly nodding.

His younger brother exhales, and releases his death grip from his twin’s shoulders.

“Good. If you’re antsy about the room situation, you can always tell Lia you want to protect her daughter’s virtue. It’ll be a decent enough reason and score you brownie points with the family.”

Jin’s words which were meant to soothe and comfort him, strikes a chord, flipping the switch in his mind. Excitement bubbles right in the pit of his stomach.

If I can’t change my fate in this arrangement, maybe I can influence it.

“No,” he says coolly, taking his brother aback. “I’ll do it.” Jin stares at him as if someone had just swooped in and switched his twin with a different man.

Is he planning something insidious? Though the Itadori Chairman has his suspicions, he can’t outright call his brother out on it—not when Sukuna is making the effort to appease and honor the deal.

“Okay,” Jin says slowly, though the note of hesitation and distrust is palpable.

Sukuna maintains his innocent facade with a blank mask, the markings on his face starker under the orange light.

Jin represses a shudder, trying not to let the memory of that day come up again.

The voices outside grow louder, and he can scarcely ignore them.

Duty’s calling and he has to answer.

“Alright,” he murmurs into the quiet. “Let’s go outside to meet them.” Before Sukuna can leave, Jin grasps his shoulder, forcing him to round back and look at him.

Wearing a look awfully similar to Wasuke, Jin wags his finger.

“Remember, ‘Kuna. No fucking funny business.”

He stops, rolls his eyes and plants a crooked smile in place. It’s the smile that could win any girl over into his bed for the night no matter her relationship status; reassures the most fidgety investor that their returns would be safe with him.

“You have nothing to worry about, Jin. No funny business—I promise.”

Itadori Wasuke wasn’t just a father—he was the blueprint to Jin’s lifepath.

Ever since he could walk and talk, Jin loved following his dad around—tottering into meetings, plopping himself onto the older man’s lap and grabbing the papers on his desk to drool over them.

Despite his status as a ruthless businessman and one of the shrewdest minds in transportation, Wasuke loved nothing more than to indulge his boys with time, wisdom, and guidance. He would never push his youngest away—always with a firm hand and a soothing voice to lead him in the right direction.

Rainy days were Jin’s favorite. His father usually sat himself in the parlor with a cigarette and the latest paper, relaxing after a day filled with nothing but meetings.

The memory of him clambering on the couch next to him, curls of nicotine smoke filling the air, was such a vivid one Jin still thinks he can smell the tobacco on his skin.

“What’re you doing here?” His father’s faded pink hair, a rarity in this world which he passed to his two sons, shone like silk under the amber lighting, those red-brown eyes dancing with mirth at the sight of his golden child.

Jin fiddles with his fingers, suddenly aware of the secret he was holding and how much it could ruin his father’s mood. But, he had no choice. He had to tell his dad before the maids could beat him to it and get his nii-san into more trouble than he already was in.

“Um… it’s ‘K-Kuna, oto-san.”

At the mention of his oldest, Wasuke snaps the paper close, the fine lines around his mouth deepening.

“What happened to him? Did he do something wrong again?”

Blaming Sukuna was a default in the Itadori home. Sometimes, Jin overhears his father lamenting to his mother past the thin doors, wondering where and how he went wrong in raising two sons who were as different as day and night.

“He… made a bet at school and…” Jin sucks in a breath.

Putting the newspaper down, Wasuke’s attention was fully on him, those vermillion eyes ablaze. “Well? What happened? Did he hurt someone?”

Flinching, Jin shakes his head. His brother may be a jerk and a rebel, but Sukuna would never hurt someone intentionally. Deep down in his heart, the youngest twin was sure of it.

“He made a bet with some boys and lost and he—” Jin exhales out the last part in one, frighteningly quick breath. “—hewentandgothisfacetattooed.”

His father blinks. The sleeves of his crisp white shirt, pushed past his elbows were stretched across his taut arms, as if he was holding himself back from slamming his fists into the table.

“Where is he?” Deceptively calm; a storm brewing in the distance.

Jin naively hoped his father would put things right again—talk some sense into Sukuna to get those tattoos removed from his face and arms.

They were the Itadoris, a respectful house.

How was his nii-san supposed to lead a company when he didn’t look professional at all? And not to mention, they were both fifteen—they were too young to think about permanent inks and bets.

Wasuke seems to echo his youngest son’s thoughts, sinking back into the plush, leather sofa and pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. Jin can tell his father is going through a range of emotions—the blood rushes to his face, leaves his cheeks red, puce, and then sickeningly green around the edges.

This is bad. This is very, very bad.

“Thank you for telling me, Jin,” his father finally manages to compose himself enough to pat his head. “You can go back to bed now. I’ll speak to Sukuna when he comes back home.”

Stiffly, the youngest twin stands, bowing once to his dad. He wishes the old man a goodnight and trudges back to bed, unaware of a woman lurking in the corner who slinks into the room, having heard everything that transpired between her husband and son.

“—what did he do now?”

A resounding crash shakes the walls, and Jin freezes, darting behind a potted plant to listen in.

His mother’s shrieks filter past the flimsy wood; their argument front and center for the whole house to hear.

Jin hears snatches of the altercation, his heart plummeting right to his stomach.

“—your son!” His father roars.

“You mean, our son!” his mother yells back. There’s another crash, and Jin covers his ears, shaking his head from side to side.

Make it stop, please. Make it stop.

The guilt eats him alive, especially when he hears what his father says next.

“Fifteen years I’ve been tolerating that boy, but it has to end here. He can’t keep misbehaving as if the world owes him everything at his feet. If this keeps up—” Wasuke swears, and a heavy object crashes into the wall. His mother shrieks. “—I’ll make Jin my heir!”

At the mention of his name, the young boy freezes, not daring to even breathe.

His father can't make him the heir. It would break his older brother's heart.

“You can’t!” she sobs. “It’s against the natural rule of things! Sukuna is set to inherit the fortune. You can’t change the order of our world, Wasuke!”

His father laughs, a terrifying, full belly roar which makes the ground shake and his chest cave in.

“I can and I will. You watch me, woman. The will is mine and mine alone to execute. If you keep this up—protecting that stupid boy when he doesn't deserve it, I will send him to the military and keep him there until he finally grows a spine and some common sense, you hear?! I can have him killed in battle—”

Kasumi screams again, and this time, it claws straight through Jin’s soul; a wounded animal sound of a mother terrified for her young.

“Dear, please. He’s only a boy. Only a child. You can’t expect the world of him. He is your blood and flesh—”

“Someone this idiotic and foolish will never be my son and I will never claim him!”

From the corner of his eye, Jin spots movement by the stairs. His brother, backpack slung across his shoulder, skin around his face and arms mottled and red from the tattoos, pauses at the top step.

“He has done nothing but bring shame to the Itadori name!”

Wasuke bellows, his next words rattling the roof and breaking every heart within the vicinity; most of all, his oldest son’s who had innocently stumbled into the middle of the fray without any warning.

“I wouldn’t care if he lived or died! I have Jin and he’s the better choice.” A loaded exhale—a reloading of more emotionally charged bullets.

“You and that bastard can fucking rot to death for all I care."

Sukuna rubs a hand down his face, feeling the steam clinging onto his pores.

The onsen was quiet tonight, everyone in the house either up in the parlor drinking, smoking, or by the sunken sofa fireplace, exchanging gossip about another up-and-coming family or an investment scheme gone wrong.

He’s never been one to belong in a world like this, so Sukuna had taken his leave early after dinner with the excuse that he was feeling a headache coming along. The maids had already hauled his suitcase up to the suite he would be sharing with you, and thankfully, you were locked in a conversation with Gojo Satoru, the only other person around his, Jin’s, Este’s, and your age on this trip to notice he had gone missing.

While his brother plays along with the whims of the upper echelon, Sukuna prefers to submerge his tired body in the mineral-dense waters.

Though the woman he was fucking was here, too, Sukuna had reservedly given her a one-sided hug when Este walked in, green eyes sparkling and looking like the picture of allure in her ermine coat and slinky black dress. Throughout dinner, she kept on glancing at him, and he tried to pretend like her eyes didn’t bore holes into the side of his head; that her accusatory glare didn’t feel hot on the back of his neck when he was forced to sit beside you during dessert, striking up an awkward conversation.

For your part, you had no idea the woman whose bed he warms is in the same room as you, and Sukuna likes to keep it that way. There will be hell to pay if word of this gets out.

Footsteps resound, prickling his ears. Through the steam and fog of this glass room, he makes out a familiar figure walking right towards him, clad in just a towel.

“Sukuna-san.”

Este stands, long brown hair shimmering like a coat of silky chocolate down her back, the rise of her collarbones already flushing red from the steam. There’s a look in her eyes that spells trouble when she slinks closer towards him.

Acutely aware of his nakedness, Sukuna does nothing but a cock a brow in her direction.

“Getting bolder now, I see.”

But, he doesn’t stop her from sinking one foot into the natural hewn pool, her towel melting off her body and falling in a heap behind her.

He unabashedly drinks in her curves; the mole on her left breast he loves to bite down on, those puckered nipples tightening from the humidity. The planes of her abs defined from years of pilates led right to a smattering of dark hair near her pubic bone, and he caught the slightest glance of that little hole he loves when she parts her legs, sitting comfortably against the rock across from him.

Rolling her neck from side to side, Este sighs deeply.

“What a bore this is. I honestly thought mom would let me smoke here, but she says she doesn’t want to give the Gojo’s a wrong idea.” Her full lips twist into a sneer. “You’re not looking any better.”

He scoffs, splashing her with the warm water. Este shrieks, giving him a murderous glare.

Outside, a light snowfall starts to descend, tiny flakes lingering on the transparent dome. It’s ethereal and romantic, though the woman in front of him ruins his view.

You stand by the door, unsure if you should step in when you see Sukuna and another gorgeous woman in the onsen. They’re both bickering, and Sukuna stops when he notices you about to turn and leave.

“Hey. Join us.”

His low baritone is crisp. Commanding.

You can’t turn away, not when he’s already noticed you.

Plastering on a fake smile, you shake your head, trying to beat a hasty retreat. “M-my bad, Itadori-san. Nara-san. I thought the onsen was empty—”

Este, daughter of James Nara and one of the richest trust fund babies in Japan, snorts. She’s beautiful, but something about her sharp features and those plump lips makes a shiver run down your spine. It’s as if she’s a bloodhound, trying to sniff out your weakness. She bares her too white teeth and you’re reminded of a Great White seconds away from snapping a fish’s spine in half.

“Nonsense. This is your house, Y/N-san. You should join us. We want to know everything about you.”

The back of your neck prickles, and it’s not from the heat.

Sludges of white gather atop the dome, trickling down to the packed ground like you were stuck inside a live snow globe. Your smile tightens around the edges and you clutch the towel in a numb grip, mind blanking out on an excuse.

These onsens were your private escape from the real world, and you rarely took a dip naked in front of your own family, let alone a pair of strangers.

Sukuna rolls his eyes, growing annoyed at your floundering and hesitation. “Look. Either you join us, or you leave us to continue our conversation. We were in the middle of something.”

Cheeks flushing warmly, you felt the chill deepening in your soul. Your smile never broke, but you darted your eyes away from his indifferent expression, corners of your lips quivering.

Snapping your mouth shut, you nod. “I… I’ll leave you two alone, then.”

The minute you leave the room, Este turns to him. “Ouch. That was kinda harsh.”

Sukuna snorts, and with the knowledge of you not returning into the room now that he had humiliated you, he brazenly draws Este to his lap, nuzzling his face into her neck.

She purrs, looking like the cat who got the cream when she straddles his lap, letting him feast his hungry eyes over her perfect body. The tip of her acrylic traces down the tattoo near his jaw, and that diabolical smile of hers deepens.

“That was your fiance, Ryomen. You should be nicer to her.”

He makes a sound of disagreement in the back of his throat, moving his cool lips from the hollow of her neck to the rise of her breasts. Licking and sucking at her nipples, he alternates, biting down on the flesh, blowing on those buds to watch them harden into stiff, pink peaks. Her soft moans carry together with the steam rising to the top of the glass ceiling; those verdant eyes rolling back into her head from the shivers he was wracking in her body.

“Stop talking about her,” he murmurs, lifting her up slightly by the hips and sliding his already throbbing cock deep into her twitching heat. She winces, stabs her nails into his shoulders from the sudden stretch. “I need to fuck you.”

She ticks her hips forward, a little slutty show just for him. Sukuna can tell the idea of fucking him with you under the same roof is driving her wild.

“m’not on the pill today,” she whispers into the hot shell of his ear, running her tongue over the delicate ridges. Sukuna’s fingers are bruising her hips, rutting deep into her. He likes how she takes him without complaint or prep—the perfect hole to be used and abused.

He’s thrusting into a spot inside of her that’s too deep to reach, snaking his hand around her throat and squeezing down hard.

“Don’t care,” he breathes heavily, vermillion eyes hooded; harsh tattoos lining his face jumping out from under the low light. “Just pop something after.”

He’s evil and tantalizing—the devil she readily gives her body to whenever he snaps his fingers.

Este nods, leaning back to brace her hands against his strong thighs, eager to please him.

“Yes, Sir.”

It was once said that the greatest artists in this world found contentment within their own solitude where their wildest inspirations could come to life with no judgment from the public eye.

Though you could not compare to Van Gogh or Monet, you had to admit that there was a shred of truth to those words.

Mountain air fills your lungs, and you span your gaze towards the horizon as your eyes can see. The easel you requested the butlers to prepare was your standing guard, the blank canvas leaning on it your enemy to parry with.

Like a writer hunched over their incomplete manuscript, your art block was equally as vicious. The lines and colors eluded you, and you could not focus a single thought on what was to be the final outcome.

You could paint the view, but it was overdone and frankly, expected.

Maybe you could dig deep into the stinging pain in your chest you felt the night before and scoop it up, smear it across the blank whiteness, and stain it with your embarrassment and indignation.

Sighing deeply, you lean back on the stool, setting your paintbrush down and rubbing the back of your neck.

“Art block can be a bitch, huh?”

You whirl around to find a tall man with a mop of white hair approaching you with his hands in his bathrobe pockets, wearing a charming, lopsided smile.

“Gojo-san,” you immediately straighten and he waves your formalities away.

“Satoru,” he says and looks you up and down. “You left last night. After dessert. Smart.”

Letting out a gust of breath you didn’t know you were holding, you tilt your head to the side in confusion. “Did something happen?”

“Oh, just your parents pulling us into the parlor for some charades,” he chuckles at the recollection, and this close, you can’t help but notice even his eyelashes are the color of powdery white snow. “It’s been a while since I went on a family getaway. I’m not much of a homey son, you see. I rarely spend time with family and would much rather be handling business.”

“Ha,” you snort, and then, slap a hand over your mouth as if to cover for your mistake.

Though word in your world runs rampant, no news came faster (even to a wallflower like you) of how rebellious and unorthodox the Gojo family’s only son was.

Satoru’s bright eyes, the color of a melted icy river in the middle of summer, seems to twinkle at your slip-up.

“Did I say something amusing?”

You quickly shake your head, though your warm cheeks betray you. “N-no, Gojo-s—Satoru.”

Cursing your careless mouth and actions, you take this moment to turn back to your canvas, picking up your paintbrush and pretending to concentrate on your next stroke.

Undeterred by your lack of forthcoming conversation, you feel him approaching you from the back, coming to stand over your shoulder.

“You know, if you wanted to lie, you could’ve done so by telling me how I absolutely do not deserve the Gojo Chairman position.” Those eyes sparkle with barely concealed mirth. “Or, don’t you agree with what everyone else is saying?”

Gaping, you turn to him. “Wh—Satoru, that’s a cruel thing for me to say to someone I barely know!”

That amused grin never left his sightly lips, and you couldn’t help but notice how well-moisturized they were. Not even a dry fleck of skin on them, despite the atrociously cold weather.

As if noticing your train of thought, Gojo smiles and changes the subject. “It’s awfully cold out here. Why are you painting in the middle of such freezing weather?”

The words tumble past your defenses before you could rein them in, yet another slip up from your distracted morning. “I find the cold air to be refreshing. It helps to clear my mind.”

Gojo stands there, back straight, and for a single moment, you can imagine him in the middle of a boardroom, scrutinizing a subordinate and catching them in the middle of a flimsy lie.

But, you were not his employee, and Satoru was a welcomed guest under your roof. He could not overstep his boundaries.

“I see.”

It seems he has something he wants to say but can’t put forth; the minute struggle in those cerulean blue eyes gives away a deeper meaning. The vulnerable connection that trembles between both your held gazes dissipates like fine mist—never there in the first place—and he’s back to being his usual cryptic, teasing self.

“I shall leave you alone then, Miss Y/N. Ah, my apologies.” He smacks his forehead, correcting his mistake instantly.

“Wrong name. I hope you have a wonderful painting session… Mrs. Itadori to-be.”

That night, you return to the huge double rooms to find your fiance out cold.

His broad back turned towards the wall, arm dangling from the edge of the huge, ornate sofa your mother personally sourced from Istanbul. You try and fail to hide your surprise, wondering what he’s done to venture into your part of the room.

The memories twist and turn, rising like black smoke from the ashes of your dismay and stinging disappointment at how petty Sukuna could be.

“You’re sleeping on the sofa,” he mumbles, “I don’t do well with company in my bed.”

You’re about to argue, when he takes the room, slamming the door closed and clicking it shut. At least the maids had left out some pillows and a blanket on the sofa for you both to divide and claim… but if Sukuna didn’t want you near him, shouldn’t he be a gentleman and take the couch instead?

There’s no soothing the prickling shame you feel when you realize your fiance has given you the cold shoulder in a space that belongs to your family. Belonged to you. Is this how he will treat me for the entire marriage? You approach the door, about to bang on it with your fists when you hear the first stirrings of a snore.

Faltering, you bite your lower lip. To risk waking Sukuna up and infuriating him further which would ruin the entire arrangement your family was trying to secure for you… or to bite your tongue for a night and hope he would be more forgiving come morning?

You sighed, plodding over to the sofa, still in your dress which Okura-san sourced straight from an underground Chinese designer—the same talent Sukuna’s last ex-girlfriend, Sora Hyuk, was fond of. Thumbing the hem, you feel like tearing it off and throwing it into the fireplace, your cheeks warm with embarrassment and resentment.

If only your parents could see you now.

The truth was, you could tell them what Sukuna had done—how he had embarrassed you so openly and without hesitation right in the heart of your vacation home. But, knowing your parents and how diligent they were with moving up the ladder, your complaints would be nothing but fodder for them to sneer at when they were both alone.

A daughter is nothing but a bartering chip. That is what your mother had once told you.

And that is why, despite how coldly Sukuna had locked you out of the shared room, you took comfort in the antechamber where no one, not even the maids, could come in without your permission.

Good thing the fire is burning, you thought, as you kicked off your slippers and sank into the soft couch, trying to drift off into an uneasy sleep. I'll count that as a small blessing for today.

Blinking back the painful reminder, you’re about to roughly shake him off the sofa, marching towards him with your expression scrunched up in anger.

Grabbing his shoulder, you give it a push, and he barely moves.

“Oi,” you huff. “Wake up. You’re in my spot.”

Another push. Sukuna doesn’t even groan.

Suddenly, a chilling sensation seizes over you. Without wasting time, you flip him onto his back, bracing yourself on the edge of the wide sofa.

Sukuna’s eyes are rolled back into his head, the whites of them shining under the warm, orange light of the chandelier above. You scream and try to shake him, smacking his shoulder to rouse him back from unconsciousness. When he doesn’t move, you grab the first thing you see—a cup of tea you were halfway drinking in the morning, long cold and still with the tea bag attached—and throw it right into his face.

Immediately, his eyes snap back, pupils smaller than pinpricks as he roughly grasps you, dragging you under his bigger build.

Flecks of black tea fall into your face, almost dripping into your wide open mouth, frozen in a mid-shriek.

“What the fuck did you do?” He snarls, and without warning, the tea bag clinging for its dear life on top of his head slides off his pink locks and plops right onto your cheek.

Sukuna grabs it and brings it closer to his face, sneering at the small brown-soaked sachet and tossing it over his shoulder with his scarily fast reflexes.

“You weren’t responding,” you stutter, pointing one trembling finger to his eyes. “And your eyes were rolled back. I—I thought you were having a seizure.”

“I wasn’t.” His nostrils flare, and those piercing red-brown eyes feel like they could dig right into your soul; scooping up your second-hand embarrassment and smearing it all over your shell-shocked face. “You had no fucking right to pull such a stunt on me—who the fuck do you think you are?”

It’s the most he’s ever spoke to you, and it riles you up how defensive he’s being—like you were some nuisance of a toddler purposely destroying his expensive things and not someone who was trying to save his fucking life.

Who did this man take you for?

You open your mouth, but he beats you to the punch.

“Don’t ever touch me without my permission. Do you understand me?”

You snap your mouth close, feeling the chagrin and indignation brimming behind your eyes. If he didn’t let you go right this instant, you were going to burst out in tears right in front of him—an act which would surely annoy him more rather than make him suddenly tender to your afflictions.

It’s like he doesn't even have a heart.

Thankfully, Sukuna releases your wrists and rolls off you.

“We both can’t sleep on the sofa since it’s fucking stained with tea—no thanks to you.” His expression is like someone had shoved sour powder down his throat. “I suppose… there’s the room.”

You don’t even try to hide the disbelieving confusion bleeding across your face. This man who nearly threw a fit because you had tried to resuscitate him… was buying into the idea of sharing a bed with you?

“But, I thought you didn’t want me to touch you without your permission?”

An honest inquiry. You had only wanted to remind him of the words he said to you in case he thought you hadn’t clocked it in.

However, the reaction you receive confirms everything you implicitly knew and more: Sukuna, without a doubt, hated your entire guts for reasons unknown to you.

Those vermillion eyes become glacial, freezing over any attempt at diffusing the tension in this situation you were trying your hardest to salvage.

“Who said you would be on the bed?” He gestures behind his back, towards the room you were forbidden from sleeping in despite your family name stamped on this lodge.

“The floor’s comfy,” his callous words chill you right to your soul; you think you might actually start to lose it because of how cruel he’s being to you. “You can take it, can’t you?”

Biting your bottom lip, you physically have to will the tears away—not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry.

“Yes,” you murmur softly, turning your gaze to the floor.

You have to do this—you don't have a choice.

For the sake of this arrangement. For the sake of your father’s business.

“You can take the bed. I’ll take the floor… Itadori-san.”

After another day in the mountains, your mother thought it was a good idea to bond with you over a foot massage.

There’s a Thai massage parlor down at the base of the mountain, their herbal baths and footstone rubs rumored to cure even the worst altitude sickness. Driving past the winding mountainous edge slowly, the car ride was bumpy, jolting you with jerkish movements that make your head spin. As the Range Rover idles to a stop, the driver opens the doors, and your mother steps out, barely paying him any attention.

Meanwhile, you turn to the older driver and whisper, “Thank you,” while handing him a ¥1,000 bill. He takes it with a bright grin, tips his hat, and waits inside the humming vehicle as you both get started on your pampering session.

“Sit here, Y/N,” Lia waves you over, completely ignoring the masseuse ushering her to another seat further back.

You follow your mother obediently, taking the reclining chair next to her.

The leather creaks under your weight as you slowly slide to a comfortable position. Glancing at your mother, you’re surprised to see her eyes sparkling, and she’s close enough to grip your arm, excitedly shaking your shoulder. “So?” she demands, and you give her a confused look.

“So… what?”

“Sukuna, you dummy,” she huffs, rolling her eyes. If there was a man here, he would stop dead in his tracks, enamored by your mother’s alluring and natural sass.

Thankfully, the masseuses were all foreign women, and as they washed your feet with soap and warm water, you hesitantly updated here about your living situation with Sukuna.

“He’s nice enough,” you mumble weakly. Lia taps her milky white French tips on the chair’s arm, waiting for you to add more.

“Um.” You flounder. “He’s a heavy sleeper, too—barely moves when we sleep next to each other.”

Another lame addition. This time, her nose crinkles. If only she could be a fly on your bedroom wall, seeing how Sukuna treats you with disdain and exasperation; making you sleep on the floor while he hogs the king-sized bed all for himself.

“It sounds like you’re both barely speaking to one another,” Lia deduces, arching a perfectly groomed brow. “Is that right?”

You deflate. If there’s one person in the world who can call you out on your bullshit, it would be the woman who birthed and raised you. “Yes.” You finally admit. “I can’t seem to crack through him, mom. He’s so guarded.”

At your rising frustration, she hums and leans back, eyes falling close. You follow the same, feeling the older masseuse’s firm knuckles rubbing up and down your aching Achilles tendon.

There’s nothing filling your senses but the smell of lemongrass oil and the warmth of the heaters blowing hot air circulating around the room. Someone places a cup of tea and biscuits on your left side table, and you open your eyes; picking up the brew and enjoying the sourish sweet tang of lemongrass tea on your tongue.

“Sukuna-san is a notoriously hard man to know because of his upbringing.”

You pause, cup hovering close to your lips. Setting it down on the lacquered wood table with a crisp click, you frown.

“What do you mean, mom?”

Lia opens her eyes, staring up the ceiling as she rummages in her memories for a recollection you weren’t aware of.

“Sukuna-san’s mother—Kasumi—passed away when he was just 18. Wasuke, his father, followed her 3 years after, and they made Jin Itadori heir because Sukuna fled Tokyo and stayed in Madrid for almost a decade.”

Filled with curiosity, you furrow your brows. “Did they say why he left home in such a rush?”

“No one knows,” your mother clarifies. “But, one day, he showed up, and Jin took him back in—the prodigal brother making his return.”

“I bet it would’ve been interesting to be a fly on the wall for that conversation,” you snort.

Lia gives you a look. “It wasn’t. I heard the rumors that both brothers were more than estranged—they barely spoke to each other in that decade when Sukuna was missing. But, Jin has always been a kind man, and he let his brother’s misdoings slide—just wanting him to come back home.”

You feel a begrudging sense of respect for the younger Itadori twin. “He seems more like my match than Sukuna-san.”

Your words were meant to be a joke, but it rubs Lia the wrong way. She scowls, lifting a brow. “Don’t you even dare to think of something like that, Y/N.”

Instantly chastised, you quieten. Lia continues, on a roll from your careless remark.

“Jin-san loves his wife too much—she passed away during childbirth and he treasures Yuuji more than any gold in this world. He would not spare you a second look, and so, Sukuna was chosen for you.”

“But, why?”

Frustration bedevils you, and you spew out the first question on your mind. “Why would Sukuna-san be a better match for me? We have nothing in common.”

The masseuses are pretending not to listen in to the conversation, heads bent low and focusing all their attention on melting away the stress that was mounting more and more with every passing second you spent in your mother’s presence.

Lia’s left eye twitches, a sign she’s growing more irritated by the second. “Y/N, don’t spit in fate’s face when they give you a golden egg. Sukuna-san is perfect for you because he’s not picky. He would have anyone familiar with the ways of our society… even if they call you a Wisteria Woman to your face.”

Hurt bleeds through her tone, and you’re reminded once again of how low your family standing is compared to the Itadoris. While they were a family from old transportation money back during Tokyo’s electrical motor boom, your family rode on the backs of your grandfather’s standing to give your father’s ideas a chance to win over prickly investors.

Eventually, he clawed his way through the world of politics through grit and a good dose of ass-kissing, earning a cushy spot at the top where he’s starting to see his results flourish—the first one being your marriage to a well-established house.

But, it wasn’t always a smooth journey to where your family was now.

Your mother had to endure years of other rich wives' subtle digging and whispers behind palms—calling her a “Wisteria Woman”—mocking her patience in clinging onto your father as he steadily rose to popularity; calling her a foolish woman only concerned with social status.

It was an insincere attempt at making her an object of ridicule, at best. Your grandfather’s wealth as the king of department stores before his demise could buy over any of these small family’s trust funds three times over.

“They don’t know what they’re saying, mom,” you remind her. “You’ve always stood by dad’s side because you believed in the man he could become one day. And it’s paid off—they’re the ones eating their words now.”

Lia fixes her gaze on you, her expression softening. You think she might even reach out and pat your head. But, she only gives you a single piece of advice, further solidifying that despite all your protests, your marriage to Sukuna has already been woven in the threads of fate long before you were even aware of it.

“Y/N, I want you to remember this well—no matter what these people say to your face or whisper behind your back... don’t you ever give them the satisfaction of seeing that they’re right.”

a/n. drama on the mountains alert! drama on the mountains alert!

btw feedbacks and reblogs will always be loved <3 thank you for supporting my story thus far i luv u

©️ lalunanymph. do not copy elements of my work, repost, change the sentence structures, translate across any other platforms. and claim as your own

#🦢 writes #sukuna smut #sukuna angst #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna #jjk series #jjk fic #sukuna ryomen smut #ryomen x reader #jjk ryomen #jujutsu kaisen ryomen #series: hopelessly devoted

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